#⠀⠀┈⠀⠀*⠀possum writes.

[camelidae]

Another character from my book, The Grandest Tales of Clementine – Kickstarter coming in July!

Where there are Noble Paladins and Faithful Steeds there are bound to be fearsome beasts to battle them. And sometimes, as an artist, you just want to take all your favorite parts of animals and smoosh them together. Shad (short for Bringer of Shadows) was the product of just such a smooshing.

All the loveliness of a possum��s snaggly little snoot plus some tusks and some weird horns and claws and lots of fur and some fire thrown in for funsies. Shad is a complicated guy (on the outside and the inside) and maybe he /does/ have a bit of a habit of burning villages to the ground - but I do love him.

And he does his work well! If they gave awards for razing villages (they don’t :c) he would certainly take home first prize.

[netherbored]

* try to think of me as lube for the whole ⎝ you know. the whole 𝑩𝑬𝑰𝑵𝑮 𝑫𝑬𝑨𝑫 𝑻𝑯𝑰𝑵𝑮 ¡

* roleplay portrayal of LAWRENCE BETELGEUSE SHOGGOTH from the beetlejuice musical. broadway ⅋ cartoon coded. based on headcanons. haunted by possum. creeps with @strvngeandunusual. ♥ +18 minors dni.

[self-deprecating-possum]

Fragile Apologies (Yandere! Miguel O’Hara x Gn! Reader)

Content notes: minor spoilers for Spider-Man: Across the Spider-Verse, unhealthy/abusive relationships, verbal & emotional abuse, physical intimidation & violence, minor injuries, implied future imprisonment

Word count: around 4k

Short summary: You thought it would be easy to leave your dying relationship with Miguel. This turned out to be not true.

The sun was setting. It cast a long, orange beam on the wall, and you slowly followed it with your eyes as it advanced, gradually fading.

You purposely didn't look at the clock on the wall, you didn't want to know how much time had passed since Miguel decided to pull you onto his lap, not caring that you were right in the middle of preparing dinner. You were relieved you had not boiled the water in advance. You were not sure if the kitchen would burst into flames by the time your boyfriend lets you go.

Miguel's arms wrapped around you like iron bands. He didn't squeeze tightly enough to cause pain, but even so, you wouldn't have been able to move an inch, no matter how much you wanted to. All you could do for your own comfort was to wrap your legs around his hips and let your hands hang by your sides.

From experience, you knew it wasn't worth begging to be let go, no matter how stiff you were or how important a task you had somewhere else. The easiest way was always to simply wait for him to finish.

Your stomach growled loudly. Maybe… Just this once, he might let you go.

Miguel buried his face in your neck, you felt his hot lips and closed eyes on your skin. Softly, you patted his back with one hand, while attempting to slide the other in the gap between your bodies, hoping he would let you push him away.

He didn't move at all, so you let out a frustrated sigh.

“Miguel” you whispered “Miguel, please, let me go. I'm very hungry.”

Despite trying to move and signal that you wanted to break free, you were ignored. Panic started to set in, but you were trying to overcome it. You grabbed his shoulder to try to push yourself away with full force.

It felt like you were trying to move a concrete wall. He showed no reaction, not even his face moved on the skin of your neck.

"Miguel," you hated how whiny, how sharp your voice was. It sounded annoying even to your own ears. "Please, please, let me go!"

“Enough.”

You immediately stiffened. There was something in his voice that made your throat tighten. You waited for him to say something else, anything, as you lowered your hand to its previous place, but in vain. It seemed like it was enough for him that you didn't protest anymore.

The sun set behind the skyscrapers of Nueva York, and the room plunged into darkness. With a defeated sigh, you rested your chin on his shoulder.

Miguel began tracing playful circles on your back with his thumb, pressing slow, deliberate kisses onto your neck. As if your protest woke him up to the fact that he was holding a living being in his arms. The touch of his skin ignited a flare across yours, and your chest tightened with pain.

If only it had always been like this with him. Or at least sometimes, when you would have been open to him too. He was completely unpredictable, never knowing when he'd acknowledge your existence. From the very start, you knew he wasn't an easy personality, but this was something different. You felt both completely abandoned and overwhelmed at the same time.

You raised a hand to ran your fingers through his hair and felt his hands relax around you. You gently kissed his temple.

Suddenly he tensed, and you stifled a quiet scream. You know he would never hurt you, you told yourself, but you weren't convincing enough. You saw with your own eyes how the iron rods bend under his fingers as if they were made of clay.

You watched every news report on TV and every video that Lyla showed about him. You were well aware of what he was capable of. Even in this moment, he could have snapped your spine at any time, a slightly stronger squeeze would have been enough.

“Okay, that's enough," said Miguel, as if you were the one who didn't want to let him go, not the other way around.

"Hey!"

He pushed you off his lap. You would have fallen if he hadn't caught your arm to hold you. You grabbed onto him to regain your balance while he turned his attention towards his watch.

“Lyla, is there anything new?”

“Yes there is, but I didnt want to disturb you lovebirds. It seems like there’s some new info about Vulture, but nothing imminent. Still no info about his whereabouts.”

Miguel hissed in frustration and then turned his back to you. He started heading towards his own room.

"Didn't you want to make dinner?" he threw back before the door closed behind him.

You just stared after him for a few moments, standing alone in the dark room.

"Asshole," you said to the door. You sounded more tired than angry.

You went back to the kitchen and continued preparing dinner. Your home appliances could have made anything you wanted, probably cheaper (and tastier) than you, but there was a certain comfort in this simple routine that you couldn't let go of. Right now, you needed your hands to be busy as you thought through your situation, likely for the hundredth time in the past few weeks.

You didn't want to live like this. That was the simple truth.

When you first got together, Miguel was different. Not by much, but different. He was still willing to put energy into your relationship. However, since then, there have been more and more threats, work and problems, not to mention the number of Spider-Men he kept track of.

He doesn't have the time or energy for those little things that made you fall in love in the first place. You knew what had happened to him before you met, what happened to his daughter and that other universe. You tried to be understanding, genuinely.

Honestly, if it were only you suffering, maybe you could let go of all this, but it seemed like that Miguel also didn't want this relationship that much. Those tender moments that used to be so common between you, the hugs, the kisses, the intimate touches were increasingly scarce.

No, scarcity is not the right word for it. These moments between you slowly condensed into a single point, first daily, then weekly, lately almost monthly, when you often could do nothing but endure whatever he put you through.

You didn't want to think this way about the person you loved more than anything, but when you looked deep inside yourself, you knew you were starting to fear him. It didn't help much that when he wasn't being controlling, he often just plain ignored you, like he was doing right now.

When it first occurred to you that you should move out, you dismissed the thought. Then again. And again.

And then you didn’t.

It was much easier to find a rental apartment than you thought. Even Lyla helped when you asked her to. She hesitated, but not much, she just said you definitely have to talk to Miguel about it, and you agreed with her. You didn't understand why you haven't brought up the matter to him since then.

Maybe because you knew trying to reason with him wouldn't accomplish anything, as you had asked him many times before to consider your feelings. Maybe because you felt this was a much bigger step than anything you've brought up before. Or maybe it was the guilt you felt over the fact that you were increasingly looking forward to the date when you could finally move out.

This date was tomorrow.

You finished dinner. Two plates of boiled egg sandwiches with salad and a soft drink. Nothing special, you just tried to drag out the preparation as long as possible. You laid everything out on the table and then leaned against the counter. It's been so long since you've eaten together like this. Lately, Miguel ate everything in his own room or wherever he happened to be on a mission.

You took a deep breath, then pushed yourself off the counter. You started walking towards Miguel's room to knock. You thought you'd have to beg again, so you were surprised when the door slid open in front of you.

You entered the dimly lit, cold room filled with humming and blinking computers. You didn't like being here. You never knew when you'd see something on one of the screens that you couldn't get out of your head for weeks.

"What is it?" Miguel sounded annoyed, but at least he turned in his chair to look at you. You saw his eyes searching your hand for the plate of dinner you usually set outside his door, as if he were a teenage kid and you a resigned parent. When he realized you were empty-handed, he furrowed his eyebrows. "Is something wrong?"

You cleared your throat. You felt your heart racing, making you feel like an idiot. You had prepared for this moment for so long, yet now you wanted to turn around and flee. But why am I still so scared?

“No, I just want to talk to you. Can you come out a bit? I've set the table outside.”

Miguel looked like he would rather say he was too busy, but when he looked at your face, it was clear that he knew something was wrong. After a brief silence, he spoke up in a surprisingly gentle tone.

"Just give me a minute to finish this. Lyla!"

You didn't wait to hear all his instructions. You went back to the kitchen and waited for him there.

"If this matter is so important, you can tell me now," Miguel said.

"Let's eat first, please. We can talk after. I promise, this will be the only time.”

It was clear that this did not decrease his suspicion, but rather fuelled it. Nevertheless, he sat down and without any further talk picked up his sandwich. This compelled you to do the same.

As you ate, you tried to formulate in your mind what you would eventually say to him from the myriad of possibilities you had gathered. It proved to be surprisingly difficult, and you didn't feel ready to speak when you finally finished eating.

Miguel leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms over his chest.

“Well? I'm all ears.”

There was something so condescending in his voice that your jaw tightened. You closed your eyes for a moment before you spoke. You tried to keep your voice calm.

“I've been thinking a lot lately. About you, about us… You know this isn't working. I don't know if Lyla told you, but…"

Miguel slammed the table so hard that the cutlery clinked. Your breath hitched. You didn't even see him move.

“Again, seriously? Look, I don't have time for this. I understand that you're not happy with the current situation, and believe me, neither am I. But still…”

“I want to leave you, Miguel.”

He immediately stopped talking. You just stared at each other. The sound of the impact was still ringing in your ears.

Eventually, you broke the silence again.

"I'm sorry. Believe me, I really am sorry. I know we've tried a lot…" I tried, you told yourself, “but I don't want to continue this. It will be better for both of us if we can move on."

“Vale” he said dryly.”And what are you going to do after this? Do you have any idea what's out there in the city?”

"Yes. I've already found an apartment, well, we've found one with Lyla."

Another silence followed. You stood up from the table.

“I'm sorry” you said again. You didn't even know what got into you when you reached out to stroke his hair.

"Don't," he hissed, causing your hand to stop in the air. He turned away from you.

“What are you waiting for? Pack your stuff and get out of here.”

This time you didn't hesitate. You turned around and left to gather your things.

***

Unbelievable. Just fucking unbelievable, really.

A week had passed since you moved out. Miguel refused to use the word ‘permanently’. At first, he didn't even want to believe that you were really capable of going so far as to bring up the breakup, and he never dreamed that you would actually go through with it.

As you packed, he waited for the moment when you'd break down and apologize, when you'd take everything back to let things return to how they used to be.

As it turned out, he waited in vain. Somehow, you had enough backbone not to waver as you always did before. This was his mistake, he should have noticed the signs that this time you are not just planning, but also acting.

His fist clenched at the thought that Lyla helped you without telling him. This could never happen again. When you told him this, he was so furious that he was on the verge of smashing the table between you. He was so angry that he feared he might actually harm you. This is partly why he didn't stand in your way when you started pulling your suitcase out.

But now? Now he was left alone, and he knew he would never be able to truly let you go.

He lay alone in his bed. He managed to fall asleep on the first night, perhaps he didn't even dream, but then he woke up in the middle of the night. He was so used to you being next to him when he slept, regardless of the time of day, that when he didn't hear your breathing in his sleep, panic immediately set in.

He woke up to his heart almost bursting out of his chest, while clutching the spot on the sheet where you usually lay. He hated himself for being so predictable, and he hated you for eliciting this from him even when you weren't near.

Since then, he hardly slept at all. He was so tense that even the slightest slight could push him to the brink of a rage fit. For a while, Lyla didn't even try to reason with him.

He immediately got your address from her, of course, then checked it out for himself. He deliberately didn't go when he knew you would be home, but he couldn't help it, he had to cling to the walls of the surrounding buildings to watch when your figure, shrouded in shadows, got home.

Villains came to his mind. They were the ones who thought like him in this moment. Obsessively focusing on a single target as if his life depended on it… In a way, it was a very petty mindset. Not suited for someone responsible for the safety of others. But that's exactly what he was doing – watching over you and ensuring no threat reached you. Of course, he continued to track Vulture and the others as well, not to mention the other Spider-People, but it was true that they all took a backseat when it came to you.

No, he wasn’t like the villains. He did this because you were important to him. If you had a little sense, you could have seen this too. That's why he waited through this week to calm down enough to speak to you in a normal tone. If possible, it would have been best if you came back to him of your own free will, but if he scares you, he might achieve the opposite.

Actually, what he wanted most was for you to come back on your own with your stupid suitcase, but so far you've held firm. It seemed you were doing just fine without him. Sometimes he even caught you humming to yourself on the way home. You haven't done that in months at his place. Miguel didn't even want to admit to himself that this made a small part of his heart ache.

The problem was that as time went on, he didn't become calmer, quite the opposite. If he wasn't thinking about you, then he was thinking about the things that could harm you while you weren't with him. If something were to happen to you when he wasn't there…

He didn't finish the thought. He couldn't.

A soft beep came from his watch. A reported robbery. Since it seemed the local patrol had already dealt with the matter, he almost settled back down, but then he glanced at the holographic map.

He immediately jumped to his feet. His blood thudded in his ears so loudly that he could barely hear Lyla's responses to the instructions he barked at her as he headed out.

The robbery had occurred near your block. Right next to you.

***

You stood with your arms crossed in front your chest in the window of your third-floor living room. The sirens had long since gone silent and the police had left. The case did not seem serious, and you were not overly worried. These things were not unusual in this city. Before you got together with Miguel, you often saw similar crimes.

Miguel. You thought you would miss him more, but from the very first days you felt the invisible weight lifting off your shoulders. You unpacked the few belongings you brought with you and started creating a new life for yourself.

It was good to occupy yourself with something other than ruminating about your ex. It was strange that you no longer had to think about when you would push him away or make him angry with some insignificant detail.

At first, you didn't even notice the dull thud that sounded like a heavy object had hit the wall of your panel apartment.

Then your bedroom window burst.

You slapped your hand over your mouth before you could scream. You looked around the room, then crouched behind the couch in the corner, using the clatter of the glass shards to cover the sound of your movement. You didn't turn on the light in the living room because you didn't want anyone to notice you watching the police cars, but the light was on in your bedroom. The intruder must have seen this.

Who was currently out in the city? Vulture? Venture? And who else? They shouldn't have known who you are. While you were with Miguel, you barely left the apartment. No one has seen you two in the same place for months.

You covered your face with your palm as a massive thud shook the wall behind you. That might have been the door that led to the hallway.

“Where are you?”

Your breath hitched. This can't be happening.

You almost answered him, but changed your mind at the last minute. You flinched when another blow shook the house. It was the wall mirror.

You pulled your knees to your chest, using one hand to stifle the sob rising in your throat, and the other to pull your phone out of your pocket. Who should you call? You can't send normal cops after Miguel. Plus, you've never heard him like this.

A superhero wouldn't harm innocents… But a superhero wouldn't break into his ex's home like this either. If he just wants to save you from something, then why did he smash everything in his path? No, you felt that you shouldn't come out, but with his senses, it shouldn't have taken much time for him to find you.

As if he heard your thoughts.

“I know you're here. I can smell you.”

His voice was slightly calmer than it was a few moments ago. You heard him take a deep breath. This meant that it was quiet enough that if you started crying now, he would find you instantly.

You didn't dare to move. Tears freely flowed down your face, but you didn't feel it. Suddenly, you became very aware that you really had no idea how good his hearing was.

He stopped in the hallway. What was he doing? Fiddling with something, but what…

Your phone rang in your hand.

The next moment, the couch disappeared in front of you. You didn't have time to end the call before Miguel grabbed your shirt to pull you up. Your back hit the wall, knocking all the air out of your lungs. Your phone fell to the ground, but you didn't even try to catch it. Sharp claws tore up the fabric of your clothes where he held you.

You cried out in pain and terror.

For a moment, you locked eyes with each other before Miguel's red gaze slid down to scan your body. It took a little time for you to realize he was looking for injuries.

When he was convinced that you were unharmed, he slightly loosened his grip, but not enough for you to break free. You desperately clung to his wrist, despite knowing that if he wanted to kill you, nothing would stop him, especially not your weak human hands.

"Please, don't hurt me," you whimpered from the depths of your throat.

He growled. You had never heard this sound from him before.

“Hurt you? Are you out of your mind? I'm here to take you home.”

You didn't dare shake your head, but he must have seen something in your eyes. Suddenly, you felt your feet on the floor again.

Miguel dragged you by the remnants of your shirt like a ragdoll. Your mind was foggy with panic, yet you instinctively tried to dig your heel into the carpet. As you passed by the doorway, you reached out to grasp it, but it didn't slow him down. You felt something crack in your shoulder, then the burning pain flooded you. You had to let go.

You needed all your willpower not to scream when you saw what he had done to your apartment. It was as if someone had let loose a small hurricane. Your knee was scraped raw on the few feets leading to your front door, not to mention the shards of glass Miguel dragged you over. You were so terrified that you barely felt the pain.

You thought he would drag you straight out of the apartment, so you squeaked in surprise when he stopped in front of the door and let go of your shirt. As you collapsed unceremoniously onto the floor, he stood in front of you.

"I want you to pay very close attention to me, because I won't say this again. What do you see?"

You looked at him in shock. You followed his gaze with your eyes as he pointed to the lock.

"The door handle?”

He growled so loudly that your chest trembled. He reached down to roughly grab the back of your neck. His claws left shallow scratches on your skin as he forced you to stare at the lock above the door handle.

"This is a damn biometric identifier. Do you know how long it takes for someone to get a few samples from you? For God's sake, do you know how hard it would be to break in here?”

You were afraid that a stronger jerk and he might just tear your head off. You whimpered like a cornered animal.

"Answer me!"

"Very easy?" you muttered.

“Exactly! And do you know what's the deal with your windows? Anyone can see in, from anywhere, not to mention breaking in.”

Yes, you demonstrated that very well, you thought numbly, but you had the sense not to say it out loud. He let go again, and you took the opportunity to slide against the wall. You huddled up just like you did in the living room only a few minutes ago.

Miguel said something in Spanish, but he spoke too quickly for you to understand. He paced back and forth in front of you.

"I simply don't understand what was going through your head. It's a miracle you're still alive. What if those on the streets decide to break in? What if they follow you to your apartment?"

He roughly ran his hand through his hair.

"I know foresight isn't your strong suit, that's for sure, but even you have to see this. You need to come back with me. It's obvious you can't keep yourself safe."

You were about to shake your head, but you stopped yourself. Instead, you covered your face, and agonizing sobbing broke out of you again.

A little time passed, which seemed like hours to you, but could only have been a few minutes. Miguel stayed silent, and you had no idea what he might be doing. You didn't hear him move among the shards of glass, but that didn't mean much. If he wanted to, he could remain completely silent.

Somewhere in the distance, sirens began to wail.

You flinched when you felt his hand on your arm. His claws were no longer out. You didn't answer him when he called you by your name. You were still crying.

“Damn it” he said quietly. “Please, calm down.”

You tried to hold yourself back, you didn't want to anger him again, but you couldn't. Even though every part of you protested when you felt him gently pull your hand away from your face, you didn't resist. Now you could see that he had squatted down in front of you. He wiped a tear off your face with his thumb.

It was evident that he wanted to say something more, but then he changed his mind. This time, much more gently, he reached out to pull you into his arms. As he drew you close to his chest, you responded by clinging to him and burying your face in his shoulder.

You could feel the movement of his muscles beneath his skin as he let out a sigh.

"God, I missed you so much."

You had no idea what expression he might be wearing. Tears were still streaming from your eyes, soaking his superhero suit, but it no longer seemed to bother him.

"I'll never let you go again."

[tothvman]

* roleplay portrayal of DEWEY FINN from the school of rock musical. based on broadway adaptation from 2015. headcanon based. rocked by ♯ possum. semi-selective. crossover friendly. ships with chemistry ﹙ taken @rockhevrted ♥︎ ﹚ +18 minors dni!

[possumdnp]

I'm just feeling so happy today that the gaming channel came back from hiatus and we're in this timeline :')

this past year has honestly been the most fun I've ever had in the phandom <3 you all are so kind and creative and funny, and I've loved talking about Dip and Pip with you all <3

[possuminabathtub]

Mel was weird, Danny decided, really weird. He didn’t pay all that much attention to his classmates, but when she had leaned over in the middle of a Calculus lecture and made a stupid math joke, then looked confused when the professor glared at the both of them for Danny’s loud snort of laughter, he had started to warm up to her.

She reminded him of Sam, with her pitch black hair and pale skin. Or Tim, with that sharp, observant look in her eyes, like she might pick somebody apart to see how they worked. There wasn’t really any one thing he could really put his finger on that made her any stranger than the average Gotham University student, but he supposed he wasn’t exactly in a position to speculate on strangeness, considering his family of assorted bats and birds.

Now that he thought about it, her ectoplasmic signature was one thing he could be certain was strange. It wasn’t like anything he’d seen before. Not pit tainted like Jason’s had been, not strictly ghostly, but also not a halfa like him or Ellie. He could feel what almost resembled a ghost core, nestled comfortably into her ribcage, but it was a void, a blackhole, everything and nothing at the same time, depthless and yet overflowing.

So yes, Mel was weird, but she was also his English tutor, so she couldn’t be all that bad.

----

Trying out something new bc I've delved into the DPxDC fandom a lot recently, and I've been trying to write more with the flow of inspiration and just have fun with it. Mel felt like the right choice for that, since she's got years of character development and writing her comes so easily (and she conveniently fits very well into the setting)

[maochira]

Lorenzo likes to imitate the noises of any animal you come across or show him a picture of because he likes to make you laugh with it. It's stupid and silly and sometimes slightly embarrassing when you're in public, but Lorenzo doesn't care. If there's a cat he will go meow meow and if there's a dog he will go woof woof because seeing you giggle about it makes him so happy. He also tries to talk to the animals and you think that's also to make you laugh, but he's genuinely trying to communicate with those animals. He's convinced one day he can hold an entire conversation with a cat.

But no matter how many different animal noises he makes, he will forever be a possum at heart.

Taglist (sign-up link): @kaineedstherapy12 @luvcalico @vanitasbrainrot @deerangle3 @futuristicxie @bluelock4life @https-archangel @userwithlotsoftime @chaosinanutshell

[teething-possum]

Galaxy Grim

By: Harper A. (@teething-possum)

(A poem about Laika, the Soviet Space Dog, who I’ve been referring to as “little Cosmomutt, the smallest of the Cosmonauts” for the past like. 17 hours.)

-

In Europe, long ago,

They would bury dogs in new cemeteries,

To have them guide souls to the afterlife,

So no human would be forced to stay

They called them Church Grims, Little Cosmonaut,

And you have seemed to become our Galaxy’s Grim,

Guiding our space cadets to the vast void if they don’t return to us,

And I can think of no one better for the job

Little Cosmonaut, did you understand your role?

Did you know you wouldn’t return?

That you would never feel wind in your fur as you ran again?

Did your young mind know you would die, alone, hot and scared?

Some may say you were a mutt,

But you were *our* mutt,

With stardust in your fur and pride in our hearts

We are honored to have been served by you

And we will honor your service forever in return

Oh, Little Cosmonaut, do not fret,

You may chase the planets through orbit for eternity,

No one will mind, you did your job,

You were a good girl, and we remember you

We will always remember our Galaxy Grim, Laika,

The First Soul in Our Solar Graveyard

[seijorhi]

In honor of his birthday I just wanna say I am obsessed with Imitation!Kuroo. So devoted to his darling, even after all this time. And special shout out to Imitation!Reader who is like, "Y'know what. I like being alive, so RIP to those other girls, but I'm different." And did what she needed to do to survive. I wish her much success on her mission to become number one darling in his heart, because honestly HE ISN'T SO BAD WHEN YOU FOLLOW THE RULES.

i do so love imitation kuroo, poor, broken, delusional boy <33

it's such a doomed situation. she'll have to lose every part of herself for the faintest sliver of hope of outlasting the others.

[emotional-support-hufflepuff]

Chibi!reverb 2024!

Hey guys, this is my first reverb, and I had a blast working on it with the artist I paired up with Sioban! Their ideas for a bit of bittersweet in the bake were amazing and I had fun writing about Soul and his misadventures with Maka, Black star, and Crona as he tries to get his bakery up and running.

This one shot collection turned out bigger then I had planned and I'm excited to share it. This will probably keep growing so for now here's the start of A bit of bittersweet in the bake

[jonsaremembers]

Trick or treat! 🎃

For you, a treat, always!

"What do you want to be for Halloween?" Phil asks as he rifles through his closet, sliding hangers this way and that, trying to think through his (admittedly patchy) mental inventory of props, onesies and other silly hats they've accumulated over the years.

"A giant fucking penis," Dan says dryly, not looking up from reddit.

"Ha, ha."

"We don't actually have a show on Halloween so you can be whatever you want."

Phil's eyes land on his red silk pajamas. "What about a vampire?"

Dan shrugs. "Sounds easy enough."

"What could you be that goes along with that?"

"Our costumes don't always have to be a duo, Phil."

"Yes, we do," Phil insists. "You could be a vampire victim."

"What, dress up as Dan Howell from The Urge?" Dan snorts.

Phil cracks up. "Not what I was thinking, but I like it. The kids would shit, though."

"I think I have my ringwraith coat in a box somewhere still," Dan says thoughtfully. "Straighten my hair, put a stick up my ass, carry around a copy of TABINOF..."

Phil rolls his eyes. "Or you could just be a werewolf."

"I'll paint you glittery and we can be Twilight."

"Team Phedward."

[cosmicholloway]

if(getsThrownACurveball == TRUE){

brain.status = "AAAAA"; }

(But we function best with last minute crunchtime pressure, right??)

[jades-typurriter]

Pretty Fly For A Brundlehaj

This is a commission for @totalcudgel done back in September 2023, starring her witch OC (who you may recognize from this story a few days ago) and with a guest appearance from Sally.

Well. Eloise had to say that this was the most off-course she’d ever had one of her rituals go.

She mentally retraced her steps, trying to figure out where it had gone wrong. She’d heard about other spells that had ended in the merging of the subject and nearby materials, but that had been a spell with the aim of displacement; it made perfect sense that, if one tried to move a body to a space where something already existed, the two would become interlaced with each other. The results had been a tempting lead in the pursuit of magic to perfect her own form—the combination of a human mage with an insectile bystander was nearly seamless!—but the magic was too unpredictable for her to be willing to attempt it.

Already satisfied with her appearance, she had been attempting something unrelated. A form of transmutation, one could argue, but on a conceptual level rather than a physical one. It was honestly fairly well-trodden ground! Alchemists had done similar work for decades (love potions were in high demand, and to make a subject more suggestible was child’s play with tinctures of truth and similar concoctions), but she had neither the materials nor the experience to take that approach, and she felt it to be in contempt of consent, besides. A ritual to adjust something about herself, to increase her appeal, would be easier for her to execute and weigh less on her conscience. She had a hot date, and she was set on making herself irresistible to other trans women.

She supposed her major error was in not keeping her ritual space clear. Even if she wasn’t attempting to move anything, magic was finicky, and liked to reach its ethereal fingers into anything particularly receptive that happened to be nearby. She should have figured that a stuffed animal, an object that typically was the object of much sentimentality, would count, especially given its reputation among her “target audience”. She realized that something was awry when she could feel literal threads weaving through her at the same time of the more metaphorical threads of the spell.

By the time she had looked down to take stock of herself, it was already too late: her hands had morphed into soft, padded, and most importantly, blunt abstractions of paws that could no longer perform the gestures to dispel the magic. Her fur shortened all across her body, and was now tinged a pale blue; that same fur had sprouted all along her tail, which now bore a floppy pair of fins at the tip. Her teeth… well, they didn’t sharpen. They became longer, and they came to a sort of point, but they were as squishy as the rest of her, now; she was glad that her tongue was no longer wet with drool, or it’d be little more than a soggy flap of felt before long.

There was just no way around it. She wasn’t just a plushie, she was a bean bag. A few hundred pounds of flesh and bone had, in a flash, turned into—what, a hundred pounds of stuffing? It was strange how slow to move she still felt. She supposed that paper falls slowly because its weight didn’t push very much against the air, and that her body was now doing something similar. At least it was one less thing to get used to. She already had to adjust to being half shark. How would she explain that to Sally? The whole reason she had even attempted this was that the two of them had a date tonight, and now—

Knock knock knock.

Oh, for the love of—

“Eloise?” came the raccoon’s contralto from the other side of her front door. The witch hesitated; she’d known Sally long enough that she’d probably be comfortable just walking in after announcing herself, which meant that she didn’t have much time to come up with… with a cover story, or a way to reverse the spell, or something. She briefly considered playing dead—she supposed she was still half-possum—and pretending to be a regular plushie, but she had started this whole endeavor in the name of honesty, and she supposed that would be how she finished it, too.

“Come in,” she sighed, her shoulders slumping. The door creaked open, and Sally gasped as she walked in, striped tail swishing behind her and head cocking to one side.

“Well, aren’t you cute!” she chuckled, walking over to where Eloise stood at her desk, looking up at her newly-rounded snout. “What in the hell happened?”

“I was…” Eloise hesitated. She crossed her arms and huffed. “I was trying to get ready for our date.”

“Well, hon, I’ve seen botched eyeliner, or, y’know a bad dye job—I’ve even seen some wardrobe malfunctions! But usually that involves tearing fabric, and not, uh, becoming it.”

“I suppose that my great talent lends itself to the extraordinary,” she blustered, trying to seem at least a little composed in all of this. “Even extraordinary failure.”

“Hey, I wouldn’t use the word failure! I wasn’t just poking fun when I said I thought you looked cute like this.”

“It’s not a total loss, then,” Eloise conceded. “Our date seems like it’s going to be a wash, though. Going out to dinner without a digestive system seems… ill-conceived.”

“Doesn’t have to be. A date can just be a cozy night in, too.” Ah. Of course she couldn’t get off the hook that easily.

“A-are you sure? I was rather hoping to wait out the effects of the spell and plan something with you another time—”

“Eloise, c’mon. Are you telling me that this isn’t the perfect opportunity to stay in and snuggle up?” She wanted to protest, but something about the way she said it was extremely compelling. Downright tempting, even. The part about snuggling? Was that because she was part plush toy? Did plush toys have cravings? She would have to dig further into this once she had returned to normal, but in the meantime—

“...That doesn’t sound too bad.”

“Great!” Sally cried, already pulling off her coat. “Just show me to the bed and we can see what exactly you’re made of.”

And so Eloise did. She took up most of it even when she wasn’t a massive pillow-creature, but that wasn’t a problem for Sally. After Eloise had clambered up and rolled over to look back at her date, the raccoon climbed up after her, flopping onto the possum’s tummy and shuffling up to perch on top of her.

“I hope you don’t mind me getting comfy,” Sally rumbled in that husky voice of hers. Eloise, for her part, looked away, bashful, but trying as ever to seem cool and collected.

“You’re already in my bed on the first date. Why develop reservations now?”

“You’re right,” the raccoon cracked, “We already canceled our reservations when we decided not to go out.” The plushie turned her gaze back to Sally, whose snout was inches from hers. She tried to keep the eye contact cold, so as not to entertain the pun, but she broke first, snorting and sending the both of them into a fit of giggles.

The two of them spent the rest of the night getting even cozier with each other. Sally’s digits sank into Eloise’s memory-foam midsection; Eloise rolled over, smushing Sally like a weighted blanket; fluffy tail and chunky tail intertwined, the two of them looking for every place they could find to get a tiny bit closer to each other. By the time Sally awoke, Eloise was back to her full-possum, no-stuffing self, clinging to the raccoon as the two of them spooned.

“Oh,” she mumbled, groggily. “Have you been up long?” She wriggled around to face Eloise, once again bringing her masked eyes to meet the possum’s.

“Only a short while,” she replied.

“But you still could’ve gotten up without waking me? Had a good stretch after being squished in so many places, maybe gotten a bite to eat?”

“I suppose I could’ve. Why do you bring it up?”

“Oh, nothing,” Sally hummed. “It’s just, you seemed awfully eager to get rid of me last night so you could figure out how to deal with the whole… IKEAfication situation, and yet, you’re still in bed. It’s just a little funny—I think you’re just as cuddly normally as you are when you’re all plush out!”

“I simply didn’t want to disturb you,” Eloise countered, as coolly as she could. One of the great misfortunes of a flesh-and-blood body, though, was that that blood was liable to rush to the skin. Really, it made it quite a bit harder to seem as confident as she often sounded. The smile on Sally’s snout grew wider and wider, and Eloise began to feel the burning in her cheeks as she realized she’d been given away. As the raccoon started to laugh again, Eloise seized an advantage that hadn’t been lost in her reversion to her normal form: she could still smother the girl in her chest and spare herself the eye contact.

Thank you for reading! If you'd like a commission of your own, my prices are here; if you'd just like to see more of my work, check here!

[quirkypossum]

i just decided all my star wars fics are in an au where the clones fast aging thing is tied to the inhibitor chips and stops when the chip is damaged or removed

[scarrypossmscribs]

Maybe a reverse comfort with James, where he had a nightmare that brought back bad memories? Or MC trying to escape from James after he had kidnapped them? Or even one where MC makes a new friend, and starts spending more time with them then James. Those are just some prompts off the top of my head.

A Feeble Attempt ~ BLD Mini Fic 

James belongs to @hotpinkmoon!    cw!Mild gore cw!Vomit (mentioned once but just to be safe, reader did not vomit just felt like they might) cw!Implied Stalking cw!Kidnapping cw!Death    [srry this took a bit to write! i got carried away a bit] 

Just when you had thought life was going well for you.

You had just started making more connections, other than the first meeting you had with James that fateful night. So why? Why did you ignore the signs? The furrowed brows whenever you mentioned one of the new people you had met. The heated glares at anyone who touched you, or anyone you touched, that you'd see sometimes when he thought you weren't looking. Sharp eyes practically screaming at them to get away, that you're his. Even while masked, his facial expression silently spelled out how much he wanted to tear their corpses to shreds. Foolish. And oh so naive. Whoever told you not to judge a book by its cover as a child could go suck an egg. James had left a few hours earlier to go to... well whatever his job was. Though it was hard to imagine it was anything legal, after what he had done to you the night before. Leaving you all alone with your self-deprecating thoughts. The thick chain bound to your ankle weighed down on you, not just physically, but mentally as well. A heavy feeling settled uninvited on your chest, squeezing your lungs as you felt a headache build up from the unending waves of stress threatening to drag you back into a dreamless sleep. Hah.. maybe that would be better actually. So you wouldn't have to deal with all this right now. The newly formed headache wasn't helping the dull pain from when James knocked you out earlier, either.

Eyes fluttering closed, your mind brings you back to a few weeks ago, when this all started.

Getting close to people, especially when you'd just moved to a new town, wasn't always the easiest thing. The first time you met James was a lucky... or unlucky accident. But finally, after at least a month, you'd broken down the walls of one of your co-workers. You remember telling James, eyes shining, how you'd exchanged numbers and had started chatting with each other outside of work. And how he responded with an eye roll, reminding you to be careful about who you put your trust in. Which you had ended up teasing him for, because didn't the both of you only meet a month ago? You had laughed at the irony of his words back then. A cheeky smile on your face as you watched him eye roll again, boasting about how he wasn't a loser like your co-worker. Why hadn't you noticed the malice in his tone back then? You had continued to meet up with your new friend, though you tried not to mention them around James as much, as his jealousy became more and more obvious. Why did you think that was normal? Until last night, when you'd gone to grab dinner with them. It was such a normal night. A simple meeting between two new friends. The sky was clear of clouds, the air fresh with the scent of summer. Sun setting across the horizon as the moon became more visible in the sky. Stars starting to peak out one by one, decorating the sky as one of nature's most wonderful pieces of art. Only the feeling of regret that the day was ending weighed on your mind. They had left for a moment to go get something from their car as you waited for them to come back so you could both order. Only for that moment to turn into 15 minutes, and then half an hour. Your heart had been filled with disappointment. The budding trust between you completely shattered. Did they really ditch you? Why? Confused frustration sunk into your brain, trying to reflect on all your interactions. Over analyzing every word and facial expression, the thought that maybe you had done something wrong forming a pit in your stomach.

Leaving the restaurant, you had checked your phone to give them a piece of your mind. Just... something to express the pain you were currently trying to push down. Only to be confused at the panicked, misspelled texts all over the screen. ...Maybe you shouldn't keep your phone on silent anymore. Trying to sift through the barrage of messages, you feel your blood run cold.

8:02 Het i think something/one is following me? Taking the long way from my car, ill b back a little late, dw and just order

8:05 Im def bejng followed, im sure of it, its some mask wearking dude holy fuck hoym

8:06 Shot sjit why did i goin and ally way oh ym god he has a knofe im running tm please pelase read this im begigng you its the one to the rght i think restirant i mean call somekne or soemtbing just plesae read this

8:06 Red hair green eye s please read tbis typjng is hard im so scared hesn fuckng llaughing trung 911 its hrd pleas e help

All the other messages had too many spelling mistakes to piece together, but you got the meaning. Red hair? Green eyes? Masked? Trying to block out the similarities you squeezed through the cluttered alleyway. Trying not to trip over discarded boxes or abandoned litter as you had frantically searched for any sign of them. You remember how just moments before they were showing off the area, smiling as they told you how they knew all the secret shortcuts around town. Now it seemed like this was a shortcut to their death. You shook your head, trying to clear the unwanted thoughts. Don't think like that. They didn't die. They probably dropped their phone. They're going to be okay. Your self-comfort came to an abrupt stop as the sight of a bloodied body came into view. There was blood... so much blood that you had thought your sight would've been stained red forever. The dark red fluid clearly looking coagulated. It was obvious that they had died a bit ago. Frozen, you felt your guts twist at the sight of theirs. The urge to throw up rising in your throat. You quickly moved your eyes away. Trying not to gag as you took out your phone to call the cops, only to notice their left hand. They still had their phone in their hand, and from where you were, you could see how the screen was cracked, and how their hand was broken and odd angles. You shivered, horrified by how the killer went out of their way to make their death so much more painful. This didn't just look like a murder, but torture. With a sudden BANG, your head had been slammed against the wall behind you, skewed sight taking in the red-haired attacker above you. "Tsk, I shouldn't have played around with them." James muttered under his breath, looking down at corpse before stomping on their hand once again. He looked calmer after doing so, smiling as he looked back at you with soft eyes. "Shh babe, don't cry." He murmured adoringly, cupping your face and wiping the tears you didn't know were there, before picking up your slumped body with ease. Head stinging and teary eyes drooping closed, the last thing you saw was the moon's curved smile looking down on you mockingly, the twinkling stars seeming to laugh at your stupidity as the breeze sighed in disappointment. Why were you sleeping? Why weren't you trying to escape?!

Your brain forced you to jolt awake, back to reality, back to being confined in someone's 'house'. Frustrated tears stung your eyes again as a helpless feeling sunk into your bones. A suffocating pain that you couldn't get rid of. Why couldn't you just have had a dreamless sleep like you wanted? Still though, gulping back your feelings, you shakily remembered those last words that had rung through your mind. With all the time in the world to start planning, you looked around the room. Scouring for any way to escape, or anything you could use to get out. The small room had no windows. Not even a door. It was both frustrating and favorable for you. You couldn't see what time it was outside, but at the same time, James wouldn't be able to see what you were doing inside. And the exit was right there. Though it wasn't like you'd be able to get past it. Not with the chain around your leg. Though you were glad he hadn't used to shorter collar one on you that you got a glimpse of before. Contemplating, you stared at your ankle in silence. Trying to brainstorm any way to get it off. Breaking the chain would take too long, and you were positive that James would be able to quickly find out what you were trying to do. Playing nice wasn't an option either. No way were you going to go along with whatever he had in store for you. Not after everything you had seen him do.

Then you had no other options left. You had already tried looking around for anything useful, but of course, James wouldn't leave anything like that within reach.   Closing your eyes, and trying to imitate what you had seen in a horror movie you had once watched with him, with a few tries and a loud pop, your ankle was dislocated.  

Waves of pain shot up your nerves, and you grit your teeth, trying to swallow back a scream of pain.     At least you were able to slip out of the damn thing.   You quickly learned leaning or putting any weight on that leg was almost unbearable, using the objects around you to get up and make your way over to the curtain door.     Finally-  Hope bubbling in your chest, the taste of freedom was only one bite away. Your home, your bed, your job. The thought of being in your room again fueling your determination to push on past the pain your body felt.    Only for that hope and determination to be crushed the moment you moved the curtain. Vibrant eyes met yours, toxic green seeping a chilling cold that forced goosebumps to crawl up your skin. Dread seeped into every pore on your body as his tall frame cast a heavy shadow on yours. "And where do you think you're going, sweetheart? You should have known that this wasn't going to be as easy as you'd hoped.

[possuminabathtub]

Spooky Scary Stem Majors

A/N : Okay, so this isn't exactly a part 3 of this little thing, and I dunno when inspo for a part 3 will strike, but this little Justice League interlude popped up in my brain and I really just had to write it, and now I'm posting it because why not, might as well, it's my blog (: (something I have to remind myself of sometimes). Anywho, this is mostly just a battle and then chatter between Mel and a bunch of other characters but Danny is involved a bit towards the end, so if you'd rather skip to that banter, I can't stop you. Wordcount : 3836

 Bruce had been in his fair share of tight spots, but this was beyond anything he’d ever seen. The Justice League was scattered across the globe, his kids and the vigilantes of Gotham were rallying themselves in an effort to salvage what was ultimately a losing battle. He could see Diana, a gold speck in the distance locked in a vicious tussle with a creature the size of a skyscraper. 

  Phantom, Danny, was writhing, affected by something, and as much as Bruce’s heart ached and told him he needed to help his son, Dick had it covered, and Bruce wasn’t equipped to go anywhere, with his leg crushed and trapped by debris. Danny was their only hope, and hopefully Zatanna and Constantine were pulling their weight across the globe. The rift needed to be closed. 

  Lightning cracked through the darkened sky and a hulking giant dressed in bearskin and wielding a massive sword appeared a few feet from Danny. Bruce felt his heart clench with dread. But the giant didn’t even look at Danny, just let out a bellowing roar as lightning struck again, char broiling the nearest hostile creature in  matter of seconds, much to Red Robin’s surprise. 

  It was then that Batman saw what else had arrived, who else had arrived. A small girl, knelt by Danny’s head, pouring something into his mouth. She turned to say something to Nightwing. He squinted. Was that Danny’s friend from University? 

  No sooner than he’d had the realization, she stood and surveyed the battle with a strategist's eye, tense and confident in her stance. She wore what he thought at first might have been light armor, but swiftly realized was just black cargo pants and a t-shirt. Despite this, she stepped away from Danny, throwing another few words over her shoulder at Nightwing before entering the fray. 

  He watched as she went up against one of the shapeless and shrieking beings of inky mist and fury, expecting her to be cut down in a moment, wanting to close his eyes but knowing somebody would have to write the report, he didn’t want it to have to be Nightwing. Instead of dying, though, she held a hand out towards it, fingers clawed, and twisted, closing her fist violently. The being crumpled and shrieked, an ungodly sound that reverberated and echoed unnaturally.

   She bared her teeth, and her outstretched arm tensed. It shrunk even further, the shrieking turning to a cacophony of agony. The sound rose to a fever pitch as it shattered apart, smoke and fog spilling out across the ground and flowing around her legs, climbing up and settling around her shoulders like a cloak, wisps of it curling around her limbs. She advanced. 

  Pitch black hair whipped around her face as she made her way through the battlefield, an indomitable opponent in this apparent battle of wills. Time grew fluid as he watched her turn the tide of a losing battle, all while ignoring the Bats entirely, singularly focused on her goal. Her skin was too pale, her hair too dark, her demeanor deadly calm, and he decided she was something inhuman, even if he couldn’t determine what given his state. 

  The battlefield quieted degree by degree, and the Bats retreated, gathering about Danny, who had stopped writhing, but hadn’t risen. It ended silently, the last being dissipating without a sound, and the girl stood still for a long moment. When she turned, she met the viking giant's gaze. A single nod from her, and he disappeared as well. 

  She returned to Danny’s side. 

  Timothy and Jason helped extricate Bruce from the rubble, and he leaned heavily on Jason as they hobbled slowly over to where the team was gathering. The girl had a single hand pressed to Danny’s chest, gaze intently focused on nothing they could see. She stood abruptly. 

 “He’s alright.” She said tonelessly, “The Veil has been sealed, here and elsewhere.” 

 Wonder Woman approached, looking much worse for wear but still in one piece, “Constantine and Zatanna both send word that their rifts have been closed. The battle is over and I propose we return to the Watchtower.” 

  Everybody agreed to that. The girl dutifully picked up Danny like he weighed nothing, and followed them silently. None of his children objected, infact they seemed familiar with her. They could discuss her presence during the debrief. She was powerful, no telling by what measure, so it was best to keep her close for now. 

  She didn't leave Danny’s bedside in the medical bay. The aftermath of a battle of that magnitude was massive, and the medical bay was overrun, so she faded easily into the chaos as she tucked herself against his cot and didn’t move throughout the entirety of it, just watching him closely. 

  “Her name is Mel,” Jason informed him, from where he appeared at his bedside, “She’s his English tutor, they’re in classes together, good friends. I knew she was a badass, but that was...,” he whistled a low tone, “that was a whole other level.” 

  —

  Mel ignored the formal summon to the debriefing meeting. It had been 26 hours, and everybody else had been healed one way or another, but Danny was still out, recovering but in no danger according to Zatanna. She took the cardstock and folded it, slid it in her pocket, and resumed watching Danny. It took balls to so blatantly ignore the Justice League, and Jason had to commend her for that, but it also meant B had made him go talk to her, cause he was apparently the one that had the best rapport with her. 

  “Look, I get that you’re keeping an eye out for him, but he’s alright, and the Justice League is getting all up in arms about you being here.” Jason finally explained to her. She stood up, and he thanked all of his lucky stars as he walked out of the room with her in tow. 

  “We don’t even know who she is!” Constantine shouted at someone as the pair walked into the meeting hall. 

  The silence was deafening as the doors slid shut. Jason glanced towards Batman, and he gestured for him to sit. He sat in his usual seat next to Nightwing. Mel took an empty seat without so much as a pause, hands folded neatly in her lap as she surveyed the table, waiting for something. The hall stayed terribly silent and Jason couldn’t keep the grin from creeping up on his face, always grateful for his choice in full coverage helmet. 

  Superman opened his mouth, probably to start off with something diplomatic and placating before Constantine opened his big mouth again. She cut him off instead. 

  “You all owe me.” She stated flatly, “Big time.” 

  To his left, Nightwing choked on a laugh. 

  “Excuse me?” Superman asked, brows drawing together in a baffled expression that was almost comical. Jason was going to review the hell out of this footage later. 

  “You owe me,” She enunciated, “For cleaning up your fucking mess. This is why we don’t poke the big Afterlife wasp nest, because getting stung fucking hurts, and pest control just wanted to take a nap.” 

  Superman had the decency to look mollified, even if he was being lectured by a five foot nothing college student. Jason decided on the spot that they were going to create a new folder in the mask footage hall of fame just for Mel. 

  “And how exactly, did you clean up that mess?” Zatanna interjected before Constantine could. 

  “Returned the spirits to their side of the veil, then sealed it back up.” She answered, which opened up about as many questions as it answered. 

  “Are you one of Phantom’s subjects?” Damian asked, surprising the table, but it was a good question when he thought about it. She had appeared to help Danny, and apparently had some experience with ghosts and the afterlife. 

  “No.” She didn’t elaborate. Watching the table get more and more frustrated by her lack of explanation would be more fun if Jason wasn’t also in the dark, he decided. 

  “What are you?” Constantine asked, despite Zatanna smacking him in the shoulder. 

  “Mechanical Engineering Major, and I have a midterm in two days, so if this meeting is wrapping up, I think I’ll see myself out.” She started to stand. 

  “We can’t let you do that,” Superman said, and Jason could see that even the golden boy was getting a little irritated. “We’re grateful for your assistance, but you’re still an unknown entity.” He explained carefully. 

  “I don’t plan on becoming known, so thanks but no thanks, I only stepped in to help a friend.” She retorted as easily as breathing, eyes growing dark as Constantine stood, words already spilling from his big mouth. 

  “Uh-uh, you don’t get to swoop in, change the tide of a ghost battle a little goth girl could only dream of, and promptly fuck back off!” God he was loud, and stupider than anybody gave him credit for. 

  “Don’t I?” Her voice vibrated with an inhuman quality, dangerous and barely restrained, and as she tilted her head to the side, Jason was reminded of a predator staring down prey. Her mismatched black and silver eyes almost glowed in the bright lights, and a chill ran up his spine. Apparently everybody else felt it too, a wave of fear rippling out across the table.

 Constantine at least knew when he had overstepped, falling into a grumbling silence, but the hint of triumph in his eyes told Jason that it had probably been his plan all along. On the other side of Nightwing, Batman balked in his chair. 

  “Okay, I’ll propose a compromise,” She said, shattering the tension with her blunt words, “Either let Phantom and the gaggle of Bats deal with me, or,” she thought a moment, “I actually don’t have an alternative, that’s your only option, take it or leave it.” Her grin was all sharp fangs. 

  “That defeats the point of providing an ultimatum,” Wonder Woman pointed out diplomatically. 

  “Got it in one,” Mel responded flippantly, and then narrowed her eyes at Wonder Woman, curious maybe, before returning her gaze to the rest of the table. “So what’s it going to be?” 

  “What’s stopping us from just keeping you here?” Flash spoke up. Sometimes Jason really questioned that man's supposed genius status, but he could be a good hero, and the question was genuine enough. 

  “Common sense, perhaps,” She replied with a shrug, “If I don’t want to be here, there’s truly not all that much you can do to keep me here. I’m only still here for Phantom.” 

  “You’re some sort of Realms being,” Constantine accused, brow furrowed as he looked at something only he could see. 

  “Not even close,” She was growing tired of the back and forth. “Listen, we can do this all night, but historically these sort of ordeals have minimal success, and I’d really rather keep all my fingernails, so let’s just skip all that.” A concerning sentence for another time he decided as she continued, “If the Ghost King called on me as an ally, do you really think I’m going to just turn around and attack the rest of you?” She didn’t let them answer, “No, that entirely defeats the point of saving your asses. It won’t happen again, that much I can promise.” 

  “And you,” She pointed a finger at Constantine, and her voice started the vibrate again, at a frequency that made Jason’s bones itch as a wave of dread spilled across the room like a fog, “If you ever allow this League to cause that sort of Rift in the Veil again, I will personally collect every little shard and fragment of your soul that you’ve sold and tether you to a circle of hell that doesn’t exist yet.” 

  With that, she stalked out of the room. They sat in silence for a moment before Jason let out an audible snort of laughter and walked out as well. Before the door even slid shut he heard the conversation burst into full swing. 

  Mel was on her way back to med bay, unsurprising, so he jogged to catch up with her. For her height, she was fast, and terrifyingly silent. He looked over at her, and saw that tendrils of her hair were flicking back and forth, like a bundle of cat tails, weird. 

  “I really do have a midterm the day after tomorrow,” She finally said, and he restrained his snort. “Intro to Thermo, it’s gonna kill me,” 

  “Danny would say it’s not a problem for him,” Jason started.  

  “Cause he’s already dead,” She finished and cracked a smile, “Yeah I’m not that lucky, just dead on the inside.” 

  They stopped in front of the Med bay and she turned her head as Jason punched in a code and the door slid open. 

  “Damn, and I thought we could be the three musketeers of half dead folks,” He said as they walked in. 

  “Three Stooges maybe,” Danny mumbled, and Mel’s smile turned into a grin as she took quick steps to his bedside, where he was already sitting up, upon seeing that he was alright though, she launched swiftly into shouting. 

  “Next time call me before you do the stupid shit, not as you’re actively re-dying,” She snapped, and Danny just looked over at Jason like this was the most normal thing in the world, “No, mírame, you little shit! You can’t just go do that! I was taking a nap, I only had time to grab one of my knives! Uno! I know I said I’m for emergencias pero llamame primero por el amor de dios!!” 

  Danny just grinned at her, and she let out a long suffering sigh. 

  “I’m glad you’re not fully dead, but I might just kill you myself, you absolute bastard.” 

  “Well now that the reunion is over, can we get the whole squad back to the cave so we can play twenty questions with your friend here, Danno?” Jason asked. He was going to absolutely cherish this days video feed for years to come, comedy gold. He’d submit it to a youtube channel if it weren’t classified. Mel busting out the Spanish hadn’t been on his bingo card, but his chest ached from keeping his laughter to himself, and possibly the cracked ribs. 

  “Let’s go,” 

—

  Mel had settled into the comfy chair in front of the batcomputer, somehow, and nobody had evicted her so she decided she was probably fine. The Batcave wasn't a terrible place, a little dark and probably haunted, but not nearly the worst place she had spent time. 

  She tucked one leg beneath her body, getting comfortable as the rest of the Bats found themselves seats in less and less suitable places, like Nightwing, who perched on a surprisingly stable rolling cart. 

  “So, 20 questions, go,” She started, wanting to get it over with sooner rather than later. She knew about Batman’s whole no meta’s in Gotham thing, which Danny told her was more for the safety of the city than a hard and fast rule. 

  “Okay, so, actually no,” Danny argued immediately, “They can ask relevant questions,” He specified, and the girl in the purple suit, Spoiler, groaned. “And you can reserve the right not to answer,” He added, which Batman Hn’d at but didn't immediately refute. 

  “Are you a ghost?” The boy in the red suit and black cowl, Red Robin, jumped at the chance to ask a question and the rest of the bats, who had opened their mouths, presumably to ask questions of their own, went silent.

  “I don't know, am I?” She retorted, baring fangs just for the sake of it, but Danny shot her a glare and she relented, no point in being needlessly combative when she was trying to prove she wasn't a threat. “No. I'm not.” 

  “What are you?” The small one, Sword Robin asked, tone frostier than she expected of a kid his size. She could respect the guts, but the question irked her. 

  “Ask in a nicer way and I might just tell you,” She said, narrowing her eyes at the kid. Keeping her powers reigned in could be difficult in the best of times, but the last two days had it itching beneath her skin. She'd thought letting it out at such a magnitude would exhaust her, and it had, for a bit, but now it wanted to run wild again, wanted to wreak havoc and shred everything in its path. 

  “What is the range of your power set?” Signal asked, and she had to give him credit for that, at least he seemed to know what he was doing? Meta to meta in a way. She wasn't necessarily a meta, but they didn't need to know that. 

  “That’s a complicated question,” She said and hummed thoughtfully, ignoring the way her power thrummed in her chest, begging her to release it. Maybe this had been a mistake. But she couldn't find it in herself to abandon her friend. Couldn't lose him too. “Thematically, they're all generally related. I'm not endlessly powerful, it's a limited set of abilities, each with limited strength. I'm not Danny, picking up a new power every other week,” 

  “And what is this set of abilities?” Red Robin asked while Nightwing mouthed ‘thematically related?’ at Hood. 

  “Currently Irrelevant.” 

  Clearly none of them particularly liked this answer, and off to her right Danny sighed. 

  “Mel, come on, you did go and absolutely solo a battle the Justice League was losing, you don't have to give them your entire dossier but a little explanation would be nice,” He pointed out, giving her the puppy dog eyes. Fuck, why was it always the puppy dog eyes. 

  She groaned and ran a hand through her hair, collecting herself and trying to find a way to explain it that didn't sound insane. It was the bats, they'd probably heard weirder, but that didn't console her much. 

  “What you saw out there, that was a mixture of my control over ectoplasm and spirit entities.” She finally said, and Danny grinned smugly at her, that little shit. “I’m used to bringing spirits across the Veil, so I can send them back as well, although doing it for those spirits was…a process, to say the least.” 

  “So you have some similar powers to Phantom,” Nightwing said. 

  “Surface level, sure, let's say that,”  She acquiesced, for their sake, “But we operate with fundamentally different methods. Phantom is partially a being of the Infinite Realms, I’m not.” 

  “I will repeat my earlier question,” Sword Robin spoke up again, tone only a fraction warmer than it had been before, but it was still progress, “What are you?” 

  “Human,” It was true, mostly, and as much as she'd give them. 

  “Human adjacent,” Danny corrected, and Mel shot him a glare as he just grinned back at her. What the fuck was he doing? 

  “Adjacent?” Nightwing echoed as she continued to glare at Danny, wondering if it would be an abuse of power to command him to shut up for the rest of the conversation. 

  “Red is just gonna stalk you and find out anyways,” He said with a shrug, and she wondered if her eye was twitching, it felt like it was. “It’s a love language, I promise, and I told you you were adoption bait when you got here.”

  “Absolutely not. I am not cut out for the hero vigilante gig, and you know that better than anyone, Danny.” Her tone got deadly serious, and she felt emotion well up and thrum in her vocal chords, so she promptly shut her mouth. Didn’t want to bring down the cave around them. 

  “Your performance would indicate otherwise.” Sword Robin was chatty today, and chilly as ever, “Why do you restrict your skillset to struggling through a college degree?” 

  Her focus snapped to the small Robin. Despite the suit and stance and demeanor, he couldn’t even be out of middle school. Even the youngest at camp had never been that young. 

  “Maybe because child soldiers never get a happy ending,” She said tonelessly, caging her snarl in her chest and maintaining her emotional distance the best that she could, by detaching from the situation and feeling her fingertips go numb, her tongue heavy in her mouth and her voice too loud in her own ears. She was familiar with their kind, and while they were just different enough, her heart still ached in her chest. 

  “Sorcerer?” A girl in a full black suit asked, Orphan, she thought, a terrible name, and horribly broad for their line of work. 

  “That depends on your definition of Sorcerer, and Magic. Instead of getting into that I’ll clarify that yes, my abilities are defined by my bloodline, and no, I do not practice magic. I’m not a witch, wizard, enchantress, or any other variation either.” Mel’s tone remained flat, but she was surprised that Hood hadn’t asked any questions yet. Ignoring that he’d probably have questions later, she focused back on the conversation. 

  “There was another man,” Batman’s gravelly voice spoke up, although it wasn’t a question, just a statement. She waited. “Who is he?” 

  “He is a ghost,” She answered, not sure whether or not to be grateful for the change of topic or worried that she was being interrogated by Batman. “He serves as an ally of mine when needed, but otherwise he stays in Valhalla.” 

  Danny looked surprised by this information and looked to her with a questioning gaze. Sometimes she forgot just how much information she kept to herself. 

  “Valhalla’s real?” Nightwing piped up, tone almost comically shocked. 

  “Most afterlives are, the Infinite Realms are, afterall, by definition, infinite. You work with the Ghost King, I thought you would have known that.” She narrowed her eyes at him just slightly, and he looked affronted. 

  “It never came up,” Danny mentioned in defense of his blue suited friend. She let it go. 

  “Do you have a place to stay?” That was a question she had been two parts dreading and one part expecting, although not directly from Batman himself. She stared at him. 

  “Yes. Gotham University.” She realized her tone had gotten clipped but couldn’t find it in herself to care. “Track me down, look me up, I don’t care, according to Danny I can’t stop you, but I assure you I need nothing from you, any of you.” Danny looked a bit sad, but he knew he didn’t count in that statement, just being dramatic. She stood from the Batcomputer chair. “If you need my brand of help, don’t waste time finding me. I’ll already know. Your problems are all frustratingly loud.” 

  With that, she glanced at Danny one last time before stalking across the catwalk to the elevator and punching the button. It slid open and she stepped inside. She didn’t bother waiting for it to rise, just disappeared and set a course back to her shitty University dorm room.