#so she has to use a cane to keep herself balanced

[faresong]

eve of the sun.

(spoiler) musings on my design choices below <3

✦ CLAIRE ELFORD —

Oh, my girl... I love her so much. I changed up her design slightly to draw in a gold tone due to my adjustment of her neck accessory: instead, it is part of a earring she was gifted by her grandmother that then broke. Though she doesn't remember why she had it, nor why it was only one of a set, she still holds a lot of sentimental value to it and couldn't bear to throw it out or sell its pieces, instead transforming it into a necklace.

I also gave her boots which, despite their look, are customized to better track up the mountain. These are her personal hiking boots! Additionally, since she lives up there, she has gotten into a few scuffles. While she's learned to hold herself well, there have been times she gets a bit overzealous—and the scar on her face is one of those cases. A nasty rock she was trying to remove had split her lip open and completely dragged down her shoulder before she could hit the floor and regain her standing. Nothing too dramatic, she'd say, but it reminds her to be careful... sometimes :P

Of course, because she's canonically the strongest of the group, I gave her more obvious muscles and fat to pad it out. As I've stated before with her living situation, eating is important to help her keep her strength up—and is also just something she enjoys! There are so many lovely recipes to try out, and before they died, she had loved bringing down ingredients of something new for her adoptive parents to try. They were all fresh, too, from her garden.

Here, despite the timeline regarding typical real-life immigration, I've portrayed her as mixed Indian/Portuguese. Her mother and grandmother were simply Indian immigrants, with Claire as the fourth-generation (Lady Dorothy had taught her Hindi, but with years without practice... she's lost much of it). Unfortunately for them, this was an additional motivator in the main town to persecute them sooner rather than later despite their people settling on the outskirts of Levine's ruling.

✦ SIRIUS GIBSON —

Onto Mr. "Bah!" now... As I've already mentioned, his moon earring is part of a set with Claire as a gift from Lady Dorothy. It was a gift in her hopes of bringing the two closer together.

Now, whether or not that worked out fully, Sirius feels he owes nearly everything to Lady Dorothy. Not only to provide him housing after his parents' demise, but tend to his leg injury wrought from when he'd been nearly crushed in the crowd. Everyone had pushed forward to see the alleged witches' deaths and hadn't cared when he'd fallen—Dorothy was there just in time to act as a barrier of sorts before they'd broken his ankle... but she still ended up crafting a small cane for his use.

As he grew up, however... the cane became more difficult to use. He was taller, and thus he began using Lady Dorothy'd old cane for himself. Whereas she had only needed it for balance, Sirius uses it to offset the pain/pressure on his left leg. Neither cane is pictured here, but it is still a crucial part of how his past pains continue to affect his present life—in a very literal way, albeit.

Due to how cold he tends to run within the mansion, he wears many layers. I've simplified his outfit to simply be: dress shirt, vest, pelerine. The last one is cut from the same cloth as Lady Dorothy's cloak (hence the slight star motif shared in both of their cloaks) and was initially a proper 'cloak' tailored for his younger self, though he still cannot let go of it.

I've added more prominent red to his design to tie in the ruby crest, as well as represent his resentment toward most others. In a literal sense, 'seeing red'—the reasons behind him becoming a demon clear. Unlike Claire who stands for nobility, Sirius cannot allow himself or Lady Dorothy that disgrace of leniency.

One last note: Sirius is portrayed as mixed Bengali/Portuguese. His great-grandparents had been one of the first Portuguese immigrants, with his grandfather brought over as a contracted engineer to figure out the water supply line for this area. He had never been given the chance to learn Bangla, as his mother didn't speak it... but Lady Dorothy had taken time to teach both Sirius and Claire Hindi, and he still reads some of the few books the Elfords had brought over. It's made him feel closer to the family, and he takes great care in trying to refine his language... even if it's difficult without another to practice with. (...I like to imagine, post-Sirius Conclusion, he teaches Claire again. It's only right.)

[squirrel-art]

Finished my little compilation of Sav and her mobility aids! ID in alt for each.

Disclaimer that I'm able-bodied & open to criticism about my portrayal! Also I realized belatedly her rollator is parked in a way that would, in fact, not keep it from rolling the fuck around, my bad.

Further details about my design philosophy/Sav's symptoms under the cut.

I played Savtas through Consular Story Chapter 1 in Full Good Girl Mode, saving all the Jedi and using the shielding ritual whenever prompted. The side effects of the rituals are vague and inconsequential in-game so as to make the job of the writers and programmers easier; characters comment worriedly about the fact that you "look tired" and not much else.

Fortunately, I have none of these restrictions. I don't know how to scientifically quantify "life-essence", but in my canon the energy required to create and maintain the shields comes right out of the body of the shielder, and behaves first and foremost like a faster-than-sustainable burning of calories. In the short-term, Sav became dangerously malnourished and fatigued; in the long-term she developed PoTS and what I've been glibly referring to as "Force fibro" in my brain, because the symptoms she experiences are the similar to that of those who suffer from fibromyalgia in real life: chronic pain, chronic fatigue, disordered sleep, and brain fog.

Some of those physical symptoms are ameliorated via use of a mobility aid, so she's tried out a couple different types.

Rollator

Sav's mobility aid of choice, purchased somewhere at the beginning of Ch 2. Sav is prone to dizziness and fatigue, and has less difficulty walking than she does standing for long periods; the rollator helps keep her balance and gives her somewhere to sit for short spells when she needs to.

The wheels do make this device better for navigating flatter and more even ground, but I imagine she can swap the wheels out for all-terrain varieties. I wonder if you could put blades on them like ice skates, to move around on places like Hoth? Well, the brakes wouldn't work, so probably not.

As mentioned in a previous post on my other sideblog, the design and colors are meant to evoke the pillars of the old Jedi Temple on Coruscant. This model is bespoke, created to Savvy's whimsical specifications. It wasn't even that expensive; you'd be surprised how many discounts people are willing to offer a Jedi!

Chair

A gift from the Jedi Council upon her defeat of Terrak Morrhage and the subsequent quelling of the Force plague. It's a more expensive model, and comes with a sturdy stand to rest it on when it's charging or not in use.

Design inspo drawn from both canon sources and the wonderful hermitmoss' hoverchair headcanons post!

I deliberated for a while as to whether Sav would have been given a wheelchair or a hoverchair. I settled on hoverchair mostly because Sav wanted a certain level of independence in her movement, but nobody was sure how long it would take her to regain enough upper body strength to reliably push herself around in a manual chair.

Sav in this image is at the beginning of her recovery, but she does continually make use of her chair after regaining some of her weight and muscle mass. Her rollator became her device of choice over the chair in part because the chair is kind of bulky and heavy, and can't be easily collapsed for transport. She probably has a lighter, more maneuverable transport chair stored on the ship to utilize in a pinch.

Looking at the design of the chair, I am already dissatisfied with it - the seat isn't raked to keep her from sliding out of it, and the control panel should realistically be attached to an extension and not directly under her hand. We'll fix that in the next pass, I think, but for now this drawing is representative of the overall design and colors.

Cane

She's got a few of these! Most have an offset or contour grip because she finds them the most comfortable, and most have adjustable bases.

Her favorite is probably the non-adjustable wooden one she got from a craftsman on Alderaan, the only one she owns made of fully organic materials.

[theoppositequeens]

Fandom: Six of Crows Pairing: Kaz Brekker/Inej Ghafa Rated: T Tags on Ao3, no archive warnings apply. Betaed by the amazing @ghelikblack <3

Just some shameless fluff for Bastards of the Barrel Discord Spring Prompt Swap: Tourists in town for the tulip festival. Didn't quite stick to your prompt, Laurie, but I tried!

Read here on Ao3.

comfort will rest on my shoulder

Mama and Papa Ghafa – for they insist on Kaz calling them that – don't visit often.

Kaz knows Inej has missed them and he’s pleased at this opportunity for her to see them. The Suli lifestyle of travelling and performing doesn't allow for long vacations, but they try their best to come to Ketterdam to see their daughter. Before, she used to dock her ship near their caravan routes in Ravka when they were on the coast, but it's been well over a year since Inej grounded herself and decided that hunting down slavers on a ship was no place for her while pregnant.

Neither is Ketterdam, really, not for raising a young child, so they have a modest estate in the lush countryside, and hour’s ride from the city.

That is where the Ghafas find them on this spring evening, escorted from the harbour by Anika and a few of the more trustworthy Dregs. Over the years, Kaz has given over more tasks to his second in command, both his leg and his newfound interest in keeping Inej and their child safe taking priority.

It was not exactly a difficult choice.

They’ve set a delicate balance over the years, him and Inej, between what they both need and what they are both willing to give up for each other. But like he'd never hold Inej back from the seas – indeed, sometimes she leaves their daughter with him, slips on her dark clothes and haunts Ketterdam's streets as the Wraith she is, coming home with invaluable information – she would never hold him back from the streets of Ketterdam. He still craves that life, the adrenaline and the way it requires him to use his brain, to be on top of his game. But he can scale it back for other priorities.

Kaz is the one who has chosen where his loyalties lie, a long time ago, and while he doesn't pretend he isn't a dark, twisted thing with his hands stained by blood, he can also be soft, for Inej. For their daughter, who according to Suli customs will not be named until she's a year old. Until now, Inej has called her petal along with various Suli endearments and Kaz has called her sweetheart, because that is how his heart feels when he looks at her chubby cheeks and dark, lively eyes. Sweet. Like there's some good still in him, if he had a part in creating this perfect little human that now calls him Dadadadada and tries to grab his nose whenever it's in reach.

Jesper calls her sunshine, and Wylan tells her she's his flower or darling. Nina, when she writes, calls her malyshka and tells Inej she better raise their daughter right, with none of Kaz's brooding and murderous tendencies.

They all call her menace, lovingly, when she behaves like one. Which is often.

It's a mild evening, spring turning to summer, and Inej has tears in her eyes the second she hears the carriage coming up the road. They’ve been waiting since a runner came from Ketterdam earlier with the news that the ship carrying Inej’s parents was waiting for permission from the Council to dock.

"Let me take her," Kaz requests, shifting his cane on the floor and bracing for the weight of his sleepy daughter as Inej hands her over. "Go greet them."

Inej flies down the path through the front garden, blooming with spring flowers, her hair trailing behind her like a dark, glossy veil, catching the golden sunlight in the strands. She’s still agile and fast, not showing a hint of the new life that Kaz knows is growing within her.

Her parents meet her with open arms and wide smiles, their graying heads bent over her dark one as Kaz ambles closer.

"Shush now, sweetheart," he soothes as his daughter coos, blinking sleepily on his hip as they approach at a slower pace. She's just turning one, the occasion for her grandparents to travel to her naming, and seeing her for the first time.

"Oh Inej, she's beautiful!" Inej's mother exclaims, and Papa Ghafa steps forward to meet Kaz. He rests his cane against his hip to meet the man's steady clasp of hands, thankful he decided to wear his gloves. With Inej and the baby, he rarely has trouble, but with anyone else, it's still touch and go.

"Well done, son. You must be so proud."

"We are," Kaz replies, and glances at his wife, still cradled in her mother's arms, gushing about their daughter in quick, flowing Suli. "Though Inej did the hard work."

"Indeed she did. But we're eternally grateful she has you to look out for her."

"I mostly look out for him, papa," Inej teases good naturedly.

"Too damn right, Inej!" Anika laughs from where she's watering the horses in preparation for the return journey, and Kaz rolls his eyes, trying to put on a stern face.

"No respect even from my second-in-command?"

"I’m your second-in-command because I don't respect you," Anika claims. "Said you can't stand boot-lickers."

Well fuck. That's true. Kaz did say that. He abhors working with people who can't think for themselves. They make good underlings, but he’d never trust them with business. Anika has a sharp head on her shoulders.

"Business better be good when I get back, or I'll reconsider that position," he threatens mildly.

"Sure, boss," Anika mock salutes him. "See you in two weeks!"

The Ghafas have never visited the countryside in spring before, and Inej is eager to show it off. She cooks up a storm with her mother while Kaz minds the little one, sits with them out in the warm sunshine while they coo over their granddaughter walking unsteady across the grass, drags them to the markets for fresh early-spring produce. There's endless stories about cousins and aunts and uncles while Kaz deals with the inevitable paperwork that won't stop even for a vacation. While Anika deals with most of the day-to-day business, he keeps up with the books, has the accounts delivered to him regularly. He also oversees a lot of investments on the legal side of things, trying to build a steady ground for their family.

Inej and her mother bend over a book of flowers and plants, reading out the scientific names and planning Inej's garden, planting the spice seeds they've brought to Kerch with them. The Ghafas do partnered acrobatics while Kaz and the little one watch, the youngest member of their family giggling excitedly. Papa Ghafa loses in a knife throwing competition to both Kaz and Inej.

But Inej's favourite thing to do is to walk the tulip fields.

They're in full bloom, gorgeous colors stretching as far as the eye can see, and they take the carriage Kaz often uses to visit Ketterdam out to them, leaving it behind to traverse between the rows of bulbs. Kaz endures the long walk with grace, because he knows how important it is to Inej to have this conversation with him present, and their daughter rides on Papa Ghafa's shoulders. She tried her best to stick her plump little fingers into the earth and attempted to eat it, before her mother caught her and handed her off to her grandfather.

Kaz rarely finds peace anywhere but with Inej and the little one, though sometimes with the remaining other three crows or the old Dregs members. But he knows Inej finds it here. She says that among all this beauty, she can forget the cruelty and darkness and blood of the streets of Ketterdam. It's also here that Inej hooks her arm through her mother's, and speaks reverently in Kerch, so that Kaz is included in the conversation.

"We will name her Lilia," Inej states calmly. And it's like their daughter understands, because at that exact moment she giggles, a bright, loud and happy sound. "Tulips are of the Liliales-family, and I want to name her after where I've found peace, so she'll have a life full of it."

Papa Ghafa murmurs something in Suli that Kaz doesn't catch.

"Lilia. A beautiful name for a beautiful girl." Mama Ghafa sounds thoughtful. "And she'll need peace to deal with a younger sibling," she adds knowingly. Inej doesn't seem surprised they've been found out, only traces over her own stomach and shoots Kaz a bright smile.

"Spring is a time for new beginnings," Inej says in that peaceful way of hers, and her mother nods along, placing her hand over Inej’s on her stomach.

Inej’s parents walk ahead, swinging their happily squealing granddaughter between them, and Inej leans into Kaz’s side for a moment, tilting her head against his shoulder to enjoy the sight. He twists his head, presses a kiss to the crown of her head.

When they get home, they'll dedicate their little girl to the Saints properly, and officially give her the name. But for now, Kaz and Inej walk through the endless, colorful fields surrounded by family.

[devastator1775]

In the immortal Vuzi AU, how do V’s injuries still affect her?

(This answer includes links to relevant stories and chapters)

On most days, V's leg feels just slightly numb and doesn't quite react as good as the other, so she requires a cane to keep her balance. Even on good days where she doesn't really need to use it, she likes to carry around the cane, mostly because she enjoys wacking Uzi to get her attention.

While she's mostly pain-free, whenever V is overexerting herself - prolonged flying, excessive physical exercises, ect - it can get temporarily worse.

Now, I can hear you asking: "how does she have a bad leg, if she has a healing factor?" There is an answer for that, but since it's a minor spoiler, I'll leave that one under the cut. If you don't want to wait for the chapter where the issue will be addressed, feel free to read it.

While the story calls it - for convenience sake - a healing factor, it's not completely 'accurate'. The way that the ETRNTY virus works is more akin to a reset to whenever the virus first fully activated in Uzi and V's system. It kinda revers them to that 'point in time' where its effects took root. It's why their personalities don't really mature as well.

And since V's leg was still being repaired at that time - the doctors in the outpost weren't really eager to repair a 'Murder Drone' that caused them so much grief - it always reverts to that condition. Even if Uzi repairs it, it would just revert back in a couple of years - same with her tail.

After all those years, V is used to the discomfort it brings and can life her lives without much hinder.

[silentmagi]

Do you have any plans for the rest of the class in the Prototype AU

Prototype!BNHA

That's a good question, and to be honest, I do have some notes...

Yuga Aoyama - I kinda want to give him more of Tuxedo Mask completing the suit look and giving him a cane and artificial rose support items to supplement his naval laser.

Mina Ashido - Lankier, more alien look, curlier horns that change constantly, and I'm thinking I'd make her more hyperactive and incorporates more dance moves into her fighting. Is trying to understand emotions. (maybe alien, maybe just weird.)

Tsuyu Asui - Gender fluid (due to being male in the original designs), she's still a good friend and stalwart companion. Helps to keep others grounded more. Collects frog merch and tries to sneak out when it rains.

Tenya Ida - More of streamlined hero costume, forced to sit still by his iron will and a bit more energetic. The iron will shows signs of crumbling under stress, such as when a hero killer goes after his older brother, and he snaps going on a hunt.

Mashirao Ojiro - He and Akatani are both going to be sparring partners. He is another grounding force for the class.

Denki Kaminari - I'd play up that he's actually fairly intelligent, and a bit of an Anglo/Ameri-phile. He's also going to call people out on their shit, as he fears no death. Bit of a flirt at the worst possible times... Probably flirted with Himiko when she was trying to stab him.

Eijiro Kirishima - Bit rougher around the edges, still "MANLY" and a bit of a workout maniac.

Koji Koda - No notes. Move along. Leave a sacrifice of leafy greens for the rabbit on your way out. Yuwai-chan is not threatening my life.

Rikido Sato - I think maybe having him be the big brother of the class, and using food to help his class to deal with things.

Mezo Shoji - Nothing major, might have him be able to make the full mini-heads on one of his limbs.

Kyoka Jiro - I love her, Momo loves her. Might borrow from Shadows: The Horror Movie Heroes by Clouds in that she can control the heartrates of others to an extent.

Hanta Sero - I'd actually might have him do more health related things, like background yoga, encouraging balanced meals, and such.

Fumikage Tokoyami - Not many notes on him, probably a bit kinder when around kids (Eri), due to-

Dark Shadow - Yes, the quirk. Yes, they are sentient. When in class they take the form of a younger long black haired girl with a bird shaped hair charm, and has a small desk for herself next to Fumikage. Yes, I know that it was an omake and due to a villain. You can guess how much I care.

Shoto Todoroki - Not much design or character notes, however, the left (scar side) eye has some minor vision defects that he wears glasses when reading for. Yes, he is just as unhinged as the Big Three, and a bit bipolar.

Toru Hagakure - THEY GET A PROPER COSTUME THAT GOES INVISIBLE WHEN THEY WANT! Keep the smiling mask for when facing villains in battle. They are non-binary, and still working on what they want in life. Also loves martial arts.

Minoru Mineta - That's a strange way of spelling Hitoshi Shinsou. He and Akatani are friends though no one outside of them can understand the friendship, even Bakugou.

Momo Yaoyorozu - she is going to be bigger, because she knows she needs to store up extra fats and lipids to power her quirk, like she is THICC, and Kyoka Jiro is weak to her. More confident and strategic. Also, cannons are not the answer, they are the question. Her answer is YES.

Shota Aizawa - Listen, Dadzawa is real, he is married to Present Mic, and is tired. So very tired. He doesn't know how Akatani, Yuu, and Katsuki are under his control until he lets them loose, but he has his hands full with the rest of the problem children. Did I mention this poor man is so very tired and his last vestiges of faith in humanity grows weaker every time his class is attacked and he lets the respond in kind. He's still working on the proportionate and appropriate level of force response lessons.

[petertingle-yipyip]

WORLD CLASS SINNER - FRANK CASTLE

one - deja vu

tags: n/a two // masterlist // MAD AT GOD (DD CANON)

welcome back to the MAG universe! this time around we are rolling through the Punisher series. i’m so excited to develop her friendship with Frank and see what happens between her and Billy!

Pairing: Billy x Livia (casual), Frank x Livia (platonic)

Word Count: 5, 728

Summary: Being back in the Kitchen almost immediately pulls her back into a fight. But without Matt, what has she become?

You moved over quickly, using Luke as footing to jump from after he knocked her into a short spin so she faced away from you. You moved in a fluid motion to connect the wires between your wrists as you hooked one leg over her shoulders and jammed the other against her spine. You leaned forward enough to get the wire across her throat before you dropped to land on your feet.

She was quick to flip her sai in her grip and slam it through your thigh. Your leg buckled and she used the chance to free herself, spinning to slam her foot against the side of your head. You fell to your back with a wet thump and you pushed to your elbows, craning your neck to see her weapon skewering your thigh. The red stained tip poked through and any movement sent a sharp pain through your body, eminating deep within your bone. She dared to move closer and you kicked the opposing foot against her chest.

Once that foot landed back on the ground, the pain on the other side made you cry out. You managed to drag yourself to your feet and stood unsteadily, hopping on your good leg to try and maintain balance. You reached awkwardly behind yourself for your staffs, having to connect them quickly and use them as a cane for the moment.

“You’ll die down here with us.” Elektra’s voice taunted you, though she was no where to be seen. “As you should.”

You hobbled in a small circle while you tried to find where the voice was coming from. But there was no one, not even the ghost of footsteps or shuffles to give her away. The rest of your group was gone, as if they never came down with you. Not even the elevator.

Hadn’t they just been there?

The tunnels around you stretched as far as you could see, dripping and collecting small puddles. Your labored breathing filled the silence between drips and you felt something eerily out of place about the whole thing.

“Come on then.” You challenged weakly. A deep breathe before you screamed into the wet darkness. “Come out and kill me!”

“Livia.” He said calmly and you spun so fast you nearly slipped in the water. But when you glanced down to find your footing, you were in a puddle of blood. All of the water had turned to blood. You closed your eyes tightly and shook your head, assuming it was your own mania creeping in, but when you opened them the sight hadn’t changed.

“This is what you wanted.” He used the same eerily calm tone, even as the ground shook beneath your feet.

“You should’ve left.” You said angrily as the drips began to land on your forehead. “You shouldn’t be here, Matt.”

“Then why didn’t you keep him safe?” Elektra appeared at his side, walking around him like a predator taunting her prey. Her fingers trailed along the back of his shoulders.

But even in the dim light, neither of them looked like themselves. They were soaking wet and it looked it was water on their bodies, but it reflected red once it hit the ground. Their skins were tinted blue, cyanotic to match their puffy lips and swollen bodies. Their eyes were hollow, sunken in and hardly even there. Everytime their mouths open, blood spilled. They looked like corpses that had been left at the bottom of the river for months to decay in silence.

“I tried.” You answered but the sound barely registered.

Your eye suddenly stung and when you reached to wipe it, your hand came back with fresh red blood. The scar above your eye, the deep gash your mask left from your fight with Fisk, was now fresh and seeping into your eye. The scar on your cheekbone stained the lower half of your face. Your chest snapped and the cartilage fell loose and the old cracks in your ribs fell open. One by one, old injuries became fresh again and each one felt like a hit to your stamina, to your strength, until you fell back to your knees.

Elektra appeared in front of you now, reaching with a sadistic smile for her sai that still dripped with your blood. You tried to back away but landed against Matt, who moved quickly to pin you to the ground. You struggled against him, but he leaned more of his weight against you and left you flailing and kicking.

“Matt? Matt, what are you doing?” You said in a panic but your own blood filled your mouth.

Elektra twisted the weapon in your leg and you screamed out, a gurggled sound that nearly choked you. You kicked your other foot at her but it moved through her, as if she was never really there.

“You’ll die. Painfully.” She threatened before a second sai appeared in her hands.

She climbed over your body, knees on either side of your ribs as she lined her weapon with the center of your chest. By then you were crying, hair sticking to your face and thrashing your body under her weight. But she didn’t move. Matt didn’t move. Instead, they offered each other wicked smiles before both looking down at you.

“You could’ve saved me, Livvy… Why didn’t you?” Matt asked.

You opened your mouth to answer but before your voice could find you, Elektra’s weapon began to press into your chest.

Breaking the skin earned a whine.

Her jamming the heel of her hand against it to break through your sternum drew a groan.

Her slow, intentional pressure against your heart earned a plead.

“I can fix this.” You tried, barely a whisper above the shattering thuds of collapsing rock.

“If you could’ve…” She said lowly, leaning forward to meet your panicked eyes, dripping blood from her lips. “You would’ve already.”

Your eyes went wide at the wet sound of the sai piercing your heart.

———————————————————————————————————————

You shot up in your bed and a hand instantly moved to your cheek. The skin was clear of blood but covered in a layer of sweat. You felt above your brow and found the same. With a small noise of stress, you threw your comforter back and shuffled to the bathroom. A hand was rubbing the center of your chest, haunted by the tip of Elektra’s weapon.

You flipped the light, squinting through it for a minute until your eyes adjusted. You planted both hands against the countertop and leaned in to see the faint lines of scars around your eye. The subtle discolorations that followed the shape of your mask, permanent memories of your time as a vigilante, of that hole deep inside you that you couldn’t quite fill. Quantico had done very little towards that gaping feeling, that hole somewhere too deep for you reach that felt like it would swallow you everyday.

You thought that FBI training, getting away from the Kitchen, would maybe be good for you. It’d be time to breathe, maybe even grieve. But those words didn’t seem to mean anything to you anymore. It just felt like they were adding to that depth, sucking out any remnants of progress you had made.

Maybe coming home wasn’t going to be any better.

You blew out a sigh and splashed your face with cold water, a contrast to the heat that seemed to live in your blood now. You felt warm, everywhere you went. No matter the temperature outside, you were boiling inside. But if someone were to touch your skin, they’d never know.

That was who you were now. Not Livia. Not even Exodus. You were someone else. Someone with Livia’s memories and tendencies, with Exodus’ mania and skills, but other things were left unaccounted for. Who’s morals did you maintain? Who’s relationships were important?

Who’s heart beat in your chest? Who’s blood was in your veins?

But if you thought about it too long, Matt’s voice would creep into your thoughts. Random things he had told you throughout the time you knew him. Empty promises he made to Exodus. Honest sentiment he gave to Livia. The last words you heard him say.

You shoved those thoughts to a deep corner of your mind as you headed back to the living room. The chest in the closet seemed to call out to you. The chest full of boxing memorabilia pertaining to Matt’s father, some of his own collection and some you were able to add for him, one of his bibles, and the false bottom that allowed him to hide his suit.

The suit that would never be there again.

You sighed and shook your head before heading to your bedroom to find clothes for the day. You might as well get ready since you knew your mind wasn’t going to let you sleep again anytime soon.

Wasting as much time as you could, you got ready and headed out into the city. You had been back from Quantico for about a week and you were trying to settle back into the Kitchen, but the nightmare of Midland haunted you every night. It was a little different everytime, sometimes the words they spoke to you changed and once it was Matt that killed you with your own blade, but it always the same premise. The three of you, everything coated in blood, and you died.

It was either your conscious gnawing at you and refusing to let you escape, even in sleep, or it was the universe telling you that death would find you. Either way, it never left your mind.

As you were out, you saw Matt in every face. Everywhere you went, you saw him. You almost called his name a few times until you got a better look and remembered he was dead. It felt like you were losing yourself in the grief, in the hopes that it was all a bad dream. Maybe you were still dreaming?

But then someone bumped your shoulder walking by and you knew you weren’t. Weeks had passed and you still couldn’t fully stomach the fact that he was gone. In your mind, you just wanted him there and he was everywhere but nowhere all at once.

You were wandering your usual streets, fighting through the relentless deja vu, stopping at one of the few lunch spots you missed, and ended up at the only building you thought could help. It was one of the few places you didn’t avoid prior to your time away, and now, maybe it was the only chance to cool the blaze under your skin. To fill the hole.

You walked in with a shaky breath and found Father Lantom outside the confessional, talking to one of the nuns with hushed urgency. But as you approached, he sent the nun away and turned to you with a small but welcoming smile. He gestured to the small, private conversation box and you simply nodded. He stepped inside first and you followed suit into your side about a minute later.

“Good to have you back.” Father Lantom said after a short silence. “How was your training?”

“Good, yeah, it was good.” You answered simply. “Dex said everything went really well so now it’s just waiting for approval or something, I don’t really remember…”

“It was quick.”

“Yeah, it was a specialty.. Accelerated… Accelerated program.” Your eyes fell and you noticed you were wringing your fingers. Since when did you do that? “Look, Father, I don’t know if there’s something I’m supposed to say to start this but…”

“Whatever you need to say, Alivia.” He offered genuinely. “Whenever you’re ready to say it.”

“I keep having this nightmare, Elektra and Matt and me. Under Midland and we all die together… Usually El does it but Matt’s done it too, killed me. And I thought being away would make it easier. But it feels worse… I can’t sleep. I hardly eat. I just feel empty.”

“Have you ever felt anything like this before?”

“When I was younger, when I realized what I was going to have to do in the Red Room. I didn’t feel like a person…”

“Hmm..”

“But then I got out and out of nowhere I meet Matt and suddenly… It was like my heart was beating in my chest for the first time.” You couldn’t fight the sad smile that stretched your lips. “Now, it’s like anytime I think about him, my heart can’t beat. It’s just there, weighing down my chest like a rock.”

“When Matt would first tell me about his night activities, he was so twisted up about some of the things he found.” He spoke carefully, treading a fine line between breaking the seal of confession and finding the details that he hoped would offer you comfort. “Some of the things he had seen, what some people in this town were capable of…”

“People like me?”

“No. He never spoke unkindly about you, even before he knew.”

That seemed to fill the hole a little but the blaze remained.

“Yeah, he wasn’t the type…” You sniffled. “Were you able to help him?”

“What I offered wasn’t the help he needed. I could offer bible verses and quotes to him every day, but he knew them all. He knew the stories and the psalms as easy as he knew his way here.”

“So what’d you say?”

“I told him to listen to his heart, because his had always been good. Angry and hurt, yes, but also good.”

“I’ve never felt this alone.” You spoke, a distance in your voice as you stared at the wood door in front of you. “I’ve been left before, by others and by my own choice. I’ve sabotaged my life to a point where I had to be alone and I’ve sacrificed my lifestyle to protect people around… I don’t want to feel this again.”

“Feeling these kinds of things is what makes us human.”

“Yeah..” You nodded, finding the familiar mental ledge that could take it all away. That could turn it all off so it didn’t matter, that would let Livia rest. All you had to do… Was give her… A little push. “Maybe that humanity is the issue.”

“Guilt is a good thing.. It’s a soul’s call to action, the innate feeling that something is wrong. The only way to rid yourself of it is to correct your mistakes.”

“Correct my mistakes…” You repeated slowly. “I can’t correct this one… Not the way I’d need to. But I know how to get rid of these feelings.”

“Alivia?” He asked quickly and the concern was palpable in his voice.

“Thanks, Father… It’s been nice catching up.”

And with that, you left the church. You took a deep breathe when you stepped out, the crisp New York air hitting you as soon as you stepped out. There was something freeing in that breath. The heat still blazed with every beat of your stoned heart, leaving a trail of warmth through your veins. The hole still lived in your soul but now you fed it, all the sorrow and despair and loneliness was shoved into the hole. It didn’t fill it by any means, but it satisfied it enough that it wouldn’t swallow you whole. It allowed you to live, and for now that was enough.

The rest of your day was relatively uneventful. You went home for a while and did some reorganzing. You cleaned up some of Matt’s leftover belongings that you were unable to touch before. You even started a pile of things that you figured you should donate. Someone else in the Kitchen could probably use some of those suits.

You took down some photos and put them in the closet with his chest. You even took down that painting from the art gallery you bought. It was the red one Vanessa had showed you. You bought it because you had liked it. It made you think of the Man in the Mask and how turbulent your relationship was but now that he was gone, it was just another token of a dead life. So you shoved it away as well.

You cleaned some of the things you had been neglecting and began to feel like you were actually getting some sort of normalcy back. It wasn’t the normalcy that Matt would’ve wanted for you. You could recognize that, but you never expected to have that anyway. You never had the normalcy he wanted for you when he wasn’t around, so you felt no requirement to find it now that he was gone. And maybe you owed it to his memory to live a real life, live a life of peace, but that was never part of you.

It was later that night when you realized what day it was.

Curtis’ support group for veterans.

You were always welcomed there, ever since you started with Anvil. He never made you talk but the option was always there. And you did, occasionally, if only to shut down one of the other guys. There was a certain respect from Curtis that you didn’t find in other people. He knew you were from an ‘elite covert kill squad’ since childhood but he didn’t ask other questions. He didn’t need to know everything to know that you were lost. It was refreshing and you liked to stay after official sessions to talk about whatever you were thinking or feeling.

But glancing at the time, it was too late for that. So you shrugged it off and decided you’d go next time. At least to say hello to an old friend, the least judgemental one you had left. Instead, you decided you’d go to the bookstore and add to your to-be-read collection while continuing to ignore texts from everyone that knew you.

It wasn’t long until alleged vigilantism found it’s way to you. That next morning, stories of an assault at a construction zone hit your ears. Bodies found under fresh concrete with more blunt force injuries than they should’ve had. Then, estimated to be a few hours later, a hit against a prominent crime family.

It had a familiarity to it that you couldn’t quite place, but it gave you an odd sense of comfort. There was the haunt of concern in your bones, as if you worried that there was something left unanswered within you, but Matt took that part with him. When he died, so did that part of you that wanted to do something good. That wanted to help the neighborhood you loved. You liked the fact that someone else was handling it for you, but you’d be lying if you said it didn’t vaguely set off an old itch that liked to be scratched. An old manic, sadistic, worrisome itch that could easily spiral to a full blown bloodbath.

So instead, you carried on with your day. You went to the grocery store to refill your fridge and your pantry. You bought some new clothes, more fitting for an FBI agent, and got some plastic totes to put away some of Matt’s things. The things you didn’t want to look at but couldn’t quite bring yourself to get rid of.

While you were out, you decided to stop by an old warehouse. You weren’t even sure if he would be there, but it was the only starting point you had. You knocked lightly on the door before heading inside, watching the corners and dark shadows carefully.

“Melvin.” You called out when you saw the vague shape of a man sweeping in the corner. “I just wanna talk.”

“Whoever you are, I don’t talk.” He said sharply, coming into full view with a wrench gripped tightly in his hands. “Just go on back the way you came and this never happened.”

“We had a mutual friend.” You said simply, lifting your head a little. “Our Man in the Mask.”

“Shit.” He breathed, slowly dropping the wrench. “I uh, heard he’s gone… That true?”

“Yeah. Your suit protected him from a lot but couldn’t withstand a falling building.”

“Shit.” He said again.

“Mmm.” You agreed. “I came to ask you for something. A vest. Clean lines, simple build. Something I can wear daily, under my normal clothes.”

“Guess that makes you Exodus, huh?” He broke into a small smile that didn’t last. “Sorry but I don’t do that anymore.”

“Yeah, I figured… Neither do I, not really. Ever since Red went down, I…” You took a deep breath. “I got a good job lined up, just need a little something.”

He sighed heavily and turned to the ceiling before facing you again.

“I’ll do you a favor, just this once cause your friend always kept his word. But don’t expect anything else.” He said firmly, pointing a finger at you.

“One and done.” You nodded.

“Alright.. Ah jeez, okay. Your measurements the same? Red and black still?”

“Yeah, pretty much.” You looked at your arms and chest. “And uh, no. No red.”

“C’mon.” He guffawed. “You and Daredevil were partners. You don’t want anything to remember him?”

“Just do whatever.” You shrugged. “How much?”

“It’s on me. I never charged your buddy so… Just gimme a day or two. I’ll get you something nice.”

“I appreciate it.” You offered a smile, though you didn’t quite mean it. “Thanks, Melvin.”

“Yeah, yeah.” He waved you off. “Don’t ask me for nothing. Alright? I mean it.”

“I get it.” You insisted as you backed towards the door. “Looking forward to it.”

Later that day, not long after you had unloaded all of your groceries, a hard knock sounded at your door. You ignored it, assuming it was just your friends coming to see if you were home yet. Either that, some kids screwing around, or it was just someone from your past coming to kill you. Who exactly was out to get you at that point, you weren’t sure, but there were enough skeletons in your closet that hadn’t fallen out yet. So you went about your business until the door flew open and someone rushed in.

Calmly, you grabbed the gun you tucked between the fridge and wall and turned to face whoever was in your apartment. You gripped it comfortably and cleared your throat, seeing them turn with a sharp gasp. Your brows raised expectantly and Karen’s hands shot up instantly.

“God, Livia, you scared me.” She breathed before covering a hand to her chest. “How long have you been back?”

“How often do you come into my apartment?” You asked instead, lowering the gun but not putting it down.

“I just-” She tried to explain but her eyes kept falling to the gun. “Can you put that down, please?”

“Don’t trust me anymore?” You raised your brows before tucking the gun into the back of your waistband. “Answer my question.”

“Has he reached out to you?” She asked instead.

“I’m not playing games, Karen. If you have something to tell me, then spit it out and get out of my apartment. If you only came here to fuck around…”

“Frank.” She said quickly. “Frank’s back.”

“Explains the news.” You tilted your head in acknowledgement. “What’d he come to you for?”

“Something about some Micro, a guy that came after him recently. Knows who he is, that he’s alive.”

“Micro… This guy have a real name?”

“David Lieberman, NSA analyst that is officially shot dead by Homeland Security a year ago.”

“Only he’s not.” You nodded. “Okay. Where’s Frank now?”

“I don’t know.”

“Is he going after Lieberman?” You closed your eyes and rubbed your forehead, weighing the pros and cons of you getting involved.

“Probably… But Frank said he’s a- He’s a spook. How would he find him?”

“Well, he wouldn’t go for him directly, but someone that knows him or is relevant to him just might work to draw him out. What other names did you work out?”

“Carson Wolf got the whole story cut, could be something there.”

“Probably.. Name sounds familiar.” You felt the scales tilting back and forth in your brain. “Why did you come and tell me about this?”

“Because I-” She hesitated, as if she had just noticed your reaction. “He doesn’t really seem like he wants me involved.”

“So you want me to go run into a fight I know nothing about?” You dropped your hand against your leg with a smack and opened your eyes. “Don’t you think if Frank wanted my help, he would’ve came to me himself?”

“Maybe he didn’t know where to find you.” She offered, clearly searching for anything to convince you.

“Or maybe he didn’t care enough to find me.” You countered with a shrug. But seeing the desperation in her eyes, feeling the plead in her bones, you sighed heavily. “I’ll think about it… I’ll look into Lieberman, maybe there’s a wife or siblings or something. And this Wolf guy, I think I heard his name around Quantico so I guess I can pull some strings in that direction.”

“Thank you.” She let out a sharp exhale, as if she had been holding her breath for your response. “Have you told Foggy you’re back?”

“No.” You turned away to busy yourself in your kitchen. “Haven’t told anyone.”

“I’m sure he’d love to see you.” She tried gently. You noticed the hesitation in her words and realized she was walking on eggshells, completely unsure of how stable you were. “Or at least hear from you.”

“The last conversation we had was an argument.” You admitted, though your voice lacked the remorse it should’ve had and it was too late to add it in now. “And he flinched away from me… He told me that if I wanted to get myself killed, I was more than welcome to as long as I didn’t try to blame anyone other than myself for it.”

Her mouth opened and closed in silence, like she was chomping at the air while she tried to find a response. Finally, her voice found her and it was the same response you expected.

“He had to have still been in shock.”

“He had more than enough time to get over it.”

“I know he wouldn’t say that to you and mean it.” She reasoned.

“Yeah, just like Matt never would’ve said half of what he said to me during the Castle trial, right?” Your brows raised in accusation and you saw her expression drop. “Yeah, sometimes pain or shock bring out what people really mean.”

“Livia-”

“Doesn’t matter.” You cut in firmly. “Next time you see Frank, ask him if he wants my help. In the meantime, I’ll poke around and start building some intel.”

“Thanks.” She forced a tight smile. “And I’ll talk to Foggy, if you want me to.”

You simply shrugged.

“He’s one of your best friends, isn’t he?” She asked gently, scared for what your answer would be.

“Most of the people I’ve called friends have grown to hate me for one reason or another… I guess I always knew I’d add Foggy to that list one of these days.” You answered flatly.

“C’mon, Livia.” She tried again.

“Better that than dead… You can go now.”

With a small gesture of defeat, she left. And you wondered if you were going to regret getting involved.

Some quick research into Lieberman showed he did leave a family behind, a wife and two kids. You had no intentions of hurting them but should there be a need, you had blackmail material. He was allegedly shot dead by Homeland after resisting arrest. There was nothing about why he was wanted by Homeland, nor was there anything about his career. But he was NSA, so there should’ve been something other than a passing mention.

That all just meant someone wanted it to go away, and that someone was likely this Carson Wolf character.

You thought about going over to the address you could find for Sarah Lieberman but you assumed Frank would’ve been there already. And two unfamiliar visitors in one day would’ve triggered some sort of concern in the wife, who you had to assume was helping hide her undead husband until you knew otherwise. Instead, you wrote down the address and looked into Carson Wolf. You found that he was one of the higher ups at Homeland Security. It was an interesting connection that you’d have to poke at later.

With a little digging, you also found some information on the construction site incident. There was a feature on the company’s webpage about a new employee, which was asterisked as inactive the day after the bodies were found. There was no picture on the page but you could only assume that Pete Castiglione was the one and only, Frank Castle.

You decided to get out of the house and headed out to get something to drink. You passed by Josie’s and thought about going in. But when you reached the door, you were hit with one of many memories of you and Matt in that place so you had to pass. You passed other bars as you wandered and none really seemed inviting. Eventually, your feet grew tired of aimlessly moving so you settled on a bar you had been to with Billy a few times. Low and behold, Billy was already there.

You felt his eyes following you as you passed by, taking a seat at the bar a few seats down. You ordered your drink and when it came out, you spun the liquid around the glass, listening vaguely to Billy talking about his service and Frank.

The woman kept asking questions pertaining to Frank and their conversation held your interest. Without making it obvious, you noted what she was asking.

Did he get dirty? Could he have been involved in drugs over there?

But why ask questions about a dead man? Who was she?

The gears in your brain were turning when you heard Billy’s question.

“So you’re single?” He asked, clear flirting in his tone. Your head cocked slightly and your brow raised, noticing he was already looking at you for a reaction. He laughed and tilted his bottle towards you but you simply smiled and shook your head.

He went back to his flirting and you rolled your eyes slightly at his next remark. But you did hear a name.

Special Agent Madani.

You could tell she was either going to be one hell of an obstacle or one hell of an ally.

You watched her leave and then decided to slide into her seat.

“Billy Russo, always the player.” You teased with a sly smile and he grinned. “How’ve you been? Lonely?”

“Livia Yersova.” He said happily. “And here I thought I’d never see you again.”

“Well, Quantico was fun but I got bored.” You shrugged playfully. “Knew everything they wanted to teach me.”

“Yeah, I bet you did..” He nodded, never dropping that sly smile. “Bet you made one hell of an impression too.”

“Don’t I always?”

“Yes, you do… Y’know, I missed you.”

“You did not.” You scoffed lightly, gesturing to the bartender for a second drink. “Judging by your latest visitor.”

“Ah, I see what this is.” He chuckled. “You’re jealous.”

“In your dreams, Russo.” You rolled your eyes with an amused smile. “Who was that anyways? She was asking a lot of questions…”

“Dinah Madani.” He answered simply. “Homeland agent that brought a team through Anvil earlier.”

“Homeland, huh?” You turned towards the door even though she was long gone. “Interesting…”

“Why?”

When you didn’t answer, he reached for your chin and turned your face towards him.

“What’s goin’ on in that head of yours?” His eyes darted between yours as he tried to figure you out, but you knew he never would. Not in any way that would mean anything.

“Just curious why a Homeland agent is asking about a dead man is all…” You shrugged. “And it’s a pattern.”

“Oh, it’s a pattern.” He said with a nod, acting as if it explained everything. “What does the pattern tell you?”

“That you like women in power.” You answered plainly. “Me, now in the FBI and everything else I’ve done. Madani, in Homeland with what I would assume is solid standing. Next thing you know, you’re gonna bed a senator.”

“I’ll still come back to my best girl.” He smiled, tapping under your chin with a click of his tongue.

“Yeah, like there was any competition.” You chuckled.

“When’d you get back?” He nodded towards you, decidingly dropping your previous conversation topic.

“Week ago. I thought about coming by, decided not to.” A slight shrug of your shoulder.

“Why not?” He almost sounded hurt.

“Just tired. Needed sound time to settle in.”

“Yeah?” He leaned in slightly and raised his brows. “How about we spend some quality time tonight then, hmm? You got any other plans?”

“Hmm.” The corner of your mouth lifted to a small smile. “I’ll have to check my schedule, Mr. Russo.”

He clicked his tongue and leaned back, wagging his finger at you with an amused smirk of his own. “I missed hearing you say that, pretty lady.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.” You nodded and sipped your drink.

You spent a little while longer drinking with Billy, catching up and teasing each other playfully. It was almost enough for you to forget what you had been asked earlier that night, to involve yourself in Frank’s latest crusade that he likely expected to cover on his own. Finding Frank would’ve been easy enough if you had a general direction to go in, but where could be? Would he be going after Micro or would he be taunting Micro to go after him again?

If this guy was as much a spook as Karen’s been led to believe, it wouldn’t be easy to draw him out. But knowing Frank, he would find a way to pull him out of his hidey-hole. Which meant you could follow your own leads tonight and potentially meet him, or you could worry about it tomorrow and waste a night with an old fling.

Billy was tempting… And Frank would be fine for one more night, wherever he was.

[cityandking]

22, 23, and 26 for kol, minah, and eniko!

thanks!!! // oc ask game

22. do they sleep well at night?

KOL — she sleeps okay. she tends to try to wipe herself out and/or drink herself to sleep, so she can usually count on a solid few hours of uninterrupted rest. she has nightmares and bad dreams sometimes, but she usually tries to get back to sleep after. if they keep her up she’ll just. push through. she’s really good at pushing through. maybe too good?

MINAH — she sleeps badly and he has wild crazy nightmares. they were kinda mild pre-blight but since joining the wardens they’ve gotten so much worse, and not just because of the archdemon and the blight (though that doesn’t help). her dad features a lot more these days, which is kinda unfortunate. she thought she’d put that ghost to rest :/

ENIKO — he has horrible nightmares. mostly about Sir, sometimes about other things. he feels like after so many years he should finally be able to get some proper sleep? but no. woe nightmares be upon you

23. how would you describe their voice? can they sing?

KOL — she has a fairly distinct RP accent, crisp and kinda posh but a wee bit rough around the edges and on the deeper side tonally. she’s got an okay singing voice; her range is kinda narrow but within it she sounds nice. she’s got better sense of tempo than pitch

MINAH — a warm, rolling brogue. I think her vocal tone is probably a little higher than my own when I RP her but honestly her voice is pretty easy to do. she's an excellent singer—she’s got a good ear, a good range and can carry a tune well

ENIKO — he has a surprisingly rich and warm voice given the *waves hand* everything about him. a distinctive accent that I will never be able to recreate again but that’s kinda vaguely eastern european? (modern AU I headcanon him as hungarian.) he has a good singing voice. nothing outrageously good but better than you’d expect given what a miserable guy he is.

26. how do they move? are they clumsy? light on their feet? do they use mobility aids?

KOL — kol moves light and quick during a fight; outside of combat she tends to be a little slower/more grounded. she was clumsy when she was growing into her height, but she’s trained hard to regain/maintain the speed and grace she needs to be a good fighter. between the training, the stature, and her attempts to mask both, she tends to end up stalking and striding a lot—kinda hunched, kinda looming but very precise in how/where she moves. wading bird energy

MINAH — minah is super graceful. I think she’s got some dancer’s habit, walking on the balls of her feet or something like that. she’s light-footed, has excellent balance and is generally well aware of the space around her.

ENIKO — niko has a predator’s grace—he’s pointed and direct and generally economical with his movement, but still lightfooted. I think, given the brutal work he puts his body through, he’d eventually end up with a cane, which he’d find funny in an incredibly bleak way. try as he might he's never going to escape his own past.

[marokra]

Thinking abt ur OCs u say?

You should ramble abt them!! :3 (if u want!!)

ok so!!!!!! gonna take this as an opportunity to introduce my blorbo Hui Bàolì (or Bàolì Hui. depends on if you are talking the english name order or the chinese name order. rule of thumb her chosen name is Hui) to tumblr proper!!!

i recently redesigned her and i’m actually pretty happy with how it looks so i’ll definitely be drawing her more often

please keep in mind the backstory (creation to be MK’s foil) is based on the vauge s5 spoilers i’ve seen (i haven’t watched the season yet) so it’s subject to change if it does not work with the storyline of the season at all

anyways more ramblings & transcribed text—bc my handwriting is awful and no sharpness adjustments can fix it—under the cut

EDIT 10/4/24: ive realized i misspelled nüwa as nawa in the info that got transcribed. however, im not changing the transcribed text to the correct spelling in order to provide an accurate transcription. im sorry, genuinely didn’t mean to misspell her name. i think i got it mixed up with auburnitzy’s oc nawa, their names are very similar

transcribed text time fuck yeahhhh

Top middle section

Hui Bàolì!

The Foil

Born from a similar stone to MK, Nawa created them as his foil in order to balance things out. She became Macaque’s daughter student after he saw her digging through the trash for food (and using shadow powers to make a shelter for himself)

Top right section

quite a bit younger than MK, in their mid-late teenage years

Top left section

Paralyzed tail, needs a cane to walk so they don’t lose their balance

Middle left section

s1-s2 Hui! yes she discovered her Monkie form (while on the streets. part of the reason Macaque took her in) she just doesn’t like using it around ppl she doesn’t know

Bottom section

uses her cane as a weapon in battle

(arrow pointing upwards to next bit)

has to support himself w/ shadows

TRANSCRIBED TEXT TIME OVER!!!

anyways its rambling time

- Hui uses any pronouns, but they prefer She/He/They

- gender? wouldn’t you like to know weather boy

- Hui “hatched” a few years later than MK, ending up homeless on the Megapolis streets soon after. most of her childhood was spent in the alleyways so she had to learn how to defend herself early, discovering her powers before she came into contact with Macaque. however, she had no idea how to properly control them

- after Macaque took her in, he taught her combat skills and how to control and use her powers. Along with that, he also taught them the art of shadow plays, and they were like “woahhhhh cool! this is going to be my motif for forever now!!!!” and Macaque was like “what” and then they started using their shadows as puppet strings to fling stuff into walls & control people’s movements on the regular

- yes he can see through that blindfold. no there is not a lore reason for him wearing it. he just thinks it’s fun

- when MK was training under Macaque he was constantly asking Hui questions abt it. he kept trying to talk to her but she wouldn’t budge at all because she knew what the end goal of all of this was, and even if it would be satisfying to watch his smile fade as he realizes a “friend” was in on the plot all along, they didn’t wanna bother. also bc they were a liiiiiittle jealous of MK. just a little

- Macaque is the only one Hui can properly open up to

- her puppeteer motif and identity, of course, caused very interesting showings of The Hero and the Warrior before MK started showing up and she decided to move backstage to make sure MK did not notice the Extremely Obvious And Identifying Magic Use that came from her assisting in the plays

- after Mayor comes in contact with Macaque, she starts panicking. she knew the bone demon would find him eventually but she didn’t expect it to be this soon—

- needless to say, she seeks out MK because they know he’s one of the few people who are aware of her existence. he of course is wary of her due to his past run-in(s) with Macaque and Hui. however he does agree to train with her at least once because a sparring partner would do her a world of good and also because he’s secretly relieved he’s not the only one who knows about LBD anymore

- said training session was the one in the s2 finale. oops! she’s being dragged along to save the world now. she feels so out of place (bc maybe she is. she has never been the hero type, too selfish and apathetic to even fit the bill for being a hero. it’s not worth trying to fit in with them.) that they basically hole themselves up in a spare room on the plane jet thingymabob until they crash underwater and have a heart to heart w/ MK in the prison cell

- she eventually gets more comfortable around them, but not comfortable enough to spill his guts obviously. he still does not trust them, and they feel like the others share the same sentiment. it’s not like they would spill their guts to anyone anyways. hiding behind a mask yippiiiiiie!

- regularly denies that Macaque is a parental figure for her. she is lying to herself. Hui pls get your shit together

- they get more comfortable with using their monkie form full time over the course of s3. its actually way more comfy for them compared to their stuffy human form

- s3 shenanigans. they’re so done with everyone here

- unfortunately for him, said s3 shenanigans had dragged him into the Main Character Friendgroup. woe is the one who gets found familied

- also unfortunately for him, being dragged into the Main Character Friendgroup had caused them to be thrown into the ink scroll alongside Mei and MK because MK contacted Hui thinking he’d know something about what happened. they did not, in fact, know

- girl please you can’t keep collecting trauma like pokémon cards HUI YOURE SUPPOSED TO BE THE FOIL. STOP PULLING AN MK HERE. HUI

- aroace everything repulsed king. who needs romance when you have The Horrors

- Hui is rivals with one of my other ocs, RC (full name Realm Chaser). they’re a “demon” who has the power to travel across realms by will and teleport (they’re not a demon, they’re actually a Realm Hopper, which is a species that my friend @starboundsingularities created!!!!! this is only scratching the surface of the realm hopper/watcher (not mcyt watchers) lore he came up with but i’m not explaining it here bc itll be like 5 blocks of text and it’s not my concept to begin with, i just borrowed it for RC)

- ADORES Bai He. Hui had never been great with kids, but when she ran up to him and Macaque shortly after being unpossessed begging for self defense lessons because their powers and fighting skills were so cool and she wanted to know how to do that, how to protect herself, Hui decided that maybe it would be worth trying to be good with kids, just this once

- his hair clips are meant to mirror macaque’s 6 ears

- her and MK’s duo name is Sunstone Duo! MK being the sun and Hui being the stone even though technically both of them are the stone but MK didn’t know he was a monkie when he came up with the name and it’s too late to change it now

- eats rocks

[ordinalastronaut]

From Now Until Forever (pt.3)

a/n : a follow up to chapter one (technically). Back to Maria's POV with some other friendly faces in the mix. I think I have one more chapter in the tank on this story before it's over. After that, I might move it to AO3, I might not, no clue but I hope you enjoy and have a great week, reader

summary : Maria's trying to come to terms with a life altering injury while returning to the life she no longer has. Natasha just wants her wife to be happy.

Other tags: established blackhill, mentions of injury, tattooed Maria Hill, because I can't help it, supportive Natasha, best friend Laura to the rescue, Service dog mentioned

word count : 2.7k

❖𐅡❖𐅡❖𐅡❖𐅡❖𐅡❖𐅡❖𐅡❖𐅡❖𐅡❖𐅡❖𐅡❖𐅡❖𐅡❖𐅡❖𐅡❖𐅡❖

“Alright so it looks like we just need two cans of tomatoes and some garlic and that should do it,” Natasha looked up from the list Laura had sent them with. 

Maria pushed past the fatigue that slowly crept over the right side of her body, not wanting to think about the cane she had left in the car. She had made her decision and now she needed to stick by it. 

“The garlic is on the other side of the store,” the brunette motioned with her left hand, “If you want to go get it, I bet you’ll still beat me to the end of the aisle if I pick up the tomatoes.”

“Are you just saying that so you get to see that dog by yourself?” Natasha used her chin to motion to the service dog that was walking dutifully next to its owner in front of them.

“Who? Me?” Maria pretended to gasp, “I’d never deny you the opportunity to look at a dog. I think I explicitly said that in my vows.”

“That’s true,” the Russian nodded and looked once more at the list and then back to the produce section with a sigh, “okay fine, meet you back here after I get the garlic, no dog looking without me.”

The Commander smiled, nodded, and tried her best not to look like she was about to collapse as she took the cart in her hands and ever so slowly pushed it down the aisle. Section by section she balanced the task of staying upright and searching the cans of tomatoes for the right brand. Her occupational therapist would be over the moon at her “real-world application” of multitasking. 

She was halfway down the row when she finally found them and used the item in her hands to keep her from falling over. The wheels held as she bent down, but seemed to have a mind of her own as she stood up and went careening into the cart next to her. 

“Sorry,” Maria ground out as she regained control of the shopping cart, willing the embarrassment out of her cheeks as her hands threatened to spasm and drop the can in her left hand. 

“No problem at all,” the man gave her a broad smile as he straightened out his own cart. 

That was when Maria noticed the other aspect of the man, his left leg ended in a sleek black prosthetic. She only felt bad about staring for half a second when she realized the man was taking in the surgical scars that marred most of the tattoos she had. 

“They looked better a little over a year ago,” she joked and forced herself not to turn her body to hide the right side. 

“Would you believe me if I said I had a calf tattoo up until a few years ago?” The man laughed and motioned to his leg, or lack thereof.

Maria winced as she placed the cans in her cart, “bummer.”

“Blake,” the man stuck out his hand. 

“Maria,” the Commander offered hers back, knowing that her handshake would be nothing of what it once was. 

“This is Molly,” he motioned to the dog in front of him, “you can pet her if you’d like.” 

“My wife’s going to lose her mind if she finds out I got to pet this cutie,” and yet she couldn’t help but stick her hand out and let the dog sniff it before scratching right behind her ear.

Molly’s tongue flopped out of her mouth as she soaked up the affection. 

“You two dog people?” Blake asked with another easy smile. 

“Oh yeah, we were about to rescue one before…” she motioned with her left hand to the other side of her body, “and nowit doesn’t seem like it’s in the cards.”

The man hummed, “I’m the opposite, never a big fan of them before the accident. Now I couldn’t picture my life without her.”

Maria got one final dog pet before she looked up again. “That’s really nice.”

A few minutes passed as they continued to talk, and Maria continued to pet the dog in front of her. She had learned that they were local and had offered up that she and Natasha were just in town visiting. They both wanted to ask about the other's injuries, but they both kept their questions to themselves. 

“She’s spoiled rotten, I can tell you that much,” Blake laughed, “I swear when I take her to the VA she doesn’t even look at other dogs, thinks she’s one of the humans.”

“She should,” Maria smiled, “I’ve spent my fair share of time in the VA, everyone who works in those buildings deserves to be pampered.”

“You ever thought about a working dog?” Blake asked, genuine interest in his features, “A service dog?” 

“Oh- no, no I-” she shook her head and grabbed onto the��handle of the cart once more for stability, “my mobility is pretty much tapped out after a grocery trip. I’m in no shape to look after a dog.”

“There are actually a lot of dogs who are great for mobility and low maintenance-”

Whatever else he was about to say was cut off by a slight squeal from the other end of the aisle as Natasha’s eyes got even bigger now that she saw the proximity of Maria’s hand to Molly’s head. 

“My wife,” Maria chuckled as the Russian speed walked to where they stood. 

“May I?” Natasha didn’t bother to introduce herself as she buzzed with excitement next to the dog. 

“Go for it,” Blake smiled and pulled out his wallet from his back pocket, “listen, if you ever want to learn more, I’m part of a service dog support group. Lots of good working dogs, and even more washed-up vets like me.”

Maria took the card in slightly shaking hands, intending to stick it in her own pocket and never look at it again.

“Give me a call if you want to learn anymore,” Blake smiled, “might not seem as impossible to have someone like Molly as you think it is.”

“Thanks,” she nodded and waved her goodbye to them both as they walked further down the aisle.  

She expected the Russian to make a joke about how Maria did in fact dog-look without her, but instead, the woman just gave her a soft smile as she walked alongside her. Maria continued to push the cart and think about the man not only as they paid for their groceries, but as she helped Laura with dinner. 

“You’re quiet,” the woman pointed out as she used the can opener, “what are you thinking about?”

“I’m… I’m probably not going to get all that much better, Laur,” she flexed her hands under the water as she washed the last cup in the sink. 

The water was blessedly warm and just for a moment allowed her right hand to open up fully. She kept her voice low as she spoke, knowing that Clint and Natasha in the living room wouldn’t let her say such things. 

But Laura was different, she just cocked her head to the side and stirred the sauce in front of her. She always let Maria, or anyone really, speak their minds before she offered any advice. 

“Physical therapy is going well but,” Maria turned off the water and felt her hand once again curled into a fist, “I haven’t made any improvements in the last 6 months. I looked it up and most people online say that this could be me hitting a plateau but some say that it could just be the max of what my body can do now.”

She looked at the jar next to her that she couldn’t open, one that hadn’t even been that tightly screwed on, and sighed.  

“And what do your therapists say?” the woman asked just as quietly. 

“That it’s too soon to tell, but… but I know my body and I don’t think it’s ever going to be the way it used to be.”

“Ria, they told you that from the beginning,” Laura offered. 

She was right the doctors had told her about that, Laura had been present for the conversation, probably more present than Maria given how many painkillers she was on.  

“I thought I would get further before I hit this wall,” she waved her left hand dismissively, “I thought I would have something at least close to my old life.”

“You might, this could just be a plateau that you will work through and get closer to getting to that point again,” Laura added fresh basil to the sauce before turning around and giving Maria her undivided attention, “is it really about not being able to open jars?”

Maria stood and looked at the jar once more, then her hand, before shaking her head. 

“I know that Tasha’s still turning down missions because she’s scared to leave me in DC alone.”

Laura didn’t deny this, didn’t try to make her feel better, she just nodded, “You’re proud and stubborn, and I don’t think the word ‘assistance’ is in your vocabulary Maria Hill.”

The Commander kept her eyes focused on her hands. 

“I think she’s scared that she’s going to go on a mission and come back to… well the worst case scenario for someone who has physical limitations and no intention of asking for help,” the woman took Maria’s scarred hand in her own, “you have to remember, you weren’t the only one who went through something traumatic that day.”

Maria let the hand around her own keep her grounded as she recalled what she had been told. Natasha had seen the video of Maria’s body moments after the bullet hit her and she fell out of the helicopter; she had been one of the first ones to see her both before and after her surgeries. Natasha had thought, multiple times, that her wife would die.  

“It’s going to be hard for her not to worry,” the woman ran her thumb down one of the longer scars on Maria’s hand. 

“I know.”

“Talk to her.”

The brunette nodded knowing that once again, Laura was right. 

She thought about how to say all of this to her own wife, mapping out exactly what to tell her to make Natasha finally return to SHIELD in the way she should. Of course, none of it went to plan and it ended with the same conversation each of these arguments did. 

“Then tell me, Tasha,” Maria sighed, “tell me what it would take for you to get back to the way your life used to be.”

“I don’t need to go back to that life,” the Russian shook her head with a sad smile, “I’m happy with where we are.”

There was some truth to it, but she had known her wife for long enough to know it wasn’t the whole story. She missed going on missions that she was part of from the beginning to the end, not the ones she and Clint took now where they handed it over as soon as they got enough intel.  

“No bullshit Natasha,” Maria reached out and placed her hand on her wife’s thigh as they sat on the edge of their bed in the guest room, “I know you want to go back into the field, for missions that don’t end in you handing over your work to B rate teams.”

The redhead said nothing as she absentmindedly traced over the dark ink that covered most of her wife's arm. The tattoos were no longer perfect, not much outside Natasha was, and so she pushed and asked again. 

“Tasha, tell me, what would it take for you to get back out there?”

Natasha gave her the same look she always did right before she requested the same thing, “you to use the cane and keep your phone on you at every moment of the day.”  

“The phone I can do, I can get better about that,” Maria nodded knowing that she would have to break the habit of it staying in her desk drawer or the coffee table for most of the day. 

“And the cane, Ria,” Natasha pushed. 

The Commander said nothing, they both knew how she felt about the mobility device. She had taken one look at it a few days after she started walking again and focused all of her energy on her lower limb PT for months just so she didn’t have to use it. She hated the sound it made, the way it looked, and more importantly the looks of pity she had when she was forced to use it. 

“It would make me feel better, I wouldn’t worry if I knew you were using it, and if anything happened you would be able to call someone for help,” her wife spoke softly, “without those two things, I need to physically see for myself that you’re okay every day.”

“Then I’ll send you a picture or… or…” the brunette shook her head. 

“You know I can’t look at my phone when I’m in the field most of the time.”

“The cane isn’t magic, it’s not going to guarantee that I don’t fall,” Maria dug her heels in.

“Those two things are the only way I’ll get any piece of mind when I’m gone,” Natasha said firmly in her own position, “I could be gone for days, and if you fell and couldn’t get back up?” 

Maria knew where this conversation was headed, knew that if they discussed it any more Natasha would talk herself out of ever going on a mission again. 

So blue eyes closed for a second as Maria nodded, “I’ll keep thinking about it. I’m going to go get some water.”

Slowly, she exited the room and made her way into the kitchen. She grabbed a plastic cup she was positive she couldn’t break if her hand spasmed and filled it with water. The moon was high in the sky, covering every surface in a cool blue hue as she thought about what her wife was requesting. 

She was being selfish by refusing the cane, it was one small thing for her to change so that Natasha could get back to a little more normality in her life. It needed to be done, she needed to just get over herself and suck it up and do it. Over and over again she told herself that and over and over again she tried to push the pit in her stomach away at the thought of how everyone would stare at her, see her as weak. 

But she loved her wife, loved her enough to do this for her so they could go on living the lives they had always dreamed of. Maria closed her eyes and thought about the life they had pictured, her and Natasha, maybe a kid or two, definitely a dog-

Her mind slowed as she thought about the dog she had seen earlier that day, the one that had helped the man with his everyday life. She shook her head, it wasn’t the same and she would just be trading one reason for stares for another. But it would be different, it would be…

Maria shook her head once more, squared her shoulders, and decided she would tell her wife that she was willing to use the cane, there wasn’t another option. She turned and went to leave the kitchen but stopped as she took in the faded photograph that was in front of her. 

There in the top left corner of the fridge, was one of Maria’s favorite photos of all time, the same one that adorned their own refrigerator at home. A gap-toothed blonde girl and a redhead trying to hide her smile in front of a sign that read “Tiboldt’s Circus”. It was an innocent enough picture, but a closer look revealed a boy in the background getting ready to perform, a bow strapped across his back as he talked to an older blonde teenager. 

Maria Hill didn’t believe in coincidences; for her, everything in life happened for a reason. Including the accident, including her journey to SHIELD, and including the two kids in Ohio who met years before they would end up saving each other in their own ways. 

It took her two tries to pull the business card out of her pocket, her fingers not cooperating in the way she wanted them to, and leaving it on the kitchen table. Tomorrow morning she would call the gentleman, tomorrow morning she would see if maybe there was another option out there. Maybe one that would save her in its own way. 

[a-small-batch-of-dragons]

Golden Era

A prompt for you if you don't mind. Golden Era Merlin fic. Merlin is 30(ish) now but he's been through a lot and he didn't stop trying to do things even when he was healing from injuries. So he gets a staff and uses it as a walking stick. People notice that he stops limping on bad days. He has to explain to people that just because he stopped limping doesn't mean he can stop using the stick, that the stick is the reason he stopped limping. He's irritated by the people who are rude about him using a mobility aid when he's so young (council members and visiting nobles and knights who aren't usually in Camelot). His friends have got his back though. – anon

Read on Ao3

Warnings: random ableism from dicks who get put in their places

Pairings: merthur, can be platonic or romantic you decide

Word Count: 2316

Because even at the height of Camelot's golden age, there will be pricks.

1.

"Oh, here," one of the servants says to him as he approaches the kitchen door, platter for Arthur balanced on one hand, "let me hold that for you."

Merlin goes to offer her the tray, pausing when she instead reaches for his cane. "Er, what are you doing?"

"The walking stick, let me hold it while you carry that up. I'm happy to follow!"

"Why would you hold my walking stick?"

The servant tilts her head to the side. "Would it not be easier to carry the platter with both hands?"

"Yes, but it would be easier to walk with my walking stick."

He can see the moment that realization dawns on her face and mortification quickly follows. She scrambles and stutters her way through an apology, complete with a fumbling bow. "Forgive me, My Lord, please, I—I meant no offense, I didn't mean to—"

"It's alright," Merlin says, seeing how earnest she is and indeed, how unintentional her hurt was, "it is forgotten."

"Of course, My Lord, let me get the door for you?"

"That would be most helpful, thank you—what was your name?"

"Sigyn, My Lord."

"Thank you, Sigyn." She holds the door as he makes it through, platter balanced expertly on one hand. "If you would accompany me to the King's chambers, I could use some help with that door as well?"

"Certainly, My Lord." She follows behind him, her hands folded behind her back. He can see her shooting glances at his walking stick out of the corner of her eye but she's much better at decorum than he was, so she keeps any questions to herself. She opens the door to Arthur's chambers after a swift knock. "Anything else, My Lord?"

"No, that will be all, thank you Sigyn."

She bobbles a curtsy and turns back down the stairs. Merlin shakes his head as he sets Arthur's breakfast down on the table. Arthur glances up with a frown.

"Something wrong?"

"No, no, nothing at all."

2.

He's walking past the training grounds when a blur of movement comes hurtling toward him and he has just enough time to step back before a practice lance whistles past him.

"Sorry! Sorry, M'Lord," one of the squires—probably the one who let go of the lance too early—says in a rush, stumbling past him, "I didn't see you there, it was an accident!"

"No harm done—your name?"

"Malachi, M'Lord."

"No harm done, Malachi, just be sure to keep a grip on that thing, mm?"

"Yes, M'Lord, I will, I—oh." Malachi looks down to see he's picked up Merlin's walking stick instead of the javelin. "Sorry, M'Lord, I don't know who left this lying around."

"Ah," Merlin says quickly when the squire turns to holler at the rest of them, "that's mine."

"Yours, M'Lord?"

"Yes."

"Are you injured in some way, M'Lord?"

Merlin chuckles ruefully. "Truly, where aren't I injured, I'm afraid, Malachi. Perils of the job. You understand."

Malachi laughs too, but more out of politeness and the air of someone who isn't quite sure what the joke is. "Perhaps you should—I don't mean to pry, M'Lord, but perhaps you should be with the physician still?"

"Oh, no, I'm never going back there if I can help it." He waggles his fingers. "If you just give me back my walking stick, I'll be good to go."

The squire doesn't outright refuse, but Merlin has to put a bit more steel into the following now, please, and even then he looks reluctant to let him go. It takes Gwaine's stern barking order to get the squire scampering back to the training field. Gwaine shoots him a look, one that's clearly a thinly veiled am I to trounce this prat thoroughly that he's seen so many times with Arthur. Merlin just shakes his head and motions for them to continue.

I'll be by later, he sees Gwaine mouth and he smiles.

3.

The walking stick clatters to the floor.

Merlin raises an eyebrow and turns his gaze on the three children who peer out from behind the corner of a shop, one with a twig clutched in hand.

"Why did you do that?"

"Sorry, Court Sorcerer, we didn't mean to."

"That twig doesn't look like it'd be good for much else and you were very deliberate in how you swung it," he says, not unkindly, "so, why did you do that?"

They mutter amongst themselves for a moment before the one with the twig shoves another. They stifle a wince and look up at Merlin. "It's a joke from a story, Court Sorcerer. You knock away a walking stick and someone falls over."

Merlin tilts his head. "That doesn't seem like a very funny joke to me. Does it sound like it would be funny if someone tripped you?"

"No, Court Sorcerer."

"What's going on?" Leon, ever the embodiment of patience, comes over in his billowing red cape and all the children immediately stare up at him in awe. Merlin feels some level of offense that he isn't regarded with such awe, no, he gets his walking stick knocked out of his hands, but the rest of him is just happy Leon's here. "Merlin?"

"My walking stick was knocked over as a joke and these three are kindly explaining to me why it is funny."

Leon frowns. "That doesn't sound very funny to me."

"It isn't," the other one without the twig says quickly, "sorry, M'Lord. Sorry, Court Sorcerer."

Leon kneels down. "Let's not do that again, alright? It would be unfortunate if someone got hurt when you were only trying to make a joke."

The other two nod furiously but the one with the twig points at Merlin. "But he isn't old. And he isn't hurt. Why does he need a walking stick?"

"I need a walking stick so that I don't get hurt," Merlin explains as he picks it up, "just like you wear good shoes so your feet don't get hurt."

The child looks down at the twig and throws it away. Leon nods approvingly. "Now, why don't you three run along while I help our friend back to the citadel?"

They nod and scamper off. Leon watches them go before he stands up, coming to stand at Merlin's side. "Are you alright?"

"I'm fine, Leon. Let's go."

4.

The visiting noble takes one look at him and scoffs. "You know, if you wanted to have a Court Sorcerer, you could have one without the pomp and circumstance."

Arthur turns his head in that slow way where really he's giving the person a chance to take back their words. "Excuse me?"

The noble, deep in his cups already, gestures sloppily at Merlin. "The staff really isn't necessary. You could just dress him up if you wanted something to look at."

Merlin's grip on his walking stick tenses slightly. Arthur looks as if he's about to order the noble to be dragged off to the dungeons already when Lancelot speaks up.

"I am glad your injuries have not prevented you from joining us this evening, though if you request things brought to you, I assure you no one here will begrudge you them."

The noble squints at him. "What are you on about? Had too much to drink, have you?"

No, but clearly you have, Lancelot's face says before he smooths it into a diplomatic smile. "Your glasses, My Lord, I couldn't help but notice them. I can assure you that no one in Camelot will think poorly of you because of your eyesight."

The noble paws at his face as though remembering he wears glasses. After he finds them—which takes much longer than it should—he takes them off, squinting at them, before narrowing his eyes up at Lancelot. "Now you listen here. I can see perfectly well with these, I don't need any of your so-called generosity."

"Of course," Lancelot demurs instantly, inclining his head, "it is reasonable for us to presume that you have equipped yourself so that you may carry out your duties and wishes without interruption."

"R-right," the noble stammers, clearly caught off guard.

"After all, is that not the mark of a fine man who knows himself?" Lancelot reaches for a goblet. "To be able to understand precisely what it is he might need, and to know his circumstances so intimately that he may find it?"

"Yes, yes, of course."

"Then to you, My Lord," and Lancelot looks over at Merlin, "and to Merlin, who keeps us safe from things we could otherwise allow to pass unnoticed."

Arthur and the rest of the knights follow his toast, which the noble adds a little too late. Merlin looks over at Lancelot with a single nod of thanks.

Lancelot winks over the rim of his goblet.

5.

"It's a good thing he has magic, otherwise I'm not sure what use he would be. He was a lousy servant."

"If he's already using a cane at his age, what will we do when he gets older? We'll have to replace him entirely!"

"He's just doing it for attention, haven't you noticed? There are days where it just hangs over the crook of his arm, he's not even limping!"

"If you ask me, it's a ploy. A way to get us to lower our guards so that he can slip right under our noses. Have to watch out for these sorcerers, you know."

Arthur finds him sitting on the edge of his bed, looking down at the handle of his walking stick. He closes the door quietly, coming to sit next to him, offering a warm and sturdy shoulder to lean against.

"It's alright that I use this," Merlin asks in a quiet voice, "right?"

"Yes, Merlin, it's more than alright. If you need it, you should use it."

"But I don't always need it. Sometimes walking isn't a problem."

"But you still want to use it, right, because then it makes sure that walking remains not a problem."

"I know, I know, I just—" Merlin takes a deep breath and it comes out a little shakier than either of them would like. "How am I supposed to protect you when I can't bloody walk?"

"You protect me the same way I protect you," Arthur says, turning his chin with a gentle hand, "by doing your best. You've shown that you don't need to be a great fighter or a great battle tactician to fight the magic that would come for me or for Camelot. You don't need to put your comfort aside for that. Well, any more than you already do."

"…thanks."

"Of course, Merlin," Arthur says softly, wrapping his arm around his shoulders, "now, who's made you upset?"

A chuckle. "What, do you want a list?"

"Yes."

"Arthur!"

"Merlin."

+1

"Camelot will fall," growls the nameless sorcerer of the month who hasn't gotten the idea that Camelot is no longer actively pursuing magic users, aiming what looks to be a poor imitation of a sword in the direction of the patrol, "and I will use its bones to build my throne!"

Bone throne. How garish.

Arthur barks a command and the knights draw their swords, holding out his hand to steady his horse. "You don't want this fight. Camelot has no quarrel with you."

"Silence! I will not allow your pretty words to dissuade me!" He begins to raise the…thing above his head in what is probably supposed to be a threatening way. "Not when I've come so far, not when I am so close to triumph!"

The knights ready themselves for what was probably going to be a big blast of concussive magic that blows them back almost twelve yards, throwing their limp bodies against the trees like ragdolls as their swords clatter to the ground, mangled bits of shrapnel. There was probably going to be a thunderous clap as a shockwave emanated from the source of the blast, sending out a piercing ray of blue light that near blinded them. It was probably going to be very, very impressive.

Oh, wait, that's what Merlin did.

He sighs as the would-be conqueror dissolves into a dust cloud, his cloak and ruined 'sword' lying in tatters on the ground. He picks his walking stick back up from where he'd struck the ground and fastens it back to the saddle.

"You'd think they'd get a little more creative."

When no witty response comes to his quip—which was an excellent one, thank you—he turns to see all of them staring at him with a little more than stunned silence.

"What?"

"Have you just been able to do that the whole time," Gwaine asks eventually, weakly gesturing to the walking stick, "or was that…new?"

"I'm not sure I should tell you."

"I'm choosing to believe that it was the stick. That's the much less scary option."

"Less scary than underestimating me?"

"Whoa, whoa," Gwaine says, quickly wheeling his horse out of the way when Merlin teasingly aims the end of his stick in that direction, "point that thing somewhere else!"

Merlin just chuckles as they resume riding. He can't give up all of his secrets, can he?

[viisiond]

CHARACTER INFO- MATEO AMZY (OC)

Name: Mateo Amzy Alias: Buer’s protector, Head Sage of Spantamad, The second sage of Buer Age: 21 (7/7) Height: 5′10″ Affiliations: Sumeru Akademiya

Personality: Unpredictability is his middle name. Mateo is an individual shrouded in mystery in Sumeru Akademiya's campus despite being one of it’s many sages in charge, grouchy but still plenty open and a great teacher. Mateo clearly doesn't give a shit about what happens to him so long as he gets to see the one good thing in his life [Nahida & *Rachel] thrive, if they’re allowed that he'll be content. Though Mateo has been shown to show favoritism towards specific people, taking in Rachel as his personal student and the next protector to Nahida, he slowly began to open up to the other little by little despite being the most closed off person to the world, gaining a fatherly attachment to the girl and to the Archon the more he grew to know her. (going as far as to letting Nahida use him as a vessel should she wish to walk around.) Mateo’s loyalty to Nahida & Rachel knows no bounds despite being incredibly guarded. Mateo, while also being the youngest to ever become a sage to the Akademiya, is not respectful to authorities. He despises being told what to do and will often taunt them or be completely disrespectful towards them, he does not give a shit what happens. This also goes towards the Fatui (especially Dottore.) Diagnoses: Eleazar (Cured post Sumeru), PTSD, Depression

Family: Yasir Amzy (Father) Elvira Amzy (Mother) Oscar Amzy (Older Brother) Leo Amzy (Older Brother) Iesha Amzy (Little Sister)

Vision: Dendro Weapon: Polearm Constellation: Noctifer (Night Bringer)

OTHER [SOME OF THIS IS CANON TO MY PORTRAYAL OF NAHIDA]: - He is one of many who has eleazar in Sumeru and it’s effected him to the point he could have died from it on multiple occasions. Mateo carries a cane (that does turn into his polearm) around to keep his balance. His Eleazar has effected his arms and legs as well as his nerves (Mateo also experiences bouts of false pain and fatigue.) - Mateo did end up becoming Nahida’s vessel once she revealed herself to Dottore within Katheryne (he knows she doesn’t like doing it but he wasn’t about to get her caught), however this backfired on him as it got both Nahida and Mateo’s consciousnesses trapped- leaving Mateo to the doctor’s devices and his control upon waking. Forcing him to fight Rachel during the Coup to rescue Nahida. - After that fight, Mateo gained a few scars but the most noticeable would be on his temple. He also lost his hearing due to Rachel destroying his Akasha terminal. - In the past, to keep him out of their hair, Mateo was assigned to keep a close eye on Nahida- but that soon turned into a bond that he refused to let go of and it caused him to change his outlook on life to live for her... (It also made him reject the false god project several times. He refused to do it because of his attachment to Nahida.)

*= RACHEL BELONGS TO TEVYXNT!!!!

[cigarettesandinevitablebetrayal]

Hey hi for the character design ask—

Motion for Rashad, hair for Remus, stillness for Seongwon, for Mateo, change for Corinthian, and favorite for Cassian? :)

Oh! You forgot Mateo. Let me know what the question was and I'll answer it!

motion: How does your OC move? How does their clothing help or hinder their range of motion? Are they flexible, coordinated, clumsy?

Rashad used to be incredibly coordinated and, for lack of better word, slinky in the way they moved. Very acrobatic and a bit like a striker.

In their fall during the HBI, they suffered a basilar skull fracture that has since given them no end of trouble. On of the aftereffects is a persistent inner ear problem that affects their balance. They've gotten much clumsier since and walk with a cane to help mitigate the issues. Luckily, the Heartbreak armor also helps with it, bringing them back to near peak form.

hair: How does your OC wear their hair? Does it have some kind of meaning?

Remus keeps his hair pretty much unstyled and layered down to just above his shoulders. He loves his natural curls, even with the frizz, and so he tries not to do to much with it aside from keep it nicely conditioned.

Before he transitioned, it was just a little bit longer. He did cut it very short a little after he came out, but decided he hated wearing it short and grew it back out. He thinks having it short doesn't flatter his face. And it made him look too young.

stillness: How does your OC act while still? Are they fidgety? Do they have any common gestures or tics? Does their clothing affect how they hold themselves while at rest?

Aside from Corin, Seongwon is perhaps my most still Sidestep. She doesn't fidget a lot. Quite the opposite. She can stay still without issue for hours. But she does glance around a lot. Always looking around, watching her surroundings, ready to move, should she need to.

Her clothes don't really affect how she hold herself. If anything, it obfuscates how she's holding herself most times. Hard to see the tension in her shoulders underneath a large military field jacket.

change: Has your OC ever drastically changed their appearance? Significant haircuts, big tattoos, complete wardrobe swap, etc? Why? How do they feel about the change?

Well, there's obviously his transition, but I think I'll focus more on how much he changed between his Sidestep and Simulacrum eras, because that change feels more impactful.

So, in his Sidestep days, Corin actually looked a lot like Herald does now. Blonde curls just a couple shades lighter and green eyes after the Void altercation, but very similar. After the HBI, Corin kept his hair much shorter, grows his beard, and dresses less flashy. He's mostly ambivalent about the changes. The hair and clothes are more for comfort and ease of life. The beard was a little treat for himself. A sign of reclaiming autonomy.

He did really hate when his eyes never went back from green to blue. It wasn't so much that he was attached to the color they were before, but more that the new one felt like another scar he can't escape. And Julia always said she liked the color before. Now, when she mentions it, it feels like a consolation. He's grown used to it over the years.

favorite: Does your OC have a favorite article of clothing or accessory? What is it? What's the meaning behind it? Do they wear it all the time or do they wear it sparingly to keep it safe?

Honestly, I don't think Cassian has a favorite article of clothing. The closest thing might be his snake bite piercings. He feels they were the first thing that really distanced himself from the persona of Ricardo's Girl. Made him look like dainty and soft. A sharper edge.

Going forward, if he ever gets a clean escape from the mess he's in at the end of Retri, a lot of Daniel's clothes are going to become his favorites.They're about the same size, so Cass is going to "borrow" all sorts of things.

Find more OC Design Questions here!

[wolfbirdguy]

I'm posting like crazy today have fun with that

North Star incident maxxing.

I've done quite a bit of research on burn survivors and burn recovery as well as harmful stereotypes in media etc etc to help me better with North.

1st drawing was done before the 2nd and I would do her scars differently as well as give her compression garments but whatever its fine.

1st drawing ramble:

Following the death of Faramund and her father North was a MESS. She was 10 almost 11 when they died and was around 11-12 when she finally got out of the hospital.

During her stay in the hospital her mama made her the silly salmon hat and it was a semblance of safety and warmth in a time where she was utterly miserable. Once she was back in her own home she broke down seeing her and Faramunds shared bedroom again and still seeing her fathers old ragged coat which he refused to get rid of still on the coat hook. He started wearing Faramunds shirt everywhere and wore Wylies coat. She had great trouble sleeping due to violent nightmares.

Throughout middle school she was obsessed with death, specifically dead bugs. We love grief and autism. (Inspired by Shouko's younger sister Yuzuru from A Silent Voice) She would collect little dead bugs in her fanny pack. Sometimes she'd even find bones of small animals. If she was lucky a full dead mouse. Her mama found it disgusting but didn't reprimand her. She just made sure she washed her hands and was careful.

She walked around outside a lot and had no friends. She only got through middle school because of her special education teachers who helped her to complete the few assignments she actually did.

She wore the hat everywhere. It's where her love of hats began.

I will be drawing her in highschool and talking about that too at some point so stay tuned.

The second drawing is just to further elaborate on her recovery. She spent 6 months in the hospital recovering directly after the incident, with physical therapy continuing after to improve her range of motion, mobility, and general reintegration into her daily life. Thankfully she had a wonderful care team minus a few doctors who were gnarly.

North wears compression garments of a few types pretty regularly, though less than she used to. Once she exited the hospital she had ones similar to the ones drawn above, covering as much of the scarring as possible to aid in her recovery. For her hero career, she began attending more consistent physical therapy to ensure she wasn't hurting herself and that her mobility fit her career. She wears a compression sleeve, gloves, and socks throughout her early hero career and then wears them depending on how she feels by the time she's mentoring Tokoyami.

Additionally, North will have a cane she uses sometimes for help with balance, mobility and pain. After all, she has chronic pain (burns + rheumatoid arthritis) and teaches Tokoyami heroism whilst understanding the limitations of your body. A lot of North's character revolves around guidance. She teaches him that being a hero doesn't equal self sacrifice and how to care for others whilst maintaining care for yourself. (Don't set yourself on fire to keep others warm)

[cullen-cannons]

Hunger Games AU Part One: The Reaping

(A/N: Sorry for no summary, I'm lazy. This is probably bad because I wrote it late at night, but anyway here you all go. If you like it let me know and I'll continue it. Also, I can't remember if I posted the character profiles or not so . . .)

EDWARD

As soon as her name leaves Libby’s lips everything stops. Except for me, and I feel the words rising in my throat and coming free before I’ve even thought it through and I know that Carlilse and Esme will be devastated but I can’t help it. If she enters the games she'll surely die, and I can’t fathom a world where she doesn’t exist.

“I VOLUNTEER AS TRIBUTE!!!”

For a moment everything fades into the background. And then the illusion is broken. The crowd is in shock. I have a good life, far better than most, they must think I’m insane to volunteer but I have to, for her. 

“Oh my!” Libby exclaims, “I haven’t even gotten to the boys side yet, so eager! How wonderful! Now tell me dearest, what is your name?”

Everyone knows my name. I look behind Libby to the stage where the victors sit. Carlisle hides it better, his face a mask of sadness and disappointment. But Esme, her face displays clear horror and she sobs into Carlilse’s shoulder.

“My name is Edward Cullen.” I tell her. I say it proudly, I have a mission now: keep Isabella Swan alive. I will not fail. I can’t.

“Oh how the plot thickens, excited for your own chance at glory I bet, who wouldn’t be?” She’s all smiles, turning towards the crowd as if expecting an answer. Does she actually think she’ll get one? I almost laugh but my parents' faces stop me.

Disgust washes over me. How could she call this glory? Isabella Swan is never going to have glory, putting her in these games is like watering an orchid with acid.

I don’t answer, instead I make my way over to Isabella. She looks pale as ever but not nervous. I hear her say “Bye Mom” gently and the woman behind her starts to sob. Isabella just smiles and waves and proceeds toward the stage. She walks with steady steps only, her left leg doesn’t seem to be cooperating, it locks up and she sways, I get to her just before she falls. 

She mouths a small “thank you.” as I help her to her feet, and I can tell that she isn't only talking about me catching her.

I take her hand to help her balance and we walk toward the stage, her calm aura keeps my steps slow and even. I want to run to my father and mother and tell them how sorry I am and why I have to do this, but Isabella keeps me grounded.

When we get on stage Libby’s smile is wide and shining, creepy. 

“Alright you two, shake hands for us.”

Isabella looks dazed, and I’m hesitant, afraid that she’ll fall if I let go but she gives me the slightest nod, so I do. We rejoin hands as soon as the handshake is complete.

The Mayor comes back out and says the closing words and then they march us into the justice building.

I watch helplessly as Isabella struggles to walk even with her cane. How could she have been chosen, what has she done to deserve this? The unfairness makes me want to scream and cry and be sick but I just turn my back and walk away, but not before smiling at her over my shoulder. I hope she saw it.

CARLISLE

I hate myself for it but as soon as they say her name I wince. My first thought is that her best bet is to let herself be put down quickly during the initial fight at the cornucopia. Of all the girls in District 7: how could the powers that be allow this?

I really hope that Edward doesn't . . . No, he wouldn’t, he knows the risks all too well. I allow that thought to assure me.

I immediately find my son, Edward’s face in the crowd. He looks frozen and then determined (why?)  . . . and then he volunteers.

My entire body turns cold. Just what I feared. But I can’t bring myself to be upset because I know exactly why he did it. He did it for her. Because he loves Isabella Swan, more than his own life apparently. And I know Esme knows this too, I let her rest her head on my shoulder and let her tears soak my jumper.

Even being a victor, I get no special privileges or say in the reapings. All that I can do for the two children now is to help them as best as I can.

My heart aches for them, for my son and the girl he loves. Isabella Swan, so kind and sweet and caring. Despite all her ailments and disability she still cares for her mother and supports her. Whenever she can, she works as a secretary in my clinic and I’ve gotten to know her so much that it feels as if two of my children are being sent to the games

I’m too distracted to hear what the district escort, Libby, says to the crowd about Edward but I see him walking quickly towards Isabella.

I watch as they both walk toward the stage. Edward with worry behind his determination and Bella with resignation. She smiles and waves goodbye to her mother. Bella looks ill, she usually does, with her pale parlour, naturally skinny but definitely underweight frame, and limp.

We feed her when we can but she’s always reluctant to partake in meals with a family she feels isn’t hers. And I think that she gives the food we give her to the younger children that are less fortunate than her, not that I mind I only wish that she’d let us help her.

Her limp is from an accident when she was very young. Most of the time she lacks feeling in her left leg and has trouble controlling its motion. Sometimes she does feel it, and it causes her burning pain. No one knows exactly what’s wrong but I think I know how I could help her. However, we don’t have nearly enough resources here in District 7, it’s a miracle she’s made it this long. She’s a fighter. Maybe her intellect will save her, I can only hope.

I can do nothing but watch as she stumbles down the aisle to the stage. Edward is quick to catch her and they hold hands as they walk. Edward smiles but it’s a practised charm, covering what I’m sure must be heartbreak.

When they reach the stage their hands don’t part. I’m not sure if it’s a symbol of friendship or if she’s having a dizzy spell again. I suspect the latter but hope for the former. They’ve always been civil to each other but Isabella keeps her distance with everyone.

Libby commands them to shake hands and after a second of deliberation they do.

The proceedings go on for another minute and then Edward and Isabella are taken back into the little rooms in the justice building to say goodbye to their families. 

Edward could win, I’m sure of it, but I know that with isabella involved he won’t let himself. I feel my wife slump down further against me, as if lost the will to support her own weight, and I say a prayer. 

Slowly we rise from our seats and go to say goodbye to our son.

ISABELLA

My name sounds fanciful on the escort’s lips, not plain Bella, but Isabella Marie Swan. 

Someone elegant, regal even. I barely recognise the name as belonging to me. 

Before I can even move a boy’s voice rises from the crowd, his voice. Edward Cullen volunteers as tribute. We both know he can’t volunteer in my place because I’m a girl so what the hell is he thinking? Does he think he can save me? His jaw is set not with pride but determination and it all makes sense, he intends to protect me. What a fool! Why?

Why would he risk his life for me? How can he give up the security he has, how can he do this to his family, to Carlisle, to Esme?

He doesn’t need to die for me, I don’t want him to die for me. He has a family who loves him . . . I love him, and I won’t let him sacrifice himself for me. But since he’s here now . . . I might as well use this to my advantage. I’ve accepted my fate, I am going to die, games or no. But he doesn’t have to. The only question is how much he respects me, will he be willing to do what I need him to?

My mother begins to shake and I’m not going to have her cry on me so I turn to face her quickly.

“Bye Mom.” I tell her. The statement is simple and I let my tone convey all it needs to. I’ll see her again in the visiting room. The tears begin to flow, I smile and wave and walk away. 

Or I try to walk, but my left leg refuses to move, like a jammed gear at the paper mill. I can feel the joint grinding together in vain and thin sharp spears of pain creeping up from my foot, through my knee into my thigh, fast and stabbing, deep, like an electric shock. Lighting in my veins, I fight to silence the gasp before it can escape. No one would blame me, or even be surprised but I must remain totally calm, my parents will not see me suffer. I won’t allow it.

The stinging turns into icy cold and I feel my leg beginning to turn hard, the muscle becoming stiff and motionless. I won’t fall. I will not fall. I can’t fall. I cannot.

 . . . I’m falling.

I can feel it, the air whistling past me as I begin my ungraceful descent to the ground. Before I can actually touch it he catches me. Edward’s arms wrap gently around my waist, safe and secure. The contact sends another electric shock through me, different from the pain, this shock fills me with a warm feeling. I imagine that it’s enough to unfreeze my leg. My leg stays frozen.

Edward steadies me, takes my hand and smiles at the people on stage. I can tell it’s not his genuine smile, it’s too perfect. This is a gentleman, not the boy I’ve seen only in glimpses, but whom I know is there, the one with tousled hair and wrinkled clothes and dark circles under his eyes from staying up all night to write poetry. The one who loves emotional Capitol bands and has a crooked grin.

When we get up on stage I look at Edward’s parents, they look adequately upset that their child just sacrificed himself to the corrupt government. The dizziness overtakes me and black dots obscure my vision, I tighten my grip on Edward. I can’t really see but I think the escort is asking us to shake hands, a stupid request since we’re already holding hands and Edward doesn’t seem to want to let go. I don’t want him to let go either but I know he’ll catch me if I start to fall.

When we do shake hands, the shock comes back and helps snap me out of the dizzy spell. Then, they separate us and my hand burns with Edward's absence.

[eldritch-araneae]

Sparkpulse XI: Vague Hope

Summary: Bumblebee is feeling ill. Nothing extraordinary, just another flare produced by his malfunctioning spark. He tries his best to focus on things that matter, but after recent events, the dread lurks in the back of his mind.

Content warning for self-harm!

Bumblebee wakes up from a dreamless sleep. With optics closed, he lies motionless in the bed. The pain in his chest is wailing, getting stronger with each passing second. He groans and tries to fall back to sleep, but after several minutes he accepts that the rest won't come.

He sighs, he hates it so much. Not only he has to endure the pain that doesn't fully go away after painkillers, but this condition makes him mentally unstable. He feels like the entire world is crushing down on him and there is no escape. Knowing that the AllSpark is missing and Vector Sigma is damaged makes it worse. Doubt sitting in the back of his mind, and he needs a distraction.

The minibot slowly sits up and inspects the room. Windblade is nowhere to be seen. Where did she go? Is she on a mission? Or somewhere in Stronghold? He hopes she's not working herself to struts looking for the information they need to solve this mystery with their memories.

Bumblebee wants to help. It's about him in the end and it feels unfair to just let his amica do all this work alone. Although, if he told her this, she would diffidently insist that he should just rest while he's sick. And she would be right! Yet, Bumblebee's inner voice urges him to act regardless and he will obey. Just carefully without aggravating his condition. The last thing he wants is Ratchet scolding him over self-neglect.

What he should do? Go out and find Windblade? Or he could chill in the bean bag chair and look for the information in Optimus' archives? The moment he thought about the latter, his chest gave him an uncomfortable squeeze.

Alright, no reading today, finding Windblade it is. Which is good since he's getting sick just from spending a week in the same room without going out. The minibot pulls his cane out of his subspace compartment to keep his balance and carefully walks out. He doesn't make it far before he hears voices. He senses Mirage and Cliffjumper, both not being too happy hearing each other.

"So, are you gonna admit you're conspiring with this yellow bug against us?" Cliffjumper asked in a nasty tone. Bumblebee rolls his optics and quietly moves to the edge of the corner to stay out of sight, but still close enough to interfere. Mirage only sighs in reply, knowing it's no use to reason with the red minibot when his paranoia skyrockets.

"Don't give me a silent treatment! This is a security breach! We have too many enemies among us and it's only a matter of time before they gonna execute their plan to strike us down! What will you even gain from this?!" Cliffjumper flails, trying to show the dangerous scenario he's describing.

"You're so annoying," Mirage says in the most chill voice in existence as he leans onto the wall behind him and crosses his arms.

"Why you--" Cliffjumper was about to jump onto the spy with his fists, only to be interrupted by Bumblebee walking out from the corner. Startled, he lets out an ungodly shriek.

"Leave him alone!" Bumblebee wastes no time and whacks Cliffjumper with his cane multiple times, not giving him a single chance to retaliate. "Shoo!"

Cliffjumper gives up and retreats, giving the yellow minibot a death glare over his shoulder. Bumblebee growls before he turns around to check on his taller comrade.

"Thanks." Mirage relaxes and lets out a sigh of relief. "He's been hovering near me for an hour and was getting really on my nerves."

"No problem!" Bumblebee smiles widely, feeling happy for being useful. "Sorry you had to deal with him."

"You know, sometimes I really bothered how black and white his thinking is. This will backfire sooner or later." Mirage rubs the side of his head, trying to soothe the headache Cliffjumper gave him. "On the other hand, maybe this is what he needs to learn."

"Yeah. He hangs out with Sunstreaker simply because he doesn't like me anymore. This can't end well. But it's not my business." Bumblebee huffs and then sighs in defeat. "I still don't understand why me."

"Who knows? Sunstreaker was always jealous of everyone for reasons he never disclosed. And Cliffjumper is paranoid and afraid of change." Mirage shrugs. "Perhaps this is why. You came and set stagnant things into motion. Changes are coming rapidly and not everyone is ready."

Bumblebee frowns, he never considered this. To him, change was always necessary. It's the force that drives progress and evolution. Nothing ever stays static. Even if everything will stop, the arrow of time will push everything forward with the speed of light. But there is nothing he can do about the situation. It's better to change the subject.

"So, are you going to the cafeteria?" He asks.

"Yeah." Mirage nods. "Wanna come with me?"

Bumblebee nods and both start walking. They didn't exchange a word, but he knows Mirage appreciates his company. At least he thinks so since it has always been the case. Although, he notices some recent changes in Mirage's spark that made him worry about the spy.

"How are you feeling?" He asks right away.

"Hm? I'm okay I think." Mirage looks at the minibot in confusion. People rarely ask how he's doing, knowing he doesn't like small talk. "Why?"

"Well..." Bumblebee trails off, knowing this going to sound weird. "I'm just checking on you. Your feelings are more distant than usual."

"What do you mean?" He tilts his head, eying the minibot curiously.

"You look confused, yet your spark gives off nothing. Like it's completely drowned in apathy."

"Oh, strange..." Mirage raises his optic ridge." I don't feel that different for the last few millenniums. I don't really feel emotions that much in general."

"I just used to pick them up when I first came here. Sure, they weren't as intense, as Prowl's for example, but still!"

"Wait, Prowl feels? I thought she's kinda like me, no?" Mirage's optics widen from this revelation.

"You have no idea." Bumblebee giggles, finding the spy's reaction amusing." She may often come off as flat or uncaring, but she actually feels a lot of them. I guess, she's more like me."

"Oh, my stars!" Mirage exclaims and this time Bumblebee feels a little spark of surprise. "I don't know what to think. This is new and completely changes how I see Prowl."

"She cares a lot; I can vouch for this." The minibot smiles. "We all just wired differently."

"Can't argue with that." The spy smiles back. Life keeps giving him surprises even now.

"So, yeah. Just know, that maybe you falling into apathy too much and --" before Bumblebee could finish, his balance was completely thrown off and he would fall if not for Mirage catching him.

"Careful." Mirage holds the minibot still. "Are you sure it's okay for you to be out of bed?"

"Uh." Bumblebee waits for a few seconds for his vision to clear and for balance to return. "Maybe not, but I'm tired of laying all day long. Thanks for catching me."

"Understandable." Mirage nods and offers the minibot his arm to hold onto. Bumblebee thanks his friend and slips his hand into the loop. "I will talk to Lifeline later when I'll get time."

Bumblebee nods, feeling relieved.

-------                                                      

The cafeteria is half-empty. It's nighttime, so most diurnal mechs already went to sleep. Mirage makes sure that Bumblebee stands firm on his feet before going to the counter for some energon.

Bumblebee's optics quickly skims through the current occupants in hopes to find his amica, but unfortunately, she is not there. He was about to continue his search until his optics landed Clobber, sitting alone in the corner. Her optic is deeply focused on her big datapad, her left hand holds a stylus and moves gracefully across the screen. Lockdown once mentioned that she's a great artist!

Before he could stop his rising curiosity, he walked up to her. "Hey."

 "Ah!" Clobber jolts in her seat. Seeing it's just him, she relaxes. "Oh, hi Shad--, I mean,  Bumblebee. Good to see you again!"

"I'm sorry for startling you!" he quickly apologizes, realizing he's being rude right now.

"That's okay, I need a break anyway." She waves it off with a smile.

Bumblebee peeks into her datapad screen and sees a beautiful painting. The main colors are blue, pink, and purple, with colorful accents in many places. It depicts the scenery of a forest. Tall trees stretch so far into the sky that no sunlight reaches the ground. Animals are blending together with the environment, giving a viewer a surprise once their optics catch them. The painting is full of life and wonder.

"The Nigthsong Forest!" the minibot recognizes the place immediately.

Clobber blinks at him in surprise. "I saw this forest in my dream and struck me so much I wanted to paint it. Are you saying it was real?"

"Yes! It was one of the most beautiful and dangerous places on Cybertron. With an absolutely unique ecosystem, you wouldn't see anywhere else! And I can name every flora and fauna on your painting." He says with excitement gleaming in his optics. "I wonder how you know about it. The forest, along with many ecosystems, was gone once Quintessons took over. "

"That's the interesting part - I dreamed about it after your visit! "

"After my visit?"

"Yes. The next night, I was seeing many natural sceneries I had never seen before. And there is also a creature, watching me intently." She points at the shadow on the painting, standing behind tees and emitting a soft blue light from its optics.  

"Woah!" Bumblebee exclaims as he didn't notice it on the painting. The animal is huge yet it blends among gigantic trees perfectly. It definitely belongs in the ecosystem, but for some reason, he doesn't recognize it unlike the rest of depicted animals. "Was it threatening or hunting you?"

"No. Despite its scary aura, it felt benevolent. It would stare at me for a bit, then vanish into the woods without a trace."

"That's so interesting! I wonder what it means... Anyway, your painting is beautiful! You captured the forest like it used to be perfect!"

"Thank you. " Clobber smiles widely. "Wanna see my other paintings?"

"Yes!" he sits closer and they spend a while looking through Clobber's gallery. Bumblebee complement each of them, being amazed at how people can capture their visions and dreams, then translate them into the canvas for everyone to see. He admires her skill, he knows she spent countless years honing her craft.

"You know, I shall do some new studies. It's been a while since I painted other cybertronians. How do you feel about being a model?" Clobber says, growing more amused as she observes Bumblebee's reaction.

"Me?!" the minibot almost jumps in his seat. The pink blushing is visible on his cheeks. "I don't know. I mean I could, I guess. I'm just not photogenic..."

"There is no such thing as photogenic! Everyone is beautiful in their own way."

"Well... In this case, paint me like one of your vosian mechs!"

Clobber explodes in laughter, understanding the reference from an old cybertronian movie. They hung out together a bit more before Bumblebee stood up and continued his search for Windblade. Perhaps he should look outside.                                                                                 

  -------  

Slipstream sits on the ledge above the entrance to the Stronghold. Bumblebee sensed a lot of sadness coming from her spark, so he decided to check on her. She's been like this since she joined them. He hopes it's not because of distrust or conflict coming from the Autobots. He rather takes it himself than let other people deal with it.

The minibot carefully climbs up, trying to not jolt himself and cause more pain. She looks to the side and silently greets him.

"How are you?" He carefully asks and sits by her side. "Is someone bothering you?"

"No, everyone has been nice so far." She shakes her head before she turns to face him. "Except, maybe, the short red one. He always stares at me."

"Ah, that's Cliffjumper." Bumblebee snorts, he is not surprised at all. "Don't mind him, he never trusts anyone. Many of us think he's a direct reincarnation of Red Alert!"

"I can see why." She laughs softly and her mood improved just a little bit. Bumblebee considers it a win.

They sit in silence for a bit, looking into the distance until Slipstream breaks the silence. "I want to ask you something."

"Yes?"

"So... you and Windblade... are bonded?" She asks timidly.

"Yep."

"...Conjux?" She shifts nervously as she continues.

"Nope, Amica."

"Ah! I...see." She quickly trails off. Bumblebee can see her brushing and it didn't take long to realize why.

"Let me guess: you wanted romantic advice! " A smile forms on his face as he leans toward her.

"Shush!" She glares at him. He can't help it, but his smile gets only wider.

"Is this about a certain pink opera singer?" he sing-songs and moves even closer. It's hard to miss when Slipstream's spark swells with emotions every time Arcee is in close vicinity.

"One more word and I'll punt you to the center of the galaxy!" Slipstream accurately points into the sky.

"Just the center of the galaxy? Why not further?" Bumblebee bursts into laughter. Slipstream stares at him for a second before making a motion like she's about to grab the minibot and shake him. The bluff was enough to make him squeak and hide behind his cane. Seeing he was safe, he giggle more, making her facepalm.

"Listen, I know nothing of romance, but I think you should just invite Arcee and see where it goes." He says after his giggles subside. " She loves handing out with people. Especially, with new people!"

"We kinda know each other..." She mutters.

"Oh?! You two have a history? Tell me more!"

"Not exactly." She pulls her datapad and opens a picture showing a huge group of people, standing in rows and smiling at the camera. They hold musical instruments. He spots Slipstream sitting in the second row and holding a violin. "This is the orchestra I used to be part of. We played for many plays, and Arcee would often be in the main role. And she would often come down to us and hang around as she sang. I guess I was her favorite..."

Bumblebee inspects carefully each member. He's not recognizing anyone among the living except Slisptream. His expression saddened, feeling terrible for the violet seeker.

"You know, I really miss playing music."

"You can always pick it back up. There is a music room in Stronghold and many bots hang out there. I'm sure you'll fit!"

"I don't know. It's been a while and I'm not sure if I can. It feels like this side of me died long ago."

"I'm sorry. It must hurt a lot." Bumblebee pauses, choosing words carefully. He wants to help, but he also respects her feelings. "But just know - you're still alive."

Slipstream stares at him. She opens her mouth but immediately closes it. He senses a lot of confusion, but her mind is too occupied with his words. He hopes they will be enough.

-------                                                                              

After Slipstream left, Bumblebee sat on his spot for a while. That conversation served as a grim reminder that they're far from being safe and now so many many things are uncertain.

What are gonna do now without the AllSpark? While he knows Optimus Prime is organizing the search, the hope is feeble. Even if Decepticons are potentially hiding it, it's useless without the Vector Sigma. Which is it's broken and Wheeljack is not sure he can fix it without crucial components. No one has ever done maintenance to this thing that existed since the dawn of their history!

Are cybertronians doomed to go extinct? Is this how the entire sentient species will be gone? With all history and culture going down into oblivion along with them? And they didn't make any contact with potential aliens out there!

"We will be gone and no one will remember us..."  Bumblebee whispers is horror. Despite amnesia, he knows what it's like. His spark wails in pain, forcing him to curl up. This is absolutely terrifying and panic-inducing, making him doubt if his insistence on leaving will do any good, but delay the inevitable. Maybe accepting their fate would be a mercy. Bumblebee feels useless and guilty for not doing what he promised to do. He cries quietly as his mind spiral into despair.

He doesn't want to accept this, but is there anything he can do? The spark of hope is still in him, but it's growing weaker. When he woke up for the "first" time, he knew he had a mission, a purpose. He was supposed to save what remains of cybertronians and get out of this planet!

Frigid tears are rolling down his face. There are so many of them they have no time to evaporate. Bumblebee bites his hand to stifle his sobs, but it's hard to silence the enormous pain erupting from his chest. He doesn't know long he was crying until a pair of gentle hands touch his shoulders. He looks up, but his vision is compromised due to tears frosting over his optics. Then a hand moves from his shoulder and takes his injured palm.

"Bumblebee." He hears Windblade's voice, bringing him a bit of comfort. She wraps her other arm around him while holding his hand tight and close to her chest. He leans into her touch.

"I'm so sorry, Windy... " he wails weakly before a wave of anger surges through his spark. "I'm so sorry. I failed you! I failed everyone!"

"Why?" she asks with sadness in her voice. It pains her to see him like this.

"I wa--wasted time!" Bumblebee choked as more tears rolls down. "I should have been more insistent and direct, instead of playing games and trying to be smart! If I was faster, the AllSpark and Vector Sigma would be ours and we could just leave this place and rebuild elsewhere. But now it's too late!"

"Bee, we're still alive and can leave!"

"We will be gone and it's all MY fault! What leaving will ever give us if we all cease regardless!" he claws at his face with a free hand. He wants so badly to mutilate his face, to rip off his horns, to break his body.

"Stop!" Windblade lets go of his injured hands to grab the other one, then hugs him tightly, giving him no room for movement. He tries to push away, but his amica has an iron grip on him. He gives up, only crying into her shoulder.

Windblade holds him tight and gently, idly caressing the back of his head for a while. Seeing him slowly calming down, she lifts his face to look at her. Bumblebee blinks several times to get rid of the frosting to see her clearly.

"Listen, even if we are going to be extinct, we're still alive right now. Leaving this planet will give us a chance to live normal lives so our last moments wouldn't be filled with fear and despair. And I think it's absolutely worth it." Windblade says softly.

"But if I was faster..." he trails off.

"We don't know that. There is no evidence proving otherwise and if someone has to be responsible for the AllSpark disappearance and broken state of Vector Sigma - is gonna be Megatron. It was under his control and he was supposed to guard it."

Bumblebee opens his mouth to protest, but nothing comes out. He knows she's right, but the guilt is not letting go. He stares at her in disbelief.

"You can't be responsible for things outside of your control."

Bumblebee exhales and gives her a small nod. It's hard for him to accept, but she doesn't want him to suffer. If he can't be kinder to himself for his own sake, he can at least try to do it for her. Windblade smiles and boops his forehead with hers, making him giggle. A small victory, but an important one.

"Wanna stargaze with me? There are no moons today and stars are very bright." She relaxes and looks up, feeling Bumblebee snuggling comfortably against her.

 "Yeah..." he looks up, noting that the stars are indeed bright. His amica's warmth and the beautiful sky right above them are enough to ground him. "I wonder which one will become our new home?"

"I'm excited to find out!" she says. "I was thinking about it all day as I was scouting in the east."

"Oh, that's where you went." He nods. "I was looking for you."

"Ah... I should have left you a note. Will do it next time when Jazz will send me somewhere."

"So are you the official member of SpecialOps? Because I think Jazz should write you in after all those scouting missions!"

"Maybe I should ask them about it." She laughs. "Who would have thought that to become a member of a secret spy group you just need to be friends with one of them."

"The best methods are always in plain sight!"

"In this case maybe it's good I'm not on the list. I'm not just a secret agent, I'm the secret - secret agent. They would never see me coming~!"

Bumblebee burst into laughs, quickly followed by Windblade. Then a familiar chirping draws their attention. They see Cheetor in their alt-mode, Nightstalker and Steeljaw are climbing up to them.

"Bee, there you are! We were looking for you everywhere. Also, hi Windy!" the spotted beastformer says. "Heard you're still in pain so I figured I could help you out."

"Hey guys!" both Windblade and Bumblebee greet the felines at the same time. Then the minibot speaks first. "Cheetor and Steeljaw, why are you up? It's the middle of the night."

"I don't know. I tried to fall asleep and got bored. I thought  I could sleep in another place." Steeljaw shrugs.

"Kinda the same, had another battlefield dream and decided that tonight I will cuddle with someone!" Cheetor laughs awkwardly.

"That's understandable, war related reams are never pleasant." Windblade moves to the side with Bumblebee to make more room for their friends to join.

"Plus, Nightstalker is kinda down today so I roped them into this as well." Cheetor sing songs as they gently pat the black feline with their tail.

"Hey! I'm not down, I'm just moody!" Nightstalker complains with a huff. The yellow minibot feels melancholy coming from them. Like sadness and aching together, mixed with worry. He frowns but doesn't say anything yet.

Steeljaw settles on Windblade's lap, while Cheetor lays around them, placing their head onto Bumblebee's lap. Nightstalker ended up sandwiched between everyone in the center. The comfort of the cuddle pile spread immediately in the group. Content, the yellow minibot lets out a series of low rumbles, almost sounding like he's purring.

"You did it Cheetor!" Windblade snorts. "Bumblebee now is a certified feline. Good job!"

"I did my best, thank you Windblade," Cheetor says with pride, before turning the black cassette. "So, Nighty, are you gonna talk about your feeeeeelings?"  

"Pfff, why? It's nothing really." Nightstalker waves their paw. "Just thinking of Ravage again, I wonder how he's doing."

"Hmm...do you think he'd be nice to you since he's with 'cons now?" Steeljaw is being a bit skeptical as usual but in a good way.

"Don't worry about it," Nightstalker replies but seeing all eyes on them now waiting for elaboration they added. "We usually meet during battles and just make it look like we fighting."

"Wait, really?" Steeljaw tilts her head. "Your fights are intense!"

"That's how we play. We have always been more of the rough side since we've been with our original cassette carrier." They look into the distance as if they try to see their sibling in the shadows. "But I haven't seen Ravage in a while now, which makes me worried. Last time we talked, he complained about Soundwave growing distance from his cassettes..."

"So... you and Ravage went separate ways accidentally?" Bumblebee frowns.

"Sort of. We got separated during Trypticon's rampage after our carrier died. We didn't see each for thousands of years and when we did, turned out we ended up on the opposite sides."

"Why did Ravage never join you after then?" Steeljaw is confused." Or, I guess, you didn't join them?"

"The answer is really simple. We bonded without new carriers and new cassettes. He and I formed new relationships since we both assumed that the other has perished. So, our relationship got... complicated. But none of us wants to burn bridges."

"I see... I hope you can solve it." Cheetor says before they decided to switch the subject to lighten the mood. "You know, I always been curious how cassettes are always in need of carriers and vice versa."

"Yeah, I wonder about it too. In most cases, cassettes are different species from carriers, yet we depend on each other." The black feline smiles.

"Different species?" Windblade asks as her curiosity rises. "I thought you all like us, no?"

"Ah yes, wonders of cybertronian taxonomy." Bumblebee laughs, his optics sparkle with excitement once again. "But yeah, most cassettes are different species from us. People usually don't know that because they see someone like Eject or Rewind and how all cassettes have the same alt-mode, assuming the rest are like them. But the relation to a species depends on your root-mode, regardless of your alt-mode."

"So, Eject and Rewind are in the same species as me and you, then Nightstalker and Steeljaw are not?" Cheetor sounds surprised as it never occurred to them.

"Yep, in fact, they are different species from each other, while sharing the same genius and family."

"So, am I not in the same family as them?"

"Correct, but you will be considered a feline because your second nature is granted by your frametype and alt-mode."

"I see!" they exclaim, excited to learn something new. "But we still count you one of us as well."

"I guess you will be right since mirroring is a thing too." Bumblebee giggles from amusement. He doesn't mind at all.

"It's amazing how much you know about biology, Bee! I'm surprised how you're not in Science Department. By the way, are cityformers different species from us?" Nightstalker asks out of curiosity.

"They are, that's why we can eat them without getting sick. Though we usually just give their plating to Botanica's plants first. And then eat fruits they produce."

"That's good, otherwise my jaw will break just from attempting to chew the plating," Windblade says as she remembers how she found out that non-beastformer cybertronians have weak teeth. In a hard way. "Huh, I never released it before, but now it makes sense why are stockpiling out mechon resources from the dead cityformers."

"Especially since we are leaving." Steeljaw nods. "It's better that way than just letting the corpses rust. The entire recycling system has been broken for a long time.

"Ugh, yeah." Nightstalker huffs. "I can only imagine the core is now just filled with countless unrecycled bodies. No wonder we have no resources to make new people."

"And those little things are consuming them and multiplying like the plague." Bumblebee mutters, then suddenly a sharp migraine pierced his processor.

"Bee, what's wrong?" the three exclaimed, startled by his sudden gasp. After a few seconds, the pain faded and Bumblebee looks around confused.

"Okay, what we were talking about just now?" He asks, in confusion while still holding his head in his hands.

"No, that happened again! Are you okay right now?" Windblade asks, her amica nods.

"Does this happen a lot? That sounds rough." Steeljaw looks worried.

"We talked about gathering resources from dead cityformers, do you remember this?" Nightstalker reminds him.

"Yes, I think." Bumblebee let go of his head. "I'm okay right now. Did I said anything?"

"You mention some things eating something, but I couldn't hear it well. "Windblade says. "Speaking of things, I heard those dead cybertronians we saw at the Spire are lurking near cityformers."

"What?!" Bumblebee growls, feeling like he's about to fight something. "This can't be good. Shockwave is planning something!"

"Yes, but we don't have enough information for now, but the situation is being observed by us and Blaster," Nightstalker says. "For now, it's best for you to focus on recovery."

"Agree. If we see more, we'll let you know. Worrying is the last thing you need right now." Steeljaw nods.

"That's right! Let us hug you!" Cheetor throws their paws around the minibot, and others follow them quickly. Bumblebee smiles widely as he returned the hugs as much as he could.

Windblade is right, even if they go extinct, the fact they are still alive here and now is what truly matters. They deserve to have fulfilling lives, no matter what kind of end they'll meet. The vague hope in his spark is growing stronger, reigniting his determination to finish what he started.

------

Hey, I’m back to updating Sparkpulse! I was tough! I caught a lot of burnout after the Big Bang event, so writing took a while. But now It’s finished! I hope you’re enjoyed it~ Reblogs and comments are appreciated! <3

[jklovesfandoms]

More Saint Cassian Dating Choir!!

Specifically how they get together!!! Yippee!!!!!

So, a bit of context

- I personally believe that the entire choir gets brought back, they spend a bit in the hospital, but they are all alive

- Some people in the polycule get together a lot earlier than others

- Ricky uses a wheelchair primarily, but also uses canes and forearm crutches! Also uses an AAC device to communicate! He also goes to physical therapy to strengthen his muscles

AND ONTO THE CONTENT!!

Noel, Ricky, and Mischa get together first, specifically over the summer before the accident. They go on a lot of pool and picnic dates together!! (When Noel isn't working, and Ricky isn't in pt) They try to keep it as much of a secret as possible, since small rural town, going to a Catholic school, yk that whole situation. The choir didn't even know. (Also Mischa is still engaged to Talia, and she adores her fiance's boyfriends, like she ships it hard)

Ricky and Jane/Penny get together pretty much immediately after the accident, like within the week they wake up. Basically September 18-20th.(I personally will use Jane, bc I hc that she feels more disconnected from name Penny after the accident, and likes having a nickname that the choir and only the choir calls her)

Mischa and Jane get together on September 28th, and Jane actually asks Mischa out. Like Mischa drives them out into the country, so he can ask her out underneath the stars, and Jane beats him to it.

Constance joins the polycule on Halloween! They were originally going to invite both Ocean and Constance, but Ocean was "sick" (Ocean has a big fat crush on the rest of the choir {-Noel obvi} and was nervous that she'd confess or show her feelings too much) so they only asked Constance out instead! (Constance also has a big fat crush on her now partners, and Ocean, and had since the accident for most of them, or for Ocean, since she was 7) they spent Halloween making brownies, handing out candy, and making out.... A lot of making out. Ocean spent it in her room, wishing that she had just risked it, and just being curled up, sad in her bed. But also being too stubborn to ruin their night by showing up after rejecting the invitation. (When she was later told that Constance joined the polycule, she may or may not have cried herself to sleep that night, bc she also had a crush on Constance since she was 7, and quickly developed a crush on the rest of the polycule between the accident and Halloween.)

After that, Ocean really stops hanging out with the choir as a group. She stops showing up to the weekly 'post-death therapy sessions' which was really just the choir ranting about things. She obviously still attends choir practice, but instead of staying behind and running through music or doing homework, or even just talking to the choir about the rehearsal like she used to, she almost runs out of the choir room when they finish. The polycule begins to wonder if they messed up. Did they do something? Ocean still hangs out one on one, or sometimes with 2-3 other members of the choir, usually Constance, sometimes Jane, and/or Noel. Occasionally Ricky and Mischa too, but never the whole group. So the polycule devises a plan, bc everyone except for Noel still loves her romantically (Noel loves her in a "I hate you, but like I couldn't live without your personality balancing mine" platonic kinda way), and still wants her to join. So on the first day of winter break, December 17th, Constance texts Ocean, and asks if she wants to hang out.

Ocean joins the polycule on December 17th, bc Constance did a little tricksy. She invited Ocean over, while the polycule was already there (since it was winter break, they had been there since school ended the previous day, hanging out and having a very long sleepover/hangout over the break) and Ocean was obviously not expecting them. (I will be coming out soon with a whole fic about how this+Constance's invitation went, along with more stories, bc it's my brain and it won't shut up) She may or may not have a breakdown, bc she still feels guilty for the person she was before the accident, and feels undeserving. But she does join, and the poly! choir is complete!!

-

More will be coming, bc poly!choir is rattling around in my empty little brain, and I must write and talk about it. At. All. Times. I simply am required to, legally. Bc damn it, if no one else is making the content that my empty little skull is begging for, I will!