#may watch Rogue One at some point too

[nothinggold13]

*watches the prequel trilogy with the og trilogy once* GUYS I THINK I UNDERSTAND STAR WARS NOW

[kcrabb88]

I think one of the things I've found most frustrating about sections of Star Wars fandom since being more active in it (rather than just being a Star Wars appreciator) is that some folks are constantly looking for a reason that the Jedi "caused" or worse "deserved" what was coming to them with Order 66. It's hard and horrible to watch the Jedi get slaughtered in Revenge of the Sith, so people search for a reason that it was, in some sense, justified. But that's not what genocide is. No group can "bring a genocide on themselves." It doesn't matter WHAT mistakes they may make. The whole point of the Clone Wars all the way down to destroying Jedha City in Rogue One was to wipe out not only the Jedi themselves, but the memory of them, so that the empire can fully take root.

And this is why the end of the Acolyte finale felt so so so bad to me. It was meant to be, or so I believed, a show about how the Sith were getting closer to their goal of getting rid of the Jedi as we close in on the century before The Phantom Menace. I sat there, I waited for the narrative intention to set in, and that narrative intention surprised me by saying "ah yes, well, some Jedi made mistakes and it was fine for one to be murdered HORRIBLY as a result, and the subsequent cover up of all of it is just the Jedi wanting to avoid senate knowledge of what really happened because the Jedi are too powerful." It's like, nevermind that the SENATE is the power here, and the Jedi long-ago agreed to help them out but are being shouldered with more and more and more and they may have the Force but they are still only people (which the High Republic books show REALLY well). It's like, nevermind that Star Wars is about redemption and always trying to be a better person and learning from our mistakes! It wasn't a situation, when Osha kills Sol in a nasty and cruel way, where you see a person going corrupt and know the narrative behind it is like "oh shit, this is a bad turn for them!" It felt like the narrative was saying she was justified (at least to me) and that's just. Sad? Bleak? The end of the finale felt to me like "hey, some Jedi made some mistakes while trying their best once, and that's why these Sith get to do whatever and that's why the Jedi walked right into their own demise."

When the scene with the senator happened, I thought, oh, interesting, we're going to see the prejudice against Force-sensitives here that leads to the senate clapping in the face of genocide. That leads to the safehouse in Kenobi where we see Force-sensitives carving messages of hope into the wall while they're being hunted down and killed. But that's ... not what happened. In the end, it felt like the narrative said, "yep that guy is right, the Jedi are a power-grabbing cult." It just felt bad, man. I thought this was going to be a story about the lineage leading up to Plagueis and Palpatine and I thought, interesting, I'd love to see that, but it just ended up being this messy thing with clunky writing and a bunch of loose ends that teased me with Jedi characters and then said "eh, these guys deserved it."

We got to see a kyber crystal bleeding for the first time in live action, and I can't even be excited about it! Did we ever really find out how Osha and Mae were created and what weird stuff the witches were up to? Nope! Just woah disappointing as far as even learning new stuff about how the dark side corrupts the Force, and that was one thing I was interested in as the show started to go downhill for me in later episodes.

(RIP Sol, Jecki, and Yord. You deserved better than that, and Vernestra, so did you)

[flamingpudding]

Fictober23 Prompt: 18 - "We can't do this on our own."

Fandom: DPxDC

Rating: T

Warnings: Slight mentions of DannyXBruce ship

A/N: Inspired by the comments and Reblogs of Prompt 17. I advise to read that one first before reading this, also posting this early because I won't have the time to do that tomorrow. Credits for inspiring this continuation go to @charlietheepic7 and @noxcheshire

After the babysitting disaster Dick had sworn Tim and Damian into secrecy about. The bat-sibling had quickly warmed up to the phantom children and invited them several more times to visit them at the manor. Damian had even doubled his efforts in getting along with them, still believing they were his half siblings, despite Bruce having tried to explain to them in private that this wasn't the case.

Of course that didn't mean that Damian wasn't butting heads with them at all, in fact they were only sitting together like this now because Damian and Dan had gotten into a fight about whether or not Phantom was an adequate partner for Bruce. Dan appeared to have taken offense to that in some form and declared that Bruce was the one not suited to be with his Mom.

The fight ended with Dani, five years old little girl Dani, kicking down both Damian and her own brother, before proceeding to sit on Dan while loudly yelling that he was risking their entire plan of setting up their Mom with Uncle Bruce so Auntie Valerie would stop trying to be their Step Mom. Which brought them back to their current situation of the five of them sitting together in the main hang out room.

Dan grumbled inaudible, arms crossed and glaring at the bat children assembled before him. Dani giggled, nudging her big brother's leg. "Don't go nonverbal now!"

"Nonverbal?" Dick couldn't help but question, causing Dan to snarl at him while Dani still smiled very brightly at them.

"Big Brother sometimes only talks in growls and snarls. Auntie Jazz said it's got something to do with what he's been through. Mom says big brother isn't socialized enough yet." The boy only growled, glaring at them while he pulled the little girl into a hug and made her sit between his legs, making Dani giggle once more grinning bridely. The two Phantom children were seated on a loveseat together now in the general hang out room of Wayne Manor. Dick, Tim and Damian sat across from them on the couch.

The bat kids exchanged glances. Bruce can try as he might, there was no hiding the relation he had with the Phantom kids. There were too many things that added to the fact that the kids had to be Damians half siblings.

Damian looked rather disgruntled, arms also crossed as he turned to return Dan's glare with the same intensity. "Father, may have been trying to hide you from us but his attempts at gaining Nightingale favor are just as pathetic as the excuses he has been giving us in regards to our relation."

Tim arched an eyebrow. "I was not even aware that Bruce tried to flirt with Phantom at all."

Dick patted Tims shoulder in mock condolence. "I have seen the Phantom-Batman dynamic since my days as Robin… It was horrible and painful to watch. Jason can attest to that."

"Mom is as dense as a neutron star." Dan muttered looking away from them.

As if realizing something Dani blinked a couple of times before staring wide eyed at Dick and pointing with one hand at him. "You're the menace Robin! You're the one that asked Superman to throw you high into the air so you could do flips! Mom even said that you asked him once if he could phase you halfway through a wall or turn you invisible to scare your rogues!"

Both Tim and Damian stared at their older brother unimpressed.

"I guess that did happen. Well back to topic!" Dick tried to deflect which sort of worked. But more because Tim got curious about something.

"I don't get how you guys know about us but we didn't know about you two at all. Phantom never mentioned either of you before, not even when he came to visit as Danny. Before we were told about him being Phantom." Tim muttered, completely ignoring Dick as he turned his attention to the two kids. The two children in turn exchanged knowing looks.

"Mom and Auntie Jazz were worried that big brother would get PTSD seeing the Justice League. That's why Uncle Bruce and Superman are the only ones who really knew about us." Dani explained looking up at her older brother who suddenly sported a feral grin, showing off suddenly very sharp appearing teeth. "Though Superman learning about us was more a spur of the moment than intentional telling him."

"Mom was so mad at him." Dan mentioned his sharp teeth glinting as he exchanged a feral look with his sister. It sent a shiver down the batkids' back, making them remember that the kid mentioned he had apparently murdered all of them before. The image of little ten years old Dan standing in a sea of blue fire and laughing like a maniac crossed their minds for a brief moment before they pushed the memories of the babysitting disaster into the depths of their minds again. "He would have beat him up if Uncle Bruce didn't stop him. Instead Mom put Supes through the lecture of a lifetime using us as his how-it's-supposed-to-be example."

"Oh and we met big bro J when Frostbite helped with his treatment!" Dani added clapping her hands together all cutely while her brother on the other hand ended up growling. "He still owns me a spar."

"That… explains nothing." Tim retorted, eyes narrowed at the two kids who only shrugged refusing to explain any more than they had.

Damian meanwhile ended up glaring at nothing as he crossed his arms muttering something about punishing Todd for having been in cahoots with his father and keeping his younger siblings from him. Dick smiled, their youngest apparently really like the thought of having two younger siblings of his own now.

"Can we please get back to topic? About these two trying to set up Danny and Bruce?" Dick tried once more, he really wanted to know more about this whole 'we attempted to set our mom up with Bruce' deal the two kids had going on.

"What is there to question, Richard? My half siblings appear to want for my father and their mother to be together." Damian huffed with his attention being on his eldest brother he did not notice the confused look Dani gave the older boy before looking at her own brother only for Dan to sport a mix of a feral and mischievous grin the girl soon returned when a look of understanding crossed her face briefly.

"So are you guys going to help?" Dani looked at them with big baby blue and pleading eyes. Dan gave them a red eyed glare as if daring them to disagree with his sister. "As big brother said Mom is a neutron star! We can't do this on our own. But now that you guys know you can help!"

The three bat-kids exchanged a look, though it appeared as if Damian had already made a decision on that matter the moment he learned that Phantom was the mother of his half siblings. Dick grinned, pulling out his phone. "If we are going to do this then I am calling in the cavalry."

In other words Dick was going to call in all their siblings as back up. They had been discussing making Phantom, aka Danny Nightingale, a more permanent fixture in their lives before after he had helped Jason. Now they had even more reason to do so with two baby siblings added into their lot.

[invisible-storyteller]

Everybody wants some (Stiles)

(Also on AO3.)

"Dare," Erica grinned after a moment of suspense.

Lydia rolled her eyes, having anticipated Erica's answer ever since the beta had presented her suggestion of a "fun" game to a very tipsy, and very bored group of college students. It had been the fourth pack night in a row after everyone had finally arrived for their summer break and there were only so many movies they could watch, plus it was still better than Scott's suggestion of spin the bottle. 

Speak of the devil.

"Everyone has chosen dare so far," Scott noted with the faintest pout on his lips, clearly disapproving of the humiliating tasks distributed so far.

Erica smacked her lips, giving Scott a taunting smile. "Fine. I changed my mind. Truth."

"Can she do that?" Isaac questioned but Scott only shrugged, not caring about the rules as long as no one else was forced to drink spoiled milk from a bowl like a puppy again.

"Okay, so..." Allison leaned forward, a foreboding shadow casting over her face that Erica met head-on, "If you weren't with Boyd, who would you fuck out of everyone in this room?"

Erica raised a single eyebrow, visibly unimpressed. "Stiles, duh."

It was almost superhuman how quickly Stiles straightened up in an instant, his mind having wandered off to fantasies of a certain socially inept alpha who had excused himself from his own living room as soon as the pack had settled down to play, and now getting jolted back into reality.

"That's boring. Everyone knows you had a crush on Stiles." Malia piped up from where she rested her head in Kira's lap, the kitsune's fingers carding through the locks of her hair absent-mindedly. 

"You say that like you wouldn't fuck him if you had the chance."

"Of course, I would," Malia shrugged like it was no big deal.

Stiles, on the other hand, nearly choked on his tongue.

"That's not a surprise, either, you actually dated him." Lydia pointed out, and Stiles could only snap his eyes back and forth between the two girls, trying to frantically grasp just when he had lost track of the conversation.

"You don't have to sound so condescending," Stiles mumbled out eventually, his eyes finally pausing on Lydia.

"Oh, honey, you can't be this oblivious."

And Stiles totally wasn't imagining the knowing looks on his packmates' faces. 

"About what?" He asked (damn his curiosity), feeling the usual trepidation that came with the whole 'being in a pack with not-so-mythical creatures' schtick.

Erica only snickered as she cuddled into Boyd's side, mischief dancing behind her thick eyelashes and promising no good. "About how everyone wants to breed you in this pack."

Okay, Stiles definitely choked this time (and Scott may have been a bit too enthusiastic with his back slaps) or maybe he fell asleep and was having the weirdest sexy dream without actual sex happening. Although, Lydia's offended yet conceding glance to the side looked pretty real.

"Wha-at?" Stiles wheezed out very eloquently between two consecutive coughs, and got immediately startled by the fact that Mason was the one to answer.

"Everyone in this pack has been attracted to you at one point," Mason clarified as if it was the most common knowledge in the world. Corey's agreeing nod did not help lift the fog in Stiles's mind at all.

"What."

"Say, Lydia, did you ever think of fucking Stiles?" Erica asked, a sadistic grin spreading wider on her firey red lips.

"Of course," Lydia replied, honest and simple, even flicking her hair for extra effect.

"Since when?" Stiles asked, a little outraged. He had spent many years pining after Lydia, so the fact that she hadn't shared this crucial piece of information with him was a bit of a punch into his teenage self's heart. Oh, and there was that tiny detail that Lydia had a boyfriend.

"Remember when we were hiding in the school from a rogue Peter?"

Stiles nodded, eyes squinting in suspicion as he recalled that dreadful night.

"You remember punching Jackson?"

And just like that, Stiles's jaw hit the ground, funny animation movie sound effects and all that. His chest subconsciously puffed out when he heard Jackson scoff indignantly, and continued to stare at Lydia, feeling like he was seeing her in a completely new light. "Wait, you liked that?! That turned you on?"

"Of course," Lydia parrotted with incongruous disinterest, "Still wouldn't have dated you. But I do enjoy a good display of dominance."

This had to be an alternate universe. Or a hyper-realistic dream, Stiles deduced.

"Okay, that makes... wow, three people who thought about getting all up on this," Stiles said in a daze with a half-aborted gesture to his body. Admittedly, the number was impressive (since he had always assumed it to be zero) but, at the same time, it was far from being the entire pack as Erica and Mason had so confidently claimed.

As if reading his mind, Lydia's sweet voice filled the loft once again. 

"Hey, Ally, didn't you consider dating Stiles at one point?" Lydia addressed the other girl out of nowhere, making Stiles turn towards his long-time friend with a look teetering someplace between pure shock and utter horror.

"Yeah?" Allison's uncertain response launched her into a pensive moment, probably rummaging through her memories before frowning in mild amusement. "That was actually your fault I think."

"Wha-" Stiles opened his mouth to say something along the lines of 'what the fuck' but Lydia beat him to it.

"It was before prom," Lydia reminisced with an honest-to-God smile, "You were insufferable and tried to convince me to go with Stiles. I told you that if you think he's such a great catch, maybe you should be the one going with him."

Allison snapped her fingers as if the memory had been at once revealed to her as well. "Oh yeah. I remember thinking that he would be a gentleman in bed."

"Ugh..." Honestly, at this point, Stiles's brain was officially out of order. Dial-up error noise, no signal sign, all that jazz. He seriously didn't think the night could get any more absurd, but then again, this was his life, with the constant motto being 'fuck Stiles's sanity', so what was he expecting, really?

"I would feel so grossed out right now if I didn't have fantasies about Stiles, too," Isaac revealed nonchalantly, and to that, Stiles had to make a face. "What? I just wanted to see if I can shut you up."

"With your mouth," Erica added with a conspiring smirk. Stiles really hated her right now. She was the one responsible for this whole avalanche collapsing onto poor unsuspecting Stiles in the first place. 

"I had the same thought," Boyd added, apparently joining in on the 'let's wreck Stiles's world' plan, "Although I was planning to shut your mouth with something else."

Stiles's mouth decided at that moment that it was just going to assume a permanent open position, gaping like a fish out of water (cause that was exactly how he felt), which didn't help his case, in hindsight.

"Stiles does have an oral fixation," Malia chimed in, everyone else nodding along like that wasn't news at all.

"Seriously, guys? This- okay, Scotty, help me out here," Stiles pleaded, unsure of how to feel about everything that had been spoken so far, but still solid in the faith for his quasi-brother, "You did not have sexual fantasies about me, right? We're best friends. Brothers from another mother."

Stiles really wished Scott wouldn't have pulled the world's most apologetic and guilt-ridden grimace at that.

"Remember when we went to that pool party in eighth grade?"

Stiles didn't like where this was going, but yes, he could sort of remember. That day marked the first time Stiles had drunk alcohol - some cheap booze their classmate's brother had stashed somewhere in his room. It was also the summer Stiles's body had finally gained some definition so he wasn't too shy about forgoing a shirt.

"You asked me to put sunscreen on your back?" Scott continued with hunched shoulders like he could hide from his own words, and Stiles's eyes popped open in realization.

"Dude."

"That's why I had to go to the bathroom," Scott scratched the back of his neck with flaming cheeks, "Twice."

"Twice?" Liam echoed, and Stiles imagined wrapping his hands around that little pup's throat and just squeezing.

"Stiles's swim shorts were very tight when he got out of the pool," Scott answered sheepishly, and much like a volcano, the pack burst into loud cheers. Stiles was seemingly alone in his mortification, mourning the loss of his innocence and feeling oddly betrayed.

"Since we're being honest," Oh God, why was Jackson talking?, "I did have some dreams about Stilinski, and in my defence, I was still in the closet back then and it was a small locker room, okay? I'm not responsible for my thoughts after seeing what he's packing."

"I did think about making out with him when we were on a stakeout," Theo added, a bit too eager to be part of the pack in Stiles's opinion.

This was all too much. Probably a bigger conceptual change than the discovery of the supernatural's existence. Stiles couldn't help it, therefore, in the following silence where everyone awaited his final reaction with baited breaths, he realized there was only one thing left to do: laugh.

"Okay, wow," Stiles breathed out between bouts of laughter, almost doubling over himself as he clutched his sides, "Nice joke, guys. Really. Prank of the year. Picking on the single pringle in the pack. Did you rehearse this?"

There was something unsettling in the look his packmates shared.

Malia looked around then with a neutral expression and exclaimed. Loudly. "Raise your hand if you ever thought about kissing or fucking Stiles."

Everybody's hands, without exception (Stiles checked), shot up high into the air like they were pulled by strings (Mason might have had to nudge Liam in the side but he, too, raised his hand with eyes downcast in shame), and it was the most out-of-left-field reaction at that moment, but Stiles suddenly felt a glimmer of hope that maybe... no. That was and had always been wishful thinking. Even if, apparently, Stiles was the epitome of bonability in his peers' eyes.

Right on cue, a deep rumble came from the bottom of the stairs, startling absolutely no one besides Stiles who was still momentarily lost in adjusting his worldview.

"What is happening?"

It was truly fascinating how reluctant everybody seemed to answer now in the face of that gruff voice. Stiles, for the most part, could only swallow past the sound of his own rabbiting heartbeat.

"Just playing some stupid game," Jackson deflected as his hands, in comical synchrony with all others', dropped to his sides.

"What game?" Derek pried, arms crossing across his chest and making the muscles bulge threateningly, not that Stiles noticed. 

"It's called... 'Who's thought about kissing Stiles'?" Kira replied with a tamer version of the truth, although Stiles had no doubt that Derek had heard the original statement if his 'what brain-dead moron do you take me for' frown was any indication.

Nervous laughter bubbled out of Stiles, and he clapped his hands for lack of a better idea on how to diffuse the situation. The pack was engaging in some creepy version of a stare-down with their alpha, and from Isaac's uncomfortable squirming, it was evident that the others had felt the uncanny chill of Derek's look, too. Even Stiles had the uncomfortable impression of a noose tangling around his neck, awaiting (perhaps) a sentence or an order, and he was eerily reminded of the early days of knowing Derek. Things had been better in recent years so the current tension in the room was all the more puzzling, especially since the pack rarely acted so unassertive around their alpha.

"Well, at least we know one person who hasn't, right?" Stiles joked weakly in the silence, his smile short-lived against the strangely intense leer on Derek's face.

If anything, their alpha's features hardened at the words, his (thankfully still normal) eyes blazing with a heat that Stiles had never seen outside the throes of battle. It was doing some very ill-timed things to Stiles.

Unsurprisingly, Lydia was the first to stand up, the light shake of her head accompanied by a soft "Oh, Stiles" before she made the smart move and left, rousing everyone else into action. Derek kept glaring at the pack until they dribbled out one by one, some sending Stiles encouragement (like Erica with her thumbs up) but ultimately abandoning him in the loft with a displeased alpha to handle. Stiles gaped after his traitorous friends, arms stretched open in disbelief and no clue about anything that had gone down so far. If there was a way to say "???" out loud, Stiles would have done that right then and there.

"Wha- guys?" Stiles asked just as the metal door violently slid shut. It was thunderous in the otherwise empty loft.

He whipped around swiftly and poked his thumb in the direction of the exit because that felt like the next logical thing to do when a murderous-looking werewolf began to move towards him.

"I guess that means pack night's over so I'll just... Umm..."

Stiles could have sworn that he heard a growl before Derek's eyes bled into ominous red, and it was a testament to how fucked up Stiles's self-preservation instincts had become over the years that those weren't the wolfish features that had Stiles's brain melting into syrupy goo. No, that achievement could only be attributed to the sharp fangs poking out from behind Derek's pink lips, and Stiles was like 95% sure that "How would those feel buried in my skin?" was not a normal thought to have in this kind of situation. 

"Has any of them touched you?"

Stiles shook his head - you know, once he had enough blood there to comprehend the question - and his hands came up unwittingly to put some barrier between him and Derek. "Hold on, what? No! It wasn't that kind of game- oh well, some of your pups were certainly touching in ways that I tried really hard to ignore- hey, you should talk to them about that! You know, privacy, I'm sure you heard... about... that..."

Derek's eyebrows gradually sank lower during his rant while Stiles's mouth slightly opened to help regulate his breathing (and why was that so hard all of a sudden?). Something in Derek's look made Stiles itchy to speak, like he had to defend himself for some reason. "It's not like any of them would actually want to fuck me- Hey, what's with the looming, dude?"

Derek's eyes narrowed wordlessly onto Stiles's chest where the human's heart rate spiked from feeling the solid surface of the door hit his back. He hadn't noticed how fast Derek was crowding in on him, and something about that fact made Stiles think of one of those National Geographic documentaries. You know, where the gazelle gets mauled.

"Dude, if you want me to leave, just say so. You don't gotta go all Michael Myers on me-"

"Would you let them?" Derek slurred around his fangs, eyes meandering like he was trying to catalogue all of Stiles's (very straightforward and very communicative) reactions, "Would you let anyone in the pack fuck you?"

Stiles shook his head so fast, he almost felt dizzy afterwards.

Derek's eyes faded back to green then, and he withdrew his body heat that Stiles hadn't even taken note of up until that point. With the proximity confiscated, Stiles felt a tinge of disappointment as well as a buttload (hah) of confusion - the same emotions somehow getting reflected back at him in Derek's eyes before the werewolf sculpted his face into his usual neutral look. 

Stiles had never had a more life-changing lightbulb moment before (previous truth or dare game included), and he felt the urge to facepalm at himself.

"I mean, it depends..." Stiles trailed off, Derek's hostile yet curious eyebrows making a reappearance. "I, um..."

Instead of bothering with words, Stiles licked his bottom lip as a test and delighted when Derek's eyes followed the movement with failing restraint. With a sudden burst of confidence, he pushed away from the door and violated Derek's personal space as much as he could get away with without actual touching. 

"Raise your hand if you have a crush on Derek Hale.

Derek frowned, his eyebrows doing some weird high jumps when Stiles sneaked a hand up into the air and wiggled his fingers for emphasis. This time, when the werewolf's eyes caught his, they were consumed by darkness instead of alpha red but were no less promising. And when Derek grabbed his wrist and yanked him forward, literally tripping Stiles into a kiss, that was something Stiles was for once expecting and welcomed with an eager moan. 

As it turned out, nobody wanted Stiles as much as Derek Hale did.

And out of all the reveals that day, that was the only one that truly mattered to Stiles.

[acadjonne]

“mundane memory” headcanons for a fic i’m writing where rogue shares memories of logan with laura in the void

he was in love with jean and everyone could tell

rogue suspects he was also had a thing for scott based on his habit of bothering him (she calls it “pulling on his pigtails”)

telling laura about logan comforting scott when jean died

after both jean and scott had died, logan became very protective of everyone at the school

he didn’t show his protectiveness of storm specifically because he knew she wouldn’t have let him

logan telling bobby’s parents he was an art professor

logan being decent but not great at art, but being amazing at calligraphy and guitar

logan almost never writing anything down, which rogue found ironic given his amnesia

one of the first classes logan taught at the school being first aid and field medicine, followed by wilderness survival classes, and eventually history as he recovered some of his memories

logan wandering into the room while some younger kids were watching anime in japanese and correcting the subtitle translations

logan having a 100% accuracy rate at pointing out kids with undiagnosed adhd

logan being unable to fall asleep with the door open because the school was too loud but not being able to sleep with the window shut because the air in his room would get too stale

despite the professor letting him smoke inside the mansion, logan usually smoked either outside or leaning out a window to avoid exposing anyone to secondhand smoke

after seeing rogue get sucked out of the jet in x2, logan started always wearing a seatbelt if there was someone else in the vehicle while driving because he didn’t want them to watch him get thrown out in a crash

i may add more as i think of them but i thought i’d share these in the meantime

[newtthetranswriter]

Hello!

How are you? I was wondering if you could write some Fairy Tail fluff please?

I was thinking of something with Laxus and Sting ( separately) jealous hc please?

Thank you!

A/n: Hello, I'm doing pretty good. How are you? Anyways thank you for request I hope you enjoy these and as always remember to hydrate or diedrate.

Sting:

He's not normally the Jealous type so I feel it would take a lot for him to really get jealous

for this we'll say you've been spending a lot more time around Rogue

At first he just thinks you're getting closer with Rogue because He's his best friend and he's happy about it

But then the two of you start being secretive, nothing big just hushed conversations and going quiet when he enters the room

He can't help but think something is going on, after all what if you changed your mind and fell for the shadow dragon over him

So thinking his friend won his s/o, Sting would start to grow distant

He'd eat meals in his office or skip them all together, not go on jobs with You and Rogue as much claiming he had guild master work to do (even though we all know he never actually does it)

Sting would also get easily irritated, snapping at guild members for little things and ignoring anyone who tries to ask if he's okay

Once finally notice and try to talk to him, he's on guard after all how can he trust you when you've been spending more time around Rogue instead of with him

You'll most likely have to slap him once to get him to actually listen but don't worry he does eventually listen

He'll apologize repeatedly for thinking anything was happening between you and Rogue, especially once you tell him you were hang out with Rogue to help Frosch become a little more independent

Sting will also be a little more clingy for a little while after

Always having a hand in yours or on your waist or shoulder, he just wants to reassure him self that you really are still with him and aren't going to leave him

Laxus:

This wall of a man is 100% the silent/protective jealous type

He wouldn't get jealous super easy but there is one person who can cause this man to get jealous over nothing

That person is none other than the Pink haired Dragon slayer, Natsu

Laxus knows that you're friends with the fire dragon, but something about the way he can always make you laugh really grates at the Lightning dragon

His jealousy starts out as glares across the guild hall, if looks could kill the pinkette would be dead 100 times over by now

He just sits silently and watches telling himself and the rest of the Thunder legion (who already figured out he was jealous) that he is just making sure you're okay

After a while of just glaring and neither of you noticing his stare, Laxus will get up and walk over to you

He'll stay quiet except for a slight grumble as he sits down next to you, wrapping his arm around your shoulder

The blonde would just sit there, chest puffed up a bit trying to silently show who you belong too

But once he feels you relax into him, he softens

He may not say it but feeling you lean further into his side, while you talk with your friend helps calm him down

Laxus still shoots a glare at his fellow dragon slayer but it's more out of the fact that Natsu gets on his nerves than anything else at this point

He'll still wait for the perfect moment to pull you away from the conversation with Natsu so he can fully relax but having you next to him reassures him that you wouldn't trade him for anyone else

(dividers by cafekitsune)

[ohtobeleah]

Bruises // Jake Seresin

Chapter Six: [Ninety in Five]

Summary: Hours, Days, Weeks, Months. Just how long have you and Jake been enduring the horrific torture at the hands of a Rogue Nations Commander.

Series Warnings: Heavy themes of violence, sexual assault, torture. 18+ content. Minors DNI. Mature themes. Being held in captivity. Hostage style situation. Main character death! Whump, Angst. Conversations that discuss antisocial & antisemitism views.

Chapter Warning: ⚠️ This Chapter contains sexual explicit content that may be distressing to some. Reader discretion is advised for the topic of sexual abuse/ non-consensual sexual assault. ⚠️

Word Count: 5.4k

Author Note: THIS SERIES IS CONFRONTING, FICTIONAL, AND DEPICTS IMAGES OF TORTURE. DO NOT READ PAST THIS POINT IF YOU BELIEVE THAT THIS SERIES WILL BE DETRIMENTAL TO YOUR MENTAL STABILITY. CURATE YOUR OWN TIMELINE.

Series Masterlist | Main Masterlist

***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~

Pain comes in all forms. From the small twinges to a bit of soreness, to perhaps the random pain. Then there’s the normal pains you live with everyday. 

But then there’s the kind of pain you can’t ignore. A level of pain so great that it blocks out everything else. It makes the rest of the world fade away. Until all you can think about is how much you hurt. 

How you manage that pain though is up to you. 

Pain. You anaesthetise it, you ride it out, you embrace it or ignore it. And for some people the best way to manage pain is to just push through it. 

“You, sit.” Hours, Days, Weeks, Months. “You, over there.” Time felt like it had stopped moving but at the same time it felt as if it had sped up. Jake had come back to you just like he’d promised—but since then time felt like a torture in and of itself. Days had passed, weeks maybe? 

“What did they do to you?” You could remember asking as he hugged you as tightly as you’d allowed him to. “Jake?” 

“You have to trust me when I say I can’t tell you.” Jake had told you all the while he tried to hide how much pain he was in. His body was giving up the fight. And now he’d had what felt like heart surgery too. “If I tell you, they’ll do it to you as well and I can’t let them hurt you anymore.” But he had to stay alive to get you out of here. 

You did as you were told by the insurgent who had been one of the three who assaulted you. Jake could see just how frightened you really were whenever he came closer to you. You’d flinch, expecting something to happen, but all the man would do was laugh to himself. Clearly chuffed at how frightened you were. 

“Today we’re gonna get what we want.” The Commander announced as he walked into the room, the same room where you’d been shot, the same room where Jake had had a pacemaker inserted into his chest. “We’re done playing games, we want answers and we want them now.” Neither you nor Jake said a word, you could tell his attitude had changed. Whatever they did to him that he wouldn’t tell you about genuinely scared him. 

“My patience is running thin, I have deadlines to maintain and here I am, babysitting the two of you like the ungrateful swine you are.” It was unpleasant, sure, but nothing you couldn’t handle. At this point during your captivity cruel words were just that. Words. They didn’t bring you any sort of physical pain or torture and for that you were grateful to be a swine. “Get her into some damn restraints!” 

“Easy.” Jake warned through a growl so primal you hardly recognised his voice as the insurgents manhandled you down into the chair. He watched as they restrained your wrists to the arms, your torso to the back, and your ankles to the legs. 

“Here’s how this is going to work, I’m going to ask you a question, you’re going to answer me and answer me promptly—“ The Commander, you didn’t even know his name after all this time, paused as he gently guided his fingers down the side or your face. “Or else I’m going to have your dear friend Jacob here pry it out of you.” 

“What?” Jake couldn’t believe what he’d just heard as he took a few steps closer to where The Commander stood with you. He was held back by two insurgents, another you recognised from your attack. “You want me to do what?” 

“Don’t pretend like you didn’t just hear what I said, it's insulting!!” 

“I’m not touching her, don’t make me hurt her, please—“ Jake pleaded, he couldn’t hurt you ever. “Don’t make me, I won’t—not for anything.” 

“Fine.” The Commander shrugged his shoulders like it was no big deal. “Nathan’s been dying to feel how tight your friend is again, so I could always ask if he and a few of the others are up for round two?” All you could do was close your eyes in hopes you’d wake up back in your cell. This was all a nightmare, this wasn’t happening again. “And she’ll be doing so much screaming she won’t even be able to tell me anything.” Jake could hear the little watch on his wrist beeping at a quickening rate as The Commander made his way over. “So I guess you could say her pain would be completely useless to me.” 

“Fine.” Jake couldn’t let you go through that again, he could protect you from it this time. “I’ll do it.” He hissed through gritted teeth. Jake was hoping you’d just tell them what they wanted to hear so that he never had to lay a finger on you. God he couldn’t hurt you in the name of saving you. It was all too much. 

“Marvellous.” The Commander grinned ear to ear as he turned back to face you. “Whenever you don’t answer a question, Jacob here is gonna do whatever I say, or else?” It was then Jake fell to his knees as an agonising scream left his throat. His teeth clenched together so hard you saw the veins in his neck sticking out as he couldn’t breathe. “I’ll stop his heart.” 

“AAAHHHHH!” Jake's screams would forever haunt you as you watched him go down in utter agony. He was in so much pain you swore his skin was tearing off his bones. “STOP! Please!” 

The Commander held up a small remote in the palm of his hand. What the hell was going on? He could see by the look on your face alone that Jake hadn’t told you what had happened, what had been put inside him. Good, he thought to himself. 

“Jake!!” You called out as he fell limp to his stomach on the floor when The Commander released his finger from the button he held in his hand. Jake groaned in response, he was still alive. “Are you okay?” 

“Mmhmm, just peachy.” He sighed as he rolled over to lay on his back and catch his breath. “I’m okay, nothing I can’t handle Hotshot.” 

“Well then—“ The Commander clapped. “Shall we get started?” 

“I’m not telling you anything.” You spat as he stepped a little closer to you as Jake took his time getting to his feet, still collecting himself. “I’d rather die than give you anything you need, spend your millions.” 

“What’s the name of the other pilot you flew with?” Why would The Commander want to know about Bradley? “In the other jet who wasn’t shot down.” His voice was steady, like he knew you wouldn’t answer. There was no need to waste his energy. “If you don’t answer, I’ll get him to kill you.” 

“So start digging a goddamn grave!” You shouted as The Commander looked at Jake with an all knowing smile. He held up the remote in his hand so Jake could see he wasn’t bluffing. He’d press it again. 

“I’m sorry.” Jake whispered as he balled his fist. “I’m so sorry.” He never thought he’d be in this position, about to hurt the woman he loved so deeply. “I’m sorry.” Tears streamed down Jake's cheeks as the watch on his wrist beeped. He needed to calm down. But how was he supposed to do that? 

“Do it.” You nodded and soon enough the force of Jake's entire fist came smashing against your nose. “Ahh! Fuck you Seresin!” It was a growl from the depths of your soul. 

“Again, what’s the name of the pilot—“ 

“Eat shit asshole.” You chuckled as you threw your head back. “I’m not telling you anything”. 

“Hit her again.” 

“I can’t.” Jake pleaded as he shook his head. Tears welled in his eyes as he looked at you, the damage he’d already caused. “Please—“ 

“Ah Ah Ah.” The Commander held up his remote again. “I’ll send you to an early grave, and then there’s no one to protect her is there?” 

“Jake.” You mumbled as Jake's eyes met yours. “Kill me.” He wasn’t expecting you to say it again, hell he still hadn’t really processed the first time you’d asked him. But now that you were saying it again Jake swore he hated himself for ever getting you into this mess in the first place. It was the first time he wished he’d died on impact. “Kill me before they get a chance to hurt me again.” 

“Why were you chosen for this mission?” Jake knew why he was chosen, he knew why Rooster was too. But in all his time flying with you, he'd never stopped to question why you were chosen. He didn’t know you well enough to wonder if you were a better weapons systems officer than Robert Floyd or Mickey Garcia. He just knew that you were his WSO. “Miss Y/l/n, tell your friend why you were put on this mission.” 

“Because I was expendable.” It broke Jake's heart. “I wasn’t worth saving if things went south.” That couldn’t have been it? 

“Hit her again.” Jake had to, he didn’t have a choice. So he did and he did hard as a rage inside his soul boiled over at the men who tasked him with this god forsaken mission. “Again.” The Commander ordered, like a good soldier Jake obliged. He hit you over and over and over again till your eyes were swollen and your face was bloodied and bruised. 

But yet you still had something to say: 

“I wasn’t worth saving from the beginning, Jake.” It came out bloodied and distorted but Jake still understood. “You never should have pulled my chute.” 

“Tell me who the other pilot was! Or so help me god I’ll send her to goddamn hell!!” The Commander asked just one more time. 

“BRADLEY BRADSHAW!” Jake shouted at the top of his lungs, he couldn’t take it anymore. The mental torture, the physical abuse. He was going crazy. “Callsign Rooster.” He looked at you as your head slumped over and blood streamed past your lips. “There! Now why on earth is that such a vital piece of fucking information!” 

All The Commander did was hold up a piece of crumpled paper that looked as if it had been lying in the dirt for days. Jake knew what it was, you could barely see it. 

“Because I needed to figure out who the Rooster was.” It was rock bottom for the both of you when the body of the woman who’d given Jake the note was uncovered on the very table Jake had woken up from surgery on. 

No. Not her. Jake didn’t even know who she was but she knew Bradshaw so that had to count for something. 

“Someone hold him.” The Commander sighed as Jake felt himself being pulled back and away from you by two men. “I’m growing to regret ever keeping you two here.” He explained as he walked over to another table close by. It had all kinds of torturous devices on it. But The Commander picked up one in particular:

A rusted old hammer. 

“You don’t seem to understand how lucky you are to be alive, Miss Y/l/n.” 

“And here I was all this time believing I was already in fucking hell.” It was the last thing you chuckled out before a searing pain radiated through your wrist, your hand. It came out of nowhere like a frate train. “AAAHHHHH!” 

“You son of a bitch!” Jake whaled as he struggled against the mercenaries. “Y/n!” The Commander had swung the full force of his strength down with the hammer, it surely had to have shattered everything in your wrist. 

“From here on in? We won’t be playing any more games.” He hissed before turning to Nathan who was just waiting for the opportunity. “Get him back to his cell.” There was a deafening silence before the final whistle blew, after all that, after beating you senseless thinking it was saving you from a worse fate: 

“No, no don’t you fucking touch her!” Jake crumbled in defeat as The Commander gave the orders. “I swear to god I’ll kill you! I’ll kill you all you mother fuckers!!” 

Pain, you just have to ride it out. Hope it goes away on its own. Hope the wound that caused it heals. There are no solutions, no easy answer, you just breathe deep and wait for it to subside. Most of the time pain can be managed, but sometimes the pain gets you when you least expect it. 

Or just gets worse than you could have ever imagined: 

“Get her to hers, but don’t forget to have a little fun first.” 

***~***~***~***~***~***~**

Jake could hear it all. He heard it for days and days and days on end. It was his torture but your personal hell. 

“God she’s fucking tight—!” They would say while you begged them to stop. “I love when they fight back.” 

“STOP HURTING HER!” Jake would shout at the top of his lungs at the bars of the cell. “Get of her you fucking pigs!” 

“Tell him you like it baby.” It was worse than hell. You cried all the while the blonde haired blue eyed man with the ugly scar forced your head in the direction of where Jake stood. He was pinning you down, holding you still, keeping your legs apart as he took you the way he wanted to. “Go on, tell him how good I feel inside you, or I’ll shoot him in the fucking face.” The man on top of you reached for the gun he carried most of the time, he’d tuck it behind his back, and pointed it Jake's way. 

Jake didn’t move a single muscle, didn’t flitch. He’d rather take a bullet than hear you say that. He’d do just about anything to get you out of here.

“SAY IT!” You gasped and cried just a little louder when the insurgent on top of you shot a bullet right past Jake's shoulder. 

“I like it!” You shrilled. It was the worst lie you’d ever told. Jake couldn’t decide what was worse though, listening to you scream and beg whatever insurgent had decided he wanted to get his rocks off to stop or when you were completely silent. 

When you were periodically left alone in your cell all Jake could hear was your sobs. But again, he couldn’t tell if the silence or the cries were more painful. 

“Hollywood, you awake?” You spent most of your time sleeping now. Trying to conserve whatever energy you had left. “I’m still here.” Jake reminded you as he sat by the bars that kept you apart. “I’m sorry, for everything.” He’d cry with you, seeing you like this was torture. Jake had noticed that the insurgents had begun to leave him alone, but that just meant you took more of the beatings, more of the tournament, more of the pain. “Please say something hotshot, anything just to let me know you’re okay.” 

“You should have killed me when you had the chance.” Was all you would say from time to time, it let Jake know you were still alive but it made him wish he was dead all at the same time. “I can’t keep going through this.” 

“You are so strong you hear me?” Jake tried to remind you through the bars. “Please don’t give up now.” 

“I just want to die.” Over and over and over again, you’d mumble it whenever you were conscious enough to talk. “I just want to die, I can’t live like this—“ 

The insurgents had stopped giving you water and food a few days ago. They’d only ever give Jake enough for himself. Whenever they did bring him things, he’d slid it across the way for you. 

“Can you please come over here so you can eat something?” Jake asked as he slid some bread through the bars for you. He had been watching you for what felt like hours just lying there on your side facing the wall. “Hollywood, you need to come here so that you can eat.” 

“Leave me alone Jake.” You sobbed, completely shutting Jake out was the only thing you could think of that would get him out of here alive. You were a goner at this point, a ghost of your former self. “Just leave me alone.” 

“Hey.” Jake saw what you were doing, he wasn’t stupid. “Y/n, at least give me the decency and turn around, alright?” You didn’t make any attempt to move, so Jake just waited. “Please?” 

When you finally sat up and faced Jake, you took in just how broken he really looked. His hair was longer, darker from the dirt of the cells you were kept in. He had a beard that looked unkempt and curly. But he was still Jake. Your Jake. 

“You can’t give up on me now.” Jake reminded you as he spoke softly and smiled through the bars. “I love you too much to lose you before I even get a chance to live my life with you.” Jake had never admitted to anyone he’d loved them before, he wasn’t the kind of guy who fell in love. But here he was. “Or just live a life with you in it, hell that would be enough for me.” Oh so in love with the woman who he spent all his time running from. 

“Jake you don’t have to say—“ You knew it was all lies to get you to keep fighting, you knew it was all just tactical reassurance. 

“I’m not saying anything that isn’t true, I wouldn’t lie to you.” Jake pleaded with you to come closer to the bars. “Just come here, please? Please eat something.” You did, slowly. You shuffled across your cell on your knees until you were resting up against the bars right next to Jake. “There’s my girl.” 

“Why didn’t you kill me?” You asked as you took only half the slice of bread Jake had given you and handed it back to him. Being careful not to use your bad hand, the one you knew was completely broken. “When you had the chance to.” 

“It’s probably really selfish of me to admit it, but I couldn’t get through any of this without you.” Jake admitted the painful truth. “I needed you to stay, and I’d never be able to kill you, because like I keep saying, I love you, I can’t kill you because that would just kill me and then we’re both dead.” You listened and took in what Jake was saying, none of it made any sense to you. But trauma did weird things to people. And you were trauma bonded hard core to Jake Seresin. 

“Would it be the worst thing ever if I told you I loved you too?” Gratitude, appreciation, giving thanks. No matter what words you use, it all means the same thing. Happy. People are supposed to be happy, grateful for friends, family. Happy to just be alive, whether you like it or not. 

Jake reached in and around the bars to draw you as close as he possibly could. It was the first gentle touch you’d felt in what felt like days. Your body had collected a map of bruises that varied in colour, size and shape, but Jake did his best to avoid them all. He couldn’t hurt you anymore. He wouldn’t. 

“That’s definitely the delusion talking Hollywood.” Maybe you and Jake weren’t supposed to be happy. Maybe the small amount of gratitude you felt in your heart when he kissed the top of your head for reassurance wasn't supposed to be a feeling you felt at all. Maybe that gratitude had nothing to do with joy. Maybe being grateful meant recognising what you have for what it is. 

You could appreciate the small victories and admire the struggle it takes simply to be human. Maybe you were just thankful in the moment of quiet peace for the familiarity of Jake's warm embrace. Nothing could hurt you while you were in his arms. No one could touch you, or break your spirit. 

“I just hope that whatever version of heaven or after life there is after this world—that I get to just exist on a farm somewhere in my own piece of paradise.” You mumbled as Jake listened carefully. He wouldn’t mind that, a heaven on earth with you. Maybe he’d take you back to Texas, recuse a dog and live a life where no one could hurt you ever again. “I’d like to just exist peacefully, leave the jets behind, raise some cows maybe.” 

“Sounds like a pretty great version of a forever land.” And Jake was thankful for the things he’d never know or experience that he’d watched you go through. The fact that he had the fight to still be standing was all for you. He had to get you out of this hell. “But unfortunately for you you’re not gonna get to visit for many years, I’m not letting you die in here Hollywood.”

“When we get outta here you’re gonna take me on a date.” You sighed all the while you looked up at Jake through the bars of your cell while his arm stayed wrapped around your shoulders. “Because nothing in here counts for shit Seresin.” Your smile was enough reason to celebrate as Jake smiled and let out a small audible laugh. It made you grin, which soon turned into a throaty cough from the dirt you’d inhaled from lying down. 

“When we get out of here I might just marry you if you’re not careful.” Jake didn’t expect you to reply, he was just thankful you were eating. But when you did reply, his watch began to beep, because you made his heart race at the speed of light. 

“That doesn’t sound like the worst thing in the world.” 

***~***~***~***~***~***~**

The calm didn’t last long. You should've known better to fall into a false sense of security in Jake's arms. There was only so much he could do for you from the other side of the bars. 

“HEY!” But that didn’t mean he didn’t try to defend you. “CUT IT OUT!” You could barely hear Jake's voice over the roar of what you could only assume was a leaf blower as one the the many insurgents that had started to see you as their own personal sex slave kicked up enough dust to cloud your entire cell. “HEY!” It was all very heroic and all. “SHE CANT BREATHE FUCK HEAD!” But it didn’t do a damn thing. 

“Kinda the whole point.” The man with blonde hair and blue eyes laughed as he shut off the blower. “You know, for what it’s worth man, your girl over here’s a really nice time.” He chuckled at the door of Jake's cell, knowing there wasn’t a damn thing Jake could do. “Especially when she screams about how much it hurts.” 

“Why don’t you step in here and say that again?” Jake growled as he wrapped his fists round the bars of his cell door. “Come on, let’s fucking go a few rounds.” 

“Or I could just force you to listen to your bitch here suck my dick.” Jake lunged as far forward as he could to reach for the insurgents throat. He stepped back with a maniacal smirk plastered across his face. “Oh, look at you big guy—what are you gonna do huh?” 

“Jake—“ Your coughing drew Jake back to reality before he could be tainted into doing something stupid. “I can’t breathe.” You gasped as you leaned on your knees in the middle of your cell. “The dirt, can’t, breathe—“ At the sight of the dust settling around you, the insurgent went back to what he’d been sent down to do. He started the leaf blower again, kicking up a whirlwind of dust and dirt and debris around you. 

It was a different kind of torture all together, not being able to see or hear or breathe. Having your senses taken away from you all the while you were trapped in a cage by yourself. Listening to Jake try to guide you through it, his voice a guiding light through the darkness that threatened to consume you entirely. 

***~***~***~***~***~***~**

“MOTHERFUCKER!” Jake's screams were hard to listen to, but then again he’d been listening to you non-stop for days if not weeks on end. “AARRRGGGHHHH!!” You could smell the awful aroma of burning flesh as you stood by the bars that separated you from Jake. They had him tied to a chair in the middle of his cell. 

This was different, they usually took you away for this kind of torture to a more sterile environment. Perhaps The Commander wasn’t kidding when he said they weren’t playing games anymore. Not that you ever took your situation to be one. 

“Looks good on you Lieutenant.” The insurgents snickered as they admired their handwork. A brand so deep and burnt that it was surely going to get infected. “How’s his heart rate?” 

“Still holding steady—“ 

“Maybe we should give a few to her and see how he reacts.” 

“Don’t.” It was only when they threatened you did Jake's heart rate change. “Touch her.” 

“But couples get matching tattoos all the time.” Nathan held the torch up to the metal branding rod he was using on Jake. “It’ll be just the cutest thing.” He teased before he tilted his chin to his colleague. “Bring her over here.” 

When you didn’t struggle, when you didn’t beg for mercy, that’s when Jake knew something was wrong. When you were begging him to kill you there was still a fight left inside you. But now? Your silence was worrying, you looked—

Sick. 

“She’s burning up.” The man who had gone to get you from your cell mentioned as he brought you in. “She's caught a fever or something.” 

“You okay?” Jake asked as the man made you kneel between where his legs were tied to the legs of the chair. If you had any fight left you would have told him you were fine. But you couldn’t hide the fact you were exhausted, that you were ill. Your head came down to rest against Jake's knee and that’s when the blonde haired blue eyed man who’s already hurt you far too many times to count lifted your shirt and pressed the fiery hot metal into the small of your back. 

“AHHHHHH!” Your painful screams ricocheted off everything they came into contact with and all Jake could do was look down at you as tears streamed down his cheeks. He was your front seater, he was meant to protect you, keep you safe. He failed you. He’d done nothing but fail you since he first met you. 

You couldn’t take the pain any longer and passed out at Jake’s feet. He wanted to wrap you up in his arms and hold you close. He wanted to see if you were alive at the very least—but they left you there. They left Jake tied to the damn chair with new open wounds that matched yours. 

“Y/n?” He sobbed all the while trying to bust out of his restraints. “Hollywood—you gotta wake up.” When you didn’t move, didn’t stir, didn’t groan,

Jake's heart rate began to skyrocket. His watch that monitored his pulse had never sounded so erratic. “Hollywood, baby please you gotta wake up for me you don’t get to die here, not like this.” 

Again you didn’t move, you didn’t stir, you didn’t make any sounds. Jake couldn’t even see your back rising and falling with your breath; it was that shallow. 

“Don’t leave me here, please?” He begged as he tried to slow his heartbeat with deep controlled breaths. “Wake up, wake up for me, please, please just wake up.” But again you didn’t move. “Oh god.” Jake looked up as he tried to blink away his tears. “Don’t you dare take her away from me.” He begged whatever god was listening, Jake Seresin wasn’t a believer—but if he made it out of this alive with you by his side he’d pray to any god for forgiveness, any goddess for remorse. Any religion that was willing to give him a heaven with you at the very least. 

“Please don’t take her from me.” 

***~***~***~***~***~***~**

“Ow.” Noone believes their life will turn out just kind of okay. Everyone thinks they’re going to be great.  From the day you decide to become a Naval Aviator in the top one percent of pilots, you’re filled with expectations. “Oh god—“ 

“Easy, easy Hollywood.” Jake cooed as he watched you try to come to from being out cold at his feet for an unknown amount of time. Jake had tried to count seconds in his head but lost count with worry. “You’ve been out for a while, just take it easy.”

“Everything hurts.” Expectations of the trails you will blaze, the people you would help, the difference you could make. “My back.” Great expectations of who you will be, where you will go. And then you get there. “Fuck—“

“Can you untie my wrist?” Jake asked you softly as he watched you get up to your knees in agonising pain. “Please darlin, I just need you to untie my wrist so I can hold you.” You moved slowly, but did what Jake had asked. You untied his worst and sat back in defeat as he worked to untie the rest of the restraints around his appendages. 

“I really don’t feel good.” Jake knew it had to be your wrist or your lungs. It was so broken and swollen and definitely infected from where the rusted hammer had broken skin. You’d been inhaling too much foreign bacteria too. “Jake, I think I’m gonna be sick.” 

“That’s fine, you be sick.” He reassured you before he finally dropped to his knees and took you in his arms. “Oh my god I thought you were dead.” 

“May as well be.” Everyone thinks they're going to be great, and you really can’t help but to feel a little bit robbed when your expectations aren’t met. “I’m in this for you, I’m in this for you Jake, and I’m in this to finish the race but if me dying means you get to live and you get out of here then so be it.” But sometimes your expectations sell you short. “You need to live Jake.” 

“So do you.” Jake cooed as he held you close in his chest. He felt like all he could do was hold you until you fell asleep. “You’re gonna make it out of here.” 

“I don’t think I will.” Sometimes the expected simply pales in comparison to the unexpected. “And that’s okay.” It makes you wonder why people cling to their expectations, because the expected is just what keeps you steady, standing still. “I’m expendable, remember?” The expected is just the beginning. 

“No no no no, you were never expendable, not to me.” Jake pleaded with you to stay. You’d endured so much. You didn’t get to leave him now. “Just stay a little longer and I’ll get you the help you need, I promise alright?” 

“Just a little while longer.” Was all you managed to murmur out before you were gone again. In and out of concussion in Jake's protective embrace. 

“I’ve got you Hollywood.” Jake sobbed as he rocked with you back and forth softly. “I’ve got you.” It was only when Jake looked up to see a figure standing at the cell door, dressed in all black with not a single identifying feature on display. That was odd, all the insurgents had gotten really comfortable with their identities being paraded around. “It’s alright, you’re okay, I’m here.” Jake continued reminding you as he rocked you softly, knowing that if you were dying he wanted you to know he was with you till the very end. “It’s okay.” 

The unexpected though? Is what changes your life. 

“Lieutenants—“ The man spoke up finally after some time standing there at the gate. “You two have been very hard to track down.” The man chuckled to himself as gunfire began to ring out in the corridor. It didn’t seem to phase him whatsoever as Jake worked to shield you. 

Help. Help was finally fucking here. 

***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~**

Tags 🏷️ @americaarse @blindedbythelightt @tayl0rhuynh @athenabarnes @imaginecrushes @whyareallnamesgone @mjmaximoffbarnes @amiets2 @mads-weasley @gabbyella @ephemeralninon @xoxabs88xox @pedrohoe04 @starkleila @je-suis-prest-rachel @clancycucumber230 @maisie-rebloging-blog @callsign-barbell @obiwankenobis-lap @some-lovely-day @paperbag333 @callsign-magnolia @jhiddles03 @hardballoonlove @shanimallina87 @seitmai i @abaker74 @missemrose @starset21 @kmc1989 @phoenix1388 @emma8895eb @tsofo26 @itsmytimetoodream

[random-introverted-blog]

Deny Me Not Your Heart [Selunite!Shadowheart x F!Tav]

Intended Audience: Mature and up [Like that stops anyone]

Who be smoochin? : Shadowheart x F!Tav [can't write M!Tav even if you threatened my bloodline and I don't trust myself to maintain Gn!Tav] Really it's Durge but it's like, one singular reference.

Warnings: Remember the drabble idea where I said let them cook in the suffer-sauce for longer than a day and half a minute?, sad angst with a happy ending [I don't read fics to feel sad after either], lots of blood, description of injuries, lots of literal praying...

Word Count: 2,729 baebeee

Up, up and awayyyy

-ˋˏ’✄┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈-ˋˏ’✄┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈-ˋˏ’✄┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈

Just one more day. One more evening and they wouldn't need these tents anymore. No more roughing it in the wilderness. There would be warmth and beds. Tonight was the last night they would need to scavenge or hunt for food.

So why did Shadowheart feel so uneasy?

Tav had become an excellent hunter for the small rogue she was. It had become a point of pride for her, so much so she had denied all offers of help. Again. Gale had offered to prepare a filling meal with the abundant supplies they had left over (their leader was somewhat of a food hoarder), but Tav had refused the offer as well. Insistent that they have a fresh meal to celebrate the occasion. They had survived the long journey to Baldur's Gate after all, and Shadowheart herself had turned her sights to a brighter future. Of course, there was plenty of reason to be excited.

She just wished she could have spent it with some wine and the woman she... cared for. Deeply.

Gods, she was foolish. They had quite the rapport, had been through so much and still she struggled to admit to herself the depth of her feelings. She had devoted so much of her heart to Shar. To the exclusion of all else, and nearly lost Tav because of it. It was a miracle that she accepted her feelings outside the mausoleum that night after the way she had brushed the rogue off for so long... Perhaps when they arrive in the Gate. Or maybe it would be best told after they defeat the brain?

"I don't like this" Wyll abruptly broke the silence, rising from the log they dragged in front of the fire. "It's been too long, she should have returned by now." He said, turning back toward his tent to gather his equipment.

Karlach rose to meet him. "I'll come with. Three eyes are better than one, eh?" Flashing that toothy grin that Wyll couldn't help but smile at.

Shadowheart was about to join them before he held up his hand. "It may be best you wait here in case she comes back, lest she see you missing and charge out after you." With a small smile.

Karlach gave her shoulder a reassuring squeeze and went for her equipment as well. Then the two disappeared into the darkness. She wrung her fingers and watched the flames lick at the wood before she thought better of herself and left for her tent. Anxiously sitting around did no one any favors, did it?

Time passed painfully slow from that moment on. There was no way something could have happened to Tav. From the way she could playfully sneak up on her in the evenings, her precise aim with her shortbow, that silver tongue, it was hard to fathom a situation their formidable leader couldn't handle. So long as it didn't involve cheese.

For reasons no one was privy to.

However much time has actually passed, she couldn't say. But that wasn't her concern.

The frantic shouting of two familiar voices was.

Karlach came barreling forward from the brush as Shadowheart stepped from her tent, followed by Wyll not long after. Both their eyes darting around camp. As soon as they met her eyes, Karlach set down a blood drenched, barely recognizable Tav on a bedroll Wyll had just laid out. "We found her like this! A wolf was sniffing around, but that was it!" The tiefling panted, stepping away to allow the cleric room to work.

Shadowheart urgently dove to her side and took in the situation. It was difficult to tell with all the blood, there were wounds all long her torso that left her leather armor in tattered ruins, a deep wound that nearly hid itself in her hairline if not for the blood pouring from it. But the most concerning was the dark, almost black looking blood from her waist that was staining the bedroll. "Hells below, what happened to you?" She breathed, hating the shudder in her voice as she easily tore open the now-worthless armor and channeled her magic and eased her hands on the body.

So much colder than she's ever felt it before.

Tav's chest was barely rising, the only indication she was clinging to life, if only by a thread. Somehow. "We tried potions, they just... stalled it." Wyll explained somberly.

"I'm healing what I can, but not fast enough. " Shadowheart hurried the words before shouting over her shoulder "Gale!" She bit her lip and turned back to Tav, finding some semblance of relief when some wounds on her chest finally stopped bleeding.

A figure knelt down beside Tav, opposite Shadowheart. Laying radiant hands on the bloody body as well. "Two healers are better than one, no?"

Her eyes shot up to meet the warm ones of Isobel. Who flashed her a small, reassuring smile and turned her attention to Tav. "Lady Selûne, in your silver light, I beseech your grace. Heal the wounds that afflict Tav, restore strength, and bring solace to their spirit. By your celestial touch, may pain fade, and well-being be renewed. Selûne, guide my hands in this sacred act..." The prayer would normally have made Shadowhearts' blood boil, but gods, she would pray to Shar again if it meant keeping Tav beside her.

She took a deep breath, guiding her own healing along Tav's body, and heaved it from her chest. "Moonw—Selûne, please... Bring her back to me."

Between hers and Isobel's hands, and the somber audience surrounding them, their healing could only go so far before both clerics' hands burned and stung from the magic they funneled well beyond their own limits.

But it had paid off. Tav's heart was beating a steady, though faint, rhythm. They would need bandages to protect some wounds they couldn't quite heal... but Tav was alive.

And unconscious.

With careful arms, Shadowheart lifted the rogue into her arms and gingerly carried her into her own tent. What she said to the others, she can't recall. It wasn't important, anyway. She sat beside her all night, sleepless. Her thumb occasionally tracing around the wound on her head.

Morning came, and Tav showed no signs of waking. She had hardly stirred at all, only her breathing kept Shadowheart's own heart calm. The group decided to wait another day before discussing anything further. It was only when evening came along, when Isobel offered to keep watch over her, that Shadowheart at last departed her lover's tent in search of a meal. As odd as the notion was, to trust a Selûnite...

To keep herself occupied, and to express her... gratitude to Selûne for her grace. Shadowheart took a knife to her hair, coloring it white with some dye she had asked Isobel for.

Compliments the next morning did little to soothe her anxious heart as she set eyes on Tav. Isobel had just changed her bandages when she noticed the former Sharran.

She only had to shake her head.

It took some planning and plenty of coordination, but they had procured a small wooden wagon from a grave tender's shed nearby. And as much as it made Shadowheart grimace seeing her very much alive lover laid on a device that had carried corpses, it was better than leaving her behind.

After the first ten or so odd stares they had gotten from passerby when they wheeled Tav through Baldur's Gate, Shadowheart gave up glaring at them. They had to fend off some shapeshifter from threatening some "blood-kin" she was going off about, narrowly avoided clowns from a nearby circus and she shoo'd off some overly insistent cheese merchant peddling his goods. Shadowheart only spent the last of her energy charming and playing the guard at the drawbridge. Shedding a few tears as she spun the sad tale of her heroic lover. Whether or not they were real, no one could tell. Not even herself.

She had to resist kicking the sodding thing aside once they reached the Elfsong. Wyll and Astarion had taken their turn to persuade the innkeeper to give them a large enough room for them all. The only complaint came from Astarion, unused to the need to beguile people after Tav had been doing it for so long.

Shadowheart ignored it as she lightly brushed Karlach aside and lifted Tav into her own arms... and an ever faint twitch to her features froze the cleric stiff. "You good?" Karlach questioned, tone edged with concern.

For a moment, she just stared down at the small rogue before shaking her head clear. Her weary eyes must be playing tricks on her. "Yes, of course." And she turned away before she could press further her.

Once she had established a room for themselves, she eased Tav onto the bed before stepping outside to gather their things and put them away. She didn't even take her dyed Dark Justiciar armor off before collapsing at her bedside.

Three days. Three godsdamned days without her. And it felt like a whole bloody year. Without her smile. Her laugh. The sound of her voice whispering sweet nothings into her pointed ears at night.

The tears that flowed now were very much real, there was no doubt. Her face leaned against the edge of the bed, careful to avoid wetting her bandages. "Please come back," she pleaded, voice barely above a whisper. "I can't do this without you." Her parents, the Absolute... They had only come so far because of Tav. She had only come so far because of Tav.

She hadn't realized how incredibly daunting all their goals seemed without her. Every goal they had set, every aspiration they had shared, now appeared larger than life without Tav. The enormity of it all struck her like a tidal wave, threatening to consume her in its overwhelming force. The once clear path they had envisioned together now looked like an insurmountable mountain, its peak obscured by clouds of fear and self-doubt. With each passing moment, a sense of helplessness washed over her. She had always been their anchor, their unwavering support, and now, without her, their ambitions seemed to drift aimlessly in a sea of uncertainty.

A hand touched her shoulder, jolting her upright. Isobel's tender eyes met hers. "Your friends are leaving to explore the city. I'm happy to watch over her until you return."

Shadowheart glanced behind her. Of course, she forgot to close the door. A rejection was on the tip of her tongue, but something stopped her. Something she never thought she'd ever ask for. "Could you... pray over her... like before?"

Isobel's features flickered with surprise, but not with judgement or even smugness. "Would it offend you if I said I already have been? While you've been away?" She joked with a wry smile. "I would love to, Shadowheart. May I?" Gesturing to the spot beside her on the floor.

She nodded, scooting toward the head of the bed to give the fellow cleric room beside Tav. Isobel knelt down, carefully taking Shadowheart's hand, and lifting their joined palms gently on Tav's belly before bowing her head, cueing Shadowheart to do the same. "My Lady of Silver, guide this slumbering soul. Illuminate the path through the shadows that bind Tav. In your gentle light, awaken her spirit, bringing clarity and renewed vitality..." Isobel prayed, for a while, in fact.

When at last she departed and left them alone, Shadowheart made a point to close the door behind her, the click of the latch faintly resounding in the room. After removing her armor, she climbed into bed and snuggled up beside Tav, reveling in the warmth of her body. Her fingertips feathered over her arm, just the way she remembers soothed the rogue. She closes her eyes and inhales, savoring the faint scent of vanilla that still lingers on her skin. Her voice quivering she softly whispers, "I love you dearly, you foolish, fragile thing," her eyes stinging anew with tears. "And if you don't wake up soon..." She hesitated, her voice catching in her throat, "...you might just find yourself becoming a reluctant connoisseur of rare, aged cheese..."

"Don't..." rasped a voice she doubted she'd hear again "you dare..."

In a flash, Shadowheart sat up and stared down with wide eyes... into the open, heavy but incredibly beautiful eyes... Open... and locking with hers. "Thank Selûne..." Shadowheart breathed, barely aware of her quivering lip. "Thank you, Selûne..." As she threw her arms around Tav as best she could in this position. Nestling her nose into her neck, placing one soft kiss after another against her skin.

"Who are you, and what did you do with the real Shadowheart?" Tav coughed, but even with how dry her throat was, it was clearly a playful jab.

Shadowheart pulled back, narrowing her eyes for a moment in her own teasing glare, before it broke into a soft laugh. Leaving the bed only to pour Tav a cup of water. "Funny you mention that..." she started as she turned back to the bed and sat on the edge beside her. Helping guide Tav into a semi-upright position and despite handing the cup to her, Shadowheart maintained a hand on it to ensure it didn't slip.

The longer Tav stared at her, the more her brows creased. "How long have I been out? The bed... your hair..."

"Do you like it?" She queried, quickly touching a hand to her dyed white hair.

Tav's touch was tender as she took her hand, placing delicate kisses on each knuckle. "I love it." Lips brushing the back of her hand, holding it as she smiles into her eyes. Shadowheart's breath escaped her lips in an unexpected sigh, releasing the tension she didn't realize she was holding. The only compliment that truly soothed her nerves.

"And I love you too... Deeply." She added, biting her lip and shyly looking away.

Shadowheart paused, blinking. She... heard her?

She loves her back??

She...

She leans down slowly, their noses grazing, then their lips before they slowly press together. It's a sweet kiss at first. Tender, lazy, speaking things to each other that words could never capture. The taste so uniquely her and incredibly intoxicating. More than any wine she'd ever indulged in. She could kiss her forever and want for nothing, if her body would allow it. She's missed her lips so much that the tiniest of noises escapes her as her fingers tangle in the hairs on the nape of Tav's neck. "I've loved you for so long, but dared not allow you into my heart" She whispered against Tav's lips between kisses, "but now I can't imagine a day I'd hesitate to welcome you in it."

Shadowheart smiled a little at the way Tav's breath hitched at the words, their lips only briefly reconnecting before a knock came to the door.

It flung open before she had time to answer. "Shadsy, look what I found! Tav will love it when—!" Karlach gushes as she strides into the room, carrying a stuffed Owlbear toy. Cutting herself off when she realizes what she's walked in on, Shadowheart slowly straightening upright. "TAV, YOU'RE AWAKE." She shouts loud enough the whole tavern probably hears her.

And like that, the moment is shattered as their companions flood into the room. Karlach shoving the gift into Tav's arms, everyone smiling and even occasionally giving the gentlest of hugs to their awakened leader. Even Astarion seems genuinely relieved.

However, Shadowheart feels a pair of eyes directed at her. Casting a glance in its direction, she examines until she finds the source. Connecting with a certain Selûnite standing just outside the door. She responds to Shadowhearts silent confusion with a nod and smile, then turns away.

Shadowheart's lips curved into a gentle smile, illuminating her face with warmth, and returned her attention to Tav. Who she loved. Not so long ago, she believed her heart had only room for shadows, for darkness and loss. It only took nearly losing the love of her life twice to realize how foolish that belief was. Now, her heart warmed, and fluttered like a flame flickering to life. And it craved for so much more than she ever knew it could feel, nevermind hold. It yearned for her.

And Shadowheart would never deny her heart of her again.

[laughhardrunfastbekindsblog]

Hear me out:

It can be super frustrating to watch Emerie be complicit in the imprisonment and experimentation and torture of clones, having a change of heart only when she finds out there are kids in the basement (kids who, frankly, are being treated quite well relative to the other prisoners).

But what I find so fascinating about this plot point is that it is SO REALISTIC.

Even those of us who staunchly assert that there are lines that should never be crossed in how people are treated may find ourselves agreeing with the justifications for the treatment certain people - especially prisoners - receive, depending on what we know their crimes to be.

Imagine Emerie's point of view based on what she had been told of the prisoners. Maybe she only knew them as soldiers who had been court-martialed and sentenced to imprisonment for insubordination. But it's likely she had heard more details - through the lens of the Empire, of course - of what their insubordination entailed: Terrorists took over a planet's government when he disobeyed orders. This other clone betrayed his squad and they all died. That one over there went rogue and children died in the crossfire. He consorted with traitors. He blew up a civilian target. He murdered civilians when they couldn't provide intel. He shot his commanding officer in the face in an unprovoked attack.

We see early on that Emerie was bothered by Hemlock referring to Omega as "property." But I am sure that when it came to the adult, battle-hardened soldiers she saw every day, the atrocities she had likely been told they'd committed provided enough superficial justification for their imprisonment and treatment that she didn't bother thinking more deeply about the moral implications of what she was doing. (And besides, if some of the clones would just cooperate, it would be easier on them - they're just making it harder on themselves.)

But then she's confronted with children. Children who aren't soldiers. Children who hadn't committed any of the crimes that provide "justification" for the other clones being imprisoned on Tantiss. Children who are far too young to have done anything to warrant imprisonment (and lest there be ANY doubt about this - some children have been known to show dangerous tendencies, after all - Cad Bane promptly drops off a baby).

The children are what forcibly open Emerie's eyes to see that the experiments on Tantiss aren't limited to subjects who might "deserve" such treatment. And if some subjects don't deserve it... maybe none of them do. Maybe everything she's been doing - including with the adult prisoners - HAS been wrong.

[half-dead-ham]

Tim Drake's I.E.F Chap 5

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Mmmmm this is probably gonna be the last chapter I link to Tumblr tonight. It's like, 2am? Yea I deserve some sleep. I'll hopefully get some more out tmrr. But who knows? Certainly not me.

Also. I have never pulled a prank on my sib and this chapter displays that fully.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Looking over the plans on his laptop, Tim can't help but smile. It may be slightly maniacal, but with the plans he has, he couldn't help it.

Only a day has passed since Jason came to check on Tim, and since then he's been putting together a series of plans for his siblings. We're they good plans? No, not at all.

Tim, with the ready help of his new friend that could go both invisible and intangible had prepared a set of pranks specifically for each family member -minus Bruce and Alfred- in order of who needs it most. A few times while writing in the document he titled 'the shit list' he could hear his friend giggling from over his shoulder, the soft reverb sending chills down his spine that had nothing to do with the familiar cold his friend gave off. It was distracting, but it showed that Tim had gotten a bit closer with Arcturus, even if just a little bit.

"Alright," he nodded, giving the list one last look over before turning to where he could feel the epicentre of the cold.

"I have one last thing that'll make this perfect." Tim turned to rummage in his bedside table, absently noting the lack of strain such a movement had on his wounds. His hand brushed what he was looking for, and he pulled it out to show to Arct, laying the object on the palm of his hand. A compact surveillance camera sat neatly on his palm, perfect for watching the chaos unfold from the safety of his hospital bed in the medbay while his friend enacted righteous vengeance.

Arcturus must have grabbed the camera because it floated off his palm over to the bedside chair, turning every so often for his friend to get a better view of the device.

"Cool isn't it? We use these to keep tabs on some of the regular rogue hideouts, and sometimes infiltrations if we need a wire." Tapping a few things on his keyboard he brought up the camera's feed. A grainy image appeared, jumping and lagging every few seconds. Odd, this was supposed to be a newer model, there shouldn't be any interference with the signal, especially this close to the cam itself.

To his left Arct made a trill that sounded like clinking icicles and a feeling of understanding that wasn't his own washed over Tim. Frowning and looking over he watched his friend bring up the camera to what Tim thought would be about chest level, and just to its left sparked to life a green flame.

No, that wasn't quite right, the green pulsed and warbled, but it stayed mostly circular, not pointed like a candle's flame. The light moved closer to the camera and Tim could just make out the silhouette of his friend's pointed claw before it made contact. Touching the light to the camera seemed to affect it somehow, as he watched the camera absorb the light fully, glowing slightly before that too faded into the device.

Tim wondered just what Arct had done to the device until the laptop in front of him notified him with a ding! 

'New power source detected, convert?' He'd never seen that pop-up before. Cautiously glancing back over to the chair, he clicked the 'accept' button and watched as the program closed, then opened back up a second later. The camera feed now had a slight green tint to it, but the glitching and static had stopped. 'Whatever Arct had done to the camera probably counteracted the interference his aura gave off,' Tim figured.

He turned to his friend to give his thanks, but the words died on his lips as he watched the small figure of the camera flicker and disappear. Trying to find them was useless, his friend could obscure the cold feeling he gave off when he wanted, even Tim couldn't find him. Tim turned back to the footage on his laptop only to get jumpscared by a closeup of his own face.

A ghostly giggle echoed in front of him as Tim groaned. Arcturus really did fit perfectly in this family if he was already scaring him like that for no reason.

"Okay, okay, enough playing around. Ready to start a war?" He grinned, sharp and feral. He could only imagine Arct was doing the same as the camera came back into view to bob up and down rapidly.

Oh, this was going to be fun.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Danny first tracks down Stephanie in the library. The blond Danny's come to know as Spoiler is lounging on one of the many couches in the large room with a book in hand and a glass of water on the small table next to her. Too focused on her book, she reaches over to get her drink without looking. She frowns, she knew she put her glass close by, but she can't find it by touch alone.

Frowning, she finally tears her gaze from her book to the end table beside her, only to find her water, sitting innocently where she had left it. Taking and inspecting it reveals nothing out of place with the glass or the table. Stephanie says nothing as she looks out to the rows of bookshelves, then behind her and the couch, trying to find anyone to place blame, but she was alone. Or so she thought.

Turning back, she shrugs to herself and tips the glass to take a sip, only to yelp as a large ice cube slid out of the cup and onto her nose. She jumps back in her seat, startled, at the solid chunk of what used to be her drinking water now sitting in her lap. Hesitantly, she pokes at it, expecting it to seemingly explode. Once, twice, three times all come up with something cold but solid. The fourth time her nail lightly grazes the side and suddenly she's drenched from the waist down in room temperature water.

She rushes to her feet, pants soaked and dripping onto the carpet. Again, she looks around for anyone in the room, even glaring at the high tops of the bookshelves, expecting one of her family members to jump out and tell her she just got pranked. But again, she's alone in the library. Danny lets a breathy chuckle escape him as he watches Stephanie glare accusingly at nothing, then her soiled pants, and finally storming out of the library, book now forgotten. He makes sure the book is left on another couch in case she comes back. Then floats off to find his next target.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Damian is in his room working on that day's portion of homework when he feels a presence. An all too familiar presence that reminds him of a time before he lived in the manor.

A dangerous presence.

He spins around in his chair, previously concealed dagger now in hand. The room hasn't changed, his weapons are still perched in their displays on his wall, the curtains sway lightly in the mid afternoon breeze. Paranoia runs through him like electricity as he crosses the room to close the window, certain of what he felt. Pit demons could not be seen by normal men, they were monsters spawned by the Lazarus pits to bring chaos and madness for all those trying to use their powers. If there were a pit demon in the manor, they would all be dead before long.

Moving back to his desk in slow movements, Damian tried to pick up on that familiar feeling. The feeling of unchecked desire and death. He found an empty room.

This did not comfort him.

Damian took another dagger out of its hiding place just as he heard the door handle rattle. Tearing the door almost off its hinges he raced after that presence through the house, down corridors and ballrooms, stairways and secret passageways. The presence finally stopped in the main foyer. Damian scanned the entrance room with daggers drawn, trying to sense where the thing had disappeared to.

Just as the tension started to leave his shoulders with the thought of 'needing more sleep, lest he end up like Drake' a snowflake landed on his nose. He looked up just in time to see a mound of snow fall on him in a whump! leaving only his head and neck exposed. With his body restrained, Damian could do nothing as the pit demon's presence glides back up the main staircase and disappears down a corridor, static hissing conveying its glee in its wake.

-

Damian returns to his room cold and damp, a blanket on his shoulders and mug of warm cardamom milk in his hand. Swinging the door open Damian is outraged to see all his weapons, hidden ones included, painted and arranged on his floor in the forms of several different flowers. He growls and glowers at nothing.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Tim made sure to save Duke for last, as his powers might give Arct some trouble. Danny doesn't know exactly why a guy like Duke is on 'the shit list' but doesn't question it if it means getting to prank someone.

The meta is currently using the training space in the cave to practice grapples and throws in a simulation.

A cold chill runs up his spine and he blocks a punch. Duke knows no one besides Tim is in the cave, and he shouldn't be up and running around yet, so otherwise Duke is alone. The simulation ends, Duke bent over with hands on his knees as he tries to steady his breathing. Something passes behind him, cold and charged, like a broken power line in the middle of winter. He glanced behind him, breathing having levelled out some, but sees nothing. Looking over his other shoulder provides similar results.

Suspicious, Duke calls out to the empty room.

"Hello?" His voice echoes in the silence of the cavernous room. Something else replies, a cold haunting whisper of a laugh. It has no source that he could see, bouncing off the stone walls and seemingly coming from every direction. The black and white streak from the corner of his vision is the final straw, he needs to nope the heck out of here.

Taking quick strides out of the training room, he only makes it past the threshold when something grabs his ankle. He tries to jerk away but the thing's grip is strong, keeping him bound to that spot on the floor even as he's leaning back with his full weight. It's grip on his ankle loosens ever so slightly after a moment, and Duke hopes he's able to get away with that smidge more wiggle room.

His heart plummets as a sensation radiates out from the grip, cold like spearmint and chilled water. It envelops him, and for a second Duke feels weightless.

Then, the thing pulls.

Duke is pulled through the floor, scream caught in his throat as stone and dirt pass through him and the unseen being. He tries to see what has him, but this darkness doesn't respond as it would normally. His X-ray vision doesn't help either, as it just shows him more earth and the sewers below Gotham.

A sinking feeling slips into the pit of his stomach as he wonders if he'll be left down here, were the thing that has him let go. That thought was jerked away with him as the being dragged him up up up and breaches land. It was all he could do to not cry from relief at seeing the late Gotham sky when gravity reasserted itself and the pressure on his ankle vanished. He dropped face first into the grass.

"Owww…" Duke groans. Laying there seems like the better option as he tries to get his heart rate under control for a different reason than before. Rolling over takes more energy than he'd like, but it's worth it if it means he's not inhaling grass. Cracking one eye open he does not expect to see a shadowy figure leaning over him, it's green eyes peering at him, inspecting him like a specimen. He lays as still as he can, not wanting to breathe as this creature's eyes wash over him like a tiger watching an antelope.

The things eyes travel up to his face, and a cheshire grin manifests itself in the roiling black of its face, stark white in contrast and with too many teeth. 'Ah, I'm going to die' was all Duke could think before the thing lunges. Screwing his eyes shut might have been the last thing he ever does…

A few minutes pass and nothing happens. No pain or cold could be felt anywhere on his body, so he cautiously cracks an eye open. Blue sky overhead, trees and the manor in the distance, but no sight of the black thing that literally dragged him here. Duke sits up slowly, turning his head to try and see the thing.

It's gone.

He could almost think it was a dream if he didn't have to walk all the way back to the manor in his workout gear.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The prank war—more of a slaughter really—went on for the next two days. At random hours strange things will go on around the three siblings still in the manor, things disappearing and reappearing in other locations, water turning to ice when they blink and back again, strange noises or cold spots in empty rooms. It all leads up to dinner.

Tim had been given the okay from Alfred to exit medbay and eat solid food. Alfred had marvelled at Tim's speedy recovery—no one heals from a bullet to the lung in a week and a half—but made sure to drill into him that he wouldn't be doing any strenuous work, during the day or night.

Tim was okay with that, he thought as he sat down and watched as the others set the table around him. The three targets were haggard and paranoid, jumping at shadows (in Duke's case literally.) Arcturus was around somewhere close, he had hidden his presence as Tim hobbled up the stairs with Alfred's help, and Tim wondered if he'd be able to get away with anymore pranking today.

With the table set, the three sat across from Tim, stiff and uncomfortable. Tonight's dinner would be soup, mainly because Tim still had to recover, but there was a side of steamed vegetables and buttered bread to be dipped if preferred.

They sat in tense silence, Bruce late again, as always. Smirking, Tim tried to make conversation with his three siblings.

"So, anything interesting happen around here while I was rotting in bed?"

Damian scowled and glanced to his left, towards Bruce's chair. Duke paled by at least two shades, and Stephanie's eye twitched.

"Nothing happened Timmy, we're all just peachy." Steph ground out. Man she was really on her last straw.

Good.

He watched absently as a piece of steamed broccoli dropped into the plate. 'So Arct was hiding under the table' he thought as he tried making more small talk with his siblings.

"Y'know I've been hearing some strange things down in the cave, I'm almost starting to believe it's haunted." He says with a chuckle. Not like he was wrong.

The elbow to the shin both confirms where Arct is and tells him maybe that joke was in bad taste if the ghost doesn't want to be noticed.

Damian's glare told him he didn't miss the minute flinch he gave at that. Neither did Duke apparently, as his brow furrows. Damn detective training. Luckily Steph is still trying to burn a hole through her bowl with her eyes like Superman.

After that they eat in silence. The sound of clinking cutlery and shuffling in seats fills the room. At one point Duke seems to notice Tim's disappearing veggies, despite Tim not eating them. He drops his spoon, and it clatters off the table with a sound that could have been a gunshot in the quiet dining room.

"Ope, sorry,'' he mutters sheepishly as he scoots his chair back enough to bend down and get it.

As he's bent over, Duke looks over to Tim's side of the table. He nearly jumps out of his skin as he watches the thing, just sitting against his brother's legs, pulling a carrot through the table and putting it in its mouth. He must've made a noise or something, because the thing snaps to look at him with those toxic green eyes. A black appendage lifts for it to wave at him, that Cheshire grin curling out of its face with too many teeth.

Duke jumps back, hitting his head on the underside of the table and falling out of his seat. He scrambles out from under the table to see his three siblings staring at him. Pointing a shaking hand at the thing at Tim's feet he croaked, his voice cracking in fear.

"Something-" He swallowed, mouth suddenly dry, "-Something's under the table."

Damian shoots to his feet, newly revealed dagger in hand. Stephanie bolts up too, backing away slowly from the table like it might eat her if she moves too quickly.

Yeah, Tim might have just screwed up.

The frosty sensation pressing against his leg vanishes and he could see Duke gaping at him from the floor. Right, Intangibly, Arcturus probably went through the floor and is gonna hide out in the cave for a while until dinner is over. Tim inwardly let out a sigh of relief. Time to cover his ass.

"What's wrong Duke? Saw a spider or something?" Tim grins down at the other boy from his seat.

"What? No! I saw this, this thing! It was this smokey black thing with green eyes and way too many teeth!" Duke is still pointing at his legs under the table, like Arct will just come back for funsies.

Tim absently wondered if that's what Jason saw, looking at Arcturus. He never gave a description of his friend, even though he came back a few days later. Though he did get pranked by them. They got found out pretty quickly and started talking about other ways to mess with the family after that.

"Tt, so you can see the pit demon then, unsurprising." Damian scowled in Tim's direction, was he taking his anger out on Tim like that? Maybe.

"Wait, hold on-" Steph points at Damian. "-You know what this thing is? And you haven't told us?" She accused.

"I had it under control, it did not seem important as it had not yet tried to harm anyone as of yet." Damian retorted.

"Harm anyone? That thing is violent?!"

"Normally, those of its species are, yes."

Their shouting soon devolved into bickering, their feelings of suspicion and paranoia finally being released in the form of a shouting match as Duke remained frozen on the floor staring at Tim from under the table.

Tim propped his chin on his fist, elbow on the table as the show went on. Honestly this could use some popcorn.

Just as he was getting comfortable Duke squinted at him.

"You knew about that thing, didn't you?" The suspicion was palpable in his voice.

"Knew about what?" He asked innocently.

"The thing! It was up against your legs, you would either have noticed it and tried to get away or you already knew about it!"

Oh, shit. The other two had died down in their shouting match to look at him now. Not good.

Tim tries deflecting, "Duke, I've been tired and sore for a week and a half, you really think I'd be noticing if my legs felt a little chilly?"

The arguing turned into a four-way match. He tried valiantly to deny all accusations thrown at him, but he was up against three other bat-trained detectives, he was bound to let something slip.

"Are you telling us," Damian ground out, "that you just let a dangerous supernatural creature follow you to the manor? Not only are you an imbecile, but you are suicidal as well."

"I didn't let it follow me, I was unconscious. Dick let it follow him." He countered, full face in his hands. This really did not turn out the way he wanted it to.

"And so, what? You just decided 'well they didn't believe me about this, so let's get back at them a little?'" Stephanie had stopped shouting, but the anger was still hot in her voice.

"Basically," he shrugged.

The three across from Tim were about to start berating him, again, when Bruce finally showed up. He looked at the three angry teenagers on one side of the table, then Tim trying to disappear into the chair cushions on the other.

"Did I miss something?" He asked.

His siblings wanted to regale Bruce with his stupidity, but Tim cut them off before they could start.

"They were just telling me how stupid it was of me to try and have coffee with dinner so soon into my recovery." He lied.

Bruce shot a stern look at Tim as he sat down. "And they're right, you're barely out of medbay Tim, coffee won't do you any good right now."

Tim gave a noncommittal hum at that.

The dinner moved quickly after that. Glares were not so subtly shot his way and he no longer felt the same joy he did at the beginning. He decided to cut his losses and retire to his room early.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

'This did not go how I thought it would,' Tim thought as he not so gently shut his door and flopped onto his bed. At least he could hole himself up in his room now, so that's a positive.

A cold presence nears his right and gives a small hum, the noise conveyed concern and regret. Arct felt sorry for leaving him? It was his own fault he got himself into that mess. He turned his head from where it was smashed into the mattress to look at where his friend sat, the bed dipping slightly at the invisible weight.

"Not your fault," Tim mumbled through the sheets. "I thought of the pranks, you just did them for me. You still don't trust me enough to even show yourself, and I put you in a dangerous spot for some fun."

He glumly turned his head back into the sheets. He knew his friend didn't trust the bats, he knew Damian knew about pit demons from Jason, yet he still thought using his friend and possibly outing him to his family was a good idea. Stupid, stupid! Tim let out an anguished groan, wallowing and repeating depressing thoughts like a mantra in his head.

All thoughts screeched to a halt when something ran over his scalp. He looked up, expecting not to see anything but instead found a floating white glove carding its fingers soothingly through his hair. Tim felt his eyes flutter as he practically melted into the mattress, his previous thought spiral completely forgotten.

A Trilling chirp sounding of a connecting audio jack moved a question through the air, one simple enough Tim could decipher clearly; better? Leaning into his friend's touch he breathed a sigh of relief.

"Yeah," he breathed. "Thanks for helping me get out of my head. Sorry I had to tell them some things about you, Dami will probably try and stick around me now to make sure you aren't going to hurt anyone."

The fingers continued their paths through his hair as a trill of understanding filled him. Man, he'd made a great friend.

They continued like that in silence for a while, a floating white glove carding through Tim's hair, and Tim condensing into a puddle on the sheets from the comforting ministrations.

At Tim's yawn, the fingers stopped. Tim groaned at the loss. He looked hazily to his friend, silently urging him to continue. His friend responded with a cold wind rustling branches, the meaning of rest drew another groan from the puddle of teen. Ever so slowly he got up to go to the bathroom and get ready for bed, swaying slightly on his feet occasionally. Arcturus was still there when he got back, with clean pyjamas and a washed face. Tim crawled back into bead and was delighted when the fingers returned to his hair, accompanied by the purr he'd heard on the first night he'd met Arcturus, promising safety and sleep. The petting didn't stop until soft snores could be heard in the dark bedroom.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Danny was feeling hungry. His stomach had been roaring since he smelled dinner and it only got worse since stealing the veggies off Tim's plate. Maybe not attending to his human needs for a week and a half wasn't the greatest idea in retrospect, but the need for safety came first. He was currently in a house filled with highly trained and suspicious heroes and hero adjacents, he needed to be more than careful here, or he'd get caught by someone less friendly than Tim and Jason.

Still, he was hungry, and he probably needed a shower. After making sure all the vigilantes' returned from their patrols and tucked themselves safely in their beds, Danny used one of the furthest of the many spare bedroom ensuites (seriously how many rooms does this mansion have?) to scrub all his built up grime away. Not that he sweat or got dirty in ghost form, really, he just phases all the dirt off him, but nothing felt better after a week of stress than a shower.

It was heavenly.

Phasing the water off while in the tub would save the suspicion of a damp towel in an unused bedroom. He got dressed in his most recently washed clothes, thanking his past self for going to the laundromat before all this went down as he stuck his stuff back in the wall.

Danny crept down the winding halls of the manor towards the kitchen, remembering each turn from when he'd explore invisibly while Tim was asleep. Adding a little ghost power aided his steps to be deathly silent.

The kitchen was dark, not that it bothered Danny, as he made a B-line for the fridge. Opening it revealed a treasure trove of ingredients, fruits and veggies, meats and cheese, truly a fridge fit to serve five to twenty people at a time.

He grabbed a carrot and shoved it in his mouth, satisfied he had that to munch on. Danny started cherry picking other snacks, trying to make sure he could get somewhat of a balanced meal out of his pilfering.

The slight rustling of fabric made him stiffen, then a voice behind him had his core sink to his stomach.

"Master Jason, I do believe I have told you to send an advanced notice before you decide to come for a late-night snack," Alfred scolded the large silhouetted form.

Shit.

Shit shit shit shit shit.

Danny didn't move from his hunched position, unsure of what to do. He couldn't lie to the butler, he knew Jason much better than Danny did and would be able to smell the lie as soon as he turned around. Running wouldn't help either, Alfred had seen him. In human form. He'd tell Bruce as soon as he could. 'A mysterious man had bypassed all the detection alarms and raided the fridge early this morning' would send the bat on a search of the manor, top to bottom.

"Master Jason? Are you alright?"

Ah, he'd stayed quiet too long, shit.

The rustling of cloth came closer and in a panic Danny went invisible. A sharp inhale was the only indication of Alfred's surprise, and turning showed the man searching the room with eyebrows raised. Slowly the butler walked to the fridge, taking graceful, sturdy steps as he glided across the kitchen, expecting an attack. As he grabbed the handle of the open fridge door Danny turned intangible to let the door pass through him.

Alfred jerked his hand back as it went through Danny's chest, feeling as though he'd just stuck it in a bucket of dry ice. He'd tried to find the cold spot again, but by then Danny had already flown through the ceiling to Tim's room, the food in his arms forgotten.

Dropping his snacks to the floor as he made it to the correct bedroom Danny rushed to the sleeping form before him and shook him.

"Tim, Tim wake up!" He whisper-shouted, not caring if he was speaking English instead of ghost speak. "Tim, I need your help!"

Tim rolled over, groggy and half asleep.

"Whazzap?" He slurred before yawning.

"Your butler saw me."

"What?"

~~~~~~~~~~~~

[Ao3][Prev][Next]

[teecupangel]

Been holding a thought on my brain for too long abt putting Desmond in Situations: have you watched Dimension 20's The Unsleeping City? At least s1. Bc 1) watch it, it's so good & 2) I specifically in this situation think abt Bad Weather being the normal version of the bar in Broadway that Kingston & Misty go to. Pre-canon Desmond seeing past the Umbral Arcana & getting involved in magic shenanigans..... Yeah.

You know his latent Eagle Vision is peeling out & seeing the magic shit happening in New York City. You KNOWWWWW. Please tell me one of your followers has been thinking this too.

I have good news for you, nonny, because I have just started watching Dimension 20 this year but I am a slow watcher so I’ve only gotten as far as the first 3 episodes of Unsleeping City season 2 (atm, I think my fav D20 moment is with the Bad Kids’ “Spring Break, I believe in you!” XD). I’m one of those few people who’s pathway to D&D and TTRPG is Oxventure→No Rolls Barred/Chaotic Neutral→Mystery Quest so I am absolutely late to the party XD

Anyway, for this one, we need to do a bit of housekeeping.

I’m basing this on the title of the opening theme New York 2006 because I think that’s the year Season 1 was set (feel free to correct me though)

This means that Desmond would be 19 at that point and we can push it that he’s already working in Bad Weather.

Now, I like the idea that Bad Weather is the normal version of the bar that Kingston and Misty goes to but, may I suggest an alternative?

An earlier possible way to add Desmond to all these shenanigans is to make Bad Weather one of the bars Sofia and Kugrash go to for their ‘hairy baby free drinks scam’.

Towards the end, maybe the last bar they go to, Desmond walks up to Sofia and requested that they leave because the big rat pet she had would make other customers uncomfortable.

Sofia and Kugrash are already drunk at this moment but they hear Desmond call Kugrash a rat and are like “you can see him???”.

Kugrash immediately remembers Desmond as one of the homeless kids he helped when Desmond first moved into the city and had clocked him as ‘strange’ because there was something about him that felt... not exactly magical but almost magical-adjacent.

This ends with Sofia and Kugrash inviting Desmond to their new party as a recruit (with Sofia thinking both (1) this boy needs someone in his life to take care of him and now I’m trying not to cry because my cheating (as far as she knows) husband and I never had kids and (2) maybe he and Pete can get along as newbies with me)

And that is how our Intrepid Heroes managed to recruit an Assassin Rogue who may or may not multiclass to Gloom Stalker in a different playstyle to Liam Wilhelmina.

.

Unorganized Notes:

This is a Desmond who doesn’t know about his destiny or his ancestors but his training on the Farm is so ingrained into him that it makes him a Rogue.

Because of his lack of knowledge, we can argue that he could turn into a Thief Rogue instead of Assassin in this one because he had never assassinated anyone before.

In terms of playstyle, he’d actually be more a close combat attacker that uses some kind of switchknife with sneak attack being part of 'bonus action: hide -> main action: sneak attack')

Another suggestion I have is for Desmond to subclass as Phantom, more because of ‘Whisper of the Dead’ where every short or long rest, he can gain one skill or tool proficiency and the flavor text describes it as one of the ghostly presence shares its knowledge to the user. Desmond has no idea what this means because this is pre-canon but this is actually his ancestors managing to create a link to him in some form thanks to the Umbral Arcana mixing with his ‘destiny’.

If you want Desmond to be given the illusion of choice and not be a Rogue, we can make him a Warlock ‘worshiping’ an unknown Fathomless. In this setup, they don’t know who Desmond’s patron is and Desmond himself just shrugs because he can do magic so that’s nice. Part of his deal is that he receives messages from his patron in the form of texts on his phone. They all come from an unknown number he can’t call and the texts are always like ‘The Scholar is pleased with your desire to learn about the history of this place’ or ‘The Prophet is worried of your health and asks that you requests your companions for a rest’ or ‘The Hunter suggests you still find a weapon even if you are using magic’ and this is some weird shit even for Kingston because it seems like Desmond has multiple patrons or maybe even an entire pantheon of unknown gods/beings.

Abstergo is going to be so fucked in this one because, by the time they try to kidnap Desmond, he’d probably be around level 10~12 and maybe even living with Pete in his apartment.

And yes. Desmond absolutely knows Ricky as Mister March as well XD

[ludi-ling]

Woooooow... just saw ep 9 of X'Men 97. I may not like all of their choices, but damn do they go hard and I appreciate the execution of it. The last minute was soooo much wow. Prof X mind controlling Magneto, Magneto helmeting him and about to kill him, Wolverine stabbing Magneto and Magneto un-adamantiuming Wolvie...wooooow...

I do not know what they're going to do next. I knew Rogue would go to Magneto based on her costume alone. That's the OG terrorist Rogue/villainous Rogue costume. I might not love that decision of her going to Magneto... but based on what's happened, it makes sense. And omg, her wearing Remy's trench coat? Cryyyying. The one thing I can see with Rogue going back to the X-Men is Magneto wanting to kill Deathbit because Deathbit is dangerous.

Because I still believe Remy is coming back. I cite X-Treme X-Men and everything Rogue says to bring him back. Absolute Points? Nexus Events? They don't matter. X-Men make their own miracles. I literally said this as my thesis for why Gambit is coming back and then hours later the panel appeared on my feed lol.

One more week of me screaming, crying and throwing up.

Rogue is pissed. She's had to face a trauma she hasn't had to ever face before. I can completely understand this trajectory she's walking. It makes sense for the arc that her character is going through in this universe. The bit where she handed back the trench coat though? That killed me.

Gambit will come back. It's just a matter of how and when. I can't believe people truly think he's going to stay dead. 🤷🏻‍♀️

I truly appreciate this series for taking something we all loved as kids and spinning it into an adult story. I know it's hard - literally everyone is miserable in this show - but damn, I suppose that's life. And I guess it's hard for some fans to accept the turn this show has taken when we all expected the gentle fluff of Romy in TAS. What Romy have had so far in XM97, and eventually will have, is something far more adult and something I'm far more interested in than the non-committal flirting we got in TAS.

Don't get me wrong - there are plenty of things in XM97 I don't agree with or like. But on the whole I think it's done a really good job in (let's face it) a short amount of time of achieving something smart and thought-provoking and visceral despite its flaws. I'm actually kind of excited to see what happens next. I'm ready to be disappointed again, but I'm ready to be pleasantly surprised too.

At the very least, it has got me inspired to write Romy again. A LOT of the heartache and anger and admiration I have felt watching the show I have channelled into writing The Tailor & The Seamstress, and it's been the first time I've been genuinely excited about fic in a while. So I have a lot to thank the show for, despite all the anxiety and angst it's given me.

[ravenloop]

hi darling! i do see that you want requests in your inbox so im here to fullfil that want of yours :)

oh, btw i really do expect that you're well and, if you don't, please take care of yourself okay??

anyways, the request is for the arcana characters, more specifically for julian, asra and muriel (idk how much characters you accept for request but if you need to you can take one of these off) with a reader that does like art and try to make everything in their lifes a little bit more fun, colorful and artsy.

you can write in any format you're more comfortable in writing, but i think that maybe headcannons is easier. oh, and if you could do the reader gender neutral would be good!

oh and if you couldn't understand something, im sorry, english is not my first language. and if you want to, feel free to ignore this request.

AN: Thank you for the kind words!! I am doing well, busy but well :)) also you speak English amazingly!! Anyways here's your request <33 I haven't done Muriel's route yet so forgive me if anything is wrong :')

Headcannons: Julian, Asra and Muriel with an artistic S/O

—————————————————

Julian:

Honestly? He loves it!

It may not seem like it with the pirate outfit and rogue-ish lifestyle, but Julian is quite the colour lover himself. He just loves the energy and atmosphere vibrant colours bring.

So when you and him meet, and he finds out you're an even bigger lover of colours and an artist at that—the man was practically bursting with excitement.

Definitely gets you some art supplies. But since Julian has little to zero knowledge on being an artist, his art supplies aren't always the most helpful. Though you still appreciate him for trying to help with your hobby, even if his "paint" looks like it belongs in a potion brewing shop.

Practically demands to see some of your older art works and becomes sad if you say no. It's fine though if you don't let him, he'll find them eventually (his words, not yours).

Whenever you're painting or doing anything artsy, he's almost always by your side asking questions and just chatting with you. And as always you enjoy it when he's with you, it makes you feel warm inside knowing he's as passionate about watching you paint as you are about painting.

"Julian, I need you to-"

"I know, I know—you want me to stop staring at you. But I can't help it! You're just so beautiful when you're focused on something you're so passionate about!"

"...That's really sweet, but that's not what I was gonna ask. You're sitting on my paint pallette, could you maybe get off it?"

"WHAT—"

Asra:

You're an artist?? He's ENAMOURED already.

Asra adores everything you paint. He himself is a bit of an artist, but he doesn't paint as often as you since he's always busy with the Major Arcana amongst other things.

When he travels for long periods of time and comes back, he always brings you things like art supplies, trinkets or flowers, saying, "They reminded me of you." And he loves watching your eyes sparkle as you think of the different ways you can use the items.

After a long day, Asra just likes curling up besides you while you create your masterpieces. He'll bring you a warm drink and food too, before settling down on a blanket besides you.

If you ask, he'll give you some pointers or tell you what you could add to your work as you paint. He has an eye for detail.

"I think a few flowers would look really nice over here." He points to a certain part of the canvas.

"You always think flowers look nice in every painting," You playfully respond, and see him look away shyly. "What can I say? They really do!"

Asra could stare at your work for hours without feeling the need to look away. He just loves the mixture of colours and patterns you use. They remind him of the different realms and he finds that beautiful.

Sometimes you even use things from around his home for inspiration. It could be anything—his clothes, the intricate patterns on his curtains, sometimes even his tarot cards, and he won't say it aloud but it gives him a bit of a confidence boost. It's almost as if a piece of him is within your art work.

Muriel:

Muriel is a very... Dark and gloomy man in general.

The forest is his home, but not the pretty and flower-filled part, he makes his home in the shadowy, dark and somewhat dangerous parts of the forest.

So when you come into his life and bring all of this colour and vibrance, it throws him off. He doesn't know what to make of it. He feels to seen with all of it.

"What are you doing?" He approaches you as you hang a vine of flowers over the fireplace.

You look back and smile, "I thought it could use a little bit of... Decor..." You notice the way he frowns, even harder than usual as he stares at the decoration. "I'll take it ou-" "No. Leave it."

You're shocked, "Muriel, if you don't like it I can-" "I like it. It's pretty... Like you" He mutters the last part, so softly you almost don't hear him. Then he leaves. Quickly.

You smile to yourself.

After that you notice he spends more time with you as you decorate or make things, you even started asking him for his opinion on some things. He always responds with "Hm..." But you'll take what you can get.

Sometimes you take Inanna with you to hunt for things in the wild that you could use. Muriel was weary at first of letting you go with her, but Inanna seemed happy to go, so Muriel allowed it. After a while you even convinced him to come along on your art scouting journeys too. He comes in handy when you get carried away and find a little too many items that you need to take with you.

Oh and if anyone ever criticizes your art, no they didn't. In fact, almost as soon as they criticize it, they're on their knees worshipping you and the art itself. Why? Let's just say a big, terrifying man glaring down at you with eyes that say "I will rip your limbs apart and relish in every second of it" is not very fun.

—————————————————

[sylviesoothsayer22]

Well Matched - Chapter 1

Lycoris radiata

When the Yiling Laozu’s spirit emerged from the Burial Mounds as a newborn Calamity, the entire cultivation world trembled in fear.

Wei Ying just wanted to find a quiet place to rest. He had no plan, so he naturally followed the strange butterfly that seemed to beckon him somewhere. What’s the worst that could happen?

“You’re adorable.”

“I thought I was charming.”

“Charming and adorable. I’m tempted to keep you.”

“….sweet-talker.”

“Rejoice, Wei Wuxian is dead!”

“Fantastic, fantastic indeed! Remind me again, who was the hero who killed the Yiling Laozu?”

“His shidi! The little sect leader Jiang Cheng!”

Everyone in the tavern laughed and declared those who have led the Siege of the Burial Mounds heroes. They all toasted to the Patriarch’s demise.

It had been several months since the news first broke out and many have not yet ceased celebrating.

A condescending snort cut through their revelry. All eyes were drawn to the rogue cultivator lounging in his seat. One youth lazily twisted his head to the man’s direction and cast his left eye on the speaker.

“Too early for that.” He rumbled. “The days of the Yiling Laozu are far from over.”

“What do you mean?”

“Let me ask you all a question.” The speaker said. Clearly pleased to have everyone’s attention. “Since Wei Wuxian wasn’t born into the Jiang sect, how many Soul-Tranquilization Rites has he undergone before his violent death?”

Almost every member in the tavern paled in realization.

“You can’t mean that he’ll come back as a ghost!”

“Even if he did, every soul within the Burial Mounds are trapped there. The amount of resentful energy alone makes it impossible for the dead to break free!”

“The Burial Mounds no longer hold as much resentful energy as they used to.” The cultivator informed them gravely.

“What do you mean?!”

“Speak plainly!”

“Don’t go around spreading false rumours for attention, you old fart!”

The only person who didn’t put up a fuss was the youth who was watching the pandemonium with a bored expression. The cultivator gazed at the anxious crowd in silence before loudly slamming his jug on the table.

“Silence! Do you wish to hear what happened after the Siege or not?!”

Everyone quieted and listened to the cultivator with wrapped attention as he began his tale:

“After the Patriarch’s demise, all was quiet for a while and the Great Sects believed it would be the end of it. Yet, some wandering cultivators detected strange disturbances within the Mounds. The resentful energy appeared to be constantly fluctuating. Through their observations, they saw a thick red fog emerge and cover the mountains. The wanderers notified the sects who sent out members of high rank. Those same men would come back and swear blind that they saw the Patriarch lurking around.”

“How is it that no one has heard of this until now?”

“The sects silenced as many gossipers as they could find. They did not wish to spread panic or give the demonic worshippers hope.” The cultivator cast the interrupter a slight glare. “May I continue now?” He asked dryly.

“At that point, all of the sects believed that Wei Wuxian did not pass on. Many high-ranking cultivators, sect leaders and head disciples converged on the spot where they sensed the yin energy was at its highest, believing that the Patriarch’s spirit was still recuperating. Wanting to put an end to this drawn-out battle, they rushed at the swirling mass only to stop in their tracks!”

“Thorny black vines shot through the rocky ground and held them all in a vice-like grip. They tried to hack them off with their swords, but new vines would grow in their place. The bound cultivators felt themselves growing weak. Somehow, Wei Wuxian drained them of their spiritual energy. What’s worse, the red fog surrounding the mountain hardened and formed into a barrier. By the time the cultivators realized that they had walked into a trap, there was a familiar sound of a dizi playing.”

The crowd’s eyes were as wide as saucers. The youth’s eyes were narrowed in deep thought. Many leaned forward as the cultivator continued with his story:

“A figure emerged through the fog. None other than the Yiling Laozu himself! Different, but still recognizable. When he was last seen, he was gaunt, injured and looked ready to collapse at any moment. Back then, he looked fragile but unmistakably human. Now, not anymore. His skin was as white as pale snow. The grey of his robes swirled unnaturally against the breeze like ash. The black of his clothes were so dark, they appeared to be devouring any form of light. It almost looked as if it were made of shadows. His eyes let out an eerie blood red glow. There was a vial full of -what appeared to be- ashes suspended around his neck by a red string. The strangest addition to Wei Wuxian’s appearance was the countless ghostly-green fireflies floating around him. What purpose they serve, I do not know.”  The speaker shook his head. His expression haunted.

“Everyone believed that the Patriarch was about to start another massacre. One that would overshadow what he did in Nightless City. Instead, he plays one sharp note and Wei Wuxian dissolved into a murder of crows! The crows and fireflies passed through the shield and scattered into several different directions. Everyone else was left trapped within the barrier. For whatever reason, Wei Wuxian chose to spare the cultivation world his wrath that night.”

The crowd traded panicked whispers among themselves. The speaker watched them with an amused expression.

“You make it sound as if you were there.” The red robed youth piped up, while the rest of the tavern were busy processing the Yiling Laozu’s strange new powers. The rogue cultivator looked at the youth, affronted.

“I was there, ignorant brat! It took us nearly six months to break through that damned barrier and another three to search for that devil’s weakness in the Burial Mounds!”

“How has no one heard of this until now?” A member of the crowd asked disbelievingly.

“This is now common knowledge in the entire cultivation world. It’s not my fault no one cared to inform the people in this backwatered village!”

The youth snorted and shot back “How much of this story is fabricated? Unless you can provide proof that you were there yourself, I don’t see much of a point in listening to your fairy tales.”

The crowd let out murmurs of agreement. The rogue cultivator felt a tick mark growing on his forehead. He grabbed an item that was wrapped in layers of talismans from his pocket and slammed it on the table in front of the youth.

“Here’s your proof! The jade token that was once tied to Chenqing!” The youth picked up the token and examined it. The item exuded an absurd amount of yin energy that could only belong to something powerful.

“It certainly appears authentic.” He commented. The cultivator snatched back the token from the young man’s hands.

“Bah! What would you know?” He grumbled as a he re-wrapped the item and put it back in his pocket. The youth shot him an unimpressed look.

“You mentioned that you and your fellow cultivators were looking for the Patriarch’s weakness. Did you find it?” The youth asked blithely. The rogue cultivator gnashed his teeth.

“No. The Yiling Laozu is far too cunning.” He faced the crowd once more.

“While normal ghosts can be dissipated in numerous ways or sealed with a spirit-trapping pouch, beings like Wei Wuxian can only be destroyed through the destruction of their ashes.”

“Didn’t you mention he had a vial of ashes wrapped around his neck? Why were you looking for them in the Mounds?” A member of the crowd asked, confused.

“I’m getting there!” The rogue snapped before continuing “We looked for clues on where would Wei Wuxian go to for refuge. Through our findings we found many similar looking vials and took the chance that maybe his was among them. When we started destroying every vial we could see, we realized these ashes belonged to other ghosts. The truly horrifying part? After we captured a stray soul and demanded information, it was revealed that they willingly sacrificed themselves for the Patriarch. He did not even have to use his flute on them!” The cultivator shook his head in disbelief before continuing. “Somehow, this Wei Wuxian won the ghosts' loyalty after the destruction of his mortal body. They even called him ‘our lord’!”

“Perhaps he’s building a city for the dead as we speak.” One member mumbled. Almost everyone in the tavern let out shudders at that possibility. The only ones who weren’t affected was the story-teller and the youth. The rogue cultivator snorts.

“Now who’s telling fairy tales?” He took on a severe countenance.

“If the Yiling Laozu decided to create a ghost realm, the amount of resentful energy needed would attract the attention of every single cultivator within a thousand miles. Don’t you get it, you fools? He’s in hiding! Right now, he has likely suppressed the majority of his powers to such a degree that it would take a strong spiritual weapon to detect him.”

“Do you mean that finding the Patriarch is a hopeless endeavour?” The youth drawled out in a bored manner.

“Not quiet. Remember the ghost-flies? Normal fireflies only come out in the summer. Yet, no matter the season, these creatures follow him wherever he goes. We merely have to wait for news on them.” The rogue cultivator concluded.

“How sad that the entirety of the cultivation world has to rely on mere rumours and heresy to catch one measly ghost.” The youth remarked, casually.

“Well, do you have any better ideas?!” The rogue cultivator shouted. “If you don’t, then get out of my sight! You disrespectful wretch!”

The youth shrugged and got up. He brushed past the ill-tempered cultivator and smirked in secret as he exited the tavern. Once the ‘young man’ was a fair distance away, he pulled out the token that he snatched from the arrogant cultivator. A silver butterfly landed on the item. Hua Cheng waited as the creature scented the yin signature and watched as it took off in search of the source. He continued his leisurely walk.

Wei Wuxian. He thought. What an interesting character you are.

Author's Note: Lycoris radiata is the botanical name for red spider lily. The flower is typically associated with death, long journeys, sad memories and final goodbyes. Interestingly, the colour red usually means love and passion.

I'll try and post the rest of this fic one chapter per-week until I eventually run out. Hope ya enjoyed it!

[gunpowderraven]

critical role: by someone that hasn’t seen any of it

hi so we recently got into dimension 20 and our friends have been tugging us towards critical role for a very long time at this point but we still haven’t watched any of it nor do we know all that much about anything that actually happens in it. however we do intend to actually start watching soon so we decided it was the perfect opportunity to make one of those ‘all the things i know about this thing i haven’t watched’ posts, show it to our critrole friends, and then actually get into critrole and be able to look back and laugh about it later

also the images are all sourced via friend so this is all one hundred percent no wiki no google knowledge, just from tumblr and discord convos and stuff. and some cast compilation videos that were very funny

update: we are now watching cr3! liveblog tag for silly lb -> #cr3 lb

vox machina

from left to right:

- i have literally no idea who the two halflings are. i’ve never seen them before in my life. what. uh. paladin and bard? im literally just guessing. who plays these characters. what

- grog? grug? this is travis’ pc maybe. also hypothesizing hes a half-orc barbarian or something similar? ive seen like one clip of him

- percival frederick von something something de rolo i think there’s a iii in his name as well, his name is long and very german but he does not have a german accent. or a french one. at separate times i have thought this character was german and french and then i heard him talk and was like. What. anyway i know he’s taliesin’s pc and he invented guns and is also possessed sometimes by big bird demon, and he has a nifty plague doctor mask. also tragic backstory. his entire family is dead i think. no mercy percy! he has a thing with vex? also his hair did a wilbur. the gay people on tumblr love this twink. i also think i love this twink

- vax’ildan! i think i may have actually spelled that right! half-elf? vex is his twin? and he’s... liam’s pc i think. yeah that’s it. he gives me angsty boy energy tho. not as much as percy but this boy has seen some shit. also he might be a rogue or a ranger who even knows. he looks like gay jon snow

- vex’ahlia which i definitely didn’t spell right. i think the next one is marisha’s pc so this one is... uh... laura? i think she’s the ranger actually. i think she has a bear. not like a gay bear like an actual animal bear. though it could be gay too i dunno. she has a think with percy. or everyone wants her to have a thing with percy. i genuinely can’t tell. anyway get that traumatized twink girl

- keyleth... marisha’s pc. some kind of spellcaster? maybe sorcerer? wild magic? she Also has a thing with percy maybe. or vex. or both. who even knows. everyone wants that twink. one time she threw herself off a cliff and turned into a goldfish and almost died and it was hilarious

anything else i know about this:

- there are evil bitches called the briarwoods and they might be vampires

- this is the one that got a tv show and might have also been the first critrole campaign idek

- d. ragons? chromia something. dragons. i hope i haven’t been lied to about the dragons. i hope there are actually dragons in this. there’s like a chromium something with dragon symbols tho

mighty nein

from left to right:

- mollymauk! ...tealeaf? another taliesin pc. the trans people like this one. i don’t know what their pronouns are. but theyre slaying every time i see them at any time. no idea what class but maybe a spellcaster?

- ...beau? i know her exclusively through lesbian ship art so i know her name is beau something bc that’s the ship names but i don’t know if that’s short for something. monk? no clue. also no clue who plays her either. maybe marisha?

- i have seen this character but i do not know their name. or anything else about them

- oh this is the sad wizard boy caleb widogast. he’s gay for essek thelyss (or something. i didnt spell that right) who is a npc i think. yeah. sad wizard. every time i see him he’s just being a wizard and sad. the gays love him too but he’s more of a distraught otter than a sad twink. maybe he and percy should start a club tho. also i think he’s played by liam

- i KNOW this character’s name i think it starts with s but i can’t remember for the life of me. scriv? scrat? no thats the rat from ice age. possibly a menace? i think im getting them mixed up with someone else. they look cool as hell though

- jester!! laura pc i think perhaps. i want to get drunk with her and tell her about all of my problems. yeah. i dont know anything about her actually. beaujester exists tho i know that

- YASHA. CRUSH ME HOLY FUCK. sorry im normal ? her voice makes me a little crazy insane. ive seen a few clips of her. mostly gay shit with beau. uh she’s played by ashley and she could kick my ass very easily

oh my god there’s another photo

- i think there’s only one character different here and it’s caduceus clay fun fact i hated this mfer for really dumb shitty personal reasons for a while before deciding it was very stupid to blame a fictional character for interpersonal drama and now im fine with him. wait does mollymauk die or something. wait a second. no, wait, fuck—

- ALSO WHO’S THAT FUCKER IN THE BACKGROUND I JUST NOTICED THAT

anything else i know about this:

- yeah i got nothing. no idea about the lore or the plot or anything bc i pretty much exclusively see gay ship art of these pcs. love wins i support it

bells hells

from left to right, one more time:

- look my brain is just saying gertrude from dungeons & drag queens but obviously that’s incorrect. so i don’t know who this is

- or this! but she looks very pretty and i love the little... monkey... bird? pls tell me these two characters have some kind of wild opposites dynamic they look like they do

- LITTLE ROBOT GUY . fcg? fgc? i think it was the first one. uh. liam pc? ?????? i think he gets bitches

- orym...? i know one of these characters is named orym. and i think it’s this one. i also see gay fanart of him

- i don’t know who the guy underneath him is

- or the lady with the purple hair god i really don’t know shit about this campaign sorry

- ashton greymoore, taliesin pc, my friend luna loves this guy, he’s. rocks? he’s rocks. groovy.

- someone in this campaign is named like dorian or something and im guessing its this one bc idk who they are either

anything else i know about this:

- flying.......... ship?

- this is the ongoing one i think

thank you for coming to my ted talk, i can’t wait to look back at this in a few months and laugh my ass off. hope u enjoyed this mess

[roxyteal]

(Jesus Christ it happened again. Mobile decided to not only publish the draft but also not save any of my edits. Pardon me if you see any appear) (Oct 30: Put context about his sobriety in the beginning, as opposed to in the middle out of nowhere.)

Today I am compelled to talk about Joe 5. It may include things I already mentioned in a different post, but those were in the tags so if any of this seems like not new info, sorry about that.

ANYWAY

Joe 5. Also this gets long so bear with me.

Joe 5 (but you can use either Joe or 5) came from a complete set copy of "Joe`s basics joke game". He was relatively fine as a person, with highs and lows. He's a bit of a snark but it's usually lighthearted. He even realized he had a problem and got clean, though... Alcohol still kinda haunts him as a result.

At some point, he and his entourage found the Webspace. On that day, they were among two others - a copy of Denied's Basics (the 10th apparently), and the 82nd Dave, who was a rogue for some reason.

Things were alright until it was mentioned that there was a pre-existing Joe and company around, and whether or not they'd like to merge with him, and so on. 5 thought that was weird as Hell and said no. But his companions said yes.

This resulted in 5 distancing from them since they're "not my friends anymore", and "I don't even know them anymore". And from then on, he resented the idea of merging, and that damned "Joe 1" for being so Goddamn happy. What's he all smiley about, he thought. The fucker.

But at least he still had his school. His empty, ghost town of a school. He quickly realized he couldn't live alone in that so he started staying in a tiny apartment, which quickly became a mess because of his plummeting self-worth. If only he'd just gone with everyone else, this could've been avoided, he also thought. It's his punishment for going against the grain. Being different. Maybe even "defective". Well shit, let's be defective. Why not.

He would have his code and model changed so that his hair would grow naturally. Somewhere in his reasons for this was needing to feel responsible for something, so he wouldn't completely fall apart. And maybe having it would make him feel better, whether about himself, in general, or both. He recalled that he considered asking his player about it in the past, but never got the nerve. Better late than never, he tried to rationalize. That's what people say to forgive themselves, right?

But the shoulder-length he requested (and wavy to boot, he didn't realize he had that...) spiraled out of control and now reaches his waist. Of course he couldn't keep up the end of the deal he put upon himself. It really needs the trim, but he couldn't be assed to try, and it disgusts him. The only good thing was how it never tangled. Game magic shit or whatever. But regardless of that, he looked like a cryptid, and he felt like one too.

At this point, his only comforts was TV, eating, and sleeping. He didn't need to do the last two obviously, but it gave him something to do, a distraction. When he ate, he could focus on the taste and nothing else. When he slept, he would stop being able to drown in his thoughts, welcomed instead into nothingness. When he watched TV, it numbed him enough to stop caring.

But even in his lowest moments, he refused to give in to his old addiction of... That. Diving back into it would truly mean the end had come. He'd rather be tortured to the brink before he had a sip again. Even now. Especially now.

He rarely ever left the apartment, kept the lights off, curtains to the balcony closed, and didn't allow visitors. He rarely ever left his bed, in fact. Sometimes he'd lie there and daydream about leaving. To where? Who knows. But this place was so painful to live in because everyone else has it great and he's got nothing so it's like... Just leave. But where?

He'd ponder it. Maybe just go out that tunnel and see where the Internet busses take him. Leave it up to fate. Maybe he'll find a nice little NeoCities domain. That whole area's so fuckin' large, there had to be a place where even 5, a worthless piece of shit, could fit right in! Yeah...

But he never gets out of bed. Out of the apartment. To the entrance tunnel. To the bus stop. To NeoCities. He just lies there, thinking about it. And nothing happens.

One day, he realized he was running out of food. The only reason he'd ever leave his trash heap of an apartment. By this point it was a matter of looking presentable enough to go out into that bright, colorful, vapid world crafted by that... Uh, mask man, and his spooky associates. Or keep staring at the dump that is 5's living space and contemplate if he could live without the sensation of eating. He still had his two other trusty vices, is it okay to lose one?

But, fuck. He loved the instant noodles. The frozen meals. The rice cups he could drizzle a little soy onto. And all the other kinds of convenient, packaged stuff. Goddammit.

So, he stepped around the trash, and next he knew, he was out the door. Fine. Fine. Fine! He'll get so much, he'll never have to come out again!

But as soon as he was outside the building, hair almost encasing his torso like a shroud, something shifted. Today's the day he's going to leave. Yeah. He'll get this done, pack up, make a pitstop to Vincent's or whatever pretentious name that supernatural son of a bitch had, flip off the gaudy building, then head straight for the tunnel. If he had time, he might even egg that fucking place!

This is it! God, it'd been so long since he was excited. Genuinely excited. He wanted to hold onto this forever.

Mood improved, he carried on with his mission. He ignored the other shoppers, checking off everything he picked up from his list. It was one of his first lessons here, because how could anyone remember everything they needed? He sure couldn't.

Things were going fine, until... He bumps into someone. Baldina. And she single-handedly became the craziest thing to happen to him.

He barely recalled the conversation, but it led to her hiring him as an assistant at her school, despite his clear lack of qualifications. It seemed that like Mr. Strobe-bow-skis, she too had plenty of people under her thumb, in numerous positions. A whole network of them.

One of which, 5 got to meet while struggling pitifully with the coffee machine, just seconds away from having a breakdown right then and there. This guy called himself, er, "I'm never"? But one word. Okay sure whatever. And in spite of 5's threatening tones and verbiage, Imnever was patient enough to show him how to use the brewer. Even informed him of how Baldina takes her coffee.

So what's Imnever's story? Oh, he teaches art here. He's more of an animator by trade, but this suited him just fine. Huh. Well, still more impressive than anything 5's ever accomplished.

The three of them became friends. He wasn't sure how that was possible, but finally he had a reason to go outside more often, instead of stewing in his own suffering for weeks at a time. In fact, slowly that poor excuse of an apartment turned into something a little more decent. It wasn't super tidy, but if Imnever, Baldina, or both wanted to visit, finally 5 could and would allow it.

It got to a point where, one morning, they surprised him with a present. A motorcycle. Apparently the two had taken his daydreaming musings seriously, about how cool it would be to have one. Also, 5 had forgotten what day it was - his birthday.

He cried. He couldn't possibly accept this. He didn't know how to ride it. He'd ruin it or hurt someone. All the classic, self-depreciating excuses he was told he was using.

But, as Imnever said, what you don't know, you fear. Once you do, you don't. Frankly that sounded confusing, and yet, these types of phrases helped him get this far, so... Just accept the damn thing.

The helmet was really cool, but he had so much hair that it wouldn't be able to fit. At long last, he got the trim he had desperately needed; up to just below the shoulders. But Baldina did it for him. Almost ironic, but at this point, who cares?

He forgot how light his head felt after the excess was cut down. It was a nice feeling.

Once he actually tried to overcome that fear of failure and took the chance to learn something, he was surprisingly quick on the uptake. And before long, he was zooming down streets in that badass chopper of his.

Maybe the Webspace isn't actually so horrible. But, thinking that, he reminisced about that day, where he was so sure he was gonna leave this domain behind and start over somewhere else. He slowed to a stop in front of Infinite School or something like that. Hm...

And he gave that treacherous high-rise building the bird, laughing manically as he drove onward. Of course he was going to stick around nowadays, but it still felt right to do. And boy was it worth it.

Life here had finally looked up for 5. Until, well... The demon showed up. But that's a whole other fuckin' story.