#death has visited upon them both

[rhaenyradelights]

when you say rhaenyra is not daemon’s childwife, what do you mean?

this has been ennumerated exhaustingly by people much better with words that i, but they very very very specifically do not get married until rhaenyra is a grown woman, and that is both a result of daemon's aborted attempts at "saving her" from him, and a source of real deep pain for rhaenyra. it is so incredibly important to the crux of their dynamic that rhaenyra's childhood was marked by the euphoria of being around daemon and then long (frequent) periods of being separated from him. that's where the whole vision at harrenhal comes in....

he sweeps in and then he leaves the wreckage behind. and though a very large part of this is because of viserys, and daemon's continual banishments as punishment, it still harms her irrevocably. and even as he takes her to the brothel, he stops, and he does try to save her. it was never going to work, but it's like. very important that he tries. and not only does he try, but he leaves for a decade. and he is entirely ready to leave her again and go back to pentos with the dragon twins, before she stops him. and she, as an adult, proposes a marriage that is both politically advantageous but also an attempt to stop the constant wounding from abandonment that she carries with her. they get married in the style of old valyria, with a blood bond (are they not already bonded by blood), so that he can never leave her again in any way that matters.

but at this point. she's an adult. he's left her alone for ten years, and her childhood before then was a tapestry of dashed hopes. in all the spaces he left behind grew her fears of inadequacy, her fears of abandonment, her fierce attempts at Becoming Him when he wasn't there to be himself, an independent life carved out of a very particular cage of expectation but still, in rhaenyra's own word's, droll tragedy.

and so now when they fight, they are bringing a specific set of hurts and resentments and histories - tied to viserys of course, but also a result of the rope-burn from the stretched cord between them, and the tension between rhaenyra's current role as his queen that he must prostrate himself for, and his wife/niece, who remains, as always, the most beloved person in his life.... and rhaenyra's knowledge that even as he has married her, crowned her, and serves her, she can never truly stop him from getting on caraxes and acting of his own free will, and leaving her. he is the sword, he wants to be beholden to her and serve her, but she is not his childbride, and she never was, and that's a source of profound regret and also the site of some of their deepest pain.

[daybreakrising]

VAUTRIN DRABBLE; FAMILY REUNION

Many people take comfort from the sombre peace of a graveyard; Vautrin does not. To him, graveyards are painful reminders of grief, of failure. He has held this notion since the day he watched his sister committed to the earth, maintained it with every year that passed when he came, alone, to lay romaritime flowers at her headstone. He has stood beside the graves of victims he could not save, made promises to the departed to seek justice in their name. He has said goodbye to colleagues lost in the line of duty. He has confirmed with his own eyes that the vilest of humanity have finally met their end.

He has felt many things in this graveyard; but never comfort.

He follows a path committed to muscle memory, weaves between the stones until he finds the family plot he knows will be more populated than the last time he was here. Most people, of course, expect to one day stand before the graves of their parents. Most people don't expect to do this for the first time after four hundred years. He had always been uncertain, whenever he had considered this eventuality in the past, of how he would feel about the deaths of his parents. Would there be a part of him that still mourned their loss, as if nothing had happened? Or would he feel numb, unable to process grief for people who were no longer familiar to him?

Nothing has changed in four hundred years. He is still uncertain. When he thinks of what he is about to witness, only a confusing muddle of emotion is his answer. So, he supposes, he will only know for sure when it happens. Perhaps there is a sense of apprehension as he approaches the plot, situated beneath an oak tree that had been a guardian of the dead even when he was a boy. It is now much larger than he recalls, the blanket of its shade stretching further.

The tree is not the only thing that is different about the scene that greets him. He used to recognise the family plot only by this tree, but now it boasts an entirely different landmark: a large marble statue of two dancers upon a stage, entwined romantically in the midst of their performance. It is an artistic piece, faces devoid of any true features or likeness, but he knows at once who it is meant to represent. Even now, he recognises something in the pose, the posture, the emotion of the dance. The sculptor must have been one of the finest money could buy.

It sits atop a wide, upright slab of that same marble, which bears two names in gilded lettering: Évariste & Aurélie. There are more words carved beneath, but for now he pays them no heed. In fact, he turns his head away entirely, sparing no second glance for his parents' names, and instead directs his gaze to the smaller headstone that sits to the right. Illaria. Beloved daughter, treasured sister. A shining star dimmed too soon. Oh, how he had loathed those last words, as if she could be diminished only to her promise upon the stage, and not mourned for the person she would never be. If he had been allowed to choose the words, he would not have chosen those.

He lowers himself to one knee, sets down the bag he has carried with him. "I'm sorry it's been so long. I wasn't allowed a chance to say goodbye, and then… well, that's a complicated story. But hopefully this will make up for my long absence." With great care he removes the item from the bag and sets it equally as carefully at the base of her headstone. It is the second of its kind that he's had made: a glass dome filled with water, within which is planted a blooming romaritime flower. "I always promised you I'd find a way for them to bloom forever. Now you won't have to wait for rain to enjoy your flowers."

His hand reaches forward, traces the gilded lettering of her name. Grief wells up in him with a ferocity that hasn't dimmed since the day he lost her, his chest aching with it until he bows his head and grits his teeth against the torrent. "You should have outlived all of us." He lingers for several moments in silent grief, his hand pressed to the cool stone. There are too many things he wants to say to speak them aloud, so he conveys them through this touch, through the memories he summons. Then he leans forward, presses his lips to the top of the stone as he rises to his feet. "Rest well, little sister. Dance amongst the flowers and imagine I am with you."

If he could, he would sit with her all day and night, tell her all that has become of her big brother – but there is something he must do, because if he doesn't do it now, then he never will. And so, he turns back, once more, to the graves of his parents: Évariste & Aurélie. You gave meaning to my music; you gave rhythm to my dance. A devoted husband and a cherished wife, reunited at last upon another stage.

He takes in the dates inscribed beneath their names. His father died first – and it is almost surprising to note the relief he feels at this knowledge. Of the two of them, he was always the more emotional, the most sensitive. Losing her would have destroyed him, Vautrin is certain of that. His mother, it seems, lasted less than a year before following her husband into death. Perhaps losing him destroyed her. And he feels yet more relief at knowing they both lived to a good age. Unlike both of their children.

But relief is all he can identify in the tumultuous storm inside his heart. Perhaps it is as he always feared – that they have become too distant, that too much time has passed, and he is numb to their loss. Perhaps he mourned their loss when they turned their backs on him, and there is nothing left to grieve for. And it strikes him then – the guilt. Guilt for the things he never said, guilt for the shame he would have brought upon their name. Maybe he cannot grieve because he feels he does not deserve to.

He begins to turn away – this was a mistake, he thinks – and his eyes catch upon another headstone that sits to the left of his parents'. It lies within the border of the family plot, sheltered beneath the same shade, constructed from the same marble with the same gilded lettering carved into its face. His eyes trace the words, the name, and the breath catches so sharply in his throat that it burns.

Vautrin. Beloved son, respected captain. An honourable man who stood for those who could not stand for themselves, who gave his life for his duty and served Fontaine until the end. You made us proud.

He knew he would have a grave somewhere, but he had not expected it to be here – and he mentally scolds himself for daring to think so ill of his own parents, who would never have been so cruel as to exclude him from being laid to rest with his sister. It is a mark of how strained their relationship became, how bitter the blood was between them, that he would ever doubt that. But it is the words themselves that choke him so, that it is not some bare minimum inscription, something flat and emotionless, but something with feeling. He knows without a hint of doubt that these words are from his parents' hearts.

You made us proud.

Grief punches him in the gut, brings him to his knees before them. His hands sink into the grass that grows atop their resting place, fingers digging into dirt as his chest burns with the effort to contain the tides within. Tears sting at his eyes, tears he never believed he could shed, and he bows forward until his forehead touches the ground between his hands.

"I'm sorry," he sobs, words he has kept upon the tip of his tongue for far too long. "I'm sorry I waited too long to make amends. I'm sorry I never sent that letter." He'd made it as far as the post room in the Fortress, letter in hand – but he had never gone inside, never handed it over. They don't want to know, he had told himself then. Oh, how wrong he must have been. You made us proud. Words he had longed to hear from them from the day he became a garde. Had they followed his progress, he wonders now? Did they read the articles in the newspaper? Did they celebrate his promotion to Captain? Had they swelled with pride at seeing him standing beside the Iudex of Fontaine?

Had they supported him all this time and he never knew?

"I never needed your approval, but I… I wanted it. That's all I wanted – to hear you say you were proud of me, that I was doing the right thing. That I was still the son you used to boast about to your friends, to any who would listen. That I was still one of your shining stars." He lifts his head, scrubs at the tears that streak his cheeks. The sky has darkened above him, casting a greyness upon the graveyard that soon spills into the patter of raindrops all around him, as if Fontaine itself can sense his unending grief. "I used to tell myself you wanted nothing to do with me because you never once reached out, never spoke to me again. That I had probably ceased to exist in your world. But maybe you believed it was the reverse, that you had ceased to exist for me, that when I walked out that day and never looked back, my tie to you was severed beyond repair. Mama, Papa… forgive me, for all the things I said, for all the things I never said. Forgive me for the pain I caused you, for the shame I brought upon you. Forgive me for being so stubborn that even at my lowest I could not bear to give even an inch to you." He draws in a breath, shaky and shallow; his fingers dig deeper into the earth. "Forgive me for taking another child from you, for forcing you to outlive both your children. Forgive me… forgive me."

As he had with Illaria, he remains there in silent grief for several moments before he can find the strength to rise, to lay a hand upon the headstone. He doesn't have flowers to lay at their graves, but he does have an old, well-loved violin bow which he sets now at the feet of the dancers. Flowers for his sister; a memento of the music they loved for his parents. A chance find as he strolled the streets of Fontaine in preparation for this visit, as if fate itself had deigned to lend him aid.

"I'm home now, Mama, Papa. I'm sorry it took so long." He bows his head again, then turns away – Carole is not buried here, he knows, but there is a memorial dedicated to the gardes who died in service and her name is counted among them. Inside his bag is a crudely fashioned model of a human and a Melusine holding hands in friendship, made from nuts and bolts and screws and other mechanical parts. He is certainly no sculptor, but Carole would have loved it, nonetheless.

He steps out from beneath the tree, tips his face back into the falling rain. Somewhere, he suspects, there is a dragon mourning with him, a reminder that he is not alone, and never will be. "Hydro dragon, hydro dragon, don't cry…" He murmurs to the clouds. "Do not be sad for me, for not all tears are an evil."

[novelistwriter]

The Phantom Omega

DP x DC Prompt

Danny was an Omega, he knew that, but because of his accident, he can't go into Heat anymore. He's a bit sad that he can't have kids but he'll eventually get over it. He didn't get over it.

When he took the mantle of Ghost King centuries ago, he was expected to have heirs, but he wasn't told that until recently by the Observants.

He hasn't been visiting his dimension much, but he learned that the GIW are long gone during one of his visits to his dimension. The reason for his visits is because of his Omega instincts to nurture a Pup.

Over the centuries, Danny had felt the emotions of Pups on the verge of Death because they have no Omega Parent to care for them. He became a 'wet nurse' to those Pups he cared for until a suitable parent took them it.

Those Pups he did care for wanted him to their Omega Parent, but at the time, he wasn't able to care for Pup because he was focused on his Ghost King duties. And now that the Observants have told him that he needs an heir, they have allowed him to take as much time off of his duties to acquire an heir.

What Danny doesn't know about his dimension is that he became a worldwide Myth. He became the 'Mother of the Lost' when the Pups he cared for shared their experiences with him, and the stories became altered over time in the centuries that had passed. That also became one of his titles in the Infinite Realms.

About a month into Danny's search for a Pup that needs caring for, he feels intense emotions of Sadness from a Pup in Gotham, so he goes there as fast as he can.

What he finds is a little boy Pup crying over the bodies of his parents in an alleyway. His Omega pheromones get the attention of the Pup, who looks at Danny with tear stained cheeks. His instincts are telling him to soothe the Pup and care for him, and that's what he does, but he doesn't force it upon the Pup, he allows the Pup to cone to him for comfort.

Bruce, that's his new Pups name, and he loves his Pup. A few weeks after he moved into Wayne Manor, he felt the sadness of another Pup who lost their Omega Parent, but this time, it led him to Central City.

He had gotten a new Pup, promising the Alpha Father to care for the Pup. Barry, that's the name of his second Pup, and just like Bruce, he'll love Barry with all his heart for as long as he remains.

Years go by and Danny has been running Wayne Enterprises, since he's become the Parent to Bruce, which is a lot easier than his Ghost King duties. Bruce left the nest to go train around the world when he became an Adult. Danny respects Bruce's decision, since he's no longer a Pup (But he still is in Danny's mind). Barry had grown attached to Danny, staying in Gotham to be with Danny and Bruce, they have formed familial bonds with each other.

News of Danny spread throughout the world, this is when he learned of the 'Mother of the Lost' Myth. People have been coming to get a glimpse of him (Danny stays in his Phantom form most of the time, and his Phantom form is what's described in the Myth).

He fought off a lot of unsavory people trying to force a bond with him. It's mostly Alpha's who believe to be the perfect match for Danny. Danny isn't looking for love any time soon because he has a family to care for. This also causes Haly's Circus to come earlier than in canon.

Danny and Barry went to see the Circus when it came to Gotham. Danny couldn't save the Grayson's because he was getting food for Barry, who had become the Flash still but based in Gotham and not Central. He takes in a much younger Dick when he comforts the Pup after seeing that the Pup watched his parents fall to their death.

Many more years went by, and Danny had acquired a lot more Pups during and after the Justice League was formed. Jason, Tim, Stephanie, Cass, Kon, Damian, Billy, and two more on the way. Dani and Dan wanted a new start, so they both decided that they needed to be reborn again, this lead to Danny hosting both of their cores in him. He still hasn't told his family that he was the Ghost King, his Family learned of it when they failed to stop a summoning. Needless to say, all of the people in the summoning grounds are confused when Danny is summoned by the Cult Leader before anyone could stop the leader from chanting.

"Surprise...?"

[livinghalfway]

Bury Him with the Roses Pt. 1

Masterlist

Summary: Damian learns that his twin is alive only to learn that he was dead and buried a few hours before his impromptu arrival to the Fenton household. When he goes to visit Danyal's final resting place he finds two individuals digging up his brother's grave.  Word Count: 1302

Damian will say time and time again that school is a waste of his time. Which is why he'll never admit that he enjoys projects that allow him to truly deep dive on subjects he wouldn't normally have any reason to. 

This specific school project has him doing research about animals that were once thought to be doomed for extinction only for their numbers to rise once more. Which is how Damian found himself looking at the face of a familiar looking boy that disappeared so many years ago; his twin. 

Apparently, his brother saved the purple-back gorillas from going extinct a year after his disappearance from the League. Instead of reading further into the article, and wondering how so many professionals were able to miss something so critical to an animal's survival, he's stuck on the photo of Danyal smiling at the camera. 

It feels as if he was staring at that face for hours when a knock on his bedroom door breaks his concentration. 

"Master Damian, dinner will be served in a few moments if you wish to join us downstairs." Alfred calls out from behind the door. 

"Thank you Pennyworth, I'll be down soon." He replies as calmly as he can, and it isn't until he hears footsteps heading away from his door does he feel like he can breathe again. 

Before this Damian was fine with keeping the secret of Danyal close to his chest. He knows how this family deals with death, and he didn't want to put them through any more grief for a child they would never meet. 

So how is he meant to reveal something so frightening. How are they going to react to this kind of betrayal; keeping a brother and son from them all because he didn't think they could handle it.   

These thoughts are like a whirlwind as Damian slowly makes his way to the dining room. Upon entering he finds that everyone else is already seated. Which is when he remembers that this is one of those rare dinners where even Jason has agreed to attend. 

Silently, he takes a seat with Bruce on his right, and Dick on his left. Damian would have been glad to just sail through the meal without saying anything, but of course Dick had to notice his voice missing from the choir. 

"Baby bat, is everything all good? I don't think I've heard a single quip out of you tonight." Damian can tell he's trying to be casual with his question, but his concern is not hard to miss.  

This was his moment to just confess everything wasn't it? He takes a calming breath and clears his throat before speaking. "Actually Richard, there is an announcement I must make. Something that I have kept to myself for far too long." 

It's clear that everyone heard him as the table goes quiet, and all eyes look toward him.  "I have a- a twin brother." 

There. There it is. Finally out in the open. 

That doesn't calm his heart thundering in his chest though as voices explode all around him with questions and demands. His father's though is the one that he pays any attention to. 

"What is his name?" With the look on Bruce's face Damian wonders if stabbing him would have been kinder than doing this. 

"His name is Danyal al Ghul, though I've recently discovered that he goes by the name Daniel Fenton now." 

With the mention of a name Damian sees both Tim and Babs pulling out their phones to seemingly try, and find any information that can on his brother. 

"Wait! A twin? Why didn't he come to Gotham with you then?" Duke, who is sitting across from him, questions. 

"As of an hour or so ago I believed him to be dead." He feels Dick put a comforting hand on his shoulder, "He- he went on a mission with Mother, and never returned. I was told to forget all about him; that he was nothing but a weakness that would hold me back." 

"Dami, I'm-" Dink starts to say something, but is interrupted by Bruce speaking up. 

"You said you found out he was alive today, how? Are you sure it is him." Damian recognizes that tone, it's not his Father speaking anymore, it's Batman. 

"Bruce." Dink's voice has a warning tone to it as he clearly doesn't like the way he's speaking to him. If anything though Damian prefers it right now. It allows him to think of this conversation more as a mission report than a personal one.

"I was doing research for school, and I came across an article about purple-back gorillas. It featured his name as well as a photo of Danyal due to his impact on the species." 

"And you're positive it is not someone who just looks like him?" 

"I gave Danyal a scar on his jaw before he left with Mother. The same scar can be seen in the photo." 

"Found it." Tim announces, "And a scar is on the kid's jaw." 

Jason, who is now leaning halfway out of his seat to look at Tim's phone, gives a whistle as he gets a look at the photo. "Yup, that is definitely your kid B. Looks just like the demon brat too minus the eyes of course.” 

Without a word Bruce holds out a hand for the phone, and silently Tim passes it down to him. Everyone can tell he’s trying to keep his emotions to himself, but when he takes a look at the photo it’s clear something inside him is breaking. Knowing that he didn’t just miss the youth of not just one son, but two. 

Slowly he slides the phone back to Tim before focusing on Babs, "Have you found any other information about him?"

"I'll have to do a more in depth search once I get my hands on an actual computer. The article is so far the only thing I've been able to find so far." Her face in a frown as she continues to search for more. 

"Could the kid just not have any socials, and that's why nothing is popping up?" Stephanie questions. 

"I would normally assume so if it weren't for the fact that I can barely find anything about his hometown that was listed in the article." 

"Hm." Bruce's face is set in a deep frown as he stands up, "Let's continue this in the cave. I want a full report on every single thing found about Danyal, and who he's currently living with." 

Practically everyone at those words rushed down to the cave, Damian on the other hand stayed seated. His eyes closed, and head slightly bowed. He couldn't help but wonder if he had done the right thing revealing Danyal's existence to everyone. 

His twin must know that he is in Gotham after all. Why hasn't he reached out?

Despite the table now being empty Damian knows that he is not alone; behind him is a looming presence. 

“Damian, sweetheart.” Bruce lays a gentle hand on his shoulder, his mask now completely gone as every emotion runs through his voice. “I wish you would have told me about your brother sooner. I’m sure you have your reasons though, and will want to hear them later. For now though I’m just going to ask if you’re alright.” 

He didn’t know how to answer that question so instead he just stands up, and says, “I’ll be better once I see Danyal again. I assume you’ll be going to him once we have his location.” 

“... Yes, I will be.” 

“Then I will be joining you, and you can not stop me from doing so.” With that said Damian turns and strides towards the cave. A new goal now set in his mind. 

Bring Danyal home. 

[yoonjae20]

Bruce is (secretly) married [Bruce/Danny; Spirit Halloween]

I got sucked into the DPxDC crossover rabbit hole. I have read too many fanfics despite not knowing the source material.

I randomly got the idea of Bruce being secretly married and the Batfam finding out about it after Duke poses the question of why Bruce wears a ring. (Also how Danny's influence would have subtly changed things.)

Read this on ao3. Masterpost

Next.

Bruce had always worn the ring, long before Dick came around – at least that’s what the boy had told Jason when he asked about it. 

They had looked through the records one night – bonding over finding out when he started, but he had already worn the ring once the man returned from his seven year long  journey of training. The media had speculated it to be a family heirloom – either his father’s or mother’s wedding ring. Bruce neither confirmed or denied when they asked about it.  

The man never took it off, not even when he stalked the night as Batman and neither of them had been brave enough to ask about it, after they watched clips where the media asked and his Brucie mask slipped into something uncomfortably blank. 

Jason had quickly forgotten about it after Bruce had benched him from being Robin after Felipe Garzonasa’s death. He had been furious, questioning if Bruce didn’t believe him that he didn’t push the man.

“Of course I believe you, chum,” the man had said, but Jason didn’t trust the man’s words. “But you just saw a man die. That’s not something we should brush over.”

He had sent Jason to bed for the night, but the boy had sneaked out, believing Bruce to go back to patrol after dropping him off. He instead found him in his office, talking to someone on the phone.

“...You have better experience with stuff like this than me…” the man said. “Do you think I should have never given Jason Robin? I know Dick agreed, but…” Bruce trailed off and then paused to hear the other person’s response. “I know.” He let out a deep sigh. “I’ll talk to him tomorrow about it. Are you still planning on visiting for the anniversary? I would appreciate if you tried talking to-”

Jason didn’t wait to listen for more. He knew it. Bruce was going to take Robin away from him. 

He remembered the picture he had found of his birth mother. He initially had wanted to tell Bruce to get his help to find her, but now he isn’t sure if it’s such a good idea. If the man was gonna take Robin away from him anyway, he didn’t want to be there for the moment. 

With that goal in mind, unbeknownst to Bruce, he disappeared that night, setting out to the Middle East to find his mother. 

Bruce finds his corpse several weeks later. Dick breaks down in space when he receives the call from Bruce. They attend the funeral together, neither of them talking about it, even years later.

Jason returns several years later, dead set on revenge on Joker and on Bruce for never avenging him. What he doesn’t expect is to stumble over a newspaper celebrating the anniversary of the Jason Scholarship Foundation along with pictures of his funeral, showcasing both Bruce and Dick crying. 

He never stumbles upon a memorial with his battered Robin suit and the description “Jason Todd, a Good Soldier” and beats Tim Drake, the third Robin half dead for replacing him. Instead he returns to the Manor, overwhelmed at Bruce’s breakdown and reaction. Red Hood debuts several months later – with the Bat symbol on his chest. They still have their conflicts, but Jason never has to fill a duffel bag full of heads for his debut. 

It’s only once Damian arrives, Cass becomes Bruce’s daughter and Duke his ward that the topic of the ring gets brought up again. It’s Duke who asks what they all have been thinking. 

“By the way, why does Bruce wear a ring?”

Finding no information online and not managing to get anything out of Alfred, they break into Bruce’s office while he’s on patrol getting distracted by Damian and Cass. It’s Tim who finds it, in a locked drawer, sealed carefully.

A marriage certificate. 

“Who the hell is Daniel Fenton?” Jason questions gruffly.

“My husband.”

Jason startles, turning to the doorway. Bruce is standing there, his arm crossed and he cringes at the displeased raise of Bruce’s right eyebrow. Behind him Cass shrugs at Tim’s questioning gaze while Damian clicks his tongue.

“Why haven’t we met him? And, wait, does Dick know about this?” Tim asks. 

Bruce lets out a deep sigh as he fiddles with the ring - the wedding ring. 

“Let’s go somewhere else for this.”

They all shuffle to one of their smaller living rooms. Duke sets up a voice call so Dick, who is back in Blüdhaven, doesn't have to miss out. Tim is on his own computer, no doubt researching everything he can find on Daniel Fenton. Or would he be Daniel Wayne? 

It’s Damian who breaks the silence.

“Father. Explain.”

The man presses his lips together as he stares down into his tea. Alfred squeezes his shoulder behind him. 

“The reason you haven’t met Danny is because he’s dead.” Bruce pauses while his kids pale. “Technically.”

Before either of them can question that, suddenly a young white haired boy appears, sitting on Bruce arm’s chair, eyebrow raised and wearing a black and white hazmat suit.

“Shouldn’t I be here for this?”

In an instant all of them sans Bruce and Alfred are on alert, Tim has a Batarang in hand, Jason one of his guns and Damian a knife poised to the unknown boy’s neck.

It’s Bruce who diffuses the situation.

“Danny?” Bruce sounds disbelieving and Damian twitches, knife still in hand. 

“In the flesh.” The boy does jazz hands, neck grazing the knife, but it doesn’t draw any blood. “Or ectoplasm. Whatever.”

“How wonderful of you to surprise us with your presence Master Danny,” Alfred says, tone slightly sarcastic and Damian finally steps back, eyebrows knitted together. 

Danny winces. 

“I would have warned you, but Clockwork just dropped me off, telling me that it’s finally time.”

“This is your husband?” Duke bursts out. 

The boy bows playfully.

“Danny Fenton-Wayne. King of the Infinite Realms. Half ghost and-” Suddenly he transforms, white rings traveling over his body and leaving behind a middle-aged black haired man. “-Half human.”

“GHOST?”

“HALF HUMAN?”

“KING OF THE INFINITE REALMS?”

“Thank fuck I thought Bruce was a pedophile for a moment.”

Everyone turns to stare at Duke.

“What? I just said what everyone thought,” the boy defends himself.

“Actually that would be ephebophilia,” Danny corrects. “Although he would still classify as a necrophile.” 

Bruce punches the man’s forearm, rolling his eyes with a fond look and Danny yelps, rubbing the spot.

“Hey! If anyone is allowed to joke about it, it’s me!” the man complains with a pout and Bruce shakes his head. 

“Another reason why you never met Danny is because – believe it or not – he’s the King of the Infinite Realms, which means he is quite busy.”

“So much paperwork,” Danny groans. “If I get Constantine’s ass, I swear to the Ancients that he’s gonna die. Half a decade lost because I had to bargain for his soul pieces!”

“After I returned to Gotham to become Batman, the Infinite Realms unfortunately fell into war following a coup attempt, leaving Danny to deal with the mess.”

“And Clockwork prohibited me from visiting the Gotham until a certain point, claiming that I would change the timeline too much with my influence,” Danny finishes for Bruce, all of Bruce’s kids watching with fascination how seamlessly they seem to fit together as the man leans his head against Bruce’s shoulder while Bruce runs a hand through the man’s black hair. “Considering I would have never let Bruce run around with child vigilantes, he’s probably right.”

“I forgot you know about that,” Bruce sighs.

“Jazz kept me updated,” Danny says smugly.

“That’s a break of patient confidentiality,” Bruce grumbles. 

“She may be your therapist, but she’s also my sister.”

“Mr. I-Rather-Chew-Nails-than-Talk-About-My-Feelings?“ Jason exclaims. “No way!”

“I have been vocal about the fact that I go to therapy.” Bruce frowns.

“I thought you were joking!”

“Where do you guys think I go every Sunday evening?” Bruce pinches the bridge of his nose.

“Justice League meeting?” 

“Golfing?”

Once again everyone stares at Duke and he flushes at the attention.

“I thought it’s a rich person thing!” 

Danny snorts.

“He got you there, darling.”

“When and how did you guys meet?” It’s the first time Dick actually speaks up, having observed everything – or as much as he could – through the web camera. 

“At a gala when both Bruce and I were teens,” Danny answers. “My godfather dragged me into it. At least one thing I can thank him for.”

Danny smiles while Bruce grunts in agreement. 

“The wedding?” Tim follows up.

Both Danny and Bruche pause to think.

“Did we do the civil registration in Paris or Las Vegas?” Danny turns to Bruce. “I can’t remember.”

“We were quite drunk,” Bruce agrees.

Danny snips his fingers like he remembers something, but then he shakes his head. He puts a hand to his chin, tiling his head. 

“Or was it Brazil?”

The rest blink at the pair before Danny shrugs with an apologetic smile.

“We had the real wedding in the Infinite Realms though,” Danny explains, “Once Bruce got finished with his training. The citizens wouldn’t have accepted it otherwise. Alfred would have taken pictures, but technology doesn’t work in the Infinite Realms.”

“Such a shame, it was quite a nice wedding,” Alfred affirms. 

“Alfred knew?!” is the consensus complaint. 

“Does Mother and Grandfather know about this?” Damian asks stiffly.

“Considering Ra’s used Bruce’s and your mother’s DNA to artificially create a baby despite knowing – he doesn’t care,” Danny says just a tad-bit too cheerfully. 

The revelation leaves everyone reeling. 

“Okay, now that all questions are answered-” Danny doesn’t give them time to inject. “Can we talk about the stinking elephant in the room?”

Bruce raises an eyebrow as Danny gestures to Jason. Jason almost would feel insulted if Danny didn’t sound so genuinely surprised that nobody else said or noticed something. 

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?!” Jason complains as he discreetly tries to sniff his armpits. Considering Tim’s and Dick’s snickering, he doesn’t succeed. 

“Your Ectoplasm reeks like-” Danny grimaces as he flails his arms. “Like you took a bath in spoiled eggs.”

Danny turns to Bruce with an angry look in his eyes.

“Especially you should have noticed, considering you are liminal! His core is completely malnourished.” Bruce winces. “Did you forget that I gave you a way to contact Frostbite?”

“Without the ambient ectoplasm you radiate my ability to see ectoplasmic entities and speak and read Ghost Speak slowly degraded over the years,” Bruce explains. “I wasn’t aware Jason had been a type of ectoplasmic entity.” 

“His eyes literally glow green when he’s angry!” Danny chides. “He returned from the dead for revenge. He’s clearly a Revenant. That’s Ghost 101!”

It’s amusing to see Bruce get scolded by someone else other than Alfred. Alone for that fact Jason has to admit that he begrudgingly likes Danny. 

“Alright-” Danny stands up and tugs on Jason’s arm. Bruce moves to follow him like second nature. “You are coming with me right this instant.”

Before anyone can stop them, Danny transforms back into his Ghost Form, Jason’s hand in one and Bruce in the other and steps through a glowing green portal, it vanishing shortly after. Silence follows.

“So well that just happened.”

This time everyone agrees with Duke. 

[mochasucculent]

I'm rewatching Arcane, and after my third time seeing season 1 I had a hot new reading on Viktor's scenes in episodes 6, 7, and 8.

Like a lot of other people, I felt it was weird and unsavory that Viktor - very close to death with a disease that affects his lungs - suddenly starts experimenting on his disabled leg. Those two things have nothing in common, save for the fact that the cause of both might have been the toxic fumes of the undercity, which could have resulted in Viktor being born disabled if his parents were also subject to those conditions.

So why does Viktor try to "fix" his leg when his main goal is to utilize the Hexcore to prolong and improve living conditions before he's gone?

Viktor in acts 2 and 3 is motivated to save himself long enough to make a difference in the world. Even though Hextech is revolutionary for Piltover, it hasn't reached who Viktor wanted to help this whole time, the disenfranchised in the undercity. In his mind, he hasn't done enough to change the world for the better, and he will be gone before he has the chance to do so.

After realizing the Hexcore responded to organic matter when it absorbed Viktor's blood, he experiments with plants, only to find that they wither and die soon after the Hexcore makes them grow.

This causes him to visit Singed once again for anything that could help him figure out how to use the Hexcore for magic that could save lives, one last shot at accomplishing his dreams.

Viktor parted ways with with him as a child upon seeing that Singed was willing to hurt Rio, his salamander test subject, in order to prolong her life. Viktor didn't understand that cost before, but he does now, being in the same position as Singed and Rio simultaneously, both the scientist trying to make a breakthrough and the subject he needs to save in order to do so.

Like Rio, Viktor is not his own end goal to his scientific pursuits. Singed is trying to save his daughter, Viktor is trying to help his people. He's his own means to an end, and is now willing to pay the cost of getting there.

Singed gives Viktor a variant of Shimmer to experiment with, the idea being that it will stabilize an organism while the Hexcore's magic affects it, hopefully allowing it to survive through the aggressive and sudden healing process.

Viktor injects the Shimmer into his leg, as well as carving runes into both his brace and thigh to channel the magic towards there before he offers the Hexcore his blood. It does Something to his leg which we don't see till the following episode.

The new reading I have of this scene is that the reason Viktor chose his leg specifically is not because he was trying to "fix" it, but because:

-He's not willing to put others' lives at risk and knows he's not long for this world, so the only test subject he's willing to use is himself

-He knows the organic matter he tests the Hexcore on might die

-Viktor's leg is a part of his body he's willing to lose if things go wrong and it rejects the transmutation (he also knows that he could just fully die then and there too and is willing to take that risk)

Obviously, the scenes involving Viktor's experimentation center his physical disabilities (shots of his back brace, the focus on his leg) and equate them with the disease that is literally killing him. The narrative lens shows us that Viktor "curing" himself begins with his disability, which sucks.

So while the boat scene undoubtedly is written to be "triumphant" because Viktor's leg is no longer disabled (shown by him dropping his crutch, the swelling music, the parallel to the scene where a child Viktor can't keep up with his toy boat), a different reading is that it's another experiment to him.

Viktor is stress testing the organic matter he infused with magic, and the scene is triumphant because he's realized his leg isn't deteriorating or weakening - it holds up. The mutation of the magic in his leg survived. It's a sign that maybe he can use the Hexcore on the rest of his body, keep himself alive long enough to do what he's always wanted to do: leave a legacy that changes the world for the better.

To me that's a much more in-character perspective for Viktor in these scenes than what is being said narratively through directing, framing, music, etc. Previously, Viktor had never expressed distaste for his disability as an adult, only commenting on it as a part of why he was isolated socially from Piltover. To me, him testing the Hexcore on his leg is merely an indifference to its current state, rather than a preference to have it changed. I don't even necessarily think it'd be a bad thing if Viktor did outright say "I would like to not be disabled", because I'm sure many other disabled people feel that way from time to time, but season 1 really does a poor job of pushing that framing of "curing" disability onto a character that did not express those perspectives himself at this point.

It gives off a big ol' "aw, poor Viktor, not only is he dying because of the political landscape that leaves disenfranchised people to suffer preventable diseases, but he's got a disabled leg too!" One of those things is much more problematic than the other lol.

Season 2 definitely hurtles Viktor very quickly into the Machine Herald perspective in which he thinks humans must evolve past ANY limitations of their original bodies, but to me season 1 Viktor just doesn't feel that way about himself. His primary concern has always been rooted in how to improve the lives of his people permanently, and it's only when he's actively dying that his secondary goal is to live long enough to see that happen.

It's something he drops completely after his experimentation results in Sky's death. He's immediately spiteful of the Hexcore and tries to destroy it - and himself.

Viktor now accepts that he will die before he's able to change the world the way he wanted, and hides the fact that he fucked with his body from everyone as he awaits his demise. "Fixing" his leg is not something he celebrates in and of itself, it's now only a reminder that the pursuit of his dream resulted in someone else's death.

The narrative does well in season 2 to frame Viktor's Glorious Evolution as a Bad Thing at least, and Jayce's speech at the end about Viktor never being broken is extremely valuable and important, but it's just weird to see him say this:

Cause to me now, that ain't what Viktor was trying to do at all! The writers may have retconned that to be the case, which is fine, whatever, but season 1 in isolation does not support that idea to me after this rewatch.

Overall, I think Arcane can have confusing directing sometimes that focuses on evoking feelings and themes rather than the richness of its characters, their dynamics, and the world they inhabit - to the detriment of all the above. In season 2, this resulted in a lot of scenes that felt emotionally unearned or muddy to me, like pretty much everything with Jinx, Vi, and Vander together rip.

It's for this same reason that I think it took me so long to really come to this reading of Viktor's season 1 scenes, because the directing bias REALLY wants to make you feel sorrow and hope alongside Viktor, even though it means he'll seem to randomly start equating his disabled leg to his illness. It just felt like a weird disparity to me until I watched these episodes again and was like "wait" lol.

Anyway peace and love on planet Earth I cannot stop thinking about Viktor Arcane

[dcxdpdabbles]

Hi Drabbles,

I wanted to ask if you still do prompts and if you do can you do the one below?

So Danny is the Ghost King and was friends with Bruce’s parents so he felt when they died. They could become ghosts but I’ll leave that up to you. But either way, Danny feels their death and assists Alfred when he can to raise Bruce. Due Danny’s visits and Bruce’s holidays in the infinite realms they (Bruce and Alfred) became very Liminal. So they have slight powers. One day, Danny comes over with Ellie and Dan (who are like siblings to Bruce as both we deaged/destabilised and Danny raised them) but Bruce forgets he never told the newer kids about them as Danny hasn’t come over in a while. Dick has meet them, Jason has heard about of them but the rest don’t know about them.

There were three strangers in their house. Usually, that would be okay, as multiple people came and went through Wayne Manor. It was customary to hire random crews to help set up for a Gala, or maybe some representatives from the various charities they helped would come over for dinner or a meeting.

Sometimes, a few of Bruce's old party buddies would pop up to get him to stop being a dad and return to his party boy days. They've all learned how to dance around visitors and hide their identities.

The thing was, these strangers were kept from the main parts of the manor. Their rooms, the sitting lounge, Bruce's Office, Damian's art studio, Jason's library, Tim's game room, Cass' dance studio, and Duke's music record room were all inaccessible.

Bruce would always ask if someone attempted to sneak away and stop them. There was a time when paparazzi disguised themselves as crew members—the three idiots even got jobs at the cleaning company—and tried to see if they could find a scandal on the children.

Brucie Wayne was seen crying hysterically on the news that night for accidentally pushing down a piano on them. He was trying to take it up to the Music Room as a surprise for Duke and wanted to avoid bothering the cleaners to have them help him. He had no idea the rope he was using to drag the grand piano up the stairs would have snapped and rolled backward onto the paparazzi, who had previously been taking pictures of Cass practicing without her knowledge.

People told him not to feel bad, as Bruce had cameras in the hallways of his home due to the last time someone broke in, and it was obviously not his fault. Some people said they deserved it, but Bruce wouldn't hear it. He paid for all their medical bills and gave them enough funds to tie them over for three weeks while they recovered.

Everyone shook their heads at poor Bruce. After all, the piano had fallen so far that the only real harm was that each of them got a few bruises and a broken arm, but that was all.

The point was that no one went up there that shouldn't be.

Yet here, standing in the middle of the Gaming room, were three strangers who were all aggressively battling it out on an old remaster shooting game.

"This is way harder than I remember," said the oldest one, who seemed to be Alfred's age.

"That's cause you always sucked at games," The woman taunted, but her words were countered by the other man shooting her down. "Hey!"

"Ha!" Barked the last man from where he was twisting his elbows, moving alongside his running character. "I'm unstoppable!"

Tim turns to his siblings, about to ask them how they want to play the dramatic scene where they would throw these people out, but his words catch in his mouth upon spotting Cass' expression.

Her narrowed, guarded eyes watched the three with the same amount of steel she had reserved for only the worst of their enemies. Whoever they are, they set off so many alarms in her. She knows they're dangerous.

At once, this minor inconvenience turned into a severe risk to his health. He snaps back towards the strangers, tense and ready for battle. Around him, the rest of his siblings are in similar stances, quickly signing how they would attack.

What kind of message were they sending if someone on Cass's danger scale was able to break in undetected and choose to play with their things? Was it a show of what they could do? Claim that they could beat the Bats without really trying?

The woman's eyes snap towards them so fast she could have been a speedster. He had even noticed her turning around; one second, she was back to them. The next, she was half-turned, staring at them. It looked like a poorly edited video. Everyone jumps, but all she does is smile. "Hey, it's Bruce's kids! Anyone want to call the winner?"

The older gentleman drops his control, turns around to fully face them, and gasps. He puts one hand on his chest and the other right above his mouth. "Look at them! There are so many! Alfred must be so excited to be a grandfather. Why aren't you two giving me grandbabies?"

"Ugh, not this again." The man sighs, continuing to play despite the fact that the other two are no longer paying attention.

"It's fine time you find someone nice." The other protested.

"I'm not nice," Countered the player. "I highly doubt someone would want to find me."

"That's not true, Dan. Most of my co-workers want your number, " the woman chirps. "Also, stay away from my office. It's gross."

"Aren't half of your office married?"

"That's why I said most, you idiot."

"Just for that, I'm going to your office dressed like a romance novel protagonist. The modern professor who goes home for the holidays and finds his humanity again. I'll have a trench coat and everything."

"How dare you. Then I'll strut by your friends in a bikini."

"That's mean. It's not Halloween; there is no need to scare them."

"I'll kill you-"

"Enough! Honestly, you two, you're in your late thirties. Stop bickering."

"No matter how old we are, Dani will always be my little sister."

"Aw. " Dani poses the same as the older man—hand on chest, hand over mouth—and looks close to tears. "I love you too, you big waste of space."

Cass creeps into the room, somehow vanishing from view as the three strangers chat. Tim is still determining where she is, but he figures she'll strike when she has the opening. He feels Duke palm the knife in his pocket, and Damian lowers himself in preparation to throw a ninja star.

Dan snaps his head up with a laugh. "Wow, you're fast. A little too loud, though. Make sure to flatline your heartbeat when sneaking up on people."

Cass drops down over him, but Dan only laughs. Her blade goes right through him, and her fast place kicks do nothing. She accidentally cuts the controller in half, stopping the man's laughter.

"No! I was winning!"

"Ha!" Dani barks, uncaring the ninja star that goes through her right shoulder and flies through her body to exit on the other side. "Dan forfeits!"

"How does this count as forfeiting-"

"Guys, the children are trying to kill us." The older man cuts in. He levels the Waynes with large, grandfatherly eyes. "Children, why are you trying to kill us?"

He says it the same way someone would as a child why they were putting things in their mouths.

"Not kill. Just harm," Duke responds, voice low and dangerous. " Why don't you answer our questions. How did you get in here?"

"Alfred, let us in. He said we could make ourselves at home while he stepped out." The old man frowned. "He went to get Bruce from his office."

"Who are you?" Tim demands next, filing away the claim that Alfred let them. The butler would have told them days in advance if someone would have access to the game room.

"I'm Danny Fenton. These are my children, Dani and Dan." Danny introduces, eyeing the crowd. "We're close friends of Alfred and Bruce."

"How-"

"It's so good to see you all again!" Dick cheers, running down the hallway and still in uniform. He jumps over his siblings in an impressive flip, not breaking stride to race into Danny's arms.

The older man holds them open seconds before they crash together. "Dick! Look how big you've gotten. Oh, it seems like only yesterday you were waist-high!"

"Ha ha ha, it has been a few years, Granpa Danny. Hi Auntie, Uncle! How are you?"

"Dickie, my sweet pea, look at you!" Dani squeals, leaning in for her own hug. She passes through a confused Cass like a ghost. "So handsome! And Tall! Who told you that you were allowed to grow taller than me?"

"Seeing that you are barely over five' six, everyone," Dan laughs, clapping Dick on the shoulder. "It's a shame we're twins, so I'm no taller."

"Um, Dick?" Tim calls as his brother breaks in fast-paced, reassurances that no matter how tall he is, he will always be open for hugs from the shorter adults. "Who are they?"

"Oh these are Fentons. Danny helped Alfred raise Bruce, so their like our extended family."

Tim blinks, wondering if this feeling of confusion is what his classmates mean whenever they joke about being at family functions and people who last saw them as babies walk up to them like they should know them. It's an odd feeling.

"Oh, them?" Jason says from behind the hallway. He peeks in casually, lowering his gun and raising the soda can in the other hand. "I heard about them but never met them. They have level purple clearance."

"Of course we do! We build that stupid cave for Bruce." Dan scoffs. "He got stuck down there as a kid and thought it was safe just to make an entire headquarters in a hole. Honestly."

"At least Bruce has a career and children," Danny says pointingly.

"Please don't compare me to my cousin." Dani groans. "It's exhausting."

Yeah, this is definitely extended family.

[hoaxghost]

Mouthwashing has been on the mind cause the intentionality and execution of its concepts make me dive further into it than I normally would otherwise. Haven't seen as much discussion on it but one aspect I super like is the theme of children/offspring. Heavy spoiler discussion

Like there are so many parallels you can draw between Daisuke and the unborn baby. The way Daisuke was a last minute addition to the team despite the ship only having enough resources for four members (and four cryosis pods), the way he's seemingly a burden upon everyone because he's a nepotism hire whose new to the whole job, and especially the way Jimmy's selfishness kills Daisuke in the end. Like there's a reason the fetus was located in the vent system along with all the hibiscus flowers you can find scattered throughout the section. Just as how a baby is loud, disruptive, and immature, so is Daisuke in contrasting against the rest of the team with continuous optimism, much more colourful (and childish) attire, and fondness for sweets. It's worth noting he's the only one to really mention his family back home.

It's also worth noting how both Daisuke and the unborn baby had to be 'put out of their misery' by their 'parents' (Swansea being a clear father figure and well Anya is self explanatory) despite their harm/existence being caused by Jimmy. It's the way Jimmy has convinced himself that responsibility means the 'burden' of ordering others to their deaths that makes it all the more gut wrenching. He didn't want to take on the responsibility of the unborn baby- so it led to him crashing the ship and dooming everyone to their deaths. He didn't want to go in the vents to visit the med bay so he used 'captains orders' on the one person in the crew whose too naive to refuse them. Also the whole thing with Swansea too- how the old man expresses near constant frustration throughout the game with him but then its revealed its more of a frustration with himself and his difficult relationship with taking responsibility with his family back home. How much easier it is to fall into hedonistic pessimistic alcoholism and involve his intern when faced with 99.99% guaranteed doom. At the end, it's too late for him to change anything. The only thing left he can do is to put Daisuke out of his misery cause he let his intoxication be manipulated by Jimmy. There are other facets to Daisuke's personality too I think are interesting to explore but those are more fitting for a different post... stares off into the fake sunset sky...

[amomentsescape]

hello! Are you ok?, I hope so ❤️ (by the way, your writing is wonderful)

I would like to make a request for Yandere Slashers with an S/O who is a mermaid, who usually kills people who dare to invade her lakes, and she kills these people by drowning.

(I'm sorry if there are any writing errors, English is not my first language, and I'm writing this using Google translate)

Slashers with Mermaid! Reader

Yandere! Slashers x Reader

Includes: Freddy, Michael, Jason, Thomas, Bubba, Brahms, Norman, Billy, Stu, Vincent, & Bo

A/N: I'm doing good, thank you <3 I hope you enjoy! (Also, I decided I'm going to remove Lester from the Slasher requests. I'm still very much open to writing for him when specified, but I feel like he doesn't quite fit in with all the other Slashers).

Freddy Krueger

Meeting you was quite literally the best thing to ever happen in his undead life

He likes to team up with you, constantly coming up with different ways you both can contribute to someone's death

You pull them under, and they suddenly wake up in Freddy's world

Your dynamic is pretty ideal too

Whenever you sleep, you can visit him

And he has no issues with popping into your waters just to say hi

He does this quite often, in fact

He is very aware you can take care of yourself, but he still gets worried

You're his

He doesn't trust anyone being around you

Even if your only intention is to kill them immediately

He understands that where you are now is your home, but that won't stop him from doing whatever he can to have you live in his world

He can create the perfect environment for you

Miles and miles of nothing but water if your heart desires

Which hopefully it does

Since he isn't willing to wait much longer

Michael Myers

He never thought creatures like you actually existed

But the moment he saw your strength and darkness, he was immediately drawn in against his better judgment

He visits more often then you think

He's always around, watching

You can feel eyes on you almost 90% of the day, but you never really know where it's coming from

He enjoys watching you swim and just relax

But he especially loves seeing you drag poor souls into the tide with you

There's something so twisted and yet magical about watching you kill

But this fascination is also paired with extreme jealousy

He hates seeing you touch other people

And he almost envies the way they get to be so close to you, even if it means their demise

He hopes to find a way to take you home with him for good one of these times

You told him you loved him, so you'd be happy as long as you're by his side

Right?

Jason Voorhees

Out of all places to meet the love of your life, this one seemed especially unfortunate for Jason

But his feelings for you were strong enough to overrule his fear

He'll sit by the shore with you, hearing you talk and sing old tunes he's never heard before

He loves listening to your stories about the world underneath the current

But this always leaves him with such a deep feeling of sadness

He wants a life where you both can live together and share those memories

But he knows that's nearly impossible

He starts spending more time by the water side than the camp, finding that irresponsible teens like to be by the beach even more than the forest

You lure them in with your beauty and your words, and Jason finishes the job

He'll let you kill too if you really wish to, but he doesn't like the idea of those types of people being so close to you

He barely gets to touch you, so why should they get what he so desperately wants instead?

Thomas Hewitt

In this desert like area of Texas, Thomas has to travel quite far to see you

But the one time he accidentally stumbled upon you, he was smitten

And you surprisingly didn't turn him into another victim like all the others

He was kind to you

And now, he brings you food and stops by as often as he possibly can

You've made him little necklaces out of bones and shells

He wears every single one of them

Your bond only gets stronger each time he comes to see you

But Thomas can only take so much

Why can't you be closer?

He knows the family would love you

And he could make you so happy

His bathtub is big enough for you, he's sure of it

He knows that you won't want to leave your own home for his, but he loves you and knows what will be best for you

He's just got to be patient

Bubba Sawyer

His own family had to go on a search for him after he disappeared for a couple days

But he just couldn't help it

You make him so happy, and the more time he spent with you, the more difficult it became to leave your side

He's tried to jump in a few times to be with you, but you always persuade him out of it

He doesn't know how to swim, and you don't want him to end up like everyone else

That's when he decided that the best option would be to create your very own pond in his backyard!

That way, you could be with each other, and he would never have to say goodbye again

He hasn't told you this idea yet, but he's sure you'd be happy with it

This would also keep you from needing to kill anyone else

You're too beautiful to get your hands dirty

And it's unfair that they get to join you in the water when you won't let him do the same

He can make you super happy with his family, he's sure of it

Brahms Heelshire

He hates this dynamic between you two

He wants you at home with him so you can take care of him, and he can keep you away from everyone else

No one should get to touch you or look at you besides him

He's actually tried to drag you out of the water before, but the prospect of accidentally killing you was enough to make him stop

He never knew he could envy a body of water as much as he does

It gets to hold you, touch you, and be with you at all times

He wants that too, so desperately

Because of you, he's gone from house dweller to nature enthusiast in just a matter of days

Even when you think he's at home, he's stalking around, watching you

He insists it's to keep you safe

In fact, you haven't had to drown anyone in quite a while

And you can thank Brahms for that

The moment he sees a single soul in the area, he drags them off and disposes of them before you even have a chance to see them

He wouldn't dare let you touch another being that isn't him

Norman Bates

It honestly took him a really long time to believe that you were even real

He didn't think mermaids or sirens actually existed, so seeing you for the first time made him pinch himself to make sure this wasn't some weird dream

He also took a while to trust you since he didn't want to fall victim to your treacherous waters

But once he realized you were genuine, he dove straight in all at once

He visits you whenever he can for however long he can muster

Someone needs to run the motel, but God he wishes he could be with you 24/7

He's "jokingly" brought up the idea of you staying at the motel in a pool he could install for you

He just wants to keep an eye on you at all times

He constantly dreams of finding a way to make you human so you two can truly be together

Until you have two feet like him, it will never be enough

Billy Loomis

Doesn't tell a single soul about you

Not even Stu

And it's not because he's embarrassed or wants to see other people

He's honestly just scared that others will either think he's insane or try to capture you

Visits you every day and makes sure to pack his swim trunks so he can join you in the water

Constantly admires you and wants to run his hands along your scales

He just thinks you're all around incredible

But he has this hidden level of anger towards the situation

He wants to walk around town with you, show you off

He wants you to join him on his sprees so you can see just how powerful he can be

And he hates the idea of not having eyes on you at all times

He knows you kill anyone who isn't him, but he doesn't want you getting that close to anyone in general

He spends his nights studying ways to get you to live with him

He'll find a way to have you all to himself, even if it ends up being the death of him

Stu Macher

He actually first met you while you were seducing some poor soul to their death

And Stu was immediately enamored

He comes to see you whenever he can

He sometimes spends the weekend camping out along the shore just so he can spend more time with you

He thinks you're beautiful of course, but he can't help but fantasize what it would be like if you were human like him

You two come from very different worlds, but there's nothing that could keep you away from him

He likes to bring up the idea of mermaids and mythical creatures in casual conversations with people

How they react to it will determine whether they make his hit list

He likes to bring you jewelry and pretty objects from his victims, showing you items that you've never seen before

He talks about how one of these days, he's going to have a house built on the shore so he can be with you

And if you argue against it, he will shut down

The pent up frustration of not getting to sleep next to you every night makes his killings more brutal and his fantasies all the more darker

Vincent Sinclair

Every time he comes to see you, he brings a new portrait or wax figure of you that he made

You flood his dreams and his mind 24/7

He honestly thinks he's under some sort of spell

He doesn't mind that you aren't human like him

He's always felt very different from everyone else, so it's nice for him to have someone he relates to

But his jealousy constantly gets the better of him

Anytime you tell him of some poor soul you drowned, he can't help but feel his blood boil

Even if it ends in their death, he hates the idea of you flirting or seducing these people

The only one who should be receiving that attention is him

Barely sleeps at night

He has snuck to the shore countless time without your knowledge, just watching you and making sure your stories line up with what he observes

Is overall obsessed even more than you know

Bo Sinclair

If anyone saw you together, it would be enough to make them blush

The way you two can constantly flirt back and forth without any hesitation is otherworldly

You could have sworn he must have been a creature like you in a past life

He's so touchy when he's with you, not afraid to get his clothes wet in an effort to just be closer to you

He truly makes you feel accepted as you are and with where you live

But little do you know of his darker nature

He stalks the shore and kills off anyone that trespasses before you even have a chance to get to them

He doesn't need you looking at anyone but him

And he's already been renovating an old abandoned pool in Ambrose for you

You're going to finally be living with him like he's always wanted

You don't know this yet, but he's sure you'll be happy with the idea

It will be a great surprise

[anchovies-4-dinner]

’I can’t stop cheating on my loving boyfriends’ simulator

Tag so dry I had to make a game to cope (ಥ_ಥ)

You're a Ticket Agent for the Astral Express. Despite the lively co-workers/customers, your life was very mundane, until one day two regulars confess their love to you.

You jump on the chance to live your own drama and accept them both. However, upon discovering their true natures, the genre shifts to one of survival as this secret could mean life or death.

What the fuck did you get yourself into?

Images containing blood and glitches below, implications of suicide

Do you know how much trouble gifs give me? Half the day was my app failing to export 💀

Backstories

Argenti’s family was poor and on the verge of being evicted, so you could understand their surprise when a stranger offered them a deal:

Join their religion in exchange for a life of comfort.

After much deliberation and little to lose they agreed. It was quickly discovered that the group was a cult who believed Argenti to be a reincarnation of Idrilla due to his beauty. For the remainder of his childhood, the child was spoiled but devoid of physical contact.

It wasn't until the first sacrifice that his parents realised what danger they were in.

The family tried to escape but were caught. Before Argenti's eyes, his parents were torn apart by the enraged cultists - accidently soaking him with 'impurity'. What followed... he couldn't remember. But since then, Idrilla has been visiting him in his sleep.

On his 15th birthday, the cult was busted by police due to members embezzling money from work. The majority were sent to prison, leaving Argenti to be adopted by a martial artist.

He completed intensive therapy and no longer thinks himself a deity; rather, unbeknownst to others, he had been searching for Idrilla.

And now, he's finally found his God - even if you insist otherwise.

Sunday thought his family was happy. Even when his Mother would enter catatonic slumps, he thought it was due to her 'illness'.

It wasn't until Robin's birth that he realised the truth; His Mother had an outburst and almost choked him to death, screaming how 'they ruined her life'. Since then, he's tried his best to please her to no avail.

His Father reassured him that she wasn't herself, yet from all the years of her smiling, Sunday could tell this was her true face. The Mother no longer pretended, even when Robin cried from neglect and her husband drowned her in luxury.

There were times he questioned if his Father, for all his good intentions, was doing anything right. When he brought this up, the man merely stated that this was love - and when you are truly taken, you should never let go.

It was a Sunday when his Mother returned to 'normal'. The family dared to believe everything was fine, and eventually, she was granted more freedom.

Freedom that took his Mother away.

Sunday still recalls what his Father told him that day as her coffin lowered into the ground. He remembers it every time you walk away from him.

No, he won't be anything like his Father. He'll be better.

Tips

Argenti: Play along with the Idrilla facade and you'll be fine. Unlike Sunday, he believes what he is doing is right, so don't waste your breath trying to reason with him. It's pretty hard to get onto his bad side unless you shatter his delusions - in which case, to him, everything is on the table.

Sunday: Interacting with him is like navigating a minefield in the dark. You never know what he's truly thinking until it's too late, however, if you lay low and pretend to be agreeable you may buy enough time to escape. Don't let it run on for too long, and keep your documents hidden.

Do not break up with them. That is quite literally the worst thing you could do. And God forbid they find out about each other.

Endings

These are just examples. More may be added later on

Mr Worldwide [Good]: Successfully change your identity and leave the country without telling anyone

I Love Democracy [Bad]: Aggravate both Sunday and Argenti so bad they become friends, join forces, and 'share' you (see Extras)

I Like Trains [Neutral]: Provoke Sunday and let him chase you on the train tracks. Get his leg stuck and watch the Astral Express run him over (This does not save you from Argenti)

Eat the Rich [Good]: Give Sunday an overdose and kill him without incriminating yourself. Meet Robin at the funeral and successfully evade her suspicion (do not get her interested in you). Get Argenti admitted to an asylum indefinitely. Profit

Godzilla or King Kong? [Good]: Instigate Sunday and Argenti's conflict without incriminating yourself and get them to kill each other

Hasta la Vista, Baby [Bad]: Tell Argenti about Sunday. Let him burn Sunday's house down with Gopher inside. Drain Sunday's money. Confess your involvement to Sunday about his demise over text. Condemn Argenti over text and push him to the brink. Wait for either of them to kill you (randomised) (see Extras)

Extras

The second is a placeholder CG

When is this game coming out? NEVER

[bet-on-me-13]

Captive AU

So, the GIW has been around for a while.

Ghosts have been a problem for centuries, the US Government wouldn't have waited until the 21st Century to figure out a way to deal with them, so the GIW has been around for years. And the general Public knows about them, it's a common household name like the FBI or the CIA. They are simply seen as another government organization doing its job, no need to care about the Ghosts they capture, they're Non-Sentient anyways.

Over the years of their existence, they have acquired their own little prison full of Ghosts. And among that collection of Ghosts, 4 stand out.

Because they are somehow Ghost-Human Hybrids.

The first was captured a while before the others. A College Student studying Ectology had been admitted to the Hospital after a Lab Accident, where he had been diagnosed with an, as of yet, unknown and incurable Disease. He had Green Boils popping up all over his Face, and he was in excruciating Pain.

The GIW had sent a team to investigate, and they had found that the College Student was slowly transforming into some type of abomination. He was still partially human, but he was also partially a Ghost. They had him declared Dead and shipped him off to a Blacksite Facility to be experimented on.

...

The Second One came about 10 years later. Coincidentally, it was very similar circumstances. The very same pair of scientists who had been acquainted with their previous subject had just admitted their 5 Yr old son into a local Hospital. He had been in a Lab Accident that had stopped his Heart for a few minutes, and out of curiosity the GIW had sent a Team to investigate.

And what did they find, but a perfect recreation of their favorite Test Subject.

They declared the Child Dead, and sent him off to the same Facility they kept the other one in.

...

The 3rd of the Hybrids was actually created in a GIW Lab, 3 Years Later. In an experiment to see if the Hybrids condition could be recreated, a GIW Scientist had taken the DNA of the 2 existing Hybrids and had cloned them.

Of the Test Batch of 15, only 1 Subject survived. It was deemed only a Partial Success, because while they did manage to create a New Hybrid, it was Unstable and prone to melting if overexerted.

They placed it in the same Containment Unit as the other 2, and left it at that. No more Cloning Experiments had been conducted afterwards since the project was deemed an overall Failure.

...

The 4th and Final Hybrid was found in Gotham City of all places, 2 years later.

A GIW Operative had been visiting Family when their Van's Ecto-Detector had gone off. Soon after that they found the Subject in an Alleyway, seemingly disoriented from its recent awakening.

DNA testing had revealed the Hybrid to be deceased Jason Peter Todd, the adopted Son of Bruce Wayne who had been killed 6 Months Prior while studying in Ethiopia. By the Scientists Best Guess, an Anomoly in Space-Time had caused a Natural Portal to open right on top of the Teenagers Corpse, fusing his Deceased Body and nearly formed Ghost into One.

They shipped the Teen off to the Blacksite, and placed him in the same Containment Unit as the others.

...

So now the GIW have 4 Hybrids, all created from different circumstances, all different ages.

One was formed from the Slow Death of a College Age Student, after a Lab Accident had flooded his system with Pure Ectoplasm.

One was form from the Instant Death of a 5 yr old Boy, after a Lab Accident had flooded his Body with a dimensions worth of Ectoplasm.

One was created in a GIW Lab in a Cloning Experiment. She was created to be 3 Yrs Old upon Birth, and was Unstable as a Result.

One was created from the Fusion of a Long Dead Teenage Corpse and a nearly formed Ghost, in a random Space Time Event that forced both together.

...

All the Halfas are basically a Family together. Vlad is the oldest, at around 35, and takes the Paternal Role.

Danny and Ellie are the Kids, and are 10 and 5 respectively.

Jason is the Oldest Child, and takes his Older Brother role very seriously. He is 15 when he is brought in.

They all take care of eachother, through all the experiments and tests the GIW force them through.

One of the most common experiments is to have them battle the other Ghosts in Captivity. Although that is just a thinly veiled dog fighting ring that the GIW scientists like to Bet on. Sometimes they are put up against eachother, but they refuse to fight until they are electrocuted into submission.

They were also forced to Push all of their Powers to their Limits every day, just so the Scientist can see how they are growing. This had drained them, since they only got the absolute minimum amount of Ecto to survive off of, and they were forced to use it all up every day.

This goes on for 3 more years.

...

Until the day when the GIW messed up.

During one of their Constant Dog Fights, they had made the mistake of putting two Electricity Core Ghosts against eachother. The resulting battle had created an Electromagnetic Wave that fried all systems in the entire Facility.

It was a Disaster. Dozens of Scientists were killed when the Door Locks failed to contain the captive Ghosts, and even more were injured when a few of the Ghosts managed to break into the Armory on Base.

It was only hours after the whole ordeal was Finally quelled that they realized that their most Valuable Test Subjects were missing.

Vlad, Danny, Jason, and Ellie had taken the chance to run away during the commotion. Vlad had unfortunately been injured during the escape, and Ellie had been forced to use her powers causing her to destabilize a little, but all in all they had managed to escape on one piece.

But now they were fugitives on the run from the Government, with an injured adult and a sick child.

Jason had an Idea though. While he didn't have very clear memories of his life, a side effect of his late resurrection, he did remember that he used to live in Gotham. And they all remember researchers grumbling about how their scanners always malfunction when they passed nearby Gotham.

So, Jason led his little Family to the most Familiar place in the city he could think of.

Crime Alley.

[wolvisms]

BLOOM ─── PETER PARKER

summary: peter visits your flower shop, and needs some help picking out the perfect bouquet. you later find out who he’s delivering them to.

pairing: tasm!peter parker x florist!reader

warnings: sight angst, crying, casual hand-holding, talk about death and grief, very very brief harry potter references (not relevant to the plot whatsoever so dw), a lot of very well-deserved cutesy adorable fluff !!!!!

word count: 3.2k

note: this is one of my favourite things i’ve ever written. hope u like it & please let me know if u do! <3

∘₊✧──────✧₊∘

Your family’s flower shop is honestly one of your favourite places to be. Work is never a bore; you usually have customers constantly coming in and out of the store, and meeting new people never fails to put a smile on your face.

Even on days where it’s empty, you so graciously take laps around the shop, purely because it makes you happy. Seeing the hundreds of different types of flowers, mentally ticking off every single colour of the rainbow as you speed-walk through the store has become one of your most favoured pastimes.

That’s exactly what you’re doing today. Though, admittedly, you aren’t feeling very enthusiastic for any customers to walk through the front door. You’re exhausted, and the only reason you’re frantically taking laps around the shop is that you’re desperate to stay awake. Eyelids incredibly heavy, you’re certain that you’ll fall asleep if you stop moving at any given time.

So, when you hear the bell at the front door chime whilst on your fifth lap, saying you’re a little annoyed would be an understatement.

“Hello?”

You groan lightly, before immediately plastering a fake smile onto your face and emerging speedily from the corner of the shop.

As your eyes fall upon a relatively tall, brunette guy who looks around your age, your smile widens. “Hey, how can I help?”

He sends you a soft smile in return, glancing around the shop quickly. “I wanted to buy a bouquet, but I might need help choosing, since there seems to be... a lot.”

You snort out a laugh, your side leaning against the counter. “A big selection, I know,” you hum, absentmindedly fiddling with a loose string hanging from your apron. “No worries, I can help you.”

“Great! Thank you—” his eyes narrow, head bending down slightly to read the name on your badge, “—Y/N.”

You stand upright, a now-legitimate grin forming on your face. “You’re welcome...” your voice trails off, silently urging him to tell you his name.

“Oh,” he clears his throat, “Peter.”

Brow perked up in amusement, your arms cross over your chest, weight shifting onto your left leg. “Peter? Like, um... like Peter Pettigrew?”

His face scrunches up a little. “Ha-ha,” he feigns a laugh, earning a proud smirk from you. “Yeah, I guess so. But nobody’s ever called me Peter Pettigrew before.”

A hint of amusement crosses your face, before you whirl on your heel to walk further into the shop. “Well, it’s an honour to be the first one to do so. Now, would you like to create your own bouquet, or choose from the ones we’ve already assembled?”

Peter follows you unwittingly, his eyes flickering around the store as he tries to keep up. “I think the bouquets here are beautiful.”

You hum in agreement. “So, you’d like to pick one?”

“Yeah.”

You stop in your tracks at what you believe is the best aisle, in which there’s the widest variety of bouquets in the shop.

“Alright then, Peter Pettigrew, what kinda flowers are you looking for?” You gesture towards the assortment of flowers displayed in front of you both.

Peter does a double-take in your direction, shaking his head at your Harry Potter references, but he lets out a genuine chuckle fall from his lips nonetheless. “Uh, I don’t really know. That’s kinda what I need help with.”

“Right.” You place your hands on your hips, eyes narrowing in thought for a moment. “Okay, I’m gonna need some details to figure out what they’d like. Who���s the lucky lady?”

Peter seems a little shocked by your question. “Oh, uh... not really a lucky lady—”

“Oh, my apologies. Lucky man?”

“No, no, it’s no one like that,” Peter mumbles, scratching the back of his neck awkwardly. “It’s for a... family member.”

With a reluctant nod of the head, your lips purse together. “Got it. What’s their favourite colour?”

“Uh...” he hesitates, his desperate, brown eyes meeting yours again.

Your eyes widen, urging him to answer the question. “Well?”

“I–I don’t remember.” He gapes at his own words, mentally scolding himself for forgetting such a detail.

“Oh, come on, Peter.” You flail your arms jokingly, but your face immediately falls when you notice the frown upon his face. He’s genuinely upset, and you can’t help but feel guilty for making him feel that way. You swallow thickly, before feigning a cheerful voice, “You know what? That’s not even important.”

“It is—”

“It’s not,” you say firmly, holding out your hand. His eyes flicker between your hand and your face, and you send him a comforting smile. “We’ll figure something out.”

Peter sighs gently, returning the smile before contently slipping his hand into yours.

You haul him around the store, and Peter follows behind you like a puppy on a leash. When you stop at the rose section, you glance at him with your eyebrows raised in question, silently asking if he liked them.

To your dismay, Peter shakes his head. “Too red,” he murmurs. Humming in agreement, you point at the bouquet of white roses that are sat just above the red ones, but once again, he shakes his head. “Too white.”

You roll your eyes, catching onto what he’s hinting at. “No roses, then?”

Peter shakes his head once more, a grin pulling at the corners of his lips. “No roses,” he confirms.

You resume tugging him by the arm until you arrive at the next section of the store: the tulips section. “You like these?” you suggest.

Peter’s eyes narrow in thought, pouting slightly. “Maybe. I think I should look around the rest of the shop before making my decision, though.”

“Good idea.”

So, the pair of you pace the shop hand-in-hand, searching high and low for the perfect bouquet. Granted, Peter is rather difficult to satisfy; it seems like he doesn’t like any of the flowers at all.

Just as you approach the end of your second lap around the shop, you sigh in exasperation, practically dragging him at this point. “Peter, we’ve gone around the whole store twice now. There must be at least something that you like—”

“Wait!” He tugs at your hand from behind, causing you to yelp as you stagger backwards a few steps and fall onto him. He instinctively releases your hand, his own hands shooting forward to catch you, grabbing your waist to hold you upright. “Oh, my God, a–are you okay?” he asks, worry lacing his tone as he scans your body up and down quickly.

Heat creeps onto your cheeks, feeling his intense gaze lingering on you. “I’m fine. Don’t do that again!”

“Sorry,” he says with a small grin.

You laugh a little in disbelief, shaking your head gently. “It’s okay. Why’d you stop me?”

His head jerks in the direction of an incredibly colourful bouquet of flowers in front of you. “I like those,” he announces. “Nice variety of flowers and the colours are pretty.”

You reach forward to grab it. “Good choice,” you muse, but as your eyes trail the shop shortly after, you notice something. “Peter...”

“Yeah?”

“We’re back where we started!” You scowl at him, shoving him in his side jokingly and causing him to stumble the tiniest amount, but he’s laughing in amusement all the same. “Couldn’t you decide that you liked this one before we went around the entire store?”

“Oh, would you look at that? You’re right!” A cheeky smirk is across Peter’s face, as he takes the flowers from your grasp, his fingers brushing against yours in doing so. “Sorry, Y/N.”

“It’s fine,” you sigh playfully. Closing the gap between you both, you take a couple of steps closer and reach out, fiddling with and adjusting the flowers he’s holding. When you glance up at his face, you notice that he’s already watching you intently. Not in a weird way at all, but in a way that makes you feel relaxed under his gaze. “You made my prolonged shift go by a little faster.”

✧₊∘

There’s something rather sinister about the cemetery that you pass every time you walk home from the flower shop. It’s always completely dark and deserted, like there’s a bleak, gloomy cloud constantly hovering over it, causing everyone to avoid it at all costs — or at least just look away. The mere sight of it is disturbing enough to make your spine tingle.

But today is different. As you walk past the dreaded cemetery, you spot a batch of elegant, colourful flowers laying on the ground, next to the familiar silhouette of a man sitting near a gravestone, isolated from everyone and everything else.

Peter.

Almost immediately, your heart shatters into pieces, realising that he bought flowers earlier to lay on someone’s grave.

You speed-walk over to him, and he turns around when he hears your footsteps, his emotion-filled eyes widening in shock.

“Y/N?”

“Peter,” you greet with a singular nod of the head. He gapes at you slightly, struggling to find the words to express his disbelief of seeing you there, but you ignore it, collapsing onto the ground and sitting cross-legged next to him. “Are you okay?”

“Y–Yeah. Yeah, I'm fine,” he mumbles, his gaze averting back to the gravestone in front of you both. The bouquet that you had perfectly curated just this morning is laying right beside it, almost as if Peter’s trying to use the flowers to bring the soulless rock to life.

Eyes flickering over the gravestone, you read the name written on it in your head.

Mary Parker.

A silence lapses around you and Peter for a while, both of you waiting for the other one to start a conversation. He’s playing with his fingers awkwardly.

Desperate to rid yourselves of the uncomfortable silence, you swallow thickly. “Are you okay?” you ask again, your mind seemingly unable to form any other words or sentences to say.

A humoured puff releases from Peter’s nose when it clicks in his head that you’ve asked the same question again. His eyes heave from the gravestone to your face, to which you return the stare. “Yeah, I’m okay, Y/N,” he assures you with a soft smile.

You sigh, pursing your lips. “You don’t have to lie to me, Peter.”

His eyebrows raise. He seems to be startled by your accusatory tone. “W–What?”

“You’re not okay. And that’s okay.”

Peter’s hand raises to his chin, scratching it gently. He huffs as his eyes fall shut, and in this moment, he looks peaceful. No emotion — not happy, nor sad — just at peace.

“She was my mother,” he begins, his voice low, and eyes remaining shut as he speaks.

Your lips cease movement for a moment, pain clawing into your heart. He’s only said four words, but those words cut you deep. Licking your dry lips, you swallow thickly. “You don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to.”

“No, I want to,” he reassures, his eyelids fluttering open to look at you once again. Your own head turns to meet his painful stare and you notice his eyes glistening elegantly. Whether it’s the moonlight’s reflection, or his eyes glossing over with tears, you can’t tell. “I never really talk about her. I don’t know why. I should — she was an incredible person and the best mom I could’ve ever asked for.”

You nod at him comfortingly, offering him a weak smile. “I’m sure she was.”

He cracks a small smile in return, his body relaxing as he immediately feels content in your presence. Releasing a shaky breath, he continues, “She passed away when I was younger. Today’s her death anniversary.”

His voice is wavering with so much emotion. He’s crying. And you can’t help but feel for him; his words churn the upset that’s already rushing through your body, and your eyes begin to brim with tears. “Peter, I— I’m so sorry for your loss.”

“Oh, my God! Don’t cry, Y/N!” he laughs, using his thumb and forefinger to gently dab at the corners of his eyes.

You release a nervous chuckle, shaking your head. “Sorry,” you breathe with a small sniffle, pulling the sleeve of your sweatshirt to wipe the few tears that leaked from your own eyes.

Peter sighs, smile still lingering on his lips. “Don’t be sorry.”

Without giving you a chance to reply, he lays down on the ground, causing you to shoot him a look of pure confusion. He pats the ground next to him, encouraging you to do the same.

You frown. “You want me to lay on the ground?”

He looks at you hopefully. “Please?”

You groan lightheartedly, but it’s not long before you give in and shuffle to lay down next to him. Head against the cold, hard ground, you exhale exaggeratedly, flailing your arms a little. “Now what?”

“We’re stargazing, Y/N,” Peter says, his voice warm and soft, it makes you feel cosy. You love stargazing. He points at the sky, and your eyes visibly trail up his arm until you’re looking at the star he’s pointing at. It’s difficult to miss. “You see that star?” Peter asks, and you nod in response. “You know what it’s called?”

“Sirius,” you reply, biting back a grin as you add quietly, “…Black.”

He retreats his arm, glancing in your direction as he releases an intrigued scoff. “Okay, first of all, I knew you’d make a Harry Potter reference. Secondly, I’m impressed. How’d you know that?”

Your lip curls in amusement. “I always loved the stars as a kid. I did way more research than I should’ve done at that age,” you admit, biting your bottom lip to hold back a laugh at the bittersweet memory.

Peter’s heart is alight; learning information like this about people is something he finds so special and intimate. “I loved the stars as a kid, too,” he chirped. “Still do, even.”

Your face breaks out into a smile as you admire the sky; a sheet perfectly speckled with twinkling paint that would make any person stare in awe. “Me too. They’re mesmerising.”

Peter nods, before he’s pointing at the same star again. “That star, Sirius? Known as the brightest star in the sky, right?” You hum in agreement, and he continues, “Ever since I was a kid, my aunt always told me that Mom will always be with me. Uh... ‘in the stars’, as she likes to say.”

“And you think you see her in Sirius?” you ask, genuinely curious.

“I swear, Y/N, I see her in that star every night. She’s there, I know she is.”

A pearly grin etches across your face. “Really?”

“Yeah!” he replies with enthusiasm. Soon after, however, he seems to be in thought momentarily, before he facepalms with a gentle groan. “Oh, my God... you probably think I’m crazy—”

“I don’t,” you’re quick to dismiss his accusations. “I believe you, Peter.”

He turns to you, looking at you in question, “Y–You do?”

“Of course, I do.”

“Thank God.” Peter huffs in relief, jokingly placing a hand on his chest. “The last person I told said that I was crazy.” He chuckles lightly at the memory.

The dirt beneath you is uncomfortable, but you roll over to face him, elbows digging into the ground as your hand helps prop your head up. “Well, I don’t,” you announce, stealing a quick glance at the name carved into the gravestone. “Mary Parker watches down on you every day. You better make her proud!”

“I’m trying!” Peter laughs, but his eyes soon lock with yours when he stares up at you. In this moment, you could swear that even under the extreme luminescence of the full moon and stars tonight, you see his brown irises turn darker. “Thank you, Y/N.”

Your brows pinch together in confusion. “For what?”

He doesn’t answer your question. He stands up, patting his hands down his trousers and shaking himself clean of any dirt that’s clung onto him.

His hand then darts forward and you take it with no hesitation, and much to your surprise, he pulls you up effortlessly. You let out a little yelp at how fast he manages to heave up your body using just your arm, slightly taken aback by it, and you don’t miss the cocky grin on his face.

The pair of you begin to slowly walk to the cemetery’s exit, hands in your pockets as a comfortable silence lapses around you both.

“Thank you for believing me,” Peter finally responds, all of a sudden. “And for being there for me tonight.”

You can practically feel your heart swell at his words, but your exterior refuses to show that — simply shrugging. “Yeah, well, I wasn’t just gonna leave you there alone.”

“I was literally a stranger to you yesterday,” Peter reminds you, and you nod in confirmation, making it crystal clear that you’re also aware of the stated fact. “You didn’t need to stay with me.”

Just as your lips part to reply, Peter’s hand reaches out to your chest to stop you in your tracks, the sudden contact causing you to flinch a little. “That being said,” Peter speaks again, clearing his throat awkwardly, “I know we only met a couple of hours ago, but I just wanted to know if you— uh...”

His voice trails off and you perk up a brow at him amusingly. “If I what?”

“Y’know…” Peter does weird hand motions as if you’d understand what he’s trying to imply with just gestures.

“Nope. No, I don’t,” you tease, grinning sardonically. Although, you’re certain you do — you’re just pushing him to ask the question.

He sulks, head falling into his palms in embarrassment. “I’m not good at this, you know.”

You raise your hands in your defence, laughing. “Sorry, I can’t read minds.”

Peter groans as he looks up at you again, his brown eyes boring into yours desperately. “Okay, fine.” He inhales deeply, fixing his posture, and suddenly— “Would you wanna hang out some time?” His words nearly jumble together with the way he blurts it out all at once.

You have to bite the insides of your cheek to refrain from giggling. “I thought you’d never ask.”

“Oh, thank God.” Peter huffs, a relieved scoff falling from his lips. His arms reach out as if to hug you, but he instantly recoils, eyes widening slightly. “I’m— is it okay if I hug you?”

Your face softens; the fact that he’s so considerate makes you feel pleasant all over. Without saying anything, your arms wrap around him affectionately, a warm smile arranging on your lips.

Peter flinches the slightest bit, but he’s quick to adjust to your embrace, his lightly toned arms perfectly cloaking your frame. He sighs into the crook of your neck, releasing a shaky laugh. “I guess that’s a yes.”

∘₊✧──────✧₊∘

[orphicsun]

Bury Me At Makeout Creek (E.W)

content: short blurb, jackson ellie (cannon divergent), angst, grieving, slight mention of ellie's eating issues, mentions of joel's death.

(-)

From the tips of your teeth to the root of your hair, you’re linked together, sewn up like a Raggedy Ann. It’s nothing new, but you still pick apart yourself. You can’t help it. You’d think after years of looking at yourself through the motioned creek reflection, it’d be clear to you who you are as a person. 

Sitting upon the grass with your feet in the stream, it’s lost on you. You look up to the trees, but all you can see is the others. Jesse has a sense of humor you find comfort in, but the true safety is his tendency for responsibility and order. Dina not so much, but you love her anyway. She loves unconditionally, and you’ll always need that.

It isn’t just when they’re in your presence, but hours that go by all alone that you think of them. You can’t think of yourself; if you dwell too much on the cartilage distinguishing your nose, squint your eyes to make out the size of your pupils, you’ll feel your mind simply mix each feature together into an uncertain mix of paint-water grey. You’ll never separate anything from yourself again. 

“Thinking again?” Ellie will separate you, though. You give her eyes a small jolt at first, startled by her sudden approach next to you. 

You’ve grown used to her visits to this same creek, to you. It would make no sense weeks ago, but what good does sense make now? Just a mutual friend is Ellie, but the loss of Joel leaves her all odd to perception. She does things she normally wouldn’t do. 

You’re spooked like a horse and something within her wants to snicker, but the thought of letting loose anything but quiet conversation makes her stomach churn with nausea, an empty feeling when your stomach is so light already. 

You lay back against the grass, the back of your legs flush with wet sand. Ellie remains upright. “Do you ever think about what I look like?” You ask, mostly hushed and minorly curious. 

She scoffs, but you don’t flinch at the usually impolite sound. “I don’t care about that. Why would I care about any of that bullshit?” 

You think of Ellie’s words as so interesting to the ears to pick up on–always barking and loud in their content, but her volume is quiet. You’re one for feelings, so despite the lack of closeness between the two of you, all you’ve felt is a concern bubble deep inside. She hasn’t always been this quiet. 

You don’t know why Ellie talks to you all of a sudden. Simply writing it off as an oddity for grieving is easy, though. Still, you like to wonder. You’re always stuck in your thoughts, but that is another reason to question magnetism. You’re worryful, absorbed, sensitive. She has always been a false stoic, so maybe before the incident, you wouldn’t have questioned it. Now, she goes about Jackson as though she feels nothing, a shut-down vessel frozen from the moment he lost his breath. 

You shrug, though. “People care about looks. It means a lot to them.” 

“Do you?” 

You shake your head; she nods. “Right. Neither do I.” 

You want to let it go, but you can’t. You can’t stop yourself from pulling apart each piece of you, even if it’s a trifle in a world in which creatures would happily pull you apart for you. “I just wish I liked myself.” 

Ellie pulls miniscule blades of grass from the ground below the both of you. “You told me last week you don’t know yourself, though,” she murmurs quietly. “How can you dislike something you don’t understand?” 

That makes you want to laugh. She is here, quietly comforting you in your ridiculous, self-made problems, all the while grieving her father figure. The thought of your own previous words, your own initiation into this arbitrary conversation rings you silent. 

Ellie sighs. “C’mon, don’t do that. I don’t mind it, you know.” 

You know that, too. You’ve accidentally forced it past her lips–she doesn’t mind it. In fact, it distracts her from the bloody sights she would think of instead. You save her, even with the stupidity of your own issues. Still, guilt gnaws at you. 

“Can I at least hug you?” You break your silence with a quiet chirp. Touch is something you’re unsure of with Ellie. Should you, should you not? Sometimes when you touch, you can feel the stiffness in her body. You easily pull away and talk instead. Other times, she holds you tightly as if you’ll slip between her fingers like sand. 

This time, she nods and adjusts her posture. You rise and meet her welcoming arms halfway. Hugs with her are always nice. The general idea of a hug is awkward and distant, leaving you with doubt, but Ellie holds you rather than a mutual embrace. 

She mumbles something quiet and unintelligible against your shirt but you won’t ignore her, so you nod along. You can feel a few tears seep through the fabric and onto your skin, and you think you know Ellie well enough, but she is already pulling away and standing up to leave you again. 

It’s not that you don’t know her, though. It’s just the situation. That fact is comforting.

taglist: @femme-tobe, @sulliefimmie, @klallx, @elliescoochieeater, @mytaping, @pryncess123, @therealhexstrap, @piercedome, @violetszn, @saturnhas82moons, @myfabulousnesshasarrived, @sawaagyapong, @prettyinpink69, @usuck, @s7nburn, @hellokittyfeenie, @ssijht, @starberr1, @ruevu, @ruelezz, @littlefallenangel111, @prwttiestbunny, @eriiwaiii2, @starrycherie, @human-cacti, @tphmnv, @hotpinkskitties, @mars4hellokitty, @jhyoos, @elliesngirl, @moonfloweredprincess, @morticeras, @l0veylace, @abbysmeatrider, @ferxanda, @vahnilla, @frillynpinkprincess, @plasticl0v3r, @g4ys0n, @bewareofmyglock, @witzs, @vixxxen, @aceywaycy, @abbysbutch, @evoscancelled, @x0x0xkimara, @aviixol want to be tagged? click here!

[trulyumai]

Protector of his Woman

Pairing: Messmer the Impaler x Reader

Synopsis: Leaving the kingdom was a choice, but leaving his wife? Out of the question.

Warnings: Talk of violence/Death.

Enjoy!

“Does thou take me for a fool?” 

The pale flame stood tall, beside him his wife gripped onto the forearm placed in front of her frame. She stood just behind said man, looking away from the escalating scene. Too distracted by the swiveling trees and smell of pine wafting through the air. 

“Of course not, your grace! Its, well, your mother thought it best-”

“My mother disgraces me with such a request, yet is unfit to be present?” 

The golden soldier gulped, a bead of sweat dripped down the side of his brow, illuminating his face with a light sheen. 

“N-no, she traveled to the capital today, y-your grace.” 

The knight squinted. His posture was rigid and offended by the mere man's presence. 

He stood on their porch, by their house and demanded his attention to the capital? 

How offensive, how misinformed how- 

“Husband?” 

The burning flames hushed beneath his palms as the attention diverted from the man, to the small women beside him.

“Wife,”

With half lidded eyes, the man moved a hand towards her backside and rested it upon her lower spine. The aura shifted, the heat died down and the ambiance of nature could once more be heard. (Rather than the sizzling of a flame that grew onto the man's digits.)

“Maybe it wouldn’t be such a bad visit. It has been a while since our last outing.” He felt the strokes upon his arm, soothingly moving up and down, up and down. 

“Leave us,” Messmer didn’t need to look up once more, as the soldier fled down their stone walkway. 

“She insults us, thou knows of her intentions.” 

His gaze stuck to her lucky honeydew on bread, it stayed there globbing onto each detail. Her eyes were bright today, full of light and love. Yet there was also worry there, and Messmer bit his tongue for placing such a feeling onto her. Her form sagged beside his, most of his arm held her body up, halting it from falling upon the rocks.

“She does,” a pause

“But she’s your mother, to not make an appearance would surely soil your reputation, my love.” 

“Have I not done enough? The bodies that lay upon the mountains, are they not proof of my unwavering loyalty?” His voice raised, startling the shorter woman, moving forward he gestured his hands around their vicinity. 

“All of this, all of it! It's safe because I deemed it so. Not the lord Godwyn, Not the unbeatable Melania. Me. The beholder of flames! Yet thee can be ruined- butchered, for not returning to an unloving kingdom?”

Mouth dry, she tried to speak- to comfort the rising temper of the man but no words budged. His eyes burned bright, they looked right through her. 

“No. I will not be returning, dear wife. For my place is here, by your side, in this house that I built for us,” Cautiously the knight placed himself back in front of her, and to her surprise, bent down on his knees. 

“Messmer! Get up this instant, your knees-”

A big palm covered her lips, its texture rough and calloused. It was so warm compared to the nipping air around them. And although she tried to be mad- she really did, it was hard when such a warmth was comforting to the girl. 

“My wife, I will protect thy until the flames of this land die out, until there's no one left but us to occupy such a fool of a kingdom,” 

“However,” 

The bigger man's hand dropped from her lips, both of his limbs instead wrapped themselves around her being, until his elbows molded together. 

“Do not ask me to leave your side again. Promise me.” 

“Husband… I simply canno-

“Promise me!” The man shouted, his grip tightened fastly around her.

Her nails dug into the man's wrists, and although she wasn’t in pain, his fervent yet fierce attitude scattered her mind. She wasn’t used to such a ferocity of emotion emitting from the man, aimed at her no less.

“I- I promise, I promise my love!” 

As if those were the words he was waiting for all his life, the man crumpled beneath her frame, his head buried between the ripples of her dress, with his nose digging into her stomach. 

She didn't know just how far such a devotion could- would go for the maroon knight. 

For how could she see the future, wrapped in nothing but flame and immorality?

“I  adore you, little wife,” Yellowed iris’ glanced upon her delicate ones. 

A laugh broke out between her lips, enchanting the man entirely.

“And I you, Husband.”

As if starved the man leaned up quickly; hungrily, to lock his lips against hers. Broken skin connected with softened and smooth, Messmer moaned out in content. 

If his wife was to be the end of the world, he would be her weapon. His flames would bathe her with as much loyalty he could give. 

What would he need a broken kingdom for, when such a devoted wife lay in his arms?

[tortillamastersblog]

Back To You - Part 8 | Sam Carpenter

Pairing: Sam Carpenter x reader

Warnings: mentions of violence, death, blood, injuries, and swearing

Summary: When Sam left after turning eighteen, you were devastated. You’d been in love with her since you were kids and her leaving meant you never got to tell her how you truly felt.

Fast forward a couple of years, Tara gets attacked and Sam returns. . .

Previous Part | Next Part | Masterlist

_______________________________________________

I open my eyes and stop leaning against the bus window to my right when my music stops and my phone starts ringing.

Our team’s physical therapist, Jackson, cracks an eye open next to me before settling back into his seat. We’re about the same age and he and I have been friends since he helped me get back in shape for hockey while recovering from my Ghostface injuries.

I pull out my phone and chuckle softly at the incoming video call from Tara.

“Hey,” I answer with a tired smile. “How’s it going?”

Tara’s face lights up at the sight of me. “Hi! It’s going great! We just finished unboxing everything and Sam is out to grab some lunch. How are you?”

I adjust my headphones a bit so I can lean back against the window. “Good, but tired. We’re just getting back from a game.”

“Did you win?” she asks with a raised eyebrow and when I nod her smile brightens.

It’s been two months since I moved from Woodsboro to Boston and since then a lot has changed.

Sam moved into my old apartment when Christina Carpenter kicked her out which led to Tara cutting ties with her mother as well, and now they’re both living there with me being their landlord since I own the place.

I didn’t ask for any rent at first when Sam started living there because she had trouble finding a job, but now she works at a local gym an old friend of my dad’s owns, and she insists on paying some rent.

Other than that the two of them keep me updated on each other’s wellbeing and Sam has really proven that she wants to make things up to me by constantly checking in on me. She also helped me move my classes online and even went so far as to take care of putting flowers on my parents grave on the anniversary of their death a month ago.

We have yet to talk about our feelings for each other —more like my feelings for her— but it just seems wrong to do it over the phone.

Good thing I’m visiting them over Christmas in two months. I’m super nervous about getting everything out in the open, but we have to talk.

I can’t not know how she feels anymore. Either she straight up tells me she doesn’t feel the same way which would hurt but give me closure, or she’ll tell me she likes me back which would be. . . good? I guess? Just because she likes me back doesn’t mean she wants to get into another relationship right away, right? I mean, do I even want to get into a relationship right away?

God, I’m getting ahead of myself.

“Do you want a tour of the apartment?” Tara asks, snapping me out of my thoughts.

“Sure.” I chuckle. I doubt a lot has changed since I didn’t take any of my furniture with me, but I’m sure Tara has taken it upon herself to decorate the place to her liking and I kind of want to know how she’s turned the former guest room into her own room.

She switches the camera on her phone and starts showing me everything, pointing out little details here and there as she moves through the rooms.

Jackson, at one point, waves his hand to get my attention and mouths Girlfriend? while gesturing at my phone and I shake my head.

I mute myself for a moment and turn my phone so Tara can’t see me if she looks at the screen.

“It’s just Tara,” I explain which makes him smile knowingly.

“Ah. . . So the girlfriend’s little sister,” he teases and even though he doesn’t know all too much about Sam and me, he knows the gist of it from Liam and Paige who have met him on more than one occasion while visiting me.

They get along great with Jackson and I love it even though they bond over teasing me. Too bad Liam and Paige are still in Woodsboro. They plan on moving to the east coast some time soon as well though because Liam got a job offer in New York and Paige wants to move in with her long distance girlfriend who lives in Portland.

“Shut up, Sam’s not my girlfriend,” I argue weakly, feeling my cheeks turn red.

Jackson shoves me playfully. “Yet,” he teases and I just shove him back before unmuting myself and focusing back on Tara.

“And finally, my new room,” she says, going on with the tour without realizing that I wasn’t paying attention for a second ago.

“Looks good, Sprout,” I compliment. “I like the fairy lights behind the bed.”

Tara turns the camera again and beams at me. “Thank you. It was Sam’s ideas. She’s going to get some for her room, too.”

“Nice.” I nod in approval and smile sadly. “Man, I miss you guys.”

Them being on the other side of the country and in an entirely different time zone has made it difficult to stay in touch, but we try our best even though talking over the phone is just not the same as seeing each other in person.

Tara’s face softens and she takes a seat on her bed, pouting. “We miss you, too. It’s weird not having you around all the time, but we’ll see each other soon. I already got you your Christmas present.”

That makes me laugh and the homesickness that I was feeling a moment ago fades a little. “Oohh, can’t wait to find out what it is. Speaking of, do you know what I could get Sam? I already have something for you in mind, but I have no idea what to get her.“

Jackson leans over, obnoxiously mimicking kissing someone and I shove him away with a playful glare before looking back at Tara who is too lost in thought to notice my momentary distraction.

“Hmm. I don’t know. There’s this necklace she showed me a while ago that she likes, but I can’t remember where it was from. I can ask her about it though,” she says and I’m quick to nod.

“That would be great, but don’t make it obvious. She can’t suspect anything!” I warn which makes her roll her eyes good-naturedly.

“I won’t, I promise. This isn’t my first rodeo.”

I chuckle. “Good.”

2 months later. . .

I’m finally back in California and as I make my way through the airport’s parking lot to my rental car I can’t help but relish in the warm breeze that rustles some nearby trees.

I’ve come to love Boston and my new friends and teammates, but it’s just so goddamn cold there, especially now right before Christmas.

I was supposed to fly in tomorrow, on the 25th, but I changed my flight two days ago to surprise Sam and Tara, hence why I had to get a rental car instead of the two of them picking me up.

I finally get to the car and shove my bags into the trunk with little effort. I’m so glad I’m no longer injured because if I was, this whole thing would be extremely difficult.

Everything healed nicely, leaving behind nothing but scars, and I can happily live with that. They serve as a reminder that I managed to help Sam and Tara survive Ghostface and that we all made it out alive. The scar on my spine is a different story. I’ve hated it ever since I got it because it reminds me that my parents are dead and that I came close to being paralyzed, both things that I’d rather forget.

I shut the trunk with a satisfying thump, and get into the car, putting on some sunglasses to shield my eyes from the setting sun before pulling out of the parking lot.

The drive to my old apartment is familiar and even though there’s a lot of traffic since it’s Christmas eve, I manage to get home just as the sun goes down, leaving behind a faint orange glow in the sky.

I grab my stuff from the trunk and head into the apartment building, smiling at one of my old neighbors when he recognizes me and opens the door for me.

Okay, this is it.

I smile when I get to the third floor and set my bags down to knock at the familiar door.

I think of how weird it is to knock at my once own door, but that thought quickly vanishes when Tara opens the door ever so slightly, peeking through the gap.

“Oh my God!” She squeaks happily when she realizes it’s me and closes the door again to undo the chain before opening it properly. “Hi!”

“Hey, Sprout. Merry Christmas.” I barely have time to prepare myself for the bone crushing hug she pulls me into, but I’m definitely not complaining. I chuckle and lift her off her feet, spinning around before setting her down again.

“Tara, who’s at the door?” Sam’s voice from inside the apartment makes my stomach fill with butterflies and when she pokes her head around the corner my smile widens.

“Hey.”

Her jaw drops at the sight of me and as soon as I’ve let go of Tara she’s rushed over to hug me as well. Her hug is tame compared to Tara’s, but it’s still comforting and I can’t help but lift her off her feet for a second as well.

“What are you doing here? You weren’t supposed to get in until tomorrow. Did something happen?” she asks in disbelief when I pull back and I don’t miss the way her eyes dart all over my face as if checking for injuries.

My smile softens and I squeeze her in my arms one more time before separating from her completely. “Nothing happened, Sammy. I just wanted to surprise you guys.”

“You did,” Tara says, completely oblivious to the way her sister’s cheeks turn red at my use of her old nickname.

It honestly just slipped out, but I can’t say I’m displeased with the reaction it garnered.

“Yeah,” Sam mumbles, smiling shyly. She tucks her hair behind her ears and picks at the black sweater she’s wearing. “Why don’t you come in? We were just about to start dinner.”

I nod and pick up my bags, following the two of them into the apartment.

Not much has changed since I left because most of the furniture is the same, but Tara did do some decorating and there are different pictures on the walls.

There’s also a decorated christmas tree in the corner of the living room that glows in the low light and makes me smile.

I never put one up when I was living here because I always spent Christmas at Liam and Paige’s place anyway.

“Dinner’s almost ready,” Sam says nervously which makes me turn to look at her in the kitchen. Tara momentarily vanished into her room which explains Sam’s sudden nervousness. The dining table between us is set beautifully with candles and some more Christmas decorations and until now I hadn’t noticed the soft music coming from a speaker nearby. “Why don’t you- uh— freshen up while Tara and I finish up in the kitchen?”

I get a sense of deja vu since not even four months ago I was saying something similar to her, but I nod without bringing it up, taking note of how awkward things suddenly are between us.

We don’t act like this over the phone, but over the phone we usually don’t see each other unless Tara turns it into a video call, and we usually keep things polite.

This seems more. . . intimate even though nothing’s happening.

“Sure. I’ll be right back. Thanks.” I excuse myself and go to the bathroom, taking one of my bags with me.

I could really use a shower after my long flight, so I quickly strip as soon as I’ve locked the door behind me and get into the shower.

The hot water helps to get rid of the residual cold that somehow still clings to me from Boston, and once I get out of the shower I put on a shirt and a hoodie to make sure it also stays away.

I finish dressing and go to leave the bathroom again, but then my eyes get caught on a small orange pill bottle on the floor next to the sink.

I crouch down and pick it up, realizing it’s Sam’s when I see her name on the lable.

Her antipsychotics.

I take a closer look for a moment before shrugging and placing them on the counter next to the sink where they were probably knocked down from.

It doesn’t freak me out that she has to take them, or that she sees visions of Billy because I know they’re just that— visions, and she herself has said that she’d never hurt Tara or me because of them.

I can tell that they’re tiring though because of how resigned she was when she talked about them the last time, and I make a mental note to ask her how she’s dealing with them now.

“Ah, finally!” Tara exclaims when I make my way back into the living room. She’s sitting at the head of the dining table with a steaming bowl of pasta in front of her and a fork in hand, ready to dig in. Sam is sitting to her right, also with a bowl of pasta in front of her, but unlike Tara, she doesn’t seem to be as eager to start eating.

“I was gone for like five minutes,” I defend myself with a smile which makes Sam smile, too. “And you could have started without me, you know that.”

Tara immediately shoves a forkful of pasta into her mouth and shakes her head. “Nu-uh” she mumbles, “Sam made me wait for you.”

I laugh softly and join them at the table. “Well, I’m here now.”

Tara just hums in agreement and continues eating while Sam waits for my reaction to the food after I’ve had my first bite before diving in herself.

“This is great.” My eyes widen in surprise at the taste and I immediately eat another forkful before asking, “You guys made this?”

Sam nods but Tara shakes her head again, pointing her thumb at her older sister. “Sam did. I just watched and set the table.”

Damn. Who knew she could cook like that. I mean, her pancakes were great and all, but I didn’t know she could actually cook like this.

My eyes find Sam’s and when I raise my eyebrows expectantly she finally gives in and shrugs timidly, her eyes avoiding mine.

“It’s not that big of a deal. It’s just some pasta.” She deflects with red cheeks, trying to downplay her skills.

That makes me nudge her foot under the table, prompting her to look at me again. “Maybe. But it’s still delicious.”

I smile and she turns even more red, saying, “Thank you.”

I watch her with fondness as she nervously tucks her hair behind her ear before eating.

“Come on, move. Let me do something,” I complain, trying to get Sam to move away from the sink.

Dinner was delicious and we all helped ourselves to a second serving. Now, Tara is in her room, talking to Chad and Mindy on the phone while Sam and I are in the kitchen doing the dishes.

Well, Sam is doing the dishes. I want to help, but she keeps refusing and telling me to just go relax after my long flight.

“I told you, I’ve got it,” she shoots back, nudging me with her hip, but I’m not having it.

It’s obvious that I can’t persuade her to let me do something, so I’ll just have to manhandle her out of the way.

“Seriously, Y/N, just—Hey!” She squeaks in surprise when I wrap my arms around her from behind and lift her up, carrying her away from the sink before setting her back down.

“You cooked, and Tara set the table, so I’ll do the dishes.” I raise an eyebrow, daring her to object but she finally gives in with a sigh. Her cheeks are once again red and for a moment she doesn’t meet my eye, but when she does, I simply smile at her and get to work on the dishes.

“Do you— I don’t know— Want some coffee or tea?” she asks and even though I don’t want either I nod, understanding her need to do something.

“Tea would be nice,” I say and for the next minute or so a silence settles over us as we both do our thing.

I’m just drying my hands after putting away the last plate when Sam joins my side again with a cup of tea in hand.

“Here you go.” She hands it to me with a small smile and I take it, mumbling a thanks as I raise it to my lips to take a sip.

“So. . .” I lean against the counter. “How are you?”

Sam hugs herself and mirrors my position against the counter. “Okay, I guess. Can’t really complain,” she says, but the way she avoids my eyes with her own tells a different story.

“You sure?” I push slightly, knowing that Tara is still in her room and there’s no chance of her overhearing something Sam potentially doesn’t want her to hear.

Sam shrugs helplessly without really answering, so I set down my tea and step closer.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” I ask softly touching her forearm which makes her look up.

I’m surprised to find her eyes filled with tears. “I. . . Can I have a hug?” she asks quietly and before any tears can escape her eyes I pull her into a hug, resting my chin on top of her head.

Sam lets out a shuddering sigh and sinks into the hug, the smell of her perfume making my heart flutter involuntarily.

The hold this girl has on me is incredible. . .

“What’s going on?” I whisper, running my hands up and down her back.

“Everything’s been just a lot lately, you know? The fight with my mom, being back here, the move. . . not to mention the whole Ghostface shit I’m still trying to get over a-and Richie—“ My hands still on her back at the mention of his name, but I stay quiet, letting her air out her thoughts, “— I still can’t believe he was behind everything. I really liked him and he just threw it in my face and I-I feel like it’s my fault Tara and you were almost killed. I mean people did die because of me. Wes, his mom, Dewey. . .”

I raise a hand to the back of Sam’s head and run my fingers through her hair. It used to help calm her down when we were kids, so I’m hoping it’ll do the same now.

“Sam, no one died because of you.” I hug her tighter. “Richie and Amber killed people because of their fucked up dream of making a new Stab movie. You didn’t do anything wrong.”

“But Billy—“

“Is your father, yes,” I cut her off. “But just because he is doesn’t mean what happened is your fault. It’s Richie’s and Amber’s. They killed all those people, not you. You’re nothing like them and you’re nothing like your father.“

Sam shivers and pulls back a little to look at me. “I might not have killed Wes and the others,” she whispers with tears still in her eyes, “but I did kill Richie and—“ she looks away, ashamed, “—it felt right doing it. It felt. . . good, stabbing him. It felt so fucking good, and I just couldn’t stop a-and that scares me.”

I tilt my head with furrowed eyebrows and cup her face with my hands, her brown eyes doubtful, yet hopeful that I’ll be able to assuage her guilt somehow. “I get it. You think that makes you a monster, but I‘d been surprised if you didn’t feel that way. Richie took so much from you. He betrayed you and hurt you in more ways than one, and he hurt Tara and me. . . He was about to kill all of us, but you stopped him. Yes, you killed him, but there was no other way. He would’ve just kept coming for us if you didn’t, so of course it felt good to kill him— to know that he’d never be able to hurt anyone ever again.”

A single tear rolls down Sam’s cheek and I’m quick to wipe it away before she hugs me again, burying her face in the crook of my neck.

She’s breathing shakily and I once again run my fingers through her hair, resting my cheek against her temple.

“Thank you,” she mumbles. “You always know how to make me feel better.”

I smile sadly and hold her tighter. “You’re welcome.”

If I could have killed Richie for her I would have done it in a heartbeat, but I didn’t and now she has to live with it. She killed him to save herself and to save the rest of us and I hate that she feels guilty for doing it.

We keep hugging for a couple of moments, silently holding each other until she chuckles quietly against the side of my neck.

“I think my therapist would hate you.”

I pull back and smile at her, glad to see that she’s no longer crying. “How come?”

“Because she’s been saying the exact same thing every since I started seeing her, but I didn’t believe it until you just said it,” she admits with a sheepish grin that makes me laugh.

I raise an eyebrow. “Well, shouldn’t she love me then?”

Sam just shrugs and rests her hands on my chest, playing with the strings of my hoodie right as Tara comes walking into the kitchen.

“You guys wanna watch a movie or something? Chad and Mindy say hi, by the way,” she says without commenting on the position she finds us in.

Sam is quick to take a step back though, rubbing the back of her neck and turning to make herself a cup of tea as well.

“Yeah, movie sounds good,” I say, unbothered, picking up my own tea.

Sam simply hums in agreement without turning around, which makes Tara smile and skip to the living room.

I stir, feeling myself wake up at the sensation of something being draped over me.

It’s dark, I notice when my eyes flutter open, and I realize that I must have fallen asleep sometime during the movie.

There’s no sign of Tara, but Sam’s standing over me, adjusting the blanket she draped over me so it covers my feet.

She hasn’t realized I’ve woken up, and I don’t want her to feel bad about waking me, so when she turns back to face me I quickly close my eyes again and pretend I’m still asleep.

There’s some shuffling and it takes everything in me not to flinch when Sam’s fingers brush against my forehead a second later, moving some hair out of my face.

She sighs and I think she might say something since she thinks I’m asleep, but she doesn’t.

She does place a delicate kiss to my forehead though, and it’s so surprising that as soon as I’m sure she’s gone into her room, I open my eyes again, touching my tingling forehead where her lips were a moment ago.

We really need to talk.

_______________________________________________

Happy new year, everyone!

We’ll be diving into the plot of the sixth movie in part 10, so enjoy some fluff for now <3

Tag list: @bella423 @artrizzler19 @btay3115 @canyonyodeler @quadofthec @pussyydestroyer @rqizzu @pithod @morganismspam23

[arjudy224]

The Intern: Small Talk with a Dead Man

After a dramatic realization during Christmas break, Y/N has been peacefully trying to live her life without the influence of the Batfamily. One night after classes, she is visited by an old friend...

*Fluff*

Prequel: Death of a family

The Intern: Day one

The Intern: The Laughing Fish

The Intern: Busy Work

The Intern: Outreach Gala

The Intern: Teachers Pet

The Intern: Visiting an old friend

The Intern: Chemical Valley

The Intern Small Talk with a Dead Man

The Intern: Billionaire Boys Club

I shouldn't have been surprised. TV broadcasts. Google Alerts. The radio guy who complained about Gotham's newest Crime lord during my morning commute. A few local news stations dared to ask, "Is Red Hood more dangerous than the Black Mask?"

Despite all those warning signs, my heart stops when I see him again. A flash of lightning illuminates the man across from me. The signature Red Helmet drips rainwater on my ratty tan carpet. Judging by the watercolors across his knuckles, he must have driven from patrol.

From the corner of my bedroom, my phone vibrates on the nightstand. Dick's grinning face covers the screen. I hurriedly decline the call. Tim's face makes an appearance. The screen goes black. I drag my gaze back to the dead.

"Hatchling?" Jason observes motioning to Tim's contact name, "What's Damien's? Infant?"

I pause to think about it. What did I make Damien's?

"Sassy pants... with several angry emojis." I elaborate showing him the contact.

"Ahh... fitting for a child raised by assassins."

The room feels too small. Stuffy even. After years of dreaming of what I'd want to say to him, I blank. How do you even begin to approach this conversation? A painful silence forms. The helmet drops from his trembling hands with a thud. My heart stings when I hear his voice break.

"I'm sorry. I didn't know where else to go."

That breaks me out of my stupor. Crossing the room, I shush him.

"Take this jacket off before you track any more water in. My landlord is terrified of mold."

Reluctantly, he lets me peel the wet leather away from his goosebumped riddled skin. The hulking man slumps towards my touch. In the darkness, his features soften. He stops my quiet fussing by brushing the side of my cheek with the palm of his hand. For a moment, he takes a labored breath. Slowly, I meet his gaze. I can almost forget how long it has been.

How many nights did we do this? Bruce starting a fight. Jason sneaking in through my childhood window with a devilish grin.

"I figured I've already disappointed one father figure. Why not disappoint them both?"

The image of his charred corpse flashes in my mind. I flinch away from his grasp. Some memories don't age well.

"Go sit in the living room," I command throwing a towel in his direction, "Do you want tea?"

"Yes please." He agrees following my heels, "Do you have-"

"The usual? " I interrupt with a sly backward glance, "Who do you think I am?"

I almost blush at the look he gives me. Good God. My back turns to face him while I turn the kettle on.

Which mug do you give a dead man?

I correct myself.

Which mug do you give a crime lord?

I look past the cluster of random holiday cups to my shining star. A brand new Superman mug complete with a washable cape napkin. Water. Green Tea and chamomile bags. A little bit of honey.

While I set everything up, Jason studies the collage of photos on my wall. Some from Gotham. A mix from school. His eyes fall upon a selfie of Dick, Alfred, Barbara, and I. Encrested on the frame, it reads, "Jason Todd Memorial 2022". My throat gets tight. It seems so meaningless now. Leaning against the kitchen counter, I analyze the man. The new uniform is much more outwardly utilitarian than his Robin costume. No more shorts. The guns are new. He had set a few in a cluster on the coffee table. Jason takes a postcard from the collage in his hands.

"George Clooney?" He muses turning over the card, "Dick always had a flair for the dramatics."

"It runs in the family," I retort setting down his mug on the table.

As I draw near, he smiles at the choice of mug.

"I didn't realize that you picked sides."

"Alfred sent it to me as a peace offering," I shrug.

I motion to the brown patched-up couch. Jason eagerly reclines. His body stiffens at the strange lumps towards the center.

"Courtesy of Ma Kent," I joke, "I'm convinced she lined it with kryptonite, so Clark wouldn't jump on it."

Rubbing his sore shoulders, Jason grimaces sitting up.

"Well, I'm sure this is the only couch that could cause the Man of Steel back pain."

Sitting next to the sweaty young man, I sip on my own tea. The bitterness of the green tea grounds me to the present.

"Do you want to talk about what happened in Gotham tonight?" I question glancing at the freshly bandaged cuts on his arms.

He shakes his head grimacing at the memory. New City. New topics.

Grabbing the remote, I start, "What are you feeling tonight? I've been aching to rewatch "You're Next" for a while."

He eyes me with playful suspicion. Jason folds his arms behind his head.

"What? I've always found scary movies comforting after a long day."

"Like the way you find Ma Kent's Couch to be comfortable?" He teases fidgeting with the coarse fabric of the homemade pillow.

The random stains make him raise an eyebrow. Thunder shakes my apartment.

"It's an acquired taste." I reply pulling the pillow flush against my chest, "Besides, horror is the only genre where your anxiety is always right, but the horror never stays for too long. It’s nice to see the Protagonists survive to the end of their story."

For a moment, he looks like my Jason again. The slight bruising around his left eye causes him to squint ever so slightly, but he flashes me an amused smirk. Studying the man beside me, everything about him feels so familiar yet so foreign simultaneously. He has the same onery smile, yet it doesn't stretch as far as it did before. This new Jason is big... Somehow in the last few years, Jason doubled in size. What were they feeding him?

"You watch too many movies." He remarks offering me half of the blanket.

I pause trying to ignore the pit in my stomach. My Jason had blue eyes. A flash of lightning illuminates the small TV screen. Sitting next to the furnace of a man, I inadvertently inch closer.

"That is probably true." I reply lying my head on his shoulder.

Taking his large, calloused hand in mine, I turn it over in examination.. The skin is torn at the knuckles probably due to some unknown crook starting something he couldn't finish. His swollen splotchy purple fingers wrap around mine.

"Does it hurt?" I ask curiously

He responds with a painful shrug.

"Not as much as dying."

Jason eyes me curiously waiting for my reaction. Against all odds, I laugh until I snort. He turns his head to hide the smile on his face. Eyes on the TV, Jay continues.

"Well, it's true."

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