#lighting this room was hell 2: electric boogaloo | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

tinydefector · 2 months ago

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Who's portal is this? 2

DC X DP X SPIDER-MAN

[Decided I was working on and editing this instead of dealing with my emotions over finding out what happened to my mum and over the fact I legally still can't talk to any of my friends over it]

Word count: 5.7k

Warnings: swearing, mention of wounds, mention of death.

Masterlist

______________

The tension in the warehouse was thick enough to cut with a knife. Constantine still looked like he was trying to process his entire life’s choices, Peter was glaring at anyone who moved too close to Danny, and Batman stood silently, his imposing figure casting a long shadow across the summoning circle.

"Alright," Danny finally said, breaking the silence. His voice still carried that layered, eternal echo, but his tone was casual. "Can I come out without you guys freaking out? Because, like, I could’ve escaped this thing five minutes ago. But I’ve been too baffled by this whole ‘Pariah Dark booty call’ situation to bother. And I'm pretty sure he's bleeding out” Danny states while pointing at Peter

Batman’s gravelly voice cut through the bickering. “If you could’ve escaped, why didn’t you?”

Danny gave him an incredulous look. “Uh, I just said why. I was baffled, Stunned this feels like the Electric boogaloo part two ” He gestured vaguely to the summoning circle. "Also, this thing you guys slapped together? It’s not exactly Ghost King-proof. I mean, it’s good, don’t get me wrong—it would’ve probably stung like hell to break through it earlier, but it wouldn’t have actually held me. It’s like trying to hold a bear with spiderwebs. Annoying, sure, but not impossible. No offence Spiders"

Peter makes a noise of offence followed by Constantine groan, muttering something under his breath about how he hated kids.

Danny rolled his eyes. "Look, I’ll make it easy for you. I promise not to destroy anything, melt anyone’s face off, or turn Gotham into a ghost dimension. Just let me out, and we can all chill. Deal?”

Batman stared at him, his expression unreadable as always. After a long, tense pause, he gave a single, almost imperceptible nod.

Danny grinned. "Cool. Thanks, creepy Gothman." With a casual step, Danny walked out of the summoning circle like it wasn’t even there. The sigils flared for a brief moment, sparking angrily, but Danny seemed unbothered. His aura dimmed as he left the circle, and in a flash of green light, his older, regal form disappeared.

In his place stood a very unimpressive 16-year-old kid in a black T-shirt, jacket and jeans, his hair now messy and black, his eyes bright blue with a green shimmer to them. He shoved his hands into his pockets, rocking back on his heels as he looked around the room with the kind of awkward energy only a teenager could pull off.

"Ta-da!" Danny said, grinning. The silence that followed was deafening. Constantine’s cigarette nearly fell out of his mouth. Batman’s stance shifted slightly, just enough for anyone who knew him to see that he was recalculating everything he thought he knew about the situation.

Peter, on the other hand, looked completely unbothered. "Yeah," he said nonchalantly, “Fun, right?" His jaw clenched as he tries to move, his shoulder aches like no tomorrow and at this point all he wanted to do was sleep off his injuries from before this mess.

Constantine blinked, pointing at Danny like he was trying to make sense of a bad joke. "Wait. Wait, wait, wait. You’re the Ghost King? You’re a bloody child?!"

Danny frowned, crossing his arms. "Okay, rude. I’m sixteen, thank you very much. And technically, I’m only half-ghost."

Batman’s voice cut through the chaos like a knife. "Explain."

Danny shrugged, his casual demeanor making it clear that this wasn’t the first time he’d had to explain his situation. "Alright, fine. So, hi, my name’s Danny." He raised a hand in an awkward little wave, like he was introducing himself in a high school classroom. "When I was 14, my parents—who are kinda nuts, built this weird ghost portal thingy in our basement. I decided it’d be a great idea to mess around with it, and, well…" He gestured to himself. " tada! Half-ghost."

"Anyway, long story short, I spent the past two year fighting ghosts, saving my town, blah blah blah. Then, a while back, I accidentally dethroned Pariah Dark. don’t ask, it’s a whole thing and now I’m the Ghost King. Which, honestly, is way more responsibility than I signed up for."

Constantine rubbed his temples, looking like he was on the verge of a breakdown. "So, let me get this straight. You’re a 16-year-old half-ghost who somehow became the ruler of the Infinite Realms because you… what? Got lucky?"

Danny grinned. "Pretty much!"

Constantine groaned, looking at Batman. “You’re hearing this, right? It’s not just me?”

Batman’s expression didn’t change. "I’m hearing it."

Danny clapped his hands together, clearly trying to move things along. "Alright, now that we’re all on the same page, can we focus on the important stuff? Like the whole ‘us being stuck in your horror city thing? Because I’d really like to get out of here before Mr. Soul Whore over there starts trying to sell pieces of himself again."

Constantine bristled.

The bright, sterile light of the Batcave flickered faintly across its rocky walls, illuminating the room in a pale glow as Alfred worked with calm precision on Peter’s injuries. The young man sat on the edge of a medical table, his spider suit pulled down around his waist. His face was a mess—black eye swollen shut, cheeks scraped and bruised with pieces of concrete and glass shards in bedded, and lips still lined with dried blood. His body wasn’t much better.

His torn suit had shown a litany of injuries before it had been pulled down: fractured ribs that had already started showing the deep purple, green and yellow bruising up hid torso, the nasty red handprint of a chokehold bruising his throat, burn marks left by an explosion, and countless cuts and lacerations. The most pressing concern, however, was the bullet wound in his dislocated shoulder.

“Ow, ow, ow!” he hissed, pulling his arm away instinctively before Alfred gave him a stern look.“Hold still, please,” Alfred said firmly. “I can’t help you if you’re squirming.” as Alfred pulled the bullet free with a pair of forceps, the sound of metal hitting the small surgical tray echoing through the cave.

He exhaled sharply as the butler pressed a clean cloth to the wound to staunch the bleeding. “It’s better out than in, young man,” Alfred said softly, his voice calm but tinged with concern. “Though I must say, you’ve been through quite the ordeal.”

Danny leaned against the edge, his expression softening slightly as he took in Peter’s battered state.

“You look like crap,” Danny said bluntly.

“Thanks,” Peter deadpanned. “You’re a real ray of sunshine, you know that?”

Danny grinned faintly, though it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “You gonna be okay?”

Peter shrugged, wincing slightly at the movement. “I’ve had worse.”

Danny gives a small nod before ghosting away over to where Constantine stood impatiently waiting for Danny.

Alfred’s lips pressed into a thin line, his expression betraying his worry. His hands moved with expert care as he cleaned the wound. “This is far more than just another day, young man. You’re concussed, your ribs are clearly fractured or broken, and you’re covered in burns, bruises, and lacerations. Frankly, it’s a miracle you’re still conscious.”

The butler begins readying a needle and thread so that he can stitch The bullet hole closed. “Forgive me this will hurt, I don't currently have local anaesthetic on hand. Do hold still, young man,” Alfred apologies as he begins the stitching process.

Peter winced but didn’t argue. “It's fine, it wouldn't help anyway, and you don't have to stitch it, it will seal itself in two days, I have an enhanced healing factor” Peter explains but it doesn't stop Alfred.

“And give your injuries the chance to get infected, not a chance” He knew Alfred was right, despite having enhancements it didn't stop Peter from getting sick, and he knew if he got an infection it would be hell having to cut it out again. It makes him shiver remembering the last time he had to cut out infected flesh.

His Spider-sense was still buzzing faintly at the edges of his mind, a constant reminder of just how close he’d been to death tonight.

“I’m almost finished.”

“Feels better not having the bullet grinding against my shoulder every time I swung,” Peter muttered through gritted teeth. His voice was thick with exhaustion, and his words slurred slightly from the concussion. “But, uh, yeah… still hurts like hell.”

Alfred gave a small, dry chuckle as he worked. “I imagine it does. Though I must say, I’ve seen soldiers in better condition than you after a battlefield skirmish.” His tone betrayed a trace of worry, his sharp eyes scanning the young man for further injuries.

Peter didn’t respond, too focused on managing the pain and the throbbing in his head. He winced again as Alfred moved to examine his ribs. The bruising spread across his chest in ugly shades of purple and yellow, and every breath came with a faint wheeze.

“This is unacceptable,” Alfred muttered under his breath, though his words were clearly directed at someone else. His sharp gaze flickered briefly to where Bruce stood a few feet away, stoic and silent as always. “This boy is barely standing, and yet you brought him here in this state? I thought better of you. This young man is barely standing, and yet you saw fit to fight him as if he were one of your rogues.”

Bruce’s jaw tightened, but he said nothing, his arms crossed as he watched from the shadows. He knew better than to argue with Alfred when the butler was angry, and right now, Alfred was rather angry.

Peter tensed slightly, his good hand clutching the edge of the table as his gaze flickered toward Batman. He still hadn’t forgiven him for the fight and, frankly, he wasn’t sure he ever would. Batman had outmaneuvered him, taken him down like he was nothing more than a common thug, and Peter’s pride still stung almost as much as his injuries.

he knew that if he hadn't been through dealing with all the villains that had ended up in his world, then being thrown about by the portal he had jumped into, swung halfway across a city with a bullet in his shoulder he had dislocated, and then getting slammed into a wall by Batman before spun up in his own web. He winced when the older man took a cautious step closer. He knew if he was in a better state he would have whooped the goth furries ass.

Peter, despite his condition, couldn’t resist shooting Bruce a glare. He tensed visibly when Batman stepped closer, his entire body going rigid like a cornered animal. “Don’t,” Peter snapped, his voice sharp despite the hoarseness in his throat. “Stay the hell away from me, we’re not friends.”

Batman stopped in his tracks, his expression unreadable beneath the cowl. “I didn’t have a choice,” he said, his voice calm but firm. “You were a threat.”

“A threat?” Peter scoffed, glaring at him with his one good eye. “I wasn’t trying to hurt anyone, man! I was trying to protect Danny. He's been the only thing I've had since I got thrown into this hell hole, so forgive me for not asking questions when you trapped him”

Batman didn’t respond, his silence only fueling Peter’s frustration. Alfred, however, gave a pointed look at his employer before turning back to Peter, his voice softening once again.

Peter’s shoulders slumped slightly, though he was still visibly tense. He muttered something under his breath, his gaze dropping to the floor as Alfred resumed his work, carefully stitching the bullet wound closed.

---

Danny and Constantine’s argument had been steadily escalating, their voices growing louder with every passing second. The two of them were standing by one of the Batcave’s many monitors, their gestures wild and exaggerated as they bickered.

“Would you shut up for five seconds?!” Danny snapped, his glowing green eyes narrowing as he threw his hands in the air. He was back in his human form, looking every bit like the irritated teenager he was, but his aura still flickered faintly with ectoplasmic energy. “Look, Cults do crap, that's kinda their gimmick, there's not much I can do about it, I'm still learning how to keep my Core from spinning out of control! There's only so much I can do, you should be grateful you got me and not Pariah!”

Constantine scowled, jabbing a finger in Danny’s direction. “mate! You’re the one prancing around as the bloody Ghost King, drawing attention from every creep and cultist this side of the multiverse. You think I wanted to deal with you? Hell no!”

“Oh, so it’s my fault for being a baby ghost. you’re apparently the guy everyone in the Infinite Realms calls ‘Soul Whore’ why don't you go sell another piece of yourself ” Danny shot back, crossing his arms.

“You little—” Constantine cut himself off, taking a deep drag from his cigarette as he muttered a string of curses under his breath. “Listen here, kid. I don’t care what kind of fancy crown you’ve got floating over your head or how many ghostly kingdoms you rule. You’re still just a snot-nosed brat playing dress-up—”

Danny’s aura flared, and he took a menacing step forward. “You wanna say that again, John? Because I don’t think I heard you the first time.”

“Boys,” Alfred called out sharply from the medical table without even looking up from Peter’s wounds. His tone was clipped, the kind of calm authority that immediately demanded obedience. “If you’re quite done arguing like a pair of schoolchildren, I’d suggest you find a way to help this young man and yourself get home.”

Danny and Constantine both froze, exchanging sheepish glances before muttering simultaneous, reluctant, “Sorry.”

Peter snarls again when Batman takes another step into the small medical area Alfred had set up to treat Peter, the young man bares a tiny set of fangs at him.

Bruce paused, his unreadable gaze meeting Peter’s. It wasn’t the first time he’d seen someone react to him with hostility, but there was something different about the way Peter looked at him. It wasn’t just anger, it was defiance.

“Calm down, mate,” came Constantine’s voice from the background. The magician was leaning against the Batcomputer, a cigarette dangling from his lips despite the faint protests from the Batcave’s air filtration system. “You’re alive, aren’t you? That’s got to count for something.”

“Shut up,” Peter snapped, not even looking at Constantine. “I don’t want to hear it from you, either.”

Constantine raised an eyebrow, taking a drag from his cigarette. “Touchy, aren’t we? Must be the concussion talking.”

“Can you guys take your argument somewhere else?” Peter grumbled, his voice dripping with irritation. “I don’t need a commentary track while I’m getting patched up.”

Alfred turned his attention back to Peter, his face softening slightly as he began picking the glass fragments from Peter's face. “You should be in a hospital,” Alfred said quietly, his tone more gentle now. “You’re in no condition to be running around rooftops, let alone fighting.”

Peter gave a weak chuckle, though it quickly turned into a wince as his ribs protested. “Yeah, well, hospitals aren’t exactly Spider-Man-friendly. Besides…” He shot another glare at Batman. “I wouldn’t be here at all if someone had left us alone.”

“This young man was clearly in a life-threatening battle. Concussion, fractured ribs, glass embedded in his skin, burns, a bullet in a dislocated shoulder and God knows what else. And yet here he sits, instead of in a hospital bed where he belongs.” Alfred sighed heavily, his gaze flicking to Bruce. “I trust you’ll handle this properly, sir. Because if you don’t, I’ll be having words with you later.”

Bruce gave a small nod, his attention still on Peter.

“I don’t do hospitals,” Peter repeats, his voice hoarse as he glances at Alfred. “They’d ask too many questions. I’ll heal. I just… need time.”

Peter groaned, closing his eyes as he leaned back against the table. This was shaping up to be one of the worst nights of his life.

Alfred sighed, clearly unhappy but unwilling to press further. Instead, he focused on carefully removing a shard of glass lodged in Peter’s arm. Peter hissed again, his body flinching reflexively.

“You’re lucky,” Alfred said with a softer edge. “The bullet in your shoulder didn’t hit anything vital. Though how you managed to swing around with it still lodged in there is beyond me.”

Peter gave a weak, humorless smile. “Yeah, well… adrenaline’s a hell of a drug.” he tenses again as Batman walks past the table trying to take a Proper look at Peter's injuries.

Alfred glanced between them, his brow furrowing. “I assure you, he only wishes to help.”

Peter’s laugh was bitter, almost feral. “Yeah, sure. I've already been shot at by a SWAT team, and been beat to shit. So go nuts, it's not going to keep my Spider-Sense from blaring like a tornado siren. Your a threat to me Even if your trying to help, ”

Bruce’s jaw tightened, but he remained silent.

It wasn’t just the fight that had Peter on edge, it was the way Batman moved, the way he loomed over him like a shadow, the way his presence filled the room with an authority that made Peter’s stomach churn. It reminded him too much of Osborn. The cold, calculating gaze. The unrelenting drive. The willingness to go too far to get what he wanted.

It made Peter’s skin crawl.

Alfred, sensing the tension, shot Bruce a pointed glare before speaking again. “ I understand your hesitation, but I assure you, he is not your enemy.”

Peter scoffed. “Yeah? Tell him to stop staring at me like I’m some kind of science experiment, and maybe I’ll believe it.”

Before Alfred could respond, a loud crash echoed from the far side of the cave, followed by raised voices.

“I’m telling you,” Danny’s voice rang out, “you don’t need to keep babysitting me! I’m not gonna blow up Gotham or whatever you think I’m gonna do!”

“Oh, forgive me if I don’t take your word for it, Your Majesty,” Constantine shot back, his voice dripping with sarcasm. “You’re a bloody half-ghost kid with the power to wipe out entire dimensions. Forgive me if I’m a little cautious!”

“I’m not gonna wipe out dimensions!”

“Once is enough, mate.”

The argument continued, growing louder and more heated as Danny and Constantine bickered like a parent and child who had been stuck in the same car for too long.

Peter turned his head slightly, watching the chaos unfold with a mix of curiosity and exhaustion. “What’s their deal?” he asked, wincing as Alfred cleaned another wound on his arm.

Alfred sighed, clearly unimpressed with Danny and Constantine’s antics. “ Mr. Fenton and Mr. Constantine appear to have different approaches to… resolving conflict.”

“Yeah,” Peter muttered. “I can see that.”

Bruce, who had remained silent up until now, finally spoke. “ Constantine is trying to prevent a larger catastrophe.”

“By yelling at him?” Peter quipped.

“Look, I get it, okay? I’m scary or whatever. But I’m not Pariah Dark, and I’m not gonna start some ghost apocalypse, plus I'd rather not hurt my Human friends. What I actually want right now is a burger!”

Constantine raised an eyebrow. “Mate, you’re a walking bloody nuke.”

"Ignore them, it is for the best, I'd like you to take these, you're not allergic to Oxycodone?" Alfred asked gently, handing Peter a cup of water and what looked like a handful of painkillers. Peter doesn't answer, just throws them into his mouth along with taking a massive mouthful of water to wash them down.

"If it’s alright with you, I’d like to know how you ended up in this dreadful state." Alfred paused, glancing up at Peter's battered face. "You don’t have to say anything if you’re not comfortable, but it might help you calm down and rest."

Peter hesitated, his shoulders tensing slightly as Alfred reached for another piece of glass embedded in his arm. He hissed through his teeth, his fingers gripping the edge of the table tightly. "It’s… complicated," he said softly, his voice hoarse and raw. The handprint on his throat made every word feel like gravel scraping against his vocal cords.

Alfred gave him a small, reassuring smile. "I’ve found that most things are, Mr. Parker. But I’ve also found that talking about them can make things a little less so."

Peter looked at Alfred for a moment, his guarded expression softening slightly. There was something about the older man’s calm demeanor, his steady hands, and his genuine concern that made Peter feel… safe, even here, in the middle of a cave owned by a man who had beaten him in a fight.

Peter exhaled slowly, his fingers loosening their grip on the table. "Alright," he said quietly. "I guess it’s better than sitting here in awkward silence."

Alfred gave a small nod, continuing to work. "Take your time, lad."

Peter swallowed hard, his throat aching. "I was trying to fix something I messed up. My life it was a mess. Everyone I cared about, everyone who knew I was Spider-Man, they were in danger because of me. Because of something I did."

Alfred’s hands stilled for a moment, his sharp gaze flicking up to Peter. "Go on," he encouraged gently.

Peter took a shaky breath. "There was this… spell. A way to make everyone forget who I was—forget that I was Spider-Man. It was supposed to fix everything. But something went wrong, and it broke the multiverse open. Villains from other worlds. Worlds that weren’t mine, started showing up. People who knew Spider-Man, but not my Spider-Man. I fought them, tried to send them back, but…" He trailed off, his voice cracking slightly. "It didn’t matter. They kept coming."

Alfred’s expression softened, but he said nothing, letting Peter continue at his own pace.

Peter’s fists clenched. "The worst part was… I thought I could save them. I thought I could fix them, make them better, so they wouldn’t go back to their worlds and die fighting Spider-Man. And maybe I did. Maybe it worked for some of them. But…" He swallowed hard. "It cost me everything. My aunt—she—"

His voice broke, and he looked down at his lap, his hands trembling. "She died. Because of me. Because I wasn’t fast enough, strong enough, smart enough to stop it."

Alfred’s hand rested gently on Peter’s uninjured shoulder, "I’m terribly sorry for your loss," he said softly, his voice filled with genuine sympathy.

Peter nodded stiffly, not trusting himself to speak. He took a shaky breath, forcing himself to continue. "After that, I didn’t have a choice. I had to go through with the spell. I made everyone forget me. My best friend. The love of my life. Everyone. It was the only way to fix it."

Alfred’s hand lingered on Peter’s shoulder for a moment before he returned to tending to his wounds. "And that’s when you ended up here?" he asked gently.

Peter nodded. "Yeah. I thought it was a portal to take me somewhere safe, one of the wizards I was working with tried to get me away before they forgot. One minute I was in New York city, trying to figure out where I'd go, and the next thing I knew, I’m falling through some portal and landing in Gotham. And then Danny caught me" He shot a look towards Danny.

Alfred finished cleaning and stitching the last of Peter’s wounds before stepping back, wiping his hands on a clean cloth. "There. That should hold for now. But you’ll need rest, young man. Proper rest, not whatever adrenaline-fueled nonsense I imagine you’re used to." Alfred hands Peter a set of clothes. “Forgive me the closest to your size of clothes is Red Robin, he will most likely be here later” Alfred explains to Peter.

Peter gives a small nod before slowly moving, pulling the cover across so he could get dressed in something more comfortable. He still tenses and watches Batman like a hawk after he had dressed, not wanting the older man too close to him while he was in the state he was.

Batman reminded Peter of two people: Norman Osborn’s manic intensity lived in Batman’s ability to dissect everything with cold precision, in the way he always seemed to be two steps ahead. That same suffocating control, that same aura of dominance it put Peter on edge, made his heart race and his fingers itch to fight or flee.

But then there was Tony. The way Bruce carried himself, the unrelenting drive to fix every problem, the subtle weight of grief behind his every word and action, it was so much like Tony Stark that Peter’s heart clenched every time he looked at him. It stung, deep and raw, like an old wound being torn open.

And that combination, Osborn’s menace and Tony’s absence, was too much for Peter to handle.

Batman took a slow step toward him, his cape brushing the floor like a shadow reaching out. Peter stiffened instantly, his body going rigid, his breaths coming faster. His good hand gripped the edge of the table so tightly that his knuckles turned white.

"Peter," Bruce said, his voice low and steady. "I need to ask you a few questions. I need to know—"

"Don’t," Peter hissed sharply, his voice raw and filled with tension. He flinched back, his eyes wide and wild. His Spider-Sense wasn’t buzzing, but his instincts were screaming at him to move, to escape, to run.

Batman stopped, his expression unreadable behind the cowl, but Peter could feel the weight of his gaze. It bore down on him like a physical force, and Peter couldn’t stop the way his body shook under it.

Peter’s voice rose slightly, his tone cracking. "Don’t come any closer."

Bruce frowned, his jaw tightening.

"I said don’t!" Peter snapped, his voice trembling. His entire body was trembling now, his chest heaving with shallow, uneven breaths. He looked like a cornered animal, his eyes darting between Batman and the exit, like he was calculating how quickly he could escape if he needed to.

Bruce raised his hands slightly, a gesture of calm, but the movement only made Peter shrink back further. His mind flashed with images of Green Goblin’s twisted grin, of Tony’s lifeless eyes, of his own failures piling up like bricks on his back.

The tension reached its breaking point when Peter let out a sharp hiss of pain, clutching his ribs as his body twisted instinctively away from Bruce. The sudden sound drew Danny’s attention like a shot.

In a blur of green and black, Danny darted to Peter’s side, standing between him and Batman like a shield. His eyes glowed faintly, his aura flaring just enough to be intimidating without being outright threatening. He was back in his human form, but the protective energy radiating off him was unmistakable.

"Hey, back off," Danny said, his voice sharp and firm but not angry. He placed a steady hand on Peter’s shoulder, grounding him. "Give him some space, okay?"

Peter flinched again, his good hand gripping Danny’s wrist as if to anchor himself. His breaths were still shallow, his eyes flicking between Bruce and Danny. "I’m fine," he muttered, but his voice was shaky and unconvincing. "I’m fine, just—just stay over there."

Alfred, who had been watching the exchange with a mixture of concern and anger, finally stepped in, his tone clipped. "perhaps it would be best to give the young man some time to recover before bombarding him with questions. He’s clearly been through enough."

Bruce hesitated, his gaze lingering on Peter for a moment longer before he gave a curt nod and stepped back. He turned toward the Batcomputer, his cape sweeping behind him as he moved. Constantine muttered something under his breath about "bloody drama" and returned to fiddling with a spell book, but Danny ignored him, his focus entirely on Peter.

"You good?" Danny asked quietly, his glowing eyes dimming slightly as his aura softened.

Peter exhaled shakily, leaning back against the table. "Yeah," he said, though his voice was still weak. "I just… he reminds me of someone. Two people, actually. And it’s—" He broke off, shaking his head. "It’s stupid. Forget it."

Danny tilted his head, his expression calm but curious. "Not stupid," he said simply. "But you don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to."

Peter gave a small, grateful nod, his grip on Danny’s wrist loosening. "Thanks."

Danny smiled faintly, stepping back but staying close enough to be reassuring. "No problem. Just let me know if you need me to, like, phase you out of here or something."

Peter huffed a weak laugh. "I’ll keep that in mind."

The Batcave was a strange mix of eerie quiet and low mechanical hums as computers whirred and analyzed data in the background. the two teenagers currently sitting on one of the metal tables.

Danny and Peter were engrossed in their food, wolfing it down like they hadn’t seen a meal in weeks. Neither of them seemed to care about the pressure in the room or the watchful eyes of Batman, who stood at the far end of the cave, his expression unreadable as always. Constantine was somewhere off to the side, muttering curses under his breath and chain-smoking like it was his last day on Earth.

For Danny, this was just another weird day in a long line of weird days. For Peter, however, it felt like his entire world had collapsed in on itself.

He sat there, shoveling fries into his mouth with the speed of someone too exhausted to bother with manners, his usually sharp mind dulled by the overwhelming weight of everything that had happened. His Spider-Sense had been buzzing like a never-ending alarm the moment he’d arrived in Gotham. It hadn’t let up. not for a second, and it was starting to fray his nerves.

Peter was cranky, tired, and emotionally wrecked.

It wasn’t just Gotham. It was everything.

The other Peters. Aunt May’s death. Strange’s spell. The portal that had dumped him here. It all felt like one gut punch after another, and now, on top of everything, he’d been bested, humiliated, really by Gotham’s caped crusader.

Batman.

Peter glared at the man from across the room, his jaw tightening as he bit into his burger. It wasn’t just that Batman had captured him—it was *how* easily it had happened. Less than 24 hours in this city, and the so-called “Dark Knight” had already gotten the better of him.

Peter was *Spider-Man.* He’d gone toe-to-toe with aliens, super soldiers, and literal gods. Sure, Captain America had gotten the drop on him once, but that was different. That was Cap. This was a guy in a bat costume.

And yet, here he was.

The weight of it all made his chest ache, a cold, hollow feeling settling deep inside him. It reminded him of when he’d been dusted in Tony’s arms, helpless and scared and completely out of control. He hated it.

Danny, sitting next to him, didn’t seem to notice or if he did, he was too busy enjoying the food to care. He shoved the last bite of his burger into his mouth, licking his fingers clean before leaning back on his hands.

"Man," Danny said, finally breaking the silence, " the food’s not bad."

Peter turned back to Danny, his frustration still evident. "How are you so calm about all this? Aren’t you even a little freaked out?"

Danny shrugged again. "Eh, not really. I mean, have been in strange situations” Danny had moved on from his burger and was now lazily sipping a soda, his feet kicked up on the table as if they were just two kids hanging out in a diner.

But Peter? Peter was done. He was exhausted—no, more than that. He was emotionally wrecked. Everything had gone wrong. Aunt May was gone. The other Peters had disappeared back into their own worlds. Doctor Strange’s spell hadn’t fixed anything, and now Peter was stranded in this grim, alien city that radiated danger. His Spider-Sense hadn’t stopped buzzing since he got here, and it was driving him to the brink of insanity.

It felt like every nerve in his body was on fire, like there was a constant whisper in the back of his mind telling him something bad was coming. When Batman stepped closer, Peter glared at him, his lips curling back in a warning hiss like a feral animal. He didn’t care how ridiculous it made him look. He just wanted the man to stay away.

“Don’t,” Peter snapped, his voice low and dangerous. His body was coiled tight, ready to spring. “Just don’t.”

Danny raised an eyebrow “Alright. Sheesh. Someone needs a nap.”

Peter didn’t respond. His hands clenched into fists, his breathing shallow and uneven. He hated this. He hated feeling cornered, trapped, and helpless. He hated that he couldn’t even turn to Karen for comfort.

His suit’s AI had been offline since he’d arrived in Gotham, and every time he reached up to tap his earpiece, hoping to hear her calm, familiar voice, he was met with silence. It was a small thing, but it made the ache in his chest worse. Karen had always been there for him. Always.

And now she wasn’t.

Peter stood abruptly, his chair scraping against the floor. He needed to get away. He needed space, somewhere to breathe, somewhere to escape the weight pressing down on him.

His eyes darted upward to the high, cavernous ceiling of the Batcave. Without a word, he shot a web and launched himself up, his movements quick and fluid.

Peter didn’t care what they thought. He swung up to one of the higher ledges, far above the main area of the cave, and began weaving his webs. His hands moved automatically, the repetitive action calming his racing thoughts as he constructed a makeshift hammock.

It wasn’t much, but it was something familiar. Something safe.

When he was done, he collapsed into the hammock, the tension in his body finally easing as he stared up at the jagged ceiling above. For the first time in hours, his Spider-Sense dimmed to a faint buzz.

Peter curled up on his side, his arms wrapped around himself as he closed his eyes. He didn’t cry. He was too tired for that but the ache in his chest didn’t go away.

He missed Karen. He missed May. He missed home.

#dc prompt #dc #dcu #batman #dc x dp #dc x dp crossover #spiderman x dc #spider man #spider man in gotham #danny fenton #danny phantom #danny Phantom in gotham #spiderman #spiderman meets batman

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lovelesslittleloser · 3 years ago

Text

Another Great Idea From Yours Truely

So basically imagine a ghost au of Danganronpa V3 except with the twist that Shuichi can see the ghosts (shocking I know)

So basically it goes like Shuichi became the Ultimate Detective because the ghost of the person who died told him everything they knew and Shuichi (still clever as hell don’t get me wrong) just put the rest of the pieces together and was like ‘hey uh. It was that guy right?’ And everybody lost their bananas

And so he became the Ultimate Detective wHICH IS WHY HE DOESNT THINK HE DESERVES HIS ULTIMATE ITS BECAUSE HE WAS PRACTICALLY HANDED THE ANSWER ON A SILVER PLATTER

And with the first murder he asks Rantaro like ‘hey who killed you?’ and unfortunately Rantaro was too confused with his sudden death know shit so he has to go the normal route of Sleuthing to figure it out (or maybe Rantaro knew something but not quite enough to change anything due to ✨plot convenience✨)

Kaede is a ghost now (do I see a ghostly figure playing Claire De Lune?) and probably apologizes to Rantaro and he kinda half-forgives her because he understands where she’s coming from but like. Bruh

But then come Chapter 2 (Electric Boogaloo) he meets Ryoma’s ghost (maybe even before they find the body if you’re feeling ~spicy~) and he’s like ‘alright who killed you’ and Ryoma like knows but he would probably be like ‘hah I got what I wanted, I’m not telling you shit’ which would be very annoying

But that would be yet another excuse to keep things on track, so not much changes (because Rantaro and Kaede are probably following Shuichi around so they wouldn’t know more than him) and Kirumi dies and does nOT in fact apologize because that would be a ✨lie✨ (and boy aren’t we fond of those)

Now this is where things may or may not start getting off the road paved for us; Ryoma will probably stay depressed and look for a way to die again (maybe idk? Let me know if I’m getting his character absolutely wrong it’s been a while) but Kirumi could go two ways. Either she could 1) stay in the crazed state she was driven to in the trial or 2) see reason and chill tf out

If 1, she’ll probably go in a similar enough route as Ryoma where she’s trying to get out of the confines of the killing game, possess someone, or die again so she can reincarnate (or something, etc etc, I’m spitballing here) meaning she won’t be useful to Shuichi finding the killers.

Conversely, 2; she will chill out and help Shuichi with stuff he asks of her (staking places out, haunting people in because they’re likely to be murdered or murder, see who leaves their dorms at night, etc, still spitballing) and maybe help find a killer or two!

Either way, Angie dies and she’d probably be a bit miffed that she wasn’t able to meet Atua just yet but she’s chill so she’d probably assume it’s part of Atua’s Plan or smth idk

Although she’d probably know it was Korekiyo who killed her, which would make keeping things on track hard (if you wanna do that I probably shouldn’t assume huh) so Shuichi might know to stop the whole ‘let’s go in a room with the murderer with the lights off’ thing and keep Tenko from dying.

Lmao Korekiyo is all like ‘hey let’s talk to the ghost!’ And then Rantaro is just like ‘ah yes, Shuichi, let’s talk to the ghost’ and Shuichi is somewhere between laughing and crying because HA THATS GOOD THATS A GOOD ONE BUD but also GODDAMMIT AVOCADO MAN SHUT UP YOU’RE DEAD

So now Angie’s dead, Tenko might be alive if you chose that route, but Korekiyo is definitely dead. But how dead?

This might sound stupid because ‘Loveless, you dumbass, you idiot, he’s dead what do you mean’ well shUT UP I HAVE AN EXPLANATION TO MY CONFUSION

So part of Korekiyo’s execution is that he died and turned into a ghost, makes sense, no confusion there— BUT THEN HE GETS SALTED INTO DEATH AGAIN. So like… maybe his ghost is just. Not around. Hell you could even take this as Monokuma’s warning that Shuichi is on the thinnest of fucking ice.

So, currently, we have:

Rantaro: dead and ghost, follows Shuichi

Kaede: dead and ghost, follows Shuichi

Ryoma: dead and ghost, depressed (might have used the salting method to die again? Your choice but hey)

Kirumi: dead and ghost, insane/helpful (if insane maybe used salt?)

Angie: dead and ghost, chillin

Tenko: dead and ghost, follows Himiko OR alive- your choice your problem idk man 🤷

Korekiyo: dead. Very Dead.

And hey if you make Tenko die, you can have Shuichi console Himiko with words taken directly from Tenko’s ghostly mouth :)

(Lmao this is sadder then I thought it would be)

Okay and with this next one things get REALLY REAL (heheheheehhehehehhehe)

So the Neo World Program is like technology. And ghosts are known to screw with technology. Food for thought your choice your problem heheh :)

Anyway since ghosts can’t follow you into VR the ones that follow people would just be waiting like dogs at the door (hey that’s a good expression heck yeah) and so they would notice Miu dying and might try to like. Make Shuichi colder or something so he realizes something’s up and heads out. And since Shuichi’s smart he’ll figure out by maybe the second or third chill down his spine

Anyway Miu’s a petty bitch so she’ll snitch with no hesitation, even before Shuichi asks, which you might think won’t change much BUT WAIT

When Kokichi tells then it was Gonta obviously Shuichi would have a reaction of surprise, but Kokichi is smart so he’ll be able to tell it wasn’t a ‘what?! Gonta?!’ kind of surprise, but instead a ‘wait he’s telling the truth??’ kind of surprise. He may not say anything but he’ll know

Ahem anywho Gonta dies and is super mopey and sad and apologizes profusely to Miu (who doesn’t forgive him even though she was the one planning a murder first) and he might even feel bad enough that he like hides away somewhere to train to become a better gentleman or something.

AND HOO BOY THIS NEXT ONE COULD BE WILD IF YOU WANT IT TO

So uh. Starts off with Kokichi saying he’s the mastermind and Shuichi calling bullshit, of course.

But when they discover the body (body more like bloody ha gotem), Shuichi will make eye contact with Kokichi and Kokichi would probably ✨freak out✨ because this was not part of the plan

So he’ll just like shush Shuichi and maybe explain the whole plan(? I mean I think he would but it’s your choice I guess) and so basically you are now given the option to have Kokichi and Kaito’s plan actually work!! Your choice as to what happens after that but Kaito will still die due to his illness and Tsumugi might die still but uh. You get to keep Kiibo and maybe Tenko so that counts as a win right?

Might write more than this later just give me several hours days months weeks? Yeah that sounds right

#danganronpa v3: killing harmony #danganronpa spoilers #danganronpa #danganronpa v3 #danganronpa au #ghost au #dr au #danganronpa ghost au #shuichi saihara #shuichi saihara can see ghosts #it’s weird because I made like mostly just ‘what would change from canon if shuichi could see ghosts?’#but what I wanna see is mostly ‘haha look at this emo boy talk to ghosts lmao everyone thinks he’s nuts heh nerd’#like imagine #shuichi just having a pleasant conversation with Rantaro or Kaede and then Kaito or Kokichi or even Maki walk in and just see him #talking to nothing #and the ghost is like ‘uhh shuichi there’s a living person here’#but as he tries to explain they just like start closing the door saying like #‘ah. you must be having a hard time without your hallucination meds. it’s okay I won’t tell anyone’ and they like close the door #lmaooooo #alternate universe #i’m sorry #actually no im not #I just really love the idea that he can see ghosts like canon or not I wanna see this shit someone please make this #summoning #artists on tumblr #draw this please #write this #someone write this #please someone make this #please

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fruitcoops · 4 years ago

Note

can we get a part 2 to caps panic attack? like an outside perspective (not caps) maybe loops or like a cub or something ?

Y'all thought I was lying when I said I'd have Alarm Bells 2: Electric Boogaloo out soon, didn't you? Please ignore the fact that it's been juuuust under four months since the original fic, and enjoy draft #4! This is the longest I've spent on one fic! SW credit goes, of course, to @lumosinlove <3

TW for mentioned panic attacks

The door closed with a dull thud. Choking silence fell over the entire room before a cold, brittle, furious voice asked, “what the hell was that?”

Arthur swallowed around the dryness of his mouth and shook his head.

“What the hell was that?” Remus repeated. His temper was rare—Arthur had never seen him truly angry, but the tic at the edge of his jaw told a different story.

“I’m sorry,” he managed as he picked his clipboard up off the floor. “To—to all of you, I’m sorry.”

“I respect you a lot, Coach,” Dumo said, cutting Remus off before he could continue. “But that was out of line. Tonight’s game was bad. We all know that, especially Cap. That doesn’t excuse putting the blame on one person or throwing things.”

“You’re right.” He swallowed again and looked around the rest of the locker room; every other player stared at the ground, avoiding his gaze. Bitterness tinged his teeth—he was acting like the coach he had always promised he wouldn’t be. “I’m disappointed in myself for tonight’s game, and I took it out on all of you. Pascal is right, that wasn’t fair. I hope you can accept my apology and forgive me for losing my temper like that.”

“We’re not the ones you need to ask, though, are we?” James said from his stall without sparing him a glance.

Arthur suppressed a wince. He had been so preoccupied with his frustration at himself that he didn’t even notice the growing tension in Sirius’ body, nor the way he began leaning away as Arthur ranted. The same mask of fear, false control, and misery had painted Sirius’ face as when his mother—god, he looked at Arthur like he looked at that horrible woman—came to forcibly trade him to the Snakes. “You all deserve an apology,” he corrected. “But you’re right.”

“Excuse me for a minute,” Remus muttered as he stood and headed toward the door. They watched him go without a word.

“How can I make this up to you?” Arthur asked.

Finn’s shoulders sagged. “Don’t do it again.”

“I won’t.” A door down the hall creaked, and he prayed Sirius wasn’t suffering alone anymore.

“Apologize to Cap,” Dumo said.

“Absolutely.”

“Don’t—” Leo faltered, then pressed his lips together. “Don’t tell us we all share blame as a collective, then make Cap take the weight. That’s a shitty thing to do.”

Arthur’s throat tightened. “It is. I never should have done that to any of you.”

A few beats of quiet passed before Kuny raised his hand; Arthur nodded to him. “Don’t yell when angry, please. Very loud. We already know when you are upset.”

“I’m sorry, Evgeni. I’ll keep that in mind.”

“Same as Kuny.”

“Can you give us specifics about what we did, next time?”

“Please don’t throw your clipboard.”

“I’ll stay another hour to go through tape, if that’s what it takes.”

“Try not to interrupt us, please.”

For the next five minutes, Arthur noted down every single suggestion he heard; several were followed by murmurs of agreement. “Anyone else?” he finally asked. The boys shook their heads. “Thank you for telling me. I promise I’ll do better in the future, and—”

The knock on the door was soft, but it echoed throughout the room and sent a bolt of nervousness through Arthur’s heart. Remus poked his head in a second later. “Coach, can we borrow you for a second?”

Arthur set his clipboard down and headed into the hall without hesitation.

Sirius…if he was being honest, Sirius was a wreck. His eyes were red-rimmed and his cheeks were pink; a tissue was crumpled into little more than atoms in his fist. Still, he kept his chin up. Arthur hated the idea that Sirius thought he needed to brace himself with faux confidence.

“I’m sorry.”

Sirius’ lower lip wobbled once. “Thank you.”

“You kept them going out there even when they were ready to give up. We didn’t win, but we kept playing because of your leadership. Thank you.” He received a curt nod in response and pointedly ignored the tremor in both of Sirius’ hands. “I took my frustration out on you, which was wrong for many reasons, the least of which being that you don’t deserve to be talked to like that. Sirius, I truly am sorry for everything that just happened in there.”

“Apology accepted,” Sirius said. His voice was rough, but steady. “The guys didn’t deserve that, either.”

“I know. I apologized to them as well.”

“Good.” He sniffled once, then held his hand out for Arthur to shake. “In that case, I forgive you.”

“Thank you.”

Remus waited by the locker room door with an entirely neutral expression that would have unsettled Arthur if it didn’t melt into something soft and tired when he wrapped an arm around Sirius’ waist. “Ready?” he asked quietly.

The gentle buzz of conversation vanished as they entered again; Arthur sent them on their way with wishes for a good night’s sleep and a promise to talk more in the morning, and they trooped out in a tight group. As soon as the last of them disappeared down the hallway, he sat down in the nearest stall with a heavy sigh.

“That was impressive,” a voice remarked from the door. The bench creaked as Moody sat down next to him with a huff. “How’re you feeling?”

“Like shit.”

“Figured. Cap forgave you?”

“Thankfully.” Arthur rubbed his eyes until he saw spots. “Christ, Alastor, I sent him into a panic attack.”

“Asking what you can do to be better was a good move for all of them. That’ll serve you well in the long run.”

“I’m just grateful Loops didn’t break my kneecaps,” he laughed humorlessly. He stared down at the clipboard and the notes crammed into the margins for a long moment. “How did I fuck up that badly?”

Moody shrugged. “You’re human. You got upset. Don’t do it again. While you were in the hall, they were all saying how you didn’t seem like yourself, so I’d take that as a sign you’re doing something right. Just pay attention next time, and take some deep breaths.”

“You sound like Molly.”

A heavy hand landed on the back of his shoulder and gave him a light shake. “She’s a smart woman. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I need to make sure my candy jar isn’t empty again. You have a team of locusts, Weasley.”

Arthur smiled at his retreating back. “Yeah, but they’re our locusts. You know you love ‘em.”

Moody’s glare was nothing but fond.

#sirius black #arthur weasley #remus lupin #james potter #pascal dumais #leo knut #finn ohara #kuny #coops #alastor moody #sweater weather #lumosinlove #my fic #fanfic #alarm bells

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vespertin-y · 2 years ago

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CH4 DAILY LIFE 2 ELECTRIC BOOGALOO. that’s what this was saved as in my drafts and i’m not changing it now.

-the monokub domestic abuse subplot has started please pray for me

-”maki. good morning.” “...good morning...” [...this is a bit awkward. kaito’s obliviousness made last night...weird. but the way she talked about it like she didn’t care, that got to me...] “...hey, about last night.” “wh-what?” “you probably assumed i didn’t care...but, that wasn’t it at all.” “it wasn’t?” “you’re not fit to be a detective when you assume things without listening first.” “maki...” GODDAMNIT WE WERE SO CLOSE...all women know is eat hot chip repeatedly dig at their only two friends’ greatest insecurities without remorse and lie ��

-”ah, why did you run? are you in a hurry?” “...i decided to live life facing forward. that’s why i can’t stop. actually, i can’t even walk! i need to be constantly running forward!” your depression can’t catch you if you run fast enough!!

-shuichi convincing himiko to come exercise with him so she feels better 😭 kaito has started a good coping mechanism mlm and i fully support this.

-”but we gotta do it! if not now, then when!?” “l-like i said before, it’s reckless! there are still two exisals, right!?” “gonta know that, but...watching friends disappear...seeing everyone get weaker...gonta no can take this anymore! that’s why gonta go fight monokuma!” “fight monokuma!?” “shuichi, good timing! talk some sense into him! gonta’s saying a bunch of reckless stuff and he won’t listen to us!” “gonta know it reckless...but it only way to save everyone. waiting around, doing nothing just make more victims...that why gonta gotta risk his life! real gentleman would risk life! gonta gladly give up life to save everyone!” aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa. one thing ch4 is really good at is DREAD. you’ve been watching gonta slowly crumble as he “fails” to protect his friends over and over and you see it boiling over here. you see miu and kokichi both obviously doing bad as well. you know the buff self-sacrificing one goes in ch4. you might not know exactly *what’s* coming, but you know it *is*. i felt so sick my whole first time through this chapter it was almost a relief when the shoe finally dropped. it’s not much easier now.

-”kokichi...what the hell’s gotten into you?” “...” “you were messed up to begin with, but this is a whole ‘nother level of weird...“ poor kaito doesn’t know this is the Mental Breakdown Chapter!! everyone gets a mental breakdown!!! him, gonta, kokichi, miu, shuichi, ME

-kokichi is dead silent for the entire rest of the morning.........

-two important things to note about what happened w/ kokichi behind the scenes: 1) he saw the outside world *in person*. i see a lot of people say there’s no way he believed it was real when he’s already been mistrustful of the flashback lights, but this is different. he saw the sky, the earth, the broken buildings stretching all the way to the horizon - he felt the air leave his lungs. to deny it as just a set seems borderline delusional imo. and 2) monokuma (probably) saved his life. think about it - who else could it have been? we see that even with several people in the room they collapse too fast to close the door without outside help. monokuma can’t directly interfere with a murder, but he can definitely save his favorite student from a boring, offscreen death, right?

-anyway now that we’re done being cripplingly sad: fun dojo event!!! :D

-”i need a lot of energy to use magic. and the best way to get that energy is by having someone with overflowing vitality nearby.” i’m gonna CRY gonta asks how he can help and himiko is just like ‘u have such incredible vibes u can just stand there and it’ll help actually 👍’ so FUCKING TRUE

-cutest cg in the game i will not be taking questions

-[the reason gonta said he wanted to fight monokuma was to save his friends...i think...miu is the same.] is she, shuichi. is she.

-on that ominous note: FTE time! first another of maki’s....except not really, because the LP gave her a gift she hated and she left immediately 💀

-they picked kaito next (maybe because he’s easy to get gifts for, lmao). he tells more cartoonishly fake stories (kaito x pirate king 500k enemies to lovers when) and tells shuichi the reason he wants to be an astronaut is just “because it’s cool”. never change, buddy.

-the announcement was slightly more tolerable this time, if only because monotaro literally fucking forgor about the incest plotline.

-”what are you doing, tsumugi?” “oh, shuichi...nothing, really. that announcement played when i was going back to my room. it would’ve been fine if they just told us the time, but why’d it have to be so melodramatic?” there are two interpretations we could take here: one is that even the fuckign monokubs’ plotline is spiraling out of tsumugi’s control, and the other is that there is a COMPLETELY DIFFERENT incest fetishist from tsumugi at team DR cramming their kinks into the plot. i cannot decide which one is funnier to me.

-”if i couldn’t keep up as an assassin, the orphanage would no longer receive funding...and then, i wouldn’t have a purpose in life anymore.” damn, the parentification hit her HARD. i wish they explored more into this - maybe even have her as a *willing* bounty hunter instead of being practically held hostage by the cult, doing something she hates and knows is wrong because she feels like her only purpose in life is to provide for the kids? (that would’ve given her agency and responsibility over her actions, though, and we know how the writers hate that...). i thought going back to canon would reawaken my hatred for maki, and in some ways it has, but i feel like i’m growing fonder and fonder of the character she *could’ve* been. potential queen.

-that’s the end of day fifteen...but we get a bonus scene to tide us over :)c

-THE SPRITE. THE FUCKING SPRITE. i don’t believe anyone who says they didn’t shit their pants the first time they saw this what is up with those TEETH!!! kokichi’s other freaky sprites are all at least a little cute, in a creepy sort of way, but this one has what i can only refer to as Horse Energy and it terrifies me.

-uhh other important things to note about this scene,,,,kokichi’s teacher’s pet gambit pays off again! sure, monokuma only helps him to make the game more interesting, but do you think he’d believe, like, kaito or shuichi if they came to him with these claims? i don’t think so. he does this because kokichi has proven himself as an ally to the mastermind. (he’s going to throw away all that credit by the next chapter, but we’ll get to that when we get to it).

-that’s all for today! see you next time, where we’ll hopefully bang out the rest of daily life.

#dr #mem liveblogs

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twsted-princess · 4 years ago

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"Come on come on let's play!! I know a reeeeally fun game!!"

(picrew linked here)

Bio

Name: Annie Belladonna Muller

Nicknames: Raggedy Ann, (Samuel) Dolly, (Hecate) Platyfish, (Floyd) Mademoiselle Poupée, (Rook) Demon/Brat (All other students not in Terrovania)

Voice Actor: Misaki Kuno

Gender: Female

Age: Looks to be 11 (real age unknown)

Height: 138 cm/4'5

Race: Human with demon blood

Homeland: Hell (originally Rose Kingdom)

Birthday: 10/3

Starsign: Libra

Family: Father, Leaga (@just-an-otakus-blog/Aunt)

Occupation: Student

Based off: Annabelle from the Annabelle series

Professional Status

Dorm: Terrovania (@crestbaby)

School Year: First

Class: 1-B

Best Subject: None

Club: Gargoyle Appreciation

Dominant Hand: Right

Favorite Food: Chocolate chip cookies

Hated Food: Broccoli

Likes: Her Papa, Samuel, All of Terrovania, Kitties, Pretty dresses, Getting headpats, Teddy bears, Receiving new toys

Dislikes: Boredom, School, Crowley, Being alone, When everyone's too busy to give her attention

Hobbies: Being cute and playing with everyone

Talents: Tricking people into letting her break rules (not Terrovania rules....except for the candy one)

Unique Magic: Magical Fun-time!!

She can bring toys, dolls and and any inanimate object to live with their own personalities and thoughts but all of them follow Annie's wishes. They're also tied to her emotional state so when she becomes angry they'll turn demonic and even attack the source of the problem.

Backstory

The smallest and most cutest member, Annie is Chaotic Gremlin 2: Electric Boogaloo. Being kid-sized she prefers to spend time playing games and running around the dorm with her BFFL Samuel, being pampered by Auntie Hecate, or getting piggy-back rides from Big Brother Maxwell. Of course most people in the dorm have a soft spot for her and see her as a little angel while anyone else thinks she's a hellspawn who uses her tiny size and puppy dog eyes to get away with crimes. Since she is a little girl she has the attention span of a chipmunk and when she gets bored trouble is bound to happen, like shooting fireworks outside of Crowley's window or eating all of Riddle's tarts and blaming Ace. Of course things don't always go her way but for the love of everything holy don't get her mad. Then she'll either tell on you making a target for the Terrovania big-shots or sick her army of terrifying toys on you. As for her past she had seem to grow up happy in a loving family, being their only child. However that all changed for a hit-and-run left her an orphan at the tender age of 5. Taken to an orphanage that believed in God's holy might she was told by nuns and priests that she's a wicked demon that needed to be broken in. The time she spent there was terrible as no family would take her, blaming her whining or unruly nature which wasn't her fault, everyone was just really mean. She was punished for any misstep, no matter how small it was she would be sent to a dark room for hours on end. No talking, no interaction, no light, just a bible and her tears. During one of these times she prays, prays that God will send her a family that would take her far away from her. There was only silence for a while but then...she heard a voice. A man's voice telling her to dry her eyes, that everything will be ok. He'll be her father. She then saw a creature, with goat horns and greenish yellow eyes but he wore a warm smile. He told her his name is Malphas and that she won't ever be sad again. Taking his hand, he guided her out of that dark cold room and out of the orphanage, to her everything seemed to move to slow-motion and lights flicker around as she begins to skip happily alongside him. Of course she didn't need a reason to care about the bad people bursting into flames and dying all around her, she has a new papa and once she meets Samuel a new family!!!

#my work #oc's #twst oc's #Behold a babey

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keelywolfe · 4 years ago

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FIC: Welcome to Backwater ch.18 (spicyhoney)

Summary: Stretch has already dealt with the local sheriff about his adventures in the local woods. Seems like Edge might have a thing or three to say.

~~*~~

Read ‘Electric Boogaloo’ on AO3

Read it here!

~~*~~

It was funny how some things become automatic. Stretch was still thinking about Buford when Edge came into the store not long after the sheriff left. Still thinking about those strange white eyes of his, wondering at exactly how much he could see. How much, how far, how deep did it go. Stretch knew a little something himself about seeing a bit too much.

Still, habits were habits. Even though his mind wasn’t necessarily working in the here and now, Stretch automatically stood up straight and greeted Edge when he came in, customer service skills were a heck of a learned trait, even if he was the only one who worked here that had them.

“morning, hey, what’s up? what do you—" need, he didn’t get to say. He barely had time to notice that Edge didn’t look like his normal gorgeous self, hips notwithstanding. Sure, he was wearing his normal motorhuckle gear and he was walking like he was on his way to kill Captain America. But he looked pale, his skull chalk-white and stark, his eye lights faded to a shade closer to dull pink.

That wasn’t what cut off his ‘can i help you’ spiel. Nope, that was Edge stalking right over to the counter and around it into the register area. Stretch found himself roughly pulled into Edge’s arms and held in a painfully tight hug that nearly threatened to crack ribs.

Okay? This was new but fuck it if Stretch wasn’t going to go for it. He wrapped both arms around Edge and squeezed back, relished the feel of that long, lean body against his own, even buffered under a layer of leather. “um. hi?”

Edge said nothing, only held on, with all ten fingers digging in through the back of Stretch’s t-shirt and damned if he was gonna try fight his way loose. Was it his imagination or was Edge shaking a little? Or maybe that was the earth moving under his feet because Edge smelled so good, no bone cologne could compare. Like spice and woodsmoke, like the heavenly pies he made for Mama’s.

Nothing to be done for it, might as well dive into the deep end and see if he could drown. Stretch closed his sockets and basked in it, reveled in it. Maybe this was some weird frosting on top of an already bizarre cake but Stretch really wanted his slice.

After a minute, Edge was showing no signs of letting up and much as Stretch would’ve been perfectly fine standing like this all day, probably he should say something. It’d be pretty hard to run register if he was stuck to Edge like a conjoined twin and considering that they were sort of the same person, maybe better not to risk it.

It was just a damn shame that Stretch was so shitty at digging beneath the layers of other people’s traumas. Hell, he could barely take a shovel to his own.

He managed to work up enough air to wheeze out, “is…something wrong?” A horrible thought occurred. What if he wasn’t the only person the lady ghoul went to visit last night? Maybe she took the nickel tour of the woods, maybe Buford’s all-seeing eye blinked and missed something. “is frisk okay?”

“Yes,” Edge choked out. His voice was muffled into Stretch’s shoulder. “Everything is fine.”

Stretch shifted in his arms and only managed about an inch in any direction. “don’t take this the wrong way, but as fine as this feels, you don’t seem fine.”

That didn’t get any reply. Instead, Edge loosened his grip just enough to press his face into the hollow of Stretch’s collarbone where he inhaled deeply, mouth opened as if he wanted to taste whatever scent gathered there, get the whole experience.

Um. Holy shit. Okay, well, that was a fetish Stretch never knew he had, and if he wasn’t pinned like a sardine in Edge’s kung-fu grip, he might’ve honest to angel flailed at the feel of damp, hot breath against his clavicles. Every time Edge decided to go through his scratch ‘n sniff routine, it sent willie wonkers tingling right up his spine and right down his pants. All he could do was grit his teeth and stare blankly up at the ceiling as he tried desperately not to embarrass himself any more than the usual.

Finally, all too soon, Edge drew away. He took two steps back, putting some distance between them. He seemed almost embarrassed now and Stretch could only reluctantly let him go.

He was really, really grateful for his work apron right about now; good for catching dust and gook, with a side bonus of hiding inconvenient boners. Hopefully it wasn’t the not-at-all-a-pencil-in-his-pocket that chased Edge away. “not that i mind, like, really not, but you think you could let me in on what that was all about?”

“I’m sorry,” Edge said, stiffly. He crammed his hands into his jacket pockets and looked anywhere but at Stretch.

“uh, nope,” Stretch shook his head, “no apologies, hugs are free real estate.” He’d been this close to Edge before a couple of times but always before there had been distractions. Now looking at him was the distraction and Stretch let his gaze linger on the razer-sharp lines of his cheekbones, the tight narrowing of his eye sockets. The crack that ran through his left socket was obviously old, the edges worn relatively smooth, smoother than their owner.

Edge still didn’t look at him, not directly, anyway. A flick of his eye lights towards Stretch, then back away as he said, tightly. “We came very close to losing you last night. It was…upsetting.”

Oh.

Well, good news traveled fast, didn’t it, basically at the speed of light around these parts. He wondered glumly if Red was in his apartment busily composing a profanity-laden symphony titled ‘I Told You So.’

“How did you know?” Stretch sighed out. Maybe Frisk was tuned in to the local airwaves or Edgar Allen might branch out into branches instead of corn gossip.

“Buford,” Edge admitted. “He is the town constable, he looks after the town. Literally, in his case.”

Also had a big mouth, seemed like. “yeah, uh, he showed me his eyes.”

“Did he?” Edge seemed surprised, then pleased. “He usually wears his sunglasses. He rarely takes them off when he’s on duty because outsiders tend to find his eyes unsettling. But yes, it’s his duty to watch out for problems and he does it well.”

Stretch nodded slowly, “must be tough on him sometimes, seeing all that.” He had a little personal experience in that.

“Buford does his duty,” Edge said with a certain finality. Welp, looked like that topic was done and Stretch was fine with that since Edge was starting to look a little calmer. His eye lights weren’t on Stretch’s but lower, focused more on the mouth region and when Stretch flicked his tongue across his teeth nervously, those crimson lights went heavy and dark.

To his disappointment, Edge didn’t go for Ginormous Hug 2: Electric Boogaloo. Instead, he reeled back, shaking himself visibly and turning towards the door. “Well. I only wanted to check in on you, I should be going.”

“wait!” Stretch blurted and Edge hesitated, raising one browbone. “don’t go, not yet.”

He waved a hand in offering at the stool behind the counter and after a moment of hesitation, Edge stepped around the dog and took it. Mutt never stirred, burrowed down in the blanket Red had laid down for him, snoring away. Good thing they hadn’t been in the market for a guard dog.

Stretch hopped up on the counter to sit, (hey, his butt was cleaner than the whole store had been when he first got here) and wondered what the hell to do now. He’d wanted Edge to stay and now he didn’t know what to talk about. Every other chat they’d had was about some kind of Backwater weirdness, the peanut butter and pickle sandwich version of a conversation. He wasn’t sure he even knew how to have a white bread and butter chat.

Edge seemed to agree. He swiped a finger along one of the shelves behind the counter and checked the results, finding it to be relatively dust-free. “The store is looking much better since my brother hired you on.”

“yeah,” Stretch latched on to that topic gratefully, it was marginally better than bringing up the weather. “try to keep up on it. he’s paying me well enough for it, plus room and board, figured i can do my mr clean impression.” He gave the top of his skull a pat. “i’ve already got the bald part down.”

Edge made a rough, scoffing sound and even that was somehow delicious in that voice of his. “I suspect most of what fills up your board comes from my kitchen.”

Stretch suspected the same but leapt to his landlord’s defense, anyway, he owned Red that much and more. “hey, red is a damn fine microwave wrangler when he puts his mind to it.” Okay, so that was less of a leap than a trip and miss, but he’d tried. Maybe better to steer the topic boat out of the rapids and into calmer water. “my bro likes to cook, too.”

“Is he very good?” Edge leaned forward curiously, propping his chin up on a hand.

Woah, wait, abandon ship, that was not calmer waters, that was a storm a’brewing, a freaking typhoon. “good is relative,” Stretch said stoutly.

“Ah,” One corner of Edge’s mouth curled up into a smile. “Rest assured, I would never force you to disparage your brother’s cooking. If it’s any comfort, my recipes were somewhat unique when we first came here as well. Like the garden, it took some time for my skills to come into bloom.”

“seriously?” There was a little too much naked relief in that one word but fuck it, Blue wasn’t here to hear it, “so how many years until he’s less ‘nailed it’ and more ‘chef’s table’?”

That half-smile widened. “Time is also relative, as are brothers. How is your brother, I’m assuming he’s still back in Ebott. Have you spoken to him since you came here?”

Welp, he’d avoided the storm only to end up in shark-infested waters, wasn’t that just his luck, “sort of,” Stretch hedged.

Edge’s teeth parted in a silent ‘ah’ as he successfully decoded that message. “You texted him. Well, that’s better than leaving him completely in the dark.”

“i think he’s doing okay. he was even before i left.” He really hoped so, but then, Blue settled in easily enough from the start. From the Human’s perspective, his bro looked a little like he’d stepped out of some kind of cartoon. He was small and adorable, his starry eye lights in his huge sockets were as cute as if Disney blessed him from beyond the grave. Stretch didn’t begrudge his brother for that, ‘course he didn’t, but that didn’t make his own experiences easy cheesy. “frisk was pretty right about ebott. when it comes to monsters, it sure isn’t backwater.”

“I’m sorry.” Said with enough quiet sincerity to make Stretch shift uncomfortably.

He shrugged weakly. “eh, not your fault.”

“No, but I can still let you share your pains.” Edge reached up and took his hand. He rubbed a scarred thumb gently over his knuckles and Stretch caught his breath. “You know, I used to dream about coming to the surface. Back in my world, in the Underground. Frisk told you that it was a place of LV, not love. My brother and I spent much of our time there simply struggling to survive.” The reminiscence in Edge’s voice held no hint of fondness, but there was a certain faint wistfulness. “I had such grand dreams of what the surface world would be like back then. Hope was difficult to come by in my universe, I never truly believed a human would come and when they did, well.” Edge chuckled and there was the fondness missing from before. “Frisk was not at all what I imagined.”

“did the surface world live up to your dreams?” Stretch asked, curiously. His own dreams of the Aboveground were shaken to their foundations barely an hour into the sunlight, when the first Humans to arrive greeted them not with welcome, but with automatic rifles.

“In some ways,” Edge said. “Mostly, it’s very different from what I imagine. But like Frisk, not necessarily in a bad way.”

“ebott is sure fucking different then i imagined,” Stretch only realized how hard he was squeezing Edge’s hand when both of their joints popped. He loosened his grip, then pulled away entirely, picking up the pen from the counter to fiddle with; at least if he broke that, he’d be the only one stained. “doesn’t matter, anyway. i’m not there right now, am i.”

“Indeed not. You’re here, and Backwater is probably as different from Ebott as it is the Underground.” Edge stood in a jangling, creaking rhapsody of leather and buckles. “On that note, I do need to get going.”

Stretch stood too, hopping down from the counter. Much as he’d like Edge to stay, he did have some work to get done and who knew what Edge needed to get back to. “thank you for checking in on me.”

“Of course.” Too fast for Stretch to do more than blink, Edge leaned in and Stretch stood frozen as he pressed a chaste kiss to his cheekbone, the delicate scrape of his teeth almost ticklish against sensitive bone. He pulled back before Stretch managed to gather up all his scattered wits, and his smile was the soft, real one as he said, “I’m sure I’ll see you again soon.”

“soon,” Stretch parroted dumbly. He stood there like an idiot and watched Edge leave, only coming back to himself at the jangle of the bell over the door. Then he cursed himself, roundly and in every language he knew, including modified flamespeak. Smooth moves, there, Marvin Gaye, couldn’t even turn your head for a real kiss? Just stood there with crotch plug store book and didn’t even try to kick it up a notch? But he’d gotten one hell of a hug and a hand fondle, that was worth nearly getting eaten by Lady Cthulhu out there.

Well, almost.

“mind not getting your sop all over my counter?”

Stretch whirled around, barely managing not to trip over his own feet, to see Red standing in the hallway entrance. He was leaning heavily on his cane with a brutally unimpressed look on his face.

Fuck.

“i’m sorry—” Stretch began and faltered, unsure of what to say. He’d tried to listen to Red, he really had. He’d warned Stretch against starting anything with his bro from the beginning, offered plenty of warnings against rebound fucks and people getting hurt, and Stretch had tried. Except he hadn’t, had he, not really, and he could try to blame Edge’s hips and that gorgeous voice all he wanted; in the end, it was his fault, just like everything else. He hadn’t really been fighting that hard, why would he, it wasn’t like he wanted to win.

Red only sighed heavily and waved him off. “ain’t nothing to be sorry for. toldja before, i ain’t worried about my bro. you’re the one keepin’ me awake at night.”

“speaking of worrying,” Stretch took a deep breath before plunging forward, away from the sharks and heading into the shallows where the piranhas swam. “look, before anyone else decides to spill the beans, i need to tell you something.”

Red held up a hand and Stretch fell silent. “lemme get my coffee first.”

Coffee sounded better than it had any right to and, in his chest, Stretch’s soul gave an uncomfortable lurch like it could hop out and get a cup of its own. Hopefully, he asked, “can i get some?”

“yeah, sure,” Red turned back towards the apartment and tossed back over his shoulder, “whatcha want in it?”

“honey?” May as well dream big.

“yeah, darlin’?”

What? ”No!” Stretch blurted. “I mean…I didn’t…”

“yeah, yeah,” Red snickered. “i gotcha, brat.”

It was both entirely too long and much too quickly that Red made his way back with two heavy white mugs that looked as if they’d been stolen from Mama’s diner. He handed one to Stretch and settled in to lean against the counter, sipping from his own. “so, this about why you and my bro were cozying up behind the counter?”

“uh, sort of,” Stretch hedged. He stalled by taking a sip of his coffee, glorying in the thick, over-sweetened brew. “he came by because buford got a hold of him.”

Red lurched upright as if someone goosed him right on his tailbone. Hot coffee sloshed over his hand and he hissed, shaking his wet, stinging fingers as he demanded, “he did what now? what the fuck happened?”

“it’s not that bad.”

It was a weak attempt at best, not that it mattered. Red didn’t fall for it in the slightest. He didn’t move, there was no noticeable change in his breathing or posture, but the sardonic humor that seemed to cling to Red like another shirt evaporated entirely and left behind nothing but cold sincerity. “buford don’t exactly text, he don’t get ahold of anyone unless—” Red stopped and gave Stretch a coolly assessing glance that he squirmed beneath. Quietly, he said, “kid, what did you do?”

“i didn’t do it!” Stretch blurted and no amount of defending himself to his own brother or even the Ebott police could have prepared him for this. “the dog ran off, but i didn’t go into the woods! not until—there was this…this thing!” Stretch gestured wildly, trying ineffectively to convey with skinny bone hands the shadowy, awful creature that lured him into the dark last night. He couldn’t hold back a shudder of revulsion, simply thinking about it was filling him with a renewed sense of horror. “it looked like a woman and then it didn’t, she was singing, she was doing something, and i couldn’t stop myself, i couldn’t even think!”

He stopped, panting, and Red said nothing. He only stood there statue-still and Stretch would have given about anything for the door to open, the bell to jangle as someone looking for a fresh supply of ass wipers broke that awful silence.

Desperately, Stretch pressed on, letting out a nervous laugh. “anyway, i’m okay. she didn’t touch me or bite me or anything. i got out okay.” He didn’t mention the bone dragon, wasn’t even sure why, but Red was still frozen and silent over hearing about one terrifying encounter, maybe better not to mention two.

“red?” Stretch tried, hating how his voice sounded so small and forlorn. In a dismal corner of his mind, he was already mentally packing his bags. He couldn’t go back to Ebott, not now, not yet, but where else could he go, what other job could he possibly find? Maybe a waiter at Mama’s or maybe the thrift shop needed a helping hand. He didn’t know. The little money he had wouldn’t last long and definitely not in a bigger city. He didn’t really have any options, no choices at all.

He jerked back as Red suddenly jolted into movement, limping around the counter without his cane. He staggered almost drunkenly and then swung around to violently ram his fist into the first rack of the shelves. The wooden frame rocked and groaned, scattering boxes and cans to the floor on either side. A small bag of cornmeal fell and burst open, scattering dusty yellow across the floorboards.

“i…i’ll just…” Stretch couldn’t say go, he couldn’t, saying it would make this real, and he couldn’t let it be real. He took a step towards the hallway, tasting heavy tears on the back of his tongue.

Red’s voice stopped him, “kid.”

Stretch stood there and watched Red wrap both arms around himself. The fingers of one hand were streaked with marrow, he’d probably cracked his phalanges, but Red only shuddered faintly, drawing in a long breath and letting it out in a shaky rattle as he said, “if i’d’ve known she was awake, i woulda warned ya.”

Oh.

Oh, that made a terrible amount of sense and it didn’t make Stretch feel one fucking bit better to realize that Red wasn’t mad at him.

“it’s fine, red,” Stretch said, gently. It was hard to bank his own fears, but he managed, “it’s not your fault. i’m okay.”

Red heaved out a hitching little sigh and Stretch didn’t need Buford’s powers or his own magic to see that Red didn’t believe that, not even a little.

“okay,” he muttered under his breath, low and indistinct, “okay, okay.” Then louder, “okay, kid, get on out of here.”

“you’re firing me?” Stretch blurted, horrified. He’d begun to believe it was all right, more fool he, hadn’t he had the rug ripped out from under him enough times by now, when would he ever learn?

“what?” Red said, aghast. “fuck no! take a little time off, is all, after a shitty night like that, you need it. go see a movie, ‘wizard of oz’ ’s playin’, think it’ll be right up your alley.”

Relief left him weak, but he made no move towards the door. “but. your hand?”

“what about my hand?” Red raised his browbones and his hand at once and Stretch stared at the clean, pristine bones in confusion, what the fuck, he was sure he’d seen—

“okay, but,” Stretch still didn’t want to leave, some part of him vaguely convinced that if he left he wouldn’t be able to come back, like this shabby little store was some kind of fae place. “here, let me clean up.”

“i can fucking clean,” Red said impatiently. “been doing it since long before you got here.” He hooked his perfectly unbroken thumb at the door, “now, git! scoot!”

It seemed better not to comment on Red’s cleaning skills. Stretch hung up his apron and obediently scooted while Red limped over to the broom.

Outside, the temperature was just above a swelter. Stretch headed towards the theater even as the kids pulled up by the shop and dropped their bikes to head in, about five minutes too late.

Red had the right idea, he decided tiredly. A movie sounded like a good idea right about now. If, that was, he could stay awake through the opening credits.

tbc

#spicyhoney #papcest #keelywolfe #underfell #underswap #underfell papyrus #underswap papyrus #underfell sans #welcome to backwater

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snusbandxknifewife · 5 years ago

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Photo Fic 2: Electric Boogaloo

Ok so this is the sequel to the first fic I ever posted on this account. (If you wanna read that one first, click on the photo fic tag at the bottom.) I think it’s cute as hell and I’m soft about it so 🥺 Jude and Cardan wanting to take pictures together makes me 🥺🥺🥺

~~~~~~~~~

In the year after Cardan and Jude took their very first photos in a photobooth, photography became a bit of a fascination in Faerie. Jude didn’t intend for it to happen, but what royalty does tends to become the fad in the kingdom.

It started when they’d bought a Polaroid and began to take pictures of one another, eventually amassing so many that they’d dedicated an entire hall to photos of them. It was both of their favorite place in the entire palace, where they both went to see the other smile and drown in happy memories.

Then a servant had left a door open and a visiting dignitary had seen inside. After that, word quickly spread around the kingdom of the King and Queen’s portrait hall: the place where they’d managed to capture pieces of real life. Jude and Cardan had sighed and agreed to throw the doors open, allowing people to tour the wonder.

(Of course they’d continued to take dumb photos and risqué ones too, but they were much better at hiding those. Jude was insistent that only the dramatic or kickass photos get sent to the hall.)

They’d graduated to a better camera and they’d started to send requests for Vivi to print them. As the photos got bigger and more detailed, the people of Elfhame grew more impressed. All over the kingdom, tinkerers and witches and everyone in between began trying to craft devices that would capture photos in ways the mortal devices couldn’t. It had become a fierce competition, one that amused both Jude and Cardan.

Now, on Cardan’s birthday, the entire kingdom was watching with bated breath. The Living Council had announced a competition to find the best camera creation and, in addition to all the gifts people were bringing for the king, the great hall was full of photographs. The king would be choosing the most realistic picture, and he’d also be awarding the most beautiful one.

Jude sat on her throne, her red empire waist dress floating down to her feet and glittering in the light. She’d worn it at Cardan’s insistence; since he’d announced that their subjects would undoubtedly be taking pictures of them and he wanted his wife to shine just as much as her.

Beside her, Cardan smiled and greeted the family of a soldier from the Court of Termites. Bomb took their gift and stacked it on a table to the side of the royal dais. The picture they brought with them is a gorgeous rendering of a hill overlooking a lake at sunset. It appears to be painted, the work of an extremely diligent artist who had undoubtedly spent days getting everything right.

The photos people came with weren’t all actual photographs, most were art pieces, but it made Jude smile. She couldn’t help but feel proud at the fact that she’d inspired her kingdom to try something they’d never really focused on before. At least she knew she wouldn’t have to keep going to the mortal world to get pictures with her husband. She’d be able to stay in Faerie, safe in what she was familiar with, and she’d still be able to capture important moments in her life.

Still, she’d had to go to the mortal world to get the gift she wanted for Cardan. She’d done that a few times in the past year—her husband’s favorite had been the pinup shoot she’d done about five months prior—and he had a habit of rotating the framed pictures of her he kept on his desk.

She knew she’d have to stop eventually, so she took all her chances while she still had them. She was glad that the timing of this one has worked out.

Time passed and she played the dutiful queen and adoring wife, dancing with Cardan and eating to her heart’s content, greeting her subjects and accepting gifts that didn’t come with any strings attached.

Cardan watched her over the top of his chalice, grinning at how effortlessly she swayed across the floor. With her head held high and her shoulders back, she commanded the whole room without a word. His wife was gorgeous, she was his everything.

Eventually their people became antsy, looking around at the pictures hanging all around the hall and wondering who would be announced the winner. Members of the Living Council were interviewing everyone who’d put in an entry to find out how they made their picture as Cardan led Jude to look at each piece. They’d make the decision on the most beautiful picture alone, and they’d take the Living Council’s input on the best camera entry.

Jude’s favorite was definitely the picture someone had turned in of a revel from a few weeks back. It had been outside, everyone barefoot and dancing until the sun had long come up. The picture showed a dance floor lined with faeries in all manner of dress, watching on as she and Cardan danced. Her dress that night had been a spring green piece with a dangerously low back and skirts that danced around her ankles. Her husband, shown smiling as he swung her around, had a ruffled shirt open low on his pale stomach and breeches of forest green.

Cardan’s favorite was a picture put in by a guard, one that showed his wife dressed in fighting gear as she practiced out in the gardens; her hair sticking to her skin and her face fierce as she lunged towards her sparring partner. He always adored little reminders of how deadly his wife was, loved to see glimpses of the creature that he’d managed to tame, the one who’d tamed him in turn.

They retreated to their thrones to deliberate as Cardan opened gifts. The whole hall went silent, watching the king’s reaction to each parcel. While gifts had to be freely given, everyone knew that those who gave the best gifts would be looked upon favorably.

Jude watched the room for threats as her heart began to race. She knew that the last gift Cardan would open would be the one from her. She’d made sure that Bomb arranged everything that way.

She’d worked her ass off to keep her gift a secret from him. Cardan had been a pain in the neck for WEEKS, trying to catch her in a slip up. She had to engineer a diplomatic mission for him to go on just so she could sneak away to the mortal world and she’d threatened a few lives to keep it from him. Thankfully, it would all be over in a few hours.

Cardan opened all manner of magical gifts: cloaks meant to make the wearer invisible, doublets of impenetrable spider silk, jewelry that helped you understand and speak other languages. Everything he was given was gorgeous and unbelievably expensive.

Everything except for one thing.

Cardan was just about to grab the parchment from Randalin that announced the best camera so they could make their announcements when Jude stopped him.

“Cardan, you’ve got one more gift,” she gently announced and his brows furrowed. One, Jude was hardly ever gentle and two, he had opened everything he’d been given.

Bomb walked up and handed Jude a box, one made of lush purple velvet and wrapped up in a bow of the cleanest white satin.

“What on Earth?” Cardan tilted his head to the side as he accepted the gift, his long fingers wrapping all the way around it as he tried to weigh it to guess what was inside.

“Consider it my entry into the photo contest,” she grinned, only confusing him more.

He pulled the bow off and the entire crowd watched closely. Some were intrigued, others were angry—nobody had been told the queen would be submitting a photo—and others were just being quiet to avoid the ire of the royal family.

When Cardan took the top off the box, he found a picture frame upside down and he snorted. It was just like Jude to prolong the drama.

Jude grabbed fistfuls of her fluffy tulle skirt and bit the inside of her cheek hard enough to make it bleed. She knew that she’d have to explain what it was and that was making her nervous enough to shake.

She’d debated for hours if she should give him his birthday gift in private or if she should do it at his party. Eventually, at the insistence of Vivi and Heather, she’d taken the plunge and decided on a public announcement. She knew everyone would find out eventually.

“It’s.....a photo?”

Jude snorted at Cardan’s evident confusion as he looked at the black and white fuzzy picture, no larger than his hand. She’d put it in a pretty white frame, one that she would eventually write a name on.

“You’re right, my love,” she agreed. “It’s a photo from the mortal world. You see, mortals have figured out how to take pictures for medical purposes. They can use special devices to see inside the body.”

He looked to her, delicately clutching the frame in one hand. She fought the urge to laugh at how he still hadn’t put two and two together. Out in the crowd, faeries were tittering amongst themselves, trying to figure out what their queen has given their king.

“Is this a photograph of you?” He turned back to the picture, gripping it in both hands again and turning it like a different angle would make it make more sense.

“Sort of,” she shook her hand in a so-so gesture. “I’d say I’m the background of the photo. You should be focusing here.”

She walked over and pointed, her nail with its unchipped purple paint tapping against the glass over a strangely shaped white blob. Cardan naturally leaned closer to her, as he always did when she got near, one of his arms wrapping around her waist and pulling her close as he tilted his head and squinted his eyes.

Silence stretched out for a few more seconds before Jude, near giddy with mirth, stepped away from her husband.

“Maybe it’ll help if you know where the photo was taken,” she offers as she grabs the frame from his hands. Cardan, his mind still swimming with possibilities, allowed her.

Then, as his wife turned the photo to face him and drew it back so the frame was flush against her lower abdomen, his jaw dropped.

If she was the background, and the photo was taken inside the body—

“Jude, gods above, how long have you known?” Cardan’s eyes welled up with tears and he fell to his knees, his hands coming up to cup his wife’s hips and his thumbs running over where the frame covered her stomach.

Just that quickly, her throat closed up from emotion and all she could do was nod. Cardan grabbed the frame from her and tucked it against his heart as he pressed his face into her skirts, trying to kiss her stomach and hide his crying all at the same time.

Some faeries had put the clues together and were watching with gaping mouths, unsure of what to do as their king hugged their queen.

Then, Jude pulled Cardan to his feet and she turned to the crowd. “The gift I present to my king and husband is the first photograph of our child, which grows inside me as we speak.”

And, just like that, the entire hall erupted with celebration. Most of their subjects had grown to love their new king and queen and, even if that weren’t the case, a pregnancy was always cause for celebration among the fertility-challenged fae. A royal baby, especially so early on in both the king and queen’s rule and their marriage, was unheard of.

Randalin—who looked a bit annoyed at not being informed of the royal pregnancy before the court was—led the partygoers in a toast, one that Cardan happily joined in. Beside the beaming king, Jude raised her glass of water in solidarity; no wine for her for a few more months.

“How long?” Cardan asked her, near giddy with excitement.

“The doctor said twelve weeks,” she whispered back, wrapping her arm around her husband’s hips as they raised their glasses again. “I’ve suspected for a month or so. I should’ve known sooner, but my first missed period was during that last uprising attempt, so I was a bit distracted.”

Cardan held out the photo and Jude pointed out the body parts that were already forming. When she told him that she’d be going back, that he’d be able to come with her and hear their baby’s heartbeat while it was still inside her, he nearly began to bawl again.

“When do we announce the winners?” Jude asked, thinking back to that gorgeous picture of them dancing.

“I can’t think of anything more beautiful than this.” He held up the photo of their baby and Jude blushed, elbowing his side and telling him to be serious.

Cardan told her that he was being serious and she bit her lip, looking down at the photo she’d already stared at so much.

The party would grow into a week-long celebration of the new heir; a practice run for the celebrations that would rock Elfhame when the child was born. Eventually, both the faeries who made the two pictures Jude and Cardan had enjoyed the most were made aware that their works were hanging in the royal picture hall and another faerie who’d made the best camera was given a job by the Living Council and they became the first official royal photographer.

Elfhame would grow to love photography, all because of a mortal queen who wanted a picture with her husband.

~~~~~~~~~~

Hnnnnng pregnancy announcements are so cute lol

Tag list: @cardan-greenbriar-tcp @hizqueen4life @slightlyrebelliouswriter23 @thewickedkings @aelin-queen-of-terrasen @cheekycheekycheeks @queen-of-glass @b00kworm @doingmyrainbow @andromeddea @jurdanhell @thesirenwashere @sweetlyvillainous @clouds-and-peonies @clockworkgraystairs

#cardan greenbriar #jude duarte #tfota #jurdan #judecardan #photo fic #tyrannosaurus lex writes #pregnancy announcement #im SO fucking soft for this

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lunanight2012 · 5 years ago

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My Self insert RenDocSelf story Part 1

Here is part 1, it’ll be under the cut, because i’m still nervous about it.

Enjoy

Also tagging @cuteypandapie because they seemed interested in this story

I smirked as a trident was pressed against my throat. Yep, me and Doc were fighting again. This happened every week. I felt the trident pierce my neck a tiny bit. I pulled out my TNT and within a millisecond, pulled out my flint and steel, lighting the TNT.

"See you after respawn, Docy~!" I teased before the TNT exploded, killing both of us.

I gasped as I sat up in my bed, in my base. Getting up, I walked over to my mirror, seeing all my respawn scars. But the one I reached up and touched was the latest one, on my neck. I turned around and grabbed my collar necklace. I couldn't show it off like I wanted to. I had stuff to do now.

I grabbed my extra set of enchanted diamond armor, diamond tools, and elytra. I took off using my elytra and rockets back towards where I blew me and Doc up. I quickly gathered my items, putting Doc's items in a shulker box, leaving a sign that read "To the Goatfather. From L"

I smirked, before quickly taking off towards Dead Dog Gulch. I had to help Ren out with his Quadchopper. I landed as gracefully as I could before making my way to the Bigger Logz Inc meeting room.

I quickly got on my work helmet, my name painted across the front. I reached the door to the building. Fixing myself to make myself seem presentable before knocking on the door.

"Come in!" Ren called from inside.

I felt myself shiver at his voice. Yes, I had a crush on Doc AND Ren. Do they know? God no. I'm pretty sure neither of them feel the same. I opened up the door and smiled at Ren.

"Good morning Luna. Did you and Doc finish your fight already?" He asked with a smirk.

I rolled my eyes. "I had a meeting I couldn't miss. So I ended it quickly. Now what is wrong with your QuadChopper?" I asked, crossing my arms over my chest.

"One of the timers isn't working." Ren explained, getting up from his desk, walking around and sitting on his desk, facing me.

His tail swayed and his ears twitched in different directions. God, he was so freaking cute! But he's my boss!

"Didn't you create it?" I questioned, smirking.

Ren tugged on his vest a bit, not meeting my eyes. Weird.

"Yea. But I figured a fresh set of eyes would help."

"But you know I'm better at helping harvest wood than I am with redstone. Ren. You know you should ask any of the redstoners on the server to help, not me. So call Mumbo, call Tango, hell call Doc, "The Goatfather". I'm going to go refill the barrels at the shopping district. I believe in you boss!" I called out saluting before I took off towards the Bigger Logz wood storage.

I opened the door and began to gather wood into the shulker box for moving the wood between storage and the shop. I rubbed at my collar, people would call it a choker but I like to think of it as a collar. I mean hell I fight Doc every week, and I work for Ren. I belong to both of them but they don't know.

I finished loading the shulker box, placed it in my inventory and left. Flying towards the Cowmercial District. I landed outside of the shop, smiling as I went through the barrels and restocked. It didn't take long. Any profit from the shop, I placed in the now empty shulker box.

"Alright, better get this to Ren." I exclaimed, packing up the shulker and getting ready to take off.

I stopped, seeing something that caught my eye. Doc, Etho, and False walking down the Cowmercial district. I hid behind a barrel as I listened to them talk.

"Thank you once again False. I'm glad to finally have had BDubs killed." Doc stated, getting closer to the shop.

I held my breath and peeked out from the side of the barrel. Watching the scene unfold. I noticed that False now had the tag. Or as Grian liked people to call it, Tag 2: Electric Boogaloo. Yes I rolled my eyes thinking about it.

"Not a problem at all! Thank you for letting me have the tag in exchange for killing him. I better head out to my base! See you later Doc!" False exclaimed, taking off towards her base.

I hid behind the barrel once more. Why was I jealous? Doc and I were "enemies". Not dating… so why am I hurt he didn't ask me?

"I think I love her Etho."

I could feel my heart break.

"Doc, you've been talking about her for the last hour. I would be more surprised if you weren't." Etho explained, the two sounding as if they were walking away.

"She's an amazing fighter! How can I not be!" Doc exclaimed.

I stopped listening before I quickly pulled out my rockets and ran down the hill towards the water. Yea, I couldn't get my rockets out fast enough. I just swam over to Dead Dog Gulch.

It took me longer, but I made it there, walking over to the office, dripping wet. But hey it hid the fact that I was crying. I walked into the office, startling Ren.

"Luna? That was quick. Why are you soaking wet?" Ren asked, walking over to me.

"Fell into the water and had to swim over from the Cowmercial district. Is it alright if I just take the day off? I got the sales. Here." I handed him the shulker box before turning around and walking out.

"See you tomorrow, please stay safe!" Ren called out to me, worry in his voice.

I smiled weakly at him before running out and taking off towards my base. I entered into my base. Heading straight for the bathroom. I dried off and changed before walking to my room. I grabbed the only makeup I had. Something Cleo gave me in the last world, cover up makeup. Yes. I've been fighting with Doc since the S6 1.13 world. I sat on my bed and faced my mirror. I took off my collar and tossed it into the corner. It was a joke gift from Doc. From the first Christmas in the last world. That was the other reason I liked wearing it. There were many reasons but still.

I opened up the makeup and began to cover up all my scars from my fights with Doc. The one on my neck, one going up my left arm, one in the middle of my back, one on my stomach, and the last one, the one over my heart. That one hurt to cover. It was the first time I had fought with Doc and the moment I realized I had a crush on him.

I hadn't even realized I was crying until I felt the tears hit my hand. I looked up at myself in the mirror. Tears streaming down my face.

I looked down at my hands. I was better with explosives then I was with my hands. I can't fight very well with a sword. Maybe I should practice.

I looked outside, it was night time. And BDubs was away for the week. Time to fight some Zombies without using TNT. I lived on the island to the far north, just behind Zedaph's base. I got on my diamond armor, pulled out my enchanted diamond sword. I walked out of my base, instantly finding a Zombie.

I ran towards it, swinging my sword at it only to miss and shove my sword into the dirt, getting mud on my face. I groaned, trying to pull my sword out of the mud.

I could hear the mobs getting closer. I was being too cocky. God dammit! Now I'm gunna get killed by zombies, skeletons, and suicidal creepers! And spider, yuck.

"Ow!" I exclaimed as a Skeleton shot my arm, an area where my armor didn't cover.

I finally managed to get my sword out of the mud and slipped trying to get up. I finally managed to rush back into my base. Closing the door and pressing my back up against it. All I could do was cry as I heard the zombies breaking my door. It didn't take long. Zombies broke my door, and then a creeper blew me up. Of course everyone was notified. I gasped and sat up in my bed, running over to the door and grabbing my stuff before rushing back to my room and switching my spruce door out for an iron door.

"I'm so stupid! Now Doc is probably laughing about how bad I am at PVE. I hate everything…. I think I'm just going to stay in here for a while… I'm sorry Ren sweetie. But I don't think I'll be able to work for a while." I cried to myself, pulling out a book and quill, writing in it like a diary.

#self insert #rendocself #rendog #docm77 #hermitshipping #rendoc #docself #renself #hermitcraft fanfic

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the-sunshine-dims · 5 years ago

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amnesia chapter 2; logan,

ok there was actually some positive feedback of people saying they liked it so bam chapter two electric boogaloo!

[1] [^] [3] [4] [5] [6]

words: 1150

Summary: deceit gets amnesia, the others realize how much they had assumed about this side, and how much information they discarded, they thought this dork who likes making flower crowns and will lie if it’s necessary or too save someone’s feelings, was this evil villain who’s only job was to hurt thomas, and deceit without memory of all of this helps the others feel less guilty, they know they can’t fully be forgiven though,

~*warnings*~ blood, hurt/comfort, angst, amnesia, mention of deceit being treated poorly, mention of a hypothetical corpse,

ao3 link

characters this chapter: deceit, roman, logan, remus (mentioned), patton (mentioned), virgil (mentioned)

all characters that appear in this series: deceit, roman, logan, remus, patton, virgil, king creativity (mentioned) ~~~~~~~~~

By the time Roman had gotten to the hallway outside of logan's room deceit had fallen asleep, Thoroughly exhausted by the shaky sobs, the anxiety, the probable bleeding, just everything,

Roman sighed and took a moment to readjust deceit onto a single arm, careful not to jostle him and wake him up, he exhaled in victory and then gently knocked on Logan’s door, waiting patiently,

Less than a minute later Logan opened the door, looking like he'd been working for hours with no break,

Logan looked annoyed at this disturbance “What is it, roman?-“ he was cut off by the small murmur of a displeased deceit not liking people being even remotely loud as he’s sleeping,

Logan raised an eyebrow at Roman but Roman just pointed inside Logan’s room and mouthed ‘not now, inside,’

Logan shook his head to himself and sighed escorting Roman in, Roman carefully placed the curled up side on logans bed, not missing deceit’s arm trying to find him without opening his eyes and waking himself up completely

Roman chuckled softly and plopped a heated blanket on the side, deceit immediately melted into it, blepping contently, Roman smiled softly, happy that deceit was slightly okayer now

Logan and Roman then walked out of hearing range of deceit

“Ok care to fill me in? About this?-“ Logan’s eyes lingered on deceit for a moment before going back to Roman -“he has dried blood splotches on his clothes and hair,” he added concerned,

Roman sighed “I think he went in the imagination and something attacked him, I also think he might of hit his head,”

“Are you suggesting amnesia? How are you sure he’s not faking it?”

“For one, when he first saw me he looked genuinely confused, and when he saw the family portrait he started shaking and asked where creativity was, and he started outright sobbing when I told him about the split and that he was gone, I don’t think he-“ he vaguely gestured to deceit -“normally would ever allow us to see him cry,”

Logan nodded, thoughtful, “I mean, either way i don't think any side would fake an ailment, hell i think everyones more likely to hide it then showing it, so it is more likely he had gotten hurt in the imagination and hit his head then him faking it,” he glanced back to deceit “it has changed a lot since king creativity was around, so we’ll have to keep an eye on him, incase something dangerous has changed, or he walks into a wall,”

Roman nodded, “sounds like a plan,” he smiled briefly before processing the last words “also tHAT WAS ONE TIME, ONE TIME I RAN INTO A WALL AND THIS IS MY TREATMENT?” he gave a hushed shout, crossing his arms, he sighed and tried to change the subject beck to deceit to save his ego, “and we should make him take a bath,”

Logan laughed softly at roman at romans attempt “ok”

———

Eventually deceit fully wakes up, and Logan and Roman can talk to him,

“Hey, dee, ok so, here’s the thing-“ Roman tried, cutting himself off mid sentence, he didn’t know how to explain to someone that they almost certainly have amnesia or they are really good at acting, which is the statistically less likely, i mean he knows deceits a good actor but just- not about this,

Logan sighed as he knew that it was now his turn at trying to tell him, “ok, we are almost certain you have a case of amnesia,”

deceit took a moment to process the words before eventually muttering “h*ck” using humor to try and cope and distract himself from what…? Being sad? He didn't know, roman and logan didn't know this though, all they knew was he muttered and somehow censored a verbal word, much to the others confusion because how and why did you censor yourself saying heck,

Logan pinched his brows up in confusion before shaking his head, smiling softly, he then continued “also deceit you need to take a bath,-“ he had barely finished before he heard deceit badly trying to hiss at him, apparently the memory of how to properly hiss was also forgotten,

“Nope! I don’t like baths,”

“Come on deceit don’t act childish-“ Logan was interrupted again by more hissing,

“No! I don’t care if it’s childish, I don't like demon that water!” He stated getting a sigh from Logan, Logan had never known deceit didn’t like bathes, and that he disliked it to this extent,

Roman gave Logan a look and tried his turn of telling deceit to not be a nasty gremlin, in the way of dealing with a child, negotiation, “oh so what about this, you take a warm bath to clean off the the dry blood, then when you get out you can wear some warm, clean, comfortable sweaters,” he tried

Deceit stared at roman for a moment before sighing, “fine, i mean i don't have anything better to do, but if the water turns into blood and we find a corpse in the sewers i will personally blame you,”

“Don't worry i’m pretty sure the statistics are not likely,” roman said trying to be reassuring

“-Ignore him he doesn't know Anything about statistics but it’d be a really shotty murder if so, also we’re not real, its litteraly inpossible for us to find a dead body,” he said making roman gasp in mock-offense

Deceit chuckled and that was the end of the conversation, roman set up a pretty bubble bath for deceit, even though deceit told him sternly he knew how to set up a bath, roman just didn't listen, humming happily as he suluted himself out and left the bubble bath and deceit alone,

“Hey logan, i wonder how patton and the emo will react to memoryless, sarcastic, easily excitable deceit,”

“I mean we all used to be friends, patton, me, king creativity, virgil, and deceit, i mean if it wasn't thomas growing up being told by school kids and teachers he was stuck with, that lying is always wrong and if your scared your weak and if you have an imagination that's even a little darker than sunshine and rainbows your wrong, the dark sides and light sides wouldn't have become a thing, so maybe we can… try to get that gap we created to be… mended? It was never fair for the dark sides to be treated so unfairly, so maybe… Patton and Virgil will become friends with deceit again?” he trailed off, “...sorry i don't think i really answered your question, i don't know how they’ll react, virgil and patton are probably the most unpredictable of the four of us,”

Roman hummed, “ok, but i think no matter what we have to let patton know about deceit, though it's getting late, and deceits already sobbed once today, so tomorrow?”

“Tomorrow” he agreed

#ts logan #ts roman #ts deceit #deceit sanders #roman sanders #logan sanders #sanders sides #sanders sides fanfiction #the cold one writes #amnesia series #amnesia tw #amnesia

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thanksjro · 5 years ago

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Telefunken, A Prequel to Eugenesis: The Future Is Obsessed With Making Babies

All These Materials, And I Still Had To Keep The Wiki Open The Whole Time

This short story was included with the secondary publication of Eugenesis, which happened in 2007, six years after the first run. Yep. He had multiple publication runs. Back when you had to actually go and talk to people about what you wanted published instead of doing everything online. For a novel-length fan fiction about murdering space robots and then having them give birth to tentacle monsters.

I wish I had the friggin’ brass balls Roberts does.

Telefunken as a term doesn’t mean anything in any language, but that doesn’t mean we can’t gain any sort of understanding using context clues.

Tele- as a part of Greek, means “from a distance.” So whatever’s happening is far off. In the future, perhaps? The pre-story quotes certainly seem to imply such a thing.

A couple hundred years into the future, actually. With a list like that, one has to wonder just who the hell can get into Maccadam’s these days.

Funken itself actually is a word- it’s German for spark. So “from a distance” + “spark”. Alright, let’s see where this goes.

Is… is this someone trying to convince someone else to read Eugenesis? Is Roberts making the space robots read this batshit story? Is he threatening them? Because making someone read an entire book’s worth of slaughter of their race sort of feels like a threat.

Okay, moving on to actual story, our narrator starts the day by blinding himself. He turns the input on his optics all the way up and stares at the sun.

I don’t know why.

Once he’s done that, he reflects on the nature of change, and how some things just can’t be fixed.

I see we’ve hit our fascist phase. Because they’re only allowed to enjoy the rejuvenation of the planet if they’re wearing Prowl’s face on their chest, right?

Our narrator seems to have an alternate take on the walls, though- seems more like they’re trying to keep the citizens in as opposed to the ruffians out.

Scene jump, and we’re in the middle of a conversation between two folks about some guy who killed an Autobot and fled. Yeah, no one with dialogue has been properly identified as of yet. All I know currently is that one of the conversationalists is a commander. Something tells me Nightbeat’s involved with the scene.

But that’s just a hunch.

So, looks like the Transformers had a little more room for the war buffet after all, because they’ve had at least two named squabbles in the last couple centuries. Hence, our narrator is off to try and corroborate a rumor that Galvatron is still kicking around.

He heads through the religious sector to get downtown, lamenting that Iacon’s been reduced to a military city-state in order to keep some façade of peace going on. He didn’t go through the hell that was the Eugenesis Wars for this.

Ooh, a dash of fantastic racism to really bring out the acidic taste of Orson Welles 1984. Maybe this is Prowl, actually, which would explain why he hasn’t been explicitly named. Would kind of ruin the whole end of the novel, wouldn’t it?

I’m not saying it’s Prowl because of the racism. More the clean dividing of folks into categories and statistical data.

Our narrator walks through the throng, ignores a homeless veteran, and passes by a crowd of Creationists on pilgrimage, and with that he’s off to Autobot City 2: Electric Boogaloo.

Meanwhile, back with the guys reading this account- yes, turns out they’re outside of this particular story- more details are being revealed.

The Turning, you say.

Vampire robots it is, then.

Back with the narrator, he’s just found what he’d been looking for- an Autobot badge, close enough to the real thing to work for his purposes. He heads inside something called an “ingestion tank”- I’m imagining the fucking eating chairs from IDW2- and oh-so-sneakily adds a few screw-looking bombs to the badge.

Hmm. I’m thinking my guesses are just a bit off-base.

Back at the narrative, our narrator has just arrived at the Ministry, where Sideswipe and his boys are truly living up to the ACAB lifestyle- Sideswipe is literally unloading clips into a crowd of protestors. Apparently this isn’t anything new.

Oh-kay. So. Back in the epilogue for Eugenesis, Wheeljack made an offhand comment about Rodimus wanting to look into streamlining the biomorphic reproductive process, using the power of science. This was something Ratchet really wasn’t thrilled about- he’s the Transformer-equivalent to being child-free, I guess- and let me tell you something: if Ratchet thinks something is a bad idea, it almost absolutely is. But it looks like Rodimus got his way, if our narrator’s cryptic statements are to be believed.

Let’s get fucking weird for a second.

Millions of years ago the biomorphic process was decided to be too slow for the colonial ways of the Cybertronian Empire, so morphing centers were created, where protoforms were basically injected with false memories to kickstart their lives. Think MTO programming from IDW, but more mechpreggy. This practice died out when the shortage of energon caught up with everyone, and was left behind for the most part.

EXCEPT FOR THIS. Turns out that Kup actually wasn’t all that old, he just thought he was. Why did they do this? Assumedly for the preservation of their research. Does it factor into anything ever for Kup? Nah, not really. Also:

🄹🄰🄼🄴🅂 🅆🄷🄰🅃 🅃🄷🄴 🄵🅄🄲🄺

Telefunken really is what makes the director’s cut of Eugenesis. This is where all the really weird shit is. If you ever fucking read this nightmare of a book, you better make sure Telefunken is included, because you will be reeling.

Anyway, the planet can’t handle more than a few hundred thousand robots, energon-wise, so the Treaty of Antimorphism was signed- a sort of “no more mechpreg” agreement between the Autobots and Decepticons. Not sure how they’re going to stop someone’s torso from vomiting up a goo baby, seeing as the process appears to be completely random, but they probably know more about the process than I do.

Yeah, that treaty is broken almost immediately. I mean, come on, we know who’s writing this story, it’s amazing that the idea was even remotely considered.

The Autobots decided that they were going to start underground biomorph rings, where Lifers- y’know, the guys who can actually do this sort of thing- spit out protoforms on command to supplement the Autobot forces, in case more war broke out.

They can give birth on command.

I-

I just-

How-

Okay. Sure.

BUT HOW-

Of course, a lot of people had a problem with this, seeing as they already had a solution to the problem of a limited population, in the copies of everyone’s brains Rodimus had commissioned after the events of Eugenesis. Yeah, that’s the root of the problem right there: it was unnecessary. Certainly not the violations of the free will and rights of the poor bastards who got chained to a table and told to start pumping out new robots at what was probably gunpoint in the basement of some bombed out building. Nope! Just that the whole thing was superfluous.

That was about the time that the Anticopyist protests started- how convenient- and the mind crystals were buried, never to see the light of day. Of course, Star Saber might have had a hand in quietly recovering the crystals, but that’s just hearsay.

It’s all going down the tubes, really- High Commands gearing up for the inevitable civil war that’s about to break out amid all this bullshit. Prowl and Nightbeat are trying to put a stop to things, but what are two guys with crippling depression going to do against all this crap? Not much. Especially now that there are Neogens discovering that they aren’t who they think they are.

The slogan is “maximum speed, maximum efficiency.” I’ll let you take a wild guess as to what these weirdos call themselves.

Sideswipe and his goons get done with killing civilians, and our narrator can finally get on with their mission- an interview with Rodimus Prime, who is dying. Again. We just can’t keep our Primes alive, can we? Can’t keep ‘em dead either, but that’s not the point.

But I thought Cyclonus was key.

…I’m sorry, that was dumb.

Anyway, our narrator gets through security, bombs undetected, and prepares to finish his thesis.

These outside conversationalists are kind of morbid, aren’t they? Still, we wouldn’t have the narrative if they weren’t, so thanks? I guess? For being weird voyeurs of terrorist activities?

The narrator makes his way to the basement, where they’ve got Rodimus stashed.

But how are his tiddies? Are they ridiculously huge? Does he breast boobily down the hall towards you? Too bad First Aid’s dead, he’d be all over this behemoth.

You know, last time we saw Springer, his sole purpose in life was getting high. Wonder how he got to this point in just a couple hundred years. That’s nothing to these guys. Guess he traded in the space-heroin for juicing.

Springer, because I guess he’s kind of an asshole in this story, threatens our narrator, saying that he’s got a joor- pretty much an hour- to talk to Rodimus, and one second beyond that he’s throwing his ass out the door. He makes this point very emphatically, and repeatedly. Springer needs to take a chill pill.

With that, our narrator double-checks that his rigged badge is still there- how many times are we going to blow up Rodimus Prime?- and enters the medvault.

Rodimus isn’t doing so hot.

Despite the obvious lag in his brain, Rodimus is happy to be of service to a young student, and invites the narrator to sit and stay awhile.

Now that’s just cruel, Roberts. You gotta give Rodimus something, you already killed his best friend and most of his comrades. No wonder he’s depressed in every continuity, all the writers are mean as hell to our boy Rodders.

Our narrator starts off by asking about Scorponok, and Rodimus takes so long to answer he wonders if the guy just went ahead and died. But Rodimus, ever a good sport, does eventually answer. He talks about all the major Decepticon players, and our narrator smiles and listens, waiting for the point where Unicron is mentioned. He really wants to hear about Unicron, and can practically taste his presence in the room, seeing as Rodimus is still possessed.

You see, our dear narrator is a space-satanist.

Unfortunately, when Rodimus finally utters the name of the robot-devil, nothing happens.

No, see, if the Transformers had Plan B, none of this mechpreg stuff would be fucking happening.

This is where our outside conversationalists come more into play, revealing themselves to be Star Saber- finally entering the story proper- and Great Shot, who I can’t seem to find anything on. We get treated to the security footage from this point on, getting a lovely scene of our narrator yelling at a dying old man, as the two discuss the Turning. It’s a major point of concern for a lot of the troops, and we’re shown why, as Rodimus starts having a Reagan-from-the-Exorcist-level fit about the same time as our narrator drops his bomb. The room explodes, and our narrator escapes out into the world.

From here on, all of the narrative comes from out narrator’s internal recording. He keeps running, beyond the walls of the city and into the Rad Zone, until he hits Eocra. Eocra is where that chunk of space rock from Liars A-to-D was housed. I guess we’ll find out if it’s still there.

He requests an audience with Servion from a member of the Brotherhood of Chaos whom he doesn’t recognize, and is ushered inside.

Into an underground room with a window showing the stars and just packed with Decepticons. Even Blitzwing’s there- I’d figured he’d been one of the POWs who kicked the bucket, but apparently not. Turns out that door he went through was a teleport. They want our narrator’s thesis. He hands it over immediately.

Go for it, guys, his resume from today alone is beyond impressive. He’s done more in the last six hours than most of your top guys have done in their entire careers.

The Decepticons say that they’ll be in touch, and with that they shove him out of the room. Well, that’s that. Guess it’s time to go and see if the rumors about the losers in Kalis are a bunch of bunk after all.

And that’s the end of his datalog.

Back with the ‘Cons, the boys are gossiping about their new hire. Turns out he’s one of theirs anyway- a Neogen, and his name is Tarantulus.

I checked, it’s a valid alternate spelling of his name.

Over with Galvatron- did you honestly think he was dead?- the edgy bastard’s preparing for the Final Purge. Turns out he’s still under Unicron’s thumb, even after all this time. He’s pleased to hear that Rodimus is dying, and recalls being able to corrupt the Lifecode when he needled the Prime during other desperate moments. He decides he’s going to do that again.

Back with Start Saber and Great Shot, the boys are cooking up some tasty treats in their politically-powered lie kitchen. As far as the public knows, Tarantulus was shot to death by the guards when he approached the wall. Prime’s Turned, which sucks for him, but might work out in Star Saber’s favor. Just too bad that that one guard got in between Rodimus and the bomb blast.

So I guess Star Saber being less than piously heroic is just a Roberts thing. Alrighty then.

That’s the end of Telefunken. This answers as many questions as it presents, leaving us at a net-neutral for understanding just what the fuck is going on. Awesome.

#transformers #jro #jro punches me in the face #eugenesis #telefunken #maccadam #Hannzreads #text post #long post #prose writing

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ofphcenixes · 6 years ago

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( ooc note about why i am the absolute worst ! )

this is such a random note i know, and admittedly i’ve spent the entire day composing this. so if it’s a little disjointed or illogical, i want to apologise in advance ! however i have included this nice gif of luke - it doesn’t have anything to do with the post, just thought it would make it more appealing dkjfgdf. admittedly this is going to be a bit of a Long Boi™, but it is kinda.... relevant if you’ve ever tried to write/plot with me, or are wondering what’s going on with nate. behold, all your answers are below ! i’ll put a tldr at the bottom plus a nifty little vine compilation for anyone that reads this but, please don’t feel pressured to do so ! ya girl is just a Mess dkfjgd.

the first thing i want to address is the elephant in the room; nathaniel ballantyne. i know a lot of people are curious about his fate, his place in the plot drop, why he vanished so much earlier than everyone else. is he actually guilty ? is he a martyr ? is he a red herring ? well, here’s the tea on mr nathaniel ballantyne:

he is on indefinite hiatus.

a lot of people probably wonder why. i will get into the specifics of the why in a little bit (when i said this was a Long Boi i was not kidding lmfao), but basically... he’s a very difficult character to write. i am not a veteran rper, and in all honesty, i can count on my hands the amount of rps i’ve been in. and there are only 5 characters i’ve ever written about and cared enough to remember. one of those is nate. for those of you that know him, he is a strange and eccentric character. entirely up his own ass at times, pretentious as hell. but he, to me, was a character i grew attached to. he was different from people i normally write, and despite how abstract he was, he was.... realistic to me. my deep rooted attachment to him is why it took me so long to see how hard it was for me to write replies with him, to understand the guilt i felt any time i plotted or wrote with him, and the fact he was so mentally taxing it would take five times as much time to write a reply for him than it would any other character. but the sad truth is, even though i only felt guilt related to him, even though i haven’t had muse for him honestly for months now, i kept him. because i love him, even if he isn’t loved by many others. and so part of the reason he is now where he is is the simple fact that i know he didn’t mesh with the group, and that’s okay ! he was a very difficult character to reply to, and now that he is gone, i feel that burden of guilt lifting already.

as for his plot related departure, the truth is i didn’t have the heart to kill him off, hence why he kinda is just out there in a weird in between space dkjfgdf. and ( as i’ll explain below ) if my life ever does even out at any point, i really want to bring him back should there be space for him. so this indefinite hiatus was made for many reasons, and it absolutely broke my heart to have to get to this point. i love nate, and i am going to miss him. and i hope that in due time, i will have the capacity to bring him back soon ! but in case i don’t, i just want everyone to know that i appreciate every second i spent writing with you all on nate, and that the time and effort people poured into him means the world to me. and i’m so, so sorry to the people who are disappointed in me for this, because i know there are probably a few. i have let so many of you down, and honestly this is a burden i am going to carry for a very long time. i am going to message people tomorrow when i am more Coherent so, i promise to do my best to atone for this kgdf.

but to segue into that a little more ( oh look, another elephant in the room ! what is this, dumbo 2: electric boogaloo ), as an admin, i know there are expectations we are supposed to meet. examples we should set. precedents we have to lay down.

and i know i have disappointed every single one of you in this rp.

from my slow ( to non-existent ) dash activity, for the anxiety that has left me unable to reply to dms or reply in the main group chat, to even the fear of godmodding in ask memes on a thursday. i know this seems perfectly illogical to most, and again, i completely understand the disappointment that so many of you feel towards me. and it’s that very disappointment which djkgdf ironically has made it harder for me to get on and be the admin that you all deserve.

the real difficult thing about all of this is, i love veritas. and for those of you who were in veritas 1, would know that this is not who i usually am. this experience is not representative of the person i want to be, nor the rper that i usually present myself as. but as to avoid going into too triggering content and bothering you all with tmi details about my life problems lmfao, please rest assured that these past few months have been. absolutely brutal for me. from almost losing my opa to illness, from ongoing family issues and expectations, being kicked out of home among a list of other shit, my mental health has been as low as gfkdgdf it has ever been in my life tbh, and it’s been the hardest thing in the world to get on. all my attentions with veritas has been in the main, as the main is a very taxing job ( as you know, we are very plot centric ! ) and i would more often than not get so worn out with being an admin, my characters fell by the wayside. not to mention, as sort of dkfgjdf touched on before, i have massive anxiety when it comes to messaging people. why ? i don’t know. especially as i have wanted to plot with all of you extensively and deeply since we opened, and reading every single app made my heart beat a little faster with joy. i am so honoured to be an admin here, and each and every one of you are such an incredible writer and person that i can’t help but feel overwhelmed and guitlty about how much i have let you all down. especially for those who sent me dms that i either forgot about or never replied to because i got so anxious, i feel so guilty every day about it all and i just wish i could go back in time and change it.

and the reality is, if i wasn’t an admin and co-creator of this group, i probably would have dropped out a long time ago, give the space to someone worthy, and i wouldn’t be filled with so much guilt. but the truth is, i am a selfish person dgdgdf. veritas has been that sort of dkfgjdf good, steady thing in my life that i looked forward to, and i couldn’t bear the thought of losing that. each and every one of you create the fabric that is this amazing atmosphere, and even though i’m less seen and heard compared to most others in this group, being part of veritas gives me a sense of belonging. and in a strange sense, a home. yes, i know i was selfish, and yes, i should have handled things much better than i did. but you all need to know from the bottom of my heart how sorry i am for everything that has transpired. ):

but i think the worst part of it all is that, my beautiful co-admin maaria, and my best friend. among letting you all down, i know i have let her down the most. and i just want to take my soapbox moment for a second here and really put light into how much maaria has done for this group. especially when my own life has been in shambles, and knowing she’s going through her own problems, she always provides for you all. she is always here, always online, always around to make you laugh or smile. she provides for all of us, and is honestly a miracle worker. i don’t think i will ever deserve her forgiveness for everything, but i hope she knows how loved she is, and i hope you all show her your sentiments too ! she is the heart of veritas, and fdjg she means the world to me, and i just really want her to know that.

but that was. a lot of emotions and obviously i haven’t talked about everything in my life ( i do not want to bore you and honestly i don’t wanna make y’all sad dkfjghdkfjgdfgdf ) none of this really means anything if things aren’t going to change. so get ready for some Bullet Point Action because here is my proposal:

nEw SkElEtOn: although nate is on hiatus and sorta just gonna, float out there in the void of time, and even though i really want to bring him back soon i don’t know if/when i will, i have felt immense guilt for hoarding his spot in this rp for someone who could be more active. hence, a solution: a new skeleton ! as i am not comfortable with nate’s skeleton being open, we have created a new skeleton with connections to all nate’s old connections, which should hit the main very soon !

new discord: this is probably unnecessary but dfkgjdfg i have a lot of anxiety about discord. when i get a new message i’m always like ??? AAH A GHOST. idk why. and because of that, i skip a message once, and now there are so many unanswered messages i have a heart attack every time i open my app. so, to prevent that, i am going to make a new discord account ! ( lilacrps #i forgot the number lmao ). i will be adding everyone as Friends and if you’ve ever sent me something i never responded to, or for some odd reason you wanna talk to me, a human mess, please know now that with a fresh slate i will ensure i can reply to you. i am not gonna let my anxiety win this time.

schedule: part of my issue is that i dfkjgdf always felt pressure to do everything all the time and then when i couldn’t, i fell under pressure. so dkfgjdf i am now having designated plotting and reply days ! so even though i hope to be far more active in both regards, i just need people to understand things won’t be instant, but i am holding myself accountable not only for myself, but for the rp - as that is what an admin should do.

this got super long and i highly doubt anyone is actually gonna read this lmao BUT. the main point is - i love every single one of you all so much, and i can’t apologise enough for how much i have let you all down. i know we all feel it, and i’m more than happy to accept my flaws and how blatant they’ve been in the past few months. so this is my pledge to every single one of you that i promise to do better (and if i don’t, you can kick me out dkjfgdf).

TLDR: I have been a terrible admin and friend, and I’m here to say sorry. With a new discord and personal plotting schedule, things are going to change.

If I can’t cure my depression, maybe I can cure yours.

#( ooc ; i have the power of god and anime on my side ! )#tw: depression #tw: mental health

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agentmothmanstrikesagain · 6 years ago

Text

Search and Rescue pt 2 electric boogaloo

Dib found himself out in the woods, searching desperately for his daughter. The rain had well soaked all his clothes save for his trench coat, but he wasn’t one to give a single fuck about that in a time like this. He could see all these things happening and it was more than overwhelming. For a few brilliant seconds out there he’d thought everything might be ok for once, but it was falling right back to pieces like it always eventually does.

The worst thing, of course, was that he couldn’t see her, like he could everyone else. Zipper was out of his field of vision entirely. He couldn’t see where she’d gone or what might be happening to her. He was being kept from seeing it and he knew it. Every second he went without knowing anything the worse and worse he felt.

The only reason his mind was taken off it right now, was because Nightmare and Nny’s cabin was in sight now. He jogged quickly up to the front door and opened without knocking. They... they weren’t here.... and just his luck that he couldn’t see them either.

Dib hissed in agitation as he entered the cozy little cabin. The fire was barely alive, most of the logs just smoldering at this point. He peered into all the rooms, no Nny, no Paradiso, no Nightma-

Dib paused as his eyes adjusted to the shadows of the last room. There was an enormous cocoon plastered to the wall. One that had been recently ripped open and made a mess of. It was unnaturally big, compared at least to his memory of the last time Nightmare had cocooned.

Dib tried to shove down that nagging little voice at the back of his head that told him something bad had happened here as well. Nonsense. Nightmare can feel the temperature change. It’s 70 degrees out even in the rain. He’s probably just exploring and enjoying the weather. He did come here in the middle of autumn after all.

Dib left in an even more agitated mess. He’d have to go check the house. Maybe even hell if he had to. The fact that Gaz wasn’t answering was the most alarming thing of all. She was always quick to respond, even when she’s busy.

Something bad is happening here. Everyone is disappearing left and right. Who’s going to be next?

That thought stopped him dead in his tracks. Indeed. Who would be next? Would it be Midge? Dek? The whole of team Nebula? Honey? Keef? One of the other Dibs? Christ sakes it had better be him next. He’d give the entire goddamn universe a piece of his mind if he could.

Dib was wracked with paranoia and anxiety as he trekked to the old membrane household where his sister had taken up temporary residency.

The first thing he noticed upon entering the household, was that it was much cleaner now. Gaz had dusted everything off, and given the old place a thorough cleaning. A lot of the family photos and their dad’s self-merchandise was absent now. Even Gaz loathed to think of their childhood memories.

The second thing Dib noticed was the stovetop light in the kitchen was on. But there wasn’t a single sign of anyone being here. Nothing else was on, no food cooking, no shower running. The place was dead silent. It felt eerie and disturbing, and it caused Dib’s hair to stand on end. He stepped forward to go investigate the kitchen when his boot kicked something across the floor.

He looked down and felt his guts twist into a pretzel of worry.

Zipper’s frog umbrella.

It was still wet.

She’d been here.

Recently.

Dib couldn’t think of anyone who’d have a reason to break in and kidnap his family, all without leaving a single trace of their existence behind. Not to mention they might have even nabbed Nightmare... five.. five people...

Dib picked the umbrella up. There were clawmarks on the handle. She’d been scared.... she was gentle with everything she touched.... Dib’s worry turned to a raw feral rage. He felt as though he was on fire.

He looked at Nebula’s tracker pad. He’d find this sick son of a bitch and teach whoever it was, a valuable lesson.

Come on you big overgrown lizard. You can do i-

Dib watched with horror as Nebula’s tracker winked out at the third building on 73′d Oak Avenue. He felt as though he were going to throw up then and there, until he saw it pop back up again once it was out of range of the third building.

Nebula appeared to be circling that entire area for a solid minute, and Dib felt glued to the screen, compelled to just watch and see, until he saw the blinking yellow dot that represented his lizard shoot off down the street and book it for the Team Nebula base. Dib shoved the tracker pad into his trench coat pocket and ran back out into the rain, intent on meeting him there.

He double tapped the top of his communicator and watched it light up as he ran, as fast as a human being possibly can. “CALL SIGI.” He yowled into the communicator, knowing full well that he wouldn’t have left earth until Midge gave him the ok.

#[tw kidnapping]#[Volatile Volition]

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sockablock · 7 years ago

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Chapter 8: The Long, Looping Scrawl

TUSK LOVE 2: ELECTRIC BOOGALOO Today 9:08AM

Lavender Thunder: soooooooo good news and bad news Lavender Thunder: the GOOD news is that gustav isn’t arrested and the cops have cooled off and nobody else is dead Seaman: that is pretty good news Lavender Thunder: yeah well Lavender Thunder: the bad news is that kylre isn’t going to be around anymore Lavender Thunder: and that I think we might need to find some new jobs Lavender Thunder: the Moondrop is gonna be out of commission for like Lavender Thunder: kind of a while

•

Jester, from where she stood next to the couch with her hands over Fjord’s ribs, watched Molly make his way through the front door and into the living room. “What does ‘a while’ mean?” she asked as he approached. “Like…how long is that, exactly?”

Molly collapsed onto the sofa opposite them and shrugged. “My best guess? Probably over half a year,” he said glumly. “It’s mostly to raise funding. Gustav says that he’s got to pay off a heavy fine to the city for all the endangerment his ‘employee’ caused before he’s even allowed to start rebuilding, and then there’s the cost of repairs and the cost of new furniture and the cost of new equipment. Not to mention how long it’ll take to actually fix everything. You should keep an eye out too, Fjord,” he added with a nod to the half-orc, “word on the street is that Fletch will also be closed in the meantime. Gustav or Desmond will probably send out some kind of notice later on today.”

Fjord sighed. “Yeah, I figured something like that might happen.”

“What are you going to do in the meantime, then?” Jester asked. “And what’s everybody else doing?”

“I’m not sure about myself yet,” Molly shrugged. “I know Gustav and Desmond are going to stick around and oversee reconstruction. Everyone else is taking time off to travel and visit family. The Sisters are going back to Felderwin for a bit, and Bosun says he’s going to go backpacking through the countryside. Yasha also took off to do…whatever it is she always does. And Ornna’s taking care of Toya now, though I’m not entirely sure what that entails.”

“I take it that Kylre’s out of the picture, then?” Fjord asked.

“Yeah, what exactly happened to him, anyways?” Jester asked. “You need should be less vague over text.”

Molly’s expression immediately went dark. “It’s…not great, dear. Kylre…well, after the authorities determined that he was a fiend, they elected to…to…”

Fjord sat up as best as he could. “What, Molly? What did they do?”

Molly’s shoulders sagged. “They took him to the Zauber Spire,” he said. “They’re banishing him to the Nine Hells.”

“What?!” Jester shouted. “What do you mean, banishing?”

“I mean that they’re going to send him there for good,” Molly mumbled. “According to what Gustav told us, the police decided that because he’s a fiend, he should be sent back to where ‘his kind’ reside. Whatever the fuck that means.”

Fjord reached out a hand as if to comfort him, and then thought better of it.

“Fuck, Mol,” he said instead. “I’m…I’m sorry."

Mollymauk shrugged listlessly. “It’s no fault of yours,” he said. “It was just…shitty. Complete horseshite.”

They sat there in silence for a few more moments. The distant sound of cars honking drifted up from the streets and through the window.

“Well…” Jester tried eventually, “…at least everybody else is okay?”

Molly snorted. “Yeah,” he said, “yeah, at least there’s that. I guess…I don’t know, I guess in a weird way, life will go on. Just without one of the troupe now, and with a lot of dumb financial problems.”

“Fuck…yeah,” Fjord sighed. “This means I gotta find a new place to work. For the time being, anyhow.”

Jester’s eyes went wide. “Oh, shit!” she said. “Does that…does that still mean we can move in? Or are we going to have to wait a bit, now? I mean,” she added hastily, “it’s okay if we do, totally cool—”

Fjord reached for her hand, and she relaxed.

“It’ll be fine,” he said gently. “As soon as my damn ribs get better, I’ll ask around and see what’s available. Maybe there’ll be something I can pick up at the Leaky Tap, or somethin’, and we can go from there. But…Molly, will you be alright?”

Molly hesitated. He thought for a moment about his bank account, and then considered how tired he was.

“I don’t know,” he sighed. “Maybe?”

Jester, despite the mood, giggled. “That doesn’t sound very responsible of you,” she said.

He gave her a half-smile. “We managed to negotiate the rent down for this year, and I’ve got plenty saved up. Contrary to popular belief, I don’t actually spend that much money.”

“It’s true,” Fjord agreed. “He eats at the Moondrop all the time and gets people to buy him stuff that he sells.”

Molly grinned. “I’m a financial wizard,” he nodded. Then he paused, and added, “but maybe I should look into finding a roommate. If you two decide to go ahead with the apartment plan, that is.”

“We’ll see,” they both said at the same time.

“Alright, you two, alright,” Molly laughed. “Keep me posted. I’m gonna need time if I’m gonna scout someone out that snores less than Fjord. Honestly, I don’t envy you, Jester.”

She started giggling again. “It’s okay,” she said. “I’ll make Caleb find me a silence spell that I can cast on him every night.”

“Hey!” Fjord protested, and then winced. He settled for sinking back down onto the cushions and pouting. “It’s not that bad, is it?”

“It’s really bad,” said Molly. “It’s literally the loudest sound in the entire world.”

•

“That can’t be enough,” Nott commented as she peered over Caleb’s shoulder. “Look at how much water there is! That little cup is nothing.”

“It’s the right amount,” Caleb sighed and turned around to face her. “Believe me, I have done this hundreds of times before.”

“How come?” she asked. “Did you go camping a lot as a kid?”

They were both kneeling in the bathroom, positioned on the tiled floor next to the edge of a very full bathtub. Caleb had begrudgingly dipped into the month’s budgeted water usage, telling himself that he’d take less showers, and after heating the bath with a few magic spells, they were both currently blanketed by a thick layer of steam.

That smelled, rather strongly, of vinegar.

“Not exactly campfires,” Caleb said lightly, “but I suppose that works. Anyways, this is the best way to remove ashy smells from our clothing. I feel terrible, ruining them like this in battle. Especially since your dress was brand new, Nott.”

The little goblin shrugged. “It’s fine,” she said, “I don’t really think they’re ruined.”

“I am sure that you do not, though others may have differing opinions.”

“They always do,” she said solemnly. “I always ignore them.”

They finished hanging up their fancy attire on the neck of the showerhead, then left the bathroom and shut the door tightly behind them. Caleb moved towards his bed, flopped down and buried his face into the pillow. He felt a light weight sink into the mattress near the space by his foot, and he shifted slightly to give Nott more room.

“Thanks,” she said.

“Bitte. Gods, I am exhausted.”

“Me too,” she said. “I don’t even feel like doing anything today.”

“What a night that was, eh?” he asked, muffled but with a mild chuckle. “Certainly more than what I was expecting.”

“I don’t think anyone could have predicted a giant toad monster would turn a guy into a zombie and then fight us in an abandoned warehouse,” said Nott.

There was a beat of silence.

“Ja okay,” he said. “Point taken.”

There was a longer silence after that, in which Nott sprawled upside-down off the edge of the bed and closed her eyes. Caleb shoved his face further into the pillow, and tried to think of a happy place. Or at least, a sleep-inducing one.

Then:

“Those were some pretty good pancakes, though.”

Caleb turned his head. “What?” he asked.

“Those pancakes,” Nott repeated. “That Molly made us. Those were really good.”

He blinked. “Er…yes,” he agreed hesitantly. “They were rather nice, yes.”

“And it was really nice of him to let us use his bathroom,” she said. “And it was nice that he gave us clothes, and blankets, and made us tea. Even if it was creepy tea.”

Caleb nodded slowly. “Yes?” he said. “That is…true. Er…is there something you have to say about all that?” he asked.

“Yeah,” she said. “There is. Last night was just…really nice. I liked it.”

“Despite the death and monster and fighting?” he asked with a raised eyebrow.

She nodded. “Yeah. To be honest, I don’t think that stuff really matter too much.”

“Was? Why is that?”

Nott smiled. “Because we have friends now,” she said. “A lot of them.”

Caleb rolled over onto his back and stared up at the chipped ceiling. He considered this.

“Ja…I suppose we do.”

Nott’s smile widened. “I like them,” she said. “It was fun before, with just the girls, but after everything we all went through together, it sort of feels like…I guess it sort of feels like this whole group is a family.”

Caleb felt something flicker in his chest. He tamped it down immediately.

“I see,” he said eventually.

Nott giggled. “It’s okay if you don’t want to agree with me. I know the truth, anyhow.”

“Do you? What is that?” he asked, almost dreading the answer.

Nott closed her eyes again. “You like them too,” she said.

For a long, long while, Caleb thought of something to say.

And then, when nothing came, he closed his eyes as well and eventually fell back asleep.

•

“Beauregard!” Jester shouted, bursting into their apartment, “are you awake?! I am home! And ready to…”

She trailed off and looked around the empty kitchen. The lights were off, and the windows drawn shut, leaving only thin trails of light creeping in around the curtains. She dropped her purse, and the plastic bag that held her dress onto the floor, and took a few steps forward.

“Beau?” she called, quieter this time. “…Beau…? Are you there?”

Almost immediately, something began to stir at the back of her mind. Something heavy, and unbidden, and unnerving, and old. She felt her hand unconsciously reach into her pocket, and clutch a small metal object on a thick leather cord. She traced her fingers along its smooth surface, and relaxed slightly as a familiar warmth washed over her.

She took a deep breath, forcing herself to relax further, and had just recovered her signature cheery smile when her eyes caught a single piece of paper lying on the kitchen table.

She ran towards it quicker than she probably would have liked. She immediately began to read the long, looping scrawl across its surface.

Jes—

I went to take care of some shit. I’ll be back tonight, but I’m not sure if I’ll be ready to talk to you about it ‘til later. I trust you more than any of these other assholes we call friends, so please don’t be upset if I don’t say shit when I return, alright? And please, please don’t ask any questions. I promise that the second I’m ready, I’ll tell you everything.

See you later,

Drunkmonk

She stared at the frustratingly short letter for a few more seconds. She flipped it around, saw nothing, then flipped it back over.

“Beau will be back tonight,” she whispered. She took another deep breath, and nodded. She carefully folded the page and slid it into her pocket.

“Did you hear that, Traveler?” she asked the air in front of her. “Beau is fine! She’s just running errands. And, and she said that she trusts me! Isn’t that cool?”

Jester was still, and silent for a moment. Her ears twitched as if listening to a far-off song.

“I agree,” she said eventually. “Also, thanks for helping out earlier with Fjord! I’m really glad he’s okay. And I’m really glad you were there for us.”

Another pause. Another strange, silent hum.

And then she laughed and nodded brightly. “That’s a great idea! Come on, I think I remember where I put it. We were on chapter nine, right?”

And then she skipped into her bedroom, leaving the door wide open behind her.

•

TUSK LOVE 2: ELECTRIC BOOGALOO Today 6:19PM

Seaman: good news yall! Seaman: Wessick says that the Tap’s looking for an evening bartender, and he says ive got the job! Seaman: which ALSO means yall get a friends and family discount for karaoke Seaman: probably Lavender Thunder: HECK YEAH Lavender Thunder: THAT’S AWESOME FJORD Lavender Thunder: why didnt you tell me that to my face though we live in the same house Seaman: i wanted to spread the happy news all at once Molly Seaman: also I still cant move and you went into your bedroom Seaman: sue me (ﾉ◕ヮ◕)ﾉ*: that’s AWESOME (ﾉ◕ヮ◕)ﾉ*: FJORD IM SO HAPPY FOR YOU Seaman: thank you Jester NottSoBrave: fjord you need to respond more energetically than that NottSoBrave: you shouldnt leave a lady wanting NottSoBrave: otherwise someone could snatch her up Lavender Thunder: oh and what do you know about women? NottSoBrave: i happen to BE a WOMEN NottSoBrave: woman NottSoBrave: whatever NottSoBrave: oh also Caleb says congratulations Seaman: thank you Caleb Seaman: and thanks for the relationship advice, i think? Seaman: don’t mention it Seaman: hey beau and yasha, what’re you going to do? (ﾉ◕ヮ◕)ﾉ*: beaus busy right now (ﾉ◕ヮ◕)ﾉ*: but im sure she’ll answer later! Lavender Thunder: ditto for yasha Lavender Thunder: that’s just how she do NottSoBrave: how mysterious NottSoBrave: why are they gone? NottSoBrave: is yasha a spy? is Beau a spy Lavender Thunder: yes Lavender Thunder: theyre spies

Nott looked up from her phone screen, stared at Frumpkin dead in his clear blue eyes.

“Hear that?” she said. “I knew it.”

“Spatz!” Caleb called from the kitchen. “Come on, your noodles are getting cold!”

“Coming!” she yelled back. She gave Frumpkin one last solemn nod, then tossed her cell onto the covers and scuttled out of the bedroom.

•

Beau arrived home that night well after sunset. She shut the front door behind her as quietly as she could, but frowned and looked around suspiciously when she noticed that all the lights were still on. Then she saw the living room couch, and her gaze softened.

Jester was laid out on the cushions, fully dressed and fast asleep. There was a tray on the coffee table in front of her, piled high with pastries and sporting a now-chilly cup of hot chocolate. A note next to the tray read:

For Beau!

She sighed. “You little weirdo,” she said, “you didn’t have to wait for me.”

She slid her backpack onto the carpet and carefully lifted Jester into her arms, bridal-style. She made it all the way to Jester’s extravagant canopy bed, and was almost done tucking her in, when she stirred awake.

Jester’s eyes slowly peeked open. Her irises glowed in the darkness.

“Beau?” she mumbled. “Is that you?”

“Yeah, Jes,” she said. “I’m back.”

Jester’s brow furrowed slightly. “You…your face is messed up.”

Beau reached up, felt the tender skin around her bruised eye and split lip. She shrugged and gave Jester a faint smile. “It’s nothing,” she said. “I fell.”

“That’s a lie,” Jester murmured, and closed her eyes. “But it’s okay. You said you trust me, and I trust you too. You can tell me whenever you’re ready.”

Beau was silent for a moment. Then she sighed. “…thanks, Jes,” she said eventually.

“I’m glad you’re home,” came the sleepy response. “I’m glad you came back to me.”

Beau scoffed. “Of course I did,” she said. “Why the fuck wouldn’t I?”

There was no answer. After a moment, Beau pulled the blankets up to Jester’s shoulder, turned around, and went back to her room.

•

And then, after that, life more-or-less returned to whatever semblance of normalcy it had once held, for most of them.

For most of them.

•

TUSK LOVE 2: ELECTRIC BOOGALOO Today 10:22AM

Lavender Thunder: guysssss Lavender Thunder: whos around??!!?? Lavender Thunder: im bored out of my goddamn mind Lavender Thunder: and yashas still gone (ﾉ◕ヮ◕)ﾉ*: ughhhh sorry mollyyyy I have class now (ﾉ◕ヮ◕)ﾉ*: and Fjord too right now Lavender Thunder: ah its arlight dear Lavender Thunder: anybody else? Drunkmonk: i hate you, so no Drunkmonk: but actually im also doing stuff right now Lavender Thunder: fuck off Lavender Thunder: nott and Caleb? NottSoBrave: calebs working at the library toady NottSoBrave: and I don’t want to hang out with you Lavender Thunder: wow alright then (ﾉ◕ヮ◕)ﾉ*: Nott!! Apologize to Molly!! NottSoBrave: sorry Lavender Thunder: gee thanks Lavender Thunder: anyways have fun doing your stuff yall Lavender Thunder: i guess ill ,, read a book or something

Molly lowered his phone.

He was seated on his bed, wrapped up in his silk pajamas, staring out the window at the bright and bustling city landscape beyond.

This was a strange feeling. Here he was warm, and comfortable, and the sunlight gently caressed his skin with its soothing morning rays.

But today he should have been at the Moondrop. Today he should have been in the dark backstage performer’s lounge, helping the sisters with their makeup, or watching Desmond tune his instruments, or failing to stack crates as high as Yasha could, or riffing with Bo or giving Toya piggy-back-rides or pestering Ornna or chatting lazily with Kylre or learning about sound equipment from Gustav or even bemoaning the lack of proper lighting above his dresser mirror as he tried to apply his favorite glittering eyeshadow before the afternoon shows began.

Instead, he was here.

For the first time in his entire, extraordinarily short life, Mollymauk Tealeaf felt alone.

And he realized now, with rising dread, that he had absolutely no idea what to do about it.

• • •

hey guys! Just letting you know, I’m going on a short hiatus now that Arc 1 is complete! Updates will definitely be coming, as I take time to sort out my other WIPs and adjust to college and the UK. Thank you so much for reading!!!

💚 ☕ ☕ 💚

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queersatanic · 4 years ago

Text

Introduction

Part A

Part B<-You are here

Part C

Part D

Part E

Part F

Part G

Part G cont.

In Closing

Let’s talk about the shitty way they admit to treating members even without suing them, b/c they also included our side of how we were removed as supporting evidence, and it provides some illuminating context as to how the judge finds some of their claims insufficient.

TST kicked me out (and several others) b/c we had been witnesses to an internal ethics complaint that made the regional leadership look bad, in part b/c it brought to light the mishandling by the same leadership of a complaint about persistent sexual harassment from years earlier

Both complaints had been filed in “the proper channels”—but this time, the fact that the victim wanted to include anyone else for transparency’s sake exposed that the existing leadership only intended “the proper channels” to be a black box by which to make complaints disappear.

All of the witnesses - everyone outside the black box - were removed without any more notice than it took to be accused of forming a rogue faction to bully/undermine leadership.

I will never forget that their notion of an investigation into a rogue faction involved unilaterally removing me - a founding member of TST’s WA chapter over 5 years ago, who created room for dozens of new people looking for a community.

While I was on medical leave.

One person who was removed hadn’t even been CC’d on the ethics complaint, but was dating someone who was.

That was just enough to implicate them as a loose end, apparently, and so that person was removed in the same manner as well.

Local leadership was in such a hurry to disappear the ethics complaint & manage the narrative to remaining members that they didn’t even care that some of the “witnesses” were the admins of TST’s local social media.

A week later, with no direct contact, they still were.

In their amended complaint, TST chose to describe all of this as “organizational failures” and “inflammation of interpersonal conflicts” on our part - either one of which is a hell of a euphemism for the “guilt by association” approach that they actually deployed.

This is why, despite Facebook telling them directly that was not the case, TST alleges we “hacked” their social media. They couldn’t convince FB into agreeing to an ad-hoc notion of hacking, so TST decided to pick a softer target & make us prove it wrong in civil court.

A judge already agreed with us once, and we’ll be pointing it out again: TST's allegations are fatally hedged with speculative and conclusory statements to make up for the lack of supporting evidence.

And the fact that at least one claim so far has been dismissed for TST’s failure to allege they communicated their demands explicitly, makes a lot of sense in light of our removal as it actually occurred - as a cover-up of abusive and negligent leadership.

The farcical, paranoid notion of “The Satanic Temple 2: Electric Boogaloo” is just an expensive, scaled-up version of the story used to justify expelling us: that exposing systemic abuse in a way that can’t be ignored is the act of a “rogue faction” that needs to be suppressed.

Yet, this is the organization that people trust to undo the damage wrought by the religious right.

United Federation of Churches LLC v. Johnson et al

The Satanic Temple, an allegedly progressive religion that claims to fight religious overreach, is secretly spending tens of thousands in litigation to target former members after TST's owners were criticized on FB for a pattern of failing to live up to their own professed tenets

It’s not clear how much money TST has spent on the suit so far, where that money has come from, or what membership—if any—was consulted in deciding to devote so many resources to this SLAPP action, but it's lasted more than a year, including re-filing after a judge's dismissal

Tomorrow (June 8), the defendants will submit another, hopefully final, motion to dismiss the case for good.

I’m one of those defendants. Let’s talk about it. This is an extremely long thread, but I have receipts for everything.

Now, the suit is still going, so I can’t go into *everything* wrong with the complaint.

But I CAN point out it exists, that TST has deliberately kept it going despite the judge dismissing the original complaints back in Feb, and repeat/quote what the court documents say so far.

Mostly I want to focus on the most egregious aspects of this suit, but in case you feel like following along in greater detail, one of the other defendants has uploaded the court documents here to get around paywalls

Public record is fair game too. That’s important b/c TST’s betrayal of its own values (via this suit’s existence) makes more sense given how they’re legally structured and how they work to obfuscate this.

This suit is a window, legally, into what they really are.

Other members & even whole chapters have left, both before and after us, taking all their social media pages with them. None were ever sued on strained accusations of “hacking.”

But we were, and TST threw in a bundle of even flimsier complaints just to draw it out longer.

We can’t read minds, but we think why this may be is based on the fact that we didn’t just leave quietly, but also talked publicly about some of the other corporations TST’s owners have, and what names are on official documents for them, according to the already-public record.

We’ll come back to this - for now, just keep in mind that TST’s two founders have apparently been willing to sign both their legal names AND their pseudonyms on the same legal document, while also using the same name for a for-profit corp as they do their nonprofit “church”

The fact that we can publicly quote court documents is especially cool b/c TST thoughtfully included our statements & so-called “manifestos” as supporting evidence, even though they expose some gaping holes in their argument and raise serious questions about how TST treats people.

#The Satanic Temple #TST #Satanic #Satanism #Lucien Greaves #Malcolm Jarry #United Federation of Churches LLC #SLAPP #Queer Satanic #QueerSatanic

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mycasandstarrs · 7 years ago

Text

SPN 4x22: “Lucifer Rising”

Beginning like we always do, with “Carry On Wayward Son”.

St. Mary’s Convent. Ilchester, Maryland. 1972.

So this is Azazel...

I feel so bad for these nuns who have no idea what’s going on, and they are terrified.

RIP nuns. That is so awful.

Hello, Sam.

Now Sam can see Dean’s side.

G o d, this breaks my heart.

It’s so sad that even if there were an “after” (which there wouldn’t have been if everything went 100% according to plan) Sam still would have distanced himself from Dean, because he thought he’d never be forgiven and it would’ve been the “best” for Dean. (He could not be any more wrong.)

Sam and Dean appearing on screen the same way.

Hello, Dean.

“I’m not calling him.”

“Don’t make me get my gun, boy.”

I love Bobby.

I believe Bobby’s gonna go on his outburst soon.

Dean losing the will to save Sam.

Let the outburst begin:

“You sound like a whiny brat. No, you sound like your dad. Well, let me tell you something. Your dad was a coward.”

“My dad was a lot of things, Bobby, but a coward?”

“He’d rather push Sam away than reach out to him. Well, that don’t strike me as brave. You are a better man than your daddy ever was. So you do us both a favor. Don’t be him.”

IIIII FUCKING LOOOOVVVEEE BOBBY SINGER!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

And here we go. Dean’s in the Green Room

Hello, Cas!

(Who looks like he doesn’t want to be there...)

HOW DID NO ONE NOTICE THIS NURSE taking the baby to somewhere besides where it was supposed to be???

Dean’s favorite food and beer.

“The suite life of Zach and Cas.” lmao, Dean.

(Those paintings are beautiful.)

“We want you...focused, relaxed.”

“Well, I’m about to be pissed and leaving, so start talking Chuckles.” (That’s a great line! How come i never noticed that before?)

Cas is just internally screaming at this point. Hell, he’s been internally screaming non-stop since “the Rapture”.

Sammy, our new hot shot interrogator.

I am still so UPSET that Sam never got to hear the REAL voicemail. Fucking Zachariah was behind it, I’m sure. (After episode thought: apparently, Eric Kripke refused to reveal if it was Zachariah OR RUBY WHO MANIPULATED THE VOICEMAIL??? Holy shit, that would explain the smirk she gives when Sam finally listens to it, r i g h t before they enter the Convent. It did seem like convenient timing...)

“Hey, it’s me. Uh...Look, I’ll get right to it. I’m still pissed...and I owe you a serious beatdown, but I shouldn’t have said what I said. You know, I’m not Dad. We’re brothers. You know, we’re family. And uh, no matter how bad it gets, that doesn’t change. Sammy, I’m sorry.”

(Should’ve done that earlierrrrr.)

The one thing I got in common with Lilith’s head chef is that we both think Ruby’s a bitch.

“Can’t trust anyone these days.” Especially yoouuuuu.

Well damn. That is such a dirty card to play.

Poor Sam. I bet nothing scared him more/allowed him to see how extremely fucked up the whole situation was than that moment.

Back to 1972.

Lucifer possessing a nun. Nothing creeps me out more.

The very origin of...everything.

Nice “surprised” reaction, Ruby.

My stomach is in an actual knots knowing that they drained an innocent woman of her blood just because Sam needed all of it to defeat Lilith.

(Also, why couldn’t Sam just overrule Ruby and kill the demon anyway, forcing her to find another one? God, Sam, you’re in it so deep.)

Dean, you child.

The fucking intensity between Dean and Cas...

It’s kinda...striking how Ruby seemed to almost slip into the role of Dean sometimes, with the ill-timed jokes she’s been making. And Sam’s responses to her remind me of how it used to be between them in S3 when he flat out hated her and resented needing her help, as opposed to when he began to trust her and earnestly defended her against everyone. He snaps at her, and is done with her. Hell, what did Sam even plan to do with Ruby once they “stopped” Lilith?

“I’m starting to think...maybe Dean was right.” HE IISSSS SAM.

(And Ruby is internally screaming at the fact that she’s ALMOST THERE and the one person she needs to accomplish this has one foot out the door.)

I can’t wait for Dean to kill Zachariah.

Half the truth tumbles out. They’re going to allow Lilith to break the final seal.

That shot of Zachariah is so freaking cool.

G O D I love how the lighting changes as the (half) truth comes out. From the beautiful, glowing light to “fluorescent lighting in your old high school that makes you look like you aged 20 years.” It’s ugly, just like the (half) truth being revealed.

Even the paintings change!

(So at this point, was the Apocalypse AU about to go to shit?)

“Sam...has a part to play. A very important part. He may need a little nudging in the right direction, but I’ll make sure he plays it.” FUCK YOU, YOU BALDING BITCH.

“pertinent details” my ASS.

“You’re going to stop Lucifer.” One of the few times Zachariah is right, whether I like it or not.

“One day we’ll look back on this and laugh.” ...I guess now we can.

“God? God has left the building.” There’s such an emptiness in Zachariah's eyes when he says that.

Completely irrelevant, but Lilith’s dress is really pretty.

This is one of my all time favorite Dean/Cas scenes, and one of the most important scenes in the entire series, you can fight me about it.

“He’s gonna do it to himself.” Cas is unfortunately correct

“We’ve been through much together, you and I, and I just wanted to say I’m sorry it ended like this.”

lmao, RIP Dean’s hand.

“What is so worth saving? I see nothing but pain here. I see inside you. I see your guilt, your anger, confusion. In paradise, all is forgiven. You’ll be at peace. Even with Sam.” god Cassss.

The way Dean gets Cas to look at him. Fuck me up.

(x)

OOOHHH THAT GRAB.

Cas fighting his internal battle.

“If there is anything worth dying for...this is it.”

DEAN PLS, HE JUST DOESN’T WANT TO END UP THE NEXT LUCIFER BC HE’S BEEN TOLD ALL HIS LIFE THAT THINKING INDEPENDENTLY IS BAD AND LEADS TO FALLING WHICH IS THE WORST THING AN ANGEL CAN DO

P L E A S E.

OH GOD NOOOO, NOT THE MANIPULATED VOICE MAIL.

“Listen to me, you blood sucking freak. Dad always said I’d either have to save you or kill you. Well, I”m giving you fair warning. I’m done trying to save you. You’re a monster Sam, a vampire. You’re not you anymore. And there’s no going back.”

So Ruby heard that?? Because she’s smirking like she did, and she’s damn pleased with that final little strand finally being cut.

RIP Cindy the nurse.

OOHHH MY OTHER FAVORITE DEAN/CAS SCENE IN THE EPISODE/OF THE SERIES.

Dean almost committed a Persephone move there.

Oh shit wait, CAS had the knife??? I thought Dean would’ve picked it up after the fight with Sam...unless he did, and when the angels took him to the Green Room, they took the knife from him...but why not take the phone? Fuck, I’m overthinking.

THAT SILENT CONVERSATION THOOOOOO.

THAT SLIGHT TOUCH WHEN CAS GIVES DEAN THE KNIFE BAACCCKK

“Lilith is the final seal. She dies, the end begins.” THE FULL TRUTH COMES OUT, THANK YOU CAS.

Hello, Chuck.

“This isn’t supposed to happen.” DEAN AND CAS TEARING UP THE SCRIPT PART 2: ELECTRIC BOOGALOO, BITCHES

RIP those demons.

THEM HEART EYES.

(x)

Lmao, I love how Chuck is more annoyed at the archangels coming than scared.

“It’s the Archangel! I’ll hold him off, I’ll hold them all off! Just stop Sam!” Cas’ final words. #1

I don’t care what canon says, Cas is Chuck’s favorite angel.

Cas couldn’t have zapped Dean directly in the room???

Dean HAD TO STOP to give Ruby the stink eye?????

I know what’s about to happen, and I’m still hoping that it’s not going to happen like it’s my first time watching.

Sam goes to scary af killer to lost, confused little boy once he hears Dean.

“You turned yourself into a freak. A monster. And now you’re not gonna bite? I’m sorry, but that is honestly adorable.” Lilith’s last words. Making sure Sam broke the final seal.

Sam let’s his emotions get the best of him, an unfortunate conclusion.

RIP Lilith.

“And it is written that the first demon shall be the last seal.”

G O D that moment when Sam realizes what he just did. It’s so despairing.

“You don’t even know how hard this was! All those demons our for my head. No one knew. I was the best of those sons of bitches! The most loyal! Not even Alastair knew! Only Lilith! Yeah, I’m sure you’re a little angry right now, but I mean, come on, Sam! Even you have to admit, I’m- I’m awesome!”

I fucking hate Ruby with all that I have...but she is one of the best antagonists this show ever had. She kept quiet about her plans the entire time and waited until they were complete to brag about it in one of the best villain speeches I’ve ever heard. She is awesome, in her own twisted fucked up way, and for that...I kinda love her.

Well damn it, Sam.

AND SHE’S STILL CALLING HIM SAMMY.

Ruby earnestly fell in love with Sam. Like, I’m sure she was already planning their future together, where Sam is possessed by Lucifer and she got to be his right hand...woman. Demon. But she like, LOVED him in a disgusting toxic way, stroking his face and assuring him that he was gonna be ok. I think she was seconds away from telling him that they’d be “happy together.”

AND YOU KNOW WHAT, at least when Cas was lying to Dean about how everything was going to be okay, even if the Apocalypse was going to be allowed, he told Dean that it’d be him and Sam. Ruby completely cuts off Dean from her little “it’s going to be alright” speech.

Dean finally breaks in.

“You’re too late.” Ruby’s final words.

She is completely feeling herself in this moment, confidently strolling up to Dean like that. Was she going to kill him? Did she not see her own knife in his hands?

I love everything about how Ruby dies: the fact that Sam, who is desperate to do at least one thing right, grabs her to make sure she doesn’t escape. The look of confusion on Ruby’s face, because she genuinely can’t believe that Sam is doing this to her, after everything they’ve done together. And while she’s trying to get a hold on the situation, Dean not only stabs her WITH HER OWN KNIFE but also TWISTS IT. I believe there is a moment where Ruby seems to realize that she is dying and Dean Winchester is the one who kills her, while her “lover” is holding her down, and she’s worked so hard to free Lucifer...and she won’t even be around to claim her prize. It’s so wonderful; I can’t really think of a way to make it better.

RIP Ruby. Ding dong, the bitch is dead.

Y’know, when I did my SPN Rewatch last year, I made note of all the time Cas and Ruby paralleled each other (because I considered them to be different sides to the same coin) and one parallel I’m noticing just now is that both of them achieved something they’ve been working hard at (Ruby: freeing Lucifer, Cas: telling Dean the truth/getting Dean to Sam) and they both died as soon as it was achieved.

“I’m sorry.”

“Sammy, let’s go.”

“Dean...he’s coming.”

SUCH A PHENOMENAL ENDING. I remember screaming “NOOOOO” at the laptop, then immediately hitting “Play next episode” when I first saw this.

This is still one of the best season finales of the entire show. Top 3, for sure.

#supernatural #spn summer rewatch #spn liveblog #spn 4x22 #a lot of love when into this one

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