#guess this is what we're doing now | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

little-pondhead · 2 months

Text

The Folly of Men -

Chapter 1: #355E3B

AO3 - MASTERPOST

[GENERAL TW: Swearing, lukewarm violence, lots of POV changes, and mild body horror.]

[Fair warning, guys: Canon is a ball pit, and I’m throwing a baby into it. I have no clue what's happening. Feel free to point out mistakes!]

Danny was starting to hate the color green. It was the color of death.

Green reminded him of the portal that killed him, and the electricity that was constantly humming under his skin. It reminded him of being on the wrong end of an ecto-blaster and having to dodge for dear life. It reminded him of choking plants that swallowed him whole and tried to turn him into fertilizer. It reminded him of his glowing eyes and how they seemed to take up his entire face when he looked at himself in the mirror.

And right now, as he lay weakly on his side, grasping at fresh wounds with shaky fingers as he tried to ice them closed, the green blood that was splattered everywhere reminded him he wasn’t human.

Not anymore.

Green was a familiar color to Ra’s al Ghul. It was the color of life.

Green reminded him of the Lazarus Pits, mostly. When it was the reason he’d lived such a long life, how could it not be the first thing he thought of? Green also reminded him of his cloak and the warmth it wrapped him in during the cold desert nights when his wife was still alive. Of the beauty he saw in the natural world and why he wanted to protect it. It reminded him of his green eyes that have been passed down through his very few children and grandchildren. Green was the color of the al Ghuls and represented the power he’d amassed through centuries of hard work.

And right now, as he stood before the Well of Sins, Ra’s was reminded of a secret contract that was buried deep within his personal records, and the monster he’d made it with. The Gardener, the creature called itself, was a being who had crawled out of a Lazarus Pit years ago in search of Ra’s. Its flesh was made from thorny vines and grasses intertwined, and its eyes were tiny red blooms that glowed and made him feel sick just thinking about it. It had forced him into the contract, exchanging power and knowledge in return for a promise of help in the near future.

‘Near future,’ my ass. Timothy Drake's fleeting voice flickered in his mind, and he could only agree with his subconscious's crude words. It seemed like the only appropriate term as it had already been several centuries since the contract was made, and the being had yet to claim its part of the deal.

He watched, mind racing, as the Well of Sins started swirling frantically. He was alone, with his attendants on standby. Should he call them in? No. Whatever was causing the strange reaction in the pool had something to do with that contract. He could feel it. A power was tugging at his heart, drawing him closer to the edge of the green waters. He loathed to admit it, but this was beyond his scientific understanding. He just knew that every time he tried to look away and leave, his whole body felt like it was alight with flame.

So he stood. And he stared. For hours, possibly, before the first sign of something new caught his attention. A screeching sound was echoing from the bottom of the pool. It slowly got louder and higher pitched as the stone floor started glowing so bright Ra's almost risked the pain of glancing away.

A large head was making its way through the bottom of the pool. It went slowly to accommodate large shoulders, followed by a wide chest and narrow waist. The figure paid no mind to the churning of the Well of Sins and broke the surface of the waters with the ease of a seasoned swimmer. The screeching sound echoed wildly, bouncing unnaturally throughout the chamber, sounding more like incomprehensible words. Ra's wanted to plug his ears with wax and banish the figure back where it came from. Instead, he didn't even twitch an eye.

The Gardener stood before him. And it was carrying a body.

"Master of Lazarusss," it hissed, inclining its head in acknowledgment, but making no move to exit the pool. "Too long has it been, has it not? I've come to collect on my part of the deal."

Ra's nodded in return. Higher being or not, he refused to bow to anyone. "I've expected this, Gardener." He said roughly. Despite learning their language years ago, the sharp chirps and clicks made by the dead were difficult to sound out. It was like he was trying to mimic a broken radio. "Although it's taken longer than I expected for your arrival."

The Gardener clicked its beak in annoyance. "Don't give me flowery words, Pretender. It was not my choice whether to appear before you or not. The Scepter of our realm visited me long ago and commanded me thus; I only now see her vision behind it."

"I...see." He did not see, thank you very much. That was more information in two sentences than he'd ever managed to get from the Gardener. Were there others at play in this little contract of theirs? He did not like the idea of that. "And I assume this whole thing has something to do with the boy in your arms?"

The Gardener let out a low humming sound that seemed to originate from its chest and echo in Ra’s bones. It glanced down, turning the body over gently to let Ra's see his face. The boy was just a child, no older than sixteen. He was deathly pale and seemed eerily stiff, just as if rigor mortis had set in. His white hair was plastered to his forehead from the water, and his clothes were nothing more than rags. Thick green blood was leaking from several wounds and pooling underneath his skin. It wasn't hard to guess what the Gardener was about to ask.

"This is our Guardian and one of the last of his kind. His haunt is not safe anymore, and I task you with his care for the foreseeable future."

Without waiting for a response, the Gardener sloshed forward to set the boy oh-so-gently upon the edge of the pool, taking care that his thorns did not pierce the child. A few vines cupped his face gently as if the Gardener was sad about the boy's state of being.

The assassin made no move to step forward and claim him. "What iske?" He asked. Ra’s voice caught on the last syllable, and he had to repeat the question again properly. Annoying.

The Gardener didn’t seem to mind and just stepped back, relinquishing its hold completely. "He is our Guardian." It repeated. "Care for him well. His fraid will be on the hunt for him and return any harm tenfold. But earn his loyalty, and the power of the Infinite Realms will be at your fingertips. Good luck, Master of Lazarus."

With that, the Gardener disappeared beneath the waves of the Well of Sins, and the waters calmed. The only proof that someone had been there was the sopping wet teen that lay at Ra's feet.

Ra's stared at the boy. The tugging in his heart was a bind, he realized. And it was tying him to the boy. Well, caring for a dead child shouldn't be that hard. Despite his disagreement with Talia over the matter, Jason Todd had turned out just fine, hasn’t he?

With the contract heavy on his mind, Ra's turned and left the boy lying there, clicking his jaw and calling for his attendants to collect him. The Lazarus Pits had gifted him with a new heir, it seemed.

“WHAT DID YOU DO?”

In another world, a redheaded girl was on the edge of a rampage. Her scream echoed down the suburban street her house was on, and the neighbors sighed quietly and locked their windows shut, not realizing the severity of the question. They were used to this family's antics, and the girl's screaming as a result.

But this could not be written off as 'family antics.'

Jasmine Fenton, nicknamed ‘Jazz,’ was positively furious. Red-faced, she stood before her parents with steam coming from her ears and a bat in hand.

“Jazzy-pants, we-” her father tried.

“Nope!” Jazz put up a hand to stop him. “Never mind, I don’t want to hear it. I already know.”

She whirled around, tuning out her parents' protests as she stormed through their house. Correction, her parent’s house. If she had her way, Jazz would never see these metal and unloving walls ever again. Neither would her brother, once she found him.

Her phone rang, and she flipped it open with a snap, leaving the bat at the end of the hallway. Only a few people had her number, and it sure as hell wasn’t her parents calling her. “What.” She barked, shoving the phone between her shoulder and ear as she dug through Danny’s closet. His bug-out bag hadn’t been moved.

“It’s Tucker.”

“We have a code green and a code yellow.” She ground out. Good, the ecto-dejecto shots were up to date. The less time she spends in that god-forsaken lab, the better.

“Fuck.” Tucker swore. Rustling was heard and she heard another voice in the background. “I’m putting you on speaker.”

Jazz re-packed the bag quickly, adding in some non-essentials that she knew Danny would appreciate. After it was settled on her shoulders, she switched the phone back to her hand for a better grip. “Is Sam there?”

“I’m here.” The girl responded.

Jazz tripped over her bedroom carpet in her rush to her room. She cursed but recovered and started ransacking her closet and drawers. “Good. One of you needs to contact Danielle. Our parents sold Danny out, and the GIW took him while I was gone yesterday. I’m going ghost and getting him back. Tell Danielle she’s in danger since they have her ecto-signature now.”

“We’re going with you.” Sam said firmly. There was more rustling, and Jazz guessed they were looking for their own emergency bags. “I don’t care how long it takes; we’ll get him back.”

“Are you going to shut down the portal?” Tucker asked.

Jazz paused, considering it. In the original plan, Danny was in charge of shutting down the portal while Jazz and the others took care of the Fentons, GIW, and everything else. It was personal for him; his final resting place. But now that Danny was missing, and they needed a reliable escape route.

“Not permanently.” She decided. “I’ll figure out how to turn it off temporarily, or put a shield up, but Danny will need to be the one to make that call.”

Tucker started typing furiously on his laptop, muttering under his breath until he got to the file he wanted. “Sam and I will take care of the town defenses, and Dani’s on her way from New Zealand. She’ll be here in a few hours. I’m sending you a bug; plug it into the Fenton’s security systems, and it’ll lock them out of the house for now. Only do it after you’re done in the labs. Sam’s gone off and is pulling some strings to get all the ghosts in town back to the Zone. I’ll start tracking Danny and shutting down all the Fenton and GIW equipment I can find.”

“Thanks, Tucker. I’ll meet you guys at Nasty Burger in two hours; pass that message to Danielle.”

“Sure thing. Oh, and Jazz?”

“Yeah, Tuck?” Jazz started counting her hidden wads of cash, making sure it was all there. They never wanted to believe the Fentons would go this far, but she was glad they’d made contingency plans just in case.

She could hear Tucker’s silent snarl as he said his parting remark. “Leave enough of them behind for the rest of us.”

Jazz laughed, a little hysterical. “I’ll try.” She said, bidding him farewell. Honestly, she wasn’t even sure she could look at her parents ever again. But she knew, deep in her bones, that if they tried to stop her, there wouldn’t even be ashes left from the hell she would raise.

Gotham was caught in a storm. It was one of those ugly, howling summer storms that threw water in your eyes and bit your skin with a vengeance. Damian squinted, trying to make out the sight of Spoiler and Signal through the rain, but even their bright uniforms were lost in the shadows.

He tightened his grip on his grappling hook as a particularly harsh wind tried to throw him around like a ragdoll. Water seeped into his collar, making him shiver. A beep echoed in his ear, and he risked taking one hand off the line to answer his comms.

"Robin," Oracle was practically shouting in his ear over the storm. "Signal made it to the Cave. Spoiler is rounding up Condiment King, and then she'll do the same. You can go back now."

Damian tsked. "Father is still out here," he replied. "I shall not return until he does."

"Robin-" Oracle sighed.

Another gust of wind made him grunt, and he cut the call to refocus on scaling the building. The only good thing that came from such a wild storm was that most of the villains were smart enough to stay inside. Splitting up in such conditions always left a sour taste in his mouth, but Damian understood it was necessary to cover as much ground as possible during times of emergency.

He wasn't sure this counted as an emergency, but Todd was certainly treating it as such. The citizens of Crime Alley were being hit hard. Enough to the point where Red Hood had openly invited the Bats onto his turf to help with the flooding and evacuation from some unstable buildings. Batman and Red Robin had gone, leaving Robin and Orphan to cover their patrol routes.

Finally, finding purchase on the rough brick, Damian quickly hauled himself up to safety. Some of his equipment was ruined, and his costume was soaked. Truly, this storm had come out of nowhere.

His comms clicked back to life. "Robin." Cain's clipped tone was somehow louder than Oracle's voice.

"I'm here," he replied, scowling at the oily mud on his shoes. Damned pollution.

"Home," Orphan said simply.

Damian scowled even harder. He could argue with Oracle without issue, but he barely won when it came to speaking with Orphan. "...Fine." He sniffed. "I shall return."

"Good." Damian could hear the smile in her voice. "Agent A has cocoa."

"I'll consider it." He said stiffly. He imagined his adoptive sister smiling slyly and glancing toward the sky before the comms switched off, leaving him to his thoughts again. After checking his grapple to ensure it still worked, he started picking his way through the building at a snail's pace, letting himself get distracted whenever he spotted someone in trouble. The Batcave would be warmer and dryer than the streets, but not everyone had a dry place to return to. Every little bit helped in the long run, and even Damian wouldn't pass by a lost child in the rain.

The only thing that bothered him more than the dark clouds overhead and fresh hail on the way home was the unnatural feeling on his spine. It felt like someone was watching him, judging him. But when he looked, nobody was there.

The stars were gone.

Danny felt weightless as he floated, staring at the space where the stars were supposed to be. He felt lighter than normal. Danny was surrounded by colors that flowed and ebbed like the tide, taking him deeper into this mysterious space. Golden fish and silver deer wove past him as fire and ice trailed behind, and yet he couldn’t seem to muster up the energy to get up. He just laid there silently. A bone deep exhaustion was settling into him, but sleep refused him.

“Ghost Child.”

Oh, Danny was dreaming. He was already asleep.

He didn’t turn his head, nor acknowledge when the stars returned to his line of sight. The stars wrapped around him like a curtain, cutting off the rest of the dreamscape. Two bright eyes, burning like red giants, peered down at him as thin hands cupped his body.

“Ghost Child.” The voice repeated again, speaking in his mind even as the words were swallowed by the silence of space.

Danny turned his head slowly. “Nocturn,” he murmured. These too, were snatched from his throat and lost. The cold seeped into his chest and he hiccuped. He couldn’t speak. Not that he really wanted to.

Luckily, Nocturn seemed to understand him just fine. He cradled Danny gently, bringing him closer to his chest. Something shifted in the fabric of space, and suddenly Danny was being laid to rest on the smooth stone of a crescent moon, as pearly white as his own hair. He sighed as the coolness of the moon seeped into his body, soothing aches and burns he didn’t remember getting.

“Where are we?” He wanted to ask.

Nocturn blinked slowly at him, his face twisted down towards Danny. His ram’s horns glinted as a glowing blue jay landed on them and started preening itself. Danny wanted to fly with the bird. His body didn't move.

“Sleep, Ghost Child.” Nocturn hummed. The moon vibrated beneath Danny, soothing the electric currents that kept him awake no matter what he did. Danny’s eyes started sliding shut as Nocturn’s song wrapped around him like a lullaby.

The others… Danny’s mind whispered.

Are safe. The song replied. Rest, young guardian. Your people are safe. You did well.

That was all he needed to hear. Danny let himself fall into slumber, relief flooding his mind. Yes, his people were safe. He did well. He deserved some rest.

As the young ghost fell into a dreamless sleep, a real sleep, Nocturn gently tucked the boy in with a blanket made from his own starry robes, shifting the fabric once more to hide away his core, and the boy who was resting on it. The bluejay on his head chirped indignantly from the movement and flew away, leaving a trail of smoke behind.

Nocturn paid it no mind. Warnings from Fate were never a good idea to ignore, but the bird was but a memory of a life that had long since passed. It only stuck around because of the dreams that kept feeding it. The ghost let his lullaby continue as he returned to his work, taking care to move slowly.

Undergrowth was taking care of his physical body, so he would care for the boy's mind. Vortex was off to round up the little ghostlings who had scattered like dandelion seeds, and the Master of Time was keeping an eye on the rest of Phantom's fraid while they rampaged in the mortal realms. After the stunt he pulled to protect the Realms, it was the least the elder ghosts could do.

"Is the boy awake?" Ra's asked sharply, entering the private rooms he had set aside for the boy.

The attending nurse, an older man born with no tongue, bowed his head and signed, 'No, sir. Vitals are off. He is a cold corpse.'

Ra's regarded the boy. It has been several weeks since the Gardener dropped the boy off in his care, and he hadn't awoken once throughout the entire time. He truly looked like a regular dead teenager, if you exclude the unnaturally white hair.

The Demon's Head bent over the boy's bed, tugging open an eyelid to see if he would react. Nothing. However, he noted the boy's eyes were green, which he was mildly pleased about. Green was such a lovely color, and this boy seemed surrounded in it.

A sharp knock echoed from the door, and Ra's granted the other party permission to enter. His best phlebotomist, a man named Paz, entered, holding a stack of papers as thick as his thumb. He bowed to Ra's as soon as he saw him.

"The results?" Ra's asked.

Paz immediately handed over his work, fully confident that Ra's understood everything he'd written. "For all purposes, the boy is dead." He said in a thick accent. He spoke in halted Arabic, as he'd only lived in 'Eth Alth'eban for a short time. "He has no circulation. No heart to move blood, or lungs to breathe. We must move him every hour to prevent postmortem lividity. He has undergone an extensive autopsy process, but it seems it was stopped before his brain was removed. No organs remain in his body otherwise.”

Ra's examined the papers. They were reports from different scientists and doctors, all of whom had been assigned to examine and work on the boy. Most of them said the same thing. The boy was dead and had been for a while. If the Well of Sins didn't do anything when he first exited the waters, what good would it do now?

He flicked his eyes up. "But you think otherwise," he stated.

Paz nodded enthusiastically. "The boy is dead, but his blood is alive!" He tapped a green folder that was poking out from the bottom of the pile. Ra's shuffled the papers off to the nurse and opened it. Printed off charts had been scribbled over with Paz’s frantic notes, documenting his thought process.

The phlebotomist rambled excitedly as his boss read his work, gesturing wildly. “It’s incredible! Most of his red blood cells have died off, and he has an abnormal amount of white blood cells, which indicate some kind of infection. But his plates-“

‘Platelets.’

“Platelets,” Paz nodded his thanks to the nurse for correcting his speech. “The boy’s platelets are still alive, and are actually trying to heal his injuries! We recorded a time-lapse last week to confirm it. The process is incredibly slow, even compared to human healing, but there’s a difference! Because of the absence of red blood cells, the plasma left in his body has practically doubled in volume, even though there’s no circulation to keep it moving. We’ve noticed a collection of stem cells at the base of his skull has started growing as well, and whatever it’s producing is being released into the body at regular intervals.”

“What kind of cells are they?”

“Unsure. At first, we thought it was cancerous in nature.” Paz tapped the corner of the folder again, prompting Ra’s to turn the page. “And while these cells are certainly growing as fast as unchecked cancer, rather than doing harm, we’ve taken samples and noted that they’re merging with whatever original matter has been left in the boy’s body. Bonding, like glue! The healing process is periodically speeding up with every release, the plasma has started circulating on its own, and the white blood cell count is diminishing. Honestly, I’ve never seen anything like it! It’s filling in for everything that’s missing, and keeping what is there, alive. Dr. Vanessa hypothesized that within the month, it may even start replacing the boy’s organs.”

Ra’s looked up from the research. “These photos look like plant cells, is this an example or actual recordings of the activity?”

Paz wrinkled his nose. “Those are evidence of the activity. For some reason, cellulose is present within his body, and the mysterious stem cells seem to be a mix of both plant and animal matter. It’s hard to track even with our technology, but it looks like the cellulose is forming a sort of…skeleton? Frame? I’m not sure what the right word is, but Dr. Vanessa says they might start regrowing in another month. If that’s true, this would be a huge breakthrough in the realm of organ transplants and other medical fields!”

The Demon’s Head hummed, flipping through the work again and considering the man’s words. “Very good,” he praised. Paz beamed like a child at his words. “Unfortunately, I shall be releasing you of your duty, and your tongue is too loose for your head.”

“What-“ Paz’s eyes widened as he gurgled, his words cut off. Ra’s twisted his wrist, driving home the dagger he’d planted in the man’s heart. He had no use for men who talked too much.

Paz fell to the floor, convulsing as he tried to weakly remove the weapon still sticking out of his chest. His eyes rolled back in his head, and he went pale as his blood seeped out onto the floor.

Ra’s barely spared the dying man a glance, taking back the extra stack of papers from the nurse and neatly stepped around him to exit the room. “Clean that up,” he said over his shoulder.

The old nurse bowed his head, waiting patiently for the foolish doctor to finish dying before he got out the mop.

This is why the nurse had survived so long; he knew how to stay silent.

[Nocturn tucking Danny in to rest. Ghost speech says, "Rest well, ghost child"]

#pondhead writes #the folly of men fic #dpxdc #long post #really long post #no beta we die like Danny #I rewrote this three times #this was gonna be longer but the plot got away from me so we're doing more than one part now #the whole point of this is to get me back into writing more so i guess it's working??#i literally did so much googling for this #even watched timeline videos but i'm pretty sure i'm still wrong #literally what is dc lore anymore #i'd rather learn about kingdom hearts lore at this point #literally I am summoning all of my brain snails to bring this together #not medically accurate!!!#I am not a doctor I just took biology twice

95 notes · View notes

kineticallyanywhere · 2 months

Text

Monkey’s Paw pages 133-136 ( START HERE || ao3 || previous || next ) AU after episode 62. The Omega Dads try a more desperate gambit, but careful what you wish for. Our dads find alternate versions of themselves in a strange dreamscape. Ifyou die in the dream, doyou die in real life?

...heeeeeeeyyyyyyyyyy

#dndads #dungeons and daddies #fanart #what the heck happened last summer? uuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuhhhhhhhhhhh #anyones guess really #i other news s2 has been validating some of my plans for this comic in INSANE ways #hyped to be smug about it #also comfort drawing feels nice #i needed this back in my life #and i will no longer be spending my lunches being social in any way so i should have more drawing time! that turns into a plus i guess #i did some of this drawing during a lunch #also will be doing other job during lunch #monkeys paw #kineticallyart #if something looks worng or is missing uuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuh no it doesnt #its a dream we're fine #darryl totally hasn't forgotten that he should be bleeding right now nope #for the record it wasnt JUST the daunting amount of detail effort #that frankly i was losing track of #that made me take so long to get back to this #but its not NOT that yknow?#i decided i care more about pacing myself and getting it out than making it Perfect #which was always the goal with this thing

116 notes · View notes

faeriekit · 9 months

Text

Health and Hybrids (VI)👽👻💚

[I can't remember the original prompt posters for the life of me but here's a mashup between a cryptid!Danny, presumed-alien!Danny, dp x dc, and whatever prompt made the one body horror meat grinder fic.]

PART ONE is here PART TWO is here PART THREE is here PART FOUR is here and PART FIVE is here and this is part six💚 Ao3 Is here for all parts

Where we last left off... Danny and Bart are bros now. The Speedsters chat about the horribly injured entity their kid has decided is like a...pet? Theydk?

Trigger warnings for this story: body horror | gore | post-dissection fic | dehumanization (probably) | my awful attempts at following DC canon. On with the show.

💚👻👽👻💚

Danny wakes up to an unbridled wave of nostopdon’t.

…He rouses. His lungs flutter.

Danny flinches.

There’s something— it’s large and it’s green in a way that humans are not and it’s taller and wider than Danny’s human and the space it makes in Danny’s senses—

The red human Danny is too attached to now buzzes to his bedside, spilling worrywor/rynerv/ous all over Danny’s section of this abandoned hospital. His muscles tighten up to compensate; and when the green not-human adult gets closer, Danny pushes himself forward on his elbows— closer to his vibrating human, closer to a defensive formation.

The green thing moves and Danny can’t see the gesture. He bristles.

And then

Danny’s skull spl

its

down the middle.

Everything hurts and everything is on fire.

Danny screams.

And he screams.

And—

Danny isn’t moving— everything else moves when Danny screams but he isn’t moving— the fast human has gotten even faster and they’re zooming through the building, through rooms and past adult humans that Danny has never seen, and all Danny can do is sink his claws into the human and hope that it stays. That Danny stays. In its arms, and not next to— that.

The fast-buzzing human finds a dark room.

It shoves Danny and itself inside. Good.

They hide.

Even better.

Someone comes to the door, and Danny can feel the frigid heat of a blast forming in his fingers. But it’s only two of the humans Danny has already met. And another young human.

This one has light hair, he thinks. It shines in the light spreading out from the cracked doorway.

They talk and they don’t crowd his space but to be honest Danny would rather they did. There’s something horrible out there, and he knows these humans aren’t that bad and whatever green thing out there certainly is. They should all be safe in this nice dark room.

He makes a grabby hand. Come here. Get closer.

…One of them does. Great! Danny gently bats at it with his knuckles until it joins them underneath the table. Danny puts the buzzing human in front of him and his new human behind him, so that he’s in the middle. There’s layers now. They can’t all get wiped out at once.

Danny makes grabby hands at the other. It makes a huffy sort of vibration. Probably a laugh. Stupid. Doesn’t it notice that they’re in danger??

Danny whips a very sharp comehererightnowbetween them— not lashing, but not gentle. They are in danger. Come here.

Thankfully, the last two obey—Danny’s pretty sure he’s being humored, but that doesn’t matter. Not as long as they’re all under the table. And safe.

The buzzing human’s anxious vibrations slowly move out into a slower, calmer boredom, and that’s fine, because boredom means that it doesn’t think they’re in danger. No one has found them yet and the humans are twitchy and nervous.

One of the darker-dressed humans says something. Danny can’t tell what it says, exactly, but he can turn his head to listen. The words flow around him like water. Someone else murmurs something else.

A human hand bats at Danny’s. Danny flinches. It—is it fighting?? Are they fighting??

They don’t start…hitting. But they keep batting at Danny’s hands, very carefully avoiding his claws, and—oh. They want to play. And they probably want to play quietly, so they’re being smart about not getting caught. Ugh. If Danny had his toys, they wouldn’t be so bored. This is almost worse than boredom.

…Fine. Danny’s claws don’t exactly retract like an animal’s, but they’re not so essential to his being that they’re formed and present all the time. The sharp shapes of his claws shift in the darkness, until they’re only blunt nails: suitable for playing.

All the humans make very excited noises under their breath. It’s all very interesting or something. It can’t be that special. Danny sees other ghosts reshape little bits of themselves all the time.

The quiet human in red gently lifts up Danny’s hands with its own. It gently tosses Danny’s hands in the air, so that they clap together very quietly once they fall down onto its own. Danny lets it happen. They’re this close to him anyway. They’re probably not a threat.

(The real threat is outside, anyway.)

Then his hands get flipped over. The human gently bats its hands against Danny’s, extremely careful not to anger him enough to claw. They do this a couple times before Danny figures the game out.

Oh. It’s a hand game—Danny even knows this one. It’s Ms. Mary Mack. The quiet one whispers the right tune under its breath.

Once Danny knows it, it’s easy to gently follow the motions. He surprises them when he knows the motions as well as they do; his wrists hurt when he goes too fast, or when the human kids do—when they push too hard, Danny makes himself intangible, to their delight—but he can be gentle, and eventually everyone else is gentle, and they carefully plot out Mrs. Mary Mack and a veeeery slow version of Concentration.

It’s all very fun, right up until the Large Green Not-Human pushes itself through the floor.

Danny pulls his hands back, unsheathes his claws, and shrieks.

Everyone yells and everyone gets closer—it’s a defensive formation and that’s good but it’s not enough if he needs space to help defend them—and everything is loud and upsetting and Danny’s already hurt but he can fight and he will—

—Apology, Apology— something whispers, infinitely quieter than the attack Danny had suffered.

He bolts upright. What? Oh, oh no. It wants to talk to him. Danny does not want to talk back. NonononoGoAWAY.

The giant green thing backs off. Danny gets a distinct sensation of —Questions, Answers— sent to him. The feeling is accompanied by a procession of Danny’s own memories: the stars from the base, the container he’d woken up in, his bed nest and all the waste in it.

Danny winces further back under the table. Just because he likes his cot and feels safe in it doesn't mean it isn't gross. It is gross. But everything is going to be gross until all of his insides are actually inside of him again, and not squished up in his more liquid form.

The quickfasthuman darts in front of Danny, as if it is going to be any defense against whatever this creature is, and starts yelling in its little human voice. Danny keens.

—Care, Concern— flows towards him. With it comes Danny’s memories of the buzzing human bandaging him, a flesh-tone bandage stretching across the hole where more of his nose ought to be.

…Danny stills. It’s. That’s.

It’s a very gentle emotion. Maybe the thing is…lying…? But if it was, Danny would be able to feel it. Right?

There are more thoughts and feelings that come by, first very quietly and softly, and then a little too fast to track as the being get ahead of itself. When Danny pulls away, it slows down, and the flow becomes manageable again.

The Earth. Green and peaceful.

Space. —Home. Home—

This base that Danny is on. On it are faces that the green being can see, that Danny can’t— but in its memory it shares, all of them are welcoming and friendly with…their coworker. This being.

(Is this an alien?!)

(The being pauses in its recollection. It feels distinctly —Amused, Amused—. And then Danny gets space memories!! Of Mars!!!)

He carefully eases his claws out of the carpet. Okay. This is pretty cool. Danny’s getting the hang of this.

He (thinks? Successfully?) bounces back a memory of his first room, his first shuttle model of the Atlantis, the glow in the dark stars on his ceiling.

The alien (Alien!!!) treats him to a memory of his own offsprings’ resting places in his home. On Mars.

Danny doesn’t even argue when his buzzing human tries to pick him up. They can break formation. It’s fine. Danny purrs and purrs with his core. For the first time in months and months, someone can speak to him properly. Someone wants to speak to him.

What Danny thinks matters.

The stranger invites Danny into a mutual conversation, and Danny accepts.

Danny sinks himself into a memory of the earth, as seen from the upper atmosphere. The stars were all-encompassing there. He misses flying.

The Martian sends him a memory of a crashed…

…Oh. Danny squeezes further under the table. That’s the Specter Speeder. From the stranger's eyes, his crash into the dirt looks so bad. That’s…that crash hurt him. He’s still hurt. Still so bad.

Even the alien’s —Concern, Fear, Worry— isn’t a comfort.

The Martian replays the memory of the bandaids again. And then a new memory: the laboratory where Danny woke up.

The room was full of nervous humans in scrubs and lab coats, all of whom were nervous, nervous, fussing over problems like safe food and adequate oxygen and sanitary environment and please, please be okay. Danny’s empathy is limited to other empathetic beings, but the humans' thoughts and worried faces are bare and transparently clear to the alien.

…Oh.

Danny thinks of the young humans crowded around him, trying to keep him comfortable and safe, even when the alien knows that the humans know that he isn’t a threat. But that they worry for Danny anyway, because he’s scared and unhappy and in pain.

Oh, Danny thinks. …Oh.

239 notes · View notes

utilitycaster · 8 days

Note

Hi there,

You said in the answer you just gave that, "the Nein mechanically played really well to the casts strength." Could you talk more about that? I'm someone who hasn't actually played D&D before, and everything I've learned has been through osmosis with CR, and your more crunchy posts have been really interesting to read, too.

Hi anon,

Thank you! I can answer but this is definitely pretty subjective in terms of how I see the classes they played and my view of the cast's mechanical strengths so know that you're getting one very specific perspective here. You will notice as a theme that I am not one for indecision.

Anyway: I think Liam and Travis are both notable within the cast for being decisive, in and out of combat, and both played characters with a huge array of options, as arcane utility spellcasters (plus Fjord's melee and, later, paladin abilities) and so having people who can make a quick, confident decision and stick to it with their spellcasting was crucial. Travis also has, as I once put it, court sense, and so having a character with options at basically any range in combat (from melee to eldritch blast range) was extremely good for him. I also just think they like utility casting, which, as my url indicates, I obviously think is awesome; but not all people like it and that's okay! I also just think they like it - both have mentioned on 4SD that Orym and Chetney are much more limited in what they can do.

I think Sam can get really hung up on the optimal and ideal thing to do at times. Really, the best way to put it - and FCG's death is a great example actually - is that Sam is not precious at all with his own characters but is worried about letting other people down. So I think the fact that Veth had a limited but interesting number of choices was actually quite good for him - he could make creative decisions (and even think outside the box, as with fluffernutter) but didn't have an endless list. It also still provided spellcasting, which is important to him.

I think Marisha is one of the strongest players on adding flavor to combat which is purely non-mechanical but is important in actual play if you are playing a character who does mostly the same thing. For what it's worth a lot of the things Beau played to her strengths were on the RP side (give the notetaker a character who has a reason to know a lot of lore) and also, I like monks but they are very straightforward characters to play in battle for the most part so there's not a ton to say, but I think she had a good sense of melee combat and would love to see her play more melee characters; Keyleth was obviously incredibly versatile, but this meant she did spend a lot of time in melee! Marisha also has decent instincts for tanking (Keyleth as regular tank thanks to wildshape and Beau as a dodge tank) so Beau allowed her to exercise that.

Taliesin is also a generally strong player in terms of mechanics and I think, honestly, his strength is that he doesn't seem to have a strong preference on what sort of class he plays and therefore was able to lean into a character who was almost purely support without any resentment over not getting the kill. In general I think Taliesin is very good at just...doing what his character is built to do, which seems damning with faint praise but honestly I think people who get really obsessive about Subverting Their D&D Class are annoying so this is praise and respect.

Laura is an interesting one in that I think she really likes to do Big Damage but she actually is quite skilled at utility casting. Having Caduceus definitely allowed Jester to shine in that she didn't have to serve as dedicated healer, but she also was a strong healer. Laura can be somewhat precious about her characters and I think being a healer is a good antidote for that in that you have the power to heal yourself if you get worried (honestly, this is why I started off as someone who played healers until I allowed myself to accept that dying on graph paper, as Taliesin once said, is fine). Being a prepared caster is also good for someone who, like Laura, can be competitive - it's interesting because she and Sam have a lot of similarities but I think respond in different ways, and Laura having a lot of options and knowing she can change them works well for her approach.

Ashley is also quite strong at flavor descriptors but I also think she likes doing damage, and I think Yasha was very much a "right character at the right time" for her in that barbarians are complicated in the sense of maneuvering, but not in the sense of options - it's a much easier character to jump back into after being away because she is, for the most part, going to be hitting things with a sword. I think she's doing a great job with Fearne too, but wildfire druid is MUCH harder to put down and pick up.

Really, in short, I think the cast members who thrive on having a ton of decisions had them; the cast members who at times have trouble picking what to do had a much more limited list which helped them; and those who don't really have a strong preference had other stylistic elements that were a good fit.

(I also happen to think, as I alluded to especially for Marisha's portrayal of Beau, that the Nein played to the cast's RP strengths as well and/or were given the time and space for the cast to grow into things they were less confident doing, eg: Travis and romance; and I think that does bleed into combat in that it helps you take actions that feel right for the character which in turn helps the other people around you predict what you'll do. It's the drift compatibility.)

#answered #Anonymous #cr tag #more generally the way i mentally categorize the cast and their characters for the campaigns is like #c1: i made this guy for a one shot i guess we're playing to L20 in front of strangers; strong RP & mechanics varied #c2: we are going to very carefully ensure we prove we're not a one trick pony; what do i really want to do now that i know what i'm doing?#c3: what haven't i done yet that intrigues me?#so i do think the nein just hit a particular sweet spot for that reason

51 notes · View notes

mantisgodsdomain · 5 months

Text

Scrolling through OC ask memes is very funny sometimes because a good handful of them have questions that... we don't think apply terribly well.

Yeah, they're a bug, tattoos are a bit complicated. They can't swim because they're an insect. Their ancestry is Cricket and their blood type is green. They don't know what a car is.

#we speak #its extra funny when a significant number of questions are dedicated to dating. your guess is as good as ours we arent keeping track #bau could be dating half the explorers association for all we know #we Have Not kept track #we're looking at a romance and relationships meme right now and its like. we do not think of these things for our ocs 99% of the time #we dont think they would know what monogamy is #we also don't know how to quantify gender in a species that only has One gender (dune cricket)#we are out of the norm but ALSO we swear this is like “youre trans if you identify as a different gender than you were assigned at birth”#like my man. we realize we're out of the norm but we CANNOT give you a solid answer to that question. nothing is binary enough for that #we cant define what sexuality this character would be in human terms we can't even define if a pairing with them is gay or not

76 notes · View notes

rearranging-deck-chairs · 4 months

Text

the doctor isnt neurodivergent or autistic or adhd or nonbinary or genderqueer or asexual. what the doctor is, is Not From Here

#which necessarily of course says something abt their (non)whiteness #(i had all these words in quotation marks first so mentally add those to whiteness too)#but we've them be black for all of 1.5 episode now so #lets see how that develops you know #also i dont think i understand the politics of that part well enough to say much abt it #not that i probably understand the politics of these parts better but #im annoyed enough abt this Thing happening these years. in these 20s i guess. the 'representation' thing #to complain abt it anyway #the dsm isnt real and it isnt gonna fuck you buddy #maybe i'll read some books and then one day i'll write an essay driven by spite and pettiness #i wonder if i can make the thesis statement about the tension between their status of main character #in a 60 year running family adventure show vs this therapy thing we're doing now #like. you cant do that. in terms of like. what story is and does. what a character is and does. it strains #in an interesting way. like im not saying they Shouldnt have done it. im just observing. that you cant do that really. i think #or maybe you can! but i'll find that out #i also dont know shit abt narratology or whatever so. need to read books first. sigh #always have to pause my thoughts to read myself in first its so annoying. esp bc i rarely really do #bc then new thoughts new things to do you cant do EVERYTHING. you can do almost nothing. bane of my existence really #but like you might even be able to say smth interesting here about whether you can call them traumatised at all #remember that article i saw around on tumblr a few years ago i think that was abt like. some scholar in the middle east maybe #saying that ptsd is a western thing bc it necessitates a Post #all of this is western. psychiatry is western. its all stories. how you conceptualise trauma is a story #whos Other is story #where youre from is a story what you stand for is a story who you are is a story #ah. checked the article. dr samah jabr. palestinian. i'll start with her book maybe

61 notes · View notes

thelaurenshippen · 2 years

Text

lucasfilm was so sick for being like "we're going to give you a stone cold killer who is good at every form of combat and put him in impenetrable armor he never takes off, he is going to be so cool" and then casting pedro pascal who has those EYES and giving him a CHILD

#this is a star wars blog now I guess #din djarin #the mandolorian #WE'RE NOT DOING WELL OVER HERE Y'ALL #andor has really sent me into a tailspin!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!#so of course I'm rewatching mando in between andor drops #and once again contemplating the juxtaposition #of efficient killer mando #and casting PEDRO PASCAL #possibly the fluffiest man in the universe #his greatest weapon isnt' the dark saber it's those enormous brown eyes #dave and jon know what they're doing #and it is cruel to me specifically

559 notes · View notes

roomy-ghosted · 9 months

Text

JUST started a good Durge playthrough and I'm dying over my absolute little guy bard Tinfoil.

#bg3 #bg3 tav #baldurs gate 3 #(Im a tag rambler so theres a lot here-) he's got voice six and because of that I'm opting he's incredibly INCREDIBLY young #like- probably 9? Dragonborn reach 10 year old human size at 3 for them so. yeah-#human-body wise he's about 17? but he's still got so little thoughts in his head. Which is canon as well at least #not gonna romance ANYONE as Tinfoil but we're gonna all be besties.#still deciding if he'll slurp tadpoles. he gives into peer preassure very easily and is very easily bossed around.#so it depends at the moment in the cutscene i guess.#he's the group kid. i think shadowheart would mother him a lot and he looks up to Karlach A SHITTON. 'She's so cool...'#'why is the group kid the leader?'#everyone shrugs but they see Tinfoil curl up around a small pile of gold and gems as he sleeps and they can't say no to what he wants to do #Lae'zel thinks he's 'extremely weak skinned. and needs all the help a pathetic youngling like him can get'#she says; helping said pathetic kid up off the nautaloid ship floor after he ran ahead to try and get to the controls; listening to her #like a good lil guy #'Tinfoil; darling; you know we can always get *more* gold if you give up some of these precious little rubies and opals. Your hoard #will look *much* more impressive that way.'#-Astarion; trying to convince a now-teary-eyed tinfoil to give up his hoard so the party can buy health potions #'its not...its not impressive?' he starts crying and Shadowheart has to comfort him #I KNOW he's gonna go murder mode and stuff. but everyone at camp thinks it's just dragonborn instincts kicking in #so they just like chain him to a tree for the night.#its funny i think #'NO! BAD TINFOIL! STOP TRYING TO EAT THE BIRDS!'#'Raughguguhguguh. Tinfoil *NEEDS* sauce...'#he is on a leash constantly because he is enamoured with the beauty of the world and runs off- but also to not kill and maim constantly.

110 notes · View notes

pallanophblargh · 5 months

Text

Oh no, not me, human often frustrated by the willful whims of mammals, looking warmly at the profiles of mostly bully mix type dogs in local shelters.

Don't worry, I'm not that brand of impulsive. I just love their big smiles and I'd never met one I didn't like.

Alternately, I'm missing my childhood dog (who wasn't a bully type) but like all dogs, he was a certified Good Boy.

#April rambles #I'm not immune to canine propaganda #but I can be particular of course #I think people might guess what breed my childhood dog was #anyway I love bully type grins #they have hippo faces #I'm not the usual asshole who feels entitled to dogs I'm always overthinking if I could do right by them #it's a question of a dog fitting into the lifestyle with feasible adjustments #my patience is so much better now that I'm medicated lol #I'm not worried since I know myself and my capabilities #for the time being I'm gonna smile guiltlessly at pictures #fond memories of the time I was drawing in a coffee shop and two amstaff looking dogs bolt over to me #and put their basketball heads in my lap #and the owner is like “I'M SO SORRY they got out of hand”#and I'm like we're good they love my magic scritchies #core memory right there

54 notes · View notes

erikahenningsen · 2 months

Note

🎲 14 for cadina?

14. A kiss to the stomach

Sometimes, Cady likes to take her time.

The reasons are twofold: Regina is beautiful, and most days Cady can't even begin to comprehend how she ended up being the one who gets to keep her.

Secondly, it really annoys Regina, and something about that really works for Cady.

Cady starts with a kiss to Regina's lips, savors the way they fit together perfectly, tastes Regina's lip gloss as she drags her tongue across her lower lip. Regina opens her mouth, granting access, but Cady pulls back, tugging Regina's lip between her teeth gently.

Regina makes a noise of protest, barely audible, but cuts it off with a sharp inhale when Cady moves to her neck. It smells and tastes like Regina's expensive perfume, the one she wears every day regardless of whether she leaves the house. Cady places a feather-light kiss on Regina's pulse point and feels the familiar rhythm of Regina's heartbeat, the one just for her.

Bracketing her knees on either sides of Regina's hips, Cady drags the hand not braced to hold herself above Regina up Regina's bare body, tracing over her ribs, the scar on her side from the bus all those years ago, fighting a smile as Regina squirms a little at the touch.

Cady desperately wants to leave a mark on Regina's neck, to show everyone who sees Regina tomorrow that she belongs to someone, even if they don't know that someone is Cady, but no marks above the collarbone is one of Regina's weird established boundaries—like not touching her face when she's wearing foundation—that Cady begrudgingly accepts.

Instead, Cady settles for tracing her tongue down Regina's neck to just below her collarbone, and bites down. Regina jolts, and this time she does make a noise, one that pulses through Cady's entire body, lightning-quick and burning hot.

"Cady."

Cady lifts her head and meets Regina's eyes. Her face is a mask of impatience, and Cady tries not to show her cards, tries not to reveal on her face how much she craves driving Regina insane.

"What?"

"Get on with it."

Cady frowns, choosing that moment to cover one of Regina's breasts with her hand and squeezes.

"That's not very romantic," Cady says as Regina's back arches off the bed.

Regina's expression sharpens. "I'm not feeling particularly romantic," she gasps out, and Cady knows that is her weird coded way of saying that she is getting desperate without cutting the last strings on who is holding the power in this interaction.

"How sad for you."

Cady draws a broad stroke with her tongue across the purple mark and moves on to her next target. With the tip of her tongue, Cady traces around Regina's nipple, then gently blows over the wet, sensitive spot. She's rewarded with a hand in her hair, Regina's fingers twisted tightly into the locks, as she repeats her ministrations on the other breast.

"Cady," Regina says again, but this time her voice is tense, almost strangled. She shifts her hips restlessly on the bed, and when Cady meets her eyes, the unbridled lust in them makes her involuntarily dig her fingernails into Regina's skin. "I swear to god, if you don't..."

She doesn't finish the sentence.

"I can stop if this isn't working for you," Cady says, with a little smirk.

Regina's fingers tighten in her hair even more. "I hate you," she grits out.

"I love you," Cady replies honestly, and Regina's expression softens almost imperceptibly. She pries Regina's fingers out of her hair and presses the hand flat against the mattress. "Now behave."

The indignant huff Regina lets out almost makes Cady giggle, but the burning rush of need that fills her when Regina obeys her order overpower it and she grinds her hips down against Regina's thigh involuntarily, not even embarrassed by the wetness she surely leaves behind.

Cady pauses at Regina's lower abdomen, pressing tender kisses to the stretch marks there—the ones Regina hates and Cady loves, the ones that remind her that Regina can grow without breaking.

Finally, she places one final kiss on Regina's stomach before sliding back, bringing her mouth to where Regina's legs part. She thinks she hears Regina mutter something that sounds like fucking finally, but she lets it go.

Regina's thigh muscles are taut with tension, but at the first broad stroke of her tongue through Regina's folds, they fall open, inviting Cady in.

Regina makes the strangled sound she always makes when she is trying not to openly moan, a quirk of hers that Cady can't talk her out of, regardless of how many times tells her how hot her noises are, or texts Regina specific fantasies about it while Regina's at work.

Cady slips one finger, then two inside Regina, just as silky soft inside as her skin, curling them expertly, pleasuring Regina second nature to her now—she knows Regina's body better than her own at this point.

Regina gasps, makes a choked noise, and then Cady feels her walls pulse around her fingers, and the power she feels at having this control over Regina, being the one who gets to do this, nearly sends her over the egde on its own.

When Cady finally looks up, she sees that Regina's hands are still obediently gripping the blanket. Something comes over her and before she can stop herself, the words "good girl" slip out.

Regina's eyes widen, something Cady's never seen before passing over her face, before she finally releases the blanket to flip Cady off.

#happy now angie #what are we calling this universe? the grad school universe? that is misleading about the grad school experience #cadina #mean girls #mean girls 2024 #mean girls broadway #regina george #cady heron #i guess this is what we're doing today #ask #anonymous #prompts #grad school universe

48 notes · View notes