I didn't mean to.

But it's not really real, is it? Just made up and pretend like my family and my life and everything else.

[babydxhl]

"But it's not really real, is it?"

independent mary dahl / baby doll from btas. penned by bri (they/them). est. 2013.

CARRD. PROMPTS. AESTHETIC. EDITS.

[babydxhl]

05. walks into the room with red-rimmed eyes and no words. @clawsextended 24/7 fucked up.

non-verbal prompts | still accepting.

This is not a hospital, but it is as close to one as any of them ever gets if they can help it. Mary sets a finger between the pages of her book and looks over at the sleeping little face on the bed, brushes a stray snarl of hair off the still-feverish forehead with a fingertip. Murmurs a quiet apology for her reluctance to get help earlier, for insisting it'll-be-fine, she-will-be-fine, because the alternative — unthinkable — had not been an option.

But then the cough had not gotten better overnight, as they'd hoped. Holly's eyes had been open but glazed, her cheeks flushed, breathing ragged.

In the end it had been Mary who had made the calls, and Mary who had done what she did best and turned mean on the skittish med students working the back-alley clinic in the middle of a lonely Tuesday night. This had been someone's home, once; the interior still bears the loving touch of deep wood panelling and forest green wallpaper, despite the hospital equipment and chemical smell now invading it.

Maybe that had made it a little easier, to see Selina with the blanket-wrapped bundle of a child in a room not so cold and burdened as a state hospital room. As if it was all a little less serious.

After a day spent shifting between dozing in the chair on one side of the bed, sitting up biting her fingernails, and pacing the halls, Mary feels the evening creeping on with a dull ache in her bones. She sets the book aside and sits up in her seat, swiping a hand down her face. When the door clicks open and Selina enters, she blinks once, frowns.

"They said she's gonna be fine," she says, softly, even though she thinks Batman himself could have slammed through the window and not managed to wake Holly. Mary regrets telling Selina to take a walk — who needed the extra time to think about what might’ve been? "The flu. It's nothing." She tips her head to better catch the other woman's eye. "Nothing, got it?"

[babydxhl]

06. stays silently by the others side in support without saying a word. @clawsextended

non-verbal prompts | still accepting.

A part of Mary is dully unsurprised to find Selina still in her apartment, even as the morning sun edges even higher into the sky and stretches in thin squares along the floor. Coffee, cut fruit, toast, spread out on the kitchen island, and for a moment Mary — slinking to a stool in bandaged feet and clean pyjamas — cannot understand why Miriam keeps her back tactfully turned, head down, washing dishes, and then spies the little dish by her coffee mug. A small mountain of pills.

The night before, in that roadside phonebooth, Mary had clung to the scrap of paper like her life depended on it. Loxapine. Risperidone. Escitalopram. The list went on. Scribbled names and numbers of the particular cocktail keeping Mary Dahl standing, jotted hastily down before she'd crawled through an air vent, sprinted the length of the manicured asylum lawn and gone up, up, up, over the barbed wire and down the other side. Never stopping, feeling her breath scrape in her throat.

They bury the wire six feet deep along the fence line now. No digging out — only a desperate climb. Mary takes her seat and doesn't look at the thin slices criss-crossing her palms.

She had made it three hours in the dark in canvas shoes and Arkham-issue jumpsuit; her teeth had chattered, and every flash of headlights had sent her skidding further back into the treeline, heart pounding. Finally — 2AM? later? — there had been the phone booth, and she had crawled inside bleeding and filthy, calling first Miriam, to read out that nasty and precarious little grocery list, then Selina.

Come get me. Please. I'm so scared.

That last part had been more a sob than words — the cracking of a composure she had been clinging to for the long weeks locked away.

Now, hours later, Mary doesn't look at Selina as she downs the lot, one pill after another, then reaches for her coffee mug; she senses the other woman beside her, and can't help the shame that prickles at the back of her neck despite years of reassurances. Shame from being vulnerable last night, letting herself be lifted limp and exhausted into the car, mumbling I-just-want-to-go-home like some lost lamb as she stared down the glowing lights on the dashboard. And now this — the reminder that she is crazy, and always will be.

"Thought you would have gone home," she says, when the dish is empty and coffee set back down. Her voice is hoarse. She opens her mouth to speak again, and then pauses, presses her lips together hard. Feels something very small and very tired and very shattered rear up in the center of her chest. She rests her elbows on the counter and her face in her palms, shoulders shaking. The lemon-clean scent of Arkham is still lurking in the curve of her cuticles.

[astrronomemes]

ORPHAN: STARTERS

a collection of quotes, phrases, and sayings from the 2009 film, Orphan. change & alter as needed.

"Your dreams can be a manifestation of your emotions. It's your body and mind's way of dealing with the stress and grief of what happened."

"You came up with that story?"

"If you're so bored, why aren't you down at the party?"

"There's nothing wrong with being different."

"I think people should always try to take the bad things that happen to them, and turn them into something good, don't you?"

"That is an AA term, and I didn't go to AA. I just stopped drinking."

"I thought you said there wasn't anything wrong with being different."

"Oh, look! Little Bo Peep texted me! She wants her outfit back."

"You know I'm here for you, right? You know that, right?"

"You are such a freak."

"Is there anything special you want me to make tonight? Do you have any favorites?"

"So, then, you were just pretending this whole time?"

"You know how sorry I am. I just feel like I've earned a little trust here."

"Let me get this straight. We can talk about my mistakes, but not yours?"

"I had to kill her, because she was going to tell on me. You're not going to tell on me, are you?"

"I'm not a psychiatrist, but a lot of what she said made sense."

"Why does everyone get the benefit of the doubt from you except for me?"

"But has she ever made you feel, I don't know, uncomfortable? Or done anything she's not supposed to do? Like, has she ever hurt any of you?"

"It must be hard to love an adopted child as much as your own."

"Oh, my god, we need to take you to the hospital."

"We want to help you, but there's nothing we can do until you stop lying to yourself."

"You have to believe me. [Name], you have to trust me on this."

"What are you going to do? Hit me?"

"It's always better to burn the evidence."

"Don't worry. You're going to heaven."

"I know you're exhausted and upset, and so am I. But there has to be some other explanation."

"I'm so done. I'm done connecting these dots for you."

"You know, you can think whatever you want. I will leave tonight. If that's what you want, I'll leave tonight."

"Look at you! What have you done to your face? What is this?"

"I don't love you like that. That's the way [name] and I love each other. Do you understand?"

"Stop talking to me like I'm a child!"

"I'm calling [name] tomorrow. We're gonna have a conversation about your future in this house."

"I'm not your fucking mommy!"

[bxbbysoxer]

DOROTHY DELL and SHIRLEY TEMPLE in LITTLE MISS MARKER (1934)

[babydxhl]

"But it's not really real, is it?"

independent mary dahl / baby doll from btas. penned by bri (they/them). est. 2013.

CARRD. PROMPTS. AESTHETIC. EDITS.

[hollowprompts]

` * 𝐧𝐨𝐧-𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐛𝐚𝐥 𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬 : 𝘴𝘦𝘯𝘥 𝘢 𝘱𝘳𝘰𝘮𝘱𝘵 𝘧𝘳𝘰𝘮 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘭𝘪𝘴𝘵 𝘣𝘦𝘭𝘰𝘸 𝘵𝘰 𝘴𝘦𝘦 𝘩𝘰𝘸 𝘮𝘺 𝘮𝘶𝘴𝘦 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘤𝘵𝘴. 𝘯𝘰 𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘥𝘴 𝘯𝘦𝘦𝘥𝘦𝘥, 𝘫𝘶𝘴𝘵 𝘵𝘰𝘶𝘤𝘩. 𝘴𝘦𝘯𝘥 (+ 𝘳𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘴𝘦) 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘮𝘺 𝘮𝘶𝘴𝘦 𝘵𝘰 𝘥𝘰 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘤𝘩𝘰𝘴𝘦𝘯 𝘢𝘤𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯 𝘵𝘰𝘸𝘢𝘳𝘥𝘴 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘮𝘶𝘴𝘦.

𝐠𝐮𝐢𝐥𝐭 -

01. avoids eye contact or looking at the floor. 02. wringing hands together in silence. 03. fidgeting with the hem of their shirt, unable to stay still. 04. looking at receiver in long silence before looking away. 05. silently leaves a folded note on the table in front of the other. 06. touches the others arm but pulls back out of guilt.

𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐫 -

01. slams fist onto a table without saying a word. 02. exhaling sharply through their nose and clenching their jaw. 03. throws an object across the room. 04. crossing their arms tightly, digging fingers into their own skin. 05. pacing the room with heavy steps. 06. glares at the other with a clenched fist.

𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞 -

01. gently pushing stray hair behind the others ear. 02. resting their forehead against the others. 03. cups the others face with both hands. 04. pressing a kiss to the others forehead in silence. 05. lingering touches against the others face. 06. wraps their arms around the other from behind and rests their head on the others shoulder.

𝐬𝐚𝐝𝐧𝐞𝐬𝐬 -

01. wiping their eyes before someone can notice. 02. pressing their face into a pillow to muffle sobs. 03. pulls the other into a desperate hug and wont let go. 04. silently reaching for the others hand, needing comfort. 05. walks into the room with red-rimmed eyes and no words.

𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐢𝐧𝐞𝐬𝐬 -

01. spins the other around without warning in a hug. 02. links arms with the other and tugs them along happily. 03. provides the other with a handmade gift. 04. tackles the other in a sudden and joyful hug. 05. kisses the others cheek unexpectedly and grins.

𝐟𝐞𝐚𝐫 -

01. backing away slowly and looking for exits. 02. hiding behind the other and peeking around. 03. flinches at sudden movement from the other. 04. presses their back against the wall with eyes darting around the room. 05. jumps at a noise and instinctively grabs the others hand.

𝐜𝐚𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠

01. tucks a blanket gently around the other person's shoulders. 02. applies a bandage with slow and deliberate care. 03. brings them food and water and watches to ensure they eat. 04. runs fingers through their hair in efforts to soothe. 05. rubs soothing circles on the others back while they cry. 06. stays silently by the others side in support without saying a word.

𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐠

01. raises a hand but hesitates. 02. grips the others arm a bit too tightly. 03. pushes the other away with more force than necessary. 04. turns their back on the other to begin walking away without a word. 05. rips a shared photo in half without a word. 06. steps in closely with cold and narrowed eyes.

[babydxhl]

starter call ❤️

[brokenbladesandfaces]

She's seen a few reports and court statements to know most people claimed not to remember the moment they killed. Forgotten, somehow, the instant they decided to take someone else's life.

Miriel was not one of them. Or, she hadn't needed to lie about it yet.

A rapid tap-tap-tap of child-sized shoes almost drowned out by the splash of loafers in small puddles left by the rain. The heavy stench of alcohol hitting her even before she saw his face — a leering, bloated mask with one hand raised as if trying to grasp whoever it was they were pursuing. Her own hand already sought out her scalpel by instinct, flipping it so the blade faced out with the tip aimed just above her head. Precisely where the sharp edge could bite into his throat and tear it open with his own clumsy forward momentum, skin opening before steel like wrapping paper split open on Christmas Day.

Regret set in a few seconds later. Regret that it had been over so soon, that the amount of blood spattered across the wall and mixing with the rainwater in the gutters meant there wouldn't be much of a man to sink her teeth into in a matter of minutes. Even then she crouches, eyes wide with hunger or glee the surgeon could not say, hauling him up in a futile attempt to catch the last shuddering gasps of a man choking on his own blood.

Mary doesn't really register until she speaks up.

"You're welcome." She swallows, her throat dry despite the prickling of the drizzle against her hair, against the back of her hand as she slowly releases the deathgrip on the body. "You shouldn't —" No. Sounded wrong in a way Miriel could not have verbalised why.

"It's dangerous this late at night," she tries again, standing slowly and tucking away her blade. "Especially by yourself. Where's Miriam?"

[babydxhl]

Mary doesn't answer right away. She recognises the implication, the part that goes unsaid: that it is not dangerous for everybody, that some people are allowed to to walk around alone, and that she is not one of them. She looks around, and after a beat snags her purse from where it had fallen and then skittered away from her across the concrete.

"I left her inside," she says finally, clicking open the purse to confirm that yes, her gun is still in there, and that yes, it hadn't saved her. Her face creases a little — it's the look of an amputee remembering a lost limb, that slight tilt as if to look over her shoulder for a woman who is not there. "I thought—"

Thought it'd be fine. Thought it wouldn't be matter. It'd be a few minutes.

"He's dead?" It's only barely a question. In a sudden spark of fury Mary lashes out and kicks the body — the toe of her shoe catches his temple with a dull thud. Then she stumbles back, exhaling a shuddering breath. "God-fucking-damnit."

[babydxhl]

@mad-hunts | starter call.

Mary does not go to Barton for help if she can help it. She has other back-alley butchers, medical students looking to make a lot of money. The few times she has been in here — the ghost of the memory lurking over her shoulder like something ugly and threatening — she was out of her mind. With pain, with withdrawal, with whatever is gone wrong beneath the eggshell white of her skull.

She remembers, vaguely, screaming in this room, hard enough to tear her vocal cords. Shrieking why-couldn't-you-just-let-me-die as if it was the most violent accusation she could possibly think of.

But Mary doesn't scream now. She stands tucked into the far corner of the room, exhaling cigarette smoke through the cracked window. Something in her face as Barton enters (the good doctor, ha!) dares him to tell her to put it out; her hand shakes, just a little, but enough. Her eyes are locked on the redheaded woman lying unconscious on the bed.

Miriam — the woman who organises each and every mundane part of Mary's entire life, who buys her groceries and sets out her pills in the morning and keeps Miss Mary Dahl from downing all of them in one go and disappearing into whatever lies in the here-after — had taken a bullet through the small of the back in the middle of the night, after a deal gone wrong. Someone trigger happy and angry. She'd gone down hard, and in those few seconds Mary had felt the world go strangely silent.

A series of shutter clicks. Click. The back of the town car, slick with blood and reeking of copper. Click. Other henchmen lifting Miriam, limp, out and away and into the light beyond the car door. Click. Hands on Mary, holding her still, and Mary screaming, screaming, screaming, and only when she had wondered what that awful, mourning sound was, had she realised that the volume had returned to her ears.

"You ever think—" She cuts herself off, scrubs once at her face, the lit end of the cigarette sweeping dangerously close to her eyelashes. There had been blood all over her coat; even with that discarded, there are still traces on her clothes. "They just work for you, right? Like it's nothing. And then one day they don't come home, and it's—"

She has the humiliating sense of being vulnerable, and the harder sense of being unable to stop being vulnerable. A hard swallow. A little sound, like something small being choked. Bleated: "She's mine. I need her." When she looks at Barton, there is something lost in Mary's eyes. something that says I want you to fix this.

[screenshotingmonstertv]

[babydxhl]

I do think mary lacks enough ethics that she probably has turned up at more than one party toting like. a lion cub as the accessory for the evening

[babydxhl]

@starsorare | starter call.

Mary is a little doll among boxes piled higher than her on the living room floorboards, tissue paper and ribboned bags crowding the coffee table.

The items are erratic: the frantic, delighted spree of someone amassing an entirely new wardrobe in a single afternoon. Polished shoes in every colour and type, new coats, hats, scarves, gloves. Dresses in gingham and houndstooth and tattersall and tartan. Sweaters, skirts, shorts and socks. Jewellery, too, tiny tinkling earrings and a single pearl necklace dangling precariously over the arm of the sofa.

She looks up at Star, blonde curls brushed rough back from her face — too caught up in herself and the thrill of spending to have noticed Star's initial arrival — and her face splits open in a grin. Twin rows of small white teeth.

"You miss me?"

She sits up then, holds out something. A gold bracelet, made up of a fragile chain and eight tiny stars, hangs from her fingertips.

"Got something for you."

[babydxhl]

@brokenbladesandfaces | starter call.

Mary's breath is a shriek in her throat as she scrambles back across the rain-wet concrete — scalp screaming, blood slick down her nose, lip, chin. Her attacker follows, but not with purpose: he slumps, expression slack (dead-dead-dead-please-dead) and as his eyes roll back he lands face down just an inch from her shoes in the alleyway.

The rain is a light mist. The night is quiet, but for the traffic at the alley's end, and Mary's gasping panic. Miriel's scalpel flashes — red and silver — and Mary tries for one long, shuddering inhale. Tries for control.

"He was gonna kill me," she says, almost bleats it, and as the words leave her mouth she realises it had not been what she had meant to say, had not been the grim, jaded remark she had been clutching for. A stranger ready to kill her. And he could have done it.

She blinks. Swallows. Feels the crushing weight of being something fragile.

"...Thanks."

[babydxhl]

@mcnomaniametus | starter call.

"You didn't tell me whether you did it."

Mary doesn't turn her head to look at Jonathan as she hears him in the living room doorway; the glowing tip of her cigarette catches the rise and fall of her features, the curve of her cheekbone, as she leans further out onto the fire escape to exhale smoke long and slow into the night.

What had she seen? Or rather, what had she not seen? What had her mind filled in for her, what had her consciousness turned blankly away from?

A dead girl in an alley. There are a lot of dead girls in a lot of alleys in Gotham — in a lot of cities, even, in every city and suburb and backwater village in the continental US. But Mary had seen that much tonight, coming out the back door of the club and being met with that slack face — sickly green under the exit sign, ludicrous, clownish — and Jonathan standing too close, too close.

Claustrophobic.

"An experiment?" she asks now, disdain creeping in. Her eyes settle on him, but their expression is unreadable, beetle-black in the dim light.

In that quick glance, Mary had recognised the girl — woman, only a girl in the way all women stay girls in places like Gotham, girls being easier to cast aside, always — as Oswald's latest investment. Six shows a week already booked. Thousands of dollars in singing lessons, on the hair, on the clothes. Making it big.

And in that quick glance Mary had gotten involved. Get in the car. Hissed. Her fist clutching Jonathan Crane's sleeve, dragging him away and into the backseat, glancing back once-twice-three times at the closed fire door. A tense, silent car ride.

"Do I get to know?"

[babydxhl]

starter call ❤️

[notmorbid]

my adventures with superman: season 2.

dialogue prompts from the second season of my adventures with superman.

it'll be fine, right?

we didn't get off on the right foot, the first time we met.

tell me what's going on. right now.

who the heck are you?

stay away from my friends.

you are more than i could have ever hoped for.

you are perfect the way you are.

i know a failure when i see one.

i'll always know what's happening. and if i don't, i'll just read it on your face.

is this the way you speak to your _____?

i didn't want you to find me.

you're out of your depth here. i've got this under control.

you can't run this operation without me.

i'm not playing by your rules anymore.

you're amazing, and _____ makes you feel small. i can't forgive that.

how do you take your coffee?

hold on. you're gonna be alright.

never turn your back to the exit.

you and i have business to discuss.

i'm pretty sure i told you to run.

this is my home. i'm staying right here.

maybe reconsider some of your life choices.

i thought being a boss was just giving orders, but it's not.

being a leader isn't about telling people what to do: it's about lifting them up. letting them shine.

we aren't perfect, but given the chance, we can rise to become heroes.

we're doers, not complainers.

you're all i have, and you don't talk to me.

knowledge is power, and power is security.

why don't you trust me?

haven't i proven that i'm good enough?

i'd say 'nothing personal', but you were never my favorite.

i'm tired of being alone. i thought you might be, too.

why would i bring you with me?

we write the story. we don't become the story.

it's my favorite view of the whole city.

nothing's solved by silence.

everyone always leaves me, in the end.

i don't want to fight you, but i won't let you hurt anyone else.

you can't just hold people against their will.

this is not how i pictured our reunion going.

wanting peace isn't weak.

i know what it's like to be lonely.

i'm not lonely. and i'm not alone.

has anyone ever cared for the real you?

that's what _____ wants. what do you want?

your face. it's so easy to mess with you.

you're quick. but i'm faster.

'cruel' is a word invented by the weak.

what's going on? i need to know.

with that money, we could do anything.

we could buy a farm. we could have chickens.

systems are only as good as the people behind them, and people have weaknesses.

i'm never gonna see ____ again, and it's all my fault.

love is not for cowards.

sometimes you have to put it all on the line to be with the person you love.

your love for these people makes you vulnerable.

you just keep disappointing me.

you don't get to control what's in my mind.

i came here because i'm desperately in love with you.

you get to decide what you wanna be. no one else.

you survive to disappoint me yet again.

do you hope these people will think you a hero when you die defending them?

i don't think of you as only human. you're the strongest person i know.

i'm sorry. i was scared, so i pushed you away.

'friends' is pushing it. i just don't want to see the planet destroyed.

what's the play, hero?

will you surrender, or do i have to make you?

you're not alone. i'm here, and i'm not going anywhere.

home isn't a place. home is the people who love you.

i know you can hear me.

all you ever have to do is say my name, and i'll be there.

i don't want to be the second ____. i want to be the first _____.