#I’m so sad about her death man :(

[siblingshuffle]

Day 12: Regret.

This is a snippet of Sibling Shuffle’s version of Spiritus Ex Machina!

And the theme is regret!

This isn’t very happy. I mean, we’re talking about a mother who was so scared of losing her child that she technically killed her herself and is now confronting that choice. Of course it is.

It’s also a little longer than normal, so be forewarned! ————————

“Speaking of robot girls,” Dr. Light mentioned, “Blues has been very excited to see Tempo again. Did you bring her with you?”

Dr. LaLinde froze, the mirth melting from her expression “…Right… of course…” she murmured, averting eye contact as she turned around. After a moment, she led a girl who appeared to be around Blues’s age to the group, seeming more melancholic than before. “…Quake Woman,” she addressed the girl, “You remember Dr. Light and Blues…”

‘Quake Woman?’ Roll wondered. The girl was clearly a Robot Master, yes - Roll’s sensors didn’t give any indication that she was organic whatsoever - but Blues and Dr. Light had been referring to her by the name “Tempo”.

“Yes. Hello,” Tempo-- Quake Woman-- whichever, waved. The movement was strangely stiff, with no discernible emotion behind it. 

“Why’s she calling you your Robot Master name?” Blues asked, smiling confusedly as he waved back. “You’re not working right now, are you?”

“I am not. However, ‘Quake Woman’ is my name. I am a geological surveyor robot,” Quake Woman responded. Her voice was… strange. It lacked inflection, but it sounded as though it had been designed with a range of emotions in mind. In fact, now that she thought of it, Roll hadn’t noticed her making any obvious facial expressions, either…

Blues nodded slowly, his expression faltering as though unsure of himself. He shook it off so quickly, however, that Roll had to wonder if she had imagined it, “Uh, okay…? I’d like you to meet my little sister, Roll. Roll, meet Tem— Quake Woman, my best friend.”

“Hi!” Roll grinned, extending a hand to shake. “Blues told me a lot about you!”

Quake Woman took her hand, but, looking at Blues, said, “Your statement is illogical.”

Roll blinked, tilting her head and staring at the girl. “…What do you mean?”

“Blues referred to you as his ‘sister,’” Quake Woman responded matter-of-factly. “That statement is illogical. Robots cannot have familial relations.”

Blues stared at Quake Woman, baffled. “What…?” He asked, glancing over at Dr. LaLinde as though expecting answers from her. “...Dr. LaLinde?”

Dr. LaLinde didn’t look at him.

“…Quake Woman…required some adjustments. She’s fine.”

“…What kind of ‘adjustments’?” demanded Blues, his voice low and apprehensive as he studied Dr. LaLinde’s expression, his eyes searching for something that he couldn’t seem to find.

Dr. LaLinde swallowed, biting her lower lip. Her voice was tight when she next spoke. “…I…I’ll…let you get reacquainted.”

With that, she stepped away into the crowd. Roll’s gaze followed her, noticing how stiff her posture was. And with how abruptly she had left… something was definitely wrong.

Dr. Light placed a hand on Blues’ shoulder. “I’ll be right back,” he told him before running after her.

Blues just stared numbly in the direction the two roboticists had disappeared to. Hesitantly, Roll reached out her hand to him, but Blues withdrew, pulling his scarf up to his cheeks and turning around sharply. Before Roll could stop him, he slipped away into the crowd in the opposite direction, leaving Roll and Quake Woman alone.

————————————————————————

“Noele, wait,” Dr. Light called out, catching her by the arm before she could lose him. She stopped but didn’t turn to face him. “What’s going on? Tempo - and you, as well- are acting strangely,” Dr. Light eventually asked, a mix of concern and confusion coloring his expression.

Dr. LaLinde still didn't turn to face him. “…You have a lot of people you should catch up with, and there’s not a lot of time to do it before you have to be onstage for the debate,” she said, her voice tight.

Dr. Light nodded. “You’re right, but that can wait,” he insisted. “Something’s going on with you.”

Dr. LaLinde took a shaky breath. When she turned towards him, her eyes were more tired and sad than he’d ever seen them before.

“You know that you can talk to me, right? Any time that you need me, I’m here for you,” he offered gently, taking her hands in his. His eyes were filled with a warmth that could melt the sturdiest of defenses - a familiar, understanding, comforting warmth, but one that burned if Dr. LaLinde tried to look directly into.

Dr. LaLinde extricated hands from Dr. Light’s.

“Thomas, I know you mean well, but…” she shook her head. “…nothing is wrong.”

“…You’re sure?” Dr. Light asked, his voice soft. He knew Dr. LaLinde was brilliant, the dark circles under her eyes made him wonder how much sleep she had been losing as of late.

Dr. LaLinde inhaled sharply, but nodded, though her eyes remained downcast. “I’ll see you at the debate, Tom.”

Dr. Light watched her leave again, a sense of helplessness, concern, and worry pressing down on him.

Dr. Light couldn’t help but reflect on the LaLindes he had known before - the vibrant, happy family that only nominally resembled the lifeless one he’d just met. It seemed impossible to reconcile the two, yet he knew they were one in the same.

Dr. Light sighed deeply, his hand combing through his beard, his mind racing with questions and concerns. The loudest question of all, though, was this: what happened to the LaLinde’s?

————————————————————————

Story Notes:

My autocorrect tried to call this segment “Sorry Notes” and I think that’s kinda fitting lol

I know you guys know what happened, and furthermore that Dr. LaLinde had sympathetic reasons. However. No one else does at this point on the timeline. All they know is that Dr. LaLinde seems sadder than normal and Tempo isn’t emoting at all. And it’s freaking Blues TF out—

Dr. LaLinde mostly keeps her reasoning to herself because of grief & guilt & regret (as well as the narrative reason of “it makes for a better story if we don’t learn her reasoning until the timing it took canonically”)

DISCLAIMER: Dr. LaLinde is a very compelling character to me! I like that she’s a flawed parent trying her best! In fact, I like all of the LaLinde’s! They’re awesome characters and fantastic foils that I could go on for hours analyzing if I had the time! That aside, though, Dr. LaLinde is a foil to Dr. Light just as much as Tempo is to the Light kids. They’re both parents who care deeply about their kids and would do anything to protect them. The thing is, Dr. LaLinde took it too far by removing the possibility for Tempo to feel anything at all, pain included, and ended up hurting herself and others in the process.

This is a snippet from before any of the Healing Journey character arc starts - she misses her Tempo, yes, but she can’t really bring herself to admit that she was wrong quite yet. Surely it’s better that she removed the part that was her child but kept the part that was a tool. Surely then it would hurt less. Surely it’s better to feel nothing than to feel pain. She must be doing the right thing. She doesn’t know what she’d do if she were not.

Can you imagine having to re-introduce your newly-emotionless child to your child’s former best friend though. Can you imagine that.

I didn’t write it in here (because it would end up turning into a whole novelization of the Sibling Shuffle version if the first comic in this arc by that point), but Blues is so distracted that he ends up knocking over Kalinka and meeting the Cossacks in a way that is similar to the original story, just with the Cossacks not getting to catch up with Dr. Light quite yet.

Everyone ends up present for the debate, with Roll meeting Kalinka when they sit next to each other. Blues ends up storming out of the lecture hall after connecting a couple dots, and from there the Emerald Spears attack.

————————————————————————

Art Notes:

Reference: Tempo’s introductory panel.

Someone pointed out that her eyes half-lidded “made her look high” so I just didn’t make her eyes shiny instead. This is a serious emotional scene lol

Lowered the color saturation & brightness slightly to play more into the mood

[sm0lcatfish]

can we talk about the ending to shubble’s afterlife series?? please??

like yes, mechanically, she lost her tenth life. she jumped and died from fall damage. but that’s not how she ended the story.

shulk shubble (shulkble?) had just witnessed the death of the only other person properly remaining, the inverse of herself, shadow joey/shadow boy/shadow 2.0. the last thing she wanted to do was watch the sunset and have a picnic, the one thing she endlessly craved on her first life back when she was the shadow.

“everybody’s kind of.. long gone and dead. onto the next… life. after-afterlife?”

“…i don’t really know what comes next.”

and then she simply vanishes. she simply says this is goodbye, and then the camera is obscured by a stray leaf and she’s gone. it’s quiet, there’s just the sound of the wind as it goes dark.

she always loved watching the sun.

[thencomethecherryblossoms]

Barbie Hsu :(

[cyarsk52-20]

let me know when y’all ready to start stoning Da Baby for his involvement in Tory’s harassment again Megan. he willfully still antagonizes her to this day which is weird and obsessive.

[torawro]

i am having fun rewatching bleach, and i honestly don’t remember it being this emotional & deep so early on?????????

[graham--folger]

yall. wtf

[cybergoth1]

can you do some Jason Todd as a husband headcannon pls !! i just know that when he’s healed , he’s hauling his partner and getting TF out of Gotham , and popping out babies (GIRLDAD) and a nice job in a low-key town and maybe becomes a househusband 😋🤭(for real i’m 100% sure he would) but at the same time he is The Jason Todd . Hot , mysterious , emotional but also not , a big fat nerd in a brick body .

you know your daddy's home.

pairing: jason todd x fem!reader.

warnings/tags: fluffy, pre established relationship. my silly drabble about raising a daughter with jason todd. girl dad jason todd. husband jason todd.

author's note: hey babe i turned it into a drabble! hope you don't mind it!

"look, mommy! i'm batman!”

you suppressed a chuckle as you watched your five-year-old daughter standing tall on the couch, wearing a paper mask poorly shaped like batman’s cowl. the little girl came home from school, talking non-stop about the vigilant and refusing to take off her paper mask, even during lunch time, excitedly repeating what her teacher had said about nowday heroes.

"gotham needs me!"

she was trying to make her voice deeper as she jumped onto the floor. the cats, startled by the noise on the wooden floor, bolted away in a stampede.

"you're too pretty to be batman, baby girl".

your husband jason said as he stepped out of the bathroom. the scent of soap and shaving lotion lingered in the air as he walked down the hallway in just his sweatpants. his scars seemed more visible, glistening under the light as drops of water trailed down his bare back and chest.

“but how do you know what he looks like? he's always wearing a mask!” her childish voice rang out indignantly.

he picked her up effortlessly with one hand, while the other gently tugged the paper mask aside to look into her bright blue eyes — blue like his had been before the lazarus pit. her nose, mouth and ears were just like yours, a glimpse of you both in her youthful face.

"he sounds ugly, like a very old sad man. unlike you, princess".

"i'm not a princess, i'm vengeance!"

you laughed behind the stove.

"well, vengeance," he said, walking toward the apartment’s kitchen with her tiny legs wrapped around his hips "you can save gotham after eating your vegetables," he added with a smirk, putting her on the high chair.

she looked at him with wide eyes, as if he’d just handed her a death sentence.

"broccoli?"

"broccoli".

you placed the plate of food in front of her, the broccoli standing out between the rice and meat like a tiny, green nightmare. she looked up at you with pleading eyes, silently appealing to your good side.

you stroked her hair gently.

"if you don’t eat, i'll have to tell batman that his sidekick isn’t eating properly. you can't patrol without eating broccoli," he said, pulling out the chair to sit beside her. that was more than enough. with a disgusted expression, she began to eat, occasionally poking at the broccoli.

"hi, jay," you said, placing your hands on his broad shoulders and giving him a light massage. he softly kissed your left hand before looking up at you.

"how’s my other girl doing?" he asked with a smile, his lips still lingering against your hand. your daughter was so focused on hating the broccoli that she didn’t even notice the display of affection. normally, she would’ve made a gagging noise, followed by a dramatic, “bleh!”.

"she's missing you a lot" you said kissing the top of his head. a familiar scent makes you pause for a moment.

"you're using my shampoo again, aren't you?"

"maybe?"

©cybergoth1, 2025

[gothamcitycentral]

Dr. Phosphorus is almost contradictory to himself in a way I find notable.

Assuring Nina with, “I know you can do this, kid.” A term of endearment slipping in, fitting an interaction between a once-father and a young woman who’s spent the overwhelming majority of her adult life locked away and isolated in prison.

Perhaps too endearing, as he quickly undercuts it with “Did it sound like I gave a shit?”

When Weasel jeopardizes the mission, he grabs him in anger, yelling, “You stupid rat!”

But he doesn’t actually try to hurt Weasel. He only got burned once he sunk his teeth too deep into Phosphorus.

Then there’s this scene, where this obviously just him joking around, right? Just him being his sardonic self.

But then later, he seems genuinely offended that Flag is angry with him. That Flag should have taken his actions as a favor between ‘friends’. As if he’s actually a little desperate to be liked by the man he was fighting with not that long ago.

(I mean, as a smaller example, his interactions with Nosferata jump from him insulting her to playing freaking ping pong with her)

Then there’s his recurring dynamic with Bride. Despite the ‘I’m a killer who doesn’t care about anything’ idea of himself he pushes, Phosphorus continuously tries to interact with her. Making remarks for her to find amusing, remaking on their bleak situation for her to join in on. It’s like he saw the first person in so long to really acknowledge him in anything close to a meaningful way (“Are you smiling?” “Yes!” “Sarcastically?” “Mm-hm.”) and decided he wasn’t going to let that high just go away.

Even after the mission failed, he tries to push himself as the annoyed, angered man. Angered at Weasel, angered at Nina’s death, angered at their efforts all being for nothing.

But then he’s the only person to comfort Bride in her mourning.

I think these conflicting traits, the outward expression versus the sincerity that slips through, are most well shown during Wonderlust King. Still in the wake of his family’s death (not that it ever ended for him), during his era as a crime boss, he tries to satiate the sadness in himself.

He dances in the Ice Lounge, a display of his power and his wealth for all its attendees to bear.

But then misses dancing with his wife at their wedding, a display of their love for all gathered to behold.

He tries to gain satisfaction through inflicting violence onto others.

But then only misses the love he shared with Parvin.

He tries to fill the hole in his heart with riches.

But it’s meaningless in comparison.

Dr. Phosphorus thought Alex Sartorius died the night he was born, I feel, but despite his own best wishes, he’s still there, the loving man who only wanted to help people he once was.

[sammydem0n64]

The whole plot of Crumbled! (at least the main plot since several characters aren’t. Involved in that. Funny side plots and characters baby!) is how organized crime affects people, inside of it and out. It’s how members of the mob don’t have anything else they can do in life aside from the life of crime, it’s how the general public are harmed by organized crime even if they aren’t being targeted personally, it’s how being a member of this lifestyle can destroy or build your relationships, it’s how no one is pure evil or pure good, it’s the complexity of people while also being about The Horrors.

No one here faces “traditional consequences” to their actions, aside from a few. Hershey doesn’t go to jail, Donna doesn’t die, etc etc. This is a story that doesn’t need those consequences. From day 1 you know these characters are doing horrible things, and at the same time these characters learn and fully comprehend they’re doing bad things. The most they get as “traditional retribution” is how some of their personal relationships are affected. Aside from that, these fuckers dont NEED what the masses would deem a traditional consequence because the entire fucking plot is them going through the horrors because of their actions! Being in the mafia and seeing and doing horrible things while having to just live with it is a pretty damn good “consequence” to me! Melphis doesn’t need to go to jail because “he needs to suffer the consequences of his actions” when every single damn day he suffers‼️

Even if Cheon’s family isn’t destroyed, even if the Oreona family doesn’t ostracize it’s members that are criminals, even if the extremes aren’t reached in these “consequences” there’s still a damn effect!!! But at the end of the day like I said these guys suffer the consequences of their actions constantly so they don’t need jail time or death or anything like that oh my god. And if you think that’s wrong and makes me romanticize, endorse or fucking glorify the mafia because Melphis doesn’t get locked up and only two members of the Oreo Gang die in the end then OHHHHHH GROW UP‼️ GROW UP‼️‼️

[gghostwriter]

Death of a Love Affair

Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader

Summary: The three times you understood and the final time you couldn’t.

Warning: angst with no happy ending

A/n: this felt oddly personal to me this is my first time writing in the Y/N perspective and in a one shot format so please be kind. I kinda left a possibly for p2, not sure about that yet, but let me know if that’s something you’d be interested in!

Main masterlist || Part 2A (happy end) || Part 2B (sad end)

The first time it happened, you completely understood. 

You had an inkling as to what you were getting into when you started dating a 187 genius who graduated at a young age and who was scouted straight from college by the FBI. It wasn’t hard to comprehend these external circumstances mixed with his internal need to prove himself worthy of belonging with the big boys would result in missed personal events. It was a given, you expected it.

You just didn’t count on him missing your graduation. After all, he gave his word that he’ll be there to see you walk the stage and receive your diploma. He promised you and yet, as you scanned the crowd of loved ones hugging the attendees, there was no sign of his tie wearing, button up lithe form weaving through the crowd, no sign of his slicked hair, meticulously tucked behind his ears and no sign his doe eyed hazel eyes shining with pride as you joined the ranks of adulthood and unemployment.

You reach for your phone, now finally free from the nerves and adrenaline of going up the stage, with a single unread message from the one you wished to be here with you.

I’m sorry, angel. There’s a case and Gideon needs me. 

You sighed with a mild smile sprouting on your glossed lips as you sent back a reply.

No worries! We can celebrate when you get back. Be safe, I love you.

“Oh honey, I’m so proud of you!” Your mom exclaimed, reaching for a hug. “You graduated and with so many achievements—I mean look at all these cords hanging around your neck!”

You laughed as you stepped out from her warm embrace and watched joyful tears gather under her eyes. “Thanks, Mom! Hopefully all these cords help me get a job soon, huh, or else I’ll be moving back home with you.”

“Oh honey, stop joking! As if I wouldn’t welcome you back with open arms,” she quipped back. 

A hand holding a bouquet of flowers shot up to your face. It was a bundle of your favorite, carnations, in ranges of different colors. 

“Congratulations, lil sis,” your older brother, Trevor, breathed out. “Do I get a hug too or is that just for Mom?” 

You giggled as you stepped into his arms, happy to be sharing this moment with your ever loving protector of a brother, no matter how busy he might be as a head chef for his own highly rated restaurant.

“Hey big brother, thanks for being here,” you mumbled in his tight grasp. “Did you pass along my invite to Dad?” 

You felt him subtly shake his head causing your smile to slightly falter. You knew better than to expect the man who gifted you half of his genes to show up—a workaholic, absentee of a father whose love language was to deposit checks to your bank account from his fattened pockets as a lawyer for the rich. It was the cause of your parents’ separation when you were five years old. The matriarch tired from taking up the mantle as both the paternal and maternal figure for both you and your brother. Your mother exhausted from repeatedly believing broken promises uttered to herself and to her babies.

Having seen first hand how each lie wrapped as an oath chipped a piece of the loving and bright woman who gave birth to you and your brother, you vowed to never let that happen to you. It was a cautionary tale engrained in your mind. A fable—a curse really and in hindsight, you should have seen the markings of history repeating itself.

“Now, where is your nerdy pipe cleaner of a boyfriend?” He asked as he scanned around the vicinity for a sight of Spencer.

You shrugged, genuinely alright with your FBI agent of a boyfriend missing this milestone in your life. “Duty called. But that’s okay, we’ll celebrate when he gets back.” 

A pair of eyes, similar to yours, inquisitively studied you as if making sure there was no hidden hurt behind those words uttered. “If you say so,” he stated, turning to your mother who was smiling at the both of you—her greatest treasures. “Mom, let’s get out of here. I had John prep the kitchen for a feast.” 

You and your mom chattered excitedly at the passenger back seat as Trevor backed the four-door navy sedan out of the parking and drove off to his restaurant for the promised lunch graduation.

———

It was well into the night as you were settling in bed when the tell-tale signs of the main door being unlocked echoed through the dark green walls of his apartment. 

“Spence?” You called out, letting him know that you were there instead of in your own apartment, 30 minutes away. 

More shuffling was heard before the object of your love and affection rounded the bedroom door with a set of his own flowers on hand. He breathed out your name in reverence as he went for a kiss, pleased that he had still caught you awake.

“Congratulations, my love,” he smiled as he pulled away from your soft lips. “These are for you and I’m sorry I couldn’t be there.” 

You smiled back, gladly accepting his apologies and flowers. “It’s all good, Spence. I know how demanding your job is. I missed you.” 

“I missed you too. I told Gideon and Hotch that’ll I’ll be unavailable this weekend. It’s just you and me,” he said as he went in for another kiss, unable to resist any longer. Not long after, his outside clothes and your sleepwear were strewn all around the bedroom floor as both your bodies merged into one and reached a mutual crescendo with your gasps and his groans as the choir. 

***

The second time, you moderately understood.

You noted that the BAU was back in full swing with Gideon being brought back to the saddle after what happened in Boston. As his birthday treat, you both agreed to fly in for the weekend to Vegas to visit his mother at the facility. He never would have gone alone should it not have been for your enthusiasm to come with. You loved talking to Diana about Spencer’s childhood during her good days and you also loved being in her presence still even when she was lost in her teaching past—acting out as a student as you got to hear her lectures about literature. 

The bustling at the airport had you tip toeing up to catch a sight of Spencer, your flight departing in about an hour. It was a late Friday afternoon, travelers were piling in for a weekend trip, and he promised to head straight from the Bureau to the airport to meet you by the entrance. Your head swiveled from left to right, biting your lip as the minutes ticked by with no sign of your boyfriend running towards you.

The phone in your jean pocket rang and your heart slightly dropped at the sight of the caller ID.

“Hey pretty boy,” you greeted, naively wishing that this phone call wasn’t a bearer of bad news. “Are you almost at the airport?” 

There were muffled voices heard in the background. “Uhm—actually—”

You sighed, understanding what he wanted to say. “There’s a case,” you stated as a matter of fact. “It’s alright, Spence. I’ll tell your mom something popped up. No worries.” 

“You—you don’t have to go alone. We can always reschedule,” he suggested, the timber of his voice going up an octave as if he was in a panic at the idea of disappointing you.

“You and I both know Diana’s excited about this trip,” you chuckled as you recalled how her doctor had described his mother’s face lighting up every time she was reminded of the visit. “I’ll go and spend some time with her. Maybe even get her to tell me more embarrassing childhood stories about her perfect boy.”

He lightly laughed at your joke to ease the tension and remorse he was feeling. “I could have told you all of it if you just asked.”

“Well, does it include pictures of you too?” You teased as you were checking in at the counter.

There was a stern voice calling for his name in the background, it was Hotch, you silently guessed. 

“Listen, I have to go. The team is about to give the profile,” he rushed out to inform you. “I’ll see you when we both get back. I love you.” 

The call ended without so much of a chance for you to say it back.

As the plane got ready to take off, your mood continued to further dampen. He promised to go—to you and to his own mother via the phone. An ivy seed of doubt was planted in your mind. Did he try to excuse himself from the case to his boss as some sort of birthday gift? It really didn’t work that way, you knew, with how of a high demand his job is but still, you wondered if his team was informed about the plans for this weekend or were they purposely kept out of the loop. That notion wouldn’t surprise you at the slightest, thinking back. The profilers weren’t even aware of his mother’s state and condition. Hell, they didn’t even know that you existed, a girlfriend of two years, until well into his first year at the BAU. 

Deep down you grasped why he keeps Diana a secret. You were aware of the shame and embarrassment he felt for himself, having had to have her institutionalized by the time he reached the age of eighteen. You got that, didn’t mean you understood it but nonetheless, you respected his decision and was even proud of him for reaching out for professional help no matter how much he viewed that action of his cowardly. But what you weren’t really privy to was really why your relationship was kept in the dark. It could have saved him from Morgan’s incessant ribbing of his inability to pick up women.

During one night where your insecurities got the best of you, you asked in a small voice if he was ashamed of the relationship. He vehemently denied it, repeatedly saying that he just wanted to have a secret solace—a happy home to return to that was untouched by the worst human terrors that he encounters on the daily. That was what you were, he explained, a sunlit luscious reprieve filled with flowers and laughter where he could rest his weary bones from the ravaging, dark waves. His own piece of heaven here on earth. He then kissed your fears away that night, hugged you tight into his chest—the vibrations from his humming lulling you to slumber.

———

“I always knew it would take a special girl to understand my special boy,” Diana mused out loud as you plated a slice of cake for her. 

You blushed, sitting down beside her with your own. “He’s perfect. I wouldn’t trade him for anyone else.” 

She affectionately combed through your hair, similar to how her son would. “Thank you. For visiting and being understanding of his erratic schedule.”

“It’s no problem at all, Diana. I love him, I knew what I was getting into when we started dating.” You stated as the ivy seed of doubt sprouted in your mind—did you really? Did you really understand what you were getting into?

***

The third time, you still tried to understand.

There you were surrounded by the purest celebration of love and matrimony, sans your long-haired, sweater vest wearing plus one. Your brother was getting married to the love of his life, vowing himself to be with her for better, for worse and your other half was in another state catching criminals. Fiddling with the diamond engagement ring adorning your finger, you recalled how you ended up alone, dateless, in this joyous occasion. 

You RSVP’ed with a date when the invitation arrived four months ago. Your brother even calling in to make sure that he, your well-celebrated FBI fiancée, will be able to attend a month before the wedding. You internally scoffed at his repeated checking but in retrospect, maybe he saw the end well before you did. You promised to him, as Spencer did to you, that he’ll be available to watch the union and to save all the slow dances with him. But the day before the wedding, the phone rang for a case in Dallas and you knew what it meant. Without so much of a fight, you kissed him goodbye by the door of his now shared apartment and let the dreary silence enveloped you as you think of how to inform your brother of the new change without hearing the pity and patronization in his voice. 

Nursing a glass of red wine, you watched your brother dance with his newly wedded wife and in your peripheral, you spotted your mother approaching you at the table. 

“Now why are you being such a sourpuss during this festive event?” She chimed out as she pulled a chair beside you. “You should be out there, dancing and getting to know our new extended family.” 

You shrugged, unsure on what to say. She was right, of course. All the guests were enjoying themselves and basking in the warm, infectious glow of the happy couple but you didn’t have the courage in you to mask the despondent emotions inside of you.

Your mother sighed and took your left hand in hers. “You know, when your dad and I were going through the proceedings of the divorce, I had moments when I wanted to back out from it. I loved your father, still holds a piece of my heart till this day, and I thought the small moments of happiness when he was around would be enough to tied me through the days when he wasn’t. I thought those times and our love for you kids were sufficient to keep our love from wilting. If I poured out affection and devotion to the home we once built, it wouldn’t crumble surely. But you know what I forgot—”

You turned to face her somber eyes, looking into yours as if searching for something that seemed to no longer be there. 

“—I forgot to take care of myself. I gave a pieces of me away so willing and so many times that when I reached the end of the marriage, I no longer knew who I was. Where the piece of me started and where it ended. You’re withering, my flower. The vibrant life that I once longed to protect in your eyes is slowly dying. I don’t want you to reach the finish line and not know how you got up there. How you ended up giving all yourself away with not a flower bud left to blossom just for you.” 

You felt your hackles rise to defend the relationship. In hindsight, this was you denying the truth that was staring you right in the face. “It’s not like that with Spencer, Mom. It’s just—the job is hectic and it’s been his forever dream. He had finally started to gain his footing when Gideon and Elle left and then the kidnapping happened and that pushed his progress back a bit. But he’s getting there now. We’re stabilizing and we had a discussion—there’s less broken promises. It’s just that this recent case in Dallas was urgent and they needed the team to solve crime. I don’t want to take him away from the country and the people who needs his help and from his dream of solving crimes. I love him, Mom, in all of his entirety and he deserves all the respect and understanding from me as his partner.” 

She squeezed the hand in hers—the left hand adorning the ring, the material manifestation of his vow to you that you had happily accepted. “I‘ve grown fond of Spencer. I see him as another son of mine but darling, sometimes the love you feel for each other is not enough. A relationship takes continuous work—a task that both individuals must pull in the effort and prioritize. Just think about it,” she stated as she stood up. “Now, no more of this depressing talk and this serious energy from you. Go around, dance with your brother, and enjoy.” 

You mustered up a smile as you proceeded to do just what you were told until your feet were sore from all the dancing. But no matter the joyous occasion, it didn’t stop the realization in the form of ivy from taking roots and slowly covering all corners of your mind. 

***

And the final time, you could no longer understand.

The grandfather clock stationed at the corner of the dimly lit apartment struck at two. Your figure was still dressed in your purple fitted dress as you waited for your soon-to-be other half to walk through the door. It was another night of getting your hopes up and broken promises and you were no longer sure how much you could take before the love you held in your heart festers and turns into resentment. 

You promised yourself you’d never be in a situation that you had seen your mother once be in. You became the careful daughter of a careless man who gave little to no effort to cherish the love a woman had freely given to him. You thought with all your cautiousness and logical thinking, the mistakes of the mother would never be repeated. That was naive thinking—you realized now. By actively being aware of the past, you’d forgotten to look ahead and fell deep into the pitfalls of doing the same as your mother did.

Spencer once mentioned that there was a high divorce rate in his line of duty. How he worried and vowed that you both will never join that rate. And that was a promise he’ll be able to keep, you scoffed to yourself, as you spun the ring on the table.

Another shared piece of information floated to the forefront of your mind. How Haley had recently served Hotch, his unit chief divorce papers. You’ve grown close with her over the years, being the only two constant partners to someone working in the BAU. You’ve seen first hand all the missed milestones in Haley’s and Jack’s life as her husband flew around the country with the cavalry, saving the innocent one case at a time. Never taking the time to realize that the once solid foundation of their marriage was crumbling down with every flight he took. Similar to what was happening in the doctor’s own home. 

A set of keys unlatched the mahogany door and a fresh batch of florals were the first that entered through, followed by Spencer looking sheepish as he noted your presence by the sofa. “Angel, I’m so sorry I missed your promotion dinner.” 

Silence greeted him as he stumbled to get to where you were. “Carnations for you.” 

Tears started to form under your eyes. You didn’t want to break but the reality of your decision was setting in. You wanted to falter, to change your mind, to give him another chance but you knew you couldn’t. You’ve given too much of your understanding away and you doubted you have any more to give to this beautiful man who once promised to make you his top priority. 

“I can’t accept them, Spencer.” 

His eyebrows furrowed and his body tensing as if sensing the finality behind your words. “Why not? They’re your favorite.” 

“They are but—” you took a deep breath, steeling your resolve. “—I think we should stop.” 

“W-what? No. No, please,” he stammered out as his own set of tears started flooding his eyes, blurring you from his vision. “I’m sorry I missed the dinner. I’ll make it up to you—I promise just—”

The dam of your emotions broke causing you to freely sob out all the sadness and anger that had collected in your heart. “I’m tired, Spencer. You can’t promise anything to me anymore. You’ve broken so many promises that you’ll only end up breaking them again.” 

He took your hands into his, letting the bouquet fall crushed on the hardwood floor, recognizing the ring missing in your finger. “This time, this time it’ll be different. Please, don’t leave me.” 

“The country needs you, the BAU needs you. But I need you too, Spencer. I love you, I really do but I can’t be your third priority anymore. I don’t deserve that—don’t I deserve to come first before the country and the job?” 

He tightened his hold on your hands as if afraid that you were slipping through his fingers, denying the reality that you already had. “I love you so much. I don’t want to live without you by my side. Tell me how to fix this. Do you want me to leave the BAU? I’ll—I’ll do it, just stay with me, please.” 

You shook your head. “I don’t want you to leave the FBI. Your ambition and integrity is one of the facets that I loved about you and you might end up resenting me down the line if you leave now. It’s not yet your time to leave the BAU, you and I both know that,” you pulled your hands away and slid the ring in front of him. “This belongs to you, I’m giving it back.” 

His shoulder caved in on itself, the weight of it all too much for him to carry. “I don’t want this to be our end. I just don’t.” 

“I don’t want this too, but I need to,” you whispered as your hand reached out to push shoulder length hair out of the way. “Maybe this isn’t the end. Maybe in the future we’d meet again and continue the pages of our love story but for now, I have to do this Spencer. I can’t keep giving a piece of me every time your top priority needs you, I’ll end up hating you if I stay.” 

You leaned in for one final kiss. A salty, tear filled kiss of death to a future you had once envisioned with the beautiful boy before you. A white picket fence with children laughing at the backyard—the American dream fading into nothing as you start to pull away.

“Goodbye for now, Spencer.”

He stared at all the curves and dips in your face one last time as if etching every detail into his already perfect memory.

“Goodbye for now, Y/N.”

[livinghalfway]

Younger Years Pt. 4

Masterlist

Summary: Damian gets temp de-aged to 6yrs old; cue him asking where his twin is. This is how everyone finds out about Danny's existence Word Count: 2088

Explaining to them what Talia had said did not make the situation any better. While her information had been helpful it wasn’t nearly enough to calm the storm that raged in them. If anything caused the winds to roar even stronger. They had to know what happened in that room, and the only one that knew was currently 6 years old. Which meant everyone would just have to wait; something this family was never good at especially when it came to personal matters. 

“Talia doesn’t know what really happened to Danyal. Ra’s could have just lied to her, and made Damian swear to never tell her the truth. We all know how much he idolized that man. It would have been easy for Ra’s to convince him it was for the best.” Tim suggests as he types hurriedly at the computer. 

“If Talia thought for a second that he had done something like that it would have come to light by now.” Bruce counters, “Ra’s would still have needed help getting Danyal out of Nanda Parbat, and one of them would have most definitely let it slip to Talia if he had done that.” 

“Which is why Ra’s would have everyone involved killed before they could have done so.” 

“Tim-”

“Crazier things have happened Bruce; multiple people in this family have come back. Why not Danyal?” Tim looks away from the screen for but a second as he interrupts Bruce before focusing back on the screen. A clear sign that he doesn’t want to continue talking about this. 

Bruce leaves Tim to continue his investigation; a part of him hoping that Tim is right. He could never admit that though. It would just be that much more crushing if proven wrong. So he turns attention to Dick, who is still near the med bay ready to rush in if need be.  

“Chum, why don’t you take a rest? Damian is perfectly fine right now, and you look like you need a break.” 

He knew that the reveal of Danyal’s death would hit Dick partially hard as someone who was very protective of his younger siblings. It wouldn’t matter to him that Danyal died before he even knew of his existence. Bruce expected Dick to be consumed with sadness right now. He wasn’t though he was overcome with fury. 

“A rest Bruce? We all just found out that Damian’s twin is dead; that Ra’s did something to make sure Damian wouldn’t tell anyone. And you want me to take a rest?” Dick eyes burned into him as he spoke. “I’ll take a rest once I know what that psychotic old man did.” 

Bruce knows Dick well enough to read between the lines of what his son is saying. He’s angry at Ra’s, yes, but Dick’s angry at himself too. He’s probably wondering why Damian never felt comfortable enough to mention such a big part of himself to them. 

“And we’ll make sure Damian knows that whatever Ra’s said or did was wrong, but you look exhausted right now. At least let me bring a chair over here for you to sit in.” Bruce calmly states to his eldest son. 

It looks like his words haven’t calmed Dick in the slightest, but before he can speak up again a chair is being pulled up next to Dick by Jason. “Jesus Christ Dick, just sit down already. And that’s me agreeing with B on something so you should know that it's not just the old man saying some b.s.” 

It doesn’t take much for Jason to force Dick to take a seat; one hard shoulder shove and he was collapsing into the chair. After which Jason pulls his own chair up next to him. “I’m gonna need you to put an end to this little pity party in the corner, Dickiebird.” 

“I’m allowed to be upset, Jason. We just found out that our brother is dead, and I should have been able to do something. 

“You think I don’t get that? The only difference between us right now though is that I was there; I could have done something to save the kid if I had known.” 

“Jaylad-” 

“No Bruce, if Dick here wants to blame himself for not doing something then he can blame me too.” Jason gives Dick an annoyed look then turns his head towards Bruce, “You’re free to get out of here old man. Can’t believe I’m the one that’s gotta talk some sense into Dick here.” 

He really doesn’t want to leave this conversation where it’s currently at, but when Dick gives him a nod he knows that he should withdraw. Bruce does make a mental note to ask about how the discussion went later; for now though he’ll do as they want.

So for now he moves on to check on his final son, Duke, before doing so though Bruce stops by his office once more for a moment to just sit and think. Once there it doesn’t take long before he is reaching into the bottom drawer where he keeps a bottle of whiskey hidden away. When he doesn’t feel it though Bruce knows that Alfred must have taken it. 

Of course Alfred knew he had it; that man knows everything that goes on here. 

It’s for the best that it’s gone anyhow he doesn’t need to be repeating past habits from when he lost Jason. That’s the last thing this family needs right now; not when there are still so many questions that need answers. 

In the end it’s Duke who seeks him out first. A mere 10 minutes goes by where Bruce is sitting in silence before a few light knocks echo against the walls around him. After announcing that the person knocking entrance Duke almost hesitantly approaches him. His habit of always tapping his fingers on whatever he was holding a dead give away for how nervous his son must be feeling right now. 

“Hey B,” Duke started, “everyone seems to be going through it right now huh?”

“It would appear so. What about you chum? How are you doing with all this?”

“I’m … not fine, but I know that that’s ok; I don’t think anyone wouldn’t be somewhat affected by the recent news. I actually wanted to talk to you about something else though if that’s ok.” 

Bruce takes a quick steady breath preparing himself for whatever this conversation may bring. “Of course, what did you want to talk about?”

“About what’s going to happen afterwards; when we find out the truth from Damian. Because- If Danyal is … dead then I think asking Damian about who Danyal was as a person, and setting up a memorial of sorts might help everyone with their grief.” 

“That,” his throat feels tight, “that sounds like a wonderful idea, Duke. I’m sure Damian- everyone would appreciate having a setup for Danyal in the manor.” 

Duke seems satisfied with his answer, and with a small smile makes his way out of the office. Before he leaves though he says one last thing, “I’d also make time to call Cass and Steph to give them an update on this before they get home.” 

After that the silence once more takes control of the room while Bruce thinks about the what if’s and the could have been. 

He’s not sure what the future holds for them now, but Bruce does know that whatever comes they’ll deal with it; together. That means he can’t keep sitting here in sorrow; he can’t fall apart again. 

“It’s time to get to work,” is his last thought as he leaves to make his way back to the cave. 

-

The rest of the day seems to go by in a blur, and not in a good way. Damian spits fire anytime anyone steps into his room. He has only willingly allowed Alfred inside to deliver food to him, and even that was met with cautious anger. 

At the very least Damian isn’t trying to escape; some piece of evidence they showed him must have convinced him that what they were saying was the truth. That conclusion is a double edge sword though as now Damian for sure knows that Danyal is gone. Why else would his brother not be here?

Red Hood and Red Robin are the only ones that go on patrol when the time comes. Dick refuses to leave his station at the med bay door knowing that Damian could be transferring back to himself any time now, and Bruce doesn’t want to leave him by himself if that does happen tonight. The two don’t talk much while alone in the cave, but Dick does allow Bruce to momentarily take his place at the door while he takes a moment to refresh himself. 

While it doesn’t actually happen that night the family is definitely in for a surprise when they check in on Damian the next morning, and find the now normal 14 year old boy asleep on the bed. 

Everyone had to hold Dick back so that he wouldn’t wake him up, and in the end it was Alfred who finally managed to convince him to let Damian rest without interruptions. Unfortunately for the sleeping child though this only gives the rest of the family more time to think about what they’re going to ask, and heaven knows he already has a lot to answer for.

-

Damian feels himself slowly waking; his body feels stiff and slow when he attempts to sit up, but otherwise fine. He knows he must be in the med bay since the last thing he remembers was being on patrol with Nightwing and encountering a blinding light. 

When enough of his strength finally returns to him he cracks his eyes open to see his father and brothers all looking at him with varying degrees of concern. Whatever happened must have been a lot bigger than he had originally thought if they are all here with him.  

Slowly he rubs a hand across his face and groans out to everyone in the room, “What happened?” 

No one says anything for a few beats. In fact they all seem to avoid meeting his eyes entirely. Eventually though his father clears his throat before speaking in a voice far too soft and gentle, “Well chum, you got hit with a spell while on patrol. It- It reverted you back to your 6 year old self.”

Oh. 

Oh no. 

That was probably the worst thing he could have been told right now as Damian thinks back to what he was like at that age; to who had been by his side since birth. There is absolutely no way that his long gone other half wasn’t mentioned, or brought up in however long he was in his younger state. 

“I’m frankly surprised to see you all still standing. I was very dedicated to the league at that age.” He’s not going to admit to anything just in case he is wrong though. Danyal is not someone who Damian is ready to speak about. His twin, his brother, and his biggest regret; he’ll never forgive himself for being so brainwashed by Ra’s that he allowed Danyal’s death that day. That he was prepared to do it himself because the older man said it was for the best. 

“You did manage to break Jason's nose!” Duke lightly chuckles as the mentioned man throws a glare, but otherwise remains silent. Followed by more deafening silence from everyone else. 

Dick is the one that finally brings up the elephant in the room, “Dami … who’s Danyal?”

Why did he have to be right about them knowing? Ready or not it seems the truth about Danyal was coming to light it seems. “Danyal was my twin; the other half- the better half of me. I understand that now.”

His eldest brother gently grabs his hand, and holds it in a firm embrace of comfort. He’ll allow it for now. “And what happened to him?” 

Damian can’t keep his past hidden anymore, and Danyal deserves to have his story told. “When we were 10 Gran- Ra’s took Danyal and I away from our studies early one afternoon. He said that he had a couple lessons of his own that he wanted to teach us personally.” 

For one it was a life lesson, and for the other a death sentence. 

… 4 years ago …

“Damian, Danyal, come. You two are about to learn what it truly means to be an Al Ghul.”

[scientia-rex]

One of my patients used to be a Big Deal Specialist in the city and you can just TELL he’s SEETHING that no one out here is even qualified to understand what he did, much less how important he was. He’s also terrified of death. It’s both annoying and really sad. Like, sir, I hate to break it to you, but no amount of knowledge will protect you from the ravages of time. It’s a special kind of hell to know the stages of various fatal diseases intimately. What is it going to feel like when it’s my turn? How do doctors want to die? Suddenly, quietly. Slip away painlessly in my sleep. But how likely is that? Not very. More likely I’ll get cardiovascular disease or cancer, the greatest killers of our time.

He was so afraid of cancer he had an organ that wasn’t cancerous removed just in case. He talks down to me as if I’m his student, and who knows? Maybe I was. He was in the same city as me, and they were forever dragging Big Name Doctors in to teach us things. Maybe I learned how to elicit Achilles tendon reflexes from him.

But mostly I find myself a little scornful. Who lives without the shadow of death? Who doesn’t think about death all the time? When you die, life is a round thing, finished and whole. What will your life look like when God holds it in the palm of his hand?

Also don’t fucking call me by my first name unless I’ve specifically said you can. I don’t GIVE that permission to patients, except for my mentally ill trans and queer patients. If I wanted to be disrespected by an older man I would have married young.

You do not have time. This important doctor who based his whole life around his importance lived as rich and full a life as anyone. And now he’s clinging to it, leaving fingernail marks on the walls on his way out. No one has time. There will be a moment when you’re dying when you think, I would give anything I have to be back in that moment. Any ordinary moment. Taking the dogs out to go potty. Browsing at the grocery store. When you’re being crucified on a hospital bed, dying and aware of it through the morphine, you would give anything you ever possessed to go back and have one more agony-free afternoon. Sit on a curb or a stoop. Walk through a park. Hug your spouse. These tiny fragmentary moments that we are constantly sliding through, tobogganing past at high speeds, these are what will be our life when our life is over.

I am accountable to that self. To the dying me. What did I do with this gift and curse? I don’t believe in God, but I know that I will die, and I have watched enough dying people by now to know the kinds of things I’ll think about. I want to make that me proud of what I’ve done and how I’ve spent my life. She will be a harder judge than God, and I want her to look at this one little life and think, yes. I did what I meant to.

[cyarsk52-20]

if that abusive gremlin thinks that he could face Kendrick and win he’s dead wrong, didn’t he learn anything from this year? Like his boyfriend Drake got demolished by Kendrick this year, if I were that baldie I’d just back off.

And what does he mean when he say he wishes somebody would come after him? Like dude they already came after you ….five years ago that’s why you’re still in jail for seven more years. You wanna be all gangster, but real gangsters don’t shoot and abuse women… cause a real gangster would have done to you what Will Smith did to Chris Rock at the Oscars back in 2022

As in slap you in the face . Hard. Only not with an open hand.

[redflagshipwriter]

Mamabat- enter Jason 1/2

MASTERPOST

The air was different with Cass, now. Danny felt a little anxious as he followed her to the study after breakfast. Something about her was serious-determined-protective. 

She always felt protective towards him. That was why he'd followed her in the first place. Some ghosts lied, but they couldn't do it with their aura. He knew what she really felt for him. 

“Sit?” She asked him. She gestured at the big squashy chair. Danny did without complaint. Cass perched behind him and started dragging her fingers through his hair, relaxing him.

Man. She was good at this. Top tier mothering, right here. Danny went limp. 

“I'm worried,” Cass broke the silence. She didn't sound worried. She never really did. Her voice was quiet and serious, but still kind. Her thumbs dug into his scalp. He pushed his head back against it. Bliss. “Barbara made you sad. Because you miss your sister?”

Danny tensed. 

‘I should have figured that Batman would track me down.’

Maybe he had known, if he was honest with himself. It didn't hit him like a shock.

“Tim thinks your name is Fenton,” she added, brutally sensible as always. And yup, that was it. No point in denying it. “Declared dead. In danger?”

He sucked in air through his teeth. He wasn't going to lie to her. 

“Worried,” she repeated. 

He thought about it. He really did. Danny bit his lip. 

She was liminal. That probably meant she'd come really close to death, in at least one sense of the word. Would that mean she was desensitized to it, or extra paranoid?

…It was hard to imagine Cass over or under reacting to a possible danger. She was just so steady. But would she see him as a possible danger if she knew what he was, what he really was? 

He could feel it out before he took a plunge with the whole truth.

Maybe it was wrong. Maybe it was invasive. She didn't seem to realize that she was liminal. That meant she definitely didn't realize how much she was communicating to him under her words and gestures. 

But Danny deliberately tuned into her quiet aural communication and tested the waters. “Tim is right, I'm Danny Fenton,” he said. He knew he was too tense. She would definitely feel it. But what could he do about that? He was nervous. “I… Maybe I did die.”

Her heart dropped to her stomach. He could feel the crush of grief on her heart. 

But it didn’t wash away the thudding repetition of love-protect-my darling. There was no suspicion, no guilt, no fear. It was just pain for his sake, with no calculation about how to solve a sudden problem. 

God. He wanted so badly for that to have been how his parents reacted. His eyes started to sting.

Danny sniffled. He thought it was safe to tell her. “I died,” he corrected, and he knew he was right when Cass made a little wounded sound and leaned her body into him, aiming to comfort. “Not then, but a couple years ago. I’m different now, and it’s uh… It’s dangerous to be this way.”

“Affects?” Cass asked quietly. She started to pet his hair again. “Mood? Health?”

“...Huh,” he said, because that was a sensible question he hadn’t expected. If he really thought about his mood and emotions before and after the accident: “Yeah, uh, there’s sometimes a mood thing. I might be a little more aggressive than I was before? And I can get kind of intense sometimes.”

He had thought that was basically just a reaction to having a whole bunch of new threats in his life. But would pre-electrocution Danny have been able to actually stand and fight Skulker? He had genuinely been afraid of the jocks. Maybe… Maybe he was different. Sure, Sam and Jazz were up for shooting ghosts with Fenton tech. Would he have been if he was just human? 

…He didn’t really think so.

Oof. Well, that wasn’t exactly great for his sense of self.

Cass shook him lightly. “Health?” she repeated.

Danny forced down that revelation to deal with later. He didn’t like acknowledging that he was kind of a chicken by nature, but historically, there wasn’t much evidence of bravery pre-mortem. “Uh, my heart rate is really slow, body temp is low, so I can’t really afford to go to a doctor for a checkup,” he said. “Uh, sometimes I’ve got none at all and my hair turns white.” He paused there. That was- that was enough, yeah? He was going to be honest with her because she deserved honesty from him. But that didn’t mean he had to explain the whole great beyond and his inhuman status.

“Sounds like Jason,” Cass said, after a long silence.

Danny short-circuited. “Wait, what?” He craned to look at her. “Who?”

Cass darted forward to kiss his forehead. “Little brother,” she said cheerfully. “Want to meet him?”

Uh, yeah. Danny nodded vigorously, wondering what the hell she was on about. “Do you mean he died?” 

“Died,” Cass agreed, getting out her phone and tapping away at it rapidly.

“Not like, heart stopped for a minute on the operating table and he was revived, or what?” Danny pressed.

“Dead in the ground, came back later,” Cass said. “Dead for months. Now, very crabby.”

Danny balked. “What?”

“White hair too,” she said. Then her face did something funny. “I think he dyed it recently,” she said. 

Danny huffed a laugh. “If it’s the same thing as mine, you can’t dye it.” He saw her look over his head for white streaks. He didn’t correct her line of thought.

He hadn’t thought that anything could top the anticipation of meeting Batman. But Danny had to admit the rest of the day was a wash. Apparently Jason couldn’t make it until the evening, about an hour before patrol.

Danny nearly paced a line into the carpet. He had enough energy to do that now, even without ecto. He was getting soooo much food here. A guy couldn’t even stress out for an hour without someone coming by to make sure he had fruit and yogurt or a hot drink.

He didn’t need someone to come and tell him that the much anticipated Jason had shown up. Danny knew it when he went to take a sip of cruelty-free chocolate milk (hand delivered by the most frightening child in the world) and choked on vapor.

Damian gave him a glare and snatched the drink away. “Are you incapable of drinking beverages?” he demanded. His face looked so goddamn cross but he was just worried.

Danny managed a smile. “No, went down the wrong pipe, sorry.”

Damian didn’t seem to even see the fog, so- so that meant that either he was really unobservant or he wasn’t liminal enough to see it the way people did in Amity. That was a small blessing. Danny appreciated it and he took back his drink to have something to hold onto.

That was a whole ass ghost. That was a whole ghost coming onto the property, one that felt big and mad and old. Danny smacked his lips, disconcerted. 

He, uh, didn’t know what to expect from this.

[luludeluluramblings]

I’m the anon who sent the pregnant Reader ask! And omg Sugar Baby! Reader is such a delight. Imagine the absolute 😦😧😨 journey on Bruce’s face upon realizing this man who is closer to him in age, old enough to be his daughter’s dad not only MARRIED but had the audacity to knock her up to. I can see little menace Damian asking Husband plenty of indiscreet questions and being straight up rude. Bruce lets him, and he has plenty of questions for the husband, too. How dare he seduce Bruce’s young, impressionable and sheltered daughter, has he no shame?

And of course they offer for Reader and husband to stay at Wayne manor while she recovers. All the hotels in Gotham are suddenly booked so they have to stay over, right? Husband can go right back to work too, Reader will be fine with her family. And why don’t they look at midwives or some of the best hospitals in Gotham, consider giving birth here? Not that they all wouldn’t track the rest of her pregnancy and fly out when she gives birth, but it keeps things simpler.

The sad thing about this concept, fun as it is, it’s that the Batfam is absolutely going to ruin Reader’s relationship either by sabotaging her husband, his business, maybe plant cheating evidence for her to find like Meta! Reader’s prom date. Obviously they will all be there to help pick up the pieces and aid Reader in recovering as well as caring for the baby.

Bruce holding his grandchild and Damian as an uncle too! Wholesome despite the circumstances.

Adding to this and adding a slight NSFW warning for at the end!

☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️

See, I feel like the counter to this would be Husband having a begrudging Alfred in his corner. Like, Alfred isn’t happy about this guy being married to Reader. But, unfortunately, this is the healthiest relationship anyone in the family has ever been in and he doesn’t wanna ruin that for Reader.

Although, the petty passive aggressive bullshit Hubby’s gonna go through at the manor will probably escalate to the point of them sabotaging his business or making Hubby and Reader snap at the family together.

☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️

Reader’s not stupid enough to fall for planted cheating evidence. They know their husband (man’s too old to be trying that nonsense and they also take good care of him themselves.) Plus, they probably told Hubby about how neglected they were by their family. Hubby’s gonna be prepared mentally for the bullshit, even if it does eventually overwhelm him.

But, if you want angst, which I’m guessing you do. I’d say Hubby could tragically die. The family either went to far with the sabotage or an accident happened at work.

(Or, because the dude I imagined Hubby being is Philip Graves, he has to fake his death temporarily for work reasons. Oooo, hubby can grovel and show the Bat family how it’s done when he comes back.)

Either way, you have a distraught Reader. But, I would also add Reader has a difficult pregnancy . That’s why hubby was spoiling her so much.

Imagine the bat family dealing with a hormonal pregnant reader that blames them for their husband’s subsequent death while also being in pain?

☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️

Also, if the family ended up insisting y’all stay at the manor you KNOW your husband would fuck you on every available surface without fucking care. He’d clean you and the place up right after, but everyone in that house would know how good he’d be dicking you down.

Alfred don’t care, he dealt with horny Bruce. Bruce, though, he just sit in his bed silently screaming in his own personal hell. Everyone else is traumatized. Especially when you be calling hubby daddy when he be hitting it just right.

☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️

(I’m tagging this as SugarBaby!Reader and this is going to have to be a series at this point. One day, one day.)

[loeh]

Yandere Claude

Wherein you are his brothers fiancee but you we're so kind to him he wants you all to himself ( you'll be like the birth mother of Anastasia)

thank you for requesting! altho, he is a character who i find really complex, still it was fun writing for him! shouldn't have listened to too much skeeter davis lol. Ngl i think i made him too oc

Above and Beyond

Yandere Claude de Alger Obelia x Fem!Reader

Cruelty— perhaps the only thing Claude had ever known. His brother and his fiancée, you, were the only ones left in his life, the few rays of light in his otherwise dark existence.

You had been his first love, and though his feelings for you ran deep, he would never allow them to interfere with his brother’s happiness. But when Claude discovered the affair between his brother and Penelope, his own fiancee, rage consumed him.

Anger was too mild a word for what he felt—he was infuriated. Not at Penelope, but at his brother. How could he betray him and you like this, even after all that had happened? Even after you, the radiant flower of the empire, had remained loyal and devoted?

The realization that his brother had broken that trust for a fleeting affair shattered him. The pieces fell into place—your lifeless eyes, the absence of your once-vibrant spirit, and your subtle hints to Claude to seek a different lady as his fianceee. Everything seemed to make sense.

With newfound clarity, Claude rushed to your palace, only to find it eerily silent, as though no one had ever lived there. His steps quickened, and he made his way to your chambers. The sight that greeted him stole the breath from his chest. There you were, perched on the railing of your balcony. The moonlight kissed your face, casting a glow that made you appear even more ethereal than before. Your hair shimmered in the soft light, creating an almost otherworldly glow. He wanted to capture this moment, to immortalize it for future generations.

But what struck him most was your eyes—those lifeless eyes that made his heart ache. For a long time, he stood there, lost in the beauty and sadness of the scene before him. It was only after several minutes that he gathered the courage to speak the words that had been tormenting him. His voice was a whisper, barely audible against the stillness of the night.

"Why didn’t you tell me earlier?"

"What could you have done? Nothing. You can do nothing. We can do nothing because we are just two powerless pawns in this imperial power play," your voice was eerily calm, as if you'd been waiting for him to hear these words.

Claude’s eyes softened, and he asked quietly, "What if you didn’t have to stay powerless?"

A small sigh escaped your lips, and you took a deep breath. "That would be refreshing," you said, almost wistfully. "Something to hope for. But…" You paused, the weight of your words settling in. "But I’m too tired now, Claude. Too tired to keep living this life as a pawn—getting sold off to the imperial family, and discarded by the man who swore to protect me from all the evils of the world. I’m just… tired."

He could see the effort you were making to hold back tears, and all he could do was gather you into his arms, offering what little comfort he could. But your exhaustion soon took over, and you fainted, collapsing into him, perhaps finding solace in his embrace.

That was when he made his decision. Rebellion. He would fight for you. He would lead a revolt, take down everything that had trapped you both. In a single night, he ended his brother’s life.

The next day, when you learned of your husband’s death at Claude's hands, your heart raced in fear. You feared you were next. In a desperate bid, you reached for the hidden glass vial containing poison—something your mother had given you before you left for the Empire. "Do not let anyone taint your honor," her words echoed in your mind as you stared at the sloshing purple liquid. You could almost feel her presence, urging you to stay strong.

But just as you were about to drink it, Claude burst through the door. Without hesitation, he snatched the vial from your hand and hurled it to the floor. It shattered, the contents spilling onto the ground.

"You're thinking of killing yourself?" His voice was gentle, but his eyes were filled with concern.

"Why?" he asked softly.

"Because I’m finally free," you whispered, your voice heavy with conflict between feelings of sorrow and happiness. "I’ve lost everything. I’ve lost the meaning of my life."

Claude shook his head, his eyes pleading with you. "No."

You looked at him, desperation in your eyes. "Please, let me go. I have nothing left to live for."

"Then marry me," he said, his voice unwavering, though laced with tenderness. "Let me give your life the meaning you’ve lost. Please."

The sweetness of his words, the sincerity in his gaze, reminded you of the boy he once was—the one who had been shorter than you, the one who gave you flowers every day and played with your hair in fascination. The once adorable shy boy as a man was asking you to marry him. His words were tempting, too tempting to resist, and despite the hesitations lingering in your heart, you found yourself nodding, your voice barely a whisper.

"Okay."

You both got married, and over time, began to heal the wounds of your past. The scars weren’t easily erased, but with each passing day, the pieces of your broken selves slowly began to fall into place. It wasn’t a perfect marriage—no, far from it—but it was yours. A chance to begin again, to start fresh from the trauma that had once defined you.

Then came the news. You were pregnant. It felt surreal at first, this new life blossoming within you, a tangible promise of hope. And when your daughter was born, small and fragile, you could see in Claude’s eyes something you hadn’t seen before: pure, unadulterated joy.

He held her in his arms, his fingers trembling slightly as he whispered her name.

“Athanasia,” he said, his voice thick with emotion. The name hung in the air between you like a blessing.

In that moment, you felt a quiet contentment fill you, something you hadn’t allowed yourself to feel in years. Maybe, just maybe, everything could be okay now. You had Claude. You had Athanasia. And though the road ahead was unknown, you were no longer walking it alone.

A little bit something more~

Claude stood in the quiet of the nursery, watching as you rocked Athanasia to sleep in your arms. The moonlight filtered through the curtains, casting soft shadows across your face, and for a brief moment, he let himself believe that this—this peaceful scene—was everything he had ever wanted.

He glanced at you, at the way you gently smoothed the baby’s hair, and something in his chest tightened. He had never thought it would come to this—a family.

He wasn’t perfect, and he knew that. He had failed so many times, but standing here, watching you with their daughter, he couldn’t help but feel that he had at least done one thing right. He had chosen this life. He had chosen you. And for the first time in years, he was proud of that choice.

In this moment, all the anger, all the betrayal, seemed like distant memories. There was no more war in his heart. No more need to fight. There was only this—this peaceful, fragile thing that was now his life.

And for the first time in years, Claude allowed himself to believe that he had finally found the one thing he had been searching for all along: peace.