#orphan snippets

[familyofshadows]

First Chapter Snippet

Howdy! This is a snippet from the first chapter of my Batman rewrite fic, Batman: Family of Shadows. It's short, but I hope you enjoy it. Feedback is welcome!

___

The putrid ring of a handgun firing plays in the back of Bruce’s mind, a bad case of tinnitus that never leaves him. The click of the trigger, the hiss of gunpowder igniting and the soft whistle of the bullets as it pierced through the air. The horrid tear of flesh. His father’s body as it fell to the ground. His mother’s cries.

The sound of ivory pearls kissing blood-soaked concrete. 

It all plays in his head, a traumatic loop of sorrow. Bruce wishes he could forget that day, have a magician wave their hand and erase it all, but then it’d be like losing his parents all over again. Bruce doesn’t think he could live through that twice; so it keeps the pain in his heart, a reminder to himself, to never let that happen to anyone else.

___

Keep an eye out for my posts if you wish to see more! I plan to post snippets and updates as it comes out. This is going to be a long process, but hopefully an enjoyable one :)

[jaspermeiao3]

A girl was used to quiet. Quiet rooms, quiet hands, and quiet whispers. Silence was survival, something she learned young—how to tiptoe, how to sneak, how to disappear. But she hadn’t always been quiet. Once, she’d screamed and cried, her voice loud with the desperate hope someone would care. She learned quickly that noise brought pain, and silence was safer.

She wasn’t taught words, not at first. Words, she had learned, were dangerous. Words lied, but bodies didn’t. So instead, she learned to read a shift in weight, a flick of the wrist, the twitch of a mouth hiding a lie. Her education wasn’t one of comfort or curiosity—it was precision and violence, survival etched into muscle memory. A girl lived without true understanding until the day she met The Batman, and her world cracked open.

Suddenly, there was sound—too much sound. Laughter, arguments, the wild thrum of a piano from upstairs. Little and big brothers bickering, teasing, singing. It was overwhelming and impossible and free.

It was hers.

A girl didn’t have the words to explain what she felt when Bruce welcomed her into the manor, but she didn’t need them. He spoke to her not with his mouth but with his hands, slow and deliberate, shaping a language just for her. Words made from careful motions, as patient as they were kind.

And with those words came something even greater: a name. Her name. Cassandra Cain.

[baambastic]

“Speak my name!” The Wizard cried. “Speak my name and take your rightful place as Champion!”

The girl looked, and saw expectation. She said nothing, awaiting the anger that followed inaction.

“Speak, girl!” The Wizard cried again.

The girl still stood there, as her lips stood still. She saw no anger in the man, only hope.

The girl saw the same growing in herself, fledgling and unfamiliar.

“Speak my name, girl!” The Wizard shouted still.

Understanding dawned.

The girl’s lips parted.

Once more, the Wizard cried out. “Speak the Word!”

And for the first time in her young life, Cassandra spoke.

“SHAZAM!”

[gingermintpepper]

🌧️☔️

Oh man okay, sure!

🌧 - "Something angsty from your wip"

Featuring a snippet from one of my very many "Hyacinth's awakening" attempts:

His name is Hyacinthus Amyclus of Amyclae and once, he was a prince. He had been an auspicious prince, chosen by the gods themselves. Man of the People, they’d called him, the Sun Shepherd. He remembers because the sister in his mind wears braided laurels on her arm. Women weren’t to wear laurels. Not like the ones he’d had. He remembers the him who’d laughed at such a declaration, the shock in the eyes of the man who’d dared to question the habits of his prince and princess. If it were against divine law for a woman to wear her brother’s laurels then let the lord of the laurel come down from the heavens and tear them from her himself.  Yes, he’d laughed then. Had stood his ground, had protected his sister’s limited freedoms.  Maybe that’s why he’s here now. Alone. In the dark. With nothing but fading memories for company. He’d tested the gods one too many times and now he was condemned to hell.  “It’s not like you to be so self-pitying, Hyacinthus.” The memory of warm hands cling to him. Bright fingers which cup the edge of his jaw, a softer smile than that of his brother, a closer touch than that of his sister’s. It slips from his jaw down to his neck. Pinches the side of his throat. Right, of course. How could he regret questioning the gods when they were so damn annoying? A laugh like honey seeps into his ear, the scent of laurel and reed. “That’s better.”  This too is punishment. For which crime, Hyacinth can’t quite remember, but he was certain this was divine providence. Maybe his pride, for daring to possess a god. Maybe his hubris for believing he would be an exception to the fates.  “Now, that’s not entirely fair, my dear.” And him, with his aureate hair like the rays of the sun and his darkly shining eyes as rich and gold as the honeycomb. He, who lingers above Hyacinthus’ prone body even now, picking at his corpse and leaving marks on his death-pale skin, he was the cruellest punishment of them all. A teasing laugh like wind over the rolling hills, cold kisses that do not fill the aching emptiness carved and bleeding in Hyacinthus’ chest. He is the only thing that is more ghost than memory. His madness given golden form and domain over him, the only man he had ever bared his throat to over and over and over again.  “Is this not an eternity as I promised? Here, with me?”  Hyacinthus feels his cold hands on his throat, mere whispers of the heat his body recalls in that foggy once-upon-a-time of his memories. Fine hairs flower petal soft spill onto his forehead, must be making a blood stain of gold on the ground around him. There is no air for him to breathe, no muscle for him to tense and yet he is flush with bitterness anew. “I do not know where I am. Or how much time has passed. Or when next I will see my family.”  The impression of his palm is smaller than the one in Hyacinthus’ memory. Maybe, like his sister, this phantom too will break down and fade away. Maybe that is why he can no longer feel the overwhelmingness of his heat. “Those things lay deep in the domain of the dead. I cannot grant them to you.”  How many times have they had this exchange? How many more times would they say these things to each other?  “Then let me die. Pay my fee and let me die.”  Over and over again.

And ☔ - "Talk about/give a synopsis for a fic you'll probably never write"

Admittedly, there are a lot of those just because I have so many brainworms all the time but one of the concepts I've recently accepted will just remain a warm memory to go back to when I'm feeling down is a 5+1 fic with Ares and Artemis discovering, raising and releasing the Stymphalian Birds! I'm really interested in Ares and Artemis' entanglements and the many things attributed to them both and the Stymphalian Birds have always been cool (to me) due to their nature + their habitat as swamp dwellers! The idea of Ares having found (or created!!) these little demon chickies and panicking because they ate something they weren't supposed to so he panics and brings them down to Artemis who looks at him and his jar of chirping baby birds then metaphorically slams the door in his face gives me immense joy. Ares, of course, bugs her until she agrees to help him keep them fed which leads to Artemis teaching how to hunt, Ares teaching her a thing or two about Olympian politics and a very big brood of birds between them both! Very cute, but it'll probably remain in the drafts.

[lawful-evil-novelist]

Maybe giving Jason!Robin and Orphan!Cass a week of overlap was a bad idea.

[jedijenkins]

Do you still write any fanfic for The Librarians? I used to be in the fandom years ago as a lurker, then when it was cancelled, I fell out. But I'm introducing my older sister to the show and I've gone through the AO3 stories. I miss them so much.

I'm actually writing again for The Librarians for the first time since the show got cancelled, now that it's coming back i'm fully back in my hyperfixation and creative mode. here's a sneak peek of what i'm working on right now:

I post more on twitter these days than tumblr, although im trying to be on here more regularly. follow me @ camelotslibrary on twitter to see me talking about the librarians, the librarians the next chapter, my writing and my edits

[fonulyn]

“Leon, you home?” Piers called, but there was no answer, and he quickly toed off his shoes before heading further into the house. At the doorway to the living room he stopped, grinning to himself as he took in the sight. Leon was sprawled over the couch, fast asleep, and pinned underneath fifty pounds of fluff.

Said fluff made no move to get up, either, but she was wagging her tail happily at Piers anyway, clearly signaling that she was happy that he was back even though she was way too comfortable to get up right now. And well, who was Piers to argue with that, really. He wouldn’t have gotten up for just anyone either if he’d been pillowed so nicely against Leon. “Hey girl,” he said lowly, approaching the couch so he could scratch her behind her ears, making her wag her tail even more excitedly.

Leon made a sleepy sound, shifting a little, and Lucky took that as a sign to wake him up properly. She launched herself forward, licking over his face until he was squirming to get away, sleepily swatting at the dog in weak attempts to make her stop. Not that he managed to do anything else but basically pet her with the flailing. “No, too much spit, stop it!” he laughed.

Happy to have done her work, Lucky jumped up and off the couch, vanishing into the bedroom. She was probably going to use the chance to hog the bed for herself, it had rapidly become her favorite place to sleep.

Grinning, Piers took a seat on the edge of the couch, leaning in to give Leon a chaste peck. “Have you done anything else but sleep all day?” he asked teasingly. Although truth to be told, that wouldn’t have been such a bad option anyway. Leon had spent so many years stressed out and always on edge, he deserved lazy days dozing off together with their dog if anyone did.

“I was a good husband and cooked.” Leon grinned. “And I talked with your mom for like an hour. She says you don’t call her enough.” He still looked sleepy, like he wasn’t actually properly awake and could fall back asleep if he just closed his eyes for five seconds.

With a small shrug, Piers chuckled. “Tell her it’s her own fault for always calling you instead of me these days.” He leaned backwards, let out a happy sigh as Leon reached out and patted his thigh lightly. “Wanna go out for a walk before dinner? It might wake you up?”

“Sounds like a plan,” Leon agreed easily. “You go tell the dog we’re going. It’s your turn to accept all the enthusiastic kisses of gratitude.”

[mishy-mashy]

Just the fully-text version of this post

-

Quotation marks on names because those names are aliases. Different Resistance fics (OCs) focus on,

"Ray" - The direness of what Japan is like back then. Not meant to make you feel good or have fun when you read it

Feat. Ability drawbacks do exist, being forced to earn survival, and it's impossible to survive in Japan alone.

Though light-hearted, each time he spoke swerved right back to getting answers from Shinomori.

Anything Ray said that wasn't a question gave little room to continue that conversation, leaving his inquiries as the only thing to keep away the discomfort of awkward talk.

Naturally, that would mean answering his questions without thinking.

"Did you hear from another person wearing a flak jacket?"

It was casual enough to miss as simply friendly wonder. But from his flak jacket alone, Shinomori knew; he was a member of the Resistance.

The original owner of X-Ray Vision was a Resistance member who often did recon; a logical, careful person.

Said person was putting him under investigation so naturally that Shinomori would've missed it if he didn't know better.

His Danger Sense wasn't even going off.

Himura - The discrimination of Meta Humans (treated as sub-normal) and being left behind over and over

Feat. Metas are called monsters, Bruce intervenes in the transportation for a Meta Human trading ring, and abandonment issues

What were those big words? Why did he talk so strangely?

These were all things the young Himura couldn't understand. For the words she couldn’t grasp, all that flooded her was sick relief. Her chest became quiet, in all the wrong ways.

Even her justification that they were monsters had been rejected. Then, what was the reason for everything to be this way?

"Why, is everyone leaving?"

Say something. You're an adult.

If I can't be right, and you're all I have left, then you, you you youyouyou–!

A single look at his face was enough answer for her.

—There's no reason at all.

That dreadful realization lulled out everything. Because Shinomori didn't know what to say.

Struggling with the words, Shinomori looked down, away from her. Then, he looked up at her. As if he might find the answer in her face.

Ha..

She wanted to laugh.

All he had done was reveal to this young child that even adults could not be trusted.

".. Sometimes, they have something more important than their lives that they have to do."

Hahaha…

It didn't matter if Bruce or Leader trusted this man. Because everything about him was wrong.

"Boss" - A safe space and a kind hand can be everything to someone

Feat. Kudo breaks down after the sewer incident, an "If you have any respect for me" moment, and lots of boba.

He laughed wetly.

"Sorry, everyone. Thank you, too—it's just the onions."

Someone picked up a peeled onion. "What the fuck did you do to our Bossman?"

Kudo stared numbly. One, he's fascinated and quite frankly, amazed at the respect and care the Boss received from everyone.

Two… are his enemies really this stupid?

(Context: Bossman was crying while chopping onions. Everyone is concerned and wants to know who made him cry)

Shiki - The whole package of the aboves, and what the Resistance was like, both on-duty and in moments of calm. Lots of ugly humanity whenever pressure starts to come down.

Feat. The first Three (+ OC) get to meme, Yoichi is the prettiest bastard in the world, Kudo is a snarky bitch obsessed with Disney, and Bruce is the parent of the Resistance. Reality will hit like a truck at times and the humor will be nowhere in sight then.

"Sorry. I'm sorry."

Was her voice really so weak then?

As if that were all she knew how to say, she just apologized. Even this was something Shiki remembered herself.

All she wanted to do was apologize. It was all that filled her head—that singular thought. Regret that she put him in this stressful position, and worry for how he was doing.

"I'm really, sorry."

How could she sound so near tears already?

"Batman" - The irony of having a cliche, aesthetic Meta Ability, and no one (including the wielder) even realizing it exists for over half the story.

Feat. Dressing like a cool, hip vampire, Yoichi calling OC "Batman" unironically (much to Bruce's delight), and iron deficiencies.

"Batman?" he repeated incredulously. How was he just like an orphan who stood atop buildings in a bat costume, with the creepy voice of a rusty car?

Bruce snickered, while Yoichi nodded enthusiastically. This was the first time they'd seen the sickly man so animated. "Yes! Like Captain Hero's friend, who wears only a cape and briefs!"

For some reason Yoichi couldn't understand, Bruce just fell in laughter, clutching his gut.

An odd sight it was, to see his face turn pink. They didn't think he had enough warm blood to do that anymore.

"Yoichi."

"Yes, Batman?"

Bruce cackled louder.

"Please never call me Batman again—please, never, ever, say any of this again."

[chaotic-orphan]

A quick prompt

“Please…” Hero wheezed, clawing their fingernails desperately into the dirt, trying to pull themselves forward, closer to Villain who was so heart wrenchingly close if Hero could just reach them. “Please d-don’t…”

Villain tilted their head at the exhausted Hero with more pity than sympathy, and a little bit of awe at how even when beaten, even when eating dirt, Hero still didn’t know when to quit. Maybe they were born without a survival instinct.

“I told you before Hero,” Villain said.

Hero’s grip in the dirt turned their knuckles white and they cried out a strangled scream of frustration and helplessness as they pulled their limp body towards Villain.

“You can’t save everyone, everywhere, at all times and expect to get away with it.”

“Yes…” Hero panted, dragging themselves an inch closer. “I can. As long as I draw breath, I can save the world.”

“Sweetheart,” Villain cooed, clicking their tongue against the roof of their mouth. “You can’t even save yourself.”

Hero heard, more than saw, Villain push the button on their remote and froze. It was as if the Earth took a sharp inhale of breath — the world turned slower, nature grew quiet, all Hero could hear was the ringing in their ears and the thundering pounding of their heart in their throat — the ground rumbled beneath Hero and they had just enough strength to push their head up to watch as everything they knew turned to ash.

The fire burned hot, as if Hero was in it instead of beside it, looking down at it, and no matter how much they wanted to Hero couldn’t tear their eyes away from the flames or the screams or the smoke or the sirens or the death and destruction they could have prevented if they had just been stronger.

Hero flinched as a hand settled on the nape of their neck, rubbing soothing circles over the skin. “It was a valiant effort Hero, I want you to know that. There is nothing you could have done. Although you did come the closest to beating me. I had to even the playing field a bit, what with your borderline obsessive tenacity.”

Villain’s words sent a shiver up Hero’s spine. “Don’t worry, this is only the beginning. I told you we would change the world, didn’t I?”

They did. That was the first thing Villain ever told Hero. At the time it sounded so attractive, so endearing. It was so easy for Villain to convince Hero to follow Villain after that because they wanted the same things.

Hero just didn’t imagine that in order for the world to change, so many needed to die.

“Come on now, let me get you back to bed. We can start rebuilding tomorrow. That’s when the real work begins.”

[likesdoodling]

First only text post I have ever done!

This is kind of a disclaimer? Maybe? I guess?

So I started doing art stuff on here primarily to post my dsmp comic 'The Adventures of Steve and Orphan' which my predictive text still remembers perfectly btw-

I finished said comic a while ago, (like... I dunno.. Last year around March or something?) and I planned on putting it all together when I was finished to make a more cohesive read, since I definitely wrote it to be read in order.

That was before.. Ahem. Stuff happened. Like. The recent wilbur stuff, not the June 2022 stuff. Definitely wasn't going to do it straight after that,

Anyway. The main characters are Steve and Orphan because of that video Technoblade did with Ranboo where he said Steve was the real main character/should have his own series, plus him telling dream in prison that Steve was coming to rescue him. I thought this was hilarious, so that's when I started my comic thing.

(I'm kind of a Technoblade fan. Can you tell? Genuinely the only person on dsmp that I watched live, plus all his dsmp vods and YouTube videos, and no I do not have a problem, my obsession has just shifted to different fandoms)

It is of course, ✨Fiction✨ so I'm probably going to post it anyway, this is mainly just to figure out if any of my tumblr followers actually care about the dream smp, since it was mainly my Instagram folks who followed me for that stuff, since ascendance of a bookworm and bsd fans are a lot more active on tumblr.

Anyway. My main reasoning is that I want to still post Technoblade related stuff, fanart etc. Because he was the inspiration to finish one of the biggest projects I ever undertook, drawing wise, and it's the best way I can think of to try embody the 'Technoblade Never Dies' spirit. Ya know?

So expect to see the collected Adventures of Steve and Orphan soon!

:D

It's all from Steve's perspective btw

And there is a bit of a jump in quality when I took a break mid 2022 for obvious reasons. It is so weird to think that it's been nearly two years... Who knows. Maybe I'll post it as an anniversary thing or something. Eh. I probably won't bother waiting that long. I want to do a full on art piece for the anniversary if possible anyway.

Honestly, I haven't gotten more than 20 likes on a single picture on Instagram since I finished said Steve and Orphan comic, so you guys clearly have superior taste in anime. But then again, Steve had some pretty good unintentionally funny commentating skills so who knows. He thinks he's inspiring. Like Master. Orphan might laugh, but Steve is clearly a wonderful teacher.

If you don't want anything to do with the dsmp, then you probably haven't read this far honestly. I kind of doubt any of you guys are interested, but yknow. Just in case.

Doin sarcastically commentated comics was/is kind of my thing. And the Adventures of Steve and Orphan is a prime example of that.

That's it for now, cya!

[randomisedmongoose]

Those few paragraphs of text you like so much that you cut and paste them between wips, trying and failing to find the proper place for them but unable to abandon them. Yeah those paragraphs.

[bruxbea]

@ndostairlyrium tagged me once upon a time but I keep deleting the result because it feels more like Dragon Age than not...which is probably fine tbh: Snippets from Lark under the cut:

“Wouldn’t it be funny if we managed to scale all this just to find there’s actually a path up the opposite direction…? That can only happen to us so many times right?” "And if you had just loaned me your doublet, captain portal wizard wouldn't have slapped my boob by way of introduction. MANY things about today could have gone differently yet here we are~"

“I assume like most cases this can be solved with a combination of enthusiastic wiggling and just a dash of creative vaulting~“

“Not sure if it means anything but I’ve actually been sleeping *better* since being kidnapped by a space mollusk and being held at knifepoint by said Vampire so-“

“Wyll even with horns you’re still the most air-quotes “in the box” one of this group, just breathe and be glad you’re not climbing trees as a lemur. Sorry “Lemure”….wait, I think I’ve misunderstood something-”

“Sure, I may be a Druid but this entire lot can bite me running…” “If experience has taught me anything in life, it’s how to recognize when and where one should be polite. Auntie Ethel positively screams “behave in this house or I will kill you” so let’s just go with it for now. I’m also almost positive she’s a bog witch at minimum so take that with grain of salt…or a brick if you’re brave-”

“...I woke up one morning to discover what I thought to be a snake nailed unceremoniously to the door of the room across from me… The fear that crept up my spine was quickly overtaken by pain as I realized it was in fact the remnants of a tiefling’s tail- my tail…cruelly and brutally severed near the base to be affixed to the door by a sharp bit of metal jammed through its spade…any love I held for the Gate died that day, as well as my ability to sleep fitfully if alone…

“ He may be a little…catty…but I know all too well what it’s like to go multiple days at a time without eating. No one should have to suffer through that, regardless of origin. If it helps him stave off starvation then I see no problem. Even arseholes need to eat. Wait-“

“Harhar indeed, there’s what, seven of you lot all together but NOT ONE of you thought to mention ‘Lark darling, dearest wellness dealer and usually not combative songstress who keeps us all alive and fit, you’re currently only equipped with a stick of cured meats and doing Jack all in terms of damage, maybe back off a bit-“ I mean really! “Shadow Cursed Lands or no, it’s been a few days since we supped together and I don’t want Stari to have to bite through grime or whatever other “Thisobaldian horrors” might have accrued on my person since the last time I bathed-“ “I find it the very definition of rude that we take one afternoon to ourselves to become reaccustomed to city life, maybe enjoy the circus…see the ocean…only to wind up tits deep in raptors and disembodied clown bits…and they weren’t even the sexy kind…”

“Please let them have hot water, clean towels…and cake…I don’t know if I’ve ever had a cake that wasn’t second hand come to think of it…”

“Can we just…take a moment to appreciate how absolutely abysmal the chances of that working in our favor actually were…? Are we to say a prayer, possibly leave a coin…? Maybe we offer them Gale’s underthings, I’m not entirely sure what we should do in this instance truth be told-”

“To be perfectly honest? Not to give everything away Orin, but holding an innocent child at knife point is comparatively tame compared to some of the shet I’ve seen Lae’zel pull when threatened-”

“This outfit cost more coin than I possessed in the last two years combined…wearing it feels like I’m breaking the law somehow-”

[patchworkorphan]

Heroic Betrayal: part four

Read part one here

Continued from this

TW: Blood

*~*~*~*~*

The next thing Hero remembered they were in a cell on a bed, the cuffs still firmly around their wrists. They didn’t remember how they got there, or where they were, something Hero could no doubt credit to Flynn. Though Hero felt the salt trail of tears hardened around the corner of their eyes and down their cheeks.

So much for not using their power on me.

They were thankful Flynn had left them with their scabbard at least, straps still wrapped tight around their chest, scabbard reassuring on their back. They could grab their daggers anytime.

As soon as Flynn took these stupid handcuffs off, Hero thought mulishly, staring down at their trapped hands balanced in between their bent knees.

There was a door opening somewhere nearby and Hero raised their head to look at the cell bars, waiting for whoever it was to come gloat. Somewhere, in the dark side of their mind, a sad, quiet voice wanted nothing more than to see Flynn’s stupid face on the other side of the bars.

Instead, it was Villain who appeared. Hero struggled to keep their face neutral. They didn’t want to show Villain what impact they left on them. Villain and their stupid fucking shadows. Hero fixed Villain with a bored stare, resting their head back against the cold wall.

“Miss me?” Hero asked, wanting to celebrate that their voice didn’t betray them. Unlike Flynn.

Villain just stared, cocking a brow at Hero. Then the shadows slipped from their palms and under their clothes, slowly, dreadfully slowly, dripping, slithering along the ground and through the bars of the cell. Hero’s heart hammered against their chest, but they forced themselves not to move. Not to react. That’s what Villain wanted, for them to scream and cry.

Fine. Maybe they would, but Villain would damn fucking sure have to work for it.

“If you want to give me a hug, Villain you can come in here and do it yourself.”

“Cute,” said Villain, cocking their head to the side, a smile slipping onto their face, “but I think I’ll leave that for Flynn.”

Hero’s heart panged at that, and they hated themselves for it. They shouldn’t be sad. They should be angry. Pissed off, but their stupid little heart ached at the mention of Flynn, and they couldn’t wrestle the feeling away.

“What was it like?” Villain asked, leaning their hands through the bars and clasping them together. Their eyes shining with malice, “realising your best friend and greatest ally was all lies. Did it hurt? I bet it hurt.”

“Ehh. You win some, you lose some,” Hero shrugged, subtly retracting their feet to their chest to evade the shadowy claws that were crawling up the legs of the bedframe.

“Ah. You seem more confident than before. Have you had time to process it all? Compartmentalise? Is that what they taught you during Hero training? Maybe I’ll ask Flynn…”

Hero smiled, the result humourless and wan. “You do that.”

The cold was the first sign that the shadows were on them. A hand wrapped around Hero’s ankle, slowly pulling their leg down. “What about you?” Hero asked, wanting to take their focus off the shadows pulling at them.

Villain’s eyebrows raised in question. “What about me?”

“You must have missed him,” Hero continued, nonchalant. “I mean when Flynn was pretending to be my friend. The late nights, the early mornings. The stakeouts… we got close. Maybe they were lying to me about being a villain and a traitor, but still… all that time they spent with me they weren’t with you. How does that feel?”

Villain didn’t answer. Instead, they drew their arm back sharply and the shadows yanked Hero down the bed. Hero kicked and fought, but they were struggling against air and shadows. With their hands locked uselessly in front of them and without their powers Hero could do nothing as the shadows kept dragging Hero towards the bars where Villain stood.

“You’re not worth the effort,” Villain spat as they reached up and pressed their actual cold hand to Hero’s throat, keeping their chin up and forcing them to look into Villain’s cool black eyes, burning with an old kind of hatred.

“Mmm,” Hero said, clearing their throat with a slight cough that highlighted Villain’s hands on their throat. “Maybe you should ask Fly—”

Villain cut Hero off by squeezing their hand around Hero’s throat. Hero pulled back, but it was as if a wall was behind them squishing them towards the bars, to Villain’s hand and their unyielding grip. Hero couldn’t even use their hands to free themselves because they were squished between their rib cage and the iron bars of the cell.

Eventually Villain let go and Hero pushed back a little, gasping in lungfuls of air.

“I don’t even know what he sees in you,” Villain hissed, and Hero looked up through their lashes, still wheezing for oxygen and said: “my devil may care charm, perhaps.”

A hand gripped the back of Hero’s head and slammed their nose into the bars in front of them. Hero gripped the bars on instinct when a loud resounding crunch echoed through Hero’s head, along with their sharp cry of pain. Warm blood started flowing down their nose and lips, dripping passed their chin and onto their shirt.

“Motherfucker,” Hero gasped out. Then their head was shoved down again and Hero cried out in pain, the impact hitting their bridge square on the bars and causing the blood to gush, some going down the back of their throat and Hero coughed, the taste of iron staining their mouth. Enraged Hero spit some of the blood into Villain’s stupid, smirking face.

Villain smiled and it seemed to suck all confidence from Hero’s very soul. A smile so dark it struck fear straight to Hero’s heart.

“Ah. I see now what he likes about you. You look perfect when you’re bleeding and scared.”

Hero couldn’t help themselves as the words spilled from their mouth: “you creep. At least buy me dinner first.”

Then Hero was forced onto their knees by the shadows holding them. Villain grabbed Hero’s chin, tilting their head side to side, examining them. Hero tried to push back, to stand up, to do anything. But the shadows kept them exactly how Villain wanted them.

“There. Beautiful,” Villain said. Hero’s blood was dripping onto Villain’s hand, but they didn’t seem to care. Hero sucked in a breath through gritted teeth and choked on some of the blood, sputtering slightly. Villain’s eyes seared into Hero’s soul, watching them struggle and revelling in it. Villain pressed their hand that was soaked in Hero’s blood to Hero’s cheek, wiping the remnants on Hero before straightening up properly.

Villain released them and Hero fell to all fours, coughing out the blood onto the concrete floor. Painting the miserable grey, a bright red. When Hero looked up again Villain was gone, but the fear they had trapped in Hero’s chest was still very much there.

Lingering.

Hero retreated to the back wall of the cell, sitting on the cot again and resting their head back against the wall, waiting for the blood to stop falling and cursing themselves.

What kind of idiot were they to be stuck here? Hero should have told Sidekick when they got the tip about Villain… they should have told them that they were going to rough Villain up a bit, get the information they needed on Other Villain’s whereabouts and beat the shit out of them. Just a little revenge for touching a hair on Sidekick’s innocent head.

Even if they managed to catch Villain and mete out justice on Other Villain, they would have beaten the ever-living shit out of the wrong person, and that was something Hero didn’t want to think about in that moment.

That Flynn…

Their Flynn was the one who put Sidekick in the med bay.

Sidekick, who was still in the med bay, where Hero should be, but no. Instead, they were here, powerless and bleeding and it was all their fault.

*~*~*~*~*

Continued here

The Orphanage, or, the tag-list: @princess-bubble-blossom @morning-star-whump

[i-amsoup]

Star Trek needs to capitalize on the fact that it has such a cool and expansive universe. They need to make more shows/movies/stories centered around the more niche corners of the galaxy. I want truckstop romance stories between a Vulcan freighter captain and a human waiter whose claustrophobia won’t let them get on a space ship. I want an epic political thriller of an orphan gorn egg raised by a ferengi family, I want to learn how a Klingon family started a barbecue joint on Kronos and became universe famous for their lava butter (there actually is something like this in the Star Trek travel guide but it’s such a short snippet and I want to know more), I want to see the drama of a Klingon opera, i want to see the stories that are always just out of focus.

There are just so many cool ideas. And not to say I don’t love the challenge of the weekly crew style but we saw how interesting the stories can get if you expand past just starfleet (especially in ds9)

[chaotic-orphan]

“Right,” Hero said, not at all believing them and letting their suspicion show. “Good guesser. Except for when Medic got hurt, right?”

Leader tilted their head at Hero, a wry smile on their lips.

“What, Hero? Do you think I’m in cahoots with Villain?” Leader asked, biting into their apple, their easy self-deprecating expression fixed on their face.

Hero shrugged. “Dunno. Are you?”

Leader’s smile turned sour. “Are you actually asking me that, Hero?”

Hero’s eyes narrowed, letting the silence speak for them. Leader scoffed, hopping off the kitchen counter and strutting up to Hero. Hero’s heart hammered against their chest, but they forced themself not to move. They just kept their eyes on Leader’s and the closer Leader got, craned their neck up to glare at them.

Leader was a good head taller than them, but Hero didn’t back down. Not now.

Not after every coincidence that they’d been connecting the dots between to expose the bigger picture here, and that was the conclusion Hero came to. That Leader had to be in league with Villain, that they were planning this show of Heroes and Villains for the public to see but it was a little too clean. A little too polished.

“Are you sure this isn’t your guilt speaking right now, Hero?” Leader asked, voice deceptively gentle. Hero felt a pang of guilt beat in their gut, but they didn’t let it show on their face. “That you weren’t where you needed to be and that’s why Medic got hurt?”

“That’s not true and you know it,” Hero ground out, clenching their hands into fists at their sides.

Leader’s piercing blue eyes stared down at Hero, impenetrable and cold. “No? So Medic didn’t get hurt because you followed Villain away when I explicitly told you to stay behind?”

Hero swallowed and looked away, not wanting to show Leader the unshed tears gathering in their eyes. Leader followed them, stepping around to catch Hero’s eyes again, fury burning in Leader’s.

“Maybe I should be questioning you as to whether you’re in league with Villain, hmm? Did you want Medic to get hurt, was that it?”

“Of course not!” Hero yelled, turning their head sharply toward Leader who had the same twisted snarl of anger pulling their lips back.

Leader sighed and broke the eye contact then, running a hand through their hair. “Look, Hero,” Leader began, voice tired and diplomatic. “I— we’re all feeling the loss of Medic right now in the team, okay? I understand that, emotions are running high… but we can’t turn on each other.”

Hero sniffed, looking away. Leader placed a comforting hand on Hero’s shoulder and when they didn’t flinch brought them into a hug. A warm bear hug where Leader shushed and soothed Hero as they cried into Leader’s chest.

“It’s okay. We have to hope that Medic will make it, but we can’t let this divide us, or else Villain will actually win. Villain will hurt more people if we don’t trust each other. That goes for all of us, me, you, Rogue, Youngest… we need to be strong while Medic’s recovering.”

Hero nodded into Leader’s chest, and let out a soft, vulnerable: “okay.” Then a watery, “I’m sorry, Leader…”

“Don’t be daft. I’m sorry too. We’ll get Villain, Hero. I promise you.”

Hero sniffed and nodded, and pulled away. “Okay. I trust you.”

“Go get some rest, Hero. It’s been a long 24 hours.”

“I—“

“That’s an order, Hero. I can’t have you off your game because you’re sleep deprived.”

Hero sniffed again and nodded, then made for the hallway. They paused at the doorframe, turned and looked back at Leader. Then walked down the hall to their bedroom.

Leader waited until their footsteps retreated and they heard the squeak of Hero’s door open and close. Then Leader walked out into the hall, a little smile on their face as they ran their hand through their hair.

They could hear Hero take off their gear and their shoes, ready for bed, completely at ease with Leader’s words.

And it was so easy.

Leader took another bite from their apple, happy, as they walked down the opposite way to Hero, going to their office and closing the heavy door. More private that way.

Villain was already in the office, waiting for Leader. Their face was sour, glowering in the dark like a brooding Villain should.

“What are you so happy about?” Villain huffed.

Leader smiled, taking another bite of their apple. “Hero won’t be a problem. Your services are no longer needed tonight.”

Villain pushed off the wall. “Yeah. No longer needed tonight. They’ll become a problem again, Leader. The best time to strike is—“

“I have Hero wrapped around my little finger, Vil, relax. We can wait them out, and when Hero gets suspicious again it will be too late.”

Villain’s frown deepened. “You want to move up the timeline.”

“With Medic out of our way there is nothing to stop us. Plus,” Leader shrugged, eyes growing dark, “the mayor has been too comfortable for too long. I think it’s damn time we tell him to step aside.”

“And your band of heroes? What about them?”

Leader shot a wicked grin at Villain. “I slipped sleeping draught into their dinner tonight. They’re all going to be out when we move. Tomorrow.”

Villain nodded. “Tomorrow it is.”

Prompt #3492

"How did you predict everything [villain] was going to do?"

"Aw, you know me. I'm just a good guesser."

[lanaluuart]

I'm still on the fence about the kid's design but figured I'd share. I'll prolly do some art posts with snippets of their story. Still not 100% sold on it but just playing around.

Post-Veilguard shenanigans. Dabbling in Arlen and Dorian adopting an orphaned kid that kinda got incredibly attached to Arlen because he's the cool hero guy his late father told him stories about.

Nameless atm, his father was in Cullen's army during the Inquisition and passed away due to complications from injuries some years after the Inquisition disbanded. (Spoilers for Dragon Age: The Veilguard) His mother died during the attack on Minrathous leaving him orphaned for months, wandering the streets of Dock Town.