#haha this is shit but i'm posting it anyway

[whiteraven90]

I'm glad you guys enjoy the animation! I'm not sure I can reply to everyone, people have a lot to say about it, haha. My activity log is also mostly filled with rows upon rows of variations on the phrase "HOLY SHIT" in the tags. And it's still going… Thank you for that! XD

Not sure if I posted this WIP yet but here it is anyway! The characters in the animation are these two. A shapeshifter couple. Griffin is the one posing as a guy with a spear and Phoenix is the one posing as a gryphon lady. He loves hard fights, and she doesn't like fighting at all, so the fight might be something like a gift to him from her. Know that whether you're rooting for the monkey with the stick, or the flying meathook t-rex, you're rooting for the griffin. It's all rigged. This is not a democracy. >:D

[detectivebambam]

hey btw Wymack recruiting people no one else bothers to look at also means recruiting the two incredibly good players who are considered "too short".

fyi.

YOU CAN ONLY PUT 30 TAGS???

[greenglowsgold]

The List.

Based on the Cass Apocalyptic Series.

The first part of this has been rumbling around in my brain ever since that Super Sad Scene a month ago, but yesterday’s update gave me the other side of the coin, so to speak, and finally pulled it all together.

@somerandomdudelmao thanks for the fuel, friend

                              -----

                              Donatello’s days have become a series of checklists, as of late.

No, that’s not exactly true. His days have always been about lists: what he’s done, what he can delegate to someone else, what still needs doing. But these days he’s been doing less and listing more, piling tasks from the first category onto the second as fast as he can manage, hoping he has enough time to empty the queue.

The full catalog is written out in a series of files, reorganized for accessibility to the layperson and meticulously up-to-date as of yesterday. He meant to run through it again this morning, ensure all the relevant instruction manuals were attached to each item and double check his protocols, but he wasn’t… he couldn’t…

He’s going to die tonight.

It irritates him, his own miscalculation of the timing more than the stark presence of his oncoming demise. The latter has been inevitable for quite some time, long enough that he’s gotten used to the idea. But he thought he had another week or two, and he doesn’t like being proven wrong. He wonders if his brothers know.

Probably not. They know it’s bad now, obviously, because they’ve piled him with pillows and blankets and surrounded him on all sides, and Leo has finally gone quiet. But they trust him, they’ve always trusted him, even when they shouldn’t, so if he swears he’ll last a few more days, they’ll believe him. He thinks. He’s pretty sure. If they knew it was tonight, he doubts they would choose to sleep through it. Donnie thinks about waking them up, but only for a moment. He’d like to say it’s a noble act, to leave them in peace a little bit longer, but the truth is he’s just too fucking tired to move.

There’s something settled bone-deep in his chest, a heaviness that sits on him like a stone, a peine forte et dure pressing him down and down, stopping his voice and his breath and his heart. He wonders if this is what dying usually feels like, or if it’s unique to the Kraang. Raph would know.

He cranes his neck to the right, to catch Raph’s face out of the corner of his eye. Raph’s working eye is half-open, staring down at the floor. Donnie could ask him. (He won’t. Let him fall asleep.) The movement of his head is so slight it doesn’t even catch Raph’s attention. He’s too tired for anything more. He’s so goddamn tired.

His lists are out of reach at the moment, with his physical interfaces back in the lab and his ninpo locked behind a wall of oh-god-it-sounds-too-exhausting-to-even-try, but he memorized them all long ago.

Raphael: Maintenance (delegated to Casey, who has it well in hand). Plans (tucked away in a dedicated folder, long term, but someday they’ll have the materials, and Raph will have a proper body again, someday). Honey (yes, he passed that along last week).

Raph has access to the tracking programs, so he can keep an eye on everyone himself, even when Donnie can’t pull up locations or vitals for him anymore. He has his own space in the base once more, somewhere to close a door when he needs to (he insists he doesn’t, but Donnie isn’t a fool). He has more excuses to spend time with Casey, who’s taking over his upkeep. Donnie hopes it fills in some gaps for both of them.

He runs through the list, double checks each item. It’s his last chance to make sure he hasn’t forgotten anything important.

He looks down, finds Mikey.

There’s a stockpile of the anti-aging serum in his safe, the formula in his database, plans for the permanent solution clearly labeled. As long as they have his lab, his systems, Mikey will be as young as his years. He’s walked him through the greenhouse, even if most of it is controlled by the computer system. Mikey misses the world being green; it’ll do him good to spend more time around the plants. He has his tea, his candles. He has Draxum, who by now should have received a — mildly — threatening message warning him not to pull any disappearing acts anytime soon. He has their ancestors, just a short call away.

Donnie’s sure Mikey will call on him soon. He doesn’t plan to stray far.

Up a bit. To the left. Leo.

The arm — Leo knows how to take care of it, as does Casey.

The passwords — reset, something even Leo will be able to remember without resorting to blackmail.

The schedule — reshuffled for the next few days, he’ll have a hard enough time sleeping as it is.

The photos — everything they have, even the embarrassing ones. He even managed a couple of prints, and one precious shot from their pre-apocalypse days, something for Leo to tuck into a pouch and carry with him, when they’re not around.

Raph, Mikey, Leo. He doesn’t think he’s missed anything. Donnie lets his head fall back, too exhausted to hold it up any longer.

Is it enough?

His mind stretches further out. He’s unraveling.

What about April? Her prescription is up to date, they just checked a month ago. She has the latest in his combat tech, which has kept her safe in the field this long, so he has no reason to think it will falter now. He’s leaving her a few extra pieces, since he won’t be able to use them anymore. Leo will find the time for a movie night once in a while, he’s certain, even if his taste in Jupiter Jim movies is horrendous. They still have coffee; he’d die before he let that particular supply run out. He will, actually.

Casey. Fuck, Donnie’s gonna miss his birthday. But he did plan for this, his protocols will kick in. The mask is finished, everything is in place. He’s reconfigured his workstations, fit them for a tiny human instead of a seven-foot turtle. Casey has a better head for mechanics than any of his brothers ever did. Kid likes to be useful, so Donnie’s left him as much use as he can. He’s taught him everything Casey can learn and left instructions for more, when he’s a little older and wiser. His family will take care of him, they’ll make sure he gets there.

The base. It has to hold, to give them somewhere safe. The infrastructure is sound, and they have people to manage repair work. Supplies are decent, the most critical items in stock, everything that can be made renewable is. Their allies — Leo handles interpersonal issues and leadership, but Donnie’s checked the list with a pragmatist’s eye, left notes and rankings for priority. Security is the largest concern, but he’s spent nearly half his time with his assistants since his self-diagnosis (he could have spent it with his family), running them through the programs and adjustments, trying to bring them up to somewhere in the realm of his own expertise (a fool’s errand, but still). They’ve been rigorously instructed, they understand that the little things like sleep are secondary concerns. It has to hold.

Is it enough? For them to be okay?

He’s done everything he can. He can’t do any more. So it has to be enough.

Donnie blinks, and for a moment isn’t certain his eyes will open again at the end of it. But they do. At least one more time, they obey him.

Raph. Mikey. Leo. April. Casey. Home. He rolls back through the list. It’s his last chance. He can’t miss anything.

Mikey’s hand tightens unconsciously around his wrist, fingers meeting easily on either side. Donnie feels only the echo of the pressure.

Raph. Mikey. Leo. April. Casey. Home.

Something bright sparks at the edges of his vision before it fades. The last gasps of a dying brain, he supposes. Synapses firing one last time before they’re snuffed out.

Raph.

Mikey.

Leo.

                                                            April.

                                                                                                                        Casey.

                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                   Home.

                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                    Light.

                                                                                                                         There’s light.

                                                            It hurts.

                                                            He thought dying would stop the pain, but it’s risen to a fever pitch instead. His brother’s arms are gone, but the disease wraps around him in their place, consumes him. It rages like a wildfire, burning through his center until pieces start to flake away like ash.

Oh, this is what it does, what it was built for. The Kraang could have killed him in a lot of different ways. He’d wondered why they chose this one.

He hasn’t planned for it. This is something he didn’t even know to fear.

It’s bright and it hurts but it’s quiet as he crumbles, folds in on himself like a black hole in the utter silence of outer space. It’s quiet enough that the voice that breaks through does so clear as a bell.

His head turns to follow the sound, instinct. He’s lost half his field of vision, but what’s left is enough. He looks, and finds Casey.

Casey looks at him, at him, not the body. Donnie opens his mouth to ask a question — What are you doing here? How? Why? — but something else sloughs out instead. Not blood. He doesn’t have that anymore.

Casey calls his name once more and starts running.

Donnie’s questions fold back into his mind. His mouth clicks shut, he swallows back the putrid rot and pushes himself up. His arms are shattered but they’ll have to hold him. They have to. Because Casey is here and he needs something, which means Donnie missed something, which means he isn’t done.

His spirit disagrees with him, doesn’t see the logic. His arms don’t hold.

Casey reaches to catch him as he falls, and the touch ruptures him instead. He scatters. Into the air and the ground and Casey. For a moment, he’s just pieces, fumbling around and latching onto anything that welcomes them, and Casey does that. They flow into him. They’re him. They’re…

He’s…

Casey, he’s…

Donatello pulls himself back together. Most of himself, anyway. The infection hasn’t followed him but the damage persists. He’s run through with cracks and crevices, shaking bits away into infinity with every movement. But there’s more of him here than not.

Unexpectedly, Donnie is not gone. He’s still dead, but that’s fine, he planned for that one.

                                                                                                                         Casey has him now. He wraps himself around Donnie in layers, helps hold him together with a kind of sheer will that makes up for any lack of mystic knowledge in spades. Casey asks him to stay, and Donnie takes up the task like Sisyphus sizing up the hill. This time, this time I’ll do it right.

Even better, Casey has taken him to another time, one where all of Donnie’s long-term plans are now completely-fucking-reasonable plans. Casey’s going to fix it, so Donnie can fix everything else. Whatever else needs it. He hasn’t really asked. And he knows he’s missed something, but he doesn’t think too hard about what, not yet.

First thing’s first: he needs a body.

It’s so simple to accomplish that it seems like the universe is mocking him. Just a quick 1-2-3, ticking off the list. It feels almost stupid, like running back through the early levels of a video game after unlocking all the ultimate weapons and burning through enemies and obstacles, laughing, shit, did I used to think this was hard?

In no time at all, his own face has formed in front of him.

In no time at all, he’s gasping.

It’s only been a few hours since he last breathed air, but he’s missed it.

Another thing he’s missed? Functional musculature. Casey slams into him and Donnie is startled to find that it doesn’t knock him over. His arms and legs look like actual limbs again, not fragile little sticks disguising themselves as such. He stands, dragging Casey along without a second thought. The weight barely registers. It’s amazing.

The power trip is heady, but it only lasts a few minutes before reality kicks it in the ass and pulls him back down to earth.

We lost, Casey says.

They’re dead, Casey says.

It wasn’t enough, Casey does not say, but Donnie hears it just as clearly.

All those plans, the preparations, the precautions and protocols, they only borrowed a year or two before they fell apart. He sees the timeline spiral out before him, tighter and tighter until it collapses in on itself, rendered all the more insignificant from his own point of perception. He was alive yesterday. His family is dead today.

Everything he did, it wasn’t enough. Of course it wasn’t. He was stupid to think otherwise.

(Raph. Mikey. Leo. April. Casey. Casey’s still here. It was enough for him, at least.)

It cuts at him a little, to have been so wrong. But he’s strong again, now. He can take the wound. More importantly, he has another chance to get it right.

Donnie breathes. His chest expands smoothly, easily. The air doesn’t rattle in his lungs. He’s alive, he’s a genius, he can fix anything.

He pulls up a list.

[splickedylit]

You can't fight the role the Mother had in store for you

[ruegarding]

we do not have five entire books full of percy's philosophical thoughts for rick to pull this shit. if annabeth was in character, she would be looking at this architecture and consider what she'd do different (and since she's redesigning olympus, she'd maybe also consider if she'd use any designs there). her fatal flaw is hubris and it should be a staple characteristic of hers.

[hailsatanacab]

For the prompt ask game!

9. Sleep deprivation and/or 37. Secret Relationship and/or 40. Identity reveal/major secret reveal

(I selected a few so you can chose the one that resonates the most.)

For any DPxDC characters. <3

*emerges from a google docs, covered in blood and panting* i did it... it is done.

thank you for the prompt!! because i love a challenge, or because i can't stop myself, i went and did all of them!! for everyone!! everyone is sleep deprived and everyone is revealing secrets ^^'

Danny/Tim, mentioned Jazz/Jason

(๑•́ ₃ •̀๑) enjoy!! prompt ask game

kid napping

“Red Robin, sound off. Status?”

“All good here, Oracle. Everything okay?”

It’s been a slow night, never a good sign. Pent up energy itches under his skin and he stretches when he stands, preparing for whatever Oracle is going to throw his way. It’s going to be something, he can tell.

“Good.” Relief briefly colours her voice answers, before she becomes serious again, keys clacking away in the background. “There’s been a report from Agent A. It appears that one Timothy Drake has been kidnapped and is being ransomed for five million dollars and a helicopter. I’m tracing the call now.”

“A helicopter, too? Kidnappers these days, used to be they just wanted their money and that would be the end of it… a fucking helicopter, wow.” Red Hood scoffs, and Red Robin can’t help but join in the laughter over the comms.

“Doesn’t exactly sound like these are the brightest tools in the shed now, does it, Hood? Wonder what poor schmuck they’ve got instead.” Nightwing says, slightly out of breath. 

The smile slips off Red Robin’s face and clammy, cold dread shivers down his spine. A stone settles in his stomach. He wets his lips and clears his throat. “Oracle, can you pull up the CCTV on my apartment near WE? Any closer to tracing the call?”

“Still on the trace, they’re using a jammer. Agent A is cooperating so they should phone back soon, which will help.” she reports, falling into silence as he finds the video feed.

“You know who it is?”

“I hope not.”

It’s tense, he taps his feet on the rooftop, fingers tightening over his grapple as he fights the urge to fly off the roof and check for himself. It better not be him. Please, dear God, don’t let it not be him.

“What are you thinking, Red Robin?” Batman growls through the comms. Red Robin can hear the wind under his words, whipping fast as he no doubt makes his way over to his position.

“I had a, uh, a friend coming over tonight. From behind, he… he could be mistaken for Tim Drake.”

The jokes fall silent, the comms growing serious as they pick up on his tone.

“Well, fuck.” 

“Eloquent as always, Hood.”

“Shut up, bat-brat.”

“You were right, Red Robin, it looks like it was your… friend they caught, instead. About two hours before the call came in. I’m following their van now, I should have the destination soon. In the meantime, it looks like they’re heading towards the docks.”

Red Robin throws himself off the building, shooting his grapple as low as he dares to get the fastest swing he can. 

They have Danny. 

Worry gnaws at his gut even as gravity pulls it into his throat with another swing.

Danny is… And Red Robin means this in the nicest way possible, but Danny is fragile. They haven’t talked about it, but RR knows that Danny has health problems. Something plaguing him since he was young, that’s landed him in the hospital more than once. A weak heart, far too slow to be normal, possibly chronic fatigue—he’s always so tired, falling asleep anywhere he can.

Sometimes, he doesn’t even need to put his head down. Once, when they had gone to the corner store to get some popcorn to enjoy their movie (which Danny had explicitly and repeatedly promised he wouldn’t snore through this time), Danny had rested his head on Tim’s shoulder while they were waiting and he’d just… gone. On his feet, asleep, just like that.

He’d laughed, when Tim woke him up. Apologised. Said Tim made him feel safe enough to fall asleep just about anywhere and—

Red Robin grits his teeth and corrects his course as Oracle updates them with more precise coordinates.

Tim had carried him home that night, piggy-back for four blocks, but by the end of it, he wasn’t tired at all. And that’s another thing, Danny’s just so light. It’s concerning.

They never did watch that movie, but it’s a night that Tim can’t help remembering fondly all the same. They’d ended up rewatching some old sitcom that Danny’s seen countless times but Tim’s never really bothered with, Danny drifting off to sleep again and Tim eventually following him, because… sleep is easy with Danny.

It’s the same for him, he thinks. He can’t explain it, but he feels safe enough to sleep with Danny, too.

He needs to be alright.

“So… Is this friend just a friend? Or a friend friend?” 

“A friend, Nightwing. Now hurry up.”

He’s not in the mood to play these games, not now. There’s a reason why none of them know about Danny, and this is one of them. His family, as much as he loves them, are just too damn nosey for their own good.

“You know that doesn’t answer my question at all.”

“Then why don’t you ask something intelligible, rather than continue with your childish antics?” Robin snarks, and for once, Red Robin has to agree with him. Or, rather, he’s grateful for the distraction that it gives him.

Tim has secrets. He’s sure that Danny does, too, and so far—aside from the standard background check he always runs on new friends and friend friends alike—he’s done very well to respect them. He just can’t say that his family would do the same.

They can be overwhelming, to say the least, and Tim has tried his best to protect Danny from that.

Only to fail to protect him in every other way that it counts.

“How long have you guys been ‘friends’?”

“Nightwing, save it, please.”

“What’s his name?”

He ignores him.

Red Robin lands on the building first, thank goodness. He wastes no time in finding a skylight that can be pried open fairly quietly, slipping inside without a second thought.

“Wait for backup, Red Robin, that is an order!” Batman says, when he lets them know he’s in.

“Negative, Batman. I’m getting him back.”

“Red Robin!”

He weaves silently through the desks on the second floor of the warehouse, always moving, always keeping a trained eye on the shadows around him.

When he reaches the stairs, he hears voices.

“Looks like three of them, armed. The-the hostage is tied to a chair in the middle of the room, he…” Red Robin takes a steadying breath. The person has a burlap sack over their head is slumped to the side, from where he is, Red Robin can’t see if his chest is moving. There’s blood on the floor. “He needs medical assistance. Another two on the northside entrance.”

The comms explode in admonitions, everyone pleading with him to stay where he is, to wait for help, but fuck that. With a tap, he switches them off and he can finally, just about make out the words of the kidnappers as he creeps down the first few steps.

“—shouldn’t he have woken up by now?”

“I don’t know, man, you’re the one that hit him! Do you think he’s—”

“No! I didn’t even hit him that hard, I swear!” the man cries, holding his hands up in surrender. “I just couldn’t take any more of his stupid jokes!”

If there was any doubt in Red Robin’s mind that they picked up Danny by mistake, it’s gone now. Yeah. If you get Danny, you get his stupid jokes, too.

He creeps closer. 

There’s some storage crates between him and Danny, if he can get behind there without being seen then that leaves him in a good position for when whoever’s next in takes out the guys at the front. He can’t do anything without them gone first, not without risking them taking shots inside and endangering Danny.

The man that hit Danny circles round behind him and grabs at his hands.

“What are you even doing, Pat? Who gives a shit, leave him alone.”

“I’m just checking! I just gotta see!”

“Fuck’s sake, guys, who cares? We just gotta get our money, that’s it—”

“And our helicopter!”

“And our—”

“Shit, I can’t find a pulse! Shit, Frank, I killed him, I—”

Jason told him once that when the Pits overtook him, he used to see green. Instead of blacking out, he’d be swimming in that putrid Lazarus colour and he’d slip into that rage and bad things would happen.

He’s heard of people seeing red, too, but really, he thinks that’s more of a literary device.

Tim doesn’t see anything aside from his targets.

A barrage of birdarangs take the guns from the guys at the front, the three around Danny startling badly enough that the guy that kil—that’s behind Danny—stumbles, losing his footing.

Only one of them shoots.

Amateurs. 

There’s a round of curses on the comms as the shots come through. Oracle must have turned them back on.

“Fucking hell—Nightwing and I are at the front, Red Robin, don’t worry about them.”

Red Robin’s barely listening.

He spins, kicking the largest guy in the stomach hard enough so that he doubles over, wheezing. Following through the movement, another kick lands on the side of his head and he’s down. 

The second one, Frank, gets his wits about him and raises his gun, spraying wildly. He’s a shit shot, going wide in panic, and Red Robin simply ducks and rushes forward, keeping low. Tackling the guy, he grabs the gun off of him and uses it to smash him across the face, once, twice, three times, before he stops moving.

“Oracle, get police and paramedics on scene, now.” Batman says, the displeasure in his voice evident. “Red Robin, Robin and I are coming in from the top.”

Pat hasn’t even made it up off the floor yet, scrambling backwards, fear plain on his face. 

Red Robin stands, breathing heavily, gun still in hand.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I swear I didn’t mean to do it! Please—please, don’t, please!”

Red Robin doesn’t kill.

Well, no, Red Robin doesn’t normally kill.

No, that’s not quite right, either.

Red Robin has killed. Red Robin will more than likely kill again. Red Robin sees no problem with killing.

The gun is up, pointing towards the guy without any real thought about it.

Footsteps rush behind him, the familiar heavy footfalls of Batman and Robin, so he doesn’t bother turning around. The gun follows the guy as he keeps pulling himself backwards, snot and tears mingling down his face.

“Red Robin,” Batman says, softly.

It’s always weird hearing Batman’s voice like that. It’s not the first time, obviously—Batman can’t use his scary intimidating voice on victims or children, after all—but having it used on him is weird. 

“Breathe.”

“He’s dead. They killed him.”

If hearing Batman’s voice was weird, Red Robin can’t even recognise his own.

Distantly, he realises he’s dissociating. There’s a tightness in his chest, it’s hard to breathe, a growing buzz drowns out any noise in his ears and he can’t think, he can’t—

A heavy hand squeezes his shoulder, jolting him out of his thoughts. Batman reaches around and gently removes the gun from his grip, and Tim feels the instant loss of it. He should have done it, why hadn’t he done it?

Robin takes care of the last man, his crying cut off by a swift kick to the head. Nightwing and Red Hood join them, zip-tying the men on the floor and starting to drag them back to the entrance of the warehouse one by one.

No one says a word.

Shrugging off Batman’s hand, Tim moves towards the chair.

Shaking, he takes a deep breath and removes the sack. The small part of him that was left hoping it wasn’t him, it couldn’t be him, please dear God let it not be him, shatters.

Even dead, he looks peaceful.

Tim’s seen death. He’s no stranger to it, he’s seen what it can do to a person. There’s some blood coagulating over his eyebrows, but otherwise, he looks peaceful. Is that comforting? That he didn’t suffer?

Danny’s head lolls to the side as the sack comes completely away, his hair flopping over his eyes. Tim’s been on at him to get a haircut lately, he thinks it’ll be nice tidied up a bit, just on the sides. It’ll get rid of that permanent bedhead. Help him with job interviews, he’s got to be thinking about that now that he’s in his last year of college.

It’s about the only thing that’ll hold him back, Tim thinks. Danny’s brilliant. Any employer would be a fool to turn him down because of his shaggy hair, but employers are stupid so it makes sense to put your best foot forward and—

Tim falls to his knees.

Fuck.

He’s dead, he’s really—Danny’s skin is horribly pale, cold to the touch. Gone is his bright, cheerful smile. 

“Danny, I’m sorry, I’m so, so sorry, I—” 

He stops himself with a deep, shuddering breath. He can’t break down here, he can’t, he can’t, he can’t.

Instead, he tips forward to rest his head in Danny’s lap, arms curling around himself. They were too late. They got here as fast as they could and they were too late.

 “Danny, I’m so sorry…” he whispers. “I… I love you, I love you, I’m sorry.”

Dimly, he can feel the others standing around them. Someone crouches down beside him, resting a comforting arm over his back, but he doesn’t turn his head to see who it is. He squeezes his grip on Danny’s legs tighter.

“Come on, baby bird. Let’s—”

They’re interrupted by a huge, honking snore as Danny jerks himself awake.

Tim’s head snaps up, staring at Danny with wide eyes.

“You were asleep?” Red Robin springs up, several different emotions rapidly flip flopping through him.

“Wha… What?” Danny heaves a yawn, blinking blearily down at him. “Sorry, I’m just… they were shit kidnappers, man, really boring. Honestly, worst abduction yet.”

“You were asleep? I thought you were dead!”

“Not mutually exlusive, you know.” Danny says through another yawn. He rolls his neck around with an almighty crack and glances at everyone. “Didn’t think I’d warrant the whole Bat brigade, though…”

“The kidnappers thought they had Tim Drake.” Batman supplies, while Red Robin tries to work through the emotional whiplash.

“Ah, makes sense… wait.” Danny sits up suddenly, squinting at Red Robin. “Did you say you loved me?”

“No, of course not, why would I—”

“Tim? Is that—are you—are you Red Robin?”

“Everyone, hold the fuck up!” Red Hood shouts from the other side of the warehouse, having finished securing the perps to a streetlight outside. “Double R is dating Danny fucking Nightingale?”

Well, there goes his identity… Oh, who’s he kidding, Danny’s smart. There’s no way he could have salvaged that. This was not how he thought the night was going to go.

“Cranberry, is that you?” Danny twists in his chair, somehow delighted to see Red Hood rescuing him, too. “I thought I smelled you lurking about!”

“Shut it, you little shit. Since when were you dating this dweeb?”

“I’m sorry,” Red Robin pleads, hands in the air to try and slow down the onslaught of information and insults, “you two know each other?”

“Cranberry?” Nightwing echoes, looking as lost as Red Robin feels.

“Yeah, Cranberry—The Cranberries—zombie, zombie, zombie-ie-ie. Obviously. Also he’s wearing a big, fuck off red helmet.”

“Yeah, sure, makes sense.”

It’s about the only thing that does.

“And please don’t call my boyfriend a dweeb, Cranberry. Especially when he just said he loves me for the first time.”

“He only said it because he thought you were dead.”

“I am dead, so it counts.”

“Only half, so I’d say that puts you at a solid ‘like’. Tim’s—and savour this, Tim, because I’m only going to say it once—Tim’s intelligent, so I’m sure he’ll come to his senses soon.”

Danny just throws Red Hood such a shit-eating grin. A level of feral that Tim’s only seen before in Damian. 

“That’s what I used to say about Jazz, too.”

Hood scoffs in offence, and to be honest, Tim’s not sure where he should go from here. What the hell is happening, how do they know each other?

“Come on, is anyone going to untie me or am I really meeting your family mafia-style?”

“Do it yourself, Slimer.” Red Hood laughs, crossing his arms.

“Ugh, you suck so much. I’ll fucking slime you, just you wait. Can’t believe Jazz even likes you, I preferred it when she was dating Johnny.”

And then, without Danny doing anything other than muttering obscenities at Red Hood, the ropes fall to the ground. In one swift motion, Danny stands up and stretches himself to his full height of 5’6.

“All of you need to explain, now.” commands Batman, and honestly, Red Robin’s very much on his side of it.

“I can’t believe it… Jason and Timmy are both in secret relationships? That’s… How come no one told me?” Poor Nightwing sounds the most shocked out of all of them. He turns to Damian and clasps onto both of his shoulders. “You’re not secretly dating, are you, D? Please tell me you’re not, please tell me you’re single, please?”

Of course, Robin just clicks his tongue and pushes his hands away. Really, Red Robin doesn’t think that Nightwing’s in any danger of that happening, he’d be surprised if anyone could stand Robin enough to actually date him.

He shakes his head and turns to Danny, who’s staring right back at him, worry clear on his face.

Fuck, he... He's alive. He's really alive.

Tim pulls him into a bone-crushing hug, fingers buried deep in his NASA shirt. Tucking his face into the crook of Danny's shoulder, he laughs wetly with the joy of it. He's alive. He hasn't lost him. He's safe.

“I’m sorry I haven’t told you before now, starshine, but…” Danny breaks the hug and softly pulls away from him to rise on his tiptoes to place a kiss his cheek. The skin burns cold where his lips touch. “I love you, too. Also, you’re gonna wanna sit down. This is going to be a lot.”

[sleepinginmygrave]

uh. hello

you can call me jupiter or james but nicknames are more than welcome ⁞ minor ⁞ they/him/hers ⁞ pangender ⁞ polyam ⁞ pan+aroaceflux ⁞ saphillean ⁞ capricorn ⁞ christian ⁞ witch ⁞ therian ⁞ french ⁞ barty + evan kinnie ⁞ harp player ⁞ art is the most important thing to me ⁞ astronomy and marine biology nerd ⁞ big big big animal lover ⁞ huge classical music enjoyer

about me. i guess

musical artists↬tv girl. alex g. mac demarco. current joys. mother mother. ethel cain. chappell roan. weyes blood. abba. lamp. vashti bunyan. ichiko aoba. lisa ono. gorillaz. radiohead. nirvana. tyler, the creator. mf doom. crystal castles. conan gray. home. cavetown. deftones. sum 41. rammstein. the smiths. david bowie. queen. t-rex. the beatles. arctic monkeys. sufjan stevens. the cure. strawberry guy. lana del rey. steve lacy. the neighborhood. roar. vacations. lukrembo. liana flores. duster. sign crushes motorist. macabre plaza. beabadoobee. m83. her's. memo boy. pink pantheress. men i trust. eminem. beach house. yot club. cigarettes after sex. tame impala. eyedress. jack stauber.

classical composers↬ tchaïkovsky; ravel; saint saëns; debussy; satie; fauré; grieg; shostakovtich; liszt

currents animals obsession↬ jellyfishs, sharks, whales, whale sharks, african wild dogs, bovines, horses, (all farms animals. tbh), isopods, snails, any murids, all birds, tarentulas

things i'm deeply passionate about (or enjoy)↬ the sea • rain • animals • plants • poetry • art in any from • classical music • forests • thanatology • marine biology • astronomy • music • bugs • reading at night • art history • plants • gothic architecture • flowers • winnie the pooh

hobbies↬ baking. painting. drawing. knitting. crocheting. playing the harp. going outside. skateboarding. listening to music. reading.

miscellaneous

• i love baking and uhhh i make crêpes almost every week

•@orbitfalls n°1 fan!!!!! everyone go check on her art and read what she write RIGHT NOW because golly i still can't believe it's possible to be this talented

•i knit and crochet. a lot. too much

•capricorn sun, virgo moon and aries rising. and and i have 6 capricorn placements (and 3 aquarius) (.yeah no comment (please comments))

•i do believe in astrology, actually

•i'm a witch!! (christian eclectic witch)

•@sceirlose & @idk-what-to-put-here-123 are my parents and i love them very much

• i'm half norwegian so i go there every years and you will see me posting about it

•orange and blue color combo offical biggest fan. i even have a tag for it it's #almost-night blue+warm orange from the windows i think

•i have three older brother :3

•@evanmp3 is my rp blog and i think you should join we still have a lot of free places and we're so funny and cool (to join ask @thedvilsinthedetails)

• you probably guessed that i play the harp, i've been for 8 years now, i'm in a concervatory and play in an orchestra :]

•i love uhhh music,,a lot,,,

• i'm very normal about everything (lying. if you couldn't tell)

•i want weird pets rn i NEED a tarentula and a snake and a lizard and a crow SO BAD it's not even funny i need them SO SO BAD PLEASE GOD LET ME HAVE THEM I WOULD TREAT THEM SO WELL,,,, I LOVE ANIMALS HLHKFKG *shaking crying sobbing etc*

•i love love love winnie the pooh and tagging me in Winnie the pooh stuffs is more than welcome

• i'm just a silly guy ya'll :3

• i'm in a qpr with the amazing @url0cal-weird0 <33

• I LOVE ART SO SO MUCH art history is so so so interesting and i will reblog a lot of art stuffs (i also do art (oil pastels my beloved) and will post it occasionally if i feel silly)

• also i'm uhh i'm a jellyfish.. and a whale shark..(literally. i'm therian) btw i have a nonhuman sideblog now!! it's @st4rllyfish :3

• i'm trying so hard to make this intro post aesthetic and uhhh stuff but really i'm just a guy i promise i can't do anything serious in my life this is very hard for me please be kind :3

• how do you. make a cool intro post

(dividers by @roseraris and @the-blinkie-guy)

blinkies and userboxes!!

[autumnrory]

saw a post about "reviving" the stucky fandom like having a special day which is all well and good but i'm just like i mean is the fandom dead or did you just stop engaging like people are still very much making edits and fanart and writing fic like in fairness there IS a lot of fanwork that maintains canon and i understand not wanting any of that bc i am absolutely not interested in engaging with any of that bc well. i'm not interested in that kind of angst for this ship or in the belief that you can justify or make endgame logical lol BUT there are also people who remained invested in the ship without any of the nonsense like is it less than it was in 2014 sure but that's not even just bc people abandoned ship it's also bc when the thing is no longer getting new canon content there's simply not gonna be as much fan content churned out either like it is very natural but the content is still there if you actually go into the tags

[fitzrove]

Not only have several of my former classmates gotten married, just found out that now one is having a kid?? 😭😭 just reiterating: i cant believe some people my age are doing that dklsldls. Where do they find time to work/study AND develop intricate crown prince rudolf headcanons once they do that

[decarbry]

hey,, what’s up friends, I bring you... a literal summary of the Yabureme story up until around war arc events. obviously this is spoilery so if you don’t want to know what happens until the relevant comic pages come out don’t expand the post! this is just for people who don’t mind spoilers. also keep in mind that this is a summary so I kind of just. word-vomited. it’s... weird? short and sweet but not in some places. a literal mess. I put 0 effort into writing good and some sections are more wordy than others because I've thought them through for longer and have them more solidified. also things are subject to CHANGE between this and the actual comic pages so read with a grain of salt. the major events are probably gonna remain the same though. things might get inserted or removed. idk. also it’s LONG I’m so sorry. enj... oy ?? ?

Aizawa has been taken. Midnight and Nezu attempt to comfort Mic; there are no leads, but the faculty have already started working schedules out to help search, which reassures him. Though he is desperate to join the search, Nezu refuses to give his blessings until he knows Mic won’t act rashly. Mic hosts the Sports Fest in an attempt to ground himself and find unity with the students.

Hidden away, Garaki has begun his work on Aizawa. The injuries are bad; though Garaki is an accomplished and varied medical professional, he can’t do what Recovery Girl can, so Aizawa is merely stabilized and the bio-engineering in later dev stages will be relied on to do the heavy lifting. Aizawa suffers 2 days and nights of infusions (one for each new quirk) and barely powers through an intense fever on the last night. The capsule is the final and longest stage to allow the quirks to take hold and the body to heal. All for One is a regular voice in the background during the entire process, though those visits stop after an incident in the capsule in which Erasure activated for a solid ten seconds and strikes everyone in the room before going inert again.

Time passes with no news. Mic is becoming frustrated and less willing to listen to reason. Classes 1-A and 1-B attend their summer camp with Vlad and various other heroes that have substituted since Aizawa’s absence. Bakugou is kidnapped by the League in an attempt to recruit. Though the topic is raised, Shigaraki refuses to do more than tease Bakugou about his missing teacher, as well as use him as a bargaining chip. We still have yet to see him since his abduction. The mission to rescue Bakugou begins.

All Might engages in combat with AFO at Kamino. His weakened form is exposed to the world and he musters up his strength for the last strike. Instead, OFA fails, and all heroes present immediately know why. Edge Shot rushes to interrupt Erasure while Endeavor attempts to reach All Might. Neither get there in time and All Might takes a blow straight through his chest. Endeavor takes over the fight against a wounded AFO and Edge Shot engages in battle with Yabureme. Edge Shot is killed and Endeavor manages to subdue AFO.

Hours after the battle ends, Kurogiri searches for Yabureme, who has not reappeared as he was meant to. He finds Yabureme badly injured and hiding after his fight with Edge Shot and warps him back to where the League has taken up to recover. Shigaraki only knew that AFO had plans for Aizawa, not that Yabureme was to be a gift for him, but Kurogiri informs him of this. Shigaraki is unimpressed considering Yabureme’s wounds after only a single fight, but he’s going through some stuff, so he has license to be a bratty child for a night. Once Kurogiri hears from Garaki, he takes Yabureme to be patched up. Later he’s returned to the League, who as a whole are unsure about what to do next now that AFO is captured.

While everyone else is appalled to hear rumors that the supposed-missing Eraser Head was present at Kamino and had a hand in assisting the villains, Mic suddenly has a new fire lit under him. He breaks away from UA and strikes out on his own, against the pleas of friends such as Midnight. He manages to track the League’s movements after much work and finally sees Yabureme for the first time… but is unable to reach or speak to him as his quirk is erased during their escape.

Class 1-A witnessed Mic depart and, with the help of other pros, manage to convince Mic to let them help in catching Yabureme. He is very resistant to putting them in danger but relents with the alliance of Midnight and Gran Torino. During a previous sighting it was noted that Yabureme’s movements slowed and stiffened the more eyes were open on his body, so a plan is hatched to surround Yabureme with as many enemy quirks as possible in order to stun him.

Yabureme is located. He’s alone, which is odd, but not wanting to miss their chance, the operation is launched. Surrounded by what he believes are hostile enemies, Yabureme opens enough eyes to erase the quirks of every student, stunning himself. A short battle ensues; Kaminari is injured but proves instrumental in the discovery of a weakness in the Nomu: that an electrical current will force all of his eyes to close and subsequentially interrupt Erasure. Mic, Gran Torino, Midnight, and Class 1-A succeed in capturing Yabureme.

Too much of a threat for any normal prison containment, Yabureme is taken to Tartarus. They learn: about the nature of his engineering, that exhaustion has nearly killed him, that unlike every other Nomu contained so far he is not a corpse, and that three quirk factors were combined to create Yabureme. Erasure and Dupli-arms (or related) are confirmed, but the third is still being investigated. Because the third quirk is still unknown, containment is at a risk and a shock collar is placed to help mitigate any attempts at escape. The students are brought in to speak to him after everyone else, including Mic and Midnight, fail to get any response out of Yabureme. Unfortunately, the students are also unable to get through to him. Their failed efforts leave them dejected. Yabureme doesn’t speak a word the entire time he is inside Tartarus.

After a few days, the third quirk is activated by an unknown trigger. Yabureme and AFO escape Tartarus with the help of Kurogiri— the timing of the pieces prove that this was orchestrated from the beginning.

In the wake of the escape, Mic is told in secrecy that Yabureme has not removed the shock collar, probably because of its failsafes. It’s been tracked, and his location is known— a new operation is underway to recapture him. Mic rushes to get there first, finding Yabureme in solitude at an abandoned building, having split ways from the League temporarily to avoid getting them tracked while he tries to find a way to remove the collar himself. Mic and Yabureme have a tender moment, or so Mic thinks… but Yabureme slyly uses Mic’s obvious obsession with him to get the hero to take the collar off. Mic falls for it and Yabureme flees.

Though it seemed to be just manipulation, this kind interaction has left the first shred of uncertainty in Yabureme. He returns to the League and resumes his role in protecting Shigaraki and the others. A long period ensues where the League and the heroes play cat and mouse, Mic returning to society in order to accept help from friends and family rather than trying to go it alone as he had before.

Day after day, Yabureme’s doubts deepen as small things burrow into his mind: things like a song on the radio, a familiar black cat, names that he’s heard before. He can’t shake the face of the hero that spoke to him gently and had something warm in his eyes. He meets Eri, but seems to be merely a moment of warmth in her life before departing. Time passes.

The League grows frustrated with Mic, considering his constant interference as troublesome and annoying. Dabi sets a trap for Mic and attempts to kill him. Without any understanding of why, Yabureme takes the worst of the trap himself. He drags an unconscious Mic away from the inferno before collapsing with horrific burns across the right side of his body. Mic wakes in time to feel Yabureme’s heart stop, and in his anguish accidentally causes it to start again with the impact of Voice against the Nomu’s chest.

Mic manages to smuggle Yabureme to a hiding spot, containing him with the only thing available: simple metal handcuffs. Recovery Girl answers his call to the secluded site warily, unhappy that she is asked to keep such a dangerous secret. She stabilizes Yabureme and begins healing some of the burns, but considering his physical deterioration and exhaustion, can’t do much in one sitting.

When the Nomu wakes, Mic and Yabureme have their first real conversation, speaking mostly about the latter and how he’s feeling, what he’s thinking, and why Dabi, his supposed ally, would harm him so badly. He also points out that Yabureme could get out of the cuffs easily, and yet, for some reason, hasn’t.

On the second day, Recovery Girl returns, but so does a second guest: All Might. He is partially wheelchair-bound, the apparent repercussions of the wounds he took at Kamino. He expresses his unhappiness with this situation: Yabureme needs to be properly contained, not hooked to a chainlink fence with fragile metal handcuffs. Mic wants his blessing but plans to keep Yabureme here at least for a short while, highlighting the fact that he’s behaving more openly now than he ever did while in Tartarus. They notice Yabureme watching them and All Might speaks to the Nomu alone. He and Recovery Girl have agreed to give Mic a few days with Yabureme until his burns have been treated, but that he will be returned to Tartarus after that— and now that the third quirk is known, escape will not be possible a second time. He shares some belief that Mic is right that there is hope for Yabureme and that if anyone deserved a path back to normal, it was Shouta Aizawa. He urges the Nomu to try his hardest to remember anything he can.

In the ensuing days, Mic spends time conversing with Yabureme. Unlike the catatonic state he was in while at Tartarus, Yabureme is nervously conversational, answering questions and asking them on his own. He admits his confusion and doubts to Mic, and Mic learns that the whole reason Yabureme was unresponsive while at Tartarus was because of the lights and the intense head pain they cause, utterly decimating his senses and thoughts. He wasn’t shutting down because of his programming or a need to be disobedient— he simply could not function in those conditions.

The morning of the intake comes. Tsukauchi and numerous officers arrive to take Yabureme into custody. Mic attempts to keep everything smooth, warning Yabureme about their arrival and making sure that there aren’t too many men appearing at once. Yabureme nearly panics anyway at the sight of firearms, but is calmed when Mic holds his hands and gives encouragement. Yabureme is taken into custody without a struggle, though he shuts down when he’s led away from Mic.

Mic apologizes to Tsukauchi for hiding Yabureme, but is forgiven considering the relative ease of the capture. The detective promises to keep Mic with Yabureme as much as possible this time around, since his presence clearly helps. He also acknowledges Mic’s request for accommodating Yabureme’s aversion to the bright lights of the prison, especially with the confidence that it might help with getting information out of the Nomu. Yabureme’s shutdown reverses some when Mic reappears in the police transport to travel with him to Tartarus.

Yabureme and Mic arrive at Tartarus and the Nomu is immediately assaulted by the lights. He’s given relief in the form of a sedative. His wounds are checked over while he’s out: it’s discovered that his right eye took far too much damage from Dabi’s flames and must be removed before the dead material causes an infection, shock, or worse. The majority of the burn scars will be permanent because of the lack of proper immediate care in a supplied burn ward. Aside from a handful of new scars and wear and tear, nothing else is noted.

Yabureme startles awake, finding himself in a Tartarus cell with Mic at his bedside. The lights are dimmed rather than blindingly bright. Mic gives him the rundown of what happened, and proudly tells him that the hardest part, getting to the start line of his recovery, was over. He is questioned for the first time the day after waking, and though he is much more responsive to interrogation compared to his last stint in Tartarus, Yabureme still shies away from answering questions that would cause the League a disadvantage… though he is clearly conflicted.

So begins Yabureme’s long road back to someone he didn’t know he used to be. Mic becomes the only foothold of stability Yabureme has, finding that his physical reassurances such as hugs and hand-holding are intensely grounding. The second time he is questioned, he holds Mic’s encouragement in his mind, and manages to talk shortly about some of the Leagues’ hideouts.

He still has doubts about all of this Shouta Aizawa stuff, but Mic works him through stories of his past gently and at a slow pace. The first bit of information that helps Yabureme see that the possibility exists of a connection between himself and this other person is a story Mic tells about Aizawa feeding cats on the street; Yabureme shyly, but excitedly, admits that he does that a lot too. After this, things begin to come more swiftly. Mic brings him his wedding ring, and Yabureme asks to hold Mic’s as well, and remembers the sensation of them clicking against one another in his hand.

With Mic’s help, and the help of a therapist that meets with him daily, more and more begins to come back. Even memories he reclaims are left blurry and dull, but once the flood gate opens, it doesn’t close, and Yabureme’s progress quickens the harder he works. When his memories begin to focus on Class 1-A, he asks to see them. Plenty is still missing, but he apologizes for the things he did to them, focusing on Kaminari and the wounds inflicted during his first capture. He wants to work for their forgiveness, but doesn’t expect it. Midoriya mentions that he seems a lot more like his old self, which fills Yabureme with a hidden relief and encouragement.

Time passes. Yabureme continues to work hard at getting back to himself, and the image of Shouta Aizawa gets more clear by the day. His old mannerisms begin returning in small amounts: rolling his eyes at stupid things Mic says, muttering about things that annoy him. When he gets a surprise visitor, both Mic and Yabureme are surprised to find Kaminari requesting advice for a hitch in his hero training. As Yabureme converses with Kaminari in an observation room, Mic and Tsukauchi watch, and both are amazed to see the clearest image of Aizawa they’ve seen since before his abduction. Mic takes the opportunity to ask about a road that leads outside of Tartarus and, though Tsukauchi doesn’t shut it down, he admits there are many concerns— specifically regarding hidden triggers that might still exist inside Yabureme’s mind. An idea is floated: bring someone in with a voice-copying quirk, and see what happens when Yabureme is faced with orders from Shigaraki or All for One.

Yabureme (Aizawa? Yabuzawa by this point?) agrees to the experiment, though he is clearly discomforted by the idea, unsure of how he mind be effected. The experiment begins. Yabuzawa is secured heavily just in case, but he is clearly determined, if nervous. The voice-copying quirk speaks in Shigaraki’s voice first, ordering him to turn his head to one side. Yabuzawa doesn’t seem to have a problem disobeying, but when the speaker doubles down and becomes hostile about his refusing to obey an order, Yabuzawa spirals and has a panic attack. All for One’s voice cuts in with an order that is obeyed immediately, and Mic is only able to snap him out of it with a slap to the face. The results are clear: Shigaraki’s orders can be ignored with enough work, but AFO’s orders seem unquestionable. Yabuzawa is frustrated by his own perceived failure in the experiment, understandably upset that despite all of the progress he’s made, they still hold some power over him.

Time passes. Yabuzawa improves with his response to Shigaraki’s voice, though still shaken after being faced with it, can do so without panicking. AFO’s orders seem unbreakable. Mic once again breaks the topic of getting him out of Tartarus, and after some debate, it’s agreed that the UA students and the hero efforts (and Yabuzawa himself) would benefit more with Aizawa back in the world. By this time the unknown of the League and AFO and the PLA have long been poisoning society’s trust in heroes; Erasure can’t be hidden away in a bunker with tensions growing by the day.

Mic is permitted to confine him to their apartment under police guard for increasingly longer periods of time, regular check-ins and evaluations, and lots of rules. Yabuzawa isn’t permitted to be alone with anyone aside from Mic, and when outside of the building must cover his neck, arms, and hands. Finally, the shock collar is back as a last resort. If you read this whole thing you’re a certified #1 Yabureme fan sorry I don’t make the rules

[front-facing-pokemon]

[jensensfanfic]

could you do a protective ellie one shot? like maybe the reader gets hurt and ellie loses her shit on whoever hurt her? thank for considering !

DRAW YOU, DEFEND YOU, OH, AND I LIKE YOU

pairing: student!ellie x fem!reader

word count: 1.8k

warnings: fighting (not much), bullying, mentions of a few minor injuries, reader wears glasses, reader has anxiety

a/n: i'm gonna say you're both around 16/17 in this. school systems confuse me everywhere, so just apply that to whatever year group you'd be in. reader is written as being quite shy and quiet in this one! also, i name the a-hole liam :). hope you like it!

☆•°°•☆°••°☆•°°•☆°••°☆

Unsurprisingly, the news that you were the new kid in class had already travelled well, making it through the entire school within a day. The thing that made this bad news was that everyone's eyes were on you. They were probably waiting to see if you were going to be a spitfire, loud mouth who took nobody's crap, or one of the quiet kids: an easy target.

You were the latter. Quiet, introverted, not used to having more than one friend, but very accustomed to eating alone every lunch.

Nobody bothered you much for the first month or so, but then one guy had seen you eating lunch with a teacher, and now you were the subject of nerd jokes.

You had sat with your Maths professor one time to go over some homework. It had taken longer than expected, and you decided to grab a cereal bar from your bag, your tummy begging for it through growls. This tiny choice had deemed you nerd, teacher's pet, and a plethora of other jokes relating to the fact that you wore glasses.

Then, one day, it escalated. One of the self entitled 'popular' guys had taken a seat in front of you at lunch. He started blabbing on, tossing around the nerd jokes, clearly looking for some kind of response that you refused to give. Even if you wanted to tell him to piss off, you never would because the thought of doing so made your heart race.

You were caught up in your own thoughts, his voice sounding as though he were underwater, when he suddenly bangs his hands down onto the table. You flinch, glancing around, seeing that the movement had caused your drink to spill.

"Crap." You mutter, picking it up before it could get onto your clothes.

"Oh, so you have a voice." The guy says, mockingly as he looks over to his friends, who are all laughing. "The freak actually talks."

"I—" Before you can speak, you see a shadow move over the dining table. Looking up, you're surprised to see that it's Ellie Williams.

Ellie wasn't a quiet kid like you, but she also wasn't a nobody either. You'd seen her with a couple of friends, but you'd also seen her alone, smoking on her way to and from school, or sitting in windows with her guitar or a notepad. Ellie was that girl that no one knew too much about, but they were all curious – mostly about her tattoo since she didn't even attempt to hide it on most days.

Ellie was in a few of your classes, one of which she was seated in front of you. You would sometimes find yourself trying to peek over and look at her sketches she doodled during lessons. She was incredibly talented, once or twice you wanted to compliment her, but then your pounding heart would stop you.

She was also really, really hot, but that was a thought you pushed away, for fear that if someone found out, that would be the next thing you'd be singled out for. Plus, it's not like you would ever tell her.

"Hey, Liam." Now, she was standing next to you, notepad tucked under her arm, one hand pressed against the table. "Back off, okay?"

"Williams? The fuck do you want?"

"I want you to leave the girl alone." She glances at you, and you immediately cast your eyes down. "Go fuck with someone else."

Liam scoffs and then goes back to his friends, flipping Ellie off as he walks away.

"Jesus." Ellie refills his seat, plopping down with a grunt. "Sorry about him. He's a dick. Hard to believe he used to be kinda cool. Anyway... Are you good?"

"Uh..." She waits patiently for your answer, and you gather quickly that she's not planning on leaving until she gets one. "Yeah... thanks."

"Cool." She stands again. "See you around."

You mutter a 'bye', but she is already halfway across the dining hall, shooting a glare at Liam's table as she goes.

Over the next few weeks, Ellie comes to your defence several more times. She tells you how sick she is getting hearing Liam and his friends torment you.

"I just... don't really care. If I react, it'll just make it worse. I can handle it." You momentarily realise that Ellie has gotten more words out of you than anyone else since you'd transferred here to Jackson Academy.

"Yeah, well, you shouldn't have to deal with it. Tell 'em to fuck off." Ellie sighs then, loudly. "Hey, you wanna get lunch together today?"

"What, so you can sit there like a bodyguard or something?"

"Maybe." Ellie laughs, grabbing her things, along with your own bag. "Come on."

"Uh, okay..."

—

After you've eaten everything, Ellie pulls out her sketchbook while you tap away at a game on your phone. You watch her squint and twist her head, concentrated on whatever it is she's drawing.

"You know..." You remind yourself that Ellie has called you her friend many times, and she defended you, so she's not going to lash out or anything... you decide to bat the anxiety away for a second. "You're really talented. I've seen a little of what you've drawn here and there and... it's really good."

Ellie's pencil stops, and she looks up at you through her lashes. "Really?" She smiles and then looks up fully. "Thank you."

"You're welcome." You feel the spread of heat on your cheeks and rest your head in your hands in an attempt to hide it. "So, uh, what're you drawing?"

"You." Ellie answers instantly.

You blanch. "What?"

"That's okay?"

"No, it's fine. Just, uh– why me?"

"Your face." Ellie pauses again and drops a pencil into her case, swapping it for a slightly thinner one. "It's interesting."

"Interesting?" You feel a drop in your stomach, you anxiety ridden brain immediately thinking of the worst case scenario - that maybe this was an elaborate plan to mock you and—

"Pretty." Ellie sees the panic and diminishes in a word.

"Huh?"

"I meant you have a pretty face, and I wanted to draw it. Okay?" She chuckles softly, pushing her pencil into her hair bun and then reaching over to touch your arm. "Chill."

"Right... uh–"

"What's going on here, ladies?" You are once again met with the sight of Liam's annoying face. He stands inches away, obnoxiously smacking his lips as he chews on some gum. "Aw, you two pals now? Or..." He wiggles his brows, and then you realise that Ellie's hand is still on yours, and he's looking right at them.

Years of pent-up frustration fill your chest, and you stand suddenly, your chair scraping along the floor and creating an ugly sound that makes you cringe. "Liam, for fuck sake, can you just... leave me the hell alone."

"Ooh, the kitten has claws. Did Williams tell you to–"

"Shut up!" You yell, gaining the attention of a few more students as they look on and listen in. "Just fuck off. Go smoke a joint or jack off with you buddies, whatever the fuck. Just get lost."

You tap Ellie on the shoulder, who raises her brows in question. "Wanna go?"

"Uh, yeah." She gathers her pad and pencils and stands with you, looking a little impressed. "Let's go."

Before you can make even a couple of steps, you trip over something and go tumbling to the ground. Unfortunately, your elbow and chin take most of the fall, but you ignore it for a moment to twist and find the source of what happened.

Liam is standing above you, his foot still frozen mid-air, and he actually looks surprised. For a second, you think maybe he regrets tripping you, but then his friends are all cheering. He looks back and forth between them and then echoes their laughter, but it sounds forced - and you should know, he'd laughed around or in front of you a lot by this point.

"Are you okay?" You hadn't even noticed Ellie kneeling at your side.

You look up at her and nod, but upon seeing your face fully, she switches from concerned to pissed off. She abruptly stands, and you follow her movement until she is nearing Liam. You notice her fist is clenched, and before you can scramble up to stop her, it connects with Liam's face.

She shakes her hand after, flexing her fingers and looking down at where he now sits on the floor. "Asshole."

The next day, you meet Ellie on the bleachers before school. "So, what's the damage? Detention?"

"Yeah, every day for a couple of weeks. But it was worth it."

"Not really. Haven't you had like a perfect record before this."

Ellie nods, and you sigh. "Ellie..."

"What? It's done, I can't take it back."

"Why did you have to hit him?" You gently prod your bruised chin, the dull ache less painful and more annoying.

"Literally, you ask me that question as you flinch and poke around your fat bruise. I fucking hit him because he hurt you."

"Ugh, it's not that bad."

Ellie rolls her eyes. "That's not the point. I don't know if you've noticed, but over the past few weeks, I've gotten kind of attached to you."

"Um..." You frown, not quite believing what you just heard, but something blooms in your stomach, sends a wave of tingles up your arms and legs. "Okay. I... don't know what to say to that."

"It's pretty simple, my oblivious friend. I've had my eye on you since you enrolled in this crappy fuckin' school. Everytime that stupid fuck said something to you I wanted to hit him. And then when you were on the floor and I saw you were hurt... I wanted to rip his face off."

"Jesus, Ellie."

"What can I say? Maybe I have some anger issues. The point is... I finished your drawing."

"What? I-" You're so confused that you laugh. "How does a drawing conclude your point in this conversation?"

"Take a look." Ellie smiles, smug, but with a hint of nervousness. She points to her notebook between you, and you take it. Flipping through the pages, you search for your drawing, and when you find it, you blush right away. "So?"

Your hand glides down the page. Ellie has drawn you with your head resting on your hand during lunch, one hand on your phone. She has even drawn the name of the game you were playing in that moment. Underneath, your name, followed by your name.

'I always thought it was kinda weird to gift someone a drawing of their own face... anyway I like you. Can I buy you dinner sometime? —Ellie :)'

You pluck the pencil from her ear and find a new page. You scribble for a minute or so, and Ellie is impatient, tapping her foot on the metal seats.

When you're done, you turn the sketchbook around. Ellie quickly reads it and then grins.

In big letters you had written, 'YES'.

Then, underneath, in much smaller writing:

'(Also, I think you're really, really hot.)'

☆•°°•☆°••°☆•°°•☆°••°☆

[solradguy]

It's fun dressing cartoonishly masculine. I need to put a steel chain on my leather jacket that matches the spikes and compliments the cyborg demon skull painted on the back

[seventh-district]

not even gonna tag this properly bc i don't wanna get Involved but i do have some Thoughts i need to get out into the void so here we go

(aaa quick edit: CW for mention/discussion of Boothill leaks)

[svtskneecaps]

friends and fiends if this truly spells the Over for the qsmp i may let the brainworms that have been festering in me for MONTHS--A YEAR, EVEN--win.

i may summarize the goddamn fucking lore.

[gaylightisminetocommand]

also the fact that by the end of the series Loki has known these people for literal centuries. i'm totally normal about that.