#i need to munch on some concrete

[teal-tealwren]

i won't forget

[unconventional-lawnchair]

Hi! I've been thinking a lot about hufflepuff!fem!reader biting more than she could chew whilst practising new spells and opening a portal to a new dimension (think of the multiverse) and ending up in Gotham where she meets Nightwing during one of his patrols, where he was helping out the rest of the Batfamily pin point the spot where an anomaly created by her was detected...thanks! xx

Falling First

AN: I am SO sorry, I realised how long it was this will likely be a two parter- but OMG I dropped everything this idea was too cute

WC: 6077

CW: Use of {Y/N}, vivid panic attack, blood, rat mishandling

“Are you going to keep reading that dumb book?” Damien’s judgmental voice called over to Nightwing from the other side of the rooftop. He was practicing his form, swinging around Nightwing’s staff as if it was one of his swords.

Dick was leaning against the concrete wall, holding a soda and reading a book propped on his lap. The title? Hogwarts: A History.

“Dumb book?” Dick scoffed playfully, leaning further back. "It's fascinating!" He raved, not taking his eyes off the pages. "Besides, who doesn't want to read about wizarding worlds and magical creatures? The.. the interesting ways in which students have harmed themselves. I wonder if there is another volume..” He began to mumble.

Damien rolled his eyes, still twirling the staff with practiced ease. "We deal with real villains and real threats every day. I don't see the point in wasting time on make-believe. And did father even say you could take that here? It's evidence.”

Dick glanced up from his book, a smirk playing on his lips. "You know, some day, you'll learn to relax. It's just a light read. Helps keep the mind sharp and the imagination alive."

With a final, flashy spin of the staff, Damien stopped and faced Nightwing, raising an eyebrow. "Imagination? You sound like Grayson. Oh wait, you are Grayson.”

Dick chuckled, shaking his head. "And you, my dear Damien, sound like a mini Bruce with a side of extra grumpiness."

Damien huffed, crossing his arms over his chest. "I just don't see the point."

"Well, in fairness, you do need a signal. Has it happened yet?” Oracle’s voice called out from their earpiece. Dick leaned back and pressed two fingers to his ear. “Not yet, it's still stable.”

Damien huffed and walked over, sitting down on the concrete wall and snatching the bag of open puffs. “We'll be here all night. What's the point?”

“To find more anomalies, Robin.” Barbara sighed and leaned back in her seat, spinning a bit from the large computer screen and sliding over towards a glass display, showing off several random items that had been appearing on the roof top for months now.

Scrolls, weathered and tampered. Random blue crystals, which Dick’s newest favorite book called ‘moonstones,’ quills, and even what seemed to be a wand carved from hazel wood. All of which had appeared on that rooftop with a spark of terrifying energy.

"Right, anomalies.” Dick smirked, sitting up a bit straighter and closing his book. "We can't have mysterious artifacts just popping up all over Gotham. That would be bad for business."

Damien gave a reluctant nod, munching on the puffs he had taken from Dick’s bag. "Still, I don’t see how reading that book helps us."

"Knowledge is power, Damien." Dick cheeked, taking a sip of his soda. "Even if it's from a 'dumb book'. Besides, it might give us some insight into what we're dealing with. These items don’t exactly scream ‘normal’."

Barbara’s voice crackled over the earpiece again. "He's right, Damien. Understanding the lore and history behind these artifacts could be crucial. It might help us figure out where they're coming from and possibly even how they are getting here.”

“Yeah yeah..” He mumbled.

“Besides,” Dick smirked. “Who's to say we can't have a little fun on the-”

Before he could continue, lifting the book, it began to spark and flicker in his hands. As if its very file was corrupted but somehow managed to manifest physical energy. The book glowed with an eerie yellow and pink light, and the pages began to flip rapidly on their own.

"Uh, guys?" Dick called out, his playful demeanor shifting to one of concern. "I think we might have another anomaly on our hands."

Damien immediately leaped up and snapped his attention around them, pulling his katana from his sheath and getting ready.

Dick got up next, taking his staff and looking around cautiously.

“We are getting it here too!” Barbara ’s voice was hardly audible, the lights around the city began to flicker and wave, as if he was staring at a terrible simulation on the break on destruction.

Barbara stood watching the other artifacts from the batcave, seeing them flicker and spark with life as they began to glitch from place to place.

Suddenly, there was a loud crackle from above Dick and Damien, and then a loud squeak.

“Shit.” Dick hissed and shot him, using his staff to propel him and catch whatever was falling before it hit the ground.

He found in his hand, a fat brown and white rat.

Just like that, the glitching stopped. The lights around them returned to normal, and they were left with a new friend.

Dick got to his feet, holding the rat much like you would a can of soda. Staring at it curiously as it squeaked and wiggled about in distress.

"Well, this is new," Dick remarked, raising an eyebrow at the squirming rodent. "Meet our latest anomaly." He showed Damien the squirming thing.

Damien sheathed his katana, looking unimpressed. "A rat? Seriously? This is what all that chaos was about?" He wandered over and held his hand out for it, Dick smirked and pushed his head away, stepping back with a chuckle as Damien tried to steal the rodent from him.

Barbara's voice came through the earpiece, much clearer now. "Dick, Damien, are you both okay? The readings just spiked and then dropped off the charts."

"Yeah, we're fine," Dick snickered and held the rat higher, still holding Damien off. "But it looks like our anomaly this time is a... rat."

“You're not holding it properly!” Damien hissed, muffled against Dick’s palm as he tried to get to the distressed animal.

"A rat?" Barbara repeated, puzzled. "That's odd. Any idea if it has any special properties?"

"Well, it did appear out of thin air." Dick noted playfully before he looked up at it, holding it flat on its stomach now. “Speak!”

It only seemed to huff in response and Dick shrugged. “Looks like a common city rat.”

“That's not a city rat!” Damien snapped. “Look at its patterns! It's domestic.”

“A pet rat?” Barbara muttered before she crossed her arms, confused. “So we started with random items and now a living creature?”

“Sounds like experiment progression to me.” Dick cooed at the rat before he lowered his arms. “Ima call him Mr. Squeakerson.”

Before he could stop him, Damien finally stole the rat from him, shielding the creature against his chest. "He's not a toy, Grayson," Damien snapped, glaring at Dick. "This is serious."

"Alright, alright," Dick relented, raising his hands in mock surrender. "Just trying to lighten the mood."

Barbara's voice came through the earpiece again. "Damien's right. If this rat is part of the anomalies, it could be important. We need to figure out where it came from and why it's here."

Damien nodded, cradling the rat gently, running two fingers down its back. "I'll take him back to the Batcave and run some tests. Maybe there's something special about this rat that we haven't identified yet."

"Good idea.” Dick agreed, his expression turning serious. "I'll keep an eye out for any more anomalies up here."

Barbara hummed. "I'll continue monitoring the readings. If anything happens, ring me, yeah?”

“Yeah.” Both Dick and Damien called into their ear pieces.

~~~

“No!” You sobbed out as the portal disappeared, staring at the middle of the shrieking shack in distress.

“We can always try again next full moon.” Luna Lovegood’s airy voice called over to you. You gave another groan, walking over to one of the discarded desks and sitting down.

“It's not working! I just don't get it.” You huffed, looking over the tomes and scrolls you both had splayed out on the floor and tables, ones you had pinned and scraped together, littered with muggle sticky notes and ink that traveled between the pages as if to etch out a map.

Tomes of old magic with modern magic, the deep theory of apparition. And even some old muggle studies of what they would call inter dimensional travel. You began to scatter over the pages, stepping over the moonstones you had gathered, the fine line of black sand that had now crystallized with the energy of the portal, making it almost glass.

“What a waste of Diricawl feathers.” You whined and let your head hit the desk, Luna reaching over to rub your head to try and comfort you.

It had been months, months of you trying to create a portable form of Floo Flames, something safer than apparition and more accessible to the masses. You were turning 19 soon, you were so close to having to leave Hogwarts behind, and thus all the free materials needed to continue your experiments.

Luna continued to pat your head gently, her presence a small comfort to fight off your frustration. "You got closer this time." She breathed.

You sighed deeply, lifting your head just enough to glance at the scattered notes and artifacts. Lazily lifting your hand to grab one of your quills. "I know, Luna. It's just... I was so sure this time. We've been working on this for months, and it feels like we're no closer than when we started."

Luna gave you a dreamy smile. "Progress isn't always visible. Sometimes, it's in the small things. Like today, we didn't lose anything to the portal.”

You slowly smiled, lifting your head. “I guess so.” You mumbled. “And it was bigger this time. I could almost put my hand through.”

“That's the spirit.” Luna hummed and stood up, waving her wand as she began to set the items to collect themselves from the floor. You pouted a bit and Luna turned to smile at you.

“Still miss your wand?”

“Deeply.” You huffed and sat up, fixing your tie. “And that history of Hogwarts book is going to set me back a few galleons to replace.”

Luna tilted her head, her eyes twinkling with curiosity. "Oh, I did forgot to mention. My father still has his old copy. He said he'd love to have you for tea, lend it to you. I can ask him if this coming holiday works."

You smiled at her, feeling your heart throb at her thoughtfulness. How could anyone hate this girl? "Thanks, Luna. You're always so helpful. I just hope we can figure this out before I have to leave Hogwarts."

Luna nodded, her brows furrowing. "We'll get there."

Just as she finished speaking, a soft glow appeared on the desk beside you. A small, shimmering portal flickered into existence for a brief moment before winking out. Both of you stared at the spot in surprise.

"Did you see that?" You whispered, as if speaking too loud would wake you up from a dream, your smile growing tenfold as Luna’s brows only furrowed deeper.

“It materialized! On its own!” You lit up and quickly got to your feet, scrambling for your journal.

“Oh that can't be good.” She muttered.

You paused, looking back at her with confusion. "What do you mean, can't be good? This is a breakthrough!"

Luna's expression remained serious, her eyes scanning the spot where the portal had flickered. "If it materialized on its own, it means the magic is becoming unstable. It might be reacting to something we don't understand yet."

Your excitement dimmed slightly as you considered her words. "Luna, it's a marvel!” You insisted. Luna hesitated, seeing her mother’s fire in your eyes. She took a steady breath and frowned a bit, turning into a pout, as you slowly relaxed your shoulders.

“It's a breakthrough.” You insisted. “And it happened after 3am, is that it? Did we have the witching hour wrong?”

As you began to scatter around the room, Luna watched with a worried look, before she could speak up about her concerns, you reached out your hand to your table. “Templeton! Quill!” You called out. But when the quill didn't hit your palm, you looked around confused. Where had your rat gone?

There was a moment of pause before you looked back at Luna. “Looloo? Where did Templeton go?”

Luna looked around the room before she slowly eyed the circle in the middle of the room. You felt your heart drop.

~~~

The majority of the day you had been moping. You missed your rat.

It was all you could think of, through every class, you couldn't shake the worry gnawing at the back of your mind. You had grown quite attached to Templeton, and the thought of him being lost somewhere unknown was unbearable. Was he alive? Was he eating? Was what he was eating safe? Was he safe?

Luna tried to cheer you up during lunch, but even her whimsical stories and odd facts couldn't lift your spirits. "We'll find him.” She tried to reassure you. "Maybe he's on an adventure of his own."

"An adventure?" You muttered, poking at your food. You had already started pushing the peas out of your food for Templeton. "I just hope he's safe."

As the day went on, you found yourself increasingly anxious. What if the portal had sent Templeton somewhere you couldn't reach? What if he was scared and alone? Cold and wet? What if he was missing you as much as you were missing him? The questions swirled in your mind, making it hard to focus on anything else.

---

Back in Gotham, Damien was busy running tests on the rat in the Batcave. He had set up a small, comfortable enclosure for the creature, complete with food and water. As the automated scanners did their work, Damien couldn't help but notice how the rat seemed oddly calm, almost as if it was used with all the testing.

"Any luck?" Dick asked, strolling into the lab area with a curious look. He was out of his costume, just in sweats and a black shirt.

"Nothing yet.” Damien mumbled, keeping his eyes on the monitors. "But there's definitely something different about this rat. It's too comfortable around all this testing. And his heart is on the wrong side.”

Dick nodded, looking at the rat with interest. "Any signs of where it might have come from?"

Damien shook his head, glancing at the rat. "Not yet. But the fact that its heart is on the wrong side suggests it might not be from around here. It's an anomaly in itself."

Dick frowned, leaning in closer to the rat. "So, it's not just any rat. That makes things more interesting. We need to figure out where it came from and what it means."

As the rat continued to explore its new enclosure, Damien's eyes narrowed. "... it's really friendly. Doesn't seem to like it kibble, keeps trying to eat what Alfred brings me."

Dick nodded. "I've been cross-referencing the data from the anomalies with our existing records over the years- wait, have you been letting it out of its cage?”

Damien flustered, stammering for a moment. “It's a small enclosure!”

Dick chuckled, shaking his head at Damien's defensiveness. "Seems like Mr. Squeakerson is already growing on you. What? Don't have enough strays?"

Damien scowled, but there was a hint of a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.

"Don't get too attached. We still need to figure out where he came from and how he got here." Barbara's voice came from behind them. She pushed herself down the strip walk way in her wheelchair, getting back to her monitors with a yawn. Looking over to the cage and smiling as the rat seemed to get excited at her return. “He's smart. Very friendly.”

"Yeah, a bit too friendly for a rat that just appeared out of nowhere." Dick noted, watching the rat scurry around its enclosure with curiosity. "What do you think, Babs? Any theories?"

Barbara adjusted her glasses and leaned closer to the monitors, tapping a few keys to bring up the data. "It's definitely unusual. The heart on the wrong side, the comfort around humans, and now it's showing signs of higher intelligence. This isn't just any ordinary rat. That has only been seen once before.”

“... you mean when Lex Luther-”

“Exactly.” Barbarainterrupted and gestured to the display. “A wand. Stones, papers and tomes, even quills? All of them tie back to your book.”

Dick furrowed his brow at her and she then gestured to the rat. “What was it your book said? You could bring pets?”

“A rat, an owl, or a frog.” Dick mumbled before Damien seemed to catch one.

“Are they…”

“From another universe.” Dick concluded with a slack jaw.

“One where their organs mirror our own.”

Damien's eyes widened with realization. "So, you're telling me this rat might actually be from a parallel universe? One where magic is that common?"

Barbara nodded, her expression serious. "It's starting to look that way. The items we've found, the anomalies- they might all be connected to this other world. And if this rat is any indication, living creatures can cross over as well."

Dick looked thoughtfully at the rat, now affectionately named Mr. Squeakerson. "If that's true, then we need to figure out how these portals are opening and why. There might be more at stake here than just a few random artifacts."

Damien nodded and Barbara sighed.

“I think we need to call in the others. Tell Bruce what we know.” Barbara mused and gestured to the rat.

Dick walked over to the cage and opened it, a bit surprised when the rat ran up his arm and straight to his shoulder. Like it knew exactly what he wanted.

“Huh.”

“I'll call the others.” Damian nodded, turning before Barbara called over. “Don't forget Jason!”

She could hear his groan echo off the walls.

~~~

You were stressed, you were tired. You hadn't slept since Templeton fell through the portal. You went straight back to the shack after curfew, setting everything up once more.

Luna, ever the supportive friend, had accompanied you despite the late hour. She watched quietly as you frantically arranged the moonstones and black sand, her expression a mix of concern and curiosity.

"You need to rest.” She said softly, placing a gentle hand on your shoulder. "You'll think more clearly after some sleep."

You shook your head, determined. "I can't rest, Luna. Templeton is out there somewhere, and I need to find him. What if he's in danger?"

Luna sighed but didn't argue further. Instead, she waved her wand, casting a charm that made the various components float into place more efficiently. "At least let me help you. Two minds are better than one."

As you both worked, the night crept into day. Luna pushed more firm this time, asking you to at least rest before you attempt anything.

You agreed to a nap, though reluctantly, knowing that your exhaustion could lead to mistakes. Luna conjured a small, comfortable cot in the corner of the shack, and you lay down with a sigh, the weight of your worry making it hard to fully relax.

Luna sat beside you, humming a soft, soothing tune. "Just a quick nap, and then we can get back to work. Templeton will be alright. I have a feeling about it."

You nodded, your eyes drifting shut as Luna's gentle voice lulled you.

As you drifted into a fitful sleep, Luna kept watch, her wand ready and her eyes scanning the room for any signs of magical disturbances. She hoped that a brief rest would replenish your energy and clear your mind for the tasks ahead.

---

Back in Gotham, the Batcave was bustling with activity. Bruce Wayne, Jason Todd, and Tim Drake had joined the investigation, each bringing their unique skills to the table. And, unfortunately, their unique attitudes as well.

"So, this rat just appeared out of nowhere?" Bruce questioned, his voice calm but with an edge of curiosity.

"Exactly," Damien replied, holding the rat gently. "And he’s not just any rat. His heart is on the wrong side, and he shows signs of higher intelligence. We believe he might be from a parallel universe."

Bruce raised an eyebrow, glancing at Barbara and Dick. "Any theories on how these portals are opening?"

Barbara nodded, pulling up a holographic display and gesturing out to each spike of energy. “We think it's intentional. Like they are testing portals.”

"Testing portals?" Bruce echoed, narrowing his eyes at the display. "That would explain the increasing frequency and the variety of objects appearing. But why?"

"Could be a number of reasons." Tim suggested, stepping forward with a thoughtful expression. "They might be trying to establish stable connections between universes, or perhaps they're searching for something specific. Like a person?”

Jason, leaning casually against a console, chimed in with a smirk. "Or someone pissed off the wrong wizard and now we're dealing with magical fallout."

Damien shot Jason a glare but didn't respond. Instead, he turned back to Bruce. “Whatever it is, we think it's on purpose.”

Bruce nodded thoughtfully, absorbing the information. "We'll need to be prepared for anything. If someone- or something- is intentionally testing these portals, it could be a prelude to something much larger."

Dick looked at Mr. Squeakerson, who was now comfortably perched on his shoulder. "And this little guy might be our best clue to figuring out what’s going on. We need to keep him safe and see what we can learn from him."

Barbara interjected, "I'll continue monitoring the energy spikes and anomalies. We need to pinpoint the exact locations and timings of these events. Maybe we can predict when the next one will happen. There may even be more than one at a time.”

Tim hummed and nodded. "I'll look into the possibility of any magical artifacts or entities that could be responsible for the portals. There might be something in our archives that matches the energy signatures we're seeing."

Jason shrugged, pushing off the console. "Guess I'll be on anomaly patrol then. Wouldn't want anything else to just drop out of the sky unannounced."

Bruce nodded in agreement. "Good. We need to cover all the ground we can. Dick-”

“I'll patrol with Damien.” He interrupted and Bruce narrowed his eyes for only a moment before he nodded. “Everyone's dismissed.”

~~~

You woke up to flashing lights around you. As you opened your eyes, you were greeted with a bright yellow light, more flashing, then, suddenly, you felt like you were falling.

There was a sharp surge of pain that rocked you when your back hit the rooftop. You gasped, the wind knocked out of you as you struggled to regain your bearings. Blinking against the harsh lights and trying to make sense of your surroundings, you slowly sat up, wincing at the ache in your back. The smell of the city- smoke, asphalt, and something distinctly metallic; all hit your nose at once.

You raised your hand as you felt something warm drip from your nose, only to feel another painful shock run through you. You gave a wail of pain as your body began to glitch, as if you were some kind of faulty Sunday cartoon.

It was unbearable, and you let out a throat tearing sob as the pain rocked through you. No one was around, no one near you anyway, and the glitching seemed to get worse. The lights of the city seemed to flicker in response to your pain, and after what felt like hours, you were able to lift yourself.

Your face was covered in blood, your uniform stained with the red fluid, and your head was light.

As your blurry eyes began to focus, you took in the city around you. It was nothing like you had ever seen before; the buildings were towering structures of steel and glass, illuminated by a myriad of neon lights and billboards- some brighter than the sun itself. The noise of the city was a constant hum, a combination of distant traffic, sirens, and the occasional shout from the streets below.

You staggered to your feet, clutching your head as another wave of dizziness hit you. "Where... am I?" you whispered to yourself, trying to make sense of the alien environment.

Were you in a muggle city? Where were your things? Where was Templeton?

Your breathing grew quicker as you realized, not only did you have no clue if you popped out where everything else had but that portal that brought you here was clearly unstable. You didn't summon it, nor did you think Luna did.

She was right, she always was.

You ran your fingers through your hair with a choked sob. Growing more and more frustrated with your own stupidity- you didn't have a wand, you hardly knew any nonverbal spells, you were in the middle of nowhere, and the backdrop of screaming and rowdy life of the city didn't bring any comfort.

Your breath started coming in short, rapid gasps, each one feeling more shallow than the last. Trying to calm your sobs, only worsening it with hiccups. Your heart pounded in your chest, a wild, erratic beat that echoed in your ears. The world around you seemed to blur, the neon lights and towering buildings warping and bending in your vision.

"I... I can't... breathe.” You choked out, your voice barely a whisper. Your hands trembled uncontrollably as you clutched at your chest, trying to will your lungs to take in air. Each inhale felt like you were trying to breathe through a straw, thin and insufficient.

You stumbled, falling back down to your knees and curling up against the concrete wall. Clenching your robe as the horrible and painful glitches returned, the lights and sounds of the city mocking you as the power flickered around with you.

Your mind raced with a thousand thoughts at once, each one more frantic than the last. Where am I? How did I get here? What if I can't get back? What if Templeton is gone forever? The questions swirled and collided, creating a cacophony of panic that drowned out any attempt at rational thought.

The ground seemed to tilt beneath you, making it difficult to keep your balance. You reached out, grasping at nothing, desperate for something solid to hold onto.

Your vision started to narrow, darkening at the edges as the pain rattled you into nothing but a trembling lump.

As your vision continued to darken and your breaths came in ragged gasps, you heard a voice, distant at first but gradually becoming clearer.

"Hey, are you okay?" The voice was filled with concern, cutting through the chaos in your mind. You tried to focus on it, using it as an anchor to the present.

A figure knelt down beside you, you couldn't make him out but he felt safe. He gently placed a hand on your shoulder. "Just breathe, okay? In and out, nice and slow." The voice was calm and steady, a stark contrast to the panic you felt inside. You tried to will away the tears that prickled your eyes.

You tried to follow the instructions, but your body was still wracked with tremors and your mind was a whirlwind of fear. The figure gently rubbed your back, trying to soothe you.

"It's okay, you're safe now.” His voice reminded you of something. Something soft, something gentle.

As you focused on the voice, you felt a small sense of calm start to push through the overwhelming panic. It was like a lifeline, something to hold onto in the midst of the storm inside your mind.

"That's it, just breathe.” The voice continued, steady and reassuring. "You're going to be okay. I'm right here with you."

You took a shaky breath, trying to match the rhythm the voice was setting. In and out, in and out. Slowly, very slowly, the world around you started to come back into focus. The neon lights were still bright, the city noise still loud, but they felt a little less overwhelming with each breath you managed to take.

As your vision cleared, you saw the face of the figure kneeling beside you. It was a large man. Well, certainly larger than you. He was in a blue and black uniform of sorts, and a symbol on his chest you couldn't make out with your hands in the way. You didn't realize that in your panic to find anything solid, you had reached out and grabbed him. Not that he seemed to mind, looking at you from behind his domino mask with such gentleness.

"Hey.” He said softly, his covered eyes tracing your face. He had such a sweet smile. "You're okay. I'm Nightwing, and you're safe now."

You nodded weakly, now gripping his arm for support. The tremors in your body were starting to subside, your breaths becoming steadier. Nightwing's presence was grounding, his calm helping to pull you out of the spiral of panic with so much ease you wondered if he had done it before.

"Can you tell me your name?" He prodded gently, not wanting to overwhelm you.

You swallowed hard, trying to find your voice, wincing as you tasted that copper flavor, your nose was still bleeding. "{Y/N}.” You managed to say, your voice barely above a whisper. "My name is {Y/N}."

Nightwing gave you a reassuring smile. "It's nice to meet you, {Y/N}. Pretty name for a pretty girl. Can you tell me what happened? How you got here?"

You took another deep breath, trying to gather your thoughts. "I... I don't know. There was a portal, and then I was here. I don't know where here is."

Nightwing nodded, his expression serious but understanding, his smile slowly falling. In your sensitive state, you felt your heart clench as you clearly disappointed this definite guardian. "You're in Gotham City. We'll figure out the rest. Can you stand?”

“I-I don't know.” You whispered, your voice shaking and he nodded.

“That's alright, you're alright. Can I touch you?”

“Seems only fair.” You whispered and began to move your hands from his arms.

Nightwing chuckled softly at your remark, glad to see a bit of humor returning to your voice. "Alright, I'm going to help you up. Nice and easy."

He gently placed one arm around your back and another under your knees, lifting you with surprising ease. You felt a bit of a jolt, but his steady confidence helped keep you grounded. As he stood up with you in his arms, you leaned against him, feeling an odd sense of safety despite the chaos around you.

As he carefully carried you towards the edge of the rooftop, you noticed another figure standing there, watching with a mix of curiosity and concern. It was Damien, still holding the staff, his eyes narrowing as he took in the scene.

"Another anomaly?" Damien asked, his tone skeptical.

Nightwing nodded, carefully setting you down on a nearby crate, making sure you were steady before letting go. "Looks like it. This is {Y/N}. She came through a portal, just like the other items."

Damien approached, his expression softening slightly as he looked at you. "Are you alright?" He asked, his voice carrying a hint of genuine concern despite his usual demeanor. You didn't notice Nightwing raising his eyebrows in surprise.

You nodded, still feeling a bit uneasy. Nightwing pulled out a cloth and held it out to you.

Raising it to your nose you started to stop the bleeding, watching as he put two fingers to his ear. “Oracle, we found something. Send a car.”

“Car?” You whispered and Damien narrowed his eyes at you.

“You must of hit your head pretty hard, huh?” He prodded and you turned to him with furrowed brows.

“Cars? Like the muggle death traps?” You pushed and the younger boy gave you the same confused look you were sending him.

“Muggles? The hell are muggles?” He pushed and your stomach sank.

Nightwing and Damien exchanged a glance, both clearly puzzled by your words. Nightwing crouched down to your level, his expression softening even more as he tried to understand.

"Muggles?" Nightwing asked gently. "You mean non-magical people, right? Like in the book I was reading?"

You nodded slowly, feeling a bit relieved that at least one of them seemed to understand. Then, your jaw dropped. “You read my book?” You pushed and he slowly nodded.

“I guess that was yours? You have a lot of explaining to do.” He slowly smirked at you and you couldn't help how your stomach fluttered at his look.

“Explaining?” You whispered.

“Those portals have been opening up everywhere. It's messing with our entire power grid.”

“What's a power grid?” You pushed again and his jaw clenched a bit.

Damien gave a huff. “This will be a fun one to explain.”

The second the car pulled up you fell quiet. Looking down the several story drop. You looked between the two boys curiously before Dick smiled at you and easily wrapped his arm around your back. “Go ahead and wrap your arms around me, yeah?”

You gave a small yelp at the sudden contact, making him chuckle, which made you pout, furrowing your brow at him. Still, you listened, and wrapped your arms around his neck. Pulling closer to him much like a cat would. He sent Damien a wink and the young boy groaned, rolling his eyes.

You peaked just past Dick’s shoulder and watched as he pulled out a bat shaped trinket, only for him to shoot it out and latch onto the side of the building. “Tighten that grip, I won't choke.”

“Keep teasing me and I'll actually do it.” You huffed before you gave a small gasp at you own tone, Dick just barked out a laugh in absolute delight at your snark.

Then he jumped.

And you prayed to Merlin for a proper savior.

You watched as the hook began to slow your fall, staring curiously around you with an awe strucken face. Nightwing helped you down again and let you in, instructing the younger boy to go home on foot, it seems there were only two seats.

The ride there was filled with mindless chatter. It was mostly one sided, as Nightwing spoke to a small device in his ear.

You sat in the car, your mind racing to catch up with everything that had happened. The city outside the window was a blur of lights and movement, a stark contrast to the more familiar and magical world you had come from. Nightwing's calm voice was a soothing background as he communicated with his team.

"Yeah, we're on our way to the Batcave." Nightwing said into his earpiece. "We have a guest who might be able to help us with the anomalies. We'll need everyone there."

You glanced at him, your curiosity piqued. You kept your voice low so as to not interrupt what was happening. "Batcave? Is that like your headquarters?"

Nightwing nodded, giving you a reassuring smile. "Clever girl. Yeah, go ahead and lean back, we don't know what happened to you.”

You nodded and compiled easily. You found yourself wondering how easy you would be to kidnap, just send you to a foreign place and send in a hot guy who called you pet names and you were done for.

Nightwing continued his conversation through the earpiece, his tone professional yet reassuring. "Oracle, make sure the med bay is ready. We need to check for any injuries or anomalies. And get Bats and the others up to speed."

You felt yourself slowly slipping, the exhaustion form it all catching up with you. As the car sped through the city streets, the combination of Nightwing's soothing voice and the gentle hum of the engine began to lull you into a sense of calm. The adrenaline from your earlier panic attack was wearing off, leaving you feeling drained and exhausted.

"Just hang in there a little longer." Nightwing pushed gently, noticing your drooping eyelids. "We'll be at the Batcave soon, and then we can get you checked out and figure out how to help you."

You nodded weakly, feeling comforted by his presence. The car finally came to a long tunnel, one you couldn't see a thing in. Finally, a light broke through the darkness showing a massive cave. Nightwing helped you out of the vehicle, his grip was firm and the last thing you remembered was seeing the symbol on his chest, much more clearly.

It was a bat- of course it was.

[kamisama1kiss]

HIIIII THE MOVIE WAS SO GOOD AND I SAW YOU WERE TAKING REQUESTS AND OMG OMG COULD YOU DO A NEKOMA MANAGER x KENMA PRETTY PLEASE ITS OKAY IF NOT BUT ANYWAYS THE MOVIE HAS ME AUGH!! Ah! preferably the prompt i think would be fun is either Kenma and Y/N going to the conbini and/or arcade in the middle of the night after the loss (they sneak out of the hotel) or Arcade/GameStop Worker!Reader x Regular!Kenma. This is my first time making a request so HOPEFULLY I did this right!!

The movie is so good, like wow. I actually did some small researching for snacks for a konbini 😝🫶 You did great, BTW! Loved the cute idea!! ♡

Song of choice: Sweet by Cigarette After Sex

!⚠️Spoilers from The Dumster Battle will be mentioned shortly⚠️!

~~~

Kenma Kozume { Midnight Snacks }

"Not of your brightest moments {Name}" Kenma spoke with the volleyball manager, walking next to him along the streets of Japan for a breather. "Perhaps not, but you didn't say no."

They smiled at him, finding his constant small frown from having to leave the comfort of sleeping to go out, alongside his switch being placed into their pocket for no purpose of being used.

"It has been a long enough day as is." not adding much of an answer while he was still tired from the match with Karasuno. Shrugging a shoulder at what he had side, "This just a short trip to clear our minds, besides its good for you to go outside some more."

They spoke gently, placing a light hand on his shoulder. The walking stops in a halt. "I know this was hard on you after how it ended, with the ball falling out of your hand at the end."

Almost as he held his breath when it was mentioned, his shoulder stiffened as well, feeling guilt from earlier. Nonetheless, he had experienced a new feeling. "You had fun playing volleyball today, I saw it. We all saw it." A soft patting motion with the hand resting on his shoulder, further making their way down the street lit path.

Rounding the corner in silence, the loudest sounds were easily picked up by the sounds of shoes hitting the concrete. It was maybe quiet but not uncomfortable. Simply, a warm aura wrapped the duo.

It could be seen as Kenma eyed them. Hesitation was shown in his movements, with enough curridge his hand finally latched on to their hand. It was pinkey linked, a small form of affection that he rearly initiated himself.

Hearts beating as one, with the stars dancing along the dark canvas up above. Comfort was broken at some point. "We could head to the konbini, up ahead." They suggested in a soft whisper, pointing briefly with their head. "A night snack could be nice."

The night felt as a warm breeze when they now had a destination to make. He was quiet, but not many words needed to be exchanged between the two. Lazily smiling as his eyes would softly admire how the moonshine hit their face, never having gotten the grasp of how they even ended up together.

With a blink of en eye now standing in front, one of the few ials of snacks, food, and simple groceries along such. "Hm, I feel for a strawberry sando. You?" They asked him while they reached for the strawberry snack.

His cat-like gaze roamed before reaching his wish. "A apple pie flavoured Umaibo." Reaching for one alongside it being not too far from where they stood.

"I'll pay." They said even before he could even utter another word. "Are you sure? I could pay for my own just fine." Raising a light brow but gives them the snack if choice anyhow.

"I insist, take it as a treat. You paid for the last one." They grinned at him as they now spinned on the heel to go upfront, lightly tugging him after with the pinkey still being held.

With yet another flash of a blink, they sat outside of the konbini, each munching on their respected snacks. "You know, this evening was pleasant, actually." He mumbled after a second bite, looking over at them only to already be greeted by a pleased and eased smile.

"I am glad to hear so." They lightly spoke, the moon shunned yet again on the two, giving them a soft glow. Going from linked pinkey to hands completely intertwined as time went on.

~~~

Hope you all enjoyed this little Kenma Kozume snippet!♡

[fashionteahouse]

Love you !!!! A Paul x reader when Paul imprinted on older lady who is also his neighbor. How does he get her attention

<33 u more ! hope you enjoy :)

door - paul x reader

Sitting on the window sill, things didn’t go unnoticed. At least for him. He sat as he watched the moving truck that was in front of the house that he knew was empty for some time.

He watched the figure talk on a phone as movers brought items and boxes into the place the woman could call home.

He watched as you looked around your new neighborhood. Your eyes lock with his for a moment before you turn to follow the movers into your new home.

The following day, the morning was a slight drizzle. Paul slowly walked out of his home to get ready for patrol.

The clack of high heels hitting the concrete made his eyes snap up as he watched the woman, dressed in sophistication, walk toward her car. Your leg muscles stuck out as each step was taken.

The unlocking noise is followed as you then hurried into your car, not wanting to get droplet of water on yourself.

Paul thought it was a nice car. He did his rounds of patrolling. However, he kept you in mind when he pulled his shorts on.

He definitely knew you were someone who had their stuff together. The childish games that he had to deal with from girls were uninteresting to him.

Pushing the door open to Emily’s, she pulls out a fresh hot baked treats out of the oven. An idea pops into Paul’s smart brain.

“Emily, you mind if I borrow your glass dish?” he asks after he cleaned the entire kitchen for her. Crumbs were everywhere as the other guys munched on what Emily baked.

He raised a small glass dish.

“Sure. But, what are you using it for?” she asks as she knew Paul didn’t do alot of cooking, he mostly came over to eat.

“I want to give someone something.” he says as he eyed the leftover treats.

Emily forms a crinkle in her eye as she helped him fill it up.

“It’s for my neighbor.” Paul stated as he had the filled glass dish in his hand as he had the other hand on her front door.

“I see.” Emily says with a small smile and then goes on to say, “I better see that dish again.”

Paul smiles gratefully but says, “Don’t worry. I’ll bring it back.”

Paul sat in his usual spot on the window sill as he saw your car slowly park into your driveway.

Getting out, you looked tired and had a long exhausting day. Finally glad to be home, you made your way inside.

Paul then took it as his chance to knock on your door. You groan from your spot on the couch. You finally got comfortable.

Opening the door, expecting it to be a salesperson, you froze as you saw a handsome young face staring back you. Your eyes then zeroed in on the glass dish that was in his large hand.

“I live across the street.” He says and you smile as you seen him before.

“Oh that’s right. How are you doing?” you ask politely.

“I’m good. I’m Paul.” he says and you introduce yourself back and suddenly your cradling the dish that he brought to you. You eye at it as it looks delicious.

“You made these?” you ask impressed.

A hand goes behind his neck as he scratched a bit, “A friend of mine did. I’m not a pro at baking just yet.” he admits and you laugh, “I love baking. It’s not hard once you get the hand of it. Thank you.” you say.

“So, you gonna teach me?” he asks and you look down at the dish and back up to him as a hot blush burns across your face.

“Um..Sure.” you say nervously.

“Just knock on my door when you need to get me.” he says.

You watched him the entire way. You watch the muscles on his body stick out as he moves his body towards his home, right across the street from yours. You watch the smirk form on his face as he sees that you’re still standing there watching him close his front door behind him.

[dangerousduckcloud]

Flowerbeds make up for a nice eternal rest

Read it also on AO3

“It’s about the gun.” “You got it working?” Dick’s voice wasn’t clear, munching on something crunchy and loud. “I need to do several tests first, but… Yeah, I think so.”

Chapter 13 < > Chapter 15

Masterlist

taglist: @kurai-hono-blog @katrina0-0 @readingfictionnothingelse @lookingforsyd @jackrabbitem @lvlythea @qmabailor @whore-of-many-hot-men @blackthorngirl

If anyone else would like to be added to the taglist, let me know!

Taking a deep breath, you calmed your racing heart, a feeble attempt to rid of the shaking in your hands, peering at your unsuspecting prey, oblivious to the hell that would rain down upon him any second now.

Tim had helped you set up everything in place, at the moment waiting for him to be done on his side. “Ready?” He whispered. Adrenaline pumping your veins, you nodded, a brief glance at him revealed he was already in place, his body and face impassive, no emotion reflected in them.

Through the lens, you searched for your enemy once more. You felt the need to lay your elbows on the handrail for extra support despite that the stabilizer Tim had given you was enough to balance everything.

He’d move since the last time you locked him in your sight, moving slightly to the left to get your mark into focus, fiddling with the camera on his hands, looking through the photos that were undoubtedly of you.

“On the count of three. Three, two, one… Now!”

The once tidy up man, with a clean white shirt had soon been overwhelmed by splashes of (barely) red, and (mostly) yellow paint covering each centimeter of his body. As expected, Tim’s shots landed on the paparazzi 99% of the time, and while you’d some luck to hit him on the left shoulder and his back, most of your shots ended on the trees and the driveway around.

Cackling like mad, both you and Tim didn’t relent, your anger subsiding with every jump from side to side the man was doing in his attempt to avoid the paint pellets, succeeding the minute he found his car keys —a pristine, beautiful car now your new motivation, as it was an easier target.

Even though it was short-lived, this is probably the most fun you had in a long while.

The moment you couldn’t see the car anymore, you and Tim shared a high-five. “Excuse me.” A cold, gravelly voice behind you chilled every bone in your body, rooted in its place and too afraid to make a movement and bring down Alfred’s ire upon yourself. “Just what do you think you’re doing?”

“It was Tim’s idea!” You blurted out, pointing at him while he looked at you, mouth agape, surprised and rightly betrayed. 

“I don’t care whose idea it was. This is an idiotic, foolish thing you’ve both done. You will clean up the driveway—”

“Jane’s the one that made the whole mess by failing, why should I clean?”

“Oh yeah, I’m sorry, I forgot we all had to be shooting prodigies.”

“You had a stabilizer! And you still failed!”

“Children!” You’d never heard Alfred raise his voice quite like now, his left eye twitching, and the crease between his brows deepening. “I frankly don’t care who failed and who didn’t, you should know better.”

Your cheeks had gotten so red you could fry an egg on them. You’d come to respect Alfred after all your time here, the shame consuming you at seeing him so disappointed in you.

“Yes, Alfred.” Both you and Tim mumbled. Theres was no point in arguing further with him. No one could ever win against him.

The man placed a hand in front of him, wordlessly ordering to hand over the paint guns, complying without a word. “There are buckets and rags in the utility closet in the lower floor. I’d advise you to start now if you do not wish to miss lunch.”

𓆩𓆪𓆩𓆪

“Missed a spot. There.” Cass had woken up from her nap in the middle of you and Tim cleaning, seating herself atop a concrete pillar. You moved towards where she was pointing. The paint had already begun to dry, making it harder to clean, not to mention how hard it was to clean grass, plucking the paint covered parts and letting the wind take them away when you had enough.

“Can’t believe you would out me like that.” Tim grumbled. “I trusted you, Jane. Shame on you.”

“Against Alfred’s ire, it’s every woman for herself.”

Cass chuckled, her feet swinging one after the other, her heels thumping against the column. The cleaning continued in silence up until the distant sound of a car approaching made you three stop, waiting for the car to get closer and see who it was.

Could it be the reporter again? No, this car was different —and clean—, so unless the man was stupid enough to come back and risk getting another car a new paint job, it had to e someone else.

“Brother!” Cass exclaimed when the driver had gotten out of the car, jumping down from the fence straight to Dick’s arms. “I missed you!”

“Aww, I missed you too, Cass.” Dick let go of her, rounding the left opened door of his car, a frown on his face when he noticed you two. “Hey guys, what are you doing?”

“My punishment for being a good person and helping a traitor.”

“I swear, Timothy, I’m going to put salt in your coffee.”

“Oh, so now I’m being threatened. For shame.”

You threw your rag to his face, your less than good aiming not even getting it close to him. Tim broke into a wheezing fit, holding his stomach and balancing himself until his back hit the grass.

“Don’t forget, Drake, I know where you live.” Tim’s chuckles were joined by those of Dick’s.

“I’m definitely missing a lot of context here. I can only gather you’ve been spending a lot of time with Damian, Jane.”

Prepared for Dick’s arrival, Alfred had busied himself with cooking some of Dick’s favorites meals. The kitchen a combination of wonderful smells of dishes you’d never heard of before.

Having meals with so few people felt weird now, having grown accustomed to all the chatter and bickering Damian and mostly Steph would make. Today it was only Dick, Cass, Alfred, and you. Tim had to leave in a hurry after a PR disaster involving a higher up employee —Something about embezzlement or something like that.

“So, what’s space like?” You asked in between bites.

“Oh, you know, just the usual.”

“Unbelievable that not only you went to space, but also other planets and the only thing you can say is ‘Just the usual.”

Dick chuckled.

“You’re right, I’m sorry. Uh.” He took a sip of his drink, clearing his throat. “It’s usually hard to enjoy the scenery when time’s not on your side. Green Lantern was being accused of genocide, and, well, the penalty would be execution if he was guilty, so you’ll understand why we were so desperate to find out what was going on.”

“Did he do it?”

“Of course not. He thought he did it, as an accident, but someone was trying to frame him. They used holograms to make it seem like the planet was destroyed.”

“That’s horrible! Why would someone do that?”

“In simpler words? Power.”

Just how taxing is it to be a superhero or a vigilante? To have the weight of the world on your shoulders, to constantly be risking your life for people that most likely wouldn’t even give you the time of day on a normal afternoon. How can they keep their heads cool knowing that if they fail, it’s literally quite possible for their whole word to cease to exist?

“So,” Dick spoke again. “How much did you and Tim messed up to get reprimanded like that?”

You groaned, letting your head dramatically fall to the table. Cass was laughing and you could hear the awfully loud sigh of disappointment from Alfred.

“In my defense, it was an extremely disgusting article.”

𓆩𓆪𓆩𓆪

Just like Tim said, no one else, be it the newspapers, gossip shows or any random citizen in social media even mentioned the article. Your appearance in the media had practically gone unnoticed.

After your whole explanation to Dick, —and after his disgust had passed— he assured you as well Bruce’s reputation would not be tainted, a fact you confirmed with each hour that passed and nothing else came up.

However, he stressed that if you still wanted, you could sue them for slander. Or they could, since getting involved in that kind of legal issues would bring a whole new wave of unnecessary worries and attention from the public eye to the Wayne’s, mainly; you don’t exist. Not legally, at least.

You let it be. No need to bring unwanted attention to the family.

              | Why are my classmates asking about you?

Oh, you hadn’t thought about telling Damian. Nor how he would take to the article.

              | Because I’m so cool and awesome and everyone wants to hang out with me? ;)

              | And why are they calling you my mother?

              | I’ll tell you, alright? Just, trust me, it’s nothing. Tim and I took care of it. https://www.gotham.weekly/bruce-wayne’s-biological...

You were actually scared of how he would react, knowing the kid, he would probably make a surprise appearance at the newspaper’s HQ with his swords and threaten everyone inside.

He was taking a while to reply. Was he on his way to the manor or did he have some kind of retractable swords he carried anywhere? You wouldn’t be surprised.

Or maybe he simply was caught texting during class.

Honestly, both were quite possible. Still, you wouldn’t try to call him in case he was actually in class, paying attention or something. You tapped on the article’s link one more time. Even if it was revolting the things people would write for engagement, and you would unfortunately remember this incident every time you looked at them, you needed to download the photos, ignoring the motives as to why they were taken, they were still nice pictures. And you would print all the photos that you could before going back, something to remind you all of this wasn’t a dream.

Your heart sank the moment you opened the link, and it sent you to the white, ‘404 not found’ screen.

              | I took care of it.

Oh. Well, that was... Quite a better reaction than you expected.

              | Thank you, Dami :)! Wish I’d saved the photos first, tho.

              | image1.jpg, image2.jpg.

𓆩𓆪𓆩𓆪

As soon as Damian had discovered Dick had come back, he wandered to him like a magnet, never leaving his side. Every time you walked near them, the only thing you could hear was Damian narrating him all the things he did while he was gone.

You were relieved Damian had all but forgotten about your ‘lessons’, you loved he wanted to teach you how to protect yourself, but your body was still extremely sore, and hurting, and you wouldn’t be able to handle another night of practice.

Walking down the corridor to your room, you were ready to call it quits for the day, even if it was early. The living room was usually empty at this hour, with everyone in the house getting ready down in the cave for patrol, that’s why, when a familiar set of voices mentioning a very particular word reached your ears, curiosity sparked in you.

“It’s about the gun.”

“You got it working?” Dick’s voice wasn’t clear, munching on something crunchy and loud.

“I need to do several tests first, but… Yeah, I think so.”

“That’s great, Timmy!”

“Yeah…” Tim’s voice was gravelly, lacking the same enthusiasms his older brother had. “But Jane…”

“I know, I’ll miss her too. But she has her own life to go back to.”

“It’s not that, Dick—I, the math, I did it—”

You stopped listening the moment Damian turned the corner, a brow raised and coming to a halt when he saw you. Alfred the cat was calmly perched on his arms, jumping down at the lack of movement, stretching for a second before walking away.

With a nervous smile, you walked to him, away from the living room. “Why were you spying on my brothers?” Well, at least he’s calling Tim his brother.

“I wasn’t—”

“You were.”

“They were talking about that alien gun thing, and my world, was I not supposed to listen?”

“There is something called privacy,” The crease on his forehead deepened. “even if you are the topic of their talk. They will let you know when they are ready to do so.”

You opened your mouth, but no words left, whatever futile retort dying on your tongue. It was a whole level of humiliating to being scolded by a ten-year-old, even if that kid was Damian. Because, yeah, even if it wasn’t your intention at first, you were listening in. But it truly was impossible not to when weeks had gone by and not a single peep had been said about your situation. Whenever you brought it up with Tim, his ever-ready response was ‘working on it.’ Each time. Nothing more, nothing less.

And he was working on it, there was no doubt about it, even if he was doing so purely to get his dad back, or to help you as well, it didn’t matter.

But you were starting to feel uneasy for a second time, just like your first days here. There was something in the way he always said it; unsure, distant, avoiding your gaze while changing the topic. So, yeah, sue you for wanting to be in the know.

“How was school?”

“Bearable.” You chuckled, walking alongside him up the stairs leading to the second floor, the sun setting in the horizon. “I researched the clubs per your request.”

“Suggestion, Damian. Suggestion.”

“There is a voluntary program in an animal shelter, Friday evenings. And… It is not for students only. Anyone can go.”

“You’re saying you want me to go with you?”

“If that is what it takes to keep you from snooping around.”

He said it so nonchalantly, an afterthought, yet you noticed through the reflection of one of the mirrors in the hall how he kept glancing at you.

“Of course I’ll be there.”

His shy, small smile almost made you want to pinch his cheeks like an old lady, but you still appreciated having an un-broken hand, settling for messing up his hair.

𓆩𓆪𓆩𓆪

You’d been here for weeks, and the beds at Wayne Manor still felt so surreal as your first night here. The satin bedsheets were still as smooth as ever, the pillows were never hot, no matter how high the temperature was, and in all, you always slept like a baby.

You wondered if they had some kind of magic in them to be so damn comfortable all the time.

Considering just who this house belongs to, you wouldn’t be surprised if that was the case.

Every night you would fall asleep as soon as your head hit the pillow, not waking up until your alarm went off. This morning was different; a soft, but repetitive thud, thud against the window woke you from your slumber. Sluggishly, you grabbed a cushion to place over your ear to muffle the sound of whatever bird thought your room was the perfect place to be annoying.

It seemed luck was not on your side, the noise getting louder and faster. You groaned, throwing the cushion and blanket to the side, tapping the cold floor with your feet to find your slippers in the dark. A quick look to your phone, eyes squinting at the bright screen, revealed it was fifteen to five. Not even five in the morning. When you slid open the curtains, you expected to see a spooked bird flying away.

There was a bird. Just not the type you expected.

Sitting on the window’s ledge, a raised hand ready to knock once again, hanging in the air at noticing the curtain moving, a soft smile replaced his calm look once he took in your disheveled hair and sleepy hair.

You, on the other hand, had an opposite reaction, an audible gasp escaping you, covering your mouth with both hands a second later, turning to face the door and see if anyone had heard you.

“What are you doing?” As much as you wanted to yell at him, you had to do it in whispers, doing so right after you unlatched the lock to open the window, sticking your head out, a shiver running down your body caused by the chilly morning breeze, your knee-length shorts and sleeveless shirt not suited to properly warm you.

“Told you I’ll take you on a date.”

“At five in the morning?”

“Yep.”

You moved to the side when he got up from the edge to get inside your room, your heart skipping a beat at seeing him crouched so unbothered, half of his feet resting on air. You knew he had incredible balance and reflexes, but you couldn’t suppress the need to step forward and grab him so he wouldn’t fall. You didn’t do anything of the sorts, instead letting the cold air keeping for face fixed from the crisis your mind was going through.

“I promise it’s going to be worth it.” His feet landed without a sound, closing the window behind him.

“It’s going to be worth it. I promise.”

“All guys say the same thing, you know.”

“I’m not like other guys.” As soon as the words left his lips, his grin turned into a grimace, and you were a spectator of how hard he was cringing internally, hiding his hands in the pockets of his sweatshirt. Which, you now noticed, he wasn’t wearing his Red Hood suit, but simply jeans and a red sweatshirt. The tips of his hair were wet, yet when you looked out the window, the cobbled paths and grass lighted up by the garden lamps were dry.

To help him avoid more embarrassment, you asked once again.

“What could be worth it at this hour?”

He sat on the edge of your bed, fiddling with the straps of his hood. Even sitting down, you still weren’t taller than him, instead now being eye level.

“Trust me. Just change into something warm and comfortable.”

You took one last look at him before walking into your closet, gathering in your arms an outfit like his, a pair of jeans and a basic gray jumper. On your way to the bathroom, you pretended to be cleaning the sweater from invisible dust. What were you supposed to do if he was also looking at you? Smile? Say something? Look intently at him like a weirdo?

Before you could completely close the door, you heard him talk to himself, “‘Not like other guys?’ Seriously?” His groan drowned the click of the door closing, a smile on your face. It seems you’re not the only one nervous tonight.

Letting go of the door knob, you exhaled. You have no clue what he’s planning to do, and your sleep laded brain couldn’t conjure up any plausible or logical idea. And the time it was taking you to get ready was making you self-conscious on top of already feeling anxious and giddy, but you simply cannot go out with Jason with practically a bird nest on your hair, and never in a million years would you kiss him with morning breath.

That last thought made you pause halfway through putting your hair up with a bat-shaped hair claw —a claw Cass had gifted you the only time you went out to the mall.

That wasn’t going to happen, would it? There was no reason for him... What if he’s just— Oh who are you kidding? Why else would he take you on a date at the crack of dawn? Why bother if he’s not going after something? So, he was going to kiss you. Maybe.

But why did that hurt more than it made you happy?

“You ready?” He asked when you left the bathroom. With a nod of affirmation, he stood up, opening the door for you.

You didn’t even want to breathe, thinking that every exhale would be loud enough to be heard throughout the manor, your steps were cautious, deliberate, and slow. Meanwhile, Jason was already waiting for you at the end of the corridor, his steps made no sound, his training so ingrained in his mind and body it was second nature to move like a shadow, even if he wasn’t doing it on purpose. It was impressive, honestly.

“Slowpoke.” He whispered when you were in his reach.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t take bat-training when I was twelve, they didn’t offer it at my school.”

Jason chuckled. “Come on, or we’ll be late.”

Late for what, you wondered? If anything, you would be too early for everything.

It got easier to walk the farther you got from all the rooms, getting out of the manor through a sliding door that led to the garden, from there walking like normal to the driveway.

“Now what?” You asked, there was no way this wouldn’t wake them up, as you knew how loud the fence mechanism was. Jason said nothing, instead walking towards you and placing a hand on your waist.

“Don’t scream.”

“Huh?”

Before you could react, he pulled a grappling gun from his pocket, pointing it to a sturdy tree branch and firing it in less than a second. Your feet left the ground, going higher and higher, feeling the strength of gravity trying to pull you down, only succeeding once you were over the fence and falling to the other side.

“I’m honestly impressed, most people scream their first time.” You didn’t tell him it was because you were too stunned to react. But you would admit it was an amazing experience. “Come.”

He gestured for you to follow him. The darkness brought in your terrible memories, walking as close as you could to Jason, not wanting the shadows to consume you. Of course, the proximity meant your hands would graze each other with every step, the feeling grounding you and not letting your fears to overwhelm you.

Besides endless rows of trees spaced out so evenly they didn’t look real, there wasn’t much else around. The moonlight shone above the grass; the light being reflected by the morning dew.

You wanted to know so badly what was going on inside his head, daring only once to cast a rapid glance at him, his face calm, eyes focused on the road ahead, as if searching for something. You wanted to know what holding his hand again would be like, without the lingering fear and anxiety of waking up from a Fear Gas induced nightmare.

After the umpteenth time your knuckles brushed against his, you finally took hold of his pinky finger with yours, waiting with bated breath to see his reaction. You felt your lips shyly curve into a smile when he intertwined his fingers with yours, his grip strong enough to make you feel safe and secure, as though nothing could ever take you away from him.

“I—Uh.” He cleared his throat. “I’m sorry ‘bout the walk, had to make sure no one would hear my bike.”

“No, it’s alright. This is nice. Peaceful.”

It didn’t take long until you could see the form of a bike partially hidden in the bushes off road. There wasn’t any kind of modifications or enhancements you could see, it was your simply, standard sport motorcycle you could buy anywhere, two helmets dangling from one of the handles.

Jason, sadly, let go of your hand, your body already missing the warmth. He grabbed one of the helmets, and you hand your hand outstretched, waiting for him to hand it to you, yet he kept getting closer until you could feel his body heat.

“Sorry, I’ll have to…” He removed the hair claw, letting your hair loosely fall. It seemed he was going to say something else when he noticed the shape of the claw, releasing a deep chuckle. “This is cute.” He closed the teeth around the base of the hood, continuing with putting the helmet on your head, fumbling with the strap to get it to latch —and his wandering touches on your chin did not go unnoticed. He pulled up the visor once he was done, opening and closing his mouth a few times. “Is it tight?”

You blinked once, not believing what he just said. Out of nowhere. So bold. “Sorry?”

“The helmet, I’m not sure if I tied it too tight.”

You should get your head out of the gutter. “Oh.” Your cheeks were red, surely because of the cold. “No, it’s perfect.”

“Great.” He turned around to grab his helmet, and while he had his back to you, you let yourself have a bit of a meltdown in silence, placing your hands over your head, feeling plastic instead of your hair which you wanted to pull.

He was just getting on the bike by the time you were done, and you gingerly did the same, your arms rounding up his torso. Even with his layers of clothes, you could still feel how sturdy it was. After he made sure your visor was down once again, he turned on the ignition, swiftly gaining speed.

Rows of trees soon gave way to the outlines of the city, its tall skyscrapers blending with the dark night. Since Bristol was situated on a hill, you were able to see most of the city’s districts, a specific area to your right with so many lights on it seemed as if it was just the afternoon and not early morning.

“That’s Old Gotham.” Jason seemed to read your mind. “It’s kinda like Gotham’s own Vegas; casinos, strip clubs, night clubs, motels… Anything you could imagine opened late at night, it’s there.”

You grimaced at the thought of having a first date in a dingy, smelly casino, highly opposed to what you would’ve preferred. However, you never got close, the lights in fact getting further away.

After several minutes, he finally pulled over in a parking lot beneath what you assumed were apartments, taking the helmet from you, holding one on his hand and the other under his arm. He began walking, yet you took that chance to use the bike’s mirrors to try and comb your hair with your fingers —frozen fingers, mind you. Angling yourself in the perfect spot for the fluorescent lights to illuminate you fully. “You coming?”

He chuckled. This time, Jason didn’t hesitate on holding your hand.

“So, where are we?” You asked while waiting for the elevator to come down. He looked at you sideways, with that damned grin you loved so much, his hair all over the place as he didn’t bother to fix it, yet he still looked great, probably even better.

“Just a special place.”

The ‘ding’ announcing the elevator’s arrival echoed through the mostly empty parking lot, pressing the highest button to go all the way to the roof. During the whole time, he never let go of your hand, his thumb caressing yours and his hold tightening for a moment as if to prove you were still there.

Feeling boldened by his actions, you let your head rest on his shoulder, your eyes focused on the led screen displaying the floor you were in, twenty two, so far, the number going higher and higher seemingly without a want to stop.

“So, this is where the mighty Hood comes to rest?”

“Kinda, yeah.” He chuckled, but you noticed it wasn’t exactly a humorous laugh, rather a nervous one. You let your eyes wander around; there was a small camera on one of the corners behind you, but it didn’t look anything sophisticated, just a regular surveillance camera that most likely still recorded in black and white, without audio, but just on the off chance that you were wrong, you would leave the vigilante life topics for another day, in a safer place. Glancing down to your joined hands, a beaming smile made its appearance yet another time tonight, balancing yourself on the soles of your shoes. “Someone’s excited.”

“Well, I need to be moving or else I’ll fall asleep. You know, because it’s five in the freaking morning.”

“We’re almost there… Ah, close your eyes.”

“Why?”

But instead of replying, he let go of your hand, getting behind you and covering your eyes with his hands. You didn’t even get the chance to see in which floor you’d ended before the ding of the elevator was heard, the doors opening and welcoming the strong, freezing wind biting at your uncovered skin. So, you’re outside once again.

Jason was calmly guiding you, and even though you knew he wouldn’t walk you to the edge of the floor, your steps were still shaky, arms and hands outstretched in front of you as to not collide with anything. “Can’t you just—”

“You can open them, now.” His hands fell from your face to your shoulders, and a breath escaped you from what’s in front of you.

On a raised platform there was a small, rectangular patch of grass with beautiful red roses and bushes around, a fluffly red and white blanket with a woven basket keeping it on the ground, fake candles illuminating the still dark sky.

When you turned around to look at Jason, to see anything in him to let you know this was indeed meat for you, he still had another surprise in his hands. “Flowers, in my opinion, are a must. But since you said no flowers, well...” He handed you a chocolate bouquet with peonies and tulips made with chocolate. “I’m sorry it took me so long, but I wanted to find the perfect rooftop and… Was it too much?”

He panicked when tears began prickling your eyes, his hands holding your shoulders to comfort you. You wanted to talk, to answer it wasn’t too much that it was perfect, to say something. But your emotions got the best of you. It brought up all your past pains and experiences, all your heartbreaks and disappointments.

It brought up that perfect remainder that you could very well go back to your earth tomorrow, and you would never be able to talk to them.

Through the tears, now free falling, you looked up, his face full of worry, and confusion, and embarrassment, and unease. You placed your hands on his jaw, face not even twitching at your cold fingers. “Thank you.” You whispered. He, in turn, smiled, kissing your forehead.

“Come, you won’t want to miss this.”

You nodded, using the back of your hands to rid you of the tears, letting Jason guide you once again and sitting down next to him on the warm blanket, just in time to see the golden rays of sunshine shine on the city.

[plaindangan]

Tired of getting a bit of a big gamer gut, Chiaki hires Kirumi (I knooow not really possible but) to help her go from chubby fat ass, to Amazon fitness goddess. Along the way though, to keep the junk food out of Chiakis mouth, Kirumi starts eating all of it herself. (A little corruption/breast butt expansion for Kirumi getting lazy while Chiaki gets big and strong)

Disclaimer: Below is content that's more on the racy side! If not for you, you probably shouldn't read!

When Chiaki hired Kirumi she had a feeling she get the results she would want. It wasn't something she wanted lightly. While she had grown fond of her old body, and especially loved the attention it brough from people wanting to sink their hands into her doughy rump or her belly, becoming built was healthier in the long run. She knew Kirumi had a great track record for whipping her clients into shape so Chiaki assumed she would be no different,

An assessment proving true ever since the first day, where she witnessed Kirumi produce a several page contract detailing just what she was going to do, the exercise routine Chiaki needed to get into and, importantly, the restrictions on the fatty food Chiaki ate before this. The last part was the roughest. Saying goodbye to her quick chips, sodas, assortment of sweets was hard. But when the trade off for it was cooking by Kirumi's standards, she learned to get used to it.

Oh, concerning the junk food, while Kirumi seemed keen on just locking them away from Chiaki at first...doubt crept in her mind. What if Chiaki get cravings so intense she'd break the lock of the pantry holding that bad food. And then where would he progress be!? So what did Kirumi decide to do?

Well, throwing them away wouldn't be right, if anything it would only be a waste. And pawning them off also didn't seem right as well. Maybe...eating them herself would be fine? It's better than Chiaki munching on them and she could certainly pace herself to avoid growing bigger from them, right?

--

"Huff, huff, h-how much more for my warm-ups?" asked the gamer, addressing Kirumi in the park. It's been a few months since she started and the changes were quite noticeable, especially with how her green hoodie was leaving her tight midriff exposed. Her short shorts, in addition to showing that even her fat ass had become so sexily toned, help highlighted that her once pudgy hips were now legs of steel that could probably split a concrete block in half if she really wanted to.

"I'd say about three more laps should do it." said...Kirumi? She was wearing a black tracksuit, a decision which made the changes with her pretty obvious.

All that fatty junk food went not to Kirumi's gut, but it did apparently go to her boobs and butt. Her jacket was struggling not burst from the maid's F-cups. Every time she went on a jog, they moved like crazy and there were even occasions were some malfunctions that had a very large, quite puffy, tit exposed for a good period of time. It also didn't help that her own ass was barely keeping in her pants most of the time. Every time she walked, or God forbid even bend over, lucky onlookers could catch a fantastic view of some very squishy moons in daylight~

But did Kirumi care? No! This was her client's time to be better and if all it took was to scarf down a chocolate bar or two or ten....

Then she'll eat how ever she wants!~

[vertebrae-entertainment]

23.01.24 - Environments

Hey y'all, happy new year! Things were pretty much busy from the get-go for us, so we haven't had time to post a proper update. But now we're here, and here's whats up!

This is a reference picture my partner took for me on one of our trips to my hometown of Stavanger, Norway a couple of years back. Stavanger has been a great influence of multiple of my games, mostly due to a love-hate relationship, complicated nostalgia and pride. Its a gorgeous town with lovely nature and bustling culture, but it is also full of rich jerks and elon-pilled right-wingers. Thats what the oil industry will do to you!

Anyway, thats neither here nor there- i think anywhere you grow up, you have a complicated relationship with.

If you've been peeking at our discord (hey, come hang out with us!) lately, you might have noticed that i've been posting a bunch of mockups for environment art and i thought i could give y'all an insight into how important dirt is to me!!

Environments have been on the backburner for a long time for me, mostly because im not an environment artist and i am pretty intimidated by the task ahead. My task is: portray post-apocalyptic Norwegian society and nature, and make it so that Fangst wont be mistaken for just any other game. It needs to be both unique and also very deliberately reflect real world locations. That's no small task!

But i've made some visual breakthroughs lately, and that has made me able to grasp the task much easier. Its been in the art recipe for this project all along, the key words being impressionism, brutalism, texture! The trick was combining it in the right way.

Here is a mockup i posted earlier this month. The angled texture on the rocks is strongly inspired by brutalist concrete sculptures, with a thick outline to show the player what is and is not a platform. Overlaid is a real-world picture my partner took of some algae and plant growth on rocks close to the sea.

The background is impressionist, clearly distancing it from the lens and 'player space' by taking on a different artstyle. We have mentioned earlier that we're inspired by the work of Munch, and have earlier tried to replicate the sun from this piece in-game.

The characters are also modernist, but in a different sense- taking inspiration from the UPA revival movement most famously seen in early 2000s cartoons such as Dexters Laboratory and Samurai Jack. I suppose this could make them a third, separate layer of modernist art!

Right now some aspects don't fit as cleanly into the formula- plant life is proving tricky, and remains semi-realistically styled. UI is deliberately made to look like real-world objects, because i think it helps it stand out against the other layers. Readability is my primary concern right now, i have a tendency to soup that away in the hunt for exciting art direction.

Next time, i'll be talking about a whole separate beast again- architecture. Nothing is more norwegian to me than dingy little wooden houses along a coastline, so you bet your ass im putting effort into it! But also, GLOBAL GAME JAM IS COMING UP- so i might also talk about that :3 We'll see.

Have a good one! -Hauk

[gregorygerwitz]

I want to preface this with I respect your decision as a writer to have mouse not drink caffeine as a recovering addict.

But I would also like to say that some addicts turn to other "benign" addictive substances while in the recovery phase and then wean off of them, in turn, to help with withdrawals and to soothe the ache of having been addicted and missing the substance, it's a way to cope. So that may have been deliberate on the part of the writers, but even if it wasn't, it still makes sense from an addiction standpoint, particularly if the recovery is undertaken mostly on your own. A substitute is sometimes even recommended by professionals. Things like sugar (jelly beans) and caffeine, (energy drinks, coffee) are common for people in recovery to turn to!

I'm used to people pushing back against that headcanon because "tea has caffeine too!!!" (I know that, because I have to watch what tea I buy, personally, so I don't get anything that doesn't have a crazy caffeine content because I'm cutting back so much myself) so I was braced for that. This is a very pleasant surprise, and something I didn't personally consider because I can research and babble and talk myself in circles any day of the week, but I freely admit that I have very little relevant experience in the realm of addiction.

I did recognize that habit with the jellybeans! Although, I think that's a little bit easier to pick up on considering what little we know about Mouse's past substance abuse - the only real concrete detail is Jay's "popping pills" comment in 4x02, and as a lover of jellybeans (and someone who is on prescription medication), I know the shape and the mouthfeel. I realized he's snacking on jelly beans in 4x04 of Chicago Fire and immediately made the connection of "oh, that's potentially an open opportunity for angst! that might be a way of self-medicating his own self-medication!"

Alternatively, I know that some of the times we see Jay snacking or eating or drinking something on screen, it's just Jesse needing a snack on a long set day. So this could very feasibly be Sam just munching or grabbing something he thinks looks good or he planted in the fridge during the take.

Personally, I am very hesitant to think the writers did something like that on purpose, simply because the writing around Mouse, specifically was... not good. I have quite a few complaints about how underused he was even as a side character, the way the team treated him, all of that. I just feel like they didn't put enough thought into Mouse as a character to make a little decision with big meaning like that? Especially when we see him high and a little off the legal rails in 1x15, his first appearance, there's a short conversation about it when he appears again in 2x16, and then absolutely nothing else about him or his backstory outside of Jay in any capacity until 4x02 when he got his past addiction and felony record thrown in his face.

That being said, I could be wrong! I wasn't in the writers' room, and I don't know what they or Sam were thinking when those scenes were being written and filmed. It could have also been a directorial decision made on the spot when they were filming the scene!

I was going to put a gif of Mouse with the energy drink here but apparently I don't have one that actually shows the can??? Weird. I'll have to add that to my list of things to make after the move when I get settled in.

But thank you for the insight! I probably won't change how I write him, just because 90% of the time I ignore canon and write in AUs anyway, but it definitely adds some interesting depth to those scenes when I rewatch them! 💜

[because-she-goes]

chocolate

warnings: none, just fluff. Enjoy!

What do you get for the boy on the other side of planet who has everything he could ever possibly want. What do you get the girl all the way back in America who could simply thrift or create whatever she needed.

The answer they both came up with was flowers. Matty’s being a classic romantic and liked red roses. Nora loved daisies and how summery they were. They also decided on dessert deliveries. Matty sent muffins for his muffin and Nora sent him the unreal brownies he loved from her place in New York.

So, now here we are. April 8th, 2017. Matty’s 28th.

Matty woke up that morning in his London home, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes. They had started work on the next album, still untitled. Him and George were pulling late nights and drinking too many redbulls. His plaid pants hung low on his hips and he pulled on a robe, his house freezing. Going to make his morning cup of tea, he starts checking his phone for any overnight emails or texts from Jamie… he sees a missed call from Nora from last night at about 10pm - 3am London time. He checks the clock and sees its only about 5:30am there, Nora won’t be up for hours. Other than that, no immediate fires that need to be put out. Sipping his tea, he walks to the front door and grabs his newspapers - all the boys collecting them for album material. He loves these types of mornings - slow, relaxed, sleepy. He just wishes Nora could be with him, she had a work meeting tonight with a friend she had who was interested in commissioning something. She told him she would be getting the next flight out of New York in 2 days. He couldn’t wait. Her presence alone making the concrete house feel warm and comforting - like raspberry iced tea and summer time. He worked on a demo for a few hours and by the time lunch rolled around, his doorbell rang. Who could that be? He didn’t order anything and wasn’t expecting anyone. Matty swung the door open, and didn’t see the royal mail person there. Just a box with a note. Looking around again, shrugging his shoulders and picking up the box wrapped in twine with his name and address in a beautiful caligraphy.

Taking the package up to his kitchen, he unwraps it and the note falls to the ground. He takes the card and unfolds it. He inhales sharply when he recognizes the handwriting.

“To My Matthew,

Happiest of birthdays, Handsome! I am sorry I could not be there in person, but figured in the interim before my arrival you’d like a little piece of me. I love you so much, more than the English language will ever be able to articulate. I organized some things to arrive for you today so hopefully you like them. The first of which is a package of brownies from the bakery you love down the street from me, and before you even ask I did get the oreo ones you go nuts for. Don’t spoil your appetite, handsome… the boys’ll be round later to take you out. Have fun and again, I love you more than you’ll ever know.

Xx always,

Your Nora”

Matty was misty eyed, no-one had ever thought to send him something overseas when he was away. No girlfriend ever going that far for him. Putting that out of his brain, not wanting to get too emotional this early in the afternoon he tore open the box of brownies. The decadent smell of chocolate and candy filling the space around him, Matty thew his head back in bliss. “You’ve done it again, Downey!” He says to the universe - hoping someway she hears him. Munching on the brownie, he calls her.

“Well, good morning birthday boy! Gotten any of your gifts so far?” Her peach sweet voice comes through the line after a few rings.

“And a lovely afternoon to you, Honey! Yes actually, the brownies just came. Half already gone I’d like to report. Best brownies ever! What else is in store may I ask, beloved?”

“Oh, you’re good Matthew. I will be honest, I may have ordered a pack for myself to get delivered to the studio later. They truly are god’s gift to baking. As for the rest of the agenda, that is for me to know and for you to find out. Wouldn’t exactly be a birthday surprise if you knew, now would it, Handsome?”

“No it wouldn’t, Darling… Just know that when June rolls around and I’m locked away in a writing dungeon, I am gonna outdo whatever you have 10 fold.”

“You got yourself a challenge, Handsome.” She smiles. “Okay, I gotta run. I love you baby and happy birthday, I’ll be there before you know it.”

“Okay, good luck, Honey! I love you and am counting down the minutes.”

With that, another ring of the door bell comes as Matty hangs up the phone. Before him he sees a floral van and a young girl nervously holding a delicate bouquet of red roses and what look to be little bits of eucalyptus and white hydrangea. Oh, she knows him way too well, he thinks as he opens the door to the teenager.

“A Matty Healy?”

“I’m him! Thank You, doll. Have a good day!” He says to the girl as he tips her a few pounds and shuts the door softly. He grabs a vase and holds the flowers to his nose, he sighs in content. She really does know him incredibly well, a perfectly beautiful yet subtle arrangement.

Matty enjoys the rest of his day, texting her a picture of the brownie box now empty once the boys came and the flowers in their vase on his kitchen table. He blushed as she sent a kiss emoji and a “all for you, birthday boy <3”. Maybe 28 wasn’t going to be so terrible after all.

June in New York, Nora Downey turned 25 as the clocks struck 3:51am on the 16th.

She awoke quite differently than her other half. She slept through her alarm and wokd up a whole hour later for an appointment with her therapist. Calling the office, she rescheduled for the following day and was told it wasn’t any issue. Deciding to grab some coffee and swing by the local bookstore for her monthly magazine grab. Getting some copies of i-D magazine, DORK, Rolling Stone, British Vogue and British GQ. Heading back home excitedly to read her magazines, she gets a call from Matty.

“Hey baby, hows your birthday going? Doing anything fun today?” She smiles at his voice and the petname.

“Uhh, just heading home to read some magazines and things. Then maybe go to my painting and wine class!” He wishes he could be with her, but things with the album and the guys wanting to go to the countryside for the summer to write and work was just getting a little hectic. He does appreciate though that she is atleast doing something for her day, she raves about these wine and paint classes she started years ago. He still kept his plan of sending her a little something to her apartment, but she must have not seen it yet.

“Oh, that sounds fun! Me and the guys were gonna drive up north today and work at that studio I mentioned last week. Maybe I can facetime later and we can have a little virtual dinner date, yeah?”

“Sounds lovely, Handsome. I’m almost home by the way so sorry if this cuts out or if I go quiet trying to get upstairs.”

“Not a problem, take your time, Muffin.”

Getting to her building and clicking the button for the elevator she is shocked when she reaches her door.

“Healy, what have you done? Oh my god, don’t tell me you actually went through with the thing I joked about in Apri…”

“Oh, yes I did, Baby! Hope you love them, gotta run! Happy Birthday and I love you most!”

“Impossible, Handsome!”

Hanging up, grabbing the gorgeous bouquet of roses and daisies and the box she slides her keys in and kicks the door open. Knocking it closed, she carefully puts down the gifts on her entry table next to her key dish. Running to grab the cold champagne she keeps in case of emergencies from her fridge, a glass and a vase she makes me way back to the entry for the flowers. Setting the vase down on the living room table, she fills it with water and the flowers. Pouring her champagne, getting the box and magazines she sets up her afternoon. Nora goes to her bedroom, slides off her overalls and throws on a flannel shirt she stole from Matty and jean shorts. Gathering her hair in a ponytail and walking back to her idea of heaven, she sits comfortably on the couch. Snapping a picture of her and her treasures, she sends it to Matty - fully knowing its gonna drive him crazy that she’s in his shirt alone in her apartment.

“Couldn’t ask for a better start to 25 xx” She presses send and takes a bite of the incredible chocolate swirl muffins. She couldn’t ask for a better boyfriend.

[puffin-smoke]

okay, so here's ideas for what some rulers would use the crown for!

Sherrif Jimmy:

Had to do everyone's favourite wet cat first! Of course, he would use it to make everyone obey the law and by proxy, respect him. What I think would be funny is what comes after. He desperately clings to power, hiding the crown in the deepest caverns of his empire but it cannot last forever. I'm just imagining the entire server doing like a heist to get the crown from Jimmy, Mission Impossible style!

Mayor Lizzie:

Now for everyone's favourite literal cat! I've noticed that a lot of her motivation this season has been to hide and protect her fellow animals from humans, so here's my pitch: "All rulers must relinquish control of at least one pet to be sent to Animalia and any remaining pets must have their own private residence built for themselves."

It contributes to her desire to protect animals, lets her build a new district for all the new pets and gives the other emperors a something to add to their empire! It's perfect!

Fwhip of Gobland:

Okay, so I could go and make it related to him and Jimmy's break up but I don't want to; who needs angst when you can have funny.

He forces every ruler to pay a tax of two stacks of stone per week. Everyone thinks it's going to be used in the development of Gobland but in reality he's just eating the rocks.

Just munching on minerals. Just devouring debris. Just gobbling up granite. Just consuming some concrete. Just biting down on-

Princess Gem of Dawn:

I saw in one of Sausage's videos that Gem had decided magic is illegal in her empire, and while I do think it would be cool if she decided to outlaw magic entirely, I feel as though that would be a tad extreme for Gem; I feel going full dictatorship would be quite a jump for the pacifist princess.

Instead, her rule would be for every ruler to join the Church of the Sun and would have to abide by it's rules. I feel like that would be more in character for her, and it would be a win-win for everyone; who wouldn't want those cool as hell sunglasses!

Princess/ Monster Slayer Katherine

Once again, she's definitely more of a pacifist towards her fellow emperors, so would go for something that would help her, but would not harm any other empires.

"Each empire must suggest and execute a potential method to rid Glimmer Grove of its curse."

It'll give opportunity for some interactions, some character progression on Katherine's part and maybe some of the other characters could use it to learn about their own powers ( Sausage could search through a different reality for a cure, Shelby could cast a spell, Joel yells "LORE" at dead grass ). Whether any of it works is another thing...

Great Witch Shelby:

Everyone gets Katherine and Shelby wedding gifts

Potentially something similar to Katherine, just with trying to dispel the fog but I feel like Shelby would be adverse to asking the other emperors for help ( specifically Joey, even though that would be hysterical ). Maybe donations of potion ingredients, or access to any farms that produced said ingredients. I'm not too sure.

[allthingsfoodsystems]

Apricot Lane Farms - The Biggest Little Farm

So far, we’ve talked a lot about the things that we’re doing wrong in our farming practices, and we’ve also looked into different academic research about diversified farming systems that aims to give farmers the basis to implement more sustainable and ethical methods of food production. While that’s all well and good in theory, the age-old question remains, can diversified farming systems be implemented in a way that is both sustainable and economical? In order to answer this question, I looked into different farms that are applying these practices in various ways, and found one quite hopeful example: Apricot Lane Farms. 

Founded in 2011 by Molly and John Chester, the 234 acre farm is located in the countryside of Moorpark, California. The couple, originally a chef and documentary filmmaker, respectively, had always dreamed of starting a self-sustaining, diversified farm and were prompted to do so when they got evicted from their tiny San Francisco apartment because of their noisy dog. With the help of investors and their mentor, a leader in the biodynamic viticulture movement, Alan York, the couple bought a neglected, foreclosed farm and turned it into a veritable ecosystem of its own. Over the course of a decade, they employed regenerative farming methods, with an overwhelming emphasis on diversity, to revitalize the farm’s soil – which had turned to rock-hard dirt – and create a near-utopian way of life. Today, not only do they ethically raise a multitude of farm animals and grow over 200 varieties of fruits and vegetables, but they have also restored wildlife habitats on the land that house all sorts of different native plant and animal species. 

As can be seen in their documentary, The Biggest Little Farm, the couple went through many trials and tribulations to get to where they are today, and continue to find creative and natural solutions to the endless new problems that pop up. The rather simplistic motto with which they conquer all is diversity, diversity, diversity. The logic behind it is equally straightforward: striving for diversity, and in doing so getting as close as possible to a balance between the needs of the farm and that of the wildlife, will create a self-perpetuating and self-regulating system; the kind that the Earth has been naturally fostering for millions of years. Though we’ve discussed some of these methods in the previous post, this farm provides more concrete examples of the biomimicry that the scholarly work about diversified farming systems disseminates. For instance, when faced with the common problem of infestation that most farmers treat with pesticides, both organic and non-organic, Molly and John instead turn to the various animals on their farm that can feast on the little buggers. Thus, in order to deal with a snail infestation that was decimating important cover crops and citrus trees, they simply brought in the ducks from the pond to munch on this delicacy. This was beneficial for a multitude of reasons; the ducks ate 90,000 snails in just one season which took care of the infestation while acting as feed for them, and as the ducks pooped the snails back out into the fields they created a natural fertilizer to enrich the soil, allowing for even better produce from the citrus trees! 

Apricot Lane Farms is at the forefront of sustainable farming, and is a wonderful example of how to do things right and also make enough money to enjoy life. I highly recommend their documentary for anyone who's interested in this sort of thing, or for anyone who just wants to see cute farm animals and feel hopeful about our future!

[milk-lover]

I love hanging out in my garden with Marcy. She’s a strictly indoors cat, but every once in a while I’ll take her outside for some supervised Designated Garden Time. My backyard is bracketed on 2 sides by the house, so as long as she stays in the Triangle of Safety, I can just sit on the center of the hypotenuse and let her frolic.

Garden time ALWAYS starts with at Least 3 minutes of rolling. I don’t know why rolling is so important but it seems to be essential. Even when Marcy slips outside illegally (as opposed to being invited out for Designated Garden Time) she goes straight to rolling, which is nice for me because it makes it very easy to go and pick her up and put her back inside because it isn’t designated garden time!!! I wonder if the purpose of rolling has to do with spreading her scent, or if she just likes how concrete feels. It’s purpose may be to get as dusty as humanly (felinely?) possible, which is, coincidentally, it’s actual outcome.

After rolling comes about 5 minutes of Crouching and Sniffing. She needs to check out the space. Stop and stare every time there is a Loud Noise. Run back to the safety of the sliding back door because Sound.

After crouching and sniffing is Frolic Time. This is the bulk of Designated Garden time, about 10-15 minutes. It includes more sniffing, but in a bolder, more confident manner. Loud sounds are more or less ignored beyond a quick ear swivel. There are a few good overgrown garden beds in the Triangle of Safety, with plenty of crunchy leaves to pounce on. Folic time is also interspersed with Stare at Small Birds and Munch on Fountain Grass (which I really hope she doesn’t throw up later…). A few rolls are added in for flavor, but not to the degree that is necessary during Rolling time.

Eventually during Frolic time, Marcy will initiate the final stage of Designated Garden Time. This stage, which I have christened Ambush Predator Versus Persistence Predator, begins once Marcy starts straying outside the Triangle of Safety, into the Triangle of Potential Containment Breach. This side of the garden has significantly more obstacles, including a small pergola, the Overgrown Potato Bush Corner, the Shed, and the Empty Pond. This Triangle also critically has the two exit gates, and the Climbable Fence. Marcy knows that she is not allowed out of the garden, and I don’t think she really wants to be (the street is Really Loud, and the neighbors have outside dogs, both of which are enough of a deterrent to keep her from just beelining out of there, which is why Designated Garden Time is even allowed to exist). However, Marcy really enjoys the game of acting like she might try to escape. Hence Ambush Predator Versus Persistence Predator.

For about 5-10 minutes, Marcy will dart from obstacle to obstacle, while I follow her at a leisurely walk. As soon as I get in grabbing distance, she leaps away, runs to crouch in another hiding spot, then turns around to watch me. This is a very fun game for both of us, and is one of Marcy’s favorite forms of play; she is not very interested in most toys, which has made keeping her Enriched a bit difficult, so I’m glad I discovered this game. After a while Marcy gets tired, so, to signal the game is over, she will run to an open space and flop on her side. I may only assume that she is pretending to be a weary heroine, collapsing dramatically from her overwhelming battle wounds. At this point I will go and scoop her up, exchange some grumbling and hissing (she has a real ‘back off I’m angy hiss’ and a less serious grumbly ‘mommm 5 more minutes outside pleassseee’ hiss) grab my stuff, and go back inside to cuddle (and get my bed all dusty from all the rolling….).

I like Designated Garden Time a lot. I like that she and I can communicate so well, despite being different species. I like that I can read her and know when she’s having a good time. I like that I have a cat whose favorite game is basically tag. She’s so sweet and sassy and just has a great personality. I’ve got a really, really great cat. I’m glad that I am able to do things that make her happy, and get her energy out in a healthy manner.

[harrison-abbott]

Sam's Bacon Rolls

They asked me to go and get the rolls for the team. The boss slapped a twenty note in my palm and said, “Bacon rolls, all around, Sam.” I hadn’t been on the job long and he kept calling me Sam – which wasn’t my name – my real name was Alan. But I hadn’t the courage yet to correct him. I was keen to not fuck up with the bacon rolls for the lads. Out into the hot street I went. There was one of those pop up vans around the corner that sold meaty foods and coffee and so on. This, I assumed, was where I was supposed to go. There were seagulls circling high overhead, and some of them raging in a fat bin by the roadside, which snarled with speedy traffic. I hadn’t asked the boss how many rolls he needed, as he just said “All around.” Going up to the pop up, I met a younger guy who didn’t respond when I greeted him. “How many?” he said. – “How many can you get for twenty?” – “Umm. Six.” – “Good, that then, please.” So I got these six rolls into my arms and found them quite the hassle. I asked the guy if he had a bag? “We don’t do bags,” he said, looking at his phone. I left. And hurriedly walked all the way back to the warehouse, terrified that the gulls might attack me. They certainly caught on that I had all this piping food on me, and my arms were all saddled so it would be hard to defend myself; and they’re quite scary creatures, and pretty huge, when you see them up close. They didn’t attack me. One of them shat very close to me – or rather, the shit splatted on the concrete near my feet. Could have been worse. So I returned to the warehouse. The lads were sitting outside on chairs in the sunshine. I thought I’d done a good job and was beginning to be pleased with myself. The boss saw me. I hailed him. “Here are your rolls, chief.” I said. They all went quiet and the boss gaped at the rolls. “How many did you get?” – “Oh. Well, you said ‘all around’. So I thought you meant get lots of them.” The men considered this for a moment and then they all exploded into laughter. “Ahahahahahah!” I blushed. The boss said, “Oh, Sam. I just meant for me and you. Haha. I meant get one for me and one for yourself.” – “Ah. Sorry.” The chuckling continued, the other men all munching on what food they had. I handed the rolls to the boss. “It’s all right, Sam. Means the more the merrier for us.” And then the assistant manager interjected, by saying, “Hey: why do you keep calling him Sam? That’s Alan!” And this ensued an even louder bomb of laughter from all present, and made me smile, too. “Ah, shit,” the boss said, grinning. “Apologies, son.” … They actually all warmed to me after that day. My clumsiness worked out. And – hey – the gave me the nickname ‘Sam’ from then on. I’ve seemed to have attracted lots of nicknames throughout my life, and I never minded that one much.

[lifewiththelulus]

8 months. 8 months since her last call, last text. 

It's fine. She's just... working. She was doing this for them to have a better life right? 

But what could they possibly need?

They lived in a nice home, and she always managed to send enough money for bills that Kindlin had money left over to save.

Kindlin had picked up the responsibility of paying bills once she could do simple math. Budgeting became part of her normal routine.

She never really minded, but it did make her stress sometimes when she saw all the things she had to do just to take care of things.

The worst of it was when the heater went out in the middle of winter, and she got sick all alone. She was so cold and weak she barely got up to do anything for a few days.

Fortunately a repair person finally came after she called, and she turned out to be fine.

Kindlin thought about all this as she walked down the street alone.

She had already applied to about 15 jobs

All of them rejected her for one reason or another, and each rejection pushed her closer to the decision she had made.

She had to get out of here, start her own life.

She felt so guilty about it, but that house... that empty house.. it was like going back to a prison each night.

Condemned to the silence, and empty chairs at dinner.

Kindlin looked at the ticket in her hand. Elementopolis.

That's where she'd make it.

She had just enough to make it there, and well... after that she'd figure it out. She always did.

What she didn't anticipate was the rain.

Or to forget her umbrella.

She hissed in pain as the drops became more frequent, bigger.

"C'mon, I'm halfway there!'

She hopped on her board and started to weave in and out of foot traffic. 

The small fire girl began to cry as the cold water ate away at her flames, and she finally decided to take shelter.

It's not like she hadn't been caught in the rain before.

That's when she found a dry spot under a potted plant.

She curled up as small as she could make herself, before noticing a couple fingers had been snuffed out.

She dug some wood chips out of her bag and munched on them, fixing her hand.

She sighed, and hugged her knees to her chest.

"What am I gonna do?"

She watched as the rain started to get harder.

She hated storms.. but it would be fine as long as-

Thunder started to rumble lowly.

This was a mistake.

A huge one.

*She* was just one big walking bad choice.

But.. it felt like the only one.

It's not like she had nothing here. She had her friends.. theater, she had Cirrus, and that feral kitty. 

But... something ached in her chest, telling her to go. She *needed* to go.

She didn't know she had started crying until steam came off of the concrete.

She sniffed and hid her face.

She wondered if anyone would look for her if the rain picked up and extinguished her right now.

Would... *She* even care?

All these thoughts swirled in her head, but she didn't know if it was that or the humidity making her feel sick.

That's when a voice stopped those thoughts.

"Are you ok dear?"

She looked up at a taller element, a plant lady.

She had flowers of the softest purple, and a warm smile.

"I-I'm so sorry! I promise I'll leave i-"

She forgot the rain for a split second and yelped when she got pelted with water after trying to move from the dry spot.

The lady placed the umbrella over Kindlin and offered a hand.

"Come inside, it's not safe out here for you. It's supposed to storm all night."

Of course it was..

Kindlin slowly took her hand, stepping close to stay under the umbrella.

She winced as she walked on the wet pavement, steam trailing from each step.

Once inside, she reached in her bag but.. no more chips. Crap.

The woman locked the door up and put away her umbrella.

"It's sure coming down out there. What were you doing in that storm? I've never seen fire out when it's supposed to rain like that."

Kindlin was a little embarrassed.

"W-well.. I was actually headed to the train station."

The woman nodded, and squeezed water out of her pink apron.

"Well it's definitely gonna have to wait. I don't mind the company at all though."

Kindlin looked at her with a little surprise.

"Would you like something to eat? I'm sure I have something you can digest."

She gestures to the walls filled with treats.

Kindlin didn't even realize until now, she was in a bakery.

"Oh. Uh... thank you, yes."

She looked around the shelves in awe.

So many options.. some of them she knew she couldn't eat, but good lord it looked so good she wanted to try.

"Go ahead, help yourself. "

Kindlin picked up some wood cookies, and after one taste her eyes sparkled.

"Whoa .. that's so good!!"

She scarfed down the rest of it.

She didn't know she was so hungry... but that came with the territory of skipping meals constantly.

"Why thank you! Made them myself."

The woman smiled brightly and beckoned her.

"It's chilly here, let's go upstairs and I'll get the fireplace going."

Kindlin liked the sound of that.

As they walked up the stairs, the sweet lady spoke.

"I'm Buttercup, but Everyone calls me Birch."

Kindlin smiled softly.

"Nice to meet you, Ms.Birch, I'm Kindlin."

As they got upstairs Kindlin saw that the whole place was filled with pinks and purples. It was like a dollhouse almost, flowers on the walls, and some cute wooden furniture.

Birch put a few logs into the fireplace, and started looking around.

"Now where are those confounded matches at?"

Kindlin walked over

"Oh here, let me."

She took a bit of her own fire, tossing into the pile of logs.

Birch smiled happily at that and placed a hand on her shoulder.

"Why thank you! I guess it doesn't matter to you whether it's cold, but this sure warms me up."

Kindlin tilted her head.

"Actually fire people can get cold."

Birch raised her eyebrows.

"Really?? I wouldn't have guessed! I'm my age and I'm still learning so much."

She just kept that soft smile.

"Well in that case, let me get you a blanket. If you like you can stay until the storm passes."

She went to the closet and grabbed a blanket.

Kindlin just smiles softly.

"I should be thanking you. For a lot. I don't know what might've happened to me out there."

Birch wrapped her up and shook her head.

"Of course. I wouldn't leave you out there. That's monstrous."

Kindlin seemed a bit surprised at that and looked down 

"Yeah… thank you."

She shuffled awkwardly before Birch patted the couch.

"Come sit down, you must be tired."

She wanted to ask this little girl so much why she had been crying, why she was alone, and why she was headed to the station, but didn't push.

Kindlin sat down, and they were both quiet for a moment before thunder clapped suddenly.

Kindlin covered her ears, squeezing her eyes shut.

She *hated* storms.

Birch noticed this and frowned softly.

"I don't like thunder either.. when it would storm Mom would always bake with me. Rain rain go away raspberry pie.. no more clouds cookies.. "

Kindlin calmed a little as the sweet woman spoke. Her voice was.. soothing. Or maybe her presence.

"That's a funny name for a pie."

Birch chuckled and nodded

"Oh yes, she always had the best dessert names.. I miss her every day."

Kindlin's small smile fell. It didn't go unnoticed.

[blue-aconite]

H, M, and T for the fanfic asks pls my werewolf love!

H: How would you describe your style?

I have no idea. A mumble jumble that somehow people enjoy? Emotional bullshit? Nah, but I actually don't know!

M: Got any premises on the back burner that you’d care to share?

I don't have anything concrete to share, but chapter 1 of Between the Wolves is in progress as is Love, he called it Part 2 and chapter 2 of Let Me Drown! Have a lil snippet of LMD below the cut:

Bob smiled politely when she joined them, munching on a few peanuts. “Isn’t Hangman here? We were talking about going to the golf course before dinner ended.” He angled the cup of peanuts towards her, a silent offer.  “No, he’s meeting someone tonight I think.” There it was again, the white hot jealousy igniting within him every time they mentioned Seresin. Everything about the man infuriated Bradley. His friendship with Bob, the very obvious way he looked at Thea.  “Well, I’ll see him tomorrow. You up for some golf Rooster?” Bob’s invitation was genuine but Bradley could think of a hundred other things to do before meeting Hangman again. He swallowed a mouthful of beer before answering. “Sorry, but I’ve got some solo simulations to run.” There was no need to mention that he’d never played a single game of golf in his life, except on Wii. He detested the sport, there wasn’t anything remotely fun about it. Bob smiled brightly, so like Thea’s smile. “Yeah, Thea mentioned that earlier when we spoke. Sorry man, totally forgot.”

T: Any fandom tropes you can’t stand?

I'm not a fan of mpreg? Idk if that's a trope or an AU tbh. There's probably a lot of them I can't stomach but right now I can't come up with a single one lol. This is the worst answer in the history, I am so sorry!

fanfic ask game

[lemissingmask]

Reblogging this to add a quick little associated ficlet. This is mostly based on an incredibly vivid dream I had last night that was probably spurred by thinking about the scenario that, in my mind, surrounds this scene.

Ficlet below the cut. And below that a description of the dream because it was so vivid I want it to be an episode so I can rewatch.

-

“Nate?” Hardison frowned, looking from one screen to that with the audio feeds, “Eliot’s shift was meant to end by now, right?”

Nate excused himself from their mark under the guise of a phone call, “An hour ago. Why?”

“His comm’s still offline.”

It would be when he was working. The job he was undercover doing was as a casual worker on a cargo ship, involved in admin and documentation to help the ship’s crew. They knew he would be out of contact during his shift, but he was meant to make contact straight after to tell them what he found. Their client’s brother has disappeared when doing that same job, and it looked like he wasn’t the only one. Not many, but a few other workers on that dock had missing persons cases filed and now closed.

Their mark was the owner of the ship, who covered hiring, and definitely he was shipping some less than legal cargo, but nothing so far linked to the disappearances.

“He’s probably pulling a double shift,” Parker said, munching on cereal as she hopped onto the desk beside him, “You know how he gets when he’s undercover.”

Hardison smirked and buried his concern for the moment, but he couldn’t shake the feeling that something was very wrong.

By the time it was dark and they were all back at base, except for Eliot, that concern was back up at its height once more.

“Have you tried his cell?”

“Straight to voicemail. Last ping from the comm was at the docks this morning.”

“Alright,” Nate decided, “We go to his last known location and see what we can find. Hardison, keep trying to get in contact.”

It was only a short drive, compared to some, to reach the dockyard Eliot had been working in, and only a five minute winding drive to get to the ship. Or where the ship had been. Where the ship should have been.

But it wasn’t.

There was no ship.

“You sure this is the right place?” Sophie asked at the same time as Nate questioned,  “Can we find out where it went?”

Hardison was typing at his tablet, “It’s the right place, and yeah, sort of. We can find it’s manifest. But that says it was meant to be in dock for three more days.”

“Next destination?”

“Port of Los Angeles.”

Nate was silent, thinking, and none of them interrupted him. Parker wandered off slightly, towards the edge of the cement dock, appearing ethereal in the darkness, body almost unseen in the darkness. Hardison watched her crouch and pull out her phone, holding it as a torch to the ground.

“We can’t just assume he’s on the ship, nor that it will follow its manifest,” Nate concluded, “We need to wait for Eliot to make contact and find out what we can about the other workers with him today. If they’re all missing too, who was in charge…”

“Guys!” Parker called out, “Look at this.”

She was standing with her phone in one hand, shining it on a shiny object dangling from her other. Eliot’s necklace.

“It was there,” she shined the torch down at the ground, revealing the dirty concrete scored with marks and stains, nothing meaningful, except for the reddish mark of a droplet. And a few others. Blood, but not much, leading in a small trail from the pendant towards the road. Away from the ship.

“Maybe Eliot did leave us a sign,” Nate smiled, “Hardison.”

“Traffic cams, got it.”

“Sophie, Parker, start trying to call the other workers from today,” Nate continued, “We need backgrounds on them all, especially the permanent crew and dock workers.”

Hardison saw Parker pull Eliot’s necklace over her head, tucking it into her shirt gently, before she set off with them back towards the truck.

-

Even with that clue, they didn’t seem to be finding much anywhere near as fast as they’d like. Sophie had spoken to their initial mark, and didn’t believe he had any knowledge of the disappearances, but his evasions suggested he knew well enough about the ship.

He was probably smuggling illegal goods, but she didn’t believe he was abducting people. Even still, she and Nate worked on continuing their con on him. A straightforward one that should land him nicely in jail.

And in the meantime Hardison and Parker focused on finding Eliot. Traffic cameras hadn’t helped - too many vehicles going away from that area in the several hours that Eliot had been out of contact. And all the warehouses in the docks had legitimate businesses connected to them, with cameras showing nothing unusual. Empty, full of boxes, workers inside sometimes, but nothing odd. Not in any one or the fifteen warehouses and over two hundred cameras Hardison hacked to check.

Two of those in charge of hiring casual workers, however, did have shady records. Arrests for violence, assault, aggravated assault…

They had connections at other docks, industrial areas, farmlands - places with temporary, short term, staff - and places with associated missing persons. Just a few per location every year or so, but it added up to at least twenty missing each year in the state in total.

Hardison was on his second all-nighter in a row, his fifth all-nighter in the three weeks Eliot had been missing, digging through their records to try and find some place or building they might all use or own when his phone rang.

He didn’t bother checking it, but put in his earpiece and spoke.

“Talk.”

“Hardison.”

The hacker felt his heart lift, his breath finally coming easy, at Eliot’s voice.

But his relief was immediately checked at the whispered tone. The number now he looked at it was unknown and withheld.

“Eliot!” Hardison switched to speaker as Parker suddenly appeared beside him, “Where are you?! Can you talk?”

“Not loudly,” Eliot replied, voice still hushed, “These guys…”

He fell silent.

Hardison and Parker waited with bated breath, not moving in case any sound might alert whoever Eliot was hiding from.

“…they drugged all the workers. Figured out in time to…”

More silence, “Woke up in a cage. They branded us, loaded into a truck, an’ moved us somewhere else. About thirty miles…”

Silence. Someone must be patrolling, or pacing, or maybe there was a camera he was dodging.

“Thirty miles east of the docks. Got us in cells now.”

“What f…” Hardison paused, his mind catching up with what had been said, transforming his question about why they had them in cells into the more important, “They branded you?!”

“Hardison!” Eliot hissed, “Can you track this phone? I can’t get an exit yet. Not without these guys killin’ some of the others before I can get through ‘em.”

“I’m working on it.”

Hardison had been working on it automatically since the call came in and he heard Eliot’s voice, but it was taking a while.

“Why did they take you?” Parker leaned over towards the phone, Eliot’s necklace knocking against the desk as she moved.

“They’re…”

A sudden beeping, like a mobile phone alarm.

Very loud.

Coming from the phone Eliot had.

“Dammit!” he growled, “How do I…”

He never got to ask how to shut it off.

Another voice came muted over the phone, “Shoulda guessed it would be Mr Hero over here. Trying to call for help? No good. GPS is disguised.”

“No it ain’t…” Hardison mumbled, working around that crude software as it fought his efforts to locate the phone.

“Hand it over.”

“Come an’ get it,” there was a smirk to Eliot’s voice, a challenge.

The sound of a code being punched into a digital lock. Four digits then another voice stopped it.

“Stop fucking around!” this one was angry, sharp.

“He took my phone. Trying to call for help. But it’s…”

“Fucking idiot.”

Those words were followed by a sudden crack. A gunshot. A moment later, the phone fell abruptly silent and its signal vanished.

Hardison ran a hand over his face, his breath coming erratic.

There seemed no doubt what had happened. They had shot Eliot and then the phone.

Eliot took getting shot lightly, but that didn’t make him immune to a bullet through the head or the heart.

He had managed to narrow down the location, but not by much. Not much more than Eliot already had.

Thirty miles east of the dock.

It needed to be somewhere isolated and large enough to hold…how many people? Eliot hadn’t said, and they didn’t know if they were taken from different locations.

The area marked out included a container yard, a farm, a small town.

He cross-referenced each against their list of suspected people involved.

Nothing.

Hardison jumped as the door behind them opened, but Parker didn’t. She was immediately on her feet, addressing Nate and Sophie.

“Eliot called!” she said, adding, “Says he’s thirty miles east of the dock and Hardison managed to track him a bit, but…he got cut off.”

“Got cut off?” Sophie repeatedly nervously.

“There was a gunshot.”

“How much did you narrow it down?” Nate asked, looking over Hardison’s shoulder at the screen.

“A farm, a container yard and a town in the area.”

“We drive out there,” Nate said, “We’ll do it old school. Knock on doors, look around in person. See if there’s anything or any word on the street that might suggest there’s something going on. Did he say why he was taken?”

“He wasn’t alone, but he didn’t manage to tell us why they were there.”

Nate nodded, “Get what you need and get ready to head out.”

Most of what they would need was in the van already. There were the computers, but Hardison grabbed his tablet and laptop as well. Parker packed a bag with some of her more portable harnesses and rope, and of course lock picking tools and blowtorch, and both stun gun and taser.

Then they were on their way.

It was dark, but only just. Early enough in the evening for Sophie to phone the farm and a couple of the more probably cell-suited businesses in the town, adopting different accents and lies to suit each and try to get a gauge on them.

The farm they felt they could probably rule out by the time they neared the area, as well as the nightclub and factory.

The container yard was their first stop. It was the closest and, given Eliot was taken from a dockyard with a cargo ship, it seemed to make sense.

There was one night guard on duty outside.

Nate and Sophie distracted him while Hardison and Parker snuck past the gate and into the dark yard, the hacker looping each camera they met in turn, buying them the time needed to cross it, until they were comfortably far enough from cameras or guards to stop and start searching more systematically.

“How are we meant to narrow this down?” Parker whispered, “It would take days to search this whole place.”

“I can look through the camera feeds, see if there’s something…”

There was a sudden, faint but unmistakable, cheer, like a rowdy, alcohol-pumped, crowd.

“Or we could follow that?”

“And hope it’s not some sort of high school party or underground football game.”

“Underground football game?”

“Like secret?” Parker shrugged, “Illegal.”

Hardison frowned. The logic was there, but, strange. Very Parker.

They crept towards the noise, avoiding being caught by the cameras, and running into no guards as they moved, the sound ebbing and flowing, but generally getting louder.

It was coming from beyond a wall, two high, of shipping containers. Parker went up first, and he heard her through the comms.

“It’s a fight,” she whispered.

“A fight?” Nate repeated.

“The containers make a square and in the middle there’s a crowd and two people fighting in a cage,” she described, “They don’t seem to be very good. They’re not Eliot…”

“Can you see any cells?”

“No. But there’s a door going into one of the containers, leading to the cage. Maybe they’re inside?”

“Can you find a way in?”

“We’re on it,” Hardison replied and waited as Parker let herself back down to join him so they could start a walk around this square.

Nothing on this length or the next.

Except.

He backtracked a couple of steps and shined a torch over a stretch of seamless metal.

It was not so seamless.

A keypad painted to almost perfectly blend with the side of the container. The sort of thing he could hack in just a few minutes…

It beeped, and the wall swung inwards to create a low, narrow opening.

No cameras inside here that he could detect or they could see. Just a metal container with a door at each end.

Turning right, Parker led them through the first, and into what seemed to be two or more containers joined up, converted into a corridor of barred cells by the installation of moderately large cages against one wall. Each had a small door with a keypad on it, and all but the first had a man inside. Many were sleeping on the metal floor or sitting in the corners, as far from the door as possible, and they were all in identical shorts and t-shirt. Non-descript, dark grey.

Most were bruised, some had obviously broken bones, they all looked utterly destroyed.

Each cell was identical.

Toilet, wash basin, shower head on the ceiling, three solid metal walls and one barred. No light inside, no bed, no form of comfort.

Hardison heard Parker swear under her breath as she moved ahead of him, looking between the cages and the ceiling.

Some of the occupants spoke to them, but they didn’t dare answer yet.

“Guys?” Nate was insistent in their ear, “What’s going on? Talk to me.”

“There’s dozens of them,” Hardison said quietly, “Guys in cages. We need to get the cops and ambulances here, Nate. Like, now. While everyone seems to be watching the fight.”

“Copy that.”

Sophie asked, "Do you have Eliot?”

“Not yet.”

They passed through that corridor to a corner, made a turn into the next.

Another empty cage.

Two more strangers, both apparently asleep, not moving, another sitting up.

Parker darted back past Hardison to the second cage along and gasped, “Eliot?”

Hardison ran back to join her, looking between the bars.

It was Eliot, but it didn’t look like him. His hair was messy, fluffy from lack of his usual styling product, and it pillowed beneath his head like a halo, black in the dim light. His skin was ashen, stark against his hair and the concrete and the darker pool beneath him.

He was shirtless - some of the men were, and Eliot wasn’t exactly a taking off his shirt kind of guy, so that threw Hardison off.

But Hardison hacked the lock, opened the door, and they stepped closer. Now he could see why.

Eliot’s shirt was balled up and held by a limp, lifeless hand on his lower abdomen, completely stained deep rust brown with blood.

It also explained why Eliot looked so pale.

He didn’t react as they drew nearer, close enough to see his lightly shut eyes, his parted lips, the dark bruises on his face and arms and ribs.

Hardison knelt down and lightly touched his neck, closing his eyes and holding his breath until he felt a pulse. Weak, but it was there.

He opened his eyes and looked back into Parker’s hopeful ones, but said nothing. Not until he felt that pulse beat a few times more.

“We have him, Nate,” he said, and Parker added, “He’s unconscious. Looks like he lost a lot of blood…”

Her eyes wandered and she moved a hand along Eliot’s rib cage, fingertips brushing over a ‘7’ burned into his skin.

“We could get the prisoners out and burn this place down,” Parker whispered angrily, “Jail’s too good for these guys.”

“Jail is where they are going,” Nate said firmly, “Can you securely bind Eliot’s wound to move him?”

“He needs a hospital!” Parker hissed back.

“Maybe, but we will get him to one,” Nate said, “Cops are on the way. There will be a very in depth investigation here. We cannot be caught up in it. Get Eliot back out here. We can deal with the immediate blood loss ourselves and take him to a hospital closer to home.”

Hardison was about to object, and he heard Sophie already objecting, but Parker had nodded and started to pick at the bloody shirt.

“I think the bullet went through,” she said, pulling off her thigh-length coat, “We can fold this over both sides and hold it in place with some rope. Prop him up so I can get to the exit wound.”

She set to work, removing the drenched shirt and replacing it with her coat. In the brief moment the wound was uncovered, Hardison saw with relief that it was still bleeding. That was bad, sure, but it was extra proof that Eliot was alive.

He was alive, even if he wasn’t moving as Hardison held him up. Even if he was unbelievably cold and still.

When Parker finished, Hardison took his coat off to wrap around Eliot’s shoulders, before he carefully lifted him into his arms.

Parker took one more look at their hitter, and then darted away, checking up and down the hallway.

“Clear,” she called back, and Hardison followed her out of the cell.

As she led Hardison out, one man reached through the bars and caught her arm.

She jerked away, glaring, but her glare fell almost immediately.

The man looked so afraid and broken, and his grip was loose, not threatening.

“What about us?” he asked desperately, “You can’t leave us here.”

“Cops are on the way,” she replied, moving closer and touching her hand over his where he now clutched the bars, “In five minutes they will take the arena and come to free you.”

He lowered his head, and he let them go.

Outside, they could already hear faint sirens that grew louder and clearer as they moved back through the yard, Parker this time making sure no cameras caught them.

At the sight of lights, emergency vehicle lights, near the gate, they ducked behind a container.

Five police cars and two ambulances drove through. A moment later, a SWAT van and then another ambulance.

“You’re clear,” Sophie said, “Nate’s ready to drive. Just get back to the van.”

They did, going through the unmanned and open gate, and a few yards beyond to Lucille.

Sophie was there, opened the back door as they approached, her face falling as they got close enough for her to see Eliot clearly by the interior lights.

“Is he…”

“He’s alive, but barely. We gotta get to a hospital.”

“Hardison, can you find the nearest 24/7 clinic with surgical facilities?”

Hardison had been more focused on getting Eliot into the van as carefully as possible than what came next, “I’ll get on that…”

“Get on it now. I need to know where to go.”

Nate was getting short-tempered. Hardison knew why. They all knew why.

The same reason he was the one driving.

All the traumatic, unbearably painful memories of his son, dredged by seeing a part of his new family almost lifeless…

Hardison felt a pang of pain from the sharp words, which always cut deep from Nate, even when they knew where they really came from.

But he ignored the feeling and focused on gently laying Eliot’s head on a pillow.

He got out his laptop to start working, leaving Eliot’s care to Parker and Sophie.

Nate started driving, keeping the van relatively slow, “Hardison!”

“I’m working on it!”

“We need to raise his blood pressure,” Sophie said, background sound as he searched, “Check his medikit for something like a saline bag or something.”

Parker was rummaging, searching the well ordered medical kit Eliot kept, and probably disrupting the order. Eliot would be angry, and that was probably why Parker was doing it. As if it might make him wake up.

“He has a bag of saline solution,” Parker said at last, “In a box with a syringe.”

“A drip’s more normal, but we could try that? Maybe just a bit at a time…”

Hardison felt the weight of both their gazes on him now.

Eliot was the one who knew how to do field medicine.

Without him, they were turning to Hardison.

“I think it’ll work the same. But, yeah, just a bit at a time, into a vein…okay, Nate, there’s a 24 hour private clinic and surgical centre about twenty five minutes away. I’ll guide you.”

“Is Eliot secure?” Nate asked, “If you can keep him steady, I’ll make it fifteen.”

He did make it fifteen. Thirteen minutes, actually, plus an extra five for Sophie to bribe and flirt and generally grift their way in.

With the promise of more money, and more of Sophie’s attention, on the way out, the doctor agreed to help Eliot.

They just asked for him to be sewn up and brought out of immediate life-threatening danger, and then they would be out of the way. They’d ‘go to their usual clinic’.

In reality, they went to the nearest five star hotel for Eliot to recover in.

He was barely conscious when they got to the hotel, propped between Hardison and Nate fo make him appear merely drunk and avoid too many questions.

By the time they reached the suite, his consciousness had lapsed again, and none of theirs were far behind. It had been a long night. It had been a long three weeks.

“I’ll keep first watch over him,” Nate said decidedly as they lay him down and pulled the covers over him, “Everyone get some rest.”

“I’m staying up with you,” Sophie sat down on the side of the bed, “We’ll wake Hardison and Parker in a few hours.”

“Or if he wakes up,” Parker said quickly, “Come and get us if he wakes up.”

He didn’t wake up in those four hours, and still not in the first hour of Hardison and Parker’s watch.

But then, as Hardison was distracting himself by checking their tracks were covered and looking up progress of the news stories coming out about the night, he heard Eliot’s voice at last.

“Where’re we?” he rasped, already trying to sit up.

“Hotel,” Hardison closed his laptop, looking over it to watch him more closely, biting his lip as the hitter pushed through very obvious pain to get his torso back against the headboard.

Hardison really wanted to go over there and either help him or make him lie back down like he should be, what with the whole nearly having died thing. But Eliot had to be feeling vulnerable enough, without Hardison playing the doctor and hovering over him.

Luckily, Parker had no such reservations, dropping from somewhere above to land on the bed beside him, “We stopped by a clinic on the way, got you sewn up, then came here to lay low until you woke up.”

Eliot glared from her to his bandaged torso. It hadn’t just been the gunshot wound. There was that burn, there were broken ribs and a thought-to-be-fractured collarbone. Probably more that their bribed doctor didn’t have time or resources to look into.

“You need to drink,” Hardison said, standing, “Doctor said you need fluids, and a course of antibiotics. We’ve also got some Tylenol if you need it.”

Eliot nodded tiredly. He took the antibiotics and the water.

“Tylenol’s not gonna do anythin’,” he said after drinking half the bottle, adding more quietly,“What happened to the others?”

“Cops stormed the place,” Hardison showed him one of the Twitter news posts, “They’ll be in hospital by now, and the guys who took you are being charged with enough to put them away for life ten times over.”

Eliot inclined his head before taking another sip of the water.

“What was going on there anyway? We saw a fight happening when we arrived…”

“They were forcin’ us to fight. Snipers stationed to shoot if we didn’. Loser punished at the whim of the crowd.”

“Guessing you threw your fights then?” Parker gave him a look that was both fond and disapproving.

“Should’ve done more,” Eliot glared at his hands, dry and cracked and grazed, “Tried early on but it…they realised threatenin’ others worked more than threatenin’ me. From then, I…any attempt to fight out…they’d kill ‘em.”

Hardison didn’t attempt to give comfort, knowing it would only make his friend feel worse, guilty for making them concerned on top of everything else.

“Can we get you anything else?” he asked instead, bringing them back to the happy present.

“No thanks,” Eliot shook his head, and took another small drink of water, “You all alright?”

“Oh!” Parker exclaimed abruptly, and pulled his necklace off, “Kept this safe for you!”

She tugged it over his head and flattened the guitar pick on his chest carefully, smiling happily now it was back where it belonged.

It didn’t explicitly answer Eliot’s question, but from the soft smile he gave Parker, anyone would have thought it did.

-

-

And the dream:

The scenario behind the branding art was always in my mind as Eliot gets kidnapped and branded to be forced into an underground fight club, but one where he can’t really fight or the other innocent victims there would suffer. In this, they’re all kept in cells.

In the dream, Eliot was in a cell and the guards demanded he hand over a cell phone he had been using to call Hardison so Hardison could track them, so he tossed it over. Then he pulled out another phone, which oddly was like an old school flip open one, and called Hardison again. It rang twice and the guard shot him in there abdomen, then shot the phone, and left. And then there was one of those sort of time progress cut scenes (I don’t know what to call them, but where there are brief moments from different times over a long period, that cut abruptly together), following a probably not medically accurate progression of blood loss, shock, and delirium.

[ID: Sketch in black and white of Eliot Spencer in a small cage that forces him on his hands and knees, being branded with a hot iron through the bars of the cage. The red-hot end of the branding iron is the only part of the image that is coloured, and the glow reflects off the bars and Eliot's clothes. End ID]

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Day 10: Branding

Eliot in a cage being branded