Bespoken.Bullshit

There are so many vibes and one of my favorites is talking to that person in the comments who comments regularly. It starts off with a nice comment and you’re like, ‘Heey, thanks for reading’ but there’s this level of polite distance. Then suddenly they comment every time you update because they like that fandom and you get to be like ‘YOU! You’re back! How was your weekend?! Sorry I left this story on a cliffhanger but what can you do??’

It’s the moment of talking to someone as a polite stranger vs commenting mystery man! It’s a slow uphill battle of sharing an interest with someone.

There are the new readers that show up out of the mist and suddenly leave comments on everything you’ve ever written and you feel like a literary master because this one person thinks your writing is good. 

Someone recently just spent days going through most of my works, reading and leaving heart emoji’s. The reading took days, and the commenting took seconds but I felt you with me daily and the positive reinforcement this person offered me was off the charts. 

There are the people who leave whole novels in the comments, talking about what they liked and loved and what they were and weren't expecting. I’m gonna respond to those! Having someone as excited about a scene as you are is fucking priceless. 

There are those people that just leave emoji’s or a customary ‘good chapter’ and I love them for it. They took time out of their day just to be like, I like this. And that makes my whole day. I’ve heard some people say that they don’t leave comments because they don’t know what to say and I'm telling you ‘Good chapter’ covers a lot. Short and sweet and any author would appreciate it. 

There are people who’s account names I know, not because they’ve ever commented but because they’ve left kudos on literally everything I've ever posted. It’s so strangely meaningful. I see you. I see you and we don’t need words because you visited me with your kudos, and you didn’t have to bother but you did. 

There are a few people who bookmark the hell out of my works, and they likely have 10,000 things bookmarked and I'm floored that over 200 of them are me! That’s still an insane ratio and any time I question my writing, I just gotta remember that someone liked my stories enough to bookmark them to the point where I recognize their account name. 

There are the people who like my work enough they found me on Tumblr or Discord and they get a glimpse at other weird fandoms I like or how manic my writing process can be and how many of these people now help me brainstorm more material and they are part of the process. 

I’ve absorbed facts, scenarios, and names through other peoples head canons and fandom communities are often just full of cool people. 

Sharing recommended stories with these people is equally cool, and now I see me and my own commenters in the comment section of someone else’s story and that feels like another evolutionary chain. 

Now it’s like i have a slightly different relationship with anyone that leaves a comment and you never know what it’ll turn into. I’m genuinely just glad most people are having a good time reading. Just because I write for myself doesn’t mean I'm not thrilled when other people enjoy it too. 

I have no real point to this but in a time where spam comments have increased, I just really love the real people who are talking a second to bullshit with me. It’s important for morale!

⚠️FLASH WARNING AND SLIGHT GORE⚠️

Guys I had a vision... should I go for it?

depression

antidepressants

that damn phone

Daniel Masters is rarely seen outside the labs and Vlad's business and personal partner. Neither of the men wore rings, whispers of at least two children came from off-handed statements.

Despite his name being on every patent, despite being directly involved with the management of the company, and despite the age listed on his identification, Danny was young. Too young and nervous, eyes always on the exits or the security.

The family showed up quickly in Gotham. Phantom Labs and their medical inventions caused an eruption in the market. Direct valuations of the company couldn't be evaluated accurately, only that they were growing more rapidly than any Gotham before them.

"I don't like your questions, Mr. Wayne."

Digging into the Masters hadn't been easy. Their identities were good fakes, there was nothing behind it. No history, no former trail, and no one good or bad seemed to have any clue who they were.

Vlad and Danny had both attended the Wayne Charity Gala, the first time the pair was seen in public. The dynamic between them was close, with hushed conversations and words shared over single looks.

Unlike Vlad, Danny had hesitated on his name. Unlike Vlad, Danny squirmed when conversing with other socialites.

None of it looked good, especially not for Danny.

That was until Bruce tried to open a conversation, and was cut down by the young man underneath.

"You have to get out of here before he sees you- run."

Danny had caught them immediately. With Phantom Labs storing its main servers and laboratory at the Master's Manor, the Bats and birds had to start there. Their comms crackled with static when they entered the manor and the video feed from their masks glitched.

But it hadn't been soon enough. There was plenty to see, with the soft green glow of the lab lights still on. The locked-up rooms had strange labels, notes written in a language with no human ties, and a large sealed door with enough safety measures to take weeks to break into.

Danny hadn't tripped the alarms. Instead, he shut them down, dragging the vigilantes with constant glances behind his shoulder. They passed one room labeled Danielle, and another labeled Danoir.

It had taken the end of the world for Danny to finally understand Vlad. To understand that unrelenting obsession. He had it too now after all.

Maybe he would've felt more if there had been someone, anyone, left. By the time he got to Ellie, Dan, and Vlad the GIW had burned through Amity like a plague. It wasn't one big explosion, but several choked-off bleeding deaths. It was his parent's first at the entrance. Bloodstains from the GIW spell out their acceptance of him. Then his friends, plants and tech litter the hallways. It was Jazz who shut down the cage, three dead agents, and his big sister full of bullet holes at the lab door.

He returned every bit of agony. No longer bothering to hold back or even keep up pretense. GIW labs were razed to the ground. Shredding through white suits and turning them red. He killed them. He never stopped to check.

He found them in another cell. Vlad was covered in wounds with two small beings kept behind him. Snarling like a beast until he recognized Danny.

They'd fled, quickly. Keeping Ellie and Dan's eyes hidden from the carnage. Took as much tech, money, and equipment as they could scrounge up. Vlad hadn't asked about Maddie- he didn't need to.

Danny had watched Vlad set the portal to destruct. He'd done it for the one in his basement. He'd done it to every imitation that the GIW had created. Vlad had set it to explode, and running the calculations in his head, he knew that over half of the world would be taken with it. The following aftershocks, gravitational destabilization, earthquakes, tsunamis, eruptions- the odds of any survival only got slimmer.

Danny had spent years protecting Amity from ghosts. Protecting ghosts from humans. Now all he had to protect was the broken man beside him and his two children in his arms.

-

When human hunger started to claw at all of their stomachs, they settled in Gotham. Enough ectoplasm and no questions asked to settle. The chunks of gold Danny sold off from Pariah's keep to buy identities, a manor, and a lab were nothing but a drop in the ocean.

Vlad, once the tremors in his hands calmed and he only needed a cane to walk, got to work on building a new business. Deals sprouting up that were shady on both sides and always in Vlad's favor.

Going in a medical direction had been entirely Danny's fault. Making inventions that would've saved them. Designing a brace to help Vald walk after even ectoplasm didn't fix the torture. He spent a lot of time in the lab, with enough safety precautions that nothing would ever happen. When he made his own portal, there was no sacrifice. A secure door ensured that nothing from the other side would come through.

Vlad sent out duplicates to handle the outside world. In all reality, he couldn't be out of sight of any of them. While two kid rooms and Vlad's had been set up, most nights Danny woke up to everyone in his bed. Vlad likes to watch them sleep and Danny got used to red eyes and two small snores.

When Danny finally felt things begin to normalize, someone started to poke their nose in.

-

"Danny- Masters," he nearly slipped and said Fenton, "Call me Danny."

Unfortunately, Danny had kind of made himself into Vlad's husband. Danny had lied on his ID to be older, and Vlad had lied to be younger. Sharing his last name had been to make things easier, and it's not like he used it in the labs or at home. Vlad hinted about having children with him, he was happy to brag even if he kept any specifics shrouded in mystery. The gold ring with a ruby Vlad occasionally wore, unfortunately, fit onto his left ring finger.

Danny wanted to cry and laugh at the fact that Vlad had wanted to make him his son, and now they were married with kids. At least he was pretending to be old enough that he down several fancy champagne flutes.

"I don't like your questions," it took him a moment to register that this was the host Bruce Wayne, "Mr. Wayne."

The man smiled sure, pretended to be an idiot, and wouldn't shut up about his kids. Danny had to assume the worst, and the worst seemed to be true. The man was questioning Danny, trying to ask about his kids. Trying to ask about his past.

Danny hadn't left hundreds of bodies in his wake and let the world burn for some rich asshole to dig his nose where it didn't belong.

"You have to get out of here before he sees you-"

Danny had felt their prescence in his lab, next to his portal. The kids were asleep in bed with him. Vlad had finally been convinced to sleep. Dani was curled into his side, only drifting off when he'd promised to stay up and watch instead. Using his phone to check the cameras he saw two vigilantes.

Batman and Red Robin- Bruce Wayne and Tim Drake.

He slipped out of bed carefully, flying through walls. He'd only have a minute or two, then Vlad would wake up panicked.

Getting the vigilantes out had been like herding cats. If he wanted to expose his powers he'd just scruff both of them and toss them out. He kept his mouth pressed tight, fangs itching in his mouth. He'd almost gotten them to the window when he felt Vlad's ecto start to wake.

"Run."

He says, shoving them both out of a window with more strength than a human should have. It was a second-story window but they'd be fine. He barely has time to close the window before Vlad is there, clawing him into a hug.

"You were gone-" he hisses. Eyes burning, fangs gleaming.

"Just had to take care of something," he soothes. Pulling Vlad back to his room. The man refuses to fall asleep. Danny just sighes and goes to bed on his own.

-

Despite no shift in his breathing, Danny knew the man was awake. He could just feel it. Bruce Wayne, Batman, Matches Malone, and a dozen other masks. On the nights Vlad was a little more feral he could get away with leaving a duplicate with him. He couldn't make it move or speak, but on those nights it didn't matter. It freed up some time to follow a little robin back to bat cave, and then up to manor. A manor where they thought it was free to speak.

“You can stop pretending Bruce,” there’s a tightness in the man’s lips. Likely due to the fact that it was Batman whom Danny had taken. It had been easy too, this world didn’t have the technology to detect Vlad or him, much less handle them. Even the magic here wouldn’t affect them, not unless they had very old and niche sources. And magic users, the bats and the birds were not.

Bruce’s eyes opened, head tilting to look at where Danny sat. 

“I gave you a chance to run,” the boy starts out, noting how Batman tries to slip out of the Fenton works cuffs on his wrists and ankles, “I told you I didn’t like questions, and yet you kept digging.”

Batman hesitates to answer. The Gotham vigilantes had been working off of the assumption that Daniel Masters and his children were trapped. A dry laugh had ripped from his throat the first time he heard it within their cave.

He must recognize the lab, now with dim lights on. A table with restraints lies behind Danny, a dozen belt straps glinting. A gun, futuristic and glowing green, lies at the end closest to him.

“Are you planning to kill me?” the man asks neutrally. The exit door is locked, and the vents are too small for even Robin to fit through. Not that anyone knew where they were in the first place. 

“I’d rather not,” he shrugs, leaning back into his seat, “If I kill you, that means I’d have to kill them all.” His knuckles squeeze, and he can feel the waver of emotion from the hero. He knows he could. Part of him considered it when the man was unconscious. What’s one more nightmare?

“Should I kill you, that means all heroes and villains have to die. Probably their families too,” he answers coldly, and Batman’s breath begins to quicken, “My patience is short. I’d rather not end things again, which leads us to this.”

Danny gestures between them. His eyes show heavy bags of exhaustion. Bruce takes the chance to sit up, The bindings on his ankles have enough length he doesn’t have to kneel, but not a length to walk or run with. 

“And what is this?” he asks. It’s only been a few hours since Bruce was taken, not that he’d know it without any clocks in the lab. His trackers are still in place, along with all of his tech. It will do him no good, as non-ecto tech won't work within the Master's manor. 

“Negotiations,” he chirps, fangs itching in his mouth, “I want you to leave my family entirely alone. No pesky heroes, no hypocritical billionaire attention. Let us finally have peace.”

“And if I don’t,” he tests. 

Before the mortal man can blink, his arms are pinned beneath him as he’s slammed into the ground. A pained groan rips from his mouth. He tries to kick backward along the floor, but Danny’s claws sink into him. When he can finally pull his head up, he sees gleaming fangs. 

Beneath the predatory smile, an arm goes through his chest. Right where his heart is, claws tracing around its chambers. It feels warm, shivering in his hold. Batman is just liminal enough to feel his presence. 

To have the proper instincts. Not to fight, not to run, not to hide, to submit. 

“I told you I don’t have the patience anymore,” his fangs snap above the Dark knight’s face, “I promise if you underestimate me you won’t survive it.” 

Danny’s arm can feel the lungs of the man breathing around his arm. How they struggle when he puts a little more pressure on the organ. It would be easy to just-

When Danny removes his hand, the man’s body sags in relief. He knows that there isn’t real blood on his fingers, but it feels like it regardless. Instead of acknowledging them, he hides them behind his back, balled into tight fists.

“So, ready to talk now,” Danny stands up, with shadows stretching behind him, “Or should I just go and kill your children?”

A breath escapes Batman’s body. More of a wheeze. Pulling himself back up, the man kept his head bowed. 

Danny’s hands tighten to where his claws draw blood. 

Good.

-

Batman was used to being hit. From his fights in high school, training with various masters, and being a vigilante it had all led to his fair share of bruises. 

This was unlike anything else. A hand within his chest. Claws tangled within his veins and arteries. Something there and yet not. Every fiber of his being screaming at him- not to fight or flee- but to submit. 

There isn't blood or a bruise, and yet it feels like a terrible wound all the same.

In a matter of moments, the case of Danny Masters was flipped onto his back like he was. It takes several breaths to recover- or should I just go and kill your children? Right now he couldn't protect himself, much less them.

A click cuts through the fogginess and the shackles on his ankles release. Blood and oxygen start to flow again.

“Sorry for scaring you,” the boy sighs, the shadows retreating to normalcy. He can’t help but feel like there’s something in them, something within his own. When the small amount of light returns, he can make out scars littering the boy’s legs. Precise rectangles, long lines, and circles around the ankle and knees. 

“I just- I don’t want to have to run again. We’re fucked up and broken, they broke all of us,” a second click, and the wrist shackles fall off of him, “I’ve got it handled. So will you please let it be?”

Daniel Masters holds a blood-speckled hand out to him. A circular scar around his wrist, blunt human nails at the end of it. The boy who knows their identities- who caught him without remembering. The boy with a monster beneath his skin. 

His eyes are blue, and baby fat still sits on his cheeks.

Bruce takes his hand, minimally surprised at the strength he uses to raise him. 

There was too much of a threat to leave it be. Too much of a threat to intervene. He wants to help the children and Danny, but it’s quite clear he doesn’t know how to yet. Danny’s hand is still loosely holding onto his, a blank expression taking over the young face.

What ultimately moves him, changes him, is the scar that peeks out from his sleep shirt. Danny’s zoning out gives him time to study it. 

A long line under the collarbone, going to his sides. From the center a line starts to cut down. He doesn’t want to recognize it. Does want to see it on boy who looks like he could fit in with his own children. 

“What do you need?” Perhaps he’d have to start here. 

Danny startles, looking up to him, “What?”

“How can we help? If there’s someone who hurt you we can help,” he asks as Danny pulls away. 

“They’re dead,” Danny says to both himself and him, “Just old nightmares. Come on, I should probably let you go.”

The boy turns to the elevator, typing the proper code into it to open the doors. Looking over his shoulder the boy gestures for him to come. Batman obeys, stepping into the space. The doors close for a short journey to a manor hallway, close to the main entrance. 

Danny gets the doors, letting Batman through. It is still night, but a small glow in the east tells him it won’t be for long. The cold night air doesn’t make Danny shiver, nor do goosebumps rise on his skin. 

“You should be okay from here. Just don’t forget what I told you Bruce.”

His name is a reminder of the threat. 

Pulling a bat beacon out of its place on his utility belt he holds it out to the boy, “If you ever need us, just press the signal.”

Danny takes the small item, turning it around to inspect it. He slips it into his pocket- which is the best outcome Batman has had all night.

“6.62,” Danny meets his eyes with a firm voice.

Bruce pauses, head tilting for a further explanation. 

“Approximately 6.62 billion people Bruce Wayne,” Danny smears the blood around on his hands whilst frowning, “Don’t make me do it again.”

The boy monster vanishes in front of his eyes.