Danny slowly lowered himself down onto Luther's newest death machine thanks to his bat themed grappling hook. Making special care not to let his heart beat or his lungs take in breath lest Superman hear him and intervene, he used his intangibility to sink into the machine itself to steal its parts.
Yeah, so a full white outfit wasn't the best choice for stealth, but it was better than dressing like a traffic light. Plus the black gloves and boots made him feel nostalgic. It had been only seven months since the accident that took his life, so much has happened since then.
Biting his lip as he smiled as he began gathering up parts and wires with his intangibility and placing them into his bag. Lastly he grabbed the power source, which-surprise, surprise, is kryptonite.
After he grabbed what he wanted he quickly stuck a note on the maintenance panel of the machine for when someone opened it and discovered it now had a large hollow space, then simply sank down through the floor and flew to freedom.
Danny sighed once he was clear. Or, at least he thought he was.
"Young man." Crud. Danny turned around to see big blue floating behind him in all his red underwear glory. Great. "I believe you have something that doesn't belong to you." The Kryptonian said, looking pointedly at the large chunk of kryptonite Danny held under his arm.
Instead of an excuse, Danny got an idea. "Uh, hello? Recognize the mask?" He said, gesturing to his face.
Superman narrowed his eyes, staring at his face for a few very long seconds and just as Danny was about to cut his losses and book it out of there, a look of recognition graced the heros face. Sweet. "Thats Nightwings mask."
"Yeah. Just smaller."
Superman nodded, then asked, "Why aren't you wearing a bat symbol? I wouldn't have thought you were a thief if I knew you were working with Batman." Danny had to fight to keep his face neutral.
"I haven't decided what symbol I want on my suit yet." And that was true. Danny wasn't sure he wanted any symbol at all. The mark of the bat would mean that he belonged in the batclan, and Danny was a lone ghost. A wandering spirit if you will. He didn't belong anywhere.
Some small part of his mind that sounded suspiciously like Jazz said that might be one of the reasons he's been behaving so poorly lately, but he brushed it off. Superman just nodded sagely. Danny doubted he actually knew how Danny felt and was just nodding along to appear sympathetic. Adults lie, and they lie often. Danny kinda hated them for it.
"Well, I'm kinda on a deadline, so I should get going. Crime to fight, goth furry to annoy, you know how it is." Danny said, waving the arm that wasn't carrying the kryptonite around in the air before using it to readjust the bags strap on his shoulder.
"Alright," superdude smiled warmly, "Tell Batman I said hi." Danny grinned back at him as he jogged away, "Will do!"
That went better than expected. Thank you, Nightwing~! The boy thought to himself as he ran off into a secluded area and turned invisible and flying away.
Just imagining Supermans face if- no- when Batman finally breaks and tells the Justice League about the little menace thats been stealing all his and his sidekicks stuff for the last few weeks nearly sends Danny into hysterics.
Danny still has Robins sword mounted above the fireplace in his favorite safe house in Costa del Sol. Red Hoods "favorite" motorcycle was in its garage and Red Robins wrist computer and chest harness thing were mounded in a glass case next to the first thing he stole from them:
Batmans utility belt.
Sure, its a pain to remove all the tracking stuff from them, but man is he proud of those accomplishments.
Still. Its better to leave Metropolis after he got caught by Superman. Its only a mater of time before someone finds out about the old switcheroo he pulled at the last museum robbery and that combined with the bodies of those creepy rich guys he had killed (human trafficer buyers) well, surely Batman has noticed he had been gone for a while and would pick up on the matching M.O. in Metropolis.
Time to bounce.
2K notes
·
View notes
tw: blood
If you're not drawing your oc in pain for the fun of it, can you really call yourself an artist?
The cost of sophistication is being a little more "delicate" than one would care to acknowledge.
Gold has all sorts of malfunctions and hiccups every now and then. at least one every 3 or 4 months. Usually minor tics that, at worst, he would need to hit his chest like a staticky box tv to get it up and working again.
But there are other more... Violent outbursts that require a more involved hand... Either way, they can all be summed up as; unfun.
443 notes
·
View notes
Beware mortal! For you in your heinous pride
Have scorned the almighty God of Life.
Life knows no indulgence free from thorns,
No crime escapes where justice mourns
Hear this, God Killer! Your golden hour
shall be a bloody end, the sun devoured.
Life shall rip the skies away from Victoria’s hands–
No Gods will save your insolent lands.
You will find yourself, in the peak of the eclipse
Kneeling, your wretched blood dripping from your lips.
Beware, young God Killer, you are someone.
You are someone in the righteous eyes
of a most unforgiving God.
poem written by me. face close up under cut
fun fact: in this au, Basil's mom was the Goddess of the Sun, but after she died in the 200 Years War, Victoria took that responsibility, sometimes delegating it to Adrian when she was busy.
Evidently, Basil's birthright to the big ol' star is still present.
22 notes
·
View notes
Verse: Blood, Gold, and Ashoka
aka the gothic horror/urban fantasy au aka the "vampire au"
Edha Banerjee was murdered in 1943.
In a country estate near Calcutta, there was a family who'd seen better days. Never had that been clearer than during the famine that wracked Bengal that year.
Once, the storied and rumour-shrouded estate had been home to a great fortune. One rumour told that long, long ago, a previous master of the house had summoned a spirit known as a jokkho and bound it to the ashoka tree in the courtyard, to guard all that wealth. Now, that fortune had now been exhausted, sold to sustain the family and try to pay off its many debts, and no jokkho appeared to object.
One of the family's scions was 21 year old Edha, a sharp, proud, and turbulent youth. Both her parents were dead, but her mother had left her a jewelry box. Over the years, Edha kept every gift of gold, silver, or jewels in that box, from family, friends, and the occasional paramour. It was a small collection, but it was a valuable one, and Edha treasured it as proof of her own value to others.
The important thing is that Edha wouldn't part with the jewelry box or any of its contents willingly, but money and debt care little for sentimental value. An uncle and his wife had tried many times to convince her to sell the jewelry, to add just a little bit more money to the family coffers, and the two of them failed every time. They got desperate.
Edha Banerjee was murdered over her jewelry box, and both of them were hastily buried under the ashoka tree in the courtyard while her uncle and his wife scrambled to cover their tracks. Establish their alibis, find a buyer for the ill-gotten jewels.
Eventually, they came back to the ashoka tree to dig up the hidden jewelry box. The minute they uncovered the body though, Edha leapt from her grave to maul them both.
Her eldest brother, on discovering the bodies in the courtyard, instantly recognized what happened -- he moved the entire family out of the estate, and sought an exorcist. However, he died in an accident before he could do so, and the family scattered to the winds, never to return home.
The tales of the estate now being haunted by a murderous spirit spread among the locals, who shunned the area. Occasionally, someone would try to explore the house, perhaps seeking to move in or renovate and sell it, but it always ended the same way. Someone would find the old jewelry box and try to take it, and they'd die at the revenant's claws, teeth, or venom for it, their lost vitality only empowering the haunt.
As decades passed, and the revenant once known as Edha Banerjee was starting to tire of this loneliness, broken only by trespassers and thieves, and decided to venture out into the world again -- with some cleaning up and an illusory mask to look more alive, a new, more androgynous appearance to hide their connection to the tragedy of fifty years ago. Most jokkho-guards are bound to their hoards, but as this treasure was just the jewelry box, they were free to simply carry it with them wherever they go.
Now, "Edha Devi" (Eden to those more than passingly familiar to them) haunts West Bengal and beyond, traveling from city to city, hungrily taking in the sights and meeting new people. They're fairly cordial for an undead monster. Given, of course, that you don't touch the jewelry box.
A vampire would recognize them as having a somewhat kindred experience -- they're both undead who prey on the living, but there are some core differences. Eden is bound to the Earth and their body for the purpose of protecting their treasure. Strictly speaking, they don't need to feed on human blood, because the only thing that can end their undeath is being released from this purpose, whether through exorcism or by creating another of their kind and passing the duty on to them. However, blood makes them stronger, and lets them properly heal from wounds. The other big thing is that Eden's fangs and claws carry venom, which makes their victims deathly ill when it's active. If they don't die of blood loss, they'll waste away in a few weeks to a days without treatment, depending on dosage.
3 notes
·
View notes
@h3artsablaze cont. from here
They are shaded beneath the limbs of swaying palms, the gentle breeze casting ripples across the pool of water beside them. Seto is a sight to behold, his brown hair tussled from the desert winds. He is dressed in the garb of Atem's ancient society, but the technological crown still sits atop his head, the one thing the pharaoh could not convince him to discard, even for a moment. Atem was not stupid, he knew what the device was for, at least partially, judging by how often Seto was reaching up with a look of annoyance as he flicked it off.
"Perhaps I just wanted to see your handsome face," he teases, leaning back on one hand, a glass of wine swirling gently in the other. He takes a sip, carefully watching Seto's face as he continues to speak. "I know you are still waiting on my answer, but I'm afraid I don't have one yet that would satisfy you. Leaving here is...complicated."
Seto had asked Atem to return with him, to come back to Domino and life the life he had never gotten to have. But the reasons Seto gave for him to leave were all reasons he had to stay. Why should he abandon his kingdom, his people, for a life he never even had? If destiny was bullshit and he was supposed to pick his own path, why would he not choose his job, his purpose? He was Horus, Ra, both of them and none of them. Who else could take over for him?
"There is no one who could take my place if I were to leave."
5 notes
·
View notes
❛ do you have another clever idea to get us killed? ❜ ( don’t mind sherry’s sarcasm, charlie )
❝ – YOU GOT ANY BETTER IDEAS!? ❞ CHARLIE SNAPS LIKE A TERRIER, rising from her hunches after catching her breath and finally wipe the sticky line of blood that dripped from her temple. her head was pounding, her adrenaline was high and her temper was thin, thinner than normal. her anger is misdirected, it wasn't SHERRY'S fault, she got called out, she had the situation reversed on her when she thought she had found the enemy's weakness.
her pride had been knocked and having to retreat left her sorer than her head.
❝ – cause it's a bit late now, don'tcha think? ❞
🐝 * ― 𝑯𝑶𝑺𝑻𝑰𝑳𝑬 𝑺𝑬𝑵𝑻𝑬𝑵𝑪𝑬 𝑺𝑻𝑨𝑹𝑻𝑬𝑹𝑺.
1 note
·
View note