#Getting back into writing slowly

[the-cauldron-witch]

Protecting his peace

Prompt I came up with: Raph protects everyone else's peace, but who protects his when it comes down to it?

Set in the bayverse TMNT

This past week had to have been the worst Raph has had since Shredder tried to take the city or Krang taking the world. It was just one thing after another, it felt like there was no rest or reprieve from each event. The botched surveillance mission was the beginning of this shitstorm, April had caught wind of some rogue scientists that had managed to find some left-over technology from the Krang’s invasion attempt. What exactly it did and what exactly they wanted to do weren’t clear, so they set out to the supposedly abandoned warehouse for more information.

Emphasis on the word ‘abandoned’ as in, abandoned for so damn long that when Raph went into the rafters one of the beams had rusted too much to hold his weight. He came crashing down into the enemies, blowing their cover entirely and sending most of them scattering, ultimately ruining the mission. Some scientists made off with equipment in the fray. No amount of apologizing or explaining convinced any of his brothers this wasn’t done out of impatience or defiance, despite how hard Raph tried to convince them. Leo even benched him when they went to find out where their next hide-out would be. That really pissed Raph off.

Being in the lair and being forced to stay there were two different things. If he was willingly in the lair it was home, but when he wasn’t allowed to leave it felt like a prison. Turning to his punching bag was one of two outlets for his anger, which he felt the need to use immediately once his brothers finally leave. Just before the three left to follow another lead, Donnie decided to test out an upgrade for the grappling hook. It would make scaling vertical buildings with flat surfaces much quicker.

The force? Perfect. Velocity and precision? Flawless. Donatello’s aim and self awareness? Lacking, as the grappling claw was launched directly through Raph’s punching bag, sand spilling out in a small pile on the floor.

“Oops...” Donnie squeaked.

This mistake ultimately sent Donnie back a few weeks of work as Raph broke the cable entirely from the gun. It was going to be difficult to find another cable the same length and strength. 

Turning his anger to the gym was his second best option, Raph tripling his workout routine and doubling the weight on each machine. The burn and sweat on his muscles helped seal the rage at how completely unfair his situation was, focusing on the work out rather than deal with it.

His sanctuary was unfortunately going to be short-lived thanks to his youngest brother. When Raph put his weights down and headed to the kitchen, wanting to grab a quick power snack before moving onto his next workout, Mikey set to work. Sneaking into the room whilst his brother was busy Mikey set to work on yet another one of his pranks. He had found a recipe on Donnie’s computer for a paint-bomb, one that was actually pretty powerful and took a minute to detonate. This was going to be his best one yet, having made it a bit bigger than the previous ones.

Returning to his spot in the common living space, pretending he was listening to his music the whole time and didn’t notice Raph returning to the weight room, Mikey eagerly waited for his plan to unfold. Biting into the quick sandwich he threw together, Raph stood in the middle of the room for a moment debating on what equipment he wanted to use next. Before he could make a decision or even take a second bite there was a resounding BOOM! Sending bright neon pink paint everywhere, covering far more than the previous bombs.

The previous ones had about a two or three foot blast radius, just enough to make a mess and startle the target while still being manageable for clean up. Not this one. From the ceiling, to the standing mirrors, to every barbell and piece of workout equipment inside the room- himself included, were covered in a fairly thick layer of paint. Spitting the sudden foulness out of his mouth Raph scraped the paint off of his face, his sandwich completely obliterated out of his hand in the blast. Hawking onto the floor, Raph took a long stunned moment to collect himself and register what was happening.

“Oh, shit...” Mikey muttered from the entrance of the gym, wide eyed and a bit taken aback himself. He had not intended for the blast to be THAT big and messy, just enough to startle Raph, maybe a little paint on his dumbbells and a little bit on himself. Right now, it was so pink it looked like it was Barbie’s personal gym. Letting out a guttural snarl Raph was across the room before Mikey had time to get a safe distance away, unable to stop his older brother from blackening his left eye.

Today, two days later from the paint bomb, Raph had absolutely had enough. He screwed up a mission by accident and no one wanted to believe him, now both of his best outlets are completely in disarray. The mostly empty sandbag hung like a chicken on a hook, swaying back and forth gently. Neon pink dried paint still clung to every surface in his workout room, which he demanded be cleaned the previous night. That started off the day's argument.

“This is fucking bullshit!!” Raphael roared, kicking the coffee table over as he stormed out of the common living area.

“Jesus Christ, Raph. Will you calm down?” Leo growled in annoyance, having had enough of his awful mood.

“Your attitude is getting out of hand, Raphael-” Master Splinter chastised, entering the living area with a tap of his cane. He wasn’t pleased with what little good furniture they had being abused.

“Are you shitting me, how the fuck am I the one in trouble?!” Raph exploded in disbelief.

“Do not use such language with me-”

“FUCK THIS!”

Walking tenderly into the lair you listened with caution as voices grew louder and angrier, your boyfriend's voice loudest of all. You had already known about the events of this week through many curse filled texts and phone calls. Talking him down from his heated state took some gentle words and reassurance of returning to the city after visiting family soon. You cut the trip a day short and returned early, you didn’t even bother going home to drop off your things and simply parked it in the usual safe spot you used.

Fury had completely blinded Raph as he stormed off, shoving Leo roughly out of his way as he headed for his room without noticing you entered. The silence was heavy once Raph’s door slammed shut, an uncomfortable aura hanging in the air as you were slowly noticed. No one really said anything to break the tension, so you decided to.

“I’m going to go talk to him,”

“Good luck,” Mikey scoffed from his seat on the couch, his left eye half lidded and swollen. Ignoring the snide comment you continued down the hall to the sound of what could be described as a bull kicking up a tornado. A loud smash and clatter of broken wood could be heard from the other side of the door followed by a few more snarled curses from the infuriated mutant turtle within. Taking a second to let one or two more items be hurled across the room before you reached out and knocked firmly.

Footsteps vibrating from behind the firmly locked door shook beneath you, but didn’t intimidate you in the slightest. The second the door is ripped open and nearly off the wall Raph opened his mouth to roar demandingly just who the hell had the audacity to try and talk to him right now, only for his gaze to fall on you. Immediately his demeanor changed, his shoulders relaxed and face softened from being so tense just seconds ago. You didn’t need to ask permission to come in as Raph side-stepped out of the way and closed the door gently behind you as you entered.

The debris scattered about his room was hard to identify, you were pretty sure the wood was his nightstand and some of the plastic was a game controller, the rest you couldn’t identify. Silent and sulking Raph trudged over to his bed and sat at the edge, his elbows digging into his thighs heavily and gaze secured to the floor. Had he known you had made your way into the lair, he wouldn’t have gotten so loud and angry, that wasn’t a side of him he wanted you seeing and you knew it.

Stepping around the debris you made your way to his bed quietly, normally you would have slipped off your shoes and left them at the entrance but the many broken pieces scattered around the floor made that difficult. The only sound you could hear was the low, deep growl under his breath and the unmistakable grind of his molars as he chewed on his emotions so he could swallow them back down.

He didn’t lift his head as you came to stand directly in front of him, his gaze now at your feet. Palms gently taking either side of his face, you gently lifted his gaze to meet yours, his face was scrunched with clear frustration.

“Talk to me, baby” Leaning over you pressed a kiss to his forehead, letting him know it was safe to let it out. He was still just a moment before taking a deep breath and letting out a long, slow sigh. Wrapping his massive arms around your midsection he pulled your form to his, calloused hands pressing you flush to him as he rested his head on your shoulder and buried his face into your neck.

“I...They...mmph” Tripping over his words Raph sucked in a breath, using your scent to center himself and his thoughts. “It’s like...it’s like I’m not allowed to make a mistake, like as soon as I do somethin’ wrong more shit goes wrong just to beat me further...like I’m not allowed to be angry about how unfair this shit is!”

He huffed frustratedly, pulling you directly into his lap as he began scooting backwards until his shell met the wall with a small thud. The rage in his voice was dwindling, but did not extinguish, not that you could honestly blame him. In your opinion he had every right to be angry, especially since he was genuinely innocent this time. You might not have been there, but by the genuine hurt of not being believed in his eyes made you believe him entirely.

“You’re allowed to feel mad about this, it is completely unfair” You sympathized with him, one palm still cupping his cheek with your thumb gently stroking the softer part of his skin. “Honestly I’m upset for you, you shouldn’t be ganged up on over just one mistake. Everyone makes mistakes, you don’t deserve to be ganged up on for it”

The way his eyes soften at your words made your own anger rise. Raph’s temper may burn the brightest, but that shouldn’t overshadow his own emotions. Swallowing thickly he didn’t respond at first, allowing the rest of his emotions to finally settle. Hurt, disappointment, invalidation, each emotion bubbled and slowly revealed itself as you quelled the rage.

“Like they didn’t screw up too,” He grumbled angrily, “My punching bag basically got disemboweled and my work out room is still covered in paint ‘cause a Donnie and Mikey, but I’m the one getting yelled at for being mad about it!”

“Is that what all that yelling was about?” You questioned gingerly, raising an eyebrow to him.

“I was telling Mikey his ass needed to go and clean my fuckin’ workout room! He had the audacity to tell me to wait ‘cause he was playing some game like it ain’t been two days,” Throwing his free hand in the air in exasperation Raph let it drop onto your thigh, his fingers firmly digging into your flesh and pulling you closer somehow. “I told him if he didn’t clean it ASAP I was gonna crack his shell, then Master Splinter starts in on me and gettin’ mad cause I’m pissed off”

It was strange voicing the emotions slowly simmering in his chest instead of lashing out and covering them up or working them out with weights, all of his focus on scorching them into nonexistence. With your coaxing and genuine care, Raph slowly started talking them through and understanding them more, which unfortunately made him feel them more.

“I’m sorry baby. Did he even say a word to Mikey or Donnie?” Squirming in his lap to get comfortable you slipped your pinned arm under his, pressing your cheek into his collar where his plastron met skin. Tears stung and pricked the edges of his eyes, threatening to spill over and be absorbed by his mask. He didn’t want to cry, that felt like admitting defeat, but he couldn’t stop the overwhelming amount of emotions he was feeling now that you opened the floodgates. It was all overwhelming for him now.

“Tch, hell if I know, probably not. Like he or any’a them care, he didn’t even believe me either when I told him about Leo’s bullshit-”

“Are you seriously still on about that?” A scoffing demand from the eldest intruder as the door somehow opened unnoticed. Fire returning to his core Raph audibly gnashed his teeth together, outrage immediately returning to his very being.

“Oh wow, he’s actually crying too” Mikey commented as his own head poked in.

“Get the FUCK out!”

The loud and demanding bark shockingly did not come from Raphael, but yourself. It even came as a shock to you, but seeing the two offending brothers flinch back granted you some unforeseen vigor in you. Releasing you from his grip Raph watched with astonishment as you crawled from his embrace, unsure of how to react to you exploding on his brothers. You had known all of them for some time now, where friends before starting a relationship with Raphael, never had you taken such a tone with any of them.

“You are being completely and totally unreasonable! How are you going to keep dogging on Raph after a mistake like you’re something perfect, huh?” Your heels stomped on the floor with each step you took towards the door, eyes locked with the eldest. There was no response from Leo even as his mouth opened to speak. He didn’t know what or how to respond. With no retort coming, you decided to continue this tangent on behalf of your boyfriend. If they weren’t going to listen to him, they damn well were going to listen to you now.

“And then you come in here and make fun of him for being upset over all this?” You turned yourself to Mikey, who had taken a few paces back when you began shouting. “Especially when his weight room looks like that! It’s like it came out of a damn pepto bismol commercial”

His eye ached when Mikey winced at your comment, the guilt finally digging its claws in. In all honesty the paint bomb wasn’t meant to be that messy, but Mikey had apologized for it...right? Now he was second guessing himself as he felt his eye throbbing.

“Not to MENTION what happened to his punching bag!” You decided to add quickly, not wanting to lose momentum on this running train.

“Sorry...” Came Donnie’s small voice from in front of his desktop, the sincerity in his voice tugging at your chest a little. Given the state of the hollow bag hanging in its spot still, you didn’t feel too bad for calling him out.

“A little late, Donnie!” You huffed in indignation, “You all ganged up on him when he did something wrong and expected him to fix his mistake somehow, but you all made a mistake and you won’t even apologize for it!”

There was an unmistakable static in the air now as you waited for someone to speak up. Swallowing thickly Leo continued to hold your intense glare with his own, normally he would have spat something back with what Mikey would call his ‘leader voice’ in regards to questioning his leadership- but he wasn’t your leader. You were a long time and close friend, so maybe your words worked a little differently.

“Look, maybe we did make mistakes, but we’re not the ones disturbing the peace and lashing out at everyone!” Leo couldn’t think of any other counter argument at this moment. Was there any other argument, though? He wasn’t wrong, Raph had lashed out, but you still couldn’t blame him.

“Well, you know what? I’m protecting his peace now, because he feels none of you give a shit” Your voice was curt and harsh but not as raised as it was. Taking a step back you grabbed the side of the door, “He’ll talk to you all when he’s ready!”

Swinging the door shut firmly you didn’t give anyone a chance to speak further, the slam of the door effectively sending the lair into silence again. Raphael’s eyes never left your frame, stunned silent at your words. Protecting his peace. It was a strange feeling, he was normally the one protecting himself and those around- he saved the city twice in his lifetime alone. Not since he was a child did he feel like he needed protection, yet somehow here you were doing just that for him.

Beside the door taped to the wall was a Vin Diesel movie poster of one of his many films, pinching the untapped corner of the paper you gently pulled it up to reveal the keypad underneath. Keying in the specific code, which was really just Raphael’s given birthdate, there was a hiss and shudder from within the walls as you activated the security system. The door was now locked tight, the only person that could even hope to enter now was Donnie- if he steeled his nerves enough to make the attempt to enter the dragon's den now. After everything that you had said, you had no intention of letting his family back in his room.

There was a power in your step as you strode back over to the bed, heels crushing whatever litter was scattered across the floor instead of carefully stepping around the mess as you had earlier. A small stone formed by guilt sat uncomfortably in the pit of your stomach, you’d never even had a serious argument with them let alone all the things you had just said. But you meant it, you were protecting his peace when he felt no one else cared about it.

The way he opened his arms to you, beaconing you to come back to him, made your heart hurt some. With the anger washed away finally left behind only hurt in his green eyes that begged you for more comfort silently. Crawling across the messy bed spread you climbed back into his lap, burying yourself under his chin as he dipped his head and held you close to him.

“Thank you...” Was all he murmured, a tear unintentionally spilling from pure frustration. Kissing his cheek you held him the best you could, given the size difference it was the best you could do.

His peace deserved protecting just as much as anyone.

[tired-teacher-blog]

On the off chance that Aizawa manages to get you mad at him for whatever reason, your initial reaction would be to let him know, because as quick witted as he is, things like that can easily go over his head if not pointed out clearly.

Surely he hates upsetting you, so when it happens it's usually no more than a misunderstanding, but it's also not in his nature to flat out apologize or ask for forgiveness, that's why he'd do his utmost to lighten the mood and win you back in other ways, and it's a sight to behold.

First he would simply invade your personal space, taking a seat by your side while making sure to bump his knee or shoulder against yours and see if you're willing to have him near.

Obviously you do not react to his advances, but wouldn't push him away either– too intrigued by your own curiosity to dismiss him just yet, so you sit back and enjoy the view of him struggling internally.

He then carefully leans some of his weight on you, will probably even rest his head against yours or place a hand on your thigh, depending on the mood, to which you still say and do nothing.

That's when his patience starts running thin, or rather, when he realizes that he has truly messed up and needs to swallow his pride and apologize properly, and so he does.

_ "I'm sorry I was out of line, but it won't happen again I promise." his voice would be small and anxious as he cautiously takes your hand in his big calloused ones, fiddling with your fingers while gazing at you with a tinge of worry, and that's the only thing he seems capable of doing at the moment.

You immediately give in to a smile that's been threatening to creep across your face this whole time, because in reality, you were never actually upset with him, you were just relishing a side of your boyfriend that you rarely get to witness, but maybe you should cut him some slack already?

_ "It's okay Shouta, let's just forget about it." and you jump in his arms without a warning, giving him no time to react while moving to straddle his waist and watch as his stunned expression slowly switches to an amused one.

_ "Done," he nods in agreement, wrapping his arms around you before nuzzling your cheek to whisper seductively, "now kiss me."

And it doesn't stop there, not with a kiss, never with just a kiss, and his greed for you starts to show when he shamelessly slides his hands lower and lower until reaching your butt cheeks, squeezing your flesh teasingly as a sign of what awaits you, and if that's not enough to tell his intentions, then the smirk curving his lips as they mold perfectly with yours, sure is.

[ew-selfish-art]

Dp x Dc AU: Bruce has a 'if you can't beat them, join them' mentality about the tabloids claiming he adopts too many kids- Developing foster homes that are paid for through the Wayne inheritance, personally vetted by the Bats, they're the leaders in the space for child health outcomes and family placement. Insert Danny.

---

Bruce has too much wealth, too many rumors and not enough reach into the abhorrent foster homes around Gotham to improve them. Tim ends up being the one to suggest it- He's the one who buys up their real estate for their safe houses after all- and Bruce is more than ready to pull the metaphorical trigger to get new clean welcoming spaces, Bat-background checked fosters and a new era of adoption in Gotham underway.

He's lobbied the state and the federal government for reforms of course, but this is a project he can micromanage. He spends time with every kid that comes through, talks with all the families that want to adopt and makes sure that these miniature homes are provided only the very best. Alfred personally hires all the staff, and with Barbara more than happy to help relocate the unhoused children she spots while they patrol, the project is a glowing success.

Occasionally, spots in their houses fill up, and those are the weeks were Cass takes on the Cowl of Batman- Bruce Wayne will personally invite a child in need to his home. He always has one of his kids present (they rotate on a pre-determined schedule) and he does his best to try and get them to understand that they deserve the world, have all the potential that anyone else has and can achieve a bright future. That he will personally aid them in their ambitions.

PR goes crazy for it of course, but Bruce and all of his children know its genuine. Almost too genuine, because a betting pool 'WILL THEY BE ADOPTED' regularly circulates between the siblings and the entire JL when someone spends time at the manor. And not just the black-haired, Blue-eyed kids get picked as favored outcomes- but obviously the running joke gets passed around.

It's a Thursday night when Bruce gets the call that the houses have once again filled up, and that there is a child in need of a home. The social worker (he knows her as Marsha and he has flowers planned to be sent on her birthday next week, like he does for all of his employees) (Say micromanaged one more time) explains that the kid is a bit cagey but has opened up with some humor. She explains that he has a few strange... mannerisms. She's not sure what to make of him, a non-gothamite for sure but something is, well, distinctly 'not from around here' about his energy.

Danny arrives at the house, meets Duke and Alfred, and by the time Bruce meets him at the dinner table it seems as though Marsha had it all wrong. This kid was laughing, he was teasing, he was totally playing along like he'd gone through nothing. Bruce is glad he's in high spirits but its just so... so different from all the other children he's taken in.

Bruce re-focuses on the conversation when Duke mentions something flashing, and its the first time that Danny goes quiet. Entirely still.

"...you noticed that?" Danny quietly asks, a bit of disbelief in his tone.

"You don't have a flashlight on or something do you? It was super bright whatever it is that you had in your hand a second ago?" Duke tries to sound chill but he's looking very much not chill. Bruce saw nothing, and that puts him further on edge.

"Look... I uh, I've been though... I've been through a lot lately. And the last lab I was in kind of, messed with me. I'm normally much better at dealing with it all, I promise." Danny sounds nervous, and the room seems to chill.

"Ah shoot, sorry." Danny notices something and frantically apologizes.

"Sorry for what Danny? You've done nothing wrong but I am worried about you- You said you were in a lab?" Bruce is desperately trying to calm him down while not slipping into Batman interrogation mode.

"Uh, yeah, like a lot of labs. It should get warmer in a second, its just cause I startled, I promise."

"You're a meta." Duke speaks softly and with hope in his voice- Danny is looking between them with wide eyes filled with fear.

"I mean I don't technically have the gene-"

"Danny, have you told any of your case workers where you were? Do any authorities know what you've been through?" Bruce needs to know, desperately, that who ever gave this young boy super powers is brought to justice. Danny goes quiet.

"I'm really sorry." He says softly, but he doesn't leave them.

Duke and Bruce try to ask a few more questions but the silence that meets them declares the conversation over, even with Duke admitting he himself is a meta. Danny didn't even look up from his plate. They watch a movie after dinner, and Danny seems to get back to the smile-y happy guy he had been before dinner.

Each of the bat-fam have their own interactions with Danny- And even if they're getting along amazingly, Danny won't open up. He doesn't open up to his provided therapist. Doesn't talk to Alfred. No one knows what's up.

So when Marsha calls Bruce back explaining they now have a spot for Danny and he can move out of the Manor... Bruce replies that he'd like to get started on Adoption paperwork, so long as Danny is fine with it.

---

Turns out, Danny is fine with it. he's both the newest Wayne and their newest case. (And godamnit, his new family is going to avenge him. If only he'd let them try.)

Danny figures out that Duke= Signal early on because of that dinner, and if he's going to keep his parents out of jail, he needs to be as close to the investigation as possible. He knows that he shouldn't protect the Fentons, but he feels the upset in his core at the thought of letting them befall any harm. He has to protect them. Has to protect Jazz and her hiding spot as a mole within their lab. Has to.

Even if it meant lying to his new family who loves him, and who he loves in equal return. Even if it means lying to The Bats.

---

Tabloids go crazy about the black-haired blue-eyed thing of course, but no poll was ever taken by the batfam or the JL who know the whole story.

[ghostlyarchaeologist]

Evolution of Eliot/Hardison hugs over the years.

And the one time that Eliot really needed a hug:

Leverage S02E08/S03E10/S04E01/S04E07/S04E10/S05E09/Leverage Redemption S01E16/S02E06.

[nhularin]

[꩜ .ᐟ WHAT..?] HEESEUNG X IDOL!READER

≽^•༚• ྀི≼ i was watching heeseung edits for three hours straight and went straight to my smau app idek what this is

[featherlouise]

The day I stop being afraid to draw wrinkles it's over for y'all

[poorly-drawn-mdzs]

Try Morse Core. Women Love Morse Code.

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[lovesickeros]

☆ even the gods bleed [ pt 3 ]

{☆} characters neuvillette, wriothesley, furina {☆} notes cult au, imposter au, multi-chapter, gender neutral reader {☆} warnings none {☆} word count 1.9k {☆} previous [ 1 ] [ 2 ]

Wriothesley was not a man of superstition. He did not kneel at the altars until his knees bled, he did not pray until his voice gave out– he did not, contrary to popular belief, suffer divine punishment for his apparent lack of respect.

After all, what Divine would look so deep beneath the waves just for a glimpse of the sinners that inhabit it?

Not them, evidently.

He hadn't slept in the past four days, though. There was a heavy air of something where ever he walked– it followed him like a thick fog, lingering and choking him until it dragged him to his knees like a chain. His thoughts inevitably linger on the striking, extravagant letter so conveniently adorning his desk at the fortress– the broken wax seal, the letter tucked into his pocket.

He'd recognize the seal of the Iudex any day. Wasn't often he spoke to him– but the shaky, distorted words hastily etched into the paper made him pause. Neuvillette always had a steady hand– elegant, flowing script that him of flowing water.

It had kept him up for days.

The implications were..haunting. He'd poured over the letter for hours, illuminated only by faint light of his desk lamp. Yet no matter how many times he tries to see what must be hidden beneath the ink, the paper itself even, he finds nothing but the shaky script of a request that sends a bolt of pure frost through his veins.

He noticed, of course, the odd goings on of Fontaine. He'd heard vague whispers of the Divine's hunt for the imposter– he'd heard, too, of the ceaseless rain pelting Fontaine until even he wondered if the nation would finally sink beneath the waves.

It didn't, though. And that only made it all the more odd. Days of constant rain, just for it to stop suddenly..he tugged his coat tighter around him, throwing up the hood of the cloak clasped even tighter over it with a grunt as he leaned around the corner of the alleyway.

He didn't believe in superstition, but this was too hard to ignore as a simple weather anomaly.

Maybe that was why he ignored his gut– he knew that this was probably a trap, at the very least it was suspicious. But damn it, he couldn't ignore the instinct to follow the only lead he had.

His boots clicked against the rain stricken streets as he stalked through the shadows, mindful of the clinking of machine patrols just a few streets away. Yet every step felt heavier then the last as he took a long, good look at the Palais Mermonia. He almost considered bringing out his gauntlets, but he thought better of it– if it came down to it, he needed information. And he would need whoever was waiting for him alive for that– the dead don't speak and all that.

The letter's directions led him in a..rather roundabout entrance to a secluded room, evidently, as he lifted his hand and quietly knocked against the door. Two rapid knocks, pause, another knock, pause, four knocks. It doesn't take long until he hears the latch of the door unlock.

The leather of his gloves creaks as he clenches his fists, adjusting his stance. He's ready for a fight, if he must, but as the door quietly slides open he feel the weight on his shoulders relax slightly– the familiar, sharp features of Neuvillette meets him. He almost reflexively smiles at the way his pupils turn into thin slits, a momentary surprise that he quickly hides well behind a cough and the creak of the door as he pulls it open fully.

"Wriothesley. I see my letter has found you well. Please, come in." Polite as ever, Neuvillette steps aside to let him in, but he can see the exhaustion lining his features– the bags under his eyes aren't as well hidden as he thinks, at least to him. "Bit odd to be inviting me all the way out here in the middle of the night, don't you think?"

His tone is smooth as he steps into the room, brushing down his hood and glancing at Neuvillette over his shoulder, watching as he shuts and locks the door behind him.

"I apologize for the..less then ideal circumstances, but I'm certain you will understand when you see for yourself." He wants to retort, but the Iudex beats him to it, vaguely motioning to the room behind him. An invitation– but he wonders if it's worth taking.

His gut says no, but he's feeling a little risky today, he supposes.

He turns back slowly, barely able to make out the two figures he'd missed on the first glance on the other side of the room– though it's hard to mistake the flourish of the Hydro Archon, even in the dark. It's the other figure that makes the breath hitch in his throat, though.

Or maybe, more accurately, it freezes. So does his blood, his whole body even, locked in stasis for a long, tense moment– he can't see them clearly, but his instincts are going haywire. He can feel his vision almost rattle where it rests against his left shoulder, cold leaking through the layers of clothes and into his skin until he has to fight to suppress a shiver.

He'd always fancied himself the hunter– he was the one who dealt with unsavory folks, in the end. But he felt like a rabbit pinned beneath the crosshairs of a gun this time. He could almost feel the teeth of the bear trap snapping shut around him, crushing bone and flesh beneath cold metal.

For a long moment he thinks he feels fear.

And with a sharp click and a burst of light, it's gone and he takes a raspy, choked breath as he blinks away the blurriness in his vision, taking in the room illuminated by the lamp.

He's not sure what he sees is better, though.

Because his body knows that their Divinity is as real as the blood running through his veins.

So why do they remind him so much of himself? Why does he see the look of the boy who died in a pool of blood not his own in them?

It is a sick, cruel kind of familiar.

Wriothesley didn't believe in superstition– but that was born of the unknown. He knew, now. He could reach out and touch the truth with his own two hands.

The throne of the world was a lie.

The thing sitting on it bled red. And if it bled, it could die.

He clenched his fists tighter– and released, letting his shoulders slump with a huff and a half hearted chuckle. "I wasn't expecting you to be in possession of a wanted criminal when you sent me that letter." He could see the gears whirring in their heads, the subtle dampness in the air reminding him just how delicate a situation it truly was.

He wasn't particularly inclined to getting blasted by a jet of water today.

"Relax, I'm not going to spill to anyone else. Seriously– don't get my jacket wet. It's expensive and a nightmare to dry." His lips quirk into a half smile, but it twists into something almost genuine at the laugh covered up by a cough he hears from the Divine. Bingo.

"It's fine, Neuvillette. Let him go." Their voice is like honey dripping from their lips, and he has to close his jaw with his hand before they can see the way it dropped in his surprise. "Of course, most Divine. My apologies." He relaxes at the sharp click of his heels as he joins them on the bed, his posture far more relaxed then he's ever seen. The Hydro Archon, much to his confusion and amusement, is far too invested in playing with their hair to pay much attention to him now that things have calmed, evidently.

Huh.

They seemed pretty cozy about it, he noted. He guesses they three of them had some time to get acquainted.

"So..who's going to explain what the hell is going on?" He probed, crossing his arms over his chest and watching the three carefully– they all looked tired, but even through the exhaustion neither seemed inclined to stray too far from the Divine. "And what exactly your plan is? You can't keep hiding them here forever. Someone will sniff them out sooner or later."

"We are aware," Neuvillette interjects, lips pursed into a thin line and his thin brows furrowed. "But as I'm sure you've noticed, the hunt for the..forgive me, most Divine, but the hunt for the alleged imposter is still at it's peak."

He grumbles in acknowledgment, hanging up his cloak by the door and sliding out of his heavy coat, resting it over the back of a nearby chair. "Hm. Suppose that's why the patrols are so common now a days."

"I'm afraid so. As you can imagine, we cannot simply ask them to..stop the search. It would draw unwanted attention and suspicion. The Divine would be found immediately if we tried to bring them out of the city at the moment." Neuvillette added, looking proper and elegant, despite the circumstances– even in the face of the Divine and the Archon turning on him and tugging his hair into intricate braids. "So I hope you understand that it was a great risk to send you that letter."

He rubs his chin, huffing in amusement– a solid plan, maybe, but his power didn't extend too far out of the Fortress. He had his connections, sure, but what use were they when he had to get the, uh, "imposter" out of Fontaine? Smuggling them out wouldn't be easy, and then there's the point of where to take them they'd have to contend with.

"Yeah, yeah– I get it. But it's not like I can just smuggle them out or keep them in the fortress. Even if we got them out of the city, we'd have to find somewhere to bunker down, and if someone spots any of us lingering there.." Archons, what a mess he'd gotten himself into. He was really looking forward to the next time he could kick his feet up with a cup of tea.

"I understand. I have already made plans, in fact." Neuvillette hesitates, and he can feel the temperature drops a few degrees. "I..cannot share them in full at the moment, but it is not for a lack of trust." Neuvillette reasoned, hands folded neatly in his lap– not that it hid the way they shook slightly. He wanted to ask, but he thought better of it.

"Eh, I don't hold it against you. The walls have ears, even up here." He deflected, running a hand through his hair. He really hoped Sigewinne wouldn't ask too much when he gets back. "I trust your judgment." He hesitates for a long moment, pulling out a simple, neatly folded letter of his own.

"Memorize the code words, then burn it. I'll be waiting for your next letter." He murmurs, plucking his coat and cloak and tugging them back on one after another, shuffling back over to the latched door. He hesitates again, his hand lingering on the door.

"I just hope your plan is worth the risk, Neuvillette."

He leaves before he can respond, the harsh click of the door ringing in his ears even as he steps back into the shadows of the night.

[zgvlt]

hi 😁

[bun-lapin]

TWST Voice Line Scene #21

♦️Cater: Ok~! Now you press this button here and you're all set!

🐲Malleus: …. (very slowly taps on the phone in his hand)

🦐Yuu: (walks up to them) Hey guys! What are you doing?

♦️Cater: Heya, Yuu~! I'm helping Malleus set up a Magicam account for his gargoyle pics.

🐲Malleus: Diamond! A strange symbol has suddenly appeared on my screen. (shows Cater the phone)

♦️Cater: Hmm? Oh nice~! That symbol means someone liked your post! You even got a few shares already too! (winks at Malleus) Look at you! You're already a Magicam pro~!

🐲Malleus: (smiles smugly at Cater) So this is the fruit of dedicated study. Heh. Something has changed within me. Perhaps it's time for me to reevaluate my opinion of you.

♦️Cater: (awkwardly laughs) Uhh… thanks?? What was your opinion of me before?? Sounds like it was kinda low~!

🐲Malleus: ….....

♦️Cater: ….Ouch.

🦐Yuu: (silently dying from laughter in the background)

TWST Voice Line Scenes Masterlist

[bluerosefox]

A Little Robin

Has this been thought of before? (If so someone please, please send me it. I wanna read)

Either due to something his parents made to catch ghosts or some kind of new "I'm gonna end Jack but my soon to be step-son needs to be out of the way" plan by Vlad, Danny (as Phantom) gets trapped in a doll, a bird(robin) doll/plushy.

Somehow, someway the doll get sold or sent to Gotham and is picked up by Dick one day while shopping who decides to give the doll to one of his brothers (or Steph cause she was a Robin as well -slides on mutli-shipper shades- I'm not picky) cause it's Dick trying to be funny. (Or he keeps it cause it's a Robin plush)

Danny, whose slowly regaining his powers even in plush form (maybe whatever got him stuck in the plush is wearing off over time, not enough that he can get out though), is trying very hard to get back home (he tired mailing himself once but someone almost caught him moving about, let's go with like Toy Story rules). He doesn't want to get caught in Gotham cause of the bats, when he finds out his 'owner' is part of the batfam he REALLY doesn't want to get caught. Cue many moments of Danny trying to get his way home under the radar.

And... he tries very hard not to crush on his 'owner' too as well...

[liyev]

“baby,” you watch brown eyes blink at notes splayed neatly across your desk turn, blink again, then focus solely on you. “would you love me if i was a worm?”

the expression that appears on kita’s face is one of confusion, and you already have an idea of what (slightly stupefied) query would begin to leave his wondering mind.

“how would you become a worm in the first place, love?” he asks, lips quirking into a line of thought as he assesses your question. “do you need a logical answer or one that stems from fondness?”

“the logical answer first, then the fond one.”

“well..” he sets aside the pen in his hand, shifting in his seat to fully face your curious figure. “i don’t think you would be transformed into a worm with today’s technology or science, so i’m afraid i can’t exactly say anything concrete if i would love, have you been turned into a worm.”

the man’s gaze flickers from your eyes to the minute pout forming on your lips, giving you an adoring smile; his following words shifting to take on a softer, more amused timbre.

“however,” your head perks up, pout immediately replaced by an intrigued part of your lips, “i would love you if i knew it was still you, no matter how you came to be.”

©️ LIYEV 2024 — do not repost/translate/steal/feed my works into ai.

[mxxnlightwriting]

reminder that more often than not, it's important to take breaks from writing instead of forcing yourself through it. listen to your body and intuition.

i say this as someone who writes almost every day. sometimes, that isn't sustainable. sometimes, you need to take breaks from your projects because you're tired from working on them. i have to admit that understanding when to stop and take a break is a skill in itself, but with time, you will master it. you've got this. if not today, then tomorrow.

today, you rest. tomorrow, if you feel like writing, great! if not, rest a bit more. you know yourself better than anyone else. so trust yourself to know when to get back into writing. and don't punish yourself for not doing it.

[sprimps]

they're thinking about very different things

[polin-erospsyche]

I know it’s not the point but also this shot has me dying in laughter

Baby Thomas Elliot Bridgerton, Lord Featherington, just looks so unimpressed by his mama’s writing. This baby has just been born and already he’s a literary critic and thinks he can do so much better. He’s going to cause so much mayhem of his own one day to which Pen will just sigh inwardly, wondering what they’ve put out there in the world and Colin will just stand there all proud thinking “that’s my son” 😂

[snailsnaps]

y/n needs to go back work