rose-writes-for-march

[rose-writes-for-march]

Not that kind of bleeding

Based on this post here.

[rose-writes-for-march]

March for More: Not so Markless After All

MASTERPOST

For as long as Bruce could remember, he'd never had a soulmate. There were no loops or twisting vines inked on skin, no murmur in the back of his head, or a timer on his wrist. By all evidence found, he was alone.

It wasn't anything too tragic. The Markless is a small but welcoming community, dedicated to spreading awareness that not everyone needed or wanted such a bond and Bruce liked being a part of it. However, he couldn't shake the disappointment even with the rationalization that a soulmate would only complicate his nighttime activities.

Which is why, in the middle of a meeting to prepare for the council with the King of another realm, Batman was shocked to see a red string on his finger. It hadn't been there a moment ago when he was talking to Superman, appearing in the moment he'd turned to address Flash, then solidifying as he caught sight of it.

He knew, okay, that the red string was rare. That of all the bonds one could have, a red string was equally the luckiest and unluckiest bond to have. Because if you weren't close—approximately 50 miles at most—then you can't see it. You could go your entire life thinking you're Markless then all of a sudden your soulmate takes a vacation or a road trip. Like Bruce did.

Except, Bruce is in space. In space, where no one knows about or can get to without having prior authorization. So who the hell is his soulmate and why are they getting closer.

In the time it took Batman to find the direction of the string, the rest of the room had gone tense at the Dark Knights' sudden intensity. So, when a body casually floats through the walls of the Watchtower, the heroes are all prepared to fight.

"Ah— oops, didn't mean to spook ya'll!" A midwestern voice accompanied by an undertone of whispering that Batman can't make out calls from the body. A man, with white hair floating like clouds and a face pale like snow with only startling Lazarus green eyes to accentuate. Batman is intrigued, wary, and uneasy all at once.

"Who are you?" He calls out, eyes avoiding the red he knows is there. The man startles, eyes shooting across the room to find Batman, then stills. Oh, he hadn't noticed, then.

There's a long stretch of silence before a laugh falls from the mans lips—don't look at them, don't—as he removes himself from the wall. "Oh, this is hilarious," the man calls out, "I can't believe this is why Clockwork wanted me to hear you guys out, that fucker."

He shakes himself off and now that he's standing— floating upright, Batman can see the man wears an outfit of black and white, a bodysuit that looks eerily like a hazmat with a black cape overtop. The cape, as it flairs out behind the man, reveals a void of black that is splattered in the expanse of swirling stars and galaxies.

"I'm Phantom, King of the Infinite Realms and all that jazz. And you, poor unfortunate soul, are stuck with me it seems."

It sounded like a threat to Batman's hard-wired brain, but in the King's sickly green eyes was a sense of trepidation. The council had been planned with much of the same feeling—like the King didn't know if he could trust the word of humans from a world that was actively hunting and experimenting on his kind.

Bruce, in some strange way, thought it reminded him of his kids. Of Dick, who had lost his parents and home, and had found a place with Bruce to heal. Of Jason, who was so bright and so good, but couldn't find what he needed with Bruce. Of Tim, hardworking and desperate to save anyone he could, no matter what. Of Damian, angry and confused that Bruce wanted him to be a kid for once.

"Hm." Batman can feel the smile on his face, can feel the stares of his confused comrades, but that doesn't matter. King Phantom is another in a long line of people that need Batman's help—what right does he have to walk away now.

[rose-writes-for-march]

March for More: Names

MASTERPOST

"...Do you need a pad or tampon or something?"

Danny, Jason's roommate, blinks and sputters in confusion from where he sits on the floor in a pool of blood, "Wh-what??"

Jason pauses, wondering if he had been wrong about Danny wearing a binder around the dorm, but no. He and Danny had been roommates for a while and Jason knew a binder when he saw one. So, why is he... oh shit.

"Shit, are you bleeding out right now?" Jason fumbles to take off his jacket, trying to hurry into the dorm so he can help. "Just- wait a sec, I've got a first aid kit."

Danny only stares, a hand pressed tight to his ribs where he's either been cut or shot and shit, Jason needs to see it to know what he's working with. "I- you don't need to-" Danny tries to say as Jason settles in front of him, but Jason only sets down the kit and glares until his roommate moves his hands.

"Shit," Jason hisses as blood begins leaking out of what is clearly not a stab or gunshot wound but something fucking gruesome and... Holy shit, did someone torture him, what the fuck? Jason shakes off the thought, grabbing antiseptic and stitches and gauze—fuck this is gonna suck.

As he works, Danny sits still, practically lifeless, and if it weren't for the occasional hiss or flinch, Jason would think he'd completely disassociated. And if it weren't for the blood on his hands and the gasping body below him, Jason would probably already be out the door. Searching, hunting, killing whoever the fuck did this.

What Jason is stitching up right now isn't just typical Gotham street crime, isn't a stick-up gone wrong or a hit and run or a gang war, no. This is intentional, like being tied down in a crumbling building and beaten and broken and teased with the salvation of passing out. Jason would know.

He shakes his head, this isn't the same. Danny, sitting in front of him and breathing shakily, is alive. He's alive, and whoever did this won't be soon enough.

"Names. Give me their fucking names, Danny."

[rose-writes-for-march]

March for More: Are you... stuck?

MASTERPOST

Danny giggles, feeling the sand scrape against his underbelly as he shifts his tail slightly. He’s cramped where he lays under a reef with his fins all bunched up on the rocks. Moving removes only a smidge of his discomfort, but Danny refuses to move, not until he’s won his game.

“DANNY!” The yell calls out again, closer than it’s been in hours, and Danny has to cover his mouth when he sees a black and blue tail dart by his hiding spot. “Where are you, little one? It’s late; please come out!”

Danny thinks Dick sounds too worried for what is just a simple game of hide n’ seek. Though, the older mer is always worried for the silliest things. Just remembering how frantically Dick swims after him whenever he gets too far brings another, louder giggle bubbling up his throat.

For his laughter, Danny is faced with the black and blue tail just outside the opening. “Danny? Baby, was that you? Are you here?” Dick’s tail jerks and sways wildly as he swims around the coral, trying to find Danny’s spot. Danny forgets everything about being quiet to laugh after the third time he sees Dick swim by without seeing him. “Danny, this isn’t funny, please. We have to go!”

Danny still laughs, but he slides every so slightly forward, wincing as his tail catches on the rock. “You’re so silly! I’m right here, see?” He sticks his hand out right as Dick passes by, waving it with a giggle.

“Oh, baby, there you are! You had me worried sick, do you even know how long its been? You missed lunch and everyone has been searching for hours! How did you even get out this far…” Dick grumbles and whines, tail flicking in idle worry as he peers into Danny’s hiding spot. He pauses as he sees the conditions Danny has found himself in. “Are you… stuck?”

Danny huffs, “Of course not! I could’ve left at any point.”

“Right, okay, prove it.”

Danny glares at Dick’s self-assured smile and wiggles his tail, pressing his hands against the rock to push himself forward. “Ouch!” He hisses, relaxing his body to stop the pain in his back. Looking back, he can see a sharp protrusion of rock pressed into his back and wrapped in his fin from all his shuffling.

He can feel the whine in his throat and the answering coo from Dick. “Oh, baby, its okay. Let me help.” He reaches in as Danny ducks his head, gently untangling his fin. “You’ve got to be more careful, Danny. Your fins are still growing, they need gentle care or you won’t be able to swim with all the big mers one day.”

“I know…” he pouts, purring softly as Dick easily slips him out of his hiding spot. “But I was being chased, I didnt know what else to do…”

“Chased? That damn shark again, right? I’ll tell Bruce to deal with it, though maybe Jason is a better option…” Dick hums and haws as he holds Danny to his underbelly, swimming gently forward. Danny knows they’re heading back to the den, can smell his family as they get deeper into their territory.

The little mer lets his eyes close, tired from the exertion and long day. “You’ve gotta stay awake, baby. You still need to eat, remember?” Dick laughs softly, running his claws through Danny’s hair. “Oh, whatever. Sleep, I’ll wake you up once we’re back home.”

[rose-writes-for-march]

March for More: An itch...

MASTERPOST

As the CEO of Wayne Industries, Tim Drake has a responsibility to keep an eye on the competition. Which, for the most part, means meetings and galas and back-and-forth emails. Honestly, he doesn't even do that much personally due to the efforts of his secretary and other employees.

Though, reluctantly, Tim’s been keeping a very close eye on his newest… rival in the business. The Godson of one Vladimir Masters of Vladco; Daniel Fenton. The company photo of him was a worrying sight on its own, without considering how strange it was as the only photo Tim could find of the guy. No school photos, online presence, or signs of life other than his place as Masters godson and future owner of Vladco. The guy hadn’t made much noise, nothing big or worthy enough for Tim’s attention, and yet… well. Tim had an itch. A gut feeling.

So, he stalked researched Daniel’s life, compiled a too small file, and invited the boy and his guardian to a gala. Tim couldn’t say it was a good idea—it wasn’t even a fully formed idea by the time he hit send on the email to Vladco—but he found it better to be hasty than to find himself unprepared when shit hit the fan.

The first thing Tim noticed when the two arrived at the gala was Daniel's appearance. If Daniel had looked sickly in his Vladco photo, he looked dead in real life. The second thing he noticed were the hunched shoulders, the fisted hands, the lowered eyes, and the... fear that encompassed him as he was forced to stay by his godfather's side throughout the party.

Cass sent him a look and he nodded to show he was on the same page. If Tim didn't need her help to see it, either Daniel was bad at hiding it or too tired to try. Mind made up, he figured it was about time to talk to the recipients of his personal invitation.

As he approached, it didn't take long for Masters to notice him. Tim watched as he squeezed his godson's shoulder—too hard if the wince Daniel gave was any sign, though if Masters noticed, he didn't seem to care for any discomfort he caused. "Ah, if it isn't the CEO himself. A pleasure, Mr. Drake-Wayne. We thank you for the invitations, don't we, Daniel."

The words must have carried more weight than Tim knew of, for Daniel winced in blatant pain but forced himself to look up and nod at Tim anyway. It was a shaky thing; hardly a nod more than a harsh jerk of his head, and if Tim wasn't worried before, he was now.

"A pleasure indeed, Mr. Masters. I must admit I have some... ulterior motives for your invitations, if you don't mind me being so bold?" Tim laughed, lifting the drinks he'd brought from the catering and offering one to Masters.

Masters took it happily, though he didn't drink. "I am no stranger to boldness; after all, my Daniel is a spitfire of a boy. Do tell."

If the guy hadn't been standing right there looking like all of fifty pounds soaking wet and a wrong step away from finding out what a concussion is—though he may already have one—Tim might have thought Masters was talking of someone else.

Tim grinned nonetheless, giving a subtle signal behind his back where he knew two of his family were watching. "Fantastic! You see, I've been working on things behind the scenes of WI and... I wouldn't mind some of Vladco's particular expertise."

At this, Daniel's head shot up with a look of absolute horror, and Tim was startled back as he looked between them. Masters squeezed his shoulder again, a warning no doubt, and Daniel reluctantly looked away again. Masters laughed it off before Tim could even question, "Ah, don't mind him. He's been feeling unwell, is all."

Tim hummed, taking it as a chance to inspect Daniel without it being weird. The boy was haggard, his eyes were wide, and he seemed to be whispering to himself though Tim couldn't hear more than the air escaping his lips. "Maybe he should go sit down or get some water? This conversation would be better without... distractions, anyway."

Masters seemed reluctant, but with a look between the two, his hand lifted from Daniel's shoulder and with it some of the tension. "Go. Do not stray from my sight; I worry." Masters said, eyes narrow and voice a warning despite what Tim thought was supposed to be care.

They watched as Daniel walked away, shaky-footed and slow, but as soon as he made it to the catering table, Tim dove back into the conversation.

Slowly but surely as the conversation continued, Tim carried them further and further from Daniel, subsequently turning them so that Tim was facing the catering and Masters back was to it. Once Masters was fully turned away, Tim signaled the others.

Tim mentally apologized to Daniel for sicking his siblings on him when he was clearly sick, but he wasn't too sorry if it meant getting him away from what was clearly his abuser. Though... it felt too easy. The itch was back; had never really left.

Something was still wrong here.

[rose-writes-for-march]

March for More Masterpost

DPxDC

Little Prince An Itch... Are You... Stuck? Names Not So Markless After All

Danny Phantom

TBA TBA TBA TBA TBA

Hermitcraft

TBA TBA TBA TBA TBA

Life Series

TBA TBA TBA TBA TBA

Batman

TBA TBA TBA TBA TBA

One Piece

TBA TBA TBA TBA TBA

EXTRAS

TBA

[rose-writes-for-march]

March for More: Little Prince

MASTERPOST

If there was anything Phantom hated the most about being crowned king—

“Your Eternity, it is with great respect that I summon you here today for a formal audience.” Ra’s al Ghul says, bent over in a formal bow from where he stands just beyond the barrier of the summoning circle.

—it was this bastard.

“al Ghul.” He greets with a scowl, “What a surprise. I thought you might’ve gone and Ended already, given how long it's been since you bothered me last.”

The man jerks upright from his bow, a frown on his face though Phantom knows it isn't directed at him, and waves a hand behind him in a 'come here' gesture. Phantom follows the movement, spotting a boy in... armor(?) being forcibly escorted forward. Phantom is almost impressed by the fight the boy is giving, having at least ten men trying to so much as move him beside the old man.

"Ra's. We've talked about this, haven't we? I don't take sacrifices." Phantom growls, voice edging into ghost speak at the blatant disrespect the old man is showing. "I should kill you for bringing one before me—"

"Apologies, Your Eternity, for interrupting, but this boy is no sacrifice." Ra's cuts him off, body angled to glare at the boy while keeping the King in his sights. He moves his hand slightly, and the escorts reluctantly back off. As soon as one man's hold slackens, the boy growls and forces the rest off of him with an impressive efficiency. As the fight continues, Ra's addresses the king again, "This is my grandson, Damian al Ghul, I trust you remember him?"

And, unfortunately, Phantom does.

It wasn't that long ago for Phantom, thanks to time shenanigans. A summoning not unlike this one, when Phantom was freshly crowned and still finding his footing, had seen Phantom in this very room before this very boy—only many years younger than he currently is. Phantom is as livid now as he was then when presented with a kid and a marriage proposal.

"Is this some joke to you, Ra's al Ghul? Surely you understand your offense." Phantom can feel his features distorting, fingers blackening into claws, eyes thinning into slits, crown flaring from a soft borealis to a piercing ice. "My demands were simple, were they not? My patience is not as eternal as my reign, and should you offend me further, it will become as nonexistent as you'll find yourself."

"Your Eternity—"

"Your demands were met," Damian interrupts, standing tall under the full force of Phantom's misplaced ire as his eyes whip toward him. He stands beside his grandfather willingly, despite the earlier fuss, looking much more put together than the disgrace beside him.

He seems to have straightened out his suit, and at his feet sit the majority of his escorts, all properly knocked out. Phantom considers him for a moment, "Met, huh? And how is that? I remember my demands were to never be bothered with such a thing again, and yet here you both stand."

Ra's seems properly subdued under Phantom's ire as he always is by the end of their talks. It's gotten almost fun to watch the man back down when he knows he's lost. But Damian, for some Ancients-damned reason, seems to want to force the issue. "I admit you're right; the demands of that summoning were met. However, the requests of this summoning have changed."

Now curious and somewhat impressed by the boy, Phantom lets his features fall back into uncanny rather than monstrous. Plus, he is kind of required to hear the requests, no matter how much he'd rather skip it and get this over with. "Fine, let's get this over with, I suppose."

Damian bows and Ra's follows his lead a second later. Once they are both in position, Damian speaks, "Great King of Eternity, Savior of the Dead and Forgotten, I offer my body and soul to you in full trust and respect." He lifts his head, meeting Phantom's as he continues the formal spiel, "Allow to me the honor of your name and title, the right to you and your people, and your trust so that I may ask of you a favor in return."

Phantom can feel the proposal just beyond his skin, like the whisper of wind playing in his hair and spelling out shivers on his spine. It is an honest proposal, proper etiquette and intention behind every word. It makes Phantom even more curious.

"You must be desperate or stupid," he says, not yet accepting the whispers on his skin, not until he knows the favor, "You are no longer a child and are now doing this willingly, or as willing as you can. Tell me your wants, and I will consider."

Damian fully raises from the bow, Ra's doing the same before walking forward to take Phantoms attention. "Your Eternity, I wish to—"

Phantom holds up a hand, "I did not ask you. You'd be a fool to think I'd let you ask me of anything, vermin, regardless of the summoning rules." He turns back to Damian, offering a hand to tell him to continue where he was so rudely cut off.

Damian glares at Ra's as he sulks, but doesn't pay him any mind as he steps forward and meets Phantom's eyes again. "I fight under Lady Gotham's name to protect her and her people from those that would cause harm." Oh, Phantom knows of them. Lady Gotham's Knights, a famous bunch among the ghosts of Gotham, for good reason. "Recently, she has come under attack from a foe that neither my allies nor I can defeat. For giving myself to you, I would ask you to rid of this foe."

Phantom almost laughs. Such a small favor, such a silly thing to ask for a practical god of the underworld. He lets his mouth tilt into a grin, "So the answer is desperate, huh. I do not accept." With an easy motion, Phantom removes the proposal from his skin and with it the binding of the summoning.

Damian seems to lose the composure he's kept such good control of, a deep glare on his face and a growl splitting his lips. Before he can get too angry, Phantom speaks again, "I will help Lady Gotham without the need of your sacrifice. She is one of mine and has claimed you, Little Prince, which makes you mine as well. Now, what am I fighting?"

[rose-writes-for-march]

March for More: Poll 7.2

Poll 7.1: Romantic/Platonic

The TOP FOUR winners from this will be mixed with one of the winners from the first post to make a one-shot.

[rose-writes-for-march]

March for More: Poll 7.1

Poll 7.2: Main Idea

I'll choose the TOP TWO winners here and mix them with the results from the second poll to make a one-shot.

[rose-writes-for-march]

March for More: Poll 6.1

Poll 6.2: Main Idea

I'll choose the TOP TWO winners here and mix them with the results from the second poll to make a one-shot.

[rose-writes-for-march]

March for More: Poll 6.2

Poll 6.1: Romantic/Platonic

The TOP FOUR winners from this will be mixed with one of the winners from the first post to make a one-shot.

[rose-writes-for-march]

March for More: Poll 5.2

Poll 5.1: Romantic/Platonic

The TOP FOUR winners from this will be mixed with one of the winners from the first post to make a one-shot.

[rose-writes-for-march]

March for More: Poll 5.1

Poll 5.2: Main Idea

I'll choose the TOP TWO winners here and mix them with the results from the second poll to make a one-shot.

[rose-writes-for-march]

March for More: Poll 4.1

Poll 4.2: Main Idea

I'll choose the TOP TWO winners here and mix them with the results from the second poll to make a one-shot.

[rose-writes-for-march]

March for More: Poll 4.2

Poll 4.1: Romantic/Platonic

The TOP FOUR winners from this will be mixed with one of the winners from the first post to make a one-shot.

[rose-writes-for-march]

lil update

As a result of realizing i dont have any impulse control, ive changed my mind. I will be writing the TOP TWO voted on the romantic/platonic polls + the TOP FOUR voted on the main idea polls.

This will surely not have any consequences.

[rose-writes-for-march]

March for More: Poll 3.2

Poll 3.1: Romantic/Platonic

The TOP FOUR winners from this will be mixed with one of the winners from the first post to make a one-shot.