#crabwalks away...

[730kc]

be good now // cinders | ch. 19 : “We’re running away.” - “No, we aren’t. It’s a tactical retreat."

[hazeleafyy]

the infamous potlid incident

Ever since I saw Daruk's diary I can't stop thinking about this scene in my head. A literal pot lid got Link appointed to be Zelda's guard.....

Impa probably scampers over to check on Zelda and Link uses that moment to crabwalk away before he can make a bigger fool of himself😂

[nightingale-prompts]

Danny lives in a horror movie-DC x DP prompt

Based on my favorite book series "tales from the gas station"

It's not every day that a mission requires the league to travel to middle America in a bid to obtain a highly cursed artifact but it certainly is today.

Locating the Seal of Silent Ashes was a task usually given to Justice League Dark but Constantine was currently busy. So that meant it was left to the poster boys to get this done. They dressed in civilian attire to investigate the last location of the seal starting with the first building on the edge of town. A small dusty gas station near the woods.

The inside had an awful smell, like death and cleaning fluid. The lights gave off a greenish-blue tint. Rats could be seen out of the corner of your eyes. Most of the chips were offbrand and crappy.

Behind the counter was the teenage boy chewing gum. He looked up at the group before going back to reading his book. He had clearly seen better days but didn't show signs of caring about the state of his hair or bags under his eyes. He drank his coffee.

The air felt off.

"Hey kiddo, do you mind giving us directions?" Clark started.

The kid narrowed his eyes as he popped his gum.

"You're not from here. That or you're from that cult in the woods. Listen I'm not joining. Seriously, cosmic nihilism and fatalism sounds doomed. Hey wait-" the teen checked his notes " No, the cult killed themselves in that mass suicide 2 weeks ago. I forgot, sorry."

The teen didn't say anything else as he went back to his book.

The horrified look of the adults shared was almost hilarious. At least to the teen if he looked up.

"Oh, and stay out of the woods. I don't want the police to come back and ask about who saw you last. Seriously if whatever is in there tears you apart I won't feel bad. I put those signs out forever ago and if I get one more girl covered in blood running in here screaming about her dead friends I'll get a headache." The teen shrugged turning the page.

"What do you mean?! Why would-?! Who's killing people?!" Barry asked frantically as Bruce serched for more reports of missing people in the area.

"I don't know. Why would I know? If you want to go in the cursed forest go ahead. I mean that's how they all die. It isn't my job to stop you. My job is to sit here and watch this store." The teen huffed in annoyance.

Before anymore questions were asked the signal of the radio was disrupted and a demonic howl screeched through the radio.

"God damnit. That cunt is back. Stay here." The teen growled as he grabbed his bat from under the counter and walked out the back door. "String bean! Get off the fucking roof you bastard! You know that radio is all I have here!"

A chattering laugh like a death rattle was heard and the sound of 2 sets of feet was heard on the roof then they lept down.

"Come here so I can beat you to death!" The teen ran around the building towards the front of the gas station chasing-what the fuck is that!

It was like a human that was twisted to crabwalk on all fours backwards. Its face was contorted into a black stretched-out smile with no teeth. It had no eyes just black sockets. All its limbs were stretched out to an extra meter in length. It was a skinwalker of some kind with chalk-white skin. It was skittering away from the teen who was swinging his bat at its head.

"Stop running! I told you before what would happen if I found you fucking with me again!" The boy meant it as he finally landed a hit and began wacking it over and over it.

The skin walker screeched and tried to run for its life but couldn't.

After reducing the monster into a black puddle the black-stained teen came back inside to sit back down not paying anymore to the monster blood he was covered in.

"Sorry about that. Most of the freaks around here have learned to stay away from this place. That one is new and he doesn't listen. You'd think they'd learn but Sting Bean thinks he can torment me. Petty bastard." The teen sighed "anyways are going to buy anything or are you going to waste what oxygen we get in here with this shitty ventilation.

Diana couldn't help but admire the boldness of the boy. He had no hesitation or fear against the beasts of this area even if was crude.

"Does Constantine have a cousin or something? Just a more angry one" Barry whispered to Hal.

[bumblehoneybee]

Im ssorry but the idea of the players kitten sneaking into their messenger bag before the reader went to poppy playtime and the reader only sees this after they've saved DogDay is comedy gold to me(totally based off of those videos of people's cats falling asleep in their school bags without the person realizing) and now DogDay has a kitten that's trying play with him by doing that silly goofy crabwalk thingy

You Gotta Be Kitten Me

Domino was always the adventurous sort. Never scared of anything, or if he was, he'd always try to intimidate it. It never really worked with the vacuum or thunder, but it was cute to see him be so brave.

Now? Not so much.

Well, it was kinda funny, seeing as your kitten (which you did not realize had tagged along inside your bag; how was he still uninjured after all the bullshit you went through?) had Dogday cornered. Seemed your newest friend wasn't sure what to do about Domino, choosing to instead press himself away from the cat that hopped around his feet.

"Angel?" Dogday called to you, unable to look away from how Domino walked at him side ways, tail up, mewing loud. When you just giggled, Dogday let out a whine. "Angel, please."

"Dogday, you're 200 times his size. Just push him aside."

Dogday grumbled at that. Still, he carefully used his hand to shove Domino to the side. The cat meowed and tumbled away, allowing Dogday to drag himself over to your side. Domino, not one to go down easy, chased after.

"He likes you." You said, plucking the kitten up before he could fully pounce onto Dogday's back. Domino mewed in protest, but a quick scritch under the chin soothed his anger. "Sorry, Dogday. I promise I won't let him scratch you."

Dogday didn't respond. Instead, he carefully pressed his nose to Domino's. The kitten purred.

"I can't believe you brought a baby here, angel."

"Wha-" You sputtered, catching Domino's attention enough to garner him climbing up to your shoulder. "I didn't bring him on purpose! He snuck into my bag!"

Dogday just shook his head. "Poor judgement on your part, angel."

"That's it. Domino, attack!"

"Guh!" Dogday tumbled back as a kitten smacked his face. "Angel! Angel!"

"Lie in the grave you dug, bastard!"

[pingnova]

I met a quiet old man while browsing the plant books and accessories at the trading post this spring who asked what I was looking for. Most white people came to look at the jewelry and the expensive woolen blankets, so I guess it was a little unusual how closely I was examining all of the books on plants.

I held up a deck of native plant playing cards and said I was a forager, looking for more guides on local plants. He nodded thoughtfully and said there was a lot of medicine in wild plants. I smiled awkwardly, not sure why he was talking to me. But I reciprocated: "What are you looking for?"

He said he wasn't sure. He pointed to a few books on flowers, not necessarily edible vegetables. "They're beautiful," he said unsurely.

I nodded to encourage him. "Plants aren't just for eating, they're for appreciating too. We need beauty and nutrition."

Now he smiled, mostly hidden by his mustache, and told me he had a community garden plot he had tended for the past thirty years. Wow, what dedication.

Abruptly he says he has one year to live. He's at the trading post to find parting gifts for his son and grandchildren. He says this all very calmly, he's clearly been preparing for some time. And I stare at him because he seems so well and I've just met him. The idea of him dead is disturbing and shameful.

"Oh," is all I can say.

"I think this year I'll fill it with flowers."

He says it so warmly. I remember he was talking about his beloved community garden patch. I'm filled with heaviness and disbelief that he is soon dying and here wasting time talking to some random about growing flowers. But I manage to stammer something.

"It can't all be vegetables. Soft and beautiful things are important too. Especially in hard times."

Now he fully turns to smile at me. Again in my shock I think he's too content. Shouldn't he be raging? Crying, screaming, anything? But his mustache is white, he mentioned an adult son and grandkids, he seems well enough now and reasonably confident in his plan for a full season of flower gardening. Rapid-fire I conclude he's already done all of this and doesn't need it from me. Right now he's just discussing how important and sacred plants are with a likeminded young stranger.

He finally says, "Flowers are a soft landing after a long battle."

I choke out some kind of agreement so I don't accidentally cry. I wish him some kind of luck and awkwardly crabwalk away. I'm not really the king of social interaction even when its not emotionally loaded.

I bought my cards and books on vegetables and looked at the lone few on flowers he had been perusing. I'm in my twenties and don't plan on dying anytime soon, but how much time do I spend being as fast, efficient, and artless as possible in order to "survive" when that survival is never even in question. I have anxiety, I have ptsd, I'm an activist. All necessary and inescapable works of life. But this man had a season to live, death certain, and wanted to spend it growing flowers.

I went back to the register with a small book on flowers. When I'm hunting a forest to learn the native vegetables, I no longer ignore the blooms. If the battle is long, I want to grow flowers too.

[idrawweirdstuffnominors]

This is so random bit could you write a fic where fem reader pierces Pete's ear at a sleepover? (Before epilouge.) Anyway toodles!!!!! Runs back into the basement I crabwalked out of

(LOL absolutely <3

"Just a Little Prick"

Pete sprawled out in your desk chair like it owed him rent, arms crossed, a smirk tugging at his mouth. “This is the dumbest idea you’ve ever had,” he said, nodding toward the piercing kit on your desk. “And that’s really sayin' somethin”

You arched a brow. “You’re the one who said, and I quote, ‘I’d look sick with a stud.’”

“I was jokin',” he said quickly, then added, “...mostly.”

You snapped on a glove with a little pop. “Uh huh. Well, sit still or I’ll pierce something else.”

“Ha ha. Real funny.” He shifted in the chair, suddenly not quite so cocky. “You better not screw this up. I don’t wanna look like some Hot Topic reject.”

You stepped between his legs, tilting his chin with two fingers to get a better look at his ear. His breath hitched—just barely.

“says the guy who is obsessed with goth girls,” you murmured, dabbing his earlobe with the alcohol pad. “Might as well commit.”

His face twisted, but it wasn’t quite a grimace. “You got, like… actual experience with this? Or is this some youtube crap?”

You smirked. “Shut up and trust me.”

He rolled his eyes hard, but didn’t pull away. You were close now—close enough to see the slight flush in his cheeks despite all the attitude.

“Count of three,” you said. “One…”

You pierced him on two.

“OW—what the hell?!” he snapped, jerking slightly before freezing in place. “You said three!”

“You shouldn’t have doubted me,” you said sweetly, wiping away a tiny smear of blood and admiring your work. “Looks good, actually. Kinda hot.”

Pete blinked. “Wait, seriously?” He turned to the mirror, inspecting the stud. “Huh. Not bad. I mean—obviously it looks good. I could pull off anythin.”

You leaned forward, one hand on his thigh, the other brushing his jaw. “Maybe I’ll do your other ear next time.”

He looked up at you, swallowing hard. “You’re, uh… still really close.”

“Do you want me to move?”

He hesitated—just long enough to give himself away. “...No. Whatever. You’re fine.”

You kissed him—just a soft, teasing press of lips. He kissed back like he was trying not to look like he was into it (but totally was).

When you pulled away, he stared at you, wide-eyed. “So… when’s the next sleepover?”

[adventuringblind]

I HEARD MAXOSCAR THOUGHTS HOLD PLS

SO ghoulverse - i feel like that clip would've been oscar explaining to max why he didn't want to eat, and what was his reasoning and all that and THEN max just gives him a look and then oscar goes: ........ but maybe i can reconsider..... and then awkward crabwalk away

NOW LET'S MOVE OUT OF THE GHOULVERSE AND INTO ONE OF MY FAVORITES... dark?mob? idk what to call it but it's in one of those themes

max, our dear head of the... mob/mafia/whatever it is... would be fiercely protective of oscar. nobody knew why the big boss was taking such an interest in a new recruit, but then said new recruit showed his skills (if this were a 3some situation he'd protect max's gf and they both go 👀 i want him now and we'll see some struggle about 'but they're my bosses???') in like... well... have you seen oscar isn't that the kid who could do pretty much everything and still mantain a straight face and bonus he can hold his liquor pretty well??

and then cue tipsy confessions from either the big boss or the not-yet-missus?? AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH

but also alpha osc and omega max - a combo no one saw

and then of course there's black cat osc and orange cat max - let's be real max won't be a golden retriever that's lando

signed, 🥘 (aka a moot (i think?) that wants to go on anon for a bit)

OHMYGOOOOOOOD YOUR AMAZING

Okay first off ghoulverse Max and Oscar are so beloved to me because in md(abmtoumm) on ao3 I love the platonic brotherly relationship!! Just Max dragging Oscar everywhere when they first meet cause he's got a playmate now and then dragging him to political shit he doesn't want to do. They have a special place in my heart T_T

Okay, but mafia boss Max being like "this is my new favorite" and pointing to Oscar and everyone giving Oscar so much shit for it until they realize WHY. Just imagine Oscar is sitting somewhere, probably eating with Max's girl, who he's been charged to protect and he pulls a gone on someone while taking bites of his waffles.

"Don't ruin my breakfast, mate." But guess what?! Breakfast gets ruined and Oscar looks so grumpy and now there is some guy with a bullet in his head while the two of them finish eating.

Hence! Being Max's favorite and Oscar just shrugging when people ask how it happened.

Alpha Osc and omega Max?!?! Max screams independent omega who doesn't want to be independent? Idk if that makes sense BUT HEAR ME OUT-

Oscar is just so easy going and laid back that I feel like when Max gets annoyed and lashes out he'd just take it on the chin and let Max vent his frustrations with active listening skills.

The last one I'm gonna be honest that idk what the orange cat thing is... CANT GET MAD BECAUSE IM NOT GOOD WITH THOSE THINGS

(I love these two your honor)

[brandwhorestarscream]

"When they wake up 🤭 ooh, it's gonna be fun."

You can't just leave it there! How is D reacting to the hive? What is Orion doing, is he trying to get to D, worried about him? Does D try to reassure Orion? (Does D want Orion to join the hive and be his favorite Sire when he matures?) What does Galvatron think about his lost little morphling and the morphling's friend?

What is going to happen in the hive?

Im gonna try so hard to answer these coherently but im sick as a dog and moderately dying so if this is nonsense...... im sorry

- Dee's reaction to the hivemind is... weird. He's unconscious for a long time, and when Orion asks, Queen Galvatron says he's "merging". His consciousness has been a lonely thread for so long, but now is being taken and woven into the large, forever expanding tapestry that is the hivemind. It happens while he's asleep, all of his memories broken down and assimilated, pieces of himself melting away and blending harmoniously with all the others. They come to know him, deeply and more intimately than anyone else ever could, and he comes to know each of them in turn, before he's even awake. When he finally rouses, there's a Presence in his head. Hundreds, thousands of others, all vibrating at the same frequency and hovering like a thin, flexible layer around his brain. They're there, inexplicably, so many people its dizzying. There you are, the hivemind rings with a thousand voices as one. Welcome home, we've missed you. Dee grabs at his helm, startled that he can not quite hear but know their intents, their feelings, their lives. Its overwhelming at first, and a soft trickle of warmth and comfort trickles in. We're safe here, don't be afraid.

- As for what Orion is doing? He's the first one to wake up in the throne room of the hive, laying on the floor before Galvatron. His first time seeing a cybermorph queen is so startling he screams, clumsily crabwalking backwards and trying to put distance between them as soon as he's awake. The queen looks monstrous, sitting upon his ovipositor and hanging from the ceiling, giant crest and four arms and a body covered in ridges and strange plates, giant dorsal tubes bigger than Orion's whole body jutting out of his back. Orion backs up til his back hits a wall, and he looks up to a find a grotesque sight: the walls are covered, strewn top to bottom with countless quintesson corpses. Each one trapped in a hardened, glistening resin, with a gaping, explosive hole in their chests where Galvatron's offspring have escaped.

"Relax, little one," he's not expecting the queen to speak, and quails under his attention. "I mean you no harm."

Upon closer inspection, he finds D-16 delicately cradled in the queen's secondary arms, being gently rocked as if he's just a sparkling. Elita and Bumblebee are nearby, still unconscious, restrained with resin. The coneheads that tried to abduct them are... he shudders in terror when he sees them on the wall, facehuggers wrapped snugly around their helms. He's terrified, but manages to squeak out the question: what is going on?!

Galvatron tells him the story, of how he and his first praetorians were born. These morphs don't have any beef with the cybertronians, no: their primary food source and incubators are the quintessons. He has no interest in hurting the bots. Why would he? They're scrawny and taste terrible compared to the quints.

Galvatron assures him that "the princess" is fine. Orion doesn't know what that means, and imagine his surprise when he finds out that D-16 isn't just a morph: he's an infant queen, specially conceived between Galvatron and one of his mates, who through a series of unfortunate circumstances ended up in Iacon. One day he'll grow to be just as big as his carrier, maybe even larger, mothering his own hive and exoanding the cybermorphs numbers to help defeat the quintessons once and for all

- When Dee wakes up, as I mentioned, he's very disoriented. Having another identity crisis because, with the hivemind, he's not even sure that he's himself anymore. Being a fully autonomous singularity isn't really possible with the hivemind: you will always carry a part of everyone with you, just as every single one of them will always carry a part of you with them. Being one with the hivemind is like a higher state of being, becoming infinitely more than you ever could be alone. If anything, I think Oriom actually ends up reassuring Dee, promising once again that he's still the D-16 they know and love, and they'll never just abandon him because of what species he is 🤭

- Dee isn't thinking about having Orion join the hive at this point, but in the future? Absolutely. Every Orion Pax is a grade A monsterfucker, and he's very eager to get his dick wet in tight alien cybermorph pussy 😌 he becomes Queen Megatron's favorite sire... and, perhaps, even his loyal King, commanding their forces of drones and warriors on the battlefield while his Queen lies below the surface, laying eggs to bolster their legions further.

- Galvatron is so relieved to have his morphling back. Megatron was the first royal egg he ever created with his beloved mate, and it breaks his spark + fills him with rage that he had to miss so much of his childhood. He vows to make up for lost time, to spend as much time as possible spoiling his son and showering him with love 💖 as for how he feels about Dee's friends... he quietly approves of Orion. His fierce protective spirit and dogged defense of D-16 speaks volumes, and in fact it reminds him a bit of how he and Terminus used to be, back in the day. Elita and Bee, he's not as sold on them, but he can't really fault them for being cautious. They're just kids. They're restrained but haven't been impregnated (unlike the coneheads, who get the harsh chestburster punishment for daring to hurt the princess and his companions).

- As for what's going to happen next... well 🤭 Megatron isn't allowed to leave. They just got him back, so he's not going anywhere. He doesn't know how to block out the hivemind yet, and even if he fights as hard as he can, the drones and warriors and praetors outnumber him 10,000:1 and can read his mind. There is -5 chance of escape.

The other 3, though? I'm not sure. I don't think Galvatron would force them to stay, nor be converted. He has very little interest in the cybertronians as a whole. Elita and Bee are very gung-ho about leaving as soon as possible--they still need to get the proof to Iacon, after all!--but Orion hesitates. He... He can't just leave Dee here all alone, right...?

[clown-friend-gt]

Up, Up, and Away Chapter 7

This chapter is a bit long because I combined two chapters into one. That also means I only have one completed chapter after this one, which I'll probably post later this week. There may or may not be a short hiatus after that while I work on writing more chapters. Thanks for understanding.

Link to Masterpost

************************************************************************

Left Alone

2.8k words

(CW: More police stuff, body horror)

The next few hours were a blur. More people from the institute arrived to take Trevor away. Around that same time, EMT’s arrived, wheeling Robbie away on a stretcher. Trevor had just enough time to watch them load him into an ambulance before the institute agents shoved him into the back of a gray van with the logo of the institute’s enforcement department on the side.

The ride over was not a smooth one. He was too big to fit in any of the seats that lined the sides of the walls, so he had to lay on the floor, crammed in like a sardine. Whenever the van took a particularly sharp turn, he’d be slammed into the wall, and the whole van would tilt dangerously to the side.

“Settle down back there!” The driver yelled back at him after the van crashed back onto four wheels.

If you don’t want the van to flip over, maybe stop driving like a maniac, Trevor thought, but said nothing. He didn’t need to make more trouble for himself.

Trevor thought he knew the city pretty well. But with no view of the outside and all of the twists and turns, he had no idea where they were headed. All he knew was that based on how long they’d been driving, it was pretty far outside of San Solaris.

He wondered what his mom was thinking right now. Would she be worried after he didn’t come home? Had anyone told her what had happened? She’d done so much for him since this all started, trying to keep him from going insane. And he’d just thrown it all away.

Then his thoughts drifted to Robbie. Would he be okay? He looked to be in pretty bad shape when they took him to the hospital. He hadn’t wanted to hurt him, not really. He just wanted to scare him off. But he’d underestimated his own strength, and now both of them were paying for it.

God, he was disgusted with himself. Maybe Robbie was right. Maybe he was a freak. After all, what kind of person would do such a thing? The way Robbie had crumpled when he hit that wall, it made Trevor shudder to think of now.

As he stewed in silence, he didn’t notice the van come to a stop. Then someone pounded on the side of the van, jolting him from his thoughts. The doors opened, but from his crumpled-up position, he could hardly see outside.

“We’re here. Get out,” came an authoritative voice from the outside.

“Just a minute.” Trevor started wriggling around, trying to free himself.

He managed to straighten his legs and plant them on the ground outside. From there, he did a kind of half-crabwalk to pull his torso from the van. Once it was no longer underneath him though, he collapsed onto his back, his legs folding awkwardly beneath him.

“Ow,” he muttered to himself.

An institute official stood over him, arms crossed. He wore slacks, a light blue button up shirt, a tie, and suspenders. His name badge read “Ray Morgan.”

“Get up,” he ordered.

“I’m trying,” Trevor complained, struggling to try and sit up. But with his legs trapped and his hands bound, it was almost impossible. He sighed, defeated.

“I can’t. I’m stuck,” he told the official.

“Seriously?”

“Maybe if I could use my hands…” he snarked.

Morgan sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose.

“Fine, hold on,” he said, retrieving a small remote from his pocket. He pointed it at Trevor and clicked a button, causing his cuffs to buzz again. He felt the magnetic pull they on each other turn off. Slowly, he rolled over and pushed himself up. Once he was standing, he shook himself out, trying to regain feeling in his limbs.

He looked at the cuffs on his wrist. There was a light on the side of one that glowed yellow. Before he could try and guess what that meant, Morgan spoke up again.

“Don’t get any ideas on me now,” he said, pressing another button on the remote.

The light flashed red, and with a buzz, the cuffs snapped together once more. So much for that.

Now that his hands were connected in front of him, he grabbed Trevor by the elbow and tried to pull him forward. He didn’t budge. Morgan slowly seemed to realize that he’d need a lot more force to move Trevor than he could muster on his own.

“Work with me here, kid,” he said, sounding exasperated.

Trevor rolled his eyes, but started walking in the direction he was leading him.

Between the lingering effects of the growth spurt he’d had the night before and being stuck in the back of a van for nearly an hour, Trevor had expected to be in more pain. But the cuffs he wore had some kind of numbing effect on him, so he felt fine. If it wasn’t for the situation he was in, he might have been glad to have them.

They headed towards an imposing-looking brick building. A sign above the door read “The Lively Institute: Juvenile Corrections Center.” Now there was no mistaking how much trouble he was in.

Trevor was led inside. He had enough room to stand in the entrance hall, which had higher ceilings. But the official directing him quickly ushered him past the front desk and into the hallway, which was significantly shorter, so he had to crouch most of the time.

Morgan led him to a room with an institute staff member who dressed more like a police officer, kind of like Mr. Roberts had. Morgan directed the officer to pat Trevor down.

“I can do this myself, you know,” Trevor told Morgan as the officer removed his keys, his wallet, and his phone from his pockets.

Morgan shook his head. “Can’t let you do that. Safety risk, and all.”

Then he led Trevor to another room to have his picture taken for his mugshot. As they entered the room, Trevor spotted a potential issue.

“This only goes up to seven feet,” he said, pointing to the height chart on the wall.

Morgan rubbed his forehead, clearly starting to get a little fed up with this whole situation.

“Just kind of…crouch down into frame,” he said, motioning with one hand as he spoke. “You let us worry about the rest.”

Trevor shrugged and did as he was told, carefully maintaining his balance as the camera’s light flashed. Then he turned to the side so they could repeat the process.

After that, Morgan led him to one final room. Once they were there, he led Trevor over to a screen mounted on the wall.

“Put your thumb here,” he instructed Trevor.

“Why?”

“So we can record your fingerprints.”

“Oh,” he said, pressing his thumb to the screen. “Don’t they normally dip your fingers in ink for that?”

Morgan shook his head. “Nah, we stopped doing that years ago.”

After a moment, a light on the screen flashed green.

“Okay, now for your pointer finger…”

After he pressed each of his fingers to the screen in turn, Morgan led him back into the hall.

“You’re all checked in, sir,” he said with an ironic flourish. “Right this way, I’ll lead you to your room.”

Trevor knit his brows in confusion. “My room?”

Morgan sighed. “It was a joke. You go into the same holding cell as everyone else.”

He motioned for Trevor to follow him. Just before they got to the cell, Morgan stopped him and pointed to the phone mounted on the wall in the hallway.

“You get one call,” he told him.

He nodded. He’d call his mom, of course. She had to be worried sick by now. He plucked the handset off its hook in a few fingers. Then he went to press the first digit of her number with his pinky.

He stopped, his finger hovering over the button. He felt his stomach drop. What would he even say to her? How could he face her, after what he’d done?

“…Does my mom know I’m here?” he asked Morgan.

“Yeah, she got the word whenever you were arrested,” he confirmed.

Trevor pressed his lips into a fine line, before eventually placing the phone back on its hook and stepping away.

“You only get this one chance to call someone,” Morgan warned him.

Trevor shut his eyes and shook his head.

“I don’t need it,” he told him.

Morgan put his thumbs in his pockets and shrugged. He opened the door to the holding cell and gestured for Trevor to enter.

“After you, Monsieur.” He stepped aside and allowed Trevor to squeeze himself into the room. Then, after one last look after him, he shut the door behind him, leaving Trevor alone in the room.

************************************************************************

The holding cell wasn’t what he thought it’d be. He’d been expecting a door with iron bars, one of those prison beds that was hooked to the wall, stuff like that. What he got instead was a plain-looking room with a few benches. The only indication he was under surveillance now was a camera in the corner and a window that looked to the hall outside.

He sat up against the wall for a few hours, replaying the events of the day in his head. If only he’d kept his cool. If only he hadn’t hit Robbie so hard.

If only.

Then a voice came down the hall. It was one he knew well.

“Where is he?” his mom was shouting. “I want to see my son.”

“Please calm down, Ms.…?” someone responded.

“Castillo,” she shot back.

“Ms. Castillo. No one is allowed to visit detainees until we review their case.”

“Can’t I post bail or something?”

“This isn’t a police station. We do things a bit differently here.”

“That’s insane, he’s just a kid,” she yelled. “He has rights!”

“Ma’am, please stay calm,” the other voice tried to assure her.

“This is stupid. I’m going back there.”

“Ma’am, no—” there was a sound of a scuffle.

“Hey!” his mom cried out in alarm. Trevor shot to his feet.

“Mom?” he called out. He got no response. Instead, all he heard was more sounds of a struggle.

“Let go of me!” He heard her shout. He ran to the door and tried the handle. It jiggled uselessly in his cuffed hands.

Ugh, these stupid cuffs. If only I could—

Trevor strained against his cuffs with all his might. After a moment, they came apart for just a second. Then they clapped back together like nothing had happened. That wouldn’t help him anytime soon.

So instead, he lowered himself down so his shoulder was level with the door. He took a step back, then crashed into the door with all his weight. The door splintered into pieces, sending him stumbling out into the hallway. He shook himself off and stood up to his full height. At least, as much as he could in these hallways.

At the other end of the hall, his mom was struggling against two officers. One held her by either arm. They all turned to look at the sound of the disturbance.

“Let go of her,” he bellowed, charging down the hall towards them.

His mother’s eyes widened in terror as he came barreling down the hall. That caused him to hesitate. Her fear didn’t seem to be directed towards the men who held her.

No. She was afraid of him.

He slowed down, stopping short a few feet from her. After a moment of silence, he spoke up.

“Mom, I—” he raised his hands, reaching for her.

She flinched.

He stared at the three people cowering in front of him. They stared back, varying levels of fear written on their faces. He took a step back, then another. Then he turned and hurried back to the holding cell.

Just before he reached the door, he heard his mom start to speak.

“Mijo, espera—!”

Trevor paused but didn’t look her way. He couldn’t bear to see that look in her eyes again.

He bent down and squeezed himself through the empty doorframe without another word. He took a few more steps before slumping against the wall and sliding to the floor. He sat there with his knees bent, his arms resting on top. Then he buried his face in his arms.

He didn’t even have it in him to cry.

“This way, ma’am,” he heard one of the officers tell his mom, presumably leading her back to the front. This time, she put up no fight.

Now they all knew he belonged in here.

************************************************************************

Nothing else really happened that night. Because he’d removed the door keeping him there, they kept an officer stationed at the doorway at all times. Every few hours, they’d shift one officer out for another. Where before everyone had treated him with aloofness, their attitudes towards him now seemed to vary from thinly veiled paranoia to downright contempt.

The officer watching him now fell into the first category. Any time Trevor looked over at him, his hand seemed to instinctually hover down to his belt. Never quite coming to rest on the holster of his weapon, but never straying far from it either. Trevor didn’t bother telling him that he had no plans to try and escape again. Even if the man believed him, it still made sense for him to treat him like a monster.

He certainly felt like one now.

Eventually, the lights shut off. There was no clock in the room, but if he had to guess, it was probably getting pretty late. He supposed he should try and get some sleep.

The way he saw it, he had two choices. He could either stay sitting against the wall like he was or try laying out on the floor. Neither sounded all that appealing. But his neck was starting to cramp up in this position, so he decided to try laying down.

As he stood up, a wave of exhaustion hit him. He stumbled forward a step before regaining his balance. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the officer watching him nearly jump out of his skin, his hand flying down to his holster.

“Don’t—don’t try anything,” the officer warned him, his voice trembling.

Trevor gave him a tired look but didn’t say anything. He was too drained, physically and emotionally, to think of anything to say to him. Instead he slowly walked to the middle of the room and lay down on his side.

The floor was cold and hard. He shifted around, trying to get comfortable. He tried curling up to stay warm, but it didn’t help much. With a heavy sigh, he shut his eyes and tried to get some rest.

Sleep did not come easy. In fact, Trevor didn’t feel like he’d slept at all. The only indication that time had passed were the shifting shadows, and the fact that the figure watching him from the door seemed to have changed.

It was the pain that had woken him up. It came in waves, like it was struggling to break through the cloud of numbness that had settled over him. But soon enough, that feeling of his muscles tearing and his bones shifting that visited him every time he had one of those terrible growth spurts slowly powered through the effects of the cuffs he wore.

A cry escaped his throat. He began to tremble as the pain spread throughout his body. Hot tears welled in his eyes and spilled down his cheeks.

Why now? He wondered weakly.

He curled in tighter on himself, silently praying for something, anything that would take the pain away. He wished his mom was here. For the past week, any time he’d had a particularly bad flare-up like this, she’d been there to comfort him. It didn’t do much for the pain, but having her with him eased his mind somewhat. Now he was completely alone.

In the low light, he made eye contact with the person who stood in the doorway. He couldn’t read any sort of expression on their face. But he could see their eyes, just barely. He knew they saw him suffering.

“Help me,” he croaked. “Please.”

The person did not move. They did not speak. Instead, they stood there, arms crossed. They shook their head no, just once. The only indication that they’d heard him at all.

He squeezed his eyes shut. More tears poured forth. His shaking escalated to intermittent spasms, paired with the sound of his joints popping as they displaced and replaced themselves, over and over again.

Even though he’d been through this before, there was a part of his mind that always broke into a panic whenever it started happening again. What if this time his body couldn’t handle the stress? What if it left him injured afterwards? Or worse?

His mind eventually went white with pain. He faded into unconsciousness, unsure of what he’d come back to when he awoke. Or even if he’d wake up at all.

First/Last/Next

[anamelessfool]

12 Year Old Copia, 1988. Name his rat. (I picked Ratthias)

I want to do more domestic lore drawings, send me an ask to give me some ideas!

Plus Bonus Copia & Family Excerpt after the cut!

1986

Primo was usually in good spirits, whether tending to the Ministry gardens or to the needs of his younger brothers. There were some days, however, especially if it had rained for several days before, that the entire clergy could feel Primo’s heart fall. Primo had always been a go-getter and an upstanding member of the community since his return as an adult over a decade prior. But there was always something eating at him. Some mud that, no matter how hard he dug or clawed, would slowly sink him down into a pit of despair.

It was April, and after a long string of rainy days. Nihil’s two remaining sons and little Copia sat in the common room, winding down from an uneventful day with an equally uneventful evening. Copia observed Primo from his place coloring in a sketchbook on the carpet. Primo was lying on the couch and staring upwards, glassy eyed, a hand across his chest. Lost in thought. The darkness in his heart once again dragging him down.

Copia jogged over to Secundo who was smoking and reading at his favorite bench at the window. The boy tugged at Secundo’s sleeve, frowning and huffing.

“Use your words, Copia,” muttered Secundo.

Copia shook his head and gestured over to Primo slumped on the couch. He flapped his arms. “Can't. Ruin the surprise,” the boy whispered. “Do the thing. Come on. Please.”

Secundo glanced at his older brother and grunted, getting up from his seat. He walked over to the piano, stubbing his cigarette into the ashtray on the top. He stretched his fingers and began to play a sad, remorseful song, Beethoven’s Für Elise. The most Secundo ever moved or emoted was as he played a piece— swaying his body, hunching his shoulders, softening his eyebrows. Primo sighed as the melody dragged across the air, filling the space like a gathering raincloud. Copia shifted into position near Primo, his eyes darting over to his other brother, waiting for the cue.

At some point the tempo imperceptibly increased, the music now a different complexity… a shimmering, iconic disco tune. Copia marched out to face Primo, waving his arms, scream-singing at the top of his lungs.

“ DANCING QUEEN! YOUNG AND SWEET ONLY SEVENTEEN!” Copia twirled around on his toe landing into a comical knee bend that was only possible for youngsters. He waved his arms around, staring into Primo, pointing his finger at his adoptive brother. “ You can daaaance! You can jiii-ive! Having the time of your liiiiiife ooh-oooh-ooh!”

Primo stared at him, his eyes still tired and hollow. The corner of his mouth twitched.

“See that giiiirl! Watch that scene! DIGGING THE DANCING QUEEEEEEN!” The boy Copia wiggled his hips and nearly crabwalked across the rug.

As if tugged by a string Primo’s lips jerked into a small smile. He struggled with his face but his expression at last expanded into a full grin. Copia grinned back, jumping into his arms. “You're absolutely ridiculous—oof!” said Primo, bringing his arms around the boy. “You're getting too big to be in my lap these days.”

Copia rested his head on Primo’s shoulder, bringing his arm around him. “Nuh-uh.” He looked over to Secundo, who had relaxed Dancing Queen into a sarcastically soft piano bar improvisation.

“And how are your lessons going?” Primo asked Copia. Secundo caught his eye and stoically nodded his approval.

“Good,” said Copia. “Secundo says if you can change any sad song into Dancing Queen, you're a pretty good musician.”

Primo kissed the top of the boy’s head, patting his shoulder. “I suppose that's the right attitude.”

Copia watched his adoptive brother’s smile fade into a wistful expression, the clouds in his eyes falling away, at least for a little while.

My Fic List

@historian-crown @riptide-kid @monkberryghouldelight @in-cardi-c-we-thrust

[noahspaperairplane]

Dont mind me I'm just gonna *drops off an entire box of crackers for Noah and crabwalks away*

something’s up….

[drakeanddice]

Had a dream my brain sprouted little crab limbs and escaped from my head last. Little bastard was fast. But like, when your brain escapes you can't just like...let it. You need that. For smart-making!

I spent the the remainder of my night asking random passersby "which way went the brain-crab?" like I was Harrison Ford and wanted my family back.

Everyone was super nice and understanding in a vaguely Midwestern way. "Ope, got away from ya there, did it?" Some were helpful, but special shout out to the tired-looking forty year old guy who said, "Man I hate when that happens. Have you tried cheese?"

And like, because my brain was gone I of course thought he meant in the, yknow, more universal sense. Yes. I have tried cheese. I am overall a fan. But then he seemed to sense my misunderstanding and as much to forestall further comedic misunderstanding as to make his point, said, "hold a slice of cheese out and speak softly. Works like a charm."

And it stands to reason. I like cheese, so clearly my think-bacon would too. And sure enough, when I stopped actively trying to pounce on my crabwalking, Zoidberg scuttling brain, I managed to get it back into my head. I assume. It eclipsed my face with its mass and I woke up.

So if you feel like your brain is running away without you, give yourself a little treat and a be kind to yourself. Thanks dream-logic. We got toward sense eventually.

[omegaremix]

Omega Radio for April 15 2024 B; #374.

Sonny Rollins: "Swing Low, Sweet Chariot"'

John Ambercrombie: "Lungs"

Crusaders, The: "So Far Away"

Judy Bailey Quartet, The: "The Eleven Eight Song"

Billy Cobham: "A Funky Kind Of Thing"

Terry Callier: "Dancing Girl"

Cleveland Eaton: "Hamburg 302"

Harry Beckett: "Moondancer"

Deodato: "Crabwalk"

Freddie Hubbard: "The Surest Things Can Change"

Herbie Hancock: "Actual Proof"

Emily Remler: "Eleuthra"

Second of two same-day broadcasts; bonus crate-digging, sampling, and vinyl treasures. All tracks seven minutes and up.

[omegaradiowusb]

APRIL 15, 2024 B (#374)

Sonny Rollins: "Swing Low, Sweet Chariot" John Ambercrombie: "Lungs" Crusaders, The: "So Far Away" Judy Bailey Quartet, The: "The Eleven Eight Song" Billy Cobham: "A Funky Kind Of Thing" Terry Callier: "Dancing Girl" Cleveland Eaton: "Hamburg 302" Harry Beckett: "Moondancer" Deodato: "Crabwalk" Freddie Hubbard: "The Surest Things Can Change" Herbie Hancock: "Actual Proof" Emily Remler: "Eleuthra"

Omega Radio comes in clutch to save WUSB's continuity by filling in for Music Library Gems and airs its second show of the broadcasting day. We play an easy-going two bonus hours of jazz and fusion for discriminating samplists, crate-diggers, and vinyl treasurers alike; with no song in this set running less than seven minutes each.

April is not over yet. We still have many more deluxe Springtime sounds to go. Tune in two weeks as we air new, current, and favorite sounds and artists from everywhere. See you then.

April 29, 2024 (Midnight-3AM): deluxe Omega.

May 13, 2024 (Midnight-3AM): deluxe Omega.

May 27, 2024 (Midnight-3AM): final deluxe Spring ‘24 Omega.

[n0sewise]

can’t stop thinking about hxh x pokemon so here are my thoughts:

HxH and their pokemon types

Gon

has a Grookey that he got from Professor Wing, catches bug types like Scyther and Heracross that he thinks are adorable but no one else does, ends up with a lot of overpowered fighting types that really respect and love him, has a knack for catching amazing water types despite using an Old Rod that Ging left him, wants to become a Pokémon Master like his dad

Killua

Silva gifts him an Eevee with the intention of it becoming Umbreon or Jolteon, but it loves Killua and he spoils it with candy so it evolves into a Sylveon one day and surprises everyone, is a natural with dark/ghost types like Gengar and his family thinks it’s because he’s a dark battle prodigy with untapped strength (and he is) but it’s really because they like his sense of humour and have fun with him (can you imagine the pranks he could pull off with a Haunter?), runs away from home when the Zoldycks insist that he train his Pokémon harder and he can’t bear the idea of hurting them, finds a niche with fast electric types

Leorio

has like the world’s strongest Blissey that he raised from birth, a Charizard that doesn’t listen to him, Magikarp that will eventually become a massive Gyarados but Leorio honestly forgot that part and just has it because he felt sorry for it (he’s the only person patient enough to train a Magikarp), lots of random fairy types that he’s trained to heal other Pokémon (Kurapika is secretly really into his nurse uniform but will die before admitting it)

Kurapika

perfectly well rounded team that he meticulously planned out to cover as many weaknesses as possible, annoying to battle with because he has so many strategies and is unbearably smug about it, meets and adopts a Cubone that he carries in his arms at all times and hand feeds

Illumi

assembles a team of the most unsettling psychic, poison, and dark type Pokémon on the planet, probably has an Alakazam that teleports him everywhere because he’s just as much of a drama queen as Killua and loves to make an entrance, one of those trainers that chooses outfits to match their Pokémon team but insists it wasn’t planned

Hisoka

just weird fucking choices, incredibly difficult to fight because his team makes no sense, at least one Mr. Mime that has learned to crabwalk down the stairs for maximum creepiness, he isn’t allowed near the labs of the professors when children are choosing their starters…for obvious reasons

[sirenspells]

Mari sees Sunny in the woods and tries to tackle him.

Sunny sees her coming and prepares a spell.

Mari leaps, eyes closed, she opens them, Sunny's gone?

She looks from side to side and starts to cry, thinking she hallucinated.

Unbeknownst to Mari, Sunny dodged & illusioned himself as some grass, then crabwalked away.

JFFJFFJFJ Idk if she'd try to straight up tackle him but I think you've got the right idea! Also this is vaguelyyyy like something that happens in the story, where Mari chases after Sunny, main difference is that Sunny's in his Stranger disguise so Mari doesn't know it's actually Sunny (the context is a lot but tldr she saw "Stranger" in Sunny's dream so she's trying to go after him cause she thinks he must know something about Sunny, not knowing that Stranger literally IS Sunny)