Old photos // accepting @peranarkia ((AHHHH I MISSED YOU))

"Oh my god," Diedre's eyes widened in shock. "How the fuck did you find this?" She's already shoving Nina away to grab at Lonnie's phone, much to the shrieked protests of said lover. She's surprised the little anarchist could even tell that the lanky teenager was her at all. Her younger-self's hair was a far closer match to Lonnie's own, and nothing like the meticulously maintained blonde she sported around Gotham. That didn't start on the lack of make-up or styling she'd picked up in her early twenties. It's so strange to see herself like this. Still confident, but with the kind that only comes with having the naivety of being a teenager. You think you're invincible then. Armored up in nothing but a pretty dime-store dress and new boots, ready to take on anything.

"The little red cowgirl boots!" Nina cooed, having easily recovered and planted herself on Dee's shoulder to marvel at the younger version. "And you did braids."

"Shuddup, and yes." Senior dance? Hard to tell. She wore the same dress for a lot of them. Small towns didn't exactly have the world's choice when it came to dressing up, and she couldn't afford most of the online choices. Not until after getting married anyway. Maybe a year or two after this was taken? Looking back at Lonnie, Dee offered back the phone. Normally Lonnie was the blusher- oh how the turn tables.

question time - Accepting! @peranarkia def sent this wdym

"Do you ever consider being a different kind of menace, Lonnie? Like the fun kind instead of the judgmental professor?" Okay, Lonnie wasn't actually that judgmental most of the time. They were a bit weird to Grant though. Which probably meant nothing considering his day-to-day life now.

Accepting || Send my muse [🎶] and a song! They’ll give their opinion on it, and I’ll add on if I think it fits their story or not (and why!) in the tags! @peranarkia

Thad starts the song and by the third line of the lyrics he's lifting one of the ears of the headphone and says, "You would recommend this. How thematically appropriate to you."

Once the song concludes Thad takes his headphones off, looks to Lonnie, back to his headphones, and then back to them, "This is indeed a song. That I didn't know existed until now. With themes that truly hit you square on the head with a baseball bat."

"What did Thorne tower ever do to you?"

Robin crosses his arms while his cape blows with the wind. The whites of his domino mask narrow. The glow of the moon casts a shadow that's taller than the boy's actual frame of 5'3''.

Anarky. Damian tells himself that it's good that they're who he ran into tonight. There's a long overdue chat they need to have.

He glances to the side, looking at the rest of their bombs.

And it was going to be one of those nights. Of course. Never a dull moment here.

Scars // Still Accepting @peranarkia

Infection. The thing about the underground was that it really wasn't the cleanest place. Mixed with 'atonement' and every once in awhile she was wracked with fever and a general miserableness. Lonnie was on perhaps one of the shortest lists in existence when it came to asking for help. If it was in a more convenient place, she'd redress the bandages and put on the ointment herself.

So, that's how she ended up in a racerback tee, tugging the middle strap over- revealing more of the angel wing scarification in progress. Most of its long healed. Faint white, just raised. But a fresher line just left of her spine was far more red, inflamed, and slightly oozy.

It's so quiet as she feels the gentle trace of her upper lines. Up and down, lining the feathers. Silence dripping like adrenaline into her heart. There's some part of her genuinely worried that maybe this air is what people mean about a gentle person's rage. The last thing she wants from this is Lonnie to go on a rampage.

"If you have a good lecture planned, I'd rather not." It's half a joke, and half a plea to fill the space while the open wound amongst the scars gets the medicine and fresh bandage. Once done, Cassie was quick to turn back with a grateful smile, wrapping an arm around their shoulders. A quick cheek kiss is the least of a thank you she can do. If she wasn't so sleepy and miserable, tea would already be going.

@peranarkia //> Open Waves.

"Incoming broadcast to line K03... If any generous 'joys are out there..." A voice whispers through the static across a radio line that they pray reaches zones four and five. "The robotics field in zone 2... I'm hiding... Too many to fight alone. If anyone, anyone, can come and lend help, I'll make a fair trade when we both make it out alive... Please..."

  The dusty crackle almost passes right on by her, sprinting through signals as she is. It's a broad scan. The kind she sets up to combat the empty silence of the open desert, never really stopping on anything in particular but weaving through one frequency to the next, generating a stream of babble. So much idle noise that, funnily enough, what stands out is a quiet whisper.

  Tech sets her book aside to grab for the transmitter, hastily shuffling back to live line. At first it seems empty, some stretch of quiet static. Then it kicks up again. The call brings a tilt to her head the new voice on the end of he line can't see, of course. It's not often than an SOS goes down a locked line — then up come the words robotics field and suddenly it all makes sense. She locks in to transmit back.