#but we're stopping here

[sophieswundergarten]

I'm still considering @bi-demon-ium's post about what would happen if Milligan adopted Kate before regaining his memory fully.

Because, imagine:

Milligan has been looking out for Kate and the other kids for a while, now, and he's very glad that they're finally off of this island safely. He loves all of them, of course, but he can't help but feel especially connected to Kate. Something about her just sticks out to him, either because he's had to save her from herself more than a few times or because of her spunk and attitude or maybe because she was the first child he felt like really looked him in the eyes and saw him since he'd started helping run the tests.

Either way, he feels a really strong connection to her, and after he escaped Curtain's men on the island, he began feeling twinges of memories returning. Throughout his time on the island, he kept experiencing odd sensations of déjà vu, but nothing concrete. A few of the agents that the team ended up rescuing from the Institute seemed to recognise him, and he could sporadically recall some of their names, so he became fairly certain that had been an agent at some point, but there wasn't much else getting clearer.

In the weeks after Curtain's defeat, Milligan began experiencing disorienting memory flashes which, while still not helping him piece anything together, gave him horrible migraines and would, on occasion, short out his awareness of where he was presently. These would always pass, but when they happened Kate was right behind him, helping him sit down and running to get him water (She eventually began keeping a bottle in her bucket when it became apparent this would keep happening), and she was consistently proven to be the best out of all of them to bring Milligan back to the present.

As the other kids began finding their way to their families, with Constance and Reynie being adopted, and Sticky's parents coming to find him, everyone began to settle into their lives. But Kate had yet to return to the circus.

"Oh, of course I love the circus, and I'd love to get back to them, but Milligan still needs me here. I can't leave him."

After this goes on for nearly a month, Mr. Benedict begins talking to Milligan about adopting Kate. He's been through it a few times now, after all, he'd be happy to show Milligan how to do all of the paperwork (And maybe make a few bribes in the right places, since Kate's technically a semi-unregistered wild child who ran away). It takes a bit longer for Milligan to broach the subject with Kate, but when he does, she just looks at him in surprise.

"Well," She begins, slowly, "I can see how that would be nice, for legal reasons and everything, of course, but I kind of thought that's what we were already doing? Just, without the paperwork."

Milligan has a hard time keeping himself from bursting into tears right then and there, but he sweeps her up into a huge hug and if a few tears slip out as his brain sighs with the correctness of holding her in his arms, and if Kate finally relaxes as if she feels he could protect her from anything in the world, well, that's between them.

Life slips into a routine for them, and though there were a few close calls with Milligan's memory flashes while he was doing things like cooking breakfast that led to Number Two pulling a few extra fire extinguishers out of the closet, and a couple of times that Kate would find him standing outside in the rain, staring at the puddles in the backyard with blank eyes and a slightly frustrated expression, as if there were some secret hidden in the muddy ground that he couldn't quite find, for the most part, things were going alright.

As Milligan slowly, very slowly, began to understand himself, he began to understand Kate, too. There were times she seemed too ready to jump up from a meal and help, too prepared to drop whatever she was holding and run to his side, like she was afraid of finding some terrible tragedy when she arrived. She offered to do the shopping one day when Number Two couldn't quite find the time, and though she came back with everything they needed (and a few things they didn't strictly need) with money from the budget she had been given somehow leftover, the sharp, frugal expression on her face when she counted over the food again as she started to put it away was far too serious for a twelve year old.

Milligan's heart broke for Kate every time he saw how growing up alone had affected her, even if she couldn't see it. Of course she couldn't see it; she was a child, she wasn't supposed to see it, she shouldn't need to. Every time he saw her expression harden as she tried not to cry, before she remembered she could now; every time he watched her freeze when a knock came at the door, subconsciously positioning herself in front of Constance and between the perceived threat and the boys, before she relaxed when she saw Milligan himself go to answer it, trusting him to protect them; every time he went looking for her and found her curled up in the vents, breathing shallowly and refusing to come out until he assured her they won't send her away, she doesn't have to run anymore, she's welcome and safe here, and then when she slowly unfurls and drops heavily into his arms, burrowing into his chest and sighing deeply as she breathes him in — All of those times and more, he feels a growing resentment and even a simmering hatred for whoever Kate's father is.

This man who found whatever else he had going on more important than protecting his daughter, as if anything could be more important than the child he wanted so desperately to hug, wanted nothing more than to protect and love, but had to watch as she shut herself away and steeled her body to be prepared to face any and everything all on her own. What Milligan wouldn't give to find this man, to hunt him down and shake him, to explain to him exactly how badly he'd messed up, and then leave him somewhere he could never come back from; somewhere he could never return from and hurt Kate again.

Sometimes she'd mention a task she had experience with, or a time she'd "lived off the land", or recounted her ability to perform a grownup's job just as well, with a sense of pride in her skills, and the adults in the room would exchange sorrowful glances over her head. The first time she said she'd never played on a proper playset, since she'd been too young when her dad had left, and the orphanage never had any safe equipment, Milligan sat straight up, and the next day they went to the nearest park and stayed there until dark, Kate spending hours on the swings as his strong arms pushed her higher and higher until she felt as free as when she was flying through the air on the trapeze.

One day, as the two of them were sitting at the kitchen table, eating a late breakfast since they'd been up half the night because Milligan took her stargazing, Kate offhandedly says, "You know, Milligan, I've never really minded that my dad left, but now, I think that I'm glad he did. Because otherwise I would never have met you."

Milligan stops dead as he's buttering his toast, trying very hard not to overreact and shatter this moment where Kate is humming contentedly and swinging her legs. Slowly, carefully, deliberately, he responds, "Well, I'm glad that I met you too, Katie-Cat."

[riacte]

not romantic not platonic but a secret third thing [what would happen between earth and the moon if the earth stopped spinning as illustrated by xkcd randall munroe]

[ranilla-bean]

✨ The Mercy of Magpies 《喜鵲之恩》 ✨

3...2...1... takeoff! 🚀 @ash-and-starlight & @ranilla-bean here to launch our project for @zukkabigbang2024 🐦‍⬛🐦‍⬛

Rating: M Fandom: Avatar the Last Airbender Pairing: Sokka/Zuko Chapters: 4/15 Beta: @faux-fires

Tags: Alternate Universe - Space, Space Opera, Depictions of Violence, Minor Character Death, Dilf Zukka, War, Han solarpunk, loosely inspired by Red Cliff (dir. John Woo), Decolonisation, Ghosts, the narrative is haunted, Getting Together, Slow Burn, eventual sexual content (i prommy), BBL Ozzy, thematically relevant magpies, interplanetary old man yaoi saves the galaxy

Summary:

In the XXXth span of the galactic war against the Phoenix King, the Avatar, Master of the Four Elements, summoned his trusted advisor to his side… Avatar Aang, prosecutor of the long war against the Fire Nation, tasks General Sokka with the recruitment of a secret friend hidden on his old home planet Emptiness II, razed a century ago. There, Sokka finds an impossible community, where peoples from all quadrants of the galaxy have taken root—headed by the Phoenix King’s own son Zuko. As he comes to trust them, Sokka becomes invested in the community. But war is barrelling towards them, and he must harness the spark between himself and Zuko to save Emptiness II… and the rest of the galaxy.

check out the rest of the chapter 1 art here!

[lucabyte]

On autonomy, and what it means to be Obliged to Help.

Bonus:

[sprnklersplashes]

shout out to leigh bardugo for creating a disabled character who can be described as "he doesn't let his disability stop him from achieving what he wants (threat)"

[mr-malumm]

Cringetober day 16: something youve been bullied for 💥

Im a 2014 onceler fan, its officially been 10 years and im not over him 🥰

[xxplastic-cubexx]

me Omw to annoy you about more Francesca content 😼😼

you and my entire inbox my friend strap in everyone this is gonna be The Francesca Mega Collection. part one The Bed Collection ft You HAVE To Click/Tap To Read Anything ESPECIALLY The Asks

thank you for joining me for the Francesca Bed Collection im going to pass out

[siffarooni]

grow back your sharpest teeth, you know my desire

[justpassingbyoursht]

I've seen some people say some character art downgraded from 1 to 2 and while i agree about some poses not being as dynamic and some of the art being unfinished (early access tho) and the colors not being as dope, and some of the gods feel different

but i wanna specifically ramble about Artemis best gurl for a bit

this is my girlie in Hades 1

I've been thinking about the differences from 1 to 2, and I think in here, she's presenting herself as the Goddess of Hunting.

she looks a bit menacing, she looks sharp, she looks like she just got here, the angle she's looking at you it's not very direct it's like she's measuring you from head-to-toe kinda way, she also has that greenish light which feels kinda like an aura. she's down to business!

and when we look at her in Hades 2

She looks confident still, and you can see her weapons just as clearly, but her pose, and her smile? she's like, laid back, she's not quite posing to create an impression, she doesn't have that greenish aura, she's there in the flesh, she's not really presenting as a goddess in particular... she looks more welcoming, a bit softer looking... she looks like she's just stopped for a chat, while in 1 it's like she's in the middle of something

and when you stop to think about it? she is. she is just chatting with her friend. Melinoe is her friend, she called her Sister.

We're much more closer to her as Melinoe than we were as Zagreus. bc while she does become friends with him in H1, she's more of a long distance friend. we were building our bond with her in H1.

But here? in H2? she's known Mel for years... she kept it a secret from other gods... she's got those accessories thingies with the 4 colors. not only are we close friends we even got a friend bracelet thing going on with her!! Melinoe is a precious friend to her from what i've seen so far.

Why would she pose and be a bit distant with her friend? we know Artemis is a bit closed off from people, she prefers being in the woods with the animals than other gods i recall her saying that to Zag, but Mel? Mel is a dear friend, she sounds much more casual from the get go with her than with Zag because we have a strong bond with her already

In Hades 1 we just got to know her, so she's more closed off, she is more business like, she is distant, she is The Goddess of Hunting

In Hades 2 she is our friend 💖

that. is the difference

[faeriekit]

Health and Hybrids (XXVIII)👽👻💚

[I can't remember the original prompt posters  for the life of me but here's a mashup between a cryptid!Danny, presumed-alien!Danny, dp x dc, and the prompt made the one body horror meat grinder fic.]

🖤Chapter navigation can be found here🖤 Click to browse previous updates.

💚 Ao3 Is here for all parts 💚 (now featuring mediocre mouseover translations, only available on a computer)

Where we last left off... Danny has another hashtag breakdown! Man, we've got a lot of these, huh? It's YJ's fault this time; whoopsie doodles! ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

Trigger warnings for this story:  body horror | gore | post-dissection fic | dehumanization (probably) |  my nonexistent attempts at following DC canon. On with the show.

💚👻👽👻💚

“Danny,” Diana says from the door.

Danny looks up from his place in the book. It’s definitely aimed at younger kids, but it’s a pretty wordy picture book; there are a couple paragraphs he can’t quite parse, but he’s making pretty good progress on the words he can’t recognize.

It’s a story about a cat who misses its mother. Danny tries not to relate to it too much.

“Hm?” he asks, flipping the front flap of the dust cover over his current pages to mark his place. The book goes back onto the nightstand, beside his space shuttle; Danny uses the railing beside his bed to support himself stepping up and out of his wheelchair, leaning on the railing until he can figure out…wait, where’d he leave his old people walker?

“This walk is long. You will want your chair.”

Well, then. Couldn’t she have said that before Danny did all that pulling? Danny falls back into his chair, kinda peeved. “Fine.”

Diana smiles. She doesn’t have to wear the mask around him anymore— Danny’s pretty sure that his injuries have been declared as clotted, or sealed, or whatever at this rate. They for sure swabbed his ectoplasm and came to some kind of conclusion, anyway, which means he only looks gross, but isn’t, like…actively leaking fluids.

On the one hand, gross! But, well, you know. Nothing for it but bandaids and time.

And her face looks nice. Danny hadn’t known what she’d looked like, before. She smiles when she sees him. Her light eyes crinkle, and her lips turn up… She’s nice. Danny’s sure that she’s only there to be in charge of him in case he gets scary, but she’s in charge of him and she’s nice. She doesn’t have to be nice; lots of people have been in charge of him and been mean about it. There was that one guy who kept holding him—with the taser—

(Time slips away from him, a little. When he gets back to the world in front of him, Diana is carefully looking at his face, the back of her hand stroking the back of his.)

Danny’s in his chair. He’s not…there. He’s in his chair, on a big space station (????) with a bunch of really colorful fighters on it, and Diana is touching his hand (that’s so much weaker and slower than it used to be) and he’s not hungry and he’s only scared because of memories. He’s safe. He’s not being pinned down by the neck so that they can strap down his wrists and hips to the table—they’re not shocking him—he can move his fingers, he’s not stuck in his core—

His core throbs. Danny bites into his bisected lip, and tries not to cry.

“Are you alright?” Diana asks, voice gentled. The soft touch of her hand doesn’t stop. “We can wait. There is no—“

Danny shakes his head, and takes his hand away so he could wipe at his eyes. It’s fine. Bad memories are everywhere: in the walls, in the floor, in the ceiling, in the hands of people taking care of him. That’s not… There’s nothing Danny can do about that. That just. Takes time.

…He think he might have that time. Now. He thought he would die for good in that five by five box, waiting for something that would finally end him instead of just keeping him in a cycle of injuries he never fully healed from.

But now he’s not. He’s here.

He wants to keep going.

“Alright,” Diana says, slow and careful. “Hold on.”

Danny doesn’t hold on—or, well, you know, he engages his core muscles and all that, but he doesn’t cling to his arm rests or to the frame of his chair because he knows that Diana is really, really strong, but she also really, really doesn’t want to hurt him.

She rolls him out of the medical wing and into the space station proper. Danny feels like he’s been here before, but he doesn’t remember it super well. Maybe it was when he was sick or something? Either way, a lot of different people wave at him as they go by—or just straight up stare, if they’re rude—and Danny generally just watches people rush by, carrying all kinds of equipment, and a potted plant, and a…starfish in a jar…?

Oh, the starfish waves at him???? Danny waves back because?? What??

Danny rolls to a stop at a smooth, cylindrical elevator. It looks like a giant test tube.

…Oh boy. Danny takes a deep breath, and holds it. Reflexively. Sure, this elevator probably isn’t like being dunked into water to see if his body absorbs ambient oxygen from the atmosphere or if his biology is truly not oxygen-based, but the memory is. Bad.

They go upwards. Nothing happens but Diana’s pushed button.

Danny exhales.

They get off at a section of the base Danny’s never been to, and it's essentially just a long, somewhat narrow hallway. The walls are actually painted a creamy off-white here, and there’s…like…decorative panels towards the base of his wheels trailing down the hallway? An orange ceiling, too?

Huh??

The rooms are numbered, but they’re not plain steel like in other areas downstairs; some of them have stickers, or drawings, or marker written straight onto the door itself. They look...cozy...? Danny thinks so, anyway, compared to the rest of the ultra high tech space base.

They roll to a stop in front of a door. It’s got a number on it, same as all the others, but there’s a box cutout taped to the front of it. The—

—The print is of the same style of space shuttle Danny keeps next to his bed, inked onto glorious cardboard medium.

Danny stares.

“Gegrapa,” Diana urges, so gentle. Too bad that, uh, Danny doesn’t know that one. He looks at her. She mimes touching the door— Oh. Got it.

Danny leans forward just enough to touch the door with his fingertips.

The door says something in a robotic voice, but the synthesizer is too mangled for Danny to make out the words. The door slides open horizontally into the wall, instead of the way the other doors open like portals or from below, and it’s kind of cool?

Inside is a bedroom. Danny stares.

…No, it’s actually a bedroom. Not a medical wing, not a cot, not a repurposed conference room or—it’s actually got a bed in it. Like. A real one. There’s a wooden headboard and it’s got a mattress on it that’s thicker than a VCR.

There’s constellation sheets on a bed big enough to curl up on.

There’s a nightstand, a small desk on the far wall—there’s a little lip where the bedroom dips into a tiny sitting room, a small television on a table and a small table and chair. It’s kind of…it’s kind of like a little hotel suite.

Danny’s mouth goes dry.

He doesn’t move, and Diana doesn’t wheel him in. “It’s okay,” Diana says, and—Danny almost flinches when she touches his hair, but it’s only Diana, who’s never hit him, and they’re fine. He’s…safe. It’s safe. He’s safe here. “Do you want to go in?”

Danny doesn’t move. His hands don’t touch the wheels. They’re shaking; he puts his hands in his lap and he tries to breathe. “…What?” he asks hoarsely.

“A rum for my Danny,” Diana murmurs, quietly. Danny’s heart throbs at the possessive. “You are healthier now. You do not need doctors every hour, but only sum hours. You cuðe spenda more time here, all ana.”

Words go by so fast even at Diana's smooth, unhurried pace— and Danny licks dry, split lips. He looks around the room—and the room is small, sure, but they're in space. Space will always be a premium. Even in this small room, though, the furniture is sparse and placed distant from each other…distant enough that Danny can wheel around freely in his chair.

There’s a Moon clock display hung on the wall over the doorway, and Danny can faintly see the outline of what he assumes is the current lunar phase as seen from Earth.

Having the lamp isn’t exactly the same as glow-in-the-dark-stars, and thank goodness for that. If it had been, Danny might have cried.

(Or, he realizes, something burning in his eyes that isn’t ectoplasm, maybe he is crying.)

“...Me?” Danny asks, terrified to know the answer. Is this room for him?? Is he getting a room here? Is he supposed to stay here? On the moon?! Is he supposed to stay with everyone here, in a tiny room, where there’s nowhere to go and nowhere to escape?

…It’s a bedroom. It’s already so much more than the stupid guys in white ever gave him.

“Yes,” Diana says, and lets go of his hair. “Use it, or do not. Sitta here, or sitta in the medical bay, but now you have two choices.”

Okay. So Danny has choices. He swallows his feelings—they taste a lot like snot—and rolls himself inside to inspect the room.

There’s another little fridge inside the sitting area. It’s not right next to the bed like it is beside Danny’s cot, but it is the same style of fridge. When Danny pops the door open, it has the same styles of snacks. Fig Einsteins. Peanut butter squeezies and applesauce squeezies and yogurt squeezies. Protein shakes in bottles. Pedialight. Hummus packs.

Danny might still need someone to open the snack packs for him. That’s kind of a high dexterity food, if he thinks about it.

“If you wish to sitta here, we will visit you all you like. There is a belle at your bed,” Diana says, and walks in with all her purple scrubs and tied-up hair to point to a little button on his nightstand. It’s red. It’s got a little smiley face sticker next to it, and Danny thinks he recognizes the style from one of his nurse’s bestickered name tags. Belle is probably a direct cognate for bell. He’ll be able to get everyone to come up here if he needs help.

…Okay, that’s kind of nice. To have personal space. He hasn’t had that since… Danny’s eyes squint as he thinks; he rubs an eye. Wait, when had he been squatting under a conference table? Was that a real memory??

Diana is very tall, even in the little space, but when she ducks her head, the gesture makes her a little smaller, a little more manageable for Danny’s lower-than-usual-gaze. Now that he can see her expression, she looks soft, and even uncertain, even though she looks stone and strong on the television when she goes out to fight. “Do you like it?” she asks.

Danny fidgets.

He—does. He likes it a lot. The room doesn’t have any windows, but if Danny moved all his things in here, got used to being able to come and go, and people coming in and out…this space could be just another space. It’s quieter than the medical ward. More peaceful.

…The room is utterly devoid of other people.

(Danny thinks of The Box. Danny thinks of being in The Box.)

(Danny doesn’t like remembering The Box.)

“I am scared,” Danny admits to his twitching thumbs, his fingers itching for a fidget toy or one of his physical therapy tools. Diana’s face immediately drops.

“Why are you scared?”

I’ll be alone Danny wants to say, but he doesn’t know the word for alone and he struggled with phrasing. “No…people here.”

“That is triewe. You would have more dīegolnes here,” Diana agrees, and straightens out of her crouch. “Is that good, or bad?”

It isn’t good and it isn’t bad…? Danny isn’t sure how to phrase it. It’s neither. Being alone is just scary.

“You not hurt me,” Danny tries, knowing he’s missing some connecting word in the middle. He ignores how Diana comes back to kneel beside him, because if he looks at her, he won’t say anything. “Do not.”

“No,” Diana says, from beside and below him, gentle, careful. “We do not.”

No. They don’t. Danny swallows. “Bad…hurt me.” He doesn’t know the word for Earth or planet or even downstairs, so he just meekly points downwards.

Diana stills. It’s like watching Vlad’s Maddie cat spot a bird to hunt down. Danny tries not to feel pinned. “On eorþegearde?” she asks, still light, still gentle. Danny can hear a shadow of steel, though, and he counts himself lucky that she’s never treated him like an enemy. Danny quickly nods. His eyes squeeze shut.

“Who?” Diana asks feather-light.

Danny doesn’t want to tell them what he is. Admitting the name of the agency hunting him itself would be given in.

…But maybe if he doesn’t say the name…and they...and they promised they'd help hide him...

He wants to be right. Danny wants to be right that they're nice, and that they want to help him. Danny wants to be right that they want to protect him. As long as he never, nevernotevernever tells them he's a ghost...

Maybe someone will help him. This time.

“Bad,” Danny repeats, because he genuinely has no idea how to translate?? “Wants…hurts me? For…” WHAT WORDS DOES HE KNOW? Danny gives up and just draws a y-shaped autopsy incision on his chest. It goes down from his collarbones to his belly button.

Diana watches. Her eyes are sharp.

“Do you feel safe with the staff dunstæger in medical?” Diana is quick on the ball with the question and Danny nods quickly—he’s never alone there, and no one’s ever hurt him, and people whose job it is to help people are always coming in and out, and Medical helps them too.

“Good,” Danny whispers. “Talk…talks to me.”

“Ealne weg,” Diana affirms firmly. Whatever that means. “We will cepa you safe.”

You safe and we is all Danny needs to hear. He could probably cry by himself, but Danny wants the comfort anyway; Diana lets Danny take her hands into his, and he lets tears fall into someone else’s grip instead of his own.

*

Bruce is halfway to the monitor room before he feels himself be picked up from underneath the armpits.

Usually finding himself at inappropriate heights involves horseplay from Clark. No one else would be so bold as to actually put their hands on him within the professional setting of the Watchtower—and Bruce has worked very, very hard on maintaining a reputation that keeps the handsier of his fellows at bay.

The culprit is not Clark this time. Bruce finds himself looking downward at Diana’s tearstained face, fury and resignation warring in her expression.

Bruce is careful not to sigh. “Wonder Woman. What is the matter?”

“Someone,” Diana grits out, voice carefully modulated to cut out her own pain, “Hurt my charge.”

On the one hand, the situation with their patient is exactly as Bruce had expected. The circumstance is tragic. The circumstance was predictable.

On the other, Diana's new upset means that Bruce now has more information to work with than ever before.

Bruce can work with this.

“Tell me everything.” Bruce’s voice is just as firm—even held midair like a cat. “I will help you in every way I can.”

[apnourry]

it was hot at work, i was hot at work, i forget the rest

[fluentisonus]

[guinevereslancelot]

[egophiliac]

I was going to wait and poke at this a bit more, but the excitement of Upcoming Episode 7 took over. :') so here's one of my alt ideas for Silver's UM poster! this time with more Diasomnia-appropriate colors (that said, you can tear the pink fluffy clouds away from my cold dead hands)

I also recorded this one, for anyone who's interested in that kind of thing! it includes all my fuckups and changing my mind and spending forever adding details before deciding it looks better without, so, uhhh, enjoy my failures! (I kept trying to draw in his jacket details...it never worked...) also featuring lots of drawing on the wrong layer, forgetting how jackets work, and the black censor boxes of continually forgetting to turn off pop-up notifications. hope you like watching me draw birds!

here it is, combined and compressed down to about 10 minutes long (with a warning for flickering and flashing colors from sped-up zooming/layer changes): [ link ]

[canisalbus]

Hello, I'm not sure if you're aware, but tumblr is going to start helping midjourney gather data for their AI. You're one of the artists I follow here pretty actively and I wanted to warn you to maybe start nighshading your art before posting it here so it doesn't get swept up!

I've seen a couple of posts about it. Feeling disappointed but not that surprised. Also not excited about having to start nightshading/glazing my pieces but if there isn't going to be any serious regulations regarding data scraping and ai "art", there aren't a lot of choices.

Thank you for taking the time to warn me just in case, it was very thoughtful of you!

[rejaytionships]

cannot believe i gotta say this but please don't follow me if you're comfortable selfshipping with canon racists. i don't care if you headcanon them as otherwise, because if their racism against a real group of people is a key facet of their character (much less incredibly important to the telling of the story that this character is a racist) then i do not wanna see it. this is not the safe space for you