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[quartztwst]

(No Yan Sim AU) Questions for OCs! + Quartz and other characters' lore

You don't have to do these if you don't want to! You can write and answer how ever you want (3rd person or as the OC)

These answers are just examples and they also give lore to other TWST characters in the AU

1. Does your OC have parents or family in the AU? If not, what is their current living situation?

Riddle currently lives with his mother. Because of her influence, he is the strictest in the student council (which consists of the dormleaders.)

2. What are their thoughts on Quartz?

[You can yap about it here since I already used Quartz as an example in the fourth question]

3. What is their thoughts and relationship with Azul? How did they meet Azul?

Jade is Azul's right hand man. He assists Azul with a lot of student council work and is mostly by his side with Floyd. They are friends from their middle school days and up to their highschool days (although the three of them won't admit it).

Jade found Azul's hardwork and scheming nature very exciting so he and his brother always stayed by Azul's side to see what fun events would happen.

4. What are their relationships with other characters/OCs?

[They are speaking about Quartz as example]

Floyd: "Who again?"

Floyd doesn't really acknowledge Quartz since she's so quick out of his sights. Genuinely believes there isn't a person named that but is suspicious.

Jade: "Oh, that shy girl? She's a little funny."

Definitely suspicious of Quartz but they don't interact much so he has no other information about her. He probably needs to be more skillful when studying her.

Riddle: "Quartz?.. Uh.. I-I don't recall who that is."

Quartz rarely interacts with Riddle.

Ace: "Ah? You mean that girl who's always so weird? I've seen her watch Azul. Pffftt! Do you think she likes him?"

He notices her sometimes because he thinks her appearance is a little flashy.

Idia: "I-Isn't she one of Azul's admirers?... She's the shy type right? She's a little strange though.. Sometimes she takes photos of me! W-Wait.. Maybe she's into me instead?! EEEKK!! H-HOW SCARY!!"

Completely misunderstands Quartz's actions but he's quick to know how weird her actions are. He stays away from her if Azul isn't present.

5. What grade/year is your OC?

Azul, Jade, and Floyd are all 2nd years (17).

Leona has been held back so he is still 20.

6. What is your OCs goal for the school year or in life?

Quartz wishes to kill Azul 🙏

7. Your OC is being framed for murder of another student by Quartz, how does your OC react to that? Does your OC know it's Quartz?

Floyd is jumping her.

8. Your OC notices Quartz carrying a weapon in her skirt pocket. That's strange since the female school uniforms don't have skirt pockets. Does your OC report this?

Riddle is absolutely reporting that! He's calling the cops and everything 🫡🫡🫡

9. Where is your OC usually with or at during school? Classes? With Azul? Skipping class? Where do they eat lunch?

Quartz is always in class but she'll come right before the bell rings since she was.. busy. She doesn't have a particular place she goes to all the time. She's never in one spot.

Quartz's lunch spot varies because she's always spying but her usual spot is in the courtyard.

Riddle is assigned being a hall monitor so he usually watches the halls when he is able to. He usually eats lunch with Trey and Cater.

Leona is always found napping under trees and skipping his classes. Ruggie manages to find him and give him his lunch from the cafeteria.

Rook is watching you.

10. How are your OC's grades?

Deuce tries, ok. (Awful)

[fandoms--fluff]

Hiii I hope you’re well. I love love LOVE your stories and was wondering if you could do one of Elijah mikaelson? In this context the reader is a werewolf and was his wife since the 1800s but has been on the run from him for ages (for any reason I’ll leave that up to u) Elijah finally hunts her down in mystic falls taking her back to their mansion. You can do whatever you like with this suggestion really. Also no smut but maybe lots of tension? Like pinning her against the wall during an argument or smth.

His

Immortal female werewolf reader x Elijah Mikaelson

Warnings: Swearing, fighting, mentions of death?

A/n: I had fun writing this <3

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I knew it was too good to be true, you think to yourself as you quickly pack a duffle bag of clothing, money, and other essentials around your apartment. Which happens to be located right in the middle of 'downtown' Mystic Falls.

You rush around the space that has brought you comfort over the past couple years. But of course everything has to end, the friendships you made here, the comfort, and having a life. Now you have to start all over again. Hopefully this time where he can't find you.

You've heard whispers about the originals and Klaus around the small town, mostly within the group of the Salvatore brothers and the others. You have made acquaintance with them after the killings started happening around a year after you had moved here. It was okay, for now, you thought, Klaus hasn't actually shown his face yet.

Until Elijah kidnapped Elena, and gave her a less than friendly warning, not to mess with the wrong people. No one knows what that means, and you're glad they haven't traced it back to you. They don't know your history beside being an immortal werewolf and basics like that. And you plan to keep it that way.

Which is why you need to leave. Now. Before he gets to you.

And that 'he', is no other than Elijah Mikaelson. The husband you once loved and have been running from for the past two centuries.

You both had once loved each other very dearly. Until it came to the night that ruined everything and made you go on the run, not standing to be near him. And you've been running ever since. You're quite surprised you've made it this long without being caught by him. Or even one of his siblings, Klaus especially.

Your thoughts are all jumbling together as you rush around your apartment. A place that brought you security and comfort, now being torn away from your grasp. Because if you stayed, then you can't even think about the pain it would leave you in by taking that action. As you try to leave as fast as you can, you can't help but think about the past. The reason why you're so frantic and have the urgency to get out of the small town in Virginia.

It had all began when you were younger, still innocent, enough that is, to the cruel dark side of the world. Of course, you already knew about your werewolf side and it had been activated when you were very young on your seventh birthday. You could never figure out why you hadn't needed to kill anyone to activate it. But it was clear you were special from a young age.

You were eighteen, mastered full control of the wolf inside you and hadn't brought pain to any one beside a few woodland creatures. You tried your best in the world, keeping your secret while also keeping up with societies rules as a young woman, as the people of your village would murmur around about you. About how you had not found yourself a suitor. A husband. But how could you? with a secret like yours? So, you kept to yourself.

That was until a new family arrived in your village. A very wealthy and mysterious family of apparent four siblings. Word spread around the small village of their names, Klaus, Rebekah, Kol, and finally, Elijah Mikaelson. Though no one knew where they came from or why they had came to this specific place. Except it was clear they had major influence.

You didn't trust them, it felt weird how they just appeared out of no where over night, something seemed off about them. You stayed clear from the new residents of the village, minding to the apothecary shop your parents owned in the corner of town.

It didn't last long though until one of the Mikaelson's came into the shop. At first you hadn't acknowledged them, hoping they would pick something up, buy it, and leave. Or just leave entirely, not even wanting them to buy anything. But luck wasn't on your side.

The strange man comes up to the counter where you're standing. "I don't believe we've met, I'm Elijah" The man, Elijah, says to you. Smiling weakly at him, just wanting him to leave, you have a bad feeling, "I'm Y/n."

He continued the conversation and left after a while. And you we're surprised to have a wish of hope that he would've stayed longer. Maybe you we're wrong about the new family. You hadn't known what you'd just gotten yourself into for the next centuries.

And so, the handsome man has come to the shop everyday since and you couldn't be anymore exhilarated. It's been so long since you've felt happiness like this.

It had been good, or so you thought. The relationship you guys had was romantic and lovely, and anything you could ever wish for. It soon turned to marriage, and you loved him and he loved you. That was until the night everything went wrong. The night you ran and have been ever since. From your one true love.

You didn't mean to eavesdrop, really. But you had been on the way to the kitchen to grab a glass of water when you heard voices in your husband's study. It was him and Klaus, talking of the plan going just right with the werewolf.

Elijah had 'discovered' you were a werewolf about the same time you suspected of him being non human as well. Just you weren't expecting him to be a vampire. And it was quite strange how he wasn't surprised of you being a wolf. Which should have been your first clue. But you overlooked it, filled with love for the man. Which was a painstaking mistake. Especially when discovered after many tests that you were no longer aging after your twentieth birthday.

Your eyes widen as they mention a werewolf. Are they talking about me? You wonder, as you continue listening.

"Y/n suspects nothing of it, right?" Klaus asks his brother. "Nothing, I love her, but she can't know what we have planned, not yet" Elijah answers him from across the room.

Tears well up in your eyes as they continue talking. "There's a chance my curse will be broken by using her?" Klaus asks. "Yes, by the next full moon in two days, there is a best chance with her willing or unwillingness of the ritual, that it will be undone. You will be a full hybrid, Niklaus" Elijah grins to his younger brother, taking a sip of his drink.

You quickly cover your mouth and walk away as quickly but quietly as you can while tears run down your face. You thought Elijah loved you, just as you do him. But of course it's not. He just pretended to get close to me, you think as you get to your guys' room. You grab your cloak and nothing else before sneaking out of the massive house.

There's no point confronting your husband, it was clear there was no love to be shared between the two of you. Instead, a need to get far away from here as you can before you get caught. You should have never fallen for the original, should have never spoken to him like your gut told you to.

You stealthily make your way to the stables. No one has caught you yet, making it easy to get on the horse and start the galloping travel through the woods.

It's not until you're deep into the forest when you hear voices and men shouting. When you hear Elijah shouting for you, anger enriched in his voice. But you never look back, only making the horse go faster until you're so far that they can't keep track of you.

Until now. Elijah is here, or at least close to here. You know Elena had met with him, unwillingly. And you can't risk anything else.

You finish zipping up the bag and leave the apartment behind, going outside where your car awaits. Unlocking it, you throw the duffle in the trunk before speeding into the driver's seat.

Driving above all speed limits, you get to the border of the town before a man, a man that you could recognize anywhere appears in the middle of the road.

Fear sparks in your eyes, and instead of stopping like any sane person would do, you swerve the car and press on the gas, passing him.

It doesn't turn out so well, when you hear a thunk on the top of your car and then the man crashing his fist through the windshield, making you slam on the breaks. The breaks emit a loud and jarring squeaking sound as your breathing picks up at the sight of your husband.

Before you know it, you're manhandled out of the car and whisked away to a mansion. You fight your way out of his grip, "Let me go!" You exclaim.

He lets you out of his hold, raising his arms up. "It's been a while, my Y/n" He says, and you swear you could hear a smidge of longing in his voice. "What? Since you used me and pretending to live me just to break your brother's curse?!" Your voice booms with emotion.

After everything, a small part of you still loves the vampire in front of you. A part before you found out his plans, when he was still mysterious to you. But you can't let that cloud your vision, speech and thoughts right now.

"It wasn't like that" Elijah takes a step forward, making you take a step back, not wanting to be close to him. You scoff, "I'm not so naive now, Elijah. Of course it was like that. You knew I was a werewolf before you pretended to find out and tell me you were a vampire, a god damn a original at that" You lash out, anger and resentment coming out.

"Just hear me out my darling-" You interrupt him, "No, you can't just hunt me down for 200 years and then once finally catching me, make me listen to your lies and justification. You we're going to what? kill me? Why not just do it instead of pretending to love me and then fucking marry me."

Elijah's face falters before grabbing your arm again. He slams you up against the wall, pinning you against it. His grip on you is hard and painful.

Your eyes flash into the amber colour out of anger. You try to struggle out of his grasp, but have no luck.

"No need for those eyes, darling. For your knowledge, I did love you and marry you because of that love. To this day I still love you. Even after the running away stunt you pulled." Elijah explains to you with a hard voice.

"Good for you, but I promise you, those feelings are definitely not reciprocated" You ground out, still struggling against his hold. Elijah just leans in closer to you, you can feel his breath on your skin. "I could never love someone like you after what you planned for me" you spit in his face.

Elijah falters for a moment, giving you just enough time to switch it around and have him pinned against the wall in his place. You use your werewolf strength to hold him down. "Now, I think it's best for both of us to just move on with our lives. I mean it" You say in a loud and clear voice, no pain whatsoever leaking out. All you want to do is leave and never see this man who has caused you so much pain.

"You don't mean that" Elijah's mouth twitches up into a loose grin. "I assure you, I do" You claw your nails into his skin, making his gasp out.

With an ounce of strength, Elijah gets free from your hold and wraps his hands around your neck. They're not tight enough to block your air supply, just to get you to not move.

"We both know your feelings aren't gone for me. You love me. You just can't admit it. I have been after you for so long, you're my wife whom I love."

You scoff, "A wife who you still want to do the ritual. let me think about it" you pause to 'think'. "NO!" You exclaim in his face. Elijah's vampire face comes on display for a moment before he calms himself. "You don't need to be in the ritual. there's another way now. A new one, my darling. We can finally be together. No more running or hiding, or secrets. I give you my word" He come's closer to you again.

You pause, not knowing what his plan is. There's no way he really means those things. His 'word' may have worked two centuries ago on you, but not now. "And how am I supposed to take you seriously? Or believe a single word you just said? Just because I'm technically your wife still, doesn't mean I have to act like it." You finally tell him.

"Then I truly am sorry, darling" Elijah takes another step closer, you being a couple inches apart now. "For what?-" You get cut off.

Elijah grabs hold of you and twists you around. He quickly wraps his arms around your neck, placing a hand on your jaw and twists your neck. Breaking it.

He's lost you for this long, he's not going to take any more chances. He'll make you remember your feelings for him, whatever it takes, You're his. Even if it means keeping you as a prisoner.

[riality-check]

hi, love your viktor fic! since you say you find him easy to write and you feel like you've really got his speech down, could you give some advice on how to write his dialogue/these unique dialogue things you say you've noticed? I've watched the show 3 times but still find him so hard to write!

Anon, you have no idea the yapping you've unleashed. I love discussing the intricacies of speech, and I love discussing Viktor, so strap in and prepare for quite the long post.

Don't feel bad about not getting his voice down! Character voice is difficult, and it's even more difficult to maintain consistently. I have it a bit easier; I have a knack for memorizing speech patterns very well. So, once I metaphorically store the file in my brain, it's pretty easy to test all my writing for the "he would not fucking say that" phenomenon.

In my opinion, Viktor's speech can be summarized - though this is quite the reductionist summary - as having a lot of the same quirks as that of those who learn English in a schoolroom setting. He speaks very "standard" (in quotes because I don't feel like getting into the linguistic debate over that categorization right now) English. This entails a lot of things; for Viktor, this manifests as speaking in a register that is slightly more formal than many other characters in the show.

(Of course, these phenomena transcend learning English specifically. I actually run into them frequently when I speak Italian. But because the show is in English, I'm taking English as Viktor's assumed second language and will be using that reference throughout this post.)

Specific ways that manifests in my writing for him are outlined below. There are a lot, but I've listed my top three for brevity's sake.

No contractions

This one is difficult for me! I naturally write how I speak, which means I frequently clip my words. Plus, most of the characters' whose POVs I write from have very casual speech. Viktor is the exception. Changing your "can't"s to "cannot"s, your "didn't"s to "did not"s, etc. will help you achieve that slightly more formal register that Viktor tends to speak in. It's a bit of a pain, and it feels strange at first, but to me, it's one of the simplest ways to get your writing on the way to sounding more like Viktor.

Minimize your slang (and swearing)

I'm mostly taking this one from the "crank it" scene. A lot of second language learners aren't specifically taught slang in their target language; they have to learn it as they go. In that scene, Viktor encounters a phrase that is new to him, hesitates, understands, and then adopts it. Slang, for Viktor, is acquired. Demonstrating that in your fic rather than having him use it completely organically like a native English speaker would is another way to get your dialogue more in character for him.

Additionally, to my knowledge, Viktor doesn't swear in the show. I do have him swear in my fic, but extremely sparingly and only in cases of extreme emotion. Second language speakers (in my personal experience) are rarely taught profanity on purpose, and it often takes a while to use it fluently in their target language. So if you're having Viktor swear, do it sparingly, or write it out in whatever real world analog you think his native language is for some fun flavor!

Use specific verbs

There's a writing post I saw a while ago but cannot locate that describes this better than I could. The gist of this is to eliminate verbs such as "is," "has," "seems," etc. in favor of more specific verbs. This is less of an "English as a second language" quirk and more of a "Viktor is intelligent and Academy-educated" quirk. Viktor is precise and specific with his words whenever he speaks. Some examples of this that I've used have been "permits" instead of "lets," "inquires" instead of "asks," "fabricate" instead of "make." This also extends to nouns; "quandary" instead of "problem" is taken straight from the show. Using some of those higher-register words is very reminiscent of Viktor.

I hope this helped, anon!! This was super fun for me to make, and if anyone else has any additions, pls add on to this post!!

[musicfeedsmysoul12]

ok i'm placing this in an au you don't write for anymore so if you're not comfortable writing that's understandable but i figured since it's just a setting and not the actual characters and you wouldn't have to deal with the fans i'd still try to ask

but anyways Brain Dead Ship in Miraculous Ladybug AU

I like the setting. It’s fun, it’s just the fandom was toxic for me. But anyway…

1. Danny gets the Black Cat by accident and now he has a god eating all his cheese! Luckily Plagg is a nice guy who is to bad. (And if Plagg is more a father than his own, Danny doesn’t bring it up. Nor does the tiny God.) Tim however opens a box his parents had and hey, flying bug! Now though Tim realizes he can be a hero! This is like before either become heroes.

2. Danny still goes into the portal despite Plagg hissing not to fucking do it. He still becomes Phantom and all, having Plagg to keeps his identity even more hidden. The powers of the Black Cat help him a lot. Meanwhile Tim is running around Gotham as a magical super hero while jumping Bruce who is deep in mourning to knock the guy out to drag him to safety. Diana coming just has her praising the new Ladybug holder.

3. Fast forward. Danny is in college and moves to Gotham. A reveal went down and it went… well it went. His parents are in shock over what happened. They aren’t… doing well. No harm is done but it’s not good. Meanwhile Tim is part of the Batfam as the feral son who routinely jumps them to drag them to bed or the such if they need it.

4. Tikki and Plagg recognize each other and drag their holders together. It’s crush at first sight and the two begin dating. It’s just pure adorableness.

5. The rest of the Miraculous are scattered and now the two have to team up so they can find them all instead of leaving the world to destruction as anyone can find them!

[mueritos]

some autism thoughts!

so im feeling more and more comfortable with naming I'm autistic, both in public and online, and being open has come with some nice benefits. People who I felt strangely connected to during my program have re-entered my life (mostly cuz we have an overlapping schedule at some point during the week) and have told me about their journeys into getting assessed. A woman in my program who gave me a tangle fidget toy like 2 weeks into knowing me is thanking me for being so nonchalant about my autism. and i thanked her because she had with no hesitation given me that tangle when she noticed me picking at my skin, and now we are chatting about her writing down her symptoms and connecting on that.

similarly, being open about myself has allowed neurodivergent people around me to not fear being curious. they ask me questions, and I get the chance to ask questions back. a colleague of mine has a psychotic disorder that he's lived with his whole life, and I get to learn about his lived experience and what he's gone through because of sanism, and he gets to learn about my lived experience and how I struggle with social and sensory stuff. Similarly, I get to talk to my supervisor about his adhd, and he can make jokes about not needing a DSM-5 to diagnose me because he has worked extensively with autistic clients and knows that the diagnostic criteria does not speak at all to the lived experience of many autistics. It feels very validating to be seen by others and not be challenged on this part of me that feels very vulnerable, especially considering I'm still figuring it out and growing into it. And, at the same time, it feels so affirming to be able to work with autistic clients and be able to stim in session, allow them to take their time to speak, and approach them nonjudgementally. Some of my favorite sessions have been with people who can take up to 2-3 minutes of silence before responding to my questions! I just feel myself vibrate with excitement at the chance to let someone live their authentic self. I'll sit in as much silence needed if it means someone can have the time to process their thoughts.

at the same time, I carry a lot of anger. Anger that I can never go back to the way I lived just a few years ago. I spent over a year being severely to passively suicidal, barely holding onto life and the very foundation of my relationships to others, and I've come out an entirely new person. No longer do I feel the need to carry the burden of communication--I can only account for what I say and do. No longer do I feel the need to force myself out of the house when I don't want to, or to stay out later than wanted, or to pressure myself to say yes to other's because I should be doing things that other people my age are doing. I find so much joy and pleasure in sitting at home, in my pjs, watching video essays about Sonic the Hedgehog, or dinosaurs, or some youtuber drama. I am so so focused on making sure I never have to feel the way I did again, that I just cannot live the way I used to ever again.

i dunno! autism is weird and hard and fun and also a neutral thing about me. everyday I learn something new and try to strive for new coping techniques and joy :)

[hearts4johnwick]

SUMMARY. 𝜗𝜚 your husband has been missing for almost two months now, yearning for him is making you relive some of your best memories.

CW. 𝜗𝜚 mentions of od’ing, fluff & angst (whose page are you in??? ofc it’s angst 👅) bold = flashbacks

A/N. 𝜗𝜚 umm i know absolutely nothing!!!about south korea or their schools, so this is purely based off of american schools bc my latina ass is not cultured on this, if yall wanna correct me or help me in some stuff, pls do! just know i’m writing this for fun tho <3

the voice of your teacher announcing a new student catches your attention, a boy with slightly longer hair stands beside her, holding onto his backpack. “this is kang dae-ho, he is transferring from seoul, and as your new classmate, you shall treat him with respect.” your eyes analyze dae-ho, he’s cute, you think. you glance over to your friend and she raises her eyebrow in a flirty manner, you smile.

“find a seat, dear.” there were plenty of seats available, but the seat beside you was the one he was eyeing the most, and you did not mind at all if he sat next to you.

the two of you make eye contact and you watch his eyebrows raise slightly, he quickly makes his way to the seat beside you. you give him a soft smile and he returns it, a soft hint of redness grows on his face.

“of course.” your friend playfully rolls her eyes and you chuckle before the teacher begins the class.

once the class finished, you head to your lockers to put away your books, in the distance you see dae-ho and your friend speaks. “you should go and talk to him, maybe we can go to the bakery after school.” you look at her and nod.

“that’s a good idea.” you walk away from your locker, your hand holding your other over your legs as you make your way toward him. dae-ho turns and his heart begins to race as if your beauty leaves him speechless, or you coming up to him caught him off guard. “dae-ho, was it?” he nods. “nice to meet you, I’m y/n.”

he smiles widely. “cute name for a cute girl.” you smile, his confidence taking you aback for a slight moment.

“thank you.” you feel your face heat up, but you brush it off. “my friend and i were wondering if you’d like to join us at the bakery right across the street after school? we usually go there for some lunch, since the lunch here is not too good.” you make a disgusted noise and scrunch your nose, he laughs and you smile.

“I’d like that,” he says and you smile.

“great. see you there. what’s your next class?” you ask him, and he tells you that it’s math, you exclaim when you look at his schedule and realize you have every single class together.

after classes finish, the three of you do as you agreed and head to the bakery. you get to know a lot about dae-ho, and you find out you have much more in common than you ever thought. he’s energetic and kind, and you admire that.

“so, do you have any plans after graduation?” you ask him, breaking the silence your friend left you both in after her mother came to pick her up.

he hums, taking his time thinking what to say. “joining the marines is a good idea.” you raise an eyebrow. “but, apart from that—i’d love to marry a pretty girl, maybe start a family with her, maybe move back to the city, or move to costa rica, i’ve seen pictures and i think it’s the most beautiful place i’ve ever seen.” you can’t help but smile at his plans, they’re quite nice. “and you?” he asks you your question.

“i want to become a veterinarian. i love animals so much, i’ve rescued some! dogs and cats!”

“what do you do after? do you keep them?” he questions.

“oh no no! i’m allergic to cats, i just send them to a shelter or put them up for adoption. when animals stay in shelters too long they sometimes kill them, and i hate that. i wish i could keep every animal i rescue, but ive only kept two dogs, two german shepherds.”

dae-ho laughs. “remind me not to mess with you, then.” you laugh at his joke.

“yeah, don’t.” you suck on your bottom lip and look at him. “but, apart from becoming a veterinarian, I’d also like to marry a handsome guy, and maybe start a family, although, I’m alright with dogs—how many kids do you want?”

“i want 4.” your breath hitches, and you grimace, you’re acting as if you’re gonna be the mother, but, you couldn’t help it.

“your poor wife.” you place your lips into a thin line. you two share a short laugh and continue to get to know each other.

you and dae-ho grew fond of each other in only 3 months, he was even walking you to your house, no matter the fact that his house was nearly 20 minutes from yours.

one night, you and dae-ho stand in your front steps, before you say goodbye, he grabs your hand and caresses it softly. “y/n.” he begins, he has all of your attention. “why don’t we… take a break from the bakery and go to an actual restaurant…maybe tomorrow?” he pauses between his words, thinking thoroughly about what he’s saying. when he sees your expression soften, he knows it’s going great.

“i’d love to.” you smile widely and place a hand on his cheek gently. the two of you share a sweet moment, he said he’ll text you the details, and you dismiss him with a kiss on the cheek and the blood rushing to his cheek makes your heart flutter.

one date led to another, and then another, after that, another one, until it became a weekly thing. when the two of you graduated, he quickly went off to the marines, and you were proud of him for that, he could do what he wished for, but you were terrified at the same time, terrified that one day he might not come home, and the thought of that destroyed you.

him coming back home permanently meant everything to you, you thought that maybe you could start a family now, you were at a fine age, you were married and financially stable, your job was paying you very well, and so was, dae-ho’s, but now that he’s back—forever now, that might change—and, it did.

you turn sideways on your bed, your hand brushes the cold spot next to you, it’s empty, you don’t like that feeling at all, it makes you feel empty. you remember the moments when dae-ho kept you warm, the times after intimate moments when you would just lay in his chest, staring into his eyes, or simply when you would fall asleep in each other’s arms.

you check the time, and it’s 2:34 am, you sigh and stare at your ceiling, and you start to feel tears pooling in your eyes. you stand from your bed and head over to the closet. there, you take one of dae-ho’s jackets and hug it, as if he was wearing it as if you were hugging him. his scent made your heart ache, this was the closest you’d been to him in almost two months.

you sob your heart out as you slide down the wall, softly murmuring his name like a prayer, hoping he’ll hear you.

your finger softly curls dae-ho’s hair, and the two of you admire each other in the spotlight, his hand on your hip and yours on his shoulder, sharing the prom king and queen dance.

“prom king, huh?” you raise an eyebrow.

“no thanks to you, prom queen.” he chuckles and you roll your eyes.

“what’s a king without his queen?” dae-ho raises his eyebrows and nods. “this is so embarrassing, i hope they’re not looking—or looking at you.” you chuckle.

“no, trust me. they’re looking at you.” your eyes light up, and your face gets hot, but you don’t know if it’s because of embarrassment or his compliment. “you look unbelievable tonight, y/n. i can’t imagine you on our wedding day.” he says, your mouth opens and your heart flutters, god, you cannot wait to marry him, he’s all you’ve ever wished for, you don’t care that he’s your first love, you think he’s the love of your life—you know he is, and that’s what matters, not what people think.

“i love you.” your confession catches him off guard, he’s said it before, but you never said it back, only ‘me too’ but the words ‘I love you’ have never come out of your mouth, and even though you’ve been wanting to say it ever since the moment you laid eyes on him, something has been stopping you, but you knew it was about time.

“i love you more,” he says back, and you smile widely. you embrace each other, but continue your dance until it concludes.

shortly after graduation, the two of you decided that after dae-ho serves his time in the marines, you’d get married—and so you did. your wedding was beautiful, it was intimate, with only two or three family members from dae-ho’s side, for obvious reasons, and almost your whole family tree.

your family loved dae-ho as if he was their own, and that made you feel very grateful, dae-ho had a rough childhood, and seeing him get the love he never had growing up was better than anything you could ever ask for.

the day of your marriage was truly the happiest day you’ve ever been, and let’s not even talk about the night. from then on, you appreciated every single moment with dae-ho, you always have, but you’re treasuring them even more now. the two of you began to travel, you started with costa rica, of course, and so on—you went to some places such as japan, tennessee, bali, dominican republic, and all of europe, you’d hope that between this year and next, you can finish traveling the caribbean because dae-ho loves the caribbean and the beaches.

you had planned for the bahamas on your next trip, but this is around the time when your husband was struggling, and when he turned up missing.

dae-ho has been missing for almost two months, he just vanished into thin air, he didn’t leave you a note, or a text message, he just… left. and you missed him dearly, you thought these months as an eternity, and you couldn’t take it anymore.

the orange bottle of full pills was tempting you—you wanted to end this pain, you wanted to end it now. he could end it, if he would just show up on the doorstep, just him, you don’t even want flowers or a gift, you just need him, or the other reason to end it is to just not keep living.

why would you need to keep living? the reason you are hasn’t been here with you these days—you have no reason to keep living, so why not just finish it?

your brother found you, he took you in his arms, sobbing and calling out your name. the bright hospital light was bothering you, your vision was blurry and your heartbeat was steady, slower than usual, but it was still beating, and that was the important thing.

the cold, dry air of the hospital made you feel sicker as if you were actually dead. you had your eyes closed when you felt a familiar, warm touch in your hand. you try your best to open your eyes, but your vision is still blurry.

“dae-ho?” you croak, a drop of wetness rolling down your cheek in pain. you hear no answer, so you don’t know if you’re hallucinating, or dreaming, but you cry.

you had thought that maybe—maybe he’d been back, oh, god you wish he’d been back, just so that you could spend the time you have left with him—but one thing is for sure, and it’s that you’ll soon be seeing him, whether that would be in the flesh, or the after life, is still to be decided.

❛ i wish i could live without you

but you’re a part of me. ❜

[dumpster-fire-sapphic-failgirl]

Saw a post about how Predathos (battle) and Predathos (lore) don’t vibe bc this bunch of mortals were able to use some divine boons to kick the ass of an entity that was very much aware of them

Here’s my justification

1) Predathos hadn’t had anything to eat since they were beaten down last time and locked in a moon*. They were starved and absolutely the weakest they had ever been, which is why the Hells were able to do anything

2) Predathos had eyes on the Ruidisborn because they each carried a little bit of Predathos in them. Eyes were super focused on Imogen once it took her as the vessel. It needed her to get out of the cage. It only started paying attention to the Hells when they wouldn’t get out of its way

3) it did have the power to nom on the divine, but that was mostly healing focused and yeah that did seem to entirely be a nod to mechanics bc if it could consume all things purportedly gifted by divinity then all spells would have been off the table and the fight would have been… really boring and one sided. Divine smite shouldn’t have done shit I will concede that but also Matt wanted to make things fun for his players / Sam

4) The corruption effect/Molaesmyr : Predathos did eventually turn the exandrians on Ruidus into a whole bunch of other things. But like, that took a lot of time. So Imogen, carrying a temporarily subdued godeater, probably is okay to be around for a relatively short period of time. Her and Laudna might have to work some things out tho. I am writing Molaesmyr off as almost entirely a fuck up by Ludy

5) it seems like the gods can’t move *directly* against Predathos without becoming lunch meat. Anything they personally threw against Predathos would have been turned into power that made it easier to eat them

* just now realized that the reason why the names of the two dead gods were hidden away wasn’t as like a power play on infallibility or whatever, but that worship of their names would have fed them and that resurgence of energy in their mostly dead forms woulda been like a lil pudding pop to Predathos

[xxplastic-cubexx]

Chat have we discussed drunk chess with cherik cause i just think. That would be the darnedest silliest thing they could do

[yeonjune]

Yeonjun about the strain he felt while preparing for his debut solo project ✙ "GGUM" MAKING FILM

[somegrumpynerd]

HEY. POINTS FINGER… any thoughts on how everyone reacted when the other joined the team? as in how did killer react when dust came, how did he and dust react when horror came, how did they all react when cross came, etc. i love love LOVE your bad sanses thoughts way too much they make me so happy. if i write hurt you write comfort and it’s awesome. also how do you think they slowly started to get closer? just.. bah give me your thoughts on them!!!! any thoughts!!!!!!!!!

You fool!! You’ve given me a chance to ramble about my special little guys and now this post will stretch on forever!! Mwahahahahah >:3c

No but seriously this is probably gonna be wicked long cause I have 1 million thoughts about these guys joining and meeting each other so uh, readmore for everybody’s safety and sanity

(^ I wrote that in the document before I started typing out my actual thoughts and uh

yeah no kidding, this is like a fucking essay so proceed with caution)

OKAY SO

I’ve said before that Nightmare got Dust for two reasons; one being that Dream had just recently started working with Ink (and soon Blue) so he and Killer were no longer able to gang up on Dream. He wanted somebody else to bulk up their numbers and give Killer a little back up. He also was starting to realise that Killer didn’t handle being alone very well, since this was when he most often got worked up and broke things around the castle (and sometimes tipped over into stage 3). Dust would be a perfect fit since he had the same amount of lvl and fighting experience as Killer, and since they were so close in circumstance they would be practically like brothers right?

The irony that he thought this about a guy he was recruiting to help kill his brother was apparently lost on him.

They absolutely hated each other. Like, it was instant. Killer saw him as a replacement, why would boss go out and get another sans - one with almost the same backstory as me - when I’m right here? Does he think I’m not good enough? Am I disposable and this is the backup for when I die in combat? He didn’t take it well. He took it all out on Dust too, not cooperating in battle, trying to start fights in the castle, etc. He couldn’t outright kill him because Nightmare had given him strict orders not to, but Killer loves a loophole. If he roughed Dust up down to 1hp and something else happened to finish him off, technically he’d followed orders.

Dust just straight up didn’t want to be there. Nightmare just showing up and yoinking him had worked fine with Killer, but Dust had wanted to sit in his empty au and die, he had no intention of joining a team or doing work of any kind - good or bad. The only reason he didn’t just lie down and refuse the entire time was that he had to fight back against Killer, as much as he wanted to die he refused to give this ass the satisfaction or lvl. He didn’t intend to be any help out in the field either, but again, Killer was making sure he got fired at so he had to retaliate to stay alive.

Eventually it got bad enough that Nightmare had to pull Killer aside and demand answers. In the year or so of knowing him Killer had never willfully disobeyed orders before, so Nightmare needed to know what had gotten into him. He dispelled the replacement rumour right away, he still wasn’t quite softened up enough to be sappy about it but he made sure Killer understood what a good worker he was and that Nightmare had no intention of losing him. It didn’t help a lot, they still hated each other for other reasons, but it eased a little.

Killer still had pretty frequent dips into stage 3, except now he would go straight for Dust usually. Nightmare had tried to explain what he’d learned about it to Dust, but he didn’t really believe that it wasn’t just Killer deciding to try and kill him for funsies. He only accepted it after a particular episode where he attacked Nightmare instead, which Dust knew Killer wouldn’t try in his right mind.

After he came back to his senses he sought Dust out. The air around Killer was very different after a stage 3, sort of sombre and almost calm, so Dust let them sit together and Killer apologised for giving him such a hard time. They actually talked for the first time in months while Killer was still calm (or tolerable, as Dust describes it), and it didn’t magically fix everything but, things were a little better. They still fought and argued and bothered each other but it wasn’t as sharp, there was a lack of real murderous intent in it all, and sometimes after an episode they would talk a little bit. It was the best Nightmare was going to get for now, so he took it.

They were still completely incompetent about taking care of themselves though. Neither of them would eat unless prompted and Nightmare didn’t have good enough knowledge of mortals to know when that should be to stop them passing out from hunger on the job. Not to mention the stars were now a full team, and with the way Killer and Dust would sometimes rather target each other on the field he could do with more backup.

Horror was the first of the group to get a choice in joining. Nightmare had taken note of how much Dust didn’t want to be part of things, and while it was in his best interests in the long run given his situation, Horror’s au was still mostly intact - though a little in disrepair. Horror was also the first in the group to have a good (and ongoing) relationship with his brother, so Nightmare knew he couldn’t just pop in and steal him, he had to be a bit more diplomatic with this one and offer a deal.

He gave Horror some time to think on his proposal - he would set up regular deliveries of food to Horror’s au in exchange for him joining their team - and was quite surprised when Horror agreed, with some stipulations. Horror was equally surprised when Nightmare agreed so easily to his terms (that he didn’t want his brother to know what he’d be doing, and that he wouldn’t kill). A little down the line the terms were altered to add that he would also be left to visit his au every week or so.

Horror was not impressed meeting the other two. He didn’t need his power as judge anymore to sense the lvl coming off them both, and given who they were working for he was instantly distrustful of them both (the uh, brother situation did not help). He was also in a place that had an abundance of food for the first time in probably years, so he was doing a lot of going hog wild in the kitchen and then getting very sick as a result.

Dust didn’t particularly feel anything for him. This guy hated him, sure, but it wasn’t forward and slashy like with Killer, it was just quiet loathing which was fine. That’s how Dust felt about himself so, y��know, mood. He did kind of feel sorry for him though, not just because of the whole famine and everything, but also because he was watching this guy eat like his life depended on it and then get sick and undo it day after day. He was the one who suggested Horror getting his food in moderation to Nightmare, which did help but was an absolute ordeal to enforce. Y’know how some people get hangry? Imagine that but you haven’t had a proper meal in years and now these people give you tiny amounts of food and don’t let you eat more for hours. The hunger mood swings were a sight to behold, you would never have guessed in those days that Horror specified not wanting to kill.

When his ability to eat had evened out and he was in better shape, Horror made a point of apologising to Dust for being aggressive with him. Over time he’d kind of softened up on him from his initial impression, since he could see plainly how wracked with guilt Dust was over his situation. It was a little easier to imagine that whatever he’d done was truly out of desperation and not just for fun, as Horror had assumed at first sight. 

They also both retained that classic sans laziness, so it was easy for them to share a space while saying and doing nothing. It made Horror the first person that Dust willingly spent time around in the castle (and vice versa since Horror was still largely suspicious of Nightmare and Killer - the deal seemed too good to be true and the stage 3 episodes didn’t help). As time went on, Horror kind of became Dust’s emotional support skeleton in a way. Dust had become quite averse to touch in his solitude and Horror very slowly brought him back out with casual gentle touches, until not only did he no longer freeze or stiffen at being grabbed but Dust would seek him out to flop next to on the couch. Horror claimed it was just returning the favour for helping with his eating situation, but really it was nice to have something resembling a friend here.

Killer, for his part, was going through This is My Replacement 2: Electric Boogaloo. Not to the same degree as with Dust, since Horror was quite a bit different, but Killer was still wary of this new addition. He didn’t really instigate anything though since, to be honest, Horror had the intimidation factor. He was like a foot taller than both of them, he had a cracked skull and completely different magic and it seemed like every time Killer saw him he was eating bread like a wolf eats a deer. So while he was going through his food moderating, Killer mostly just stayed quiet and kept his distance.

Horror had not softened on him like he had with Dust, since Killer didn’t openly show remorse. He still watched him with distrust, especially after seeing the way he scrapped with Dust for seemingly no reason other than for violence’s sake. Killer was still mostly targeting Dust in his stage 3s, but Horror had to be careful to stay out of his way since he was still working with much lower hp than the other two. What did start to convince him was seeing how similar Killer and Dust were after a stage 3 episode. Once Killer was slightly more composed (ie stopped crying), he became so tired and quiet and blunt about things he normally joked his way around. It was a little startling, but also started to bring Horror around to the idea that Killer might regret his actions too, just buried under several layers of whatever the hell is also wrong with him at any given time.

Killer and Horror only really started interacting after talking about Dust. Killer was asking how he got Dust to like him since he seems to hate everyone and everything else, Horror told him very pointedly it was because he wasn’t trying to kill Dust. Killer admitted he wasn’t trying to kill Dust, at least not anymore, he just wanted to fight for fun. It opened up a better channel of understanding, knowing that Killer did not actually have murderous intent behind his swings (stage 3 notwithstanding). It made it easier for Horror to occasionally get involved in the roughhousing which Killer delighted in, knowing that the other two knew how to hold back enough to keep him from dusting.

Speaking of stage 3, it was around this time that Killer and Dust made a very important deal. After a particularly rough episode with a little too close of a call, Killer showed up in Dust’s room and begged him shakily to make a promise - that if he ever got too out of control during one of his stages, Dust would kill him. He’d been told over and over by Nightmare that it was impossible for Killer to hurt him since he was immortal, but now there were more people around him where that wasn’t the case, and he wouldn’t be able to live with himself if he came out of a stage and found himself alone. Dust promised.

It’s also worth mentioning that, once they were all close enough to be on speaking terms, Horror started bullying the shit out of these two about eating. Now that Horror knew neither of them were going to kill him, he felt safe enough to pick them up by the scruff and set them at the table to say they weren’t leaving until they had at least a snack. He let them pick what they would eat - he wasn’t that cruel about it - but he had to see them eat at least 3 times a day or they would hear about it.

It was by no means perfect or regular, but after about half a year Nightmare finally had henchmen who ate food and worked together (mostly).

Now here’s the problem… I still haven’t really figured out how or why Cross joined the team. Like, obviously there’s some kind of point in the events of underverse where it splits off into an alternate timeline, but I haven’t really figured out where yet so. Leave that one with me just a little longer. Cross joins.

Nightmare really truly didn’t intend to take anyone else in. They were (mostly) getting along, they were pretty well matched to fight the stars, he had no need of more mortals.

…but he was also pretty soft at this point. Every one of them had taken a blow to his I’m immortal I’m an island I don’t get attached to others persona and he’d gotten pretty damn fond of them all. This was why when he felt the sheer weight of loneliness radiating off of Cross, he just couldn’t bring himself to leave him.

So Cross entered the castle. 

He did not particularly intend to stay or make friends, he was trying to get his world back and nothing more. He even revealed a little down the line that he outright refused to kill, and was quite surprised to find that Nightmare was fine with that. At the start he was polite but not friendly with the others and mostly kept to himself.

Dust, as is often the case, did not really have an opinion. Another new guy, this one was self sufficient and didn’t bother him so he had no reason to get involved. He was content to be in the same room as Cross but didn’t start up any conversations.

Horror felt the need to speak to Cross, since Dust would happily stay silent for years and Killer was, well, Killer. Horror was somehow the closest thing to normal they had, so he was the one that made small talk. Mostly asking what Cross would like for meals and encouraging him to pick something he liked when he got the answer of “anything is fine”. As Cross settled in a bit more and actually opened up, they bonded over being the only two to enjoy food. Horror made a point of adding chocolate to the stock they kept in the kitchen and making tacos here and there for Cross.

Horror was also the first Cross kind of warmed to, mostly because he was the one devoid of lvl and Nightmare had mentioned he’d also said he wouldn’t kill. Learning a little about his au’s situation only softened Cross to him more, especially seeing that he still cared a lot for his brother and was trying to protect his home (even if Cross found it unthinkable that he lived away from it). It was through Horror that he also got accustomed to Dust, how being quiet and distant was kind of his default and that he also felt deeply haunted by the loss of his world. They weren’t exactly friends, but it was comfortable enough.

So now boss had taken in another new person, someone who takes orders like a soldier and fights with knives and ruthless precision and aims to be his righthand man, and Killer was ecstatic. By now he’d mostly put his fears of being disposable behind him, Nightmare had gotten a bit less subtle in showing how important they all were to him and Killer felt confident he wouldn’t be replaced. Which was a little bit funny, because the only guy he didn’t feel threatened by was the one who absolutely competed for his spot.

Cross needed to prove he was useful, he had to feel like he earned his keep and that all the training and suffering he’d done was for a reason. When Nightmare sent them on missions, Cross aimed to be the fastest and the most efficient and to report to Nightmare without question. Horror and Dust looking on would have expected Killer to see this 100% as a threat to his position as (self proclaimed) Nightmare’s second in command, and to go for this guy’s throat when nobody else was around.

But Killer was fascinated. Cross was completely different from any of them, bar Nightmare whose au is a whole different kettle of fish, so he had a certain element of unpredictability to him. Horror and Dust were both based on classic sans just like him, so to a certain degree he knew how they would feel about most things and what they might say, the only differences being in what they had experienced through their own timelines. Cross was based on a swap sans and his au had taken wild twists and turns away from usual events, so Killer had to learn everything about him by poking and prodding for answers or observing from a distance, much like back when it was just him and Nightmare. Cross was something new to be studied and Killer loved taking notes.

Cross did not see this as friendly. He was competing with Killer for approval, not realising Killer was playing their contest like a game. When he saw Cross training he would jump in to spar for fun, but Cross saw his rival trying to get a jump on him and take him out of the running. When Killer would hang around and pester Cross in their off time with questions, it didn’t seem like someone taking interest, it seemed like someone being nosy and looking for weaknesses to exploit. When Horror mentioned that Killer was being surprisingly contained and friendly, Cross really thought he was fucking with him.

The first time Cross was willing to even consider this was the case was when his locket came loose on the field and Killer ran back to find it, since one of the notes he’d taken was how the locket wasn’t something Cross would play about (the same as Horror with food). It didn’t make sense for someone who was seriously competing to have him kicked out to just hand his necklace back, no ransoms or attempts to crush it to upset him, just some vague remark about “owing him one” and then right back to Nightmare for orders.

Cross had to give him something of a chance after that, Horror helped a lot by telling him “he doesn’t want to hurt you, he just doesn’t know how to be normal”. It was mostly a playful jab at Killer, but reframing their interactions changed it significantly for Cross. Now they were sparring playfully and having friendly competition on jobs. He wasn’t as put off when Killer went into stage 3 because he knew he could match him in combat and the others were always on hand to help restrain or distract him. Cross also took note of how Killer calmed down a lot for physical touch, not unlike how Dust had warmed up to Horror. It went a long way into not only making him a little less combative for attention every day, but it seemed to put longer stretches between his episodes (which Cross had also started tracking so they wouldn’t be caught out by them as much).

For his part, Killer has disobeyed instructions in the past to benefit Cross, usually ignoring the task to help him if he’s hurt. He’s also given Nightmare nudges towards praising him because he’s noted that that’s what Cross needs in the same way he needs touch (not that Nightmare doesn’t praise them normally, but when Cross is going through it and needs something). He also doesn’t particularly like chocolate but has made a point of not admitting this to Horror so he can give his chocolate to Cross.

(It’s also worth noting that Cross is the only one, besides Nightmare, that has been to Horror’s au. He offered to help out during the food delivery and got to meet Horror’s Papyrus (who he is a little intimidated by but ultimately friendly with, even though it’s a little weird since he’s a good bit different from his own Papyrus). Dust and Killer can’t really visit for a few reasons, mostly because everyone will notice their lvl immediately and know what they’ve done. Dust especially doesn’t know how he would react to having a Papyrus in front of him again and doesn’t want to put Horror's family at risk to find out. Whenever he visits, his Papyrus asks about Cross now and sometimes tries to make tacos for him (key word tries, he’s still a Papyrus after all). He may have joked that seeing Cross sometimes is “like having another brother but younger and less lazy” and when Horror told him this Cross may or may not have cried.)

And that’s where we are now!

They’re a very strange group who’ve been through some inexplicable events and have all changed each other in one way or another. And whether or not it can be admitted, they are a family c:

Now onto how Nightmare was made emotionally open by each of them!! In this essay I will no just kidding could you imagine this is already like 7 pages long

If you got to the end of this post please drink some water and get yourself a snack

[silverwhittlingknife]

hi Silver! o/ because that fanart made me wonder - would you happen to know when/where Dick's stuffed elephant plush Zitka turns up in the comics?

GREETINGS CAM <3333 THAT ART WAS SO CUTE

Yeah, I think your instincts are right - it's a truly adorable bit of transformative fandom, but I'm 95% percent sure it's not comics canon. Barbara has canon plushies, but I don't think anyone else does.

I got kinda invested in the investigation (it's hard to prove a negative!) and I ended up typing out an entire History of Elinore/Zitka, so, uh, if you're curious, meet me below the cut for:

Where does Elinore / Zitka - the animal - appear in comics?

Did Dick ever have a stuffed elephant toy in comics?

Where does Elinore / Zitka appear in comics?

We're gonna go in chronological order!

Dick's circus elephant friend was first created for practical reasons: in Batman 436, Marv Wolfman does a big expanded flashback to Dick's circus backstory as a way to subtly show us Tim before officially introducing him (so that we can have a technically-solvable mystery-of-Tim's-identity in LPoD). In this comic, there's an elephant named Elinore who loves Dick:

Aww. Such a cute elephant!

Batman 436 comes out in August 1989. New Titans 60 comes out a few months later, in November, and guess what? When Dick visits the circus, he is suddenly surprised by an unexpected blast from the past! It turns out that even though it's been years, Elinore still remembers him!

Here's the part where Elinore remembers Dick:

SUCH a cute elephant. I love her.

(Guess who else still remembers Dick even though it was so long ago. Guess which other character is about to be an unexpected blast from the past. Guess which character Elinore is directly paralleling guess guess guess sorry everything is about Dick and Tim in my mind but I can focus I swear)

Four years later, in 1993, Batman: The Animated Series retells Dick's origin story. They like and keep Wolfman's elephant, but they change her name to Zitka:

Wolfman doesn't return to the elephant beyond those two appearances, and a few years down the line, New Titans gets cancelled and Wolfman's not writing Dick anymore anyway. So the animal gets abandoned for a while, until Devin Grayson, a fan of both Wolfman and B:tAS, revives the Wolfman-era Titans team in JLA/Titans and then the ongoing series Titans 1999.

Grayson then brings back the elephant in a flashback to Dick's past in Titans 16 (Jun 2000), where she imports the B:tAS name. Sometimes I'm skeptical of TV-to-comics imports, but honestly, I endorse this one. You lose the alliteration, which is a shame, but IMO Zitka is a better elephant name than Elinore.

Here's Dick with the newly-christened Zitka in Titans 16:

Grayson also briefly references the elephant in Gotham Knights 20 and - in a final angsty callback - in Nightwing 88 (Feb 2004), where Zitka tries futilely to comfort Dick in the midst of his trauma conga line:

... And... honestly, I think that's it for comic appearances? The two Wolfman comics plus the three Grayson comics.

Both Wolfman and Grayson are writing multiple titles - Batman, New Titans, Titans, Gotham Knights, and Nightwing between the two of them, spanning a big chunk of Dick's post-Crisis canon - and both writers use the elephant for heartwarming moments of nostalgia, which means if you're doing a post-Crisis readthrough for Dick, Elinore/Zitka feels memorable. But I don't think she actually shows up that much.

For post-2011, I am not as well-informed - throwing this out to the dash? anyone know? - but I feel like Zitka the heartwarming symbol of Dick's heartwarming circus past is, uh, thematically very at odds with the Court of Owls evil!circus vibes, so my instinct is that this story element was almost certainly dropped in the reboot.

Did Dick ever have a stuffed elephant toy in comics?

In WFA, yes; in main comics continuity, no. Technically, I have not read every comic ever published, so I could be wrong!! But I don't think so.

Below, find my rambling reasoning on the tonal vibes of pre-Crisis, post-Crisis, and post-2011, and why this particular story element doesn't seem right to me for the first two.

Pre-Crisis (...okay, mostly the Silver Age): stuffed animal, yes or no?

tl;dr no, requires too much background knowledge on the part of the reader, plus the elephant wasn't a thing until later

Elinore doesn't get created until post-Crisis, but also just generally, pre-Crisis callbacks are more along the lines of this reference in Batman 129 (published in 1960), where, wow, Batman and Robin are hunting jewel thieves - and it turns out Robin recognized this strongman! BUT HOW?!

The comic goes on to recap Dick's entire origin story in flashback, on the assumption that you may not know it.

(BTW, if you'd like to know more about Haly's Circus throughout the years, nightwingology has a great post here summarizing a lot of fun plotlines and characters!)

Basically: Silver Age comics are very self-consciously episodic and kid-friendly; they're not generally gonna do overly-elaborate callbacks because they don't know what comics their kid readers may have randomly picked up or remember.

By the time of post-Crisis, comic books were being written for an adult audience buying from the direct market, i.e. readers who are collecting whole runs & don't need or want Dick's origin story to be recapped to us in full every time it's referenced. That's why in post-Crisis, we get stuff like "hey, neat, this particular soda brand is getting mentioned in several different books!!" or "in order to understand this story arc, buy SIXTEEN DIFFERENT COMICS in FIVE DIFFERENT RUNS and read them ALL ACCORDING TO A NUMBERED ORDER and also you better be following the individual plotlines and recognize these five minor characters who we don't bother to introduce!! Good luck!!" But the elaborate post-Crisis plotlines - and subtler worldbuilding like a stuffed animal callback to Dick's backstory - don't make a lot of story sense UNLESS you're imagining your readers as completionist adult fans.

So IMO a stuffed animal wouldn't be a pre-Crisis thing unless it was The Episodic Story Of the Week, and I don't think a stuffed animal is action-adventure-y enough for the fast-paced storytelling of the Silver Age. (Unless it, like, came to life and tried to eat you or something.)

Post-Crisis: stuffed animals, yes or no?

tl;dr: no, Dick's a manly tough guy, he's not gonna have a stuffed animal, that'd be lame, like something Tim might do

Part of the edgy grimdark adult vibes in 80s/90s comics is that some characters who used to be kinda silly & goofy & lighthearted - like Batman and Robin - get reimagined as Serious and Angsty and Edgy in a Tough Cool Manly Brooding Way. This massively affects characterization for Bruce, Dick, and Bruce and Dick's relationship.

(I obviously love this change & love the tense Bruce-and-Dick interactions, but plenty of fans of the earlier fluffy comics really disliked the edgy retcons of Miller / Wolfman / Starlin / et al.)

The upshot is that post-Crisis is a period when you could have a recurring reference like a stuffed elephant, but you wouldn't have a stuffed elephant, not for Dick. I think a toy like that would be too cutesy / childish / effeminate to give a male character in post-Crisis, unless you were poking fun at him.

Now, you could probably let Tim have a stuffed animal, because Tim is sometimes cool but also sometimes a tryhard loser who is faking being cool and not entirely pulling it off (see e.g. the Robin comic where he practices tough-guy faces in the mirror, or the Teen Titans comic where Conner discovers his cringy Enya CD, or when he's fanboying over Connor and it's awkward, etc etc.). A stuffed animal would be deeply embarrassing, and you'd have to be careful to compensate by having Tim do something cool afterward - but Tim's character concept allows for "he's kind of a loser sometimes."

But Dick isn't!! In post-Crisis, Dick's a tough / impressive / "cool guy" character, the kind of guy anyone would want to be, even in the flashbacks where he's Robin, and even in the stories where he's more lighthearted than angsty. It'd be kinda lame for Dick to have a stuffed elephant, so he wouldn't. I feel like Dick would be more likely to poke fun at it if someone had one, like when he's making fun of Wally for liking the Hardy Boys. Dick could have a Batman action figure, at most, and if he had one he would have it ironically.

Basically: in post-Crisis, a male character hugging a stuffed elephant feels more likely to be a punchline to me, not something poignant. (Even with Tim, Tim could have an embarrassing stuffed animal, but he couldn't hug it when sad - that's too far. Maybe Booster Gold might do this. Probably he wouldn't, but spiritually, he would. Sorry Booster ilu! <3)

Instead, Dick instinctively deals with his inner turmoil like the TORTURED ACTION HERO he is: by punching things and brooding and yelling and joining the mob and sleeping on rooftops and going on obsessive secret missions and acquiring Angsty Stubble!! Just like Batman!

(Technically I don't know if Bruce ever joined the mob but you know he would.)

Anyway as you know this is my favorite continuity and I am poking fun affectionately, but uh, yeah sdfsfdsfs. No stuffed animals.

Post-2011 / Infinite Frontier / Wayne Family Adventures: stuffed animals, yes or no?

tl;dr it's in WFA! Probably not anywhere else, but it could be.

Post-2011 stuff tends to be cutesier overall, most of all in the current Infinite Frontier era. So I don't feel like this would be tonally out-of-line with IF comics. Taylor tends to go for more meme-y references rather than fanfic references, though.

So the obvious best fit is WFA, which is aiming for a rough approximation of Silver Age family-friendly vibes - wholesome, episodic plots, Teaching Good Moral Lessons For The Youth, etc. - plus lots of Easter eggs for fanfic readers and some comic references.

And look, here we are:

Aww.

Whew - that's everything I could find!

Anyway as you can probably tell, I LOVE the elephant, so this was a very entertaining rabbit hole to go down, thank you <3

[spotaus]

New Age AU (The Magic Retreats)

Hi guys!!! So, I wrote this one in a fit of passion, but here's a brief take 2 on the most important chapter of the fic and the first one I posted! (In which Night becomes Tiny again :] ) As always this drabble is unedited and un-checked so uhh. Good luck!

(HI @ancha-aus , @papiliovolens , and @mutzelputz welcome back!)

   The days felt like they were growing longer again. Maybe it was the change of the seasons, or the workload ramping up again making his nights bleed into his mornings. No matter the case, Nightmare was lucky to have moments of rest from his endless piles of debts and taxes and laws and requests that were strewn all about his office. They were nice, neat, piles now, but they seemed to be an endless cycle. He'd solve one problem and it would result in a new report of catastrophe somewhere else.

   Often, he wondered whether it was that his Mother's ruling style had truly worked, or if she'd ignored it. After all, she'd been a God amongst mortals, why would she care for a few challenged livelihoods amidst her paradise?

   The sharp clash of metal on magic drew Nightmare's attention back to the present. Against all odds, he'd managed to convince Cross to start training his sword again. When Cross had first started getting lessons to properly control his magic, harnessing even whisps of Nightmare's own spells on occasion, he'd quickly neglected his physical training. Over the last few weeks, Nightmare had voiced his worry that Cross might find himself up against another foe like Dust. One who he couldn't simply control. He needed to re-learn his old battle tactics. Only then, he'd promised, they would move on to harnessing both at once.

   So, now, he was sparring against Horror in the training room. Nightmare sat off to the side on the benches, Dust and Killer on either side of him watching intently. Two of his tendrils hovered readily before him, ready to pounce to intercept any wayward attacks or truly dangerous intent, though he trusted his Knight to not put his newest comrade in any real danger. The other two tendrils lay lax behind the bench, curling comfortably beneath where his other Knights sat at his sides.

   These were the sorts of daily distractions he enjoyed. Which pulled him away from the stress of the papers and the outside world. He could focus solely on his charges and how best to help them. They helped him so often, he just wanted to return the favor.

   His eyelight followed the movements, as Horror stayed more or less right on Cross's tail. His axe swung slower than normal, and it was obvious he was taking the training seriously without giving Cross a heart-attack from the force of his normal blows. It wasn't often Nightmare allowed them to pair up precisely because of that. Horror had no magic for Cross to control, none that would help him at least. Meanwhile, Horror's brute strength could snap Cross like a twig if something were to go slightly awry.

   A swing of the axe, Cross's longsword cracking against the handle as he blocked. A push-off, sending Cross back a few steps before he swung. Missed. The axe was on him again, this time towards his side. Cross jumped over it, swung his sword. Missed again. The axe came in again, from above. A narrow block, one which forced Cross to his knee, before Horror let up.

   Horror was simply a marvel of physical combat. He hadn't been a good fighter when Nightmare met him, but he'd learned very quickly. From watching the guards, from listening to Nightmare. Though, Nightmare was almost positive Killer had actually been his biggest influence. Killer, the cockpit, single Knight at that time. He'd taken Dust under his supervision at the time, practically heading the dismantling of the crime rings Dust knew so well all on his own. Meanwhile, Nightmare was working with Horror to understand how to fix the farming situation across the kingdom. Once things settled, and Nightmare expressed interest in having Horror stick around, it was Killer who showed off in combat training. Horror spun off his feet and pushed off his hands in the way expected of a much smaller, leaner, monster. Very similar to how Killer fought when he was playing around.

   It was evidently too unfamiliar for Cross. He'd been taught formal swordplay, but here in this kingdom? That was about as useful as playing with a slingshot and trying to operate a trebuchet. It seemed similar, but it could only get one so far.

   Cross had been steadily improving, of course. Just a year or so ago, Cross had been besting all the rest of the royal guard out on the training field. But placed against Killer, the best of the best at practical combat, no holds bar? He'd fumbled. Now, Nightmare knew Cross could hold his own against his proudest Knight. That meant a lot in such a short time. Pride filled his chest at the thought, as he watched the two of them clash again and again.

   He knew his time was running short for today. He'd had Dust and Killer work on their team-building and attack him earlier on in training while Cross and Horror were warming up. As he already knew, they were chatty, but very efficient in their coordination.

   "On your left!" Killer would call out. Dust would simply duck as Killer instead vaulted over his head as though emerging from the shorter Knight's shadow, knife in hand, glowing red with energy.

   Killer's use of deceptive verbal cues was a talent he'd come up with all his own. Nightmare remembered him pestering Dust over it every dinner for a week after he'd first thought of it. Dust had seemed annoyed at first, but Nightmare could tell after the first session of them trying it out, against him? He'd been unaware, and if his magic didn't work separate from his mind on occasion, they would have gotten him in the first two minutes.

   They'd used it again earlier, and even after several years it still kept Nightmare on his toes. He figured that was why he felt tired as he watched the two locked in mock battle before him. The cognitive challenges did tend to make his socket heavy with sleep. And he hated to admit it, but he always knew about when to end their afternoon trainings, because it lined up with when his mind would start to lag. Even years later, his body still seemed to respond to the familiar draw of a long-discarded bed time.

   He'd let them exchange a few more blows, before calling it off and ushering them all off to clean up before dinner. Even if he knew only Cross and Dust would go wash up. Horror would go change out of his training gear into clean clothes, he hated to look messy at the dinner table, abd Killer would simply stick to his side like glue.

   It never was a point of complaint, he appreciated the commitment, but sometimes he really did wish he'd at least take a moment to swap clothes. Sometimes he tracked all sorts of dirt and scraps of magic out of the training room and into the halls.

   Mm. The clashing seemed to have reached a rhythm. That meant Cross had gotten familiar with Horror's movement patterns again. It never lasted long, Horror was very adaptable, but it did mean that Cross would be locked into the stalemate now, or it'd be an easy defeat for Horror. Better to call it now and send them off with a bit of praise. They never ceased to impress him, they'd all grown so much.

   "Alright, end the match." he called. It didn't take hardly a moment for the order to register after his voice carried to the two monsters.

   Cross was the first to pull away, with Horror letting his swing fall short and his Axe's momentum swing up and into the air. He caught the grip and almost immediately stuffed it back into its own holster along his back. Cross sheathed his sword, and while a bit out of breath, he still grinned triumphantly and bowed amicably to Horror. Horror returned it with a nod. Their little ritual.

   "Wonderful work today, all of you." Nightmare announced, his front two tendrils slinking back to his sides as they no longer had danger to be hyper aware of. To defend against. "Tomorrow, I want to see you two spar again, I believe you are making great leaps in progress, Cross. Dust will provide you both with terrain obstacles in the form of erratic magic attacks to simulate a more turbulent battle field and provide Horror with more opportunity to practice dodging." The suggestion seemed well-recieved, and Nightmare let his good eyelight turn to Killer, who sat grinning beside him. "Killer, you and I will be doing more endurance training for your magic."

   "Looking forward to it, my Lord," Killer replied.

   That made Nightmare chuckle a bit. Once upon a time, Killer would tense up at the premise of magic training. Then, as he grew bolder, groan at the mention. He was not proficient in the sort of magic Cross, Dust, or he himself relied on, but his preferred weapon was a knife or two summoned by his own soul. Since it was magic, Nightmare insisted he learn to better sustain and alter it rather than letting it atrophy in the wake of his extensive physical training. Now, seeing him grin lazily at the idea, not a worry weighing on his soul? It made Nightmare feel a lot more justified in making the rambunctious Knight do the more "boring" practical training.

   "If we understand what to expect for the afternoon tomorrow, then you are dismissed. I will see you all at dinner," he declared. Humor filled his chest at the warmth which rolled off his knights at the mention of food. Dinner was always cooked by Ccino, and Ccino was the best cook. Nightmare would know.

   He watched as Cross gave a little salute before he turned on his heel to begin to follow Horror's lumbering gait towards the heavy doors separating this room from the hall. The newest Knight's voice was quiet, but excitable as he started to reflect on his techniques to Horror. He always debriefed after a training.

   Beside him, Dust swung forward off the bench and landed silently, already moving to follow the other two. His body-language always seemed disgruntled, and his expression was hidden under his darkened hood, but Nightmare knew he was pleased with his work tonight. Content with what he had accomplished.

   "Cross is gettin' a lot faster." Killer's voice was calm beside him, and Nightmare followed the other's hollow gaze to where the other three were discarding their gear, hanging it up on the racks near the door where they always stored the supplies.

   Four spaces, one for each knight. Killer had gouged his name into the wooden base of his own years ago.

   "I agree." Nightmare let one of his tendrils wrap at the ground around a leg of the bench. "It helps that he is eager and willing to improve on his skills. And that he has others to lean on as he continues to learn."

   Killer's scoff quickly devolved into a laugh at the thinly veiled praise. It wasn't unusual of him to slip it into conversation. A quick, gentle nudge of praise. Acknowledgement and appreciation. Killer had heard to most of it, and Nightmare often worried he'd find it insincere.

   As far as he knew, he never did.

   "You should go put up your armor as well." Nightmare suggested, nudging at Killer's back with a tendril.

  

   "Yes, sir." Killer chimed, the sharpness of his laughter still on his tongue.

   Nightmare rose simply, and Killer pushed off the bench with a quick hop. His feet planted, and Nightmare waited for him to take a step towards where the others were before moving to follow. It felt right, to see them all in one spot. Relaxed.

   He moved to follow Killer's quick steps, only... All at once his vision seemed to double, and he halted himself. He could feel his tendrils lash out, moving to stabilize him against the floor of the training room. He still stood upright, just barely, but it seemed all his balance had left him. Instinctively, in a fit of habit, he shut his good socket and took a moment. The swaying feeling he was gripped by, even after a deep breath an counting to five, did not fade. The darkness which usually seemed to calm him only seemed to make the swaying worse. He could not tell if the motion was coming from him, or I the ground beneath him was shifting like the deck of a boat. Without his vision he couldn't orient up versus down, let alone find his stability again.

   Opening his good socket provided him with orientation, though his vision still danced and swirled. He was looking down, down towards the brick ground, from the space behind his palm. When did he place his hand to his socket? The view included his legs, which he recognized now were shaking, and his tendrils which were trying to hold him in place.

   And...

   He jolted at the contact he could see but hadn't felt in the slightest. He skull reeled up so that he could see who had touched him. One hand on his elbow. The other- when did he grab Killer's arm? When had Killer turned around to look at him? Why was Killer looking at him like that?

   It was Killer, who had ahold of him, though he couldn't feel the Knight's touch, and he couldn't tell if he was gripping the other's arm at all. Though he was, he could see it.

   His vision warped again with the quick movement. A desperate bid to look past Killer. Was there a threat? The blurry form of Dust shot past him, he thought. Horror and Cross still seemed to be by the door.

   The ceiling. Why was he looking at the ceiling? No, wait, the floor now. It grew closer, in the space between himself and Killer, as the opening for him to see it grew smaller. Then he couldn't see it at all, his vision replaced swiftly by- training gear. The leather smell invaded his senses as the rest failed him. He couldn't feel Killer, though he knew the knight was near to him. That, as far as he could tell, Killer had caught him. That he'd sunken to the ground under his own weight.

   Why?

   His socket wasn't being helpful. It seemed, from what he saw, that his tendrils were trying to melt away as they moved errantly to slap onto Killer's back or the ground beyond. Surely that wasn't right? His tendrils had never wavered. He shut his socket again, letting his skull sink into the training armor again.

   It didn't occur to him for a few moments, that he couldn't hear his knights, until he suddenly could.

   The voices were loud and grating, breaking his wobbling darkness once again as he tried to force his socket back open. What was wrong with him?

   "Horror, I said go get Ccino! Now!" Killer. He'd know that voice anywhere, though he didn't like the angry tone. Like fire spitting from his tongue seemingly right above Nightmare's skull. "This isn't some sort of test, I- I don't know what this is. It can't be good."

   Nightmare tried to reach out. Not physically, it felt he still couldn't control his limbs. No, he tried to sense. Did the others know what was wrong with him? Was the rising panic in his chest originating from his own emotions or theirs? Had... had one of them done something?

   No, it wasn't them.

   "Shit." Somewhere behind him, he heard Dust's voice hiss. "His magic levels are dropping. And fast."

   For a second, Nightmare was stunned. What did he mean his magic levels were dropping? Though, it made sense. Somewhere deep in his chest he could feel it, the swaying motion as his magic tried to peel away from his bones. He-

   "What do you-" Killer still sounded frustrated, and he too spat an expletive a moment later.

   Nightmare, for the briefest moment, thought he felt touch again against his skull. He let his blurry socket fall closed again, the vision only worsening as his magic rocked with unseen waves of revulsion.

   "Cross, try to grab his magic," Killer ordered.

   The familiar splattering of the young Night would've been comforting, if the suggestion didn't fill him with dread. Killer knew better than that. They'd agreed Cross could only touch on controlling his magic. Nothing more. It was too vast.

   "W-what! I- I shouldn't-" Cross attempted to stammer a defense, but Killer was quicker with words. Always had been.

   "Just try. Now. Hold it in place and see if it stablizes." The command was a lot more controlled than the previous one, but his tone was leaving no room for error. "When the King and Ccino are unavailable, I'm in charge. Listen to me."

   Nightmare had never heard Killer take charge in such a way before, and in his haze he might've written it off as a product of his imagination. All of this being some sort of weird hallucination. But he felt the invasive force of Cross' magic snake over his bones.

   He'd felt it before, a sort of blanket or hand-hold aimed at the ends if his tendrils which could make them twitch a bit with Cross's own will. This time he felt it creep up the length of his spine and dig unseen claws into his shoulder blades. He could feel it, just like he could now feel Killer's chin and shoulder, where his skull had been tucked. He could feel the hand supporting his back, the other his side. He felt limp as the forceful magic washed over him.

   Nightmare gagged.

   Cross's magic caught on something, like a hook finding the fish, and for a brief few moments, Nightmare felt like he had a ball of gunk in his non-existant gut. Something heavy and feral, trying to escape.

   For just a moment, he regained a breath of awareness. He felt his Knight supporting his weight, he felt the nakedness of his back where his tendrils had completely abandoned him, he felt the emotions of the three still with him. Fear. Confusion. Anger. He didn't like it much. He still couldn't move his limbs.

   And just as quickly as it was stable, the hold on the wild magic slipped away. Like the fish had broken the string.

   It flowed up, like the force of a dam finally released. Through his ribcage, past his shoulders where Cross's magic seemed to dissipate all at once, into his mouth.

   Nightmare regained some semblance of control over his body at that moment. As the magic seemed to rush towards freedom. He shoved away from Killer all at once, the chill of the stone hitting his palms heavily and his socket opening if only to watch as he lost it. That dark, thick, sticky magic that had marked him as a bad omen. That had gifted him the power to rule in place of his twin. Protect those he loved.

    It spilled to the stone before him, and he was stunned to watched that, as he heaved suddenly labored breaths, it sunk away. Disappeared. Just like that, instead of his familiar darkness, the protective shield, the instinctive defense he had grown to know, he was staring at the floor. And the space in which his wobbling arms hid under too-big sleeves, and from the cuffs escaped perfect, pearly-white bone. Bone he could never seem to reach no matter how hard he scrubbed with water and soap. Bones that seemed so frail in the torchlight.

   "My king?"

   Nightmare let his eyelight raise from the ground. It wasn't as wobbly anymore, his vision slowly coming back to normal. He still took his time trailing from the ground, to look at Killer's pants. He was on his knees, hardly an arm's length away. Then the edges of his chestplate. His arms were outstretched, hovering barely away from touching Nightmare. He shook at the closeness, but didn't dare try to move. Killer's soul was wobbling. Nightmare's boww furrowed at the sight. It was very small, but he'd always notice the little changes and moves. Though, he noticed an absence of something at the back of his skull as he stared. Something missing.

   Killer's face was last. He looked serious, his dark sockets not a new sight, but Nightmare hardly saw Killer so serious. He'd seen the look before. Usually when he'd see someone bothering Ccino. It had always been brief, quickly disguised under his patented sadistic grin. Killer just watched him now. As though he was sone glass sculpture ready to tip off the end of the table.

   He hated, as he stared, that he couldn't- he could feel-

   He tried to shift, to whip his head to look for the knight he knew should've been behind him. And he was right, of course. A glimpse of Dust's shadowed skull and tense body-language told Night he was on high-alert, but Nightmare hadn't been able to feel him. Hadn't sensed his presence at all. No emotions, no aura, no nothing.

  

   "Woah, steady!" Killer yelped as Nightmare felt himself tilt.

   Looking up at Dust had disoriented him. The weight distribution was different now. His body listed to the side, and he flinched when arms wrapped around at his sides and tugged his upper half onto soft fabric. Killer's legs. Killer had caught him.

   "My king, Nightmare, it's you, right?" He sounded the same. Something told Nightmare he was uncertain.

   "Y-" His attempt to speak was short-lived. His voice wasn't right. It was high-pitched and raw. All the rumble and low tones entirely missing. He couldn't be sure if he stopped on account of keeping his pride alive, or if he feared speaking in a voice he hadn't heard in years.

   It didn't help that he couldn't feel them. No matter how much he tried, the only feeling in his chest was his own solitary anxiety. Balling up tighter and tighter, an old friend come home again. If he could tell what they were thinking- if he could know if he was safe...

   He bit back his panic, holding in the weakness which was threatening to give him away. Though, what else was there to give? If he was right, then the prophecy had finally rejected him. Left him as an offering to a pack of wolves.

   Nightmare knew he was shaking, but some irrational part of him thought that if he kept his socket shut that this would all be some absurd night terror and he'd wake up cozy in his bed, or exhausted at his desk, or maybe passed out on the floor. Somewhere else. Anywhere else.

  

   "What's wrong?" That voice was deeply familiar, and all at once Nightmare felt like he had a surge of strength. "Why did Horror rush me back here? Where is our King?" It was Ccino. He sounded more frustrated than anything else, but he didn't need to feel his emotions to know the rise to his tone. The worry buried there.

   "We finished training and everything was fine," Killer explained, tone as even as he could muster, "But when we were on our way out, he just collapsed."

   Nightmare pitied him, having to tell Ccino any sort of bad news. Nightmare didn't think as he attempted again to shove himself up. If only to catch a glimpse of Ccino.

   As he peered barely over Killer's shoulder, he saw what the others did. Ccino had some sort if flour or wheat all down the front of his nice apron, and a few streaks along the thighs of hid pants from where he'd probably wiped his hands along the way. His expression was a mix of concern and fury that set Nightmare's soul into a pretzel-twist of regret, and his eyelights scanned the room as he rapidly approached Killer. Obviously looking for answers.

   Only, Ccino arrived to Killer's side, and his growing rage seemed to stop all at once, alongside his steps. He stared down at Nightmare with wide eyes. Nightmare stared up at him wearily. The king's sockets were beginning to water. Ccino's expression, the way his balled fists twitched and relaxed, the way he seemed to lose all the tension I'm his body, just getting a glimpse at him. Ccino recognized his face, no doubt about it.

   "Nightmare?" Ccino's voice was small.

   Nightmare fumbled a bit as he tried to launch away from Killer. Having Ccino so close to him simply... broke whatever had been holding back the emotional damage within. It didn't help in the slightest when Ccino crouched and immediately tugged him away from Killer and into a gentle bear-hug there on the floor.

   For the first time, in a very long time, he found that the welling of tears in his sockets didn't result in dark, tarlike, goop that fell in chunks down his skull. This time the tears were real, a transparent lilac which raced down his cheeks abd planted themselves against the fabric of Ccino's tunic and apron. He wasn't wearing his fur, he was smart like that.

   Ccino's arms wrapped around his back like they always did, and Nightmare felt himself slipping. Ccino was safe. He had always been safe.

   Nightmare didn't have time to begin sobbing as he had expected, or to even begin to hyperventilate into Ccino's shirt or curl into a ball against his chest. The moment Ccino nuzzled the side of his skull, his vision went blurry again.

   At the tightening of Ccino's grip, he heard Dust's voice again. "Magic-loss. A lot of it." Faintly rolled into his mind like a distance voice two doors over. He didn't quite catch when Killer started to speak again, or Ccino worriedly said his name. Dust was right, the magic was gone. Out of nowhere. It was a lot for his little body to handle.

[ruvviks]

All That's Left follows two journalists and their friends in post-apocalyptic United States as they travel from the fallen east coast megalopolis Opportunity back to Los Angeles, crossing through a harsh wasteland overrun with zombies— only to find out that there is a lot more life left than what the protected cities want them to believe. On their journey they meet dozens of people living their lives as peaceful as possible away from military forces, corporations, and corrupt governments; and they learn that the same mutated ghouls that took down Opportunity are spreading rapidly through the country, destroying everything in their path. Will this finally be the end of the world as we know it?

taglist (opt in/out)

@shellibisshe, @florbelles, @ncytiri, @hibernationsuit, @stars-of-the-heart;

@vvanessaives, @katsigian, @radioactiveshitstorm, @estevnys, @adelaidedrubman;

@celticwoman, @rindemption, @carlosoliveiraa, @noirapocalypto, @dickytwister;

@killerspinal, @euryalex, @ri-a-rose, @velocitic, @thedeadthree

[necrotic-nephilim]

I love the new ask game :D

Maybe "You wouldn't." with Bruce/Jason?

send a quote and a ship and I'll write a short fic!

tysm anon, i'm glad you're loving it! i love that this got requested twice because it was such a fun one. warning that this one is *dark*, it deals with hypnotism/brainwashing and non-con as a result of that. it's *sort of* inspired by Gotham War but is based in pre-Flashpoint and basically my twist on a realistic but fucked up way i think Bruce would try to control Jason psychologically. just 3.3k of Jason suffering. enjoy <3

“Come home, Jason.”

It was a dream Jason had had a thousand times in a thousand ways. Bruce’s hand outstretched, offering Jason a white flag and compassion.

Only this time, it wasn’t a dream.

The cold ground underneath Jason’s palm was real. He could smell the dirt caked under his fingernails as he clenched his fist, panting hard.

He had a gun pointed at Bruce with his other hand. Jason was knocked to the ground, but he wasn’t down.

He was never down; a mutt going belly up. That’d never be him.

For some reason that Jason couldn’t put into words, the gun was shaking in his hand. He never had it in him to actually kill Bruce. But somehow now, his resolve felt more shattered than usual.

“Your home isn’t mine,” Jason said through grit teeth. He could taste his own blood in his mouth, but the fight was already muddled in his head. Was it one of the goons he was fighting or Bruce who’d hit him? He wasn’t sure.

Bruce loomed over Jason. It was a look he practically had patented. Cape billowing, shadow cast over Jason in such a way that Jason felt so impossibly small. He knew all the tricks and how Bruce pulled them off, but that didn’t mean he was immune to them. No matter how much Jason grew and made a name for himself, Bruce could always make him want to shrink into himself.

But he wouldn’t. He refused to hand that weakness over to Bruce.

“It always has been your home,” Bruce’s voice was far too gentle for his immovable stance and shadow-hidden face. Jason didn’t like the contrast. “Just for the night.” He took a step toward Jason, hand close enough for Jason to bat it away with his gun.

He knew this dance. Like a song that Jason had never actually heard, but still seemed to be woven into his soul. A long-forgotten melody as he descended into this hell. Bruce was reaching into Jason’s mind to pull out all of Jason’s worst nightmares about how he rolled over like a dog and gave in.

It made Jason’s lip curl in disgust, even as cold ice dripped down his spine.

“Go to hell,” Jason snarled. He didn’t sound how he wanted to. His voice was too high and it was like he was Robin again, pre-pubescent and looking at Bruce like he hung the moon. That moon was bleeding all over them, now. “I will shoot you if you don’t back off,” he warned. Not lethally, they both knew that unspoken caveat. But that didn’t mean Jason wasn’t acutely aware of every weak point of Bruce’s armor and very ready to give Bruce a new scar for his misplaced nostalgia-tainted love.

“No, you won’t,” Bruce said calmly. Not as an order, but as a simple fact.

Jason scoffed. “Like hell-”

Bruce whistled, a sharp and high note that made Jason’s brain nearly split in half.

And he-

He dropped his gun.

It tumbled out of his hand with his palm forced open. A muscle reaction that felt the same as a doctor knocking a hammer against Jason’s knee to make his leg kick out. So out of control that he just stared at his open, empty hand for a moment.

“What the fuck?” Jason spat out, blinking a few times. “Was that an EMP or something?” He hadn’t been looking at Bruce’s face. It sounded like a whistle, but Bruce could’ve activated some high-tech weapon through his gauntlet or-

Or something. Some sort of Bat-gadget that used a magnet to pull the gun out of Jason’s hand, or whatever other mcguffin Bruce had access to. That was the only logical answer that fit easily into Jason’s mind.

So why did it feel so wrong?

Why was Jason’s heart beating so fast?

He’d felt this fear before, in a dream.

Jason swallowed to keep his throat from closing up. He pushed himself to his feet and tried to grab a dagger from his belt.

He tried. And tried. It was right there, inches from his fingers twitching at his sides. Jason knew he was in control of his body. He could shift his weight and stretch his limbs and crack his neck.

But he couldn’t seem to grab a weapon.

Jason made a fist instead. He couldn’t raise it for the punch.

“You’re okay,” Bruce promised, trying to soothe the panic that was crawling up Jason’s throat. He reached up and stroked Jason’s face and Jason couldn’t seem to stop him. He wanted to pull away from the disgusting false kindness. But he fucking couldn’t. “We’re going home now.” Bruce’s tone was too calm, too even. Perfectly soothing and unbothered by Jason’s growing panic.

“No,” Jason choked out. He still had his words and could fight with them, at least. “What the fuck did you do, you bastard?”

Bruce’s expression changed but was impossible to get a full read on, hidden by the cowl. “What I had to. To keep you safe and bring you home.”

“I’m not yours,” Jason put as much force as he could into every word. All his hate, all his rage, dripped like a venom that was keeping him alive. He used his hatred to hide the fear that was swirling his thoughts, making them harder and harder to make sense of.

Something was wrong. All his worst nightmares of Jason just giving in and agreeing to go home with Bruce as an obedient little soldier were coming to life. Like sick prophecies he couldn’t escape.

Something was very wrong. Jason’s whole body was starting to shake and he instinctively reached for his chest, trying to find what was wrong. Something was lodged deep inside of him that didn’t belong. Something that Jason had to pull out before it took deeper root and he was- he was lost to some terrible unseen thing lurking in the corner of his mind. Whatever it was, Jason needed it out now before-

Bruce clicked his tongue. Jason was at least certain this time the sound came directly from Bruce, watching his mouth move to form the sharp clicking noise. Distinct and-

Familiar.

The fight or flight bled out of Jason’s limbs. His body calmed, even as his mind was still fighting the feeling. Muted and distant now, but still definitely there. Jason fumbled between the lines of a forced calm and natural panic. He didn’t know which one he wanted, which was the right one to be feeling.

The calm was entrancing. Hypnotizing, even. A siren trying to lull Jason under the waves so he would just sink into the current. The water was so warm and inviting, promising an existence where Jason wouldn’t have to feel so much pain all the time-

Hypnotizing.

It was hypnotizing.

Jason vaguely remembered Talia mentioning a hypnotism expert that Bruce once knew but she couldn’t convince Jason to train with them. He thought it sounded like a bunch of pseudoscience bullshit. Everyone knew hypnotism was a dumb Placebo.

Everyone it seemed, except Jason’s body. Which felt like it was trying to sink into the dirt under the weight of forced calm Bruce had wrapped around him.

“How-” Jason’s mouth was full of cotton. “Did you brainwash me, or something?”

“Conditioning,” Bruce corrected. How was he so casual about it? “It took months to make sure you wouldn’t notice. I did what I had to, to keep you safe from yourself.” He dared to run his fingers through Jason’s hair, pulling Jason’s pliant body forward until his forehead was pressed into Bruce’s shoulder. “This isn’t a punishment, Jason. I need you to understand, I didn’t do this to save Gotham. I did this to save you.”

He made the words sound like a love confession. They were the most terrifying words Jason had ever heard. They sounded more like a prison sentence Jason’s soul had been damned to then something sweet.

Jason managed to shake his head. His ears were ringing as he tried so hard to fight against the siren song. Bruce’s body was so warm. His words were barbed wire wrapped in a lullaby. They pierced Jason so deep he was sure he had to be bleeding everywhere. He could taste it, after all. Nothing made sense.

“You wouldn’t,” Jason whispered, almost delirious with how surreal it all felt. His tether to reality was cut cleanly by his puppeteer, razor-thin wires shackling him in place. A promise.

Bruce dared to press a kiss against Jason’s temple. “I already have.”

Jason went limp. Bruce caught him around the waist, easily picking him up to hold Jason gingerly.

Like a lover.

The nightmares of Bruce’s touch tasted so real.

Oh, fuck.

The nightmares.

“You’ve done this before,” Jason realized, tears of betrayal pricking in his eyes. The nightmares were real. They were distant, hypnotized memories he couldn’t quite reach in the back of his mind. Locked away until Bruce decided to unlock this conditioned, obedient side of Jason to play with. Using him like a toy.

Bruce was a psychotic bastard who always went too far.

But this. This was something new. An incomprehensible horror Jason could’ve never imagined Bruce doing. That was why they had to be nightmares, not memories. Bruce never would’ve done that to Jason. Jason never would’ve just laid there and taken it from Bruce. He wasn’t some lap dog for Bruce to domesticate.

He wasn’t.

This wasn’t real obedience. It was forced submission.

This wasn’t real at all. It couldn’t be.

This wasn’t Jason.

He wouldn’t have let this happen to himself.

He didn’t realize he was crying until Bruce was wiping the tears away. Daring to be fucking gentle, like he wasn’t perfectly aware of Jason’s inner turmoil eating him alive.

“Let’s go home,” Bruce said, adjusting Jason into a bridal carry and ignoring as Jason’s shallow breaths gave way to soft sobs.

The worst part was, Jason could feel himself slipping deeper into the corners of his mind. It was disturbingly easy to fall for the drowning nothingness that quieted all his rebelling emotions tearing him apart.

It was easy to give in to Bruce’s conditioning.

Before Jason knew it, he was tucked into the Batmobile, limbs completely immobile as they drove down familiar streets.

The anger melted away first.

Then the fear.

All those feelings left and Jason was just-

Empty.

He was going home.

Moments of clarity came to Jason in short, chaotic bursts. The first one came to him as Bruce was stripping him of his clothes, throwing them to the ground without a care in the world, desperate to consume Jason with hungry hands.

He could see Bruce’s face, now. It was all Jason could see.

Those awful, wanting eyes. Looking at Jason like he was just another toy of Bruce’s.

“What…” Jason’s words were slurred and barely fit in his mouth. “Stop- Bruce, stop-”

“Shh,” Bruce pressed his mouth against Jason’s and Jason was sinking again, unable to stop his body from reacting and kissing back. “I’ve got you.” The words were already so far away Jason barely heard them, even pressed against his mouth.

Bruce tasted like peppermint and sweet compliance.

The second clear moment was the longest one.

It came to Jason with a gasp, chest heaving for air as if something had been choking him.

He wasn’t being choked, though.

He was being fucked.

The gasp turned into a startled moan when a long thrust drove right into Jason’s prostate, his entire body jerking. Jason’s arms were wrapped around Bruce’s back, clinging to him like some kind of needy animal as Bruce drove into Jason’s body. A mutt with his belly up, compliant, like he was afraid of.

“Stop fighting it,” Bruce murmured into Jason’s ear, immediately knowing that Jason was lucid.

How could Jason stop fighting when he didn’t know he was fighting in the first place? He wasn’t in control of the mess in his head pulling him in too many directions.

He was so wrought out that all he could do was cry, anguished.

Jason wanted to push Bruce off of him. He didn’t want this pleasure. Jason’s arms moved sluggishly, but at least seemed to obey him, pushing weakly at Bruce’s shoulder.

“No, no no no,” Jason chanted the only thing he could get out. A mantra, a plea, and a prayer all in one. Every thrust rattled his bones with new, yet familiar feelings that were too real.

The parts of Jason’s body not under his control bloomed under Bruce’s touch. His back was arching and he was grinding onto Bruce’s cock. It made no sense, how he tried to claw at Bruce’s skin while chasing more and more of Bruce deep inside him.

It was where Bruce belonged, an insidious voice whispered in Jason’s ear. Where Jason belonged, too.

No, Jason fought back in his own mind.

God please, no.

Bruce just kept moving and fucking Jason. As if it wasn’t rape.

It was rape, wasn’t it? Jason’s consent wasn’t real. Bruce had made it up.

All of this was made up. Jason would never let Bruce do this to him.

“You’re beautiful,” Bruce soothed, pressing flowering kisses down Jason’s throat. Jason tried to turn his head away but he had nowhere to go, trapped underneath Bruce.

“No,” Jason repeated. He hit Bruce in the chest when a particular thrust made Jason’s own cock twitch and a moan rolled through his body.

Jason was hard. There was already precum dripping out of him.

Would he come like this? Did he have words, when he was completely under? In some of Jason’s nightmare-memories, he could remember begging Bruce for more. More touch, more pleasure, more orgasms.

That was what Bruce had reduced Jason to. A wanton whore who didn’t even have control of his own body. Jason violently shook his head, trying to wiggle more control into his limbs. He managed to just barely kick Bruce’s leg. Not hard, but enough to make Bruce stumble, catching himself with a hand against the mattress. A hand that wasn’t touching Jason anymore, making him sigh in relief. He could keep this momentum.

He just had to hold onto the control-

“I love you,” Bruce said, voice silky and going down Jason’s psyche like smooth whiskey. The burning aftertaste was there, trying to start a fire strong enough for Jason to fight back with, but Jason just swallowed.

Those words were the needed trigger to push Jason back down. And worse, this time it wasn't a gentle descent. He felt like he was being smothered by a pillow inside his own head. Jason was pretty sure he actually screamed before his body was taken from him.

Jason only managed to give Bruce a parting glare.

Lucidity came for Jason again with water raining down on his body. Hot enough to steam up the space, making Jason’s muscles sag.

He was in a shower. Leaning against Bruce. Practically clinging to him like a fucking child.

He could feel the soreness in a deep, disgusting place Jason never wanted to know Bruce could reach. Two gentle hands were massaging shampoo into Jason’s hair. The scent that Bruce used, not Jason.

Even when all this was over, Jason still wouldn’t be able to get Bruce’s scent off his skin.

Bruce had to be doing it on purpose.

“I hate you,” Jason spat the words out as fast as he could. He knew he was going to slip away again.

He knew there was nothing he could do to stop it. Acceptance was an ugly pill Jason hated swallowing with every fiber of his being.

He had never hated himself more.

Hating Bruce was an easy second nature. But this level of self-hatred was new, even for Jason.

He was so tired of feeling it. Of feeling at all.

Bruce didn’t use words this time. Jason’s ugly confession wasn’t acknowledged. Warm fingers just pressed into a specific spot against the back of Jason’s neck and he was boneless again.

Jason’s last thought was wondering just how many triggers Bruce had programmed into him.

He probably didn’t want to know.

Jason’s final moment of awareness came in Bruce’s arms. He was pressed against Bruce’s chest, finding himself tracing idle patterns across Bruce’s skin while Bruce was reading something on his tablet.

There was cold, bitter anger freezing Jason’s chest over.

But mostly, there was numbness.

Emptiness.

Jason didn’t say anything this time. He didn’t see the point when his words meant nothing to Bruce. He just glared into nothing, hand going completely rigid, then curling into a useless fist.

He didn’t want to know how many times he had been here before.

Bruce leaned down and kissed Jason’s brow. Jason wrinkled his nose but gave no other reaction. He kept his body perfectly still, even with it in his control.

“Do you want to remember?” Bruce asked.

Confusion clouded Jason’s muddy senses. “What?”

Bruce brushed stray hair out of Jason’s eyes and tilted his chin up, forcing him to look into Bruce’s lovingly unforgiving eyes. “Do you want to remember this time? You don’t have to remember if you’re not ready.”

Not ready. Jason didn’t like how those two words were heavy and had so many implications that they turned his stomach.

“No,” Jason couldn’t stop himself from telling the truth. Bruce had asked if he wanted to remember.

And Jason didn’t want this. He needed to remember. But more than anything, he didn’t want to remember this. It made his skin crawl.

He wanted this to be a bad dream.

The logic side of Jason’s brain was screaming and begging to remember this. If Jason knew this was real when he was away from Bruce, then he could get far, far away. He could run.

He could go anywhere.

Bruce hummed and nodded. With understanding Jason could feel down to his core, an awful thing.

He’d done this before, after all. The routine was down pat, for Bruce.

And for Jason, it was a new horror that he was going to learn over and over again.

Maybe Bruce got some kind of sick enjoyment out of this wretched cycle. Jason knew Bruce’s end goal, even if he wouldn’t admit it to himself.

He couldn’t. Admitting it made it real.

And this wasn’t real.

It couldn’t be.

Instead of slipping under the edge of conditioning, Jason just slipped into sleep. His body relaxed and Bruce pulled a blanket around him, tucking him in and murmuring something Jason didn’t quite catch.

Jason drifted into a dreamless sleep.

With a swear and a jolt, Jason woke up. His heart was pounding and he grabbed his chest, breathing hard. He sat up, swinging his legs over his shitty bed in his shitty warehouse.

“Fucking nightmares,” Jason grumbled, getting his body to calm down. The nightmare was already slipping away. It was something so ridiculous that he didn’t bother chasing it. Something about Bruce touching him and Jason just letting him.

A snort came out of Jason’s chest at the thought. He stood up, shaking himself free of stupid night terrors.

Jason rolled his eyes and wandered over toward his fridge, mind already drifting to think about the case he was working on, looking over the board on his wall to give his attention to something that actually deserved it.

Like he’d ever let Bruce get close to him, Jason wasn’t just some mutt belly-up starved for attention.

Over his dead body.

[sillyfudgemonkeys]

Still wild to me that the Avatar team saw a guy write a love story between a stick and a monkey and were like "This is the guy who we need to write Rangshi and Yangvik" and then he ended up making two of the best couples in all of the Avatar-verse TT0TT

[aliferousdreamer]

so i've been rewatching season 4 of the next step for the first time in years and hoooo boy do i have a lot to say t