{ Cont. @dramatisperscnae }

-- Fine? A gash like that wasn't exactly what Ren thought of as "fine" outside of the metaverse. Or even in the metaverse, for that matter. He frowned, kneeling down in front of the masked man in front of him. "You're clearly not alright. Let me help you." He reached for his mask, tapping the point a couple of times as he called the correct persona forward.

"This is going to be a little surprising, but please try to sit still." He took a deep breath before pulling at the mask. He had long since gotten used to the pain that came with calling his personae forth like this. "Parvati...! A little help, please."

In a flurry of blue flame, a woman in gold and pink appeared, floating just behind Ren. She offered a soft smile and a wave of her hand as Dick's flesh began to knit together. Once her work was done, she vanished into those same blue flames and the fire spun, flickering as it returned to Ren's face and became his mask once again.

it’s been a long, long day. being a criminal comes with more paperwork than one might expect. but there’s money to collect, money to pay. even paying people under the table requires a lot of balancing. a day spent in the ‘office’ and a night spent on the streets. and naturally he nearly got the shit kicked out of him by a group of two-face goons that he’d dropped in on trying to set up some heist or another. 

so he’s just gotten out of a far too long shower and plans on curling up on his couch with his cat and tucking into a good book when there’s a pounding on his door. his eyes fall closed and he considers ignoring it and seeing if they go away. but his stupid inclination toward curiosity wins out and he stomps over to the door, throwing it open, ready to chew the person out一

only to be met with a half naked, bloody dick grayson. 

closed starter for @dramatisperscnae

The warehouse reeked of bleach, sweat, and cheap cologne layered over something sour that would never really be washed out. Men laughed too loudly, money changed hands, and someone cried behind a locked door; the sound was cut short almost as quickly as it began.

Every instinct Jason had screamed to tear the place apart brick by brick. Instead, he leaned against a support beam with his arms folded, wearing the scowl they'd come to expect from one of their hired bruisers. Hood stayed low. His voice stayed rough. Eyes stayed sharp.

Weeks of work had gotten him inside. One wrong move would burn everything.

"Fresh shipment's here."

Jason barely looked up at first.

He couldn't afford curiosity.

The side door rolled open, revealing a handful of dazed figures being shoved inside. Some stumbled on unsteady legs. Others had to be dragged. Their wrists were zip-tied, their expressions slack with whatever cocktail these bastards favored.

He counted automatically.

One.

Two.

Three—

His stomach dropped.

No.

It couldn't—

Dick.

Jason's pulse hitched so violently he thought everyone in the room had to hear it. Dick Grayson sagged convincingly between two traffickers, head lolling against one man's shoulder. His pupils were blown just enough to sell the effects of the drugs, his breathing slow and uneven, every inch of him performing helplessness with terrifying precision.

Jason recognized the movements for the performance that it was.

There had been no briefing. No encrypted message. No warning from Bruce. Fucking nothing.

What the hell are they thinking?

One of the traffickers grabbed Dick by the jaw, forcing his face upward.

"Pretty one," the man snorted, turning Dick's head from side to side like he was inspecting livestock. "This one's gonna sell fast."

Jason's fingernails bit into his palms.

Don't move.

Don't react.

Don't.

Another shove sent Dick stumbling onto his knees.

The same man laughed before grabbing a fistful of Dick's hair and hauling him back upright hard enough to wrench his neck, and something cold unfurled beneath Jason's ribs.

Not anger.

Something quieter.

Deadlier.

Something that remembered the rough hands and the complete absence of control. Something that remembered being looked at like an object instead of a person.

One of the buyers wandered closer, circling Dick with open interest. His gaze lingered too long, too hungrily.

Jason hated how quickly jealousy stabbed through his panic. It wasn't rational. It wasn't about trust. It was possessive in the ugliest, most instinctive way, tangled up with fear and memories he had never dared voice to Dick, but he wanted to break every finger that reached toward him.

Instead, he scratched absently at the stubble on his jaw and forced out a humorless chuckle. "Careful," he drawled, pitching his voice into the lazy boredom expected of him. ''The boss said not to damage the merchandise before it's paid for."

The room laughed.

The buyer rolled his eyes but eased his grip.

Barely.

Jason let his gaze slide over Dick for the briefest fraction of a second.

It was the only acknowledgment he could risk.

Not enough for anyone else to notice.

Just enough that, if Dick were as aware as Jason knew he was, he'd recognize the warning buried beneath Jason's carefully blank expression.

I'm here.

Don't look at me.

Jason pushed himself off the beam when another thug jerked his chin toward him.

"You."

A ring of keys was tossed into his hand. "Take this one downstairs."

Jason attended that charity masquerade gala with Dick mostly as a back-up, and maybe that was a mistake, because he got a bit of a case of jealousy when every other single dame in the room kind of made a move on the other man the same way they did with Bruce, and Jason was sort of a pest when he was younger, but there was no cuteness factor to protect him anymore, so he had to keep a safe distance and watch it all unfold while being aware of his lover's body language and fake smiles that served only for pleasantry.

So, it was no surprise once that was over, he found a way to get to his lover, cornering him at the parking lot by his car. "You look good." A short announce of his presence to avoid having the trademarked bat-reaction to being cornered, and Jason stepped out of the shadows and got closer so he could rest both hands on the sides of Dick's hips while leaning in for a passionate kiss.

@dramatisperscnae for Bucky >w>

She hates this. Max hates this. She wants to go home. Hell, she’d even take going back to California. Back to her parents and her brothers, to the shrinks and the psych facilities. Any of that misery would be better than this. Better than being stuck in this fucking room, mostly healed from the injuries she’d received as a punishment for not seeing the Avengers’ victory, the SHIELD is Hydra news getting leaked all over the internet for the whole world to see, and, most importantly, the loss of the Winter Soldier.

Currently, she’s supposed to be finding him for Hydra; failure is not an option. There’s been talk, threats of cutting that pretty little head of hers open to see how she ticks. Maybe they think that will give them the answers they want and actually show them how her visions work. Maybe they think it will allow them to control her visions.

Maybe they’re right, and isn’t that a terrifying thought?

Max isn’t sure if it’s more or less terrifying than where she is now—locked up in what she’s 99% sure is some kind of torture chamber. She feels like she’s going to puke, is huddled on the floor in as tight a ball as she can manage, her arms curled protectively over her head, having moved as far away from every object in the room as she can get. It’s all fear and pain and misery and despair. The scent of blood and death feel like they’re suffocating her. Her stomach churns with every breath and the threat of vomiting is very real.

@dramatisperscnae sent:

"You're okay, just breathe for me." [from Arthur]

prompt

🦇—-;; It's an effort to hear Arthur's voice over the blood rushing in his ears, but he does hear him. Bruce had tried to keep it under wraps, at least until he was somewhere a little safer for himself, and trying to go over the reasons why it was happening at all didn't exactly help. Whatever the reasons, it's something Bruce knew he'd have to work out later, right now he's struggling and part of him is relieved that Arthur noticed, because Bruce is trying to hide it, but he guesses the shaking in his hands and the shaky, uneven breathing gave it away.

"I..." He tries to speak, though all he manages was a couple stuttered sylables. So instead, he falls quiet, leaning against Arthur to try and keep himself from collapsing. He needed to breathe, he knew it'd help, but recalling any of his training on breathing exercises seemed impossible right then, a clawed hand sinking into the armour on his chest, his other hand holding onto the other man, and he gasps a little, trying to make it clear he's trying to do as Arthur said.

@dramatisperscnae

"Say what, that it's useless?" Robert grumbled as he leaned over to grab an unattended stanley water container whatever and hurled it across the room with as much force as his weakened, wasted state could muster. It didn't go far, but it did ring resoundingly across the room. Enough that it aroused the interest of a nurse who ran to fetch the object, demanding who had done it.

ofc <3

Child of Hades HCs

[GN!reader & Nico Di Angelo]

You were a new camper when you got claimed by Hades. Really, the clear pity on the other demigods' faces as they faced your apparent older brother, Nico, made anxiety course through your veins.'

People told you he was cold and harsh but he was nice to you. A bit of indifference came your way, but after a month where you didn't bother him is when he decided to invite you over for dinner with your father.

To be frank, it was scary sure. Hades didn't look like he was a very loving father. But compared to his brothers, Gods, he was a good one. He cared about his kids, and you were thankful for that.

Actually, the only thing you hadn't brought up to Nico was his ex-crush on Percy. He got mad when someone told you about it, and if you wanna be a good younger sibling, you got to make sure that he won't get angry about it near his very kind boyfriend, Will.

"yeah i had a crush on Percy back then, but i was young and impressionable, i already got over it"

" Neeks, you're like 13, he ain't your ex-husband that cheated on you, killed your cat, and made you vow to never love again!"

"What's your point?"

A dramatic older brother is the best kind of brother ❤️

For the bolded convo I got inspo from @tangerine-brooks