#but it would NOT post like it just kept disappearing into the void | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

valerie-is-in-the-cupboard · 5 months ago

Text

Out of Darkness - Chapter Six: The Beginning of the End - Alastor x human!fem!reader

Go to the table of contents.

I haven't checked it, so if there are any mistakes (of any kind), I apologise and I'll check everything again later today. Also, I’m unsure if the assistant’s name is actually Papermint—it's a detail I might have picked up somewhere and now find myself stuck with. I wanted to let you know that I’ll be away for about a week and won’t be able to post during that time. There’s a chance I might manage to write and share the NSFW continuation tomorrow if I have time, but I can't make any promises. I hope you enjoy this chapter in the meantime, dearies <3

Words: ~3120

TW: cursing

It’s been a year since Alastor’s sudden disappearance from Hell, his broadcasts failing from making sinners shiver in fear upon hearing them. The silence left everyone wondering where he could be, not a single possible scenario making people feel safe – if he died, who dared to kill him? If he didn’t die, what was he plotting? People were afraid of sharing their theories, every shadow feeling like a little spy, ready to tell Alastor who dares to talk behind his. All people except one…

“It’s been nearly a year since that old-timey prick vanished!” Vox’s voice thundered through Pentagram City, brimming with derision. His broadcasts had become a daily reminder of Alastor’s absence, taunting and mocking the fear he once inspired. “Is he dead? Is he hiding? Who gives a fuck?!” His laughter, a sharp, jagged sound, reverberated through the streets. Vox relished in his rival’s silence, finding a twisted pleasure in the void left behind.

The Overlords, however, were far from pleased with Vox’s indiscretions. Though they rarely voiced their concerns, the underlying fear of Alastor’s potential return kept them in check. They understood that Alastor’s influence had been a stabilizing force, and with him possibly gone for good, they dreaded the chaos that could ensue if their grip on power faltered.

“Darling, would you please close the door?” Rosie asked one of her clients, an annoyed look on her face. “I wish that good-for-nothing demon would just shut up…” she said harshly.

“Are you alright, dear Rosie?” a woman asked, making her sigh.

“Oh, yes, honey… I can’t help but wonder just like the others what happened to dear Alastor…” she faked a little laugh, arranging the shelves in the emporium. She quickly turned to the door, hearing people screaming outside. Everyone rushed to see what was happening, Rosie making her way through the curious people.

“I saw him!” a trembling demon cried out, drawing a wide circle of frightened onlookers. His appearance was a grotesque sight—his flesh was torn, blood oozing from fresh, gaping wounds. His eyes, wild and frantic, darted among the crowd. “Alastor’s alive!” he shrieked, his voice a raw edge of terror. Gasps of shock spread through the crowd, some fleeing in panic. “He’s in the human world! And he’s powerful! He’s going to destroy us all!” His dire warning sent waves of fear through the masses.

Everyone looked in shock.

“How do you know?” someone from the crowd shouted.

“I just returned! I was about to die at the hands of human priests, but I saw him! I swear it was him!”

Rosie looked at him, her eyes wide in shock. Alastor was alive. But if he was so strong, why didn’t he return? She looked at the crowd and spotted one of Vox’s assistants, a sense of worry flashing over her… This was not going to be good.

As expected, later that day, Vox demanded the Overlords to hold a meeting. Without much of a choice, they all gathered, curious of what Vox wanted to say.

“Good evening, fellas!” Vox said a wide grin on his face. Valentino was sitting next to him, a smirk on his face as he already knew what the meeting was going to be about. Behind them stood two assistants, trembling, and holding some pieces of paper. “I bet you’ve all heard the shocking news, right?”

“Yes, Vox… You broadcasted that psycho all over Pentagram City…” Carmilla said, her eye twitching in annoyance. “If this is going to be about Alastor again…”

“No, no… I mean, yes. But this time is important!” Vox declared. The other Overlords looked at Vox with curiosity as he talked… everyone was eager to know what this ‘important’ thing was that Vox wanted to tell them about. But Carmilla seemed to know what the meeting was going to be about already, the look on her face clearly telling that she really didn’t want to be there right now, that she was annoyed and impatient… Carmilla knew that he lived for the attention, but she didn't care all that much about it. If he left her and her business alone, he could say or do what he wanted.

“My assistant here managed to talk to the demon from earlier and he has some… information.” Vox continued, his smile never leaving his face. “Papermint! Go on!”

The little demon came a little closer, his whole body trembling. Valentino shot the demon a menacing look, as Vox became more and more impatient.

“Stop shaking like a scared animal and get on with it,” Valentino muttered with a roll of his eyes.

Carmilla rolled her eyes again, barely paying attention to the assistant's shaking. She had to admit that even though Valentino and Vox were both pompous, obnoxious, and arrogant, at least Valentino was a lot more direct and to the point than his partner. Vox always seemed to waste everyone's time with his grand entrances.

She let out an impatient sigh. "Can we get on with this, please? I have actual business to attend to."

The little demon gulped and tried to gather some courage, his nervous fingers trying to flip over the sheet of paper. He glanced at Vox, who was giving him a cold stare that screamed “I’ll make your life a living hell if you continue this way.” The little demon looked back at the paper, quickly flipping it to the other side. “Yes! Uh… So, I talked to the demon… And apparently, Alastor was in his human form and he didn’t seem weakened at all.”

“See?” Vox said, waiting for a reaction from the others. “You know what this means?”

"No, pray tell." A rather snide voice chimed in. Carmilla did not have the time for Vox and to be frank he irritated her to no end. She leaned forward on the stand, giving Vox a pointed stare. To say she disapproved of this little meeting would be the understatement of the year.

“It means that we can all go back! We can get strong there! Conquer the human world!” Vox said, Valentino, chuckling quietly behind him.

“You’re insane, Vox. Plain and simple insane.” Carmilla scoffed with an eye roll.

Zestial took one look at Vox and chuckled. This was going to be an interesting conversation it seemed. "What makes you think you are going to conquer anything but a grave?!" Zestial shouted at the sinner. "The human world is full of priests and hunters that will kill all of us before we regain our strength.”

“Oh, come on!” Vox shouted. “The prick did it! Why can’t we do it?”

“We don’t even know if it was him!” Rosie said and Vox angrily looked at his assistant, signaling him to continue reading.

“Uhm, the man said… ‘it smelled like death and suffering and he threatened a human he’ll destroy his soul’.” All the Overlords stopped for a moment.

“It does sound like him…” another one admitted.

“I agree with Vox.” Everyone looked towards the cat overlord. “Besides, the human world would mean more souls for us,” Husk said a sly smile on his face.

“See?!” Vox said, exasperation in his voice.

“No. We cannot risk it. The meeting is over.” Carmilla decided and got up, followed by the other overlords.

“Fuck you all! You’re all pussies! Cowards!” Vox shouted at them as he stormed out of the room, followed by Valentino and Papermint. But his other assistant noticed Carmilla and Zestial leaving together and decided to follow them.

“Don’t be so angry, dear friend…” Zestial told Carmilla. “They will never be able to do it.”

Carmilla sighed, looking out the window. “They can’t find out, Zestial… If they know portals can be opened by us-“she started, but quickly stopped, feeling a presence around her. “We’ll talk later…” she said, and the two demons parted ways. The little assistant ran as fast as he could. He had to tell Vox and the thought of a raise filled his mind.

Suddenly, a blinding light engulfed him, and a horrible pain struck through his body, making him scream in agony as darkness embraced him.

The door of (y/n)’s apartment opened forcefully. She entered with a wide smile on her face, Alastor following quickly, his arms full of bags and boxes. He closed the door behind him with his foot, his gaze never leaving the girl.

“Your friends surely brought a lot of gifts.” He said, placing them on the coffee table in the living room. (Y/n) came closer to him, a smirk on her face. “What?” Alastor asked, his smile never leaving.

“You did it!” she said accusingly.

"I have absolutely no idea what you're talking about, my dear," he said innocently, trying to feign ignorance.

“The surprise party?! Oh come on, you can’t lie to me!”

“What? You are accusing me of things I have never even thought about, darling!” he laughed. (Y/n) tried to hug him but stopped, looking up at him for approval. “Go ahead, my dear. I won't bite," he said, his usual smirk still in place. (Y/n) hugged him, a shiver running down his spine. He started getting accustomed to her being touchy with him, but it still made his brain freeze for a moment whenever she would do it.

“Thank you…” she said, her voice soft and full of adoration. She looked up at him. “Aren’t you mad we didn’t spend my 23rd birthday together as planned?”

Alastor chuckled softly, his hands finding their way to her hips as she looked up at him. “Oh, darling, the night is still young.” He assured her.

"It was the best gift, Al." Alastor's smile widened a hint of warmth in his eyes. He relished the genuine happiness in her voice, it was a soothing sound to him.

"Anything for you, my dear," he said softly, gently pulling her closer to him. "Besides... it's not the last gift for tonight."

(Y/n)’s eyes became wider at the statement. “What else is there?” She asked, caressing his cheek with one hand.

"Now, now. Telling you would ruin the surprise, wouldn't it?" he teased, a smirk tugging at the corners of his lips. Alastor leaned in, pulling one of her rings out of his pocket.

“My ring!” She said excitedly. “I’ve been looking for it for one week!”

“I know, darling. I needed it for something.”

She raised a brow. "What for?" Alastor's eyes sparkled with a hint of mystery as he wrapped an arm around her waist, pulling her closer to him.

"I needed it to measure something... But you don’t need to worry, really." he teased, pressing a gentle kiss to her forehead.

"No, no. You have to tell me now!" she smiled at him, excited to find out what he needed it for. Alastor chuckled again, admiring the curiosity sparking in her eyes. He enjoyed the small moments like this, teasing and bantering with her.

"You're not going to rest until you find out, are you?" he asked, a smirk on his face. Alastor sighed dramatically, pretending to be annoyed, but his smile betrayed him. He loved seeing her this excited.

"Fine, I suppose I can tell you." he relented. "But you have to close your eyes first." (Y/n) did as told, not being able to hold back her giggling. "Okay, now stay still and keep those pretty eyes closed, my dear," he said his voice soft and smooth. Alastor walked behind her, his arms wrapping around her waist from the back. "Just a moment, darling," he whispered into her ear, his breath warm against her skin. He reached into his pocket, retrieving an object she couldn't see. The item was small but very valuable to him. He held it gently in his hand, before slowly bringing it up in front of her. "You can open your eyes now," he murmured, his voice filled with anticipation and affection. She opened her eyes, a golden ring in front of her. The ring's band was crafted from polished silver, its surface gleaming with a mirror-like finish that caught the light beautifully. At the centre of the ring was a single, mesmerizing stone—a deep, vibrant red that sparkled like a firework in the dusk. The red gemstone was cut into a perfect oval, its facets catching the light and sending out flashes of crimson and scarlet. It seemed to hold a fiery intensity as if a piece of sunset had been captured and set within the ring.

“Alastor… what is this?” she asked, not sure what to expect.

Alastor's eyes never left her face, gauging her reaction. "It's a symbol. A promise," he said softly, his voice filled with sincerity. "A promise to always be by your side, to protect and cherish you... to love you." (y/n) looked away from the ring and turned to him. She looked down, fidgeting with his vest, her heartbeat increasing dramatically.

"What are you saying, Al?" she asked.

Alastor cupped her face in his hands, tilting her chin up to meet his gaze. His expression was serious, his eyes fixed on hers, holding a mixture of passion and tenderness.

"I'm not saying anything, my dearest," he murmured, his voice soft and velvety. "I'm asking you something.” He took a deep breath, his heart beating faster than he thought possible. "Will you spend eternity with me, darling?"

(Y/n) looked at him, a smile creeping on her face, but slowly faltering. She took his hands in hers. "Al, are you sure? It's only been a year... What if it's not what... you want?"

Alastor's expression softened at her question, his heart melting at her concern for his happiness. He caressed her hands gently, his touch filled with reassurance. "My love, time is just a mere measure," he said, a slight smile playing on his lips. "And I'm certain that there is nothing in the world I want more than spending my eternity with you by my side." (Y/n) smiled at his words, tears in her eyes.

"Then I want this too, Alastor..."

Alastor's smile widened, relief flooding his heart. He pulled her into a tight embrace, his arms wrapping around her like a protective shield. He buried his face in the crook of her neck, breathing in the sweet scent of her hair. "Thank you," he whispered, his voice filled with a mix of happiness and gratitude. "You have no idea what this means to me, darling."

The demon woke up after what seemed like an eternity, his body aching with every movement. He was surrounded by trash, cold engulfing him.

“What the fuck…?” he asked himself, looking around. He scratched his head, but realization quickly hit him. With disgust, he realized he was back in his human form. “Ah, fucking shit…” he whispered. He entered a portal by mistake and returned to the human world.

The demon stood up, trying his best to find balance, a strong smell invading his nose: death and agony. He opened his eyes wide – Alastor was close. A sense of fear engulfed him, but then an idea popped into his mind. If he found Alastor and gathered information, it was just a matter of time until he could return to Hell. And Vox will promote him. A mischievous grin appeared on his face and for a moment he seemed to forget about the pain too.

He followed the smell, hiding in every shadow. He couldn’t risk being seen by a human or worse… by Alastor. By no means he could protect himself in this state.

With slow steps, he entered a building, the smell guiding him to a door. Adrenaline pumped his veins as he knocked on the big wooden door. His feet were burning, ready to run if Alastor opened the door but to his surprise, he didn’t. Instead, (y/n) appeared in the doorframe, the human scent intoxicating the demon.

“Oh, well, hello miss.” He said, looking at her, a sly smile on his face. (Y/n) looked at the demon, disguised as a human. He looked scrawny, with white dirty hair covering his forehead. She gagged at the smell of trash and slammed the door shut in his face. The man started pounding on the door. “Open up you little bitch! I’m gonna-“

The door opened once again, and the man jumped back at the sight. Alastor stood in the doorway, a wide smile on his face as he slowly closed the door behind him, stepping towards the demon.

“Well, well, well… Look what we have here…” The lights started flickering as Alastor’s human form began to disappear. His eyes were glowing red, in the form of radio dials and his body towered over the demon, sharp teeth making him shiver in fear. “Now who exactly do you think you’re calling a ‘bitch’?”

“Al… Alastor… I’m…” the demon started, his voice trembling. “Please don’t kill me!” he begged.

“Now, tell me – Why wouldn’t I?”

“I know something! Something that might interest you!” the demon shouted.

“Hmm… Interesting… And what would that be?” Alastor said, his interest growing for a bit.

“I can tell you like it here… What about that: I tell you how to open portals to this world anytime you want so you can leave and come back… And you let me live!” Alastor came closer to him, thinking about it.

“And how exactly can one do such things?”

“I… I don’t know…” The demon admitted, making Alastor growl angrily. “But I can find out! I’ve heard Carmilla and Zestial talk about it.”

Alastor’s form shrank, his gaze still fixed on the demon. “Agreed. We have a deal,” Alastor said, his tone cold and calculating. “But remember, this must remain confidential. If I discover you’ve leaked any information…” He let the threat hang in the air, his gaze unwavering and menacing.

“I won’t!” the demon assured him. “There’s one more thing… I need you to open a portal for me to go back. I am too weak to do so.”

Alastor extended his hand, green flames burning around it. “Fine…” he said, waiting for a name.

“Zariah.”

“Well done, Zariah. You’ve got yourself a deal.” The two shook their hands and Alastor’s human form returned. “Now, meet me here tomorrow morning and I’ll open that portal for you… if you survive the night, of course…” Alastor finished, returning to the apartment laughing, as Zariah returned to the shadows of the night.

“Al? Are you ok?” (Y/n) ran to him as he entered the door, inspecting him.

“I’m fine, dear.”

“What did he want?”

“Ah, you know how these junkies are…” Alastor said and kissed her forehead. “I think he got the idea…”

He wrapped an arm around her, pulling her closer. “Now, where were we…?”

Tags: @sirens-and-moonflowers, @ratsematary, @xalygatorx, @princessvampxx

Go to: NSFW Part (Ch. 6.5), Chapter Seven

99 notes · View notes

butterfly-lies-chase-them-away · 6 days ago

Text

Bunny - Health Ledger!Joker x Fem!Reader

(Part 4)

Pairing: Joker x Fem!Reader

Joker x Reader with Anxiety

Word Count: 9892

Warnings: Joker, lol

Summary: Poor Y/n let herself go while Joker was locked up, now she's sick and Joker's goons have to look after her

A/N: Took a while to get this one out (shocking) but got it done! a bit on the shorter side of my other fics, but I didn't really have much for this part, it's more of a little fun one

(Laptop was playing up again, so had to post from my phone, will fix later)

Hope you enjoy this part 💚

It had been an agonising week without Joker. Normally, this wouldn't have been a cause for concern, disappearing for stretches of time was just something he did. But this time was different. This time, she knew he was in trouble, and the weight of that knowledge pressed down on her like a vice. Her anxiety, already a constant companion, had become an unbearable storm of worry and dread.

The news outlets seized every opportunity to cover the story of Joker being locked up, using every scrap of information. While the police remained tight-lipped, determined to withhold key details, the public had ways of uncovering the truth.

Grainy cell phone footage of Joker in a shitty holding cell circulated online, and rumours spread like wildfire. Everyone seemed to have an opinion, their voices merging into a deafening roar that only added to Y/n’s unease.

Every time she passed a television or scrolled through her phone, there it was, his face plastered across the screen. Headlines blared about his arrest, speculating on his motives, his crimes, and what the authorities planned to do with him. Each broadcast felt like a punch to the gut, a painful reminder that he was out there, caged, while she was here, powerless to do anything about it.

She was surprised to see that his makeup was still intact. Whether the authorities hadn’t bothered to remove it or had tried and failed, it didn’t matter. His face remained as she remembered it, boldly painted and defiant, other than little empty patches here and there. Oddly enough, it brought her a small sense of comfort, a reminder that even in their custody, he was still him.

She couldn’t eat. Couldn’t sleep. Her mind replayed their last moments together over and over, dissecting every detail, searching for some sign, anything, that he had a plan to get out of this. Because he always had a plan…didn’t he?

Y/n paced her small apartment, her nails chewed down to the quick, her phone clutched tightly in her hand. She considered calling someone, Rocco, maybe, but what would she say? Who could she trust? And even if she found someone to talk to, what could they do?

The uncertainty gnawed at her. Joker’s absence wasn’t just a void in her life, it was a ticking time bomb, and she was terrified of what might happen when it finally exploded.

The days dragged on, blurring together as Y/n confined herself to her room. She couldn’t bring herself to do much of anything. Her appetite was nonexistent, and the thought of eating made her stomach churn. The only thing she consumed was water, and even that was more out of necessity than care.

The once-cozy space she called home felt suffocating, the walls seeming to close in on her. Her bed became her constant companion, the blankets pulled around her like armour against the world outside. She hadn’t bothered to tidy up or even open the curtains. The room was dark, lit only by the faint glow of her phone screen.

Her reflection in the mirror told a story of exhaustion, dark circles under her eyes, her skin pale and dull. She felt as though the weight of her worry for Joker had physically anchored her to the bed.

She didn’t want to see anyone. Avoiding her friends, ignoring texts, and letting her phone calls go unanswered, she kept herself isolated. Leaving her room felt pointless when her mind was consumed by thoughts of him.

Her chest tightened every time the news flickered on in her head, imagining the cold, sterile cell he was probably in. It was a mental loop she couldn’t break out of, and it left her drained.

Y/n’s neglect of herself was becoming painfully obvious, the toll on her body undeniable. Her once-vibrant complexion had turned discoloured and lifeless, dark shadows lingering beneath her hollow eyes. Her cheekbones were more pronounced, the lack of proper nourishment leaving her looking gaunt and fragile.

Her energy levels had plummeted. Even simple tasks like standing up or walking across the room left her feeling lightheaded and weak. Her muscles ached from lying in bed for so long, and her legs felt shaky when she did manage to pull herself up.

The dehydration was catching up with her, despite the water she drank. Her lips were cracked, her skin dry and rough to the touch. Her hair hung limp and dull, reflecting the lifelessness she felt inside.

Her immune system stretched thin from stress and lack of sustenance, left her vulnerable to every chill in the air. She must have developed a slight fever that she didn’t have the strength to care about, brushing off the sweat on her brow as just another inconvenience.

Y/n’s body was screaming for help, yet her mind remained fixated on Joker. It was as if she’d become a shadow of herself, physically and mentally drained, all because the one person she cared about most was out of her reach.

Y/n lay sprawled on her bed, her body heavy with exhaustion. Her arms felt like lead, barely able to reach the half-empty water bottle sitting on her bedside table. Her fingers brushed against it weakly, but even the small effort was too much. She let out a soft, defeated sigh, her dry lips barely parting.

Her gaze, blurred and unfocused, was fixed on the ceiling when the creak of her door made her heart skip. She thought it was just another trick of her mind, her exhaustion had caused her to hallucinate sounds before. But this time, shadows fell across the dim room, and she slowly turned her head.

Her vision was too poor to make out details, the figures were just dark blurs against the soft glow of the hallway light. Panic fluttered in her chest. Was she dreaming? Or had her mind finally cracked? She blinked hard, trying to clear her sight, but the figures remained.

Then one of them stepped closer, and a familiar, gravelly voice filled the room. “Boss sent us,” Rocco said simply, his tone gruff yet somehow grounding.

Y/n’s breath hitched. It wasn’t a hallucination. These were real people, they were in her room. She managed to push herself up on trembling arms, her heart pounding wildly in her chest. How had they gotten in? The door was locked...wasn’t it? How fucking shit was this dorm’s security?

Her bleary eyes darted to the second figure, standing just behind Rocco. She didn’t recognise him, this one was new. He stayed silent, his broad frame looming in the doorway, while Rocco stepped closer.

“Damn, kid,” Rocco muttered, his voice softer now as he looked her over. “You look like hell.”

Y/n didn’t respond, her throat dry and her mind too foggy to form words. All she could do was stare at them, trying to process what was happening.

The realization hit her like a jolt. Joker. Was he okay? Did he send them to check on her? Did this mean… he was still out there? Her hands gripped the sheets beneath her tightly, desperate for answers, but too weak to demand them.

Rocco stepped closer, crouching down so his face was level with hers. His sharp features softened slightly as he took in her dishevelled state. “You’re not taking care of yourself,” he muttered, a mix of irritation and concern in his voice. “Boss wouldn’t like this. He sent us here to make sure you’re still kickin’.”

Y/n blinked slowly, her head swimming with questions, but the mention of Joker made her heart clench. Her lips moved, though no sound came out at first. She swallowed hard, wincing at the dryness in her throat before croaking, “Joker...?”

The second man, the one she didn’t recognise, stepped forward now, his arms crossed. His gaze flicked over her like he was assessing her condition. “He’s fine,” the man said curtly. “But he’s got…other things to handle right now.”

Rocco shot the man a look, clearly annoyed by his lack of tact. “What he means,” Rocco said, his tone more measured, “is that the Boss can’t exactly walk through your front door right now. So, he sent us. He wanted us to check in, make sure you’re okay, and…” He hesitated, glancing back at the other man before sighing. “...and make sure you get back on your feet.”

Y/n felt a rush of emotions, relief that Joker was alive, frustration at her own helplessness, and confusion about why these two were standing in her room like they belonged there. “How…how did you get in?” she whispered, her voice barely audible.

Rocco smirked faintly. “Lock wasn’t much of a challenge,” he said, jerking a thumb at the other man. “Frankie here’s got a knack for getting through doors. Don’t worry, though. We’re not here to cause trouble.”

Frankie, so that was the name of the stranger, gave a curt nod but said nothing. His presence felt imposing, but he didn’t seem hostile.

Y/n tried to sit up straighter, her body protesting with every movement. Her head swam as she forced out another question. “Why…why did he send you?”

Rocco reached over to the bedside table, grabbed her water bottle and handed it to her. “Boss cares about you, kid,” he said, his voice a little softer now. “More than you probably realise. He doesn’t like the idea of you wasting away while he’s out there handling business. Said if you don’t start taking care of yourself, he’ll have to come sort you out himself. And trust me, you don’t want that.”

Y/n took the bottle with shaky hands, her eyes wide as she processed his words. The thought of Joker sending these two to check on her, even while he was dealing with his own problems, made her chest tighten. He cared. In his own chaotic, unpredictable way, he cared.

Rocco stood up, brushing off his knees. “We’re here to help, alright? Whether you like it or not. So, drink up and get moving. Boss wouldn’t want you like this.”

Y/n hesitated, then took a small sip of the water. It was lukewarm and tasted metallic, but it was the first thing she’d managed to drink properly in days. She nodded faintly, her voice still weak but determined. “Okay.”

Rocco’s patience quickly wore thin as he watched Y/n take another feeble sip of water and sink back into the mattress. “Alright, that’s it,” he said firmly, straightening up and rolling his shoulders like he was preparing for a task he didn’t particularly enjoy. “You’re coming with us. Boss’s orders.”

Y/n’s eyes widened, panic flickering in them. “What? I can’t–” she stammered, but before she could finish, Rocco leaned down and grabbed her arm gently but insistently.

“You don’t get a say in this, sweetheart,” he said, his tone leaving no room for argument. “Boss wants you outta this bed, and that’s what’s happening.”

The other man, Frankie, sighed and moved to the other side of the bed, his expression unreadable but his stance ready to assist. “She’s not exactly in any condition to walk on her own,” he muttered.

“I can tell,” Rocco replied sharply. “That’s why we’re here. Now, up you go.” He pulled her up to a sitting position with surprising care, though his grip was unyielding. Y/n groaned, the motion making her head spin and her stomach churn.

“I can’t…” she whispered, her voice breaking. “I can’t even stand.”

“Don’t even worry about it,” Rocco said as if it were the simplest solution in the world. “But you’re not staying here, wasting away. Boss ’ll have my head if we leave you like this.”

Y/n tried to protest, but before she could, Frankie slipped an arm under her knees and another around her back, lifting her effortlessly out of the bed. She gasped in surprise, her body trembling from the sudden movement.

“Don’t drop me!” she cried weakly, her hands clutching at his shirt.

Frankie scoffed. “Relax.”

Rocco opened the door, stepping out first to make sure the coast was clear. “Move it, Frankie. Let’s get her to the van.”

Frankie carried her out of the room, his movements steady but brisk. The cool air in the hallway hit her like a slap, and her already fragile state made it hard to keep her eyes open. Her head lolled against Frankie’s shoulder as they made their way outside.

The van was parked at the curb, its engine idling softly. Rocco opened the back door, gesturing for Frankie to set her down. “Easy now,” he said, his tone surprisingly soft.

Frankie carefully eased Y/n into the van’s backseat, her body slumping against the upholstery. Rocco climbed in beside her, positioning her so she wouldn’t slide around during the ride. He reached over to buckle her seatbelt, muttering, “Don’t even think about trying to wiggle out of this. Boss ’ll hear about it.”

Y/n didn’t have the energy to argue. Her head rested against the window, her body aching and weak, but somewhere deep down, a flicker of curiosity sparked through the haze of exhaustion. Where was she being taken?

The van rumbled to a stop in a dimly lit alleyway, the oppressive gloom of the Narrows seeping in through the windows. Y/n barely stirred, her frail body sagging against the seatbelt. Rocco turned to glance at her, his expression somewhere between irritation and concern.

“We’re here,” he muttered, unbuckling his seatbelt. Frankie was already out of the van, opening the back door and reaching in to unbuckle Y/n.

“C’mon, girl,” Frankie said, his tone gruff but not unkind. “Boss wouldn’t want you sitting out here all night.”

Y/n blinked slowly, her vision still a blur. She didn’t have the strength to protest as Frankie once again lifted her, cradling her like she weighed nothing. The cold night air nipped at her skin as they exited the van.

The building in front of them was dilapidated, its bricks cracked and stained, with faint graffiti scrawled across the lower walls. The windows glowed faintly from inside, casting eerie shadows onto the narrow street.

“An apartment?” Y/n mumbled weakly, her voice barely audible.

“Temporary safe house,” Rocco said curtly, leading the way to the door. “Boss’s orders.”

Frankie adjusted his hold on her as they climbed a narrow, creaking staircase that felt like it might give way at any moment. Y/n groaned softly, her head lolling against Frankie’s chest. The exhaustion in her body made the journey feel endless, each step rattling through her fragile frame.

On the third floor, Rocco stopped in front of a battered door with peeling paint. He fished out a key, unlocking it with a click before pushing it open. The apartment inside was sparse but clean enough, furnished with the basics, a couch, a small table, a kitchenette, and a bed tucked into the corner of the single room.

Frankie carried Y/n inside, laying her carefully on the couch. She let out a faint sigh of relief as her body sank into the mattress, her muscles aching from the short journey. Rocco lingered near the door, crossing his arms as he surveyed the room.

“Not exactly five-star,” Rocco said, his voice tinged with sarcasm. “But it’ll do.”

“Boss said to keep her here and make sure she eats something,” Frankie said, stepping back and stretching his arms. “She looks like she’s about to keel over.”

“Yeah, well, she’s been like that for days, hasn’t she?” Rocco grumbled. “I’ll have a look. Can’t let her starve.”

As Y/n lay on the couch, barely able to keep her eyes open, a thought began to gnaw at the back of her mind. She hadn’t fully processed it before, but now, with Rocco and Frankie’s casual conversation, it became clear.

They were talking about him, Joker, like he was still calling the shots, like he was still in control, even though he was locked up and under 24/7 security. Her heart skipped a beat, a mixture of confusion and curiosity flooding her veins.

The implications of it all settled in her chest, heavy and unsettling. How were they in contact with him? Was he somehow orchestrating everything from behind bars? Was he pulling the strings while locked away, unable to move?

She tried to sit up, her body protesting the movement as if the world around her was spinning. The dizziness from the exertion made her head throb. She let out a shaky breath, trying to focus as she reached for the water bottle beside her. Her fingers trembled as she unscrewed the cap, the cold liquid soothing her parched throat. But the question remained.

How is he still in control? she thought, her mind racing. She hadn’t heard anything about Joker’s escape, nor did it make sense that he could have any influence from inside a high-security facility. So how? How were his goons able to move so freely?

She glanced over at Frankie and Rocco. They didn’t seem concerned, almost like it was business as usual. Rocco was leaning against the wall, checking his phone, and Frankie was off to the side, inspecting the small kitchenette. Neither of them gave any indication that they were afraid or worried about Joker's imprisonment.

Y/n felt a pit in her stomach. Was he that powerful, even locked up? She didn’t know what to believe anymore. The whole situation felt surreal like being stuck in a bad dream.

“He’s always had a plan,” she whispered to herself, her voice barely audible. "He always has a way."

The weight of the situation settled deeper into her chest as she realized that Joker was always three steps ahead. Even now, even when everything seemed to be falling apart, Joker had found a way to keep his reach, his control, intact.

But how much longer could he stay in control from inside a cell? How much longer before something broke? Before she broke?

She closed her eyes, trying to push the fear away, but it lingered. It always did when it came to him.

Rocco reappeared from the kitchen, holding a paper bag that crinkled loudly as he walked toward her. He tossed it onto the table with a heavy thud, then turned back to the cabinets, muttering something to Frankie under his breath. Frankie came over to the couch and crouched in front of Y/n, his gruff face softening just a bit.

“You need to eat, girl. You’re lookin’ worse than a dead man,” he said, pulling out a plastic-wrapped sandwich and a juice box from the bag.

Y/n blinked at the items as if they were foreign. It had been days since she’d eaten anything substantial, and the idea of food felt distant, almost abstract. Still, Frankie didn’t give her much choice.

“Come on,” he said, his tone firm but not unkind. He unwrapped the sandwich for her and held it out. “A few bites, at least. You’re no good to anyone like this.”

Her stomach churned at the thought, but she nodded weakly. With trembling hands, she took the sandwich from him and managed a small bite. The dry bread felt foreign against her tongue, and the first swallow was like pushing a rock down her throat. But then the second bite came easier, and the third after that.

Rocco turned back around, leaning against the counter with a mug of coffee in his hand. “Gotta admit, didn’t expect you to be this far gone,” he said bluntly.

Frankie shot him a warning glare, but Rocco shrugged. “What? She looks like she’s been through hell.”

“She’s been through enough,” Frankie snapped, his voice lower this time. “Just shut up and let her eat.”

Y/n barely registered the exchange, too focused on the sandwich and the juice box that Frankie had handed her. The sweetness of the juice was a shock to her system, waking her up a little more as it soothed her dry throat.

“Better?” Frankie asked after a moment.

Y/n nodded faintly. “Thanks,” she whispered, her voice hoarse.

“Good,” Rocco said, moving closer to the couch. He placed a bottle of water on the table beside her.

“You’ll need your strength. Don’t know what’s comin’ next, but Boss wouldn’t be happy seeing you like this.” Hearing that sent a pang through her chest. Joker.

Even when he wasn’t there, his shadow loomed large, dictating their actions. And here he was, using that power for her. Joker’s influence reached her even now, in her lowest state, orchestrating everything from behind the scenes. As unsettling as it was, a small part of her, a part she didn’t fully understand, felt comforted by it.

Y/n lay curled up on the worn couch, her body trembling despite the cheap oil heater buzzing weakly beside her. The warmth it offered was pitiful, barely taking the edge off the icy chill that had settled into her bones. Her skin felt clammy, her breaths uneven, and her forehead was hot to the touch. She was clearly feverish, and even in her half-conscious state, she could feel how badly her body was struggling to fight off the fatigue.

Frankie paced back and forth, running a hand through his greying hair. “She’s shivering like a damn leaf,” he muttered, glancing nervously at Rocco. “What the hell are we supposed to do? I don’t know nothin’ about takin’ care of a sick person!”

Rocco sat slumped in a chair at the dining table, his arms crossed. “What do I look like, a nurse?” he snapped, his frustration barely contained.

He glanced over at Y/n, her frail form looking smaller than ever under the thin blanket draped over her. He let out a long sigh and stood. “Alright, let’s think. Fever, right? You’re supposed to–uh–what? Cool her down? Or warm her up?”

Frankie rolled his eyes. “Both? Neither? Hell if I know! You think I went to med school?” He rubbed at his face, muttering under his breath, “Boss didn’t say nothin’ about this kind of situation.”

Rocco grumbled and approached the couch, peering down at Y/n like she was some fragile, alien creature.

“She’s shakin’ like crazy,” he said, pulling the blanket tighter around her. “What if we just...I dunno...get more blankets? Or turn the heater up?”

He leaned down and gave the old oil heater a hard smack, but it didn’t do much besides rattle noisily. “Piece of shit,” he muttered.

“More blankets?” Frankie echoed, his voice dripping with sarcasm. “Yeah, great plan, genius. You wanna bury her in a mountain of old fabric and hope for the best? Real top-tier care there, Dr. Rocco.”

He shook his head and started rummaging through the cabinets, clearly searching for something that might help. “Maybe there’s medicine or some kinda first aid kit around here,” he said, opening drawers with loud thuds.

Rocco scowled but didn’t argue. Instead, he grabbed a glass, filled it with water from the sink, and brought it back to the couch. He crouched down beside Y/n, nudging her shoulder gently.

“Hey, girl,” he said awkwardly, his gruffness giving way to something softer. “You gotta drink some water. Can’t let you keel over on us, alright?”

Y/n groaned faintly, her eyes fluttering open just enough to see Rocco’s concerned face hovering above her. “Can’t...move,” she mumbled, her voice weak and barely audible.

Frankie returned, holding up a bottle of aspirin triumphantly. “Found somethin’! Says it’s for fevers,” he declared.

Then he frowned, looking at the label. “Uh...how much do you give someone? One pill? Two?”

“Well, what does the box say?” Rocco grunted.

“I don’t know, the instructions have been worn off,” Frankie said, squinting at the box.

“Just give her one to start. We don’t need to knock her out cold.” He turned back to Y/n and gently pressed the glass to her lips. “Come on, drink,” he coaxed. “It’s just water.”

With effort, Y/n managed a small sip, though most of the water dribbled down her chin. Frankie handed over the aspirin, and Rocco awkwardly placed it in her mouth, tipping the glass again to help her swallow.

When she finally did, Frankie let out a relieved sigh. “Okay, good. That’s somethin’, at least.”

But the two men were clearly out of their depth, and it showed. They stood by the couch like sentries, unsure of their next move.

Frankie scratched his head, mumbling, “We need someone who actually knows what the hell they’re doin’. This ain’t our thing, man.”

Rocco nodded, his usual bravado replaced with a rare flicker of worry. “Yeah, well, until then, we keep her alive. Boss would kill us if somethin’ happened to her.”

He glanced at Y/n, who had already slipped back into a restless sleep. Her shivering continued, even with their clumsy attempts to help. “We gotta figure this out,” he muttered.

Y/n stirred on the couch, her face scrunched up. Frankie, who had been pacing near the window, noticed immediately and groaned.

“Now what?” he asked, throwing his hands in the air.

Y/n grimaced again, her lips twisting in discomfort. “That aspirin…” she murmured, her voice hoarse. “Tasted...weird. Like...really weird.” She made a faint gagging noise and stuck out her tongue, clearly unhappy with whatever lingering aftertaste it left behind.

Frankie narrowed his eyes and turned to Rocco, who was leaning against the wall. “What the hell does she mean, ‘tasted weird’? You gave her somethin’ bad?”

Rocco straightened up, looking offended. “I didn’t make the damn pills, Frankie! I just gave her what you found!”

Frankie stomped over to the kitchen counter where the small box of aspirin sat. Snatching it up, he squinted at the faded label.

“Oh, for crying out loud,” he muttered. “This thing’s...expired! Look at this! Says it went bad two years ago!” He turned the box toward Rocco, jabbing at the tiny print with his finger.

Rocco groaned, running a hand down his face. “You’ve gotta be kiddin’ me,” he muttered. “Who keeps expired meds in their place? Like, throw it out already!”

“Apparently these guys don’t care about restocking the essentials,” Frankie shot back. He threw the box onto the counter with a loud thud. “And now we probably poisoned her on top of everything else!”

“Relax, Frankie,” Rocco said, though he didn’t sound entirely convinced himself. “What’s the worst expired aspirin can do? Lose some of its kick? She ain’t foamin’ at the mouth or anything, is she?”

Y/n, still curled on the couch, managed a weak glare at the two men. “You guys…are terrible at this,” she mumbled.

Frankie sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. “Yeah, yeah, we get it. We suck at playin’ nursemaids. But cut us some slack, huh? This ain’t exactly what we signed up for when joining Joker’s gang.”

Rocco shook his head, muttering under his breath. “Great. Boss is gonna love hearin’ we gave his girl bad pills. Just perfect.”

Y/n, too tired to engage further, closed her eyes and tried to ignore the bitter taste still lingering in her mouth.

Frankie and Rocco exchanged an exasperated look before Frankie finally grumbled, “Alright, that’s it. No more meds until we double-check this crap. I ain’t takin’ any more chances.”

“Gee, why didn’t I think of that,” Rocco muttered, though the jab lacked its usual bite.

Frankie and Rocco stood awkwardly around Y/n, who had drifted back into an uneasy rest on the couch.

Frankie pulled out his phone, scrolling rapidly. “Alright, lemme just Google this fever crap. Can’t be that hard, right?”

Rocco leaned over his shoulder, squinting at the screen. “What’s it say?”

“Uh…” Frankie squinted, reading aloud. “‘Keep them hydrated, plenty of water.’” He gestured at the half-empty glass on the coffee table. “Nailed that one already.”

“Barely,” Rocco muttered, rolling his eyes.

Frankie ignored him and kept reading. “‘Medications to reduce fever.’” He immediately grimaced and shoved his phone in his pocket. “Yeah, no. We ain’t doin’ that shit again.”

“Definitely not,” Rocco agreed, glaring briefly at the expired aspirin box still sitting on the counter.

Frankie pulled his phone back out, tapping on a new link. “Okay, here’s a blog post...‘hot soups help.’ See? We’re getting somewhere!”

Rocco folded his arms, unimpressed. “Hot soup, huh? What’re we supposed to do, whip that up in this dump?”

Frankie snapped his fingers. “Hold up! I saw some canned soup in the cupboard earlier. Gimme a second.”

He shuffled into the kitchen, rummaging through a cabinet, and emerged triumphantly holding a dusty can of chicken noodle soup. “Jackpot!”

Rocco pinched the bridge of his nose, sighing. “Frankie, that thing looks older than the aspirin. You’re not feeding her that.”

“It’s soup! It’s basically immortal,” Frankie argued, waving the can around.

“No,” Rocco said firmly. “You’re not risking Boss’s girl on canned science experiments. Get your ass to the store and buy her some fresh stuff.”

Frankie groaned. “Man, come on! The store’s, like, five blocks away!”

“And?” Rocco crossed his arms, his glare cutting. “Go. And don’t come back with anything cheap.”

Muttering under his breath, Frankie grabbed his coat and stormed toward the door. “This is ridiculous. First a nurse, now a delivery guy. What’s next, a fuckin’ florist?”

Rocco just waved him off, turning back to check on Y/n as Frankie disappeared into the hallway.

Rocco sat down heavily on the chair opposite Y/n, watching her shiver even under the blanket draped over her.

He sighed, running a hand through his hair. “Don’t worry, he’ll be back soon,” he muttered, more to himself than to her.

Y/n stirred slightly, cracking her eyes open. She looked at him, her expression groggy and confused.

“Where’d he go?” she croaked, her voice barely above a whisper.

Rocco leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “Frankie’s gone to grab you some real food. Something to help with the fever.”

Y/n gave a weak nod, closing her eyes again. “Thanks…” The room fell silent except for the faint hum of the oil heater struggling to warm the space.

Rocco glanced at it, frowning. “Piece of junk,” he muttered, standing up to adjust the settings. When it didn’t do much, he huffed in frustration.

The door creaked open quietly, and Frankie slipped inside, juggling several heavy grocery bags. Y/n was finally asleep on the couch, bundled up in blankets. Rocco, who had been sitting nearby and keeping watch, stood up and stalked over, his brows furrowed at the sight of the bulging bags.

“What the hell is all this shit?” Rocco hissed, gesturing toward the bags as he took a couple to lighten the load.

Frankie scowled, kicking the door shut behind him. “I don’t know, man. I went to grab some canned soup like you said, but some old lady saw me standing there and decided to get involved.”

Rocco raised a brow. “What do you mean, ‘got involved’?”

Frankie set the bags down on the counter with a grunt. “She started giving me a lecture about how canned soup isn’t good enough for someone sick, then walked me around the store grabbing vegetables and spices and crap. Kept saying, ‘Make her a proper soup.’ I don’t even know what the hell that means!”

Rocco stared at him, then at the bags now spilling over with carrots, celery, onions, and random herbs. He pinched the bridge of his nose and let out a long sigh. “You mean to tell me, instead of just heating up a can, we now gotta make soup from scratch?”

Frankie shrugged helplessly. “Apparently. Look, she was scary, okay? You try saying no to someone’s grandma when she’s lecturing you in the middle of the store.”

Rocco jaw hung open, looking at Frankie. “You have a gun..you’re 6 foot fucking something…and some little old lady scared you into making soup..”

“Hey man, I ain’t never gon’ mess with an old lady…besides, she had a heart of gold,” Frankie pouted, looking absolutely ridiculous.

Rocco muttered a string of curses under his breath as he started unpacking the bags. “Great. Just great. Now we’re chefs.”

“Hey, you’re the one who said to get her the good stuff,” Frankie shot back, grabbing a knife and a cutting board. “Guess this is what the good stuff looks like.”

Rocco glared at the pile of ingredients like it had personally offended him. “Fine. Let’s get this over with. But if you screw this up, you’re eating it.”

Together, they fumbled their way through prepping the vegetables, with a hastily Googled recipe on Frankie’s phone that neither of them could agree on.

“This one says dice the carrots, but what the hell is a dice? Like cubes?” Frankie squinted at the screen.

“Cubes? What are we, making toys? Just chop the damn things,” Rocco shot back, already wielding a knife like it was a weapon. He hacked at an onion, the uneven pieces scattering across the cutting board.

Frankie grabbed a stalk of celery, holding it whole above the pot. “Do you think we can just throw these in as is? I mean, they’ll, like…dissolve, right?”

Rocco stared at him in horror and swatted the celery out of his hands. “What the hell are you doing? You can’t just chuck that in like a log! Cut it into pieces!”

“Okay, okay, relax,” Frankie grumbled, fumbling for the knife and hacking at the celery with no regard for uniformity.

Rocco groaned, snatching the knife from him. “That’s not cutting, that’s mangling. You’re lucky she’s too sick to care what this looks like.”

It took twice as long as it should have, with constant interruptions of “Is this small enough?” and “Are you sure that goes in the pot?”

Eventually, they managed to get all the vegetables chopped into vaguely even pieces. By the time they added everything to the pot, they were both sweating and grumbling.

Frankie stirred the mixture triumphantly. “Alright, that wasn’t so bad.”

Rocco glanced over his shoulder at the recipe still open on the phone. His face fell. “You idiot. Did you even read the part where it says this has to simmer for two hours?”

Frankie froze, spoon in hand. “You’re kidding.”

“Nope. Two hours. Minimum.” Rocco threw his hands in the air. “We’re gonna be here all night.”

Frankie groaned, slumping against the counter. “How does anyone have the patience for this? I should’ve just stuck with the canned stuff.”

“Yeah, but now we’re committed,” Rocco grumbled, crossing his arms.

He eyed the bubbling pot, already dreading the wait. Despite their frustrations, neither of them said it out loud, but they both felt a little satisfaction in knowing they’d gone the extra mile. After all, they weren’t doing this for themselves.

The soup had finally been left to simmer, and the two men sat at the small table in the corner of the apartment, exhausted from their makeshift cooking adventure. Rocco had his arms crossed, leaning back in the chair, while Frankie tapped his fingers against the table impatiently.

“How long’s it been?” Frankie asked.

“Fifteen minutes.”

“You’re kidding me.”

“Nope.”

Frankie groaned and leaned forward, resting his head on the table. “We should’ve just bought one of those instant soups. Heat it, serve it, done. Why did I listen to some random old lady?”

Rocco shot him a look. “Because you don’t have a spine, Frankie.”

The soft sound of mumbling caught their attention, and they both turned toward the couch. Y/n was stirring, her eyes fluttering open briefly before closing again. She shifted slightly, curling up tighter under the blanket.

“Think she’s gonna wake up?” Frankie whispered.

“Not if we’re lucky,” Rocco replied, though his gaze lingered on her pale face, still marked with exhaustion.

A faint bubbling noise came from the kitchen, and Frankie bolted up. “Crap, is it boiling over?”

They rushed to the pot like a couple of amateur chefs, Frankie grabbing the spoon to stir while Rocco adjusted the heat.

“It’s fine, it’s fine,” Rocco muttered, glaring at the pot as if daring it to betray them.

Frankie stirred a few more times before stepping back, looking genuinely relieved. “Okay, I think we’ve got it under control. Now what?”

“Now we wait. Again,” Rocco said, rubbing his face. He glanced toward the couch. “She’s still out, so at least we don’t have to explain why the kitchen smells like…well…that.”

“Yeah yeah,” Frankie muttered, leaning against the counter.

The hours dragged on as the soup slowly came together. They took turns checking the pot and whispering arguments about whether it needed more salt or if the vegetables were soft enough. It wasn’t exactly gourmet cooking, but by the time the two hours were up, the apartment smelled surprisingly good.

Frankie grabbed a spoon and tasted it, his eyebrows lifting in surprise. “Hey, it’s…not bad. I mean, it’s edible.”

“Edible isn’t exactly a ringing endorsement,” Rocco muttered, but he grabbed a spoon and took a taste as well.

He frowned, then nodded reluctantly. “Alright, it’s decent. Let’s see if she can actually eat it.”

They carefully ladled the soup into a bowl, Rocco holding it steady while Frankie grabbed a spoon. As they approached Y/n, still curled up on the couch, Frankie nudged her shoulder gently.

“Hey, Sleeping Beauty. Wake up, we’ve got something for you.”

Y/n stirred, her tired eyes blinking open. She looked up at them groggily, her voice barely above a whisper. “What…is it?”

“Homemade soup,” Rocco said, setting the bowl on the small table next to her. “Don’t ask how we made it, just eat it.”

Y/n stared at the bowl suspiciously, then looked up at them. “You made this?”

“Yeah, and it took forever, so you better appreciate it,” Frankie grumbled, but there was a hint of pride in his voice.

With their help, she sat up slowly and took the bowl into her hands. The warmth of the soup felt comforting, and as she took a small sip, her eyes widened slightly. “It’s…good.”

Rocco and Frankie exchanged a look, both pretending to shrug it off, but the relief on their faces was unmistakable.

“Damn right, it is,” Frankie said, pulling a chair over to sit nearby. “Now eat up. We’re not going through that again anytime soon.”

Despite her exhaustion, Y/n managed a faint smile as she took another sip. For the first time in what felt like forever, she didn’t feel quite so terrible.

As Y/n slowly worked her way through the bowl of soup, the two men hovered nearby, pretending to busy themselves but clearly watching her every move. Frankie leaned against the counter, tossing a dishrag between his hands, while Rocco pretended to scroll through his phone.

“You don’t have to babysit me,” Y/n muttered, her voice still raspy but carrying a faint note of amusement.

Frankie snorted. “Babysitting implies we actually know what we’re doing. This is more like damage control.”

Rocco smirked but didn’t look up. “Just eat. You’ve looked like a ghost for days, and it’s freaking me out.”

Y/n rolled her eyes but continued eating. The soup wasn’t just warm, it felt like it was slowly pulling her back from the brink. Despite their clumsy efforts, the two had managed to create something that didn’t just fill her stomach but soothed her.

When she finished, she set the bowl down on the table and leaned back against the couch cushions. “Thanks,” she said softly, her eyes fluttering closed.

“Don’t mention it,” Frankie said, quickly grabbing the bowl and heading to the kitchen.

Rocco sat down in the chair across from her, his arms resting on his knees. He studied her for a moment before speaking. “You’ve gotta start taking better care of yourself, you know that, right?”

Y/n cracked an eye open and gave him a weak glare. “Kinda hard when you feel like shit all the time.”

“Yeah, well, feeling like shit isn’t gonna stop the boss from tearing into us if something happens to you,” Rocco muttered, rubbing the back of his neck.

The mention of Joker made her heart skip a beat, but she didn’t respond. Instead, she closed her eyes again, letting the warmth of the soup settle over her like a blanket.

Frankie returned from the kitchen, drying his hands on a towel. “Alright, since you’re fed, it’s bedtime. Doctor Google says rest is key or whatever.”

“Doctor Google?” Y/n mumbled, a faint smile tugging at her lips.

“Yeah, and don’t laugh. It’s the only medical degree we’ve got around here,” Frankie shot back, tossing the towel onto the counter.

Rocco stood up, stretching. “He’s right, though. You need to sleep. We’ll be here, so don’t worry about anything, alright?”

Y/n opened her eyes briefly, glancing between the two. Despite their gruff attitudes and questionable bedside manners, she could tell they were genuinely trying to help.

“Alright,” she murmured, her voice barely above a whisper.

Frankie grabbed an extra blanket from a nearby chair and draped it over her as she curled up on the couch. Rocco turned the heater up a notch, muttering something about the drafty apartment.

As they settled into their makeshift positions, Frankie lounging in the armchair and Rocco leaning against the wall, Y/n let herself drift off, the sound of their quiet banter lulling her to sleep.

For the first time in days, she didn’t feel entirely alone.

Rocco had just settled back into the creaky chair, giving Frankie a side-eye as he scrolled through his phone. The apartment felt oddly quiet for once, with Y/n asleep on the couch and the sound of the heater humming in the background.

But the silence was shattered when Rocco's phone rang, cutting through the stillness. He stared at the screen, confused by the number.

"Who the hell..." he muttered, before swiping the screen to answer. "Yeah?"

There was a brief moment of silence, then a familiar voice came through the phone, rough and slightly distorted, as if coming from a distance. "Rocco."

Rocco froze, eyes widening. His grip tightened around the phone. "Boss? Is that you?"

A low grunt came from the other end, the voice now unmistakable. “No, it’s Santa. Give the phone to her.”

Without wasting another second, he pushed himself out of the chair, walking over to Y/n, who was lying on the couch, her breathing slow and steady in deep sleep. He hesitated for a moment, looking at her peaceful face before shaking her gently.

“Hey, wake up. Phone’s for you,” Rocco said, his voice low.

Y/n groaned softly, stirring under the blanket, her eyelids fluttering open but still heavy with sleep.

“Mmhmm?” she mumbled, barely registering what he said, her voice thick with drowsiness.

“Take the phone,” Rocco said, pressing the phone into her hand with a small, apologetic smile.

Y/n’s eyes, still foggy with sleep, took a moment to process his words. But when she heard the familiar voice come through the phone, her heart skipped a beat.

“Hey, Bunny.”

Her eyes shot wide open at the sound of his voice, disbelief and relief flooding through her all at once. "J!" she gasped, sitting up quickly despite the remnants of sleep dragging at her.

“That’s right, Bunny.” Joker’s voice came through low, almost muffled. “Now, listen. I don’t have much time, so don’t say anything that’ll get you in trouble. No names, no details. Just keep it simple.”

“Okay...” Y/n whispered, almost in disbelief that she was hearing him. Her pulse raced in her chest.

“How you holding up? They uh..treating you okay?” Joker’s voice was rough, but there was an unmistakable thread of concern woven in, something that made her heart swell.

Y/n paused for a moment, her thoughts racing. “Yes, they’re keeping me good...I had food, water, and sleep,” she said, trying to keep her voice steady, not wanting to worry him any more than he already might be.

“They feed you?” Joker repeated, his disbelief clear.

“Mhmm.” Y/n nodded even though she knew he couldn’t see her.

"And you lived?" Joker’s voice became incredulous, as if he couldn’t believe what he was hearing.

“It was really good, actually! I swear!" Y/n chuckled softly, her mood lightening just hearing his voice, even if it was through a phone call. "I don't know what the hell they did, but it was, like...homemade soup or something.”

There was a pause on the other end. “Homemade soup?” Joker’s voice was tinged with amusement. “Jesus Christ, Bunny, what the hell’s going on over there?”

Y/n laughed again, feeling a little lighter as the conversation continued. She couldn’t believe how badly she’d missed him, how much she needed to hear his voice. Even with all the danger and chaos swirling around them, this small moment made everything feel somewhat normal again.

“What have you been doing, Bunny, hmm?” Joker’s voice dropped an accusatory tone, his words sharp yet tinged with concern. “Cause you ain’t been taking care of yourself.”

Y/n winced, guilt bubbling in her chest. “I know…I just haven’t been feeling great,” she muttered, her words barely escaping her lips.

“That’s no excuse to not look after yourself,” Joker snapped, though his voice softened quickly after, as if trying to hide the edge of frustration.

Y/n’s shoulders slumped, the weight of his words sinking in. “I understand…” She paused, looking down at the blanket wrapped around her, picking at the fibers.

“How is everything there?” she asked, wanting to divert the conversation away from her.

“How you’d expect a police station to be like,” Joker replied with a nonchalant chuckle, as if it was just another ordinary day. “No worries, Doll, I’m a frequent flyer here. They’ll ask me questions until they get tired, then send me right back off to Arkham.”

Y/n’s stomach twisted at the mention of Arkham. “What?” Her voice cracked, fear creeping into her chest.

“Don’t worry about it, Bunny,” Joker reassured, his tone light despite the underlying danger of his words. “I’ll be out before that happens.” He let out a chuckle, like it was all just a game, but it did little to ease the knot in Y/n’s stomach.

Her mind raced, trying to grasp the weight of what he was saying, but it didn’t add up. How could he sound so calm about all of this?

“What else is going on?” she asked, forcing her voice to stay steady.

“Well, they keep asking about your car,” Joker said, the amusement slipping into his voice again.

“They just won’t believe me when I tell them the car’s not being used for some heist or whatever, but my dear Bunny’s.” He lingered on the words, a playful hint beneath his serious tone. “They think I’m some kind of Joker.”

Y/n chuckled nervously, though it didn’t fully reach her eyes. “Well, from their point of view, I get it,” she said, rubbing her temple in a half-hearted attempt to ease the headache that had been gnawing at her for days.

In the background of the call, Y/n could hear a voice growling from a distance. "Okay, that's enough phone time for you!"

"Ooh, looks like the coppers want me," Joker's voice rang through the phone, still light-hearted despite the gravity of the situation. "Take care of yourself, Bunny. Get Frankie to go buy you an ice cream, you deserve it."

Y/n’s heart sank a little, knowing the call was ending. “Okay, bye J…” she murmured softly, a twinge of sadness in her voice as she reluctantly let go of the connection.

“Mwah!” Joker’s voice perked up, the sound of a kiss sent through the phone before the line clicked dead.

Y/n stared at the phone in her hand for a moment, her chest heavy. She handed it back to Rocco without saying another word, her gaze wandering over to Frankie, who had been quietly watching her.

“Joker said you have to go get me an ice cream,” she said, almost sheepishly.

Frankie blinked, eyes wide in disbelief. “Come on!” he groaned, throwing his hands up in the air in exasperation. “I’m ain’t your personal ice cream runner, you know that?”

Y/n let out a soft chuckle despite herself, the weight of the situation lightening just a little bit. “He said I deserve it,” she insisted, giving him a small, playful look.

Rocco snorted in the background, clearly trying to hide his own amusement, but Frankie just shook his head, clearly not amused by the sudden ice cream errand he was apparently now obligated to run.

“Fine,” Frankie muttered, clearly out of options, “But only ‘cause boss said so.” He turned towards the door, grabbing his jacket. "Don't expect me to get you anything fancy."

Frankie stormed out of the apartment with a grumble, muttering about how he was too old for this kind of nonsense. Y/n couldn't help but smile a little, even though the sadness still lingered in the pit of her stomach.

Rocco leaned against the counter, arms crossed as he observed her. "You good?" he asked, his tone soft but concerned.

Y/n nodded slowly, though she wasn’t sure how convincing it was. "I will be," she said, her voice quieter than she intended.

"Just…it’s hard, you know? Hearing his voice and then having to hang up." She paused, looking at the door where Frankie had just left. "I just feel…I don’t know. Like I’m just waiting for something to happen."

Rocco gave a nod, his expression unreadable. "I get it. But he’s not gonna let them keep him for long. You know how the Boss is." He seemed to try lighten the mood.

Y/n sighed, leaning back against the couch, wrapping her arms around herself. "I hope you're right," she murmured.

She closed her eyes, trying to push the thoughts of Joker being locked up, of everything that might go wrong, out of her mind.

After a few moments of silence, Rocco sighed and walked over to the window. "You need to rest. Frankie will be back soon, and when he gets back, you can get some real sleep. We’ve got you covered here."

Y/n didn’t argue. The exhaustion was creeping back in, and the warmth of the couch was almost too inviting. "Yeah," she whispered, sinking further into the cushions, "maybe just for a little while."

Wasn’t long till Frankie finally returned, looking both annoyed and tired, two containers of ice cream in his hands.

"Alright, alright," he muttered, placing the tubs on the coffee table with a huff. "Ice cream, just like the Boss ordered."

Y/n blinked, her exhaustion making her movements sluggish as she looked at the ice cream. "Thanks," she said quietly, trying to muster up a smile, though still tired. "I didn’t think you’d actually do it. But…why do you have two?"

“Like hell I’m gonna do all this work without reward,” Frankie said, lounging back while opening his tub of ice cream.

"Alright, you two. Eat your ice cream, then you get back to sleep." Rocco said, pointing at Y/n.

Y/n finally allowed herself a tiny laugh, something genuine this time, as she took a spoonful of the ice cream. It wasn’t much, but for now, it was enough.

It had been only a few hours since Y/n had finished the ice cream and drifted into sleep. The apartment was eerily quiet, the kind of silence that settles in before something disruptive happens. Suddenly, the front door burst open with a thunderous crash, slamming against the wall so hard that it rattled the cheap picture frames hanging nearby.

Y/n jolted awake, heart racing as she instinctively sat up on the couch. Disoriented and still half-asleep, she blinked at the doorway, trying to process what was happening.

“What the hell?” she muttered, her voice hoarse from exhaustion and lingering sickness.

Standing in the doorway, framed by the dim hallway light, was the one and only Joker. His grin stretched wide, his green hair slightly disheveled, and his eyes sparkling with chaotic energy. He threw his arms out, as if putting on a grand show for an audience of one.

“Ta-da!” he exclaimed, his voice dripping with that unnerving mix of charm and madness.

Y/n blinked again, certain she was either dreaming or hallucinating. “J?” she whispered, her voice barely audible over the sound of her own heartbeat.

Joker’s grin widened as he sauntered into the apartment. “In…the…flesh, Bunny,” he said, spreading his arms wide before giving a mock bow. “Miss me?”

Rocco and Frankie stumbled out of the kitchen, both looking like they’d seen a ghost. “Boss?!” Rocco exclaimed, his voice cracking. “How the hell did you–”

“Details, details!” Joker interrupted, waving a gloved hand dismissively. “Do I look like a man who lets a little thing like prison keep him down?”

He spun on his heel to face Y/n again, his expression softening just a fraction. “But you, Bunny…you’ve been naughty.”

Y/n stared at him, still trying to wrap her head around his sudden appearance. “How are you here…?” she started, but her words trailed off as he strode over to her, crouching down so they were at eye level.

“Now, now,” Joker said, tilting his head as he studied her sickly face. “We’ll get to that later. First, we need to talk about you. You look like you’ve been run over by a bus, Bunny. Frankie and Rocco been slacking on their uh…babysitting duties?” He shot the two men a glare over his shoulder, making them both stiffen.

“Hey, we’ve been taking care of her!” Frankie protested, gesturing toward the empty ice cream container on the coffee table. “She ate, she rested, we even made soup!”

“Soup.” Joker repeated, raising an eyebrow. “My Bunny eating your soup. Yeah, I heard about that little endeavour.” He turned back to Y/n, his gloved hand brushing a strand of hair from her face. “But still, you’ve got some explaining to do.”

Y/n felt her throat tighten as she looked into his intense gaze. “J, I didn’t think I’d see you again so soon,” she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper.

Joker leaned in closer, his grin turning devilish. “Bunny, I told you before. I’m gonna come back for you.”

Y/n didn’t have time to process Joker’s words before he stood up, his energy buzzing like static in the room. He clapped his hands together, making both Rocco and Frankie flinch.

“Alright, boys, let’s have a chat,” he said, his tone shifting from playful to commanding. “What’s the state of this little hideout? Security tight? Supplies stocked? Or have you two been playing house while my Bunny’s been rotting away?”

Frankie looked at Rocco, who reluctantly spoke up. “We’ve done everything you asked, boss. She’s been fed, rested, and kept safe. No one’s sniffing around. We’re good.”

“Safe,” Joker repeated, his tone skeptical as he paced the room. “And yet my Bunny looks like she’s one sneeze away from passing out again. Safe doesn’t mean a damn thing if she’s not healthy.” He whipped around to face them, his eyes blazing. “So, what’s the plan, hmm? How are you two fixing this?”

“We’ve been doing what we can!” Frankie interjected. “Soup, meds, ice cream, what else are we supposed to do?”

Joker laughed, the sound sharp and grating. “Oh, Frankie, Frankie, Frankie…You don’t fix her with ice cream and soup. You fix her by making sure she never gets like this in the first place!”

He pointed at Y/n, who was watching the exchange in stunned silence. “You let her get sick, and that’s the problem.”

Y/n finally found her voice. “J, stop,” she said, her tone firm despite the exhaustion weighing her down. “They’ve been taking care of me. It’s not their fault.”

Joker’s gaze snapped back to her, his expression softening slightly. “Defending the little guys, huh, Bunny?” He crouched down again, his gloved hand resting lightly on her knee. “But you’ve gotta take care of yourself too. Can’t have my Bunny falling apart on me.”

“I’m trying,” Y/n said quietly, her cheeks flushing under his intense gaze.

Joker straightened up, his manic grin returning. “Good. Because I didn’t bust out of that hellhole just to find you looking like an inch away from death.”

He turned to Rocco and Frankie. “You two, make yourselves useful. Get this place cleaned up, get some decent food stocked, and find a real doctor. None of this DIY crap.”

“Doctor?” Frankie repeated, wide-eyed. “How are we supposed to–”

Joker silenced him with a glare. “Figure it out. Or do I need to babysit you, too?”

The two men exchanged a nervous glance before scurrying off, muttering plans under their breath.

Joker turned back to Y/n, his expression unreadable. “Now, Bunny, let’s get you feeling better. And then…” His grin widened, full of dangerous promises. “We’ve got work to do.”

The apartment settled into an odd rhythm. Rocco was scrubbing dishes in the kitchen, muttering complaints about how Frankie always left things half-cleaned. Frankie lounged on the couch, flipping through channels, just waiting to jump up if Joker barked an order. Y/n, wrapped in a blanket, sat on a chair by the window, her fever finally subsiding.

Joker was at the table, sketching out something on a crumpled napkin, his gloved fingers moving with quick precision as he muttered half-formed plans to himself.

It felt oddly normal, like a strange little family of sorts. The heater hummed faintly in the corner, its warmth mixing with the faint scent of leftover soup lingering in the air. Every now and then, Joker would glance up at Y/n, his gaze softening before snapping back to his frantic scribbling.

But outside, across the street, perched on the rooftop of a rundown building, someone was watching. The figure was cloaked in shadows, blending seamlessly with the dark sky. Through binoculars, the scene inside the apartment unfolded in perfect clarity.

The faint glow of the heater, the flickering light from the TV, and the exaggerated gestures of Joker as he spoke animatedly to himself, all of it was observed in meticulous silence.

The man adjusted his grip, the faint outline of a gloved hand catching a stray glint of moonlight. A gust of wind ruffled the long edges of their cape, but they remained unmoving, a silent sentinel above the chaos below.

Their focus lingered on Y/n, her eyes closed as she slept on the run down couch. Then it shifted to Joker, who leaned back in his chair, throwing a mocking laugh toward Frankie.

A voice crackled softly in his earpiece, almost inaudible against the city’s distant hum. “Are you going to move in, sir?”

The man’s jaw tightened. No response.

His gaze returned to Joker, whose grin widened as he shoved his napkin sketch across the table for Rocco to examine. The man’s grip on the binoculars tightened, his shadowed silhouette growing even stiller, waiting for the right moment to strike.

A/N: Yep, very much on the shorter side, but got through it, lol.

I enjoyed writing this one, it was a little fun on to write for me, just Y/n getting treated by Joker's incompetent goons

Hopefully it will pick up in the next chapter (considering how I ended this one 👀)

Thank you for reading 💚

#fanfic #joker #joker fanfiction #heath joker #dc joker #health ledger joker x reader #jack and joker #the joker #ledger joker x reader #batman #the dark knight #the dark knight trilogy #joker x reader

35 notes · View notes

ghastigiggles · 1 year ago

Text

danse macabre

so uh. uhm. hi. i kept forgetting to post this and i feel really bad about it. i'm so sorry tadc nation here's some food for you

npc oc because i didnt feel comfortable writing anyone as a ler - not yet, anyway. but pomni needed to get wrecked so bad. she's so cute. i get cuteness aggression every time she's on screen

usual disclaimer; sfw tickling fic, very soft and fluffy, even a little goofy and silly.

"Given that our last adventure took an exciting turn, I thought doing a rerun would be a better idea today!"

A rippling groan passed through the veteran players that Caine seemed to entirely ignore, turning his attention to Pomni with an exaggerated movement.

"Something a little more calm, I'd say! Should help bring you down from any thoughts of the Void from the other day!"

"Ahh… I don't –"

"You'll love it," He interrupted, swooping back into the air with an extravagant gesture; "It's a fan favourite! Everyone knows it, everyone loves it, it's… 'Where in the World is Sir Wigglesburg?'!"

Pomni, of course, didn't miss the way everyone else in the room tensed up – though she didn't catch the way Gangle actually perked instead, immediately shooting sideways glances at everyone else before poorly mirroring their tension.

"... You're kiddin'," Jax muttered, his eyes narrowing in annoyance. Caine simply continued as though he didn't hear the rabbit while Bubble floated nearby with an empty look in her eyes.

"Sir Wigglesburg is one of our most esteemed citizens –"

"Not an actual player," Ragatha helpfully cut in with a glance to Pomni, trying to give her context.

" – with a terrible habit of wandering off! His dear wife has, once again, asked us – rather, you – to lend a helping hand and bring him home safe! The first to lead Sir Wigglesburg back to the stage shall win a prize! (To be determined, prize may or may not meet or exceed expectations.) Good luck!"

And, with no further context or instruction, their ringmaster and his companion entirely disappeared. There was a brief silence before Zooble grunted, already walking away.

"... Right. I'm going back to my room, then."

"Aww, somebody too chicken to help the poor guy?"

Jax sneered in their direction, and they shot him a searing glare; "Well, if you want a repeat of last time, be my guest. I don't."

"I will also take my leave," Kinger muttered in a hurried fashion, looking askance; "The last time we did this, it was before… Mngh…"

Ragatha offered him a sympathetic smile, nodding as the other two softened just slightly.

"It's alright, Kinger. We understand."

"Thank you… If you do take on the quest, give Sir my best."

With that, both Zooble and Kinger headed towards the living quarters, leaving Pomni to finally pipe up again, looking between Ragatha and Jax.

"... So, um… W-what's so upsetting about the rerun, anyway? Is it, um, bad…?"

"Oh – no, not – not per se," The ragdoll replied quickly, tapping her chin; "I mean, Caine wasn't lying… This is one of the calmer adventures."

"Yeah. You should do it, newbie."

Both sets of eyes snapped to Jax, who simply grinned passively. Ragatha squinted.

"... And I don't suppose you'd be coming along?"

"I will, actually. Could be funny. What about you, Rags?"

Though she grimaced, Ragatha sighed in resignation, turning a little to give Pomni a small smile.

"Well, I'm not gonna let her go it alone… Again."

That much, at least, gave Pomni heart, and she almost smiled back – until she realized one of their party wasn't accounted for, and her brow furrowed.

"Uh… Where's Gangle?"

The other two also seemed to only just notice Gangle's absence, and the three of them glanced around briefly before their search was cut short by a distant shriek from the player in question.

"That sounded like her…!"

"Is she getting hurt?! W-what if someone else abstracted?!" Pomni shot them a panicked glance; "Sh-should we –"

"Let's go investigate before anything else," Jax interrupted calmly, barely keeping the amusement from his face as he gestured for Pomni to take the lead. When Ragatha shot him a glare, he simply shrugged, following after her with the ragdoll shortly behind.

They had little more than a vague direction, down a corridor and two left turns that seemed to dim the further along they went; Gangle made no further sounds, giving them little in the way of direction, and eventually Pomni sighed haplessly, squinting into the darkness.

"... It's no use… Should – should we go find Caine again…?"

She was met with silence, and turned around – only to find Ragatha and Jax were nowhere to be seen, and her stomach dropped with dread.

"... Guys…?"

"Ooh? Who is this…? A face I've yet to see and greet?"

At a new voice, Pomni yelped, whipping around – and coming face-to-face with what appeared to be some kind of massive, cartoonish caterpillar. His body appeared to be covered in green fur, disappearing into the darkness past his neck – or so Pomni assumed at first glance, anyway. His face and what could only be described as underbelly were covered in white fur that parted around his features, such as a long purple nose and big black eyes – one of which sported a golden monocle. And, of course, his hands had the same cartoon glove sort of thing that Kinger had going on, though this time with black noodle arms seemingly attached.

In her shock, she entirely lost her voice, merely stammering wordlessly – and earning a chuckle from the caterpillar looming over her.

"Such a small thing, you are! 'Tis a pleasure, indeed!"

Smiling, he extended one of his hands for a shake, a gesture that finally managed to pull Pomni from her stupor.

"I am Sir Wigglesburg! And you, my gentile jester, would be…?"

"A-ahhh…" Though hesitant, she extended her own hand, despite it being barely half the size of his own, "P-Pomni – woah –!"

The moment their palms yet, Wigglesburg pulled her closer, twirling her around so suddenly that her eyes spun in alternating directions – and as she was steadied again, pulled along by his sudden movements, she was abruptly made aware of his overwhelming amount of hands, with a second dominant one taking her free hand to hold her steady while two more settled on her back and hip, respectively.

"Pomni, Pomni! A wondrously adorable and charming name! Please, indulge me with a dance – 'tis a formal greeting between my people!"

"I – I'm actually – ah!"

The hand on her hip pinched her side unexpectedly, making her jerk in an attempt to escape – yet Wigglesburg easily moved with her reflexive maneuver like it was a step in her dance.

"I'm actually – ehh! – l-looking for s – hey! – some – sohome –"

The hand squeezed again, and again, and again; and every time, she tried to sidestep or wiggle away – and every time, it just encouraged their "dance", with Wigglesburg's gentle but firm grip keeping her upright despite the giggles bubbling in her chest and the involuntary smile that had been pulling at her lips.

"My dear Pomni," Wigglesburg crooned as though she wasn't struggling to articulate a sentence; "You are a wonderful dancer!"

" – Ghhh, thank you…? But I – ah!! – would you plehease –"

She squeaked again as she was suddenly pulled into a dip, very nearly panicking before she realized Wigglesburg was still supporting her gently. His wide smile was kind and sweet, but undercut by the mischief in his eyes as he looked down at her.

"... That said, you are giggling quite a lot! I didn't think dancing with a wyrm would be that much fun for you!"

"I-It's not the dancing – GyaAH –"

"Is it not?"

Pomni couldn't manage a reply, stuck in a fit of uncontrollable giggles caused by the fingers wiggling at both sides, forcing her to squirm back and forth with no true escape from the unexpected and overwhelming sensation. Wigglesburg hummed, tilting his head with an adoring expression.

"I say, I was under the impression that it was the jester who caused nobles to laugh, not the other way around! Yet, here you are, practically beside yourself…"

For a mercy, he did release her hands, and she immediately brought her arms in – not that they did much, proportionately, to protect her.

"Aheheh, I can't – I cahahan't –"

"Oh, my poor dear, does it tickle? Are we feeling a little sensitive?"

She hiccuped through her laughter at that, shaking her head and ducking down; it felt like the teasing sent a shot through her nerves, which only made it worse when he started scratching experimentally at her ribs, prompting a few snorts to escape her as well.

"Ngh – nahahaa, not th - thehehere…!"

"What? Here? Or here – oh, dear me."

His hands shot to Pomni's underarms for just a few seconds, but it was enough to prompt a shriek from her, wriggling and kicking fruitlessly with even more vigour than before.

"NnnoOHOHO – gh – $%^@# – I cahAAHAAN'T –!"

"Yes, I can see that! 'Twould seem that 'tis an especially sensitive spot."

"Plhehe – PLEHEEHEEHEASE!"

She threw back her head with a loud cackle as Wigglesburg doubled down, every stroke of his fingers sending shocks down her arms and through her body – but she only had to endure it a moment longer before he finally laid off, lightly massaging her sides with his thumbs as she gasped for breath – an act that was more instinctual than actually necessary, given that breathing wasn't really a thing anymore – with a goofy, natural smile still stuck on her face.

"I do hope you can forgive my zeal in tormenting you," Wigglesburg offered after a moment, smiling apologetically; "I cannot help myself around the players."

"I – it's… Haah…" With a final breath, Pomni shook out the residual giggles, looking back up at Wigglesburg; "It's alright…"

"Oh, I figured! You never once asked me to stop, after all."

She stiffened at that, her eyes widening as she searched her memory – because, surely not… And yet, he was right.

She had no idea if the digital avatar could blush, but with how hot her face felt upon that realization, she really, really hoped it couldn't.

"But enough of that – you were searching for someone, yes?"

"Uh! Um. Y-yeah. You, actually, but also – Gangle, if you've seen her…"

"Oh! My dear Gangle has been here all along!"

Pomni blinked dumbly, and Wigglesburg chuckled, curling in on himself and cradling her close as his spine arched up to where she could see clearly – and, sure enough, Gangle was splayed out in the wyrm's green fur, seeming a little sleepy and out of it… Yet, content, even as she looked up and waved at Pomni.

"But… Her scream…"

"'Twas a scream of joy and laughter," Wigglesburg assured her; "Gangle is one of my favorite dancing partners – and I, hers! I admit, I went overboard this time, though… It has been too long since the last time."

"Oh."

A lot of things made sense, now. The way everyone had seemed tense and awkward when Wigglesburg's name came up; Gangle's quiet disappearance in the wake of the adventure's start. The little comments everyone was making towards each other…

"Pomni! Are you alright?!"

Ragatha's voice pulled Pomni from her thoughts, and she looked down to see the ragdoll standing below, looking up with faint relief… And heavy amusement. Shortly behind her stood Jax, smug as ever – yet, notably, keeping a good generous distance between himself and the wyrm.

"Uh. Yeah," Pomni replied; "I found Gangle? And… And Sir Wigglesburg."

"We know. We heard you," Jax chuckled, easily side-stepping to avoid a tiny kick from Ragatha. For her part, the doll smiled.

"That's great! Let's head back to the stage and wrap up this adventure, then!"

Sir Wigglesburg, however, pouted a little, looking down at her.

"Oh, are you sure I can't convince you to share just one dance with me…?"

"Ahh… Maybe next time?"

Ragatha offered him a nervous smile, and Wigglesburg sighed dramatically – but he didn't object, simply setting Pomni on his back near Gangle before he began to crawl along on the path back to the stage. Distantly, Jax grumbled about not being offered a ride as he and Ragatha followed on foot.

In the softness of his fur, Pomni felt a tempting urge to "nod off", partially encouraged by the dance she'd just been through – but Gangle's voice, just barely loud enough to be heard – kept her in the waking world.

"... I'm glad you like his game. I've been the only one for awhile… Knowing someone else likes it makes me feel less weird."

And, with a small nod in response, Pomni hid her smile in the wyrm's fur.

Maybe not every part of the digital circus was terrible or terrifying.

#tadc #the amazing digital circus #tatc #tadc tickles #the amazing digital circus tickles #lee!pomni #lee!gangle #i'm not tagging every character this time you can't make me!!!!!#if anyone wants me to draw sir wigglesburg and his wife (lady wigglesbury. if u even care.) lmk i kind of really love them tbh #they were literally meant to be a throwaway like. gloink queen esque standin but honestly i vibe so hard with them...#anyway here u go. eat up. tastey food #my fic

230 notes · View notes

lethalchiralium · 7 months ago

Text

spin off of this post.

simon “ghost” riley/female reader, death stranding au

It’s not unusual for Ghost to find dead people out in the open. It happens every once in a while, most bodies are just taken to incinerators in fear of a void out. But this one must be fresh, it’s still against a rock under an alcove - the BTs have been groaning and invisibly moving towards it. If he didn’t grab the corpse first, Lord knows he’d end up a BT too.

He took strides towards it, the wails of the undead didn’t phase him as he walked by - their shrieks becoming a distant sound as they floated away from his vision. Sometimes, he felt like the only person on Earth who could scare away the monsters. His boots were quiet against the mud, he kept his steps as light as he could. If this body has turned necro, he’s fucked.

He glanced towards the BTs, watching the handprints of tar lead away from his position before he turned his head back to the corpse, only to find it standing and looking directly at him. He stopped in his tracks, his heart rate lurching as he observed the fear in your eyes.

“You’re not a Homo Demen, are you?”

Thunder cracked overhead, you flinched in your glittering silver porter suit. Ghost shook his head, the timefall hadn’t stopped - if this was the world back then, he would’ve looked up at the sky to feel the rain on his skin. Now, it would rot him from the outside in, just like the fucking lunatics that are a part of the terrorist group.

“I haven’t lost my mind enough to join those wankers.”

The fear in your eyes marginally disappeared as you squinted a little, glancing around, noting that the BTs had gone. “What are you doing out here?”

Ghost deadpanned underneath his chiralium laced mask. “Enjoying the weather.”

“I’m serious.”

“So am I.”

That’s when he noticed the way you were standing, one gloved hand on the boulder, one foot being held a little off the ground. Climbing accident? He glanced around, not seeing a ladder or rope in the vicinity.

“What happened to your foot?”

You glanced down before looking back up at him again, Ghost could see the defensiveness in your one-legged stance.

“Rolled my ankle.”

He grunted in response, rolling his eyes. Sure, rolled your ankle “escaping” BTs, totally not accidentally rolling down this hill into BT territory. He rolled his wrist towards himself, opening his cuff link menu. There’s a delivery up the hill to the Weather Station, he could leave you there. He doesn’t have much interest for a living, breathing, and yapping package. He has Johnny back at Port Knot City to do that.

“Could you take me to the Timefall Farm?”

He looked up from his hologram menu, eyes squinting at you. “Weather Station’s closer.”

You sighed, reaching up and tugging your hood farther down to shield more of your head and face. “It’s too close to the Demens.”

“Everywhere’s too close to the Demens.” He looked back down at his cargo list, noting that he had to go by the Weather Station to complete his delivery. Not to mention, he just came from the farm, he’s not key on doubling back when he’s been doing so well with his time. “It’s Weather Station or bust, kid.”

There was a soft murmur from you, he barely glanced at you again. There should be a path through the rocks and all the way back to the-

“Okay.”

Ghost flicked his wrist, his cuff link turning off before looking back at you. And without a word, he took out a folded up bag, tossing it towards you. You instantly recognized what it was.

“I’m not getting in a body bag.”

“Then I guess you’re stuck with the BTs.”

Your look of embarrassment could be seen from a mile away - you were a porter, dammit, you didn’t need to be carried. But your probably broken ankle said otherwise.

“God dammit.”

#not gonna lie i like this concept #not sure where it’s gonna go #simon riley #simon ghost riley #call of duty #simon riley x reader #lethalchiralium #simon ghost riley x reader #lethal chiralium #death stranding #higgs monaghan #simon riley call of duty

53 notes · View notes

visinox · 2 months ago

Text

I hope you all are ready for some minecraft art spam :) Forgot to post what I was putting on bluesky! (you should follow me by the way hehe)

I redesigned the main three! Felt like they needed a second pass so here we are. Under the cut are the lore details for them, so if you're interested hope you enjoy! If not, see you in a bit :)

Herobrine is a unique kind of builder, one that was born in what is essentially creative mode. He originated from the void, and remained there for a long, long time. Only kept company by the one other who inhabited it, though she didn't do much to soothe his loneliness.

He eventually made it out of the void, but he was rejected by creatures on the surface. In a howl of despair and an emotional out pour of energy, it was him who caused a lot of chaos in the world. From the zombie infection, to the pillager's existence, to the creation of the two bosses and a lot of other mobs.

Afterwards he fled and disappeared. Time passed and he became legend, known as Herobrine, or the prince of monsters. Presently, most are unsure if he was an actual person or was just a created myth.

Steve was taken into and raised in a village. It was at a time before builders were widely accepted, they had a poor reputation around that time, so he had to hide features of his appearance such as ears and hair to blend in.

He passed for a long time, but eventually he had died in front of the other villagers. Which was no problem, as he could just respawn, but other villagers couldn't do that- So if he were to return to the village after they had seen him die, he would be outed. So he left the village, to believe he had died.

Alex was born in the nether and taken in by a piglin tribe. The piglins didn't mind her species as much since they didn't really know the reputation the builders had, and if they did it wasn't really that important. They feared NOTHING.

She was raised specifically by a piglin brute, the chief of the tribe. She never left her tribe until Steve came around, she probably wouldn't have otherwise.

#my art #minecraft #minecraft art #minecraft steve #minecraft alex #herobrine

25 notes · View notes

sagesturns · 2 months ago

Text

The Cut That Always Bleeds.

Warning: None! Just Angst!

I laid in bed. It’s been weeks? Months? I don't know how long since me and Chris broke up. The world outside felt gray and heavy, just like the weight pressing on my chest. It had been weeks since Chris and I had broken up, yet the ache of his absence still lingered, a constant reminder of what I had lost.

I remember his last words, as he looked at me like I was somebody who he didn’t recognize. The same words "You don’t get me anymore,” he had said, frustration in his voice. “You’re not the same person I fell in love with.” It was a sting in my chest, like a knife being twisted which left me bleeding and breathless. Every moment I was breathing it played in my head like a broken record I couldn’t shut off till I fell asleep. Even when I did, I was haunted by the memories of us, the dreams consuming me and leaving me to wake up with tears streaming down my face.

We had been inseparable for so long, navigating the ups and downs of our teenage years together. I still remembered how his laughter could fill a room, how his smile could brighten even the darkest days. We shared dreams, secrets, and promises that felt like they would last forever. But somewhere along the way, things changed. The love that once felt strong had become fragile, slow disappearing till it wasn’t there.

I picked up my phone, staring at the blank screen, willing it to light up with a message from him. I knew it was foolish, but a part of me still hoped he would reach out, that he would realize how much I missed him. But each passing minute brought only silence, and my heart sank a little deeper.

Memories flooded back—our late-night talks, the way he would brush his fingers through my hair as we lay on the grass under a blanket of stars. Or remembering the pressure of his kiss on my forehead. Or when he would brush his thumb over my knuckles to comfort me when something happened. His hugs, the ones that once were always filled with warmth and love, kept me safe from all the hurt in the world. Which now left me cold and hurt even thinking about it. Those moments felt like a lifetime ago, and I couldn’t help but wonder how we had gotten here. How had we let the love that once felt so strong slip away like sand through our fingers?

The argument was loud, remembering as the tears spilled down my cheeks and I begged him to stay, to not leave, the words a constant loop in my head. “I, I need you like the air I breathe, I need you more than me, I need you more than anything. Please don’t leave me.”

Now, the silence between us was deafening. I thought about the promises we made to always fight for each other, to never let the world come between us. Yet here we were, two strangers drifting further apart, trapped in our own hurt.

Tears spilled over as I hugged my knees to my chest. The pain felt like a living thing, gnawing at me from the inside. I could almost hear Chris’s laughter in my mind, see the way his eyes lit up when he talked about his dreams. And I couldn’t shake the feeling that I had let him down, that I had somehow failed him.

I sank down to the floor, hugging myself tightly as sobs shook my body. The hurt felt unbearable, and I didn’t know how to make it stop. I wanted to scream, to cry out into the empty void of my room, but I was too exhausted to do anything but weep.

I realized I had never felt so alone. I was left with the ghost of what we had, a love that had once felt eternal now reduced to haunting memories. At that moment, I understood that sometimes love isn’t enough to hold two people together, no matter how hard you try. With each breath, I felt the weight of my heartbreak settle deeper, and I knew I would carry this pain with me, a scar that would never fully heal. And as the darkness of night began to creep in, I realized that some cuts always bleed, leaving a mark that could never be erased.

a/n: This is my first post! I actually have no idea how Tumblr really works. Lowk not my proudest work but whatever. I hope you guys like this lil story! I love the song 'The Cut That Always Bleeds' by Conan Gray so I wanted to make a story. Anyways I tried my best!

#chris sturniolo #chris sturniolo fanfic #sturniolo #sturniolo triplets #angst #first post #conan gray #Spotify #fanfic

23 notes · View notes

thecarnivorousmuffinmeta · 1 year ago

Note

You mentioned in another post about Dumbledore's "protection" being seriously lacking (for people like James & Lily). Can you expand on this?

I suppose it's time.

What the Fidelius Charm Does

The Fidelius Charm involves three parties: a location to be protected, a secret keeper, and the caster of the charm. Upon completion, a location is perfectly hidden. It can't be accessed physically even if someone knows it must be there (e.g. Grimmauld Place disappearing between numbers 12 and 14 with no explanation of the missing building in between), cannot be plotted by wizards, and can't be accessed magically either.

To enter the location and even be able to access it properly, a person needs access to 'the secret' which is granted by only the secret keeper. Through this person, they then have access to the location on a full-time basis (it is not a one-time ticket and seemingly cannot be revoked).

Those who are not granted 'the secret' cannot enter the location no matter what they might try. This makes it, on the surface, a highly dependable security measure.

Alright, What's the Problem

There's a few problems right away with the spell.

The first is the known one from canon, it relies on a 'secret keeper'. A party has to be trusted to grant access to the location. If this is a third party, they have to be able to reliably white list those seeking entrance and cannot afford to make a mistake. If this party is compromised or is nefarious then the charm is rendered completely void with no warning to those being protected or the caster.

The second is that, upon the secret keeper's death, there's no next in line but the secret instead defaults to being kept by everyone on the whitelist. In canon we see this with the death of Dumbledore (secret keeper for Grimmauld Place). Upon his death, everyone now has the ability to give access to Grimmauld Place. This includes Severus Snape who is a presumed Death Eater, meaning that Grimmauld Place is now completely compromised. This is very very bad.

The third is part of the above, once you're on the whitelist it seems you can't be removed. They discover Severus Snape is a Death Eater, Dumbledore dies and everyone's now secret keeper, they can't seem to revoke both secret keeper status as well as his presence on the whitelist from him. The best they can do is set up a hilariously terrible jinx to protect the building if he tries to enter (it is uh very ineffective).

The fourth is that your status on the whitelist never expires. Once you're in, you're in forever. You don't get just a one-time pass or a session with an expiration date where you have to reapply for access. Now, perhaps this is convenient as it means you don't have to seek out the secret keeper again (and in that sense secures the secret keeper's identity) however it means those who might have flipped sides later have access forever or else people now always have access to the location even in unwanted hours/if they were there for just a meeting.

These are just the weaknesses baked into the spell by nature, it gets worse when we consider how it's implemented for Godric's Hollow.

Alright, What's Wrong with the Godric's Hollow Implementation

This is where things start to look nefarious.

The above, I wouldn't expect wizards to necessarily be thinking about. While at this point asymmetric key encryption is taking off in the Muggle world and has been for decades, it's a recent Muggle invention and not one that even ordinary Muggles pay attention to let alone wizards (who would then have to consider how to implement this in a magical form and what use cases it'd have for them). What the wizards employ, while bad, is not out of line with how ciphers and things worked for much of Muggle history. You have a key you have to protect, if you lose it you're fucked, no way around that. Which means that passing the key to those who need it, making sure you can trust them, is the largest weakness of the system. The Fidelius is very strong in that it seems you have to have the key to break it, which is the case with all encryption, and the issue then is trying to keep the key as safe as possible (which is always a hard task).

Basically, looking at that, I don't think they could have done much better than the fidelius in terms of security in and of itself (there's other options they could have taken but we'll get into that below).

But then we look at Godric's Hollow.

The issue is who do they make secret keeper. They suspect Lupin of being a spy, someone has been leaking information to Voldemort including the Potter's location (which is why they had to go under Fidelius in the first place). At this point, they're already fucked.

They try to get around this by announcing the secret keeper is Sirius but in secret making it Peter, so that everyone will go after Sirius instead. The trouble is that James only has three friends. One he thinks is a spy, that leaves two.

Even had Peter not been a Death Eater, Peter knew who the secret keeper was. If you know who the secret keeper is, that's effectively knowing the secret itself. All Voldemort has to do is find the first person among the Order who will either talk, or slowly pick his way through Potter's associates and friends until he gets the secret or else kills the one who turned out to be the secret keeper.

Not to mention that all Voldemort has to do is imperio those who have access to the secret and send them to murder the Potters in his stead.

Sirius, Peter, and Remus would be the first on Voldemort's list, and everyone knew that.

It would have been a matter of weeks, had Voldemort actively pursued this, before Voldemort gained access to the house.

And here's the thing. We see that Dumbledore can be both the caster and the secret keeper from Grimmauld Place. Dumbledore, reportedly, is the only person Voldemort is scared of and is the strongest wizard by far in the Order. Why didn't Dumbledore offer to be secret keeper? Why didn't he insist on it? Why didn't James and Lily ask him to do it, especially when they suspect Remus of being a spy?

While James might have picked Peter out of a show of loyalty, Dumbledore could have insisted for their protection. Instead, it seems like Dumbledore purposefully let them take this option and never gave an explanation as to why.

Maybe, Godric's Hollow Was a House of Cards

We also have James. James, canonically, snuck out of Godric's Hollow while it was under protection to hang out with Sirius and the gang. Dumbledore confiscated his invisibility cloak for this reason, something Lily notes in her letter to Sirius.

The thing is, while Dumbledore takes the cloak, that's the only thing he does to stop James from sneaking out. Perhaps it's not his place to do more, but on the other hand, this does nothing to stop James from sneaking out and James (having access to the secret) could easily be imperioed and sent back to murder his family.

Instead, he makes it look as if he's doing something, but is taking an item he greatly wanted as it is.

With that prophecy, where Harry or Neville are the only ones capable of defeating Voldemort, it's starting to look like Dumbledore wants James and Lily to be found. He wants to set up just enough protection that, at a glance, it looks very secure and as if they're putting their all into hiding them: except that he doesn't want it to hold.

Godric's Hollow is a trap intended for Tom, to lure him into a confrontation with the child, when he's the only one who knows the full prophecy and the last few lines that Tom doesn't (as it is, I'm not sure even we the readers know exactly what the prophecy says or that Snape learning the prophecy wasn't a set up).

My theory is this: Dumbledore purposefully chose this method of protection (versus sending Lily and James out of the country with Harry), purposefully chose not to be secret keeper, and set up Godric's Hollow as a means to lure Voldemort into a trap and vanquish him with James, Lily, and Harry as unfortunate collateral damage.

#harry potter #harry potter meta #harry potter headcanon #albus dumbledore #anti albus dumbledore #the potters #james potter #lily evans #meta #headcanon #opinion

173 notes · View notes

scarlettaagni · 1 year ago

Text

Instead of the stupid true form bullshit, Vilgax is maimed OS-pilot-style and washes up onshore where he is discovered by civilians— some being Flamekeepers, then taken in and kept alive in a vat of long-conserved Dagon’s blood

He has a passing resemblance to Dagon, or what depictions they have of him so Vilgax rolls with it because they’re keeping him alive, but more importantly, they will be his ticket to power able to restore himself and then some. He knows of Dagon (how? same way Azmuth knows. they just Do. they hear about things. don’t @ me) and knows the Circle/Esoterica are legit because they have access to dimensional shifting and other abilities of Dagon’s.

Given Psyphon is second in command and also extremely loyal, he orders search and rescues when Vilgax disappears unplanned like that (usually into the Null Void or pitched into space like an angry baseball). By all justified means Vilgax is probably tagged, and thus Psyphon tracks him to the Circle’s holding to rescue him, but he declines. Vilgax is following that lead to more power.

He holds some sway over the Circle, but Vilgax can’t do much from inside a tank, in his state no less, or learn much through questioning since he’s posing as someone who should already know these things, so he needs Psyphon on standby to gather information Vilgax can’t gather himself as he leads the Esoterica on in order to get closer to the real Dagon. Psyphon could even have the bioids mind the ship and keep tabs on him by using an ID mask (salvaged and repaired from Kevin’s in the AF finale since he doesn’t need it anymore) to appear as an Esoterica.

Since Psyphon’s actually been in contact with Vilgax from at least a little after he was taken in by the Flamekeeper’s Circle, Reflected Glory doesn’t happen, unless they feel as though the AF trio is getting suspicious the loyal lackey hasn’t tried to kill them for “killing” Vilgax and they need to stage something, but I would replace it with an episode (maybe even before Psyphon finds Vilgax) where the trio fight Psyphon as he scavenges the wreck of their ship and humans have been sighting him and the investigating Plumbers on the ocean floor, and that news gets to the trio via Jimmy Jones

Also, that tank is clear/greenish, it’s blue because it’s filling up with Vilgax’s blood, blueless version under the cut

The unraveled arm is a sorta nod to how everyone post-OS reimagines Vilgax’s cybernetic arms as being braided tentacles, because I strongly hold onto the opinion that the red tendons you see between his muscles in OS keep them together and that his arm would only unravel like that if blown apart, so the shredded muscles just float/flex independent of each other.

The idea is that my redesigned Dagon is actually fat and fishy like the Lovecraft version, but enough of a passing resemblance to Vilgax so that if either were horribly maimed, they could be mistaken for one another (ex. Vilgax’s front being totally gone concealing he doesn’t have a big belly)

But when they fuse together in rewrite UA finale, they’ll resemble actual Cthulhu.

#nerd stuff #my art #scarletta doodles #ben 10 #vilgax #esoterica arc #gore #body horror #trypophobia #dagon

83 notes · View notes

limecaine · 2 years ago

Text

House of Leaves: The Perception Theory

People apparently liked my last post, so this is another House of Leaves Theory I posted on reddit

Do you know when you first enter a new place, like maybe a new video game or a town you’ve never been to before, and you are in awe of the sheer massiveness of the place. And then over time, as you become more familiar with it, it shrinks down to a manageable size? All of that happened just within your head.

Hi everyone. Some in my last post suggested I write about some of the explanations I have for the “docility problem,” or “why does the house start out dormant and become more aggressive over time?” This is something that I’ve been brewing in my head for a while: The Perception Theory.

The Perception Theory states that the house is a sort of distorted mirror. Anything the inhabitants believe about the house is reflected and becomes true. This is not only about conscious perception but memory as well. Like I pointed out in the opening, new places feel larger. To the Navidsons, the house was a place to be conquered and controlled even before the supernatural events begin. They believed the house was larger, so it became larger - the first hallway. When first moving into a new house, it’s normal to discover new areas and rooms that you didn’t find or forgot about until after a while of living there. The family wasn’t consciously aware of every facet of the house - and were away during this time - and this created a “hole” that the house filled with a pitch black hallway.

It is to be noted that this “perception” element only affects humans. Hillary and Malory (if you forgot, I don’t blame you, but they were the family cat and dog) were completely unaffected by the house, and the motion activated cameras were not triggered by the first Hallway appearing. It’s something innate within us that causes this effect. Curiosity, imagination, higher order thinking, possibly.

This becomes the basis for a snowball effect. Now that the Navidsons’ perceptions of the house were skewed by this new discovery, the whole house grew by 5/16”, then there was the bookcase event, and then the echo chapters. As humans, we can use echo as a way to gauge how large a space is. When the Navidsons first hear an echo within their house, again, the perception is altered. Larger and larger the home grows… that’s until the second Hallway manifests. Again, it is a freezing cold area with absolutely no discernible features. An uncanny mix of a familiar hallway with something extremely alien and empty.

It reminds me of 2001: A Space Odyssey. Some have pointed out that the rooms at the end of the film that Dave resides in are as if an alien with a superficial knowledge of humans tried to build a “zoo” for them. It’s familiar, it’s human, but everything is in the wrong place. The lights are on the floor and all the furniture placement seems off. Rooms are mirrored and even time is warped. In House of Leaves, the labyrinth is like an entity tried to extrude a house without knowing what makes a house… a house. The inhabitants’ perceptions made it larger, but because they didn’t know what they would find so it manifests as nothing, void, the bare minimum.

It should be noted that there are two kinds of “furniture” within the house, doors and banisters. That significance is unknown to me.

The Perception Theory also explains why the exploration team’s supply cashes are destroyed. Halloway brings a gun, anticipating a monster or some kind of enemy within the halls. This causes scratch marks to appear on the neon signs and caches. They were destroyed because the team expected to find them destroyed. The buttons on their shirts disappear not because they were arbitrarily consumed, but because they were not being kept track of. u/kingshaux pointed out something else that was interesting:

Notice how the House only really starts acting like Holloway’s enemy as soon as he starts seeing/treating it like one, almost as if it’s offended/defensive, like a person.

The house reflected Holloway’s hostility onto himself, becoming aggressive towards him but also (attempting to) protect Wax and Jed in the door shutting scene. Holloway expected to be attacked and killed by a monster, but the real monster was him, being reflected back by the house. The teamed exploration occurred at the same time the place outside the hallways started to be referred to with terms aligning with a war. Bases, fronts, attacks, SOS, outposts… the inhabitants’ intentions went from exploration to war. After they find Holloway’s suicide tape, the house tries to consume everyone like it did Holloway. It’s now an enemy in their minds.

The spiral staircase scenes are a major point of the Perception Theory. First of all, it appears that they go down forever, so they go down for a very very long distance. It takes the team days to reach the bottom. But now they they’ve confirmed that there is, in fact, a bottom to it, it takes Navidson 5 minutes to walk down it. Because the perception that it was bottomless changed, the distance changed as well.

So why does the distance stretch so far when Navy tries to leave? Not only does it stretch to an absurdly large size, it’s also a metaphorical distance, as he becomes more and more distant from Karen and his family. Because his connection to the outside is waning. He is mentally consumed by the house at this point, ignoring his wife’s wishes to enter inside (even though it was to save the team, Navidson wanted to go back anyway) the Hallways. But Navidson’s determination wins, as he climbs to bridge that distance even if it might be in vain. He makes it back to Tom. He makes it back to Karen.

This leaves some questions. If Karen’s perception of the house was so fearful, how does she save Navidson in the end? If we assume the colonials weren’t expecting to find anything in the area, why did they find stairs? How did it consume Karen’s Feng Shui and/or did she forget about it? Where does the cat go? Why can the house only manifest doors and hallways?

I get that that’s kind of a lot of loose ends but I didn’t want to make this post too long. Thanks for reading and tell me your ideas.

#house of leaves #houseofleaves #house of leaves theory

86 notes · View notes

levicorpus94 · 2 years ago

Text

Longing

A/N: Hello, this is my first time posting fanfic. Most of my fanfic end up in my drafts. I hope you enjoy.

Warnings: Some angst ig

Sebastian x f!reader

Note: F!reader will be called “she/her”, I don’t particularly enjoy using “M.C” or “Y/N”

Part 2

————————————————————————

It had been five years since she had graduated from Hogwarts. She was now running a small flower and herb shop near Ottery St. Catchpole. Her shop included flowers, magical plants and also vegetation plants. Her shop was attached to her home. She had a small farm with a greenhouse just behind her house where she grew the plants that she sold in her shop.

She also had a few cows and other non magical animals. She lived a self-sufficient life and she was happy but sometimes, she would feel a little alone. She was thankful for her plants and animals but she also missed her friends.

She would sometimes have Poppy and Imelda visiting her every month or so.

She also kept in touch with Ominis though she hadn't heard from him for over a year. She unexpectedly kept the most in touch with Garreth who lived not too far from her little farm.

But mostly, she yearned to hear from Sebastian who had disappeared into the void after their final days in Hogwarts. She felt a pang of anger whenever she thought of him. Sebastian, the boy she was desperately in love with.

The boy who confessed to her of his undying love. The boy, who promised to be by her side forever. But here she was living by herself. She sometimes smiled when she thought of him, their shenanigans, their late night misadventures, even of the boring classes they sat in.

Everything about him seemed so surreal, he now seemed like a faraway dream. She missed him dearly but she wanted answers from him about his empty promises. Why did he stop? Stop talking to her? Stop writing to her? Stop being her friend?

Sometimes, when her heart ached enough for him, she would lightly shed a tear looking through the things they shared and exchanged with each other when they were younger and optimistic.

A piece of parchment which Sebastian passed her during transfiguration asking her to accompany him to the three broomsticks. A small sneakoscope that he gave her that no longer worked. His old advanced book of potions that they shared with number of scribbles all over.

A red rose now completely dry he gave her the first time they spent valentines day together in their 5th year. Her broken spectacles that he accidentally sat on when they were in their 6th year. A silver opal shaped pendant with a necklace with an emerald stone he gave her for last birthday.

She would sift through these mementos among many other letters, scraps and parchments, Sebastian and her shared. Sometimes, she would smile and reminisce fondly of the best days of her life alongside the best people she met and sometimes, she would break down crying into the early hours of the morning.

Her heart longed for him, sometimes she would try to forget about him but would fail miserably. How could she forget those mischievous but loving eyes, his crooked yet smug smile, and his hair, his messy and soft hair.

She missed holding onto his hair as he would bury himself in her neck or elsewhere. Those thoughts would make her smile and a blush would more often than not creep up on her cheeks.

One fine evening, she was tending her greenhouse, when she heard the bell of her shop ring. It was a slow day and it was almost closing time, she slowly walked back to her shop. There was a pretty young woman looking at some of the pansies.

"Hello, may I help you?" She asked the customer.

"Oh hello, I was just admiring your flowers here. They're beautiful." She said cheerfully. A smile crept up her face.

"Thank you." She smiled.

"I was wondering if you have any dittany seeds?" She asked.

"Oh yes. I keep seeds in the back. I'll just get them for you. How many shall I get you?" She asked as she headed to the back.

"Oh, just 2 packets." She heard her.

"Sebastian, come take a look at these beauties." She heard the customer say. Her heart skipped a beat. But Sebastian was a common name, it must be someone else. She found the seeds and went back to the front to hand them to her.

She was now standing with a man, tall, messy brown hair, his hands in his pockets. She only saw the side of him and she knew it was him. She felt a lump in her throat.

She coughed to announce that she had returned.

"Can we take these pot of pansies too?" She said and the both turned around.

It was Sebastian. Sebastian Sallow, in the flesh. Her eyes couldn't believe what she was seeing. It was him.

"Ofcourse!" She said in a falsely cheery voice trying not to get a glance of Sebastian. "That'll be 15 sickles and 10 knuts." She mumbled looking down at her feet.

"Hi, there!" Sebastian said all of a sudden. It was him in the flesh, he sounded the same as he did in school. His voice, his damned voice, that oozed confidence with a touch of smugness. Damn, she loved to hear his voice.

She ignored him still looking at her feet. She felt she would cry if she even looked at him.

"Oh do you know each other?" The girl asked looking at Sebastian.

"Yes, we went to Hogwarts together." He said calmly.

Went to Hogwarts together. His words stung her, she couldn't believe her ears. She couldn't believe he thought so little of her, a new pang of emotion struck her, the one of anger and confidence.

"Oh yeah! Sallow right? Sebastian Sallow." She said smiling, plastering a fake one quickly.

"She was a pretty good duellist back in the day." He smirked. She knew that smirk, it was the old him, his mischievous yet smug smile, the one that challenged her, the one that riled her up.

"Hah! Still am." She retorted back. The girl beside him looked up at Sebastian and back at her and smiled ear to ear.

"It was good meeting you. Always a pleasure to meet one of Sebastian's friends. We're going to be late Sebastian." She said tugging his arm as she led him out of the shop.

As soon as she heard them dissapparate, she felt tears roll down her cheeks. She stood by the counter as tear fell down on to the counter. She quickly wiped off her tears and proceeded to close her shop for the day.

She went back to her cows and tried to continue with the remainder of her day.

It was late at night and Garreth had come over for dinner. He seemed to be the only friend she had at the moment. She was thankful for his company, the few giggles and laughs they shared, she cherished.

"I am finally getting my potions book published!" He said joyfully.

"Merlin's beard Garreth! That is wonderful." She said pulling him into a hug.

"I cannot believe it." She said pulling away smiling at him.

"To be honest, me neither." He said sheepishly. Garreth had grown quite a bit after Hogwarts and he had kept his long curly hair, that helped him get the ladies, he said.

"To think of our Garreth, the Garreth who blew up every cauldron he touched." She laughed.

"You must blow up a few cauldrons, to finally blow people's minds." He said smugly.

"Not literally... I hope." She laughed.

"Yeah yeah." He played off her words.

"Oh, I'm going to be touring with my book release." He announced.

She felt her heart skip a beat when she heard him tell her of his latest announcement. Her frown unknowingly must've crept up to her face.

"I'll write to you every week." He said quickly grabbing her shoulders looking into her eyes before she could plaster a smile on her face.

"You can write to me whenever you have time Garreth." She assured him smiling back.

"I'm just so happy for you. I cannot wait to see you on the daily prophet." She said smiling.

"I promise I'll keep in touch. I know you miss me." He smirked.

"You wish Weasley." She smiled poking him playfully.

"I've got to get going. I'm leaving early in the morning." He continued.

"You're going tomorrow?" She asked surprised. He nodded.

"Well. Keep in touch Weasley." She said giving him another hug. She almost didn't want to let him go. And maybe he felt it too as he held her as tight as he could.

As they pulled away, a tear had crept out of her eye. He wiped it away with his thumb, but his hand rested on her cheek. The two looked at each other and he leaned ever so slightly forward and she did the same.

There was a loud knock on the door. This startled them.

"Who could that be?" She said looking at the time, it was almost midnight.

"Wait." Garreth told her and went to open the door.

It was "Sallow?" Garreth announced in utter shock.

"What are you doing here?" Garreth asked him.

"I might ask you the same thing Weasley." Sebastian replied, his voice was cold and indifferent when seeing Garreth even after so many years.

"I was just saying goodbye to my dear friend here. I'm leaving tomorrow for my book tour." He said with the same indifference.

"Safe travels Garreth." She said as she went to hug him again. He smiled and kissed the top of her head before he left.

"What's he doing here?" Sebastian asked.

"What are YOU doing here?" She asked back.

"I wanted to see you." He replied.

"Why?" She asked turning away from him.

"Why? Because I wanted to see you!" He said his voice a little louder.

"It's late Sallow. You can visit the shop when it's open but the shop is closed tomorrow. So you may return when it's open." She said turning away from him.

He stood there silent. "I came to visit you not the shop." He began.

"Well, it's much too late for a social visit. If it wasn't for Garreth, I would've been asleep already." She said walking away. Sebastian didn't move from where he was standing. She could feel his gaze following her around the room.

"Can we talk?" He practically begs.

"Depends. What about?" She asks, her back still facing him.

"About us." He begins.

"Get out." She says slamming her fist on the table next to her.

"I'm not doing this Sallow. You leave right this moment." She says as she walks to open the door.

"Since when have you started calling me Sallow?" He asked still not moving from his place.

"You need to go right now." She yanks his arm and directs him outside and immediately slams the door on his face. She slumps down on the floor her back leaning against the wall as tears automatically fall from her cheeks to the floor.

Her heart hurts, she feels like she can't breathe, there is a lump in her throat making it hard for her to swallow. She covers her face with her hands as she sobs into her hands.

"I hate you." She whimpers. Little did she know that Sebastian was still on the other side of the door. He had slumped down to the floor as well. He could hear her crying. He heard her saying she hated him but perhaps not as much as he hated himself. He supported his head with both his hand as his head leaned against the door.

He knew she might never forgive him. He knew that everything he promised her meant nothing. He left her all alone. He knew it would break her yet he did.

But one thing he knew was that he loved her. He loved her ever since their 4th year. The last years were rough for him as well. His downward spiral into learning and doing the dark arts, losing Anne, losing his uncle, it all dawned upon him. So he left, he ran away. He knew he was a coward. But he couldn't live with himself. He was ashamed of himself. He felt like...no, he knew he was a failure.

She had fallen asleep crying to herself on the floor and woke up from the pain on her back. She saw it was still dark outside. She suddenly remembered that she had forgotten to close the skylight of the shop. She opened her door and to her surprise, Sebastian fell on his back on her floor, his head hitting the cold stone floor.

He woke up with a start.

"Oww" he mumbled, rubbing the back of his head.

"Sebastian!" She exclaimed.

"What in Merlin's name?!" She said looking exasperated. He looked cold, she could see him slightly shivering. She felt a little joy to see him suffer but she was concerned too, it was starting to get colder at night.

He slowly got up and continued to rub his head and stood with a small pout.

"I see some things never change." She commented smirking slightly at his pout.

"You look like a lost puppy." She continued.

"What are you waiting for? Get in before you freeze to death." she said in a soft voice concerned. "Sallow." She added in a completely different voice. She directed him to sit on the couch and brought him some hot tea as she gave him a blanket.

She left him with the tea and blanket to go to the shop to close the skylight, and when she returned, she saw that Sebastian was hunched over at the corner, his back to her.

"What are you doing on the floor?" She said voice a little loud. Sebastian turned around with the box of their mementos, one hand holding the box, another the dried up rose he had given her.

She had completely forgotten to put the box back in its safe spot. But to be fair she wasn't exactly expecting Sebastian sallow himself to be rummaging through it.

He looked at her with pleading eyes before he walked up to her and hugged her. She completely stood still, her arms still at her side.

"I'm sorry." His shoulders slumped over her body and his arms wrapped around her. She felt like she was about to cry again but there were no tears. The two must've stood there for what seemed like hours before Sebastian pulled apart.

"I'm sorry." He whispered.

"I wish that meant anything Sebastian." She mumbled back.

"Please." He begged placing a hand on her face.

"You might as well slap me Sebastian. It wouldn't be as hurtful." She mumbled with a blank look on her face.

She gently removed his hand from her face.

"I thought I loved you. And I really did love you. But seeing you today made me realise that you already made that decision for us. You never think of anyone else except yourself, and I honestly didn't care about it as long as you were with me, but now, I just hope you find what you're looking for and I for sure know that, it's not me. You made sure of that too. I was ready to go with you. But you made your choice there too. You can't love anyone Sebastian Sallow. You only want people when they have something to give." She said walking away.

"I think it's best if you go now. And you can take that box with you. It's the last thing I can give you. My memories of you, that I've kept and cherished for so long. They've kept me up all night and sometimes helped me sleep. They're the best and the worst thing I've had and you can take them away too. Maybe after this, I won't have anything else left to give, and you can let me have my life back." She said monotonously as she held the door open waiting for him to leave. He stared at her begging with his eyes.

His eyes watered but she refused to look into them. He walked out of the door and she stood by it making sure he wouldn't stay. Sebastian pulled the box to his chest and walked out of her house and she watched as his silhouette fade into the night, hoping to never see him ever again.

Part 2

#hogwarts legacy #Sebastian sallow #sebastian sallow x you #sebastian sallow x reader #hogwarts #hogwarts legacy fan fic #sebastian sallow fan fic

119 notes · View notes

greeniegreengreen · 1 year ago

Text

No because this hit me randomly while trying to complete my assignments and I wanna get out as much as I can before it disappears into the "I really should've written that down void"

Jason Todd x Reader

Duke Thomas x Reader

TO THE PEOPLE WHO DID PUT IN ASKS, THEY'LL BE DONE AND POSTED AS SOON AS I SUBMIT(hopefully tomorrow, Sunday, midday latest) Y'all put in some good shit for me to write and I actually wanna get it out proper instead of just drabbling it out in a rush - unless that's what you want

ANYWAYS BACK TO MY THOTS - well more like the one’s reader gone be looking into >:]

SUGGESTIVE = +18, MDNI

Word Count: IDK,,,just words enough to try and clear this out my system

Didn't have a set gender in mind so it can be Female/Male/Gender Neutral,,however you choose to perceive it.

For as long as you can remember, you have always been able to read people’s thoughts and feelings. Heck if you focused with little effort on a person you’d be able to see into their minds and get an exact picture of what was in there.

That little what you called a cheat is what helped you become one of the best Interior Designers in Gotham. You were able to get exactly what a client wanted and they absolutely loved you for that, not knowing any better of course.

Of course with such rising popularity the Wayne Family had to have to redesign a few spaces for them, be it at the Manor, Tower or any holiday homes that they felt needed a change.

With your budding romance towards a specific family member comes very specific thoughts and crafted images every time you seem to be alone together.

JASON

Why would you be seeing the kitchen? As you kept focused on what seemed to be a memory from when Bruce had hired you to work on the kitchen with Alfred taking the lead on the project as it was his space more than anyone else's. It seemed he remembered the exact outfit you had on that day too. A simple beige tee tucked in baggy pale blue jeans and grey converses to finish the look. Put together but not too stuffy. You stood right by the island with a pencil between your teeth and a large sheet of paper laid out in front of you. You had been looing at the most recent layout of the kitchen to give you an idea of how to play around with how everything was set. Alfred from the looks of things wanted it to be more effective but gain a more polished look.

Jason's obsession with literature was no secret to anybody who lived in the Manor so it was no surprise when he had called you in to take a look at the ever aging library. After seeing how you had set the kitchen per Alfred's request he was eager to have you work on it.

You had come in on day one wearing your beige blouse jumpsuit to discuss and get a general idea of what he wanted to get done. The mention of trying to fit more books in didn't sound as impossible as he had hoped. It was just a matter of using the pre-exisiting infrastructure to your advantage while adding new bits and bobs to reach the idea he had in mind.

On day two you had brought in your iPad and pencil to scribble some potential sketches that you were sure Jason would love from what you looked into the day before. With him now browsing at the layout options, you were sat across from him on a what had to be a Baltimora Bespoke Rococo sofa in a pale yellow eyeing his every move. He was very good looking, the white streak in his black hair brought out the evergreen in his eyes that shone a dark blue when the light hit them right. Build quite big and towering compared to you, it was a little daunting yet alluring when he looked down on you with a slight tilt of his head however sitting down even though he did still surpass you in height you would be able to maintain eye contact without feeling a type of way. He seemed to be taking his time with his choice so a little peak into his mind wouldn't be a bother.

The kitchen?

With your mind somewhere else you had not noticed him coming into the kitchen until he had made his way behind you to get to the fridge, leaving out a barely audible excuse me.

His failed attempt at pardoning himself had caused you to turn right as he tried to get past you. A trip in your feet at both shock of someone else being in the kitchen and bumping into them almost caused you to fall.

Jason had caught you right by your waist, grip tight and pulling you close to try and keep you both steady. You hands crunching up into the front of his shirt as this was the first thing you had grabbed. He at that moment was trying to calm his breathe as he was sure with how close your hands were to his chest that you could feel his increasing heartbeat. He'd seen you before on magazines and interviews, a few times around the Manor too but this was the first time he was able to meet you in person. Much less this up close. You were quite attractive and that didn't make this situation any better. You had looked up in that moment and by the widening of your eyes it seemed as if you had just understood who exactly you bumped into.

What felt like minutes on the day, moved by within seconds of you two removing each other from the other from the looks of the memory. Your hands sliding down his chest swiftly while his had taken a rather unhurried path to your waist before letting go completely.

You remember that day very well. You were too flustered by everything that you never ever tried to look into what he thought of the entire thing before apologising and resuming what you were planning on doing.

As much as you remember the memory stopped there, but his didn't?

He put in something.

Instead of his hands fully leaving your hips he had used his grip to pull you closer to his heating body. A small gasp escaping your lips at the surprise of the action.

He walked you backwards towards the island making sure you didn't hit the edge harshly. Before bringing up his right hand to place right by your throat keeping his eyes on yours. The gap closing between the two of you before lips met right in the middle. A kiss one that was filled with curiosity and excitement dragged on in his mind.

His hands coming to lift you so that you were sat on the counter, the perfect height for him to lean his hips into your open legs properly.

He let out a small grunt of the word, "Fuck."

You let out a small whimper before pulling away from the memory completely. Wanting to focus on the current moment.

"Everything alright?" Jason asked in a worried tone at the sudden sound.

"Dandy." You gave a small smile trying to brush off what you just saw.

DUKE

You and Duke got along. A little too well one would say. After meeting at a gala Bruce had hired you to furnish which lead to an invitation to the event, you had gotten closer each day.

Duke enjoyed the conversations he had with you about anything and nothing whereas you enjoyed the change of pace of things. It all felt nice and mundane outside of being able to read people's minds and being a vigilante.

Your most favourite things to do was watch cringe level rom-coms. What was better than being able to sit in front of the in-house theater with all your favourite snacks and foods, a blanket and pillows that created a plush nest of sorts for you too. Every Tuesday night, as random as the day seemed it worked perfectly. Dick was on night shift, Tim barely left the office on weekends much less weekdays and nights, Damian was always quick to disappear to the Batcave (Duke would just say he was in "bed") Bruce would end up holed in his study with lord knows what, Jason hadn't been home in 4 months after deciding he needed his own space and going back to his apartment and Alfred always excused himself early on Tuesday as it was never really busy around then.

Tuesday nights were always just perfect for you two. A nice time to just feel second-hand embarrassment together from what the characters did on screen.

However today was not the same as any other day. A new movie was released on Netflix the Sunday before so naturally you and Duke had decided to set it to the following Tuesday's movie night. Neither of you had bothered to look at the trailer believing in the skimmed over reviews and it being labelled a rom-com. What more did you expect but something to crunch your face over.

You had come in with your summer pjs as the weather was warming up and made your way to the theater, ready to help Duke set things up. He had already laid out his half of things while you proceeded to give him a quick greeting and putting everything you brought with yourself down.

Once all was set and the lights were turned off, you began the movie.

Nothing seemed out of place, it followed a typical girl who needed to move back to her hometown for reasons that always had to do with a job. As she gets back she reconnects with old friends, crushes and flings.

You and Duke share laughs at the obvious plot and proceed to make bets on who the end-goal love interest would be in this one. Would it be the guy she had a crush on in first grade? Or her male best friend that had the biggest crush on her her entirety of high school but never confessed? Or would it be the bad boy she had lost her virginity to on Prom Night as an impromptu thing as she didn't want to leave high school a virgin.

As fun as placing the bets was with the promise of pizza as the prize, nothing could have prepared you two for what you were about to witness.

Right on screen as the female lead and one of the potential love interests shared a kiss, it seemed to get heated?

A lot more heated than a standard rom-com would allow actually. And were they taking off their clothes?

What was the rating on this again?

It had to be +18NL with how things were playing out. Quite explicit too.

Removing your eyes from the screen to glance at Duke, you notice how he doesn't seem to budge. Eyes glued and focused as he gulps down the saliva building up on his tongue.

Curious to what his thoughts were on the unexpected sex scene that they were experiencing for the first time together, you were taken aback.

From what you could make out you were right under Duke, both of you bare chested like the characters on the screen, both of you breathing out heavily like the characters on the screen, both of you closing the gap like the characters on the screen. It's when the point of view changes to Duke's perspective of things that you realise he's projecting you both on what you're both watching.

Duke inches down your body maintaining eye contact as he gets to your covered bottom. Eyes flicking down to the material before looking back up at you as if begging to remove them. You give him a nod and he eagerly give a quick kiss through them before yanking them off hurriedly so. Duke gulps again both on in his projection and in person before going all in tasting every inch of you.

Your eyes move to watch the screen and not him and as it was all playing out in his head there the two characters were getting it on exactly as he projected it.

Grabbing for the remote, you pause it.

"I think we need a break from that, no?" You suggest feeling flustered thanking every being out there that allowed you to be in such a dark room at this moment.

Duke was a very good looking guy, his personality made him a solid catch too. But it was another thing to tell the guy you've been chilling with casually as friends that you felt heated from his thoughts and would be more than willing to play it out right there in the theater.

Duke gulped for a third time before nodding and agreeing.

Maybe on another time would you initiate something, just in the privacy of your home lounge this time.

#duke thomas x reader #duke thomas #jason todd x reader #jason todd #gender neutral reader #redhood #dc x reader #dc x fem!reader #dc x male reader #batman #signal x reader #redhood x reader #smut #drabble #my thots #I have 2 submissions tomorrow but writing motivation go brrrrrr

38 notes · View notes