#i hope this works! :)))

[hugsandchaos]

Seeing Double

Part One, Part Two, Part Three

Summary: A ghost who looks a lot like Phantom comes to him in search of protection, and their newest member instantly agrees. He calls her his little sister, and sooner or later, Phantom also might end up with a new brother.

*bangs pots and pans together* @vixen-uchiha, @starlightcat04, @blueliac, @lenacraft, @admiralwidow, @fuckingfaraway, @little-apricot-orchard, @sithlordchimchnga, @buymeanewlaptopty, @deeterzz, @jaylaxyart99, @phant0mc1d3, @idiosolcrasy, @dehydrated-bread, @randomenglishmajor, @mushroomymoss, @skylernightmare, @rubber-ducky-your-the-one, @confusedshades, @that-random-fangirl, @impulsiveasshole, FINAL ROUND OF JUICE, GRAB YOUR CUPS!!!

“And that’s why I have... complicated feelings about Danielle being here.” Conner finished. Black Canary sat across from him and was leaned forward a little to listen. It felt good to finally get something like this off his chest.”It’s not anything against Danielle specifically. If it’s the safest place for her like Phantom says, then she can stay as long as she needs. It’s...” He trailed off, not knowing how to put the reason into words.

Luckily, Black Canary knew what he was implying by what he had already told her.”You also want Superman to be there for you like Phantom is for Danielle.” She said. Conner clenched his hand into a fist, but only for a second. She was right. He silently nodded.

“It’s not just that, either. Sometimes I want to be included in their sibling activities. I want to hang out with them. Not Superman. Not as often as before, at least.” He added. He thought himself pretty rude for thinking that. He wasn’t nearly as close to Phantom as Danielle. He wasn’t related to him in hardly any way, and they only recently started hanging out the way friends did.

And yet here he was, wanting to be part of their little group.

Black Canary seemed only a little bit surprised by this.”You want to be their brother?” She asked.

Conner shouldn’t have been taken aback by the suggestion when he began thinking about it. Yes, he wanted to be close with both of them the way they are with each other. Yes, he wanted to protect them both. And yes, there was a small part of Conner that wanted to be able to look to Phantom for help.”I... I think so. If that’s what it would mean.” He said. He’s heard of people calling others they’ve fought many battles with “brothers in arms” and those who are simply close to one another their brothers as well, regardless of wether or not they’ve survived fights together.

Canary smiled a little bit and nodded for him to continue.

“But what am I supposed to do about this? I’ve been mostly ignoring it because they have a bond with each other that I don’t have. I can’t just butt in on it.” Conner said. He wasn’t wrong, and Canary knew that. Then again, she also knew something that would make that feeling disappear.

However, she knew that it wasn’t her place to say it.

~~~~~~~~~~

Around thirty minutes later, Black Canary now sat across the from Phantom, who was floating above the recliner instead of sitting in it. She had only very recently been able to make a small breakthrough with the ghostly teenager. Since his arrival, he’s been trying to avoid opening up with almost anything she’s tried to talk with him about, but soon after Danielle came, he finally opened up a little. Maybe it was the fact that someone he was more familiar with was there with him. Or perhaps it was because of the very thing he’d mentioned during their last session.

Phantom was alternating between eye contact and staring at the floor.”You mentioned something last time. About Conner.” She said.

“I’m worried about him. The others have their families, but...” He trailed off. He opened and closed his mouth a few times while he struggled to find the right words. This was pretty common during these sessions, and Canary knew to be patient.”Can I be mean for a second? Say something I probably shouldn’t?” He asked.

Canary nodded.”Nothing leaves this room.” She assured him.

Phantom looked her in the eyes.”Superman is a coward.” He said bluntly.

Canary was taken aback by his choice of words, but didn’t let it show and remained silent for him to explain.”He has a clone, practically a literal son, but he refuses to see him almost as anything but non-sentient. Why? Is it because he’s too much of a coward to step up? Why won’t he at least apologize for what he said last visit and admit he was wrong!” He said.

Phantom’s tone and volume had raised up, which sounded like the start of a rant. He rolled his eyes as if disgusted.”He’s acting like a deadbeat with the way he does his best to ignore Conner’s existence! Seriously, the way he treats him almost makes me want to...”

Canary raised an eyebrow slightly. The ghostly teen let out a sigh.”This is gonna sound weird, but it makes me want to have Conner as my little brother so he doesn’t have to feel the way he does. But I can’t treat him like a child and just make him leave the room whenever he comes.” He said.

Canary nodded in agreement.”That’s may be true, but your motive is in the right place. It’s incredibly kind of you to be so worried about your friend that you’d be willing to become something of a new role model or guardian for him. Especially since he’s older than you.” She said.

Phantom lifted a hand and shook it side to side.”Eh, only biologically. Definitely not chronologically.” He said.

~~~~~~~~~~

Conner and Phantom were talking about their day when Wally had come in to tell them, specifically Conner, that Superman was coming in a few hours. Phantom’s reaction was immediate; zipping out of the room through the wall and vanishing. He came back a second later with an important to ask Conner.

It was a task that’d keep him busy from having to interact with Superman, which he really wanted at the time. All he had to do was watch Danielle and prevent his original from even seeing her.

And so here he was, doing a simple dog puzzle with Danielle in his bedroom.

Conner finished sorting the edge pieces from the rest and picked up a corner piece.”So you’ve never been to the ghost zone before?” He asked.

Danielle shook her head and held an edge piece near the corner piece to see if it would match.”No, Phantom says my core’s too weak to survive going through the portal. He says he’s working on a solution to fix that, though. “Even if it’s just for one trip,” he said.” She explained. The piece was incompatible, so she moved it to the size. She picked up another one. That one fit. The young ghost picked up another edge piece. Conner let out a small hum and helped her search for other pieces.

He had found it infuriating to discover that he was practically half of what Superman was in terms of superpowers, but Danielle didn’t seem too angry about being not as strong as her brother. Maybe it was because he was so nice and encouraging to her.”You’re lucky to have a brother like Phantom.” Conner said. Danielle nodded in agreement and looked up at him.

She knew by now that he was also a clone like her and had so many questions, but stopped when he started to get upset a few weeks ago. He didn’t know if anyone explained the situation to her yet.”Don’t you have a family?” She asked. Conner remained quiet.

Rejection from the very person that’s practically the reason you’re alive hurt a lot. He kept his anger under control, though. At least, he tried. If she had asked this months ago, he might’ve yelled at her or something. Now he was better at controlling himself until he could hit something, but he still wanted so badly to just explode. To hit something and shatter it to a point beyond repair. But he couldn’t. Not here. Conner shook his head.

Danielle frowned a little, but then she suddenly sat up. A big smile appeared on her face.”What if you were my second brother?” She asked.

Conner paused. He’d been pushing the developing want to become her and Phantom’s brother. He strongly believed that it wasn’t right to intrude on their relationship as siblings, especially when he wouldn’t exactly be the best brother with the anger issues he’s working on. He glanced over at Danielle with a very shocked look.

She was smiling at him so hopefully. Conner almost didn’t want to say no. Scratch that, he didn’t want to say no at all. And even if he did, would he be able to resist that pleading look?“That would be nice.” He finally said. Danielle took in what was probably the most dramatic gasp he’d ever heard and practically lunged at him for a hug.

She opened her mouth, but all that came out was a bunch of static and pings. Conner soon smiled and hugged back.”You know I can’t understand you, right?” He asked.

“Oh, right! Sorry. But this is the best!! Now I have two brothers, and one of them is a clone like me!!” She cheered, switching back to English.

Suddenly, Phantom’s head poked up through the floor, startling the both of them.”He’s gone. What’s this I hear about a new brother?” He asked. Danielle let go of Conner as Phantom floated up and smiled.

“Can Conner be our new brother?” She asked. Phantom’s eyes widened a bit. He glanced over at Conner, who shrugged.

Why did he shrug? That was stupid.

Phantom glanced between him and Danielle, then smiled.”Sure, why not?” He said. Danielle threw her arms into the air and cheered. Phantom floated over to Conner and gave him a hug.”Guess you’re stuck with us now.” He said, then laughed.

Conner didn’t really get it. He said that like it was a bad thing.

[backjustforberena]

COOP & O'HARA, during Season 4. for @expectiations

[whoiisshe]

[starcunin]

@bloodtwin sent: catch, sender catches receiver by the waist after they bump into each other. (laughing cuz i saw u sent the same one right as i copied this to send it to u)

The campfire crackles low, its dying embers casting a faint, flickering glow over the scattered bedrolls and resting forms of his companions. Astarion waits, listening intently for the steady rhythm of their breathing. The night has grown still, with only the occasional rustle of leaves and the distant hoot of an owl disturbing the silence. He’s been fighting the gnawing hunger for days now, trying to resist the sweet temptation that walks so tantalizingly close to him. The smell of Puck’s blood—rich, intoxicating, almost calling to him—has been an ever-present distraction, driving him to the edge of reason. But tonight, Astarion can’t endure it any longer. The hunger is a familiar agony, one he knows too well from centuries under Cazador's cruel hand, but unlike then, he's no longer confined to his master’s whims. He can feed when he pleases, as long as he is careful.

He glides silently through the camp, the leather of his boots barely whispering against the grass, until he reaches the shadows of the surrounding trees. Here, away from prying eyes, he intends to find some poor, unsuspecting creature to drain—enough to quiet the burning need that gnaws at his very core. He steps around a large oak, his mind already drifting to the warm taste of blood on his tongue, when he nearly collides with a solid form. Startled, Astarion jerks back, but strong hands catch him at the waist before he can stumble.

❛ Bloody—, ❜ Astarion hisses, more out of surprise than anger, though the edge in his voice betrays his irritation. But as he looks up, ready to chastise the fool for creeping about in the dead of night, he finds himself caught by those strange, golden eyes. ❛ What in the sweet hells are you doing out here? ❜ he snaps, though his voice softens almost immediately. And there it is again—that scent, that maddening pulse of life just beneath the skin, the rhythmic throb of Puck’s vein so close, so warm. He can see it, feel it, almost taste it.

For a moment, he can’t think of anything else. His fingers twitch at his sides, aching to dig into Puck’s flesh, to sink his fangs into that inviting neck, to gorge himself until his hunger is finally sated. He can practically feel the blood rushing through his own veins in anticipation, every instinct screaming at him to take what he needs. But no—he can’t. Not here, not now, not where anyone might see. His control is slipping, but Astarion knows he has to hold on, if only by a thread. He forces a smirk onto his lips, leaning closer to Puck under the guise of casual flirtation, though the movement is as much to inhale that tempting aroma as it is to play the part. ❛ I mean… not that I’m complaining about finally having a moment alone with you, ❜ he murmurs, his voice a low purr, though his eyes flicker to the shadows, searching for a familiar figure with freakishly intense eyes.

But Iago is nowhere to be seen, and that realization sends a shiver down Astarion’s spine. Iago, who has been watching him like a hawk since they joined forces, is conspicuously absent. It’s unsettling. They’re always there, lurking just out of sight, their gaze unsettling in its unwavering intensity. Astarion doesn’t trust them—he’s certain Iago is hiding something, and their overprotective watch over Puck only heightens his suspicions. But now, with Iago missing, it feels like a trap, or worse, an opportunity. Astarion glances back at Puck, the hunger roaring back to the forefront of his mind. If he’s careful… No, he must be cautious. But gods, it’s getting harder to remember why.

[ponds-of-ink]

Calling all Tumblr Springtraps, Scraptraps, William Aftons, and…!

(…Maybe even MXES, who knows?)

Do you want your artist to participate in a massive animatic collab?

Then tell them to join the event known as:

If interested, here are the rules below the cut. Prior storyboards knowledge need not apply, as this is purely an event born out of a bet I just won.

THE MAIN RULES (well… more like GUIDELINES, tbh)

The main source of audio will be from this episode of the FNAF Show by Dawko. You (The artist) will only have to storyboard your favorite section.

Alternatively: If you do not have a favorite moment from this episode, then please choose a separate interview (FNAF or otherwise) that best suits your Purple Guy. Link to full interview must be included in post/video description so that others will find said interview.

All versions of William are up for grabs, even Vanny and lore-debatable Glitchtrap (& MXES). If you have a design for his human years, feel free to use that if you prefer. Whichever’s your favorite, draw him!

The only real hard rule is that is must be in an interview format somehow. Take references from stuff like on-site news reports or celebrity interviews if it helps the creative process.

Other than the above rule, have fun with it! :D

There’s no real deadline, but I may be making a masterlist of everyone’s clips on October 31st or November 11th. Whichever feels more fitting.

With that said, please tag me if you are posting here on Tumblr. I’d love to see y’all’s finished work. :]

All right, I think that’s it! Happy storyboard/animatic-ing! I’ll try to join in as well, but I might have to see if I can even retrieve the audio I want to use…

Edit: Here’s a Heather Masters interview you can use for Vanny, if you want. Possibly two, if I can find another one. If I knew of one interview with Marta Svetek, I’d also link it to cover Vanny’s masked voice.

[neathyfashioncoalition]

Neathy Fashion Coalition - Volume 1

And here we have it folks - a compilation of all the submissions so far!

A big thank you to everyone who participated in this fun little event. Everyones urls have been directly credited in the document, and the urls should be clickable to lead back to the original tumblr post they were submitted with. If there are any issues do let me know and i will try to correct it as soon as I can!

And if you didn't get a chance to participate - worry not, this blog will be remaining open for submissions for a future volume 2 at an as of yet undecided time - so please feel free to continue submitting an entries!

That is all, and have a wonderful (and fashionable) time delicious friends!

[someflareoutwithlove]

A [Test Drive] Starter for @homelander-rp-blog

Johnny leaned against the outer railings of the bar he'd just finished a show at. His eyes fixed on one part of the cities skyline. Sure, Nightcity had it's fair share of skyscrapers owned by corpos. But more than any one among them filled the man with a burning hot rage.

He pulled the cigarette away from his mouth and exhaled the smoke into the smoggy air of the city. He was almost certain each breath he took in even with out the smoke in his had was horrible on his lungs.

Johnny glanced at the other through the corner of his eye before he stepped back from the railing.

"You know there's better ways to get my attention" he grumbled.

Johnny picked his drink up off the small table beside him and took a swig. Luckily, the guy seemed to have caught Johnny in a not shitty mood.

"Well, you got here. No point in having you waist your time. What do you want?"

[sexy-rex]

I don’t have a sketchbook but I still wanted to create a flip through of the edits I’ve created. Some of these have been posted on tumblr, some are unfinished i.e. first drafts, and some have not been shared at all <3

((I’m shy to share this with you 🥺 I hope the video plays))

[unalloy]

@impcler

what does it mean to be a god? miquella doesn't quite know the answer. is divinity built on the back of death? is it carved from corpses? unfamiliar land and spirit - graves stretch before him, captured in his golden gaze. he will decipher it for himself.

but first, shadow awaits. his first days were spent with caution. he wishes to discover this realm, torn page by page from every history book; marika's doing, certainly, but she did not purge her journey from her own mind, the mind she chipped into the thousands of stone tablets surrounding her bedchamber. miquella spent days among the light of the erdtree reading, comprehending, learning - of a divine gateway where grace came to be, where the elden ring forged its arcs. now, within the black keep, surrounded by ever - approaching darkness, he stands out like a rainbow stone in a well.

it's not hard for someone to spot him. miquella simply disappears through hallway after hallway, with no semblance of where he's going. sometimes, one simply needs to be childish - though, that instinct is easier in the body of one. regardless, he plays cat - and - mouse with iron - faced guards until finally losing them in rapid flights of stairs.

closing the door behind him when he enters the last room ( he didn't look before he darted inside, caught up in the frivolous game only he was playing ), he looks with a fond glance at the handles. it is only until he hears the faint, accusatory hiss of serpents that he returns, present consuming his thoughts once more.

miquella turns slowly, bits of hair floating out of the way, and comes face to face with red snakeskin. he simply grins, eyes closing, hands tucked behind his back. " greetings, big brother! "

he's read about messmer. he only hopes the other has done the same - and that his sudden intrusion does not paint him in the wrong light.

[stainedkept]

YOU TEXT A LOT, KATE BISHOP -- @musesinked

Yelena approached one of the unconscious men and reached for the arrow that kept the man pinned to the wall. The assassin pulled it out and admired the small changes the archer had made. Taking the arrow with her, Yelena casually walked down the cold alleyway towards the sounds of fighting. She stepped over fallen enemies and offered absolutely no help when she finally spotted the archer.

It was three against...actually one of Kate's enemies just fell. It was two against one. The archer had already defeated numerous other enemies. Yelena was doubtful that the two remaining men would give Kate Bishop much trouble. So, the assassin waited. The two men Bishop was fighting were rough but really terrible fighters. A groan came from one of the archer's fallen enemies. Just as the man was starting to climb back onto his feet, Yelena shot a widow bite at his chest. Back down he went.

With another long Kate Bishop fight over, Yelena approached the archer. "I am starting to think that you like long fights, Kate Bishop. I like the new arrows." She tossed the arrow towards Kate. "Where is Barton? I thought the two of you were partners."

[zoeloveconvers99]

I finally decided to improve my commission art infos and add more infos in it.Commissions are open and read well the rules,questions are open.

A reminder that in case of nsfw commissions I mean nude models or pin up style not anything extreme

[sleepyboywrites]

Hii! How are ya? ^^ I hope your well, since I dont know if requests are open I might just send one in anyways, if it isn’t open though I hope you can forgive me 😭 anywho

May I request Brian/Hoodie, Homicidal Liu and Jeff the Killer with a Male!S/O who has a John Doe Personality? This link should be able to explain everything about him, also youtube helps since I know a dude who explains him

Anyways thank you!

You're so sweet! I'm doing alright I hope you're doing well as well!! Requests are always welcome so don't be shy to ask!! <33

Brian/Hoodie, Homicidal Liu, and Jeff the Killer w/ a Male!S/O w/ a John Doe Personality

Tw: Mutual Stalking/insanity, brief mentions of violence, kidnapping, love being treated as a manipulation game.

- You met each proxy at a Halloween party. They had stopped someone from messing with your drink and had watched it for you. They smiled awkwardly at you when you returned and told you that you really should ask someone to watch your drink when you left because some people can be real douches. An act of kindness and caring so foreign to you that you quickly gained an obsession over them.

Brian/Hoodie

• Brian first notices you when you start following him

• He knows you're there he can tell someone is watching but when he turns around and looks for his stalker, he can't see or find you.

• Your skills allow you to ensure that he won't but your emotions are unstable at best so points of weakness can be easily observed.

• Meanwhile you keep looking for a way into his "normal" life. You learn pretty fast his life is anything but normal but you're having a hard time reading him.

• In fact you guys don't talk since Halloween that is until he finds you out and corners you weapon in hand.

• You'll try to explain yourself as he stares at you.

• If you tell him the truth of you finding him interesting but not finding "an in" to his life. He'll cock his head in confusion.

• "I just wanna hang out, honest. Meet me at the Park, 10 pm?" You'll finish with a smile as you walk away with a calm exterior but a giddy and excitable interior.

• To your surprise as you say on the swing set as the clock struck 10 Hoodie arrived. You talked and Hoodie listened with a few nods and one word inquiries and when you asked for another meeting he agreed on the condition you stop following him.

• You do... Or at least try...or find other methods.

• Soon nightly swing set talks because your "in" and after a month or so Hoodie started talking more. You guys really hit it off and you knew the lingering touches held more meaning than being just friends.

• Soon talking one a night at a park turned into him walking you home, handing you his hoodie one cold night, and then to watching you sleep and you couldn't be more ecstatic.

• You find yourself fighting the urge to just stare at him back after all he's the first person to love you the same way you do.

• You settle for facing the window when you fall asleep and using his hoodie as pajamas.

• He likes that and you know it so you use that Intel to further his insanity for you in your game of manipulation.

• Growing annoyed with your teasing Hoodie eventually sneaks in and starts sleeping under your covers with and without you, when he stops by during the day.

• When he stops by on nightly he'll snake his arms around your back and pull you into him all while muttering "mine" and "this boy is mine." repeatedly into the crook of your neck while he does so.

• One night too much is too much and he takes you. Just takes you and locks you away for himself.

Homicidal Liu

• Liu first notices you at the Halloween party, he had been sent after one of the attendants as a mission and that attendant had been the one to try and put something in your drink to begin with.

• The system knew why, as a dark thought, I mean you had a sort of charm to you that seemed to try to attract the most, intense personalities.

• When you took your cup back with a blush on your face and a small thank you on your lips, even he wasn't immune.

• Sully however starts noticing you when you start following and Stalking the system.

• "I know someone's there, come out." Silence before Sully lunges in the direction where you were hiding just for you to not be there anymore. You should've been there but with slight manipulation to your surroundings and now everything is mirrored. You are on the opposite side.

• It takes Liu an embarrassingly long time to connect the dots that his stalker and you are the same person.

•I mean after all you, the sweet boy who's been asking him to go get coffee and go on walks with the charming smile who makes him feel so normal and loved is the same one stalking him? Not possible.

• He feels like he's being mocked by the stalker so finding out the two of you are the same person came as a bit of a shock and left the System wondering which of the presented attitudes was true.

• Least violent about his confrontation. He finally catches you watching one night, pins you down and screams, "Why the fuck are you doing this y/n!?"

• You'll tell him it's because you love him and want to keep an eye on him to make sure he's safe but he won't necessarily believe that answer. Especially since he most likely finds you when his senses are sharp post kill.

• He'll confront you about that too and if you still tell him you love him, with a soft albeit slightly crazy lovesick look as you trace his scars on his face.

• A gesture you've lovingly done time and time again when he started coming to your place for hangouts and he'll lose it.

•Scoop you up at take you with him type lose it and you will have successfully obtained your goal of him falling madly in love with you. As his death grip tightens and bruises from his fingers imprinting to your skin.

• And part of him will hate himself for it because this wasn't part of the mission and what is he going to tell the operator because a boy like you? He's never going to let go.

Jeff the Killer

• The two of you meet again while stalking each other.

• While Jeff believes he's watching you sleeping soundly in your bed you're actually watching him from a tree right beside his hiding spot.

• Jeff suddenly feeling quite threatened starts searching and you who had dozed off in your spot had been spotted.

• He stares at you looks back to where he believed you to be looked back. And when he repeated that process you had somehow, unbeknownst to him, back in your room seemingly asleep.

• That caught his attention and he spent more time just observing you.

• As happy as you were about this you were also incredibly upset because now you had a much harder time watching him. While he got to watch you the easy way you had to rely on your skills which wasn't fair and frankly exhausting.

• You started to try and approach him but he'd never stay or listen. In fact most of the time he'd lunge at and attack you, and while you obsess over all the attention he gives you and find his blood lusting insanity beautiful, it was getting on your nerves that he wouldn't communicate with you.

• You eventually left a letter on the windowsill. Once things calmed down and the normal he stares at you through your window started up again. He took it you know he did and the red tint on his face made your heart melt. It seemed to be a good indicator.

• Weeks pass and he's seemingly stopped stalking you causing a near unbearable amount of despair to make it's roots in your being.

• Another one scared away without a trace and sure you could alter reality to bring him back and to watch him again but with how much you did that to watch him watch you you were exhausted and would need a moment.

• Eventually, however, a response is left lying on your bed when you get home one day. As you scan your surroundings you know someone is still in the room watching and waiting.

• You picked up the bloodstained envelope enthusiastically, gingerly opening it and excitedly reading its contents. Oh what wonderful wonderful news, he had written that with words like that he may just have to take you.

• And I suppose your red face and smile was as enough of a response that Jeff needed. Because then he lunged out of your closet, tackled you, knocked you out, and took you away.

[ratinayellowbandana]

Prompt: “I feel terrible.” And/or “I want you to kiss me right now.”

I love your fics 🥹 just yesterday I was thinking of your name while perusing ao3 and was wishing for another Imodna fic of yours

hi!! thank you so much for your kind words. it always shocks me when people, like, want to read my writing? so it really means a lot. i'm sorry this took me a little longer. i ended up combining your first one with another prompt and part of my wip so when i eventually publish a fic with an extremely similar scene from imogen's perspective.. dw about it.

anyway, here's some post-resurrection hurt/comfort. we're gonna all pretend they stayed in the castle for a couple days and sorted their shit out.

cw for feelings of helplessness and self-loathing

length: ~1.7k

some prompt lists if you're so inclined || my ao3

~~~

It’s been three days since they got her back. 

Three days since she woke on the worn wooden floors of Pike’s home to a small crowd of friends and strangers. 

Three days since she set foot in Whitestone again, a place she never hoped to return. 

And three days since everyone began treating Laudna as if she's going to shatter. 

The worst part is she feels as if she might. 

The world is too vibrant. Loud. The birds chirping outside the too-large castle window grate on her ears. The silky sheets on the too-soft four-poster bed cling to her in all the wrong ways. Her skin crawls and her bones grind and she can feel her teeth. 

The gnome who revived her said this is normal. She’d been dead, after all. The body would need time to recalibrate. Time they do not have if they want to have any hope of intervening on the solstice. 

Imogen dotes the best way she knows how. With soup and kind words and glares that warn the others to keep back if they don’t want a zap to the forehead. She offers furs from the trunk at the foot of the bed and cool cloths that do little to ease the ache of Laudna’s fragile joints. She brings pillows and keeps watch in the window seat as Laudna sleeps. 

It’s sickeningly sweet and thoughtful and lovely, and Laudna hates it just a little bit because Imogen has spent far too much time fretting over Laudna as of late when she should be anywhere but a stuffy old castle spooning broth to a dead lady whose hands won’t stop shaking. 

Laudna is fine. 

She’s fine. 

She is. 

Delilah is gone, they assure her. Imogen herself sent a bolt of lightning through the bitch’s strange conjured tree trunk in the twisting nether realm that left the smell of iron and marrow lingering in Laudna’s nose. Her limbs still sting with phantom wounds where she had thrashed against Delilah’s cage. 

Helpless. Weak. 

The others were there, too. At least, for much of the fight and everything that preceded. They had seen Laudna’s memories, as Fresh Cut Grass informed her. Learned the name she had taken care to hide all these years. Buried deep enough, even Imogen, brilliant as she is, would have to dig to uncover it. Delilah, it seemed, only cared for secrets when they were hers to keep. 

When her friends visit her chambers, their vivacity is dulled. They are tense, anxious, and trying and failing to hide the restlessness that they are all feeling. 

Orym regards her with new wariness, searching for lies and cracks, though he is kind as ever. It’s understandable, Laudna reasons. In this place, where the Briarwood reign harmed innumerable lives, she is a liability. A threat to be guarded against.

Fearne is delicate with her hugs, moves cautiously through Laudna’s space. She hasn’t even stolen any of the silver soup spoons or fine teacups, which might be most concerning of all. 

Ashton hovers in the doorway. They return her awkward waves with a nod and flick of their wrist. 

Chetney and Fresh Cut Grass seem the most unbothered. Chetney in a plush bathrobe that appears to have been hastily cropped to suit his stature, and F.C.G. chattering on about the importance of rest to the healing process. 

And Laudna hates them just a little bit because she cares for them all so deeply, but mostly, she just hates herself. Hates Delilah. Hates Otohan Thull. 

They’re losing time and they’ve already lost so much. Imogen has already lost so much. Her mother’s trail is growing colder by the day, and there is nothing Laudna can do but lay in this godsforsaken luxurious bed and wait until her body recovers. 

It’s all she can do not to break into a thousand pieces that she would scatter to the nooks and crannies so she wouldn’t have to see the pitying looks on her friends’ faces when Imogen has to help her up. 

She turns on her side and buries her face in an obnoxiously soft down pillow to muffle the sob that wells within her and wracks her body. 

She does a piss-poor job of that, too. 

“Laudna?” Imogen calls sleepily, roused from a sun-dappled doze. Then, alert, “Hey, hey–” 

She’s standing, Laudna can hear, and now she’s gone and disturbed Imogen. Bare feet pad across the cool stone floor, and the far side of the bed dips, ever considerate. She will not come closer, Laudna knows, unless given explicit consent because Imogen is wonderful and caring and lovely.

“What’s wrong, darlin’?” 

Laudna shudders. “I feel terrible.” 

“Oh,” Imogen says, and Laudna can feel the flash of guilt and concern that radiates off of her. “Can I bring you anything? Is it your head?” She shifts her weight. “Do you need water? I can go get a pitcher. Or food, maybe?”

“Stop. Please, stop,” Laudna croaks. Imogen flinches, and gods, Laudna could be sick.

Imogen retreats. “Sorry, I’ll just– sorry,” she murmurs, sounding so small. 

Laudna lifts her head and darts a trembling hand to catch her wrist. “No!” she says. Her body betrays her, the word coming out as more of a roar than she ever could have meant. “No,” she repeats, softer, “stay. Please,” because if she frightens Imogen off, she fears what will crawl into the hole left behind. 

Imogen hesitates, glances down at the ink-tipped fingers clasped around her arm, and sits again. She doesn’t speak, leaving the path clear for Laudna to lead the way, and oh, Laudna could melt. 

Laudna sighs shakily, “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean…it’s not you.” 

Not Imogen. Never Imogen. 

The silence hangs heavy between them until Laudna can bring herself to speak again. 

“This is my fault, I’m afraid,” she states flatly, refusing to meet Imogen’s gaze. Refusing to see whatever reaction she may find there. Anguish. Frustration. Irritation.

“What?” 

Confusion.  

Laudna looks up, gestures vaguely to their surroundings. “This. All of us being… trapped here.” 

“Laud, what’re you talkin’ about?” 

Imogen’s hand comes to stroke the back of Laudna’s knuckles where they wrap around her other wrist. Her fingers are calloused and work-worn, the rough patches of them catching on the imperfect parts of Laudna. 

“You should be off tracking down your mother or finding out what you can about the moon, and instead,” Laudna’s voice catches in her throat, “you’re here.”

Imogen shakes her head, exhales. “Where I should be is for me to decide.” She says it gently. It is not meant to be a reprimand. It still feels like one. “And where I should be,” she continues, “is wherever you are.” 

Laudna’s eyes flit anywhere but Imogen’s face. 

“If you want me there, of course.”

Laudna’s response is instant. “Always.” 

She finally meets Imogen’s eyes and is met with a somewhat furrowed brow. She wants to ask something, Laudna can tell. Imogen’s head is tilted curiously, her lips slightly parted. Her jaw works subtly, muscles tensing. 

“It’s not your fault,” she settles on at last. “None of it, okay?”

Laudna opens her mouth to respond.

Imogen is steely calm. “You were gone, Laudna. And I couldn’t reach you, and…and you’re here now. You’re back, and that’s all that matters.” 

Laudna shrinks into the pillows, takes her hand back beneath the sheet, fist clenching and unclenching. “I feel like such a nuisance,” she confesses quietly. “I should have tried harder to break her hold on me. I should have–”

“No. Gods,” Imogen snaps, lacking any real bite. She inhales. “Laudna, you…you were dead. And I hate sayin’ it; I hate thinkin’ about it. You couldn’t’ve done anythin’ more than what you did.” She softens, throat tightening with emotion. “You did so much. And I’m so proud of you. And… I’m so grateful you chose to come back.” 

“It wasn’t much of a choice,” Laudna whispers, “I couldn’t very well leave you, darling.” 

“You could’ve.” Imogen bites her lip, ducks her head, fiddles with the hem of her vest. “We, um, I know F.C.G. told you, but we… saw some of your memories. And, and I didn’t really wanna bring it up? So I’m real sorry, but we only saw a couple moments, and we don’t have to talk about it, but,” she looks back to Laudna, “you’re so brave. I don’t think you get told that enough. You’re so strong, Laud, and so good, and I missed you. So much.” She takes a sharp breath.

It bursts out as though holding it in any longer might suffocate her, and Laudna’s hands cease their twitching. She hesitates. Imogen’s affection has split her open, and it’s odd, she thinks, to feel so vulnerable and so safe. That those two sensations can coexist as a tingling in her chest that extends into her tendons and ligaments to warm her all over. She can sense the discolored blush rising in her cheeks. 

She does not feel brave. Strength has always been foreign and abstract. That Imogen can see her that way is… incongruous. Absurd, even. 

“You’re very kind.”

Imogen looks as if she might protest but seems to think better of it. She sighs, a slight, sad smile crossing her lips. She moves to stand again, to cross the room back to her seat, and suddenly, the thought of Imogen being so far away is unbearable. 

“Stay, please?” Laudna shuffles, lifting a corner of the quilt. “This bed is plenty big enough for two, and I dread to think of the state of your neck curled up in the window.”

“You’re sure?” Imogen asks, faint hope coloring her words. 

“Come here.” 

The bed dips again as Imogen clambers in, pressing herself against Laudna, who lets out an oomph as Imogen wraps around her and intertwines their fingers. 

“Sorry!” Imogen says with a relieved exhale, “Sorry, I just–I know I said it before, but… I really missed you.” 

“I missed you, too,” Laudna assures gently, taking in the oaty smell of Imogen. The smell of home. “Rest well, darling.” 

Imogen squeezes their hands in response and burrows closer. 

Laudna relaxes into the embrace.

[venushorned]

Approaching the heart of Waterdeep’s Castle Ward, Gossamer rationalized the necessity of this to herself. It was not paranoia; it was not madness. She was taking precautions—establishing contingencies. That was what a person did when they found themselves in delicate positions with powerful enemies. Just because hers was hiding in the shadows, licking his wounds, didn’t mean he planned to stay here for very long. The simple act of trying to conceptualize what “for very long” might even mean to something as old as him felt like standing over a bottomless pit with her toes hanging over the edge.

Stop. Breathe. You are in Waterdeep, and there is ocean air and glittering sky all around; there is no darkness intruding. The well-worn cobblestones beneath her feet offered a solid, grounding presence, and nearby, children swarmed a cart overflowing with garnet-colored apples and decadent white pears. Scholars in flowing robes and chiseled adventurers, obvious in their arms and armor, made their way in and out of bakeries, smithies, and stationers’ shops in every direction. The city was alive, and so was she. Nothing was coming to take that from her again.

Well. She didn’t really know how true that was, and that uncertainty was why she stood with Blackstaff Tower just across the street, its wrought-iron gates beckoning. It reminded her not at all of Sorcere, which she supposed was… neither here nor there, only it made her feel strange. Everything on the surface was different—even the magic academies. No one stopped her as she approached the gates; they swung slowly open of their own accord just as her hands made to push them apart. Sorcere had never been so accessible.

Beyond the threshold, through a courtyard spread out in a mosaic of ethereal light and shifting patches of faerie fire, Gossamer stepped into the Tower and felt reality bend around her. It wasn’t quite the same sensation as stepping into her own Magnificent Mansion spell—which she could no longer cast, she noted bitterly—but she recognized the static of being in a space within a vast, ever-expanding interior. Everywhere she looked, impossibly high ceilings disappeared into shadow, and translucent motes of light bobbed through the air.

It was a little like Gravenhollow, if anything. The thought might have been enough to turn her on her heel and send her immediately back out from whence she came, only someone had spotted her now. For better or worse, she was locked onto her current trajectory: they were going to ask if she needed help finding something, and she was going to say yes through gritted teeth, and the rest was going to happen however it happened. Maybe she would find what she was looking for; maybe she would leave disappointed and humiliated. 

That was exactly like Gravenhollow, wasn’t it? Hah. Haha. Hahaha.

“You’ll find him down that corridor,” the scribe was explaining. “Two lefts, a right, then take that hall all the way down…”

Gossamer’s feet carried her the rest of the way in a manner disturbingly separate from the rest of her; feeling only half certain that she’d fully understood the directions and hardly able to care, she floated down dark corridors that bent and cast strange shadows until—after what could have been minutes or hours–she found him. She turned a corner, poked her head through an ajar door, and there he was.

“I’m sorry to bother you,” she started, lingering in the doorway. “I don’t know if you remember me. We, um, were introduced a few weeks ago? My name is Gossamer?”

closed starter for @relentlessgrief

[corvisque]

You would think a city full of people who do not stay dead would not need a man like Zevran, and yet somehow he's still managed to carve out a neat little business for himself. It helps that some residents, the normal citizens who do not come and go with the moon, are not the sort to miraculously spring back after an attempt on their life; and forcing the respawn process can be rather irritating, so he's just as easily paid to be a thorn in an enemy's side. Whatever works, so long as he makes a living.

He always does try to be careful about it, but sometimes... Sometimes accidents happen, and sometimes a knife slips. Sometimes it actually ends up slicing into his own arm. To his credit, he does manage to finish the job.

But he flees the scene trailing blood, which is never a good thing.

It is only when he is certain he is out of eyesight that he stops to inspect the wound. It is pretty deep, but not to the bone -- it will probably need stitches, and it's bleeding profusely, but it is not anything he hasn't dealt with before. He sighs.

"Rookie mistake, Zevran." Just when his reputation had managed to repair itself, too. "How far to the nearest clinic from here, I wonder?"

He looks around, just now noticing how close he is to the arrival platform and the giant pit in the middle of the city. Great.

@anders-in-the-fade