#therefore Alfred is a god

[wildrosesayshigh3]

Alfred is the Grand Prince of the Infinite Realms

Alfred Pennyworth is a redeemed Dan, who is using his time as a butler as a break before he had to be grand prince of the infinite Realms.

[frownyalfred]

In the Grant Morrison run, Bruce huffs his own sweaty shirts before having a rematch fight with a bane-cop-batman so he can have alpha male energy to throw him off.

I am not kidding. This is not a bit of metaphorical. This is very literal.

(adding your image in from the other ask)

I have a lot of questions. and thoughts. but also, how likely is it that modern-day Bruce would be taking insane amounts of HGH/T/anabolic steroids? either way, his scent is probably wildly "alpha" if that's what he wants to call it LOL.

[ranmagender]

Public Domain Day 2023

Happy Public Domain Day everyone. This year some stuff became public domain so like the last few years imma list some of the notable things.

These are works that are entering the public domain in 2023 and therefore can be used by anyone in any way as their copyright is expiring. If a work is listed here know it applies to the creators entire body of work (except in the USA)

In Europe and other life of author + 70 years areas:

Maya the Bee by Waldemar Bonsels

Goodnight Moon by Margaret Wise Brown

The Underdogs by Mariano Azuela

The Daughter of Time by Josephine Tay

Caspar Milquetoast comic strips by H. T. Webster

The Museum of Eterna's Novel by Macedonio Fernández

In Japan & New Zealand and other life of author + 50 years areas:

The works of Nobel laureate Yasunari Kawabata

In the USA (works made before 1975 have a 95 year long copyright)

All media published in 1927. Some notable among these are...

The Lodger: A Story of the London Fog, Alfred Hitchcock's first thriller.

The Jazz Singer, the first sound film

The original three stories of the Hardy Boys

The last Allan Quatermain book, Allan and the Ice Gods

The last two Sherlock Holmes stories (now sherlock holmes is public domain worldwide with no strings, suck it Arthur Conan Doyle estate)

Everywhere

In September 2023, comic book writer Bill Willingham intentionally released the Fables intellectual property into the public domain

There's of course more but these are just some of the highlights, go forth and explore. You can find a lot of this on Archive.org or Gutenberg.org

[suzukiblu]

Ask game: alien

"He showed me some stuff from Krypton," Superboy says, and that grin turns just a little bit shy and soft and somehow even more distracting than usual. "And I, uh–and he gave me something, too."

"What did he give you?" Tim asks, praying to God that the answer is "an emergency number" or "an allowance that can cover a semi-decent Metropolis apartment" or "an offer to live literally anywhere but Cadmus, including in the thirtieth century or on a hostile alien planet or inside an active volcano". He's technically an atheist, so the praying thing is probably moot, but times of desperation are times of desperation.

"A name," Superboy says, and his grin widens. "Like, you know, a real one."

Tim might hate Superman, he thinks. That might actually be a thing now.

Yeah, he's definitely going supervillain after Bruce dies and doesn't need an emotional support sidekick anymore. Better start stocking up on the kryptonite.

"That's great," he says with a very carefully not-forced smile instead of anything more along the lines of "wait, you've been alive and active as a superhero for all this time and no one ever actually named you?!" Superboy would probably take it the wrong way, not in the least because that never actually occurred to him as being a thing before. Like–he really did just assume Superboy was keeping a lid on whatever his real name was for personal reasons or Superman reasons or something. "Are you allowed to tell me it, or is that a no-go?"

"Oh, yeah," Superboy says with a sheepish laugh. "It's like, a Kryptonian name? Not like a secret identity one. It's, uh, Kon-El."

Of course it's not even a damn secret identity, Tim thinks in absolute frustration and abject loathing. Of course not! Why would it be?! Fuck forbid!

"I like it," he says, because he lies to Batman and therefore there is no fucking way that he's going to let Superboy–Kon–see any sign whatsoever of the metaphorical 9.9 on the Richter scale that is currently happening in his psyche. "It suits you."

"You think?" Kon grins all the wider. Tim can't even calm down enough to want to kiss him, except in the sense that he always wants to kiss him.

"I do," he says, and smiles at him.

Kon smiles back.

Tim hates everything. All the things. There is nothing that Tim doesn't hate right now, except maybe Alfred's snickerdoodles because he might be having a nervous breakdown but he's not, like, criminally insane or whatever.

Yet.

[devilfic]

Reading right place, right time and found myself kicking my feet and twirling my hair at the thought of Bruce writing about the surgeon in his diary after their first encounter . 🥺😂 (Sorry, I’m being silly) 😭 but I really do wonder what he wrote. Would he have added any personal thoughts of his own or keep it about his routine? 🤔 sorry for this weird message. I love your writing 💕

this is not weird at ALL. I've been itching to talk about this! unlike in where two are joined, I'm trying not to tell any of it from bruce's perspective so that the reader can be immersed in their own pov. therefore,,, this gives me an excuse :)

when bruce gets home, he is not thinking about his diary.

in an uncharacteristic turn of events, he puts his body first and passes out on the couch in the terminus. he gets about an hour or two of sleep, something he deprived himself of in your apartment out of fear of letting down his guard.

he sort of jolts awake after that second hour, thinking that he had fallen asleep in your home. his chest heaves as he gathers his surroundings, registers the pain in his side, unaware of the hour. it takes him a few minutes to collect himself and then he's pulling off his suit piece by piece, assessing the damage at his desk. to his surprise, your stitches have held together pretty well. he pops a few main meds and pulls out his journal.

Wednesday, November 16th.

I made a miscalculation with the smugglers. The weapons they're moving are military grade, and from the communications I was able to intercept, they've got several buyers I can't afford to let get their hands on these guns.

I managed to put a dent in their inventory tonight, but for every shipment I hit, there are two more I miss. I can't be everywhere at once, which means I can't afford to lose momentum. I can't let up.

I sustained injuries from tonight including one gunshot wound. I was able to remove the bullet once I found somewhere safe to retreat, but the wound was worse than I anticipated and I struggled to keep the bleeding at bay. I made another mistake and intended on finding a place to rest—a nearby apartment I assumed to be empty—where I could at least stop the bleeding and send Alfred my location. But someone was there. Before I could escape, I passed out from the blood loss.

I must've been out for a few minutes. This stranger could have unmasked me, and I'm still not entirely sure they hadn't. Regardless, they were a doctor. They managed to stitch me up, and after some convincing, I rested in their apartment for the next three hours. I had no intention to, but I'm certain I wouldn't be writing this now if I hadn't done so. If it wasn't for them, I would be

I was desperate. I realize that now. I put myself and potentially someone else in danger. Someone who chose to help me. Their intentions seemed innocent, but I need to know for sure. I can't make any more mistakes. I won't.

after that, I think bruce just throws himself into researching you. he starts with gotham general, looks for all the surgeons, eventually finds your name, and he falls down this hole of finding out whatever he can about you: your age, where you went to school, your relatives and past jobs. he wants to know that this freak twist of fate was just that: a twist, an abnormality.

alfred finds him like that, ready to retrieve him for the tour (which bruce definitely forgot about). he's about to make a comment like "you're up early" and then he sees gauze taped to bruce's side and god, if alfred doesn't have steam blowing out of his ears by the time he's done yelling at him.

and later, when he's standing in front of you as bruce wayne, he's caught off guard again because what are the odds that you could save his life as some freak twist of fate once, only to have him run into you again not hours later?

and you're... whip-smart. kind. he hears you talk about the work you do and he can see how much you care about the people of this city. it's not in his nature to trust easily but when he gets home later that day he is poring into everything he can about you, searching for the chink in your armor. there must be something. maybe he's missed it or you're good at hiding but all of this feels too good to be true.

it takes him a few days after he finds your file for him to think it over. the stitches have held up. he's replacing his gauze in the bathroom and asks alfred if he thinks it's the right call.

"are you certain there's no one else?"

"a vigilante doctor?" bruce laughs, stretching his spine. "how would I take applications for that, exactly?"

"they're a civilian."

"they saved my life."

alfred holds his tongue, nearly chokes on it, "you must be prepared for this not to work out. or worse. you may never pick up that cowl again."

bruce stares at his hands, scarred from his long nights. he doesn't remember much after passing out, only the split second of finality and the regret that followed... until you brought him back, "I've already made peace with that."

[breesperez139]

Dc x Dp Prompt #5

Demon Twin AU except Damian never had a blood son phase:

Damian would like to start saying he is not at fault for this….miscommunication. Truly, how was he to know sharing the same blood as Jasmine and Danyal would make them “siblings”? Not once has anyone mentioned such absurd claims. He has never and will never treat either of the two the way he would Richard or any of his other siblings, but apparently sharing the same donors when being created automatically makes people siblings.

Worse, father is upset at him and mother for “hiding away” two of his “children” from him. Richard and Thomas will not stop staring at him. Todd, Brown, and Drake will not stop laughing. Cassandra has not stopped looking at his body language since this whole encounter started. Alfred is giving him his patented disappointed face he oh so hates but what is he to do?

Damian was not hiding anything or anyone. Jasmine and Danyal have not nor will they ever be his siblings. They are the children of Jack and Maddie Fenton just as Richard and the rest of them are Bruce’s children. Blood has nothing to do with family. They are at best “god-siblings” or “cousins” if father refuses to believe they are simply childhood companions.

There is barely a hint of emotion as father purses his lips while his siblings continue looking on at him in disbelief. Damian is not understanding why they are having trouble comprehending such simple logic. It is common sense to know that siblings are the children at least one of your parents have raised other than yourself. Parents are the people who raise you. Talia raised him therefore she is his mother. He lives with Bruce who is now raising him and therefore he is his father.

Neither Talia nor Bruce raised Jasmine or Danyal, therefore they are not siblings. It is merely coincidence that he shared blood with both Bruce and Talia. After all, every time he’s visited Amity Park, most children look nothing like their parents. How can it not be coincidence when it is clearly far more normal to raise children who don’t share an ounce of blood with you, than those who do.

How can it not be normal when Jack Fenton took Jasmine in so easily knowing he didn’t share any dna with her? Even more so with Danyal who doesn’t share even a drop of blood with either Jack or Maddie. Look at yourself father. Out of all your children, only one shares your dna. Do not try and pin this on Damian for being the only sensible person in this family. Blood siblings, ha, don’t make him laugh.

[rboooks]

Do you have any good DCxDP fic recs?

OMG, DO I?!

I just wanted to let you know that I only read fics on Ao3 now, so all my recs on on that website.

Below the read-more are the links and the fics summaries, and in the parentheses are, in my own words, what the fic is about.

A Second Life by Die_Erlkonigin6083

Summary: He wakes up with no memories. He knows things, but he doesn’t know why. Who is he? And how did he get here?

(Danny wakes up without memories and is found in a CANVAS lab. He is de-age, with various DNA mixed into him. The majority of his DNA donor? Dick Grayson. Naturally, Dick takes Danny in as his son)

2. The Curse of Sight by PorcelanaRota

Summary: When Wes Weston meets Tim Drake-Wayne, the dots start connecting. And those dots form a Bat.

(Wes Weston (a fandom-made character who is the only person that realizes Danny and Phantom are the same people.) goes to Gotham to spend the summer with his mom. He ends up as a Wayne Intern, meets Tim, and clocks him for the bat he is on sight. It's a Wes/Tim fic!)

3. The Misadventures of Cosplay Man by Shynnohwen

Summary: After accidentally getting launched through a natural rift and stuck in an alternate universe, Danny decides to help the local heroes while waiting to get picked up. But he doesn’t do it as Phantom or Fenton, oh no. He doesn’t want either of his identities to get mixed up in all this nonsense and traced back to him. So what does he do? Crappy cosplay.

(Danny gets stranded in an alternate universe, so he chooses to have fun and save local heroes as cosplay versions of them. He goes out of his way to make the cosplay as terrible as possible. Each hero he saves makes different terrible conclusions based on the worrying stuff he says. They all want to adopt him)

4. The curious case of D. Grayson by brothebro

Summary: Dick Grayson gets a job in Wayne Industries as an electrical engineer, or so is the word. Except it's not Dick who gets the job but Danny Grayson, half ghost and professional disaster. Of course, because nothing is ever easy for Danny, the world mistakes him for the prolific first child of Bruce Wayne and therefore rumors start Dick Grayson got married in secret.

What could possibly go wrong, am I right?

(Danny, Sam, and Tucker are married and move to Gotham to escape the GIW. Danny changes his name from Fenton to his biological name before his adoption- Grayson. He looks exactly like Dick, too. So many people see him out and about, thinking he's Dick. Misunderstandings ensure)

5. those who serve. by aryelee

Summary: 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 and, 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.

( Basically, homeless Danny, with no other options, saves Alfred from a mugging. Alfred repays him by offering him a place in Wayne Manor- but Danny doesn't want to be a Wayne. He wants to be an Alfred- so he becomes Alfred's butler apprentice )

6. Wait, I'm a what? by Atiya_Blackcharm

Danny would like to say for the record that it was not his fault.

In fact, Danny would say that it was entirely Clockwork's fault. After all, he wouldn't even be in this situation if it wasn't for that cryptic time god.

But what was his fault was the fact that he kept helping.

He kept taking the cash from the assholes (and damn there were a lot of assholes near where he lived) messing with the residents who lived in the area. He kept accepting their offers of food. So because of this new routine that kept him able to afford to rent out his shitty (and possibly illegal) apartment and the hunger pangs sufficiently satisfied, rumors grew.

tldr; after Clockwork dropped of Danny in Gotham he tries to make the best out of the situation which includes helping out some people. Except along the way that led to rumors that he was an up-and-coming crime boss. A rumor he was largely unaware of.

(Danny lands in Gotham and sets out to help his new neighborhood. Unknown to him, he does it in a manner that makes everyone think he's a new crime boss. He just isn't aware they think he is one)

[dairy-farmer]

You know what does get enough love in A/B/O fics? Betas. And they SHOULD!

I flat out REFUSE to believe they are just set dressing for the Grand Highschool TeleNovela Romances of Alphas and Omegas(tm). Because nature doesn't WORK that way!

You know what I think they DO do though? I think they keep the High Octane, High Drama, Hopped Up On Hormones And Lust, effectively drugged half the time, Designated (Offensive)HunterWarrior and (Defensive)NurtureWarrior at BIRTH groups? From killing each other.

Because you can't spell bloodlust with out lust!

Horny brain stupid. Maybe YOU wanna fuck, but if that Omega doesn't wanna fuck? Because they aren't in their Heat and therefore find you, an Alpha, "pushy and obnoxious"? Well... you try to rub up all on that, and they'll rip your dick off.

Or at least TRY too.

Needless to say. Violence. Scaring the pups, destroying infrastructure, nothings getting done today. UNLESS? Someone ELSE steps in and let's Horny Brain Alpha rub up all over their good bits!

And? It's much, MUCH harder to get a Beta pregnant unless you, yourself, are a Beta. They also don't get OMEGAS pregnant that often. Don't have NEARLY as strong a smell, which means they don't leave linger "Stink" all over your space...

Perfect buffers! Every pack needs some Beta! As pups they buffer the two "We have to play X because I SAID SO!" Groups, as teens they distract the two groups from trying to fuck/murder each other, and as adults?

Every healthy Alpha and Omega has at LEAST one Beta or Beta couple they can go too, to calm down with. That they trust. That's THEIRS. Their little Pack. Because Packs can and do have layers!

But why they sociology lesson, you may wonder? Where is the Fucking(tm)?

A good and sexy question! Remember when I said "every HEALTHY Alpha"? Name a single God damn timeline Bruce Wayne has EVER been emotional healthy and well adjusted. The only Beta he has near him is Alfred. His PARENTS Beta.

That's basicly his DAD.

Dick is an Omega. Jason was an Omega. Both of them were crammed in a house with him, with NO buffers and it predictably exploded. Jason DIED and Bruce became unhinged. Is ALFRED supposed to handle that? He's OLD. He can't handle that sort of emotional upheaval!

But Tim can.

Tim is a Beta. He knows their secret. And he refuses to watch Batman spiral any longer. He forces his way in. We know the story. Dick comes back to find a teeny, tiny little Beta. Younger then Jason had been. Loses His Shit.

What are you planning?! This BETTER not be what I think it is! So forth and so on. Accusations thrown. Teeth bared. Omegas PROTECT pups and Betas.

But Tim is ready. Is a machavelian little shit. FLINGS himself at Dick even as he gets in Bruce's face, ready for bloodshed. And? 🥺🥺🥺 He's never had a Big Bwother befoooore! OR been hugged by an Omega! Is it true they give the BEST hugs?

K.O.! Straight to the instincts! Tim is cuddled like a teddybear. It's awful. But he does it for the pack.

When Bruce's Rutt hits? The stubborn bastard wants to GO OUT and FIGHT. Like it's not a recipe for Probably Murdering Somebody. Hmmmph! Oh. What's this? Cough cough. Oh noooo. I appear to be So VERY sick and DEFENSELESS. If only there was a-

He is trapped in a sweaty, shaking, vice grip for hours. As Bruce cuddles him close in the panic room, riding out his rutt. Tim politely pretends to be asleep as Bruce desperately fists himself, face pressed to his hair, scenting him like he'll DIE if Tim does smell every inch like pack.

He doesn't really TOUCH him, but the squirming and lose of control would shut Bruce down completely. So obviously, Tim never noticed.

You know... until he DOES. Hormones hitting like a quite brick. And for his poor A and O classmates? A tactical strike. Good God, they become Messy. And INTERESTED.

So do his teammates.

And Dick? Is NOT having it. Is suddenly EVERYWHERE. Breaking up flirting attempts. Dropping in on hangouts. Picking him up from school. Teeth bared in what only fools would call a smile. He smells... really nice.

And does NOT take Tim back to the Manor. He has a safe house near by. Why?

His heat is about to hit.

And really, there's no WAY Dick trusts those sloppy, messy, greedy little shits to take care off HIS Timmy. Especially not for his first time. Now strip and get in the nest, Tim. :)

And Dick is insatiable. All hot mouth and gentle, stretching fingers. That gives way to more and more. Until Tim is shaking and gushing wet, spots he didn't know EXSISTED being pounded by fingers, as a hot mouth torments his poor clit. An arm like steel, wrapped around him, keeping him from writhing and scrambling away.

His hands desperately twisted in long dark hair as he babbles. Stop? More? He doesn't KNOW! It's so MUCH! A greedy wet mouth kissing up his body. Are they done? Rumbling, soothing noises in his ear. He's all twitchy and sensitive. Done right?

Then Dick pushes IN to him. And it's good but he also feels like he's gonna DIE. How do older Betas DO this?! He doesn't even have a KNOT and it feels like Tim's gonna split in two! But it gets better and better, Dick rocking and kissing, all sorts of nice little touches.

And then Dicks fucking him. Pinning him down to his nest, everything smelling like him, as he rocks and rams DEEP. Body pressed so close Tim can't move. Panting against Tim's neck.

That constant "is he gonna bit me? Is he gonna bite me?" Making everything tingle. Making his skin sensitive and him hyperaware of his body. Of every slide of the cock inside him, the tight grip on his hips, draging him back to meet those desperate thrusts, the hot tounge licking and LICKING.

Teeth. Pressure. Breaking skin.

Cumming so hard he passes out for a bit. Waking up to a full hole, wet and squelching, and the stuttering thrusts of the Omega on top of him as he cums inside him AGAIN. Pumping another load as deep as he can.

By the time the stumble back to the Manor? Bruce is furious. It's been DAYS.

But they dynamic has changed. When Bruce's next Rutt hits? Tim doesn't have to think up some kind of excuse. Bruce, hesitantly, tracks him down. Offers him every sort of out that he doesn't take.

Teaches him how to take an ALPHA.

The knot won't fit. Yet. At least not in front. But he gets stretched and stretched, impaled so DEEP. Bent over a pillow as they move like animals. Bruce fills him with his fingers too. Everything is so FULL. All he can do is drool.

Then it gets BIGGER and he wants to cry. But he's so, so good for Bruce. His little clit rubbed and rubbed to help him adjust. Breathes through it just like he's told. And... and OH.

It's pumping him so gooey and FULL. Gushing and gushing. Bruce's fingers working him deep, making him spasm and milk even MORE into himself.

He loses track of how many times Bruce fills him up and drains him out. When no more will FIT.

And of course! Jason. Told he was replaced by some little alpha shit. Because Tim's parents lied and Talia never bothered to correct that for him. Imagine his confusion.

So he stalks him. Is he pretending? Nope! Catches Dickie Bird fucking the brains out of his little Beta Bird. So GLAD to see their priorities are straight! Got themselves a jailbait Beta and the Joker's still breathing! Fuck those guys!

.......he's gonna steal their "Robin".

So he does the big reveal. Red Hood is Jason Todd. But? He does it a Drake Manor. Tim is thrilled. Little concerned about the murdering thing, but Meh. Tim's flexible. And Jason? Oh he is gonna rock jailbird's WORLD.

He bend him in HALF. Full on mating press. They're still in full costume. And God if he doesn't want to just? Completely drain his balls into that tight hole. It's been MONTHS since he's felt so clear headed and at peace. Nothing but endorphins and warmth. Cute little whimpers and gasps from beneath him.

Gonna fuck him a sloppy ruin then buy him some cheap pizza.

No. No he's gonna buy him some GOOD pizza. Then take him back to the safe house and fuck him AGAIN. No more of this Robin shit. Keep him like a fucked up pet. Take care of him, clean up crime Ally, get revenge on batman. Jason likes that plan.

Unfortunately, Bruce is a paranoid man. And TOTALLY bugged Tim's room. He checks on him.

Has a calm and level headed reaction to seeing a Crime Lord FUCKING HIS BOY.

Predictable Alpha and Omega nonsense follow. But that is highly dramatic Not Fucking. We move on.

You may ask! What of Damian? Alpha. Obviously. He clearly bites, it should not be a suprise. But the Leauge is archaic. Betas are minions. Drones. Why is Drake even HERE? It is BENEATH an Alphas dignity to lay with... THEM.

Tim? Will absolutely fight a pup. Fuck this guy. For once, DICK has to play the buffering force. He's god awful at it.

Damian tries to kill Tim.

Bruce gets lost in Time.

Damian tries to become THE Alpha and banish Tim from the pack.

Dick obviously won't let that absurdity stand, as HE is now the head of the Pack, but gives Robin to Damian and doesn't listen to Tim. Granted, Tim isn't explaining himself well and openly mourning, but still. Dick is under pressure. NEEDS his favorite Beta.

Not out fighting, not doing dangerous Heroic things. Just... just there. Home. Anchoring him and giving someone to take care off. And with Tim so CLEARLY losing his shit? He CLEARLY needs EXTRA and IMMEDIATE Omega Care. It's perfect.

Except it's not.

It goes to shit and Tim disappears. Shows up again, down one spleen and up one Obsessed Immortal. They manage to get Bruce back. But everyone is hurt and recovering.

Damian has gotten better. But he still does not UNDERSTAND. He's told to watch and learn. That it will help. So he follow Dick. To an exhausted Tim's room. Who's bruised, grumpy, and in no mood.

Dick offer to rub on bruise cream.

Tim allows it. Eyes Damian with distrust.

One arm at a time. One leg at a time. Gentle and soothing. Rubbing and rubbing and RUBBING. Across his poor abused stomach. His chest. Tim melts. Dick gently pulling off his clothes. Getting him comfy. Utterly boneless.

Damian watches.

Watches as Dick leans forward. Hands skimming as they trail up and up. Ever so gently spreading. There we go~

Watches as Drake's toes curl. As he jolts in suprise at that first touch, only to melt and spread his legs wider. Shiver, gasp, whine softly. Rocking ever so slightly. Is what Richard doing REALLY so good?

He quietly gets closer. Richard's fingers are skillful. Sliding and rubbing as his tounge works. It overwhelms Dra... Timothy. But why? Why do this?

Then Richard slides up and IN and? Oh. OH.

Even like this, Timothy does not smell overwhelming. It's pleasant. The sounds he makes... The way his body just? Just TAKES it. Submits to an Omega's cock like it is the most natural thing in the world. Maybe it is?

He... he wants...

Timothy has noticed him. Tensed. His past actions have left him unwelcome here. But then Dick is taking his hand, guiding it too the pink and wet between Timothy's legs. A little nub. He was teasing this. Damian can too.

There is an immediate reaction. Damian watches, fascinated, as he helps drive Timothy to incoherence. Shaking, begging, punched out little cries. It takes almost no time at all to figure out how best to rub and pinch, flick and twist.

Richard cums. Damians appalled. Timothy hasn't even-! How can you be so SELFISH?! But before he can work himself into a proper rant, Richard slides out and drags him over, into his lap.

Between him and Timothy.

He is hyper-aware of his hardness. But before he can bluster or make excuses, his pants are opened and Richard is lining him up. Pushing both of them forward. He sinks in to the most magnificent heat he's ever experienced. Slick and wet. "Sloppy seconds" as he's heard them call it. Squelching and thick with Richard's seed.

A powerful arm goes around him. Hips rock rock his. He tries not to drool as the sensations overwhelm him. He's used to fuck Timothy again. Dicks hips snapping forward again and again. As though fucking both of them. He knots for the first time in his LIFE inside that magnificent body.

Clinging to the Beta beneath him and whining as Richard ground his impressive length against his back. They're rolled over. Gently. Ever so gently. Timothy jolting and gasping above him before once again, his body it being rocked by thrusts. Each one, tugging teasingly on Damians knot. Milking him.

Omegas are cruel and relentless, he decides. Gasping for air as he knots again. The first hadn't even gone DOWN fully yet. Richard TRICKED him. He should have taken Timothy and run while they had the chance. But it's too late now.

Richard wants them to "get along". And is taking the chance his Heat provides to arrange it.

And? Well, Tim make a MAGNIFICENT Buffer for the Batfam. 10 out of 10 Beta. Very soothing. Best Heat/Rutt buddy.

This has been, my fic ramble! Thoughts?

-🐼

dick helping and guiding damian with fucking tim 👀👀👀👀!! making sure tim feels good and that damian learns how nice it is to fuck their beta and enjoy him the way they all do 👀👀👀

[mnemosyne-nyx]

✨ Bruce Wayne Headcanons that haunt me but I refuse to elaborate on even if they're utterly wrong Pt. 2✨

Going feral over this man

Hal and Bruce almost share a birthday and it fucking infuriates Bruce for no reason.

My guy was a rebellious teenager growing up, you know, trauma baby tings but also wanting to distance himself from the elite society (I mean rich Gotham really is a different cesspool of evilness lmao who can blame the poor guy.) Not to get deep but the beginning of his crusade was him wanting to seek a life and identity beyond the Wayne name right and witness Gotham from all angles. However, after realising he can both honour and build upon his legacy, Bruce destroyed any proof of this phase as he associates it with his turbulent and troubled coming of age. Little does he know there's a box filled with Polaroids within the 73288199 attics of Wayne Manor ready for his kids to find plus his detailed knowledge about the punk scene of Gotham makes them suspicious anyway.

Bruce learns a lot from his children. He may be their mentor but he's definitely learnt acrobatic tricks from Dick Grayson, combat and body language from Cass etc etc. Black Canary one day complimenting an acrobatic move of Bruce's only for him to have learnt it from one 11 year old Dick Grayson.

Bruce knows every nook and cranny of the watchtower. This guy designed, funded and helped build this fucking thing. Superman can hear him fuckin scurrying in the hundreds of boiler rooms, hidden corridors and storage rooms like a human rat. Flash doesn't understand how this man just teleports from one end of the tower to the other not knowing Bruce built trapdoors, hidden passageways, fake walls in this place. Bruce has a hiding spot in the upper levels of the watchtower where a small window gives view to Earth. J'onn is the only leaguer who can rival Batman in his watchtower knowledge.

He is the unofficial caretaker of the justice league. He makes sure all catering and quarters are fully equipped to people's needs. Overhears a leaguer saying there aren't enough vegetarian options? Bam, fully renewed menu. Barry complaining he can't sleep because his quarter is too cold? Bam, temperature risen. Small things like office supplies, medical equipment - he's always taking mental notes of. He knows what leaguer is allergic to what too. Lad keeps the watchtower STOCKED

The League never fails to wish a member a happy birthday. Somehow word always gets out and no one really knows how the date gets around. It's Bruce. He knows everyone's birthdays. Sometimes photogenic memory doesn't work in his favour. When it comes to respect, compassion and love - Bruce isn't the verbal type. He prefers to show it through action - I mean he crusades around Gotham to show his need to protect people for God's sake. Therefore, he sets like a reminder anonymously on the watchtower monitor for some random hero to find.

My guy HATES Asmr.

Bruce's hair is naturally thick and actually pretty darn curly. Superman is renowned for having the curls, but Bruce - with dirty, grown out hair - can give him a run for his money. His curls never show though as he keeps his hair very short and often has it sleeked back in public (as Thomas and Alfred always told him it was neater and more proper that way.)

He is a PERFECT mix between Thomas and Martha. Everyone who ever meets Brucie Wayne for the first time tells him he's the spitting image of both of them.

My man was a heartthrob in the 90s. Dick and Tim frequently Google "Bruce Wayne 90s" and bust a gut laughing at how their old man is like in every fuckin teenage magazine published in that decade.

[violetbumblebea]

Inspired by this post here!

TW: Threats of violence (literally like one kicky boi happens)

Little Dick Grayson, his new ward, was staring at Bruce as he exited the clock in his study. The little boy sat in his large, black swivel chair and stared at him as he awkwardly shuffled out of the secret entrance. Bruce was pretty sure that 3 am was much too late??? early??? for little boys to be awake. (But how would he know, it's not like he slept much at Dick's age).

Bruce froze, wide-eyed and blinking at his ward. Dick continued to stare at him. After a moment of tense silence, Dick spoke, accusingly, "I know your secret."

The way Dick said it, so accusingly, made Bruce panic. Oh God, he knew it was a bad idea to take in a human ward. He didn't know jackshit about humans!

The only human he regularly saw on a day to day basis was Alfred, who was hired specifically for his discretion on other worldly matters. Alfred had known Bruce for the last forty-five years and was used to his nature but Dick? Dick was a normal ten-year-old human boy. All he knew about vampires probably came from media. Dick was probably afraid of Bruce!

Bruce should have been more careful. He knew that his ward was aware that he didn't sleep most nights but he also thought Dick had assumed he was sleeping during the day! In hindsight, not knowing what human children ate was probably obvious (how was Bruce supposed to know that ten-year-old humans were beyond infant food?) But still! Bruce even ate in front of Dick once to keep up the ruse (Sure, Alfred informed him that eating a whole, raw potato in three bites was strange but the thought count!)

Bruce winced at the tiny human's accusation. Maybe if he said it before Dick could say it, Dick would be less mad?

"I'm a vampire!""You're Batman!"

Bruce and Dick blinked owlishly at each other. Mentally, Bruce was relieved. His ward, who was so very smart, had obviously known about his demonic nature (it was very obvious in hindsight) but had been inquiring of his alternate identity. Bruce could have laughed of relief. His boy wasn't vampphobic, he simply was peeved that Bruce left the house at odd times of night to fight crime without telling him.

Bruce smiled brightly at his little boy (who looked mildly perturbed about the smile), "You're a smart one, chum! I'm Batman!"

Bruce was happy. His ward, who he was beginning to care for very deeply, now knew every side of him. Everything was going perfectly.

-

Everything was not going perfectly.

In the twelve years following his acquisition of Dick, Bruce had acquired seven more children (five legally, one biologically (with some overlap), and two only emotionally).

Bruce was proud of each and every one of his children. He was thrilled to get to watch them grow into caring, respectful people with their own individual goals and ambitions. He was proud of how they handled themselves but, in the moment, Bruce was not proud of how they were acting.

"C'mon, Demon Spawn, get it back!" taunted Jason as he held Damian's prized katana over his head.

Damian and Tim had gotten into another one of their brawls, with Tim making a snide remark or two and Damian rising to the bait as always. Damian had ended up pulling his sword on Tim, hellbent on making his brother see his point. The two ended up trading blows, Tim with his staff and Damian with his sword, until Jason had come over and plucked Damian's katana out of his grasp with his thick gloves.

Now, Jason and Steph, who was Tim's self-declared best friend and therefore also on his side, were playing a dangerous game of keep away with Damian. They continued to taunt and tease an increasingly frustrated Damian while Tim stood laughing in the background.

Bruce knew his youngest son and could tell that he was seconds away crying, if the reddening of his cheeks and wobbling of his jaw wasn't enough, Damian was also wiping at his eyes when he thought his siblings couldn't see.

Bruce felt frustrated with his kids. Yes, he knew that Damian could be abrasive sometimes but he was just a baby. Everybody knew that vampires didn't reach adulthood until about forty and, as a ten-year-old, Damian was especially immature. While he may look like a human child of that age, he still was much worse at self-regulating and needed much more affection than his human counterpart. He knew that his human children sometimes forgot that fact and other facts about vampires (like the fact that vampire children play fight like puppies and that they really shouldn't be making Damian's games so heated and personal with slurs).

Bruce normally tried to let his children stop fighting by themselves but another sing-songy shout of "I got your swooord, Demon Brat!" pushed Bruce to his limit. He stood up and slammed down his case file, ready to yell at his kids when Dick and Barbara burst in.

"We figured out what that new gang is doing!" shouted Dick, in full Nightwing regalia, as he pushed Barbara into the cave at frightening speeds.

The sudden entrance of the two with information on a case prompted the fight to end (which, while Bruce appreciated, he knew he still needed to talk to his kid's again about not using language like that).

Jason, who had ended with the katana, dropped the weapon on the couch before sauntering over to join Dick and Barbara. "What'chu got?" he asked the two of them.

The rest of the Bats moved closer, trying to listen to the intel. Barbara pushed her glasses up, like she did when she had a particularly interesting fact to tell someone about blood spatter. "These guys are kind of crazy but apparently they're legit, I double checked what they do with John Constantine."

Bruce was intrigued. A gang involved in magic that John said was legit could be dangerous for Gotham. "What are they doing?" he asked, prompting Barbara to continue.

Barbara smiled and cleared her throat and continued to read the report, "They all wear high-neck guards and silver crosses on their person," Bruce didn't love that sound of that. It sounded almost like- "And they carry around the cloves and flowers of garlic and holy water!" Bruce felt something inside himself go cold. Damian, who standing beside him, scooched himself under his father's clock and Bruce squeezed him tight. "Most notably, they all carry around wooden stakes and enough lighter fluid and lighters for a Fourth of July party!" Bruce's horrible suspicion was confirmed. Vampire hunters.

The practice was archaic but there were still people who thought that vampires were dangers to society and decided to hunt them down like animals. Bruce knew that Gotham had, at one point, been the home to the largest coven of vampires in the world. Vampire hunters where the reason that that coven no longer existed. They were the reason that Bruce's parents had died when he was still a child. Bruce hated vampire hunters and now they were actively trying to gain footing in his city.

Bruce's mouth felt drier than it had felt during the two years he had spent without drinking. In his arms, Damian was shaking; terrified. Bruce squeezed his son closer and nuzzled his hair before looking up and clarifying, "John said they were legit?" His voice sounded gravely even to his ear and he prayed that maybe he had somehow misunderstood what Barbara had said. He hoped that they weren't actually vampire hunters.

Barbara looked puzzled, "Yeah, that's what I said. Bruce, what's wrong?" 'What's wrong?' she asked, as if Bruce's city wasn't being invaded by the only force he couldn't stop. The only force he couldn't protect his family from.

Jason snorted, "Ain't this a good thing? These guys can take care of vamps for us so they ain't our problem." Bruce's other human children made noises of agreement and Bruce, who had foolishly thought he was scared a few seconds before, was terrified.

Bruce clutched Damian to his chest and stumbled a few steps back, folding himself over Damian and turn his back to the threat, away from the children he loved who would see him destroyed. He saw, from his inhumanely large peripheral, Dick, who he had stupidly assumed would never begrudge him for his nature, take a step forward and hesitantly reached out his hand. Bruce narrowed his eyes and turned his face toward him to hiss and extend his fangs out in a clear threat.

"Bruce," Dick said, stepping closer, "We didn't realize vampires had gotten to you. We can fix this, we didn't mean you. Just give us Damian and we can help you." Bruce, who had started to calm himself at his son's soothing tone, panicked again when he heard the rest of his son's offer. They wanted Damian.

Bruce had known that Damian and his other children didn't always get along. He had seen the angry looks and heard the biting words (he had, after all, lectured them time and time again about not using vampire slurs against their brother). But most of the remarks had been calling him 'Demon Spawn' or 'Hell Child', so Bruce thought they were mostly focusing some of their vampire fear on him. He had thought the angry looks were jealousy at the attention that Damian received; he thought they were jealous the way kids with new baby siblings were always jealous, mad they got less attention but also understanding it was needed by the baby.

Bruce hadn't realized how deep this vitriol and hate ran. He didn't expect them to take the first vampire hunters to come around as an opportunity to get rid of their baby brother. Bruce loved his human children and could never hurt them but Damian was a baby. Bruce would not let them hurt him due to misguided anger.

Bruce stood up and shoved Damian behind him. He spread his cape wide to hide Damian from their sight and make himself appear bigger. Bruce bared his fangs at his children and screeched like the bat he was named for.

His human children (his little babies) pulled out their weapons. They were his children and they were always prepared (if they were his children, why hadn't he noticed their bigotry?). Dick's escrima sticks crackled ominously, Jason cocked one of his guns, Tim and Steph readied their bo staffs, back-to-back, and Barbara whipped out a Glock.

Bruce wasn't immortal. No being could be. Sure, he had a longer life span and sure, without wooden stakes, it was harder to kill him than the average person. But Bruce was very much not immortal. Normally, when Bruce fought against an ally there was some button to destroy or some foe to subdue for the fight to stop. His children right now where clear-headed. This is what they thought was best. He had been unknowingly allowing this anti-vampire sentiment to fester in his home and now he was paying the price.

He looked back at his little boy, his Damian. When his son met his gaze, his green eyes where filled with tears and his face was red and blotchy. His son looked scared. Bruce knew, in that moment, that allowing his other children to kill him so that Damian could escape was the right choice. He understood what his parents had done that day decades ago.

He smiled at Damian and his brave little boy gave him a wobbly smile back. 'Go' he mouthed at Damian and Damian's face fell. Damian lunged forward, into Bruce's back, and gave him a crushing hug. Then Damian rocked back, his face determined and nodded. Bruce smiled at his son one last time before launching himself forward at his waiting and deadly children.

Bruce was immediately met with force. He tried to keep himself and the cape big to cover Damian's escape. Right away, he was dodging the crackling electricity of Dick's escrima sticks but, as he dodged a hit to his right shoulder, he was immediately met with a bo staff inches from his face. He grabbed the staff and forced it down, throwing Stephanie over his left shoulder and into the couch.

The time it took to launch Stephanie at the furniture, allowed Dick to get a good and painful jab onto his leg. His leg seized and, as he arched away from the pain, he saw Jason, who he had assumed was staying out of the fight due to the dangers of a gun in such small quarters, chasing after Damian.

Bruce felt his eyes widen and, in his distraction, Dick and Tim wrestled both of his arms behind his back. Bruce lunged forward and screamed, falling to his knees in his desperation. "Leave him alone!" he all but shrieked, "Don't hurt him! Please, Jason! Jason, I know you don't like our kind just-" Bruce's voice broke. This was so fucked up. He was begging his one son for the life of his other, "Please." he begged.

The hands restraining him let him go and Bruce slumped forward and watched as Jason dragged Damian, kicking and screaming forward. When Damian saw Bruce, his eyes lit up and, though he still looked scared, he tugged even more forcefully toward Bruce. Jason let him go and Damian hurled himself into Bruce's waiting arms.

Bruce squeezed his boy tight, enveloping them in his cloak and crying into Damian's hair. He had failed. He had failed and now they would both die. At least Damian was going to be awarded this one last comfort.

"Hey, Bruce?" said Jason in a soft and kind (?) voice a few steps away. Bruce looked up, pressing Damian's face into his chest. "I feel like we're missing something," continued Jason.

Dick and Tim had, at some point, moved from behind Bruce to next to their brother, a few feet in front of Bruce. Dick nodded empathetically, "We thought, when you grabbed Damian, that you were trying to hurt him or hold him hostage or something? Because you got turned into a vampire? But then you tried to act as a diversion for his escape and Damian looked terrified just now when Jason had him so... What's going on?"

Bruce, who's brain still felt foggy from the whole my-children-want-to-kill-me-and-their-brother thing and even more so now that they had done a complete one eighty, just blinked up at Dick and the rest of his present children, who had all crowded around him as he talked. Dick blinked at him. Bruce blinked again before shaking his head, "I'm a vampire?" he said, phrasing it like a question.

Jason, who had looked guilty the entire time, let out a barked, slightly hysterical laugh, "We gathered that. But you seemed so normal, since when?"

Bruce was feeling that floating, dissociat-y feeling again and blinked rapidly before answering, "Uh, since I was-" his tongue felt too big for his mouth "born, so like the last fifty-seven years."

The cave was silent for a brief moment. The bats were screeching and Bruce could here the muffled, hiccuping cries of Damian into his chest. All of his kids were staring at him and then it became pandemonium. "The whole-""-didn't tell me!""-never would have-""-in retrospect-""-mean, holy secrets, Batman!"

Damian, who has picked up on the fact that he was no longer going to be actively murdered, also poked his head out of the cape to whisper in a cupped hand next to Bruce's ear, "They are rather slow, aren't they Father?"

That did it for Bruce. The combination of stress from the vampire hunters, betrayel from what he thought his kids wanted, and whiplash from the fact that his kids didn't know made Bruce cackle. He started laughing, somewhat hysterically, at the fact that somehow, for the last twelve or so years, none of his kids, some of best detectives in the world, had realized he was a vampire.

His kids, who had still been throwing questions at him and each other, quieted. Bruce laughed and forced himself to calm down to address his concerned looking kids and the little one poking his cheek in worry. "Sorry, sorry" he gasped for air "But how?" he asked.

Tim, who still looked concerned for his father's sanity, ventured forward to ask, "What do you mean?"

Bruce gasped again before asking, "How did none of you figure out I was a vampire, my whole bat thing? My entire aesthetic? How did none of that tip you off?" Bruce rose to his feet, his chest still hitching, and he slung Damian to his hip as he asked.

His kids ventured to look at each other before Barbara answered, "I met you like elevenish years ago, back then you were super mopey. I thought-" she interrupted herself, clearly embarrassed to continue before whispering, "you were emo??"

Dick nodded along, "Yeah, on the same vein of what Babs is saying. I mean, back then I just figured you were weird. I mean you ate a whole, raw potato once. So I just figured the whole dark aesthetic and light-aversion thing you had going on was just another quirk or maybe you didn't know what sun screen was," Bruce herded his children to the couch as Dick talked. "I got used to it eventually so I figured stuff like that was just Bruce™ things."

All of the kids collapsed on the couch and Bruce followed, with a clingy Damian still on his chest. They were all emotionally exhausted from what had just happened but they needed to have that talk. Dick mentioning the potato thing reminded Bruce, "Did none of you notice the fact that I don't eat food?" he asked, quirking a brow.

All of his children seemed to think, trying to remember a time when Bruce had eaten and apparently coming up blank. Jason shrugged, "I guess I assumed it was a workhokic rich boy thing, Timmy here don't eat either."

He leaned over to give Tim a half-hearted noogie and Tim shoved him off before adding, "No, I have seen you drink before. I-" Tim looked like he really didn't want to ask.

Bruce, good father that he is, spared his son from asking, "Those were blood packs," he says.

That gets a bit of reaction from his kids, several noises of disgust and Steph loudly complaining "I thought the Capri-Suns had gone bad! Noooo, it was blood!" However, they see Damian tense on Bruce's lap and quickly go quiet again.

Babs breaks the silence. "You were trying to protect Damian from us. Is he..?" She tried to ask it delicately but her curiosity for the unknown showed through.

Bruce nods, "Damian is a full blooded vampire, the League of Assassins is one of the most infamous vampire covens on the globe." Babs nods thoughtfully, absorbing the new information. Bruce knows that tomorrow, when the news is less fresh and Bruce is less tense, Babs will be asking all about vampire development and Bruce will be happy to indulge her, just not now.

Damian had started scanning his siblings' faces when he had become the subject of the conversation. For the first time since his siblings had started playing keep-away, Damian started to relax. He doesn't seem totally satisfied with the conversation wrapping up and he puffs out his cheeks a bit before asking, "Were you not calling me 'Demon Brat' and other slurs due to my vampire nature?" He looks geniuenly perplexed, like he couldn't picture any other reason for such mean spirited names. Now that Bruce can see that the nicknames were affectionate sibling ribbing, Bruce is heartbroken for his youngest son.

Based on the looks on everyone else's face, they feel the same. He can see that Dick is itching to go over to Damian and pepper his face with kisses to make his frown go away but this isn't Dick's apology.

Surprisingly, it's Tim who gets off the couch and kneels in front of Damian, who's perched on Bruce's knee. Damian had always antagonized Tim because, as the brother closest to his age, he was his most viable playmate for roughhousing. Often, the two went too far and Bruce knew that, while Tim loved Damian, he didn't always like him. Tim looked Damian right in the eye and said, "I am sorry. If anyone ever calls you something like that again, including me, you have every right to hit them with your katana." Maybe that wasn't the best message to tell a ten-year-old raised by assassins but it was what Damian needed to hear.

Jason, who loves to use insults as endearments and had therefore been one of the greatest offenders, slid of the couch and said, "I'm sorry for ever sayin' that shit" Damian gasped in delight, at the bad word more than the apology, "and if anyone talks shit again to you, tell 'em Red Hood'll get 'em." Bruce could see the remorse written clearly in the faces of Tim, Jason, and Steph as they hugged Damian and Bruce was proud. Maybe he hadn't failed as badly as he thought.

After talking for a bit longer, Bruce carried a sleeping Damian out of the cave and decided he would join his son and take a short hibernation in his nest in his room (seriously, he had a nest, how had his kids not suspected anything) Tomorrow, Bruce would be calling Cassandra to make sure she knew that she was a vampire and talking to Duke to make sure he knew that only vampires started to turn to ash in sunlight. Tomorrow, Bruce would be making a one hundred-twelve slide power point on the finer parts of vampire culture to show his children and ensure they were well educated. Tonight, Bruce was going to cuddle his son and calm himself down in his comfy nest

(Tonight, the bats and birds would fly and take care of the threat to their family and, tomorrow, if there were a few more bags of blood for Bruce, who could say?)

[lya-dustin]

Potiphar's Wife

Osferth x older woman!reader

Cw: technically incest as reader is his dead uncle's widow

Prequel: Temptation(Aethelred I x reader)

You are Potiphar’s Wife and he is Joseph the Dreamer.

He prays daily for God to afflict him with an illness of sorts to take his lust away.

He has already tried to sate it with a serving girl in the stables and yet he could not stop thinking about you.

You were old enough to be his mother, not only that, you were King Aethelred’s widow and therefore his aunt by marriage.

It would be sin to bed you.

But he wants you, desires you in a way that makes him feel ashamed of the cross he bears around his neck and on his chest plate.

“Go on, I do not bite.” You say as you beckon him to approach you as you sit naked in your bath.

You are temptation in the flesh, they say you had to be shut in here because his late father was afflicted with that same lust he has now.

You were beautiful, so beautiful that Aethelred of Wessex sent for you the moment his first wife died and made you his queen. So beautiful the Witan feared you would manipulate Alfred into setting aside Ælswith for you so they had you wed to some ealdorman far away. An ealdorman who died mysteriously without any heirs save for the child you had with the dead king.

Uhtred had recommended him to take up this job of guarding you after a raid into your lands. Damn Lord Uhtred for sending him here.

You are Potiphar’s Wife and he is Joseph the Dreamer.

She tempts you with sin each passing day, but unlike Joseph he doesn’t flee from you. No, Osferth goes to you like a moth to the flame.

“It is not proper to intrude on a lady when she is in a bath.” He said keeping his eyes on yours to avoid his weak defenses from breaking down further.

“Perhaps I don’t want us to be proper, Osferth.” You say with a smile that has him stuttering like a fool. “Perhaps I want you to be a man and take what you want from me.”

“It would be sin, my lady.” Osferth clutched his crucifix for strength.

“If we do not sin, how can God save us?” you question his resolve and with that it begins to crumble.

“I will stop tempting you if you wish for me to do so, Osferth. If your faith in God forbids you from bedding me, then tell me so mow and I will stop.” You continue and he finds it difficult to agree and reject you.

“And if I said I don’t want you to stop?” He manages to regain his tongue and he asks this. He is a man grown, bloodied in battle and versed in the ways of carnal sin.

If you want him, and he wants you, what difference would it make when he’s defiled plenty of women both virgin and wed alike.?

“Then I’d ask you to remove your clothes as they’d ruin my bath.” You answer sweetly and he begins to remove his robe and chest plate.

“I only have one request, Osferth.” You speak and he paused as he reached to remove the cross from his neck.

“Anything you ask, I shall give to you, my lady.” He says boldly wondering what sort of request you’ll make.

“The Crucifix stays on.”

[striveattemptfail]

unless specified, all images are from rho #56

babs' bridesmaids + dick's groomsmen:

cassandra cain (batgirl) + duke thomas (signal)

dinah lance (black canary) + damian wayne (robin)

stephanie brown (spoiler) + tim drake (red robin)

helena bertinelli (huntress) + jason todd (red hood)

i've left steph and dinah currently as is bc we see dinah later performing

and she's the one with curlier hair/not matching steph's hairstyle with bangs

due to the height, i've labelled cass and helena with duke and jason respectively since cass is much shorter than jason and closer to duke's height, so her being taller than jason's shoulders (even with heels) doesn't make sense. i admit that i could very much be wrong though because of the next observation—

—which is the placement (and therefore the roles) each bridesmaid and groomsman plays

alfred officiating makes sense

even if it wasn't super fanon-y, dick and babs aren't shown to be incredibly religious and alfred probably got ordained god knows when ago bc he's immortal lmao

jason being closest to the centre likely means he's dick's best man

which makes sense, at least in this universe. not only did he tell jay he was gonna propose, but jason admits that dick and babs they support him when he doesn't deserve it

rho #38

so not only is he close with dick, but babs cares about him too, which likely means that she wouldn't mind that jason was the best man at their wedding

what interests me most is helena being closest to the centre, and thus potentially being babs' maid of honour

(or, if i'm wrong, then it's cass being the maid of honour)

i've personally always seen dinah being the closest to babs between the birds of prey, and both cass and steph as equal between the batgirls

so it's an interesting choice to have helena or cass as maid of honour in either case

of course if i'm completely off-base with my guesses then none of this matters at all lol. and maybe their positions don't matter either and nico lined them up that way arbitrarily

it's just something interesting to think about is all ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

[ghostoffuturespast]

So It Goes - Chapter 41: Anarchy

[X]

The hallway exploded. Concussions rippled and wracked the air, followed a millisecond later by the shredding of glass and metal. Shock waves sent stray bits of shrapnel rocketing past to lodge in the carpet while chunks of concrete catapulted in a spray of dust and battered the walls. Screams; the bang of the starting guns. The timer started.

I'm nearing the end of this fic, and, well, no more poems after this. (At least, I don't think...) So, I did something a little special for the occasion. Maybe kinda spoilery if you're reading the fic, but if you've played the game, you already know.

Transcript below the cut if you don't want to listen to me read remixed poetry for 4:20. (ha) Not quite formatted correctly since there aren't any justification settings here and I skipped my playing around with blank space, but you get the drift:

The Sailing Rime of J. Alfred Prufrock and The Ancient Mariner's Love Song to Byzantium

I should have been a pair of ragged claws Scuttling across the floors of silent seas. To ask a question: Would you take a bullet for me? And some in dream assured were Of the Spirit that plagued us so; Nine fathom deep he had followed us From the land of mist and snow. The self-same moment I could pray, And from my neck so free The Albatross fell off, and sank Like lead into the sea. Let us go then, you and I... And would it have been worth it, after all, Would it have been worth while, After the sunsets and the dooryards and the sprinkled streets, After the novels, after the teacups, after the skirts that trail along the floor- And this, and so much more?- It is impossible to say just what I mean! But as if a magic lantern threw the nerves in patterns on a screen: Would it have been worth while If one, settling a pillow or throwing off a shawl, And turning toward the window, should say: "That is not it at all, That is not what I meant, at all." No! I am not Prince Hamlet, nor was meant to be; Am an attendant lord, one that will do To swell a progress, start a scene or two, Advise the prince; no doubt, an easy tool, Deferential, glad to be of use, Politic, cautious, and meticulous; Full of high sentence, but a bit obtuse; At times, indeed, almost ridiculous- Almost, at times, the Fool. That is no country for old men. The young In one another's arms, birds in the trees, -Those dying generations- at their song, The salmon-falls, the mackerel-crowded seas, Fish, flesh, or fowl, commend all summer long Whatever is begotten, born, and dies. Caught in that sensual music all neglect Monuments of unageing intellect. I grow old... I grow old... I shall wear the bottoms of my trousers rolled. An aged man is but a paltry thing, A tattered coat upon a stick, unless Soul clap its hands and sing, and louder sing For every tatter in its mortal dress, Nor is there singing school but studying Monuments of its own magnificence; An therefore I have sailed the seas and come To the holy city of Byzantium. Shall I part my hair behind? Do I dare to eat a peach? I shall wear white flannel trousers, and walk upon the beach. I have heard the mermaids singing, each to each. O sages standing in God's holy fire As in the gold mosaic of a wall, Come from the holy fire, perne in a gyre, And be the singing-masters of my soul. Consume my heart away; sick with desire And fastened to a dying animal It knows not what it is; and gather me Into the artifice of eternity. I do not think that they will sing to me. Once out of nature I shall never take My bodily form from any natural thing, But such a form as Grecian goldsmiths make Of hammered gold and gold enamelling To keep a drowsy Emperor awake; Or set upon a golden bough to sing To lords and ladies of Byzantium Of what is past, or passing, or to come. I have seen them riding seaward on the waves Combing the white hair of the waves blown back When the wind blows the water white and black. We have lingered in the chambers of the sea By sea-girls wreathed with seaweed red and brown Till human voices wake us, and we drown.

The Rime of the Ancient Mariner by Samuel Taylor Coleridge The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock by T.S. Eliot Sailing to Byzantium by William Butler Yeats

[mamawasatesttube]

when tim gets a cat, and by god, one day he will (<person still bitter about that time tim brought a stray cat home but alfred didn't let him keep it) kon takes it upon himself to knit/crochet various outfits for it. he especially likes making silly hats (examples below)

TO BE FAIR that cat was teekl, klarion the witch-boy's familiar, so tim couldn't have kept him anyway. but yeah tim definitely needs a cat at some point. in my mind he accidentally adopts (gets adopted by) an incredibly scrungly kitten that looks like it got struck by lightning at all times, and therefore he names it "the flash". bart takes great delight in saying things like "ugh the flash peed in my shoes this morning" in front of wally. but yes kon definitely makes silly hats for this and all potential tim cats ever

[suzukiblu]

Day four of fic NaNoWriMo, obligatory sugar daddy Tim/sugar baby Kon AU.

"Dead," Tim says, because it's not like it's a secret in the community or anything. "Joker happened to him."

And a lot of other things. Sheila Haywood and Felipe Garzonas and Bruce's eternal control-freak paranoia and constant inability to just talk, to name a few. But Joker, in the end.

Still, Tim can't help thinking about the chances to have avoided what happened to Jason. Especially when thinking about what's currently happening to Kon.

If Kon gets taken advantage of or hurt or killed because no one's paying enough attention . . .

Tim takes another drink.

"That sucks," Kon says with a grimace. "No wonder Batman goes all weird mama Bat on you all the time."

Tim chokes on an incredulous laugh and also a mouthful of soda, because Bruce is definitely not that and this isn't something to make light of either, but–

But also, he thinks about how no one ever goes "weird mama Bat" on Kon. No one ever has, as far as he knows.

No one takes care of him at all.

Tim really, really doesn't like that. Kon shouldn't have to rely on working for people who think they can build custom-designed personal-use superheroes based off of stolen dead bodies and are constantly making clones that are just inhuman-looking enough to not be able to blend into society outside the lab, and therefore don't have a choice about where they live or what they do with their lives.

Maybe it's not as bad as it sounds, or at least not as malicious as it sounds, but it's still the results of what Cadmus is doing either way. Kon has the option of being a superhero, at least, but he also has a custom-designed face that looks exactly like the face of one of the most famous heroes in the sector and was given absolutely no idea how to either establish or support a civilian life, so that's just about his only option.

Aside from, again, just working for Cadmus for the rest of his life.

Tim definitely hates the world.

"Please don't call it 'going mama Bat'," he says to distract himself.

"Please tell me what else you'd call it," Kon says.

"Micromanaging," Tim replies matter-of-factly, and Kon chokes on a laugh of his own.

"What, is being Robin your after-school job?" he teases. Technically it is, Tim supposes, but he doesn't exactly think of it that way.

"I consider it more of an unpaid internship," he says, since explaining the whole "emotional support sidekick" thing would probably damage Bruce's Bat-mystique, and if he tells Kon the full story there he's basically telling all of Young Justice. Kon barely seems to understand the concept of secrets, much less the concept of keeping them. "Like I get an expense account but not a paycheck, you know? And sometimes we get cookies in the Batcave."

"Cookies. In the Batcave," Kon echoes, his eyebrows shooting up. "Are they bat-shaped?"

"Wouldn't you like to know," Tim replies with a pleasant smile. Alfred doesn't usually bother with anything quite that on the nose, but according to Dick there are Halloween cookie cutters in the kitchen that he's not above bringing out when Bruce has been being especially ridiculous, so . . .

"Oh my god," Kon says delightedly. "Does he make them himself? Is there a Bat-apron? A Bat-oven? Or does he just order them special from the Bat-bakery?"

"There is not a Bat-bakery," Tim says, trying not to laugh again. Goddammit, Kon shouldn't be so fucking funny all the time. He's not even that funny, objectively; Tim is just a smitten idiot.

"So there is a Bat-apron?" Kon says with a smirk.

"I plead the fifth," Tim says, since explaining the novelty Halloween apron Jason bought Alfred when he was thirteen is not actually on the table. Details compromise identities, loose lips sink ships; all that.

"Listen, man, Cadmus doesn't have a bakery unless you count the test tubes they cook us up in," Kon says with a snigger, grabbing himself another slice. Tim thinks thoughts about incendiary devices. "They buy our cookies frozen or just get the industrial-sized pudding cans. Or make bread pudding, the bastards. So you gotta tell me about the Bat-cookies."

Tim winces at the thought of industrial-sized pudding cans and bread pudding, because that sounds absolutely horrifying and he never, ever wants to taste industrial pudding. Ever.

"Well, they're definitely not frozen," he says. "But Nightwing started being Robin a lot younger than I did and the last Robin started younger than me too, so I think I'm just reaping the benefits of younger kids needing after-patrol snacks and everyone else getting in the habit of it."

"I could get into that habit," Kon says musingly as he tears a bite off his newest slice. Tim immediately resolves to order takeout after every possible Young Justice mission that he can. Or they could go get ice cream or something, he doesn't know. "What do you think, wanna make me Bat-cookies sometime, Rob?"

Every weekend for the rest of their respective lives, although Tim would never actually say that. He's not even a good baker. He doesn't even like to bake.

This crush is definitely a problem.

"You're not Gothamite enough to handle Bat-baking, Kon," Tim says dryly, and Kon sniggers.

He also ducks his head a little, looking . . . oddly soft, for a moment. Tim doesn't understand why, until he realizes–oh. It's because he just called him "Kon", isn't it. He wasn't even thinking about it; just did it reflexively.

Tim is pretty sure he needs to ruin the credit of every single "responsible" adult in Kon's life for not naming him sooner. Well–Dubbilex can have a pass, considering he was also made by Cadmus and his own name is Dubbilex, so it probably never occurred to him that "Superboy" wasn't a perfectly acceptable name. And also he probably doesn't have credit either. But all the rest of them, definitely and for sure.

Superman is getting an envelope of powdered Kryptonite in his fucking mailbox, to start. Or maybe Tim could aerosolize it and pepper-spray him with it. That might work.

"You don't know, I could be," Kon huffs, putting on a mock-offended expression. "I was born and raised in a lab, I'm way tougher than the average guy."

"A Metropolis lab," Tim says pityingly. "Might as well be a kindergarten science class."

"Oh fuck you, Batboy!" Kon protests with a laugh. "Tell that to the next alien invasion."

"Aliens know better than to invade Gotham," Tim says. Kon laughs again. It's–weirdly nice, honestly. Usually Kon's too busy trying to act cool in front of whatever "audience" he thinks they have to actually, like . . . just talk all that much or anything. And also usually he gets offended really easily or starts being annoying about something he doesn't know as much as he thinks he does about or just . . . something.

Tim admittedly is less and less annoyed and more and more endeared by that kind of stupid behavior these days, but still. It's the usual pattern their interactions follow.

He guesses they're actually just, like, hanging out right now. It's not like there's a bad guy or a crisis or even any teammates around or training to do, so . . .

Yeah. He guesses they're just hanging out.

Kon decimates the pizza and wings, Tim pretends to be helping and takes a few mental notes on how much Kon is eating and what that may or may not say about his required caloric intake, and they just kind of keep . . . hanging out, really. And they talk, at least as much as Tim lightly interrogating Kon and subtly evading providing any personal identifying information counts as "talking".

Tim really doesn't know if the guys at school or Young Justice are more authentically his "friends", at this point, but at least Young Justice knows there are things they don't know. Everyone from school . . .

Not so much, with them. They all only know Tim Drake, and none of them have any reason to suspect the existence of Robin. Young Justice only knows Robin, but at least they know there is a Tim Drake somewhere, whether they know him or not.

Maybe they are the ones who are more his friends, thinking of it that way.

It'd explain why things never really go anywhere with civilians and he's developed this stupid inadvisable crush on Kon, at least. Though not why things fizzled with Steph, since she knows Robin better than anyone in Young Justice. If he should be having a stupid inadvisable crush on anyone, at least it could've been someone with an equally stupid and inadvisable crush on him.

Unfortunately, he and Steph have officially friend-zoned each other and also Kon exists, so Tim is having his stupid inadvisable crush on an alien hybrid metahuman clone in a terrible living situation with stupid taste in sunglasses and a mysteriously infinite-seeming supply of leather jackets. So now Tim is in this situation and his supervillain timeline needs recalculated, and also he's going to be buying Young Justice so much takeout to make sure Kon gets to eat something that isn't cafeteria food in a way he won't get offended by.

Hopefully, anyway.

"Well, I'm glad the new job's working out," Tim comments eventually, after some very careful conversational maneuvering, and Kon . . . pauses.

"I guess," he says after a moment, picking olives off the remains of his current slice and not quite looking at him as he says it. Tim resists the urge to absolutely pounce on the blood in the water and makes himself wait. "I mean, it's fine, it's not like it's bad there. Like, I don't love that it's my only real option and I don't love the same lab that made me out of DNA that it literally got out of a literal grave being in charge of me, but it's not like Westfield's still running the place or anything. So like, could be worse."

Tim hates the world. All of it. Seriously. Alfred's snickerdoodles get an exception and that's it. Nothing else.

"I'm sure it'll all work out," he says, because yeah, he officially needs to actually do something about this. He doesn't know what something, but something. If he doesn't, who else is going to?

Kon puts on a fake grin and says something stupid and easy in reply, the comment lighthearted and dismissive and a screamingly obvious coping strategy from someone who doesn't see any way out of their current situation but through, and Tim . . .

Tim finishes his Zesti and starts to think.

[aphspain-pure]

"He who once was King" [Part 1]

Title: "He who once was King"

Category: Fanfiction.

Pair: EngSpa, UkSpa. Other minor or implied pairings

Words: 7.566

Genre(s): Cardverse AU; Drama, Romance; enemies to lovers. 

· · · · ·

Entering the grand ballroom, the explosive lighting and festive atmosphere made Arthur's face twitch in almost disgust.

Having made the long journey from the Kingdom of Spades to there, the Kingdom of Clubs, his body was feeling particularly resentful from the exhaustion of an interminable trip. The journey had been long and disastrous, and Alfred's thinly disguised excitement had ended up getting on Arthur's nerves in more than one extreme situation. He would had been on the verge of throwing himself out of the train's luxury compartment, had it not been for Yao's strict insistence and Matthew's sympathetic and kind intervention.

He sighed, trying to erase the horrifying memories of his journey.

He didn't even know why he had agreed to take Alfred with him to this ceremony. If a marriage within the royal family —or even general nobility— took place in another realm, the moral code of the aristocracy mandated that the corresponding royalty of each kingdom should come to pay their respects, as a mere bureaucratic, symbolic formality.

They had therefore been more or less obliged to attend the wedding.

In any case, it was no secret to anyone the palpable tension and seething hatred between their King, Alfred F. Jones, and the current King of Clubs, Ivan Braginsky. It was so damned obvious how little they tolerated each other's political ideas and presence, that the Four Kingdoms had been fearing that the peace that had managed to last for almost 300 years would be shattered by the bursting of this Cold War bubble.

Therefore, no one, really NO ONE, would have cared if Alfred had not shown up at that exact ceremony —which, leaving the King aside, would star the current Queen and Jack of Clubs.

Thinking about it, Arthur's head went far away again, plunging back into his usual musings and reasoning.

The Kingdom of Spades was the greatest power of knowledge and education among all the kingdoms. Therefore, it was not difficult to suppose that Arthur, as a representative of such a Kingdom, was the very fruit of all that supremacy. It was therefore only logical to assume that his knowledge of history was, frankly, excellent.

For that very reason Arthur began to wander into historical questions as he replayed in his mind the marriage that was to take place.

It had been only some 50 years ago that the old tradition of royal marriage was Heaven's law. And no matter what other characteristics aside from the letter —that is, regardless of the gender, age or even parentage of the two involved— always, in all circumstances, the King and Queen were to be married. By then, thank God, times had changed; and, thankfully, it was no longer a total obligation to consummate the marriage by the role of the Card alone.

It had become generally agreed that, in reality, the titles of King and Queen were just a bureaucratic formality and did not represent a true "couple" relationship, but a simple turn of Destinty pickpointing the next generation of rulers. Thus, that old habit of tying the representatives of the royal offices into a marital relationship had broken down, and situations like the one that was to take place today began to occur: legal marriages between Queen and Jack, for example.

Although, anyway, the Kingdom of Hearts, which was generally the most religiously observant and traditional, still chose to prolong the royal union. Thus, the monarchs Ludwig Beilschmidt and Honda Kiku were married by Church and were loving to each other as a front for their people —even if Arthur knew from his spies in other courts that it was, in fact, a chaste marriage and that the King had a thing for his Jack, but well…—.

On the other hand, the King of Clubs actually had zero interest in things like love affairs, so he had ruled out marriage long ago; ironic and somehow conversely, contrary to him, the King of Diamonds had perhaps too much interest in that sort of things, so tying himself to a single mate happened to be out of the question.

Again, Arthur thanked God that the laws had been modernised, because the Queen of that Kingdom was a poor creature, still thirteen years old, hastily risen to power after the premature death of the previous Queen. A sweet little child who did not deserve to go through the torture of being the wife of such a frog.

So, as much as he might have respected the Ancient History and laws of his great Kingdom, Arthur was indeed glad to the core of the modernisations that had been forced to make in the marital sphere nearly half a century ago. And as much as he loved Alfred, Arthur didn't even want to imagine the conjugal scenario. He hadn't questioned Alfred about it, in fact, but he was pretty sure that in the idiot's straw head there were only hamburgers, superhero comics —mostly produced in the Kingdom of Diamonds— and warships. So he was pretty sure that he had never even considered the idea; which he prefferred.

Indeed, he envied him. He really did. It must be comfortable to be so oblivious and idiotic all the time.

He was brought back to reality for a moment when Yao, his Jack, shouted 'I don't know what two-aru' things at him and he had to understand over his thick Oriental accent that Alfred had caused a mess again.

A vein bulged in his forehead and he could almost feel his blood pressure rise to frightening levels for any doctor. All the while, in the distance, he caught a glimpse of his stupid King thrusting his chest out and facing Ivan, the one and only terrifying King of Clubs, who was looking at him with a cold smile and clenching a pipe with restrained tension.

Arthur would have panicked and probably sweated like a poor wretch on any other day, but this time Alfred had pushed his patience to the limit with the little train journey —he'd told him to behave himself and not pick a fight with the Clubs, for God's sake!—. Between the gnashing of her teeth and a distinct twitch in one of her bushy eyebrows, he ran up to him to grab his ear.

— AUCTCH! H-hey, but what!? ARTHUR! —Alfred had begun to shout once he had been stopped in his attempts to threaten him—. What are you doing - ow, ow…! It hurts, stop it! —but Arthur didn't stop and even pulled harder on the imprisoned ear, forcing the other to whimper like a child.

At the same time, he turned to look formally at the host King and gave him a polite little salute, apologising in advance for what had happened.

— Long time no see, Your Majesty Braginsky. Congratulations on the marriage of your Queen and Jack and, I'm sorry, but I beg your pardon to our King for his lack of manners. —he said, with such poise and quietness that Yao, hiding behind a pillar, had to thank the Heavens that at least one of the royal duo in his charge was able to do his job properly.

Ivan visibly relaxed to give him a polite bow in return.

— Don't worry. Many thanks to you for coming all this way, my lord. —he responded, cold yet elegant and respectful—. How are you enjoying the ball in honour of the bride and groom? Is it to your liking?

One of the specialities of the Kingdom of Spades, actually, was feasts, celebrations, balls and so on, and every year they held dozens of events that were beyond imagination how beautiful and impressive they were.

With that in mind, the modest, quiet ball —far shabbier and far more underfunded than his own — had not suggested the slightest praise in the quiet walls of his mind. Still, cynical and pragmatic, Arthur had said, patronisingly.

— Charming in his own way, indeed. —in a flattering tone.

That seemed to be enough for Ivan who, after a soft smile and a last tense glance at Alfred, decided at last to do a last gesture with his head, and go on his way to visit the rest of the guests.

Once he had vanished, Arthur gave the other lingering fool a cudgel.

— Autch- HEY! —he shouted, sulking at being beaten like a brat, but Arthur refused to listen to his retorts.

He called back to Yao who ran up to him and thanked him for putting the brakes on the other, and Arthur simply told him to keep an eye on him so he wouldn't get into trouble again. The Jack nodded.

When he had checked that everything was in place, he went back to a less crowded area and became self-absorbed again, thinking about everything and nothing at the same time.

Few… people knew it, but he was supposed to have been the King of Spades.

When a member of the royal family is born, God grants him or her a symbol.

This person can be born in the same nobility or in the house of a humble cobbler, as well as in the same street, only God knows if there is a special reason for this. This person, determined from the very first of its days directed to be part of the royal court of the country, shows a mark with the corresponding letter, together with the symbol of the Kingdom. Likewise, there was a subdivision within the nobility, between the lower aristocracy —made up by numbers from 2 to 10— and the upper class —King, Queen, Jack and Ace—, who are the real rulers amongs them all.

Few people knew it —among them, the most senior of the nobility of the Kingdom of Spades and the King of Diamonds— but, at his birth, on Arthur's collarbone there had been a "K", not a "Q".

He had been chosen to be the next King, and he had been trained to be so during his early youth. He had been instructed in all the arts of dialectic, rhetoric and combat, in those that the King would require throughout his life; and had been preparing himself, as fate dictated, to be the next leader.

Or at least he had been doing so until his tenth year.

Overnight the "K" on his skin had disappeared.

It came as a real surprise throughout the court because, much to their regret, such things usually only happened once the King had reached an advanced age and was no longer able to fulfil the role of the Card. But never… all of a sudden. And, strangest of all, not only did his previous mark disappear, but another one appeared. A "Q" marked his skin and, although he understood nothing at the time, all came together for the 10-year-old Arthur once the newborns Alfred and Matthew were placed in his arms, with their respective "K" and "A", and he was told that it would be his duty to instruct them.

Then he understood, he understood that God had put him on the back burner.

But don't misunderstand him, Arthur never had any great attachment to the title of King —at least not as Alfred had, who had always clung to his royal nature as if it had made him one of his much-loved heroes—. He, from the very beginning, accepted his new position, because he knew that if he played his cards right, being Queen would serve him just as well. He had rank enough to set in motion his plans for the future of the country, to make it great and prosperous; rich and powerful.

So, without much ado, he became the one to oversee the education of the Ace and, above all, of the future King, who was basically raised as Arthur's own younger brother —all the more reason why Arthur would never have put up with the royal marriage—. And while Arthur would have many things to criticise about Alfred's personality and tendencies as a monarch —namely that he was young and inexperienced, too impulsive and lacking in logical reasoning, and with belligerent tendencies to boot— he could tell right away that he had the makings of a King.

He was friendly and used to interact a lot with his people —something he had never really done— and he had a certain natural charisma that had charmed Arthur, Matthew and the rest of the Kingdom as a leader since a young age. Arthur had never blamed or resented Alfred for changing his destiny.

A soft voice snapped him out of his thoughts again.

— Good evening, Kirkland-dono. I was looking forward to our meeting today. —he turned his head to smile softly and give a slight bow of his head.

— I couldn't agree more, Your Highness Honda. It has been a while since we last spoke.

In front of him Honda Kiku, the Queen of Hearts and a person he held in high esteem, was dressed in the traditional regalia of his Eastern region within the Kingdom of Hearts, with the mythical red national colour. He was smiling elegantly behind a delicate fan, with kindness in his dark eyes.

They chatted for a while about trivial matters and matters of state, and even invited each other to drink while they waited for the newlyweds —since, as far as he knew, they had been married in the privacy of their private chapel a couple of hours ago— to arrive and they could all celebrate together. He had never had a relationship with any of them, except for some clash with the Jack on business, but his position compelled him to be there to offer them at least a respectful "Congratulations".

Kiku's company —in his thoughts Arthur dared to call him "Kiku", his dear friend— made the situation pleasant until they were forced to part by a girl from Hearts, who came to warn them that they should join their respective clansmates, because the bride and groom had just arrived. The pair of Queens leisurely said their goodbyes and Arthur sought out Matthew and then joined their King and Jack.

Once they were together and in their seats, Arthur could not help but notice the change in Alfred's countenance, who was now looking more relaxed, more grown up.

Now 18 years old, he was a tall, handsome man, arrogant when he needed to be and more relaxed when the situation called for it, and he shone with all the brilliance a King should have. Arthur felt proud to have practically raised him, agreeing with the part of himself that had always thought Alfred's blue eyes had even fairly matched the colour of his Kingdom better than his own.

The front door of the ballroom opened and a pair of people entered, holding hands and sweet smiles on their faces.

Roderich, the Jack of Clubs, wore a rather light and sweet one, while Elizabeta, the Queen, beamed with a huge one on her face. As soon as they entered, cheers poured down upon them, and people, especially from the Southerners of the Kingdom of Hearts, who rushed to give them their blessing. Then, little by little, representatives from each Kingdom came to give them their congratulations and words of encouragement.

First, everyone from the Kingdom of Clubs arose, leaving a special appearance for Ivan who, without further ado, shook hands encouragingly with both of them with a smile. Next, the Kingdom of Hearts stepped forward and Elizabeta was embraced by the Jack who, being someone close to the couple in their childhood days, had taken these liberties. The King of Hearts, utterly embarrased, tugged at his clothes and apologised to them both, causing the couple to laugh softly, not giving the matter too much thought. Then it was their turn, and he and Alfred exchanged encouraging and respectful words with the newlyweds. A cynic like Arthur found it hard to believe in such frivolous things as love, but he could tell that these two loved each other deeply and dearly.

Once they were back in place, it was the turn of the splendid Diamond Kingdom to approach the couple. At this specific fact, Arthur allowed himself to snort like an annoyed child.

Stunning, elegant, glowing like the sun itself, the yellow colour that was the face of the Kingdom of Diamonds predominated in the clothes of those present, in different shades and intensities. Leading the way, hair soft and silky like that of the finest model, rich and ostentatious clothes that left one speechless, and a simple and loving smile, King Francis Bonnefoy stretched out his arms as if he were the young couple's greatest friend. The newlyweds grimaced as he approached them, even more when he kissed them both on the cheeks —a custom that typical of certain parts of the Kingdom of Diamonds and the Kingdom of Hearts— and then began to speak honeyly to them with his thick French accent.

Arthur had to suppress a retch as he pitied the poor fellows.

He had known Francis since the two of them were little more than half a foot tall and had gone through the first steps of training to be future Kings together. One could even somehow say that Francis had even been… something of a teacher in some areas of his education, being a couple of years older than himself. Still, they had never put up with each other, and had a cat and dog relationship most of the time, which they had always tried to camouflage under a mask of professionalism. It didn't usually work, and they often came close to gouging each other's eyes out.

Anyway, when Francis turned away, the next pair came to congratulate the couple. The adorable little Queen of Diamonds, just turned 12 and looking like a little doll, spoke a few quick, nervous words to them while her older brother, the Jack, stroked her back and gave her encouragement. The latter, for his part, was talking politely to Roderich and congratulating him quietly; and though Vash would probably have preferred to hide it, Arthur clearly saw the appreciation of an old friend in his gestures and words. Arthur smiled sideways, very full of himself, amusing himself by reading between the lines and getting into the minds of others. As the Queen, he had a certain talent for seeing things that others could not. The pair of siblings withdrew and suddenly Arthur caught a glimpse of one more person, so he blinked, quizzical.

In the Diamond Kingdom he had only known those three members of the high nobility for all those years, but he didn't recognise this guy at all. The bridal couple, on the other hand, had jumped at the sight of him, and after a brief moment of shock, they had smiled broadly and hurried over to him, the Queen hugging him tightly. Arthur found Roderich's face especially curious, who until then had been maintaining a quiet, thin smile, and was now smiling broadly, as if he were truly happy. When the woman turned away, it was the turn of the unknown man to step forward, and kiss her twice on the cheeks. A moment later, he was repeating the same action with the elegant Jack, kissing him as Francis had done earlier.

The reaction, however, was totally different.

— We've missed you. —Arthur had managed to hear from the Jack's mouth, disconcerting him. Words that elicited a sound that, to his ears, sounded almost like a spring breeze.

A frankly charming laugh came from this unknown individual who was showing his back to Arthur, who immediately took the hands of both bride and groom and brought them to his lips to place a light kiss of devotion upon their knuckles.

— I always knew you were made for each other, Rod, Eliza.

The sound of a male voice, not too deep and not at all raspy, charming like no other, dulled Arthur's senses for a moment.

The guy kept talking, but Arthur didn't understand the content of his words, more interested in intercepting the vibrations of his voice and his accent in his ears. And he was so lost, so far gone, that he didn't know where he was or what was going on until Yao brought him back to the earthly world with a couple of finger snaps. He growled at him, annoyed, and a moment later he apologised, remembering he was supposed to be a gentleman.

But as soon as he regained his self-possession, he craned his neck around in a desperate attempt to find the guy with the dreamy voice who had caught his eye. He asked Yao, his Jack and therefore who was in charge of external affairs in his Kingdom, to see if he had any record of who he was. The Chinese frowned his lips, mumbling.

— I… don't know him aru. I was surprised to see him too, I don't recall seeing his face ever before. —he had replied, to which Arthur realised that he had not, in fact, seen his face.

A heaviness in his stomach and a child's impertinent determination made him pucker his lips and come to the conclusion that he had to face this guy head on. Matthew probably noticed the glint in his eye, because he began to sweat uneasily for no reason.

But before he could go on any kind of intrepid adventure in search of the said man, the lights went out and music started to play. A single spotlight illuminated the starring couple, who prepared to begin dancing to the classic Viennese waltz that was playing.

After a couple of minutes the rest of the lights were dimly switched on and gradually people began to join in the ballroom, dancing. The first pair, as expected, were the King and Queen of Hearts; Ludwig, tall and elegant in his formal attire, being orthodox and polite in asking his husband to grant him this dance. Kiku politely accepted and they joined in the dance; Arthur, out of the corner of his eye, watched the reaction of Jack Feliciano, who was smiling happily, while behind his back his hands were clasped together, trembling.

So, little by little, other couples from different Kingdoms began to join the dance and even Alfred, who had been a little pressured by the situation, extended his hand to him offering him a dance wearing a stupid expression. Arthur shook his head, saying that he didn't feel like it, and pushed him to go ask Yao or his brother to dance. As Matthew had symptoms of social panic, Yao went out to dance with Alfred in the end.

It could be said that he had zero to no interest in dancing until his keen eyes caught something that left him stuck in place.

There, among the dancing couples, the curly, tousled brown hair of the guy who had caught his eye earlier appeared like a mirage. But it was not the apparition itself, but rather his company that left him still and petrified as if he were a poor idiot.

There, waltzing perfectly, the brown-haired fellow who had earlier let out such a charming voice found himself being grasped round the waist by the fro- Francis, by Francis. They were dancing together, and Francis, from his stupidly calm and happy expression, seemed genuinely delighted with the situation.

He didn't even quite know why, but a freckle popped out of his forehead from the strain of his eye contracting in pure irritation.

He honestly didn't know why, but the stupid face of the frog, so happy and debauched dancing with this guy who had caught his eye, gave a rather significant plus to his usual bad mood. He gnashed his teeth when, after a particularly awkward turn, both men laughed a little and hugged each other, then continued dancing as if nothing had happened. The twitching of his eyebrow was merely collateral damage from his boiling blood.

He relaxed himself as he realised that he was acting in a totally irrational manner.

He took a breath, leaned against the column behind him and glanced again at the King of Diamonds and the brown-haired guy dancing along with the rest. He felt uneasy for some reason, yet he chose not to make a big deal of it. Still, he couldn't stop his questioning from coming out in a sigh.

— Who is this guy…?

— That "guy" is Antonio, eyebrows.

A voice next to him startled him, causing him to put his hand to his heart in shock. A second later, he turned shudderingly to collide with the only red eyes he'd ever met.

The Joker.

Gilbert Beilschmidt, the older brother of the King of Hearts and the only current Joker. Some would correct him because there was, in fact, another current Joker; but Arthur preferred to be specific and correct in these matters, and preferred to maintain the status of Peter, the boy under his custody and care, as only a 'potential Joker'. After all, he was still only a child, so he couldn't use his powers, leaving this albino guy in front of him as the only current Joker.

He looked him square in the face, recovered from his initial shock, and asked. — Antonio? —with slight curiosity.

Gilbert, who —Arthur was absolutely sure— probably hadn't even been invited to this celebration, looked back at him with those blood-red eyes that used to make people nervous. He had an arrogant smile plastered across his face, as if he felt superior just knowing that.

— Yes, —he had responded—. Antonio.

The guy's repellent attitude frayed Arthur's nerves a little, who, trying not to get nervous, pushed a little harder. — And who is this "Antonio"?

— The amazing Ace of Diamonds, of course!

And with that Arthur's green eyes expanded to widen beyond their confines.

— The Ace…? —he had been thinking all his life that there was no Ace of Diamonds at present, that since the previous one died some thirty years ago there had been no successor! He was literally certain that apart from the Swiss brothers and Francis there was no one else in the Kingdom of Diamonds belonging to the high nobility, for there had never been any talk of a successor! He was literally sure that apart from the Swiss brothers and Francis there was no one else in the kingdom belonging to the high nobility, for he had never been spoken of, never been named, and certainly never appeared there. And he had known Francis since he was a little boy, so how was it possible that this guy…?

But then it dawned on him, and the muscles in his body seemed to relax.

— Ah… —he said, and unwillingly his mouth escaped—. So he's not that frog's lover, thank goodness. I was beginning to feel sick.

— Oh, if that's it, they probably are by now, zwar.

He choked for air, shocked.

— What?!

He glanced quickly back at the happily dancing couple, then turned to look at the Joker. — The King and the Ace?! together!? —Gilbert shrugged his shoulders.

— Well, these are modern times. And I'm sure you know Fran well, that's not especially something that would stop him when it comes to "l'amour". —he remarked, making inverted commas with his fingers and looking disinterested. His eyes, however, instead of looking at Arthur, were looking beyond, towards the duo—. Besides, Toni is beautiful. And Fran has always been after him like a hungry hyena. So it's not actually that surprising.

Pathetic as it was, Arthur couldn't help but resent the pretty brown hair that had so often prevented him from seeing the much-lauded face of the subject in question.

The comment about the King of Diamonds' apparent extreme interest in his Ace was, in any case, unimpressive. If anyone had ever told him that Bonnefoy drooled over lampposts, he would have put his hand in the fire without a second's hesitation, believeing it without a second thought.

Now fully recovered, he looked at Gilbert and noticed the strange, heavy look in his eyes. He narrowed his eyes, suspicious.

— I'm sorry to be indiscreet, but you speak of them in a very familiar way. What exactly is the relationship of the Joker, someone who should be completely neutral with respect to the Four Realms, to the King and Ace of Diamonds? —the question seemed to catch the albino's attention warmly, and he immediately smiled softly.

— We are childhood friends. I spent my early years as a Joker in the mountains of their realm, gathering my magic; they, of course, were something like my overseers. —and the blond drew his eyebrows together and twisted his lips.

He didn't like to be out of the loop on something. He was fairly well known for being efficient and a born gatherer of information, certainly seconded by his long system of espionage and investigation, so the news that was reaching him that day surrounding the mysterious figure of the Ace of Diamonds was beginning to irritate him. To irritate him as a personal matter.

He looked at Gilbert proudly, and then made a decision.

— Good. As the representative of the Kingdom of Spades I have to meet all the representatives of the other Kingdoms, so now you are going to introduce me to this Antonio. —at which, for a moment, Gilbert's face froze in a comical and strange grimace.

— Y-you want to meet Toni? Look, Kirkland, I don't think that's…

— Do you want our dear Queen of Clubs to know of your presence in her wedding reception?

Gilbert's face turned white and almost immediately blue, and a moment later he began to walk forward, leading the way to where he had been sent, almost in despair.

As he did so, and without turning to look at Arthur, who followed him calmly with a victorious smile of superiority, he said.

— Then later don't tell me I didn't warn you.

That sentence could not have mattered less to the monarch who followed in his wake with the air of grandeur typical of the Spades.

…

Circling the dance floor where the people continued to waltz, the pair reached the area closest to where Francis was still dancing gracefully. Gilbert called out to him, who, without paying much attention, winked and continued dancing as if nothing had happened. This time not only Arthur, but also the Joker had a shuddering spasm, annoyed.

It wasn't until the piece was over that the blond broke away from his partner and approached them, holding out his hands in a way too much dramatic gesture, as he was used to. With zero politeness, both Arthur and Gilbert rejected the greeting kisses the other was about to give, turning away sharply and looking disgusted. Not that Francis looked offended, by the way.

A princely smile on his lips, he spoke. — What a… pleasant surprise that his Majesty the Queen of Spades would honour me with his presence! To what do I owe such a gratifying pleasure? —with a wry yet syrupy and irritating tone that made Arthur's temper flare.

— Cut the crap, asshole. —He spat, somehow forgetting everything about etiquette that he had hold dear due to his status. Instead, he tried to look behind him insistently, frowing—. Why did I never know you had an Ace?

Francis played dumb.

— You… never asked?

He would please expect that no one would blame Arthur for wanting to kill that incorrigible fool.

And maybe he really would have jumped on the other one to hang him or something, if it hadn't been for the Joker's intervention.

— Kirkland here wants to be introduced to Antonio, Fran.

Francis' blue eyes paused for a moment, before looking directly at Arthur who looked, frankly, unconcerned on the subject.

— What? —stated Arthur, unmoved yet irritated—. Does it surprise you that I want to meet an important member of another country's high aristocracy? Well, you shouldn't be. In fact, you should be grateful that I'm not going to accuse your shitty kingdom of high treason for withholding such valuable information.

The other monarch did not seem particularly intimidated. He sighed, running a hand through his hair.

— This wasn't really a matter of withholding information, don't make up things, Arthur.

— Oh no? And then what is it, because I still don't understand how is possible that the rest of the Kingdoms did not know about the existence of your Ace.

— You are wrong there, mon ami. The only ones who didn't know about it are you, the Spades.

He was answered almost instantly by a high-pitched cry of incredulous 'what!?' from the other. Francis tried to calm him down by waving his hands.

— Wait, calm down, that's not relevant now, it's really not as serious as it seems. And if I haven't been particularly interested in publicising Antonio in general, it's because… Because… Well, I suppose a picture is worth a thousand words.

And, leaving Arthur a little too curious, he turned gently to direct his gaze to the dance floor.

There, in the crowd, his former dance partner was gently guiding the steps of the young —and highly impertinent— Ace of Hearts. In a calm voice, Francis called out. — Toni! —and then, the said man turned.

Then Arthur's world stopped, just as his jaw gave way and he dropped to the floor, eyes wide and wide as headlights.

The sudden sight of deep green eyes was like a burst of spring.

As if he had wandered into an untouched jungle in the tropics, or plunged into the dew on the grass at dawn. Like the most beautiful of gemstones and at the same time the most terrible of curses, the greenish gaze fell in his direction, causing Arthur, holding his breath as a clumsy child, to almost choke himself.

The formerly peak of auburn curls framed the youthful face of a man about his age, with sun-tanned skin, healthy cheeks and a straight nose. From where Arthur stood he could not admire in all its fullness the rosy hue of the friendly lips which, locating Francis there in his direction, stretched to show a veritable wonder of the world.

The infinitely stretched smile, cheerful and carefree, which caused two dimples to sink into the defined cheeks, was another thing that made Arthur's brain gears explode, and his guts to simply churn.

And when this guy, grinning like an idiot, began to approach them and spoke, all the functions of his brain came to a screeching halt.

— Ah, Fran! —the young man had merely said, in a voice as masculine as sweet and charming, but that was enough for Arthur, his mouth unhinged, to be abandoned by his spirit.

The foolish incarnation of a god of art and passion began to approach them leisurely, his face lit up by a smile, while Arthur listened to Francis comment.

— I hope you understand me for being a little selfish in keeping him for myself.

....

As the brown man caught up with the group of three, his friendly face wore a quiet but certainly puzzled smile. As soon as he had arrived, he had positioned himself next to the King of Diamonds so naturally, with his own inertia, that it was more than clear that this was as normal and basic to him as breathing. Once at his side, Francis reached out his nimble arm to rest his hand on the newcomer's lower back, as naturally as the aforementioned. This was basically his usual modus operandi, while Gilbert, with a complicated expression on his face, watched the action with questioning eyes.

Arthur, on the other hand, continued as before. Quiet. More than silent…, gone. With his mind flying away, perhaps in some imaginary place or who knows where.

Francis could only take pity on him who, like a Spade, must have suffered some kind of culture shock after seeing his Ace's aura.

— What did you call me for, Fra- Oh, wait! I suppose at this point I should refer to you as Your Majesty. —and laughing awkwardly for a moment, Antonio rubbed the back of his neck, correcting his appellation—. If it is not too much of an inquiry, what is the purpose of your call, my King? —Francis, looking conflicted, somewhere between rushed and excited, gently stroked his companion's lower back as he gently shook his head.

— A simple trifle, my lord, a favour I ask of you as your humble servant. —the blond then replied, smarmily, as Antonio laughed, seemingly unaffected by the other's apparent devotion, and Gilbert snorted, hissing through his teeth. The King smiled for a moment, and then his smile devalued a little to a polite, emotionless one—. I wanted to introduce you to a fellow monarch and good old friend of mine. —he then held out his arm in a show of affection and addressed the man who had hitherto been left out of the conversation—. This is Arthur I of the Kirkland Clan, currently Queen of Spades.

And it was at that moment, when the splendid and devastating green eyes as big as stars, bright as the sun itself, and deep as the greatest abyss, turned and rested upon him, that Arthur came back to life to become, as he had never been in his life, red and redder, and even redder.

Knowing the fate of the greenish gaze that had so disarmed him, Arthur could do no more than stand petrified as he watched the man in front of him look at him intently. The colours rushed to his face as, somehow, the blood drained out of his brain. What was wrong with him, why was he acting so…?

Incompetent, stupid.

He felt like a elementary school child in front of some kind of divine creature.

Perhaps by the hand of those last thoughts he had truly lost his sanity, embarrassed to the core as he was 100% aware of the effect this man was having on him.

He managed to shake himself out of the stupor that had assaulted him when Francis, having taken the role of presenter, pointed to Antonio and introduced him.

— And, Arthur, this is Antonio Fernández Carriedo, the Ace of my Kingdom. —he said, smiling at his companion. Arthur was somewhat curious about the fact that Antonio had two surnames, remembering somewhere in the back of his mind that this was a tradition in some parts of the Diamond Kingdom. He turned his attention back to him when he opened his mouth again—. My beloved Ace here has been far away for a while on a research assignment in a distant land, across the ocean, so it is only natural that you two have not met before. This is, if I am not mistaken, the first time he has set foot on our continent in more than five years. —he was surprised, dismayed, and dismayed by this.

It surprised, dismayed and otherwise amazed Arthur, all at once.

He, a lover of wisdom as clichéd as it was from the people of his Kingdom, had always wanted to go beyond the Great Blue that stretched from the shores to the horizon. He knew that there was something beyond, but very few people and very few ships were limited to going and, perhaps, never returning from those distant lands.

He had always been drawn to such adventures and legends, and he was sure that, had it not been for the fate that fell upon him to impose the safety and welfare of his people, he would have taken to the seas to discover, to breathe, to live. Unleashed to run and be surprised by the strangeness of the world beyond his borders. In freedom.

This guy smelled, felt, like freedom.

And his eyes were so crystal clear that he felt the sea was right there for him.

If Yao were in his head, he probably would have called his attention to how shamelessly self-centered that had sounded, as if this Antonio had appeared now and there for and because of him.

Without skimping, avoiding letting a single second pass, he made an elegant but measured bow and formally introduced himself.

— Arthur Kirkland, the Queen of Spades, here to serve you always, my lord.

And he held out his hand so that the Ace could extend his own, to make possible for Arthur to give him the formal, elegant kiss on the hand that, in a way, he longed to offer.

His lips stung in anticipation.

Though his intention was immediately thwarted when, rather abruptly if Arthur were asked, the other fellow's eyes widened slightly, his gaze averted, and in a curt tone he mumbled, cold as ice. — Ace of Diamonds Fernández Carriedo. It's my… pleasure.

The sudden rejection and the coldness that, from what little he had been able to observe, did not seem to go well with his warm and effusive character, made Arthur, not a little self-conscious and annoyed, pick up his own outstretched hand. His brows furrowed, which only seemed to be accentuated when he saw the same gesture reflected in the other's forehead.

Gilbert and Francis didn't look the least bit surprised.

Equally, he was not at all surprised himself when he deepened his voice and, trying to maintain his composure, said. — Forgive my outburst and I do apologise if my behaviour might seem out of place, but I would like to point out your attitude. —that caught the attention of the green eyes, which turned to look at him fiercely—. Are you always this lackadaisical, or do you just have a problem with me? Please don't beat around the bush. I can't stand levity.

The Joker jumped up, overwhelmed. — Kirkland!

But Francis cut him off, calming him down. — Gil, leave it to me. I'll explain. Look, Arthu-

— The latter. —he melodious voice dictated, responding to his kind of rethorical question, and they all turned to look at him, as he turned from glaring at Arthur, somehow fiercely. Then, he closed his eyes and turned away—. I simply have a problem with Spades, it's nothing …"personal", my lord.

…

Arthur's fists clenched, and he gritted his teeth, poisoned by the humiliation.

How could…

How could he pretend to tell Arthur that his entire Kingdom was a problem, but still pretend it was nothing "personal"?

He reached out and tied the man's arm, squeezing it tightly to stop him, and exclaimed.

— You're crazy if you think that-!

— D-DON'T TOUCH ME!!!

The scream reverberated through the room, and the music stopped.

The cold fell on Arthur, and he panicked. In a moment he was away from Antonio, and suddenly the Jack of Clovers Roderich, the groom on this occasion, obstructed his view and acted as a wall between them as, elegant as ever, he remarked non-important things to divert attention. His hand slipped off the arm where it had been, and suddenly the sounds melted into the background and he went still, catatonic. No, he…

He hadn't meant to scare the guy, he…

I mean, yes, he'd felt insulted by him and had wanted to show himself as a proud and capable leader in front of him, but… He'd never intended to unleash such a…

He hadn't… found words to define what he had seen in the other man's eyes for a split second.

There was hatred and rejection, yes. But most of all there was something else, something that made his throat dry and made him want to vomit.

Before he could name the nature of the mist in those eyes that, he was now sure, weren't exactly looking at him, Antonio had been pulled away from him, and the natural noise of the room had been organically restored. Roderich kept saying something to him, at least until he saw Gilbert, and the two of them started to argue, but Arthur didn't listen too much. He was only able to see Francis giving him a complicated look, before he, too, disappeared into the crowd.

Nothing else worth telling happened during the rest of the evening. Not that Arthur, in the pale state of his mind, could recall, at least.

…

But that same night, in his blankets, Arthur couldn't sleep, he was tossing and turning. The saw green freedom-eyes suddenly darken under a veil of unknown feelings every time he thought he was falling asleep. And then he would open his eyes and look up at the ceiling, thinking.

Who was really Antonio? Why hadn't he known about the existence of someone as important as the Ace of Diamonds? And how was it possible that he had been out of the Four Realms for so long? Why… What for did everyone seem to hide and treasure him so much? And, above all,

Why did such cheerful eyes as his only exude pure anguish when they looked at him, a Spade?

That night Alfred's snoring in the next room and the tinkling of the glass decorations in the guest room accompanied him in his wakefulness. Partly caused by the anxiety in the back of his mind that was warning him of something unknown; partly, too, by the tingling in his arms and in his soul that numbed his senses when he thought of Antonio, his hair, his voice, his eyes and his smile.

All night he thought of nothing else, in fact.

[To be continued… ]