#part two of a writing prompt

[shady-tavern]

Part 2 of this short story.

You magicked some blood splatters away after teleporting home, stretching your fingers until they cracked in dark satisfaction. You were getting closer and closer to figuring out just where the Brotherhood had its headquarters.

To your dismay, you had to realize that this infernal organization had grown very, very big. Big enough to have kings and queens on their side, being supported by other royalty and even a thieves guild you had done business with in the past. And here you had thought their leader was one of the smart ones.

A brief glance into the kitchen showed that Melina was working on an advanced healing salve. She looked incredibly focused and one of your constructs was lingering nearby, ready to be of aid should she need it. The girl had things well in hand, however and you couldn’t help but feel that warm curl of pride filling your chest.

You had never thought that having a student was like this. You yourself had probably been more trouble than you were worth growing up and you knew your former teachers were all collectively horrified by what you had done, both to yourself in order to become a lich-mage and everything afterwards.

You ducked out of the kitchen without disturbing Melina, closing the door quietly. She’d be done soon, you had come back just in time to avoid worrying her. The skulls you passed by were silent and empty, devoid of a certain ghost’s presence. You had no idea where Mortimer was, but sometimes he just seemed to be…somewhere, doing whatever ghosts did.

You entered a separate study room on the ground floor, one you had repurposed for the task of keeping track of the Brotherhood. You marked off another camp of theirs you had left in ruin and set down the stack of papers you had liberated. Sadly, those guys had been small fry, but at least you had another name of a high ranking member now. Soon you’d have enough information to take them all down.

It was tedious but necessary work if you wanted to root this organization out root and stem. Such nastiness was not allowed to come back while you weren’t looking. Melina’s life would never be threatened by the likes of them again.

A crackle along your wards made you pause in surprise. A visitor? And one so brazen as well. Ah, there was only one person who walked into your home fearlessly. Or rather, two, now that you had Melina living here.

You stepped out of the study just as the front door got thrown open and Priscilla swept inside in all her powerful sunshine glory. She easily could have become a lich-mage herself, but she had the unfortunate habit of taking deep breaths and making rational decisions. Most of the times at least.

Priscilla had taken you under her wing when the two of you had been students and she had remained a steadfast, loyal, annoying and kind friend over all those years. The world would shatter before you would not aid her should she ever need or want your help.

She had been there the day you had become a lich-mage and had stood guard over your prone body for twenty days and nights. Forgoing sleep and food, she had kept herself awake and standing with magic alone, willing to drain herself down to her last dredges to defend you. 

She had also woken you with incessant poking and a lot of cackling laughter when you had flopped around like a wriggly fish, having to regain control of your body. The moment you were reasonably stable on your feet, she had promptly passed out.

"Oh, you’re home, how lovely. How are you?," she asked cheerfully, forgoing any sort of greeting, but her smile did not reach her eyes.

The way she asked made you narrow your eyes at her. The upside to knowing each other since being eleven was that you were aware of all her tells and habits. And right now she was burning to ask you something and yet, for some reason, held back for the moment. 

It must be important if she had come to visit. The two of you saw each other often enough, but since you both weren’t tied to the whims of time, months or even a year could pass until one checked up on the other.

"I am pleasantly well, I suppose," you answered, still eyeing her. She looked as well as ever, dressed in shimmering finery and jewelry.

"So you haven’t been burning things and people down left and right," she remarked offhandedly.

"How did you find out?" You hadn’t been subtle in the least, but it was surprising that she had noticed. You had once razed an entire warrior clan to the ground and she hadn’t known until you had told her about it over a cup of tea. 

Similarly, Priscilla had once gone hunting a dangerous order that tried to crack the world open like an egg and free some kind of ancient god or evil or whatever without you being aware of it. Which you had learned over that same cup of tea.

You waved her into your study, gesturing at the table with the large map and the research strewn about. "I’m hunting down the Brotherhood."

"Yes, I could gather as much," she said and you tipped your head as you watched her skim over your notes. You knew that glint in her eyes.

"Did they piss you off as well?" you asked and she hummed softly in agreement.

"They tried to recruit me yesterday, did you know?" she asked and it was a purely rhetoric question, since you did not know and you both were aware of that fact. If you had known she had spoken with these cretins you would have kicked down her door at the ass-crack of dawn. "They said there was a lich-mage they might have to take down to get at a cursed child."

At her words, any kind of easygoing mood evaporated immediately. You felt your magic curl up, an unspoken threat, not for Priscilla, because she’d never do anything to harm you, but to the monsters out there. Monsters wearing human skin and convincing people that there were terrible, cursed, awful children that needed slaughtering.

They were not going to touch your student, no matter what. You would burn the world to the ground before that happened.

"I may have used a teeny-tiny bit of a truth serum, entirely unintentional of course. Followed by an absolutely accidental stasis spell," she added and you felt your magic settle again as dark amusement found you. "The fellow is still in my cellar, by the way, in case you want to interrogate him as well."

You couldn’t help but chuckle. "You are my favorite for a reason."

She snorted. "I’m your favorite because I snuck out with you when we were thirteen and let you stand on my shoulders in a stinking bog, all to help you collect the nastiest sap I have ever seen in my damn life."

Now you did laugh. "Yes, so you keep reminding me. And thank you, I would love to speak with your guest."

"Just don’t leave any trace behind once you kill him," she said, leaning back against a small table. "I don’t need those fanatics knocking on my door again." Her gaze briefly slid over the map and settled on you. "What did they do?"

It was a fair question. For all your power, you didn’t often bother to go to such lengths when someone angered you. The people you interacted with generally knew not to fuck with you and if they didn’t, they were swiftly and easily taught otherwise. You had more important things to do than topple monarchies every other year or wade through the underbelly of a city to take care of something. 

You were powerful enough that people did not, generally, make an enemy of you. Besides, many desired your aid and wanted you and your power at their fingertips. There was only a tiny handful of mages even willing to perform the sort of spells you liked to play with.

You just had no idea how to tell her you had a student. The last time the two of you had spoken about such things, you had both snorted derisively at the poor fools who burdened themselves in such a way.

Well. You had never shied away from a challenge. You opened your mouth, about to answer, when a knock at the door made the two of you pause. Melina poked her head in after a moment, her excited smile slipping into a hesitant, questioning expression.

Right, she hadn’t met many people since she had come to live with you. You certainly hadn’t introduced her to any other mages, since most of them were annoyances anyway.

"Melina, meet Priscilla," you said, gesturing at your dearest friend. Who was simultaneously also the only person alive who’d mock you without hesitation if you were being an idiot. It was strangely reassuring sometimes. Though, you could do without her and Mortimer teaming up. "We’ve been friends since we were young."

"It’s nice to meet you," Priscilla said, sweeping into an elegant bow and Melina clumsily tried to curtsey back, a jar clutched in her hands.

"Let me see," you said and she quickly handed it over. It took a single glance to know she had brewed it perfectly. "Good work," you said.

Melina perked up, a smile appearing back onto her face. You were also glad to see her less wary around other people. She had used to hunch down, trying to become invisible through sheer force of will, when you had first visited a market together. 

"I’ll join you in a moment," you told her when handing the jar back, only realizing your voice had gone and done that soft and patient thing again when you finished speaking. "Please wait outside."

Melina nodded and quickly ducked away, closing the door again. When you turned back to Priscilla, she had her palms pressed together in front of her face and was squinting at you over her fingertips.

"I wasn’t gone so long that you went and conceived a child, right?" she asked with the sort of sceptic hesitancy that told you she was genuinely unsure. For just a brief moment you considered fucking with her, but you ended up rolling your eyes.

"We saw each other a year ago," you reminded her, but that only made her squint harder.

"You do a lot of questionable stuff," she said, a fact that had never bothered her. Priscilla had about as many morals as you did, which was to say, very little. "You still have that jar of strange flesh."

Ah, yes. You would not explain where you had gotten that. Or why it was still alive.

Then realization hit and her face brightened. A wide grin swept across her face and you resigned yourself to relentless, if kind, teasing. "Wait here!" she gasped and disappeared in a small shower of sunlight sparks.

Blinking, bewildered, you had no idea what that had been about. You were about to go and join Melina, when Priscilla reappeared. This time, she wasn’t alone. 

"Tada!" she exclaimed, gesturing grandly at a reed-thin girl, dressed in all black. The girl’s slim shoulders hunched up uncomfortably and she inched closer to your friend, hugging a book anxiously against her chest. "Meet Caitlin!"

"Hello, Caitlin," you said, offering a polite bow of your own. The girl hesitantly returned it. "Welcome to my home."

"She and Melina should meet," Priscilla said. "Remember when our teachers introduced us?"

You mostly remembered years of mayhem and giggling in hiding spots and lying for each other and helping each other. And a pet toad that had died an unfortunate death and you had held Priscilla as she had cried.

"Of course," you said. Actually, this wasn’t a bad idea. If the girls got along, Melina would have a friend. You had worried a bit about that recently. It wasn’t healthy to be cooped up inside so much, even if the girl accompanied you to the nearby town to buy supplies.

You motioned for them to follow you and you found Melina waiting in the hallway, fiddling with her jar. She looked up and paused when she saw who followed you.

"Melina, meet Caitlin," you said, gesturing at the girl who still tried to do her best to either turn invisible or somehow fold herself into a tiny shape. Though now she seemed hesitantly curious as well. "Why don’t you show her around a bit?"

"Alright," Melina said and Caitlin stepped away from Priscilla, glancing back once worriedly. Priscilla smiled encouragingly and calmingly, shooing her onward with silent gestures.

You heard the girls starting to talk as they disappeared around the corner. Slowly and cautiously at first and then with a bit more confidence. Priscilla nudged you.

"So, you got a student, huh?" she said with a grin and you cast her an unimpressed side-glance.

"Pot, meet kettle." She laughed at your words and briefly bumped your shoulders together, before noticing your curious look and growing solemn.

"I found Caitlin in a ditch," she said quietly after a moment and you saw dark anger burn in her eyes. "Her parents were the sort to think magic was nothing but evil temptation and they decided to get rid of her."

Those parents were no longer alive, you were willing to bet your eyes and tongue on that.

"I did find out where the Brotherhood’s headquarters are," she said suddenly and you felt yourself turn still and dangerous, a side effect of becoming a lich. A very wanted and welcome side effect at that. "We could go check it out once we’re sure the girls get along."

You tipped your head in agreement and after some looking around, you found the girls in the gardens. It was a warm, sunny day and you saw that Caitlin no longer clutched her book as tightly and was smiling hesitantly at something Melina said.

Mortimer had shown up as well in the meantime, since you could see the purple glow filling the eye sockets of a nearby skull. The skull you kept outside for whenever he wanted to look at the gardens. When you glanced at him, the skull dipped the slightest bit in answer, the glow darkening in a way that promised he’d look after the girls. 

No teasing today, not when you could already feel hot blood dripping off of your fingertips. You’d never tell him, but Mortimer really was the best housemate. Even if he sometimes got on your very last nerve.

Melina was talking animatedly, something that had taken her a while to do around you. She had been so careful for so long. Afraid even, at first. You found something soft and happy unfurling within you, almost like weightless wings, whenever you saw her happy. Whenever she could simply be herself, healthy and at ease, knowing she was safe.

A glance at Priscilla revealed a soft expression on her face, a small smile gracing her lips. You had no idea what your own face looked like, but you were certain some of your emotions showed. Especially since there was no reason to hide anything around your dearest friend.

The two of you watched the girls a moment longer to ensure they’d be comfortable in each other’s presence for a while longer. When Caitlin made Melina giggle, both of them examining poisonous plants, you saw the first bloom of a beautiful friendship right there. You nodded at Priscilla and she smiled, bright and cheerful.

"They’re going to be menaces when they’re grown up," your friend said with great satisfaction as you stepped back inside.

You couldn’t help but laugh. "If they’re raised by us, they better be."

This, you decided, would be your greatest legacy. Not your spells and magic nor how you had given up your mortal body, letting ancient, dark magic change it forever. No, your greatest legacy would be helping Melina grow into a competent, confident woman who had the power to make the world tremble at her fingertips.

And, well, you had no intentions of dying anytime soon. If anyone gave her any trouble, you’d gladly offer your aid to squash those fools.

"The Brotherhood is after Melina, isn’t it? That’s why you’re on a rampage," Priscilla said and you hummed in a low tone in agreement. Priscilla looked at you and you saw her magic start to glow beneath her skin as though her veins suddenly filled with light. "Want to destroy them together?"

When you grinned, you knew it was the sort of teeth-baring, awful smile that had sent your old teachers skittering back frightfully when you had seen them last. "With pleasure."

[the-witchhunter]

DP x DC: Ghost x Family

So, back on my cute romcom BS

So the premise. Dani, as Danny's speed grown clone, wasn't the most physically stable. Turns out, it's really hard to speed grow a clone, and even harder when ectoplasm is involved. There's not enough time for the structures to properly stabilize and that leaves the cellular structure pretty weak and prone to breaking down into goo. The ecto dejecto was just a temporary solution and other measures were needed

aka Dani had to essentially grow a body from scratch the old fashion way, so she's now physically her actual age minus a couple months

So Danny, at the age of 20, is the father of a 4 year old Dani and is trying to keep a low profile in Gotham. His and his daughter's existence is still illegal, and being the single father of a 4 year old ghost girl isn't exactly easy. Now Danny has to deal with the very real threat of CPS being called on him by a neighbor, and trying to get Dani into school without either of them having papers for their assumed identity of Danny and Dani Nightingale and money to by fake documents. He'd ask Tucker, but that requires braking radio silence and potentially putting a target on all three of their backs.

Danny, desperate, asks his neighbor Jason to pose as his significant other for a meeting. Jason agrees, but things escalated and frankly he's now emotionally invested and committing to the bit

So now he and Danny have legally been married for about 4 months according to the papers Babs made them. The fake ID, birth certificates, SSNs, and high school diploma for the Nightingales were simple enough for her to do, but man Jason is going to owe her a BIG favor for this.

They move in together, Dani goes to a good private school, Jason is effectively Danny's sugar daddy paying for a sizable chunk of all this, and they are committing to the loving married couple bit, which is hard to do when the new in-laws are detectives

The best part?

Danny has not figured out Jason is the Red Hood, and Jason doesn't know about the ghost stuff. The only one that does? Dani, and she is physically and mentally 4 and watching Jason and Danny fall in love

oh the shenanigans

OR

I've been watching SPY x FAMILY and just need the fake relationship/family turns into a real relationship/found family dynamic. Jason is basically Loid, Danny is pretty much Yor, Dani fills the role of Anya, and uncle Dick is Yuri, except he's doting on Dani.

Dick is a smart man, but I love the headcanon that Jason is his emotional blindspot. Jason? MY Littlewing? He couldn't possibly.

[metalotaku-da]

Dick and wally were sitting at the wayne family dinner table with their joint families announcing their engagement. Just before desert their was a knock on the front door. Alfred went to tend to it. Nobody thought anything of it till Alfred came back to dinning room with a large meta with him and two scruffed young kids hanging from his hands.

"I believe you have a guest master dick, master wally." Alfred said looking at the red head with a bit of judgment.

"You." The large meta with a goatee and flaming seemingly flaming hair. Motioned to wally with one of the kids who protested. "Well shit you are all here." He looked around the table. "Good I only need to do this once then hopefully. Quit fucking with the time stream." He ignored the throat clearing of the butler and the half raised from the seat posture of most of the dinners guests. "I'm tired of cleaning up all these timeline collapses you speedsters cause. So here is the deal." He sat the protesting kids down in to wally's lap. By phasing through the table. "I'm going to pull all your kids who would cease to exist from the now failed timelines and drop them all in your laps. And I don't care how many it ends up being. You want to cause me problems. You're getting all of yours 10 fold." As he backed out of the table. He pointed an accusing finger at the speedsters. "Do not try me! Oh and By the way. Congratulations on your engagement." He gave a rough pat to alfreds back. "Thanks old man." And then he vanished from sight.

The bats stared at the speedsters. "Care to explain that?"

"Who was that guy?"

"OH my god I'm a dad!" Wally said in shock looking down at his two kids. Ignoring Barry arguing with half the bat clan.

"What are your names?" Dick said all smiles at the two little kids sitting in wallys lap.

"Jai"

"Iris"

[sleepy-writes-stuff]

DP X DC PROMPT #25

(#) = Notes at the end of post

(*) = Just me building off of other ideas.

✦

Family Reunion

Clockwork sends an adult Danny, newly appointed Ancient of Space, on a mission through time again. Except this time, it isn't located on Earth, but a distant planet he's never even heard of before. Clockwork didn't tell him any specifics on what he was supposed to do or when he was supposed to return to his own time, just to blend in and have an experience. He would know when it was time to return.

Needless to say, he has a blast! His core is bursting with happiness at getting the chance to explore this unknown corner of the universe with a sky full of constellations he's never seen and fascinating locals. Considering he might be here a while, he buckles down and learns all about their culture and their traditions and even eventually learns their language without having to use the two-way translator Clockwork gave him.

He spends decades there, not even having to worry about how he never appears to age, the people here being incredibly long-lived. However, he eventually meets someone. Someone he falls head over heels for. He gets married. He has kids. He watches them slowly grow into adults as well. It isn't until one of his sons informs him that he's expecting his own child(1) that Danny feels a tug at his core.

He ignores it, but over the course of a few weeks, it's gone from the occasional pull to a full-on yank at his entire being, along with a sense of dread that something was going to happen to this wonderful little planet. To his family.

He becomes restless and loses so much sleep, it's a miracle he can even stand. His family are worried for him, but he assures them that he's just feeling a little under the weather. One night, he's sat up in bed, unable to sleep again. His gaze is fixed lovingly on his spouse, but nonetheless sad.

He doesn't miss when all the soft sounds of the night stop and a green glow appears behind him.

"It's time to leave, isn't it?"

"Yes."

"There isn't any way I could stay? I can't bring them with me?"

"I'm afraid not. There are some things that can't be changed or stopped, even when they fall into your domain. I'm sorry."

"Why send me here just to make me abandon them like this? What was the point?"

Clockwork is silent, but when Danny turns to look at the ghost, he's gone.

Danny takes a few more precious days to spend time with his family. Kiss his spouse. Hug his kids. Feel the strong kicks of his grandchild he won't be there to witness the birth of.

The night he leaves, he places a letter on his spouse's nightstand, gently kisses their forehead, and disappears in a flash of green, never to be seen again.

Years later is when Danny gets the news. That the planet Krypton is no more and that his family is gone. He searched the Ghost Zone for them, but he never knew the location of Krypton in the cosmos. Their afterlife is beyond his reach, in a place that isn't even on the Infamap.

He nearly drowns himself in grief when he finds a sliver of reprieve in the form of a news broadcast. An extraordinary man in blue and red with the kryptonian symbol for such emblazoned on his chest is shown fighting off multiple enemies at once. He is the spitting image of his father and Danny as well.

He had a grandson. His grandson was alive.

✦

(1) This was Kara, not Clark. Danny left before he even found out about Kal-El being in the oven, so there will be a misunderstanding at first. Then Kara pops up later, and Danny just bawls his eyes out that he had two surviving grandchildren without even knowing it this whole time. How he first meets either of them is up to you!

(*) What this means power-wise for Clark is yours to decide. As well as what Clark already knows about his grandfather from the stored information his father left him. What his father thought of Danny disappearing without a word is also up for you to decide.

[celestialwrites]

╰┈➤ laying in bed with your lover, fluffy prompt list

☆ stolen morning kisses

☆ leaving a trail of rumpled sheets

☆ kissing your lovers neck while they shy away from your morning breath

☆ making suggestive dirty jokes

☆ trailing your fingers against their exposed back

☆ kissing them awake

☆ playing with their hands while you lay on their chest

☆ saying you’ll make breakfast in 5 minutes every 5 minutes but never moving from your position

☆ playing with their hair while they sleep on your chest

☆ stroking your lovers arm to wake them up

☆ confessing love in different languages so they don’t understand

☆ confessing love while they’re tired so they don’t remember

☆ holding them while they sleep talk

☆ placing shoulder kisses while they sleep

☆ giggling while they stir in their sleep

☆ laughing as your pet comes and sits with you guys in bed

☆ waking up to a burnt attempt at making breakfast from your lover, that you both laugh off

☆ making them brush their teeth before kissing you because of their morning breath

☆ waking up to your favourite drink order (they remembered<3)

☆ kissing them as a bribe to keep them in bed

@celestialwrites for more<3

[chaosduckies]

Congratulations on 100 Followers!!! Big achievement!!!!

Gonna take you up on your open commissions so I’d love to see your take on a tiny being forced to ask a giant for help.

Your choice of characters but I’m a sucker for hurt comfort so go wild ❤️

Congrats again!!!

Thank you! :D

I'm sorry that this took so long to get out! I was having a minor writing slump but I'm back at it! I did have a lot of fun writing this and I hope you do to! (classic borrower asking a human for help)

Word Count: 4.2k

CW: Minor blood

Snow Fall

———Forest———

Everything was going great. I set off on my own, leaving my parents behind and starting my new life. Of course I was scared. Who wouldn’t be when you were two inches tall and leaving everyone you know and love? It was terrifying, but I had to. Borrower children, even though some were some-what good at borrowing from humans, were supposed to leave their parents as soon as they turned fourteen since it was a liability for their parents. I was just lucky and extended my stay for 3 more years. What could I say? I loved my parents just as much as they loved me, and no matter how many times my mom pleaded for me to stay, I knew I wasn’t that good at borrowing. I would eventually get us all in trouble. Which was why I decided to find a new home when I turned seventeen. It didn’t sit right with me that I was still leeching off my parents. 

Humans were scary. The horror stories, the pets, the kids. Almost everything about them scared me half to death. Just thinking about getting caught in one of those huge hands has me shuddering. I couldn’t think about myself getting caught, or what would happen to me, and to be honest, leaving my parents was the worst decision of my life. 

I wasn’t a good borrower to say in the least. I could barely hurdle over the counters without somehow hurting myself or becoming so sore the next day that I could barely move, I wasn’t the best at hiding. I had no idea how my parents did this at such a young age, but I wasn’t like them at all. How did they end up with such a failure like me? I laughed at the thought. 

My new home was nice. The human here had a schedule that I could work around. They left for work every morning, giving me plenty of time to get a little bit of food that they leave out sometimes, get some other things, and head back. They weren’t very observant of anything in particular, perfect for grabbing a few extra paperclips since my hook usually breaks from my own misuse. This house was perfect… or so I thought. 

After a while, the person stopped laying out food everywhere, they had started packing up their things in huge boxes, people in strange uniforms came by and dragged out anything heavy. I had no idea what was going on, but it wasn’t good. I stayed hidden in my home in the walls, scared of what was happening. I was too scared to go out at night and get my daily necessities, like food and water. Humans were terrifying. If I was seen by even one of them, who knows what might happen? I didn’t care if I was so hungry that my stomach was digesting itself, there was no way I was going to get caught and placed in some weird science lab. Testing me everyday, killing me slowly. I shuddered at the thought, wrapping myself in the thin cloth I managed to snag before any of this moving was happening. 

Lately the seasons have been changing, and the human that I thought was still living here hasn’t bothered to turn on the heater. This only made things a million times worse for me. I was already hungry, practically starving from not having eaten anything for the past three days, and now it was freezing cold. There was nothing I could do about it though. I was terrified. Scared. Too paranoid about what would happen if I stepped outside the comforts of my dingy home in the walls. No matter how much I wanted to go back with my parents, I couldn’t. More because I barely even remember the way back home, but also because it was already dangerous enough getting to this new home. I had no choice but to stay here in hopes that I could get over this fear of being seen and that the human had left some kind of food out. But there was no such luck. The house was empty. Furniture moved, heater off, no sign of food in the cabinets. Just nothing. My hope diminished as I sluggishly walked back home in defeat. There was no way I was going to survive. 

The human that I found so easy to maneuver around without being seen, that left food out, was now gone. Who knew when another one would just move back in? Most days I would walk around out in the open because there was nothing to do. I mean, without a human there was no chance of me surviving. I was too afraid to go outside because I knew there were animals that wouldn’t hesitate to mistake me for food. So staying inside was really my only option. Plus, it was just the slightest bit warmer here than outside. 

Sometimes I’d go sit on the windowsill, stay there for hours watching these tiny white balls fall from the sky and cover the ground. People passed by wearing thick coats that protected them from the harsh cold, and I couldn’t help but feel jealous. I looked back at the thin piece of cloth wrapped around me, barely giving any warmth while humans were able to be so warm, get food without having to worry about anyone seeing them (or in my case get food at all), heck, they weren’t even scared of anything. 

I sat alone, in a quiet house just waiting for anything to happen. I didn’t care if it was good or bad. I didn’t know how I was surviving for so long, nor how I was still moving despite searching the top shelves and countertops desperately for something. But of course it was always the same way it was. Empty. Nothing was changing, but in a bad way. 

My legs were sore from the amount of climbing I’ve done the past few days, my body was getting even weaker than it already was. I guess I really was going to starve to death, huh? All of that talking with my parents about making sure I would have enough to last me and it’s just wasted. How was I supposed to know that only a week after I found a new livable home that the human I was just barely getting used to was going to move out? Life wasn’t fair. 

Today was yet another sad, depressing day. I dragged myself along the floor, trying to at least be active while I was struggling to survive. Would another human be coming here soon? As much as they scared me and borrowers alike, most relied on them to help us survive. When they’re clumsy and forget easily, it’s easy to “borrow” a few things here and there. They leave food out or there’s an easy way to get into a cabinet, we can take a few things they wouldn’t notice. It was almost impossible to live without relying on a human in some way. Ironic how the thing I fear the most was the thing that was keeping me alive. 

I hoisted myself up onto the windowsill, breathing heavily as soon as I was safely up. I groaned in pain, wrapping up my hook and sitting by the window, once again staring at the white scenery. Other houses just across that had a slight smoke coming from the top of their house. Must be warm… I rubbed my arms, watching as a few people walked by, possibly on their way to work. I shivered, regretting not taking my “blanket.” 

Life wasn’t fair. I knew that much, but I forced myself to stay alive for whatever reason. My figure was getting slimmer from the lack of food, but I somehow kept moving. It was cold, but I gathered up any cloth I could find and wrapped myself up at night. My hook looked like it could break at any point in time, but it was hanging on just like me. If my hook did break, then there was basically no way for me to get anywhere but home and on the floor. I hoped that something would happen one day, but nothing ever did. 

Out of the corner of my eye, I caught something gray scurry along the floor. I stared for a couple long seconds before shrugging it off and continuing to look out the window. It was probably just my imagination. Great, now I’m hallucinating. I sighed, watching as cars carefully passed by. 

I don’t know how long I stayed on top of the windowsill, but eventually there was a change of scenery. At first I thought it was just my mind playing tricks on me, but there it was. A car parked right in front of the house, headlights turning off and revealing a human, zipping up their jacket and looking down at something and back at the front of the house. I was too caught up in my fascination to realize that I was out in the open. The human slowly started making their way up to the front door, holding something that looked silver in their hands. 

I scrambled for my hook, climbing down as fast as I could, which was very painful. At some point I lost my grip and fell, but to my luck it was only a couple feet. I hurried to my feet, pulling my hook from the ledge it was dangling from and ran as fast as I could to reach the extremely tiny hole I squeezed myself through. I took a few seconds to catch my breath before the front door opened. My eyes were wide, my heart pounding fast. Would my luck finally be turning around? 

The human was taller than the last and looked much younger. I couldn’t really get a good look at their face, but I could make out his dirty-blonde hair. I could hear my own heartbeat. Is everything going to go back to normal? Would I be able to survive on my own again? 

The human moved around the place, shivering and pressing some buttons on something. Soon enough, the house was slowly but surely being warmed up. I let out a quiet sigh of relief. It might not be much… but at least it was something. Better than the frigid cold that had been filling the house for who knows how long. 

They moved around the house, checking everything out and smiling, their eyes a nice shade of light-brown. They looked… so nice. For a split second my mind wondered what would happen if he would ever see me. Would he keep me as a pet like I’m pretty sure most humans would? Or… nothing? No, why would I even be thinking about that? He would obviously want to hurt me even more than I already was. 

My stomach rumbled quietly, I winced, but confused to watch as they came from outside and back in, carrying a few boxes, bags and a small case that had wheels on it. Was I finally… saved? If this human was moving back in then I could actually have a chance to survive? I silently cheered to myself. How long has it been? Almost a week maybe? How did I even manage to stay alive? Didn’t matter anymore I guess. 

I continued to watch the human, putting up things in the boxes, setting up a few mini tables and placing picture frames of him and, who I was guessing, his parents. Of course occasionally taking breaks for a snack or two, leaving a plastic container filled with what looked like fresh fruit and vegetables. After most of the boxes were unpacked, a few still in their bedroom, he went back outside, most likely to fetch something else from his car. He usually took a while out there… so maybe it would be enough time to go and quickly grab something to eat? No, that was too risky. What if I was wrong and he came back early? I doubt I’d have enough time to find a hiding spot while out in the open since he didn’t exactly have any furniture or anything. 

I slumped, making my way back to my bland home in the walls. I had always tried to decorate… but since there hadn’t been anyone living here for me to “borrow” a few things from, I haven’t been able to decorate. Only the small bed I made by gathering up a bunch of cloth that the human before had forgotten about. It wasn’t extremely comfy, but better than anything I could’ve asked for. Otherwise, boring room. But it’s not like I need to decorate it anyways. Surviving was my main focus right now, and now that there was someone actually living here now… maybe I’d have a chance to get back into things. 

The wait was long, hearing the human talk to someone on what I think they call a phone, hang up, set up their house again and spend most of their time gathering up all of the blankets and pillows that he had brought with him and gathering them all up in what I think was going to be his room. As comfy as it looked, I knew I couldn’t just take a couple of minutes to get somewhat comfortable. Lately every night has been spent cold, hungry, filled with false hope. If I could just take a couple minutes to have some kind of sense of safety and security, that would be great. But I haven’t been able to, and I doubt that I’d be able to even now. I never realized just how hard it is to survive. Imagine what my parents went through while taking care of me… 

I hugged my blanket close, my eyelids threatening to close at any second. I heard the sound of the door open once again, and the loud sounds of him dragging something across the floor. It was all fine for me though. My eyes shut close, I laid down, and soon enough my mind drifted off. 

——————

When my eyes opened, there was a quiet noise of people talking outside. My heart had skipped a beat, thinking that there were more humans living here. That would make it impossible for someone like me to get past without being noticed, but as I groggily stepped outside, rubbing my eyes to wipe away the sleep, I realized that it was only the tv that wasn’t there a couple hours ago. 

I looked around the dark room, seeing that there was now a singular couch in what was the living room, a tv, a table that held two more frames. How long had I been sleeping? Or better yet, just how exhausted was I? Obviously the sun had already set, so I guess it didn’t really matter. I headed back to my room, grabbed my hook, and took off, every now and then finding a hiding spot just in case the human was somewhere I couldn’t see him. 

My head turned towards a dark shadow scamper right across from me, but I didn’t pay any mind. Probably just my imagination, right? Right now I was just trying to make sure that the human was asleep right now just before I go and see if he had any food out… or at least something edible in the cabinets. 

I checked the living room first, hiding by one of the legs under the couch, peaking my head out just enough to see him having trouble keeping his eyes open. Good enough for me. I ran quietly back to the kitchen, throwing my hook as far up as I could before testing if it was safely secure. I started my trek up, my arms and legs begging in me to go back down. Despite my arms threatening to tear off from the lack of strength. I really wasn’t good at borrowing. 

As soon as I reached the top of the counter, I took a few seconds to catch my breath. Once I get used to the human’s schedule I may finally be able to get back into things. No going hungry for that long, not worrying if I’ll make it to the end of the night. as soon as he turns on the heater things would be even better… I wouldn’t be shivering at night and struggle to find something that would act as a blanket. Yet another reason to be jewels of humans. They had everything borrowers didn’t. It wasn’t at all fair, but we all knew what would happen if a human found or saw us. The thought was pure torture to even think about. Literally. 

On the counter, there really wasn’t anything for me to see except for the half-eaten sandwich just lying on the counter. I silently walked over, not really wanting to eat part of the sandwich that they had already bitten into but I had to unless I wanted him to already be suspicious when it hasn’t even been a full day. 

I started cutting off pieces, making them fit inside my bag and taking a few more unnoticeable pieces for tomorrow, learning from past mistakes. As I was cutting, I realized that there was something off. The tv was still on in the other room, I figured that the human still hadn’t left the couch either, fighting off sleep. So why did it feel so off? I treaded carefully, watching every tiny movement that caught my eye. For a moment it was so quiet that I could hear my own heart pounding in my chest, and then too quiet. 

My eyes searched around, taking my final piece into my hands since no more would fit in my bag. I might as well grab as much as I could. Better than having nothing. I let out a sigh of relief, grateful that I wasn’t dead, that I’d at least have some kind of way to survive. Out of curiosity, I took a small bite out of the sandwich, only really getting the bread part but it tasted so good. To be honest, a sandwich was a definite score for borrowers, now when you’ve been starving for days on end, it tastes amazing. 

Two glasses hit each other behind me, I turned my head seeing them spin before returning to their still pose. My eyes widened, hurrying to my hook that was still hanging off the edge of the counter. I looked back, the light making it easier to see a rat chase me down, easily twice my size. I let out a yelp as I ran through several spice glasses in hopes of losing it, only to hear them all fall onto the counter with a loud thud! That was bad for two reasons, one because not only was it making a mess and trails that I’ve been here, and two, because I knew the human would want to come and investigate what was happening. Of course being the person that I am, I would never be able to run faster than this  surprisingly malicious rat. 

I struggled to keep up my balance, eventually tripping on thin air, dropping the small piece of sandwich a few feet away from me. I quickly rolled over, my chest heaving up and down as I faced the rat not even given a second before they scratched at my shirt. I winced, holding my stomach and seeing my hand covered in some blood. My breathing was getting more heavy as I saw a silhouette by the kitchen entrance. The lights turned on, blinding the rat for just a second as I quickly stood up and kept running towards my hook, holding my stomach. I knew what was happening, and there was no way I would be found the second a new human moves in, right? I blinked back the tears building up in my eyes, tripping once again. My vision was blurry from the tears, and judging by the small squeaks from the rat I thought was a good couple feet away, that meant that the human was here. 

Forcing myself to sit up, I looked at the bowl that kept moving. The rat screeching to be released from their prison. The human placed some heavy books on top, sighing to himself as he muttered something under his breath I couldn’t catch, but I didn’t really care. I scrambled back onto my feet, trying to run yet again and slammed into something soft and squishy. I winced as I fell and soon my entire world was moving again, the soft surface now everywhere. 

It settled in my mind slowly, realizing that I was in human hands. It hurt to breathe from my new wound, but I couldn’t help it. Tears streamed down my face as I struggled to muffle the sounds of my quiet cries. 

“Oh! U-um, I didn’t mean to…” Their voice sounded quiet and worried. I just continued crying, not even caring what would happen to me. Who was I kidding? I could never have survived on my own! I should’ve known when that first human moved out. Sure it was okay at first, but obviously them moving was a sign that I wasn’t meant to be on my own. I should’ve listened to my parents and stayed with them. This would’ve never happened, I would be alive and healthy instead of on the brink of death and in Death’s hands himself. Literally. Who knows what this human would do to me? It was scary to think about. 

“P-Please don’t h-hurt me.” I mumbled most likely too quiet for his ears to hear, leaning against what I think was his thumb. He flinched slightly, but why did it feel so… comfortable? 

“Aw little guy,” He smiled softly, “I’m not going to hurt you, okay?” I leaned into the warmth from his hands, hugging what was his thumb closely, still crying to myself. What else was I supposed to do? Of course I was scared but… I also just wanted someone to hold me. Right now I didn’t care that it was a human and I’d face my consequences later, I just wanted to be promised that I wouldn’t have to try so hard anymore. That I could just live without thinking about what I could manage to get for dinner. 

“You were just… hungry?” He asked as I picked my head up, seeing him looking straight at the piece I had dropped on the counter. I shakily nodded my head, hoping he would see. For now, I would just hide my fear. Right now this human was giving me everything I’ve wanted this past week. Comfort, warmth. Heck, I’m even crying in front of him. How embarrassing was that and he still hasn’t said or asked me anything. 

“Hm, here little guy.” He tried tilting me back onto the counter, but I grabbed onto his sleeve and hung on tighter. I didn’t want to be let go already. I know humans are bad and I’d face the consequences eventually, but right now I’d like to think that not all of them were as horrifying as the stories make them out to be. 

He softly laughed, cupping both hands around me again. I sniffled, “C-could you… h-help me? P-please.” I tried wiping away my tears, but they just kept coming. My eyes felt red and puffy, my legs felt like jello, heart racing. I was a mixture of emotions. Terrified, filled with hope, and most of all grateful that this human hadn’t decided to hurt me yet. 

The human studied me, worried. I stood still for a moment, hoping I would get my answer. It seemed ridiculous to be asking a human this. One that probably had no idea that they had saved me in the first place. My heart thumped in my chest, waiting in the eerie silence, awaiting my answer. My stomach still burnt from the deep gash, but I've had to go through worse. There was still some blood that was getting on the humans’ shirt sleeve, but that was the least of my worries. 

I felt something rub against my back, making me flinch, but lean into the gentle touch. Some part of me knew that this was wrong. Everything about this was wrong. I was sitting in a humans’ hand, talking to one, being seen by one. And for some reason, it all felt right. Everything felt right. That this was meant to happen. That it was alright for me to be vulnerable to this human. 

They started moving their hand as I continued to cry, pressing my face into the fabric of his shirt. When I opened my eyes, I found myself in a makeshift hug. I could hear his heartbeat in the background beating rhythmically, the slight rise and fall of his chest with every slow breath he took. I sniffled, shocked from the gesture but otherwise grateful. I wasn’t going to die. I was alive. I felt safe. There was no more suffering, no more false hope, no more anything. I would be fine. I smiled to myself, trying to wipe away the tears trailing down my face. 

I guess sometimes it’s okay to ask for help. 

——————

I hope you enjoyed! I don't know how to feel about this myself, but I think it's alright! Again, I had a lot of fun writing and thank you for the prompt!

Slowly getting out of my writing slump, hopefully get these prompts done plus something reallyyyy exciting (well at least it is to me)

Thank you for reading! :D

Taglist: @da3dm

[ginnyluna]

i've seen "valgrace with werewolf!Jason", and i've seen the "Leo with mechanical prosthetic arms/legs" headcanons

but what if... what if we did both

[ghostf1ux]

"What in the Saw Trap Bullshit??"

Day 2: Broken Glass

Word Count: 3.9k

TW/CWs: Graphic blood/injury, violence, general DC-ness, a bitch is a little handsy, Self Inflicted injury under duress(?)

Part 2

-------------------------------------------------------

Generally, serial killers were pretty interesting to Jason. Most of the time.

But right now, he just wanted to go home. Or at least have an easy patrol.

He had just finished dealing with an Arkham breakout yesterday (Bats had called him in for backup, but he was relegated to wrangling Harley since he got along the best with her so he got away with just some bruised ribs, nothing that wouldn't be healed in a day with the Pit's side effects) so they weren't due for any big criminal events for another day at least. He had already been up for two whole days trying to track this killer down before all that threw him off track.

He was close, too.

But, then again, this was Gotham. Crime didn't rest, and apparently neither did her crime fighters. 

And that meant the killer was in the wind. Again.

And no, he was not going to ask for help. He may be on much better terms with his family, but he could handle a serial killer with creative methods.

Patrol was being painfully normal, as far as normal went in Gotham. He was chasing down the lead on that killer he'd been working on for the past two weeks; people had been going missing, then showing up again the next day. Jason found all their bodies in various states of mangled and littered with injuries. There was no pattern to them, no consistency between them as far as injuries went.

Well, there was one: they were all drugged with a simple, fast-acting sedative prior to all their injuries. It showed the kidnapper knew what they were doing, and probably planned all their ‘nappings ahead of time. Technically two if you counted the… creative causes of death.

Which brings him to where he is now. He came across another body tucked into an alley in his territory, as had been consistent with the rest of the bodies. This one was relatively unharmed, apart from her head. A small pool of blood had formed around it, despite the fact that the body was clearly brought here long after she had died.

Jason grimaced as he gently turned the woman's head– or at least, what used to be her head– to the side so he could get a better look at what happened.

Her head was practically turned inside-out at the jaw, her whole head ripped nearly in half across the cheeks. And it was ripped, not surgically cut or even haphazardly sliced. Her head was torn to nearly a 180 degree angle, far past what a human jaw should be able to do. The only time he's ever seen a jaw dislocated this wide was when he watched some snake documentary with Damian. 

Safe to say, this was not nearly as cool as watching a snake swallow an entire fucking deer.

Getting a closer look at the inside of her mouth, he can see little, bloody scratches in the roof and base of her mouth right behind her teeth. Some of the teeth had been ripped out, but the cuts weren't shallow. Most likely they were made from the force of whatever caused her skull to be ripped backwards from her jaw. Like there was some sort of device fastened on her head and secured behind her teeth.

Her hands and clothes were also bloody, but it didn't stop at whatever dripped down from the head-mangling that killed her. There was blood smeared over her shirt and soaked into her ratty jeans, mostly soaked below the knees apart from where it looked like she tried to wipe her hands off on her thighs. Her arms themselves were covered in almost-dried, caked-on blood from fingertips to elbows.

Jason pauses on her hands, lifting one to examine it closer. Shoved underneath her cracked and torn nails was–

He glances around, now convinced he's missing another body. Because there's no way that this woman had potentially torn into someone's internal organs with her bare hands and that person had survived. (Trust him on this one.)

At least, that's what it was looking like to Jason.

You get shit like this stuck under your nails because you were scratching or tearing at something, or in this case, someone. The blood soaked into her jeans below her thighs was consistent with kneeling in an ever-growing pool of blood (once again, trust him, he would know), and the way she seemed to have been trying to wipe the blood off on herself meant she needed her hands to do something afterwards.

Something niggled in the back of Jason's mind. This was familiar, somehow. He can't place it, but he's seen something like this somewhere.

The back of his neck prickles uncomfortably, jolting him out of his train of thought. His senses focus back into the world around him.

There's a flash of pain on his neck he's too slow to stop, a chilling sensation following it into his bloodstream. He growls as he swings around, his fist connecting with a dark shape he can't immediately identify–

His vision wavers, body swaying with the effect of the drug. Even with his body's size and the Pit's effects, it effects him way too quickly–

His thoughts slow as he crumples to the ground. Distantly he recognizes that he should probably activate his emergency beacon, if his hands would actually cooperate with him. But they don't.

Instead, he watches as boots walk towards him, and a figure crouches before him. Their face is a dark blob. He hears muffled police sirens in the background before his eyes finally slip shut.

------------------------

When he comes to, it's… slow. Not quite painful, yet, but uncomfortable. Vaguely, he can feel a cold weight around his forearms and ankles. It makes him shiver.

Then he registers everything else. The ground is cold. Way too cold for what he should be feeling with his armor and helmet on. It's prickly, too. Shifting causes small sparks of pain (oh, there it is) across his shoulder, arm, chest, and cheek. 

(The parts of him that are on the ground, his brain so helpfully provides.)

He opens his eyes to a dingy, but somehow glimmering room and the sound of something crunching behind him. The electronic tint tells him his domino is still on, but beyond that, not much. The floor is covered in something that's sparkling in the buzzing light above him.

Glass.

Jason's laying on a floor covered in broken glass.

“Oh good, you're awake!” A cheerful voice sings. Vaguely feminine, Jason thinks. “You weren't out as long as I thought you'd be. But don't worry, we won't get started until you're fully awake. We wouldn't want you to be at a disadvantage, now would we?”

The person giggles, glass shifting right next to his head. Melodic humming fills the space, followed by fingers carding through his hair. Jason growls, willing his body to move but not getting anything more than a twitch of his fingers. His head is shifted off the glass and onto something soft– their lap. He (mentally) cringes at the contact.

They turn him so he's on his back, making him squint when faced with the bright lights. The ceiling isn't very high, but the worn concrete makes him think of some abandoned building. Maybe an office of some kind. There are bundles of wires running across the ceiling, but he can't see where they lead to at this angle.

“Hey, pretty birdie,” the woman teases, voice lilting flirtatiously. Her hands continue to twirl through his hair, brushing it out of his face. He snarls, trying to roll away. The relaxant is starting to wear off.

“Careful, you'll hurt yourself,” she chuckles. “Then again, you're no stranger to pain, are you, Robin?”

That makes Jason freeze. The woman laughs again, yanking Jason up by his hair until he's kneeling on the broken glass-covered ground. He still has his cargo pants from his Red Hood uniform on, which is nice, because those have knee and shin pads. He realizes when his knees hit something solid that there's something in front of him. It shifts away from him in the bed of glass. She leans over his shoulder to pull it back, making him shift his knees further apart so it can nestle between them.

“Do you know who I am, pretty bird?” She asks, trailing a finger over his collarbone. Jason finds he (somewhat surprisingly) has full control over his mouth, and manages to refrain from trying to bite her finger off despite how much he would love to feel the warmth of her vile blood filling his mouth and dripping down his lips, down his chin, down his neck, down down down–

“You're the one leaving bodies for me all over Crime Alley and the Bowery,” he mutters, pointedly ignoring her hand drifting over the scars on his chest in favor of lifting his head to  examine his surroundings with what little mobility he has. “Some of the more creative bodies I've seen, I'll give you that.”

“Well, I'm glad to see my handiwork hasn't been overlooked.” He can feel the smile on her face as she's practically hugging him from behind at this point, draped over him way too close for comfort. Doesn't help that he's not wearing a fucking shirt.

Speaking of shirts: a flash of red catching his eye makes him see that against the far edge of the room is a neat little pile of all his gear. Jacket on bottom (how dare she put his jacket in the glass), then his shirt, armor, gloves, weapons, and helmet. His boots are sitting next to the pile.

“Couldn't have hung the jacket up at least?” Jason quips sarcastically, looking over his shoulder at her. Her feather-light minstrations stop, and she sighs, tapping the center point of his autopsy scar with a gloved finger.

“That'll be the least of your worries soon enough.” She caresses the back of his head before pushing down, down, down into a basin of broken glass before him. He closes his eyes on instinct, feeling the jagged, razor-sharp edges digging into his skin and drawing blood. “You see, Robin, you died. For quite some time, in fact. I've done my research.”

Jason nearly scoffs, before thinking better of it given that his face is shoved in a fucking basin of glass.

“But then you came back. And that isn't supposed to happen. You aren't supposed to be here. None of them were.” Her voice turns dark, pushing his head further in. He's forced to inhale– and fuck does that hurt– but he keeps it controlled, for his own sake.

“Now, it's your turn to prove that Lady Death let you go willingly.” She rips him back up, shards of glass flying out of the basin. He takes a few solid breaths, cringing internally at the copper tang. “Somewhere in this basin is a key to your restraints. Somewhere in this room is a bomb. You'll hear it, but you won't see it. I'll set it for…”

She draws out the last word, tapping his chest in thought. He's starting to get really annoyed with her constant contact, but he can't exactly shake her off or savor her screams as he tears her apart with his bare hands. 

Anyways. He should probably keep listening to whatever bullshit she's spewing.

“Yeah, that'll do. A nice little mystery, something to keep you on your toes.” She grins, using his head as a leverage point to stand up. He watches as she brushes her hands off and skips– she was really way too happy about this whole situation for Jason's liking– over to the door, kicking glass all over his stuff. The bitch.

“Have fun, prettiest bird! I wouldn't recommend waiting on the rest of your flock, they have no idea you're here and you don't have any time to waste. Good luck!”

With that, the door slams behind her, locks, and the room is filled with beeping.

Jason blinks before immediately getting to work trying to twist around to see what's behind him, but it's no use. The chains linking him to the ground are maybe a foot and a half long, and he doesn't want to risk losing the literal key to his survival by kicking it too far away. 

He ignores the way glass digs into his feet– that's a problem for future Jason.

Other than what he's already seen and the ever-present beeping now filling the room and grating on his nerves, there's nothing else. Nothing he can use. Nothing that can help.

He groans, looking down at the basin. It's about two and a half feet in diameter, and about a foot deep.

A few shards of glass are already lodged in and around his mouth, just from the brief bit of time he spent with his face shoved in it. There's also glass in his shoulder, chest, ribs, and cheek from when he first woke up. Some of the glass around him is spattered with red drops.

He figures it's going to be soaked with blood by the end of this.

He takes a deep breath before slowly lowering into the basin. He carefully turns his head back and forth, trying to burrow deeper into the glass. Despite this, he can feel the way it cuts through his cheeks and forehead– thankfully his eyes and the skin surrounding them are spared, thanks to his domino.

Never has he ever been more thankful for his dramatic tendencies than right now. 

His nose touches the bottom, smooth concrete a stark difference to the miniature knives stabbing and scratching him from all angles.

He pauses, glancing around in the sea of shimmering translucent white for any hint of metal.

Seeing nothing, he pushes into the side. He ignores the pinches and scratches, slowly shoveling the glass out.

When he comes up for air, the glass caves back into the space where his head was. Red-speckled glass that wasn't there before is piled on one side of the basin where he managed to shovel some out. 

He sighs sharply, the beep beep beeping and lack of progress making green flames crawl up his throat and tint the edges of his vision.

He was under for just under three minutes, according to his internal clock. He had no idea how long the clock on the bomb was, but the woman said he didn't have time to waste. With the type of people that did shit like this in Gotham of all places, it could be from anywhere between fifteen minutes to two hours.

He dives back into the basin, getting to the bottom of it quicker than before. Not due to any marginally smaller amount of glass that was there, no. Just due to the fact that Jason was annoyed and wanted to get this over with.

And also the fact that glass cutting into his skin was better than beeping, beeping, red numbers counting down five four three two one–

Forehand or backhand?

A or B?

Crunching bones, laughing screaming crying hahahaHAHAHAHAHA–

Jason rips his head out of the glass, gasping as blood drips into his open mouth. He spits out the glass, coughing desperately to get the jagged shards out of his throat.

It works, somewhat, but he can also feel the way it rips apart his throat at the same time. He doesn't know how long he spends hunched over to the side, trying to get the glass out.

Well, if he wasn't on a time limit before, he probably is now.

With renewed vigor, he grits his bloody teeth and plunges back in. He has to open his mouth partway down to actually feel around for the key, trying to avoid breathing or really anything else as much as he can.

This process makes him realize that he is really glad he has practically no gag reflex. With the amount of blood that runs down (up?) his throat, it would make his life a whole lot harder if his body was trying to kill him quicker. He's already done that once, he isn't keen to do it again.

Jason swears mentally, vehemently, as glass gouges into his cheeks, his forehead, his mouth, tongue, throat, lungs–

Tears prick his eyes as the cuts are scratched over, glass is torn out and replaced with more agonizing, sharper, deeper glass–

Then his teeth clink against something new. His eyes fly open– he had closed them sometime in his minor breakdown– and he sees a slight sheen you only see on metal. It's painted white (that fucking bitch) but it's there. He smiles a bloody smile and manages to get his lips around it, but when he tries to lift it out it slips between his bloody lips and cascades back into the basin of glass.

Jason nearly loses it when he looks down and doesn't see the key, but just takes a calming breath (not a deep one, he is well fucking aware of the glass filling every aspect of his bodily breathing methods) and goes back in. He ignores how most of the basin is painted red now (red is a way better color than white anyways).

He's clenching his hands in an effort to reign himself in because this is taking way too fucking long when he finally finds the key again. This time he grabs it with his teeth, barely holding back a whimper at the mouthful of glass that comes with it but just elated he finally has the fucking key.

Carefully, carefully, he lets the glass leak out of a little opening in the corner of his lips. It's syrupy with his blood, but he doesn't care because he has the fucking key and he's going to get out of here–

As soon as he figures out how to get it into his hands.

Jason squints over his shoulder at the position of his hands and feet, twisting far enough that it pulls at his bruised ribs (but honestly, that's nothing compared to the death by a thousand papercuts that his face is right now). He lets the key slip off his tongue over his shoulder, hearing the clink clank of it bouncing off the bands and chains before it hits the floor.

He shifts his legs to the side, which pulls at his shoulder uncomfortably, somewhere close to the cusp of dislocating.

Of course, that's exactly what he manages to do when blood pools in his throat, and in trying to get it out, he tilts backwards just enough to fall back into the glass.

He lets out a hoarse shout, curling up (or at least really wanting to, the chain connecting his arms and ankles together isn't nearly long enough for that) and coughing out blood and more glass. It splatters everywhere, a small stream of crimson consistently trickling out of his mouth when he finally stops. He doesn't even feel the jagged edges of the cleaner glass dig into his back, arms, hands– he just grasps the key he had spit out and starts fumbling through the piles of mini-knives to get it into the keyhole that's just within his reach.

Beep.

Beep.

Beep.

Beep.

Beep.

After way too long of trying to get the key in, it finally clicks and the bands fall off. Jason breathlessly laughs, blood bubbling up over the corners of his mouth, dripping down his jaw and neck. 

If anyone saw this they'd probably think he was insane.

Well. 

They wouldn't be far off.

Soon, the cuffs around his ankles fall to the ground with a clank and he's finally able to rub his arms after being trapped for what felt like hours but as actually only twenty one minutes and–

Ooh, his hands are not a pretty sight. Reminds him of that one time he–

Focus, Jason.

Right.

He groans as he shuffles to his feet, his mouth hanging just a little bit open to let the blood keep draining out. 

Except, as soon as he straightens, the edges of his vision fill with black spots and ooh, face and mouth wounds bleed way too fucking much.

Too many realizations. Need to get back to somewhere safe.

Focus, Jason.

Each step is agony on his feet, the squish crunch skrit of each step echoing behind every beep that fills the space, but luckily, it's not a far walk.

He gathers his gear with one arm before opening the unlocked (thank the fucking gods, he would've lost it if it was locked) door before running through the dingy building trying to find an exit. The beeping rings in his mind despite the fact that he can't actually hear it.

27 minutes.

Bloody footsteps and broken glass leave a trail of his path through winding hallways and rooms. His breathing is ragged with the effort of not choking, having to stop every twenty steps to let blood leak from his mouth.

Past Jason makes some really bad decisions that are now a problem for current Jason.

29 minutes.

Finally, a door leads to the outside. It's deserted, probably due to the chilled rain, but then again, it's Gotham. It's always fucking raining. The air is heavy with tension and moisture. It's also… oddly quiet. By Gotham standards.

Ignoring that, the building seems to be someplace close to the northern edge of Crime Alley from what Jason can tell, close enough that he can clearly see the Robert Cane Memorial Bridge, aka the bridge that leads directly to Wayne Manor, aka the one place he doesn't want to go right now but has to because he isn't stupid enough to think he can dig glass out of his lungs on his own.

The back of his neck prickles uncomfortably.

He jolts out of his train of thought, moving to stumble away from the building just as a heat and a boom shakes the ground and pieces of concrete and rebar and wood shoot dangerously into the air. He only barely avoids them by ducking around a corner.

Clutching his gear and holding his arm at the strange, dislocated angle, he begins to make his way through the alley, hoping for some god damn luck for once in his fucked up life. Just once.

He's stumbling, one shoulder (not the dislocated one) occasionally scraping against alley walls when it finally happens. Good luck comes to him in the form of an unattended motorcycle with an unlocked saddlebag.

Jason thanks the gods he doesn't believe in and also Wonder Woman as he shoves his shit in the box and hotwires the bike. It roars to life, music to his ears (which are starting to ring a little bit. That's probably not good).

Once he gets settled enough to drive he takes off, taking the corners easy but otherwise breaking every traffic law in existence.

In the blink of an eye, he's cruising into the Batcave on shaky wheels and even shakier field of vision.

“Oh, hey Hood. What are you doing here so early? Usually you're patrolling for another couple hours at least,” A voice asks from the computer. Jason squints when he doesn't hear a British accent, making out the vague dark mop of hair and crutch nearby. That means it's Tim, who was injured enough last night that he was apparently benched. Must've been a leg injury.

He got a lot of texts about it last night. He doesn't remember what any of them said.

In lieu of actually speaking to respond to Tim's question that he clearly didn't turn around to ask, he chucks his helmet in the vague direction of the baby bird, then starts walking on shaky legs towards the med bay.

“What the– oh my god Jay what the fuck happened to you??” Tim screeches when he finally turns around. Jason shoots him an unimpressed look from where he leans against the medbay door, then just waves Tim over and walks away. Distantly he can hear Tim's panicked typing and hurried crutching(?) coming towards him.

“O take over comms I have to go bye–!”

[the-last-f2p]

Yandere promts day 16

16. “Don’t lie, angel. you know what happens”

Featuring: Jing Yuan

Note: Dr ratio will be tagged here probs :>

TW: Implied kidnapping, this kind of written in a different confusing-ish pov.

"Y/N, look at this one!" Yanqing smiles brightly, brazenly holding up what has to be the twentieth sword today "It's half-price."

"So how much is it now?" You ask, trying not to feel bored and enjoy this moment.

"100 000 shield." Yanqing manages to murmur awkwardly.

"Next one." You say in a deadpan way.

This idea of a shopping trip had been pitched by Yanqing after seeing you cry as soon as Jing Yuan walked out of earshot. It took a while like a while while and a lot of begging but you two managed to get it on the rules that:

You're only allowed in the artisanship commission

You and Yanqing are to stay together

Yanqing thought it was great because you gotta get out. You thought it was great because you got a chance to run. It's a win win.

"Okay this one is just 10 000 shield."

"Eh-Y/N? Wh-fuuuccckkk!"

You had 'joked' about running away a couple of times today but he didn't think you were being serious!! Oh my Aeons, the general's gonna be so mad at me.. Yanqing mentally cries.

Just find them before the general does.

Easier said than done.

It must have been ten minutes. At the most. And you crashed straight into something someone. They were tall and fluffy? (probably from the amount of hair). And they were very familiar...

To re-quote Yanqing "fuuuuuccckkk!". It's Jing Yuan.

"Y/N? Aren't you supposed to be with Yanqing? Don't tell me you-... And to think I trusted you."

something about you figuring it out, JUST LIE. "No we got separated, it was really my fault though I thought-"

"No."

"Pardon?"

And then Jing Yuan laughs. It's very breathy and quite unsettling since he was trying to be seirious two seconds ago, "Don't lie, Y/N. You know what happens." He smiles at you, but there's an unertone of something. Anything.

There's only actually a couple of things he could do, incessant physiological and physical torture OR nothing. Hopefully it's the latter.

[azu1as]

You are amazing! Amazing! And I'm a greedy person, so I propose: Older! Time traveler! Baek Cheon and Tang Bo compete for Cheong Myeong's affection. CM is oblivious and CMun is in hell reserved for protective older brothers. Those perverted bastards! How dare they lust after his precious, naive and innocent sajae?! He'll break their heads!

You're so sweet to me 🥺🫶 thank you so much!!!!

also I ADORE TIME TRAVEL AUs sm you have no idea how giddy I got when I saw this ask WAHAHAHA

»—————————–✄

"Oh? He's pretty handsome..."

Tang Bo almost spills the alcohol he was pouring into his cup. His eyes immediately snap towards Chung Myung's face as he slowly lowers the bottle back on the table.

This guy slouched in front of him wasn't someone who gave compliments that easily. It took months of nudging and stubborn insistence for Chung Myung to finally admit that Tang Bo was 'passable-looking, sure, whatever'—a compliment that had to be drawn out tooth and nail but one that Tang Bo won through hard work and effort.

So, surely, he must have misheard Chung Myung's muttering.

"Did you say something, hyung-nim?" Tang Bo asks, smile twitching stiffly at the way Chung Myung's gaze remained locked on something—someone—behind Tang Bo as he took a long sip from his own cup.

"That man behind you," Chung Myung replies, pointing at the subject of their conversation with his mouth non-too-discretely. "He looks like a traveling prince or something."

Tang Bo doesn't know what minute expression passed through his face, but Chung Myung catches it well enough and raises a questioning eyebrow at him.

"I'm serious." Chung Myung insists, not realizing that Tang Bo is irritated for a completely different reason. "He really does look like some well-off to-do guy."

Tang Bo huffs and turns around without any subtlety whatsoever, determined to see what 'this prince guy' looked like to have managed to snag his hyung's attention so easily.

Tang Bo lets out an indignant noise. Okay, he'll admit it. The guy was abnormally handsome. He had well-defined androgynous facial features and an equally well-defined body, Tang Bo thinks, as his gaze locks onto the man's thick and muscled arms.

There might have been merit in Chung Myung's comment about this guy probably being a prince of sorts. If he was, Tang Bo would hedge a guess that he was a runaway one.

The man wore faded, plain white robes without any discernable insignia marking him from a sect or family. He had a similarly white headband strapped across his forehead with dark bangs framing an unblemished face.

If he was trying to disguise himself or hide his identity, he was doing a terrible job at it. Despite the simplicity of his outfit, his presence alone (and face) demanded attention.

"Told you." Chung Myung cheekily says, laughing at Tang Bo's disgruntled expression.

Even Tang Bo could admit that the man looks like he stepped out of one of the many heroic epics that common folk often passed around through books and verbal tales. How unfair.

Grumbling lightly, Tang Bo turns back to their table and throws back his cup of alcohol. "Bet he's just some rich runaway brat."

"Eh? Probably. But—ah, huh?"

A shadow falls over Tang Bo and he watches as Chung Myung's surprised face ends up trained above Tang Bo's head.

"Hello." The man greets them with his deep voice.

Ugh, Tang Bo grimaces as he pulls back his chair away from the man's shadow. Even his voice sounded handsome if that were even possible.

But Tang Bo was the gentleman between him and his hyung, so he replies, faking politeness, "Can we help you? My companion and I are in the middle of a meal together, you see."

Tang Bo tenses, immediately on guard when he sees the man's eyes sharpen as it turns towards him, clearly recognizing the dismissive tone Tang Bo used.

Other than an indecipherable flash in his eyes, the man's face (which felt more punch-able by the second, if you asked Tang Bo) remained unchanged.

The disruptor kept his gentle smile and Tang Bo was certain that he chose to stand where he did because of the way the lightbulb illuminated his face from above.

"It's alright, I can wait."

If Tang Bo had any less self-control, he would have already grabbed the man by the lapels of his faded robes and tossed him out of the establishment himself.

Who the hell was this man to have the audacity to look at his Chung Myung with such a warm gaze as he said that?

"Ha. Ha." Tang Bo grits out, a vein in his jaw ticking.

He doesn't care if this man looks like the textbook and fairytale version of a heroic warrior. His shamelessness should cancel out that stupid-looking face of his...!

Tang Bo feels a part of his soul leave at the unfairness of it all when Chung Myung shifts in his seat in involuntary self-consciousness.

Normal people wouldn't have noticed that—hell, not even Chung Myung himself probably realized!—but Tang Bo knew his hyung. They've spent too much time together to not not know each other's body language.

So why?

Why the hell did Tang Bo just spot a smirk on the man's face, huh?!?!

Chung Myung's eyes waver momentarily for reasons Tang Bo couldn't pick out, but Chung Myung hesitantly (why, hyung?!) opens his mouth and asks, "Have we...met before?"

Tang Bo's eyes nearly bulge out of his skull at the flirtatious-sounding sentence.

He knows Chung Myung doesn't realize it, but his hyung was personally handing over a signed warrant to this man, allowing him permission to take as many shameless liberties as he wanted.

In times like this, Tang Bo wishes his hyung wasn't as socially oblivious as he was.

He knows it's a futile hope to wish that the man missed the opening. But he seemed to recognize that Chung Myung was asking the question with pure face value.

Nonetheless, Tang Bo wishes he hadn't suggested this very detour for some alcohol because then they wouldn't have encountered this tall man in front of them.

The stupid, headband-wearing man hums as he fiddles lightly with the pink tassel on the hilt of his sheathed sword.

His gaze goes a bit distant as if recalling a far-off memory, and when he blinks back to reality, he lets out a deep, vibrating chuckle and locks eyes with Chung Myung.

"You were unforgettable."

Tang Bo's lips tremble. Why did it sound as if this man was insinuating something? His words felt like a romantic confession as well as a pointed barb directed at Tang Bo.

Chung Myung coughs lightly at the odd compliment thrown at him and throws back in one go the remaining alcohol in their shared bottle. He chuckles awkwardly before motioning at the man to sit down on the other side of the table.

Tang Bo doesn't think Chung Myung realizes it, but a light pink flush is spread over his cheeks.

And Tang Bo, unconsciously crushing the cup of alcohol in his hand, knew that it wasn't because of the alcohol.

[psychologicalwarclaire]

18 for the injury prompts. Gimme brains and brawn plz :]

Hello Pixel!

Number 18: "Stop. No. Wake up. Wake up! I said wake up!"

Y'all remember in the season one finale when Draxum threatened to torture the boys for information on the last piece of the Dark Armor? Yeaaahhhhh me too >:)

---

The frigid metal of the cage seeped through Raph's Hamato Clan uniform. He was grateful for the long sleeves, at least.

His head still spun with dizzying visions that only got more and more nonsensical. His dad saying the same thing forwards and backwards. His dad tearing apart the Lair yelling, "I DON'T KNOW WHAT IT IS!" His dad hyperventilating in April's arms, sobbing, "I don't know how to save them."

Raph didn't understand what any of it meant. Why was he the one getting visions?

"Are you guys getting anything?" he ventured at last.

"Nope."

"Nuh uh."

"Negative."

"We've gotta find a way out of here! Hamato style!" Raph got to his feet and the cage swayed. "Come on, what would our ancestors do?"

"We've only been following their ways for like a day and a half, Raph!" Mikey groaned. "We're not exactly experts."

Leo smirked. "Maybe you're not," he teased.

Raph shot him a look. Now was not the time.

"What, I'm just trying to lighten the mood! We're locked in a cage, held for random by the Foot, and none of us gave Dad grandchildren. I doubt a little joking will make things worse."

Nodding, Mikey managed a smile. "Yeah, things could be worse, so let's--"

"You're right, orange one."

The turtles all leapt to their feet at the sound of Baron Draxum's voice.

Donnie let out a strangled sound as Draxum rose up to the cage's level on a tide of magenta vines. Distantly, Raph noted that Don had been quiet in the way he only was when he was really stressed.

"I will give you one chance to tell me where the final piece of the Dark Armor is."

The turtles glanced at each other.

"We don't know," Raph said. It was the simplest and most truthful answer he could give.

"Yeah," Leo added. His mind was clearly whirring behind his red mask. "If we did, why would we be here trying to stop you instead of out protecting it?"

"Indeed," Donnie nodded. "As much as I hate admitting when information eludes me, I will admit that none of us know where the final piece is. Or even what it is."

Donnie's testimony should have been the most concrete proof Draxum needed. The softshell simply couldn't lie.

Softshell...

Raph suddenly became very aware that Donnie's battleshell was at home and Draxum was looking more murderous by the minute.

"You are all LIARS! I KNOW the final piece is under the care of Lou Jitsu of the Hamato Clan!"

"No?" Mikey piped up. "I think we would've known--"

"BUT YOU DO KNOW!" Draxum roared.

Vines slammed into the cage. Everyone fell to their knees as the floor rocked and spun. There was a screech as the door was wrenched open.

Before Raph could react, vines had wrapped around his waist. His eyes met Donnie's widened ones, and then Raph was yanked away.

Weightless. Falling. Air being squeezed out of his lungs.

His fall was slowed slightly by the vine, but Raph could still tell the ground was approaching too fast. He squeezed his eyes shut, bracing for impact.

WHAM

It took only a split second for the agony of slamming into the ground to set in.

His ears rang. He couldn't see anything. An aggressive ache thrummed through his whole body. He couldn't tell what part of him had landed first; the pain came from everywhere.

Raph couldn't breathe.

Lungs flattened, chest crushed, air stolen, whatever had happened left him unable to inhale.

A blurry world around him spun, flickering like a candle.

Everything came back into sharp, slicing focus.

And Raph finally sucked in a breath. And another. And another.

Before he could fully catch said breath, a hoof came down on his chest. Raph focused on Draxum towering above him.

"You're just as durable as I intended you to be. Excellent."

He could head his brothers distantly calling out to him. Raph opened his mouth to say that he was fine, but everything hurt too much to form words.

Draxum stepped off of him. The vine dragged him along the ground. His skin felt raw from the fall, and being scraped along stone made Raph's legs sting. If the pain hadn't been so big, Raph might have been scared.

Draxum didn't drag him far. The room Raph was pulled into had a huge metal door, but Draxum didn't close it.

Noticing Raph's unfocused eyes lingering on it, the sheepman grinned. "I want your brothers to hear your screams. It will be... motivation."

Only then did Raph look around the chamber. Chains sprawled across the floor like tangled tree roots. Metal tables stained in different shades of red and brown rested in corners. One wall was nothing but sharp, spikey tools splattered with the same shades.

Damp musk hung in the air. Like a blow to the gut, it made Raph think of the sewers of his home. It wasn't fair for this place of pain to smell like that. Underneath the haunting aromas of home, however, was something deeper and more primal.

Raph recognized it from the corpse flower.

Rot.

And blood.

The fear had blossomed into terror. The terror was much, much bigger than the pain now.

Raph was shoved against one of the bigger tables. The chill of it bit through his uniform worse than the unforgiving cage had.

Cold metal clamps wound their way around Raph's wrists, ankles, and neck.

Draxum pressed some buttons and a soft buzzing filled the room like a den of dozing wasps.

"H-hey," Raph managed. "Let's, uh, let's talk about this."

"I gave you the chance to talk of your own volition. This was your choice. Let's try this again." Draxum's face lit up in an insane grin. He reached for a lever.

"What are you going to do to me," Raph whispered.

"This."

Draxum yanked the switch down, and for a sick second, Raph was reminded of Donnie playing mad scientist.

The buzzing roared to life. Excruciating pain shot through Raph, thousands of tiny electric needles, as red lightning arched through him.

He couldn't even scream.

Worse than hitting the ground. Worse than than anything he had ever felt.

Worst of all, something deep inside of him was twisting, writing, fighting, tearing apart.

And then it was gone, leaving nothing but aches in its wake.

"Awful, isn't it?"

Raph let out a pitiful noise like a tiny wounded animal.

"I made you, you ungrateful brute. I know exactly how much pressure I must apply to break you. Tell me where the Dark Armor is."

"I don't know," Raph whimpered. "None of us know."

Draxum's fingers wrapped around the lever again. "If that's what you choose."

Crimson lightning, like bloody sparks shot through him again. Raph couldn't move. Pinned in place by pain, all he could do was feel his muscles spasm. Surely, they were shriveling, tearing from his bones.

He could feel the places where the metal touched him burning burning burning burning--

Whatever it was inside of him that was wailing in agony was dying. He could feel it. Trembling apart and leaving a void behind.

"Please," Raph rasped.

When it was over again, there were tears flowing down Raph's face and smoke curling off of his uniform.

He could barely breathe with unyielding metal circling his throat.

"You know how to get it to stop."

"Please..."

"This really is quite the marvelous contraption. You see, it runs off of mystic power. Your very own mystical energy is being drained and repurposed as electricity. I'm sure your the purple one could explain the laws of energy to you."

He already had. Energy cannot be created or destroyed. Only transformed.

Raph missed his brother.

"All this can be over if you just tell me what you know, turtle."

"Raph doesn't know! It's lost. Please... please make it stop." A sob bubbled out of Raph. Everything hurt.

He twitched as a random zap of energy cut through him.

"Liar."

Draxum wrenched the lever.

Now that Raph knew what was happening, it was even worse. He could feel his ninpo cracking. Cold loneliness flooded his chest as his connection to his family wanted.

Agony.

Sharp, angry TV static filled his limbs. Parts of his suit were burning away.

Through it all, the the horrific, overwhelming pain only worsened.

Raph was screaming.

It burned his throat even more, but he couldn't help it.

And yet it kept going.

On and on and on.

Make it stop.

Make it stop.

MAKE IT STOP.

Millions of miles away, he heard the switch flip. But the lightning continued to envelop him. The pain continued to ricochet through his shell.

Raph convulsed, straining and slamming against the restraints despite the awful stinging where he'd been burned.

Finally, he sagged back against the table. Horrible, gasping, ugly sobs were torn from his raw throat. Hot tears flowed down his face, pooling in his ears.

Raph was drained in every sense of the word. Cold darkness had swallowed his lungs. He was more alone than he had ever been in his life.

And absolutely

EVERYTHING

every bone, blood vessel, and cell of his body

hurt.

At the other end of a long tunnel, Draxum's voice echoed back to him. "...aybe your brothers will."

No!

But Raph couldn't say it. He could barely even think it.

The inky void welling behind his plastron spilled into his vision. Raph's eyes were so heavy... so heavy...

He twitched, feeling the dregs of ninpo within him try to rekindle itself.

And for the second time, Raph fell.

Down

Down

Down

Down

Down

---

The agonized wails of Donnie's older brother were magnified a thousand times as they echoed off the walls.

Gutteral, desperate screams that made Donnie sick to his stomach were made even worse by the knowledge that they were Raph's.

Raph. Infallible, immovable, incredible.

Raph. Sobbing, screaming, shrieking.

Never in all of Donnie's life had he heard his older brother sound like this.

Mikey had long since retreated into his shell, his Hamato uniform pulling and folding in weird ways. Leo sat with his knees pulled up to his chest and his eyes wide. Unseeing. Donnie sat next to Mikey with his hands pressed over his ears.

It did nothing to stop the third round of screams.

Playtime was over.

Their time parading around the city, skating and laughing and pretending to be heros was over.

Innocence rocked, worldview shattered, there was nothing they could do to fix such a broken situation.

Raph went quiet.

Not silent, thankfully; Donnie could still hear gasping sobs.

Leo was clutching his chest. "I feel it," he whispered. "He's doing something to- to Raph's powers."

Mikey let out a strangled cry from inside his shell.

"Mikey must feel it too," Leo said softly. Donnie had never heard him speak so flatly. It was unnerving. "You're lucky you can't feel it, Don."

"No I'm not," Donnie whispered. Even as he said it, he thought Leo might be wrong. The tightness in his chest wasn't like normal anxiety. It ran deeper.

Draxum bellowed something and they all flinched.

The echoes of his booming voice faded away...

Silence.

Unnerving, imperfect silence.

CLANG!

Without warning, vines wrapped around the bars of the cage. Leo and Donnie yelled, startled.

The door wrenched open and one of them wrapped around Mikey's quivering shell, pulling him away.

"MIKEY!" Leo leaped after him, grabbing fistfuls of fabric as he dangled over the drop. Donnie reached out after them--

Something huge and heavy slammed into Donnie, forcing him back into the cage. The door clanged shut. Pinned beneath a mass of singed fabric, Donnie could only hear the pleas of Leo and the muffled cries of Mikey fade away.

As Donnie wiggled out from under the motionless mountain, he realized--

"Raph!"

Donnie scrambled to his knees, looking over his older brother as best he could.

It wasn't great.

Raph's neck and wrists looked raw and shiny, and the fabric around them had definitely been burned away. One eye was swollen and Donnie had a nasty feeling there would be bruises already blooming under his mask. Under the scraps of remaining suit was probably a mess too. Raph had fallen a LONG way.

And then Donnie realized Raph wasn't moving.

Donnie shook his shoulder. "Raph? Raph, wake up. Wake up! No no no no no, don't do this to me, Raphael! Raph! RAPH!"

He was breathing at least... Shallowly. Raggedly. Practically wheezing.

"Oh I wish Nardo were here. He'd know what to do. The dumb dumb jumped out after Michael." Donnie dragged his hands over his face. To be fair, he'd rather Mikey not be totally alone. So maybe it was good Leo was with him. Or maybe watching each other get hurt would be even worse...

Donnie tried to take a deep breath.

"This is a mess," he whispered. "It wasn't supposed to go like this. Oh my brownie we're going to die here. He's going to kill us over withholding information we literally don't know--!"

A large hand weakly closed around Donnie's wrist.

"Raph? Raph ohmigosh you're awake! Are you okay? What happened? How do you feel? What hurts?"

But Raph didn't answer. His breathing deepened and his grip tightened. Maybe that was all he had the energy for. Raph, who must have been in so much pain and so incredibly exhausted... was using what little energy he had to comfort Donnie. A lump formed in Donnie s throat.

He didn't have any words to offer. Not for comfort, not for empty promises, not for vows or revenge. Nothing.

He took his free hand, the one not being squeezed by Raph, and softly rubbed his older brother's head.

"I've got you, Raphie. Just... just rest, okay?"

A soft whine of gratitude rose from Raph's chest, melting into deeper breathing.

Donnie refused to look too closely at what had been done to his brother. He wasn't sure he could handle it. Helpless, he just kept rubbing Raph's head.

There was nothing else he could do.

The cruel mockery of a peaceful moment was shattered an instant later as a new, equally painful sound split the air.

Mikey was screaming.

[radioactivepeasant]

Free Day Thursday: Fragile Things

(This is the one where overuse of light eco at the point of death rewound Damas’s soul back three years. He still isn't sure whether he actually died and accidentally entered another timeline's body when that Damas would have died early, or if he just had an extremely detailed vision. Either way, he broke into Haven and kidnapped TPL Jak literally right in front of Errol and his patrol, and 100% forgot to explain this to his people. Including Jak.) This is long so I'm breaking it into two three posts because even with a read-more it'd be a lot of scrolling.

Two Months Before the Incident:

For the children of the North Quarter, the bridge was a popular place to play and congregate. Most people didn't mind their youngsters hanging around the area, as it was close enough to the tower to discourage general mischief. Footraces, dramatic games of make-believe, even impromptu Raids matches were held on the dusty landmark. It wasn't uncommon for a passing adult to stop and keep an eye on the children for a while, occasionally playing referee.

It was not common for that adult to be King Damas.

He leaned against the tower, and an entrance to the filtration levels that only a handful of Spargans had the code to. Nine children ranging from ten to fourteen in age were spread across the bridge in little groups. The smaller ones were playing a fairly unhinged version of Raids that had evolved to include someone's pet dogat. The older three were crouched closer to him, intent on learning a marble game Jak was trying to teach them. Kill-Grid, he called it, some fusion of checkers and an Arena trial. Damas hadn't quite gotten the hang of it yet, himself, but he enjoyed watching Jak play.

One of the water staff exited the entrance and was taken aback to find him there. For a moment, the balding man looked around as if expecting trouble. When he realized that the king was merely taking his turn looking after the collective of children, he relaxed.

"One of these days someone is going to go right over the side of this thing," he sighed.

"And that's why they're never up here unsupervised," Damas agreed. Never taking his eyes from the children, he asked, "How are the new saline filters working out?"

Jeriko made a face. "All good but one. There's a crack in the seal we didn't notice at installation. We're going to have to take it out and use the old filter until it's fixed."

"Ah. I'll have the Trade guild remind its members to examine imports from Kras more closely." Damas rubbed his nose and shrugged. "Still, three out of four isn't bad."

"No indeed.”

They were silent for a while, and Jeriko noticed something. While Damas’s eyes periodically flitted across every little Spargan on the bridge, they always came back to one in particular. The skinny little thing he'd brought back after dropping off Sig for his infiltration mission. Jak, right? Or Jag? Jeriko could never quite tell, but the boy was almost always in the tower. Far more than any of his playmates would have been. Jeriko could almost swear the boy lived there.

"You knew him already, didn't you?"

He couldn't say what had possessed him to ask what so many whispered about already. A death-wish?

But Damas wasn't offended. There was a faraway quality to his gaze as he murmured, "Yes."

He folded his arms and sighed.

"He's thirteen, now. Thirteen! It doesn't seem real."

This was not what Jeriko had expected to hear. He turned to face his king in shock.

"Did you know him...before? In Haven?"

Did he leave a kid behind? He wouldn't do that, right?

Damas’s mind was far from the bridge. He answered honestly, but he did not think then how his answers would be interpreted.

"He's changed so much-! And yet for me, it seems only days since we were first separated."

Oh. Jeriko blanched. The coup. Jak had probably been a hostage to ensure that Damas cooperated. He would have been a newborn then! The poor kid! Jeriko didn't want to think about what kind of life he'd led before Damas went back for him. And now Haven had his other child, too? It was unthinkable.

"Does...does he remember?" Jeriko asked cautiously.

Damas shook his head. "No. I was a stranger to him."

His voice caught on the words.

"But it is...better this way. Better he is spared the horrors I remember. If I must rebuild our relationship from the beginning, I will gladly do so as long as he's safe."

Jak looked up then, meeting Damas’s gaze. He blinked at the intensity of it, then beamed and waved.

Damas smiled and waved back, but his eyes were still troubled.

And now, so were Jeriko's.

Five Days Before the Incident:

(The snippet where Jak jumpscares Damas by asking "Hey are you secretly my dad or something")

The Incident:

On the mainland, autumn had arrived. The air was cooling, and leaves were beginning to change color. On the desert island colloquially known as The Wastelands, fall meant temperatures dropping from 100° to 75°, and the air drying out. A relief for everyone except the people who harvested humidity to sell water. The cooling of the air meant that the sandstorm season had ended, and the rainy season would be upon them soon.

In the city of Spargus, that meant children anxiously awaiting the first major storm of the year. Once it had rained for more than fifteen minutes in a single span, the council would choose a day within the week to celebrate the Rainfall holiday on. Rainfall meant a four day break from school, and distribution of carefully conserved fruits and sweets, and the annual plays and mock battles held in the Arena to entertain the youngest Wastelanders. (And some of the older ones, not that they'd admit it.)

Jak had never heard of the holiday before being brought to the desert city. But it reminded him of Aurora Night in Sandover -- or more specifically, Rock Village. Uncle Erasmus had brought the tradition down into the coastal village when he settled there, long before Jak arrived.

He wondered where in the world Erasmus had ended up -- or maybe when. The calendars were all messed up now.

The holiday sounded like a lot of fun. There had never been more than three children in their little neighborhood in Sandover, and celebrations were subsequently quite small. But here there were more kids than Jak had ever seen in one place before. And even the older ones were excited about Rainfall!

Jak sat under an awning with a few other twelve and thirteen year olds, sorting spent ammunition casings to be recycled. It was normally a chore for very young children, but someone in Jak’s class had gotten them all on punishment.

The actions of one affected the whole.

That's the lesson the teacher was trying to impress on them: that one person breaking rules and taking risks in the ruins could put a whole team in danger.

Half the kids understood the lesson behind the group punishment. The other half -- including Jak -- thought it was just grown-ups being mean.

"Y'know what's the worst about this?" complained a girl to Jak’s left -- one of his regular playmates these days, "It wasn't even me this time! For once, I didn't sneak off, and I'm still getting baby chores!"

Jak snorted. "Lose-lose," he signed.

"You said it," Flick agreed.

She tossed another empty Scatter cartridge into a basket and nudged Jak's foot with her own.

"Hey, you think the big boss will give you a Rain Bead this year?"

"Huh?"

Jak tilted his head quizzically.

Flick took a moment to wind her braided hair back up out of her way, only to undo her work again by shrugging.

"Y'know, since you live...somewhere in the tower. Does he take care of you? Or do you live on the first floor?"

"I live with Damas? You knew that already?"

He wasn't that surprised that she'd forgotten. There were a lot of floors in the tower, and three of them had people living in them. And since people didn't like to talk about Damas’s other kid, the baby his friend in Haven was searching for, they tended to assume that Damas wasn't the one looking after Jak.

The only exceptions were the guards and the filtration staff. They gossiped worse than old Mrs. Perch! Inside the tower, it was an open secret that Jak had either been adopted by the king, or was a biological child that had been taken from him when he was exiled.

Jak pretended not to hear them gossiping when they saw him. It just made his head hurt.

Forget figuring out how that could work. Damas said he wanted to be Jak's dad on purpose! That was even better, right? Because it meant he wasn't obligated to look after Jak, he did it because he wanted to.

Jak watched a strand of bone beads bounce against Flick's braid -- off-white against bright teal -- and counted them silently.

Thirteen, one for every Rainfall Flick had experienced. She was looking forward to her fourteenth bead. Some Wastelanders had as many as twenty hanging from belts or hair! But only those with parents living in the city.

It wasn't a gift friends could give. Apparently it was reserved only for parents and guardians.

Jak didn't know if Damas would give him a rain bead, but he was hoping he would.

Lost in thought, he didn't notice the half filled blaster casing still contained until his hands tingled.

Oh, he hadn't meant to channel it out!

Jak pretended to light one of his fingers on fire and watched the eco hop from vein to fingertip like a perverse candle.

It wasn't enough for a full fireball, but that was for the best. The last time there was an eco imbalance, he'd nearly singed off Teacher Rustin's eyebrows.

"Aw cool!" Flick leaned over with a wide, crooked grin. "Man, I wish I could channel."

Feeling a bit whimsical, Jak used the fire to write words in the air before it ran out.

"That's what the shells are for, right? Even the playing field."

"Yeah," Flick sighed, "I guess that's true."

Then she started digging around for more blaster casings.

"Do it again."

"Guysss!" a younger boy whined from further down the line, "Quit! You're gonna get us in more trouble!"

Considering this was the youngster who had gotten them on group punishment in the first place, nobody paid him much attention.

"Here! How about this one?"

Flick tossed another shell to Jak.

"Nah. Empty."

The baskets were nearly full by the time they found more eco. Most of their classmates had finished their allotted baskets and been dismissed to carry on with their day by then. And according to Rustin, Jak could have left by now. But he hadn't channeled yellow eco in months! Now he wanted to find more!

"Ah-ha!"

Jak held up three shells triumphantly. Now this was enough for a fireball.

Rustin leapt to his feet.

"Noooooo you don't!" the young man shouted, "You get out of here with that eco!"

Cackling, Jak and Flick scooped up a handful of disorganized cartridges and shells and dashed out of the stall towards the beach.

Nobody minded if kids made a mess on the beach. Wasn't much to mess up. Flick turned a cartwheel -- showoff, Jak couldn't do that! -- and landed on her feet. Jak just did a somersault, as he always did back h- back in Sandover.

"Hey! I'll throw a sandball, and you blast it outta the air, okay?"

Flick ran to the surf and began packing wet sand into a sphere.

Jak drew the remnants of the yellow eco out of the spent casings. The stuff ran out quickly. You either channeled it out, or it got absorbed into your core.

The warmth gathered in his palm, sharpened his sight, and Jak waited.

Flick pulled back her arm and launched her projectile straight up.

Blam!

The fireball struck it dead-on. Sand rained down on them both.

Laughing, Jak brushed it out of his hair and shoved the fully empty casings into his pocket. Sorting through the random assortment they'd grabbed, he was disappointed to find no red residue in any of them. Oh well. There was a hint of blue, though.

Jak curved his right hand down into his left palm.

"Again!"

"You got it, partner!" Flick ran back to make another sandball, missing Jak's wince.

He didn't want to hurt her feelings, but he wasn't her partner. It was Jak and Daxter, not Jak and Flick. Damas’s friend would find Daxter, Damas said so! He was so sure of it! Damas was always telling him that he would see Daxter again, that he couldn't give up.

Flick was his friend -- she'd probably be Daxter's friend, too -- but Daxter was the one who'd been through enough with him to be a partner.

"Okay! Ready for launch?"

Flick waved an arm.

"Readyyyyy- go!"

This time, Jak didn't shoot a fireball. This time he'd gotten a fingerful of blue eco.

Just that little bit was enough to propel him four feet up in a single leap to slap a hand against the sandball, smashing it.

"Yoooo!" Flick crowed, "That was awesome!"

Then an idea struck her. Jak recognized that little shimmer. When the girl's brown eyes looked almost gold for a moment, that was cause for concern. That meant somebody's parents were going to get called by the end of this.

Unfortunately, it also meant something really fun was about to happen. Choices, choices.

"Wait here." Without waiting for an answer, Flick turned and pelted up the beach, sending up little sprays of sand in her wake.

Jak tucked the Vulcan cartridge into his pocket with the other casings and shrugged. The weather was nice, he didn't mind waiting. The water was just beginning to cool, the perfect temperature for swimming. Jak struggled with his boots -- laces, he hated laces! It took weeks for Damas to teach him to tie his own stupid shoes! -- and kicked them off with a grumble before diving in.

The salt stung his eyes, but Jak had grown accustomed to that years ago. He pushed past the cloudy grit of the shallows and down past the breakers, to where the water was clear, and clean, and blue.

There was coral here. Not as dense as the reef in Rock Village, but there were more fish around it. Parrotfish nibbling at odd ends, wrasse darting in and out and hiding in the sand, funny little things shaped like flat ribbons that bumbled along. Jak loved to watch them all.

Sometimes, if he looked hard enough, he could find pieces of orbs under the coral. There were some whole ones, too, but prying them out would require breaking the coral, and Jak still remembered Samos's hour long lecture about coral being an animal of some kind. Jak didn't want to hurt an animal that wasn't hurting him just for the sake of something shiny. The shards of orbs he dredged up were enough -- the adults certainly seemed to think so. Apparently there were so many broken orbs around the desert that shards had become the most common form of currency. Jak wondered what could be powerful enough to smash an orb.

It wasn't until he came up for air that he realized Flick had been calling him. He wasn't sure when she'd gotten back. Time seemed to disappear when he was underwater. In no particular hurry, Jak swam a leisurely circuit before making his way back to shore. Flick had a bag over her shoulder that she was clinging to with a clear impatience. What was she up to?

"C'mon! Hurry! Before my mom figures out I took these!"

Well that was both promising and ominous at the same time.

Jak shook off seawater like a crocadog. (He saw them swimming beyond the reef sometimes. He badly wanted to touch one, but it Wasn't Allowed, apparently.)

Flick squealed and jumped out of the way.

"Ja-aak! Quit!"

He did not.

Once he'd wrung out his scarf -- and flicked the water off his fingers and onto his friend -- Jak leaned over with a questioning grunt.

Flick's eyes sparkled with mischief.

When she pulled back the flap, shiny yellow and blue plastic caught the sunlight.

Bullets. Unspent bullets.

Flick was fourteen; she was allowed to have Scattergun cartridges -- Jak still had to wait a year to be allowed to hold a gun -- but Blaster and Vulcan rounds? Absolutely not. The lure of the forbidden pulled at Jak, and he only hesitated for a moment.

The last time he'd given in to that call, his best friend got turned into an ottsel. But, they'd also uncovered Gol and Maia's plot.

And it wasn't like there was any dark eco here. He definitely had no chance of turning Flick into an ottsel.

Jak took adventure's bait, hook line and sinker.

Prying open the bullets to get the eco out was difficult. It took several minutes, and the sun was beating down uncomfortably on their shoulders when they finally cracked the seal on a Vulcan round. But it was so worth it. The rush of blue eco, shooting through his body, made Jak feel almost like he was back on Sentinel Beach. He whooped and took off down the strand, laughing.

Go go go go go! cried the eco in his blood, Faster! Higher! Further!

He'd made it halfway up the side of the cliff before he felt the eco beginning to wear off. Making the most of every last spark, Jak kicked off the rock wall and into a backflip, landing on his feet.

The nice thing about blue eco was that he was never out of breath after using it.

Jak turned to find Flick, much further down the beach. He waved his arms with a theatrical, "TA-DA!"

Flick whooped and waved her own arms. She waited until Jak had jogged back to her before pulling out a Blaster bullet.

"Now let's do fire!"

They spent close to half an hour playing with the elements of motion and range and fire. It was so strange to Jak that this was such a foreign concept to children in Spargus. There were no open vents here, no clusters of raw eco oozing from the rocks and the sea and the earth itself. Was it because it was a desert?

"Hey Jak," Flick said when they had begun to wind down, "How come you can channel more than one eco?"

Jak looked away from the sun, which was beginning to sink, with a startled grunt.

Oh. Right. The sages only ever channeled just one. He supposed monks were like sages in training, so they probably only channeled one eco, too.

"I don't know. I just do." Jak shrugged. "I can't turn it off. It just happens."

Flick laid back on the sand with her hands behind her head. "Huh. Well, that's kind of cool though."

They were quiet for a few seconds, but the calm wouldn't last.

Flick abruptly sat up and shifted to look at Jak. He blinked back at her upside-down visage and wondered why he suddenly had a bad feeling.

Was this what it was like to be Daxter?

"Have you ever channeled more than one eco?" Flick asked, "at the same time?"

A year ago, Jak would have said that was impossible. Picking up green turned off the effects of blue. Yellow turned off red. He just couldn't hold onto two at once.

Or so he'd thought.

But then came the last battle against the Acherons.

"Actually..."

Now Jak sat up, frowning.

"Actually, yeah! Only once, but it was like-"

He made a few meaningless gestures, trying to convey a sensation he couldn't describe.

"It was all four! And- and they mixed or something into- to- white eco or something!" Jak's hands were exaggerated into a shout. "It was like mega powerful!"

"Nuh-uh!" Flick challenged, but she was smiling. "There's no way. You did not homebrew light eco."

"Wasn't me, it was four sages!" Jak explained. "Maybe that's why I could do it?"

"Well can you only do it with all four, or does it work with three? Or even just two?"

The wheels were turning in Flick's head.

"What if you wanted speed and firepower, but not super strength?"

"Blue and yellow! Maybe!"

Jak didn't know that it wouldn't work.

And even if it didn't, at worst one would just cancel out the other.

"Might not do anything, but who knows!"

"We'll know.”

Next>

[ashes0909]

taylor swift lyrics / prompt list

You'll be flushed when you return

If it feels like a trap, you're already in one

They got no idea about me and you

Stress and holiday shopping traffic

Get it off my desk

No, nothin' good starts in a getaway car

I saw the dimples first

But I didn't pour the whiskey

I think he did it but I just can't prove it

But this is gonna take me down

They say I did something bad / Then why's it feel so good?

Now I'm standing alone in a crowded room

Of you touching my hand in the darkened room

If you're coming my way, just don't

It hits different 'cause it's you

Dancing with our hands tied

So casually cruel in the name of being honest

The worst thing that I ever did / Was what I did to you

You are the best thing that's ever been mine

At least I'm trying

One single thread of gold tied me to you

I had the time of my life fighting dragons with you

I know they said the end is near

So this is me swallowing my pride

Up on the roof with a school girl crush

On sinking ships / You showed up just in time

You're talking shit for the hell of it

Still got scars on my back from your knife

He looks up grinning like a devil

I should've slept with one eye open at night

I bet you think about me

Some guy said my aura's moonstone / Just 'cause he was high

I get drunk on jealousy

A dwindling, mercurial high

Welcome to New York

[questioningmyexistence432]

'Vigilante.'

warning — stalking. use of the pet name ‘doll’ but neutral otherwise. nothing major in this one but let me know if anyone wants a pt2

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳

Dabi had always been a little amused by the public's opinion of Endeavor. they disliked him - fearful of the flaming ‘hero’. Dabi couldn't wait for their reactions when he finally exposed how much of a flaming piece of shit the number two hero truly was. the fear, outrage, and all the other reactions he was going to pull from the public of hero-worshipping nobodies. 

however, there was one person. Dabi thought they were…special. a vigilante - already a lawbreaking nuisance in the eyes of the heroes and police. oh, but they went out of their way to be a nuisance to his shitty father especially. a true thorn in the side of Enji Todoroki. rushing in to save civilians as Enji is about to - also, not leaving before they landed at least how blow on the hero. Dabi even tuned into the news when he noticed a story about the particular vigilante.  

it was entertaining to watch but something always made Dabi’s eye twitch as he watched. this person was a vigilante - how long till they got the wrong idea and thought they could take Endeavor out? how long till they took away Dabi’s revenge plan? he couldn't let that happen. he wasn't willing to give up his newly recognised birthright - snuffing out his father’s life under his boot. 

so, he did the only reasonable thing. he tracked them down. all the way back to their stupid and very cramped apartment. 

Dabi entered the room - a bit of forced entry on this side of town never hurt anyone. never got reported either. too much other shady shit going down. a smirk came to the scarred man’s lips. too easy. this was too damn easy. he took in the space of the apartment - raising his eyebrow at the boxes of takeout but it's not like he was anywhere near a clean person himself. he took his time in making his way over to the secondhand-looking couch and plopping himself down on the piece of furniture. he waited - even lit up a cigarette. 

mid-inhale when he finally hears the jingle of keys leading down the hallway outside the apartment.  he dropped the lit cigarette to the wooden floor beneath him before snuffing it out under his boot. he lent his head to the side - letting it crack before the unmistakable sound of a door being pushed open came to his ears. he let the vigilante get a good look at him before he opened his mouth. 

“we got some shit to discuss, Doll.” he drawled out - a smirk on his lips that pulled against the stables in his face as he spoke.

[enhanced-operatives-division]

Junicrane/Starstruck Ramble

I will not be brief, all under the cut

To clear some things right off the bat:

No corpse, no proof with Juniper. Obligatory this is set in a canon where he's alive and adjacent to the agency in some way.

Reggie & Juniper are just gay to me, but I don't mind any interpretation of their sexuality

The games are set in 1967/68 to me (based on a couple bits in game) which is before it was legal to be gay in America at least (1971), which is relevant to how I interpret canon as being somewhat grounded in reality, despite unrealistic elements.

This is just an insane amount of headcanons/elements of and AU all culminated into one post. I will talk about some headcanons like they're just facts because they are established in my head, and it saves me over explaining literally everything, however I will explain some parts a little bit for clarity.

Alright. Actual beginning of the ramble:

Juniper is a character to me who had gotten so lost in his job as an actor and a social presence that in the end his whole life revolved around that 'role'. Because of this, by the time he's put into the situation where he's around the Agency, he basically knows nothing about himself, though he doesn't realise at first. Furthermore, what little identity he had has changed in so many ways. He's no longer a beloved famous actor in the prominence of public light, he's legally dead and he tarnished his career just before he was supposed to die, with the bonus of that making him lose the majority of his estate. From that, he also has horrific facial scarring from the electrical burns from literally having his face fried. I believe a friend of mine made a post about this a while ago (I also think they were the first to think it up also), but, to me, Juniper has a permanent trimmer in his right arm (aka his dominant hand) from the electrical current and it is messing with his nervous system.

All in all, he's not doing great, but he's too proud to admit that he's not doing great, because if anything, what's left of his ego is all he has as a defense since he's deep in unfamiliar water.

Before ending up around the agency (I have multiple interpretations of this, so I'm just going to bring it up generally), he'd never actually seen Reggie, and his only impression of him is a single voicemail, which was his only reference he had to later impersonate him. Juniper probably has very little feelings other than the ones he projects onto him because of Phoenix and that, at the very least, he's physically attracted to Reggie to some degree (that's like the beginning of how everything else would tumble into place in this sort of interpretation at least).

And on Crane's side? His feelings towards Juniper are probably very intense and muddled. On the one hand, he adores musical theatre, and that's his now ex-favourite actor. The thought of just casually being around him blows the bit of fanboy in him away at first because THAT'S the GUY, plus the inklings of a celebrity crush which still poke at him. And then there's the rational side of him, which knows Juniper has committed absolute atrocities on the side of Zoraxis, and hates him for that. Then there's how much Juniper comes off as an asshole at first because he refuses to cooperate with anything the Agency tried to put in place. He finds Juniper endlessly frustrating, and yet he's stuck working with him since, afterall, he's the one who knows the Agency's history with Juniper the best. I imagine him acting a lot like how he does IEYTD 1 around Juniper.

At this point, I'm just describing the pitch for a romcom.

I think the start of their relationship with one another largely started with Juniper trying to wind Crane up. It was a way of getting his attention, and I don't think Juniper knows why he's so dead set on that at first, because I don't think he realises he has a crush on 'this grump' at first. (I think that's actually the fun part about these two, because it's almost like a role reversal of the celebrity crush dynamic. This ex-big name actor has a TERRIBLE crush on an average joe and it is KILLING HIM.) But of course the Agency keeps them together because Juniper is at least conversing with Crane, so it's a start.

Through one way or another, they actually get talking casually, at least mildly at first. It takes Juniper a long time to fully deconstruct the wall he's built, and the thing is, Crane isn't the one trying to deconstruct it, at least at first, because yeah, Juniper realises if he wants Reggie to actually like him in any way, he can't keep winding him up. So they talk. Small talk at first, something rhythmic and almost easy to keep to a script. And over time that turns into actual conversations. Genuine ones in which Reggie rips out the occasional one of his jokes which Juniper is endlessly endeared about. The way he smiles just before he makes them, like he wants to chuckle at what he's about to say before he says it. That's probably when Juniper realised that he does have some vague crush on him, and that it wasn't going away.

This is what kickstarts John I can't-buy-you-things-to-impress-you-so-acts-of-service-it-is Juniper to do little things for him. It mostly starts off as him trying to make Reggie his tea how he likes it. However, the nerve damage in his arm makes that hard, as the weight of the kettle and trying to pour is hard all of a sudden. And he refuses to accept that, so he tries for a very long while. Long enough that Crane would go to investigate what was going on. And when he does see Juniper leaning over a cup with the kettle as he uneasily tries to pour it, and when Crane asks Juniper responds so matter-of-fact that his intention is nothing but genuine. And it catches Reggie off guard because Juniper hadn't done anything like that up to that point, and his very apparent vulnerability is so clearly on show.

It shifts something between them.

From that point on, conversations are longer, more familiar. Both of their attitudes soften, and Reggie makes more jokes. Juniper learns how to better use his left hand while strengthening his right back to a point where it could be used again. Slowly, they're both spending time with one another not because they have to, but just because they can. Little bits at first, not too far outside what they already were doing, but those little bits turned into long bits to a point where the other person's company was genuinely desirable.

As time passes, Juniper probably realises that he doesn't genuinely know much about himself or what hobbies he's into, because he never really had the time when he got big, and his home life in his youth wasn't bad, but it wasn't picturesque. I think Reggie would pick up on it, and absolutely try to introduce him to some things he's into. Some things stick, other things don't (corn husking very much stays Reggie's passion, and John will go with him sometimes because it's him, but it's not something he strongly cares for). Crane introduces him to a lot of music, and it's something that becomes a staple between them, with tracks they listen to more than others (tragically, I know relatively little about 60s music so I couldn't really say what). Occasionally they dance, never anything intense, think slow dancing, but the closeness is nice.

Through all of it, Juniper is battling the worst crush of his life, and he can't stand it, because I think he struggles to read people since he doesn't have anything like a script or a director to refer back to, so he has no idea if Reggie likes him back or if he's just desperate for that to be true. I think because of that any sort of confession between them would be incredibly raw, not only because of the time they live in making it hard for them to be truthful about how they love, but because it's a complete show of Juniper who's worked to be this better person. I don't exactly know how that would go, mainly because I don't have one set version of their dynamic, this post is just a generalisation of main consistent points.

Reggie does like him back, because he's gotten used to Juniper being just this guy, not a figure in the public eye, not a Zoraxis lackey, and not any sort of Agency operative (despite being under their care to some degree). He's someone he genuinely cares for, because they've given one another the time of day to learn one another, and I think because Reggie was a field agent, he was a lot better at reading Juniper than Juniper was at reading him. Eventually Juniper's company becomes something he could see around him for the rest of his life, and I think he accepts that he likes Juniper a lot more gracefully.

I think any affection directed at Juniper would at first be met with him feeling a little muddled. Reggie was a very physically affectionate person when he could be, and sure the initial flirting with one another came with the occasional little touches, but everything now was so deeply intentional. I also don't think Juniper would almost ever get over the novelty of being able to kiss him, or many other gestures, because it made the fact that they were together so very real, and it was great. I do think it comes easier to Reggie, and it's a big way of showing how much he cares, so it's important for Juniper to try and show it back because he knows how much it means to the other.

I like the idea of them eventually living with one another, too. I think Juniper would have always had a quiet little daydream of sorts where he does just live a domestic quiet life, and he can with Reggie (well, as close as they can get between the Agency and Zoraxis always being at odds), and he loves that, and he loves him, and it's immense.

I think they cook for one another a lot, it helps Juniper work on his dexterity in a controlled environment, which means a lot because it's a huge point of insecurity (that and his scars). He does improve, and Crane is proud of that and shows it and it's great. I also think they'd probably cook together too, because they can deal with being in the kitchen together and they work well with one another. It's probably a good way for them to unwind because over time they can do it in relative silence.

As I said before, I also think music is a staple in their household, and that Reggie listens to things on vinyl almost all of the time because he likes the background noise. Sometimes Juniper will catch him chuntering along to the music which he finds endlessly endearing. I wouldn't put it past his dramatic ass to also join in to fluster Reggie, but I also don't think Reggie would mind that terribly because Juniper has listened to the music enough to know the lyrics, and that's huge to him.

I don't think they are without rough patches, no relationship is, but I think the good part about them is that they're willing to talk about it (... eventually). They're used to long conversations, and while they're often less fun conversations, they're needed and they know that, and it works out.

Alright. I think I'm done for now. I haven't mentioned everything, but this definitely got the worst of it out of my system. If you ever want to hear any specific thoughts my ask box is open but other than that, behold my general dynamic for these two which has been festering in my head for years. I think they're great

[jon-withnoh]

Danbea prompts, you say?! "There was only one bed" #3 - Person A waking up to Person B curled up and sleeping on top of them. (Tbh any of the "there was only one bed" prompts.)

Okay so this became a whole thing. Here is part one of two I hope you enjoy! (Beware, this is three thousand words long.)

Danny drew her coat around herself, shivering. It was snowing so heavily she could not see more than a few feet in front of her. Clutching her carpet bag in both hands, Danny began to move in the direction of where she suspected the stationmaster’s house to be. She had only gone a few steps when a figure emerged out of the flurry of snow around her, knocking into her with surprising momentum. 

“Oh dear,” said the figure. “I do apologise. I cannot see further than my own feet in this weather.” 

Danny stopped short. “Mrs Lacy?”

Mrs Lacy, bundled up so heavily as to be almost unrecognisable, did a double-take. “Miss Danvers. Now what on earth are you doing here?”

“Mrs de Winter sent me ahead on the train so I could meet her when she arrived.” 

“She’s driving?”

“Yes, Madam. She has an appointment in London today and will set out afterwards.”

“Hm.” Mrs Lacy’s exhale produced a small cloud of steam. “I doubt she will be able to set out in this weather. I spoke to the conductor just before the delay was announced. They have had reports of heavy snowfall all over the country, even in London.” 

Danny gave a non-comittal shrug. 

“What do you recommend we do now?” Mrs Lacy asked. 

“There is no chance of continuing our journey this afternoon?”

“I’m afraid not,” Mrs Lacy said. “There are snow drifts all along the way. They will have to wait to clear them until it stops snowing. It would be a wasted effort otherwise. I suggest we go to the village and beg for a room somewhere. Come, I shall take you under my wing, seeing as you are without your lady and I am without a maid.” 

Danny opened her mouth and closed it again. She could see blurry figures all around them, moving from the train in the direction of the stationhouse. Clearly, Mrs Lacy was not the only one who trusted the train conductor’s assesment of the situation. Danny found herself torn. What if Rebecca did set out from London and Danny was not there to receive her? Should she not try and make her way to Scotland via some other route?

Mrs Lacy had been watching her. “Miss Danvers, we are in the middle of Lancashire. We are entirely reliant on the train and the train will not depart until tomorrow at the very least. If Rebecca does arrive before us and gives you any trouble, I will personally vouch for your dedicated attempts to continue your journey.” 

Danny blushed. “Thank you, Mrs Lacy.” 

“Good girl,” Mrs Lacy said, interpreting her thanks as aquiescence. “Follow me, I have excellent directional instincts.” 

Mrs Lacy led the way through the stationhouse and into the town beyond. It was small, smaller than Kerrith or even Lanyon. Spotting the pub amongst the row of houses along King’s street was no difficult feat, though Danny kept this thought to herself. Mrs Lacy gave her a triumphant smile and pointed at the pub, picking up her stride. Danny hurried after her. The snow on the pavement had not been cleared. It was beginning to melt inside her boots. 

As soon as Mrs Lacy pushed open the worn entrance door to the pub, Danny realised that they were not the only passengers to think of taking shelter here, nor had they been the first. She watched Mrs Lacy’s smile faulter as she took in the mass of people crowded around the fire place, the bar, and the reception desk. Nonetheless, the two of them joined the queue by the desk and waited their turn. 

The woman behind the desk gave them a cheerful smile. “What can I do for you?”

“Good afternoon,” Mrs Lacy said. “We were on the train that is currently stranded at the station and would like to spend the night. What kind of rooms can you offer us?”

“Offer? You don’t suppose you were the only passengers looking for rooms, do you? I have one room available and that is it. It is small, but neat and tidy as all our rooms are. It should have twin beds. Ethel—” The woman turned and called over her shoulder. “It’s twin beds, isn’t it?” There was a call of assent from somewhere at the back of the room. “There you have it. One room, twin beds, will that suit you and your—”

“Lady’s maid,” Mrs Lacy said. “And I suppose we will have to make do.” 

“Very well then,” said the woman. “Here is your key. You’ll want to take a left at the top of the stairs and go to the very end of the corridor.”

“Thank you,” Mrs Lacy said. “Come along, Miss Danvers, I am sure we will be quite comfortable.” 

Mrs Lacy’s easy familiarity made her blush. She was used to it from Rebecca, but that was different. They had grown up together; she had taken care of Rebecca when Rebecca had still been afraid of the dark. Mrs Lacy barely knew her. Still, she followed Mrs Lacy up the stairs and down a narrow corridor with doors on either side. As the woman had said, their room was at the very end. It was much colder here than it had been downstairs, where the logs were piled high in the fireplace and there was a steady stream of hot soup and tea from the kitchens. Danny stood back as Mrs Lacy set down her suitcase and unlocked the door.

“Hm,” Mrs Lacy said. “Hm.”

“Is anything the matter, Mrs Lacy?”

Mrs Lacy thought on this for a moment. “You see, I distinctly recall that woman downstairs speaking about twin beds, and, for that matter, confirming the existence of twin beds with Ethel, whoever she is. Do step inside this room and tell me what you see.” 

Curious, Danny went to stand next to Mrs Lacy and peered into the room. It was very neat, as the woman had said, with chequered curtains and a small peat fire in the fireplace. What did not match her description at all was the bed against the righthand wall. It too was exceedingly neat with a plain coverlet and clean white sheets, but it was decidedly one bed, intended for two sleepers. Danny’s cheeks burned. 

“She must have been mistaken,” Mrs Lacy said. “I shall go downstairs and see what they can do. Maybe they can swap our room with someone else’s. There must be something they can do.”

Danny bowed her head as Mrs Lacy turned down the corridor once more. She waited until the decided clunk clunk clunk of Mrs Lacy’s boots on the stairs had faded, then stepped eagerly into the room to stand beside the fire. However long it took Mrs Lacy to rectify the situation was as good an opportunity as any to warm up. Danny set down her bag and held out her hands. She sighed as the warmth of the fire began to envelop her frozen fingertips. She closed her eyes, feeling herself come back to life. 

“There is nothing to be done.” 

Danny whirled around. Mrs Lacy had returned, standing in the doorway with her hands on her hips. 

“It is this or finding another place to sleep and at this rate, every establishment will be completely packed by the time we get there. If only I had some acquaintance here who I could persuade to take us in, but of course, we are in Lancashire. We shall have to make ourselves as comfortable as we can.”

That was that. Mrs Lacy set down her suitcase on the stand at the foot of the bed and began to sort through her things. Danny remained standing by the fireplace, her hands folded. She tried to conceal her horror at this development. To share a room with a woman of Mrs Lacy’s standing — would Rebecca expect her to act as lady’s maid to someone who was not Rebecca? 

Danny kept her mouth shut and her eyes fixed on the floor as Mrs Lacy made herself at home. She followed silently as Mrs Lacy suggested they go in quest of dinner and ate her soup with as little conversation as she could muster. Fortunately, Mrs Lacy did not seem to require any long speeches from her. She seemed happy enough to converse without much back and forth, though more than once Danny found herself the recipient of an amused smile. Danny kept her eyes on her soup, unwilling to interrogate why the gentle curve of Mrs Lacy’s mouth flustered her so much. Finally, Mrs Lacy set down her cup of after-dinner tea and stifled a yawn behind her hand. 

“We had better turn in,” she said. “If they do get the train up and running over night we do not want to miss it.” 

Danny made to rise from her chair, but froze midway. She had carefully avoided thinking about the issue of turning in all afternoon. To share a room with Mrs Lacy was bad enough — there would be no way of avoiding each other in such close quarters — but to share a bed? Danny had not shared a bed with anyone since childhood, and never with a stranger. Maybe she could sleep in the chair next to the bed. Surely Mrs Lacy would be relieved at the suggestion. 

“Are you coming?” Mrs Lacy was halfway across the room already, calling over her shoulder. Danny hurried after her. 

Someone had come to turn down the bed and draw the curtains while they had been at dinner. The fire had been stoked and the lamp on the bedside table turned on. It would have been quite comfortable if Danny had not been so full of dread at what was to come. 

“Well,” Mrs Lacy said, “we had better not dawdle. I will brush my teeth and then we shall see about our sleeping arrangement.” She went over to her suitcase and took out a small bag.

Once Mrs Lacy had gone to find the bathroom down the hall, Danny forced herself to move from her spot by the door. She had left her carpet bag on the chair by the bed. She opened it gingerly, knowing already that she would find nothing but a few essentials. Everything else was neatly folded away in her suitcase and that had been sent up to Scotland along with Rebecca’s luggage. 

By the time Mrs Lacy returned, she was sitting on the edge of the bed, still wearing the dress she had traveled in. 

“You haven’t changed?”

“I have nothing to change into… Madam,” she added quickly. “My suitcase was sent ahead this morning along with Mrs de Winter’s things.” 

“That is unfortunate. You’ll have to borrow something of mine then.”

“I couldn’t possibly,” Danny said decisively.

“Are you sure?”

Danny nodded. 

Mrs Lacy shrugged and turned to her suitcase. Danny averted her eyes as Mrs Lacy took out a nightgown and sat on the edge of the bed to take off her shoes. Remembering that she had brought a toothbrush, Danny stood up from the bed and excused herself to go to the bathroom. Shivering in the draughty room, Danny brushed her teeth. There was no warm water. Her shivers intensified as she washed her face. When she straightened up, her cheeks were bright red. 

Back in the little room, Mrs Lacy had finished changing. She had chosen the left side of the bed and was sitting up with her dressing gown draped around her shoulders. Danny noticed the coverlet, folded carelessly and left on the floor next to Mrs Lacy’s suitcase. 

“I hope you don’t mind my taking this side,” Mrs Lacy said. “I prefer to sleep further away from the door.”

“No, I…” Danny cleared her throat. “I don’t mind at all.” Avoiding Mrs Lacy’s gaze, she went over to the right side of the bed and sat in the chair next to it, folding her hands. 

“You cannot be serious.”

“Madam?”

“Miss Danvers, don’t tell me you mean to sit up all night in that chair?”

Danny opened her mouth, helplessly, but could not think of anything to say. 

“No, that simply will not do,” Mrs Lacy said fiercely. “You will wreck your back and resent me all the way to Scotland. I will not have that.” 

“I wouldn’t resent you.” Danny kept her eyes downcast. “But you must allow that I am doing what is right. You shouldn’t be forced to…”

“Forced? Forced? Miss Danvers, you do not think you are forcing me into anything, do you?”

“No,” Danny conceded, “but the circumstances…”

“My dear girl, if I had truly been outraged by the circumstances, I would have fought much harder to rectify the situation. My pockets might not be as deep as my brothers, but they are most certainly deep enough to find a suitable place to sleep, even in an overcrowded country inn. No, while this is inconvenient, I did not think it worth the effort to turn this whole place on its head merely so I would not have to share a room with my esteemed sister in law’s maid. Now come to bed. You will thank me tomorrow.” 

Unable to form another word of protest, Danny rose from her chair and sat on the edge of the bed. She unhooked her boots and put them closer to the fire to dry. With trembling fingers, she pulled her hair out of its twist and began to comb it with her fingers. There was movement on the other side of the bed. A moment later, Mrs Lacy wordlessly held out her hairbrush. 

“Thank you.” 

Danny wrapped her fingers around the handle of the brush. The dark wood was worn smooth, resting well in her hand. Danny brushed her hair in silence. She could feel Mrs Lacy watching her, it gave her the sensation that her skin was burning all over with a small, but strangely pleasant fire.

Hastily, Danny braided her hair and handed back the brush. 

“Thank you,” she said again. 

“If you wanted to take off your corset for the night,” Mrs Lacy said matter-of-factly, “you would be more than welcome. I won’t look.” 

Would the mortification never end? Moving as quickly as possible, Danny rid herself of the aforementioned undergarment, hastily buttoning up her dress again once it was done. Feeling rather exposed, despite the layers of fabric still covering her, Danny returned to the bed and sat on top of the covers, her back against the wooden headboard. Mrs Lacy raised an eyebrow. 

“Please,” Danny said. “You must allow me at least this. I couldn’t— with someone of your standing, it would be… please, Mrs Lacy, I will be fine.”

“Very well,” Mrs Lacy said patiently. “If you change your mind…”

“Good night, Mrs Lacy.”

“Good night, Miss Danvers.” 

The room sank into silence at once. Mrs Lacy turned onto her side and, with a small huff of exhaustion, was asleep within minutes. Danny sat up in bed, staring now at her hands, now at the fire and more often than not, she was ashamed to admit, at Mrs Lacy. She had often noticed that Mr de Winter’s sister was very handsome. Though his senior by almost a decade, her face had lost none of the youthful mischievousness that smiled down at the visitors of Manderley from pictures painted in Mrs Lacy’s youth. Her eyes were invariably kind, whether she was looking at her brother, Rebecca, or even one of the servants. In sleep, there was something else in her expression, a vulnerability Danny had never seen before. It was difficult to look away. It took an hour for Danny to convince herself that Mrs Lacy would not suddenly wake up and find Danny staring at her. Danny thought she might never look her fill. 

Before going to bed, she had wondered what it would feel like to be trapped in a room like this with Rebecca. Would Rebecca have allowed her to sleep on the bed? Would Rebecca have wanted her to? Danny could not say. Rebecca would not have looked at her the way Mrs Lacy had, though once she was asleep, Danny was certain the situation would have been the same. She would have looked and looked at Rebecca, her face as impenetrable in sleep as it was in waking. She would have warmed Rebecca’s hands during the night, leaning forward in her chair. She would have sat and burned and waited for an invitation that would not come. 

Mrs Lacy rolled over and sighed in her sleep, the covers drawn up almost to her nose. Danny’s back was aching. Moving carefully, so as not to wake Mrs Lacy, she lay down on top of the covers, first on her back and then, relenting, facing the centre of the bed. 

“Good night, Mrs Lacy,” she whispered and, pressing her eyes tight shut, drifted off to sleep. 

Danny awoke shivering. She was curled up on top of the covers, arms wrapped around her chest to trap a warmth that was not there. Her muscles felt sore from the cold. How long had she been shaking in her sleep. Danny did not notice the hand on her shoulder until it gave a gentle squeeze. She gasped in shock and turned around to find Mrs Lacy sitting up in bed with her arm outstretched. 

“Miss Danvers,” Mrs Lacy said groggily. “You’ll catch your death.” 

“Let me j-just—” Her teeth were chattering so intensely she had to break off and start again. “I will rekindle the fire.” 

“There’s nothing here to rekindle it with.”

“That f-feels like an oversight.” 

Mrs Lacy held up the bedcovers. “I would prefer if you did not freeze to death under my supervision. Rebecca would never forgive me.” 

Danny shook her head, weakly. 

“Miss Danvers, what does it matter who I am or why we are here? You can barely speak for shivering. Don’t be a fool and we will never discuss this night again.”

Danny’s eyes darted from Mrs Lacy to the empty grate and back again. It could not have been past three in the morning. It would be hours before she could go down and ask for their fire to be lit. Mrs Lacy tugged at the bedcovers, her face expectant. 

It did not feel like defeat, slipping under the covers next to Mrs Lacy. Danny was much too cold to feel anything but relief. Even under the covers, her muscles would not stop twitching. 

“There now,” Mrs Lacy said gently. She pulled up the covers to cover Danny’s shoulders, then took her dressing gown from the foot of the bed and piled it on top of Danny as well, rubbing her arm through the layers of fabric. “There now,” she said again. “That’s much better, isn’t it?”

Danny could not reply. She was beginning to feel warmer under the covers, too comfortable and exhausted to speak. Mrs Lacy seemed to understand. She lay back down, facing Danny and closed her eyes. Danny expected her to withdraw her hand now, but it stayed where it was, gently brushing along her arm.