Ash_Be_Trash



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  1. Public Bookmark 26

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    As the social season approaches, Damian is determined to represent his family well. Too embarrassed to come to his father or Pennyworth for help, he turns to the one sibling he knows has all the ins and outs of Gotham galas down pat. He demands that Drake tutor him in the elusive ways of the elite.

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    03 Jun 2026

  2. Public Bookmark *

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    Bruce was frowning, and Tim fought the urge to apologize more. “You know you don’t have to look at me when we’re speaking, right?”

    Blinking, Tim gaped at Bruce for a moment. “Uh…”

    “I’ve noticed you tend to… time it.” Bruce continued, as if he wasn’t currently destroying most of what Tim knew about keeping a conversation. “I’d rather you put your full attention towards the matter at hand rather than split your focus managing eye-contact.”

    “I- Okay.” He said. Bruce was usually good with not lying to Tim, but he’d need to test that before fully implementing it. No better time than the present, right? He shifted to look at his sleeves. “I don’t think they’re related. The tires aren’t really compatible with any of the car models Sionis prefers.”

    Tim braced himself for the potential rebuke, but it didn’t come.

    “They could have paid a contractor…” Bruce pointed out instead.

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    03 Jun 2026

  3. Rec *

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    “A dress for your dear Aranea,” the man says. “One year from today, woven from old barbed wire, without speaking. Throw it over her on the last day.”

    “And she'll be human again,” N H-01987 0006-0204 says.

    The man smiles.

    ---

    A six swans AU, sort of.

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    01 Jun 2026

  4. Public Bookmark *

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    Teenage rebellion - A necessary rite of passage all boys must undergo before discovering the proper path to becoming a man.

    Collateral damage - Noct's friends.

    Excerpt:
    "Prompto!" Noct was just straight-up mad now.

    He warped once more and lunged at the retreating blond, knocking him off his feet. They skidded in a heap across the rocky terrain and Noctis was on top of him before Prompto even had a chance to roll over. An intense scuffle ensued, as Prompto frantically struggled to get back to his feet, and Noctis refused to let him do so.

    It was less than a minute before Noctis found himself perched triumphantly atop the blond, his torso heavily straddled, wrists pinned firmly overhead.

    "Ow—gah—get off," Prompto said, struggling desperately beneath him.

    Noctis looked him full in the face. "The hell's wrong with you?!" he demanded.

    Prompto continued struggling, and Noct tightened his hold on him. He closed his eyes, gasping to catch his breath, as he realized he was only wasting his energy.

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    01 Jun 2026

  5. Public Bookmark *

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    “You know,” Olruggio says, roughly. He doesn’t move to take Qifrey’s hand again. “You know. You can’t not know, Qifrey.”

    Qifrey just looks at him. “I do.”

    The rain continues falling.

    (And so Olruggio forgets. And he inevitably figures it out again, because of course he does; and he inevitably chooses to forget again, and again, and again, because his heart is always the same. The story is always the same. Like a tale from under a silverwood tree, like a myth from the days of old, not so much tied by the constraints of the narrative so much as being narrative itself. Antigone must bury her brother. Iphigenia must be put to death. At a thousand turns, in a thousand ways, Orpheus must turn, and he must look, again, and again.

    And Olruggio forgets.)

    There is an old story about a witch and a silverwood tree.

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    01 Jun 2026