#the child of the reach

[star-anise]

I really wonder if trauma theorists who say things like "Humans are the only animal that will be in a fright state when physically safe" or "the rest of the animal kingdom doesn't get PTSD" have ever, like

Do you think they've actually ever met an animal?

[artkaninchenbau]

People keep on asking for more Baby Robin and Papadile so here is more Baby Robin and Papadile. Now never ask anything from me ever again

[biggest-gaudiest-patronuses]

real talk having the 2nd worst new years eve yet 🤢🤢🤢 (throat infection, twisted neck, banged-about-foot, ego AND the rest o' me all bruised like misjuggled peaches 🍑🍑🍑)

im bent outa shape and suspectin the universe owes me 8 buck if anyone wannsa chip in

[brainrotcharacters]

Mothers and fuckers of the ketchup and mustard household (I'm going even more insane than usual)

[infinitelystrangemachinex]

massages forehead So Ambessa hid Mel away because she was a weapon in the literal sense, a mage. But Ambessa came to Piltover for Hextech? And Ambessa had nothing to say to Mel about her powers having visibly awakened? Even when Mel offered to go with Ambessa, giving her the ultimate opportunity to make Mel a weapon for real? And Ambessa made no attempt to find or retrieve Mel - not just her daughter and the remnants of the family Ambessa professes to love, but also her ultimate weapon - when she disappeared? And Ambessa trusted Singed and Viktor on their home turf - neither of them hiding how insane and self-serving they are with every reason to take over Ambessa's soldiers or just blatantly turn on her as soon as it benefits them - more than she trusted Mel? While Caitlyn (and by extension Piltover) was visibly and clearly falling away from Ambessa's teachings before Ambessa's eyes? (as if getting rid of certain people allows piltover to get rid of fascism but we won't get into All That)

Not only do I struggle to be hyped for Mel's powers beyond how amazing and beautiful she looks, but I can't help but feel like Mel is somehow less powerful in season 2 than she was in season 1, and not in an interesting way. As if Mel's ability to bend all of Piltover politics and economics to her will in season 1 now means nothing in season 2? You can argue that Jinx's attack led directly to Mel losing ground in Piltover - because I expected Mel to have to claw back that power without being able to rely on people who are too easily seduced by Ambessa and authoritarianism, and she would have to get creative to go toe to toe with her mother. I expected pushback to her mage identity that she would have to navigate. But instead this went either unwritten, or was ignored or discarded. Instead Mel is removed from the main plot, cutting her off from what made her the most interesting - only for all of Mel's very real talents, her very real powers and abilities, to be not only translated but REPLACED with magical powers she doesn't know how to control, and by the finale, those magic powers are the only powers that are considered real. Mel takes a backseat to Piltover's governing and decisions, a backseat to Jayce of all people who was not only new to politics mere months ago but made poor governing, strategic, and diplomatic decisions when he had that power. In season 1 Mel stayed off the "throne" but she did pull its strings one way or the other, and she makes no attempt at this in season 2

In my least generous suspicions, Mel was gentled and quieted to capitulate to an agenda for other characters who had to be correct and heroic - or wrong and villainous - no matter what the leadup narrative said, given her powers to help sell the game and set up future shows, and was effectively ejected from the Arcane story with faceless soldiers and a role she doesn't want because she was inconvenient there

[stubz]

"Hey guys! 4 days and the rescue team will be here!...any luck with setting up that emergency shelter?" Quip looked towards the others.

They all groan and curse in response. The small group surrounded by pieces and parts and an instruction sheet.

"It's not hard...it's not! We have everything we need; food, water, first aid, enough to last us weeks! ...So why does our downfall have to because of a faulty packaging?!!" screams Glip throwing down the piece she was holding.

"We're not going to die! We'll just have to sleep in the shuttle tonight and bundle up close tonight..." sighs Quip.

The shuttle had crashed thanks to a malfunction on the navigation system which lead to the shuttle getting blindsided by a meteor shower.

No one was killed and the most injured would surely live and the planet they crashed on was a favorable one. They had plenty of emergency food and water but what they didn't have was a proper shelter. The planet they landed on was freezing cold in the night, reaching far below the negatives.

If only the emergency shelter included the much needed tools necessary to build it...

The night was cold and unforgiving. The shuttle creaked and groaned from the violent winds and accumulating snow on it's roof. The beings inside shivered and prayed that when they fell asleep they would wake up in the morning.

When morning came they had to dig themselves out of the shuttle. Over 3 feet of snow from last night. The roof sank in the center in a way that made everyone nervous.

"...just 3 days. We just have to make it through 3 more days and we'll be rescued." muttered Quip.

"If we don't get suffocated in our sleep that is...or freeze." grumbles Glip.

"Would it kill you to be positive?"

"Oh, I'm sorry! Unlike you I don't have a fur coat to keep me warm in the night and stayed up all night worried that I wouldn't wake up if went to sleep!"

"Stop yelling! You're making the others worry!"

"You-!"

"The human is awake! She woke up!" shouted a purple looking avian.

During the crash the only one to really get injured was the human on board, having hit their head on impact and been unconscious for the past 30 hours.

"...how is she?!" calls Glip

"She's lost it! She's digging through the snow like a lunatic!"

Glip and Quip share a look before heading to the other side of the shuttle where the avian was and looked.

There several yards away was the human who was digging through the snow with her bare hands.

"What's she doing?" asks Quip.

"No idea! She was already awake when I went to check on her looking for something in the shuttle and then made break for it once she saw the door was open...think she's brain damaged or something." they muttered.

"...someone should check on her." Glip says before shoving Quip forward.

..

After some arguing and reminders that out of the three of them he was the most people friendly Quip trudged out where the human was to check on her.

She had dug a hole nearly 4 feet deep and showed no signs of stopping. The look in her eyes and bloody bandages on her head made Quip feel she was too far gone to the Great Stars but he had to the right thing.

"...heeyyyy...Kim...what uh, watcha doing there?" he asked a safe 5 feet away.

"Looking for tools...need tools for the shelter." she muttered.

"Tools? ...Kim the shelter didn't come with tools; they weren't lost in he crash." he tried to gently explain.

"Not those, different tools. Good tools that every planet has."

"And what...tools, are those?"

"Rocks and sticks!"

"...great! Good luck on that!" he walked as fast he could to the others, practicing how to gently break the news that the human was broken.

...

Hours passed and the human Kim had founded 3 rocks of different sizes, some large sticks, and taken whatever pieces of the shuttle that had broken off and put them in a pile in front of the Emergency Instantaneous Shelter manual.

The others looked on with pity with some looking disturbed at how proud she was for her findings.

No one stopped her when she started to grab the pieces of the E.I.S. and smash them together with her rocks and hunks of broken metal. Nor when they heard the scraping and screeching of the metal shards she twisted against them. Without tools it was worthless...plus the determined manic look in her eyes scared everyone too much.

When night was starting to fall everyone had taken refuge in the shelter again. Everyone but the human who was too focused and entertained by the smashing of rocks and scratching of metal.

"Kim! Come inside! You'll freeze out here!" ordered Quip.

"Human! You don't have fur or anything to keep you warm during the night!" Glip shouted.

The human looked at them and smiled, waving and shouting that she was almost finished.

"...she's a little out of it but she's well enough to come inside when she should." Glip pushed her friend through the shuttle door and together they joined the sleep pile.

....

When Glip surfaced from the snow that landed on her face she screamed for everyone to leave. The roof had finally gave and was seconds away from dropping a mountain of snow onto them all.

She grabbed Quip and the purple avian, Kal, and dragged their half-asleep panicked bodies out of the shuttle. When out she watched with them and the others the shuttle concaving from the snow.

The wind and snow bit and scratched their faces and exposed flesh. The shrieks and howls from the dying shuttle, their only hope of surviving the nights, seemed almost organic. The fear and realization of their fate made them shiver more than the cold did.

"DONE! ITS FINALLY FINISHED! LOOK! LOOK AT WHAT I BUILT!!!" The human popped up from the other side of the destroyed shuttle, eyes wide and glowing from the flare she held for light.

When no one came forward fast enough for her liking she scrambled over and grabbed Kal and dragged them towards the thing she built.

"ITS NOT AS NICE AS IT WOULD HAVE BEEN WITH REAL TOOLS BUT I LIKE IT! YOU CAN HAVE SECOND DIBS OF WHAT SPOT YOU WANT!" she shouted over the howling wind.

The two disappeared from view for a minute before Kal popped his head out screaming.

She had built the Emergency Instantaneous Shelter. With nothing but the rocks and pieces of metal she found. It wasn't perfect; a wall or two was dented, the roof was scratched and somewhat held up by two strong sticks she dug up, but it was warm, safe, and dry.

"...how in the f*ck did you build this?" Quip shivered as he climbed inside.

"I just followed the instructions, its pretty simple really." the human smiled.

"...but you didn't have any of the tools!" Glip shrieked.

"Well after reading the instructions I realized that a good rock would perfectly substitute like half of the tools I didn't have. And the metals shards I found worked great as screwdrivers!"

Glip opened her mouth to argue, to scream that a rock was nothing like the sophisticated tools that great engineering minds had invented...until she realized the human was right. The tools simply added the instant to instantaneous shelter. With them you build this grand 20 person shelter in 2 minutes. Without them it would take hours of hard labor.

"...how did you know that a rock would be the perfect substitute?"

"...I don't know. Its basically instinct to most of us. The perfect tool for a simple job is a big heavy object... rock."

"...rock." Glip repeated.

"Rock." the human confirmed.

*weeks later*

"Oh my god it is instinct!" Glip screams as she watches a group of human younglings use rocks to crack open other rocks to simply see the shiny patterns on the inside at the indoor park she walks through. With others using sticks to dig up more rocks to smash.

[lookin-reproachfully]

Twice-over, Ame has essentially paid Mirara a kindness.

As a child, she gave her an earnest compliment and unprejudiced service (Straight up gave her the kitty mug to boot)

Now as a young woman, she let her off the hook by preventing the vote from coming into pass in the first place (Ame could've been petty or spiteful, but she unveiled the double conspiracy against Mirara as saved basically everyone in the coven)

Even when Grandma Wren argued against her, she never really bullied her with the other witches (they were curt in their meeting, but Wren treated her as an opposed equal)

Now, Mirara has a decision to make, does she stick with the old guard that don't really care about her as either a witch or a person? Or does she take the hand once more of the little girl that told her of all people that her dress and mask were pretty?

I wonder if underneath the skulker facade and overall stress from the situation, she genuinely considered taking Ame for herself when she rapid-fired questions at her with unadulterated wonder and curiosity.

Her crow must also be lonely, it is a very social animal, after all

(Lullabies, too, fall under the domain of night)

[randompumpkinkiddo]

Someone should put this european kid on a leash

[poorly-drawn-mdzs]

Sharing is Caring!

[First] Prev <–-> Next

[ofoceansandtombsanew]

kufunua (furahi, furahi)

cw. f!reader, soulmate au (timer), yandere themes, obsessive behaviors, unhealthy relationships, power imbalance

pairing. yan!tartaglia x reader

synopsis. when you make a promise, you have to keep it. for the 11th fatui harbinger, this one is the most precious promise of all.

notes. apparently it wasn't enough for me to write one fic for @mieiri's reach mine. collab, i have to write two pieces. my behemoth of a WIP for my other fic is very much a healthier, fluffier spin for a soulmate au. but there's a joy in exploring the depths of depravity of an unwanted connection. divider by @/cafekitsune

"If you stare into the abyss, the abyss stares back at you."

If you recall correctly, it was a philosopher from Mondstadt who spoke those famous words. In all your years of living, you believe you are only now beginning to understand the depth of them. You can feel it, the heat of madness at the edges of your mind as you stare at the bond in front of you.

Mists of pale lilac enveloped in a starry dark purple, much akin to the monsters of the Abyss that you are no stranger to. It's more like a mast; a parasite eating away at its host it is barely keeping alive. Cloying tight tendrils wrapped around its weaker counterpart possessively. Tighter and tighter it squeezes the harder you try to pull it apart. For every centimeter you are barely able to separate them, the stronger the mast holds with a vengeance.

Dread swirls around you, cold and unforgiving and you shudder.

You've seen many soulmate connections since you've become a spiritspeaker and they seldom look like your own. What kind of person must you be for this to be our bond, you wonder uneasily.

In the entangled mess, an indigo eye stares you.

Mine, it speaks coarsely. Mine.

You stare back.

What kind of person are you?

A typical connection manifests harmoniously, the tendrils of the spirit moving in equal balance and motion. It's much like a waltz, if anything else. It's a beautiful thing to see, vibrant and unique for every bonded coupling. The hues of the partnered spirits are as beautiful as the Sacred Flame itself, flickering much like it as well. Your connection is anything but, the manifestation of your spirit weak, frail and completely overwhelmed by that of its partner.

Much like the person you become once ensnared in your soulmate's grasp. You refuse to become that person.

Whoever your soulmate is, you want nothing to do with them.

The feeling of contempt and anxiety are a stark contrast to your younger years. Back when you were a young girl, wide-eyed and untrained in the spells and rituals of your tribe. You can hardly be blamed for your initial excitement.

The sacred timer on ones wrist counting down to the final second when they'd meet their special person. The people of Natlan revere the blessing of soulmates as much as they do the night and fire. This reverence is doubly so for your tribe. For the Masters of the Night-Wind who are able to see the manifestation of soulmates outside the realm of the physical, there is no greater honor.

The forced symbiosis of your connection is anything but honorable.

Nor is there any beauty.

Henceforth, you'd tried dauntlessly to sever the connection between yourself and your soulmate. A forbidden act in your tribe; how could one be so presumptuous as to dictate the loom of fate itself? It's too easy to separate the dancing of souls, too easy to play deity. If one acts in such a manner, it is more akin to sparks turning to a raging fire burning everything in its path. That's what the elders preached when you had begun your training as a Spiritspeaker. Apparently, the mast of your fated other believed much the same.

It's suppose to be easy, too easy.

It should have been easy.

Yet the parasitic spirit fights back with equal vigor.

Mine, it whispers echo throughout this shard of the Night Kingdom where you lie. It clutches your spirit tighter. Mania. Mine. Mine, it whispers as if reciting prayers. Reverent yet unrepentant. Delirious yet all too lucid. Its grip tightens once more, the near Abyssal eye meeting yours unflinchingly. Mine.

Groggily, your eyes open in the physical realm and the smell of incense fills your nostrils. It takes a moment for you to gather your bearings, your spirit returning to your body testily. You raise your arm, looking at your wrist blearily.

01 d 22 h 1346 m 32 s.

The sight wakes you proper, anxiety humming across your skin. You hide your wrist from your sight, covering it with your hand before exhaling quietly. Once again, your attempt at severing your bond has ended in vain and you barely have two days left.

Two days.

In just under two days, you will come face to face with person who will change your life. That's how little time you have to change your fate. Your grip tightens as if that alone could tear away the timer engraved on your flesh. If only it were all so easy.

Raising to your feet, you approach your spiritloom on feet barely steady. You aren't quite ready to move yet, but you refuse to accept your fate while lying on your back. "I can do this," you murmur, warping your loom with deft fingers as more of yourself returns to waking day. Even with what little time you have, that is more than enough to make a final attempt to preserve your being. You are a priestess of the Night-Winds, one of the best.

What are you if not resourceful?

Expertly, as you have done many times before, you weave the images your mind's eye conjures. Tugging your weft threads expertly into the pattern of the person you'd seen in a ritual you'd done long before. Hours go by until the sun begins to rise and paint the clouds shades of coral and vermillion.

"Abeni," you call for your saurian companion after completing your task. Your legs were sore from standing in place so long and the air of the outside was fresh, the scent of embercores on the breeze.

One of the iktomisaurus' bat-like ears twitch at the sound of her name, looking at you sweetly. Around her neck is a cryo-blue ribbon tied comfortable around her neck with her name stitched dutifully to let others know that she had a human companion.

In spite of the disquiet buzzing in you heart, she has been a comfort. The one who has heard all your concerns regarding your soulmate and the future you are wary to avoid. Compared to most, your ages are in a similar range. Whatever comes your way, Abeni will by your side. You run your hands through the feathers crowning the dragon's head. "I need a favor from you," you manage to turn the corners of your lips up into a smile.

Cautiously, you show Abeni the results of your weaving. The face of the man your fate is tied to.

He's handsome, at least from the details you were able to gather. Fair-skinned, blue eyed and with vibrant ginger hair. An outlander, more than likely. It's only your bad luck that something is bringing him to Natlan, whether it be work or pleasure. Shakily, your fingers dig into the tapestry and you inhale deeply to calm yourself. It's an image that instills fear rather than joy. This is a face you can only hope to never see for the rest of your long life.

Icy blue eyes gaze at the image for a moment before shifting to you. Is this him, the saurian seems to be asking.

Steeling yourself, you nod. "I need you to find where this person is so I can avoid him." Abeni hoots, clicking her beak thoughtfully. "I know I'm asking a lot of you," you murmur. "But this is the only idea I have. If I can avoid this meeting, that should settle everything." When the hour has gone and passed, you could finally be free.

It crosses your mind briefly that Kinich would be perfect for a job like this. Your safety and peace of mind would be more than worth whatever price he deemed acceptable. You ultimately decide against it. You do not know your soulmate personally but you are more than aware of the content of his character. Another person cannot be pulled into your mess.

A person is conspicuous no matter how skilled. The dragons of Natlan are as natural to the scenery as breathing is for the lungs.

Dutifully, Abeni agrees to your request and you're so relieved you could cry. Your eyes remain dry, however. You'll cry tears of relief when you no longer have to deal with this pesky bond.

"Be careful," you call when Abeni finally leaves your home, dark feathers blending into the mists of your tribe's territory. Abeni will find him and everything will be okay, you hug yourself. Everything will be okay.

01 d 14 h 0866 m 13 s.

01 d 12 h 0746 m 09 s.

01 d 09 h 0566 m 03 s.

Sleep doesn't come easily for you, coming and going in anxious waves as you wait for Abeni to return. You dream of a memory long since passed, a time when your mother was still alive and you'd yet begin your training.

"Mama, is my timer broken?" You asked your mother many years ago, looking at the ungodly amount of time ticking away on your skin.

A melancholic smile spread across her lips as she grabbed your hands tenderly. "No, my love," she told you kindly. "It just means that… they're far, far away."

"But why?"

"Only the Lord of the Night knows," she told you dreamily, giving your nose a kiss. "The timer is a promise. One day at the promised time, you're going to meet that person. You simply have to wait until then."

You hummed thoughtfully, unimpressed when your mother squeezed your arm unexpectedly. "Mama?"

Your mother's brow was furrowed, deeply and her smile was gone."Sweetie, sometimes it's okay to break a promise."

That was the last time you talked to your mother about your soulmate, never understanding until it was far too late what she meant. What would she do if she were here now? Why hadn't she lived long enough to tell you what she'd seen upon her scrying into your connection? Maybe she'd failed herself at trying to disconnect it, hoping that one day you would succeed where she couldn't.

A knock pulls you from your thoughts and you pinch your nose. "Coming!" You brush away the wrinkles forming in your clothes.

"Hurry up!" You can't help a smile, shaking your head in exasperation at Citlali's hissing. "That girl is around here somewhere, I can sense it!" Your fellow elder has a person to avoid of her own. You ought to take your time, but after quickly brushing away the wrinkles of your clothes, you rise to let your fellow elder in.

Once upon a time you were both beings fitting of looking in your early 20s.

200 years have since passed; 200 years and soon the hour of your fate rears its ugly head. You shake the thoughts away as you open your door, nearly toppled over as Citlali rushes inside. "The number one guide in Natlan in the Tezcatepetonco Range again," you ask unnecessarily.

"She comes again and again like clockwork!" The purple-haired woman glares at your door as if the energetic guide will come barging in without warning. "She's only taking a handful of tourists on a trip around the country, not on quests with perils beyond mortal imagination! And yet there she'll come again and again asking for fortune after fortune like she is." Citlali sighs, tired, before giving you an accusatory look. "That girl never pesters you like this."

That may be because the last time she encountered you, you had simply insisted that Granny Itztli would be a much better priestess for such insights. "Unlike you, I know how to pretend I'm not actually home," you say instead as Citlali sits at your dinner table with a heavy thud. "But be my guest. We can pretend we're apprentices again, searching through forbidden scrolls."

I wish I hadn't.

Perhaps then your current dilemma could have been avoided. Yet here you were, 200 and some odd years later after touching arts you likely should have avoided.

"That was years ago," Citlali yawns. "I'd rather-" she pauses, noticing the tapestry on your table and your heart lurches. You had meant to tuck the thing away into the darkest depths of your belongings. "Who is this," Citlali grabs the result of your clairvoyance before you can say anything else. "I don't recognize him."

"You wouldn't," it's your turn to sigh, sitting across the table from your oldest friend. "He's an outlander."

Your friend hums thoughtfully, "is this about that outlander everyone's been talking about? He's apparently been going around completing Warrior Challenges with high remarks. He's certainly ambitious."

You hadn't heard of this outlander at all. All the same, the mystery outlander is an excellent topic to divert to, nodding with expert deceit. "I was curious about what he looked like."

Citlali sets the tapestry aside, disinterest filling her gaze. "Mualani would come around right when I was planning on going to Stadium." You chuckle lightly knowing Citlali's bark is worse than her bite. "I wanted to get ingredients to make Ororon's birthday cake, it's right around the corner you know."

You barely are able to hide your surprise. You nearly forgot your own grandson's birthday. With everything going on it slipped my mind, you pinch yourself under the table. Even with your personal crisis going on, you wouldn't allow yourself to forego the found family you forged for yourself in recent years.

You glance at your timer while Citlali rambles on ー only ten minutes have passed. You're weary but even you know it is impossible for you to take that long to get to the Chuwen Fair and back. There will be more than enough time to continue your stakeout once you've returned. "I'll get them for you," you say at last, back on your feet again. You might as well distract yourself with a bit of shopping. "It shouldn't take me too long and unlike you, I'm good at shooing away persistent clients." The Stadium is practically a hop, skip and a jump away from your territory.

Citlali sticks her tongue at you in response to your teasing. You ignore it expertly with a grin of your own. "If I'm not back before Abeni gets home tell her where I've gone."

Grabbing a basket, you leave your home quickly. The faster you arrive at the Stadium, the faster you can return home. Your wrist tingles, but you ignore the feeling. You'll start panicking when it's the day of your meeting. At that thought, you remind yourself quickly that that meeting wouldn't be happening. Abeni will return home swiftly and you'll be able to coordinate your plan to avoid the man in the tapestry for good.

Perhaps you'll even try another separating ritual when you return and Citlali's left your space.

The start of your outing is smooth and familiar. Even the short quest to the Stadium is filled with qucusaurs and halberd-crest birds in flight, meditating iktomisaurs and the sight of phlogiston painted mountains. A calming sight even at your most unsettled. You've never once left the country of your birth but somehow you never tire of it.

Chuwen Fair is mixed with locals and outlanders alike, but even so you soothe your heart. That person isn't here, you remind yourself. It's not the time for it.

"Granny Sarabi, how are you!?"

"We've got discounts on some fresh sunsettias!"

All is well until you feel the distinct sensation of the tingle your wrist turning into a burn. Shifting your basket from one hand to the other, you look at it wearily.

00 d 00 h 023 m 02 s.

Your basket drops from your hand, contents collapsing onto the ground. Disregarding the vendor's concerned calls, you turn to run back to your home in the Masters' territory. Nightsoul's Blessing burning through your veins, watching in wide-eyed horror as the timer ticked away and faster. What's happening?! Abeni!

23 minutes.

15 minutes.

10 minutes.

5 minutes.

The seconds pass faster than you're able to count them. Where was Abeni? None of the saurians you passed resembled your blue-feathered companion on your hurried journey home. Was she hurt? Was it him?

Your mind searches through every possible scenario as to what could have happened to your friend. Saurian traffickers? Were the whispered rumors of Fatui agents stealing saurians to harvest their phlogiston true? Neither of those explanations accounted for your timer's sudden decrease in the hours between the promised meeting you wish to break. Your heart feels ready to fall out your chest, lungs burning with every breath you take as Nightsoul exhausts and you stumble into a walk.

Laughter rings through the air, masculine and feminine voices intertwined.

No.

No.

In front of your door, Mualani is talking fervently with someone you don't shouldn't recognize with a wide smile and hands moving passionately. You shouldn't. Yet you do, the shade of his hair the exact as the thread used in your spiritloom. The someone you never wanted to meet. Despite his back facing you, the stranger turns first hearing your footsteps.

Ocean-blue looks at you; your blood freezes.

The timer strikes zero.

"Granny Sarabi!" Mualani waves excitedly after catching your eye. "This is one of the cool elders I was telling you about," she tells the stranger quickly. "You're going to love her, she's so funny! Oh, but 'Sarabi' isn't her real name, it's just a nick…" The Meztli guide trails off, looking back and forth between matching expressions of shock. It isn't until the redheaded stranger raises a hand that Mualani covers her mouth in surprised glee. "Oh my gods!"

The hyperactive young woman is quick to react before anyone else, turning to bang on your door in her excitement. "Granny Citlali, come on I know you're in there! We need to go! Gran met her soulmate!"

Citlali doesn't even attempt to make any excuse justifying why she'd been hiding away in your home. "What?!" Sure enough, she found the guide's words to be the truth. Recognition shines on her face, it hadn't been too long ago when she'd seen it for the first time herself.

Not this, anything but this, you're unsure who you are praying to. Was your tribe's Wayob listening? Where is she? Where's Abeni? Your eyes dart around for any sign of the iktomisaurus but there are none.

Pushing Citlali towards your tribe's settlement, Mualani winks at you as they scurry off. Your blood is roaring, heart drumming loudly in your ears.

The man before you is the first to break the silence.

"You're certainly the youngest looking grandmother I've ever seen," at your stupefied expression, he adds a quick apology in between chuckles. "Sorry, my mother always told me not to bring up a lady's age. I wasn't expecting us to meet like this," the man steps forward and you suddenly feel awake again, taking a step back.

Finally you find your voice. "Where's Abeni," you shoulders tense, waiting for the stranger's answer.

He blinks, surprised, before a smile spreads across his face. "Is that that bat-like dragon from before? So it's yours! Sorry, I haven't really memorized all the names of the different saurians ye-"

Your brow furrows and your eyes narrow. "Where is she," you snap.

"She's fine, she's fine," the man raises his arms, blinking in surprise at your outburst. "I saw your Abeni creeping around my camp not too long ago and decided to follow her. She noticed me at some point and changed directions." And in spite of that, the stranger still continued on her previous trail until finally he found your home deep in the heart of Natlan. "It changed," he raises his wrist, proudly displaying a timer that matches your own.

You hear a familiar hoot and a light thud behind you. Abeni is fine, unscathed, yet her eyes shine wide with guilt. I'm sorry, I'm so sorry. I thought he would follow elsewhere!

"See," the stranger prompts as if to prove his point. "Perfectly fine!"

He's smiling, dead-eyed expression as warm as one such as himself can make it. Mania. It's the same as the mast attached to your spirit. You can hear its whispers, the tendrils wrapping over your very being. Mine, it clutches you covetously. "I'm not normally one for believing in fate but… I took it as a sign that apparently it wanted us to meet sooner than later. Let's start again."

The outlander holds your hands in his own. "I'm Ajax," the bright-haired man introduces himself. His expression is soft as if gazing at a dream. "And I'm yours. I hope you weren't waiting for me long. Can you tell me your name?"

Extra

The title is Swahili for 'Unraveling (Rejoice, Rejoice)

'Abeni' is a Yoruba name that means 'a girl prayed for', I thought it would be fitting for a iktomisaurus companion

'Sarabi' is a Swahili name that means 'mirage'. You might have heard it in The Lion King. I've always been fond of the name so similar to how Citlali is 'Granny Obsidian', the reader here is 'Granny Mirage'

I honestly might make a sequel this was really fun to write

[horsefigureoftheday]

Why are (sub)urban Americans like this

[charlietheepicwriter7]

Some Business Bozo puts a hit out on Vlad. It's one of Vlad's earliest victims, back before he knew how to properly cover his tracks but there were so few metas no one knew exactly what the hell happened. BB had his entire fortune and company stolen and has spent the rest of his life building up enough fortune to hire the best assassin to murder this bastard.

Enter Slade Wilson.

Slade has recently accepted the job to kill Vlad Masters. During preliminary research, Slade discovers Daniel Masters, formerly Fenton, the godchild Vlad adopted after his family died in an accident. The godchild who despises Masters for murdering his friends and family. The godchild who is willing to sell Masters out in a heartbeat if it means being free.

The Terminator and the Ghost Boy strike a deal. Slade even grows fond of the little maniac.

[spoilers-ahead]

okay!! now that it’s not 2am for me, i’m going to post my selkie!jason todd hc’s straight up au apparently! 

(uh. this was supposed to just be a list of hc’s but i got slightly,,,, carried away)

his selkie skin looks like an oversized red hoodie in his human form, and is just warm enough to help him survive new england winters.

when the summer heat becomes unbearable, he slings the hoodie around his waist

alternatively, he just coasts it out underwater. perks of living in a coastal city!

willis todd was a selkie. he used to tell jason stories of what it was like to swim through the big, wide ocean. of how freeing it felt. how different it is, from the smoggy, heavy air of gotham --- different, but both theirs, in their own right.

but to be honest, jason doesn’t remember much about the stories he was told, or really, anything about willis --- he had been in and out of blackgate for most of jason’s life, working for two-face to try and make ends meet, before dying. 

what jason mostly remembers, are the warnings. don’t let anybody know you’re a selkie. don’t let anybody find your skin. they will find it, and they will use it to control you. even decades later, jason would still remember those warnings. 

catherine is the one who teaches him how to swim, who helps him trial-and-error his way into putting his skin on, and learn how to make the transition seamless. 

after she dies, jason spends three months as a seal, to just... exist. forget.   

although jason technically lives on the streets, whenever he can;t find food, whenever he can’t find somewhere warm to sleep, whenever just being human becomes too unbearable, he spends the night as a seal. he ends up spending more time in the ocean, than on land.

that’s not to say he’s very good at being a seal --- he barely knows how to swim, has to learn how to fish the hard way. 

when bruce finds jason stealing his car tires, he marvels over how nice jason’s hoodie is, soft and fluffy even after all of jason’s time on the streets, especially given the condition jason is in, ribs showing from malnutrition, and the worn and raggedy shape of the rest of his stuff.

jason is skittish when he goes to live in the manor, even after a few weeks. he always adopts an expression particularly similar to a cornered wild animal around alfred in particular, alfred, who keeps on trying to take his hoodie away, purportedly to wash it.

alfred eventually gives up on trying to force jason to wash it --- he figures that as jason becomes more comfortable living at the manor, he’ll wind up telling them why he’s so protective over that hoodie, and they can work something out then. 

whenever wayne manor overwhelms jason with how big and how decadently expensive all the decor is, jason runs away, run to the ocean. 

jason doesn’t actually end up telling alfred and bruce that he’s a selkie --- bruce just has a ridiculous amount of motion alarms, which are triggered every time jason ran off. he had followed jason the third night, and saw him transform. 

bruce doesn’t tell jason that he knows, assuming that jason kept this a secret because he didn’t fully trust either of them. he would later learn that he was right in this assumption (a rare win for bruce in terms of emotional awareness)

except jason doesn’t fully trust either of them, even after a few months. bruce impulsively decides to do a few things --- a) tell jason about batman and robin and his crime-fighting secret identity, and b) tell jason he already knows about him being a selkie. 

jason is absolutely bamboozled by the fact that bruce knows, and yet hasn’t tried to take his hoodie to control him, or to stop him from playing in the ocean for a few hours. 

in fact, (under alfred’s encouragement) bruce offers to take him to the ocean during the day, so he can get “a proper night’s rest that a growing young boy such as himself would need”

jason remembers what his father told him, to never trust anyone, never let his guard down. but bruce has known about jason being a selkie for so long, and he didn’t take his hoodie or try anything. of course he can trust bruce. 

and when he tries on the robin costume for the first time, it fits perfectly. just like his hoodie, his second skin. it fits just like magic. 

oh, it’s a little loose in some places, the legacy of dick fucking grayson a little heavy sometimes, but he’ll grow into it. he’ll make himself, if he has to. 

also, jason finds the fact that even though he’s a friggin’ selkie, his callsign is a bird (a robin, no less) incredibly ironic and funny 

being a selkie is actually so useful for vigilantehood. the amount of people who talk freely, openly, and loudly about their drug smuggling plans near the ports is quite frankly, ridiculous.

honestly, towards the end of his robin years, jason remains genuinely surprised nobody catches on to him or his tactics yet. bruce is very proud.  

even though jason is safe, has been safe for three years, and trusts bruce with his life, his skin, and everything, old habits are hard to break. so he has his hoodie on when he goes to find sheila. 

and anyways, he wants to see if sheila is a selkie too. he’s taking biology right now, and they’re learning about punnett squares. jason’s never met another selkie before, other than willis who he barely remembers. there’s a possibility that sheila knows something, anything, so he has to try. 

sheila gets a glint in her eyes when jason mentions that he’s a selkie, tells him that while she’s not one herself, she’s familiar with the myth. she has long suspected that willis was a selkie, she tells him, and she’s glad to have confirmation. 

jason positively vibrates with excitement, can’t wait to ask, to pester his mother (mother!) with questions upon questions until. 

until. 

sheila doesn’t do anything after she gives him to the joker. she just smokes and smokes. and she doesn’t tell the joker about his hoodie, despite how it would have been much easier for the joker to destroy him that way. much more painful too.  

small mercies, he supposes, in between hacking coughs that brings blood bubbling up his lips. 

after he dies, his hoodie is ripped and in tatters from the crowbar, with burns along the edges from the bomb. bruce has to carefully peel it off his body. 

when jason was alive, his magic kept the hoodie in perfect condition, always. even when the rest of him was covered head-to-toe in mud, or dripping sludge from the nasty gotham sewers. 

bruce stares at the same hoodie, blood-soaked and mangled, so incredibly dissonant from how he remembered it on jason, when he was bright, whole, and alive. 

he can’t stand it. the hoodie that was so precious to jason, that was jason, at the core of him, in this state. dirty and ripped and devoid of the magic jason had exuded. 

in a moment of desperation, late at night, bruce asks alfred to teach him how to sew. he doesn’t dare to practice on jason’s beloved hoodie --- instead, he starts with the suits in his closet, grabbing the first one he sees, regardless of price. rips a hole and sews it back together over and over until he perfects his technique. 

and then he washes the fabric gently, using baby fabric cleanser and scrubbing for hours upon hours until the last traces of the deep-set brown stain from jason’s blood washes down the drain.

he painstakingly sews the scraps of fabric back together with a red thread, carefully sourced to match the hoodie to try and make it flow seamlessly like it used to. 

it doesn’t work, not exactly. despite his best efforts, the creases bruce had carefully sewn together are prominent and thick like scars, littering the  soft fabric.

so he gives up. he hangs it over the grandfather clock entrance to the cave in his study. brings it with him every time he visits jason’s grave, because he doesn’t ever want to keep jason’s hoodie away from him, but he also can’t bear for it to get ruined. 

dick visits him. a rare occurrence, these days. 

dick yells at him, as he is wont to do. 

these days, it feels like they spend more time angry at each other than not. dick says that this isn’t right. isn’t fair to anybody, not to alfred, not to himself, definitely not to jason. he rants, jason deserves to be remembered as he was in life, not frozen in death. 

perhaps he is right. bruce is not unaware of the state of violent, cutting stasis he is in, this putrefaction of his life. and he is certainly not unaware of how it is affecting the people around him. dick. alfred. the neighbor’s kid, the one who wants to be robin.   

bruce tries. not for himself, but for tim. for alfred, for dick. even for stephanie brown, who sometimes, when she smirks just right, or says something with just the right twang, he swears he can see jason in her. 

he still can’t bear to put the hoodie away, because jason deserved better than to be forgotten, so he folds it gently and places it in his closet instead. 

he also can’t bear to look at it for very long, so he forces himself to every single day. 

it’s different from the glass case that houses robin’s tattered suit in the cave --- that, is a reminder of how he failed robin. this, this is salt in a constant, stabbing, festering would, reminding him of how he failed his son. 

it was stephanie, that eventually helped him figure out what to do with the hoodie. when she was young, young enough to cry at ripped pants and skinned knees, young enough that her mother hadn’t touched the drugs yet, her mother would dry up her tears, give her a hug and a kiss on the forehead, before patching her pants up. 

what not many people know, is that before crystal brown set her mind on becoming a nurse, she wanted to be an artist, first. and so she grabs her old set of embroidery needles, and stitched little designs. dogs and cats. stars and planets. tools and gadgets. 

bruce doesn’t react, doesn’t even move, even as stephanie finishes her story. she hangs there awkwardly for a second, stares up at jason’s suit, waiting for him to respond, before shuffling towards the exit of the cave. 

thank you, spoiler, bruce manages to croak out. 

ah, yeah, she says, shrugging lightly while slouching in on herself, any time, boss. she walks out, and bruce watches her go from the reflection on the darkened computer. 

that night, he takes out jason’s hoodie, smooths it out, grabs his threads, and stitches. 

he stitches on constellations, argo navis, for jason’s namesake in the greek myths he had loved so much. a tiny seal, playing with beach balls. little books, with quotes on the sides. a robin, big and bold. 

he tries to make it as true to jason as possible, not just in death and in bruce’s memories, but as he was in life.

jason wakes up abruptly.  

he wakes up in a coffin, cold, alone, and with a gaping hole in his chest. getting dipped in the lazarus pit only made it worse, only made him all the more aware of what he was missing, all the more conscious of it. 

he doesn’t bother trying to learn how to swim with two arms and two legs, instead of two fins and a tail. it doesn’t feel the same. it only reminds him of what he’s lost. 

sometimes, on sleepless nights that happen more often than not, he wonders what would have happened if he still had a hoodie, still could swim. 

if he still was robin. 

and he doesn’t have access to the cave anymore, or to the titan’s tower, or the watchtower, and his memory of the past is still patchy and shitty in some places. 

so in a burst of impulsivity fueled by the person he no longer is, he prints out photos of robin’s costume from the internet and recreates it on his own. 

if his skin is gone, then fine. fine! he’s perfectly perfunctorily aware that nothing about this resurrection of his is natural. if he doesn’t think too much about it, he’ll be alright. his hoodie, his skin, that was something he was born with, a birthright that died with him. 

but robin, robin was something that he helped shape. robin was something that he worked for, changed himself for. 

and the makeshift robin suit --- it doesn’t fit him, not anymore. no, it feels wrong, like a child playing with their parent’s suit. or --- he realizes, perhaps more accurately, like an adult realizing they no longer fit in their favorite clothes. 

and --- and --- what was the point of it all? what was the point, of trying to make bruce proud of him, of getting dick’s approval, of trying to futilely save people over and over again from the same gallery of supervillains who keep on escaping from prison?!

and what was the point of carving out a space for himself if the joker was just going to beat him out of it, and if tim drake was going to insert himself in the hole he left behind?

and then the next thing he knows he’s in titan’s tower hitting tim drake over and over again because who let him? who let him take jason’s role as a son, as a brother, as a hero? how dare he?

but when he’s slit tim’s throat and torn the ‘R’ off his chest, jason doesn’t feel any better. the robin suit still doesn’t fit. his hoodie’s still gone. 

he’s starting to think it never will, not again. 

sometimes, when he gets tired enough to let his mind wander, he wonders what happened to his suit. 

he’s pretty sure he died with it, so either the hoodie is with the joker, batman, or... gone entirely. (it’s not like they found willis’ skin after he died. maybe selkie skins just disappear in a cloud of sea foam once they die, or some little mermaid shit like that)

it’s a cold comfort, that nobody can manipulate him now. nobody can control him --- not even batman. 

(bruce had thought about it. when he first had his suspicious regarding who the red hood was, before he knew there was any trace of the son he once had left. he thought about using the hoodie, using jason’s selkie skin to coerce him, at least to stop murdering people, to stop hurting their family.) 

(he would never go that far, in retrospect, or at least, he doesn’t think he could ever. to do that to jason, betray his trust so thoroughly and completely... but it would be a lie to say that he didn’t consider it.)

bruce reflects on this as jason reveals himself, the joker tied up at his feet with a gun pressed to his head, and venom spitting from his son’s mouth.  

but when he lifts the batarang to hit jason’s gun, or wrist, or anything that’ll force him to drop the gun, he realizes that his hands are shaking. 

and when he throws the batarang, he knows a millisecond after he’s let go, that he’s miscalculated the ricochet. 

so when jason escapes that night, bruce knows he’s fucked up. 

jason goes off the maps, completely. bruce doesn’t know where he is, if he’s safe, if he even made it out of the explosion that night. 

it takes weeks. weeks for bruce to track jason down, from meticulously documenting the dropped threads of where the red hood was pulling strings in the gotham underworld behind the scenes, to tracking security cameras with facial recognition. 

once bruce manages find where he’s staying, make sure he’s safe, he knows what he wants to do. and, he knows what he needs to do. 

jason gets a package in the mail, five weeks after his disasterous meeting with batman and the joker. unmarked, unsigned, no return address. 

when jason opens the box gingerly and carefully, he holds on to his skin for the first time in years. and then, and then, and then --- something right slots into place. his fingers brushed gently over the tiny spotted seal he knows he used to look like, the books he remembered ranting to bruce about for hours on end. 

the robin, on the top left, over his heart, big enough to have changed him, yet small enough to not define him. 

it’s not perfect. it doesn’t even fix anything, not entirely. he still fights with bruce most times he sees him, tries to punch dick in the face, steadfastly ignores tim and steph the entire time. 

but it’s something. it’s something, and the next time nightwing, batman, spoiler, and robin fight a gang on the docks, the red hood gives them a helping hand before jumping back into the ocean and swimming away.

fin!

wow this got long

[steddieas-shegoes]

Eddie was acting weird.

Well, he was always a little weird. But this was weirder than usual.

For one thing, he kept sneaking into the bedroom as soon as he got home from work, not even acknowledging that Steve was cooking dinner in the kitchen. He always came up behind him and kissed his shoulder before going to shower. Always. But not for the last couple of weeks.

Then, Steve noticed he would be on the phone with Hopper of all people. It’s not that they didn’t get along, they’d moved well past that, but they didn’t exactly seek each other out for conversations. He waited until Steve was in the shower or already in bed, which rubbed Steve a bit wrong. Eddie never hid shit from him.

But the turning point, the moment that Steve decided he needed to say something, was when Eddie went to dinner with Robin. Alone.

Eddie and Robin were friends. Some would even say close friends. It’s hard not to be when you face what they have together. But they always hung out with Steve.

So when Steve found out they’d been out without him, he confronted Eddie.

“What the hell are you up to?”

Steve was maybe coming off as a bit of an asshole. His hands on his hips like he was ready to discipline a child, his face serious, voice stern. But he had to know what was going on.

Eddie raised an eyebrow, not used to being at this end of Steve’s mom pose. He usually stood behind him with a smirk, arms crossed in front of his chest to emphasize his disappointment and amusement at whatever child had earned it.

“What do you mean?”

Steve rolled his eyes.

“You know what I mean.”

“Do I?”

“Dinner with Robin? Without me?”

“Am I not allowed to be her friend without you?”

Eddie’s voice had turned guarded in a way that it hadn’t been with Steve in years.

Steve paused. Something was wrong. Eddie wouldn’t be acting like this if it wasn’t something big.

But what could he possibly be talking with Robin and Hopper about secretly? Was he in trouble? Were they trying to charge him with something from years ago? Why would he go to Robin about that and not Steve? Why would he have to sneak into the bedroom every evening?

The math wasn’t adding up, but Steve nearly failed math two years in a row so maybe he shouldn’t try to make the calculations.

“Are you in trouble? I can help. We can go somewhere. Hopper doesn’t have to know. Is he helping you? He should, he knows you’re innocent. They can’t even charge you for anything anymore right? There’s like, a statue of limits or something?”

Eddie was staring blankly at him.

It must be worse.

Maybe he was going into Witness Protection and Steve couldn’t come so he was trying to plan how to tell Steve. Oh God, Steve couldn’t let him go with no idea where he would end up or what his name would even be.

“Eds, please. You can’t go. They may not give you a choice, but you could maybe write to me so I can follow you? I’ll change my name too.” Steve felt tears in his eyes, and he hated it. He hated that his reaction to this was panic and crying as if he was the one in trouble and on the run. “Do they know we’re a package deal? And Robin. Robin will have to come. Is that what you talked about at dinner?”

Eddie was still just staring at him.

“Eddie please. Talk to me.”

Eddie shook himself out of his stupor, looking down at the floor and mumbling something Steve couldn’t quite hear.

“What? I can’t hear you.”

“I’m taking you to Disney World.”

That was not a sentence Steve ever thought he would hear. Especially not from Eddie fucking Munson.

His first reaction was to laugh, but when he saw the way Eddie’s face fell, he stopped.

“Um. Okay. You’re serious,” Steve let his thoughts wander as he watched Eddie’s whole body tense the way it did when he was working himself up.

Steve thought about how they had watched the Macy’s Thanksgiving Day Parade last year and saw a float from a new Disney film, he couldn’t remember which one now, but he remembered turning to Eddie and saying, “you know my parents never took me to Disney World? All that money and they spent it all on their exotic vacations and cruises and left me at home.” Eddie had looked at him like he broke his heart before he said “Wayne could never afford it so I never really bothered to ask.”

And it wasn’t that a lot of their friends had been. Growing up, more kids spent time at beach resorts or the lake for summer vacations. Disney was still so new to people, it seemed like a pipe dream for anyone who didn’t have at least a middle class income.

But Steve saw the commercials. He watched the movies. He secretly loved the idea of a whole park dedicated to the childhood happiness and magic he felt when he watched them.

But he never asked his parents, and by the time he thought he could try to go, he was “too old.”

He’d given up on the thought.

Eddie was playing with his rings nervously, still avoiding eye contact with Steve.

“You’re taking me to Disney World?” Steve felt his voice break as the realization washed over him.

Eddie was somehow finding the money to take him to a place he’d secretly wanted to go since he was a kid, even though it was a place he probably didn’t want to go, and he’d wanted to take him so badly he somehow involved Robin and Hopper in the planning process.

God, he loved him so much.

Steve stepped closer to Eddie, hesitantly reaching out to pull his hands apart and lace their fingers together.

Eddie finally looked up at him and Steve couldn’t help leaning in to kiss him softly.

“You’re taking me to Disney World.”

Eddie nodded, a smile slowly spreading across his face.

“How? When? Why does Robin know? Why does Hopper know?”

Eddie chuckled before he placed a kiss on Steve’s forehead.

“Robin knows because she’s been arranging everything. I couldn’t really do it here and work’s been busy so I couldn’t do it there. She offered to help. We’ve been planning it since last Christmas.”

Steve felt himself fall even more in love. Somehow, the love of his life and his platonic soulmate have been planning this incredible trip for him for six months and had only recently given anything away.

“Hopper knows because I did have to make sure I could leave the state. I know my name was cleared, but I just wanted to be certain. Then, he got involved with the planning because he wants to take El and Will this year.”

Steve was gonna start crying, probably any second. He could feel the lump in his throat getting thicker.

“I’ve been saving up anything extra for months. The kids all put in some money to buy your ticket. Mrs. Wheeler let me use Mr. Wheeler’s airline miles to book the flight so it was only about half the cost. Mrs. Henderson gave me her work bonus to put towards the hotel at Dustin’s insistence. Apparently she usually uses it to send him to camp, but he didn’t want to go this year. So. Yeah. Surprise?”

Steve was crying.

Everyone had played a part in this happening, and Eddie was the man behind it all.

Steve threw his arms around Eddie’s neck and jumped to wrap his legs around his waist. He did this all the time, so Eddie only stumbled a little before settling with his hands under Steve’s thighs to hold him up.

“I love you so fucking much,” Steve said against Eddie’s shoulder, tears staining his shirt. “Thank you.”

“I love you, too, sweetheart.”

Eddie placed a kiss on Steve's temple, letting his lips linger for a minute before pulling away.

“So we leave this weekend.”

Steve dropped his legs, immediately panicking about the trip.

“What? What about work? I have so much to do. How long will we be gone? I’m supposed to bring Dustin and Will to a show Sunday. Oh no. I don’t even have a bathing suit. There’s a pool at the hotel right?”

Eddie kissed him, effectively shutting him up, though not quite quelling his panic.

“I’ve already arranged all that. Mike got his license and got permission to drive them. Robin got you off the schedule. There’s a bathing suit in the bag I’ve been packing slowly for weeks.”

“Oh my God, that’s what you’ve been doing. I’ve been standing here waiting for my hello kiss while you secretly pack things for a surprise trip to Disney World. I’m so stupid.”

“Hey. None of that.”

Steve nodded once distractedly. Yeah, yeah, no talking negatively about his own intelligence or whatever they all made him agree to.

“When were you gonna tell me? When we were on the plane?”

“As if you would have arrived at an airport without asking me ten million questions,” Eddie rolled his eyes. “I was gonna tell you tomorrow night at dinner. Will even made this card that had clues inside.”

“Shit, I ruined it.”

“Sweetheart, no. It’s okay. I won’t tell Will. You can still keep the card. It’s a really cool design. He made Disney World look like a D&D game, said you’d probably not get all of it, but thought it was cool. It is, and I think I want him to design a tattoo for me when we get back, but I may have to call the shop in Indy I go to and –”

It was Steve’s turn to cut off his rambling with a kiss.

“I can’t wait to go with you. I can’t believe you would want to.”

“I’d go anywhere with you, you know that.”

“Yeah, I guess I do.”

[jaylaraye47]

don’t ever tell a male SA survivor; “You’re supposed to enjoy it”

don’t ever tell a male SA survivor; "good game/job"

don’t ever tell a male SA survivor; “You’re a boy, you can’t get raped.”

don’t ever tell a male SA survivor; “that doesn’t count.”

don’t ever tell an SA survivor; “What were you wearing?”

don’t ever tell an SA survivor; “Did you close your legs?”

don’t ever tell an SA survivor; “They’re family, they wouldn’t do that.”

don’t ever tell a SA survivor; “I don’t believe you.”

don’t ever tell a SA survivor; “I know them, they wouldn’t do that.”

don’t ever tell a SA survivor; “You’re supposed to enjoy it.”

don’t ever tell a SA survivor; “We’re you leading them on?”

don’t ever tell a SA survivor; “We’re you rude?”

don’t ever tell a SA survivor; “You’re an adult, toughen up.”

don’t ever tell a SA survivor; “it doesn’t count.”

don’t ever tell a SA survivor; “it’s your fault.”

don’t ever tell a DA/GA survivor; “but you don’t act like it.”

don’t ever tell a DA/GA survivor; “But they seem so nice.”

don’t ever tell a DA/GA survivor; “They’d never do that.”

don’t ever tell a DA/GA survivor; “She’s a girl, girl’s don’t abuse.”

don’t ever tell a male DA/GA survivor; “Boys can’t be abused.”

don’t ever tell a DA/GA survivor; “But you have no scars.”

don’t ever tell a DA/GA survivor; “You’re just making things up for attention.”

don’t ever tell a DA/GA survivor; “you should’ve just fought/yelled back.”

don’t ever tell a DA/GA survivor; “It’s your fault.”

don’t ever tell an attempt survivor; “that’s selfish of you.”

don’t ever tell an attempt survivor; “I’ve had it worse/i know someone who has it worse.”

don’t ever tell an attempt survivor; “that doesn’t sound like an attempt.”

don’t ever tell a POC; “you’d be way prettier with lighter skin.”

don’t ever tell a POC; “but you don’t look american?”

don’t ever tell a POC; “you should try skin bleaching.”

don’t ever tell a POC; “oh, are you in a gang or something?”

don’t ever tell a POC; “but your skin is so light, you can’t be colored.”

don’t ever tell a POC; “can you give me the N word pass?”

don’t ever tell a POC; “your hair is distracting”

don’t ever tell a POC; “go back to where you came from.” [whoever says this, i live in your walls]

don’t ever tell an albino; “you’re white, not black.”

don’t ever tell an albino; “so are one of your parent white or something?”

don’t ever tell an albino; “you’d be prettier if you were normal.”

don’t ever tell an albino; “oh has anyone tired talking you limbs or something” [i will hunt whoever says this]

don’t ever tell a child; “you should take care of your siblings.”

don’t ever tell a child; “he hits you/is being rude because he likes you”

don’t ever tell a child; “you have to hug them!”

don’t ever tell a child; “it’s your fault we’re divorcing”

don’t ever tell a child; “you’re too old to be doing this.”

don’t ever tell a child of divorced parents; “it’s your fault”

don’t ever tell a child of divorced parents; “pick a side”

don’t ever tell a child of divorced parents; “did you ever consider that you should’ve stepped in?”

don’t ever tell a child of divorced parents; “well if they never got together in the first place, they wouldn’t have had you”

you never know what a person is going through and don’t you dare shame a person for something they can’t control.

if you say any of these things you’re disgusting and you need to not only get educated but stop being a dick.

keep in mind that i am aware that these prompts don’t apply to everyone of a certain minority. But this is me teaching to simply be kind and pay respect and mind to a person’s experiences, minority, etc. there are multiple prompts that can be added but I will refrain to using those out of respect, and also due to censorship.

[puppetmaster13u]

How I imagine Tim encountering Batman for the first time went

Au is by @phoenixcatch7 and you need to go give them love! Comment on their drabbles, reblog their posts, shower them in affection as they deserve <3