#toasted away

[shit-talker]

Another idea to do with this post I made;

They aren't raised together. The deal between Shiva and David is still intact when they're born, and when Shiva ends up having 3 kids, it presents a perfect opportunity for David Cain to put in a proper experiment with these kids. He takes Cass, raises her as he did in canon, and tells Shiva to raise Tim how she sees fit, and then they give Jason to a struggling couple in Gotham city, just to see if their genetics really do create the perfect child assassins, or if they have to foster the ability into them, and who's better at it.

Tim and Cass end up meeting when they're around 5 or 6, and they end up fighting then, too. It's a pretty even fight, all things considered, but eventually Cass ends up with a knife to Tim's throat, and Tim ends up with two daggers pointed from behind Cass's head and their parents decide to stop things there.

Jason, meanwhile, is being raised just as he was in canon. His dad gets arrested around this time, and he's left alone with his mother, completely clueless to his siblings currently battling it out in a different continent.

David forces Cass to kill when they're 8, and it fucks Cass up. She ends up hunting Tim and Shiva down, and while she still hasn't figured out talking, Tim is able to get that something bad just happened, and they have to go now. So, they run off together and end up in Gotham about 2 years later.

They're 10 when they run into Jason, who immediately gets freaked out because he and Tim look literally identical, but there are a few basic differences, and Cass just looks like them if they were a girl. Jason, newly homeless after his mother's death a few months before, shows Tim and Cass the basics of Gotham, and in exchange, Tim and Cass show Jason how to handle being homeless (and how to fight properly)

Tim and Cass technically can speak English, Tim moreso, but it's definitely not a perfected thing, and Jason becomes a sort of translator for them.

When Jason ends up stealing Batman's tires 2 years later, he runs to get back to Cass and Tim, who are admittedly and annoyingly better at fighting than him. Bruce obviously follows him, and when he stumbles across 3 kids who look a hell of a lot like Lady Shiva, he just has to take them home.

(Other post on this AU)

[luxaofhesperides]

We Are Robins meeting to Signal apprehending Danny ; requested by @zylev-blog!

“Hey, Danny. How are you feeling?”

Danny gives Duke a tired smile, his head falling back against the wall. He’s sitting up today, which is good. It’s definitely an improvement from the many days Danny was unable to do much but lie down and grit his teeth through the pain as Duke checked on the gunshot wound. It’s a good thing Danny’s a meta with a healing factor, or nothing Duke could have done would have saved him.

As it is, the wound was severe enough to keep Danny vulnerable and unable to move on his own without making it worse. Though Duke has looked, he hasn’t had any luck in finding whoever did this to Danny. He hasn’t brought it up to the rest of the We Are Robin gang, but only because Danny only let him help if he kept it between the two of them.

What’s another secret? If it lets him stay close to Danny and make sure he’s healing well, then he’ll keep quiet and carry on the search by himself. He’s got plenty of practice in doing things on his own.

“Busy out there?” Danny asks as Duke sits down next to him, dropping his backpack onto the ground. 

“Yeah, it’s tough with the cops after us, but someone needs to help Gotham and with Batman gone…”

A pained expression crossed Danny’s face. Eyeing him carefully, Duke opened his backpack and pulled out a few protein bars and sports drinks for him. Once Danny takes them and began eating one, Duke takes out the first aid kit, always kept at the bottom of the backpack, and sets it in front of Danny.

The most he can do is offer supplies and company at this stage of Danny’s healing. He gets twitchy and tense when Duke tries to tend to his wound, and seems to have plenty of practice in patching himself up. 

He didn’t answer when Duke commented on it once, so Duke let the matter drop. 

Metas may have legal protection, but that doesn’t stop people from targeting them. Duke has no intention of pushing Danny into remembering unpleasant things while he’s already wounded, hiding out in the upper corner of an abandoned warehouse taken over by a group of homeless people. Most aren’t inside during the day, choosing instead to be out with the rest of the city, which leaves them alone. 

Duke keeps an eye on the ground floor of the warehouse, making sure no one comes in while Danny tends to his wound. When he peeks back, he can see that it’s much smaller than it was the night Duke found him, crawling down an alley with one hand clutching his side, tears slipping down his face. There had been so much blood that Duke was sure he had just stumbled upon someone dying and froze, horrified. 

And then a shout down the road prompted him to move, hauling Danny up and helping him into the warehouse to hide. 

For a normal person, if it didn’t kill them, the wound would still be raw and bleeding, larger than any gunshot wound he’s seen before. But Danny’s wound is closing up quickly, no longer bleeding, the edges a healing pink.

It doesn’t look like it’s going to scar, either. 

“Think it’ll be all healed up by the end of the week?”

Danny glances up, then continues covering it with new bandage, large enough to cover the entire wound. “Hopefully,” he says. “Then I’ll be out of your hair and can figure out a way to get home.”

“Your folks gonna look out for you?”

“Probably. I’m not planning on telling them, though, since they’ll get way too overprotective. The only reason they’re not tearing Gotham apart looking for me is because I came here with my godfather and he told them we’d be gone for two weeks. Can’t believe he tried to kill me on day one…”

“Your godfather tried to kill you?”

“Yeah. Not personally, or anything, but he definitely hired the guy who shot me. Though he also yelled at him for shooting me? Not sure what that’s about, but I never trusted the guy and he didn’t try to help me afterwards when I ran away, so. You know.”

Duke wants to have a conversation with Danny’s godfather. Maybe bring the other Robins along to make sure the message sinks in: Don’t touch Danny.

But Danny, acting so casual about his godfather trying to kill him, would be unhappy about it, and Duke would really rather be able to take care of him than be shut out for trying to take control of the situation.

“Shit, man, that sucks,” he offers, instead of prying for details so he can hunt down his godfather. “You want a hug or something? I can’t really do much else, but if it can make you feel better about all this…”

Danny brightens and shoves the first aid kit away, his shirt (one of Duke’s old ones he offered up to replace the bloodstained one) falling to cover the bandage. “Please. I would love a hug, dude, I don’t remember the last time I felt so lonely.”

Carefully, Duke wraps his arms around Danny, leaning back so Danny could relax fully and not worry about holding himself up. Danny sighs into the hug, going fully limp as he drops his forehead onto Duke’s shoulder.

“Thanks for this. And everything,” Danny says some time later. He doesn’t move to pull away, so Duke stays as he is, watching the weak sunlight slowly move across the warehouse as it spills in from dirty windows. 

“You don’t need to thank me. I mean, I’m a Robin.” He brings up a hand to tap a finger against the R embroidered into his jacket. “It’s what we’re here for.”

.

.

.

It’s been years since he saw Danny. After he was fully healed, Duke helped him get to city limits, watching as he boarded a bus and disappeared down the road, leaving his life just as suddenly as he entered it.

After spending so much time together, quiet hours of stillness just looking out for each other, his life feels emptier without Danny in it. He knew it wouldn’t last, that Danny would go home eventually, but it didn’t make the parting any easier.

Even now, as Signal, taking a break from going on missions with the Outsiders to spend some time with the Bats, his thoughts drift towards Danny, wondering if he’s alright. In his darker moments, he wonders if Danny’s godfather has tried to kill him again, if he’s succeeded. In calmer, happier moments, he remembers Danny’s quiet stories about his family, his town, all his dreams and hopes for the future, remembers the easy company and how Danny didn’t look at him with pity when talked about his parents, just quiet and contemplative. 

Sometimes, he can’t resist the urge to look him up, but there are so many Danny’s out there that he doesn’t know where to start. He never got Danny’s last name or learned when he came from.

It’s not like he can just ask the Bats for help finding a guy he knew for two weeks before he ever joined them. They’re all busy with their own missions, and definitely don’t have time for Duke’s reminiscing. 

“Just caught sight of the truck entering city limits,” Oracle says in his ear. “It’s heading towards the Coventry.”

“On it. Any movement from the mobs?”

“None yet. I expect this to change soon. Red Hood and Black Bat are patrolling nearby if you need backup.”

“Got it. Signal out.”

His comline shuts with a little click, and then he’s grappling over the roof tops, keeping an eye on the roads in search of the truck. He doesn’t have time to think of Danny anymore, not when a shipment of new, experimental weapons is passing through Gotham. Spoiler had heard a few whispers of it and Red Robin helped find more solid details; the mobs are all looking to take the shipment for themselves in an attempt to get the upper hand in the nonstop fight for control of Gotham’s streets. 

It’s passing through during the day, visible and a good move to keep from being ambushed at night, but it’s not enough to stop mobs hoping to take out their competition with new weapons. Duke enters the Coventry just as his comline beeps once and Oracle begins giving him specific directions, along with a brief description of what the truck looks like. 

Apparently, the weapons are being moved in a U-Haul rental truck. That is… certainly a Choice™ to make for moving weapons around the country.

He follows it from the rooftops, but nothing happens. The truck passes through the Coventry without incident and takes a turn that keeps it away from Crime Alley and the Bowery. It gets to the middle of East End then pulls to a stop in the parking lot of a diner. 

Two people get out and stretch, then head in to get something to eat.

It would be the perfect time for someone to break in. Duke pulls the light over himself, manipulating it to make him disappear from sight as he looks down from the edge of the rooftop, tense and prepared for anything.

He almost doesn’t see it at first. It’s just a flicker, a flash of color, a shift in the shadows across the street. But he does see it, even if he can’t find it again, and drops down from the roof, creeping towards the truck.

Duke waits, holding his breath, off to the side of the parking lot. 

A minute passes. And then a figure materializes out of thin air, floating right behind the truck. All Duke can see is white hair and a black body suit; they’re either a meta or an alien, but either way, Duke is ready to take them down.

The figure lifts their hands and a bolt of neon green energy hits the truck, melting the back and leaving a large hole that gives them direct access to the weapons. And then they shoot again, destroying the weapons.

“Phantom!” someone shouts, and the truck driver comes tearing out of the restaurant, a white gun in his hand. His companion follows, her gun also out, and the begin shooting. 

Phantom dodges the blasts, then vanishes from sight. He reappears behind them a moment later, tackling back of them into the side of the truck. 

“No you don’t!” Duke say, rushing forward as he pulls at the shadows around him then sends them racing towards Phantom, restraining them. The driver and his companion collapse onto the ground, groaning weakly, and Duke grits his teeth. “O, send someone to look after the people moving the weapons. Apprehending an attacker now.”

He doesn’t wait to hear a response, tightening the shadow’s grip on Phantom, who struggles fiercely.

“We can do this the hard way, or the easy way,” he says, pulling Phantom closer to him.

Phantom doesn’t answer. They just scream, the force of it making Duke fall back. His shadows dissipate, and Phantom flies up.

“Get back here!”

Duke gives chase, dropping in and out of shadows, throwing some at Phantom in the hopes of catching him again. But Phantom is fast and it takes all he has to keep up as they cross Gotham.

He thought Phantom was flying around blindly, but the way they move across the roofs and then through the streets are too confident, too focused to be anything other than someone with a destination in mind. But where? Where could they be going? If they’ve been in Gotham, then Duke would have heard of them.

A flying, powerful meta with a multitude of powers? Yeah, he would have known about them.

Phantom flies through a wall and Duke curses, going onto the roof and looking around, waiting to see them fly out. But they don’t and Duke finds a broken skylight to drop in from, landing on the support beams of the warehouse, well above the ground.

He knows the warehouse, he realizes suddenly. It’s the warehouse Danny hid in while he was healing. Duke hasn’t been back in years.

“Just listen to me, please,” a voice says behind him, and Duke tense, spinning around to face Phantom, floating just out of reaching distance. “Those weapons are dangerous. No one should have them, it’s why I had to destroy them. Please, you can’t let them get those weapons out.”

Duke stares. Something about Phantom is familiar. The shape of his face, maybe. His voice. Maybe it’s just because he’s in the warehouse again, with someone pleading for his help.

Maybe it’s all in his mind.

“Danny?”

Phantom flinches, floating back a few inches. “What— How—”

“What happened? Is it your godfather again?”

“My— Duke? Is that you?!”

He definitely shouldn’t be doing this, but Danny’s here. Danny’s here in front of him, needing help, and he doesn’t need the Signal. He needs Duke.

He pulls off his helmet and lifts his bare face to Danny.

“Oh,” Danny breathes. “Well. I guess I should have known you’d be a hero. Can you help me one last time?”

“Yeah, of course Danny. Tell me what you need.”

“Those weapons, they were first made to kill me and others like me. It’s a whole thing I don’t have time to explain. But they’ve been changed to affect humans, all types of people, as well. I can survive a few hits from those weapons, but for most people, it would kill them instantly. I need to destroy all of them and stop any further production before the rest of the world gets a hold of them.”

“That’s why you—”

“They have to be destroyed,” Danny says. “And the people making and selling them need to be stopped. I can’t do it on my own. I’ve tried, but…”

“I’ll help,” Duke says, “I’ll help. This is a big enough problem to bring the Outsiders into it. Or the Bats, but they like to stay in Gotham.”

Danny floats closer, looking painfully relieved. “Really? They’ll be able to put an end to this?”

Duke reaches for him. “Yeah. they can do it. I’ll make sure of it.”

Danny’s feet land on the support beam as his hand meets Duke’s. They balance above the rest of the warehouse, drinking in the sight of each other. Duke rubs his thumb over Danny’s knuckles in soothing circles and watches as the tension begins to fall away from Danny’s shoulders.

“Duke,” he whispers, “I’ve missed you—”

The door below is kicked open, and a gunshot rings out. 

Moving on instinct, Duke tackles Danny, wrapping him up in his arms as they fall off the support beam. They hit the ground hard, rolling a bit, and Duke tucks Danny into his chest, bodily protecting him.

“Narrows!” 

The Red Hood stands over him, menacing, a gun pointed at him. 

“Hood?” He loosens his grip on Danny. “What the hell was that for?” 

“Thought you needed back up. You chased after our guy and lost your helmet, I think I’m right to be a little worried about you. So, who’s this?” There’s a hard edge to his voice, and Duke realizes with a sinking heart that all anyone else sees is an aggressor, a meta who attacked a truck full of weapons, attacked two people, and had to be chased down by the Signal. Jason’s seeing a threat and acting accordingly, putting Duke’s safety first. 

And with his helmet off, identity clear, Danny’s even more dangerous now that he has this knowledge.

“I’m sorry,” Danny whispers to Duke. He doesn’t have time to ask for what? before Danny’s shooting another beam of green energy at Jason then taking off, flying through the roof and out of sight.

“Shit,” Jason mutters, straightening up from where he ducked to avoid being hit, then puts his gun away and kneels next to Duke. “You alright? Why’d you let him go? I thought you had him.”

“I’m fine. He’s not… He wasn’t going to hurt me. He just needed help.”

“Sure. And what are you not telling me?”

“I knew him. He’s a good person, but he’s been in danger for a long time. This was him trying to protect others from what he went through.”

Jason takes off the helmet and stares at him. Then he sighs and reaches a hand down to help Duke to his feet. “Alright,” he says, “Let’s head back to the truck. You have until then to convince me that they’re the problem, and if they are, then I’ll help you blow up more of their weapons.” He claps a hand on Duke’s shoulder, then pulls his helmet back on. “Grab your helmet. We’re wasting daylight, Narrows.”

There’s nothing else he can do, no way to search for Danny when there are other leads to chase, so Duke grapples up to the catwalk where his helmet landed and grabs it.

Just before he puts it on, he sees a flicker of white just outside the window he’s facing. He ducks his head to hide a smile. It’s almost like he’s stepped back in time; Danny’s here in Gotham, needing help and asking for it in the warehouse. 

And though so much has changed in those years, there’s still one thing that Duke will ensure never changes: he’s Danny’s hero. Above Robin, or Signal, or anything else, Duke is Danny’s hero.

This time, he has the power to actually help Danny. He’s going to make sure no one ever hurts Danny again.

“Let’s go,” he says, jumping back down to Jason, helmet on. “I’ll tell you everything you need to know.”

[phoenixcatch7]

In love with the idea of captain marvel being Billy's imaginary friend. Like, it'd be so easy. Early depictions had them as almost fully separate people sometimes, like one soul with two minds, rather than just two filters like we mostly see now.

But imagine a Billy down on his luck, hurt and hiding from police and criminals alike, daydreaming the hours away as children do, taking inspiration from all the superheroes rising to fame, making little stories to play out his dreams of saving the world with a generic action doll he found while dumpster diving once. Most of the paint's rubbed off.

Red's his favourite colour, his comfiest jumper is a bright ruby even after all the grime and washes. Gold, too, it's shiny and warmer than silver! A hero cape is a must, big and eye catching! And he can fly, of course, like superman, and in his daydreams, when he's sore and frustrated after a long day's grind, his superhero is smart enough and knows all the right words to get the bullies to stop without resorting to fighting.

His superhero fantasy is one he spends a lot of time on, the first one he goes for when struggling to sleep at night, and he can picture it so clearly. Captain marvel is big and bright and kind, strong enough to lift the boxes for the old lady up the road who's moving all by himself, fast enough to catch Jamie who fell out of the tree on Saturday and broke his leg and couldn't come to class for weeks. He appears at the entrance to alleys when Billy is cornered, he steps up behind to cover for him when he gets caught shoplifting, he sits at the bus stop with him when it's pouring rain and the right bus doesn't seem to be coming.

And then the wizard comes, or rather whisks him away, and like a magician from a fairytale breathes life into his imaginary friend until Billy feels thrice his size and a million times more invincible.

From then on, captain marvel is a real hero, just like Billy is a real boy, and as one they save the whole city, and then the whole world, and get cats down from trees and help Mrs Victoria move the last of her boxes and she gives them a pinch in the cheek and cookies for the road and sometimes it hurts but it's so much better than he imagined.

[crow-with-a-pencil]

Crispy Eclipse <3

[briliantlymad]

Dinluke baby trapping each other.

Din tries to get luke preggy because he knows if luke is preggy with their kid there's no way luke will ever leave him.

Luke wants to get preggy because he's planning on introducing din to leia and his parents as a serious partner and they can't kill Din if Luke's already pregnant

That's all for today folks

[evilfloralfoolery]

Damn Lilies - Part 1

It's first date time between Grimm and Indigo. There's rain. And lilies. And lots of witty banter.

Oh, and Grimm is a total allergic bastard.

____________________________________

“That was some real red carpet shit, Indy.” Grimm reaches across the table, lays a hand atop Indigo's own. “But you don't have to impress me. I'm a cheap date.”

Indigo chuckles at Grimm's reference to the limousine . “Well, if one has the access to such things, why not make use of it?” 

Grimm smirks. “I’ll take you for a ride in my armored Suburban next time. Give ya a little Secret Service style.” 

The hand has taken to a lazy caress, something that Indigo normally would not tolerate, but the “kitchen incident” has blurred the lines between them.

“Hey.” Grimm's booted foot nudges his shoe. “Thanks again for the shoulder thing. Damn thing doesn't even hurt now.”

Indigo does not mention that sharing healing ability is a sure sign that their bond is, in fact, beginning to take hold, consummated or not.

The sky chooses the moment they step foot onto the sidewalk to relinquish its hold upon the apparent torrential downpour contained within the gray clouds and Indigo shields his forehead with one hand in an effort to save his vision from being obscured by water.

An arm loops through his own, securing him against the other man's side and Indigo finds himself escorted from the street before he can object.  The two of them huddle beneath the nearest canopy, the edges of Indigo's hair curling to wisps of ringlets with the intrusion of moisture.

"Wretched weather," Indigo says.  "One never knows if an umbrella is needed."

"Hmn, tell me about it."  Grimm has a short conversation with the hostess before turning back to Indigo. “Forty-five minute wait. Damn.” He flashes a smile to Indigo that is a pleasant, charming contrast to his chiseled features.  "Wanna do something a little less fancy? We can sit in the courtyard.  It’s covered and shit."

Despite his rather damp countenance, Indigo finds himself returning the smile before he can manage to suppress it.  "Yes, well.  I suppose that would do."  He glances up at the rumbling sky and frowns just a touch.  "Perhaps if we wait a moment or two, this mess will relent enough to grant us a drier passage."  

"It’s like fifty feet, Indy."  Grimm stiffens for a moment, expression collapsing into a vulnerable sort of desperation.  He ducks into the crook of his elbow and turns away from Indigo just enough to muffle a sudden “Hh’CHISSH!”  into the crook of his elbow. "Sorry."  He passes the back of his hand beneath his nose with a sniffle.  "Don't know what it is about rain and my damn sinuses."

"Well," Indigo says after offering him a mildly stated blessing.  “It is one of your more charming qualities." 

"Ha ha, you fucker."  Grimm offers him a crooked smile before glancing back towards the sidewalk.  "Come on.  Promise you won’t mess up your hair." 

Indigo's gaze is calm.  "Is that so?  Well."  He nods towards the slackening rain.  "I suppose this is as good a time as any, then.  Shall we make a run for it?"

Grimm arches an eyebrow.  "A run?  Indy, it’s seriously right there."

Such self-assured banter.  How strangely endearing it seems at this point.  Perhaps the barometric pressure has compressed his own common sense. 

Grimm steps aside to hold the gate open and Indigo suppresses a smile.  Casual chivalry is a most befitting quality, especially with this man, who seems trained in courtly mannerisms, yet rarely chooses to display it.  A fine treat, indeed. 

"Damn," Grimm says, one hand upon his now-growling stomach.  "Didn't realize I was that fucking hungry."  He pauses just before their appointed table, features slackening, and flinches into another “Hh’CHISSSHu!”

"Bless you," Indigo says.  "Might I suggest a bit of tea instead of wine?  You most certainly sound as if you could use it."

"Yeah?"  Grimm's stare travels the length of his body in a flash of appraisal and Indigo resists the urge to bite his bottom lip. “I'm not that wet."

Well, no.  Grimm is not soaked to the bone by any means, but the material of his dress shirt clinging to his chest in a manner that borders on obscene.  His every curve is highlighted by the pull of fabric, as if it has been painted on rather than merely worn.

Great gods. 

Grimm's attention is currently fixated not upon Indigo himself, but rather upon the rather ridiculous bouquet of lilies shoved into the crystal vase atop the outside table.  He would have to push the thing aside simply so that he could properly see Grimm's face.

Ridiculous decorative faux pas at best.

Grimm brushes a finger over the velvety yellow petal. “Hmmn, you allergic to these?”

“To lilies? No, actually.” Indigo ruffles the back of his hair in an unconscious gesture with just a hint of a laugh. “Difficult to believe, I know.”

“That's weird,” Grimm says. His lips curve into a nefarious smile. “Because I am.”

Indigo blinks. Sits up straighter. “What. . . did you say?”

“Yeah.” Grimm toys with the tip of one petal. “Hella allergic.”

“Grimm.” Indigo levels his stare at his deviously smirking companion. “If this is your idea of some manner of joke-”

“Hmn.” Grimm sits back in his chair, casually sips his water as if this is not a highly concerning development. “Guess you'll just have to see for yourself.”

Indigo certainly isn’t laughing, especially when Grimm brushes a finger beneath his eye and sniffles.

“Somethin’ wrong, Indy?” Grimm leans back in his chair, a pilfered petal between his fingers.

“Grimm, I swear to all of the gods . . .”  

“All of them?”  Grimm arches an eyebrow.  “Sounds excessive.” 

Indigo adjusts his glasses as he leans forward to touch a finger to Grimm’s glass of water, the liquid sizzling to vapor before frosting over to ice, the glass itself cracking down the center.  “You have yet to see excessive.” 

“All I’m seein’ is dramatic,” Grimm says. 

But he flicks Indigo’s fork off the table with a decisive ping just the same.

Indigo narrows his eyes.  “Did you just . . .”

“Yeah, I did.”  Grimm lays an arm on the table and leans closer.  “I ain’t afraid to flick your knife, either.”  

One silver eyebrow arches high.  “In public?”

Grimm stops salaciously groping the nearest lily for a moment.  “I’ll stroke your stamen, too.” 

Indigo’s tone and stare deadpan. “Floral fondling is not my particular predilection.” 

Grimm doesn’t just laugh.  He throws his head back and guffaws without concern for any attention such a thing might draw.  An admirable quality, if Indigo is being honest with himself.

That and his absurd ability to sneeze at the most inopportune of times.  Mid-laugh, perhaps.

"Again, bless you," Indigo says.  He props an arm on the table and glances at the man over the rims of his glasses.  "Should I spare you the sentiment or are you just going to keep at it?"

Grimm flashes him a crooked smile that is both disarming and cocky.  "Thanks. I think."  He cants his head to one side and strokes the fine mesh of hair that edges his chin.  "Anything else, smartass?"

"Not at the moment," Indigo says.

The smirk curves into a sharper angle as the man leans back in his chair, hands clasped behind his head.  "You're a real piece of work." 

Indigo allows his gaze to linger on the swell of Grimm's bicep through his shirt and follows the line of muscle down his torso.

Speak for yourself, he thinks.

"That's quite an impressive piece of art," Indigo says, nodding towards Grimm's exposed forearm.  "How long does something of that nature take?"

"The tatt?"  Grimm glances at his arm with a shrug.  "Forty hours maybe?  Not all at once, of course."  He pilfers Indigo's water without asking and takes a sip, winking at Indigo over the rim of the glass.  "Tattoo artist can't hold a machine that long."  

"Of course," Indigo says.  "I can imagine piercing that thick skin of yours takes more patience than one man can muster in a single session."

A hand lights upon his own and Indigo startles, flicking his gaze to where Grimm's meaty palm covers the tops his fingers.

"I enjoy this, you know," Grimm says.  "Us giving each other shit."  Golden brown eyes fix him with a pointed stare.  "I enjoy you. "  

Color threatens to rise in Indigo's fair skin, but he manages to quell the sensation with a soft clearing of his throat as he moves a finger beneath Grimm's hand in subtle reciprocation.

"I enjoy this as well," Indigo says.  "It's been quite some time since I--"  He pauses, doing his best to affect a bland stare as Grimm withdraws his hand and flinches into another sneeze with far less warning than before.  "Oh, bloody hell, Grimm."

"Heh, sorry."  Grimm rubs at his nose with a sniff.  "Damn lilies."

Indeed.

Their conversation turns to filling in the gaps of the past week, Indigo sharing the details of his trials with “book editing” and Grimm explaining the significance of the tattoo.

"So, knives, huh.” Grimm takes a bite of his steak and chews thoughtfully.  “How long you train for something like that?"

"Not long," Indigo says with a laugh.  "Just my entire life.” 

“Same,” Grimm says.  “But if you ask my dad, I was born for shooting shit.”

Indigo sips his water out of the far too fancy glass in which it had been delivered.  “And what of your hand-to-hand skills?”

"I’ve got ‘em."  One booted foot nudges his ankle.  "We should spar sometime." 

Indigo sets his glass down with a smirk.  "You think so?  I would so hate to embarrass you, Grimm." 

The other man snorts.  "Asshole."

Indigo chuckles.

They eat in silence for a moment, neither feeling the need to fill the void with conversation. Strange how Indigo had never noticed his level of comfort with Grimm until this moment.

“I gotta finish this damn tatt,” Grimm says at last.  “Just having linework here bothers me.” 

He tugs at the fabric for better access to his shoulder, runs his palm over his collarbone.  "See that shit? Looks weird just sitting there."

Indigo swallows.  Gods, the gesture is positively obscene somehow, even more so when yet another button pops open, which Grimm does not seem to notice.

Grimm’s lips curve into that self-satisfied smirk.  “See somethin’ you like, Indy?”

Indigo frowns. His concern, however, is not with Grimm’s teasing.  It is when that saucy grin dissolves into a hitching excuse for breath that he ceases to find humor in the situation. 

Grimms gaze becomes an unfocused, long-distance stare, his lips parting, eyes drifting to half-mast.

Oh. Oh gods.

"Uh'CHIISH!" A staggering inhalation. A helpless gasp.  "Uh--CHISSHu! . . . Hhuh'CHISSH!"

Indigo swallows past the lump of incredulity in his throat and manages the beginnings of a polite "bless you" before Grimm interrupts the sentiment with another sneeze.  And another.  

"Huh--CHISSH'u! . . . Hh'CHIISSH-uh! . . . Hhhuh . . !"  The corner of Grimm's lip curls into a snarl of desperation and he switches from ducking into the crook of his elbow to steepling both hands over his mouth and nose with a shuddering flinch of shoulders.  "Uh'CHISSHu! . . .Hkg'CHISSSH'u! . . . Huh . . ! Hhh . . !  -uhCHISSCH'iiuh!" 

A handkerchief.  He is definitely in dire need of one.  Indigo pats the front of his pants with a frown.  Where had he put the blasted----

At last, he remembers that he has the ability to actually conjure one and does so with a fumbling of fingers, nearly dropping it before he manages to hand it over to his still struggling companion.

"H-here," he says.  Stammers.  

For fuck's sake, Indigo.

"Thanks, Idii--iiih . . .!"  Grimm buries his nose in the half-folded cloth with a sharp, shuddering inhalation.  

"Hkgg'CHIISSSHu!"  He leaves the fabric clamped there for a moment before straightening with liquid sniffle and a roll of his shoulders.  "Well, damn."

Indigo blinks.  Well, isn't that just the understatement of the century.

"Bless you, Grimm!" he says after far too many heartbeats of hesitation.  "Are you quite finished, then?"

"Mmmm, dunno."  Grimm wipes at his nose with a sniffle.  "Hard to tell . . hheh . . .! Huuh . . .!"  He squints into the distance before the helpless slackening of his features reforms into a tired semblance of normality.  "Hnn, fuck."  

A trickle of sweat edges its way down the back of Indigo’s neck and he straightens into a rigid posture. 

The bastard.  The absolute bastard.  

This was more than purposeful, that’s what it was.  This was planned.  Surely it must be.  

But when Grimm wipes at a trail of allergic tears, the frantic turbulence of Indigo's hormones comes to an abrupt halt and his demeanor softens from cordial to concerned in a mere instant.

"Perhaps that is enough of your nonsense," he says.  He adjusts his glasses and tilts his head, eying Grimm over the rims.  "Despite your antics, you sound as if you are truly suffering."  

"I might be."  Grimm shrugs a shoulder.  "Doesn't matter, though." His expression switches to coy expectation.  “Not if it gets you off.”   

“Honestly–”

"I said what I said.”

"Hmn," Indigo says.  "Well, far be it for me to tell you what to do, Grimm--"

"But you will anyway," Grimm finishes with a smirk.  

“You shall regret your allergic mischief later,” Indigo assures him.

“Yeah?”  Grimm runs a booted foot up his trouser leg like a wandering, lascivious hand.  “Wanna borrow my handcuffs?”  

It is now Indigo’s turn to smile in a manner that is both chilling and sinful, a pale hint of blue fire encircling his own wrist.  “I prefer other methods.” 

Grimm runs a hand through his hair and smirks. “Kinky.”

[goodbirb]

Isn't it fucked up Warren accepted to be cyro frozen With the risk of memory loss because he didn't want to be responsible for his life. And when he did lose his memory he still wanted the same thing... It's like the only way to get rid of your problems is to face them

[terrorofthetrident]

do you ever think about how alicent’s children feel about her having an obvious soft spot for rhaenyra? they weren’t around to witness alicent and rhaenyra’s relationship before alicent was forced to marry viserys and then forced into motherhood. they don’t have any fond memories with rhaenyra and the lasting impression they have of her is probably when she called for aemond to be “sharply questioned”. it got me thinking about the moment in alicent’s toast where she says rhaenyra would make a fine queen..i really wonder what was going on in aemond’s head in particular when he heard her say that. the idea that the lives of his family members as well as his own would be in danger if rhaenyra were to take the throne was always looming over his head since he was a child..he made training a focal part of his life for when the moment would come so he’d be able to defend and protect them, yet he heard his mother speak those words and mean them

[flamingredanon]

*peeks out from the void*

We all know Terrence Suave and his failed Toppat leadership for whatever reason your headcanon might be for him, but I have an interesting question that kinda involves that.

What if after whatever happened to Wilford happened, Terrence decided not to be leader, but made Reginald leader then and there, would Reginald have been as good of a leader as after he dethroned Terrence, or would either the inexperience or power go to his head and still doom the Toppats as if Terrence was leading, or an even worse fate of finding out that somehow whoever chose to lead after Wilford would be doomed to fail no matter what?

[iceeericeee]

I love writing fanfiction because it’s the closest I can get to playing god

[marciliedonato]

i can't believe they did it again.....another scott pilgrim eva moment i had to do a double take

My brothers in christ (gn) are you seeing this shit

[goozeghost]

To celebrate 10 years in this god forsaken fandom, I redrew the og art of my fave paranormal investigators !

Singles and small rant below cut :P

Cannot believe it’s been a damn decade. This fandom and these characters have done so much to shape me and help me turn into the person- and artist!!- I am today, and I am forever grateful for the friends I’ve made along the way. (You know who you are 😉)

I cannot believe young Gooze looked at Johnny Ghost and said Yeah, that’s my entire personality now, and then it WAS. Now I’m an inducted thespian with a love for dramatizing everything, and for doing stupid voices, and a buncha other stuff. I even took his name, Johnny/Ghost. Which I suppose a lot of us have, huh?

Anyway if you’re looking down here, hi, here’s the first ever piece of fanart young Gooze did (that I can find)

(Yes, that’s Ghost and Jimmy. And yeah it’s bad, but I was a very young child. Let’s appreciate how far I’ve come, yeah?)

[toastedjeans]

I'm actually SO tempted to do a similar thing that @/alextydaisuda123 and @/creat0rstudi0 are doing, with drawing a character from different AUs. I'm just not sure who yet.

I could do it like Soul and use a canon character (probably Gustavo and/or Brick), OR I'll do something similar to what Emi does and draw what my OC would look like in different AUs.

Who knows, maybe I'll do both

[klayr-de-gall]

Day 18 - Biker

Don't mess with them.

–

Keaya might look like the trophy wife, but he is the real trouble.

As always, all entries for this week (Day 14 to Day 20) can be found on my Patreon already!

[Social Media and Patreon]

Masterlis

[kaus7o]

[starry-lemonaid]

me when mermaids

in class doodle that got away from me lmao- inspired by that time ramon started screaming when pac tried to give him to bagi lmao (@tastytoastz fic life is like the ocean it goes up and down lol)