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patchworkorphan · 3 months

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Heroic Betrayal - Part five

Read part one here

Continued from this part here

*~*~*~*~*

What kind of idiot were they to be stuck here? Hero should have told Sidekick when they got the tip about Villain… they should have told them that they were going to rough Villain up a bit, get the information they needed on Other Villain’s whereabouts and beat the shit out of them. Just a little revenge for touching a hair on Sidekick’s innocent head.

Even if they managed to catch Villain and mete out justice on Other Villain, they would have beaten the ever-living shit out of the wrong person, and that was something Hero didn’t want to think about in that moment.

That Flynn…

Their Flynn was the one who put Sidekick in the med bay.

Sidekick, who was still in the med bay, where Hero should be, but no. Instead, they were here, powerless and bleeding and it was all their fault.

Hero didn’t know how long they sat and stewed on that thought. Long enough that their nose stopped bleeding anyway. Hero tentatively reached up to their upper lip, their hand came away from it dry, the blood caked and flaked onto their face now.

“What happened to your face?” Hero angled their head down from where they stared at the ceiling to see Flynn standing on the other side of the cell bars.

“Fuck off, Red,” Hero grumbled, and fought the wince at their casual nickname for Flynn slipping out of their lips. “I’m not in the mood.”

A jangle of keys and the cell door was open, footsteps approaching Hero in their cot in the corner. Hero’s heart ached with every beat as Flynn came into their line of sight, concern drawing their features together.

How many times had they seen that same concern on his face? Told Hero it was going to be okay. Cleaned their wounds, laughed about the bruises the next day?

How much of it was a lie? — Hero wanted to ask. The question burned a hole on the tip of their tongue, but they didn’t dare speak it. They just stared up at the ceiling as best they could.

“What? You piss someone off already?”

Hero sighed. Flynn sat on the edge of the bed, moving closer to Hero hands going to inspect the damage. Hero slapped their hands away, tears burning in the back of their eyes.

“Don’t fucking touch me, Flynn,” Hero bit out. “You don’t get to betray me and then pretend to be my friend and concerned about me.”

Flynn stared; eyes sad as he said: “okay. Guess I deserve that.”

“You deserve so much more,” Hero said, eyes burning with hatred, voice barely above a whisper. “How many of our friends died because of you? Hmm?”

“Hero, not all of it–” Flynn began then stopped, huffed out a breath of air through his nose, hand running through his hair. “Not all of it was a lie. I am your friend. I do care about you.”

“Oh really? Then you’d never use your power on me, right?” Hero demanded, echoing back Flynn’s words against him. Flynn had the audacity to even look guilty at that, and Hero leaned forwards, hands on Flynn’s as they said: “I forgive you, okay. I forgive you if you let me go. Flynn, please.”

Flynn’s eyebrows knit together, clearly conflicted but he said nothing. After a moment, Hero let out a breath of disbelief and sat back against the wall again.

“Yeah,” Hero scoffed, “we’re friends.”

“You have blood all over your face, Hero. You really want to just leave it?”

“Why the hell not?” Hero said, trying to force their tone into some form of neutrality.

Flynn sighed and stood up from the cot. “Supervillain wants an audience with you. I was sent to retrieve you.”

Hero rolled their eyes but got to their feet no less. “Of course,” they said, pushing past Flynn to the door. “God help you actually wanted to see how I was doing.”

“Hero—”

“I don’t want to talk to you anymore. Let’s just go.”

“Hero that’s not—”

Before they could get the fourth word out, Hero had whirled on them eyes blazing hotter than any hells furnace.

“Fair?!” They asked incredulously, their voice jumping two pitches at the sheer audacity of the word on their lips. “Is that what you were going to say?”

Flynn didn’t back down this time. Instead they stepped forward, looking down their nose at Hero.

“Yes. That is what I was going to say.”

“You are unbelievable!” Hero snapped matching Flynn with a step forward of their own. They held their cuffed hands up in Flynn’s face as if to remind him exactly why Hero was there in the first place. “If you’re my friend you’ll take these off.”

“Hero you know I can’t—”

Hero didn’t let him finish. Instead they placed their palms on Flynn’s chest and shoved them as hard as they could. Flynn looked about as bothered as if a fly had flown into the room.

“I can’t uncuff you Hero,” Hero said, lowering their voice to mimic Flynn’s and shoving him back again. “I can’t let you go Hero.” And again. “I can’t fucking think—” shove “for myself” shove “Hero.”

Hero glared up at Flynn trying to fight back the frustrated tears building behind her eyes. Anger was easier to focus on in the moment rather than that vast aching pit twisting uncomfortably in their gut.

“But I promise I’m your friend, Hero,” Hero mocked, shoving him back again until Flynn’s back hit off the wall. Flynn’s eyebrows curved down and it left a pang in Hero’s chest that they hated. “And then you have the gall to look hurt. As if I betrayed you.”

Hero ignored the tears that fell at the last sentence, or at least tried to. They tried to be firm and act tough, but saying the betrayal out loud, acknowledging it when it was just the two of them was too much.

“Would you trust me if the roles were reversed?” Hero asked, not even wanting to look at Flynn for the answer. The more they saw the conflict on his face the harder it was to hate him. Flynn however, didn’t take this into consideration when he put his hand on Hero’s face and tilted it back to face him.

Hero narrowed their eyes at him, pushing every ounce of anger into their gaze hoping they would turn into actual daggers and stab him.

“No,” Flynn breathed softly, thumb wiping away the tear streaks from Hero’s face. “I wouldn’t trust you if the roles were reversed, but I would hear you out of you tried to explain it to me.”

“And if I took you to Supervillain?!” Hero asked, their voice low and furious as they stepped out of Flynn’s touch. “The enemy we’ve been trying to stop for months?”

“You.”

“What?!” Hero demanded hotly.

Flynn’s gaze had hardened, his face devoid of all emotion now except for his usual mask of easy confidence, smirk on his lips as if he didn’t just wipe Hero’s tears away.

“The enemy you’ve been trying to stop for months,” Flynn said again taking a step forward, a dangerous glint in his eyes. Hero matched it with one back, cautious, hackles raised. “I mean the man you borderline obsessed over, Hero. Don’t you want to meet the genius who eluded you, the great detective, for all that time?”

“Not particularly,” Hero said through gritted teeth, with another step back that Flynn matched, getting closer and closer each time.

“That’s what you called him though, right? A genius,” Flynn teased, his grin showing his teeth. “I mean, fuck, Hero some of the moves he made you were damn right impressed with. You even said you’d have done exactly the same thing if—”

“I was in his position,” Hero cut Flynn off. Flynn’s smirk grew wider as he took another step closer, dipping his head conspiratorially.

“Now you can be,” said Flynn with a wide gesture of his hands. Hero followed his hand to the cell door that they happened to be right beside. Hero was keenly aware that Flynn was backing them towards the door the whole time. “Even just for the intellectual stimulation if nothing else.”

“Go fuck yourself, Flynn. I’m not willingly walking into the Lion’s den.”

Flynn’s eyelids fell half over his eyes. “It is less dignified to be dragged, Hero, but if you insist.”

Flynn made a grab for Hero’s arm but they dodged at the last minute, turning to shoulder Flynn out of the way. Flynn didn’t so much as budge from their spot. Instead he caught Hero by the strap of their scabbard and yanked them into Flynn’s chest.

“The hard way, wonderful. I wouldn’t expect any less of you Hero,” Flynn said, wrapping an arm over Hero's chest and keeping them close as they stepped out of the cell, pushing Hero forward with their own body weight. “Let's go introduce you to Supervillain.”

*~*~*~*~*

The Orphanage, or, the tag-list: @princess-bubble-blossom @morning-star-whump

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rmhashauthor · 1 year

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More Dreck!

Found another one! The last date on this one is from December of 2021, and it was hidden among a massive file of just random paragraphs. I should probably try to organize these things in some way... Kind of surprised at how dark this one was.

TW: mentions of SA

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Lea cowered against the wall as soon as the door shut behind the big alien, and she quailed as the lock engaged behind him. He'd said to the others, “This one's mine,” and Lea could only imagine the horrific and painful things he would do to her in short order. There was no way out of this room – obviously his stateroom by the sleeping cabinet against one wall, storage shelves above, and folding desk against another wall – and he was far too big for her to overpower. I'm going to die, she thought as fat tears rolled down her cheeks, I'm going to die in this cold room all alone, a billion miles from home, and no one will know what happened to me. She was too scared and exhausted to scream, so she cried. Big, braying sobs hitched and lurched out of her mouth while snot ran from her nose in long clear strings. At least I'll be gross, she consoled herself.

When the big alien male didn't immediately grab her, Lea crumpled to the cold metal floor and covered her head with her hands, burying her fingers in her hair. She heard fabric moving, then slumping in a heap on the floor. Here it comes. Clamping her eyes shut she steeled herself against the pain – she wouldn't look, wouldn't watch what happened to her just before she was ripped apart by god-only-knows what kind of terrifying alien genitals these things had. She only hoped it would be quick.

“Would you shut up?” the thing demanded, “You're fucking loud, it's irritating.” Lea only cried harder. Maybe if he got angry he would knock her out and she could be unconscious as she bled to death. That sounded nice. I don't want to die, I don't want to die, please, I don't want to die- She felt one of those hard-knuckled hands grab at her arm and she screamed as she was pulled to her feet. “NOOOOO!”

“Shut up!” the alien snarled, “I'm not going to do anything to you.” Another hand took her other arm and straightened her, pushing her shoulders up and her back against the wall. Sobbing, Lea turned her head away when she felt his breath against her face. “Just kill me and get it over with! Please, make it quick!”

“I'm not going to make anything quick,” he snarled, “because I'm not going to do anything. Are you deaf or stupid? Can you understand me?” One of his hands left her arm and settled on top of her head, clawed fingers tangling in her hair, and it twisted so Lea had to look at him. “Answer me.” Like the rest he was ugly as hell, terrifying to look at – a reptilian thing of grotesque horror, a bony-plated face with scaled lips that drew back from enormous fangs and other assorted pointed teeth. He'd taken off his jumpsuit or coveralls or whatever they were, his pale body bent and curved in all the wrong ways. Standing on two bent legs with a thick lizard tail propped on the floor behind him, he towered over Lea's five-foot-seven. If he straightened he'd easily be seven and a half feet tall. From beneath heavy, knobbed brows like cliff faces two deep red eyes with black slit pupils squinted at her, cruelly narrowed. He gripped her hair tighter and Lea cried out. “Do you understand me or not?”

Sniffling, Lea's lips quivered as she nodded.

“There, was that so fucking hard?” The alien released her hair and his hand went back to her arm. He continued to glare at her, a series of slits opening in two vertical rows between his eyes from his brows nearly to his mouth. The slits seemed to open and close in time with the swelling and contracting of his chest – these must have been nostrils or gills. “What's your name?”

Quivering from fear, exhaustion, lack of sleep and want of food, she answered. “L-Lea. P-please, don't hurt me.”

“I'm not going to,” he said, his top lip curling away from his teeth. “My men, on the other hand... You're lucky I claimed you, otherwise you'd be bleeding from every hole you were born with plus some new ones.” His lip curled in a different way now, the corners of his horrific mouth drawing back an impossible distance until it seemed as though the top of his head would hinge backwards and open like a ballistics tube. “You can relax, I don't care for rape. I pay for sex like a civilized person.”

Lea shivered, cold and terrified. Shock had numbed her hands and feet – if this thing wasn't holding her upright Lea was sure she would collapse. “What...what are you going to do to me? Are you going to eat me?”

“Should I? Do you taste good?”

“N-no...”

“Then why the fuck do you keep bringing it up?”

Lea began to cry again. It was the only thing she could do. “I-I don't know...”

“Oh for – don't start that shit again!” The alien gave her a shake. “Stop it, you're not a child. At least I don't think you are.” He looked down at her body and Lea cringed, twisting away. She could feel his eyes on her breasts, and somehow that felt worse than having his crewmates' hands all over her. “You're a mammal, aren't you? You look like one, you've got hair all over.” He leaned in and those weird slits opened. “You smell like a mammal. And fear – you stink of fear. When was the last time you had a bath?”

“I-”

“Never mind. You stink now, so you're getting a bath. Come on,” the alien gathered Lea's arms in front of her, crossing her wrists and clamping one bony fist around them. He dragged her across the stateroom to an open closet. “Do you know what a shower is?” Lea nodded. “Good, clean yourself up. Do a good job, and I'll find you some clothes and something to eat.” With a bizarrely graceful twist, he flung Lea into the closet – once her feet hit the floor of it a series of lights came on and something beeped. A yellow laser pointed a dot at her skin and after a moment it flickered green. The ceiling began to drip comfortably warm water down onto Lea's naked body before turning into a steady shower.

Confused, Lea stared at the alien as it turned away and began to rummage through a different closet, pulling out pieces of fabric and tossing them on the floor. The warm water increased in temperature, light steam rolling up around her, and the heat gradually subsided her trembling. On the wall a display lit up and prompted Lea to select something. A burst of spray shot out of the wall and covered her with a gritty substance that smelled of...nutmeg? The water hit the stuff and began to foam, the nutmeg smell intensifying.

“You're supposed to rub that on your skin,” the alien instructed. Lea began to rub her hands all over her body, realizing that she was now covered in a tingly, warming, slightly foaming kind of soap. The sandy texture acted as an exfoliant and the dirt, sweat and dried blood began to rinse away. She rubbed more of it in her hair, washing away the oil and grease and working at the knots with her fingers. Her body moved on autopilot, going through the motions of washing because it was familiar. She washed several times, not because she needed to but because the process was comforting, something she recognized after days of being held captive and subjected to unfamiliar horrors. If she turned her back to the opening she could stare at the wall instead of the hideous – and yet weirdly benevolent – monster that claimed to not be a rapist. What does he want? One would think that by making her clean up he was going to do something with her, but so far he denied both of the more horrible possible outcomes. What other purpose would he have for taking her away from his crewmates, rifling through his closets for clothes, and making her wash herself?

“Here,” he thumped down a stack of fabric items on the floor, along with a large square of cloth. “When you're done, dry off and pick something. I don't care what you choose, just don't get everything wet.” He stood there, bony hands flexing.

Lea snatched at the large cloth and rubbed herself down. The cloth absorbed every drop of water from her skin and hair, and to her surprise Lea felt better. Whatever was in the foamy soap-stuff left a warm sensation on her skin, and in the cold room it felt much nicer. She pulled on the first two pieces she saw – a shapeless shift and poorly-fitting leggings – and stepped back from the pile. “You done?” he asked, and Lea nodded. “Fine. This pile is yours now,” he indicated the stuff on the floor, “along with the drying cloth. Use it whenever you want. I cleared a spot out on that shelf,” he pointed at a cubbyhole beside the shower cubicle, “keep your stuff in there. Notice how I keep my room clean? I expect the same from you. You said your name was Lea?”

Lea nodded. His rapid-fire speech left her too stunned to reply, that and the shock of what she'd endured and just barely managed to escape. At this point Lea felt nearly catatonic.

“Call me Taun. I have other names, but that's the only one you should call me. Obviously this is my ship, my crew, my room. You'll be staying in here where I can keep an eye on you and keep my men away from you. Do not leave this room unless I'm with you, understand? There's not much I can do to stop them once they've got hold of you, except maybe put you out of your misery, so don't let it get to that point. As far as what I'm going to do with you, I haven't decided. Do you have any skills?”

“Uh...” Lea swallowed. “I-I trained as a comm spec, but I can do o-other stuff.”

“You're literate, that's good. I'll bring you some manuals and you can start learning my ship's systems. What else? Speak any languages besides CommEng? Dreen? Drass? How about Juun?”

Lea nodded again. “Drass, Dreen, Rhaksa, a-and I have a Nuani-made receiver.” She answered robotically, still confused and tired. “I know five programming languages – basic, binary, Dreen basic, U-code and Scripto.”

The alien – Taun – gave her a look that might be interpreted as appraising. “Programming languages, eh? Well then, you might be more useful than I thought. See that terminal?” He pointed at a wide screen embedded in the wall. “That runs everything you said but U-code, I can patch you into the rest of the ship from there. I may have a job for you after all.” He patted her on the arm and Lea's skin crawled. “Come on, let's find you something to eat.”

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

So yeah, that could've gone way worse for Lea. Fortunately it didn't, because I don't do that with my writing. Close calls, perhaps, but I have a rule against writing SA as a plot device. The world is already tough on women, I don't see a reason to emphasize it.

Anyway, a few of you seemed to like the other things I posted so I went looking for more! And I did get the message that the one with Ashir was kind of popular, maybe I can do something with that.

#aliens #scifi #science fiction #original fiction #fiction #flash fiction #short story #sci fi writing #creative writing #writing #original character #oc stuff #random scenes in my head #dreck #orphan writing

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yuwigqi · 2 months

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HC an actual real forensic psychologist interviews Joker, and realizes he does not meet the legal requirements for being mentally unfit to stand trial (TRUE), and the jury finds he does not meet the requirements for criminal insanity (TRUE) and he is sentenced to death and just like actually successfully executed by Belle Reve Penitentiary.

Batman's official statement "I do not kill. However, I do not give formal statements in political issues, such as the death penalty. If Joker escapes, I will send him back to Belle Reve, regardless of whatever sentencing he receives. I am a Vanguard. I am not a New Jersey Apex Court Justice. Sentencing is outside my jurisdiction or personal interests. Thank you."

Orphan's statement is "I believe wholeheartedly in the sanctity of life. However, I am not opposed to euthanasia."

Red Hood gets hired as a literal Seasonal Summer Worker for Belle Reve, and stands guard.

Barbara Gordon gets hired as Belle Reve Archivist.

Duke Thomas speaks publicly about the Justice System's constant ignorance of the realities of Mental Illness, and the pathologization of acts of violence as mental illness, as well as how white men are frequently given passes for violence by the justice system.

The Joker is executed on April 1st. He is cremated, and his ashes are used in compost alongside goat and pig manure.

Dr. Harleen Quinzel is tried as well, and actually found criminally insane, and after 1 year in psychiatric hospital, and triweekly therapy, she has shown proof of improvement and rehabilitation, 2 years after that, her licensure is reinstated. Instead of going into patient practice, she does psychiatric research, and publishes several papers on the interactions of PTSD and psychotic disorders, as well as developing counseling treatments for domestic abuse and cult survivors.

"Jokes on You Day" becomes a national holiday.

#The Joker #Harley Quinn #Duke Thomas #Signal #Jason Todd #Red Hood #Bruce Wayne #Batman #Batfam #Cassandra Cain #Orphan #Black Bat #Barbara Gordon #Oracle #Genuinely long considered writing a fic on this #But I really do not want to write that much Joker dialogue lol

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movedtodykedvonte · 10 months

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*Spidey and the Sinister Six having their usual fight*

Doc Ock, landing a hit: You’re getting slow Spider-Man! Age finally catching up to you?

Spider-Man: You wish! I haven’t even hit my 30s! From those costumes I can already tell I failed to save you guys from those midlife crises! Sorry by the way.

Vulture: Watch it wallcr- wait… Did you just say your not in your thirties yet?

Spider-Man: Surprised that this spiders so young and spry? Well-

Electro: Dude I’ve been fighting you for at least 5 fucking years! How old even are you?

Shocker, joking cause he’s the only one who picked up no grown adult acts likes Spidey: Don’t swear in-front of the boy you don’t want him to pick it up.

Rhino: Christ! You’re tellin me I almost crushed some 12-year-olds skull all those years ago?

Spider-Man, regretting his quipping: I was not that young! Like just starting freshman year but-

Sandman, horrified as he’s the only one with a kid and dad instincts(as of my iteration): I could’ve killed a kid…

Shocker, genuinely curious: Are you even old enough to drink? Cruel to kill a man who ain’t had his first drink yet.

Electro: Please tell us you’re at least over 25 as of this fight. Hell, I’ll take over 21!

Spider-Man:….

Sandman, realizing just how young he really is: Oh my god.

Spider-Man: My birthday’s coming up soon so I guess it counts?

Doc Ock, exacerbated: It. Does. Not!

Vulture: What would your mother think if she knew her son was out here risking his life telling poorly constructed jokes?

Spider-Man, offended cause it quips slap: 1. My jokes are great 2. She and my dad are dead so-

Sandman, hysterical cause holy shit he almost killed a kid orphan: OH MY GOD!

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ktkat99 · 1 year

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Angst/humor fic idea, if you need a prompt:

Bruce finds out the hard way which of his kids is okay with the 'unadoption' joke threats he makes when they annoy or stress him out. "Why did I adopt you?"..."I still have your adoption certificate. I wonder if the orphanage accepts returns?"..."I knew I should have left you on that street corner where I found you."

Dick fires back with twice as much sass, sometimes rolling his eyes and flipping off Bruce when he gets older.

Young!Jason looks so scared the first time he hears one, and Bruce never jokes about it again. Adult!Jason makes jokes about unadopting himself.

Tim is far too tired to register that it was a joke and gets quiet and avoids Bruce completely for the rest of the week until Bruce realizes what he did wrong and tracks his son down. They talk and Bruce never implies regretting to adopt Tim again.

Cass laughs along with him before pulling out her adoption certificate from her pocket and grinning, scaring him. His kids's adoption paperwork was all stored in a hidden, impenetrable, designed-by-Batman safe. Laughter fades and she just whispers "You'll never be rid of me."

Bruce- Maybe Talia wants you back.

Damian, not even phased- And maybe Alfred would have rather been working for a doctor than a clown-hating, nocturnal, combat furry, but I guess we're both out here disappointing our parents.

#batman #tim drake #dick grayson #jason todd #red robin #nightwing #red hood #damian wayne #robin #cassandra cain #orphan #batfam incorrect quotes #batfam #batfamily #angst #humor #fic ideas #writing prompts

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ashersanity · 5 months

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Know some people have already done this, but I just had to jump in on the train cuz I’m a sucker for yanderes, especially fem ones, like yeah, please tie me up in your fucking basement and call me your boy. I will instantly melt on the spot.

LI’s as YANDERES

asher style, of course.

you already know the drill, there’s gon be loads of cw! for this one since it’s fucking YANDERES!

content warning! dub-con at best, non-con at worst, manipulation, typical gaslighting, abusive and possessive behaviour, mentions of violence, it gets bloody too, knife play, stalking, somniphilia, y’know, all that yandere shit.

pc and LI’s are gender neutral as always unless explicitly stated otherwise. still included kylar, some of these are soft and cute, some of these are just straight up gross.

this is long. i hope you like long things.. that sounded wrong.

Robin

“I-I’m your first? You saved yourself for me?? Hah, I don’t deserve something so special. Thank you..”

yandere type : two-faced, manipulative, overprotective

Doesn’t show it, trained smile on their face whenever Kylar slots in between the two of you at the cafeteria even if Robin is internally holding themselves back from reaching behind the freak and pulling you in closer instead. Just know that if you kiss Kylar in front of them in that one scene, they’re not running away in tears, they’re internally seething and rushing to the bathroom to calm themselves down unless they wanna accidentally break the loner’s face like Whitney did. (Yeah, Robin is violent under extreme circumstances. Saw that damn brothel scene? Yandere! Robin is even worse)

Gives you the impression of someone cheerful and kind, always well-intentioned since they want the best for you after all! You don’t even get to see the way their eyes flicker and narrow behind your back, holding themselves back each and every time they see you with either Whitney, Kylar or Sydney. Would absolutely lose their shit if they knew the things you do with Bailey in their office in return for an extra day before payment is due.

Breath shaky as they stare at your lips touching the cup, sipping at their homemade lemonade, not even noticing their eyes drilling a hole right into your pretty face. Quickly claims they need to go to high street to get some more ice, all the while bringing the cup you just used with them. Locking themselves in one of the stall in the changing rooms, licking and sucking at the humid lip stains you left on the glass, free hand busy between their legs.

Robin really can’t help themselves around you, sneaking into your room at night, quiet footsteps tiptoeing to your bed, watching your peaceful face, fast asleep. Trailing a finger over your lips, utterly entranced. Started with quick kiss to your neck, collarbone, lips. Now they’re touching themselves to you, hands in their pajama bottoms, soft, wet noises of the orphan‘s genitals being stroked. High confidence!Robin doesn’t hesitate to cum/messily squirt all over you, smearing the fluids across your lips before sealing it with a kiss. Makes sure to clean it up after though, can’t ruin their perfect, innocent image!

Voluntarily puts themselves in dangerous situations, wether it be through Bailey’s punishments, off to the docks or something as simple as getting picked on at the cafeteria. They know you’ll come for them, save and protect them from the danger, won’t you? You always do, you’re their savior, Robin’s protector.. And for that, they’ll never let you go.

Whitney

“..Let me remind you who fucking owns you. Cmon, I want to hear you squeal, bitch!”

yandere type : sadistic, possessive, impulsive

Didn’t even mean to get that attached to you in the first place, but when they saw the way your lips would curl up into that fucking smile, chatting away with Robin at lunch or the stupid freak— Dammit, it’s like Whitney snapped, forcing you to sit at their table, comfortably seated on their lap with their cronies surrounding you. Looks like you’re eating lunch with the bully forever from now on. You don’t got a choice in the matter, slut.

Don’t even try to fight back against them too, you’ll just rile the delinquent up further, visible outline of their hard cock/wet pussy in their pants/beneath their long school skirt as you kick at their stomach, only for them to grasp at your wrists and pin you down. If you do win the fight by pure chance or strength, just know they’re running off to the bathroom to jerk/finger themselves silly, using your own blood as lube (haha, hot.) Licks away at the bloodied mess you left on their knuckles too, smearing it across their lips to savor. they do that little finger sucking thing at the end to really get all that blood inside their system.

Oh? Whitney catches one of their friend hitting you/trying to get a taste of you? They’re not the only one getting punished, you’re getting punished too, bitch. Your fault for being so tempting around others and they’ll make it your own fucking problem. Don’t even try to worm yourself out of it cuz they’ll be waiting at the school gates, dark look on their face, bloodied sneakers from dealing with that one friend that didn’t listen. Expect the roughest anal fucking of your life along with having their cock/strap-on deep down your throat. Even better if you have a dick, you’re getting both, cock/strap-on up your ass and yours in their own, milking you dry for all you’re worth.

Will force a collar around your neck along with a leash that they pull at during sex. Better than your shitty hair since it leaves bruises right on that tender skin they like to sink their fangs into, dragging you around for the whole town to see. Publicly fucks you at the park with nothing but the collar on, telling you to take it well, show everyone what a whore you are for them. Enjoys inflicting pain on you through biting, marking or spanking, relishes in the pained sounds that come out of your mouth. Loudly refers to you as their pet, wants everyone to know you personally as “Whitney’s pet” first and foremost before even knowing your damn name.

Purposely marks you in every way possible that they can think of, leaving hickeys and bite marks over your neck and thighs, making sure your collar is just a tad bit open to expose the bruised skin underneath. Shit, they’ll tattoo their goddamn name right on your chest, rough hand beneath your shirt, tracing the lettering of their own name with a satisfied smirk on their face. Now everyone will know that you belong to them, Whitney’s property, their slut.

Kylar

“M-My love! We were meant for each other all along! IloveyouIloveyouIloveyou!”

yandere type : obsessive, clingy, delusional

Already has a shrine ready for you, dedicated to their one and only beloved, hell, they even went to the tailor to get the perfect size for your suit/dress. How does Kylar know your exact measurements?? Um, don’t ask them! It was by pure chance, just a lucky guess, of course! Maybe they did sneak in at night through the window, somehow not encountering Robin in the middle of their weird session, gliding their small hands over your sleeping form with measuring tape ready.

Goes through your closet when you’re not at the orphanage, stealing and taking in all the underwear that they can find, even goes through the dirty laundry. Yeah, your fucking dirty laundry, making sure they got everything. Now they have your own personal scent with them 24/7, rubbing the fabric of your undergarments against their sex, melding your fluids together, spits right in the middle where it connects with your crotch. Slips it inside your closet once more, hard erection/moistened cunt in their pants/skirt once they force you to wear it, their saliva touching your genitals.

Just as Whitney likes to mark their property, so does Kylar, tracing the silver over your tender flesh, ready to sink in and draw blood, carve their name right where it should be. Maybe they do it while you’re sleeping even! Awakening to a nice, old surprise of your beloved darling’s name etched into your skin, dry blood cleanly licked away, lapped up by the loner’s tongue. Now, no pervert or whore shall try a thing unless you want a dead corpse at your feet, Kylar’s proud smile and expectant gaze on you. Like a cat that killed its prey for its master.

Why did you wake up all sweaty and warm..? Um, don’t ask Kylar, they wouldn’t know! Not like they slip in beneath the covers with you at night, lowering themselves down to your hips before pulling down the waistband of your pajamas unless you’re sleeping naked? In this town? Either way, they’re burying their face in your crotch, messily slurping and sucking away at your genitals, relishing in the taste of your flesh in their mouth. Does a show of swallowing it all, moving their pink tongue across your parted lips and slipping in.

Remember how you sent them to prison? Yeah? Thought it was over and everything, huh? Kylar now forever gone from your life, not having to deal with that persistent freak anymore, that was the plan.. Obviously fucking not, a disheveled looking Kylar breaking into your room in the middle of the night, still in their prison uniform, dark fringe over their eyes, unable to hide the maddened lust in them. Idiot, you really thought you could get rid of them?? No, of course not! Kylar is here to stay, stay forever and they’ll make sure you know you’re theirs, fucking your face into the mattress with their fat cock/strap-on, imprinting themselves into your skin. You’re theirs now. Forever.

Pure Sydney

“We.. we did it.. I’m so happy.. This means we’re bound together forever from now on.. right?”

yandere type : harmless?, worshipping, overprotective

Harmless? Well, not exactly, Sydney doesn’t even know themselves about their own behaviour, eyes framed behind glasses, always glancing back at the library entrance and waiting for your arrival. After all, they love to see your face in the morning, it brightens up their day, puts a smile on their face, humming a tune to themselves. Maybe they do clutch at the pages of the book they’re holding a little too hard if they see you sit at Kylar’s table instead.. Sinking feeling in their pit of the stomach, clenching teeth. Snaps out of it, confused as to why.

Solely believes that you’re an angel, someone gifted by God, fallen from heaven. You’re perfect after all! Devoid of flaws and if there are some, they’re unable to see it, lovingly gazing at your praying face at the temple in a tender manner. If someone proves otherwise, like those filthy edited pictures they find of you sometimes, they brush it off, it can’t be true. You’re perfect. Utterly perfect, only deserving of the purest of people and Sydney is ready to fill that role, they’re the only ones worthy of it after all!

Absolutely snaps if they ever see a temple initiate or nun’s wandering hand reaching for your behind, smacks it away, red in the face. Now they’re creating a scene right in front of you, shouting and reprimanding the other for that, but no, it isn’t enough for Sydney, honestly. Willing to lie if it’s for you, obviously you didn’t ask for it, you never did, though they’re still going to Jordan, demanding punishment on the filthy sinner for having laid their hands on you. No sick bastard or bitch should ever look your way, only Sydney.

Asks a few too many questions to Sirris about you, the science teacher already picking up on their little crush, teasing poor little Syd about it and they’re blushing furiously now, completely denying it. God, they really should’ve never brought it up, yet they can’t help themselves, constantly asking about you to their parent, wondering how you’re doing in class.. Are there any students harassing you..? In the library? In the hallways? Has Whitney set their sights on you? Don’t worry, Sydney will take care of them. just involves them tattle-telling to Leighton pft

Maybe they do let you quietly drag them to the prayer room, knowing they shouldn’t, but it’s you, you that they can’t deny, never could. Maybe they do reciprocate the kiss, amber eyes fluttering shut, arms keeping you in their grasp. This must be a dream, must be and it isn’t. Pasts the point of no return, breaking their chasity vow for you and you only. Is exhilarated once they find out that you were also a virgin, meaning you both shared this special moment together with them. Now you’re bound to each other! As one.

Corrupted Sydney

“You did it. You defiled me at last. We belong to each other, now and forever!”

yandere type : worshipping, manipulative, overprotective

Much more self-aware in their behaviour now that you’ve opened up their eyes to sin and lust, and y’know what? Do they feel shameful? Absolutely not, they’re not praying to damn anything, not begging for salvation because it’s only right for a lover to be protective over their darling, hm? At least, they use that as an excuse to mark your skin as theirs, purposely leaving their name or cheesy pet names on your forearms or neck, rolled up sleeve or unbuttoned collar to show off their masterpiece to other students.

A lot more assertive and teasing with Kylar. Their childhood friend wants to play that game? Sure, they can do the same, casually swinging an arm over your shoulder, pulling you in closer. Watching on with a smirk on their face as the loner silently seethes into their seat, shooting them a cold glare. Sydney’s obviously undeterred, even going so far as to pull you into a kiss right in front of the other. Yeah, they’re fucking petty like that, eyeing up the freak’s expression as it slowly morphs from one of disbelief to horror. Doesn’t even feel bad if Kylar scurries away in tears, you’re theirs after all, aren’t you? It’s only their right to prove it so.

Amber eyes darkening as they see you with a customer at the sex shop, shamelessly flirting with you at the counter. Quickly pulls you aside, calling out to their parent that you and them are taking a short break. The short break? Involves punishment and marking, if that pesky shit doesn’t understand that you belong to Sydney then they’ll make sure to be more direct about it, tying you up, ball gag in your mouth, uselessly drooling away. Now you’re bent over on their lap, spanking your reddened bum, each slap for every pervert that eyed you up at work. Makes sure you’re left to limp back at the counter, ass stinging and burning, hoping you learnt your lesson.

By god, do not ever break your vow and let the temple find out, Sydney will know, will know that it’s not them. The temple’s punishment on its own won’t be enough, no, they’re also personally making sure you’re never touched by anyone else, but them ever again. Face pressed up against the wooden wall, forced in this uncomfortable position in the tight confines of the confessionary, hissed breath telling you to shut up while they fuck you with their cock/strap-on or riding your cock. Genuinely wants to hear a few slip ups on your part, clueless initiate coming in to confess their sins, a grin across Sydney’s pretty features as they listen to your hitched breaths, struggling to speak.

That one scene where they’re slowly trailing their red marker up your arm, pausing upon seeing Whitney’s tattoo on your shoulder, simply frowning and turning away. Yeah? Yandere! Sydney isn’t just frowning, no, they’re fucking pissed, a scowl creeping up to their face, asking you what the fuck that’s doing there. Stuttering back a reply, unsure how to respond to that. How exactly are you supposed to explain your bully’s name permanently etched into your flesh? Palm placed on your head, pushing you down, making sure the librarian isn’t nearby to see. Now you better be begging for forgiveness on your knees, mouth busy pleasuring their sex with tears pricking at the corner of your eyes, threatening to spill over your flushed cheeks. Filthy sinner, this will be the only time Sydney’s ever visiting Harper for a tattoo removal.

Masterlist

Now I wanna see Yandere! Whitney vs Yan! C!Syd.

Who wins? My bets are on Syd because I fucking said so. The bully would be way too hot-headed, gets provoked too easily whereas the other is able to keep their cool, a bit more than Whitney. Plus Syd has the advantage of being a shameless masochist, would probably be moaning if they get punched, catching the delinquent off guard.

Coming up next, Yandere! Whitney specifically.

yandere! whitney

yandere! harper

yandere! bailey

yandere! shady bastards

yandere! remy

also thanks to @saint700 for the whitney line, it goes hard, hard like my c—

[END OF POST]

#sydney rocks whitneys shit #easily solos them in a 1v1 #dol #degrees of lewdity #robin the orphan #whitney the bully #kylar the loner #sydney the faithful #sydney the fallen #yandere #yandere x reader #yandere x you #asher writes

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theidealistcynic · 2 months

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Honestly, what's so hard about writing living parents? It's not that hard, I do it all the- *pauses* Er, hold that thought.

*Counts the number of parental figures in my WIP*

*Counts how many of them are actually parents*

*Counts how many of them are still alive*

I've done it!

Once.

#writing #writeblr #fiction #writers #characters #fantasy #creative writing #writer #writing problems #character death #parental character death #orphaned characters

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poorly-drawn-mdzs · 10 months

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You're mine now, old man.

[First] Prev <–-> Next

#poorly drawn mdzs #mdzs #wei wuxian #a-qing #xiao xingchen #A-qing's story kicks off so strong. You really get a sense that she feels strongly attached to xxc during the pre-empathy scenes #and that she has a strong sense of loyalty and perseverance with strong survival instinct #but then you see her before all the tragedy and you *immediately* learn she is a clever trickster!#She follows xxc not out of gratitude but out of a sense that this guy is her meal ticket.#xxc is kind and strong but most importantly *noble*#she can smell the self-sacrificing bright eyed hope on this stranger. She knows the mere fact she's a young blind girl means #he will protect her. The fact he gives her a little money doesn't hurt her justification but tbh she would have followed all the same #a-qing is *the* catgirl of all time actually. Follows you for the fact you provide food and shelter. Opportunistic. May grow to be loyal.#That's not even getting into the parallels here between these two characters and wwx (who is seeing these events play out)#the yi city trio are arguably the three split aspects of wwx: who he feels like (a-qing the opportunist) who he wants to be (xxc the noble)#and who he feels seen as (xy the vengeful).#one day I'll write a more robust analysis on that. prob in the tags though #(His a-qing parallels are also tied with the fact they both were street rat orphans who learned how to code-switch to be whoever #they need to be to feel safe. I have a lot more thoughts to share but augh another time...another time)

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softmangoes · 29 days

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you, the LIs, and a bundle of rope

18+ only

pure! sydney is intrigued. "is this what you needed help with?" he chuckles softly, his golden eyes are so warm, so honey-sweet. you want to drink him, have him melt onto your tongue like communion. when you tug on his chest harness to take his bottom lip between your teeth, he mewls against your mouth.

corrupt! sydney is ecstatic. "beloved," he purrs, his limbs ensared by the rope you carefully wove around him. a bead of drool glistens in the corner of his mouth as the vibrator hums inside of him. "why don't you come a little closer?" his tongue, wet and pink, traces his lips. there's hunger in his eyes. "it's been too long since i've tasted you."

whitney fights you. "fucking freak," he spits, struggling to free himself. you knew he would be difficult and you certainly have a few more bruises. and yet, you can't help but admit that he looks so cute all helpless like that, fury twisting his flushed face. his protests quiet once you take him into your mouth, his snarls turning into nothing more than breathy huffs.

there's a glazed look in kylar's eyes. "m-my love?" he stutters, straining against the rope constricting his arms. tears begin to well in his eyes. you are so far. too far. can't you see that he needs you? why can't you hold him? it's only when you straddle him and take him inside that he finds his breath, planting desperate kisses along your chest as you fuck him into a whimpering mess.

"you thought this would work?" eden scoffs, breaking free with ease. he's on you before you can even realize it, tying your wrists to the bedpost with the practiced grace of years of trapping prey. his breath is hot on your neck, his teeth sharp. "it'll take a lot more than that to keep me from you," he growls, taking ahold of your hips before thrusting into you.

robin laughs. "i didn't know you were into this stuff," he says. you trail your fingers along his skin, grazing the knots across his chest. his breath hitches as you reach between his thighs, his length twitching against the warmth of your palm. he licks his lips, nervous. a blush spreads across his face. "you'll be gentle with me...right?"

"you think that can bind me?" the wraith croons curiously, the rope phasing through him. a cool tentacle wraps around you, pulling you into his embrace. fingers slip under your shirt as his tendrils caress your thighs. they sink into you while a pair of luminescent eyes train on you, amused. his gaze is depthless and full of a desire you cannot begin to fathom. the tentacle curls within you, making you moan against his neck. "we are already bound, droplet."

#degrees of lewdity #dol fic #sydney the faithful #sydney the fallen #whitney the bully #kylar the loner #robin the orphan #eden the hunter #ivory wraith #i wanted to try something different and for the past week i've been thinking about shibari lol #this was written with a defiant!pc in mind #i added ivory because i love them and they're so pretty ugh #my writing

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comedi-anne · 7 months

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I'm feeling self-indulgent, so here's some DOL headcanons about the Lis taking care of you when you're sick.

Kylar -Oh he's on cloud 9. You're so helpless! -You HAVE to stay in bed, so you're easy to find! And watch. :3c -Please just sit back and let him take care of you. <3 -Which he does… to the best of his ability… -But he kinda gets sidetracked and pervy. -Like he'll make you a lovely soup, but there's a special ingredient in there you probably wouldn't want to consume if you knew it was in there. -Or he'll tuck you in for a nice nap, but you have a hazy fever dream of someone straddling you and panting. -Gosh, you woke up so "sweaty" your skin feels sticky… -He lets you cuddle with his stuffed animals to make you feel better. -It's honestly quite sweet. Those toys were a great comfort to him at one point… -After his parents turned, he didn't have anyone to take care of him when he was sick. -So he'd hug his toys to feel some level of comfort. He hopes they do the same for you. -Although he would prefer you cuddle him. -Because he gets way too up close and personal, he catches whatever bug you've gotten. -He expects to be nurtured and attended to just as he did for you.

Whitney -He does not want to get sick. -Fuck you for getting sick and putting him at risk. -Cuz he can't just leave you like this… -I mean, how's he gonna have fun if his favorite slut up and dies on him cuz of some weak-ass common cold? -So he takes care of you. "Begrudgingly." -He wears a mask the entire time. -He refuses to get too close to you. -Honestly, he mostly just drops ramen soup and cold medicine in a bag before leaving you to your own devices. -But he's always popping in to check up on you. -He'll peek his head through the door to see if you're doing any better. -Sometimes he'll gently press his palm against your forehead to check your temperature. -If it's too high, he'll get a worried look on his face. -He'll remind you to take your fucking medicine so you don't boil in your own skin. -He misses you.

Robin -Oh Robin is both horribly underprepared and the most equipped to deal with you being sick. -You've known each other your entire lives. Of course he knows how to take care of you. -But you take care of him… That's the arrangement, right? -The longer you stay in bed, the less time you have to make money for the both of you. -He shudders to think what will be done to you when you're too weak to fight back. -He panics thinking about what will be done to him. -He tries to balance his time between tending to you and tending to his lemonade stand. -He needs to work extra hard to make sure you both have enough money at the end of the week. He knows you have something saved up, but he doesn't know if it's enough. -But the more he works, the more you're alone. And you're so helpless like this. -It's a constant mental struggle trying to prioritize what you need more. -He feels selfish for wanting you to get better, because he knows that desire is partly motivated by his need for you to support him. -He plays video games beside you to try to keep your mind off your illness. -You fall asleep to it as background noise. -He likes watching you sleep. -When you're awake, he can all too often see the anguish on your face. -Sleep is the only place you're free. -He hopes you have good dreams.

Eden -He hates being sick. -Living alone in the woods means there's no one to take care of you when you're sick. -It doesn't matter if you feel like shit, if you don't keep up with your chores it could mean the difference in surviving or not. -…But that's living alone in the woods. -Now he has company. -He'll be a little more lenient with you. -He'll try to cook meals, so you don't get your germs in the food. -He'll let you bathe separately, but he still insists on washing you. -He makes an extra trip into town so he can buy you some medicine. -He'll try to be extra quiet. -He's already not much of a talker, but he'll the sounds around the cabin to a minimum. -He knows congestion can cause sinus headaches, and he doesn't want you to be in any more discomfort than you already are. -He reads silently, but he still wants to sit beside you. -He likes patting your head as you head it in his lap, so he still feels like your little nightly ritual continues even in your illness. -He doesn't wait for you to fully get better before putting you back to work. -Once your fever breaks it's back to keeping him company.

Avery -This is quite an inconvenience for him. -You had to miss your date, because you fell ill, and he looked like a fool waiting for you to show up. -When he sees you around town one day, he pulls over to yell at you. -But you look like SHIT. He can immediately tell you've come down with something. -He's still pissed, but he kinda understands… -He offers to drive you to the doctor. -He stays in the waiting room while you have your appointment. -You're honestly surprised to see him still there when you leave. -He says not to make a big deal out of it. -He can't have his arm candy looking half-dead. -Even if you are sick, looking that ragged is bad for his reputation. -He drives you home, but he doesn't drive you back to the orphanage. -He brings you to some hotel. -He knows the kind of squalor you live in. Being in that filth can't help your recovery time. -He pays for you to have a room for a few days. -Room service brings you your meals. -He calls you every day to make sure you're resting and taking your medicine. -He'll know if you're lying. -When you're better, he expects his kindness to be paid back in droves.

Sydney -He'll make sure to pray for your health from now on when he visits the temple. -He makes sure you're still eating and drinking plenty of fluids! -You can't get better if you don't give your body fuel to fight off the illness. -He likes taking care of you… -Your face is so flushed due to the fever. -Your nose is clogged up due to the mucus, so you have to pant and breathe through your mouth. -He watches your chest rise and fall with labored breaths. -…He tries to ignore that sight. -But you make it rather difficult. -The way you weakly reach out for him, the way you call out his name so soft and weak… -You really need him, don't you? -He's taking care of you because he cares. -Not for any ulterior motive. -Not for any joy on the power he has over you. -He'd never use that power to harm you after all. He's a good boy. -…But the fact he could do something, well, maybe he thinks about the possibilities a little too much. -He's happy when you're feeling better. -He misses seeing you so weak before him.

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chaotic-orphan · 5 months

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Defiant Leader x Confident Villain: Part 4

Read Part one here

Continued from this part here

Honestly I have found so many good series parts in my drafts that just needs cleaning up with a light edit and boom, more content- it's great!

I am just ignoring my Christmas assignments and exams because who needs a degree, am I right? Enjoy!

TW: intimate whumper (ish), torture(light) and broken bones

*~*~*~*~*

Leader woke up to a finger in their cheek. They batted it away lazily, in theory.

In reality, their arms felt too stiff to move, groaning for Second to give them just five more minutes. They’d had a long fucking day, and their body was exhausted, not even accounting for the mental exertion it took to balance Villain as an enemy and not a member of their team anymore after they took them and strung them up—

Leader’s eyes shot open, but they didn’t meet Villain’s smiling face. Instead, they were met with two owlish eyes the colour of the Dead Sea, as if Leader could see through them.

Leader knew those eyes. Knew them too fucking well.

Leader evened their expression as much as they could, while Supervillain’s lips broke into an amused smile.

“So, you’re Villain’s old mentor,” Supervillain hummed, going to poke Leader in the cheek again. They were too close. Far too close to Leader’s face for comfort. Leader was tucked up against the wall, hands in the same heavy manacles Villain left them with as they drifted to a deep sleep. Their legs had moved, one bent slightly while the other was straight, and in the small bend of Leader’s leg was Supervillain’s foot.

Too close.

Leader tilted their head to the side, voice deadpan as they replied: “so you’re Villain’s new babysitter.”

“Villain said you were funny.”

“That’s funny, Villain never mentioned you,” Leader replied coolly, eyes never leaving Supervillain’s too-clear blue ones. “Mustn’t take it personally, maybe you just don’t make much of an impression.”

“Woke you all the same.”

“Yes, you did,” Leader said, then made a shooing motion with their fingers. “Now that you mention it, it was a very nice sleep, and I would like to get back to it now.”

Supervillain searched Leader’s eyes for something, then let out a soft hmph. “I have a better idea, Leader.”

Before Leader could protest a hand was in their shirt and in one fluid motion, Supervillain dragged Leader to their feet with such force Leader’s eyes blew wide, they weren’t touching the ground for a minute before their bare feet mercifully touched the floor again. Leader had a panicked grip on Supervillain’s arm holding them to the wall and only then did they notice the slight size difference.

Supervillain was tall, a good head taller than Leader, who wasn’t considered short by any means. That’s not where the differences stopped; where Leader was all lean muscle and agility, Supervillain filled their broad shoulders with strong, defined muscles that lay under his casual shirt and pungent leather jacket. Leader could make them out even when he wasn’t tensed and that annoyed more than scared them.

Leader had met Supervillain before, obviously, but this close? With this height difference? This disadvantage Villain had left them with, with no gear, no boots, no weapons. Leader didn’t like their odds. It was too new. Jarringly new and it sent a cold shiver down Leader’s spine, their mind racing on ways they could adapt to their sudden enforced weakness around their wrists and in their bare feet.

When they met on the field they were somewhat even. Supervillain was strong, stronger than Leader, but Leader made up for it with their speed. They danced in and out of one-punch-knockouts Supervillain had thrown at them before, they could do it again…

But that was in their combat gear, with their blades by their sides. That was with their boots on and their team at their back, and that was without heavy iron manacles locking their hands together.

Like this? Leader was too exposed, too weak, and they were just staring at Supervillain who could kill them without breaking a sweat right now, hiding all this panic behind an impassive expression, but they couldn’t hide that wide eyed surprise.

Supervillain had seen.

Supervillain saw Leader’s eyelids fly open in shock, so different from the half-lidded indifference Leader was trying to show off. Supervillain noticed the smallest thing, and maybe that was what was scaring Leader more than their disadvantage.

“What?” Leader asked, voice thankfully, mercifully even, “was your better idea making out or? This is very intimate Supervillain, honestly? I’m flattered. Kind of enemies to lovers scenario—”

All Supervillain had to do was curl their fingers into Leader’s shirt, knuckles resting painfully on Leader’s ribs and push Leader against the wall more. Pinned between a solid surface and Supervillain’s unforgiving grip, Leader didn’t know which would crack first, the wall or Leader’s ribs. Leader bent a knee and pressed the sole of their bare foot against the wall for leverage.

“Mmm,” Leader ground out, trying and failing to alleviate the pressure. “Kinky, don’t worry, kinda into it.”

Supervillain laughed. “You don’t shut up, do you?”

“Not unless you gag me, Da—” Supervillain let go of Leader then and Leader smiled. All doubt melting away as they pressed the sole of the foot into the solid surface, muscles tensed and at the ready.

Idiot.

Leader pushed off the wall with their foot, springing towards Supervillain, swinging their iron manacle clad hands up at Supervillain’s jaw. They missed the jaw and hit Supervillain’s nose instead and Supervillain fell back a step, letting out a startled cry, hands going to their nose in shock. Leader watched with a grin as blood trailed through the cracks in their hands and dribbled down their chin, staining their stupid shirt.

Their eyes would be blurry now, an advantage Leader needed. Leader shot their foot out, kicking Supervillain’s knee, then thigh, then ankle until they were wobbling, almost down.

One more hit.

Leader threw their hands up again as Supervillain’s eyes locked on Leader’s and Leader knew they made a mistake.

Clear blue eyes were the last thing Leader saw before the wind was knocked out of them and they were gasping for breath, Supervillain’s hand wrapped around Leader’s throat pinning them back against the wall. Leader thought they broke a rib with the impact, but they couldn’t think now, they were too busy panicking. They needed to break free.

They kicked out at Supervillain, trying to hit them anywhere until Supervillain stepped closer, making Leader’s legs useless, pinning Leader’s legs with their own and the wall, and the panic seized Leader’s chest. They were like a fish out of water, gasping on nothing. That’s when Leader brought their manacled hands down on Supervillain.

Loosen the hold for a second.

Or that’s what they intended to do.

At the last second Supervillain caught Leader’s wrist just below the cuff.

Fuck.

Supervillain slammed Leader’s arms back above their head and held them there no matter how much they writhed and struggled and fuck— black dots were encroaching on the edges of Leader’s vision like a vignette.

They couldn’t speak.

They couldn’t breathe.

They couldn’t fight.

They were going to die here. Supervillain was going to kill them and not break a sweat. Their struggles were weakening, and Leader knew they were gone, that Supervillain had won.

Would Villain be sad Supervillain killed them? Or is this what they wanted all along?

Leader was so fucking stupid and it got them killed.

At least Leader got a good few blows in before they died, at least they made Supervillain bleed, at least they went out fighting…

Those crystal-clear blue eyes stared down at Leader’s as they slowly lost consciousness and darkness engulfed them.

*~*~*~*~*

Villain was leaning against the wall beside the door to Leader’s cell, arms folded, head resting against the wall. When the door opened, Villain pushed off quickly, turning to see Supervillain with dried blood caked on their upper lip and nose, staining their shirt. Villain’s face dropped.

“What happened?”

Supervillain smiled, showing bloody teeth. “Nothing I couldn’t handle. They got rowdy, so I put them down.”

“You said you’d be gentle.”

“You said they were weak and exhausted.”

“They are!” Village protested.

Supervillain raised an eyebrow at Villain’s voice rising in pitch, a smile tugging at the corners of their mouth as Villain looked away, and said, “they were. I left them hanging for three days, I was worried their shoulders would pop out of their sockets!”

“Did you have mercy on Other Villain’s Henchman when you left them hanging? Did you worry about their shoulder joints?”

“It’s different,” Villain said, eyebrows knitting together. “We were torturing Other Villain’s Henchman for information. Leader is just a prisoner, and you have to be humane. It’s not personal, it’s—”

“Humane?” Supervillain asked and Villain sighed, running a hand down their face. “Maybe if you were a bit less humane, Vil, it would have prevented the broken nose,” said Supervillain not unkindly, voice gentle and soothing, which just made Villain feel worse. They were going easy on Leader, and Supervillain noticed.

Supervillain placed a warm hand on Villain’s shoulder, and smiled when Villain looked up at them, eyes steeled. “It won’t happen again.”

“Oh, I know, Villain… I trust you,” Supervillain said, squeezing Villain’s shoulder lightly, and Villain tried hard not to blush at the words. It didn’t work.

“I mean obviously Leader has to be punished. Not just for this,” Supervillain said gesturing to their nose, “but for doing the Commission’s dirty work for them.”

“What? But you forgave me,” said Villain, setting their jaw, lips stretched into a thin line.

“I did,” said Supervillain. “The difference is you saw the corruption they wrought. Leader is still under their influence. They need to be persuaded.”

“Why does persuasion sound a lot like punishment in this case?” Villain snapped, jutting their chin out at Supervillain who just kept that same level smile on their face. Their crystal-clear blue eyes beaming with pride down at Villain.

Supervillain stood up straighter, took their hand from Villain’s shoulder and touched their bloodied nose gently.

“You’ve done beautifully, Villain. Leader is our biggest threat to enacting meaningful change. You got them out of the way! You should be celebrating; you should be proud—”

“What about the commission?” Villain demanded hotly. “You said they were the enemy!”

“They are, Villain. Leader is but a pawn and taking them off the board will rattle the commission into making a mistake, one we can use to press our advantage.”

At Villain’s silence Supervillain sighed. “You know firsthand how corrupt they are. If capturing Leader has rattled you—”

“I’m not rattled,” Villain said, voice a bit too defensive. Villain sighed, then gestured to Supervillain’s face. “Go… go get that cleaned up, you’re bleeding all over the place.”

“Are you okay?”

“Yes,” Villain lied easily, “yes I’m fine, I’m just tired.”

“Okay. Maybe get some rest, Villain.”

“Yeah, I will.”

Supervillain nodded, then walked to the end of the hall, towards the stairs out of the basement. Villain waited until they heard the sound of the heavy door shutting before they leaned against the wall and let out a long-laboured breath.

This was all they needed.

Then they opened the door to Leader’s cell and walked in, letting it close behind them.

Supervillain watched from the shadows of the stairs, a frown finding its way onto their face. Then they turned and actually left to fix their nose.

*~*~*~*~*

When Leader woke up again, they gasped awake, desperate to get some air into their lungs as the hand on their throat— Leader blinked, and it was the biggest mistake they ever made. A thundering headache followed, and they nearly whimpered at the pain but kept silent as they took in the new room around them.

At least they were sitting down this time and didn’t have any less articles of clothes on than they did before which was a plus, although their feet were starting to feel the cold. This time Leader woke in a chair, a comfortable enough chair, their arms resting on the arms rest were tied down with reinforced leather straps that brokered no movement when Leader tried to yank their hands free. All it did was tighten the leather around Leader’s fists, crinkling like rubber, but they couldn’t complain. The leather was far more comfortable than the manacles, Leader was getting first class treatment as far as the last few days were concerned.

They longed to stretch their limbs, but as feeling slowly came back to their body they realised they couldn’t move their legs either, strapped to the legs of the chair in what felt like the same strong leather as their wrists. They let out a soft sigh and pulled at their restraints just because.

They were tired.

Exhausted.

Their head was fucking pounding because of Supervillain and his stupid need to be tall and strong and authoritative. He could have at least been kind about the strangle hold, like, oh I’m sorry Leader, here’s some paracetamol for that headache you’ll wake up with.

Leader just wanted to go home, be with their team. They should have never pursued Villain; in hindsight they should have stayed with their team and then none of this would happen.

They would have stayed on mission and not abandoned their target to pursue an obvious trap, Villain knew they would follow though, Villain wanted them to, counted on it. They wanted to show off their new reinforcements and show Leader, they didn’t need them and their team anymore. They wanted to show Leader who was stronger, and Leader’s ego made them follow.

Stupid.

There wasn’t much room for any other thoughts after that.

From behind them Leader heard movement and then they saw the hammer coming down hard, a merciless swing, straight on the back of Leader’s right hand. Leader screamed as they felt, no heard, every bone in their hand shatter. They struggled in the comfortable chair, trying to alleviate some of the pain, to get away from the aftershocks of pain as Leader tried to move their fingers.

“Do I have your attention, Leader?”

Leader howled when Supervillain drive the hammer down harder on the back of Leader’s hand, rubbing against broken and bruised bones. “Yes! YES! Just stop!”

The hammer lifted after Leader found their words and their sigh of relief ricocheted through their entire body, adrenaline pumping in their blood. They sucked in a sharp breath when Supervillain came to stand in front of them, glaring angrily up through pain blinded eyes. Their chest rising and falling like a rabbit’s that was suddenly cornered by a dog.

“Good,” Supervillain said with a smile and dropped the hammer unceremoniously on the floor. Leader flinched when it clanged against the concrete floor. Their breath still struggling to fill the hole in their lungs from the shock.

“Villain asked me to go easy on you,” said Supervillain. Leader’s heartbeat skipped at that. Villain still cared. Just not enough to get you out of here, a nasty voice in the back of Leader’s head hissed. “They think you’re just blindly following the commission’s orders, that you need to be persuaded to see the light like they did.”

“Yeah?” Leader laughed, the laugh manic, off and wrong. “And follow you, is it? I’m devoted to one dogma, Supervillain, I can’t stomach two, I’ll have to pass.”

“Why do you follow the Hero Commission’s orders, Leader? Hmm?”

“Why don’t you ask Villain?”

“I did.”

“And?”

“Villain only followed you,” Supervillain said, delighting at the pain that must have showed on Leader’s face. “They never believed the commission’s bullshit, or so they say.”

“But they believe your bullshit, is that it?”

“I am just one man,” Supervillain said with a smile, spreading their hands wide. “Ineffectual. What could I do that’s so bad?”

“Oh, I don’t know, using a hammer as a wakeup call comes to mind,” Leader grouched, relaxing back against the chair. “Aside from that do you want the list categorically from worst to least bad, or chronologically, either way it’s a long time we’re going to be chatting.”

“Oh Leader, don’t worry. We have time,” Supervillain purred, walking over to Leader’s chair. Leader couldn’t even back away, couldn’t flinch, couldn’t do anything with how fucking tightly they were tied down and it scared them.

Scared them how easy it would be for Supervillain to kill them then and there.

Tied up, defenceless, immobile.

The fear must have shown in their eyes because Supervillain let out a soft laugh when their legs touched Leader’s knees.

“You’re not so brave like this, are you? Did I scare you earlier Leader? Did you think I was going to strangle you to death? Are you afraid I’ll do it again?” Supervillain reached a hand over and Leader recoiled, trying to avoid it getting anywhere near their neck, but Supervillain’s hand pressed against Leader’s throat all the same and the fear gripped them like a vulture’s talons.

The courage bubbled up Leader’s throat and they bit out, “yeah? Let’s see how brave you are stripped of your gear and tied up in enemy territory.”

“I could you know. It would be so easy,” Supervillain said with a soft hum, squeezing slightly.

Leader’s eyes turned to stone, a grave challenge in them, the kind Leader would wager their life against. Leader leaned forward slightly, staring directly into Supervillain’s stupid smiling face, and said: “then do it and get it over with. Kill me and spare me the torture of having to listen to you talk.”

Supervillain smiled a handsome smile.

Their smile didn’t waver as they drew their fist up and slammed it down hard on Leader’s broken hand. Leader howled, throwing their body forward on instinct, trying to protect themselves but all they did was drive themselves straight into Supervillain’s strangling hold and Leader gasped in pain, tears streaming down their face as Supervillain shoved them by their neck to the back of the chair.

Leader choked on nothing, sucking in startled air which got caught on their strangled cries of pain in their throat. Their body fighting against the restraints and Supervillain’s hold trying to fight, trying to escape. Their body hadn’t gotten the message that struggling was futile yet.

“Hmm,” Supervillain hummed. “I think you’re right Leader. I much prefer the sounds of your screams over my voice.”

“You fuc—” Leader screamed again as Supervillain drove the palm of their hand into the back of Leader’s, kneading the shattered bones, choking on their screams, clamping their teeth down on their cheek to soften them to more of a pained hum.

“I can make good on that gag Leader,” Supervillain promised, moving their fingers up to pinch Leader’s cheeks and force their mouth into an O shape. Leader swallowed, feeling Supervillain’s hand bobbing with their throat. “That way I still get your delightful screams and cries of help.”

Leader huffed out a breath, the pain finally receding in their brain enough for them to think.

“Grapefruit.”

Supervillain blinked, then frowned, then raised their eyebrows and tightened their hold ever so slightly.

“What?”

“Grapefruit,” Leader said again, voice raw, almost breathless and Supervillain let their grip loosen a little.

“Have you lost it already, Leader?” Supervillain asked and Leader shook their head as best as they could.

“Then what’s Grapefruit?”

Leader swallowed hard and rasped: “It’s a citrus fruit—”

“I know what grapefruit is,” Supervillain huffed, “I don’t know why you keep repeating it.”

Leader looked up through their tear-soaked lashes, all innocence and doe eyed charm, and said with a straight face: “my safe word is grapefruit.”

Supervillain stood up straighter and let go of Leader’s throat and Leader could breathe easy for the second of relief that came with it. Then Supervillain slammed down their hand on Leader’s hand and Leader struggled and howled and screamed and cried, “oW! JEES— motherFUCKER! GRAPEFRUIT! GRAPEFR— FUCK!”

“Maybe I hurt the wrong part of you, Leader. Maybe I should have broken your jaw, then maybe you would shut up!” Supervillain hissed.

“Maybe….” Leader ground out, a shit eating grin on their face despite the pain, despite their situation, despite everything that was thrown at them in the last week. “Maybe you’re going to have to kill me to stop me, Supervillain. Do it right now, say it was an accident and maybe, maybe Villain— argh! Maybe Villain forgives you. I’m irritating, an honest mistake, I pushed you too far…”

Supervillain glared down at Leader now, hands completely off Leader, balling into meaty fists at their sides, nostrils flaring in anger. Leader took that as their cue to continue with their exhausted throat.

“But the longer you keep me alive, the longer I have with Villain? The less sleep you’re gonna get because I found Villain, I made them who they are today, and you’re scared. You are terrified of me, that’s why you tied me down so tight. That’s why Villain isn’t here right now. You’re in deep, and you don’t know how to get out. Kill me, you risk alienating Villain forever, keep me alive? Me and Villain have more chats about the good old days, and you still lose them. Either way you’re fucked, but I know which one I’d choose, Supervillain. Take your hammer to my temple and be done with it.”

Supervillain stilled, eyes widening slightly in a dim realisation, and then, to Leader’s chagrin, Supervillain smiled. Smug and superior and oh so knowing, and Leader frowned because they didn’t know what they had to be so happy about.

“Oh Leader,” Supervillain sighed. They patted Leader’s head and let out a small, startled laugh. “Leader, Leader, Leader,” they said and as quick as they arrived, they left, and Leader tried to turn in their seat to see what they were doing but they couldn’t. All they could do was stare forward and hear Supervillain’s footsteps getting further and further away.

“What?!” Leader yelled, twisting and turning and getting nowhere except aggravating their hand and they cursed and sat staring at the wall. They flinched when they heard a door open and close, and Leader was left alone.

That thought scared them more than anything Supervillain did.

*~*~*~*~*

Orphanage roll call (lmk if you want to be added/removed): @nameless-beanie @aarika-merrill @criohfreeze @bandnbookbag @gala1981 @theonewithallthefixations

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patchworkorphan · 4 months

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Heroic Betrayal: part four

Read part one here

Continued from this

TW: Blood

*~*~*~*~*

The next thing Hero remembered they were in a cell on a bed, the cuffs still firmly around their wrists. They didn’t remember how they got there, or where they were, something Hero could no doubt credit to Flynn. Though Hero felt the salt trail of tears hardened around the corner of their eyes and down their cheeks.

So much for not using their power on me.

They were thankful Flynn had left them with their scabbard at least, straps still wrapped tight around their chest, scabbard reassuring on their back. They could grab their daggers anytime.

As soon as Flynn took these stupid handcuffs off, Hero thought mulishly, staring down at their trapped hands balanced in between their bent knees.

There was a door opening somewhere nearby and Hero raised their head to look at the cell bars, waiting for whoever it was to come gloat. Somewhere, in the dark side of their mind, a sad, quiet voice wanted nothing more than to see Flynn’s stupid face on the other side of the bars.

Instead, it was Villain who appeared. Hero struggled to keep their face neutral. They didn’t want to show Villain what impact they left on them. Villain and their stupid fucking shadows. Hero fixed Villain with a bored stare, resting their head back against the cold wall.

“Miss me?” Hero asked, wanting to celebrate that their voice didn’t betray them. Unlike Flynn.

Villain just stared, cocking a brow at Hero. Then the shadows slipped from their palms and under their clothes, slowly, dreadfully slowly, dripping, slithering along the ground and through the bars of the cell. Hero’s heart hammered against their chest, but they forced themselves not to move. Not to react. That’s what Villain wanted, for them to scream and cry.

Fine. Maybe they would, but Villain would damn fucking sure have to work for it.

“If you want to give me a hug, Villain you can come in here and do it yourself.”

“Cute,” said Villain, cocking their head to the side, a smile slipping onto their face, “but I think I’ll leave that for Flynn.”

Hero’s heart panged at that, and they hated themselves for it. They shouldn’t be sad. They should be angry. Pissed off, but their stupid little heart ached at the mention of Flynn, and they couldn’t wrestle the feeling away.

“What was it like?” Villain asked, leaning their hands through the bars and clasping them together. Their eyes shining with malice, “realising your best friend and greatest ally was all lies. Did it hurt? I bet it hurt.”

“Ehh. You win some, you lose some,” Hero shrugged, subtly retracting their feet to their chest to evade the shadowy claws that were crawling up the legs of the bedframe.

“Ah. You seem more confident than before. Have you had time to process it all? Compartmentalise? Is that what they taught you during Hero training? Maybe I’ll ask Flynn…”

Hero smiled, the result humourless and wan. “You do that.”

The cold was the first sign that the shadows were on them. A hand wrapped around Hero’s ankle, slowly pulling their leg down. “What about you?” Hero asked, wanting to take their focus off the shadows pulling at them.

Villain’s eyebrows raised in question. “What about me?”

“You must have missed him,” Hero continued, nonchalant. “I mean when Flynn was pretending to be my friend. The late nights, the early mornings. The stakeouts… we got close. Maybe they were lying to me about being a villain and a traitor, but still… all that time they spent with me they weren’t with you. How does that feel?”

Villain didn’t answer. Instead, they drew their arm back sharply and the shadows yanked Hero down the bed. Hero kicked and fought, but they were struggling against air and shadows. With their hands locked uselessly in front of them and without their powers Hero could do nothing as the shadows kept dragging Hero towards the bars where Villain stood.

“You’re not worth the effort,” Villain spat as they reached up and pressed their actual cold hand to Hero’s throat, keeping their chin up and forcing them to look into Villain’s cool black eyes, burning with an old kind of hatred.

“Mmm,” Hero said, clearing their throat with a slight cough that highlighted Villain’s hands on their throat. “Maybe you should ask Fly—”

Villain cut Hero off by squeezing their hand around Hero’s throat. Hero pulled back, but it was as if a wall was behind them squishing them towards the bars, to Villain’s hand and their unyielding grip. Hero couldn’t even use their hands to free themselves because they were squished between their rib cage and the iron bars of the cell.

Eventually Villain let go and Hero pushed back a little, gasping in lungfuls of air.

“I don’t even know what he sees in you,” Villain hissed, and Hero looked up through their lashes, still wheezing for oxygen and said: “my devil may care charm, perhaps.”

A hand gripped the back of Hero’s head and slammed their nose into the bars in front of them. Hero gripped the bars on instinct when a loud resounding crunch echoed through Hero’s head, along with their sharp cry of pain. Warm blood started flowing down their nose and lips, dripping passed their chin and onto their shirt.

“Motherfucker,” Hero gasped out. Then their head was shoved down again and Hero cried out in pain, the impact hitting their bridge square on the bars and causing the blood to gush, some going down the back of their throat and Hero coughed, the taste of iron staining their mouth. Enraged Hero spit some of the blood into Villain’s stupid, smirking face.

Villain smiled and it seemed to suck all confidence from Hero’s very soul. A smile so dark it struck fear straight to Hero’s heart.

“Ah. I see now what he likes about you. You look perfect when you’re bleeding and scared.”

Hero couldn’t help themselves as the words spilled from their mouth: “you creep. At least buy me dinner first.”

Then Hero was forced onto their knees by the shadows holding them. Villain grabbed Hero’s chin, tilting their head side to side, examining them. Hero tried to push back, to stand up, to do anything. But the shadows kept them exactly how Villain wanted them.

“There. Beautiful,” Villain said. Hero’s blood was dripping onto Villain’s hand, but they didn’t seem to care. Hero sucked in a breath through gritted teeth and choked on some of the blood, sputtering slightly. Villain’s eyes seared into Hero’s soul, watching them struggle and revelling in it. Villain pressed their hand that was soaked in Hero’s blood to Hero’s cheek, wiping the remnants on Hero before straightening up properly.

Villain released them and Hero fell to all fours, coughing out the blood onto the concrete floor. Painting the miserable grey, a bright red. When Hero looked up again Villain was gone, but the fear they had trapped in Hero’s chest was still very much there.

Lingering.

Hero retreated to the back wall of the cell, sitting on the cot again and resting their head back against the wall, waiting for the blood to stop falling and cursing themselves.

That Flynn…

Their Flynn was the one who put Sidekick in the med bay.

Sidekick, who was still in the med bay, where Hero should be, but no. Instead, they were here, powerless and bleeding and it was all their fault.

*~*~*~*~*

Continued here

The Orphanage, or, the tag-list: @princess-bubble-blossom @morning-star-whump

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rmhashauthor · 1 year

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Yet More Dreck!

I'm not kidding, I have a TON of these little pieces of things just lying around. They follow me from hard-drive to hard-drive and I just can't let them go. Every time I come up with a new species or character they get their own little vignettes to flesh them out before (if) I do anything with them. Sometimes they come out like dreams, and I'll look up after writing for two, three hours and stare at it like "where did this come from?"

This one I do have plans for, but they're secret plans 😁

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

When they trained her for stasis, they told her that waking up would be unpleasant at best. They told her that she would feel grimy, like she'd just been dug out of a crypt, and that the inside of her mouth would taste like she hadn't brushed her teeth in seventeen years. They warned her that she'd have to fight going back to sleep, and if she couldn't then she'd get a hefty shot of stimulants to make damn sure she woke up. During the training runs she'd been drugged into twilight sleep just to be jerked rudely awake by a needle full of epinephrine to the heart, had soaked for hours in tubs of ice to acclimate to the deep freeze of space, and signed off on the placement of a nasogastric tube that would keep her alive while she slept. She'd had multiple psychological evaluations, been trained in survival and hand-to-hand combat, and said goodbye to her friends and peers before her trip. The fact that she would probably never see them again had been discussed, but she'd believed that the benefit to mankind would outweigh her personal losses.

What they hadn't told her was that when she stepped into the launch capsule, a cluster of space rocks the size of buses would cross her path in forty-seven years and send her single-person craft into survival shutdown. Unbeknownst to her, there was a fail-safe built into her life-support systems that switched from maintenance to storage, taking her body from preservative deep sleep and locking it in suspended animation. Once her blood had been flushed with a solution designed to remain liquid even hundreds of degrees below freezing, the craft would shut down to nuclear battery power and send a distress ping alerting anyone or anything nearby that there was a vessel in need of help. And it did, for approximately four hundred and thirty-eight years.

Lyssa Alderman remained frozen, completely unaware that she slept through The Greeting, and first contact between humans and the huge semi-aquatic Dreen. She slept through the breaking of the Drassian Empire, its young Dragon Emperor abdicating his throne to save his people. She slept through asteroid storms, rings of gas giants like colossal dancers in the endless night, and the birth of stars in their placental clouded nebulae. And when her craft's signal was picked up all those centuries later and her rescuer Tafa scooped her out of the dark with a magnetic arm, she slept through that too. Lyssa only woke when someone with knowledge of 'defrosting' using generations-old tech pumped her veins with borrowed blood and cycled through the long, slow process of unfreezing her body before ramming a shot of amphetamine straight into her bloodstream. Lyssa jerked to life then, screaming a rusty shriek that rebounded on the white walls of the medical ward while her body protested against being folded in the same shape for half a millennium. Under conscious sedation, her saviors unwilling to anesthetize her again so soon after waking, her nasogastric tube was removed and replaced with an IV bag of fluid nutrients, and her recovery and reintroduction to waking life began.

Lyssa stared at her hands, stiff and curled into claws from her centuries of sleep, and tried to make sense of what Doctor Grissom was telling her. They found us? Aliens? Actual life beyond our system, not just single-celled things? Her mind, still sluggish, struggled to incorporate this new knowledge, didn't quite understand what Grissom was saying.

“You need to drink, Lyssa. It's thirty-nine degrees out there, drinking is the difference between life and death.”

He means Celsius. It's over a hundred degrees Fahrenheit outside, it's hot. The world beyond her hospital room glared with yellow light, the grassy dunes outside her window shades of dun and amber. Juua, he said this is Juua. Another world, a completely different star-system, a planet with very little surface water but nonetheless alive.

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

The desert heat pounded mercilessly on her head as Lyssa followed Doctor Grissom across the campus. “You'll get used to it,” he assured her. “Make sure you drink plenty of water – you'll find community watering stations every block or so. Ask any Juun for water and they're happy to give it to you free of charge. They're an extremely hospitable people, even if they look strange to you.”

Lyssa had to agree. These Juun, the strange humanoid creatures that lived in densely populated communities in the desert, hadn't been discovered when she'd begun her journey, and the revelation that there was life beyond Earth, life far more complex than the single-celled bacteria of Io, had left her gasping to comprehend. Lyssa wondered when she would start to feel old, when time would begin to catch up with her. Sweat dripped down her face, her hair was soaked with it and dust clung to her skin from it. She and Doctor Grissom passed three of the aliens, their androgynous faces and bodies swathed in loose clothing that hid any distinction between male and female. Some looked more feminine or masculine, but she wasn't able to say how. All wore jewelry of some kind, some more than others, and it seemed that there was no one particular hairstyle. Some wore their straight or wavy light-colored hair cropped short, others long, some loose and others twisted into simple or elaborate braids or curls piled on top of the head or trailing down their slender backs. It was easier to accept their long, thin tails and legs than it was their apparent androgyny.

Grissom led Lyssa to his office, inviting her to sit while his assistant – a Juun with strawberry-blonde hair pinned to the back of their head with a piece of sharpened, polished bone – prepared them a tray of cold tea and dried fruit. “Lyssa, this is Asha, they have worked for me for several years. Asha, Lyssa is the patient I have told you about.”

Asha offered Lyssa a delicate cup and a friendly, genderless smile. “Doctor Grissom speaks well of you, Lyssa. I am pleased to see you alert and on your feet.”

“Um...thanks.” Lyssa took the cup, regarding the pale liquid with mild suspicion. Asha's clothes whispered quietly as the Juun bustled around the room, straightening books and collecting papers. Lyssa watched them, cautious of the thin tail that flicked silently around their ankles. Asha handled Doctor Grissom's things with great care, maneuvering their long, slim four-fingered hands with delicacy. When Asha moved a stack of files to a tray by the window, Lyssa took note of the fine hairs covering the Juun's arms, a soft pelt like mouse fur that left only the palms of their hands and the soles of their feet bare. Asha nodded to Doctor Grissom and he returned the nod. “Thank you Asha, I'll see you tomorrow.”

“Good night, Doctor.” The Juun padded out of the office, silent as a cat. Lyssa watched them go, unsure how to regard the exchange.

“It takes most people some time to get used to them,” Doctor Grissom began, “I know I was uncomfortable at first. But Juun are surprisingly understanding when it comes to humans, they don't seem to mind explaining to us humans how things work around here. When I first started my practice here Asha did much more than keep my schedule and handle my business affairs – they served as my social liaison as well. It's really thanks to them that the community trusts me. You can only go so far with an education, you have to have the people skills to go with it. You remember people skills, don't you?” Grissom's bearded face cracked a smile, but Lyssa frowned mutely into her cup.

The doctor set his cup down. “Lyssa... I know this is difficult. You missed out on almost seven hundred years of history and you're scrambling to catch up. But you're a brilliant woman, smart enough to enter the Federation's exploration program, so I know you'll be able to adjust.”

Lyssa stared into her cup. When she'd first climbed into the Rosetta craft, humans had been the only intelligent life she knew of. Two hundred and forty years after the Rosetta's signal had been lost, the Greeting came and the Dreen had reached out to humankind. A century later, the Nuani and Drass had made themselves known, and barely a generation after that the Drassian Empire's last surviving prince had disbanded the monarchy. Since then more and more species had come out of the shadows of space, and the Federation had cataloged them as they came. Lyssa had gone into stasis hoping humans weren't alone in the universe, and woke seemingly into an ironic dream – everyone she'd known, all of her relatives, everyone she'd loved was gone, dead for centuries, their descendants scattered to the stars. That she was related however distantly to Doctor Grissom made no difference – Lyssa was alone in the universe, as alone as she had been when the Rosetta had found itself adrift in the interstellar current. Doctor Grissom voice brought her back from the edge: “Lyssa, you should drink, dehydration can kill you in two or three days.”

She tipped the cup to her lips and drank. The cold liquid touched her lips and she realized suddenly that she was thirsty. The tea disappeared down her throat and settled behind her breastbone. When she set down the empty cup Doctor Grissom refilled it. “Better get into the habit now, it's easier to maintain hydration than it is to catch up.” Lyssa found herself remembering snippets of the survival training she'd undergone for months before liftoff. Two liters of water per day, per person. Always more if you can get it. She drank another cup of tea.

“Lyssa...” The tone in Michael Grissom's voice told her he wanted to breach a new subject, one that she might find distasteful. “Concerning your living situation, as well as your adjustment, I believe it would be in your best interests to place you with a foster family. Asha has located a pair of Juun willing to take you in for a time.”

“A foster family? I'm not a child-”

“Let me explain. Among the Juun, it's a common enough practice to take on fosters of any age. Older Juun with no living relatives can adopt or be adopted by a younger Juun family. Some of my staff live with Juun families, and they raise their children alongside Juun weans. It's a good system, it makes sure that no one is left completely alone. The pair I have in mind live outside of the city, in a canyon a few miles from here. They're nice people, I've met them before. They'll do their best to help you acclimate, teach you the language and the history you've missed.”

“No.”

“Pardon?”

“I want to go home. I want to go back to Earth, where I belong.”

“Lyssa, Earth isn't like you remember. You wouldn't recognize the place – the shock would be terrible for your health, mentally and physically. You need to go somewhere quiet where you can come to terms with it all.”

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

So there's that. Another species, another world, more cultural exploration and drama, all the good stuff. I don't want to give too much away, but this story will likely be very experimental in terms of character-building and interactions. Hopefully I'll have the time to get it finished, it'd be nice to see it out in the real world on a bookstore shelf some day...

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luxaofhesperides · 1 year

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those who serve.

Running away from Amity Park—from his entire dimension—Danny takes refuge in the streets of Gotham. It's hard, suddenly being a homeless teenager in such a crime-ridden city, but it's better than dying a second time.

Enter Alfred Pennyworth, a kind old man who works as a butler who, for some reason, has decided to befriend Danny.

His future is still up in the air, but he's hopeful that things will work out. After all, Alfred isn't getting any younger and someone needs to help him with his butler duties. Danny's just the right person for the job.

Or: Alfred Pennyworth sees a homeless teen who looks like he'd fit right into the Wayne family and decides to take matters into his own hands. It's not like he's just going to leave this very sad, possibly meta teenager alone when there's more than enough space in the Manor to house one more child in need.

read chapter one on ao3 or below the cut.

Technically, Danny doesn’t exist.

He has no papers, no records, no family in this dimension. It’s a blank slate, a fresh start where he can be anything he wants. That doesn’t change what he is, however, and Danny is just another lonely child living on the streets.

In Gotham, he’s not a hero or a threat; he’s just another nameless face passing by, another teenager with no support system and no future. Just a figure clinging to the alley walls, head bowed and hands tucked into the pocket of his hoodie. It’s not great, far from it, but it’s better than the alternative where he—

—parading around in the corpse of our son! How dare you! Wearing his face won’t save you from what we’ll do to you! Leave Danny’s body so we can bury him, leave him! I’ll tear you ap—

This is better, is the point. Out of the frying pan and into the crime ridden streets of Gotham. Not quite a fire but close enough.

No one is hunting him down in this dimension, at least. He’s ignored and left to his own devices, wandering the streets only when the sun’s gone down and slipping into grocery stores after hours, invisible, to get a few things to eat. It sucks that he’s resorted to stealing to survive, but at least he’s surviving.

Survival is the entire reason he ran from his own dimension, after all.

He’s been here for two and a half weeks now, getting acquainted with the streets. Every day is spent hiding and trying to endure the crushing loneliness and grief of losing his entire life. He’s still half alive, yes, but the life he lived has gone up in flames, torn to pieces under his parents’ attacks. He can’t even blame them for it; under the circumstances, with the limited understanding they had, it’s only natural that they would try to kill him after discovering that Danny Fenton, their son, died two years ago.

Understanding doesn’t stop the sting of betrayal, doesn’t soothe the ache of being chased away from his family, but it’s something.

It’s all he has, these days.

There’s no one to hide from, no one who knows him at all, so Danny wanders, more ghost-like than he’s ever been before. People give him a wide berth at night, never making eye contact and walking by faster.

Save for one, of course. One person, at dawn, who always seems to find him no matter where Danny’s wandered that night.

He introduced himself as Alfred Pennyworth. The British accent caught Danny off guard enough that he stopped and turned to face the man, who stood a few feet away, umbrella held over his head.

“Are you quite all right, my boy?” he had asked. “I have a spare umbrella if you would like to keep from getting any more soaked.”

It took a few tries for Danny to find his voice after a week of not speaking a word. “No,” he rasped, barely audible over the rain, “I’m fine.”

He walked away without another word, thinking that was the end of it.

It wasn’t.

Alfred returned dawn after dawn, never staying longer than ten minutes, trying to make small talk with Danny.

Danny, for his part, had no idea why this random British man had decided to make friends with a homeless teenager, but figured that he was just a lonely old man with no family left. That, Danny could understand. So he’d stay for a bit, listening to him talk and occasionally replying, then say his goodbyes when more people began to emerge onto the street.

Two and a half weeks in, Alfred finally asks Danny for his name.

“Why?” Danny asks, shifting where he stands. He doesn’t exist here, but it doesn’t stop his instinctual need to run from anyone who goes looking into him. The GIW don’t exist here, no one is hunting him down. There’s no information about him in this dimension that can be used against him. It’s hard to remember that, not after he’s spent the last few years trying to keep ghost hunters from finding him.

“I feel it’s rather rude of me to speak to someone I have never properly greeted,” Alfred says. He always speaks so calmly, as if there’s nothing in the world that can shake his composure.

I don’t exist here, Danny reminds himself, I’m safe.

“Danny.”

“Danny,” Alfred repeats. “A fine name.”

“Thanks? It was my first birthday present.”

The stupid comment makes Alfred smile, just a little, so Danny calls it a win instead of beating himself up over having zero control over what his mouth says.

There’s more movement along the streets now, Gotham beginning to wake up with storeowners getting ready for the day and morning shift employees heading out to let the night shift go. It’s just about time for them to part ways until the next morning, and Danny’s resigning himself to another day of loneliness.

His short conversations with Alfred are really all he looks forward to. It’s nice to hear about the man’s time in England, his work as a butler, his opinions on American cuisine and the like. He never presses for a response and he doesn’t try to dig for more information about Danny. Just talks to him, then says his goodbyes.

“I’ll let you go back to your day,” Danny says, pushing off of the wall he’s been leaning against. “See you around.”

Alfred nods once. “Very well. I do hope you get some rest today, Danny. You always look very tired when we talk. I hope I haven’t been keeping you from sleeping.”

“Oh, not at all. I just have insomnia. Better to have some company than just lay around wondering why I can’t sleep, you know?”

“Indeed. I shall be off then.”

“Yeah, alright,” Danny says. “I’ll see you tomorrow once you somehow track me down again. Are you sure you don’t have magic?”

Alfred shakes his head with a small smile. “I am quite positive I do not have magic. Perhaps we simply have similar ideas about where the best places to walk are.”

“Sure,” Danny says, drawing out the word. “Whatever you say.”

Truth be told, the first few days, he was scared that Alfred was somehow tracking him down. For what, Danny didn’t know. Maybe he wanted to harvest Danny’s organs? Sell him to an evil scientist to be experimented on? Induct him into a mob?

Alfred didn’t do any of that. He just showed up, talked for a few minutes, then went on his way. He never followed Danny, never asked strange questions, never did anything besides chat about his life and his work as a butler.

It honestly was fun to listen to. It’s clear how much Alfred cares for his employers. Before meeting him, Danny had never really thought of butlers beyond being an outdated job for people too rich to do their own chores. Now it’s interesting, learning all the things a butler has to do and why Alfred chooses to do them.

He still doesn’t have a favorable opinion on billionaires. Too many bad experiences for him to view them is any unbiased light (thanks for that, Vlad, but eat the rich either way); still, it’s nice to know that this family looks out for Alfred. They give him a place to live, a family to live with, a reason to stay.

It would be nice if Danny could have those too, in any way that he could. He’s at the end of his rope, struggling to stay and not surrender himself into the Zone and be done with the living realm entirely.

Even his Obsession isn’t enough to sustain him. There’s no one to protect here; honest to god vigilantes patrol the streets of Gotham to keep it safe. Danny isn’t needed here.

There’s no place for him at all.

Already, his mood is plummeting and all he’s done is take a few steps away from Alfred. It doesn’t bode well for his future, whether that’s what’s to come in the next few hours or the next year.

Sighing, Danny ducks his head back down and begins his search for someplace to bunker down for the day. There are quite a few empty buildings around, newly constructed but not yet in use. He doubts there’s any security installed yet, so he should be safe to settle in and catch some sleep before the sun goes down.

Just as he turns the corner, he hears someone running. They’re behind him and he tenses, ready to disappear so they can’t get him.

It’s not Danny they go to. It’s Alfred.

“Hand over your wallet if you want to get out of here alive, old man!”

Shit, Danny thinks, spinning on his heel to get back to Alfred. He rounds the corner to see a mugger jabbing a gun at Alfred’s temple. He looks angry, nearly shaking, and there’s a strange shine in his eyes.

Drugs? No, not important. What’s important is that Alfred is standing still, as calm as ever, with his hands lifted in the air.

“Hey!” Danny yells, sprinting towards them, “Back the fuck up before I rip your tongue out!”

Fear and anger push him on, his Obsession whispering protect protect protect in his ear and he closes the distance between them.

The mugger barely has time to move the gun away from Alfred’s head, and no time at all to point it at Danny, before Danny tackles him, slamming him onto the ground. He rips the gun out of the mugger’s hand and tosses it carelessly to the side.

“Don’t touch him,” he hisses. Faintly, he’s aware that his features are shifting, becoming a little less human. The snarl building in his chest has his teeth sharpening, bared in warning.

The mugger trembles beneath him, thrashing weakly. “Alright, alright! Just lemme go! Let go!”

He doesn’t want to. Danny wants to hurt him for daring to go after Alfred, the one good light in the dark, the only person Danny cares about in this dimension. He wants to make this man regret his choices, make him terrified for the rest of his life, break every bone in his hand so he can’t ever pick up a gun again.

A hand drops onto his shoulder.

“That’s enough, Danny,” Alfred says. His voice is stern and Danny can’t help but listen, effortlessly pulled out of his adrenaline fueled rage. His humanity returns to him. “There we are. Come now, my boy, stand up.”

He stands. The mugger scrambles to his feet and runs away.

With the danger gone, Danny can think clearly again. He takes a few deep breaths and locks his ghost-half away as tightly as possible, keeping the cold in his chest buried deep. It was good for scaring away a mugger, but he doesn’t want Alfred to think he’s a monster.

He can handle a lot, but not that.

“Are you okay?” he asks, looking over Alfred for any injuries. There’s no telling that was done to him before Danny got the mugger away from him. It may have only been a moment, but Danny knows very well how quickly a moment can change a life (or take it away).

“Quite. In fact, I am sure you are in worse shape than I am, at the moment.” Alfred gestures downwards and Danny follows his gaze to his knees, where his already worn jeans have new holes in them. His knees are skinned from how hard he slammed into the ground, a dull ache he hadn’t noticed until it was pointed out to him.

“It’s fine,” he says, “I can barely feel it.”

Alfred gives him a hard look, as though he thinks Danny is lying; he’s not, the pain is barely there. He’s had a lot worse in the past. He can handle skinned knees easily.

“Well,” Alfred says, “Thank you for coming back to help me. If there’s anything I can do to pay you back—”

“No. I don’t… I didn’t do it for payment. I don’t need anything.”

“I would like to—”

“No,” Danny interrupts again. “No payment. I just did what was right. Don’t make this a big deal, please.”

Alfred sighs. “Very well,” he concedes, looking more tired and worn than Danny’s ever seen him. “I shall not keep you any longer. Until tomorrow, Danny.”

He looks as though he expects Danny to take the out, to leave immediately. Danny shifts, not meeting his eyes as he doesn’t move.

“I’ll walk with you,” he mumbles. “So no one tries to hurt you again.”

Danny’s worried that Alfred will insist on going alone, that he’ll have to go invisible and follow along when he isn’t wanted, but Alfred is kinder than that. Alfred doesn’t refuse or insist he go on his own. No, he smiles and thanks Danny for his consideration before taking off, making sure that Danny walks besides him rather than behind him.

They don’t talk much. Alfred seems to know that Danny isn’t much for words at the moment, sticking to his side and constantly surveying their surroundings for any danger. He walks confidently through the streets as though he wasn’t just held at gunpoint, carrying on with his morning with the same stubborn spirit that keeps most Gothamites from giving up on their city.

Alfred visits a small bakery first. They’re not yet open, but the owner props open the door when they arrive, waving them in.

“Alfred!” she greets cheerfully, “And I see you have someone new with you.”

She looks expectantly at Danny, who shifts uncomfortably under the attention. He can’t get his voice to work, can’t figure out how to get the right words out.

“Ah, yes,” Alfred says, smoothly drawing her attention off of Danny. “This is Danny. We often talk in the morning and he has decided to accompany me today.”

“I see. Well, it’s nice to meet you! I’m Yurica. Alfred and I enjoy some tea together in the mornings before starting with our days. Why don’t you join us?”

“I don’t… mean to intrude,” Danny manages to say before Yurica waves off his hesitant refusal.

“Nonsense! Any friend of Alfred is a friend of mine. Come, come, let’s get the two of you seated. You’ll get the first picks of the day, once I get the last batches out of the ovens.”

She leads them into the bakery, past the kitchen and upstairs into a small sitting room. Danny follows them, unable to leave without seeming rude. He joins Alfred on the couch, awkwardly perched on the edge as Yurica bustles around, disappearing down the hall.

Distantly, he hears the sound of running water and a stove top being turned on. The clinking of cups follows, along with the opening and closing of cupboards. It almost sounds like home, when Jazz was setting herself up for a long study session to make sure she’s prepared for college.

Without noticing, Danny relaxes back into the couch. He keeps his eyes closed, just listening to the movement around the building; it’s soothing white noise that chases away the constant ache of loneliness he’s been carrying these past few weeks.

“Quite the relaxing home, isn’t it?” Alfred asks.

“You come here every day?”

“Not every day, but a few times a week. We’re old friends and are often up before anyone else. It’s nice to catch up for just a few minutes, especially at our age.”

He wonders if this is what it feels like, spending time with grandparents. He never met his own, could never relate to the kids who were always excited to spend time with their grandparents over the holidays, eager to be part of a bigger family. It was fine, before, when it was just him, Jazz, and their parents.

It was fine.

It didn’t last.

Yurica returns a few minutes later, carrying a tray full of cups and a teapot made to look like a fat cat. The sight of it makes him smile, almost distracting him from noticing the way Yurica and Alfred share a Look.

“Here we are,” she says, setting the tray down on the table. She lays out the cups before Danny can offer to help, pouring out fragrant tea with a steady hand. “Cream? Sugar?”

Alfred adds cream to his own cup while Danny shakes his head, quietly thanking her for the tea.

He cradles his cup in his hands, savoring the gentle warmth while Alfred and Yurica chat. He tunes them out, letting their voices fade into background noise.

This is the most relaxed he’s felt in months. It’s sad to think about, so he tries not to, but it lingers in the back of his mind.

Time passes without him noticing. Danny sips his tea until his cup is empty, then sets it down on the tray. That seems to be a cue that Alfred was waiting for, long done with his own cup, and he stands, thanking Yurica for her hospitality.

She waves it off with a smile before Danny can echo the sentiments, then ushers them downstairs, where trays of freshly baked pastries fill cover the counters of the bakery’s kitchen.

“Here, take your pick!”

Danny’s about to refuse when she shoves a paper bag into his hands. “Go on,” she says, “Take what you like. I always offer to friends and I find refusal to be rude.”

Now that she’s said that, Danny can’t keep refusing or he’ll feel awful. Alfred is already picking out a few pastries himself, so Danny trails after him, taking three pastries that look good. It’ll be enough to tide him over for the next two days, so he won’t have to steal any food.

“Thank you again, Yurica,” Alfred says, “It’s always a pleasure to chat with you.”

“Oh, you’re always such a sweet talker,” Yurica laughs. “I’ll see you again soon, Alfred. And you, Danny, are welcome here whenever. Even without Alfred. My doors are open to you.”

Yurica is kind. She sees him in all his scraggly, worn down glory, clearly homeless and with nothing to offer her, and she doesn’t turn him away. Instead she welcomes him in solely because he’s here with Alfred.

It’s enough to have him blinking back tears, ducking his head so they don’t see how much this affects him.

“Thank you,” he manages, then hurries to follow Alfred out the bakery.

Yurica waves at them from the door as they make their way down the street, then goes back in to continue preparing for the day.

Alfred walks around some more; he informs Danny that he has no errands to run at the moment and no one else to visit. Danny follows, keeping an eye out for anyone who might think Alfred is an easy target. He barely pays attention to where they go until they enter an underground parking garage.

The weak lights and stillness of the garage, along with the fact that it’s almost entirely empty, makes a fissure of unease race down his spine. This would be the perfect place for Danny to be knocked out and taken away; no witnesses, no help.

But Alfred wouldn’t do that. Danny wants to believe that Alfred wouldn’t do that.

He stops when Alfred pulls out a set of keys from his pocket. A black car in the back corner of the parking garage unlocks with a quick flash of the headlights. That is… an expensive looking car. It’s not an obvious luxury brand or anything, but it’s high quality and clearly made for people with money.

Guess being a butler pays well, Danny thinks.

Alfred opens the door, but doesn’t get into the car. Instead, he looks to Danny.

“Will you be alright, Danny? If you’d like, I have a first aid kit in the car that we can use to tend to your knees.”

“No, it’s fine. Thanks, though,” Danny says, trying to keep from tensing up too obviously.

“And you have a place to stay?”

“Sure do,” he lies.

“If you ever need help, you are welcome at Wayne Manor.”

Danny nods, intending to never go to the manor. He’s not going to risk another rich person trying to either 1) kill him or 2) make him their son. No way. Not in this dimension.

Alfred looks him over, then nods. He gets into the car, offering Danny a quick goodbye. Danny lifts a hand in return, then leaves the parking garage, holding his bag of pastries close to his chest. More people are starting to fill the streets, starting the day, and Danny still hasn’t found a place to hide until night.

He’s kept Alfred safe during his dawn walk. He’s safely delivered Alfred to his car so he can drive to wherever he needs to go.

There’s no point in him sticking around any longer.

Hood up, Danny hurries down the streets, ducking into alleys to avoid being seen by people. It takes half an hour to reach the empty buildings he was considering before, and then just a minute to go invisible and fly up to the roof. The door going inside is locked, but a little intangibility goes a long way.

Danny makes himself comfortable in one of the many empty rooms, back to the wall, and pulls out one of the pastries. It’s not as warm as before, but it’s still soft and flakey. The glaze on it sweetens the bread and it’s the best thing Danny’s had since he first arrived in this dimension.

This can’t go on, he realizes.

All this squatting and stealing. It’s just not sustainable. He’s been acting as if he’s died again, left to haunt the streets of a city he doesn’t belong in. He’s spent all his time either sleeping or wandering, wallowing in his own misery.

No more. This is a second chance.

There’s no ghost hunters. No GIW. No need to be a hero when so many already exist, willingly taking on that burden. Here, Danny doesn’t exist, which means he can be anyone he wants to be.

And in order to live this new life, he’ll need a job. He’ll worry about school once he’s able to save up some money and find a place to live.

Step one to getting his shit together: find a job that will take on a homeless teenager who doesn’t legally exist.

He’s already got one in mind; Alfred does keep offering to help in any way he can, and he’s made working as a butler sound fulfilling.

Serving isn’t quite protecting, but it’ll be close enough that he can satisfy his Obsession.

The pieces are falling into place. The more he thinks about it, the more he likes this plan.

He’ll ask Alfred about it when they next meet. Everything else can wait until then.

(“Are you sure you’re okay, Alfred?”

“Quite,” Alfred says, smoothly stepping away from Bruce’s fussing. “Danny scared the mugger away before he could do anything.”

“I’m glad he was there. Are you sure I can’t go meet him? Thank him in person?”

“You’ll only scare him away, I’m afraid.”

Bruce sighs, reaching for his cup of coffee. “What about as Batman?”

“That will only be worse, I’m sure. Not everything can be solved by putting on a mask, Master Bruce.”

Tim enters the kitchen, drops a tablet on the table in front of Bruce, then collapses into his seat with a groan. “I can’t find anything on him. Are we sure he’s real?”

“I assure you he is very real, Master Tim.”

Tim lifts his head to give Alfred a bleary, assessing stare. “I know we always rag on B about his adoption problem, but he got it from you. You’re not going to stop until you get this Danny guy into the Manor, right?”

“It’s either that or setting up a home for him in Gotham.”

“Bring him here,” Tim says with a yawn, putting his head back on the table, “Now I’m curious about him, too.”

“I shall do my best, Master Tim. I shall do my best.”)

#dp x dc #dc x dp #dp x dc fanfic #danny fenton #alfred pennyworth #my writing #fic #chapter one of three!! dont ask abt an update schedule. i dont have one and never will #i just want alfred to adopt danny. he found danny first in this one!!#i mean. bruce had to get it from somewhere #and that somewhere is alfred taking care of a child who suddenly became an orphan and had no one else #its a family trait really #butler danny au #alfred's apprentice au

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