#cyanide late

[tixdixl]

Still on a sketching kick, and I decided to draw Eve fencing against @cyanide-latte 's OC Rand!!

Tag List: @ramshacklerumble @starry-night-rose @elenauaurs @rainesol @inmateofthemind

@cyanide-latte @blithesharem @theleechyskrunkly @thehollowwriter @boopshoops

@lumdays @the-trinket-witch

[tixdixl]

I love this so much, and I keep thinking about how Copper starts out only having a smattering of French from the way it is used in his home. I keep thinking about the universal experience that language learners have the first time they enter a native-speaker space, and how Rook and the others will have to continually encourage him at the start, because performance anxiety is the worst. But tbh, there isn't a better group of students to encourage him and practice around, because other students likely will not have the same patience or willingness to help him out.

I have so many L2 learning thoughts, but I don't wanna just overtake your post xD

On the topic of more TWST OC headcanons and thoughts, a personal favorite I keep coming back to is one about French accents that I discussed with @tixdixl . (I know it's "not technically French" because this is TWST but for the sake of argument, the language is French so I'm fucking calling it French, flex your rubber band labeled Suspension Of Disbelief a little.)

The idea was that my boy Toussaint "Tea" Anatole is in discussion with their OCs Rémi and Eve, because iirc they're all from Fleur City and speak a more Parisian dialect of French.

Rook overhears this because of course he does, he's Rook, and since he's the dorm brother of my boy Copper and giving him some additional tutoring during lunch hour to help him brush up, Rook decides he's pulling Copper along with him and they're going to just join in on their conversation. They all speak French of course!

Except there's a very slight learning curve. Even their Fleur City dialects differ in minute ways between Tea, and Rémi and Eve, as they're from different parts of the city. That dialect is also different from Rook's French since he's from Sunset Savanna (I headcanon it's probably like West-African dialects of French) and it's also different from Copper's Cajun French. So it probably takes them all a second to adjust a little here and there. They do get there pretty quick though!

Taglist: @blithesharem @ramshacklerumble @inmateofthemind @tixdixl @elenauaurs

@rainesol @distant-velleity @thehollowwriter @theleechyskrunkly @twst-migraine (dm me if you want to be added or removed from the taglist for my TWST OC stuff!)

[pumpkinpaix]

library school is an unethical scam and I am 100% serious about that

[hearts4golbach]

help this took so long (tagsss)

[5tupidusrnam3]

Simple marker drawing that I made of the lamb from cult of the lamb yay

[tacos-and-doodles]

Drops this and skitters away

[emmsplaylist]

CYANIDE by Daniel Caesar

[daddy-ul]

I know I'm not posting much lately but I started a new job and--yeah

And it's not that I don't think abt Metallica, it's more like that my thoughts go like

"king nothing > memory. Which is not a unpopular opinion, per se, but like. Memory won the continuity live war till 2023. What a world we live in"

And

"WELCOME TO THIS LIFE

BORN INTO THE FIGHT

HERE TO CLAIM YOUR DREAM

Dreams..... No?

Dream SIGULAR. I forgot that it was singular, I sang it plural, here to claim your dreams. Usually in English don't you say "claim your dreamS"? Ohhhhhh, but it's singular bc for james it can't be anything else.

>>>>>'there was no plan b. Plan b, c, d was making plan a work'

This is autobiographical as UN1, which also starts with birth seen as something immediately difficult. But screaming Suicide is more Abt yourself -you, your voice- and something external giving you a hand; while UN1 is others, what others do to you-- till it transforms you"

[notthewriteryourelookingfor]

A thought about the LGBT+ people who are trying to get the TQ+ part dropped:

(You'll have to pry it from my cold dead hands and even then I'm coming back to stop you but -)

Alan Turing was the man who created the machine that decoded the Nazi's code and shorted the war but maybe 2 years or more.

He's the grandfather of computing and was a gay man.

He admitted to being in a relationship with his boyfriend (don't listen to the movie w Benedict Cumberbatch that was a lie) in 1952 after he was reported for having sex in his own home and they arrested him and gave him a choice: take take chemicals that castrated him or go to jail.

He chose the chemical castration and 2 years later killed himself.

If this man couldn't have sex in his own home to another consenting adult just because said adult was the same gender as him, what makes you think you won't meet the same fate?

As soon as the conservatives and anti-minority people kill every out and loud queer person, they will kill anyone who's quiet about it too.

They don't want any queer people, they don't want any minorities, theyre happy to use you to spread their hate and propaganda and agender. And as soon as you're usefulness is over, they'll turn on you.

Theyre the party of jaguars that eat people's faces and just cuz they're eating the faces of people you hate, doesn't mean they won't eat yours as well.

Either learn about the roots of your community or shut the fuck up and leave.

Stonewall was started by a biracial butch lesbian, trans people have existed as long as gender has existed we just didn't have the word yet.

Pluto wasn't discovered til the 1930s but it sure as he'll existed before then. We just didn't have the ability to see it.

Now we can.

Just like how we didn't use to have all the language and labels we use today, doesn't mean it wasn't there it was just unnamed.

(Also if you're a terf that hasn't blocked me yet, block me now, if your liberated future doesn't include Everyone it's pathetic, useless, and just as bad as now.)

[ghostpnk]

HIT THE FLOOR

[ferritins]

IN A STITCH, IN A PINCH | J. TODD

SUMMARY: you’ve developed something of a friendship with the Outlaws, but you’re not quite sure about what the irascible Red Hood thinks of you.

WARNINGS: graphic description of burn injury, oblique reference to canonical parental drug dependency, reader is a meta.

NOTES: bringing back an old work! Re: the burns treatment depicted here - my area of study was clinical microbiology, not emergency medicine; everything I know about burns is relegated to opportunistic Staphylococcus aureus infection and how Gram negative skin flora influence wound healing. Take none of what you see in this fic as medical advice; if you do have a severe burn, call 999 and get your arse to an A&E ASAP.

After an extraterrestrial incident in your city that ended with something to the tune of 5 and a half million dollars worth of property damage and you knitting Arsenal's torn-open back together in a moment of adrenaline-fuelled insanity, you've developed something of a friendship with the Outlaws.

What that really means is that you periodically come off your shift at the hospital to find 2 mercenaries and an alien princess divesting your fridge of it's contents, and get wheedled into using your meta abilities to heal wounds that would otherwise take them out of play for a good few months.

You're under no illusions. You're aware that a healer is a useful contact to have, that should the situation necessitate it they'll take the few scant inches you can give and run a mile with them.

However, you're also aware that being a meta is a risk and that it pays to be liked and valued by dangerous people.

It's a friendship of convenience, but a friendship nonetheless.

Kori picks you up bodily and spins you in a tight circle until you're giggly and dizzy when confess her favourite shirts of yours are always freshly washed, just in case.

Roy gives you a vulgar wink when you order his shirt off to take a look at where his back scarred over, but faithfully applies the Vitamin E cream you give him for the scarring, trusting you to ease his discomfort, and sneaks bottles of your favourite elderflower cordial and the tins of Zambuk you can never find in the US for you to find when he leaves.

The only one you can't quite puzzle out your relationship with is Jason. He's taciturn, stands watch faithfully as Roy and Kori pull you into friendly hugs and dizzy spins, pepper playful kisses on your cheek and rub their knuckles into your hair. He rolls his eyes at his teammates' antics, huffs through his nose at your fussing.

Sometimes though, he'll call you sweetheart in a low rasp as he bumps you away from the sink to take over doing the dishes.

Sometimes, you think you catch him watching you with something unnameable and warm in his eyes.

You're not expecting your front door to fly open and damn near off the hinges late on Saturday evening — just as you're fresh out of the shower and only just into your pyjama shirt & shorts, might you add — but your alarm and annoyance die on your tongue when you see Roy and Kori's grim faces and the way that Jason sways despite both of their considerable strength holding him up.

You smell the odd, sour-smoke char of burned flesh as they pass you to ease Jason down oh so gently onto your sofa, and your gut goes cold with fear. The burn, once you get his shirt cut open, is not as extensive as you'd feared, but it's still something from a horror scene.

It's a third degree burn, skin mulberry-red, weeping and blistered in a long arc that curls up from his right hip to just under his right pectoral.

"Bloody hell." You breathe, horrified.

You run to your room, digging out your first aid kit, and drop to your knees by the couch as you tear it open.

Roy snorts, bitter as cyanide. "Yeah, that's a fairly accurate summary of the situation, sweets. The only reason he's still alive is because he dodged and got a glancing blow from the energy beam instead of a direct hit."

You look up from Jason's side.

"I'll need you and Kori to get some things." You say, hands shaking at the prospect of the task in front of you. "I can reduce the severity of the burn to a first degree, maybe, but it–"

"What do you need?" Kori snaps, terse. You reel off a list - topical antiseptic, light bandages, a banana bag & an IV kit, amoxicillin - and then look to Roy.

"I need you to get him to take some co-codamol. It'll kick in in about 10 minutes given his enhanced metabolism, but I can't do anything until he's got painkillers in him."

Roy's brows tighten further.

"Jason doesn't do opiates."

"Roy, if this was anybody else he'd be hooked up to IV morphine! If I start working on him without him having painkillers, he'll go into shock which could kill him." You exclaim.

You make low, soothing sounds when Jason tenses at the shouting, only to groan at the fresh wave of agony in his side.

The sound of Jason's pain seems to be decisive enough for Roy, who moves round the couch and grabs the box of effervescent tablets, dissolving two in water and coaxing Jason into drinking it down.

When the glass is empty, Roy is back to his feet, quick as lightning. He strides to the door, shepherding Kori out of your apartment.

"We'll be back with everything you need in half an hour, tops. Please, help him."

Jason comes out of the shrieking adrenaline of agony to the sound of your voice, and a slight cotton fuzz in his head.

Narcotics, then, but a fairly low dose for him to still retain this degree of alertness. Feeling the encroaching spectre of that terrible pain just barely held at bay, finds he's grateful for the medication.

He goes to prop himself up on his elbows, only to strike a line of phosphorus-white flare of pain down his side that has him hissing breath through gritted teeth.

Above him, you make a startled sound, press a hand to his sternum to keep him down. His eyes catch yours, and he sees the relieved sag of your spine and shoulders at the alertness in his eyes.

"Thank fuck you didn't go into shock." You sigh. "Stay still, I've just about got this down to a second degree burn. I've just got your hip."

You snap off your nitrile gloves and lean forward, cupping his face in your hands. "Don't make a habit of this. You'll kill us off with stress if you keep on nearly-dying."

As if on cue, the front door opens and Roy and Kori come into the living room, pharmacy bags clutched tightly in their grips and fragile hope in their eyes.

When they see Jason's alert eyes, the slow knit of skin and sub-dermal tissue and hear his sheepish grumbling in, response to you, their smiles are like sunlight.

Healing the burn is slow going, taking a full five evenings after your shifts.

Roy and Kori are intent on Jason staying the full course of treatment — settled by a, literally, on account of Kori, flaming row when he asks for his helmet and body armour —and though your entreaties are quieter, they're no less insistent.

It serves him right, probably, but it's driving him to distraction.

Specifically, the feeling of your hands over his skin is driving him to distraction.

He's not sure whether it's mercy or the sweetest of torture when you approach him, eyes darting down his body in a way that's half-assessing, half appraising before the heat-shock of your touch makes contact, pieces his skin back together.

(The thing is, Jason's attuned to everything about you, has been ever since you pulled Roy's flayed skin back shut whilst the city was still smoking behind you, totally unafraid in scrub trousers and a hoodie.

He's got it bad, and it's not exactly subtle.

Roy and Kori haven't missed that, or the way he reacts to you, judging by the raised eyebrows and teasing smirks as they lean up against the wall and watch you work.

He hopes the glare he levels at them over the top of your head communicates exactly what he'll do to them if they open their mouths.

It all comes to a head on Monday evening, when you come home from your OR shift, duck into the shower and then come into the living room in a too-large grey t-shirt and deliciously short sleep pants.

Jason's heart stops for a second. He lets his eyes flit despairingly over to Roy and Kori as you prep your kit, watches their unrepentant grins with a burning resentment towards them.

Having you this close to him, worry-soft and lit like a Rembrant from the lamp on the side table without being able to touch you is the closest thing to hell there is. You're close enough that he can smell the overlapping, inoffensive fragrances of your facial skincare products, see the faint pearlescent sheen of the residue of some serum on the apples of your cheeks, the tip of your nose, the soft line of your jaw.

Your nitrile-gloved hand settles gently on the raw new skin just above his hip and he jumps, his own broad hand flying up defensively to catch your wrist and still your movement. It's a mistake he regrets immediately.

The skin of your wrist is still tacky-soft with still-settling moisturiser, hair curling damp where the spray of your shower caught it. Jason's mind spins an unbidden reel of your hands, smoothing lotion over the plush expanse of your thighs, the line of your neck and the gentle swell of your décolletage, the curve of your hip.

He presses his eyes shut tightly.

He feels feral, the hungry bones of him blown open and exposed like the hull of a shipwreck. He wants to worry marks the shape of his mouth into your thighs, your neck, across your collarbones. He wants your knees bracketing his hips, the weight of you on top of him.

God, he wants–

"Are you okay? You're not in too much pain, are you?" He hears you ask.

He knows he's in far too deep when the thought of tasting the way the words roll off your tongue flits across his mind.

"Sorry." He croaks, releasing your hand. "Instinct."

(Roy turns to Kori with a snort, murmuring low so you can't hear.

"He's been watching like he wants to eat them alive since the first time we met and it's a miracle he's got enough blood north of his waistband to be capable of speech, but sure. Instinct.")

[tixdixl]

I gotta know more about Kingsley

Anything that might not have been talked about thru asks or general lore you wanna let folks know?

I don't think I've ever properly talked about him, his lore, and his motivations openly here. So strap in; this is gonna be a doozy.

And for y'all's sakes... I'll limit this to only containing lore from during his time at NRC. I can share post-NRC stuff another time.

Kingsley is a Horned King expy from the Chronciles of Prydain (the source material from which Disney's the Black Cauldron was made). As a result, many of his physical attributes, his personality, his story, and his relationships twist from the book series beyond the Disney film. There are very clear influences from the film as well, but I felt it would be far more striking and interesting if he drew from the original source material moreso than the film.

Kingsley is the crown prince of a fan-made location known as the Isle of Cantrevs - twisted from the Cantrevs in the Chronicles of Prydain. Due to his issues with anger management, his views on authority, and other additional traits, his parents - despite raising him to BE this way and culturally raising him to have certain beliefs - were unsatisfied and didn't approve of him as their son, let alone as the rightful heir to the throne. They opted to use sending him to NRC as a chance for him to prove himself, while also using it as an opportunity for them to literally get him off their hands. Naturally, he accepts the deal, but Kingsley feels the weight of the pressure to become the man his father wants him to be.

As he starts freshman year, he is sorted into Diasomnia, not SavannaClaw. Despite the aggressive and intimidating way he holds himself, he does maintain a militant, commanding presence and a subtle, noble aura. He is sorted into Diasomnia because of both who he will grow to become, and also because nobility and magical prowess are his most prominent attribute. And yet, to most, this shocks them. Because those who do not know how Kingsley is beyond his aggression assume he is best suited in SavannaClaw.

What's worse, the political tension and the personality clashing with the other canon characters of Diasomnia leads to many many conflicts, near death duels, and the immediate social isolation of one Kingsley Tyr. Because why did this human who prefers to fight with his fists and axes over his magic get sorted into Diasomnia? He doesn't belong here. We don't want him here.

In truth, despite how long it takes him to develop his UM, Kingsley is an incredibly strong mage, both physically and in the arcane. But he tries not to show off all of his cards. He tries to keep his secrets hidden in hopes to retain an upper hand.

He is diligent and vigilant, reserved unless he chooses to strike or intimidate or initiate. He keeps largely to himself, only choosing to create allyships when he knows its mutually beneficial, but does not hold himself like a normal student. He doesnt start out having friends. Instead, he dedicates all of his free time to trying to find the location of the Black Cauldron, or if not, the method of which it was created in order to obtain either the original or to create a new one. Because perhaps if he were to raise an army of the undead, his father would be impressed and acknowledge him for his skills and assets.

But in his isolation, blot and darkness are stewing. Truthfully, he should have Overblotted. Then why did he not?

Jack Howl. A few months into schooling, Jack decides he wants to see if the rumors are true, that there is nothing else besides lethal rage behind those skull hidden eyes. And what Jack finds instead is a young man hiding his numbness. His loneliness. He finds a young man who has never experienced a friendship and doesnt know how to connect with people beyond political allegiance. He meets a dedicated student, a young man built with an unwaverable loyalty, an a cunning strategist who is far from perfect, especially in his social skills. He sees a flicker of hope. A flicker of humor. A three dimensional human being. And from that flicker of life in Kingsley's eyes, Jack decides he's gonna see to it that Kingsley proves them all wrong. So Jack keeps hanging around him, until eventually Kingsley concedes and slowly begins to open up. And from that, he makes his first friend. You can read their first interaction here.

He often finds reprieve in SavannaClaw after this. He fights to earn his welcome and catches Leona's eye. Leona sees something akin in him and tolerates his presence in his dorm, so long as Kingsley doesnt become a problem. And when he starts to do so, their talk happens (which you can read here). But Kingsley TAKES the instruction, and ends up inadvertently proving both Leona and Jack right about what else is hidden behind the skull.

From there, we see allyships and friendships built between @thehollowwriter 's Finn, @ramshacklerumble 's Gia (who becomes his partner in crime and eventual QPP), and @cyanide-latte 's Copper (who becomes one of his most cherished and valued brothers).

We also see a game between hunters, as Kingsley and Rook wordlessly initiate a game between the two of them, which can be seen in a vignette here. The first one to land a lethal hit wins. And it's entirely on sight, regardless of the circumstances. Yet... after enough time passes, rumors begin to spread that they both are intentionally missing. Who is to say? But what we do know, flash forward, is that the King Takes Rook, and right before the graduation ceremony during Rook's senior year, Kingsley catches him off guard for ONCE, and calls checkmate with an axe blade to Rook's throat. Despite the two of them almost never talk, they end up maintaining their connection with one another, and Rook remains an invaluable presence in Kingsley's life - one who will guide him in his years post-NRC.

We also see a profound rivalry between Sebek and Kingsley. Sebek cannot understand for the life of him WHY Kingsley is allowed to grace the same steps and dorm as one Malleus Draconia. This human disgraces everything that they stand for, and has done nothing but cause problems for Malleus - who for the record doesnt give a fuck about Kingsley in any capacity. You can see one instance of them fighting here. And we will touch more on this later, but keep it in mind.

There isn't a lot that has been thoroughly hammered out in terms of specific details. But dynamics have been considered and there are specific key moments that have been fleshed out.

There are a few things I have hammered out, like his direct involvement in Book 4, as well as one instance of dream walking that Silver experiences- which can be read here. Otherwise, there are a ton of empty gaps.

During sophomore year, while predominantly nebulous at this point, is where I imagine a big turning point happens, where we really see him growing. He starts to question his dynamic with his parents. He starts to question their expectations of him, and whether or not their vision of their political dynamics and rulership is beneficial both for their foriegn affairs, and for their country. But moreover, he begins to question if he even wants to take the throne after his father. He questions if thats a life he really wants to have. In social isolation. Under immense stress. Is he even cut out to be king? Is he a fit worth selecting?

I do also Headcanon that he becomes Housewarden after Malleus heads off for his internship - you know... making bold assumptions here since Book 7 isnt finished. But I imagine he is challenged regularly, and wins- often without use of magic.

Just as he is beginning to sort out his feelings, his parents summon him in the summer between sophomore and junior year for what I refer to as the "Cantrevs Event". He has been summoned to clean up his parents mess and find a magical artifact that was stolen from them while they are busy dealing with conflicts between the Cantrevs and Briar Valley. He is asked to select a team of qualified assitants to come to the Cantrevs and retrieve the artifact, and prove that he actually has what it takes to be a leader. He chooses his friends and mutual acquaintances who have specific skill sets in order to help him on their quest. During this time, his UM awakens, and he really starts to realize his true potential. This is something I hope to write out as a long form fic one day.

In junior year, he finally earns Sebek's respect. And when Kingsley clocks the change in Sebek's demeanor toward him, he does actually offer Sebek the opportunity at becoming Vice-Housewarden. This is no small gesture, and it significantly changes their dynamic moving forward. This can be read here.

Beyond this, again, things are still really nebulous and I haven't fleshed them out. I also haven't fully figured out where exactly he interns at for his senior year, but Im excited at the prospect at exploring these things. And furthermore, all the empty space for me feels like opportunities to explore other things and to explore OC to OC interactions, where other folks may be interested.

If you've stuck around this far, thank you so so much for reading!!

----

Tag list: @ramshacklerumble @rainesol @elenauaurs @inmateofthemind @thehollowwriter

@cyanide-latte @blithesharem @theleechyskrunkly @starry-night-rose @boopshoops

[tixdixl]

THEY LOOK SO SO GOOD I LOVE THEM!!!

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHH ;A; !!! 💞

MY CHILDREN!!! 😭💗💗💗 ELENA THEY LOOK SO BEAUTIFUL IN YOUR STYLE, I'M HONORED!

SOBS LOOK AT THEMMMMMMM 💕💕💕💎💎💎

[grimdarling69]

Another deaged Dan and ellie or otherwise known as Crack.

Pt1 pt2 pt3. pt4

Jason was out patrolling Crime Alley when Clark called him freaking out.

Clark was currently in the doghouse with most of the bats and his sons. While most of it wasn't really his fault his family wasn't really the letting go type. He would know.

"What the hell do you want." He grimaced, that came out a lot rougher than he intended but sue him his brother had been missing for a week and they still were no were closer to finding him.

"Jason! How can you tell which rich men are predators?" What the hell.

"Get here now."

Which is how he came to be sitting across from a crisscross apple sauced Superman in his nearest safe house nursing a beer.

"I overheard something today at work." Kill him now. He was about to pull out a cyanide pill if this fucker didn't stop beating around the goddamn bush.

"What don't you overhear." He took another swing of his beer. He'd need plenty of it if Clark was gong to pester him for some fucking story while his brother was out there who knows where with God knows who, doing fucking anything. He could feel the green starting to rise and he did his best to push it back down but his vision was still tinged. It was happening a lot more often lately.

"Lex Luthor is apparently a sex trafficker." Atleast he was no longer beating around the bush but what the fuck? He knows the top suspect is Luthor and he's going to make a fucking joke about that. This was so not funny.

" I don't know what your playing at but you better explain yourself before I put a kryptonite bullet in your head." This fucker was going to singlehandedly destroy all his hardwork in therapy.

" One of my coworker's moms works at lexcorp, she called him today talking about the fact lex had two sick kids hanging around but disappeared and that a new one apparently showed up sick as well, last week." That got his attention.

"I also overheard her say he was experimenting on all of them and that the newest one spent time in Luthors own bedroom." He was going to cut Lexs dick off and shove it so far down his throat it was going to come out the other end. The green was suffocating.

"You think it's Damian."

"Who else? But the other kids I'm not sure." The other kids could have been surrogates for Damian but he was missing something. Kids because Lex has now kidnapped two other kids and experimented on them. And was probably hurting or experimenting on Damian in all kinds of ways he didn't even want to think about. The green spiking and flooding his senses, urging him to put down down anything that hurt his baby brother his...fraid? What the hell? He shook that thought off, that's never happened before. The green never allowed him to have such clear and borderline strange thoughts before.

"We need to go to the batcave." Shoving his helmet on, not even waiting for Clark's response, he'd beat him their anyway.

‐------------

Jon was sat perched on the rocks high in the cave, listening for even a hint of wherever Damian had gone. His dad who he was absolutely pissed at bad arrived and asked everyone to to 'please listen to whatever he and Jason have to say before you interupt'. Which led to a lot of shouting and arguing he was ignoring. He already knew what it was about he had been straining listening to every single person mentioning lex luthor.

He couldn't imagine Damian in that position. It wasn't that he didn't understand it could happen to anyone it was just disbelief that it could happen to... his best friend, who he's had a crush on for years. He obviously knew that no one was infallible, much less Damian, but he couldn't help think it. Damian always seemed untouchable.

Eventually, everybody quieted down again and went back to their own things. The quiet was unwelcome. He'd been having strange dreams since before he heard of Damian's disappearance.

They always started out normal enough. He was walking in a park that seemed familiar, but he knows for a fact he's never been to. After a while, he comes to a picnic table with various snacks and drinks thrown around in smaller piles like they were transfered from someone's arms to quickly care.

A boy with bright orange hair, covered in freckles everywhere, he can see wearing a basketball jersey attempting to twirl a ball on one finger, his hands are covered in colorful markers, both drawing snd wikd splotches. He instinctively recognizes him as 'Wes' even though he has no clue who he is. 'Wes' briefly tries to wave at him but loses his grip on his ball and has to chase it down the hill, cursing all the way. When he turned the back of his legs, have punctured, looking scars on them like something grabbed him and dragged him around, seering fangs into his flesh.

Another boy 'Tuck' is typing madly at what he can recognize as a PDA even though he's only seen them on old TV. He's placed in the center surrounded by tools most on his left and right side like he picked them up and threw them back down too quickly to care. His hands have several scars, but his left arm is the worst, 3rd degree burns healed, but still looked painful. His tongue is sticking out the side of his mouth, and he keeps pushing his dreads underneath a red beanie, but before his hands even touches his device, they've already slid back out.

There's two other girls side by side, one shooting airplanes and attempting to get the other to 'play with her'. One 'Val' his mind supplies somehow, has darker skin, and wears a typical y2k outfit complete with a flip-phone she secured on her body with a yellow ribbon. Her face has a huge jagged scar running from the side, almost touching her mouth as if her head slammed on something sharp, then dragged downward purposefully and other smaller scars on everywhere else. She looks straight out of one of his mom's old photo books rather than a 2000s fashion enthusiast. She smirks at him and waves her finger at him in a 'come hither' kinda way.

The other girl 'ellie', wear more baggy clothes, the knees are torn and darker from wear and tear rather than on purpose like what he himself has worn. From the little skin she shows he can see both bruising new and old with quite a few 'narley' looking scars. She sees him and waves, smiling brightly, she grabs one of the paper airplane and throws it into the sky. 'Ellie' then waves her hands around in a motion that looks like it was practiced for more effects than practical. Wind billows past her making the paper go soaring for a brief minute before it self-destructive under the stress of the wind. She pouts and stomps her foot before grabbing another one and trying again.

He continues past her and sits near 'val'. Val grabs his shoulders and snaps a phota on her phone. "Say cheese," she says through her teeth, smiling joyfully. For some reason, he obeys her command and smiles softly at the camera. He feels happy and peaceful. Val shoves the phone in his hand for him to inspect, but something is wrong.

He-she has dark black hair that seems to have a purple hue to it. Her makeup is dark and shadowed, and her clothes are shorter than he's ever worn before. They look sewn together cruedly but with an attention to detail he often lacks. She has quite a few scars ranging from scrapes to jagged cuts. Somehow, the girl holds a peace sign up, and he can see her claw like nails. The black paint was patchy in places, making him able to tell those were real nails, not just fake acrylics.

He looks down, and he sees her. Before he starts to spiral,'Danny' calls out. "Sam! There you are. I've been looking everywhere for you!" 'Danny' has even worse scarring than anyone else the way he leans over him he can see inside his shirt, a large autopsy scar is healed rough and jagged edges make it known he fought the whole time. He has litchenberg type figures from his right hands palm all the way up to his throat. Weren't they supposed to fade? He knows logically that he can't be Damian, but he also just feels like he is, like he's just like Jon's best friend, like he's known him forever and loves him. 'Danny' appearance then starts to shift from looking even more like Damian his eyes and face stay carefree, but his harsh scarring looks even more profound against his darker skin. 'Damian's' head comes to rest on his shoulder and he feels 'Sam' start to lean down and kiss him, but as soon as they lock eyes the dream is over leaving him in a panting mess, trying to catch his breath.

He's had that exact same dream for a week now with no change. All ending in the exact same spot. He wasn't sure who to talk to about it. It felt important, but what if it's just a dream?

"Jon? Hanging in there?" Kon floated up, he staying in the air probably in case he reacted negatively. He hates how they treat him like a ticking time boom, Damian never treats him like that. Come on, just say it. He's your brother.

"I just...miss him." he buried his head in his hands like the coward he was. Kon floated closer until he was landing right next him, bumping his shoulder.

"I know Jon, I get it." No you really don't. Cause i don't let you.

-----------

"So there is a boy you like?" Vlad pestered him rubbing his back.

"I never said it was a boy." He snarked before throwing up his entire stomach up in the toilet.

"Please Damian, I went to school with your father. Both of them now actually." He said matter a factually.

"Gay." He said in between hurling. Finally after not immediately throwing up as soon as he even moves slightly Vlad places a water bottle in his hands.

"Thank you." He mumbles, mind your manners young master.

Vlad was nice and all sometimes, but he missed his family. Pennyworths chiding, Richard's easy smiles and praises, Father's lessons. He missed it all.

Vlad really wasn't the best at emotions or parenting really. He... cared for him but he was more that fun uncle you realize was really just crazy. Not he'd ever tell Vlad that.

"Let's go back to work."

"Are you sure? We can take a longer break?"

"We both know we can't afford it."

Things weren't going all that well. They had realized fairly quickly that the incubation was going to follow a real pregnancy timeline if not a little shorter up to the birth where they will just faze out when their ready. Vlad theorized it was a protective measure his body was doing to make the pregnancy less ghostly. He couldn't handle even a half-ghostly anything. The flight to the island drained him of all of the ectoplasm he was able to accumulate over the years despite the corruption.

Due to the corruptedness of the pits he was basically severely ecto-deprived and any ecto he gains goes to the two extra cores or fixing the corruption. He can't even make any ectoplasm anymore because of the corruption stopping it. He needs to get to the Infinate Realms as soon as possible or else neither him or his kids will continue to exist. Vlad was also weaker using his own ectoplasm to power things because the purified ecto was so much weaker than just natural.

The ectopods give him a boost but he was getting worse. The ectopods had failed Dan and Ellie to.

Vlad was starting to get a little protective and by a little he means not wanting to let him out of sight at all. Barely for a bathroom break. Ancients forbid he takes more than five minutes and Vlad pulls a sledgehammer out.

He may or not be going a little stir crazy. It was agonizing he's not used to dealing with this much attention. His parents in his first life were mostly focused on the portal or their work in general until they suddenly realized they had kids then showered them with affection just to forget about them just as quickly. The league of assassins and his mother don't need any explanation really, between training there wasn't much time for affection his mother sometimes did but it was always behind closed doors when noone was watching at all and that didn't happen near as much as you would think. His father wasn't really affectionate on anything, the most he would get for a mission gone right was a pat on the back and a "good job chum" and it often felt more forced with him than the others. Richard was quite affectionate with both his words and his actions. Getting a passing grade or winning a fight or even losing a fight seemed to be a cause of celebration. He was physical with his affection, hugs and kisses on the forehead, but even the second he started feeling uncomfortable he would pull away. Sometimes it was nice sometime he just wished he would push just a little further.

Vlad didn't have any of that. He was all antagonistic words, he didn't even always seem to mean it, it just happened with him. His attention nice for a while but got tiring and he couldn't just ask him to leave him alone because Vlad would take it wrong. He also never knew when to leave him alone. Like he didn't need to sleep in his room just cause he was having headaches and occasional nosebleeds he had that plenty with concussions before and had been able to treat it since he was 4 years old. He thinks if Vlad says one word more on 'taking a break' or 'drinking some more water' he was going to punch him in the face.

"You dont need to push yourself! you'll only end up in more pain just take a five minute break? Please think of the kids I'm also there father to you know!" There it is.

Damian while around and punched him in the face. The force and the surprise knocking him onto the floor.

"Damian! What the hell is your problem, young man!" He attempted to get up but he didn't let him. He easily swept his feet from under him and pushed him back down.

"I'm sick and tired of you always thinking you know what's best for me! Well news flash. You don't." He punched him in the face, expertly evading Vlads dodging. Vlad was powerful with powers but without them he was much more skilled.

"Stop this right now!" He'd have to make him.

And make him he did. Shit. He overestimated just how much ecto Vlad had been giving him because he stopped holding back his strength and shoved him off.

Crack.

Shit Vlad definitely either broke or cracked one of his ribs. He must of really pissed him off because that didn't stop him. He ran at him and kicked him in the throat. He gasped for air.

"Are we done yet?" Fuck you. He grabbed his legs and pulled him down. Almost straddling him and started to beat his face in. Vlad spit out blood but started to heal quicker than he could hurt him. Switching their positions he stsrted to choke him out. He choked for air but remembering his training, he quickly administerd a move that would have taken down any regular human down.

Vlad quickly recovered even angrier and threw him roughly at the glass of the lab shattering it and landing in it. He could feel the glass prickling against his skin. Bloody streaks painting his hands, glass embedded. He tried getting up but heard a loud gasp.

Susan stood hand over her mouth. Her skin pale and her hand gripped her tablet so hard he could hear creaks. He laid his head back down. He suddenly didn't feel like fighting anymore.

"Take him to the physician." Vlad spoke, voice distant and echoey. He couldn't resist the pull of darkness and fell under.

--------

After Clark shared his findings with the cave a month ago, Tim and Barbara have been hard at work trying to track the call, but meeting dead ends all around. Lex's security to tight and better than ever before.

Until, a new call came through.

"David! Oh David it's horrible!" She cried, her sobbing evident even through the poor phone service. They quickly got to work, everyone joining in around them. It had a two months since the last time they saw their littlest bat. No way where they letting the opportunity slip through their hands again.

"That little boy! He threw him through a window! He's been in and out of emergency surgeries for a week. A week! He had a punctured lung, an almost crushed larynx, a broken collarbone, and five cracked or broken ribs. Not to mention, he's covered in bruises and srapes from the glass! It's terrible! That little boy, just laying on the operating table, his heart stopped twice. Twice! Oh, David! I don't know what to do." She was in hysterics. Oh god, that was his brother. His baby brother.

He ignored the broken sobs around him and pushed his down.

"I've got it." Barbara announced, hse didn't sound relieved in any way but he understood they still had to save him and from what they heard from her, he may never fully recover.

"Supers, fly ahead, scout out. This is Lex, he's bound to have plenty of kryptonite." The supers flew out without even acknowledgeing their orders.

He paused. Please don't say it. Please

"Evrybody else... to the batjet."

It didn't really matter what he said anyway everybody in the cave was ready to go war, with or without Bruce.

A/N if yall think for one second that a relationship built from the ashes of one of the most traumatic moments in their lives is going to be perfect, yall kidding yourselves. Vlad is never going to be perfect he and damian/Danny will always be archenemys who may or may not have some fluffy moments they'll still have met because he wat trying to kill his father so he could marry his mother. Vlad desperately wanting him to be son is so obsessive and insane he creates a clone of him to be his kid. They may care for each other, but vlad will never truly be a good choice for Danny in general.

[teddybearsandspaceships]

This is yet another "watch Cleo´s streams they´re awesome" propaganda post.

Some highlights from today´s crafting stream with Joe:

The Hermits agreed on when to announce the start of the new season and then... nobody did it first. Eventually Joe announced it first on LinkedIn but nobody noticed.

Cleo was surprised to find out Doc apparently put them on his hit list, presumably after they pointed out that he made a big hole last season. "If he didn't want to be mocked he shouldn't have teamed up with me."

prompted by a comment in chat and I forgot the phrasing, but something along the lines of how Joe needs a certain amount of antagonism and Cleo just wants to make sure Joe has a good time

Cleo finding out live on stream about an apparently unexpectedly high amount of money she'll get from the TCG cards

Cleo provides cake to new subscribers because once they get cake they fight back less, because of the cyanide. (No cake if you un- and then resubscribe but you can steal the new people's cake.)

Iskall told Cleo in a private message that he´s scared of them and Cleo was like, that´s fair. Then talks a bit about how they´re not scary but good at appearing so. Joe calls never being scared of Cleo one of his most foolish attributes (Cleo was thinking it´s quite nice.)

Some reminiscing about how their friendship started with Joe threatening Cleo and later he changed her life by inviting her to Hermitcraft (an invite that wasn´t a big of a deal back then as it is now)

and more.

In conclusion, watch Cleo´s streams because Cleo is awesome and the streams are fun and chill.

I haven´t watched many Cleo streams lately because of the games Cleo played during the HC break (mostly because I didn´t want to be spoiled for them) so I´m especially looking forward to Hermitcraft streams coming back soon.

[achromatophoric]

Late one night at Nevermore University, Bianca and Enid watched as Wednesday rolls around on the floor of the Ophelia Hall common room.

Bianca: The hell is wrong with your girl this time?

Enid: She’s um— Willa’s kinda maybe rolling.

Bianca: Rolling? Wait, did someone drug her with molly?!

Enid: Nonono, she mistook it for her evening cyanide.

Bianca:

Bianca: Oh… kay.

Enid: 😅

Bianca: I guess this’ll be bizarrely hilarious. Addams being all touchy and lovey dovey.

Enid: *winces* Actually…

Wednesday sways towards the table. Her eyes, already dark, are now swallowed by black pupils. She wears a manic grin, tinted red by bleeding gums.

Bianca: The fuck…?

Wednesday: Happy evening, Barclay. Your tits could be bigger.

Bianca: Bitch what did—

Wednesday: *turns* Beloved whom I would burn in Hell for, I request permission to cuddle the bitchfish.

Bianca: *sputters angrily*

Enid: You do you, babe!

Wednesday abruptly ducks and rams her sweaty face against one of Bianca’s exposed shins.

Bianca: HOLY SHIT!

Wednesday: *glares up* Pet me now or else I’ll gut your delightfully firm belly.

Bianca: Enid! Get your psycho bitch off— OW!!

Wednaesday stabs Bianca again with a cracked glowstick as she continues to smear her face on the Siren’s leg.

Bianca: Fucking quit it!

Wednesday: *muffled* Mmm… voice… exquisite…

Yoko: *walks up* Hey bitches, what’s— *double-take*

Yoko: 😨

Yoko: What the actual fuck is Freddy Keurig doing?

At the sound of Yoko’s voice, Wednesday rotates her head a horrifying 180 degrees to stare back at her. The act leaves a smudge of sweat and bloody spittle across Bianca’s leg.

Bianca: 😩

Yoko: *steps back* Oh SHIT!

Wednesday: *ominously* Yoko. Yoko-koko. Your hair is silken. I must hug you.

Yoko: What the— FUCK! Getheroffgetheroff!!

Enid casually hands Bianca a towel, who uses it to wipe off her leg.

Bianca: Well this is a fresh new Hell.

Enid: Sorry! Imma get some LED gloves from Ajax and see if I can’t lure her back to the room. Bee-arr-bee! *scampers away*

Bianca: BITCH! Don’t leave me with this shit show!

Yoko: Fucking OW! My hair! What are— are you fucking CHEWING MY HAIR?!

Wednesday: *koalas* Nmn… pretty leech… nmn nmn…

Divina: *walks up* Hey all, what’s— oh my god! Is this a CUDDLE PUDDLE!?

Yoko: Babe! H-Help!

Divina: I gotchu! *grabs Bianca and joins in*

Bianca: Wait a— godDAMMIT!!

Cuddle puddle: 🤤😭☺️😫