#and ALL OF THEM ARE BAD WRAITHS
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thatonepikminperson · 11 months ago
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Stone Wraith, Mercury Wraith, and Floral Wraith.
Let's start with the first of the three, the Floral Wraith, who may or may not be inspired by the Pom Wraith AU. (It is)
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Floral Wraiths are a Solid type of Wraith, very rare to find now-a-days. These guys get along with all plant creatures, and it is the ONLY wraith type that Pikmin trust. The Floral Wraith is a small Wraith, with the dump truck part of the Water Wraith (We both know what I’m talking about here), being for the legs. It has tiny green goopy arms and a giant flower as its “face.” This flower will range in the center’s color, but the petals are guaranteed to be black.
These Wraith’s power comes from the pollen that can be found on any of the flowers they create. This pollen shuts down a few key places of a creature's minds, most commonly the ones that cause creatures to think clearly. With this, the Floral Wraith can make the creature do anything they want, and believe anything they say. It really just gaslights the creature into doing/believing anything really. As they say, Gaslight, Gatekeep, Girlboss.
These Wraiths are not affected by Lumiknolls.
The Floral Wraith, whose name is Rose, or Uncle Rose, is mostly a good guy. MOSTLY. Man's will still side with Ref over Pom on 90% of things, but he doesn't abuse the kid like she does. He just mainly tries to keep Pom in line via GASLIGHT GATEKEEP GIRLBOSS. (Sorry I had to lol). He's very laid back, and very not formal about anything. His only big sin, aside from the gaslighting, is supporting Ref over Pom.
(Stone and Mercury are down here!)
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Mercury Wraiths are some of the most feared Wraiths known to most of the planet. The Mercury Wraith looks like a mid-sized Plasma Wraith, with its nubs on its head being chains. At the end of these chains are cuffs, designed to launch onto other creatures in order to impose its own will on the creature. These are also used to slowly eat away at the creature, until it’s part of its mass. The only way the Wraith gains power is if it consumes something that is more powerful than itself.
These Wraiths are technically a type of mixed Wraith, being between a Plasma and Gas Wraith, but the Gas Wraith’s consciousness is entirely gone, just leaving the Plasma. Thanks to the whole, being a mixed Wraith thing, it has a wonderful voice that lures in creatures. (Like a siren) Once they get close, it attaches itself to the creature and eats it alive. It sometimes uses the creature to attack other creatures. The Wraith has become infamous for its style of attack, as well for what it eats. The Wraith is generally avoided by most creatures, especially its prey, other Wraiths. Luckily for the other Wraiths, this creature only hunts other Wraiths every 16 seasons, or 4 years. 
Oh yeah, also not affected by Lumiknolls and is a Type 3 Mixed Wraith, which is when a Mixed Wraith is created, but there is only ONE consciousness. (It’s 3 because it’s way less common than the other two, so it gets third place.)
Now, that might seem like a weird thing for a Wraith apart of the family, but the Mercury Wraith, named Mery, doesn't want to eat any of her family members. Really. She likes them, and would rather hunt other Wraiths. And when that time comes, her family (Most commonly Dave or Ref) helps her hunt other Wraiths down. She's a very shy Wraith, and often tries not to talk. She grew up with Pom for a little bit, and view him as her lost, confused brother that she has to get back, at any cost.
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Stone Wraiths is a mix of the Plasm Wraith and the Reflective Wraith. They are made up of grey stone, having the body shape of a Plasm. Their head nubs are giant hands that extend outwards just a bit and then downwards, creating large stone gauntlets. They use these to move around, as the Stone Wraith is incredibly small. 
Stone Wraiths take the form of a creature, either one that is currently dead or alive, that they’ve seen out in the wild. They then stay still, like a stone statue, until an unsuspecting creature walks up to them, and well, gets a little surprise. They reside in caves, lined with real statues of real people, and creatures. They can even do this to other Wraiths, but it’s incredibly hard for them to pull it off. 
Depending on the personalities of the Reflective and Plasm Wraiths, they might fight from time to time. If the two created a combined consciousness, and they fight, the consciousness is kicked out of control and one or both of them take over. If it gets too unstable, or the Core is broken in half, then the two Wraiths will split up, leaving behind their Stone Wraith form. 
These Wraiths are affected by Lumiknolls, and is a Type 2 Mixed Wraith.
The Stone Wraith, or known by her current space person's last name, Printen Shepherd, is one of the few Wraiths in the family who thinks before acting (Seriously, Dave and her are like the only ones that do this). She's very head strong, and knows what she wants. She's super good friends with Ref though, and will side with her on anything and everything. As expected, Pom doesn't like her very much. She does love him, seeing him as her lost son, and she is willing to hurt him and anyone he loves to get him back to his "Normal Self."
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harellan · 1 month ago
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Loyalty gets you a bullet. Trust is a liability. Do what you need to survive.
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lizzybeeee · 6 months ago
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I love the Descent DLC for a lot of reasons, but one of the most memorable parts for me was how they recontextualized the dwarven belief that you would 'fall into the sky!' with the reveal of the Titans.
Thousands upon thousands of years resulted in the phrase losing it’s true meaning, recontextualised to instead refer to the surface of Thedas because they lost the knowledge of what it was talking about. Yet this phrase still endured throughout the ages.
You meet plenty of dwarves in Dragon Age who talk about the importance of reclaiming what they lost -> the Aeducan origin story begins with an expedition to an old thaig, Brosca suffers the caste system that venerates the importance of past ancestors actions, we see characters like Branka commit/allow horrific acts in the pursuit of this...
Even Bartrand, who spent the majority of his life on the surface, felt that pull. Varric has a story about breaking a plate that was brought to the surface with them and how, to Bartrand, that plate was the entire city of Orzammar. So many dwarven characters are reaching for something lost to them...
You walk into the titan (though you don't know this at the time) and you're met with an entire world in there. There's light, fauna, flora, architecture, clouds -> you are in the clouds -> you are in the sky!
The dwarves had an entirely different way of life! How does this all work? Who knows! What is in the booty of a Titan???
And the entire time they've had one small link to the far distant past through the belief that they would ‘fall into the sky’! Which is deeply ironic and tragic in that something so tied to their way of life, under the surface, became synonymous with the surface.
I still remember how excited/awed I was when I realized what that phrase was referring to! You heard it all the time in DAO – even Varric joked about how Bartrand believed it in DA2.
A phrase that was a joke to those on the surface was revealed to be a flicker of memory of what once was. Amazing!
Maybe it was once a small, chiding reminder for dwarven children when walking around in a titan. Maybe it was a joke for the guards/defenders of the titan like the Sha-Brytol? Maybe a dwarf wandered down so far below that they saw all this - making their way back to Orzammar with their account becoming legend. Who knows! But I love it so much <3
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micamone · 2 months ago
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trying to think. is it weirder to see michael as a full, healthy wraith with long hair or is it weirder to see him not scowling
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supersquiddle · 2 years ago
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I *swear* these guys are the evil-aligned party. Shrike is played by @scruffigus. Gabriel is played by FoolishPhoenix. Marcello is played by myself.
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hana-bobo-finch · 4 months ago
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i am one day late to my own character’s birthday but whatever better late than never. this image popped up in my head last night and I felt obligated to make it
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for context Tornado is the name of the only social networking site on fincg island and C.C. is. very into the occult and would definitely think this is a halfway decent thing to do (it is not)
og
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#pdbc#tag ramble INCOMING 💥💥💥💥💥#I don’t post about CC enough I think….a lot of you (the very few of you who are following the PDBC lore lmao) probably don’t remember her#I think I posted about her once and that was with a very beta design. she is changed now. more obvious that she’s fishkin now#anyway she’s wonderful. love her. she looks menacing here but she’s one of the more. not horrible characters lmao#her worst crimes are just being insensitive by accident I guess. and maybe enabling an absolute monster of a person but whatever#her lore is kinda underdeveloped unfortunately but it is being developed bit by bit#she’s like. really into the phonetic alphabet for some reason. fitting considering she’s an Oscar fish and o is Oscar#also as you can see in this stupid image. her last name is technically whisky but she doesn’t go by it ever#but its whisky bc 1. whiskey is W in the phonetic alphabet and 2. it means water of life#and yknow. she’s a fish. fish live in water. given human life. a good enough name ig#spirits and other stereotypically occult creatures and the like are very common so she likes to hang out with them#most people have a sort of spirit like being that shadows them called a wraith that are meant to protect you (basically plot armor lmao)#but her wraith is fallen meaning she is. completely on her own in a universe where bad things Will happen all the time#so she has ghost buddies for support! even the infamous piss ghost and sizzle ghost#pretty good at communicating with them I’d say. most people don’t bother because they find ghosts and spirits annoying :(#anyway though she’s clearly mistaken here because bellona. did not go to heaven 🥰 whoops#there’s more context than that but I think it’s funnier to leave it as that lmao just know she is Not having a heavenly birthday#also I don’t think I’ve ever talked about Tornado? it’s a very minor lore piece so I don’t think I ever bothered mentioning it#and if I did eh oh well. it’s pretty much the only social media that’s allowed on the island#it came to me in a dream so obviously I made it canon bc that’s where the best ideas come from#the app’s color scheme is mainly lavender and has an overall. as one could expect. tornadic theme to it#(tornadoes are very common on fincg island and also I find tornadoes fascinating so i think it’s cool but it’s really not 💀)#it has a ton of bizarre and useless features that nobody would ever need but they’re there anyway#my favorite is the medication vortex. you can click on someone’s profile and see what meds they’re on lmafo#you don’t have to fill out that information field but a lot do just for the goofs#its moderation team consists of two people. thankfully for them there aren’t really that many users#although sometimes the site is flooded by cryptic messages that are actually a cry for help from one of the mods but. oh well#anyway enough rambling goodnight
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somnoir · 1 month ago
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Our darling mother
Wraith and Specter were mortal enemies with the same powers. Perhaps the same species. But with very different aspects.
The Justice League knew very well that their newest member of the YJ was part of a species that was known to earth as "Ghosts". Denizens of another dimension that essentially posed as the interdimensional afterlife. Where should manifested into something else, born of ectoplasm and such.
Specter had a hybridisation of ghost constitution. Being half human and all. However, unlike most ghosts, her special powers typically made her as fast as speedsters. Her speed, accompanied by her ghostly abilities, made her scarier than most speedsters.
Then there was what was considered to be her arch nemesis.
Wraith was what one called an independent criminal. He wasn't affiliated with anyone. Occasionally worked with some rogues but that was only to his own benefit. Batman and Cyborg had identified his goals (or what they could consider to be his goals). The destruction of an entire government organisation along with something else. Perhaps slaughter.
Specter had been familiar with such a villain.
"He's... Not so bad. Not really. His heart is in the right place but his execution of it is cruel." Specter said, "Some ghosts have been experimented on before and Wraith almost became one of them... None of us ghosts like the G.I.W. but Wraith is determined to slaughter not only them but their associates too."
"Meaning?"
"If you have a connection to the G.I.W. then you won't be spared from his wrath... The last time he tracked down one of their scientists, he killed the man's wife and mother."
Batman grimaced, looking at the glitches out picture of Wraith. He could compare the man to be around Jason's height—or taller. Specter had reported that Wraith was a fair bit older than her.
While Specter was a ghost that was best with speed, Wraith was destructive power. Strength in it's most dangerous form. He was capable of leveling mountains and summoning fireballs bigger than the daily planet sculpture.
The last time they fought Wraith without Specter, Superman and Wonderwoman were immediately shot down. Hell, even Batman was struggling after the bastard decided to play dirty. Batman quickly decided Wraith was an enemy after the ghost targeted Red Robin—as if knowing Bruce would immediately falter when one of his children were in immediate danger.
But there were times when some of them couldn't help but not blame Wraith. Not when they had failed to save ghosts who were being tortured and vivisected. Not when it was Wraith who frees them all.
(Bruce knows damn well that Jason seemed to be more inclined to Wraith than any of them.
"He's protecting his people, old man." Jason had once said.)
It's another crisis. Another fight. Lex Luther has apparently joined hands with the GIW. And broadcasting live was a ghost missing their limbs and trapped inside a tube of glowing green.
Before anyone could even say a word, the watchtower shook. Specter didn't seem surprised but her eyes were colder than the ice she conjured.
"Why the fuck is Wraith outside?" Barry warily muttered, already preparing for a fight once they saw the ghost hovering outside. He wasn't attacking, cursing, or doing anything else. He was just floating, staring at Specter.
"Ellie." Wraith growled, eyes glowing red while Specter's eyes shone venomous green. "You gonna keep playing hero, Polaris?"
Specter growled back, "Let him in."
They all shot her a confused look. Batman should be asking questions. Superman should be refusing. Wonder Woman should be demanding for a reason. But the two ghostly beings were staring at each other like they finally agreed on something.
Constantine slowly lowered the forcefield that kept ghosts out and some ghosts in. Wraith floated through the glass of the watchtower and stood before Specter—towering over her.
"You gonna admit it?"
"I already agreed with you that the GIW were trash—but that doesn't give you the right to arbitrarily take the lives of those that weren't involved in their operations!" Specter yelled.
"So what? We keep them alive then someone's gonna come back to avenge their damned souls. Might as well wipe 'em out before they can come back to bite our asses!" Wraith yelled back.
"Dante! Mom didn't fucking raise you to be like this—"
"OUR MOTHER IS BEING BROADCASTED BY THOSE BASTARDS! OUR MOTHER IS IN THEIR FUCKING CAPTIVITY!" Wraith—Dante snapped, pointing to the screen where Lex Luthor went on about the ghosts. "Our mother has been missing for two months and the GIW had him. It's because of that krypton obsessed fucker that I failed to track him down!"
"IF YOU HAD JUST LISTENED TO ME AND LET ME TALK TO THE LEAGUE—"
"—YOUR LEAGUE IS FUCKING USELESS—"
"—MOM WOULDN'T—
Batman gritted his teeth, "ENOUGH!"
Everyone fell silent, unable to speak any further. It was hard processing all this.
Wraith and Specter were siblings... Their mother was the ghost in captivity. The two of them have been searching for their mother for months.
Constantine choked on whatever drink he had, letting his own flask fall and staring at the screen in suddenly horror. "Shit... SHIT! THAT'S THE FUCKING GHOST KING!" He screeched, pointing at the screen as realization struck him like lightning. Then he pointed at the two Ghosts, "And you're... Holy—"
"Ellie, you and I both know how this will end if mother isn't save within the fucking hour." Wraith snarled, "The realms will go to war."
"Spec?" Conner murmured softly, trying to see if their friend would actually—
But then Specter looked resigned, a little regretful, but also cold. Like she was prepared to fight them all. Slowly, but damn surely, she was walking towards Wraith and standing beside him.
"Specter." Diana narrowed her eyes.
"I'm sorry." Specter bowed her head just a bit, "But my brother is right... If the King of the Infinite Realms is not saved within the hour... There will be war. As your friend, I am inclined to warn you that you will not win. Not when the Realms' warriors were once yours. We have our Kryptonians. We have fallen demigods. We have many more than that."
Everyone's breath hitched.
"So please... Please help us." Specter pursed her lips. "Because I don't want a war... But I want my mother safe."
"My sister speaks for herself," Wraith scoffed, "I don't give a flying fuck about you people. But Luthor did something to block me and now I can't track them. Since you're all heroes, I suggest you get to work... Or else I'll lead the ghosts myself to burn your world down."
Teeth—sharp and eldritch. Glowing red eyes turned to Bart Allen—the boy from the future flinched away, as if horrified.
"You speedsters seem familiar with me." Wraith chuckled, "Know that I will not hesitate to eviscerate this world like the other timelines."
High King Phantom was retrieved from the secret facility Lex Luthor and the GIW created with an anti-ecto forcefield that had them go undetected by other ghosts. Constantine and the Supers were quick to find it and tear it to bits.
Wraith did not go to war. Specter thanked them and promised that there will be no war.
Danny was very concerned as to what the hell his children got up to during the months he was gone. Clockwork happily told him how his children developed fratricidal tendencies.
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docdudo · 9 months ago
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Hybrid 141 As Parents - Foster Human Child!Reader
You were not expecting anything from this new placement. You knew better now a days, have been on the system since day 1, and at this point? You know better than to hope.
Usually the houses you ended up in were all mediocre at best. Foster parents that already had their own children were the most neglectful homes, even to their own children. Which also resulted in bad blood between the foster kids and the biological kids.
And worst of all, you were human. Just a simple, small, defenseless human stuck in the foster system. Usually, they try to match human kids with human foster parents. But, humans were not a big part of the population, in fact, different kind of hybrids were the biggest part of the population.
And now, failed attempts after failed attempts, you got transfered to a neighbor city (not for the first time), and this time, to a hybrid pack househood. It wasn't your first time with hybrids, but it was always a little scary. They were strangers, and adult hybrids were SO much bigger than humans. Especially a human your age, with your small size thanks to lack of care throughout the years.
Hybrids were bigger, stronger, scarier... still, you knew it couldn't be worse than some houses you have been in before, or at least, that's what you're telling yourself. Not that your social worker was helping with your anxiety, as the old bear hybrid woman gave you some information about your new foster family.
They were a big pack, which was a concept you already had difficulty to grasp. Pack doesn't always mean the nuclear family, but could also mean family friends, or sometimes, just relatives. As a human, hearing the word "pack", or "hoard", or "coven", or whatever else they could use to name their little groups, always left you a little confused.
They were four hybrid parents, a Dragon, a Werewolf, a Harpy and a Wraith. They were all part of the military, special forces or something, and they had a lot of children already, children that were already adults and had moved out some time ago. They were taking fosters now, and accordingly to your social worker, they were delightful and very nurturing parents.
You don't know what to think of that.
So all you could do was hold tightly to your beated backpack straps as your social worker excitedly introduced you to four hybrid men in their big house, giant hybrid men with so many muscles, and why is everyone so big and buff?? You knew they were military before, but god dammit, they could crush you with one hand. Here to hoping you don't annoy them to that point.
You weren't really making eye contact, keeping your eyes to the ground as you heard your social worker talk to the new fosters, but still, you would peak at them every couple of seconds or so, just to assess how they were reacting to your presence.
The dragon, one of the biggest hybrids you have ever seen, had that kinda of... respectful and mature face, smart eyes that went between you and the social worker as he nodded along to what she was saying. He was standing still, arms crossed lightly, and just one big wing carefully drapped behind his back. He smiled lightly, trying to keep casual and confortable to the new people, avoiding staring at you too much, no matter how much he wanted to.
The harpy, that was standing by the dragon's side, had such a gentle smile on his face that you avoided looking at his face again after the first peak. Gentle eyes, gentle smile, gentle demeanour. His giant, featherly wings, were also carefully tucked behind his back, almost as if to make himself smaller. Tho, it didn't help your anxiety as you saw how his feet looked like... not feet, in fact, talons.
The werewolf, a weird guy with a mohawk for christ sake, didn't even try to hide it how much he was staring. Big eyes on top of you, tail wagging a bit too fast behind him as his wolf ears perked up and moved as the social worker talked. Still, his eyes were just on you, assessing your small and timid demeanour, how truly small a human could be, how defenseless you looked.
The wraith wasn't that different either. Staring at your face with a stoic and passive look, even tho a balaclava with some skull prints covered most of his face besides the eyes, that had some... shadowy thing around them. He looked bigger than the others, but you could still see he was sligthly shorter than the Dragon, he was just buffer, and was also staring directly at you. He almost forgot how pathetic humans could be.
All of them were caught a little of guard, actually.
You were small, already small for a human, but for hybrids? Almost like a little kid. Humans rarely build much muscle throughout their teens too, so you looked like a skinny little thing, differently from how other races' kids worked. You looked like a small, young child, but even their little kids had some kind of protection. Sharp teeths, or shap claws, or sharp talons, or any kind of ability that could defend themselves.
You had nothing of the sort. You didn't have any nails, basically, short as they were in a small and delicate little hand. Feet tucked safely inside your round little sneakers, feet that, of course, wouldn't have any talons, and were delicate enough to have to stay protected by shoes. Your teeth were round and flat, looked so small too, just like your short tongue. You were soft, all soft and small and delicate. Just like a human is compared to hybrids.
Johnny had to control himself not to coo at the sight as you gently licked your uper lip and quietly fidget in place, slightly behind the big bear hybrid that was your social worker. They had a lot of kids, and he was there since all of them were a baby, but since they were all hybrids, seeing a small little thing like you, unprotected and without any kind of abilities... it made something stirr inside of him.
All of the others were in the same boat, to be fair. Parental instincts going into high overdrive just by looking at you. John was just trying his best to pretend he wasn't that effected since he still needed to pay attention to the social worker, and Kyle was making a good job of discreetly nudging Johnny and Simon so they could stop staring so hard at you.
"So, if any trouble arises, you can always call me. Even if it's just questions, anything you might be worried about, i'll help you out. Is that okay?"
"Perfectly fine, ma'am." The dragon immediatly answers, smiling neutrally as he nods.
"Yeah, this isn't our first time doing this." The harpy jokes slightly, charming smile on his face as he makes your social worker laugh a little bit with him.
"I know it isn't, boys, but it is your first time taking care of a human." She points out, a small smile on her face despite the serious tone. "They are not the same as hybrids, you know that."
"Of course. We're going to be very careful with them, don't worry." The dragon immediatly goes to sooth her worries, nodding easily.
"As i hope. Please, call me if you need anything! And, good luck, boys!"
Now, it's just you and your four new foster parents.
Part 2
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on-the-clear-blue · 10 months ago
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Dead Man's Diner pt3
Dick knew that Tim was sending him looks every few seconds.
How could he not? This places food names were honestly the best, if this was some kinda murder cult Dick would be so disappointed.
Glancing up over the menu at Danny, Dick smiled at the teen who had been whipping down the same cup for five minutes like some wild west bartender while trying very hard not to stare at the two vigilantes.
"Okay, I think I have made up my mind, Red you got what you wanted?" Finally meeting Tim's eyes, Dick mentally winced, Tim's eyes were doing that twitchy thing that happened sometimes...
"Yes. I am." Dick understand slightly but like...the puns weren't that bad
Out of the corner of his eye Dick saw Danny pop up, nearly slamming the mug he had been holding as he fumbled with a note pad, coming closer to the two, he did a pretty decent customer service smile as he waited.
Since Tim was having a problem with words, Dick went first.
"So, I'll have some Boo-berry Poltergeist pancakes, with two sunny side up eggs and a side of bacon?" Dick watched as Danny paused for a moment, let out a little laugh and then started to write before looking to Tim.
"I will have...Ugh, the Wraith waffles with the hunting hashbrowns on the side...please." Dick had seen Tim look less pained over being stabbed than say the wonderful puns.
"Alrighty, anything to drink before I head back and get started on your order?" Holding up a coffee jug in one hand and an orange juice jug in the other, Danny gave a slight smirk.
Perhaps it was the coffee but Tim looked a bit less pained after that.
---
As he slapped down a few pieces of bacon, Danny totally didn't use his ghost powers to bring the bowl of pancake batter over closer as he scooped a ladle full on a freshly buttered side of the flat top, making sure it set first, Danny heard a beep from the frier, heading over he paused to see French fries in there as well.
Shaking his head, he dunked them all into the oil, and moved to set the timer only to see it already clicking down, "Oh um...thank you very much." Patting the deep frier, Danny moved back to the flat top as it let out a gurgling purr.
---
Tim took all of five seconds after Danny rounded the corner into the back of the house to start whispering
"Wing, this place is mocking me. Apple apparition pie? Haunting Hashbrowns? Ethereal fucking eggs benedict." Hissing Tim shifted in his seat, "like I would get it if this place was ghost themed but it very clearly isnt! It is mocking me because I know this place doesn't exist!" Slamming a fist down on the counter, it very much thudded.
Sharing a look with Tim, Dick placed a hand on Tim's shoulder, "Buddy...I agree there is something up with this place but...I very much think it exists? Since we are kinda sitting here."
Dragging his hand down his face with a groan Tim leaned back in his seat, "I know and it is infuriating me..." Grabbing the coffee mug Tim looked at it with a not insignificant amount of distrust before taking a swig, pausing, than taking another, much slower sip, holding the mug with both hands as he lowered it down, staring at the dark liquid with a small glare.
"Red? You okay? Is that the bad coffee look ot oh shittake mushrooms that was poisoned look?" Dick said worryingly, looking to the cup of orange juice that was in front of him with suspicion.
"N-no...I" Tim's words cut off as he took a breath, "Just...tastes just like the kind Mom used to drink, came from this little town in Chile they passed through..." staring at the cup a little longer Tim shook his head, "They closed a few years back, the farmer that made it got killed by a drug cartel that wanted him to plant coca rather than coffee, it's just that this place should very much not have this."
There was a tension between the two vigilantes, Dick moving to speak before being cut off by Danny quickly coming out from the back.
"Order up! Got two pancakes for Mr. Nightwing, side of bacon and eggs and two waffles for Mr. Red Robin with some hasbrowns!" Setting each plate down in front of said vigilante, Danny gave them both a grin.
"And a side of Phantom fries for both of you on the house!"
After refilling the little bit missing out of Tim's cup, Danny seemed to be to there one second and back in the kitchen a moment later.
---
"Phantom fries?" Danny whispered to himself as he started to clean off the griddle, a grin on his face as he did, he might of left the hero business, but oh God was it funny, he wondered if other people got the same fun out of it.
Checking out on he customers through the small window to the front, Danny felt his core thrum at the sight of the two eating, it was a different kind of thrum that he got while protecting people, this one...this one gave him a full body shudder and cleared a fog in his mind he didn't even he had.
Shaking his head, Danny tried not to let the purr building in his chest out.
---
Screw the worries that Tim had, Dick was having the time of his life.
"We can't tell the others about this place Red...Little wing would try and place it in the Alley and B might try and buy it cus holy guacamole this shit is good..." Dick had dug in after Tim's wrist mounted computer had tested the food for any known poisons which said that there weren't any, but still went and saved a few samples for further analysis at the Cave.
Dick didn't know why but the pancakes tasted like those that Alfred made the first week he had been at the manor, he had gotten upset at Brcue and hid in the attic all day, but Alfred managed to lure him down with the promise of blueberries in his pancakes.
They were perfectly fluffy, butter soaked with that little edge around it that was crunchy, the berries were tart enough to battle the maple syrup and...it was just like how Dick remembered.
Shaking his head as he finished up his food, Dick threw a look over at Tim, who was hunched over his empty plate, holding his mug of coffee closer, at Dicks questioning look the teen spoke.
"We have to leave Wing something is just...off about this place, its...they taste like when my dad used to make breakfast after coming home from a dig...has to be brain waves or mind reading or..." Tim continued to ramble on, ideas flowing out of him like a water fall.
By the time that Danny went back to check on the two, they were gone.
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asidian · 1 year ago
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I've seen a lot of talk about how hell affected Edwin's pain tolerance, but not very much breaking down how it seems to have affected the way he manages emotion. So to that end, here we go:
Edwin Payne vs emotions (and how his no good very bad helltime messed with him something awful)
Dead Boy Detectives does a very good job early on of establishing the fact that Edwin is not particularly good with people. He's stilted, he's repressed, and though he can be incredibly kind to the people he cares about, he can also be quite abrasive, particularly to those he doesn't know well.
Time and time again, we see Charles step in to be the face man. Charles is the one to greet the clients, to take note of their names, to set them at ease. Charles is the one to support Crystal emotionally, and his interactions with Edwin seem to imply that he's done the same for Edwin, over the years. Charles has to remind Edwin to mind his bedside manner, and he explains to Crystal that Edwin forgets how to talk to people sometimes, because of how long he spent in hell.
In short, these boys compensate for each other's strengths and weaknesses in a lot of ways, and Charles is very much the one doing the emotional heavy lifting in this partnership.
And there's a reason for that, laid out in the text and subtext all throughout the show, and the narrative handles it brilliantly.
Edwin's actor does a fantastic job in expressing the character's reactions – or rather, lack of them. Because in the most shocking scenes throughout the show, Edwin often doesn't seem as horrified as the others in the face of events that ought to be horrific. In the Devlin house, he seems as though the murders scarcely affect him. When the jumper at the top of the lighthouse throws herself down, he's downright composed in comparison to everyone else.
And Edwin repeatedly shows or expresses that emotion makes him uncomfortable. When Crystal and Charles are fighting in episode five, he requests that they set their feelings aside until the case is finished. At the end of the episode, he says that the day has been entirely too full of emotions for his taste.
So, what is it specifically about emotion that bothers him so much?
In hell, emotion meant an awful, bloody death.
Panicking over potential incoming horrors? Nope, sorry, too loud. Dead again. Having a sobbing breakdown in a corner? Nope, sorry, too loud. Injured and trying to keep it down so it doesn't get worse? Nope, sorry, that's too loud, too.
Again and again, we see Edwin trying to tamp down on his emotions, but also, tellingly, trying to keep his emotions subdued and quiet.
When Charles finds him in hell, he's crying without making a single sound. When Esther starts to torture him in episode eight, he doesn't scream at first. He's trained himself out of making noise when something hurts or frightens him.
Of course he wants to set emotions aside until the case is done. He's spent seventy years learning what happens if you don't. You take care of business first. If, and only if, there's an after? That's when you let yourself feel.
Early on, when Edwin and Charles need to find the correct book but Edwin is unable to access their office due to the Cat King's bracelet, Edwin is upset. He's frustrated and out of sorts, blocked from making progress on the thing he knows he needs to be doing – hurting himself trying to get his arm through the mirror until Charles stops him. It's Charles who has to step in and help him calm down. It's Charles who has to remind him to breathe through what is very likely a panicked throwback to those times when if he could not solve his way out of a problem, it would very literally get him killed. In this scene, we get a brief glimpse of how Edwin looks when he starts to lose his grip on his rigid control.
And that's before we even get to these things:
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Because as awful as the doll spider was, it wasn't the only thing skulking around the Doll House. Charles stumbles across misery wraiths when he goes to rescue Edwin from hell – and we know from the Devlin house episode that Edwin is extremely aware of what they do and how they operate. They were in his space, looking for despair to feed off during a time when he had it in spades.
Taken all together? It's an absolutely heartbreaking picture.
This boy seemed a little socially awkward before his death, from what we see of his time before hell. But afterward? He's had seventy long years of having to teach himself to regulate his own emotions, under pain of excruciating torture if he didn't do it well enough.
With an object lesson like that, over and over again, for literal decades, it's no wonder that Edwin has such a hard time navigating emotions and everything surrounding them.
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demonic0angel · 7 months ago
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Ma'am, I need more of Dan/Wraith in Arkham 😭 and maybe him managing to get out and meeting Dick again. Pretty please with strawberry cream on top 🥹🥹
(I’m lowkey surprised by how many people like this AU XD It got rather long lmao)
Part 1, part 2, part 4
Selina stared at the man that was sitting in her living room alongside her best friends. Harley was happily chattering his ear off, with Ivy interjecting now and then. The man, Wraith, patiently listened to Harley’s ranting, with only a little objecting whenever she went off-topic too much. He did not breathe and he rarely blinked, similar to a statue.
Or she supposed he was more like a phantom, with his abilities that he had used to help them all escape Arkham when they had attracted too many guards’ attentions.
Although he was creepy and he made the temperature of her living room drop several times, he had helped them all and he was very polite. She couldn’t find any real fault in him except the way her instincts wanted her to not look at him directly, like a haunted painting.
“So now that we’re free, what do you wanna do?” Harley asked. Selina focused back on the conversation, as Wraith hummed and Ivy and Harley turned to look at her with various levels of eagerness.
“There’s a new jewelry exhibit opening up tomorrow. Want to take some diamonds?” Selina asked, speaking up as she glanced at Wraith.
Wraith hummed. “Thank you, but I think I’ll decline. If any of you need help, I am willing to offer my services, but—”
“Is Nightwing still in Gotham?” Harley asked, interrupting Wraith, who glared at her.
Selina raised an eyebrow. “Yeah. He’s still visiting.”
“Actually, I would love to assist you three in any way. My powers are at your service. What time are we going to the exhibit tomorrow?” Wraith suddenly said, looking very eager. Selina blinked at the whiplash before looking at Harley and Ivy, who both looked amused.
It was Ivy who mouthed the words, ‘He likes Nightwing,’ to her, which made her hold back a laugh.
She could remember that little Robin that used to cheerfully break someone’s face with a flying somersault, and that same little boy had grown up into a vigilante with almost flying abilities with the way he moved and fought. Wraith was a criminal, since he was in Arkham, but he didn’t seem too bad. In a way, it reminded her of her and Bruce.
“Well. I think Ivy and Harley can take the other vigilantes, right? I can take Batman and you’ll take Nightwing?” Selina said. Wraith perked up and nodded happily.
How cute. She was so not telling Bruce about this beforehand, so she could laugh about his expression later.
A day passed, and the four of them traveled to the museum when it was night. By now, news of Harley and Ivy being broken out was already known, so security had gotten a little more strict. Still, it was nothing with all of their expertise and Wraith’s unexplained meta abilities. They snuck in easily and looted all of the gold, gems, jewelry, and antiques they saw.
“Where’s your bag?” Selina asked, as she eyed Wraith holding some pearls and gems without a bag to contain it. He was dressed in a dark leather suit that had been originally Bruce’s cat suit— it was nice to hope that he would join her one day— but was now repurposed for Wraith. Her question was answered with a small smile from Wraith as he shoved his hand into his chest, making the gems disappear. Her eyebrows rose but she just gave a nod and moved on.
After that, the bigger and heavier items were given to Wraith to keep. Selina was almost a little worried by how much they trusted him, but Harley didn’t seem to notice and only she and Ivy had some anxiety about it. However, Wraith didn’t seem to care either, and listened to their expertise without any hesitation. It was probably because he was younger than them by at least a decade, she realized.
He was extremely fascinating, and Selina suddenly understood why Harley was so interested in him like a scientist towards a petri dish.
The Gotham heroes finally arrived, just as they loaded up everything in the car. Wraith perked up when he saw Nightwing amongst the vigilantes coming towards them.
Selina couldn’t help but laugh at the sudden cheer on his usually bored or blank expression.
“Okay, Harley, Ivy, you two go back to the hideout. Wraith, you can take me away if we need to, right?” Selina asked, smiling as she recalled Wraith’s intangibility and invisibility abilities yesterday.
Wraith nodded and the other two drove off without hesitation, leaving Selina and Wraith facing the Gotham vigilantes. Wraith wagged his clawed fingers in a greeting at Nightwing, smirking broadly.
“Hello, Nightwing. It’s good to see you again,” he purred. Selina was watching the spectacle gleefully, occasionally glancing at Batman’s covered expression, wondering if she was going to see a good show today.
Nightwing faltered in his steps before he shook his head as if to clear his thoughts. However, he answered pleasantly, “Hello, Wraith. I see you’ve befriended the Sirens.”
“Mhm. They helped me a lot so I could see you again.”
Nightwing’s cheeks darkened but through the shadows, Selina felt like she could see a bit of red on his face. “I see. Well, I’ll have to ask you guys to give up the jewelry you stole. We can do this the hard way or the easy way.”
“Please do the hard way,” Wraith purred again, even throatier than before. Selina had to choke on her giggles as Batman stiffened in horror, staring between his oldest son and the criminal.
Nightwing coughed and took out his escrima sticks. “Well, you’re under arrest, Wraith. Surrender and we won’t have to—”
“Oh my god, just fight him! Stop flirting!” Spoiler screamed and then they all flew into action. Selina took out her whip, but before she could make a move, Wraith darted at her, wrapped his arms around her, and then turned invisible before they flew off through the walls.
Selina blinked rapidly as she watched the museum grow smaller and smaller into the distance. “… you could fly the entire time?”
“Hmm? Oh yes, I’m very strong.” There was a touch of deep arrogance in Wraith’s voice. Then he sighed, “But I was told not to make too much trouble. So it’s better to make an early escape than stick around.”
“I would’ve thought that you would’ve stayed to flirt with Nightwing some more,” Selina teased.
“It’s weird to flirt in front of his siblings,” Wraith said in distaste as they flew over the building roofs and past the clouds to Selina’s hideout. “I’ll find another day to fight him without voyeurs around.”
Selina burst into laughter. Yeah, she could completely understand why Ivy and Harley wanted to take him in now. He really was quite interesting.
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Once again obsessed with how they chose to execute Silco because they showed us upfront and center his vulnerable human side on multiple occasions. They didn’t save it to the very end. Throughout the run of S1 the animators gave us moments of him confused, off-balanced, frightened, distraught, introspective, conflicted, panicked, content, pleading, sentimental, smug, in pain, irritated, pathetic, petty, enraged, and ideologically sincere.
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Like they could have just made him a one-note schemer. Too often villains are restricted to only a few emotions to preserve their threatening veneer—smugness, violence, sadism, and/or cold calculation, and thus when they are shown frustrated or confused, it is typically at the point in the story where the narrative begins to aid the hero in sabotaging this mask of smooth-sailing evil. But throughout the season Silco is shown front and center as being a man, and compared to the rest of the League lore not even that exemplary or notable. This man is a mob boss, a drug kingpin. He’s as mundane as mashed potatoes compared to Jinx or even Sevika. He’s just a rags-to-riches underworld wraith that managed to monopolize his city like the Mafia with nothing more than big plans, business acumen, charisma, and the back-alley-boardroom ruthlessness to see it come true. And even despite all of those dehumanizing qualities (what is it people say about how naked ambition or wealth can make you less human), he’s still shown displaying a wide range of emotions that I’ve not seen very often on ‘the bad guy’ of his make and caliber, let alone out in the open and throughout the runtime. These moments aren’t stingers or cracks in the facade, they’re presented as parts of him that flow freely in privacy. He has not granted himself a total emotional embargo. In fact they give us so many scenarios of Silco feeling different things and feeling them succinctly that Silco’s character arguably refutes the expectation of how a man —let alone a fictional man, let alone a fictional mob boss with a drug empire and a city and a murderous enmity for his enemies—should manage his emotions.
It’s just really good and cool, okay.
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empresskylo · 2 years ago
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➠𝐌𝐃𝐍𝐈; 𝟏𝟖+ 𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐓; 𝐄𝐗𝐏𝐋𝐈𝐂𝐈𝐓 𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐓
ZOMBIE!SIMON 'GHOST' RILEY X AFAB!READER
SUMMARY | Simon is dead. And you were forced to leave him behind as the rise of the dead took over. When you volunteer to sneak back into base to grab med supplies, you don't expect to run into Simon—alive, but certainly not himself...
WARNINGS | dead dove do not eat! this is literally smut about zombie!ghost... so... beware i suppose. gore. dub-con?? afab!reader. wc 3k
⋇⋆✦⋆⋇ lock me up! send me to jail!!! i can't believe I wrote this yes i can. This is how down bad i am for Ghost, I literally wrote smut about fucking him as a zombie... someone send the authorities, i need my internet taken away. (happy oct 1st btw)
𝐜𝐨𝐝 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 ✩ 𝐦𝐚𝐢𝐧 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭
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It had been less than two days since you lost Simon.
The image of him dying in the infirmary wing, bleeding out on the bed, was plastered behind your eyes. You saw it every waking moment and even dreamt of it during the night. You could still feel Soap’s hands squeezing your arms far too aggressively as he dragged you out of the infirmary while you cried out for Simon. You tried to claw your way to him but Soap was stronger than you by a long shot. “We have to get out of here!” he shouted at you over the cacophony of voices, people running around frantically. You let him drag you away to safety, your body limp in his hold, thinking of Simon’s dying breath.
The infirmary had promptly been boarded up, the doors all sealed tight. The breakout had begun a few weeks ago and it only just infiltrated the base. When Ghost had come back, bleeding out after a mission gone wrong, you furiously checked him for bite marks. The relief you felt when you didn’t find any was short-lived. Simon had lost a lot of blood. Too much blood. You could still see it covering your hands the days following like a wraith. You felt like his blood was still wedged under your fingernails even after scrubbing your hands violently in a bucket of water. 
With the infirmary infected and the outside world gone, you had little options but to hunker down in the barracks. There were small hunting groups that would leave base and dare to edge into the city, trying to help people, and gathering resources. Ghost had been in one of those first groups to leave the safe confines of base. You wished you had begged him to stay. Pleaded with him not to go. 
The lights above you flickered, the generator not the most reliable of equipment. You looked across the table to your teammates, trying to keep yourself pulled together. It was only at night that you let yourself feel the pain, crying yourself to sleep. 
“We’re never gonna survive here if we don’t get that medical supplies,” Soap explained. 
“It’s too dangerous, Soap. We have no idea how bad it got in there. We have no way of knowing if all the bodies left behind turned,” Price retorted, pulling off his beanie and running his hand through his hair in nerves. 
“So, what then? We’re gonna send more men off to die, tryin’ to get shit from the city?”
Price closed his eyes momentarily. The bags forming under them showed just how little sleep he was getting. “We can’t risk more men. We’d be sendin’ them to their death, Soap. We don’t have the ammo to spare.”
“We don’t know that. We’re still not even sure if it's a guarantee the dead will change, or if they have to be bit.”
“It’s too–”
You cut the men off. “I can go.” Both their heads snapped in your direction. “I’m just a technician. With everything gone to shit, I haven’t been as much help as you guys have been. I can’t fight. I can’t–”
“No. We’re not riskin’ you,” Soap said sternly. 
“Soap,” you breathed. “I’m the only one here that isn’t crucial to the team. And don’t argue with me. It’s just a fact. Let me go. I can sneak in and grab what we need. I’m far quieter than any of you boisterous men anyways.”
Soap breathed your name. He was worried about you. He could see the pain in your eyes after losing Simon. He was worried this was a suicide mission. And that you wanted that. 
“Let me be of use,” you begged. Soap wanted to argue. So did Price. But you were right. You would be the fastest. And as much as they valued you, the remaining men couldn’t survive here without Soap or Price. 
“Lass, are you sure?” Soap said finally. He wanted you to feel useful, but he didn’t want you running off and risking your life because of the pain you felt from losing Simon. 
“Let me do it, Soap. Please. I need this.”
He couldn’t argue with you. He didn’t have it in him to hurt you more than you were already hurting. 
“Fine. But I’m not happy about this.”
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You stood in your gear, an empty backpack plastered to your back waiting to be filled with medical supplies. Price had gone over the layout of the wing with you, showing you exactly where you needed to go to get the right supplies on a map of the building. 
You stood before the infirmary doors, the ones that would lead to a long, winding hall that would bring you to the center of the infirmary. Off of that were several rooms and more halls, and a surgical floor. It was a large span of space to cover, but you believed you could do this. 
“Be quick about it, lass. We’ll be right here when you get back,” Soap said to you, his hand resting on your shoulder. 
You took in a breath and walked up to the doors that had been unlocked, a large piece of plywood that had previously been nailed against it, removed so you could go in. Before you reached out to the door handle, you turned around and rushed into Soap’s arms. He held you tightly, your head tucked right under his chin. “Don’t you fuckin’ die on me,” he mumbled into your hair. 
You pulled back and gave him a sad smile. Then you nodded at Price and faced the daunting doors again. Once you stepped through the threshold and the doors shut behind you, you could hear the plywood being put back up, a hammer nailing it in place. When you got back, you were to knock and Soap would be there waiting to let you back in. 
The hall was flickering with a few overhead lights, the generator still powering a few of the rooms in this wing. 
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Ghost had a glazed-over expression when he rolled off his medical bed. The room around him was silent apart from the ticking of a clock in the corner. There was blood pooled all around him and dripping onto the tiled floor as he stood. He had some semblance of who he was, of what happened, but most of his thoughts were hazed over like he was stuck in a daydream. 
He had walked the length of the room, a sudden craving for food hitting the pit of his stomach. Any sound made him snap in that direction, rushing towards it as if on cue. He heard banging coming from one of the med rooms, the door locked and nailed over with whatever scrap of wood they could find. More people like him were trapped behind those doors, their groaning echoing down the hall. 
Ghost limped as he walked, remembering how he had been shot in his leg. He looked down at his crimson-stained pants, almost like he should be feeling pain, but he felt nothing. 
Days had passed and he roamed the halls aimlessly, not even getting bored. His mind had drifted off, somewhere that wasn’t in his body, allowing him to walk around like a zombie, completely void of any logical thought. 
He grumbled as he made his rounds, stuck in a time loop, walking down the flickering hall again and again, passing by bodies that had been left behind. 
He hesitated when he heard something. He turned to look in the direction of the noise, intrigued. It sounded like someone had just walked blindly into a metal medical tray, knocking instruments onto the floor. His movements were fast and nimble as he approached the sound. 
He froze in place when he saw you–though he didn’t know who you were at that moment. You cursed yourself for being loud but didn’t hear anything in retaliation so you figured you were safe. Your hand rested on the knife strapped to your hip anyway.
You were edging towards the main infirmary double doors, your hand touching the metal of the handle. You should go in there and get supplies, but that’s where you had last seen Simon. You didn’t have it in you to see what had become of him, his body rotting alone. 
Instead, you walked down the hall and into a storage closet, oblivious to the shell of Ghost who trailed behind you. 
You left the door to the storage room open to let in a few strips of light so you could see better. You hunched over and began to dig through the supplies that had been thrown all over the floor in panic. 
Ghost rolled his neck as he saw you in the room, your back to him. He had a sudden urge to sink his teeth deep into your skin, to tear you to shreds. In fact, he wanted nothing more; the instinct was overpowering. 
But when he got close, he could hear your voice as you mumbled to yourself, going over the list of the items you needed. You held up a pack of linens, trying to see if they were clean. “These will have to do,” you said softly, shoving them into your backpack. 
A wave of familiarity surfaced inside Ghost, a strange feeling of being alive pumping through his veins. When he got to the doorframe, he could smell you. His senses heightened, the waft of your natural scent sent Ghost into a daze. He remembered—though he wasn’t sure what he was remembering. All he knew was that he recognized that smell. 
His body had felt like it was in hibernation, his motors set on autopilot as he mindlessly walked down the halls. But suddenly, Ghost’s true mind was brought to the forefront. And his body craved you, though not in the way he had just moments earlier. He didn’t want to sink his teeth into your neck, he wanted to feel your warmth against him. 
Ghost moved with such dexterity and silence, it was clear he was no longer human. When you stood, his arms immediately wrapped around you, eliciting a scream from your throat. 
Ghost still wasn’t fully comprehending what was happening; all he knew was that his body wanted you. His hand slid up around your neck, leaving a trail of blood on your clothes. He tried to speak, but he couldn't fathom what he wanted to say. All that came out was a strangled groan. 
You sputtered, trying to catch your breath as your heart raced in your chest. Ghost felt for your pulse beneath his fingertips, relishing in the way your blood pumped through your body. 
You turned your head slightly, spying the man who had you trapped against the many shelves in the closet.
It was Simon.
Terror flooded your system. He didn’t look like himself. His eyes were glossed over, his pupils and iris almost unidentifiable, the entirety of his eyes were white, appearing like he was blind. The blood that had soaked his face had congealed, the rusted color running down his clothes where he was shot in the chest and leg. He looked just how you left him, and it sent a sense of terror through you. 
“S-Simon?” You whispered, unsure if you were caught in a nightmare. 
A groan escaped his cracked lips. You gulped. He had become one of them . 
You were certain he was about to tear you apart, just as you had seen other fallen men do to your teammates. You closed your eyes, tears rushing down your cheeks as you prepared for the worst. His hands felt cold around your neck, like ice. You shivered against him. You accepted your fate—a small part of you actually wanted it. You wanted him to end you. To take you down with him. You didn't want to be alone anymore.
He nuzzled his nose against your neck and you squeezed your eyes shut, preparing for him to bite you. But it never came. 
Instead, he just moved his nose against you, smelling your hair and skin. His hands were still locked tightly against you, but they began to travel across your body. You opened your eyes in shock. Ghost’s hands trailed your chest, groping you with one hand, the other sprawling over the front of your thigh and stomach. You gasped in surprise. 
You felt him harden against you, something you had experienced many times before now, and the familiarity of it made your heart pound with mixed emotions. Your mind was too caught up trying to decipher what was happening to truly take the moment in. 
Ghost’s cold hands slid under your black shirt, snaking their way up to your breasts, cupping each one in his hands. Your nipples immediately hardened from the iciness of his touch. He ground himself against your backside, making you close your eyes in a moment of reprieve. You got lost in the past, imagining this was how it used to be. How he had touched you so many times before. 
You breathed his name and he seemed to like that, for he rolled his hips against you harder, his chest rumbling in satisfaction. 
The cold of his hands left you, making you oddly yearn to have them back on your skin. His fingers traced the hem of your pants before aggressively pulling them down. He got them past the curve of your ass and turned your bodies so your hips hit the edge of a shelving unit that acted as a table. You knocked all the supplies off as Ghost pushed you down against it, using your hands to catch yourself. 
Ghost shuffled with his own pants, wasting no time at all to slip himself inside you. You called out in a brief shock of pain. He held himself deep within you, his hands squeezing as he held you, his body bent over slightly, his chest flat against your back. Your own hands reached out to grab the edge of the table to help steady yourself. The searing heat of you against his frozen skin spread through him like wildfire.
Your cries ignited a flame in Ghost’s chest—the feel of your body, the sound of your gasps, the smell of your hair—felt natural, like this was exactly what he was supposed to be doing. That he was made to take you like this. That your body against him was something so ingrained in his system, that he had no choice to to let his limbs move on muscle memory. 
He began to thrust inside you, your hips hitting the table with each snap of his hips. His hand snaked around your neck, the smear of blood now coating your skin. One of your hands came up to wrap around his wrist, resting it there in support. 
You groaned as he rocked into you harder. The pain from his sudden intrusion had subsided, and now you were filled with a haze of rapture. A tear slid down your cheek. You were unable to process what was happening, but what you did know was that you had missed Simon more than anything and that this wasn’t real. This wouldn’t last longer than this moment in time. 
Ghost’s chest rumbled in pleasure as he thrusted into you. Your walls squeezed around him and he let out a loud groan. His arm not clutching your neck wrapped around your midsection, pulling you away from the table so you were flesh against him. He held you tight, almost like he couldn’t get you close enough. That if he had his way, he’d let you make a home beneath his skin. 
His hips snapped vehemently against you, his pace quickening. You moaned, your sounds coming out strangled as his cold hand held your neck. Your walls tightened around him, your climax rapidly approaching. You couldn’t quite believe that you were not only fucking your dead boyfriend, but you were going to come in record time. 
You were absolutely intoxicating to him as your warmth clenched down on him, your heat something recognizable to him, and yet, the intimacy was foreign at the same time. Now that he was devoid of his usual body temperature, the warm feeling of you around him was almost painful. 
When you mewled and cried under him, your walls spasaming, he drew himself to the edge right behind you. Ghost came inside you with a great urge, growling in your ear as he tried to support the two of you. You felt him fill you, the white fluid seeping out around where his cock continued to pump in and out of you. His movements became sloppy, your legs shaking, your hand clutching onto his wrist for dear life. 
You couldn’t hold back the cascade of tears, finally letting them flow as Ghost slowed his pace before stopping altogether. He edged out of you, his arms hesitantly letting you go, and you immediately turned around to face him, burying your face in his chest. You sobbed as he stood there. His arms didn’t reach out and hold you like he once would. He didn’t try to comfort you like he always did so well. 
But still, he just let you huddle against him, taking what you needed from him. He didn’t attack you. He didn’t try to kill you. He wasn’t himself, but he wasn’t fully gone either. You turned to look up at him, resting your chin on his chest. He looked down and you stifled a cry. His white eyes were going to be permanently burned into your mind, haunting you for eternity. His face was sullen and blanched, blood smearing all across him; fresh blood dripping slightly from his mouth.
You tentatively reached a hand up and rested it on his frozen cheek. “I’m sorry,” you mumbled. Ghost made no indication he could even hear you. 
You took in a deep breath, willing yourself to do this, and stepped back. You adjusted yourself before slowly reaching down for your bag. Ghost stood and watched you, the only thing moving was the tilt of his head as he traced your movements. 
You shuffled to the door, anticipating him to reach out and end this daydream, ripping you apart. But he just watched you go, his mind riddled with foggy thoughts. He wanted to tear into you, but another part of him prevented him from doing so. He wanted to grab you and hold you against him for some reason. He liked the warmth your body provided. But another part of him felt nothing at all. 
He watched you leave in a stupor, his mind just barely grasping onto the image and memory of you. It’s true, he wasn’t completely gone, but he was fading fast. 
You cried violently as you stumbled back to the exit. When you banged on the doors, you heard the plywood being ripped off and the doors swinging open. Soap pulled you back into the base and held you at arm's length. “What happened?” he asked desperately. You were sobbing and covered in blood.
Should you tell him? Would Soap let you return to Simon knowing he wasn’t gone? Or would they make you stay here, letting Simon slip away forever? 
You suddenly regretted leaving him. You should have stayed with Simon, even if he was a shell of who he used to be. You should have waited the time out together until he fully lost himself, and you would let him take you down with him. 
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dilemmaontwolegs · 1 year ago
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The Nickname Runs in the Family || CL16
Summary: When you end up crying on your father’s shoulder over a boy, Kimi enlists the help of Charles to teach him a lesson. Charles Leclerc x Raikkonen!Reader Warnings: nsfw, fighting, mentions of sex, WC: 2.9k
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To the outside world Kimi was known as ‘The Iceman’, garnered for his cold personality in the media and how he never let anything bother him, at home however he was just called isä or dad. You really could have done with more of The Iceman persona because when it came to his family your father was anything but cool and collected.
“Tell me what happened,” Kimi demanded, your tears only streaming faster down your cheeks.
“Nothing happened, dad.”
“Something happened, tytär, don’t lie to me.”
It was stupid to go there after what happened. You should have just returned to your student accommodation at the college but you needed the comfort of home and someone you trusted. Now all of Monaco was going to hear just how hotheaded The Iceman got while your step-mother tried to put your baby half-sister back to sleep.
“Nothing happened!” you sobbed, burying your face in your hands as embarrassment flamed across your cheeks. “I said no, okay. I said no and he called me a frigid bitch before dumping me and leaving me at the party.”
You expected to hear something break, or at least his heavy stomps storming towards the front door. You didn’t expect your dad to throw his head back and laugh, a deep belly laugh that echoed around the quiet living room. 
“Ah, that’s my girl,” he laughed as he bundled you into a hug. “I like that, Frigid Bitch. It’s good.”
You snorted a laugh despite the hurt and wiped your tears on his shoulder. “I thought you would be angry.”
“Oh, I am,” he admitted somberly. He placed a kiss on your head before standing up and pulling his phone out of his pocket. You didn’t see who he was calling so late at night but groaned when it was answered. “Hello, Charles. You know everyone in Monaco, where does Devereux Laurent live?”
“Isä! No!”
Your father ignored you as he grabbed his car keys and his jacket, his phone shoved between his shoulder and his ear. “I’m not going to kill the little bastard, fuck, Charles, I just want to have a chat.”
The door slammed shut behind him and you collapsed back onto the sofa with a groan about keeping your mouth shut next time. You were still ruminating over your life choices when the doorbell rang an hour later. 
“Charles?” You frowned at the man panting in your doorway like he sprinted across the city before your eyes widened at the split lip he sported. “What are you doing here? What happened?”
“Kimi.”
“Fuck.” 
“Yeah.”
You grabbed your purse that had been discarded on the kitchen table when you arrived. “Where is he?” 
“The police station.”
“Shit, he didn’t do that to you, did he?”
Charles reeled back, clearly offended. “No, you’re asshole boyfriend hit me.”
“I don’t have a boyfriend,” you clarified as you dragged him inside and grabbed a tea towel to wrap a bag of peas from the freezer. Charles flinched as you gently pressed the ice pack to his lips and you sighed. “I’m sorry my dad got you involved in this.”
“It’s okay,” he murmured, taking the pack from your hand to place it on his swollen knuckles that you hadn’t noticed. “I got myself involved when I heard what Dev did. Are you okay?”
“I didn’t get punched in the face,” you said as you playfully rolled your eyes, however you soon sobered. “It's nothing a few drinks and a bad romcom can’t fix, after I’ve bailed dad out first. It’s not like we were together long enough to get heartbroken. Do you want me to drop you off on the way?”
“I’ll drive.” He snatched a set of keys from the hook by the door, but you caught his wrist and took them back.
“That’s Minttu’s minivan.” You hung the keys back on the hook and grabbed a set for your dad’s Rolls Royce Wraith instead. The empty hook beside it was where the keys to his Ferrari Pista usually hung. “She wouldn’t be happy if you crashed her car again.”
“I didn’t crash her car,” he argued as he pocketed the keys and opened the door. “You were driving!”
“I had a shit instructor. You were too busy checking yourself out in the mirror to teach me.”
His finger jabbed the call button for the elevator as he scoffed. “You only know that because you were too busy checking me out to watch the road.”
The elevator arrived but you held a hand out to block him as you stepped into the small space. “Sorry, your inflated ego is too big to fit in here.” 
“That wasn’t a denial.”
You ignored him and jutted your head to the fireproof door. “Try the stairs.”
“But we’re on the top floor.”
You smirked as the doors started to close but he darted inside before they sealed shut.
“You’re still not denying it.”
“So you really went swinging for my honour?” you deflected as he hit the button for the garage level, exposing his swollen fist again.
“You sound surprised.” He leaned back against the wall and looked at his hand, massaging the tender bruises. “When I saw he was still at the party…”
You frowned, first at the fact that Dev went back after leaving you there, asshole, then at the fact Charles knew where he was. Charles was definitely not at the party, if he was then you would have heard the women going feral for him. “How did you know he was there? You don’t follow him on Instagram.”
“Not on my main account,” he said with a shrug. Anyone that Charles followed on social media made sure to announce the news like it was an instant ticket to ViP treatment, and Dev would have been no different. It was also the exact reason you went by Y/L/N, your mother’s surname, instead of Raikkonen. You didn’t want to be used by people for the name you carried. 
“You hate him, why would you follow him?”
“It doesn’t matter why.”
“It does to me.” 
Unfortunately the doors opened and he pushed off from the wall to stride past without an answer. A flash of lights responded to the click of the button on the keys and Charles slowed his steps for you as he led the way to the sedan parked in a secluded corner, the space beside it empty of your fathers red Pista. Charles stopped at your door and opened it for you, his eyes scanning the open space that was empty and quiet save for the whine of the elevator leaving the level. 
“For you,” he admitted as you slipped into the leather seat. “I followed him to keep an eye on you.”
The door closed and you watched him walk around the car, dropping into the driver’s seat before pushing it back to suit his longer legs. He then silently adjusted the mirrors and turned down the heavy rock music that blasted when the engine started. You didn’t know what to say, all you had were more questions that could only lead to more confusion.
“You deserve better,” Charles said, breaking the awkward silence as he pulled out into the street. 
“He was just drunk.” 
“That’s not an excuse. You deserve someone who will wait until you are ready to have sex, not try it on drunk and at a party.” His words were seething by the time he finished and his knuckles turned white from the tight grasp he had on the steering wheel.
“Uh, Charles, I was joking about my honour…I’m not a virgin.”
“Wait, what?” The car slammed to a halt and he earned a toot from the Lamborghini behind before it drove around when Charles didn’t move. “Since when?” he asked as he turned in his seat to face you.
“I didn’t realise it was such a big deal. Was I meant to stand at the corner and hold a sign that said ‘deflowered’ in Times New Roman or Comic Sans?”
He didn’t even blink at your icy tone and heavy sarcasm. “But Dev said he dumped you because you didn’t want to have sex. He didn’t force himself on you, did he?”
“Oh my god, no! I can’t believe we are having this conversation, Charles.” You figured it couldn't get any more awkward as you looked out the window into the sleeping city. “Sex wasn’t the problem, he was upset because I didn’t want to have sex with him.”
“Oh…oh.” He cleared his throat and put the car back into drive before continuing his way to the police station. “So, uh, is there anyone you do want to, um, have sex with at the moment?” 
“Why? Are you offering?” It was meant to sound teasing but there was too much curiosity in it.
His face flushed pink and his lips parted two twice before his voice worked. “I don’t do casual.”
It wasn’t a no, and that somehow made things both better and worse as a new possibility began to worm its way into your mind. You didn’t like the hope that fluttered in your stomach. Charles was a friend. Charles was someone your father trusted after Seb vouched for him. Charles was off limits. 
By the time you had filtered through the thoughts he had induced, Charles was pulling into the police station and you hoped your dad was fairing well behind bars. It turned out you had no reason to worry as you walked inside and heard his voice from behind the glass wall. 
Kimi was being well taken care of by the officers. He had a coffee in one hand, a pastry in the other and was answering questions that had nothing to do with Dev. You cringed as he recounted why he missed meeting Pelé years ago, but Charles chuckled along with the policemen as you knocked on the door.
The Monégasques fawned over their hometown hero while you watched Kimi pull himself to his feet, cracking his back that had stiffen while he was sat down. 
“I thought you would be in maximum security by now,” you said as he pulled you into a hug. “What did you do?”
He patted your cheek and smiled mischievously. “I like Charles even more now.”
He gave you nothing else but that was expected. Whatever happened was obviously not on the record and you wanted to keep it that way, especially since he didn’t have a single scratch on him - like he hadn’t been in a fight at all. You were quietly contemplating that knowledge when you climbed into the backseat of the Wraith and your father readjusted everything on the driver's side back to how he had it.
“You took the fall for Charles, didn’t you?”
They both swivelled back to look at you. Charles’ eyes widened, while your father’s narrowed. 
“Fucking hell, I’m not going to tell anyone,” you growled as you threw your arms up in exasperation. “I just want to know what actually happened tonight.”
Charles waited to see if your dad wasn’t going to explain as the car pulled out of the station car park. After a moment of hesitation he took a breath and started to rattle off the truth.
“I called Kimi when I realised Dev was still at the party. It was only a block away so I thought I would meet him there to point him out.”
“I was just about at the address he gave me when he called. I got there as fast as I could but Charles was already inside,” Kimi said with a proud chortle. “Got a few good hits on the little bastard too.”
“Iså,” you warned as he enjoyed the violence just a bit too much and Charles looked sheepishly down at his hands. “Why did you fight?”
“You know why. I couldn’t stand by and let him talk about you that way.”
“Good man,” Kimi said with a stern nod. 
“And you, what did you do, dad?”
“What I had to do,” he said with a shrug. “I’m retired, Charles has a career.”
You stretched the seatbelt and leaned forward to hug your dad and kiss his cheek before doing the same to Charles. “Thank you.” Your eyes lingered on Charles as his eyes said everything he couldn’t with your father in the car. 
“He’s not pressing charges but there may be some questions if anyone caught the fight on camera. You might want to give your PR team a heads up.”
It took a moment to realise where you were and why the car had stopped outside the venue where the party was still in full swing. Drunken revellers could be heard behind the velvet curtain hanging over the door and your father handed his keys over to Charles with a shake. “Make sure she gets home safe. I’ll pick it up in the morning, no scratches.”
“Yes, sir,” Charles promised with a nod before getting out.
“You’re trusting him with your Pista?”
“I trust him with you, the car I can replace.”
You surprised him with another hug as your door opened, your voice thick with emotion as you said, “thank you.”
“Do you want to come home?” he asked quietly. “I can make up the sofa bed.”
“No, it’s fine. I don’t think I’ll want to get out of my bed tomorrow.”
“Fair enough. Love you.”
“Love you too.” You stepped out and Charles closed the door, placing his hand on the small of your back and guiding you to your father’s favourite car. “He doesn’t even let me drive this, you know.”
“Maybe that’s because you don’t support Ferrari,” Charles teased as you buckled yourself in.
“I support it now.”
“What changed your mind?”
You dared to look at him and met his green eyes. “You.”
“Awww, she called her little puppy,” Dev taunted as he spotted Charles walking towards him.
Charles chuckled, but it held no humour and his smile was dark. You had never seen that look in his eye and your thighs clenched in response. “At least she will still call me. You just lost the best thing you never deserved.”
“Well you can have the frigid bitch, good luck getting her to put out though. Fucking cocktease.” The snort Dev made was cut off by the fist that crashed into his nose and then the both of them were going to the floor, grappling and twisting until Kimi darted into the fray and grabbed Charles.
“Go, she’s at home,” Kimi ordered as he pushed Charles back the way he came. “I’ve got it from here, kid.”
The video looped back to the start and you watched it twice more before determining you were fucked. It hit you like a train, the pressure slamming into your chest as you realised you were in love with Charles. No one had ever stood up for you like that, or taken a punch for you or risked their career. But he had.
You stayed cocooned in your blankets for most of the morning, watching the video footage from the night before and it became your new favourite binge worthy entertainment. It would probably be classed as insanity if anyone knew you had become addicted to it, but it was only the fact someone knocked at your door that you placed your phone down.
“Charles? I’m getting a little déjà-vu here,” you commented as you opened the door and found him sweating.
“Will you go on a date with me?” he blurted out. “Please.”
Your brows shot up at the outburst and you checked the student halls were empty before pulling him into your room. “Uh, you do realise who my father is, right?”
“I do, thank you for your concern,” he chuckled. “I was actually just with him. I wanted his permission to ask you on a date.”
“Well that explains why it looks like you’ve been running for your life.” You looked at your door expecting to see it kicked in. “Was he chasing you?”
“What? No, I wasn’t running. Fuck,” he groaned as he ran his hands over his jeans to dry his clammy palms. “I was just nervous about asking you out. You still haven’t answered my question.”
“I will.”
“Answer the question or go out with me?”
“I will go out with you,” you clarified with a laugh.
Relieved, he took a seat at the edge of your bed and sighed happily. “I have been waiting years to ask.”
“Seriously?”
He nodded before flopping himself down comfortably and you dropped down beside him. “Your dad scared me,” he admitted as he took your hand in his.
“But not anymore.”
Charles smiled and it was one so similar to the video that was still playing on loop. He seemed to recognise the muffled sound coming from the blanket at the same time you remembered it was there and fished it out. “You’ve seen it.”
“Once or twice,” you lied. “I see why you’re not afraid anymore. That’s one hell of a right hook.”
“Oh no I am definitely still afraid of Kimi,” he corrected as he rolled on his side to face you. “But I am done watching you date assholes when I know exactly how you deserve to be treated. I want to give you the world, if you’ll let me.”
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thirdmagic · 2 months ago
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to me this is what slay the princess is really all about. not about grand concepts of life and death, not about some distant cosmic concepts, it's about a very specific thing about our lives and how we deal with them.
it's about the fear that the things that happened to you shaped you in a way that made you worse and you need to fix and undo them, the fear that if this bad thing didn't happen to you, you would be better, and how, no: there is no judgement to be made on your experiences or how they shaped you. your experience do not worsen or better you, they just change you, and that change is important and good because it makes you more complete and fleshed out as a person.
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you can bring such a huge variety of difference princesses to the shifting mound, parts of her who have experienced a huge range of emotions and events, from tragedy and pain to happiness and love and everything in between, princesses with a huge range of personalities and character, and she sees value in every single one of them. no matter how dark, painful, horrible a chapter it is, no matter what awful things have happened to them, no matter what kind of princess it is or how cruel or horrible she is or what she's done, she can find value in them, because they add to her, and complete her.
she can find beauty and meaning and substance in the vicious razor, appreciate her joyfulness, she sees the vengeful and petty witch as righteous because her bitterness from the betrayal she experiences formed in her an idea of right and wrong, she describes the terrifying nightmare as tender because she sees her inner sadness and sensitivity, she describes the vicious and vengeful wraith as 'driven' because she sees her power of will and determination.
she does not make any moral judgements on either the 'good' or 'bad' princesses, she sees their experiences and the traits and understanding of the world they add to her.
the important thing to her is to have experiences and perspectives that flesh her out and add to her, they let her grow and gain substance and understanding. she has nothing bad to say about any of them, and the only 'bad' thing she has to say isnt a bad thing it all, it's not having much to say at all about a damsel who has little experiences and little to offer her, and it's not a sentiment she ever expresses on her own.
and i mean, it says it right here at the start of the game right, 'there are no wrong decisions, there are only fresh perspectives and new beginnings'. and then this line from the ending where you return to th stranger:
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this applies to TLQ too. tlq is stillness so he doesnt change as the shifting mound does, but he also has parts of himself and his character as represented by the voices, and all of them serve their purpose. all of them have value. they are not bad or good, they are not better or worse, they just are.
and like, to me where this actively applies to real life isn't this that you should seek out negative or bad experiences, or that you should actively suffer to build character or anything so extreme. it's a way to understand the bad things that already did happen and the pain and trauma you did experience, and a way to understand the pain and trauma that sometimes is inevitable as just a part of any life experience, because the most important and valuable thing to a person is to have any kinds of life experiences, positive or negative. and in the case of the negative, you are shaped and changed by it, but you are not worsened, you just become more. it carve texture around your heart.
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ofbreathandflame-archive · 2 months ago
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Sometimes, I think about the absurdity of the UTM situation — but then, sometimes I think of it and it makes Rhys a much more sinister, albeit, more interesting character.
Like - the situation is this, initially:
Feyre is in her cell. She frazzled,dirty, but hasn’t quite had to experience any of the horrors of UTM, save for her bargained first trial. After her initial riff raff with Rhys, the guards are hypnotized to never touch Feyre, and she receives hot meals to her cell everyday. Rhys was also able to clean Feyre up multiple times as well. So far - excluding his other actions up to this point - we can characterize Rhys as opportunistic, cruel, but well-intentioned in these moments. I am not asking for him to be a purity princess, only that I can vaguely understand the motives to his actions, whether good or bad.
But then…
He then *willingly* chooses to take her out said cell, allowing Amarantha to remember Feyre. His only tangible reason for doing this was to…anger Tamlin. He already had explains that Amarantha has a shield that wards against physical attacks, so that explaination makes no sense. The only one that actually sticks is that Rhys is…jealous. There is no tactical explanation as to why Rhys would establish this safe-space for Feyre, only to immediately co-opt it. Think about it, at this point, Amarantha has forgotten Feyre even exists. If she was tangibly written, she could have played against Feyre’s time, allowing each trial to take place once every thirty or a fifty years. But I digress.
Anywho, Rhysand removed Feyre’s clothes, painted her, and gave her a linen scarf as a dress. The hot food be gives becomes inconsequential because the wine makes Feyre wretch up any all of the food she receives. She then has to sleep on the dirty ragged floor naked because those were all of the clothes she was given. And as Rhysand is breaking Feyre down, he also has the antidote. Now, Feyre isn’t surrounded by the quiet of her cell, or looking forward to the anticipation of a hot meal. She is anticipating (and more than not dreading) her eventual drugging SA.
The sinister part of this is that — Rhys becomes the author of all of Feyre’s sorrows, but then he also swoops in and provides solutions to the issues…he caused.
And it’s why the music scene is one of the most unromantic moments in this series if you stop and consider EVERYTHING. Feyre is sitting there, alone and naked. Exhausted after being paraded around by the Wraiths and having to bear info she has no power to stop. Rhys reads her mind, and then sends the music into her cell. But HE IS THE ONE who caused it in the first place. All of it. It’s so scary when you consider that Feyre was a human, with no mental shields. She was a legit open book and the book acknowledges that he read it alll. Like - even in Twilight - Edward could read everyone’s mind BUT Bella. She was a closed book for and that made her interesting to him. It built a sort-of boundary between them, which considering everything, was a good literary choice.
Rhys has all of this access, and knowledge of Feyre that she doesn’t even get the pleasure of telling him (or just letting him experience it). Like that moment where Feyre tells Rhys she was scared, and he retorts back “no you weren’t” is like…quite scary. Idk. It’s just so weirddd. And I’m not asking for these tidbits not to exist. I’m saying that the story never considers any nuance in these issues. Feyre is expressing that she felt these amalgamation of emotions upon seeing Rhys, but he just smiles and tells her how beautiful she thought her was. At one point, Rhys mad feyre so scared she pissed herself (or almost did - I can’t remember) and threw up. She was terrified, violated, and afraid. And Rhys knows this - and he never apologizes. I am not against the idea of Feysand, as many may assume, not inherently. My problem is, the sinister parts do not add nuance. There’s no discussion into Rhysand’s control issue, which is wrapped in a self-sacrificing package. His need to do everything is the exact same as Tamlin’s control issue - they are both very controlling. Rhysand cannot trust his inner-circle. He does nefarious things because he doesn’t trust them to do so even though they’re so supposed to be Prythan’s version of the Avengers. He makes Mor the queen of the CoN…but doesn’t actually trust her to do the job. What I’m saying is - instead of it leveraging Rhysand’s faults into a well rounded character, the book would rather just assume they don’t exist.
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