#solar stop clocks

[beactivegyms]

BeActive Gyms provides solar stop clocks for gyms, ensuring accurate timekeeping and efficient workout sessions. Our solar-powered clocks are designed to withstand the rigours of gym environments while providing reliable performance. Upgrade your gym facilities with our innovative solar stop clocks for enhanced functionality and convenience.

[merrystar]

HELP 😭

[dcxdpdabbles]

I’ve seen you said you take prompts, so, I had an idea if you’re interested.

So, imagine Danny has an assignment from Clockwork, and as punishment for a prank he pulled where he messed with something and unintentionally pulled CW’s attention away from the timelines for long enough for the Flash to accidentally ruin the timeline, after the timeline was fixed Danny’s forced to go and fix every single broken clock in the solar system. This includes stuff like watches and the batcave clock, maybe a few timed bombs, something on the watchtower, villain bases, etc.. Everyone is extremely confused and concerned as to how and why this eldritch kid with the Mark of Kronos is appearing randomly in their secret bases. Danny isn’t just fixing the clocks, sometimes he pulls Shenanigans depending on where he has to go. If he sees clones in a lab, he’ll call up Dani and they’ll pull off a heist together and she’ll take care of teaching and raising them afterwards. Talons? Danny opens a portal to a section of the infinite realms and gives them their own island after having the yetis go through deprogramming with them and stuff. He sees some stuffy fruitloop batcave? Graffiti and glitter. Lazarus pits? Free smoothie! Of course, he’s respectful to civilians when he bumps into them, giving little unmeltable ice statues to kids, helping people who need it, etc. He fixes a family heirloom watch, bringing tears to a grandson’s eyes. He’s helping people while on his mission, while also messing with any fruitloops he finds. So all of these people around the world are just really confused and being like, what in the world, who/what is this kid?! And sharing stories about him online, painting him as a cryptid or god or whatever. The Justice League and the villains are just Concerned because the kid feels like Kronos, time, and death energy, and have no idea what he’s trying to accomplish. Maybe they think that working clocks give him power, idk, just thinking of the conspiracy boards about Danny as he goes through his punishment and fixes every single clock, including on other planets (Danny practically squealing the whole time as he meets *aliens* in *space*! What cool technology and life!) This is meant to be a punishment but Danny’s living out his dreams. Sure it’s boring at times, but all this traveling is interesting and can help him bond with Dani, so this isn’t much of a punishment for him. He gets to be mischievous and help people out, it’s a win-win. Meanwhile everyone else is thinking that the end of the world is coming and that Kronos has been reborn and is trying to take over the world somehow with clocks. If you’re willing to expand or add to this or make it your own, please do!

I love the idea of Danny just *poof* "Yes, hello, I am the clock-smith" in the middle of, say, the watch tower. Floating up to the clock wall to adjust the time while pulling out a manual on time zones in different parts of space. The watch tower is within Earth's intergalactic waters per se, but which Earth time did he set it to???

Should he anchor it to one place or just place a spell on it to show all the time zones in a cycle? Does Clockwork have a procedure for this?

Meanwhile, all the heroes in the cafeteria are jumping to their feet, some whispering, "A fifth dimension imp!" and others yelling, "It's Kronos!"

Wonder Woman kneeling before the flouting teen does not help these accusations, as she loudly proclaims, "It's an honor to be of service, Lord Kronos."

Danny looked down at her. "Oh hey, an Amazonian."

"Why have you graced us with your presence? Is there anything this lowly servant can help you with?"

".....Can you gather all the watches for me?"

"At once!" And that's how the rest of the heroes almost have heart attacks because Wonder Woman herself is rushing at them at terrifying speed to rip away any form of watch from their bodies. She's on a war path, and no one can stop her. They can see it in her eyes- she'll draw blood if she has to.

They hand over their watches without much of a fight, feeling like they are being mugged. Wonder Woman sprints away to the next few levels- the screams of fellow heroes echoing in her wake.

Batman isn't as willing to cooperate with Kronos until he knows why the god is here, but Danny doesn't give him much of a choice. Mostly because he is uncontainable. Thankfully, he seems fixated on watches (Bruce writes in his notes, "Can gods be autistic???), and he leaves once they are all fixed.

He changes everything to be precisely twenty-nine hours ahead of whatever time they originally were at. Wonder Woman basically barked at everyone to not switch them back, banishing her sword.

From there, Batman does research with his sons and daughters. Tim finds the information of Danny appearing throughout history to fix watches, and Hal finds similar historical text in Oa's archives—usually right before a horrible tragedy. Further investigation shows a horrendous discovery.

Danny adds or subtracts the same number of hours from the told time as before the tragedy.

He was on Mars three hours before the tipping point of the civil war when the tremendous green Martian massacre happened. He added three hours to the green Martian's capital clock tower.

He was there on Krypton twenty-five hours before the planet was swallowed up by a black hole and exploded. Every public area with any form of time telling was changed to twenty-five regardless of whether it matched the planet's time zone.

And now he was here in the clock tower.

Bruce realizes that they have only one hour left, so he commands everyone to rush about and search for what could be the issue. It's only thanks to the Speedsters' quickness that they find the malfunction in the tower's core—the thing keeping them flouting. Had they been one hour too late, it would have caused the Tower to get pulled into Earth's gravitational pull.

Leading to them crashing into Earth- right above the most populated country of the world, possibly killing millions and leaving the world without their heroes.

The tragedy is avoided but now everyone is weary of when or where Kronos will appear.

Meanwhile, Clockwork is watching the timeline, amused that they think Danny is him when, in reality, Danny is just picking a random time and sticking the clocks to match since it's less math.

[kingprinceleo]

Silhouette Timeline Master Post !

Silo is from my 1000 Years Bound Au- (Summary) (Horror AU) 500 years into the future, Miles finds himself at the mysterious kingdom of Solar Sanctum, ruled by the long absent King Shadow. Shadow invites Miles to stay as a collaboration of great minds to try and solve the murky state their world has fallen into. It isnt long before Miles starts to realize Shadow is no longer the man he remembers, and starts to get tangled up in his web of madness.

----

Silo is one of Shadow's little oopsies ! She was meant to be a trial experiment, bioengineered during one of his many attempts to bring order back to the planet. Shadow completely tunnel visioned by his own vision for his work, failed to comprehend the burden that accompanied bringing a creature to life. He succeeded in creating a living breathing being. And it horrifies him. (cw for almost violence against a child)

Not too long after his meltdown, the Black Arm part of his brain overrides his disdain for this creature, and for a short while, he fulfills the role of being a parent to her. Creating a nest and taking care of the babys every need.

Once he returns to his normal mindset he starts to neglect this kid again, he refuses to acknowledge its his daughter, and even a person at all. All he sees her as is an experiment he wants nothing else to do with while he moves on to other research. Most of the responsibilities fall on Valentine and Tails. Tails is suspicious and frustrated with Shadow, unable to get any answers out of him about Silos origins. More often than not, Valentine is the one handling Silhouette, sneaking out of the castle and bringing her to the edge of the kingdom where an apple orchid resides. She spends time learning about taking care of children from the wolf Crisp, a widowed mother of three. Shadow usually never notices the childs absence, and doesnt really care when he does. And when he does care, its usually because hes doing something like this:

They also start figuring out Silos abilities, being able to turn into a black liquid and taking whatever shape she wants. Shes also near silent. No one is sure if she took on Shadows immortality yet...

Plot stuff happens whatever,,, Shadow takes a huge L

Shadows physically weak and incredibly frail, he cant move at all for weeks, eventually getting a custom walking chair. Major loss of chaos energy from his body from overloading, now any minor usage of chaos energy can fuck him UP.

In his eyes, hed fallen from godhood, now abandoned to be a pathetic regular person. And now word is getting out around the kingdom. He cant hide behind being all powerful, he needs to start at least pretending to act normal real fast. And that comes with acknowledging Oh hey . theres like . a princess by the way. his daughter who he is totally raising.

Valentine needs to be at Shadows side around the clock for a couple years, so Silhouette spends a lot of time at home in the castle, usually being very clingy to Shadow, she loves to nestle into his collars and his quills

This continues even when Shadow starts setting her to the side again to focus on rebuidling the kingdom. Now a toddler, shes getting sent off to go hang out with Crisps family pretty often, they become like a whole family to her. Despite that, Silhouette often sneaks out of the house to walk all the way back from the edge of the kingdom to go be with her father again. Shadow starts sending his Shadow Eye, Baja to accompany her so she stops doing that.

As she gets older she starts understanding the expectations Shadow is holding over her head. She is the offspring of the Ultimate Lifeform, and he expects something made of his own blood to be nothing short of perfect, an exact copy of his grace and excellence. At the same time, however, she is never supposed to surpass him. He plans to remain the Ultimate Lifeform until the end of time.

Perhaps she would have considered his cruel edge and bitter tongue normal affection had she not spent years with a family who's shown her what love looks like. She appreciates them so much, but she cant help but try to desperately claw out the same type of affection from Shadow. It deeply pains her and stirs resentment for her half siblings whenever her father comes over to the orchid, either to pick her up or at the request of Val, and she watches Shadow interact with the other children. He views them as lesser, but because of this, the lack of expectation for them, he comes off as a little kinder. Tolerating things he would never allow Silo to do in his presence, coldly reprimanding her in the hollowing silence of their black arms hive mind. He trained a lot of her emotional responses out of her, leaving her with a dead expression most of the time.

As a teenager, the noise in the back of her mind gets louder, deadset on destruction. Part of her wants to kill Shadow. Shes afraid of that side of herself. She starts acting out, trying to distract him from his work to get his attention, positive or negative attention she doesnt care anymore. It starts small but as he keeps turning a blind eye, expecting Val to handle it, she is the head guard after all. Gradually she increases the intensity, committing real crimes in the kingdom and testing how far she needs to push that old man, from stealing to committing arson. Shes willing to tear this whole kingdom apart if it means Shadow will come and stop her.

Eventually, Shadow does! Additionally, Shadows in a much better mental and physical state than he was years ago, where he was genuinely at his worst. After a lot of talks with Miles, Val, and Crisp and realizing the worst parts of himself are being manifested in this child before his eyes. He goes to finally give her what she wants.

Hes still not a great parent, but now he puts more effort in, working with Silo to get her behavior in check, being overall more available and open to her.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

candy girl 1

Warnings: this fic will include elements, some dark, such as cheating, age gap, noncon/dubcon, and other untagged triggers. Please take this into account before proceeding. It is up to curate your online consumption safely.

Summary: as you're about to take the next step with your boyfriend, doubts begin to arise. (short!plus!reader)

Characters: Thor (boyfriend's dad/silverfox)

Author’s Note: Please feel free to leave some feedback, reblog, and jump into my asks. I’m always happy to discuss with you and riff on idea. As always, you are cherished and adored! Stay safe, be kind, and treat yourself. <3

You steer onto the cul-de-sac, the savoury smell of teryaki and honey garlic cloying at your stomach. A loud growl erupts from inside you as you come in sight of your destination. The suburban beacon stands two-storeys above ground and its white washed window frames seem to watch your approach with wide eyes. The home, even if it’s not your own, is welcoming. 

You pull in beside the white picket fence and park right behind the large slate grey BMW. It’s both gargantuan and sparkling compared to your beat up Fiat. Your steed isn’t a noble one but it gets the job done. Literally. 

The summer night hums with the call of the crickets and the drone of pool filters from the sprawling HOA-mandated yards. You get out and open the back seat, pulling out the stacked boxes that radiate with the mouth-watering aromas. You even managed to get Karl to give you a free tray of garlic knots before you clocked out. 

As you balance the wide load, teetering slightly at the awkwardness, you use your hip to shut the car door. You eye the vehicle in front of yours. You didn’t think he’d be there, at least that’s what Magni said. You suppose you can’t complain, it isn’t your house. 

A figure sits on the porch, as if waiting for you. At first, you think it’s your boyfriend but the build is slightly too broad to be him. The sheen of the light beside the front door also reveals a head of silvering blonde waves and not Magni’s shanky red hair. His father sits with his phone cradled over his lap, a metallic noise sounding from the speakers. 

You come up the front walk between the floating orbs cast by the solar lanterns implanted in the earth. Your soles scuff as you near the steps and Mr. Odinson lowers his phone as he looks up. You put on a smile though you don’t think he’ll see it. 

“It’s just me,” you announce as you hit the step with your toe and stumble. “Oof!” 

He’s quick to stand and rush over but you steady yourself and clammer up the steps in a graceful recovery. You giggle at yourself and even out the boxes to keep the pizza from getting to messed up. He stops nearby, looming over you as he blocks out the porch light. 

“Y’okay, little one?” He asks in his way. 

You laugh again, “all good! Clumsy old me.” 

“Mm,” he hums and gives an emphatic sniff, “I suppose you didn’t bring all that for me.” 

“There’s more than enough to go around,” you assure him. 

“Ah, well in that case, my son is in the garage,” he points, “I will gladly make sure the food gets to the kitchen unscathed.” 

You tilt your head at him and scoff, “don’t worry, I didn’t count the chicken wings or anything.” 

He chuckles and takes the boxes from you, “allow me,” he insists, “far too much for you to be carrying all this around.” 

“It’s my job, Mr. Odinson,” you shrug, “anyway, I’ll go find, Mag.” 

“Tell him to put his things away before he comes in,” he warns and backs up, easily carrying the full load of food in one hand, turning to pull the screen door open with his other. 

You hop back down the porch and along the walk, coming back down the driveway to the garage. You knock on the wide door as you hear raging metal music crashing from within. You like some of it, but a few songs just make your head hurt. 

The door reacts as the motor above whirs and reels it up. You bend to peek under and wave at Magni. He sits on a low rolling stool, his hands darkened with oil, and his motorbike half torn apart. Again. 

“Wow, what’s all this?” You ask as you dip under the door. 

“Eh, stupid thing got a rock in it, then I was thinking about modifying it... got a bit carried away.” 

He grabs a rag from his pocket as he stands and wipes his fingers. He’s about as tall as his father, though he’s lanky where the elder Odinson is bullish. You suppose he might fill out with age, not that you’re complaining. You have more than enough cushion for both of you. 

“Your dad took the pizza,” you say. 

“Ah, yeah, he was supposed to be out of town,” he grumbles. “Been lecturing half the night about this thing.”  

He gestures to the bike as he nears and bends to kiss you. You tilt your head up to meet him and get a bit more tongue than you expect. He grabs your ass as he pulls you against him and you gasp, pushing on his stomach. 

“You’re getting grease on my pants,” you part and tut at him. It’s only your uniform but you have two pair of work pants and one them is ripped. 

“Blends right in,” he gives you another tap. 

“Ugh, I was gonna do laundry on the weekend.” 

“Whatever,” he shrugs and continues to twist his finger into the dirty rag. “Too bad dad stayed,” he grumbles, “if he wasn’t here...” 

Heat razes your neck and you sway in place, digging your toe into the ground as you look away. You know what he was expecting and you tried to tell him you weren’t sure yet but he just doesn’t get it. You’re almost grateful you don’t have to repeat yourself. As much as you like him, it’s just too much too soon. 

“Mm, yeah,” you come forward and gather up the loose wrenches and bolts, putting them into the open box, “shouldn’t leave this all a mess.” 

“Eh, I’ll just be working on it again tomorrow,” he sniffs. 

You ignore his protest and continue to clean up after him. If you mention his dad, you don’t think it will motivate him. They can be volatile at times. Stubborn to say the least. It surprises you to see the discord between them. With a life like this, how could anyone be unhappy?  

You close up the tool box and roll it against the wall. Magni hits the button for the door and it rolls back down. You follow him to the interior door and climb the steps up into the main house. You leave your shoes on the mat as he keeps his on. 

Mr. Odinson pulls out plates as you enter the kitchen. He huffs as Magni tramps through and goes to the sink, flipping it on with two fingers and leaving grease on the silver. 

“Shoes on?” His father grumbles. 

“Forgot,” Magni utters. 

“Mm, wipe the faucet off when you’re done. You’re getting oil all over.” 

“Yeah, dad, I’ll do it,” Magni sneers. 

You gulp awkwardly as Mr. Odinson offers you a plate. 

“Gotta wash up too,” you wiggle your fingers at him, showing the dirt from the tools. 

“Ah, more work after work, I see,” he muses dryly. 

You smile and shrug and go to the sink as Magni shuts it off. You turn it back on and take your time lathering up your hands. You rinse off and make sure to wipe the smear on the silver too. As you turn around, Magni is loading up his plate with food. 

You wait patiently by Mr. Odinson as he hands you a plate. 

“Geez, save some for the rest of us, kid,” he chortles. 

“There’s lots,” Magni dismisses flippantly and walks away. 

“Eat at the table,” his dad calls after him. 

Mr. Odinson lets you go first. He makes you feel tiny as he patiently awaits his turn. You take more knots than you should but only a single slice of triple cheese. 

“I see you go the cinnamon bites...” he intones, “did you remember they’re my favourite?” 

“Oh, mine too!” You chime, “I didn’t but I’ll try to next time.” 

“Next time,” he echoes, “don’t make promises you can’t keep.” 

You ignore the cryptic comment and grab a dipping sauce, “enjoy, Mr. Odinson.” 

“Mm, looks delicious,” he winks and his eyes linger on you before they drift over to the boxes. “Mmm, I prefer thighs but these wings smell amazing.” 

You turn and give the wall a strange look. He’s a funny guy, sometimes you have no idea what he’s talking about. You head off to join Magni in the dining room. He bends over his phone and quickly swipes with his pinky, bringing up his wallpaper. 

“I’m starving,” you sit down, “work was so hectic.” 

He growls into a chicken wing as he eats ravenously. You feel a similar hunger but you don’t want to be rude. It’s funny, growing up in a place like this, and he can be so... sloppy.  

Mr. Odinson walks in and drops a stack of napkins at the center of the table, “don’t stain the tablecloth.” 

You take a few and Magni just continues his feast. His dad sits with a cringe and shakes his head. He takes a garlic knot between two fingers, the morsel seeming so small, and bites into it delicately. He hums and you can’t help but share the sentiment, while you restrain yourself from mimicking his son as your stomach roars again. 

[peachyfnaf]

Hello chatters. currently 8:30 in the morning, and I've been seeing a lot of Sun love going around (based btw) which reminded me that even though I don't yap about him nearly as much as I do Nexus, Sun was also given such a short end of the stick when it came to this arc.

I don't care for Monty, but I do love Puppet, but the way they both pressured Sun into choosing what to do with Nexus (New Moon at the time)??? that shit is so fucked. and yeah, because I am who I am (a Nexus apologist lol), I was mad and hurt when Sun was unable to tell them to not kill him. but unfortunately that tracks for him.

Sun's trauma response is, most of the time, to freeze. he's done it before when confronted by past Eclipse's, Bloodmoon's- if you're willing to use other dimensions as examples, Servant Sun quite literally froze and surrendered with his hands in the air out of fear when Old Moon first met him.

So, he did it again. he was put in a terrifying situation, and he froze. which led to Nexus freezing in space too amiright ahahahahhhhh

So, shit was already fucked for him at this point. because not only did he lose a close family friend (Solar), tried to help the other 3 through their grief and prioritizing their feelings over his own because he was- objectively- the least close with Solar, lose his brother to madness (which we now know there was like 10x more to that then just 'grief' makin' him act as he did. y'know. glares at Dark Sun and NSP), could basically do NOTHING as Earth was kidnapped by Ruin/Bloodmoon, and Nexus was blasted into space by Puppet.

And even though that was the end of that main arc, dude CONTINUED TO BE HANDED L'S AFTERWARDS. Old Moon being brought back by Monty (Monty.. >:[) without Sun even being asked about it first, Sun not being given the chance to properly heal from/mourn Nexus because O.M was now there, he filled his role, and O.M does not like Nexus. (chatters, I'm gonna warn you, ever since he came back, I've been an Old Moon hater. do not like that guy.) anD THEN EVERYTHING WITH DAZZLE/EVELYN??? july 16th of this year was like a very high peak in what's, to me, a very low-on-the-chart arc, but THAT DOESN'T MEAN SUN WAS OKAY DURING IT JFCCC. the TRAUMA he was reliving during that time HURTED

And even where he is now- he got his magic back, yuippee yayyy!!!

Because of it it seems like he's now intrinsically intertwined with NSP, and multiple people want to use him as a goddamn radar to find Wither Shards now. one of those people literally being The Creator, yaknow, like the stories Biggest Bad???

And another, "oooh, yaknow, that happeneddd, ahahahahhh.." was The Creator psychologically torturing him in one of the darkest SAMS eps' to date because of it.

AND. And, finally, the most recent episode that was Yapped to me about that well. 1, just made me hate O.M more, and 2, made me want to just wrap Sun in a blanket in front of a fireplace. The "Invaded By CRINGY FNAF in Vrchat" one. the way O.M spoke to Sun in that ep, the use of the gravely K.C voice that O.M only uses when making threats, I- I'll fuckin-

LEAVE THAT LITTLE GUY ALONE. I HOPE WHEN YOU AND NEXUS INEVITABLY FIGHT YOU GET CLOCKED IN THE JAW FOR THAT ONE. GOOD LORD.

...I've been typing this for like 50 minutes, apparently I had a lot more to say when it came to Sun than I first thought DGAIEPHDWGWLAH

Canon. canon, please, let Sun do something. let him be the one to free Nexus from NSP corruption, because of how much he's been shown to be resilient to it. let Sun be the one to stop The Creator's next big scheme instead of Moon. let him do things as important as all the others instead of just cleaning. the pieces for him to do so are right there. now put them in place.

[withleeknow]

like you used to.

pairing: chan x reader genre/warnings: established relationship, angst word count: 0.6k note: "things i wish you'd said" for the fellow wifeu hehhehhehe. first bang chan piece, people !!

as always, i’d appreciate any thoughts or comments you may have, and please drop a like and/or reblog if you enjoy reading ♡

navigation › masterlist › ko-fi

you remember when things were good.

now, you can only hope for a fraction of how they used to be. you don't even dare to ask for good again. you just want things to be better.

the way that everything is now - you don't know if it's right to label it bad. it's just... stagnant. lethargic. lifeless and on the verge of becoming unrevivable.

chan used to put you first, or at least, he would always make you feel like you were the center of his universe. when you'd first gotten together, the honeymoon phase seemed to last forever. you revolved around each other the way that everything in the solar system revolves around the sun. constant. a fact of life.

which is to say that the love was always endless. unwavering. persevering and true.

you could always feel the efforts he put in to prioritize your relationship. starting every morning with an i love you and ending the day the same way. staying on the phone for entire evenings whenever he had to be away. showering you with flowers and adorable small gifts any chance he got because he knew you didn't like extravagant things. running through the streets in the rain, giggling like a couple of fools utterly in love. spending hours talking and stargazing until the night faded away and you couldn't even see the stars anymore.

you were perfect together, perfect for each other.

what happened? what went wrong?

when did he start slipping away?

the i love you's don't sound the same anymore. when he gets into bed at night and presses a half-hearted kiss to your forehead, those three words feel like an obligation that he says just for the sake of upholding it.

no "just five, ten, fifteen more minutes!" when he wakes up in the morning and wraps his arms around you tightly for some extra cuddling time, peppering you with kisses on any exposed skin that he could find. instead, chan opts to desert the warmth of your side moments after his alarm rings. no lingering touches on your body before he leaves. just his fingertips ghosting on your back as if to quietly say "good morning, i'm going now".

it's a feeling that you can't quite describe even if someone asks you to - seeing the person you love the most fade away day by day, in front of your very eyes.

he's the last person you would expect this from.

the hardest thing to accept is that nothing happened. nothing went wrong. there's no one at fault, nothing to pin the blame on. love just went cold, and it's one of the saddest things that you and him will ever go through.

because your fire is still burning, not flickering even once while his love has been reduced to embers and you're helpless; you can't do anything to stop it from going out completely and turning frigid. because he's still the love of your life, even if you aren't the love of his anymore.

there are so many things that you wish you could tell him, so many things that you wish he would say to you.

tell me you want me and mean it.

kiss me like you did the first time under that shitty street light near the corner of my old apartment. it was dark and freezing, but we were so happy then, weren't we?

you don't have to love me forever like you once promised you would. just... love me. love me again.

because when he comes home and greets you with a smile - an empty one - that doesn't make his eyes light up like they used to, you know that the clock is ticking faster; time is cruel and time is running out.

you wish he would.

but you know he won't.

permanent taglist: @onlyycb97wife @starsandrqindrops @borahae-reads @abbiestearsricochet @cutiespaghetti @anthropologykpopmultistan @moonlinos

all rights reserved © withleeknow. reposting, translating and/or modifying is not permitted by any means. [posted 02.01.2024]

[disasterousduo]

Incorrect Quote Generator

I might draw some of these later/tomorrow

——————————————————————— Sun: Croissants: dropped  Solar: Road: works ahead  Moon: BBQ sauce: on my titties  Lunar: Shavacado: fre  Earth: Miss Keisha: fuckin dead  Eclipse:  Eclipse, grumpy: I didn’t understand a single word of that and I hate every single one of you.

———————————————————————

'Can I copy the homework?'  Sun: I can help you with it!  Solar: Yeah, sure.  Moon: Bold of you to assume I did the homework.  Ruin: lol nope.  Earth: Wait, we had homework?!?!?!  Bloodmoon: *Read 5:55pm*

———————————————————————

Solar: Is something burning? N!Moon: Just my love for you. Solar: Moon, the toaster is on fire.

———————————————————————

Ruin: English is a difficult language. It can be understood through tough thorough thought, though. Bloodmoon: You need to stop.

———————————————————————

Ruin: I made tea. Eclipse: I don’t want tea. Ruin: I did not make tea for you. This is my tea. Eclipse: Then why are you telling me? Ruin: It is a conversation starter. Eclipse: That’s a lousy conversation starter. Ruin: Oh, is it? We are conversing. Checkmate.

———————————————————————

Earth: What time is it?  Eclipse: I don’t know; pass me that saxophone and we’ll find out  Eclipse: *Plays sax loudly and extremely out of tune*  Moon: WHO THE FUCK IS PLAYING THE SAXOPHONE AT TWO IN THE MORNING  Eclipse: It’s 2 am

———————————————————————

Sun: If I accidentally sat on a voodoo doll of myself, would I be trapped forever in that position, doomed to starve to death? Moon: How am I supposed to know? Lunar: You say, as if we don’t use you as a source of knowledge of the occult. Moon: *sighs* Moon: You wouldn't be trapped.

———————————————————————

Lunar, texting Solar: Solar! Help I’m being kidnapped Solar: Where are you? Lunar: I’m with some strange person. In a car. Help. Solar: I’ll call Earth. Earth, answering their cell: Y’ello? Solar: Where’s Lunar? They texted me that they were being kidnapped. Earth: Lunar? Whaddya mean, they're right next to me- Earth: Earth: I’ll call you back. *hangs up* Earth: THE NEW HAIRCUT ISN’T THAT BAD! Lunar: WHO ARE YOU?!

———————————————————————

Earth, talking to Sun on the phone: Did you preheat the oven like I told you to? Sun : You bet! Earth: At what temperature? Sun : 535. Earth: That's the clock. Sun: Earth: Sun : 536.

———————————————————————

Sun: Man, I only ever see you awake, do you ever shut down or stop running?  Solar : Oh, I’m always running  Solar : The question is from what

———————————————————————

Ruin: Jail is no fun. I’ll tell you that much.  Solar : Oh, you’ve been?  Ruin: Once. In Monopoly.

———————————————————————

Sun: Favorite horror movie?  Solar : It  Lunar: Saw  Moon: Annabelle  Earth: High School Musical. after watching it I spent all my middle school years terrified that the entire school would start singing something and I’d be the only one who didn’t know the lyrics

———————————————————————

Sun: Nothing in life is free.  Solar : Love is free!  Lunar: Adventure is free.  Moon: Knowledge is free.  Jack: Everything is free if you take it without paying.

———————————————————————

Sun: We’ve been conducting an ongoing study to see what Bloodmoon will and will not eat. Solar : Grass? Yes! Sun: Moss? Yes!! Solar : Leaves? Ohh, yes! Sun: Shoelaces? Strange but true! Solar : Worms? Sometimes! Sun: Rocks? Usually nah. Solar : Twigs? Usually! Sun: Ruin's cooking? Inconclusive! Moon: How did you… test this? Sun: You just hand them stuff and say ‘eat this’ and if they eat it, they eat it. Moon: ... I don’t know how to feel about this. Ruin: IS THAT WHERE ALL MY SPARE SHOELACES WENT?

———————————————————————

Sun: We need more help. Maybe I should call my friends. Moon : ... Your what? Sun: My friends. Solar: Are they saying “friends”? Moon: I think they're being sarcastic. Lunar: No, no, no, this is delirium, they've cracked from being awake all night. Hey, Sun! All of your friends are in this room. Sun: I have other friends! You asked me to make new friends, I made new friends! It was a task. I complete tasks.

———————————————————————

Sun: That's it, we're gonna go out and find what we need! Moon: To the city? Sun: Yeah, no matter what! Earth: Well- How exactly do you propose we do that, exactly? Sun: I... I don't know! Solar : Oh come off it, be serious! Sun: I am serious! Solar : You're insane! Lunar: Why, if only we were all wiener dogs, our problems would be solved! Everyone: Sun: What??? Lunar: Or maybe it was a basset hound! Solar , panicked: YOU'RE ALLINSANE!

———————————————————————

Sun: If you bite it and you die, it’s poisonous. If it bites you and you die, it’s venomous.  Chica : What if it bites me and it dies!?  Moon: Then you’re poisonous. Jesus Christ, Chica , learn to listen.  Freddy: What if it bites itself and I die?  Monty: That’s voodoo.  Bloodmoon: What if it bites me and someone else dies?  Chica: That’s correlation, not causation.  Freddy: What if we bite each other, and neither of us die?  Monty: That’s kinky.  Sun: Oh my God.

———————————————————————

Sun: Hewwo.  Jack : Hihiiiiii!  Moon: Greetings, Humans.  Solar: Three kinds of people.  Lunar: I want pudding.  Sun: Four kinds of people.  Bloodmoon: WHAT’S UP FUCKERS?  Solar: Five kinds of people.

[faeriekit]

The Firstborn Son (part II)

Read the first part here!

dp x dc | Batman 👻 tw for: canon-typical violence, threats against children, purposeful exacerbation of triggering events

****

Dick is sick.

It started out as a cold, but the symptoms keep shifting—Dick’s been vomiting periodically, but not frequently enough to encourage them to fetch a doctor; Dick is too cold, then too hot, and then freezing all over again.

Alfred, of course, provides ‘round the clock care, but…

Bruce can’t help it. He’s Bruce Wayne’s ward, not Alfred Pennyworth’s, so Bruce makes himself busy reading children’s books and tucking in pillows and delivering small sips of blue Gatorade to the most miserable child in the whole wide world.

(According to Dick, anyway).

(Considering the keening whimpers and constantly cleaned sheets Bruce has been replacing, Bruce is inclined to believe it.)

Bruce is down the hall, fetching Zitka from the wash, when he hears the scream.

It’s too high to be discomfort—it’s too loud to be anything but fear.

Or pain.

“B!! B B Beebeeebeebee—!!”

Bruce has never been faster in his life. Not training with the league of assassins. Not flinging himself off rooftops.

He slides into the room just in time to see a sobbing, struggling Dick leave it. A clawed hand drags the nine-year-old by the arm out of bed, across the hardwood floor, and into a toxic green rift floating in the air. And then he’s gone.

Bruce’s world melts around him.

He needs—he needs his armor. He needs his gear. Dick is gone and he needs gear—

He hurtles towards the cave so fast that he almost bowls over Alfred in his desperation. He’s practically on all fours down the stairs. Bruce nearly rips the hands off the antique grandfather clock he’s fashioned into a door trying to get it open that much faster, and he’s shoving himself into Kevlar and thick black boots as soon as he reaches his gear locker. His belt is packed. His weapons are loaded—he needs to go before that green rift closes—before Dick gets anything farther—before anything happens to him—

Alfred is going to be upset down the line for the grapple-marks on the bannister, but all Bruce can think of is how quickly he can get back up to the boy’s bedroom. He lands, he launches himself off the railing, and lunges back towards Dick’s room.

(Again, blowing past Alfred.)

“Master Bruce, what on God’s green earth—“

“Something kidnapped Dick!”

“What?”

Bruce lands with all his considerable weight on the floor of Dick’s room, ignoring the colorful circus posters and world flags tacked to the walls for the sake of a green ripple burning through the center of the room. Bruce makes to jump through.

Alfred’s grip on his arm holds him back.

Bruce can’t even process it for a moment. That his parent—who knows how important Dick is, and cares for him too—is stopping him from going in after him. And then Bruce’s ears tune back in and Bruce begins to understand a little more.

“—throwing yourself into danger with only a moment’s notice and no back-up! We need more information before you go careening, head-first—“

Bruce would normally agree.

But he can see the tattered edges of reality closing in on the green wound. There won’t be much time to go through before the rift—whatever is it and wherever it goes—closes, and his nine-year-old-ward is left alone in a secondary location.

Bruce really hopes he’s not going to leave Alfred alone in Wayne manor if he goes through this. But he has to go through with this. Bruce has always been weak to stray pets and people in need, and this boy is—he’s—he’s Bruce’s responsibility.

He doesn’t say anything. Alfred raised Bruce—he knows how to read him. Bruce uncurls Alfred’s hands from around his arm, shifts his weight, and lunges through.

The world turns uranium green.

Kryptonite green, even. Everything has this odd, incandescent glow to it; considering that he can’t see the sun, Bruce—Batman—has to guess that the ever-present light is the only substitute for solar energy.

He’s going to investigate it more. Later.

When there isn’t a huge, periwinkle dragon with Dick clutched in its lime green claws.

The dragon is as long as a school bus, with the expected claws and teeth, red eyes, and ridged spines along its back to deter predation. It looks, in a way that is almost comical, like a living, breathing version of what a child might think a dragon looks like. It isn’t a color that can camouflage even in this green environment.

There’s no ground, but—somehow—Bruce is able to launch himself forward after the beast. He’s treading…air. Or something like it. Whatever this atmosphere’s glowing substance is. Dick is scrabbling against the unyielding surface of the beast’s claws, and Batman has to fetch Dick back before something worse than sudden transportation happens.

He’s not fast enough to catch it. It can fly, and Batman cannot.

Bruce flings batarangs at its foot. With any luck, it will have to drop Dick, and he can—who knows—dip down and catch him.

It flips a wing. The batarangs are harmlessly batted away.

But its mobility is compromised as it does, unable to pump its wings as it defends itself. Interesting. There isn’t anything in particular holding Bruce up in the air, a speck in an array of floating island, but when the dragon’s wing-beats are interrupted, it no longer moves as it ought to.

The reason why doesn’t matter. It’s an exploitable weakness. Bruce hurls another two batarangs at its foot, and when it ducks a wing to hide Dick from him, he hurls another two towards its other wing.

Bingo. The dragon’s wings stutter. It doesn’t fall, as Bruce worried it might have, miraculously. There doesn’t seem to be anything but abyss below or above them.

He strides forward. Dick is miserable, snotty and sobbing in his little elephant jammies, and all Bruce wants to do is pick him up and bring him home. He’s so close. Dick is reaching out with his little, fragile hand. Bruce has to grab it back.

He’s so close. All Dick has to do is reach out and grip his black glove—

A sonic blast propels Batman back.

“Come on, Bat-boy!” Bruce hears. His head snaps upwards. A blue-haired woman with a guitar and studded black clothing floats above him, pleased to be between him and Dick.

Bruce’s eyes narrow. Finally, he gets someone verbal. “Who are you? What do you want with the boy?”

The woman’s smile is all teeth. “It’s not about what I want, Bat-guy. Care to dance for a spell?”

The guitar in her hand changes shape; the fist-shaped body of the instrument precedes the fist-shaped beam sent his way, her fingers on the strings as she summons the musical blast.

Bruce dodges the first one. The second— the third one is too close, as Bruce tries to fistfight the woman as quickly as he can to get her out of the way, and takes a sonic punch to his Kevlar-padded chest instead.

He can’t breathe. The woman takes full advantage of his breathlessness by lifting her guitar, swinging it back, and giving him a hit that would have concussed him without his cowl.

Bruce can’t move. Dick’s captor is getting away. Dick is getting dragged away and he cannot make himself move.

“Golly G, Bat boy, I thought this would be harder!” the woman laughs. “Let’s try something smoother, instead. What do you think about a love song?”

There’s no point in engaging with her. She’s actively trying to stall him from going after Dick. However, despite knowing that she’s stalling, there isn’t a great way to disengage from the fight. Dick’s cries are tapering off with the distance, and Bruce can feel his heart stuttering for reasons not related to the thoracic injury he’s just endured.

(Her fingers flick across the strings, and her guitar flickers into the shape of a heart.)

So he takes a risk. And feints. Jumps back, gets distance between them, and tries to go after his kidnapped ward fast enough that the dragon won’t escape his sight.

Bruce dodges the first few blasts, but the lack of cohesive planes of movement are disorienting. He gets hit in the side with a blast, and—

Everything does fuzzy. Concussive-fuzzy, even. Where is he going? Ember (that’s her name?) is right here. He was…looking for her. Wasn’t he? Yes. Right. He was looking for Ember.

She floats down to his height. (Perfect control of her flight, a dim part of him notices.) “You with us, Bat-boy?”

Bruce. Nods. He wants to give her good information. She’s the important thing he’s looking for.

Her smile is electric. She’s the center of the world. “Good work! If you love me, you’re going to stay here and be patient. I’ll come get you in a minute, ‘kay?”

Bruce nods. He’s getting better at making his body move. He has to listen to her; how could anyone not listen to her, when her voice is so hauntingly beautiful?

Her laughter is the sunlight. And then she’s off.

Bruce is patient.

He will wait.

   He will wait.

 He will…

    Oh God.

Dick is gone.

Bruce doesn’t quite wake up, but—Dick is gone. His ki—his ward, the bright little bird, the light of his house is gone. He’s sick and—Alfred isn’t here, and—

His looks around the area are frantic. There won’t be footprints or dust or debris left behind, but there has to be something. There has to be something he can use to get Dick back.

Focus. He needs to focus. Whatever rip he had broken through to get here, the spatial rend that was used to take Dick, is already gone. There is no way to go back and gather intel or get help. The woman that had trapped him in his head is already gone, with no trail to follow. Neither does the dragon have a trail.

He takes a—step. Whatever the equivalent is of stepping. And then another. If he triangulates the positions of the islands he had seen the dragon fly past, he might be able to approximate a direction. Maybe. It’s all he has—

—And something cracks against the back of his cowl. Bruce staggers.

A second blow and he’s out.

****

Bruce wakes up.

He’s still in the majority of his Batgear, which is a sign that 1) there has been little attempt to frisk him, and 2), that Dick’s naming conventions have worn off on him. Bruce is in an approximately 6’ by 6’ stone cell. His limbs are free.

Still. He automatically checks his belts for his equipment. Sure enough, his belt—smoke pellets, last of his batarangs, grapple gun, lockpicks, rebreather—and everything in it is gone.

There’s still a knife in his boot, though, so that ought to count for something. His captors aren’t used to trained operatives, nor deeply-entrenched criminal elements. Likely more used to common abductions; Bruce would be embarrassed to be taken by surprise by such amateur elements, but. Well. It’s not as if he can hear the footsteps that weren’t there in that vast green wasteland.

And, just like the outside green landscape, there is no central light. Everything simply…glows.

So he wasn’t removed from this new…dimension. He is only trapped in a building within it.

The cell has bars, but not bars big enough to slip through, cowl or no cowl.

Guards flicker past in concentrated routes. They’re just as liquid and green as their uranium homeworld. Their body armor places them more closely to a riot squad than to usual prison sentencing, but it’s not as if Bruce knows why they’re here or what their role is. They’re identical, from their helmets down to their wispy…tails…

A larger, bone-white build makes its way into his field of view. “Make way,” it announces to the guards, authority barely softened with a southern twang. “I’m going to speak to the prisoner.”

Great. Batman is a prisoner.

The huge build reveals itself to be a huge, broad-shouldered man, clothed entirely in white. Black boots. Black hat. His nose is…rotted away.

“Prisoner,” the man addresses him.

Bruce says nothing.

“You’re in here for the maximum sentence of a hundred years for bringing real-world items into the Ghost Zone. There’s no trial for this sentence: the King,” the man spits, “Demanded this personally. I am Walker, and I am the warden here. Cross me and you will regret it eternally.”

A warden.

Not an active member of the legal institution, but the end of it. Interesting.

Batman draws his cape around him. “I am only here for the boy. He is nine, he is ill, and he was kidnapped from his bed. Help me find him, and I will be out of your…”

Bruce takes a look at the man again.

“…Hat.”

“No can do,” the man says, firm. “Boy’s scheduled for a private execution with his Majesty. You’re in my custody now, and the boy’s going to find himself a permanent house in the Zone somewhere. Sit tight, or else your sentence is getting a few years’ extension.”

An exec— “He is nine,” Batman snarls, more his armor than he is the man within. “He is a nine year old with a hundred degree fever—why does he have an execution date?”

The warden, Walker, gives Batman a look. “Common practice for breaking your contract with the Ghost King,” the—ghost?—explains. “No reason for you to worry about it; you certainly can’t make any contracts from in here. Nothing comes in. Nothing comes out. Get comfortable—you’re not going anywhere.”

Not going anywhe— Bruce hurls himself at the barred door and the man within it, needing to go get his ill nine-year-old as soon as physically possible. He is getting out of here, and he is getting out of here this instant. The need to get his boy back is overwhelming. The thought of Dick, aching and fevered, in his pajamas and not even his armored suit, in the hands of someone who wants to kill him—

Bruce manages to wriggle past the first two guards, but a fourth and third manage to get him in the side with electricity. He doesn’t scream. The electricity doesn’t end—Bruce grits his teeth together and he tastes copper in his mouth but he does not scream, he has to get to Dick.

“Get him back in there!” the warden barks. The hall swarms with guards, and Bruce is pushed back into the cell, slammed onto the floor.

He rolls to his feet and lunges back up, fists outstretched.

The guards are too smart to fight him, and it burns, because he wants to repay this threat to his child with blood and broken bones. (Do ghosts even have bones to break? The best way to find out is to try. The barred door is slammed in his face.

Bruce heaves all his weight against it. pushes it with all the force in his body. Tries to pick the lock with the clawed tips of his gloves.

It doesn’t move.

A hundred-year sentence. A hundred years. It doesn’t even matter that Bruce could be stuck here forever, if Dick is about to lose his life in mere hours.

He wants to bang on the bars with his fists. He does. He wants to scream. He doesn’t scream, because one action might actually damage the bars and the other will only alert the guards to his state.

A hundred years. An execution date.

Bruce has to think. He has to get his way out of here. He has to think.

Someone is accusing Dick of a crime. The punishment is execution. It’s a pressing matter, but not helpful in the first problem of finding a way out of the cell.

Bruce has accrued a hundred year sentence. This is because he has brought “real world” items into the “Ghost Zone”. His tools and gear are all from his world, ergo, the world Bruce and Dick come from are the “real world”. This makes the world Bruce has fallen into the “Ghost Zone”. Ruled by the “Ghost King”, Bruce recalls.

He buries his face in his gloves. He needs to get out. There has to be something he can use. There are guards crawling everywhere and the prison is on high alert. The bars are drawn over the door.

This world is not the real world. There must be something exploitable in its occupants, in its functionality, in its physics—right?

Bruce knows—something—about ghosts. He tries not to worry about the supernatural in his work but he’s read a little of everything in his life. They are afterimages of people. More concept than personhood. If Walker is the warden, and the guard is the guard, that is all they are. There is no personal detail to exploit.

Not going through people, then.

Ghosts… Bruce has been hit and smashed on the head a lot, but they’re not famous for combat, they’re famous for their ethereality. For being able to walk through walls, float, disappear, reappear… They have done none of that. Ghosts, if that’s what they are, while they are in the Ghost Zone, are very tangible. Bruce has taken enough hits to the head and to the ribs to prove it.

Real world objects are forbidden, for some reason, but ghost objects lack the intangibility that would be expected of them in the real world. Ghost objects in the Ghost Zone retain real world physics.

Would real world items in the Ghost Zone retain real world physics…?

Bruce takes his face out of his hands. Looks at them.

This ought to work, he thinks, and punches the wall with no intention of meeting it.

His hand goes through. Hm.

Bruce is going to get his gear, and he is going to get it now.

****

Outside the prison is a large swathe of blackness. Gone is the green sky and floating islands.

All the better for Batman’s escape, then; since he doesn’t glow, there’s no easy way to notice him in the blackness of the all-consuming atmosphere.

In the distance is a stark red castle. The towers rise in the murky atmosphere, with its own red glow seeping into the rest of the zone around it.

If Bruce would have to guess, it’s pretty likely that the Ghost King lives in the giant castle. Dick is probably there. He’s lost his ward for a few hours, so reclaiming the lost time has become essential.

Bruce strides towards the castle. Or. Flies? He’s trying not to pay attention, to be honest; it seems that one of the rules of this Zone is that if Bruce starts thinking about what ought to happen, he’ll simply impose physical laws of his own world to apply to this one and start falling. It’s not helpful.

He has to focus on getting his ward. Making a plan—to ferret his kid out of wherever they’re holding him. To make diplomatic reasons as to why his nine year old shouldn’t be executed. To get down to the bottom of the issue… At his furthest, to take the fall for whatever Dick’s been blamed for as his guardian.

That Dick might not be alive is…not something Bruce is willing to consider.

He’s going to get Dick and figure out a way home. Bruce promised to take care of him, the same way Alfred promised to take care of Bruce.

So Bruce struggles his way through the wasteland. He keeps his eyes out for stray dragons he does not see. He makes his way to a red castle, unsure of how long it’s taken or how long it’s been since Dick was snatched away.

Bruce tests the durability of the outer wall. It flows around him like water, the same way the prison cell walls had. Batman ducks inside the fortress. And—

Bruce wakes up in bed.

Alfred is there. He looks…younger. For some reason, the bed is too big for Bruce to comfortably get out of on his own, so Alfred offers his hand and helps him down.

Oh. This room is his childhood bedroom. It’s so large. Why doesn’t he remember this blue-striped wallpaper? He doesn’t think he’s changed it.

Alfred supervises as Bruce washes his face and brushes his teeth (tasks which require a stepstool), and then they go down to breakfast.

Mom and Dad are there. Dad’s dressed for work, of course; Wayne Enterprises can solve its own problems, which means that today he’ll be in his clinic’s office. Mom is still in her sleeping robe. She probably has charity work today.

Bruce only lets go of Alfred’s hands for good morning kisses from his parents.

They have breakfast.

He doesn’t seem to have school today; Alfred dresses him in his much-smaller-in-Alfred’s hands peacoat, hands him a wrapped lunch, and waves goodbye as Mom takes him in her taxi to the city.

Everything seems….warm. Fuzzy. Mom’s hand holds his as they walk through hazy city streets on their way to her charity work. Her smiles are painful and familiar in Bruce’s heart. Although he can’t remember why, he’s missed them. He plays packed games and toys with her desk pens as his mother’s office does work around him.

He blinks, and they’re at dinner. His mother is in evening dress, although his father looks like he’s rushed here fresh from work. Bruce’s shed peacoat is on the chair behind him. They’re having his favorite meal. Alfred is plating Bruce’s seconds.

Bruce thinks he’s going to cry. He doesn’t know why all the quiet domesticity hurts like a wound to the stomach. Dinner is the same as it’s always been. Bruce goes to bed with goodnight hugs and kisses and I love you!s and it feels like something has been ripped out of him and he is bleeding. All his strength is leaving him.

Or, perhaps, Alfred is right, and he’s just tired. Alfred leads him up the stairs, cracks open his door. Waits for Bruce to enter before him.

Something is wrong about the room placement. Bruce can’t put his finger on it. Bruce is supposed to be in the other room. (His parents’ room).

No, he’s not… Yes, he is. This is supposed to be Dick’s room.

The bleeding sensation in his stomach gets bigger. Deeper. Bruce presses his hand there, and looks to see if he’s bleeding. He’s. Not? But the sensation of wetness is there. He just can’t see it.

Alfred is asking for him. Bruce can’t see his face anymore—just the spot where his face is supposed to be. The colors of the walls fade. There’s water covering his socked feet. When he looks down, there’s nothing there, not even a puddle?

Where is Dick? Where did he go? He’s supposed to be in this room—this room hasn’t been Bruce’s in years—no, he just work up in it this morning. Where’s—

Batman claws out of his dream with heaving chest. He swallows back bile before he accidentally leaves evidence of his passage, because—

Right. He’s after his ward. He’s retrieving Dick from his captors. His clawed gloves dig into the castle’s plush carpet as he tries to gain back a semblance of balance. He’s trembling. He’s no use to the rescue mission if he’s trembling.

Pity, a voice slithers out. Bruce’s neck cracks as his head jerks up. Up above his bent form is an indistinct body of stars. I was hoping I could feed on you more. Never mind your breaking and entering; I’ll inform the King of your attendance. I believe there’s a special moment for a special bird in the throne room.

Bruce feels his wan face grow paler yet. This is—worse than he thought. They know whose Dick’s second identity is. At the very least, they feel comfortable implying who Dick’s second identity is.

The body of stars slides down and away. It convalesces into some sort of elegant form, a goat-shaped face topped with ram’s horns.

It doesn’t matter. It does because it reveals Bruce’s location to the entity who wishes his ward ill, but it doesn’t because it does not change that Bruce has to get to the throne room and fix this. Whatever this is. Whatever’s going on.

Whatever. Bruce hurls himself through walls and looks for the throne room.

He finds one room entirely swathed in blackness. Bruce would withdraw himself from it, except. There’s a ping on his comm. His finger goes to click it automatically. “Ro—“

There’s no further sound. The lights around him click on—blinding in their intensity, until his cowl cycles into its sunglass lenses and Bruce can finally see.

He wishes that he hadn’t.

Skyscraper-high above him, scraping the rounded ceiling at its height, is a platform. On it—surrounded by colorful ghosts flipping and walking midair—is Dick.

No. Is Robin.

Dick is clearly still sick. He’s clutching himself, taut and shaking, and Bruce thinks he can hear sniffles over the comm in his ear. But there is a domino on his face and he is dressed in the bright colors and cape, a hundred thousand feet in the air.

Bruce’s heart races. “DICK!”

“B?” Dick shouts back, faint as the wind. His head tilts around. Bruce realizes that Dick can’t see him. Probably can’t see anything with the stage lights. The entire floor would be a swath of darkness and a deadly drop. “B-Bee? B, are you there?”

“I’m here,” Bruce reassures loudly, just in case Dick’s comm isn’t working. “I’m here.”

“That’s right, the guest of honor is here!” one of the colorful ghosts shouts, and lights play on the arched dome of the ceiling above them. “Now, for the star of the show! Everyone welcome Robin, last living son of the Flying Graysons! Round of applause from the audience!”

The room is empty of everyone but the performers and superheroes. Still, applause echoes hollowly from the walls, as if there are beings living in them, or the memory of what applause is meant to sound like.

There isn’t a clear answer as to how Dick got up there—there is neither a ladder nor a net to have climbed up to reach the platform. What is clear is that there is only one way down, and Dick’s yellow-caped form is surrounded by hostile spirits in diamond unitards, all grinning identical, captivating smiles at audiences that aren’t there.

“Tonight, we celebrate the reunion of a family! This little bird is going to meet his parents again at long last. Round of applause for the petit Robin, getting his wings at long last!”

The applause goes on and on. The sound thunders in Bruce’s ears. His veins go cold. There’s a burst of noise—and then confetti begins its descent, fluttering around them in a cloud of colors.

“B?” Dick whimpers over the comm. His usual confidence is gone. There is no grapple gun. No trapeze. No wires, no edges. No nets. Only hungry ghosts at his back, ready to end the life of a little bird. “I’m scared.”

“Don’t—“ Bruce doesn’t want to lie to his son. So he doesn’t. He will simply have to succeed. He holds out his hands. “Don’t worry. I’ll catch you.”

“Bee?”

“I’ll catch you, Robin. Focus on me, okay?”

The comm crackles. “…Okay.”

Bruce swallows. The voices and the applause swallow him down just as equally, and he fights to stay present and focused. He holds out both hands. There isn’t a choice. He has to catch Dick. There is no acceptable alternative.

“I love you,” Dick says, suddenly, and that’s the only warning before Robin’s small form begins to plummet from the platform. Bruce isn’t close enough. He sprints, arms outstretched. The sight is—it’s hauntingly reminiscent of the night they met—the plummeting, the gravity, the inability to breathe, but now it’s worse because Bruce has dared to care and he loves this boy more than he can stand to rationalize his feelings for—

Bruce catches his boy around the waist. Dick is in his arms. Thank God.

Bruce sobs. Dick one-ups him by bursting into tears. There’s some functioning part of Bruce that approves of age appropriate expressions of emotion; meanwhile, the rest of him has joined Dick in his tears.

It’s instinct and immediate to pull Robin’s shivering, crying form under Batman’s cloak. Not a moment too soon: the acrobatic ghosts on the ceiling whoop and cheer, dropping from their midair revelry to descend upon them. Bruce curls up around his child. He’ll have to be the wall between Dick and the world once again.

“Love you,” Bruce mumbles, just to verbalize the emotion. Just once.

And then everything goes quiet.

    There’s only the sound of Dick’s labored breathing. Bruce peels back the cloak to only see what’s in front of them.

There’s a child in the room. No one else. The colors, the lights, the confetti are all gone. He looks like Dick. He has the wrong colors—white hair, blue pajamas to Dick’s red ones—but the features are close enough to be…eerie. The effect is likely on purpose.

“It’s okay,” the boy says. An echo layers over his voice. “It’s over. No one is coming to get you.”

Bruce doesn’t move. There is no evidence to prove the statement as fact.

“There were statements made about a hundred year sentence. And an execution.”

The boy doesn’t move. And then, like the corner chipping off an ice cube, a small smile cracks through a serene façade.

“…I mean either of you. He was never in any danger. And besides, it’s over.”

Bruce needs answers. “What is over?”

“The test.” The boy is succinct.

“A test.” It’s certainly not one Bruce had opted into. “Elaborate.”

The boy’s head tilts. Bruce notices for the first time that his eyes are the same unsettling green that he had been forced to swim through to find Dick. They have the same glow as well, casting green light on his cheekbones that flickers as he blinks. “Your son says that you are a good guardian. That he trusts you to care and protect him as needed, that you would fetch him if he were in any danger far from you.”

…All of which Bruce had done. He doesn’t quite let up from his crouch. There’s no guarantee that the danger actually has passed. But it’s easy enough to rearrange his stance, to lift a quietly hiccupping Dick onto his hitched leg, to put the boy’s head on his shoulder.

The little ghost looks…fond. “I see that he was correct. As such, I have something to entrust to you.”

Bruce is rather tired of the games. “Not interested.”

The white-haired boy smiles. Little fangs protrude from white lips. “See it first. I will return you home despite either decision you make.”

And then he’s off—skipping towards the back of the room, the ethereal glow following him. The spotlights are gone, if they ever existed. There is no sign of the absent audience, the acrobats, the Ghost King that had been teased in other conversation.

There is something in the back of the room. Bruce can’t make out what it is. But the boy lifts the top and dips his arms down into it, retrieving a green-wrapped bundle from inside.

The ghost boy darts back.

In his arms is a human infant. Bruce would recognize the look and feel of real flesh anywhere. This is a newborn. So new, in fact, it’s almost purple.

“You might recognize his mother’s name,” the boy offers, bouncing. It is very clear, suddenly, that this conversation was the end game. “She gets the Al-Ghul name from her father, who sold the baby to me.”

Bruce’s lungs choke. No, Talia wouldn’t have—would she—?

The ghost doesn’t even ask before putting the baby on top of Dick, careful to balance the baby and his ward both until Bruce’s arms are around one each.

The baby grouses ever so slightly in its sleep. Dick opens gummy eyes to wipe shaking fingers across the emerald swaddling cloth.

“Baby,” Dick breathes. The grabby hands should have been expected at that point.

“Robin. You are ill.”

More grabby hands. God help them both.

The ghost laughs. Bruce would dare call it a giggle. “I cannot keep him here, or he will be dead in all the ways that matter to the living. I’ll trust you to raise this precious thing of mine, Bruce Thomas Wayne. When he becomes his own man, we may speak of his role between worlds.”

And with that alarming statement, the floor around them becomes dotted with dozens of bright points, speckled amongst the carpeting and tile. The floor dips down, drags itself out from beneath them. They are surrounded by a floor of stars, floating. Floating, until—

Bruce wakes up in bed.

****

He thinks he had a bad dream last night. Bruce doesn’t remember it all, but he isn’t sure he wants to, either; his time in the league has taught him how unsettled nightmares can make him.

Bruce washes his face. Brushes his teeth.

He has a vague memory of being worried about Dick in his dream the night before. It’s probably related to his ward’s sudden illness, but that doesn’t mean that he can’t check in on him. Just that he has an understanding how the dream originated. Bruce might ordinarily be the first downstairs and meet Dick at the breakfast table. For now, he exits the master bedroom and looks for his ward.

Dick, unexpectedly, finds Bruce first—slamming his door open, spotting his guardian in the hallway, and electing to make a running leap into Bruce’s chest.

Bruce stands there and takes it, of course. Moving might disrupt the boy’s trajectory and put him in danger of collision. Dick nearly smacks his skull against Bruce’s in his haste.

“Good morning, Dick.”

“BRUCE!” Dick shouts, which is…not unusual, but is rare so early in the morning. He clings to his guardian’s broad shoulders. “Bruce—B, I had a bad dream!”

Huh. “So did I, chum,” Bruce validates, wrapping his arms around Dick so he doesn’t fall. “Coincidental. You’re feeling better this morning.”

“Yeah!” Dick agrees with a grin. “That’s because I wasn’t sick! It was a ghost.”

Bruce’s mood does a 180. “It was a what?”

“A ghost,” Dick reiterates, impatient. His bony knees dig into Bruce’s ribs. “He gave me a ghost disease. But ghosts aren’t real so now I’m all better.”

Bruce wants to ask more questions. He really does. But then there’s a faint little cry from behind one of the shut doors of the family wing, and Dick beams like the sun has come out from the cloud. “Put me down!!”

Bruce, numb, does. Dick scampers off after the sound in his jammies, popping open the door across then hall, and then the one next to it, before ducking into the room with the door ajar.

Dick screams like a bird, and the cry grows louder. Bruce darts into the room after them.

In a previously untouched family bedroom is a walnut-brown cradle. Dick is leaning over the side and cooing like a dove, one hand in and on his tippy-toes as he tries to reach…something.

Bruce’s deja vu of his dream gets stronger. He thinks he knows what he’ll find, but…

He approaches slowly. Lets his gaze fall inside.

Inside is a tiny, Talia-brown baby boy, swaddled and grouchy.

He’s probably hungry, Bruce’s brain says. He probably needs diapers, ASAP. The rest of brain promptly lights itself on fire.

“B it’s your baby!” Dick crows, as if he was in on this. “Look, we got it back! Ooh! Ooh! Do you think it’s a boy or a girl?!”

Bruce carefully sits down on the floor before his legs lock. The nine year old takes the opportunity to climb atop his lap to reach the crib better.

There’s no clear path out of this one. So, of course, Bruce shouts back into the hall: “Alfred?”

Alfred, who has clearly had a morning of his own, rushes up the stairs and into the room without his coat, only to find his previously-missing employer, his previously-kidnapped ward, and an infant on the floor of an unoccupied bedroom.

“What have you done now?” Alfred asks, more out of gross curiosity than genuine interest. Bruce shrugs.

“Actually, do not tell me. Young Master—yes, pass the little one here, please. Thank you, Master Dick.”

There is a lot of tender memory of a younger Bruce that he must have once been in Alfred’s care; the unwrapping of the swaddle, the gentle check of limbs, of the stomach, the hands and feet. The baby is in good health, if a little lethargic.

Dick peeks into the makeshift changing-table bed as Alfred attends to the infant. “It’s a boy!” Dick shouts two inches away from the butler’s ear, startling Alfred, the baby, and a too-sensitive Bruce all at once.

Bruce opens his arms, and Dick obligingly hops in them. He’s clingier this morning than usual. Bruce isn’t sure why, but he does feel the same, so he resolves to selfishly accept all the hugs Dick is willing to spare today.

“Thank you for checking,” Bruce says, and makes a not to remind Dick about body privacy again.

“Having a first son is important,” Dick announces, apropos of nothing. “Pop Haley used to talk about it all the time. How do you feel about it?”

Bruce thinks. Gives the question its due consideration. Opens his arms, just to see what will happen, and isn’t surprised to see Dick fall into them, relieved to be wanted.

“Well,” Bruce says. “I think I already have one.”

This is clearly the wrong thing to say; Dick looks at him, stares deep into his guardian’s eyes, and promptly cries loudly enough to compete with the baby.

(Hours later, Bruce will run his hands over the new cradle while putting his son to sleep, and find Damian Al-Ghul Wayne etched neatly into the crib railing.)

[corrupted-nightshade]

List of things that point towards Gojo Satoru & Geto Suguru being kissers of boys with connections to eachother

(If they did kiss though is another story)

Note: the list will be divided into different sections with space in between. So don't go speed scrolling through if you don't want spoilers. :"3

Some of these are less serious, but are still included because all the more content for these two sillies.

--- Last updated: April 26th, 2024 Note: Make sure to check the original post if viewing a reblog version in case Tumblr does not update things under the "read more" like it used to be able to.

Various

572. This number is used frequently as a ship number for the two as "GoGe" the ship name can also be produced as "GoNatsu". Go means 5 and the rest sound similar to 72. These numbers ironically show up accross the series a few times and also in official merch. (Some examples being a clock in season 2 episode 1 stopped at 5 hours 7 minutes 20 seconds or a Gojo teddy bear priced at ¥57,200)

JJK official fanbook

"Q: Please tell us his first impression when he first met Geto. A: Bangs."

"Q: He seems to be aware that he is handsome, but doesn't he want a lover? A: I can't imagine Gojo being faithful to a particular woman."

"Q: Is there anything you are particular about Geto's character design? A: Bangs"

One of Gojo's songs & one of Geto's songs given to them. "Shame on you" by "Avicii" (a break up song) for Gojo and "Come back Home" by "Two door cinema club" for Geto. Stated in volume 3 chapter 24.

The sheer amount of times Geto shows up in MMVs for Gojo and how they display the impact Geto had on Gojo (For example, the latest MMV for volume 26's release)

Their birthday's solar terms tying in with parts. (Geto being "Risshun" beginning of spring & Gojo being "Taisetsu" heavy snow.)

Rings for them that were released on August 8th, which is "Pairing day" in Japan

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.

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Jujutsu Kaisen 0

Geto's kesa is specifically a Gojo kesa

Gojo stating in 0 that

"I've always believed... ...Love manifests the most distorted curses." / "This is my personal theory, but there's no curse more twisted than love."

Even after 10 years, Gojo recognized Geto's smell. (The mall scene after Yuta & Toge fought the curse)

Geto renaming someone to "Sato" because

"That's what I've decided, so Sato is better."

This sunset scene

Gojo's veil is black & Geto's veil is white. Gojo's veil causes darkness, Geto's does not. [Peep who reminded me]

The song "This is pure love" not only plays over Yuta & Rika vs Geto, but also plays over Geto & Gojo's conversation

The way that Geto looks at Gojo & says his name, and how Gojo looks at Geto & says his name

Geto's blushing face at Gojo that we were robbed of in the anime

Some of the lines from the JJK 0 light novel lines

"Yet Gojo's bandage-covered eyes kept watching, kept following the shape of Geto's soul."

"But to Gojo Satoru, he was —— '————, ————' '...ha.' When he heard the words Gojo blurted out, Geto couldn't help but laugh. Such embarrassing [...] words. Even why they were students, those words had never been said before. 'You should've at least cursed me a little before the end.' December 24, 2017. The curse called Geto had been well and truly exorcised."

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.

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Season 1

JJK Juju stroll

"Q: What kind of person is your type?" Gojo: "[...]The one who seemed nice. With the notable bangs."

yes, i know who he stated but the way he answered was so half arsed as he struggled to come up with an answer as an example of his type. 💀

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Season 2

Again, the way they look at each other and say each other's names (There's another picture with Gojo looking at Geto, but I'm missing it right now)

THE HECKIN GOJO & GETO VALENTINES CAKE??

They literally even have a themed honeymoon place???

Geto makes sure Gojo has his favorite soda. :3

Part 1 / volume 8 - 9

The intro for season 2 part 1

"Even after I got to know the smell of you, different from mine"

"In such a color as if it were a silent love"

"I've got a curse word for you stuck in the back of my throat"

The outro for season 2 part 1:

"Even trivial conversations are fine Show me your blushing face once more"

"It only exists here I want to touch you"

The fish in the outro

The flowers in the intro & outro. [Peep who reminded me]

The purple ones (Located on table in the part where older Gojo is sitting in a chair by a window) are possibly Primula/Primrose flowers. They can represent young love, beauty, desire, desperate, and can be a symbol of spring and renewal/new beginnings. etc.

The yellow ones (Located in the part where Gojo & Geto are sitting together with their hands & cans of soda surrounded by the flowers) are possibly osmanthus flowers. They can represent love, passion, happiness, beauty, etc.

[See here , here, here , here , here , here ]

Geto not answering Tsukumo Yuki's question of what kind of woman is his type more than once

When Geto is asked by Haibara if he would like a sweet or savory souvenir, Geto says

"Satoru will probably have some too, so maybe something sweet."

Part 2 / volume 11

This whole image (Geto in the glasses on the left, and Kenjaku's silhouette on Gojo's face on the right)

Season 2 part 2's "Specialz" intro hidden meaning

Despite the following about Geto's state, Geto's body still instinctively reacted to stop Kenjaku from hurting Gojo.

"Q: Fake Geto's arm was moving during the Shibuya Incident, but how much of Geto's consciousness remains in the body? A: Not much. He was moving like how a dragonfly whose neck was torn off can move."

Fun fact: Some owls pair/bond for life (Whether the owl is supposed to be Geto's because Kenjaku is using Geto at the time or it's not Geto's animal because that is Kenjaku is up to you)

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Volume 26

The Camilla flowers with snow. Not only do they represent Gojo well with their meaning, including one meaning being unchanging/strong love alongside modest love / beauty for pink, but flowers are given to different dates. The birth flower of February is this flower, said to bloom on the 3rd of this month. Aka Geto's birthday.

Chapter 236

Gojo actively chose to fight on December 24th (a day considered romantic for Japan) which is now the day both Geto and him have died on. Even Kenjaku acknowledges the days significance with

"Ha ha! How romantic. Isn't it gross to make plans with each other on Christmas eve?"

These lines

Both Gojo & Geto's volumes' numbers can have bad meanings in Japan. 4 can mean death & 9 can mean to suffer/agony. (I put this under volume 26's section because of the spoiler)

---

There's likely more, but this is what we could think of right now. XD If you have anything you want to add on, feel free to send it my way because the more help the better & easier this is. (^w^ ) Same for any corrections to the list (as it's just me writing up this post and I may make slip ups)

[kp777]

Here’s Where Kamala Harris Stands on Climate

She pursued polluters as attorney general in California and later staked out bold positions as a senator, including sponsorship of the Green New Deal.

By Lisa Friedman

The New York Times

July 22, 2024

Vice President Kamala Harris has for years made the environment a top concern, from prosecuting polluters as California’s attorney general to sponsoring the Green New Deal as a senator to casting the tiebreaking vote as vice president for the 2022 Inflation Reduction Act, the largest climate investment in United States history.

As she runs for the White House, Ms. Harris is widely expected to try to protect the climate achievements of the Biden administration, a position that could resonate with voters during a summer of record heat. A clear majority of Americans, 65 percent, wants the country to focus on increasing solar, wind and other renewable energy and not fossil fuels, according to a May survey by the Pew Research Center.

Last year, Ms. Harris flew to the United Nations global climate summit in Dubai, United Arab Emirates, where she told world leaders that “the urgency of this moment is clear. The clock is no longer just ticking, it is banging. And we must make up for lost time.”

That was a subtle reference to former President Donald J. Trump, who made the United States the first and only country to withdraw from the global Paris Agreement to limit greenhouse gas emissions. (The United States subsequently rejoined under President Biden.) The Republican nominee in the current race for the White House, Mr. Trump has indicated that he would again pull back from the global fight against climate change if he is elected in November.

“Around the world, there are those who seek to slow or stop our progress, leaders who deny climate science, delay climate action, and spread misinformation,” Ms. Harris said at the summit. “In the face of their resistance and in the context of this moment, we must do more.”

Republicans have targeted the Inflation Reduction Act, promising to overturn it if they win control of Congress and the White House. That law pumps more than $370 billion over 10 years into wind, solar, batteries and electric vehicles. It is designed to help the country move away from fossil fuels, the burning of which is driving up global temperatures. At their convention last week, Republicans promised to halt any transition away from oil, gas and coal, and to promote more fossil fuel development.

Asked if Ms. Harris would pursue the policies she supported as a senator, like the Green New Deal, her climate adviser, Ike Irby, said she would focus on implementing the Inflation Reduction Act, which she helped to pass.

“She will fight every day for all Americans to have access to clean air, clean water, and a healthy environment,” Gina McCarthy, who served as national climate adviser under Mr. Biden, said in a statement Sunday. “Vice President Harris would kick ass against Trump.”

The vice president incorporated climate change into foreign relations, holding a round table in Bangkok to connect environmental activists with clean energy experts and starting a partnership with Caribbean countries to address climate change.

As a senator from California, the state that is at the forefront of climate policy, Ms. Harris promoted electrifying school buses to reduce greenhouse gases and to cut children's exposure to diesel engine pollution. She also supported efforts to replace lead water pipes and promoted measures to help agriculture become more resilient to drought.

But she also took positions far to the left of Mr. Biden on climate change.

She was an original co-sponsor of the Green New Deal, a nonbinding resolution supported by liberal Democrats that called for the United States to transition to 100 percent clean energy within a decade while providing people with job guarantees and “high-quality health care.” The measure never got out of committee.

When Ms. Harris ran for president in 2020, her climate plan called for a $10 trillion increase in spending over a decade as well as a price on carbon, with a dividend that would have been returned directly to households. Economists have said that a carbon tax would be the most effective way to get industries to reduce their pollution.

She also favored a ban on hydraulic fracturing, known as fracking, which Mr. Biden said he opposed. Fracking is a technique that injects water and chemicals underground at high pressure to extract oil or gas that is otherwise difficult to access. Environmentalists say it pollutes the air and groundwater. California regulators have taken steps to ban fracking.

As California’s attorney general, Ms. Harris challenged federal approvals of offshore fracking along the California coast. She investigated whether Exxon Mobil lied to the public and its shareholders about the risks to its business from climate change, and whether such actions could amount to securities fraud and violations of environmental laws, but the case did not result in a prosecution.

She would later claim during a Democratic forum on climate change in 2019 that she had sued Exxon Mobil, which fact checkers reported as untrue. She did obtain settlements from other oil and gas companies, including Chevron and BP, over allegations that they violated pollution laws.

In 2019, Ms. Harris joined Representative Alexandria Ocasio-Cortez, Democrat of New York, to introduce legislation that would require the government to consider the impact of environmental regulations or laws on low-income communities, which tend to be disproportionately vulnerable to climate disruption because they are often located in flood zones, near highways, power plants and polluted land.

As vice president, Ms. Harris does not use the phrase “Green New Deal,” which has been relentlessly mocked by conservatives, who use it as shorthand for all climate and clean energy policies.

Her Republican opponents are not likely to let her forget it, though.

“During her ill-fated and short-lived 2020 presidential campaign, Harris was an early and enthusiastic supporter of the Green New Deal and called for so-called ‘carbon neutrality’ by 2030, all of it with a $10 trillion price tag,” Daniel Turner, executive director of Power The Future, a group that advocates for fossil fuels, said in a statement.

He called Ms. Harris part of the “climate cult that calls the shots in today’s Democratic Party.”

Evergreen Action, an environmental group, endorsed Ms. Harris on Sunday. The youth-led Sunrise Movement, which last week called on Mr. Biden to end his bid for re-election, praised his decision to step away. The group did not directly endorse Ms. Harris but said any replacement must “put forth a bold vision to tackle the climate crisis and fight for our generation.”

Other organizations said they were holding back an endorsement until the Democratic nomination process is completed.

Article share from The New York Times.

[thezombieprostitute]

Tech Tuesday: Double G's

Summary: A "friendly" competition comes to an end, for now.

A/N: I really don't know what I'm doing with these two other than having fun. 😄

The monthly competition was coming to a close. Geralt was still up by two. God was putting in a final effort, one more push, but he knew it was inevitable. That didn't stop him from growling when Geralt went to move the rubber ducky from God's desk to his.

Geralt quietly huffed. You've lost the battle this month. Just let me take the prize already.

God glared back at him. It ain't over until it's over. Hands off.

A raised eyebrow. Are you sure you don't just want to admit defeat?

A lowering of the eyes. I know I've lost. A slight crinkle of his nose. But the ducky remains in place until time to hand it over.

A small nod. You are right. That was unsportsmanlike of me.

An eye roll. Can you believe they haven't figured out what we're competing for?

A chuckle. Unfortunately. They're not the most observant of people.

"Hmm," God nods. You're not wrong. It's a shame, really.

They both hear the footsteps approaching their cubicle.

"Fuck," Geralt quietly moans. It's Johnny again.

God lets out a sigh. I got rid of him last time. It's your turn now.

A chuckle with a raised eyebrow. We could always scare him away again.

A squinting of the eyes. We can only do that when he's actually interfering with work. Otherwise we'll get in trouble.

On cue, Johnny steps into their cubicle, "hey! How's everything going?" Without a word, Geralt holds out a candy bar from the stockpile he keeps in his desk drawer. Johnny grabs it, "thanks! Knew I could count on you!" He leaves before Geralt can try to take it back.

"Huh," God raises an eyebrow. You think the reason he keeps interrupting us is because we keep giving him candy?

Geralt lets out a big sigh. It's a lot easier than dealing with his pranks.

A small nod. True enough.

When it's time to clock out, God was still down by one. He moves the rubber ducky to Geralt's desk with a slight nod of his head. Until next month.

Tech Tuesdays Masterlist

Tagging @alicedopey; @delicatebarness; @ellethespaceunicorn; @icefrozendeadlyqueen; @jaqui-has-a-conspiracy-theory; @late-to-the-party-81; @lokislady82 ; @peyton-warren @ronearoundblindly; @stellar-solar-flare

[paradoxgavel]

Pit Stop - Sun/Reader

Oh hey I wrote a thing! Just some stress-related fluff.

You are currently running around the Pizzaplex with all the fervor and grace of an over-caffeinated emu.

The Pizzaplex has been understandably busy lately - it's Summer and all the kids are out of school and piling into the Plex instead. It's something you foresaw, but not necessarily something you were prepared for. Because more patrons means more messes to clean, more damages to repair, more potential animatronic-related accidents to prevent. (People REALLY don't like being told not to use flash photography on the animatronics.) And so, for the past few... weeks? Has it been weeks now? The days are blurring together. For the last few fuckin' whatevers, it's just been go go go go from the second you clock in to the second you clock out.

It's... not gone unnoticed. Freddy's been awful worried for you lately, always checking in with you whenever he and you get a free moment together - an increasing rarity. But he's always got a big ol' bear hug waiting for you when you need it.

Chica's always sneaking snacks into your supplies. One time you found a little pack of cookies she'd somehow managed to sleight-of-hand into hiding in your uniform's hood in passing.

Roxy's invited you to come hang out in her room with her for a bit. She says she needs someone to listen to some new keytar riffs she's been working on and "you'll have to do", but... you can tell she really just wants to hang with you for a bit.

Even Monty's eased off picking on you lately. He tried busting your chops one day recently, and you're pretty sure you gave him a cold death glare that could turn even an animatronic to stone. He's been giving you an easier time since then. Even offered to take you golfing with him in case you needed to get some of that stress out.

And when your job brings you to the arcade after hours, you can't help but notice a certain giant DJ playing some nice lo-fi beats for you while you work. You'd be lying if you said it didn't help chill you out after a day of unrelenting frazzlement. If that's even a word.

And then... there's Sun and Moon. Your best friends in the Plex. When it comes to Moon, he's noticed how bone-tired you are at the end of each day, because he's quite literally hard-wired to notice such things. And so, if you want to have any hope of getting any work done during the night, you have to keep an eye out for a certain mechanical jester who wants to scoop you up, have you stop what you're doing, and tuck you in - pillow, blanket, plushies, good night head pats... the works. He's managed it a few times now. The fiend. The blackheart. The dastard. (Buuut... you do always wind up waking up feeling a lot better. And your work always seems to be finished up where you left off - shout out to the STAFF bots, heh...)

And Sun. Sun, who is currently watching you hustle and bustle around like that aforementioned caffeinated emu through the transparent panes around the daycare. You've got a million things you need to do today - so many messes to clean and repairs to do and customers to deal with and bots to supervise and--

"Hoooold it!!"

A familiar yellow mechanical arm lowering down into your path through the open daycare doors as you begin to hurry past them interrupts your frenzied train of thought and blocks your path - like a barrier gate in front of a toll booth. One with jingling bells attached.

You stop in your tracks in front of the arm, glancing up at its owner - your solar-themed robotic jester buddy, grinning down at you, bouncing a bit in place. "Attention, citizen! I'm afraid your weary travels have led you to the Superstar Turnpike! You've gotta stop and pay the toll if you wanna keep going!" He says with a chuckle.

You blink, processing this for a moment, before your tensed up body relaxes just a smidgen, putting your rush on hold for a moment, though you can still feel it buzzing in your chest - like a big electric ball of anxiety forcing you to stay on high alert. You give Sun a small, weary smile, and one of your eyebrows raises as you play along with him. "Oh, yeah? And what's the toll, then?"

Sun giggles at that, pleased as punch by you giving his antics a moment. He holds a finger up in the air like he's making a grand declaration. "The toll is, of course, one great big snuggly hug with yours truly!" He answers proudly... before more meekly tagging on, "I-If you'd like one. No worries if not."

You look him over for a moment, then sigh, a fond, grateful smile coming to your lips. Your arms raise outward in invitation. "... Bring it in, big guy." A quiet chuckle leaves you, soft and warm even in the weary sound of it.

Sun's rays spin around a quick moment, his hands taking a second to flap, getting the excitement out, before you're scooped up off the ground effortlessly. You're pulled in to be gently tucked against his mechanical shoulder, his arms wrapped around you, keeping you securely aloft, holding you safe and steady and warm. One hand smooths up and down your back, in a slow, comforting rhythm, as your head rests against his neck ruffle. "Theeere we go, friend." Sun hums, his voice quieter, gentler than usual - toned down for your sake. "Is that good? Are we comfy?"

You nod, giving a little hum in the affirmative - that buzzing in your chest a little quieter, and that racing train of thought in your head slowing down for a pit stop. "Mhm..."

Sun's chin rests itself on your head, nuzzling against you just a smidge as he rocks side-to-side, slow and easy. "Glad to hear it! Now... I need you to take a biiig, deep breath for me. Okay? Can we do that?"

You nod once more, then draw a deep, slow breath in through your nose, feeling the air fill your chest up... And then you let it out just as slowly, feeling the air leave you, like it's carrying your tension, your rush, your anxiety with it. When you've finished that breath out, your shoulders slump, calm and at ease. Maybe not entirely relaxed, but... certainly much more than you were just a minute ago. You're okay. Everything's okay. Everything's still going to be there waiting for you when you're done taking a breather. And it's going to be easier to handle after you've given yourself a moment of rest.

You close your eyes and snuggle into the hug a bit more, focussing on your breathing.

After a few moments of that, Sun holding you and rocking you back and forth, quiet for a moment while he lets you sort things out in your head, you pull back a bit. And he pulls back as well, holding you in front of him so that his bright, grinning face can look you over.

"Well, gosh, buddy, you're looking better already!" The hand that was petting your back comes up to lightly brush some hair out of your face. "Now let's see here... Hug, check. Deep breaths, check. Oh, something's missing here, I just can't think of what!"

He makes a big show tapping his chin in thought, his rays retracting and extending again around his head in a wave, making him look like some kind of loading screen symbol. That earns a little giggle from you at his goofiness, which, in turn, immediately makes him brighten up.

"Oh, oh, oh! That's it, friend! There's that wonderful little smile of yours! And my favorite laugh in the whole wide world! Of course that's what was missing, silly me!" He laughs, turning around on his heels with you in his arms to give you a gentle spin, earning another laugh from you, before he sets you down on your own two feet, a little boop on your nose for good measure. "Sooo. What's the verdict, friend? Are we ready to get back out there?"

You nod, still with a little trace of your giggle fit not having quite left you.

"Are we absolutely, positively certain, friend?" He rocks back and forth on his heels a bit, letting his arms swing back at fourth at his sides in a steady, bouncy rhythm.

"Sunny," You put your hand on your hips playfully. "We are absolutely, positively, one million percent certain. I... I got this now." You say, and... you do really mean it now. Everything feels a bit more manageable. You can make it through today at least. Just... one day at a time, one thing at a time. You can handle that, you think. You'll try, at least. And, well... you know you don't have to go it alone. Yeah. You've got this.

Sun gasps dramatically. "One million percent?! Well, goodness gracious, friend, you really mean business! All your tasks oughta be shaking in their boots!" He gives you a big, goofy salute. "Go give the rest of this day what for, then! Godspeed!"

With that, he gives you that salute and closes the door with a grand flourish.

... Only for it to open back up a few seconds later.

"... also hi do you think we can hang out later? I really wanna hang out." He pokes his head back out, fingers tapping together bashfully.

You can't help but chuckle again at that, nor can you help the warm, genuine smile that spreads across your face. "Yeah. I'd like that, Sunny." He gives a giggle of excitement, his rays twirling. "Now... you and I both have jobs to get back to, yeah? Let's get it done, big guy. And I'll see you again when we're done." You give him a nod, picking your forgotten supplies up once more. "... Love ya, Sun Bun. And thanks. For being here for me."

"Aww, love you too, bestest buddy. I'll always be here for you. Always and always! Now... I'll see you tonight!" And with a big, excited wave, the door closes once more, for real this time, your friend skipping away to get back to work.

You watch him go with a smile. Then you look back down at the supplies in your arms.

One more deep breath. In... and out.

Okay.

Let's do this.

[john-kramers-left-sock]

Inktober Day 6: Golden

Pairing: John Kramer x Reader

Sfw

(I want to do bloody stuff but at the same time I've been desperate for comfort stuff, so here's some sweetness)

The golden hour. The time just after sunrise or before sunset when light is infused with red and gold tones. There was something so soft about this time of day, so distant from the hell that reality really was. When the room was bathed in golden light, and the world was silent, if only for a moment.

As the sun began to rise, you stepped out of your room. The sun shown softly through the windows of the old warehouse, through the rafters and just touching the concrete floor. Your slippers made a soft padding noise as you made your way to that familiar workshop.

John sat at his desk, as always he was tinkering away at his next game. Planning everything down to the last detail, leaving no room for error. He didn't notice your arrival, too caught up in his own work.

"Darling," you call out to him, standing behind his chair. Resting your hands on his shoulders, you begin to massage them gently. A loving touch that was sure to break the man out of his trance. "Did you work all night again?"

"Indeed I did," John spoke after a moment of thought, glancing to the clock on his right. It was now 6am, much later than he had planned being up. His tired eyes squint in the morning sun, as if just recognizing the solar rays. "I'm sorry, dear. I got caught up with work."

"Come on now, stand up. Did you take your pills?" You watch John shake his head, making you sigh. You help him out of his chair and up into the light. Your arms wrap around him, and your head is on his shoulder. For a moment, the two of you stop, just embracing each other in the morning light. "I'm worried about you. Your health is bad enough as it is. You need to take care of yourself"

"I know. Don't worry. It will all work out the way it should. I promise," John's raspy voice mumbled into your hair as he pressed a kiss to your head. He holds you in a soft hug, not having the energy to do much more. His fingers run through your hair gently, treating you like you're delicate, made of porcelain. "You know I love you, right?"

"I know. I love you too. I always will," a smile appears on his face as you say this. Pulling back slightly, you press your lips to his in a kiss. The two of you stand under the golden light, sharing an intimate moment before life must continue on, no matter how hard.

[arottinghouse]

STATION NEBULA-03 : RESCUE MISSION

SPACERIDERS POPPY PLAYTIME AU made by @onyxonline

AUTHORS NOTE : since the au is spaced theme it keeps reminding me of that fnaf-like alien game Alien Blackout sooo yeah. sorry if it’s bad, i’m trying to get back into writing.

OC(s) : Poneriateras/“Fetidteeth”s & Prof. Armaros.

It was a pretty uneventful day, basic patrols were the only thing being sent out, and poppy was late for a meeting. again. Hoppy was considering ditching the meeting all together despite Crafty’s insistence on staying, since it may be important, and Catnap was sleeping on the table. It took 20 minutes for Poppy to come online, and she seemed.. nervous. It was odd, since nothing important was happening as far as the group was aware— Hoppy’s complaints about her taking long were instantly stopped when she noticed her expression. Poppy explained how she had recieved a distress signal from the Station Nebula-03, while it was hushed she was able to hear it, and had to amplify the sound, so that’s why it took so long. Dogday was about to ask what the message said, but decided against it, so Poppy started to play the signal received to brief on the situation.

“This is Professor Armaros Evans, I need urgent extraction from Nebula-03’s research station. If you pick up this signal, proceed with EXTREME caution. There’s… an alien organism loose on the station. It is deadly. Repeat: Deadly!”

From the vents, the sound of a ship docking on the station was carried throughout, alerting whatever was left on it..

“Which camera is it? Come on..”

Armaros mumbled as they flicked through the cameras that were up and working, landing on the entraces camera as they saw a crew of four enter, their vitals appearing on the screen as they stepped inside.

“Yes, finally…” He breathed out in relief, their heart practically jumping in joy at the sight of rescue. They fiddled with the panel for a moment, turning the microphone on so the crew could hear them.

“Hello? This is Armaros Evans. Can you hear me?”

“Uhm.. Hello? I’m Hoppy, one of the spaceriders here. We have —”

He quickly cut her sentence short. “Not so loud! We are all in danger!” They whisper yelled through the microphone.

A loud thud was heard, causing Hoppy to turn.

“What the—?”

Almost on beat, a large, black creature came jumping down from the vents from the right door, where Hoppy and Crafty stood. It let out a horrific wail, causing Hoppy to quickly back away and Craft to fall down on her ass, her hands ready to sheild herself from the attack. Only for the doors to quickly close before the creature could lunge at the group.

“What the hell was that thing?!” Hoppy shouted in surprise.

“Didn’t you get my transmission? This place is a death trap!”

“We.. did get one,” an orange dog, seemingly the leader said. “But our ship was damaged by the station, it fired at us for some reason.. The station mainframe cleared us to dock for repairs.” He explained.

“I’m Craftycorn, a space ranger too.. And yeah, the ship was damaged by the stations fire, Hoppy was able to get us to safety before any major damage was done.. The ship can’t go half a day without another set of scrubbers.”

“Hoppy Hopscotch, I flew us here. We came for you, but we need those parts before we can leave.”

Armaros sighed behind the microphone. “There’s an engineering bay close by, so you should find some spares there. I’ll open the door now.” Slowly, the door in-front of the group opened, allowing them to proceed further.

“Hoppy and Crafty, fetch the parts please. I will stay in the shuttle with Catnap.”

“Figures..” The rabbit mumbled, walking further into the station with Crafty.

“I’m afraid we’re also on the clock here. Thanks to trigger happy security, the grid was damaged. I’ve wired up some solar panels, but their output is limited. They’re only good for 8 minutes before they shit down to charge…”

“So let’s make them count. What do we do, Evans?”

“Take a left to that control room, then bypass the lockdown to get to engineering.”

The two carefully made their ways into the control room, trying to be quiet as they could on the metal floors while also hurrying. They stopped as they reached the panel, Crafty taking the lead.

“Okay, disengaging the lockdown…”

“Where you folks holed up, Armaros?”

“It’s.. just me now, and I’m in the ducts, using a maintenance access point.”

“E..everyone else is dead? My god..”

“The pods were launched prematurely. Some may have made it, I don’t really know.”

“Got it!”

The two looked forward as the doors finally opened.

“Careful now, it’s fast.”

“So what the hell is ‘it’?”

“An alien organism. It lives to kill.”

A foreign voice chimmed in. “A station of this size, devastated by a single entity? Seems unlikely, no matter how ferocious it is.”

“Panic did most of the work, but don’t underestimate this thing, I’ve seen it do worse.”

“Wait— You’ve seen it somewhere else?”

“I’ve encountered these creatures before.. I’m still having nightmares. Ever hear of Mevastopel station?”

“Yes, there was an accidental detonation as it was being decommissioned.”

“Accidental my ass…” He mumbled as Crafty & Hoppy finally made their way in the engineering bay.

“Let’s find those parts and get out of here. Evans, keep an eye on the cameras.”

The two searched the bay thoroughly while Armaros flipped through the cameras.

“They’re not here.. Damnit!”

“There’s a note: “Took the scrubbers, installing them soon. Greg..”

“Thanks for getting us killed, Greg!”

“We can track them down. All service orders can be accessed from the administrative hub.”

“You’ll be needing my credentials then.. Catnap, with me.”

“There’s a door right next to the docking lounge, but the others should return to the shuttle first.”

“Got it.”

There was loud thuds coming from the vents, alerting Armaros as they looked up from the cameras.

“I.. I think I hear it coming.” They said as they looked to the opened duct, the creature quickly crawling towards them causing to scream, closing the vent in the nick of time. The creature banged on it as Hoppy’s voice was heard from the panel.

“Armaros! Hey Evans, are you okay..?”

“Don’t shout, we’ve made too much noise already.” They said as the panel rebooted.

“l had to route all the energy to the duct access, it’ll come back on soon. I’m trying to keep a fix on it with the cameras and motion trackers… But I’ve only got this small portable unit hooked up to an access point. Crafty, what are you doing?”

“U..uhm.. being lost. Kinda panicked there. Can you give me some directions?”

Armaros sighed, finding her on the panels map and directing her back to the entrance.

“Thanks, Armaros.” She sighed in relief.

“Don’t rely on me guiding you all the time. That creature tracks human voices, and those REALLY travel through the ducts. Also no running, if you can avoid it.”

“Right.. Got it.”

“That devils close-“ Hoppy’s voice cut through the conversation, causing Armaros to direct him to hide as they went through the cameras and did their best to direct the two back to the entrance, Dogday and Catnap going in their place as Armaros ordered them two to move it, closing the door behind them once inside to protect the two from the creature in case it came from behind.

“The admin hub isn’t too far, but I’ll need to move to a new access point, i’ll let you know once I’m connected again.”

“Before you go.. tell me, have you worked here for long?”

“The crew pulled me out of a bad situation and brought me here actually. But.. when I came out of hypersleep, most of them were already dead. Did you know what they had cooking here?”

“Are you suggesting the Spaceriders created that creature?”

“No, but this one was born here all right. But we can talk about it after. For now, less chatter.”

LMK IF YOU WANT ME TO FINISH THIS!!

[rfallfish]

Deep Sleep

CW: Death, Grieving

Word Count: 298

Tag List: @mr-orion @leytaylorjohnson @faytelumos

Personal Site Link: https://rainefallfish.com/stories/Sleep.html

Original Venue of Publication: N/A

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Jukebox was built to care for Emily. He woke from low-power mode and gazed down at the yellow dandelions growing around his wheels. He rolled back, bent down, and picked one. Dandelions were Emily’s favorite; he should bring it to her. He picked through the overgrown room and wandered outside.

According to Jukebox’s internal clock, he had been asleep for forty-seven days. Emily turned fifteen today, and Jukebox worried he would miss it. All her other parties had been at the park, but today, she wasn’t there. Bushes and weeds obscured the stone walkways, and the few picnic tables that remained were split by vines. Where was everyone?

Not in town. Jukebox examined every kudzu-covered wall, every buried pothole. No one. Days passed, and Jukebox entered Briarwood Cemetery. He scraped lichen from the headstones and plaques until he stopped at one in the center of the lot.

He set the dandelion on the soil and went to work pulling the overgrowth out of Emily’s little plot of land. He left at dusk and returned at dawn with a few dirty rags. He had hoped to find water for her, but he couldn’t find any that wasn’t infested and dirty. She’d have to be thirsty.

After cleaning Emily’s headstone, Jukebox rolled back and waited for her to wake. Days passed, and Jukebox excitedly rolled back and forth. When weeds started to grow, Jukebox pulled them from the grass. When winter came, he swept the snow off her bed, and when spring came, he gathered dandelions for her. He tended to her until his servos wore out, then he waited for her until his solar chargers malfunctioned.

His mossy, rusted shell still sits in that cemetery, and he waits for the day he can awaken and care for Emily again.