#the leg is so intact by comparison

[flecks-of-stardust]

i don't think i'm going to ever get over how pebbles' can literally cleaves itself in half

[emeriethevalkyriegirl]

A Christmas We'll Never Forget

@acotargiftexchange

Morning giftee. Guess what, it's time for your gift! @moodymelanist I was so happy to be able to provide your gift for you and I hope you enjoy it jut as much as I love writing it. I managed to make it past 1,000 words so YEAH A CHRISTMAS MIRACLE! Anyway, it's finally time. Enjoy your gift.

“I still can’t believe you brought me to that haunted house on Christmas Eve.” Cassian playfully shivered walking alongside his mate.

Nesta and Cassian have been together for almost 3 years now. 3 years of haunted houses and Christmas presents to 3 years of birthdays and anniversaries. Nesta ever wondered if she’d ever get tired of her idiotic yet naïve mate. Yet no matter how many obstacles the two of them encounter, they always seem like crumbs in comparison to their love for one another.

And the day they met, oh Nesta could never forget. She was at a coffee shop getting her 4th cup of coffee for the day when she ran into Cassian pretending to have lost his phone. She still remembered the poor ass pick up line he said to her. It still made her giggle even to this day. From that point, the two of them had a rough start, their relationship getting a tad bit worse when Feyre had decided to hook them up on a date at Cassian’s first haunted house. Turns out combining a buff man with a 1-inch spider equaled a screaming fit disguised as a little girl’s. She still remembered how Emerie and Gwyn, her two best friends, couldn’t stop laughing at the poor brute. Nesta saved her laugh for later, letting Cassian have some of his dignity intact.

But the night was fixed with a little movie night featuring Cassian’s favorite Christmas movie. Elf. Nesta, to this day, still wondered why a Christmas movie was chosen on that Halloween season. But she knew better than to question her mate. Not that he’d ever explain himself to her about any of the silly things he’d do.

Still, it was nothing compared to the 2nd Christmas they had together. Where Cassian had chosen not 1 but 10 holiday hallmark movies to binge watch for him and Nesta. Nesta tried her hardest to hide her cringes at all of the cheesy romance she witnessed that day. Yet, her mate always made up for it by baking her favorite chocolate cake. For granted, it was that same chocolate cake that got her into her mate’s little trap in the first place. If he weren’t so hot, she’d crush him.

And now currently, the two of them had decided for this Christmas, to go to the Winter Court. Cassian mentioned a surprise at the top of a strange hill that they were getting close to. Yet, having to be woken up at 4:30 in the morning almost made Nesta regret her decisions about her chosen mate. But she’d be lying if she said she wasn’t curious. Plus, the topic of the conversation wasn’t so bad either.

“It wasn’t that bad.” Nesta replied to her timid mate, failing to hide a quirky grin. Cassian gave her a hard yet playful glare. “Not that bad?! It was 50ft tall. With 12 legs!”

“It was an inch tall. With 8. And as tiny as your brain.” Nesta slipped out that last comment, quickly covering her mouth to muffle her giggles. Cassian’s gaping jaw did not help to ease the giggles. “What’s so funny? Your mate could’ve died that day.”

“You weren’t my mate back then.”

“It doesn’t matter. I never would’ve been able to do this.” Cassian replies right before hoisting the blonde in his arms bridal style and twirling her around as if they were both spinning tops. Nesta squealed, not caring if the animals heard her. “Cassian! You’re gonna make us fall!” She says as her mate couldn’t care less about slowing down. At least not at the moment.

The two of them laughed in the forest as Cassian finally slowed down but wasn’t fast enough to avoid the branch that made him trip and fall on the snow along with Nesta. “Told you.” Nesta replied as Cassian smirked and allowed his fingers to dance on his mate’s sides. Nesta’s laughter sang in the winter forest, as her mate’s tickle torture came to a halt, replacing it with an unescapable bear hug. “Lemme go.” Nesta giggle as Cassian rolled his eyes and tilted her head up just a bit. “Never~” he whispered before sharing a passionate kiss with the woman he loved so much.

By the time they reached the top of the hill, the two of them were completely out of breath. However, it wasn’t the hike that made them sulk to the ground. More of the undeniable intercourse that rampaged in the forest the two of them had. Let’s just say that the forest had grown whiter in the 7 minutes they had together.

Nesta was allowing Cassian to fix her hair when she asked the question for the umpteenth time today. “So, why are we here again?”

“You’ll see~” Nesta can practically feel Cassian’s smirk behind her. It took everything she had to not roll her eyes. “Well tell me soon. I’m getting sleepy just sitting here.”

“Then I’ll keep waking you up with those little love bites you love so much.” Cassian replied smoothly wrapping his arms around her waist. Nesta didn’t bother to hide her annoyance, yet a smile was permanently placed on her face. Cassian leaned his head to her shoulder, kissing it passionately. “You’re gonna love it. I promise.”

“Sure.” Nesta dragged out, attempting to sound irritated. However, it only came out as a playful demeanor.

The two of them sat on top of the hill, both of them sitting in a comfortable silence; Nesta resting her head on her mate’s shoulder and Cassian bringing one hand behind her back while the other entwined with Nesta’s. After a few moments, Nesta and Cassian were greeted by a wonderful sight. Slowly, the night starry sky had begun to glow, a ray of bright red and pink splashing from the horizon. Its colors flowing beyond the stars and coating the sky in its fabulous warmth. Each of the colors bled the sky, instantly diminishing the stars that barely came close to its brightness. The dark colors of blue and purple had vanished, making way for the brightest star ever to be known. Only then did Nesta realize that she was experiencing a sunrise.

Nesta had seen a sunrise before, even in her youth. Yet at the time, it only felt as if it was the start of a new hard-working day. Yet upon looking up at this one, made her feel more at peace than any other sunrise had ever done. “Kallias said that this was the best place for a sunrise. I had to go through 12 different parts of the forest to find this spot.” Cassian explained, as he looked down towards his mate. Nesta did not turn her gaze away from the view.

Cassian smiled, admiring the twinkle in her eyes. “Everyday, I use to wake up thinking that I would never find a better home than the one I shared with Rhysand and Azriel. And yet you came into my life, and an entire wave of possibilities just flashed before my eyes that day. And no matter what happens, whenever I wake up, whenever I see that beautiful sunrise, I think of them woman who gave it to me. And I wouldn’t have it any other way.” Cassian waited for a response, but Nesta still didn’t say a word. He started to grow concern when a flash of shine sparked her face.

A tear.

Immediately, Cassian turned Nesta’s face to him. “Are you okay? Did you not like it? Should we go back-“ One kiss. It was all it took to shut Cassian’s mouth. One beautiful and long kiss. Nesta wrapped her arms around her mate as Cassian deepened the kiss, wrapping both arms around her waist. The big brute dipped his mate, a low angle where Nesta had almost touched the snow. Her right leg bent at the knee as if it’d save her from falling into the snow.

Only when the sun had stopped rising did the two of them break apart, Nesta’s eyes now shining with fresh tears. Yet she was not in pain. “I love you. I love you so much Cassian.” Those words left her mouth before she could take them back. And she didn’t want to.

Cassian didn’t hesitate to reply, “I love you too, Nesta.” And the two of them shared another deep and passionate kiss.

[youlikefanficdontyousquidward]

So small

RecomLyle x HumanReader

Summary: This you

Gif source

Or Reader becomes obsessed with Lyle through old recordings and is a little disappointment when they meet him.

Corporal Lyle Wainfleet was dead, a fact you had to remind yourself everyday. It'd been one of your duties in preparation before reaching Pandora to go over the archive footage. With the Recombinants almost ready to be paired with their soul drives the lead scientist had though it prudent. More data to better smooth their transition.

You'd sifted through hours of log entries and recorded calls and felt you had a pretty good grasp on the team. Especially important seeing as you'd be their physician going forward. The job wasn't sought after, in fact they'd practically begged you to take it.

You were pretty anxious about meeting the team. Every one of them was a battle hardened soldier and you felt very meek in comparison. Though there was perhaps one soldier you were looking forward to meeting.

It was a secret shame, you held tightly to your chest. Corporal Lyle Wainfleet was the Colonel's right hand man. This was perhaps the reason he came up so often in the footage. Videos of him on na'vi attack sights, behind the Colonel during meetings and your personal favourite, the soul drive talk.

He was cheeky, smart and handsome. You couldn't get enough of his voice. Listening back to clips hundreds of times just to re-hear a joke. God you'd even been taking extra trips down to the lab. All under the guise of checking up on things of course.

He was almost ready now. His toned muscle formed using probing shocks over the journey, giving him his old build. The techs had images pulled up of his profile, fully body images that you definitely didn't spend too long ogling.

They were preparing to redo his tattoos. A technique they'd discovered with the old Avatar program. It did something to help them psychologically adjust, having those parts of themselves intact. It's why they were also shaving his head, best to give them the best start they could.

You admired his new face on the gurney. Four others had already been woken up, all separately. Each person given the full attention of the staff as it was a rather traumatic experience. Your heart already ached for him, this wasn't gonna be pleasant. Prager had had a full on panic attack and Zdog was still quaking.

You sucked in a deep breath and began the program. It took a good while for the drive to finish. You sat tapping your foot, sweating in the hazmat suit. It was for the recoms benefit, best to have their own air fill their lungs at this stage. The lights turned off the apparatus on his head, the screen reading his brain function lighting up.

Your colleague gave you a nod, it was time. The IV's were detached and you readied the final step. A needle containing the compound that'd clear the anesthetic. With a final push the months of anticipation ended.

Lyle woke slowly, his eyes barely able to stay open against the bright light. You shifted into vision to block it, watching his pupils focus on you, dilating slightly. Good response, reflexes were working!

"Lyle Wainfleet? Can you hear me?" You began, there were a few basic protocols to run through. He groaned in response, trying to turn from the bright light your colleague shone in his eyes.

They had begun the physical response tests, seemingly eager to be done with all this. You shot them a look before they pulled back their hand from his ear exasperated. However the damage had been done, Lyle had felt his ear flick.

It was chaos then. You took a few steps back as Lyle shot up. He stumbled around, staring at his hands, his legs, every inch of blue skin visible. In the heightened state his tail began to thrash behind him, causing him more distress as he noted the new limb.

"Lyle. Lyle?" You called after him. Stepping slowing into his vision as he held his tail in a fist. His panicked eyes shot to you, taking in your own guarded stance. You hand your hands raised, edging closer.

He relaxed a little, still breathing heavily as you closed the distance. You put a hand gently on his arm, smiling up at his pale expression.

"You're okay Lyle, it's all okay. Any questions you have I can answer, you'll remember soon." You squeezed his arm gently as you spoke. His breathing settled and he stood up straighter, returning you smile.

Even in this new form it sent butterflies swarming in your stomach.

"Till then please come sit, we have a few more test to run." You ushered him to follow you back to the gurney, glaring at your sheepish colleague.

The tests went by much easier after that. His demeanor settling back to the man you'd met through the screens. You felt a little guilty now, having invaded this man's privacy. Though all the videos were RDA record and he'd been aware of that whilst recording, it still made you uneasy. This new Lyle wouldn't know how much you already knew about him.

You lead him out of the medical wing, giving him an air mask before getting out of the hazmat. You were relieved it'd be tomorrow before you'd be back in it to wake the Colonel. You could feel the sweat drip down your chest, god you needed a shower.

You looked up at Lyle, who in turn was staring down at you. You flushed, you must look a mess. His eyes trailed over your form before something seemed to distract him.

"Where's everyone else?" He asked, his head turning to look down the corridor.

"Oh um, follow me!" You lead him to those who'd already been awoken. You'd felt a little disappointed, having hoped you'd be able to spend a little more time with him. You'd have plenty you reassured yourself, being the teams doctor. Still you wished he'd joke with you, chat like he did with the others in the videos. He'd seemed uninterested in you.

The other Recoms were delighted to see Lyle. Jostling around him to welcome him back. Fike shifted round to clap his shoulder, nudging you with his leg and tail.

"Hey! hey!" Lyle scolded, suddenly scooping you up by the underarms. You flush as you dangle in the air for a second before Lyle sets you down out the way. "Careful of the little doctor." He nodded to you before returning his attention to the others.

"Shoot my bad." Fike sighed, his ears tipping as he glances over to you. You smiled up at him, he'd had a real hard time when he woke. The physical tests went great until he got the spacial ones. The much larger form and tail were gonna take a lot of getting used to.

"Where's the Colonel?" Lyle questioned, looking across the familiar faces. Zdog had her hand on his shoulder. You recognized her from the videos. She seemed to be pretty close to Lyle, the thought twisting in your gut.

She was pretty. No she was gorgeous. Long toned legs, beautiful, strong and her tattoos? Who could compare. You swallowed, hard, Lyle's stern expression turning to you.

"Oh he's still asleep. We're waking him tomorrow, first thing." You added, Lyle's frown still fixed on you. He looked annoyed at you before grumbling and stalking to his locker.

You floundered a little. Looking around at the recoms backs before turning to leave. Your fantasy of being friends fizzling away. It was stupid, these were soldiers. They didn't want a little doctor buddy. They didn't need your friendship. The job ahead of your looking grim now, you went to your own quarters in a slump.

You were called upon the next day. The unit were antsy and wanted to be there when you woke the Colonel. It wasn't against any of the protocols and if you were honest you would like the back up.

They seemed in much higher spirits at least. Though this was only really shared between themselves. You only got a glance from Lyle, who had smiled at least. Maybe just glad you'd allowed them to be here, even shifted the procedure to be earlier than scheduled.

You'd been dreading waking Colonel Quaritch up since you were added to the project. With his background and temperament he was going to be trouble, you just knew it.

Still you went through the protocol, ushering the unit to stand back out of view for the moment. Given the Colonel's background with na'vi, their faces wouldn't be best to wake up to.

You read out his pulse as he came too, eyes twitching open. You leaned over his form as your colleague, brought out his pen light again. You grumbled, he was technically in charge and your boss until you landed. You still would've liked to give Quaritch a moment before shining a light right in his face.

"Your fine, lie still stay calm" You spoke, smiling gently at his shifting form. Hoping your words could make up for the rude awaking.

"Pupillary reflex good" Your colleague spoke. Behind him you spied Lyle approaching quickly, frowning deeply. You wanted to tell him to stay back but he was there too quick.

"Get that out of his face." He grumbled, pulling the other doctor back by his shoulder. Lyle leaned into Quaritch's face.

"Colonel. you hear me? Colonel?" He shook Quaritch's shoulder gently. Suddenly Quaritch swung at him, fist connecting with his cheek.

You flinched back at the sudden movement, watching as Lyle caught himself on the parallel gurney. You backed up again as Quaritch flung himself off the bed, catching himself on the IV poll.

"You need to lie back down Sir!" You yelled, panic tinging your voice. Lyle approached him again, raising his hands to try calm him. Quaritch growled at him before lunging forward, grabbing the over head light and flinging it at him

You shrieked, backing up more as Quaritch grabbed your tray of medical tools and threw it too. The sharp implements flung wildly in the air. You swung your hands up to protect your face from the hail of equipment.

Lyle moved forward past you again. He went to grab Quaritch's shoulder but was pushed off harshly again, Quaritch hissing.

"Sedate him, sedate him!" You called over to your stunned colleague. The man seemed frozen across the room, shifting back further into the corner.

Fike snuck up behind Quaritch to grab him but you saw his ears flick back, hearing his approach. He spun and struck him, sending Fike sprawling against the wall.

Lyle rushed to you now. "Go get out of here" He fretted, hand coming gently to your shoulder. You were still, hesitating, worried you were still needed here.

"You get out of here, go!" He shouted more firmly now, ushering you to the exit with speed. He pushed you more urgently to it before turning back to the team.

You stumbled through the door, calling down the hall for security before turning back to the window.

The team had him now, pinned between them with Lyle grabbing his torso.

"Colonel calm down. Colonel it's me. Corporal Wainfleet!" He shifts around staying in Quaritch's line of sight. Even from your distance you catch the recognition, breathing a sigh of relief when Quaritch's body stills.

A security officer approached, gun drawn. You wave him off, giving him the all clear before re-entering the room. Quaritch stalked over to the mirror to investigate his reflection. You spied your colleague more put together again, itching to escape but caught on the other side of giant bodies.

Lyle glanced back over to you, his hand shot up to stop your approach as he eyed his boss. Lyle's nose is still bleeding from where he was hit, blood trickling down onto his shirt.

When Quaritch moved to your colleague to be examined you approach Lyle.

"Let me take a look at that." You say as you get closer. Lyle looks down to you, hand coming up to his nose. He seems surprised when it comes away bloody but dismisses it.

"It's fine." He waves you off. You sigh, at his dismissal, you should probably check Fike out too.

"Just let me see if its broken." You say firmly. Lyle pauses looking back to you a moment, he hesitates but relents. You expect him to move to the gurney but instead he takes a knee in front of you.

You step closer, to the side of his leg, feeling the heat rise in your cheeks at the proximity. You let your hands touch his face gently, keeping your focus on his nose, rather than his watching eyes. You press lightly on the bridge.

"Ow!" Lyle yelps, you pull your hands away suddenly.

"Oh god I sorry!" You feel your face heat further but he just laughs, grinning at you.

"Just playin' buttercup" He smirks. Your face falls into a scowl that only makes him laugh more.

"You're fine." You grumble. He smiles widely at you before getting back up. Your heart flutters as he taps your shoulder gently before going back over to Quartich.

Fike is okay too, these guys too tough for a little punch to do any harm. He smiles broadly at you before jumping down to rejoin the group. Still Lyle cannot help but watch over his shoulder at you both. Sweet little thing worrying about these big soldiers.

He'd done some digging last night, too anxious to sleep. You were gonna be stationed with them. There own personal doctor, trained to deal with their new biology. He was glad for it, nice to have you stuck with them. He wanted desperately to get to know you better.

He'd really though he was dead when he saw you hovering over him, his own angel. Feeling a little too shell shocked to flirt but there was room to now. He'd really enjoyed your cute little frown at his joke, maybe a little ill timed. Still he had all week to charm you before you landed and he intended to.

[cafeinthemoon]

King - Chapter IX

Chapter 9

Wordcount 3,4k

Title Misguided Behavior

Previous chapters

1 . 2 . 3 . 4 . 5 . 6 . 7 . 8

Symbols ⭕ . ➕ . 🖤

Warnings: Poseidon is his own warning; non explicit sex; mentions of deep waters and fear of drowning

Tagging @cloveradora @the-dumber-scaramouche @mikkies @sl33py-zer0 @nooneknows8976 (If you want to be tagged in any of my stories, just leave a comment on this chapter or send an ask or a message)

N. A. Finally I'm getting the feeling that the story is moving forward! Yay! Here we have a small, yet important revelation about reader's past, and a peculiar confession from Poseidon, to say the least 😅 Then, a place I've waited so long to introduce to you: the Sea Library, which I'm sure would make the Beauty and the Beast's one seem modest in comparison haha And, finally, the appearance of a new, essential part of this drama as our reader tries to prepare herself for war...

Hope you enjoy this one, and sorry for making wait ^^

It was like laying on the beach, at the very point where the sand meets the sea, but having a block of marble to support your back instead.

That didn’t mean there was no comfort around you: the water was warm, and its warmth extended to the floor where you were; however, the heat that came from Poseidon’s body felt deeper. And this sensation only increased when you realized that this time things wouldn’t be like the wedding night: now, his mercy has reached its limit and no freedom to move or to breathe would be conceded to you so soon, for his arms squeezed you and his legs kept yours in place, his mouth over yours, making you unable to speak.

Knowing your own limitations, you didn’t even try.

This must be my punishment for the slap.

You closed your eyes, sensing your sight getting dark as a strange noise filled your ears. You never knew if your husband noticed this but, following what he said about keeping what belonged to him intact, he moved away from you, allowing you to fill your lungs with the hot air of the room right before you passed out.

But that was just the beginning.

Getting off you, he sent all the water back to the bathtub with a movement of his hand. You looked around and noticed that the spots touched by the water didn’t remain wet when the waves ceased and returned to the tank, which included your dress, tossed aside by him; you shouldn’t be surprised for witnessing the absolute control that the Lord of the Seas showed over such a small portion of water, but here you were, with your eyes wide open and a ridiculous gaping mouth.

And, of course, that didn’t go unnoticed by him, who chuckled as he took you in his arms and led you to the tub’s interior.

As he walked to the opposite side of the tub, you sensed his feet walking down the stairs on its bottom, and each stair that they touched, the water raised an inch and your heart skipped a beat. In an unconscious move, your body curled over itself on his lap.

Heavens, what he’s planning to do? Is he going to…

Your discomfort wasn’t enough for Poseidon to stop: when he reached the last stair and entered the deepest parts of the tub, he just kept walking inside the water with the same naturalness one would walk on the land, holding you bridal style.

At the point where the water covered his waist and your legs and back, he stopped and made a sudden move to release you into the water.

Something – perhaps the thing that some called the primitive, survival instinct – screamed inside you and forced a physical reaction: you wrapped your arms around Poseidon’s neck, looking away from the water, staring at the bathing area’s entry over his shoulder. Only when the rational side of your mind took over again you realized the shameful position you were put in: with your legs surrounding his waist, the soaked fabric of your underwear clinging to your skin – soaked with only water, you hoped – you were holding on to your husband so tight that you were sure you would’ve suffocated him if he was a human. In other occasions, you would’ve moved away from him immediately, but that time it would mean your death, so you ignored your hurt pride and stood there, trembling.

And the god’s mockery was the price you paid for your safeness.

– So... you cannot swim, dragonet? – he whispered in your ear, each word vibrating with the idea of the frail, rebel human finally bent down, depending on him; and, with all possible disdain, – Pathetic.

You were fighting to control your breath, your shivers and your voice all at once, trying not to reinforce the ridiculous depiction that was just imputed to you, but that was too much.

– Poseidon-sama… – you heard yourself whisper; however, you bit your tongue one second before it started begging him to not release you.

You felt his right arm tightening around your waist, as his left hand caressed the back of your head.

– Hm, what is it? Do you already regret challenging me in my own domain? Are you ready to retract yourself? – his lips left a brief kiss on your lobe – I am eager to find out how your voice sounds when you apologize...

In face of that provocation, what was left of your anger was shaken inside you, so you made no attempts to hold back your words.

– No… – your nails dug in the skin of his shoulders – You will drown me here before you hear me apologize, my Lord!

He laughed.

– Good to see you still have some fight in you, but are you sure about this? – his lips brushed your ear as he spoke – Even with the choppy, deep waters under you?

You sensed a strange movement in the water and gasped.

– You are a though one, more than I gave you credit for – Poseidon continued with his teasing, not hiding his diversion, until a slight change in his tone was sensed, for something awakened his curiosity – Still, it intrigues me: how can you not be able to swim? You were raised in a land where there is access to the sea. Have you never touched its waters?

Given that things have come to this point, it was useless to try and hide this from him now. You let out a sigh and confessed something that has been just a trivial fact about yourself until the moment you were taken to live in that underwater kingdom, when it became as embarrassing as a sin.

– I was raised away from the beach – you explained – My mother never loved the sea, so she would never allow me to come near it. Only after she passed away, I was able to go to the coast, but I always stood close to the sand. And, every time I’ve traveled with my father, we would always go through the land. Because he followed the instructions of my mother, my feet never touched the floor of a ship.

Somehow, speaking about this took off a weight from your shoulders and prepared you for whatever reaction your husband could have. When his verbal response came at last, it sounded more serious than you expected.

– This is the most personal thing you have ever told me about yourself, little dragonet. However, I cannot accept the idea that you never found your mother’s attitude strange, to say the least. How can it be that you have never questioned her? You, who did not think twice before defying me?

You swallowed. He was right, and you knew it – how could you never think of asking your mother about her reasons to stay away from the ocean? Was it a childhood trauma? A nightmare, a prophecy or something more mundane, like a distaste for the sea breeze? Or maybe you’ve tried to question her once or twice, but she simply avoided the theme and you forgot about it?

It is really strange now that I think about it. It’s like, before I was taken to his domains, the sea didn’t matter to me. There were days when I even forgot it exists.

Your silence before those questions was taken as a confirmation that none of this sat right to you, so he just continued to talk, more to himself than to you.

– Besides, I am not satisfied with the fact that you just told me these things in face of death – he held you tighter against himself – You are already mine, you understand? It is not fair that I must appeal to such ways every time I need an answer from you.

When your eyes started to burn, you shut them tight to avoid the tears... all in vain.

Then just don’t ask anything more from me.

– Fair? But how could there be any justice in this? – you started with a mumble, but your tone raised as your words came out – I was chosen to live here, but the choice was not mine! I never wanted to come to your domains! I never wanted to become yours! I never wanted to have this conversation! I never wanted any of this to happen...

A lump appeared in your throat, and you were unable to keep speaking. Suddenly, you felt tired, and your head just fell forward, leaning on your husband’s shoulder. His only response to that – not that you expected anything different – was silence.

It's like someone who watches a child throwing a tantrum. My anger and any of my other feelings mean nothing to him. Is this how a god should behave with us?

When you spoke again, your voice was an exhausted whisper.

– It is important for me to know… My entire reason to exist... it changed when you intervened in my fate, my Lord... I need to know why…

That time, you had a verbal answer from him. A clear, simple answer, but enough to make you gasp in incredulity.

– You still ask me why, my dragonet? The reason is obvious – Poseidon gave you a soft, long kiss on your hair – I love you.

Now, you couldn’t help but obey the impulse of moving away from him, frowning as you stared into his eyes, trying to find the slightest signs of mockery or insanity – and the scariest part of this is that you found none.

That’s not possible! He can’t be serious!

– I don’t believe you… – you mumbled, the sight of his traits blurry by your tears.

However, the god was impassible, as if convincing you of his honesty wasn’t a priority… and, indeed, it wasn’t.

– It does not matter if you believe it or not. It is true – he promptly replied – I love all the women I have taken as my wives, and you are not an exception. I do not touch people for whom I hold no love. But you… – you felt his hand caressing your cheek, his thumb wiping the tears from your face – Despite the instabilities of your human heart, which often led you to a misguided behavior, I can not help but feel love for you.

You remembered Suriah’s words about his love for the women he brought to his house, as well as his dislike for rebel ones, and the possibility of this being true got you scared: following her logic, Poseidon’s love for you must have grown deep in an impossibly short amount of time.

But, well, even though you asked him to kill you, asked not to be impregnated, suggested that he treated his women with injustice and, finally, physically attacked him, he kept assuring you about his feelings, stating that it didn’t matter if you thought he was lying; besides, he has treated with you mercy in some sense: he agreed with your request and didn’t make you carry a child right in your first time with him; he treated you with gentleness after that; heavens, he even killed a man to protect your integrity.

It just didn’t make sense.

And how arrogant of him to dismiss my feelings as “misguided behavior”. Is this how he expects to win my affection?

– Like I said, I don’t believe you, Poseidon-sama – you slowly turned your face away from him, trying to stay out of his hand’s reach – You only feel desire for me, if most. It is not the same thing as love.

Despite your attempt to avoid it, his hand reached your face again, this time holding your chin and making you look into his eyes.

– To me, one does not exist without the other – was his reply – You may understand this in any way you want, but it does not erase the truth of my words…

That moment, you sensed a slow, uneasiness in the water around you. At the same time, your husband approached his mouth from yours, drowning you in a kiss before you had a chance to react.

And then, he moved away just enough to finish his sentence:

– …Neither the truth of my actions.

The agitation you noticed on the water went from subtle to clear, and as it raised until it covered your legs, still wrapped on his waist, you sensed it becoming warmer, as to follow the stream of emotions of its master: in each movement, each wave that touched your skin were the confirmation of his words and the extension of his feelings and thoughts, reaching for you with the same persistence as his mouth on your lips, your neck and your collar, and as his hands going through your body, freeing you from your underwear, making you ready for him.

And you just let him.

I was so willing to drown myself here and escape from him… what happened, then? If I don’t believe in his love, what am I doing here?

As if guessing your thoughts, his voice was heard again, bringing out those very questions.

– Where has your determination gone, dragonet? – he held your jawline, his lips brushing over yours – Have you finally seen the truth, or are you just tired?

Your face burned with that, but you didn’t deny him an answer.

It’s simple.

– No, my Lord…

I don’t believe in your love, but I do believe in your desire. And, because of this...

– It’s too late for me.

***

You were waking in silence through parts of the castle that looked familiar, both in an architectural and energetic sense, having a servant to accompany you.

Though they only happened one or two hours ago, the events of that morning seemed as distant as if they belonged to a remote past now, as much as that empty, long corridor where everything started seemed to be in another building on the other side of the kingdom – and you only hoped that you’d never find yourself anywhere near it again.

Moments after touching you in the bathtub, Poseidon took you out of the water and carried you to bed, leaving you there to rest, all by yourself, as he went to a small office he maintained inside those chambers without giving any explanations about what he intended to do or when he would return, and you, who just wanted to reach the castle’s Library before that day ended, were forced to wait until your husband decided to come back to the bed area and finally give you permission to leave the room, which didn’t happen until a long time.

While you waited, hidden inside the sheets, in the middle of that enormous bed, you recalled the things that happened between you since your arrival.

How could he be so sure that his actions were guided by love when all of them showed no regard for your individuality, your nature and your choices, that is, the least expected from a respectful, reasonable love? Heavens, you were taken away from your home, your family and the life you knew to be confined in the depths of the sea, among dozens of other women who were there only to serve one individual, a man who you’ve never met before and who expected compliance and docility from you above all things! What kind of love was that? Were all the other gods just like this?

Maybe the selkie, Melian, was right. This isn’t an appropriate place for humans to live. We’ve been distant from the gods for so long that it’s impossible to live in peace with them now. We don’t even share similar views on love.

Still... you couldn’t continued to say no to him.

At some point, you just let him hold, touch, take you, reaffirming those twisted feelings towards you which he called love, and even started to enjoy it, lured by the fantasy that they were, in fact, the feelings of a loving husband, and now this attitude had your senses and your judgment contaminated, and you saw yourself unable to wash him away; you kept revisiting the events of earlier, the attentions he gave you, his teasing, his caresses, his seductive whispers, and understood that you might have started developing a sort of addiction, so much that, when the next encounter with him happened – because it would happen – you would no longer be able to put up a fight, not even as a formality.

And the scariest part of this is that I’m already missing him. At least my body is. If only he was normal man… I could even say I’m falling in love.

As you walked, you crossed your arms upon your chest, adjusting the shawl as if you were feeling cold.

The servant glanced at you with a worried expression.

– Is everything alright, y/n-san?

You forced a smile on your face.

– Yes. Thank you.

You weren’t sure you convinced the servant of your well being, but were grateful for her to not insist on that conversation: suddenly changing the subject, she indicated a new direction in your path, stating that the Library wasn’t too far now.

– We just have to go to the end of this corridor and walk down a few stairs – she was saying – The Library’s doors are just ahead.

That information revived your moods, and in a minute or two you were standing before the wide, golden doors of the Sea Library. The servant pushed them by the knobs, two spheres with delicate figures of fishes surrounding them that moved like they were swimming in water as a response to the push, and the doors were opened at last.

You were marveled.

On the large hall of white marble that extended before you, imposing shelves of noble wood, with books of all colors and sizes that filled them up to down, occupied the majority of the space, creating hundreds of corridors through which you knew you could get lost if you just walked into them without trying and memorizing the way. The place, you noticed, was formed by at least three floors, connected between themselves by stairs of the same marble of the hall, leading to shelves even larger than those ones near you.

I could spend my entire life here, and there would be still books to read.

The servant’s voice at your right brought you back to reality.

– Do you need me to wait for you here, y/n-san?

You blinked twice. When you turned to the girl, you saw a clever smile on her lips.

– It’s impressive, isn’t it? – she whispered; and, glancing at the shelves, – You don’t know how privileged you are for being allowed to stay here.

Your throat tightened at those words, but you didn’t want to discuss this with her. You had a work to do. Answering her question, you told her that she could go without you, because you intended to stay there for a long time, and she left you right after, wishing you luck in whatever research you were going to start.

Once the doors were closed again and you found yourself alone with the books, you took your first step toward them… and realized you had no idea where to begin.

Stopped before the first shelf and stared at it with something close to fear. You tried to read the titles that were at your eyes’ height, but they were all written in languages you’ve never seen before, some of them seeming impossible to be adopted by a human group; you raised your hand to touch their spines, but stopped before your fingers touched them.

It was when the weight of your mission finally reached you.

Look at the size of this place… Only one year to work on my task would never be enough...

You looked around and, despite sensing your hopes fading, you started to walk through the shelves – and, apparently, this had a soothing effect in your heart, for in a few minutes you found yourself more comfortable than intimidated by those structures.

It’s like traveling through a big city. Scary and fun at the same time.

As well said by the servant, that was an impressive collection, and you wondered how long your husband has taken to gather all of them, if he remembered the first ones or if he has found some of them personally or delegated this task to his servants. You stopped in front of a shelf and sighed: you knew so little about him that all the inner debates you had while coming to the Library were nothing but pathetic.

I’ve been feeling so much for a stranger.

Your mind was making so much noise for nothing. You chuckled and turned away from those books, decided to explore the next shelf…

– A human being using the Tyrant’s Library to gather weapons? Finally, some diversion coming our way.

Chapter 10

[zeondraws]

Do you have any head canons for Roper? ^^

Ollo,

hm hard to say, considering I've been working on figuring out the canon lore above anything else.

I have some silly headcanon but, I can't tell that one because it's gonna be mentioned in the AU I'm making. So sssshhhhh. But I think that headcanon wouldn't be canon or anything in the end.

I find him to be a cool character, but I've also started to like Gibbo, Trots.. Finlay-

OH that reminds me of something else silly, I have a ship between two characters but I can't mention it either, part of the AU as well-

Aaaaaaaaa

More under the cut because I ramble on for a while!

However I do think Roper is probably that posh man who wears very fancy clothing on the mainland since he probably earns a ton. I checked what people in the control room earn, because I felt curious... And it's like between? 44.000 and 84.000 gbp a year (roughly). Dude probably owns a house with a huge garden or something like, what THE-

I earn like, like a fraction of that a year. Imagine earning 44.000 a year, that would be wild for me already. Can't even imagine what you'd do with even more money, I'm a simpleton. Tho I'd probably buy a bus PFFF.

Back on topic, been thinking about what kind of personality Roper has but I don't think I'm so good at figuring this stuff out. Tho I know I talk myself low way too often.

I think others mentioned it too, he probably doesn't show emotions that often and may be more reserved about them. However I do think he'd crack a bunch of jokes if he gets the opportunity. I noticed Archie plays along in the darts tournament even tho his cabin mayyy be somewhere else entirely, like Roper's cabin.

So I wondered if Roper even shows up in the crew lounge at all, or if he rather wants to be alone. Doesn't seem like darts is his thing, maybe something else but not sure. I couldn't identify any handwriting from him on the deck. I think some people once thought they saw one, but I think it must've been another name.

There are additional names on the Christmas Dinner list, that don't appear on the jukebox list. But none look like him.

I also think Roper is either the same age as Innes or younger, I keep noticing how Innes' skin has a large amount of folds in comparison to the others which makes me think he is one of the oldest people working there. But it's really difficult to see Roper's face in certain light conditions. Especially when he's in marine control. Tho, I probably go with what Rennick says and think he must be quite old?

Judging by what I see of Roper in marine control, his only fear seems to be Rennick. He probably has quite a normal and happy life outside of the rig, some family pictures are placed near him. I know these pictures are from the devs, but for some reason I kept thinking that Roper is a bit more chubbier because of said pictures, but he's not so I felt so confused for a while lmao.

The large amount of heads (also arms!) on his mutated body probably indicate he watches over everything, which is quite literally what someone in the control room does. Maybe he is there for the others if they want to talk to him. Either about work or personal things, not sure.

I really think he got the substance on him while the explosion happened (another theory is the shape came out of the ceiling and latched onto him), running up to marine control, either feeling off or not noticing a change at first. Maybe he was drinking tea or smoking for a while, before he felt something was very wrong with him. I can't imagine how painful the transformation must've been, considering some heads and flesh grew around the chair, so he's just stuck there. The wiki says he only has his upper body left, but it needs some editing, since his legs are very much intact.

He doesn't grow any more legs, just additional arms, one or two of them are from Trots. The body parts on him mak me wonder WHEN he mutated. If he has Addair and Trots parts on him then he surely mutated when Caz walks to the lifeboats after chatting with Roy. I know Raffs is also on him, but Raffs mutated quite early. I have to go back to marine control when I have my PC again and check if I can ID any other names on his biomass.

One mystery is Alex, it's not know where or when he died, he has 4 copies on the deck. But he's also stuck on the ceiling next to Roper. I wondered if Alex followed Roper up to marine control and became a victim of his transformation. Tho that's just a theory.

Last but not least is Roper either died by getting mauled by Rennick or burned to death. I do believe mutated crewmates that are immobile get more biomass as time progresses. At least I think that's the shapes strategy to expand further across the rooms.

Maybe that's why the helideck looked ao strange in the end, but this is all me just theorising and we can't be sure if any of this is correct what I say.

Oh boy that was a mouthful.. Didn't think I'd write a wall for this ask XD. I shall head back to bed, feeling quite tired.

Also do you guys want me to mark these asks with swtd hashtags? I usually never, since I don't want to flood the tag with my posts. But also I've been posting a bunch of things without tags, to avoid falling into the numbers game.

I struggled with it like a year ago on Instagram, but I finally snapped out of it after a while. So I just post things without any tags to focus on my research. This problem can easily occur on social media for literally anyone, so it's always good to do a self check every once in a while.

Thank you for coming to my Roper ted talk

May I offer you tiny Roper in these trying times?

[senka-mesecine]

How do you think Barnes would feel about bondage?

---

I mean, so long as he has ten fingers, two arms, two legs and his body wholly able and intact (and heck, even if his body wasn't fully intact anymore) so long as he lives and breathes air he will always prefer holding you still himself instead of having rope or any type of restraint doing his job for him; perhaps simply due to the fact that he can easily keep you entirely pinned just all on his own without any sort of additional aid almost being a source of quiet, smug pride for him. To self-quote if everyone could do it, everyone would. He wouldn't necessarily gloat about it either, but the facts speak for themselves and he lets them speak for themselves; You ain't going nowhere. And that's not even because you're tied down. It's because he ain't letting you. Him. If you're trapped it's due to him alone and don't you forget it. Meaning that I envision Barnes almost enjoys the notion of bondage as a direct comparison to himself, in a sense that he's a greater vice grip than any vice grip you could ever be placed in, because unlike a rope, he is relentless. You can cut a rope. You can technically wiggle free if you try hard enough. A rope could erode over time. It can burn. Termites and rats can eat away at it. A knot can be flawed. A chain can rust. People can break their own wrists to get loose. But, Barnes? Barnes is a mountain. The only way to stop him is to actually go the extreme route and kill him.

See? You ain't locked up.

Nobody's keeping you's in a cage.

Are you in a bundle of ropes or sumn'? No?

So? What's keeping you from busting free? Or running?

Oh, yeah. Right. Him.

He's more amused by the idea of bondage than anything else, almost seeing it as a weak man's way of conducting things or a novelty trifle. A toy. An imitation of strength someone came up with because they didn't have the brawn to do it themselves. They're like those extra wheels on a bicycle in Barnes's eyes --- intended for kids who can't drive yet. He might just as likely see it as a woman's game, not a man's game, entirely up for you to use it on him rather than he using it on you. Try as you may, you'll never have the strength to pin him down so might as well go with the rope but he'll always have the strength to subdue you with ease so he doesn't need that shit; that's his logic. And even if he does have you restraining him, infinitely entertaining part for him is that he can still break free and will break free, thus the reason why the whole concept is so silently giddy for him in the first place. In fact, his apparent sarcasm surrounding the idea goes so far that if he ever did tie you up he might just stand over his handicraft for a good while, look at it while having a smoke and gloatingly say something in the vein of 'You happy now, hmm? Cravin' a cowbell 'round your neck too since you're bein' keen on playin' cattle?' because Barnes can't help but be disdainful, arrogant and cynical of every lifestyle that comes off as decadent to the point it oozes out of his every pore.

You had his arms to restrain you all along. Should've just asked for them.

[msmc-796-official]

Tales From Planetfall #2: 3NK1-D0N7

'sup nerds! Slipshod here - P said I was allowed to tell stories from my past if I put 'em under this tag. might as well share one of my favorite stories from the HORUS days and give y'all a sneak peek into the absolute shitshow that was my past

little bit of context - during my time with HORUS, I went by the callsign Ripcord. the cell I come from is long since defunct, but given the kind of shit we got up to, not entirely sure it's safe to give that name out publicly just yet. let's just say if the phrase "shove that up your shaft and smoke it" means anything to you, you know exactly which cell I'm talking about ;)

one of my buddies from back in the day - username KeepHonking-ImReloading, if they still use it - was a bit of a whiz when it came to masking their mech signature. you all know how the lycan frame works nowadays - it uses a dummy shell to hide its true nature until it actually gets into combat, then sheds that shell and goes full tilt. KH-IR did something that, but with a slightly different method. they liked to physically modify a mech's frame until it actually resembled a completely different mech - sometimes not even one from the same manufacturer

(if memory serves, the most extreme they ever got was modifying a hydra with some illegal greywash extruders until it was damn near a functional balor in its own right. real impressive shit, lemme tell ya, especially as they were able to keep the drone capabilities mostly intact. idiot damn near got blown to hell and back when Union found out, but RA almighty was that a sight to see in combat)

anyways, I wound up in a chatroom with 'em one day and we got to talking. told 'em I was a toku pilot and they got real excited. (one of their first ever modified builds was a toku, apparently.) they asked if I was down to take a dare, and being the hotshot piss-and-vinegar pilot I was back then, I said yes. they pitched me this: take the secondary set of arms off my toku, set my torch configs to look like claws, adjust the legs to be digitigrade, and see how long I could fool an opponent into thinking I was piloting an enkidu

now, if you know anything about HA history, you'll know that legit enkidu frames can only be found over on Hercynia, and even those are only prototypes - an officially licensed HA enkidu frame categorically doesn't exist. however, as their prototype code is what eventually became today's tokugawa, it wasn't all that unreasonable of an idea... and so I said sure, fuck it, let's see what we can do

the mods themselves were easy enough - the secondary arms came off clean, the torch config mods were practically built into the base system already (apparently if you poke around in the right code blocks long enough, you can find the original torch-projection pattern for enkidu claws - who knew?), and a few tweaks was all it took to swap the legs over to digitigrade. I had my "enkidu" all ready to go, now it was time to deploy

myself and a couple of buddies got our chance soon enough - we got word that there was a squad of IPS-N trunk security goons poking their noses where they didn't belong, and one of our fellow cells was under heat. naturally, that shit doesn't fly on HORUS turf, so we headed out there to resolve things

with the way enkidus were originally built, they're meant to override their pilot's minds and drive them murder-crazy. (kinda like a SEHKMET-class NHP, if you wanna use that comparison.) I've always been a pretty aggressive pilot, but that kinda behavior is a bit much, even for me. that being said, most pilots have never seen an enkidu before, and I could use that element of surprise to my advantage. crouch real low like a big cat about to pounce, turn the torch-claws on (and summarily watch these nerds shit themselves, because holy fuck that's an enkidu oh shit-), and then lunge full tilt at the nearest enemy and give 'em hell

the wave of pure adrenaline I got from tearing into that first poor trunk security sucker like a wild animal made me question if there wasn't still some latent enkidu code hidden in my toku after all. never before had I felt more alive, and never have my reactors sang louder than they did that day. pilots today may joke about "going feral", but brother, I was living it. (I wish I still had the after-action recording that I sent over to KH-IR - I'd love to rewatch it now and see just how insane I must have looked inside that cockpit)

needless to say, I lived up to the dare, and I had earned KH-IR's respect for it. I got sent a few new torch config patterns as compensation (one of which - a battleaxe - I still use to this day), and also earned a new nickname on the forums. y'all know me today as 70KU-N4H-W4, but for a few glorious weeks after that incident, I was known on the HORUS forums as 3NK1-D0N7. (fun fact about my username - almost changed it to F4UX-UG4W4 instead after this went down. ultimately decided against it after KH-IR weighed in and said they liked this one better)

anyways, I think that's enough of a wall of text for now. this was fun to write - haven't thought about those days in a long while. who knows, if y'all wanna hear more from me, I might write another one of these someday

take care out there, nerds. until next time ;)

-- Slipshod

[fourseasonsfigs]

Harper's Bazaar Game

I have enough Bazaar figs at this point to fill up more than one fig stand - but I'm still happy to get more. With any luck, I might manage to put together the whole shoot at this rate!

The inspiration for this fig set are these pictures from the official Harper's Bazaar x 山河令 issue:

And since the photos aren't quite enough, here's one of the official videos, featuring our favorite extremely charged weiqi game:

The scene with the crossed arms is at 1.08.

I do feel you need a pic with the full body outfits for fig comparison pics, so let me rustle up another one...

Didn't mind going back to this pic one bit! In fact, the less frequently posted but just as good second pic in this set...

We deserve it! Side note...I do NOT have a fig set of this scene yet, which seems like a grave oversight. That's all. I'm just saying. Please and thank you fig makers!

These two arrived safely in their polystyrene boxes. I have to say at this point, I'm pretty sold on these boxes as a protection mechanism - I've had extremely good look with them. I used to air bubble wrap everything, but these days I don't, which not only dramatically reduces the shipping volume, therefore saving me expensive ship costs, but dramatically increases my will to live when staring down huge boxes of solidly taped shut bubble wrap.

Here's a close up of these figs - please note the Zhehan socks and woven leather shoes combo and Gong Jun's big stompy boots, I love them.

Here's their benches too. The benches are nice and stable, no wobbles here.

And here they are! Look at those FACES. You know how much I love that sideways smile! This is the fig maker that always does the beauty marks on the ears too, which is always a nice touch.

These are just too perfect. I like the poses quite a bit, with Zhehan's hand on the bench and Junjun's on his knee.

Those are some shorter shorts there, gentlemen. I'd say they were at least mid-thigh length.

I ended up gluing them down as they didn't balance at all on the seats. I have learned (the hard way!) that fig stickers only work if the figs are pretty perfectly balanced to begin with.

This is time for my obligatory comment on how much I love Zhehan's hair in this style. Just amazing, my all time favorite.

You can see how the chairs are quite stable here - all four legs on the ground for each one!

I'm so happy these delicate pieces survived shipping intact!

This is a nice shot of Zhehan's curling-up smile.

And we're back around! What cuties. The fig maker did such a nice job with these - the eyes and expressions are just top notch.

I feel like the fig makers have really dialed in the process at this point! We get such good quality and such good detail.

Nice and flat undersides here, so they sit firmly in the chairs - at least once they have a little bit of glue.

Their feet are even posed differently (and cutely!) no replication of body types here.

I'll say once again how much I love Zhehan's hand on the bench. Adorable.

One last shot of them posing in their picture shot - I guess I should have scooted them in a little bit more so their wrists would have crossed!

Our very beautiful fig cards.

Material: Resin

Fig Count: 462

Scene Count: 31 (I already used this little scene before!)

Rating: Our favorite game

[link back to Master Fig Index for more posts]

[thirdrootwriting]

Brother of my Brother (Infinite Crisis - Bad End) pt3

Back to Jason POV. There is some gore, torture, and gun violence in this one.

Part 1. Part 2. Part 3. Part 4.

The thing about Lex Luthor was the man had an insatiable need to stick his fingers into every available pie, the greedy capitalistic little Jack Horner pig. If some serious shit went down, there was an absolute guarantee that Luthor had started that shit, worsened that shit, or offered some incredibly condescending ' help' with that shit that was -in reality- probably just a disguised ploy to fuck with Superman.

(And holy hell, Jason could admit that he personally had raging inferiority issues, both before and after his resurrection, but the way Luthor was with Superman made his relationship with the original Robin AND Robin 3.0  look like the model of mental health by comparison).

All this in mind, if you wanted to know something and didn’t feel like trying your luck snooping around Batman's shit, the next best thing was to hop a city over to the next autocratic billionaire. Armed with that knowledge, and with the street cred of being known as one of Gotham's rouges, it's not hard to growl and posture in front of the right seedy bar-owners, fixers, and middle-men to track down a villain that's been getting cash flow from Luthor.

 People in that sort of game might be hard enough to keep their composure and claim ignorance in front of the Big Bad Bat himself, but are always willing to spill the latest gossip to a guy with a rap-sheet, well-used guns, and blood under his nails. It's how they connect thugs and D-list villains to people Luthor or Talia for use as cannon fodder, and while it's annoying as fuck to be seen as nothing more than a gun for hire, it is useful.

So useful, that only three days after reading that stupid memorial page, the Red Hood's got his gun under the chin of some little mathlete, computer nerd called the Calculator (stupid name), the guy squealing about the Secret Society of Supervillains (stupider name) that Luthor had set up with Talia, who really could do better in terms of company, and that fucking creep Deathstroke.

Three fingers shot off at point blank and one knee crunched to bony, gritty pieces under his boot, and the Red Hood's heard way more than he cares to regarding this little fun-time club of murders, their plans for a world-wide prison break (like Arkham didn't have those regularly on its own), the JLA's nasty little foray into memory alteration (the good guys pulling, morally objectionable, authoritarian shit? Say it ain't so!), and how the Luthor leading them had actually been an alternative universe fake trying to pull some sort of multiverse ending evil scheme.

Fun times all around, and the Red Hood could not give less of a shit about any of it if he tried.

Hood readjusts his weight, putting more of it on his left leg that's bearing down on the Calculator's ruined knee. The man underneath him lets out a whimpering, scream. Hood lets his gun's aim wander slowly down the guy's body, he thinks about pointing it at the fucker's crotch just to see if he'll start crying again but decides to have a bit of class and lets the muzzle rest on the Calculator's other, intact knee instead.

"That'd all be real interesting if I gave a shit about what you were getting up to Noah, but I what I want to know is how things shook out. The world's still standing right? So whose dead now that the dust's settled, and how they'd get there? That's the real question."

Hood taps the gun muzzle twice against Calculator's knee. He won't actually shoot, too much chance of hitting a blood vessel and having the guy go unconscious and useless from blood loss, but he doubts this computer geek knows that.

Way too many villains get into this gig all excited about torture, extortion, and killing with absolutely no defenses on what too do if the tables are reserved. It's always hilarious watching them shit their pants and scramble when they suddenly weren't the meanest thing in the room.

"I-, I-, the Luthor we were working with, the one from Earth-3, he ran so the heroes didn't get him, but he's dead already. He made the mistake of trying to go to ground in Gotham, and the Joker got him. Apparently the fucking clown was pissy he didn't invited to festivities, as if anyone half-way sane is willing to team up with his crazy ass." The Calculator grunts out, eyes wide and desperate as they track the gun that's poised over his one remaining knee.

Ugh, what a fool-ass rookie mistake. You only tried going to ground in Gotham if were unhinged and bloodthirsty enough to be too much of a pain in the ass to attack or you were homegrown on its cursed soil and knew how to avoid the city's resident cast of horrors. Hood's willing to guess any version of Luthor's a dangerous genius, but unless this version liked peeling people's faces off and eating them for a midday snack, he'd undoubtedly instead got eaten alive himself by Gotham's hungry jaws.

A least if the Joker got him, the guy definitely didn’t die a nice, easy death. Jason knows that with a painful certainty.

"Mmh, closer to having something actually useful to say. But hey, you went to ground in Gotham too, huh Noah, and it seems that's working out a bit better for you!"

Hood grinds his left heel down again. His boots are too thick to feel the grit of shattered bone, but he can hear the mess of tendons, viscera, and bone shards underneath the Calculator's latest, warbling scream. The guy pissed his pants right around the time Hood shot off his second finger, and the whole air would likely have the sharp mixed stinks of urine and blood if he removed his helmet.

"Was working out for you, I should say. You must be a local boy, huh?" Hood pauses, till the Calculator's eyes have refocused enough to show he's paying attention to Hood instead of his own pain.

"So, from one Gotham boy to another, how'd it shake out for our Bats? I hear our latest little Robin got out fine, and god only fucking knows that we ain't lucky enough to hope Batman got offed, but how'd birdy number 1 fare?" It's hard to resist the temptation to grind down on the man's shattered bones again, to resist pulling the trigger and making him bleed. Jason can feel himself losing control of the urge to send this piece of trash to hell where he belongs.

"How's Nightwing doing these days?"

"Nightwing and Superboy took down the machine-tower Earth-3 Luthor was using to rewrite the multiverse. I didn't see in person, but I hacked communications, and from Wonder Woman's report Luthor killed Nightwing in rage as reve-"

Hood yanks the aim of the gun up from Noah Kuttler's knee to his skull and blows his fucking brains out close range. The left side of the Calculator's face explodes into a mess of brain tissue and blood.

He gives the body a final kick, then lets himself out of the apartment that piece of trash had set up as a his hideout. It's Gotham, and the few cops not corrupt enough to ignore this are too overworked to give a shit about some villain's death, so no need to waste his time taking out the trash.

Hood slams the door of the run down apartment complex behind him, and stomps out onto the chilly streets. It's not raining, just damp and cold as Gotham usually is in the fall, so there might still be people, but Jason doesn't really give a fuck right now. Between his now-infamous helmet, his more obvious guns, and the wide shoulders he grew into, nobody's gonna mess with him as he prowls the streets.

And if they do, well, actually smashing some drug dealer or rapist shit's head against ground still it cracks like a bloody egg sounds like a good time with the mood he's in.

Hood makes it four blocks, not thinking about where's he going and not lucky enough to pass someone dumb enough to try starting shit with him, before he can even think above the cold, angry, itching boiling beneath his skin.

He needs a plan, he needs to do something, do anything. Jason will boil himself alive in his own itching skin with his rage if he has to just sit on it. He'd planned to kill whoever had murdered Nightwing, figured it would be some hot-shot that got a lucky hit in the chaos of battle, or some too clever for their own good smarmy loser who'd gotten an advantage by holding a little side-kick hostage.

Jason could have worked off his rage on giving them a death that was almost as slow they'd deserved for taking someone like his brother from him and Gotham, and finally proved, that at least in this respect, he was better than Rob-, than Nightwing. He might not be so nice, so naturally talented, so charismatic, but he could have proved himself better in this and given Dick's death the closure a good person like him deserved.

He realizes his loud, angry walk has taken him close to the warehouses of the harbor, the drafty old buildings three times as likely to be housing some sort of illegal goings-on as they are to be housing shipping containers.

His- his- second time heading out as Robin with Nightwing, had been around here.

Jason had jumped into a drug-processing scheme too early, nearly ruined the bust. Nightwing had to swoop in and rescue him - though instead of cracking heads, the annoying prick had just flashed a fake, movie-star smile and sweet-talked the guards and drug processors into letting them walk out.

He'd scolded Jason a bit afterwards, but taken the sting out of it by inviting him along on the real bust later that night. Afterwards he'd shot Robin a much gentler, beaming real smile and told him 'good job'. Then he'd ruined that soft, tingly feeling of pride at being treated like an equal by Nightwing, by prodding and whining until Jason had reluctantly let Dick buy him ice-cream.

Dick had flavor palate of a little kid in regards to sweets, and he'd gotten whipped cream and sprinkles on his. Jason had made fun of him for being 17 and eating like a 7 year old, and-

Jason's nearly twenty now, older than Dick had been when they first met. He's right near the age Dick was when Jason had died, a funny sort of parallelism.

Hey, with the way he's getting on with the family right now, chances are Jason will also miss his brother's funeral. How fuckin' hilarious is that?

He leans his head against one of the warehouse's outer walls and laughs. It comes out monstrous and distorted through his helmet's speakers. His gloved hands can't find purchase on his jacket's shoulders to rip up his own skin and let out some of the anger inside.

Anger and maybe not anger. His face feels wet and he's still laughing a bit. Whatever Jason's feeling it's bad, and he wants it gone. Needs to do something, anything for this feeling to be gone.

He doesn't know what to do though, and the unbearable tide of it swells and suddenly and desperately Jason can't help himself from thinking he wants to be 13 years old again getting painlessly snatched out of the air by Nightwing with a trapeze artist's instincts for a fall about to go wrong. He wants to be 14, half-asleep on a mountain-lodge couch on his first ever family vacation as his brother quietly tells his father Jason's a good kid, with the softest tone he's ever heard Dick aim at Bruce.

He wants to be 15 with this same unbearable angerfeargrief that is drowning him now swelling and calling his brother, his Robin, Bruce's first son, the only person in the world that might understand how he's feeling. The phone won't pick up, and he'd known that, known that the Titans were in space all distant and unreachable, but he'd still called.

Jason had still had a brother to call, and the promise that maybe someday it would connect.

He dials Dick Grayson's current civilian number on numbs fingers.

"The number you are attempting to reach is not in service."

Jason hits redial. He can't say why, the call's not magically gonna go through this time.

"The number you are attempting to reach is not in service."

He redials the number manually, staring hard at the screen to make sure each button press is pulling up the correct number.

"The number you are attempting to reach is not in service."

Once more, repeating the phone number out loud to make sure he's remembering it correctly.

"The number you are attempting to reach is not in service."

"The number you are attempting to reach is not in service."

"The number you are attempting to reach is not in service."

[galactic-johnny]

P-bandai HG Todesritter.

I actually finished this a while ago and took pictures but I didn't feel like posting until now.

This is the only member of the pale rider family I've been able to get my hands on so far, but hopefully in the near future they'll do reprints of others. The pale rider line is sort of infamous for being a mold bandai put not effort into and slapped a bunch of stickers on. The original kit came out 2015 and was one of the first p-bandai kits that was a completely unique mold (although from what I understand its similar to the hg gm sniper ii). They then proceeded to release its variants, which reused a most of the runners but had all new, equally huge sticker sheets.

The HG Todesritter then came out in 2020 with a completely new mold, and proceed to also have a ton of stickers for all of the gold, most of the gold/gray vents, and some of the white, and still used a bunch of polycaps.

At this point I almost refuse to use stickers aside from metallic eye/sensor stickets, so I tried my hand with gundam markers and I'm pretty happy with out it came out, and at least half the gold parts were actually very easy to color in myself. It sounds like I'm complaining but honestly it was worth the effort, the Todesritter is a such a cool combination of federation and neo zeon design.

It also two really fun gimmicks, being the incoms and the subarms for the huge beam sabers, complete with mastergarde beam saber effect parts. The shield looks cool but is all molded in the dark blue, and was the hardest part for me to paint with gundam markers but I was not going to use a sticker that folded 20 different times.

It's also very big, almost as big as the RG Hi-Nu Gundam, and it big enough to toss the normal sized Lfrith around.

The build was fun if you actually enjoy the painting part to some degree like I do, but there were a few flimsy parts, like the front skirts that are connected to the piping that kept coming loose, the wing binders are on a polycap so those fall a lot, and only the left leg fell off a lot for some reason. If you can get through those the articulation is pretty okay but not as good as most of the gwitch kits for comparison.

I didn't play gundam side story missing link or read the manga, but I think the gist is that during the first neo zeon war the Todesritter was built using the cockpit of the original pale rider that got destroyed in the one year war with the HADES system intact, and is piloted by the guy that destroyed the original pale rider, who is also married to its pilot, and she is now dead/dying because of the effects of the HADES system on her. If that's correct feel free to let me know.

It's currently the most effort I've put into a kit, but worth it imo and I don't regret it, I actually want to try the original pale rider now. I first saw it in Gundam Evolution and it was one of my favorite designs, and apparently a lot of people like it because bandai keeps doing reprints and has done all of the variants of it, maybe soon they'll do a master grade version (p-bandai of course :( ).

[lexosaurus]

Was wondering with the holidays coming up if we could get a little sneak peak of the Christmas EWW chptr ? (If you have any of your ideas for it down yet I mean) If it's too spoilery I understand, not trying to pester or anything, just was giving it a re read recently and I'd be lying if I said I'm not super curious (and excited) lol.

Oh ppl are totally allowed to pester me about EWW in fact I encourage it.

Also I'm all good now so ppl are back to being allowed to pester me about my other fics too haha.

X-mas chapter bit below the cut in case people don't want to be spoiled! Keep in mind it's only in its first draft, but I think this is pretty decent and also a good preview of what's to come 👀

****

The door swung open with enough force to plow through the wall. 

Or, that’s what Danny was imagining, at least. But despite the loud bang of the door, the scrambling feet, and overwhelming voices, the door stayed perfectly intact on its hinges.

“Aunt Alicia!” Jazz popped up from the couch. “Welcome!”

“Jazz!” Alicia stepped through the interior, her suitcase in hand. A green coat had been thrown over her overalls and plaid T-shirt, and she shed it as soon as she stepped through the threshold of the door. 

Jazz hugged her. “Good to see you! You haven’t changed a bit!”

It was true. No matter how old Alicia got, she still wouldn’t be remiss without her red mullet and bulldog-like features.

“I can’t say the same about you!” Alicia said, slapping her hand on Jazz’s back. She pulled Jazz away, surveying her up and down with a grin. “Look at you, your hair’s so long now. And have you grown?”

“Not since I was like thirteen!” Jazz laughed. 

Maddie peeked over their shoulders. “I can take your suitcase to the guest room.”

“Nonsense!” Alicia barked. “It hasn’t been that long since I’ve been here. I remember where it is just fine!”

“Don’t worry, Alicia,” Jack said, getting up from the couch. “Go catch up with the kids! I’ll bring your stuff upstairs.”

As usual, Alicia hesitated at Jack’s offer, looking him over as if he were three feet tall and made of fool’s gold.

“Thank you, Jack!” Maddie snatched the suitcase and coat from her sister’s arms and passed them off to Jack who quickly disappeared upstairs. She ushered Alicia into the living room with a, “Come, sit. It was a long flight. Would you like anything to drink? We have both red and white wine somewhere in the cabinets—oh, the white hasn’t been chilled.”

Danny sat rigid on the couch, the cushions suddenly feeling hard underneath him. His brain registered a vague pressure on his thighs, and he glanced down to see his hands gripping his legs. It was still strange to feel only pressure where his brain expected more, and he let his legs go. His arms fell awkwardly to his sides, and then he realized that Alicia was slow to sit down on the armchair, her eyes looking over him like he was some sort of alien at Area 51.

That wasn’t even a far comparison to make. He was the alien at Area 51. Only, instead of being located in the desert, Area 51 was his damn living room.

[robbie-roo]

hey guys whats up I've been working on taxidermy in one of my classes and I thought I'd document the process here!

a fair warning I will be showing images of a dead animal and the pelt of said animal it isn't too gory (at least by my standards) but please proceed with caution if you are sensitive to these topics

my specimen is a female fox squirrel I don't know how she passed away but her pelt will be used in my college's zoological museum as a mount to teach other students about their physiology.

(photos under read more- final warning)

left: me holding the fox squirrel's upper half in my hands for comparison

right: same photo but zoomed out you can see the skinned carcus in the bottom right corner

you'll also notice there are bloody tissues and a bag of snarge behind me (snarge is basically the guts/remains of an animal that's the actual term for it I didn't make it up I promise)

(side note: her head on top is not supposed to be that flat her skull was unfortunately crushed and shattered into quite a few pieces)

so when skinning an animal first you make a ventral cut from the midpoint of the stomach to the genitalia

I am really bad at this part.

I accidentally cut into the muscle lining holding together all the guts and innards this isn't a huge deal as you can just sorta pull them out and set them aside since I didn't need the carcus for future specimen mounting. So that's what I did I took the snarge out and set it aside so I didn't have large intestine sticking to my fingers

the problem that occurs when you do this though is you open up bleeders the body cavity will start to fill with blood as the specimen thaws (they are kept in a freezer until skinning NOT formadahyde or other embalming chemicals) and there's really nothing you can do about it so that's why there are bloody tissues I basically re-stuffed the squirrel with paper towels so I didn't get blood all over the pelt

ok so on to skinning I have done this one other time with my lovely little mouse corn dog (I'll explain)

after you make a cut and DONT fuck up the guts like I did you can start skinning which is honestly way easier on a squirrel than it is on a mouse (who would have thought)

you start with the hind legs and you pull the meat out all the way to the ankle joint and then we cut right at that joint to keep the foot bones intact connected to the skin some people will take these bones out but we don't just to make it easier on us once you have both legs out you pull all the bones out from the tail (you basically deglove it it's kinda cool to look at after) and then you pull the rest of the skin off like a jacket until you get to the arms (follow the same steps as the hind legs) and the head

the head in complicated once you get to this part you have a lot of things to keep in mind- the eyes, ears, nose, and mouth and you must keep as much skin as possible in the eyelids and lips while keeping the ears completly attached

it's very difficult... also TW for gore in the next photo

so corn dog

(jumpscare lol)

Corn dog is a little different thus mouse was prepared the same way as I just described however we mounted her to become a study skin

once she was skinned we made basically a tube of cotton to stuff up in there and sewed her up she looked like a corn dog- hence the name

this post is getting a bit long so I'll break it into two and traumatize you some more later

[ifacotarwasgood]

CHAPTER 7 - page 8/?

original word count: 5525

revised word count: 2742

click for ch 7's full comparison document.

original:

the wall, if you flee, your family will no longer be cared for.” His words were like a stone to the head. If I escaped, if I even tried to run, I might very well doom my family. And even if I dared risk it … even if I succeeded in reaching them, where would I take them? I couldn’t stow my sisters away on a ship—and once we arrived somewhere else, somewhere safe, we’d have nowhere to live. But for him to hold my family’s well-being against me, to throw away their survival if I stepped out of line… I opened my mouth, but his snarl rattled the glasses. “Is that not a fair bargain? And if you flee, then you might not be so lucky with whoever comes to retrieve you next.” His claws slipped back under his knuckles. “The food is not enchanted, or drugged, and it will be your own damn fault if you faint. So you’re going to sit at this table and eat, Feyre. And Lucien will do his best to be polite.” He threw a pointed look in his direction. Lucien shrugged. The invisible bonds loosened, and I winced as I whacked my hands on the underside of the table. The bonds on my legs and middle remained intact. One glance at Tamlin’s smoldering green eyes told me what I wanted to know: his guest or not, I wasn’t going to get up from this table until I’d eaten something. I’d think about the sudden change in my plans to escape later. Now…for now I eyed the silver fork and carefully picked it up. They still watched me—watched my every move, the flare of my nostrils as I sniffed the food on my plate. No

revised:

Tamlin pushed a hand through his golden hair. “I’m only going to say this once. If you cross the wall, my side of the bargain is over. I will no longer take care of your family. If you flee, and someone less kind than me retrieves you, it will be your fault that they suffer. Do you understand?” I fought to nod against the invisible restraints. Pressure held tight against my throat. He repeated, “Do you understand?” I swallowed thickly. “I understand.” “Good. Now, you’re going to eat, and we’re all going to be polite. Right, Lucien?” Lucien shrugged but said nothing. The bonds on my arms loosened, and my hands smacked the underside of the table. The bindings on my legs and torso didn’t let go. One glance at Tamlin told me, guest or not, I wasn’t going to get up until I’d eaten. Stabbing a piece of chicken, I took a bite. It was an effort not to grunt. The meat was tender and savory, salty skin crackling deliciously on my tongue. I ripped off another piece. I’d never had food like this before. I was shoving in mouthfuls of creamy potatoes before I’d even swallowed. A plum so juicy it dribbled down my chin. The wine was sharp and effervescent, bubbles tickling my nose.

[iimexpensiive]

✧ @dxwnxdusk ✧ — A low growl emits from underneath one of the fallen statues. The entire area is a mess, papers scattered along with some bodies that have begun to rot. No doubt bodyguards for the target, bullets and swords alike spread around with splatters of blood everywhere. Given the entire ceiling had come down its a surprise that even a segment of the room is intact. A broken arm, that and his entire body being pinned while trying to not further aggravate the sword through his leg. Pushing against the statue became second place to using enough strength to keep it from fully crushing him. Still given that the target has finally returned and is now gloating, he might just kill himself first before this bastard has the glory. And that train of thought is immediately dismissed when they look to the side. Beyond his field of vision but not his hearing. Seriously? Did he follow him here? Bah. Not like he'll openly admit he's glad if that's the case. Not many can get the drop on him but it has to be something big. Given the size of this brute of a man. He'll say it's fair

"Whew, looks like you all made quite the mess here huh?"

His voice rang out across the devastated and destroyed area, drawing the attention towards his sudden appearance. It wasn't that he didn't trust Dusk to be able to handle his own — it wasn't every day that the Great Sage had someone who was on equal footing to his own power. Even most deities paled in comparison to the might that was the Monkey King. Plus, his beloved shadow had earned his reputation he currently held, there was no doubting what he was capable of.

Still, he had a feeling he might need some assistance when he took a job — having followed closely but not enough to be detected. Even by the six-eared simian. He knew ways around that enchanted hearing after all, ones that no one else would ever figure out.

Like always, his posture was relaxed and loose which was in stark contrast to the tension in the area. Course, anyone who knew what subtle hints and details to look for in his presence knew he was anything but relaxed. An aura of pure anger radiating off him at present even as he scratched his neck with the small medal rod he held in his hands — the act almost making it seem as if he was bored right now. Which only caused foes in question to THINK that they would have an easy time with him. The fools, they were hardly worth the effort...but that didn't mean he wasn't going to show them any mercy.

Which was proven right when the hulking form charged at the masked simian, barely stirring much of a reaction from him. The blow never landing as he held it back with little effort with his metal rod, slowly turning his head up towards their stunned expression. Seems he realized a little too late just how fucked he was right now — that caused an amused chuckle to spill from Wukong in the moment. It would never get old how many underestimated him only to find out the hard way in the end. He was not someone you wanted to trade blows with.

"I can't believe you had trouble with this one darling — "

" — try to hold on a little bit longer, I'll finish this up and we'll go home after to get you patched up."

Turning his attention to Dusk, speaking in such a cheerful manner in stark contrast to the whole scenario before him. Completely ignoring his opponent in the moment. This shouldn't take him too long to finish, the foe before him was pathetically weak — almost felt bad for what he was about to do. Almost. He had hurt his beloved after all SO any sympathy he might've felt was long dead. As would be the other soon enough.

Raising his unoccupied hand to his forehead and flicking, causing him to fly backwards with such speed and force. Crashing through one of the walls and destroying it upon impact. Humming as he casually strolled over to the crumbled over brute, hands crossed behind his back as he did. This definitely wouldn't take too long, than he'd take Dusk home and set to work patching him up.

"Be right with you darling."

[vikingsong]

WIP Wednesday (3/29/23)

Shortly after midday, Merlin stood on the rim of the desolation that had been his lab and breathed a resigned sigh as he surveyed the mess.

“It’ll be like fieldwork,” he told himself, repeating the justification he’d offered Freya. Freya hadn’t been impressed by that comparison; to be honest, neither was he. Still, he was determined to salvage as much as he could. Freya had helpfully pointed out that the fossils had already survived for eons without his protection and could stand to wait in the wreckage until the alien invasion had been dealt with, but Merlin was nothing if not stubborn. He adjusted his mask and rummaged in his messenger bag to fish out a pair of work gloves he’d scrounged from a maintenance closet in RMoSH’s largely intact east wing. Taking a deep breath, he tugged them on, ducked under the lines of yellow caution tape, and began the perilous descent.

He painstakingly picked his way down the side of the crater, climbing over twisted I-beams and fractured remnants of marble flagstones. Whole sections of the above-ground floors—the public exhibits and educational lecture spaces—had collapsed when the west wing had sustained a direct hit. Three, actually. The alien vessels had punched holes all the way into Merlin’s below-ground lab, and the scorched wreckage of the collapsed floors lay strewn across the gaping pit. Broken glass crunched under foot as he reached the lab floor. The wooden legs of the lab tables had burned to ash, leaving behind only the tops, cracked and partially melted. So much for the manufacturer’s heat and impact resistance ratings, he thought sardonically.

In the middle of the lab floor lay the three hulls of the ships. The aliens were long gone, having disappeared into the streets to wreak havoc elsewhere, but scorched spots and claw marks criss-crossed the linoleum tiles. Merlin approached the hulls as though drawn by an invisible thread, the noise of the city fading from his ears with each step. He’d expected something out of a sci-fi film: sleek, seamless metal and gleaming instrument panels. Instead, the hulls reminded him of the meteorites that had been on display in a now-collapsed exhibit upstairs. The rocky surface had a smooth texture as though the outer layer had melted when it hurtled through Earth’s atmosphere, and small regmaglypts littered the shells like cosmic pock-marks. A feeling he couldn’t explain compelled him to reach out and place a hand in one of the larger depressions. A spark of static shocked him as his fingers grazed the rock, and he jerked his hand back.

Nothing happened.

He wasn’t sure what he’d expected, but he’d expected something, and he couldn’t explain the hint of disappointment that curled in his chest. Stepping back, he circled the perimeter, standing on tiptoe to peer inside where the hull appeared to have cracked open like an eggshell. Just as he was about to turn away and begin his clean-up work, a pinprick of light in the corner of his eye drew his attention. He stared, entranced, as strange symbols flickered into view along one section of the hull’s interior. He couldn’t read them, but they reminded him of the runestones he’d seen once while trekking on Mt. Snowdonia. For a few moments, the strange, angular symbols glowed like embers, flaring and ebbing, before fading away entirely, leaving no trace on the rough stone interior.

The strange tug in his chest faded with it, and a wave of sound came rushing back into his ears: the crunch of broken glass as he stepped back abruptly, the whistle of the wind gusting through the gutted window frames on the section of the facade that hadn’t collapsed, the distant wail of an emergency siren. He shivered, then resolutely turned his attention to the task at hand.

“Just like fieldwork,” he murmured again, pulling a plastic collection pouch and a small brush out of his messenger bag, and crouched to examine the scattered bits of rock and metal around his feet.

He picked up a small fragment, turned it delicately in his gloved hand, and brushed some soot from the surface. Nope. He set the disappointing rock aside and picked up the next promising object. Nope. The second disappointment joined the first, and soon he had a proper pile of rejected rubble beside him. He persevered until, as the sun approached the horizon, he picked up a putty-colored fragment and recognized the shape and texture immediately. Giddy with success, he carefully placed it in the clear collection bag.

“Merlin.”

“Not now,” he replied absently, squinting at the fragment in the fading light. Pulling out a marker to label the bag, he muttered as he wrote. “Partial hollow vertebra, fragments of helical struts and—”

“Merlin.”

“What?” he demanded, glancing over his shoulder.

There was no one there.

He craned his neck to scan the rim of the crater. No one there, either. He paused, marker dangling loosely between his fingers. “Hello?” he called. I thought they’d accounted for everyone? He stood abruptly, nearly slipping on the loose grit coating the ground. They’d accounted for staff. The public exhibits had been scheduled to close early because of the gala. But what if—? “Hello? Is someone down here? Are you trapped?”

Only the wind whistling through the gaping window frames answered him.

He tucked the labeled sample bag into his satchel, eyes scanning the wreckage for any signs of life. He twisted the marker between his hands.

Silence.

He sighed. I’d better go find someone and ask, just to be sure. I’d never forgive myself if… He shook his head, tossed the marker into the bag, and began the arduous climb back to the surface.

[journeyofbell]

If you run into neurotypicals like this, I find this comparison useful: if you asked someone who's missing a leg to run a marathon, would you then get mad and tell them: "Wow, you were so slow, you need to run faster" when they don't finish as quickly as the runners with both legs intact?

The face the NTs make when I give them this, it's priceless.

Neurotypicals will be like “I know you have a disability that affects your ability to stay organized, manage your time properly, socialize, or control what you’re able to think about or focus on, but that’s not an excuse to have trouble staying organized, managing your time properly, socializing, or controlling what you need to think about or focus on.” And then demand that they aren’t ableist. I’m tired.