#his life and his death both haunt me daily

[healingheartdogs]

I'll tell ya what though, nothing makes you want to get out of dog stuff for a while quite like your childhood dog passing traumatically in your arms

[yawnderu]

Afraid - Simon ''Ghost'' Riley x Reader

I cried the entire time I was writing this and had to take breaks to sob, enjoy

content: angst with a happy ending, mentions of death and injuries, hurt/comfort

''Stray.'' Simon's voice is stern as you walk past him, ignoring the way he calls out to you, moving away from the gloved hand that tries to reach out to you.

''Stray.'' He calls again and this time you look at him, his behemoth frame blocking the doorway with his arms crossed, the bloodied skull balaclava making him even scarier, if that's even possible. You hang by the window, trying your best not to glance at the imposing figure.

You can tell he's staring at you like usual, yet you don't glance back. Your hand pockets the box of cigarettes he never got to finish, digging deeper into your pocket until you feel the familiar metal of his dog tags. Ghost became his namesake— his spirit haunting you every single day, acting like he's still there, yet you both know the truth.

Memories of his last moments flash through your mind every single day, the sunrises that he never got to see make your days even more miserable. You think about what happened yet again— the painful memory of Ghost pushing you out of the way, a sniper bullet piercing what he used to call a cold heart.

You hold him in his dying moments, promises and love confessions escaping both of your lips like prayers. He tells you to look away and when you do, he closes his eyes so you don't see the life slipping out of him, but you know. Oh, how you wish you didn't know, but you still do, his body going limp on you and instantly feeling lighter— you'd like to believe his soul was freed.

''I can't move on, Si.'' You finally speak, voice cracking as the tears escape your eyes, like they have every single day. How can you move on from something like that? You've had your brothers in arms die in your hands and it never gets easier, yet Simon was an entirely different thing. He was a part of your soul, a man who sneaked his way into your heart with the same stealth he used during missions.

It doesn't take much until you're sobbing, knees feeling weak as they finally give up on you, his cold dog tags clutched between your hands as if holding onto his memory. Ghost crouches down next to you, one of his gloved hands attempting to touch you, yet he takes it back after slight hesitancy.

''It's been three months.'' His face is etched with concern, tone serious yet holding the same gentleness and care he always used to talk to you in after realizing his feelings. ''I'll always live within you, sweetheart. It breaks my heart to see you like this.'' He confesses, his heart breaking further knowing he can't comfort you physically, yet he's secretly glad he's good with words.

''I can't carry on, Si— not if it means I'll stop seeing you.'' You were always as stubborn as a mule, yet nothing is more heartbreaking for Ghost than to see the woman he loves crumble down daily because of him, because of a stupid mistake in intel.

''As long as you keep on fighting... As long as you remember me, Stray, I'm not dying.'' He reassures and you finally look up, mesmerized by the raw love and comfort his brown eyes hold. The corners of his eyes crinkle slightly, and that's an expression you became familiar with throughout the years. He's smiling.

''I'll be with you for this mission, the next, the one after that... I'm always here, love.'' He reassures, eyes softening even more once you nod your head, trying to wipe the tears away from your cheeks as you manage to give him a pained smile.

''Don't forget.'' He whispers, getting up from his crouched position as he waited for you to get up as well. ''Let's finish this mission.'' He gave you a small nod, walking with you as he saw you put on your gear, his dog tags safely secured around your neck alongside your own. You glance back at him before doing your eye black, hair secured in a braid before you put on his old balaclava, closing your eyes for a second as you bask in on the smell.

''Ready, sir.'' Life is better if you're delusional and pretend Simon is still alive. He nods his head, walking alongside you as you both get to the helipad, the rest of the team waiting.

''Saved ya a seat, bonnie.'' Soap wraps an arm around your shoulders and escorts you into the helicopter, trying to pretend like everything was fine, yet you can see the pain in his eyes. You lost a partner, and he lost a brother, yet he always tried to be strong for your sake. The ride to the site is quiet, feet dangling off the landing rail as you close your eyes, the loud vehicle silencing your mind for at least a few hours until you finally make it down.

''Recover the intel and get out— let's unfuck this.'' Price speaks through the comms as you all scatter around the building, checking corners with your finger ready on the trigger.

Recover the intel and get out. Easy enough, right? Right. The human body is an interesting thing, capable of surviving falls from hundreds and even thousands of feet, able to survive hundreds of kilograms crushing it, able to generate antibodies to protect you from sickness, yet nothing can ever protect you from an enemy sneaking behind you, blade cutting through your throat before you even realize what's going on. By the time you realize what's going on, it's too late.

''C'mon, stay with me, kid.'' You can vaguely make out Price's deep, raspy voice as he holds you in his arms, the enemy dealt with the moment he was spotted— you're leaving too early, and the enemy left too late.

''I'm sorry.'' Is all he can manage to whisper out, trying his best to put pressure on your wound, but it's too late. Nothing can ever save you from a cut to the arteries in charge of keeping your brain working. Your hand manages to reach out to hold his wrist, eyes closing as a small smile sets on your lips. I'm almost there, sir. You don't hear his screams of anguish the moment you stop breathing in his arms, instead you hear... nothing.

For a short while, it's nothing. Everything is black.

''Welcome home, love.'' The familiar voice whispers out. The first thing you can feel is his large, ungloved hand running down the length of your hair, gently resting on your hairline and spreading his warmth all around your head. Your eyes open, looking into the brown eyes of the man of your dreams.

''Si?'' You whisper out, hand reaching out towards him, waiting to wake up from a bad dream, yet your hand makes contact with his actual body. Your eyes open wide and you immediately jump up to hug him. He'd never admit it, but... it startled the shit out of him.

''Keep it tactical, Sergeant.'' He reprimanded with mock sternness before his arms wrapped around your waist, holding your head close to his chest while you both embraced each other. Your hearts were filled with pure bliss and love, unable to feel the pain of war anymore. Whatever this was, you'd gladly spend it together.

''I missed you, sweet girl.'' In the cosmos, our energies sit beside one another.

[ofmdrecaps]

10/29-30/2024 Daily OFMD Recap

TLDR; David jenkins; Rhys Darby; Taika Waititi; Samba Schutte; Con O'Neill; Nathan Foad; David Fane/Rachel House; MCM Comic Con Coverage w/AdoptOurCrew; In Person Events: Calypso's Birthday in Pittsburgh; Fan Spotlight: Gay Pirate News Hour; NeverLeftPodcast; AMuseOfFyre: Badmintons!; Love Notes;

Hey lovelies, my dad is once again trying to come home from the hospital tomorrow, and I am learning how to help with wound care, and tube feeds, so I have been completely and utterly wiped after coming home from that while also working full time (and no sleep because my kiddo had too much candy)-- so to be honest I have been taking some time to rest and doodle because I need it for my mental health! I'm slowly catching up, things are gonna be a bit bare bones while I get back into the groove of things. Hope you're all staying healthy and safe out there!

= David Jenkins =

Just a lovely picture of David and Kinga from earlier this year that Kinga shared a couple days ago.

Source: Kinga's Instagram

Also-- David's been sharing the adorable twerking gif by @smolbus over on twitter!

Source: David Jenkins Instagram

= Rhys Darby =

Rhys is keeping up with his Daily Doodles on his Substack! The last one there is.. uhm, well very specific (I love these goofy doodles btw I hope he never stops, reminds me of the Buttons McGinty illustrations). Check out the Darby Daily Doodles on his Substack!

Source: Rhys Free Substack

There are still tickets available for Rhys's Indianapolis show on Nov 7 at Helium Comedy Club! You can still get tickets here. The St Louis - Nov 8 - Helium Comedy Club is sold out!

If you're going to the IN show-- one of Rhys Buddies is really catering to the Rhys Darby fans and trying to giveaway his red solo cups that have been touched or looked at by Rhys! I'm so glad they know just how feral everyone is for Rhys Lightning.

And a quick clip of one of Rhys's Routines from the 25th anniversary!

View this post on Instagram

A post shared by Helium Comedy Club Indy (@heliumcomedyind)

Source: Helium Comedy Instagram

= Gizmo & Bumbles Darby =

As you know, I can't resist cat content, especially of Gizmo and Bumbles, so here you are-- Thanks Rosie for keeping us fed!

Source: Rosie's Instagram stories.

= Taika Waititi =

Taika was out at the world series, and the Dodgers won!

Source: Taika's Instagram

= Samba Schutte (and Con) =

Reminder! Samba's Death by Cheese class is one week away! Sat Nov 9th, at 10am PST online with Be Momentus!

Also check out this very goofy video of Samba and con Re: The dish you'll be making!

View this post on Instagram

A post shared by Samba Schutte (@sambaschutte)

Source: Samba's Instagram

= Nathan Foad =

When Nathan's not interviewing Kristian at cons, he's out with friends!

Source: Michelle Collins Instagram

= David Fane / Rachel House =

Moana2 just broke the 2024 record for most day 1 ticketing presales for an animated feature! Congrats Rachel, David, and Taika! So excited for you!

Source: Fandango's Instagram

= Con O'Neill =

After the recent showing of 'The Men' starring Con at the Alnwick Playhouse in the UK, Con did a Q & A with Rebecca of The Northern Film Blog! Check out the article below!

== MCM Comic Con Coverage ==

Our friends over at @adoptourcrew and their correspondents were kind enough film and transcribe some of the questions Nathan asked kristian at his panel at MCM Comic Con a couple weekends back! I'm sharing a screencap + the link to their tumblr posts with the videos (tumblr only lets me share one at a time on any given post) so please head over there and check them out! Question 1: "Nathan asks Kristian about his personal style and how the way he presents himself has changed over the years."

Question 2: Regarding Kristian's first time working with Revlon

Conversation About Kristan's Life Part 1

Conversation about Kristian's life PART 2:

== In Person Events: PA ==

It's that time again! Harold's Haunt in Pittsburgh PA will be hosting another Calypso's birthday, this time on Nov 9 at 6 pm!

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A post shared by Ringa Sunn (@ringasunn)

Source: Harold's Haunt Instagram

== Fan Spotlight ==

= Gay Pirate News Hour =

It's time for another Gay Pirate News hour! Catch it on Our Flag Means Fanfiction's Youtube at 1PM PT/ 4PM ET!

Source: Our Flag Means Fanfiction Instagram

= Never Left Podcast =

New episode of Never Left! This time talking about Flags! (Part 1!) Check it out on your favorite listening platform on their linktr.ee!

Source: Never Left Podcast Instagram

= A Muse Of Fyre =

Our crewmate @amuseoffyre is back -- this time with the Badminton's! The Nigel flicking off the camera one is legit the funniest thing I've seen all week. Love it!

Source: Amuseoffyre's Instagram

== Love Notes ==

Hey lovelies, just a quick one tonight. I feel like TheLatestKate is basically just following me around because she always has new and appropriate love notes each week. Please please please go easy on yourself right now, you're doing so much, I know we all are. Please be kind to yourself, drink some water, and take a few extra moments of rest. You deserve it (whether you did a million things today, or just survived). Take care lovelies. See you soon.

View this post on Instagram

A post shared by @thelatestkate

Source: The LatestKate Instagram

[flurry-of-stars]

𝓐𝓭𝓭𝓲𝓬𝓽𝓲𝓸𝓷-𝓕𝔂𝓸𝓭𝓸𝓻

𝕮𝖔𝖓��𝖊𝖓𝖙 𝖜𝖆𝖗𝖓𝖎𝖓𝖌: Mentions of death, cheating and murder 𝖂𝖔𝖗𝖉 𝖈𝖔𝖚𝖓𝖙: 1k (𝓐/𝓝: I was in the middle of working on a fic when Army Dreamers came on my Spotify and suckerpunched me with this little idea. It's more a ramble than anything sdjkfns)

Fyodor, who takes the body of the person who kills him. Who is cursed and blessed with immortality. Fyodor, who can come back over and over again. No matter what, he always returns to your side, looking just as he always did when he left you. Sometimes he comes back with a new outfit.

Other times, he comes back stained in blood, but he always comes back. And you always welcome him back with a kiss and a tight hug.

You never question him. You're just happy to have him in your arms again.

Fyodor, who, knowing about his immortality, would always deny you children. He knew how badly you wanted to start a family but he couldn’t bring new life into this world knowing he would have to sit back and watch his children die before his eyes.

Fyodor, who was heartbroken when you finally died during your first incarnation to old age. He remembers how even on the days leading up to your death, you would always comment on how you withered like a dying flower, while he stayed young and lively. You even teased him for his secrets of youth, asking playfully if he had sold his soul to the devil for his youthful look as you rasped and coughed. But to him, you never were a withering flower. You were always his beautiful garden of Eden, more vibrant and lively than you ever knew.

Fyodor who finds your second incarnation. Who courts you all over again. Who killed again and again but still returns to your side. Who never stopped loving you, even though you look nothing like your first incarnation but he knows its you by the way your eyes sparkle when you smile and the way you laugh.

He could never forget that sweet smile. It haunts his every dream. The one who takes you ballroom dancing. Who buys you the exact dress you want without ever pointing it out to him. Who styles your hair just how he knows you like it without any guidance. Who’s even more heartbroken when you pass in your late twenties to illness. You hadn’t even repeated your pleas to have children yet and he already lost you again. Fyodor who buried you with his own hands this time and stayed in the rain crying over your grave. Fyodor who seeks your third incarnation but finds you a little too late. You’ve already settled down with another man. You’re talking about starting a family, moving to the countryside to get away from the hustle and bustle of city life.

Fyodor who can’t let you go. Who flirts with you, swoons you off your feet and drives you to cheating on your husband. Who watches as your husband comes through the door of your beautifully decorated apartment one night and shoots you both dead when he catches you both in the act.

Fyodor who takes over his body next, fleeing the scene before the police arrive.

Fyodor, who after seeking you out time and time again, incarnation to incarnation, shattering a piece of his heart and soul over and over again, decides he can’t suffer like this anymore.

He, an immortal being, was never suppose to find love. He will be here until the end of time, while you’re destined to keep dying over and over again.  He can’t keep doing this to himself. You are his addiction, his drug and today, he’s deciding to cut off the supply. But he loves you too much to stay away from you for long. He writes you poems and books, letters that are never delivered that scream his love in it’s rawest form and leaves them hidden at your previous incarnation's favorite places, hoping and praying to God that you somehow find them. Fyodor who watches your one hundred and seventy-sixth incarnation from afar as you go about your daily life. Sees your struggles and your pains. He wants nothing more than to reach out to you, to embrace you and assure you everything is going to be okay.

But he doesn’t. Even as his heart screams at him to go and chase you. Even as he almost brings himself to tears watching you struggle. He can’t do it again. It’s too much. Too, too much… Fyodor, who several months after finding your latest incarnation, is making preparations to head to Yokohama to find the Book to rewrite his fate so he can finally be with you.

Immortality be damned. He wants to settle down with you. He wants to love you freely. To finally start a family with you and when the time comes, he wants to die alongside you. He can't do this anymore. He can't stand to watch you die over and over again and yet he can't let you go. You've woven yourself too tightly into the chords of his heart. Fyodor, who receives a knock at his apartment door in Saint Petersburg as he's finalizing his plans. Who tugs on his ushanka and cloak, murmuring a quiet “One moment please.”

Fyodor who opens the door to see your current incarnation standing there. Who freezes in place, cold eyes going wide in surprise as his hollow heart skips a beat, just as it did when he met your very first incarnation all those generations ago.

You, with a kind, warm smile on your face, one of Fyodor’s poems in one hand and a jar of small flowers in the other. The same ones he had left at your very first grave just yesterday with that same small cluster of primroses in a jar. Fyodor who feels his heart falling for you all over again as you praise his beautiful, heartfelt writing and expresses how grateful you are to the person who directed you to his apartment after you asked around about the name left on the poem.

Fyodor, who can't resist inviting you in for tea.

Fyodor who knows he can’t stop loving you. Who knows no matter how many times you die, he will always seek you out. You are, after all, his weakness. His eternal lover. His addiction. 

Dividers: @/saradika 𝒯𝒶𝑔𝓁𝒾𝓈𝓉 (first time trying this so I hope it works! (๏д๏) ) @tecchoussuperlady @hearts4heidi @lovestruckbook @wixxlemuff @twinkaesop @ladylntrovert @yonseibananamilk @honeyangelsblog

[maybe-boys-do-love]

Finished Last Twilight, and I'm not adding to the ableism discourse, because most things have already been said and with a lot of beautiful nuance that I agree with. But I do want to talk about how that ending arrived because of Aof Noppharnach's consistent symbolic commentary on the experience of living with HIV in much of his work, with an approach that's unique among all queer content. Imma skip Gay OK Bangkok since its not even a metaphor there, but I'll explain my rationale for the others, and we can just appreciate the foundation Gay OK Bangkok lays for us to think about the rest of his stuff.

The motif of life-saving medical intervention comes up in all but one of the works he takes screenwriting credit on. He's Coming To Me: P'Med dies originally because of a lack of medical intervention. 1000 Stars: Tian gets a heart transplant. Moonlight Chicken: this one's more subtle, but the whole series is explicitly established in the context of reopening following the COVID pandemic, and Wen will later say to Jim, "we are survivors." It was this line upon rewatch that made me start considering how thorough this theme is. Survivors of what? The meaning is three-fold: hard lessons in love, COVID, and, for gay men of their age, the HIV epidemic. The hope of medical intervention for Day's condition takes on a secondary meaning, with this trend in mind, even if the mixed disability politics between visual impairment and being HIV positive really fails.

His comparisons are more intricate though. Pills and daily regimens are a consistent motif. Day has his daily eye-drops, Tian his pills (which are presumably immune-suppressants to help accept the transplant but I'm not going to Viki right now and watching every ep to find out so someone feel free to correct me). 'But people take medicine for lots of things,' you say. 'Just because its gay doesn't mean its an HIV metaphor!' You have a fair point! But here's where Aof gets real fun and sneaky. P'Med dies from lack of pills the same year Torfun, whose heart will save Tian's life, is born, 1997. I'm mentioned once before 1997 as important for the class-conscious Aof because of the Asian financial crisis that Thailand set off that year. However, 1997 is also important because its the year HAART, or Highly Active Anti-Retroviral Therapy was first used in Thailand (it had hit the market only one year earlier). HAART, a multi-drug regimen, boosted someone's life-expectancy with HIV up by 15 years, and its side-effects were significantly milder than previous approaches. The medical conditions of P'Med and Torfun's heart point us directly to HAART, and what it could offer.

Now we're moving out of the medical and into the experiential connections because, while Dark Blue Kiss is the only work Aof chose to take credit for screen-writing without incorporating medical references, it is by far the most dense with references to the issue of concealment. Its in the narrative as people closet identities and hide relationships, yes, but its in SO much of the visuals, too, most obviously the Pete & Kao mug hidden inside its coozie. It's easy to see the surface story about gay visibility and the closet, but there's a more specific subtext here about the associated condition that intensified the stigma of being gay and how that impacts your sense of self. Bad Buddy explores this issue less, but even in the BL Bubble, its haunted by the stigma of homophobia--it just shuffles it over onto rivalry so the audience can experience it without reproducing it.

However, the grief and shame of surviving when others haven't haunts Aof's other works much more intensely. Jim and Tian both are hung up on guilt for someone's death that they did not actually cause, continuing to pursue the goals for those that passed rather than their own. Then, there's Thun and P'Med, which is the best allegory for living and dating with HIV, bar none. It goes into the feelings of stigma and the limits of physical intimacy with partners that living with HIV caused, especially prior to Truvada's introduction in 2004. Even then, the show depicts how a HIV negative partner maintains the choice to participate in their own regimens, as Thun's desires for physical intimacy with P'Med manage their relationship and never the other way around.

This sense of required separation and gay identities that are less sex-focused also play into oft-maligned motifs in Aof's work. He's talked explicitly about people's criticisms of the limited physical intimacy in his earlier works that led to the more prominent stuff in Bad Buddy, but I hope given the above context, we can appreciate why physical intimacy is less of a priority than other kinds (and I'd add that 1000 Stars, which got the most sh*t about it, is actually one of the most erotically-charged BLs out there because of it's restraint). Then, you have the finales where characters separate for periods of time, and while I don't see this as explicitly tied to HIV experiences (Aof is literally following the book of romcom beats there, even if everyone whines about it), I can't help but appreciate a tangential connection to loving beyond time and distance that was required for those who lived with or lost loved ones to HIV.

I would've loved to see a version of Last Twilight that didn't absolutely bungle its metaphor, because it had every element to be something great (except, I'm sorry to the fans, lead actors with the necessary queer romantic chemistry). Watching the last episode, when the show seemed to finally rediscover plot and pacing, all the other pieces that had been drowned out by the disability conversation peeked their heads out, and I saw what the show wanted to be. The topics related to living with HIV of stigma, survivor's guilt, and assistive technologies: they were all right there, not just for Day but for everyone, if only they had been given the proper time to marinate to develop more complexity. It's the rare instance of a show where I'll choose to spend time imagining what could have been rather than obsessing over what was or just moving on. Even a misstep from Aof, like this, is overflowing with so many more layers than most series. The failures of Last Twilight, in relationship to his other works, even let you see how much food for thought he's providing.

[bau-drabbles]

dancing with your ghost

a/n: enjoy! and apologies if it's ooc for him 💀 it was written in a rush :)

maeve's death affected spencer relationship with you more than realised, he just didn't know the true extent of it until jj points it out

"what are you doing spence? you shouldn't be in here, not like this" jj entered the room, to see him buried in files. his curly hair was tousled, like he'd been running his fingers through it countless times. and judging by the tense lines on his forehead, she guessed it was one of those days. he was distracted, his fists clenched tightly around the folders.

she'd gone to you just moments before, wanting to know what had happened. she could see the pain in your eyes but you didn't want to speak so she didn't force you. and how could you?

the anger practically swallowed you whole, making you see red whenever his name was mentioned. she was your closest confidant in the bau, jj knew spencer was the reason for your pain. and despite you telling her over and over not to confront him, she did so anyway. it had to be done.

however today, the atmosphere was different. spencer was different. so were you.

"she had you, so it's fine. i'll talk to her tomorrow" he hated how selfish he sounded, how cold he was. but those horrible thoughts he tried to keep at bay poisoned his mind, the darkness trickling in through the cracks of his facade.

the fight you both had just hours before killed him more, he needed you. he always did. so why was his feet planted firmly on the ground, refusing to seek you out. why did it feel like there was a knife in his heart, twisting deeper every second he was away from you? why did it feel like his whole world was about to crash down at any given second

he tried to keep himself distracted but all his mind would replay were those haunted pictures of his ex lover. how helpless he was, how completely lifeless her body felt, how he could prevented it all. and it absolutely obliterated him in pieces.

he would wake up in cold sweats, looking to his side where you'd be snoozing away peacefully. and he reminded himself that you were there and safe and sound.

until the next time you wouldn't be.

"come on spencer, doesn't she mean anything to you? don't you love her?" jj's voice was sharp, tired of the eggshells she was walking all around him. she knew she was being unfair but she also knew how it felt to be hurt by him, how it felt to be completely isolated from him.

to her surprise, he whirled around, his lip curled into a sneer. she'd never seen him so agitated before

"love?? how can i trust in love? how could i ever trust in something that could be so present in one moment and so absent the next?" spencer scowled, slamming down the papers he had in his hands.

painting you in a bad light, he thought would make the whole ordeal easier. he could pretend he never loved you but his heart betrayed him. for every beat yearned for you only. every thought that ran through his head was consumed by you. like your soul was in his body, coursing through his veins.

"do you love her?" her voice interjected, coming closer.

"what kind of question is that?" spencer raised a brow to which jj rolled her eyes.

"answer it spencer" she spoke again firmly. he knew there wasn't a way out, she would know if he was lying. he wasn't very good at keeping those for long anyway. he slumped back into his chair, his arms wrapped around him tightly. his sorrow painted so glaringly obvious upon his features, he wondered if he would ever have a happy life.

one where you would be there, one where he didn't need to run from his happiness. one where he didn't need to constantly look back in fear.

perhaps that life simply didn't exist for him

"so much so, it consumes me daily" he whispered the sentence, he never thought he could've ever loved another human so fiercely. so passionately. so much like his old love

"then trust in that. if you can't trust in love, trust in y/n. trust her, trust in her love. go to her and make amends, she needs you as much as you need her, spence. i promise you" jj eagerly spoke, hoping he would spring up and dash out the door. but some things don't happen as they plan.

"these issues are not surface level jj. they run so much more deeper than that. don't you think i want to trust y/n? don't you think i want to give her my all?" the files were on the floor as he stood up, his head in his hands. it felt like to was going to explode with how many thoughts were crammed inside.

"why don't you? take a risk for once in your life spencer"

"i do take risks, calculated ones" he mumbled, his arms wrapped around themselves.

"and what of this?"

"this.... is not calculated. i cannot determine the outcome of it. i'm not in control, my heart is. and i don't think i could bear if it breaks again" finally what jj had been waiting for, the turth finally had revealed itself. but it was more complicated than she realised.

"it's maeve..... isn't it?" jj's voice was softer this time, shocked by his confession. there was no use in hiding it anymore. the dark rings around his eyes, his sunken face, all of it due to the nightmares that kept him awake at all hours of the night. the fear that once he achieved you in his arms, it would be taken just as quickly. he nodded, a sad smile while his eyes began brimming with tears

"i see her every night and every night it ends with her being shot. i could have done something to prevent it, i know i could have. and i'm so scared of that happening to y/n. she's not from our world jj, how could i subject her to a punishment like this?" it feels like he's underwater, his breathing hitched in his throat. his eyes water, biting his lip to stop the trembling. but it wouldn't work, nothing would.

"that wasn't your fault spence, we didn't know she would do that. nobody would" she touched his hand, her baby blues watering at the pain her friend was going through. just when the slightest bit of happiness fell into his lap, it was snatched away before he could've enjoyed it.

"that's just it. i should've known. y/n could enjoy a life where she wouldn't constantly be worried for her life at every turn, she could free. free from the life i could give her, free from me..." the tears dropped like pearls, down his face and onto the desk. with every drop, it cut jj deeper. that she too was helpless in that nothing she could do would remedy his pain and yours.

"spencer..." each cracked word he spoke she felt her heart break further. how you would never know the true extent of his behaviour, how even after all this time, the nightmares continued to plague him. and he didn't tell anybody, not a soul.

"i lost maeve, i can't watch y/n suffer the same fate. she deserves so much more than i could ever give her" his voice is strained, trying his best to keep his composure professional but each thought drove him further and further to insanity

his hands reach out to his wallet where there's a small picture of you. his fingers shakily traced your picture, you were so happy. his mind was trying to engrain the beautiful smile you donned into his mind forever. so that when tomorrow arrived and he'd no longer be there, that thought couldn't hurt him. he'd only remember your smiling face

but it would hurt, of course it would.

[alexiroflife]

Palestine Go Fund Me Links

these are links that familias in Gaza have sent my way due to my growing audience. i will continue to add links to this list for those who can donate, and for others to share. i have tagged the following accounts below so that you can visit these blogs and learn their stories. i will link this post in my bio as well. please, please, please share to continue to support those suffering!

"Hello friends!

🍉I am Mahmoud Ayyad, a Palestinian from the besieged and destroyed Gaza 😭😭, coming from a family of young children, women and elderly ❤❤ who have been suffering😭😭 for 300 difficult days of an aggressive war. Our lives are harsh because we lack all the basic necessities of life. Everything has become scarce and difficult to obtain. There is no food, no water, no medicine.

So, I ask you to help me keep my family safe and alive, especially after we lost all our sources of livelihood.

Please do not leave my family to struggle and suffer these difficult days alone. You can support my campaign by donating whatever you can or by sharing my posts to reach others who can help us survive the war to safety and peace. You are helping the lives of many people with your small contribution. ❤❤🍉🍉

Every donation makes a difference in our very difficult lives. But this is a legitimate campaign and has been checked by 90-ghost" - @mahmoudayyad

"Hello my dears! I, Asmaa, ask you to support my campaign to help me reach my goal. 🙏 I am now in desperate need of your support to help me stay alive and safe. Gaza is a very dangerous place, both in terms of living standards and souls. I need your financial support so that I can get the basic needs of my family. Please help a family survive through your small donations or through your shares to others. And reblog. The campaign is going very slowly. 🙏🍉💔 This donation drive was verified by: @90-ghost" - @asmaamajed2

"Hello 🖐

I am aya living in North Gaza with my three children, and we are facing starvation in the northern region. We have moved more than 13 times trying to find a safe place, but there is no safety anywhere.

I am asking for your help to protect my children and get us out of this imminent danger😥.

Your donations and sharing of my story will greatly contribute to our survival.🙏🙏" - @ayaalanqarsblog

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I am writing to u with a heart full of hope and faith , asking for your urgent help .

We are a family living in harsh and difficult conditions due to the war, suffering daily from fear and destruction. And Iam running a fundraising campaign to save them 🕊️.

Plz🙏 could u reblog the post about my campaign on my account!? Every share and reblog can make a difference in my family lives.I humbly request a donation of 5$ or more if you can my friend and if u can’t just support us enough for me.🌹

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Found via Tik tok:

[pursuitseternal]

“Arising” to the climax of “Our Blood is Thicker”

Astarion x Cordehlia (Named Tav) | E | 3.6 K

Love to @marimosalad , my illustrator and co creator

Summary: Cazador’s dungeons, where his love is reduced to a hostage to ensure his willingness in the Rite of Profane Ascension. The Pale Elf and the Bone Picker are faced with an even more desperate choice in that glow of Infernal magic.

CW: violence, angst, Pale Elf Quest spoilers, heartache, impossible choices, Catharsis, and near death experiences.

Previous Ch | ao3 link | Masterlist

Chapter 18: Arising…

🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥

Dagger bit flesh, one last werewolf felled in the Ballroom. Blood everywhere, it covered them all, but Astarion grinned in wicked delight as he took in their progress. The Palace would be gutted, and she would be saved. Cazador would be dead, and with any luck, he might just ensure immortality and power and prestige for them both. Forever.

He looked into the faces of his friends, all just as bloodied and breathless as he was.

And what was more, they all grinned back, panting and bent over with exhaustion some, well, Gale unsurprisingly. But they all were with him.

It took a matter of moments for them to find the way to the dungeons, his stomach sinking, his undead heart somehow racing, almost tangible again in his chest as they lowered to the crypt.

Foul air hit their faces, rot and putrefaction and mold, a place he didn’t even know existed. And yet, somehow, the perfect place for Cazador to wallow and bait his trap. The sewer rat that he was.

Cells lined the walls once they reached the bottom, hundreds of glowing red eyes staring at him, clamors of parched voices, some that had haunted him for centuries.

“Are all these…?” Shadowheart’s question died on her lips as the answer became too clear.

“Targets… Victims…. More… spawn….” Astarion kept his eyes fixed ahead. “They should have been dead, drained and dismembered,” he hissed, betrayal upon betrayal festering in his stomach now. “He must need them, must be part of his plan….”

“There must be hundreds… thousands…” Halsin’s voice almost shook at the atrocity.

But atrocity had been a daily part of his life for all his years enslaved. Astarion could only push forward, unable to look or listen at the faces he still saw in his nightmares, those torturous visions that plagued him any time he wasn’t dreaming about…

“Cordehlia,” he froze outside a cell, empty and blood spattered. Crouching, he touched his fingers in the red pool of sticky blood and licked it. “Her scent is here,” he whispered, pressed and taught as every instinct to kill began to take hold. “She was here, but it’s not her blood,” he stood smirking. “Ghast and werewolf, at least she put them through the hells, by the look of it. Unarmed too.” He absentmindedly tapped the dagger at his hip.

“Of course she did,” Karalch gave a small, slight laugh, unusual for her. “That’s our girl.”

“But it doesn’t tell why so many other victims, why so many monsters,” Wyll’s voice sliced through as sharp as his blade.

“Perhaps I can be of assistance….”

The scent of brimstone and sulfur, the sting of Infernal magic in the air, that velvet baritone voice, only one Cambion would offer help one last time… just a small, black and molten form hovered at their eye level. Slowly, those dark sunken eyes, that hard-lined face materialized before them all. Half-formed from the neck up, that familiar face smirked at them.

Raphael.

“What the fuck do you want?” Astarion rounded, fangs bared and fists clenched. “If you haven’t noticed, I’m a bit too busy to thank you for gracing us with your presence, devil,” Astarion snapped, sarcasm dripping from his words as he gave a subtle bow of his head. “If you slow me down now, you’ll find yourself short not two… but three horns someday….”

He didn’t mean horns alone. That made Karlach snicker.

But Astarion couldn’t enjoy the mirth, not when he was so very close now. That hurried bite in his words, he met Raphael’s black stare with disgust. “I don’t know why you think we might need assistance, what with facing down my old master with his army of an untold, unknown number of spawn, oh and he has the love of my life somewhere here….” He sneered, feral and fangs flashing. I think we have it under control, Raphael, so you can burst into mist and let me keep… going.” Spit flying, he snarled by the end.

“The spawn are not an army, my toothsome friend, they are his offering to Mephistopheles, the seven-thousand souls required for Cazador’s Ascension, in addition to your siblings’ and yours of course.”

The information smacked him in the chest. And every one of his companions seemed to stop breathing. “Seven-thousand souls…” Gale barely whispered in horrified reverence. Astarion rolled his eyes, of course the Wizard couldn’t keep his mouth shut.

“But there is more you should know, my friends. Cazador has sampled some, a mere sliver, of the power the Vampire Ascendant will possess once the Rite is completed. That’s how he faced the thin light of dawn, how his spawn could appear in your rooms, how he could subdue that menacing and beautiful future bride of yours, Astarion.”

“I’d prefer if you quit spying on us, strange devil,” Astarion’s nostrils flared. “But since you’ve seen so much, any last warnings or advice for once?”

The black, molten form of Raphael suddenly looked very serious. “Take care of his bite,” he warned with deadly tone. “One fang through the skin, and the necrotic magic of the Ascendant will take hold, death will be slow but inevitable, allowing for the Vampire Lord enough time to decide, to torture or to turn his victim…. But there will be no amount of magic that can prevent that fate.”

Every breath held tight, even Astarion. Dread formed over his slow-beating heart, arms aching to hold her one more time. Heavy silence fell, once again broken. “By Silvanus,” Halisin sighed.

“Just remember, it wasn’t Silvanus who warned you, Astarion, it was me…” Raphael’s rippling voice chuckled into nothing as the apparition faded as well.

“For fucks sake…” Karlach bemoaned their situation as she loaded arrows into her crossbow. “Nobody is getting bitten today, dammit.”

“No,” Astarion rolled his shoulders and flashed them a smile… the deadliest they had ever seen, more fangs than mirth, more darkness in his eyes than crimson as he glanced one more time where his love had been held. “But someone is going to be turned inside out for what they have done to me and my love.” He unsheathed his shortsword and her glittering dagger with a hiss of metal. “I can promise you that.”

Air stung with magic, stank with rot. He could feel the scars on his back stinging, glimpsing the way his six siblings hung suspended by magic, their own scars aglow with infernal power.

But that wasn’t what his eyes searched for. The second he spied her at the bottom of the stairs, her skin pale and fiery hair tangled, he couldn’t stop. Astarion flew headlong into the danger, the second her silver eyes locked into his, a smile of love and relief and bloodlust crossed her own face, he only hastened all the more.

Cazador held her firm, her body clutched against his chest, arms bound before her with simple rope. “The prodigal son returns,” his Master called, even as Astarion panted and rushed with blade and dagger drawn. “You're so predictable, boy, so easy to break and crack into pieces.”

A roar in his throat, her bright dagger raised over his head, he was ready to strike. Until Cazador waved that massive staff, a wall of hot magic, singeing and red, slammed into him. He was so close, barely an arm’s reach from her… from him. But glowing red sigils burned around his wrists, his breath catching as it scorched in his throat. “I’m going to fucking kill you!”

“Only if you don’t let me do it first,” Cordehlia hissed and thrashed, elbowing the vampire in his chest. To no effect.

“It’s going to be quite hard to do that, now that my will has wrapped itself around you again, boy.”

The circlets of red grew brighter, Astarion grunting as he bit his teeth firmly shut. He wouldn’t give Cazador the satisfaction of another scream or grunt in pain. “Fuck you,” he ground out against the agony rushing through his body. “You have me, let her go, you bastard.”

“I’ll let her go, once she witnesses you fulfilling your true destiny, thankless child.” Cazador cackled, waving that fearsome staff of his to intensify the hissing sounds of flesh burning, increasing the glow of those shackles on her love’s wrists. “You were made to be consumed.”

“Astarion!” Cordehlia cried, wrestling against the iron hold around her frame. “No, you were made to destroy, my love. You were made in the darkness under pressure like adamantine, just like me. You were made to avenge yourself against him….”

“Shut up, you whore,” Cazador gripped his hand around her mouth, but she bit through his pale, flaky skin, only to yell louder once that vampire squealed in pain.

“He killed your parents, he beat me from your memory, used you, defiled you, and yet we found each other again. You will fight, my love, fight and win, Astar—“

That cold, steely grip clutched around her throat, and Cordehlia sputtered for air beneath it.

Astairon’s body writhed, twisting and strengthening as he grit his teeth and closed his eyes. Every iota of his love for her boiled to the surface, every bit of his rage burst from inside him, his need to be free, to be with her exploded from within. Hissing, shattering, the binding magic broke from his wrists. The sigils of his infernal scars decimated in an instant, and Astarion stretched his arms and bared his fangs. The only thing brighter than his teeth was that dagger still held firmly in his fingers.

Freed.

“Impossible…” Cazador snarled, his fingers releasing from her throat enough for Cordehlia to gasp in some air. “Even now, you resist? Foolish, stupid boy and his foolish, stupid whore.” Long fingers gripped into her hair and pulled her head sharply to the side, her neck bones almost cracking at the force. “You should have known your place, child.”

Astarion’s eyes seemed to watch it all happen so slowly… the way her hands opened, her eyes locked on her dagger in his grip… the narrowing of her gaze, ordering him to toss it wordlessly….

It happened so quickly, so slowly at once. That bright dagger sailed through the air, unwavering from his dexterous grip until it landed square in her outstretched hand. A smile crossed his face as she held it firm and fast, turning it to sink it into the soft belly behind her. A satisfied slick noise filed the dungeon as it sank home.

But her face flashed from triumph to agony. From bloodlust to torment. Astarion’s eyes flew from her perfect lips, her shining eyes to the set of fangs that now buried in her neck.

Watching in horror as Cazador sank his deadly fangs in her flesh.

Instantly, he released that bite, dagger buried in his gut through his ostentatious jerkin. The vampire stumbled back, that nefarious staff of his falling to the ground. But as their companions descended on his old master with light spells and damaging blows, Astarion could only move slowly, as if trapped in quicksand, reaching to catch her.

Her body was shaking, necrotic streaks already darkening the shallow bite on her neck. Perfect pale skin stained dark, her beautiful face gathering beads of sweat as the poison already crept through her veins. Astarion could only cradle her, warm tears finally dripping down his cheek, lips unable to say much of anything but the music of her name over and over again as he held her against his chest.

Throat bobbing, she swallowed through the agony, “I got him, didn’t I?”

“Yes, my love,” a feeble smile and tear streaked voice replying as he stroked her hair. All he could hear was the slowing beat of her heart, the din of battle beyond them so distant, so… unimportant compared to finally holding her once more.

Maybe only one more time.

Halsin crowded over them, “Bring him here,” he ordered to the rest of their party. Scuffling and dragging, slung between Karlach and Wyll, Cazador hung limp, but still alive. Or undead. Halsin pawed at Astarion’s shoulder, something warm and assuring and irritating about it all at once. “It’s for you to decide.”

Astarion looked up, eyes burning with hate as he locked his gaze on his old master. But he couldn’t bring himself to let her go, not with the way her arms clung around his chest, the way her heart seemed to slow beneath his own ribs. “Do something, Cleric,” he snarled, gesturing with his head at how his love began to visibly shiver.

“Astarion…” Shadowheart tried to cajole, but he would not take that patronizing tone.

“Halsin, Gale,” he snapped their names. “What good is all that magic and faith if you can’t heal her.”

“The devil said it wasn’t curable, but I could try to slow the poison,” Halsin finally sighed. “But there is only one solution to this…”

“My death,” Cordehlia shuddered, teeth chattering as her flesh began to grow impossibly cold. “I can… feel it. Have dreaded this for so long…”

“Or your undeath….” He whispered, just to himself. Astarion glanced up, taking in the carnage and misery and atrocity around them. Blood-slicked stone, throbbing infernal magic still holding his siblings bound by their scars. That one missing space meant for his death, waiting to be filled to complete the Rite…. “Do what you can to buy us time, Druid,” he ordered, lifting her shaking body towards the Elf, to place in his arms, carefully like the tender babe she was to him. “I have matters to attend to.”

“Astarion,” Cordehlia moaned as she was moved. “What are you d-doing?”

“What I promised you,” he knelt as Halsin rested her against him on the ground, cradling her in his large, warm arms. “I’m going to save you, to protect you, to make you my Bride.”

“Seven… th-thousand…” she managed to say before a wrack of pain shot through her body and made her teeth snap tight.

Her love’s palm cradled her cheek, his breath cold on her lips as he kissed her so, so softly. “Seven-thousand souls is a small price to pay to save your one, beautiful one,” he murmured.

“A-starion…” she managed to hiss through her torment.

“Yes, my darling?” he replied, lips still brushing hers even as they, too, grew cold.

“Use… my dagger,” she swallowed.

Astarion smiled, a kiss on her forehead, cold and wet with her body’s agony. “Anything for you, my treasure.”

Standing, he crossed to that monster, his former tormentor, and threw Cazador’s tunic up over his head. Raising at last, he found Gale’s hand so close, that bloodied, bright dagger in his offering palm. “Use the tadpole,” the Wizard nodded. “See your own scars, and it should suffice to appease the Infernal contract.” He winced as he heard his own words. “Do it for Cordehlia.”

Never before had he disrobed faster, armor and shirt lying at his feet as he took that warm blade in his hand. Astarion could say nothing, had to ignore the way he could just see from the corner of his eyes at how the Druid tried every kind of magic to draw the poison out. Shaking his head, he kept that focus locked on the sight of his own back, seeing his scars through Gale’s eyes. But all the while, he kept his pointed ear trained on Cordhelia’s heart, how it sometimes raced and sometimes slowed. And it only spurred his own markings to be that much sharper and more precise in that monster’s flesh. A matter of moments, and he finally pronounced his work completed.

He picked up that horrific staff, ignoring the way it vibrated in his hand, overwhelmed by its rush of magic as it coursed up his arm and down his spine. Power like nothing he could have ever imagine flooded his body, instantly his tongue danced over the words of the Profane Rite, put on his lips by the magic in the air. He could have watched with twisted pleasure as Cazador’s nearly-broken body flew to be suspended in his own place. He could have savored the way magic raced up and down every nerve as the spell tripped off his tongue, as the staff seemed to move his body of its own.

No, all he could watch was Cordehlia’s silver eyes fluttering, fighting to stay open to watch him ascending. All he could savor was the way his heart filled with the promise of a power so overwhelming, he could finally do something worthy of her. Finally able to save her. Feeling it finally begin to beat for her again.

The world around him seemed to still, to sharpen and explode all at once. Dropping that staff to the ground, he rushed to her once more. Her hand trembled in his grasp, skin waxy and cold. Halsin’s big green eyes looked back at him, grief stricken and saying more than words could. He passed her feeble body into Astarion’s outstretched arms as he crouched on the dirty floor beside them. Her head lolled against his shoulder, silver eyes half shut, forced open to looking into his handsome face until the end.

“You’ll have to fight poison with poison,” the Druid smiled weakly, trying to reassure the Ascendant being before him that radiated magic, Astarion’s skin paler than death and eyes glowing like demonic flame.

Astarion nodded, he didn’t want to do this here. Not in a dungeon, not in his old home of such torment, and certainly not in front of all the others. But there was no choice now, and the price paid was too great to fail now. “Cordehlia,” he whispered in her ear, “thank you for trusting me, I just need you to trust me a little further.”

She managed a nod with her eyes still barely opened.

Blood filled his mouth, and fangs sank into the holes Cazador had made. His mouth sucked the tainted blood from her veins, almost souring his stomach as he drank until the taste of that monster’s magic was gone from her body.

Until there was only the taste of her on his tongue again.

And yet, even as she showed all the signs of being bloodless, her heart beat steadied with his magic now in her veins. It would be enough for now, enough to start her own rite, enough to keep her from true death for a while. He stood, feeling waves of power rippling from his muscles in new and strange ways. Suddenly far too aware of the way his heart thumped in his chest again—rapid and alarmed and living. Too ironic, too sad to be truly appreciated as her own pulse continued to slow. “We have to get her back to the Elfsong,” he pronounced, blood dripping down his chin, standing to carry her tenderly in his arms. “I will need to complete my work in privacy.”

Halsin cocked a brow. “Very well,” he nodded, leading them all back through the halls until they could reach the brush of daylight once more, followed by a simple teleportation back to their suite of rooms.

Not a second was wasted. Not now that he was so close. Ascended. Freed. More power at the tips of fingers than any of his kind had ever possessed. And yet his happiness laid unmoving against his chest, nearly lifeless against his now-beating heart.

Astarion kicked open the door to a set of rooms apart, setting her on the dark, postered bed. Quickly, he bit her wrist, sucking more and more of her sweet vintage straight from her veins.

His heart broke at all of what could have been, at all the various futures and paths that faded from view. She wasn’t even conscious to enjoy this union, to feel the way their essences combined into one, stronger and equal and powerful the more he drank her down. She couldn’t hear the little praises he poured over her, her ears deaf to every time he called her his love, his darling, his treasure, the mate of his heart and soul…

But he poured them over her barely-conscious face all the same, peppering her face with bloodied kisses even as it grew white as a sheet.

One last bite was all it would take. This love of his life, near dead and almost lost to him a second time, she would be his forever.

As his fangs sunk into her neck, marking afresh the scars that had formed there over their weeks reunited, he drank his fill. Breaking away at last once she neared the very dregs of her life, Astarion stopped. He was breathless, his stomach full to near bursting, even though it no longer throbbed with a spawn’s hunger.

Hand shaking, he brought his wrist to his teeth, tearing a slit in own flesh to place against her chalky lips. He could sense it entering her body, dripping down her throat to pool in her own belly. But he held his breath all the same.

Body rigid, he had never been more afraid than right now, not as his love’s life hung in the balance, not as she counted on his power to bring her back into the same realm as him, even if it was under the veil of undeath.

Her lips stirred first against his wound, just a little movement, just a slight suck. Crimson eyes flashed open were once silver ones shined at him, and Corehelia smiled as she sucked down his blood.

Astarion finally breathed, his chest easing at last.

His bride was arising.

🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥

I do know that Ascension can be divisive, however I hope this gives some firmer ground to stand on… spoonfuls of “Burn the world” for his love and “Touch her and you die” make it go down smoother, I hope. No more long lost love💞

Aeterna Amantes

3 more days until Chapter 19: Dark Kissing, when she awakens🩸💞🗡️

[ghost-bxrd]

So I've seen you post a lot about Dick and Calvin recently, and I wanted to know how you thought Calvin would react, in this Calvin gets adopted by Bruce kind of au, to:

1). Jason's death, in the assumption Calvin can't prevent it (And subsequently what he would do to Joker for it.)

2) Damian's early childhood.

3) Tim's Tim-ness.

4) How Calvin would react to the Batman Robin situation, when he finally learns about it.

I haven't gotten the opportunity to learn much about Calvin, but you have me interested, I'm a sucker for overly traumatized characters, and I am looking for the comics with him!

We can never have enough Calvin Rose content, that boy is so underrated 🥺💚

1. Pfpfpfpf you know for ONCE I wanted to go with “Jason doesn’t die in this Au” but you asked and I shall deliver hehehe.

Look, Calvin adores children. And it’s no different with Jason, whom he basically helped Bruce raise from the moment he came to the manor. (Bruce is a good dad here but emotions are not his forte. Calvin picks up the slack.)

So we’ve got a former Talon basically raising Jason, sharing a lot of his interests, teaching him fun escape techniques and pranking the others…

Only for Jason to die in Ethiopia. Beaten within an inch of his life and then blown up.

Because his birth mother sold him to the Joker.

Look, there’s very few things that make Calvin snap. Canonically it only happens when his loved ones are in danger/threatened, or children are being hurt.

And this one ticks off both boxes.

Calvin doesn’t kill if he can help it. Hasn’t done so since that one time with the Court, and that instance still haunts him in his sleep. But this?

Yeah. He’s not losing any sleep over killing Joker. He’d hunt the clown and put him down like a rabid animal. Cold, clean, and efficient. No drawing it out.

2. As mentioned before, Calvin adores kids. I don’t think they’d meet before Damian comes to the manor though, so no early early childhood shenanigans. But when Damian arrives, all entitled and clearly having been conditioned from a very young age, he gives Bruce a very deadpan “You do know you don’t get a discount for the amount of traumatized kids you take in, right?”

Damian is a stabby little shit that tries to kill Calvin at every turn. Dick thinks it’s hilarious. Damian becomes progressively more angry because Calvin doesn’t break a sweat side stepping each and every attempt. (Talon training pays off)

Calvin just lets Damian “burn off his excess energy” (“You do know he’s a kid and not a puppy, right?”) and uses the time the boy isn’t actively trying to murder him to child proof the manor again. Just to piss Damian off.

Having the kid try to poison him at dinner that day is so worth it.

Damian reluctantly warms up to Calvin over the next few weeks when the former Talon proves annoyingly helpful at setting up his room and helping him with training. (Although Damian turns his nose up every time Calvin obviously handles him with kiddie gloves. But the man point blank refuses to do anything else.)

3. Calvin spends a week around Tim and all his alarm bells for “neglected child” are going off like autotune in his brain.

Considering it’s still very close to Jason’s death tho it would take him some time to truly warm up to Tim.

Tim wishes Calvin remained as distant as he was the first year or so (no he doesn’t) because now Calvin has strictly limited his daily caffeine intake, is forcing him to eat at least three healthy meals a day, and actually set a bed time for him.

Tim is outraged (flustered) about being treated like a kid (like the kid he is).

4. Depending on who’s Robin when he finds out the reactions would vary greatly, but he still wouldn’t be happy that Bruce is taking kids out onto the streets at night to fight criminals either way. It remind him too much of the Court for comfort, grooming children into the percent assassin.

After a while though he’d realize that Bruce would love nothing more than for his Robin(s) to hang up the mantle and just live their lives to the fullest, and that they’re simply too stubborn and determined to fight crime with Batman to stay at home. With our without permission.

It helps that Bruce is clearly distressed and close to benching Robin whenever Dick/Jason comes back from patrol with a bruise. Never mind an actual injury.

[vibratingskull]

For a dance with you

“A first kiss? With reader. Like in a semi public place! Like an empire week evening, a boring one.”

Here you go my friend @blackmonitor !

Its a Thrawn x f!reader

No beta reader involved, sorry for any typo

You sigh deeply…

You’re bored to death.

All those balls and soiree blurred and look the same to you. But as an admiral it is your duty to appear at those evenement and represent the Marine. It’s just… It’s always the same. The same face. The same dances. The same orchestra. The same low bows and subterfuges. 

You massage your neck, easing your muscles, taking a deep breath. You look at the crowd in front of you. How many of them did you see yesterday and will see tomorrow? Too much. 

“Are you okay,  Admiral (y/l/n)?”

Your attention goes back to the small group of dignitaries you were talking to. Their conversation isn’t that reinvigorating, no wonder you dozed off.

“Yes… I will just go grab another drink.” You say, serving them the first excuse that comes to your mind and dump them.

You grab another glass, and as you walk aimlessly you see a large window opening on a balcony. You’re dying for some fresh air.

Thankfully there is nobody else on this balcony. You come leaning against the guardrail, appreciating the wind in your hair.

“Can I join you ?” A voice you would recognize among thousands raises behind your back.

You turn your head, to see the man of your dreams at the window frame. He too seems bored to death.

“You may.” You smile politely, trying to control the quaver of your voice. “You too need some fresh air?”

“I need a bastion to retreat and rethink a new strategy.” He explains, placing himself next to you, sighing “I don’t maneuver well in politics… It’s an aspect I will never grasp.”

You almost nudge him, but refrain before actually touching him.

“Don’t say that! You will manage one day, I’m sure.”

“Thank you for your words of encouragement, but I do not share your vision. It is as such, I have accepted it.”

Your arms almost touch, grazing each other, you feel your face heating up like hell.

“You came with someone?” you ask nonchalantly, but secretly afraid of the answer.

Please no date! Please no date! You pray internally

“I came here with Colonel Yularen, he wanted me to meet some people.” He responds unfazed, clearly unaware of your internal turmoil.

Gosh, the effect this man has on you is unreal. You discreetly wipe your sweaty palms, feeling the tension rise as he stays longer next to you. You try to play cool, but you feel painfully obvious. You chuckle nervously, earning you a side look and an inquisitive raised eyebrow. Relax Y/n, relax! He’s just some guy, some random man. RELAX!

But he’s not just a random man, not to you. First of all, because he’s your direct superior, that counts for something, and because he literally haunts you… Your mind, your dream, your work environment, everything oozes his presence and plague your daily life. Which is both a curse and a benediction.

“And you?” He finally ask.

“Hmm?” Wandering in your head, you’ve lost track of the conversation.

“What would be your ideal partner for such a soiree?” 

“Oh,well…” You think for a second, who will be your ideal partner? 

You. 

But you can’t answer that. So you answer what’s most accurate.

“My lover, I would say. I’m a romantic at heart.” 

You discreetly observe his reaction but he just nods, looking at his wine swirling in his glass. 

At least he didn’t laugh.

“And you?” You ask to deflect the feeling of shame of such a confession.

“My ideal partner…” His hand went to his chin, his gaze fixated on the forest in front of him. “Let’s see… Someone special. Someone unique to me. Yes… A lover is a good choice…” 

Your eyes widen, you both agree to something. His wine must be strong for him to open up in such a manner. But there is still one crucial question.

“Do… Do you have someone in mind?” You hold your breath.

“I do.” 

You recoil on yourself. 

With only two words he stabbed your heart and murdered you. You gulp, feeling tears behind your eyes. It’s life (y/n), accept it.

“I wish you could have enjoyed this soiree with the person of your choice and not just imagined it, sir.” You say swallowing your tears, breathing through your nose.

“But I do not have to imagine anything.” He whispers.

His hand slides across the guardrail and grazes yours ever so slightly. 

You blink.

What ?

He seizes your hand, turning fully towards you. You remain mute, not fully comprehending what’s happening right now.

“(y/n)...”

Your eyes lock. You’re enthralled by those glowing fire orbs, sparkling with a mischievous, almost childish gleam, contrasting with his stern and serious demeanor. Is it… hope that I see? He caresses your cheek and tucks a strand of hair behind your ears. 

“(y/n)...” He repeats, even lower

“Y-yes?” You stutter, too dumbfounded by what’s happening to function properly.

He tilts your chin, slowly leaning towards you. 

“Don’t refuse me, please…”

That wouldn't even cross your mind. You feel his breath on your lips and close your eyes, incredulous.

He leaves a single, soft, sweet, tender kiss and you savor it like it’s your last.

But deep down, you know.

There are many more to come!

@Bluechiss @thrawnalani @justanothersadperson93 @al-astakbar

@thrawnspetgoose @readinglistfics

[hwxnghyynjin]

You Should See Me In A Crown

Pairing: park jongseong x reader Genre: royalty!au, horror, smut, angst Warnings: character death, mentions of throwing up blood, gore, illness, mentions of witchcraft, nightmares, smut (unprotected sex, biting, grinding), swearing, I think that's it Word count: 6,063 Taglist: @foxdaisy @heeseongism

There are two types of people in the world. Rich and poor. You came from the latter. Growing up, your family didn’t really have much, which meant that you couldn’t afford to buy medicine in case you end up sick. Luckily that didn’t happen. Until one day.

Your younger brother suddenly got really sick, to the point where he was vomiting blood. A fever so bad, he felt like he was in a sauna, sweating profusely. He felt so weak, couldn’t get out of bed. He couldn’t even eat or drink, his throat burning, feeling like he was swallowing daggers.

You didn’t know what to do, crying every single night to sleep, worried about your little brother. He got sicker as the days passed, starting to smell like rotting meat, which confused you. You’ve never seen anything like that before, and it scared you.

On the 7th day of his illness, your brother passed away, his eyes bleeding out of their sockets, blood trickling out of his mouth and nose. That was one of the worst days of your life, you felt like you failed to protect him. The sight of your dead brother made you scream, tears blurring your vision. Your parents didn’t say anything, crying silently as you laid over your brother's body. Your mother tried to pry you away from him but you wouldn’t budge. Your younger sister sitting in the corner, sobs leaving his small body.

A few days after his death, your sister was the next person to get sick, the same symptoms as your brother had. She even died the same way: eyes bleeding out of their sockets, blood trickling out of her mouth and nose. You didn’t know what to do at that point, but you were definitely sure that something was wrong.

Your questions were answered a few days later as your mother was sentenced to death from being accused of witchcraft. Why would your own mother kill her own children? Your own brother and sister? Did she actually do it, or was she framed? Or was it something else?

Seeing your mother being burnt at the stake was something you weren’t expecting, but being accused of witchcraft is the worst type of crime, according to the government. Hearing her screams echoed in your mind, haunting your nightmares every single night.

Now, 8 years later at the age of 20, everything else has gone to shit.

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

You woke up in a dark room, more specifically your bedroom, the sound of birds knocking on your window. Getting out of bed, you trodded your way towards the window, drawing back the curtains to see a bunch of crows knocking into the window, some of them falling to the ground. Not again, you thought. That’s the third time this week, and it’s only a Tuesday. 

Since you’re now out of bed, you thought it would be a good idea to get dressed, and that’s exactly what you did. Taking your nightgown off, you grabbed the first items of clothing you saw, which was a pair of black pants and a white dress shirt, buttoning it up. You brushed your hair, getting rid of your bed hair, brushing through the knots. Tying the laces of your boots, you left your bedroom, going to do your daily errands.

You walked through the woods, taking in the surroundings around you. Leaves crunched under your feet, the smell of smoke hits your senses. You wondered where the smoke was coming from, until you found the culprit. A small barn was engulfed in flames, which wasn’t surprising to you anymore, especially after the riots. You just hoped no one was in there. 

Ever since the rich and the poor have gone against each other, there have been numerous wars, both big and small. All the poor have been trying to do is live their lives, but the rich have been ripping that away from them: stealing their money, livestock, even their homes. Thousands of people have died because of it, you’re surprised you haven’t been attacked.

You walked further into the woods, on your way to the farmers market. A sudden loud noise made you stop in your tracks, a loud growl ringing in your ears. A shiver ran down your spine as the sound got closer, fear running through your body.

Suddenly, a huge boar-like creature came charging towards you, its teeth sharp and tusks massive. It seemed rabid, drool dripping from its mouth, the creature roaring aggressively. You screamed, turning on your heels as you ran away, flight kicking in. 

You avoided running into any obstacles, jumping over any rocks so you wouldn’t trip. You didn’t bother turning around, not wanting to see the rabid creature chasing you. Suddenly, the roaring of the creature stopped, replaced by a squeal as a loud thud was heard from behind you. You turned around, seeing the creature lying on the ground, an arrow piercing its side, blood gushing out of it.

You tried to find where the arrow came from, looking in different directions. A boy around your age appeared, holding a crossbow. His jet black hair slicked back, wearing what looked like protective gear. You don’t know who he is but he's really attractive. 

“Ma’am, what are you doing out here? You’ll get yourself killed if you’re not careful now please, turn back around. Unless you want to get yourself killed”, what an asshole. You scowled at him, not even bothering to thank him for saving your life. You turned around, leaving the woods.

“Hey, a thank you would be nice!” he yelled, earning a middle finger from you, making him speechless. How dare a peasant give him that attitude? 

“Who was that?” one of his knights asked him. “I have no idea but she’s feisty”, he continued looking at you as you disappeared into the distance, completely out of the woods. “Jay, we should head back, I don’t like these woods, they’re creepy”, the knight, known as Jake, said. 

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

You laid down on your bed, staring at the ceiling, thinking about what happened a few hours ago. That man saved your ass from being eaten, yet he was a complete asshole to you. By what he was wearing, you were sure he was one of the rich. Now it makes so much sense why he was an asshole. You scoffed to yourself, already beginning to hate your saviour. Then again, you’ve always hated the rich for how they treated the poor, including yourself.

Back in the kingdom, Jay walked down a corridor, minding his own business when he heard 2 distinct voices coming from behind a door. He’s not one for eavesdropping but he just couldn’t resist. 

“What do you mean the king has proposed a meeting? A meeting for what?”

“I’m not sure but he said something about something, or someone, wanting to destroy the kingdom, which might lead to hundreds of deaths and he wants to do something to stop it”

Jay’s heart stopped. Something wants to destroy the kingdom? He was deep in thought that he didn’t hear the door opening until it was too late. One of the guards that came out of the room cleared his throat which got Jay’s attention. 

“You ok, sire? You look like you’ve seen a ghost”, one of the guards said, raising one of his eyebrows. “I-i’m fine”, Jay said as he walked off, going towards his room. He closed his door, thinking about what the guards were talking about. Why would someone want to destroy the entire kingdom, wanting to kill hundreds of innocent civilians? 

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

It’s been a few days since your near death encounter, and you’re wandering around the forest, and you know you shouldn’t but your curiosity got the better of you. The sound of leaves crunching under your feet is all you could hear apart from the sound of your breathing, it was that quiet, which was strange. The atmosphere felt heavy around you, your breathing becoming heavy. You felt like someone, or something, was watching you, your movements getting slower. As you turned around, you felt your body being thrown, your body hitting against a tree, knocking you to the ground with a thud.

You groaned as you held the back of your head, trying to sit up. As you eventually managed to sit up, you came face to face with a woman. She had fair skin, long dark hair and her clothes looked dirty, her feet bare. The thing that stood out to you the most, though, was her eyes. They looked cloudy, lifeless. She was looking at you but she also wasn’t. Like, she was looking at you but her focus wasn’t on you. 

You went to get up to go towards her but as soon as you moved, she disappeared. She didn’t turn around and leave, she literally disappeared into thin air. Did you just witness a ghost? You managed to stand up, holding onto the tree for support, when the sound of footsteps startled you, making you turn around. There he was, the same guy who saved you, the asshole.

“I told you to stay out of these woods”, he said, narrowing his eyes at you. You didn’t say anything, just continued holding your head, feeling a lump forming. Suddenly, a whistling sound could be heard around you, making the both of you look in the same direction. A black mist headed towards you, fear running through your body. Jay suddenly grabbed your hand, turning on his heels. 

“Hey, what the fuck are you doing?!” you shouted, wondering what he was doing and where he was taking you. “Do you want to die? Because I can leave you out here if you want to”, he said, raising his eyebrow. You didn’t want to die so you just followed him. Jay jumped onto his horse, helping you onto it after him. He held the reins of the horse, whilst you held onto Jay for support, not wanting to fall off. The horse galloped away, heading out of the woods, heading towards the castle. You turned around to see if the mist was still following you, and to your surprise, it wasn’t. It stayed above the woods, the black mist getting thicker as it surrounded the trees. 

Jay reached the castle, the sound of hooves trotting against concrete as he headed into the grounds of the castle. The horse came to a halt, other knights came running out of the castle. Jay got off the horse, helping you down after him. “Jay, who’s this?”, one of the knights said, when he suddenly recognised you. “Isn’t this the same girl you helped the other day in the woods?” he asked, to which you rolled your eyes.

“I do have a name, you know”, you said, looking between the two. “Well, what is your name because I don’t recall you telling me it”, Jay said, looking at you. You glared at him before telling him your name: Jung Y/N. Just hearing your name made his eyes grow wide. “Wasn’t your mother burnt at the stake for witchcraft? Well, accused of witchcraft”, Jay said, making other knights look at you. You felt uncomfortable with all the eyes on you, glaring at Jay. 

“Shut up”, you muttered under your breath, running into the castle, wanting to get away from all the attention. Jay and his knights followed you, wanting to ensure that the king doesn’t see you. Jay caught up with you and grabbed your wrist, turning you around to look at him. “Don’t just come running into the castle without me, the king might see you and kill you”, Jay said, a hint of fear in his voice, which you weren’t expecting. Why would the king kill you? Jay noticed the confusion on your face, bringing you into a room. He closed the door behind him, pushing you into the middle of the room. 

“I heard a couple of knights talking the other day, after I saved you, talking about someone or something wanting to destroy the kingdom, which could lead to hundreds or thousands of deaths, and if he sees you, someone who he doesn’t know, in his kingdom, he might kill you. He’s been cautious the past few days, being careful about who he lets into the castle. So I would be careful if I were you”, Jay said, his eyes burning into yours. 

“This means I can’t go home, doesn’t it?” you asked, Jay nodding his head. You sighed, running your fingers through your hair. “There’s a spare bedroom which isn’t in use opposite mine, if you want to use that. I mean, only if you want to”, Jay said, his turn to run his hands through his hair. All of a sudden, the sound of thunder boomed loudly throughout the kingdom, making you jump into Jay’s arms. Jay wrapped his arms around you, rubbing your arms up and down, trying to calm you down. You pulled away after a few seconds, apologising. Jay may be attractive, but that doesn’t mean you will fall for his charms. 

A few hours went by, and you're sitting on a bed, which was a lot more comfier than yours. You looked around the room, noticing the details. The red velvet curtains, which had a gold fringe, the textured cream walls detailed with a large gold mirror. There was a knock on the door, making you jump. You called for the person to come in, a woman revealing herself, holding something in her hand. She bowed, putting some clothes on your bed and left without a word. You noticed she put a nightgown on your bed, the material soft underneath your hands. 

You realised it was getting dark outside so you decided to get changed into your nightgown, and turn in for the night. You wondered if the dark mist had moved past the woods, the thought alone just terrified you to the core.

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

You saw your brother and sister, their backs towards you. You raced after them, but the more you ran, the further they got from you. You ran for what seemed like ages, getting nowhere near them. The more you ran, the more your vision became clouded with blood. There was blood everywhere, the sound of your brother and sisters screaming deafened your ears, the screeching became louder and unbearable. You covered your ears, your running came to a stop. 

You dropped to your knees, your vision now blurred with tears. The screaming wouldn’t stop. You screamed for it to stop, shaking your head from side to side. You screamed once more for it to stop, finally being able to hear yourself shout as silence surrounded you. You looked forward, seeing your brother and sister ahead of you, now looking at you. But there was someone standing behind them. It was your mother. 

You shouted at her to leave them alone, but it was no use. She grabbed your brother and sisters shoulders, gripping them. Blood started pouring out of their eyes, nose and mouth. That’s when your mother burst into flames, her screams making your ears bleed.

You woke up with a scream, covered in sweat. Another nightmare. You tried catching your breath, your heartbeat erratic. You managed to calm down after a while, but you couldn’t seem to fall back asleep.

You just laid there, looking up at the ceiling. You laid there for a moment, when the sound of whispering from outside your bedroom door caught your attention. You got out of bed, tiptoed over towards the door and carefully put your ear against the door. The sound of 2 men talking to each other, but you couldn’t quite make out what they were saying. You realised you weren’t going to find out what they were talking about so you turned around and went back to bed but in the process of turning around, you knocked into something and fell over with a yelp.

The door opened, revealing 2 knights, who you assumed were the ones outside your door. You were prepared to get yelled at but to your surprise, the complete opposite happened. “You okay, m’lady?” one of the knights asked, causing you to clear your throat. “I’m okay. Just wanted to stretch my legs since I had a cramp, but I must have tripped in the process of going back to bed”, you managed to come up with an excuse, and luckily the knights believed you, nodding their heads and closing the door behind them as they left. You let out a breath you didn’t realise you were holding in, and got back into bed.

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

Over the course of the next few days, the black mist has gotten closer to the kingdom, a few people in your village getting sick, which ended up with them dying. Everyone in the kingdom is panicking, running around like headless chickens. You and Jay have been helping each other come up with a plan on how to stop whoever, or whatever, is trying to destroy the kingdom. You were in your room whilst Jay was in his, getting ready to go out with the other knights to go on a hunt to the woods. The both of you knew it was dangerous, but you had no other choice. All you had to do was be extra careful.

You laced up your boots, straightened out your clothes (which was given to you by one of the female knights) and looked at yourself in the mirror, before leaving your room. You came face to face with Jay, who nodded at you and headed towards the entrance of the castle, where some of the other knights were waiting. 

You made it into the woods, seeing dozens of dead bodies on the ground. Every single body has blood coming out of their eyes, nose and mouth. They all died the same way your brother and sister died, 8 years ago. Your mother didn’t kill your siblings. Whatever the black mist is, killed your siblings. And it’s come back to destroy the kingdom. 

You didn’t realise you were staring at the dead bodies until you felt someone touch your arm. You came back to reality, looking down at the person touching your arm: Jay. “you ready?” he asked, to which you nodded. You’re not sure what you’re ready for but you’re ready for something. You got off your horse, heading straight into the woods. Once you made it into the heart of the woods, that’s when you saw something, or someone: it was the same woman you saw a few days ago only this time, she looked cleaner.  

“Hey, what are you doing here, it’s dangerous”, one of the knights said to the woman, who didn’t budge. The knight, who’s name you didn’t get, walked towards the woman but that was a bad idea as she grabbed the knight by the neck, breaking it immediately. Is she behind this, or is she being controlled by something?

A few knights ran in the other direction, but the woman seemed to summon something, which grabbed the knights who tried to run away, killing them instantly, ripping some of them in half. It was a bloodbath. You didn’t know what to do as you just stood there, watching everything unfold in front of you. You saw Jay run towards the woman, and that’s when something clicked in you. You ran towards Jay, putting your hand out to try and grab him, but you weren’t quick enough. Jay was thrown against a tree, hitting his head. The woman clawed at his chest, making him scream out in pain. You stood behind her, grabbing her and throwing her backwards away from Jay.

“Leave us alone!” you shouted at her, or whoever she was because she was definitely not human. “You look like your mother”, she said, her voice definitely sounded non-human. You screamed, lunged forward and tackled her to the ground, grabbed the nearest object and whacked her over the head, but that was the wrong thing to do as she threw you backwards, your back hitting the ground. You don’t remember anything after that as everything went black.

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

When you came to, you noticed you were in an unfamiliar room. You also felt… different. You couldn’t describe it though, you just didn’t feel like yourself. You sat up and looked around the room you were in. You definitely weren’t in your room that you were located in. Who’s bedroom are you in? Suddenly a voice broke you out of your trance. 

“Oh thank god you’re awake, I was worried you weren’t going to wake up”, Jay walked over to you, and that’s when you realised he was shirtless. There were marks on his chest, from when he was clawed back in the woods. His hair was wet and slicked back, probably from recently being bathed. You weren’t going to lie, he was very attractive and you won’t deny it. There was something in you that just wanted to mark his neck up and down, which wasn’t like you. 

Jay sat down next to you, placing an arm on your shoulder. He took back his hand with a gasp. “You’re freezing! I’ll get you something more warm to put on”, he went to get up to get you a blanket but you stopped him, not saying a word as you grabbed his wrist. You’re not sure what came over you as you kissed him, smashing your lips against his. His lips were soft, you could taste wine against them, the sweetness hitting your senses. You pushed him on the bed, climbing on top of him, not removing your lips from his.

Jay was confused as to what came over you, but he didn’t stop you. He deepened the kiss, holding your hips as you straddled his waist. You grinded yourself against him, gripping the material of the sheets on the bed, digging your nails into it. Before you knew it, you were underneath Jay, your clothes discarded on the floor. His lips attached to your neck, sucking purple spots on your skin, eliciting a moan from you. You grabbed his clothed cock, palming him through his pants, earning a groan from him. The next thing you knew, you were both naked on the bed, Jay thrusting in and out of you at a reasonable pace.

You arched your back as Jay hits your sweet spot, his cock hitting you in all the right places. You grabbed his buttcheeks, squeezing them as you dug your nails in the flesh of his cheeks, earning a hiss from Jay. You reached up, kissing him, sucking on his bottom lip. You weren’t usually like this. You were on the calmer side of things, like to be soft and sweet. This was a completely different side to you, and you didn’t know what got into you, but Jay loved seeing you like this. You came to your orgasm, your legs shaking as your eyes rolled back, Jay soon coming to his not long after you.

Without giving Jay a chance to breathe, you flipped the both of you over, you now on top. You grinded against his cock, your nails digging into the flesh of his thighs. Moans kept escaping Jay as you continued grinding against him, cum leaking out of his tip and onto his stomach, his abs glistening with cum. You leant down and shoved your face into the crook of his neck, attaching your lips to his skin. You sucked dark purple spots on his skin before latching your teeth into his skin, biting him. Jay hissed as you bit him hard, causing blood to trickle down his neck. Jay was surprised as he loudly moaned at the sensation, making him cum instantly, staining his chest with cum.

Jay laid there as he tried catching his breath, his chest moving up and down at a fast pace. As Jay continued to lay there, you grabbed your clothes, putting them back on without saying anything. You went to leave Jay’s room when you stopped you. “Where are you going?” he asked, looking at you, now sitting up. You just smirked at him, opened the door and left without another word. Jay looked at the door in confusion, wondering what the hell has happened to you. Did something happen to you in the woods?

You walked along the halls, which were lit up by lamps, the only source of light in the kingdom due to it now being dark outside. You put the hood of your cape over your head, your black dress, gliding along the floor with every step you take. You managed to leave the kingdom without being seen, running down the steps, the moonlight being your only source of light to lead you on your way.

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

“Where’s Y/N? I can’t find her anywhere, she’s not in her room”, one of the servants exclaimed, worry evident on her face. She’s been trying to find her all morning, unfortunately with no luck. Jay, Jake, a couple of other knights and the King sat at the table in the great hall, looking at the servant. “What do you mean you can’t find her?” Jay asked, worry now written all over his face. He stood up, making his chair fall backwards. It was the King’s turn to stand up now, towering over the table.

“She probably wandered home since she doesn’t belong here. Jay, you brought her here, didn’t you? She lives in the poor part of the kingdom, right? I want you to go find her and when you do, I want you to kill her, no matter what”, the King ordered, but from the sound of his voice, Jay realised there was something more to this than the King is saying. 

“What do you mean ‘kill her’?! What aren’t you telling us? You can’t keep things to yourself without telling us, sire” Jay said, annoyance in his voice. He kept arguing with the King until the King had enough. “Enough! You do as I say or I will kill you and then kill Y/N myself. Now go!” the King said, slamming his hands down on the table. Jay grumbled before leaving the table, Jake and a few other knights following him. Before they got to the door and left, the King spoke up, his voice full of fear.

“You really want to know what’s happening?” the King said, making them turn around to look at him. The King sat back down, sighing. “8 years ago, the same thing happened across the kingdom. Everyone in the village got sick, ranging from children to adults. I knew Y/N’s parents as I saved Y/N’s mother when she was still pregnant with her. I was just passing by when I saw her standing on top of her bridge, assuming that she was going to jump off, I ran to her and got her down, to which she broke down in tears, her husband running to me holding her. Since that day, I watched them from a distance, keeping an eye on them to see if they’re safe”, he took a deep breath before he continued.

“I continued to watch them from afar for years after that, watching Y/N grow up, as well as her siblings. One day, as I was strolling along through the woods, I noticed something strange. I saw a figure of what seemed to be a woman. They had long black hair, their skin looked pale and their clothes dirty. Though I had a feeling it wasn’t actually a woman, but a spirit. My suspicions were answered when a few days later, the village got infected, children and adults growing ill, dying. It was a bloodbath. When I got to their home, there was blood everywhere. Blood stained beds and carpet, as well as blood on the walls. The house was empty, or at least I thought it was empty until I heard a voice. A female voice. It was Y/N, she was talking to someone, or something. I looked inside a room, and there she was: Y/N sitting on the floor, tear clad cheeks. I saw the same thing I saw a few days prior, sitting in front of Y/N”.

“Get away from her!”, the King yelled, trying to get the thing away from Y/N. The thing ran away, out of the house and back into the woods. But in the process, Y/N got scared and ran in the same direction. What did the spirit want with Y/N?

“Why didn’t you do anything?” Jay questioned. “Because by the time I realised, it was too late! The spirit possessed Y/N’s mother, killing her children, but not before destroying hundreds of lives in the village. But that’s the thing. Y/N’s mother wasn’t supposed to become possessed. It was supposed to be Y/N. And I think that’s why it’s come back”, the King said, fear in his eyes. “Now go, before it’s too late”, the King ordered, Jay and his knights running out of the main hall and out of the castle, hoping to find you before it’s too late. 

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

Jay and his knights wandered into the woods, and the sight they walked into made them frown. There were dead bodies everywhere, blood coming out of their eyes, mouth and nose. Some bodies were torn into 2, some had their limbs missing, and guts were hanging out of their chests. Jake wanted to throw up, to which he did, puking his guts up. Jay walked forward, trying to see any sign that you were there, but he couldn’t find anything. Suddenly, a gust of wind came out of nowhere, making some of the knights almost fall over. Jay saw you in the distance, walking towards them. But you didn’t look like yourself. You were covered in blood. Blood splatters on your face, dress and on the sword you were holding. Wait, sword? Where the fuck did you get a sword from?

“Y/N, what are you doing?” Jay asked, walking towards you slowly. That’s when you spoke up. Except, it wasn’t your voice. “It’s too late. Y/N is gone”, your voice- which wasn’t your voice- sounded demonic. You lifted your arm, putting your hand out. Black mist appeared from behind you, and you pushed your hand out, making the knights behind Jay be thrown backwards, some of them being thrown into a tree, knocking them out. The sound of thunder roared in the distance, lightning lighting up the sky. Rain came pouring down from the sky, making it hard to see in front of you.

“Time to die”, you said, a smirk on your face.

You lifted your bloodied sword, ready to strike. Jay ran forward, holding his sword up. Both swords came into contact with a clang, the force causing vibrations to run through your bodies. You both fought, clashing swords. You sliced Jay’s arm, making him hiss as blood marked his arm. You fought for what felt like hours, losing track of time.

“I will rule the kingdom! It should have been me, not that stupid king. If he didn’t kill me, I would have ruled the kingdom and become Queen! Guess the King isn’t as innocent as everything thinks he is”, you said, smirking at Jay, making him stop in his tracks. “What do you mean?”, Jay asked, lowering his sword, letting his guard down. 

“Ah, he didn’t tell you, did he? He had a wife years ago, who was going to become Queen but become the King was fucking jealous of that, he murdered her in the woods. She thought that they were having a nice day in the woods, going to have a picnic, but he grabbed his sword and struck her right then and there, her body falling to the ground. That was me, I was the wife”, you said, your voice becoming more and more demonic the angrier the spirit got. Suddenly, the King ran out of nowhere from behind Jay, standing in front of him. 

“Guinevere, stop this please!” the King bellowed, hoping that she would stop. But unfortunately for him, that made her more angry. All of a sudden, the King gasped and fell to the ground until his body came to a stop. Blood trickled out of his eyes, nose and mouth. Shit.

“Guess I’ll be Queen after all”, you smirked at Jay, raising your sword, getting ready to strike. Out of nowhere, Jake’s body stepped in front of Jay’s, raising his arms. He grabbed the sword, yelling as the blade dug into the palms of his hands. “Stop it, you bitch”, Jake yelled, managing to grab the sword out of your hand. You screamed like a banshee, making Jay and Jake hold their ears, the sound too painful to listen to.

Jake looked at Jay, giving him a look that said ‘you know what you need to do’, to which Jay nodded. Jake threw the sword to Jay, and Jay ran up to you. He turned you around, putting the sword to your throat. You held onto Jay’s arms, digging your nails into them. “Y/N, if you’re still in there, I’m really sorry for what I’m about to do”, Jay said as he closed his eyes. You chuckled evilly, the spirit inside you preparing for what’s about to happen.

“You can do what you want to me, you’re not going to get Y/N back. She was already dead before I possessed her”, the spirit said, taunting Jay with her words. Jay let go of her and turned her around to look at him. He grabbed the sword with both hands as he yelled, striking the sword right into your chest, a scream leaving you. The spirit possessing you let out a screech, making Jay’s and Jake’s ears bleed. Black mist came out of your mouth, heading towards the sky before it disappeared completely, evaporating. 

Your body dropped to the ground with a thud, the sword still in your chest. Jay wrapped his arms around you, tears staining his cheeks as he sobbed. Jake stood there, not knowing what to do or say. Jay stayed like that for what seemed like hours, just holding your lifeless body. Some of his tears dropped onto where the sword used to be, falling into the wound on your chest. All of a sudden, the wound in your chest started to disappear, the colour in your skin now becoming more full of life. You gasped as you opened your eyes, startling Jay. 

“What happened? How did I get here?” you asked, looking around you, wondering why you were in the woods, and why Jay was holding you. He started crying again, of happiness this time as he hugged you, wrapping his arms around you. “You’re alive, I thought we lost you, oh my god”, Jay cried of happiness. You were confused but wrapped your arms around him, melting into the hug. 

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

You laid in Jay’s bed, looking up at him as he explained what happened to you, and you felt awful. You killed all those people? Including the King? You knew that it wasn’t actually you as you were possessed, but you still felt awful. You started crying as the guilt started eating you up, the whole kingdom is probably going to be scared of you or hate you for what’s happened. Jay was startled as you started crying your eyes out, not knowing what to do. You voiced your feelings, feeling like you were at fault for everything that has happened, even though that it wasn’t you and you shouldn’t feel like that, but you couldn’t help it. 

“Hey, if anyone says anything to you about it or tries to make you feel like shit then, they will have me to deal with, ok?”, he said, smiling softly at you. You returned a smile, smiling up at him. You leaned closer to him, lifting your head up. You gave him a soft kiss on the lips, holding his cheek, rubbing your thumb along the skin. Jay smiled into the kiss, melting into you. You’re not sure what’s going to happen now but what you do know is that you're most definitely in love with Park Jongseong.

[girlactionfigure]

My mom bought me these boots from Zara in Denver a few weeks back. She could feel me sinking into a pit of rage, grief, and hopelessness. So, she came to meet me in Denver and upon landing, took me to walk the mall “just to get out and move through it.” My mother, a miracle, born to a father who was the sole Holocaust survivor in his family, knows a thing or two about battling anger and grief at a world fixated on annihilating Jews and our spirits.

 I've been intimately familiar with the horrors of October 7th since it happened. Like countless Jews, I've meticulously followed every gruesome detail of Hamas' well-planned and well-funded genocide attempt. Every despicable act of torture, rape, and murder – etched into my bones. On top of that, I follow daily the relentless onslaught of people and communities celebrating, erasing, and justifying the slaughter, while denying our right to defend ourselves. Watching old friends ‘like’ and share posts constantly which dehumanize Jews and lie about Israel, putting our lives further at risk. Contending with all of this over the past few months has been unbearable. Like many Jews, I'm haunted both awake and asleep. 

I've been debilitated, struggling to cope with all of it. How do we carry on in a country where so many wish us dead? How do we thrive in a place that dismisses our pain and disregards our countless contributions to society? How do I contemplate having children in a place where their lives aren't valued? How can I coexist with so many people who, at best, couldn't care less about the brutal murders of over 1200, the kidnapping and daily ongoing torture of hundreds more for over 119 days, while the world cheers for the rest of us to be annihilated? How do I sleep at night when all I can think about are the looming threats to Israel and the Jewish people, the treatment of our hostages, and the insidious web of hatred that constantly engulfs our existence? 

When my mom handed me these boots, I thought they might be fitting for Israel, but I didn't really dwell on it. I knew the journey would be grueling. And while I thought I already knew the gruesome details, walking through the aftermath is a different level of knowing. These boots tread through miles of hell – the remnants of homes ruthlessly attacked by a kind of evil I couldn't fathom existed. An evil that deliberately targeted communities of Israelis dedicated to peace, only to be met with beheadings, rape, burning alive, and slaughter.

 These boots tread through miles of desolation – the aftermath of thousands of terrorists and hundreds of so-called "civilians" perpetrating unspeakable acts against over a thousand innocent, peace-loving people. These vile rapists and murderers were the beneficiaries for years of those they heartlessly slaughtered. They were acquainted with so many of these good people, the very people they mercilessly killed. Several of these compassionate Israelis had welcomed these terrorists into their homes for years, offered them work opportunities, and tirelessly tried to help them lead a better life. 

These boots ventured through charred remains, blood-soaked grounds, and homes, bomb shelters, and once-beloved personal spaces and belongings torn apart, covered in bullet holes, reduced to pieces and char – all obliterated by hours of relentless assaults by terrorists armed with thousands of machine guns, fire bombs, and RPGs. Weapons funded, in part, by American and European taxpayers, whose leaders for years knowingly funneled billions into a terror operation whose sole objective is eradicating Israel and every Jew from the map before extending their genocidal ambitions westward. 

After coming back from our third trip to the massacre sites in the south, 

@JordynTilchen

insisted on me wiping these boots down before stepping into our rental, but the weight of what they carried was too immense. I couldn't erase the traces of blood and death that clung to them. Instead, I brought them home with me wrapped in several bags. These boots hold more than just grime; they carry the echoes of unspeakable atrocities and the silent cries of hundreds and hundreds of innocent lives ruthlessly tortured and taken.

 I've decided to give them a burial here, to acknowledge the horrors they tread through, the shattered communities and homes they traversed, and to honor the remains of the once-beautiful lives torn from existence that cling to them. As I do this, I promise to honor not only those brutally murdered and taken hostage, but also those who are risking everything to defend the rest of us. I promise to continue to do my best to not be consumed by what feels like a tsunami of hopelessness, but to pick myself back up and channel this endless grief and anger into meaningful action and resilience.

Eden Cohen ✡︎ עדן כהן

@edencohentweets

[castrianamore]

Bitter, Had the Heart

DC x DP crossover

TW: Mentions of neglect, Abuse, Death. graphic depictions of violence and wounds

Chapter 2: Jason Todd Accidentally Adopts a puppy(That’s definitely not a child)

First Chapter & Ao3 Linked at the bottom of the chapter

Jason had met Distortion in an interesting way. Anyone who had met or interacted with the guy could say that. He himself was an interesting person. Mysterious mostly.

Another person infected by the pits.

Distortion was young. Younger and more skilled than even most who worked for him on the streets. He held himself like a king with smirks and sarcasm hiding his true emotions. He was silly and he was fun and it gave Jason’s heart a ping through the years they had known each other.

Distortion first showed up in Jason’s life 3 years ago sitting the stupidest way on his chair. Head hanging. Goggles covering his eyes on a cracked and broken iPhone. Feet draped over the top. He was also bleeding… a lot.

Blood mixed with the murky pit water green that haunted his vision. He was delirious having given himself apparently the remains of a morphine shot to deal with the pain so he could even get there.

He looked so young and helpless even as he sat up walking over to talk to the gang leader, and promptly dropped in front of Jason unable to hold himself up any longer.

“I need your help…” he whispered. He didn’t have a mask on then… his teeth stained with blood as he weakly smiled in Jason’s arms. “You’re the only one who could ever help me… another Revenant.”

The aching pool of anger in his soul had been quiet that day. It was quiet a lot of the days Distortion was around . Whatever pit waters flowing through Distortion’s veins existed thick enough to Calm Jason’s torrential waves. Jason didn’t mind when he was around because of this.

“Kid you’re…”

“Dying? Tell me about it, if we can,”a wet cough escapes his lips as the blood hits Jason’s shirt. “If we can cauterize the wound I can explain it better but—“

“You need to live first.”

Cue a shaky nod.

And Distortion did explain. He explained a lot.

“What you and I are? Different but similar made from two different types of the same substance. You were made from stuff that’s been far too corrupted. An unfiltered and dirty substance and I was made from the stuff straight from the tap, pure, filtered.”

He had promptly passed out though and Jason left him on his couch. His employees wouldn’t ask about the ungodly screams they heard in his office as they cauterize the wound. Or the amount of water and snacks he would bring up in the following days and weeks of Jason slowly forming an attachment to the kid. He healed faster than most would have, only proving his point of them being two sides of the same coin. Opposites but the same really. Both pit children. Distortion never said the word pit. He didn’t like to talk about it too much except when it became necessary too.

At first their relationship was simple. Distortion owed Jason for saving him, and hiding him. Jason, for once, insisted it was fine, but the masked man stuck around. It was a slow thing at first. Dis insisted on supervising deliveries when Jason was busy. Then keeping an eye out for members he saw on Jason’s desk reporting to him when he saw them. He soon became a consistent part of his daily life and operations.

It came at a cost for Dis though, and Jason knew it. When the bats came around he disappeared only coming back two days later exactly. He kept under the radar. His smiley bright personality was a beacon of good in Jason’s life for the first 6 months of their partnership. He turned a blind eye to Jason’s murdering and questionable actions at times. Not that he did it too much any more. It was partly a deal for keeping Bruce off of his back.

“Don’t you have school?”Jason finally had asked after month six of the teen always hanging around. The kid was laying at the very top of a huge stack of crates and boxes in Jason’s main warehouse and office. Most of it was mundane supplies. Dis was reading a novel. One namely Jason had given him to read to get the kid to leave him alone for a few hours knowing the kid would eventually get bored.

“Nope,”Dis popped his P on his words and rolled over to look down at him setting the book off to the side. “I don’t exist. I died.”

“Right..”Jason had sighed and rubbed his forehead. Mask on his face. He opted for the mask rather than the helmet when doing mundane tasks around his office. If he needed to go out with the bats he could more than likely end up having to put it on.

“Do you want too? You know? Finish school. Go to college?” Jason asked, looking up at the kid who climbed down with far more speed than a normal human jumping and doing a flip to get off the last bit. He was fast, even comparatively to Damian or Dick.

“I like doing this. Keeping an eye out on things that I need too.”

“You never told me what you’re keeping an eye out for Dis. If you tell me, I can help you.”

A solid frown settling into his face.

“I can’t bother you with it.”

“Kid, yes you can. You and I have to stick together, you know that.”

“I don’t have too. I could leave at any time I wanted too.” A frown settling across his face slowly.

“You can and you do. You know I never ask questions. I never press you for anything you never wanna tell me, but you’re a fucking teenage. You should be going to school and studying. I have a program you can join. I can get you a fake identity. No one will be any the wiser.” Except the bats, but he would do anything to make sure Dis stayed far far under their radar. He’d been managing it for months, and he could continue doing it as long as necessary.

“But I should be here to help you. Keep an eye out for you. To-to look out for the entire reason I can’t leave!”

“You can leave Dis. You can leave anytime you want to.”

“I don’t- I can’t!”The kid exclaimed. Now Jason was confused. The kid couldn’t leave despite just saying he could. Maybe he knew he could leave Jason, but when where couldn’t he leave from?

“I would much prefer you stay close Dis.. if I’m being honest.” A quiet moment of realness. It wasn’t that much of a surprise that Jason had gotten attached. It seemed to trigger something in Distortion that night though.

“I don’t have a choice in that matter, Hood!” He had exclaimed back and looking back on that night two and a half years ago maybe Dis had been revealing so much to him but he couldn’t see it. He was trying to help Dis and all Dis was giving him was attitude.

“I can’t just leave Gotham like you! I can’t just go off and do research in this city. All my answers lie in this cursed city, her streets winding and painful and blood soaked and never giving me anything useful!”

“She gave you me..” Jason had admitted whole heartedly maybe more sentimental than he had meant for it too. ‘She gave you this friendship we share. Our connection. Only we can relate to each other. If we separate, where does that leave us, alone? Again?”

“I’ve been operating alone, Hood, for longer than you know.”

“And so have I?! I enjoy your company. Is that too much to ask that I want to make sure you’re cared for and have all the options for success? I’ve always treated you as a fucking equal, yet now I see you’re nothing more than a child.”

“And you’re nothing more than a fool who can’t see the obvious in front of him.”

“Fine. You don’t want to take up my offer of school, you don’t want to talk to me? Like an adult? I want to help you Dis. You know I do. I want to see you succeed and find whatever it is you’re looking for. Whatever it is you’re patiently waiting for it to happen, but if you’re not going to treat me as an equal back then we have nothing more to say to each other Dis.” Hood had gone too far and even he had realized that. He had been a mentor to this kid. He had let the kid look up to him and now that kid was seeing his mentor betray him. A feeling far too reminiscent of his own past for his liking.

It re-awoke the pit lingering in his soul again. That anger was back.

“Good bye, Hood.”

“Dis… I’m sorry.”

“No. You’re right. I’m a child.” Dis looked up at Hood. For a second the man thought he could see piercing angry and broken blue eyes behind his goggles. A familiar look. And he left the building the door slamming behind him. He cared far more for that kid than he cared to admit.

Even the bats had noticed his anger return. They had questioned him about it but he had explained he had it handled and not to worry. Dick had confronted him about away from everyone too asking if he had been in a relationship but even he couldn’t hide everything from his eldest brother. Dick could see through him. Even if he saw it the wrong way. Jason moved on. He had no choice.

But the thing with Dis was that he had shitty timing. Shitty and meaningly timing lined up with stupid puns that made you snort and sarcasm that left you unable to breath from laughter. So as Jason stepped into one of his safehouses mask off completely having just gotten out from a fight that for sure broke one of his ribs and even had the bats called. He called them and then bolted. Let the batman and the demon handle that one. Not under his supervision. They didn’t have to know he had even been there at all.

He had realized he was not alone. Met with the heart wrenching scene of a much more worn Dis. The man was pale. Paler than last time which he hadn’t even known was possible. The man leaned against the wall with a tray in front of him a bullet sitting neatly in it. Hands shaking pretty badly blood pooling around him.

“Shit,”he whispers out with a smile across his face. “Hiya Hood.”

And Jason’s heart shatters. He goes on autopilot running to his bathroom and grabbing the rest of his emergency first aid kneeling next to Dis. The man pulls his goggles off of his head and throws them to the side and Jason could feel his heart drop. He was so tired. Deep circles sat under Dis’ eyes. An all too familiar blue staring back at Jason.

“What, you had your mask off it’s only fair.” If Dis hadn’t had that stupid ability to calm the Pit inside of him he would already be wanting to go off and kill whatever or whoever it was that decided to fuck with one of his own. His Dis. His bro--

“Have I ever told you about my past at all?”A nervous chuckle escapes from his lips.

“Dis, I swear to fucking god you’re not dying today.”He hisses getting the others familair branded jacket off of him and lifting the black shirt up a bit to see the extent of the damage. This was not good. 4 bullet holes. He leaned him forwards. Only one exit wound. Dis had managed to get one out by himself but that left two more inside of him.

“I know… maybe. I don’t even know if I can die, right?” A slow deep breath from the kid as he seemed to debate on taking another. On if he wanted to take another or if he wanted to just give up then and there.

“Trust me your pulse says otherwise kid,”Jason hisses and moved to lay Dis on the floor grabbing a pillow from his couch to put under his couch. “Talk to me. What about your past did you want to tell me?”

“I died by electrocution, you know? I have the lichtenberg scars and everything. It was a lab accident.”

“Sounds not much more pleasant than mine. I was beaten to death with a crowbar,”Jason admits just trying to keep him talking. His shirt rolled up, he poured the disinfectant alcohol over a pair of tweezers. “Keep talking Distortion.”

“I was 13 about to turn 14 when my parents-- their experiment failed and fuck I was so dumb and my friends convinced me to go inside of it, and it turned on with me inside,”A sob escaped his lips as Jason forced the tweezers in his abdomen and Danny grit his teeth letting out a cry. “And now I can’t even go home to tell them how much I was sorry I was gone for so long.”

“You never left Gotham.”

“I can’t.”

“Dis…”

“If I’m going to die someone needs to know my name. The ancients will come for me eventually right? I’ll be a ghost… i'm in their hands at that point.”

“You’re not going to die Dis--”

“My name is Danny.”

Jason found the bullet pulling it out and setting it in the tray. The kid was crying. Jason moved to get the other one out. Talking. Wait yes. Talking. Keep the kid talking.

“Nice to meet you Danny… I’m Jason.”

He went to the other bullet causing the other to cry out in pain again ice spreading around them catching him off guard. He barely had time to get the bullet out before things wanted to ice over. The temperature in the room plummeted. Even for a meta Danny’s pain tolerance was high. It showed just how much he had grown accustomed to the streets.

“You’re a meta?” Jason asks softly making sure there was no malice in his voice. A weak laugh escaped Danny’s lips panting in pain. A tear slipping down his cheek.

“Yeah, sorry. Forgot to mention that, I got cold feet you know?”

Jason snorted. There he was. There was his kid. He was bad at puns ,but… Danny needed something to cling too. He continued to talk, and the more he did, the more his heart broke. Danny apparently had had two friends named Sam and Tucker. They were his ride or die. He told Jason of his sister who protected him and practically raised him amongst their household of neglectful and abusive parents who barely fed or paid them any mind. Jason was glad he had gotten away. When Jason had asked about that Danny had gone quiet. He stitched Danny up and had him drink water and have a snack. He treated Danny’s smaller wounds. A broken rid or two and his arm had been fractured from what Jason could tell.

Their relationship had gotten much better…

Jason had nursed his own broken ribs as he spent the next few weeks taking care of the kid. The man being in and out of consciousness for the next week and a half. A few times Jason wasn’t sure he was going to make it.

Even as he healed though Jason realized just how sickly he looked. Those dark circles never went away. His skin remained pale. He remained looking sickly. Jason had asked him about that too but he brushed it off like it was nothing. He wouldn’t find out the truth for another few months.

The two lived separately as the next year passed. Jason privately funding Danny’s college at Gotham U. The man acting on his own and doing what he wanted.

“You’re getting too close Danny.”

“You’re being overbearing again Jason,”Danny stuck his tongue out at the older man reading a text book while laying on the couch. The laptop playing a podcast going on about something from space. Jason threw his phone on top of the book. The texts between his brother and the bats on the screen showing the texts from Tim.

“Okay so I got seen I got caught! They didn’t track me. They’re not going to find me. I won’t let them.”

Jason tried not to notice how sickly he had grown. Lessened appetite. Sunken in cheeks. Dark circles, always tired. Always just exhausted. The young adult was pushing himself and he was getting sicker. Prone to getting fevers that were especially dangerous for the ice meta. One time Jason had to throw Danny in the river to get him to cool down enough in the middle of winter because he couldn’t get ice to the apartment much faster. It was what worked, he guessed.

“You’re my underling to them Danny! I’ve kept you under their radar for 3 fucking years!” Jason poked fun at him as he moved to make food for them both. They had a habit of forgetting but Jason and Danny had dinner once a month at the very least. More common than Jason would go see his actual family. They tended to stop by unannounced which was why Jason and Danny always had their dinners at Danny’s place which was right past Crime Alley. Leaving was the main thing he normally had to keep an eye out for. “Do you want to stay hidden or not?!”

Jason’s eyes scanned across Danny’s apartment. College textbooks scattered around the area. The TV didn’t work so he had gotten rid of it ages ago replacing it with a desk with his laptop on top. Maps of the stars were painted on the walls haphazardly. A topic Danny seemed to enjoy and he enjoyed listening to him talk about in the first place. It was like watching the kid light up. A sharp cough and Danny rubbing his chest told Jason one thing was for sure.

“Taking your medicine?”Jason asked despite knowing the answer as he opened the medicine cabinet where the mostly filled container sat.

“Uhhh… yeah. I did.”

“Liar.”

“Nosey bitch.”

“Says you.”

Danny flipped him off as he caught the container that was thrown at him giving him a final sticking out of his tongue. Danny opened the container pulling out the pill making eye contact with Jason before popping it into his mouth and swallowing.

“You’re like trying to get a child to take their vitamins I swear to god,”Jason rolled his eyes as Danny threw the container back at him. Jason had convinced the man to take some sort of medicine for his shitty body. Danny refused a doctor and all of those tests so they had to make due. Danny took a lot of medicine overall. Some anti-anxiety medication, depression meds(that jason may or may not have been supposed to be taking), as well as some medicine to help with his heart. His heart acted up a lot and it gave Danny a lot of issues in school. Jason swore it wasn’t just his meta powers affecting the man. His heart also didn’t help his already naturally cold body.

“Nah this is easier than you trying to get me to read a classic novel.”

“They’re good Danny.”

“They’re old Jason,”Danny replied snapping his own textbook shut. Jason catching glimpse of the cover.

“Reading up on the transdimensional portal theory?”he chuckles.

“It’s interesting, okay! Didn’t that one dude, what’s his name apart of the super hero girl scout club thingy? He runs really fast?” God did Jason love this kid.

“You mean Flash.”

“YEAH HIM! Didn’t he manage to do it once?” Maybe one day Jason could introduce Danny to his family. One day when Danny wasn’t investigating a very serious murder. One day when he wasn’t so sickly. He also just wanted Danny to look the justice league in the face and mis-name them all. The kid recognized no one. Even now he’d never been out of the city and rather didn’t care for anything outside of it anyways. Jason tried to take him to Bludhaven once and still, to no avail.

“I think so,”Jason grabbed a pan and began to cook the impossible meat for their tacos. He moved to cut some tacos and other vegetables. Was that a fucking batarang?

“Did you get attacked by one of the Bats when you ran into them?!?!” Jason exclaimed looking over at Danny.

“Uhhhhh… no?”

“Danny!”

“I’m fine just hit me in the leg!”

“Let me see it you dumb fuck.”

“Bitch.”

“I’m the one taking care of you!”

“Ancients your worse than Jazz,”he groaned moving to set his hand on the table rolling up his pants to show a neatly wrapped wound that was bleeding through. Cue a groan from Jason as he walked over sitting on the coffee table and moving Danny’s leg into his lap as he unwrapped it to double check the wound. He knew Danny could take care of himself. That was an unspoken rule with how injured he constantly got. Like he was used to fighting a different way than he currently did.

The wound was a clean cut and Danny had already seemed to clean around it at some point. It helped that all of the bats kept their batarangs sharp so he was thankfully for that. “This needs stitches Danny…”

“It’s not that bad,”Danny tried to move to rewrap the wound but Jason stopped him giving him a dangerous look and Danny’s hands went up.

“Okay fine.” He leaned back arms crossed. Jason could tell he was a little upset. He got up being gentle with his leg setting it off to the side going for Danny’s first aid kit and moving to get to work on sewing the wound shut. Danny flinched and occasionally made a small noise of discomfort but he handled it well.

“Wanna talk about that case of yours since I’m going to be covering your ass until forever if you don’t lay the fuck, low.” A mild threat.

“15 bodies! 15! The oldest dating back to when we first met in Gotham. They were slow at first you know? Only 2 murders the first year, each one more gruesome than the last. 5 the second year and now on year 3 and we have 8 within the first 6 months. These numbers? They’re only going to grow.”

“Each one with the same traits. Missing heart. Tortured victims. Ghost Speak on the walls.” A defining indifference between when. Danny constantly joked he was far closer to being dead than alive with Jason. He just a ‘hop skip and a jump’ away or really Danny’s favorite line he just had to jump 2 times ‘till he was among the dead and maybe do a little cha cha real smooth on his way over. Danny knew ghost speak. Was fluent in reading, writing, and speaking it but he wasn’t far enough over to the dead side to automatically know it. Danny’d been teaching him though.

“And an occasional missing kidney that someone wanted for a snack,” Jason clarified having heard the details of this case 20 times over.

“The ghost speak is the same every time,”he groaned as Jason hit a particularly harsh part of the stitching. “Belong, to live, to die, again, trust not the living friend.”

“That’s so cryptic.”

“You’re telling me I’ve been staring at it in my notes for 3 years.”

“You can’t leave the city until you solve the case?”

“I refuse to leave the city until I solve this case,”Danny clarified.

“Then you’ll continue to work on college, besides I like our monthly dinners.”

“You’re acting like I wouldn’t come back?”

“Wouldn’t you? You’ve known this place and only this place for a while. I wouldn’t shame you for not wanting to spend a second more here.”

“I don’t think I could stay away from Gotham even if I tired,”Danny shrugged. “She has a way of drawing people who need to be here back.”

“So any hints on who’s doing these murders?”

“Someone who knows Ghost Speech?”

“Wow, what a lead. I know you have more than that, come on.”

“They’re leaving trace amounts of ectoplasm around so they’re either a revenant like you and I,”a lie. He had known the kid had been lying saying he was a revenant. He was something more really. Even Jason could pick that up, but if the kid didn’t wanna tell him he sure as hell wasn’t going to pry.

“And your final theory?”

“It’s a ghost. A powerful one that’s making Gotham it’s haunt, but Gotham only has so much ectoplasm to go around you know? And I mean I—“he cut himself off.

“And you?”

“And I know that getting the pure shit is hard as fuck. This shit is pure,”he reaches across to grab a vile on the table. Uncorking it and giving it a swirl. “Hard to find in this area especially. So he must have either a portal or something to keep himself together, he’ll need something to sustain himself with especially with how powerful he is if he’s showing up and doing this much damage.”

“Can you take care of it alone?”

“In this state? No.”

“Danny you have been saying you haven’t been on your full power for years. You need help, more than just I alone can offer. Do you want to take a risk?”

“… what is it.” Jason finished wrapping his leg going to to check on the food taking a deep breath.

“What if we finally make you known to the bats. It’ll drive Red Robin insane he hadn’t noticed you sneaking around for such a long time and on top of that you knowing more about his case than he does. Just Nightwing and Red Robin and then we can reveal to B and Robin and the rest of them at a later date.”

“You just want to see my entire existence fuck with the bats don’t you?”

“Maybe, besides.. they have resources maybe we can talk to them about your condition Danny. On top of all their resources and meta resources available. They even have connections to those in the mystic field if it is a Ghost.”

“No. I’ll work with them. They do not get to know about my heart. It isn’t a problem in the field, and we’re not bringing in JL Dark.” Weird. Jason never mentioned the groups name. How did he know about Dark?

“Admit it, your heart is dying you fucking need surgery Danny!”

“I’m fine,” a low growl escaped Danny’s throat.

“No you’re not! We are just praying this medicine is working and the more you use your abilities the more strain it puts on you as a whole let alone on your heart! You keep using them and you’ll be dead.”The cold green eyes glare caught his attention and Jason knew to back off as he finished their food. Push Danny too far and it would trigger his abilities even more and while Jason wouldn’t be affected who knows how thick the ice would be across the apartment. He set tacos in front of him to distract them as they put on some cheesy book movie, Pride and prejudice. Well Jason didn’t have think it was cheesy, Danny on the other hand? Thought it was dumb as all hell. He put up with it because Jason asked him too. A sign He wasn’t that mad at the elder.

The night was quiet after that. Maybe Jason had pushed a little too far. He opened his phone after Danny had passed out on his shoulder shooting a text to the group chat between him, Dick and Tim.

Little Wing is Online🟢

Little Wing: I have a friend who says he’s willing to finally meet you guys

Tim’s reply was almost instantaneous.

Baby Bird is Online 🟢

Baby Bird: Is it distortion?

Little Wing: The one and only.

Big Bird: Who is that?

Baby Bird: Do you ever go offline Greyson?

Big Bird: Bold of you to assume I sleep

Baby Bird: And you think I do?

Big Bird: Touchè; anyways who are we meeting?

Baby Bird: A new vigilante

Big Bird: ohhhh, when and where Little Wing!

Little Wing: Friday. Midnight, my warehouse. Bats doesn’t find out yet. He’s hesitant about even meeting you.

Big Bird: Wait who is Distortion exactly and why are we meeting him?

Baby Bird: How were you ever a Robin?

Big Bird: My charms 💅💅💅💅

Little Wing has gone Offline 🔴

Big Bird: NOOOOOOO BABY BRO COME BACK I NEED TO GET A GOOD A ROAST IN BEFORE YOU LEAVE

Baby Bird: You’ll get him next time old man.

Big Bird: YOU LITTLE

Baby Bird has gone Offline 🔴

Big Bird: ALL ALONEEEEEEEEEE

Chapter 1

[my-castles-crumbling]

if your still looking for some prompts… here’s a dialogue one for drarry: “are you drunk?”

Pairing: Drarry, Rating: T, Universe: Hogwarts Eighth Year, Warnings: 18-year-olds drinking, angst

Tomorrow, it would be a year.

A year since the Dark Lord had fallen, a year since Vincent had died, a year since life had changed forever.

He tried to feel grateful, to stay positive and thankful and humble, but it was hard. It was hard to look at the bright side- that he was alive and so was his family- when he had to dodge hateful curses daily and visit his father in Azkaban on a monthly basis.

Hogwarts had been a condition of his probation- a year of being looked after and watched closely by the Professors and the other students. He'd been indifferent about it at first. At least until he'd found out Potter was returning as well.

Potter had gotten multiple offers for jobs- the Aurors, the Cursebreakers, the Unspeakables. Why he'd chosen to return to school was beyond Draco. But somehow, they both ended up back in Scotland, students again, and at a clear crossroads.

But it had been clear very quickly that neither was in any place to want to fight- Draco was done with war in any sense of the word, and Potter was shockingly forlorn for someone who had taken down the most powerful dark wizard of all time, thereby saving most of his friends and family.

Really, every time Draco witnessed someone thank Potter, or even addressed his past efforts at all, Potter seemed downright mournful.

And Draco couldn't help but staring at Potter, following his every move, watching, a tad too transfixed, as Potter blundered his way through their eighth year. Perhaps it was the way Potter seemed to want to disappear into the very floorboards of the castle when he got attention, or the way Potter seemed almost haunted in his expressions. Or maybe it was the fact that, for the first time, Draco was able to acknowledge his more-carnal emotions and admit that Potter was quite fit and not at all bad to look at.

But it was undeniable that both he and Potter were struggling.

So, with less than twenty hours until the "Battle of Hogwarts Memorial Gala," Draco was only a little surprised to see Potter sitting alone by the lake, staring out into the dark water. He was more surprised by the bottle of firewhiskey accompanying the Chosen One.

"Potter...are you drunk?" he asked before he could stop himself, making the other man jump.

Potter got ahold of himself and chuckled. "That's the goal."

Draco knit his eyebrows together. "Why?"

"It helps me forget. Care to join?" Potter muttered, waving the bottle towards Draco.

It was all he could do not to ask if he was being pranked. Instead, he sat down hesitantly, wrapping his long fingers around the bottle. Figuring if he was going to play into this insanity, he might as well go for broke, he took a large swig, relishing a bit in the burn in his throat. "Would've thought you'd be...dunno...celebrating," he murmured, passing the bottle back to Potter.

Most people were. He knew that all of the houses were having parties tonight, and there were going to be afterparties again tomorrow. Though people were obviously mourning the anniversary of the death of loved ones, the date was mostly a reminder that Voldemort was gone, and parties seemed like the most logical way to celebrate that.

Not that Draco felt he should participate.

"Can't see celebrating a night that was so devastating," Potter replied, slurring only a little.

And for once, Draco agreed. He took another drink from the bottle and didn't reply.

"They want me to make a stupid speech tomorrow," Potter offered, not meeting his eyes. "Talk about...hope and...Merlin, and bright futures and how everything's fucking lovely now."

Draco couldn't help but snort derisively.

"S'bullshit, isn't it?" Potter asked, finally turning to him. "People are dead and I--we are still...still hurting...but let's send this message of-- of like-- fucking optimism, or something. Meanwhile, I have no idea what to do with my life, we graduate in a month, and I still can't get...these images of everyone I care about dying out of my head."

Draco felt his heart clench. It was almost insane to realize, but he could relate to what Potter was saying. He had no idea what to do with himself now that the war was over. So much of his every waking thought had been wrapped around how to stay alive and keep the people he cared about alive. Now...now he didn't know what to do with all that emptiness in his brain. And celebration seemed like an odd concept with people dead and displaced and rebuilding and he still couldn't get over the feeling that Voldemort was constantly watching him- living with the Dark Lord could do that to you.

And it seemed, amazingly, Potter could understand a lot of that.

It seemed the alcohol was also starting to hit his bloodstream, because his only reply was, "What if we both go away? To...to America, or something? Just disappear. Wonder what they'd do?"

It was just the first thing he thought, the first thing that popped into his head, a wish to get away from everything and everyone. But Potter gave him an odd look. "Together?" he asked incredulously.

But now the idea was intriguing and even though they no longer fought like children, Draco still felt like he couldn't show weakness in front of Potter, so he couldn't back down. So instead, he threw Potter a challenging grin and teased, "You've gotten multiple offers from the Aurors, Potter. I think you could handle one Death Eater if things go South."

But the light in Potter's eyes faltered. "Ex Death Eater. R-right?" he corrected, a bit unsure of himself.

Draco faltered, too, smile sliding off of his face. "Merlin, Potter. Y-yes, I mean, if we're being technical-"

"But...you regret it, right?" the other man asked, studying him closely.

It was a difficult question, and one not best answered while under the influence of alcohol, but Draco took another swig and did his best. "I...I was trying to protect my family. Myself. Surely you understand...I thought I had no choice," he took a deep breath, trying to steady himself. "But I never wanted to hurt anyone. And I never...I know how wrong I was. About-- about blood, and its importance. I'm trying to learn."

It was true. Though Muggle Studies was another condition of his probation, he had thrown himself into his studies, and realized that Muggles were rather interesting. He even had developed a lot of respect for them- it took a lot of intelligence, he realized, to find ways to survive without magic.

He had also taken the time to write apology letters to every Muggleborn he'd bullied, talking extra care with Granger's letter. He still found her to be an annoying know-it-all, and he told her so, but he respected her intellect and power.

"Hmm..." Harry hummed in response to his answer.

"Why do you care?" Draco asked before he could stop himself.

"What?"

"Why do you care whether or not I regret it?" Draco clarified, narrowing his eyebrows.

Harry shrugged, but he turned a bit pink. "It...it makes it a bit easier that you do, I guess," he said vaguely.

And Draco had no idea what that meant.

"D'you ever wonder what it'd be like if he didn't exist? Voldemort?" Harry asked, laying back on the grass lazily.

Draco contemplated that. He couldn't imagine that-- what would Potter have been like if he was raised with parents and without a price on his head? "In what way?"

"Dunno. For us, for example," Harry whispered.

He chuckled. "Do you really think it would've been that different? I can't see a world in which we would've-- what?-- been childhood friends?"

Harry also laughed, but said, "You never know. The Hat considered putting me in Slytherin."

"Bullshit," Draco retorted without thinking.

"Nah. I told it not to because--" Harry started laughing in earnest, now, "--well, amongst other things, because I thought you were a prat."

And the alcohol in Draco's system stopped him from being defensive at this, instead drawing embarrassing snorts from him that made his face turn pink.

And before long, they were both in a full-blown fit of laughter, laying next to each other, tears of mirth running down their faces.

And for the first time in a very long time, Draco felt alive.

"H- Potter?" Draco asked as their laughter died down. "You- you should skip the Gala tomorrow." He wasn't sure where the suggestion had come from, but he was pretty confident it was the right idea, now.

And Harry met his eyes and looked at him for a long time before murmuring, "Only if you skip with me."

And Draco found himself giving a small smile and nodding, actually looking forward to the next day.

---

Keep sending requests, guys! I love them!

I decided to post this one! Please leave comments and kudos here!

[kangen-wanshi]

Devotion ft. Squirrel Fish: Nameless

The Nameless Food Soul has always been convinced that he brings nothing but death wherever he goes. But when the Master of Kongsang proves him wrong, it seems like his devotion slowly grows deeper than before..

Tags: Fluff, reader is referred to as 'the Master', he/him pronouns used

The hands that were made to wield a blade.. Now are tasked to wield a hoe..?

Those were the first honest thoughts that came to Squirrel Fish's mind when the master of Kongsang assigned him a role to guard over the farm's coop. As a Food Soul residing in the realm, he has no reason nor will to defy the Master's order, but this lifestyle, this peaceful intervals between his daily work in defeating Food Demons feels.. Overly too domestic for him.

Of course, despite this new unfamiliarity, he never protested nor went against such a peaceful idea of living. He even thought, when he first came to Kongsang, other Food Souls would look at him in the bad light due to his past, but such judgment never came.

Dumpling who is assigned to guard the pen next to him, has always greeted him with a smile and an offer of his medical assistance should he need it. Spring Roll and Mugwort Dumpling occasionally calls him brother - and even goes as far as asking him to play and walk with them. Even the outgoing and extroverted Oyster Omelet sometimes asks him to come down to the beach together. 

He enjoyed this type of life. A happy, peaceful life where he can serve as the Master's blade against any foe, all while still being able to receive the gift of domesticity in life with other Food Souls. His sins and crime from the past may haunt his bones still, but at least, he can seek some sort of redemption through this lifestyle.

That day was like any other day at the farm. Dumpling is tending to the animal stock by himself, while Mugwort Dumpling and Spring Roll are off collecting flowers on the outskirts of the farm, leaving mostly him to guard the area, as well Oyster Omelet who passed out nearly an hour ago.

Although today is a bit different. The Master of Kongsang visited the farm himself. Usually during a visit, he would assign an upgrade to one of the available facilities to improve quality and quantity of ingredients, but with the lack of files and equipment he carries, it seems like he has other plans today.

The Master smiled as he spotted the only available Food Soul in the farm with a wave of hand, he took a seat at the open balcony, tapping the empty space next to him, encouraging the nameless Food Soul to join him in a conversation. 

Squirrel Fish follows his order without hesitation. He have always been like so - free, yet obedient still until the very end as he took a careful approach next to the Master of Kongsang with a small bow and a nod, "Master," he calls out to the demi-god, "What brings you to the farm today? I thought we were holding a banquet at the restaurant?"

"Oh, that's already finished," the Master chuckled, waving his hand dismissively, "Hu-Geng, Clay and Buddha's Temptation helped a lot during today's banquet, so we managed to finish earlier than expected. The rest is still cleaning the kitchen right now."

"I see.." His head falls for a moment, "Forgive me that I couldn't be of assistance to you in serving the guests, Master. I.. May be diligent with the blade, but when it comes to serving food —"

Before he could proceed with his words of degradation upon himself, he stuttered, and stopped himself completely as he felt a weight on his lap.

In his attempt to stop the Food Soul from continuing to speak badly about himself, the Master of Kongsang had laid his head on his lap, carefully looking up to him from behind his bangs.

"Are you going to continue?" He simply asks, hand reaching over to brush a leaf off of Squirrel Fish's shoulder, before resting both of his hands on top of his stomach.

Squirrel Fish often degrade himself to such a degree. Saying that he's not worthy of staying in Kongsang due to the fact that he only brings death and not delight as a dish. And everytime, the Master of Kongsang kept proving him wrong. He kept convincing the nameless Food Soul that he's worth more than he is - and that he deserves the good that comes to him. Such as this very specific moment where he, yet again, is caught tongue-tied by the Master's action.

So he only shook his head quietly. Pink lavender eyes staring down at the Master's tired face with a gentleness no one thought he could possess. His hands are stiffly kept on his side, afraid that if he moves even an inch, he might disturb the Master's rest, or worse, makes him uncomfortable of his presence. 

Noticing his hesitation, the Master sighed before taking one of his gloved hands in his own, and placing it on top of his head, "You can touch me," he quietly chuckled, "It's not like you'll be given a death sentence just for playing with my hair."

Sometimes, he wonders what type of technique the Master possesses that he can do with no remorse or shame. He himself can barely commit to the action, stiffly and awkwardly patting the Master's head, earning a few light giggles and slight blush.

"Squirrel Fish," the Master calls out with a content hum as the Food Soul's movement slowly becomes more gentle and more comforting. Caressing the Master's hair, as well as his forehead and the bridge of his nose gently as his eyes slowly shut, drowsiness slowly taking over.

"Thank you for staying with us, here, in Kongsang," he chuckled, "I wouldn't know what I'd do without you."

Anything for you, Master.

I'll put my life on the line for you.

My memory of you may be gone, but a warrior's body will always remember. And this feeling,

Even if I forget it a thousand of times,

Even if a thousand lives will pass,

I'm sure, everytime we meet,

I'll always remember.

He didn't even get to say any of his thoughts as the Master drifted off to slumber under his touch and the gentle breeze of Kongsang. Light snores and gentle breathing, warm cheeks and slightly agape lips. He doesn't dare wake the Master up just to hear his selfish confession. 

So he stayed, and he kept the Master company and comfortable, just like how he always does, and how he always will.

Spring Roll and Mugwort Dumpling came back to decorate the Master's sleeping head with a flower crown, Buddha's Temptation was looking in envy from the kitchen, while it took everything from Harbin Fried Pork not to scold the Master for slacking off during cleaning duty.

[shouldhavebeenpersephone]

I Want You by Mitski is a Camilla Hect song.

This song is meant to be about one-sided romantic love or whatever, I don't care I don't care I don't care. Cam and Pal are platonic soulmates/codependent idiots and this is about them actually.

Hear me out.

Throughout NtN we see Cam repeatedly wanting Palamedes there. When Nona accidentally hears their recorded conversations, she expresses that she does not care if she gets hurt - she wants Palamedes to exist still. ("I've carried you, Warden. And I've carried your memory... I'd rather carry you")

[verse 1]

I want you

I hold one card

That I can't use

But I want you

Palamedes still existing is also a huge advantage they have that the BOE is unaware of. Pal being in Camilla's body especially helps, because he is less likely to be hurt by Varun and can basically peek out whenever needed - except he can't. The one time Pal and Cam join forces, Camilla goes into thanergy shock. He is of no real use to them except sentimental, he is eating at her from within and yet she still carries him. Additionally we get a double meaning here; Camilla is forced to appear mournful and not show her cards to hide Palamedes and keep him safe.

Flashback time to post-GtN! The image of Camilla walking into the room Palamedes exploded in haunts me on a daily basis. This verse can be taken both literally and figuratively.

[verse 2]

I found you

I found the door

But when I stepped through

There was no floor

Literally: Canaan House was old as shit. Palamedes blowing the floor out along with himself is much more likely than the room remaining unharmed. Yet she risked her life, scaled a half sunken-in room, probably had to scrape Palamedes' remains off the walls, and she reassembled him. No matter how ready she could have been, nobody can be ready for something like that.

Figuratively is what I find a bit more appealing though. In the short story Tamsyn wrote about the Sixth as young teens, it's so painfully evident that these two do not know how to exist apart from each other. Super unhealthy I wish it were me. For example, Camilla has a lot of things figured out, but she relies on Palamedes to piece it together. Palamedes knows how to work a puzzle, but he relies on Camilla to be his eyes and ears. Camilla notes that he enjoys 'teaching' her, but to me it came across more like neurodivergent "same hat" behaviour - he knows that Camilla is thinking the same thing. They know each other so well, that when something is obvious to him, he doesn't even need to consider Camilla might have to be told what he is thinking - she might, however, have input he hadn't yet considered. When Camilla finds him and sees that he was successful (and thus that he is gone), her foundation she has had for most of her life is gone. They were each other's flesh. Each other's end. Without him, there is nothing, no future, no ground to stand on.

And then they find Ianthe Naberius and grabbing his opportunity Palamedes is back - sort of. He is back, and she is dying, and they can act together again, and she is so relieved, and she is so tired. It is the end of the world. They are going to open the Tomb and whatever is in there will be the Emperor's death, and he is the world.

[pre-chorus]

You're coming back

And it's the end of the world

We're starting over

And I love you, darling

And I am done, dear

But also - it is the end of Palamedes, the end of her world. They have thought this through, they know what they are attempting, they know what it will take, they know they will not make it out. But the key here is that neither of them will make it out. They are ending, and they are ending together, and they are starting over, and Paul is born from the ashes. There is also something special, to me, about the comparison between And I love you, darling/And I am done, dear and Life is too short and love is too long. Camilla is very actively dying. Palamedes is ready to gamble with his own life the moment he knows there is no other way out for Camilla. And they love each other. And they are done. And it's that life-outlasting love that creates Paul.

And here, we are taken back again. I see the house as Camilla's inner world, and the car as her outer world (think DID, when alters are not fronting, they recede to an inner world which for many people is some sort of house I believe). Camilla is in the driver's seat, and Palamedes is inside, and he is so close, yet she cannot just go in and meet him. I wonder if they dreamt together. I wonder if they could see each other at all while Camilla too was in her own subconscious. I wonder I wonder I wonder, and I cannot help but think they could not.

[chorus]

You're in the house

And I am here in the car

I just need a quiet place

Where I can scream

How I love you

And then I remember the chapter where Nona kisses her knuckle for the first time. When Camilla sits in the dark bathroom, curled up in the bathtub - for hours. I wonder if she ever came back with her own hand cradling her face. I wonder if she ever cherished the ache of her wrist because Palamedes is left-handed and she is not. I wonder if she ever woke up to the print of Palamedes in her frame on the mattress.