#Fully dead meets half ghost

[minty364]

DPXDC Prompt #91

Danny was dimension hopping, his original dimension was still there but after his parents disowned him when they found out it wasn’t safe anymore especially with the GIW stepping up their game. Danny just wanted to find a dimension where he could live peacefully after all he was part human and while he loves the infinite realms it wasn’t sustainable in the long run to his human half. He finally finds one where the GIW doesn’t exist at all, but the weird part is there are actual superheroes here. The weirder part is his counterpart in this dimension is part of the Justice League! The bad part is it seems in this dimension the portal fully killed him so how was he supposed to explain to his counterpart that he was half dead.

[deadsetobsessions]

Danny laid across his throne, legs planted across the left arm of the ornate chair and back pressed uncomfortably against the right.

"Listen," Danny started, letting his head flop to the side as he glared at a hovering Observant. "This meeting has wasted enough of my time. You all have been arguing for hours and that's without Clockwork slowing things down."

"Your Majesty, this is a matter of great importance. Belial means to overthrow and rule my-our world!"

"I am distinctly aware aware of that," Ancients, Danny couldn't wait to go home and rid himself of the formal speech he'd had to adopt in order to be taken seriously. Well, as seriously as he cared to be taken when sprawled across his throne instead of sitting on it intimidatingly or something. He slowly placed his gaze on the suddenly still demon sitting across from him. "Yet you've proposed fifteen different plans that were all unviable for whatever reasons you've cooked up. Your conclusion is that I must step in. Does your world not have heroes to take care of it?"

The demon- another lord of hell from this Belial’s universe- fell silent.

“Ah. But if they do, they would also take care of you.”

“No- no, that’s not-”

Danny allowed his voice to drop to the artic freeze he knew his core was capable of. "I opened these these doors to allow all of you to present me with reasonable concerns regarding your own universes and realms. What is not on the table for discussion is your petty politics. Do you think I am unaware of your intentions in tattling to me? That I do not know you are trying to use me to further your own position?"

"Your Majesty, I-" The demon growled out, fear slowly coating its expression.

"It no longer amuses me. You think that I am young and easy to manipulate." Danny froze the demon to its chair. It tried to break free, but Danny isn't the High King of the Infinite Realms for nothing. "Bring to me a miserable problem like this ever again, one that could be easily solved if you used even a smidgen of your intelligence, and you will find exactly how I tore Pariah Dark from his throne."

Not that Danny knew how he did it either, he just did it.

"Yes, Your Majesty. My-my apologies."

The room is dead (Danny patted himself on the back for the pun) silent. Some of the Ancients looked bored, like Clockwork who knew Danny would never hurt them, but everyone else looked close to crying. He held eye contact with the demon until it looked away.

When Danny settled back into the throne and allowed his ice to dissipate, the room let out a collective sigh of relief.

"The next item on the agenda is another demon, by the name of Trigon." Clockwork announced, the large piece of paper comically huge next to his currently toddler-like body.

"Another?"

He flicked an amused look at the previous demon, who kept his trap firmly shut.

"He is attempting to take over multiple worlds in an attempt to conquer the universe. I had thought you would be interested in this one, Your Majesty, as he plans to begin with Earth 135."

Danny stilled. That was his Earth. His haunt.

"Does he know of the Realms?"

"Vaguely, I believe."

"Then he should know the rules. I will wait to see if my Earth's heroes are capable to step to the task."

Danny would be a hypocrite if he doesn’t let the heroes of his Earth try first, even if he is one of those heroes.

"Of course," Clockwork grinned at him, fully aware of the shit Danny's about to stir back home. Ah, the wonders of being able to influence the time stream. Perhaps the young Ghost King will finally get some friends, and maybe get those pesky speedsters to stop making his jobs so hard. Cujo yipped at Danny as the King begrudgingly moved onto the next topic.

——

Raven shuddered as she watched the footage of her "brothers" laughing while steering their human "meatbags" around. She turned back to the giant circle of donated blood and herb filled candles.

“This is a nuclear option, don’t you think?” Green Arrow mumbled, clearly not against it by the half hearted way he’d said it. The Star City billionaire nursed his cracked ribs.

“No,” she floated over to where Zatanna and Constantine kneeled, trying to see if they needed help with the inscriptions. “Trigon is coming soon, and my brothers will no doubt find their way here in a moment. We are out of time.”

“Yeah. Plus, we don’t want Raven to be turned into a portal.” Garfield piped up, switching animal forms rapidly.

“No one dies.” Red Robin muttered. His wrist computer was open, monitoring the surroundings of the open field they found themselves uneasily occupying. Batman grunted in affirmation, eyeing the tree line. Every hero except the magical ones were on look out, preparing themselves for one more battle against the two demons that were trying to take Raven and force her into becoming a portal.

“Hey guys, we might want to hurrythisupbecausethey’re kind of close!” Impulse slammed into the room.

“Done.” Zatanna got up, motioning for everyone to step back. In Superman’s case, he floated back.

“Too bad you won’t get to use it,” a voice drawled, dripping with malice and the screams of a thousand souls.

“Come now, little sister. Why fight fate? Be grateful father has deigned to spare you. If not for your dirty blood being useful, you would be dead, little sister. Give up, before our patience runs out alongside the lives of your little pets.” Another, mocking, voice gleefully rumbled.

Raven would rather gouge out her own heart than to claim these two as any type of family.

“You won’t touch them.” Raven snarled, powers rising even as the marks on her body burned a painful red.

“Buy us some time!”

With that, the group of beaten and battered heroes rose to clash against just two demons, for a chance to save their world.

——

The Circle crackled. Danny felt a tug on his core. He followed the thread of the summoning. Oh. It was his haunt. Earth 135. Hm. It tasted of blood. Desperation? A hint of anticipation. Oh, an overload of fear. Could use some more hope, but Danny understood that it was rather hard to season these kinds of summonings with hope.

“Stop.” Danny commanded, straightening in his chair.

“Sire, we have more-”

“There is an issue with my haunt,” with that, he followed the summons.

——

“Ugh,” was the first thing everybody on the frozen battlefield heard. The demons had smacked away many of the heroes, but they all turned as one when the circle lit up a bright green. “Why do you people always use blood? I’m dead, I don’t need any more iron!”

A boy

Raven’s eldest brother let out a hideous rumble. “You fools tried to summon the king, and you got a dead boy. And now, you’ve doomed another.”

Constantine looked resigned, and regretful. “I am so, so sorry,” he whispered. It was just a kid. John might be a lot of things, but even he found summoning dead kids for demons to devour was just a step too far. “Shite, we got the wrong fucking-”

“Hey, man, that’s rude,” the boy snapped back, waving John off.

“Brother, kill the whelp.”

“I vote on not killing the whelp. Not killing at all, really,” the boy stepped out of the massive blood circle, wrinkling his nose at the drying stains.

“This is not one of your pesky democracies, fool.”

In response, the demons lunged at him, ignoring the screams of the surrounding heroes as they shoved their human arms through the boy’s stomach.

“So,” the boy continues, “I heard your dad was after my haunt?”

“Your haunt, whelp? This earth shall be his! And through him, ours!” Raven slammed against the demons with her power, shadows enlarging and tossing them away from the unharmed… ghost boy?

“Is it?”

——

Wow, these demons are so rude. Normally, it’d be a breath of fresh air compared to the stuffy halls of his throne room. But since they’re attacking his haunt…

“Thanks. You’re… Raven, right?”

Raven nodded, arms outstretched in concentration as she held her brothers back.

“You have to go. We’re- we’re sorry you got pulled into this, but it’s not safe here.”

“Eh. It’s cool. You don’t have to do that anymore, by the way.” Danny stepped forward once more, green skin shifting and gliding as everything about him sharpened. He flew at the demons piloting the human shells, catching them around the necks and dragging the demons out of their stolen bodies. The threw them even further away as he floated in the air, a beacon of green and white. Raven thought it looked like hope.

“My name is Phantom, the High King of the Infinite Realms,” let it be known that Danny always had an eye for dramatic entrances. He shifted into something more off, more eldritch, more kingly. The crown flared to life above his head. “You have invaded my haunt. You have challenged me. What do you plead?”

“You’re not-” they said.

“Wrong answer,” Danny flew at them once more, body contorting into something undeniably terrorizing, his maw unhinging and crunching down on the demons with a sound that made the present heroes cringe.

“Ugh,” Danny grunted, turning back and floating peacefully to the group of heroes- Tucker and Sam would be so stoked he met Wonder Woman and Batman!- and chewed rapidly. He shifted back into his normal form. “Eating demons always leaves me with indigestion. And their bones get everywhere up in my teeth!” Danny pulled out a giant femur looking bone from his mouth, despite it not logically fitting in there.

“Right. No eating demons, solid life advice.” Red Robin said.

“Right? So, you’re Raven! It’s nice to meet you! Think you can summon your dear ol’ dad for me?”

“But we summoned you to stop Trigon, not help him come here.” Superman said, frowning.

“One! That summoning circle is wack. Those things you piled up as offerings? Mid. Also, if you thought you could control me with those terribly written spells, you’re dead wrong. And yes, I am making puns about death.” Danny jabs an aggressive finger towards the shabby circle.

“Have you considered that maybe not every being that can be summoned wants a shit ton of useless blood? Like what if I wanted food? And two, how am I supposed to beat up Trigon if he’s still stuck in the prison realm?”

“I have a cup of coffee,” Nightwing offered. “Kid Flash could probably get you food, right?”

“Yep, surethinganythingyouwantyourMajesty.”

“You wouldn’t catch me alive accepting food from a speedster. You people fuck up the timelines so much,” Danny grumbled, crunching on the last of Raven’s brothers. Raven thought she should probably sit down.

“But you’re dead.” Batman said, something about his voice catching the sharp attention of his protégés who all started making cutting motions at him.

“Fair,” Danny pointed at him, grinning. “I’ll take two pizza and Nightwing’s coffee as payment for taking care of your little demon overlord problem. Raven, summon your dad.”

——

Didn’t much like the characterization of this piece but it’s been in my drafts for a while and I needed it out

[bodybaggage]

Monthly Phantom Check Up

Frostbite, Danny’s overly enthusiastic yeti doctor, shows up at the Watchtower for a surprise check-up, and things get awkward fast.

———

The Watchtower was in chaos. It wasn’t a typical day of chaos—no alien invasions or time-traveling villains—but something far more uncomfortable. Frostbite, Danny Phantom’s towering Yeti doctor and self-proclaimed “Master of Ghost Medicine,” had arrived unannounced. His massive, fur-covered frame loomed in the main meeting room as he carefully unpacked a series of glowing, intimidating medical instruments.

Superman leaned over to Wonder Woman, voice low. “Is this... normal?”

Wonder Woman’s brow furrowed in thought. “I don’t think this falls under the usual protocol for supernatural beings.”

Across the room, Danny Phantom stood in all his half-dead glory—or rather, slouched in defeat, wearing a hoodie that seemed far too large for his ghostly frame. He was clearly trying to shrink away from the entire situation, one pale hand covering his face in mortification.

“Frostbite,” Danny hissed in a hushed whisper, “you couldn’t have waited until we got back to the Ghost Zone?”

Frostbite beamed, oblivious to Danny’s pleading. “Nonsense, Great One! Your health is of utmost importance, and I detected a slight imbalance in your ectoplasmic core. It must be addressed immediately!”

Batman stood against the wall, eyes narrowing as he watched the scene unfold. “Ectoplasmic core?”

Frostbite nodded solemnly as he began to prepare an absurdly long, glowing probe. “Indeed, Batman. The Great One is half-ghost, and thus, his core requires regular maintenance. There are many nuances to his biology that need tending to.”

Danny groaned. “Oh, Ancients, kill me now…”

The Justice League—gathered for what they thought was going to be a strategy meeting—could only look on in awkward silence. Aquaman coughed and pretended to adjust his trident. Green Lantern pulled up a holographic projection of the solar system, which he stared at intensely despite not needing to. Flash, of course, was barely containing his laughter, lips twitching every time Frostbite said something ridiculous.

“Now,” Frostbite continued, holding up a glowing vial of something green and gooey, “the first concern is the ectoplasm imbalance. Too much exposure to the Ghost Zone can cause buildup, which leads to... ah, let’s say, irregularities.”

Superman cleared his throat. “Irregularities?”

Frostbite nodded gravely. “Yes. In the human digestive system, it might be compared to... indigestion. But in ghosts, it manifests as random phasing, ectoplasmic leakage, and occasional transformation into a much more terrifying version of oneself.”

Superman blinked. “That sounds... worse than indigestion.”

“Oh, much worse!” Frostbite said brightly, not catching the sarcasm. “Especially during ghost puberty. It’s when the ghost’s core is developing at its most volatile stage.”

Danny’s entire face turned bright red. “Frostbite! Seriously?!”

“Ghost... puberty?” Batman echoed, voice laced with what could only be described as grim fascination.

“Indeed!” Frostbite said, now fully in doctor mode. “The Great One is well past that stage, but it’s important to note that ghost puberty can last several decades for some. Phantom’s transformations would have been wildly unpredictable for years, often triggered by emotional stress or large quantities of fast food.”

Flash actually lost it at that, letting out a snort and quickly covering his mouth. “Sorry, sorry! Just—did you say fast food?”

Danny rubbed his temples. “Yes. I went through my ‘ghost puberty’ eating burgers and stressing about math tests. Can we move on?”

Frostbite chuckled warmly. “Ah, yes. The human world does have its unique challenges for the Great One. Now, the next matter—”

“There’s more?” Danny wailed, half considering flying straight through the floor and never coming back.

“Oh, yes!” Frostbite said with far too much enthusiasm. He turned to the League. “His dual nature also means his ghost half sometimes conflicts with his human immune system. It’s a fascinating process! For example, Danny can phase through objects, but if he catches a human cold, it throws his phasing abilities off and he might accidentally phase into a wall and get stuck.”

The room went silent.

Batman stared at Danny. “You’ve... phased into a wall?”

Danny gritted his teeth, wishing for the sweet release of invisibility. “I was twelve, okay? And yes, I got stuck. It was fine.”

“Mostly fine,” Frostbite corrected, waving around a spectral thermometer. “There was that one time we had to extract you from a particularly thick brick wall in Amity Park. Took several hours.”

Wonder Woman, who had remained silent up until this point, exchanged a concerned glance with Superman. “Is this something we should... prepare for?”

Danny shot them both an exasperated look. “No. I’m not going to phase into the Watchtower’s walls. Probably.”

“Unless his ectoplasmic levels are low,” Frostbite added cheerfully. “Which is why this check-up is vital!”

As Frostbite pulled out what looked suspiciously like a ghost-themed blood pressure cuff, Danny gave up. “I’m going to die—again.”

Flash wiped away a tear of laughter, his shoulders still shaking. “This is the best day of my life. I didn’t know ghost puberty was a thing.”

“I’ll send you my research papers,” Frostbite said kindly. “There’s a great deal of fascinating biology involved!”

Danny, ignoring everyone, shot a glare at Batman, who was watching all this with far too much interest. “Don’t even think about adding this to my file.”

Batman didn’t respond, though his fingers twitched ever so slightly toward his utility belt.

Frostbite, oblivious to the ongoing awkwardness, finished prepping his tools. “Now, Great One, if you could just sit still. This next part involves extracting ectoplasmic residue from your pores—”

“I’m phasing through the floor,” Danny muttered, promptly sinking halfway through the Watchtower’s pristine floor, only his head remaining visible. “See you guys never.”

The Justice League stood in stunned silence as Frostbite packed away his tools with a serene smile.

“Very well,” Frostbite said. “I’ll schedule the next check-up for next month. Goodbye, Justice League!”

And with that, the massive Yeti doctor vanished through a portal, leaving the League standing there, trying to make sense of what they had just witnessed.

Superman finally turned to Danny, whose head was still poking out of the floor.

“Danny... you okay?”

Danny didn’t respond, choosing instead to fully disappear beneath the floor.

Flash wheezed. “I love that kid.”

[i-am-hungry-24-7]

[I only have 30 pounds in my bank account] - Mafia!TF141*F!Reader

Summary: You sigh when it's the fifth time someone fights in your poor tea shop this month. You just open it two months ago, in an area ruled by mafia called '141'. Maybe you should find their boss and give them money or what to stop the bullshit keeps happening in your shop. (well, here they come)

Mafia!TF141*F!Reader, but only Soap and Ghost in this chapter unless I extend this

chapter 2

You’re just trying to fulfill your dream, plus survive with the money you earn with your shop, but you start questioning if this is a good idea, maybe you should just listen to your friend and be a 9-5 worker, sitting in front of a laptop the whole day.

This isn’t a good location to open a tea shop, your little shop will rather become a place for dealing drugs or getting extorted in the first month. The area is fully ruled by the mafia, hence the cops couldn’t do anything here, but it makes the rent extremely low, which you’re able to afford with money you saved during school, and have a tiny shop that can barely squeeze in more than 8 people.

Looking at the scene playing in your shop for the fifth time this month, you stare at the people fighting and break the cup with dead eyes. You want to shout, to kick these guys' ass out of here or hit them with your broom, yet you glance at their muscles and the knives in their hand –  probably killing every day as work out, to your opposite one because you slump onto the bed once you close the shop and go upstairs, you choose to remain silent as the yelling only become louder.

Maybe you should find the mafia boss or some henchmen and give them half of your income to prevent the mayhem, but first, you don’t even know who actually rules this fucking place; second, you doubt they will have interest in your skimpy bank account. The only information you have is the mafia ruling here called ‘141’, since it’s an open secret to residents here.

“What are ye arseholes doin’?”

Fuck, here comes another one, or two as you spot the man with a balaclava behind the mohawk man who's speaking. They are tall, muscular and built like bricks. Grown like giraffes either, you complement when you need to crook your neck up to look at them stepping into your shop as if it's their backyard.

but the chaos halts immediately as you watch your ‘customers’ seem shocked with terror at the men.

You pretend you’re deaf and attempt to bury yourself in your counter. Please don’t kill me I didn’t hear a goddamn word and didn’t see you threatening them. You recite your defense as you scrub at the same tea cup till the distinct accent from the mohawk man catches you off guard that you almost drop it.

“I guess it’s already clean, lass.” A smirk appears on his face as he points at the cup.

“Wh– what do you want?” 

“Calm down, jus’ want te have some tea.”

“I only have 30 pounds in my bank account.”

“We’re just sayin’ we want tea.” The taller man speaks for the first time after coming in, and it startles you but forces your brain to function at the same time.

Ah, they aren’t here for money. You finally get what they’re talking about.

“Isn’t it supposed te be a tea shop here? One cup for him, and give me a cup of coffee.”

“Oh, of course. What kind of tea would you like, Sir?” You shift slightly to meet the other man’s eyes, and you want to shiver under his cold eyes.

“Just give him whatever you recommend.” 

They round over the glass scattering on the floor and take a seat closest to your counter after you nod at them.

While boiling the water, you sneak a glimpse at them, and the shape of guns covered by their clothes are unignorable as you scold yourself to stop looking at them, or the bigger guy might stab your eyes, but you still curse whole-heartedly in mind when the Scottish accent man meet your eyes with his azure ones and shines you a grin.

Should just quit staring, or you shouldn’t open this shop at all. Regretting your decisions as you turn back and focus back on making their drink, you’re able to recognize them staring at you from the periphery of your vision. Is it too late to kneel down and beg for your life right now?

You still perfectly make their orders and bring them the drinks, even though you’re sweating internally. At least don’t mess it up, and your confidence in your tea and coffee isn’t born from nothing, as you notice the man with the skull balaclava takes a sip first, then raises his eyebrow, added with a side glance at you.

“Haven’t seen him amazed by tea in years, it must be very good.” The mohawk man whistles as he sips at his coffee and gives an approving nod too.

“Thank you…” Your ego shouldn’t be boosted by mafias, but you still relax a bit knowing you didn't screwed up.

“When did ye open ‘is shop?” The man asks while the other continues drinking his tea, but seemingly taking in the conversation too.

“About two months ago."

"That’s why we didn't know about it before…” He taps at the table twice before shooting you another question “Got blokes like those in yer shop earlier often?”

Death sentence is served to your front, that’s what you think you hear. Is it better to say yes or no? Judging by the fact those people are their minions, you’re not sure if saying yes is indicating they haven’t controlled them appropriately.

“Tell us the truth” 

“Yeah, it’s the fifth time this month.” Swallowing, you confirm. Lies aren’t meaningful, and surely they’re able to pierce any veil with those scrutinizing stares and keen minds.

You watch them sharing a glance, and Soap takes out a pen along with a piece of paper, and starts scribbling on it.

“Here, call this number when you run in trouble, aye?" He shoves the paper into your grasp “I’m Soap, call him Ghost.”

"It’s a nice shop, we’ll come back soon.”

Your little shop drops into peace again as your customers leave, and you gaze at the generous tip lying on your counter, to the paper in your palm.

A number is written on it, with a big badge of ‘141’ beside it.

Oh shit, so your shop just became the most far-flung mafia’s property without you knowing.

[jonivngel]

𝐠𝐮𝐢𝐥𝐭𝐲 𝐚𝐬 𝐬𝐢𝐧. (𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐫𝐞𝐞.)

𝐬𝐮𝐠𝐮𝐫𝐮 𝐠𝐞𝐭𝐨 𝐱 𝐟𝐞𝐦! 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐱 𝐬𝐚𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐮 𝐠𝐨𝐣𝐨

part 1: sharing is caring; part 2: dinner; part 3: devotion.

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲:

"So you made dinner that Friday, set up a table for two, candles, and your favorite silver cutlery, and dressed in a pretty satin dress with a low back. The evening would be a little too perfect considering Suguru wouldn't be there..."

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 6,603

𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭: 18+ ONLY, NSFW! CONTENT, MDNI, infidelity, unprotected sex, cucking (just a lil), polyamory, threesomes, drunk sex, a bit of degradation, praise kink kinda, oral (male on male and male on female), mxmxf sex, mxf penetration, overstimulation, edging, bath sex, kitchen sex, exhibitionism, just overall filth ngl, satosugu is bisexual so gay stuff, fluffy at the end (q up another warning for my sloppy writing lowk)

a/n: hope you enjoy... (part 2 is still my fav but this ain't half as bad ngl). it was supposed to have more plot, but it doesn't because my mind has been reduced to nothing but filth.... my apologies. also sorry for taking so long uni has me dead fr.

𝐝𝐞𝐯𝐨𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧.

The ‘dinners’, as you began calling them, became a regular thing.

Every Friday, like clockwork, Satoru would text Suguru the name of the restaurant and the time at which you were set to meet. Suguru would ask if you were willing to, to which you always said yes. It was seemingly a one-sided arrangement, he wanted Satoru and you wanted him. A messy conundrum that had you stressing about how long it was going to last and what the outcome would be.

Your relationship with Suguru certainly wasn't the same. The atmosphere assumed a lingering tension caused by a passing thought or mention of Satoru, the sweet scent of his skin remaining infused into your bedsheets, your hair, your clothes... He became a ghost, haunting you day and night until you'd meet again and all your worries would disappear with the scalding feeling of his fingertips exploring every dip and bump of your body. He knew how to make sure you wouldn't forget what it felt like to be had by him, to be so helplessly enchanted by pleasure that nothing else mattered.

It made your head muddled with jealousy conflicting with the growing affection for the shared time between the three of you. It was sinful and depraved, the raw need consuming you entirely until you surrendered fully every time you'd spend the night with them. Satoru became a habit. He became someone to you and you were slowly losing the ability to view him as the other.

He wasn't just someone Suguru convinced you to bring to your bed. It showed in little moments, words of endearment, the way your name would drip from his lips like honey. He was sweet to you. He'd look at you with his beautiful tranquil eyes and your skin would set ablaze with a burning need to feel him deeper, to connect, to get lost in him. You'd forget Suguru was even there. It was a thrill, a newfound nuance to the relationship you three shared. Because in moments like that, when Satoru would kiss you and touch you and look at you with pure devotion, you felt like he didn't care only for Suguru, but for you too.

It scared you, though. How intensely you began feeling for him, how he'd appear in your thoughts during a moment of silence while you washed dishes or did laundry, like it was so mundane, just a thing to be thought about. You would catch yourself remembering the way it felt to be under that intense gaze and you'd scold yourself. You shouldn't be thinking about him, you'd tell yourself, Suguru cheated on you with him, why would you think about him like that?

Then you'd get pissed at yourself because you've gone through the motions a thousand times, your thoughts were looping in circles. He isn't the other - he is, though - but why would he be so sweet… - but, but and but. Over and over again, it drove you insane. And you knew it wasn't like that, that Suguru didn't just cheat mindlessly. He loved you both, and you would've been fine with it had it not been for the nagging feeling of what someone else might think if they found out…

That's why you were terrified beyond words when Suguru suggested you meet Satoru alone.

“I'm sorry, honey,” he sighed, holding your face in his hands and kissing you so sweetly, disarming you of all the bitter words on the tip of your tongue, “I have an important meeting this Friday, it can't be helped.”

Your stomach twisted at the thought. You hadn't been alone in the same room with Satoru, let alone slept with him. Was that what Suguru expected to happen? Why couldn't you simply cancel? Then again, you didn't want Satoru to get the message that you didn't enjoy the time he spent with the two of you… Because you did enjoy it. Thoroughly.

“Okay,” you sighed, tugging on his shirt to bring him closer, his heat warming you to your core, “I'll make him dinner, it's the least I can do to apologize for changing plans. Plus he always takes us out.”

Suguru's smile made your heart skip a beat. “That's a beautiful idea. So sweet. Thank you, baby.” He kissed you again and you smiled, glad that he was okay with it. Not only okay, he seemed happy.

So you made dinner that Friday, set up a table for two, candles, and your favorite silver cutlery, and dressed in a pretty satin dress with a low back. The evening was going to be a little too perfect considering Suguru wasn't going to be there. But if the conversation led you to discuss how you've been feeling about the entire situation, the atmosphere would be at ease with the home-cooked candle-lit dinner.

You finished setting everything up about an hour before he arrived and had been on the edge of your seat ever since. The minutes were passing so slowly, your hands fidgeting with the satin pooling in your lap while you checked eagerly on the time every few minutes. You were secretly hoping he'd be a little late so you'd have more time to mentally prepare yourself. Your hopes were not fulfilled, however, because he showed up right on time, the doorbell startling you and making you jump off the couch.

Opening the door you were met with the sight of Satoru dressed in a white shirt and black pants, white hair fluffy and messy just the way you liked it. His eyes peered at you over the rim of his glasses perched on the tip of his nose, taking you in with the same intensity you’ve grown to revel in. He held a beautiful bouquet of deep purple hydrangeas in one hand and a bottle of pricey champagne in the other.

Your stomach fluttered in delightful excitement, “Hi,” you smiled and let him get in through the door, “Welcome, Satoru.”

He smiled back, the sly smile that told you he was having the time of his life, “Hey,” his voice was smooth, husky, a lilting cadence that made your skin tingle with anticipation. He bent down as he handed you the flowers, warm breath tickling past your ear when he pressed a chaste kiss to your cheek. The gentle nature of the action had you wanting to jump out of your skin because it didn't feel nearly enough of what you needed from him. His scent invaded your senses, drowning out all else as you reveled in the sweetness of vanilla and cinnamon you’ve come to love so much.

Then you realized that moments ago you were stressing about him, about this, and yet here he was, and all your mind and body did was crave his touch.

You were in for a rude awakening by the end of the night, it seemed.

“Thank you, ‘Toru…” you blushed and swiftly showed him to the dining room, which was divided from the kitchen only by a long kitchen island. You took the bottle from him to put in some ice and let him take his seat at the head of the table, which was usually Suguru's seat, but that's what he gets for leaving you alone.

“So, how are you, sweetie?” He asked, crossing his long legs and giving you a once-over, eyes as shameless as ever while they drank you in. His smile only seemed to grow wider.

Your heart started beating faster in an instant once you turned around to plate the food, unable to look at the mischievous glint in his eyes as they devoured you entirely. You were aware that cooking this man dinner and dressing in one of your prettiest dresses was a bold move, a calculated one at that. You were just afraid that you'd let his intoxicating energy get the best of you before you even managed to finish your meal.

“I'm doing well,” you sigh, “Suguru pissed me off cus’ he said he couldn't be with us tonight. Other than that I'm great.”

Satoru chuckled, his chair scraping the floor slightly when he stood up and made his way over to you. “It's okay,” he muttered, appearing next to you, paying close attention to the way your fingers worked skillfully as they arranged the food, “I'll appreciate you for the both of us tonight.”

Was he even aware of the way his words sounded? They made your cheeks flush with the deepest crimson color, your fingers cramping up suddenly and almost making you mess up the food arrangement.

You let out a breathy laugh, nervous with him standing so close and watching you prepare the food so intently, “Thank you, but don't feel like you have to make up for it on his behalf.”

He hummed in response, “Should I take the salad and champagne to the table?”

You nodded and thanked him, finishing up the plates and carrying them to the table as well. He had already opened the bottle of champagne, pouring you a glass and then himself, waiting for you to sit down before he lifted it in cheers.

His smile turned soft and his eyes were full of adoration as your glasses clinked and he said, “Thank you for the dinner.” You could've sworn his cheeks were a tiny bit flushed, he seemed bashful in comparison to all the other times you've seen him, possibly shy because of the genuine act of service you prepared for him.

You smiled, “No problem, sweetheart,” you took a sip of your drink and gestured at the food, “Let's eat before it gets cold. And tell me your honest opinion.”

He nodded eagerly, taking a large bite immediately at your command. His eyes widened and he looked at you like he was about to fall madly in love with you. “This…” he couldn't even finish his sentence, taking another bite like a little child stuffing their mouth full of sweets. He resorted to letting out a stifled groan as he pointed at the food, causing you to laugh at the ridiculous theatrics he was performing to show you how much he liked it.

“Calm down, Satoru, it can't be that good…” you chuckled and took a bite, impressing even yourself at the taste of your dish. “Okay, maybe I outdid myself this time.”

He chuckled, continuing to eat his food as if it was his first meal in a thousand years. It warmed your heart to see him enjoy something you cooked for him and it completely dissipated the tension you felt before he arrived.

You two chatted idly while you finished your food, he brought up how he became a teacher and you brought up your work at a bakery downtown. The matter of jujutsu society and picking sides was understandably a topic too heavy for a friendly dinner, but you found a way to mention you had resigned from the jujutsu world altogether. He didn't dwell on the topic too much, choosing to appreciate the moment of normalcy he was afforded and discuss your recent workplace drama instead. He seemed interested enough in such a mundane topic, perhaps more than that. He was fascinated by it.

“So she was caught with the manager and then he fired the girl who caught them?!” he gawked at you in disbelief, amazed at how messy non-sorcerers could be. The jujutsu world was messy in a different way, everybody was too busy fighting curses to be bothered with such trivialities as who was seeing who. They were also infinitely more skilled at hiding it. The little rendezvous between Satoru, Suguru and you is a case in point.

You explained the rest of the drama while you finished your third glass of champagne, Satoru still being on his second. You switched to a different topic soon enough; time was flying by quickly, and at some point, you had gotten up to wash the dishes while he told you about his favorite bakeries and sweets kiosks.

He got up with you without question, bringing over the remaining plates you couldn't carry, and continued talking, until a comfortable silence fell upon the two of you. You washed the dishes and handed them off to him to dry off and place to the side. His eyes watched you studiously, observing every twitch of your muscle as you worked.

Such a mundane thing it must've been for a sorcerer as great as Satoru Gojo. Washing dishes. It dawned on you that Suguru must've done this on purpose, made you spend time alone with Satoru to get to know him better. In that moment you hated how brilliantly calculated Suguru could be because he was right- being alone with Satoru created space for you to think about him as a person and not just someone to compete with over Suguru.

“What are you thinking about?” He whispered next to your ear and you realized you'd been washing the same dish in silence for about two minutes.

“N-Nothing, sorry…” you muttered, feeling your skin tingle with the sudden proximity of his body.

He hummed, moving your hair gently to the side, exposing your neck to him. He was so close, yet your bodies weren't touching, your entire body contorting with deep yearning just to get a feel of him pressed against you. He chose to tease you instead, his lips ghosting over the curve of your neck, warm breath eliciting goosebumps all over your skin.

“You think Suguru would mind?”

You wanted to fall apart right then, crumble into pieces because you didn't want to stop him. Somehow it felt so wrong to do this without Suguru, but his lips brushing against your neck most tenderly was making your mind fall short of reasons to stop.

“I-I don't know, Satoru-” your words turned into a whiny mewl once he finally kissed you. It was embarrassing how easily he could control your mind with just one kiss. Yet there was no time to dwell on it because he didn’t stop, pressing his lips down your exposed neck and shoulder, giving you loving kisses that had your insides melting.

“You're so pretty,” he muttered, his hands coming to rest on your hips, his body finally pressing up against yours and pinning you against the kitchen counter. “Is this okay?” He asked innocently, fingers tracing the curve of your body, from your hip over the side of your torso and over the neckline of your dress.

“Oh my-” you dropped the dish you were holding in the sink as his hand gently wrapped around your neck and pulled you further into him, your head falling back on his shoulder. He had you caged in place, unable to run or move or resist- at least that's what you told yourself. He had you wrapped around his finger, gasping at every feathery touch over your dress, so light you felt like bursting into tears from the rattling heartbeat in your chest.

“You didn't answer, baby.” He muttered into your skin, words a hushed whisper but fingers getting more bold as they pulled up your dress to reveal your panties and the skin of your abdomen. “Should I touch you more?”

You whimpered and swiftly wrapped your hand around his wrist, guiding his fingers to sink below the waistband of your panties. “Please, ‘Toru-”

“Eager, hm?” He kissed your cheek and ear, making you shudder once his fingers started circling your clit slowly, painfully slow, trying to make you fall further into madness. “Should I just fuck you right here, then?”

You nodded without second thought, the champagne and his fingers both messing with your impulse control until you didn't know how to say no anymore. “Y-Yes, ah- please.” You rocked your hips into his fingers, lips parted in delight as he continues to press his lips to your neck. He was making you fall apart only with his lips and fingers, heavy breaths and whimpers next to your ear making your knees weak for him. He seemed so needy, hips rolling slowly against your ass so you could feel the tightness in his pants, feel how much he wanted you.

“Take your panties off for me, pretty.” He mutters and a sound of his belt unbuckling clinks behind you, but his other hand never leaves your clit as you slide your panties down and let them fall to the floor. You're a whimpering mess, dripping over his fingers and down your thighs, already soaking wet from the tension lingering in the air. The languid, delicate kind of tension that makes your heart beat faster in expectation.

He’s pressed up against the soft flesh of your ass, hard and warm, eager to feel you wrap around him. His hand stops toying with you, guiding his thick tip to slide against your pussy instead. You're half bent over the kitchen sink, holding yourself up with hands on each side of it, your eyes screwed shut. Despite the loud thrum of your own pulse in your head, you can hear the faint gasps of desperation coming from Satoru as his needy hands spread you from behind so he could easily sink into you.

Once he finally does, stretching you so delightfully, you feel like you're about to pass out. He was filling you out completely, your eyes rolling to the back of your head and a groan slipped past your lips.

“F-Fuck-” he mutters and his cock twitches inside of you, sliding so slowly against your insides it made you even more drunk than you already were.

“’Toru-” you whine as he bottoms out, legs quivering from having him nestled so deep.

He starts moving slowly as he pulls you back into his chest, head falling back to its place on his shoulder. “Let me feel you, baby, I just want to feel you, p-please-” he whimpers next to your ear, hips unmoving while he relished in the feeling of your tight pussy swallowing his cock and begging for more. His hands roam over your body, one squeezing your breasts under your dress that he was too impatient to take off, the other coming up to wrap around your throat once more. “So good, baby, ah-”

His hips begin moving languidly, his cock sliding in and out of you so painfully slow that you could feel each and every shape of his thumping veins. It felt intimate, slow, and sweet, something you weren’t used to from Satoru. He was rough and liked to get mean so he could hear you whine and complain. But in that moment he was so lost in you he couldn’t find it in his heart to be mean. You were everything to him in that moment, so beautiful that he had to make love to you as tenderly as he could, show you just how much he liked you. Oh, he didn’t like you- he loved you.

He showed you that with gentle touches and kisses, whispering into your ear about how much he needed you all to himself for once, “S-Suguru can have you any day- ah- any day of the week, I was so happy he’d be away.” His hips crash into your own, making you yelp out at the sudden change in force, “I needed this so bad- f-fuck-” he picks up the pace, the smacking of skin against skin filling the quiet space of the kitchen.

“’Toru…” you whine, feeling him deeper inside of you, your whole body quivering along with your voice, “I-I can’t stand like this-” Your legs and hands were weakening by the second and you couldn’t keep yourself up any longer.

“Sorry, baby, sorry-” he mutters and swiftly picks you up, places you to lay on the kitchen island, and slides back into his place molded deeply into you before you could blink. His hands tugged your dress off and returned to your bare body as you shivered on the cold kitchen counter, groans of delight erupting from deep within his chest at the sight of you laid out for him like a full-course meal.

“T-Toru, Suguru will be-” you gasp as he slams his hips forcefully into yours again, grabbing you by your cheeks to look him in the eyes, a scathing glint flickering to light at the mention of his best friend, “Sorry, I-”

“I don’t give a fuck about him right now,” he spits, lips inches away from yours as he keeps steadily pumping his thick cock into you. His flushed face leans in front of yours, hot breath fanning over your skin, smelling faintly of champagne and mint, “It’s time we get to know each other better, huh?”

You nod, eyes rolling to the back of your head immediately as he starts thumbing circles into your sensitive bulb of nerves, your legs spread as far as they could go while he bullies his cock into you repeatedly. You chant his name, your voice echoing like a prayer through your empty house, Suguru slipping from your mind entirely. You fall apart again and again for him, tears brimming in your eyes as he whines and whimpers your name into your skin. His teeth sink into the soft flesh of your breasts, cock jolting up into your g-spot once you squeak in pain.

“I’m c-close baby, fuuck you feel so good-” he groans, kissing your chest and collarbones, worshiping your body with his hands as they grab and squeeze at every soft part of you, memorizing the feeling by heart.

“’Toru- ah- please, please, please- I need you inside plea-” a loud scream rips your throat and his thrusts become even more merciless than before, your helpless pleas creating a savage monster out of him. He’s pummeling into you so deep and with such force that he pushes you across the kitchen island, your head dangling off of it and making you even dizzier than you already were from the numerous times you came on his cock.

He chokes out your name as he buries himself inside of you, hips stilling while he fills you up to the brim with his cum, your insides sticky and warm, taking everything he’s got. It felt so heavenly that all you could do was whisper his name over and over again, hands gripping feverishly at the unbuttoned shirt he forgot to take off, pulling him to lay atop of you and warm you with his entire body.

You try to catch your breath, letting your head hang off the counter, eyes fluttering open slowly as you calm down from your high. You almost don’t register the dark silhouette leaning against the wall across the dining room, but your heart almost stops in panic as you realize Suguru got home already.

“S-Sugu-” you try to say and he chuckles at your raspy voice, strained from screaming Satoru’s name for the past thirty minutes.

Satoru is too spent to look up, but he mumbles against your skin, “Tell him we’re not done.”

You lift your head to look at him, inspecting the fluffy white locks of hair sticking to your dewy skin with his face buried into your chest. Surely he wasn’t being serious? You’ve already messed up enough by doing this without Suguru, who now watched you with that dangerous, calculating sparkle in his eyes.

“Satoru-”

“Then I’ll just keep fucking you in front of him.”

He didn’t give you a second to think before pulling out and slamming back into you, the concoction of your messes letting out a dirty squelching sound that make your face heat up with embarrassment at Suguru hearing that. “Let him watch, baby, since he dared leave you alone- hah- with me-”

Suguru’s tie came undone and he draped it over one of the dining chairs, eyes never leaving yours as Satoru kept ramming into you, his fingers gripping your hips so tight they would surely leave your skin bruised for days. Your eyes brimmed with tears once again, guilt swelling up in your chest- but not from letting Satoru do this without your beloved Suguru- it was because you didn’t let him do it sooner.

“Tell Suguru h-how well we got along-” Satoru chuckles and you don’t know whether or not you’re glad that he’s being mean again because it feels so good to be tortured by him.

You whimper and cry out as he fucks you, looking at Suguru who is still standing in the same place, cheeks flushed red from seeing the filthy debauchery unfold right in front of him. Satoru bites your nipple and you squeal, finally finding your voice to say, “W-We got along so well, Sugu-” Another cry rips through your throat and Satoru grins with your other nipple between his teeth, drool pooling in his mouth from the sweet taste of your skin.

Suguru’s words are venomous as they reach your ears in a low grumble laced with lust, “Couldn’t even wait for me to get home, huh? Must’ve gotten along really well-” he chuckles breathily, barely containing himself from pulling out his cock and stuffing it down your throat. He notices the tears falling into your hair with your head being upside down. “Don’t cry, honey, I’m glad.”

“Your sweetheart feels so good ‘n’ tight around my cock, Suguru, you’re missing out-” Satoru chides, feeling your walls flutter desperately around him at the praise. He chuckles, continuing to whisper dirty things about you as if you weren't even there, talking only to Suguru. “Such a good, sweet little pussy, taking me s-so well… She came for me so much, you would’ve loved to see it.”

Suguru looks up at Satoru and you raise your head to see the white-haired man with a grin on his face, your ankles on his shoulders, sweat dripping down from his forehead and down the side of his face. He looks so majestic that it makes you forget Suguru for a second once again, but Suguru’s heavy footsteps tread over to the kitchen island and shift your focus swiftly back to him. He stands next to Satoru, looking between your legs to see the mess you’ve made, eyes darkening with desire.

“Show me.”

Satoru whines while he pulls out of you, stepping back to let Suguru inspect your leaking hole, Satoru’s cum mixed with your slick gushing out of you slowly for him to see. And you knew your lover was just as depraved as you, if not more, but it still caught you by surprise when he bent down to bury his tongue inside of you, making your back arch off the kitchen island when it made contact with your abused clit.

“Sugu- ru- please- n-no-” you choke out, pushing his face back in futile attempts to disconnect his mouth from you. He’s relentless though, lapping up every last drop of your and Satoru’s cum mixed together, groaning in delight as he tastes you two on his tongue.

Satoru is watching it unfold with hazy eyes, spent and unwilling to let himself use his RCT to regain his stamina. It’s way better to watch you cry and beg Suguru to go easy on you, his cock still aching from the overstimulation from your heavenly pussy. “You’re going to break her, Suguru,” he chuckles and finds his pants, deciding it would be best to draw a bath for the three of you while Suguru finished punishing you for- well, for doing exactly what he wanted you to do in the first place.

“You've been bad without me, hmm?” the tone of his words is both scornful and loving, half pouty as he thinks about all the fun you got to have before he got there. And he could see that you were tired, he didn't want to push you too hard. So he pulled back, lightly smacking your clit to see you jump and whimper one last time.

You catch your breath, allowing him to help you sit up and drape his suit jacket over your shoulders. He looks at you with a smug expression, as if he knows he's finally managed to orchestrate your undoing in terms of jealousy and dislike for Satoru. He does, it's evident by the flush on your cheeks and your tired arms that wrap weakly around his neck so you can pull him into a comforting hug. You smell much less like yourself and more like Satoru, vanilla, and cinnamon tangled in your hair and champagne on your breath. He almost understands what it was like for you when it all started.

“You wanna go take a bath with Satoru while I change?” He grins. His eyes fall to your collarbones, peppered with red marks of Satoru's teeth and he chuckles, “He really can't keep doing this…”

You huff and roll your eyes, already pissed at what you're about to say, “Fine,” you mutter, your swollen lips in a pout, “I was wrong. He's nice.”

Suguru's eyes light up in a way you've never seen before, his smile soft and loving, excitement visible on his face for the first time in ages. It makes your heart flutter and your eyes widen in disbelief, mind reeling as it tries to process the beautiful smile on his face that shines through with happiness.

“I'm glad you like him, my love,” he leans in to give you a quick peck before he picks you up and carries you to the bathroom, “Now take a bath, you must be tired.”

You sigh, arms wrapping tightly around his neck while you kiss him on the cheek. “Join us.” you say, “Please?”

He looks at you, his expression still containing that childish excitement you saw earlier. An ache erupted within your chest, a bittersweet feeling at seeing your Suguru smile so brightly. He’d been so melancholic ever since you’ve met him, it worried you if he was just depressed and unable to be helped. Although, it seemed he cared deeply for Satoru and a burden finally fell from his shoulders once he was able to include the white-haired menace back in his life. He was finally content to see you and Satoru getting along. No matter how messy and depraved the method for sorting out your differences was.

Satoru is already in the bath, long legs bent at the knees to be able to fit in it. “You two done talking shit about me behind my back? You know I can hear everything right?”

You stick your tongue out at him before you join him in the bath, splashing him lightly. His nose scrunches up and he splashes you back, making you gasp out in faux shock at his rudeness.

“Stop it, you two…” Suguru grumbles, “You're gonna make a mess.”

You giggle, “You should see the kitchen…”

Satoru huffs, pulling you to lay against him, “You gotta check the pipes, they must be leaking everywher- ah!” he jolts in surprise when you pinch him to shut him up from saying any more embarrassing things.

“Is this how it's gonna be from now on? You two just being unbearable-” Suguru's sarcastic remarks are cut off by both you and Satoru putting all your might into splashing him with as much water as you can. His pants are ruined along with half of his shirt. They stick to his toned body, revealing the outline of his achingly hard cock in his pants.

“Oh, Suguru, you pervert-” Satoru mocks, “You're getting hard just from seeing us together in a bath?”

“Maybe we should put on a show for him again, what do you say?” You turn around to kneel between Satoru's legs, taking his face between your hands. Your lips brush against Satoru's, water splashing as you manage to sit in his lap, tongue darting out to slide against his own in a deep and sensual kiss that has you aching for his cock once again.

Suguru is at a loss of words at how unbelievably sinful the two of you behaved now, his mind reminding him of the times you were too shy to even mention Satoru by name. And now here he was, watching you devour Satoru with just one kiss, your back arching so you could sink further into the warm feeling of his body against your own. It truly was a sight for his sore eyes.

“I-I thought you two were done-” he clears his throat once his voice comes out an octave higher than his usual laid-back tone.

Satoru whimpers as you buck your hips to grind against his cock, head falling back in delight, lips curving into a satisfied grin, “Seems like we’re not.” He chuckles, hands gripping your ass to guide your movements while you kiss and bite his neck to muffle your honeyed whimpers.

“Fucking brats-” Suguru mutters angrily, stripping all of his clothes in a few seconds and stepping into the tub to sit across from Satoru. He can’t believe he’s being excluded and that he’s pouting about it like an ungrateful child.

You glance at him over your shoulder, letting him watch as you wrap your delicate fingers around Satoru’s thick length and guide it back into you- groaning loudly on purpose to see Suguru’s cock jump involuntarily. “You’re so thick, ‘Toru,” you mumble coyly, mouth falling open in pleasure as you start moving up and down his length, “Sugu’ was so mean for leaving me alone… I felt soo empty-”

Before either you or Satoru could react, you’re being ripped away from him, pulled back, and made to stand on all fours in the tub facing Satoru.

“Oh, shit-” Was the last thing you heard Satoru say before Suguru plunged into you without warning, bottoming out immediately.

“You want to be a slut, sweetheart?” He growls next to your ear, malice dripping from his glossy lips, “I’ll show you how sluts should be treated.”

He pulls back his hips, giving you a second to wonder where he went before ramming into you again, and again, and again until you feel like your insides are about to be rearranged. You whine and cry, his name falling from your lips, eyes squeezed shut so you wouldn’t have to look at Satoru who was gazing at you in pure shock and astonishment at what he’d gotten you into.

“Suguru, she’s-” his words are interrupted by Suguru’s fingers being shoved down his throat.

“Hmm, seems like a- hah- good place to shove my cock- fuck- after I’m done with this pussy, i-isn’t it, baby?” He smacks your ass with his free hand while he pounds into you from behind, your walls clenching around him in encouragement.

All you can do is squeal and mewl in response, mind fucked empty with the raw force of Suguru’s savage thrusts. Your arms shake as they hold you up desperately so you don't fall into the water face first, you feel yourself nearing yet another peak, Suguru's cock ravaging you the only thing occupying your thoughts.

Satoru is drooling over Suguru’s fingers, looking at him with those pristine eyes, daring him to do as he promised. And he does. Once you cry out and your legs shake, your walls clenching around him from your orgasm, he pulls away cruelly and pulls Satoru by the hair to fill his mouth up. He whimpers weakly, muscular thighs flexing as he bucks his hips one final time and releases the sticky white spurts down Satoru's throat. He throws his head back and you marvel at the sight of his long hair falling over his broad shoulders, eyes shut tightly and cheeks flushed a dusty pink.

Once he lets Satoru go, the white-haired man gasps for air, swallowing everything Suguru gave him. “Rude.” He mutters, but he's grinning up at Suguru who gives him a scornful look. “You ruined our bath.”

You would've laughed if you weren't so fucking tired from getting used by them like you were their toy. “You two gotta do it without me next week, I deserve a break.” You mutter weakly as you lean your head on Satoru's shoulder, letting his arms wrap around you to keep you steady.

“Why are you acting like you don't enjoy this?” Suguru asks and settles on the opposite side of the tub, sighing out in exhaustion.

You roll your eyes, “I do enjoy it.”

“Then stop complaining.”

You glare at him, “You were complaining about us starting without you a bit ago.”

Satoru snickers, “And you thought we'd be jealous…”

“Whatever.” The dark-haired man huffs and closes his eyes, ignoring you and Satoru entirely.

“Wanna get out of the tub ‘n’ continue without him?” Satoru whispers to you, not caring whether or not Suguru heard him. Which he did.

“Enough.” He growls.

You giggle at him, “You were enjoying the show in the kitchen.”

“You gotta clean that up. Who's idea was it to fuck in the kitchen?”

“I needed my desert,” Satoru shrugs and you roll your eyes.

“You're cleaning it up.”

“Fine.”

The three of you mellow out into a comfortable silence, all three tired from the strenuous activity you've been through that night. Satoru is tracing soft circles into your shoulder, holding you with your face nuzzled into the slope of his neck.

You almost fall asleep when Suguru's voice jolts you awake. “You stayin’ the night?”

Satoru nods, “If you'll let me.”

“Of course.”

You find yourself lying between them on your king-sized bed once you are cleaned up and dressed in your sleepwear, Satoru dressed entirely in Suguru's clothes. It's warm and relaxing, and you think about how nervous you were at the beginning of the night. The warmth of their bodies spreads to your chest and you know in your heart this is the only place you'd want to stay forever.

“I love you two,” you mutter in the dead of night, thinking they're already asleep.

Satoru nuzzles his nose into the back of your neck, arms wrapping around you even tighter, “Love you, too.”

Suguru presses his lips to your forehead in a gentle kiss and you can feel how widely he's smiling, “I love you, too.”

You chuckle giddily as you realize Satoru became your favorite person just as much as Suguru's.

“But you really gotta clean up the kitchen tomorrow morning-”

“Shut uuup-” you and Satoru whine, both pinching Suguru, making him laugh before he gives you both a kiss and says goodnight.

tags: @minzxec @thattbitchwiththehair @tykaii @tojbnuy @ilovesugurugeto69

[lakes-writting-rambles]

Out Of Choice, But Not Out Of Reach - #1 Inevitabilities And Such Unfortunate Things

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Sometimes your destiny is completely out of your hands – Danny Fenton couldn’t seem to find a way to avoid learning that lesson. First; when he was shot when Slade invaded the headquarters of the League, and subsequently his family, was using, while the fight between Slade and Grandfather was going on, he used the chaos to get to the Lazarus Pit before he bled out; a second time when he died in that godforsaken portal; the most prevalent one was definitely his first meeting with Clockwork, there he noticed that it doesn’t matter how hard you try, if it isn’t meant to be, someone will interfere. It doesn’t mean he won’t still do things as before, but now there’s forever the dread of knowing.

It’s been about a year since what he, Jazz, Sam and Tucker dubbed “The Dan Incident”, and Danny can't seem to stop thinking about it. Well, not really about Dan, no, but about Damian. He can’t stop thinking about how Dan likely ended up killing Damian – it’d be inevitable, and, considering the state the future he had been shown was in, he hoped Damian went early on, really, he also hoped it was quick, like he tried to do when he was in the League.

What really bothered Danny, though, was that he couldn’t help but wonder if staying with the Fentons even was a good idea at this point. Surely he has learned that misfortune would follow him anywhere he went, so why wait for the shoe to drop? Before the accident, he was relatively safe to live the rest of his life in Amity, sure, it was kind of a deadend, but it was tranquil, so he couldn’t really complain. Now, though? He was in constant danger inside and outside his house, being half dead meant no place with the living and no place with the dead. He should leave while he still can.

The League isn’t likely to spot him, considering it’s been years since his “death” and he probably looks different enough from Damian now… which is something he’ll have to think about later. And the threats of dissection (vivisection?) by his parents keep increasing – he doesn’t want to fuck around and find out.

So, the League is probably not an issue anymore, staying seems to get more dangerous each day and he’s pretty sure most ghosts only come to Amity to fight him.

Nevertheless, running away also came with a plethora of problems, for one: leaving Jazz and his friends. When he got adopted into the Fenton household he tried not to get attached to anyone. He couldn’t keep that up for long, as a touch starved 9 year old that came from a violent background and got thrown into a very loving family. First, he got attached to his parents, then Jazz, Tucker, and finally, Sam. He doesn’t regret it, not one bit, but it might make this choice hard to make – since the easiest way to run away would be to fake his death and forgo any contact with everyone from his old life. Maybe they’d know he wasn’t (fully) dead, maybe they’d just be extremely miserable, he wouldn't know. 

Another issue is that he’s the current Ghost King, and oh boy doesn’t that complicate things? He keeps getting more powerful, which means keeping his cover is getting harder – an unsettling and overpowering aura surrounds him now, and sure, it reacts to other people’s emotions as well as his own, which in theory should make it easier to hide, since everyone in Amity seems to have differing opinions on his two  personas, but the fact that his aura is big enough that others take notice is concerning enough on its own; he’s control over his abilities needs to be impeccable or he risks getting found out; and he’s pretty sure some of his more ghostly traits are beginning to bleed over into his human form. He also needs stable access to a portal, since he needs to take at least two trips per month to the Ghost Zone so he can check over things with Clockwork and parade around to remind the citizens of the realm that he is their king; he can’t officially take over since he’s still alive, once he’s entirely dead he will, but for now the observants act as regents and that’s more than fine by him.

And third: he’s not really sure where he should go. You’d think Gotham would be his first option because of his father, but he has too much media presence, so Danny’d be brought to the spotlight. Does anyone in Amity care about Gotham? Not that he knows of. But it’d still be too big of a risk. Plus, Tucker really wants to work in Wayne Enterprises in the future, he’s sure that it’d become a problem in no time.

So… what to do? Money isn’t a problem, since he has access to all the treasure hoarded by Pariah Dark over the centuries, but that’s not all he has to consider. He needs some sort of safety net, that much is obvious, and since he won’t be able to count on his regular support system, he should fall back on his blood.

Maybe he could go to Blüdhaven? It’s close enough to Gotham that he can go there if he somehow needs to come into contact with someone from his biological family but not enough that he’d be immediately clocked… but then there’s Nightwing… as long as he doesn’t get  into any trouble it should be fine, right? It’s not like there’s a city without a hero nowadays… Urgh, nevermind, he’ll come back to these thoughts later, he’d rather not spend his rare moment of peace coming up with what to do after he fakes his death.

Sometimes fate decides that things should be ultimately out of your hands – but Damian Al Ghul Wayne fights with all his might to avoid such a thing becoming a rule in his life. When he came to live with his father, around 7 years ago, he held out hope that his twin had made it and would eventually return to his side. That never happened. And now Damian isn’t sure how to approach the topic of Danyal with his family, so he just… doesn’t. Even after all this time, it feels wrong to keep the memory of Danyal to himself, he should be celebrated, even if his death was premature and almost a decade has passed.

Danyal had died the same day as Grandfather, which is why his grief isn’t questioned –, even if the Bats are well aware of his distaste of his Grandfather’s actions, now that he’s recognized them for what they were. Damian isn’t sure if it’ll ever come to pass, because in quiet moments like this, he thinks of what could have been.

His twin was never needlessly violent, and his killings were virtually a mercy, compared to the others in the LoA, even himself. Maybe he would have adapted faster than Damian did, maybe he would have made a better Robin, maybe they would still wake up together and share little moments of quiet.

It’s all speculation, all it will ever be. They never found his body, but even now, years later, the image of his pierced chest is burned between the other twin’s eyes, it wasn’t likely to survive a wound like that, and even if he did, the bloodloss would’ve killed him regardless. But to a 9 year old, the what ifs often overshadow reality, which is why Damian had kept his hopes up, afterall, one of the many teachings of the League was that “if there isn’t a body then one should always consider the possibility of the victim having survived”. But now, at 16, he could see it for what it was, the foolishness of a child longing for what is gone – he’ll never admit it, but in the darkest, deepest and most hidden part of his heart, Damian still has a little bit of wonder, almost completely squashed, but a bit of hope of seeing his brother once again remains.

There’s no use for pondering at the moment, time doesn’t stop and soon one of his siblings will notice his absence at breakfast and come to pester him, thus he gets up and readies himself to face another hectic morning.

“If I were to go missing, where would you search for me first?” was not a question Tucker was ready for, like, at all, but especially at two in the afternoon on a saturday. Danny hadn’t been the same since that thing with Dan or whatever they had dubbed it, he didn’t change much, but he seemed to get lost in thought more frequently, and Tucker didn’t blame him! Really! But man, what went through his head was morbid at times, and he maybe shouldn’t voice those out of nowhere.

— Uhh I guess… your parent’s basement? — awkward silence fills the air, it’s the most obvious answer, but not a thing they normally consider outloud. A grimace crosses Danny’s face for a second.

— No, I mean, if I …ran away. — he says, and there’s some hesitancy. Obviously, there’s more to the question, but Tucker can’t for the life of him figure out what it could be.

— I’d guess Wisconsin, since it’s close by and you might be able to rely on Vlad if push comes to shove, but that is not likely at all, — Sam starts before coming to a slight pause to think. — Maybe Missouri?

— Why…?

— Cause it’s close by, it’s not like we’d let you get far before going after you. — she smirks and gives his arm a little punch.

—  I think we’d find Danny in Florida, actually, — Tucker chuckles before continuing — it’s the only place where he wouldn’t stand out.

— Oh, screw you. — He says before he lunges at Tucker.

Sam watches for a bit, the conversation got to her more than it did to Tucker. She decides that now isn’t the time to worry about it, she doesn’t think Danny would leave them behind without saying anything, not after all they’ve been through, but it did leave a sour taste in her mouth. To stop herself from spiraling down a rabbit hole, she jumps – literally jumps – into the struggle. 

That is how the three friends end up scratched all over, with dirt and grass stuck to their clothes and silly smiles on their faces, looking up at the sky as the clouds pass by. Moments like this used to be common, but with the chaos that is Amity Park nowadays a chance to just relax and joke around as friends seems more and more like a luxury.

Their peace is interrupted when Danny sighs, a defeated sigh that usually comes after his breath fogs – which means there is a ghost nearby. A shout ruptures the quiet and kills any hopes for the rest of their afternoon.

— BEWARE! I AM THE BOX GHOST!

— Alright, — he gets up and stretches. — Just wait for me, I’ll be back in a sec.

Sam and Tucker look at each other, worried glances on both ends – they didn’t even need to say anything. Things will never go back to the way they were before, that is something all three know intimately. Danny died. Everything they have witnessed is bound to leave some sort of mark as well. And there are the Fentons. Sam and Tucker knew Danny and Jazz loved their parents, but at this point it seemed inevitable that someday they’d turn on Danny, and it seems that even if he doesn’t talk about it, it’s also something he believes.

It feels unfair, Danny seemed to have come from a bad background and was settling into his own skin and fully letting his guard down for what felt like the first time before the accident. And wasn’t that heartbreaking? He’d adjusted to the life in Amity early on, but to actually enjoy himself? That took some 2-3 years, and to trust that he could always rely on the people around him? It had just started happening into the beginning of their ninth grade. Then the portal opened and he had to put some of those walls back up to protect himself, not just emotionally, but physically as well. Now, they’re in 11th grade, they should be looking for colleges and studying for entrance exams, but instead, Danny is thinking of running away.

They know how their friend thinks at this point, and it’s undeniable they’ll likely have to say goodbye soon.

Dealing with the Box Ghost wasn’t hard, but it sure was annoying. After the fight (if you could even call it that) ended he went back to Sam and Tuck, they laid on the grass for a while longer, ultimately, they got hungry and headed to the Nasty Burger and ate before parting ways.

Danny plops face first into his bed. Well… he could have approached that with more subtlety. Maybe it was his subconscious trying to get them to look for him, or something, to prepare them for his absence. That sounds too close to something Jazz would say…

He turns around, putting his arm on his forehead. His thoughts keep getting away from him, always back to Damian – would he have liked Amity Park? Probably not, if he was being honest with himself. He couldn’t even see himself liking it there when he arrived – in fact: He had hated it. The city was so calm it felt forced, the Fentons so loving it felt like a trap, the kids lacked any malice at all, everything screamed danger at him, like he was about to be ambushed. Nothing ever came to that, just a nice, cozy, little town. 

Well, until the portal opened, that is. 

He stops and just looks at his ceiling for a bit, the old glow in the dark stars already discolored and lacking any actual functionality, there was no reason for them to remain there but the attachment to what they used to be, kinda like him. There was no escaping his current reality. No escaping his need to desert this city, this family, this life. 

Danny sits up and looks around his room, which for the last few years had become his safe haven. He looks at the stained carpet, marked by his many sleepovers with Sam and Tuck, he looks at his ceiling fan, that was cracked from the time the trio had tried to recreate the solar system on it, he looks at his closet, his posters, his desk, everything that was proof of the life he had lived here.

He needs some water and something to eat before setting his plan up.

As he heads down the stairs to the first floor he hears his mother’s soft voice coming from the kitchen.

— Oh Jack, I’m so worried about Danny, — the phrase startles Danny, he turns invisible and intangible, floating a bit so as to not make any sound, — his ecto-contamination has only gotten worse over the years… how can we be sure he’s okay?

— Honey, I’m sure Danno is fine! He must be building up resistance!

— But what if… what if it’s fusing to him? What if there’s no reversing this? — His mom is chewing on her lower lip, clearly distressed. 

At the sight, his dad softens up and hugs her, his voice comforting as he speaks, — We’ll make sure he’s fine, Maddie. We might not know what happened, but we know each other and we know what we’re doing, we’re experts in our field. 

Danny can’t stay there anymore, they know he has ecto in his system and they know it’s getting worse. They know and they want to “fix” him. He’s completely and utterly fucked. 

Alongside his nervousness there is also newfound resolve. He quickly phases into his room, grabs his thermos, maybe two shirts and a pair of pants, he shoves it all inside an old backpack he hasn’t used in years. He will need to dispose of his phone, taking anything electronic with him will leave a trail and he can’t have that. Hopefully his parents don’t have his ecto signature yet, he doesn’t think he has the time to get rid of it if they do.

He checks the kitchen again, they aren’t there anymore, likely back in the lab, then. He has to leave through the front door, to not raise any suspicions. Now, how to make this realistic? Maybe he can fake being murdered? No, Amity doesn’t really have that type of violence. Maybe he can fake being a casualty in a ghost attack? But he’d have to damage public spaces to do so and he doesn’t want to endanger anyone else… Fake getting kidnapped? It wouldn’t be the first time it happened, even as a human.

He could also just up and leave. It’s not like Amity has any actual investigative police force… Maybe he’s complicating things too much. He needs to go before he has time to chicken out. His parents will probably make a move on his ecto contamination within the week and he can’t be there for that.

— Bye mom, dad, be back in a bit! — and so, he shuts the door – leaving his house for what will probably be the last time.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Inevitabilities And Such Unfortunate Things > Those We Leave Behind

AO3

[novalityy]

No going back.

⋆·˚ ༘*🔭 In which a call is way more concerning than it seemed.⋆·˚ *🔭

Warnings *ੈ✩‧₊˚ - Blood, fighting, arguments, framing, crying, torture, taskforce 141 being mean, angst, comfort later.

Call of duty taskforce 141 x reader.

Hi, lol i'm back. Sorry I deleted my blog all of a sudden. I had to go for a long time, it's been a year? I'm going to rewrite the original story since i kindaa... deleted them..IM SORRY.

Blood trickled from your forehead, warm and sticky, as the dull ache in your skull pulsed with your racing heartbeat. The throbbing in your head was intense, but it paled in comparison to the crushing weight of betrayal in your chest. You groaned, instinctively trying to lift a hand to your temple, only to find your wrists bound tightly together. The rough bite of the restraints against your skin pulled you fully into the present. Forcing your eyes open, you took in your surroundings. The room was unmistakable—your base’s interrogation chamber.

Empty, save for you.

Your mind raced, piecing together the fragmented memories of how you ended up here. When you answered Price’s call this morning, this was the last place you expected to find yourself.

The morning had started innocuously enough. Your phone buzzed insistently, dragging you from the haze of sleep. Grumbling, you fumbled for it under your pillow, blindly swiping to answer.

“Hello?” you mumbled, your voice thick with sleep.

Silence.

You pulled the phone away to glance at the screen. Price. His name stared back at you, ominous and foreboding.

“Price?” you tried again, sitting up now.

His voice, when it came, was clipped and cold. “I expect you at the base in 30 minutes.”

Before you could respond, the line went dead. You stared at the phone, unease curling in your stomach. Price was rarely one for pleasantries, but the venom in his tone was unmistakable.

Shaking off the lingering fog of sleep, you swung your legs out of bed and padded to the bathroom. The mirror reflected the toll of your last mission—dark circles under your eyes, a faint bruise along your jaw. You sighed, splashing cold water on your face before pulling on a pair of blue jeans and a plain white shirt.

Breakfast could wait. The urgency in Price’s voice left little room for delay. Grabbing your keys, you locked up and drove to base, the gnawing anxiety in your gut growing stronger with every mile.

As you arrived, the atmosphere was palpably different. Conversations hushed as you walked past, and familiar faces turned away, avoiding your gaze. The unease in your stomach churned into something darker.

By the time you reached Price’s office, your nerves were frayed. Knocking on the door, you pushed it open and froze. Four men were inside, their expressions grim. Gaz wouldn’t meet your eyes, staring down at his feet. Soap’s usual easygoing demeanor was absent, his jaw set tightly. Ghost loomed in the corner, his unreadable mask doing little to hide the tension radiating from him. And Price… Price’s eyes burned with something you couldn’t quite name but feared all the same.

“So?” you asked, your voice wavering despite your efforts to keep it steady. “You called me here. What’s going on?”

Price exhaled a cloud of smoke, his cigar nearly crushed in his grip. When he finally spoke, his voice was low and dangerous. “Drop the act. Tell me everything. Now.”

Confusion twisted your features. “What are you talking about?”

Price’s response was immediate and explosive.

He slammed his hand down on the desk, the force rattling the items atop it.

“I AM NOT IN THE MOOD FOR GAMES, OPERATOR! CONFESS, AND I MIGHT SPARE YOU HALF OF WHAT’S COMING!”

The words hit you like a physical blow. Operator. Not your name. Whatever this was, it was serious.

You glanced at the others, searching for an ally, but found none. Even Soap looked away when your eyes met his.

“Please,” Soap said softly, his voice almost pleading. “Just tell him. It’ll be worse if you don’t, bonnie.”

Your throat tightened. “Tell him what?” you demanded, anger starting to edge into your voice. “If this is some sick joke, it’s not funny. I don’t know what you think I’ve done, but—”

The door creaked open, cutting you off. A young cadet stepped inside, tall and blonde, his sharp blue eyes locking onto you with cold calculation. Recognition flickered—you’d seen him around the base, but you’d never exchanged more than a few words.

Price gestured to him. “Tell her.”

The cadet’s voice was steady, rehearsed. “I have proof that you’ve been leaking critical intel to Makarov.”

The room spun. You stared at him, then at the others, waiting for someone to laugh, to call this out for the absurdity it was. But no one did. Instead, Ghost’s voice cut through the silence, cold and sharp.

“We believe him.”

Your gaze snapped to him, disbelief written across your face. “Simon…”

“Don’t call me that,” he growled. “We’re not that familiar anymore.”

The words were a knife to the chest. You turned to Price, desperation creeping into your tone. “Show me the proof.”

He slammed a file onto the desk. You snatched it up, flipping through the pages. The evidence was damning—emails, login records, reports. It painted a picture so convincing you almost doubted yourself. Almost.

But the dates didn’t line up. The locations didn’t match. It was sloppy work, something you’d never do if you were guilty.

You threw the file back onto the desk. “You seriously think I did this?”

“Yes,” came the unanimous response.

Anger and heartbreak warred within you. “You’ve known me for years! You’re taking the word of some cadet over me?”

Gaz and Soap stepped forward, gripping your arms as you surged toward Price.

“Let me go!” you shouted, struggling against them. “You can’t seriously believe this!”

Price’s voice was ice. “Take her to the room.”

Panic clawed at you as they dragged you down the hall. “No! This is a mistake! I didn’t do it!”

They shoved you into the interrogation chamber. Before you could regain your footing, a fist connected with your face, sending you sprawling. You looked up to see Ghost towering over you, his eyes like flint.

“Couldn’t even wait to strap me down?” you spat, blood dripping from your lip.

“You’re a traitor,” he said flatly. “If it were up to me, you’d already be dead.”

The words shattered something inside you. He hauled you up by your hair, ignoring your struggles, and strapped you into the chair.

Price entered, knife glinting in his hand. “Last chance,” he growled.

“I didn’t do it,” you whispered, tears streaming down your face.

The blade plunged into your thigh, and you screamed.

The betrayal, more than the pain, was unbearable.

＊•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙˚＊•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙˚＊•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙˚＊•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙˚＊•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙˚＊•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙˚＊•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙˚＊•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙˚＊•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙˚＊•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙˚＊•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙˚

MAN I STRUGGLED, i hope i did well....ty ly

[ailithnight]

Aheem... prompt from @regonold

16 Hours

Danny remembers the first time something shorted out his powers. Vlad with his stupid Plasmius Maximus thing. Well, 'remembers'. Mostly he remembers the aftermath.

Apparently Vlad hadn't known at the time exactly how Danny ended up half ghost. He thought it had been a slower progression like his own development. It hadn't occurred to him that Danny's original death had been much quicker.

Danny remembers a short, light shock. Really, the spector deflector was worse. But this shock... suddenly his muscles were seizing, his heart stuttering, his Lichtenbergs burning. And then, nothing. A blank space in Danny's head that apparently spanned 3 hours.

Next thing he knows, they're in some kind of vehicle. There are sirens outside (a police escort, Danny would later learn). His mom is driving like her life depends on it. And Vlad is giving him chest compressions, looking grieved and panic striken. He's crying. They both are.

"Please tell me you didn't have to kiss me." His voice comes out pained and raspy. Mom almost crashes the vehicle.

"No, Little Badger. Thankfully, you kept breathing. Just your heart that was struggling." Vlad chuckled, guilty yet relieved.

It was another hour before they made it to the nearest hospital from the stupid hunting cabin. 6 more for all the stupid medical tests. "An accident," Vlad told them. "Small shock, but with an already weak heart..."

Any other time, Danny might have argued. Tried to make Vlad admit more guilt. But the whole ordeal had exhausted him to much to care then.

The second time was marginally better. At least with the Fenton Crammer, it was a steady loss. And Danny managed to fix it before his healing factor fully failed. It still hadn't been pleasant, fighting Skulker and dealing with Dash while phantom echoes of his death arced across his body. But he'd managed.

This. This is so much worse. Danny thought it would be like the Crammer again. A steady decline. But it isn't.

And it isn't like the Maximus either, a one then done, pain then nothing, dying then dead, moment.

No. This is more like the blood blossoms. This is torture. This is hell.

The suppression cuffs let just enough of his power bleed through, just enough healing factor, to keep him alive. Alive and in agony for... hours? Days? Weeks? Minutes? Danny couldn't really tell. His thoughts had long since turned to nothing but static and pain. All he knew was that time was passing around him while he was here, suffering on the absolute brink of death yet unable to embrace it.

Oh god he wanted to die. Please just let him die already! It's too much. A death that should only last a few seconds drug out into an eternity. His muscles ached with the strain of being locked up. His insides were broiling from the electric heat. His heart stuttered and stopped and started and stuttered. It hurts. It hurts. It hurts!

He might have been screaming. He might have been Wailing. Or he might he been choking on weak uneven breaths. Danny didn't know. Didn't care to know. Didn't care if he ever found out the details of his time in chains. He just wanted, no needed, it to end. But it just dragged on and on and on. And Danny was lost in it.

Too far gone to even realize when it ended.

.

Batman hadn't been there when the new meta appeared, quite literally materializing from nowhere in the conference room mid-meeting. He had been dealing with a mass Arkham breakout at the time. So he wasn't there. An unfortunate fact which will haunt him for the rest of his life and possibly beyond.

He should have been there. If he had only been there...

He didn't blame his team mates. They didn't know. Who would have guessed that simple power suppression cuffs could ever be an instrument of torture. He'd never considered it possible.

He didn't blame his team mates. How could he blame them? Batman wasn't even the one to connect the dots. Red Robin figured it out. He always was good at stringing together thoughts know one else would think to connect.

Red Robin asked the right questions. He figured out in 5 minutes what the rest of the league and the best doctors -not technically- on earth had been agonizing over for 16 hours.

16 hours too long.

He should have been here. Should have come sooner.

"Don't know, B!" Flash had met him at the Zetas, already rambling at top speed before he could reorient himself after teleportation. Everyone else had gone home, unable to help and needing to tend to their own cities and responsibilities.

"He just- He appeared out of nowhere while we were in meeting. Didn't trip any alarms or nothing. Just popped up. We figured it had to be teleportation, but he'd have to know where the Watchtower was to do that.

So we figured, you know, random kid teleporting into the Watchtower during a Justice League meeting. Not good. Big threat. Bats would tell us to detain. So we did.

But before we could get him to a holding cell, there was this flash of light and he changed or something. He had white hair and green eyes and some sort of jumpsuit on when he appeared.

But after the light he had black hair and a t-shirt and jeans and I actually didn't see his eyes cause he just collapsed on the spot.

Started convulsing or seizing or something. And screaming. God, B, the screaming... So we took him to medbay and...

He's dying B. He has to be. He's got a fever that keeps spiking and dropping, his muscles keep spasming, and his heart keeps giving out...

He looks 14. He looks like..."

Flash had trailed off there, as they reached medbay. Bruce understood his reluctance to complete that sentence as soon as he saw the boy.

He looks like a Robin.

Like all 4 of his sons combined.

Like someone mixed Dick's and Jason's faces and put it on Tim's body at Damian's age.

It can't even be a trick. The suppression cuffs are nullifying his abilities. This is what he truly looks like.

His sons.

In pain.

In agony for 16 hours because Batman prioritized Gotham over an emergency on the Watchtower.

"When exactly did you say he collapsed."

"When we were moving him to a holding cell after we caught him. He was a trick to catch too. He-"

Red Robin cut him off. "Yeah, sure. But when exactly did this start. What happened immediately before?"

Flash was less then pleased about being interrupted, but acquiesced after a look from Batman. Tim had an idea. Tim was on to something. "Like I said, just after we caught him and got the cuffs on so he'd stop slipping away again."

Bruce couldn't keep the growl out of his voice one he realized what Tim was suggesting. Of course he knows it wasn't their fault. He's told all of them as much since. But in the moment...

"Take them off!"

"What?"

"It's the cuffs! Take the damn cuffs off! They're killing him!"

Flash wasted no more time, bolting out of the room to fetch the disabler. Tim didn't bother waiting for the fastest man alive. He had the cuffs disabled before Flash would have been able to swipe his access card into the detainment center storage room. Bruce practically threw the cuffs out of the room in his haste to get them away.

The change had been... not nearly as quick as Bruce would have liked. The heartrate settled out almost instantly, although into something a bit too slow for comfort. But it was steady and Bruce knew nothing about this kid's normal physiology so he counted it a win.

The screaming, of course, had long since choked off. According to Flash's report, his vocal cords failed after about an hour. But his facial expressions still indicated consciousness, though not awareness.

The muscles stopped spasming and unlocked slowly over the course of several minutes. Flash was back by then, looking a bit put out to have lost a race against Red Robin. Batman could not give a single flying fuck about Flash's ego right then.

Shortly after his muscles unlocking was when he finally passed out. Once more, Batman thought about 16 hours. 16 hours and he hadn't even been able to slip into unconsciousness for relief. He should have been here.

The fever was the slowest to break. In that it still hadn't broken almost 2 hours later. Batman had sent Tim and Flash home after Red Robin finished squeezing all the details he could out of Barry. Tim had given him a look before leaving, some mixture of worry and mischief. "Should I tell Agent A to prepare a room?" Bruce just rolled his eyes and shooed him off. Hopefully to bed. Knowing his son, probably not. Tim was most likely still up doing research. Bruce wanted to call Alfred to wrangle Tim to sleep.

But calling Alfred would mean leaving the room so the still potentially a threat meta couldn't hear if he woke up. And Bruce couldn't leave him. Not until the fever broke. Not until he woke up. Not until he knew the boy that looked like his sons would be okay.

Not until he could apologize for being late.

16 hours.

16 hours too late.

[ghostgirl101]

Imagine making friends with Cassidy, the young boy possessing Golden Freddy.

|| Word Count: 522 || Platonic Fluff ||

A/N: Goldie's my favourite character from the FNAF world, so I had to write a bit of something for him .-. if you want to see anything specific for any of the FNAF. movie characters then go ahead and request some stuff, as long as it's not smut, and platonic/childhood sweethearts with the missing children :)

Ever since you started working as a night guard after Mike Schmidt’s resignation, surprisingly, you aren’t attacked by the vengeful animatronics who stalk the building. If anything, they’re protective. Especially Cassidy, the quiet young boy who always seems to be watching from the shadows. He’s killed someone before who got too close to you. You’ve even seen him smile once, a massive rarity.

He lingers in the corridor and watches you from the distance with an unreadable look, a hint of a smile on his face. You glance up from the camera screens to meet his calm, but equally sharp and intense stare from across the hall, piercing through the darkness cloaking the entire building, generators always seeming to fail and leaving Freddy's in an ominous night-cloaked tone.

"Hi, Cas," you say softly into the dark room, Cassidy tilting his head ever so slightly to the side in an almost curious response. You can't help but smile slightly at that, the traces of childhood and its blissfull innocence, not completely snuffed out by the horrors that took it all away from him so many years ago. He says nothing.

"Come to keep me company?" You offer with a half-smile, reaching out a hand in his direction, slowly and steadily, ready for him to reject it in silence and step back into the blackness that he seems to so effortlessly emerge from.

Cassidy hesitates for a long moment, before taking a soundless step forward, gazing at your hand blankly, as if not entirely trusting the gesture. But then, slowly, slowly, he stretches out his arm and smaller hand to meet yours, cold dead fingers brushing against yours. You smile fully, squeezing his fingers between yours gently, comfortingly, your other hand brushing back his fine blond locks away from his eyes.

"Poor thing," you find yourself mumbling aloud to yourself. "You're freezing..."

It's a good question of if Cassidy can actually feel the chill, but it doesn't seem to bother him. The foreign positive touch is nice and soothing, and a ghost of appreciation makes his mouth twitch into an almost-smile. He rests his head against your shoulder, breathing out a small content breath from his nose, as your fingers skim the boy's hair. He looks so little and quiet and distant, and for a moment, it seems like a ridiculous idea that he could be capable of anything close to murder, though he most certainly is.

You glance back at the cameras absentmindedly... then again. A frown tugs at your brows, and you peer closer at the digital, hazy image of the abandoned party room... and an intruder, someone who had found their way into the building, or was very likely lured there, lying still and cold on its floors.

"What...?"

Your voice trails off in realisation, and you roll your eyes, half amused, before looking back to Cassidy with a brow raised, as if to say, "really?"

Cassidy, of course, blinks back up at you with unfaltering innocence, his gaze only sharpening with matching amusement and something familiarly dark and unsettling that lingers in the halls of the Pizzeria.

"He fell asleep."

[cod-dump]

They weren’t paying attention to the conversations around them.

Ghost was leaning back against the couch, dead asleep, while Soap leaned against him dozing. Gaz took up the rest of the couch, head resting on Soap’s lap while he stretched out, playing on his phone as he debated on getting up to go to bed.

Nik and Price were talking in the kitchen connected to the lounge, it was hushed as they didn’t want to disturb the boys. Soap was half listening to what they were saying, choosing to mostly focus on Ghost’s steady heartbeat and the slight movement from Gaz as he messed with his phone. It was a lazy evening, no reason to move or not fall asleep.

“Oh? Is Bear coming back?”

For some reason, the hushed tease in Nik’s voice immediately grabbed Soap and Gaz’s attention. Soap blinked and leaned away from Ghost slightly, now fully interested on listening in on the conversation in the neighboring room.

“Shut the fuck up, Nik. Will you ever let that go?”

“Absolutely not.”

Gaz slowly sat up, turning his head to meet Soap’s gaze before they both look over the back of the couch.

“Why not? I miss him,” more teasing followed by Price’s less than pleased growl.

“Too fucking bad.”

The conversation ended after that, Soap and Gaz snapping their heads forward to focus on the long forgotten TV, Price quietly storming out of the lounge behind them. Nik followed not long after, a quiet laugh under his breath. Soap and Gaz sat in silence, the show that played before them still receiving none of their attention.

“Who’s Bear?” Soap asked, turning to look at Gaz.

“I have no idea, never heard of anyone by that name before.”

That intrigued them. Nik and Price’s shared past was full of adventure, stories that would keep them entertained for the rest of their days. But both were rather quiet about everything they went through before the boys came around. Well, except for one.

“Hey, Simon.”

Ghost was awake in an instant, there was no need to poke him to get him awake. He straightened up, on edge before he settled after noticing that there was nothing to be alarmed over.

“Fuck- What?”

“Do you know someone called ‘Bear’?”

Ghost blinks before he snorts, “Please tell me Nik isn’t trying to make Bear come out.”

“So you know him?”

Ghost grins, “Yea, so do you.”

They should’ve known better than to think Ghost was going to give them a straight answer. Instead he smirked before rising off the couch, grabbing his mask off the arm of the couch as he walked around it.

“Simon-!”

“G’night, gentlemen,” teased Ghost before he left the room.

Soap scoffed, “That asshole!”

Gaz just stared in front of him, thinking. Then his eyes widened in realization.

“Is… is Bear Price?”

“… Oh my GOD-“

“He is!”

“So he lied about never picking up a callsign in his rookie days? Why am I even surprised?”

They never heard anyone refer to Price as Bear, not until now. Which makes Soap and Gaz only wonder about why.

[bunnymoon-phase]

More for @wyervan 's slasher au! They wondered about the conversation Sun and Moon would have about "dating" one of their targets' partners and my brain kicked into turbo mode.

No warnings except conversations about violence, I think? And suggestive implications?

***

Sun’s there when Moon opens the door to their apartment, standing sharply and marching over to him like a jealous wife. He completes the association by crossing his arms, tapping his toes impatiently. “Where were you?”

Moon doesn’t look at him. He brushes past him, taking off his coat and tossing it over the back of the couch. The distraction doesn’t work; Sun just scowls at the offending piece of clothing as Moon replies. “Walking Star home.”

Sun makes a noise in the back of his throat, high-pitched and laugh-reminiscent. “It’s been hours. It doesn’t usually take hours to walk them seven blocks, Moon.”

He trails him as Moon moves through the dining room and into the kitchen, opening the fridge. Moon hesitates before he confesses. “I kissed them.”

There’s a beat of silence. Sun gives a half-laugh, deadly calm. “You what?”

Moon closes the fridge and stands, leaning against it. “I kissed Esther.”

The idea hasn’t fully settled in yet. Sun blinks at him with those long eyelashes, wide close-lipped smile on his face, giving him an almost manic look. “Why?”

“Thought it’d be funny.”

The anger sets in, then, coloring Sun’s face scarlet as he starts breathing faster, deeper. His smile disappears and he gestures wildly with his arms. “You thought it’d be funny?!”

Moon doesn’t respond. Sun only waits a moment longer. “Was it?!”

He rolls his neck, more for an excuse not to look Sun in the eye when he replies than to pop the joints.

“No,” Moon finally admits.

“Oh! Oh!” Sun’s at the stage of anger where everything is funny to him. “Oh, it wasn’t funny to kiss your employee, Moon?! What a surprise! What a shock! What was it instead?”

His response is quiet, the ghost of sweet lips crushing against his on his mind. “It was addicting.”

Sun makes a violent gesture in the corner of his eye, too apoplectic to speak, and finally takes a deep breath. “That’s the worst response you could have had!”

“I know.”

Sun bends at the side to force himself into Moon’s line of sight, bracing himself on the counter with an arm. “Harrison’s been dead barely a month, Moon!”

“I know.”

“This is going to cast suspicion on you if the cops find out!”

“I know.”

“Wh—I—Moon, you killed her boyfriend!”

“And I’d do it again,” Moon meets Sun’s gaze for a moment, then turns and walks out of the kitchen. Sun follows after him instantly.

“But you understand why you can’t date them—they don’t know, Moon! Despite everything, she loved him—”

“No she didn’t, they told you theirself she was relieved he was gone—”

“—and you’re the one who took him away from her!”

“Oh, and you had no role in the incident?” Moon shot sarcastically.

Sun scoffed. “I’m not the one kissing her out of nowhere!”

“It wasn’t out of nowhere.” Moon crossed his arms. “She asked me to.”

Sun pinched his nose, then gestured emphatically towards him. “That makes it worse!”

Moon shrugged. There was a beat of silence that hung heavy between them, but Sun’s anger seemed to drain. He took a deep breath, sighed heavily, and leaned against the table. “So what, you were just kissing them for four hours?”

Moon cocked his head to the side and leveled his gaze at Sun like a weapon. Sun stared back for a moment, clueless, and Moon raised an eyebrow.

Comprehension dawned. “No.”

Moon dropped his gaze to the floor. Despite himself, he smiled.

Sun’s hands shot into his line of sight, balling into the front of his shirt and yanking him foreward before he realized what was happening. Nose to nose, Sun shook him, and shook him again for good measure. “Are you out of your mind?”

Moon shoved Sun back, and the other man stumbled but didn’t fall. He didn’t grab Moon again but instead advanced on him until he’d cornered him against the wall, intense and whispering. “You’re deceiving them, Moonie.”

Moon sneered. “No I’m not.”

“You’re lying by omission. For all you know, she’d hate you for what we did to Harrison.” Sun’s gaze doesn’t waver. “By pretending you had no hand in his disappearance, you’re giving her the impression you’re someone you’re not. They don’t know who they’re really getting involved with.”

Moon doesn’t answer. Sun takes a step back to give him room to breathe. When he tries to put a hand on his shoulder, Moon smacks it away, and Sun’s face hardens again.

“This can’t happen again, Moon.”

The silence lingers, but it doesn’t feel right. Eventually, Sun steps to the side, and Moon slinks past him. He gets all the way to the living room before he stops again.

“Are you really that concerned about lying to them, or are you just jealous?”

That manic grin spreads over Sun’s face again, joyless. “I beg your pardon?”

Moon crosses his arms again, leaning against the back of the couch. “For all your repression, you don’t hide it well when you’ve got a crush. You just want to keep our little Star all for yourself.”

Sun scoffed, but the laugh had more venom than it usually did, and his ears were turning red. “Even if that were true, it doesn’t change anything. You don’t see me seducing them barely a month after their boyfriend went missing.”

Moon smirked. “Yeah, they didn’t ask you.”

For a brief second, incandescent rage lit Sun up from the inside, like some vision of holy wrath, and Moon worried they were about to get into a real fight—an actual one, instead of petty squabbling and bitching. But just as quickly as the moment came it was gone, and Sun made a disgusted noise as he threw his hands up.

“I’m going to bed,” he announced. Moon didn’t look away from him the whole walk down the hall; Sun stopped in the doorway of his bedroom. “Do whatever you want, Moonie. Just remember that the consequences of your actions always have a second person to reap them.”

The door slammed. Moon gave it a moment before he released the breath he’d been holding. He picked his hoodie up from the couch and fished his phone out of the pocket, checking to see the message he’d been expecting.

Starlight: Are you walking me home again tomorrow?

Despite himself, he smiled.

Dont’t I always?

Starlight: Maybe you could stay a little longer then, too?

The smile broadened.

Maybe.

***

[perseidlion]

So for no reason in particular, here's a master list of my Dead Boy Detectives fic.

Cat and Ghost - M, 40k. (Catwin, casefic, Sandman crossover, post-canon)

A few months after their return to London from Port Townsend, the Cat King shows back up in Edwin’s life. He’s bent on courting Edwin, and has somehow acquired a magical collar that allows them to properly feel each other. Edwin meets him in secret, unsure of whether he’s ready to tell Charles about the relationship.

In the meantime, business at the Dead Boy Detective Agency continues. They receive a case where a woman is trapped between life and death, tethered between the mortal realm and the beyond by a cursed sorcerer.

But there may be more going on than meets the eye, and an Endless pulling strings from the shadows…

Through a Mirror, Darkly - M, ongoing 25k as of Aug 31. Updating 1-2 times weekly. Sequel to Cat and Ghost. Continued Catwin + developing Cricketcrow. Casefic.

It's been a few months since Edwin, Charles and Crystal left Port Townsend after the death of their friend Niko. They've done their best to move on. In the meantime, they've matched wits with Desire of the Endless, and Edwin has started dating the Cat King.

Cat's gift of a spirit mirror offers the boys a chance to speak to Niko again - if she is indeed on the other side.

Bonus: A short fic, The Human Bargain fits in this continuity (between Cat and Ghost and Through a Mirror, Darkly) where the Cat King teaches Monty how to transform into a human again.

Daydreamers - M, complete, 3.6k. My contribution to the Payneland first kiss genre.

Ghosts can't sleep, but they can daydream. Those daydreams sometimes bring revelations.

Love in Red and Blue - T, complete, 1.5k. Niko and Edwin friendship short.

Niko and Edwin have a movie night and watch Red, White & Royal Blue. The movie unearths feelings in Edwin and Niko supports him.

Warning: spoilers for the RWRB movie in this! If you haven't seen the film, you probably won't be confused but also probably won't fully get Edwin's reactions!

Your Body or Mine? - M, complete, 36k. Multishipping (Payneland and Catwin focus), pre-poly bodyswap fic.

Edwin and Charles are granted a 'Hall Pass' from Lost and Found that allows them to become human again for a limited time. They were warned not to mess with the spell, but curiosity got the better of them. The spell goes wrong. Instead of ending up as human versions of themselves, they end up in each others' bodies - with the others' tastes and proclivities.

They must pretend to be each other as long as they're human, lest Lost and Found discover they tampered with the Hall Pass.

The Legacy of Edwin Payne - T, complete, 2.1k. Alternate universe fic where Edwin and Charles both live and meet for a brief window at the end of Edwin's life.

It's 1989. Charles Rowland is about to be sent off to boarding school by his abusive father. Before he can be sent away, the police catch his father abusing his mother and arrest him.

An elderly gentleman, Edwin Payne, who lives in Charles' neighbourhood, consoles him as his mother is being tended to.

CW: Domestic/spousal abuse. Referenced but not seen.

---

I have at least a half dozen other ideas for stories, both short and long. I have no intention of stopping writing anytime soon.

[karlachismylife]

Oof I feel that chronically I'll ask, except mine is chronic pain in my hips, I have to take pain meds before work or else I'm dead by the end of the day.

I can never fully get comfortable due to the amount of pressure in my hips and back there is due to it. I feel like 141 would help me actually pop and crack everything I need to though.

I think I would scare them with how loud it is tho, I managed to half crack my back once and my partner thought a bone literally broke with how loud and crunchy it was

Ouchhh, I'm so sorry to hear that, love, that sounds like hell to go through every day, hip pain is a bitch...

They totally would do it for you. I feel like Ghost and Gaz would be best, Gaz is just too fucking smart and knows what to do, plus he's sooo good at distracting you from the momentary discomfort, you know, just sweettalking you and stroking your back to ease the tension, and then CRACK. Boom, you're already better. And Ghost is very methodical, he's done his research, he's got very capable hands, he'll do it quickly and probably be a bastard about the sounds you make. I bet he's used to popping his own fucked up joints and bones into place, with his solo missions and his back story, so he doesn't get spooked by it, he'll just call you Nutcracker or something. Especially because his just don't crack that loud for some reason, okay, Mr Stealth.

I bet Price's back makes same noise. He's not an old man, I know, but I just think his back is messed up (hense that little stretch he does constantly), so the morning in your household starts with a percussion improvisation from your joints ><

Soap's the one who gets freaked out. Probably because he's actually barely had any fractures, especially full ones (i am yet to meet and ADHDer who had broken a single bone, i swear, we're somehow avoiding it at all costs), so he's only used to hearing it from people he does this to in combat, and sounds AWFUL LOT SIMILAR. So he'll be just chewing on his snack and then Ghost comes up to you from behind to give you a quick fix cuz he noticed you get uncomfortable in your posture, and Soap's like ??? YE BROKE OOR BONNIE YE SICK BASTART???

[pollsonmorenichetopics]

Disproportionate Retribution Poll Semifinals Side B:

Danny Fenton's (Danny Phantom) Disproportionate Retribution:

"He cheated on a test and as a result his entire family, all his friends, and the one teacher who genuinely cared about him died in a fast food explosion. He was adopted by his greatest enemy, who he convinced to separate the ghost and human halves of himself to try and lessen the pain, which in retrospect feels a lot like a form of assisted suicide for people who are already dead.

His ghost half killed the human half, fused with his enemy's ghost half, and used their combined power to destroy the entire world. His current fate is indefinite imprisonment in a container the size of a soup thermos. Because he cheated on a test."

"Crime: Cheated on an ungraded test

Punishment: LITERALLY ALL OF HIS FAMILY AND FRIENDS ARE KILLED (during a parent teacher meeting at a fast food restaurant?), he's forcibly adopted by his "rival" (aka the adult man who has repeatedly tortured this 14 year old because he wants to kill Danny's dad and marry his mom) only to have his literal humanity ripped out of him- his ghost fuses with his enemy's ghost half, turns evil, and then VIOLENTLY KILLS HUMAN DANNY (and then destroys the entire world)

Sounds excessive? Yeah! Sure, it could just be tragic coincidences so far, but stick with me. We're going to reset the timeline, we can make this better, right???:

TIMELINE 2:

Crime: THOUGHT ABOUT cheating on an UNGRADED test

Punishment: The Master of Time sends ghosts from the future to ASSASSINATE HIM, then is sent to EXECUTE DANNY HIMSELF (BECAUSE CHEATING ON THE TEST IS THE DIRECT CAUSE OF THE END OF THE WORLD APPARENTLY), but then he THROWS DANNY TEN YEARS INTO THE FUTURE OF THE PREVIOUS TIMELINE TO BE FACED WITH HIS ABSOLUTE WORST FEARS MADE REAL: the entire world was ended by HIM, everyone he's ever loved is DEAD, he was told of everything that happened in this timeline including the forcible adoption and his own death at his own ghost's hands, evil future ghost him TORTURES HIM AND TAKES AWAY HIS ONLY MEANS OF GOING HOME, THEN REPLACES HIM AND TRIES TO MURDER HIS FAMILY to ensure the bad future! Meanwhile Danny is being pummeled by the future versions of his rogues gallery because they think he's the evil version that destroyed their afterlives. Anyway he makes it back eventually (after his rival RIPS THE THING TRAPPING HIM OUT OF HIS CHEST WITH A DEVICE THAT COULD KILL HIM) and his family been captured by this impostor wearing his face, and after fighting for his life he finds out he was too late and HAS TO WATCH EVERYONE HE'S EVER LOVED EXPLODE RIGHT IN FRONT OF HIM. Of course then the Master of Time shows up, says it was all a lesson, then resets the timeline to before the test again, leaving Danny with all the memories of what happened to traumatize him into confessing he willingly "stole" the test answers (which he didn't even do, they ended up in his possession due to an accident that only happened BECAUSE HE WAS DEFENDING HIMSELF FROM ONE OF THE FUTURE GHOSTS SENT TO KILL HIM) because he was fully intending to cheat on the test (again, false- his friends accuse and berate him for planning to cheat before he even considered it, which he later only thought about seemingly because he was already being treated as a criminal and he had no time to study since he was busy DEFENDING HIMSELF FROM GHOSTS SENT TO KILL HIM SUPPOSEDLY TO PREVENT THIS SITUATION), because of course that's a proportionate response

Why it's over the top: In what world is physical and psychological torture, kidnapping, repeated attempted murder, permanently traumatizing a child, making them absolutely terrified of themself and setting them up to be their own worst fear, and MORE a reasonable response to ANYTHING, much less a 14 year old kid (who just wants to keep people safe) accidentally acquiring the answer key to an ungraded test?!"

Jason Todd's (Batman/DC comics) Disproportionate Retribution:

"Crime 1: (metatextually it was being a child/boring/annoying/not Dick Grayson/whatever) being suspected of murder, running away, naivety/disobedience (in an attempt to save his surprise mother)

Punishment: (metatextually: vote to kill) fired, sold out by his mother, tortured by the Joker, blown up, and eventual death via smoke inhalation

Out of proportion: it is sooooo likely that he didn't even kill that guy in the first place. He was also like. A 15 year old boy at the time. Also just out of proportion on account of being child death and torture. He comes back later, which later leads to.

Crime 2: non-fatally shooting a crime boss, but being suspected of murder about it AGAIN

Punishment: getting the brakes beat off of him by his dad

Out of proportion: A: he was following the rules. B: Batman should have verified what was going on BEFORE doing anything. C: That's his DAD

Crime 3: at least he actually killed people

Punishment: (basically a) lobotomy via fear toxin

Out of proportion: it's non-consensual body/function modification. Any spike in adrenaline lead to a panic attack (you know what also causes adrenaline spikes? Fear/panic.). Comic book science was the only thing saving him from a heart attack. Even outside of that, being unable to properly fight or flee nearly got him killed again anyway. Not to mention it was Bruce back at it (in an altered state, but still)

Yes he committed actual crimes/did bad shit but literally some of the worst stuff happens when he does the LEAST. Worse people also get less for more."

[rendoa-blog]

Ghosts of the past!

Pssst, you can ignore this, but I wanna share it with you guys because I think you might enjoy it @ancha-aus @spotaus

Also, @mortallydarkbird , get your ass in here. You're reading this whether you like it or not.

"Nightmare, King of Negativity, Rulers of Emotion (mind the plural), is a prominent figure in the multiverse. He and his group are not... feared? They are respected and work under... a merciful deity. Huh. That seems... wrong, somehow. Ink truly does not understand why it feels that way. With the information he has been provided with, nothing about this looks off. So... what is making it feel like this???"

OR

I, Myeba, share the great ideas of my mind! So! Because I don't know how to word this properly other than BadSans(+Dream)-centric! Let's just go and list some facts about this!

So, what's wrong here?

Dream! Dream is what's wrong here!

This Nightmare is haunted by the undead spirit of his petrified twin!

Dream never got out of stone, his petrified body, overgrown with moss and greenery in some spots, stays in Nightmares private garden with their dead mother. (The castle is built atop the apple hill in Dreamtale, the destroyed, deserted village of their youth rebuilt and repopulated under their rule.)

Nightmares garden isn't the only area of the castle blocked off to everyone else. Every single room with a window that has a view into it is also forbidden, together with their connecting corridors. Dream stays there during the day.

Dream is, and will stay, a child. He lacks a physical form he can use due to being petrified, and because of it, Nightmare is forced to be a voice for both of them. That is also the reason for the title of Rulers of Emotion being plural, even if there is no one, but these two, who knows why it's like that. Dream is still the one who decides on things regarding positivity as he stays by Nightmare during any meeting that could require his presence.

When Nightmare goes to sleep, his spirit leaves his body while it rests. This spirit is also 6 years old and lacks half his skull. Nightmare did grow up naturally, though, even if he still looks like a child as a spirit due to unfortunate circumstances (cough basically death). Nightmare and Dream walk around the castle and cause slight shenanigans during this. They're mostly Dreams fault.

Dust can see ghosts and spirits occasionally, but they have not figured out how it happens. He has seen Dream and Nightmare running around the castle during his first few weeks when Nightmare didn't know about that. Dust is aware that something there is haunted and he thinks it's the castle itself, since he's never seen the spirits outside. He stopped seeing Nightmare entirely (because Nightmare is avoiding him), but still catches glints of Dream every once in a while when Nightmare isn't with him.

Killer and Horror know about the children as well because Dust has told them about them. They also know that Nightmare knows something, but they have been unsuccessful in getting the answers.

Cross is also there, but he's been in the group for far shorter so he doesn't know about Dream yet.

...They call the kids Yellow and Purple because they have no other way of addressing them. Dust has tried to communicate multiple times but Dream runs away every time due to being noticed.

Dream wants to befriend the group and spend time with them, especially when Dust shows up and actually sees him. Nightmare doesn't trust them enough for that.

The group has something akin to familial bonds, but Nightmare strictly excludes himself from it. He tries to be cold and distant. They know its a mask though. ...not Cross though. Cross doesn't and fully believes it because of past experiences.

Ink and Error are just 2 toddlers fighting over who gets to play with the pretty glittery pony, except the pony is attention and it usually ends with casualties. That is literally all I have about them.

Swap never left home! He's happily in his AU and while yeees he does know who Ink is and what the AUs are because the squid crash landed in his timeline one time (...or multiple times...many, many times.) he is not involved in anything concerning the multiverse.

Nightmare just collects unfortunate souls that remind him a bit too much of himself, victims of circumstance that didn't get a different choice if they wanted to survive.

The castle itself has many floral and nature inspired patterns in the stone. It is also heavily covered by plants anywhere that aren't accessible to those who don't live there, with some exceptions where it would make the room useless. Many corridors have vine ceilings or plants on the wall, but the kitchen, for example, only has a few controlled herbs in specific spots on and in the walls. The flora also doesn't even try to reach into private areas such as their bedrooms unless specifically encouraged to do so. (ex. Nightmares room) The group mostly doesn't want the plants there, though.

The entire group was pretty surprised when they moved in, because this was not what they expected, especially Cross who was very used to the formal and perfect visual that the part of the castle accessible to guests showed.

[aprocessionofthoughts]

Freedom

whumptober24 day 16- necrosis, wound cleaning fandom- dp x dc tw- none summary- Danny is finally free

masterlist ao3 part 9 of ITR

Danny woke up somewhere that wasn’t the warehouse. He barely had any strength left, but he managed to look around. He was in what looked like a hospital room. He had only just started to panic when the door was flung open and Sam and Tucker rushed in.

“Danny!” they called together.

He smiled weakly. “Hey, guys.”

He grunted as they both wrapped their arms around him. “Can’t breathe.” he wheezed.

“Not like you need to.” Sam muttered, but they both eased off.

“It’s still nice to do.” Danny responded.

Sam scowled at him. “How dare you scare us like that. Daniel James Nightingale.”

Danny’s expression softened. “Sorry.”

“We’re just glad you’re alright Danny.” Tucker said, giving Sam a pointed look. She sighed, looking at the ground.

“Glad you’re not dead.”

“Well, deader at least.” Tucker said, smirking.

It was quiet for a moment, then Danny sighed, closing his eyes. 

“How much do they know?”

“We told them you were liminal.” Sam said. 

“Though we’re pretty sure the sad trenchcoat man and the bat furry don’t fully believe us.” Tucker said.

“It doesn’t matter. You don’t have to tell them anything, Danny.” Sam said.

Danny opened his eyes, glancing down at the bandages over his chest. “Do you know what he… what he carved into…”

Sam laid her hand over his. “It was a runic sequence. They sewed the wounds closed and bandaged you up, but we should probably still go see Frostbite. He used blood blossoms.”

“I know.” 

They were quiet another moment. 

“Maybe we should tell them.” Danny said. “They’re going to notice when my wounds don’t heal properly, and you both know that blood blossoms cause necrosis if not treated properly.”

They winced, and Tucker bit his lip while Sam scowled.

“This is your secret, Danny, whatever you decide we’ll be here for you.” Tucker said, and Sam nodded.

“Yes. And if they do anything wrong we’ve got plenty of blackmail material to keep them quiet. Tucker already hacked their systems, and I’ve got several ghosts on call.” Sam said.

Danny started to laugh before wincing in pain. “Yeah. I think we need to tell them something, before we go to Frostbite. I’m stable right now, but it would be best to get to the Far Frozen soon.” He paused. “What about the Anti-Ecto Act?” he whispered.

“They’re working on them.” Sam said.

“They are.” Tucker said. “I’ve been keeping track of their progress. They’ve got the GIW on hold for now, and it’s only a matter of time before they’re dissolved completely. There’s already drafts for laws that will go toward protecting ghosts. And…” Tucker glanced at Danny, “it would probably help if they had someone who could explain things better. Especially considering you’re going to be in charge one day.”

Danny rolled his eyes. “That’s a long time away. It’s not going to happen till I reach my natural death and then I’ll still have one hundred years to learn and train before taking the position.”

“We know. But you’ve still got connections that could help make the process of drafting the new laws easier. It would also help to establish relations early on.” Sam said.

Danny nodded reluctantly. “Alright, but we aren’t going to tell them about my status or anything.”

“Agreed.” Sam and Tucker said.

“Alright then,” Danny sighed again, “let the Bat in. I’m sure he’s the most curious.”

—

Batman walked into the room a half hour later.

“Hello, Mr. Nightingale. I am glad you appear to be recuperating.”

“Yeah. Thanks for helping out with my rescue.”

Batman inclined his head slightly.

“I assume you have questions.” Danny said not quite meeting Batman’s eyes.

“Yes.”

Danny sighed. “First of all, were you able to capture the cultist?”

“Yes. After you were rescued we were able to use a spell to locate where you had come from. Alfrus Bane is now in custody and the artifact he used has been locked up by Constantine.” Batman paused before continuing. “We are also making good progress on taking down the Anti-Ecto Acts. Rest assured the government will no longer be able to touch you… or anyone else who may be like you.”

Danny nodded. “Thank you.” He sighed. “My friends told you I was liminal, death touched.” Danny paused before deciding to just charge forward quickly. “That’s true but also not. I’m a bit more liminal than most. That’s why the artifact was able to control me. It happened once before and I was able to destroy that particular artifact. I would like this one to be destroyed as well. To keep others safe.”

“I will talk to Constantine about it, but I do not guarantee anything.”

Danny nodded. “Do you know of the Infinite Realms?”

“No.”

“It’s a place between dimensions, between realms. Imagine it like a sandwich. The bread is the dimensions and the stuff inside the sandwich is the Infinite Realms, except that the Realms connects all dimensions. There are creatures that live there, often called ghosts though not all of them are the consciousnesses of dead people.”

“And the GIW were after all the residents of this Realm?”

“Yes. You can see how the Acts could be catastrophic. If enough people from the Realms suffered at the hands of the GIW, they could have decided to attack.”

Batman stiffened. “I see. We shall make sure to dismantle the Acts and the GIW quickly and be sure they face the consequences for their actions. Is there someone… from the Realms who we could seek out to make amends with and possibly create a treaty?”

Danny suppressed a grimace. “There is. I can help get you in contact with them once I get better.”

Batman nodded. “Is there anything else you wish to tell me?”

Danny nodded. “There is, but I need to seek medical help first.”

“Is there anything else we can provide?”

“No.” Danny said, shaking his head. “The nature of my injuries means I need to seek help in the Infinite Realms. I will go there, and when I get better I can come back and explain things more thoroughly as well as get you in contact with someone from the Realms.”

“That would be greatly appreciated.” Batman inclined his head towards him. “I wish you a speedy recovery, Mr. Nightingale.” 

“Thanks.” 

“Contact me when you are better.”

“I will.” 

Danny sighed as Batman left. That went okay, but he still wasn’t looking forward to having to explain things more. And he was dreading having to approach Batman as an ambassador or something of the Infinite Realms.

Oh well. He was free. He closed his eyes and let himself feel it for the first time since he woke up. He was free. Everything else could wait till he was better.