#i kinda got emotional writing it

[lastflowerofyourhouse]

something i like about nona's family is that they're so like, almost a perfect little nuclear family, and then just. not.

like. pyrrha is "the person who works for her" but also the one who makes breakfast and does the dishes. she's a woman quite literally posessing the body of a cis man and really leaning into the look, honorarily trans in both directions, working construction and shaving in the mornings and braiding nona's hair before school.

and then there's camilla, her...nagging wife? troublemaking older child? roomate who she barely gets along with? the fact that palamedes shares this role is doubly weird. he's a man literally posessing the body of a cis woman, and they're both pyrrha's nagging wife/problem child/roomate. i don't personally believe that anything explicitly or overtly sexual was happening between her and either of them, but i completely understand where people who think that are coming from. and it's fucking weird (affetionate?).

even nona occupies a weird place in this dynamic. like. pyrrha is definitely a parent to her but camilla, who takes a much more active role in her daily life, is...idk. nona has a crush on her and wants to marry her and adopt dogs. camilla's feelings for nona are more parental or older-sisterly, in that she cares for her and wants to protect her, and if her feelings are more complicated than that, it's because of the obvious aspects of the situation which make her extremely sad and apprehensive of the future. her affection for nona seems relatively simple.

and then there's palamedes, who is in theory another parental figure (see: camilla's "i'll talk to your mother later" face, or pyrrha's "you're going to make someone a really irritating wife one day, sextus"), but in nona's view of things he seems like something more along the lines of an older sibling, or perhaps a cool uncle, which is funny because pyrrha arguably treats him more like a spouse than she does camilla.

it's all just so fucking weird and jumbled up on itself. pyrrha will kiss camilla on the head and say "i'll be home for dinner, dear," and then turn around and call both her and nona "daddy's own treasures" (don't get me started). she'll kiss palamedes and camilla both on the mouth and tell them she loves them. she'll tell them she didn't love them well, or even wholesomely, and she won't explain what she means by wholesome.

alecto calls her "mother and father." alecto tells her she should've given into her urges and eaten them.

palamedes and camilla are second cousins and queerplatonic and married and the same person and by the start of the book the lines between them are already dissolving.

nona is so so young and she's so so old and she's not so much younger than camilla and she's older than pyrrha can even comprehend and some days she needs help getting her shirt over her head.

and most importantly they all love each other. it's a weird and confused and unhealthy love. it's a love full of tension and annoyance and fear. it's a love that wants very badly to fit a category and can't. but it's love it's love it's love and even when it's over even when it has nowhere left to go it's not gone it can't be gone. it's over it's done you can't take loved away.

[jade-len]

i think it'd be funny if someone transmigrated as xin mo. the goddamn evil sword. instead of taking it seriously, they just really fucked around with bingge. and, somehow, ended up having the opposite effect of what it's supposedly rumored to do.

picture this: bingge, on the quest for revenge and power, comes across the almighty xin mo. this demonic sword killed everyone that dared to even try wielding it. and, the few who were lucky enough to have it by their side, eventually succumbed to the swords' will.

it is said that the sword is unlike any other, that it etches into your head and eats away your brain, until eventually it consumes you whole. it whispers, speaking in lust, greed, and hatred. it slowly beckons the wielder into giving in to the worst part of themselves and feeds off of pure sin. but to him, it is no matter; luo bingge will surely tame it.

and then he gets to the sword.

demonic qi practically oozes from xin mo. the aura surrounding it makes every part of luo bingge scream, "run; get away, away from that monster." his gut prods at him, begging bingge that this is probably a really bad idea. it's a little terrifying, how even luo bingge, the determined, vengeful demon, is now getting second thoughts about wielding xin mo from just being in its presence alone.

but luo bingge is too, a monster. so he ignores the screams of plea; pushing every thought of doubt in the back of his head, and tightly grips onto the handle. the world around him seems to spin and shake, tumble and crack, from the amount of force bingge needs to use in order to pull the sword of sin out of its place.

when bingge finally has it perfectly fit into the palms of his calloused hands, he hears whispering. he knows that the sword has accepted him as its new host.

the sword's language crawls up to him, as if it were feeling around his body and mind. checking every nook and cranny for it to settle into bingge's form, truly becoming one with the embodiment of sin. the words flow through his brain like a tragically broken guqin, a melody that holds him in a frighteningly familiar trance - all while simultaneously eating away at his brain in the worst ways possible, akin to a child and their favorite snack. it seems to beckon something, but even with luo bingge's impressive hearing, he cannot make out any words from the tone-deaf musical notes xin mo sings.

and then, it is clear. the land around him settles, and everything is still. xin mo itself seems to be.. content. at least, that is what luo bingge believes.

the language of this wretched sword reflects the state around these two monsters.

luo bingge expects it to demand for bloodshed, for the erotic ecstasy of multiple women, for bingge to steal the last of the finest gems of these horrible, vast lands.

instead, he hears this:

"yoooo damn that shit was crazy. did you see what i did there? man, you know, it feels so fucking good to get out of the dirt. hey, do you know if people can like, feed their swords or something? i'm kinda craving something spicy. we never know, in this wack world! wait, don't hold me like that, buddy. it'll make things real awkward."

but luo bingge is determined to get his revenge, so he puts up with the swords' constant rambling about.. whatever the hell it's thinking.

"wait, dude, did you seriously fuck a dying girl? that's wild. yeah, like i know she was dying but it doesn't sound like you wanted it. yo, listen to me, consent is very sexy."

"HAHA hey, dude, sir, man. you wanna play some 'i spy'? we don't have anything else to do. no? too bad, we're playing it. i spy a loser who doesn't wanna play i spy. hint: he's holding me right now."

"okay i know i'm supposed to be this super evil sword and beg to be used - woah that sounded real wrong - but can you at least clean me when you're done killing shit? if you don't, i'm gonna refuse to respond to you and you'll look like a dumbass trying to wield me."

"i can't hear you lalalalalalala you're not being very it girl right now lallalalaalalalla-"

somehow, this is worse than if xin mo was actually eating away at his brain.

weirdly enough though, as luo bingge starts spending more time with this weird ass, seemingly possessed sword, it starts to become more of a.. comfort to have it by his side than pure annoyance. he finds himself responding to it more, like, actually having full on conversations with it. it puts him at ease, wielding xin mo. the hatred doesn't consume him, instead, it seems to soothe the burning rage (and, admittedly, just replace it with small irritation) that holds onto his darkened heart.

xin mo is actually quite kind and caring, for a sword that's supposed represent and be the literal embodiment of sin. sure, it is a hassle to have it cooperate with him sometimes, and it does just ramble on and on about the most random things ever, not giving a single shit if bingge was in the middle of sleeping with maidens and slaying those who get in his way. for the first time, bingge feels so comfortable around something.

it's.. odd. what was supposed to be the turning point in his life, a big step in his plan for revenge, is now something akin to an... acquaintance. not like mobei-jun, or any of the women he's come across, but an actual, dare he say, friend.

sometimes, he finds himself thinking all of this delusional. is this what people were driven mad by? perhaps they simply could not handle dealing with a talking sword. he understands that xin mo was undoubtedly unbearable to be around at the beginning of their alliance, but it has never actually beckoned for blood, power, and sex. if anything, it does the opposite.

maybe he's the delusional one. maybe this is xin mo's way of getting to him.

maybe, xin mo should be considered a thing. the thought feels terribly laughable, as if he were witnessing a person horribly explain themselves. it also makes his teeth grind together in pure agitation.

"hey, you know, you didn't deserve any of the things they did. it wasn't your fault, binghe. the fact that you're half heavenly demon doesn't make you a monster, or any of that wild stuff.. uh, i'm here for you, okay? i know you don't really like talking about all of this or opening up, but i just want you to know that you can.. talk about it. it's not like i can tell anyone else, anyways.

hey- shit i didn't mean to make you cry! wait, wait it's okay to cry! you need to let it out anyways, i promise it doesn't make you weak. there, there. i don't have any hands, so me patting you on the head with my handle will have to do. there, there.. everything will be alright, you'll be okay. i'll be here every step of the way, even if you want to get rid of me."

xin mo, the demonic sword, is more of a person - a good person - than anyone he'd ever come across.

...and then bingge and the xin mo transmigrator become besties or he falls for the damn sword. knowing him, he probably doesn't even know the difference between platonic and romantic attraction anyways. maybe bingge gets a plant body for xin mo using airplane's wack writing. idk i typed all of this down in one sitting.

(plot twist: it's not that the transmigrator xin mo had the opposite effect, it was literally just a placebo effect. luo bingge thought that, and thus it actually did help him lmao)

[atropinenightshade]

I'm Tired.

I see how they view you

Always so awed

While I’m pushed to the side

Forget how it’s me always talking

It’s me that always tries 

And I hate that you constantly mock

How I often cry

When I see who you are

And how you act

A part of me dies

What is so hard?

Why are you often sharp?

Can you just stop cutting through me?

Can you just see that I’m a human that makes mistakes?

That maybe, just maybe, i will never be as fucking good as you?

You act like you’re brave and you say that I’m weak

And if not with words it’s by that condescending way you speak

Yet explain why you are the run who runs away?

I want to be perfect

I want to be fucking perfect

Good and kind

I wish I was like you

I wish I didn’t love like you

I wish I had no heart like you

I wish I was cold like you

All I really wanted was your kindness

All I really wanted was one good word

I wanted to be enough

You blame me for seeking more

But why are you never happy with me?

I’m sorry that I got your blood on my hands

Do I even care?

You were happy 

You dared

You were willing to leave me to die

Our relationship is a lie

I want to be perfect

I want to be fucking perfect

Good and kind

I wish I was like you

I wish I didn’t love like you

I wish I had no heart like you

I wish I was cold like you

I guess now that you’re gone all of that is true

To them I am perfect

I am the one

I don’t love you (you didn't love me that much anyway)

I have no heart because you burnt it all up

Now I’m cold like you

@liketwoswansinbalance

I did it. I went in a totally different direction but I did it. I'll come out with an explanation behind the lyrics later.

[somegrumpynerd]

Do you guys wanna see a thing I tried writing? It's pretty unfinished and I don't think I will finish it but it was fun to play with and it might be okay as a lil snippet! I also have like no energy for drawing right now but I wanna post something lol

(The context is Cross and Killer are alone on a mission in some unspecified au when Killer goes stage 3)

“Killer?”

Cross looked over when he got no response, half expecting Killer to have wandered off in some direction as he did on these longer jobs. His loyalty to Nightmare was often at war with his attention span in the field, and you could expect a job to take longer if it was anywhere a cat was liable to appear.

What he didn’t expect was to catch sight of Killer’s wildly fluctuating soul glinting in the reflection of the knife that was coming right for him.

Cross managed to lunge back just in time for the knife to arc downwards into the snow in his place. Its wielder slowly turned his head, tracking the path to where Cross was now. His empty eye sockets gushed with more ooze than usual, stare somehow colder than the ice he was now shaking from his blade.

“Killer…” Cross began, trying to keep his tone steady and authoritative like a warning. He was ever hopeful that this was some stupid game Killer was playing out of boredom, but that hope died as he watched some of the black goop begin to drip out of the corner of the other’s mouth.

That only happened when he went stage 3.

Shit.

Cross felt his soul drop. He’d never dealt with Killer like this alone, usually they handled him as a team if Nightmare wasn’t there to take over. In the time it would take him to look down at his phone to call for help there would probably be a knife in his head.

This was fine. He could handle it. He always had more training and stamina than Killer anyway, he just had to play keepaway with his life long enough to go home with it.

Killer teleported in front of him, something that caught Cross off guard. In his right mind, Killer almost never seemed to use his magic in fights unless he wanted to fuck around with the other. 

[Put the fight part here idk pretend there was a really cool fight, it was so cool, you loved it]

Cross felt his soul drop again, but this time the rest of his body followed. Killer was using his gravity magic to hold him to the ground, and was shambling towards him ready to finish things. Cross struggled for a moment to see if he could fight his way out of the magic’s hold, but to no avail. He was pinned as his assailant now stood threateningly over him, knife raised. In a flash of desperation, he reached out both hands and grabbed Killer’s ankles, quickly moving his head to one side as a bone attack pierced up out of the snow and struck the other in the jaw.

It wasn’t his strongest attack, but it was enough to knock Killer backwards and stun him. As Cross felt his soul being released from the other’s magic, he quickly scrambled forward and sat on Killer’s chest as he lay sprawled out in the snow, pinning his arms down on either side of his head as he began to come back around. His face was leaking so much determination from every crevice that at that point it was hard to make out an expression under it all, but Cross could tell he was frustrated as he felt the rumble of bone attacks beginning to rise up out of the snow around them.

He followed suit, carefully forming a line of his own bone attacks closely around them to act as a barrier. He could feel Killer’s attacks bouncing off of his, each hit more desperate and frantic than the last like an animal clawing at the sides of its cage. He felt some magic encircling his soul again, but this time trying to raise him up rather than push him down. It was weaker than before, whether because Killer’s attention was split with still launching bone attacks or because he was beginning to tire out, but Cross managed to fight against it and stay put.

“Killer!” he barked, leaning over the other’s face. “That’s enough. You’re not going anywhere until you pull yourself together!”

The gravity magic seemed to cease at his shout, so Cross continued in the fervent hope that he was getting through to him.

“We’ll stay here all night if that’s what it takes, but I’m reporting back to Nightmare when this is over and I’m not leaving without you! Do you hear me?! I don’t care if I have to bring you back hogtied over my shoulder, I’m not gonna hurt you and I’m not gonna let you kill me!”

He didn’t realise he’d been shouting until the clinking and scraping of bone attacks had slowed and stopped altogether, and it was just the sound of his promise echoing off the bones and snow surrounding them.

And the strange gurgling sound coming from below him.

He opened his eyes again in confusion and stared down at the skeleton weakly fighting against his grasp, determination pooling and soaking into the snow from every gap in his skull. It took a second longer than he’d like to admit for Cross to realise that sound was Killer choking on it.

His bone attacks shrunk back into the ground and he shot backwards, landing ungracefully on his backside with a little curse. He hurried to pull Killer up and help him lean forward, swatting his back as he retched and spat the toxic goop up onto the ground where they’d just fought.

It was never an elegant dismount from these things, they’d found there was just no dignified way to get out a ribcage worth of black ooze. After a minute of heaving and gasping, Killer finally got a hold of himself and started glancing frantically around.

“Where’s Dust??” he managed to choke out with the urgency of a parent who’d lost their child. It always seemed to be the first thing on his mind when he came to from one of these episodes, Cross was never really sure why since any other time it seemed like they hated each other.

“He’s at home,” Cross assured, pressing one hand to Killer’s spine for support. “It’s just us, we were on a mission.”

He could see now that Killer’s soul had calmed down from the pulsating mass of spikes it was a few minutes ago and become somewhat soul shaped, still twitching nervously but a far calmer sight than before. That was a good sign that the attack was over. He wondered how much control Killer had over it, since he’d definitely seen it turn that way without having to go through a fight to the death first, but it was rare.

Cross flinched as he felt Killer grab him again, though this time instead of kicking him in the ribs he simply held on for dear life. That was another clear sign, after he was done puking up whatever goop had built up he usually cried for a while.

It was odd, especially the first few times, to see someone who always seemed so disconnected and unphased have a sobbing breakdown after trying to kill you.

“Hey,” Cross said, voice hushed as he wrapped his arms around the skeleton trembling in his lap. “It’s okay… you’re okay…”

Cross had never been the best at comforting words, but he knew Killer just needed someone to cling to while he got a hold of himself, and he was content to be that for a little while. Especially after being thrown around so much, his aching bones were more than happy for an excuse to sit in the snow for a bit. He could feel Killer’s soul being pressed against his chest as he wept silently into Cross’s shoulder, the fear and regret seemed to be radiating from it like smoke from a smothered flame.

He wondered idly if this was what Nightmare could feel all the time.

...

He also wondered just how hard it was going to be to get these black stains out of his jacket again once he pried Killer's face off of it.

[ghostofsnails]

so did you guys know theres this character called tristan vik disventure camp and

[astranauticus]

link click yingdu ep 1 is truly the gift that keeps on giving the more you think about it the more layers you unlock. at first i thought the 'video call with phone in shirt pocket' trick is a pretty effective way of replicating their dives with like.. normal human technology without their powers and then i realised that's probably because lu guang specifically thought 'this is a situation that would call for a dive except cheng xiaoshi doesn't know about the whole time travel powers thing yet, what would be a good and reasonable approximation of that that i can spring on him rn'. also, we know this is not the first time he's experiencing this day because he was checking the clock before he proposed the whole video call phone camera thing, implying that he had the 'script' for this day just like he did with the anime convention, but even then he could only warn cheng xiaoshi about the guy behind him with the bat right before he was about to get hit - probably because cheng xiaoshi kept 'doing unnecessary actions' and messing up the timeline/lu guang's 'script' and forcing him to improvise. once again, lu guang's trying to protect cheng xiaoshi while also hiding information from him and cheng xiaoshi's failing to follow lu guang's instructions and putting himself in danger because of his own kindness and impulsivity - their entire dynamic moving forwards, captured in their first (arguably more like.. the 0th) 'job' together.

[tainebot01]

Another Ace Attorney animatic, this time inspired by a video by @arcticflakes here!

[hailsatanacab]

For the prompt ask game!

9. Sleep deprivation and/or 37. Secret Relationship and/or 40. Identity reveal/major secret reveal

(I selected a few so you can chose the one that resonates the most.)

For any DPxDC characters. <3

*emerges from a google docs, covered in blood and panting* i did it... it is done.

thank you for the prompt!! because i love a challenge, or because i can't stop myself, i went and did all of them!! for everyone!! everyone is sleep deprived and everyone is revealing secrets ^^'

Danny/Tim, mentioned Jazz/Jason

(๑•́ ₃ •̀๑) enjoy!! prompt ask game

kid napping

“Red Robin, sound off. Status?”

“All good here, Oracle. Everything okay?”

It’s been a slow night, never a good sign. Pent up energy itches under his skin and he stretches when he stands, preparing for whatever Oracle is going to throw his way. It’s going to be something, he can tell.

“Good.” Relief briefly colours her voice answers, before she becomes serious again, keys clacking away in the background. “There’s been a report from Agent A. It appears that one Timothy Drake has been kidnapped and is being ransomed for five million dollars and a helicopter. I’m tracing the call now.”

“A helicopter, too? Kidnappers these days, used to be they just wanted their money and that would be the end of it… a fucking helicopter, wow.” Red Hood scoffs, and Red Robin can’t help but join in the laughter over the comms.

“Doesn’t exactly sound like these are the brightest tools in the shed now, does it, Hood? Wonder what poor schmuck they’ve got instead.” Nightwing says, slightly out of breath. 

The smile slips off Red Robin’s face and clammy, cold dread shivers down his spine. A stone settles in his stomach. He wets his lips and clears his throat. “Oracle, can you pull up the CCTV on my apartment near WE? Any closer to tracing the call?”

“Still on the trace, they’re using a jammer. Agent A is cooperating so they should phone back soon, which will help.” she reports, falling into silence as he finds the video feed.

“You know who it is?”

“I hope not.”

It’s tense, he taps his feet on the rooftop, fingers tightening over his grapple as he fights the urge to fly off the roof and check for himself. It better not be him. Please, dear God, don’t let it not be him.

“What are you thinking, Red Robin?” Batman growls through the comms. Red Robin can hear the wind under his words, whipping fast as he no doubt makes his way over to his position.

“I had a, uh, a friend coming over tonight. From behind, he… he could be mistaken for Tim Drake.”

The jokes fall silent, the comms growing serious as they pick up on his tone.

“Well, fuck.” 

“Eloquent as always, Hood.”

“Shut up, bat-brat.”

“You were right, Red Robin, it looks like it was your… friend they caught, instead. About two hours before the call came in. I’m following their van now, I should have the destination soon. In the meantime, it looks like they’re heading towards the docks.”

Red Robin throws himself off the building, shooting his grapple as low as he dares to get the fastest swing he can. 

They have Danny. 

Worry gnaws at his gut even as gravity pulls it into his throat with another swing.

Danny is… And Red Robin means this in the nicest way possible, but Danny is fragile. They haven’t talked about it, but RR knows that Danny has health problems. Something plaguing him since he was young, that’s landed him in the hospital more than once. A weak heart, far too slow to be normal, possibly chronic fatigue—he’s always so tired, falling asleep anywhere he can.

Sometimes, he doesn’t even need to put his head down. Once, when they had gone to the corner store to get some popcorn to enjoy their movie (which Danny had explicitly and repeatedly promised he wouldn’t snore through this time), Danny had rested his head on Tim’s shoulder while they were waiting and he’d just… gone. On his feet, asleep, just like that.

He’d laughed, when Tim woke him up. Apologised. Said Tim made him feel safe enough to fall asleep just about anywhere and—

Red Robin grits his teeth and corrects his course as Oracle updates them with more precise coordinates.

Tim had carried him home that night, piggy-back for four blocks, but by the end of it, he wasn’t tired at all. And that’s another thing, Danny’s just so light. It’s concerning.

They never did watch that movie, but it’s a night that Tim can’t help remembering fondly all the same. They’d ended up rewatching some old sitcom that Danny’s seen countless times but Tim’s never really bothered with, Danny drifting off to sleep again and Tim eventually following him, because… sleep is easy with Danny.

It’s the same for him, he thinks. He can’t explain it, but he feels safe enough to sleep with Danny, too.

He needs to be alright.

“So… Is this friend just a friend? Or a friend friend?” 

“A friend, Nightwing. Now hurry up.”

He’s not in the mood to play these games, not now. There’s a reason why none of them know about Danny, and this is one of them. His family, as much as he loves them, are just too damn nosey for their own good.

“You know that doesn’t answer my question at all.”

“Then why don’t you ask something intelligible, rather than continue with your childish antics?” Robin snarks, and for once, Red Robin has to agree with him. Or, rather, he’s grateful for the distraction that it gives him.

Tim has secrets. He’s sure that Danny does, too, and so far—aside from the standard background check he always runs on new friends and friend friends alike—he’s done very well to respect them. He just can’t say that his family would do the same.

They can be overwhelming, to say the least, and Tim has tried his best to protect Danny from that.

Only to fail to protect him in every other way that it counts.

“How long have you guys been ‘friends’?”

“Nightwing, save it, please.”

“What’s his name?”

He ignores him.

Red Robin lands on the building first, thank goodness. He wastes no time in finding a skylight that can be pried open fairly quietly, slipping inside without a second thought.

“Wait for backup, Red Robin, that is an order!” Batman says, when he lets them know he’s in.

“Negative, Batman. I’m getting him back.”

“Red Robin!”

He weaves silently through the desks on the second floor of the warehouse, always moving, always keeping a trained eye on the shadows around him.

When he reaches the stairs, he hears voices.

“Looks like three of them, armed. The-the hostage is tied to a chair in the middle of the room, he…” Red Robin takes a steadying breath. The person has a burlap sack over their head is slumped to the side, from where he is, Red Robin can’t see if his chest is moving. There’s blood on the floor. “He needs medical assistance. Another two on the northside entrance.”

The comms explode in admonitions, everyone pleading with him to stay where he is, to wait for help, but fuck that. With a tap, he switches them off and he can finally, just about make out the words of the kidnappers as he creeps down the first few steps.

“—shouldn’t he have woken up by now?”

“I don’t know, man, you’re the one that hit him! Do you think he’s—”

“No! I didn’t even hit him that hard, I swear!” the man cries, holding his hands up in surrender. “I just couldn’t take any more of his stupid jokes!”

If there was any doubt in Red Robin’s mind that they picked up Danny by mistake, it’s gone now. Yeah. If you get Danny, you get his stupid jokes, too.

He creeps closer. 

There’s some storage crates between him and Danny, if he can get behind there without being seen then that leaves him in a good position for when whoever’s next in takes out the guys at the front. He can’t do anything without them gone first, not without risking them taking shots inside and endangering Danny.

The man that hit Danny circles round behind him and grabs at his hands.

“What are you even doing, Pat? Who gives a shit, leave him alone.”

“I’m just checking! I just gotta see!”

“Fuck’s sake, guys, who cares? We just gotta get our money, that’s it—”

“And our helicopter!”

“And our—”

“Shit, I can’t find a pulse! Shit, Frank, I killed him, I—”

Jason told him once that when the Pits overtook him, he used to see green. Instead of blacking out, he’d be swimming in that putrid Lazarus colour and he’d slip into that rage and bad things would happen.

He’s heard of people seeing red, too, but really, he thinks that’s more of a literary device.

Tim doesn’t see anything aside from his targets.

A barrage of birdarangs take the guns from the guys at the front, the three around Danny startling badly enough that the guy that kil—that’s behind Danny—stumbles, losing his footing.

Only one of them shoots.

Amateurs. 

There’s a round of curses on the comms as the shots come through. Oracle must have turned them back on.

“Fucking hell—Nightwing and I are at the front, Red Robin, don’t worry about them.”

Red Robin’s barely listening.

He spins, kicking the largest guy in the stomach hard enough so that he doubles over, wheezing. Following through the movement, another kick lands on the side of his head and he’s down. 

The second one, Frank, gets his wits about him and raises his gun, spraying wildly. He’s a shit shot, going wide in panic, and Red Robin simply ducks and rushes forward, keeping low. Tackling the guy, he grabs the gun off of him and uses it to smash him across the face, once, twice, three times, before he stops moving.

“Oracle, get police and paramedics on scene, now.” Batman says, the displeasure in his voice evident. “Red Robin, Robin and I are coming in from the top.”

Pat hasn’t even made it up off the floor yet, scrambling backwards, fear plain on his face. 

Red Robin stands, breathing heavily, gun still in hand.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I swear I didn’t mean to do it! Please—please, don’t, please!”

Red Robin doesn’t kill.

Well, no, Red Robin doesn’t normally kill.

No, that’s not quite right, either.

Red Robin has killed. Red Robin will more than likely kill again. Red Robin sees no problem with killing.

The gun is up, pointing towards the guy without any real thought about it.

Footsteps rush behind him, the familiar heavy footfalls of Batman and Robin, so he doesn’t bother turning around. The gun follows the guy as he keeps pulling himself backwards, snot and tears mingling down his face.

“Red Robin,” Batman says, softly.

It’s always weird hearing Batman’s voice like that. It’s not the first time, obviously—Batman can’t use his scary intimidating voice on victims or children, after all—but having it used on him is weird. 

“Breathe.”

“He’s dead. They killed him.”

If hearing Batman’s voice was weird, Red Robin can’t even recognise his own.

Distantly, he realises he’s dissociating. There’s a tightness in his chest, it’s hard to breathe, a growing buzz drowns out any noise in his ears and he can’t think, he can’t—

A heavy hand squeezes his shoulder, jolting him out of his thoughts. Batman reaches around and gently removes the gun from his grip, and Tim feels the instant loss of it. He should have done it, why hadn’t he done it?

Robin takes care of the last man, his crying cut off by a swift kick to the head. Nightwing and Red Hood join them, zip-tying the men on the floor and starting to drag them back to the entrance of the warehouse one by one.

No one says a word.

Shrugging off Batman’s hand, Tim moves towards the chair.

Shaking, he takes a deep breath and removes the sack. The small part of him that was left hoping it wasn’t him, it couldn’t be him, please dear God let it not be him, shatters.

Even dead, he looks peaceful.

Tim’s seen death. He’s no stranger to it, he’s seen what it can do to a person. There’s some blood coagulating over his eyebrows, but otherwise, he looks peaceful. Is that comforting? That he didn’t suffer?

Danny’s head lolls to the side as the sack comes completely away, his hair flopping over his eyes. Tim’s been on at him to get a haircut lately, he thinks it’ll be nice tidied up a bit, just on the sides. It’ll get rid of that permanent bedhead. Help him with job interviews, he’s got to be thinking about that now that he’s in his last year of college.

It’s about the only thing that’ll hold him back, Tim thinks. Danny’s brilliant. Any employer would be a fool to turn him down because of his shaggy hair, but employers are stupid so it makes sense to put your best foot forward and—

Tim falls to his knees.

Fuck.

He’s dead, he’s really—Danny’s skin is horribly pale, cold to the touch. Gone is his bright, cheerful smile. 

“Danny, I’m sorry, I’m so, so sorry, I—” 

He stops himself with a deep, shuddering breath. He can’t break down here, he can’t, he can’t, he can’t.

Instead, he tips forward to rest his head in Danny’s lap, arms curling around himself. They were too late. They got here as fast as they could and they were too late.

 “Danny, I’m so sorry…” he whispers. “I… I love you, I love you, I’m sorry.”

Dimly, he can feel the others standing around them. Someone crouches down beside him, resting a comforting arm over his back, but he doesn’t turn his head to see who it is. He squeezes his grip on Danny’s legs tighter.

“Come on, baby bird. Let’s—”

They’re interrupted by a huge, honking snore as Danny jerks himself awake.

Tim’s head snaps up, staring at Danny with wide eyes.

“You were asleep?” Red Robin springs up, several different emotions rapidly flip flopping through him.

“Wha… What?” Danny heaves a yawn, blinking blearily down at him. “Sorry, I’m just… they were shit kidnappers, man, really boring. Honestly, worst abduction yet.”

“You were asleep? I thought you were dead!”

“Not mutually exlusive, you know.” Danny says through another yawn. He rolls his neck around with an almighty crack and glances at everyone. “Didn’t think I’d warrant the whole Bat brigade, though…”

“The kidnappers thought they had Tim Drake.” Batman supplies, while Red Robin tries to work through the emotional whiplash.

“Ah, makes sense… wait.” Danny sits up suddenly, squinting at Red Robin. “Did you say you loved me?”

“No, of course not, why would I—”

“Tim? Is that—are you—are you Red Robin?”

“Everyone, hold the fuck up!” Red Hood shouts from the other side of the warehouse, having finished securing the perps to a streetlight outside. “Double R is dating Danny fucking Nightingale?”

Well, there goes his identity… Oh, who’s he kidding, Danny’s smart. There’s no way he could have salvaged that. This was not how he thought the night was going to go.

“Cranberry, is that you?” Danny twists in his chair, somehow delighted to see Red Hood rescuing him, too. “I thought I smelled you lurking about!”

“Shut it, you little shit. Since when were you dating this dweeb?”

“I’m sorry,” Red Robin pleads, hands in the air to try and slow down the onslaught of information and insults, “you two know each other?”

“Cranberry?” Nightwing echoes, looking as lost as Red Robin feels.

“Yeah, Cranberry—The Cranberries—zombie, zombie, zombie-ie-ie. Obviously. Also he’s wearing a big, fuck off red helmet.”

“Yeah, sure, makes sense.”

It’s about the only thing that does.

“And please don’t call my boyfriend a dweeb, Cranberry. Especially when he just said he loves me for the first time.”

“He only said it because he thought you were dead.”

“I am dead, so it counts.”

“Only half, so I’d say that puts you at a solid ‘like’. Tim’s—and savour this, Tim, because I’m only going to say it once—Tim’s intelligent, so I’m sure he’ll come to his senses soon.”

Danny just throws Red Hood such a shit-eating grin. A level of feral that Tim’s only seen before in Damian. 

“That’s what I used to say about Jazz, too.”

Hood scoffs in offence, and to be honest, Tim’s not sure where he should go from here. What the hell is happening, how do they know each other?

“Come on, is anyone going to untie me or am I really meeting your family mafia-style?”

“Do it yourself, Slimer.” Red Hood laughs, crossing his arms.

“Ugh, you suck so much. I’ll fucking slime you, just you wait. Can’t believe Jazz even likes you, I preferred it when she was dating Johnny.”

And then, without Danny doing anything other than muttering obscenities at Red Hood, the ropes fall to the ground. In one swift motion, Danny stands up and stretches himself to his full height of 5’6.

“All of you need to explain, now.” commands Batman, and honestly, Red Robin’s very much on his side of it.

“I can’t believe it… Jason and Timmy are both in secret relationships? That’s… How come no one told me?” Poor Nightwing sounds the most shocked out of all of them. He turns to Damian and clasps onto both of his shoulders. “You’re not secretly dating, are you, D? Please tell me you’re not, please tell me you’re single, please?”

Of course, Robin just clicks his tongue and pushes his hands away. Really, Red Robin doesn’t think that Nightwing’s in any danger of that happening, he’d be surprised if anyone could stand Robin enough to actually date him.

He shakes his head and turns to Danny, who’s staring right back at him, worry clear on his face.

Fuck, he... He's alive. He's really alive.

Tim pulls him into a bone-crushing hug, fingers buried deep in his NASA shirt. Tucking his face into the crook of Danny's shoulder, he laughs wetly with the joy of it. He's alive. He hasn't lost him. He's safe.

“I’m sorry I haven’t told you before now, starshine, but…” Danny breaks the hug and softly pulls away from him to rise on his tiptoes to place a kiss his cheek. The skin burns cold where his lips touch. “I love you, too. Also, you’re gonna wanna sit down. This is going to be a lot.”

[evocatiio]

if chibnall was the one writing this season you lot would be talking VERY differently

[pa-pa-plasma]

you just made the scientific discovery of the century & you want to tell everyone & your kids are first on that list but you can't find them. you manage to get a hold of your daughter & she says everything is fine but her voice gets tight when you try to mention your work & she sucks in a breath & says she won't keep you from it any longer than she already has & doesn't say bye as she hangs up the phone. you have a sinking feeling in your gut & you really want to get back to what you were doing but. something's wrong. where are your kids. why was your daughter not surprised when you told her. why was she so quick to hang up on you. your husband has the same type of mind & that's probably why neither of you can ignore this odd turn of events & so you decide to track them down. the research can wait. after all, the spook got away somehow afterwards. it's not like you have anything to go through but data & recordings.

[whatwooshkai]

URM checks notes NUMBER NINETEEN

"Oh." Chase stops walking, doorwings springing to attention. "I didn't realize we'd gone this far."

Blades turns around as soon as he realizes Chase has stopped, and jogs back over to meet him. "Wassup?" he asks around the silica wafers he's crunching on.

Chase frowns and takes a step away so he doesn't get any crumbs on him. "Don't talk while you're eating," he reflexively chastises, before gazing back up at the building he'd stopped in front of. "I just... I used to live here."

"Here?" Blades swallows and narrows his optics incredulously at the industrial building. It's not much of a home, gray and imposing with very few windows, but then again, the buildings like this scattered through the city were all he knew up until recently.

It's as home as he'll ever get, he supposes. But home is a place you're supposed to be able to return to, right?

"Well, that makes two of us," Blades says nonchalantly. "We didn't have any windows, though."

Chase turns to face him very slowly. Blades is usually so tight-lipped about his past, they all know next to nothing about his life before the academy. But he's opening up... because Chase is?

Oh, yes, that makes sense. Heatwave likes to do this too, right? Trading secrets. Tell me about you, and I'll tell you about me.

Chase can play this game.

"This was the last one," he continues softly, doorwings dropping a little, reflexively measuring the air currents around them. "Where I failed my final exams. I grew up in several facilities just like this around Iacon."

"Oh." Blades has one hand hovering, like he wants to touch Chase but isn't sure if he should. "How'd you fail?"

Blades isn't playing the game correctly. He's pushing further before he's giving back. Chase looks up at the building again, and suddenly feels a deep and oppressive longing for his batch.

But they're not in this building. They've moved on to a precinct by now, and likely have their own apartment or apartments. They're living their lives now. They're not here.

"I did well on my written exams," Chase says, mostly to distract himself. "But I kept failing my practical exams."

"How?"

Blades isn't playing right. This isn't fair, Chase is giving far too much and Blades is giving too little.

Chase stares at the building a little more, and feels an odd emotion swirling in his tanks. He's... angry?

He's angry. At this stupid building, at Ultra Magnus, at the enforcers, at Blades for asking questions.

"They said I was too strict on the law," Chase murmurs. His wings snap out when Blades steps closer, and thankfully he gets the message and keeps his distance.

"Well, I mean, I guess that's a little fair," Blades says, and Chase's finials pin back. "You have to make the punishment fit the crime. If something's unusually harsh-"

"No one should get away with any crime," Chase growls. "I agree, there is nuance to situation, but you have to penalize mechs." His wings ruffle.

Being angry is uncomfortable. It simmers under his plating and demands all his attention. He squeezes his hands into fists. "Including those in the administration. They kept asking questions, about what if it affected our jobs, or the way society works, or if it endangered those in power would it even be worth it?" Chase squeezes his optics shut, letting out a harsh vent and hoping the crawling feeling of needing to do something leaves with the air. "I was upset with the curriculum, so I tried to uncover the source."

"Oh." Blades' tone has turned dark, his field curious, and also frustrated. But he's doing something odd with it, as if trying to communicate that the anger is not focused on Chase. It isn't quite clear, but he appreciates it regardless. "Is that why they failed you?"

"No." Chase looks back up at the building. "They gave me one more chance after finding me looking into... them. But I was never allowed to be alone after that. But, my final exam..."

Chase shutters his optics again. Backtalking is not an enforcer trait! the voice of one of his instructors screams in his audials. You're nothing but an insolent little brat who thinks you're better than the rest of us-

"Chase?"

Chase vents harshly and shoves the memories away. Talking about it is good, right? Besides, it's all over.

They can't touch him now.

"I'm okay." Chase turns back to Blades. "They simulated someone breaking into the building and attacking us without telling us what was happening." He vents harshly again. "I thought he was going to kill my batchmates. He had taken a few down, and a vibroknife to one's neck, and it was just me pointing my gun at him.

"They were shouting at me to kill him." Chase blindly reaches out and Blades grabs his hand, squeezing it tight. "I tried to shoot his knee, incapacitate him so he could face justice. But... the gun was empty. They gave me an empty gun. And they were not happy with me."

Cohort above all else! the voice screams in his helm. You should NEVER risk your cohort for justice. If they threaten a life, take theirs.

But-

But NOTHING. This was your last chance. When push comes to shove, you've proven you're WEAK.

The enforcers do not tolerate weakness.

"Oh." Blades says. "And now you're here."

"I don't understand," Chase growls. "What I did was perfectly acceptable, even in regards to the curriculum-"

"Oh, Chase," Blades says, soft and almost mournful. Chase falls silent. "I think they just wanted you to follow orders."

"Oh."

Why can't you just follow orders?

"I don't want to keep talking about this," Chase says suddenly, pulling away from Blades.

"Yeah, of course," Blades says softly. "Let's go back."

"Right."

They've just started walking when an achingly familiar voice reaches Chase's audials. "Chase! Chase, is that you?"

Blades' optics narrow. "Is he one of your-"

"No. Just a friend." Chase takes a deep vent, steels his field into a neutral state, and turns to face the approaching mech.

Smokescreen scoops Chase up into a hug that's just a little too tight. "How're you doing, buddy?" he asks, cupping Chase's face. "Oh man, it's been too long! I heard you got shifted to the Rescue Bots, but man, I didn't think they'd put you through the works like this. I mean, the optics are cool, but they aren't, well, you."

"It is nice to see you too, Smokescreen," Chase murmurs, fluttering his wings to return the greeting Smokescreen's are flapping. "How have you been?"

"I've been doing great!" Smokescreen's wings flutters excitedly, and he moves his hands from Chase's face to his shoulders. "Your batch is doing good too, they're great kids." His face pulls into a frown. "I know the policies and you can't talk to them. But I thought you might like to know."

"Yes, that is... nice to hear." Chase's frame might be overheating.

"Oh, but who's this?" Smokescreen asks, gesturing to Blades with a wing.

"Blades," Blades introduces himself. He doesn't offer a hand, and has begun crunching on his silica wafers again. "A friend."

"Oh, that reminds me!" Smokescreen lets go of Chase and starts tapping on his comm. "Prowl's a few blocks over, I gotta tell him you're here! He'd love to see you!"

Chase's tanks drop to his pedes. "That really isn't necessary-"

"He's on his way." Smokescreen tucks his comm away and turns back to Chase with another grin. "But you're making friends! I'm real proud of you, kiddo," he admonishes, petting between his finials.

Blades is watching the two of them, tensed, like he's ready to fight at a moment's notice. Not for the first time, Chase wonders if he carries weapons.

Tires squeal as an enforcer rounds the corner, before transforming with a bounce and landing right in front of them. Prowl's face doesn't match his driving, nor his field, flitting with carefully contained excitement. "Chase," he says, with a soft and professional smile, "it's good to see you."

"It is good to see you too," Chase says, accepting and clasping Prowl's outstretched hands.

Prowl's gaze drifts behind Chase, and his optics widen a modicum. He's shocked. "Oh," he says. "Hello."

Blades field is tucked tight to his frame, but his rotors are flared in a clear show of hostility. Both Smokescreen and Prowl's wings drop into a position of do-not-worry-I-am-not-a-threat.

"Do you know him?" Chase asks Blades, now almost worrying about potential weapons on Blades' frame.

Blades doesn't answer. "We have met," Prowl says vaguely. "I am glad to see you are doing well."

Blades' rotors hike up higher. .:We should go. Now:.

.:Only if you tell me why:. Chase challenges. It's only fair, he thinks.

"We should probably go," Smokescreen says, but whether it's for a legitimate reason or he can sense the tension in the air is unclear. "We can't be seen slacking off."

He pushes past Prowl to rub his chevron to the crest of Chase's helm. "Keep out of trouble, alright? And don't be a stranger! They never said you couldn't talk to us."

"Of course," Chase says, letting Prowl rub his chevron against him next. He's pinged twice not a moment later.

Blades tugs insistently at a wing, which Chase flicks out of his grip. He turns to face him, wings flaring up in anger. "Why-"

"Alright, stay safe!" With another quick hug from Smokescreen, the two enforcers speed off together.

"Ugh, finally," Blades growls. "Let's go."

"I don't understand what your problem is," Chase says, flicking his wing to try and get rid of the phantom sensation of a hand on it. "And do not touch my wings ever again."

"Noted," Blades says. "Sorry. I didn't mean- I just wanted to get out of there."

"Why?"

"Because... they let one of them practice questioning with me," Blades says softly. "Regarding my brothers' murders. I'm sure he's nice, but..."

Chase patiently waits for Blades to continue, but he trails off into silence.

It's nothing compared to what Chase told him, but it's something. Brothers, interrogations, murder?

Chase doesn't like not knowing. But Blades likes not telling. So here they are, at a standstill.

"Okay," Chase says softly. He reaches for Blades' hand, and the helicopter takes it.

They walk home in silence.

[wayfayrr]

I finished my tattoo sleeve 🎉 took 3 sessions, and I almost fell asleep while my tattoo artist was doing my bicep, but I’m done ✨ But got me thinking, what’s your thoughts on Hylian vs Human customs when it comes to tattoos? And piercings too, cause thinking on that too, got a couple ear piercings, snake bites, septum, and a nose ring on both sides, love to know your thoughts on this <3

Also, while we’re on the subject, when it comes to pain, what do you think is the difference between Hylians and Humans? Like do you think humans can take more pain? Not sure if you’ve said much on this topic, but I love to hear any thoughts on these things <33

~🍀 anon

CONGRATS ON THE SLEEVE CLOVER!!!! I bet it looks fantastic and that the sessions were all worth it <3 (also your piercings sound super neat too <333)

but about the differing customs when it comes to tattoos? (are there any characters with tattoos now that I think about it?) I think hylians put a lot more meaning behind any tattoo. As in you are not allowed to be tattooed unless there is a good enough reason. Partly due to how hylia sees hyilans as pure and perfect so they shouldn't need to stain their skin like that (I should say I don't have anything against tattoos whatsoever and I'm trying to work up the courage to get one so none of that reflects my irl opinion) Whereas piercings seem to be a right of passage, with the links getting their ears peirced with their hoops when they come of age, it's not about self-expression as much as upholding traditions to hylians

humans on the otherhand? Self-expression all the way babyyyy, you already wear more colourful and patterned clothes than they do. humans make more of a celebration of the self rather than being more 'holy', it helps when you don't have a being like hylia keeping a constant watch for everyone to be held up to impossibly high standards. piercings are another part of self expression, there's no pressure to get them and there's also nothing stopping people who do want them I also think that human tattoos would be far more colourful than any hylian ones, with their's tending to be solely using black ink if there is any present. So I think any fun tattoos would surprise the chain a lot, even sky seeing as he grew up with a lot of hylian societal expectations on him, he's human yes - but he's ripped so far from his culture that I think he'd have a mourning period over what he could - should have had. Not that he doesn't like skyloft, it's just - what could have been.

as for pain tolerance! Thats another reason I came into the sky is a human headcanon, I think that hylians have a lot lower pain tolerance than humans, And if sky is human then this is actually supported by the game! almost every single link starts with three hearts - sky starts with six. it's not like any other hylians are going to be stumbling upon heart containers either I kinda like the idea that later heroes had to be given more potential heart containers to find just to be on par with sky for how much damage they CAN take let alone their pain tolerance. It's hard to make direct comparisons honestly but I think sky would be able to shake off a lot more than the others - say a broken arm perhaps. sure he'd be in pain but he can have it cast and then go around as normal till it's healed. or well, normal as you can with a broken arm yk? if say - time broke his arm it would probably mean bed rest for him until he's healed (although unlike sky he could set the bone and chug down a couple of potions to be done with it in a matter of hours)

[nicomoon69]

watching a video abt queer comic characters 😁😁 they start talking abt how tim and kon should’ve ended up together 😞😞

[buttercupshands]

Congratulations on nothing. I'm back to drawing LoV again after a bit of a break

those are mostly just a redraw practice for fun Toga is a try in "more canon way of drawing" with color practice too

I'm sorry that it's in russian because I have to have some will to localize jokes that came into my head while drawing it

it's like... a robot au??? or something, mostly just a joke "what if AFo just built Tenko and changed what he wanted"

and this is a joke about our 'favorite' 419 plot twist so it's basically just a bunch of joked about AFO failing to get any way to get control instead Tenko's head is not empty. It downloaded games, friends and stuff about being a hero but NOT as a literal hero, more on "villains need help I'm a hero then" way

and yes that text behind is "hands" written all over the place bc I wanted to add hands in handwritten form

[chronicallyonline101]

Chapter 12 of Dumb Killers should be out in the next few days! I've got two more scenes to write, and they're about 5k words each so if I'm determined enough it should be out this Saturday or Sunday! Preferably Saturday, since i'm busy Sunday, but just, be prepared!

[seventh-district]

7am, eating cold leftover teriyaki stir-fry for breakfast and crying over blorbos