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Masterlist
Nikolai Lantsov
Theodore Nott
Hetalia
Dcu
Bucky Barnes
â¶ . áá . FIC WRITER ASK GAME !
any [insert __] is for the sender to fill in :)
1 ⧜. if you could sit down and finish any one of your wips without anything stopping you (time, tiredness, etc), which fic would you choose? tell us about it if you want!
2 ⧜. if you could sit down and finish any completely new fic without anything stopping you (time, tiredness, etc), what would you write? tell us about it if you want!
3 ⧜. what's something you like about your writing?
4 ⧜. is there an au or trope that you haven't written before, but would want to try?
5 ⧜. is there a certain kind of fic that feels the most satisfying to finish? any reason why?
6 ⧜. if you were to write a part two/sequel to a fic, what fic would you want to write it for?
7 ⧜. is there a fic you wish you received feedback on, but didn't get any/much? this ask game is asking someone else to then give feedback on said fic, pretty pretty please!!!
8 ⧜. what part of [insert fic] is your favorite?
9 ⧜. tell us about a wip/idea that you're excited about!
10 ⧜. what genre is generally the easiest or most enjoyable for you to write? which is the hardest?
11 ⧜. if you were to rewrite [insert fic] with [insert different character/ship] how do you think it might change?
12 ⧜. what's a song or two you associate with [insert fic]?
13 ⧜. do you have any writing projects/goals/plans you're working on/want to work on?
14 ⧜. is there anything outside of your normal content that you want to write?
15 ⧜. if you wrote a fic called [insert title] with [insert character/ship] what do you think it might be about?
16 ⧜. if you wrote a fic called [insert title] what character/ship would you want to write it for?
17 ⧜. are there any songs you want to write a songfic for?
18 ⧜. how do you want your writing to feel to your readers?
19 ⧜. give a hint/teaser about something you're writing without any context or explanation! tease us haha
20 ⧜. answer any one of the other questions that you want to!
anyone curious?
because it'd always be you.
Heartless
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
Chapters: 4/30 Fandom: Hetalia (Anime & Manga) Rating: Not Rated Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Belarus/Lithuania (Hetalia), Belarus & Russia & Ukraine (Hetalia) Characters: Belarus (Hetalia), Lithuania (Hetalia), Russia (Hetalia), Ukraine (Hetalia) Additional Tags: Immortality, Alternate Universe - Human, Alternate Universe - Royalty, Prophetic Dreams, Alternate Universe - Dragons, Dragons, Tragic Romance, Fluff and Angst, Romantic Fluff, Romantic Angst, Alternate Universe - Magic, War, Alternate Universe - Bodyguard, Bodyguard Romance, Lithuania is Named Toris Laurinaitis (Hetalia), Belarus is Named Natalia Arlovskaya (Hetalia), Hetalia Countries Using Human Names, Angst and Romance, Not Canon Compliant, Strangers to Friends to Lovers, Getting to Know Each Other, Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Guilt, Grief/Mourning, Siblings, Protective Siblings, Fictional Religion & Theology, Time Skips Series: Part 2 of In Northern Russia.. Summary:
Natalya had always dreamed of the man meant to be her immortal shadow. What happens when she finds him?
Hummingbird
Chapter 1
His grip on the steering wheel has his knuckles pale.
You were in the passenger seat of the batmobile; your head lolled forward as you slept. He wants to tilt your head back up and lean it against the window but there was no time.
No one could know of the civilian in his car.
He races through the streets and stops at your apartment complex.
A quick look around revealed no one in the immediate vicinity. He mightâve worried but even Oracle was quiet tonight. He hopes heâs doing enough to ensure your safety as he helps you out of the car.
Youâd been drinking out with your colleagues. It was a celebration for a case that had been bothering your department for a while now. Drunk and delirious, youâd notified him of where you were and slurred through conversation.
Heâd been worried; thought youâd been drugged. But you hadnât.
He holds you by his side as he leads you up to your apartment.
Oracle fucks with the security cameras recording Batman escorting a drunk detective to their apartment. The locks on your door are undone within a minute and then heâs stepping into your apartment.
Recognising home, you half-rouse and stumble your way into your room and slam the door shut. Bruce, on the other hand, is struck still. Heâs struck still at just how âyouâ your apartment is.
Heâs standing in the midst of your shoes piled up by the door and he adds his boots to the pile.
âEnsure our safety, Oracleâ he says. She rolls her eyes even as she mutters an affirmative. They both know he was being redundant but they both also know that it was better to be safe than sorry.
He walks in and explores your apartment.
He runs a hand over your worn-in sofa.
Notices the little knick-knacks on your shelves.
Notices the pictures on the walls.
Notices the half read poetry book on the dining table.
Notices that your kitchen was spotless.
Takes in the distinct scent of your home.
And then, heâs informed of the urgent need to leave.
He leaves.
That night, alone in his room; alone in his oversized bed, his imagination runs wild as it usually does.
But when he dreams, he dreams of you.
In his dreams, he holds you close just as he had; close enough to smell the alcohol on your breath and he takes you home but instead of walking away, you drag him in with you and then you kiss him.
What surprises him on waking up isnât the dreamt kiss, but the easy way heâd responded; as if heâd done it a thousand times before.
As if heâd kissed you before.
Heâd certainly thought of it.
And now it was bleeding into his dreams.
What a mess!
He sits in front of the giant batcomputer, glaring at it as he ponders over what-ifs.
Heâd driven as quickly as he could to the bar you were at and finding you had been no trouble. Youâd been walking out yourself.
Drunk, delirious and stumbling over yourself, youâd caught onto his arm the moment youâd seen him and he was sure that it was something youâd done as a friend.
So heâd held you as close as he could and taken you home.
It had been a whole 14 hours since heâd taken you home and he could still remember your steady weight pressed against him.
He could almost breathe in the alcohol on your breath.
He whispered a swear word and pinched the bridge of his nose.
chapter 2
Chapter 1
Bruce was no stranger to frivolous galas and other networking events, reserved for the rich, but that wasnât to say that he liked them.
Quite frankly, he hated them.
He breezed through shallow conversation with a drink in his hand and hated every second of it.
Heâd much rather be doing anything else, but tonight was an important night.
It was a celebration of a business merger of two highly influential families. One of those families, being yours.
You stood in a different part of the large room, talking and mingling with the many Gaothamites you, now, needed to know.
Youâd spent a large portion of your life travelling and inhabiting places that were very different from each other, which made you sure that adapting to Gotham would be easy.
After all, it was only a matter of time before youâd be leaving Gotham too.
Despite all the travelling and mingling you did. You hadnât found your soulmate, which was an oddity, in these circles that were all so perfectly matched.
Most people your age - including your friends - had found their fated ones already. Each new spouse had been a reason for celebration.
A celebration you wanted to take part in.
A celebration everyone around you was talking about.
This was something common, no matter where you went - the conversation about fated ones.
Youâd developed a sixth sense for when the conversation would drift to the topic of soulmates and introduction to them.
Just as you felt the conversation start to drift towards the dreaded topic, you drained you glass and excused yourself.
Not many people were by the bar.
Not many people conversed about soulmates at the bar.
Feeling only slightly relieved, you slid onto a seat by the bar.
A gentleman stood next to you, presumably waiting for his drink.
âHelloâ he greeted you.
With your eyes trained at the tableâs grain, you greet him.
âIâm Bruce Wayne. Wayne enterprises.â
Bruce Wayne!?
You look to him and the world burst into dizzying colour.
He stepped back; his face carefully blank, while you looked around, trying to absorb your surroundings.
Some people took notice and headed over to congratulate you and Bruce.
Bruce took it all in stride, with a fake smile and worried eyes.
That evening, the two of you were inseparable.
Many took it as a sign of a blissful life ahead and wished the two of you well, but you knew something was wrong.
Bruceâs grip around you was firm as he led the two of you through conversation and congratulations and, yet, he wouldnât meet your gaze.
He refused to look at you.
He refused to talk to you.
You realised, then and there, that you were unwanted.
There would be no cheers.
There would be no running to hold the other in an embrace.
There would be no surprised excitement.
No. What was destined for your friends and favourite characters, was not destined for you.
Youâd have to resign yourself to a life of small talk, in a shared space. Youâd have to resign yourself to the distant, polite relationship between two incompatible soulmates.
It wasnât what you wanted but you were nothing if not loyal to your prestige.
No one would know of your distress and turmoil.
You smiled a shy beam - typical of a new love - and let Bruce lead the conversation; only interrupting with quiet laughter, when and where, it was needed.
The night ended too slowly for your liking but it did end.
Bruce led you to your car, on his arm and you learned something about him that night. Bruce was nothing if not polite - he, too, was loyal to his prestige.
You walked to your car, on his arm, smiled a âgoodbyeâ and got in.
The car quietly came to life and took you from the party, back home.
You cried the whole way home.
chapter 2
G : Glory
Cassandra had met more than her fair share of megalomaniacs, people obsessed with glory, people obsessed with being the only one of their kind and she - quite frankly - couldnât care less about them.
For the longest time, Cassandra had been shuttered out of her own life; locked in her mind and body. Sheâd been too busy, just trying to survive - in every sense of the word. SO now, now that she had things she cared for - a family, friends, a lover - she no longer could even think of choosing her loneliness again.
Sure, every metaphorical pinch was a kick to the ribs, but every moment of held hands, shared laughter, tucked hair and other intimacies was the purest ecstasy.
It was strange to her - the urge and motivation some people had to leave their lives behind to pursue what was essentially, eternal loneliness. It made no sense to her.
Jason poked her out of her reverie. It was impossible to talk over the chopper blades' noise but that was no problem when the whole family could sign.
They chatted the whole way back and once they were close enough, Cass started getting antsy. Antsy because she wanted to get off the damn thing to go find you.
Jason knew it and was chivalrous enough to not tease her for it. How could she ever trade any of this for the loneliness of being the worldâs best assassin?
It made no sense.
They stopped signing once the helipad came within sight; both of them looking out to see if they could, perhaps, spot their lovers.
She saw you before you saw her.
As soon as the helicopter landed, she was out of the damn machine and running towards you. Your arms wrapped around her neck as she scooped you up in her arms and spun you around.
Two week without you had been as though she were deeply dehydrated.
One moment, the two of you were laughing. The next? You were kissing. And this : this feeling with your laughter in her mouth, your taste on her tongue, your strong embrace and your scent around her? This was the purest ichor.
She sighs in satisfaction as she kisses you back. You swallow her whimpers with greed.
This. This was all the ichor she couldnât stomach.
This was all the ichor she couldnât tire of.
This was all the glory she could ask for.
F : Friend
Cass had had no friends, growing up and while it didnât usually bother her, it would be a lie to say she was indifferent to the thought.
She was sitting in a batburger joint sipping on a milkshake, pretending indifference to the loudly chatting group of teenagers.
It didnât help that she couldnât name her feelings - all she knew was that she felt awful and it got worse when they all broke into laughter.
It was as though the entire world was laughing at her and her misery.
That wasnât a rational thought - she knew. Not everybody laughed at her. Bruce and the batfamily never laughed at her, nor her misery, nor her weirdness but the thought - that the world might as well have kicked her in the ribs - was a hard one to shake off.
She sipped the last bit of her milkshake, threw her styrofoam cup away and walked out of the joint.
Tim stood on the other side of the opened door and quickly greeted her when she shut it.
âYou wanna come home?â he asked.
Home? - she wanted to ask about that word.
Did she have a home? Did she deserve a home? Was she truly loved? Or was she confusing a bit of dopamine for something permanent?
She nodded her assent regardless.
On the way to the batcave, she reached out to hold Timâs hand in her own; just to see if heâd pull away. Instead he took her slow, hesitating hand in a confident, warm grip and held it the whole way to the batcave.
At the batcave, her rotten mood only worsened, when she heard everyone bantering and cackling - because here was another instance that proved her alien nature.
Was there anywhere she was truly home?
A tear slipped down her cheek.
Bruce noticed immediately and came over to stand before her. âIs everything alright?â he asked; his tone was paternal.
That stopped the banter.
She immediately burst into tears and the effort of wiping them away. They poured out of her regardless.
Unable to stand in the depth of her grief, she crouched into a squat and Bruce took off his cloak to lay it over her.
Hidden under the cloak, she fisted it in her hands and cried her heartâs share of tears.
She cried tears worth blood to Bruce.
When she finally subdued, Bruce bent on his aching knees, lifted the cloak slightly and ducked his head to meet his daughterâs eyes.
âWhat happened?â
Cass wiped her snot on the cloak, before she signed - âAm I good?â
Am I good? - A question everyone asked themselves at some point.
Am I good? - A question all of them had asked at some point.
Am I good? - Did morality matter when it came to love?
Bruce knew his daughter and that heâd defend her even if it meant defending her against a ruthless and unforgiving world. So, no, it didnât matter to him that Cassandra had been raised an assassin.
But it mattered to his daughter. So it mattered to him.
âAll life is worth itâs existence, Cassandraâ
When fresh tears poured, he knew heâd answered wrong, so he elaborated - âCassandra - â he tried in a soothing tone âLove - you were a child with no choice. But now, now you're someone with a choice. Who you are depends certainly and wholly on you.
And I have faith in your decisions. If you say youâre good - then, in my eyes, youâre good.â
His little speech had her crying for different reasons and they were - again - reasons she couldnât name.
Except this time, she liked the ache in her ribs.
She liked the dopamine she was feeling. She wanted to trust it.
Bruce took her up in an embrace and Cass leaned in.
She wanted to trust him.
But could she?
E : Endless
It was an endless cycle - getting banged up, stitched together and then coming home to you. Only to leave to get banged up again, stitched together again and get to come home to you.
But it was the best part of having a mission. Sitting around case files, planning an ambush, tracing down complicits and planning alibis could sometimes be fun. Sometimes. Most times she left it to th either members of the batfamily - the oneâs who liked playing cat and mouse with criminals.
She preferred the ambush and explicit subduing of crime - it was tangible evidence that she was doing something to contribute to better days for Gotham.
The most annoying part in this cycle was slowing down. Why couldnât she just go on forever?
She enjoyed fighting a concerning amount if Bruceâs worry was anything to go by. But it wasnât as though, she didnât know her limits. She knew her limits well. Her father may have trained her in bloodthirst, but before anything else, heâd trained her in efficiency. Sheâd never abuse her body.
Sheâd learnt a certain respect for bodies - for their abilities, intelligence and power. Itâs one of the reasons she didnât like hurting people much; their bodies didnât deserve it.
Getting patched up was the most boring but important part of the process. Repairing and maintaining the body was crucial to keeping it healthy and alive. She made sure of other things too; like eating well, exercising and all but, alas, no body was immune to damage.
Once patched up, sheâd head home to you.
Home was her favorite part of the process and definitely the most cathartic.
In the beginning of your relationship, youâd waited up for her. Youâd tried keeping up with her erratic lifestyle, but the two of you had quickly learnt that that was no way to function with your lifestyle. It had only led to crankiness, conversation while you were half-asleep and an argument or two that you were both ashamed of.
Now, you no longer waited up for her, but the catharsis on seeing you was immediate and heady as fear toxin in her body.
The strain and tension in her body left, the moment she saw your peacefully sleeping form. You were turned away from her but your form was relaxed. She was glad you were sleeping well.
She sighed. Stripping bare of her costume, she got into bed and stared at the ceiling.
Her mind was far too awake to even take a nap but she had no intention of disturbing you. Instead she went over todayâs fights, the case the batfamily was working on and tried to ignore the yearning she felt for you.
Busy with her mental calculations, she noticed you stirring. Excitement coursed through her and she tried to breathe through the thought of your half-awake gaze.
Then, quickly and quietly youâd wrapped yourself around her. If she could joke without waking you, sheâd say you were an assassin in your own way.
Just as greedily, sheâd wrapped you up in her arms; feeling herself relax further as she took in your scent, your touch, your weight. She sighed.
Neither of you said anything and soon enough you were asleep. But being with you was cathartic and she hoped it lasted for a long while.
D : Decline
Cass worried about the slow decline of age and the slow decline that came with age. And not just when it was about her.
She knew, she was nowhere near ânormalâ - with her work, sleep schedule, friends, family and what-not - and would never be, but as she walked into the room you were in, she worried.
She worried because, you were slumped on a heap on your desk, by your computer - which meant you fell asleep busy.
That wasnât good for any aspect of your health - she thought, standing behind you, hand on your chair.
She leaned in and kissed the back of your neck. You stirred, just the slightest bit and went on sleeping.
Deeply asleep, she concluded.
She headed into the kitchen to get herself the cup of water, sheâd wanted and to prepare for her cruelty. She sipped from her cup as she set a timer. Then, she put her cup away and came towards you.
The timer went off as she stood next to you and you cursed as you woke up, startled on seeing her and cursed again.
She found the whole thing hilarious.
âYes, my darling, Iâm hilariousâ you say, stretching and still half-asleep.
On seeing her, you soften further and reach out for her. Sheâs quickly in your lap and just as quickly, kissing you.
Sometimes you got angry when you felt the guilt that often trailed her fingertips on your skin. Angry because your darling deserved so much from the world that sheâd never gotten.
She deserved so much more than she could even imagine to ask for. Instead of telling her that, you met her guilty lips with fury; fury at the world.
Fury and a bit of guilt of your own.
âDonât feel badâ you murmur against her mouth âI should be in bedâ
She only whimpers in return - short, breathy. And then sheâs kissing you again.
She couldnât help her guilt; it might as well have been a part of her training. But she liked it when the anger in your body melted.
Especially when it melted into softer feelings for her. It was - there were no words for that.
Sheâd never be as eloquent as Jason, as witty as Dick, never nearly as precise or cutting as Damian was but sometimes, she thought, she didnât need any of it.
As long as she could keep an eye on you, could touch you, trace your skin, watch and feel you melt against her - she wouldnât need words.
There werenât words for that, she was sure. And she didnât need them either; not when her greed for you and your touch knew no bounds.
But that was exactly what worried her.
As you lay your foreheads together, your eyes closed - something Cass had learned to do after watching you do it after your first kiss - Cass found she couldnât close her eyes. It worried her sometimes that sheâd have to close her eyes - even if it was to blink -, that sometimes sheâd have to be away, that sometimes there were things she didnât know, nor understand.
And if you kept overworking, there wasnât much she could do to protect you.
On parting your foreheads, she raised her hand to your line of sight; pinky finger slightly curled inwards.
âIâve been sleeping on time, I swearâ you say panicked.
You couldnât let her think youâd been breaking pinky swears. Especially not, when you had slept earlier than your usual, the whole week - which was the time within your pinky swear.
âYou promise?â she signs.
âI swearâ you sign back.
And she smiles. You taste relief on her tongue.
You smile back.
C : Camp
When you walk in, you find Damian sat on the couch, watching animal planet. The hosts of the show were currently setting up their tents and showing the behind-the-scenes of setting up camp, camping, filming and everything and Damian was watching with rapt attention.
He looked cute and murderously focused.
âCass is in the kitchenâ, he says before you could interrupt him.
You nod and find Cass standing before the microwave, presumably popping popcorn.
You walk up to her and with your hands on her waist, spin her around, to find her holding up a bag of frozen peas to her bruised cheek.
Worry clouds your features. âOh - Love, what happened?â
She mimes a punch at herself, smile too bright for someone in pain. Then taking your hand in hers, she leads you to the couch.
âSheâs been looking forward to your date. Told me to tell you.â Damian says - the last bit with practiced nonchalance - eyes still glued to the screen.
Sometimes, he acted exactly like someone his age would.
You assumed she wasnât signing for having to hold up the bag to her face, and while you werenât an expert on body language - as she led you to her room - you had to admit, she seemed way too joyful for someone who was probably in a lot of pain right now.
Upstairs, and safely in her room, you sat on her bed and she sprawled.
âYou are okay, right?â you ask
She nods.
âNo lies?â
She holds up her hand in a gesture, as though to say âscoutâs honourâ - probably learnt from Dick. Which pulls a soft, half - hearted laugh out of you.
Her smile returns.
You talk a bit - about this and that - with something on your mind. Something must have betrayed you, because Cass lay a hand on your arm.
You stop. Then decide to stop lying to yourself. âJust - come hereâ you say.
Murmuring encouragement for her aching body, you sign for her to lay on you. With a bit of shuffling and more murmured encouragement, she lay her head in your lap as you hold the frozen bag to her face.
Her shuddering sigh says all that she couldn't.
She lay there, content as a cat as you play with her hair, sing to her and sometimes talk.
Eyes closed, she nods or laughs, but mostly stays still - in that eerie way, no one else can - and gradually, falls asleep.
You stay there, playing with her hair, till she starts snoring softly. Then you move her off you and onto a pillow.
Laying beside her, you kiss her forehead.
âGood night, darling.â you murmur.
B : Baggage
Standing by the baggage claim, you were exhausted. Travelling always took everything out of you. You bones quite literally ached as you got your baggage and headed towards the exit.
It was a little after midnight, which meant Cass would still be on patrol.
You loathed the thought of walking into your house, when it was devoid of her, but you didnât have much choice.
At the exit, a car waited for you - something you were intensely grateful for. The driver tucked your luggage in the trunk, and then it was a matter of a few hours to your apartment. Gothamâs inaccessibility was still itâs most charming feature.Â
When you wake up; head having lolled against the window, you wake up even more tired than you were before. With a throbbing head and aching bones, you step out of the lavish car and are greeted by a beep.
If the batâs have taught you anything, itâs to never, never ignore them. So, even though you hate the thought of a screen, you check your phone.
Only to be greeted by a text, reading ârooftopâ, by your Cass.
Something in your tired face eases upon reading the text and you let the driver handle getting your luggage home.
You were headed to meet your Cass on the rooftop of your building.
She keeps you waiting only a minute before sheâs scaled the building and is running towards you. Scooped up in her arms and wrapped in her cloak and embrace, you feel warm.
She buries her face into your neck; lips on your pulse and you chuckle in tickled delight.
How she manages to hold you tight and slightly off the ground, after a night of work, you donât know, but it was probably her ex-assassin training, and although youâre usually one to hate on it for the two of you, combined, tonight - like many other times - you take delight in her strength.
It made you feel safe.
She sways the two of you and kisses your pulse over and over, enjoying how you squirm and giggle,
And then you pull away, but not out of her embrace. Cass still didnât like gestures of affection outside the apartment - made her feel vulnerable, as sheâd told you. So, you were grateful for her having allowed this much.
Before you could lean in for a kiss, she nodded her head slightly to the left; gesturing to something. You turn your head to find Jason and Tim standing on the next buildingâs rooftop - watching the two of you.
You turn back and murmur, âDonât feel badâ. Poor words, but truthful words.
It was okay that this was all she could allow.
It was okay that she still needed to feel safe.
She had nothing to feel ashamed about.
Your hands on her cheeks; thumb tapping them, you lean in for a kiss. And she presses her mouth against your; chaste but intense.
You pull back and, although, she doesnât get why your eyes sparkle when you look at someone so weak, she doesnât deny that it makes warmth settle in her bones.
She presses a kiss to your cheek and you understand that she has to leave.
âIâll wait for youâ, you tell her.
She nods.
And then sheâs off.
That youâd wait for her, is something you tell her often, and she trusts you when you say it.
Often, though, she likes to think of that phrase out of context. She likes to think of the way youâd waited patiently for her to open up, to trust you, to show affection.
How youâd never rushed her to âbe normalâ.
How youâd never rushed her to trust you.
Youâd let her come to you. Youâd waited for her.
And that thought - one she had often - often left her glowing.
A : Amnesia
Your gaze hadnât left Cassandraâs face since youâd gotten here. Your eyes had found Cassâ face and stayed stuck. The batfamily had made space and then, you were holding her hand, sitting by her side; waiting and watching for her colours to change.
The colours around you were murky - greyâs and blueâs and other shades and tones of distress. It had choked you; you hadnât dared ask.
You and the batfamily stood around Cass, everyoneâs gaze focused on either you or Cass ; even the oneâs, not hovering in the immediate vicinity.
Slowly, so slowly, that you thought you were imagining it, her colours started darkening.
âKnocked on her headâ Jason said. You donât know what had given you away, but perhaps nothing had - the batfamily werenât experts on microexpressions for nothing.
You nodded.
âLucky, if she wonât have amnesiaâ Dick said, testing you.
You made a small sound of distress, but your eyes never left Cassâ face. Jason shot Dick a dirty look.
Neither of them said anything after that; assured you werenât keeping secrets or lying.
Gradually, her colours came alive with fear.
You shushed her and caressed her hair, murmuring âItâs just us, darling. Just us. Weâre here. Youâre okay. Itâs okay. Weâre all okay.â
You kept murmuring assurances and shushing her and caressing her short, filthy hair as exclamations, sighs and groans burst around you.
She was awake - thatâs all anyone couldâve hoped for; itâs what all of you had hoped for.
Slowly, quietly, her colours changed again and she was dreaming; a happy dream, you knew.
âGet something to eatâ Batman said; quiet as a reverent father.
You shook your head. Youâd stay here till she woke up.
Batman huffed and told Jason to get you a sandwich - which set off a new cacophony of banter between the whole family.
But you were fed and hydrated and watched over as you watched over your Cass.
Because the batfamily took care of their own. And you were just that - one of their own.
Chapter 1
Long ago, when it was just the two of them, Light and Darkness lay sprawled over each other.
It had been just them for millenia now and they were quite content. They didnât have much to do, nor much to look after and spent most of their time tucked into each other.
What happened next, was purely an accident - the birth of the Sun and the Moon.
They had been talking, when, on a sudden whim Light tagged Darkness and gave chase.
They ran after each other by turns and in their joy, gave birth to the Sun and the Moon where their feet touched the void.
Of them came the Sun and the Moon and of the Sun and the Moon came questions of identity.
They - the Sun and the Moon - hadnât known who they were. Only that they were together.
Their beginnings were rough. They fought a lot and it was centuries before they got into the pattern of going around the earth.
Of their decision came the lineage of the Sun; people who traced their ancestry from the Sun and worshipped it.
Everyone knew that the Sun and the Moon were disharmonious; only causing trouble whenever they were together but Francis saw differently.
Wasnât keeping distance from each other, itâs own kind of harmony? Didnât it show grace and wisdom? Wasnât it the result one of companionship, even if it were strange?
Francisâ teacher bowed his head and called Francis wise but secretly, he disagreed.
Everyone knew that the Sun and the Moon did not get along and a young prince was no force of nature, let alone someone powerful enough to change reality.
Francis had learnt of such betrayals at a young age; itâs what made his nature so reserved and his heart so troubled.
He knew there was no one in the palace; in fact, no one in the world who would oppose him. He was, after all, heir to the Sun kingdom but what good was their âloveâ if it was based on blind acquiescence?
So, to cope with such stings, Francis kept himself lonely on purpose.
He spent his time alone and grew a penchant for it.
He grew an imagination and wit to rival the finest in the world and he also grew a reserve that no one could penetrate.
A rose with thorns was what Francis had become and no one dared prick themselves on his reserve for who knew what malicious thoughts festered in that lonely mind?
Who knew what would become of them once they angered the lonely prince?
Chapter 2
FFC 2026: Alphabet Challenge!
Hey everyone! It has been an incredibly hectic year, to say the least, but we will in fact be having a February Ficlet Challenge for 2026! This year's theme is the alphabet: 26 letters for 2026! (Plus some Special Secret Prompts at the end of the month.)
For those new to the Challenge, here's how it works: every day in February, there will be two prompts posted on this Tumblr. Your challenge is to write a ficlet of at least 200 words in a single day using at least one of the prompts, and post it to the AO3 collection.
For a harder challenge, use a different pairing each day. For the hardest mode, make up a list of pairings that you'd like to write ahead of time, and use whichever is next in line!
There are no restrictions on content, fandom, pairing, or format; 200 words is the minimum but you can absolutely go longer if you want to. The collection will remain open for a full year, so if you can't quite finish a ficlet in time, or if you want to come back and write one later, you're welcome to do so.
One month. Twenty-eight prompts. Twenty-eight pairings. One ficlet a day. Write Fast.
might try
anyone have any cassandra cain x reader fic recs??