#I will write more tonight so I have something to post for wip Wednesday tomorrow :) | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

ladytanithia · 6 months

Text

Writing WIP Wednesday (10/18)

I shared a different snippet of this chapter a while back, and I'm about to post it sometime today, so it almost doesn't qualify as a WIP anymore (unless you're counting the whole unfinished story). This is from Chapter 27 of Out of the Ashes.

Tagging my talented writer friends: @dirty-bosmer @gwilin-stay-winnin @mareenavee @skyrim-forever @thana-topsy @thechaosdragoness @thequeenofthewinter

Teldryn insisted on keeping his helmet on until Geldis had delivered their snack and Miranja had closed the door and locked it. She felt rather honored being given the key, even if only for a few moments. She sat down and laid the key on the table between them as he removed the helmet and fluffed out his sweaty hair with his fingers.

“Is it just me, or does Raven Rock feel weird now?” Miranja asked, taking a sip from the bottle Geldis had already uncorked for her.

“Raven Rock’s always been rather uncomfortable for me,” Teldryn admitted. “I’ve always felt something like an outlander myself here, despite being a Dunmer. In all the time I’ve been here, you’re the only one who’s seen my face. People don’t come right out and voice their suspicion, but they don’t go out of their way to talk to me, either.”

“Isn’t that lonely, Tel?”

“Yes, but I’ve felt it necessary. Especially knowing there are still MT assassins on Solstheim looking for you.”

“Which is about the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard of,” Miranja growled, shaking her head. “I visited the Dark Brotherhood sanctuary ONE TIME, helped myself to one of their sexy leather uniforms and one of their not-so-sexy mage uniforms, never took a single contract from them, and never went back. Yet the MT thinks I’m a member, and how they even got that information is beyond me.”

“Well, whether they’re misinformed or not, they still come here. As long as you’re living here, it’s not safe for me to reveal my identity.”

“I’m sorry, Tel. Perhaps I’ve overstayed my welcome here. I have plenty of properties in Skyrim I could move to.”

“Or, as I think you mentioned once, I could move to one of them. Or ask your steward if he’d be willing to sell his old cottage in Riverwood. Maybe we could both move to Skyrim.”

They looked at one another for a long moment, just considering their possibilities.

“I’ve made arrangements here, set up trade between Raven Rock and Skaal Village, rented some untainted land for a small crop to share, things like that. I’d have to either end that arrangement or find someone who can maintain it if I leave. I know that Argis has started a relationship with Bralsa and she nearly lives at Severin Manor now, but I don’t know if Argis would want to stay here if I left. He does have the advantage with the Skaal of being a full-blooded Nord, so they trust him.”

“If I left, you wouldn’t have to.” Tel stuffed a large chunk of cheese into his mouth.

“We don’t have to make this decision today,” Miranja said, taking a swig from her mead bottle. “But I will talk to Argis, probably tomorrow, and see how attached he is to Solstheim – and to Bralsa. I’d be happy to leave him in charge of the manor, maybe even sign it over to him eventually if I don’t see myself doing anything more than visiting here. Right now, though, my brain hurts. I might even forego dinner tonight and just go to bed early. Tomorrow is the first of the month, and I’ll need to accompany Argis to Skaal Village for our monthly trade.”

“Well, if nothing else, I can say that my curiosity has been well and fully satisfied.”

“And?”

“And I understand for myself why you’re so well-loved here – and in Skyrim. I can’t say you don’t have a dishonest bone in your body, but I can say that you do have a conscience about it when you do have to be dishonest. You care about people probably more than is good for you, you’re talented, and you’re unapologetic about sharing pleasure with whoever you choose. I’m very glad to have gotten to know you, Miranja.”

Miranja had looked down at the table modestly as Tel had listed off the things he appreciated about her. Now she looked up at him and smiled sincerely. “I’m glad to have gotten to know you better, too, Tel. Even if that isn’t really your name, I still feel like I’ve gotten to know the real you. I’d like to keep you in my life, one way or another.”

“Count on it, my dear.”

Once they’d eaten and drunk their fill, Tel stood with Miranja to hug and kiss her tenderly before escorting her to the door.

“I’ll see you soon, probably tomorrow afternoon,” Miranja promised.

“You know where to find me,” Tel replied with a wink and a crooked, saucy smile.

#skyrim #elder scrolls #tesblr #miranja #teldryn sero #fanfic #ao3 #dunmer #tes #solstheim #raven rock #retching netch

18 notes · View notes

nuwildcat · 1 year

Text

WIP Wednesday Cocktails and Chapter 2 of Silvered Perceptions

Right so if you’ve read my fics you pic up pretty quickly that Porsche, Tay, and I share a love of cocktails. I have officially given in and admitted that I just love to write a good cocktail into a story. Upon the suggestion of @dr-lemurr I am going to make a post this week including the recipes for the cocktails featured in this weeks chapter!

First all of these cocktails are served in chilled glasses. This is super easy to do, you just add ice and water to the cocktail glass while you are preparing the drink and then toss it out before pouring!

Cocktail 1 (Porsche’s experiment) The Tamarind Daiquiri:

This drink requires a cocktail base made of Tamarind, lemongrass, fresh ginger, and brown sugar. I’ve linked the recipe here.

2 ounces White Rum (We went with a Phuket local rum called Chalong Bay)

1 ounce Tamarind Base

1 1/2 ounces fresh lime juice

Combine the liquid ingredients in a shaker with ice and shake for 30 seconds, or until the shaker starts to ice over on the outside. Strain into the chilled daiquiri glass and garnish with a twist of Lime peel.

Cocktail 2 (Kinn’s Drink) The Revolver

2 ounces of Bourbon

1/2 ounce of Tia Maria (coffee liqueur)

2 dashes of orange bitters

Combine ingredients in shaker and shake until chilled, 15 seconds. Strain liquid into chilled Nick and Nora glass. Flame orange peel over the glass to release essential oils and twist to garnish.

Cocktail 3 (Tay’s Drink) The Hanky Panky

1 1/2 ounces of Gin

1 1/2 ounces of Sweet Vermouth

2 Dashes of Fernet-Branca (a bitter Italian digestivo)

Combine into a shaker with ice and shake until chilled, 15 seconds. Strain into chilled coupe glass. Twist an orange peel over glass and then garnish with twist.

Here’s a snippet of Chapter 2!

After pulling the empty keg out from under the bar, Porsche grunts as he levers the much heavier full one into its spot. Twisting the line into place is easy, he’s done this a hundred times and will probably do it a hundred more.

Yok bustles behind him, bringing freshly cleaned fruit over to the cutting board she has set up and preparing to get chopping. They open the bar together most nights. It’s easier. The two of them have been doing this for so long that they don’t need to speak when they’re working. Jom often joins too, but he’s busy with a family party tonight.

Porsche and Yok are most of the way through the prep and starting to goof off as Yok has him make the new cocktail he’s working on for the menu. He’s come up with a tamarind, ginger, and lemongrass base that they are trying to pair with the right alcohol. Today he’s mixing it with a Thai white rum from Phuket, Chalong Bay Rum, and lime juice to make a funky take on a Daiquiri.

Yok sips hers and hums, smacking her lips in satisfaction. Porsche is pleased with how this one came out. They can use the local aspects of the drink to make it sell better.

“Best thing I ever did was hire your scrawny ass,” Yok teases him.

Porsche scoffs dramatically, “Scrawny? I was not scrawny!”

Yok tips back her head cackling. It pulls a smile out of Porsche as well; he loves this woman with all his heart.

“You were though! Still trying to fill out and figure out your way in the world.” She reaches over and pinches his cheek. “You may have been a fighter even then, but it took you time to grow into those long legs and yourself.”

She isn’t wrong. Porsche struggled to fit in, not looking or acting like an omega “should”— whatever that fucking was. Yok, who knew something about the struggle to find one’s own identity, acted as a guide and a confidant. She never judged, but she did make a great shoulder to cry on.

This chapter will come out tomorrow, so keep an eye for that! Still need to read chapter 1? You can find it here: https://archiveofourown.org/works/44397949/chapters/111665977

#wip wednesday #my fic #Silvered Perceptions #omegaverse #porsche #kinnporsche #Kinn #kinn theerapanyakul #porsche kittisawasd #kinnporche the series #kinn/porsche #cocktails #If I'm going to write about them you all can learn too #adventures in mixology #welcome to my ted talk

27 notes · View notes

theiconicscott · 2 years

Text

WIP Wednesday

this is an idea i've been thinking about for a few days. it's not the actual start but this part suddenly appeared very clearly in my mind tonight, and i like writing my rough drafts in tumblr posts, so i thought i'd type this up and share it now.

the only backstory you need for this is eddie and buck are in an established relationship, and buck has moved in with the diaz boys but hasn't spoken to eddie in a few days for... reasons.

enjoy!

Buck bounces across the loft, his long legs quickly carrying him from the stairs to the main dining table, and grins at Eddie as he swipes the mug of coffee Chimney's just made. "Hey, I was about to drink that!" Chim cries, getting up to try and take the mug back. "I used the last of the good coffee for that one, you can't just steal it!"

"Well I have been on a journey of discovery today, and realised something very important about myself," Buck says, loud and proud like he's about to announce he's won a medal, or got a place on the Olympic Firefighting team. "So I think you should be a very good friend, Chimney Han, and let me have the last cup of the good coffee."

Eddie stares at Buck, more than a little intrigued. Today they were meant to be cleaning the house and catching up on laundry, and while Eddie wasn't surprised to find an apology note when he woke this morning, he did wonder where Buck had gone and what had kept him occupied all day.

At least now Eddie may start to get answers to some of the questions building up in his head.

"Shift starts in 15," Bobby reminds them, looking up from his newspaper and own cup of coffee to smile at Buck, "and we have to prepare for an inspection tomorrow. If you want to tell us the news, Buck, you'd better make it quick."

"Sure thing, Cap."

Buck takes a moment, sipping generously at the coffee and stealing a cookie from the table to go with it, and Eddie wants to roll his eyes. He loves this man - adores him, worships him, praises every deity known to man that Eddie got to meet Evan Buckley and fall in love with him and have Buck love him back - but he can be melodramatic about the simplest things, and Eddie's pretty sure this big reveal won't give much payoff after all the build up.

"I have figured out why Buck 1.0 had sex with so many people."

The rest of the group find it funny - Chimney and Hen both outwardly laugh, and Bobby cracks a smile that is way too amused and knowing for the Cap to be wearing - but Eddie doesn't. Buck 1.0 was gone long before he arrived, and while Eddie's heard a lot about the casual hook ups he frequently had, Eddie doesn't know much about the man behind that, who sought out those easy, short term relationships when they clearly didn't make him happy.

There's also the fact that this discovery may be linked to Buck's little freak out last week, and Eddie can't hide the fact he's still dying to find out what caused it in the first place.

When Chimney and Hen finally calm down, Bobby speaks up before Eddie or Buck can comment on their reactions. "Buck, we know why you had sex with so many people then. You enjoyed it, and for those few moments you could forget about everything else in your life and just focus on the high of getting laid."

"Ah," Buck says, pointing his finger at Bobby and using the coffee mug as well in the gesture, since it's in the same hand. "Now that is where you are wrong, Robert Nash, and as a recovering addict yourself I'm surprised you think of it that way."

They all settle down at that, the amusement fading and curiousness creeping in. "Okay," Hen says slowly. "So why did you have sex with so many people back then?"

Buck tries to drink from the mug again, and frowns when he finds it empty. Undeterred by the surprise, he puts the mug down on the table, and leans towards the group as he gets ready to talk. "Research has shown that addiction is about a lack of connection, and most addicts turn to unhealthy behaviours to cope with feelings of loneliness, isolation, and the pain that comes from not having a strong support system," Buck explains, and they nod along. "I wasn't enjoying the sex, so I wasn't chasing a pleasurable high to cope with those feelings. I was seeking out people to form a connection with, and the only way I could find them quickly and when I needed that support was to say I was looking for sex."

For a long moment everyone sits in silence, trying to process the new information. Chimney looks shocked, and Hen and Bobby look more than a little confused, but to Eddie it makes sense. There is no other way in modern society to pick up a friend for the night, and while a one night stand won't generally stick around for a heart to heart after, many parts of the experience would help to ease the bad feelings Buck may have been struggling with at those times.

"And just to clarify," Chimney says, his gaze fixed on Buck as he finds the right words, "you were not enjoying all the sex you were having with hot young women?"

The rest of the group groan, and Hen even hits him with a rolled up magazine. "Really, Howard?" She asks, shaking her head in disbelief. "That's what you took away from Buck opening up and sharing his feelings with us?"

"Whaaat?" Chimney looks at each of them in turn, his eyes wide. "It's a legitimate question!"

#911 on fox #buddie fic #wip wednesday #my writing #evan buck buckley #eddie diaz #apologies for any spelling mistakes or other problems #i will fix those in a later draft #for now i just wanted to do some writing #and i'm really happy with this so it worked!#also let me know what you all think #because i would love to hear from you!#911 tv show tag

7 notes · View notes

heyitsani · 4 years

Text

You Can't Wake up, This Is Not a Dream

Batman Bingo 2020: "Why can’t you see that?”

Word Count: 3457

Rating: Teen and up

Warnings: Jason swears and there’s mentions of past emotional trauma/abuse (depending on how you look at Bruce’s treatment of Dick when he fired him from Robin)

Pairing: Dick Grayson/Jason Todd

Summary: Damian decides it's time to move on from Robin, but he has a requirement that takes Dick and Bruce by surprise.

Notes: This is a big FU to DC for their treatment of Damian and Robin. I also started writing this months ago. It was my WIP from this past Wednesday that I finished two days ago but didn’t get the chance to post. Up next is my Duke request that I am polishing up now. I might post it today, but most likely tomorrow.

Updated card at the bottom of this post.

You can also read this on AO3 here

“No Father, I insist.” Dick watched Damian’s bright green eyes look from Bruce to Dick and then back. And he could tell his brother meant what he was saying, but even Dick could see it was illogical.

Sighing, Dick leaned back against the table of the batcomputer and crossed his arms over his chest. “Dames, Batman needs Robin. We’ve all seen what happens when he doesn’t have one,” Dick tried to reason with his brother. Sure, there had been a time when Dick would have expected Batman’s sidekick to bear a different name, but he had gotten over that (mostly) a long time ago.

“That is not true, Richard. He simply needs his partner. I am sure that spot can easily be filled, but it should not be with another Robin.”

“And what would you have me do then, Damian?” Bruce spoke up for the first time since agreeing that Damian should start moving away from his role as Robin. At the age of 18, it was time he became his own hero. The youngest had come to Bruce and Dick while they talked about some gear Dick had come to borrow and asked them what they had thought about him hanging up the mantle. Dick had enthusiastically agreed and congratulated his brother. Bruce had been much calmer and subdue but had also thought it a good idea. But when Dick mentioned having to find a new Robin, Damian had outright said no.

Damian shrugged a shoulder. “Move on,” he said as if it were the simplest thing in the world.

“Just like that?” Damian’s silence at Bruce’s question spoke volumes. But none of this explained why Damian thought Robin needed to retire with him. And Dick could tell he was holding something back, but whether it was because of Bruce’s presence or Dick’s, the older brother couldn’t quite tell.

And though Dick wanted answers, he heaved a sigh of relief when his phone rang and Jason’s name lit up his screen.

“Jay.”

“I got the location for tonight’s drop. You headed back yet?”

“Not yet, got a little sidetracked. I have the gear and I’ll be heading out soon.” He heard Jason mumble something and Dick had a feeling he didn’t want to know what the younger man had said. “Yeah yeah, I’ll grab food on my way back.”

“You better. Let me know when you leave.”

Dick gave an affirmative before ending the call. “Look, Jay and I have an important op tonight that I need to get back to. Call me tomorrow Dames. We can talk some more.” Damian nodded and Dick reached over to give his brother a hug before he clapped a hand to Bruce’s shoulder. “Thanks for the gear, Old Man. I’ll send the reports to you in a few days.”

“Be safe,” came the all too familiar grunt from Bruce as Dick walked away. Turning to walk backwards toward his car, Dick smiled brightly and held his arms open.

“Aren’t I always?”

“No, you’re not, Grayson!” Damian’s face looked annoyed, but Dick just laughed before sliding into his car.

The drive back to Bludhaven was plagued with thoughts about what Damian had said. And he still couldn’t figure out why his brother wanted Robin to be retired. He just couldn’t find any reason. When Dick had asked him to take up the cape, Damian had been thrilled. A little overconfident and stubborn, but he had still been ready to fight. They all had. So why wouldn’t Damian want someone else to have that same emotion? It just didn’t make sense.

But he supposed he wouldn’t figure it out until Damian felt he should know. So, he dropped the line of thought and focused on the tasks at hand. A brief stop at a local Thai place to get the order he told Jason to place distracted him enough that he stopped thinking about the situation long enough to get back to the apartment he and Jason shared.

“Jay?” He called out as he pushed open the door, dropping his keys in the bowl near the door and letting the duffle bag he had placed the gear he had borrowed from Bruce drop to the floor next to the small table.

“Finally, I’m fucking starving.” Dick snorted and made his way into the kitchen where he found Jason grabbing plates and utensils. “Where’s the stuff?”

Dick jerked his head toward the front door as he placed the two bags of food onto the counter and leaned over to press a kiss to the corner of Jason’s mouth. It earned him a pleased rumble that brought a smile to Dick’s face. “Over by the door. Leave it there. We can look it over later.” Jason looked like he wanted to argue, but after a glance at Dick’s face he let it drop.

“You okay?”

“Yeah, I’m good,” Dick told him, turning his focus on unbagging the food but Jason’s hand slipping around his waist and the resting his chin on Dick’s shoulder pulled his attention.

“What happened?”

Sighing, Dick stopped what he was doing and leaned back into Jason. “Dames is going to step down from Robin, be his own hero.” And though he couldn’t see his face, he knew that Jason would look confused.

“That’s a good thing. Kid is getting too old to be a sidekick. That can’t be what’s upsetting you.”

“I’m not upset,” Dick told him, feeling Jason tense to argue. “I’m not. I’m curious. He told B and me he doesn’t want anyone else to take up the Robin mantle after him. He didn’t seem like he wanted to get into the reason why with both of us there. But I don’t know if he didn’t want me to know or if it was Bruce he didn’t want to know.”

“Bruce.”

Turning to look at Jason, Dick raised a brow. “That’s an awfully certain answer awfully quick.”

Jason pulled back and shrugged a shoulder. “I might know why he feels that way. He and I had a talk a few weeks ago and I think he took something I said to heart.” Dick’s eyes narrowed slightly, but he remained silent to see if Jason would say more. “Whether or not you’re willing to admit it to anyone other than me or the brat, that kid thinks of you as his dad. B might be ‘Father’ or whatever, but you are his Dad.”

Dick was aware of what everyone thought of his and Damian’s relationship. Even if the pair had never discussed it. “But that’s not what this is about.”

“No, it’s not. But because of how he feels, he takes things involving you and your emotions seriously.” And yeah, Dick knew that. “I said a lot of the issues between you and B would never be resolved so long as someone else was running around wearing the colors of the Flying Grayson’s while responding to the name your mother used to call you…”

“Jay, you didn’t,” Dick sighed, closing his eyes.

“Look, I know you told me that in the dark because you didn’t want to hurt me but my emotions involving those years as Robin are buried under so much shit, I hardly remember our issues from then. But I know you well enough to know that so long as Robin flies, your wound will never heal.”

That hushed conversation in the darkness of their bedroom, his head resting on Jason’s chest so he could listen to the strong beat of his heart had been hard. And Dick couldn’t even remember how it had come about, but he didn’t regret telling Jason exactly why he had been so angry when Bruce had given Jason the mantle without telling Dick first. Bruce, who had known where the colors and the name had come from, hadn’t even hesitated. And when Dick had told his guardian that, he had been brushed aside and told it was bigger than Dick.

And that had hurt.

He was Robin, the others took on the persona but Dick. Was. Robin.

“I’m not going to apologize for telling him.” And Dick would never have expected that anyway. It wasn’t like he had told Jason it was a secret and to keep it that way. “And I won’t apologize for putting your emotional wellbeing before B’s crusade. You will always win.” Dick knew that.

“I wish you wouldn’t have put that on his shoulders. Out of everyone, it shouldn’t have been his,” he says, sighing softly as he leans back against the counter.

“I know, Goldie, but I also had a feeling today’s chat would be coming soon. And sue me for not wanting to see you deal with another person becoming Robin.” Jason sounded defensive, but the look on his face was too apologetic for that.

Rubbing at his forehead, Dick sighed again and shook his head. “It doesn’t matter right now. Let’s just eat and then get tonight figured out. I told Damian to call me tomorrow, so I can talk to him about it then.” He watched Jason watch him for a moment before nodding and they both turned back to dealing with the food.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“You got a visitor, Dickhead!” Dick heard Jason call out. He hadn’t bothered to get out of their bed yet after last night’s late and painful mission. He was still feeling the pain meds he had caved and taken after the knife wound to his leg had been stitched up. “Don’t you dare get out of that fucking bed,” Jason’s voice sounded, from the doorway this time.

“I don’t think I could, even if I wanted to,” Dick admitted, voice rough from the sleep he had been pulled from.

Behind Jason’s imposing figure, Dick could make out the shape of his youngest brother. “Grayson, Todd told me what happened last night. How are you feeling?” Dick shrugged a shoulder and rubbed at his face before attempting to push himself up to sit against the headboard of the bed.

“Stop it, you idiot. You’ll tear your stitches,” Jason reprimanded him softly, rushing over to help Dick get in the position he wanted. Once there were no less than four pillows behind him and he swore he wasn’t in any significant amount of pain, Jason moved away and looked at Damian. The younger hadn’t come more than a few steps into the room, watching his older brother. “I’m going to get you some food so you can take some more pills, Boy Idiot. Want some coffee or tea, Dames?”

“Tea would be acceptable,” Damian answered as he shifted further into the room and waited for Jason to leave. Dick watched Damian take in the state of the room and Dick found himself eternally glad for Jason’s neat freak nature that had forced him into already cleaning up the bloody mess that had been his uniform and the stuff they had used to patch up his leg in the early hours of the morning.

“Take a seat, Dami,” Dick said gently, patting the spot next to him. He chuckled when Damian eyed Jason’s spot distastefully before settling on the edge near Dick’s injured leg. “I thought you were going to call? Why did you drive all the way out here?”

“You’re injured, you fool.”

“And that means I can’t talk on the phone?” Dick teased, watching Damian roll his eyes in annoyance.

“Of course not. But I wanted to be sure Todd was taking adequate care of you.” Dick ‘oh-ed’ and nodded his head. “Things seem to be up to par,” he admitted, and Dick hummed. “Todd told me he told you what he and I spoke of.”

“He did. And I’m sorry he put that on you, Dames. I didn’t want any of you to know something that is beyond fixing.” Dick watched Damian stare at his lap, hands folded properly in his lap as he sat there motionless. “Talk to me kid.”

That caught Damian’s attention and the scoff at the nickname brought a warmth to Dick’s chest.

“I am not a child, Grayson.”

“No, but you’re still my baby brother and something is bugging you.”

Without looking at Dick, Damian shrugged his shoulders and Dick couldn’t help but marvel at how much the other man had changed in the eight years he had been in the family. From petulant murder brat to a mature and emotional man. It was more than his father could say.

“Dames?” Dick prompted, trying to get the other man to tell him what he was thinking.

“You gave me Robin.” Damian finally looked over at Dick and the elder wasn’t sure what the look on his face meant so he remained silent and nodded. “Of all your successors, I am the only one you chose.”

“You are my progeny, yes.”

“No, not like that,” Damian waved a hand in exasperation. “Robin was stolen from you over and over. Your own name, your own identity. It was ripped from you and given to Todd, to Drake, to Brown without your consent.” Again, Dick nodded, seeing where this was going. “But you took it back from Drake and you gave it to me when you could have given me something else. Why did you do that?”

And wow if that wasn’t a loaded question. And one that Dick wasn’t sure he could answer. It hadn’t even occurred to him to take Robin and retire it completely. He hadn’t ever considered that. To him, it was too late to right that particular wrong of his youth.

“It wouldn’t have healed that wound, Dames. The damage was done and sometimes it’s just not worth it.”

But Damian was shaking his head. “And me forcing Father to retire Robin won’t make a difference either?”

“Bruce and I will never bridge that particular gap. If that is why you are doing this, don’t. I forgave him a long time ago, but I’ll never be able to forget. I am in love with one of the reasons I’ll never be able to forget,” Dick laughed, waving a hand in the general direction of the kitchen where he knew Jason was.

“Why must you do that?” Dick raised an eyebrow. “Why do you have to be so flippant about your own emotions when you are anything but with everyone else’s?”

“It’s easier that way, Damian,” Dick admitted with a sigh. It was easier to ignore the things he felt when it came to the past or the pain he had suffered over the years. He knew if he spent too much time lingering on those thoughts and emotions, he would never dig himself back out of that hole. He would be crushed under the weight of the things he had never bothered to deal with. Mirage, Catalina, Blockbuster, his parents, and so many other things. So much grief and loss, so much pain. It would bury him, and he would never get up again. “In order for me to survive, this is what I have to do.”

Damian watched him and Dick waited, hoping he wouldn’t do what Dick had done to him so many times in the past and force him to talk about it. Instead, Dick found himself with his arms full of his baby brother for an extremely rare Damian-initiated hug. Letting his eyes close for a moment, he let himself relax into the hug because it felt good. He was always an affectionate person, but it was so rare people returned that affection. Often, he was basically forcing it on others. The moments when people forced it on him? He relished them.

Though he expected Damian to pull away after a minute, Dick found himself held longer than he would have ever thought. “You’re emotions are valid. Your pain is just as important as the rest of ours. Why can’t you see that?” The words were spoken into his shoulder, muffled by muscle and the material of Dick’s shirt. “I stand by what I told Father,” Damian whispered into Dick’s shoulder and Dick hummed his question. “Robin should retire.” He pulled back and green eyes met sapphire, burning hot with determination. “There are plenty of options for partners for Batman. And Father is not losing Robin the way he lost him with Todd.”

Dick considered his words, leaning further into the pile of pillows behind him as Damian resumed his previous position. Jason chose that moment to come into the room with a plate of food and two mugs in hand. One look at his face told Dick he had heard the last bit of the conversation.

Smiling softly at Jason, Dick took the plate and the mug and watched Jason hand the other mug to Damian. He chuckled at the sight of the grilled cheese and the pain pills. “Thanks, Jay,” he tilted his head, hinting for Jason to give him a kiss. A request that was quickly fulfilled before the man leaned against the wall near the bed, facing the two brothers on the bed. “Got something to say?”

“I might, but my opinion doesn’t really matter on this one.”

“Neither does mine,” Dick said, more to Damian than to Jason. At Damian’s frown, Dick shrugged a shoulder. “I’m not Robin anymore, Dames. It’s is yours and no one else’s. If you want it to retire, then retire it. I appreciate the sentiment behind it, and I would be so incredibly proud to have the name retire under you, but it is your decision.” Dick watched Damian look over to Jason and from the corner of his vision he could see Jason nod, confirming that what Dick was saying was true.

“Then I suppose all that’s left is to figure out who I am to be now.”

And Dick didn’t envy Damian on that front. It had been difficult to come up with Nightwing. And he had the help of Clark on that one.

“What do you want, Damian? Do you want to remain in Gotham, or do you want to find your own place?” Dick took a bite of his sandwich to keep himself from questioning Jason, but it didn’t hide the frown and question in his eyes when he looked at his boyfriend. “We could always use help here in the ‘Haven.”

That seemed to have caught Damian’s attention and Dick continued to eat while the youngest of them worked things through in his mind. Once he had consumed enough of the sandwich, Dick took the pills Jason had given him before setting the mug of tea down on the bedside table.

“You’re always welcome here, Dames. And if that’s something you think you might be interested in, then perhaps you should make a visit to Clark’s and have him tell you the legend he told me when I was in your position.” Though his own position had been forced upon him and not quite by choice the way it will be for Damian.

“The legend of Nightwing and Flamebird? Yes, Jon told me that years ago,” Damian waved a hand in dismissal. “He was so haughty about knowing how you came to be Nightwing because Clark is so proud of his influence on you.”

Jason snorted out a laugh and Dick simply raised an eyebrow at his youngest brother.

“I wouldn’t let your father know about that, if I were you,” Dick chuckled. While Bruce had gotten much better in relation to Clark over the years, he still held an edge of mistrust with the Kryptonian. It wasn’t personal, it was just Bruce being the paranoid bastard he always was. Dick was convinced if he hadn’t raised all of his Robins, he never would have trusted them. Steph was proof of that. They had been like oil and water.

“I think I shall meditate on the subject for a while and see what conclusion I come to.” Dick leaned forward and placed a hand on his brother’s upper arm, squeezing lightly.

“We will help however we can, you know that. But don’t keep Bruce in the dark if you do plan on leaving Gotham. He doesn’t handle change well. We all know that.” Dick reminded Damian, who nodded with a deep frown.

Jason clapped his hands together before moving forward to ruffle Damian’s perfectly coifed hair. “Congrats Demon Brat, you’re on your way to being a real man.”

“Fuck off, Todd,” Damian growled, swatting Jason’s hand away as Dick leaned back and laughed at the pair. Whatever his younger brother decided, Dick knew it would be the right decision for him. And he couldn’t help but be proud of the man he had become in the years since he had joined the family as a petulant and snotty ten year old.

#Batmanbingo2020 #batman bingo 2020 #Damian Wayne #dick grayson #Jason Todd #Bruce Wayne #Robin #Nightwing #Red Hood #Batman #batfam #anikah writes #fanfic #fan fiction #jaydick #dickjay

30 notes · View notes

dickbaggins · 3 years

Text

hey hey the amazing @gollyderek tagged me to share some of a wip and since it’s technically now wednesday, let’s call it wip wednesday! I’m working on two things, my low/urban fantasy series (and I do mean low, it’s set in jersey city) and a very impulsive frank/billy/deadpool that I started last night that everyone’s already sick of! So here’s some garbage!

so my main project for nano is a fantasy series about a very traumatized incubus (who doesn’t know he’s an incubus and who happens to look exactly like ben barnes) working as a private investigator in a supernaturally-populated jersey city. he’s really awkward, and here, his new sidekicks, an angel and an immortal warrior who may or may not be diarmuid and the mute from pilgrimage, help him get ready for a date:

“How have you never been on a date?” Tim says at the apartment door, blustering in with Laz following behind him. “You’re like, the dreamiest thing in the whole city. The whole eastern seaboard. There should be a line out this door for dates with you. How do you even fill your time if you’re not dating?”

And he goes on and on, walking straight ahead to Gem’s bedroom, to the closet and the dresser.

Gem shoots a nervous look at Laz, who smiles with his mouth closed and pats Gem on the back. It’s comforting even if there’s no words, but Gem’s stomach is still flipping.

“I’ve had bad experiences,” is all Gem says, sitting down heavily on the edge of his bed while Tim combs through his closet.

“Do you even know the place he wants to meet you at? That place is expensive as hell. It has a michelin star!”

“I don’t know what that is.”

“Oh my god. Gemini. This might be a fake date but do not go into it thinking that.”

“What should I be thinking, then?”

“A companionable night with a new flame,” Tim rattles off with a bit of a lecherous grin. “Do you not have a suit? What forty year old man doesn’t have a suit?”

“Me, I guess. What would I need a suit for?”

“Men need suits, Gem,” Tim sighs, exasperated as he continues through the closet, setting out a few things still on hangers on top of the dresser. “Especially when they’re going to one of the most expensive restaurants in the city with one of the most eligible bachelors in the state!”

“Well...date’s not until tomorrow,” Gem points out, glancing from Laz in the doorway as ever, to Tim still pawing through his clothes. “That’s enough time for a suit, right?”

Tim turns around with his eyes narrowed, hands on his hips, puffing a sigh and shaking his head. “You’ve got a lot to learn about suits, Gemini Royle.”

and last night I started writing based on a slew of terrible deadpool fourth wall jokes about frank and billy and, well, I had a lot of fun writing it but I doubt it’s ever going to see the light of day after this post. Here’s all of it so far, because why the fuck not! It’s set in an alternate s2 where Frank saves Bill at the end and then has to figure out what the fuck to do with him.

It’s tense in here, in Frank’s shithole studio apartment. Seems too small for him to be standing here on his own, let alone with Billy Russo across from him. There’s absolutely nowhere to hide. And there's a lot of things Frank, for once, wants to hide from. Namely, the ruin of Billy’s face and the wan, pale tone of his skin, the sharp, watery glint of his eyes.

He’s almost died twice now, at Frank’s hands, and the only difference this time was Frank calling in favours. He still doesn’t know why he did it. So he can’t answer Billy’s sole question of why why why. He can just look. And wonder at his own foolish actions. Again.

They’re locked like that, staring at each other, wondering, waiting for who’s gonna be the first one up to incite violence. Judging from the flop sweat on Billy’s brow, it’s not likely to be him, this time. Frank doesn’t have any answers for him, doesn’t even have an impulse to finish the job. It’s gone beyond sad, at this point.

At this point, it’s just stupid.

There’s a tap on the window, rattling it in it’s delicate prewar frame and Frank’s stomach drops out.

Things are about to get even stupider, somehow.

The tap precedes the awkward scrabbling and the window opens to the cold city air rushing in for a few seconds until the lanky, red and black clad figure thumps inelegantly into the room, landing hard on his hip, immediately reaching up to slam the window back shut, one-handed.

This is just about the worst timing Frank can imagine. He winces, glancing at Billy but it’s too late; the other man’s already crossed the few steps towards the window, hauling the intruder up by his neck and pushing him up against the wall.

“Whoa, Frank, i didn’t know you had company, like, ever,” Wade Wilson starts, rapid-fire, his voice a little higher than usual for Billy’s long fingers squeezing at his neck. “Let alone a freaking Disney prince, holy hell. I mean, a very specific Disney prince, except it kinda looks like Aslan finally went rogue and did some damage. God, when will people learn? Wild animals cannot be tamed, even if they are Jesus or whatever.”

“Wilson, shut up,” Frank mutters, feeling a headache growing, slamming him like a dart right between the eyes.

“Friend of yours?” Billy hisses, his black eyes fixed wild on Wade Wilson, wide and dangerous.

“I could ask the same question,” Wade says, voice even tighter, his long body starting to slump a little, “But I'm starting to see all kindsa fun stars and black holes here, so I don’t think I’m gonna get it out. Hi, I’m Deadpool, I’m Frank’s new best friend and gosh, you’ve got big hands.”

Frank watches Billy’s hand tighten for a second before he finally lets go, and Wilson sinks to the floor with his legs outstretched.

“Frank?” Billy looks to him, eyebrows raised expectantly.

“Yeah, yeah, he’s fine. I know him.”

“He’s being modest,” Wade coughs, absently waving his hands around like they’re half-limp, half-useless, and Frank can never tell when he’s joking. “We’re embarking on a really juicy enemies-with-benefits-to-friends-with-benefits-to-lovers-with-guns arc. Fifteen chapters minimum, probably well over 500k words. Slow burn, I’m assuming, since we haven’t even kissed yet. Maybe tonight’s the night, huh, Frank?”

“I camped out on a rooftop with him once, a few months back,” Frank offers by way of easier to understand explanations. “Staking out the same warehouse. Wouldn’t shut up.”

“Is this...the red pajamas guy?” Billy starts slowly, squinting down at Wade.

“I don’t even wear pajamas to bed but oh my god, you’ve been talking about me? I’m blushing.”

“Yeah, from the papers,” Billy continues, “The devil of hell’s kitchen. Your buddy from a while back.”

“Ooooh, easy mistake. The main difference is the catholic repression. If you thought Frank was bad, you should see that guy! I bet those two had some real snoozer conversations, huh? Dithering over rosaries and the nuances of communion wafers. No, see, I’m Deadpool.”

“Right,” Billy huffs out of his nose, looking at Frank again. He looks lost; he looks, a little, like how Frank found him in that basement after Curtis called him, like things are moving too fast and even he can’t keep up. “Frankie? Everything cool?”

“Yeah, Bill. we’re good.”

“Bill! You’re that guy!” Wade says, scrambling to his feet, his boots squeaking on the floor. He rushes to tug his mask up out of his suit and off, presenting his mottled, scarred face with a big grin at Billy. “We’re like, face twins! Or we would be, if the producers had the balls to even try and make you look ugly. See, that’s a main facet of my personality, so they couldn’t skip over it with me. Same vibe, though!”

Frank’s seen it all, as far as injuries go; hell, he designed the lines and craters on Billy’s face with his own two hands, watched him gush blood over meat and bone. Maybe that was why, the first time Wilson took his mask off (with a warning of ‘hold on to your balls, baby’), Frank hadn’t done much more than survey the damage and nod once. He still can’t figure out if Wilson was offended or impressed, that night, although judging from the way he can’t shake the merc, he figures it’s the latter.

Billy has nearly the same reaction, a detached curiosity, a slight purse of his lips as he looks Wilson’s face over. “Didn’t think anyone could look worse than me.”

“Oh please, you’re still such a panty-drencher. And those big black eyes, gosh, I’m swooning,” Wilson says, clutching at his chest through his suit. “Oh, are you my romantic rival? For Frank’s affection? Cause I mean, from how he talks about you, it really sounds like there was some - “ he makes a circle with his thumb and the fingers of one hand, poking his other index finger through it multiple times, slow and then fast, and then there’s two fingers, and then three, and Frank’s just about to tell him to jump his ass back out the window when Billy actually laughs.

Frank hasn’t heard that noise in so long, not in any kind of genuine way, and there’s something about it that eases up the hard clutch of his chest, the ice in his guts. “Don’t encourage him,” Frank grumbles nonetheless, throwing himself into making coffee in the kitchen, the usual first activity he does when Wade’s just tumbled in through his window.

“I think I like this guy,” Billy says, and Frank hears the distinct muffled sound of Wilson clapping his gloved hands behind him.

“We should do a team-up! It’ll make the romantic tension even better, when Frank and I finally do start putting things in very tight places. Very tight, Frank. In case you’re wondering.”

“I’m not,” he shoots back over his shoulder, glad his back is turned for that particular phrase. It’s not like he’s been impervious to Wilson’s flirtations; it’s hard to be made of stone when he’s fawning after you, something so sweet and clingy in his affection.

“I guess we could do a whole-ass threeway relationship,” Wilson considers thoughtfully, and the thumping noise now is him sailing onto the loveseat; Frank’s been getting to know that one a little too well in recent weeks. “It’s been done before, more or less, by way better. And you’re supposed to be a bad guy, right? Frank saving you from the icy clutches of death really boned up your canon, huh? Someone’s blindly sentimental with a bullish villain boner and I don’t mean him. Come, sit, let’s chat.”

Wade’s the only person Frank’s ever met that talks as much as Bill, and having them on the same couch, let alone in the same room is something he’s never even considered. The chatter is nice though, in a way, filling up the space where there’s usually silence, where he’d been worried, actually, about this thing now, with Billy. Where he’s back to something like fighting fit and got nowhere else to go, so he’s crashing here before Curtis nuts up and calls the cops. Somehow, having Wade Wilson with the worst timing ever, has taken a good deal of pressure off the whole situation.

“And you’re both snipers! That’s really romantic. So much time in foxholes together, huh? All those long nights with nothing else to do but mutual handies and some high school style necking, gosh, it almost makes me nostalgic.”

Frank’s never heard Wilson talk about his own special forces record before, but he’s at least wrist-deep into it with Billy listening, perched on the arm of the couch. The apartment’s small enough that Frank can lean on the kitchen counter and still take part, although he doesn’t have much to add. He crosses his arms and waits for the water to boil, waits for either of them to run out of conversation but it’s not happening.

3 notes · View notes