#FINALLY ABLE TO WRITE AGAIN

[fordohyon]

the internet is fixed 🫡 trust i have something good 🤓☝️

[benevolenterrancy]

hi!! I think your art is *so cool* o(≧∇≦o)

do you think you could draw more moshang? either post canon or that au you did last time?? (baby mobei has my heart and all I own)

(˵ •̀ ᴗ •́ ˵ ) oh! how about return to childhood—moshang flavor?

don't question this king, shang qinghua, he knows what he's about

[s0fter-sin]

you ever think about how it’s been over a year since we last saw aizawa, mic and their dead high school boyfriend

[katsuki-king-of-twinks]

Pierce Brown's ability to believably write from Virginia's perspective will always amaze me.

[screechingfromthevoid]

I think the kids are waiting at the sun tree. They've never really done that before. Sleeping by the sun tree. But as they watched their parents and their friends disappear, with fear in their eyes, it was a day full of firsts.

Wolfe ends up running off in a sort of fit. Leona runs after him. They both feel more at home in the woods. They probably went there to calm down. Vesper, as the oldest, decided she needed to get some things in order. Just in case.

And Gwen was going to leave, sneak into her father's office, past all his traps and rigging, until she notices Vax just standing there. Staring at the seams in the bark that aren't really there. She watched him collapse, sitting crisscross on the roots.

So she stayed. She sat next to her big brother, close and leaning on him. Though, she wasn't there looking for support. She had watched his cocky, teenage attitude melt away into a panic. Vax'ildan was panicking.

"They'll be okay," she told him. "They're the heros of the realm. They'll save uncle Vax and the world and come home." She sounded so sure. He had to believe she was right.

They stay there though. For hours. It might have been the most time the pair ever spent with each other. The sun starts wane and their home turns golden and their parents aren't back yet.

Leona and Wolfe come back, their faces red and a little dirty. They hadn't even taken their leathers off. Like they were going home when they saw their siblings still waiting. They flank their siblings, Leona wrapping an arm around Vax's shoulder and Wolfe taking Gwen's hand. Also contented to wait.

The sky is purple by the time Vesper came with blankets, pillows, and large boxes from The Slayer's Cakes. She had all of her siblings favorites picked out. Trinket 's bear claws for Leona. Sun treats for Gwendolyn. Trayon's Blondies for Vax. Keyleth 's almond bark for Wolfe. And her own personal favorite Everlight-as-Air Scones. She brought enough to count as dinner. She wasn't their head of household. She was their big sister. She didn't need to make sure they ate well or went to bed on time. That wasn't her job. Not yet.

The stars were out that night for them, granting them the family time that they desperately needed. They laughed and stole each other's pastries. They danced around any subject related to parents or their aunts and uncles away. Hunting and tinkering and spying were all fair game. The twins fought, Vax'ildan rolled his eyes and they got him to smile. Gwen listened carefully. Vesper counted the hours since their parents left.

She thought the sun might rise and they'd never see them again. She thought they would have to gather their things in the morning sun and start their new lives emerging from the roots on the sun trees. She thought-

The bark of the sun tree cracked and groaned as it split. All of the De Rolo children held their breaths. Aunt Pike, Uncle Scanlan (in centaur form?), the ashari man, Uncle Grog, a very beautiful and very scary elf woman.

Then father. Then mother hanging on the arm of a strange man they recognized immediately.

[ender1821]

behold. me coping with session 9 SL!shinyduo

— — —

The crackle of a lightning strike hits at the exact same moment Pearl hears a resounding crack from her neck. After she had been shot by Scar, the impact of the arrow led her to stumble down the ravine beside Scar’s base, leaving her at the bottom of the pit.

Well, at least it was quick.

She finds herself lying on the stone ground, a view of a clear blue sky above her.

The only thing she could do was let herself breathe. (Do ghosts even need to breathe? Eh, who knows.)

Her eyes close as she builds a steady rhythm with the rise and fall of her chest, willing for the aching and exhaustion riddled all throughout her body to somehow dissipate.

Aside from the sound of her breaths, she can pick up Scar’s voice off in the distance. It doesn’t sound much like a cheer, or a cry, or anything— but then again, Pearl’s not in a fit state to focus on whatever he’s saying.

Instead, she tries to think back on everything that just unfolded, all the deaths, the hunts…the duel. The zombie that had been creeping towards Scar before Pearl warned him.

She sighs, “I swear, if he dies to a zombie, after all that…”

Now, she wasn’t really expecting a reply.

Especially not a reply from a voice that’s so familiar.

“I know, right? It’d be embarrassing for both of us.”

Pearl’s eyes snap open in an instant, as though the answer gave her a surge of energy, overpowering the waves of numbing pain.

“…Gem?”

She looks…just like she used to, when they were red…together.

Pearl blinks, trying to focus on the figure looming over her. It’s only then, that she notices Gem’s body is slightly translucent, allowing rays of sunlight to pass through.

“Hey, Pearl.” Gem extends a greeting they both know far too well. She crouches down, tilting her head. “Are you going to keep lying on the ground, or…?”

“I might.” Pearl chuckles. “It’s pretty comfy down here, actually.”

“I can imagine.” Gem shifts to sitting cross-legged next to Pearl, which prompts her to try and actually sit upright as well.

Pearl grunts when she finally manages to move, scooting over to Gem. Sitting underneath the shades of a bit of overhang of the earth above, they find themselves situated in a corner of the ravine, now further ruined with scorch marks and splatters of blood on the walls.

Despite the destruction, sunlight casts shadows of sunflowers into the chasm. It must be the ones Scar has around his base.

Silence follows. Pearl tries her best to stare only at the walls around, but she ends up glancing at Gem a few too many times. She hopes Gem is too preoccupied to notice. (Pretty slim chance of that happening, considering the fact that there’s nothing of interest nearby but them.)

Eventually, though, something in Pearl pushes her to speak.

“So,” Pearl starts, “what’s got you wanting to give me a visit? I thought you’d be with Scott and Impulse.”

Gem jerks up at the sudden question, then turns away from Pearl. “I— I dunno, I just… We died pretty close to each other, you’re the first one I saw.”

If Pearl’s head had been a bit more clearer, maybe she would’ve questioned why Gem was so insistent on not facing Pearl when she answered. Instead, she accepts the answer with a nonchalant “Ah, I see.”

“Well, I appreciate the company. And…” Pearl adds, pausing as the following words get caught in her throat for a brief second:

“I’m sorry.”

That seemingly got Gem’s attention, causing her to look at Pearl once again.

Just today, Pearl was met with those same pair of eyes on multiple occasions. For some, they sparkled with a sense of joy. For others, they held a flurry of panic behind them.

At this moment, they were glazed with a whirlwind of emotions Pearl couldn’t even begin to decipher.

Pearl can see Gem obviously struggling to find something to say, or to piece together the thoughts in her head. Either way, Pearl waits.

“When you— when Scar was coming for me, you asked me if I wanted to duel it out with you, with swords.”

Pearl nods.

“Why?”

It’s such a simple question, really. Pearl knows exactly why she did it. Just as she knows why she went into the End earlier in the game to fight the dragon, why she rode a camel with the same person who’s killed her twice, why she couldn’t get a successful ambush when she’d been in the siege against Gem and the Scotts.

What leaves her lips is not the answer. Not a clear one, at least.

(It’s never easy, is it? When Scar and Gem had begun fighting, all Pearl wanted was a moment to think. She didn’t know what to do, she didn’t know why she began shooting, she just didn’t know. She couldn’t decide.)

“You said you didn’t want a bow fight.”

“But a sword fight, Pearl?” Gem pushes on in an instant. “I know you, Pearl, I know you prefer using an axe.”

“I do, yeah.” Pearl doesn’t give away any more than that, choosing to give Gem a noncommittal response.

“So— If Scar hadn’t— If I agreed, you—”

“You probably would’ve kicked my butt.” Pearl admits with a smile.

Gem takes a deep breath. Then, in the quietest voice Pearl has heard all day, Gem asks, “And you would’ve been fine with that?”

(I would’ve been more than fine with it.)

“You would’ve beat me fair and square, I don’t see anything wrong with that.”

“But you—” Gem cuts herself off with a groan, growing more and more frustrated with Pearl’s vague replies. It’s no use when they’re both dancing around the topic, even though all Gem wants is to ask: would you have let me kill you? Could we have stayed friends? What went wrong?

Gem recalls Pearl backing away after one swing of her sword, when she was fighting Scar, she caught a glimpse of Pearl leaving the fight to them. She remembers how Pearl could’ve pulled out her bow, could’ve ended her right there.

(Do I forgive you?)

A breeze blows past the Sunflower Valley, leading the flowers above, along with their shadows, into a gentle dance.

Nearly every question Gem has dies on the tip of her tongue, leaving only one:

“What now?”

Pearl gives it some quick pondering, before stretching her legs out and bracing herself to stand. “I wanna check on Mailbox and Matchbox.”

“Then,” She helps herself up by leaning on a wall. “I wanna see if I can find my Mounders anywhere.”

Lastly, she extends a hand out to Gem. “After that… I think I remember Scott saying something about a spare camel around Etho’s?”

Gem returns the smirk on Pearl’s face with one of her own. “Are you thinking what I’m thinking?”

“The Murder Camel rides once more!” Pearl cheers as she pulls Gem up with her.

[saetoru]

haven’t written in weeks and idk how to formulate words anymore but anyway before i log out again for the month here’s the in progress stuff coming for january

nerd! gojo fic

ex-convict! geto fic

gojo fix-it fic (i’m rewriting canon thank you 👍🏽)

[coolbattlegirl]

Blink, Blink 👀 ✨

[xxmiixyxx]

Fanart for @chaotic-orphan ‘s Intoxicating Fear Seriess

Based on this chapter: https://www.tumblr.com/chaotic-orphan/733102224986832896/intoxicating-fear-part-vi

[xxplastic-cubexx]

i was a bit anxious to reach out but i wanted to share a little headcannon i have for charles' powers^^

i feel that depending on the intensity of what hes doing at a certain point his powers turn into waves (though not necessarily visible) the person affected can feel it as a pulsating sensation and it can make their head throb

that and my other idea that his powers tend to affect gravity, but not making things float more like the exact opposite bc yknow how if u feel some intense emotion you want to just curl up on the floor sometimes? that but everyone has to now be it in a certain radius away from charles

and also ty for ur gorgeous cherik art ❤️❤️❤️ keeping the community alive

hello !!!!! thank you so much for sharin your thoughts, i LOVE the idea of charles' telepathy having physical effects on people (from the effect of his powers/his presence in their mind) it's sooo important to me .....

[daffi-990]

✨ Inspiration Saturday ✨

Soooo I mentioned last week that I’d found a title for Rival Firefighters 🚒 …

I even made a little banner for when I start posting (which won’t be for a while yet).

Title is from the song Haven’t Had Enough by Marianas Trench which I am currently obsessed with 😍 (seriously some days I just listen to it on repeat for ages, especially when I’m driving).

And here’s a little snippet from a scene that’s been fighting me for weeks but today I actually made progress with 😭. Thank you @thewolvesof1998 for reading over what I sent you and making sure it made sense and for your very helpful suggestions ❤️

He makes his way from car to car checking in on each one’s occupants, offering up first aid if needed. It’s repetitive work and Buck finds himself getting bored until his eyes spot a familiar name on the back of a turnout coat. Now things are going to get a lot more lively.

Buck makes his way over to where Diaz is finishing applying a Band-Aid to an elderly gentleman’s forehead.

“As I said before, you don’t have a concussion but if you start feeling dizzy or anything out of the ordinary, call your daughter okay?” The old man nods in agreement, Diaz patting him on the shoulder before collecting his things and getting to his feet.

“Firefighter Diaz, it’s been a while.” Buck says in greeting as the other firefighter turns around.

Diaz’s hair is sweaty and loose, a few strands falling forward over his forehead that have Buck’s fingers twitching with the want to touch. His face is coated in a mix of dust and maybe car oil? Buck doesn’t know exactly what the black stuff is but it is a look and Diaz is pulling it off.

Diaz clenches his jaw as his eyes harden. “Not long enough.” He mutters, walking past Buck.

“Oh come on!” Buck follows after him. “I bet you’ve missed me. They say absence makes the heart grow fonder and all that.”

Buck certainly missed Diaz and his big brown eyes and thick fucking thighs that are connected to such a glorious ass. He really wishes the man wasn’t wearing his turnouts. It’s a crime to keep an ass like that locked away.

“Absence makes the heart grow fonder but I still find you incredibly annoying and wish you’d stay gone.” Diaz shoots back, looking 100% done with Buck and the conversation.

Buck also missed this, whatever this is. He gets such a high from flirting with and teasing Diaz. Maybe it’s the hard to get ideal that’s doing it for him, but whatever it is, Buck likes riling Diaz up and today is no different.

“You wound me!” Buck clutches at his heart in mock offense. He expects an eye roll or another bitchy response, but Diaz just keeps walking, doing a wonderful job at pretending Buck doesn’t exist. Which, rude.

No pressure tagging: @hippolotamus @thewolvesof1998 @fortheloveofbuddie @lover-of-mine @wikiangela @spotsandsocks @malewifediaz @spagheddiediaz @athenagranted @exhuastedpigeon @watchyourbuck @monsterrae1 @eddiebabygirldiaz @rainbow-nerdss @wildlife4life @the-likesofus @theotherbuckley @try-set-me-on-fire @steadfastsaturnsrings @jamespearce9-1-1 @devirnis @callmenewbie @disasterbuckdiaz @djdangerlove @giddyupbuck @hoodie-buck @honestlydarkprincess @housewifebuck @jesuisici33 @jeeyuns @ladydorian05 @loserdiaz @captain-hen @weewootruck and as always, anyone else who would like to share something 🥰

[summertimemusician]

HAPPY ECHOES OF WISDOM DAY!!!

[downtofragglerock]

Guess what? I'm finally back with more Makuta

A Makuta with a lower body that resembled a large centipede. They resided over a mountainous forested region and terrorized the locals with frightening rahi that went bump in the night. They made their base in a cavern at the bottom of a well that had struck a vein of energized protodermis. They used this to "enhance" some of their most frightening creations to be more effective terrors. Local villagers eventually had enough and tried to hunt this Makuta down. The hunting party was whittled down until the survivors confronted the Makuta at the bottom of the well. During the battle this Makuta fell into the energized protodermis, being destroyed in the process and ending their reign of terror.

The Makuta who resided over the homeland of Johmak's people, setting themselves up in a large crystalline cavern. They specialized in rahi that either had organic crystals in their composition or existed in symbiosis with them. Harvested by GSR Teridax.

A Makuta who instead of beasts or plants, created fungi and fungal creatures. Some of their creations were capable of spreading highly deadly spores. Said creations where at one point considered for the position of "very destructive but plausibly deniable rahi legion", which would eventually be given to the Visorak. Due to the destructive and insidiously subtle capabilities their creations possessed, the OOMN eventually had this Makuta killed.

[sunnymoon-sunshine]

Another thought I’ve been having relates back to The Scorching, the history behind it, and how much of a good twist it was to throw out. I don’t know if it was planned or a convenient retcon, but it works on so many levels thanks to the themes already present. It also leads to some interesting theories.

Burn could never have been queen. The first action we see her do in the books is destroy an egg due to hatch within the next few nights. It’s cruel, and most of all, it sealed her fate. The kingdoms were founded on the blood and tears of furious mothers, broken hearted from losing their eggs and determined to keep their broods safe. Burn couldn’t have been queen, because that is not what a queen should be. Thorn takes the throne because she took over a city, created an army, and fought tooth and claw to find and save her lost dragonet, despite the odds.

Glory takes the throne because she is the dragonet who should have been cared for. She should have been seen, noticed, and saved. She wants to be queen not to have the nicest things, but because someone should care when a dragonet disappears. The first dragon she rescues is a dragonet. She is worthy because Grandeur gave up on her dragonets and her tribe, but Glory refused to give up.

Coral isn’t a good dragon; her abuses and her absolute classist nature are abhorrent. However, she is marked by her craze as she watched as so many of her daughters were crushed in their eggs. The horror of losing a child is what marks a queen, in some shape or form. Orca was not worthy of the throne, because before she even challenged her mother, she devised a way to kill every dragonet that could challenge her before they so much as crawled out of their egg.

What one truly has to wonder is when the rules changed. When did it become a rule that to become queen, there had to be a fight to the death? When did mothers find themselves pitted against daughters, sisters, nieces, all for the power of the throne she has? Who came up with the deadly challenge?

One can only wonder.

[spacedace]

Here, have a snippet of the Jason & Steph sibling bonding portion of the DP x DC AU I wrote 10k words for since last night in a haze of post sickness/burnout creative burst, featuring some Anger Management because of course it does lol

(I call it a snippet but it’s like...3k words lol)

Trigger Warnings because most of this snippet focuses on them running around Crime Alley and shit that goes down in it: references to drugs, overdoses, domestic abuse, child endangerment (if I miss anything let me know and I’ll add it). Nothing expliciet or details but they are things mentioned as happening because, well, Crime Alley.

-

Spoiler shifts subtly from foot to foot on the rooftop, hands open and ready at her side as she split her attention from watching him and checking the street below for signs of trouble. Her gaze was sharp on the girls working the corner, tracking for any hint that the man talking them up was making any of them uncomfortable even as she made sure Jason didn’t suddenly dart across the ten feet between them to strike out at her.

“George Conrad.” He said, satisfied that his sudden breaking of the silence didn’t make her jump though did catch her attention fully, fingers twitching warningly towards her belt. He nodded his head down to the street and the large man rummaging through the bag he brought with him. More of the girls had huddled up around him. “Not a john. Not even from Gotham.” He explained, shifting to walk over to the edge of the roof, giving her his back as he did. “His son Kyle ran away from home while George was oversees and ended up working the streets. George tracked him down once he was back in the states a few years ago but by the time he made it here Kyle had been killed.”

She moved to join him at the ledge, still leaving space between them but not enough for his guns to be as effective. Smart, vigilant, but still with a soft enough heart to stop and listen to one of the many tragedies that played out in Gotham’s darkest streets.

“What happened?” She asked, eyes softening on the big man in question as he started handing out ziploc bags. Jason knew very well what they held, and wondered if Spoiler could make out the finer details from the distance they were at. Sandwiches, granola bars, water bottles, condoms, clean needles, wet-wipes, little travel sewing kits, over the counter pain meds. Anything and everything George had ever been told would be appreciated or useful by the sex workers he spoke to.

“Overdose.” Jason answered, grateful that the distorter built into his helmet disguised the tightness of his voice. Memories of a cold body on the floor, stiff and waxy with distant glassy eyes. “Got mixed up with the wrong person. Boyfriend. Not a big player but,” He shrugged and knew that Spoiler would understand. It was how a lot of people got mixed up in sex work when they wouldn’t have normally. Boyfriend that promised the world, the painful fall into being pressured to sleep with said boyfriend’s friend, then another, then another. “One of Daisy’s boys was a neighbor and figured out what was going on, Daisy helped get him out but it was too late by then.”

Below one of the girls, younger than the rest - an adult, because he wouldn’t allow anything else in his territory, but still new to the scene - surged forward to wrap her arms around the old man. George gave her a gentle pat on the back, pushing her back gentle to dig out a card from his pocket. A list of numbers for her to call, shelters and organizations that could help, his own number in case she ever needed anything. “They chipped in for a funeral for him. Gave George somewhere to go and mourn. He’s been here ever since, trying to look after them all. He works as a bouncer at Daisy’s these days but he always does the rounds when he isn’t working.”

“People never get this part.” Spoiler mused, voice going soft and distant. “They always think the Alley is just…” She waved a gloved hand, “Trash and monsters. They can’t seem to get that there’s more. Just…people. Some really good ones even.”

He smiled behind his mask. There was a reason she was the one of the whole Bat Clan he’d decided to trust with this.

“Come on.” He said, waving her after him as he began an easy run that’d let them both move easily from rooftop to rooftop. Spoiler hesitated a moment, but at length followed, quick and quiet as she darted from shadow to shadow in his wake.

They spent the following couple of hours meandering around Crime Alley at an easy clip. Squat roofs and rusted fire escapes, narrow streets and dark corners. Pausing to jump in and handle anything that popped up or at particular spots of interest where he’d point out places and people. The chop shop run by the ragged gang of teens and children some of the gangs had been angling towards that needed looking after. The homeless encampment nestled between the grimy apartment building Daisy O’Neil had taken over to run her business out of and the tiny, almost forgotten pauper’s cemetery. The usual roosting spots for the drug dealers, the gambling dens, the little family owned cafe that had the best Tantuni at midnight and even better Turkish coffee at the crack of dawn.

It was as they perched on top of this last one, tucked back in the shadows away from view as Spoiler devoured the freshly made Lokma that Mrs. Solak insisted on making fresh for them when they stopped by that the question finally came.

“So what exactly is all this?” Spoiler asked, popping another of the sugary, honey covered Lokma in her mouth. He’d shoved the container Mrs. Solak had given to him over to her after eating only a few, knowing she was going to try to steal them anyway if he didn’t. “When you said you needed my help with something in Crime Alley, I was expecting…I don’t know, drug runners or something.” She popped another golden dough ball in her mouth, cheeks round as a chipmunk and voice muffled as she said, “Not a tour of the place.”

Jason let his head fall back on the brick of the rooftop entrance behind them, eyes scanning the glittering horizon of the Gotham skyline, trying to sort out his answer. He had talked about how he was going to do this with Jazz, practicing what he was going to say, what he wanted to reveal, what outcomes he could expect from the whole thing. When he left he’d felt confident about it all, riding high on the warmth of Jazz’s kiss and the fluttering thumps of little legs kicking against his hand. Now that he was here though he felt lost as to how to begin.

“I’m hanging up the mask.” He finally said. It wasn’t quite like the first time he’d said it out loud, in the privacy of his apartment, curled in bed with Jazz, only brave enough to whisper it in the dark. There wasn’t that rush of anxiety and relief that had hit him at finally saying what had twisted over and over in his head for weeks leading up to that moment. Now there was just the settled feeling, the certainty, the surety of being on the path he wanted to be on. “I wanted to ask if you’d look after my territory me when I do.”

Spoiler gaped at him. “Wait, seriously?”

He almost laughed, he settled on giving her a lazy smile. “Seriously.”

With her masked pulled down so she could eat her treats he could see her wide eyed, disbelief on her face easily. “Why?”

He gave a shrug, aiming for nonchalant. “This used to be your territory for awhile, right? You’re from here, you know the Alley and the people and how it all works.” He felt his smile go softer, “I trust you to be able to keep it safe.”

Spoiler’s - Steph’s - expression softened at that. “That’s…thank you.” She glanced out the same way he had before, face caught in something bittersweet. “I…I hated this place growing up. I still do, kinda. I think everyone that lives here does. But I still missed it, it’s still…still home.”

“Yeah,” He agreed, mind turning over his childhood. The constant fear and hardship. Living rough even when he did have a roof over his head. His father’s heavy hands. His mother’s slow wasting. Crime Alley was a complete shit hole, one where the worst of the worst tended to gather. But it wasn’t all monsters. There were good people too, just trying to scrape by. Old George wandering the streets handing out necessities to working girls and boys. The Solak family and their little shop, giving out the left overs to the street kids and homeless. The Nightingales, crammed into their two bedroom apartment, just trying to get by. “I knew you’d get it.”

They sat in silence for awhile. Steph chewing over his request and her Lokma, Jason lost in memories of the past and wistful dreams of the future. At length the blond next to him bumped his shoulder with hers, head tilting at a questioning angle. “I…I really appreciate what you said, about why me.” She said, awkward and touched in equal measure. “But…I was actually wondering why you were stepping back.”

He was ready for that question, he was. He’d initially just wanted to leave it at none of your fucking business but Jazz had - wise as ever - pointed out that he was asking her a favor, and a big one at that. He might not be comfortable with the rest of his family knowing everything - or anything - but Steph at least deserved an explanation as to why he was asking her to take over his territory.

“You tell anyone this, and I will kill you.” He started and then cringed internally because that had not at any point been something that had come up in his practice conversations with Jazz. Oh well, any more ooie-gooey feelings talk and Steph probably would have thought he was replaced by a pod person or something. “I’m seeing someone.”

The faintly alarmed look the blond vigilante beside him had melted away in an instant, replaced by a sly, mischievous grin. Hellion. One whiff of gossip and that’s all it took. “Ooooh, Big Bad Red Hood has a heart after all.” She crooned, ignoring her earlier reticence to get too close and leaning dramatically against his side. “Who is it huh? Anyone I know? Ooh, is it someone in the Outlaws?”

He was reminded of before he died, suddenly. Of teasing Dick over his latest crush over a beautiful red head that could kick his ass like a proper annoying little brother. In an echo of that moment so many years ago, he shoved Spoiler off in the same way Dick had done to him, rolling his eyes at her dramatic squawking as she nearly dropped her treat to disguise the small smile that wanted to curl at his lip. He swiped at the container lazily, a feint at stealing it back that resulted in a brief scuffle that ended with him popped a few of the Lokma in his mouth as she tore the container - that he had given to her in the first place - away, holding it close to her chest like a precious treasure.

“No, no one you know.” He answered at last they finally settled down. He paused for a beat, gaze turning back to the city as he added. “She’s a civilian.”

Spoiler looked considering at that, chewing at one of the last of the Lokma thoughtfully. “So what’s going on then? You do a face reveal and she asked you to quit the vigilante business?”

“No.” He said, taking a small, steadying breath. Better to just rip off the bandaid. “She’s pregnant.”

Spoiler went still beside him, laughing eyes shuttering and face falling into a neutral mask as she stared at him. After a long, long moment she gave a small, unreadable little, “Oh.”

Jason fought the urge to fidget. Oh. It could mean so many things. Oh shit. Oh no. Oh how nice. Oh boy I can’t wait to tell Bruce about this. That last one, admittedly, was unlikely. Spoiler was on good terms with most of the Bats and Birds but she and Bruce had long had something of a rocky relationship. No where near as bad as what he and the old man had, but still enough that she was probably the very last person to willingly go hunt Bruce down to share all the details of Jason’s private life unless she thought it particularly necessary.

The silence stretched on. And Jason knows what silence does to a human brain. Four seconds of quiet during a conversation after saying something registers as rejection, caused feelings of anxiety and apprehension, even caused the same signals in the brain as physical pain. Prolonged silence and steady attention at the same time caused an urge to fill the quiet, to speak and keep speaking until the other person says something. It was something Bruce taught him, guiding him along in his Robin days on how to perform interrogation and get the person they were questioning to spill their guts.

He was taught too how to outlast that silence in situations where he was being questioned. Both by Bruce and by the League - though the interrogations that he was meant to resist under their teachings had far more than long awkward silences to contend with. He knew how to clamp down on that instinctive drive to keep talking when faced with stillness like this.

And yet, somehow he could stop himself.

“I just…I think about being a kid and my dad going to work,” He said the word with appropriate amount of vitrol, “And then never coming back. Him dying in jail and it just being me and my mom trying to scrape by. Or…or with Bruce. Knowing that I was always going to place second to the Rogues and the city. I just…” His head dropped back on the brick behind him, eyes closed and throat tight. “I can’t do that to my kid. I’m going to be there. I’m going to make sure they’re safe and happy and that they don’t ever have to worry about if their old man is coming home or not.”

It was a nightmare he’d been having, since the morning he and Jazz crowded over a couple of pregnancy tests and saw the results. Dying out in the gutter and shambling home as a ghost to see the grief he left behind. Jazz crying, a child who’s features he could never make out standing in the doorway the way he would stand at the entrance of the cave when he was too injured to go out with Batman. Waiting in painful silence and burning tears to find out that his father was dead.

“I’m not…I’m not cutting out of the life completely.” He said, trying to focus past the squeezing in his chest, trying to force the conversation back into a conversation rather than him just pouring his bleeding heart out to a blank wall. “I’m going to talk to Babs, see if she’d be alright with me helping with some of what she does, or get something similar setup solely for the Alley. I’m going to keep tabs with my guys on what’s going on and work with them that way. And if there’s anything big, obviously you guys can call me in, I’m not just going to sit back if there’s a city wide threat or worse, I just - “

There were arms around him, suddenly. Warm and strong as they wrapped around him, a face pressed into his shoulder, his nose tickled by blond hair.

He sat there, frozen for a long moment before slowly, lifting his own arms to return the hug. Steph gave him an encouraging squeeze. “I get it.” She said, voice whisper soft and almost lost as she spoke into the leather of his jacket. “I think…I think if I’d been older, if I was more able to keep her…I think I would have done the same thing.” There was a faint sniff as she finally pulled away. She wasn’t crying, but her eyes were bright with tears. “I’m happy for you.” She moved to gently head butt him, “And I’m honored to take over watching over this shithole of ours.”

Jason gave a watery laugh, not even caring that he was crying as he scrubbed away some of the tears that had burned down his cheek. “Thanks Blondie. Steph.”

She rocked back on her heels, arms crossed as her expression turned suddenly serious. “I do have one condition though.” At his look the seriousness melted away into an exuberant grin. “I want to meet this mystery woman of yours. Wait!” She brightened, “Two conditions! I want to be there when you finally tell B and the rest! I am not missing the look on their faces when you tell them!”

He rolled his eyes and shoved her, sending her tumbling into the container of Lokma and sending the remaining fried dough balls rolling across the grungy roof. Steph squawked, dropping to her knees before the thoroughly ruined sweets as dramatic as if it was her one true love laying dead before her. “They were so young, so innocent!” She wailed, throwing her head back as if to howl at the sky in mourning before snapping back to him, finger pointing at him accusatory. “You! This is your fault! I will have my vengeance!”

The rest of the night was spent darting from rooftop to rooftop in an echo of the game of tag he used to play with Dick and Babs years ago. Tackling each other and fighting without actually aiming to do real damage. Only pausing to jump down to the street or through a window here and there to knock some heads together.

By the time he was heading to the Dead Man’s Hand so he could walk Jazz home - or whisk her off to his safehouse, if he was lucky and she was able to duck her siblings for the day - he felt lighter. Steph would look after the Alley, the people he protected. He’d work with her over the next few months, get her integrated with his lieutenants and make sure she was familiar with the ins and outs of his little slice of Gotham, make sure she was as ready as she could be to take over for him.

[marshmurmurs]

hes eepy

the abyss but what it looks like is based off of the hunters memories. it expands with each death in a vault, taking bits and pieces and building, creating something that should feel familiar to the hunters, something they should want to trust, something that is every so slightly Wrong

sparkly doesnt die in the abyss in the funky abyss au but he is in there fairly willingly and the abyss is able to poke around his head and go shopping for landscaping ideas. helps that he remembers the forest of the abyss fondly