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whateverisbeautiful · 3 days ago

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I've seen a lot of people say Michonne was a negligent mother for leaving her kids behind or that she should have never went searching for Rick when she had kids at home. I feel like this is such a hot topic for people (especially the ones who love to throw shade at Michonne). Regardless of the fact that Judith told her to go bring Rick home, I'd love to hear your thoughts!

Thanks for wanting to hear my thoughts! I have quite a bit on this one. 😅

I think the “Michonne is a negligent mother and abandoned her kids” take is one of the most disingenuous and wrong takes to date. I’ve seen people attempt to push that narrative for years, and there are so many reasons why it's incorrect. But I also think it's disingenuous because it often comes from people who disliked Michonne and didn't have a valid reason for why, during the eight straight seasons she was on the show, because she gave them no legitimate reason to dislike her. Not connecting/clicking with a character is something everyone is entitled to. But the disdain some had for Michonne - they had no concrete reason for it (that they’d directly say aloud at least, even tho as we often say: we know why) And so they cling to bashing a decision made in the final minutes of her final episode and act like that now paints the entire picture of the character and her motherhood. When really, going to look for Rick was the opposite of neglectful, and was a decision Michonne made jointly with her daughter.

We watched eight seasons of a woman who was easily one of the most nurturing/caring people on the show & who, from the moment we met her, was being thoughtful even to strangers like Andrea. The way that Michonne took Carl and Judith in as her own, and they became her children. Like, we have seen too many seasons of this woman being extremely familial, loving, and caring towards her family. So to have the outlook that “She's just a negligent mother” is inane. What she did by going to find Rick wasn’t selfish; it was a huge sacrifice. And it was a sacrifice she was commendably willing to make for the people she loves most.

Also, people are so unwilling sometimes to give Michonne the benefit of the doubt, even despite her having a track record that should more than earn her the benefit of the doubt. There are so many examples of Michonne being a character who uses discernment and is nurturing, and so the "bad mom" arguments just never work. Even with her leaving in s10, it’s not at all hard to have given her the benefit of the doubt that she had a specific place she was going to look for Rick (Bridgers Terminal), rather than just planning to go off searching indefinitely, and that she gave Judith a sense of where she was specifically going to look, the timeline she had in mind, and that if she didn't find Rick there she'd swiftly return home to Judith and RJ.

And of course, in an apocalypse, it's always risky to part ways. A timeline can be thwarted, and unexpected, dangerous things can happen, as we even saw with the CRM attack that put a year delay on her trip. So it's a risk. But I don't think there's ever been more of a risk worth taking than knowing that the love of her life & her children’s father is alive and that she can find him and give their family a chance to be together again.

I think some people thought Michonne was just going to vaguely search the country for years, when really she knew where she was going to look and had every intent to be home to her kids asap. Because she’s a devoted mother. That’s a huge reason why she had to look for Rick, and a huge reason why she was hesitant to go before Judith encouraged her to, and a huge reason why she remained extremely determined to make it home every single day she was apart from her kids.

And when they say Michonne abandoned the kids, I’m just like, how is it abandonment when the kids are fully aware of what their mother is doing, and they wanted her to go do it?? By that warped definition, any time a parent is temporarily away, even if the parent and child fully communicated about their travels and the kid is urging their parent to take this journey, it's still abandonment, because so long as a parent is not with their kid, they've abandoned them.🤔 They have to completely ignore Michonne and Judith’s final conversation on the walkie in season 10 for that to even remotely work.

Now, do I think that if Danai wasn't leaving The Walking Dead, that they would have had Michonne set off to find Rick in the exact way it was executed? No. Imo, it would have gone a bit differently. I think Michonne would be the type of character who would discover that Rick's alive, everything in her would want to find him - for him, for her, and especially for their kids, because Michonne never just acts in pure self-interest. She's always doing something in the name of what would be beneficial to her family. So she would feel very called to go and look for Rick and know he needs her, and her family needs him. But she would go home first. She would go home and ensure the Whisperer War was really over. And she’d establish in person where the kids will be staying and with whom before she goes to find Rick.

But they had to write Michonne off the show, and leave her ending open enough to set up for the spinoff. So they didn’t put on-screen just how much she might have communicated to her kids about where she was going and what the plan would be in her absence. And maybe she knew that where she was with Virgil was closer to Bridgers Terminal, and so her travels would be quicker if she left from there rather than went home first.

Also, at that point, Alexandria had been standing for over 10 years, if I’m not mistaken. It’s not like this was the farm or the prison, where if you leave for an extended period of time, the odds of the group still being there would be low. She had every reason to believe that if she went on this recuse mission, her kids would still be at ASZ, their longstanding home, when she returned. And Michonne knew that Judith and RJ have guardians who will absolutely watch over and protect her kids with their lives, while she does the most invaluable thing in the world and brings their father back to them.

If Judith had gotten on that walkie and said she didn’t want Michonne to leave, Michonne would have been back in ASZ pronto. But hearing her daughter be so adamant about her going, both Michonne and Judith knew this was something that she had to do. And it had to be Michonne specifically because that’s who Rick most needed to save him and bring him back to life.

The kids didn’t view themselves as abandoned. They knew their mom was doing something huge for them, and they respected it. And especially because Michonne’s mission to find Rick and bring him home to them was successful, the kids will probably forever feel like that's one of the greatest things their mother ever did. Give them their dad back. That’s why I love that TOWL ends with Judith telling Michonne, “You brought him back,” and Michonne saying, “You told me to.” That's such a big reason why she did it. Her daughter told her to, and she was determined to honor her daughter's requests and go get him.

Despite everything thrown at her through her journey and travels, Michonne always knew she was going to get back to her children, come hell or high water. And she did. And not even empty-handed either, since she brought Judith & RJ’s loving father back into their lives. And so, Michonne is one of the best mothers in media in my book. 👌🏽

#richonne #reflecting on richonne #twd #asks & answers

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strangelittlestories · 3 days ago

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I had felt the god stalking me for days before it finally appeared.

It was a twilight kind of god. When the sun began to go down, the sunset was swollen with malice, a vivid scar across the horizon. Then the stars would come out too early and too many, like a hundred times a hundred spiders staring down with explosions for eyes.

In times gone by, I would have prepared for the god's arrival. I would have laid wards across my doors and windows and peppered them around town, so I would always have a place of power nearby. I would have fashioned godkillers out of sycamore wood and carried a sprig of burning mistletoe.

But I had learned, by then, that preparing for war is the surest way to find it. And I no longer liked leaving my power squirreled away in pockets of the world, where it could curdle. I settled, instead, for the power I could carry in my skin and my dreams.

When the god emerged, it seemed... confused.

It emerged from the community hearth fire, in the centre of the town. It was made of embers wrapped in smoke, riding the sweet evening breeze like a wildfire surfing on a water dragon.

I walked out to meet it.

"Worship unto you, deity," I said, tasting woodsmoke on my tongue, "I do not believe you are a god of mine, but you are kin to gods of mine. I will give you praise if you give me a name to honour."

"This one is Slow Death of Embers. This one is a fragment of vengeance and a sliver of justice. We were promised sacrifice and they made this one to collect."

"Hail to you, Slow Death of Embers. May you always find prayer and keep your agreements. What sacrifice were you promised?"

"You," it replied, "But also not you."

"Who was it who offered me to your fires? I will see if I can fulfil their bargain.

"Too many names. Living. Dead. Those you have wronged. Those you crushed with boot and will."

A dream of violence reared up hissing in my mind, ready to burst forth into the world. I thanked it for its service and bid it wander home, instead.

"They have just reason to ask this of you." I put a mental wall between the inside of my skull and any other dreams too eager to come to my defense. "If I am who you seek, I will walk with you into the fire."

"You are. You are not. You bear the name. You bear the sin." A flare of cinder sparks gave the impression of a nose being wrinkled, perplexed. "You do not bear the shape. What are you?"

"I am just a person. A sack of skin holding blood and history." I took the god's smoke-wrought hand in mine and squeezed. My palm tingled with a dozen tiny scorch marks. "I think, deity, there is too much of both those things between the person you seek and the person I am. Time and choice have made it so I am not that person anymore. However, that person still lives in my shadow. I feel them there curled up in there, with their claws hooked like burrs in my memory."

"You are not the sacrifice. But you contain the sacrifice."

"I carry that person with me. I will do so always."

"You will walk with me to the fire. You will burn the sacrifice from your shadow. The now-you will walk away."

I stiffened. A dream of demons battling with icy spears puffed up its spikes in my head, I bid it hold but did not dismiss it.

"I cannot do that, deity. The thing that sleeps in the penumbra of me is in my care. I am responsible for it. It is both burden and charge." I tightened my grip on the god's hand. "But if you wish it, we will both walk into the fire with you. For your sacrifice is not unearned."

The god was silent for a long moment, then, "We will go into the fire. But you will not burn. Not yet. You will stay with me. The sun will go down on us like a mountainfall. We will be dust and we will understand each other. Then this one will decide."

I probably should have taken time to think about this. I did not.

"Let us go then. For I have always been wanton for understanding."

---

Enjoy my stories and want to support my work? I'm currently fundraising for my live show. Check it out here: https://igg.me/at/poorlifechoices/x/8175219

#writing #microfiction #flash fiction #short story #writeblr #wtwcommunity

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themoonlightmeg · 1 day ago

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More Brennaolin "joy" ---

_______ ~Brennan POV~ Breathe, my little fighter.

My hand feels a little hot and I trace the lines with my forefinger, the skin is slightly raised on the mark left by the rune.

“Does it hurt at all?” Naolin questions, his head slightly cocked to the side.

I look up from my palm, “No, but it is weird to have a scar I didn’t earn,” I admit.

“I disagree,” Marbh protests. “You’ll earn that in every way, perhaps more deeply than your other wounds from today.” I feel that comment deep in my chest, but it’s not because Fen fucking Riorson shot me with an arrow.

“Yeah, well, it isn’t really about that,” Naolin’s pained gaze looks slightly sideways and he slowly stands, shoulders heavy with sorrow. He still reaches for me to help me, “Do you think you can stand, Bren?”

Naolin’s wavy curl covers his forehead and he pulls me up into his arms, putting as much of my weight on himself, and supporting me around my waist. Turned slightly into him like this and feeling so much of my body pressed against his, I can feel how shallow his breathing is, emotions just under the surface.

“Nao — I — I’m so sorry about Tairn,” He isn’t walking and leans us against a nearby wall. We slide down to sit on a rock ledge. His leg and mine are snugly against each other, his arm remains firmly around my waist, but I can’t tell if it’s to steady me, or himself. A breeze shuffles some leaves and the sun continues to soften in the hazy purple sky. It’s still way too quiet in this area of the mountains. A few trees line a nearby crevasse, which might lead to a cave or shelter of some sort. “What is going on in there?” I continue to prod, placing my palm over his heartspace. My Tyrrish wingleader boy looks sternly forward, avoiding my eyes.

“I can feel magic all around me now, Brennan. It’s like a buzzing call for me to pull more, though I’ll only ever really need more for one reason alone.” He looks up and grabs the hand on my chest, finally showing me his eyes again. It almost looks like the irises are slightly closer to their original hue. My mouth is on his before he can say another word. Thanking him, worshipping him for his sacrifice. I want to love him til he feels better, wash away the hurt. I wince as I turn toward him and feel the still slightly broken bones and muscles.

He backs up an inch, and studies my eyes, “You’re too hurt to sit up. Don’t move.” He pulls me in and inhales deeply as he presses his cheek into mine, and brings his hands behind my head and into my hair. “I’m just so glad you’re alive, I could drink you up, Brennan.” A desire builds deep in my core and I suddenly feel warm, despite my tattered clothing. The flight leathers are torn clear off my left leg. Naolin stands and damn if he isn’t just a little taller, and a little bulkier than me… he grabs my legs, scooping me into his muscled arms and moving across the clearing to the mouth of the cave. It’s further shaded by the two trees.

He quietly gets to work, busying himself with lighting a small fire. I don’t care if it’s to avoid talking right now, I enjoy our silences—the easiness of them. I wait for him to come to me. Naolin takes a look at my leg on display. Running a hand over the scars, and the roughness of the newly and rough-healed skin, he pauses where my leathers stop and rips the dangling bits, tying it so that it won’t be a nuisance. “There,” he remarks, making me smile. He sounds like an old granny sometimes.

Naolin slowly reclines next to me, his hands with fingers interlocked behind his head, eyes closed. “I deserve to stay in this cave until I starve to death,” he says, sighing. I cuddle right up to him, I know if he leaves this cave he’s likely to be murdered in cold blood for what he is, now.

“Nao did you know that the Venin were real? I know all about them, but I thought they were the villains in the fairytale. How did you even know to channel magic?”

“I don’t know, I think I just felt it because of my signet,” he paused, thinking for a moment, “I think I have always inwardly known the earth is imbued with magic. Maybe I could sense magic in objects because runic magic taught me a load about that. I’m not sure though.” In the dim light I can see he’s got a tear streaming down and into his hair, so I reach up and try to turn him toward me, wiping it away. But he turns sharply away from me, his back toward me now. I decide better not fight him too hard for now, so I just gently move in to spoon him from behind. His body softens a little as I move in closer.

“I just knew that I had to do it, and I knew it was the only way to keep you. It was selfish, maybe. I feel punished already at the loss of Tairn. It’s like half of my heart is gone. I can’t channel from him so I know I’m powerless without channeling again.” This realisation hadn’t dawned on me yet in all the aftermath, and imagining Naolin stripped of his power in any way is unthinkable. He’s by far the most powerful wielder and siphon in centuries, and even at Basgiath was respected by teachers and students alike. Normally wingleader-vibe was all about showing strength, skill and instilling fear in the quadrant. But the ranks of riders always respected Naolin for his skill and mind, and trusted him enough to follow him—he was charismatic. I think this was the first reason I fell for him, his natural politicking abilities were effortless and sexy as hell.

“Nao, love, I can’t pretend that I know all the answers for what’s next,” I squeeze him closer and wrap my arm around his waist, dragging my cold left leg up into the crook of his, for warmth. “I’m not sure, it could just be the near-death thing that’s going on in my head—but I don’t care what you are now, you’re here and I’m here, and I’m not afraid of you, you’re my Naolin.”

Shuffling a bit, Naolin turns toward me, propping himself on his elbow. The red rings in his eyes clearly visible in the firelight as. “Look at me,” I request. He does. “Your eyes are red from channeling.”

“I know, Tairn screamed it into my head earlier. Abomination is the word he used.”

Cupping his cheek, Naolin leans into my touch, and I get an idea. “I want to try something.”

He opens his eyes wide, and stern. “No. You are too weak, Bren. I’ll not let you use any more of your power.”

“Too bad you don’t get to tell me what to do anymore, wingleader,” I tease, reminding him exactly how well I like to listen when he commands.

More here on my 4th book fic: https://archiveofourown.org/works/64255600?view_full_work=true

#fourth wing #iron flame #onyx storm #the empyrean #rebecca yarros #empyreanevents2025 #brennaolinweek2025 #brennan sorrengail #brennaolin #brennan x naolin #naolin #naolin x brennan #empyrean appreciation week #fourth wing appreciation week #brennan sorrengail x reader #booklr #writeblr #ao3 fanfic

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fagulaa · 5 months ago

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Something I really love about the Silt Verses is how, in a world of gods and monsters, how grounded Faulkner's trauma [and relationship with his father] is. Especially as the season moves on, and the stakes amp up [and up] its so unexpectedly piercing to be presented with this exploration of childhood abandonment/negligence, inter-generational trauma, the indignities and stress that comes with unexpected elder care/early onset Alzheimer's. You're so locked in to these grander, more abstract concepts that your defenses are down! Mine were, anyway. TSV is so good at cutting its grand, complex plotlines with simpler [but not shallower] gutpunches, and it just grounds the whole thing.

#the silt verses #other moments on the list #[the list being small but emotionally devistating grounded moments]#include: the lights coming back on in the aftermath of the strike during hayward and carpenters conversation #and you just. intuit the devistation #after all that. after all the fighting and protest. the lights come back on. you can HEAR the screaming in the silence #Faulkner's whole elder care thing with his dad #where he has to reckon with him as a person who made mistakes #and put his own resolution aside to take care of a man he had complex feelings for #also the Faulkner's dad/trawlerman connection is crazy to me its crazy #oh you want to worship the god with the garden do you faulkner #you want to be this gods enterpriter and favorite #what did your father do again?#oh also the god rocket scene #where we are put in the place of a sacrifice #the claustrophobia! the fear! the tinned patriotic speech! the narrowing down to a needle point of the overall themes of the story #the fucking microcosm of it all!#all the sandwhich shop scenes #the whole hotel episode #charity in the pub running for her life because CARPENTER reappears #also love how interconnected everything is #both carpenter and page knowing von #running back into charity #fantastic writing all round it's all so fucking TIGHT my god #the prose is killer the pacing is killer the acting is killer the STRUCTURE is killer #its just a fucking masterclass of storytelling like its just. GREAT #top to bottom.#like the sheer skill involved in making something like TSV #on all levels #is incredible I really do admire it

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coloursofaparadox · 2 years ago

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i ✨️cannot sleep✨️ and vaguing about shit on the internet feels more cathartic than writing it out somewhere else. suffer.

#im having. thoughts. on one hand. VERY badly want woods and chicken farm.#on the other hand. i do actually like friends?#and the likelihood of making friends as a queer person in a small town is uh. yknow. not as good.#but idk if its important enough to me to put my life on hold indefinitely to create more ties to an area that ill eventually have to leave #if i ever want a chance at supporting myself financially or buying a tiny lil starter house?#ideal situation is i start a gay commune with like minded friends. but uh. people have not been good to me #on the whole 'trust em with your plans' front #sigh. idk. id love to be able to afford a place thats still in the general area but that is never going to happen #unless i can spontaneously manifest /literally/ a million dollars #i am done with romantic relationships i think. if one happens at some point? cool. but i am not basing my life plans around it.#and will not sacrifice my own peace and wellbeing just for the sake of one #god. looking for queer friends who want to live on a farm with me platnically and we all have our own space but #also raise animals together and hang out sometimes. and dogs are a requirement.#i just! want! queer commune! where i can go back to my own little bubble and have my own space too!#aaaaahhhhh!!!! albertas real estate is starting to look real good right about now!#ugh. u g h. i fluctuate wildly between 'im very VERY content not speaking to a human for a week at a time' and 'platonic life partner. pls.#maybe i just....take a page out of 18 yr old me's ballsy ass handbook. and uproot my entire life to move somewhere completely new #where i know no one have no connections and in a completely different climate 😎 it worked out last time #i could so just fuck off somewhere. oh my god it is so tempting.

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aprilisthecruelestmonth · 3 months ago

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April is the Cruelest Month Whump Event 2025!

Here we are again! The second year of AitCM!

It's a good month to whump our favorite characters!

In AitCM, to complete, you only have to write 15 days, and the other fifteen days you read & rec a fic that fits one the prompts for the day. (Feel free to create and promote art pieces as well!)

This not only makes it easier to fit into a busy schedule, but it helps promote your favorite writers!

You are more than welcome, of course, to write all thirty days or rec all thirty days—or both—but that is not necessary to complete the challenge.

Join us in filling the world with spectacular whump stories!

Tag us in your stories, recs, and art!

The prompt list for your convenience:

Day One:

Cornered-|-Whipped-|-Blood on hands-|- “Please… let me go”

Day Two:

Brave face-|-Branding-|-Self-sacrifice-|- “Pick on someone your own size”

Day Three:

Paranoia-|-Framed-|-Can’t Speak-|- “I don’t want to hear it”

Day Four:

Falling from a high place-|-Hunted-|-Fever-|- “I’m scared”

Day Five:

Slavery-|-Mind Control-|-Forced to beg-|- “It’s too late to ask for forgiveness”

Day Six:

Overprotective-|-Hidden Injury-|-Amputation-|- “I can’t do this”

Day Seven:

Panic Attack-|-Poisoned-|-Exhaustion-|- “No, no hospitals”

Day Eight:

Blackmail-|-Cursed-|-Made to watch-|- “Why did you do it?”

Day Nine:

Amnesia-|-Explosion-|-Failed Escape-|- “I don’t feel a pulse”

Day Ten:

Touch starved-|-Gunshots-|-Presumed Dead-|- “It’s your fault”

Day Eleven:

Nausea-|-Concussion-|-Secret Reveal-|- “Why did you come back?”

Day Twelve:

Dehydration-|-Tied up-|-Torture-|- “I wish you were dead”

Day Thirteen:

Explosion-|-Fainting-|-Fighting through the pain-|- “What did you say?”

Day Fourteen:

Medical Injury-|-Drugged-|-Pre-mortem Autopsy-|- “It’s not too late”

Day Fifteen:

Screams-|-Drowning-|-Fallen through the ice-|- “I’m so, so sorry”

Day Sixteen:

Sleep Deprivation-|-Choked-|-Hostage Situation-|- “Give them room to breathe”

Day Seventeen:

Phobias-|-Burned-|-Public Execution -|- “Just grin and bear it”

Day Eighteen:

Abandonment Issues-|-Used as Bait-|-Unconventional Weapon-|- “We can’t leave them”

Day Nineteen:

Stranded-|-Animal Bites-|-Self-surgery-|- “Not everyone makes it out”

Day Twenty:

Earthquake-|-Collapsed-|-Suffocation-|- “Everything hurts”

Day Twenty-One:

Stockholm Syndrome-|-Broken Bone-|-Withdrawl-|- “Don’t leave me here”

Day Twenty-Two:

Migraine-|-seizure-|-Running on Adrenaline -|- “Don’t speak”

Day Twenty-Three:

Confrontation-|-Stumbling-|-Scar Reveal-|- “Don’t let them in”

Day Twenty-Four:

Vengeance-|-Humiliated-|-A Game of Roulette-|- “Why can’t I move?”

Day Twenty-Five:

Stalker-|-Blindfolded-|-Friendly Fire-|- “You said you loved me”

Day Twenty-Six:

Infection-|-Beaten-|-Failed Escape -|- “It’s too late. They’re inside”

Day Twenty-Seven:

Weeping-|-Kidnapped-|-Running out of air-|- “It’s not my blood”

Day Twenty-Eight:

Over Work-|-Accident-|-Head Injury -|- “Where does it hurt?”

Day Twenty-Nine:

Windstorm-|-Broken Trust-|-No place to go-|- “I don’t want to talk about it”

Day Thirty:

Being Carried-|-Hyperventilating-|-Waking up disoriented-|- “I just need a hug”

Alt prompts:

1- Insomnia

2- Fall Guy

3- Whumper turned Caretaker

4- Twisted Knife

5- Pick who dies

6- Hot Coals

7- Ice Burns

8- Pulling Teeth

9- Waterboarding

10- Electrocution

Choose one or more of the prompts daily (or use an alt prompt) and get to work!

The minimum requirement is 100 words. It's not terribly strict. If 100 words seems too daunting, try to get as close as you can. There is no maximum word count, though.

Post your stories to our Ao3 collection:

https://archiveofourown.org/collections/April_is_the_Cruelest_Month_2025_Event

Do your best and get to whumping!

Special thanks to Lynn(justanotherinterneruser) for helping put this together. <3

#writing prompt #whump writing #whump prompt #writing #whump #whump tropes #whump community #whumpblr #Aprilisthecruelestmonth #aitcm2025

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leneemusing · 25 days ago

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devoted, yearning & obsessive

❝ you occupy my thoughts. day and night, even in dreams you're there. i want you to never stop haunting me. ❞

❝ i am eternally yours. until the stars go out. and maybe, even after that. ❞

❝ my heart bleeds the color of your soul. i would cut it out and put it in your palms if i could. ❞

❝ it's like you have knit yourself around my ribs. i could no more cut you out than i could remove my own lungs. ❞

❝ you are woven into my soul and i dare not cut a single thread. ❞

❝ i am yours, body and soul, to do with as you wish. ❞

❝ i don't require you to love me back, or to care for me as i do you. only let me be here, let me devote myself to you. that would be enough. ❞

❝ i want to trap your smile in a bottle and take it out when no one else can see. ❞

❝ you belong to me and i to you. ❞

❝ do not look away from me. i cannot bear it when i do not occupy your vision. ❞

❝ i will follow you. to the ends of the earth, to the very gates of hades and whatever might lay beyond. ❞

❝ i will always be here. no matter how far you go you can always come home to me. ❞

❝ tell me all the places you have been hurt, every rejection, every scar. let me love you in all the places where you have burned. ❞

❝ i will not ever let you go. ❞

❝ you cannot escape this. you cannot run away from the love we share. ❞

❝ what we have is deeper than words could capture. ❞

❝ i will be anything you desire. i pluck out the parts of me you find distasteful and stuff your love in the craters left behind. ❞

❝ tell me what you wish of me and i will do it. ❞

❝ i could spend all day merely watching the air in your lung. i would count every blink. i would cherish every sigh from your lips. i could watch you merely exist for the rest of my life. ❞

❝ don't let go of me. i think if you lost me i would die. ❞

❝ i will cut out the tongues of every man who has wronged you. ❞

❝ i wish i could crawl inside you and make a home out of the hollows of your bones. ❞

ACTIONS:

WATCH: for sender to watch receiver sleep.

WATCHED: for sender to wake up and find receiver watching over them.

DISCOVER: for sender to find a journal full of sketches receiver made of them and sender finds them looking at it.

DISCOVERED: for receiver to find a journal full of sketches receiver made of them.

FOLLOW: for sender to stalk receiver, claiming they're doing it to protect them.

FOLLOWED: for receiver to stalk sender and claim they're protecting them.

GOING: for sender to take receiver to a secluded cabin for a romantic getaway.

GONE: for receiver to take sender to a secluded cabin for a romantic getaway.

SACRIFICE: for sender to kill someone who wronged receiver as a grand gesture.

SACRIFICED: for receiver to kill someone who wrong sender as a grand gesture.

CAUGHT: for sender to catch receiver staring at them.

CATCHING: for receiver to catch sender staring at them.

REVEAL: for sender to slowly undress themselves while receiver watches, but doesn't touch.

REVEALED: for receiver to slowly undress themselves while sender watches, but doesn't touch.

BATHE: for sender to bathe receiver, meticulously and tenderly as if serving them.

BATHED: for receiver to bathe sender, meticulously and tenderly as if serving them.

#rp memes #rp prompts #inbox memes #roleplay memes #roleplay prompts #askbox memes #ask memes #inbox prompt #sentence starters

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vexwerewolf · 4 months ago

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Harrison Armory

I think a lot of people fundamentally misunderstand Harrison Armory, Lancer fans on Tumblr especially.

Harrison Armory is not Nazi Germany. Harrison Armory doesn't actually have an exact parallel on modern-day Earth, and it would be difficult to draw them without potentially insensitive implications.

I think the closest parallel I can draw is late-stage Obama-era America, with a lot of Nordic-style public investment and China's Social Credit system.

People depicting the Armory as a cold, grind-obsessed hypercapitalist nightmare are thinking of IPS-N. The Armory looks after its citizens, at least in as much as happy workers are productive workers. Even as a colonial subject, you can expect a decent standard of living simply because they don't answer solely to shareholders - for better or for worse, the Armory has a vision, an insistence upon the dignity of Humanity which wouldn't allow them to let you live in squalor. This is a cold, haughty kind of beneficence - they don't care about you per se, it's just that allowing you to suffer would reflect poorly on them.

You will get healthcare. You will get free, frequent public transit that you might not even need to use, since every city is walkable. You will get clean water, healthy food and safe streets. You will get frequent vacations and as many sick days as you need. No matter your ethnicity, birth gender, gender identity, religion, sexuality, physical or mental ability, the Armory has a place for you. The Armory does not discriminate.

The Armory is expansionist, for sure, but it chooses its new acquisitions carefully - Diasporan worlds under the thumb of ruthless dictators, repressive theocracies, avaricious hypercapitalist oligarchs. If you're a colonial subject, the Armory have likely liberated you from tyrants.

What do you give in return? Complete cultural obedience.

You will not cause a disturbance. You will not rock the boat. You will not question the benevolent system that gave you this abundance. The Armory gives you all the choices that really matter to someone like you: eat what you want, shop where you want, buy what you want - after all, every shop, every café, every restaurant is an Armory subsidiary, so whatever cuisine you favour, whatever brand of dataslate you prefer, the Armory is making back most of the salary they pay you. The Armory puts a roof over your head. The Armory protects you from the wolves at the door. The Armory even lets you vote on your local representatives (they've all got spotless Socials, so you know that no matter who you choose, they're loyal, attentive citizens). Are you not happy? Are you not grateful?

Show us. Show us you're grateful. Show up to the Foundation Day parade. Salute the statues of Harrisons I (PRAISE THE DIRECTOR GENERAL, LONG MAY HE SERVE), II (PRAISE THE DIRECTOR GENERAL, LONG MAY HE SERVE) and III (PRAISE THE DIRECTOR GENERAL, LONG MAY HE SERVE). Recite the Pledge. Volunteer for the local Guard Corps - or better yet, the Colonial Legion. Don't you care about your community? Aren't you proud of your nation? Don't you want to give back? Aren't you a good citizen?

What's that? Dissent? You little shit! You ungrateful little worm! After all we've done for you, after all this Great Nation has sacrificed for you, you dare ask for more? Harrison I (PRAISE THE DIRECTOR GENERAL, LONG MAY HE SERVE) sacrificed himself on Union's altar for us - for YOU! Harrison II (PRAISE THE DIRECTOR GENERAL, LONG MAY HE SERVE) died refusing to bend the knee, refusing to sacrifice our freedom - YOUR LIBERTY! Harrison III (PRAISE THE DIRECTOR GENERAL, LONG MAY HE SERVE) tours the Purview to see and hear your fellow countrymen and address their concerns, and you dare question his right to rule? The Steward Council is comprised of only his most trusted advisors - do you doubt their commitment to our values?

We live in the best and brightest era of human civilization, the problems of the past all behind us, and all you can think about is ways to drag us all down. You ungrateful, shiftless, lazy little bastard. You want me to call the local Social board? See how they feel about your profile? If you don't feel like the Armory is doing enough for you? Well, let's see how you like it when the Armory does nothing for you. You clearly don't have the spirit or the courage to be truly free.

Ugh, dissenters, am I right? Fuck, sorry about that, folks. Yeah, that was... intense! Anyway, let's not let that whole sordid ordeal ruin this party. Let's all just chill, take an edible, and celebrate what we came here to celebrate - the Colonial Legion incorporated its first all-trans Genghis brigade! What a win for progressivism, right? You'd never see that in the Trade Baronies! Praise the Director General! Long may he serve!

#harrison armory #lancer #lancer rpg #lancerrpg #lancer-rpg

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cerusee · 9 days ago

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@amedetoiles’s great tags per usual

Lotta takes that are like "Jiang Cheng didn't change his behaviour at all in 13 years, that proves that he doesn't want to grow as a person" and it's like, sorry but why would he change his behaviour when the information that would recontextualise Wei Wuxian's actions and thus lead him to rethink his own reactions was deliberately kept hidden from him? From his perspective, his brother broke all his promises for no goddamn reason, picked a different family over him, lost control of the evil energy he swore he could control, and in doing so caused such a catastrophe that both of Jin Ling's parents were killed. We know that there's more to that story, but he doesn't, and it would be impossible for him to find out on his own because again, everyone involved was lying to him and hiding the relevant information on purpose.

He's told about the golden core transfer like three hours before the book ends, and frankly processes it faster than most people could reasonably be expected to after 13 years of grief and loneliness! "He had chances to improve his behaviour and didn't" HE LITERALLY DIDN'T HAVE ANY CHANCES BECAUSE WWX LIED TO HIM!! His behaviour was completely justified from his perspective and when his perspective is changed, and he realises that what he did was wrong, he's like, SUPER upset about it!

#the untamed #Yunmeng bros #once again I am banging the drum that the bad communication is not because they’re incapable #it’s willful #the silence arounf the golden core transfer poisoned their relationship #it gave WWX a secret to hide #and a loss that emotionally festered within him probably moreso BECAUSE he couldn’t admit to it #much deal with with all the horrible feelings he had about living with the loss #(we know how this man deals with the bad feelings!)#now arguably you could put some of that on JC and his own silence about how he lost his core #I cannot imagine any version of WWX taking that news well #but I do think knowing what had happened would probably result in there being no core transfer #like if he could made to understand that JC absolutely would not want his cultivation back at WWX’s expense #he REALLY had to work himself up to that decision! it was monumental! he needed very badly to believe #that this sacrifice was worth it to save JC’s life #knowing that JC would die for him would probably give him a lil pause on that huge self-sacrifice #if nothing else I think WN and WQ would be like #mmm. maybe let’s wake up the patient and ask him before we commit to this on WWX’s analysis of JC’s character alone #anyway the problem with JC needing to be up front about his own self-sacrifice #is that he barely has the chance to process what happened to him before they sent him to Lalaland for being such a downer #it’s not like WWX asked him what happened and he lied #WWX made assumptions and did not bother to confirm them #and post-core transfer JC thinks BSSR gave him a new core at the eminently bearable cost of WWX missing out on the chance to ask her a favor #and therefore that the circumstances under which he lost his core in the first place are not relevant and do not need to be shared #this is the part where they’re ships passing in the night #this is the fundamental root of the relationship/communication breakdown #not wanting to deal with the consequences of the other one knowing what they sacrified for them #and so staying silent about it when it desperately needed to be dealt with on both sides #THAT’S the gift of the magi baby #WWX is worse in general but JC is just as much a part of THIS communication fuckup. and he’s still withholding the truth at the end…

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keferon · 5 months ago

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My hands are shaky and my head is refusing to work properly! But! I made it!

The Blurr chapter for Mecha au >:D

Blurr's job is not to fight for humanity.

Blurr's job is to smile for the camera and take the applause of people who praise him for his bravery and sacrifice. Blurr's job is to sell his face, his voice and his skills to millions of viewers. He must impress investors, show off advanced technology and make a determined face saying that to save mankind he is ready for anything. And then get in a luxury car and drive off to some expensive place to burn a whole bunch of zeros out of his paycheck.

He's not someone who stays after work to help his coworkers. And he's not the one who spends his nights trying to save as many people as possible. He signs autographs, makes big statements, and promises people he'll protect them.

And people believe him.

And they love him.

Swerve is sick of this spectacle. Swerve is sick of this man.

Under the cut

————————————

Nobody likes Blurr.

Okay, if you think on a large scale, everyone loooves Blurr. His face is on every poster, his brand is in every possible store, his voice and is in every cool commercial. You literally can't exist without knowing who Blurr is, or at least seeing his face once. It's a “Luke I'm your father” level phenomenon. How massive a rock do you have to live under to miss something like that?

Everybody loves Blurr. You can go buy a t-shirt with his face on it. You can go listen to his interviews or purchase a tiny replica of his action figure. There are incredibly many ways a Blurr fan can blow a hole in their budget.

Swerve knows, because he's done it many times. And recently, it's stopped being something he's proud of. To be precise, it was exactly four days ago when Blurr first stepped into his office. Swerve had just finished his shift and was finishing his tea when his boss suddenly appeared in the doorway, with the best racer in the world right behind him.

The tea was instantly dropped, adrenaline was released, and the brain was turned off.

In that moment, Swerve thought that this is what it must look like. The moment when all your good karma comes together in one pile to reward you for all the times you dropped a sandwich butter side down or missed a deadline.

Both of which happened with annoying regularity. Swerve is unlucky. Sometimes things seem to fall through his hands.

It started out great.

Swindle, their boss, showed up in the office space one day looking simultaneously jubilant, nervous, and very inspired. Usually on such occasions, Swerve could almost see the dollar signs reflected in his boss's glasses.

“Attention everyone. We have an important guest arriving in an hour.”

Swindle expressively pushed his glasses down on his nose and looked around the room

“I promised him a tour and I expect you all to behave yourselves.”

He meticulously looks around the floor beneath his feet

“Send someone to clean up all the trash. This place is unbelievably filthy. The floors should be sparkling in twenty minutes! And, oh! Hey you, go buy some good drinks.”

Having finished inspecting the floor Swindle hurriedly runs off, probably to say the same thing to the neighboring department.

Swerve stretches his neck out curiously, listening in

“Is the president coming to see us?”

Walking by, Jazz shrugs

“When the president was coming Swindle said the floor was dirty and made him wear boot covers.”

It's not the president

Swindle gestures generously to the entire office at once and looks overall like a bird trying his best to primp up

“And here we have the engineering department offices. In the next building is the assembly plant, that's where the mechs are put on their feet so to speak. And this is where all the computing, design, and planning happens.”

Just over his shoulder stands and looks around at none other than

Oh, dear God.

Swerve's tea flies to the floor next to his thought processes.

He's seen Blurr countless times, but never in person. How can this guy look as good in person as he does in expensive retouched-until-squeaky-clean photos? Mystery.

Blurr's gaze slides lazily over the simple office setting and for those two seconds when it's directed at Swerve it feels like sheer madness. He tries to look normal. He's not sure he's succeeding, but he's making an effort.

Swindle waltzes through the office, heading for the next door

“Come on I'll show you the mech hangar.”

Blurr grins.

“A highlight of the show I suppose~”

His voice is like a needle bursting a ball of stunned silence. People begin to rise from their seats and scramble to say hello. Someone asks for an autograph, others ask for a bunch of selfies, a couple people in the corner hastily fix their hair, one of the employees just pulls out his phone and shamelessly starts filming.

Swindle looks at the this with an unchanging commercial smile, but his gaze promises all kinds of punishment.

Perhaps if it had been the president, the buffoonery would have been smaller.

______________

For the next few days, Blurr is the big news and the center of all discussion.

Officially? He's becoming one of the pilots in the Mecha program.

In fact? Swindle's greedy soul couldn't get enough of the idea that the Mech concept could be monetized.

The dust is blown off Blurr and his boots are licked. He doesn't go to general training, he doesn't participate in ordinary or overly dangerous missions. He's allowed everything and a little more. His job is to look pretty on camera, speak his lines, smile and wink. He's a walking advertisement and Swindle's incredibly powerful tool in negotiating with investors.

Swerve once saw him called to a negotiation in the middle of the night, and even sleep-deprived and exhausted after a full day of filming, Blurr had the strength to pull that charming expression on his face and flawlessly play along with Swindle wherever he needed to.

His mech was a work of art. And that's not even an exaggeration. Usually the main purpose of mechs is to be efficient and practical. Blurr's Mech was made separately and so many people worked on its design that it could have its own end credits. It's beautiful, sleek, shiny and show-offy. It's designed to be awe-inspiring, but not so decorated that it's ridiculous.

When Swerve looks at its specs, he almost feels sick. Maneuverability, mobility, everything is absolutely top-notch. But most importantly, speed.

The technology to accelerate Mechs to incredible speeds has been around for some time, but the average robot doesn't reach even half of the technically possible maximum. Because even the fastest machine can't outrun the human brain.

After a certain threshold, pilots are no longer capable of controlling their own Mech. Human reaction speed is simply not enough to maneuver without crashing into anything or losing their orientation in space. And. Well. Without losing consciousness.

This has led to Mech manufacturers sort of tacitly agreeing on a rough speed limit and tending to stick to it. Just to make the technology safer and more suitable for everyone.

Regardless. Everyone except Blurr apparently.

Because the numbers across from his Mech's speed specs are horrifying. Swerve looks at the blueprints and thinks it's either freaking awesome or absolute suicide. Maybe something in between. Can a human being have reflexes like that? What about this turning mechanism? The numbers tell him that these levels of g-force make a large percentage of pilots just pass out.

Is Blurr really going to pilot this death wagon??

To achieve that kind of speed and mobility, they'd have to cut off half the armor or make it very light. Which would almost be like inviting a dangerous injury.

But if the Mech is made primarily to flaunt rather than fight...well... it probably makes sense.

Swerve's inner fan is sliding down the wall.

Blurr is incredible. And what's even more incredible is that he's kind of sort of almost Swerve's coworker now.

It only takes him a couple days to realize.

Everyone loves Blurr.

But the one who loves Blurr the most is Blurr himself.

The rose-tinted glasses are breaking slowly but surely. On the first day, Sverve walks up on shaky legs to get introduced. He tells himself that this is definitely not an attempt to get an autograph. They're coworkers. He's just...uh...greeting a new employee.

Blurr looks slightly bored.

“You're from this department....uh.. What's its name, whatever.”

Swerve clutches his hands in front of him so he doesn't accidentally drop anything

“OH.Uh yeah. Swerve! Engineering Department. You were there on a tour the other day. I usually work in the assembly plant, making armor for Mechs, developing new alloys. But I design too! I, uh.

(Don't talk about Blurr. Don't talk about Blurr. Don't talk about Blurr. Don't talk about Blurr. Don't talk about Blurr. Don't talk about Blurr. Don't talk about Blurr. He'll think you're a crazy fan. Don't talk about Blurr.)

Blurr starts to get sidetracked by his phone.

Swerve swallows awkwardly.

“I'm uh. I'm a big fan of yours. Sir.”

(Good job...)

Blurr chuckles softly and offers out his hand

“Well, nice to meet you.”

Sverve's hand is shaking like crazy, he hopes he isn't squeezing too hard. Working in the assembly has made his hands rough. Blurr's narrow, soft palm is almost sinking in his grip.

“ 'Nice to meet you, yes. Nice to meet you sir! If you, ah, if you have any problems or questions or uh, well. You know, if you need help with your Mech or upgrades or or.”

Blurr chuckles.

“I'll be counting on you~”

Swerve feels like his soul is about to break away from his body.

The next, day when they cross paths in the hallway Blurr waves to him.

“Hey you. Whatever your name is. Can you tell me how to get to Block D?

Swerve stops awkwardly.

“Ah. Of course! I'm Swerve sir. Come, I'll show you.”

Blurr smiles a beautiful, ad-libbed smile and follows him in

“Thank you darling.”

From this point on, the entire program gradually learns a simple but unpleasant truth.

Blurr is an asshole.

And nobody likes him.

He always has everyone at his beck and call. You rarely get to see him on his own. There's always someone swirling around him with a guilty or annoyed face. A sort of serve-get-show-explain designated poor guy.

Swindle treats Blurr like a precious antique vase.

Blurr treats people like his servants.

The whole world is in love with the glittering cover, the image polished to a squeak. Until recently, Swerve was doing the same thing. Now it feels more like an embarrassing crush.

Blurr still doesn't remember his name. He actually remembers at most three to four people by name, and calls everyone else “hey you” or “ darling”. After Swerve reintroduced himself to him for the fourth time he just sort of...stopped trying.

On the field, Blurr is incredible. No one can deny that. The tremendous speed of his Mech leaves all the other pilots in the dust. Whoever said human reflexes weren't fast enough? HA. When Swerve sees his reports and results, he gets dizzy.

The combination of such incredible speeds and light armor means Blurr simply can't miss. If he hesitates, if he falters. If he gets confused. The whole metal thing will smash him to smithereens.

And yet Blurr comes back untouched time after time.

Swerve's no longer inclined to think it's just because of his mad skills. He knows that Swindle is paying Blurr a lot of money for his cooperation. No one would let Blurr fight on the front lines, no. It would be too dangerous. He has to do just enough so that Swindle can record a commercial and in it call Blurr a badass pilot without adding small print to that statement.

Blurr's job is not to fight for humanity.

He's not someone who stays after work to help his coworkers. And he's not the one who spends his nights trying to save as many people as possible. But he is the first person every citizen would name if asked to say something about the Mech program. He signs autographs, makes big statements, and promises people he'll protect them.

And people believe him.

And they love him.

A month later, he still can't remember anyone's names and sometimes calls people by the colors of their clothes, laughing as if they should take it as a cute joke.

Swerve is sick of this spectacle. Swerve is sick of this man.

That's okay.

It's not like fanboying over Blurr is Swerve's only passion.

He gets upset.

Then he gets mad and rips down all the posters.

Then he has no time to be angry because Swindle wants to launch Mechs into outer space and damn it, Jazz flies off the planet and doesn't fucking come back. The engineering department stays up nights trying to figure out where he's gone, but they can't.

Unlike Blurr, everybody loved Jazz.

Unlike Blurr, Jazz deserved every ounce of that love.

The ground beneath his feet is starting to shake.

At first, all that happens is panic. Everyone starts making a confused noise, someone assumes an earthquake.

A voice on the speakers says that everyone needs to evacuate immediately, but no one hears it because huge mechanical tentacles start coming through the windows and the whole building starts shaking, creaking and crumbling.

Sverve has seen the monsters humanity has to fight many times. But never this close. And their size leaves him absolutely terrified. These things are huge, they take up all visible space. And what's most damning is that they can break down the walls around Swerve like a fucking cookie.

He's gonna die. Oh god he's going to die, he's going to die, he's going to die, he's going to die, he's going to die, he's going to die, he's going to die here under this stupid rubble or get eaten or turned into one of the ugly bloody stains on the wall. His heart is doing a million beats a minute and his eyes are starting to sting. He tries to get to the emergency exit, but the door is blocked by one of the huge toothy creatures that is actively trying to get in.

Next to him, Swindle is shouting to someone on his comm, trying to sound louder than the rumble of the collapsing building and the hungry aliens.

The floor tilts at a very disturbing angle and Swerve grabs one of the interior doorways to stay in place. A second later, he reaches out and pulls Swindle, who has already slowly begun to slip toward the monster's huge hungry maw, to the same doorway.

Swindle grabs onto the frame of the door and Swerve at the same time. His glasses are cracked and his usually neat expensive coat is all dust and debris.

“It was a trap.”

Swerve can't hear a word over the grinding of breaking structures.

“What?”

Swindle almost slips and falls, but Swerve grabs him by the scruff of his coat and puts him back on his feet. Working in an assembly shop gives a man strong arms and right now he's very grateful for it.

Swindle makes a second, louder attempt

“It was a trap!!! All available pilots are now on the other side of the country! I've called for backup, but who knows how fast they'll get here.”

A smooth, silky voice comes from a walkie-talkie strapped to his coat.

“Ouch Swindle. So little faith in my professional skills?”

Swindle rounds his eyes

“Blurr??! Where are you!”

Blurr's voice sounds...not quite as it usually does. It's missing the habitual lazy note. The one that makes him sound like the whole world owes him money.

“Give me another minute and the answer will be 'here'.”

The building shakes again. Swindle swears so eloquently that Swerve can't help but admire it.

Swerve can't stand Blurr's smug face, but when he spots the first glimpse of blue metal in the window, joy floods his brain.

He usually associates Blurr with dumb nicknames, dismissive treatment, and commercials.

Now he watches the sleek, fast Mech lunge fearlessly at the monsters surrounding the building and thinks that. Fuck this. He's an asshole, but if he buys Swerve enough time to evacuate, he'll bring him a thank you card or something later. Though it's unlikely Blurr will care about that of course.

Swindle continues to shout instructions over the walkie-talkie. Swerve basically drags him outside by. He jumps up probably a full meter when very near him one of the monsters falls to the ground.

Blurr's Mech stands proudly on top of the fresh corpse and looks...actually really bad. Swerve knows that this particular robot was not built for rough, open confrontation. Its armor is too thin. Designed for speed and agility, not strength. He assembled it himself, after all.

Many of the plates are crumpled. Some are torn off. His legs are intact, but one of the joints sparks funny.

Blurr quickly looks around and Swerve unwittingly follows his example. The whole place is on fire. Office buildings are in ruins and a huge column of black smoke rises above the assembly plant.

Blurr's Mech drops to the ground and gets down on one knee. The plates on its chest are pulled aside and Blurr sticks his head out of the cockpit while simultaneously opening the visor on his helmet.

“Everyone okay?”

Swindle clutches the walkie-talkie

“The office areas are empty, but there still could be people left on the lower floors of the assembly plant. But we have no access there!”

Blurr drums his fingers quickly on the metal plate

“Fire?”

Swindle shrugs his dusty shoulders

“Something exploded at the bottom of the building. It's a real smelter down there.

Even if we send a Mech, it won't last more than a minute before it overheats. Or make the building collapse.”

Blurr's gaze becomes focused. Sharp. Swerve has seen that look many times on tough front line fighters like Jazz. On Blurr, never.

“'That's enough time for me.”

Swindle waves his hands

“Are you crazy?”

Blurr slaps his palm against the armor of his Mech

“This baby is light. Lighter than anything you've got! If anyone can do it without dropping the building, it's me. They make Mechs in the assembly hall, it's got high ceilings right?”

Swerve wants to snap. He wants to throw his hands up angrily and yell something along the lines of “you were literally there!”

Who else is down there on those lower floors??? Tailgate? Maybe Wheeljack? If something exploded, Wheeljack was definitely there. And probably closest to the explosion.

Swindle curses furiously, but retreats and runs off to give orders to someone else.

“”Be a hero if you want, but I'm not going in there. For all I know there could be melting metal in there instead of a floor! It's just not reasonable.”

Swerve's brain stumbles over that statement. Why...Swindle is acting like he's being forced to climb into that building too...?

Blurr looks nervous.

“You know what. Fine. I got it. Hey, you--”

And there it is. The good old namelesness.

Blurr pays no attention to Swerve's frowning face, nor his hands shaking with fear

“ You're familiar with those buildings. You know who was there and where to find them right? I need you to walk me through.”

Swerve feels the urge to snap again and this time doesn't hold it back

“If you cared about something other than yourself, you'd know this damn building and the people who work in it too and !”

“I don't fucking remember!” Blurr interrupts him.

Swerve doesn't have time to put anything in after that. Though a sarcastic comment is begging to be made.

Blurr quickly takes off his helmet and wipes the sweat off his forehead.

“I don't remember okay! This isn't a fad or posing or whatever else you think of me. This is what an accident can do to you if you miss a turn! I can't remember shit, okay?! Do you need a medical report?!”

Swerve just...stands there with his mouth open and probably looks like an idiot.

Blurr nervously tucks back his disheveled hair. The longer he talks, the faster he does it.

“Now. I know you don't want to die in a pit of fire. But I need your help to save them. Don't do anything, just take the map. I promise I won't let you die.”

He sounds determined. And holds out his hand to Swerve, silently inviting him to climb up onto the Mech.

His face is stained in sticky dust, his hair is an absolute mess, and his narrow palm is covered in streaks of soot. It's as if he's been dragged face down a muddy road.

He's. Very Handsome, Swerve thinks.

He takes his hand.

Blurr helps him up, pushes him into the space next to the pilot's seat, and closes the cockpit.

“Been inside a working Mech ever?”

Swerve clenches his hands nervously on the back of the seat

“No.”

The lights of the consoles around him come to life as Blurr puts on his helmet. The space around him hums. It's a strange noise. At once unsettling and calm.

Mech feels alive, he thinks. Then corrects himself. Blurr is mind-linked to this Mech. This Mech can technically be considered alive in a sense.

Blurr moves one of the monitors toward him and opens the map.

“Just mark the path here. Don't touch anything else. And hold on tight. I won't be going too fast anyway, but it'll be shaky.”

Swerve swallows nervously.

“Understood.”

After that, everything turns into motion. Watching the Mech work while being inside is mesmerizing.

Blurr doesn't say much, concentrating on the controls. His hands aren't shaking anymore, Swerve notices. Not even a little.

He steers the machine forward confidently and smoothly, dodging falling debris and avoiding the biggest pockets of fire without panic or hesitation.

He's also strictly following the path Swerve is laying out for him.

The air filtration system is doing well so far. Swerve can feel the smell of burning and the heat slowly creeping up, but it's bearable for now. For now.

They find a man on the nearside of the emergency exit.

Two more people a floor below. A small group stuck in the elevator.

Wheeljack's on the doorstep of his lab.

Blurr pulls them all out. Picks up the first group of people and carries them outside, goes back into the fiery furnace, finds more survivors, pulls them out, goes back, searches, rescues, goes back, searches, rescues.

The heat is coming up. Swerve can feel it. The plates around him are getting hot. The air smells like burnt wires.

Blurr’s Mech wasn't designed for this kind of thing.

His Mech was made to flash for the camera and accelerate to impossible speeds. To deceive and confuse the enemy. Its armor is thin and cools easily in the air, which usually helps it avoid overheating.

This also means that this Mech heats up very quickly as well.

Now, with the air around him feeling like a red-hot frying pan, Swerve regrets not saying anything back then. He regrets that he didn't make any changes to the blueprint.

More and more warnings pop up on the screens. The map stopped working correctly some time ago and Swerve is forced to give directions verbally.

He nervously grips the back of the pilot seat with one hand and, without noticing, Blurr's shoulder with the other.

Blurr carries two more people outside and hands them to the rescuers. Then turns back to the building again and. OH FUCK. Right in front of him, a huge crack begins to creep along the structure. This thing is on the verge of collapse. The roof is already starting to fold down in a very bad way.

Swerve clenches his grip fearfully and hears Blurr hiss through his teeth.

Suddenly, the cockpit opens. The fresh air of the street feels like a cold sledgehammer blow after the heat and stuffiness of the lower levels.

Swerve is about to ask something, but doesn't have time because Blurr uses Mech's hand to gently but quickly pull him outside and set him on the ground.

“You were going to mark another spot.”

Swerve nods hurriedly.

“Tailgate is still there.”

Blurr wrinkles his face.

Swerve corrects himself and clarifies

“Bright blue uniform. Short. Considering all the places we've been, I think he's in the staff quarters. It's...”

He chews his fingers, trying to remember numbers and directions without a map

“...two floors down, left, another floor down and straight ahead.”

As he speaks Blurr bends over the side of the open cockpit and spits...blood on the ground. His nose is bleeding, Swerve realizes. That's not good. It's a clear sign of a malfunctioning neural connection. Or damage to his respiratory system? Possibly both.

Blurr doesn't seem to notice his worried look

“Two down, left down then. Shit. Wait. Two down, left then down, straight ahead yeah?”

Swerve nods.

Blurr keeps repeating these directions like a mantra. A very fast and creepy mantra.

His gaze roams strangely and his breaths sound hoarse. His teeth and chin are covered in blood and his face is streaked with soot.

Swerve understands. He's about to do another go.

Two down, left, down, straight. Two down, left, down, straight. Two down, left, down, straight.

Alone. He's going, and he's going to fry himself alive in there for a stranger he doesn't even remember.

Swerve doesn't have time to say anything. What's he gonna say? Stop? But he wants to save Tailgate? Go on, I believe in you? But it's certain death.

Swerve rarely has nothing to say, but this time he can't find the right words.

Blurr wipes the blood with his sleeve, wrinkles his nose, and storms off, heading back into the flaming mess the plant has become.

Not twenty seconds later, the roof collapses, spewing a huge cloud of smoke, ash, and fire into the sky.

Swerve wrinkles his shirt nervously in his hands.

The walls are still in place, right? If the roof is gone but the walls are still standing it's... it's. It's.

Damn it. He's trying to remember the blueprints. It means the ejector will work. It means Blurr can still get out through the top. That--

Blurr's not getting out. As the small, bright blue escape pod appears above the falling walls of the building, Swerve feels his brain stop. Remember the blueprints, remember the damn blueprints. The Mech is light, the design is compact, the space in the pod is for only one person.

In the capsule lies an unconscious Tailgate.

Swindle grasps the radio

“Blurr? BLURR!”

Swerve looks at the smoke and ash and feels numb. He doesn't want to be here anymore. He has to know. He doesn't...

He feels weird. The same kind of weird as when objects fly seemingly through him. Everything just stops being real.

The thought comes out of nowhere. You don't have to obey the rules. You can see more. Just look.

He's not sure how or why he's doing it.

No one around him is paying much attention to him. Everyone's busy with survivors and damage assessment or just stunned by the chaos.

And him? He disappears.

And then he appears at the bottom. Under the rubble.

All around him is ugly, molten and red-hot chaos, but he doesn't care anymore. He feels like whatever is happening is about to end and he just has to be in time. Time for him to find out.

Blurr's Mech lies crushed by the fallen roof. Its cockpit is open. A gaping hole where his chest was, the place where the escape pod had undocked.

Wall debris has pinned him in a crooked, grotesque pose.

Blurr is here. His legs are wedged between crumpled metal plates inside the cockpit, leaving him hanging upside down. His suit is charred. Half of his face is destroyed. It looks like a horrible bloody and burned mess. It's ugly and gruesome.

Blurr opens his only working eye and gives Swerve a cloudy look.

“I must be seeing things...”

Swerve shrugs in daze. He knows he shouldn't be here.

Blurr spits up a mouthful of blood

“I'm sorry I hurt you uh...”

“Swerve.”

“Yes. Swerve. It's hard for me to remember things unless they're...akgh...hell... not in my face all the time.”

Swerve moves closer and frowns

“You know, that explains but doesn't excuse you.”

Blurr closes his eye and coughs. That sounds really bad.

“No...I guess not.”

He huffs off the blood again. The burned half of his face is oozing with it. The blood runs down his forehead, collecting in a small puddle on the floor.

“It was better than letting everyone know what's wrong with me. I can't even begin to think about the amount of messes I'd be dragged into.”

Swerve notes that the fire seems to be getting closer.

This whole bit of dialog is so unnatural. Who even talks about that kind of stuff before they die. On the other hand. Well. Character development?

“So you think it's better to have everyone assume you're a jerk than that you got your head screwed on?”

Blurr wrinkles his nose.

“ You're a very specific kind of ghost.”

Swerve shoves his hands in his pockets and looks away

“I needed to know. Before you die.”

“That's ...akghhh...ha....it's good to know. Can you tell me something Swerve? As..agh...

As a last wish?”

Swerve shrugs again. He stares at the dripping blood. At the ugly, bubbling burns. At the burst vessels in his eye and the paths of blood from his bleeding nose. He looks at the broken and scorched and dying bloody mess.

He looks at Blurr.

And he thinks, until today, he didn't really love Blurr. Not with the posters and figurines. Not with the disdain and dislike.

He loved an image. And hated an image.

He reaches out and tries to touch Blurr's hand, but goes through it.

“I'm sorry. But we're both not really here. And I have to go.”

He can feel the cold metal around him, which is strange because he's standing in the middle of smoking and burning ruins

“But if it makes you happy, I guess you're my favorite character after all.”

Blurr doesn't answer. Swerve isn't sure he even heard him.

The feeling of metal around him grows sharper.

Someone shines a flashlight in his face.

Swerve blinks stupidly and tries to move away.

The unknown Autobot medic standing over him smiles happily and puts the flashlight away

“Welcome back. You've been in a coma Primus knows how long.”

The other medic to the side frowns

“You have zero tact.”

Swerve blinks his optics puzzled, raises his servo and for a while just stares at it like some movie character. All around him is an Autobot medbay. Metal walls. Metal instruments. And him. Metal.

Yes. Seems so. That's the way he's always been. That's right.

“Doc, you won't believe what kind of weird dream I had.”

___________

Swerve feels like he's going crazy.

He's standing in the middle of a hallway on one of the Autobot ships, and he's staring. shamelessly.

There's Prowl standing at the end of the hallway. And on his shoulder is...

“ JAZZ????”

Both bot and human turn around abruptly at his scream. And both look equally puzzled.

Jazz waves his hand

“Do I know you?”

Swerve is definitely going crazy. It's Jazz. The same one. From his...dream??? But he's real and tangible??? Sitting on Prowl's shoulder, talking and breathing and being seen by everyone not only Swerve????

“You're...real...?”

Jazz raises his eyebrows

“I am. Yes. Really Mech, you sound very familiar.

But I can tell you for a fact that I have not been friends with any Cybertronians before...”

This can't be, this can't be, this isn't....

It was a dream. The spawn of his TV series-addled mind. A hallucination. It wasn't real. It wasn't, was it?

But Jazz is here. And he disappeared from Earth. And now he's here.

And.

What the..

Swerve blurts out something like “sorry-sorry-see-you-later-now-I've got to go” and runs off.

“HEY DOC????”

The autobot, already familiar to him, flinches

“Primus...Swerve? Is something wrong?”

Swerve realizes that everything is about to either make sense or lose it completely.

“Tell me...is it possible to project a holoform...like...very far away?”

The Doctor tilts his head.

“Depends on power consumption. If you channel all the energy available in a frame, you can go very far. But that would send you into a...coma...if you...tried...Swerve, is there anything you'd like to tell me?”

“Doc do you know where Earth is?”

“Wha...no?”

Swerve chuckles nervously and bites his knuckles.

“I don't either. But I think I've been there...”

#tf mecha universe #Blurr #Swindle #Swerve #Jazz #Tailgate #Wheeljack #maccadam #Prowl #Jazzprowl happens for like two seconds #mecha writing #mecha bs writing #mecha kef writing

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physalian · 6 months ago

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3 More Character Types the World Needs More Of

Or at least, I do.

1. The denied redeemed villain

I need this. So badly right now. So, so, so many “redemption arcs” are half-assed and carry undertones of guilt by the heroes, gaslighting them into thinking the villain “wasn’t all that bad” right before they make some big heroic sacrifice, as if that’s ever enough to make up for the damage that was done.

But you know what I never see? A villain who’s done some awful shit, wakes up to reality, tries to apologize and… is denied. No, it’s not enough to be sorry. No, you’re not absolved of your crimes just because you cry really hard on your knees. Yes, you have to work for it. Yes, even if you work for it for the rest of your whole life, those you hurt are not obligated to forgive you.

Example that sadly did not happen in canon: Enji Todoroki

2. The liar revealed who loses

This fucker lies and cheats his way into his lover’s arms (and liars revealed are always men, because their love interests are always women put in the place of “but he tried really hard and you need to forgive him uwu” unless it’s gay). Similar to above, no, you do not get rewarded just for feeling sorry.

This character builds an entire relationship (and it’s specifically romance that I take such an issue with) on a lie. They are not who they say they are, specifically, they lie about their identity because they know their lover would not let this happen if they knew the truth.

It’s one thing to lie about something inconsequential, or to lie about something unrelated, but to lie deliberately to present yourself as the perfect suitor—and these are never little white lies, these are usually entirely false identities, or secrets so damning that risking the truth could mean arrest or even death—just. Why?

Yeah, okay, you never thought you’d get this far. Cool. You don’t have to tell her the truth, but you have to leave before you trick her into sleeping with you.

It’s just. So squicky. And the lesson always is that he deserves love, that he makes up for it with everything else, that he’s just got a winning personality. She always forgives him, even if they fight about it, it’s so, so predictable.

Examples that did not lose: Aladdin, Evan Hansen

3. The paragon who loses faith

I don’t know that we need a whole bunch of these characters, but so many paragons are painted as heroes with unshakable loyalty to their causes and I’d love to see a devolution of character where they just can’t keep smiling and pretending it’s alright. That there is a limit to how much shit they can take.

They don’t have to go full villain, but maybe they just stop caring, maybe they get cynical, maybe they just don’t show up for work the next day, maybe they’re not there when they’re needed the most.

There’s a few stories I can think of where the masses realize they’ve screwed up and show the hero that their faith has been rewarded (Nolan Bats being one of them) but I mean really a hero who just cannot take it anymore, throws in the towel, and walks away knowing it’s the hardest thing they’ve ever had to do.

Example: (kind of) Captain America

—

Sorry this list is kind of a bummer. It’s a bummer kind of week.

#writing #writeblr #writing a book #writing advice #writing resources #writing tools #writing tips #character development #character design #archetypes

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luveline · 7 months ago

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pls spencer and bombshell reader where she like sacrifices herself for him or does something outrageous for him. i love your weiting!! 💝

You don’t have any other choice, Spencer’s on the other roof being held in a chokehold by the UnSub —rational thinking goes out the window. He sees your face and, though he’s starting to look a little blue, gestures wildly for you to not do what you’re thinking.

You jump.

You take the landing hard —you ran hard, jumped harder, cringing as the grit of the rooftop tears through your shoulder. You roll into it. In one moment you’re standing, and then you’re knocking the assailant off of your boyfriend just before he falls unconscious.

You forget everything you’re supposed to remember, flipping the UnSub without care onto his front, yanking his arms back, and cuffing him tightly. He’s a serial child murderer, so it’s kinder than he deserves.

“Stay down,” you warn, cuffs so tight you can see the perp’s hand changing colour. You’ll have to fix that soon, but you have more important matters at hand. “Spencer?”

His answer is hoarse, “Yeah.”

You leave the UnSub where he’s laid down and rush to Spencer. You drop to your knees beside him, alarmed that he’s still curled up and gasping. “Hey, hey, what can I do?”

He grabs your arm and sucks in another breath.

“Spencer?”

“Why did you do that?” he asks.

“What?”

“What did you do to your arm? Does it hurt?”

Spencer can barely breathe and he’s asking you if you’re okay. You can see the spots in his eyes. Fuck, he scared you.

“I’m fine,” you say softly, holding him by the shoulders. “Take a deep breath, can you do that for me?”

Your shoulder stings like you’d landed on glass and there’s an ache in your bones from the impact, but the source of your racing pulse is the look on his face, as though he might still pass out. You cringe at the sound of approaching footsteps, but it’s Morgan and Hotch making their way across the gravel top to help you. You turn back to Spencer in relief.

He takes another huge breath. “Good job,” you say quietly, but saccharinely, rubbing his poor chest. “Do you want to sit up?”

“I can’t.”

“Okay. Alright. Just take a breath.”

“Maybe you should take your own advice,” he croaks, putting his hand over your heart.

“I’m fine.”

“Just breathe.” He says your name like a secret. “Just breathe.”

Of course. He’s lying on the ground panting for his life and he’s telling you to calm down.

Morgan has the UnSub up and moving. Hotch kneels beside you both, face lined with poorly concealed stress. “You okay?” he asks. “Spencer?”

“She jumped across the roof.”

“Spencer.” You’re half wounded, half humoured.

Hotch raises his eyebrows at you both. “Well, that’s ridiculous. Are you alright?”

“I’m fine. Spencer almost got choked out.”

Hotch looks as though he might give in and rub his face, but he pats your arm instead. “Okay. Reid, can you stand up?”

“Tell her she can’t– can’t jump across rooftops,” Spencer says, suddenly full of indignation as he pushes up onto his elbows. He looks like he’s been hung upside down and shook.

“Well, clearly I can.”

“L/N shouldn’t be jumping across rooftops for any reason, but you’re both…” Hotch smiles wryly. “I almost said unharmed.”

Spencer flops down onto his back. When he speaks, he sounds in a strange place, close to tears and laughing alike, “You have to look at her arm.”

“I think you both need to see a medic, but first, why don’t we all calm down. Let’s regain our senses, and prevent any further unnecessary pain.”

Spencer gives your leg an uncharacteristic whack. He’s so messed up from the chokehold that it’s more like a stroke, but you feel the tap for what it is. He’s saying Don’t do that to me again.

“He really was gonna kill you,” you say, sorry.

“I had it.”

“Respectfully, baby, you did not.”

#spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid oneshot #spencer reid scenario #spencer reid drabble #spencer reid fic #spencer reid fanfiction

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yamujiburo · 8 months ago

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Here's an arc I thought about doing but won't do because, it'd be a bit too sad and also it's too similar to the Turing Point Arc I already did and also it would be long. But I'll write it here for you angst enjoyers. This ended up being longer than I thought.

Despite getting the "okay" from Ash to date Jessie, Delia still worries that she's not doing the right thing or being a bad mom. Up until now she'd convinced herself that she had the right to be selfish for once after knowing only sacrifice and putting herself last.

Jessie and Ash, while not as antagonistic towards each other, still go at it. A Pikachu zap here, an angry "twerp" being uttered there. The guilt settles in for Delia and figures that it's best to just cut things off before things potentially get worse or before she gets too attached to Jessie. Her son comes first after all. That's what she signed up for when becoming a parent.

She sits Jessie down, eyes watery (it's the first time Jessie's ever seen Delia come close to crying). Delia says she thinks they should end things. Jessie is stunned but accepts it quickly. She sucks it up in the moment, puts a resigned smile on her face and tells Delia she'll leave immediately and not to worry about her. Delia's also broken up about it but promised herself she'd never cry over a goodbye and she wasn't gonna start now.

Jessie goes to James and Meowth's place greeted similarly to this, lightly teasing her about blowing it with Delia, and she breaks down sobbing. Oops it's real this time. James and Meowth do everything in their power to make her feel better. They let her know that things like this happen and they're ready to go wherever she wants to go (knowing that it'd likely be to painful for her to stay in Pallet). As much as she wants to leave, she doesn't want James and Meowth to lose the good thing they have going. She's not in the right headspace to make any decisions so she'll get to it later.

Ash returns home after doing a little training at Oak's lab. He notices Jessie's not around and asks his mom where she is. Delia is about to tell him but can't quite bring herself to say the truth out loud yet. She simply says "I don't know". Ash looks disappointed. "Aw man, I wanted to see if she wanted to battle. She makes a good battle buddy for all of my newer, baby Pokémon." Delia perks up that this. As quickly as he came, he leaves again to go train his Pokémon.

Later, Delia approaches Ash, asking him if he really meant that what he said about Jessie being a good battle partner. He gives her an enthusiastic "yeah!" and tells her that it's been nice having another battle ready trainer around since there's not many in Pallet. Delia starts to pry a little more. "I thought you and Jessie didn't get along?" Ash is confused, and tells Delia they get along great! "Jessie doesn't steal anymore! And she's getting better at battling which is cool." Delia brings up that she's head them argue before. "Oh... well I guess that's just how we are. I'd be weirded out if she was suddenly too nice to me all the time. Jessie's actually a lot like Misty. But taller!" This gives Delia a lot to think about but what's done is done and it's no use pressing on. It's easier this way.

The next morning Delia's getting ready for work. She must not have noticed that she was acting weird but Ash picks up on it. "What's wrong mom?" Delia's shocked he noticed (he's not usually this perceptive). She tells him it's nothing and that she just slept bad. "Hm. But Jessie says that when you're upset you get really quiet and intense." Delia notices that she was pretty intensely mixing the pancake batter. "Jessie told you that?" Ash nods. "Hey speaking of, where is Jessie? Haven't seen her since yesterday." Delia stops mixing and tells Ash that she and Jessie aren't together anymore. Ash is confused and upset at the idea of Jessie doing something that would hurt his mom enough for them to break up. Delia lets him know that Jessie didn't do anything like that and that them breaking up was just for the best. But Ash questions this, pointing out that he's never seen Delia as happy as she was when Jessie was there and also how Delia looks really sad now. Delia can't argue with that but then tells him that it's complicated. Ash, to Delia's surprise, looks a bit disappointed. He's bummed he wasn't able to say goodbye first and asks if she thinks Jessie would still be willing to come by and train with him sometimes. Delia asks him once more if he was really okay with her and Jessie dating. "Yeah I thought I said that already? Jessie's pretty cool when she's not being evil. And she really likes Pokémon which is a plus!" Such simple criteria. Delia's now worried that she might've made a mistake. She finishes making breakfast and heads to work.

At the restaurant she's met by James. She can feel an awkwardness hanging in the air. She knows that James knows. Before she can say anything James tells Delia thank you for employing him and helping him, Meowth and Jessie get back on their feet but that he's going to quit working at the restaurant and that they'll likely be leaving Pallet soon. Delia's heart sinks. There's now a ticking clock and she has to decide what she wants to do SOON. She asks James where Jessie is. James hesitantly tells her that she's at his and Meowth's place. Delia pleads with James to work the restaurant for one more day at least and to cover this shift. She has to go talk to Jessie. He agrees, hoping that this is a good thing.

Delia runs to James and Meowth's place. She knocks on the door upon arrival and waits. It takes a moment but she hears the door unlock. Jessie opens the door, disheveled, tears and snot all over her face, draped in a blanket. Jessie notices it's Delia and, frightened, slams the door. Delia's stunned for a moment and goes to knock on the door again but before she can the door opens. This time Jessie's tears are gone, her hair's fixed and she ditched the blanket. "Oh hey, Delia! What brings you here?" Delia can't help but be charmed. But this is serious. She shakes it off and asks if they could talk. Jessie invites her in. They get to the couch and Jessie starts frantically cleaning up all the crumpled tissues and dirty dishes off the ground. "Heh I caught a cold yesterday. A one day cold. I'm fine now." Delia doesn't call out the obvious lie and gets straight to the point.

She tells Jessie that she's worried she made a mistake. She made a panicked decision that she was hoping would protect Ash and her future self. But now realizes that she was afraid of the idea that she'd made a selfish decision by dating her. It was a selfish decision but that didn't mean it was a bad one. She was the happiest she'd been, Jessie and Ash were learning to get along and were getting along much better than she'd though. She acknowledges that Jessie has been there for Ash in a way that she can't quite be and is also grateful to her for managing to keep Ash home a little longer. She asks if Jessie would be willing to take her back (despite the distress she caused). Jessie starts sobbing with happy tears. She tearfully says she'll try even harder to get along with Ash and be a better person. Delia reassures her that she's doing just fine.

They kiss passionately but then realize it's weird that they're making out in James in Meowth's place and say they'll continue later. Delia tells Jessie to head back home and that Ash is looking forward to battling with her (and she also needs to let James and Meowth not to quit their jobs).

The end~

#long post

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webbedmirror · 2 months ago

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High King Phantom looked at his surroundings with narrowed eyes. He rarely responded to summonings, however, this one came with offerings—sacrifices—. It perked his interest, and not necessarily in a good way. The summoning circle was sloppy, the summoners were dressed in cheap matching cloaks, they seemingly were in a random abandoned apartment, and most importantly, he was surrounded by bodies.

Seven bodies surrounded the king, seven bodies sacrificed to Danny.

"Your majesty," a person—seemingly the leader— greeted with a bowed head, "It is an honor to be in your glorious presence." Glowing green eyes stared them down, but they did not receive a response. Ever arrogant, the mortal continued talking, "We have used three sacrifices to summon you, and we hope to use the other four to strike a deal with me."

Phantom could not help but sneer. "You want to use the other four for a deal? You lot already seemed to be idiotic and somehow manage to anger me further." The summoners flinched, some preparing to flee. The king would not allow that to happen, a light tap of his foot and the floor was covered in frost, freezing the summoners in place.

"These people are dead, they are under my domain, they are my subjects. You want to give me something that is already mine?" Phantom yelled. "Even if you offered them to me when they were alive, what use would I have for them? I have trillions if not quadrillions of undead under my rule. Do you understand what that means? That is over a thousand times more people living on your planet. What do four or fuck— seven lives mean to me? Your sacrifices mean nothing to me, all you've done is needlessly kill your own kind!"

His words left the summoners speechless; it seemed they underestimated the king's power. They couldn't help but cower, a chilling, heart-pounding fear now embedded in them.

"Where is the tome you used?" Phantom was met with silence. "Do not make me repeat myself!"

"It- it's over there, your- your majesty," someone spoke up, shakily pointing a finger to a bag in the back of the room.

Phantom telekinetically brought the bag towards him, carelessly throwing things out the bag before finding the tome. He flipped through the book, quickly scanning it before freezing it solid. He raised the book high and then threw it onto the floor. Both the ice and book shattered like glass, becoming such small particles that one couldn't even hope to recover and put back together the tome.

"Now then, what should I do with you all?"

"I can take care of the rest," a new voice spoke. Phantom looked at the knight—or perhaps, hero, but the lingering of Lady Gotham on the man made Phantom prioritize the fact that he was a knight— dressed in black and blue.

"This is my issue, knight. I have the right to deal with in any way I'd like."

The knight walked closer to him, steps confident despite the icy floor. "You may be right, but you are on human land, you aren't judge, jury, or executioner."

[]

Nightwing was late-late again, too slow, too sloppy, too careless, and people died, again and it was his fault. Bludhaven was his territory, his city, and he couldn't even properly defend it.

The vigilante forced himself to not look at the dead bodies, faces crumbled in pain, tear tracks still on their faces, and instead looked the king of the dead in the eye.

"What do the rules of humans mean to me, when I am more powerful than a human could even wish to be?" A seemingly light tap of the foot resulted in the tile beneath him to crumble and the room filled with the screams of the summoners.

He'd made a blunder; sleep deprivation was not helping him speak to high-ranking alien entities. "That doesn't make us any less significant, nor does that mean you need to invalidate our culture and government. I hope if you are a just ruler, that you would respect our planet and the way it governs."

The king frowned, glowing green eyes stared at him intensely. "Get them out of my sight and we'll see how I feel."

Nightwing nodded, putting the criminals in handcuffs under the king's scrutiny. Once the king had evaporated the frost, he tied them up and put them in another room whilst talking to a police operative. While the vigilante took care of the criminals, the ghost took care of the sacrifices. A wave of magic surrounded the bodies, one by one, and their faces changed into a peaceful look. Seven orbs surrounded the king, and he looked at them with a soft sadness that surprised Nightwing.

The king's eyes focused back on Nightwing. "You will make sure those people are prosecuted properly?"

Nightwing nodded, "Of course."

"Then it's time for me to leave. Thank you for your help."

"Wait!" the hero bowed his head. "I know this is probably not the best time, but you're the king of the dead right?"

[]

The knight looked back at him, full of desperation. "My baby brother died not long ago, I just need to know. . ."

Phantom softened, "If he's a knight like you, he should be fine in my realm."

"He was." the knight clenched his fists, "I just. . . I need to know for sure that he's okay, that he's going to stay okay, and that I'm sorry."

"I can keep an eye on him, ensure his safety, and pass along information so long as you are alive in exchange of you passing along the final messages of these seven and ensuring that they receive a funeral of their liking." Unfortunately, as much as he sympathized with the knight, so long as he was within the summoning circle he could not do things for free. Whilst he could break out of it, it would be a waste of energy and he was sure the knight would agree to the terms.

"Thank you."

"We have a deal, Sir . . ?"

"Nightwing. It's a deal, King. . ."

"Phantom. We have a deal."

For the first time in a while, Nightwing smiled-soft and watery, nonetheless, a smile.

"Then, goodbye, Nightwing. And do take care of yourself, you look like shit and I don't want you to become my subject before you complete your end of the deal."

[End.]

Wahoo! It's been a while since I've written something original-ish like this so do forgive any inconsistencies or mistakes. This is a oneshot and I most likely won't add onto it so I'm just going to spill some of the background/ideas/would-be-plans for this :]

This is set while Jason is dead but before Tim meets with Dick

Speaking of Tim, I feel like Dick would be nicer and not so guilty for pushing him to become Robin

Shortly after he comes back to the realms, Danny goes to find Jason and passes on Dick's sorry as well as receives the message Jason wants to give to Dick

If this were a multichapter fic it would be slow burn friends to lovers Death Defying

I'd imagine that Danny & Jason get a brotherly bond

Clockwork essentially tosses Danny at Jason's grave when it's time for Jason to resurrect

Jason won't (initially) have his memories of being dead, but like post resurrection he doesn't have a lot of memories in the first place sooo

Whilst Jason is dead, he is located in Infinite Realm!Gotham under the care of Lady Gotham so Danny doesn't have to monitor him 24/7 and only visits him every 2 weeks or to pass along messages

Danny and Dick bond in a weird fucked up way of Dick "It took me a month to learn about Jason's death because I was off-planet and Bruce didn't tell me anything" and Danny "It took months for my sister to learn I was dead and years for my parents to learn about it and we lived under the same roof so you're off to a better start."

Oh, Nightwing isn't thinking straight because of Jason's death and his lack of coping mechanisms. I don't think I did a great job of showing that but that's why he's making a deal without hesitation

#dpxdc #dcxdp #oneshot #death defying #dc x dp crossover

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