#and the revival scar stuff

[cupcraft]

btw im thinking about dsmp scars bc im thinking about this ctommy oneshot i wrote about his scars again okay and it was such a flop fic readers wise but i will never not be ill about these hcsof mine!!! if you want to read it is here: These Scars I have Remind Me

[yellowhearther0]

woaugh no way is that THE cranboo in 2023.....

[like + rb mayb?]

[arolesbianism]

Every second of every day I remind myself that I'm going to need to learn to draw gore and body horror and every second of everyday I simply keep imagining it instead of drawing it because I don't even wanna try finding usable refs for the shit I wanna pull off (it also doesn't help that searching up refs for skinless human anatomy is. Annoying to do if you wanna draw someone who isn't made of muscle and nothing else)

[sleep-0-deprived]

dimitriii i have an ideia !!

could u write a dom!toji x bunny! younger reader smut? where the bunny boy its just so cute and toji wants to fuck him silly and breed him all the time

Cuffing season~

A/n I like the way you think! Cause some bunny boy breeding is exactly what Toji needs so I hope I did your fantasy justice and enjoy ;]

Female aligned and mdni this is an 18+ blog with nsfw below the cut

Mating season, the bunny version of cuffing season was here for you and here you were needy desperate with your bunny ears laying flat as you hump toji’s pillow all hard leaking pre cum all over it while he’s gone.

“Someone’s in a mood isn’t he?” Toji asks as he stands in the doorway raising a brow watching you try to please your self with his pillow as your purr with your bunny tail wiggling above your ass cheeks “y-out back early!” You quickly stop rutting into his pillow pulling away flushed “no no, don’t stop cause I’m here baby?”

Shutting the bedroom door he walks closer pulling his shirt off showing his muscular chest as he grips your hips pulling you closer as he places one hand on your bunny tail rubbing at it as he lifts you up with ease pushing you up on the bed further gripping your bunny ears shoving your face into the pillows flipping you on your stomach “Toji please~”

“Does bunny boy need a cock in em that bad?” Toji grunts out pulling his sweat pants off then pulling off his boxers as you lay face down ass up wiggling your ass back and forth trying to get him to fuck you but instead only reviving a harsh slap to your right ass cheek “o ow hurts!”

You yelp out “cmon stop actin like a slut or ill treat ya like one bunny~” he groans smacking your other cheek as he massages them pulling your cheeks apart and spiting on your ass hole.

“Mhm Toji~” you moan reaching your hand back when he pulls his boxers down as you grab his cock while laying face down ass up, your hand guiding his tip to your rim pressing him to it rubbing around his spit as he holds your hips up “fuck, boy” he moans as he snaps his hips forward without warning filling you up “o-Oh hah~!”

Your eyes going wide pulling at the bed sheets your jaw slack as you feel his whole girth stretching you out just like your body craves as you lay in heat turning dumb off his cock with your fluffy bunny ears flicking letting your head droop down “see that all ya needed bunny? A cock to stuff ya wide open”

Toji speaks lewdly one hand gripping your hip tightly as your rim stretches out wide around his cock and your gummy walls clenching sucking his cock back in as you picked around him.

“Fwuah! To—ah” you arch you back as your body heats up feeling his tip rutting right against your prostate making your breaths rigid feeling his pressure inside you “such a sloppy bunny look at ya!”

Grinning as he fucks you with you as dripping and creating your own slick from being in heat, your juices coating his shaft while he slaps your ass cheek hard then pulls on your cotton tail “nhg~ so full~”

“Just like that boy” leaning down into your ear as he pulls you back on his cock further taking a mounting position with him on your back shoving your face into his pillow as he harshly pulls on your bunny ears “m mhm!”

Screaming into your pillow and crying out gripping the sheets feeling his muscle mass on top of you pinning you into the bed fucking you harshly making your ass hole start to burn for being stretched so long but your too cock drunk to care.

“Always so tight aren’t cha?” Grunting in your ear being condescending as his tongue licks over his scar while snapping his hips forward making his groin slap your ass cheeks hard enough for them to turn red while you lay in a daze blabbering incoherently lost in the feeling of getting your heat handled by him “ofhm ohm T-o-Ji~”

drooling and pressing your face in the pillow all fucked out and fisting your sheets as the bed rocks back and forth with toji’s force and weight on top of you.

“Aww already close? And here I thought my bunny could last longer, tsk” Toji says with disdain as he keeps fucking you making your cock jump all hard and neglected as your tip drips needs of pre cum into the sheets before your stomach tightens up shooting cum all over yourself as you gasp loudly drooling into the pillows arching your back like a cat crying out as your hole convulses around him milking him.

“O-ahh Toji~!” Crying out as his cock twitches one last time slamming into you hitting up agaisnt your prostate making your bunny ears droop down on your head lewdly and your bunny tail stop twitching as his cock throbs.

Toji keeps shooting his load deep inside you shooting white ropes painting your insides in a thick coating making your heat feel satisfied as you start relaxing your fists no longer gripping harshly,

“Good bunny, just needed to be bred didn’t cha?” Toji hums in your ears as he gives them a few rough pets kissing on your neck slowly pumping his hips back and forth making sure his load goes deep putting pressure on your prostate as your heat starts to rise back up again

But oh well you were a bunny and bunny’s have high stamina right! Looks like you and Toji are in for a long night of breeding.

[ailithnight]

DPxDC prompt #15

Demon Twins Fic

But!

Okay, so something I've seen floated a time or 2 from DC is that when using the Lazarus Pits to revive, a person emerges completely healed of all previous injuries or illnesses. Including scars.

Now obviously fandom often plays fast and loose with this rule, given how we like to give Jason an autopsy scar and some folks also like to make him keep the J from the Joker. But let's lean into it a bit here and make it play nice with the DP side of things.

Let's say that it's the ectoplasm, even the rancid stuff in the pits, that heals all scars except Death Scars.

So if Danny was, say, revived in the Pits by Talia before she disappeared him away to an orphanage in Illinois? The Danny that shows up in Amity Park wouldn't be covered in scars from his time in the League. He'd only have the one, the Death Scar.

Similarly, the Danny that stumbles out of the portal wouldn't have any scars from his time in Amity Park. He'd only have 2, the original Death Scar and the new Lichtenberg Death Scars.

Now I've seen it done many times where the Bats/Damian realize that Danny isn't a clone because you can't clone scars. So if Danny doesn't have those scars, and if his DNA is too messed up from the ectoplasm in him to check for any "regular cloning markers"...

Danny, fresh from an autopsy table, runs to Gotham to hide. And because of his inability to walk away from someone in danger, gets found by the Bats. Whether or not they know about Damian's twin beforehand, they are quite confident that Danny is a clone. An exceptionally good clone with nearly perfect implanted memories, but a clone nonetheless. Damian is particularly enraged about this

And poor Danny, already all sorts of fucked up from growing up Damian's lesser, then Dash's punching bag, then an experiment; in the face of Bat certainty and lacking any tangible evidence to the contrary; Danny starts to believe them.

[ma1dita]

star crossing

a 'partners in crime' installment - luke castellan x dionysus!reader

words: 4k

summary: (established relationship) The one where both your dreams come to life for a night (crossing the stars for love is easier said than done) (Luke Castellan x fem!Dionysus!reader)

a/n: welcome back trouble!verse :) as always feel free to ask about lore, especially with the dreams they have at the end of the chapter that depict different greek legends. (esp: hero and leander, dionysus and ariadne, cleopatra and antony if you need a quick google search!) enjoy! continuing monster mash and studying tonight

posted: 10/25/24

—

It was most definitely past your bedtime.

Checking the time on your watch and kicking off your boots at the bottom of the stairs, you yawn as exhaustion pulls you up the wooden steps like strings for a marionette. 

1:11 am.

A sidelong glance at the twins’ closed doors and the beautiful, sweet sound of silence greets your swaying form; that’s how you know your day as Camp Half-Blood’s head counselor is finally over. The door to your bedroom is wide open, wood creaking beneath your bare feet as your eyes fall upon the scene before you.

And Luke really, really tried to stay up and wait for you.

“Baby, you still awake?”

The sound of your laughter echoes in the quiet of your bedroom along with the soft twinkle of light that filters in through the linen curtains that dance across your window. To complete the ethereal picture is your love in human form, conked out against the floral bedspread like a chalk outline from a murder scene. You stifle your snorts behind a clenched fist, bending down to his winged shoes that hang off the bed, fluttering a hello to you at the brush of fingertips as you whisper, “Maia.” Even they get to fall asleep before you, closing in on themselves and thudding to the floor when you loosen the laces. 

Luke has his cheek stuck between the pages of your weathered copy of Pride and Prejudice—chapter 60, where Mr. Darcy and Elizabeth talk about how they fell in love. You pluck it from his grasp with nimble fingers as you bookmark his page and toss it onto your nightstand. Even watching him sleep has you bubbling with devotion for this boy, and what better way to admit that than to let him know you’ve come home? He still doesn’t stir, even as your knees bump along the sides of his body when you climb over him, slowly sinking into the soft of your mattress and the firm of his midsection. You’ve mounted him like one does a horse, observing his eyes moving under the delicate skin of his lids. 

Usually, this works wonders for Luke Castellan, hero, yes—but first and foremost a teenage boy who gets excited when you even look at him the wrong way (There is no wrong way).

“Mm. Mr. Darcy…” you tease, leaning over him and pressing a kiss to his jaw, then nudging his scar with your thumb as he smiles against it. There’s no question needed, he knows you by touch alone, down to the star stuff you’re made of—with the way his hands feel cosmic against your skin as they slip under your shirt and pull you down into the only fights you like partaking in, of lips and love. You’re smiling hot against his mouth, the kiss of life reviving him even as your teeth clink together sounding like a symphony against the laughter lining the beats of your hearts—so close but not close enough. 

Never close enough.

“Been waiting for you,” he gruffs, tugging at your bottom lip as he kisses you quickly once more. His voice is heavy with sleep, crackling like an open flame. Luke pushes away the hair that drapes against the shape of your face with one hand, the other resting comfortably around your hip, and you sigh. It’s easier to breathe when he’s near, and the weight of the world feels a little less oppressive as you look down at him—drowsy with sleep and a bit drunk on loving you too much for his own good.

“Sorry, Lu. M’gonna change and then we cuddle?”

He nods, watching your body lift off of him and already missing you as you walk across the room. The sounds that come with your night routine are like ASMR to his sleepy consciousness—hearing the rush of water in the shower, the soft sound of you humming to keep yourself awake. Luke lays there with a small smile, wearing a tie-dye shirt of yours that cuts off at his midriff and boxers that have seen better days. A lot of your relationship is like this—domesticity after hours and mostly away from prying eyes (not if Luke can help it). Some might think it’s boring and there’s only so much to do to entertain yourself hidden deep in the Long Island Sound, but love is in the way he spreads your wet hair over his arm so it doesn’t stick to your back as you lie down. Love is in the gasp you let out when you finally look at the ceiling, glittering and glowing just for you.

“You fixed them!”

And yes, there are stars that dot the night sky outside your window reflecting through the glass but they’ve also come alive on the ceiling of your cabin after all these years. They started peeling a while ago, but you haven't had the chance to fix them yourself. Hand-pressed and fluorescent, Luke restuck them up one by one flying up and around in his shoes while you were off doing night rounds. Even in the dark, he thinks he’d find their faint shine in your eyes, knowing the adoration in your eyes is a sight reserved only for him.

“You like ‘em? I tried to do the constellations but I think I fucked up. There might be two little dippers.”

Your hand slaps his chest and he snorts, breaking out into a grin when you shift against him, “They’re really pretty.” He thinks you’re really pretty—and the ugly face you make when he voices his thoughts still doesn’t change his mind.

Soft fingers trace their way up his abdomen, under the worn fabric of your shirt that he’s stolen and you murmur, “Thank you, baby.” The silence that follows is full—it swells in both of your chests like a balloon about to pop. You always feel like this when you’re with Luke, to be honest. Airy and in a whirlwind, left in the dust after he stirs your insides up to rearrange the mess until everything feels right again.

“I cannot fix on the hour, or the spot, or the look of the words, which laid the foundation. It is too long ago. I was in the middle before I knew that I had begun.”

“Hey!” he jokes, “No spoilers, Trouble. I was getting to the good part.” You roll over, leaning your chin onto his chest. He watches your head move on his body with every breath he takes.

“Luke, that is the good part. You’d know if you didn’t fall asleep.”

“I think I like books better when you explain them to me,” he pouts and he’s so stupidly attractive it makes you giggle. Luke likes the way your laughter surrounds his heart, pounding back against his ribcage as if asking to be let in. “Reading is hard. I don’t know how you do it.”

“I like stories,” you muse, tracing the slope of his nose gently and his eyes flutter shut like a drowsy baby, “Maybe it’s because of my dad but words are so vivid to me. I don’t need to figure out what the letters mean, the pictures play in my head like a movie. Stories are what keep me sane, I think.”

Luke’s hand sifts through your hair, cradling the base of your head. He tugs at it in a fluid motion so that you’re leaning up to look at him double chin and all, “I wish everyone could see the world the way you do, Trouble. I think everything would be a lot more…”

“Chaotic?” 

He laughs. It’s a loud sound that comes from his belly and you smack him, afraid that he’ll wake the twins downstairs.

“I’d say fascinating. I’ve never met someone like you,” he smiles thoughtfully, poking the soft of your cheek. You’re pouting now, albeit playfully as you say,” I sure hope not. You’re stuck with me and no one else.”

“May the gods have mercy on us all,” he groans dramatically, the air getting knocked out of him with an oof! when you flop your head back onto his chest, “Fine, I’ll stop. Tell me a story, Trouble.”

“Like what? I can tell you about… What about…” you hum, playing with his fingers, “Hero and Leander?”

“Mm-mm,” he shakes his head, curls brushing against his forehead with the movement. Your eyes are alight now, your mind racing with the thoughts in your head and any inkling of sleep is washed away.

“Cleopatra and Antony?”

“You told my siblings that one last week.”

“Luke, you were snoring by the time I got to the part with Cleopatra fleeing with her troops…” you chuckle as he tugs your hair in protest. You both have a way with words—his are smooth, and yours send him to sleep. Not in a boring way—he could never be bored of you. Every word that leaves your mouth captivates him, calms him in a way that makes him forget that anything bad has ever happened. And anyway, he ripped your copy of that tale back when you were 16. You didn’t talk to him for a week and he was frightened and felt so bad that he snuck out and permanently borrowed a first edition from a bookstore two towns over. It sits in its shiny dustjacket on the top of your shelf. The story of Orpheus and Eurydice was one he knew like the back of his hand after the production earlier this year (who else would you make the kids run their lines with), so that one was out of the question too.

“What about the one with my dad and step-mom?” Your boyfriend is silent, and you think he’s fallen asleep again until his hot breath reaches your face as he sighs, “Are there any stories you like that…I dunno, aren’t sad? Or end in death?”

“Luke, they’re all love stories. Lots of them are star-crossed. What does it matter?”

He sits up on his forearms, looking down at the picture you make laid against him—hair framing your face like a halo and cheeks kissed by moonlight. The son of Hermes blinks at you, a finger reaching out to boop your nose, "Because they’re all tragedies, pretty girl. Tell me something with a good ending. Something real.” You sit up, opposite from him as you lean your head against your shoulder and roll your eyes, “Love at most times is a tragedy, baby. The greatest ones are—and those are real stories!” Luke doesn’t seem satisfied with your answer. How could it be that the greatest love stories have endings at all?

He doesn’t dare think you two would be the same. 

There is no conceivable end to his love for you. The Fates would just have to accept that, he thinks.

“I can hear you thinking from here. You’re gonna hurt yourself,” you joke, tugging at his arm. “Angelface. Hey. Just because those stories ended like that doesn’t make them bad.” Luke’s playing with the edge of your quilt and not looking into your eyes. He’s uncharacteristically skeptical, but you’re the daughter of the god of storytelling—you would know better than him. Your expression softens; you’ve never had anyone be scared of losing you until him. It’s always been the other way around. So it must be true then that love is a catalyst because everything changes once you fall deep into it. 

“Luke. I’ll tell you a good story.”

“Yeah?” he mumbles, looking up at you like he wasn’t the one who hung the stars up onto your wood-paneled sky. You lean in and kiss him quickly, and he’d think you didn’t mean to if it weren’t for the stupid smile that graces your face afterward, “I like our story the best.”

You two have been in a relationship for almost half a year now, at each other’s wit’s end for four years, and in love…well who knows when that started? It depends on who you ask.

“Really?” 

A smile splits the scar on his face. It’s one of your favorite things about Luke Castellan—perfect even with what most consider his flaws. But you know he wouldn’t be himself without it, not anymore. He takes it wherever he goes, even with the weight that scar presses down on him most nights—the touch of humility it’s given him since his quest.

Plus it would’ve taken you much longer to fall in love with the egotistical little fuck he was before that.

“No notes, no rewrites,” you say, biting the inside of your cheek. Sometimes, you need reminders that life isn’t all that bad at Camp Half-Blood. Even if you’re the daughter of the Camp Director, things could be worse than being in bed and watching stars (both real and fake) with your boyfriend at one in the morning. Your face goes numb at the same time you realize something, “Like Mr. Darcy said. I don’t remember when I fell in love with you. I don’t think I could pinpoint it. I just remember thinking that I didn’t hate you like I thought I did. It shocked me more that I liked you instead of the fact that I was in love with you. Deep down I already knew that.” It was an inexplicable pull—something unspoken between the two of you that no matter what happened next, your futures were sure to be intertwined.

“Hmm. If the greatest love stories are tragedies, then what would ours be?” Luke mumbles, his nose grazing against yours. It tickles with the breath of his question that falls against your lips.

“Well, those are stories with endings, Lu. There’s no end in sight for us. I won’t allow it.”

Smirking at him matter-of-factly, you’re positive there’s no other way. Luke Castellan being in your life is the only thing you’d lay everything on the line for. It’s the only confident assurance you have.

“What are you talking about now?”

“With us, we make anything possible, don’t we? Look. Would Romeo and Juliet be as memorable or good of a story if they lived happily ever after?” He tugs at your necklace, pulling you in with a finger as he whispers, “You’re insane.” And though that’s true, he’s happy about it. 

“Great love stories are tragedies because they have endings. We have so much living to do!” Springing to your feet, you’re jumping up and down as you bounce on the mattress. Luke’s laughter makes a melody with the sounds of the squeaky box spring as he looks at you from below as you whisper-yell, “It’s nowhere near over for us babe! If I’m crazy, and you’re in love with me—then so are you, loser!” You point at him like it’s an accusation, and well, he can’t argue with that, so he hops up to meet you with an earth-shattering grin, “You’re right again.”

The two of you are jumping up and down like idiots in love, the bed squeaking underfoot as you giggle, half spinning, half hugging until Luke murmurs, “But then what happens at the end?”

It’s never been easy, getting to where you two are—trusting each other with the baggage you came to camp with. Always waiting for the other shoe to drop, always wondering when the gods will laugh at your expense. You’re nuzzled against the shirt he stole from your closet, inhaling citrus and the subtle smell of berries. Luke must’ve used your shampoo again—but the fact is clear.

There is no him without you, or you without him.

“There’s no end if we don’t give up. The people in the stories didn’t,” you say indignantly. Staring up into a sea of amber, he’s unblinking. Luke is actually worried about this—you. “Trouble, all your examples of great loves died.”

“Baby…but until whatever end, they were together. Afterlife, or Olympus—it still ended with love. I just think…” You mumble into his chest, “You and me…we’re crazy enough to brave that. Star crossing.... Even if we’re not gods.” He’s deep in thought now. Luke would go the distance every night even if it meant to see you for even a moment. He’d complete any quest if it meant forever with you, jump ship, and leave all his responsibilities if it ensured your safety, even walk through hell to bring you back. And in that moment, the stars seemed like a cakewalk. Because Luke would do it too, for you.

“I know we are,” he chuckles, “I’m sure of it.”

Soon enough, you’re both tucked under the patterned bedspread, eyes slowly fluttering shut in the silence of the shadows and twinkly stars. The last thing Luke Castellan notices as he tucks his nose against your cheek is that everything from your sleepy eyes to the blinking glimmer of the sky is ultraviolet. The stars are within reach, breathing softly against his neck tonight. He thinks he hears you mutter something just as Hypnos takes him from you, “You’re the first person I ever pictured a future with, you know that?” 

As everything fades to black, he knows one thing— you deserve the world. 

He just needs to figure out how to give it to you. 

—

Perhaps it’s the fact that you’re pretty much sleeping on top of each other, or that even in dreams you want each other there, but there’s a dizzying sequence that takes place in the few hours before dawn breaks. Morpheus, the god of dreams, must be laughing wherever he is—even in his domain you two are inseparable. He allows it just this once; two demigods escaping to a different realm together. 

Even gods break the rules if it means for a good story.

—

Winter air blows through the open window of your tower as you wait for your lover to arrive. You cradle the flame in your palm, struggling to relight the lantern through mist and fog and you’re worried he’s lost his way.  Rain patters against the stone walls of your prison, catching onto the tendrils of hair that frame your face. It’s been so long already.

He should be here by now. He promised.

You always worry—if all you can do is anxiously pray for his safe arrival, you’ll do it every time until he’s in your arms again. He calls you his Hero, but the fear that wracks your body as you wait here is not a testament to bravery. Each journey of love he makes is—no matter how many hours, no matter if the sea nymphs drag him by the ankles—he will find a way to your guiding light. Leaning over the windowsill, your eyes squint in the darkness, watching raindrops pelt the Hellespont like bullets instead of water.

Your light will lead him home to you, as it always has.

Even if the weather changes, his devotion does not. Daybreak spreads to the horizon, and Aphrodite answers your solemn prayer—bringing you your love in human form. The sight of him steals your breath away as the goddess has stolen his. He fought his way to your door, curls and clothes covered in seaweed and sand. But your lover never breaks a promise, lifeless eyes reflecting the color of the flame hanging in your window.

Such luck it is to serve the goddess of love and have her take it from you.

The decision to jump is as involuntary as breathing. He’s at the bottom anyway, ready to catch your fall. The air is still cold in the morning light—goosebumps ravage your body as you take your journey to be with him.

You trust that it will feel like summer in his arms again.

—

Another day brings another battle, and the end of the war is near. Octavian will be knocking down your door and everything you’ve worked for has gone to hell. You always knew the best lies to tell—you knew what to say to make him run across the continent to see you. A courtesan meant to be his queen, he’d give up his empire if meant you were alright.

It doesn’t matter now. 

Your love lays in your arms with stagnated breath and his blood is on your hands, yet still he’s yours. He was yours at the height of the empire, and he is yours as you both hide from the rest of the world in this dusty mausoleum. You are his mortal and unending wound, the biggest loss of his career but his heart’s greatest victory. And you’re breathing—that’s what matters to him; nothing else. Everything he touches turns red and by now, the ocean must be sullied by the blood of his troops.

History will remember you both as villains.

But as the poison sinks its fangs into your system, you interlock your bloodied hand with his with not a signle regret.

Love is your undoing, and there is no greater glory than this.

—

The saddest thing about betrayal is that it never comes from your enemies. 

The sand is warm in between his toes and the ship he arrived on is long gone, along with his ex-lover. But in his path to know grief and anger he found you. It was a spiritual awakening in a grove dedicated to your namesake—and from the second he stepped foot into your space, you had to have him.

He’s never encountered a god before, much less one that loved him like you do. You’re made of ichor, sacred, and meant to be untouchable. You believe in him like no other, and he doesn’t think he’s worthy, even if you insist that it’s okay to see eye to eye. Yours are like amethysts on his favorite crown from a home he used to have before Naxos—before he threw it all away for love. 

Now he has nothing. 

Not a coin in his pocket, just the crown on his head. There is no money or titles here on this island, so he doesn’t understand what about him is so appealing to you. The words that come out of your mouth are insane—though that is your domain, he finds it difficult to believe that you are anything but trouble. You promise him a place with him in the heavens when he’s wasted his life away being left behind by the people he loves and the paths he chose to take. A large part of carving new paths is always having an endpoint. 

So he makes one, leaving everything behind again before you can hurt him like he’s been hurt before.

It seems that every path leads to you. Through insurmountable odds, you show up and revel in the pain—you blossom from it, descending into the Underworld and brushing hellfire off your shoulder to save him, a gentle hand outstretched with a promise of eternity and unimaginable riches. He’s been rich before—he had everything in the palm of his hand once upon a time but forever is a path he’s never traveled. 

You toss his crown into the sky until it shatters into starlight and smile at him. There is all the time in the universe to watch the stars together.

—

All the small details in those dreams will be lost to you by morning—an inkling of something that almost was or could’ve been, only marked by the faintest touch of time. It covers your eyes and fades away when Morpheus lifts the haze by the sound of your morning alarm. Luke blinks slowly, waking up with you in his arms and feeling like he’s traveled through different lifetimes without leaving the bed you share. The son of Hermes looks down at you lovingly, face smooshed against his neck, trying to chase an ending to that dream in case the gods feel nice enough to let you have a few more minutes of shut-eye.

Somewhere, everywhere, there is a tug of fate that transcends lifetimes for you two to meet.

But in this life, compared to others, you can only hold onto the truth with a firm hand; that you were there last night under all of the stars—ones you’ve touched and the ones you reach for, dreaming of a life to live together. 

—

"You and I know each other in our bones." - Kurt Vonnegut

ask to be added to taglist

[elmushterri]

2K followers on tumblr and 30K subscribers on YouTube! In celebration, here’s my story. Not a rewrite. This is all a work in progress and subject to change.

Being a HEMA fencer, I’ve wanted a story semi-based on actual swordsmanship and actual fencing techniques.. but fantasy.

It’s a story like… Spiderverse meets Steven Universe meets Owl House meets She-Ra.

It’s called

The Knight’s Handbook

——————

It’s modern Earth but there are supernatural people who protect it like guardian angels called Knights: Humans who’ve died via sacrificing themselves for someone else, and have been revived (not by choice). They protect humans from things as small as tripping over to protecting them from demons, dragons and other dangerous entities.

A Knight can pull their weapon from a magical, glowing scar called their Mortal Wound, the injury they acquired and a sign of the end of their mortality, like how SU Gems can pull their weapons from their gems. A Knight’s weapon can be anything including guns and crossbows, but these shoot magic/energy bullets or arrows.

Knights have their own realm to go to just for each other, (Gallantia) but can live on Earth hiding as normal humans if they wish (so long as they hide the magic scar!)

They function a bit like bees in that there is a Queen, chosen instantly when someone dies by sacrifice according to ‘qualifications of their soul’ (So not completely random like other Knights). Of course, this only happens when the former Queen is killed. Never have there been two Queen Knights at once, so written history goes. Like bees, that would create a huge issue!

Here is the main character and the main antagonist. For the first time apparently ever, there are Two Queen Knights. A mistake of nature, perhaps?

Sidra Saiffudeen

Our main enby is Sidra, she/they. A normal teen turned Queen Knight chosen right after her death, impaled through the chest (where you can see her Mortal Wound symbol) by saving her father. Her design is based on a bee! Not all Knights’ designs are, but I thought I’d lean into Queen Bee stuff.

She’s the ‘Acknowledged’ Queen. Most Knights, ones in support of the past Queen who just died (it’s a mournful period), back Sidra, but think she’s a bit immature. Sidra adores her new people though and vows to be a good Queen. Knight Queens don’t just sit back like Earth Royalty, they’re the most powerful and therefore in battle a lot. The past Queens tended to be adults (The Captain of the Royal Guard was in love with the past Queen (sapphics >:) ) and so having Sidra around is painful but they do their best to teach her.

Then there’s Juliana Fontana, always called Jules. She… is also a Queen Knight. You can tell this because a Queen’s mortal wound symbol is always the same as the Knight Symbol, a sword. Some Knights went traitor to back Jules rather than Sidra. Jules is a very very tired and sneaky girl, but more academically intelligent than Sidra. She’d be a very different Queen, and that’s why the Knights that took her side did so! She hasn’t figured out how to access her weapon or knight form.

The twist? They haven’t seen each other for a long long time… but Sidra and Jules know each other.

Info on Weapons, Mortal Wounds and Knight Forms.

Lastly, The Title’s “The Knight’s Handbook”… what are Knight Handbooks?

Well, for Knights, along with a weapon you can pull from your Mortal Wound, you also have your Handbook! Every Knight has a Handbook with their symbol on it. Like I said, Queen Knights don’t get their own unique personalised symbol, rather they get the default symbol representing all Knights as a species (unfortunate!).

Every Handbook is personalised except for the first couple pages and chapters. The first few pages *always* contain The Rules of Knighthood. One of which is that there Cannot Be Two Queens. But… have these Handbooks with their strict rules on who your friends and enemies are and what you can or cannot do always been a part of the Knights? Or did someone *write* these books for their own purposes? Control?

Handbooks also contain info on how to fight/fence, how to defeat certain entities, anatomy, etc (I’ll figure out more). But, Handbooks also serve as phones! You write something in your handbook for someone else and your writings will appear in *their* handbook! Not sure, but I imagine handbooks can also be used as little sketch hologram projectors (you sketch a map for example or a plan and project it into the air using your book.)

Sidra and Jules may have this giant plot going on around them because they happen to be Queens, but that doesn’t mean they’re not teenagers who want to have fun. A lot of Knights are kids and teenagers and still have their senses of fun, much to the dismay of the serious adult Knights. But they’re all immortal so they’ve got plenty of time to grow up before they hit an age to stop. Being a Knight is tough and scary cause you *could* die at any time in a fight, so adult Knights tend to protect the teens from going out before they’ve trained properly. Queens are not afforded such a luxury and besides, a lot of teen Knights are totally reckless regardless of what the adults say!

So yeah!

That’s an intro to The Knight’s Handbook. I’d love for people to join in like they did with GunnTech and make their own Knights for this, if you feel inspired. It’s kinda like a DTIYS but instead of Draw This In Your Style, it’s… Draw Your Sona for this concept? Working title… /j If you wanna do something, I suppose tag it with “The Knight’s Handbook” with the apostrophe and whatnot, but I do not expect anything, you guys already do so so much 🧡.

Any art or ocs of The Knight’s Handbook will definitely be featured on my next YT vid and I’ll be reblogging (Plus I would love to draw you guys’ ocs, and basically consider them canon since there’s an infinite number of Knights in TKH!)

Thank you for all your support, guys!

[stars-obsession-pit]

I feel like the potential of different methods of treatment of Jason’s Lazarus Pit side effects in DPxDC fics is often underutilized.

Like, yeah, the crossover brings in more ghostly stuff that could help, but it’s contamination on his literal mind/soul (definitely soul in a DPxDC context, idk about in DC canon) brought on by an unnatural resurrection. At least to me, that feels like it should be significant.

Having Danny just reach in and pull it out or Frostbite treat it in a basic procedure feels almost… cheap?

Like, there’s absolutely nothing wrong with it being easy. Stories don’t need to go deeply into the soul healing process; if it’s not meant to be major plot point, it can absolutely be just a quick thing! I’m not trying to insult those stories at all!!

But I feel like there’s a lot of room for more complex or esoteric stuff in there to be explored!

Some ideas for such unique condition things under the readmore:

What if his “revenant” thing some fics use comes into play and the only way to remove it is to fully achieve his revenge? And if that’s the case, what if someone/something else kills the target of the revenge without his influence? Yeah, the person is dead now, he’s technically avenged, but he wasn’t the one to get the revenge. So does it still go away, or is he stuck with it? If he still has it, is it just permanent now or can he just find some other revenge method (ruining their legacy or etc) to break it?

Or oppositely, what if he literally can’t achieve that revenge or his body will die again, its mission complete. Thus, his only way to survive and remove the side effects is to smother all those vengeful urges until they fall silent. Which could make that “someone else kills the target unrelated to him” thing from the previous idea now the good ending - basically guaranteeing his survival since he can’t achieve the vengeance as easily now and can move on. Or maybe it’d be even worse as it forces him to move on regardless, dying randomly when the target of his revenge meets their comeuppance.

What if cycling out the corrupted ectoplasm is a long-term process of meditation (and/or emotional control) - something that takes up significant space in his life and forces him to plan/work around until it’s complete (reduced work hours, avoiding certain situations that might cloud his thoughts, etc)

What if he needs to obtain some sorts of special items/materials (either connected to his own life or more general ghost stuff) for a cleansing ritual, forcing him to go on some sort of quest(s) before he can perform it and recover

What if the tainted spots on his soul can’t be fixed, only excised, leaving other types of consequences for his mind/soul (some that will gradually disappear as the “incisions” heal, others that persist in the scars left behind)

What if the healing process requires him to go over his memories and smooth out the jagged emotional edges left by the Pit, and he isn’t experienced enough with ghostly matters to do on his own, so it forces him to get help from another ghost (and thus bare all his secrets to them)

What if the Pit Rage has to be fully pulled to the front - leaving him completely consumed by its control - before it can be literally fought back and suppressed

What if it can be healed only by taking pieces of healthy ghosts to patch him up - which’d require a lot of smaller ghosts (e.g. blob ghosts) or could potentially only need a couple if he’s willing to harm more intelligent ghosts for it (which Jason likely wouldn’t do, but he’s hardly the only person who’s been revived by the Pits…)

[backstabber128]

Here's the inevitable part 2 of the God of War Ragnarok x Arcane crack AU I had y'all 👍👍

These ideas obliterated me out of nowhere so I definitely went wild with them this time. I fleshed out more of the girls' origins and the drama with Silco who's on a spree for revenge on Vander.

Silco saves little Powder from a pack of monsters and she tries to give him a reason not to finish his quest for vengeance.

Unfortunately, their relationship isn't enough because Silco doesn't believe he can be saved. He uses his mind control power to manipulate Vi's anger + Spartan Rage against herself and Vander. Even so, Powder can't bring herself to kill him after seeing he's not entirely the monster they say he is.

The fight ends with Powder alone with Silco and scarred from the chains of Vi's blades of chaos. And of course Silco banishes Vi into another realm and assumes she would die from her injuries.

(Vander may or may not get revived and come back later stuck in his beast form bc this AU is tragic enough 😭)

I'll leave the rest to interpretation but this was a blast to draw! The Norse mythology theme is still my favorite and drawing the fight scenes and family stuff was the best part.^^

[sethdomain]

dsmp season 2 will be clingy duo living together as depressed people trying to process whatever the fuck happen to themself(it goes as well as you can imagine). Also they killed Dream because dsmp is now my media and i can rewrite it however i want.

I'd say in season 2 in term of clingy lore, it would be them tackling their trauma n also their relationship. Then, theres also Punz who came out alive in the breathtaking season 1 finale where they definitely kill dream, ofc it would lead up to him reviving dream back.

Also it would tied up some loose end that never were resolved, where ranboo and michael when and because its possible because this is in written text format, maybe Techno character might come back in the story where maybe big drama would happen between bedrock bros.

Theres also other lore that is loose end, but im mainly focusing on clingy lore here and things that would've connected to them. So for TOTSMP or badlands stuff idk about their lore bruh. Maybe at most, i would like include quackity or niki stuff.

also heres have ref of tubbo scar

[hazelnutsummer]

Im actually soooo obsessed w your desert duo madoka magica au, its makin circles around my head

Ive been thinking- if grian becomes mortal after scar’s wish, does he ever die while looping trying to save him? I imagine that would be a pretty big shock to a previously-immortal being

OKAY IMMACULATE THOUGHT!!!! THANK YOU!!!

I’d imagine Grian doesn’t die, because if he did, it would be the end of this series (?). Yk. Seeing that he can’t actually revive himself if he does die.

I DO imagine, however, that he gets pretttty close to death after major injuries, almost passing out from the excruciating pain, then he’d have the blistering realisation that he might actually die.

Then he’d do some gay ass stuff like think about his Not boyfriend (Scar) when he died in Walpurgisnacht or something? Gay ppl smh

The first time he gets a limb blown off, he would full on have the worse panic attack he’s had in his life because it’s not growing back and it looks so wrong and it HURTS.. idk I’m throwing him in the air fryer <//33

Maybe Scar finds him like that, and gets him to a hospital, and it would bring a sharp ache every time scar looks at him in his injured state, because it feels unnatural for Grian to look like that, he shouldn’t be this vulnerable but he couldn’t place his mind on WHY…

Thanks for your love!!!!

[evanoshiix]

What are the hero names you currently have? And how did you come up with them?

I have all 5 names for the BAMVA!

All of these except for Cub’s were suggested by @/Andyling_ on twt! They suggested having the BAMVA having explosive pun villain names!

Scar: Dynamight - Dynamite + Might

Lizzie: Enignite - Enigma + Ignite (Previously Enigma)

Jimmy: Bangshee - Bang + Banshee (previously Poltergeist)

Tango: Blizzt - Blizzard + Blitz

Cub: Vexplosive - Vex + Explosive (he doesn’t go out on the field and said he didn’t need an alias, but the other 4 wanted to include him and just assigned him one and it stuck)

The Vigilante team I still need to develop a lot, but I have 2/4 names:

Gem: Pollux (Suggested by @/cantsurviveme on twt) because the constellation Gemini consists of Pollux and Castor, and when Castor died Pollux begged Zeus to revive him.

Grian: Wildcard (knew all the wildcards, seeing as he can mimic he’s kind of a wildcard himself)

Etho and Joel I’ve got no clue as of yet, but I’m still tweaking their powers and stuff anyways

The Hero Commission, while I’ve developed a bit more, but I haven’t figured out many names yet, and the ones who I have I’m still considering and are subject to change:

BDubs: TimeKing (very subject to change, it’s kind of basic, I just took it from “the time king changes the day”)

Cleo: Necromancer (also very basic, however Cleo doesn’t bother with the whole identity hiding thing because she’s a zombie so she can’t really be a normal civilian anyways. Chances are, the others wanted her to find a name and she just picked the first one that came to mind.)

Pearl doesn’t have a set name yet, but I’m probably gonna be looking towards “Hermes” or something connected to/revolving around that

Skizz also does not have a set name yet, but it will be revolving around his “Cupid” theme.

The other 4 I have no clue as of now haha

Finally team Renwood, things are very loose and I’m throwing ideas around for their name ideas!

I could easily just go for “Red King” and “The Hand” due to everything going back to Dogwarts

Other potential names would be “The Hound” and “Listener”

Still though, I’m not very attached to the names and am still looking!

In the end I want all the names to be fun and well thought out for all of them like the BAMVA’s were (thanks again Andy) and I’m still letting myself brainstorm for a bit before setting anything.

[rosquinn]

Thoughts on the dr stone petrification scars

Big disclaimer,

This is just my personal thoughts and stuff I put together n noticed, a subjective interpretation, don't take it seriously Im probably wrong

Some of these are very elaborate while others are just me pointing out details I liked. Sorry. I'll start with the longer rants

This post contains characters (currently) exclusive to the manga and main plot spoilers. Maybe I'm looking to much into it but I swear to motherfucking God there's scar symbolism. anyway

Senku and Taiju

Something that always stood out to me is how similar their scars are both in shape and position, except that Taiju's is cut on the right eye and the points are on opposite sides. Now listen to me... Senku and him are opposites; one's big brained but physically a twig and the other one is the strongest most resistant man you'll ever meet but doesn't really understand anything about science. That's why opposite scars and why they need each other to go on... But their marks are in the same direction because they have the same goal and interests + deep down they're both extremely caring people who would do anything for those around them, despite how different and contrasting their personalities are at first glance.

Oh and Senku's marks are completely symmetrical and do NOT go away. Idk logic perseverance etc + Taijus are more coarse and asymmetrical. To contrast their way of thinking I think. They could be similar because they were the first ones to wake up from the petrification too but you know

Francois & the Nanami brothers

Francois' scar looks like explosion or sound waves. (Manga) Ryusui snaps his fingers to call them creating a similar shape, which is really cool I'll admit. Their scar is on their hand, just like Ryusui's.

So, both Ryusui and Sai also have scars on their hands, except Ryusui's may resemble a glove so pirate-like if we don't count the color + it's on the hand he snaps his fingers with. Mark resembling a rich man or a pirate's glove on the same hand he uses to call his butler and ask for service, and it only covers his fingers. Could be something like a symbol of power/status.

On the other hand, Sai's scars completely cover the lower part of his arms and hands, which are what he uses to code. Sai ran away in order to be able to schedule quietly and is completely locked in his work. Tell me you get it please

Yoo

I'm getting into crack theory with this but please do bear with me. His scar makes him look like Alex, the protagonist of A Clockwork Orange. A Clockwork Orange deals a lot with the theme of unscrupulous rebellion, hurting someone because you think you have complete freedom, and police brutality, which are big parts of Yoo's character. As far as I remember the eyelash marks are left on the MC after being forced to watch 484737 movies showing super brute crimes so he understands what he is doing is wrong and redeems himself. Yoo covers his face a lot to hide the mark and only removes the piece of stone that covers it at the end of the manga when he is 100% team Senku.

IN ADDITION, something important in A Clockwork Orange are the vulgar idioms and slang that teenagers invent and are completely unknown to the viewer and curiously the name and surname of Yoo are formed by informal interjections in Japanese. I've only read the book tho, never watched the movie so if I got anything about the eye marks wrong mb

Tsukasa and Stanley

I really like how similar their scars are, considering both were absurdly overpowered antagonists that had to be defeated using much more advanced science + both kill Senku at one point + their eyes are similar to some extent. I love parallels

Dr Xeno

Scar becomes? White? Splits into pieces? After he's revived a second time and decides to help Senku. Something about his ideals splitting/changing maybe. And being no longer evil thus willing to kill teenagers

Gen

Gen's scar seems to resemble a mouth that changes shape depending on whatever emotion he's feeling (or pretending to feel). I don't have anything else to say genuinely peak character design, specially taking into account that facades are a huge part of his arc and relationships with other characters (let's remember that he's the one to suggest everyone paints their scar again in solidarity with Senku. Hm).

Yuzuriha and Mirai

Yuzu's resemble the roots and vines that protected her body while she was petrified, while Mirai's make her look like a baby chicken breaking out of its shell. I think they're both cute details considering their characters:)

Homura

Considering she's a gymnast who uses her legs a lot to move, I find cool that it's on her thigh. It makes her legs look like they're cracking

Hyoga

Very circular and repetitive, something related to his weapon maybe. I find interesting that he covers them. Insert cursed speech jujutsu kaisen joke

Addition: Ukyo has no visible mark which is also cool on its own way, given that one of his abilities is easily perceiving sounds other people don't notice at all

[benevolentcalamity]

Once a Father, Never a Daddy [Abusive!Doflamingo & Fem!Child!Reader][1/2]

I do not know him enough so I'm not at all confident in my ability to write him, so I apologize in advance. So I'm very happy accepting criticism/tips. (I'm just after Thriller Bark btw.)

Disclaimer: This fic contains graphic depictions of child abuse/neglect and may be considered triggering. Please do not read more if you cannot handle these themes. If you or a loved one has gone through this, you're absolutely not alone, and help/better days are always there.

Also, this is split in two because when you get fics too long, Tumblr just starts lagging and that REALLY annoys me. So I apologize in advance if pacing's not as stellar as most of my stuff. I'll make it up to you.

CURTAINS!

"DADDY, LET ME OUT!!!"

Your little hands bang on the impossibly still door until the skin splits on your knuckles. With all your might you scratch, slap, and pound on the wood, feeling it press a little stronger against you with your resistance. Tears pouring down your cheeks your hair stands on end as the darkness behind you settles in; a punishment you know too well.

"PLEASE DADDY, I'M SORRY!" You scream, hands already raw from struggle. "DADDY, PLEASE, LET ME OUT! I WON'T DO IT AGAIN, I PROMISE!"

A harsh pound that rattles the door, resounding through your room, sends a piercing chill through your stomach and sends you to the floor. Scooting back and hurrying to your feet, you prepare for the doorknob to twist, for him to come barging in and demand you not make any more noise. But this is enough to scare you into silence - and he seems to know that now.

Softly you sniffle, reaching out as the all-too-familiar sound of the knob being secured and locked clicks. Wiping away your tears you stand, reaching and just barely wrapping your hand around it. With all your might you grab and attempt to twist; it doesn't budge an inch.

"... Please let me out..."

There's a sound like feet retreating from the door, and the loneliness finally hits as you back up, defeat weighing your shoulders. Slinking away, you turn back towards your room. First thing to catch your attention is your nightstand, bereft of the lamp Uncle Rossi gave you to cut through the dark. It had a smell to it, somehow, and you really liked it.

Without it you can't stand the dark - and as punishment for not doing what daddy said, it's gone. Wiping a stray tear from your cheek you grab your stuffed lamb Cuppy, putting him on the bed before pitter-pattering to your wardrobe.

creak

Your eyes shoot to the door, back stiffening as your hair stands on end. Every limb freezes, and your heart leaps into your throat. Swallowing, your hands go up to prepare to shield your head, lest your noise have bothered anyone. As your fingers chill to the bone, your knees lock and the darkness creeps back into your senses.

The doorknob twitches. Your hands fly to your mouth to keep from shrieking. Tears revived and leaking, you await on bated breath... It does make daddy especially angry, after all, when you try to hide from him.

You still have the scar on your arm.

A lump forms and engorges, threatening to choke you if you don't make a sound. You learned better from screaming "Go away" or "I hate you", so that's simply not an option. Gritting your teeth you step more into the open, hoping that an effort not to hide would let you get your lamp back. Hiding, running away... all of it is pointless.

After an eternity it jimmies and then turns after a few small clicks, and a familiar black and red lit up by the hallway relaxes you into relieved elation.

"Uncle Rossi-!" You whisper-yell, him putting a finger to his lips and looking behind him.

With quick movements he beckons you forward, and you rush to him in the time it takes to put a plate full of food on the small chair near the door. Kneeling down he pats your cheek and kisses your forehead, giving you a toothy, reassuring grin.

"Don't forget to eat out the window, and drop it once you're done. It's okay, dad won't notice one plate being missing," He whispers, ruffling your hair. "I'm not letting you go to bed hungry." He's done this every time. "... It's going to be okay, little cutie. I promise."

You nod. "... Does daddy still love me?"

For a moment he's quiet. His expression falls solemn, head lifting to look over his shoulder again. With a sigh, his hand ruffles your hair one more time, before suddenly he smiles again.

"I love you!" He chirps. The words wrap around your heart, like a soft fleece blanket, and like a charm, your sorrow is calmed, and your tears finally stop. "Don't forget that, okay? Uncle Rossi loves you."

Nodding, you finally manage to smile. "I love you too, Uncle Rossi."

His head snaps up again, and he pats your head and hurries out. The doorknob again is secured, and his feet fade out quickly. Swallowing, you grab the plate, carefully bringing it to the window. Unlatching it you crouch as the panes swing over your head, setting the plate of food - bouillabaisse - on the ledge and chowing down.

The moonlight peers out from the clouds like your only friend, and peace returns again to your heart.

"... It'll be different tomorrow..." You tremble. "I won't be bad again, I promise..."

Finishing with urgency, you drop the plate and fork into the sea, pushing the window closed and locked. Crawling into bed, you listen to the footsteps above your room, to the sea calming outside. Yawning, you drift into the now placated shadows, hugging Cuppy close to your heart.

___

A sound like something dropping to the ground above you wakes you with a start. Swallowing harshly you're quick to climb out of bed, little time to spare, and wipe your mouth as you rush to your wardrobe. You're just quick enough to grab one of your favorite cotton shirts, a pair of shorts, and a clean pair of underwear as the doorknob is unbound and unlocked.

You swallow, harshly, rushing towards the center again as dad's blond hair peeks atop the door. As he straightens back up, his head doesn't need to look long to find you. Feet planting in place, you watch, hands clenched to keep from shaking and lip wobbling, as he approaches.

"Behave, maggot," He hisses, holding his hand out.

Eyebrow quirked at you managing not to flinch, he impatiently taps his foot as you reach up to it. Harshly he grabs it, yanking you forward. His large pace forces you into a jog, matching his pace with every third step. At first you're staring up at him, waiting for him to even turn his head your way, to ask how you slept, or even just what you want for breakfast. Or maybe, just maybe, that he loves you and today it'll be different. Better, even.

None of this happens. Your bottom lip wobbles as the familiar doors to the bathroom appear past the corner.

"Take a damn bath." He shoves you to another crewmate, not even giving you a glance. "Watch it, keep it away from me."

Your hand reaches for him as you're guided into the bathroom. "Daddy?" Without a glance or gesture, your lip wobbles further, heart tying in knots. "DADDY!"

A dark cloud weighs on your shoulders again, guiding you to the bathtub as said crewmate puts some soap beside it and a towel. Patting your head in pity, he kneels down to murmur in your ear.

"Disobedient children aren't rewarded." The words are an icy dagger in your stomach. "... If you want your daddy to love you, maybe you should be a good child that deserves to be loved."

With that you're left alone, breath hitched in your throat as your heart runs cold. Staring at your reflection in the water, you cast aside your dirty clothes, stepping into it and sitting. The lukewarm water manages to chill you to the bone, to where you need to hug your knees to feel warm. Swallowing the lump in your throat, you glance at the door, waiting... and waiting...

You sigh, pinching your nose and turning sideways to completely submerge. Curling up, your [h/c] hair waves out in tendrils as your legs minutely twitch in unease. As your lungs slowly grow sore, you momentarily wonder if it's even possible to be good... What did you do? Why won't dad look your way?

Sitting back up, you gulp down air as the answer to your question comes from the red syrup of your shampoo.

"... Just do what daddy says?" Would that make him happy? Will he love you? Do what he says without complaining... Yea, it's as simple as that, isn't it? "... I'll be a good girl. I won't complain about daddy's work."

Yea. It's as simple as that.

Rinsing your head clean, you comb the conditioner from your hair under the running water. Reaching you grab the towel and brush, drying off and putting yourself together, painstaking as the process of brushing your hair is. All the same you finish, tying it back. Sliding back into your shoes you jump up onto the knob, it turning in your hold, and let the door swing open, taking you with it. Lowering back onto your feet, you turn-

"Get your ass to the poop deck." You're shoved into a pace, which you continue with a nod. "Captain's orders, help out with scrubbin' if you want breakfast."

"I understand."

__

It's unbearably hot.

Dunking your brush in the cold, soapy water, you wince at the glare of the sun on the sea, washing away dirt and scum. It takes a few swipes, being as small as you are, but you manage. It's a process that sees you biting your lip so hard in concentration that it bleeds, but you do your best, scrub until your arms are sore, and repeat.

"-and as I was saying, Rosinante, it's complete bullshit."

Dad's voice makes you perk up, and you turn a bit to see where he's coming from. A big smile is what you present as he and Uncle Rossi ascend from below deck, waiting for him to look your way. Dad doesn't but Uncle Rossi gives you a massive smile and thumbs up before dad jabs him, regaining his attention.

"We've had issues with this same supplier awhile now. The frequency of our visits is starting to annoy me."

Standing up from scrubbing, you take a deep breath. Pittering over to him you find his leg, swallowing. Rearing, you take a small leap, wrapping your arms around it like a peach tree.

"Daddy~!" You let out, hugging him tightly-

A harsh kick to your stomach, sending you all the way back to your bucket and straight onto your ass.

...

... Oh.

I'm not doing enough... You turn back to the bucket and brush, biting back tears. Just keep going... Do your best. Daddy will love you if you do.

All the same, your tears keep falling onto your hard work.

A hand on your head, ruffling your hair, tugs you from your sorrow. Looking up, Uncle Rossi crouches down beside you, pointing at your bucket. Now it's too cloudy and dirty to clean efficiently. Managing a nod, you wipe your tears with your arm, standing up and dumping the bucket.

Keeping a tight hold on it, you pause just as you're at dad's side, gaze turning from below deck to him.

"... Do you love me?" You ask.

Not even a glance. You raise up on your tippy-toes, tilting your head.

"Daddy?" You ask again. "Do you love me?"

Lowering, you wait, staring and waiting for what... really has to be forever. Before long though tears blur your vision, and you bite back a sniff as you rush below deck. Not good enough - you're just not good enough yet. If you work to the bone, if you're so to-the-letter it's painful, that's when he'll look your way. You just have to remember that.

Be perfect, and nothing less; push past your limits; endure and don't cry. It'll be unbearably hard, but if you manage to do all of this, dad has to love you.

It's not a long walk to where there's more water by any means. Operating the pump, that's the real test, but you manage just by jumping up onto it. It pinches down on your wrist every time it comes back down, but it doesn't hurt long. Rubbing the red marks it makes, you begin the arduous task of carrying the bucket.

Sloshing and rocking against your body, you stiffen your legs anytime you feel yourself wobble. When the water reaches and touches your chin you wince, staying still until it stops. Every maybe three steps and you're losing your grip, but still you try.

Something swipes the bottom of your feet, and your shrieks are drowned by the water pouring onto your face as you fall onto your butt. Bucket landing perfectly onto your head to hide your face, the cruel laughter of passing crewmates resounds through the rotting wood.

"Better mop that up, kid! You made that mess!"

For a moment you're stuck, legs too heavy to move. You try to move your arms, but there's no feeling. Swallowing, you try to open your mouth to complain, but the lump in your throat takes the sound before you make it. A mix of tears and water pours down your face, your jaw starting to wobble. Biting your lip harshly you force yourself back to your feet.

The bucket slides off your head, falling harshly to the floor. For a moment your gaze turns back to the steps leading above deck.

... Mop first.

Clutching your shirt tightly, your shoes squish against the floor as you go to find the mop, usually near the bathroom. Sniffling harshly, you wipe your face, shaking your head like it'll get rid of this horrible lump. Still your lips purse, and still everything hurts when the supply closet door opens. Reaching, you take the mop in your hands and take a deep breath.

Do your best...

'Watch it, keep it away from me.'

It. You.

... Get out of the way. Maybe that's what he wants.

As much as you want to go back, to try again, maybe it'll just be better to put yourself away. It'd be... a nice reprieve, maybe. And maybe they'll have something good to eat for lunch, seeing as you might not get breakfast after all. That's just what happens sometimes, after all.

You want to puke; to cry; to scream; to just run to Uncle Rossi. Everything and anything feels more like a dead end the more you think, until you've come up blank on what else to do.

"... I hate this..." You whimper, rubbing your arm as you pitter-patter back to your room. I don't know what's wrong with me...

... Someone, please...

Tears well up in your eyes.

Someone tell me what's wrong! Tell me what's bad! Please tell me, someone-!

Your pace picks up, eventually zooming past countless doors and shapes.

Just... How much longer...?

In what must have been a blink you're safe back in your room. For a second you turn back to the door, cheeks waterlogged and red, waiting for footsteps. Wanting someone to just scoop you up and hold you, tell you what's wrong with you - or that maybe nothing is... Is there?

Meandering to your window, you crack it open, and dad's voice is the first thing you hear.

"... Where's the problem?"

"What do you mean, Doflamingo sir?"

"I mean, where's the fucking maggot." Your heart feels a sharp, cold sting.

"She- it went back below deck. I can fetch it so it can keep scrubbing-"

"I didn't give it an order to do chores, I gave you an order to keep it away from me. Looks like it knows what that means. But enough about it. We're arriving to Foam Town shortly, for the supplier. Don't forget the orders."

"Get the Devil Fruit, and kill him, right?"

"Mhm. I don't take kindly to someone holding out on me. Especially when I've been so kind and generous. That won't happen again, though."

"Do you need Corazon to keep an eye on the kid?"

"Tch. It won't be an issue. Just as long as it doesn't get in the way of our business, I don't care what it gets up to... Ugh, but I'm going to hear it cry at some point today. Have someone get it some food."

"Understood, sir."

Backing up once you hear the sound of heavy footsteps, you meander to your shelf. Tugging a worn book from it - a collection of fairytales dad let you get when he looked at you - you hurry to your bed, jumping to get onto it without a hitch. Swallowing harshly you open it to a page with a family of rabbits stealing food from a mean old farmer's garden.

You like these stories, very much. But the pages are falling out, and you can't ask for a new one right now.

Just when you're absorbed enough to where the lump in your throat is gone, there's a knock at the door.

"Got your lunch, kid." That's not Uncle Rossi or dad. The door opens a crack and a bowl is haphazardly dropped on the small table. "We're landing soon. Be on your best behavior."

"... Thank you," You manage, the door slamming your reply.

Putting the book down you slide out of bed, going to receive the meal. It's a lobster risotto, dad's favorite. Tears well up again as you take the bowl back to your bed to eat and read. Dad doesn't care that you do so, you've been told, but you're still careful.

"... Foam Town. Okay." You mutter, something lighting up in your chest.

... This time, it's different.

[phantom-dc]

Double Jason AU?

Jason, fresh after the whole "2 Jokers/Bruce practically lobotomizing him" is sent back in time to before he made himself known to Batman. He decides that since a reguler crimelord gets beat up less by Bats then his failure Robin, Jason keeps his identity secret. But this presents a problem:

Jason worries that Bruce will find out that his coffin is empty, and will come looking. Talia offers an unusual solution: A cloned 15-year-old body to put back in. Exept that Jason is not one to stay down & the body wakes up.

Talia is worried, but Jason is a quick thinker; and has Talia present the clone as the original Jason, claiming she revived him as a gift to her beloved. Bruce is extatic and let's him be Robin again. Tim initially decides to step down, but later steps back in as Black Bird, unable to say goodbye to the vigilante life. (Little Jason is Jaylad for easier reading)

It's around this time that Red Hood becomes known in Gotham. Batman only knows him as a new contender in Gothams underworld, but the guy isn't a big problem (since Jason didn't do his whole "choose me or Joker" plan he managed to keep low on Batman's radar, tho still on it). Sometimes he helps the Bats out, even jokes a bit with the younger heroes but stays far away from Batman.

Then Joker decides that he can hurt Batman again by actually killing Robin (there is no way he's letting that birdie live, not when Batman got so deliciously violent after being "nearly" killed) and kidnaps Jaylad. The only reason the boy lived? Because Red Hood saved him and beat the Joker to death, Batman had to save him with the Lazarus Pit in the Batcave. Nightwing & Blackbird are gratefull, but Bats is furious that Red Hood killed and attacks him. In the fight, Red Hood loses his helmet and Bruce recognizes him. He looks a bit older, has some scars, a white streak & green tinted eyes, but that is definitly Jason.

Jason, not wanting to be "the failure Robin" again, lies that he himself is a clone, a testrun of the aging process for "a different project". Bruce asks what project & knowing he shouldn't tell Bruce about Damian yet, Jason admits to a thought that had been haunting him since Jaylad woke up: What would Bruce do if things had played out differently at the warehouse. It works, and while not coming out unscathed, Jason escapes. Bruce believes Jason is the evil clone, and Jaylad is the good original.

Oddly enough, a few weeks later Red Hood gets a visitor. It's Robin. He at first wants to fight Jason to "save" him, but realises that Jason has no intention of that. Evil clones don't usually offer pancakes. They like the same stuff, and slowly develop this odd big/little brother dynamic. Big J & Little J manage to keep it a secret for a while, until Tim finds out. He was curious where Jaylad snuck off to & followed him.

Honsetly thats it so far, not sure where to take this from here. Jason still became the Outlaws,and now there is a magic Robin again. How will Damian react & will the fam ever find out that the Red Hood is the original? How will they react when they realize Jason rather stayed dead then become part if the family again?

[extrastranszanepropaganda]

MCD Rewrite - Gene

BRUUUHHHHHHH his palette FOUGHT me dude. I wanted it to include red with some blue undertones to reflect his brother, while at the same time he needed to be wearing mostly black and stuff since he’s more cloak and dagger + his magick type. So hopefullyyyy it comes across

Text on the image is under the cut!

+ Older brother of Dante, after their mother left them, he took care of him

+ He was very protective and supportive of Dante (aka can, has, and will beat tf out of transphobes)

+ Was born with magicks, specifically the ability to overshadow (basically possession + meat puppets) and would use this to steal/ get opportunities for him and his brother, much to Dante’s chagrin

+ Conflicted, one day Dante vents to an adult he thought he could trust about the moral delima but uh oh! The bitch was lying and cannot be trusted. He rallies the town and they go on a witch hunt, burning Gene at the stake (part of this can be seen on Dante’s sheet)

+ Thanks to working with the guards, he comes back as a shadow knight. This new magicks melded well with his innate abilities, allowing him to not only quickly climb the ranks, but to also become shadow itself.

+ I like to think that his power motifs differ from the straight up flame abilities most of the knights wield, because (A) not only does it blend well with his powers, but his personality too and (B) the dood is a bit scared of fire

+ Most of his body is made up of burn scar tissue, and thanks to revival magicks he’s able to still move around p easily and stuff, but he still has to wear compression clothes, treat the burn sights with care, and has horrible tremors. Not to mention his fine motor skills are basically gone

+ He’s got a quiet but authoritative Deep raspy voice thanks to being a burnt chicken nugget

Extra Notes

+ He becomes desaturated when uses smoke abilities (specifically when he turns into smoke

+ Compression wraps and shirt to help w burn scars pain and he has more underneath his baggy pants and such

+ There is a scar chart revealing burn scars covering most of his body, all the way up to his neck

+ He/Him

+ Age: 21

+ Height: 6’ 1”