#ghost's posts

[legacywagonfanzine]

believe me it'll be BIG FUN!!

this post has far too many notes for my taste... and most of them about christine??

wide smile, high style that's me! after seeing this zine's popularity...

although you protest your disinterest, i know clandestinely... you should go look at our zine...

this has taken me 525600 minutes to write ough but currently its all i wanna do!

okay okay i'm done.. i think i am damaged... but check out our zine!! that's all i ask of you...

i promise i'm done for good! i've given up my life of being a space-age-bachelor-man!

(1. heathers 2.phantom of the opera 3.starlight express 4. wicked 5. rent 6. six (hehe) 7. heathers again 8. phantom again 9. wicked again 10. ride the cyclone) i'm so done.

hey!!! omigod you guys!!

joker? i harley (quinn) know 'er! but you could!! if you check out our zine!

hermie the unworthy would urge you to not to throw away your shot!

honestly he would rather watch the world burn then have that happen...

it could make you popular or it could help you be more chill... and it's exactly what the world needs...

who knows if we agree with him.. but step into our candy store and find out!! come down once more into our season two dndads zine! info in the pinned post!

(ref: title: legally blonde 1. joker 2. hamilton 3. mean girls 4. wicked 5. be more chill 6. ride the cyclone 7. heathers 8. phantom of the opera) (i'm a theater kid...) thanks @somethingfishysgoingon for the joker ref :D

[hauntingcryptids]

Back In The Old Cemetery

Dhawan!Master x Reader - Previous Gomez!Master x Reader

Summary - On the anniversary of Missy’s death, you go to a nearby cemetery in order to remember and honour Missy in some way. However, you keep running into a random man throughout the day who seems determined to talk to you.

Based On This Request - Anonymous said - “Recently read “Did You Miss Me?” on your old blog, honestly amazing. If you’re open to it, may I request a similar scenario between Dhawan!Master x Reader? Maybe where they reunite for the first time after Missy’s death and admit they both still love each other despite the regeneration?”

Warnings - canon typical violence, references to season 10, descriptions of character death, romantic loss, sadness/depression, let me know if I missed anything and I will add it

Word Count - 4593

A/n - Gender Neutral Reader (but is referenced to own and be comfortable with wearing makeup). Requested by this lovely anon! Use of Y/n. Proofread but not beta read. I hope that you enjoy this! :) 

This is loosely inspired by Hunter’s Moon by Ghost, primarily the second verse and just other Ghost songs and their vibe because I am obsessed with them.

Also, I’m sorry that this took so long. I was not having a great past couple of years. But I really appreciate the love for my old series(which I am slowly rewriting) and thank you so much for this request! I really hope that you enjoy this! :)

--------------------------------------------------------------

You felt like you were being watched. You had been feeling this way for a while now, at least for the past couple of months. You just chalked it up to a bout of heightened anxiety, however, due to the camera-filled and 24/7 news cycle-filled world that you now reluctantly called home. Life was so much simpler on The Master’s TARDIS. 

It was ironic that her space was so calming given the nature of The Master and her chaotic lifestyle, but Missy’s ship was. The previous life and relationship you had with her always quelled any latent anxiety you felt about your home planet and people. Your life, alone on Earth, without The Master could never compare to the time you spent with her. Without Missy, you only became more aware of how miserable Earth could be at times. And despite her disdain for the majority of Humanity, you could tolerate your people more effortlessly with Missy’s help than you ever could manage without her presence in your life. She helped you with so much, but now she was gone forever.

You never properly entertained the thought that you were actually being followed, but as Missy had told you often, you were naively unaware of your ability to attract curious eyes. Missy had meant that as a compliment, despite the ominous tone. That is how she became fascinated with you, after all; by observing your quirks and interests from afar until she finally made herself known to you. You were simply just anxious without Missy. Simply anxious about being in a messy world without your person to help you sort out the mess. You weren’t actually being followed, right? The Doctor, even though you weren’t close, would step in, wouldn’t she? Especially after what happened to The Master and how the news affected you, right? You were just anxious, is all.

But if you were being followed, it wouldn’t be Missy playing a little trick on you. It couldn’t be her. She’s gone and she would never be coming back for you. The likelihood is that either your imagination was getting to you, or an enemy of either The Doctor or The Master was out to get you. Or it was just some random human being a creep. But it definitely wasn’t Missy. She died: that’s what The Doctor told you. Missy died alone and without you there to save or comfort her. And you knew The Doctor wasn’t lying about the fact that Missy was gone forever because she would have come to reunite herself with you if she was alive. But again, Missy died. You had to keep reminding yourself of that fact: Missy is dead. She’s gone. She’s never coming to save you. Ever again. 

Today was the anniversary of when the newly regenerated Doctor informed you of the tragic news that Missy had died. The sentimentalist in you needed to mourn today, however, your plans to celebrate Missy’s memory added to your anxiety. You needed to honour Missy for yourself, but what if there was someone out there in your town, or the world, or the universe trying to get you? Today would be the perfect opportunity for an enemy to hurt you when you were already emotional and susceptible. 

Eventually, though, you did convince yourself to leave your apartment. Today was for Missy, after all, not you. When the date caught your attention a couple of weeks ago, the first step of your plan was to go to Missy’s old Human job from when you first met. You would be torturing yourself by doing this, but you needed to purchase two bouquets of flowers. After purchasing your mournful bounty, you would walk to the nearest cemetery. Then, at the cemetery, you would leave one bouquet in remembrance of your beloved Master while taking the other bouquet home with you to memorialise Missy there as well. You even considered preserving it so you could have an idol of memories for longer.

Looking back on your history with The Master, it was probably an incredibly bleak omen for your relationship with her, but during Missy’s lunch breaks and on your travels home from work, the two of you would stride through the little parklike cemetery just around the corner from the shopping centre. Both of you would always be incredibly surprised by how beautiful the cemetery was; there was an assortment of trees that would offer ample shade to the gravestones and there was a winding cobblestone path fenced by flowers throughout. There was also a tall, cleanly cut hedge that bordered the whole property, alongside the iron gates delicately surrounding the cemetery. 

Missy genuinely loved that little cemetery. Before you knew that she was an alien, she would often say that this cemetery was the most beautiful thing on Earth, other than you. You always asked her how she could possibly know every place on the planet, to which she would only wink at you teasingly. After discovering her true nature, her statement made more sense but you still wondered why this cemetery was so special to Missy. She could travel anywhere she wished, in all time and space. It never failed to shock you that The Master, the infamous rogue Gallifreyian, would treasure such a simple place. So where else you would go to mournfully celebrate her beautifully chaotic life? In your mind, there was no other option.

When you walked toward the small town shopping centre where Missy cemented her Human facade, you wrapped your coat tighter around your torso. You were cold, yes, but you needed something to hold onto to brave all of the resurfacing memories. You sighed deeply when you entered the shop and then briskly moved to the shop's mediocre selection of flowers without looking up from your feet. 

The flower options and pre-arranged bouquets always looked more expensive and put together, even well into the winter, when Missy was working here. All of the bouquets she gave you were of the best quality. 

“Never less than the best for you, my love,” Missy would always respond with this line when you complained that you didn’t need anything fancy.

Missy might have lied about buying flowers from this little shop, now that you thought about it. But you would rather choose to believe that Missy manipulated her “superiors” into buying and displaying more expensive bouquets and flowers to enhance the reputation of the place rather than her lying to you.

“Excuse me?” A voice sounded to your side, tearing you away from your thoughts of Missy. You turned sharply to the person trying to get your attention. He was a man a couple of inches taller than Missy with mesmerising dark amber, mixed with coffee and chocolate, eyes that were filled with care. He was wearing a button-down, slacks, and a heavy-looking deep purple coat, which seemed a bit out of place given the weather hadn’t turned properly cold yet. Maybe the man just ran cold?

“I think you dropped this.” The man held out a case of lipstick, intending to return it to you. You were shocked, still disoriented from being ripped out of your thoughts. You accepted the lipstick with a curt ‘thank you’, ignoring the jolt of electricity that passed through you when your hand accidentally brushed against the stranger’s fingers.

You immediately turned back to the display of bouquets before you, gripping the case of lipstick tightly in your hand. You had assumed that the man had left to either look around the shop or to leave, but to your horror, he continued to stand beside you. He returned your item. So, why hadn't he left yet? You just wanted him to leave your side. You didn’t want to interact with anyone more than you had to today. Today was too horrible for you to pretend to be friendly with strangers. 

“Looking for anything specific?” The man asked after an agonising silence from the two of you just standing side by side in front of the flower display. He didn’t sound creepy like many people, usually men, sounded in situations like this, making you believe that he was actually curious. Even if he had good intentions, that didn’t dissolve your desire to be left alone, but you tried to be as nice as you could today.

“Something respectful. Not gaudy or obnoxiously and obviously meant to be gifted as an attempt to woo a Tinder match on a first date.”

“So like, cemetery flowers?” You whipped your head back to look at the stranger because of that question. Could he see your plan on your face or in your posture?  How could he tell what your intentions were? The stranger shrugged his shoulders, almost as if he heard your thoughts. 

“Yes, cemetery flowers.”

“These are quite smart. Whoever you are planning on visiting would love to have these on their grave.” The man plucked a bouquet wrapped in dark red wrapping from the shelf. The bouquet consisted primarily of fresh crimson roses and red salvia, with sprigs of baby’s breath and forget-me-nots to round out the assortment. When they were in shadow, the roses practically looked like dried blood, which thanks to Missy you knew what that looked like a bit too well. 

You paused, sucked in a breath, shocked by the man’s forward nature. Then you quickly grabbed the flowers, shoved the lipstick into your coat pocket and moved to purchase the bouquet without another word being given to the stranger. You hoped that the man would have left the store by the time you had finished purchasing the flowers, however, he stopped you once again by the exit of the shop.

“I hope you have a good time at the cemetery.” He said, smiling, as if this was an everyday occurrence, but, like before, you didn’t respond. You rushed out of the shop so overcome with a torrent of emotions. You just needed to get out of there. You didn’t even realise until you were far away from the shops and the stranger that you failed to choose a second bouquet for yourself. You hoped that the second bouquet would be one similar to the ones Missy would gift to you, but because of that strange man part of your plan for the day was ruined. You would have to go back to the shops tomorrow.

Eventually, you slowed to a meditative walking pace on your way to the cemetery. After many deep breaths, you managed to decrease and steady your erratic breath and rapid heart rate. You tried to forget your interaction with the stranger and just refocus your mind on Missy: the good, the bad, the happy and the sad, all of your time with her. You just wanted to be surrounded by the memory of your lover, in general, but also to remember her existence in the most reverent way possible. Even though the weight of her memory was a heavy burden to carry, you had to do this for her.

Halfway to the cemetery, the moon emerged from its hiding spot behind a cloud. It was still light out, but the full specialness of the day became apparent to you. The orangy-red hue of the night’s Hunter’s Moon was soft but you imagined that it would darken and grow deeper in tone the longer it hung in the evening air into the night. Apparently, even your solar system wanted to help you mourn the loss of Missy. 

Along with cemeteries, Missy loved abnormal moons. She would always drag you out of your apartment or plead with you to retrieve her from The Vault in a basement at St. Luke’s University so the two of you could go stargazing, or moongazing as it were. She loved Hunter’s Moons in particular, both because of the season they appeared in, but also because of the eerie atmosphere. 

You finally entered the cemetery through the tall and squeaky black gates that enclosed the cemetery just as it was beginning to grow dark outside. After walking along the pathway for a few minutes, you saw the familiar bench where you and Missy would always sit. 

Once you took a seat on the bench, you looked around the large, enclosed, cemetery. It had been a little over a year since you had been here last and you realised how much you missed this place. It truly was beautiful, in the gloomy and bittersweet way that many cemeteries were, but beautiful nonetheless. 

You wished that you could have something tangible to remember Missy’s death and life. A trinket or object of Missy’s that would now be yours. Like all of the families that had loved ones buried in this place, they had something more tangible than you did. You wanted what they had. Even though death is never easy, their situations were easier to comprehend than yours. Missy died on a spaceship in the future galaxies away from Earth. You had nothing left of her and it felt as if nothing ever happened because of it. 

Suddenly, you remembered the lipstick that the stranger had returned to you. You removed it from the pocket you had hidden it in in the rush of everything. You stared at the lipstick, curiously. The item definitely wasn’t yours. It looked like the one Missy would always use. But how could the stranger have this? Was Missy’s lipstick in your coat pocket this entire time? That didn’t make sense. You had worn this coat before and the lipstick wasn’t in any of the pockets. Not to mention the fact that Missy never went anywhere without her lipstick. It was unlikely that she would ever ask you to carry it for her.

You stared at the lipstick in your palm and reminisced about a random night when Missy was trapped on Earth. It was the night of a Hunter’s Moon, just like the one you sat under tonight. The Doctor graciously allowed Missy to leave The Vault for a night so the two of you could celebrate your anniversary.

The two of you went to a fancy restaurant that was far too expensive for you, but Missy took care of the bill as it was meaningless. Given her motto, any expense might have been excusable to The Master if you were the one asking for or needing something. After your meal, you somehow convinced Missy to go to a club. You bribed her by stating that she had never been to a Human club before. So why not go to one with you? Finally, the two of you drunkenly stumbled through your favourite cemetery under the light of the blood-orange moon while sharing a bottle of Asgardian mead that Missy had apparently stolen from the halls of Valhalla. At the time, you didn’t know whether or not to believe her because of how drunk she was, she easily could have been exaggerating. You later asked The Doctor about her story and to your delight, and The Doctor’s embarrassment, the story was real and unembellished. 

You and Missy had briefly stopped at the bench you were now sitting on. You probably wouldn’t have recognised the bench after your drunken night out except for the fact that Missy carved your and her names onto the arm of the bench. Your names were intertwined in typical Gallifreyian marriage writing, where the names are entwined together to signify the bond between those in the relationship. 

Despite the momentary rest, you had to beg Missy to return to The Vault that day because you were cold and your feet hurt. Missy never wanted that night to end but you promised to cuddle her for at least two hours before leaving for your apartment. You wished that you could stay, but The Doctor hadn’t allowed you to stay the night in The Vault. 

After much convincing, your stubborn alien lover eventually agreed to your deal. Before leaving the cemetery though, Missy reapplied her lipstick and then kissed you all over your face and neck. You had to return Missy to The Vault in that state, much to The Doctor’s disgust. It was a great memory and a great day that you wished you could replicate with Missy. It saddened you to no end that you would never be able to do that, though. The Master was dead. 

“May I sit here?” The voice of a man broke you out of your haze. No, not any man, the man. The stranger from the little shop that Missy used to work at was standing beside the empty seat on the bench.

“Did you follow me?” You shot back, angrier than you intended because he tore you away from Missy again. But this was all just too strange to not be angry about.

“Would a normal person follow a stranger into a cemetery?” 

“No, but whoever said that you were a normal person?”

“What’s the fun in being normal?” The man crossed his arms with a smirk. You turned away in order to hide your slight smile. He was fun, you had to give him that, even though it upset you to admit this.

“People might trust you more.” You said after you regained your composure. 

“The only person I want to trust me is you.” Again, you were shocked by the man and his forwardness, which appeared to be becoming a regular occurrence.

“Are you chatting me up in a cemetery?” 

“Is it working?” The man’s smirk grew confidently and part of you just couldn’t resist his smile. You sighed defeatedly. You scooted over a bit on the bench to be closer to the carved arm and to allow enough space for the stranger to sit comfortably. You looked up to the moon as the man sat down. The Hunter’s Moon was now a deep orange with tones of red around the edges. There was another strange silence haunting the air between the two of you, until the man ruined it. You were starting to become used to this stranger’s habit of randomly breaking silences.

“Are you here for someone?” He sounded kinder, softer, than he did what asking you questions at the shop.

“You ask a lot of questions.”

“That’s because you’re interesting.” The man bumped your shoulder with his. You hummed sceptically. This man, though intriguing, was like no person you ever met. He didn’t seem to care about social norms or what society deemed to be acceptable. Who else would flirt in a cemetery? Well, Missy would, but she was an alien. 

“I’m kind of here for someone, yes. Their body isn’t here, but I like coming here, or any other cemetery really, to remember my person. I haven’t been to this cemetery in a while though, memories and all that, but I knew that I needed to be here tonight. What about you?�� 

“Yes, I’m here for someone, too.” 

“I’m sorry.” You meant this genuinely. You didn’t know the man beside you and he had a propensity for behaving in an unorthodox manner, but he was still a person. You knew how hard it was to lose someone and you would never want to belittle someone’s grief. You locked eyes with this stranger for the first time since the moment in the little shop and held his gaze. You found it to be bizarre to feel so connected to a stranger but here you were talking to this man about Missy. You barely even talked about her to your best friends.

“There is no need for you to apologise, love. You weren’t the one to rip me away from the person I care about the most.” He bumped your shoulder again. Given the fact that you were facing each other now, you couldn’t take the intensity of being so close to the man. So, you looked away, flustered.

“Wow, I never thought I would have so much in common with a stranger in a cemetery.” You joked. You leaned over the arm of the bench slightly to move away from the man. You didn’t want to disgrace The Master’s memory in any way; it would be best to keep this stranger at a distance. To comfort yourself, you ran your hand over the carving Missy made, trying to commit the pattern to your mind to the best of your ability.

“You never know, you could meet the love of your life anywhere. A little shop, for instance.” The man still sounded positive despite your slightly uncomfortable demeanour. You liked this man, but you were worried that you were disrespecting Missy by even entertaining the idea of seeing someone else. How could you even be with someone else after The Master?

“Yeah, a little shop meet cute …” You traced the carving again absentmindedly while staring at the moon and the clouds passing over it. But the man once again distracted you from your sadness, though it wasn’t because of something he said like the many, many times before. Instead, the stranger pulled out a pocket watch that looked suspiciously too familiar. 

“Where did you get that?” You grabbed the man’s wrist and pulled his hand, and inadvertently him, closer to you in order to inspect the watch. It was old, properly old, not just decorated to look like an antique. It looked identical to The Master’s watch.

“Oh this, I’ve always had it. Since I was a child, an orphan, abandoned, found in the storm.” Missy had told you stories about her past, one of which was when she, he then, had been hiding in a Human form at the end of the Universe. You turned the watch over in the man’s hand and saw the circular Gallifreyian carved into the back of the object. You tentatively ran your finger over the writing, tears threatening to spill from your eyes.

“This is not possible.” You croaked, still looking at the watch in the man’s steady hand. How could the man beside you have Missy’s watch? Unless they survived. Unless she regenerated. But The Doctor said they died. She was certain that they died and would not be returning. Could The Master really be alive?

“Y/n, love, anything is possible.” The man whispered in your ear as you felt him move and place his arm around your back. He softly rubbed circles on your back but you didn’t feel it. You felt like your world was spinning and nothing was certain any more.

“It’s not you. It can’t be.” You shook your head. This couldn’t be possible. Your grip on the man’s watch and hand tightened when you finally looked up at him, scared. When you looked into his eyes, that’s when you began crying. He looked so worried for you, but there was hope and love laced into the look he gave you. You shook your head, still not convinced that The Master was really stilling beside you, holding you. But The Master nodded and smiled.

“It’s really me, darling. I swear on lipstick and Asgardian mead. Nothing in this Universe, any Universe, could ever keep me away from you.” The Master wanted to wipe your tears from your face, but before he could you jumped into The Master’s arms and practically knocked him over into the other arm of the bench due to the force of your hug.

“Master, is it really you?” You asked into his shoulder, not able to control the crazy mix of joy and sadness you felt. 

“Of course it’s me, darling. You didn’t really think that I would just leave you on this miserable planet alone, did you?” The Master caressed the back of your head and every so often placed a kiss on the side of your face. 

“But how? The Doctor said -” You shoved yourself away from The Master wanting a clear answer, but he cut off your excited questioning.

“The Doctor is often wrong, especially about me.” The Master smiled and winked at you triumphantly. You let out an ecstatic noise that you had never made before in your life and hurled yourself into The Master for another bruising hug.

“Can we go home now?” You mumbled into The Master’s purple coat.

“We?” The Master asked hesitantly.

“Yes, why not we?” You pulled back from The Master again with a worried look written on your face. You couldn’t help but be a bit worried after everything. The Master had just returned to you, you didn’t want to lose him again so soon.

“You aren’t bothered by my new form?” The Master questioned while gesturing to himself.

“No, you’re still The Master. You’re still my Master.” The Master smirked before leaning close to you. He cupped your face in his hands and pressed a kiss to your forehead.

“I knew that I loved you for a reason.”

“I love you so much. And I’ve missed you so much, Master.”

“Well, no more missing me. We are together now and nothing is going to rip me away from you ever again, and you are right, we should go home. It has been far, far, too long.” The Master removed himself from your arms and stood from the bench. He held his hand out for you, wiggling his fingers enthusiastically. You gladly accepted his offer and then proceeded to interlock your fingers.

“Before we get to my TARDIS, I should warn you that the ship looks quite different to how you will remember it.” The Master informed you as the two of you walked down the cobblestone path toward the gates of the cemetery. 

“That’s okay.” You said into The Master’s shoulder as you braced your body against his to withstand the massive gust of wind that blew through the gates of the cemetery. The rest of autumn appeared like it was going to be a cold one.

“Really? You’re comfortable with everything being so different. I thought that you would be having a more difficult time with this.” The Master shed his coat and placed it around your shoulders. 

“Change is easier with you, Master. And I would rather have you in my life in a different form than not in my life at all.” You cuddled into the rouge alien’s coat. He, like his previous regeneration, smelled of smoke and whiskey. Missy also smelled like cranberries, whereas this new regeneration of The Master slightly smelled like cinnamon in combination with the whiskey and smoke.

“My previous regeneration would have made fun of your sentimentality, but this regeneration loves the attention.”

“Good! There is a year’s worth of affection that you missed out on.”

When the two of you reached the door of The TARDIS, which now appeared as a large home rather than Missy’s preferred look of a wardrobe, The Master stopped you and caressed a hand down your face. His eyes, though very different than Missy’s, displayed the same devotion and love for you. Things change, but at the same time, everything stays. The Master was still your Master, just in a different package. And you still loved them, no matter what they looked like.

The Master finally leant forward and captured your lips in a passionate kiss filled with all the love and longing he held for you, as the night’s Hunter’s Moon cast a warm glow upon the two of you. There will be so much adjustment ahead of you both, but you know that you will be able to succeed and overcome the difficulties to come as long as you and The Master are together.

[ask-the-pale-elf]

(We are alone at camp the others all had some stuff they had to take care of in town) You're such a good boy Scratch.* pets him vigorously* Such a cute soft bestest boy aren't you? Yes you are! Astarion! Isn't he just the cutest?

The vampire spawn couldn't help but narrow his eyes at your affection towards the... dog. Ugh. He was barely a good boy at all, didn't even fetch the ball after one game of fetch. Weak. Pathetic. Barely a good boy at all.

Yet here you are lavishing the lazy mutt with all your affection, he couldn't help but sneer at it. What did the dog do to deserve all your affection? Huh? Be cute, wag his tail, loll out its tongue? If that's all it took to get you to roll over and be all over this damn dog then he would've done that ages ago-

Ahem. Whatever. He side-eyed you and Scratch, "... If you consider flea ridden beasts to be cute then sure. Let me know when you want better company."

(Insight Check: Successful!)

A small glint of jealousy flickered within his sanguine eyes, it only intensified when you called Scratch a good boy. Especially when you called the damn mutt bestest boy.

[the-ghost-king]

shhhhh calm down, it's going to be okay, you are going to get through this. go get an onion, caramelize it with some minced garlic in oil. add in day old rice and vegtables of your choice (if you would like). add in 2 eggs and soy sauce and mix into the rice after they start to cook. add some sesame oil and salt to taste. cook until the egg is scrambled in the rice, top with lemon juice. see look, it's better now, you've got fried rice and you didn't even need a shrimp to do it for you. and hey, if it's not better than at least you have some fried rice to eat until it is better. that's pretty cool!

[sonysakura]

Mystery Skulls Animated - Ghost (Oct 26th, 2014)

Ten years ago on this day...

[the-ferocious-kittyrose]

Simon gets a message from reader while he’s on base. It’s a video. The thumbnail looks like a blurred image of a store isle

Once he has a moment to himself, he’s able to sit back and finally check out what you had sent.

The camera pans down to show yours and simon’s two year old daughter. She has half a mini chocolate muffin clutched in her little baby fist and chocolate smudges on her nose and bright pink cheeks. She’s standing, staring at something out of frame.

The camera is a bit shaky and Simon can hear you trying desperately to hide your laughter.

“Baby,” you say, “baby, look at me.” You bend down to bring the camera closer to your daughter, who only turns to look at you for a second before going back to staring at the same spot out of frame.

“Who is that?”

Your daughter raised one of her chocolate covered hands to point towards whatever it was that had been captivating her the entire video. “Daddy.”

Simon here’s more of your pained stifled laughter and the camera follows your daughter’s gaze, revealing a cheaply made Halloween grim reaper statue, with dusty purple robes, a plastic scythe, and a hilariously misshapen skull face.

He reads the accompanying texts that had followed the video.

[She just started saying “daddy daddy” over and over and it took me forever to figure out what she was talking about]

[for a second I thought, “oh is he here?”]

[Im so dense lol]

[she really misses you ]

[I miss you too]

The next text was a picture of your daughter fast asleep in her car seat. Now cleaned of chocolate, she had replaced her muffin with a giant plastic rat that she hugged to her chest like a teddy bear.

[she refused to leave without it]

Simon smiles. It had been a long time since he had a family. People who loved waiting for him to come home.

Your texts had been sent hours ago, and he felt bad about not responding all day.

[that’s unfair. My mask is made of much better materials]

[I miss you both too. If everything goes right I should be home by Monday]

[and don’t call yourself dense]

Simon thinks for a moment, something eating at him about that video

[I wish she didn’t know about the mask. I don’t want her to see me that way]

You respond quickly, making Simon feel worse about his delayed reply

[Dont worry about that honey. She’s only two, and I think she only saw you wear in mask once once or twice. She’ll forget in a month.]

[She doesn’t see you as anything other than her daddy]

[her daddy and her jungle gym]

[lol yes that too]

[Im sorry I don’t have a lot of time. I’ll try and call you tomorrow]

[ok Im heading to bed now anyway]

[goodnight I love you ❤️]

[goodnight I love you too ❤️]

[machveil]

Roommate!Simon Riley that doesn’t correct people for thinking you’re dating. Simon’s minding the trolley while you grab a box of cereal at the store, idly standing by while watching people dip in and out of the aisle. when an older woman says you make a cute couple he just nods and says ‘thank you, ma’am’. he especially doesn’t correct someone when he stalks up behind you, a protective hand on your hip when they scoff and ask, “Is this your boyfriend?”

Roommate!Simon Riley that knows you like the back of his hand - ever changing, but still familiar at the end of the day. a new scar marring his knuckles? he’ll memorize what you like from that new café that opened down the block. a new nick on his wrist? he’s picking up that new movie you were gushing about wanting to see, a genre you wouldn’t necessarily choose usually - he’s ignoring how the main love interest looks like him. at the end of the day, some things never change, like how he’s memorized your smile and the way your nose scrunches

Roommate!Simon Riley that’s fallen into a comfortable pattern with you. your friends always say you act like a married couple, but you wave them off. so what if you guys are in the bathroom at the same time? you need to squeeze a shower in and Simon wanted to brush his teeth - besides, he can hand you a towel when you’re done. so what if you sleep in each other’s rooms? the damn AC is busted again, it’s not your fault Simon is as warm as a furnace and welcomes you with open arms

Roommate!Simon Riley whose favorite start to the morning is seeing you bleary eyed and groggy. your hair is messy, pillow lines across your cheek, and your t-shirt is askew - perfect. he doesn’t care if you have crud around your eyes, he doesn’t care if you haven’t brushed your teeth yet, he doesn’t care that you’re wearing his t-shirt— Simon pauses, eyes glued to you. his last name decorating your back�� maybe Simon does care about you wearing his shirt

[tired-all-the-time22]

14-Year-Old-Half-Ghost-Vigilante Daniel Fenton experiences first-hand the universal blunder of Fucking Around and Finding Out for the nth time

Friends and confidants Sam Manson and Tucker Foley are not amused.

[lapetitepatisserie]

cod × fem!reader ⋆𐙚₊˚⊹ ᡣ𐭩

The familiar sound of keys in the door alerted you to your husband’s return.

“My love?” he called, looking for you, boots making heavy footsteps as he made his way towards you and your child. His eyes soften once they land on you and your baby girl.

“How’s my princess?” he drawls, voice deep with exhaustion from work.

You look down at the child sitting in your lap, occupied with trying to fit a chubby foot into her mouth. A steady finger reaches underneath your chin, lifting it to meet his warm, intense gaze.

“I’m talking about this one.”

[whateveriwant]

Good evening, I can't stop thinking about Simon going brain dead as he fucks you :)

Like, just imagine. You're on your elbows and knees as Simon's hitting it from behind, when suddenly you feel something wet land on your back. You know it's not him finishing given the fact that he's still buried deep inside you, so you look back over your shoulder to see what the hell that was you just felt.

And when you turn around, the sight that greets you is one for the ages. There's Simon, eyes unfocused and glazed over, mouth hanging wide open in the most fucked-out expression you've ever witnessed. He looks like he's never had an intelligent thought in his life; like he's been reverted back to a primitive brain, whose only drives are to eat, breathe, and fuck.

As you watch him rut into you like a sex-crazed animal, it's then you spy the source of the mystery liquid dripping onto your back. There, dribbling steadily from Simon's ajar mouth, flows a thick stream of drool. It leads down from his bottom lip in long, viscous ribbons, landing and settling itself along the curve of your spine. If he even notices (which, by the look on his face, he's too far gone for such higher-order thinking processes) then he doesn't care. He just lets his spit pour freely from his open mouth, like some kind of wild beast that's got its eyes locked onto its next meal.

Simon is so mentally checked out that he can't even hear you as you gently say his name. No, all he can think about – all his shriveled little monkey brain can focus on at this moment – is how fucking good you feel around him and how fucking badly he needs to fill you up.

When Simon does finally cum, he can only manage a garbled string of grunts and groans that doesn't even come close to resembling human speech. After three, four, five thrusts as deep into you as possible, his whole body is shaking, and his trembling limbs give out.

He collapses on top of you without a second's consideration of his size, pinning you to the mattress beneath his warm, heavy frame. You can still feel him drooling a little as his face comes to rest in the crook of your neck, the mess on your lower back getting smeared between your bodies.

It's hard for you to breathe being trapped under Simon's weight like that, so you try lightly tapping him on the head to ask him to roll off you. Unfortunately, I'm afraid it's no use trying to gain his attention right now. You're going to have to give him a few minutes to collect himself, love.

The poor guy just fucked himself stupid, after all.

[bruciemilf]

Alfred honestly can’t say shit about Bruce bringing in strays, because what if the Waynes got him the same way?

I genuinely can’t recall HOW Alfred, British special forces extraordinaire, ended up working for Gotham’s (scary) sweethearts.

In my mind, he came to them bleeding.

There’s a tang of bitterness pooling in his gut. Soldiers don’t have friends. They have guns. And he’s all out.

Just when Alfred thought all is in peril, a tiny little hand gently covers a nasty bullet hole on his abdomen.

The first thing Alfred thinks about is: ‘Jesus, this kid has scary eyes.’

���Hi, Alfred.”

“…How do you—“

“Bruce! Jesus FUCKING Christ, I swear, I’m not paying for your ransom next time you run o—…What the fuck is that?”

If there’s one thing about Thomas that Alfred will never forget is his voice; The bass , so chasmic and powerful it could shake the whole world, and the burning care in his eyes despite his vulgarity.

Bruce, — who’s the tiniest bundle of a boy Alfred witnessed, is yanked up by his father’s strong hands, squeezed to his chest carefully. “Hurt,” he says. There’s a tiny, red handprint on Thomas’ shirt.

“Yeah, I didn’t notice,” Thomas mumbling, looking around.

Maybe local gangs? The bullet point is too precise, too calculated. “Who the hell are you?”

Alfred, with his raspy breath, says, “I’m the terribly rude bloke dying on your doorstep, I’m afraid. Alfred Pennyworth. At your service.”

For a guy who’s about to bleed his last, he sounds awfully sarcastic.

“Yeah, wise guy, no one’s dying on my kid’s birthday. Bruce, tell Dotty to prep up the basement. And tell your mama to get my Budlight out of the cooler. Jesus Christ.”

Alfred ends up hoisted on this man’s back. Thomas asks if he has anyone he wants to call? Anyone that’ll come pick him up? Anyone to bury him, if it comes to it.

Alfred whispers he does not.

Thomas sighs. “Well. Kid‘a been asking for a playmate.”

[legacywagonfanzine]

GUESS WHAT?

starting december 1st, Legacy Wagon Zine is opening submissions!!

the Legacy Wagon Fanzine is a zine devoted to season 2 of dndads. Our planned release date is March 26th, 2025. We will be accepting submissions from December 1st through late January/early February!

if you'd like to help out, i'll be pinning a list of submission choices on our main blog page!

[hauntingcryptids]

Pumpkin Dreams

Simm!Master x Reader

Summary - The Reader begs for some Autumnal decorations, but The Master is not a fan of The Reader’s plans.

Prompt(s) Used - Pumpkin Patch - A fic involving pumpkins, a pumpkin patch, pumpkin carving or Jack ‘o’ Lanterns and Ghoul - A fic involving decorating for Halloween or Halloween decorations

Warnings - None That I Know Of. If I missed something, then message me and I will add it here.

Word Count - 3082

A/n - Gender Neutral Reader. No use of Y/n. Not Requested. Proofread but not beta read. I hope that you enjoy! :)

--------------------------------------------------------------

The Master held a thousand years long (or however old he was) reputation for being cruel, demanding and authoritarian. His desired image was on full display in the title he gave himself alone, his multiple plans for universal takeover only proved a point. He always had to have his way; if people did not immediately listen, he would take what he wanted. He didn’t care who he hurt, who he killed, or how he left in the ashes of his destruction. Despite his carefully curated image, this longstanding reputation of The Master’s wasn’t always in line with his emotional needs. 

The Master could be kind, soft, and reasonable if in a safe environment with people he felt comfortable with. He showed you this softer side countless times and you knew he would show you his more raw, personal emotions again many times more in the future. The Master was kinder to you than anyone you had in your life previously. He would always rebuke your comparative praise by stating that the bar for Humans was in hell (a phrase he only used because you used it). 

He adored your praise of him, though, because The Doctor believed The Master to be incapable of any kind of thought and he loved proving the idiocy of his previous friend. But The Master did hate being compared to Humans and for anyone other than The Doctor to know this other side of his personality. The Master couldn’t help but hate you at first when you would occasionally run into him when he was pretending to be Human. After The Doctor ruined his plans again, The Master did take a chance on you. He hoped to manipulate you, though you ended up charming your way into the old Timelord’s hearts. He abandoned all of his plans to corrupt you (except for a little teasing) and strove to prove himself worthy of your kindness.

Since moving into The Master’s TARDIS, you became acutely aware of the divots and dividends stowed away and hidden behind many facades and trick mirrors in your alien companion’s personality. Despite the fruitfulness of his personality that he hid well, The Master still had to be convinced of very many things, especially the things that he did not think up himself. He was a proud being, inside and out. After much trial and error, you did learn how to craft manipulations of your own. By begging (prettily, as he described) or convincing The Master that he came up with an idea before you did, then you usually could end up getting want you wanted within the week. Your quickest attempt took 13 Earth days, which given how stubborn The Master could be at times, you took as a win. All you could do was hope that you wouldn’t have to fully manipulate your way into getting what you wanted this time. In your opinion, you had just a small request. At most, it would only take a small amount of begging, surely.

You bounced into the console room with a light step. This wasn’t the first time you attempted to convince The Master of something very Human in nature and you expected that it wouldn’t be the last. The Master had also been in a jovial mood recently, having plundered multiple pirates, squashed many rebellions on planets that he (previously to you joining him) ruled, and solved many childhood treasure hunts ‘in all time and space’ that the old scholars of Gallifrey placed on their students, expecting that they would never be solved. His cheerful nature resulted in less worry for you compared to some of the previous attempts where you ambushed The Master with questions on one of his bad days. But for the completion of your plan and The Master’s emotions, you did try to make yourself seem more carefree and unbothered. Based on previous attempts, you know that if you were too passionate or persistent there was the very probable chance that The Master would deny your request out of spite, which was contrary to the outcome that you wished to receive.

The Master didn’t look up from the console screen he was monitoring as you rounded the ship’s terminal. You had become used to the fact that he was usually aware of your presence, even though he wouldn’t interact with you first. So, you stood behind the alien and watched the screen he studied, unable to understand the potential seriousness of what your host was looking at. Tentatively, you placed your chin on The Master’s shoulder, allowing him the opportunity to initiate the conversation when he was ready.

“What do you want, Human?”

“What makes you think that I want anything?” The Master didn’t respond, he didn’t need to. All he did was turn his face in your direction with a blank stare and a raised eyebrow.

“Okay, I do want to ask you something.”

“What is it this time?” You huffed, slightly affronted that he would think you to be so superficial. But your reaction only caused The Master to chuckle. You paused for a moment before asking your question in an attempt to regain your composure in the presence of a nearly all powerful alien. 

“Can we get some pumpkins?” You asked the alien hopefully, bouncing on the soles of your feet absentmindedly. 

“Why?” The Master dragged out the word, which gave you hope. When The Master drew out all the syllables of a short (typically one-word) question, it usually meant that he was legitimately questioning your desires. If he were to answer with a curt ��why” or a fully articulate question, however, you learned that those options were basically a “no” as far as the alien was concerned.

“It’s Autumn. Halloween is coming up soon. They are nice decorations.” 

“No.” The Master spoke coldly. You couldn’t help but be shocked. You thought that you did everything correctly, or as well as you could given The Master’s sometimes (often) temporental tastes. 

“What? Why?” You pulled back from The Master’s shoulder and tried to look him in the eye, but he wouldn’t face you. 

“They go off. I don’t want mouldy squash in my ship.” The Master’s tone was reasonable, at least, as he moved around The TARDIS console to press more buttons.

“I will compost them or throw them away before they get like that.” You tried to your best to plead with The Master, but for some reason, you weren’t doing your best. 

“And if one gets lost in this labyrinth of a ship?” The Master’s head shot up to look you in the eye, and then he froze, waiting for your answer. His hazel eyes were piercing. 

“I won’t lose any of them.” You tried to sound convincing, but The Master’s faux sympathetic grin told you that you had not convinced the alien.

“My answer is still no.”

“Please. I’m not asking for 13-foot-tall skeletons or glitter garlands.” The Master couldn’t help but make a face at the thought of the presence of glitter in his TARDIS.

“It’s just a handful of pumpkins, Master.” Your alien host turned to face you again, this time with a triumphant smirk on his face. You hated that you knew that you lost this time.

“You need to work on your begging, Human.” You groaned, petulantly and stormed off back to your room for the day.

--------------------------------------------------------------

Many days passed with many stops periodically throughout time and space. Some were casual pitstops, others were more serious, but The Master hoped that the more places he took you, then the less focused you would be on your request to decorate his TARDIS. Every time he thought that you had forgotten your want or moved on from your pumpkin idea, you would not so subtly indicate that you still wanted to decorate The Master’s TARDIS with pumpkins. It didn’t help that his ship was conspiring against him and took you and The Master to many planets with pumpkin-like plants blooming and growing throughout.

During one outing, you had almost snuck a small gourd (or what you would call a gourd) onto The TARDIS through your bigger on the inside coat pocket. But The Master saw your sleight of hand and was aware of the item you stole from the planet. You weren’t aware of The Master’s knowledge, but the alien’s eyes had rarely left your frame as of late. He was always watching you. He wasn’t trying to be creepy (which he probably would been on Earth), he just loved watching you in non-Human environments. 

That was his excuse, though; The Master’s TARDIS, maturely, described The Master’s feelings as love. He loved your little quirks and the idiosyncrasies that made you you. Yes, you were Human, but if The Doctor used Humans as temporary comfort, then why couldn’t The Master find a constant companion in a Human? It was unlikely that you would ever be able to deceive The Master ever again because The Maser knew you; you consumed every fibre of his mind and soul. The TARDIS, self-satisfied in their accomplishment, knew that there was no turning back now. They helped you and The Master fully realise your feelings for each other.

The Master, upon the two of you arriving at the door of his ship, pulled you by your arm out of The TARDIS doorway before your foot could fall on the ship’s metallic floor. He held his other hand flat outward toward you as he stared down at you unblinking. You couldn’t help but pout; you assumed that you had gotten away with your theft. You sighed as you placed the alien gourd onto his palm.

“Nice try, Human.” The Master smirked, releasing your arm and allowing you to enter his ship. He then tossed the gourd over his shoulder before nonchalantly entering his ship. The Master then piloted the two of you away from the planet you had visited, while telepathically scolding his TARDIS for trying to aid you Humanly sympathetic. 

“I’m going to bed.” You spoke. Your voice sounded sad; The Master noted. He hated when you sounded sad, especially when he was the main cause of your depleted emotions.

“Fine. Dream your sweet pumpkin dreams, Human.” The Master tried to joke. It was evident that the alien failed to make you laugh, though, much to his disappointment.

“I really hate you sometimes.”

“No, you don’t.” The Master did feel your legitimately strong negative feelings toward him, but he chose to not dwell on the fact that he upset you for too long. Instead, he focused on attempting to form a plan to make you happier. He genuinely wanted to make you happy. If you temporarily felt defeated, he could handle your bad temper because he knew that he had so much more planned for you.

You stuck out your tongue petulantly. The Master responded with the same gesture before smirking again and wishing you a proper goodnight.

The Master hated seeing you unhappy. Normally, with others, The Master would keep refusing a person who wanted something badly enough to repeatedly ask, just to upset them more. With you, though, this routine was getting boring. A couple of denials were fine, it offered suspense, but he never wanted to treat you like just any other person. You were special.

Now The Master would have to plan something that would surprise you, something that would make up for his bad attitude. But he didn’t want pumpkins, squash, or gourds, Human or otherwise, on his ship except for the kitchen. He wasn’t even fond of having houseplants on his ship: which reminded The Master of something.

The Master recalled when he first invited you to stay with him on The TARDIS. However, upon hearing you say something, he almost told you to stay at your Earthly apartment last minute. You had surprised him by exclaiming that you needed to retrieve your bonsai tree. You had run off to retrieve the bonsai tree before The Master could stop you, having been weighed down by your many travelling bags. You surprised the alien again, though, when you arrived by his side with a Lego bonsai tree, not a real one, in your hands. The Master only sighed at the time, allowing the plastic tree into his ship without notifying you of his initial complaint.

That previous instance caused a ball to roll in his mind. You never directly said that you wanted real pumpkins. There had to be alternatives that wouldn’t decay and stink up his ship that would also make your wish reality. So The Master set to work.

--------------------------------------------------------------

You woke up despondently. Why did The Master have to be so fickle? You understood that The TARDIS was his ship, and he could allow or not allow whatever he wanted. But you didn’t understand why you couldn’t add some personal touches outside of your room. You weren’t even asking for decorative changes all the time, just around certain holidays that you liked to celebrate. If you were on Earth, and The Master was staying with you in your flat, you knew that you would allow him to add his own flair to communal areas. Did you just care about him more than he cared about you? Or was this just a simple miscommunication? No matter what was going on between the two of you, you were still upset with the alien.

You rolled out of your bed, yawned, stretched, and then rubbed the granules of sleep out of your eyes as you stumbled toward your private kitchen. You moved around the space on autopilot, unaware of the new decorations that appeared in your space overnight. You weren’t ripped out of your oblivious state until The TARDIS beeped frantically. 

You held a large mug in one hand, about to pour in your favourite hot, caffeinated beverage when she halted your actions. You questioned her, and she beeped again. She sounded astonished. You looked down into your mug and to your surprise you saw a small felt pumpkin. You placed everything in your hands onto your kitchen counter and plucked the pumpkin out of the mug. It was a cartoonish orange with delicate felt leaves attached to a dark green stub of a stem. The little item was so cute that you couldn’t help but smile from ear to ear. Finally, you looked around and saw that your room had been decorated with a variety of fake pumpkins. You understood why The TARDIS was so shocked. You walked all the way to your kitchen without noticing any changes whatsoever.

You excitedly ran out of your room, still holding the first pumpkin, and grew even more exuberant the more that you saw. In your sleep, The Master fully decorated his TARDIS with creative pumpkins. There were fake pumpkins of every colour, cloth jack-o-lanterns, and pumpkins decorated with famous artworks and interesting Halloween-themed designs. There were even pumpkin garlands hanging throughout the halls and on the walls. None of them were real pumpkins, there was no worry of them going bad. The Master even made sure that there wasn’t a hint of glitter on any of the decorations. 

You then began to search for The Master. You wanted to thank him for everything he did and all of the work he put into this. Eventually, you found him lounging in the library. He was reading on a sofa with his back facing yours, the stem of a pumpkin pillow only slightly visible over the back of the sofa. You ran up to The Master, as quietly as you could, and threw your arms around his shoulders.

“Thank you, Master.”

“Don’t mention it.” You hummed, disappointed, as you removed yourself from The Master. You were hoping for a different, more reciprocating, response. Maybe you weren’t as expressive and grateful as you could be. You wished that there was a way for you to meaningfully thank him. You squeezed The Master’s shoulders before rounding the sofa to sit across from the alien. The Master didn’t look up from his book. You looked away from the strange person before you, instead inspecting the decorations in the library from your seat. You smiled again at the decorations. Not because of the decorations themselves, but because The Master did all of this for you. 

“It looks really nice.” 

“It pains me to admit it, but yes, it’s nice.” The Master was staring at you when he spoke. He was watching you as soon as you looked away. He didn’t care about the pumpkins. They were a nice addition, for a short period of time, but he couldn’t care less if they were there or not. He was just happy that you were happy. You were still observing the new additions to your environment, but if you were looking at The Master you might have seen his mask slip. You might have seen his true feelings for you, if only for a second. If only you were looking at him.

“Maybe you should keep them even after the passing of the season?” You asked hopefully. 

“Just because you got your pumpkins, that doesn’t mean you are going to get everything you want around here, Human.”

“I’m not trying to get my way -” You turned to face The Master in an attempt to defend yourself.

“Sure you aren’t.”

“It just looks nice. It fits this space. And they won’t go off, so you don’t have to worry about mould.”

“No. I’m a renegade Time Lord, not a comic book villain.” The Master said coldly as he gracefully stood from the sofa to retrieve another book.

“Just one?” The Master sighed lightheartedly at your persistence. Is this how other people felt around him when he was dead set on something? 

“Your room is your room. Do what you want with it.” You congratulated yourself on the new victory, unaware that The Master could see you out of the corner of his eye. He couldn’t help but smile but he quickly covered it up with a smirk. He didn’t know how to directly tell you his feelings, he didn’t feel confident enough in his ability to communicate how he felt. At least The Master could still flirt in his own way, though; by teasing you and riling you up and surprising you with gifts.

“But I won’t make any promises to not throw all these pumpkins into a supernova as soon as the first of December occurs in your year on Earth.” 

“Master!”

[ask-the-pale-elf]

I thought you hated me. You always are mad at me for being so kind and you're always criticising me. How can you tell me now that you actually care for me?

Astarion's eyes widened as he looked up from his book to look at you. He placed his hand dramatically on his chest, "Darling, whatever gave you that idea?"

The vampiric rogue paused for a moment when you called him out on the times he criticized you on your kind actions. He inhaled a sharp breath while thinking of the right words to say, "Look, dear, my sweet, darling... I don't hate you. At least, I don't hate you personally, I just... hate the things you do I suppose."

He averts your gaze and closes his book shut, he lets out a breath, "Look, I know I am somewhat, just a tiny bit harsh when you are kinder to others. But, no one was ever kind to me when I was stuck in what was essentially hell for 200 years. No one ever glanced my way and helped me out of the goodness of their hearts, and yet you decided that some random strangers are more worthy of your time and effort than me."

As he particularly enunciates the 'me', you see a large amount of hurt behind his eyes. He silently laughs a bit before looking directly at you, "I don't know my feelings towards you, I hate it when you're hurt. I like it when you talk to me? Is that you want? Is that what you want to hear and know how much I care about you?"

Astarion averts his gaze from you once more and whispers, "I just wish you showed the same amount of care you show random strangers... to me."

As he says "to me", his expression falls as if he doesn't believe you would actually do that for him.

[the-ghost-king]

question for people who speak a language that uses character symbols (Japanese, Mandarin, etc) instead of an character alphabet (English, Russian, etc). In English and other languages there's lots of complaints about "kids don't know how to spell these days" because of autocorrect, but I know on say a Japanese keyboard if I type さくら it automatically can give me the kanji 桜 and I wonder if in those languages there is a similar cultural mentality of "kids not knowing how to spell these days" because the keyboard can automatically convert that as well so there's less focus on remembering each stroke in a word some may get missed as a "typo" when handwriting? Or maybe I am missing something and don't understand?

[bet-on-me-13]

Bruce owes Danny money. He does Not want to pay up.

So! Danny had to run away from Amity Park when his parents discovered his Powers. But every time he tried to stay in a single place in America, they somehow managed to find him.

Turns out, they were working with the GIW to track him using the GIW's resources and the Fenton's Genius to find him everywhere he ran to. Eventually, Danny figured he had had enough and ran to Europe where the GIW had no Jurisdiction.

After wandering for a while, Danny was found and recruited by the League of Assasins. He was powerful, skilled, and connected to the Lazarus Pits, so they approached him with a job offer.

They would hide him from the Fentons, who had began to search for him in Europe independently, and in return he would work for them as an Assasin.

Considering his situation, Danny agreed.

He began training to be an Assasin, supplementing his Ghost Abilities with the abilities of an Assasin to become even more Stealthy.

While training under the League, Danny met another recruit simply known as Bruce. They trained together for years, even going on a few missions together gathering intel, and using disguises to hid in plain sight.

On one of these missions, Danny lent Bruce some money with the promise to get paid back when they returned to the League. That same night, Bruce left the League of Assasins and never came back.

...

Bruce was sitting in the Batcave going over a case with Tim, Jason was off to the side cleaning his Guns, and Dick and Cass were holding an acrobatics competition in their Obstacle Course, with Damien, Steph, and Duke cheering them on.

Suddenly an Eldritch Emerald Light sprang to life in the center of the Batcave, and everybody dropped what they were doing and sprang to action.

Slowly, a glowing green figure emerged from the Light. He appeared Eldritch in Nature, as if he existed in multiple layers of reality at once and looking at him gave them minor headaches. Then, the figure spoke up.

"BRUCE. ITS BEEN 15 YEARS. YOU STILL OWE ME 16 DOLLARS."

Recognizing Danny, Bruce took a moment to compose himself before responding.

"Fuck Off."