#The bat is unhurt

[loveisinthebat]

Captured , For SCIENCE!

[mokulule]

While I fail to focus after my night shift have a peek at another of my brain worms

Untitled, I am still waiting for that moment of divine inspiration. Ship: Dead on Main (Danny/Jason)  Fandom: DP x DC 

The only sounds in the Batcave were the bats chittering amongst themselves high above. Bruce rubbed his chin absently as he took in the information displayed on the large screens with narrowed eyes. Something wasn’t adding up. Somebody was lying.

No matter how many times he looked over the information, that was his conclusion. It nagged at him that he didn’t know what, if any, information he could use. He hated being so in the dark. 

A silent notification in the corner of his screen alerted him to a call from the Watchtower. He took it and Superman’s face appeared in a smaller rectangle on the center of the screen. Bruce kept outwardly placid but from behind the cowl nobody would see the way his gaze instantly zeroed in on the massive black eye Superman had acquired, and the general strain around his unhurt eye and mouth. He was worn out. 

“Phantom has been apprehended,” Superman said with a long sigh. It had clearly not been an easy fight. 

“I’ll be there,” Batman said and ended the call. Maybe they’d finally get some real answers. 

He stood and walked towards the zeta tube. Another call came in, this time on the comm in his cowl. 

“Hood,” he greeted.

“Hey, old man. I’m at the location. You were right it’s absolutely crawling with the white suits and their weaponry is not like anything I’ve seen before.”

Bruce felt like a hand squeezed his heart. Hood out of anyone knew his weapons, if he didn’t know them they weren’t on the market. He absolutely hated asking any of his kids to walk into an unknown situation. Unfortunately he didn’t have any other options. 

“Be careful, Hood.”

“Aww, is that worry I detect?”

“Just don’t take unnecessary risks,” Bruce cautioned.

“You wouldn’t have asked me if you didn’t think it was necessary, old man. Don’t worry, I’ll get you your intel.”

Bruce grunted. Jason was right. He wouldn’t have asked if he didn’t think it was important. Didn’t mean he had to like it, nor the fact that Red Hood’s criminal reputation made him perfect for breaking into a government building; even if Hood was seen the Justice League kept plausible deniability. 

Everyone knew Red Hood was a wild card. 

“Check in regularly with Oracle.”

He could practically feel the way Jason rolled his eyes at him.

“Not my first rodeo, B.”

With that the connection cut off. Bruce couldn’t help the bad feeling he had about everything. 

He really hated this stage of an investigation. 

Two months ago the US government contacted the Justice League about a problem. Several bases of a government agency named the GIW had been hit by a malicious creature they called Phantom. The attacks had been gaining in severity and frequency and their measures had so far failed to stop it. 

Since then, a member of the Justice League had arrived too late to five such attacks. They’d stood no chance against Phantom, who’d then disappeared, living up to the name.

To their eyes Phantom was outwardly a humanoid, possibly a meta or alien. The GIW called him a ghost from a different dimension.

They had been at a loss of how exactly to contain such a powerful foe, who not only could go toe to toe with their heavy hitters like Superman, but also disappear by means unknown. This time they’d been prepared. They’d had various team configurations ready to go depending on who was available. 

Something that seemed to have paid off, but Bruce did not like that Clark was injured. Because if Clark was injured…

A zeta tube ride later and he met Superman on the Watchtower. Something that hadn’t been apparent on the call was the sling Superman’s left arm was in. Another visible injury added to the swollen eye. 

“Is everyone alright?” He had to ask.

“Nobody’s permanently hurt.” Clark hurried to assure as they started walking towards the interrogation room, but there was a but. Bruce kept his stare steady until Clark tiredly elaborated: “But nobody got out the fight unscathed. John won’t be walking for a while. J’onn is suffering from psychic backlash. Diana has some broken ribs and scrapes and you can see my own wounds. Everyone is tired, it was a long fight.”

Batman’s lips thinned. At least there had been no casualties. 

Almost as if reading his mind. Superman added quietly. 

“We got there while the base was still standing. Phantom made eye contact with me for a moment, before he unleashed this… sonic attack…” His face turned pained, as he looked for words that came halting. “It was a scream, I can’t describe it, it felt- it felt like I was dying. None of us could get close.”

Superman looked away.

“When it was over the base was gone, eradicated, like the others. There was just a large crater. Who knows how many people were still in there.”

Bruce set a hand on his friend’s shoulder. It was never easy to deal with casualties. 

“The one good thing about it was that the scream seemed to drain quite a bit of energy from him.” Clark barked a laugh, short and hysterical. Bruce knew Clark would have rather faced Phantom at full power if it meant more people had lived. 

“And still it was all we could do to subdue him. We barely won.”

They barely won. Superman, Wonder Woman, Green Lantern and Martian Manhunter, and they barely won. The knowledge sat like a heavy ball in Bruce’s chest. 

Now, maybe they could get intel that wasn’t most reluctantly handed over by a government agency, that didn’t even want to reveal what their alphabet soup name was an abbreviation of. “We had to turn off the ‘Ghost Shield’ to get Phantom inside the base, so we at least know it works, even if for some reason it doesn’t protect the GIW bases,” Superman remarked.  

Bruce hnn’ed to show he’d heard. It was one more discrepancy among many.

Batman entered the observation room with Superman at his back. Wonder Woman was there and he quickly took in her unusually disheveled appearance, she looked tired and uncomfortable, shaken (but whole, safe). He nodded in greeting and she gave him a tight smile in return. He turned to the observation window and felt his breath stick in his throat.

Phantom was- 

The glitchy footage they’d managed to get on earlier encounters couldn’t have prepared him. Bruce felt his jaw clench. Phantom looked young. There was still a hint of baby fat stubbornly clinging to his cheeks. He was short and wiry like Tim but maybe a bit younger than Jason, technically an adult, but to Bruce he still looked painfully young. The overall glowing and the slowly seeping green wound at his hairline didn’t take away just how human he looked. 

Bruce looked at Phantom and saw a kid. Worse, supposedly a dead kid, a ghost, if the most basic of their intel was to be believed, which even that he wasn’t entirely sure of.

A weight was heavy on his shoulders. He had to remind himself that he had found evidence of Phantom throughout history and if a ghost was truly what he was, he was most likely a very old, very powerful spirit, for whom age didn’t matter. It would be a mistake to trust the youthful appearance. 

He was chained to the chair both by wide cuffs at his wrists and ankles so he could only move very little. The cuffs were the best they had when it came to meta power suppression cuffs with some added ghost specific sigils courtesy of Zatanna’s research. She would have liked Constantine to look them over too as that sort of thing was more his area of expertise, but he’d been off on one of his extra-dimensional missions since long before this started and they hadn’t been able to contact him. 

The cuffs kept Phantom here in any case and he didn’t look happy about it. His lips were a flat line and the thick black brows were drawn together over narrowed green eyes. His head was held high (stubbornness? Pride?), chin tilted in a way that showed off a bright green-purple line around his throat, which had it been red and on a human would have looked like rope burn-

Bruce looked to Diana and he suddenly understood part of her discomfort.

“He was about to use another sonic attack, I didn’t see any other way.” Her words were quiet, regretful, but she faced his gaze head on. Bruce nodded. She never would have used the lasso like that under normal circumstances. It was incredibly worrying how much it had taken to subdue him. 

For a moment the three of them just stood there in silence, watching Phantom watch the door.

It was finally time for answers. 

Bruce didn’t make any outward sign that he was about to move, but of course Clark caught on even before he’d moved, stepping aside letting Bruce take point. They went into the interrogation room, Diana staying back to observe and be ready with security measures, they didn’t know for sure would even work.

They entered the room and immediately sharp green eyes locked onto him. There was a quick glance towards Superman, but the eyes quickly focused back on Batman. There was a calculating sort of intelligence behind those eyes. 

That was one question immediately answered, but it was one he could have inferred. It was very hard to believe the claim that this “ghost” was non-sentient, when he specifically targeted the bases of a specific government agency and nothing else. Though of course they could have had something that attracted the ghost, but nobody could look at Phantom and think non sentient. 

Now the question was, why?

Bruce sat down in one of the chairs on the other side of the table from Phantom. Clark had a moment’s pause before he joined them. Bruce pulled out a tablet from underneath his cape and laid it carefully out on the table, turning it on. At this point most people in the room with the Batman would have started getting nervous, but evidently not Phantom. He was still just passively defiant, not to mention he hadn’t yet said a word.

“Phantom, is that your preferred manner of address?” Bruce decided to start out neutral. 

There was a glitter of amusement in green eyes and the barest uptick of his lips, but he remained silent. Bruce could do silence. 

The silence stretched between them until Clark broke it.

“Why do you destroy those bases?”

Phantom glanced to Clark and his earnest question, then back to Bruce, barely raising an eyebrow, like as if to say “really, this the best you can do?” Bruce resisted the urge to sigh. Clark was usually a better foil for him at interrogations, but then most people didn’t choose total silence.

Bruce decided to be frank with him.

“We are trying to understand your motivation. That’s all.” He studied Phantom’s face which had settled into a stony glare. “But first I’d just like to know if it’s alright to call you Phantom and what your pronouns are? We have been using he/him based on your appearance but you might have another preference?”

The glare softened a bit and for a moment Bruce actually thought he’d lured a response out of him, but Phantom just looked away. Incidentally drawing attention to the line at his throat. A sudden thought occurred to him.

“Are you so hurt, that you’re unable to speak?”

Phantom slowly looked back at him. He seemed to actually be contemplating giving some sort of answer.

That’s when his comm clicked on barely audible.

“The GIW has been in contact,” Diana informed him quietly over the comms. Phantom stiffened across from him, his gaze narrowing like a cat - so they could add enhanced hearing to his powers. “They are requesting we hand over Phantom.”

Bruce looked straight at Phantom as he spoke, “They have no jurisdiction in space. I presume you declined?”

“Of course.”

Phantom’s face turned unreadable for a moment. His gaze went from him, to Superman and the opaque glass that hid the observation room. Finally he huffed. 

“Phantom, he/him is fine.” His voice had an echoey quality to it. 

It seemed they were finally going somewhere. 

-

They were not going somewhere. 

Even hours later Phantom kept up his silence. They’d held several breaks. Phantom had been offered food and water but had declined nonverbally. 

They were going in circles, trying the same questions again and again. Prolonged silence didn’t help any either. 

If only J’onn was an option, but he was already suffering from psychic backlash from trying to go into Phantom’s mind during the fight. 

So far the only things Bruce could add to the certain facts were that Phantom was sentient, intelligent and didn’t like the GIW to the point that he would commit mass murder to take them down. 

And Bruce would just really like to know why? Because with the kinds of powers he’d shown off he could have easily killed the members of the Justice League sent to apprehend him. He seemed to have no qualms about killing, yet he’d stayed his hands?

Bruce had hoped that meant Phantom considered them at least somewhat neutral in this conflict. But apparently not neutral enough to talk to. 

Clark had tried and Diana had tried. Nothing helped. 

Bruce was considering his options, when the door opened. 

“B, I need to speak with you.” That was Tim, he looked pale. Something had happened. Bruce got up, Clark following. Bruce decidedly ignored the sudden curiosity from Phantom. They closed the door and walked down the hall. When Bruce felt they were far enough from Phantom he stopped.

“Red Robin, report.”

“We’ve lost contact with Hood.”

Bruce’s heart dropped cold into his stomach. No. It couldn’t be. 

“When?”

“Two hours ago is when he last checked in. He’s since missed several check-ins.” Tim’s hands tightened into fists at his sides. “Could be he’s just not in a position to respond, or they have scramblers in the base.”

It was likely, in fact very likely that was the case with how secretive the GIW were being, but two hours were a long time to miss check-ins. Clark’s hand landed on his shoulder which he only now realized how tense was, but no, now was not the time to relax or calm down. He shrugged Clark’s hand off and stalked back down the hall.

The GIW were mum about any details. There was only one person who could tell them what Jason was facing in that building.

He burst into the interrogation room and slammed his hands on the table. That got Phantom’s attention his eyes widening before narrowing and his lips splitting in a snarl that showed off fangs, but Bruce sneered right back.

“We lost contact with an agent sent to infiltrate a GIW-base, you will tell me what you know about them, or so help me I will make you wish you stayed in that dimension you came from.”

“Batman, please, maybe you should step out-“ Clark began good hand hovering shy of Bruce, but he was interrupted by the bark of laughter coming from Phantom.

And then he laughed and laughed and laughed. 

Bruce punched him. Clark pulled him back. 

Phantom slowly turned his head back to look at them, working his jaw. 

“There we have it after all. Your true colors: attacking a chained up captive.” He wiggled his fingers drawing attention to the wide thick cuffs dwarfing his wrists. His eyes held only cold judgment. “But don’t worry, Batman, your agent has nothing to fear from the GIW unless they are dead.”

Bruce couldn’t help the flinch and he felt Clark do the same. Something in the very air stilled then, making it hard to breathe. 

“You,” Phantom began standing up, right out of the restraints as if they weren’t there, “are going to explain to me what that reaction means…“ He carefully put his hands down on the table and leaned forward in a way that made it very apparent he was holding himself back. He glared holes into Bruce’s skull with blazing green eyes. “Unless you want your agent back in pieces.”

-

Psssst. this is actually the beginning of the fic where this is from (CW: relatively graphic aftermath of vivisection)

So basically Phantom is public enemy number one, or at least top of the US government and GIW's shit list XD Huh, "Wanted: Dead or Alive", might actually be a pretty fun title, what do you guys think?

[trashpandato]

Desk

“Would it really be too much to ask for one day, one single day, where you don’t put yourself in harm’s way?”

Lena startles. She knew Kara would show up to check on her, had expected some fussing. What she did not expect was to see Kara storming into her office, her voice hard and angry. 

“I’m fine, Kara. Nothing happened.”

Lena tries to sound calm, but the effect of her words is undermined by the crunch of glass under her shoes as she approaches Kara.

It had been a productive morning at work, nothing out of the ordinary, up until the point when a confused middle-aged man barged in with a baseball bat and smashed Lena’s office to pieces. He had overpowered the security guards downstairs and then Jess, managed to destroy Lena’s bar, including the nice new decanter Alex had got her for her birthday, and a few lamps before Lena had subdued him with a good dose of pepper spray.

“This doesn’t look like nothing,” Kara grinds out, her jaw clenched.

Lena can see that behind the anger, Kara’s eyes are full of worry. She decides it’s time to show Kara that she’s okay, healthy, unhurt.

She reaches out and takes both of Kara’s hands in hers, pulls her over to the chair in front of her desk and pushes her down to sit before she settles down on Kara’s lap, straddling her.

“Darling. I’m fine. See?” Lena lifts one of Kara’s hands and puts it right above her heart, letting Kara feel her heartbeat.

Kara lets out a shuddering breath.

“I just, why did you have to put out that press release? You knew it would make people angry.”

Lena sighs. “You know I couldn’t just ignore the latest news about Lex. If I had said nothing, people would have been angry, too.”

There’s a huff but not much else and Lena can still feel how tense Kara is. She knows that deep down, this isn’t about the press release, that Kara understands why she had to do it. It’s much more about the fact that Kara wasn’t around when the attack happened, and about the fact that Kara knows this sort of thing is going to happen again. It’s Lena’s reality, and Lena knows how much Kara hates it.

Lena decides that maybe it’s time to distract them both. She moves her hand that is still pushing Kara’s palm against her heart, maneuvers Kara’s hand lower until it is cupping her breast. At the same time, she leans forward to press a soft kiss just under Kara’s ear.

Lena thinks her new tactic is working when she hears a small gasp, feels Kara squirm a little under her.

But then there’s a loud crack.

When Lena turns toward the source of the noise, she sees Kara’s other hand pressed against her desk, the surface warped and splintered where Kara’s fingers are. She glances back at Kara, who is blushing furiously.

“You know,” Lena purrs, “I always figured you would break this desk one day.”

[artiststarme]

See You Later, Big Brother

Well @hannahhook7744, your prompt is distracting me at work, I hope you like it!

~*~*~*~

Steve was never very close to his brother. With ten years between them and too little hobbies shared, their relationship seemed more forced than voluntary. Even still though, they were family. Steve knew that if he needed him, Phil would be there to help (as seen in the many times he looked the other way with Steve’s speeding and horrible driving). 

That’s why it hurt so horrendously when he found out that Phil had died in the earthquakes. 

Steve felt numb. Frozen. Dead inside and the most alone he’d ever been. His only family, besides his parents that had moved away without ever looking back, was dead. Never again would Phil pull him over for speeding and let him go with exasperated threats. Never would they silently eat burgers across from each other in a small diner booth while sipping on butterscotch milkshakes they both denied were their favorite. And never again would they talk about boys or girls with stuttered pronouns and nervous glances searching for the other’s acceptance. 

What hurt even worse though was the loss of what they could’ve been. Phil had seen him as a bratty kid, King Steve, and the traumatized version of himself that he was after the Upside Down. But he would never see him as an adult, as someone he could be proud of. They wouldn’t get a chance to grow closer or become proper brothers in a status they never quite reached. 

Perhaps worst of all was what Phil could’ve been thinking when his patrol car fell into the fiery cracks in the earth. Did he know that Steve loved him? That he looked up to him as a role model? That he loved having him as a brother? Steve didn’t tell him any of that enough, never showed his appreciation, and he sure regretted that now. And now Steve wouldn’t get the chance to tell him. Nor would he have a chance to apologize for all the harsh words he spewed at Phil during their last fight. He wouldn’t get to tell him that he didn’t mean anything he’d shouted at him. Steve would never get to make it up to him or earn his forgiveness. 

No, now Steve had to live with the fear that his older brother died alone, in pain, and thinking he hated him. 

He spent the next week recovering from the bat bites on his sides, avoiding probing questions from the Party, and visiting the comatose Max in the hospital. He knew better than anyone how she felt now. If Vecna was still around, he would target Steve and feast on the pain suffocating him. An all-consuming pain only someone who’d lost a sibling could feel. More than ever, Steve wished that Max was awake, unhurt, and present. She would understand Steve’s feelings of turmoil of losing Phil much like she did with losing Billy. Even as he begged her from her bedside though to awaken, she stayed frozen with her eyes closed tight. 

She would die just days later. 

Steve had to plan two funerals just two days apart. One for his estranged brother and one for the girl he saw as his sister. He didn’t cry at either. His eyes were far too dry from crying so much in the privacy of his crypt of a home to spare any tears in the light of day. 

He would grieve his family, his blood brother and the sister he’d adopted. He would watch the youthfulness and innocence of the kids melt away in their grief. Eventually though, Steve would move forward although the scars, just like the divots in this sides and the silvery line encircling his throat, would remain as a reminder of the pain he had to suffer all too young. 

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[dark-elf-writes]

Todoroki watching as Lambo wonders into kitchen while Tsuna makes them both tea.

Todoroki freezing when the kid tugs a bit too hard on Tsuna’s shirt and the kettle drops twords his face.

Him only feeling capable of moving well after Tsuna lit his hand on fire and slapped the kettle into the wall and away from Lambo who’s now attempting to climb up Tsuna’s back, seemingly unaware of what could have happened

It happens so fast.

It’s weird to think that when the memory of the “incident” that caused his own scar seems to be etched in his mind in agonizingly slow motion, but in reality it only takes a handful of seconds from start to finish.

Tsuna was laughing as he makes tea for the both of them, respectfully across the room after he had caught the wince Shouto couldn’t hide the last time the kettle came to close to him, he had been telling some story about their family when Lambo came in whining about how he was hungry and wanted a snack.

A little hand threaded in the back of Tsuna’s shirt, yanking hard and pulling him off balance.

The hand holding the kettle slipped.

For one impossible second it seemed to hang there tipping towards Lambo’s unsuspecting face. Shouto could feel the heat of his own face. Could hear screams in his ears. Could remember the scent of his skin burning.

Then a hand covered in orange flames was batting it aside so hard that it was half embedded in the wall on the far side of the kitchen.

Tsuna’s eyes, more orange than brown with his quirk, were wide as he scooped Lambo up, holding the oblivious and squirming child close with a shaky breath.

“God, Lambo haven’t we told you not to play around by the stove!?” Tsuna’s voice cracked with the stress.

Lambo blinked. Eyes as wide and clueless as the cows he loved to dress as. “I forgot.”

Shouto dropped his head into his hands and let out a sound that even he wasn’t sure was a laugh or a sob. An arm was around his shoulders a moment later, with Tsuna’s warmth pressed against his side and Lambo’s squirming and unhurt body pressed between them as he wined about weird older brothers having cooties.

Finally, Shouto realized what he had been missing for all of these years in his father house with the ghost of of his brother haunting every room and phantom pains plaguing him every time he walked by the kitchen.

He had been missing a home.

[thatgirlonstage]

YESSS mermay time!!!

How about some BingQiu, prompt word: control?

(I don't think you've ever written BingQiu? so if you don't feel up to it no worries <3)

This didn't end up super shippy except in that they're canon endgame but I would definitely take prompts to keep playing in this particular universe if you're interested in reading them :eyes:

——

Shen Qingqiu had no excuse for being unprepared when Luo Binghe’s voice started to change. He’d reread that chapter more than almost any other, after all. It was one of the reasons he couldn’t quit that stupid novel, those rare shining gems where Airplane forgot about wife plots and pleasing his audience and those hints of a fascinating world and layered characters actually came through and Airplane’s writing was almost—dare he admit it?—good. He knew the exact circumstances leading up to it down to the last detail: the early morning drill interrupted by a summer squall, the disciples all crammed into a nearby shallow cave, waiting for the worst of the downpour to pass, the bat that would frighten Ning Yingying, the way Luo Binghe, silent and shrunken into the back until this moment, doing his best to attract neither his fellow students’ nor his teacher’s wrath, would attempt to offer her a word of comfort. The way his voice, in the effort to stay quiet, would for the first time slide those couple extra notes lower in register, out of a childish tenor and into his own timbre. With that drop in tone would come something else: a weaving, shifting magic that would strike Ning Yingying dumb, that would turn his reassurance that she should be calm into an irresistible command. It would be several more years, of course before anyone figured out precisely what was happening, and several years beyond that before the original goods had dug up an answer to what this phenomenon was and named it: siren song.

No, Shen Qingqiu had no excuse for being surprised. He had already spent the past year—since almost the moment he arrived—piecing together the correct meditations, qi guards, and strange concoctions to be ready to help Luo Binghe control his voice from the start, and let his disciples protect themselves against it if he slipped, pleading and wheedling the System all the while. He knew it would be this summer, when Luo Binghe was fifteen. He didn’t know precisely what day only because Airplane hadn’t bothered to name one. That was fine, though: he just had to watch for the squall.

He had no excuse for being surprised, except for two things. One, he forgot to account for the fact that in this timeline, Luo Binghe brought him breakfast in the morning, and Shen Qingqiu would be the first to hear him speak that day. Two, Airplane’s novel had not come with audio samples and dammit the System must be taking liberties because even Airplane’s best efforts at prose had not done this justice.

“Teacher? Teacher!”

Luo Binghe’s voice, cracked with fright until it was high and boyish once again, cut through the haze of Shen Qingqiu’s mind. He blinked his way back into his body and discovered he was on the floor. Luo Binghe crouched over him, eyes wide with alarm.

“Teacher, are you alright? I just said I hoped you were having a good morning and—”

Shen Qingqiu reached up and clapped a hand over Luo Binghe’s mouth, arresting his speech. Luo Binghe startled but fell quiet, his eyes wide as saucers above Shen Qingqiu’s hand.

“Your voice,” Shen Qingqiu said. The words came out hoarse and unsteady. “It’s— I think you might be, uh, cursed,” he invented wildly. “Don’t speak.”

Eyes growing somehow even wider, Luo Binghe nodded. Shen Qingqiu slowly removed his hand and tried to give him a reassuring smile.

“Don’t worry, Bing-ge. This one is unhurt. We will find a solution for whatever has happened to your voice too— to cure it, or control it.”

Luo Binghe opened his mouth, remembered to be silent, snapped it closed, and bowed deeply. Shen Qingqiu climbed to his feet and patted him awkwardly on the head.

“Stay there for the moment,” he said. “I’m going to let the other disciples know our exercise is canceled for today. I suspect we’re going to get rained out.”

[bornoflegends]

@xinchargeofthetvax liked for a starter with Mallory Mobius

Mallory didn't know exactly what she had imagined the TVA to look like when her dads told her stories about how they met, but a vaguely retro office building was not exactly what she had in mind.

People seemed too busy running around to pay her much attention, so Mallory quickly changed her clothes using her magic to match the female presenting office workers, business casual and khaki, yuck!

And fell into the hustle and bustle of the TVA without anyone batting an eye.

Granted she had no idea where she was going, but Mallory wasn't too concerned looking for anything that might help her find her dads or save her world.

What she didn't expect was a familiar face to appear in the crowd.

The emotional gut punch of seeing her dad talking to someone she didn't recognize, seemingly unhurt was unexpected.

Stealing a stack of papers off an empty desk, Mallory tried to get closer to her dad without drawing attention to herself.

She was feeling a whirlwind of emotions, and wasn't paying attention to how close to her dad she was getting until she noticed the person her dad was talking to was looking right at her.

"Uh... hi?"

[weresilver]

Now here's to a POV change. The more I write the more I think it's going to take ages to get to the actual point of this fic. Enjoy!

[Part 1] – [Part 3] – [Part 5]

@madaboutmunson @lamburrito @benjaminrussell @xxfiction-is-my-realityxx @dijkstraspath @swiftiebuckleys @spectrum-spectre [Let me know if you want to be tagged!]

Pin a String to My Chest – 4

The immediate aftermath

What the fuck was Eddie thinking?!

This was. It just—

He wasn't sure what to think. Eddie had just stopped responding, and Dustin wanted to be angry at him for cutting the rope, for turning back around on his own.

But he kind of got why he did. The bats were too close to the gate. He just wished they had talked about it, come up with a plan, so Eddie hadn't become a bat chew toy.

He was trying really hard to ignore the blood on his hands.

He wasn't sure how much time passed, for how long he was uselessly pressing against a wound — or where he thought a wound might be, there was too much blood.

Eddie was already gone, wasn't he? He wasn't talking, there might be more blood out than in, and was he even breathing? Dustin couldn't tell, he refused to move his hands from Eddie's side, and his vision was blurry with tears he wasn't supposed to be shedding because Eddie wasn't supposed to have turned back around!

Well, at least there was the anger he wanted to be feeling instead. It was better. He thought it was better than the rest of his feelings at the moment.

The silence Dustin had barely acknowledged was broken by laughter. Two or three voices talking in the distance, confident that nothing was going to attack them right now.

He had forgotten, or at the very least ignored, the countless demobats surrounding Eddie. Some unhurt, but still unmoving. Dead. It was… Was it over?

"Hey!" The voices trailed off at his shout. He wasn't sure where they were, but most noises were loud right now. "Steve?!"

He didn't expect a clear reply, they were too far away. But he heard footsteps.

While looking around, trying to see the spot the Vecna Slaying Team was supposed to come through, Dustin noticed that even the vines were not moving anymore.

There was no red lightning.

"Dustin?" Steve called, coming from the other side of the trailer. He froze, just for a second, before running toward them with renewed vigor and dropping next to Eddie. "What the fuck happened?"

"The... The bats," Dustin started, watching as Steve looked Eddie over. He took a deep breath, trying to get the words out.  "They were coming in through the vents." He could see Steve's head snap up to look at him, and it seemed that Nancy and Robin had tensed behind Steve. "He—He cut the rope." He cleared his throat, drew in another deep breath.

Nancy said something to Robin, and then she was off, running into the trailer.

"Dustin—"

"He made me climb," he continued, ignoring Steve. "Then he went and cut the rope." At some other point in time, Dustin might have felt bad for finishing the destruction of Eddie's Hellfire shirt. Right now, he couldn't let go, gripping the fabric rather than putting pressure in any wound. "He turned back, Steve, and lured the bats away from the gate."

The cycle of emotions on Steve's face was hard to parse through with the tears, but it seemed to settle on understanding and sympathy.

It really wasn't a mix he wanted right now.

"Henderson," Steve called softly, lightly keeping a hand on Eddie's chest. "I need you to let go."

He was shaking his head before he even processed every word. He knew what was coming, and he refused.

"I'm not—"

"Here!" Robin exclaimed, almost tossing the remains of the rope at Nancy and Steve once she reached them. "I grabbed the half he cut, they looked the cleanest, and I figured we could remake the rope from this side instead of using Upside Down stuff for bandages."

"Thanks," Steve told her, smiling slightly at her rambling. He turned to Dustin, face serious once more. "Henderson, I need you to let go. You and Robin need to figure a way to get us out," he said pointedly, "While Nancy and I bandage him."

Dustin would never admit that it took a moment for Steve's words to sink in, but once they did, he was up and, well, hobbling his way toward the trailer.

Eddie was still alive. Barely, he was sure, but he wasn't gone. That's what mattered right now. He would need to be taken to the hospital right away, but he was a wanted man… He hoped medical care took precedent.

Robin stayed behind him, making sure he didn't fall along the way. He'd complain about it, about Robin not running ahead to get started on that second rope, but as it stood, he did kind of need the help.

Hopefully, he would never have to jump up-down through a ceiling again. His ankle fucking hurt.

They reached the trailer in silence, and then things became a blur. Robin grabbed the Upside Down version of sheets per his directions. Dustin tried to move what he could to create makeshift stairs. Steve and Nancy ran inside, Eddie on Steve's back.

The gate began shrinking.

Robin went through first, then Nancy ushered him to climb the stairs he'd made before grabbing the rope close to the ceiling.

His ankle fucking hurt.

Then Nancy was through. Steve made it up-down the same way Dustin had, but he let himself fall face first onto the mattress lest Eddie be crushed under him.

It was only at the RV that Dustin thought, no one wanted to leave Eddie behind. He was fully part of the party.

[stregoniconiconii]

Robin gets Steve to show her that move he uses on his dates when he takes them golfing because he swears it works for him every time and so he puts his arms around her “showing” her how to swing the club and she’s fake swooning and being annoying and he’s just rolling his eyes and it plays out like one big “moments before disaster” thing because as soon as they actually swing Robin knocks the back of her head into Steve’s nose while trying to follow the ball. He complains about still having to pay for dinner when she broke his face (It probably won’t even bruise that much).

lmaoooo yeah I love that i can also see him going "okay now try it on me you know practice for ur lady loves" so she does the same for him and it's very sweet and robin's nose remains unhurt by steve's beautiful gigantic head and he just goes "see that's how ur meant to act pls do not bodily harm ur dates by head butting them" I think they also do this at like the batting cages. I feel like they find these sort of friend dates hilarious lol

[arjaandsimoni]

Cold Blooded

Thiruvangad Sree Ramaswami Temple, Thalassery India, 2:30 AM

The temple was closed now, the priests having finished their duties and gone to their rest for the evening. It was dark inside, the lights drawn low. The floors had been swept, the statues polished and cleaned, all that was left now was to sleep until it was time to open their doors to the faithful the next day.

But someone in the temple wasn’t asleep… through the temple crept a man. He wasn’t exactly dressed for stealth, wearing a tacky suit and dress shoes, but a jangle from his wrists showed a charm bracelet with several things to ensure he would go unnoticed. To any of the night watchmen who walked past him, they would see maybe the barest of shadows, if they saw anything at all.

He slipped through the darkness, heading down towards the safe where the temple’s treasures were housed, and looked at it. “Hmm… right…” he nodded, reaching into his jacket and taking out something rather disturbing looking indeed.

A severed human hand, covered in wax with a wick at the end of each fingertip. He struck a match on the wall and lit them one by one, then pointed it at the safe. There was a thunk, and the metal door swung open as easily as anything… and seated inside were several things.

The temple’s savings kept there for any needed repairs or renovations, several historical artifacts of great import to the followers of Vishnu, and a single wooden arrow with a tip made of some strange metal.

The man grinned, “Ka-ching!” he laughed, reaching in to pick it up… and as soon as he did the flames on the candle blew out all at once and his charm bracelet fell apart! “Huh?! What?!” he gasped, then he heard footsteps.

“I thought I heard something down here Ankit…” said one voice.

“Yeah, me too Samir… Hey! Is someone down there? The vault is off limits at night!” called one of them.

“SHIT!” exclaimed the would be thief as two priests emerged and froze, seeing him there as plain as day.

“THIEF! HELP! SOMEONE! THIEF IN THE TEMPLE!” shouted one of the priests up the stairs as the would-be thief swore and charged them, body checking one and rushing up the stairs. The other priest ran to the wall and pressed a button, and an alarm suddenly went off through the building!

The man cursed as he heard footsteps pounding in from all directions. The alarm had woken up the entire temple staff and they were coming for him! He clutched the arrow in his hand, then ran towards the exit as three of them blocked his path.

He dug in his pockets and pulled out a pouch of sand, throwing it into their faces, then stumbled as they swore and rubbed their eyes but seemed otherwise unhurt.

“… wait, what? That… no, they should be unconscious…” he stammered, then he looked at the arrow. “This… dammit they lied! This is no historical anything!” he swore, throwing it down and forcing his way through the trio as they cursed and tried to clear their vision, racing towards the exit.

As he got outside however several police cars were already pulling into the parking lot. The temple’s alarm was designed to set off a signal at the police station in town, calling law enforcement to their defense.

“Fuckfuckfuck!” swore the would-be thief, reaching into his pocket which contained what looked like a small furry ball, then tossing it into the nearby pond on the temple grounds! The pond began to bubble, then a moment later there was an eruption of water and a swarm of small furry creatures with flappy bat-like ears and huge eyes burst free from the pond. They giggled maliciously and raced through the temple grounds, and as they went any machines went haywire! Cars malfunctioned, guns jammed, lights flashed on and off, it was chaos!

The thief took advantage of it and quickly ran for the gates, disappearing into the night as the police tried to focus on the outbreak of insanity that had suddenly taken hold… but it didn’t change one fact. The thief had failed, the Arrow of Rama was still within the temple.

Several hours later…

The door to the Wulfshead Club opened and Nelen walked out, followed by Simoni, Stephy, Sammi, Lupe, and Drusilla. It was daytime now, so Natasha had remained in Jaipur with Nicu. Lupe however had come with them so they could use her incredible sense of smell.

Nelen wasn’t a happy man. He’d called the temple first thing in the morning to warn them about a potential theft only to find he was too late! The thief had been and gone and while his attempt to steal the arrow had been thwarted it would be foolish to assume it wouldn’t happen again.

Simoni however was very anxious. She had gone straight to Arja when she found out the arrow had almost been stolen, but the vanara girl was still too despondent to get out of her bed. She tried to explain that the theft had failed and that the arrow was still safe, but all that she got out of her was a muttered ‘my fault…’ before she’d fallen silent again.

Simoni hated leaving her behind, but they had to do something. If another thief got lucky then all would be lost…

The group made their way through the city to the temple grounds where the head priest was waiting to meet them. He talked the cops down, stating that Nelen was a special consultant on unusual thefts, though the police were firm. He, his female companion, and his sniffer dog could enter, but the teenagers he brought with him could not. The rest of them hung around the steps of the temple.

Simoni peered over the cars, looking around at the madness that was the grounds. Broken lights and car parts littered the yard, being cleaned up as best they could now that the police had documented what they needed. “Jeeeez… someone called in the gremlins.” she whistled. The garuda was wearing a green tanktop and a denim skirt, with flip flops that could be kicked off at a moment’s notice.

Stephy nodded, “Yeah, had to be. What a mess...” The fae princess had dressed similar to his cousin, but a pure white ensemble of a camisole top and a long white skirt.

Sammi folded his arms over his chest, “Well, hopefully Nelen can find who our thief is sooner rather than later…” he sighed, pulling a paper fan from thin air and fanning himself with it, the fae princeling annoyed that he was stuck outside in the Indian heat, again. He had prepared as best he could with a wide brimmed hat, silvery top, and white pants… but the heat was still punishing for the winter changeling.

Inside the temple the head priest led Nelen to the scene of the crime, pointing out where the incidents had occurred. There was a roped off area of sand on one spot, a few tiny divots in it showing where the police had gathered samples for analysis.

“He threw that in the eyes of three of our men who tried to stop him… but I don’t know what he expected to happen.” he explained.

Nelen knelt down and looked closely at it, “… Sands of Morpheus. Normally it’d put someone to sleep the second it hits their eyes…” he nodded.

“Hm… I see.” replied the head priest. He was a mundane himself, though he was aware of the supernatural. After all, he was a priest in India. It would be rather hard not to believe in magic for a man like him.

Nelen, Drusilla, and Lupe followed him through the building, the priest leading them down to the vault. The safe door had been securely re-sealed and the arrow was back inside where it belonged now. Sitting on the floor was the wrecked remains of the thief’s charm bracelet and the rather gruesome candle.

Nelen made a face, “Eugh… yeah this was a professional thief, nasty trick there.” he nodded, pointing to it. “That’s a Hand of Glory. Made right they can open anything, not just locked doors but anything that can be opened.” he nodded.

The priest shuddered, “… and is it…” he asked. The Hand of Glory was a western technique, it wasn’t often seen in India.

Nelen gave him a grim nod, “Yes. It’s a real human hand. I doubt it came from anywhere around here, but human sacrifice fuels that magic. Its why they’re so powerful.”

The priest shook his head and muttered a prayer under his breath as Nelen knelt down and looked over the charms that had been on the bracelet, now drained of their power by proximity to Rama’s Arrow. “Hm… standard thief kit here.” he nodded, pointing to one that looked like a face with closed eyes, “Keeps a person hidden from others.” then to one that looked like a face with its hands over its ears, “Muffles sound and footsteps.” and so on and so on.

“Right, Lupe… give ‘em a sniff, see what you can find.” he said finally, nodding to the werewolf.

Lupe barked and padded forward still in her fully animal form, sniffing at the bracelet and whining, shaking her head a bit. She then looked around and sniffed, then began to follow the scent out of the building. “Alright, she’s got the thief’s scent, we’ll go see if we can catch him. With luck he hasn’t tried to flee India yet.” nodded the mage.

The priest nodded and put his hands together, bowing his head, “May Lord Vishnu and Lord Brahma guide your footsteps sir, and thank you.”

The three soon emerged from the temple, Lupe leading them down the street and through the town, following the smell from the bracelet.

“So what did you find?” asked Stephy as the group followed behind the werewolf.

“Well, our thief was well equipped. He might not be able to use magic himself, I don’t know, but he has magical tools. He’s got few scruples too, found a Hand of Glory in there.” he replied.

Simoni made a face as Sammi grimaced, “WELL! That’s… I mean they’re effective certainly but so… tacky…” muttered the changeling boy as he idly fingered the hilt of his rapier, the weapon still hidden from mortal eyes.

“Yeah, he knew his stuff. Did you notice all the signs of a gremlin outbreak outside?” asked Simoni.

Nelen nodded, “Yeah, heard the cops talking about it. Said he threw something in the water and then suddenly a swarm of giggling furry monsters. Mogwai probably… need to warn some of the locals to keep an eye out. Some of those things find food tonight and its going to get ugly.”

Lupe’s path took them through the city to the outskirts, then out into the wilderness surrounding the town. As the troupe walked on Nelen glanced to Simoni, “Arja is still a mess huh?” he asked.

She sighed and nodded, “Yeah… I mean. Iravati told me how horrible an enemy Indrajit is, and… yeah… just the idea that his return was caused by her… its eating her up inside.” she replied. “I wish I could do something…”

Nelen shook his head, “She’ll have to get over it sooner or later. We’re going to need everyone ready if Indrajit does manage to get his hands on the arrow.” he frowned.

Simoni nodded, though she still looked worried. Arja was normally energetic, cheerful, and always eager for action. Seeing her so broken like this was horrible for Simoni, made worse by the fact that she couldn’t even imagine how it must feel for Arja herself.

Suddenly, Lupe stopped, then her hackles rose and she began to growl.

Nelen held out a hand, gesturing for the others to wait… “You guys hear that?” he whispered.

Ahead, through the trees of the jungle, came voices…

“You didn’t tell me it was one of THOSE things! Just a historical artifact! How the hell am I supposed to steal it when none of my tools work with it on me?!” shouted a rather annoyed, and oddly familiar man’s voice.

“Not our problem… we hired you to get the arrow, you failed. You will NOT be paid.” replied a feminine voice.

“The hell I won’t! I risked my neck in there and I lost several VERY expensive relics getting out! Do you have any idea how much a proper hand of glory costs?!” exclaimed the man’s voice.

The group looked among themselves, then Nelen nodded and held open his bag. Drusilla grinned widely and reached in, pulling out her Christmas present. A massive club made of petrified wood with cold iron spikes and a ring melded onto the base. She’d been waiting to use this!

Sammi and Stephy took several steps back from her, then the former drew his sword as Stephy took a deep breath and licked his lips, preparing to whistle up a snowstorm if needed… which would be difficult given where they were.

Ahead of them, the argument continued.

“You told us that you would be able to get the arrow easily. You were wrong. If anything, we should demand recompense from you for wasting our time.” came the feminine voice.

“Wasting… If anyone’s time has been wasted it was MINE! How can you expect a thief to succeed if we don’t know exactly what it is we’re stealing?! A mundane blade of all things?!” the man’s voice demanded, as Nelen raised his eyebrow.

“Wait… oh hell it can’t be…” he sighed, “Right, everyone get ready, we bum rush them on three.”

“Again, not our problem. You failed, now leave or my guards will MAKE you go.” hissed the woman’s voice, almost a literal hiss.

“One…” whispered Nelen.

“Oh like hell! I’ll…” started the man’s voice, then there was a loud hiss and he let out a strangled yelp, “… er… f-fine, but this isn’t the last you’ll hear of this! I’ll slander your name! Nobody will ever accept a contract for that blasted arrow!” the male speaker retorted.

“Two…” continued Nelen.

“… hmm… then perhaps it would be best if you didn’t go back…” came the feminine voice, chuckling to itself.

“W-wait…” replied the man.

“THREE!” shouted the magus as they burst out into the clearing ahead of them, the heads of those there snapping in their direction.

Standing to the right of them was a trio of creatures. One looked human, a woman in an emerald green saree patterned like snake scales. Clearly of Indian descent, but something about her felt decidedly inhuman. This was helped by the guards she mentioned on either side of her being naga warriors!

Infront of them however was a man that Nelen knew all too well.

“Fucking hell HARRY?!” he shouted, glaring at the cringing would-be thief.

Standing there in a dress shirt, power tie, black slacks and shoes, and a checkered suit jacket was none other than the huckster of the Wulfshead and the Nightside, Harry Fabulous.

The man yelped, then recognized him and raced towards them, “Nelen! Help! They’re going to kill me!” he wailed as he hid behind the group.

Nelen scowled, “Idiot… so, Indrajit said he had some Naga on his side… guess you’re part of that?” he frowned, looking towards the snake-like beings and the woman.

The naga looked at each other, then chuckled to themselves as the woman laughed. “Oh? I suppose he did not see fit to tell the monkeys the entire story…” she smirked, as if enjoying a private joke. “My dear Indrajit was not the only one that cowardly Lakshmana sealed inside that horrid blade he found.” she smirked.

Simoni gasped, stepping back as Nelen frowned, “Wait… your dear Indrajit? Who are you?” he asked.

The naga on the left sneered. “Foolisssh human… you ssshould be honored to be in the presence of one such as her!” it laughed.

The woman laughed, “Now now, these are mere mortals. Let us educate them on their situation my friends…” she smirked, then her grin widened, and widened more, as her teeth became thinner and longer and sharper, her eyes turning acidic yellow with vertical slits for pupils.

Her legs snapped together and merged into a single long tail as scales grew all along her body, and with a snap her arms split into two distinct sets of limbs, two on the right and two on the left! Her saree vanished as she extended up above the group, a cobra-like hood spreading out from her head.

“You mortalsss have the honor of being before Princesssss Sssulochana! Wife of the great Prince Indrajit!” she grinned, then snapped her fingers as a talwar sword appeared in each of her hands! “… for asss long asss it takesss usss to kill you at leassst.”

“Oh fuck…” whispered Nelen as the naga princess surged forward with snake-like agility, raising her weapons. “SCATTER!” he shouted, the group splitting as Lupe, Drusilla, and Stephy dove left, Nelen, Simoni, and Sammi went right, and Harry Fabulous pissed himself and ran screaming as fast as he could from the battlefield.

The naga guards slithered quickly to their princess’ sides, hissing as they raised their own spears, and Nelen responded by snapping a branch off a nearby tree as he let Cernunnos take over, the stick becoming a hardened wooden spear of its own! Simoni shook off her panic and transformed, taking to the skies as Sammi readied his rapier, though the fae prince was unsure if his agility could match their’s…

To the right Drusilla grinned and shouldered her club as Lupe shifted into her lycantheropic form, roaring as she stared down the snakes. Stephy transformed as well, joining his cousin in the air as the guards surged forward, each going for a different group.

The one that went for Drusilla soon regretted it however, the cyclops taking her club by the ring and spinning around in a quick circle. The club caught it on the side before it could dodge and with a loud crack and a scream of pain the serpent went flying! It slammed into a nearby tree and fell to the ground unconscious with its entire side crushed!

Sammi and Cernunnos had a bit more difficulty. The hunting god dodged the Naga’s initial spear strike. Sammi dodged to the left, then smirked, “Snakes eh? I bet I know what you don’t like…” he sneered, running his hand along the side of his rapier. Mist swirled from his fingertips and the blade became coated in a sheet of ice as he stood, then rushed forward! He flexed his hand and mist swirled about him, and as the Naga turned it saw not one but three of him bearing down, swords drawn!

The naga hissed and lashed out with his spear, but the one he struck faded like frost on flame as the real Sammi lashed out, striking home into the snake’s chest with his sword! “Hah! Take that!” he laughed as he danced out of its reach, the serpent turning to face him, then shuddering as it looked down. The wound was coated in a layer of frost… and it was spreading through it inside!

“What?! NO!” it hissed in horror as it felt the cold radiating through its body! “Lady Sssulochana! This one commandsss ice! Beware!” it cried out, its spear clattering to the ground as it wrapped its arms around itself, trying frantically to warm itself back up, but its body shuddered all over. The power of Sammi’s fae curse spread through it, the naga as cold-blooded as any mundane reptile! Its blood chilled, then started to freeze and crystalize in it’s veins as it let out a pained wail, falling to it’s side as the blood in it’s heart and brain froze as well, the naga soon falling still.

Sulochana hissed in fury at the sight, then gestured and one of her Talwar swords vanished, replaced by a horn. She blew into it hard, from the other end of the clearing the trees began to rustle.

Simoni looked down from above, then called out. “Guys! She called reinforcements! Naga are coming! LOTS OF THEM!”

Cernunnos snorted, then pointed his spear at Sulochana, “TAKE HER! NOW!”

Lupe roared and charged towards the naga, grinning widely as she bared her fangs, “LUPE HUNT!” she barked, leaping towards her with claws outstretched, but the naga moved in a blur and the werewolf’s pounce missed her completely!

Sulochana hissed, then glanced to her left and dodged again just in time to miss having Drusilla’s club take her head off, then again to dodge Cernunnos’s spear and Sammi’s rapier!

“Dammit! She’s fast!” cursed Drusilla, bringing her club down again and cratering the ground where Sulochana had been moments before! Naga were extremely agile, snakelike reflexes wasn’t just a figure of speech for them, and Sulochana was no ordinary naga! They couldn’t touch her!

Stephy looked down from above, the faerie boy biting his lip… he’d hoped he’d still have all that glamour from Arcadia for something like this, but the Hyde in New Orleans had gotten rid of most of it.

He arced down past the group, landing near where they came in, and changed back. “Simoni! Get to ground now! I… I don’t know if I’ll be able to control this if I use it!” he warned.

Simoni looked down at him, then shot towards the ground as well as the others held back Sulochana. “Stephy? What are you doing?”

He looked at her, then glanced at Sammi who gave him a very firm nod. “Back around Christmas, Sammi and I did a ritual where Drusilla killed my dad. It should have done… something… but I dunno if it’ll work. I never tried to use it yet.”

Simoni cocked her head, “Wait, what should it do?” she asked.

Stephy glanced at her, then at the treeline behind them, the Naga were drawing close! They were almost here. “There’s no time! I just hope this works!”

He focused, putting his hands to his chest over his heart, and remembered that day. He remembered the feeling of facing those memories, the sorrow over losing a parent who loved him and the pain of living with one who did not, and he took that pain and turned it into his power, willing it into magic using his fae nature.

The air around him seemed to grow colder as he did, but it wasn’t enough yet, he focused harder and thought of his mother’s face on that photograph, the last time he’d ever seen her… and felt his heart catch and tears run down his cheeks.

He was a changeling of Winter, this was his power… and if he didn’t use it, his friends would be killed by the encroaching group of naga and their princess.

Well, he was a princess too… yes he was a boy, but to hell with that. To hell with all those who said he couldn’t be something like that. He held onto that thought, then focused on those feelings, letting them crystalize into glamour cold as ice and deep as a winter’s night.

Simoni stumbled back as the air around him swirled, the moisture in it crystalizing as he willed the glamour to spread out from within him… and his heart froze within his chest.

As it did, Sulochana spun and slammed her tail into Cernunnos, sending him flying into Drusilla who had to drop her club to catch him, the pair stumbling back, then slammed her tail down next to Lupe, forcing the werewolf into retreat.

The air around Stephy was so thick with mist and frost that he couldn’t even be seen now! Then suddenly a scream came from within it. A scream of repressed despair, pain, all the emotions he bottled up throughout his hellish childhood, and the cloud blasted outwards.

Stephy floated about a foot above the ground, his skin and hair as white as chalk now, his fingernails coated in ice that extended out into wicked inch long claws. His eyes were inky black pools and his ears were sharply pointed now.

Sulochana’s head snapped around and Stephy’s gaze met her own, the creature he’d become rising further off the ground.

“Away with you serpent. These ones will not be harmed by you and your’s.” he demanded, pointing a clawed finger at her.

Sulochana’s eyes narrowed, she could feel the cold coming off him… but she’d been sealed away inside Claiomh Dorcadas for centuries. She’d never seen a fae of any sort before today, nevermind whatever this was! She hissed, raising her weapons. “I do not know who or what you are… but you will not ssstand in our way child!” she spat.

Stephy frowned, “So be it.” he whispered, then suddenly he shot towards her, the ground around him freezing as he flew over it! She lashed out with her swords, but he spun to the left and circled around her, the naga princess hissing in fury as she brought them down again, but the fae princess dodged yet again, and again!

Sulochana hissed as the air around her sparkled with frost, her tail coiling around the rest of her body as Stephy glided to a stop infront of her. “This is your last chance Sulochana. Leave.” he warned.

Sulochana snarled and slashed out with her blades, but he dodged each blow with ease, gliding back and forth as if gravity only had a nominal hold on him! Nothing she could do could touch him!

“Imposssible! None are fassster than I!” she shouted.

Stephy slowed then and giggled… an unnerving sound in his current form. “Not right now. Look down.” he taunted.

Sulochana hesitated, then looked down and saw the ground around her was coated with ice and snow! Everywhere that Stephy had flown over had become gripped by the touch of winter to such a degree that even the heat of the Indian jungle couldn’t melt it! Stephy wasn’t faster than her, the cold was slowing her down!

“I am the Princess of Everfalling Snow, and you are a snake that got caught outside it’s den in the blizzard…” he grinned, his teeth sharp icicles now as he raised his hands, then thrust them before him, and the wind howled!

Sulochana screamed in horror as a blast of frost shot forward from him, ice and snow beginning to coat her body as she shuddered, then began to shake all over as tremors took her! Sulochana was a powerful naga, but just as serpentine as the rest! Cold blooded! Ice was her bane as much as iron was Stephy's!

“NO! I… I cannot… Indrajit! My love! Beware! These ones… are…” she cried out, her weapons falling from her numb hands as her scales began to frost over, then freeze, her long tail buried in freshly fallen snow. Her fangs chattered, but she could barely move now, her vision fading… and just as the reinforcements burst from the jungle she stopped moving, then stopped breathing.

A hunting party of a half dozen naga warriors came from the trees… then stopped on the spot. They had expected to see their princess fighting those mortals who sided with the scions of Hanuman… but this gave them pause. Sulochana was frozen solid, icicles hanging off her form, half of her buried under snow as it steamed in the hot air of the jungle… and floating before her was a girl (or they assumed) with pure white skin and hair and long ice-like claws.

Stephy turned his head to face the Naga, then grinned widely and snapped his fingers loudly.

There was a cracking sound, and Sulochana’s top half fell free of her bottom half, frozen through to her core!

“Well well… more serpents lost in the cold… do you want to play with me too?” he giggled, his eyes a bit too wide now.

One of the naga slithered back, “… this cannot be… Lady Sssulochana isss ssslain! This creature killed her!”

A cry of shock and alarm came from the rest of the naga hunting party, “FLEE! WE MUST WARN PRINCE INDRAJIT! FLEE AT ONCE!” he commanded, and the others agreed. A creature with unknown powers that could kill the likes of Sulochana was not something they wanted to fight! There was no glory in suicide!

The naga retreated as Stephy giggled, shooting several blasts of frost after them. “Aww… leaving so soon? I was just getting the hang of this! Come back! I want to keep going!” he cackled, looking around.

Cernunnos looked up at him, as did the others. Something about his expression wasn’t right… his grin was too wide, his eyes too wild.

“Oh this may be bad…” warned Sammi, “My brother hasn’t learned how to keep focus in this state. If he gives over to his fae aspect too far…”

Though, at least today, it didn’t seem he would. Perhaps he spent too much glamour defeating Sulochana, or perhaps there was some hidden reserve of willpower that he hadn’t known he had, but after a moment he shook his head, slowly descending back down to the forest floor. “Nnnh… h-hang on… I…” he gasped out, then shuddered as the color returned to his skin and hair, his ears changing back down to normal as he shed his faerie mien and returned to his usual appearance. “Uhn… sorry… I-I’m okay now, I think.” he whined, rubbing his temples. “Woooow… that was… something…”

Sammi smirked, sheathing his rapier. “Indeed, well done returning from it.” nodded the princeling.

The others were staring at them, except for Nelen who was putting his ballcap on from where it’d fallen when Cernunnos’ antlers had pushed it off. “Okay… what was that?” asked Simoni.

“It is… well…” began Sammi, “A changeling is essentially midway between a mortal and one of the gentry, yes? With proper preparation and the right magicks, we can… push that further along towards the ‘gentry’ side of things. I did likewise when we fought Agaliarept back in that miserable swamp.” he explained.

Simoni glanced worriedly at Stephy, “… and you can push it back the other way.  Right?” she asked.

Stephy nodded firmly, “Y-yeah, its not always easy apparently, but… I’m okay now. Really.” he nodded, smoothing his skirt back out.

Nelen scowled at Sulochana’s corpse, then said, “Whatever it is, we need to get the hell back to Jaipur right now.” he warned.

The group looked at him, “Why?” asked Simoni, “Harry got away! Shouldn’t we catch him incase he tries to steal the arrow again?”

Nelen shook his head, “Harry is a shit thief without his tools, and the arrow would stop them all from working. He won’t take that job again, and he’s a horrible gossip. He’s probably back at the Wulfshead shouting to everyone who’ll listen about what he was hired to steal and how they lied. That’ll cut down on people willing to try for it by a lot… but…” he pointed to the remains of Sulochana, “That was Princess Sulochana, Indrajit’s wife. He threatened to destroy Jaipur if we got in his way. How do you think he’s going to react to THIS?” he nodded meaningfully.

The group looked between themselves, then Drusilla grabbed her club and they ran back to the city with all haste, summoning the Wulfshead door at the first alley they could find!

Indrajit’s threat was not idle, and having killed Sulochana… well, when the news of her demise reached the Rakshasa Prince it was safe to assume his reaction would not be good for anyone, least of all them and their allies. They had to warn Rajesh and the rest of Jaipur, evacuate the city if they could and prepare for siege!

Next Story

Previous Story

[jaserp]

playing minecraft on the switch is hellish for my wrists... 😔🤘... notch being home of phobic strikes again

[luveline]

this may be a little niche but Steve with a reader who passes out when she hurts herself?

tysm for ur request!! ♡

You hit your hand really hard on the doorframe walking in and your happy face immediately creases with pain. Steve feels sympathetic – the sound is something awful, a cruel thud – but when you collapse every emotion besides horror flies out the window.

He's pretty lucky that he's never had the misfortune that is seeing you hurt yourself. That is, until you do, and he's left entirely unprepared.

He springs off of the bed and kneels by your side. His knees should be throbbing from the impact but he can't feel a thing.

"Baby," he says, urgency slipping into his tone. He clears his throat. "Baby, are you okay?" 

He takes your face into his hand and pats your cheek. Your eyelids flutter and then open and you gasp loudly. 

"Woah! You're okay," he says, pushing you firmly by the shoulders when you try to sit up. "Don't, just- Just lie there a second." 

"What the fuck." 

"Yeah, my sentiments exactly." He eases his hand under your head as covertly as he can, fingertips probing for a bump. You don't hiss and he doesn't detect any anomaly, but Steve knows how horrible a concussion can be – he keeps searching. 

You scrunch up your face. "Oh, my hand. Steve-" You grimace guiltily. "I'm sorry, that happens sometimes." 

"Passing out?" 

"I have a low pain tolerance. My doctor said it's something about my blood pressure dropping." Your voice is unmistakably insecure, even sluggish as it is.

You look so embarrassed and he needs to put it right. Where he'd usually say, God, give a guy some warning, he says, "That's okay. Are you okay?" 

You only draw into yourself further. "I'm fine." 

He pulls your head up as he leans down to kiss your forehead. "That's what matters." 

You bat him away weakly. "Don't be nice to me. I must'a given you a heart attack." 

"You did," he allows, laughing under his breath. He pulls back and you come up with him, looking dizzy still. "Lemme get you something to eat." 

"I don't need it." 

"You said you have low blood sugar." 

"Pressure, Steve," you correct, giggling behind your unhurt hand. 

He glares at you for turning on him. "Next time you pass out I'm gonna leave you there." 

You raise your injured hand aloft. "Does that mean I don't get a kiss?" 

"No, that's not what that means, and I know you know that."

[morganaspendragonss]

give me all your love now

full credit for the idea goes to jamie ( @silvarafael ), i am just the person lucky enough to be trusted to write it. thank you for letting me, lovely, i hope i did it justice 💚

title from we might be dead by tomorrow by soko

ao3 | 2.6k | 2.12 fix-it of sorts

The fire is everywhere, and all TK can think is that they’re going to die here.

For all his training, for all his experience, panic still has him by the throat; he’s been trapped in fire plenty of times before, but it’s never been like this. It’s never been his house, never been his boyfriend in danger. Carlos’s terrified gaze locks onto his as they crouch on the bedroom floor, and TK has to force himself to focus because it’s not just his life on the line anymore — Carlos needs him to take charge.

He searches through the smoke for something, anything, that could help them, his eyes eventually alighting upon the window. 

“The window,” he says, coughing. “How far down do you think that drop is?”

Carlos frowns. “Um, I—twenty feet? Twenty-five?”

TK barely manages to suppress a wince; a twenty foot drop is no joke, and visions of all the different injuries they could receive flash through his mind, ranging from a few bruises to a broken neck. But the flames are getting ever closer and the smoke thicker, and he knows that there’s no other option.

Either they jump, or they die.

“Come on.” He grabs Carlos’s arm, one hand on his back to keep him low, and they stumble over to the window together. Carlos seizes a chair and slams it into the glass until it shatters, grunting with the exertion.

He takes a step backwards when it’s done, tossing the chair away and looking at TK nervously. TK understands that fear, but he refuses to let it show right now, not when Carlos is so obviously struggling as it is.

“Go on,” he says, “you go first. I’ll be right behind you, I promise.”

“Okay.” Carlos nods and turns to the window, and TK takes the opportunity to let his mask slip. He folds in on himself with a hand pressed against his chest, closing his eyes as he fights to take a breath. His vision is going hazy at the edges and he knows they need to get out as soon as possible—but he refuses to leave before Carlos does. 

As much as Carlos would protest, TK knows that he is the priority in this situation. He doesn’t care what happens to him, as long as Carlos gets out and lives.

Then hands are on his face, gently bringing his head up. TK meets Carlos’s eyes, aching at the raw pain in them—Carlos so rarely lets his worry and fear show openly like this, and TK knows that the same thoughts he’s been having are running through his boyfriend’s mind.

“If we don’t…” Carlos starts, shaking his head. “If we…”

His jaw clenches, eyes going wide, and TK puts his own palms on Carlos’s cheeks, steeling himself for what they both believe might be the last words they say to each other.

He keeps his voice as calm as possible when he says, “Hey. I love you too, okay? Now go!”

He pushes on Carlos’s arm for emphasis, and lets out a breath of relief when Carlos nods and turns back around, stepping to the window. His hands clench briefly at his sides before he seems to steady himself and climbs onto the sill. Carlos sends him one last backwards glance, and TK forces a smile, a fresh pain stabbing through his heart as he gets one in return.

Then Carlos is gone, disappearing through the window with a barely audible yell. TK waits a minute, praying that Carlos is unhurt—or, as unhurt as possible—then moves forward, reaching to haul himself up.

But, before he can, the bedroom door crashes open. TK whips around, his watering eyes taking a second to recognise the bodies in the doorway as his dad and Billy.

“TK!” his dad calls. “Follow us!”

He stumbles over, gratefully accepting the damp cloth from Billy. “Dad,” he croaks. “Carlos, he—” He gestures to the window, hoping the message gets across as another coughing fit almost sends him to his knees. He’s steadied—he doesn’t know who by—then almost dragged out of the room, only aware of a guiding hand on his back and the sounds of his home collapsing around them. Dimly, he registers another voice, another set of hands, but TK can only focus on putting one foot in front of the other, everything else blending into a distorted mess of sensations.

Fresh air, when it hits, is both a blessing and a curse. TK heaves, falling to the ground as he tries to take in lungfuls of clean oxygen, but his throat is raw and his chest tight, and black spots dance in his vision as he fails to breathe. He’s vaguely aware of shapes moving around him, of the searing heat still at his back, but the burning inside him and the pounding of his own heart in his ears overwhelms it all; panic settles deep within him, and TK begins to slip as the darkness only grows.

It feels like a blink, but when he comes back to himself, the scenery is completely changed. He’s no longer outside, rough tarmac under his palms, but flat on his back, staring up at what his clouded mind slowly comes to realise is the inside of an ambulance. 

TK sits bolt upright, ignoring the dizziness that washes over him, and bats clumsily at his face until he manages to dislodge the oxygen mask someone must have strapped on him. He blinks hard, trying to clear his vision, but someone steps in front of him before he has a chance to figure out what’s going on.

“That stays on, Strand,” Captain Vega admonishes, replacing the mask over his mouth and nose. TK squints up at her, confusion clouding his thoughts.

“Cap? What are you doing here?”

“Nice to see you, too,” she says wryly, before appearing to reconsider. “Actually, no, it’s not. Next time we’re in an ambulance together, please try and make sure that it’s because you’re doing your job, and not because you’re the patient.”

It takes a second for her words to process, but when they do, it’s like a puzzle finally falling into place. TK’s eyes widen and he shoves at the gurney, attempting to drag his uncooperative body into a standing position. He fails fairly spectacularly, his frantic wriggles leading him to almost roll off the gurney and onto the floor — if it weren’t for Tommy catching him at the last second, he’d probably have a broken nose to add to his list of injuries. Whatever those injuries are, anyway.

“Woah, woah, woah!” she cries. “What do you think you’re doing?”

TK takes a moment to breathe, the exertion setting his aching lungs aflame, then looks up at Tommy through watering eyes. “Carlos,” he gasps, the single word taking all the air he has.

Tommy’s face softens and she glances out of the ambulance. “Paramedics are with him,” she says, and TK’s heart plummets when no further explanation is forthcoming. That means… Well, he knows what it means. 

It means that Carlos is hurt, badly, and Tommy doesn’t want to tell him.

He opens his mouth to argue, to plead, to do something, but before he can, his dad appears, switching out with Tommy in the ambulance. Other paramedics he thinks he vaguely recognises from calls jump in too, slamming the doors shut behind them. One of them tries to guide him back onto the gurney, but TK fights against them, panicking as the rig rumbles to life.

“No, I can’t leave. Carlos — I need to see him. Please. Please, I—”

“TK!” His dad is gripping onto his wrists, pinning them down, and TK is too weak to stop him. “You need to calm down, okay? You inhaled a dangerous amount of smoke back there; you have to focus on breathing for us.”

“But—Carlos—”

“Is already being transported.” His dad sighs, loosening his grip. “Son… He fell twenty feet. They wanted to get him to hospital as soon as possible.”

The information sinks in slowly, the guilt following much faster. TK slumps, a sudden, intense weariness overcoming his body even as his mind goes into overdrive with worry. He still itches to know how bad Carlos is, but his imagination fills in the gaps plenty, and TK feels sick with the knowledge that whatever happened, it’s on him.

Carlos fell twenty feet, and TK was the one to tell him to jump.

This is all his fault.

*

“You should not be out of bed.”

TK looks up from pulling on the shirt Paul had donated, scowling at his dad. “I’m fine,” he counters, though his lungs decide to betray him by sending him into a coughing fit.

“Want to try that one again?”

When he’s recovered, TK takes a couple of deep breaths, then looks his dad dead in the eyes. “Sure. I’m fine.”

His voice is raspy and talking grates at his throat, but no coughs follow this time, so TK considers his point firmly proven and continues getting dressed. He can feel his dad’s gaze burning holes in his head, but he ignores him, pushing himself up onto unsteady feet.

His dad shakes his head, but walks over and lets TK lean on him. It’s frustrating to need the support; TK is grateful for it, but it also means that he can’t go anywhere without his dad agreeing to move, which he knows he’s going to refuse to do.

“The doctors wanted to keep you overnight.”

“It’s not like I’m going to leave the hospital,” TK points out. 

“But you won’t be getting any rest either, and they specifically told you to do that.”

“What do you want me to do, Dad?” he demands. The outburst hurts, but TK swallows down the pain and focuses his gaze on his dad, setting his jaw. “I need to see him; I need to know that he’s going to be okay.”

“I know that, son,” his dad says, sighing. “But you can’t take care of him if you don’t take care of yourself.”

“I’m barely hurt. You were there too; you heard them say that the smoke didn’t do any real damage.” TK looks down at his shoes, bitterness welling up in him and bleeding into his voice. “‘Lucky’ was the word they used. Wish I felt it.”

A brief silence falls, then his dad shifts, pulling TK’s arm over his shoulders. “Alright, then,” he says wearily. “Let’s go.”

The walk to Carlos’s room is both too short and too long. It feels as though it takes forever to get through the endless corridors, but, by the time they’re standing outside the door, TK hasn’t even begun to prepare himself for what’s waiting for him. His dad had given him the cliffnotes version—burns, a broken arm, a nasty head wound and probable concussion, a shattered kneecap that had needed surgery, and more bruised skin than not—but hearing and seeing are two very different things.

It’s only his dad at his side that gets him to take those final few steps into the room, his hands trembling as he nears Carlos’s side.

He looks… TK wants to pretend that he’s just sleeping, but there’s a slackness to his face that betrays the lie before he can even tell it. Carlos is a light sleeper—not a restless one, but if he were truly sleeping, he would have woken up at this point, roused by so many people being in the room. 

Andrea looks up at their entrance, immediately standing to give up her chair for him. TK goes to protest, but she sends him a stern look and he wilts, accepting the seat with a grateful nod. She rubs his shoulders gently, her gaze so kind and motherly that it almost breaks something in him.

“He’ll be okay,” she murmurs.

TK swallows, squeezing his eyes shut. Tears begin to slip down his cheeks, and he twists away when she reaches to wipe them away. “I’m so sorry,” he whispers. “This is all my fault.”

The frowns of everyone else in the room are practically audible, and TK burns with shame under the weight of all their gazes.

“What do you mean?” Gabriel asks, his tone hard—though TK knows the anger isn’t directed at him. “You didn’t start the fire; this is the fault of that sick bastard who rigged your house.”

“Not the fire,” TK corrects quietly, opening his eyes but not daring to meet anyone’s gaze. “Carlos. Jumping out of the window was my plan. We didn’t know if or when help would come and I just… I guess I panicked because I couldn’t think of anything else, and I told him to do it. All I wanted was for him to get out safe, and now look where we are. If I’d just gone first, then—”

“Then, you’d be in the bed instead of Carlos, and the rest of us would be in exactly the same position,” Andrea interrupts. “You had no way of knowing what was going to happen, and I know you did the best you could. What matters is that you’re both alive; the rest we can figure out.”

TK shakes his head, wanting to argue, but all the fight has left him, replaced by an overwhelming guilt and sorrow. Andrea pulls him into her side as sobs wrack his body, the physical pain paling next to the open wound of seeing Carlos so still before him.

*

“Are you okay?”

TK sighs, wearily looking up at the sound of the hesitant voice from the bed. “Don’t ask me that, Carlos, please. Not now.”

Carlos purses his lips, but nods, understanding clear in his eyes. He’d woken up a day ago after sleeping for two, and to say he’d been struggling would be an understatement. The total loss of their home and all their possessions had hit him hard, and they’d spent much of that first day he was awake just holding each other, words irrelevant and unnecessary.

Today, though, has been different. The team has been trickling in and out, making attempts at light conversation and, when that’s failed, offering up reassurances and, several times, their homes if TK and Carlos need it.

TK appreciates it, but he’s glad for the quiet in this moment. It’s just the two of them, his dad taking a breather with Carlos’s parents in the cafeteria, and he feels he can finally let some of the exhaustion of the past few days show on his face.

Not all of it—he still has to keep up some sort of façade for Carlos’s sake—but it’s not as though Carlos can’t see through it anyway. They know each other too well for that.

“Hey, um, back there,” Carlos starts nervously, not needing to clarify what he means by ‘back there’, “just before I jumped. I thought… I thought we weren’t going to make it. And I just—I just couldn’t say it. I don’t know why. But it kills me that we could have died and I didn’t tell you that I love you, I—I’m sorry, TK.”

TK frowns, reaching to grasp at Carlos’s hand. “What are you talking about?” he says. “Carlos… I know you love me. You don’t need to say it for it to be true. I promise you, I know.”

“I know you do,” Carlos says. “I still should have said it.”

“Baby, no.” TK leans over and kisses Carlos’s palm, lips lingering for a long moment. “No. Don’t… Don’t think about it, okay? We’re alive, and we have the rest of our lives to say it; can we just enjoy that?”

Tears shine in Carlos’s eyes, but he manages a wobbly smile as he meets TK’s eyes. “We can try,” he allows. He sinks back into the pillows, squeezing TK’s hand as hard as he can. “I love you.”

TK smiles. “There we go,” he says softly. He kisses Carlos’s temple, resting their foreheads together and closing his eyes.

“I love you too.”

[beeroses]

Keyed Up

@lilacyennefer​

@write-it-motherfuckers​

^ Thanks to these two blogs for the prompt. It got the writing motor going! And kudos on the gif to the owner, it is not mine! Nor are Tig and the Sons, which I voluntarily relinquish to Kurt Sutter and his brilliant, twisted mind!

Warnings: Language and a lot of not-so-subtle Tig 

Story based on this prompt below : 

Living in Charming wasn’t Plan A. By God, it wasn’t even plan H. Yet, that’s where Y/N’s been living for the last year and a half and it has been most probably the best year ever. Between working 2 jobs and handling, well, let’s be fair, an entire kindergarten of adult bikers, life’s been busy but quite bright and fulfilling. Handing up hanging around the Sons has been a series of happy coincidences that went from meeting them at the diner you worked at to helping bartending on busy weekends at the Clubhouse to them bluntly asking that you helped with bookkeeping. Starting first with the garage, you became quite aware of what was going on around the lot but got no details. But when you started doing the books from the club, they couldn’t hide you their activities anymore. Instead of fleeing, like they thought you would, you actually found a way to possibly care about them anymore. Instead of the whole thing scaring you, it actually got you very protective of them and more scared of them getting hurt than you getting mixed in the very bloody scene they played on. 

One Son brought a side of you that you didn’t know existed, before meeting him : something along the lines of a momma bear with her cub or a giant mountain gorilla with his offspring. The question remained though as to which came first? Did you start worrying about Tig more because of much he knew just how to put himself in the worst possible scenarios? Or did you over exaggerate the actual amount of danger surrounding the man? One way or another, although you always made sure everyone was alright, you paid extra attention for any kind of scratches or heavy bleeding on Tig. 

- We’re off on a run for a couple of days, Sweetheart, will you be able to come keep an eye on the garage, Jax asked you. 

- Of course, have some books to finish up anyways and it’s gonna be so damn peaceful without all of you around to bother me! 

- You do know you’re faking bothered and you’re not even good at it, right ? Tig asked you, smirking while making you blush slightly. 

- It’s not because Y/N answers your every needs and calls that you’re not a bother, Jax replied, rolling his eyes at the obvious manoeuvre Tig was trying to pull. 

- No, it’s because I’m Y/N’s favorite, he answered back, putting a very confident arm comfortably around your shoulders, pulling you to him, while your face felt so hot, an egg could’ve fried. 

You quickly got up, mumbling something to do on the something about something that you promised to something and disappeared in the other room. The boys were left chuckling about it and Tig was left wth a tingling all along his arm, where he held you. 

When the boys left, you finally showed yourself again to say goodbye and tell them that everything was under control. 

The hours and days ticked by painfully slowly while the Sons were off doing God knows what with God knows who. You managed to close a lot of books that were piling up but deeply missed the ruckus that the boys brought around the clubhouse : it made it alive. 

You did have many very decent qualities to you, but being the kind of person that always had a phone around in case of emergencies wasn’t one of them. Which meant, it often stayed on your bedside table or on the kitchen counter for the entire day, because ou forgot it there that morning. You always said it made you mysterious but for most, it just made you impossible to reach. Calendars have always been a big mess as well. Never fully knowing which day it is, you still always found yourself at the right place where you’re supposed to be. 

Leading to that evening. It was engraved in your memory that the boys were coming tomorrow therefore, obviously, they couldn’t be coming tonight, right? 

You went out with friends for an old-fashioned diner-movies-gossiping, which basically always ended in : When are you and Tig finally get together? And you desperately changing the subject, blushing and babbling about him being just a good friend, nothing more, just like the others. our friends laughing that you could actually believe yourself. 

The thing is, tomorrow would not be the day the boys arrived home because tonight was. And your cellphone may have been beeping and lightening up and ringing, the fact it was tuckered under a pillow on your couch made it absolutely impossible for you to notice it. 

You came home fairly late that evening, fiddling with your keys when you heard loud noises coming from the inside of your house. Panicked, you took  a flower pot from your porch and slowly unlock the door and opened it. Peeking inside, you waited for indications as to where the sound was coming from. You heard nothing for a while and decided to go in slowly to try and found out what was going on. And then, coming out of your bedroom door with a baseball bat in his hands stood… Tig. Fucking. Trager. You put the flower pot down and opened the lights to see him bleeding from his arm and with a scratch on his head. 

- WHAT THE HELL TIGGY?? 

- WHERE HAVE YOU BEEN, WE’VE BEEN TRYING TO CALL YOU FOR 2 HOURS STRAIGHT, I THOUGHT YOU WERE DEAD. WHAT DID WE SAY ABOUT YOUR CELLPHONE??

You blushed slightly, realizing your phone was left at home and the boys were actually worried about you. You took it from under the pillow and threw a shy smile at Tig. 

- Oops… Hey! Wait a minute. How did you actually get in?

You pushed pass him, ignoring the bleeding he had on his arm for another minute while you went to look at your bedroom window. You turned back at him and sighed, rolling your eyes in *faked* annoyance 

- You have got to stop breaking into my house.

He smiled coyly at you. 

- I wouldn’t have to if you’d just give me the keys, while throwing you a flirty wink. 

You grabbed his unhurt arm and dragged him to your bathroom where you could deal with his injuries. You forced him to take a seat and took upon yourself to find something to treat him. While you looked for alcohol swabs, he took his sweet time detailing your face, your eyes and your body in the nice clothes you decided to wear to go out. When you turned around, you saw his eyes glued to you and couldn’t help your blushing. You dealt with his minor injury quickly and threw all the stuff you used away. While your back was slightly turned to him, he grabbed your waist and pulled you on his lap. Feeling his breath on your neck and on the soft skin right behind your ear made you both giddy and very nervous. 

- I’m not kidding, if you’d just give me that key of yours… he murmured, lips close to your ear

- Tiggy, you just threw yourself through my bedroom window, I don’t think giving you the key would be safe, you mocked, trying to keep some kind of composure. 

- What if instead of crashing through your window, I wanted to come crash here, sometimes, he insisted teasingly, while you felt his nose in the crook of your neck and his hand on your thigh, making you feel all warm and fuzzy inside.

- Tig… you breathed out.

Hearing his name being said so close to a moan made him turn your head towards him and pull you into a steamy kiss. After a while (could’ve been a minute, could’ve been three hours, you really did suck with time), the two of you pulled away to try and catch a breath. You stood up, turned around and left the bathroom. Tig, left alone with wide eyes, started freaking out, thinking he went too far, too fast, again. But this time, he bit his tongue for pushing away someone he truly cares about. Panicked and wild-eyed, he gets up and starts following you to explain but bumps into you when he gets out of the bathroom. 

Standing there, with a crooked smile on your face, you grabbed his hand to pull him into another kiss while discreetly slipping your key in the hand you were holding. You felt him smile against your lips while he grabbed you to pull you even closer to him. 

Nothing needed to be said. He had your key and you had no certainty that he wouldn’t still break into your house just because. But you sure wouldn’t have it any other way, because he may had your key now, but you had him and it’s all that mattered. 

[puppetmaster13u]

Imma focus on the DC aspect rn.

Look between Damian “I must have all the animals” Robin and Bruce “Omg it’s a dinosaur” Batman they would have so many animals (not helped by Alfred not being there to say no

Sure, they’ve woken up on an island or something after an explosion with a magical object of some sort but they’re all unhurt and still have their supplies at least

“Omg guys we have fuckin inventory-crystal things!” (Steph probably) 

First thing they encountered was a dodo which was the first sign of something being up, followed by a fuckin dinosaur (thankfully non-territorial & herbivorous) 

Every attempt to contact someone else has failed but they have supplies to make a shelter at least, even a fire and all that

It’s a very good thing they already go on survival trips and they’ve canonically gone to an island of dinosaurs before so they know what’s edible at least

“Cass did you just create narcotics- actually no don’t answer that I don’t wanna know.” “There are berries.” 

“Oh my gosh- guys I need to befriend these giant birds guys I need to do it-” (Dick probably) 

“Father, I have found several giant bats, here is a baby one to help you get over your fear.” “Oh- O-O k a y-” 

Half of their shelter has become a straight up stables with so many areas for different creatures even when they try to focus on like, food and such

If not for the worry about what might be happening back home they wouldn’t be so worried 

On the other hand being stuck together again means they end up screaming several traumas and feelings at each other when it all blows up- somehow they feel better after

“Uh, you guys thought there was just dinosaurs in this place? Because correct me if I’m wrong but that’s a dragon or something isn’t it?” 

“Bruce please get off the unicorn you have enough-” “Oh so that’s where the demon brat gets it from” “This is Biscuits the second and Biscuits the third and if anyone hurts them I will destroy their lives” 

“Jason please put the frog-dog things back you don’t need them-” “Jokes on you I do need them!” 

The moment they find a wyvern nest everything else is fucked, they got dragons now, what’s gonna stop them huh?

Bruce could trick himself before into saying it wasn’t too many animals but they have so many now 

That’s not even including the ones that are for food- the dodos are for eggs and Batcow will apparently have friends when they get back

The moment they find the blueprints for things like attack drones and other such items they are going to go crazy 

Well technically they’d probably just dis and reassemble the many mechanical things that they can get ahold of

“Okay this metal thing is crazy- holy fuck it’s self replicating and can be used for power guys I need more of this to study” 

When they do get back people are going to be so confused, especially with their sudden upgrades

No they do Not explain 

How long are they stuck? Well it was at least a year for them, but for everyone else who knows- Maybe it was only a week, maybe it was a few months of panicked searching 

If they keep the gem implant things they might hide them with things like long sleeves, tattoos, or bracelets made to incorporate the gem in the design

They might still be figuring out how to hide their… many new pets of various sizes but if they ask a magic user really nicely (maybe with a bit of blackmail or bribery) then they can definitely have enough space for… how many animals do they have again….?

Rotating a DCxDP crossover where they end up in an area similar to the Ark games.