#so I decided to break it up into parts

[strangersteddierthings]

Porcelain Steve - Part 7

Part One🦇Part Two🦇Part Three🦇Part Four🦇Part Five🦇Part Six🦇Part Seven🦇Part Eight🦇Part Nine

((TW for this part; period typical slurs and internalized homophobia. Read the tags before clicking readmore if you want the details))

Steve has been a porcelain doll for seven weeks when disaster strikes.

"What is that," Jeff says, because even though the words are in an order which would suggest that it's a question, the tone of voice Jeff uses decidedly is not questioning.

"What is whaaa-AH! Nothing! It's nothing!" Eddie, who was torso deep into his closet throwing things around to find his backup amp cord, turns to look at what Jeff was talking about, and is now launching himself across his room to stand between Jeff and Porcelain Steve. Porcelain Steve, who Eddie had lain on his bed, propped slightly on a pillow, headphones carefully perched on his little head, hooked to a cassette player currently playing the first hour of last week's Top 40 countdown that Eddie had taped for him (all three hours of it, leaving out the chatter of the radio show host. He'd had to use two tapes to get it all).

"Nothing sure looks a lot like a doll in headphones, Munson," Jeff has an amazing poker face but Eddie's certain he can see a bit of judgement underneath the carefully blank expression Jeff is wearing.

"I don't know what you're talking abo- hey! Hey, no, no, don't!" Eddie tries to bodily block Jeff when he moves forward and the two end up wrestling, a match that Eddie almost wins, if not for the hazard that is his messy room. He gets Jeff walked almost to the door before he steps wrong on something, ankle rolling and sending him down sideways. He clutches at Jeff but can't make purchase and Jeff, the bastard, does fuck-all to try and catch him. Instead, Jeff leaps out of arm's length, then lunges onto the bed as Eddie collapses to his floor.

Eddie frantically tries to stand and, in his haste, ends up with his feet tangled in a pile of dirty laundry and that sends him crashing down again, this time forward onto his hands and knees, so he gives up on standing and crawls the few short feet to the bed, finally looking up to see that the damage has been done.

Jeff has picked up Steve, holding him inches from his own face, eyes squinted in suspicion. Eddie is frozen, horrified and afraid, and can't bring himself to do anything as Jeff examines Steve closely, turning him around, poking his torso, flipping him upside down to examine his shoes more thoroughly. It's only when Jeff reached for the shirt, pinching the hem of it between two fingers that Eddie kicks back into action.

He lunges up, one knee on the bed, leaning over to grab Steve and yank him from Jeff's grip. His first instinct is to throw Steve over his shoulder, out of sight out of mind mentality, but as soon as he does, he realizes his mistake and twists, lunging to catch Steve in midair. He does manage to catch Steve, but it sends him bouncing off his dresser and almost back to the floor before he manager to regain his balance, where he proceeds to cradle Steve to his chest, which is heaving from the adrenaline, wrestling match, and subsequent dive after Steve.

Jeff is giving him a concerned look but something else piques his interest; Jeff reaches over and picks up the headphones, holding them up to one ear. His face goes through every emotion a human could possibly experience in less than fifteen seconds as he listens to whatever track was at the forty-ish minute mark on the Top 40 countdown.

Slowly, Jeff lowers the headphones, letting them drop to the bed before he gives Eddie a new, more judgmental, yet infinitely more concerned, look. "Eddie. What. The fuck."

Honestly, he's not sure there's anything he can say in response.

"Why- I don't... are you okay, man?" Jeff sounds both scared for Eddie, and scared of him, at the same time.

"I'm fine," Eddie manages to squeak out.

"Eddie," Jeff says seriously, "this is not fine. This is- this is insane behavior. You know that, right?"

"I've no idea what you mean," Eddie doesn't even know what he's defending himself from but his default response to anything is to defend himself. He grips Steve tightly around the torso with one hand and then moves both his hands to be behind his back so Jeff will stop staring at Steve.

"I mean this fuckin' insane shrine you have dedicated to Steve fucking Harrington. How did you even get a doll that looks like him. Did you- did you make that?"

Fuck. Holy fuck. What can he say to defend himself here? Is there a single way for him to come out of this not sounding deranged? If he agrees, let's Jeff's drawn conclusion be the truth, then that's all but confirmation to Steve about his big fat crush, so when Steve's back to being Steve he'll never look at Eddie again. Jeff might think he needs mental help, but he'll be here for Eddie. If he tries to deny the accusation, then he'll need an explanation. He'll have to tell Jeff something that make him seem less like a creepy stalker, but what? He can't tell the truth, not without letting everyone know he's going to tell Jeff. There's a whole other secret he'd have to let out to even have a chance of Jeff believing him.

Jeff must take his silence for acceptance or guilt, because he's speaking again. "I.... man, this is not healthy. Please tell me you aren't, like, hoarding a lock of his hair or his clothes or something."

Involuntarily, damningly, his eyes dart to the closet, where several of Steve's sweaters hang from when he'd borrowed them and never returned them. And it's not like Steve doesn't have several of Eddie's own articles of clothing, like his battle vest and a few shirts. But Jeff doesn't know they easily, willingly, swap clothes, so his eyes go wide and dart towards the closet, as if he can pick out which pieces belong to Steve on sight.

Actually, he probably can.

"This really isn't what it looks like," Eddie says because he has to say something. Being silent is too incriminating.

"I don't think you're aware of what this looks like," Jeff says, wiggling himself off of Eddie's bed to stand at the foot of it. "Of all the boys in Hawkins.... I knew you liked Steve but this is.... creepy. That doll looks so much like him that I recognized it. Does Steve know you're in love with him, or is this like a way to process your crush without having to-"

"Jeff!" Eddie yells, mortified. He can feel his whole face heat up, knows he must be bright red. Because Jeff just said, out loud and for Steve to hear, the thing that Eddie very much hasn't even said out loud to himself, even if he knows how he feels deep down.

Jeff must know he's overstepped some invisible boundary he wasn't even aware of because his face immediately shows regret. He takes a step forward and Eddie takes a step back.

Immediately, Jeff stops his forward momentum. "Shit, I'm sorry, Eddie. I'm sorry."

When Eddie answers, his voice sounds like he's been eating gravel, "Just, can you go wait in the living room? I'll be right out, and we can talk, or whatever, but can you just..."

A nod, and then Jeff is gone, closing the door behind him.

With shaking hands, Eddie brings Steve back to the front of him. Looks down at him. He's not even aware he's crying until he watches his tears mark Steve's tiny polo. He can't keep holding Steve. Can't keep looking at him. Not when- not when his best friend just outed him in the worst way possible. And Eddie can't even be upset or hurt about it because Jeff didn't know. He's teased Eddie about his crushes before, and in the safety of his own room, there was no reason for Jeff to have to watch what he was saying.

Even knowing that Steve is okay with Robin, loves her anyway, without the ability to confirm that Steve doesn't hate him right now, Eddie's going to freak out. But he can't. Jeff is waiting in the living room, and the band is waiting back at Gareth's. This was just- they were supposed to just grab the amp cable and get back, a fifteen-minute job at most, and now.

Now Eddie is staring down at Steve, willing himself to not have a panic attack.

"I'm sorry, Steve. I'm so sorry. You shouldn't have heard it like that, it s-should have come from me. It should- you-I'm sorry," Eddie gently underhand throws Steve onto the center of the bed. He lands face up and Eddie sinks to the floor because he can't stand anymore, and he can't really breath.

Steve knows Eddie's a fucking faggot now, and that he wants Steve, and there's no way he'll get to keep the friendship they had before this. There's no universe in which Steve isn't creeped out by this information. There has never been an instance where a straight boy found out about his crush on them and didn't abandon him. Not always cruelly, he'll admit. He's had friends that learned and just... slid from his life with no words and no fuss. Eddie just never spoke to them again because they never came back around, but they also never outed him.

That's what will happen with him and Steve. He'll quit inviting Eddie around, or calling when he's bored, and eventually it will get to the point that Eddie only sees him at BBQ's that Joyce drags him to.

Fuck. FUCK!

He's not sure how long he's on the floor but eventually, he finds the will to get back up and resume digging through his closet to find the amp cord. It doesn't take long, he was ridiculously close to finding it earlier, it seems.

Before leaving his room, he picks back up the cassette player and headphones. Silence comes from them, so he pops the tape out before flipping it to the B side and popping it back in. He puts the headphones around Steve's head again and presses play, doing his best to not actually look at Steve. He'll just have another breakdown if he does.

He trudges out of his room, closing the door behind himself before taking the short walk to the living room, where Jeff waiting on the couch, elbows on his knees, fingers steepled under his chin, eyes faraway as he stares towards the wall in front of him.

"Hey," Eddie says, to get his attention.

"Hey," Jeff says, sitting up straight and turning towards Eddie. "I'm sorry. Whatever I did, I'm sorry."

"Why are you apologizing? I'm the fucking psycho here," he sighs, leaning sideways against the kitchen counter, arms folded across his chest, hand clutching at the amp cord just for something to ground him.

"Forget that, whatever I did, or said, or whatever, you were- when you yelled my name. You looked terrified. Of me," Jeff almost whispers the last sentence, and if not for the stark silence in the trailer, Eddie wouldn't have heard.

"Not of you, Jeff," Eddie whispers back, but his voice doesn't stay quiet because 'quiet' isn't a thing Eddie does easily or often. "Of... of myself, and these- of how I feel- I'm a goddamned faggot and now that Ste- when Steve finds out I'll lose him! Like I've lost every fucking person who ever even suspected I was a fuckin' queer!"

Silence stretches between them, enough to make Eddie fidget, dropping his crossed arms to twist the amp cord about anxiously with both his hands.

"Look, man, I don't know what's, like, the appropriate thing to say so I'm just going for the honest thing. You got me. You'll never lose me. And all those other assholes that you think you lost? You're wrong. They lost you. And if Steve Harrington is gonna be another one of those, then you aren't losing him. 'Cause he was never really in your corner to begin with."

If this were anyone else, with the exception of his uncle, he would be able to hold it together better. But it's Jeff. His best friend. Who never believed Eddie committed unspeakable horrors over Spring Break last year. Who didn't question the strange, new friends he suddenly had afterwards; who accepted as the only explanation a softly spoken 'they saved me' and that was enough. Who had said 'ok, cool' in response to Eddie telling him he was gay, years ago now, and continued trying to find out if Eddie had a secret relationship, switching girlfriend for boyfriend like it wasn't a big deal (Eddie did not have a secret relationship; his good mood that week was the result of snooping for his birthday present and finding the guitar hidden under his uncle bed).

It's Jeff. So, Eddie does the most metal, manly thing he can and bursts into tears, blindly reaching for Jeff and pulling him off the couch so he can bear hug him and sob into his shirt.

"There, there, you big baby," Jeff rubs his back soothingly, "let it out. Then pull your sorry ass together, because Gareth and Brian are going to think we died in a car crash on the way here if we take much longer."

"Ah, fuck," Eddie manager to say around the sniffling he's trying to get control of, "you're right."

"You good, though?"

"Uh, I will be."

Jeff nods and steps back. "How about this. We go to practice, and then you can come to my place tonight and we can like, hangout and talk. If that's what you want."

He's already nodding as he says, "yeah. That would be good. I- uh, I have something to do after practice, but yeah, after that I'll come over."

Eddie tosses the amp cable to Jeff after they climb into the van and head off.

Halfway there, Jeff says, "you know Gareth and Brian are in your corner, too. If you ever feel like telling them one day."

"One day," Eddie agrees, "but today has already been... a lot."

Practice goes well, with some ribbing for their tardiness allowed. If Gareth and Brian notice Eddie's been crying recently, they keep it to themselves. Which is good, because Eddie cannot handle one more thing today.

A promise to meet up with Jeff later and Eddie's back home.

Back to where he left Steve, who will be laying in silence on his bed because it's been well over two hours since he and Jeff left, and the tape only held an hours' worth of music on each side. Back to the nightmare of not knowing if Steve hates him now, or if Eddie's, and this is the most likely scenario, being a bit overdramatic.

His uncle is home, so he greets him, asks after his day, gets told dinner is Fend For Yourself Night (which just means leftovers or a TV dinner), and gets asked about Steve. Because of course he does.

"You sure he went on a vacation willingly with those parents of his, and he ain't actually kidnapped and trapped somewhere?"

That's a little bit too true. If only Wayne knew. "Well, no. I'm not sure. All I know is what he said when he left."

Wayne gives him a look. One Eddie is used to seeing, that says 'I know more than you think but I'm waiting for you to tell me' and Eddie's a little afraid of what Wayne thinks he knows. So, instead of prying that box open, Eddie just says he's tired and goes to his room.

Steve is exactly where Eddie left him.

Suddenly, without reason or logic, Eddie is angry. He's so pissed at Steve for being gone for this long. For having transformed in the first place. For not being able to assure him they'll still be friends, regardless of Eddie's stupid crush.

He snatches Steve off the bed, hand clamping around one of Steve's arms and his torso so he can hold him up with one hand. Steve's face, permanently stuck into a blank expression, looks back. Even knowing that Steve sees and hears through this thing, Eddie's so angry at the doll. If Steve hadn't been turned into this stupid thing, if Eddie wasn't so helplessly in love with him, this wouldn't have happened. Eddie could have taken his own time telling Steve, instead of hearing his deepest secret spilled easily from Jeff's lips. Instead of this not knowing what Steve is thinking, or how he feels. Is he recoiling in disgust at the fact Eddie's making him look at his face? Or is Eddie being awarded the same kindness as Robin, a quiet acceptance that won't change their friendship?

Eddie doesn't know that answer and he hates it.

He's so angry with himself because he should know better. He's forcing his own insecurities onto Steve, about acceptance and caring, when nothing Steve's done since they've become friends is prove that he'll always be Eddie's friend and not even the apocalypse could change that.

"I'm going to hang out with Jeff, so you're gonna be alone a bit longer. Or maybe I should drop you off at Robin's when I go," Eddie goes to toss Steve back on the bed when something pinches his palm. It's a startling sharp pain, quick to fade, but it's surprising enough for Eddie to let go.

Eddie watches, horrified, as he falls to the floor. He twists in the air, landing with a dull thump and cracking sound on his left arm before falling onto his back.

"Shit. Shit! Fuck, Steve, I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to," Eddie is crouched, already in the process of reaching for Steve when he freezes.

There is a crack on Steve's left arm, a line that starts above his elbow on the inside of his arm and runs down and across his arm to his hand, where Steve's pinky finger is gone. Looking slightly to the side, Eddie can see the small porcelain piece that Steve is missing laying on the ground next to him. Eddie's own hand is hovering in the air above Steve, shaking.

This can't be- how did- Eddie wracks his brain. Was the crack there already? Did Eddie cause the crack when he bounced off his dresser earlier? When did it happen? Does that fucking matter when it's Eddie who broke a piece off him? If Steve didn't hate him before, he's got to now. Eddie doesn't have time to panic about this, he's got to- El. El can talk to Steve. Find out if he's okay. What if breaking him-

Eddie launches himself up and to his dresser, grabbing at the Walkie up there. He pulls the antenna up, clicks it on and tries not to actually shout as he says, "Code Red! Code fucking Red!" He lets off the talk button, counts to seven in his head, enough time, he reasons, for someone to respond before he repeats the process. "Code Red!! Code Red!"

He repeats this process for three minutes with no response. Where the fuck is everyone!? How is he supposed to- Oh! The phone!

He tears down the hall and to the phone. He must look a right state, because Wayne looks very concerned and is halfway to standing up when Eddie gets to the phone beside him. He yanks the phone up and dials the number for the Byers-Hopper household, holding up a shaking finger to Wayne, a silent plea to give him a moment.

It rings and rings and rings before the answering machine kicks in. Eddie presses down on the disconnect button before dialing the Wheelers' number next.

"Hello?"

"Mike! Code Red! Where the fuck is everyone and why aren't they answering!?"

"What?"

"Code Red! Where's Nancy. Put Nancy on."

"Dude, slow down, what's-"

"I broke St-it. I broke it and someone needs to get El here now. Code Red does not mean ask questions, Mike! It means Code. Fucking. Red."

"Shit, shit, right! I'll get Nancy and we'll get everyone- just- we'll be there soon."

Eddie slams the phone down and has to meet his uncle's eye now.

"Eddie. What is goin' on?"

Eddie inhales a breath and can feel his lower lip quivering. "It's- can we talk about it later? I promise I'm not the one hurt, or in trouble, or- it's not me, ok. I just-"

"Yer shakin' like a leaf boy. What's got you so spooked?"

Eddie just shakes his head and flees back to his room, slamming the door shut between him and his uncle. He can't bring himself to cross the room to Steve. He slides himself down the door to sit on the floor, pulling his knees up to hug.

"I'm so sorry, Steve. I'm sorry."

[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.”

[dolokhoded]

my one season 4 complaint is Where The Fuck Was Aneesa

[thelonelynindroid]

I don't understand even slightly when people (YouTube mostly) see Brad MQ and are like 'Abed', etc etc. Like as someone who is literally rewatching community for the first time (genuinely consecutively after my first watch) and watching MQ for the first time SIMULTANEOUSLY with Abed and Brad as my favs in both respective shows, I literally cannot conceptualise them as the same person even if I try. Like if you put them in the same room I'd be like 'oh cool seems legit. How do they know each other' like. DO U GET WHAT I MEAN. i don't look at Abed ans think of Brad I don't look at Brad and think of Abed that's just how it is. AND I'M LITERALLY WATCHING THEIR SHOWS LESS THAN TWO HOURS APART FROM EACH OTHER

[cherrylng]

WOTP Dom Howard Interview [INROCK - Muse (October 2022)]

Unparalleled rock trio Muse release first new album in four years, Will of the People.

"We don't want to do a best-of album or a compilation because we're going to keep making new music."

Dominic Howard/Muse INTERVIEW: AI ANAZAWA

Muse have released their new album ‘Will of the People’, their first album in almost four years since ‘Simulation Theory’ (2018). The band has always been big on the soundscale, but this time they've pushed each of the songs to their full potential, making the rock songs harder and the ballads more dramatic, creating what might be described as the ‘strongest’ album yet. The album was self-produced without an external producer due to the Corona disaster, but as you would expect from a seasoned artist, he knows his identity and what he needs to do now. Dominic, who agreed to be interviewed by Zoom, was relaxing in the sunroom of his London home with his dog.

—I saw a picture of you at a recent festival where you were playing drums in a full face mask, is that a new image for the new album ‘Will of the People’? Dominic Howard (dr.): We start the show with ‘Will of the People’ and we also appear wearing the masks that the main characters and groups that appear on the album cover and video wear. It's the opening song.

—Oh, I thought it was hot in the summer (laughs). Dominic: (laughs). I can hardly see anything when I'm wearing that. I can barely see the drums in front of me, so I think Matt [Matthew Bellamy, vo. keys g.] and Chris [Wolstenholme, b.] have an even harder time. They'll be playing while trying to keep an eye on the fretboard. Plus, it's a full face, so it's hard to breathe. And there's a burning ‘Will of the People‘ logo right behind me, so my back is burning hot. But, you know, I'll do anything for rock‘n’roll (laughs).

“I was careful to avoid abstractions, and I was also very conscious of keeping it tight.”

—This album is especially Hard Rock, isn't it? A lot of albums made during the pandemic have been released one after another, but I have the impression that many of them are introspective because of the production environment, but this album is the complete opposite of that (laughs). Dominic: Yeah, it's a heavier, harder rock sound, less introspective… We were definitely working on some of it during the lockdown, though. I think everyone tended to be more introspective back then, and people were making music that sounded a bit more light-hearted, maybe not as bombastic as ours. Anyway, that kind of thing (introspective, light music) is not really our thing, it's more outward expression, more outlandish. Yeah, we haven't done an album as heavy as this one in a really long time.

—I read that you started this album as a response to a label proposal to release a best-of album, but why are you against the idea of ​​a greatest hits album in the first place? Dominic: Realistically speaking, best-of albums aren't what they used to be, are they? Nowadays, a person's top 10 favourite songs on Spotify are their best releases, right? Labels want to do best-of records because they want to promote the band, but we've always been against it because we feel like a best-of record is kind of the end of your career, you know (laughs). We don't want to do a best-of album or compilation because we're going to keep making new music. The labels might have come up with the idea in discussions to see if there was anything they could release during the pandemic, but we've always said no, let's make new material instead.

—I see. Matt describes the album as “best of new songs” and “a montage piece packed with the best of Muse.” Was that the band's goal or perception in the making of the album? Did you actually discuss such things? Dominic: Hahaha, we talk about it all the time. The whole time we were making it. But I don't think it was ever our concept. I'm sure Matt said that because we like the album that much and we think it's like our best album. I think he wanted to say that it's like a collection of the best parts of the band's old sound. It's got the heavy side, the pop side, the acoustic ballads like ‘Ghosts (How Can I Move On)’, it's got the best of what the band has always done. Well, whenever you're making an album, you always think: ‘This is the best album ever! Every song could be cut as a single!’ (laughs). I don't want to release it, or even finish it, unless I'm proud of it as an important representation of the band as it is now. In fact, we were very conscious of only including stuff that we felt was appropriate to be on the album. We didn't want to do anything too experimental… That's a bit of a misnomer. We were careful to avoid abstraction, to keep it to the point and concise, to know where to put the songs on the album, and to keep the production tight.

—There are only ten songs on the album. Do you have any regrets about not being able to keep it tighter on previous albums? Dominic: No, not really. When it's been a year or so since we put out an album, I do think ‘I should have done that’ or something like that, but I wouldn't really call it a regret. We've done some very experimental and abstract albums in the past, because that's what the album needed, especially the first three albums. The second album (2001's Origin of Symmetry) is longer and more experimental. I'm not saying that I want to get rid of that aspect of ourselves, I'm just saying that we've become more conscious of making tighter albums. And I've always wanted to make a 10-song album. We've had instrumental songs that made it 11 songs, so this time we decided to make an album of just 10 songs with songs on it (laughs).

—The content of the song this time is all very depressing, just a little bit… (laughs). Dominic: The lyrics (laughs)?

—Yeah. It's as realistic a fiction as you can get. Are these socio-political and environmental issues always something that comes up in the band? Or is this all about Matt's political views? Dominic: Mostly the latter (laughs). I think the surreal, political fictional world is where he's most comfortable writing. I guess it's easier to write about very personal things than to express them frankly. Of course there are parts of the album that touch on personal things, but I haven't done a lot of songs that are about personal things. Matt's style is to write about the emotions of what's going on in the world and apply them to an imaginary world. Naturally, we would talk about the topic and the direction we wanted the song to go in. But the music always comes first. Then the lyrics (by Matt) can take quite a while, but whatever idea it's based on, the three of us take it and put it into music, and eventually it's something we enjoy playing. The lyrics come after that, so it can be influenced by the vibe and feel of the song's source material.

—Oh, really? Dominic: So it's not the lyrics we talk about the most, it's the music (laughs).

—I see, the three of you live in different parts of the world. How did you make that music during the pandemic, especially during the lockdown? Dominic: It was tough. Especially in 2020, there were months when we couldn't do anything. But we still did things like exchange ideas virtually. Once we were able to get together, we started working in the studio in Los Angeles. Chris doesn't live over here, but we still had him come to LA, and when that wasn't possible, we continued working remotely. In the spring of 2021, we got together in London and we were able to work on it at Abbey Road [Studios]. It was a lot of work, but we found a way to work not only on music, but also on these things (Zoom interviews), and also on business, virtually, without having to move from place to place, didn't we? I think it's actually become more convenient for a lot of people.

—Did you produce this album yourselves because of the restrictions of the Corona Disaster? Or was it a reaction to the fact that your last album, ‘Simulation Theory’, involved a lot of producers? Dominic: It was probably both. It was a pandemic, so from the beginning Matt and I were in the studio alone, trying out different ideas, and we were comfortable with that. Then Aleks (von Korff), the engineer, joined us in the studio and the three of us were in what you might call a bubble (laughs). Of course we had to take coronavirus checks every now and then and be careful while working, but we got comfortable in that situation, and it felt different to invite other people in there. It would be a lot of work to bring someone else in. And we like production work too. We've always co-produced, even when we've had a producer, and we rather like the time-consuming, detailed work.

—Please tell me how did you decide to end the album on a hopeless note with ‘We Are Fucking Fucked’ (laughs)? Dominic: It's interesting to hear other people say the title of this song (laughs). It was the only song we had at the end of the album. If we'd put ‘Fucking Fucked’ anywhere else, it would have given the piece a weird vibe. It's a sarcastic, depressing type of song, after all (laughs). So I think it was right to put it at the end. At first I was thinking of putting ‘Verona’ at the end. That song has a fantastic, relaxed, outro-like feel to it. But I still think ‘Fucking Fucked’ is the right one.

—Which is your favourite song of the day? Dominic: It's hard to pick just one song, I feel bad for the others (laughs).

—Let's limit it to this morning's then (laughs). Dominic: Well, we've been playing ‘Kill or Be Killed’ live recently and it's a lot of fun to play live. Maybe there's a heaviness to it that we haven't ventured into before? It's pretty metal. And I really like ‘Won't Stand Down’. When we were working on the album, I was telling Matt that every song had to make the listener feel something, and we had to make the songs make us feel something, and he asked me what I meant, and I said that sometimes when we listen to our past albums… I actually listened to all our previous albums before we started making this album. Some of them were okay, some of them were a little bit terrible, but they still conveyed what we were feeling at the time. So I had a strong feeling that every song on this album had to make me feel something. ‘Kill or Be Killed‘, when you get into the chorus, it makes you feel it. I like everything else on the record apart from those two songs. And ‘Liberation’ is a lot of fun to play. We haven't done a piano song like that for a while. Is it reminiscent of ‘United States of Eurasia’ (2009's “The Resistance”)?

“What I really want to do is to go around to different sized venues here and there and stay in Japan for two or three weeks.”

—I also like ’You Make Me Feel Like It's Halloween’. And it touches on the serious issue of domestic violence. Dominic: Yes, it does. It's a very fun song, but the lyrics actually touch on emotional abuse in the home. It's the same with ‘Won't Stand Down’. We know people who have been through that, and it's a very real issue that sometimes people don't realise they're going through it. It's such a serious thing with a very pop sound.

—Will you be touring the world after a few shows in the UK in October? Dominic: Yeah, we'll play some smaller theatres in the UK in October and then maybe next year we'll tour overseas, including Japan. We really want to go to Japan. What I'd really like to do is spend two or three weeks in Japan, doing a few more shows here and there at different venues of different sizes. The last few times I've been here, I've been limited to a few cities due to time, schedule and production. Sometimes you have to sacrifice the creative side and the fun side of it.

—You have the authority to do what you really want to do, so by all means make it happen. Dominic: Well, yeah (laughs). Anyway, we'll find a time when it's possible and we'll try to fit it into the schedule.

—By the way, there is a sign of a dog from earlier. Dominic: This is Olive, a Boston terrier (he says, showing me the dog stretched out and relaxed in front of him). He's very clever. Where's Floyd? Maybe he's upstairs. They're both very clever.

—Who's going to look after them while you're away from home? Dominic: Actually, I tend to take them with me. Olive is just over a year old and I only got her last year, so she's not ready yet, but Floyd has been all over the place, he's been on a tour of America with me, he's been in Europe. He loves it. He's always happy to play with all kinds of people backstage. Olive likes people too. When the show is over, she jumps in the car and goes to the hotel with me, and every night when she gets into her new hotel room, she jumps up on the bed with great joy (laughs). So I take her with me when I can, otherwise I ask family or friends.

Recorded on 20th July, 2022 in London.

Translator’s Notes: If you’ve noticed it, then you might’ve wondered why the Japanese journalist and the article itself doesn’t use the words “Covid-19” and “pandemic” (other than Dom himself). As I’m not a Japanese native, I don’t fully know the answer either, but I did pay attention to Japanese news over the years to pick up on information. In Japan, the government and the people do know and use the word COVID-19, but unfortunately the name that COVID-19 took in Japan was this: 新型コロナウイルス感染症 / Shingata Coronavirus Kansenshou / new coronavirus infection.

As you can see, that is a whole mouthful that no one has the time to say all of that out loud -even including the word Covid-19 itself- so they shortened it to just using ‘コロナウイルス / Coronavirus’ and ‘コロナ / Corona’ instead.

So I got used to seeing that whenever an artist or celebrity in Japan was confirmed infected by Covid and had to cancel events, they just announce on their blogs and on X [formerly known as Twitter] that they got Corona. And some of these words became familiar to me as well.

コロナ禍 / Korona-ka = Corona Disaster / Covid-19 Pandemic コロナ緊急事態 / Korona kinkyuu jitai = Corona Emergency / Lockdown

BTW, I wasn't sure what Dom's other dog's name was. I know of Floyd, but I can't remember the second dog's name. Was it Olive or Oliver?

[tennessoui]

november ko-fi fic upload!

hello hello I feel like I am ~a little late, but I come bearing about 6k of a body swap au fic. there's no tumblr tag for this one unfortunately, but after like three years in this fandom i really wanted to try my hand at one of my favorite tropes

in this body swap au, they switch bodies during the aotc wedding between padmé and anakin which is so dramatic of them lmao and also so very messy

I just posted the link to it on my ko-fi! here is a little teaser of one of my favorite parts:

A commlink trills into the heavy silence.  It’s Anakin’s comm.  Obi-Wan reaches into his belt and pulls out the machine between one second and the next. “You’ve kept your commlink on?” The senator sounds confused, hurt, and offended. Obi-Wan knows he should have more empathy in his heart for her, but it is incredibly difficult. He flicks it open. Master calling, the display reads. “Yes, I did,” Obi-Wan snaps. “The galaxy is on the edge of breaking out into a war, Se—Padmé. I can’t ignore that when the Jedi could need me at any minute. As a senator, you should understand.” She recoils as if he has struck her, and he knows he should be ashamed. He knows he should soften his tone and spool the words back into a tight knot in his chest, but he cannot.  And a part of him thinks he is right. 

as a refresher, the way these ko-fi uploads work is:

Monthly supporters will be able to go into the gallery tab on my ko-fi and click on an uploaded image. The title of the image will be which au the ficlet fits into and how many words it is. The description beneath the image will be a quick summary of the au and a link to the google doc containing the ficlet. The “root” au post, aka the post that started the au on my blog, will be linked as well on that google doc

(though this one doesn't have a root post cause it was written sort of just on a lark)

[torgawl]

i think what hits most about nobara's backstory is everything that's left unsaid and peaks from between the lines. it's the fact you can easily infer that something was wrong without ever having clear answers on what exactly was wrong. but if you can relate to the feeling of wanting to escape a place and the alienation from everyone around you, especially when you're brought up in small communities, then you can certainly understand, if not fully then partially, nobara herself and the struggles she might have had to face all by herself for a very long time; maybe even the importance fumi and saori had in her life and the pain from having to part from them; and, perhaps the selectiveness in letting people in that she later on develops as well.

[mcybree]

yknow every once in a while I go wow I really am insane… third life was nothing like that to the average person what a strange hill to die on… And then I remember the whittle him down to nothing clip and I go ah never mind I’m right forever and something is seriously wrong with him

[sysig]

Getting closer, getting really close now I swear (Patreon)

[candied-cae]

I am super fucking pissed about Wee John in this last episode.

Why. The. Fuck. Was. He. Not. Included. AT. ALL. During. The. Escape??????????

Legitimately, where the fuck was he? I was fuming for a lot of that because he's my favorite character, so I was looking for him. While everyone was stripping the English of their uniforms and getting dressed up (at least partially) in disguise, he is the only character not included.

They make a point about Fang not getting a proper shirt, which already pissed me off enough, that he had to wear what was essentially prison stripes while everyone else was in uniform, but Wee John wasn't even there. He wasn't in the raid. He wasn't in the run down the beach.

He just wasn't even fucking there. And if it was something Kristian decided he didn't want to worry about hurting himself over, particularly looking out for his back and knees, I understand not asking him to run over and over again for reshoots. But the fact that he didn't even get dressed with them... and that's the second time he's been excluded from a plan apparently due to his size (remember that he didn't get to participate when The Revenge dressed up as rich boys for Nigel Badminton)...

It is legitimately breaking my heart. One of the things I love about this show is the love is gives to its fat characters and actors. Fang gets to have his tummy out 24/7 and he's treated like a snack by Lucius, Wee John got to have an incredible dress, Oluwande is the crew's most eligible bachelor, and we even got a delightful fat character in 2x07 who spent his whole time dressed in only some leather halters and pants...

But the fact that Wee John was singled out and left behind, and the fact that Fang was singled out and othered at that very same time... It fucking hurts. As a fat person who has loved getting to see so much love for fat bodies... it stung to see that the comedy couldn't even suspend its reality long enough to say "there are a few fat people in the Royal English Navy, so Wee John and Fang get to be dressed up too."

[demonbarbers]

i can never bring myself to care that annaleigh’s lovett accent is bad. the english people do not deserve respect.

[void-and-virtue]

Writing fanfic is so dangerous bc whenever I see the name ‘Seth Gordon’ now, my brain just goes “SETH!! My man!!! My dude!!! Allison and Renee’s platonic husband!!!!” And then I have to take a moment of silence as I remember that oh. Oh, in canon, he is first an asshole and then dead

[cerealbishh]

"I can't leave, Maria."

"I understand."

[whisperprime]

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8

Hob isn’t certain what Dream has cooked up in that pretty little head of his when it comes to theories about what happened, but he can tell this response wasn’t even on his list.

“2189?”

He sounds carefully reserved. The fact that he doesn't outright disbelieve such a thing might be possible leaves the once mortal human with some serious questions.

But those are for a later time.

Right now, Hob nods. He had long since decided that if questioned about this, he would tell as much of the truth as he felt he could. He would explain the meeting with The Other Man, the seal, maybe even where and how he’d spent those 106 years.

He would not share that Dream had been the being who'd been originally summoned. Nor would he mention Dream’s death. There was no point in either. One hadn’t happened in this timeline. One hadn’t happened yet and dwelling on it would do no good. So.

Hob presses his hands into his thighs to still them. “I was sitting in The New Inn when a stranger approached me.” He smiles, some true amusement leaking in. “Seems to be the story of my life.”

Dream has narrowed his eyes at him, searching his face for any tells that this is all a fabrication. He won’t find one because Hob is all too serious. “In the year 2189?” When he finds no lie, that at the least the story teller believes this all to be true, Dream leans forward. “Are you proposing you've time traveled?”

The immortal human wishes he were more into science fiction, because this was already a bit over his head and trying to explain this to someone else feels like a task. He can still barely believe it all. And he lived it. “Sort of? He called it ‘destroying a timeline’?”

“He?”

Hob spreads his hands out, a bit helpless here. "Did I mention that story is filled with mysterious strangers who often fail to mention their names?"

His friend ignores the slight, raising his hand, but it seems more to stop himself from continuing this particular thread of inquiry. "I interrupted. Please begin again from this 'New Inn'."

Hearing the name of what had become such a dear place to them both said without shread warmth or recognition hurt like swallowing shards of glass. One felt like it had lodged in place in his chest and Hob has to resist the urge to rub at it.

"I initially told him I wanted to be alone, but then he knew my name - my real name," Hob still remembers the chill of hearing his name on the lips of someone other than his friend, especially at a time no one was supposed to know it. "He said it was important, so I gave him a chance. Better to know if I was going to have trouble and needed to leave, you know?"

Dream give a curt nod, showing he understands.

Hob swallows and wishes he'd remembered to bring a drink with him. "Then he started talking about how he shouldn't have existed, but did? And it was because of the premature end of the universe or something?" He pauses, then scoffs. His eyes drops to the table as he tries to remember as much of the encounter as he could. Wishes he'd understood what was said more. "I thought he was nuts, honestly, especially when he started talking about time travel, but. Well." He shrugs, again. "He had a compelling arguement."

Dream considers this. Hob is a little surprised he is even entertaining all of this. "What did he want you to change?"

Hob considers his options. "Have you heard of a Gabriel Richards?"

His friend gets a bit of a far away look to him and Hob wonders how well the whole knowing everyone thing actually works. It takes a moment or two, but Dream comes back with, "He is known for discovering gialium. His daughter discovered how to use it as a cleaner, more safe energy source to any previous resource."

"Huh." Hob has never heard of 'gialium' before, but a safer energy resource is always good. He isn't certain how this element not being discovered could possibly lead to the end of the universe, but then The Other Man had said it was a chain reaction sort of thing. He gestured to Dream to indicate that this was the answer and added, "He said Richards was supposed to do something but didn't. Now he has."

Dream raises an eyebrow, but doesn't look satisfied with this at all.

"Look, I don't know how to prove it any of this-" He breaks off, because he does know how to prove it. He's just unsure how this version of his friend will respond to such a Knowing if simply calling him lonely had been enough to send him running. When he hadn't had every bit of solitude he could ask for until it choked him before he came back.

"I've seen Death," Hob says, quotes. Can see Dream recognizing the reference and waiting to see where he's taking this.

Sees when he decides to bite. "Oh?"

Hob stares off just to the right of him, the memory still bright in his mind in the way a beloved photo that has been looked at time and again is remembered. He can still hear the laughter of his friends, even if he can't remember their faces. Still remembers this beautiful stranger, dressed all in black save his insanely large ruby, approaching their table. Remembers him glancing at someone, although by the time Hob had thought to look, they'd been gone.

"She was there with you the day we met." Hob catches the slight flicker of surprise out of the corner of his eye. Knows he's caught him this time. "It was her doing that granted me this long life. Her and your bet over if I would give up on this life if I had enough to drown in it." His eyes flicker back to meet Dream's eyes. Says, albeit not unkindly, "She was the one who bet I wouldn't."

Dream takes the hit. Accepts it and nods in acquiescence. He had indeed lost that bet. Several times over. Had only asked at the time of their parting those last few times because it had become part of their ritual.

Hob takes the victory and let's go of it along any pride he may have gained in it. "I met her a couple more times in that other timeline." He's unsure, but he thinks he might see some like alarm flash in those blue eyes, but it's gone before he can be sure. "Once at one of those horrid Ren Fests and again while she was mortal?" Hob pauses, wonders, "Is that something you all do? She made it sound like it was just a thing she does."

Dream leans back on the couch. He clearly finds that subject to be one he has difficulty with, going by how he sounds like he is choosing his words carefully. "Every one hundred years, for one day, she allows a part of her to become mortal and then meets it like any other mortal being. To better understand them when she comes to meet them."

That clocks with what she'd said. Figures she couldn't have just explained it like that. Or maybe she had and Hob and been a little too wigged out by spending time with a mortal Death of the Endless (or a part of her) to catch it. Either way.

Hob shifts, braces himself as if he were about to walk into a storm. "I know you're her little brother."

His friend-who-isn't-his-friend stares back at him out of eyes that were no longer blue, but rather as dark as the night sky, light only by galaxies no human has ever seen. "You would claim to known me, Hob Gadling?" Hob hears the words, you dare, from that night in 1889 as they lay between them, unspoken, but a heavy weight regardless. Did Hob dare to claim he knew any creature such as this one?

Yes. Hob dared. He'd dared that night and every day he'd held to his hope with near blind faith where perhaps he should not have.

"Aye, I know you." Hob meets that gaze, holds it, and names him, "Dream of the Endless."

Dream shudders, lightly, at the sound of his true name. All doubt has vanished from his expression, but what has it cost Hob to play this card?

Part 9

[regallibellbright]

In “huh decisions were made here:”

The sitting chibi plush of Mr. Mew, which is clearly small enough to fit in your hand, costs more even on sale than the 16 inch “big” plush.

… The thing is, since I DO have the TWEWY kids not-too-far on the list (or at least the first round of them - I’m thinking I’ll probably do other projects in between,) I plan to make a Mr. Mew with them. Just, you know, a little bitty one sized for little plush Shiki, not a Mr. Mew in his own right scaled for humans.

… It would be funny to pose that eventual Shiki with a Kaiju Mr. Mew.

[silentspectres]

I would like to know about your disaster tiefling! Backstory, current romance, what drives them, anything youd be excited to share!

thank you for indulging me! I cannot express enough that I am like a vampire in that I have to be explicitly invited to do something, so I'm grateful

This is my disaster tiefling Mercury, they're a mephistopheles tiefling rogue (assassin specifically) and they're allergic to making wise decisions

I have a hard time grabbing good screenshots from my console sometimes so a few of these are Crunchy™ but I genuinely love the range of lighting the game has that makes them go from somewhat well-adjusted looking to mostly just glowing eyes. I'll put the rest about them under a read more!

Mercury usually sticks to decisions that will benefit themself or their friends above all else (and usually not through honest means), but they've been known to freely help children with no clear end gain. They had a great time around Mattis, the tiefling child, out-conning him. It's probably the closest to playful their group has come to seeing them be playful (save around Scratch/the Owlbear), since Mercury was using it as an opprotunity to teach the kid rogue techniques that would benefit him later from someone who's been at it for quite some time. It'd be cute if they weren't such an awful influence

Mercury's backstory is admittedly not something I've been able to work out past large overtones or some general character defining events, but they're a character that likes to keep their privacy and hold things that matter to them close, so I think it works out in the long run. They were fiery and loudly defiant against the world and its cruelty when they were younger, but as they grew older and realized that the only person they could rely on was themself, they grew more cunning, quiet, carefully composed, and discarded the intense emotions that once drove them. This change most likely came from being used + discarded by a disguised devil, and they have an extreme discomfort and distrust for devils or the Infernal as a result

I like to call Mercury a mirror - they're a reflection of the general harshness the city had on them (being a scrappy tiefling with nowhere to call home), but once they're surrounded by people who offer them kindness (Wyll/Karlach/Gale particularly being huge influences) they actually almost habitually return kindness + favors to the small group close to them. Their friends are one of the only noted exceptions, though; they still don't really do great in the empathy department otherwise

I could write several pages about Mercury's romance, BUT I'll try not to ramble too long (narrator voice: this was a lie). Mercury is romancing (spawn) Astarion + their dynamic drives me up the WALL. The two of them had a weird push and pull to their early relationship - Mercury was well familiar with the song and dance Astarion was performing when he targeted them and knew he certainly had ulterior motives, but they... truthfully, between the empty meaningless void that had become their existence and the inevitable certain death they would now be facing as a result of being tadpoled, and the fact that they could never remember a single moment in their life in which they were wanted (let alone desired by someone), they didn't care. So they let him use them and they played along as coyly as he did, fully aware that the more that they got involved with him or the others the higher the chance they might end up walking away caring. Which, unfortunately, happened.

A lot of factors contributed to changing Mercury's apathy toward the group and ultimately swayed the change to caring romantically about Astarion, almost none of which was even Astarion's doing himself. It started with Wyll, who was always kind and selfless without a second thought, who willingly chose to risk losing everything against Mizora because he'd rather stand by Karlach. And Karlach herself was easy to get along with - she cared deeply and loudly about those around her and wasted no time or consideration into treating Mercury with the same warmth as she did the others. Gale, maybe surprisingly, was the ultimate catalyst, though. He had formerly been a wizard Mercury kept at the same distance as everyone, one of the companions Mercury actually thought less often about despite traveling with him among the most, before they met Elminster along the roads to the Shadow Cursed lands. Mercury is hard to sway, but a goddess telling her most devoted follower that he only stands to make something meaningful of himself by killing himself ignited some long since extinguished anger in them - anger at the gods, anger at the world, anger at the shitty hands they and these people they're around were dealt - and Mercury drunk themself to sleep that night following the realization that fuck, this anger in place of apathy meant they cared. Astarion was next to show them a little vulnerability by letting them read his scars to him (and it drives me insane thinking about the level of trust he would've reasonably have had to have in them to turn his bare back to another rogue), revealing that he is only one part of an unknown whole, and that that unknown whole could very well be an Infernal pact. And so it goes - suddenly, Mercury was in over their head. Suddenly, they cared.

They both end up stumbling through figuring what a relationship (and even the full scope of what either of them truly want) means later, when they're both forced to face the fact whatever was between them is now real (and dangerous, Mercury reasons, because to admit they want to care and be alive means they have to invite back in all the hurt it could bring - hurt they're intimately familiar with - but they can't deny that what they have is nice.) Mercury is very much a deeply touch starved person, so they offer Astarion a lot of small, quiet moments of physical intimacy like leaning against him in camp, resting their hands on his, soft touches against his face to brush against his hair, stuff that, in general, he probably has no lasting memories of ever having. In turn, Astarion offers them a quiet sanctuary - a gentle reminder - that they have others they can lean on and rely on and that they don't have to bear their burdens alone. There's a lot of push and pull in this stage of their relationship, too, but it's less about a game they're performing and more about learning boundaries, limits, and the depths that they're both willing to admit to themselves about whatever it is they have.

By act 3, Mercury has no doubts about where Astarion stands to them, and truthfully I don't think Astarion does about Mercury either, but it's a bit harder for him to think about with certain looming disaster hanging over his head. Reasonably. He sort of lashes out the closer they get to dealing with the inevitable, not in the way he's harsh, but in the sort of defensive "I feel like a cornered animal so I'm reverting back to trying to pull the strings (new strings at that!) to use/manipulate you into doing what (I think) I want because I genuinely can't believe in a kinder future for myself" sort of way. Mercury by this point can see right through him and offers a constant, steady pressure by always pointing out "If you do this, you'll have to do a lot of difficult things, are you sure you're prepared to do that?" and by the point of the crypts, it's clear he'd be really fucked up by carrying through with it now that he's had to come face to face with both what he's done and what he stands to become by taking Cazador's power, especially after finding the scroll about the other vampire masters. So Mercury stands firm and becomes his reminder that things don't have to end in bloodshed, lashing out, and bared teeth - a lesson Mercury themself was taught by the kindness (a kindness they had always lacked) their companions (now friends) never gave up on. Their relationship is stronger for it and they're genuinely good influences on each other (somehow, Astarion has become some sembalance of the voice of reason and is a good 90% of the reason Mercury has stopped doing things with no regard to their own self preservation now) and they're both extremely well adjusted partners despite the so many issues both of them have. Who would've thought the local pair of murderers are an exceptionally sweet couple???

I have rambled for far too long and I have a thousand more things I could say about Mercury but I'll spare you because it is very early in the morning, but thank you for letting me speak a little about them!! I have a playlist and a pinterest for them if anyone is seriously further curious about them and my inbox is always open for more questions but I must sleep for now