#endless suffering sadness

[cutiehulk]

.

[stillness138]

vincent van gogh has become the male marilyn monroe the way people just en masse misuse his image (that pop culture and capitalism have utterly commodified) and completely dismiss the hardships he went through while alive. we all gawk at the starry night and attach it to messages of how all it takes is will and work and conveniently ignore how the man lived in poverty and severe mental health struggles until he committed suicide at the age of 37

[shannonallaround]

you know I like angst as much as the next guy but if there’s no happy ending at the end then what’s the point?

[adrianlikesdinos]

shows i watch very much effect the way i see the world and how i process experiences. going from Doctor Who to Hannibal just feels like net zero character development.

[newlyacquiredbois]

the suffering is endless

pic credit @trippingminor

[howifeltabouthim]

'It would have been happier for many of us had we died in infancy.' 'Would it have been happier for you?' 'Yes,' she faintly said. 'I have had more than my share of sorrow. Sometimes I think that I cannot support it.' 'It is not past, then? Have you sorrow now?' 'I have it always. I shall have it till I die. Had I died a child . . . I should have escaped it. Oh! the world is full of it! full and full.'

Ellen Wood, from East Lynne

[jaime-in-chaos]

Why the hell am I crying over gay robots with depression and sick cats.......

[illkeepyourbrittleheartwarm]

Also for someone so obsessed with pure, true romantic love and finding it, i sure do struggle with emotional permanence

I say as if I'm not mentally ill with attachment and polarisation issues that i am the classic textbook definition of

And I've noticed my attachment style is changing a little. Still very much anxious, but with increasingly disorganised tendencies

[familyrantise2003]

Hello guys, I am very sad about our children's childhood which was full of suffering and hardships. They were deprived of all their rights...

The suffering of our children in Gaza increases with the arrival of winter. How can their delicate bodies bear the bitter cold in tents that do not provide them with warmth? What is the fault of these innocent people to live in these harsh conditions? They are deprived of their most basic rights in life, including health care. They also suffer from malnutrition due to the lack of good food availability, and the danger surrounding them due to the lack of a safe place for them. Our children in Gaza are still living an endless nightmare of hunger, cold and fear. Please help us spread the campaign or donate as much as you can.

These are pictures of our children during this genocide.

These are pictures of them before this genocide⬇️⬇️⬇️.

The situation is getting worse and the war of extermination is intensifying against these innocent children. There is no safe place for them. Please help by sharing my campaign. Thank you all for your support.

@paparoach @timetravellingshinigami @deathlonging @briarhips @mazzikaty @mahoushojo @rhubarbspring @schoolhater98 @pcktknife @transmutationisms @sawasawako-archived @a-shade-of-blue @irhabiya @commissions4aid-international @wellwaterhysteria @junglejim432 @kibumkim @neechees   @kyra45-helping-others @7bitter-sweet-blog @komsomolka @neptunerings @riding-with-the-wild-hunt @heritagepostsbot @fromjannah @omegaversereloaded @vague-humanoid @evillesbianvillainarchive @ot3 @amygdalae @ankle-beez @dykesbat @stuckinapril @violentrevolution-blog @mavigator @lacecap   @socalgal @chilewithcarnage @ghelgheli @sayruq @papenathys @slicedblackolives @heritageposts @buttercuparry @brutaliakent

@appsa @jezior0

[keirametzbrassknuckles]

Not only ill but also working a closing shift on this most hallowed of weens because my immune system and the scheduling software hate me apparently.

[d-lmthael]

Please do not ignore our suffering and our causes

I am Imtithal from North Gaza, I share with you the deep sorrow of my family from Gaza, so I created this campaign for him to try to help him and his family. I know that donations are not easy in these times, but I believe that every contribution has the power to change someone's life.

That is why I am participating in this campaign with all my faith, not only to keep them saved, but also to protect their dreams and help them get out of Gaza. I am Imtithal from Gaza, I lost all my dreams and my job as a dentist, I lost my home, I lost my brother Obaida who was killed and he had young children, and my family lost their entire livelihood because of this war in Gaza.

We live in miserable conditions and live in poor conditions with my family of 35, most of whom are young children. We are always trying hard to provide a living as hunger and thirst kill us.

The scene continues, full of depression, sadness, fear and horror. The siege imposed on us, the genocide that follows us, all kinds of torment and suffering, the spread of diseases, all of this and more kills life in Gaza, kills our existence, and our lives have turned into an endless nightmare, amidst hopes hanging by a thin thread.

We are suffering now, and we do not know what tomorrow will bring. We do not know when this war will end!!! Because we have lost everything beautiful, we are about to lose more.

We face harsh conditions and a dark future for our lives, displacement, poverty and pain. But there is a glimmer of hope with your help and generous donations.

We can leave Gaza and build a new life and rise from the rubble. Every small donation can make a big difference. That is why I seek through your donations. To get out at a time when an individual pays huge sums of money ranging between ($5,000, $10,000) per person. My family and I are in dire need to get out of Gaza so that we do not lose our lives, and we also need to rebuild our lives again, so that we can rise and return as we were. A new home 

[nuhaebrahim678]

Hello.. I am Nuha, a mother of beautiful children, living in Gaza. My heart breaks every day when I see my children living in constant fear, wanting nothing more than to feel safe. Our lives have become an endless nightmare. Whenever they hear the sound of a missile, they freeze in place, and fear fills their eyes😔🥺🇵🇸🍉💔.We froze, world, my children are shaking, where is your humanity? 🍉😔💔🇵🇸🥶🥶🥶🥶I hope you can assist my family. Thank you🙏Your donation, no matter how small, helps save my family from death.🥹🙏🏼The situation is catastrophic now in Gaza after the heavy rain and winds this week. Did you know that families in Gaza are sheltered only by some pieces of nylon and that the cold is very severe? My family is suffering from severe cold.There is no shelter to protect them from the bitter cold. Their help will save my family’s lives from starvation and may help them flee Gaza soon after the crossings are opened soon.Only people with compassionate hearts like you help and sympathize with the afflicted We don't have shelter or enough food. We sleep on the cold ground, and my children complain of cold and hunger, and I try to smile at them. I see the sadness in their eyes, and I feel deeply helpless because I cannot protect them. Every day that passes is a new challenge, and I can't imagine a future for them in this hell.🍉💔I implore you from the bottom of my heart, please help us. We need any help that can be a lifeline for us. ?🥺🍉My children deserve the chance to live in peace, and we are fighting to survive. Save us before we lose everything.💔🤍These are my children. It is forbidden for these children to be sick and hungry. They are craving everything and I cannot provide them with the simplest thing. A biscuit has now cost $20 and I do not have the money. They have not eaten vegetables or flour due to their high prices for months. 💔

✅️Vetted by @gazavetters, my number verified on the list is ( #409 )✅️

https://gofund.me/d97dea02

@90ghost

@nabulsi

@el-shab-hussien

@gazavetters

@gazafunds

@gazafundraisers

[sitepathos]

From Gold to Mold

Chapter 10: The Meeting

As the Megamycete watches as you stomp around your room and vent your frustrations about the last few days, it begins to wonder how the Bats came to remember their little black sheep and why they are so insistent you return to Gotham.

It searches through your memories and experiences all the sadness, fear, anger, hatred, and loneliness you experienced for years, all those emotions still so potent even after your departure from the manor four years ago, having been dredged up by their unwelcome visits. It was clear that, besides the butler, none of them considered you a part of their merry band of misfits, not even bothering to spare you a passing glance.

The exception to this is the youngest one, Damian, who constantly went out of his way to make your life harder by mocking you, hurting you, and releasing his menagerie of pets on you, forcing you to run through the endless halls of the mansion barricade yourself in the closest room you could find.

Now, after four years after your escape and maintaining little contact with the family butler, they show up on your door, one after the other, trying to force you to leave your perfect life for one that brought you nothing but pain and misery.

Why?

Why do they want you so much?

Why do they insist on you returning to a place you clearly hate?

Why do they now wish to give you the love they denied you for so long?

Why—

Wait, they are meeting in their little cave, gathering around the massive computer in the center of the massive cavern.

Its roots have long since surrounded the cave and it is still connected to the main colony back in Gotham, but when it took you as its host, it has had no need to tap into its roots to see the world above when it can see the world through your eyes and experience it through your senses.

Using its roots to see the outside world no longer has the same appeal when your senses are far more vibrant and provide far more detail.

When it proposed you become its host, it must admit, it never thought it would be so mutually beneficial. Of course, it would be able to leave the cavern and finally experience a world firsthand that had been forever just out of reach for over four-hundred years, but you would recover from your injuries and be akin to a god among men with your newfound abilities. You were the one who had more to gain from your joining, but it was willing to trade one prison for another if it meant finally seeing the world above and having someone to talk to.

But you proved it wrong.

When it became a part of you, you treated it like a person, not a thing. You value its input and alter your plans if it desires to see or experience something. You frequently talk to it, telling it things that you haven’t told anyone else and speaking to it like it was a lifelong friend.

It has no further use for that toxic city and its citizens when it has the warm haven of Goodsprings and you to keep it company.

It has come to admire you, even going as far as to see you as a friend and confidant, and wants nothing but the best for you as you so rightfully deserve and to see you suffer teaches it a new definition of rage.

“Running blood tests,�� your failure of a father says as he types on the keyboard, causing a machine next to the massive device to make noises.

“If Master Y/N does test positive for the Meta Gene, what do you intend to do, Master Bruce,” the butler, the only one in this crowd it respects, asks.

“If Y/N is a meta, I’ll have to find out what his powers are and how to counter it.”

So that’s what this meeting is about, they managed to put the pieces together that you are no mere human. But how did they manage to get a sample of your blood? Since your joining, you have had no need for doctors as its influence makes you immune against common illnesses and diseases.

“Getting his blood was a simple task,” Damian taunts. “Honestly, this would have been solved already if you sent me, Father.”

Of course. It should have known the little menace gave up too easily.

While you hate Bruce Wayne in every sense of the word, Damian Wayne is right behind him. From the moment you met him, he went up of his way to make your life a living nightmare and was allowed to get away with impunity due to obvious favoritism from Dick Grayson.

The memory of Dick defending Damian after he gave you a scar made the Megamycete furious. No matter his upbringing, he had no right to harm you, and yet, he was allowed to draw his sword on you. It was only pure luck that you managed to move to avoid being critically wounded, only resulting in a scar.

The Megamycete has seen your many fantasies of hurting Damian and making him feel inferior and wants to help you make them a reality.

“Results are in,” Bruce announces, making them all crowd around the computer.

“No Meta Gene,” Tim remarks, staring at the monitor with alarming intensity.

“Yeah, but look,” Jason exclaims, pointing at one of the results. “He’s got something in him that doesn’t belong.”

“For once, Todd is right. The tests show foreign substances in his blood.”

“Wait,” Tim mutters as he leans over and begins typing on the computer, bringing up an extensive menu and going through various files. “That looks so familiar.” An image is pulled up on the monitor. “Here it is! The stuff in his blood matches the stuff found in what remained of Joker.”

Well, this is rather unfortunate. It had hoped that there would be very little of the clown left to examine after his execution by your hand, but as usual, these people cannot resist poking into areas they do not belong.

“If this is substance is in Master Y/N’s blood, does that mean he is responsible for Joker’s death?”

“Bruce, you can’t lock up Y/N after bringing him home,” Dick whines. “You have to admit, your thing with Joker was only going to end one way!”

“We don’t even know if Y/N killed Joker,” Tim interjects. “It’s possible this strain of mold was in both of them and Joker’s was somehow activated, killing him.”

“That’s not exactly comforting, Drake,” Damian responds, glaring at Tim. “That means that Y/N could be in danger. If I had my pick, I would he be responsible for Joker’s death. Knowing he can take down as formidable as the Joker is proof he is a Wayne and my brother.”

If it had eyes, the Megamycete would roll them. This insecure little terror spent years making it clear he saw you as an interloper into his “perfect world” and not as a brother and that you are a disgrace to the Wayne bloodline (although that bloodline was tainted far before you came to be). He has some nerve to call you his brother now.

It still made it angry that he had the nerve to critique your mother (your memories of her painted the woman as a saint) when his mother, the daughter of a millennium-old maniac with delusions of grandeur (yes, you are very aware of his familiar secrets) who drugged Bruce in order to bring him into the world.

“We need to bring him back here, Bruce,” Dick says, defusing a fight between the two. “If he’s in danger, he needs to be back home.”

“I agree,” Bruce responds. “Cass, you and I will go. I’ll distract him and while he’s busy yelling at me, you’ll sneak up behind him and inject him with a tranquilizer.”

The mute nods and the Megamycete wishes it has a mouth so it can scream. Not only is it offensive that they believe you are stupid enough to fall for such an obvious trick, but that they believe they have the right to decide something like this on your behalf.

If they have failed to realize that you want nothing to do with them after you have yelled it at them, perhaps they will understand if it tells so itself.

And it knows the perfect form to take.

He stands up from the chair and makes his way to the armory where they keep the tranquilizers meant for the larger criminals, like Bane and Killer Croc.

He hates the thought of using such methods against you, but you’ve made it clear you aren’t going to come back to Gotham willingly and the discovery of this mysterious mold inside you has forced their hand.

Nevertheless, improvisation is one of their many skills, a requirement in their line of work. Once they have you back home, they’ll be able to conduct more in-depth tests and be able to find out what’s wrong with you and go from there.

As much as he hates the idea of you possibly being in pain and may even be in danger, he can’t deny there’s a small inside him that’s glad this has happened. This discovery accelerates their plans and will have you brought home far sooner.

And, there’s the chance that this mold may explain most of your hatred towards them. Sure, he knows you have every right to despise them, but when he saw the look in your eye when you pushed him down that night of the award ceremony. He could tell you enjoyed inflicting pain on him.

This stuff in you must’ve made your temper more volatile and made you lash out at them.

It’s the only explanation.

“Excuse us,” a familiar voice calls throughout the cave, stoping his dead in his tracks.

That voice… No, it can’t be. There’s no way…

He turns around to see you, standing in the cave, all of them looking right at you. The small smile on your face making the hair on the back of his neck stand up.

“We believe there are some things we should talk about,” you say as you walk closer to them, making his children back up with each step you take.

“No fucking way,” Jason remarks, his eyes wide as saucers.

“Wait,” Tim says as he rushes over to the computer and rapidly types on the keyboard. “You can’t be Y/N. His phone says he’s still in Goodsprings and we’ve been monitoring his GPS signal, so there’s no way you could’ve come all the way to Gotham from Nevada without us knowing!”

That’s right, they’ve been monitoring your phone ever since Alfred helped them remember you, tracking you every move and committing your searches, social media usage, and all your texts and phone calls. They would’ve done the same to your computers that are linked to your phone, but your cybersecurity is tougher than they anticipated (clearly custom) and they haven’t been able to crack the encryption.

He knew you were skilled at making videos games, but he didn’t know your skills with technology expanded into cybersecurity. Ever since they made that discovery, Tim’s spent nearly all day trying to pierce your firewalls, but hasn’t made any progress. He’s also made it clear he wants to have lengthy conversations on computers and programming with you once you’re back home.

So, you’re still in Goodsprings, so who the hell is this, why the hell would they take your form, and how the hell did they get into the Cave without setting off any of the dozens of alarms or sensors?

“Who are you” Damian hisses, taking a defensive posture. “And what gives you the right to assume the form of my brother?”

“You have some nerve calling him your brother,” the Not-You hisses back, the smile morphing into an all-too familiar snarl. “He is too good for you, for any of you.”

Even though he knows this isn’t you, hearing those words in your voice still hurts him.

“Do you know Master Y/N,” Alfred interjects, trying to bring tensions down, most likely so he can learn more from this person.

“Yes, we do,” Not-You responds, looking at the butler, the snarl morphing into a look of… admiration? “And we know you, Alfred Pennyworth. We know of you and how you helped him during his stay in this wretched mansion. You have our gratitude.”

“Look, whoever you are, stop taking Y/N’s form,” Steph exclaims. “You’re obviously a shapeshifter, so turn back to normal! Or the very least, take a different form!”

“Oh, do you all wish for us to take another form,” the Not-You asks, a ghost of a smirk gracing “your” face.

“Yes,” Bruce says without hesitation.

It’s bad enough to see you look at them with such hatred, he won’t tolerate some imposter doing the same thing.

“Very well.”

Before them all, the Not-You turns into a shifting mass of some type of black organic mass before taking on a humanoid shape once again and Bruce’s heart stops when he takes in the new form.

“Hello, Bruce,” the shapeshifter says in a voice he hasn’t heard in years.

Not since that fateful night in Crime Alley.

“Good God,” Alfred says, his eyes wide and his jaw practically on the floor.

In front of them is his mother, every detail exactly how she was that night, still adorned in her favorite pearl necklace and wearing her green dress.

As he stares at her looking at him with those eyes that use to look at him with nothing less than unconditional love, he feels his breathing start to become erratic and eyes begin to mist up.

“What’s wrong, Bruce,” the shapeshifter says in her voice (god, even her voice was exactly how he remembered) as they begin to walk towards him, making him step back. “I thought you would be happy to see me. It has been so long since I was killed.”

“No,” he says, his voice barely louder than a whisper. “You’re not her. You can’t be.”

“But I am. Do you not see? I know everything you have done.” His mother’s face then morphs into a disgusted snarl, making him sick to his stomach. “And I am absolutely disgusted in you! Why did we have to die that night? Why not the disgrace we once called our son!”

He knows this isn’t his mother and she never would’ve called him a disgrace, but hearing those words in a voice he’s longed to hear for so long makes him want to cry.

He’s had dreams of seeing his mother’s in the flesh again and now he has to endure this berating? Is he truly that horrible of a man to deserve this?

“Stop it, you bitch,” Jason exclaims as he steps between Bruce and the shapeshifter. “Take another form or get the fuck outta here!”

“Oh, you want us to another form?” His… the shapeshifter shifts once again and in his mother’s place is…

“Hiya, Dead Hood,” Joker exclaims before exclaiming in that all-too familiar cackle and waving around a crow bar in his hand. “Did you miss me?”

It doesn’t take a detective to notice Jason tense up and his breathing stop; Joker left a mark on Jason that unfortunately will never be erased (another shortcoming that eats away at Bruce everyday) and whenever news of Joker escaping Arkham would bring up all the anger, fear, and sadness that was planted in Jason that night he died.

After Joker was killed, he noticed a weight seemed to be lifted off of Jason’s shoulders. Sure, he made jokes about the clown burning in hell, but Bruce could see he was genuinely happy and was ready to move on form that horrible chapter in his life.

And now, all that trauma is about to be dug back up after four years.

“You have five fucking seconds to take another form before I beat the shit outta you,” Jason says in a tone that says he means business, his eyes flickering into that shade of Lazarus green.

“How about this form,” the shapeshifter says in Joker’s voice before changing into John Grayson, making Dick tense up. “Or this form?” John Grayson then shifts into Janet Drake, making Tim tense up.

“Alright, you made your point,” Barbara shouts. “Just turn back into Y/N.”

And with that, the shapeshifter takes your form again.

“Who are you,” Bruce growls, pissed that his sons have had their trauma jabbed at. “We know you’re not Y/N, but you know him and us.”

You may call us the Megamycete.”

“Megamycete,” Tim asks. “So, you’re not human?”

“No, we are a super colony of mold given sentience via a Lazarus Pit.”

“Of course a fucking pit’s involved,” Jason mutters.

“What’s your tie to Y/N,” Dick interjects.

“Y/N is our host. Before, we were confined to a cavern beneath this city, but when we joined with him, we were freed from our prison.”

“So, you’re using him.”

The Megamycete glares at Bruce for his accusation.

“No, he and us operate on mutual trust and respect. Y/N is a respectable young man.” A smirk appears on “your” face. “A trait he clearly did not inherent from you.”

The words hit him like a punch to the gut. Even though this thing is probably the reason why you feel so much hate towards them, it still pains him to know this is his reality.

“Were you responsible for the Joker’s death,” Steph chimes in. “We found weird strains of mold in his remains and you’re a walking, talking pile of mold.”

“While we are not directly responsible for the Joker’s death, we do not deny we were involved. That night, Y/N took us out to Amusement Mile to celebrate when we learned the Joker was sighted in an arcade. Upon seeing the many deaths left in his wake, our host took matters into his own hands and eliminated the biggest threat this city had ever seen.” It gives Bruce a wide smirk. “In a single night, our host did more to help Gotham than you and your brood have done in years.”

Knowing you were responsible for killing Joker didn’t sit well with him. Sure, he’d accepted that Joker’s games were only going to end with one or both of them being dead a long time ago, but knowing that you, his son, had killed him…

“What about Harley,” Dick asks, breaking Bruce out of his thoughts. “He killed her too?”

“She forced his hand. He had no choice.”

“What do you mean he had no choice,” Dick shouts. “Did you force him?”

“Do not be stupid,” it says, glaring at his first son. “Our host was in complete control of his actions that night. We no more control his actions than you. The woman was a lost cause, without Joker to keep her in line, she would have punished all of Gotham as retribution for the loss of her love. Also, she would have informed you of him, causing you to devote all your resources to finding him. In order to both save Gotham from her wrath and himself from your scrutiny, Harley had to die.”

No, this thing has to be lying. There’s no way you, one of his sons, could ever rationalize killing someone. It had to have forced you to kill them. It had to…

“How did you even find Y/N,” Damian interjects.

Upon being asked that question, it smiles. And not a normal smile, but a smile that says it knows something they don’t know and something tells Bruce he’s not going to like it.

“He was thrown into our cavern after being left for dead.”

Bruce hears the words, but they just don’t process.

You were… left for dead? When? How?

“It was four years ago, while the butler was on his vacation. That day, his boss was forced to retire due to Gotham’s high crime, so he was forced to find another bus stop within Crime Alley as he had no other way of returning here, where he was unfortunately captured by three thugs and takes to a cabin in the nearby forest. They intended to ransome him off for a high price due to his school uniform.”

You were held hostage? Why didn’t you call for them? For him?

He knows you have no reason to think he’d help you with homework, but surely you’d call him if you were ever—

Just then, memories from that time frame kick in.

Random…

Phone call…

Oh… Oh no…

“Since the butler was out of the country, he actually reached out and gave the thugs the phone number for this manor.”

He so desperately wants the ground to open up and swallow him whole.

“You said all your children were with you and you all laughed and mocked the leader of the thugs.”

He sees all his children tense up at the realization and Alfred looks at him to see if it was true. Based on the butler’s look of shock and disbelief, he knows it’s the truth.

“The one time he reaches out to you for help, you laugh and mock. He needed you and you failed him in the worst way possible.”

He remembers that night. He thought it was so stupid that someone would think he wouldn’t know when one of his kids were missing. He said all his children were with him and meant it.

God, he really is the worst, isn’t he?

“After that phone call, the leader took all his frustrations out on our host, beating him until he could cry out for mercy no longer before shooting him in the head.”

He wants to cry when the image of you being beat up enters his head, and based on the way he flinches, so does Jason, who looks like he wants to cry.

Alfred looks like he’s ready to go nuclear and Bruce doesn’t blame him. Hearing all this years later and he had no idea what happened just proves he was never worthy of being your father.

“He was on the brink of death and had he not accepted our offer to become our host, he would be dead and the world would have been deprived of a brilliant mind.”

The thought of you dying brings a brunch of thoughts to the surface.

How long would it had taken him to notice you were missing?

How would he reacted upon learning you were dead?

Chances are your body would’ve never been found and all there would be to remember you by would be a tombstone with your name in the Wayne Cemetery. Hell, you’ve made it clear you want nothing to do with the Wayne name, so you probably would’ve never agreed to be buried with the rest of the Waynes.

“Our joining restored him to full health and gave him access to many powers, including our records.”

“Records,” Tim asks, clearly interested in this.

“We have existed for four-hundred years, our roots expanding towards every corner of this city. As our roots touched those buried beneath the ground, not only have we watched the goings-on of Gotham, but we absorbed the memories, knowledge, and structure of the deceased. As horrible as the city is, it has attracted many brilliant minds, like artists, scientists, engineers, and many more. He has access to the knowledge of these people, making him one of the smartest humans alive.” It chuckles. “In fact, many of your employees are in our records and he used this knowledge to get revenge on you, selling the secrets of your company to Lex Luthor for a tidy sum.”

You were the one who did that? He’s been racking his brain and reviewing network logs to find any sort of security breach and it was you using the remains of his dead employees.

“Alright, so that solves a lot of mysteries,” Dick interjects. “But that still leaves one: why are you here?”

“We have been by our host’s since that fateful night, peering through his memories and seeing the world through his eyes. Ever since he was forced to move to Gotham, none of you ever made him feel welcome here. For years, he wanted nothing more than to return to his rightful home, where he knew nothing but love. Now, after four years since his departure from this wretched manor, you appear, one after another, trying to bring him back to a place he despises more than anywhere else. We wish to know why.”

“He’s my son,” Bruce answers, not liking what this thing has to say.

“He’s family,” Dick adds. “Of course we’d want him back.”

“But none of you have ever made him feel that way. And if you are honest with yourselves, you never saw him as one of your own. You only want him because you feel guilty about how you treated him, and that guilt is making you believe you are owed a second chance. And you seek to obtain that second chance, no matter how much harm it does to him.”

“You don’t know what the fuck you’re taking about,” Jason exclaims, clearly getting more and more pissed. “Yeah, we fucked up! But that doesn’t change the fact that he’s a part of this fucked up family!”

“He was never a part of this family. We know for a fact that he wishes he could take out the Wayne DNA and return it.”

“That’s because you’re manipulating him,” Damian interjects. “Nothing will change the fact that he’s my blood brother.”

“It is funny you say that when the last interaction you had with him was a fight.” It lifts hits arm and manifests a gold pen in its hand. “Do you remember this? This is the pen you tried to steal from him and then threw out into the rain when he gave you a much deserved slap upside your head. Do you know the significance of this item to our host?”

Bruce gets the feeling that he’s not going to like why that pen is so important to you and based off Alfred’s expression, that feeling gets even worse.

“This pen once belonged to his mother, made by her father when she set out to become an author. When she was taken from him, this pen was the only thing he had to remember her by. And you, the arrogant beast that you are, felt you had the right to take this, his most treasured possession, from him.” It turns its gaze from Damian to the rest of them. “And the rest of you supported this irreverent mongrel and condemned our host without listening to him before passing judgment.”

It seems like a day can’t go by that Bruce feels like the scum of the earth; ever since he learned of how he neglected you for years and forgot you even existed, his sense of worth has taken hit after hit. He was thinking about that argument you had with Damian and how furious he was when you refused to obey him not too long ago, thinking how stupid it was for you to cause so much trouble over a simple pen. Now to find out that “simple pen” was the only thing you had to remember your mother by…

It just never ends, does it?

He could spend the rest of his life atoning for everything he’s ever done to you, spend his last dollar to make your wildest dreams come true and he’d never come close to earning your forgiveness.

He knows he’s not the best father for his children, but he was never worthy of being your father and he’s certainly not that now.

“Y/N,” he whispers, knowing this isn’t you, but it has your face, your vice, and your memories, so it’s the next best thing. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

He knows tears are falling from his eyes, surprising both Alfred and his children. He doesn’t want them to see him like this, but he can’t help it; the last few days have been one emotional turmoil after another and he’s reached his limits.

He failed his baby in every way possible.

“Now you understand,” it responds as it walks closer to him. “You fulfilled your purpose, Mr. Wayne. You brought Y/N into this world and had him brought to Gotham, where he was delivered into our custody. Now please, do not worry for him, we assure you we will provide him with true happiness. Go on, all you have to do is stay in Gotham and out of our host’s business.”

“Father,” Damian exclaims. “You can’t possibly be considering this!”

“Bruce,” Dick adds. “You aren’t going to actually do it, right?”

“Don’t fuck this up, Bruce,” Jason adds.

“We can’t just give up on him,” Tim adds.

“Yeah, he’s your son,” Barbara adds.

“He’s our brother,” Steph adds.

‘Family doesn’t give up on one another,’ Cass signs.

“Master Bruce,” Alfred warns, clearly not pleased at the thought of giving up on you.

He should, though. He knows that he’ll never be worthy of calling himself your father and you’ve made it clear you hate him and your siblings in every sense of the word. You wanted to go back to your childhood home in Goodsprings, a place that made you feel loved, something his home never made you feel. And the last four years were good to you based off your appearance and success. Plus, you had the Megamycete, that apparently has been more of a family to you than them.

If he was a good person, he’d put your needs and wants ahead of yours and agree to leave you alone and tell his children to do the same. Repeatedly harassing you would only make you hate them more and widen the gap between you and them. You don’t need them and clearly learned how to live without them. Over the past few days, he’s gathered every piece of information about you he can find and from what he sees, you love it in Goodsprings and fully intend on living in the house you and your mother lived.

But he’s not a good person, not by a long shot.

The night his parents were gunned down like animals in that disgusting alley, his sadness had turned into a bright inferno of rage; he wanted to inflict on every criminal that he met every ounce of his never ending vengeance and make them so afraid of him that they refuse to step outside whatever hole they call home, so that no one ever has to lose a child, a parent, a friend, or a loved one to some scumbag with a gun. That was his reason for donning the cowl.

After his parents were taken from him, he made it his mission to never lose anything of his ever again and two things that he holds dear more than anything in this world are Gotham and his family. And as long as he’s breathing, he’ll hold onto those two things until the bitter end.

Is it possible that in his mission to protect his city from Arkham’s inmates have made him forget the little details? Of course, Gotham needs Bruce Wayne as much as it needs Batman.

Is it possible that his need to hold onto his children with an iron grip has made him lose them on multiple occasions? Absolutely, he’s constantly remembering that his children are their own people and that even though they may leave him, they’ll always come home.

And that’s what his situation is with you. He knows he fucked up with you and he can never undo the damage he’s done to you, it doesn’t change the fact that you are his blood, his son, his firstborn.

You belonged to him the moment you were born and there’s nothing that can change that. He wishes he could go back in time and accept the gift of your affection that his past self spurred, but he can’t (his time as a Justice League member has taught him that going back in time is more trouble than it’s worth) and his only option is to move forward and make you see that the only place in this world for you is with him and your siblings here in Gotham, a city that has and always will belong to the Waynes.

And right now, this Megamycete is an obstacle standing in his way of completing his family. And if there’s one thing Bruce is very good at over the years, it’s overcoming obstacles.

“No.”

“Pardon,” it says, confusion etched onto its face.

“No,” he says loudly, making it clear he has no intention on letting you go. “Y/N is my son and their brother. He belongs here, with me and his family, not in some backwater town with some sentient mushroom. We’ll find a way to bring him back here and separate the two of you. And when we do, he’ll have all the time in the world to realize this is where he needs to be. Once he realizes that, all of Gotham will celebrate his return.”

He looks around and sees not only does his family seem happy with that statement, but they think the same as him.

The Megamycete looks at him, silent, seemingly shocked at his statement.

Then, it begins to laugh. First, just soft chuckles, then a laugh so loud, it echoes off the walls of the cave.

“Our host was right, you have clearly lost what sanity you had left. You reject him for years and now that you realize your folly, you seek to make amends? Please, spare us your delusions. This has nothing to do with our host and everything to do with your guilt. The moment you feel absolved, you will return to the status quo and forget he exists.” It motions to his children. “You have plenty of children here to drown in your need for forgiveness, surely you can make do with one of them.”

Then, it leans closer towards him, a smug look adorning its face.

“Also, Y/N belongs to us. He has the moment he fell into our cavern and will continue to until the end of time. Attempt to take him from us and you will suffer the same fate as those three thugs who left him for dead.”

It’s then another mystery gets solved: the slaughter at My Alibi. The three men in the back of the dining room who looked like they had gone through a meat grinder. That was your doing and they had been the ones to kidnap you and leave you for dead.

While he never advocates for killing people, he’s more than happy to make an exception for them. If they tried to kill you, they deserved to be slaughtered.

He only wishes they were still alive so he could pay them a visit before being turned over to Red Hood.

“We’ve fought plenty of Metas in the past. Do you really think you’ll be any different?”

“We have the knowledge and wisdom of countless people over the course of four-hundred years, all of them at the disposal of our host. You still think of him as that timid little thing from all those years ago, but he has become so much more since our joining. You believe yourselves superior than the rest of the general population, but you will find our host far surpasses you in every respect. He also possesses one thing your past adversaries never will.”

“And what’s that?”

“Unbridled hatred towards you.”

He wants to laugh at that. This thing must not have watched too carefully if it thinks people like Joker, Penguin, Poison Ivy, and so many in Arkham don’t hate his guts. He’s spent years being cursed at by all of Gotham’s rogues and beating all of the Riddler’s countless murder attempts to know Batman is at the top of many people’s Most Hated lists.

“If you don’t think half of Arkham doesn’t have dart boards with our pictures on them, you’re not as smart as you think you are,” Steph mocks.

“We do not doubt the genuine animosity the inmates hold towards you, but they are too far gone to imagine a life without any of you; you have foiled many of their crimes so many times, it has become one of the few constants in their lives. Every time they are put back in Arkham, they devote their time to coming up with their next attempt to best you until it is the only thing they care about. If any one of them were to ever defeat you, they would eventually realize how empty their lives are without you and their victory would soon sour.

“Joker would be a perfect example of this as he was as obsessed with you as you were of him.”

As much as he hates to admit it, the talking pile of mold is right. The clown made it clear that as much as he hated Batman, he was just as obsessed with him, going as far as to go after any criminal that took up too much of his time, Harley included in that.

And Bruce was just as obsessed with Joker, coming up with countless contingencies to counter any plot his sick and twisted mind could come up with, as well as devising security protocols and measures for Arkham to keep him contained and treatment plans to find a way possible bring his sanity back (assuming he had any to begin with).

“But our host is not like them. He has longed for a life free of you lot and now that he has that, he has no intention of surrendering it. Attempt to force him to return to this wretched manor and he will be more than happy to bring his fantasies of killing you a reality.”

He knows you hate them, but hearing that you hate them enough to fantasize about killing them cuts him deep.

“Please, I tried to kill Tim and Bruce back when I returned to Gotham,” Jason mocks, but Bruce can see Jason’s obviously concerned about hearing you thinking about killing them. “And Damian took a few tries at Tim. Everyone in this fucked up family’s got anger issues, it’s nothing weird.”

“You are kidding yourself if you believe you and that monster can a hold a candle to his fury. Your so-called anger is nothing more than a candle compared to the inferno that is his rage. You will feel the full might of his righteous fury, which will swallow you whole and leave nothing behind. And when you all are dead, you will be denied entry into our records.”

“So you don’t plan to absorb us,” Dick asks.

“Our host is the one who made that decision. To be added to our records is to be a part of us, and to be a part of us is to be a part of our host. He refuses to have you in his life in any way.” A small smile etches across its face. “We agree with his way of thinking. When you are gone, there will be nothing left and the world will forget any of you ever existed. And that is when our host’s revenge will finally be complete.”

It takes everything Bruce has to not flinch.

With this… thing inside you, what are you capable of? Would you really attack them with intent to kill? Would you really murder your own family?

“Make all the threats you want, creature,” Damian boldly states. “Nothing will stop us from bringing Y/N home.”

“Then this concludes our meeting, we suppose. We had hoped that we could convince you the best thing for you and our host would be to leave him alone and let the past rest, but we see now you all are too deep into your delusions to see reason. We look forward to seeing our host tear you apart, bit by bit.”

In the blink of an eye, the Megamycete turns bone white and crumbles like chalk, scattering all over the floor, leaving them all to stare at the remains in silence.

“So,” Alfred says, breaking the silence. “Was anyone ever going to tell me about a call regarding a random?”

The tension becomes so think, Bruce thinks he’ll start to choke on it. He racks his brain to come up with any answer, but doesn’t find any. At lease not one that won’t make Alfred pissed.

Clearly his children came to the same conclusion, because they remained silent as well, looking away or at the floor when he met their gaze.

“I have to say out of all the disgraceful things all of you have done throughout the years, this definitely takes the cake. I know Master Y/N wasn’t a priority for any of you, but I never would’ve dreamed you would allow him to be put in danger like being held hostage by common thugs.” Every word he says is dripping in venom. “I am absolutely disgusted with all of you.”

The words cut him deep and he deserves it. It was thanks to his incompetence that led to you being kidnapped, beaten to a pulp, shot in the head, and tossed into a cavern like trash and left for dead in a place no one would ever find you.

There’s nothing he can do that will ever make up for all that he’s done to you. He can apologize until he loses his voice permanently, spend all his money to buy you apology gifts, and subject himself to whipping by your hand until he’s lost every bit of his skin and he’d never scratch the surface of everything he’s done to you.

You came to him, a scared little child who just lost his mother and was forced to move to a massive city to live with a man he’s never met and all you wanted was for him to tell you that he loved you and that everything was going to be alright, but no, he was too caught up in his work as Batman instead of finding a healthy way of dealing with losing Jason.

But that’s not all he did, was it?

As much as he wants to, he can’t deny that he replaced you with Tim after the boy lost his parents. He suffered the same loss as you, but he gave Tim the help he needed while denying it to you. But that’s his fault, not Tim’s. His inadequacies are his alone to deal with, not any of his children’s (a lesson he keeps forgetting).

And he did the same thing several more times, bringing in more children and giving them all the love and affection you were denied as a child. He can’t help but wonder what went through your mind as you saw him spending time with them, both in groups and individually. And when you watched them hanging out in the dining room when they came home from patrol, enjoying themselves and each other while you were left alone in some room barely the size of a closet.

God, how many times did you wonder when you’d be asked to join before giving up?

When exactly did you give up on them?

And of course, he can’t forget about how he handled you and Damian meeting, another sign he was never fit to be a father. He knew Damian’s LoA upbringing left him unable to interact with others the proper way, but he still allowed him to see you (because he never considered your safety a priority) and allowed the boy to draw a sword on you, give you a scar on your face, and make several threats on you and insult your mother.

And what did he do after that?

Did he do the responsible thing by taking away the sword, scold the boy for his unacceptable behavior, and make it clear you were his brother and that he’s not allowed to hurt you?

No, of course not.

He did nothing but carry Damian off while allowing him to shout even more threats and insults, thinking nothing about the harm you just experienced and thinking Damian would just outgrow of his behavior on his own.

If he had to guess, it was probably that day you realized you didn’t matter to him and that Damian was the only one he considered a biological son.

Y/N, his baby boy.

He’s so sorry.

“This doesn’t change anything,” Bruce finally says, making his family turn their eyes to him. “We still need to bring Y/N home. Meeting this Megamycete just makes it more important we get him back to the manor.”

“And if Master Y/N fights you? Based off what you were able to gather from both crime scenes, this Megamycete appears to make him a formidable opponent.”

“We can find a way to neutralize it,” Tim chimes in, motioning to the crumbled remains. “I’ll analyze the remains to find a weakness.”

“And if that’s not enough, it said it has roots all over Gotham,” Barbara adds. “I can use the Clocktower to locate the closest sample.”

“Say you manage to subdue Master Y/N and rid him of the Megamycete. What then?”

“Then we make it clear he’s a part of our family now. And we’ll keep telling him that until he believes it. And when he does, we’ll give him the love we should have given him.”

Alfred looks at him before glancing at his children, all of them nodding in agreement.

“I shall hold all of you to that promise. We have a second chance to right our wrongs. I highly doubt we’ll be given another. But don’t think for a second this conversation is over.”

And with that, the butler turns on his heel and promptly makes his way out of the cave, clearly still furious at them.

“Alright, everyone,” he says, getting their attention. “We have work to do. Barbara, get to the Clocktower and start searching for the Megamycete’s roots. Tim, start analyzing the remains and see what you can find. And be ready to receive new samples. The rest of you, be ready to go out and retrieve the roots.”

They nod and set out to work, leaving him with his thoughts.

Fuck, after hearing all that, his mother probably sees him as a failure now. He had so many opportunities to make this right, but he being the complete and total fuck up that he is, missed them, leaving you all alone to fall into the hands of low-life thugs and a sentient mushroom.

He balls his fists so tight so tight he draws blood, but not caring at the pain or the drops of crimson falling onto the cave floor.

All he had to do was be there for you, love you, tell you he’d always be there for you, but he couldn’t do that. When he first learned of you, he was shocked to hear that he had actually been stupid enough to not take precautions to prevent getting a woman pregnant and actually thought you were an inconvenience, blaming you for something that wasn’t your fault. You hadn’t asked to be born, you didn’t ask to lose your mother in such a tragic way, and you sure as hell didn’t ask to be given to a man who had no right to be called a father.

He—

No, this line of thinking isn’t doing him any favors.

He takes a deep breath and releases it, throwing all his thoughts and emotions into a dark corner of his mind and locking them behind a massive door (like he always does instead of dealing with them in a healthy way). He’s done the same thing to so many other thoughts and feelings, what’s the harm in doing it now?

What he needs to do now is find a way to deal with a Megamycete and figuring out a method of getting close to you to administer it so they can bring you back home. While that’s already an uphill battle, the true war will be convincing you that they’ve changed and that you need to come back to the manor and live with them.

You’re his son and the brother to his children. And as much as you want to deny it, you have Wayne blood coursing through your veins, tying you to him and Gotham. You belong here, by his side.

And when this is over, he’ll throw the largest gala Gotham’s ever seen to show his love for you.

He’ll do whatever it takes if it means having you back home so h and your siblings can bathe you in their love and affection.

Even if it means taking away your powers and dragging you back here.

Like he said, he’s not a good person.

Tag List: @space1crow @lunaluz432 @type-ink @bat1212 @eyeless-kun @deathbynarcisstick @minkyungseokie @orbitingtraveler @1s3v3n1 @nosyrobin @roseytheteacup @bunbunboysworld @kitty-from-daaaa-voidddd @feral-childs-word @phoenixgurl030 @soriansick @hellcatsworld @bellethesleepypotato @prettyboys247 @marsmabe @exactlynumberonekryptonite @paolexsstuff @fantasyhopperhea @c0l1fl0r @ellaprime7 @starryperson @kore-of-the-underworld @kiarst @vanessa-boo @moxiemy @ratchetprime211 @greatwhisperspaper @tatsuri-zomushiki @bunbunbread @starsdotalk @luna57765 @solelifauna @jsprien213 @diejager @lizz-lrm @v0idl1nq @chericia

[haven-gum-rockrose]

bruh this weekend has been wild - not substantially: nothing bad has happened - just mentally: brain has not been great.

[kissedsuns]

♥︎ 𝐂𝐑𝐀𝐃𝐋𝐄𝐃 𝐈𝐍 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄, lando norris

fem!reader. kissing. pure fluff. pet names. swearing. a lot of touching. established relationship. lando is in desperate need of comfort as per usual. ₊ 𓂃 masterlist.

life isn’t always just sunshine and rainbows, and more often than not, lando is hit with the cruelty and misery in living. it’s as if he’s falling into an endless pit of despair, with loneliness becoming an unwelcome but familiar companion. all he needed was someone to lean on, and thankfully, you have always been there for him.

you’ll immediately notice how low his spirits are and how it looks like he’s just not in the right headspace after he suffers yet another tragic race weekend.

it wasn’t until late at night when lando had finally returned home to you. he had dark outlines around his sad eyes, a frown tugging at his lips that were chewed raw, but regardless, he seemed to be in one piece. the sight of him made you run into his firm arms the moment he came through that door, which took your boyfriend by surprise.

his arm looped around your waist, pulling you closer as if he couldn’t bear the thought of letting go. the scent of his clothes worked to steady your nerves. “i missed you like crazy,” you squeezed your eyes shut.

“impossible, baby,” he murmured as his fingers traced soothing lines along your backside. “i couldn’t stop thinking about you.” it was all he could manage past the heavy lump in his throat. he was holding himself on a single thread, deep breathes and hefty swallows as he continued his soothing motions.

his name rolled so naturally from your tongue as you reached for him, catching his wrist before he could retreat to his gaming room to drown in his emotions.

“are you okay?”

the question hung in the air, though you already knew the answer. his sharp inhale and shaky exhale betrayed the effort it took to pull together a facade. as he turned to face you, his jaw clenched slightly, but his dull eyes — shining with unshed tears, told a very different story.

“just feelin’ a bit tired,” he muttered, speaking in half-truths. the quick smile he offered you felt like a blow straight to the chest, small and devoid of any warmth.

you spoke his name again, this time softer, brows knitted with equal parts skepticism and concern.

“i’m fine,” he insisted, “really.”

and that was the last you saw of lando for hours.

the night wound down fairly quick, and you felt sleep tugging at your heavy eyelids, signalling it was time for you to head to bed.

you rubbed at your reddened eyes, too tired to fight it any longer — a few minutes of rest couldn’t hurt. lando would join you under the covers eventually. he always did.

you shifted in bed, fluffing your pillow until it was just right. you curled onto your side, staring at the empty space beside you. the side of the bed where lando’s presence was blatantly absent.

snugly wrapped in the silky, soft blankets, an uneasy feeling settled over you as your weary voice broke the quiet of the room, spelling out your boyfriends name to yourself.

“lando, lando, lando,” you whispered, voice muffled by the blanket. “oh, what do i do?”

you tossed and turned late into the night as your mind played a relentless game of ping pong with itself. silly questions bounced back and forth as you tried to figure out exactly what to do.

what could you even say? what if he didn’t want to see you right now?

with a frustrated huff, you tore the sheets off your body and wobbled out of bed without much grace. he still hadn’t come to bed, so you decided to take matters into your own hands.

with a few gentle knocks, you called his name. no response. you tried again, a little louder this time, but were met with nothing but silence and a gross feeling bubbling in your chest once again.

with a deep breath, you carefully jiggled the doorknob, easing the door open just enough to peek your head through the gap.

your big eyes scanned the room curiously before landing on him, curled up in his gaming chair with his knees tucked up tightly to his chest.

your voice is meek and barely audible when you cooed. “baby. c’mon, wake up f’me, lan,”

you reached out to brush a stray curl from his forehead and twirl it delicately between your fingers before letting your thumb glide softly across his cheek.

lando’s eyelashes fluttered open for the first time post-slumber, and he scrubbed his face with his hands to try and wipe away the tiredness which was still evident on his handsome features.

“wha—? oh, um…” his head lolled back and forth as his eyes struggled to adjust to their surroundings. “hey, baby…”

“you fell asleep in your chair,” you crouched down beside him. the monitors in front of him were dark now, the game long forgotten as his body had finally given in. “been out for hours.”

he groaned, his legs dropping to the floor as he blinked sluggishly at you. “i jus’— i was so—” he paused, letting out a heaved sigh.

“shh, shh. i know, baby, i know.” your hand moved to his shoulder, giving it a gentle squeeze. “let’s get you to bed, yeah?”

“hmf, bed sounds nice…” he moaned tiredly as his head dropped to your shoulder, nestling into the crook of your neck.

you brought a hand to the base of his scalp and lightly dragged your nails across the skin.

it was like warm drizzles of syrup, your touch sinking into him as he absorbed your sweetness. 

you could see the toll the weekend had taken on him—the dark circles under his eyes, the way his shoulders sagged.

“i love you,” you assured him, not expecting a response as you just wanted to let him know someone was on his side, no matter how much he convinced himself otherwise.

you were the only one who looked at him with such pure adoration, the only one who made him feel like he truly had a purpose. “i, for one, think you’re amazing, lan. you don’t just sit around waiting for things to happen; you’re so helpful, and so, so kind—to me.”

lando’s eyes remained on his hands that laid on his lap, palms sweaty from excessive nervous rubbing.

you could tell that he was trying his very best not to cry. unfortunately, his glassy eyes and wobbling lips were giving himself away.

“i don’t know what’s wrong with me. i just feel so fucking miserable sometimes.”

you cupped his cheeks and kissed him. “there’s nothing wrong with you, sweetheart. jus’ feeling overwhelmed, that’s all.” you kissed him again. “and that is absolutely normal.”

lando stirred slightly when he felt you brush his curls back, his head lolling to the side in content.

“lando,” you were going to try your best to sweet talk him into getting up. “you can’t fall asleep here, baby.”

he made a faint sound, somewhere between a hum and a sigh with his lips parting as though to protest but not finding the energy to form words.

“come on,” you cooed, your other hand steadying him by the shoulder when he swayed slightly. “how ‘bout we— mmf— get you in the shower, hm? you’d like that, right?”

lando’s feet shuffled weakly against the floor as you guided him up.

when you sat him down on the closed toilet lid, he leaned forward — elbows resting on his knees, his head dipping low like he was about to doze off again.

“hey, hey, hey! woah there, big guy.” you scratched his head soothingly “stay awake for me, please, honey.”

you helped him shrug off his hoodie, your fingertips grazing the warm skin of his arms as you pulled it over his head.

once the warm water from the shower began to fill the small space with steam, you carefully helped him inside. he leaned against the wall, letting the water run over his shoulders and down his back in hopes that it would wash away the horrible weight of the day.

you waited patiently by the bathroom counter for the water to shut off, until eventually lando stepped out. a fluffy towel sat snug around his waist, leaving very little to the imagination as your eyes shyly trailed down to his v-line.

“c’mere,” you reached out for him. “gotta brush those pearly whites.”

he cringed at your teasing words, but lando followed without question. he positioned himself between your legs as you grabbed his toothbrush and carefully squirted a glob of toothpaste across the bristles.

you held the toothbrush out to him, but when he made no move to take it, you simply sighed, feeling more amused than frustrated.

“open,” you ordered, and he obeyed, his lips promptly parting when you tilt his face upward.

trailing the brush along his teeth, you made sure to brush either side of the gums until reaching the raw spots at the back. you swiped the toothbrush across his bottom teeth one last time before pulling back.

“now spit,” you tapped his chin.

lando bent forward, spitting into the sink and letting the water wash away the suds as he rinsed his mouth. when he straightened again, he looked at you with sulky eyes and lips tinged pink from all the scrubbing.

“alright, time to rest those pretty eyes,” lando’s eyes softened as your sweet voice ran like warm honey in his ears. “i think you’ll sleep well tonight.”

he slowly nodded his head. you’re such a sweetheart, lando thought.

your fingers laced through his as you guided him out of the bathroom and back into the bedroom where he could change into his boxers. you followed suit as he crawled into bed, draping the covers over his body before latching onto you like a koala.

“i love you so much, lan,” you pressed a kiss to the top of his head. “you did me so proud out there.”

the reassurance soothed lando enough for him to glance up at you with big eyes, teeth catching the flesh of his lips. “you really think so?” he asked you like he needed an answer in order to believe it.

“of course,” you responded, full of confidence. “mistakes happen, sweetheart. you’ll come back stronger.”

in seconds, lando was pretty much out. your soft stroking of his hair paired with the occasional whispers of sweet nothings in his ear had him drifting in and out of sleep. his arms stayed wrapped around your figure for the rest of the night, and you didn’t mind sacrificing your own sleep to make sure he was resting peacefully—because if anyone deserved it, it was him.

your index finger trailed softly down his nose, and you couldn’t help but smile as his eyelids twitched each time you reached the tip.

“goodnight, baby,”

“mmm… g’night, nngh…”

yeah, he’d definitely be sleeping well tonight.

©KISSEDSUNS 2024.

[misserabella]

thristy for you

vamp! spencer x fem! reader

summary; after being experimented on, spencer starts to feel really strange, what happens when myth becomes reality for him?

cw; +18 content! minors dni!, hospitals, mentions of needles and experiments, blood tests, blood (duh), a smidge of angst, blood drinking, aphrodisiac effects, reader and spencer basically being in heat, hair pulling, lots of biting, tit and nipple play, dry humping, fingering, oral sex (r! receiving), piv sex, unprotected sex, creamp¡e,…

a/n; i’m a little sad with the result but i thought i should post it

the hospital lights are burning him, his skin feels like it’s on fire, and he’s in so much pain spencer thinks he might die.

his team had finally found him, after three horrid days of the experiments carl peters had put him through. he had been prodded with so many needles, inyected with a handful of different substances… he had lost count of the times the unsub had woken him up for another new round of tests, putting burning lights to his pupils, taking his dna, taking blood samples, opening his mouth in search of something spencer had no idea of…

and now, he was being treated at a hospital that had no idea what was wrong with him. they’d tried everything, had gone through every single test and still… nothing. everything came back clear. so why? why was he feeling this way?

at least you were there for him, holding his hand. his beautiful girlfriend, who was now crying because of him, because of his unexplained suffering.

“don’t cry…” he shivered, squeezing your hand.

“how can’t i? you’re in pain.”

“i’m okay. i’ll be okay.” he promised.

more like… he lied.

things only got worse after that.

spencer was weak, and dizzy all the time. his skin would burn easily under the sun, for which he had to wear lots of sun screen, and if he stood too much time under the heat, he would get this awful migraines that would leave him bed-bound for the rest of the day.

he couldn’t understand. couldn’t understand how he’d gained strength, his body winning muscle he had never had, or speed, catching unsubs in just two strides of his legs, or how his sight had healed, his glasses now making him see blurry.

he could hear things clearer, see things better… he could see better in the night even, when he felt more active, reading and reading in search of answers. nothing. absolutely and utterly nothing.

he thought he was going crazy, even more when he started to smell you everywhere. you could be meters away from him at the bullpen and he could smell your perfume, the natural scent of your soft and warm skin, hear your heartbeat, hear the way your heart pumped blood through your veins.

he couldn’t eat. he couldn’t sleep. he was scared. scared for himself and for you.

what if he had turned in some kind of monster? what if he would hurt you without meaning to?

he took the couch endless nights to keep you at an arm’s length. to keep you safe. but he too was weak, and missed you.

so here you were, late at night sharing your bed.

“i’ve missed you.” you muttered as you pulled him closer, feeling the tension in his body. he seemed to be containing his breath.

you were killing him.

“i’ve missed you too, angel.” and he had, he loved you with his whole heart, but this closeness would be the end of him.

your fingers raked through his hair. “you’re so tense, spence, relax…” you whispered. “it’s just me.”

yeah, that’s the problem.

he was surrounded by you, by your smell, your presence. he couldn’t scape.

did he wanted to?

he subconsciously sought more of you, pulling you closer, pressing you against his chest, and buried his face on the conjuncture of your neck and shoulder, humming when your smell heightened. you sighed when you felt his lips caress your skin. his hands tightened around you and he felt hunger. a hunger that he’d never felt before. the sound of your heartbeat reverberated through his head, through his entire body.

“baby…” he almost whimpered as his tongue licked a stripe up the vein on your neck. he could almost taste you. he felt a pain on his gums, and then there was relief.

and before he knew it, he was biting down, hard, on you. all breath left your lungs at the momentary pain before pleasure filled your veins. spencer moaned when it hit him. warm, sticky. gulp after gulp of your blood filled his mouth before he recognized what was happening, what made him scatter away from you in a hurry.

“oh my god. baby, i’m so sorry.” you looked at him with glassy eyes, mind fuzzy with the after effects of the bite. a pang of hunger hit spencer at the sight of droplets of blood falling down the mark on your neck. “what have i done?” he said, his voice full of panic.

his mind conjures all the proof: speed, sight, hearing, strength, weakness under the sun, unnatural hunger and now…

fangs. spencer had fucking fangs.

“it can’t be.” he muttered to himself. it was supposed to be mythology, not reality. vampires were not real. and yet…

“i’m a monster.” you stared at him, at the blood dripping down his chin and staining his lips. you should’ve felt embarrassed at the pang of desire that went in between your legs.

“spence.” you whined his name. he was too far away. and you were feeling fuzzy, too hot, too needy. too turned on. you should be scared. should be asking questions. but all you wanted in that instant is for him to bite you again, to continue making you feel this good.

he stared at you, at the way your nipples pushed against —his— your tee-shirt, how your pupils were blown, how your smell had changed, pheromones filling the air. he had read about this. had read about myths of the bite of a vampire having aphrodisiac effects on their pray so they wouldn’t escape. he went back to you, one of his cold hands cupping your cheek, the feeling of it cooling your own burning skin making you sigh.

“are you okay?” he inquired.

“i don’t know… feels… weird.” you muttered, trying to make him understand, he looked at you as if he were expecting more. “i want more.”

“you want more?” you nodded.

“i want you to bite me again.” his whole body turned cold before turning hot.

“no.” he shook his head. “i can’t.”

“spence…”

“you don’t understand, i will hurt you. i won’t be able to stop.”

“you already did it once.” “also, hasn’t it made you feel better? less dizzy? does your head still hurt?” you inquired and… indeed, he felt better. “you need this, spence. and i wanna give it to you… please?”

that broke him.

“promise me you’ll tell me to stop if you want to?”

“what if i don’t want to?”

“jesus, sweetheart.” he was quick to top you, his hips slotting in between your open thighs, his lips on yours. it was a messy kiss, wet, all tongue and teeth as you took from the other. “you don’t know how hard it’s been… with you smelling like this all the time… tasting like this.” his lips moved to the bite on your neck, licking the pouring blood from your skin. “so fucking sweet…” and then his fangs were back at breaking your skin again, making the two of you moan, you at the wave of pleasure that hit you, and him at the taste of your blood flooding his mouth once again.

your hips rutted upwards against him subconsciously, and spencer groaned, thrusting down against you in answer, what made you whimper. “god…” your fingers laced on his hair once again to pull him closer. “don’t stop, feels so good…”

“i’m sorry, fuck, i’m so sorry, i can’t stop…” he mumbled.

“don’t. just don’t.” you moaned as he whimpered, rutting against you. his hands went to your tee-shirt, his new awakening strength tearing it apart in one swift movement, exposing you to his hungry eyes. his tongue licked at the bite mark before his lips trailed down to your chest, fangs leaving new marks in your clavicles. you pulled at his shirt. “fuck. what have you done to me?” you inquired him in a whine, your back arching. spencer’s hands found your breasts, toying with your nipples before his mouth latched into one of them.

“i don’t know. i’m sorry.” but he was just as gone as you were, high on your blood. he was so hard. so needy. so turned on it physically hurt.

“need you.” you pleaded and he hummed around your nipple, flicking it with his tongue, sucking with his lips and letting it go with a pop before answering.

“tell me what you need.”

“your mouth. please.” he was quick to move downwards. pressing kisses down your stomach until he was finally face to face with your throbbing cunt.

he kissed at your inner thigh, sinking his teeth on your flesh once again, making your back arch as he drank. your hands found his hair to keep him there, writhing underneath him as he hummed. then, he licked the bite clean and moved towards your core.

“god. you smell so good…” he said as he pressed a kiss to your drenched panties, his tongue licking up the cotton and making you whimper. “just thinking about how good you’ll taste is gonna make me cum.” he groaned.

“spence… please…” you tugged at his hair, making him moan as he licked at you with your panties still on, drenching them even more with his spit. he humped the mattress, looking for relief before his fingers found the cotton and pushed it aside.

“so pretty…” he muttered at the sight of you, clit swollen, drenched folds and twitching entrance. and then he was diving in. a silent moan made your mouth fall open, your back arching as he licked a long stripe up your folds to your clit, groaning at your taste before sucking on the bud. he could cum like this, with his tongue fucking into you and his hips thrusting against the mattress.

“spencer…” you moaned when one of his fingers plunged inside, thrusting into you slowly, deeply as he circled your clit with his tongue. “god, fuck, don’t stop.” you were so sensitive due to the bite’s effect that just a few more flicks of his tongue will have you coming undone.

and so he didn’t stop, not until your moans got higher in volume, your grip on his hair tightened, your walls clamped around his now two fingers and you came with a scream, your hips fucking against his tongue as he fucked you through it.

when he pulled his fingers out of you, he brought them to his mouth to lick him clean, what made you absolutely feral and made you scram over to him, meeting him in a hungry and desperate kiss. you could taste yourself on his tongue, the juices of your blood and your cunt mixing heavenly, pulling from his shirt until he was rushing out of it. your mouth watered at the sight of his now more muscular body. you kissed at his jaw, at his neck, at his chest, as your hand came down to his throbbing cock, palming him though his boxers.

“fuck…” he cursed, his dick twitching at the contact, hips searching for more and thrusting against your hand.

“you’re so hard…” you sighed, and moved with him as you pushed at his chest, making him flop back onto the bed to get on top of him, not before getting rid of your soaked panties.

“only for you, angel. fuck.” he groaned as you sat yourself on him, rocking your hips against his, humping his clothed cock in heat.

“want it inside.” you muttered against his lips, and he groaned again, nodding. you helped him get rid of his remaining clothes, his throbbing dick resting against his stomach, head beaded in precum and rosy.

you didn’t waste any time in taking him in your hand and aligning him with your entrance, pumping him twice —even though he didn’t need it— before sinking down onto him. the two of you moaned at the feeling, him at your tightness and you at the fullness that he brought you.

“oh, fuck.” his grip on your hips subconsciously tightened, bruising your skin, but you didn’t care. you needed to move. and so you did.

the first jump on his cock was heavenly, it getting better as you found your rhythm, your tight cunt gripping him with every up and down.

“shit, baby. you feel so good. so good…” he moaned, kissing you, wet tongue pushing into your mouth. you corresponded, the kiss being so messy, spit dripped down your chin.

“spencer…” you moaned. “bite me.” you went harder down on him as his tip bumped against your g spot, your moans hiking on volume as his lips found your neck.

“you want me to bite you, baby?” you nodded.

“please…” you pleaded.

“whatever you want, angel.” he replied before giving you what you wanted, the wave of pleasure had you screaming.

“fuck. i’m gonna cum.” you cried out, continuing your movements with the help of spencer, since you had started to get sloppy. he groaned against your neck and rose his hips to find yours, fucking into you. with a couple more thrusts he was easily bringing you to your orgasm. you screamed, hot white pleasure hitting your body, vision blurry as wave after wave hit you.

spencer moaned when he felt you clench around him, walks pulsing around his cock. he moved away from your neck and continued to fuck into you, fucking you though it.

“i’m close.” he murmured, and you moaned. “where do you want it?”

“inside please, cum inside.” you begged, and that was it for him, with one, two, three more thrusts spilling into you with a moan.

his load was creamy, heavy and warm, filling you up to the brim.

“fuckfuckfuckfuck” he cursed over and over again as he rode it.

after the high went away, the two of you found yourselves panting to try and get your breaths even once again.

“are you okay?” his instincts kicked in, his hands cupping your cheeks.

you smiled, kissing his lips softly.

“never been better.”