#i'm not okay i knew what i would get myself into with this comm

[sugurouge]

two souls entangled for eternity

THE CHIBIS ARE MAKING ME VIOLENTLY SOB EACH TIME HE IS SO GRUMPY!! MAKES ME WANNA PINCH IS CHEEK MHMHM

[grimdarling69]

Another Dan and ellie deaged p2

Dick wasn't unaccustomed to getting calls at five a.m., but he wished it had happened less. He reached his hand out from the haphazardly placed blanket and fumbled for his ringing phone. Finally finding it, he quickly answered to the call. I swear if this is an arkham breakout, it better be the goddamn joker. He will be very upset if Tim just calls him in for condiment king.

"Hello?" He says sleepily. He winces and rubs his eyes away from the bright light of the phone.

"Dick. I need your help, Damian got spooked somehow and ran away. I'm pursuing him but i can't get him to stop."

His heart drops. Immediately awake, he jumps up from the bed and tries to find the suit pieces he threw around when he crashed last night.

"What happened?" I found myself asking, hoping this was just a misunderstanding. "I don't really know. We were down in the cave, and I guess he knocked a tool off and woke me up. I asked him what he was doing, but he didn't answer me and just ran to the bikes."

He could hear the slight panic in Tim's voice. "I'll call him."Wait -" I hang up.

I quickly dialed Babs number. If Damian left as fast as tim says he did, he probably didn't have his phone. I glance at the windows, one of my gloves is placed on the seal. Rain is still coming down hard. Thunder rumbling distantly.

"This better be goddamn joker." Me and Babs always thinking the same thing, I think fondly.

"Damian ran away, and I need you to connect me to his comms."On it now. I'm calling in the others just in case."

A click is heard, and I can hear slight wind and heavy breathing through my own comms. I hang up the call.

"Dami?" I ask hesitantly. His baby brother son was out there alone in the rain.

I hear a sharp intake of breath, but he doesn't speak. I quickly throw open the windows after grabbing my last glove. Skillfully and methodically climbing down. Throwing myself on my bike. Come on, Dami, answer me.

"Whatever is going on, you can tell me, okay? I'll help you no matter what. I promise." He meant every word.

The bike starts, and I race down the streets in chase of the tracker. I just need to make it to Gotham in time.

__________

Bruce was no stranger from his kids running away. They'd all done it at least once. It never got any better whether they were running from him or others didn't change it. He just had to remember they always came back.

Alfred watches off to the side. Making sure if i start to go down, he could catch me. I won't. A few broken ribs and a sprained ankle won't stop me. He had gotten the call in his bedroom. Alfred had finally wrangled him into sleeping when the call came through.

"Bruce. Damian fled the nest. Dick and Tim are in pursuit, but i don't think he's stopping anytime soon." Her tone heavy but focused.

He had quickly made his way down to the cave. Alfred had stopped momentarily to wake up his other son. He would be down soon.

I start to make my way to my suit, but I'm quickly thwarted.

"Master Bruce. You will be no help with might i remind you of five broken ribs, a sprained ankle, and a stab wound." Alfred told him stepping in front.

"My son is out there. i need to find him."he said with a deep voice heavy with memories. He knew Alfred was right he would only be a hindrance. He could walk off his injuries they were barely flesh wounds, but he wasn't good with emotions. He had plenty of arguments with his kids about it before. Whatever scared Damian into running, he couldn't help him.

Duke's footsteps sounded out behind him. He walked past, gancing at him concerned but determination on his face. He turned around and limped back to the batcomputer. He just had to trust his sons to bring their brother home.

‐---------

Jason was no stranger to long nights. He hadn't even made it to his safe house anyway, too busy with the storm, making sure all the alley kids had a warm and dry place to sleep for the night.

Stormy nights were the worst for alley kids. He hated them when he ws on the streets. The cold rain freezing your clothes to you, the cold rain soaking your shelters, the cold rain ruining any halfway edible food. He's seen a lot of kids get sick from the rain and die. If you were sick, you had to hide. If others found out you were sick, they'd leave you in a heartbeat. It caused a lot of fights with Bruce in the early days. He hid his injuries or sick days in case Bruce finally saw how weak he was and threw him out.

"Damian fled the nest. The rest of the batboys are already heading out after him." Oracle spoke into his comms.

The Batboys. What O had recently started calling Dickhead, Timbo, Duke, Demon brat and him ever since the batgirls left to Hong Kong together.

Demon brat, his obligation in the league. When he left, he'd assumed he'd never see him again, or if he did, it'd be from opposite sides. Sometimes, it felt a lot like opposite sides regardless.

Jason revved up his bike again he was mostly done with his people anyway. He would have to have some of his trustworthy men on the lookout for stragglers.

He pulled up his tracker to Damian. He winded through the streets following it.

---------

Crack

Thunder sounded out. Dick had hated the rain ever since... He just hated it. It was worse, so with Dami out there all alone. He didn't even know what had scared him enough to run. Damian would never run just cause what he knocked a tool over? That didn't sound like his brother son. Something else must have happened. He just had to figure out what.

"Nightwing. Report." Bruce growled into the comms suddenly. His throat felt dry. Even if he wanted to, he couldn't speak.

"SHIT!" A crashing sound loud enough to echo on the comms could be heard. Tim, dami, please be alright. He was just now reaching the Gotham border. Just hold on, I think desperately.

"Red Robin, what's happening on your end." Bruce demanded.

"Red Robin is fine. Damian deployed the bike sludge. He had to grapple backward to avoid the sludge. I think his leg is broken."

"Be careful, Signal, one wrong move with your powers, and you could light that right on up." Jason attempted to banter. Jason and his bad habit of deflecting by using humor. Something he's gotten in trouble because of before.

"We are on the warehouse that we busted yesterday with that drug deal across from Gotham Bridge. We lost sight of him." Duke ignored Jason's comment and carried on.

"Damian has stopped near gotham bridge hurry. Cameras aren't looking good."

"Oracle. Report, what do you see?" He can hear Bruce's gravelly voice tinged with desperation. Please don't do what I think you're going to do.

"I think he might jump."

The silence was suffocating.

Click.

Damians comms came back online.

"Damian?" Bruce's voice sounded distorted and echoes to his ears.

"Dami, can you hear me?" He knew he could.

"Yes."

"Master Damian, please come home." Alfred didn't beg, but he swore he could hear it in his voice.

"We can help you. Damian, don't do whatever you're planning. Please." Jason's voice was desperate.

" Please, Damian, listen to us. Let us help you."he was begging at this point, but he couldn't care less.

"I'm sorry Richard, but I don't think you can."

Click.

Crack

Lightning broke the illusion of quiet peace. The rain thundering just as loud against the ground.

-------

Jason drove as fast as he could, but by the time he and dick made it, the bike was the only thing left of his brother.

"Damian!" Dick tried jump off after him. "Dick! Stop!" "Let me go! I have to save him. Please..." His voice was thick and course. His brother's mask was starting to peel from the wetness.

"I know. I know..." He collapsed to the ground, taking his brother with him.

The headlight flickered ominously in the heavy rain.

[radiance1]

Damian landed with a small thud in the alleyway, standing up and walking forward while unsheathing his blade. It drew an elegant arc in the air, before it tips was placed at another's throat, forcing them to tilt their head upwards to avoid injury. "What do you think you are doing here?"

Eyes were peeled open slowly, and the wheezy that filled the alleyway took on a more amused edge. "I don't know, why do you think I'm here," Danny tried to tilt his head, before stopping with a wince and a sharp intake. "Can't I just visit my big bro, from time to time?"

Damian tilted his head slightly, eyes roaming over the various wounds over his brother's body and the amount of ectoplasm on the ground around him, before leaving Danny with the most unimpressed look he could make. Danny chuckled wetly, before devolving into a coughing fit, then smiling wryly. "Heh, ya got me I guess."

"Tt." Damian lowered his blade, enough for Danny to no longer have to strain his head upwards. "What brought you to this state, Daniel? Those inventors you keep around are certainly brilliant, but incompetent." Damian's eyes narrowed. "So who."

"Yea, wasn't them. Can't really do that when you're blown to smitheries, right?" Danny chuckled humorlessly, before falling silent with a pained wheeze. His head threatened to fall downwards, and his eyelids drooped. A slight press against his neck snapped him back into the waking world. "Right, right. Okay so, would you believe me if I said that a," Danny swallowed. "A government branch is currently chasing me after they found out about my half-dead status?"

Damian stared silently, then sighed. "I'm not surprised, you always were an idiot." Danny puffed up his cheeks indignantly. "Hey! It wasn't my fault this time!"

"Whatever you say, Daniel." Damian pressed the tip of his sword further against Danny's throat. "That still does not explain why you came here, of all places."

"Amity Park's compromised for me, and well." Danny gave a half shrug, or at least tried too before wincing. "This is one of the last places they would look, and I'm too," Danny gesture to himself. "You know, to go for another fly."

Damian nodded. "I can see that." Damian dissected Danny with his eyes, taking in his injuries, his ruined outfit, the blood running down his face over one of his eyes.

Hm.

Damian let out an annoyed sigh, before twirling his sword away from Danny's neck and putting it back into its sheathe. He lifted the edge of his cape. "Get in before I regret this."

Danny blinked in surprised confusion. "What?"

Damian scowled. "Get. In." He flapped the edge of his cape for emphasis, and Danny blinked again, before suddenly being hit with a wave of understanding. "Oh, oh! Really?"

"I will not be repeating myself for a third time."

"Aw! I knew you cared about me!" Danny flew into Damian's cape, leaving a trail of ectoplasm behind in his flight that was quickly taken hold of by gravity and splattered against the ground.

Damian pulled a face, because he already felt like he regretted doing this.

"Robin, where are you?" His father's voice coming from his comm snapped him from his regret. He jumped onto a nearby pipe and flipped himself up onto one of the buildings, gritting his teeth in annoyance as Danny clapped with his cape. He glanced back at the alleyway, before turning.

"On my way, father." And just like that, he was out into the night with one extra (annoying) passenger.

[thevoidstaredback]

How To Balance Your Daytime and Nighttime Activities So That You Don't Burn Yourself Out More Than You Already Have

Batman has an insane patrol schedule. Danny knew this, somewhere in the back of his mind, but it was only just settling in for him.

"You're gonna be dead tired tomorrow," he warns Dick, "You were tired for only being out for two hours longer than your new normal, going from sunset to sunrise is gonna knock you out. I can't drive, Dick, so we'll be stuck in Gotham for another day if you pass out."

Dick patted his head with a smile. "I'll be fine. I'll vene bring ya back some Bat Burger, okay?"

Danny blinked. "Bat Burger?"

"You've- You've never had Bat Burger?" Louder, he called to Barbra and Tim who'd just come back from wherever the Cave entrance is with a comm for Danny, "Danny's never had Bat Burger!"

Barbra gasped dramatically. Tim clutched ay imaginary pearls. "You've never had Bat Burger?!"

"That sounds like an exclusively Gotham thing, and I am decidedly not from Gotham."

It was quiet for another moment as the three stared at him. Finally, Dick blinked. "Have you always been Midwestern?"

"As far as I know, why?"

His head tilted slightly to the left. "Your accent just seems..."

"Much more prevalent." Tim finished.

"Yeah, that."

“I don’t know what you guys are talking about. I’ve always talked like this.” A lie. He was hiding his accent from everyone so that tracking him down would be ever so slightly harder. Danny shrugged, “Right, Barbra?”

She shook her head. "No, you leave me outta this. As far as I know, you've sounded like this the whole time and these two are only just picking up on the accent."

Good job, Danny. Gaslight, Gatekeep, Girlboss your way into their hearts.

"Anyway," Barbra continued, holding her hand to Danny, "This is a comm. It'll keep you patched in until we come back up to the manor after patrol. If you get tired of us or when you sleep, just take it out and put it on your nightstand; we'll take it back down in the morning for you."

"Are you sure you don't wanna come to the Cave?" Tim asked.

Danny shook his head, the comm now sitting in his left ear. "Mister Wayne already hates me, I'm not gonna go into his space. Besides, I'm already intruding as it is."

"I just don't want you to be bored."

"It's alright, I'm sure I'll find something to occupy myself with while you guys are out. And, isn't the whole point of me being on comms so that you guys can talk to me?"

"You're right," Dick agreed, "We'll see ya when we get back."

"Alright."

Occupy himself with? Yeah, he's going back to Bludhaven. Another problem he just realized, though: How is Bat Tech going to react to/around Phantom? Danny figures he has about two minutes to figure it out or he's gonna have to bench himself for the night.

There was no one around, so he ducked into the nearest room to transform. It was a quick lightshow, as always, but not enough to draw attention of anyone passing by.

Except Alfred. Alfred probably knows.

Alfred won't tell Bruce, right?

Right?

Probably not.

Hopefully.

Focusing on the comm revealed no static, though there was no sound either. Was someone trying to talk to him already? Hopefully not. That'd be upsetting.

There was a soft crackle before: "Danny, can you hear us?"

Phantom allowed a small smile of victory. "Yeah, loud and clear, Barbra."

"Call me Batgirl right now, okay? Tim's Robin, and, as you know, Dick's Nightwing. And, if you really need him, Bruce is Batman."

"Got it."

"We don't use real names on comms," Robin said, "Do you have something we could call you?"

That's probably a fish for what his hero name used to be. All three of them - Tim, at the very least - were hung up on the 'not anymore' of his denial and it really showed. He could make it easy and tell them to call him Phantom, but he really does not want them finding out his childhood right now. So, "Tutelary."

"'Tutelary'?" Nightwing asked.

"It's Greek," Batgirl said, "Tutelaries are deities or patrons of protection."

"Aw, that's cute," Robin cooed teasingly, "But you aren't doing much protecting from the Manor."

Phantom - is he really ready to give up that name? - blushed green, "Shut up. Protection Spirits are a big deal where I'm from!" Yeah, meaning most people don't actually think they're protecting them, but who really cares about technicalities?

"And that would be..?" Batman spoke up, his voice coming out much more 'gargle glass' over the comms than was probably intended.

Phantom smirked. "The Midwest." Limits options, but not specifically but he figured he could throw them a bone. Though, that's the only one he's giving Mister Wayne.

Speaking of, "I'll try not to be a distraction, Mister Batman sir, but I won't make any promises."

Nightwing, Batgirl and Robin were all sniggering. Batman was quiet for no more than a few seconds. "Stop getting distracted; We're leaving."

"Yes, sir!"

Phantom listened closely, focusing on the Cave below the Manor. Batman and Robin had gotten into some kind of assault vehicle-race car mix and were driving out into Gotham Proper quickly. Nightwing and Batgirl were both on motorcycles, leaving out a different way but just as quickly.

"Have fun out there, you guys."

Nightwing laughed, "We'll bring ya back some Bat Burger."

Part 15 Part 17

Real quick, before you move on, a quick Thank You to @bianca-hooks123 for the idea for Danny's name Tutelary. I hadn't even thought of using that until it was suggested, so thanks <3

[mcromwell]

Genuine question, sorry if it's dumb -

How do you work when there's something on the line? I find I freeze, and it's just so much more difficult to properly organize myself to produce something I'm proud of. But you've been to conventions, and you sell your work, so I'm assuming you feel pressure at least *sometimes.* do you work with it? Around it?

Hey Tymbul, it's not a dumb question, it's actually a really good one. I can only answer it to the best of my own abilities, in regards to my own art and practice, so mileage may vary.

This feeling of something being is "on the line" was what burned me out hard in 2019/20. I'd been making and sharing art for decades and all the while my thoughts took the shape of, "it has to be GOOD, it has to SAY something, it needs to hit X and Y requirement to be worthy" etc. Wherever that habit of pressuring myself came from, it wasn't helpful. I would glare at the blank page and curse every sketch I made because it (and by extension, myself) wasn't ever good enough.

I knew something had to change, so I changed. I began trying to make art with no pressure. Instead of pushing myself I let my foot off the brake. I changed the way I talked to myself about art. "I'm going to make this as good as I can. And if I can't, there's always next painting." I began starting a piece with fast, easy, not-precious stuff--random paint smears, doodles, gesture sketches. The pressure was off when all I had to do was start with trash and play around. If it just wasn't working and I had to scrap it or start over, oh well, it was just trash. I still run into this pressure today, though. Growth ain't linear and all that. Old habits die hard. I have to snap myself out of it with a feral screeching JUST THROW PAINT ON IT RRRRRRRRGH and I can usually let up on the brakes enough to get it going. It's a journey.

I like to think of this in terms of dog training. If you punch your dog and yell at it, that dog is going to have fear and doubt and won't be a healthy dog capable of performing the tasks you ask of it. But if you use positive reinforcement, they develop confidence and become dependable and sturdy. If you sit down to make art and every time its a barrage of IT HAS TO BE GOOD! YOU HAVE TO BE PROUD OF IT! EVERY NEW PIECE HAS TO BE BETTER! IF IT ISN'T YOU'LL BE A FAILURE! WHY AREN'T YOU DRAWING YET then man, that dog is cowering in the corner, it is not going to sit or fetch or anything. What if instead you said, "Okay! Time to make something. Let's do warm-ups and thumbnails to prepare so I'm ready to jump in. I am open to surprising myself by making something I'm excited about, but I won't beat myself up if today isn't that day. I know by doing this I'm practicing and getting better, it is never a waste." You are much more likely to Do a Thing if that thing feels good to do. That's just being an animal, man. Positive feedback.

To be honest, though, I still haven't found a successful way to make commissions less like pulling teeth. My method of art-making is to fuck around and find out and that's not a conducive method for a comm, which usually has a ton more expectation and strict parameters and my nemesis: Should-Look-Like. I am good at some things, I am not good at comms. Progress is not linear. I am still learning. My efforts to let up on the brakes made it so the car was a lot harder to control... for better or worse.

Hope this helps. Mostly, my advice is to find out how making art can feel good to you and then make a ton of it. Make more art than you think you should. It gets easier. And don't punch your dog.

[emonydeborah]

trektober day 23: first kiss/lockdown

spoilers for SNW 1x10 and 2x02

"Sorry, Captain, the protocols are buried pretty deep." Chris leaned his forehead on the side of the turbolift.

"Can't you beam us out?"

"Negative, Captain," Spock reported.

"The point of the protocols is to keep biocontaminants from spreading," Joseph explained. "They're pretty pointless if you can just beam out."

"That's great, Doctor, except that there are no contaminants," Una said. She paced the length of the turbolift, arms crossed.

There was a slight pause, presumably for everyone on comms to decipher her tone. "We're working on it. M'Benga out."

"Well, I guess Captain Batel is going to have to wait," Chris sighed. He slid down the wall and sat on the floor, long legs taking up half the space. Una nearly tripped over him as she continued to pace. "Sit down, Una. We might as well get comfortable."

"I'm fine, sir," Una said through gritted teeth. Chris frowned.

"We've been in tighter spots than this," he said. "Literally. What's got you so antsy?"

Una looked down at him, and he blinked. He hadn't seen that appraising expression in years, but he knew what it meant. She was deciding whether to trust him or not.

"If I'm right," she said slowly, "about why Captain Batel is here, this isn't going to look good. She'll think I'm avoiding her."

"What? Why?" Una maneuvered around his legs and continued to pace. "Why do you think she's here?"

"To arrest me." Air froze in Chris's lungs. Una reluctantly met his eyes and grimaced. "I turned myself in, Chris."

"What?! Why would you do that? Why didn't you tell me?" Chris shot to his feet. "They wouldn't dare- Pike to bridge, send Captain Batel and her officers back-"

"Belay that," Una said firmly. She grabbed Chris's arms. "Chris, I've always known this might happen. At least this way it's on my terms."

"They can't just abduct you off my ship!"

"Chris." She squeezed his arms, grounded him in the moment with her. "It's okay. I'm ready for this fight."

"I'm not!" Chris burst. "You belong here on Enterprise. The loss to the crew- to me-" Something shifted in his brain, like puzzle pieces falling into place. He looked down into Una's eyes, knowing he was about to lose her, and suddenly everything was painfully clear.

He glanced at her lips, and Una's breath hitched. He leaned towards her, slowly, so slowly. She tilted her head and stretched up to meet him, and that was all the confirmation he needed.

He kissed her, and it was fervent and desperate and she tasted like strawberry lip gloss. Her arms slid up around his neck, pulling him closer, and he went willingly, anything to be as close as possible.

They only broke apart enough to breathe, chests heaving together, Chris's forehead pressed to hers.

"That was nice," Una said quietly, with the ghost of a smile. "Terrible timing, though."

"Better than never at all, right?" Chris said. He wrapped his arms around her waist, anchoring her to him as best he could. He kissed her forehead because he could do that, he wanted to hug her and kiss her and make her dinner and kiss her and take her riding and kiss her-

Una made a contented humming sound, and Chris's thoughts hurtled back to the present. "I'm not letting this happen," he promised, and Una pulled back to look him in the face.

"I turned myself in, Chris," she said gently. "I knew this would happen. Please respect my choice here." Chris met her eyes and found nothing but certainty. His shoulders sagged, and he nodded.

"Then I'm getting you out," he said firmly. "I don't care what it takes."

"I do." Una took his face in her hands and made sure he didn't look away. "Don't ruin your life for me, Chris. At least," she continued when he tried to protest, "stay within the law." Chris frowned, and Una quirked a smile. She pulled him into a second kiss, softer this time.

"Spock to Captain Pike." Una's face fell, and Chris sighed.

"Go ahead, Spock."

"The protocols have been satisfied, Captain. The turbolift will resume shortly."

"Understood. Thanks, Spock."

The floor jolted underneath them, and Una peeled herself away to fix her uniform and smooth her hair. Chris tidied his own appearance and watched the transporter deck slide closer and closer. Una flexed her fingers and bounced on her heels, and in the few seconds they had left, Chris took her chin and drew her into one last kiss.

He took her hand and didn't let go, even when they got to the transporter room. Together, they stepped through the doors.

[aprillikesthings]

OKAY last one tonight

and it's a doozy

s5 ep5 Save the Cat

I always wonder if people get the joke in the episode title? There's a famous book about writing scripts called Save the Cat. I kind of assume at least one person in the writer's room for She-Ra has actually read it.

Also Daci got me Strawberry Oatly (vegan ice cream) hell yes

LET'S DO THIS

eek

she tells them she's alone??? hm

oh the others were clinging to the outside of the ship in space suits lol

roll intro

okay Entrapta and Bow are gonna fuck with the computers and Glimmer is gonna find Catra

god it must be weird for Glimmer to be on the ship again???

WHOOPS

okay so Adora tells Horde Prime: hey you're gonna let me leave with Catra okay?

"The Heart of Etheria. And if you don't do what I say, then I'll use it...and destroy you and your empire for good."

"You would never risk the safety of your Catra."

(Ever noticed he always says this? Your Adora. Your Catra.)

Adora: "You don't know me. And you don't know what I'm capable of." Horde Prime: "Oh...but I do." Horde Prime: "I am old, far older than you can imagine. My brothers lend me their life force, and when one vessel fails me, I simply elect another."

(Like a Time Lord but WAY creepier)

"There is something so...familiar about you, Adora."

"Not since I faced your ancestors, and crushed their once-mighty empire beneath my heel. You call them the First Ones. And you are one of them, are you not, Adora?"

AUGH

Meanwhile Entrapta thinks she's spotted her boyfriend

She's got the little chip she gave him ;_;

(maybe?)

not good!!!

ARROWED

BAHAHAH oh right that's how this guy starts. Anyway this poor clone is panicking because the jolt removed him from the hive mind

he starts SOBBING. "how will Horde Prime see my thoughts?? how will he know I am faithful???"

but then:

Entrapta: "Can you open this door?" He does Entrapta makes a happy little squeaky noise

Entrapta: "But we broke him! We're responsible for him now. Pluuuus, he can open doors!"

He says he'll take them to the server room, and Bow gives him his nickname of "Wrong Hordak" lolol

Glimmer went back to her old cell, and Catra's not there

And that's when Glimmer realizes their little earbud comms aren't working

Horde Prime: "I thought the First Ones were all gone, but clearly...some faction remains. That race of tyrants...abandoned you on a forgotten planet in a shadow dimension. They made you their weapon, their...She-Ra."

I mean, it sounds bad when you say it that way (because it is, actually)

Adora: "I don't fight for the First Ones. I fight for my home, for myself, and for my friends. Now for the last time, where is Catra?"

oh, god

augh

he's not...wrong

Horde Prime: "As she would've said, 'You are so very predictable.'"

eeughghg

AAAAAAAAAUGH

I knew this was coming, I knew it was this episode, and it still makes me want to crawl out of my own skin

SAME ADORA, SAME

NOOOOO

Horde Prime: "I have made her anew. I saw her mind...so ensnared in grief and rage and pain...and I brought her to the light."

(okay but if he saw into her mind did he see all the times Catra thought about kissing and/or having sex lol)

Adora's absolute horror here is so relatable

Adora: "Catra, you have to fight it!" Catra: "My place is with Horde Prime, Adora. I don't want to leave." Horde Prime: "Tell her what I've done for you." Catra: "Prime has given me peace. Something you could never do."

"But he has made it whole again."

"I'm happy here. You could be happy, too."

(It's genuinely hard to rewind this to get decent screenshots because hearing/seeing Catra act all weird with the chip is just SO UNCOMFORTABLE)

And there we see it--the first hint that Catra is actually being actively tortured and forced to say/do this shit like some kind of sentient puppet, having to experience her own body doing/saying these things without her permission. Her eyes even keep twitching.

Horde Prime: "I will give her to you, if...you want her... But first, you must do something for me. You...will give me She-Ra." Adora: "Never." Horde Prime: "Very well."

He snaps his fingers and everyones in-ear comms shriek with static and electricity

(okay I gotta stop just copy/pasting the script)

He squeezes poor Catra's neck and for a second her eyes go back to normal, she looks at Adora, and then they start glowing again. Adora notices!!

aaagh look at poor Catra

but yeah Adora can't bring out She-Ra on command right now (and he knew that)

UGGGH

OH SHIT THAT'S RIGHT oh god oh fuck

okay so Glimmer's in the trophy room thing and she kicks the ass of a couple of clones, that's cool

but also

"I know you're still in there. I'm not leaving without you."

Catra gets a good slice into Adora's leg

Adora: "I don't want to hurt you!"

AND I'VE HIT THE IMAGE LIMIT okay hold on

[ai-luni]

could I request a drabble or hc for hesh taking care of a sick or injured reader? ty :)

I'm here now

David "Hesh" Walker x Reader

A/N: Don't mind that I write drabled in a bullet point format, it's just so much easier. This is a bit short but i want to do a seperate hc for a sick reader because domestic Hesh>>>

Word Count: 1k

Warning: Canon-typical violence, minor angst

You were out on a mission, making your way to evac, weapons hot. You were closest to Logan taking cover. You kept a close eye on Keegan and Hesh across the room. You only had 2 minutes and one more room to clear. The mission successful, everyone was feeling good and no one had gotten injured… yet.

That was until you saw Keegan and Hesh make further progress ahead of you. Taking your chance, you covered Logan as he ran to the next piece of fallen furniture. You followed soon after but not quick enough.

A bullet shot onto your vest and into your right thigh, While not feeling the pain yet, you still stumbled in open fire. It caught everyone’s attention. 

“Kid, you okay?” You heard Keegan speak in his comms. In the blink of an eye, before you could even pull yourself together and answer, a large figure appeared in front of you then on the floor. 

“Y/N WHAT ARE YOU THINKING, TAKE COVER NOW!” It was Hesh’s voice yelling at you as you ran to cover beside Logan. You’d left your gun in the middle of the room, Logan firmly held you back from retrieving it. He held you there until you were notified to continue.

“Room’s clear. Logan - .” Hesh’s voice ran through your comms once more. You were confused, concerned. Hesh sounded off. The mission was almost over but he sounded more and more frustrated, “it’s too late to get a medical evac. Logan, carry them if you have to, just get 'em out of here.” 

Logan gave you a curt nod, waiting until you responded for him to continue towards the door. He would check behind him constantly to make sure you were close and still on your feet. Shots had since seized but you held a small dagger in your hand incase. 

The moment you entered the room, Hesh was by your side and holding you still. The dagger long forgotten on the floor now. 

“Dammit Logan! Their bleeding all over the place!” Hesh had raised his voice, Logan knew not to take it to heart. He’s dealt with a frustrated Hesh his whole life, called it ‘older brother syndrome’. But if Logan knew how to examine you the way Hesh did, he’d be just as concerned. 

Hesh knew you well, well enough to notice your steps growing more and more uncertain. When he pulled your balaclava up, your reactions were slower and less definite. Your eyes were lidded and pupils dilating and contracting, left eyelid twitching. Mouth dry and breathe getting shorter and shallower.

All of this was so subtle, subtle enough not even you were concerned. But he has watched your face under most situations - when you were happy, sad, filled with adrenaline, love, pleasure, sorrow, rage. So he took extra caution to keep you, listening to even the smallest red flags if he had to. 

His gloved hands were on your face, holding your head still by the jaw. Keeping you steady on your feet and pulling at your cheeks to check for any cuts. 

“Hesh, I’m fine. I can move and I can walk myself to a stupid helicopter. It’s just a bullet.” Your attention was focused on what you thought was the sound of a helicopter in the distance, so much so that you failed to notice the rippling blood down your suit and the horrified look on Hesh’s ghost painted face. 

“There's a knife in your shoulder.” 

You almost didn’t believe him for a second and just scoffed at him, shoulder jolting forward at the action. It was then you felt it. In the muscle just below your left collarbone.

At the sharpest pain you would ever feel in your life, you didn’t scream. Your eyes widened in horror as you looked down at the handle. 

From there you barely walked yourself at all. Hesh carried you with extra care onto the helicopter. He carried you with extra care off to seek medical attention. He sat as close as he could to you at all times, in the same room, outside the door. He only left once to wash and change but he was yet to gain an appetite large enough to pull him away from you. 

When he came back, he walked into the room they were keeping you to find you sat upright, topless with a strapped shoulder and thigh. You looked exhausted but so did he.  

“How are you feeling?” He asked cautiously. He moved slowly, vigilantly watching for any movement you would make. 

“Never better.” He let out a sigh of relief. You were still you. He sat next to your bed as close as he could, the two of you sharing a comfortable moment in silence. The past 24 hours being so hectic that pure quiet almost made you hold your breath. Breaking the silence you said, “So... that was scary huh?”

He let out a chuckle you could barely hear but saw it from the shrug of his shoulders. The light nature of the room changed as he began to shake his head, hung low and avoiding your gaze. 

“I should’ve been with yo-” 

“No.” You interrupted him and he leant back in his chair, shifting uncomfortably, narrowly missing your stare, “Hesh no. We’re not doing this.”

You reached your arm out to hold his chin, guiding him to finally meet your eyes. His eyes were glossed over and starting to spill.

“Are you?” you let out a defeated sigh, every bit of frustration built up from the whole cliche situation drained out of you, leaving only the love and adoration you held for this man standing strong, “Oh, sweet boy. Come here.”

He climbed onto your cot, head resting on your chest as you grazed your fingernails over the stubble of his buzzcut. He listened to your heartbeat - the reassurance that you were alive and with him - while allowing himself to drift into an almost conscious daze. 

“This is our job David. We both know it and we both know that completing the mission comes first. To promise to each that we’ll always be safe would be stupid. But I can promise you will always have my love and that will have to be enough.”

“I can’t lose you like my dad.” he sobbed. You only held him tighter.

“I know. But I’m here now.”

[gizmocrate-werecrow]

What to do when you are a leafling: my annoying friend.

(Ah the dilemma of wanting to Write more olimin chapters and wanting to write corps chapters.)

Dingo watched as the S.S. Beagle flew away alongside the onion. Pom offered him to come along with her but it just wasn't his thing. Dingo could feel a smile crawl onto his face as he walked away. 

DANDORI DANDORI DANDORI! WE SHALL ALWAYS DANDORI AND–

“SHUT UP!” Dingo screamed, everyone, even Shepherd, looked at him in shock. Dingo cringed to himself and could feel the thoughts subsiding once more. He silently prepared himself as Erma walked up to him. Dingo started to run. He climbed onto a rock and started to cry.

He could feel the thoughts coming back to him in a blast. Nothing but Dandori, he had to organize and save time, he had to…

“Hey? Are you okay Dingo?”

Dingo looked around and picked up Jack.

“N-no. I made a fool of myself. How come i seem to be the only one to resist the…well…the thoughts”

“The Connection meant to be like your comms man. We talk to each other and relay messages. So we can cooperate and survive. It's meant to keep us alive.” Jack chirruped. They held the toothpick with happy noises and did a few stabbing motions.

“Wait a moment, does that mean the Dandori thing isn't normal?”

“Dandori thoughts is a normal thing but at this strength. Does this mean someone is messing with it?” Jack said and tilted their head in curiosity. 

Dingo let out a long sigh. The thoughts slipped into his mind again. Begging him to simply do Dandori, find a cave, find a bunch of Pikmin and be a Dandori practitioner. Maybe he should give up…yeah that sounded great to do…Dandori…he should Dandori all the time.

“Dingo? If you’ve got any problems, let me know.” a voice said. Dingo could feel himself blush again, it was Erma again, what should he say? He looked up to see Erma’s lovely blue eyes. He could feel the Dandori thoughts slip away as he looked at her.

“I’ll let you kn-kn-know.” Dingo managed to stammer out before he felt faint, no he should keep himself awake. No screw it! He needed to tell her, he needed to tell her everything!

“You want to know what happened to me. I’ll tell you, it all started when Bernard and I crashed in a place with giant pink flowered trees.” 

–

Bernard wandered around the camp in a daze. The thoughts in his head he knew weren't his. But no matter how hard he tried, it seemed he couldn't reel them into his own sanity. Dandori is fun and the most efficient way to live life. If others were like him then maybe he would have not crashed. He never crashed in his life until now. 

“Santi…friend…why don't we…when the ONION lands…you get someone…and let them embrace DANDORI!” Bernard declared.

“Why–” Santi started

“Because if we make them embrace DANDORI…we can save everyone…if I did DANDORI earlier…the ship…wouldn't crash.”

Santi raised an eyebrow, as annoying as Bernard was, this was completely not his thing. 35 years of dealing with, avoiding and getting annoyed by Bernard has made him familiar with the positive ace pilot. 

“Bernard, are you okay?” Santi said with a hint of hesitation in his voice while light chittering began to echo in his head.

“I'm fine SANTI, I crashed the ship...I…” Bernard started, he hugged Santi tightly. Soft sobs began to sound from the pilot. Santi quietly dragged Bernard away from the general area around the base and to the rock. Oleander was sitting there and kicking their legs while Santi sat Bernard down. 

“Who is that?” Oleander said, coughing a bit of poison out.

“My rival…It’s okay…You can talk to me…Like you always do.” 

“Can you play your flute…for me?” Bernard weakly asked. He looked up with a smile as Santi took the frost covered flute out of his pack. Santi took a deep breath and began to play. Soft music danced around the air, bewitching the ears of those nearby. The thoughts in his head seemed to slip back into only his own. The soft whisperings of Dandori now seemed like a bad dream rather than a horrible reality. Bernard looked up with some sense of a smile on his face. 

“That…feels a bit better….I don't know what came over me.”

“No worries Bernard we’re…ack…Best friends after all.” Santi said with a pained smile that had a hint of warmth to it.

(my idea is that even though Santi finds Bernard annoying due to the whole fate thing. He still cares for Bernard…a little. While Bernard sees him as a genuine friend.)

[bigbadbatch]

In My Head - Chapter 5

I'm back! I have been holding off writing this because, well, you'll see. I wasn't in the headspace for it.

Warnings: Violence, Death, Mourning.

Word count: 2.3k (short bc sad)

Listening Reccs: My Tears Ricochet and The Prophecy by T. Swift.

------

My Tears Ricochet

Days passed.

Then weeks.

Months.

I’ve gone four months with no contact from Rex at all. Not a holo, not a call, not a secret message. The closest I’ve gotten is quiet assurances from Fives. These every-other-week ‘briefings’ were my tether to the two most important people in my life. At first it was all business, Skywalker standing behind him, observing. But after the second transmission he seemed to have lost interest. Fives and I can be ourselves again.

“We miss you, Keira. Both of us.” Fives mumbles as we wind down the latest brief.

“I miss you. Is Rex, is he okay?”

Fives gives a small shrug and that’s all I can get on the topic.

“Does he just not want to talk to me? I feel like surely he could have reached out somehow. Fives, you can tell me.”

Fives shakes his head and sighs. “Mesh’la. If only you knew.” 

He looks around and leans his head closer to the camera of the comm. “Things are going down. We’ve all been busy but something’s not right. Master Tiplar was killed by one of his own men, a clone. I’m on Kamino investigating now but… Keira I have a bad feeling about this.”

“You’re on Kamino?” I ask, interested.

I could go to Kamino. It could be a coincidence. I could see them- could see Rex. 

“Not for long. If what I’ve learned so far is true this is much bigger than I originally thought. Keira, I’ve been having nightmares. All us clones always have, but its different now. As a Jedi, maybe you understand." He says.

I nod, dismayed, not really paying attention. Looking back- I should have paid attention.

“Just be careful, Fives. Any idea when Skywalker will let you come home?” 

Fives shakes his head. “You don’t understand.”

Before I can say anything he switches off the comm and the holo goes black. 

—

I spend the next two weeks anxious, which is only worsened when Fives misses our usual briefing call. The Jedi Temple had made an announcement about a possible assassin targeting the Chancellor, and that the perpetrator was on the run. That’s probably the reason for the disconnect. Everyone’s on alert. My holo beeps and I all but launch myself across the room.

Flicking it on I call out, “Finally, Fives, I was really worri…”

Fives isn’t on the holo.

It’s Rex.

My breath hitches in my throat at the site of him. He’s lost the smallest bit of weight. A new silvery scar rides up his neck. 

“Rex?” I ask incredulous. I’m expecting a heartfelt reunion, an explanation for not communicating this whole time, something, but all I get is a desperate-

“Where’s Fives?”

I shake my head. “What do you mean?”

Rex grits his teeth. “I know he’s on Coruscant. I know you’re the first person he would go to. Keira, this looks really bad for him but we can help, just let us help.”

This doesn’t make any sense. “Why would Fives be here? He isn’t with me, tell me what’s going on.” Then it all makes sense.

The announcement. The assassin.

Rex explains as best as he can as I grab my things.

“I’m going out to look for him." I say. "I’ll have my comm. If any of your men make a move at him I will defend him. He deserves a fair trial. Something about this isn’t right.” Rex nods and the screen darkens. 

---

The dark streets of Coruscant are packed with clones. Clones at the bars, clones on leave, clones on watch, on duty.

Clones looking for Fives.

I pull my hood low and let my heart lead me. The Force pulls on me with a steady tug, guiding my way. My intentions are good and my soul is desperate, and the Force rewards that. I make my way down the damp streets until my heart pulls me to an alley way, then a storage hangar.

“Fives?” I whisper. “It’s me. It’s Keira.”

A dark shape steps from behind a crate, hands raised in surrender.

“I knew you’d find me.”

I rush to hug him, all assumptions of his offenses forgotten.

“Fives, you’re okay.” I breathe. He hugs me tight to him, and I feel a wetness on my neck, where his face is buried. He’s crying. 

“You found me, you found me. We have to get out of here. We have to warn the General and Captain. You have no idea what I’ve uncovered.” Fives is… twitching. Eyes searching, heart racing.

He looks like he hasn’t slept in days.

“Fives, I’m here. You’re safe.”

He grips my shoulders hard. “You have to listen to me Keira, you have to believe me. We… you. You’re in danger.” His breathing is ragged, and suddenly there are footsteps behind me, and Fives eyes widen and he pulls me behind a crate.

“Fives, we got the coordinates you left for us.” Anakin calls out, lightsaber blazing. Rex is close behind, pistols drawn.

“Thank you for trusting me. Have you come without troops? Can you lay down your weapons?” Fives calls.

They do.

“We’re alone.” Anakin yells into the void of the dark hangar. I give Fives' hand a squeeze.

“I’m going to meet them. Make sure they’re here to help. Do you trust me?” I say softly, but he claws at my hand.

“Stay!” He whispers, but I make my way out into the open and raise my hands.

“It’s me.”

Rex makes a move to run for me but Anakin throws an arm across his chest.

“Keira! What are you doing?” 

“Fives isn’t well.” I say quietly. “He needs a medic, not an arrest warrant.”

Rex nods. Anakin steps forward, Rex following and I walk to meet them in the open. “We are here to help you Fives. Come with us back to the Temple…”

Then there's a ringing in my ears and instantaneously theres a force field around us. Anakin punches the force field shouting “No! Fives!” But we are locked in. Fives steps out.

“I just need you to listen to me! I’m not crazy!” But he starts to ramble.

“Plot.”

“Deception.”

“Proof.”

Anakin shouts back, “Show me the evidence!”

And I am so lost, confused, even frightened at this point. I back into Rex on instinct, and he grabs my hand. I hear ships cascading outside.

“There’s a plot. Each clone has an organic chip in our genetic code. Someone can make us do whatever they want, even kill the Jedi. It’s all in here.” He hits his head furiously and I stifle a cry. “The chancellor wants to kill me. He knows what I know.”

Theres boots on the ground, the sound echoing around us. Fives backs up to us, to the force field. His eyes lock on mine.

“You have to believe me.” He whimpers and I nod.

“I believe you Fives, I do.” I press my hand against the force field.

It's too late. Coruscant guards, their red armor casting an ominous shade onto the walls in the dim light of the force field, weapons all aimed at Fives.

“Get on your knees! Stand down!” They all shout but Fives panics.

He’s a good soldier.

Always has been.

He reaches for a pistol. And before I can scream, before I can witness the death of my best friend, Rex grabs my shoulders and turns me to him, burying my head into his chest.

When the shots ring out, I still scream. 

—-

I light a candle at the makeshift altar in my quarters for Fives.

Fives didn’t get a funeral. Traitors don’t get funerals.

That’s what he’s known as now. Not a man who was ill. Not a man who needed help. A traitor to the republic he loved. It isn’t fair. I wipe tears from my eyes. I should have noticed it, seen it sooner. In our briefings, with every transmission he was more frazzled, more afraid. I could have stopped this in time if only I had paid attention. But I was too worried about seeing them, and hearing from Rex.

The Rex who hadn’t contacted me all these months- but still the Rex that held my weeping body as Fives took his last breath mere steps from me.

The Rex who’s knocked on my door every day for a week since we lost Fives.

I haven’t let him in. How could I? On Chandrilla everything was perfect, then it came crashing down in a way I can’t yet understand. 

Right on cue a quiet tapping emanates from my door. Normally I sit in silence until he leaves.

“Keira.” He calls. “Please.”

I stare into the flame of the candle. I see Fives’ smiling face. Fives and Rex fooling around in 79’s. Fives and I playing sabaac with Rex helping him cheat. They were brothers, and Rex was hurting just like me. I needed him, and he needed me. I stand and open the door. 

Rex’ face is startled. “You uh... actually opened the door.”

I say nothing and step to the side, inviting him in. He enters cautiously. His every move is calculated. This feels so wrong, us being like this. So distant. My heart wants to leap into his arms, brush away the tears I know are waiting to spill down his face.

My head wants to push him, hit him, scream at him. How could he leave me alone? For months? He’s broken Anakin’s rules before, why not now?

Numbness from indecision creeps in and I walk past him and sit on my bed. I can’t look at him.

He’s Rex, but his face?

That’s Fives face. And both hurt to look at right now.

The bed beside me dips as weight falls onto it, and his warm body brushes mine. We sit in silence, staring at the floor. I can’t help it, the tears begin to fall.

“Cyare.” He breathes and his hand reaches for mine. I pull it away and push myself further down the bed, away from him.

“Don’t.” Is all I can manage as the tears really begin to roll. He’s hurt, I can see it in his eyes.

“Please let me help. Please let me explain. Just let me in.”

I cross my arms, my head winning out and anger building. I jump up and pace the room. He stands too.

“Rex.” I half sob, half growl. He takes it as an invitation and steps close to embrace me, but I push him away. I don’t mean to, it just happens. He puts his hands up.

“It’s okay.” He whispers. “You can push me. Hit me. Hate me if you have to. Just let me help.”

My fists are clenching at my sides and I feel the anger building up inside me, swirling and twisting, aching in my bones. He’s stepping closer. I don’t want to hurt him, but the dark, the dark side of the Force boiling inside me, tensing my muscles and it screams for release.

“Get away from me.” I plead but it’s too late. Rex holds my hand and the seal breaks.

With a scream I aim all of myself at the towering bookcase behind me. The room shakes and Rex is knocked to the floor. With an implosion, the case shatters, the books disintegrate, and the small flecks of paper cascade around the room, fluttering down like snow. I sink to the floor sobbing.

My head in my hands, strong arms wrap around me and I’m pulled to Rex’ chest.

“I’m sorry.” I sob “I’m so sorry. It’s my fault. It’s all my fault.” I turn in his arms to bury my face in his chest, the two of us curled into a ball on my papered floor.

“None of this was your fault, mesh’la. None of this was anyone’s fault.”

I wrap my arms around his neck and sob into his collarbone. 

“It’s my fault you were sent away in the first place. I didn’t notice Fives needed help til it was too late.” Rex smooths my hair and makes soft, shushing noises. “They took you and you didn’t... you never talked to me Rex. You left me here alone and you didn’t even try to talk to me after everything, after that night.”

He sighs. “I wanted to. More than anything.”

I sit up and wipe my eyes. “Then why didn’t you?”

He smiles softly at me. “The General made some statements to me that night in Chandrilla. Some out of anger, but some true. I can’t keep you from reaching your potential as a Jedi. I can’t be a threat to your future as a Knight, as a Guardian. I would never want to hurt you Keira, in any way. I was scared. I still am.”

I cross my legs on the floor across from him. “You aren’t allowed to make decisions for me without my consent.”

He hangs his head.

“I’m a Jedi. I’ve fought alongside you and your men. I can make my own decisions in battle, and in life. Don’t you dare take that from me again.” He nods and our eyes meet for the first time.

We both take a breath. We both begin to cry.

“Did you notice, when he started getting bad?” I ask.

“He was having nightmares.” Rex says.

I fold my hands in my lap in silent prayer. “Do you think he was hurting?” I ask, voice wavering.

Rex moves to be closer to me and tucks a strand of hair behind my ear, then wipes a tear from my cheek. “No, mesh’la. And I think he is finally at peace.”

My soul breaks at this and I am sobbing again. I can hear Rex crying too. I reach for him and his arms fold around me, pulling me close. We sit there. We cry. And when we have cried our fill for the moment, I lift my eyes to find him staring at me. We are so close to one another our chests rise and fall in rhythm. His lips part. “Mesh’la...” 

And I don’t respond. 

I kiss him.

[sansloii]

Name: Hollis! ( though, i go by Marshy as well and have for about 6 years )

Pronouns: she/they

Preferred comms: discord because tumblr ims are questionable at best. i also uninstalled the app because of how often it would just randomly crash for little to no reason so.... if you want to reach me, disco is the safest bet

Name of muse(s): I have eight wonderful creatures of varying temperament. Batch 1 was Mikah. Batch 2 was Penelope, Wynn, Evan, Dakota, and Joseph. Batch 3 was Roderick and Andris. I also am working on fleshing out Vega properly but he's not quite done yet.

Experience in RP: in about 2012-ish, i was into f.andomstuck and i had an oc for that until like.... 2014-ish? it was baby's first blog and i didn't really know what I was doing. I had fun, while it lasted, but i also knew some of the people in this community ( like they went to the same high school as me ) so any issue we had on tumblr would translate into lunchroom confrontations. I didn't enjoy that part so much and my interest for it fizzled out by the time i graduated. then, i jumped over to the fire emblem fandom and made an oc for fire emblem awakening! i think i stayed in that rpc until 2016/2017 and i had two ocs, a mother and her son from the future, that i still very much adore. there were ups and downs and i feel like i was taught.... multiple frustrating lessons during my tenure there. it did help me develop my writing a lot and i have to say that i'm honestly better off having taken the chance to do it.

lastly, i ended up here in 2017 and i'm not leaving. i also have another massive oc blog i'm slowly reworking but i'm trying not to stress myself out lol.

Best experiences: it's very difficult to put specific experiences into words because most of it, for me, is vibes. my best experiences have been interactions and plots with people that I not only get along with but like... you know--we understand each other. like if i decide that i'm not going to rp on tumbles for a month and maybe just stick to headcanons, i can do so without fear that you think i'm wasting your time. or that we can pick up where we left off and it's okay if you respond to the months old thread you had with me. or! we can just stay up until the wee hours of the morning talking about ideas or blorbos or getting really into a discord rps. like it's the vibes that i can come to you like a fart in the night with a gifset or image like "hey this is our muses" and, likewise, you can do the same with me.

to those of you who i vibrate at the speed of light towards at any given moment, you know who you are. thank you for being patient with me and giving me the space to vibe with you :)

Pet peeves / dealbreakers: i feel like every time i open my mouth about pet peeves i have, i sound like a crotchety old person that always has something negative to say deep down ... but w/e. it's my soap box.

i've noticed that since i've come back, it feels like i have to be the one that's chasing some people for interactions or plots more often. or like. right out the gate, they wanna jump from A to Z and be best buds and whatever so we can speedrun everything. or... i'm expected to or have to do most of the work because they're quite literally doing none of it after expressing interest. and like some of that isn't inherently bad! i'll be the first to admit that if we're friendly enough and progress something enough to where it's like... an established thing? we can have something going faster than the speed of sound after that. we can have multiple ships, a dedicated au, a whole slew of worldbuilding shit together and i won't care because i know said person on some level. and that took time + a whole slew of back and forths.

however, it doesn't feel great to express that "hey i want to plot something but it'll take time and like... if we're shipping on top of that, it'll take double that amount" and watch, in real time, as that person just... eventually leaves you on read. and/or just doesn't interact with your content anymore. and i can tell the difference between being preoccupied/ having not great week/taking a break from tumblr entirely/being slow and being put on a shelf/ barely acknowledged very clearly. i shouldn't have to feel like i'm competing for a slot or something, which is the vibes i got sometimes and ( as you would expect ) didn't like.

this isn't directed at anyone i'm currently following, ofc. i know i am not perfect but i also know that i am an extremely patient person, which is how I want to be treated. It's very frustrating to try and try and try again only to get the bare minimum from people i genuinely wanted to interact with. but c'est la vie--such is life--and i move on. i, like many others, have limited time to be on here and if something doesn't bring me joy after a month, two months, three months, I'm more than willing to part with it. there has to be effort on both ends in some way and if you want me to pat your ass, pat my ass too.

Muse preference ( fluff, angst, smut ): you cannot make me choose. now, does that mean that I write them all in equal amounts? certainly not. but it really depends on my mood. sometimes, all i wanna do is talk about soft moments. other times, i want to put my muses in a blender and watch them process what's happening to them. occasionally, i'll let them roam free and be as horny as they like. the key is to always cycle through the three so you don't get burnt out on any one of them.

Plot or memes: uuuuuhhhh it depends? plots are my fucking jam and i like having a general storyline to follow when writing and then figuring out the little details when we get to them. it's a long process but i enjoy the wait and the buildup more than i enjoy air so djsfdvdfvd--

buuuuuut i also think memes are a valueable, valueable springboard into interactions. and plotting straight outta the gate can be intimidating for some. plus, if you want to plot but your head is empty atm, finding and sending memes with the same vibe as the plot point you wanted to discuss is helpful! i'll admit that i'm not great at sending in memes but it's not for lack of wanting to. it's more not knowing what to send and picking a muse to send along with it that trips me up. Plus, not being here most of the day tends to mean i miss a lot of meme reblogs orz

Long or short replies: long replies but i do trim them shorter or rewrite portions of them. sometimes, i will write what i deem to be "too much" for a reply ( e.g: my partner has like 350 words and i'm sitting at like 625 words ) and i'll go back and edit it down to 450-500 if i find stuff that doesn't really move anything along or is just needless padding.

Best time to write: it used to be late night but i pass out too often for that to be effective anymore ( because of my sleep schedule for work ), so i tend to favor late mornings and early afternoon. if i'm writing late at night, it's because i didn't have time during the day to do so.

Are you like your muse(s): n...not really in most cases. like we share some traits here and there but for the most part, my personality, sense of style, and morality deviates from most of them.

tagged by: @rexpyre tagging: @arcxnumvitae @gunrising @royaletiquette @nezumivc103221 @bonesofchaos and anyone else that wants to.

[carsonian]

stony prompt: trapped together while of them is injured, tropey goodness! :D

Forced myself....FORCED MYSELF to do a drabble. Hope ya like, Jen! <3 Other prompters, I'm making my way over to you!

Transcendental Blues on AO3 | 1,177 words | Rated G

“This is fine.”

Tony’s voice was edged with the frantic tightness of a desperate man trying to convince himself he believed what he was saying.

“I agree.” Steve said, swallowing back blood.

That didn’t seem to relax Tony at all; shoulders rising high enough that Steve was able to detect the plates of the armour moving with it.

“I’m sorry.” Steve said.

“This is not your fault.” Tony bit out. He was standing, body turned away a little as he finagled the comms.

“Bad call.” Steve said. It was getting harder and harder to talk; some gnarly combination of blood and phlegm crawling up his throat, making him desperate to keep his mouth shut lest it all come spewing out.

He pointedly didn’t look down at the rebar.

“You know, considering that you’re about as stubborn as a goddamn mule about your calls normally, deciding to pick now as the moment to go—” Tony breathed out petulantly, “Not the time. Anyway.”

He came back to Steve’s corner, gravel and blood underfoot, settling down on the floor next to him. Tony looked waxen; pale and worried, and what startled Steve more was how little he was doing to disguise any of it.

Tony was honestly terrified.

“Hi.” Steve’s voice was closer to a rasp now.

“Conserve your energy.” Tony urged, voice low, “I’ve sent out an S.O.S. to every comms network I’ve got the codes of, but I don’t know when it’ll get through to the team.”

“They saw the. . .”

“Shh.” Tony said, “I know, I know, they saw the explosion. But—we’re in a time crunch.”

“Heh.” Steve managed. “Time crunch” was a very Tony Stark way of describing the current circumstances: rebar through Steve’s torso, his left leg under a pile of debris heavy enough that he couldn’t lift it himself, and the only other person who may have been able to lift it—Tony—had scraped himself out of a decimated Iron Man suit.

“You okay?” Steve rasped. He’d never seen the armour crumple the way it had when the building collapsed. Tony’s yell had struck off true heart stopping panic in Steve’s own chest. And that was before the rebar had even made its way through it.

Tony gave him a put-upon expression, “Shut up.”

“. . .Distract.” Steve said, the word more of a sigh than anything.

Tony got the meaning of it, and he shifted a little, “Well. Would now be a good time to talk about our relationship?”

Steve couldn’t afford to laugh; he really didn’t have the breath for it. But his head lolled forward in helpless amusement and then Tony was there, letting him brace his forehead against his shoulder. And that, that was nice.

Below sweat and fear and blood, there was the faintest tinge of musky cologne. It bolstered him, reminded him of the solid strength of Tony in a suit, of the way his lips curved mischievously up when he knew he had someone by the balls (literally or metaphorically).

Steve breathed in and out, tried to acquaint himself with the pain.

“I hate this.” Tony whispered, “I hate seeing you like this.”

“Sorry.”

“Don’t be.” Tony pressed a kiss to the side of his head. “I just. . .it freaks me out. When it’s you.”

“Rather. . .”

“No—no, don’t say that. I’d rather it was me.” Tony hushed him when he tried to muster up a strong enough denial. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, let’s not—let’s just—you just rest, okay?”

“Mm.” Steve sighed, froze after, “Puke.”

Tony managed to move away just in time.

“Jesus fuck.” Tony said, “That’s—there’s blood in that.” He propped Steve up, drew his sweaty strands away from his face and rubbed his thumbs against Steve’s temple. He watched with bleary eyes as Tony moved back to the Iron Man suit, yanking one of the gauntlets open and then—and then—Steve was having a hard time keeping his eyes open.

He must have made some noise, some wretched animal sound that betrayed his exhaustion, because just before his eyes gave up on holding out, he met Tony’s earnest, heart-stricken face as the man scurried over to him.

The last thought Steve had before he fell unconscious was a remorseful, I wish we hadn’t fought.

.

Steve woke up and immediately wished to return to unconsciousness.

“No, it’s fine. You’re okay.”

His lips split when his mouth parted, and he breathed in shallowly. It felt, for just a moment, like there was an asthma attack burgeoning in him. And then he got through the tightness and his lungs expanded reassuringly.

“Tony.” His voice was steady, if not a little dried out.

“Yeah?”

“I don’t remember.” Steve said.

“. . .Oh. The building collap—”

“No. I don’t remember,” Steve swallowed, and spared a thought for how long it would be before they let him brush his teeth, “What did we fight about?”

“Don’t worry about it.” Tony said. Steve still couldn’t get his eyes open, but he didn’t particularly want to, and he exhaled in a long, winding breath. There was the slightest whistle to it.

“I don’t remember.”

“It’s okay.”

“No, Tony.”

“I’m sorry, alright? We don’t need to talk about it—”

Steve couldn’t figure out how to inject the right amount of need into the words, to make it obvious how much he wanted to talk, for Tony to remind him what it was—what it was that had Tony pull away from Steve, that had Steve make the wrong call out of frustrated distraction, that led to all of—he begged, “I don’t remember.”

“. . .I do.” Tony said, “Do you want me to tell you?”

“Yes.”

He could feel the serum working in a slippery feeling close to placebo, healing him from the inside out. And then there was Tony, sandwiching Steve’s hand between both of his, rubbing the top of it slowly—and that was healing too, from the outside in. Hearing Tony’s voice, wholly uninterested in a fight, recall their disagreement with soft but clear words. Steve loved him for the fact that even now, he didn’t try and muddy either of their points; let the sharpness stick out without drawing needless attention to it.

“It was a bad call.” Steve admitted. His head was feeling a little clearer; wakefulness felt less and less like a mistake. “Going for the bomb first.”

“Yeah. It was.” Tony agreed simply, “And I was riding you too hard about the Brooklyn nest.”

“You were.” Steve said, and with less effort than he’d thought it take twenty minutes back, he opened his eyes.

And Tony was right there, with him. As he had been, for all of this.

“Thank you.” Tony said, and it felt like a mirror trick, like he’d pulled the words out of Steve.

“I meant to say that.” Steve said.

Tony’s smile had just a bit of mischief, colour returning to his cheeks, “I know.”

“Me too.” It didn’t quite make sense, but it felt true enough, and as Tony’s smile widened, slanted; he knew Tony understood it too.

[kennyomegasweave]

Shipper Tag Game

I was tagged by @foralleternityidiot! Thank you!

1. What ship were you completely obsessed with when you were a teenager, but now you don't care anymore? Christian/Sean from Nip/Tuck. Letting them go was the first step in me trying to free myself from the demon that is Ryan Murphy and his shows.

2. Which ship would you consider your first one? Eric/Jack from Boy Meets World. I shipped them before I even knew what shipping was. You couldn't tell me shit about them and you still can't. They were, are, and always will be in love. You will never change my mind.

3. Your first fanfic belonged to which couple? So I didn't get into fic until WAY late, like 2008. Which is weird cause I was on message boards and in so many LJ comms, but I just didn't read it. Keeping that in mind, it was Phlochte. I'm not proud but I'm not as embarrassed as I should be. If you knew anything about those two back then, you'd get it okay. lol

4. Do you remember the first couple you saw a fanart over? I don't actually. I still don't seek out fanart, so I'm not surprised I don't remember the first one I saw.

5. Did you ever get into ship discourse? I still have anti-delena and anti-stydia tags on old posts on this account sooo...lol. But I was never in the inbox, messages, comments, or posts of people who actually liked those ships! People just came to me to fight when I would post my hate posts on my own account.

6. Did you used to have any no-otp or have it currently? The previous answer answers that, lol. But I don't have any currently. I've hit the point where if I love a ship that's not happening and/or I hate the main pairing, I tend to just peace out. I only ever had NOTPs cause I wouldn't quit shows, but now I'll drop them. I keep up with my faves through gifsets with no need to actually watch the show.

7. Who were the couple in the last fanfic you read? WangXian. I finished the show in four days and read all five books in five days. I have been OBSESSED for like a month.

8. Currently, do you have any OTPs? I will never not have OTPs, lol. Current: CaptainKeen, CharlieBabe, NorthSonic, KhemThongthai, WangXian, Buddie All time favorites: Stelena, Scallison, Matt/Elektra, Amy/Rory, Ian/Mickey, Spashley, TeamWin, PalmNueng, PrapaiSky, Brittana, Pacey/Joey, DeanCas, Graham/Megan, Amy/Lucy Diamond, Webgott

9. Is there any couple that, to this day, you are extremely mad about not getting together? Of course. I have more noncanon ships than canon since gay ships really just weren't happening back in the day. I also have several ships that got together but broke up, which I think also answers this question. The biggest will always be Shane/Carmen. It's been 18 years since Shane left Carmen at the altar and I'm still mad.

10. Is there any ship you used to dislike but now you think they are kind of interesting? I'm watching Playboyy and I didn't give a shit about AobPuen and I didn't really care about PromNont but now I'm invested in them both. AobPuen got me in literally one episode. PromNont became intriguing when Prom gave Nont the gun and then it's just built from there.

11. Do you have any ship that, in the past, was considered normal but now you would be cancelled over? I watched and loved Love Syndrome III in 2023 so obviously I have hella ships from the past that would get me cancelled. I regret nothing.

12. What was your favorite crack ship? I honestly think I've only ever had one crack ship and that was ChanBig and it went from laughing online to "I am fully pretending this was actually happening and Chan and Big are fucking in the sky now, thank you, god bless" in record time.

13. Who is the couple you read more fanfics of? This isn't a fair question since a lot of my ships just don't have fic written about them. But I'm currently all up in WangXian fic.

14. What most of your ships usually have in common? I tend to like ships that are ~unhealthy~ ~toxic~ and ~problematic~. No regerts.

15. What do you absolutely hate in a ship? Just not talking to each other. I don't need them to agree, sometimes even on anything, but they have to talk. I don't care if they yell, fight, punch each other, whatever, as long as they talk. I don't like miscommunication because of that either. Because if you're actually talking, there's not miscommunication.

Tagging the last five people in my notifications: @theflagscene, @loudspeakeer, @beaucadeau, @bunnakit, @deepbutdazzlingdarkness Feel free to do it or not, no pressure! It's all for fun! <3

[bourbon-ontherocks]

unfortunately all of [gros canard]’s scenes (in this ep at least) are tainted by his turning violent during that one interrogation. it’s like they flipped a switch without a warning. et on tombe dans la caricature, comme tu disais… I knew they didn’t make david’s character sharper than your average suspect for nothing, and I figured it was for the dinner party, but turns out they were just setting him up to be the perfect outlet for anger and jealousy--il fallait un mec à l’air coupable et capable de balader la police. which makes it really hard to pretend that scene was simply some bad, ooc writing. (could’ve been different if there had been amends of some sort afterwards, when the guy is released… and tbh céline should’ve suspended him for real) bref roxane called it, [gros canard] est un flic border 🤷

now everything he does or says, I’m just like… yeah. wouldn’t expect any less from a grade A scumbag. and the GALL to stare at morgane and the end and leave without a word, as if to say ~you’re dangerous and I’m removing myself from the situation? that’s ice cold. and buddy, you’re the dangerous one here, if you can’t be normal around your crush or your antagonist of the day then take a fucking hike. 😡 pardon mais ça me débecte tellement cette fin ! I feel bitter. anyway. rant over.

(je note au passage que c’est la 2e fois que morgane se fait ~quitter dans cet épi 🥲)

Okay. So now we're getting to the unfunny part, and while I definitely didn't like this scene either, it might be for different reasons, or at least for me it didn't paint the rest of the episode as bleak as it did for you 😨

So. Adam's outburst of violence this ep felt clearly ooc, I agree, and especially considering what we've been given so far re his behaviour at work and in general. However, I gave it a lot of thought, and while it definitely does not add up with the image we have of him, it might not be *so* OOC from the show's point of view. After all, we've already seen Adam doing ooc stuff out of the blue, starting with kissing Morgane at the end of 208, and perhaps he's one of these people who bottle up their feelings and are in control 99% of the time but just happen to ~snap once in a while.

In that regard, his snapping after days of anger and jealousy (that he's unaware of) slowly building up makes sense, although not necessarily in the way they set it up, and not to such a dramatic extent. I'm not excusing him for what he did, just saying that from a characterization point of view, it *can* tie up not so terribly.

Now my problem with that scene has more to do with its setup than whether or not it makes Adam less likable. This was a textbook example of police brutality over an innocent Black suspect, guided by personal motives, but was never addressed as such. If the show was actually trying to make an extremely disturbing statement, they wouldn't have done better. I mean, Adam could have fought David during the dinner party for instance, it wouldn't have changed his own jealousy arc, but that would have made things much more palatable imo than him attacking his antagonist while on duty and during an interrogation.

In a more general way, I feel like the show has flipped a switch regarding violence and action this season that wasn't really called for. We went from des enquêtes pépouzes in early seasons to hostage situations where guns fire (depuis quand c'est la PJ qui gère ça d'ailleurs ? Il y a pas des équipes spécialisées ?), and I've never seen Adam's weapon more than during this season, so I guess this is all part of a more global agenda of darkening the show and the characters (I bet Audrey is missing her Engrenages era... But at least they had the decency to film police brutality in a smarter way back then 🥲)

Ngl, it makes me sad that you're now calling Adam a grade A scumbag 😭 I'm not gonna say he's got excuses for acting like he did, and like I said before his characterization this season is terribly written, but also I get where he comes from even though he's clearly hit rock bottom this episode... I mean, had he been a tad more self-aware these past 4 eps, we wouldn't have had to endure his surprised Pikachu beardless face upon discovering that Morgane dating someone else actually hurts him, nor would he have acted like a complete asshole. Sigh. What I'm trying to say is that for me this was more of a one-time fall, no matter how despicable he got, rather than a complete redefinition of who he is. At least I want to believe in that 🥲 (and send him to an anger management support group asap 😅) even though violence, possessiveness and jealousy are massive red flags imo 💔😰

I'm going to assume that his entire personality and set of, you know, human skills, was actually stored in the beard, because now that I'm thinking about it, it's mostly in the beardless episodes that he's acting nonsensically... Please Beardie come back! 🥹 Oh and I agree with you that Céline should have gotten him suspended! 100%! That's time-out for grownups and it would definitely have done him some good lol!

Now for this final scene of silent treatment with Morgane, I have a slightly different interpretation? At this point in the ep, Adam has gotten uncontrollable, violent, angry, and Céline rightfully reminded him that this is not the kind of behavior she wants to see in the team. I think it's the turning point when he finally connects the dots and realizes where all this rage comes from. He's finally admitting that he has feelings for Morgane (hence the 'we need to talk' to Roxane -> just saying, but if he dumps her next Thursday he'll definitely be the biggest asshole in the history of assholiness btw), but since he's still down that jerkland rock bottom, he puts it on her. He's sort of mad at her that she made him catch feelings that are clearly ruining his perfectly rounded little life, and that's, imo, the reason for his silence and closed face, and while that's still not cool, it's not exactly the same as the way you interpreted it.

Now, this will be a hit or miss, but there's a fic out there that actually explores Adam's violence during this ep by making it worse, and while it is based on this ooc premise of a scene, the execution actually makes a lot of sense and brings an interesting light to his characterization (also it is resolved in an extremely satisfying way lol), so perhaps it will be a cathartic read for you, idk! Anyway if you're interested, it's Rouge by PlumeDeChien

This post got super long so I'll spill over the next one to talk about Morgane's break up, okay bye!

[artdecosupernova-writing]

Word Prompt

Word: Low WIP: WASTE Timeline: directly leading into the events that result in Scotty being implanted into Guetry's brain CW: drug abuse, alcohol abuse, death, injury, overdose, bad choices Word Count: 748 Additional Notes: I'm still not sure if this is going to be exactly how it goes down, but either way, it's something similar

***

I could almost hear the enraged French spitting at me as my father started hissing the moment I stepped through the door to my apartment. Only he wasn't inside, he was probably all the way on Earth somewhere in the south of America, unaware that I'd just been discharged from a Node hospital with nothing to show for my self-aggrandizing heroics than an arm covered in third-degree burns and the memories of several dying venevan children.

I hadn't smiled in six weeks.

I don't even think I remembered how.

Darkness felt comfortable, so I kept my lights off, patiently listening to my dad swearing at me up and down in a beautiful mix of French, Texan epithets, and whatever he picked up from the younger entrepreneurs on Mars. All in my head, of course. Yes, Dad. I'm bête comme mon pieds, and come hell or high water I'm gonna get my brain blown through a comet's ass. For sure.

The first of the gin splashed down the back of my throat and I nearly threw it all up immediately. It was as if my body knew what was coming, but I had to stop the guilt. The raw, crushing guilt, my god, it was so heavy.

I didn't know how to cope with the faces staring at me behind my closed eyelids, the innocent little faces I tried so desperately to save on Veneve, and I fucking tried. I really, really did. I tried to save them, and then I tried ignoring it, I tried pushing it to the back of my mind and blasting some music through the entire apartment, tried jumping jacks to shake it out of my brain, tried playing cards to pretend it never happened.

But it happened. Those kids, those children…they didn't deserve it. God, they were so small, and they had no one, and I told each of them I loved them before they couldn't hold on anymore, but it's never enough, it's never enough...

Before I could really take stock of my actions, what was left of an open bottle of gin had disappeared down my gullet. I opened a brand new one and crushed a bunch of reaver rock with the cap in my ceramic mortar. Gray crystals broken down into a salt consistency, dumped into my pipe, and lit up with a plasma lighter, and my goal was clear—forget. Get high as fuck. And forget.

The gin stifled the annoying headache that usually accompanied a reaver rock high, and I realized I'm a fucking genius right around the time I realized my fingers were going numb. Oh, shit, Guetry, don't go too far, but maybe a little more to choke out the snickering demon whispering that you roasted your right side to a crisp and have limited mobility for absolutely nothing in your ear. He's gone, but you'd better do a little more to be absolutely sure he's gone. Okay, a little more than that won't hurt.

Dancing around the living room, smoke clouding the ceiling, dark patches on the carpet from where I spilled gin trying to open it, spots of blood on my shirt from trying to snort some of the rock I crushed into powder because I thought that it would hit faster, feeling pretty damn good about myself as time went on.

I did my best in everything I did, and that was all I could ask for. Those kids got to be held in their final moments. I went around to every single one of them in the hospital, ignoring my own pain, told them I loved them, and held them. I told them I was sorry. I'm so sorry.

I am so sorry.

Neon lights from the city outside filled the whole apartment through my open blinds and I laughed at the shuttles flying around, colors blending together and sounds giving way to a gradually increasing high-pitched whine.

My tongue started to swell. It felt like thousands of little beetles had decided to burrow inside of it, crawling around and trying to empty into my skull through the roof of my mouth, so I had to remove my tongue. It had to go. God, how annoying. I liked that tongue.

Try as I did, I could not pull my tongue out, but the whine was now loud enough to hurt and the edges of my vision began to darken and cold sweat soaked through my clothes and I couldn't feel my legs and

[pabulumm]

PUTTING THIS SO THE TEXT WILL GET BEHIND THE DAMN CUT

idk what a healthy response would be to being, like, ghosted or left on read etc

like maybe if you're secure enough in yourself, you just give them the benefit of the doubt. "must be busy, hope they're okay" but when more time passes and there's nothing...then what? because my mind goes to "it was me, i wasn't funny enough, i knew i shouldn't have said [xyz] that was so stupid." like that's probably normal to a degree- but only to a degree. especially since i even think this way with, like, my sisters. who i KNOW are not on their end of the phone rolling their eyes or bashing me. (...probably.)

idk but it happens so often on the dreamwidth rp scene that i almost feel like i need to quit for my own sanity. i had posted on one of those comms where you're looking for rp partners and someone responded to me with a character i was looking to play with. great! amazing! we took it over to private messages to hash out what we wanted to thread. their last message to me was basically "i'm excited to thread more with you!" (it turned out we'd threaded before with other characters)

and then nothing. it's been over a week now, when previously they had been responding within a day. and, like, i hope they're okay, but my mind is already bracing to see them around tagging other people. i'm going to wonder why this keeps happening and i'm going to blame myself.

i don't have a lot of money these days, and this hobby is basically the only free, semi-social activity i have left. that's probably a large part of the problem. idk what to do about that though. idk. sucks to suck.