#Character death

[sting-raes]

Saplings.

I read this fic where a widowed Elliott finds a secret orchard of pomegranate trees planted for him by the farmer and I CANNOT for the life of me remember who wrote it but, it served as inspiration for this piece :')

also yeah ik im far behind sdjvdskhf I'm gonna be catching up!! Just wanted to get this out of the way first!!

stardew inktober prompt list under the cut as always!

[alikesical]

Forever Yours.

❛There's no love lost, but I'll be forever yours❜

Jason Todd x reader

trigger warnings: angst, character death

word count: 2564

Jason didn't know how to exist anymore...

Everything around him was wrong. All that he did, felt mechanical, like a mere muscle memory.

He woke up. He went to the repair shop. He'd go home. He'd lie still on his bed until his body gave away to exhaustion.

He was alone, even when in company, and God knows he had company. Dick and Tim, sometimes even Damian, would drop by and force him out of his room, even for a little while. Trying to take his mind off of you.

It never worked.

Why would it? How could he ever take his mind off of you when you were the one good, beautiful thing in his life. He didn't deserve you. He knew that much, but that never kept him from being selfish. From barging into your life.

"Please tell me you can fix it!" you pleaded with him the moment he got out of the repair truck, tears threatening to escape from your eyes.

Jason chuckled at your panic. Cute, he thought, as he walked towards you car, that had definitely seen better days, "I don't know what's wrong yet," he says and you simply nod, cursing yourself for asking stupid questions.

You struggled to stay quiet as he looked over your engine, not wanting to break his concentration.

"Well-" he opens his mouth to speak, but you're quick to interrupt him before he could even get a word out.

"It's bad isn't it?" you groan, pacing around, hands flailing around, "I dont understand how this could have happened! I haven't missed a single maintenance appointment, I swear! Please, you have to do something, I'll do anything! I really need the car-"

"I was about to say that its an easy fix," he chuckled cutting your rambling short, "But since you already offered to do anything, what about a date?"

You had a lot of these fights in the beginning. While trying to keep you at an arms length, Jason had not treated you the way he was supposed to, often being cold and rude. He thought he kept you safe that way, that you'd see him for who he really was and run for the hills.

He smiles to himself, remembering how flustered you got before agreeing with a shy smile.

Little did he know, you were anything but shy, never afraid to go head to head with him and demand to be treated right, even if he towered over you.

And you did see him. Only you actually did, not the twisted version he had in his mind, but who he was down to his core. You saw how scared he was, how much he needed to be loved. And that's exactly what you did, after sitting him down and ripping him a new one, for acting like a dick.

Jason shakes his head, as he approaches your door. He should not be doing that.

You were gone, he shouldn't be reminiscing, it just hurted him more.

But he can't help it.

Those memories are what remain of you in his mind, he couldn't help but recall them, searching for even a flicker of comfort in them. But that was never the case.

Instead he was reminded about how he'd never see you smile at him like that again, and his already broken heart, would get smash into smithereens all over again.

He didn't know how for long he was standing outside your door, not daring to step in. Afraid of what it would do to him.

He knew it was unhealthy, coming here day after day, but never entering. He should go in and gather your stuff, empty the apartment for someone alive to move in.

So he kept paying your bills three months later, keeping the apartment frozen in time.

But he couldn't bring himself to.

It felt like trying to erase you, move on. Jason didn't want to move on.

He feels his chest tighten at the familiar sight of your living room.

Babs told him that he should go in, at least try to get some closure.

He knows she's right, she usually is. So he takes in a shaky breath, trying to steady his hand as he unlocked the door.

"Jason?" you called as you stepped out your room, trying to put on your earrings, "Why are you not dressed yet?" he heard the click of your heals moving closer to the couch he sat on.

His head immediately turned towards the sound of your voice wanting to answer you, but found him self unable to.

You stood before him looking like a vision in your white dress, hair neatly pulled back. The sun was hitting your face, as you moved towards him, and he could swear heaven was real, because where else could someone like you come from?

You were the first light, to ever grace this world, and he was selfish to keep you away, to call you his. But he couldn't help but keep you close, hold on to your light.

"Jason?" you call again, now standing in front of him, a hand resting on his shoulder. You had this soft expression painted on your face, the same one you always had when you looked at him, the one that made him feel like he was worth something.

He smiles, bringing his hand over yours delicately, as if you'd break if he added any more force, "You are beautiful," he says and curses at himself for not being able to come up with something better. All these romance novels he read going to waste at the sight of you.

"I'm sorry, but an urgent mission came up," his heart breaks at how your smile falls, hating that he was the cause, "I'm really sorry sweetheart."

You chuckle at him, and he could get drunk on the sound, "Thank you love," you go and sit on his lap, throwing your arms around his neck, placing a soft kiss on his lips, palm caressing his cheek.

Cherries. You always wear the same cherry flavoured lipgloss.

After a moment you pull back, tilting your head as you looked at him, "I'd say you clean up well, but you're still in your T-Shirt?" you question, and he lets out a sigh.

You sigh deeply as you stand up, leaving him cold in your absence, "You better make it up to me!" you say pointedly, "This is the third time you had to cancel plans."

He knows. He knows all the times he messed up, even if you don't.

This, however, was not one of them.

He had this whole plan. He'd tell you the Bat called, you'd go out with your sister to have a nice dinner, and then she was gonna ask you to take a walk at the park, where he'd meet you both, under strings of fairy lights.

Jason was excited to get rid of the weight the little box added to his jacket, and sincerely hoped you'd get to bear it on your finger.

But for now he had to appease you.

"I know, I will," he follows your example, tailing you as you head towards the door, to grab your coat, "Give your sister my greetings" he says, holding it up, helping you slide into it.

"I will," you peck his cheek before opening the door, "Love you!"

"Love you, be careful," he calls out, watching your form descend down the hallway.

You turn around and smile at him, "I always am."

You never made it to the park.

There was an attack on the building you were dining on. By the time he got the news, you were lying open on a surgical table.

And by the time the surgery was over, you were gone, and he was left alone, the box in his pocket suddenly weighting a million tons.

He was too late...

He remembers everything about that that day.

He remembers he smell of the hospital, the face of the surgeon when she told him that she's sorry and that you aren't coming back. How the nurse called Bruce to come pick him up, after he spent 2 hours staring at the wall. Bruce's usually stoic face, looking down at him with pity.

He does however remember clearly how he got out of his bed and sneaked out of the manor, determined to avenge your death...

How he couldn't stop crying the whole night, the pain that seeped through his bones without any signs of stopping when he thought of what happened.

The following days however had formed into a mush, and he didn't know when one began and the other ended.

Dick told him that he didn't speak to anyone for days, locking himself in his room. He told him that he could hear him scream your name in the dead of the night.

He couldn't recall that. Or atleast he didn't want to.

He remembers stalking the Iceberg Lounge, waiting for Penguin to come out. He remembers his brother appearing out of thin air, reminding him that you wouldn't want him to go down this path.

He exhales as moves around the house, forcing the memories out of his mind, staring at the framed pictures you had. Some with your friends, some with your family, some with him.

He remembers crying on Dicks shoulder, not able to take it anymore.

He couldn't look at them, you couldn't bear the memories.

Still, his feet seemed to come to a halt where he knew a particular picture hang. He looks at it, trying to hold the tears in desperately.

It was a polaroid picture of him lying on your bed shirtless. He thought it was the ugliest photograph you've ever taken, but still picks it up.

"Why would you even want to take a picture of me?" he asked you not really understanding.

He was ugly. He knew that. All the scars on his body only proved it further. He can't understand why you would waste perfectly good film on him.

"Shush," you motion over him, legs straddling his waist, "Stay still!" you command but he still reaches up to grab the camera, just to be met by your hand pushing him down.

He knew that, practically, he could easily escape this predicament, but something about the position you were both in and your gaze left him unable too.

It was dangerous how much of an effect you had on him.

"Must there be a reason?" you ask, trying to get a good angle, "Can't I just take a picture of my very handsome, very hot boyfriend?" he sees you smirking behind the camera.

He remembers how fast the heat crept up his face, and how he immediately turned his head away from you trying to hide it. That was then you snapped it.

He hated that you had proof of him being flustered, but you always claimed it to be your favourite photograph of him.

He didn't understand still. But he trusted your words.

He quickly puts it back to its place, not wanting to disturb the house. Wanting it to be exactly as you left it. Even though coasters were scattered on the living room table, and the plates you had used to eat lunch, still on the drying rack. Even though the toothpaste didn't have its cup on, and the shampoo you always used was left open.

This way you were still alive. Still living in this house. Still in his life.

A single tear fell on Jason's cheek, and he made no motion to wipe it. You had made him promise, that as long as he was in here, he wouldn't have to hide behind a mask, he wouldn't have to be Red Hood, the tough vigilante, just Jason Todd, your boyfriend.

It feel like he'd been going back on his promise if he wiped it away. So he left the tear dry and headed towards your bedroom.

The moment he stepped in he could immediately smell the perfume you had chosen to wear that day. He didn't know how, but it still seemed to linger. Or maybe that was just his mind playing tricks on him.

Not daring to look around, already feeling his throat tighten up, he made a beeline for your bed, immediately letting himself fall down, engulfed by the familiar scent of your bedsheets.

He could hear you scold him for being on the bed with outside clothes on.

"That's disgusting!" you exclaim as he let a sigh of relief when his back hit the mattress, immediately closing his eyes "You'll get grease on the sheets!" you stood in front of him hands on your hips, glaring down at him

He cracks one eye open ,"Ill just change the sheets then" he mumbles, but you had different plans for him.

"Or maybe... go change," you say grabbing his wrist, with every intention to drag him in to the shower and out of your bed.

But he suddenly tugs his arm back, and with a yelp, you go tumbling down on top of him.

"But I'm so comfortable," he sighs, wrapping his arms around you like a blanket, pressing his face into your shoulder with a dramatic groan.

You struggled, trying to get out of his embrace, but he only held you tighter, "It's not funny!" you whined, "Let me go, you're literally covered in sweat and garage funk."

"No can't do, you're a hostage now."

You struggle, trying to wiggle free, but he only tightens his grip with a smirk.

"Resistance is futile," he murmurs.

"I hate you so much," you mumble giving up, knowing this is a war lost.

"I'll love you more," he says, a grin creeping up his face, at the feeling of you smiling against his shirt.

A small sob broke though his lips as a laugh at the memory.

But the one became many, and the sobs became wails as he laid on the bed, facing the ceiling. He couldn't breathe properly, hyperventilating, but still did nothing to stop it, to calm himself.

He just laid there. Crying, remembering all the promises he made to you under the same covers he was staining with his tears, all the dreams he had for you both.

How you would get married in a beautiful chapel, and he'd cry when you'd walk down the isle. How you'd move out to the country, away from Gotham. Away from villains and vigilantes, away from danger. How you'd have kids, and they'd have his eyes and your smile, how you'd make sure they knew they were loved. How you'd invite your families over once a month, and you'd have this huge meal, filled with laughter. How he'd help you clean after, but you would end up getting nothing done, preferring to dance to no music as your kids giggled in the background thinking you couldn't hear them.

How you'd grow old together.

How he'd go first because he couldn't imagine living without you.

But none of that would happen. He was alive, and he had to learn how to live without you. He had to learn how to move on.

You would have wanted that for him. You would have wanted him to be happy, to find someone else. To live his life.

But he couldn't, not when you were not by his side, not when he knew you lied six feet under, in a flower decorated grave.

Everything around him reminded him of you. Of your smile and your laugh, how you'd hold him when the nightmares appeared, how you promised to always be there.

You haunted him, and he didn't want you to stop. He didn't want to recover...

So he just cried until all his tears dried up, and he laid on your bed closing his eyes, pretending he cpuld feel your warmth next to him, until exhaustion took him into it's sweet embrace.

At least that way he'd be able to see you smile at him again. He could feel the weight of your head on his chest, and the caress of your fingers against his scars. Hear your voice telling him you loved him, even if for the last time...

[spinchip]

Would it have even mattered if they asked what it was like?

I redrew it I did it yaaaay

(I still have a fondness for the original- done FOUR years ago!- but I hope I’ve done it justice with this new iteration!)

The words are an excerpt from the poem Jessica gives me a chill pill by Angie Sijun Lou

[deadlyangelofpurity]

The Last Lullaby, full version.

My skin tone markers came in earlier so I finished this up. This is the tragic but realistic outcome if Iroh fought Ozai and won because uh...yeah he'd have to kill him immediately afterwards...

[tossawary]

One of the things that I really enjoyed about the "Epic of Gilgamesh" is that Gilgamesh is a shitty person. Like, he's a king and two-thirds divine and all that, a warrior among warriors, his experiences could not be more different from the average person, and yet none of that saves him. I think the messages about grief and mortality hit as hard as they do because he's so selfish and privileged and awful at the beginning, before being irreversibly changed by friendship and love and loss and regret. He has all of this classical "greatness" and that does not spare him. He has been changed and chooses to change, and there's no miraculous reward for that. None of the widespread pain he's caused and is still capable of causing his subjects spares him either. There's something striking in seeing this greedy, cruel, mythologically "heroic" figure be so deeply humbled by a universal tragedy; to see him essentially crying out, "Not even me?" and receiving the firm answer of, "No, not even you."

[frosted-co0kies]

been really into tsp lately (for the third time). i think they would be friends

(also full unobscured narrator text is in alt)

[themightyhumanbroom]

It's always risky killing off a character but if you have to, you must have them HAUNT the narrative. Let their death and absence be constantly felt at some level.

[firedragon1321]

[mothofmyth]

Wayne Munson living on the breadline. Wayne Munson who can't afford rent on his home AND a kid, so he moves to the trailer park and gives Eddie the bedroom. Wayne Munson picking up every shift he can to put food in his kid's belly and a roof over his kid's head. Wayne Munson who's back hurts from sleeping on the couch and doing manual labour for 12 hours a day. Wayne Munson who wouldn't change a thing, even when Eddie doesn't graduate, and then doesn't graduate again. Wayne Munson who became a very rich man after Eddie died. Wayne Munson who still sleeps on the couch in a run down trailer, while the bed lies cold and empty.

Wayne Munson who swore he would give the rest of his life to his kid the day he became his. Wayne Munson who didn't go back on that promise even after his kid died. Wayne Munson who has a bed ready and waiting when his kid comes back from the dead. Wayne Munson who readily accepts any and all changes his kid came back with. Wayne Munson who cries and holds his kid tighter than anything when he returns. Wayne Munson who quits his job on the spot to cook a warm meal for his kid and his new boyfriend when he hesitantly introduces them to each other.

Wayne Munson who lives a long and happy life, and finally passes away surrounded by family. Wayne Munson who gets the happily ever after and the ending he deserves.

[cricket-mound]

please don’t take him away. please don’t.

alt title is pls don’t separate them <33 they (me) cannot handle it </33

[art-alien]

The Embrace Of A Friend

Was it A Promise? (The "first part" of this concept) | My main: @alien-shmalien

Composition, Lines, Background coloring and Detail by Me, and Melanie/Folly colors by @the-mossy-green-witch (ty for helping me <3)

This was like 3 days of nonstop work, and Originally it was only supposed to be 2 pages, and suddenly it was 4 and fully colored, so! Enjoy <3 I look forward to hearing your thoughts

[rin-may-1103]

The Disappointment.

This may or may not have multiple parts, depending on whether I feel like writing more. (dcxdp, demon twin au.) also based on some post I read a while ago... can't remember for the life of me who wrote it but if any of you guys do, let me know.

"This way," Mother hissed, snatching Danny's wrist tightly. Damian lagged behind, twisting his head this way and that, keeping an eye out for anyone following them.

"Quick now, we must hurry." She hissed again, her eyes darting back and forth, eyeing the small nicks and scratches she had left previously to lead them away.

Danny glanced back at his brother, watching as he scowled and defiantly lifted his head. His baby brother would die before he allowed anyone to see him defeated.

Glancing back to the path, Danny watched as Mother took down anyone who was in their way, killing without hesitation. As he watched another body hit the floor, Grandfather's muttered words from when he left dinner, ran through the back of his head, "Bring the disappointment to me after sundown. I've seen enough."

There was nowhere in the world they could hide that Grandfather wouldn't follow. They would be hunted for the rest of their short lives, hiding in fear like cowards. Grandfather would not rest until he drew blood.

"In here, Habibi, quiet now. Quickly, both of you." Mother finally let Danny's wrist go, darting across the hall to open the secret door. Danny moved to the side, signaling to Damian that he would keep watch. His brother nodded his head and quickly made his way over, ducking into the small, dark, and eerie corridor.

Mother crouched next to Damian, running her hands over his face like this would be the last time she would see it. knowing her, she probably expected it to be. No one went against their grandfather without severe consequences.

Glancing over his shoulder, Danny studied the shadows; there was a lookout patrol moving closer, which meant they only had a minute before they were discovered. Gritting his teeth, Danny darted across the hall, but instead of joining his mother and brother in the dark corridor, he pushed the wall back, leaving only the missing brick his mother had initially taken out.

"Danyal!" his mother hissed, her voice full of stern panic.

"Apologies Mother, but I can not let you do this," Danny replied, glancing to the side to see how much time he had left. Forty seconds. Crouching down, he picked up the brick and looked back at his mother. Damian stood next to her, his brows furrowed in confusion. Obviously, he hadn't figured out Danny's plan, otherwise he would have started shouting at him.

Mother stared at him for a second, her stern eyes wavering for the first time in Danny's life that he could remember. "Take care of him for me, keep him safe when I can not," Danny asked, grabbing the hood hanging around the back of his neck.

Mother's eyes teared up, but she straightened her back, her black hair framing her pretty face. "You've made up your mind then," she said, her voice low and steady. She rested her hand on Damian's shoulder, giving Danny a nod of understanding. "You are like your father, his love makes him weak."

"But," she continued, kneeling down in a bow, "You are of the demon's blood, it runs in your veins just like mine. Your actions will not be forgotten, nor will they be for nothing. You have my word, tifl alqamar. I love you, Habibi."

Danny nodded his head, unable to voice the thoughts clogging his throat. Instead, he took a silent breath, pulled his hood and mask into place, and shoved the final brick into place. Sealing off his precious family just in time to hear the guards around the corner.

Turning around, Danny silently stalked forward, drawing his shoulders back. The group rounded the corner and stopped, watching him in anticipation. Pitching his voice just slightly to the left and rolling his tongue, Danny spoke in a neutral voice, "take me to grandfather."

The two guards in front shared a look, but the ones in the back straightened up and moved aside. Marching forward, Danny passed the two hesitating guards and with a quick slice, brought them to their knees. He needed this to work, there was no room for mercy, no matter how much he hated it.

"I am the grandson of the demon head, you will respect me as you respect him. there will be no next time." Danny continued walking, pretending to not care if the two managed to follow or not. the remaining guards trailed behind him, silently observing him.

Danny was glad Mother had insisted on them matching today. otherwise, his plan would have failed long before he made it to his grandfather's door.

Stopping in front of the painted carved wood that was grandfather's door, Danny idly studied the carvings and statues around the grand hall. He remembered all the stories of how grandfather had collected them over his lifetime; grand stories of bloodshed and cunning manipulation.

His eyes settled on the one farthest away, with the least interesting story. It was considered ordinary, placed next to art worth billions. But it was Danny's favorite. It was a simple green crystal, carved like a crescent moon.

so simple, yet the most beautiful piece in Danny's opinion. He had always hoped he would die beneath the stars and his ever-faithful friend the moon. Maybe, instead of beneath them, he could die amongst them.

He would take it with him, he decided.

Turning sharply, Danny marched over to the small pedistal and plucked the crystal into his hand. Wrapping his fingers around it, he shoved it into a side pocket and returned back to his position.

They only had to wait for another minute before the door opened, grandfather's servants clearing a path for Danny to walk through.

"I see your mother did not drag you away," Grandfather mused, sitting in his large chair. His dark eyes studied Danny's form, taking in the katana on his back, and the hood and mask concealing his face. He was dressed like he would for a mission; no discernable features, no sign of who he was or wasn't. The perfect image of an assassin.

"at least you aren't a coward," Grandfather hummed, standing from his seat. He slowly pulled out his own katana, aiming it at Danny in a challenge. "no, just disappointing. but you are my blood and that earns you the right to die an honorable death. Draw your sword child, and fight like the warrior you are."

Danny bowed like he had been taught, then without another moment of hesitation, drew his sword and lunged.

He wished he could say it was a drawn-out battle of strength and minds, but it was not. for Danny was only ten years old, and his grandfather had hundreds of years of training and discipline behind him.

he gazed up at his grandfather as his knees hit the ground, his katana dropping to the ground as his hand reached up to the sword impaling his chest. Grandfather's eyes were filled with nothing but contempt, contempt for the useless boy he had just sentenced to death.

but his contempt did not bother Danny, no instead it drew a smile to his face. As much as Grandfather lorded his sharp mind over them, he had never been able to stop Danny from surprising him. So, with a burst of adrenaline, Danny allowed the small shuriken he hid in his sleeve to drop to his left hand and buried it deep into his grandfather's chest.

grandfather lunged back, pulling his katana with him, removing the only thing keeping Danny upright. Danny's body hit the ground, and with the last of his strength, he twisted his head so he could listen as his grandfather cried out in anger.

Grandfather's breath was heavy, the sound of him removing the dagger filling the silence. the shuriken was dropped to the ground with a sharp clatter, falling just a few feet from Danny's face.

"you," Grandfather huffed, "aren't such a disappointment after all. I'll grant you one last honor and keep you in the family tomb. Rest now, Damian, you have fought well."

Danny smiled, the cold feeling of blood loss crawling through his body, but not fast enough to block out the pressure of the moon crystal still in his pocket. He hoped Mother had gotten Damian out in time, and he hoped Damian could forgive him for what he had done.

[tossawary]

The fun thing about Luo Binghe potentially NOT being pushed into the Endless Abyss at the Immortal Alliance Conference, imo, is that he's still a forcibly outed heavenly demon stuck in the middle of the cultivation world after a deadly invasion. There are so many different fun ways to play it.

So, Shen Yuan groggily wakes up and the first thing he sees is that traitorous asshole Shang Qinghua's relieved face and disheveled appearance. Ugh. And then first thing that the An Ding Peak Lord says is: "Wow, and I thought the System hated my ass. It had it OUT for you, bro."

What the fuck.

At which point, Shen Yuan sits bolt upright because what the hell happened? The last thing he remembers is not moving, the weight of the sword in his hand, the thunder of his heart in his ears, not being able to go through with it, hoping against all reason that this was all some sort of sick test and that the System wouldn't really-

"Where's Binghe?" Shen Yuan demands.

Shang Qinghua winces. "About that..."

And Shen Yuan's heart falls because Binghe ended up in the Endless Abyss anyway, obviously. There were apparently two transmigrators all along and neither of them could truly change the story.

"He got arrested for your murder and the invasion of the conference," Shang Qinghua says, scratching the back of his neck. "It was ugly. So ugly. I probably would have died if Liu Qingge hadn't shown up to put him down. The Palace Master is saying that this is obviously revenge for Tianlang-Jun's sealing and Yue Qingyuan has pretty much stopped talking-"

"What."

"Oh, you were super dead, bro, and the protagonist freaked the fuck out. I was there, so he started yelling about why I hadn't done something, irrational with grief and all that, it was pretty scary."

And Shen Yuan can see how a surprise heavenly demon kid would get blamed for his shizun's death and the invasion of the conference. There's nothing that any drama likes better than an innocent person somehow caught red-handed in the middle of an inexplicable disaster.

"Wait, the invasion IS your fault!" Shen Yuan says, pointing an accusatory finger. He feels like shit still, but his righteous, trembling anger is going mostly in the right direction. "Why didn't you speak up-?"

"What, and I was going to admit to that in front of all of those peak lords and sect leaders? Get off my dick, bro."

"I meant blame Mobei-Jun!"

"Oh, yeah. They'd made up their minds, though! And shit got really violent really quickly! Liu Qingge is still itching to kill someone here, you know. Ask yourself why you're not still dead first, huh?"

That's an annoyingly good question. And Shang Qinghua annoyingly answers himself without waiting for an input.

"You're so fucking lucky that I've been here for like forty years now and I have so many useless points. Enough to pay off YOUR debt! They can be transferred, apparently? Be grateful! Anyway, I don't want the vengeful protagonist thinking that I hold any blame whatsoever in you fainting to death there, even if he is locked up in the Water Prison right now, so don't say I did nothing for you, got it?"

"...He's WHERE?!"

"Water Prison. He's going to be put on bullshit trial for the Immortal Alliance Conference and also for existing as a heavenly demon. Keep up, bro. Also," Shang Qinghua says with an urgent look over his shoulder, "you have to back me up when I try to explain to Mu Qingfang and Huang Qingheng that you were only mostly dead, they must have missed something, and I was just hanging around paying my respects when you miraculously recovered. I don't know anything! Ready to go?"

"No."

"Well, that fucking sucks for you. Let's go!"

[kathaynesart]

LAST TIME ON REPLICA!

While the first UPDATE of the new arc went up just a few weeks ago, we'll now be jumping back into the thick of the main storyline so figured a little refresh was in order! I'll be posting the next update probably tomorrow, so here's a quick rundown on all the important points before we dive right back into it (TW: blood and character death mention):

In the previous arcs we see recordings of Donnie's final hours infiltrating the Technodrome. He is forced to cut off Leo's arm to save him from becoming infested by the Krang (and more importantly to keep the bomb planted in his head from going off, a safeguard so his memories can't be read by the Krang).

While the others escape Donnie stays behind against Leo's orders and manages to plant two pieces of purple-looking krang tech within the Technodrome. One appears to a probe which allow Shelldon to tap into the Krang mainframe and secretly spy on them. The other... we don't know. Captured and confronted by Krang Prime, Donnie choses to trigger the bomb in his own head so that his knowledge cannot be used by the Krang.

Omega decides to reveal what he can to April, explaining that the two pieces are part of a secret plan of Donnie's known as "Project Shield and Spear." Both are pieces of new hybrid krang tech he created using krang matter and Draxum's bioengineering. "Shield" is the probe they all knew about, but what "Spear" does he refuses to say. Whatever it is, he says it will only act as a last resort should the Krang win the war and will guarantee that they never attack another planet... and Omega is the only one who can pull the trigger.

Elsewhere, while Mikey had managed to awaken some of his old power within him, it feels like his Ninpo is not back to normal. He can do things he couldn't do before, like healing magic, but it all makes him very tired. Draxum explains that it's likely because he hasn't completely unlocked his ninpo and is using up his life force instead. Mikey decides to attempt to unlock his ninpo by using the powers he currently has.

He nearly achieves this but comes across another being that also seems to be reaching for the ninpo. Instead he chases after the voices he hears which sounds like Donnie's and is exposed to flashes of the new timeline created in the movie.

Back in the real world, it's not looking good as Mikey suddenly bursts with a rush of intense energy. He loses consciousness but gains a painful new hairdo.

While this is happening, Omega accidentally comes upon the coordinates where it seems Raph's body might have fallen in the Central Park Colony ruins. We end the arc with two familiar looking agents being sent out into the field to find and retrieve him...

And that's it! A lot of other things happened in Arc 4 and 5, but these are the major talking points you'll need to keep in mind! Hope that helps, I should probably have it up by tomorrow!

[livinghalfway]

Younger Years Pt. 5

Masterlist

Summary: Damian gets temp de-aged to 6yrs old; cue him asking where his twin is. This is how everyone finds out about Danny's existence. Word Count: 2330

The two boys walk shoulder to shoulder with completely silent steps as they follow their Grandfather down the long empty corridor. While doing so Damian takes a chance to steal a glance at his brother beside him. He knows Danyal and Grandfather's relationship is unsteady at times what with his brother always asking questions. It is something that even he has had to scold Danyal for; to not question what Grandfather is telling them to do. 

When Damian looks he sees that while Danyal does have a deceivingly blank face. His eyes though tell a different tale; his brother has never been able to hide how expressive his eyes are. They are filled with questions and wary. Damian is tempted to reach out, and try to subtly remind him to not be so outspoken in Grandfather’s presence. He knows that would only cause more trouble for Danyal if he was caught doing so.

So instead he directs his attention forward once more, and hopes that Danyal won’t cause too much trouble with whatever lesson Grandfather has planned. 

Soon enough though the three of them are arriving at an all too familiar doorway. One that would lead them straight to the Lazarus pits. This must be an important lesson indeed then for the older man to want to bring them here. It is not a place he usually likes to let them enter; he says it is somewhere the two of them must earn the privilege of being. 

Upon entering the first thing Damian felt was the heat. The air was hot and almost suffocating the closer to the pits they got. The pits themselves glowed a toxic green, and looked as if it was boiling as the water bubbled all around. 

It isn’t until Grandfather is standing in front of the pit that he finally turns to address the two of them, and gestures to the pit behind him. “This boys, is an al Ghul's birthright. Danyal, what is the definition of a birthright?” 

It’s an odd question for Grandfather to ask, and Danyal must feel the same based on the way his brows furrowed in momentary confusion. “A birthright is a particular right of possession or privilege one has from birth.” 

“Yes, exactly. What you left out though is that birthrights are especially directed towards the first born.” Grandfather’s voice is steady and slow as he speaks each word. 

Damian and Danyal immediately meet each other’s eyes as they take in Grandfather’s words. The undertone meaning of his words could be taken many different ways after all, and as much as it annoys Damian to admit he’s the younger twin. 

“The funny thing about that though is that even birthrights can be easily taken,” he continues on with his gaze shifting sharply between the two of them. “All it takes is one failure, and everything you’ve ever had is suddenly gone. That’s why it’s important to make sure you have the loyalty of those around you. Damian, what is the definition of loyalty?”

Immediately he speaks up in response with a question directed at him, “Loyalty is a strong feeling of support or allegiance.”

Just as he finishes speaking, four of the city’s high ranking guards make themselves known by finally stepping out of the shadows. They stay very much out of reach, but their visible presence was enough of a threat as is. 

While Damian only takes mental note of their positions, refusing to show any wariness for the situation as he continues to stand steady in front of their Grandfather. Danyal on the other hand though visibly tenses shifting his head towards the new arrivals before turning a sharp look towards Grandfather and speaking out of turn. “What is this?” 

“This Danyal is your first test to prove yourselves worthy of the al Ghul name.” He pulls two katanas out of his robes, and throws them towards them. “Now, a fight to the death. Prove yourself to me that you deserve your name. Only victory will earn you your place here.” 

Those words are the same as putting oil on fire because instantly the four other assassins are surrounding them to attack. Instinctively Damian and Danyal move to stand back to back with one another. Mother always noted how even in battle the two of them always just had to be near each other. 

They moved like a well-oiled machine, as one, with each attack that was thrown their way. The number of opponents quickly dwindled down to 3 to 2 then 1 until all of the foes were eliminated with limited damage done to their person. With the fight over Danyal takes a moment to reach out and squeeze his shoulder in a comforting manner before they turn to face Grandfather, and await his review of their performance. 

“Hmm.” Grandfather's unimpressed stare is enough for Damian to know that they must have done something extremely wrong. The older man never waits to critique them after a fight. 

“Gran-” Danyal begins to speak; to question once again. 

“Shh, you do not speak to me until after the fight is done. If you wish to risk your name though then by all means speak freely.” 

… after the fight is done? Which means the fight is still going, and with only two individuals left that can only mean one thing. The others were a mere distraction; the real fight was the one against each other. A fight to the death a voice in the back of his head reminds him. Only one of them will be walking out of here the heir to the Demon head. 

Damian hears Danyal make a sound of clear displeasure, and opens his mouth to argue with Grandfather. Before he can though Damian quickly strikes forward to hit his brother with a move he knows Danyal can easily block against.  

"Damian, what are you doing?" Danyal angrily growls at him as their weapons are now exchanging blows. Both of them doing nothing more than playing pretend with the way they're currently fighting; stalling.

"You heard Grandfather Danyal, there is only one way this fight is going to end."

"And so you just blindly listen?"

"There is no going against him; the only thing we can do now is fight with honor."

"I'm not going to kill you, Damian!"

"You're right … because it will be me killing you brother." He'll make it quick, he promises himself. He will always love his twin, but the idea of going against Grandfather is simply not something Damian can do. So he will fight, give his brother peace, and carry this death with him forever. 

With that Damian shifts his stance and goes to attack with a deadly blow. Danyal does block it though, and in a matter of seconds emotion on his face ranges from anger to disappointment as he comes to terms with the fact that Damian had actually tried to strike him down. 

Danyal using his emotions shifts his stance as well to counter with his own attack, and just like that it begins. 

The problem that comes with fighting someone who you have trained with since the beginning is that both know each other's strengths and weaknesses. Their normal spars, while exciting, had always been exhausting based on just how long the fights lasted. 

Selfishly, Damian was glad about that for once. He wanted this final dance between them to last forever; if it did then there would be no need to ever say goodbye. 

This had to be done right? Grandfather wouldn’t make them fight like this for nothing. 

"I know you are angry, Danyal. I am as well, but something else must be going on for him to decide to do this!" Damian quietly pleads for his brother to understand why this is happening. 

"You have always blindly followed that man; it's just something that you do." Danyal strikes once more and manages to unbalance him. "When will you learn that not everything he says is true?" 

Danyal of course doesn't hesitate to take advantage of his momentary unsteadiness, with doing so he kicks Damian's feet out from under him while also disarming him in the process. He's on his back before Damian can even gather himself, and by the time he realizes this Danyal is standing above him; both katanas now sitting at his throat. 

He knows that even the slightest movement and he’d have a cut on his throat that would be unrecoverable from. 

"Stay down, brother." 

Still standing right by the pits, Grandfather takes a few strides forward to where Danyal and him are currently in their standstill. His face shows nothing, but anger and disappointment as he stares at them. "Well Danyal, what are you waiting for? Kill him." 

"No." 

"…No?" Grandfather says slowly, tone dangerous. 

"No!" Danyal turns back to him, and removes the katanas from his throat as he speaks, "Not until you explain what all this wa-." 

"No more words, Danyal? That's a first from you." Damian was confused for only a second about what exactly had his brother going silent. It became clear though once he saw a metallic gleam from his Grandfather's hand; a dagger positioned to stab his brother in the back. “Now drop your weapons.” 

Once Danyal has thrown both katanas off to the side Grandfather forces them to take a few steps back allowing Damian to quickly stand once more as he watches by. 

“... I was never leaving this room either way was I? Win or lose it didn’t matter.” 

“That right there is your problem, Danyal, you ask far too many questions.” Grandfather pushes the blade just hard enough to cause a gasp from his brother, “You are no longer an al Gluh. You will die here being a nobody.”

Danyal’s voice is strained as he sneers, “Well, if I can’t be someone in life, then I guess I’ll have to be something in death; that be a symbol, a message, or a warning. That I will promise you.” 

“I look forward to seeing it.” 

Damian thinks for a second that Grandfather was killing them both as his own chest felt pain when he sees the dagger in Danyal's back being pulled back to reveal a now red stained blade. For how could the universe let him enter this world with his brother only for it to deny taking him with Danyal at the end?

Everything stops as the two brothers stare at each other. Only it's not anger that builds between them, it's something bittersweet instead; a sad smile. It only takes a moment though for all of that to disappear as Danyal, probably using what strength he had left breaks away from Grandfather's hold. Though based on the amused look the older man has he definitely let Danyal go; if only to see what sort of plan a dying boy could have.  

Instead of going for one of the discarded blades that lay on the ground near him though, Danyal takes a few stumbling strides away, and throws himself into the Lazarus pit. 

"Hmm if Danyal wishes to experience dying once more than who am I to stop him." Grandfather says more annoyed than anything before his eyes sharply turn to him, "When he rises you will finish him this time, Damian. I'd hate to have to start all over again with a new heir, but it can be done. You understand don't you?" 

“Of course, Grandfather.” his voice hollow as he accepts both the now being handed to him. His eyes though never leave the last spot from where Danyal disappeared; waiting. Only nothing ever happens, and Damian isn’t sure if that is better or worse. 

-

“...Mother came in not long after that begging to know what had happened, but Ra’s had forbidden me from speaking of it. And I, like the foolish obedient child I was, listened.” Damian for the first time since he started talking looks up at his family that are sitting around him.

“Damian, what happened wasn’t-” Dick reaches out and puts a comforting hand on his shoulder. 

“No, Richard.” Damian interrupts, “I played my part in all of it, and no amount of placating words are going to change it.” 

“Damian.” His father’s voice is steady, but the sorrow he’s trying to mask is evident, “What can we do to help you?” 

“What?” 

“It sounds like you were never allowed to grieve for Danyal. Is there anything I can do to help you? Duke mentioned making a memorial for Danyal; it’d give him a place in the manor even if he can’t physically be with us.” 

“I’d- I’d like that.” 

-

Danyal wasn’t sure what he was thinking when he jumped into the Lazarus pit. It was just the one thing he knew would give him a fighting chance to stay alive; at least for just a moment more. 

Instead of popping right back out of the water though he felt himself floating down, down, and down. His mind was foggy, and Danyal was fighting just to keep himself awake at this point. He didn’t even have enough strength to react when a figure shrouded in purple entered his vision. 

“A symbol, a message, or a warning hmm? I can think of nothing more that describes you perfectly. Rest well young one, I will be seeing you again when the time is right.” 

That was the last thing Danyal heard before losing he completely lost consciousness, and when he woke up once more he was lying face down on the ground in a place unrecognizable to him. It took him far longer than he would like to admit to find an exit to this unknown cave he’s now in; even longer to find a road. 

Eventually, after a few hours of walking though he finally comes across a sign, “Amity Park?”