#Wow this one was long

[onyxonline]

As someone who plays DnD, how was the campaign? Who plays what race and class?

CRACKS HANDS

aight.

Poppy: The dungeon master! she's been stuck in that case for 10 years, she's got many many stories to come up on the spot

Angel: Plays as a ranger (get it? because he uses a grabpack?) he's a tiefling, and he's just in it for the booze

Dogday: plays as a paladin and is a sun elf!

Bobby: a Shapeshifting Druid and also a Whole Bear. literally Just a Bear.

Hoppy: Plays as a drow who's a rogue, mf that tries to kill everyone

Crafty: Surprisingly a rogue as well! but she's a fairy of sorts (home brewed)

Kickin: a half elf half human bard (he just learned to play guitar and likes to sing in character lol)

Picky: She doesnt play but loves to watch! she ensures that the party eat some food while playing!

Bubba: Doesnt play either, is there to either instigate for funsies, or reading the lore for the others (they have the reading comprehension of a third grader/j)

Kissy is there for emotional support face smacks!

[ghostinthegallery]

Time to overthink another necron guy!

Anrakyr the Traveler! Overlord of Pyrrhia (Pyrhhia? I never get it right, hang on...okay it's Pyrrhia). Blue guy who's good with machines and drew the short stick when it came to necron nicknames (Silent King! Stormlord! Diviner! Infinite! Traveler...sorry it just doesn't have a same vibes)

To get a little meta right off the bat, when I'm analyzing a character (a thing I just do for fun in my spare time because I'm a normal person), I generally start with the question most authors are going to frame that character's story around: what does this person want and why? Sometimes that's easy. An author (or multiple authors) has already written that character in a way that clearly outlines their goal+motivation so I just start there and let my thoughts run wild. Trazyn wants to collect things for his museum because he is a kleptomaniac gremlin believes in the inherent value of culture and history. Szarekh wants to reverse biotransference because it sucks and its his fault. That is the seed from whence all rambling blooms for me.

Anrakyr...does not have that clarity.

We do know what he wants! To awaken and unite all the sleeping necron dynasties. That's where his name comes from: traveling the galaxy, seeking out tombworlds to bring them up to speed on the state of this messed up galaxy we call home. Okay cool. Why does he want to do this? Uh...

Even in-universe, this question doesn't have a clear answer. To some, he's incredibly noble. He left behind his homeworld, sacrificing his throne, to help his people adjust to a tumultuous new era. A lot of these tombworlds are waking up damaged, or occupied by hostile alien species that didn't exist when they went to sleep. Maybe their planet is in a different part of space. It sure would be nice to have someone explain everything before an ork eats your face.

The opening paragraphs of Devourer refer to Anrakyr as "would-be overlord of the necrons." Does that just refer to the dynastic rank of overlord (if so, why add on the "would-be" since he literally is an overlord?) or does that line hint at higher ambitions? Is he trying to unite the dynasties under him? That's certainly possible! Ambition is not exactly unusual for necron nobility. It explains his suspicion towards the triarch prateorians who follow him around (put a pin in them). He thinks of them as spies, servants of a rival...and that rival is The Silent King. That's one hell of an enemy to choose.

Cool, right? Except there's another side to Anrakyr. Because he doesn't just go around helping other tombworlds, he demands a price: weapons, legions, other tributes. To some, who have just woken up and had lifesaving information dangled in front of them only to have it ripped away if they don't pay up? That doesn't seem strictly altruistic.

Anrakyr is fine killing his own subordinates for failure (see the Carnac campaign where he sets up his own general to die for the crime of not killing space elves with suitable efficiency). Of course, given that most of Anrakyr's armies are tributes, most of his forces aren't loyal to him per se. Aside from the immortals that left Pyrrhia with him. But overall he's in an awkward spot within his own army.

Except if Anrakyr wants to rule...why leave behind Pyhrria, the planet he literally ruled?

You see my problem here?

Okay then, where does that leave us? A goal with a bunch of conflicting motivation, actions, and no clear answers. And I admit, I was stuck here with Anrakyr for a while! I kind of wrote him off as "The Stormlord we have at home" and moved on.

Until I started writing for him myself. At which point "this dude is an inconsistent mess" doesn't really cut it.

The thing about people (and by extension characters) is that people change. Especially when a bunch of different unconnected writers major, violent events happen across millennia. So what if both versions of Anrakyr are true? What if the well-intentioned savior and the would-be conqueror are each aspects of the same person.

Going back to those three triarch praetorians.

For those unaware, Anrakyr has the joy of hosting three emissaries from the triarchy. Three praetorians whose names he does not know, so he literally just named them the necron equivalent of A, B, and C. He assumes they are spies for Szarekh, to whom he has no interest in pledging service, but he still keeps them around. They are mysterious, they literally hang random trinkets from their head pieces like Christmas ornaments, and they give cryptic advice.

What the heck are these three doing here?

I guess they could be spies, but why the heck would Szarekh send three praetorians to keep an eye on Anrakyr who really is not that important in the grand scheme of necron politics? Don't get me wrong, he's not a nobody, but...he's got a ragtag army, a planet he doesn't visit, and some Blood Angels he teamed up with one time. This is not someone the Silent King desperately needs to watch out for.

But hey, speaking of Blood Angels, remember The Word of the Silent King? The one short story where Szarekh has an active presence. Guess who else is in that story?

Anrakyr the Traveler.

He's in the first line! The necron half of the story is being told to him by one of the praetorians. Why draw such an intentional parallel between these two characters? Sure, sets up Anrakyr's involvement in the Devastation of Baal lead up (ngl I don't know the order these stories were published it could be the other way around, either way GW is tying up their lore in a bright little bow) but narrative continuity is a BORING answer for CHUMPS so LET'S GO DEEPER!

What might three weird little triarch praetorians see in Anrakyr that they also see in Szarekh?

Tragedy.

Szarekh's entire character is defined by tragedy (see my ramble about him for details). What if Anrakyr is in a similar position? What if he started his journey with all those good intentions? The desire to save his people, free them from alien invaders? And overtime those intentions got corrupted, turning him into the harsh, suspicious, bitter person we see in Devourer? The Anrakyr in that story doesn't care about the tombworld he's supposedly saving. He hates organic life, he needs the reinforcements from that world...but never does he truly express concern about it. Or sorrow when he finds it consumed by the flayer virus. But consider how many tombworlds he's seen fall to the flayer virus? Or infighting, or madness, or aeldar, or orks, or humans, or a random supernova or a million other things? Imagine how many worlds he found but could not save? This is a person who has lost the plot.

But the person who inspired those stories of nobility still exists. He still organized a massive campaign of different dynasties to save the tombworld of Carnac. He still defended necron tombworlds against the Silver Skulls (who are a real space marine chapter and not just a Trazyn goof!). He still fought Tyranids alongside the Blood Angels and the Mephrit.

Anrakyr's praetorian buddies have told him the Silent King won't speak to him. Yet. But Szarekh will if Anrakyr proves worthy. Anrakyr probably doesn't care either way, but for a praetorian to say this about their king is huge. To me it shows that they believe Anrakyr could be worthy, one day. They think he's worth watching. Not as a ruthless crusader, but as another person who suffered for their good intentions and came through it with a renewed purpose.

[fan-of-many-stories]

Vierapril Day 5, A Realm Reborn

Auvo startled awake, pieces of the strange dream scattering with waking clarity. Where...? Right, he'd gotten on the cart to Gridania. Rona was likely prowling somewhere behind them, getting to stretch her legs after moons aboard a ship. He trusted that she wouldn't fall too far behind.

What woke him? Probably the Hyur, who was still staring at him.

"Y'all right, lad?"

Auvo just about fell out of his seat. What? How did he...he kept speaking, and Auvo was left to wonder how the man had learned the language of the Wood fluently. They weren't supposed to teach it outside!

"You were moanin' in your sleep, an' sweatin' buckets besides."

Was he? He scrambled mentally for the fleeting fragments of the dream, and only came up with the images of a shadowy figure in a red mask and a voice calling... something, and a great city aflame. His heart squeezed at the last memory. Why? Auvo didn't care for any cities.

The man went on about aether sickness, and strange creatures called Moogles introduced themselves, which Auvo could also mysteriously understand. They left as quickly as they'd arrived, and the Hyur got on with the conversation. He introduced himself as Bremont, and complained about the Elezen twins who shared the cart not being up to talking. Auvo knew why his heart squeezed at the sight of them. Ysera and Petra were probably about their age, and just as similar. Auvo tuned Bremont out until he actually asked him a question.

Was he an adventurer? Auvo nodded, supposing that was the best word for it. His question of why, though, required more than a gesture.

"Power enough to fight alongside my sisters, without holding them back." There was a strange quality to Auvo's speech when he answered, like he was speaking in two voices.

Bremont seemed a little taken aback before drawing a conclusion about wanting power to do good. Really, it was closer to wanting revenge. The Hyur recommended the adventurer's guild, and Auvo started to tune him out again to puzzle over the man's linguistics.

A ways down the road, they ran into some sort of trouble. An arrow landed in the cart, shot by an Elezen up the hill. The guard called the feathered people they were fighting Ixal. He, too, spoke the language of the Wood, but that word stood out in Common. It felt harsher, like when his sisters started calling him brother in Common while still speaking their own language around it. What was going on with this?

He paid more attention to Bremont when they moved on. It wasn't as noticable as when Auvo had spoken, but he had the same echo-y second voice. That was the louder one, and it was the language of the Wood. The quieter voice spoke in Common, and matched the movement of his lips. Auvo puzzled over that during the rest of the ride. Was it something in his head, then? Some blessing that allowed him to understand and be understood? He didn't know why it had suddenly come, but after struggling to learn Common over the last two years it was a welcome boon and Auvo would not question it too deeply.

The cart stopped just outside the city.

"Well, this is where we part ways, son," Bremont said as if they'd become good friends on the journey. "I'm off to the markets to deliver me wares, then it's back to the highroad for me."

He handed Auvo a bauble as thanks for being company, and asked him to become the kind of person he could brag about meeting. Really, where did that come from? Auvo was nothing special, and didn't plan to be. He was heading back to Dalmasca and his sisters as soon as he could keep up with them.

Auvo turned to the city. To the strange rounded architecture amid the biggest trees he'd seen since leaving the Wood. It wasn't as hot, or as humid, but something about this forest echoed enough about the Wood that Auvo felt strangely peaceful. Not like he belonged, but it fit well enough to be comfortable. He took a deep breath before heading off. Maybe this new start would lead to something good.

Pose by the coolest cat, @phiselene !

[notsodailycake]

oh oh i JUST saw Spike & Beanie, ⚽️ & 🙊 for the both of them?

AAAH YES YES YES!! I've been wanting to talk about these two so badly, but i never knew what to talk about or where to start- (i usually only share oc info when i have a drawing/doodle of them accompanied ;w;)

Anyways, answers!!

Spike doesn't have alot of free time, if he isn't turfing, he's working at grizzco, if he isn't at grizzco then he's out training with his team, and if no he's home taking care of his little sister, with the help of his friend/roommate Mable (his sister the only blood family he has left, Mable is there bc of sum history between the two, she has always been helpfing him)

BUT when he does get free time, he likes to read book or write them, he also enjoys crafting little things like toys for his sister, just for fun. His favorite pastime is reading the stories he wrote to his little sister

Beanie on the other hand, she has quite a bit of free time, she's a free soul living with her childhood best friend Jay (genuinely they are friends lol, but i tend to put Jay on a threesoume with Beanie and Spike just for a joke lol). She can't stay still and do nothing, she has to be doing something, so she has alot of different hobbies, like singing, dressing up, shopping, etc. But her favorite one so far is drawing, she likes to go out and see what she can draw and turn it into something magical, she always carries a sketchbook with, sum similar to rapanzel's, to draw out her adventures

Spike's worst flaw would be his selflessness, he always puts others before himself and although that's admirable, it ca be draining. He had to be the one to step up when he lost his dad before his sister was even born, and while his mom was a mess he took care of her, even if his granny did step up to help, she was old still, after his mom died he had to take care of his sister along side his grandma until she died when he was around 16. That lack of self care, or constantly overworking himself yet saying he's fine so not to burden his family is what almost got him killed, of it wasn't for Mable saving him

Skipping a bit here but, after what happened, Mable had offered to help him, and she keeps him in check, like a big sister (she's 2 years older). Butbold habits die hard, and he struggles to communicate his issues with others and tends to put up a tough person, usually by accident (he doesn't actually really realise he looks a bit scary)

Now for Beanie, she runs from her problems.....alot. She is terrible at conformation and would rather punch her way out of a situation. In fact, bc of thag, when she had issues with her ex gf, she just kinda ran away (taking Jay with her, cuz they stick together no matter what), all bc she just couldn't confront her and the issues she had, she just kinda left a note at their apartment just saying "sorry, this isn't working out, goodbye" with no explanation, nor where she went off to.

Too bad for her bc that came back to bite her ass, bc her ex came in looking for her wanting to get the answers she deserves, there's actually a funny scene i have in mind about this i might write later, but i can just share it if u want

Jay had started to help her face her problems more tho, but her ex was sum she just, couldn't go back to

There's also the instance where she stopped talking to her parents scared of their disappointment, bc she left them as well to go to inkopolis with her team (her ex, her ex's bff and Jay), but Spike just slaps sum logic ontonher and forces her to call her parents, thanks to that she was ale to repair her relationship with her parents

[not-that-dillinger]

02:  A memory from your character’s teenage years

It was a Wednesday. The walk home from school that day was slow and painful. His ribs ached from David punching him in the gut, and his body was sore from being tackled to the floor by the rest of David's friends.

It was a long walk, but Ed refused to take the bus (too loud, too crowded, and too many of David's friends), and his father had late meetings at work and couldn't pick him up. Not that Ed particularly minded. It meant he got a little time to himself in relative quiet, a breath of peace safety from the school bullies and his father.

And on days like this where his father wouldn't be home until late, Ed could stop at the library for an hour. And it was on Wednesday afternoons that he and Lupe arranged to meet at the library to catch up and talk about their favorite books, about school, and anything else. Ed had moved schools twice since they met, and Ed's father insisted that he went to the stupid fancy rich kid high school, but the library was roughly in the middle between their houses, only a little way out of the way for either of them.

There was always a thrill to going to the library. His father didn't know about it, and his meetings with Lupe felt... clandestine.

Ed reached the library, and walked inside silently. He wandered through the stacks, picking up titles that looked interesting as he made his way slowly to their usual spot near the window in the back with the comfy chairs. Lupe was already there, reading a large, heavy, tome.

"I'm glad you made it," Lupe whispered. "You're later than usual. Is Moriarty still giving you grief?"

"No more than usual," Ed whispered back. They quickly fell into old, set patterns, talking quietly about the latest news, school, and what books they read the past week, before settling into silence, and reading their books. Ed read through the summaries of his stack, setting some aside to read later, and others to choose what to read while they were still here.

"This one sounds like one you'll like." Ed slipped an origami pigeon into the book, and closed it, then handing it to Lupe. This, too, was part of the pattern.

"I think you'll like this one." Lupe traded books with him.

"Thanks." Ed opened the book to read the summary on the inside flap. Tucked inside was another origami pigeon. Ed smiled. "It looks interesting."

On each origami bird, written in ink that would only become visible with heat, they had both written coded messages using wheel ciphers. They never mentioned the origami birds, nor the messages they carried. Ed had a flock of hundreds of origami pigeons hidden in a shoe box under his bed.

"There's something I wanted to show you before we check out," Ed said. He retrieved a stack of papers from his backpack, and showed them to Lupe. On them, there was a drawing of a machine that looked sort of like a typewriter, except for the second set of characters on the back. On the next few pages were tiny schematics.

"I did some research on the Enigma machine, and I think I figured out how to make one that'll work," he said.

Lupe raised an eyebrow. "Cool!" they said. "You'll have to write to me how that goes." They handed the papers back to Ed, and he put them back in his backpack.

"Gladly," Ed replied. He picked up his stack of books, and slung his backpack over his shoulder. Lupe picked up their backpack as well, and they walked to the check-out counter together.

"Ed, there's something I need to tell you," Lupe said once they were outside.

Ed raised an eyebrow. "What is it?"

"I—" Lupe faltered. Never in his life had Ed ever seen them falter.

"What's wrong?" Ed asked, worried.

"I'm leaving," they said. "Moving to Vermont."

Ed's heart fell. "Oh," he said. "When?"

"In a month. I just found out last night."

"I'll miss you, but we can still write to each other," he said. "You have my address."

Lupe nodded. "I'll miss you, too." They threw their arms around him in a hug.

Ed returned the hug. "There's still a little time, we can plan something crazy to do before you leave."

Lupe sniffled. "That would be fun." They held on for a little longer. "You should get going, you don't want your father to get mad."

Ed nodded, and they broke apart. "We can share ideas next time," he said. "See you next week, Mycroft?"

Lupe nodded, and smiled. "See you next week, Sherlock."

They slowly walked their separate ways back home.

[me-beef]

@strangeravatar made a great point

i was gonna focus on the spike-hotboxing-celestia aspect but i got distracted somewhere along the way and i think i forgot what joke i was trying to make

but dont you think its interesting how many guards of the exact same color/body type she's managed to accrue?? i do

ooohh you want to go look at our stickers so bad

[parisoonic]

Demo has had many careers - tattoo artist isn't one of them.

[possamble]

Needlessly close reading and long commentary on chapter 57 and how the audience actually has an extremely limited view on what Marcille has been like over the course of her life.

I am once again thinking about how pre-dungeon Marcille is so quiet and stoic that she seems like a completely different person. How jarring chapter 57 is for the audience. Like you have Marcille, who has been just the most blindingly expressive person with resting baby face

And then the chapter drops a title page of Marcille hearing from Falin for the first time in four years and it's like.

Who is that. Genuinely. Would you even realize that's Marcille without the context clues?

And then the chapter just keeps coming in with the sucker punches.

We have SEEN Marcille meet strangers. It was never with this understated of a smile.

literally who the hell is this. the few times the audience gets to see some Signature Marcille Faces that they're used to is when she finally gets to see Falin again

when she's testing out her new spells

(and when Laios and Falin are fantasizing about her being their damsel in distress, funnily enough)

And then finally. Finally you get to a fully recognizable Marcille when she fucking DIES and comes back to life to geek out about necromancy.

We know she loves magic. We know she loves Falin. So it's not so surprising that she wouldn't be able to keep a mask up when thinking or talking about the things she loves. But why the mask in the first place? Where does it come from? It's tempting to think that, maybe, Falin's departure just hurt her so much that it turned her into a quiet person.

But that's only half true. If you go back, the first instance you see of this incredibly mild personality is actually introduced much earlier, in chapter 17.

What if she was always like that. What if her default after her father died was to hold people at arm's length, to never really emote past being polite and friendly. What if Falin was the first person who was able to bring her out of her shell, and when she left, Marcille just went back to how she was.

And when comparing her detached demeanour with someone else...

It's not exact, but wouldn't you say there's a resemblance? Wouldn't you think she might be trying her best to imitate what she saw of her own mother working as an accomplished mage?

It would certainly explain why she's hiding behind her portrait in her nightmare, at least.

We aren't told that Marcille has been distancing herself from everyone around her using a mature and dignified personality she modelled off her mother. But we sure as hell are shown it, I think.

[seventh-district]

Making Incorrect H:SR Quotes Until I Run Out of (hopefully) Original Ideas - Pt. 2

[Pt. 1] [Pt. 3] [Pt. 4] [Pt. 5] [Pt. 6]

[sakuravalelp]

Don't eat anything else - DC X DP

Using this prompt

Next part

Masterpost

Danny is sure that if it wasn't for his ghost side, he would have already died from malnutrition. Vlad, the monster he is, doesn't allow him to eat any meal without human meat. It's not that he isn't allowed vegetables, fruits, and animal byproducts, but every meal has human meat somehow. Vlad watches him with piercing eyes while he eats, making sure he doesn't avoid the meat.

He's gone days without eating just to avoid it, but eventually, he does have to eat. He has eaten human meat! He wonders if this is why Dan decided to renounce his human side.

Future Vlad had told him that Dan wanted to get rid of his ghost side due to his grief, but maybe Dan thought he would feel better about eating humans if he were a complete ghost. Danny could understand that, but he now knows it wouldn't work...

The Infinite Realms are full of different species, and the act of eating another species that's able to coexist with you in a society feels just as horrendous as cannibalism. Was finding this out what drove Dan mad?

He isn't getting much nutrition when he does eat either, not with him vomiting at least half the times he does. Not that Vlad cares about that;

"Ectoplasm will take care of your body while you stubbornness dies. I do think it would be easier for you if you just stopped being ridiculous and eat."

Ectoplasm and water are the only things he has free access too, and Danny hates how grateful he is for at least having that.

As if things couldn't be worse, he's also been forced to cook the meat. When he started learning how to cook with Tucker's mom, he never, never, would have imagined he would be using his abilities for this. He has grown numb to butchering human corpses…

Corpses are a frequent view in the kitchen. He's scared one day he'll recognize the face of one of them. Vlad knows it and uses to control him, telling him that if he doesn't behave, their next meal might be Tucker or Sam. He hates to admit how docile he's grown.

He hasn't seen Tucker, Sam, or anyone since the explosion in the lab took his family. Vlad doesn't allow him to leave the mansion for anything besides galas. He has him collared like a dog to prevent him from leaving. Except, his collar is a shock bracelet charged with blood blossoms that would inject into his wrist if he tries to escape.

He thought Vlad was bluffing and tried escaping once. His whole body felt like it was burning up in flames, and he wasn't able to move for a week. Vlad told him that next time, the dose would keep him in bed for a month. He hasn't tried escaping since.

He's still talking with them through chat. He doesn't know if Vlad knows, but he doesn't think he does; he told him his phone exploded with the lab. But he can't tell them anything. How could he? How is he supposed to tell them he has cooked humans? That he has eaten humans? That he has grown somewhat numb to it? He can't, and then he feels like he can't talk about anything else that is happening.

Today, as he serves the entrance dish to the first guests Vlad has had since he took Danny in, he forces a fake smile on his face. Inside, he feels a wave of nausea and dread as intense as the first time he was forced to eat human meat. The grotesque irony of presenting this dish, knowing what it contains, twists his stomach and makes his hands tremble ever so slightly.

They don't know. They have no idea that they're being served their own species. They don't know, and Danny is the one forced to make them eat their own kind.

The appetizer is a vegetable-based soup with barely any traces of meat, but the main dish features a full human fillet. The guilt and revulsion claw at his insides, nearly choking him. He has to at least stop them from eating that. He needs to get them out of here somehow. And maybe, just maybe, it’s time to try and put a stop to everything else. He can’t let this atrocity continue.

-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-

Tim didn't feel comfortable listening to Masters talk about how good the food would be, while Masters' heir served the appetizer with the fakest smile Tim had ever seen. The teen looked so clearly uncomfortable and scared around his guardian that it was hard to resist the urge to grab the boy and leave.

Masters had praised his godson’s cooking during the gala last week, all the while keeping a hand possessively on the teen’s shoulder. Tim didn't like how controlling it seemed, nor how the grip tightened when the teen mumbled quietly about his name being Danny. It was difficult to witness the entire interaction, especially as the teen appeared to fall into a state of complete dissociation afterward.

They were already planning to investigate Masters due to the suspicious nature of all his contracts, but after the gala, they had to shift their focus to helping the teen. They were fortunate that Masters had granted them easy access to his mansion with the invitation to try Danny's cooking.

They couldn't all go to Masters's and leave Gotham behind, so at the dinner, it was just Bruce, Cass, and Tim. Jason was also in the city because he refused to stay away from an obvious abuse case, but he wasn't allowed at the dinner. He would have attacked Masters just from seeing Danny’s uncomfortable stance under his hand during their greeting.

Masters had insisted that Danny serve the food since he had made it, and now Danny stood beside him, serving him the last plate of soup. Danny stumbled for a moment, and before Tim knew it, he was bathed in soup. Tim blinked, surprised at how the soup wasn’t as hot as he had expected, given the steam rising from the other plates.

"Daniel! What the hell are you doing!?"

Vlad exclaimed, standing up from his place, and the teen beside Tim paled.

“I—I am so sorry!” Danny apologized, using napkins to help clean off the soup, his hands slightly trembling. “Did you get burned?”

"No, no, don't worry about it. I'm okay."

"It isn't okay. Daniel, you ruined Mr. Drake's clothes!"

"Sorry... Let's- I think I have clothes that could fit you... So you could change?"

Oh, so that was why his soup wasn’t hot. Danny had poured it on him deliberately; he was trying to get him alone. Despite how scared Danny looked, it seems he still clung to the hope of escaping. Tim felt a surge of relief and determination. He was glad to see that Danny was looking for a way out, and this chance could be their opportunity to devise a plan.

"Thanks, I would appreciate that." he said as he stood from his sit. He saw how Masters was opening his mouth to say something, but Tim didn't want to risk loosing the opportunity. "Please, don't worry about it Mr. Masters, accidents happen, we'll be back in a moment."

Tim locked eyes with Bruce for just a second, a barely noticeable nod telling him Bruce trusted him to do this right. He then followed Danny through the mansion’s halls and up the stairs, noting that Danny’s bedroom was on the top floor. Danny kept his arms crossed, trying to make himself appear smaller.

"I'm really sorry Mr. Drake. I should have been more careful."

"It's okay really, and please, just call me Tim."

"Oh, um, thanks, but Vlad doesn't like nicknames... would- would it be okay to use Timothy instead?"

“… Yeah, sure.” It seemed Vlad controlled the way Danny was allowed to speak. “Would you mind if I call you Danny then?” Tim asked. He had been mentally referring to him as Danny since the gala and wanted to match that with his spoken words.

Danny shrank farther into himself, and Tim was about to retract his suggestion, but then a small smile appeared on Danny's face and he turned to look at Tim.

"Yeah, I would like that." Danny said in a hushed toned, and a hint of fears in his eyes. Like he was afraid to accept the suggestion.

Tim wondered if Masters had punished Danny for mumbling his preferred name at the gala. However, before he could dwell further on the types of punishments Masters might have used, Danny's eyes widened.

"Ancients, you even have soup on your hair-"

Despite Tim’s attempts to reassure him that everything was okay, Danny continued to apologize throughout the journey to his bedroom. Lamenting how foolish it had been to let the plate slip, and how he should have known better.

Danny’s constant self-reproach made Tim question whether he had misjudged the situation. Maybe it had been a genuine mistake. In theory, it wouldn't matter, because he got to talk alone with Danny either way, but he liked thinking that Danny was reaching out for their help.

Once in Danny's bedroom, Danny beelined to his closet to give Tim a change of clothes. Tim took the opportunity to look around. Danny's room was… impersonal. It was sophisticated and extravagant, like a room that would be featured in a magazine. Tim was sure Danny hadn't decided on the decor. He was surprised to see the bedroom had a large balcony connected to it. Maybe Masters trusted it was high enough for Danny not to attempt escaping through it?

"Would this outfit work for you?"

Danny was holding a suit similar to the one Masters had worn at a previous gala. Now that Tim paid attention to Danny's outfit, he noticed that Danny's clothes today were almost a smaller version of what Masters was wearing, with just enough differences to not be immediately recognized as the same. Thinking back to last weeks gala, their outfits were also similar. To what extent was Masters controlling Danny's life?

"Um... if you don't like it I can grab another one..."

Tim blinked, realizing he had just stared silently at Danny while he offered him the clothes.

"No, sorry, got lost in thoughts, I'm okay using those."

"Okay, I'm glad. Again, sorry for..." Danny motioned to Tims clothes "You can change in my bathroom over there." He pointed to a door beside the bed. "Maybe also take a shower?" Danny got a towel from his closet and offered it to Tim.

"Yeah a shower would be good." Tim said, taking clothes and the towel and entering the bathroom.

He'll talk with Danny once he was changed into clean clothes. If only to calm Danny's guilt about the incident.

Danny's bathroom was spacious, with a jacuzzi bathtub, a separate shower, and one of those popular bidet toilets. From an outside perspective it must look like Danny has anything he could want, but Tim knows better than anyone that money doesn't guaranty a good household. It's sad knowing that any CPS agent that did decide to look into this, would be easily push away by Masters money.

Once Tim had showered and changed clothes, he prepared to go back to the bedroom to talk to Danny, but before he did, a green glow from the corner of his eye caught his attention. Tim sucked a breath when he saw what it was. A syringe with traces of Lazarus waters and blood sat beside the sink.

"Timothy? Everything okay in there? Did the clothes don't fit?"

Tim took a photo of the syringe and sent it to the group chat with the caption, "We may have to add experimentation to Danny's abuse." After taking a sample, he decided to leave the syringe behind, considering the possibility that Masters might use the same syringe more than once and notice its disappearance. He really hoped to get Danny out of there that same day, but if they couldn't, he didn't want to make things more difficult for him.

"Everything is okay! I'll be out in a second."

Tim took one last look around while picking up his dirty clothes, just in case he found anything else. When he left the bathroom, Danny was waiting for him, shifting nervously from side to side. It was time to talk to him.

"Danny, look, I wanted to talk-"

"Ah, let me take your clothes! I'll make sure to clean them and get them back to you!" Danny interrupted him, grabbing his arm and shaking his head with a pleading look.

Tim looked incredulous at Danny for a second, before he realized what was happening and mouthed. "Your bedroom is bugged." He hadn't meant it as a question but Danny had nodded anyway. It was fucked up, Danny couldn't even talk confidently in his own bedroom?

"Right, thank you Danny. I would appreciate that. Perhaps we could take the opportunity to meet again in the future."

Danny gave him the look an adult might give a naive child when talking about an unreachable fantasy, and Tim couldn't help but frown at it. Did Danny believe that even seeing them again was too out of reach?

"That would be great, I'll talk with Vlad about the possibility."

Tim was going to say something else to try to reassure Danny that they would be able to meet, but Danny just handed him two pieces of paper. One was unfolded with text on it, and the other was folded into a small square, smaller than his pinky. He read the unfolded paper first.

- Don't eat anymore of the food. Pretend to have some sort of family emergency and leave, please. Read the other paper when you're far away. -

Tim looked at Danny with questioning wide eyes, but Danny just gave him another pleading look. Tim took a deep breath and took a photo to the paper and sent it to the group chat.

"Oh common, aren't you a little old to ask your guardian about every little meet up you have?" (Would you leave with us?)

Danny gives a nervous chuckle.

"Maybe, but after my family, Vlad tends to be really protective, you know?" He said while pointing to his bracelet.

Tim hadn't noticed how tick the bracelet was before. It was metallic, with a red liquid line in the middle.

"Shock bracelet?" He mouthed.

Danny nodded and then mouthed, "if I scape, it poisons me."

Tim pales a bit at that. They had underestimated how dangerous Masters was.

He motioned to his phone and took a photo of the bracelet after Danny nodded and sent to the group chat with the caption: "Shock bracelet with the capacity of poisoning Danny. We won't be able to get him out right now."

"We should probably go back with the others now."

-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-

Group chat

Coffee is my life: *Photo of the syringe*

Coffee is my life: We may have to add experimentation to Danny's abuse.

Death boy walking: Fuck!

Death boy walking: @ Adoption addict, we have to get the kid out of there now!

Bones? What bones?: Bruce is entertaining Masters with Cass at the moment little wing.

Bones? What bones?: I doubt he'll read this.

The blood son: There's no way that buffoon has any relation with grandfather. He's company does not follow any of the leagues morals.

Light & shadow: Maybe he found another Lazarus pit?

Light & shadow: They're supposedly naturally formed right? It shouldn't be that crazy for someone out of the league to have one.

Computer genius: It might not even be Lazarus waters. The tone is slightly off.

The blood son: It is possible that it is a different variation of dionesium.

Death boy walking: Who cares? He's injecting the kid with that thing!

Not Bruces kid: Hate to say it but the zombie is right, we can find what exactly when Danny is safe.

Coffee is my life: *Photo of paper with text*

Light & shadow: ????

Light & shadow: Is the food poisoned!?

Computer genius: Already told them through comms to not eat anymore food.

Computer genius: If the food is poison it hasn't affected them yet.

Light & shadow: Do you guys have a way to deal with the poison there?

Bones? What bones?: Don't worry Bruce doesn't go anywhere without the poison antidote kit.

Death boy walking: Of course he doesn't. The paranoid bastard.

The blood son: It isn't paranoia if the danger is real Todd.

Computer genius: I'll call Bruce in 10 to pretend a family emergency.

Death boy walking: You are NOT going without Danny!

Bones? What bones?: Any possibility on taking Danny with you @ Coffee is my life?

Coffee is my life: *Photo of bracelet*

Coffee is my life: Shock bracelet with the capacity of poisoning Danny. We won't be able to get him out right now.

Not Bruces kid: WTFWTFWTFWTFWTFWTFWTF

Not Bruces kid: Wasn't this a low stakes rescue???

Not Bruces kid: Why is this man coming up with plans in the big villain category?

Light & shadow: I'm scared of whatever "the other paper" that Danny gave Tim says.

Light & shadow: Wouldn't be surprised if Masters was connected with a trafficking ring.

Bones? What bones?: @ Death boy walking?

Bones? What bones?: You're too silent...

Bones? What bones?: Remember you won't be able to barge in without putting Danny in danger.

Death boy walking: I ALREADY KNOW THAT DICKFACE.

The blood son: Tt, don't be so surprise by the warning Todd.

The blood son: Your past actions have prove it necessary.

Death boy walking: Shut the fuck up demon brat. You're not one to talk.

... The blood son is writing ...

Light & shadow: Everyone have had their outburst of bad decisions.

Light & shadow: Can we go back to Danny?

Light & shadow: How likely do you think it is that he's a meta?

Light & shadow: Because, I think it's pretty high.

Not Bruces kid: Did you see something strange in him on the gala?

Light & shadow: No, but the bracelet are pretty similar to the meta-suppressors collars I've seen in the past.

Computer genius: I'm calling Bruce right now.

-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-

next part

[weirdglassthing]

GRIMMORNING NATION RISEEE. Criminal lack of grimmorning on this site so I’m making it my personal mission to spread my propaganda

Ignore whatevers going on with torbek, even I don’t know. I just drew some lines for his body and called it a day

[buttercupshands]

(Forgot to post again)

A birthday present for a friend :)

[archiepelago]

alternate surface au inspired by a few ive seen around on tumblr :3

[weaverofink]

when u name urself after ur fictional crush but your entire friend group also knows the reference

[crumb-crumblet-s-crumbington]

bath

[notherpuppet]

Do you think there's a right and/or wrong way to handle QPR? I know it's a tricky relationship, but it feels like most/some people kind of just slap the label onto a ship while depicting the ship as just romantic/having no difference with a romantic relationship. (this is why I was a little surprised when you said you do radioapple qpr when it reads a lot more like normal romance). Not meant as an attack or anything on anyone, just genuinely curious more than anything. Again, tricky relationship

So Imma put this link to info at the top of this post: https://taaap.org/2022/07/16/qprs-part-one/

Alright, so please take what I say with a grain of salt, because that's exactly what it is. One small bit of perspective in a mass of many people who experience QPRs in their life and/or are on an aro/ace spectrum. I also have NO QUALIFICATIONS on gender/sexuality theory, so my opinions are shaped by what I've learned and experienced personally. While people may identify with the same term, we are all still individuals with our own experiences. Words can help describe a phenomenon, but it doesn't make everyone who identifies with the word into a monolith.

So I've stated a few times that I navigate shipping Alastor similar to my own experiences as an aroace person. (I guess I'm sharing about myself with this post, but I think that can be helpful to just spreading awareness of an "alternative lifestyle"). So I'm romance-repulsed and sex-repulsed LOL but I'm also "positive" about those things. Like I view romance and sex as lovely, fun experiences people can have, but I've never been into it personally. It's fun for me to consume media about romance/sex, but yknow, it's also fun for me to consume media about violence or isolation. Doesn't mean I want to experience or engage in any of those things lol.

Anyway, I'm a huge people person and I love to party and yknow it seems most people are really wanting to fall in love or fuck or whatever pretty much all the time, but especially at parties hahaha. Normally, I'm pretty touch-averse, but I love dancing so much and it's a blast to dance with a partner (salsa especially!! i don't care for grinding for probably obvious reasons). And to connect the two previous sentences, people (whatever gender they are) would be very kissy-touchy on the dancefloor. Which i honestly dont really give a fuck about hahaha. I don't really get anything out of kissing but I also don't mind it. I just like to dance. It's all a pretty superficial--but still genuinely fun--experience for me.

When it comes to my deeper or more intimate connections, I have had friendships that have felt SO on the line of what was viewed as a romantic relationship. They were exceptional friends and we connected on a level that was deep and true, but it wasn't romantic. Sometimes we'd slow dance, sometimes we kissed, and it rocked. But it wasn't more than that, it was all that it needed to be. I didn't want more and neither did they (except one situation and so we had to stop being friends lol whoops). From the outside, people would even refer to us as partners in a half joking way, but we really were just friends. And I love those friends!! And a huge part of what made those relationships (which at the time were described as 'situationships' because we didn't know any of these terms haha) was their convenience. We either lived in the same building, worked together, or were neighbors LOL. I'm still friends with those absolutely lovely folks, but we don't live around each other, so our QPR just appears a lot more like any ole regular friendship. But it's not like there was a feeling that we transitioned into something different than before. It twas what it twas! (Had to take a pause while I was typing to reminisce fondly for a second, okay back to hazbin hahaha)

SO, whenever someone asks or it comes up, MOST OF THE TIME I do ship alastor through an aroace lens and experience with QPRs (specifically, MINEE because they were fun and I've never felt like doing this before I met a character like Al). And my XP is: "this isn't gonna be a partnership and we ain't fucking" LMFAO. so yeah!

When it comes to using a queer term like QPR, I just hope folks are considerate in their writing, but I also am inclined to just believe them if they say that's their intention because QPRs can look very different. Again, aroace and ace folks are not a monolith. The terms help to describe a human's experience. I'm inclined to think people are writing in good faith.

And all this being said, I want to just emphasize that I really don't think it's necessary to consider any of this shit if you want to ship a fictional character. I understand wanting to be protective of a character who shares an identifier with you (I personally don't wanna see romance/sex with Al in canon). But shipping is a fun thing a fandom does that often does ignore canon. Tale as old as time. I don't think anyone needs to be beholden to canon when they're writing fanfiction or having fun. If we did, I would have like--5 artworks on this blog hahaha. These characters are like dollies, do whatever you want. It's cool if people don't like it and I think it's cool if people do. It's just not that serious. There are ships I'm not particularly into or dynamics that I am not enchanted by, but whatever. I can just scroll or close my eyes.

TLDR; shipping in fandom doesn't need to be taken seriously at ALL. It can just be fun way for someone to play with fictional characters they like. That being said, I think it's good practice to use queer terms thoughtfully.