#crossed lines

[silbrith]

summarize my wips badly

Thanks @penna-nomen for tagging me!

Stories that will soon be at the starting gate: 1. Neal and Peter dance with dinosaurs. (Caffrey Conversation series) 2. Sara gets to meet her distant aunt, Rowena MacLeod. (Crossed Lines series)

Daydreams run amok: 1. A mummy chases Irene and Kai on the moor. (Tales from the Library) 2. Hauntings at the Miskatonic Library. (new Cthulhu Mythos series) 3. Mozzie and Quark save the day. (Caffrey Conversation x Star Trek crossover)

Titles looking for a story: 1. Lady with a Hellhound (Crossed Lines series) 2. The Amber Phial (Elder Scrolls series)

open tag to anyone else who wants to join!

[seasaltandcopper]

Crossed Lines // Intro

Toying with a new idea/setting, let me know if there’s any interest in seeing more! This is just the intro and some set up to get you acquainted with the main protagonist, a half-elf mage named Shay, but the plan is to lean hard into dark fantasy (so a lot of whump, horror, action, angst, the whole kit and caboodle. I don’t have a strong direction for it yet, but if you know my Brand it’s a safe bet it’ll touch on those themes.)

Summary: Shay flees from a pack of demons, using blood-enhanced magic to veil his presence at the cost of exhausting himself.

Rating: T

Warnings: Blood, swearing

Shay dragged the dagger across the top of his forearm and crimson beaded in its wake. Wine dark drops of blood barely showed against the low contrast of dusky skin, and the cover of an even darker night. Shay grimaced at the sting. Familiar, but still unpleasant.

And unfortunately, necessary.

Mikal cautioned against over-reliance on blood magic, spent half his breath lecturing Shay about it, but even he couldn’t deny that sometimes desperate times called for desperate measures.

In the distance, the sound of the Hunt’s cries grew louder. A furious howling and chittering and the dry rasp of chitinous legs across the cobbles. Attuned to Shay’s scent, they’d chase him tirelessly until he either managed to break the connection, or they finally ran him down.

Shay sucked in a breath through his teeth, cleaned the obsidian blade hurriedly on his ragged cloak, and re-sheathed it at his belt.

Sorry, Mikal.

Raising his dominant hand, Shay let his fingers hover over the wound and extended his senses. Opened himself to the larger network of energies woven into every organic and living thing around him. Mikal called it the Weave, likened the innumerous threads of energy to a tapestry, but Shay preferred to think of it as a web.

That’s how it felt, anyhow. Perched at the center of a great spiderweb, feeling the thrum and vibration from each thread as it was plucked, his magic giving Shay the ability to tug and alter them too. Normally, blood wasn’t a requirement to work the threads. But it was a powerful catalyst, giving a lone Spinner the ability to amplify their craft threefold.

With a deft flick of his fingers, Shay pulled at the shimmering line drawn from his blood. Other threads joined it, pulled from his surroundings, tying them together, and around himself in a ward that would last until dawn. Tucked away in his makeshift bolthole, one of many in the network of safehouses scattered across the city, Shay knew he’d be safe.

Breathing heavily from the effort, Shay tugged a few more lines, weaving them into the increasingly intricate pattern caged around himself. From the ground, the walls, the boards, all stitched together with a single thread of brilliant crimson, spun from his blood.

Just a little more…

With a grunt, Shay tied off the ward as it stabilized. He severed the connection to himself, breaking the Hunt’s tether to him in the process. The sharp sting of the weaving’s backlash hit like a slap, left his ears ringing and the taste of iron and cloying bitterness in his mouth. He blinked, clearing dark spots from his vision. Panting, hand braced against the frigid, gritty cobblestones of the half-sunken cellar floor, Shay grinned.

Something screeched, a few streets over. A shrill squeal of fury and confusion. It sent a shiver down Shay’s spine, even knowing his ward would hold.

“Dare you to find me now, bastards,” Shay muttered, pushing out a quiet chuckle. Then groaned. Exhaustion slammed down on him like a giant’s club, the immediate consequence of weaving such a powerful ward. Even with the added boost of blood, he’d overdone it.

Stupid, and reckless, Shay imagined Mikal saying.

Stupid and reckless but still alive, Shay would argue.

And he would argue with his brother when he made it back home. That was as inevitable as the sun rising. Which—Shay cocked his head, peering out through a gap in one of the boards hastily tacked over the entrance to his hideout, taking in the position of the moon—was only two or three hours away, at most.

Enough time for a nap.

At this point, Shay didn’t think he had much choice in the matter. Magical exhaustion was nothing to play chicken with. Master or apprentice, it’d still knock you on your ass if you pushed yourself past your limits.

Here, though, Shay figured he was safe. He’d have to be, because he sure as hell wasn’t going anywhere else till his legs stopped feeling like jelly and he could force his eyes open longer than a breath or two at a time.

Stiffly, Shay lay down on the stone floor of the cellar, tucked his legs close and drew his dark cloak around himself like a blanket. Drying blood fanned down his arm, itching and stinging around the edges of the wound, but Shay felt too tired to do more than dab at it with the hem of his cloak. A draft crept in through the gaps in the boarded up window wells, slipped icy fingers under the crack below the trapdoor, and ruffled hair as white as moonlight, but his cloak and hood kept the worst at bay.

Discomforts aside, sleep came swiftly; for once, Shay didn’t even dream.

[doctorwhoisadhd]

oh WOW.

[cyborgrhodey]

regina spektor is a violent zionist, but i don't think it's constructive or honest at all for people to be like "well her art was always bad anyway." some terrible people have made great art. This idea that artists with unsavory morals can't make good art (1) only feeds into some people's mindset that if they dislike something, that MUST mean there is something ideologically wrong with it, and (2) some people then take longer to realize the true colors of their favorite artists because... good artists can't be ethically bad right?? and so they hang on to their faves and pretend they are so righteous and defend their every move when sometimes. sometimes you just gotta accept that your favorite art was made by somebody you don't agree with, and you have to identify how much you are willing to support someone like that and what lines you have that can't be crossed

[starry-songs-canvas]

Of Course Not(tm)

Kind of continued from this post I made a bit ago.

<><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><>

The bats are on a manhunt looking for whoever took their youngest. (Damian would not just enter an unmarked vehicle)

Nightwing, Red hood, Signal, Batgirl and Orphan all taking the streets while Batman, Red Robin and Oracle all look over the last known footage of Damian, walking stiffly with glowing red eyes. (Obvious mind-control, but why couldn’t he break out of it?)

“Uh, Batman?”

Suddenly, they get a FaceTime call invite on the Bat computer. (Batman has Bat-call, not FaceTime?!?)

“Answer, I’ll trace it.” Oracle says tersely. Red Robin hesitantly pushes the accept button.

“Ancients, you sure took your sweet time with that.” A blue-eyed clone of Damian snarks out the minute they enter the call.

“Where is Damian?” Batman growls out.

“He’s… fine. Well, fine as he can be at the moment.” The clone says, then mutters something under his breath.

“Anyways, could you come and get him? I’d drop him off, but I’m kind of busy at the moment.” He says as he’s furiously typing away at the computer.

“The signals heavily encrypted, I can’t get a read past somewhere in Illinois.” Oracle reports.

“What is the League planning.” Batman demands.

That makes the clone pause. “The League isn’t involved.”

“Then who else cloned him?” Red Robin asks.

The clone now stops what he’s doing and frowns at the camera. “Clone? No, I’m his brother.” Not seeing the reaction he wanted. “Danny? His twin? Other half of the demon twins?”

Watching their growing confused reactions he puts his head in his hands and groans.

“He didn’t mention me at all, did he? Of course not.”

[isjasz]

[Day 116]

Damn why is the camel so slow guys

(The strange familiarity)

[pearl-kite]

I made a pillow!

It took four months of non-stop cross-stitching, but I finally finished a pattern I bought from @8pxl a little bit ago, and tonight in a bizarre burst of productivity I finally sewed a back to it and stuffed it into a cute little pillow! It ended up being pretty much perfectly sized for a neck pillow, but I'm a bit worried about it getting dirty that way.

I highly recommend the patterns from 8xpl's shop, there are SO many gorgeous ones to choose from. I might end up getting another one soon o3o

[kathaynesart]

Language Before/After Kids

Sorry if the humor is a bit crass, but I've witnessed this phenomena so many times with friends who become parents that I could not help but wonder which extreme side of the line these boys fall on.

This is also a bit of a character dive. I kind of like the idea of Leo constantly censoring himself around Casey Junior, because it gives it even more oomph when he says "badass" in the beginning of the movie since it signals that he now views CJ as an adult who he respects, depends on, and can speak with frankly. No censoring needed.

[bixels]

Taking the current topic as an excuse to ask you to tell me all the reasons you love Rarijack. Your art for the ship is so sweet and intimate I'd love to hear any in depth thoughts you have.

Breathes in.

I think what makes their dynamic really strong is that they have opposing personalities but aligned values. It's deeper than just "opposites attract." Rarity's fancy, prissy, and femme while Applejack's modest, rough, and "masculine." But both value hard work (to the point of being workaholics), their families (both have guardianship over their little sisters), running successful businesses, and eventually each other. Their relationship can be boiled down to, "Despite our differences/disagreements, I still like you because we value the same things."

We see their relationship develop so much. In the first season, they can't stop bickering about surface-level differences. By season four, they still bicker, but will mend their relationship because they can't help but do nice things for each other. In Trade Ya, they start off arguing over personality differences (Applejack likes old junk and Rarity likes useless crap). Then they pivot and start arguing that they value their relationship more than the other. In the end, they mend things by sacrificing their needs and buying each other a gift. Even if they don't understand it, they know it'd make the other happy. And that's all that really matters. It's a genuinely sweet moment that shows how arguing can be healthy and necessary for relationships to strengthen.

We even see them dropping their hang-ups about each others' personalities. In Made in Manehattan, when Rarity runs off in dramatics about someone's fashion, AJ doesn't roll her eyes or scoff, she smiles. Oftentimes, their conflicts are very common domestic conflicts romantic couples face. Applejack's Day Off is about a woman's inability to balance work and life and find time to properly spend with her partner, causing her partner to feel neglected.

By season seven, they're actively participating in each others' interests. Any problems or conflicts that arise are dealt with, and they come out the other end stronger and closer. In Honest Apple, AJ pretty much spells out why their relationship works so well: even though she doesn't understand fashion, she can recognize and appreciate how much work it takes and wants to respect that. When she realizes her mistake in the episode, AJ goes above and beyond to fix things and apologize to Rarity. They care about each other so much.

The two go out of their way, sacrificing their personal desires and beliefs and doing things they normally wouldn't, to make the other happy. That's just love.

There's Simple Ways, where AJ gets stuck in an unwanted love triangle between Rarity and her hipster crush. And her frustration and anger can be so easily interpreted as AJ finding herself in a terrible position; the girl she loves wants another man, and that man wants her.

I dunno. I've always had a preference for opposites attract ships, but Rarijack's stuck with me like a brain worm because they have the perfect chemistry. The way they show they care, or do things for each other, I've always read it as the truest representation of romance in the show.

[ew-selfish-art]

Dp x Dc AU: Dani has a too many break-ups for Danny’s heart to handle as an older brother- So he gives her a criteria that her next boyfriend needs to fit for Danny to approve of their relationship. 

Dani was really excited about her new boyfriend. He was witty, and charming, knew how to sword fight and was absolutely stunning. He loved his family, was passionate about animals and social justice causes, and he was an artist! She had a thing for green eyes, and hey, he was actually super chill about them having flexible schedules to see each other (she had vigilante shit to do that she couldn’t explain)! It’s been going on for a few months and she’s honestly ready for him to meet Danny & Jazz but... 

The last time she was home it was for a broken heart and Danny was beside himself with worry over her. He made the guys recently deceased ancestors come forward to speak on his behalf and it was Mortifying- Danny was ready to throw down. And Dani had to admit, it was super sweet that her big brother cared so much. He’d happily given a shovel talk to each of her partners when she brought them home and he’d happily tried to bond with them and integrate into their lives. Danny always allowed her to make mistakes but respected her choices to only ever ask two questions when a new partner came into the picture: Do they make you happy? Do they treat you well? 

This last time he made a simple request, just could they please fit this one criteria? 

The thought comes to her unfortunately when she’s making out with her perfect match, her soul mate, this beautifully stabby man Damian Wayne, that she should bring up the deal breaker. Her brother gave her literally one request for her next partner, and by the ancients she didn’t want to disappoint Danny. 

Pulling away from her boyfriends kiss for just a moment, Dani quickly asks “Sorry, Sorry, it’s just...Have you ever died before?” 

Damian’s look of confusion and then concern grew on his normally collected face, which told her more than enough. 

“Okay great!” And she leaned back in, only to realize that he’s pulled back. 

“Would... Would you care to explain why you just asked me that?” Damian was doing his best to not jump to conclusions.

“Sorry, I just got in my head a bit about how you’re like, the light of my life and I want you to meet my family and then my brain wandered, before you did that thing with your teeth, to the fact that my brother kind of requested... um, well, he just asked that my next partner be, uh, don’t freak out if this sounds weird, but uh, be dead.” 

“He...He wants your partner to be dead.” 

“Well, Dead adjacent is perfectly normal in my family! It’s not like a whole thing! You’ve died before, so he’ll absolutely love you! And he’ll love you even more because you love me!” She smiles as brilliantly as the stars.

Damian isn’t sure for a second, but eventually asks: “Your family is ‘dead adjacent’ and you want me to meet them?” to which she happily confirms. 

“Do you... Wish to know how I-” Damian begins but she cuts him off “No! Never, I would never ask that of you. He won’t ask either! He actually has a better vision for these things so it probably won’t even come up! How does next Tuesday work?” 

“That should be fine, however, well...On the subject of family expectations ... Is it even possible that you might be a vigilante?” Damian’s worries melt away when his girlfriend smiles and lunges forward to kiss him. 

Families could have such weird expectations, you know? 

[seasaltandcopper]

BroKEN GLAss

Series: Crossed Lines

Rating: T

Warnings: Blood, glass removal

“How did this happen?”

Fidgeting under his brother’s harsh gaze, Shay glanced to the side, focusing on the cluster of small cups circled neatly around the teapot on the table. Steam rose from the glazed, earthen pot and one of the cups nearest Mikal, filling the room with a familiar, grassy smell.

“Shay.” A note of warning crept into Mikal’s tone. Shay winced. “Should I plan for a long walk this evening, or did you cover your tracks properly this time?”

Careful to keep his back and shoulders from touching the chair, Shay gave a terse shake of his head. It never failed to amaze how just a handful of words from Mikal could make Shay feel so much like a chastised child. Likely had something to do with the fact that he was nearly always right.

“It was just a couple of drunks at the tavern. I handled it.” Lips pressing into a thin line, Shay pushed down some of the frustration and the budding shame of needing Mikal’s help yet again. The pain radiating out from his shoulders and upper back wasn’t doing much for Shay’s mood, either. The wounds itched where blood dried and the material of his tunic stuck to the clots, and every shift of posture brought new discomfort.

“‘Handled it’,” Mikal echoed, with just the right dose of doubt and reproach to have Shay glowering at the little cluster of cups. “Looks more like you rolled around in it on a filthy tavern floor.”

With a sigh, Mikal rose, one hand sliding his untouched cup of tea over to Shay and circled around behind his brother to better inspect his wounds. “Here. Have some tea, it’ll help.”

Mikal’s solution to most things was tea. Feeling ill? Have some tea to soothe a cough or calm your stomach. Upset? Holding a warm mug will help you relax. Injured? If the stomach-turning combination of medicinal herbs in the drink itself doesn’t ease the pain, the distraction of having something to sip is better than nothing.

Shay grimaced. “I’ll pass.”

“Hm.”

Repositioning in his seat to give Mikal better access, then bracing his forearms against the tabletop, Shay hissed. “Don’t ‘hm’ at me.”

“Then drink your tea.”

Shay pointedly did not.

Without missing a beat, Mikal helped Shay out of his cloak. For all his nagging and sternness, Mikal was never cruel, and his touch was one of practiced ease—neither rough, nor shrinking from what needed to be done. In all likelihood, he’d decided that whatever injuries Shay had sustained from the fight itself were punishment enough.

With the dark, roughspun material of the cloak out of the way (set aside on the next chair, neatly draped over the back for the inevitable wash and stitching it’d need later), the damage to Shay’s back became more obvious. The light colored tunic he wore beneath showed the bloodstains in vibrant splotches of red. Bits of glass poked through the tears, their positions too awkward for Shay to remove himself.

A brief assessment later, and Mikal swept out of the room to retrieve his tools. The sound of rustling and clinking followed. Mikal returned swiftly, armed with a well-worn leather kit of implements, a pan of water, and a stack of clean rags.

Not needing the direction after a lifetime of Mikal playing nursemaid, Shay stood stiffly, turned his chair around to straddle it wrong-ways, and braced against the table again.

A sense of uneasy anticipation sank in Shay’s gut, but he only nodded when Mikal informed him the shirt was a loss. The sound of slicing cloth followed. Gentle tugs, and a rogue’s nimble fingers lifted the fabric, careful not to snag it on the shards of glass still lodged in Shay’s back. Even the most careful hands could do little about where it had already stuck to the drying blood however, and Shay winced each time the fabric pulled free.

Once the soiled cloth was discarded, Mikal cleaned away the excess blood, hummed again, and reached for a pair of forceps.

“Glass next,” Mikal informed, and Shay grimaced at the object his brother set on the tabletop in front of him. A short length of leather-wrapped wood, about as thick around as Shay’s thumb.

Swallowing a sigh, Shay wedged the bit between his teeth. Nodded.

Mikal worked quickly, sparing Shay’s dignity enough to at least pretend he didn’t hear the sounds that managed to escape past the stick. Piece by piece, bloody shards dropped onto a cloth laid out across the table. Each one left Shay’s skin with a stinging bite and the trickle of fresh blood.

And what felt an eternity later, Mikal let out a satisfied, “Hm,” and set the forceps down beside the pile of extracted glass. “Done.” Gently, he dabbed a rag across Shay’s bloody back one last time, then tossed that aside too.

Shay pushed out a breath through his nose, hands clenched atop the table to keep them from trembling. Sweat beaded at his brow and stung horribly where it touched his wounds, but at least it was almost over.

The perks of living in a house of Spinners.

Normally, Shay would do it himself. But exhausted as he was, and with no good way to see what he was doing, leaving the mending to Mikal was a matter of necessity.

Turned away, Shay didn’t see his brother reach for the Lines, but he felt it. The sudden warmth that hit his mangled back, like a latticework of sunlight, sinking into him. Deep, deeper than his bones, entwining with his own essence and urging skin to knit and heal.

It itched, as Mikal literally pulled strings to trick Shay’s body into days or weeks worth of healing in a matter of minutes. When he finished, the pain was nearly gone, leaving only tender, pink scars where the cuts sealed.

Cautiously, Shay rolled his shoulders. Nodded in approval and relief as the action brought only a twinge of discomfort.

“There,” Mikal said, a note of strain in his voice that hadn’t been there before. He tapped Shay twice on the shoulder and fixed him with a knowing look. “Now drink your tea. It’s getting cold.”

This time, Shay didn’t argue.

From the whump/hurt ask prompts list -- still taking these if anyone wants to send one in

[doctorwhoisadhd]

again stranded 3 spoilers

hello. what the fuck. not my boy. i mean i know hes going to be fine because ive listened to thirst trap and that came out like 2 years after this but like. Hello.

[descendinight]

Vivienne - studies for #magemonday by @artofrezaafshar

[puppetmaster13u]

Prompt 74

When a new black-haired blue-eyed person appeared in the manor, one could easily be forgiven for thinking that Bruce’s adoption problem had struck again. So color many a batkid surprised that no, this kid isn’t a new sibling, no he didn’t get grabbed from the street, and actually he’s here for Alfred. Apparently Alfred never found it important to mentioned that he has a husband- that the kid kind of implies isn’t human what with the casual way he says he himself is half human- and that this kid is apparently their child. For once it’s Bruce’s turn to come home to a surprise sibling. 

Danny on the other hand just learned that his Clockpa has a semi-mortal partner who has offered to take him in, (in another dimension even! And there’s aliens!!) while the ancient takes care of some stuff at home. And yeah it’s in a rich-manor but Sam has proved that not all rich people are evil, and based off of Mr Pennyworth’s stories the Waynes weren’t bad either. Though based off of the others’ reactions perhaps he should wait to mention that there wasn’t one new family member but three…

[deadandphilgames]

i am in awe of dnps ability to not only never cross the line of an outright confirmation of their relationship status, but then pick up said line, move it further along and not cross it again