“Hobie Did More For Miles After Knowing Him For Ten Minutes Than Gwen Did” My Brother In Christ One

“We should all run away together!” Arthur crows with all the confidence of a drunk man convinced that he has just had an excellent idea.

Merlin and Morgana sit up a little straighter, eyes brightening with the enthusiasm of people who are very drunk and convinced that they have just heard an excellent idea. Gwen, certainly not sober but more so than anyone else in the room, rolls her eyes.

“We could hide in the forest!” Morgana grins.

“Or the mountains.” Merlin smiles.

Gwen tries not roll her eyes again. “Or we could just stay here and wait for Arthur to become king and change the world into one that we like better.” The room boos her good naturedly and Gwen tries to mimic a bow without moving from her place on the bed, curled into Morgana’s side.

“That,” Arthur slurs from where he’s stood in the centre of Morgana’s room, “Is a very boring plan.” He stumbles a little and Merlin takes his hand to try and tug him down to where he’s sat on the floor. Arthur frowns, because he is obviously too stubborn to take the very sound advice of sitting down, but deigns to keep Merlin’s hand clasped in his.

Gwen props herself up a little but not enough to leave the warmth of Morgana’s side. “We could run away to Ealdor?” she tries instead of exhibiting common sense.

The room cheers.

Reset

Take one.

Micah is strong. More magic runs through his veins than any other student his age. He’s a little too human for Shadow Weaver’s tastes but she’s sure that it can be trained out of him. Then she doesn’t train it out of him fast enough.

She pays for that. Dearly.

~

Take two.

Catra is angry. She’s full of desperation and rage and Shadow weaver can understand that completely. She hopes at first that the anger can be turned into drive, into a need it be the best. It works, sort of. Shadow Weaver can see that she needs greatness like Shadow Weaver craves it, but she buries it. Buries it under her need for connection.

It’s pathetic, Shadow Weaver thinks. Pathetic and childish. She writes Catra off as a failure perhaps a little too early.

~

Take three.

Adora is perfect. Start to finish. She’s Shadow Weaver’s magnum opus. But she’s also not quite right. There’s not enough doubt in her for her to belong to Shadow Weaver, and if she doesn’t belong to Shadow Weaver then she can’t control her. And at that point, what is the child worth? Really?

~

Take four.

Glimmer is untrained and messy and has just had far too much responsibility thrust upon her for someone so young. It’s the perfect breeding ground for dependence. Her magic is just like Micah’s and Shadow Weaver is reminded that if she’d just had a little more time with the boy then he could have been exactly what she wanted. She’ll have that time with Glimmer, she thinks.

She’s wrong.

~

Take five.

There is no take five.

It’s probably a good thing.

Crew Swap AU

Commander Lovelace is having one of those few good days on the Hephaestus when Hera tells her that something’s docked at the airlock five

The crew scrambles, something they’ve been getting better at recently.

Those with firearms training head to the armory while Victoire and Kwan and Selberg go to the airlock where Lovelace knows they’ll be doing whatever they can to figure out what’s happening. In under three minutes the entire crew of the Hephaestus is gathered outside airlock five, mostly armed and entirely ready for a fight.

Hera can’t communicate with whatever’s on the craft but she can tell that there’s only one life form on board. Lovelace’s choice is either to let what just docked into the station, or to leave it hanging onto them like a leach on their oxygen.

Throughout her time on the Hephaestus Lovelace has grown to hate unknowns. They always lead to someone dying. It means that they have to deal with whatever’s clinging to them before they’re in the middle of the next emergency. Lovelace tells Hera to open the airlock.

Instead of aliens or monsters, what comes through the airlock is a man. He looks exhausted. His cheeks are sunken in and one arm is wrapped around his waist in an attempt to hold together what he can. His other hand holds a gun, shaking.

For a moment he looks confused, like he’s expecting people other than Lovelace’s crew to be there. Then his eyes lock onto Selberg and his expression turns murderous.

“You.” he rasps.

Lovelace lets herself look away from the stranger and at Selberg for a millisecond, it’s all she needs. Selberg looks scared. He looks terrified. The man that Lovelace can barely get to listen to her is stood, staring in abject horror at a man who’s barely holding himself upright.

“No.” Selberg whispers, eyes wide. “No, you died. I watched you die.”

“Really Doc?” says the man through gritted teeth, “I thought the whole point was that I wouldn’t be able to do that any more.”

And then his eyes start to glow.

Well, Lovelace thinks, cocking her gun as Selberg drops in a dead faint, maybe it is an alien.

“I would like to suggest a temporary truce.”

Luz has no idea how Hunter got in.

From the looks of bewilderment on Eda and Kings faces Luz is pretty sure that they’re in the same boat. The same very confused, very concerned boat that’s being tossed by the whims of the boiling sea.

Luz turns back to Hunter who’s looking at the three of them expectantly, waiting on a response.

“Hootyyyyyy,” Eda calls into the house. Hunter keeps just standing there and Luz pinches herself to make sure she isn’t dreaming.

Then there’s an owl coming out of the floor. At least some things are normal.

“Hello!”

“How is he here?” Eda demands, “Why is he here?”

“To offer a truce? It’s a very good truce, and I said that I would recommend it, and what better way to recommend it than letting him tell you all about it himself!” Hooty pauses to check if anyone’s nodding in agreement of his clearly very sound decision making process. He’s met by a stony silence and expressions of particularly strong disapproval.

For once he seems to read the room.

“Okay, you guys have lots to talk about, bye!” His face shoves itself through the floorboards back the way it came and a hole is left in the floor between Eda, King and Luz and Hunter. Luz imagines the hole widening into a chasm, it feels more appropriate.

“As I said,” Hunter continues slowly, “I’m here to propose a truce.”

Eda scoffs. King growls. Luz glares.

“And what common ground could we possibly find to build a truce over?” Eda asks icily.

Hunter takes a breath. “I was hoping we might work together to kill Kikimora.”

Huh.

“Okay then,” Eda starts, voice full in equal measure of interest and surprise. “I’m listening.”

I’ve been a fan of wolf 359 for YEARS and you have the AUDACITY to tell me that they put out Eiffels version of the lords prayer and NO ONE TOLD ME?!!!?!

The link

there's an elite type of character and it can be described as 'this person is powerful and competent in their area of expertise' meets 'too bad they're an idiot'

the divine exists to be first sexualised and secondly cannibalised

[DC] REPOST bc I did not like how it desaturated the colors of the last one….😭😭😭 anyways wonder girl is wlw

To be Batman is a job that should have been impossible. A job that should have required more than what any one man is able to give. Somehow Bruce had managed to do that and keep the company running well enough to use it to fund practically every programme helping keep Gotham safe.

Dick thinks Bruce was about three people. The vigilante, the businessman and the father.

When Bruce dies Dick and Tim are forced to divvy up his responsibilities. Who else is going to do it? Cass is in Hong Kong and Jason hates Bruce far too fully to contemplate becoming any aspect of him. Steph and Barbara are staying in the business but they never really belonged to Bruce. Not like Dick and Tim did.

Damian is a whole separate issue.

So that leaves Dick and Tim to slice Bruce into pieces small enough for the two of them to swallow. Dick takes on the mantle of Batman. Obviously. It’s the heaviest burden to bear and Dick’s the oldest. He’s been doing this the longest. Tim takes on the mantle of the businessman. He’s always been the smartest. Dick knows that he’ll be the best fit for tricking a boardroom full of sharks into pretending they're something benevolent.

After they finish tearing off fistfuls of their father's legacy, Tim looks at Dick with something exhausted in his eyes. Something that makes him look like he's given up. “I can’t be your Robin, can I?” he asks.

Dick knows that Tim must already know the answer. Dick also knows that his little brother deserves the closure of hearing it out loud.

“No” Dick confirms, refusing to look at Tim. The air of the room, already saturated with grief, grows heavier with a new type of loss. “You’re my little brother." Dick says haltingly. "I couldn’t be him, not for you.” He hopes that Tim can understand what he means, even though he knows the words aren’t quite right.

Tim nods and Dick feels the bittersweet lifting of some of the burden from his shoulders. Neither of them talk about how to split the final third of Bruce's responsibilities, the ones he'd taken on as a father. That's a legacy the two of them let slip into a grave unspoken.

In fairness, that particular role of Bruce’s wasn’t essential to fill. It’s not like he’d even been that good at it.

~

Dick doesn’t think any more on it for a while, not until the first time he sees Damian wearing the Robin costume and looking so much more nervous than Dick had expected.

“Are you okay?” he asks, fighting the urge to shift under the weight of the suit. It doesn’t fit quite right yet but he’s sure it will suit him better with time.

Damian's eyes narrow. “Yes.” he responds far too quickly.

Dick hesitates for a moment, trying to remember what he wanted to hear when he filled the same role as the boy stood in front of him. He tries to remember what Bruce had said, wearing the same suit Dick does now, and looked at a nine year old kid ready to twist his childhood into a crusade.

“You don’t have to be flawless." Dick starts, thinking of how imperfection is a luxury Damian has been unable to afford in the past. "You can make mistakes and you can do things wrong and I promise that it won’t change anything.” He leans down so that he’s on Damian's level, praying that he used to be similar enough to the boy in front of him for these to be the right things to say. “I’ll be right here to fix things if anything happens.”

Damian huffs. “As if I would ever display such amateur behaviour.” But Dick thinks he might look slightly less tense than he did a moment ago.

Dick isn’t meant to have to act as a father. That wasn’t the deal. He’s meant to become Batman, to handle this part of Bruce so that the world can keep on spinning. He wasn’t meant to have to become Bruce. He wasn’t meant to have to give more than what he has.

But Dick has always been good at taking on a little more than he should be able to handle. So he touches Damian’s shoulder and uses all his best words and hopes that maybe this will be enough.

^^^ the good shit

Once back on Earth, Doug starts his radio shows with “Hello, humans,” or maybe “Hello, humanity,” but he can’t bring himself to address the audience as “Dear Listeners,” anymore