#world building week

[saturdaysky]

a little morning pick-me-up

-

A morning on the way to Baldur's Gate. The party booked themselves into an inn and enjoyed real beds, hot baths, and privacy for the first time since the Nautiloid.

Gale and Mayhew shared a room, of course. They were filled with the relief of surviving the shadows and the glow of finally getting together, so their private room was probably a blessing for the whole party, honestly.

-

This was some ascended anatomy practice! Referenced some great stock from @null-entity.

[iirulancorrino]

The Green brothers are doing effective altruism better than maybe 95% of people who identify online as effective altruists.

[other-peoples-coats]

Thinking about building regulations on coruscant (do not do this)(there is something wrong with me)

and like, ok, so there has to be a level of straight up 'you literally cannot bribe someone enough to let you [build like this]', if only because the industrial scale disaster of one of those one squillion story high buildings coming down and taking out like. So Many fancy rich people and also more poors than god, and also fucking up the traffic for a whole planet makes it like...y'know? historically there 100% were Incidents, at this point probably there's enough regulations that you can't get away with Structurally Unsound (like will collapse) building, at all.

BUT! that is really only a baby limit. if it won't collapse and kill a medium planet level of people, you're good to go if you grease the right palms.

Secret rooms that aren't on the plans? pah, please, try whole ass levels and wings of the building. Private hoverlift listed as a 'maintenance duct'? private fucking speeder landing pad (for 12 speeders) listed as a decorative window topper. Zoned for light industrial only? go down a couple levels, and guess what, full scale steelworks is light industrial if you put in a couple of filters!

but also, like, and I'm thinking here specifically of the walkie scorchie and other buildings like that, how many buildings on coruscant are like. technically sound, but also just straight up vaporise you if you walk past them at the wrong time of year. or make you into paste if the wind blows wrong. Star wars doesn't believe in guard rails, except coruscant, because the number of rich people getting literally blown off the side of a level and into the center of a planet was getting too high.

[sofiaruelle]

Sooooo the last few days i’ve been seeing stars and suddenly i’m juggling 6 sorcerer boyfriends. Whats a polar bear to do?

Also this is my MC, 🍨✨ Sorbetes ✨🍨.

Context why my MC is a sentient polar bear.

The MC doesn't have a set appearance and then there was this dialogue. And the emotes are polar bear themed 😂😂😂 is also literally its own spoiler

[gottestod-writes]

somebody stop me, I'm about to reinvent the week (world building), and that's really not useful for anything!

[jellazticious]

New oc reveal and these guys are in shared custody with @beefy-the-stronk

All you need to know so far is that the human on the left got cursed by the fairy on the right so the logical course of action is to become roommates with him

They are also being chased by guards/cops all the time

Character set and story will be tagged under "Cursed to Charm" from this point onward

[morroodle]

EHEHEEHEHEHEHEEHEH

[mint-termsandconditions]

Rope MF Loses Track of Time

Day time:

Afternoon:

Nighttime:

Song credit:

[pinacoladamatata]

:: fire + water :: they get along like fire and water. slowly making my way through the prompts and developing a headcanon that raava hates water 😂 maybe she's clutching him protectively because there's an oncoming wave

[duskyashe]

NaNoWriMo Day #14

[masterlist] [part one]

Trigger warning: depiction of a dissociative episode, misconception concerning the sentience and sapience of a being. Warning for Jason's language and use is Zalgo text

=============‹«⟨∞∆∞⟩»›=============

Jason was... Well, he was a lot of things, but terrified was near the top of the list. He'd seen and experienced a lot of crazy shit since trying to steal the tires off the batmobile, including his own death and revival, but having control of his body forcefully taken from him by what he could only assume was the Lazarus Pit was by far the most insane and terrifying thing he'd ever experienced. Not even the Joker had made him feel this hopeless, he'd still been able to run his mouth then, but this? This was like sitting in the driver's seat of a high-tech hyper realistic RC car, frantically stepping on all the pedals, pressing all the buttons, flicking all the switches, and trying with all your might to crank the steering wheel, and all of it doing jack shit. You're stuck watching out the windshield as the car goes flying across the haphazard track, your seatbelt is locked, the doors don't even open from the inside, and nothing you do makes a damn difference as someone else takes you for a joyride.

Of course, he's the fucking Red Hood, he wasn't gonna let the Pit just do whatever the fuck it wants, hell no! He'd successfully fought the thing off during the height of his pit madness and homicidal tendencies, there was no fucking way he was gonna let the Pit use him to murder a kid!

"W̸e̷ ̴d̷o̴ ̵n̵o̵t̷ ̵m̸u̵r̷d̴e̵r̶ ̵c̵h̴i̸l̸d̶r̷e̵n̶!̷" Came a voice from inside his head. It was unlike anything he'd ever heard, like a gestalt of different voices from all different walks of life. Time seemed to be endlessly slow as he/it/they screeched a war cry and took off.

"Oh yeah? Why the fuck are we charging the kid, then?!" Jason yelled back. It was weird, his voice was both echoey and soundless at the same time. He didn't like it.

"H̸e̶ ̴i̵s̶ ̴c̶h̴i̷l̷d̶/̸i̶n̶f̴a̸n̴t̵/̵l̸o̴n̴e̷l̴y̷/̴k̷i̸n̸g̷.̵ ̵H̴e̴ ̶i̷s̴ ̶U̸n̵C̸l̶a̵i̸m̸e̶d̶.̶ ̵H̴e̶ ̸i̶s̶ ̵O̶u̵r̷s̷ ̸n̵o̷w̴.̴" As the Pit said that, Jason watched through green tinted vision as the Pit disarmed the goon, extracted the kid, and outright threw the goon into the wall to the side of them. As soon as the goon was out of the way, the Pit adjusted the kid so they were cradling him, and suddenly Jason was drowning in overwhelmingly foreign feelings of comfort/safety/claimed/calm/peace/safe as distinctly nonhuman sounds came from their mouth.

He'd like to say he'd managed to claw his way out from under the flood of emotion by himself, but that'd be a lie, and he tried not to lie to himself too often. It was the sound of a sudden, sharp, almost adorable little frustrated chirp the kid let out that let him breach the surface and actually think again. "What the hell was that?" Jason asked. If his consciousness needed to breathe, he'd be gasping right about then.

"H̴e̷ ̸w̵a̶s̷ ̵p̶a̵n̵i̷c̵k̶i̷n̵g̵.̶ ̵W̵e̸ ̴r̶e̸s̵p̵o̷n̵d̶e̸d̴ ̴a̵p̶p̶r̶o̶p̴r̸i̶a̷t̵e̷l̵y̵.̸ ̷W̸e̷ ̸a̸p̷o̶l̸o̶g̵i̶z̶e̴ ̶f̷o̵r̷ ̷s̸m̴o̴t̴h̸e̵r̵i̷n̷g̸ ̴a̶ ̶p̴a̷r̸t̷ ̵o̸f̴ ̸U̴s̷.̵" The Pit sounded genuinely apologetic, but he wasn't sure he trusted it. Their head turned and Jason saw the rest of the Bats arrayed in wary stances, with Damian taking the lead. He said something about wanting to check on the kid in their arms, but that they could keep hold of him. He could see how much B wanted to protest that, but a sharp gesture from the kid silenced that Bat. "W̴e̴ ̵d̸o̵ ̷n̶o̶t̶ ̷k̷n̵o̷w̷ ̶t̵h̸e̸ ̶o̷n̷e̶s̵ ̶b̵e̶h̶i̴n̶d̷ ̴u̵s̵.̴ ̸A̸ ̶p̵a̶r̵t̴ ̷o̸f̴ ̶U̴s̸ ̵d̷o̵e̴s̶.̸ ̷C̶a̷n̷ ̷W̴e̷ ̷t̸r̶u̶s̵t̸ ̴O̵u̶r̷s̶ ̴w̵i̴t̸h̵ ̴t̸h̵e̴m̵?̸"

Jason thought about the question for a bit. He was fairly certain, as long as Damian was the one taking the lead, they'd be fine. Since Bruce was letting the kid take point, Tim was more likely to follow along, and Dick would only jump the gun if the kid looked injured or terrified out of his mind, which he was neither. In fact, the kid was making some of the cutest fucking noises he'd ever heard, nevermind they didn't have any right coming from a very human looking kid. "We should be good, so long as the baby bird is in control, he seems to grasp the situation better than the rest," he finally replied.

"V̶e̸r̴y̸ ̵w̵e̴l̸l̶.̸ ̸W̶e̸ ̸w̷i̶l̴l̷ ̴t̵r̵u̷s̶t̷ ̷t̷h̵e̵ ̶B̸a̴b̵y̶ ̶B̵i̶r̶d̵,̵ ̶a̸s̷ ̴p̶a̶r̵t̵ ̷o̶f̷ ̸U̶s̴ ̵c̶a̸l̴l̴s̵ ̶H̷i̵m̶.̸" They slowly turned around, the kid held protectively within their arms, though visible enough for the Bats to be able to determine he was okay.

They all stared at each other, waiting for someone to make the first move. Jason was getting ready to make a sarcastic comment about the stalemate when the kid spoke up. "Hey, so, uh, I'm Danny, it's nice to meet you all."

Oh shit. How could a teenager be so adorable? "I have never thought of a kid as adorable, what the fuck?"

"H̴e̴ ̷i̵s̷ ̸O̵u̶r̸s̵.̵ ̶H̵e̴ ̶i̸s̶ ̶C̶l̷a̶i̴m̶e̵d̷ ̷b̵y̸ ̵U̴s̶.̴ ̵H̵e̶ ̶w̶i̴l̸l̶ ̶a̶l̷w̸a̷y̸s̶ ̶b̸e̴ ̷a̴d̶o̴r̷a̶b̸l̵e̵ ̷t̵o̶ ̶U̸s̴,̸ ̵e̴v̴e̵n̷ ̶t̶o̶ ̴a̷ ̵p̴a̶r̸t̸ ̷o̷f̴ ̵U̸s̸ ̵t̸h̵a̵t̸ ̸i̷s̶ ̷n̵o̶t̴ ̶o̷f̷ ̶U̶s̴.̴"

Wait. "Did you adopt him? What if he has parents! We can't just adopt random kids!"

"W̴e̶ ̵d̶i̴d̴ ̶n̴o̶t̶ ̷s̴e̵e̸ ̷a̸n̴y̷ ̴P̶a̴r̶e̶n̷t̸s̴.̴ ̷W̴e̵ ̸o̸n̷l̷y̷ ̴s̵a̷w̷ ̷H̶i̸m̴.̶ ̶H̵e̶ ̴w̴a̴s̴ ̴U̵n̴C̷l̸a̷i̸m̵e̴d̸,̵ ̷n̷o̷w̵ ̶H̸e̵ ̷i̶s̵ ̸C̶l̷a̴i̷m̸e̸d̶.̷ ̶I̷t̵ ̵i̵s̷ ̴f̴a̴i̵r̶.̶" The Pit was being far too cheeky. It was like the Pit was saying "finders keepers losers weepers". Jason... Wasn't sure how he felt about that, honestly. "A̷n̷d̸ ̷H̸e̵ ̷i̸s̷ ̴n̵o̴t̴ ̴r̷a̴n̶d̶o̴m̴.̸ ̶H̴e̷ ̷i̶s̵ ̸k̸i̸n̷g̵.̶"

Wait, wait, nope, he had to have heard that wrong. "Hold the fucking phone, are you saying he's some kind of royalty? Of what government? His accent sounds Midwestern!"

"H̸e̵ ̷i̴s̴ ̶H̷i̶g̷h̵ ̴K̷i̴n̸g̶ ̸o̶f̷ ̵t̶h̸e̶ ̴I̴n̶f̷i̶n̵i̶t̷e̴ ̶R̴e̶a̸l̶m̸s̷.̵ ̶H̷e̷ ̸i̵s̵ ̴G̵h̵o̴s̵t̸ ̸K̴i̶n̴g̴.̶" The tone with which the Pit spoke of Danny was complicated, though pride and seriousness were prominent. "H̵e̸ ̴i̵s̷ ̴O̶u̵r̶s̶ ̷a̵s̶ ̸W̷e̸ ̴a̴r̴e̷ ̸H̶i̶s̷.̸"

=============‹«⟨∞∆∞⟩»›=============

"Hey, so, uh, I'm Danny, it's nice to meet you all."

The teen in Jason's the Pit creature's arms was remarkably calm, in Damian's opinion. He'd seen many people bathe in the Lazarus Pit come back not right, not themselves, enough to have an idea of how to handle this thing that took his brother's body as its own. Admittedly, this creature was among the most tame he'd ever seen or heard of, though, he never thought someone could become a Pit creature years after bathing in the Pit's waters, either, so perhaps that wasn't saying much.

Damian refocused and gave the older teen a small smile. "Hello, Danny, are you alright? You've had a rather stressful day, haven't you?" He needed to figure out a way to get Danny away from the Pit creature without provoking it. He had no idea how long it would stay reasonable and he didn't want to chance Danny getting hurt by what was once his brother.

Danny let out a snort. That... Wasn't the response he was expecting. "Honestly, the past week was significantly worse, this was nothing. This was almost expected, honestly. No, yeah, I'm doing pretty well now that Goony McGoonface over there isn't trying to use me as a meat shield anymore." The creature let out a short screech, and Danny glanced up at it, face contemplative, almost confused for a second, before understanding flashed across his features. He then let out a few chirps that, to Damian, sounded almost like he was asking for clarification for something. The creature responded with a trill and a few chirps of its own. Danny nodded and turned to look back at Damian with a slightly apologetic expression. "Um, he said you can come closer, Robin. He trusts you not to hurt me, but the others will have to stay back for now. Something about you being vouched for? I guess?"

He wasn't sure what to make of that, but Damian could work with this. He nodded before either of his brothers could argue, silently grateful his father was following his lead like he'd asked. "Thank you for passing along the message, I will gladly take you up on that. How close may I get?"

Danny turned to the creature again as it tilted its head in thought before chirping something at Danny that caused his eyes to widen. Danny trilled a question back, the mental impression of a disbelieving, "Really?" strong enough Damian could have sworn he'd actually heard it instead of imagining it. The creature repeated the trill back with a few chirps at the end and Danny's eyes widened further as he turned to look back at Damian. "You, uh, you can get as close as you'd like, he says he remembers you, now. You must have made a good impression, I wouldn't have thought he'd let anyone near me for the next hour, at least."

Well then. That was significantly closer than Damian had expected based on previous experiences with Pit creatures. What did Danny mean, the creature remembered him, though? How could it remember him? "Thank you again, both of you," Damian said as he started forward, being careful not to move too quickly or make any sudden movements. The closer he got to the two of them, the more he started to notice a deep rumble and slightly higher purr coming from the two he was approaching. They seemed to resonate within his own chest, touching at something he'd never noticed was tense and on constant alert until it started relaxing at the interaction. It made him just the slightest bit less hesitant at getting closer to the two of them.

It was only when he was within reach of the creature that he realized that something in his chest had started buzzing, an answering purr that startled him enough for him to pause in his tracks. That... He'd never... What? His purr hitched at his disjointed thoughts. The Pit creature slowly sat down, shifted a suddenly worried looking Danny to sit on its lap, and carefully extended an arm in Damian's direction. His purring hitched again at the movement, and the rumbling shifted in tone slightly. Somehow, the rumble seemed to draw his purr into harmony with it and the other purr, which Damian was starting to suspect was Danny's. The Pit creature chirped softly, and somehow, Damian understood it this time. "Baby bird. It's okay. You're okay. You're safe."

It—the Pit—Jason—Damian took a quick moment to sign back to his father that he had a plan he didn't, he didn't need one, either before diving into the being's arms. He'd been wrong, this wasn't a Pit creature like he'd assumed, and he could only be glad he'd said nothing about his previous assumptions aloud.

He'd only ever heard hushed rumors about it, but once, a long time ago, near the beginning of his grandfather's reign as the Demon's Head, there had been a being who'd bathed in the Lazarus Waters and came out not less than they had been, but more. They had still been themselves, they had still been healed like others before them, they'd just also become the avatar of the Waters in the process. They'd been honored by many, hailed as a great protector and given many titles as thanks, though his grandfather had apparently taken exception to someone else having such an elevated position. His grandfather had killed the being and destroyed all mentions of them as he could, even going so far as to ban talk of them. But thoughts and ideas cannot be bound, and there were those who still revered the being more than his grandfather, even within his own League.

Somehow, Jason, his brother, had become the next Avatar of the Waters. His brother was still there. His brother wasn't dead again. He held back his sobs as he let out his own quiet trill. "You're still here."

=============‹«⟨∞∆∞⟩»›=============

WOW. Didn't expect I'd be able to write this sequel any time soon! Well, surprise, dp×dc week has provided the prompts I needed to write a number of my more requested sequels! ✧⁠\⁠(⁠>⁠o⁠<⁠)⁠ﾉ⁠✧

Good news, I'm feeling better today than I have this entire week lol hopefully this continues through the rest of the week, right? (⁠^⁠～⁠^⁠;⁠)⁠ゞ

If anyone thinks I missed a trigger warning for this ficlet, PLEASE let me know! I've tried my best to cover all the ones I thought might be an issue, but I'm not the most knowledgeable on what topics can be triggering yet (⁠´⁠-⁠﹏⁠-⁠`⁠；⁠) I want my readers to know what they're getting into before they get into it, y'know?

Thank you all so much for your patience! I've got some people who asked to be tagged when I wrote the sequel, so hopefully I got them all! @stealingyourbones, @ghoststoneguard, @meira-3919, @onyxlightdragon, @gatorgoose, @rainbowbunny0159, @jarlyd, here's the update y'all asked to be tagged in! Hope you liked it ಡ⁠ ͜⁠ ⁠ʖ⁠ ⁠ಡ

[thecorpuscorpse]

#6- An Anonymous Source

CW: Knife use and blood, some 'fighting', mild kidnapping

It had been two months since the sealed letters began showing up on Villains bedroom window at night when they weren't there. Each one with a different wax embellishment on the front, made of paper worn with time, and never signed. The swirling perfection of the calligraphy was unlike anything Villain had seen before, just like the words they formed. Five letters were stacked on the desk, and the sixth Villain held by the lamplight, eyes scanning over words they always wished to hear. In brief moments, they almost believed them.

The life they lived was not as tender as the words directed at them. There was no beauty in bloodshed- not anymore, at least. Yet, whoever seemed to be hiding in their blind spot thought otherwise. With how long they ran Headquarters, it was refreshing to have a little spice in the routine of wondering who thought so highly of someone as lowly as them.

After sending their squads out for recon, Villain remained tucked away in their office at headquarters to keep an eye on cameras when one detected movement in the server room. Villain knew each employee schedule inside and out- after all, they arranged each one. Within the orchestrated machine-like facility Villain spent so many years building up, the blaring alarm was akin to grinding gears.

Hero.

Every so often, Hero would figure out a new password Villain set, or intercept shipment plans that then would lead Villain to foil Heros plans, and the process would repeat in a few weeks. It was so hard to find good help nowadays, so Villain found handling Hero a nice break from handling paperwork. There was monotony in routine, but at least they could take their impatience with their anonymous admirer out on the other.

"Dammit... now of all times, Hero?" They snapped as they stood from their desk.

As much as the alarm irked them, Villain was more irritated their work was being interrupted. Scanners failed to pick up any DNA trace, leading them to another dead end. Somewhere, someone saw Villain and thought fondly of them. For a while, the simple knowledge of it was enough to qualm the loneliness, but now was more of a curse. They called the author a coward. They called the letters a trap. Yet, Villain headed down the hall to pursue a perpetrator after they stayed up until four in the morning... again... to read the letters in hope something would tell them who claimed to adore them so.

The door to the server room was ajar, main lights turned out. The dull glow of blinking red, blue and yellow lights cast shadows on the wall in varied patterns. The main lights were shorted, forcing them to identify misplaced figures in the dim light. It only dug further into Villains impatience with the matter. Against the low hum of the computers, a tinny clank echoed near the back wall.

Villain kept steady strides slow, mindful of the linoleum under their shoes and how quiet their breath was. Silence, as well as any leverage, was better than none, and it worked to Villains virtue when it guided the blade to the turned back of who they knew was tampering with their tech.

"I don't have time for you tonight, Hero," Villain said as they pressed the knife against their spine. "There is plenty of work for me as is without you getting involved."

Dressed in all-black, which happened to be quite flattering for the Hero, they tuned after setting their tools down and raising their hands. Villain took a step forward and pressed the edge to their throat.

"That's why I figure I'd lighten the load~" Hero said, offering an innocent shrug. "By-"

"Yes, yes, thwarting my recruitment of more people through disrupting our log system," Villain droned, pressing the blade harder. "Now really, I do have pressing matters to attend to."

There was a static in the air, and not from the whirring machines around them. The more Villain stood in it, the more irritated they got. It showed in the quick right cross-swing of butt-end of the knife towards Heros head before the move was blocked by Heros hand.

"Wow, whats the matter with you?" Hero mused with a shit-eating grin as he twisted Villains arm into a lock behind their back. The knife clattered onto the floor. "Not very like you to 'not have time for me', Villain. Plus, what a sloppy execution."

"You don't know me, Hero," Villain hummed with a smile in their voice, flexing their hand under Heros grip. "So I'll show you a real sloppy execution."

Villain dug their heel into Heros foot, and used the momentum to twist them to slam into the server paneling. With the grip loosened, Villain snaked away and went for the knife. It was only a second more before Villain was swept off their feet- literally- and hit the ground.

"Yeah, that was pretty sloppy too," Hero said as they went to further restrain the fallen Villain. "You're making me jealous, don't tell me there's another Hero you have to go cause havoc for~ Ugh, I'll be heartbroken!"

Villain struggled against Heros grasp, writhing and twisting their body so they could never get a solid pin. While Hero had their brawn at their side, Villain knew it was only a matter of leverage.

"I do, but they aren't a Hero~"

They took the moment Hero stalled in their attempts to pin them down to get their lets out to kick Hero back, knocking the wind out of them. Villain went for the knife again and came up behind Hero to hold the knife to their throat again.

"Bullshit," Hero gasped out, though an amused smile graced their stupid face. "I can barely tolerate you as it is."

Villain contemplated for a moment. What harm would a white lie do when they didn't even know who was writing the letters? There would be no one else to go after. It would be nice to pretend- Villain did it enough as it was.

"Oh, you should hear how they talk about their love for my vile and vulgar ways Hero. How they adore the plans of misery I make for the thousands," Villain gripped Heros hair and tilted their head back to look at them proper. "And the tongue they have..."

"Then why aren't you with them now?"

"Because I'm dealing with you," Villain said as their jaw set. "A thorn in my side since we crossed paths, and always coming back like a damn infection," They brought the edge up against Heros neck. "You are pestiferous- a plague in my life every time your head pops up." Villain narrowed their eyes, bringing small beads of blood against the blade. "And I think I'm going to purge the source tonight."

"Then do it."

Below them, there was a rumble followed by a blaring alarm from what Villain assumed was a few floors down. It only took one distracted second for Hero grab Villains wrist and flip them over and onto their back before they dove behind a rack of server blocks. There was a flash, and the room filled with smoke. The colors against the smoke were disorienting, yet once Villain got hold of their knife, they could barely make out a figure escaping through one of the vents.

"One thing after a-fucking-nother..." Villain hissed as they ran out from the server room and towards the blaring fire alarm down below.

Once done dealing with the aftermath of a blown-apart storage unit, Villain trudged back up to their office and collapsed in their chair. It was now six in the morning, and looking at the camera they had set up to face their bedroom window at home- no letter to be seen on the window. They pushed their hair back with a sigh, before deciding to freshen up there, and continuing their monotonous work for their empire, with breaks reading loving words Villain needed to hear after such a long night.

---

The seventh letter was different than the rest.

It had taken longer than the rest to arrive- almost a month later than the last one, when the others came once or twice a week. Nights were seemingly endless when Villain would simply stare at the window from the camera. They knew if they were home, they wouldn't arrive, and so they worked long into the night, going home every few days to make sure their plants were watered.

Unlike the other ornate and delicately put together envelopes, the newest came in a simple black one. The handwriting was reminiscent of the others yet the words scrawled unsteadily. The droning news anchor in the background discussed the impending weather as Villain attempted to make sense of everything they were reading.

What was said was not the romantic poetry they were used to, of regrets and promises they wished to keep to Villain of seeing them, of truly being with them and being sure there would be nothing keeping them apart anymore.

The signature at the bottom made Villains heart sink. Not because of who had written the confession they read. Not because it was from someone they wouldn't have wanted at all. But because it wasn't a signature at all.

Except a smear of blood.

Villains head felt light, the corners of their vision hazing a little as they tried to make sense of what it all meant. They sat down in their chair, still staring at the letter before them. It wasn't until the news anchor interrupted their broadcast with breaking news.

'The beloved and respected savior of our beautiful city, Hero, has officially been pronounced dead today by coroners after their body had been returned to city officials by an anonymous source. Further details the cause to be released.'

"No..."

They took a long look at the radio, eyes wide in disbelief as their mind began to piece everything together. In a moment, they were at their sequencer and after they got a sample of the paper, pulled out their knife. What little blood left from their fight with Hero remained, and they flaked off the dry remains in the other bottle. Time blurred as they waited, walking crop circles into their carpet while the machine processed the samples.

They didn't see anyone on the cameras the night before. No sound, no disturbance. First nothing was on the window, and when daylight broke, there it was. They hadn't dealt with Hero recently, which they only grew to notice the more they thought.

They couldn't settle down, and any time their office door was knocked on, they would simply throw a book at it and tell whoever it was to bother them tomorrow. Word must have gone around because soon the knocking stopped and Villain was left alone with the machine, which whirred just like the servers did their last night with Hero.

They were pulled out of their mind when the machine stopped, and the face glowed green with the information Villain already put together in their walk about their office.

DNA Sequencing Completed- Results: 100% Match

---

Villain drummed their thumb against the steering wheel of the car. Occasionally, it would follow the tempo of their racing heart, or the shake in their muscles from the adrenaline in their blood. The timer they set on their phone for five minutes was halfway through. Villain regretted even permitting that much time to wait. It had been too long already, and with any more time, they could be too late.

Three minutes and no sign. Villain shifted in their seat, instead now tapping their foot and squeezing their hands together. The last they slept was indistinct, waiting for the right moment to make their next move. A drastic one, which would leave more loose ends than they would like, but it was just as a drastic situation they had on their hands.

Four minutes and Villain was getting ready to get out and handle the ordeal themselves. They checked to make sure their gun was loaded, as they did a dozen or so times before even though they hadn't used it. Before they reached the door handle, the passenger side opened to Villains relief.

"Very good. Hurry up." Villain said, gesturing with the gun to get in.

Five minutes was all Villain needed. As they sped off, the silence was cushioned by the low hum of the car. Villain didn't know what to think. What to say. What if, in the time they were gone, Hero was too? The thoughts were heavy as Villain drove, until their passenger pulled them out of their head.

"I shouldn't be doing this..."

"Then why are you." Villain said, rather than asked.

"Well, you told me with a gun to my head that you hunt me down and kill my girlfriend in front of me, then send my body parts to various family members."

"Good memory, and I will if you make any attempts to run."

"Good to know..." The accomplice said with a tight-lipped smile before looking down at the bag.

"And... I'm helping someone, aren't I?" They asked after another moment of passing silence. "Someone you care about?"

There was a thick lump that sunk into Villains throat. It irked them to know they had to get outside sources with such a high risk, but they were pushed to no other choice. They offered a single, but humble nod before turning off onto a dirt road.

"What the fuck did you say you did again?"

"I'm a first assistant," they said as they shuffled the medical bag on their lap while twisting the handles nervously. "Not quite a surgeon, but I'm getting there."

"Of course, I pick up the intern in the operating room..." Villain uttered as they watched the road. The car, being small, only allowed the young surgeon to hear the remark clearly.

"The operating rooms of the ICU," they huffed a bit too confidently for Villains liking. "Much more intense and less room for error. I mostly make sure the room is clean but I do help with sutures, and other general care."

With a less than patient sigh, Villain parked the car in the driveway and looked the young surgeon square in the face, gun held towards them with a finger threatening pressure on the trigger.

"Keep your attitude in check, and keep them alive." They said flatly. "Both the person I'm bringing you to, and your girlfriend."

It had just been the two of them since Hero showed up battered, beaten and bloodied just two weeks before. They hadn't gotten better and while Villain was good at many things, medical diagnosis weren't one of them. They took leave from work to get Hero somewhere more secluded than Villains home closer to the city.

When Hero was awake, Villain limited themselves to one question because Hero would get winded from speaking too much. Day by day, they learned how Hero wanted things to be different, not only for themselves only, but between the two. How they grew to love Villain, admire them and respect them, to want them yet be restricted from doing so. Hero detailed how they convinced a select few to assist them in faking their death with a glow which made Villain hopeful, but then Hero fell asleep before telling them how it went, and hadn't woke up since. It'd been three days.

With a nervous nod in understanding, the two got out of the car, and Villain walked the man to the house with a gun drawn on them the entire way. Sleepless nights were still to come, yet there was a bit more relief in knowing Hero stood more of a chance now. Villain hoped they didn't make a mistake, for Hero wouldn't be able to survive it.

[darkangel1791]

MALEC

is

Matthew Daddario as Alec Lightwood

Harry Shum Jr as Magnus Bane

Crazy Chemistry

and

All of their fans, 50% of which only watched Shadowhunters for them

[miodiodavinci]

every day that goes by i relate more and more to that post that's like "is the video essay analysis or is it summary → it's a good essay sir → open the video → it's summary"

[stobinesque]

let me be the void you fill, pt. 1

@steddie-week day 4: familiar | ~2k words | Teen and up title from "I / Me / Myself" by Will Wood

On his way up the path to the small hut he’d gotten Dustin to draw a crude map to, Steve was stopped in his tracks by a lanky black cat that appeared out of nowhere—and then promptly proceeded to wind her way between his legs.

"Well hello there," he said, bending down to extend his hand towards her nose. 

The cat gave his fingers one short, decisive sniff, before bumping her head against them, and resuming her circuitous turn betwixt his ankles.

Steve laughed. "So you mean to hold me hostage, then, is that it?" 

The cat paused to look up at him, features set into what Steve guessed would be a look of utter disdain on a human.

"Okay, okay, bad joke, huh?" The cat slipped out from under his feet just long enough for Steve to crouch all the way down and present his palm to her again. The cat purred this time, and nudged her head up against his palm more firmly, staying still long enough to allow him to pet the top of her head, and scratch behind her ears. "I'm Steve," he offered. "And what's your name, pretty girl?"

"Miriam? Miriam! Where did you run off—oh."

Steve startled at the sudden sound, and glanced up from where the cat was now enthusiastically petting herself against him, to find a witch of about his own height rushing out the hut’s front door. They sported a head full of riotous brown curls, atop which sat a stout, felted witch's hat. In spite of the unseasonable heat, the theurgist was dressed in heavy, ruffled black skirts, and colorfully patched stockings. That had to be why their cheeks were flushed such a pretty shade of pink, right?

Steve pulled himself back up to a standing position, shaking his head as though to clear it of cobwebs. He snapped his mouth shut when he realized it had dropped open of its own accord, and glanced back down at the cat, now rubbing herself up against one leg. "So your name is Miriam?" he asked her.

The cat let out a small merp in reply, as her owner—companion?—continued to stand and stare at Steve from a few steps up the path.

🐈‍⬛🪄🔮✨🌕🧹🧙

Eddie's day had begun with a series of inauspicious events.

To start with, she had forgotten to leave fir curtains parted in just the right way before bed the night before. So instead of gradually rising with the sun as it crept in on hazy bands of light, fee'd been slapped in the face by the full force of its rays at entirely too early an hour.

And then, when she'd gone out to fetch the laundry, it was to find every single article of clothing still damp—or worse—in spite of the unusually dry heat they’d been having. That left fir with only a pair of (thankfully) threadbare, but (unfortunately) black woolen stockings, a black linen smock, and a set ruffled skirts—of which the relative breeze allowed by its shortened length at the front, was offset by the sheer quantity of its layers—to wear for the day. (The stockings, he supposed, could have been forgotten. But Eddie found themself wandering through thistle paths far too often, and unexpectedly, to not wear something on her legs every day.)

To make matters worse, the moment Miriam’d heard Eddie knocking about, she'd gone ahead and toppled over one of the cauldrons, in a way that signified today was to be a potion-making day. 

Great, so I'm going to be a puddle by midday.

Most days, Eddie could choose the direction of fir practice. But sometimes, for one reason or another—a particular rhyme of the chimes hanging in zir window, the moon hanging low and large and bloody in the night sky, a particular scent in the air—the animus of the world nudged her in a particular direction.

Those days, invariably, sucked.

But still, Eddie bustled around the small cottage—grabbing roots, and herbs, and carefully preserved insect matter—preparing for the day's task. The draught that Eddie felt fumself pushed to brew today was technically complicated, time consuming, and required the assistance of another set of hands. 

Which would be fine. If his familiar hadn't scampered off moments after knocking over the cauldron that morning.

Eddie searched high and low, and into every nook and cranny of the cramped hut—which did not want for hiding places, despite its small footprint—for his erstwhile familiar. Eventually, he had to admit defeat, and determined that she must have gone for a laze about the garden beds—even though she knew full well that they were off limits.

"Miriam?" Eddie called out as he pushed his way outside. Usually the one call was enough to have her trotting back home immediately, shame-faced and caught out. But in keeping with the day’s pattern, nothing was to be so easy. "Miriam!" Eddie called again, growing a touch frustrated. "Where did you run off t—oh." 

Eddie came to an abrupt halt just a few steps up the path from their hut, shocked still by the sight of Miriam letting someone other than themself touch her. And it wasn't just any someone. It was perhaps the most gorgeous someone Eddie had ever laid eyes on: soft brown hair that glinted gold in the sunlight, pretty pink lips rounded into a perfectly round 'O' that just begged to have something shoved between them, and…and Eddie really needed to reign in the excesses of hir thoughts. 

The honey-haired visitor straightened to a standing position and looked down at Miriam with a sweet smile on their face. "So your name is Miriam?" he asked, receiving a soft chirp of confirmation from Miriam in reply. It brought Eddie up short—most strangers didn’t address Miriam directly. Who was this person? Eddie shook his head, honing in on the most mysterious part of the tableau in front of him.

"She's letting you pet her," he marveled. "I think the last person who tried nearly got his arm chewed off for the trouble." Eddie tilted her head and looked the stranger up and down in a way that he knew would be taken for the blatant assessment it was. "She must like you." And Eddie knew that if Miriam trusted someone, then if nothing else, he should trust her—but, well: see above, re: day of inauspicious beginnings. "So what's your name, stranger?" He added just a touch of suspicion to his tone.

"Steve," came the swift reply, immediately followed with an outstretched hand, in spite of the several paces of distance still separating the two of them. "Of the town of Haring," Steve continued. As he spoke, Miriam came slinking back towards Eddie, and settled into a seated position between his feet, gaze fixed intensely at Steve.

"Okay, Steve of Haring." Eddie propped a hand on one hip, still trying to figure out what to make of this visitor. Everything about his day up ‘til now suggested there was something more going on here than met the eye. Even Miriam seemed to think so, if the way she was staring fixedly at Steve’s chest was anything to go by. But Miriam was also clearly fond of this stranger, after only moments of interaction. So there was probably nothing to fear from Steve themself, and, oh, he really needed to confirm how he should be constructing his internal narration regarding this creature— "So how else do you like to be referred to, Steve?"

"Huh?" Steve’s brow furrowed in confusion.

"Well, I can't very well keep going around calling you 'the stranger' in my head now, can I?"

Steve shrugged. "You could just think of me as ‘Steve,’" Steve said with an adorable little head tilt. 

"This is true, but it does get repetitive after a while. Which, of course, is alright, if that’s what you prefer. But I usually find that a pronoun or two often helps things along."

"Oh!" Steve snapped their fingers and pointed at Eddie with excitement at their sudden understanding. "You can use ‘he’ and ‘him’ and stuff to think and talk about me. That's what everyone else does."

"And…is that what you want everyone else to do?"

Steve shrugged. "I don't really care, I suppose. It's just…easier this way."

Eddie frowned. "And you don't think that's boring? Why limit yourself to the confines of expectation if it doesn't make you happy?"

Steve blew a gust of air between his lips and ran a hand through his hair. "I guess you could say that's part of why I'm here, really."

Eddie raised a brow. "Oh?"

Steve waved a hand as though to bat the matter away as unimportant. "Yeah, but we're getting ahead of ourselves." Steve crossed his arms over his chest and regarded Eddie with an interest all his own. "How should I be thinking about you?"

Eddie flipped a lock of hair over one shoulder, and tossed zir sauciest smile Steve's way. "You can think of me any way you like, handsome."

The bright pink flush that swept across Steve's face—and the awkward stammering that followed—were truly the highlight of Eddie's day thus far. (Unfortunately, that was an embarrassingly low bar to clear—but, on the other hand, Steve's blush-and-stammer combo had just set it at a lifetime high. Ah, Life and Her various vagaries.)

"That's not what I meant "

"Oh I know, stranger. But that is the answer to what you did mean, anyhow, so it didn't seem prudent to pass up such a delicious opportunity to be a shameless flirt."

Steve wrinkled his nose. "Charming."

"Why yes, that is one of the things you could call me," Eddie shot back with an impish grin. 

Steve laughed. "You're a bit of an asshole, aren't you?"

"I've been called worse," fee replied with a small shrug. "...and a lot better," she added with an exaggerated wink.

"Okay, but, really, how should I—? What should I—?"

Eddie waved a dismissive hand of their own. "Think of—and refer to—me however you like: he, them, hers, zir," Eddie shrugged. "It's all the same to me. Though I must confess I've grown partial to ‘fee, fi, fo, fum’."

The bright, bursting bubble of a giggle this provoked could have fueled Eddie's strongest cheering charm. "You can't be serious!"

"Deadly so, I'm afraid. Although in practice it’s more like ‘fee, fum, fir, fos’."  

"Hmmm, okay. I like it." Steve reached up to tuck his hair back behind both ears at once. "What about your name?"

"What of it, pretty boy?" Eddie asked, just to see the rosy blush spread across the apples of Steve's cheeks again.

"Could I have it?"

"Could you have it? What, to keep? Are you a faerie, Steve? If you're a faerie you have to tell me, or else it's entrapment."

"No, I'm not a faerie. But I'm also pretty sure that's not how any of that works."

"That sounds exactly like something a faerie would say," Eddie shot back, jabbing an accusatory finger Steve’s way.

Steve shook his head, but there was a delighted grin on his face and a soft chuckle rising from his throat. "I just want to stop having to cycle through various iterations of 'hot witch,' in my own thoughts," he admitted.

"Oooh, well now I'm curious—how dirty and creative did you get there?"

Steve's smile shifted into something more like a smirk. "Mmm…'beddable horror specks'?"  

Eddie threw his head back in a wild laugh that sent fir hat flying. "I think you mean haruspex—which isn't accurate, anyway; I prefer not to go around reading rabbit entrails—but that was good!"

"And?" Steve asked with a wheedling-but-cheery, sort of tone. "Could I get a name in reward? Something to call you by, in the heat of the moment?"

"Well, I must confess that now I'm even more curious about what you’d come up with if left to your own devices—but I suppose if you must have something to scream into the rafters while I ravish you: Eddie, son and/or daughter and/or corrupted offspring of the Moon, at your service." Hat no longer on her head to tip in Steve direction, Eddie instead swept down into a low bow, one arm extended out toward Steve in invitation.

stay tuned for part two tomorrow!

[rebouks]

Hello Becca! I was wondering if you build every lot and space in your gameplays, from public to private. I was rereading some of Somnium and earlier posts from FIB and just noticed how much everybody moves around! I'm asking because the planning of my stories alone takes a lot of time, and I can't imagine spending more time building the 'sets' the story will take place. If you do, it's even more impressive!

hiii hello.. i do build most lots myself yeah! i usually have such a specific vision for the spaces these guys occupy that i just can't bring myself to use other ppl's stuff, no matter how lovely it is 😅 the only time i don't is if i find a lot i reaaally like or if i know i'm only gonna use it a couple times, if i make smth i wanna use it multiple times so yeah.. eg. the lots below circled in red are mine, n the one's in blue are other ppls i plonked down just to use once or twice or fill up the space..

also behold my messy gallery lmaoo.. but yeah all made from scratch by yours truly cos i'm unhinged/love building!

[oifaaa]

the young justice show sucks because they made sportsmaster a bootleg Slade because functional evil family man Sportsmaster is funnier

Hard disagree the way the young justice cartoon said fuck it lets make sportsmaster into our bootleg deathstroke for absolutely no reason especially considering slade is also in the show is hilarious