#sideeffectsofwriting

[yukipri]

On what her crew wants to see Mer!Luffy wear:

In response to an ask from @sideeffectsofwriting:

1) What do each crew members or even others like seeing Luffy wearing? Or want her to dress up in?

Thanks so much again for sending this in! Here’s the thoughts of some of the crew, up to around Alabasta:

Ace: Honestly doesn’t usually think too much about clothing for Luffy, since he knows she doesn’t care about it much. Ace likes accessorizing, but knows from experience that Luffy is very prone to breaking/losing most things she can wear. It’s only after he sees Luffy try on his necklace, and sees Nami pick out clothes for Luffy in Ace’s colors that he thinks...Oh, oh, that’s actually really nice...He kinda doesn’t know how to put it into words though and feels weirdly confused/embarrassed when he thinks about it, so he mostly just shrugs. (everyone else on the crew: you’re feeling possessive, that’s what that feeling is, Ace)

Sabo: Unashamed and very open about liking it when Luffy wears his clothes. She’s basically swimming in his tunic, and it reeks “Boyfriend Shirt,” which he’s very proud of (Ace looks painfully interested in this look, and Sabo sighs and explains to his brother that in order to experience the Boyfriend Shirt, Ace must, in fact, first have a shirt for Lu to wear). He likes her in most other things too, from her usual vest to the cute and/or sometimes sexy things Nami picks out, but Sabo admits to being partial to wearing matching things. He’s the type to very proudly wear matching couple outfits (of course he’ll get one for Ace too, the three of them must do everything together after all), and he drinks the tears of jealous rivals with his tea.

Thatch: He kinda feels lame having an answer like this, when honestly Luffy’s cute in everything, she’s kinda his definition of cute...but since this is specifically asking for a preference: he likes seeing her in bikini tops. She’s a mermaid after all, can’t really wear much on the bottom, and there’s something exceptionally romantic about her wearing something that sings to the more traditional “Mermaid” aesthetic, and it’s a nice gap from her usual outfits. So many cute bras out there to compliment her gorgeous crimson tail, and lovingly embrace her lovely assets...He would also be very, very interested in seeing her in something a little more mature like lingerie but knows Ace would have his head so is wisely keeping his mouth shut.

Deuce: He’d say he doesn’t care, but that’s a cop out so...he’s gonna say it makes him feel weirdly more aware of her when she’s wearing more normal, concealing clothes, like a shirt. Maybe because he’s used to Whitebeard’s nurses being all over him, but the usual “sexy ladies” look doesn’t really do much for him, and he also kinda shrugs off visible cleavage like Lu’s regular very open vest. But there’s something about seeing her in a casual shirt, looking like a normal girl and not an extremely powerful pirate, the hint of her body through the way it stretches the fabric that...well. Ace, stop glaring.

Zoro: He likes how Luffy looks after a victorious battle. He always feels this feral pride when he sees her as the dust settles, her clothes ripped, shallow cuts and bruises visible on her bared skin, muscles shifting with restless energy as she comes down from an adrenaline high despite her eyes still being alert. It reminds him why he chose to follow her, and it’s hot. (Sanji: that isn’t a clothing preference!!!)

Sanji: Sanji wants to say a lot of things here, because he has a lot of thoughts about how adorable Luffy would look in a variety of things, including but not limited to a bikini (what, that’s already been said?!), a maid outfit, a school girl uniform, a dancer outfit, a wedding dress--but, because he’s never had the honor of seeing any of those...he admits he has a weak spot for seeing Luffy in clothes stained by food that Sanji cooked. Which, okay, objectively he knows that it’s pretty nasty, but she’s such a messy eater and...it makes him feel sickeningly warm inside, to see all this evidence of how much she enjoyed his work, and then being able to get close to tenderly wipe it clean, all while she looks content and full...

Nami: In a crew full of uncivilized men, and poor Luffy who grew up surrounded by them, of course Nami has to take it upon herself to introduce her to fashion. And of course Nami thinks Luffy should wear what she wants! But, her captain’s apparently never worn a bra, and doesn’t know anything about having proper support for her chest, and okay fine she’s rubber so maybe she doesn’t need it but...Nami doesn’t so much have a particular type of clothing she wants to see Luffy wear, but she DOES very much enjoy when Luffy wears things that Nami’s picked out for her, because Nami puts a lot of thought into what things she knows Luffy would look amazing in, and what she hopes Luffy will also find comfortable enough to wear. Nami likes it when she sees Luffy look jaw-dropping gorgeous because it’s what Nami coordinated for her, and yes there is a lot of undeniable very personal possessiveness, but also, gentlemen, she’ll take those tips now thank you...

Usopp: He was going to say he strongly prefers to pass on this question, as he only ever Looks Very Respectfully and look ok he doesn’t want reason for the Terrifying Big Brothers give him Scary Glares...but actually, y’know what, he does having something he thinks Lu looks really great in. He drew and designed the ASL Pirates jolly roger, y’know? And Luffy once casually mentioned that she really likes it, and it makes her feel so awesome and proud of her crew, and it’d be cool to see it on other things too...so the next island they stopped at, Usopp grabbed some fabric paint, and whipped up a shirt with the jolly roger and a few little artistic details. And Luffy’s face when he handed it to her, and she tried it on...That’s a good memory, one that he doubts he’ll ever forget.

Chopper: Chopper’s still learning about merfolk, and he knows frustratingly little about them and is constantly pushing himself to learn more so his lack of knowledge never ends up putting him in a situation where he can’t properly treat Luffy. But one thing he’s always so worried about, is how cold Luffy gets. He already feels kinda concerned for humans in general, they’re all so hairless! But Luffy gets especially cold, and seems to be partially cold blooded and gets chilled super easily when she’s not active and, as a mammal with a very thick and warm coat, Chopper’s always so worried that she’ll get too cold, especially when she sleeps. So it really reassures him when he sees her bundled up in something thick and fluffy, like a fur coat, because she seems like she could really use it.

Koala: Koala would love to see Luffy wearing some more traditional Fishman Island outfits. Koala knows Luffy knows basically nothing about her heritage, and doesn’t want to force it on her but--Fishman Island is so incredibly dear to Koala, and she knows how beautiful and vibrant the culture is. She knows Luffy would look stunning in mermaid dancer outfits, mermaid prayer outfits, mermaid formalwear, anything and everything that was specifically designed for her people...and not just the feminine things too! Luffy would look amazing in fishman karate gear just as much. It’s a mix of both Koala really, really appreciating the aesthetic mental image, but also the representation of Luffy learning more about Fishman Island.

Vivi: Vivi knows very specifically what she ideally would like to see Luffy wear, because she gave it to her already. Or rather, she put it inside Sabo’s bag the night before the ASL pirates fled Alabasta, with a note that it’s for Luffy, fully aware that the more careful older brother would hold on to it for her until there’s an appropriate occasion. It’s a traditional Alabasta outfit--specifically, a royal one. In fact, pulled from Vivi’s own wardrobe, and she knows it’s only meant to be worn by royalty, but she wanted Luffy to have it, and knows her father would support her, after all Luffy and their crew did for Alabasta. It’s an outfit not unlike the one Vivi wore when she waved at the crew as they disappeared--but in crimson and gold, with hues of rose, and Vivi couldn’t help but associate it with Luffy. She knows Luffy will look amazing in it, and knows that the world will know that Luffy has Alabasta’s support should she ever choose to wear it in public.

❀ ❀ Send YukiPri an Ask! ❀ ❀

~This ask has been added to the Mermaid AU Text Headcanons Compilation post~

[rainbowsparroww]

"Damian hissed back the pain as Alfred finished treating his wounds. "I must say, Master Damian, this isn't one of your finest moments."

He grimaced leaning further back on the chair, "Not another word Pennyworth. I am not in the mood."

-Damitim Week (by sideeffectsofwriting)

[homoethics]

Your still writing what you might have been!? I'm so happy to hear that! I always come back to that fic, I just love it so much. I was worried since it hasn't been updated in 2 years. I'm glad to see you are fine and it's not abandoned. Take all the time you need! I hope you have a great day

P.S Your fic is the only time I like William Reid.

Oh, wow, this ask means SO much to me. I got a lot of William Reid hate in the comments, which is totally understandable and I don't mind it at all! But I WAS trying to make William Reid a slightly softer character and maybe set up future interactions between Spencer and his dad, so hearing that even one reader was a fan of that portrayal means so, so, so much to me.

I am still writing "What You Might Have Been"! Progress is very, very slow. I have about five episodes left to get through before I can post Chapter 4. Here, you can have a very brief preview if you want!

He stirred at last at a horrific smell, something pungent and sour. His head pounded--concussion, the dizziness and dull, pulsing pain was familiar from when he’d gotten knocked on his ass in New York--and he struggled to lift his head or peel back his eyelids and look around. When he finally got himself upright and his eyes open, he knew, immediately, that the team had not found him in that cornfield.

He was in a shack. Rotting boards, dust thick on the surfaces. Woodstove in the corner from which that stench was coming. His hands were in steel police-issue handcuffs in front of him. That was good, at least--the position, not the handcuffs. He struggled to slip them, but he blinked and his fingers had drifted out of position. He wouldn’t be of much use to anyone until the wooziness went away.

He closed his eyes and let himself drift.

[miss-choco-chips]

Rule: Post the last line you’ve written and tag as many people as there are words in that line.

Tagged by: @marudny-robot thanks!

-I think I did okay -muttered Bart sullenly.

Tagging @the-quiet-carrotcake @elecilaombre @animemangasoul @iphoenixrising @sideeffectsofwriting and @roseperthorns ... I’m short of two people. Let’s imagine Bart isn’t sullen lol

[starcrossedjedis]

Tarlesyn Sand & Sansa Stark // A Tale of Sand and Snow [Game of Thrones]

“I used to go by the name of Alayne Stone after fleeing from King’s Landing.” Sansa’s head was resting on his chest, her hand playing gently with the soft hair at the nape of his neck. She sighed. “She kept me save. Made me stronger. Bolder. Tonight I wish I was her.”

“Don’t say that”, Tarlesyn replied softly. He pressed a kiss to the crown of her head. “I know no one who is as strong and as bold as Sansa Stark. Or anyone who is as kind and as gentle. And this Dornishman would not have fallen for anyone but her...”

tag list <3 - @missjanuarylily, @perfectlystiles, @chuck-hansens, @ohhitherekate, @isaaclahys, @demisucks, @simplytruee, @sideeffectsofwriting, @kylorenvevo

When the Ruling Prince of Dorne appoints Tarlesyn Sand, the only bastard son of Oberyn Martell and Ellaria Sand, as ambassador to the newly independant Kingdom of The North, the cunning young man is less than thrilled. A son of sand and heat is not cut out for the bitter cold of winter and there are hundreds of places in the now Six Kingdoms that he would rather be exploring.

But when he arrives at Winterfell and meets the beautiful young Queen, Tarlesyn finds that there might be something about the North that he could love…

[lemonpeter]

@sideeffectsofwriting I love that. And I'll totally start working on it.

Sorry I couldn't respond on the post, pains of being on a side blog

[ao3feed-timdrake]

Damitim Week

read it on the AO3 at https://ift.tt/2DGAiLg

by sideeffectsofwriting

So I decided to participate in this year's DamiTim week!

Day 1: Arranged Marriage/Marriage Day 2: A/B/O Day 3: Forced Bond/Bonded Together Day 4: Civilian Tim Au Day 5: Marked/Claiming ll Secret Crush Day 6: Caught ll Courtship/Courting Day 7: Jealousy ll First Love

Words: 1239, Chapters: 1/?, Language: English

Fandoms: Batman - All Media Types

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences

Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings

Categories: M/M

Characters: Tim Drake, Damian Wayne, Alfred Pennyworth, Tam Fox, Stephanie Brown

Relationships: Tim Drake/Damian Wayne

Additional Tags: Arranged Marriage, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence

read it on the AO3 at https://ift.tt/2DGAiLg

[miss-choco-chips]

Damn this is difficult hahaha. Not in order! I love all my sons equally

1. Tim Drake (DC)

2. Stiles Stilinski (Teen Wolf)

3. Lance McClain (Voltron)

4. Adam Parrish (The Raven Cycle)

5. Oikawa Tooru (Haikyuu!)

6. Kuroko Tetsuya (Kuroko no basket)

7. L (Death Note)

8. Tony Stark (Marvel)

9. Roman Sanders (Sanders Sides)

10. Saber (Fate Stay Night/ Fate Zero)

Ummm i'll tag @animemangasoul @elecilaombre And @sideeffectsofwriting

10 Character Tag Game

Rules: tag ten favorite characters from ten different fandoms

I was tagged by @calliopinot (thanks callie!) and i took way longer than i should have

1.- Jason Todd aka Red Hood (dc universe)

2.- Skwisgaar Skwigelf (Metalocalyspe)

3.- Dohko Libra (Saint Seiya, Lost Canvas. I like the LC version more though)

4.- Bakugou Katsuki (Boku no Hero Academia)

5.- Jolyne Kujo (Jojo's Bizarre Adventure, Stone Ocean)

6.- Denna (Kingkiller Chronicles)

7.- Elric of Melnibone (from Michael Moorcock's multiverse)

8.- Lagertha (Vikings)

9.- Casca (Berserk. No potato Casca, Golden Age Casca)

10.- Tisis Malargos (Lightbringer saga by Brent Weeks. (dont ever get me talking about her i wont shut up))

Aaaaand ill tag @toflyinreverse @thefightingfangirl @boyblunder-thedarkheir @soimafangirl2341 @graaaaceeliz @forestsama @dysfunctionalbatfam @workingchemistry

[yukipri]

Ah ok, first of all I Iove your Mermaid Au! I keep rereading it over and over cause oooo! It's so good! So I have two questions for that Au. It's fine if you can't answer I understand. 1. What do each crew members or even others like seeing Luffy wearing? Or want her to dress up in? 2. Regarding Sabo does he figure out faster that his feeling for Luffy are more then brotherly and if so does he use his advantage as brother to get away with more PDA and generally being a jerk and rubbing it in.

Hey there! Thanks so much for sending this in, your thoughts were a joy to read! My sincerest apologies for taking some time to get back to you! ^ ^;

Before I start off, if I could make one quick little request, and this is something general for everyone not just directed at you: I’d really appreciate if separate questions can be sent in separate asks!

This is especially true if the questions are the kind you’d like a long headcanon response to. It often takes me hours to write/edit my responses to these kinds of asks, and I like being able to link them to my masterposts so followers can find and read them later! And not everyone wants to pick through a long ask + ask response in order to just read the part they’re interested in ^ ^; It therefore makes my task so much easier, but also more worthwhile to take my time writing out and organizing my thoughts when asks about different topics are broken up. After all, if I spend a really long time thinking about and writing something, I’d really like people to be able to find and enjoy it later!

Likewise, it can take me a while to find enough time to answer a long string of asks, or maybe I don’t know how to respond to one or more parts, which will delay my response to the whole thing. For separate asks, I can just go ahead and answer the parts I DO have answers to, and take my time thinking about the others. If you have 20 separate questions--that’s totally okay! That’s amazing, and I’m incredibly grateful! It’d be awesome if you could send 20 separate asks, I promise I will never be annoyed about getting a ton of asks, even if it’s all from the same person ^ ^; (if some questions are all kinda about the same topic though, you can keep them together! Just imagine whether or not I would be able to summarize the post in a one sentence “On something or other” title ^ ^; ) Hope this explanation makes sense, and thank you so much in advance!

Okay! That being said, moving on, will try to answer your questions as best I can!

1) What do each crew members or even others like seeing Luffy wearing? Or want her to dress up in?

I think this is a FANTASTIC question, and one I really would like to respond to! But i doubt anyone will read it if I put it here, so I hope you don’t mind me responding to it in a separate post!

2) Regarding Sabo and his feelings:

Please keep reading the Marco’s Bauble story series, it’ll come up there! ^ ^

~~

Your Part 2 Questions regarding the “If Ace Died” AUs

(which you can read:

👒Response to: How do you think the ASL brothers would change if it was Ace that was separated and Sabo stayed with Luffy on Dawn Island?

👒Follow up: On how Ace would regain his memories, Pirates Route)

First lemme note that I don’t really consider these full “AUs,” certainly not ones I’m actively working on, they’re more like little incomplete thought dumps. So I don’t really have particularly organized thoughts about them, nor can I really answer about them in too much detail because I haven’t built them up like I have with the Mermaid AU, and don’t really have anywhere I’m going with them at the moment (and unfortunately I currently don’t have the time or mental energy to do so >.<;).

I’ve gone back over the posts and have a few random thoughts that may or may not fully answer your questions, but I can make a follow up post in the near future for both the Marine and Royalty scenarios. But, they are two separate AUs, on separate topics, and that is too much text for this one ask response, so I hope you don’t mind me making separate posts for them!

I know my response to most of your questions was basically “let me talk about it later,” but I hope my explanation why I like talking about separate topics on separate posts makes sense!

Thank you so much again for sending these in, I hope I haven’t discouraged you at all because I really did love getting your asks, and so sincerely appreciate you enjoying my works and taking the time to come talk to me! I’ll try to get up one response tonight ^ ^;

❀ ❀ Send YukiPri an Ask! ❀ ❀

[rainbowsparroww]

"The black armour lord Wayne wears that strikes fear in his enemies giving him the moniker, the Bat. The embodiment of his house words, We Are the Night."

-Damitim Week (by sideeffectsofwriting)

[ao3feed-strangerthings]

The Adventures of Will Byers

read it on the AO3 at https://ift.tt/2V6vQiY

by sideeffectsofwriting

A series of drabbles centered around Will and whatever my brain comes up with.

Words: 307, Chapters: 1/?, Language: English

Fandoms: Stranger Things (TV 2016), Brightburn (2019)

Rating: General Audiences

Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings

Categories: Gen, M/M

Characters: Will Byers, Brandon Breyer

Relationships: Will Byers & Brandon Breyer

Additional Tags: Will Byers-centric, Will Byers Needs a Hug, Will Byers Has Powers

read it on the AO3 at https://ift.tt/2V6vQiY

[miss-choco-chips]

End of the year tag!

Thank you @the-quiet-carrotcake ❤❤❤

Best Holiday: errr for me it'd be Christams Eve? Because after working a ten hour shift at work I got to go home with family I haven't seen in a while. Also, don't know if this counts, but my birthday? Cause two close friends I love but that hate each other made the effort and both came to spend it with me, despite their differences. It reminded me how much they love me and made me all mushy.

Best thing you ate: ummm i guess that time I went out with a friend and we had tacos, cheddar potatoes and then chocolate volcan for dessert. It was awesome.

Best experience this year: met awesome people, both in chat and out of it, and did some things out of my comfort zone that surprised me with being actually nice.

Best thing you learnt: I think that this year was really bad to my anxiety for the most part, so those moments where I could relax or talk with people that might feel the same and sympathise? Don't know if this counts.

Best thing you did/make: I think start posting more fics here. English is my second language, and for the most part I'm self taught (only some classes at school but not after I turned 13, after that I was on my own with learning it), so I'm really self conscious with it, people that talk to me on chat know this hahaha. So posting things made me really nervous, but once I did it, it felt awesome, sharing this nagging ideas that wouldn't leave me alone. It was nice😊

Something you're proud of: the above?? Also I had a Final's week of hell back on July, where for some reasons I had to take all six finals on the same week, on top of work and other responsibilities, and I got top marks on all?? I'm still shocked. Last final's week was hell too, but less hardcore I think? So that week on July.

Also, gathering the courage to speak to new people on chat here, met some awesome people

Tagging: @animemangasoul @the-sky-is-a-lie @sideeffectsofwriting and @iphoenixrising

thanks @thenerdybonbon

END OF YEAR TAG

Best holiday: is it cheating to say Christmas? maybe it’s because it’s the most clear in my mind, but it was actually quite nice. I haven’t seen my whole family in like, sixish months, so just getting together was really good :)

Best thing you ate: my friend @sweeterthansuga and I found a vegan restaurant that does pay what you want nights on the last Wednesday of every month, and we had some really nice food that we wouldn’t have otherwise ate

Best experience this year: finally playing d&d! honestly, the happiest times I’ve had this year have been had while playing d&d, I usually laugh really, really hard at least one per session. 

Best thing you learnt: um. that I can live without any family and budget well enough that I have enough money to pay my bills and never go hungry for like … too long lmao

Best thing you did/made: I am super proud of what I’ve written this year, it’s definitely been my most productive

Something you’re proud of: uh, fuck, see above, haha? I’m always happiest when I’m regularly being creative, and writing these vignettes for this blog is a low stress, instant dopamine kind of thing. I also participated in two different fic exchanges and am very happy with what I’ve produced, after ages of looking at various exchanges and being consumed with longing, haha

tagging: @whumpbby @scandalsavagefanfic @primeemeraldheiress @the-quiet-carrotcake @wrongblacksun and anyone else

[miss-choco-chips]

Soul shards part 2

This isn’t edited in the slightest folks. Wrote this in a LONG car ride and I’m beat. Tumblr was being difficult and wouldn’t let me copy an paste so I had to copy every individual paragraph, so there might be some mistakes.

Shoutout to @sideeffectsofwriting who suggested damitim and kicked the muse into motion and @the-quiet-carrotcake who let me cry about this on chat.

.-.-.-

He needed to do what not even the Batman could achieve.  

He would bring Drake back.

-.-.-.-

11  - 16

Damian’s first gifted soulshard came from his mother, when he turned five. It was a beautiful orange-red dagger, with flecks of gold here and there, and he wanted to hold it more than anything in the world.

Then his mother put it in his hand, closed his fingers around it and held a kitten by the scruff and hind legs in front of him, as an offering. An order. A mission. And, once it was carried, the slightest hint of satisfaction in her eyes.

Those were the feelings the dagger was imbued with; expectation, and pride. Not for who he was, but for what he did. A heavy weight, and a cold one, right until the moment the mission was complete; after that, a short-lived warmth crept up his arm, the starting point the dagger in his hand.

Or maybe it was the kitten’s blood what chased the cold (and his sleep) away. It should have been comforting.

It wasn’t.

When Grayson chose him as his Robin, he sealed the deal by giving Damian an R shaped soul shard in the form of a brooch. It should have been an ecstatic moment for him, his second ever soul shard being gifted to him by his Batman.

It wasn’t. 

While warmer and lighter than his dagger, it felt… off. Their bond was just growing then, no trust nor love giving shape to the soul given away. Instead, Damian was presented with Grayson’s feelings of responsibility (to the city), despair (because they both have just lost their father) and reluctant resignation (because even when Grayson choose him, it was obviously not what he wanted, it couldn’t be, not when there was already a Robin fully indoctrinated in The Mission perfectly available and… more loved), as well as the barest hint of hopeful fondness.

He doesn’t hold it against him; that was just their beginning, and it was the gesture what was important, a gift from the soul that Damian hadn’t yet earned, a trust at giving himself away to the child he had just decided to take under his wing. Were Grayson to give him a new soul shard, he was sure the feelings wouldn’t be so harsh now that they had formed and nurtured this bond between them. Still, he treasured his brooch for what it was: a chance to prove himself, a chance at a home.

Drake’s soul (not a shard, not a piece, but the remainings of his actual soul; his core) was an entirely new phenomenon. The moment he received it, clenched it in his hands for the first time, it was imbued with a rage and contempt that didn’t surprise him, as those were the grounds of their relationship. But, with every passing minute, the feeling just… calmed down, like… forgiveness? Acceptance? It was like a pat on the back after a hard patrol with Grayson, after he made a mistake and the man would just sigh and tell him ‘do better next time, but let’s just put this behind us’. But… from Drake?

It- that was- there weren’t actual words to explain it. Damian had never heard of it, of a change on the emotions inside the soul, but, he supposes, this wasn’t something Drake had sharded with an idea in mind, this wasn’t a love confession or a methaporical friendly hug. Drake had just… given himself away, entirely.

Damian wasn’t sure what it meant, but the mystery of that pushed him relentlessly to the batcave, to the monitors where he would watch and rewatch old footage of Drake’s training, read old reports, dig as deep as he could in search of information that might clear things up for him.

That might explain the clench in his heart when he held the tiny soul.

.-.-.-.

He is missing.

Bruce can’t process it at first. He has every camera, every metahuman, every genius hero at his disposal… and nothing.  No one could find Tim, and he’s been gone for over a week. Seven days and twelve hours, if he was counting. Which he was, because seeing the pretty ice blue watch on his wrist, warm with admiration, respect and adoration, slowly turning cold and red and black was high on the list of the scariest moments of his life. 

He was holding his son’s soul, soon it wouldn’t feel any different than the Rolex he might wear for a charity.

It terrified him.

The only piece of Tim’s soul he could find (and it had taken him a while, to track down everyone Tim ever gave a shard to, even going so far as to dig Janet and Jack’s graves, because there were so many pieces; too many, although his Titans friends had flat out rejected his request to give them to him) to remain icy blue was Damian’s. Which would be fantastic for testing, for figuring out what was wrong, maybe even for tracking Tim down…  If Damian weren’t so dead set on keeping it in his direct line of sight, on the little leather pouch by his hip or dangling from his neck.

The twelve year old had proven willing to stab any hand that tried to take his soul shard away, accepting only those tests that were safe and could be made in front of his eyes.

-We could try to, like… mesh my piece of soul with Damian’s? -had suggested Dick, once, earlier on the week.

-And how, pray tell, would you do it? Drake himself is the one that shaped your necklace. This are his soul shards, no one but him can bend them to their will. 

-I mean… Cass’s father, Cain, he made dents and bumps in her soul, so it’s not like its impossible…

-…after years of abuse, from which her soul has yet to recover! Of all the stupid/!

Dick, on very little sleep and with worry and guilt battling it out inside his heart, rolled his eyes at Damian’s objections.

-We won’t hurt him for the hell of it, but he could be in danger, or lost, or who knows what! There’s little to no precedent about soulless people. Since when do you care so much about Tim’s wellbeing, anyway?

-And since when do you *not*?

That had ended the argument quickly. Guilt had won in Dick. Damian’s gifted little piece of soul remained at it’s pouch.  And Tim was still missing.

Bruce wanted to pull at his hair, yell and throw fists. He did none of these. Damian needed him. He had already failed one son.

.-.-.-.

12  - 17 

Life goes on, after a tragedy. And this tragedy in particular was a silent one; there was no blood, no screaming, no tears. Just someone that left it all behind and disappeared on the wind. And, as much as the Bats wanted to find him, Tim going on a solo trip wasn’t alarming enough for them to ignore the day to day dangers of Gotham, the multiverse threats, the alien invasions. As concerning as multiple soul shards changing color and losing emotion had been, the fact remained that it… just wasn’t priority.

Timothy could look after himself; the civilians of Gotham and the world at large couldn’t.   At least, that was what father said.

Damian was of a different mind.

He noticed it at first during a Justice League meeting. He had taken to playing around with the little ice blue ball when lost in thought, or was nervous, a habit developed after hours, days and months sitting by the cave’s monitors studying his predecessor.

So there he was, idly rolling it between his fingers, careful to not drop it, when he catches sight of Superboy…

(The Titans were a mess, Wonder Girl, SB and Impulse running around like headless chickens, dropping everything, no matter how mission-important, at the slightest mention of anything Red Robin related, recruiting the help of old fiends from their Young Justice days, hurting so much not even him, usually indifferent to his peers’ drama, could remain untouched by their pain) 

…being scolded by Superman. Which, would normally not even phase Damian, impartial about the clone outside of his relationship with Drake as he was.

But. But. When Superman layed a condescending hand on Kon El’s shoulder, something spiked inside Damian, a sudden and strong desire to slap that hand away, to growl at the man, to protect his/ 

…his best friend?  

That thought it’s what gives him pause, stops him mid step, where he was unthinkingly approaching the aliens. 

Those weren’t his feelings, but Drake’s.

At the realization, the little soul in his hand glowed and warmed and almost jumped right out of it.  It seemed to say ‘finally’.

Damian couldn’t breath.

.-.-.-.

He kept quiet about this new knowledge, but it nagged at him. He had to test this out. 

He held the small soul while watching Grayson train by the Cave’s trapeze. Rolled it between fingers with little to no trouble while covertly listening to Cain and Brown tease each other. Made a protective fist around it when he stumbled across Red Hood during patrol, catching the -now reformed- antiheroe mid flight. 

Admiration and yearning (teach me, choose me, love me).

Fondness and familiarity (bond with me, laugh with me, stand by me).

Trepidation and want (please look at me, please stop hating me, please let me watchadmirelove you). 

Those weren’t his feelings, so. Confirmed then. Holding Drake’s soul, he apparently had an open door to the man’s feelings. An insight to the deepest parts of him. 

Weeks into his discovery, he learned a few things. For example, how annoyingly emotional the young man was. Did Drake always feel everything this intensely? It was exhausting, and Damian at least had the option to put the soul away at it’s pouch, stopping the flow of emotions. Drake… well, he did leave it behind, after all. 

Which made him wonder, if he had Drake’s emotions at hand, what did it leave his predecessor with?

.-.-.-.-.-.

13  - 18

It pained Damian to admit this, but Drake was… good. Too good. Unbelievable so, for someone that started his formal training way later in life than Damian.  

The footage in front of him was one he had viewed already dozens of times, and he still couldn’t believe his eyes. A gift requested to his mother, footage from the Cradle, about two years before.  

At first, Damian had just wanted to uncover the mystery of Drake’s time away during Father’s absence. What happened during those months, to drive one like his Gradfather from mild admiration to almost obsessive, possessive desire? What elevated the, by the time, teenager to a spot previously occupied by none other than The Batman, and even beyond? 

His in into the League allowed him access to the answer. And he understood.  The mixture of recklessly brave plans, creatively executed acrobatics, heart-stopping genius and iron clad morals. Fighting against the Spiders, protecting the innocent at his back, all the while under tight schedule on his plan to land an unprecedented hard blow to the League.  

It was breathtaking. The young detective, that unmasked the man many believed was no more than a myth, the novice hero that when told ‘no’ started his own team of fighters, that while no one else thought it possible defied Death itself for the life of his adoptive father. Barely older than Damian himself, with half his years of training, and still so far away. Leagues ahead of him. 

Out of his reach… 

A grimace,  an unfamiliar tightness in his chest and then Damian was cracking his knuckles and typing away at the computer.  If his Grandfather viewed Drake above Father, then maybe Damian was going about this the wrong way, in his quest to surpass every Robin before him. He needed to succeed where even Father had failed, reaching to a step below Drake instead of the entire flight of stairs he had ahead of him.

  …but not for long.  

He needed to do what not even the Batman could achieve.  

He would bring Drake back.

.-.-.-.-.

It takes some time. He studies for weeks under Gordon, shadows Cyborg’s steps for a while, even declines patrol once or twice claiming a stomachache when he feels he’s close to a clue. Has the Titans permanently hacked (props of connecting from the Batcave’s computer, no one questioned the backdoor on their system, assumed it was Batman checking on them) and an alert programmed on his phone for every time some reporter catches sight of the Drake-Wayne heir (none so far, but, like a voice that sounded like Grayson singsonged, cover all your bases).  

And even after all of that, it was still Drake himself that pointed him in the right direction.  

Damian was idly scrolling down some online headlines, mind numb with tiredness barely paying attention to the titles, when the little soul between his forefinger and thumb gave him a spark, so sudden it was like an electric shock, sapping him out of it and forcing his attention to the article on screen. 

Serial killer known as The Gardener found tied in the front lawn of his supposed next victims, after seven months evading the Parisian police force. Family claims they never saw nor heard anything until the morning, when the father was about to head for work and stumbled across the handcuffed man, hand clutching his signature weapon, unconscious and still bleeding from, what the police assumes, was a short lived fight… 

The soul pulsed again. Disgust, rage, adrenaline… pride, vindictive pride. The same emotions that soared through him when a would be rapist fell to his sword during patrol. 

Quick eyes scanning through the article, nothing pointing towards a vigilante, no pattern that he could see pointing to his missing predecessor. And still, Damian knew.

Energy renewed, he scanned through older news, titles. Nothing sparked the soul, until a thwarted robbery on Scotland gave him pause. Again, the article itself was generic, no common points except the mystery of whoever stopped the crime from happening, but… his gut, and Drake’s gut, they were both screaming at him.  

This was him. What was he doing on Paris? Was he still there? Two articles, separated by a few weeks, was more of a clue than anyone had found this far, but it was still nothing. And the last one, with the Serial Killer, was from two days ago. Even if he told Father and he dispatched a velocist or super, it’d still be too  late. Drake wouldn’t have been able to evade them this long if he iddled long somewhere. Sighing tiredly he fell back into the chair, raising the little soul so it was eye level.

After all this time, after all his training, after all of father’s efforts to track his wayward son, it was proved only Drake could find Drake. A little, sleep deprived smile broke his scowl.  

He was too tired to feel frustration.

Not too much for admiration, though.

.-.-.-.-.

That same night, oceans away, a slim figure dealt the finishing blow to some wannabe gangsters on a upper class Venetian neighbour. They had been armed, but only the slightest of scratches decorated his arm. The other guys… weren’t so lucky. They’d be lucky if their broken ribs didn’t pierce a lung.  

The scared girls that he saved from being jumped (or worse) rushed forward once their attackers hit the ground, sobbing between their heartfelt thanks and praises. Trembling hands reaching for his cap-less back, the slippery material of his dark shirt slipping from their fingers. Still, he carefully moved out of range and tonelessly told them to call for the police, letting them comfort each other and waiting only until he could hear the sirens approaching. Then, he was gone, lost to the night that had spited him out to fight the treath minutes before.  

On the back of his mind, something told him he should be annoyed. He had been good to keep himself out of the media’s attention, dealing with crimes where no one would be able to pinpoint exactly who had been their saviour, or how had they been spared from the danger. Like the Parisian family. Now that was a clean work. Found the killer, guessed his next target and caught him just before the crime. In, fight, out. Easy, untraceable.

Two scared girls might not have the clearest memories of their traumatic attack, but ‘young, black clothed man fights off gangsters with a staff’ would surely make the headlines, which meant hailing ass as far from here as possible before anyone could trace this back to him.  

People tracking him raised in his gut… the closest thing to emotions he had nowadays (something he hadn’t been bothered with for years now), namely annoyance. He had a goal in mind, rules he played by, things to avoid. Having all that endangered was troublesome, and even worse was how inevitable it was. He couldn’t exactly ignore the crying girls, not because he cared, but his body always moved on its own on situations like this, personal preferences overrode by muscle memory.

How inconvenient.

And speaking of…

He barely nodded in acknowledgement when a shadowed figure fell into step besides him, keeping up on his sprint from rooftop to rooftop.

-My Master wishes to extend an invitation to dinner. He demands your company.  

Not Pru then, but not so different from what he expected.

He hummed, for show more than anything else, eyeing the leather pouch by the man’s hip. A Soul Carrier, nothing flashy but firmly attached. Classic League.

The shadow flinched. They all did. Something in his lack of soul scared them shitless when he payed attention to theirs, as if he would snatch them and steal away with it.

Ha. Please. He didn’t even want his own soul back, why in hell would he take theirs? He’d never feel lighter before.

And even if sometimes the emptiness inside made him eye with attention the knife he carried on his boot as a last resort, those moments were few and easily forgotten.

-Depends. Is he ready to pay for the pleasure of it? It’s been a while, I’m on need of cash and resources, so my fee has gone up.  

A moment of silence while the shadow listened on his earpiece for his answer. Then, a nod.

-Okay then. Tell him to send me directions to the place once I’m out of this country. And that if he wants me to wear something pretty, he better chose a nice, camera-less place. Also, if he doesn’t keep his hands to himself, he’ll need one of those shiny green pools of his to regrow a few fingers.

.-.-.-.-.

14  - 19

Todd’s emergency beacon called from Tokyo, interrupting their post patrol debrief. Father had programmed all their distress signals so they would always come through, no matter what else was doing on or what Do not Disturb protocols he might have. Nothing would get in the way to saving his sons ever again.  

When they answered, tense and (in Damian’s case, reluctantly) worried, it was to the sounds of heavy breathing and clang of metal against metal. A fight.

-/ing hell! Fuck! Goddamned little/ anyone copy me?!

Father, cowless but every bit the Batman, pressed a finger against the keyboard and dropped his voice am octave. 

-Red Hood, here cave, we copy you. What’s the situation?

The sounds of fighting never stopped, and whatever could keep Hood on his toes like this and forced him to call for help was enough to have Damian reaching for his Soul Carrier, where two different (in size and colorthen) spheres guarded each other. It was a habit he needed to train himself out of, but for now, a needed comfort. 

-I /shit shit SHIT, YOU LITTLE FUCKER/ I found the bastard! Tim!

A needle dropping could be heard in the following silence. Cain steps as she approached the batconputer could be heard  and that was something.

The smallest of the souls in his carrier pulsed at the sight of Brown’s distress as she clutched Black Bat’s hand, her other going to the almost completely red locket hanging from her neck. If it followed the pattern of both Grayson and Father, it would soon turn dark.  

(Unlike the clone and velocist, those two’s soul shards still retained the icy blue color, and Damian couldn’t help but think it had something to do with the fact that the people that had betrayed Drake the worst were the ones that were losing their connection to him first; Cain’s own compass was still mostly blue) 

Damian’s own soul basically jumped to his hand at the implication of what Todd was saying (he ignored the flash of disappointment that he wasn’t the one to find Drake, the little spark of something on the icy blue little ball that still reacted to that idiotic Todd…).  

Grayson was the one that basically pushed father out of the way, so he could lean over the keyboard, as if that would make him be heard clearer, hand fondling with the chain around his neck that was Drake ’s first shard, both to be created and to lose it’s warmth. 

-A-are you sure? Our Timmy?

-You have eyes on him? -demanded father as he typed away, faster than Damian ever remembered seeing, probably sending some kind of message to the Justice League for assistance.

-Damn right I’m sure, stumbled across him during my mission here, don’t know anyone as annoying/ FUCK can’t you see I’m on the phone ya lil shit?! I can do you one better than eyes on the bastard, B, I’ll put my hands around his weasly lil neck/! 

A window popped on the Cave monitor (of course Gordon was eavesdropping) as Oracle traced the call and hacked the street camera closest to Todd’s location. 

The figure was all in black, taller and leaner than Damian remembered. Or was that because he spent so much time watching footage of his time as Robin?

Drake was smaller then, baby faced and bird-boned. A child. Somewhere along the line, lost in studying his formative years, Damian had forgot the fact that he was a man, now.

He certainly looked the part, now. Graceful as fought Hood off, tough a lot more brutal, if Hood’s grunts of pain everyone the shiny staff made contact could be believed. He seemed in a hurry, too, judging by his almost too fast to be seen movements. 

The fight moved a little (likely Hood’s doing), and they shifted just enough for them to see, in the grainy quality of the camera, a second of Drake’s face before before he seemed to sense that he was being watched.

Something was thrown the camera’s way, a little gadget, and everything turned black. The only connection the Cave had to Drake now was the still going sounds of fighting. 

-Hood, tell him to stop! We don’t mean him any harm/

-I do, the little fucker broke my left wrist! Imma gonna show him!

-Hood! -now not only Grayson, but Brown too, chided. 

-Just stall him -commanded Father- Clark is on his way.

-Easy for you to say! Whatever he’s being doing this last few years, it gave him a hell of a boost. I can barely/ 

Silence. Not just Hood shutting up, but no more breaths, no more metallic clang. The line had been cut, something that shouldn’t been possible after all the upgrades father made to their comms. 

By the time Superman arrived to Gotham, an hour had passed, and not even Gordon could re install the connection to either the street camera nor the comm. Not that it would do any good: Hood was unconscious and brutally beated up, and not even a full scan of the city by various metas gave them any hint of Drake ’s location.  

The icy blue soul pulsed with guilt at hood’s state, but also an undeniable pride at the fact that Drake got away.

Damian felt like throwing it against a wall. Instead, he cradled it in his hands, against his chest, as he went to sleep that night.

He dreamed of grainy camera footage, the face in the recording handsome and lethal, the coldness on pretty eyes replaced by the emotional icy blue of his soul.

.-.-.-.-.

He woke up in the morning and laid on bed for a while. 

Ignorant on the emotional side of things as Grayson might believe him, Damian wasn’t about to lie to himself. 

There was no denying the clenching on his gut when the camera displayed the video of the dark figure fighting, the disappointment  when Hood failed to bring Drake home, the spark of annoyance at the fact that the tiny soul still reacted to the second Robin, the flash of white warmth that crept up him when he saw the results of Drake’s power on Hood’s battle wounds.  

The craving pumping his heart was like nothing he ever felt before.

It was kinda like seeing his mother holding her soul shard his way, like Grayson hands fastening the R brooch on his cape for the first time, like giving Father a ring and Nightwing a bracelet, nervous in a way that was unbecoming to someone of the Al Ghul’s household.   

It was wanting to receive and to be accepted.

It was even more than that.

It was holding Drake’s entire soul in his hand, small and battered as it was, and thinking ’I’ll fix this’. It was masterfully twirling it in his hand, easy from practice, letting Drake's  emotions wash over him, his fierce protectiveness over his friends, his honest fondness over the family, the growing approval every time Damian cracked a case or figured out a mystery on his own.

It wasn’t Drake himself, but at the same time it was.  

Damian dropped his head back into the pillow and raised the hand holding the tiny soul, his own gold, green and blue one laying on the mattress by his hip. It had tiny specs of ice blue on it, influenced against his will by the soul that shared the soul carrier with for so long now, not too different from the way his mother’s orange red soul had some dark blue hues dancing near it’s core, or how Pennyworth’s silver one had the barest hints of yellow, which the butler once told him were remnants of his first love.  

He never would admit to be emulating Todd, but in that moment, he couldn’t help it.

-Fuck.

[starcrossedjedis]

Tarlesyn Sand & Sansa Stark // A Tale of Sand and Snow [Game of Thrones]

“I knew that I was lonely”, she murmered into the warmth of his neck, her arms tightening their grip on his shoulders. “I had made my peace with it. Thought maybe this was the price I was paying for this crown, for being alive when almost everyone I cared about was not... for what I did to Jon. But then I met you...”

tag list <3 - @missjanuarylily, @perfectlystiles, @ohhitherekatie, @chuck-hansens, @isaaclahys, @demisucks, @simplytruee, @sideeffectsofwriting, @kylorenvevo, @faithfire, @harleyquinnzelz

When the Ruling Prince of Dorne appoints Tarlesyn Sand, the only bastard son of Oberyn Martell and Ellaria Sand, as ambassador to the newly independant Kingdom of The North, the cunning young man is less than thrilled. A son of sand and heat is not cut out for the bitter cold of winter and there are hundreds of places in the now Six Kingdoms that he would rather be exploring.

But when he arrives at Winterfell and meets the beautiful young Queen, Tarlesyn finds that there might be something about the North that he could love…

(This manip is so awkward, I’m sorry^^’)

[the-wyld-october]

Damitim "You're on of my midnight thoughts."

you’re one of my midnight thoughts.

Gotham’s skyline dances with glittering neon lights and the quick flicker of moving shadows. Robin, perched atop a water tower, can just pick out the members of his family from afar. The flip that’s all Nightwing flare, the wraith-like flutter of Black Bat’s cape. 

At night, Gotham is alive like she can never truly be in daylight. All her worst secrets crawl from the gutters while her defenders take to the sky. If you know how to look, there’s a rainbow painted in bats and birds across the midnight sky. Tonight, it’s a little duller than usual.

There’s no scarlet splashed along the spectrum of colors; Red Robin is nowhere to be found.

Robin feels his absence like an itch under his skin, feels foolish for it, but doesn’t bother trying to scratch it out. He’s adjusted to the mournful beast named yearning which has made its home in his chest. It’s quieter when Red Robin is home, but when he’s away, it makes a nest of Robin’s lungs and gnaws on his heart for sustenance. 

( One day the yearning is going to get too big for his rib cage and come bursting forth, become something unquenchable and uncontrollable. He knows it will, because it feels the same as he does these days, putting on the Robin suit. Like the seams are straining and there’s something raw tearing at the underneath. )

He puts Red Robin from his mind and launches from the water tower, swinging between buildings in pursuit of his father’s shadow. 

The route is familiar. Routine. Robin matches Batman move for move, mirroring left when he goes right. They make good time. Gotham is quiet, tonight.

All too soon, Robin returns to the Cave to roost and peels back his red-green-yellow skin and becomes Damian again.

“Quiet night, isn’t it?” Alfred remarks. “You may get a full night’s sleep yet, Master Damian.”

“Only if you do, Pennyworth.” 

They share a rote smile, knowing all too well that it’s been years since either of them slept through the night.

Damian washes the night from his skin and changes into soft, drawstring pants and a cotton shirt he doesn’t think is his. It’s small at the shoulders and loose everywhere else, and he’s fairly certain the person it belongs to would be swimming in it. 

He means to exit the showers and go straight upstairs, but the wan light of the Batcomputer beckons him. Damian finds himself typing in his access codes, bringing up suit biometrics and last known coordinates. When he lingers over Red Robin’s heartbeat, pulsing steadily before his eyes, Pennyworth has the courtesy not to call him on.

( The same way Damian won’t mention that it’s Timothy’s shirt Alfred left him to change into. )

Damian bids Alfred goodnight and closes down the scans before mounting the stairs. The manor above is empty, familiar, even in the dark. He trails the halls with the soundless steps of a feline, slipping between shadows and into his room. His bed is as he left it; pristinely made and terribly inviting.

Damian allows himself to fall face first into it.

Japan, he reminds himself, is fourteen hours ahead of New Jersey. And even if it wasn’t, there’s no guarantee that Timothy will call. He should not, under any circumstances, hope that he will.

But, he does. Of course he does.

He rolls onto his back and stares at his ceiling, willing himself to think of anything that isn’t Robin red or the sound a bo staff makes as it swings through the air. 

An impossible amount of time later, his cell phone begins to vibrate. Damian has it in hand before the second ring, the call accepted before the third.

“Hello, Timothy.”

“Oh, jeez, Damian, I didn’t expect you to be up.”

Damian collapses against his pillows, tension he hardly noticed he was holding draining from his body. 

“What is the expression? No rest for the wicked?” he teases. “I’m surprised you are awake either.”

“Only barely,” Timothy laughs. Damian’s heart beats feebly from between yearning’s teeth at the sound. “My internal clock is a mess, I’m going to have to call today a total loss. You know I woke up at nine at night? And then I slept till noon?”

“It sounds a great deal like your usual sleeping schedule, only in reverse.”

“Doesn’t it? Thank god I had the forethought to buy a couple cold brews before I crashed last night, or I might still be asleep. Oh, speaking of last night--”

Damian closes his eyes and listens. 

Timothy keeps talking, rambling about the driver they sent to get him from the airport, the first meal he had outside his hotel, the view from his room on the forty-something-th floor. It’s nothing important. Nothing worth staying up until fuck o’clock in the morning for, but he did anyway, because it’s Timothy.

Sometimes, Damian can’t help but marvel that he gets to have this. Even if he aches for more than friendly conversation and casual patrols, he feels lucky to have anything at all. Because there was a time not long ago where it felt impossible to bridge the gap he’d created between them, back when he was too young to know any better.

( It’s selfish to want more than Timothy’s forgiveness. It’s greedy to ask for his affection, his care, his attention. But Damian has the blood of a demon in him and he can’t help but to want. )

“--And I am totally talking your ear off. Wow. Sorry, Dami, guess the caffeine’s kicking in.”

“Don’t apologize.”

“Seriously? I just talked about a crepe I ate for like ten minutes.”

He shouldn’t. But it’s late. He’s tired and his tongue is loose, his heart bleeding red hot adoration through his chest. 

“I like to hear you talk,” Damian confesses into the silence.

And Timothy pauses, he can hear him breathe.

“Yeah?”

“Yes.”

“Alright,” Timothy hums. “Alright. Well, I had a tele-conference call an hour ago. Let me tell you how that travesty went...”

Damian allows his eyes to drift shut. He conjures thoughts of Robin red, the mellow tone of Timothy’s voice lulling him softly into sleep.

[samiholloway]

#sideeffectsofwriting #timehop