#holy fuck y’all

[estrellami-1]

HOW THE FUCK DID I JUST LEARN Red, White & Royal Blue IS GOING TO BE A MOVIE AND WILL BE RELEASED IN LESS THAN A MONTH?????

I’m not okay holy shit I already texted Awesome Best Friend like “I AM coming over and we ARE watching this you have no choice in the matter”

Y’all. I don’t think you understand. I have been waiting for this my WHOLE DAMN LIFE. A female president???? A HISPANIC BISEXUAL KID?????? Listen okay Alex is ME and I love him and I NEED TO SEE JUNE AND NORA AND PEZ ALL TOGETHER AND I NEED TO SEE THIS MOVIE YESTERDAY.

I’m just. I’m not okay. I need that reaction pic the “hold on I need a minute” okay do you understand this is ME it’s MIDNIGHT and I’m having a fucking BREAKDOWN I was supposed to be going to bed and I scrolled through @mickalaem’s blog bc why not and I literally just realized it’s because I’ve had the #steddie filter permanently on my feed. Fuck. This is what happens when I hyperfixate, I forget about my other hyperfixations. Christ. How the FUCK am I supposed to sleep now. Mickala thank you I think even though you didn’t really do anything, it was my dumbass self’s fault in the first place. What the fuck am I meant to do now it’s midnight my alarm’s set for 6:40 and I’m not okay

#red white and royal blue #holy fuck y’all #I’m freaking out #I’m SO excited for this #y’all don’t even KNOW

[sunshinesteviee]

I’ve finished my first week of work and I feel dead inside

#my brain is fried #holy fuck y’all #I wanted to write but #I don’t think that’s happening #lol

[desperatecheesecubes]

This man is so delighted to see misfortune fall upon his enemies

#mine #dungeon meshi #I can’t believe y’all got this to 1K #oh good lord now it’s at 1.5K #holy fuck we’re at 2K #I ain’t got nothing for 2.5k #3K my bewildered #I need a tag for 3.5k now?! #I gotta come up with something for 4K now? #stop this we’re at 4.5k now

[jsheios]

So Hilda season 3. (This post has nothing to do with hilda season 3)

#no spoilers here y’all are good #this was inspired by watching season though #holy fuck dude #when I posted this on other platforms half my comments were “’HILDA S3 IS OUT???’ #NO ONES TALKING ABOUT IT AND ITS CRIMINAL #I may start posting more hilda art but it’ll take a bit to get to s3 content maybe #cus I still have so many ideas just from season 2 I never got out #take this with a grain of salt #hilda #hilda the series #hilda netflix #twig hilda #this post is based on some old aged up hilda designs I posted like 2 years ago #I’ve missed them

[deadsetobsessions]

Once more the hallucinations hit, and once more I am here writing it out.

My brain is fucking terrifying and I want out, so bad. This came to me in the form of a nightmare.

Also, please don’t take the timeline into consideration, because I have no idea what’s going on. Again, nightmares and dreams tend to not have the best coherency when it comes to plot and timelines. The reincarnation doesn’t have a name, I was too busy feeling terrified. Shit in parentheses was how I experienced the nightmare. Everything else is just me adding sprinkle sprinkle.

——

Ra’s al Ghul.

Talia al Ghul.

Two names that she had been aware of, in the peripherals of her hyper fixation. Two characters meant to enhance the story of the Dark Knight. Side characters, on a good day. Perhaps, a main antagonist on a better day.

On a bad day?

Main characters. Real, living people. Real, living, breathing assassins.

Unfortunately, they’re her new family. One she remembered coming into, bathed in a pool of blood and screams.

She was not a baby.

She is now, a baby. The first of Talia al Ghul’s children. The eldest, once Damian al Ghul was born.

Swaddled in emerald green and gold silks, she was presented to a man with silver streaked hair and a receding hairline. He too, was robed in green and golds.

“A daughter, Talia?” He rumbled, the smooth Arabic flowing out of his mouth failing to hide the acrid disappointment. The child, past the haze of confusion of suddenly being deported from her own adult body into one of a helpless child, felt a stirring of irritation. It’s good she learned the language, because now she knew exactly how Ra’s felt about her. The child grumbled a displeased sound. Not that she would have ignored the fact that her grandfather was Ra’s al Ghul. (He smelled like moth eaten fabric and blood- but I think that was because my cat accidentally scratched me.)

“My apologies, father.”

“Do not tell the young detective of this. Had it been a son, perhaps things would have been different. No, a daughter would only hinder him.”

Talia bowed, hands tightening on her daughter. “May I raise her, father?”

“A resource is still a resource. Go ahead, Talia.”

“Yes, father.” Talia took the dismissal and bowed before leaving.

On her way back to the room with the reincarnation’s crib, Talia al Ghul stroked her daughter’s head.

“I wish you were born a boy, my daughter. I am sorry my beloved will never know of you.”

The reincarnation looked at her new mother. She’s young, the woman-child realized. A teenager.

“You’ll have to be useful, my daughter. Your grandfather is not so kind as to keep the useless. I… do not wish for your death,” her mother muttered.

Great. She got new life and it’s already in danger.

——

She learned to swing a knife. Swords. She learned and devoured the teachings. She learned to be useful.

But then they asked her to take the life of a man who did her no wrong.

Her baby blues clashed with her grandfather’s Lazarus green.

She was still young. A child.

“No.”

“No?”

“He did no wrong.”

“He failed, granddaughter.” Ra’s smiled down at her, patronizing. Cruel. “Perhaps you possess your father’s heart, and you are foolishly sentimental, as women and children tend to be. But in the end, you are an al Ghul and you will obey. Plunge in your blade and I will reward you.”

The reincarnation looked at the man kneeling in front of her, resignation and a hint of pity in what little she could see of his face.

She’s already died before. What did she have to be afraid of?

“No.”

They tried to beat the weakness out of her. It didn’t work.

——

The reincarnation stared at the mirror, left alone in an opulent cage of gold and emeralds and precious stones that meant little to her now.

Her hands traced her back, small fingers finding purchase in soft skin. Her mouth opened fruitlessly, noise refusing to escape. She still felt the burning magic, the brand her own blood had carved into her skin and soul because she refused to kill. The chains her grandfather had shackled around her with magic and cruel amusement.

She had killed him, in the end. Obey, or be punished. Her body had moved without her permission, the reincarnation a prisoner in a body that refused to do as she commanded. The knife swung, a life taken, her hands dipped in red.

She learned a valuable lesson that day.

There were things worse than death.

“This is an order, granddaughter.”

The Magic had flared a searing heat at her neck, forcing her to kneel on broken legs. Ra’s loomed above, authority in his voice. She was bound to obey, regardless.

“You will never speak another word of affection, you will never speak another word to anyone unless I allow it. Perhaps this will teach you of your folly, and your place in this world.”

The loss of her freedom and the fear that came with it was a bitter and devastating lesson.

——

Ra’s al Ghul was so much worse than what little she knew of him.

She was right to be afraid for herself.

Her mother had worried, when she’d withdrawn and refused to speak to her. Even if she could, the reincarnation would not have wanted to. The reincarnation had felt furious, back then, when she thought of Talia. Her mother who refused to protect her. Her mother, who claimed she loved her but refused to see the chains Ra’s wrapped around her neck. She who plied the reincarnation with a supportive hand but forced her into the fighting pits.

But, as the reincarnation stumbled out on bruised and used legs from Ra’s al Ghul’s meeting chambers where he had allowed his business partners to partake in her, she realized that Ra’s was a monster in a human’s body and her mother was a victim of his making.

The lesson Ra’s taught her that day was that if she was not useful, if she did not kill, he would take what was left of her and make use of her.

Hate flared in her heart, and the beginning of Ra’s downfall began the day he let her go from the chambers alive. Injured, but alive. Injured and violated, but alive and furious.

——

She carved her hate and rage and helplessness and fear in the bodies of the people he bid her to kill. Her silenced screams were expressed in the way she splattered blood, the way she covered herself in it. A killing machine first, a stress reliever second, and a child… wasn’t on the list of things she was allowed to be.

His enemies were felled, one after another. He gave her his approval, something she detested.

But still, she continued, bodies racking upwards, tens turning to hundreds, hundreds edging into thousands.

The red in her ledger became ichor and guilt. Her language became violence and obedience.

“You have become a sharp tool, granddaughter.”

She was a genius, after all. And now, she could not disobey. A blade that Ra’s believed will never point towards him. She kneeled. She obeyed.

“Thank you, grandfather.” Her words were only allowed to come out- without searing, terrible pain- when she was thanking him. She tried not to do it as often as he wanted. He thought he broke her when he read the obedience she carved into her body language.

But she never bowed. Never. Not to him. Never.

——

“My weapon could learn much from your granddaughter,” David Cain sat across from Ra’s, wine in their stupid goblets. How she detested the green and blacks he’s seen fit to dress her with. She’s dressed provocatively, not of her own choice. She doesn’t have much of those- doesn’t have much in ways of choices- these days.

She was twelve, and Ra’s al Ghul deserved to die.

“Her combat is a higher form of what my daughter has achieved. How did you do it?”

When Ra’s began to reply, she slipped away.

She found the girl. She found… the cage- the black box- the child was placed in. The child flinched from her when she opened the metal box, fear only easing as the reincarnation kept her body language neutral and kind. (It was pitch black, and about the size of like, a closet. No light. Only from whatever door the box had.) (Cass’ hands hurt from banging on the walls to be let out)

David Cain’s daughter, her mind whispered, the memories of another life once more making itself known.

“Cassandra.” She whispered, regretting it immediately when pain wracked her body. She fell to her knees as the punishment for disobeying an order slammed into her.

The girl looked at her in concern, but did not move closer. The reincarnation stared at this girl and saw a reflection of herself.

David Cain would be here for a month. She will free Cassandra in those days.

——

The weapon stared at the girl in front of her, kneeling in pain.

She did not understand.

-

The girl came back. Water. Food. Kind.

The weapon felt warm. The girl was quiet. No sounds. Good. The weapon knew the girl understood. The weapon thinks that the girl is a weapon too.

-

The girl comes back, again. This time, she makes a sound. It hurt her, but she did it again. The weapon understands when the girl points at herself and repeats the sound. The sound means the girl. The girl expects something from the weapon.

The weapon makes the sound, flinching to see if the owner will come to punish it. The girl purposefully sits, relaxed but vigilant… and protective. Of the weapon?

The weapon relaxed. It repeated the sound, pointing at the girl.

The girl smiles, in pain. But approval. The weapon feels- the weapon is warm, like under the blanket. Approval.

The girl teaches her to make sounds but the weapon communicates without it. It does not like the sounds, does not need them, but the girl seems to think it’s important.

The weapon likes the girl, so the weapon learns. They still understand through no sounds, through reading each other.

-

The girl comes back, silently. Secretly. The weapon does not notify the owner. The weapon feels- does not want to.

The girl- the girl with the sound- she says a different sound. Her body tells the weapon that it’s important, this sound.

And when the girl points at herself and says her own sound, then points at the weapon and says that new sound again, the weapon begins to understand.

The girl had given the weapon her own sound.

“Cass—n- ra.”

“Cass,” the girl said, and Cassandra understood.

“Cass.” Cassandra pointed to herself.

-

The owner wanted- wanted Cassandra to end a life. Cassandra watched the owner kill and gesture to the dead thing.

Cassandra did not want to.

When Cassandra is placed back into the pitch black box, she waited for the girl.

The girl came.

“Don’t want.” Cassandra clung to her, reading the welcome and the sadness in the girl’s body. Cassandra tucked her face into the girl’s shoulder. She is cold. The girl is warm.

The girl hugged her back. The girl understood. Sadness hardened into lines of determination. Cassandra felt… light. Felt hope.

-

Cassandra slipped away from the place, water in her pack for the dessert and money to run from the country. The girl stayed behind, seeing her off. The girl tells her to never come back.

Cassandra did not want to leave the girl behind, but the girl could not go.

“Be free, Cass.” The girl had whispered through the pain. “For the both of us.”

——

Her grandfather knew. He allowed David Cain to break her, not kill because she was of use to him still, as a lesson. She found that she hated his lessons. But, she hated his attention more.

And still, she could not regret. How could she, when Cass trusted her with what fragile hope she had?

So, she lets him beat her, and provokes him with smirks and fearless eyes because the longer he’s focused on her, the more time Cass has to run.

Then, he gets too angry, and insults Ra’s, whose eyes grew cold. Her grandfather gestured and while she usually hated the command that followed that gesture, she could not feel that hatred now.

She got back up, legs broken and arms twisted once more, and attacked David Cain.

Ra’s would not follow Cass. Not when she was not his business to deal with, and not when David Carin’s fury amused him so.

David Cain would not follow Cass. Not while she still drew breath. The reincarnation stood, and threw herself at one of the best assassins of the century.

She tore his throat out with nothing but her teeth. She felt, for once, not like a monster. Not even when Ra’s nodded in approval and ordered for David Cain’s broken body to be cleaned up.

——

She’s been granted a mission in New Jersey, once her months of discipline- of torture- ended. She does not get ordered to find Cassandra. She’s fourteen now, and as silent as ever. Her mother had adjusted to her silence by then- long ago, actually, taking it as a quirk her daughter had developed. She hadn’t been a terribly vocal child, after all. Talia praised her for being useful even as a woman- the self degradation something the reincarnation had no doubt Ra’s had insidiously trained into Talia- and for being loyal to Ra’s.

Sometimes, she hates Talia for being- for-

Never mind. She couldn’t afford to hate anyone else.

She killed her targets early, determination and wistfulness urging her movements into sharp . Then, she made her way to Gotham and slipped into the city of darkness- where her father was.

She watched as he hid in the shadows almost as easily as she did. She watched as he flew and glided with the younger Robin. (He was younger than her by a year. She checked.) He was free. They were free.

She wished…

As she turned away, she saw a child tumbling from the edge of a roof. It was an instinct she’d thought Ra’s had managed to bury after the months he’d spent making sure she killed only children.

She hated him.

She caught him, swooping in and tucking him against her side as she plucked him from the air and plopped him back onto the crumbling roof of Gotham’s slums.

“Oh, thank you! So much- are you a vigilante?” The boy asked, looking at her masked face. It’s a good thing she wasn’t exactly dressed like a regular League operative.

She shook her head. Her eyes fell onto his camera, faint memories rising once more. She had an inkling-

“I’m- uh- Tim!” The boy introduced himself nervously, edging away from her silence. “Thank you for saving me…?”

She nodded. She pointed to the camera, tilting her head.

“Oh- you… want to see it?” He clutched his camera closer. Oh, he did have some sense of self preservation. She wondered why a seven year old was allowed to roam these streets… but she did worse at seven.

She held her hand up and back up. The boy hesitated, and then showed her the camera. “Uh- I took pictures of Robin and Batman!”

They sat on that roof for hours, and she let Tim Drake tell her stories about her father and his son. Ward. Son.

She could tell that Tim didn’t have anyone to listen to him.

She didn’t have long until she had to go back or risk severe punishment, but… she could make time for Tim, to listen to him.

She wondered if Cass managed to escape completely. She wondered if her sister all but in name and blood learned how to smile.

——

Tim had never had a friend before!

She listened to him! And gave him hugs the one time he was brave enough to ask! And she seemed to like Batman and Robin as much as he did! No one who didn’t like them would listen to his endless rambling otherwise, right? (Tim was super skinny, like ribs poking out skinny. He looked like a sickly Victorian child and he was kind of cold)

“And then, Robin went like this,” he pantomimed the awesome punch Dick Grayson did on a Joker goon. “And the guys got knocked out just like that!”

His new friend nodded, looking interested.

“Sorry, am I talking too much?” Tim asked anxiously. He didn’t want to make his friend hate him!

She shook her head, and gestured for him to continue.

“Are you sure?”

She nodded.

His new friend was so cool! She even taught him how to throw a punch and to fight!

——

When she had to leave, she prepared Tim for it.

“Do you have to go?”

She nodded and placed a hand on his head, ruffling his hair. Her other hand held a duffle bag with an assortment of weapons she carefully kept from him. (One of the blades still had guts on it, which, ew.)

“Try not to fall off anymore roofs, little photographer.” She said, smiling at his shocked look before leaping away.

“Wait, you can talk?!” He shouted at her back. She smiled a little wider.

——

“A son, this time.” Ra’s al Ghul’s voice echoed in his disgustingly flashy throne room. It rings of approval.

The reincarnation stood behind her mother, eyes cast downwards.

“Well done, Talia. I finally have a worthy heir.”

Damian al Ghul cooed.

The reincarnation was scared. But… she could not allow her younger brother to be trapped like she was. She’s fifteen now, a decade of slavery having worn her down and nearly broken her. But with her brother… no, she could not allow it.

She met her mother’s eyes and knew then that they agreed. Protect Damian, at all costs.

She ignored the sting of envy. So what her mother could not find it in herself to protect her daughter? So long as she protected Damian, it didn’t matter.

Maybe she didn’t matter. Maybe she wasn’t worth anything. Maybe- maybe- maybe.

She also ignored the seed of disgust she had for mother’s actions in conceiving Damian. She couldn’t do anything about it. Talia was also a victim.

A louder voice in her asked if she could really excuse that, when Talia had a choice and she chose to hurt and violate Bruce Wayne like that. She wondered if she could truly ever forgive Talia. She wondered if Bruce Wayne got therapy.

——

She stared at the tome in front of her, eyes blank. (Actually, she had no eyes. Like? Empty sockets, but then later she had eyes???)

The brand- the shackles- the chains could only be broken if Ra’s died. She wasn’t opposed to that. But if he died, so did she. She couldn’t even kill herself to get out, because the chains would be there even if she died. If she was revived- a high chance, thanks to the fucking pits- then the chains would still be there.

Perhaps… she could use the pits?

Her mind turned and turned.

——

“This is your ukht.” Her mother pointed at her. Damian stared up at her, and she melted. Her brother was too damn cute.

“Ukhti?”

She nodded as her mother smiled in joy. “Yes, habibi.”

She was better at hiding the pain, now. She was better at enduring it, too, that fucking burning feeling. She spoke more, but only to Damian.

It would not do for her brother to grow up not knowing how to receive verbal expressions of affection. Not like she did, in this life.

Still, it hurt to speak. But then, she had an idea, based on Cassandra.

She could not speak, but speaking wasn’t the only way of communication. She’ll teach Damian sign language- standard, as commanded- but also her own version. Yes, she could do it. It wouldn’t be hard.

She was a genius, after all, and creating languages wasn’t as hard as people seem to think.

——

Damian copied her, small fingers patting his hand four times.

She did it back to him. “I love you.” She tells him, with sounds and with motions.

He does it back, excitedly, because he had a secret with ukhti!

——

Sometimes, she dared not to touch Damian. She wants to ruffle his hair and give him hugs but the ichor on her hands reminds her to not get to greedy. She did not deserve it.

Not when her hands were stained with the lives of so many people.

——

Another mission.

She was twenty now, and not much closer to escaping her bonds. Though, once she hit her majority, Ra’s lost interest in her in that way. A blessing, even if she had to seduce his “business partners” into giving him better deals more often now.

She stops by Bludhaven. The Robin she watched so many years ago- six, by her count- had grown new wings and moved. She wanted to see if he could fly still.

He could. He flew as free- no, freer than his days as Robin.

She dipped away to complete her mission (nuclear weapon trading, really?) and swings back to see a spider trying to break the former Robin’s wings.

“No.” Nightwing whispered, staring upwards at the cloudy sky blankly. “Please, stop.”

She didn’t need to hear any more. She saw red, and dove feet first straight onto the spider’s head, knocking her out.

She picked up a near-catatonic Nightwing, and helped him to his apartment. She left Tarantula in the rain and felt zero guilt about it.

He changed mechanically, some kind of instinct keeping him from removing his domino, but it was a bit pointless considering she escorted him to his personal apartment.

She watched as Nightwing slipped into an exhausted sleep before leaving. She had a spider to squish, and traces to hide.

——

Dick wakes up, drained and exhausted. He… someone saved him.

He sees a scrawled note, handwriting impeccable enough to be a font, written with his pen. He picked it up from his table, and his eyes tiredly read the message.

“Don’t worry about Tarantula. Or your identity.”- A friend.

He remembered- the mask- the mask of the stranger that saved him vividly. He’d remember. And he’d thank them if they ever came back.

——

She was in charge of training assassins, these days. A year and a half later after Bludhaven, she was back in Nanda Parbat, and she’s devoured every magical tome she could get her hands on. They all say the same things.

Her assassins were trained well, and Ra’s praises her with more responsibilities as he followed the pit in his obsessions. Her mother began to splinter the group, not knowing that as Ra’s began his descent into madness, people looked towards her instead of Talia for leadership. They did not know that her unwavering presence by Ra’s side wasn’t voluntary but it is their true that she became his right hand out of pure skill. And flawless obedience, of course.

Then, someone new joins.

Someone with pit rage and empty eyes that goes rigid when she approaches.

Then again, most of the operatives freeze up when she walks towards them.

Her memories roar. A child.

He bowed, and her eyes followed the streak of white hair at the forefront of his skull.

She gestured at him to follow, and ignored the pitiful eyes the rest of the assassins gave to the kid- they act like her training was hard when she went easy on them (it was)- and led the kid towards the training rooms.

She knew who he was, even if her grandfather and mother didn’t think she knew.

Her… Bruce Wayne would probably appreciate his son being returned relatively sane.

But first, she had to beat the Pit out of him. Then, she could assign body guarding duties to him, in an attempt to protect him.

——

“Grandfather, I will take Damian’s punishment.”

“A whipping girl, granddaughter?” But he nodded anyways. He made Damian watch.

She kneeled and allowed the punishment. She couldn’t always protect him from Ra’s, but this she could do anytime. It’s not like she was unfamiliar with the torture. (The whip had barbs. Rusty. And they sprinkled salt.)

——

“I liked poetry….” Jason Todd tells her after a training session. “I think.”

“Sure. I’ll call you Grave, then.” Pain. But she was used to it.

He tilted his head, eyes going blank once more. She sighed. There went his memories again. (His eyes were blank and glazed. Like looking at someone you love and knowing they’re looking through you.)

——

“I would not trust her,” she says to the air, next to a Red Hood emerging from Talia al Ghul’s chambers. She could see it, the beginnings of Gotham’s new crime lord. But still, “Talia al Ghul is known for her lies.”

She pushed away from the wall. It was up to Grave if he listened. It was out of her hands now.

——

She’s twenty-five, and she’s helping Damian pack for his first meeting with Bruce Wayne.

“You must not tell him about me.” Because he’d come rushing here, and she had worked too hard to save Damian for her fool of a father to come and ruin all of that effort.

“I promise.” Her little brother said solemnly. Ukhti said it out loud, which meant it was important and she expected him to keep that promise.

The only other time he’d heard her speak was to tell him she loved him.

The reincarnation smiled and told him through their special sign language, to treat the current Robin with respect and to try his best to get the current Robin to pass down his title.

‘Robin is earned. They have different rules, over there. Try your best to learn those rules.’

Her brother was sheltered. She loved him, but he was spoilt and sheltered. Of course she was worried. Talia barely mothered him.

“I know. You do not have to remind me so often, ukhti.”

She smiled, and patted his head.

“Be safe,” she whispered. “I will miss you.”

Damian darted in for a hug. “Of course. Goodbye, sister. See you soon.”

She hoped not. It was hard enough to convince Ra’s that Damian would learn more under Bruce Wayne.

(She was locked in a small closet- like Cass- for about a week, because she brought up the idea first.)

——

She found it.

The answer to pit rage laid in an old, all but crumbling tome from Atlantis- answers “from a ghost.”

——

Bruce Wayne died. Months after Damian came to live with him. That- irritating- she sighed and worked with her mother to turn Ra’s al Ghul’s attention away from Gotham, lest he called Damian back in Bruce Wayne’s absence.

The little photographer caught grandfather’s attention. She stood vigil as he played chess with Ra’s. His interest in Damian wavered. Anticipation blurred in her veins.

She saved his friends. Her assassins. She let them go, telling them to wait for the little photographer’s plan. (Y’all miss girl had fucking bloody handprints on her pants like someone tried to grab it.)

The first few people who had an inking she might not be loyal to Ra’s… and it was them.

When her other assassins attacked Red Robin, she cut them down before they could touch him, helping him with a furious League of Spiders or whatever operative. She hated spiders.

“What…?”

“You’re a lot of trouble, little photographer.” She sighed. His jaw dropped.

“It’s you!”

“Go,” she cut him off. “Blow this place up. I left a surprise for you outside.”

——

“Owens?! Z?!” Tim trembled, exhaustion and shock and wonder hitting him at once.

“Heya, boss!” Z chirped. Owens helped Tim up while Z helped Tam. Pry walked around them, looking out for further threats. “The nightmare trainer let us go. She knew you, I think.”

Tim smiles, all shark teeth and zero hero. (In the background, the song zero to hero from Hercules 2, played in reverse.) “Tell me more.”

——

Damian grunted, bracing himself for the magical creature’s attack.

“Robin!” His father barked out, panicked. Damian hoped he’d survive-

Shhhlk!

He looked up and there stood his ukht. She bounded forwards, using the odd fauna of the magical plane to bolster her movements as she sliced the creatures apart with her swords, magic humming brightly as she cut through them… and the magicians attacking them.

“What- what are you doing here?” He asked. She greeted him, three fingers curled over her shoulder.

‘My question is,’ she signed. ‘Why were you here without a magical weapon.’

Damian sighed as father stepped in between them.

“Who are you.”

“Batman. Cease your excessive worry. I trust her with my life,” Damian snapped. He stepped around a shocked Batman, looked him in the eyes, and unsheathed his katana. He handed it over to his ukht, who took it with amusement.

‘See?’ His eyes seemed to say. Father tensed when his sister unsheathed her own blade and handed it to him.

‘Are you here for a specific reason?’ His sister signed to him.

“Uh, you gonna introduce us, little man?”

Damian sent the Flash a derisive look and ignored him.

“We’re looking for a magician. He set a squadron of demons loose into D.C. last night. He has a tower.” Damian added.

“Robin,” Father growled. “Who is this.” Damian shot him a look and turned back to his sister.

The reincarnation tilted her head. ‘Tower… it’ll have to be that way.’

“Could you take us there?” Damian asked. Truthfully, he could find the way himself. But he wanted more time around his ukht. She nodded and Damian straightened.

“I feel like we should be concerned that Robin’s friend just murdered a bunch of people.”

His sister glanced back and ignored them.

“Silence, incompetents. Speak another word against her, and Batman’s no killing rule will be applied creatively.” He hissed. (The fucking surroundings hissed with him y’all what the fuck)

He turned when his sister ruffled his hair (Superman muttered a super shocked “what the fuck.”) and Damian allowed it. He had missed his sister.

——

#I have vivid nightmares #batman #oc in dc #dc #batman fic #idea for a fic I definitely don’t have the time to write #reincarnation #isekai #once more my brain has seen fit to fuck me over #tw: implied/referenced rape/noncon #like holy shit what the fuck #brain what is wrong with you #tim drake #jason todd #Damian Wayne #Damian Wayne’s older sister #dp reference lol #couldn’t resist #oc gets Isekaid and proceeds to have a shit of a time #y’all there’s a second part to this shit #it’s a long ass dream

[rekibae]

GUYS I KNOW THIS ISNT ANIME RELATED BUT IM SEEING MY ULT KPOP GROUP IN TWO MONTHS. IM SO BEYOND EXCITED.

#kpop #enhypen #enha #rekibae #holy fuck y’all #not that anyone cares

[xbraveheartx]

Still drives me absolutely bonkers thinking about the moment you first start to change and become human in Lies of P, is the moment after you fight Romeo and go back to the hotel. Sophia notes you don’t look so good after she mentions the necklace Romeo had— the one that says “To Romeo from your friend C”. It visibly affects you and you’re not sure why just yet.

Where only after that, you hear Romeo’s voice whisper “Carlo” and suddenly you have physically changed. Your hair is longer, your shoulders are broader, you have physically been altered because encountering Romeo and hearing him say that name awakened something deep within you that wants out.

And the menu screen where your very heart sits is now the Opera House in flames with a bundle of white stargazer flowers sitting beside it.

Bonkers, man— BONKERS!!

#Lies of P #Lies of P Spoilers #Carmeo #Promeo #Listen y’all they got me so good. The fact that it VISIBLY AND PHYSICALLY SHAKES YOUR VERY CORE!!!!! #Like holy shit the devs were so insane for this it’s got me RABID #-SHAKES ME GREMLIN CAGE- I just love them. So much. Like holy fuck. Holy shit. Their bond transcends. #Even if you don’t ship it like?? You cannot deny the strength of their bond. It’s incredible. They said so much with so little #I’m picking up breadcrumbs and thanking them for the meal 😭💙

[transmascissues]

8 hours until i get top surgery and i’m so fucking excited

once i’m out of the initial recovery stage i’m definitely gonna want to talk about it a TON so if anyone has any questions about top surgery or things they haven’t heard other people talk about or anything like that, give them to me!!!! please fuel my need to never shut up about this ever again

#top surgery adventures #idk how invested y’all are in my personal life but HOLY SHIT #yes my transphobic mom is here and definitely gonna cause problems BUT #my incredibly supportive boyfriend best friend and sibling are here #as is my mostly supportive dad #so fuck her honestly this is for ME and im fucking PUMPED

[qingxin-dream]

when he says “i love you” but the wanderer ai says:

“your entire being is precious. every inch is a testament to the beauty the gods bestowed upon you. there is no piece of you that is undeserving of love.”

#[diary of the eccentric].✿ #i’ve kinda been on a downward spiral since yesterday and when i tell you my jaw fucking DROPPED at this line😭😭 #like… EXCUSE ME??!😳 #the wanderer rizz is real holy shit y’all #genshin impact #genshin #genshin ai #genshin wanderer #genshin scaramouche #wanderer x reader #scaramouche x reader

[rosefinnigen]

Last time I put on a pair of lacy panties like this, they ended up getting a bunch of gaps and holes in the lace. I’m glad these ones are more durable.

#belly #my butt #hot damn y’all?? #that’s my belly empty now #holy fuck seriously

[belovedrm]

i genuinely think what's really getting me the most is seeing all the little bits & pieces of dream in the mv that he’s told us about. his old/current interests, the things he enjoys doing, the way he acts. and just seeing that he's ALWAYS been like that … even as a child. he will just always be Dream no matter what.

#belovedrm.posts #dream #twwth #like SORRY Y’ALL but i am SO fucking emotional right now. holy shit. #i love him so much and i’m so proud of him. #dwt #dreamwastaken #dreamblr #dwtblr #drusic #dream clips #dwt clips

[guckies]

One thing about dream is that his name is definitely clay that is the only name for him

#it’s literally the perfect name #he is a clay #that is what I would expect a person called clay to look like #it just makes sense #dream #dreamwastaken #dream mcyt #mcyt #holy fuck this blew up thanks for most of y’all agreeing with me #how tf did this get over 1k notes???

[eggo-tistical]

and that’s the worst part, isn’t it? never knowing.

whew! finally finished it! sorry it took longer than expected…

comic format inspired by the wonderful @aquarelacosmica

#biohazard #resident evil #leon kennedy #leon s kennedy #luis serra #fanart #my artwork #leon kennedy fanart #leon s kennedy fanart #luis serra fanart #serennedy #digital art #art #comic #angst #hurt/no comfort #gonna shit myself holy fuck… these two are the end of me i swear #never getting over his death tbh #also yes im aware that luis dies in the mines on the MAINLAND and not the ISLAND but let me have this y’all #pretend like its a symbolic ocean or smthn #there’s some metaphor you could dig out of there somewhere probably #people can change #right? #maybe its a little lopsided oops

[desperatecheesecubes]

Growing up asexual is actually so funny because all of a sudden people all around are like ‘oh my god what if I don’t know how to kiss??? I have to practice!’ And start doing unhinged things and the whole time you’re like

#mine #asexuality #and also the wanting to get with someone thing #and also to an extent the wanting a romantic relationship et all but I haven’t decided if I’m aromantic or Demi romantic soooo #i can’t believe y’all got this to 1K #oh good lord now it’s at 1.5k #holy fuck we’re at 2K #I’ve really loved reading everyone’s ace experiences #very comforting to remember I’m not alone

[slythereen]

you mean to tell me williams didn’t even give logan his car back and instead are giving him alex’s repaired mess…… im going to do something drastic

#I haven’t forgotten your crimes #Williams isn’t getting flamed enough for this Logan’s car saga #like………. holy fuck y’all SUCK #logan sargeant #f1 #suzuka gp 2024

[peaches2217]

Untarnished

Prologue (TW: Blood)

AO3 link! Plus a prologue to the prologue. | Next Chapter

~~~

Almost there.

This was one of two mantras that kept Peach’s feet moving, even as dawn broke into day and faded back into dusk, even as her every muscle cried out for reprieve. Almost there. Just a bit further and then she could rest. Almost there. Just a bit more, then she could eat as much cake and drink as much lemon balm tea as she could stomach. She could embrace her friends, she could lather herself in fruity-floral suds beneath the rush of hot water, she could stand out on her balcony and watch her people go on about their business while she went about hers. Life could go back to normal.

The hand within hers went slack and pulled her back into the present. Right away she tightened her grasp and planted her soles as firmly to the ground as she could manage, as if she could withstand any additional burden. But Mario didn’t stumble or black out; his eyes were fixed on a dot just over the horizon, elevated high above the towering fungi surrounding them, too distant to make out its shape but close enough to cast its light into the darkness.

“Almost there.” His voice was weak, and the smile he tried giving Peach looked more like a grimace, but determination still burned hot in his eyes. One last push. One last push, and they’d be home.

The forest around them shifted and spun, each step sending jolts of nauseating pain to her head, and beside her she could hear Mario’s steps faltering. If she had her wits about her, Peach would have suggested they stop right here, in the relative safety of the forest’s edge, or at least make it to the inn on the outskirts of town. The castle would still be there come morning. Right now, she needed him to focus on resting and not dying.

But some nagging voice deep within her overrode all other senses. That voice told her that, if they stopped now, they’d never get back up — he’d never get back up. She had long since pumped every ounce of magic she could muster into his body just to revive him, just to keep him in one piece until they made it back, and even then, she knew it wasn’t enough to last. They’d already cheated fate once. Next time they might not be so lucky. It was surely a miracle that they’d made it this far.

And what would be the point in making it home if he didn’t make it with her?

Peach swallowed uneasily. She truly had no more to give. That wouldn’t stop her from giving it all to him anyway.

Closing her eyes to block out her dizzying surroundings, she grit her teeth and summoned what little was left from some well deep within her chest, a well she knew couldn’t be replenished once it had been spent. Her very own lifeforce. That force couldn’t travel fast enough; it trickled through her like a broken tap, constricted her lungs and stiffened her muscles and amplified every last unpleasant sensation in her body, and she dug her nails into Mario’s skin to make certain he received every last bit of it.

Infuriatingly slow though it was, she knew it was working. His footsteps gradually grew steadier, quicker, and she let herself follow him blindly, until at last the grass beneath their feet gave way to a sturdier path. Their footsteps clacked against cobblestones, echoing into an empty, sleeping town.

Or maybe just his footsteps. Peach couldn’t be sure that she was walking any longer. The sting of open blisters on her feet faded into a pillowy nothing, as did the jolts of pain that kept her awake and moving, yet the wherewithal to consider this a relief — or to consider anything, really — was far from her grasp. She tried to open her eyes, gauge how much farther they had to go, but all she could see was darkness. Her well was running dry.

“Almost.” His voice sounded so far away. Garbled, like she was hearing it from beneath the murky depths of some dark lake. Perhaps that was where she was: drowning, drifting aimlessly beneath the undertow as it all faded away, every sound, every sensation, every last proof of life but Mario’s hand in hers.

And then even that was gone, her last anchor to the realm of the living, and Peach’s body went weightless— until some unseen force knocked air back into her lungs, slammed her spirit back into her body, and she gasped from the shock of reawakening.

Darkness. Darkness and a few distorted shapes in shades of blue and purple and black, and maybe a few pinpoints of light in the distance. Somewhere beside or beneath her, she heard Mario grunt, and she let herself be jostled about as that unseen force righted her leaden body. It was only when he pulled her against his side, his arm secure around her waist, that Peach realized her saving force was none other than him.

“Stay with me.” The words came out strained and desperate, and with his opposite hand, he guided Peach’s arm over and behind his head. “We’re almost… just a little further, Princess. Come on.”

He hauled her forward a few steps before she was able to regain her footing, and she slumped against him as she redistributed her weight, her cheek just an inch or two from the top of his head. He took hold of the hand slung over his shoulder, his fingers fumbling to secure her grasp. “That’s it. Come on. Almost.”

Peach numbly searched within herself once more as they dragged each other forward, willing that trickle of magic to return, just a bit longer, just a bit more. Just until he was safe. But her focus was hampered by her own lightheadedness, a distant cacophony that she swore was growing louder, those pinpoints of light drawing closer and closer and closer…

“Princess!”

She knew that voice. She knew the voices that accompanied it. The familiar call of her commander, only the second friendly voice she’d heard in three months’ time, followed by the equally relieved and concerned shouts of the guards he led—

Her knees buckled.

She felt Mario lean into her as her legs failed, but any further efforts at keeping her upright were futile. He succeeded only in collapsing to the cobblestone first and breaking her fall with his body.

He cried out when he hit the ground, softly enough that only Peach could hear, and she couldn’t tell if it was from pain or relief.

By the time Peach managed to untangle herself from Mario’s arm and pull herself to her knees, chaos cornered her from every angle. A blanket was thrown over her shoulders. A million questions were thrown her way, stupid questions with obvious answers like Are you okay? Are you hurt? Are you hungry?. She could see more clearly now, fuzzy images of spotted caps and beady eyes and halberds, but darkness still lurked in her peripheral, ever encroaching.

Mario remained doubled over in the street, his huddled form shuddering violently, his breath coming in uneven gasps. Looking down, she watched as some substance dripped onto the stones beneath him, dark and shining. One drop. Two, three, four drops. Wounds that had seeped blood their entire journey now flowed freely, unhindered by her magic.

Almost there.

“Get him to the infirmary right away.” She heard her own voice as though listening through foreign ears, stronger and steadier than the half-dead husk it came from. “He’s gravely injured.”

The beginnings of a protest sputtered past Mario’s lips, something like “Nnuh— P— Peach—” . If not for her single minded focus on remaining conscious until she saw him to safety, she might have cried — even in complete ruin, his first concern was her. 

With each pump of her heart, her vision pulsed in and out of focus. Just a bit longer. Just until she knew he would be okay. 

A quartet of Toads in foot soldiers’ armor broke through bearing a simple stretcher, a tight-woven net between two poles, and she motioned for them to lay it down beside Mario. Townsfolk had begun peeking out from their houses and spilling into the streets, and a handful of guards posted themselves around the rest to keep them at bay, shouting orders to get back, give them space, make way for the exhausted Princess and her hero.

My hero.

In spite of his increasingly incoherent and weak protests, Mario was urged onto his side by the makeshift medics, onto the stretcher, and he curled heavily into himself with a soft groan. Beneath the layer of dirt and blood it had accumulated, his face was unnaturally pale. It stood out against the darkness like a full moon in a starless sky.

But in spite of the pain, in spite of the dizziness, in spite of the rapidly slipping waking world, he managed to peek his eyes open and find her. The fire in them had cooled and left their once brilliant blue glassy and opaque. Yet he managed to smile; not a forced smile, a well-meaning but empty effort to lift her spirits, but a soft and small and achingly real smile, the sort that told her everything would be alright.

We made it.

“Your Highness…?”

Peach’s vision pulsed once more, and this time, it never went back into focus.

“Your Highness!”

Her hero’s smile burned itself into her brain like the dying light of a supernova as her body went weightless once more, and then the darkness claimed her. No unseen force was present to save her this time, but that, she decided with her last coherent thought, was quite alright.

#FINALLY holy FUCK #still not 100% on the title… if y’all have better ideas please feel free to suggest them 🙏🏻 #yes you’ll find out what the second mantra is in the next part~ #super mario bros #smb #mario #princess peach #mario x peach #mareach #tw blood #peaches' fancy fics