- BAAL AND NARINDER -
• milksakex •
It was a windy night. The dark sky stretched on in an endless black. Its silver and gold stars flickered in and out, signaling the end of their short life. A tall black cat sat, perched on the top of a church, looking down at the cult. He had red camellia flowers on both sides of his head and a white cloak with a black heart pendant on the side of his neck.
Underneath was a black shawl with beads at the end. He had a long tail that faded into red and his paws were the same. On top of his head was the skull of some ancient creature, not much bigger than him. The cat had piercing red eyes with black slits that caught every moving thing. This cat was named Baal.
Baal scanned the cult, with watchful eyes, taking in the beauty. There were plenty of houses lining the right side of the cult with a large garden and barn in the back. On the left side was a medical area with red camellias growing all around it. Beside the garden were six boxes, two bigger than the others were holding seeds, and the other four held manure.
There was a giant ivory-colored path going four ways in an X shape with a circle in the middle. It was made of bricks are sparkled in the night. In that circle stood a giant statue of a ram. It was decorated with gold blocks, wind chimes, bells, flowers, and paper slips containing prayers. Around the statue were four smaller statues mimicking the bigger one. In between, there were cushions for all to sit on. And there were a lot.
At the end of each path though, lay one small pedestal each with different colored crowns on them. these were also decorated. The first, closest to the entrance of the cult was purple and dressed in spider silk, the next was beside the church and was yellow. Mushrooms were growing from that one. The next one beside the houses and garden was blue and had fish carings on it, and the last one next to the medical area was green, dawned in vines and flowers.
The trees around the cult were also decorated, in a similar fashion to the ram statue. Baal sighed, grabbing the skull on his head before his eyes snapped onto a shadow. His eyes perked at the familiar noise of someone creeping about. His eyes squinted at the cult much more closely.
Everyone was supposed to be inside their houses, fast asleep. He had checked the bushes, roofs, and inside the church. Plus the lamb was out... Apparently, Baal was wrong. With a burst, a short, dark gray, clumsy-looking, no-tailed cat, jumped out of a bush. It was busy trying to catch spiders around the cult. It wore the usual clothing but with more flair. A tight red shirt with white markings, fitted red shorts, and a white jacket with a red stripe in the middle on both the back and front.
It had shackles on his arms and neck that were decorated with gold lines, dots, and colors of red flowers. Taking a closer look, Baal could see colored eyes on the shackles as well. They were purple, yellow, green, and blue. Ironic. The cat had two big red eyes with a hole in its forehead.
It would trip over pieces of stone, his feet, and even air, leading it to land roughly on his face. Baal couldn't help but choke down a chuckle at its pitiful attempt at hunting. He may have not gotten much training at a young age, but even he could’ve done better than that. The cat got up and dusted off its clothes, before picking up the net it was using. It scanned the patchy land before spotting the spider again. This time it was cleaning its mandibles nearby, completely unaware.
The cat trotted over quietly and hid in the nearby grass. Unfortunately, like an untrained kitten, it moved too quickly and stepped on a twig. The spider quickly turned around, noticing the cat. For a second, it was quiet before all hell broke loose. The spider scurried over the cult with the cat in tow. It dodged and weaved the swinging net, before sliding over to a manure box and running between the cat's legs. The cat, however as ungraceful as it is, stumbled and fell into it.
“FUCK!” It shouted before landing and digging its face out of the box. There was a large lump of brown on its head and face that slipped off and landed on the ground. It held its arms in an arched position and slowly turned around, wiping the poop out of its eyes and mouth.
To think this was the man that taught him how to better coordinate his feet when fighting, made Baal shout in laughter. His quick chuckles broke the night's silence. Quickly, he covered his mouth but that did little to muffle his laughter. When Baal finished, he noticed the smaller cat glaring up at him. Its red eyes burning.
Baal hopped down and walked over to the cat, catching the stench of the manure covering its face. Some of it was already dried on. Baal wrinkled his nose as much as he could. “You seem to be having a lot of trouble, Narinder.” Baal couldn't help but hiss out the name with disgust. After all, he was his- No. No. Not anymore. He doesn't have to call him that anymore. Narinder scoffed, glaring harder at the taller one. “Watch it, child.” It hissed back. Its ears were pointed back and its fur was lifted. “You know nothing of the pain, I deal with.” Baal smirked. “I do, you put me through it after all. Plus, I just wondering if you needed help. Maybe I could help you hunt. Properly.” At the last sentence, Baal smiled, keeping a playful demeanor.
Narinder grumbled a bit and hissed, before going silent. His fur looked like it wanted to get away from him with how high it was. “No. I don’t need your help. You betrayed me. Both of you. I don’t need help from a traitor.” Baal glared back at his old master, mulling over his words carefully, all with a smile. He knew they his m- Narinder looked like he was ready to pounce, but Baal couldn't help but chuckle at the thought. He wondered how light Narinder was now.
Flicking his eyes back to the smaller, Baal took a deep breath, slightly bowed his head, and patted down his fur. “My apologies. I’d rather not bother a wondrous god like you with my presence in catching spiders. You very clearly have it under control.” He looked down at the smaller cat with a smug look in his eye. Just as it was about to screech his ear off, Baal- with a swift flick of his wrist, teleported away.
• End •
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hey btw if you're in the USA at 2:20 p.m. ET on Wednesday, Oct. 4, they're testing the emergency broadcast system. your phone is probably going to make a really loud noise, even if it's on silent. there's a backup date on the 11th if they need to postpone it.
if you're not in a safe situation and have an extra phone, you should turn that phone completely off beforehand.
additionally, if you're like me, and are easily startled; i recommend treating it like a party. have a countdown or something. be surrounded by your loved ones. take the actions you personally need to take to make yourself safe.
i have already seen mockery towards any person who feels nervous about this. for the record, it completely, completely valid to have "emergency broadcast sounds" be an anxiety trigger. do not let other people make fun of you for that. emergency sounds are legitimately engineered to make us take action; those of us with high levels of anxiety and/or neurodivergence are already pre-disposed to have a Bad Time. sometimes it is best to acknowledge that the situation will be triggering for some, and to prepare for that; rather than just saying "well that's stupid, it's just a test."
"loud scary sound time" isn't like, my favorite thing, but we can at least try to prevent some additional anxiety by preparing for it. maybe get yourself a cake? noise cancelling headphones? the new hozier album? whatever helps. love u, hope you're okay. we are gonna ride it out together.
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I am loudly pushing the batdad agenda i am loudly pushing the— DPxDC Prompt
“Woah. You look like shit."
Granted, that’s probably not the first thing Danny should be saying to the guy that just bit the curb, but in his defense; he’s not running on 100% right now either.
The man -- tall, towering, and broader than Danny is tall -- whips around on his heel, black frayed cape flaring out impressively. Danny would've whistled in appreciation, but he takes the time instead to wipe the back of his hand across his mouth, smearing the blood running from his nose across his cheek.
"Sorry." He blinks widely, not even flinching as the man with the horns zeroes in on him. "That was rude of me. I have a really bad brain-to-mouth filter; Sam says its what always gets me into trouble."
And she's not wrong either, per say. His smart mouth is what landed him in this situation -- with blood blossom extract running through his veins and cannibalizing the ectoplasm in his bloodstream. Thanks Vlad.
The man grunts at him; a short, curt "hm" that shouldn't make Danny smile, but he does because he's somewhat delirious and probably concussed. The man keeps some kind of distance, sinking towards the shadows of Gotham's alleyway like he dares to melt right into it.
If it's supposed to scare Danny, it doesn't work. Danny's never been afraid of the dark; he's always been able to hide himself in it. He blinks slowly at the mass of shadows.
"You look hurt." The shadows says, blurring together around the edges. Danny squints, and licks his lips to get the blood dripping down his chin off. Ugh, he hates the taste of blood.
"I am." He says, "My godfather poisoned me. M'dying." The agony of the blood blossom eating him from the inside out looped back around to numbing a while ago, so all he feels is half-awake and dazed.
"Hey," Danny stumbles forward towards the man, a bloodied hand reaching out to him. "You-- you're a hero, right? You're not attacking me; which is more than I can say for most costumed people I've met." Maybe it's a poor bar to judge someone at, but he's already established that Danny's not in his right mind.
The man makes no change in expression, but Danny realizes blearily that it's hard to tell with the shadows on his face. He stays still long enough for Danny to latch onto the cape -- stretchy, but almost soft under his fingers.
He looks up blearily into the whites of the man's eyes. "Can you help me? I don't-- I don't wanna die." Again. He doesn't wanna die again. He blinks slow and lizard-like. "I mean- I'll probably get to see mom and dad again, but I told them I'd at least try and make it to adulthood."
There's a clatter down the street, and Danny's ghost sense chills up his spine and leaves a bitter, ashy taste in his mouth. He immediately knows who it belongs to even before the deceptively gentle; "Daniel?" echoes down the way.
"Daniel? Quit your games, badger, Gotham is dangerous for children."
Danny's mouth pulls back, and blood spills against his tongue. "Please." He rasps, and grabs onto the shadow's cape with both hands. "Please. He's going to kill me. Please--"
"Daniel? Is that you?"
His lips part, dragging in air to plead with the darkness again. He doesn't need to, the whites of his eyes narrow, and the cape whirls around him before Danny can blink. Soon swaddled in shadows, the Night lifts him up, and steals him away.
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"Are you going to break my heart?"
Eddie almost drives them off the road.
It's late, nearly 2 am, and the country road is narrow and winding, and this thing between them, fingers twinned above the gear shift, radio turned down low, Stevie Nicks singing to them softly, is new. Eddie wants to live in this moment forever, wants the smell of lake water and dying August heat to live in their clothes, wants the warmth of first kisses and whispered confessions to last in tingling sparks in their skin, the memory of touch to be permanent. It won't be, it'll all fade, but Eddie can visit it again, rewrite them into the cotton and the softness of Steve's mouth.
It's late, and this is new.
"It's okay if you do," Steve says, so quiet. He's holding on to Eddie's hand like he's dangling off a cliff. "I can handle it. I'd just like a heads up, so I can prepare."
Eddie almost feels guilty, basking in his joy when Steve was sinking into something else. He thinks, if he were a kid still, if he hadn't died, hadn't lost everything and managed to get it all back, he'd be angry. But he's not. He's not, and he did, and it's late and this is new—but it's not unfamiliar. The same, but more, an extra free scoop with whipped cream and sprinkles, a cherry on top.
"You trust me?" Eddie asks. He rubs his thumb along Steve's knuckles, feels the scars under his skin, little tears in someone so perfect.
"Of course," Steve croaks. Eddie can't look at him, because the road is dark and narrow and winding, and he has to get his boy home safe.
"And I trust you," Eddie says, brings Steve's hand up, presses a kiss like a seal to his skin. "And I love you, and you love me. I got you."
Steve's quiet for a long, long moment. Eddie can tell he's watching him, so he presses another kiss to Steve's hand, lets his lips linger on hard tendons and dark veins. Kisses in his promises to the place they're linked together.
When he speaks again, it's soft, and Eddie can hear the love, living and leaving in the air between Steve's teeth.
"Okay," he says, giving Eddie everything. "You got me."
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the thing is there's like, a point of oversaturation for everything, and it's why so many things get dropped after a few minutes. and we act like millennials or gen z kids "have short attention spans" but... that's not quite it. it's more like - we did like it. you just ruined it.
capitalism sees product A having moderate success, and then everything has to come out with their "own version" of product A (which is often exactly the same). and they dump extreme amounts of money and environmental waste into each horrible simulacrum they trot out each season.
now it's not just tiktokkers making videos; it's that instagram and even fucking tumblr both think you want live feeds and video-first programming. and it helps them, because videos are easier to sneak native ads into. the books coming out all have to have 78 buzzwords in them for SEO, or otherwise they don't get published. they are making a live-action remake of moana. i haven't googled it, but there's probably another marvel or starwars something coming out, no matter when you're reading this post.
and we are like "hi, this clone of project A completely misses the point of the original. it is soulless and colorless and miserable." and the company nods and says "yes totally. here is a different clone, but special." and we look at clone 2 and we say "nope, this one is still flat and bad, y'all" and they're like "no, totally, we hear you," and then they make another clone but this time it's, like, a joyless prequel. and by the time they've successfully rolled out "clone 89", the market is incredibly oversaturated, and the consumer is blamed because the company isn't turning a profit.
and like - take even something digital like the tumblr "live streaming" function i just mentioned. that has to take up server space and some amount of carbon footprint; just so this brokenass blue hellsite can roll out a feature that literally none of its userbase actually wants. the thing that's the kicker here: even something that doesn't have a physical production plant still impacts the environment.
and it all just feels like it's rolling out of control because like, you watch companies pour hundreds of thousands of dollars into a remake of a remake of something nobody wants anymore and you're like, not able to afford eggs anymore. and you tell the company that really what you want is a good story about survival and they say "okay so you mean a YA white protagonist has some kind of 'spicy' love triangle" and you're like - hey man i think you're misunderstanding the point of storytelling but they've already printed 76 versions of "city of blood and magic" and "queen of diamond rule" and spent literally millions of dollars on the movie "Candy Crush Killer: Coming to Eat You".
it's like being stuck in a room with a clown that keeps telling the same joke over and over but it's worse every time. and that would be fine but he keeps fucking charging you 6.99. and you keep being like "no, i know it made me laugh the first time, but that's because it was different and new" and the clown is just aggressively sitting there saying "well! plenty of people like my jokes! the reason you're bored of this is because maybe there's something wrong with you!"
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