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[canidfeline]

I KNOW NOTHING ABOUT LANTERNS

HOW DO I MAKE A LANTERN OC

[canidfeline]

reminder

red lantern was chosen!

[canidfeline]

SYMBOL.

this will read like a mix of a journal entry and my new style, but it's actually heavily inspired by the Batman: Year One monologue!

Age at this point: 17

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Chrysanthemums lay against the first snow-covered grave, a laminated picture of a young boy in baseball gear while in his father's arms against the next.

''Nine years and the wound is still fresh. Like a rageful cancer that's dug itself deep inside and doesn't want out.''

''But this isn't about me. I'm not looking for closure.''

''I still don't feel ready. I have the means. The skill, even the suit. But it feels wrong. I'm wearing my brothers' skin and it's obvious. If I can even call them brothers.''

''What I need is a symbol. Bruce has a bat, but a massive golden R doesn't feel like me. Doesn't feel like I'm instilling fear more than I'm taunting my enemies by looking like a boy scout with knee and elbow pads.''

''If I want my vengeance, if I want justice to be served, I need to look like a creature. A myth.''

Snow crunches beneath his sneakers as he walks from the graveyard towards a car before getting in the driver's seat to drive himself home, although the closer he gets, the more he takes different roads to find the cave. The cave that's became more of a home than the manor above.

''But I'm done being patient. Waiting for a sign. I've been doing that for the past nine years. Since the day all life was sucked out of me. I don't need to be different than Robin. I need to make Robin more like Batman. Or, at least as symbolic.''

''I need Robin to matter more than Thomas. More than James.''

''Of course, Robin is supposed to be the light to Batman's dark, but Bruce has no light inside him that needs rekindling. The same goes for me.''

The car stops above a raised part of the ground before it lowers into the cave. He steps out of the car and walks further into the cave, unzipping his hoodie and pulling it off from his arms as he walks, lights gradually turning on the further he gets inside.

''I need a silhouette. Something to be afraid of in the light of the moon. A shadow that knows of your every sin.''

Snow stuck to his sneakers melts with every moist step towards a desk, drawers of fabric, armour and electronics open before items are picked and laid across the desk. A pair of rubbery contacts lay in the corner, light circuitry hatched in their design. The boy rings a bell on the desk every few hours, an elderly man arrives, few words spoken between them before the man leaves to go fetch whatever materials the boy had asked for.

''I'm smarter than I used to be. Stronger. I'm handier. But I'm emptier. I haven't felt sadness in ten years. The last year with my parents was the last time I felt happy. The only thing I feel consistently now is anger and nothingness.''

''I'm a shell. A vessel for justice to enact itself on anyone it deems sinful. If God is real, he gave me life so he could have a messenger to deliver his justice.''

Small drills spun and other small tools picked and tied the fabric together, hard plastic is fitted to the suit to act as a mask. The plastic was warmed up enough by a blowtorch the boy was holding for him to pull out an elongated nosehole to act as a beak, and obviously for him to breathe with the covered mouth.

''But God isn't real. Because what kind of God would leave orphans to enact his Justice nearly 9 times consecutively?''

''No, the only person I'll listen to willingly is an old man who's been taking care of me the most for the past three years. And the only man in the sky is Batman.''

''I'm but a disciple.''

Black, armoured rubber was outlined with golden paint, the material cut into the shape of a robin mid-flight before it was melded to the armoured fabric beneath it.

''The truth about the mission is that even if I do find the man or woman who killed my parents, I don't know what I'll do to him. I'm told not to kill, and that doing so would make me just like them. But what else would I do? What else would James want?''

''Maybe I'll need to do what Robin would want.''

The boy stood back, inspecting his new suit. A prototype. A good one, but a prototype nonetheless. It's mostly fabric, and the chest is really the only armoured part of it. And the mask looks stiff and uncomfortable. Maybe he should stick to the domino mask for a bit longer.

"I have my symbol. But I still feel wrong. Maybe that's just me, though.''

The earpiece in his ear rang before he tapped on it, answering the call.

''Thomas, there was an accident outside Gotham in a forest. Seems like a meteor, but there was machinery involved, and the temperature readings were sub-zero.'' The deep voice said, his voice somewhat commanding.

''On it.'' The boy said, getting in his new suit but using the domino mask from the old Robin suit.

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i think thomas being edgy is very in character, especially with religion

[canidfeline]

WAYNE.

The boy sat down in the office, leg jerking up and down as the man across him typed on his keyboard.

''Okay, James. Your, hopefully, new foster father should be here soon. I think you'll be surprised, 'cause I definitely was.'' The middle-aged man said, running a hand over his receding hair just before the door to the man's office creaked open. A man dawned in a dark grey suit jacket, a black turtleneck and trousers walking in, a soft smile on his lips as he sat down on the chair next to Thomas.

A smile that seemed ever so slightly forced. To James, at least.

''Mr. Wayne! Thank you for coming.'' The man said, standing up and leaning over his desk to reach out his hand to the other, Bruce reaching his hand over to shake his.

''My pleasure,'' He responded, leaning back in the chair he sat down in, glancing at James next to him, nodding before turning to the other man. His gaze somewhat telling of the fact he already knew of the boy before trying to foster him. ''not to be rude, of course, but do the children not usually sit out during this?''

''Usually? Yeah. But James here's been through the wringer enough times that we don't mind.'' The man answered with a soft nod to James, smiling at the boy. Bruce only nodded in response.

''Mhm,'' James added, quietly. Really only grunting it out to show that he isn't completely absent from the situation.

''Now, medical history to start: James is pretty much clean, health-wise. But, to be fair, he never really went out of any of his foster homes enough to catch anything. And when he did, in fights he'd usually be the one dishing out the blows. Mentally: Slight anxiety, never really shown enough discomfort to warrant medication. Main thing here, is that he's a diagnosed psychopath.'' The man listed, his smile fading and his expression going neutral at the end.

Considering it was the thing that ended his stay at most homes and ended some before they even started, he wasn't too excited to announce it.

''Anything else?'' Is all the dark-haired man said, his elbow resting on the armrest of the chair opposite the desk to hold his head up. His expression still neutral.

If anything, James seems like he'd fit perfectly for a Wayne. Behind-closed-doors Wayne's, at least.

''Oh- uh... no. Like I said, he's pretty clean. Apart from being a psychopath.'' The other man said, the statement getting him a glare from James.

''Alright. Where do I, uh, sign?'' Bruce asks, that soft smile returning to his lips. The words got a slightly confused look from James and a surprised one from the other man.

''Uh, here.'' The man said, taking a form attached to a clipboard on his desk and handing it over to Bruce, whom took it and laid it on his knee, squiggling down his signature before handing it back over. James watched the entire process with that confused look still on his face.

He was happy he was getting adopted, obviously, but Bruce is ignoring a (usually) massive red flag.

''Well, James,'' The man opposite him started. ''you're now a Wayne.'' He said, smiling at the boy, then Bruce as the both of them stood up from their seats, James grabbing his bag to sling a strap over his shoulder before running a hand through his growing dark brown hair, looking up at Bruce as he shook hands with the man. He nodded as a goodbye to the adoption agent before walking out of the office, and eventually, the building before a somewhat elderly man entered James' line of sight, standing on the edge of the sidewalk the building was sat on, holding open a backdoor of the limousine Bruce was presumably brought in, his back leaning forward as he bowed to the boy.

''Master James, I presume?'' He asked, James looking up at Bruce before back to the elderly man, nodding. ''I am Alfred Pennyworth. Your soon-to-be caretaker.''

''Uh... yeah.'' He answered, getting in the limousine from the door the butler had opened, shuffling to the right side in case Bruce had wanted to sit next to him. He slipped his bag off his shoulder and sat it on his lap to rest his arms on as Bruce talked to the butler for a moment before getting in the limousine, sitting next to James as his butler closed the door and got into the driver's seat to drive the two.

''So, James.'' Bruce started, his smile dropping but his demeanour still pleasant.

''We've met before.'' He said. He didn't do this with Tim, or Damian, or Dick. But this boy already has a troubling diagnosis and combine that with his history of anti-social behaviour, the future doesn't seem amazingly bright for him.

Honesty and trust are needed if this is what Bruce truly thinks is best for James.

''The night your parents were murdered. In that alley in Old Gotham-''

''I know.''

Bruce's eyes widened ever-so-slightly before he simply nodded, not saying anything so James could elaborate. He was impressed that James could even remember it if anything.

''You're about 6'2, and with boots on, it'd make sense that you'd be the 6'3 I remember. Your eyes are the same blue. And your voice.'' The boy spoke, his voice and gaze as empty as they were the night they'd first met.

''You didn't look too worried or confused about it when we were in the office.''

''I don't think I can really be either of those things anymore. And, I don't see the point in pointing it out.''

''Okay. Thank you.'' Bruce said, looking down at James as he leaned back against his seat.

''If you want, I'll help you find who killed them. And you could stop it from happening to others. On one condition.''

''...okay.''

''You don't kill them. As much as it hurts, as much as you'll want to. You cannot kill them, because if you do, you're just as bad as them. That's what I've taught myself all these years.''

''I can do that.'' The boy nodded. His life was drastically changing, and he was aware of it. He just couldn't react properly. He's just glad he's being told rather than having something he knows hidden from him,.

And a chance at revenge is what he's been dying for for these past 6 years.

The limousine stopped its motion as it arrived at its destination, Alfred knocked on the right door where James was sitting before opening it. James stepped out, taking in the sight of the enormous manor in front of him, Alfred putting a hand on his shoulder.

''Welcome home, Master James.''

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idk if i'm happy with this, felt rushed due to me getting progressively more sleepy with it, still on the fence with how i did bruce telling james abt everything, but if you like it i'm fine with it.

[canidfeline]

Thomas L. Wayne | Physical Description.

Dark brown, mid-length hair (think Bruce Wayne in The Batman when he goes to the funeral but wavier). Hair is sometimes rough due to inconsistent hygiene. Dark green eyes.

Skinny physique but is muscular, even with his restricted diet. Looks more shredded compared to being healthily built like his father and brothers. Little fat on him.

18 years old, but tries to present himself as older.

Suit: More Batman-inspired than most Robin suits. The body of the suit is largely a dark red, save for a black silhouette of a robin with a golden outline on his chest. The sides/under the arms and armpits are black. The legs continue this pattern, the fronts and backs being dark red with the sides being black. His boots are combat boots and are also black. His cape is more rounded than Batman's, akin to most Robin's, although it's outlined in dark red instead of yellow. The cape is slightly shorter than Batman's to avoid stepping on it and reducing the chance of it getting caught on something. Attached to the cape is a hood, also outlined in dark red. The cape is oversized with a pointed tip, think Assassin's Creed. He has a full face mask that covers his face, it has a hole under the nose so he can breathe and the mouth part is retractable, it fits under his mouth and connects to the rest of the suit, leaving him with a chin-strap. Preferred when dealing with children to not come off as too scary. He has elbow pads and knee pads that are black with grey accents. His near-endless utility belt is black and golden outlined to match the robin on his chest.

Personality: Deathly serious, near emotionless. Control freak to the point he'll have a nervous breakdown if he doesn't have some semblance of control - the reasoning for why he prefers leading the Young Justice team. Has some capacity for humour, although mostly sarcastic, like his adoptive father. Diagnosed psychopath after his parent's deaths. Finds it hard to care for others unless they are very close family or friends. Or obsessions. Is scarily devoted to being Robin, rivalling Bruce's devotion to being Batman, somewhat surpassing it as he even foregoes the public persona part for most of his time as a Wayne, and ignores sleep and eating all to fight crime more. Stoic and brooding. Is very firm in believing people have the possibility to change but most likely won't.

Is UNBELIEVABLY PALE. WHITE AS FUCK. VAMPIRE. EDWARD CULLEN.

He is usually the one left to babysit Damian and is closest to Alfred, again showing similarities to Bruce.

When he is angry, it is explosive and unrestrained.

Walks with his hands behind his back and has a certain admiration for Wonder Woman, leftover feelings from before his parents died as Wonder Woman was a childhood crush.

Is a master of martial arts, some not even from Earth and certain weaponry, mostly blunt and non-lethal types. Despises guns.

Hates celebrating his birthday.

Hates surprises (control thing).

Gives Zac-Zo an allowance of 5 grand a week.

Job for publicity: CFO at Wayne Enterprises as Tim is already CEO.

Unlike Dick as Robin growing up, he doesn't want to be Batman and wants only to be Robin. To make Robin as much of a symbol as the Bat.

Is an amazing liar, manipulator and actor.

Has little hobbies apart from training, stalking Linnet and trying to improve his diet.

Is the main and sometimes only enjoyer of Zac's baking.

Favourite meal is a medium-rare steak with roast potatoes and gravy. Dislikes garnishes as he doesn't see the point of them. Favourite desert is chocolate fudge cake.

[canidfeline]

im making this a tumblr post bc i dont want to have an argument i just want to be heard

if you had as much distaste for someone as i do suzan i would not talk to them let alone play roblox horror games with them

this all feels really hard to say without sounding like a controlling dickhead who's telling you who you can and can't be friends with but it just makes me feel euugh

im not trying to do anything i just want my feelings known

on a more confrontational note, what makes this more hurtful is that we've actually talked about this before when we had that first moment where you said we should have dropped her with sammy so why?

i dont mean to seem controlling or whatever i just want to be heard

i have privated and unprivated this 3 times now ily

[canidfeline]

I AM MAKING A NEW RULE IN THIS HOUSEHOLD

WEEKLY TUMBLR POSTS

[canidfeline]

I love that Arthur is irredeemable, I love that he’s awful but tries to do good, I love that his redemption is for those around him and not necessarily for himself, I love that his “redemption” is just helping others, I love that he knows that even with how he’s changed he still cannot atone for a lifetime of hurt he’s caused, I love how-

[canidfeline]

idk what to title this

facility brutality???

was originally going to write civilzation part 2 (technically 3) but im confused so this will have to do.

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''No, no, no- WAIT, PLEASE!'' The man screamed before a still-hot vibranium blade pierced through his skull, the length of the blade long enough to chip the tile behind him before it retracted back into the knuckles of the boy it was connected to.

The boy huffed for a few seconds before a pained roar escaped him, the metal inside him still burning his flesh from the inside.

-

Inside the Weapon X chamber, The Director grabbed a microphone for the Facility's tannoy. her breaths shaky and panicked before she stopped, holding her breaths to start talking.

''X-107! Calm down. Come back to me, please.'' She breathed out, panic, maybe anger and fear lacing her voice. He couldn't be let loose. A perfect weapon needs a locker to be kept in.

X-107 huffed again, whimpering before whipping his head around to try and find the nearest tannoy speaker. When he spots it, he rushes over to it and deploys his right claw, jumping up and stabbing through its circuitry,

That voice was like nails on a chalkboard. Thinking of it, every sound was. That burning metal charring every one of his bones was changing everything to the point of making every sound painful to listen to.

X then moved into another corridor, bashing the twin doors open. The two guards posted to the cell block turned, aiming their guns at the boy.

The guards spoke, but X couldn't hear from their muffled masks. Everything was too quiet or too loud. Then, they opened fire on the child, the ones shot to his body tearing through his skin, some getting caught in the flesh just to be pushed out. The ones shot to his head merely clanged and bounced off his skull, the metal absorbing the damage.

X-107 roared before charging into one of the guards, the absorbed damage from the bullets releasing from him as he made contact. The guard sent flying off into a wall, his hip and spine breaking from the strength and the impact, a blood-curdling scream escaping him.

Then X turned to the other, jumping onto and grabbing him before sweeping his legs from out under him, the man tumbling down onto the white, bloodstained tile floor.

The guard with the broken back grabbed his radio, probably calling for reinforcements in his last breaths.

But then X-107 got on his knees next to the guard he had felled, deploying and stabbing his right claw through the man's hand and into the floor to pin him down before latching his enlarged canines into the guard's neck.

He doesn't know why he did it. It doesn't make sense, there's more coming and his time is probably running short.

But he wasn't fed before the operation, nor was his brain in the right space.

The guard screamed, squealed and yelped as X's teeth started biting and chewing before X yanked his head back, tearing the flesh out of the man and swallowing. Then he took his claw out of the man's hand, letting him bleed out before walking into the other cell block to tear down the reinforcements the other guard had called.

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then all yap yap part 2 of escape starts happening

might do another today but im really in my batman space rn SO I REALLY WANT TO DO MORE THOMAS BUT I CANT UNLESS YOU WRITE YOUR ZAC AND LINNET BECAUSE ORIGINS

Also I'm recounting Liam being burnt in his room and making it more like an incinerator room (could just say he was out into it in his sleep) and yes it's bc of homelander

[canidfeline]

idk

i really want to do something that shows how brutal the escape was, especially between liam getting out of the weapon x chamber and getting to vincent, but if i do i wanna know if you would prefer it being my clones post for the time or if you would prefer it only being temp filler

ik you'll probably say you dont mind but i also dont either so like

u need to decide

[canidfeline]

LOSS.

(does not count towards clones)

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The boy kept still on his knees, his jeans stained bloody. Unreactive to the voice talking to him as he stared down at the bloodstained asphalt where his mother's half-empty purse lay.

''Kid? Look at me, son.'' The commissioner said, having knelt down to try and get to the boy's level. ''Can you tell me your name, kid?''

The boy took a moment before his eyes slowly looked up to the man. His eyes were swollen and puffy, but with the tears gone, he looked little more than confused. As if he didn't understand what had happened.

''James... my- I'm James Lockheed.''

''Well look at that, we have the same first name.'' The commissioner tried to lighten the mood, although with the boy being knee-deep in his parent's blood, it didn't do much. ''My last name's Gordon.''

The man cleared his throat, leaning his head down a little to try and get the boy to look at him. ''Do you remember who did this to your parents?''

''No.'' Is all the boy could get out, his eyes looking back down to look at his parents' bodies zipped up in body bags.

''Okay...'' The commissioner nodded, clearing his throat again as he looked around for a second before looking back at the boy again. ''How old are you?''

''Eight.''

''Okay. I'll be back in a second, alright?''

''Mhm.''

The commissioner walked over to a coroner on the scene as James looked around before looking up at Gotham's sky before something on a rooftop just above the alley caught his eye.

The Batman.

The Batman dropped down from the roof into the alley, glancing at Thomas before moving away to talk to the commissioner. James was a Batman fan. What kid isn't?

So why doesn't he care? Why does he feel different now?

He glanced back down at his parents' covered corpses. He didn't feel much for them anymore either. He's lost. He feels lost.

He hears boots step over to him before he looks up at the figure looming over him. The Batman, again.

The figure kneels before James, not doing much other than just looking at the boy.

One glance. One little moment of eye contact.

James felt something again. He didn't know how to describe it. Understood, maybe?

''James.'' It spoke, and unlike with Commissioner Gordon, James actually listened instead of being elsewhere.

''Mhm?''

''Do you remember anything about the person that did this?''

James swallowed, the photograph-like memories returning to him, near clear as day. ''Long grey hair, brown eyes, skinny build, too. Average height.'' His speech was cold and robotic, his eyes having left Batman's to stare at the bat on his chest. He felt empty and his speech reflected it.

The Batman blinked. More concerned at how the boy was behaving than surprised.

Because he'd felt the same.

''Okay, thank you.'' He said, standing up and walking back over to Commissioner Gordon to speak.

B: ''Jim. What's going to happen with him?'' He asked, obviously referring to James.

G: ''I dunno... Foster care, probably. This kind of thing always makes me feel horrible, though.''

''Y'know, I had to do this exact same thing a long time ago with Bruce Wayne when his folks were gunned down. Eery how similar it is. The only things missing is that the Lockheeds aren't millionaires and this isn't Crime Alley.''

The Batman just grunted in response, turning to look at the child who was still frozen kneeling in his parents' blood.

He could take him in, like he did Dick, Jason, Tim, Steph, Cassandra, even Damian. But they aren't shining examples of happy childhoods. Gotham's foster care couldn't be that bad.

There could always be a second time, anyway.

B: ''Okay. Contact me if anything happens. Goodnight, Gordon.''

G: ''Alright. I'll take the kid. I'll see you tomorrow night.''

The Batman nodded before grappling away as Commissioner Gordon put his hand on the boy's shoulder, helping him up to his feet and walking him off the scene.

James looked back one more time to look at his parents in their body bags. He still felt nothing. He felt bad, but more just because he knew he wasn't feeling the way he should.

Commissioner Gordon patted the boy's shoulder to get him to follow again, and he did. He'll find a good family, the man hopes, at least.

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IT TOOK ME AGEEEES TO DECIDE HOW I WAS GOING TO WRITE THIS

and personally i think a pre-thomas route was a better way to go, as then we can also do it for linnet and possibly zac-zo

both of whom are in your hands but i am glad to help research kryptonian shit

fun fact did you know that in the original line of comics from the 40s and 50s, robin was what bruce was when he was a detectives sidekick as a kid and thats why dick was?

probably one of the better retcons

[canidfeline]

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ ★ gambit icons

like or reblog if you save.

[canidfeline]

CIVILIZATION

After a few days, or weeks, maybe a month, of playing house in the forest, the group finally got a peek through the soggy, snowy Alberta wilderness and got to see the soggy, snowy Alberta towns.

The others seemed thrilled with the sight, one of them having to make do with an explanation from the girl holding him, but X was... saddened by it.

He enjoyed the wilderness. He was GOOD at surviving. He has skills outside of being a lab rat, and they're locked in between trees and bushes.

But, what has to be done has to be done, he guesses.

How do they act human, though?

CQ opened his mouth, sitting on the snow as the group overlooked Edmonton.

CQ: "We need names."

ST-021 glanced down at the other boy, then at X-107, then back.

ST: "...what's a name?"

CQ: "It's the like... thing people call you. When I got my TV time in the Facility, I saw that those people don't have numbers AND letters. Just letters. They make weird noises with 'em too."

M: "W-when I got TV time, I watched, uh, nature stuff. And there was one on water streams, and it was, like, in this one place called Scandinavia, they call streams Kallen. I want that name."

CQ: "I like Kallen. Fits. I dunno what I want my name to be. There was this TV thing I saw, and it was this, like, English thing. English is the language we speak, and it was, like, teaching it to people that didn't speak it. One of the words they were teaching was 'force', and the other language version was called 'Forta'. Makes sense with my eye things, right? They force, so..."

K: "Forta sounds nice. Kind of."

CQ glanced at M-264- or... Kallen, now with a little bit of annoyance at that, but sighed after. He liked Forta. More than kind of.

ST: "...I dunno any names."

F: "Huh. Well, your letters are ST, so... Steve?"

ST: "Sounds horrible. But I'll take it for now. What about you, X?"

X-107 shrugged. He wonders if his mother would have picked a good name, but he just shakes his head. He doesn't want a name. Not until he finds one he likes.

F: ''...okay. We'll just call you Jack for now, huh?''

X shrugged again, plopping down on the snow and deploying a claw to draw patterns in it.

F: ''We need clothes too. I can't see it but I can definitely smell the blood on our clothes. And I don't think people like that.''

ST: ''And M- or... Kallen, I guess, is uh... grey and looks like nothing. People don't look like that.''

Kallen glanced up over at ST-021, narrowing her eyebrows a little before shrugging. He was probably right.

K: ''Well... I don't know what a lot of girls look like-''

F: ''W- you're a girl? 'Cause you do NOT sound like one. You don't really sound like a guy either.''

Kallen and Forta then stared at each other. Or, well, Kallen stared at Forta and Forta stared at where he thought Kallen was.

K: ''Y-yeah? Mostly, at least.''

F: ''Huh.''

K: ''...anyways, the only girl that I know looks like a girl is the Director and she's an adult and she sucks.''

X stopped his scratching patterns in the snow for a second before continuing at that, sniffing after.

F: ''Do, like, a little bit of her and then mix it with one of us. Look like a girl but look like us too. Like a family.''

Kallen sighed and shrugged before closing her eyes as she tried to remember what the Director's frame and body looked like, the shape moulding onto her like wax, although trying to shrink it to what she thought a teenager 'version' would look like and the height she already has.

Then she looked between the boys around her before looking down at X-107, tapping his head to get him to look up at her. She then mixed and matched some of his features with ones she had thought of for herself. She changed her hair to a more brown colour, her eyes as well.

And her eyebrows were less narrowed and less permanently angry than X's.

X grunted, making a little ''eugh'' sound before going back to looking down to scratch at the snow.

ST: ''That was gross, but you look like a girl now.''

K: ''...yay?''

F: ''Do we go now?''

K: ''Not yet, I have an idea. I think.''

Kallen tilted her head before looking down at her shirt. It felt like it was ready to be changed. To have something done to it. She touched her finger to it and the blood just... vanished. Like her touch was bleach, and then she did the same to Forta and ST-021, although changing the colours of their shirts as well before looking down at X-107.

He has pants and only pants.

K: ''...people are gonna be scared of you either way. Your skin's bloodstained as well, anyways. We'll see if, like, clothes places exist and we'll take some.''

X grunted and nodded. The others just nodded before Kallen took Forta's arm over her shoulder and took a hesitant step out of the forest, swallowing the lump in her throat before continuing the walk to civilization.

They need sanctuary, and they need to find their "parents". But how?

---------------------------------------------------

Idk how to end this and its been rotting in my drafts for nearly a week so I'm shoving it off to you

AND I WAS DEPRESSED AND HAD TO DEAL W SUZAN SO YOU DONT GET TO USE THE "Oh but u took a week!!!!!" EXCUSE

[canidfeline]

i have no idea why the fuck i feel like this but im pretty sure its only when im alone

no friends, no games, no anything. if it leaves me with my own thoughts i am fucked

i also had a knife but i didnt cut myself

i just feel tired and exhausted and it isnt that i want to kill myself its more that i dont want to exist

but like i do also want to kill myself

idk

i havent said it but thank you so fucking much for trying to help

i dont mean to push you away by saying the drinking water thing wasnt what i wanted to hear but like

it isnt exactly going to make me not want to kill myself

but everything else was amazing

i love you kleo. more than i think i do most of the time

you are perfect to me and i appreciate your very existence

-edit after a few hours-

I feel fine now. Idk why I felt like it at all. Last week I was fine but then Saturday, Sunday, Monday and Tuesday happened

Mental

[canidfeline]

I'm slipping to the point that I can't even communicate to you. And when I do, at least vocally, it feels forced on both ends. Everything everyone says to me and what I say to them feels like a lie. I don't want to live anymore.

I'm at my wits end. I'm tired and sad. The only thing I have real energy to do is lie in bed and cry.

I feel sad, and when I'm sad, I'm quick to anger, and when I'm quick to anger, I end up hurting people I love. I want to hurt myself because nothing else seems like a viable aid to how I'm feeling.

[canidfeline]

Nothing I do feels real anymore. It feels like whatever love or anything I receive, I'm undeserving of. Nothing feels real or sincere to me anymore.

The only thing that feels real is anything negative. Self-loathing and loathing others. I feel defined by my hate.

I'm not going to kill myself, but I don't want to live. I don't want to live 50 years, let alone 30. Sleeping, eating, going to a job, eating, coming home, and sleeping again just to do everything again seems so pointless. Life feels meaningless. Everything feels meaningless unless I make an impact on it.

I'm becoming more controlling, more hateful, and more depressed but I do nothing to improve upon myself or my situation. I don't feel human and I don't think I have for a while.

I feel like I can only get people to do things if I shout at them or argue with them, which has actually been proven by my friends. Including you.

I either think I'm above people or below them. I either hate them to the point I'm better or love to the point I can't possibly put myself with them.

I feel like it's going to be sooner rather than later before I lash out at someone. I feel like a ticking time bomb.

In the grand scheme of things, I don't matter. My friends won't matter, the people I hate won't matter and I hate thinking like this. I hate thinking bigger than myself but I always do.

I hate this fucking body. I hate this fucking mind. I hate everything about what I am.

I'm unbearable, and the only thing I feel that ties my friendships together is time.

I have some great friends. I meant what I said the other night. You are near everything to me, but I still feel alone. I feel like I can't break from the persona I've made for myself both online and physically.

I don't know who I am. I feel like a shapeahifter that changes to what people think of me. I hate existing.

[canidfeline]

Being an Arthur Morgan fan means getting annoyed at both the teenage boys overemphasizing Arthur's violence and outdated beliefs to the extend that any human characteristics of him that make him feel real are erased and teenage girls who overemphasize his more vulnerable and emotional side as if he isn't a grown ass man who would put someone in the ground just for looking at him funny.