#wasn't planning on doing any of these originally but i couldn't resist some of the prompts

[emyn-arnens]

Light wells between Yavanna’s hands, blinding in the darkness, and spills between her fingers onto the ruins of Laurelin and Telperion, pouring forth in bright cataracts upon the torn roots, the mangled branches. She joins her voice with light, singing the trees to life. And the trees begin to heal, digging their roots into the earth, growing shining bark upon their trunks, and putting forth new leaves.

Still she sings. Her voice rises in chanting song, as wild and stirring as the thunder of the heavens, and the roots of her song burrow deep into the earth and spread their branches over the lightening lands. And the land hearkens to her voice.

As she sings, forests burst forth full-grown from the ground, stippling all of Arda in shadow. The trees stretch their branches to the heavens, fencing out the stars, and all that lies beneath them quavers under the shadow of their eaves. The Shepherds of the Trees walk in wrath against the broods and hordes of Melkor and all that would lay harm to the works of Kementári.

And as the works of her hands spill unconquered over all lands beneath the heavens, Yavanna lifts her gaze and smiles.

↳ tolkientober day 1: light | AO3

[crystalandparrot]

Rottmnt x Reader

School Tour

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3

All actors are names made by me, any relation or comparison to these characters is purely coincidental.

Warning: Drug use, marijuana but its not underage drug use and it's legal.

Intergalactic by the Beastie Boys bounced between your ears once you stepped up to Empire High School. Most students were leaving for the day, talking amongst themselves and making plans for the weekend.

"Ms. (L/n)!" A man with a blonde effeminate wig that most students would call a "Karen" haircut waved furiously at you from the top of the steps. He bounced down the steps, his hair poofy and bouncing.

You quickly put your headphones away and tucked the phone in your pocket. "Mr.—"

"Dale is fine! I don't like formalities, I had enough of those in high school." Dale, the Principal of Empire High, chuckled goofily. "How about I give you the tour?" Dale asked, gesturing to the large school doors.

You nodded with a grin, following Dale inside. In between showing you the classes, he asked questions regarding your resume. Some questions were about family, achievements, and activities, but then he surprised you by asking about your schooling. "Oh! I was attending a Mystic College in the Hidden City. Don't worry, it has the same schooling as New York--"

"Oh! I wasn't worried about that! We have a couple of Yokai students and faculty that go in between schools." Dale opened the door to the gymnasium, holding it open for you to walk in.

THUD--SNAP

You looked forward, your eyes immediately expanding once you saw a punching bag quickly flying your way. For a split second, your eyes darted to the top of it, and upon seeing a broken chain your heart continued to drop. You couldn't resist the shriek that left your lips and the closing of your eyes.

THUD

Not feeling anything, you stopped screaming and opened one eye. Your eyes were looking at a large three-fingered, green, hand. Below that hand sat a silver watch with a teddy bear hour hand. In the large hand sat the punching bag, almost like he froze it in time. His fingers wrapped around the sides of the bag, almost fitting perfectly in his palm.

"Tyler! What did we say about using mystic abilities?" A deep voice boomed throughout the building.

"Sorry, Mr. Raph!" A pre-pubescent voice called back.

"C'mere and hang this back up." The deep voice commanded, tossing the punching bag forward. A teenage bull Yokai caught it like he was thrown a pillow. He quickly hung it back up on the one hook that was missing a bag.

"Are you okay, ma'am?" That deep voice shook you from your frozen spot. You looked up, into the deep brown eyes of the huge turtle Yokai in front of you. He wore a sleeveless red hoodie that had holes torn into it where the turtle's spikes poked through. On his legs were black shorts with two red stripes on each leg, matching the color of the red sweatband on his forehead.

"Y-yes.." realizing you were whispering, you cleared your throat, "Yes. Sorry, I'm fine."

"I know, my appearance is probably a little scary--"

You couldn't stop your mouth before it ran, he just looked so dejected, "No! I was just surprised at the sudden bag of sand flying towards me at light speed, I swear! Your appearance is quite nice to look at--"

"Ooh!" A crescendo of students began.

The large Yokai turned with a glare, "Do you want laps? 'Cause it sounded to me like you guys were asking to run laps right now." He insinuated. The students gasped and then they all went back to their original training. The teacher chuckled, then turned back to you. It was then that you noticed the adorable snaggle tooth that he had. "Sorry about them. High schoolers, y'know?" He chuckled again.

You chuckled this time and nodded, "I'm (Y/n) (L/n). The new librarian slash computer lab teacher." You held out your hand for a handshake.

"Raphael, but you can call me Raph. The guidance counselor slash wrestling coach slash gym teacher," Raph's hand completely covered your hand as he shook it.

"Thank you. For saving me, I mean. If it weren't for you, I probably would have been flattened." You said once Raph released your hand.

"It was no problem, really!" Raph said, rubbing the back of his neck bashfully.

Behind you, Dale cleared his throat, "I hate to interrupt, but it's nearly five and we still have your classroom to see."

"Oh! I didn't realize it was getting so late." You said, pulling out the purple phone to look at the time. As you did, you saw about twenty missed calls and double that in texts from your number. Surprisingly, they were all instructions from Donnie/Othello, telling you how to treat his phone, one password for unlocking his phone and no others, apps you were allowed to use and detailed explanations on how to use them, and finally, instructions to meet and exchange phones.

"Did you wanna...exchange numbers? We're both gonna be afterschool teachers so it might be useful for the future." The adorably large Yokai asked as his face flushed the color of his sweater.

"I'd love to!" You almost handed him the phone, but then paused. "Wait. I'm sorry, it's a long story, but I accidentally switched my phone with someone else's, so I can't put your number in here." Before the turtle could change moods, you grabbed his phone, "So I'll just give you my number." Raph's face flushed brighter as he felt his tail wag in his shorts. He's never met anyone like you before. Without Raph even knowing it, you had given his phone back and left with Principal Dale.

"Yo! You whipped already, coach?!"

"Tyler! Ten laps!"

A harsh wind smacked you in the face as you stood in the scarcely populated park. It was currently 8:59 p.m. as Othello's phone read. You tucked the phone into your puffy sweater pocket and hugged your body. Donnie's meticulous texts said he'd be at Rucko Park at 9 P.M., so you naturally arrived five--okay ten minutes early. You didn't expect it to be so cold, though. Maybe you should have worn more layers or arrived closer to the allotted time, but...you kind of wanted to make a good first impression.

"Madam." A familiar voice shook you from your thoughts. You seemed to do that a lot lately.

Looking up, you spotted the purple-clad turtle Yokai from earlier. Quickly standing, you couldn't resist the temptation of copying his mannerisms slightly, "Good evening, sir. I understand we've fallen into quite the predicament with our cellular communication devices?" You raised an eyebrow.

'...Is she fucking with me?' Donnie heard that little voice in his brain, but his excitement overruled it. "You understand correctly, good lady! Might we resolve this disastrous plight before any other events can overturn this already cruel night?" Donnie finished with a bow.

"Wow."

Donnie felt sweat run down his brow. Maybe he should have listened, that little voice was usually right anyway--

"That. Was incredible."

Donnie looked up, a hopeful gleam in his eye.

"I would continue, but that was better than anything I could have come up with. Did you just make that up?" You asked, stars in your eyes.

Donnie felt himself nod, no words leaving his lips.

"That's awesome." You breathed. "Oh! Your phone, good sir." You held out his phone with a similar bow, adding a bit more flourish as you held out his phone. "I obeyed your instructions to the tee. Well, I only really opened Spotify, but I followed the instructions!" You explained once Donnie took his phone from your hand. You stood fully straight, "You're Othello Von Ryan?"

"Ah! The lady has exquisite taste? Yes, I am Othello, or Donatello, as most know me. You're (username)?" He asked, referring to your Spotify account.

"(Y/n), as most know me." You repeated with a grin.

Donnie chuckled, handing back your phone, "You've been following me for a couple of years, I see," he must have looked through your app.

"Yes! You've helped me so much—you were basically my life line in college—" your face flushed as you realized your words, "YOUR MUSIC! Not you, well, technically you, but—"

"How?" Donnie quieted your thoughts with a single word.

"Your studying playlists kept me sane. If I had to scroll through another classical music studying playlist I would have shrieked." You dragged your hands through your hair, invoking a chuckle from the tall Yokai. "It was such an interesting mesh of music that I was able to get Valedictorian from all my studying! So, thank you." You smiled.

"Valedictorian?! My playlist made you study enough to be the top of your class! Take that Leo!" Donnie laughed chaotically. You accidentally let out a chuckled, startling the turtle into looking back at you.

"I hope you don't think this is overstepping but, I was wondering if you'd listen to a song? I thought you'd like it because of all of your playlists, and if you like it I have a ton more." You asked, scrolling through your Spotify accounts now.

'She's been polite, kind, and stayed out of your phone for the majority of the time you'd encountered each other. The least you could do is listen to a song you won't like.' Donnie reasoned with himself. "Of course! Text it to me, I'll make sure to save your number, oh loyal fan." Donnie joked.

"Really? Sweet! I'll save your number too, oh gracious music supplier." You joked back.

'Her chemistry is electric,' Donnie thought. He felt a buzz and watched as his phone lit up with a text.

"Thanks for meeting with me to switch phones, I wish I could stay longer, but—"

"No, need to explain. You have a date or you have friends arriving—"

You chuckled, startling Donnie from his self conscious rambling, "Oh, yeah. A super hot date with Jupiter Jim while I unpack my new apartment." You connected your headphones back to your phone. "It was really nice meeting you. Maybe we can hang out in the future, if you're up to hanging out with a school librarian?"

Donnie's gaping mouth finally closed as he looked into your hopeful eyes, 'Why were they hopeful?' He gave a small smile, "I think that sounds like a wonderful idea."

"Great!" Copying his bow from when you first met, you said, "Adieu, Sir." With that, you both left with your old phones and a new acquaintance.

CLAP "Alright! We start shooting in two weeks, people! And we're already on shit detail."

Leo leaned one cheek on his fist as the other scrolled through his texts. Old flings, fans who found his number, other actors, but nothing that he found important.

"What are we gonna do about Tiffany?"

Leo looked up, seeing all his directors and most of his co-stars looking at him, "Huh?"

"Tiffany! Your co-star? The love interest? The whole reason we've been here for five hours?" The director asked.

"Well, what's the main issue? Why are we trying to fix her little issues when the big issue is what's gonna make or break this?" Leo asked, shoving his phone into his pocket.

The others in the room began to get nervous. Most began sweating, and a few turned red in embarrassment.

"What?" Leo asked, now concerned.

"Tiffany is refusing to be your lead unless..." the director sighed, refusing to look at Leo, "unless you wear a human disguise."

Blink. Blink. "Ha!" Leo began laughing a deep chortle, straight from his core. The others in the room began laughing with him, albeit nervously. "Then let her refuse!"

The director stopped laughing, "But, but. She's your lead—"

Leo had suddenly stopped laughing to glare at his director as he spoke, "No. I'm the lead. Tiffany Blanco was supposed to be Renae Whittler, Primetime's love interest." Yanking the script from who knows where, he began reading, "'Renae Whittler initially despises Primetime, thinking him to be the man who ruined her life, but upon realizing they are after a common enemy, she begins to love him for the way he is. Together, they fight crime, discover truths, and explore worlds, and possibly each other.'" Leo read flatly. "'The way he is'. If you make Primetime human, is that making him, ‘the way he is'?"

The humans in the room looked ashamed and guilty, while the Yokai, some in disguises, looked at Leo in awe.

"If she wants to refuse, let her refuse. Because I will be damned if I let some twenty-three year with small tits and big dreams tell me who I am." With that, Leo stood and stormed out of the room.

As Leo paced the halls, one of his main co-stars, Danny Filmore, ran into the hall after he left. Danny was a deer Yokai who played the role of Primetime's 'Guy in the chair', Marcus Tracy. His character reminded him a lot of Donnie. Without a word, Danny sat in one of the chairs lining the crips walls and pulled out a vape. The vape was slim and purple in color, but it shined under the flickering fluorescent lights above. He took a long inhale and then a small inhale of regular air. After holding it, Leo realized Danny wasn't smoking Nicotine.

"Jesus, Danny, not here." Leo whined.

"What—" Danny started, but was then interrupted by a violent cough from his throat. He held up a finger, telling Leo to wait a minute. Again, Marcus Tracy reminded Leo of Donnie, not the actor who played him. "—ever man, you know Anthony doesn't give a shit." Danny finished, his eyes now bloodshot and lidded.

Anthony Silvermeadow was the director. He wasn't a pushover by any means, but he was pretty lax on the rules. As long as you weren't  under the influence while shooting, he didn't care. Most of the time you saw him with a drink in his hand.

"That was pretty ballsy, man." Danny said, tucking his vape away.

Leo sighed, running a hand down the back of his head, "I know. But...it took so much for me to audition as me that it feels wrong to do anything else. I promised my—" Leo paused on the 'b-word', "—family that I wouldn't change for anyone. And I intend to stand by it."

Danny nodded, but stayed silent.

"I guess I should apologize?" Leo asked Danny.

"Nah. You're right. Tony even said so." Danny let the words hang in the air.

"But?" Leo waited.

"You gotta find your own love interest." Danny smirked.

Leo's mind raced through his texts, his old friends, anything he could think of that would give him a hint of where to start. With a click, the once flickering lights stayed on just as an idea passed through Leo's brain. 'Lightbulb.'

Once Donnie got back home, he pushed his hand into a metal panel next to a large, circular, sealed door. It lit up purple, reading his palm. The panel flashed green, accepting the readout and unlocked the metal doors. The first row of doors twisted clockwise then opened. The second set rotated counterclockwise then opened to reveal the large lab within. Donnie added them for extra security and totally not because they were in a Jupiter Jim movie and he thought it looked cool.

"Donnie!" Shelldon, Donnie's drone and adopted child (not literally speaking...I think?) flew out of the purple themed lab and flew around his father.

"Anything new?" Donnie asked as he walked over to his purple chair. With a click and a hiss, the shoulder pads on Donnie's battle shell released the front of his plastron where it was connected.

"A new number texted you. You have repeating interactions. Would you like me to —" Eight different guns popped out of Shelldon's back compartment, "remove the pest?"

"No!" Donnie cleared his throat, then sat in his chair regally, "No. That won't be necessary. Rename contact (L/n) and check new message." Donnie opened his computer and flipped through his files.

"Contact: (L/n). Sent: "Don't Stop Movin' by S Club. The vibe is 80's dance." I like this chick!" Shelldon added, once his automated voice cut out.

"The vibe?" Donnie asked out loud.

"I think she's referring to your playlists and how the vibe is always different, dude." Shelldon explained.

"Huh. 80's dance music...go ahead and play it, Shelldon." Donnie waved his hand in Shelldon's direction.

It was quiet before a synthetic voice started with the hook. It was followed by a heavy thumping base, then a pleasant male vocalist began to sing the bridge. The words were a nice balance of fast then slow, with vibrato when appropriate. A sudden appearance of a female singer gave Donnie goosebumps. Their voices had a nice harmonization. Her voice grew more and more powerful as the instruments grew. Donnie couldn't help but tap his feet and bob his head. As the lead sang the chorus that was accompanied by more background singers of equal talent, Donnie felt a grin spread onto his lips. The need to boogey was insatiable. The chorus repeated in the background when the male vocalist came back to the mic. The speed in which the song progressed seemed to get quicker, like the hook, chorus, and bridge were all shortened.

By the time the bridge came on again, Donnie couldn't resist. He stood up, performing his dancing moves he’s secretly perfected over the years unbeknownst to his brother and father who all shared the same house.

Until now, that is.

Splinter, also known as Hamato Yoshi, and also known as Donnie and Mikey’s father, walked to Donnie’s lab to explore the commotion. With a cane and small shuffle, Splinter peeked around the door, spying Donnie dancing like he was in an 80’s music video.

“Ah, young love.” Splinter nodded, then put a hand to his chin in thought, “Maybe I will marry one of them off.”

[chiscribbs]

Apocalypse Future Donnie Concepts

I wasn't actually planning on posting these until I had a definitive final design to share alongside them, but- It's probably going to be a while before that happens and I feel bad for how inactive this blog has been lately. I've been working on stuff, but only in-between projects, and none of it is really ready to post. So, here's a little something to prove that I am still alive. ❤

Donnie's design is so hard to update. It's just...so good in its simplicity??? Every element feels necessary to his character - so figuring out what to keep, what to get rid of, and what to change slightly is a definite challenge. It's even harder when we're given so little (canonical) information about what role he played in the Resistance and what effects the Krang Apocalypse may have had on him...including how long ago he was killed in relation to the movie. Or how he was killed, for that matter.

So, I'm playing around with some potential ideas and trying to get something that feels right - feels like Donnie, but if he had to adapt to the apocalypse (while also trying to stick to the show's simplistic, shape-heavy style, so nothing too terribly detailed or complex.) I'll share a few of these ideas below, for anyone who's interested.

(Also, yes - I know the spot-goatee is in no way an original concept, but I have a deep affection for it and had to include it in my design.)

One of the concepts I'm considering is giving Donnie a prosthetic leg, something to sort of parallel Leo with his Robo-Raph arm. But in Donnie's case, he probably lost his leg long before Raph was killed or maybe even before he built the robots of his family (maybe this serves as the inspiration or catalyst for the idea.) My working theory is that he was attempting to detonate a mine field full of some Krang dogs and something went wrong which caused him to get caught up in the resulting blast. He was lucky enough to keep his life, but lost his leg and probably some of his hearing in the process. Naturally, because it's Donnie (and because they're living through an apocalypse), the leg will be more than just a prosthetic limb - it'll have some kind of weaponry or technological capabilities built into it. Just haven't decided what that's going to be yet, lol.

I'm also toying with the idea of him creating some kind of "Ninpo Protection Device" - something to act as a defense mechanism against the Krang's mystic-cancelling (or, more accurately, locking) abilities. He's testing it on himself before green-lighting it to be used on his brothers (which, obviously, never happens.) The problem is I can't decide how to visibly convey this idea, I was thinking something along the lines of one of those medical aid devices that become permanent attachments to the user's body. But most of the visible parts of his body are covered in natural armor, save for his limbs and head. So figuring out the best placement for a thing like that has been a little challenging.

I was considering giving him a mechanical hand along with/in place of the robotic leg, as well. Reason being - he works primarily with his hands and almost never wears practical protection gear (another thing I tried to partially remedy with the addition of the gloves), so if any part of him is going to be lost, his hands would be the logical first choice. I also think there's a poetic element to the guy who relies on his tech becoming more and more "mechanical" himself (but only in the physical sense). It would also imply that there was a time when he couldn't work as efficiently on his own as he normally is able to, due to having one less hand, so there was likely an adjustment period wherein he had to lean into his mystic abilities (and the aid of others around him) far more than he's used to doing. A little background character development for him, because I love that kind of stuff.

These are about all of the definitive concepts I have for him at the moment, but obviously, I'm nowhere near having a finished design just yet. So, all of these could potentially be scrapped or tweaked in the final version.

If you read this far - kudos! And thanks for your interest! :>

[fuesch]

Agatha All Along 1x06

Oh, look who's confirmed to be Jewish. Now everybody who's been prematurely ranting can chill. Yay!

It's a magick mitzvah even. Is that an actual thing or are they witchy Jews.

A golden lion embroidered on that dark fabric - I'd love to be normal, but how can I when it reminds me of the silver tigers on the jacket we first saw Peter in?!

WTF, Billy's dad looks like a bearded version of Director Hayward to me. Those eyes are way too similar.

Billy's met Lilia before?! Okay, so he's not Billy M. yet and the way Lilia is talking makes it seem there'll be no merging of the Billys, the original B. Kaplan will actually die. How depressing.

I can't believe the sigil came from Lilia! And why?!

Whoa, the Hex exists already. The original Billy K. only just got that prediction from Lilia and has so little time left. There wasn't much "now" to enjoy anymore. D:

Whoa, Wanda had even broadcast on radio! AFAIR I never thought about that other people might pick up that signal! There must be some out there still watching with antenna or dish, who have actually seen Wanda's show.

Oh, his parents actually call him William. Well, that's a nice way to differentiate the characters without involving last names.

Alice!

If nothing is physically wrong with Billy, does that mean he has healing powers?

Poor freshly reincarnated Billy having a really bad and confusing time. And his new parents as well. :o(

Billy and Eddie making out - I'm slightly scared of going into that AAA tag now, there'll be so many disappointed Agatha/Rio shippers who thought it would be their ship doing the smooching.

"Nothing in my life has felt normal until I met you." Awwwww.

Woah, I'm starting to think there was actually something to those theories about ep 5 being Billy's trial. In his room are the Eastview pennant and the chain of tetraeder-covered lights we saw in the trial house.

A "trans lives matter" poster in Billy's room. Of course he's a good boy.

Ooh, Billy did some research. "Strange occurences persist to haunt Westview residents" Interesting, tell me more!

Avengers training exercise gone wrong. Uh huh.

I didn't watch the mid-season trailer, but saw a cap on Twitter. The quality wasn't great (which kept me from brightening it in Photoshop, as there was nothing more to see), but I did see some hair sticking out from under the hat. Hey, you know who has somewhat long hair? And that outfit is so unlike Peter, that it's gotta be his disguise. Today I saw a post on my Twitter timeline linking to an article about Mr. Bucket Hat's identity and couldn't resist. I held the mouse over the link to read the URL and had my confirmation. So I changed my plans and instead of doing preparations for stuff, I watched the episode.

Was super excited when I saw that the episode link on D+ is a cap of Billy & boyf in an underground garage. Which, you know, is the place where one would meet someone who's hiding their identity. And despite seeing this announced in that cap, I can't believe it's Billy meeting Peter. I mean, they're multiverse family, they've met before, yet neither knows this, ARGH!

What was Mr. Bucket Hat throwing and then putting in his pocket? My first thought is something with a sigil on it, but then he wouldn't remember Westview.

Bohnerrific69. Sorry, I LOLed way too loudly. But should you use that name when you're hiding from the authorities and maybe others?!

IS THAT WHAT THE BEARD WAS FOR?!?!

"Randall" isn't any better, Randy! Somebody give this man some help coming up with aliases!

"Bub"? Hmmmmm… boy, do I wonder where Horny Stiffy picked up that word. What a mystery, we shall never know.

OMFG, Peter, what did they do to you?! The Hex was such a bad time for him that he's still having a bad time 3 years later. My poor baby. I wonder if all the protection stuff he has all over actually does something. But if not, at least it should ease his mind somewhat.

I wonder if there's anything interesting on his shirt. Anyone know what it says?

Agatha stole your house? Baby, that belonged to WitSec. Maybe he really does have a sigil, but it only works on his actual identity, not the Hex one. I mean, it looks like he's been to a witch, so maybe while there he asked to forget who he is so he wouldn't miss his old life in his own universe. Does he even know he's run away from witness protection? If not, that would explain the unwise choice of screenname.

"I was a terrible influence on Wanda and Vision's kids." No, no, you were the best uncle! That's really not something to feel guilty about.

Agatha had Peter poison Sparky! FFS, Agatha! "Woof" - "Hey!" I second Peter's comment.

Hearing Peter say speedster gave me heart tickles.

He has a one-man show! So 1. He really seems to think the identity Monica uncovered is his real one, 2. He's not hiding, WTF?! No way WitSec didn't find him. Maybe they leave him alone because he's living under an alias and his show isn't popular enough to attract attention?

Poor Billy thinking Wanda and Vision are dead. But as long as he can't remember them, it shouldn't be that bad.

Oh, so Agatha caused disasters in the non-magical world too. And she's Jolene?!

"Fun facts: Murdered her entire coven." Fun indeed!

Billy really is on the Road for Tommy! Oh, right, as a survivor of the Witches' Road, Agatha would be very useful. I had forgotten about that.

Wait, has Agatha always been wearing that Bohner family reunion shirt ("pitch a tent" XD) when she was at home with Rio?! Dammit, I feel a mighty need for that shirt now. They better give us that merch. Never mind, thanks, @xmcu-fietro!

Okay, but that shirt means that the name wasn't a creation of the Hex, holy shit! Are you telling me WitSec seriously gave him that name? Peter must have managed to piss them off beforehand.

Joe Locke was so close to losing it in that "poking the bear" scene. But since he kept it together, they could use that take. Good for us, hee.

The actors seemed to have fun. I guess that excessive pen clicking was also improvised.

"I do not wanna go back in the closet." XD

So the sigil was still working when Billy suspected his real identity, as well as when he said it the first time to Agatha. So what would finally break it?

Agatha manages to free herself from the mud. And what about Lilia and Jen?

Billy with the hoodie of shame. He's really is so much like his mom.

"It's nice to see you again, Billy." The soft way she says it sounds like she means it. Did she always like the Minimoffs or did she just decide to adopt him because she had suspected him to be Nicky?

Huh, the sigil is broken, but I don't understand how. Sure, Billy just crushed it the thing it was on, but that won't have done it. Ugh, I have no patience, dig up Lilia and make her answer my question!

Just after the topic of body count, Agatha asks where Billy got his new body. Whoa, what if he thinks he killed William? I mean, maybe she does, but I hope he doesn't.

"all that power you can't control without throwing a temper tantrum." Your multiverse grandpa would be so proud!

"She chose a town full of strangers over her own flesh and wires." I mean, she kinda had to take down the Hex, there wasn't much choice, Agatha. Not to mention that witch that nagged her into it.

Tommy is out there, Billy can sense him! *mewl*

"Gosh, you really are a Maximoff. Otherwise none of this would be nearly as dramatic." XD But this is why we love them!

The pathetic way I was waiting for Evan Peters (huh, look at #6 being the Peter episode again) to show up in the credits in hopes of getting hints about the character from the background image. It's just the Westview map with the Hex.

[nekoannie-chan]

Echoes of the unknown part I

Echoes of the unknown part I

Title: Echoes of the unknown part I.

Fandom: Marvel, Captain America.

Ship: Steve Rogers & OFC (Grace Rogers).

Word count: 289 words.

Rating: Mature.

Summary: A mother will do anything for her children.

Major Tags: Dark themes, serial killer, mention of lost memories.

A/N: This is based on Longlegs.

Links: Wattpad, Ao3, Spanish version.

@saiyanprincessswanie

My native language is Spanish so I wanna improve my writing skills in English if you notice any mistakes, please let me know and I will correct them.

I don’t give any permission for my fics to be posted on other platforms or languages (I translate my work myself) or the use of my graphics (my dividers are included in this), I did them exclusively for my fics, please respect my work and don't steal it. There are some people here who make dividers that anyone can use, mine is not this type, please look for the other people. The only exception is the ones I gifted 'cuz now belong to someone else. Please let me know if you find any of my works on a different platform and are not one of my accounts. Reblogs and comments are always welcome.

DISCLAIMER: I don't own Marvel's characters (unfortunately), except for the original characters and the story.

Add yourself to my taglist here.

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There was a mystery that the Rogers twins had not yet solved; however, S.H.I.E.L.D. had left them in charge of a very peculiar mission that was going to take a turn that no one expected.

Steve couldn't help but have a recurring dream about something that maybe happened in his childhood or maybe not; it wasn't entirely clear, and he had no memory of that specific day either.

In that dream, he and his twin sister, Grace, were playing on the streets of Brooklyn, waiting for Bucky and Becca. Suddenly, a strange man approached Grace to tell her that she was “the almost-birthday girl” and handed her a doll identical to her. In turn, Steve receives a doll that looks just like him. However, the moment the man utters the phrase “You have a destiny,” the mood abruptly changes. The daylight goes out, and everything becomes dark and cold, leaving Steve with a sense of dread and confusion. Something is not right; he remembers his mother screaming.

But when he woke up, he didn't even remember them having such dolls in the house.

Grace, meanwhile, usually has a different dream; the same strange man from Steve's dream broke into her home, where her mother was cooking. The man reveals that Grace and Steve will die young due to their illnesses. In exchange for saving her children, the man offers Sarah a deal: to help him with a plan of which she doesn't understand the full implications. Although Sarah tries to resist, the anguish of losing her children leads her to accept the pact, promising that her children will grow to adulthood.

Though the twins have never told each other about those dreams, they may be more than just dreams.

[daddyslittlebunii]

Okay my favorite one has to be me being stalked and one night I just got out the shower and I noticed that there is kind of a chill a draft in the room kind of like the window was open but there wasn't any windows open I just kind of knocked it to me just getting out the shower so I continued on who's going to my room and putting on a baggy shirt and I noticed some of my clothes missing but again knocked it off too misplacing them then one night I was asleep when somebody came in through my window and slowly took off my clothes and covered my mouth as I slowly woke up as I started to panic and he cooed at me and said " be quite love heh originally wasn't going to do this but how could I resist when you decided not to wear panties tonigh fuuckk" He had on a mask I whined but kept quiet as he unbuttoned his pants and took them off taking out his cock stroking it while looking at my face as I couldn't help but to look at his cock I mean curiosity killed the cat but the cat has nine lives Right he proceeded to ask me " you'll be a good girl if I take my hand off your mouth right please please be a good girl for me right I really want to see Your face as I get off And fuck you Slut" I'm not as he removes his hands as he continues stroking his cock as I lick my lips as he smirks noticing that, not that I can see it I see them mutters "beautiful fucking whore" as he then proceeds to lift up my shirt looking at my boobs groping Them squeezing them Playing with the nipples Squeezing the nipples Earning a Wine whimper and moan Making him harder As he Lifts up the mess just a bit Not enough for me to see his face Due to him Leaning his face down When he does it As he spits on My chest And boobs Rubbing it all over them As I blush while the mask is still up and I still can't see his face he sucks on my nipples biting them as I moan and whimper squirming as he Chuckles and smirks getting the reaction he won't want it and so desperately needed he then stops list Trails of kisses As he moves all the way down to my pussy and sees it dripping wet and comments " hmm haha someone breaks into your house and they could kill you at any second and they're raping you right now and that turns you on fucking slut your pussy is so wet just from that mmm" he couldn't help himself and starts licking my pussy tasting me I mean if he is already doing this even if it wasn't his plan might as well go all out right as he starts fucking me with his tongue and fingers as I start screaming out as he watches my every reaction to it thriving and watching how my eyes roll back and every noise I make every sound it's better than what he hears in the cameras he set up in the apartment you know I'm about to cum and he speed ups as I cum on his tounge as he drinks all of it as he was no time slams his cock in and thrust in and out hearing me scream for him to stop its too big slow fow down but he doesn't he keeps fucking my tight pussy cooing at me at my face of pain knowing I'm loving itAs at this point I'm crying As he goes faster and harder As he loves seeing me in tears Fucking Until he satisfied He fucks me for An hour He cums in me and I'm fucked dumb he cleans me up and every trace of him and leavs

[nihilnovisubsole]

Gimme 18 and if it’s not an old man I’ll even applaud

hello!! sorry i'm a day or two late on this. it's hard to post at the same velocity when you're doing it on your breaks.

18. the character that gave you the most trouble writing this year?

i've got some half-finished original short stories that are like getting blood from a stone, but they're difficult because of research and plot, not character. no, i got into a whole other character predicament this year. one that probably involved biting off more than i could chew.

i find the prevailing style in shipfic is to spend the majority of time with the main pair, and other characters take much more minor supporting roles. i heard it a long time ago, actually: somebody i knew told me that my laser focus on writing only my pairings was holding my character voice skills back. i wouldn't go that far. i think it's a common mode in romance because the development of the main relationship is what the story is about. that's just logic. i imagine that logic goes double for stories where the writer explores the physical side of the relationship. i mean, we joke about PWP, but i'd wager most erotica readers aren't showing up for debates about tea forks first, if you get my drift.

when i drafted ideas for ffxiv stories over the past few months, i thought, "hey, this isn't for money or a deadline. i can afford to experiment." i knew i couldn't resist writing about royce and raubahn eventually, but i wanted platonic stories that highlighted her with other characters as well. it wasn't some kind of snobbish "gen fic over shipfic" deal. i just thought it'd be a fun challenge to make stuff Like It Is In The Game. the main story is about all kinds of different interpersonal bonds, and it's such a huge cast, i felt like i'd be leaving a lot on the table.

there's one complication to that. when you plan for an ensemble cast, you have to learn a deluge of new character voices all at once. urianger's pretty straightforward if you've taken a shakespeare class, but where are you putting y'shtola on her spectrum of sarcasm and bookishness? how is your dialogue walking the precarious tightrope of antiquated and modern that ffxiv's localization falls into? not to sound corporate or anything, but there's an onboarding process! it sure was easier when you only had to worry about getting the love interest right.

"so, ak, are you actually going to follow through with that challenge? are you going to finish any of those WIP stories and post them?" uhhh... we'll see!!

[soaps-hoe-141]

Back Together

Part 30

Pairing: Soap x Ghost

WC: 4.3k

Synopsis: Soap getting interrogated again

Warnings: Mentions of torture

Pain lanced through his arm, face sweating and red as he spread his fingers against the wishes of his mind. Bands were wrapped around each digit providing resistance to the action. His jaw tensed as he focused on his hand, staring at it and willing his fingers to spread apart faster, to spread apart more than they had the last time. Finally his hand was open as far as it would go and he let his fingers curl back in on themselves with a huff out of his lungs. "Good Sergeant, that's what we like to see. You're making amazing progress actually. Are you experiencing any pain?" He'd been turned over for the past few hours to his physical therapist, actually the same one that had worked with Ghost, or at least that's what the big man had told him.

She was pretty and caught his eye immediately from the other side of the big room, lifting his mouth in a smile that couldn't be seen. He'd leaned over to the Lieutenant next to him and whispered, "Could've mentioned she was attractive, Ghost. Gorgeous actually is probably a better word."

The look in the big man's eyes when he'd said that could have killed, almost wishing it had when he saw how tense his shoulders got, embarrassment running through him. Hazel eyes glared down at him and he felt as if it was cutting straight through the black balaclava he had donned that made him flinch backwards before Ghost had retorted with a gruff, "Hadn't noticed MacTavish." He wasn't exactly sure why the big man had been upset by his comment but it was very obvious that he was. Maybe the two had something going on? That wouldn't be that surprising actually, the both of them were attractive. Well he couldn't really speak for Ghost all that much when it came to what was under the mask but he knew what kind of reaction he had to the guy and he wasn't even gay so it stood to reason that most others would have had the same. Especially a woman who had undoubtedly touched the hard muscles hidden beneath dark clothes. What was hidden beneath those dark clothes?

It wasn't until she cleared her throat while he stared up at her face blankly that the world came back into focus. She asked again, "Is there any pain when you're doing your reps Sergeant?"

The voice in his mind said quickly 'Yes,' but he drowned that response in the ocean of his thoughts before answering "No, none at all. Feels good, almost like there was never any pain to begin with. You're doing great lass, never met a physical therapist like you. You should add more resistance next time, I can take it." He heard another rough grunt behind him and turned to find the Lieutenant’s eyes boring a hole through his skull. Eyes unreadable behind the mask until his mind clarified 'He knows.'

Knows what you stupid fucker? That he's lying? The woman narrowed her gaze at him so that when he turned back around with red ears she was giving him a look so full of skepticism he was sure she was about to call his bluff. But she couldn't see the pain on his face while he was doing reps. She couldn't see his red, sweating face and the tells that gave away his lie. Thankfully though she let it slide, electing to dismiss his suggestion, "No Sergeant MacTavish I'm not going to do that quite yet. We'll stick to the original recovery plan I gave you on your first week of PT."

Soap gave her a quick, charming smile, "Oh aye, of course lass." He didn't admit to her that not only had he not read through the PT guide he'd given her, he had yet to even open it. He would be damned if he was gonna let some piece of paper tell him what he could and couldn't do. Besides, Ghost had binged the entirety of the guide within the first hour the woman had laid it in his lap. He had his faithful friend by his side, what did he need to know everything for when the Lieutenant never left and he was watching every little move Soap made?

"Come on then, let me see you walk now Sergeant. Your limp has been getting better but I've got to make sure your other leg isn't over compensating." She watched him as he stood from the chair, thigh tensing painfully for a moment as it adjusted to the weight.

Quickly a smirk found his mouth, he couldn't help the facial expressions despite the knowledge she couldn't see them, and he shot her a look, "I'm pretty sure you're just trying to stare at my arse ma'am. You should be careful with that, not everyone is as nice about that sort of thing as me." Both her and Ghost gave quiet scoffs then and he chuckled a bit before he took a hesitant step forward. Balancing precariously on one leg he shifted his weight to the other, holding the position until he was sure he wasn't going to fall and hurried to take his next step.

By the time he'd taken his fifth a familiar voice caught his attention, "Your PT is getting cut short today. You have a meeting with command in an hour. Best go get dressed, Sergeant." The Captain was looking at him from where he was supposed to be walking to. Soap could feel his leg already wanting to give out, the last couple steps staring menacingly at him.

Quick nods were rattling his brain in his skull before he even knew what was happening. Price had warned him this would happen at some point and while he couldn't guarantee what exactly would go on in the meeting he'd given the Sergeant a fairly good idea. They wanted a mission report, a mission report that Soap couldn't provide because every file related to his capture and rescue had been sealed behind so much red tape it was impossible to cut through. And since he couldn't remember anything before the torture the best he could provide was a report on Ilya Barandin's interior decorating, sub-par at best, and his favorite kitchen knife. "Aye sir, I'll be there," the Scotsman didn't wait for Ghost or Price, just lifted his chin and continued his achingly slow pace out of the room and down the hall. He needed to get ready and he was going to do this one on his own, he could manage that at least.

‐----------

Soap stared at his reflection in the bathroom mirror, he hadn't taken the balaclava off since Ghost had given it to him unless he was taking a shower, and the second he'd turned the water off he had it on before he even grabbed the towel. The scent of pine and sweat had faded since, replaced by his own musk. He couldn't face command in this thing though, they'd have him shelved in a minute.

He reached for the hem of it, lifting it slowly until he could see the dark hairs on his neck where he hadn't shaved in weeks. His hand froze there, refusing to lift any further. It seemed his mind wasn't yet ready to look at the dead man again. "Mac na galla," he cursed at the unreasonable visage looking back at him through the eye holes.

Nearly the second the curse left his mouth the deep rumble came through the door, "What's wrong Soap?"

Blue eyes shifted down to the razor and shaving cream Major Allbright had given him before he answered, "Nothing Ghost, I'm fine." Silence was the only response he received, silence didn't sit well in his stomach though. He could feel the big man's eyes even through the wood, "I'm fine, Ghost." Still silence prevailed, making him swallow hard until finally he answered, "I still can't lift this damn thing ok?"

"Can I come in?" The Lieutenant asked and rather than answer Soap just turned the handle and watched the big man push into the bathroom filling the space both figuratively and literally. Hazel eyes flicked down to the razor sitting on the corner of the sink and then back up at the Sergeant. "You want to shave," it was a statement that Soap wasn't sure if the Lieutenant had meant as a question or not, so he gave a quick nod just in case. "The mask. You aren't wearing the mask when you meet with command." Another statement that Soap is almost positive requires an answer and so again he nods. "Can't shave without the mirror, can't look at yourself in the mirror, and you don't want to look like a homeless man while you are basically being interrogated again." Again Soap nodded to which Ghost said simply, "I'll shave you." And the big man grabbed the razor in his massive hand, both of their eyes meeting.

The words were so simplistic, so matter of fact and easily said that there was no room for refusal. So he nodded and his fingers picked at the hem of the mask, a mental block now rather than a physical one, before he mumbled through the fabric, "I ca- I cannae do it myself Ghost. Can you?" And so the big man did, grabbing the hem of balaclava and lifting it until the bottom half was layered over the top. It still covered his hair and forehead but left everything else exposed to the world again. Well to the big Lieutenant anyway. He felt his pulse quicken when he stepped a little closer, a bottle of shaving cream in one hand and the razor in the other.

The next step had his breath catching in his chest until the big man stopped and muttered, "It's ok. Hold out your hand, Soap." A scarred hand reached forward slowly, unsure what he had in mind but he hadn't been wrong before. Ghost lifted the can in his hand and sprayed some into his palm, the white foam filling his palm. When the blue eyes flicked up to him heavy with confusion the big man shrugged, "Don't have to touch you if you put that on for me." The corners of Soap's eyes crinkled and the corners of his mouth lifted in a smile before he quickly rubbed the smooth cream along his jaw, covering the thick growth that had accumulated there over the past however many weeks. When he was done Ghost handed him a towel to wipe his hands off before pointing to the closed toilet, "Sit down.  And be still Sergeant, I don't want to hurt you." Soap followed the instruction, taking a seat as the towel draped over his chest and the big man went to work with expert hands.

The man worked quickly and without so much as a word, his gaze burning Soap's cheek red. When Ghost finally gave him the ok he was surprised that it was over already. A fresh towel was handed to him to wipe the last streaks of the white foam off his face. Soap didn't dare to look in the mirror, he'd lose his resolve if he did. Instead he ran a hand over the freshly shaved skin and looked up at Ghost, "How do I look?"

The big man took a moment, looking up and down his military uniform, not the formal one but his combat uniform with his last name printed on the front pocket. And then he seemed to inspect each individual feature of his face, every scar and every out of place hair. It made his cheeks go hot, being under such scrutiny from the man he'd been nearly living with for however long he'd been in the hospital was a bit unnerving. Soap sucked in a breath when the Lieutenant reached for him until he felt the mask pull off the top of his head and finally, fucking finally, the man said, "You look great Soap." It was such simple praise but it had his heart racing, some inner part of him screaming with satisfaction upon receiving a compliment from the quiet onlooker of his team.

"Thanks, Ghost," The balaclava-clad head nodded in answer. "Wish me luck aye Lieutenant? Here's hoping they stick to the shite I can remember, or they somehow jog my memory so I've got the answers they want." The big man gave a quick huff of agreement as he followed Soap out of the bathroom and across the base at the excruciating pace of a snail and the even worse pain that seared through the muscles of his stiff leg.

-------

His scream echoed from the speakers around them. Soap swallowed hard as he watched the ISR footage that Laswell and Watcher had been privy to during his capture. He hadn't expected them to just show him the footage that had been hidden from all of them. Memories were flooding back now, the bullets flying just wide of his head and smacking into the trees around him. The cacophony of dogs howling and barking seeming to come from every direction. A voice that shook with pain came through then, sweat beaded up on his brow as he listened to his own voice that sounded so foreign to his ears. He'd been so scared, he remembered that now, convinced he was going to die right then and there. Yet still he had been so focused on the mission, taking the time to send Laswell’s pictures when he had only one leg to stand on. Men fell at the fire of his sniper rifle before Laswell confirmed she had received them. Telling him, near begging him really, to leave and get out of there. People were flooding into the trees in front of him now, and that man, the dead man, asked for a favor, "If ya don't mind, tell Ghost I really did mean to have that chat yeah?"

Chat? What chat was he talking about? And why was it so important he felt the need to use what he thought were his last words to say it? Suddenly anger slapped him in the face, turning his stomach into knots and bringing a white hot rage to his memory as the loud engine of a plane roared behind him and the big man stood in front of him. Surprise was set in those hazel eyes, he'd said something. What had he said? Why did it make him so angry? His mind sifted through the pieces of his memory coming up with nothing, not a single explanation. What could that man have said to make him so pissed off? "No you don't get to do that to me. Not to me, not right now. Christ Ghost." What? What had he done? Quit telling me the aftermath, tell me what the fuck actually happened? But it was like beating a dead horse, it did nothing. The memories danced just out of reach and merely made more rage well up in his mind.

At least until a second scream came through the speakers and his eyes found the recording again watching a dog latch onto his thigh. His leg ached at the memory, subconsciously running his hand over the wounds that had been left there. His loud curse at the third dog came through then. He watched himself stop staring at a line of weapons before the animal was on his back and tearing at the flesh of his shoulder. Scarred hands shook at the memory of the pain until he balled them into fists and pressed them into his thighs, ignoring the pain that raged. It was easier to ignore pain in the present than pain in a memory it seemed. When the flash went off a few feet in front of him the connection of both the audio and video began to go in and out. The quick glimpse of a man in his memory and in the footage before the audio went out completely.

Men dragged his body into a vehicle, the video footage only becoming more stable when the man that had knocked him out had long since disappeared. The brigadier stopped the recording and turned his hard gaze back to him. Soap returned the even stare forcing himself to forget about the scars that littered his face, and thankful for the chair he'd been given. He'd barely made it all the way here and he certainly couldn't have made it through that whole video trying to stand. "Sergeant MacTavish, you've been reported by medical staff to have severe memory loss, do you recall the events I just showed you?"

Immediately he nodded with a quick, "Yes sir I remember. I remember more every day sir. It comes back in pieces."

The brigadier nodded and wrote something down before looking back up at him and asking, "Can you remember who the man was after you threw your flash? The one at the end of the video?"

Soap saw the face flash momentarily in his mind. He'd been so hard to see then as he reeled from his own flashbang. There was a hesitant nod from him until the commanding officer raised a brow and he answered, "It's hard to remember sir. The flashbang had already made my head a bit foggy."

Again there was a nod and some note taking before he launched more questions about the initial capturing and why he made the decisions he did. Whether he thought he could have done better under the circumstances and making him question everything the man in his memories had done in an attempt to get back safely. It wasn't until the brigadier asked, "And what about your captivity Sergeant? The videos have been pulled off the internet as best as we could manage but that was all we know of what was done to you. Can you tell us about the interrogation tactics used by Ilya Barandin, the questions he asked, and the answers you gave him?"

It took a moment to stop the pulse that tried to pick up. Not now, he could make it through this at least. "Yes sir. I'm unsure how long I was actually held but I do remember that I was held in a dark room. No light or anything. Subjected to temperatures below freezing for hours while wet and with barely any clothes. At least it felt like hours. In between my time in there I was in that room from the videos. He would use this chemical, I don't know what it was sir but it made you feel like fire on the inside. He used the screws," pain flared in his hands at the memory but he ignored it, "a knife, a metal pipe, and he heated up some metal one time and burned my back with it." Control was slipping through his fingers, it took every ounce of energy to keep a neutral expression on his face. Breaking down wasn't an option, not here. This was as much an AAR as it was his command trying to decide whether he could be redeployed following the trauma he'd suffered. Clearing his throat he continued, "He didn't exactly want information from what I could tell though sir. Got the feeling he didn't really need it. The only thing he asked was where Suheil was, he wanted him back and he wanted him bad sir."

The entire time he spoke the man wrote, the other two members beside the man watching him closely. He got the feeling they were judging his reactions, trying to find his trigger points and he'd be damned if they found what they were looking for. Finally the brigadier looked back up, "One last thing Sergeant." Soap nodded and sat up in his chair a bit taller before he asked, "Can you explain this video for us please?" He hit the play button again and the image of him in a hospital bed began to play. He was sitting up and staring at a woman who was throwing questions in his face. 'John,' he remembered her saying and his entire body began to sting at the name as he watched her near him in the bed until her hand neared his arm and she touched him. The warmth flooded his memory, 'No it's not happening, stay calm, keep it together.' His hand grabbed her and jerked her forward where his forehead slammed into her nose with a sickening sound.

Dry mouth and dry throat swallowed down nothing as he scrambled off the bed and then the door slammed open and Ghost's mask came into view. The big man grabbed the camera guy pulling him out of the room, before he grabbed the woman and threw her out as well. The Lieutenant seemed to notice something then and stepped closer, eyes full of rage as he stared at the man before his hand wrapped around the end of the camera. The last image the camera caught was the shocked look on both of their faces and the blood pouring down the woman's face before it shattered against the wall.

Blue eyes flicked back to the brigadier before he stammered out, "I don't know what you're looking for sir but I was just defending myself. She shouldn't have even been in that room." There was worry in his gaze, that his answer wouldn't be enough even if it had been mostly true.

The commanding officer nodded quietly as he wrote something down and flipped to the image of a man with bruises across his swollen neck. "And this one, Sergeant MacTavish?"

"Fuckin hell," brows from the entire panel rose at his curse before he looked down at his hands and took a second before answering, "I'm sorry. I had just woken up sir. I thought he was the enemy when I first came round and I acted how I was trained to sir."

The eyes watching him narrowed, trying to break through the constructed facade he had donned, "You were trained to nearly kill an unarmed man and then lock yourself in a bathroom Sergeant MacTavish."

Indignance flared in his mind, jaw tensing as a feeling of rage once more roared into his mind. He'd been sedated against his will, and woken to somebody touching his body. How was he supposed to react? Rationally? He didn't even fuckin remember who he was at that point. Don't show the anger, don't show them anything, just answer. "I was attempting to separate myself from the enemy sir. It was a hard decision to make but there were men between me and my other escape route while I had a bad leg, a bad shoulder, and my hands could barely work. It was a moment of reprieve I needed at that moment sir."

The man looked almost…satisfied? Was that satisfaction? Fuckin hell he sure as shit hoped it was a satisfying answer. Finally the brigadier answered, "Ok Sergeant MacTavish, you're dismissed. You are going to be required to speak to a psychiatrist, a psychologist, and finish out your physical therapy that you've been assigned. When you've been cleared by them you are free to return to service in the Royal Army under Captain John Price's command." That was Price's first name? It sent a shiver through his spine and it wasn't even referencing him. "Assuming you are ever cleared medically anyway. Is that satisfactory Sergeant?"

"Yes sir," the words came out in a quick sigh of relief before he stood up out of the chair and left. He would be cleared medically, a few papers were not going to stand in his way, not now.

Ghost was waiting for him outside, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed. The memory of rage at him clouded his thoughts, why had he been so mad at the man? It didn't make sense. Ghost had been nothing but a loyal friend this whole damn time, what the hell could have possibly happened to make him so mad.

The Lieutenant stood up off the wall, head tilting slightly as he asked, "You ok?" He tried to hide it, that much Soap could see, but there was a worried look hiding in those eyes. That maybe he'd not gotten the news they were both hoping for.

No, was all he could think for a second, he felt like he'd been drained from his very soul. The emotions he'd been keeping bricked up behind the dam were aching to seep through and his throat was still dry. Rather than answer he just shook his head, he couldn't even summon the energy to speak for a moment he felt so exhausted.

Emotions flashed through those eyes that he couldn't identify before Ghost turned towards the door. His gaze was dark, hand grabbing the handle about to go and do something that they would both regret. Soap wasn't sure what it was the Lieutenant would do but he knew the way the look in those eyes made nervous energy flare up. His hand darted out, fingers wrapping around a forearm and halting the big man in an instant. Ghost turned back, eyes shifting down slowly to where Soap was holding him in an iron grip. The first time that the man had touched anyone willingly since he'd been back. It only took a moment for Soap to realize what he'd done and he pulled his hand back like he'd just touched the stove and it took a second to realize that his hand was burning. Finally he managed to croak out in a quiet mutter, "Please take me home, Ghost."

It didn't even take a second before the big man responded, "Ok." His hand released the door as he turned on his heel and led him down the hall and out the doors. It seemed the Lieutenant was breaking him out of these maddening white walls and finally getting him out into the fresh air.

[averys-happy-space]

miri's anxious attachment style in ep 2

this post ended up being WAY longer than planned so everythings going under the read more but i promise this is like, more than just the insane ramblings of an obsessed fan. tldr; miri got attached to kazuki and rei so quickly bc she's been heavily neglected by misaki and it shows. and also misaki's life is a fucking tragedy.

so im rewatching bd in prep for the last ep and i noticed something. in ep 2, at the beginning, kazuki and rei go out to see kyu to ask about miri's origins and where her mom is. in doing so, they leave miri in the house alone, and miri has no qualms about this. kazuki simply has to turn on the tv show and miri happily dances along, allowing them to leave without resistance.

when they come home, she's turned the place upside down. when kazuki and rei find miri upstairs, she's playing hide & seek and says kazuki is it now before running away, with kazuki chasing after her. then, it cuts to them having dinner and miri, again, prompts kazuki to play hide and seek with her which he (unwillingly) obliges. though once kazuki moves back to discussing work with rei, miri makes an angry pout (its really cute lol).

the next day, when they try to leave, miri is suddenly very very attached and refuses to let them go. despite kazuki's bribe of sodas and sweets, she makes a big fuss, crying loudly enough to attract a neighbour to check on them. this is a stark contrast to the day before where she was satisfied to stay at home with just the tv running.

this is a very depressing thought, but i think miri got so attached so quickly because it was the first time in her life that she's ever been shown attention beyond what was necessary. misaki likely never played with miri or showed any interest in entertaining her beyond just putting on the tv so miri would stop bothering her, hence why initially miri was so easily subdued by the tv show. however, now that she's with kazuki, he's suddenly showing her tons of attention, chasing her all around the house and playing hide and seek with her. he's very good, too, as rei points out, which means miri never has to wait in one spot for long periods of time. if miri ever asked misaki to play hide and seek, it's likely misaki would send her off to hide and then just... leave, instead of looking for her, because she couldn't be bothered. so kazuki being so good at seeking makes it that much more fun, because miri's never been found before.

and when it's the first time ever that you've been shown so much attention, after being deprived of it for your entire life, it's no wonder miri got so attached so quickly. even though kazuki wasn't willingly playing hide and seek with her - he was just trying to catch her to make her sit still - he still played, which is likely more than can be said for misaki. which explains why, when kazuki and rei try to leave the next day, miri is suddenly a sobbing mess demanding to follow them. she doesn't want to lose this attention. it's new and it's nice and it's fun, so of course she makes a fuss. she's scared if she lets them leave, they might not come back. she might lose this little bit of fun that she's gotten.

this does, of course, reflect very badly on misaki and just adds more evidence to the fact that she was likely a neglectful parent. and to some degree, i get it. i know misaki's life massively sucked and she probably just didn't have the energy to play with miri, especially since miri is so lively and energetic all the time and misaki was probably working herself down to the bone trying to provide for the two of them, while also getting the shit beaten out of her by her abusive boyfriend. but it's just so... tragic.

like, man. when misaki says in ep 11 that she's sorry for making miri so lonely to the point of becoming attached to kazuki and rei, yes it's selfish and dismissive but it's also right. miri was lonely and she did become overly attached too quickly. it literally only took a single day. but that doesn't diminish the fact that kazuki and rei gave miri more attention than misaki ever did in the past, and they gave her a happier life than misaki could, and miri's bond with them became so much deeper than her love for misaki.

and that breaks my damn heart!!!!! god. i do believe that, if misaki had been more secure and comfortable, she could've given miri a happier life. but she didn't have that. and it's a fucking travesty. because i know if miri did have that happy life, if misaki's life had been successful and fulfilling, if she'd been able to provide for the two of them, then miri never would have met kazuki and rei. misaki's suffering was necessary to push miri's life in this direction. and it's just.!!!! my heart is broken, it's been torn into a thousand pieces, and it's been irreparably damaged by this god damn show.

man. i never caught this before, this is literally my 3rd time watching the show. but i remember reading a post about miri's anxious attachment style - which i wanted to reblog with all these thoughts but i couldn't find it ): - and it made me become more aware of this idea of miri having an anxious attachment style. which is the reason i watched miri's behaviour more closely on this rewatch and ended up noticing the change in her attitude. these subtleties in the writing go so deep and it's all thanks to reading tons of tumblr analysis that i've become more attentive to what's being portrayed in bd. and it's just made me appreciate the show so much more.

anyway who hype for the last ep of bd!!! (im not. im so not fucking ready. i dont want the show to end......... im literally gonna cry and i know it)

[pesterloglog]

Harry Anderson Egbert, Vriska Serket, Vrissy Maryam-Lalonde, John Egbert, Tavros Crocker

Page 195-196

DO YOU LAND ON YOUR FEET ARE YOU TENSE WHEN YOU SENSE THERE'S A STORM IN THE AIR

HARRY: ok everyone, my dad's calling.

HARRY: if he finds out you're here then he will definitely put two and two together, so PLEASE just keep quiet and let me do the talking.

VRISKA: Sure thing.

HARRY: er,

HARRY: hi dad.

VRISKA: HI JOHN!!!!!!!!

VRISSY: Hi Mister Eg8ert!!!!!!!!!

HARRY: oh god dammit.

HARRY: um.

HARRY: so.

HARRY: i guess.

HARRY: first of all,

JOHN: HELLO SON!

JOHN: I AM

JOHN: SO

JOHN: VERY

JOHN: PROUD OF YOU!!!!!!!!

HARRY:

JOHN: PHEW, that felt good to say.

JOHN: or to yell, i guess. heheh.

JOHN: sorry about that, harry anderson.

JOHN: i just didn't think i'd be seeing your handiwork all over the news quite so soon!

HARRY: so...

HARRY: you know about it.

JOHN: yep! you think i wouldn't have recognized your school?

HARRY: right... and you're not like... mad? about the dead body and vriska and stuff?

JOHN: son,

JOHN: it looks like you tried to pull one of the biggest pranks i can think of.

JOHN: and it backfired!

HARRY: y... yeah.

JOHN: but that's ok!!!

JOHN: it could have happened to the best of us.

JOHN: ok, so maybe it wasn't the most original idea.

JOHN: and you should probably have steered clear of such a blatant nod to weekend at bernie's without seriously planning some of the logistics in advance.

JOHN: i know that they make it seem so easy in that movie, but it's important to remember that not everything on the big screen translates easily to real life.

JOHN: ESPECIALLY when dead bodies and clowns are concerned.

JOHN: but these are all mistakes that any amateur prank master has to make some time.

JOHN: and besides, you managed to keep quiet about it the whole time we were chatting earlier. i was completely fooled!

JOHN: but you had to get one up on the prankster's gambit against me someday. honestly, it feels like an early birthday present or something!

JOHN: so i guess what i'm saying is that... you should be proud of yourself.

HARRY: ok dad.

HARRY: um, thanks.

JOHN: so. you're still at your mother's house?

HARRY: yeah... i couldn't think where else to go.

HARRY: you obviously just heard, but both vriskas are here. tavros too.

HARRY: i think the girls are fighting? i don't really know. it's very confusing due to the fact that there are... well.

JOHN: two of them?

HARRY: yeah.

HARRY: i think two vriskas is more than enough for anybody.

JOHN: heh. two vriskas is NOTHING.

JOHN: when i was your age i lost count of all the vriskas i had to keep track of.

JOHN: it was probably some preposterous number.

HARRY: hahaha.

JOHN: and tavros? is he ok?

HARRY: i think so.

HARRY: he seems his, uh,, usual self,,,

JOHN: now, harry anderson, i know that you and tavros haven't always gotten along.

JOHN: but i am going to have to ask you to try and look out for him for the time being.

JOHN: your uncle jake and i... well, i'll explain later.

JOHN: let's just say that gamzee isn't the only family member jane is losing today.

HARRY: dad... if you wanted me to KILL tavros, you only had to ask.

TAVROS: (Um,,,)

HARRY: couldn't resist.

JOHN: can you see out of the window?

HARRY: yeah, i'm looking right now. the place is heaving with reporters.

JOHN: i thought so. the press didn't take long to come to the same conclusion i did. you're on the news already.

JOHN: and it's the same story here. people with cameras are crawling all over the yard.

JOHN: which means jane's secret police are there too. the drones won't be far behind.

HARRY: oh fuck.

HARRY: sorry, i mean. oh... farts.

JOHN: harry anderson egbert.

JOHN: the word "fuck" was invented for moments like this.

HARRY: haha?

JOHN: but anyway, you need to get out of there, fast.

JOHN: try to create some kind of distraction or something, and then head for the bell tower.

HARRY: you mean the one they hang the dirk strider memorial effigy from every year?

JOHN: yes, that's the place.

JOHN: i'll meet you guys up there.

HARRY: um,

HARRY: ok dad.

JOHN: oh, and harry?

JOHN: just some small pieces of advice.

JOHN: some guidelines that any budding prankster or newly fledged fugitive should know.

JOHN: don't panic,

JOHN: don't make a scene,

JOHN: and whatever you do...

JOHN: don't get caught!!

[from-ultra-space]

Nori’s Trust: a Tale from Osmund

This is Nori’s Stories 3 (NS is a collection of little short stories and Drabbles that talk about Nori or his friends. You can read them out of order it’s not a problem but the others are linked in the pinned post) this one is from the point of view of Osmund Phoris as she talks about Nori’s relationship with his partner, and a little about how they became separated.

Her name was Ulva Cassius and unlike Nori she was a rebel. When the two first met no one was quite sure what would happen given how different the two were, but it turns out opposites attract. More than attract even, the two were inseparable.

Where one knew common sense, the other knew bravery and self-care. When one knew what to do, the other knew how to do it. Together they could tackle any task, any danger, any expedition.

Ulva was always the one who owned a situation. She was strong, in charge, and learned quickly. If there was ever a problem she was the first to find it and eliminate it. In fact, when the concept of pokemon battles was originally brought back to U-Meg she was the first to get the hang of it. Everything she tried broke tradition and expanded horizons… when it worked.

Nori, on the other hand, was quiet and careful. He was curious and organized, with his notes detailing every test, outcome, and new question. He excelled at utilizing his resources and knowledge to help others, just as we had helped him.

They looked out for each other, both in the field and in the city. There were a few close calls but for the most part Nori's preparedness and Ulva's quick thinking kept casualties (physical and social) to a minimum.

However, it couldn't always last. I remember it fairly well, mostly because it wasn't too often that Nori scheduled private training sessions. It took a little bit of convincing but a few minutes and some form corrections he relented.

"Osmund," Nori said softly, "I am not quite sure if it's a good idea."

"Oh?" I asked as I set up equipment for mobility training. "I thought you were the first to suggest this plan after Lusamine's actions."

Nori sighed in frustration, probably at himself. "Yes, and it is not that Ulva can't handle it but…"

"You're starting to think it might not be worth the risk." I supplied.

"Yes."

"And you don't want to be alone, and you don't want her to be alone."

"...yes."

"Then tell me Nori, why did you suggest it, and why is Phyco going through with it?"

Nori set down the weights he was moving and thought for a while. Occasionally I would see him furrow his eyebrows and shake his head but I let the right answer come to him. It always did.

"Because, " he finally said, "the best way to strengthen your own argument is to know your enemy's. No matter who we talk to, we'll get biased information, so we collect the data ourselves. Once we compare we should have an accurate conclusion."

I smiled, simply because I knew our future would be in good hands.

Nori continued, "Ulva is the only person skilled enough to be in those kinds of situations. She's fast and strong and she can get herself out of bad spots. I know she can hold her own in a fight."

Then I asked the simplest question in the world, "Do you trust her?" Yet Nori smiled with such confidence I couldn't have resisted.

"With my life." he replied "and I have already done that far too many times."

[meritatem]

Once upon a time, Damian had an unfortunate encounter with Dubbilex while helping Supergirl. Despite his training, he was still behind his father when it came to resist mental manipulation and so, in order to break him, Dubbilex showed him where his worst fears laid: family and allies fallen under his feet, with his mother at his side, proud of him. It should've been a valuable lesson about himself, something enlightening that should've helped him to gain a better understanding of what he wanted from life, a starting line. Instead, he ignored it.

He couldn't keep ignoring it when he landed on the future and that scenario wasn't just a vision, but the brutal reality. Everybody was gone, his mother included. Ra's was the only one left and by the time Damian figured out how to get back, even his grandfather had beginning to beg for death.

While he worked to undo his mistake, he started, at some point, to conjure in his imagination versions of the long departed; he did it in an attempt to not lost his mind, even if, as time went on, it began to feel like the complete opposite. Pathetic lost robin, sometimes his own voice would said over the others, talking to make-believe ghosts.

It had been so ironic then, how much Damian talked to the Brown living in his mind, when the real one barely had any success in her efforts to make him open up. His biggest realization about Stephanie was recognizing how alike they had been at the time. Both of them were carrying heavy legacies on their shoulders, while failing to be what was expected of the identities they took: a chaotic Batgirl and a joyless Robin... but even then, Barbara and Dick had enough faith to pass on their names.  

Despite the fact that Damian will always think that being Robin was the best thing he had ever done, the truth was that he never believed he deserved it nor that he was adequate for it. And on occasion, when he talked to that imaginary Brown that sometimes presented in front of him wearing her Batgirl suit, he asked if she felt like that too.

Damian couldn't do anything about his regrets regarding Robin anymore, but he could do something for Stephanie.

That's why he originally planned to approach Gordon to offer his help in training Brown. Of course he was envisioning nothing but rejection at first, but Damian had no problems with being relentless and using any method at his disposition to make Barbara agree with him. Being presented with the possibility of jumping the cue in front of Gordon was too good to let it pass, because convincing Brown seemed like an easier task than persuading the first Batgirl.

With that idea in mind, he promised to keep quiet about Stephanie if she agreed to meet him the next day just to talk. Part of him was expecting for her to not show up, even when Stephanie seemed more willing after he told her that Pennyworth was going to be present, but luckily - because it meant he wasn't going to have to track Brown at her school again -, she was exactly in the spot where he told her to be, in the corner of an ordinary street, in the middle of the day.

The car Pennyworth was driving was pretty unremarkable, just one of the many in the lineup they had to move around the city without problems, so it was understandable for Stephanie to be confused when it stopped in front of her. The confusion disappeared as soon as Alfred lowered the tinted window, enough for her to get a good look at him.

“Good afternoon, Miss Stephanie.” He said, polite as ever.

“It is you!” She exclaimed, putting her right hand in the middle of her chest. “Thank god,” and she let out a deep breath. “You have no idea how happy I am to see you!”

“Rest assured, the feeling is entirely mutual, miss, I only wish this meeting was under different circumstances.”

“Yeah, no kidding, I really wasn't—oh!” She interrupted herself from what she was saying when the rear door abruptly opened, making her move to avoid getting hit.

“Enough chitchatting, get inside.”

Damian retreated to the right side, making space for Stephanie, who approached tentatively, placing a hand on the door's window and crouching low enough to peek inside, where Damian simply gave her an unenthusiastic look and after a few seconds of hesitation, she finally got in, closing the door behind her.

“Brown.” He greeted, with a small nod.

“Yes, hello, uhm,” she went silent for a second, looking briefly unsure. “Okay, I know Tim told me your name but I forgot. To be honest I was paying more attention to the part where you tried to kill him.”

Ah, classic Drake, always singing Damian's praises.

He made himself more comfortable, crossing his arms while Alfred started the car again. “It was a misunderstanding,” Damian said mechanically. “I grew up somewhere with well-defined rules and a rigid hierarchy system. While living there, I was expected to prove myself by removing anyone in a position I wished to occupy. I understand now that the outside world doesn't work like that, so worry not, I won't make the same mistake again, you have nothing to fear from me.”

“Those were a lot of words just now.”

“I consider myself a wordsmith, you'll get used to it.” Damian's arms were crossed, but after some contemplative seconds, he decided to uncross them to offer his hand in greeting. “I'm Damian.”

Brown eyed his hand like she was trying to find a hidden weapon, but ultimately she took it, giving it a firm shake despite everything. “Nice to meet you, again? You can call me Stephanie.” Damian just crossed his arms again, not adding anything else. “Okay, so, you didn't tell Barbara or Tim, right?”

“I didn't.”

“That's great!” But her expression didn't match her forced enthusiasm. “But why do you wanted to talk to me? Don't get me wrong, I love meeting new people but usually there's less blackmail involved.”

“I want to clarify some things, for a start. Where did you get the suit?”

“I didn't steal it if that's what you're implying,” and she was the one crossing her arms now, defensive. “Cass just... left it behind. She said she was fighting for Bruce but, you know, he's not here anymore so the fight is mine now, I guess.”

Damian kept silent, pondering this new information but deciding to left it for later. He took a deep breath, briefly thinking he'll have to get rid of that habit sooner or later and spoke as apathetic as he could. “You are undisciplined, unprepared and unimpressive.”

“Hey!” Was the instant complain.

“I understand Batgirl works as a separate entity from Batman, but it would be negligent of me to let you go into this battle of his as you are now.”

“What's that even supposed to mean?”

Alfred chose that moment to clear his throat before joining the conversation. “Master Damian believes in preserving his father's legacy. He also believes that said legacy doesn't live in aliases and masks, but people.”

“Tt!” He expressed with displeasure. “What Pennyworth is trying to say with unnecessary sentimentalisms, is that my father dragged people he shouldn't have into his war and it falls on me to take responsibility.” He made sure to look Stephanie directly in the eyes, trying to convey the importance of his next words. “You need direction, support and proper training. All of those I can provide.”

Stephanie frowned, looking stunned. She opened her mouth with a breath as to say something but closed it almost instantly, stopping herself.

At the sudden silence, Pennyworth interceded again. “Don't be fooled, Miss Stephanie, despite his age, Master Damian is a very skillful young man of keen intellect. I wholly and solely believe there's benefit to be gain, should you accept his proposal.”

Brown, properly dumbfounded, turned her head trying to catch Alfred's eyes in the rear-view mirror, but he was focused on the road; not knowing what else to do, she directed her gaze back to Damian, who only raised an eyebrow, nonchalant.

“Thank you for the offer but no thanks?” She finally uttered, at a loss. “No offense, I just don't see how that could it work, besides I really don't want Tim to know about this, I promised him I was going to stop with the vigilante stuff.”

“You seem to be under the wrong impression that I answer to Drake or Grayson. This is a private matter, Pennyworth will keep silent about it and so will I.”

Stephanie turned again to the front, vaguely gesturing towards Damian with her right hand with incredulity. “Alfred, are you reeally okay with that?”

Alfred took some seconds before answering, steady and composed. “Dick and Tim—“ he started with unusual informality. “Are in a very demanding position right now. No amount of years protecting this city would've prepared them for this ordeal, and the only thing we can do is to ease their hardships in any way we are able.” Alfred's voice stayed calm, conversational, like he was just making small talk instead and not about the difficulties they were facing. “I know by experience that we cannot stop you if your mind is truly set on this. Let us help instead.”

Damian hoped that Pennyworth's succinct words were more convincing than his, but it was hard to tell giving the fact that Brown still looked like a confused forest animal in the middle of the highway. In a way, it was entertaining seeing Brown like this, when he was used to her acting with more bravado, but he supposed she hasn't found her footing yet.

“How long has it been since Cain gave you the suit?”

Stephanie looked away, purposely avoiding Damian's eyes, which tell him everything he needed to know. “Like a... two weeks, technically.”

That explained why Brown seemed to be fumbling with her new role much more than he remembered. On the other hand, he had to commend Cain for remaining undetected, because just as he had been in the lookout for Todd, he searched for Cassandra too, coming to the conclusion that she must've left the city long before they moved to the penthouse. Knowing she had been there as recently as a week ago - more or less -, made him a bit unsatisfied with himself, because if he had known she was in the city, he would've redoubled his attempts to find her. Despite the missed chance, Damian knew he'd see her again and luckily for him, from all of his father's hellions, she was the only one he didn't need to worry about.

“Take your time and think about my offer,” he said almost as a dismissal, suddenly becoming more interested with looking at the window. “I don't require an answer today, but I do expect one eventually.” Almost coinciding with the finality of his words, the car gently stopped. “We're here.”

Promptly alert, Stephanie straightened in her seat, turning from side to side trying to recognize where they were. “Here where?”

“Antonella's Ice Cream Parlor.” Without waiting for an answer, Damian opened the door next to him. “Hurry up and get out, Pennyworth needs to park the car before joining us.”

“Ahm,” as it seemed to be her demeanor for this day, Brown hesitated for an instant before speaking. “At the ice cream place?”

“Of course.” He said it like it was the most obvious thing.

“Are we actually going in there? Like, to get ice cream?”

“I know my father attempted to train you,” he said, expression bored. “Don't make him the disservice of asking these kind of questions.”

“You could've just said yes,” Stephanie rolled her eyes. “And why are we getting ice cream? Are you doing field work right now?”

“No. We just had an uneasy talk for you, something to lift your spirits is due.”

For the second time Stephanie tried to say something while stopping before even uttering the first word, however her stupefaction was short-lived, because with jolt she started dragging herself towards Damian, who stepped aside to get out of her way.

“You know what? Fuck it! Let's get ice cream.”

“Miss Stephanie,” Alfred chastised swiftly. “Language, please.”  

“I know, sorry, sorry,” she said with a more lively tone than the one she had been using until that point. “Hope you know you're totally paying.” She announced to Damian as soon as she put the first foot outside.

“Obviously.”

“And I'm ordering the most expensive thing they have. Twice.”

“Naturally.”

When Brown finally stood next to Damian, she crossed her arms and watched in silence while the car drove away. “This is not how I was expecting this meeting to go.”

“The world is full of wonder.”

Damian's flat delivery made Stephanie's lips tremble slightly before succumbing to a smile given the ridiculous of her situation. “You're a strange little man.”

Unlike other times when Damian was called little, he decided not to take offense just this once, because at least Brown didn't call him a kid for a change.

The dreadful waiting for the opening of exhibition came to an end on a sunny Thursday.

Damian had not been stressing over this casual outing, that would be immature from his part... he was simply preoccupied with all the possibilities that could unfold during their time in the museum. He kept that to himself, choosing not to bother Pennyworth with it, given the fact that the man was already busy helping him with more important tasks, so whatever Damian's feelings were about this, they were at the most, frivolous.

Still, while he was getting ready, he wished he could tell Colin more about the not so heroic parts of his life. He wasn't in need of guidance, but he wanted to complain about the things he had to tolerate thanks to the fools his father welcomed in his folly; Jon had been so good at that, just hearing his grievances, even if most of the time he wasn't on his side of the argument. It was humorous, in a very mirthless way, how Damian spent all his life acting like he was above needing a friend to share his thoughts with and now here he was, longing for something so insignificant like having someone to tell that Grayson was an oaf. The irony of his circumstances, as always, didn't escape him. Fae contracts and Faustian deals.

He finished getting ready early than he intended, since he was eager to be done with this nonsense as soon as possible. Sadly, he was the only one in an imaginary hurry, so after sending Grayson a message stating he'll wait for him in the living room, once he was there, he went directly to the one armchair that was nearest to the window, deciding this was a good opportunity as any to take a dive into Todd's reading recommendation, choosing to start with Flower Fables. He was halfway the third tale, when he heard the murmur of voices he recognized as those of Alfred and Dick, becoming more clearer as they approached where he was.

Damian had been holding a bookmark between his left index and middle fingers, finally placing it on the page where he stopped reading, before closing the book and getting up, taking a few steps to leave it on the center table, crossing his arms behind his back almost at the same time Grayson and Pennyworth entered his field of vision.  

He gave Dick a once-over, arching his brows with something akin to disapproval. “You look like a Philosophy student. Disgraceful.”

All in all, Grayson's attire was acceptable, just casual clothing, with the only remarkable things being the fact that he was using a blond wig - with matching eyebrows -, under a beanie hat and glasses with a wide frame. It wasn't the worst attempt at a disguise he had seen from him, but it wasn't impressive either.

“I'll pretend I don't know you, so please stay six feet away from me.”

Inevitably, Dick cracked a smile at this. “You get meaner each day. And here I was about to compliment your outfit,” he turned to his side, looking at Alfred with amusement. “How much did you have to bribe him to put him on that?”

Alfred arched a single brow, his expression remaining neutral. “Master Damian dresses himself, I'd be concerned if he didn't at his age.”

“Uh,” for a moment he seemed surprised, but soon enough he was smiling again. “I should've seen this one coming. You finally got your wish, eh?”

“Good things come to those who wait, sir.”

Damian frowned, caving in and looking down to make sure the clothes he was wearing didn't magically change- stranger things have happened, after all -, but no, the black dress shoes, slacks and tie were still the same, just like the dark green V-neck sweater and the light grey button-up shirt underneath it.

“What's so noteworthy about my attire?” He asked, not knowing if he should feel affronted.

Most of his life, when it came to clothes, Damian had been more worried about their usefulness and practicality than anything else. In the past, Pennyworth used to be the one in charge of buying his clothes, leaving Damian with the choice to wear whatever he wanted, with the rare exceptions when some social gathering required a specific dress code.

Damian's interest in his own wardrobe changed after spending years being chained to a Batman suit, with some days feeling like the bat symbol was burning his chest through the layers of armor. Now that he was better established, just like he started to occupied himself with cooking and books, he decided to spare some of that effort for the contents of his closet. Nevertheless, he didn't feel that Pennyworth's initial selection varied drastically from the clothes he end up choosing for himself; he thought long about the kind of garments he had been more comfortable with, in his early years on Gotham and from there, he just picked things that he liked in those styles. Overall, just frivolous stuff that he only was paying attention to now, because he was committed to find out the mundane things he overlooked in his past life, if one could call it that. That's why he didn't understand the sudden fuss about some clothes he personally bought.

“Nothing,” was the annoying answer that Grayson merrily gave. “It's just an inside joke.”

Just like he had been done more and more, Dick extended a hand to ruffle Damian's hair, who didn't react, which was something he was proud of to achieve so quickly, because the first time it took him months to be able to relax around Grayson. “I dislike those.”

“I can give you all the context you need on the way.”

Damian wrinkled his nose before starting to walk. “I didn't say I want to understand.”

As he passed them, Dick turned again to Alfred, giving him a look that was a mix of amused exasperation. “Looks like we're off. Do you need anything? We can get it for you once we're done with the exhibition.”  

“Nothing at the moment, thank you. Please take care and remember that I expect you to be on your best behavior.”

“Don't worry, I'm sure Damian is not going to cause any problems.”

“I was talking to you, Master Richard.”

Fortunately for Damian - because he had a reputation to uphold -, Alfred and Dick were behind him, so they couldn't see the smile, almost childlike, he couldn't suppress at hearing Alfred's dry words.

The journey to the museum wasn't that terrible... because Damian carefully planned his words, strategizing his conversation topics like he was in the middle of an intelligence gathering operation. Since the moment he accepted to accompany Grayson, he spent the next days mentally preparing for this, trying to do as much control damage as possible in advance, because he knew that this little innocent daytrip was going to do unspeakable damage to his emotional state, how could it not? When spending time with Grayson felt like both, a punishment and a reward.

Regardless of his initial success, he had to admit that his interactions with Grayson were harder to navigate when they weren't fighting crime or conversing about their night lifestyle. Damian was avoiding talking about anything that could be considered “work” related, because he wanted Dick to have a respite from the heavy shadow of the bat that loomed over him, but it didn't mean he was having an easy time forcing himself to be as socially acceptable as possible. That's why he welcomed the sight of the museum when they reached their destination, eager to use it as buffer between him and Grayson.

Once they were inside, Damian examined the architecture now that he could see it in the daylight and whole, because the future hadn't been kind to locations like these one. Initially, when he came to Gotham, he didn't think much of its mixed architecture: the obnoxious art deco interlaced with soft art nouveau, drowning in a sea of gothic style edifications. It made for a somber city, which suited his father well.

Damian's fondness for Gotham's architecture was initially born out of necessity. Upon arriving in the wrong time, the only thing he had left of the life he knew were the foundations of the city. The more information he tried to absorb about, well, everything, made it clear that this enigmatical future version of him was, as Drake once said about him: “very overkill”, at least one had to be to go as far as to booby-trap every single prominent building in Gotham. In attempting to keep his mind from going astray, Damian not only talked to the dead, but he tried some other things, ordinary and desperate, like reading books from the remains of the library and actually checking out for them, hunting down the surviving bottles of what it became his preferred iced tea and sitting in dilapidated gargoyles, sketchbook in hands, looking at the crumbled city and restoring it to its former glory from memory in between the blank pages.

It was comforting in a way, looking now at the interior of the museum and seeing it so pristine if solemn in its design, because the last time Damian had been there in the day, they were only ruins left.

And as expected of an inauguration, the museum was full of people interested in the new display; usually Damian hated crowded places, but in this case, they provided convenient distraction, that's why he also didn't protest much to the guided tour Grayson got them into. In a way, he appreciated that Dick was willing to suffer this activity for him - as misguided as his attempts at bonding were -, so he did his best to pretend he wasn't bored while following the guide, mentally drowning her words while he was more focused on the Egyptian objects scattered on the wing.

There was everything one could expect to see in an exposition of such nature: colorful sarcophagus, statues of all kind of sizes, funerary masks, Canopic jars, weaponry, tablets, clothing, jewelry and everyday items. All of these things he was very well familiar with, given the kind of artefacts his grandfather collected through the centuries, even gifting him a set of khopesh that once belonged to some pharaoh Damian never bothered to remember his name.

By the time the tour was coming to an end, Damian's thoughts were far away, lost in the past that never was and the future that will never be, but then again, it wasn't unusual, because that's how he spend most of his waking moments, being his own Pythia, prophesizing tragedies and thinking of ways to prevent them. Just like his father. And it was that thought that made him finally snap from his musings, because from all the omens he was carrying with him, that was one he wanted to avoid most. Should his father be in his place at this precise moment, he would waste the entire visit daydreaming about his Batman's pursuits, instead of trying to enjoy the company; Grayson was sacrificing his free time for Damian, doing something he thought Damian would appreciate, so the least he could do was to at least be present, truly present, and not roaming in the corridors of his mind.

With this new purpose, Damian waited until their guide concluded the tour and as soon as they were dismissed, he turned to Grayson with the intention of asking him to take some photographs, since the man actually brought a camera with him, however, he was too slow, because one of the women from their group beat him to it. If he had to guess, she was around Grayson's age and clearly interested in him, something Damian noticed early on when he was assessing every person in the group, which was understandable, because Dick's poor attempt at disguise didn't do much to conceal his attractiveness.

Damian rolled his eyes, exasperated. If he didn't want this to end like a typical Wayne party with Grayson entertaining strange women, he was going to have to intervene, but a simple question from her made him stop before he could do anything.

“That's great!” She answered to what Dick said with a flirtatious smile. “And are you here alone?”

“Oh, no, I'm—” to any person that didn't know him, the minuscule pause that Grayson took before his next words could pass unnoticed, just him inhaling so he could keep talking. “With my brother, he likes this stuff, at least I hope he does.”

As always, Grayson was all charm with an easygoing disposition, but the way he doubted for a split-second before declaring Damian his brother, was something that took Damian's breath and made him tense up, feeling more than ever the need to say something as crass as he hadn't done in years, just like all those times he interrupted Grayson's conversations in Damian's days as his Robin, uncouth and angry. Instead he turned around and walked away, trying to call as little attention to him as possible, getting out of sight, shielded by the visitors.

He passed many objects being displayed, looking but not looking, willing himself not to fixate in any thought, because if he did, he felt like he would crumble like that Gotham he left in the future.

In his aimless steps, from the corner of his eye he got a glimpse of an statue of Anubis and that made him retrace his way. They were several people surrounding the crystal showcase that contained the statue, but Damian had no problem moving in between them until he was at the front, something that hardly bothered anyone, given his size. Damian looked at the basalt statue representing Anubis and he let himself think about his grandfather, just like that night weeks ago, because that felt like a much safer line of thought at that moment. Looking at the head of the statue, Damian questioned, not for the first time, what made his grandfather take it as an inspiration to symbolize his position as leader of the League. Anubis didn't exactly fit in the “demon's head” aesthetics - if such thing existed - and going by his grandfather's antics, it would've made more sense to choose any figure that opposed death, not oversight it. But maybe it was precisely that, after all, his grandfather fancied himself as a judge for humanity and their evils.

He could've stayed there for the rest of the day, thinking about his grandfather's motivations, be they about fashion or morality, but hearing Grayson call his name dragged him out of the little safe space he made for his thoughts. He didn't turn but he knew the precise moment Grayson came to stand next to him.  

“This place is huge,” Dick said after contemplating the statue a little, like he was trying to see what Damian was seeing in it. “You could get lost.”

“I know where every door in the building is,” he answered, stoic and unmoving, still looking at Anubis and the secrets it didn't hold. “Getting lost isn't an option.” Grayson chuckled and Damian clenched his teeth at the sound, instantly infuriated at himself.

“The point of coming here was to relax, not to give you homework.” He waited for a response but at Damian's prolonged silence he tried again. “Are you a fan?”

“Of what?”

“Anubis?” He put his hands in the pockets of his pants, too casually to be an spontaneous gesture. “Personally I think Ra is my favorite, you know, classics.”

For a moment, Damian visualized Todd there, asking Grayson what the fuck he was talking about, because Damian was trying to be as decorous as possible, so he couldn't inquire that way. “I like dogs.” Was what he chose to say instead.

Clearly the answer wasn't enough for Dick to work something out, because after another moment he tried again, more clearly this time. “So, what do you think? Are you having fun?”

“It's been educational.”

“Aw shucks, I missed the mark with this, eh?”

“No!” He said immediately, surprising himself. “No, you didn't.” He added, more measured.

Damian gave the statue one last look and proceeded to move, making a vague gesture at Dick to follow him, which he did. Damian used those few seconds while they walked away from the people that were still admiring the statue, to reorganize his thoughts, because whatever he was feeling, it was irrelevant, asinine, worthless. He wasn't going to fail Grayson and ruin all the effort he put on this, Damian was better than that and if he wasn't, he will make himself be, right away.

“You must understand, I've been in Egypt before and some things here aren't new for me.” Telling truths was such a convenient tool, because he didn't even have to lie, just let people form their own ideas about his words, based in the context they thought they had. “But I appreciate seeing them again, it's been an introspective experience.”

“I'm going to assume that's a good thing,” just as Damian wanted. “But now I have a lot of questions, you weren't there raiding tombs, were you?” He asked playfully.

“I know you're trying to be funny but I can't answer that in public.”

Dick looked at him like Damian was jesting, shaking his head with something like looked suspiciously like fondness, it made Damian want to stop and kick him right there. “Okay, let me ask something that won't get you in trouble. Tell me about Egypt, how was it?”

He frowned slightly, considering the question. “Beautiful. Merciless.” He said ultimately, frowning again, at himself this time, because he could do better, Grayson deserved better. “I spent most of my time in the dessert, days are unpleasant there and the nights are harsh, but if you have a fire and you're not suffering from hunger and thirst, it's magnificent,” the fingers of his right hand twitched almost imperceptibly, with the desire to hold a pencil. “The sky is so clear it feels like you drowned beneath the stars. It's easy to be at peace there when it's only you in an ocean of sand... I'm not sure if I can say it was a humbling experience, it feels so long ago in my memories and I'm know I wasn't having spiritual revelations in the middle of the dessert, I was most probably irritated and tired but even then, every time I looked at the sky at night, I understood why my mother and my grandfather love this world so much.”

And just like that, Damian felt suddenly very self-conscious and muscle memory made him try to reach for a hood that wasn't there, which in turn made him feel even more of an idiot. Curse Grayson and his ill-advised efforts to establish a connection with him. And curse Damian too! For caring so much it felt like he was suffocating with every breath he took. Things like this were precisely what he was trying to avoid from the start. Damage control his foot!

He ventured a glance at Grayson and when he looked like he was about to say something, Damian decided on a whim that the only viable option now was to act like the kid he certainly wasn't. “No,” he declared, pointing at Grayson with his right index. “I don't need your feedback and right now I want to... decipher that papyrus over there,” and he vaguely gestured to someplace behind Dick. “So please keep quiet while I work.”

Without waiting for confirmation, Damian rushed to the wall where various papyri were spread behind a crystal barrier. Oh, if his mother could see him right now, she would be positively aghast at his behavior. For his part, Grayson was too gracious, pretending Damian wasn't making a complete fool of himself, waiting patiently at this side with hands behind his back, his expression composed, not betraying anything. And he waited longer than Damian expected him to before finally talking again.

“Did you find something interesting?” He asked, humor tinting his voice despite his serious expression.

“Just boring praises to Osiris.” He answered trying not to sound as mortified as he felt.

“Really?”

“Yes, there.” He pointed to the second papyrus that was in the bottom row and closer to him.

“Are you sure you deciphered it,” and his façade started to crack. “Or the explanation at the side told you?” He finalized, poorly concealing a smile.

“Who do you take me for?” He uttered, affronted. “Of course I did.”

At this, Dick finally dropped the act. “Wait, do you really can read that?”

“My mother instructed me to learn a dead language as a pastime. It seemed like an easy option at the time.”

“Only you would say something like that,” he said, incredulous. “Or your dad, which yeah, actually makes sense I guess,” and he crossed his arms, looking at Damian in a way he hadn't done in ages: like he was measuring him. “Can you tell me what it says?”

“It depends, do you want an exact translation or I'm allowed to take liberties? I can understand the general intention just fine but I don't think I can translate word for word.”

“Sure, put it on layman's terms for me.”

If Damian was being honest, he was more than happy to fulfill Grayson's request, because translating hieroglyphics was infinitely more easier than trying to navigate conversations when his emotions were working against him. 

He supported his right elbow over his left palm, holding his chin with the other hand and stood straight as possible, his eyes examining the symbols in the papyrus while he mentally constructed an appropriate way to convey what was placed there. When he felt satisfied with what he had, he crossed his arms and taking a quick look around, he judged that he was at an acceptable distance from the other visitors.  

“In broad terms is something like this,” he started, adopting the same tone he used to do when he was reporting to his mother. “Hail Lord of Time, Heir of Geb, hail Lord of Life, bearer of the Atef-Crown, hail Lord of Fear, son of Nut. Hail to you, Osiris, Lord of the Two Horns, Ruler of the Hidden Place, Chief of the Westerners, worshiped by followers of Re and Atum, reverenced by Shu and Tefnut, adored by the Two Lands. We humbly fall before you, Creator of Gods, judge of dead and living, grant us a place amid your followers.” He wasn't exactly glowing with pride, but he was satisfied enough after acting like such a simpleton before.

Whatever reaction Damian expected from Dick, it definitely wasn't for Grayson to start rummaging through his jacket. “That was amazing, Damian,” he said almost at the same time he took out his phone, tapping in the screen before he placed it horizontally, pointing it towards Damian. “Say it again!”

“Are you recording?” He asked like he was disgusted after hearing something unsavory.

“Alfie wanted photos of you,” he at least had the decency to explain. “But this is so much better! He's going to love it,” but then he lowered the phone a little, looking dissatisfied. “But if you repeat it it's not going to be as genuine,” he mused for a moment before cheering up again. “Oh, I know, the first tablet the guide showed us, the big one with colors? That is perfect.”

Damian didn't need to be familiar with how Grayson's reasoning worked to understand what he was saying. “It's also very crowded and has a literal translation next to it.”

“Good thing you're not saying it word for word.”

He was going to protest, of course he was, but Grayson in his sudden joyful madness, took Damian's right hand with his left and started walking, making Damian follow his lead while he happily chatted about Alfred's family albums, giving the context he didn't asked for.

It wasn't like Grayson's hold was inescapable, it wasn't a strong grip, just enough force to keep one's hand closed. Damian tried to think if Grayson ever did this outside of necessity, like a move in the middle of a fight or catching him in midair; it was such a pointless thing, always has been, because Damian was never a child that needed to be secured in public spaces. Still, it wasn't bad, it didn't feel patronizing or asserting, so Damian didn't object, not that it was surprising, considering that he would follow Dick Grayson anywhere, even to the very doors of Hell. So he went.

He wondered if Grayson knew this is what he apparently needed. If that changed something, if it was even intentional. Whichever the case, after this, Damian fared better the rest of the visit, satisfying Grayson's silly requests to translate every time he pointed at something, letting him take photographs and even taking some himself for his art studies, telling him more about his stay in Egypt, but being careful to only talk about inconsequential things like animals or food. By the end, he even accepted Dick's suggestion to visit the gift shop before they left. Initially he had no interest in buying anything, he was just wandering while waiting for Grayson but when his eyes fell on an Egyptian themed hourglass, it was like a call. The same reason he picked an abandoned clock factory for his hideout, was the reason he decided to make such a frivolous purchase; in another life, his father would've been proud to see Damian taking after him.

On the way home, Damian felt like he could finally loosen up and have a brief moment of tranquility, like when he just successfully finished one of his mother's tasks, the kind he would prefer not to do again. Grayson, however, seemed to enjoy wrecking Damian's solace, because while waiting for the green light in a particularly long stop, he unfastened his seat belt to be able to delve in the back seat.

“Now that we are far away and you can't ask for a refund,” he said before sitting properly again, this time with one of their paper shopping bags from the museum in hands. “I bought you something.”

Damian scowled, clicking his tongue but accepting the bag nonetheless. “That was unnecessary... but I'm thankful for the gesture.” He added after a thought.

The gift in question was a plush toy of Anubis. A very caricaturesque one, clearly designed to look appealing to children with its big head, small body and oval cutesy eyes.

“There was one of Seth too,” Dick said after fastening the seat belt again. “But I think this one looks more like a dog. If you don't like it please don't throw it in the trash.”

“I'm not that thoughtless, the design it's ludicrous but I can see the intent.”

Damian couldn't understand why Grayson seemed to find his words comical every so often, but Dick smiled like he just told a joke and ruffled his hair for the second time that day.

The Anubis plush ended up placed over Damian's nightstand, becoming his new companion in his silent sorrow.  

Although Pennyworth was more permissive than the first time around and let Damian get away with a lot of things, a patrolling schedule with breaks every third day was non-negotiable. Usually Damian found that to be an annoyance in the same category that homework was in, but for once he was looking for a good night of rest after day he had. That, of course, was an unsuccessful plan. He did his best to fall asleep but instead, his treacherous body decided that his time was best spend crying.

He had done so well over the course of the day, withstanding everything and not breaking even once, even if he faltered at times, but as soon as he was in the privacy of his room, lying on his bed and sheltered by the darkness of the night, he couldn't help but openly mourn for what he had lost like he rarely allowed himself to do. He was glad, oh so glad, exultant even, to have Alfred back, safe and sound, but the price was so excruciating.

Damian took a deep breath and moved his right arm that until now had been covering his eyes, he opened them and the darkness welcomed him. He couldn't know how much time passed while he laid there, looking at the ceiling, incapable of distinguish anything, but at some point the grief gave way to something close to wrath. He furiously wiped his tears with both hands, sitting up abruptly while still looking upwards.

The price was agonizing and he would pay it a thousand times! Crushed, brokenhearted, bested, tormented, none of that mattered! Damian was a king, a general and his own entire army, he didn't chose this outcome while trying to rectify his worst sin, but he was going to make the Fates fall at his feet all the same.

And if he has to spend sleepless nights looking at the ceiling, he might as well do something about that too.

⪻Chapter 16

Chapter 18⪼

PS. Damian's translation is a patchwork from Margaret Murray's translations published in Ancient Egyptian Religious Poetry.

Reference for the plushie:

[ashcoveredtraveler]

The Greenpath Vessel

The Greenpath Vessel wasn't originally by themselves as they escaped The Abyss with Broken Vessel/Lost Kin, who is their eggmate. They both spent a good amount of time together, going through Deepnest until getting split up at Fungal Wastes. While Lost kin went somehow made their way inside of the waterways and eventually Kingdoms Edge, The Greenpath Vessel went upwards to, you guessed it, Greenpath.

Unlike the nosk triplets, the Greenpath Vessel is able to see. They also have a set of stunted wings that are situated on the lower part of their back. While they can't fly, they are able to launch themselves forward.

Their life is a lonely life after their separation from their twin. They slept in every crevasse that they could and barely had food. At some point they must have found out that they had retractable claws and started eating meat. Their actions slowly start attracting the attention of the Hunter.

At first it is the unusual way some of the shrubbery bent and how there is a lot more physical disturbance , but if you were to follow the path, it would just get cut off. It wasn't any track that the Hunter could recognize. Then there were multiple spots of blood, a scene of the messy kill. It was obvious that something was hunting in his territory, but he couldn't find whatever it was.

One day they crossed their paths and it doesn't go how either of them want it to go, though afterwards it's the best thing that could have happened to them. It was a storm night and the weather was getting cold and the Greenpath Vessel was starving, tired, cold and injured. While the injuries were minor, they weren't treated well and started to get infected. Luckily for them, there is an injured tik tik in the open. (Un) luckily for them, it was a trap set up by the Hunter, waiting in the bushes so he could get one last morsel for the storm to come.

They pounced on the tik tik, eating it right there. The Hunter simply watches the child eat the tik tik ravenously, taking note of what state they were in once a shell of the tik tik was left from the meal, the vessel shuffled only a few steps before dropping from exhaustion.

The Hunter decided to help the child out and took them into his warm den. There he treats their wounds and cooks meat for them to recover. They probably resisted somewhat but eventually gave in, (I will probably give more of a description on their dynamic in a later post, but I would like to just post it here.)

From there the Hunter decided to raise the vessel as a tiny hunter. He gave them the name Mothwing based on their stunted wings that felt like a moths wing. He takes them on week long hunting trips and teaches them how to survive.

Mothwing was fearless, almost too fearless. They had to be taught restraint as they seemed to want to attack any edible thing in sight. Once the restraint was taught, a side to Mothwing appeared. A very kind and patient side. A side that is willing to help those in need and show affection. The Hunter doesn't discourage this kindness, as long as it doesn't negatively affect them.

With this notice in change on their behavior when they are somewhat stable, the Hunter knew that Mothwing was not a solitary creature in nature, so me makes sure to go to the Markets of Greenpath so they could socialize with others. He could have left them with other social bugs, but he had grown attached to them(even though he probably won't admit it). Though Mothwing got attached to him as well.

During one of these trips to the markets of Greenpath, Mothwing comes across their twin Lost kin, who is named Kyne, is now living with the Nailmasters in Greenpath. While they do deeply miss each other, they still both live with their respective guardians and come to see each other every other day.

I am unsure how Pale King would find them as my original plan was for them to not split up with Kyne and stay with the Nailmasters. The Pale King would find them when scheduling a lesson with the Nailmasters. I guess the Nailmasters might tell the Pale King that Mothwing is in Greenpath when he inquires if they know of any locations of vessels.

Regardless when The Pale King offers Mothwing to stay with them in the Palace, they would decline. They do try to make as much contact with their sibling that is in the Palace, and their siblings in Deepnest. However they seemed to bond more with the Deepnest Triplets as they have more in common with them.

[gryphonlover]

Whumptober 2023 Day 15

Prompt: makeshift bandages

Victim: Sky

Words: 651

Notes: I'm going to say that technically hands count.

Twilight and Warriors found him. He'll be fine, I promse!

Okay, so, he was currently in the middle of nowhere, didn't have any of his supplies with him, and his leg was bleeding a concerningly large amount of blood. 

This was not how he wanted to spend his day off.

The original plan had been to send Sun a letter and treat himself to some good food and sleep, maybe even a drink or two if Twilight was in the mood to go out to the tavern with him later. What had ended up happening was drastically different. He'd had the time to drop off the letter and then accidentally discovered a human trafficking ring and taken down the men in charge.

They wouldn't be touching any more children any time soon.

The good news was that enough of the children were familiar with the area and were largely unharmed, so their escape had been successful due to Sky being able to… take care of… the perpetrators.

Unfortunately, he was now very lost and losing more blood than he'd like to see outside of his body. 

Stupid traffickers and their stupid arrows.

He took a deep breath and settled his hands on the shaft of the arrow, braced himself for the pain, and snapped it in half as close to the entry point as he dared. He clenched his jaw, the remnants of a scream trying to pry itself out of his mouth.

He allowed himself some time to breathe, counting as he did so in the way that Zelda always did when he woke up from another nightmare. What he wouldn't give to have her here now, her soft voice in his ears and her gentle touch pushing against the blood leaking out steadily.

He tightened his grip around the wound. She wasn't here now, though. He was by himself and he needed to remember his first aid training so he didn't bleed out all alone before their child was born. 

Blood loss made it surprisingly hard to think, though. 

What he did remember was put pressure on the wound, don't pull it out, tell someone to get help. 

Well, his hands were shaking but doing a decent job at applying pressure around the arrow. He definitely wasn't pulling it out, and he couldn't exactly remove it correctly since he didn't have any supplies with him and was also wounded person in question. Getting help would be… he didn't want to think about it through the haze the pain was wrapping his awareness in, but it was currently his highest priority.

The problem was that he had no idea how to get help in the first place. He couldn't call for his loftwing because he was in the wrong time period and he couldn't get up and walk because that was a horrible idea and he preferred to keep his leg, thank you very much.

He decided that he couldn't really do anything except stay calm and not bleed to death while he waited for his brothers to find him. He hoped that it wouldn't take too long because he was starting to feel ill, like he'd run too far for too long on the Surface.

His perception of time was quickly discarded in the fogginess that was overtaking his brain and forcing him to spend all his energy applying pressure to the wound and breathing through the pain and anxiety.

Everything kind of just… started blurring together after a while. He sat in that hazy, dizzy state struggling to remain focused on keeping his hands from shaking. He was losing his grip, but too afraid of what would happen if he let go to give up yet.

Then there was something on his hands, prying them off, pressing against his leg far harder than he had been, the pain washing away that last bit of consciousness he had left and knocking him into the dark sleep he'd been resisting.

[keeponquinning]

Let’s take a peek at Dancing with the Ghost of You 👀🤍

Ask me to spoil my current WIPs / plot bunnies.

Okay! So, first off it's not an original idea, I'm sure I've seen version of this out there, so 100% claim this is not groundbreaking but an idea that popped in my head and scenes birthed themselves in my thoughts and as soon as that happens, it's over, I'm attempting it. Let me make up a little synopsis for it that I may end up using for when it's actually finished:

Steve Harrington was used to making a lot of promises, some for reassurance, some to give hope, in desperate times. Eddie Munson made him promise to make sure you were taken care of if things went bad. You made him promise to make sure Eddie would come back to you. He couldn't keep one promise, he was determined to keep the other. Which was good, as you found, grief was a bitch, never giving you peace, especially in your dreams, conflicting with your reality at every turn.

( Yeah, we're doing steve x grieving!reader, bc i want to give him a happy ending but not be easy about it. eddie x reader in flashbacks, each chapter I'm planning to have at least one of the relationship, my first dance of angst. I've written five paragraphs of it so far, to which, to the read more! )

Friday night. Not too dead, not too busy, not at the dive bar and grill you work at, anyway. It had its perks, though, you were still young, a year after high school. College didn't interest you, not for what you had planned for your future. That relied on the stage — oh, not that stage. No, no, not the one at your work, but it was a stage....technically. Which would hopefully lead to a better stage, bigger, brighter, better sound system that could play to a whole screaming crowd bigger than this place could hold. But, for now, it was your stage. When your manager deemed it dead enough for you to take it.

But now, you were behind the bar, doing half ass cocktails in a town that really asked for anything on tap. Watching a girl on your stage, lace gloves, dangling earrings and leg warmers, singing her little heart out... Completely mangling Madonna. Like A Virgin seemed appropriate. Inexperienced. Clumsy. Awkward. A huge sense of am I doing this right? You didn't even like Madonna that much but as you wiped down the counter, your eyes couldn't stay away from the stage as she was absolutely committing a crime. The worst thing? You absolutely remembered this girl from school, Tammy Thompson, the girl you were in choir with, that everyone was certain would scale the music charts.

"Yikes," someone else had said, a familiar voice, your eyes swiping toward him, alone on the bar stool. "Muppet. I swear. Just like a muppet."

Your lips quirked, the start of a snicker just about to be brought out. Wasn't wrong, and now that he said it, you couldn't not hear it. Perhaps it was mean, you more than anyone knew it took a lot to make it into music, and really, you didn't know much about Tammy's passion, if it matched yours or if she sang like any songbird did — simply because people said they should. But... God, the fact that she got a spot before you without having to tend bar first, seemed more than a little insulting. Still, you couldn't quite resist. "Are we thinking Kermit or Miss Piggy? I'm hoping Kermit, slander against Miss Piggy is something I can't let stand. Or Fozzie the Bear, I'm getting a feel more for Fozzie."

That got him, where you were kind enough not to snicker out right, he laughed, loudly. Your eyes flashing toward Tammy, at least glad she didn't seem to notice, her eyes closed and focused on the song, at least it reaching its end — though still a few more songs in her set. Your eyes flashing back to him, recognizing him of course, looking a bit different than his high school days, about the same time you graduated. He looked over at you with a smile, parting his lip to speak, but another spoke from the other side of you, snapping your attention away from him. "Pitcher of your finest, but definitely cheapest ice cold beer, please?"

[youmissedone]

Carlos resisted the urge both to act on instinct when he was grabbed and to comment on how much it hurt for her to be pressing on the egg on the back of his head. He didn't know for sure, but he imagined clones were more stoic, more tolerant to things like pain. They certainly didn't let loose with sarcastic and funny quips and comments. It was hard to resist his natural tendencies, but the threat of death was enough to keep him in line. Because if this Rain clone found out he wasn't her actual teammate, that's probably what he'd be facing.

"What, like you did?" was the only comment he made, though he kept his expression stoic. "Come on, admit it. This one got away from us. The situation, I mean," he said. "This was more difficult than anyone anticipated. "More and more, he was finding it easy to lie, because there wasn't all that much different between his situation and hers, as long as you left allegiances out of the mix. But as he listened to Rain reaffirm her desire to Carlos was realizing something startling. Rain wasn't just hard to convince... She might be impossible to convince.

The more she spoke, the more Carlos got the impression that accepting her lot in life, the compulsion to follow orders even if she didn't care or agree with them, and the lack of empathy were all... hardwired into her. He'd always thought that clones were blank slates that were trained to be the way they were, or somewhat brainwashed by memory implantation. But what if different clones were permanently programmed to be and do certain things, and they don't have the capacity to deviate from it? What if there was no way to work with this particular version of Rain at all?

That left Carlos with a dilly of a pickle indeed. If he can't convince her to abandon her mission to kill Alice, he'd have to kill her. But he couldn't kill her, not with her enhancements. He wouldn't have the time to get a killing blow on her, and even if he did, she'd only heal and then kill him. So if he couldn't kill her, and he couldn't deter her... what else could he do to make sure she never harmed Alice or any of the others? For once, Carlos lamented not being turned into some super person by Umbrella. Then at least he'd have a fighting chance.

When she poked him, once and then twice, Carlos felt something flare inside him. For all he knew right now, he was a clone. What's to say the original didn't die way before even the Hive incident, even before the Raccoon City outbreak, and he was actually a clone of that Carlos? He knew he wasn't. Knew it. But... so did so many other clones. Memory imprints were really effective. And even if Umbrella hadn't somewhere pulled a really big fast one on him, wasn't he still expendable? Hadn't he always been? He'd certainly realized that fact during that night in Raccoon. Use it.

"I know. I know I'm a clone. I know I'm expendable. And there's nothing I can do about being a clone, but I can sure as hell decide not to act like one," he said back. "So what if we're expendable, Rain? You know what really makes us expendable? It isn't Umbrella making that overtly obvious to us with the way it pumps out versions of us on a regular basis. It's us. We're doing this to ourselves. We're giving Umbrella that power over us. You're right, in this line of work, our life expectancy is next to nothing. But come on, at least fight for something you believe in, not because that's how it is. You're stronger than that. I'm not content being expendable anymore."

He sighed and stood up, looking over the remnants of the fight that had taken place there. "Whether we go off on our own or we go after Project Alice, I don't plan on dying," he said firmly. "I choose... not to be expendable anymore. So you can forget about having to eventually clean me off your boots. And if cracking my head gave me this liberating epiphany of freedom, then maybe it was a blessing in disguise. Come on. Let's get out of here before we freeze into a solid block of ice."

He couldn't believe Rain was going to try and flip the snowcat right-side up. Then again, he didn't know the extent to which her enhancements amplified things like strength. As he watched her unsuccessfully try to do it for a time, he was about to say they should forget it and just take the mini sub, but then she... started to crack and smolder? She looked like a cooling lava flow, and that was beyond disturbing. "Jesus Christ..." he whispered under his breath as she actually managed to flip the damn thing. "Right," he then said stoically in response to her, knowing shock and horror were probably two emotions that would get him killed.

So they were really doing this... going after Alice. Carlos knew he had to think of something fast, but in his exhaustion and frustration, he was coming up blank. At least he knew how to operate a snowcat, so that glaring omission in what should've been his training wouldn't be getting him killed anytime soon. He climbed inside and tried to take stock of the inside of the thing without being too obvious about it. Carlos then set about starting it up and seeing if it was still operational.

[Sooo... saw that ask about Carlos and clones, and it made Bad Rain wanna say hi] Rain silently assessed the man in front of her from behind the dark-tinted goggles of her gas mask. After her little dinner date in the ocean, her retinal implants started malfunctioning and she could no longer discern if this was a new Carlos or what. "...I thought you were dead," she stated.

Carlos was pretty sure he was the last man standing as far as whoever was still left inside the quickly-failing facility. On their side, that is. There were still plenty of clones running around, and Jill had beaten him to the midget submarines with whoever she still had with her. At least nobody had noticed he was still kicking, or that he'd taken one of them for himself. He barely knew how to work it, but right now it was his only chance. The failing facility was quickly flooding from every angle, so he had to get out of there fast.

Alice and the others were long gone as well - he hoped, anyway - and Barry... Well, Barry hadn't made it. Maybe that was for the best, considering the injuries he'd gotten from that uber licker had probably doomed him anyway unless they could locate some of the antivirus. Carlos had stood by him until the end, hoping they'd bought enough time for Alice and the others to escape.

Carlos wouldn't have figured Alice would agree to leave him behind, but... hey, there was a child involved, and someone had to buy time somewhere. Barry was already screwed and Carlos... was kindof used to taking one for the team. His narrow escape from death back in Nevada was proof of that. He didn't blame Alice one damn bit for taking the opportunity and getting the hell out. At the end of the day, people like her and him were protectors, and sometimes protectors didn't walk away with their lives.

That didn't mean he wasn't going to try. Laying down and dying for no damn good reason wasn't something Carlos was about. He was gonna try to fight his way out of here, or he was gonna make his death useful in some way. So he'd taken one of the midgets subs, donned the trappings of his clone from whatever Umbrella commando attire he could find stored in it, and set out. He didn't know who he was going to run into, after all.

It was a while before he encountered Jill's sub, with any and all communications having been wrecked by all that water. And of course, he didn't have the benefit of any retinal implants. Surfacing so he could get out and see what had gone down, he was met with a disappointing scene. There was no sign of Alice, Becky, Leon, or the rest of the strike team. Except... for Luther. Poor bastard. Luther had been a good guy, and Carlos was sorry to see he'd met his end here. Jill and her clone army wasn't anywhere to be seen either, though. Where did everybody go?

He turned when he suddenly heard Rain's voice, of course knowing she was a clone. Any Rain he ran into anywhere was a clone at this point. He'd heard Alice's tearful accounts of what had happened to the original Rain enough times to know for sure that she was completely dead. Silently, Carlos told himself to be careful, play the part.

When she said she thought he was dead, he had to resist the urge to crack some kind of joke. That was what came naturally to him, something to the effect of , rumors of my demise have been greatly exaggerated or, I'm a lot harder to kill than that. But clone Carlos wouldn't make jokes. About himself... or the fact that Rain was drenched. What'd you do, decide to take a dip in the ocean? Nope, he had to play it straight.

"No. And neither are you, it seems," he answered flatly, still holding his rifle at the ready, acting like he was suspicious of her for a moment, before lowering it. "Rest of the team is, though. Whatever that explosion was let half the ocean in and took everyone out. I'm blind here, save for the GPS system in the sub. No comms, no maps, no target scanners, nothing. The salt water fucked with all of it," he said, acting annoyed yet also restrained about it. "Where's Project Alice and the rest of the intruders? What about Chief Valentine?" he asked, remembering the various monikers he'd heard the Red Queen use inside the facility.

There just hadn't been enough time, though, to perfect everything before Rain showed up, and Carlos knew these clones were smart. They were engineered that way. So he hoped his outfit was on correctly, that all his major scars were covered, and that he didn't have too much of a haggard five o' clock shadow. Anything like that could give him away, and he knew he couldn't take on a clone version of Rain alone... especially when he knew the clones had access to Las Plagas enhancements that made them damn near indestructible...