#if u read this mess then thank u

[luxaofhesperides]

We Are Robins meeting to Signal apprehending Danny ; requested by @zylev-blog!

“Hey, Danny. How are you feeling?”

Danny gives Duke a tired smile, his head falling back against the wall. He’s sitting up today, which is good. It’s definitely an improvement from the many days Danny was unable to do much but lie down and grit his teeth through the pain as Duke checked on the gunshot wound. It’s a good thing Danny’s a meta with a healing factor, or nothing Duke could have done would have saved him.

As it is, the wound was severe enough to keep Danny vulnerable and unable to move on his own without making it worse. Though Duke has looked, he hasn’t had any luck in finding whoever did this to Danny. He hasn’t brought it up to the rest of the We Are Robin gang, but only because Danny only let him help if he kept it between the two of them.

What’s another secret? If it lets him stay close to Danny and make sure he’s healing well, then he’ll keep quiet and carry on the search by himself. He’s got plenty of practice in doing things on his own.

“Busy out there?” Danny asks as Duke sits down next to him, dropping his backpack onto the ground. 

“Yeah, it’s tough with the cops after us, but someone needs to help Gotham and with Batman gone…”

A pained expression crossed Danny’s face. Eyeing him carefully, Duke opened his backpack and pulled out a few protein bars and sports drinks for him. Once Danny takes them and began eating one, Duke takes out the first aid kit, always kept at the bottom of the backpack, and sets it in front of Danny.

The most he can do is offer supplies and company at this stage of Danny’s healing. He gets twitchy and tense when Duke tries to tend to his wound, and seems to have plenty of practice in patching himself up. 

He didn’t answer when Duke commented on it once, so Duke let the matter drop. 

Metas may have legal protection, but that doesn’t stop people from targeting them. Duke has no intention of pushing Danny into remembering unpleasant things while he’s already wounded, hiding out in the upper corner of an abandoned warehouse taken over by a group of homeless people. Most aren’t inside during the day, choosing instead to be out with the rest of the city, which leaves them alone. 

Duke keeps an eye on the ground floor of the warehouse, making sure no one comes in while Danny tends to his wound. When he peeks back, he can see that it’s much smaller than it was the night Duke found him, crawling down an alley with one hand clutching his side, tears slipping down his face. There had been so much blood that Duke was sure he had just stumbled upon someone dying and froze, horrified. 

And then a shout down the road prompted him to move, hauling Danny up and helping him into the warehouse to hide. 

For a normal person, if it didn’t kill them, the wound would still be raw and bleeding, larger than any gunshot wound he’s seen before. But Danny’s wound is closing up quickly, no longer bleeding, the edges a healing pink.

It doesn’t look like it’s going to scar, either. 

“Think it’ll be all healed up by the end of the week?”

Danny glances up, then continues covering it with new bandage, large enough to cover the entire wound. “Hopefully,” he says. “Then I’ll be out of your hair and can figure out a way to get home.”

“Your folks gonna look out for you?”

“Probably. I’m not planning on telling them, though, since they’ll get way too overprotective. The only reason they’re not tearing Gotham apart looking for me is because I came here with my godfather and he told them we’d be gone for two weeks. Can’t believe he tried to kill me on day one…”

“Your godfather tried to kill you?”

“Yeah. Not personally, or anything, but he definitely hired the guy who shot me. Though he also yelled at him for shooting me? Not sure what that’s about, but I never trusted the guy and he didn’t try to help me afterwards when I ran away, so. You know.”

Duke wants to have a conversation with Danny’s godfather. Maybe bring the other Robins along to make sure the message sinks in: Don’t touch Danny.

But Danny, acting so casual about his godfather trying to kill him, would be unhappy about it, and Duke would really rather be able to take care of him than be shut out for trying to take control of the situation.

“Shit, man, that sucks,” he offers, instead of prying for details so he can hunt down his godfather. “You want a hug or something? I can’t really do much else, but if it can make you feel better about all this…”

Danny brightens and shoves the first aid kit away, his shirt (one of Duke’s old ones he offered up to replace the bloodstained one) falling to cover the bandage. “Please. I would love a hug, dude, I don’t remember the last time I felt so lonely.”

Carefully, Duke wraps his arms around Danny, leaning back so Danny could relax fully and not worry about holding himself up. Danny sighs into the hug, going fully limp as he drops his forehead onto Duke’s shoulder.

“Thanks for this. And everything,” Danny says some time later. He doesn’t move to pull away, so Duke stays as he is, watching the weak sunlight slowly move across the warehouse as it spills in from dirty windows. 

“You don’t need to thank me. I mean, I’m a Robin.” He brings up a hand to tap a finger against the R embroidered into his jacket. “It’s what we’re here for.”

.

.

.

It’s been years since he saw Danny. After he was fully healed, Duke helped him get to city limits, watching as he boarded a bus and disappeared down the road, leaving his life just as suddenly as he entered it.

After spending so much time together, quiet hours of stillness just looking out for each other, his life feels emptier without Danny in it. He knew it wouldn’t last, that Danny would go home eventually, but it didn’t make the parting any easier.

Even now, as Signal, taking a break from going on missions with the Outsiders to spend some time with the Bats, his thoughts drift towards Danny, wondering if he’s alright. In his darker moments, he wonders if Danny’s godfather has tried to kill him again, if he’s succeeded. In calmer, happier moments, he remembers Danny’s quiet stories about his family, his town, all his dreams and hopes for the future, remembers the easy company and how Danny didn’t look at him with pity when talked about his parents, just quiet and contemplative. 

Sometimes, he can’t resist the urge to look him up, but there are so many Danny’s out there that he doesn’t know where to start. He never got Danny’s last name or learned when he came from.

It’s not like he can just ask the Bats for help finding a guy he knew for two weeks before he ever joined them. They’re all busy with their own missions, and definitely don’t have time for Duke’s reminiscing. 

“Just caught sight of the truck entering city limits,” Oracle says in his ear. “It’s heading towards the Coventry.”

“On it. Any movement from the mobs?”

“None yet. I expect this to change soon. Red Hood and Black Bat are patrolling nearby if you need backup.”

“Got it. Signal out.”

His comline shuts with a little click, and then he’s grappling over the roof tops, keeping an eye on the roads in search of the truck. He doesn’t have time to think of Danny anymore, not when a shipment of new, experimental weapons is passing through Gotham. Spoiler had heard a few whispers of it and Red Robin helped find more solid details; the mobs are all looking to take the shipment for themselves in an attempt to get the upper hand in the nonstop fight for control of Gotham’s streets. 

It’s passing through during the day, visible and a good move to keep from being ambushed at night, but it’s not enough to stop mobs hoping to take out their competition with new weapons. Duke enters the Coventry just as his comline beeps once and Oracle begins giving him specific directions, along with a brief description of what the truck looks like. 

Apparently, the weapons are being moved in a U-Haul rental truck. That is… certainly a Choice™ to make for moving weapons around the country.

He follows it from the rooftops, but nothing happens. The truck passes through the Coventry without incident and takes a turn that keeps it away from Crime Alley and the Bowery. It gets to the middle of East End then pulls to a stop in the parking lot of a diner. 

Two people get out and stretch, then head in to get something to eat.

It would be the perfect time for someone to break in. Duke pulls the light over himself, manipulating it to make him disappear from sight as he looks down from the edge of the rooftop, tense and prepared for anything.

He almost doesn’t see it at first. It’s just a flicker, a flash of color, a shift in the shadows across the street. But he does see it, even if he can’t find it again, and drops down from the roof, creeping towards the truck.

Duke waits, holding his breath, off to the side of the parking lot. 

A minute passes. And then a figure materializes out of thin air, floating right behind the truck. All Duke can see is white hair and a black body suit; they’re either a meta or an alien, but either way, Duke is ready to take them down.

The figure lifts their hands and a bolt of neon green energy hits the truck, melting the back and leaving a large hole that gives them direct access to the weapons. And then they shoot again, destroying the weapons.

“Phantom!” someone shouts, and the truck driver comes tearing out of the restaurant, a white gun in his hand. His companion follows, her gun also out, and the begin shooting. 

Phantom dodges the blasts, then vanishes from sight. He reappears behind them a moment later, tackling back of them into the side of the truck. 

“No you don’t!” Duke say, rushing forward as he pulls at the shadows around him then sends them racing towards Phantom, restraining them. The driver and his companion collapse onto the ground, groaning weakly, and Duke grits his teeth. “O, send someone to look after the people moving the weapons. Apprehending an attacker now.”

He doesn’t wait to hear a response, tightening the shadow’s grip on Phantom, who struggles fiercely.

“We can do this the hard way, or the easy way,” he says, pulling Phantom closer to him.

Phantom doesn’t answer. They just scream, the force of it making Duke fall back. His shadows dissipate, and Phantom flies up.

“Get back here!”

Duke gives chase, dropping in and out of shadows, throwing some at Phantom in the hopes of catching him again. But Phantom is fast and it takes all he has to keep up as they cross Gotham.

He thought Phantom was flying around blindly, but the way they move across the roofs and then through the streets are too confident, too focused to be anything other than someone with a destination in mind. But where? Where could they be going? If they’ve been in Gotham, then Duke would have heard of them.

A flying, powerful meta with a multitude of powers? Yeah, he would have known about them.

Phantom flies through a wall and Duke curses, going onto the roof and looking around, waiting to see them fly out. But they don’t and Duke finds a broken skylight to drop in from, landing on the support beams of the warehouse, well above the ground.

He knows the warehouse, he realizes suddenly. It’s the warehouse Danny hid in while he was healing. Duke hasn’t been back in years.

“Just listen to me, please,” a voice says behind him, and Duke tense, spinning around to face Phantom, floating just out of reaching distance. “Those weapons are dangerous. No one should have them, it’s why I had to destroy them. Please, you can’t let them get those weapons out.”

Duke stares. Something about Phantom is familiar. The shape of his face, maybe. His voice. Maybe it’s just because he’s in the warehouse again, with someone pleading for his help.

Maybe it’s all in his mind.

“Danny?”

Phantom flinches, floating back a few inches. “What— How—”

“What happened? Is it your godfather again?”

“My— Duke? Is that you?!”

He definitely shouldn’t be doing this, but Danny’s here. Danny’s here in front of him, needing help, and he doesn’t need the Signal. He needs Duke.

He pulls off his helmet and lifts his bare face to Danny.

“Oh,” Danny breathes. “Well. I guess I should have known you’d be a hero. Can you help me one last time?”

“Yeah, of course Danny. Tell me what you need.”

“Those weapons, they were first made to kill me and others like me. It’s a whole thing I don’t have time to explain. But they’ve been changed to affect humans, all types of people, as well. I can survive a few hits from those weapons, but for most people, it would kill them instantly. I need to destroy all of them and stop any further production before the rest of the world gets a hold of them.”

“That’s why you—”

“They have to be destroyed,” Danny says. “And the people making and selling them need to be stopped. I can’t do it on my own. I’ve tried, but…”

“I’ll help,” Duke says, “I’ll help. This is a big enough problem to bring the Outsiders into it. Or the Bats, but they like to stay in Gotham.”

Danny floats closer, looking painfully relieved. “Really? They’ll be able to put an end to this?”

Duke reaches for him. “Yeah. they can do it. I’ll make sure of it.”

Danny’s feet land on the support beam as his hand meets Duke’s. They balance above the rest of the warehouse, drinking in the sight of each other. Duke rubs his thumb over Danny’s knuckles in soothing circles and watches as the tension begins to fall away from Danny’s shoulders.

“Duke,” he whispers, “I’ve missed you—”

The door below is kicked open, and a gunshot rings out. 

Moving on instinct, Duke tackles Danny, wrapping him up in his arms as they fall off the support beam. They hit the ground hard, rolling a bit, and Duke tucks Danny into his chest, bodily protecting him.

“Narrows!” 

The Red Hood stands over him, menacing, a gun pointed at him. 

“Hood?” He loosens his grip on Danny. “What the hell was that for?” 

“Thought you needed back up. You chased after our guy and lost your helmet, I think I’m right to be a little worried about you. So, who’s this?” There’s a hard edge to his voice, and Duke realizes with a sinking heart that all anyone else sees is an aggressor, a meta who attacked a truck full of weapons, attacked two people, and had to be chased down by the Signal. Jason’s seeing a threat and acting accordingly, putting Duke’s safety first. 

And with his helmet off, identity clear, Danny’s even more dangerous now that he has this knowledge.

“I’m sorry,” Danny whispers to Duke. He doesn’t have time to ask for what? before Danny’s shooting another beam of green energy at Jason then taking off, flying through the roof and out of sight.

“Shit,” Jason mutters, straightening up from where he ducked to avoid being hit, then puts his gun away and kneels next to Duke. “You alright? Why’d you let him go? I thought you had him.”

“I’m fine. He’s not… He wasn’t going to hurt me. He just needed help.”

“Sure. And what are you not telling me?”

“I knew him. He’s a good person, but he’s been in danger for a long time. This was him trying to protect others from what he went through.”

Jason takes off the helmet and stares at him. Then he sighs and reaches a hand down to help Duke to his feet. “Alright,” he says, “Let’s head back to the truck. You have until then to convince me that they’re the problem, and if they are, then I’ll help you blow up more of their weapons.” He claps a hand on Duke’s shoulder, then pulls his helmet back on. “Grab your helmet. We’re wasting daylight, Narrows.”

There’s nothing else he can do, no way to search for Danny when there are other leads to chase, so Duke grapples up to the catwalk where his helmet landed and grabs it.

Just before he puts it on, he sees a flicker of white just outside the window he’s facing. He ducks his head to hide a smile. It’s almost like he’s stepped back in time; Danny’s here in Gotham, needing help and asking for it in the warehouse. 

And though so much has changed in those years, there’s still one thing that Duke will ensure never changes: he’s Danny’s hero. Above Robin, or Signal, or anything else, Duke is Danny’s hero.

This time, he has the power to actually help Danny. He’s going to make sure no one ever hurts Danny again.

“Let’s go,” he says, jumping back down to Jason, helmet on. “I’ll tell you everything you need to know.”

[badyan]

The clanks

"oh-…i can move, you don’t have to sit on the floor"

"I prefered it." he answers simply, not bothering himself to explain anything more than that. His metal feet clanked against each other as he sat on the floor nearby the bed where you were laying, doodling nothings in your sketchbook — the thing you have made a habit to do when you’re hanging out in his quarters while he’s busy.

And you have never seen him this busy before. Hours standing still at his workbench, staring down the poor blueprints, then pacing through the room, his steps more calculated than the clock’s clicks. Nights follow days and the first sun rays always wake you up because there’s no curtains or anything that can make this place cozy at its bare minimum — except for the soft cushions and pillows and blankets on the bed which he has gathered only for you, only because you asked, only because you wanted to spend more time with him.

The bed was giant, clearly made for two, but there wasn’t a chance in the last few days for you to feel the familiar weight sliding closer in the dark of the night, spooning from behind so carefully, his hands gently finding their rest on your waist. Something was haunting him for too long now and you wouldn’t mind waiting for him, no, never have you, but you simply started to get worried about his state — and you’ve approached him with that but was gently turned back to your rest. You knew that he wasn’t going to listen to you anyway — but you also knew you couldn’t just let him be in this alone. So, you’re staying with him for a while. Even if he barely talks to you, he could never deny your company.

And now you’re relieved to see him sitting down nearby to meditate a bit — for the first time during this whole time. You move closer to him, hand gently sliding onto the broad shoulder.

"You should take a rest now, hun…"

"I truly don’t have much time for that." he grunts, though he knows you’re right. And the constant feeling of your attentive eyes was the actual reason why he actually forces himself to set aside his work and go take a breather. Even if he can’t actually breathe nor focus on the meditation itself.

"I…understand.." you reply reluctantly, fingertips brushing along his long collarbone pistons in a little affectionate way. He relaxes his schoulders slightly, subtly giving you more room to caress, and interwhines his hands together in the meditation gesture.

You continue to glide your hand against his metal, almost trying to calm down its unusual warmth — countless hours of mulling over his duties must have caused him to overheat. Mindlessly, your fingers wander further, over his ribbed chest and up to his neck, where they stumble upon the shiny ends of his cable hair. And that soft clank of them gives you an idea.

You sit on the bed, right behind him. An unusual angle — were his shoulders and back always this wide…and somehow heartening to look at? Like you could lean on it and feel the safest in the whole world… He sit on the floor and you still have to slightly raise your hands to carefully grasp his hair, moving it all back. You can feel him flinch just for a bit and you can’t help but smile at him being startled by such a simple touch.

"What are you doing?"

"I’ll just put them up for you," you say softly, shuffling through the thick cables in your hands, feeling their pleasant weight and quiet clanking. He almost scoffs at your offering.

"There’s no need for that-"

"Hush now." you insist, hands brushing through his cables length. "I know how it feels when they start to clutter around and piss you off. Just let me help you a lil’ bit."

And he modulates a sigh, returning to his meditating posture. That’s where you take things into your own hands — and with that, you start to work. Carefully combing his hair, then parting down the center, then starting to weave some cables together in the order only known to you. Your hands go slowly, taking strand by strand so carefully, like it would hurt him otherwise — and Ramattra can’t help but to concentrate only on your movements, feeling every subtle tug and twist you made with his cords, but oh with such care, it makes his circuits warm up…

"What are you planning to make?" he asks after a few minutes of pure silence and, suddenly, you can sense something new in his quiet tone. A hint of hesitation…but in a good way. Oh, it clicks for you immidiately and you can’t help but to chuckle softly.

"Just braids" you murmur, leaning in to give him a sweet little kiss on the top of his head. Such a simple tender gesture, yet it almost makes him falter.

"Braids?..." his head tilts in confusion — and you have to grab it by the sides gently and turn back up.

"Hey, stay still! They’re gonna look great on you, trust me…" your adorable reassurance doesn’t leave him another choice but to surrender. Though, he does find himself enjoying this whole unnesessary braiding thing…Your presence so close and your gentle little hands doing some magic with his hair, these bulky cables following your lead, not without some struggling first, but still. It’s you — you’re doing something for him. You’re here, by his side, all this time…It’s enough to finally let all these irritating thoughts begone. His mind fills with nothings, sweet nothings indeed: your hands playing around with his hair and your breathing quietly making the peaceful rythm of the moment. You are with him.

Is this…the tranquility Zen is always talking about?

He doesn’t realise how long you two were sitting like this. He simply doesn’t care now — everything seems to matter less and less the more you’re tangling your hands in his cables. But eventually, you make the final tugs and withdraw from him.

"Here you go.."

"Already?" he asks too quickly, with an undertone of longing. The moment dissapears so fast, no matter how hard he hopes it to last just a little longer.

"It took me nearly an hour!" you laugh at his question, hands running down your little piece of art. Two thick french braids go from the upper corners of his faceplate down along his head, slightly resembling dragon horns which reach up laying on his shoulders where your hands carefully move them. The weaving was quite simple but made so thoroughly the ends don’t even need something to tie them up — the rubbery texture and the tight neat braiding hold the cables together without any additional knots.

"Now, turn to me."

He slowly does so, feeling how the movements of his head became freer. It feels almost like getting your body part replaced. The same, but somehow still different. He doesn’t feel like he dislikes it, he just isn’t used to the sensation, doesn’t know where to place it within his system — but when he sees himself in the mirror you brought up to his face, he understands it immideately. Love.

Not with the braids, though he does like the way they look on him. He is in love with you. That unconditional, utter feeling which makes his circuits overheat and that electric pulse go haywire till the HUD flashes with a bunch of new warnings. That feeling he thought he never ever would be able to share with someone…

And there are you, looking at him fondly, while being so busy adjusting the way the cables twist around his faceplate.

"You’re gorgeous…You already knew that, don’t you?"

"I-…" his voice stutters into a static — clearly from your sweet words — and he tilts his head slightly to admire your work. "I love it. Thank you, babe" his faceplate lowers to gently press against the crook of your neck, soft vibrations in omnicode expressing the whole of his feelings that he can’t quite place in words now, mimicking the tender kisses. And the way you slightly shy away from his touch, giggling and whining playfully that it’s ticklish — it only makes him fall for you even more, wrapping a hand around your waist and pulling you flush against his body in a tight embrace, letting himself nuzzle into your neck and get lost in your charming laugher.

A half an hour goes by unnoticed in the sweetest cuddles for the last week, accompanied by cute little pecks here and there, the soft sounds of your whispers, his quiet murmurs and the clanks of his cable braid’s ends when you playfully nudge him in the chest. Yet, suddenly, your eyes flash with an another idea and you pull away, leaving him puzzled and eager to just grab and move you back there for more cuddles.

"Now, you stay here." you lean against the wall and grab your sketchbook, opening it on the new page and biting down on your pencil, looking thoughtfully at your dear omnic, admiring the way confusion stirs within him.

"Why?"

"I need to capture your beauty" and you can hear him steaming from your words.

~~~~~~~

thank u for the idea, @statuetochka <з you make me feel so inspired with your art, hope this lil piece will make you smile

[theroseeatsribs]

silly comic

[c-kiddo]

finished ep86 and 87 in my cr2 rewatch and tbh some of the best episodes in the show. so cinematic. yasha's back . so many good cathartic story moments. also them entering the hall with king dwendal is so tense and cinematic too , besides the cathedral . like its so crazy . so legendary

[majestyjun]

sorry this is so random or whatever but really, thank u for reading my shitty writing and even if u don’t leave feedback or anything, just knowing someone took time to read something i wrote is so crazy

so thank u for reading smth i put time into haha

[twilightarcade]

(covered in blood) i survived the google sheet

[boxwinebaddie]

hi uncle nina! sorry if this is kinda overbearing, but you havent posted anything today so i just wanna check in and make sure youre doing okay! <3

oh my god, sweetheart!!! this is not overbearing AT ALL! this is extremely thoughtful and makes me feel extremely validated. <3

i'm sorry for causing concern, but ty for being concerned about me.

because the school year is coming to a close, things around me at work have been pretty intense, so i've been tossed around like a ragdoll the past week and haven't had much time to write as a result. i also haven't been sleeping very well and rush a lot in the mornings, so i've forgotten to take my mood stabilizer the past couple of days which makes me v sluggish, zombie-ish and unpleasant in general. :/

...when i am like that, as a weird way of sparing you, i suppose, i try not to post on here too much because it feels quite shitty indeed for you to get a notification for my blog just to watch me bitch n moan.

however, i have taken my medication today and feel bad for fumbling kyle week...as we know i'm not really good at holding myself accountable or making deadlines. oddly enough, it's not that i don't want to answer my questions, it's just that other than not being able to really find the time recently, i just can't find the right...words?

( this ask is long and irrelevant, but read if you wish. ilysm. )

or, rather, i don't feel knowledgeable enough the subjects to answer? specifically in the areas of my tsot/tfbw styles and ncuniverses, i feel a little insecure because i don't know sp or the games as well as many other people do, so i'm trying to speed watch episodes/watch speed runs of the games online so i can at least keep some canon intact?

i also am finding that creating and understanding how high fantasy universes work is...difficult? lmao? also because i did crazy stuff with mutations and science and politics in my tfbw ncuniverse, that's also complicated and out of my wheelhouse...tldr: i have big ideas, but i'm not very good at backing them in fact or doing analytical stuff.

but...iiiiii need to, lmao. mental illness, but if i make a universe it has to be fully realized, it has to all make as much sense as possible, echo the canon, enhance it, feel real and be fluid...so if i'm not around too much it's because i'm trying to bolster myself with my sp knowledge ( ik, i'm a fake fan ) and watch/read/research high fantasy concepts and superhero/scientific fiction/dystopian stuff...so if anyone has any recommendations for me to watch or learn from in those realms, i'd appreciate it. again, this is intense...but i care a lot about my craft.

and specifically crafting something worthy of all of you, that makes sense, lives and breathes, reflects the show we love & is interesting.

ANYWAYS!!!! with that said, i got a cool ask about whether or not i have a gunslinger kyle? which? not yet? BUT YOU'RE A GENIUS BABY I AM SOOOOO ON IT!!! please let me cook and watch some things because actually, oh my god, i am very down. i'll update you. i might make a board to gather ideas, omg, omg, it'll be SPICY.

i got an ask about princess kylie, which, bless you, i am also still developing her character, i am going to pour over the books, watch some GOT, do some mapping out, watch some intricate dnd play throughs...and have some answers for you very soon: hang on, baby.

( she's little, bitchy, prissy and does need to be babysat, i'm afraid. )

got some on jersey i'm excited about! sorry for writing that ask meme about the sour skittles like that, again, writing has been trying for me lately and i had a concept that i wanted to share but wasn't sure how to express that. if you guys are alright with getting my asks in the form of notes some times i would appreciate it! anyways, keep your eyes out for some of those...if kyle week runs into next week, sorry.

idk...this is so long. all this to say...i'm really sorry? i haven't been a very solid creator lately, but i'm a little unstable rn. but i am working on it and i hope to be back on the horse by tonight and share my notes at least and show you guys how my brain is working.

in the mean time, please direct as many questions as you would like in the direction of riley, teri and ana who not only are epic writers but have been an epic support system/helping me get back into things.

thank you for caring, thank you for reading...keeping up with this blog and the questions and creating constantly is sometimes challenging, but very rewarding. i promise that i am not neglecting my asks or all of you because i don't care, its actually because i care very much and only want to give you stuff that is awesome and cool and well researched. so, again, just give me a second to get my barings and while it kind of eats at my bad bpd brain i might try and share stuff with you guys that's half baked because the feedback might help.

tldr: i love you, this made no sense, i'm a mess, but i am fine.

miss you and love you. happy kyle week.

-uncle nina

[opens-up-4-nobody]

...

[appleciders]

a rising, a scab, a bright spot

Summary: Bea gets chickenpox. It’s not fun. Relationships: Ava/Beatrice Characters: Beatrice, Ava, Mary, Lilith (with a bit of Camila sprinkled in) Word Count: 12.9k A/N: originally meant to be done in time for avatrice week, because who among us can resist whumping bea. shoutout to @kchzndrvh for looking it over for me!! title from leviticus 13

read here on ao3

[coolnonsenseworld]

mezzy you can take a couple of weeks off patreon rewards i think!! ask us over there i am willing to bet everyone will be on board with letting you rest for the holidays ❤️

ThatS Like the sweetest thing anyone ever said to me!!!!!!

It's totally fine though, I hope that if anyone has a bad day, they can find a little break with some cute fictional content, it's a gift to me too <3 Both with the KICK Fridays and any other content

[mushiewrites]

Ghost of You

feeling some type of way so I made a lil fic thing based on this post of mine (it was supposed to be a drabble but my brain ran wild so here u go)

“dream daydreaming about a specific tickle scenario where he’s the lee, imagining himself getting taken apart into pieces by tickling and teasing. it’s enough to make him blush, slamming his face into his pillow with a whine and making him do little kickies against the bed”

(lee/ler!Dream - self tickles / implied ler!Sapnap : 1.5k words)

He wasn’t sure how it had started.

Dream had decided to spend the day in bed; he’d been feeling a little off the past few days and thought that maybe taking some time to relax might help pull him out of it. The blonde had gone to bed at a normal time for once the night before, trying to see if adjusting his sleep schedule would do the trick. It didn’t, but he had to admit it felt nice when he woke up at a decent time, allowing him to roam around the house alone freely while everyone else continued to sleep.

He’d fed Patches, made himself some breakfast and spent a few hours on the couch under a huge blanket, watching some random comedy movie with his fluffy companion sat in his lap. When the movie ended, Dream had expected to feel at least a little better, but he felt no improvement even though he had been giggling the whole movie. Patches had abandoned her spot on Dream’s lap halfway through the movie, returning to her bed by the fireplace for a little more warmth.

Standing up and giving Patches one last head pat, Dream made his way back up to his room to get back into bed, crawling under the huge blankets and plopping down onto the sheets below him. His eyes closed the minute the back of his head hit his pillow, willing himself to take a nap but finding it harder than he thought. After a few minutes, the man groaned and pulled out his phone from his sweatpants pocket to scroll through twitter, not really paying attention and allowing his mind to wander.

This, however, had proven to be nothing but a mistake as Dream’s thoughts began to run wild. There was a certain laugh he had made himself while watching the movie; it was squeaky, panicked and high pitched. It had startled him at the time, and it had been on his mind ever since. He figured it was because it usually was only heard during a certain activity.

A certain activity that he quickly realized he was absolutely desperate for.

Dream felt his face quickly heating up as he pictured light nails fluttering against the sides of his neck, making him break out into a flustered little smile as he brought his right shoulder up against his ear in an attempt to prevent ghost tickles - he couldn’t decide if it was terrible or delightful that they crept onto the spot anyway.

Dream brought a hand up to rub at the tingles on his neck but immediately brought his arm back down and to his side as his mind imagined a hand suddenly poking under his arm. He was squirming slightly now, the hand against his neck now pressed over his mouth in an attempt to stop a stray giggle from making an unwelcome appearance.

With his hand covering his lips, he brought his other arm to wrap around his tummy. Dream flinched when he rested his hand against the opposite side of his ribs, somehow creating little sparks of ghost tickles there as well. This time he was unable to stop the small squeak from escaping, and to his surprise he started quietly giggling. He felt his leg kick pathetically against the bed, feeling his face heat up at the out of place action his body displayed.

“Come on, nohohot the kihickies.” the blonde whined to himself, turning slightly on his side and curling his legs in towards his chest to try and prevent any more reactions from slipping passed his defenses. It would have been fine if it ended there, but of course his mind loved to play tricks on him, and so the little tingles on his ribs began spreading.

Dream let out another low whine as he turned his face and pushed it further into pillow under him, shaking his head slightly but quickly as to show his disapproval to his own thoughts. He was no longer trying to hold in his high pitched giggles, instead trying to focus all of his concentration on getting his legs to stop flinching and kicking out at every imaginary swipe of a finger. He removed the hand from his mouth and placed it upon the vulnerable ribs that weren’t covered, using both hands to try and once again rub away the ghost tickles. After a minute of this, Dream realized the tingles only grew, as well as his laughter.

It was at this point that Dream had decided to bite the bullet, allowing his hands to slowly drift from their placement over his ribs and onto his tummy, pushing slowly under his shirt and gliding nails along the warm skin there. He curled even more into himself, lips pressing together with a whimper and a quick huff of air releasing through his nose as he tried to hold himself together. Squeezing his eyes shut, he began to lightly flutter his fingertips over the sides of his tummy, every few seconds allowing his nails to scribble against the skin just to feel it jump.

Dream was fully laughing at this point - he had never gotten himself this worked up to the point where his self tickles had allowed him to laugh this freely before. Of course he wasn’t complaining - he had accidentally gotten himself into the biggest lee mood when he was actively trying to spend the day by himself. As much as he hated to admit it, at this current moment it was the best possible outcome.

So Dream continued swirling fingers around his tummy, tracing circles around his bellybutton and allowing his pointer finger to pull at the edges a bit, a technique he had become all too familiar with now that Sapnap had accidentally discovered it a few weeks prior. His body nearly convulsed at the action, kicking out more than he had anticipated and arching forward in a way that forced his finger to slip off the edge of his bellybutton and poke into a very specific (overly ticklish) spot on the side of his tummy.

The reaction was instantaneous; he let out a shriek that he quickly muffled as his hand returned to its original home over his lips, thankfully covering the high pitched laughter that would’ve been filling the room had he not stopped it. He shuddered through his laughter as the thought of Sapnap or George hearing him filled his mind, causing goosebumps to form along his skin at the embarrassing idea of one (or BOTH) of them finding him in such a flustered state.

That thought alone was enough to make him whine out through his giggles and bury his face fully into the pillow as he turned onto his tummy, stopping the self tickles and instead bringing his hands to wrap tightly around the pillow as his legs bounced against the bed with the force of his kicking. He had embarrassed himself to the point that he could feel his ears burning up; he felt the way his blush crept down his neck and onto his chest, quickly spreading over his tummy. He could practically hear his friends cooing in his mind now about how cute it was, his lee mood finally putting a face onto the ghost tickles he’d been experiencing. This embarrassed him even more, now picturing his two housemates wrecking him into oblivion. Dream groaned once more, tossing and turning against his pillows in a tiny fit of flusteredness as his brain decided on what he should do.

After much deliberation and some much needed convincing from the unapologetically lee side of his brain to the absolutely-fucking-flustered side of his brain, he knew what he had to do. He settled down into the covers on his back once more, grabbing his phone from off the blankets beside him. He ran a hand down his face as he took a deep breath, typing out a quick message and closing his eyes tightly as he hit send.

“hey sap, are you busy? ….i need your help with…something….”

Dream didn’t even have time to set his phone down when it vibrated in his hand, causing butterflies to erupt from within his stomach. His eyes widened and little bursts of frantic giggles began to pour out from him at the response.

“😈😈😈😈”

Dream began to panic, already flinging the blankets over his head as he heard the menacing footsteps grow closer and closer. He once again slapped his hands over his mouth the minute he heard his door creak open, the darkness of his room making it impossible for him to see where the smaller boy was. But once he heard Sapnap speak in his low, teasy tone, it was over for him - he was simply too lee to function. He was completely at the mercy of his younger friend.

“Ohhh Dreeeeaaam~, the tickle monster is here to plaaaay!~”

[itsnotmika]

brandon sanderson had me crying sobbing screaming for an entire year over the ending of cytonic just to bring m-bot back in chapter 2. that man is evil!

[unloneliest]

i have NOT heard about your boy jay btw… 👀

OKAY SO. well in 2009 (maybe) i had a dream of a fantasy epic and when i woke up i wrote it down immediately. and that's where the story jay exists in began. and creating its world and all the characters in it is something i've been so just. bound to doing since then. it's my biggest story these characters mean the world to me.

at this point it's a story that starts with one generation and continues with their kids, and jay is a significant character in both halves of the story, but very crucially is not chosen-one-main-character material in the way many, many other characters in this world are.

jay is. well. hmm. how do i explain jay. the thing about jay is. i love him very much. the thing about jay is.

well i'm putting this under a cut because it got long.

there comes a time when he is grieving the man he thought he'd spend the rest of his life with, alone at the edge of the desert. he's visiting the home they'd built together. they'd planned a garden, and jay's been back to plant fruit trees. and the sibling god, the deity of death/life/cycles/balance, a deity very fond of underdogs, comes to him.

they tell him that things are very wrong in the valley—the balance of things is very, very wrong, and things weren't supposed to happen this way. and the sibling god tells him he wasn't supposed to be in this story.

there's people who are: the gods choose people to act on their behalf, especially when places reach boiling points like this; there's people who are inevitably going to play a role due to the circumstances of their birth—princes, powerful magic users, children of the resistance, the list goes on. people whose lives would inevitably be touched by these grand events, even though the specifics were up to them.

the sibling god tells jay he had no such fate. that his suffering is a consequence of the unnatural imbalance: he was supposed to get to be happy, mostly. to get to have a life. and the sibling god tells jay something about the future.

jay doesn't have a fate, and he won't have a fate. and he's already done so much to better the world. he could walk away from the struggle, the center of the fight to right things, and it wouldn't be a failing on his part in any way. there's other ways he could do good. but they both know he's not going to, with how many people he loves fighting here at the heart of things. a couple of them are people with fates. one less, now.

what the sibling god tells him is that it's going to kill him someday. he's not destined to die, but he's not going to walk away from doing everything he can to change things, to make them better, even knowing it's going to kill him.

and he doesn't. and eventually, it does.

the sibling god offers jay a blessing, to counterbalance the pain of the life he's chosen. jay asks that when he dies, it's not for his son, so that his son doesn't have to live with the pain of the weight of that. this was very much so not a blessing For Jay, so the sibling god grants him—something else also, i'm workshopping what i put in in an earlier draft at this point—but this is how jay's son ends up unkiillable, chosen by the sibling god.

i just. jay is my specialest boy. he cares so much. he doesn't have to. he's not fated to. he knows it's going to kill him and that he could walk away and he knows he doesn't have to but when two the children of the monarchy the resistance has been fighting find their way to the resistance with help from jay's son he raises them too. and he loves them. even though it's their parents who're why he's grieving.

i just. what do you do with a self sacrificial protector character when they outlive the character they'd have died for because that person died to save them? what do you do when they choose to love more people so hard it changes the future and they never even get to see that future? the god of death comes to tell jay he's doomed not by fate but by his nature and through their encounters over the years jay falls a little bit in love with them.

what am i supposed to do with my boy i can't keep him from dying but he saves all his kids. i'm not sure if jay ever gets to see the trees he planted fruit, but they do.

(oh shit also i'm gonna link my jay tag on my sideblog for this story as well as the most developed relationship tag that includes him: jay / silas who is. so so doomed and dead. not the only relationship that matters with jay but the most tagged on my sideblog)

[technicolorxsn]

[graffitibible]

Tell us, Korse: do you understand what you were made for?

You were a child when your world decided that you would make a better killer than a man. Accept this fact. Internalize it. Weigh it against the number of lives you've taken. How many deaths on your conscience, when you were specifically designed not to have one? How many names must be put to the faces you have hurt before they begin to have any weight?

How long will you allow the aftershocks of the destruction you enacted to chew through the foundations of your universe before you're willing to do something about it?

You don't get to be a killer and a hero, Korse. It doesn't work that way.

But you only came to comprehend the cost when it was attached to a name and a face that you came to love.

Love is a selfish emotion, Korse. But you loved anyway.

And now you can live with the consequences.

[viaetor]

exhaustion

im sorry for throwing this here in the first place. I generally don't post vents on tumblr dot com, but I've been under so much stress lately and I just. don't have anywhere I can dump things yknow?? i don't wanna feel like a burden to my friends or as if its their responsibility.

but I've been so, so exhausted lately. but it's so hard to just *stop* or *take a break*.

currently, im working 3 part-time jobs, participating in 4 uni projects, writing my thesis, finishing up my government-funded research, completing translations, on top of having my regular classes. not to mention more work and projects ive been "invited" to accept that are still starting up and my upcoming mandatory internship. my parents have been entrusting me with more and more responsibilities regarding their physical health as seniors. but i also need to keep an eye out so that my drug addict sister doesn't do anything stupid and gets thrown out of the house again. I'm also worried about another sister of mine.

Lately i tried to distract myself by involving myself more with my friends. I've helped a few friends out with their own stuff (moving, writing, job interviews, emotional support) and ive been reconnecting with long past friendships, which is pretty neat. and it was working for a while, but im starting to get drained from even the simplest interactions.

now every time I look at my phone or get out of my room, people are calling me to ask to do stuff for them. I'm so numb to it all, I just do it automatically even when my body is sore and my brain is dead.

the worst part is that I can't quit anything. there are no vacations waiting for me, and no way I can lessen my workload more than I already have. I'm numb to it all, it's exhausting, but I feel so ashamed for even feeling tired. I feel like I have no right to feel that. I'm so used to being "reliable" and "efficient" to others that I'm not sure if I know how to Not be what people expect of me.

Ive been trying not to smoke or stress-eat and instead just hit the gym to get rid of the stress and anxiety, but even that hasn't been enough.

I want to write. I want to draw. I wanna learn languages. I wanna study. I wanna chat. But I just don't have the energy to do the things that make me feel happy and healthy. even if I'm ironically already doing some of them. I feel like an ungrateful brat. especially since I'm surrounded by so many awesome people.

I'm really lucky to have you all. I love getting your messages, seeing your posts, writing with you. I'm so happy with how I've been developing bonds with people here. thank you so much for investing in me! i really do cherish and appreciate it. I just want to apologise for seeming so distant and emotionally unavailable, not to mention how long i take to reply sometimes. to those that have been nothing but kind and patient to me, thank you from the bottom of my heart. I hope I can make it up to you!

I'm just really, really tired at the moment, and I'm not sure how to juggle through everything in my life right now. so I'm really sorry.

I wish I had dottore's skills so I could make clones of myself ngl. that'd be pretty neat