#writing reveal

[ohmyarda]

Written for @daflowerzine. Spot illustrations by @kalidels.

VANDAL ARIA. A flowering shrub that is often associated with the rose due to its sweet scent. Its closely related cousin, the felicidus aria, is capable of growing in blighted lands. The vandal aria - while lacking in this quality - still tends to be found almost everywhere, especially warm and dry climates. It's said that if the vandal aria is left unchecked, it will overtake an area.

Now that the zine has been fully published and the left-over sales are finished, here is my contribution to ARDENT BLOSSOM: A Botanical Compendium. Inspired by Solas' interpretation of an especially stubborn plant who does not always perceive surrender as an option. I'm a good sucker for foreshadowing; thank you for letting me write!

Transcript under the cut.

“Amidst the ever-shifting dunes, I see it – that small, flowering shrub that grows stubborn against the drifts. It blooms as if ignorant of the hostile terrain that it is has made home, or despite it.

‘It would not surprise me,’ the Warden Blackwall commented as we sat near each other in the light of the feeble campfire that illuminated the immediate space around us, ‘if the Vandal Aria came first and the deserts came later.’

I watch in the glowing darkness as the sands batter against the rose. In a moment, I dread to see the meager shrub be torn apart by the blistering winds that chase down the slope that has assaulted our own tents for the better half of a few hours. Yet though its green stalk bends and its petals open to drink the storm, it does not break – it merely sways, a wayward dance in the nighttime.

‘It is desperate to survive,’ I say.

Days earlier, we crossed a withered landscape where the Vandal Aria had cracked the stone as it pushed its way to the surface. The entire length of the stoneway bridge was covered in the sweet-smelling herb.

I saw how she choked the life out of any other plant senseless enough to grow near her, as the Vandal Aria will risk no competition. She is as wild as she is determined.

We can learn a great deal from her – the will to survive, and the grim horrors that must be accosted in order to do so. It is a grave lesson that the Inquisitor has learnt. Let us not be so modest that we cannot acknowledge that in order for one to survive, the deaths of others might be had.

Yet, let me conclude these observations with this:

If even the Vandal Aria can flower in an endless vastness of nothingness, then so to, can we. Even when there is nothing, is there not the chance to begin again. One just has to ask themselves –

At what cost, and am I willing to pay it?”

A written account by the apostate Solas in the Hissing Wastes, 9:41 Dragon, preserved in the Skyhold Archive and recovered in 9:43 Dragon at the request of Divine Victoria.

[egophiliac]

hear me out

silver vanrouge ❌️

silver draconia ✔️

malleus beats lilia to the punch

[evilmafuyu666]

[blackkatdraws2]

[Toon x Mobster] Jack confronts the darkness. This comic is related to this animation and future chapter events.

--- GRACE INFO DUMP TIME!! How can Grace appear out of nowhere and disappear in shadows like what happened in this animation?

Grace Huffman is human. The thing that she carries around is not. She calls it Lily.

[brucedefender4eva]

A little fanfic idea in my head cause I read this fanfic (multiple times)

You’re all Grounded by: SamLikesToRead on Ao3

So all of the teams are gathered together because of an alien invasion or some other large-scale event that required all of them to work together

All of the batkids are the leaders of their individual teams, as we all know, but they act completely differently

Smiling and relaxing happen extremely rarely, and they’re very ‘Batman’ when it comes down to it

They’re very strict and precise in their leadership. No joking around, no goofing off, no sarcastic quips

But suddenly, as far as all the other heroes know, they’re acting all friendly with these different heroes that they’ve never met before, or even purposefully antagonistic when they're usually level-headed and never provoke anyone

They’re very much so acting like annoying siblings to each other

And when Batman enters the room, suddenly they swear they’re useless

“B, open my Pringles, please. I swear they glued it shut.”

“B, do you have any juice boxes?” And they're just digging through his belt nonchalantly

Nightwing is just lying across Bruce’s shoulder, and Red Robin has stolen his iPad and is reading all the confidential information he has on it

Just stupid stuff, and they’ll whine if they have to do anything, complaining that they’re too tired from the fight, and Bruce will obviously give in

And then it’ll be revealed that the lazy couch potatoes are indeed his children. Whether there's a reveal that they're the Wayne family plus his bonus children doesn't really matter to me

[flamingpudding]

Dan's Rage Room

It all started as a little Joke for Danny. Jazz mentioned Dan needing a place to decompress and that resulted in Danny getting a crazy idea while he sat in the Buisness Class Course of his Highschool. It wasn't supposed to become a serious business but somehow the little warehouse in Amity Park he secured, through blackmailing Vlad cause the man owns him after all he was put through. Became an official big store, once Dani put up a sign saying 'Dan's Rage Room' as joke.

People of Amity Park apparently thought it was a legit store. And damn... Danny shouldn't have been as surprised as he was when more and more people appeared and asked how much an hour costed. It was Sam and Tucker that then convinced him to make it a legitimate Business, Jazz and his mother helped him fill out the form. And so 'Dan's Rage Room' became Danny's very own Business. Though he did try to push splitten ownership onto his clones/time selves/ cousins/ clone siblings / clone kids (It's complicated okay? Danny still hasn't figured out how to categorise Dan and Dani, but hey they were family.) But Dan and Dani refused to take any sort of owner ship, even when everything originally started as a place for Dan to unwind.

Eitherway his Business grew, and Danny ended up expanding to other cities, figuring out that if Amity Park's people needed this, others would too. With a bit of help and unwilling on his part teaching from Vlad. Danny opened up more Stores, Central City, Metropolis, Star City. Unintentionally Danny made enough money so much that he didn't knew what to do with it and suddenly felt a new kind of understanding for Sam. Despite being sure his parents likely already did that Danny made money Fonds for Jazz, Dan and Dani. He didn't have much hope to go to collage himself considering his grades but that was fine with him. (According to what clockwork let slip and he hadn't told anyone, he would become King of the Infinite realms anyway, no need for a college degree for that, right?)

And wenn his sister decided she wanted to go to university in Gotham, the most crime riddled city known? None of the three D's hesitated to follow. Danny opened another branch of 'Dan's Rage Room' deciding that would finance their live in Gotham and still be an outlet for Dan.

What Danny didn't expect was the amount of people that weren't just 'goons' like he expected paying to let loose in there. Not that he recognised them but some of Danny's new regulars made sure he knew who some of the apparent Big Names showing up to his store were.

Jason at first thought that a new drug place had opened up at the border to Crime Alley, but after observation and seeing not just Goons but also regular Gothamites frequenting the place. Jason gave it a cautious shot, he wallst into the place completely geared up as Red Hood expecting some muscular unkept drug dealer or something at the reception, but what he found was a boy that didn't look older than Tim, small lanky and looking weirdly tired. That took the wind out of his sails as he stared stunned at the kid for a moment.

"Ah... I see guns. A bullet room then? You seem new too, first time? An hour costs 50 bucks added 5 for every additional half an hour." The boy looked up briefly before looking back down at the book he was reading, muttering something about his sister making him visit online classes.

Jason was just about to say something when someone walked in behind him and he blinked. A fucking dump truck of muscle walked in flaming white hair looking ready to rip something apart. The kid didn't even look up as they held up a green card and the guy stomped past him into a door, Jason assumed lead to the... rage rooms?

It took a moment but once he composed himself again, Jason opened his mouth again only to get interrupted by a little girl stomping in next, screeching about a fruitloop and stupid galas and stupid boys. Again the boy at the reception didn't even loop up, holding another green card to the girl who then proceeded to go through the same door the other guy had.

Once again it took Jason a moment to compose himself again, before he spoke, gruff and voice modulated. "One hour... gun room." He would snoop around if he could but if this really was just a rage room business... well he had some unresolved frustrations with B stocked up he could let loose.

Jason quickly became a regular at that place, he kept visiting it, even when he found out some of their big Villains frequented the place too. Though apparently the Joker was band. One day a big ass sign appeared on the side of the building spelling out 'NO CLOWNS ALLOWED'. When he asked Danny, he had gotten to know the boy at the reception desk by now and found some uncanny resemblance to his little brother, the boy had just shrugged and said "I hate clowns." Laughter barked out of Jason for no reason and he took his regular room card chuckling a "You and me, and 99% of Gotham kid."

That place quickly became one of Jasons safe heavens. Even if he ever only went there in full Red Hood gear. This place helped him manage his rage and anger. Some of his siblings started to use that room too, he knew Damian went there too. In full Robin gear mind you but apparently they had a room where he could fully test out his swords skills. Good for the kid.

But what stung though was Bruce, that man still didn't trust the place, something about background checks not adding up.

Jason was going to refute that, that was until one day he noticed an unusual amount of white van all around Danny's store. And only moments after he entered the store guys completely and ridiculously dressed in white stormed the place holding what Jason thought was futuristic Guns at the Danny's head who appeared somewhat unfazed. Well no one could place Jason for pulling out his own gun and holding it onto the dressed in White guy's head while the man spewed some nonsense about ghosts and more. Like hell he was let these people destroy a new safe heaven.

If Jason spread the word in the underground and suddenly, villains, goons and gothamites as well as vigilantes (his overprotective brothers really, Dick was not going to let someone destroy a place his little wing and baby bat loved to frequent...) started a reverse hunt on people ridiculously dressed like them. It wasn't his doing. And he certainly loved the frustration it caused Bruce too, seeing as even Gordon and the police force, corrupt or not, were in on it too. Governmental institution or not, Jason would make sure the GIW would be going down soon enough.

[stealingyourbones]

Dan works in the Metropolis Police Department and is frequently on scene helping with crowd control during Superman battles.

It starts with saving Jimmy Olsen from a piece of falling rubble. Then helping Lois into the barricaded off Superman fight zone because Dan can tell she’ll get through them no matter what for her story, he might as well go with her and at least be sure she’s safe. Then he helps evacuate an out of control plane that Superman had safely slowed down and gently landed.

It felt like a blink of an eye but suddenly Dan was a part of the small circle of civilians that Superman interacts with daily.

[raynewolferune]

DC x DP Prompt: Bruce is bad at emoting but at least ghosts are empathic (too bad bat kids are not)

Was reading Twincognito on AO3 when I stumbled across this gem again:

~

" “Danny, Tim. I was just…checking in. Is everything alright?” Curse his inability to make meaningful conversation when it wasn’t a life or death situation.

They glanced at each other and shrugged.

Then Danny hauled himself out of the bed and walked over to Bruce.

Bruce tried not to let too much excitement show on his face. "

~

Now I really want to read a story where Bruce adopts Danny post Meta trafficking and is being his usual emotionally constipated self. His kids keep getting mad at him because he's treating their new meta brother who was trafficked poorly (generally being stilted in conversation with him, walking away hurriedly mid-conversation, avoiding Danny when he's feeling really awkward, etc). They think Bruce is discriminating against Danny for being a civilian, meta, dealer's pick, but really it's just Bruce being horribly socially awkward. Danny knows this because of ghost empathy and find the whole thing hilarious. The whole thing comes to a head with the Bat Kids staging an intervention in the Bat Cave.

[softaestluv]

everyone always talks about one of the members of tf141 coming home after a particularly rough day of training on base and fucking you cruel and unforgiving… now let’s make it ghoap— as I always d

slight dubcon, mentions of aggressive sex

You were Johnny’s friends with benefits, more so benefits than friends. He texted you, more often than not, to come over, relieve a viscous ache in his core he couldn’t quite jerk away on his own.

And like a faithful friend, you always responded, for his sake, really. It’s not that you needed him, waited patiently, impatiently, for his text to come over. A short mistyped text—

‘Ned ya, birdie’

You were at his doorstep within minutes, cunt already wet from the drive over. Thinking of all the ways he would bend you in two, coax your orgasm out of you like no one ever has. Ram the shape of his cock into your walls until it took, until your poor, oversensitive walls only knew the curve of his fat cock.

Like a fucking pathetic dog trained, your pussy only knew him, only craved him. Weeped for him when he was on assignments, when your fingers weren’t fucking enough, when the dildo he bought you didn’t quite fill you the way he had, when other one night stands couldn’t even get you off the way Johnny seemed able to.

Your peaks and climaxes wrapped around his roughened finger, claimed them as his fucking own. Couldn’t get off unless it was on his fingers, tongue, or cock.

You hated it. Hated that one harsh grip of his large palm around your jaw had your panties soaked, clenching and throbbing around nothing until he would finally give you what you wanted.

These were normal days for Johnny. Ripped you in two and melted your brain into nothing but the sensory receptors linked to your clit, womb, and Johnny’s fucking cock.

But days he was tired, frustrated, infuriated with work were different. Johnny was flirtatious, charming, welcoming— graced you with enough kindness to give your aching cunt a break. Treated you with more care than a warm pussy he could take his anger out on.

Though when you were fucking Soap, the demolitions specialist; the version of himself where he hadn’t quite returned to civilian humanity, you were always left with a sore cunt, aching bones, a limp, bruises so harsh it alarmed your coworkers the next day— if you made it to work that next day.

You could barely handle one, but somewhere along the lines Johnny had invited you out with Simon. You hadn’t necessarily had intentions to sleep with Simon that night, Johnny was more than fucking enough, even when he was wasted. But maybe Johnny wanted it to happen, coaxed you with soft words and sweet promises.

Ended the night with tears in your eyes as Simon stuffed you full from behind, Johnny’s warm palm cupping your jaw as he fucked your mouth leisurely, cooed soft praises down at you for being such a good girl, taking both of them so well.

Then, Simon’s presence just became an expectation. The texts between Johnny and you became a group chat between the three of you. Simon’s short and curt texts the invite to Johnny’s flat more often than not.

It was great, amazing— every other cliche word in the book. They seemed more in-tune to your body than you did. Enjoyed every moment split between the both of them.

That was before the both of them came home grumpy, angry, pent up. Needed to expel their frustrations in ways only your spongy cunt could provided. It was difficult to deal with Johnny on his own, but involving Simon in the picture, the man who was the picture of a brute, nearly had you passing out.

You were sobbing into Simon’s neck, the larger man fucking ruthlessly, unforgiving into your cunt, arms banded under your knees. Johnny behind you, slamming into your ass with synchronized strokes it had your mouth watering, body limp between them.

You hadn’t even made it past Johnny’s hallway, the two of them had you pinned against the wall in seconds. Bullied themselves into your holes without a care. You were already babbling, body already bruising under their tight grip, hadn’t even been more than 10 minutes since you walked through the door, and their torment hadn’t even really started for the night.

But, ‘Aye, ye can handle it, can’t ye, hen?’

[salvieslovenotes]

Mirror Mirror

vi x reader, 18+ themes!!

Vi receives a nude from you for the first time and... freaks out a little

(a/n: i haven't written anything like this before, please be gentle!!)

Vi loves the way your relationship is going. She's never taken it this slow before; her relationships in the past have all been about diving head-first, but this, with you, it feels different. She really, really likes you. She doesn't want to mess it up. And taking it slow feels good, it feels like the right thing.

She suspects she's in a bit deeper than you, afraid that it means more to her than it does for you, and so slow... yeah, that's good. Give her a bit of space, allow her to reign in the rush of feelings and want that floods her whenever she's around you.

It's new for her, not to be sure of where it's going, what's happening—but she's taking a step back, taking the cues from you. Whenever you want to take it a step further, she's more than happy to go there.

But it's also tricky, not seeing you every day when she wants to. Not being sure if you're feeling the same way. Only going on one or two dates a week, holding herself back when kissing you, afraid you'll taste the longing she can't swallow down, pull away because you don't want that. You made it very clear, you two were casual. Your relationship was supposed to be fun, and yeah—casual.

So she never mentions it, even though yeah, she wants to know if you're thinking about her, too, when you don't see each other. She wants you to be thinking about her. She wants to get little dirty texts from you, she wants to send them back. She wants to get a text and be thinking about it all day. But she respects your boundaries, and so she says nothing.

Casual is... not really how Vi feels about you.

But it's alright, she knows you haven't been treated right in the past. Been with some people who haven't been respectful, who've made it so you don't give your trust easily. And so she understands why you're hesitant about starting something serious, and she really wants to show you that she's not like the others. She would never do anything to hurt you, or make you uncomfortable.

It's a total slap in the face one morning when she's just messaged you hello like she always does and you respond... differently.

good morning love

sleep well?

She's busy pouring coffee when a moment later her phone buzzes with a new message.

Cupcake <3: Well... not so good.

Frowning, she types quickly.

oh??

Three dots appear on the screen and she waits impatiently, a little worried.

Cupcake <3: Yeah, couldn't sleep well.

Was kinda... distracted

Thinking about you

Vi stares at the last line, her heart suddenly beating hard in her chest, fast enough that her stomach clenches a little. Is this... are you doing what she thinks you're doing? For a moment she has a small panic; what if she's misinterpreted, because you two have never done anything like this before. Even your flirting is all tame, none of it overly suggestive, and what if she's got it totally wrong? What if you actually meant you were up because you were questioning the relationship. Is this you telling her you want to talk?

Now panicking in earnest, Vi glances down at her screen again where your three dots have reappeared. Wondering how to reply, she takes a sip of coffee—then promptly chokes.

Another message from you has just come through. This time, it's a photo.

A photo of you, specifically.

When Vi's finished coughing her lungs out, she grips her phone tight in both hands, staring, suddenly very certain that she was right the first time. It does not look like you're questioning the relationship.

The photo doesn't include your face, cutting off at your collarbones. Vi's gaze travels along their dip and curve, thinking of how she wants to run her tongue along that same line. You're clearly lying down in the image, rumpled sheets below your back. The lower half of the image cuts off again, just showing the elastic of your panties, and the fingers you're just slipping beneath the hem.

It's a matching set. Black lace, making the curve of your waist even sharper. Vi drinks in every pixel of the image, the way your fingers are teasing her, barely pulling the elastic of your panties as if it could snap back at any moment. She can imagine your satisfied little smile, the way your breaths would become more rapid and shallow as your hand slipped lower.

Vi lets out a shaky breath, a twinging ache of want low in her stomach. She doesn't need to move to know she's soaked her boyshorts. Pushing a hand that's trembling a little through her hair, she looks at the photo again, swallowing roughly. And shit—wait, the message is from almost ten minutes ago and she...

She has the sudden thought that you might be doing that right now, and fully just —spaces out. Gripping the counter until her knuckles are white, she closes her eyes, the picture of you blazing behind her eyelids. She thinks of the way your back would arch a little as you teased yourself, brushing a finger over your clit, bucking into your own hand. Biting your lip to stifle a moan, free hand clutching desparately at the sheets.

She still hasn't replied.

What does she even respond to something like that? Wow angel, thanks for wreaking me at eight in the morning.

Honestly, she's not really sure why this photo has... affected her so much. It's not the most explicit photo she's received from a girl, not by a long shot. Hell, some of her old hook-ups had sent full on videos and none of them had made her feel... quite like this. Shaky with the need to touch you, to have her mouth on your skin, your taste over her tongue. The desparate desire to make you hers, properly hers, someone that no one else would get to touch, to want, to have. You've barely been going out a month, and she wants it to be for always.

She's worried about leaving the message read and without a response—she doesn't want you to get the wrong impression, that it wasn't a good idea to send or worse, that she's unfazed by it.

But she just... doesn't know what to send back. In the past she's snapped responses without even thinking, quick photos of her touching herself, or maybe some at the gym, especially when she was with one girl who was particularly into her strength, but she doesn't know you well enough to know what you'd like, what would make you think of her in the way she's thinking of you—you're both still learning each other, the sex is still new. And she sort of wants...

She wants to make you feel like she does right now. She just doesn't know how.

For now she just sends a quick text, just the truth, before she can think twice about it—

fuck, angel

do you have any idea what you do to me?

—then locks her phone and religiously doesn't look at it for the rest of the day. Not that it makes a difference. Without ever opening your chat again, she's distracted. Thinking about you. Wanting you.

After work she can't take it anymore and calls Caitlyn, one of her closest friends and incidentally how you two met, as Caitlyn is also a close friend of yours.

Vi's not calling to ask for advice on nudes... but she's also not not calling to ask for advice on nudes. She and Caitlyn have been friends long enough that she's not even embarrassed about it.

"Fuck I just... I dunno what to do," she sighs. It's a little frightening, to want someone that badly, when she has no idea if you feel that strongly about her.

She's so highly strung her fingers have a tiny tremor in them even though she's only had one coffee today. Every time she thinks of that photo (which she's done approximately seven times a minute all day) her heartrate picks up, heat inching up her neck. She's pretty sure her cheeks have been flushed all day—though it's not particularly hot weather-wise.

She's wearing tight black jeans, her old pair full of rips she usually wears when tinkering on her bike, but it was a bad choice today because they're tight around her waist, and every time she bends or takes a seat the seam presses against her. Usually she doesn't notice, but now even that slight pressure is enough to have her biting back a whine as she thinks again about your long fingers curling under the lacy hem of your panties, the way you'd —

A soft laugh in her ear snaps her back to the present. Fuck, she needs to get it together.

"Okay, I'm gonna help you," says Caitlyn on the other end of the line, sounding vaguely amused. "But only because you're being a pathetic wet sock. Alright, you want her to want you?"

"Uh-huh," Vi mumbles, slumped over her counter top and staring moodily at the floor.

"Right, go into your bedroom."

"Okay..." Vi replies, pushing herself up off the counter and wandering through her small flat to her bedroom. "M'kay, I'm there."

"Open your wardrobe door," Caitlyn instructs, "the side with the long mirror. You still have that mirror, don't you?"

"Uh-huh," Vi says, pulling open the side of her wardrobe with the mirror attached. "Now what?"

"Now take off your shirt, and turn around. "

Having tossed her phone onto her bed, halfway out of her shirt Vi pauses, frowning. "Turn... around?"

There's an exasperated sigh from Caitlyn's end. "Yes, turn around. One-eighty. One-eight-zero. Turn around."

"So I'm... not facing the mirror?"

There's another sigh from Caitlyn. "Fuck, Vi, you useless lesbian. Yes, turn around so your back is to the mirror."

"My back?"

"Yep." There's a smirk in Caitlyn's voice when she adds, "Trust me, that's all you need to do to make her want you."

And well, Caitlyn's not wrong.

[galaghiel]

Both Jack and Maddie stared at him, speechless. Silence blanketed the lab, everything but Danny’s strangled crying, his hand pressed over the muzzle as if to hide it. No- to hold it still, to still the dozen wicked barbs that were digging into his tongue, probably ripping it with each sob.

a little sketch of @liketolaugh-writes amazing one-shot fanfic that you can read here

[susielesbianism]

[chaoticallyfluffy]

Shazam identity reveal AU where the league knew Captain Marvel was a child named Billy since day one but he stubbornly refuses to transform or tell his full name for the whole 4 years he’s been on the team and everyone’s so confused because they know like. 95% of his identity already why is he hiding this specific part?

They start thinking he’s some kind of criminal or had a dark past he’s hiding from them. They know so much about him, though. They know he’s homeless, they know he’s had bad foster homes, they know his parents died tragically and his uncle stole his inheritance. he shares everything. Everything except the one thing that would show he truly trusts them. Why? What have they done to convince him they weren’t trustworthy?

Then. He accidentally transforms back during a battle. Batman instantly scans his face with the facial scanner that’s built into his mask because he’s paranoid as hell of course he has one of those. And he sees exactly why he hid it for so long.

The tension in the air is so palpable that the entire league feels it and they look back and forth between them waiting for the bomb to drop.

Cyborg is the one who blurts it out (he IS a facial scanner)

“Your last name is BAT SON??”

Billy groans into his hands in defeat and Batman sighs, finally understanding why the secret was kept so desperately.

From then on the league refuses to call Billy anything other than Big Red Robin or just Big Robin. Robin but big. they call Batman Captain Dad at every possible opportunity. Whenever Billy does something wrong someone threatens to tell his dad on him then call Batman. The robins last names may as well not exist because from then on they are only ever called Damian Bat-son or Red Hood Bat-son or Stephanie Bat-daughter, except for Red Robin who’s called Little Red Robin or, if they’re feeling brave, the Little Red Cheese. The bat children and Billy’s nicknames become so confusing and meshed together that conversations get very confusing and the names just become interchangeable. The press is convinced that Captain Marvel is Batman’s secret love child within a week.

It gets so chaotic so fast, no one knows how this happened but names mean nothing anymore and Batman is getting a DNA test. So much opportunity for chaos!

[liketolaugh-writes]

It always kind of bothers me when people say that they like Bad Fenton Parents because 'it's just angstier.' There are flavors of angst, you know? Betrayal and grief and false hope and distrust and even recovery are all different flavors of angst, completely divorced from the intensity of it.

Like, I'm sorry, is it... not angst for Danny to spend fourteen years completely certain of his parents' unconditional love, only to have it cut out from under him the moment he becomes a half-ghost, leaving him floundering?

Is it not angst for Danny to grapple desperately with the knowledge that his parents love him to the ends of the universe and the certainty that his parents hate him with cruelty he didn't previously know they were capable of, and have no idea which one outweighs the other? For him to put up with their hatred because he's so afraid of losing their love?

Is it not angsty enough for his parents to find out who he is, and instantly be crushed under the realization that they have hurt their beloved son in ways they can never make up to him? Don't you want them to cry and sob with the knowledge, have nightmares about murdering their youngest child that make them wake up screaming?

Don't get me wrong - if you like what him being neglected from childhood brings to the table, I totally get that! If you like for him to have specific trauma around being ignored, and a closer relationship with Jazz, and an incomplete childhood, that's great. Have at it.

But don't 'teehee I guess I'm just a sadist' it because you are blocking off literally sooo much nuance

[noxcheshire]

I am sick, dizzy, and can barely think but you know what would be WILD?

If the DC universe was an echo of Danny’s world. What if the continents of their planet shifted enough where Amity is now in New Jersey and had then become Gotham.

And when Danny died underneath the portal a part of his death fractured and imprinted itself into those various worlds. One of them being Gotham, where Danny’s home ironically used to be where Wayne Manor used to be.

So just imagine it, you’re coming back from patrol, grimy, sweaty, and with questionable intentions by dressing as an overgrown bat when suddenly the lights dim. It dims and brings darkness, only enough light to catch the beady marble eyes of the bats you fear.

And then electricity jumps in the middle of the room, flinging itself around like an agitated snake in wide open circles.

Everyone is backing away, some weary, some cursing, some just half way out of their own suit.

And then a child — barely as old as your youngest now, flickers to life before you, screaming and screaming, wailing in pain as the scent of burning flesh mingles into the air. You can see the boy, black hair and blue eyes that underneath the bright light that burns them is causing black to turn white, and blue to turn green.

The electricity crackles and when the boy is about the drop, limp, certainly lifeless, he vanishes as if nothing had ever been there.

But he comes back, he always comes back, in the moment of calm and in the moment of despair, echoing that painful wailing of death.

It’s so wrong.

It’s very, very wrong.

It didn’t even matter anymore why the boy showed up, only that this moment of pain continues to haunt the cave of heroes.

Continuously haunting, even as some whispered apologizes when the boy appeared. Continuously haunting, even as some provided songs of comfort when the boy appeared. Continuously haunting, even as stories of Gotham are told and promises (though uncertain and flimsy at best) are spoken to the wailing boy who always drops fast and disappears just as quickly.

Always, it was the same.

Until one day it wasn’t.

The electricity crackled like it always did. A spark, and then a calamity of light. And the boy would be there, uncurling himself into a tense position as he would wail.

But not this time.

Instead the boy curled himself in the air, calm as can be, almost as if he were sleeping. Even the electricity that they have learned to dance away from was calm, gentle, like ocean waves.

And when the electricity vanished, the boy did not, instead dropping to the floor where Dick was quick to catch him, grunting in preparation of weight only to show alarm at how thin the boy truly was.

On that face that has haunted them all for months is just a boy, sleeping, and scarred. A boy breathing very slow, slower than what they would like, but here in the physical realm with them.

Dick brushed back bangs of black hair, and slowly, ever so slowly, glazed blue eyes stared back.

[whump-in-the-closet]

Ummm something with the team finally finding whumpee and untying them.

Whumpee repeating "I didn't break, I swear I didn't, I didn't tell them anything, I didn't," while sobbing.

It's true, whumpee didn't tell them anything, but all that caretaker cares about now is trying to calm whumpee down before they bleed out even more.

A Messy Rescue

whumpee slumped over until caretaker grabs their face, desperate to see if they're still conscious

wide eyes and split lip-- a flash of recognition-- and before caretaker can assure them that its all going to be okay, whumpee panics

"I didn't say anything, I didn't, please you have to--" their sentences fragment as they gasp for air. "You have to believe me!"

At first, the team is horrified that this is whumpee's recognition. They feel sick. One teammate turns away, unable to stand it. Unable to watch. It's wrong.

Caretaker snaps out of it first. "Help me cut them down!" Then, they notice whumpee's blood drenching through their once-white shirt

As the team works to free whumpee's wrists from the shackles, Caretaker frantically tries to assess the damage. But whumpee keeps thrashing, jerking out of reach and flinching at their touch.

Alternating between, "I didn't say anything!" and "I'm sorry, I'm so sorry- please don't-- please don't hurt me!"

The teammates all have these grim expressions, mouths in a thin line

A fluttering horror is embedded in caretaker's chest-- this is so much worse than they could have imagined

Even better if Leader, with real pain in their voice, says "We have to keep them quiet."

Caretaker pulls away for a second, hands half-full of bandages. "What're you saying?"

Leader breaks through the last bit of metal and whumpee slumps to the floor, shivering uncontrollably. Caretaker places one hand protectively on their back, rubbing up and down. They don't stop crying. Leader looks away. "Gag them. Or get them to shut up. We don't need them giving away our position to Whumper"

Carrying a gagged and sobbing whumpee out of the building, caretaker can't look them in the eyes. They keep whispering how sorry they are, but they have no idea if whumpee can even hear them or cares. It feels like betrayal, but they can only hope it was worth it.

"We'll get you better, I promise."