independent,   selective,   private⠀ multi-muse   of   various   mixed   media   characters. ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ written   by   kaidan.    (20,  he/him)

he  always  manages to find himself in the most unpleasant situations—  at this rate,  he’s beginning to wonder if  leaving  the  house  is actually an ideal choice.    joseph didn’t  mean  to be late to the mall,  but that afternoon nap sounded  so  lovely  &  before he knew it,  his two-hour nap had transformed into a five-hour nap.    being 10 minutes late was acceptable,  but two hours?    that’s  another  level of tardiness  &  even joseph knows it.    truth be told,  he’s  shocked  yukako even waited for him—  although,  the shopping bags in her right hand share a  different  tale.

                                  “  ouch!  that one  almost  hurt my heart.  ”    joseph nearly rolls his eyes but refrains him,  instead choosing to let out a huff.    teal hues linger on yukako,  a sympathetic glint taking aim at her.    “  i’m  really  sorry  &  i mean it.    i overslept  &  granny erina wasn’t home.  ”    sixteen years old  &  still  needing erina to be his alarm clock—  it was almost comical. 

“  ah—  don’t believe in bad hands.    too many factors in the thought—  it  is  entire  definition  of  fate  &  whether  it  exists.    having the capability of  changing  said bad hand before it happens,  or  gambling  with the chance of  playing your cards right.    definition of  winning  is dependent to the source,  as well.    too many factors.    too tiresome.  ”    mordin pauses before going any further into his  technical  definition,  head shaking.    she’s only trying to be helpful  &  he notes it tentatively,  treading carefully further into the conversation.

anger  is  familiar  to  cass,  coating  her  heart  as  venom  coats  a  blade.  she  knew  this  would  most  likely  be  a  suicide  mission,  knew  when  she’d  snuck  out,  scribbled  in  the  margins  of  the  apology  note  she’d  left  barbara  and  alfred.  cassandra’s  only  hope  is  that  when  her  plan  blows  up  in  her  face,  she’ll  take  dick  down  with  her. 

“my  brothers…are  dead,”  it’s  spat  from  a  clenched-jawed  mouth,  the  fist  of  her  working  hand  tight  around  the  wooden  stake.  she’s  practically  shaking:  her  prized  control  over  her  emotions  thrown  to  the  wilds.  her  other  arm  remains  in  its  sling,  cast  stark-white  against  the  black  of  her  batgirl  suit.  she’s  had  her  arm  broken  before  of  course,  by  cain  so  she  would  know  how  it  felt,  but  this  –  barbara,  dick,  bruce  –  was  supposed  to  be  different.  forever.  this  was  supposed  to  be  family. 

under  the  cowl,  her  eyes  flick  down  to  her  brother’s  the  monster’s  hands,  palms  up.  hands  that  snapped  human  bone  like  dry  wood,  that  had  ripped  through  the  chest  of  the  closest  thing  any  of  them  had  to  a  father  and  tore  out  his  heart.  she  rips  off  her  mask  (reckless)  with  one  hand,  wants  dick  to  see  her  face  when  she  kills  him,  and  yes,  she  is  crying.  “we  said  don’t  kill.  we  promised…  never  kill.”  he  has  betrayed  them:  their  family,  their  creed.  their  world.  the  bat  that  cassandra  still  wears  on  her  chest  made  meaningless  by  every  death  on  nightwing’s  hands  – supposed  to  be  the  best  of  us.  cass  thinks  of  barbara,  crying  when  she  thinks  cass  can’t  hear,  blaming  herself.  thinks  of  stephanie,  too,  who’s  vanished  somewhere  that  even  oracle’s  eyes  can’t  find.  cass  should  move,  should  lunge  for  dick  while  he’s  distracted.  instead  she  says  (begs,  demands),  “why?”

she doesn’t see the vision—  none of them understands it.    he knows what they’re saying about him:  murderer,  sadistic,  evil.    deep down,  dick can feel the guilt rumbling about,  locked away deep to never be touched again.    [it doesn’t make it any easier to  live  with,  though.]     on the bottom of his shoes,  if he were to look down,  he’d see the splatters of tim’s brain  &  his blood smeared across the top.    he feels  rotten;  visceral,  feral  &  raw.    there is no coming back from this.    there is no turning back now;  bruce is dead,  jason is dead,  tim is dead  &  everyone else will be dead in just a matter of time.   looking at cass only furthers the plunging guilt in his stomach—  but he shakes it off.   he  has  to.

dick almost rolls his eyes—  brothers.   (they  were  mine  too.)    by now,  he can only imagine their bodies are floating throughout the gotham harbor,  sinking;  it’s all he can hope.    he doesn’t want this nightmare,  just  like  she  doesn’t.    it’s a waste of his time—  he knows the  only  available outcome  &  no matter what,  the  vampires  have  to  succeed.   extinction is the only other route  &  he’ll  assure  that doesn’t happen.    he is their lord  &  no one will become an obstacle in their path—  not even cassandra.

he has mostly been imprisoned within the oceanview motel.       imprisoned is maybe a tough word.     taking a vacation in the oceanview.     she could have easily cleared out one of the many containment cells—  stuck him in one like an overactive oop.     but no!     he gets the luxury of the interdimensional motel.     until he makes the right choice.

it isn’t her usual job.     less control the flow of time,   more screwing with dimensional planes.     but frank woods became an exception.     a fascination,  honestly.     (because you remember how history went down,  don’t you?   it doesn’t end with nuclear bombs or the destruction of europe—  stupid board,  stupid broken timeline).     he doesn’t need to know where bell is—  the fact that galina is located in the panopticon will just distract him.

< @uncrucify​ must be corrected/kept on the narrow/focused > it had crackled down the hotline,  a reminder as she’d dragged herself into the oceanview (one pull,  two pull,  three pull) and offered him a hand,     ‘  do you want to come to the oldest house?    stretch your legs?     change of scenery?  ’          & that’s how they’d ended up chucked out into the cafeteria (after an embarrassing amount of difficulty getting the key to leave this time around).

‘  don’t refer to it as a building.     it gets offended.     and watch your step—  it sometimes changes around.   ’       the ever suffering of finding new recruits after the hiss had resulted in two people being dropped down the stairs by a petulant building that was upset as being referred to as such  &  she isn’t keen to repeat that encounter.       ‘   —also,   apparently there is a  shark  roaming around however.     let me know if you see it because i’m slightly embarrassed this has happened twice.  ’

it’s a bunch of bullshit.    he’s like a rat,  locked in a cage  &  being watched with his every movement—  he’s  a  goddamn  lab  rat.    maybe he deserves it—  maybe this was the payback for all the sins he’d committed in the past;  his own personal crucifixion.   (one blink  &  he’s back in philly on the streets,  playing with the kids he’d grown up with  &  swore  an  oath  to  protect.    another blink  &  he’s sat across from mason in laos,  a gun between them spinning—  russian roulette between him  &  his best friend.    the final blink  &  he’s back in west berlin,  watching as galina  lies  tells the truth of where peresus’ nukes were.)    

it’s official:  he’s going absolutely insane.

jesse’s arrival is nothing short of a scoff  &  roll of his eyes,  but he’ll do  anything  to get the fuck out of the oceanview.    (he’s resorted to counting the cracks in the walls—  that’s  how  long  the  days  get.)    leaving the oceanview is  never  easy,  though   &  his patience runs thins;  his  patience  grows  thinner  every  day.    it’s bullshit but they finish the goddamn puzzle  &  finally leave the oceanview—  thank fucking god.   

but  nothing  is  ever  easy.    a goddamn shark?    (who the  fuck  comes up with these types of things?)    the cherry on top of having to spend time with the person he  hates  the most.    not  nearly  as much as castro,  but high on the totem-pole.    before going any further into the  building  structure,  he stops,  eyes widening like a deer in headlights.    ❛   wait,  wait—  a fucking  shark?   ❜    inhale  /  exhale,  his expression shows  pure  aghast.    

someone smarter then barbara might be afraid.     in all fairness,   there isn’t a huge amount of people who are smarter then barbara.     maybe someone with a little more common sense.     he’s bloodstained,   still ripe and barely begun to stain his suit.     she’s almost tempted to ask whose blood it is but the fact and matter is:   he’ll answer truthfully and she isn’t sure she wants that.     all the goodness in him has rotted,   peeled away like the outer skin of an orange  &  left something decayed underneath.     she’s staring at the skin of the man she loved,   puppeted by the hands of death.     he’s nothing more then a marionette having his strings plucked.     it was such a gentle death that no one saw it.     the way the mold and rot must have set in,   poisoning him and corrupting him into the creature she sees before him.     another death in the family,   it seems.

there is no escape route this time.     no daring quick exit for batgirl as she takes to the skies!     she’s here,   open  &  splayed;   vulnerable to whatever his intentions.     she can’t outrun him—   only outplay him.     hope that his mind is clouded by greed and hunger, enough for her to slip past his defenses and slide a stake into his heart.     after all,   his heart belongs to her.     she can do what she wants with it.

this is her hell,   her underworld.     this is her punishment for stealing fire.     a modern prometheus indeed.     there is no point to running,   no point in unlocking her breaks and trying to escape his presence as he steps towards her.     it might be easy—   to make her feel little.     gaze upon down from her own his high horse as she sits snuggly in her wheelchair.     but she’s barbara fucking gordon— both the best and worst parts of gotham distilled by rage and determination.     she will not fall this time.

he’s become more then a robin,   more then just a blue bird in the sky.     he’s an ill omen,   a strix—   born of a metamorphosis and forced to feed upon human flesh and blood.     but this is a bloodsport and only one of them is leaving the rooftop alive tonight.

‘  you’re mourning?     you’re the one who killed them!     you slaughtered them like cattle.     and you’re not even sorry—  ’      maybe she should have let ollie tell her what he’d done.     it might have worked as a ploy on his humanity, remind him what he did.       ‘  and what is the greater good?     one bite from a vampire and you’ve suddenly switched sides—   all those years of humanity down the drain?     no chance for a peaceful co-existence?     i’ll even throw in a weekly snack session if you need a bite.  ’       it’s a foolish dream and an even more foolish offer,   tainted with childish sarcasm.     how does it go again?     the gods grew weary,   the eagles grew weary,   the wound closed wearily.

it feels like she’s being pulled apart  &  put back together constantly,   her seams being ripped up and clumsily sewn back together.     waves of rage and sadness,   moments of clarity and clouds of doubt.       ‘  i am on your side.     i promised you—   i promised i’d always come when you need me.     and i think you need me now more then ever.     because i have to believe you’re in there.  ’       because she’s got to cling onto her childish faith for now.     to believe that she doesn’t have to make her sacrifice (but you always have to be the one to lose,   don’t you barbara?).

and how terrible it is.     as long as there is love,   there will be grief.     love was here.     it still is.     because she might have been willing to cleave herself faithful for him once but now her heartbeat remains steady,   humming in her own ears with a dulled beat.     i will not be afraid.     she is a fool,   a lover—  someone desperately clinging to dead hopes.       ‘  preferably neither.     but i suppose if you must,   i’d like to be cremated.     as long as you spread them somewhere nice.     maybe let me change my will first.     actually,   i supposed the slayer rule nullifies that.     you murder me,   you don’t get the things i’ve left for you.     but should you turn your teeth on me,   dick— i suggest you dig two graves.     i won’t be the only one needing it.  ’

there’s something  frightening  about him  &  in a way,  it almost frightens himself.    when he departs from the skyscraper later this evening,  will he be able to recognize himself in a mirror?    will he be able to see  his  gaze staring back at him?    he can only imagine how babs feels,  staring at him but witnessing a  completely  different  person;  even from how far away he’s standing,  he can still feel the hybrid of sadness  &  anger radiate off her like the sun.    he’s a blood-soaked monster with an unwavering thirst;  for the first time during their interaction,  she’s comprehensible to him.    every word she speaks hits him  directly  in the gut  &  he feels every word resonate deep inside.    if there was any remainder of his humanity inside him,  the words are being fed to it.    she’s always been his sun  &  now,  SHE’S  THE  DARKNESS  BLOCKING  HIM  FROM   HIS  FUTURE.

dick halts himself from approaching her any further,  his original smile being smeared from his face  &  for a momentary second,  dick grayson returns.    his cerulean hues shine through the darkness  &  radiate the  heart  everyone recognizes him for;  red being replaced with his signature shade of blue.    [the  heart  of their little universe.]    he’s heard the title for  years  but right now,  it makes him want to vomit.    he’d rather eat that sentence whole  &  vomit it right back up.]    he wasn’t expecting to lean into her resistance,  nor was he anticipating resistance  at  all  from her,  but he realizes it’s the humanity inside her soul—  the one crucial thing he’s missing  &  instead,  has allowed to fester  &  rot.    he’s sold his soul to the  devil  &  replaced his pearly white teeth with those of the boogeyman,  allowing himself to lurk in the shadows  &  wait for the proper moment to strike his prey.    he’d finally chosen  tonight  &  now,  the door to his  newfound  future  awaits.

on the other side of the door stares back at  terrible,  dark  emptiness  of a cycle that’ll continue on  &  on forever.    he’ll never be capable of filling the  void  inside him  &  no matter how hard babs tries,  she’ll never be able to fill the void either.    the primal instinct sets back into its place—  all other matters of the past don’t have a reign of care to them anymore.    he’s king of the vampires.    no matter how hard she tries,  nothing  will  be  able  to  change  that.

❛  i thought out of  everyone,  you’d be the one to see the vision.    you’ve always been so smart...   it’s all gone out the  fucking  window,  though!  ❜    his voice raises at the end of his sentence,  personalized rage becoming clearer with every second.    he doesn’t move,  though.    he stands still,  his eyes never straying from the redhead.    ❛  my brothers didn’t see it,  bruce didn’t see it,  &  neither do you.  ❜    there’s no point in continuing this—  she  won’t  change  her  mind.    (she thinks i’m a monster—  if she thinks i’m a monster,  then so be it.    i’ll be a goddamn monster.)    his thoughts circulate too fast,  his mouth opening  &  words spewing before he has the chance to stop  himself.    ❛  i slaughtered them because  there  was  no  other  choice—  i’m giving you a choice.    i’m giving you the chance to be on my side  &  to help me.  ❜ 

maybe there is still a  hint  of humanity in his rotten soul.    maybe he  is  more than the blood stained on his clothes  &  the hunger causing the growling in his stomach.

king  of  the  vampires  /  lord  of  the  vampires:  it’s a title he  still  hasn’t grown quite used to just yet.    every passing second makes it easier,  though;  the sapid metallic blood lingers on the tip of his tongue,  leaving him wanting more  &  more until he’s filled to the brim—  diana is his  partner,  damian is being made of use even in his condition—  things  are  beginning  to  look  up.    even at the top with earth in the palm of your hand,  every ounce of power yours to seize:  it gets lonely.    [FOR  ONCE,  CAN’T  A  BROTHER  JOIN  ME?]    a sister would do,  though—  his eyes remaining trained on cassandra.    

connecting the dots is easy—  babs  is  the  obvious  answer.    the eyes  &  ears of gotham,  hands in every stygian corner pulling information—  like a magician pulling a rabbit out of a hat.    cass intercepted in  typical  batgirl fashion,  the heroic act to  save  the  day;  it  does  make the situation easier for dick,  though.    she stands right in front of him,  her anger palatable.    [anger isn’t the route to go:  look  where  that  got  jason.]    it’ll make it easier to either  kill  or  convince  her.    the choice will be hers—  it doesn’t mean dick will accept the answer,  though.

❛  i know you’re angry,  cass;  if i could take that away,  i would.    but there are things you don’t understand—  give  me  the  chance  to  explain.  ❜    a pause,  his hands raising in the motion of a  surrender.    the white flag—  a moment of truce.    

they’re dead.     they’re all dead.     brutally massacred.     a hoard of corpses left in gotham harbor,   rotting away as they succumb to their eventual fate as fish food.     left to join the countless others thrown into that ocean,   becoming nothing but a nameless corpse that will never be identified,   just another pile of jane and john doe’s.     a slaughterhouse in his wake.     and she’s left the in the carnage of it,   running on half-fear;   everyone else dead or cutoff from her.     out of the reach from even the great oracle.     apart from dick.     the only person she didn’t want to see.     dick had failed the robins,   turned on them and left them dead— or worse.     but her bats were alive;   cass miles into the ocean (and lucky for the living, she could topple the world given the chance) and steph…   she doesn’t know where steph is but frankly,   that’s good enough.     the blonde has seen enough horror films to survive vampires taking over the world.     because somehow, a day that had begun fighting a giant vampire shark alongside of harley fucking quinn had gotten worse. the vampire king is one of us.     her words still echo inside.     it’s naïve in a way,   to never have suspected him.     she knew the vampire king was standing among them but…   to believe it was dick?     it never crossed her mind.     perhaps it was cruel of her to suspect jason—   maybe even a little stereotypical.     and yet,   he’d been the one who’d gone on the offensive to fight dick—   to protect everyone,   to save cass.     but they’re barely the remains of a team now,   the batgirls scattered to the wind,   jason possibly alive,   and only alfred left.     how long had he been like this?     when they’d hunted down vampires together?     was he one of them then?     how hadn’t she suspected him?     how couldn’t bruce have suspected him?    but no one would have.     who could have even considered dick—   the man who did nothing but try to protect humanity with his whole heart,   who did everything he could to protect his family.     she’d trusted him.     they all had.     and he’d ripped out their hearts—   literally in bruce’s case.

𝚍𝚒𝚌𝚔(𝚑𝚎𝚊𝚍):   𝚑𝚘𝚝 𝚟𝚊𝚖𝚙𝚒𝚛𝚎 𝚜𝚝𝚞𝚏𝚏 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚌𝚑𝚒𝚕𝚕? 𝚍𝚒𝚌𝚔(𝚑𝚎𝚊𝚍):   𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚜𝚙𝚘𝚝 ♡

barbara had expected some form of contact—   it isn’t the greatest shock when dick reaches out to her.     but the message itself?     that was a shock.     it’s…   human.     it’s stupid and silly,   the exact kind of thing that he would text her before all of this.     maybe there’s enough human left in him that he won’t instantly turn on her.     maybe just enough that she can reach out to—   to beg him to come back.     to humanity, to her.     but preparing for the best means preparing for the worst as well and there’s a wooden stake wedged in her bag,   just enough out of her instant grasp that she might fool him into thinking that her goal isn’t murder.     she goes to him anyways,   like a dog called to its master.     she doesn’t reply—   leaves it on read and assumes he knows she’ll turn up.     after everything that had happened,   after the joker—   dick had made sure she could still come up here.     made sure that she could wedge her wheelchair through a secret opening inside the building and traverse hidden corridors to a concealed door.     far less elegant then a grappling hook but she’s more then used to that by now.     accessibility isn’t always pretty.     the wind catches her hair,   exposed to the unpolluted air of gotham.     it’s dark,   the sun bleeding out on the horizon;   just enough for her to make out the outline of his frame but enough to protect him from the light.     she’s here,   in their place of safety—  alight like a forest fire.     her voice catches in the breeze,   fading out as she wheels towards him,       ‘  are you going to instantly try and eat me or can we talk like normal people?  ’

there’s a mock surrender in her hands as she comes to a halt,   jamming on her breaks.     she’s definitely not going to risk accidentally falling off this building—   it’s a long way down.     she almost laughs.     the vision.     what vision, dick?     your own warped insanity?       ‘  you can’t really expect that, can you?   you killed our friends.     you slaughtered your brothers and you just…   expect me to join you?     to understand your warped crusade?     this isn’t right and you know it.     you have too.     you’re hurting people, dick.  ’       she’d had to cut off ollie when he’d tried to fill her in on what had happened.     knowing they were dead was enough—   she didn’t need to hear the gruesome details of what he had done.     even if it’s left her wondering how much of the blood on him belongs to the people she loves. ‘  would you pick them over me?     would you kill me?  ’       her voice has softened, the harsh and cruel edge it had developed now long gone;   haunting the air with her question.     how far will he go?     how much of him is left?     is there even a dick grayson in there or is he just a monster wearing the skin of someone she loves?     will he spill her guts out; rain them down upon the streets they know so well?     can she do it?     how far can she take this?     is her weapon just for show?     to play pretend monster hunter?     how deep does sacrifice run?     will you sacrifice the one for the many?     kill the man you love to save the human race?     are you willing to lose so everyone else can win?       ‘  would you snap my neck?     let me bleed out?     push me off the roof?     would you tell my father?     could you?     or are you so far gone that it wouldn’t even matter?     am i just another distraction on your mission to… what?     becoming fucking twilight?      come back to me,   dick.     we can end this.  ’ not even delphi could help her now.

moments ago,  there wasn’t a doubt in his mind of barbara joining him  &  his cause.    now,  though?    the tides are changing  &  he’s beginning to not like his odds.    his worst fear is coming true:  she  isn’t  on  his  side  as  he  initially  thought.    he believed in babs to understand his cause  &  the position he stood in;  why he was doing what he was doing,  but she doesn’t.    he can see it in her eyes  &  it’s a reality slap to his face.    he murdered tim—  his brain matter still soaking on the bottom of his boots,  pieces of his hair sticking out from the sides.    jason is dead—  that’s what dick’s telling himself,  anyway.    he  knows  what  happened;    he watched him get ripped right out diana’s grip,  a  super  flying away from the scene of the grotesque crime;  it doesn’t mean he accepts that outcome,  though.    damian is on the verge of death;  they’ll make use of him,  though.    at least he has  one  brother  on his team—  it’s  better  than  none.    bruce is dead;  his heart lies on the cement ground of the gotham harbor—  his father’s blood has soaked into the palms of his suit,  the fabric clinging to his skin.    in any other scenario,  he’d be rushing to the closest sink  &  attempting to rid himself of the sins he’s committed—  wash away the blood of his friends,  brothers,  &  father.    but that would be in any other scenario;  this is the present scenario  &  the  only  one  that  matters.

truth be told—  he  feels  like  a  fucking  king.    he’s standing on top of the world,  the earth in the palm of his hand,  gazing down at the lingering population.    he’ll save his people;  the vampires will be able to live in this world  &  take what’s rightfully theirs.    at any given moment,  he can crush it or make it blossom like its never seen before.    they could conquer the world together,  hand-in-hand,  if she allows it.    if she looks past the minuscule vision her eyes hold,  they can do anything they want  &  he knows it.    dick isn’t quite sure of where her loyalty lies anymore,  though.    the voice in the back of his head is telling him  not  to trust her;  he’s starting to remember the words bruce told him in the batcave,  the words he used against him moments prior.    [don’t trust the love you  assume  she has for you.    that’s right,  you assumed she’d side with you,  even in the depths of hell—  she  never  explicitly  told  you.    you’ve assumed.]

for a moment when she’s speaking to him,  dick begins to feel that pang of guilt again  &  his expression changes—  no longer does a smile curve at the edge of his soft features,  but rather a pure look of grief mixed with exhaustion.    the guilt of his actions begins to seep through the collected interior  &  the consequences that await if he  doesn’t  succeed become clearer through the dark haze.    failure isn’t an option but with every breath,  he starts to feel the looming nerves of  what  if!    if there’s one thing dick grayson makes sure of,  it’s that he never fails,  no matter what he’s doing.    today will not be the day for his first failure,  he’ll make sure of that.    so when she questions whether he’d kill her,  he doesn’t hesitate.    ❛  i’d kill you if it meant saving the greater good.  ❜    &  deep down,  there’s a part of him that genuinely means it—  he will kill her  &  he won’t hesitate.    he’ll sink his fucking fangs into bab’s neck if it means his people get to live;  he can live with himself,  he’s sure of it.    [besides,  he has to live with the guilt of killing bruce  &  everyone else anyways—  what’s a  little  more  guilt  added on the silver platter?]

❛  you think this is easy for me,  babs?  i’m mourning—  i thought my brothers  &  i would be able to do something  together  for once in our goddamn lives;  i had hope for that!  but no,  instead,  they believed the bullshit he spewed,  just like  you’re  doing right now!    bruce?    i knew how that would end  &  i did us all a long-term favor.    i want us to be able to end this  together.    i want you on my team;  you’ve always been on my team,  i don’t want that to change.  ❜    it doesn’t have to change—  we  can  still  be  a  team.    we can still be us;  he doesn’t need to speak,  his eyes say it all:  pleading,  visceral  &  raw.

he takes a step forward,  his hands raising in the motion of surrender.    he’s calculating his outcomes as he approaches her—  what are the odds she’ll make a move to kill him?    what are the odds she’ll  allow  him to continue approaching her at all?    dick observes her facial features carefully,  choosing his next words as such.    ❛  you know how this ends...    if  we  can’t  reach  a  compromise.  ❜    he pauses,  a sly smile toying at the edge of his lips—  the vampire lord has returned in all his glory.