#hope you enjoy

[paramasqueradeva]

Golden Child - Twin Runes Mini Story [Deltarune/Undertale Comic Dub]

Comic By: @akanemnon

[shrimptacodaniels]

three hearts beat in a circadian rhythm

They couldn’t be more different. 

Summer, autumn, spring.

Morning, noon, night. 

Three entities that were tied together by name and blood, but what else?

Simple: desire. 

Alexa Renee Faulkner

Born 05:45:55 AM 

08/17/1986

As the sun rises, a star is born. 

It’s as if Alexa and the sun came into the world at the very same time that day. 

Her nursery was painted butter yellow, adorned with a mobile of stars. As if they had always orbited around her. 

When Carmen was born, Alexa was the sun. To her. Something bright and warm and protective. “I’ve got her, Mama,” she’d insist, tugging the baby closer to her little chest. “She’s my sister.” 

The sun’s light, according to her science teacher, can burn for five billion years. 

Right now, Alexa’s barely doing ten. 

Carmen’s never learned how to grow up, not yet. She’s little, just started Kindergarten. And Katrina’s littler. And every time another star enters her galaxy, her attention divides. Her parent’s attention divides. “How are you?” has been replaced by “Can you get me a diaper, love?” or “Alexa, Ms. Christine has to take you to school for a little bit.” or “Can you stay a little after school tomorrow, maybe? Get some help? I don’t know this kind of math and Carmen has a recital tonight.” or “Sorry, Alexa, what was that?” 

She stops answering. Grits her teeth until it hurts, feeling the strain of stubbornness and liking it. The sun still burns when there’s no one to see it. 

That won’t be a problem.

Everyone will know her name. 

So she puts her nose to the grindstone and she works. Signs herself up for track and soccer and rugby and plays viciously. 

It’s baseball that sticks. She gets to be the best pitcher and the best batter all in one, walks herself to and from the field. Sits in dugout hours after the games end, listening to the chirping of the crickets. Of nature’s most attentive audience. They cheer when everyone else doesn’t, when they tell her she’s too slow or too inexperienced or too ambitious. 

She wakes up with the sun, her sun, and works. 

And works. And works. 

“You’ve got something about you, kid,” her coach says one evening after practice. “I don’t know what it is, but I know you’re wasted here.” 

Maybe she is. She buys a train ticket. 

The sun is arriving when she’s leaving. Their journey feels cyclical now. Cat and mouse. Like she has to leave to be alive, but no one wants her to go. 

“Are you sure about this?” Her mother asks again. She forces a smile. 

“If I weren’t sure, I wouldn’t go,” she promises. And it’s truer than true. This is scary and Mount-city? town? Mountport, right, is far. She, like the sun, is used to being needed. 

She, like the sun, isn’t used to being alone for long. 

Well, I’m not the sun anymore. I’m something else. 

“Bye, Lex.” Katrina says shyly. She’s seven and all softness. Like she doesn’t know how to live yet. 

Alexa hopes this teaches her. Sticks with her somehow. 

“Bye, Kitty Kat. Do good things, ‘kay?” 

Katrina reaches to hug her around the middle. “Okay.” 

Alexa smiles for real this time. It’s bittersweet. She’ll never really know the kid. But she has to know herself more than anything. Has to know she can make it. 

She turns to Carmen, gangly, teenaged Carmen, so awkward and eerily quiet. Finally trying to figure herself out. No time like the present. 

She tugs Carmen into the hug, so that Katrina is stuck squirming in the middle. “Stop!” Katrina shrieks, giggling. “Lemme out!” 

“We need to teach you some manners, kid.” Alexa steps back a bit, not quite letting go of Carmen. It’s a strange way to hold her, but she closes the gap once Katrina’s shimmied her way out of the tangle. 

“Get the hell out of this town someday, okay?” Alexa whispers, resting her cheek on Carmen’s hair. “You’re better than what they have to offer here.” 

“Um. Yeah.” Carmen mutters back. “I will.” 

Alexa squeezes her tighter. “Good. I’ve got a train to catch.” 

And with that, it’s over. 

The train ride is an overnight voyage. As Alexa stares at the blur of black outside her window, she can’t help but smile. The moon is out now, but the sun will rise again. 

And so will she. The star of her own story. 

Where she’s valued. 

Where she’s safe. 

Where she’s free. 

—

Carmen Terese Faulkner 

Born 02:06:22 PM 

11/26/1991

The raw glimmer of an afternoon engulfed her as she entered into the world. And the wistful glow followed her all her life. 

She was quiet yet remarkable. Remarkable in the way she sang in Choir, light as a bird and harsh as a rainstorm. Quiet in the way she saw things. Observant. Born with the heart of a tortured artist, she painted the world in shades of red. Bright and sharp. Deep maroon and blinding crimson. 

Her art teacher sits her down one day and guides her gently through a diagram of hues, stopping on a deep reddish-purple. “That’s carmine,” Ms. Seghers emphasizes. “Almost your name, huh?” 

“Yeah,” she replies. 

Years down the line, her art consumes her. She has a family, a better one this time, one so instrumental in who she is now. They understand her and her words, catch her quiet and turn up the volume. 

The four of them are on the roof of an abandoned building, soaking in the warmth of the afternoon. This is what stage lights will feel like, she promises herself. 

Their music is going to change the world. High school is drawing to a close, but this is just the beginning. 

“Moshe, your stage name can’t be Metaldick. That’s the worst thing I’ve ever heard.” Neal squints at him, offended as Moshe roars with laughter from his perch by the chimney. It’s no surprise when Neal squirms his way up and begins another round of bickering with their bandmate. 

“You gonna pick one?” Blair asks her quietly, bumping their shoulders together. 

“Of them?” 

“Oh God no, ew.” 

They laugh, looking over at the squabble. Moshe looks like he’s got the upper hand. They all know that won’t be the case for long.

“You meant a stage name, huh?” Carmen asks, turning her attention back to Blair. 

“Yeah.” 

She thinks for a moment. “You know, when I was a kid, I had this really great art teacher. Let me paint just in red. Just because I wanted to. She showed me all the different shades one day. One of them sounds like my name.” 

“Carmine.“ he cuts in. Warmth blooms in her chest, because of course he knows that. 

“Yeah. So maybe that. But a bit edgier somehow.” 

They bounce different combinations off of each other as Moshe and Neal continue grappling. Neal’s the first to fall, but shoots back up with renewed vigor. 

“What about Carmington?” Blair asks. And it clicks. 

“I actually really like that,” Carmen says thoughtfully.

“Well duh. I came up with it.” 

“Shut up,” she snickers, “let’s do yours now.” 

“I wanna do something funky with my last name. Smith is so boring. But Blair is good.” 

“You should do something gritty-“

“Witchy-“

“LIKE THE BLAIR WITCH PROJECT. You could be Blair Witchproject.” 

Neal stills from thrusting Moshe off the side of the roof. “Like the horror movie?” 

“Yeah,” Blair affirms. “Yeah, that’s cool.” 

“What about Tickle Me Emo?” Moshe wheezes. 

“Dude,” Blair sighs to her as Neal goes murderous again. “In what world is that a good idea?” 

“In what world is that a stage name?” 

“Exactly. This is why they need us.” 

Carmen smiles at him. “Hard agree.”

They sit like that, a part of a messy, perfect painting. Carmen closes her eyes, captures the moment. 

They’re gonna paint the town red. She knows it. 

And then Moshe kicks her square in the back. 

“Oh dude,” she growls, rounding on him. “Wrong choice.”

She goes home for dinner a few hours later. Home to scolding and screeching. Mom, no - Bernice, is horrified at her black eye and bloodied knuckles. 

“What sort of example do you think you’re setting for your sister?” she admonishes, drying a plate with an aggression Carmen didn’t know one could use on a plate. 

“Mom, she’s thirteen. Ask her,” she retorts, kissing Bernice on the cheek. 

Bernice, never one to back down from a challenge, does just that. “Trina, do you think Carmen sets a good example?”

Katrina looks up innocently from her math homework. “Define good.”

“See, Carmen?” Bernice sweeps her arms up as though she’s about to bow to a sold-out stadium. 

 “That wasn’t an answer! She just hates rocking the boat.” 

“Don’t put words in my mouth!”

“Then try putting some there yourself,” Carmen snaps back. Katrina goes deathly still before busying herself with her equations again. She’s so sick of quiet. It’s all Carmen was growing up. It sucks to live a quiet life. 

“The day you two stop fighting-“ Bernice trails off, having lost steam. She channels her energy into wiping down the butter knives instead. “Teenagers.” 

“Do you need anything, Mom?” Carmen tries. 

“I need you to shower. Wash the blood off your hands and put your shirt in the laundry room.” There’s an edge to her voice, as if it takes everything in her to care for someone. 

“Yes ma’am.” It’s a little bit sarcastic, but Bernice is too in her head to pick up on tone right now. 

“Thank you.” 

Carmen stops at the kitchen table on her way to the stairs, looking her younger sister squarely in the eye. 

“You gonna tell Mom you don’t like when she calls you Trina?”

Katrina scowls at her paper, abruptly breaking eye contact. “She doesn’t mean to,” she whispers back. 

“Katrina. It’s your name. Not a big deal.”

“Exactly. Not a big deal.” She hunches down lower over her work, scanning the graphs with an almost hungry glint in her eye. 

“You know that’s not what I meant.” But she knows she won’t get another word out of Katrina. 

She keeps walking. 

“Hydrogen Peroxide!” Bernice hollers at her retreating back. 

“I know, Mom!”

She’s just locked the bathroom door when she deflates. Lets herself breathe. Two more months, then she’s gone. She loves her family, in a strange sort of way, but they don’t understand her. They look right past her, while Blair knows what she’s thinking at every moment and Neal can tell when a line’s been crossed better than anyone and Moshe doesn’t treat her like she’ll shatter. 

Two more months. 

Later that night, she falls asleep to the thought of how beautiful the afternoon will be two months from now. 

When she’s safe. 

When she’s free. 

— 

Katrina Eileen Faulkner

Born 11:11:34 PM

03/04/1996

Katrina was scared of lots of things, but the dark didn’t make the list. 

She slept with a nightlight anyway. Because, well, Alexa and Carmen slept with the very same one. Mom couldn’t just part with it. It would be wrong to ask. 

But Katrina liked the dark. Liked to fall asleep to the buzz of ideas and nothing else. Liked to curl up in corners, to fill the empty spaces in as quiet a way as possible. 

She liked being a dutiful daughter. A dedicated student. A pleasure to have in class. A chaste young woman. Her sisters had taught her how to reinvent herself. But to change meant to leave something behind. 

And Katrina was loyal as a dog. 

Loyal to her parents, first and foremost. A shell of herself nestled deep in their shore. In their sureness. As long as the tide didn’t sweep her away, she’d be fine. 

(Right?)

She kept her head down and her grades up. Took out the trash, sometimes without being asked. Piped up with “yes ma’am” and “no sir” like she was supposed to. 

But as she grew, her heart did, too. And she was loyal to more things. To her friends in high school, even when they picked apart her dreams and yawned at all her theories. To her research partners, even when they “forgot their notecards” over and over and over again on presentation day. 

Her father said she was “charming.” Had a natural aptitude for talking your ear off. 

(It’s a shame she felt so unsafe doing it.)

She was loyal to her degree program. Loyal to the choices they had made together, as a family. Double major, Finance and Statistics. 

“You’re so math-minded,” her mother had said. “You could really help people.” 

Her faculty mentor had recommended a master’s in Actuarial Science in their final meeting. “Risk management,” he’d explained. “Fascinating stuff.” 

(She didn’t know shit about risks. She never took them.)

Her Master’s Degree now sits proudly in her office as she finishes her final consultation of the day. 

“I’d be delighted to assess those policies for you, Mr. Bateman.” She reaches out to shake his hand. He takes it. 

“Thank you, Ms. Faulkner,” the old man says earnestly. “I’ll be in touch.” 

She releases his hand to file through her desk drawer. 

“Here’s my card. You have a good night, sir.” 

“You as well.” Mr. Bateman waves in parting and shuffles his way out of her office. 

Leaving her alone. 

She whips out her phone. 

Okay, we said Saturday this year? 

She waits a few minutes before Barry replies.

Yup. Tix are bought 👍

Sick. See you then!

Katrina can’t help but grin at the screen before shutting the phone off and putting it away. The Ren Faire brings a chance to try something new. To change it up a little bit. She’s used to mundane - but Ren Faire Katrina doesn’t even know what that means. 

Fleetingly, she remembers the moments of her childhood she’s hidden. The breaks in the boring. In the loyal. The times she would just sing when no one was home. The way she laughed, loud and hard, around the bonfire at Science Camp. Her love for debate team - that was never just a resume builder. Feeling so much alone in her room as a teenager. Dylan Peters, the girl she kissed in the library. Once. She tasted like coconut (and sin. Really, Katrina, girls don’t kiss other girls). Leaving fairy figurines in the window when she was eight, wishing Peter Pan would see them and take her away. 

(Would she be the girl or the shadow?) 

Enough of that. Her conscience startles her awake. 

(It sounds like her mother.) 

Saturday comes and goes. 

(And her life changes irrevocably. How could she possibly reduce such a pivotal moment to four words?) 

“Can you teach me?” she asks one night on her balcony, weeks later, because she feels braver in the dark. 

She knows his gaze is piercing, even though she can’t see it. “Teach you?” 

“How to stop hiding. I pretend I know, but-” 

“Hey.” He throws an arm around her. “I’m pretty bad at it too.” 

She rests her head on his shoulder. 

“Wanna learn together?” 

And like the tide, Joshua Hahn sweeps her out of her rut in the sand. 

They spend all night talking, about anything and everything. Favorite colors, best memories, worst places they’ve ever eaten. Letting the words wash over them. Josh tells her about his family, his heartbreak, his loneliness. She reveals her fears, her regrets, her mistakes. They talk about their fatal flaws that mask as their best traits. He says his kindness. She says her loyalty. 

“Change isn’t the absence of loyalty, you know,” he muses. “Kind of like the best kind of loyalty. You’re showing devotion to your future self. Or something.” 

“Hey, don’t cheapen that with ‘or something,’” Katrina says, nudging him gently. “That was very philosophical.” 

“Well, shucks.”

“And kindness can be extended both ways.” She’s returning the favor. “You have to be kind to yourself, too.” 

“Huh. Wow. Are we the smartest people alive?”

“I’d say so,” she teases. “We should start a podcast.” 

“We’d have too many fans. We’d totally break the industry.” 

She laughs at that. “I fear you’re right.” 

“Bummer, huh?” 

The sun has just begun to rise. 

“No idea when the last time I pulled an all-nighter was,” he says, reaching to look at his phone. It’s 5am.  

“Good for us,” she yawns. “I think we needed it.” 

She needed it. More than she let on. 

“Yeah.” He’s grinning. “And now look at us. Sun’s out.” 

“Sun’s out. And I know so much about you.” 

“Tip of the iceberg, my friend.” He considers that for a moment. “Actually, more like half of the iceberg. Feels more accurate.” 

“I’m big on accuracy.” 

“Just like those falcon dudes.” He does a weird little dance, wiggling his arms. “Pleasure and pain!” 

“They’re such freaks,” she laughs. 

“Katrina, they’re period-accurate.” 

“Hardly.” 

“How do you know? Were you there back then?” 

“Damn. Caught me.” 

“Caught you.” He pulls her to his side. “It’s easier to do when I can see you.” 

“Yeah. You’re so right.” 

Katrina likes the dark. But she’s starting to like the light, too. 

Somehow, it feels safe. 

Somehow, she feels free. 

[buggachat]

something so fucked up about Chat Noir’s whole deal is that he is in a lot of ways Adrien playing a character. Like Adrien picked up his miraculous and was told he’d be a superhero so he was like “ok, time to act like a superhero!” and he lets himself have fun w it and play up the role and let loose and kind of just allow himself to be silly and goofy and have fun and for once in his life not care about performing Perfection™.

But. But none of the other characters KNOW THAT. So everyone just sees Chat Noir and is like “look at this guy’s ego. He’s so full of himself. Surely it’d be fair to knock him down a few pegs” without being aware of how few pegs he actually HAS. He’s like the “insecure character who overcompensates in ego” trope except he’s really not doing it unironically, he’s just having a fun LARP pretending to have self worth in his off-hours but nobody else is on the same page about it being a game and he refuses to tell them. He just dramatically pouts about it and lets them laugh and pretends like he’s not internalizing it and it is almost 3 am and my brain forced me to write this instead of sleeping I’m gonna take a melatonin

[iceycloversart]

bonus:

[andejoe]

No one wanted to ask. Someone had to. It was terrifying. But it made sense.

Of course humanity finally abandoned its planet. Everyone was surprised they hadn’t abandoned it sooner. Still, the concern was there.

What made humanity abandon their planet in a mass event? What thing was finally found to scare them off their favorite death world?

Of course not every last human abandoned the planet, but enough did that Earth was no longer considered ‘inhabited’. Humans flocked to other worlds, most choosing death worlds with similar biomes to the ones they preferred. (And there was a suspiciously armored ship heading towards Disney planet.)

The concerning thing was the humans kept going back. Never landing. Never breaking the atmosphere. Just driving by.

Finally, a delegate was chosen to ask the human council member. Poor Laeri was nervous, but they had been called friend by council member Daryl before. Surely this question wouldn’t be an offense.

“Daryl, may I speak with you a moment?”

Daryl paused, and nodded, careful not to smile. He was well practiced in the art of not offending. “Of course Laeri. What is the matter?”

“Humanity has recently applied for habitation permits for a dozen planets. As soon as the permits were awarded, humans left very quickly.”

“Well sure. The permits took three earth years to be approved. Most of the planet had been preparing for over five years at that point,” Daryl explained.

“Yes, that is not my question. The question is why?”

“Why were they ready?”

Laeri shook their head. “Why did they leave Earth? Humans have made it a point to ‘stick it out’ despite better options being available. Why leave now?”

“Oh, that. Well.” Daryl paused. He knew he didn’t have to report officially yet, but his friend wanted to know. “Will you keep it a secret from the council?”

Laeri paused. The answer being a secret did not occur to them. What could the humans possibly be hiding? Would they be able to hide it as well?

“I do not think I can keep any dangerous thing a secret,” Laeri finally admitted.

Daryl nodded. “Nor would I ask you to. It’s not dangerous, just a little experiment more like.”

“If it is an experiment, then you should speak with-“

“No Laeri.” Daryl interrupted calmly. “This isn’t something we want help with. That’s why we haven’t mentioned anything to the Viyon Academics. We just need time to see if it works.”

Their curiosity finally got the better of them.

“If what works?”

“A new society. A new civilized species.”

Laeri didn’t speak, but either from awe or concern, they weren’t sure. Daryl continued.

“We believe a species evolves when they start to take care of their injured and impaired. It means they have compassion. Well an intelligent species on earth has been observed showing compassion. We simply want to give them the space they require to evolve.”

Laeri considered the intelligent species that lived on earth. They were suddenly very concerned. Had the humans been duped?

“The dolphi are showing compassion?” Laeri asked.

Daryl almost laughed. “Not even close. No, we wouldn’t break the agreement we made. They’re not escaping earth anytime soon.”

Laeri felt immediate relief. “Then which species is it?”

Daryl smiled. He couldn’t help it. He liked birds. “Corvids.”

“But, but they’re so small.”

“We know. That’s why some humans are still there, zoologist types to help them grow, learn, and show them the way.”

“What if another species wipes them out before they get the chance?”

Daryl shrugged. “Well that’s why we left some warriors behind, to help keep the corvids alive while they grow. And of course to keep the dolphins contained. We do take that assignment very seriously.”

Laeri was excited now. Another avian species may be joining the galaxy soon. They wanted to tell everyone.

“Promise you’ll keep the secret?” Daryl asked.

Laeri felt their excitement dash upon the cruel rocks of reality. “I will.”

“Good. Here.” Daryl held out a small computer drive.

Laeri took the drive. “What is this?”

“The live feed of the experiment. You really think we wouldn’t watch? As soon as they reach civilized status, I have to report them. Until then, they’ve been completing some very complex puzzles and problem solving lately. You’ll want to start at the beginning but they post new information all the time.”

Laeri clutched the drive to their feathered tunic. Suddenly the small drive was priceless. “I, must go now.”

Laeri took off as fast as would be ignored by others. Daryl watched his friend, surprised by how excited they were. His watch gave him an alert.

“Ooh, a group puzzle. Wonder if they managed it this time.”

Daryl walked off to his own private quarters to watch the newest update on the corvids.

[halosmelie]

hijack AGAIN ?!? pls I love them sm I can’t stop drawing them…

[flashphotograph]

Eddie "Shit." Stranger Things 4

[verytiredfrog]

"Make your statement, face your fear."

[lio-rdr]

PART 2 OF THE VDL GANG AS TUMBLR/TWITTER POSTS

part 1 is on my profile under the rdr2 memes hashtag :-)

(thank you so much for the love on the first one, it means a lot <3)

[seochangbingifs]

Changbin in his tiny green shorts for @rhyperographer

[help-itrappedmyself]

Dead on Main AU

Masterpost

Guys, I'm so sorry. But here's this!

~~~~

Danny blinks and he is somewhere else. He’s sitting at a dining room table, surrounded. There are so many people here. They’re all talking over each other, some yelling, some laughing. This scene comes as a great surprise to him, who -one blink ago- was trying and failing to do his homework at home in his room. Danny shoots up, his chair making a horrible noise as he pushes it away so fast it tumbles over. Everyone in the room turns to look over at him like he’s insane. 

“Oh my god, who are you people?” Danny did not mean to say this out loud, but at the sound of his voice he startles. Danny takes a moment to assess, and then, “Oh my god who am I?”  He is tall, and big, and this is certainly not his body, what is he wearing.

The boy sitting to the right of Danny, a little shorter than he is, with black hair and blue eyes (though now that he’s paying attention that does describe most people in the room),  starts chuckling lightly. “Uh, Jason? Are you good?” 

Danny turns to stare him right in the eyes. “What day is it?”

And he can tell the concern around the table is just ratcheting up every time he opens his stupid mouth.

“Did you hit your head on patrol?” The voice comes from the only blond and one of the only girls in the room, who's to the left of the person across from him. The person across from him is another boy with black hair and blue eyes who is studying Danny in a way that makes him uncomfortable, that under-a-microscope look that makes you feel like you’re failing at something.

“I have no idea if Jason hit his head.” Danny says. “I was just trying to remember if it was my birthday.”

And if he thought the room was busy when he first arrived here it is absolute pandemonium now. Everyone starts shouting and asking questions that he can’t even hear over the shouting. Someone with white hair in a suit just came through a door he didn’t even see earlier to stand by the only person not shouting, who -Danny would guess- is the only other adult in this room, witting at the head of the table. He also has black hair and blue eyes, and where almost everyone else’s reaction was panic, he froze instead. The person across from Danny also isn’t shouting, but the person next to Danny on his right has now fully stood up and looks like he might actually jump across the table to win the argument he ended up in. 

“Are you Jason’s soulmate?” is the main gist of the shouting that Danny can interpret but he’s more concerned with actual Jason at the moment. If they switched bodies... Then Jason might be in trouble…

“Hey, I forget, how long is this body swap supposed to last again?” Danny asks.

“Until you and Jason have physical contact. You have to actually meet.” The boy sitting across from him explains. He seems like one of the only ones that heard Danny talk, everyone else was still shouting. 

“Oh, that just seems terrible. What if we’re in different countries or something?” Danny complained. “Everyone in the world is just supposed to be able to drop everything and afford to fly across the world. The universe is really trying to screw people over now. Honestly, am I in a different country? Where even are we right now?”

“You’re in Gotham.” This voice was new, coming from the head of the table to Danny’s right. 

“Oh no. Nope.” Danny started backing away from the table, almost tripping on his overturned chair. “Absolutely not, no, how do I get out of here?” He starts earnestly looking for a door to get out of this place, but there are three doors he can see and he has no idea where any of them go, and doesn’t this room have any windows? What kind of a room doesn’t have any windows? Do they like to eat in a basement?

“Jason- not Jason. Uh, you need to calm down, everything will be fine alright, We’ll get you and Jason introduced no problem.” Danny swivels to track the voice and it’s the one who was sitting next to him, he’s walking towards him with his hands up and out in front of him. 

“I have to get home.” Danny breathes. 

“We can get you there, promise. Now, I’m Dick, can you tell me your name?”

“Your name is Dick? Who named you Dick?” Danny is so confused he’s stopped panicking. “How old are you for you to go by the name Dick?”

“Okay, rude.” Dick sounds like a petulant child so Danny’s estimations for his age are continuously dropping. “I’m 24.”

Danny snorts. “Okay.” The blond girl starts laughing over at the table. “I’m uh, I’m Danny.”

“Nice to meet you. Sort of. I’m Tim.” The guy from across from him had made it over to stand next to Dick. “There’s a lot of us here today so the one laughing like a hyena is Steph. That one there is Duke.” African-American, still with black hair but he has brown eyes and waves once introduced. “Damian is the short one next to him, and Cass was sitting across from Dick earlier. Our dad, Jason’s dad-” 

“Not my dad!” Steph interrupted. Tim waves her off.

“Everyone but Steph's dad, is over there, Bruce. Alfred, our butler is the one next to him.” Alfred gives a slight nod to his head. Bruce is just staring at him.

“So, names out of the way. You said you wanted to go home, where do you live?”

“Amity Park.”

[bedtimescenarios]

Recaptured living weapon Whumpee who is about to face the consequences of their escape. And when Whumper brings them back into that painfully familiar room, when they calmly take out the whip, Whumpee knows precisely what to do.

Their feet take them to the middle of the room, and they kneel, methodically disposing of their shirt. As their shoulders roll back into a straightened position, they can practically feel Whumper's gaze burning into the back of their head. A sadistic, eyes-only smile, knowing that even though Whumpee was physically free for some time, they never truly escaped.

[dailypokemoncrochet]

#1009 Walking Wake

[twizzie-lairs]

My Darling, My Honey

Alastor X Fem!Reader (Part 11)

Have a nice big chapter/part for the weekend! :D

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 |

Part 9 | Part 10 | Part 11

Part 11:

Did.. did Charlie just say... Alastor?

You felt someone poke your face, multiple times, all at once, "Hey, Hey, miss bandage face, you good?"

You blink rapidly, being pulled out of your stupor and laugh awkwardly, "Ah haha, uh yeah. Yup, I'm good... Haha, thanks Angel.."

Angel just squints at you, not convinced of your act at all but just sighs and says, "Alright, whatever you say, weirdo.." and then returns back to chatting with Husk.

Vaggie, who was sitting next to you struck up a conversation, "Are you really sure you're okay to be up and around already? You look like you saw a ghost or something."

You briefly glanced at the radio that was sitting on the mantle on the wall before returning your attention to Vaggie, "Yeah, being up was much better than sitting doing nothing, I thought I was going to waste away if I didn't do something."

Vaggie sighs and nods her head, "I know the feeling."

"And.. I swear I thought I heard Charlie mention the name Al-"

"Alastor! You're back! We have a new guest staying at the hotel! Come say hi!" Charlie shot out of her seat as soon as she saw Alastor's shadows start to manifest, signaling his return.

You felt your blood run cold as your suspicions were confirmed. Yes, she just said Alastor. How common could that name be down here? This is just a coincidence, surely- Of all names!

"My, my dear Charlie, you seem quite excited! I haven't seen you bouncing off the walls like this in ages!" Alastor chuckles as he allows Charlie to practically drag him over by the wrist to the group.

He sounds like a radio host...

Your breath starts to quicken as Charlie guides him over to you, his aura feels so oppressive, unlike any Overlord you had ever met before... But what made your hair really stand on the back of your neck was the static noise that filled the air as he got closer. You felt your eyes shake and your gut sink in your stomach.

What was this feeling?

You gulp and look up, eyes wide, looking like a deer in headlights as you make eye contact with this "Alastor".

"Go on! Introduce yourself!" You felt Charlie nudge you excitedly, in an attempt to nudge you out of your frozen state.

On his face, a large, creepy grin/smile- (if you could even call it that) grew even larger on his face - a feat you didn't even know was possible. You felt like you should be scared but then... It dawned on you.

That feeling in your gut dissipated instantly and it felt like a weight got suddenly lifted off your chest.

This was Alastor. This was your Alastor.

Tears start rolling down your face uncontrollably as your body is racked with sobs.

"Heyyy! Hey! It's okay, (y/n)! I know Al can be a wee bit intimidating sometimes but I promise he's not a bad guy! Well... mostly.. haha..." Charlie trails off with a nervous chuckle as she scrambles around the lobby to find you some tissues to dry your tears.

Upon hearing your name said out loud, a loud record scratch filled the air.

"Haha... ha...Charlie, dearest! My, you'd think the years are catching up to me! Was that some sort of joke? Why, I didn't know you wanted to become a comedian! Did you say.. (y/n)? That must be a mistake. I've only ever known one person by that name and they surely couldn't have ended up in Hell of all places!" Alastor chuckles, the laugh track coming from his staff warping as he hovers over Charlie with an intimidating aura- thinking she was playing some sort of sick joke on him.

Charlie whips around to see Alastor up in her face and then she scrambles back, "Woah! What? Alastor! Gods, no, why would I joke about our new guest? That would go against everything i'm trying to do here!"

Alastor's gaze darts over to you, "You see, I think this '(y/n)' and I need to have a chat..." His eyes narrow as he makes quotation marks with his fingers as he says your name.

He walks towards you and grabs your wrist with force, finger like claws starting to dig into your arm- despite protest from Charlie and Vaggie to let you go- to stop harassing their new guest because you were still quite injured and fragile. Even Angel and Husk got up from their seats at the bar after hearing the commotion in the lounge and started yelling at him to stop hurting you because it was very apparent that you were in pain with how rough he was handling you.

Then, with a snap, he teleports you and himself up to his radio tower- away from all the commotion.

Alastor slams the door shut with a fury that you've never seen before, and locks it to make sure you won't even try to make a feeble attempt at an escape.

He was powerful. Alastor knew he didn't really need to lock the door because with his power, he could vaporize you before you even thought of making a dash for the door. He did it as an intimidation tactic because he knew the fear it instilled in his prey.

Now, walking towards you, he pointed his staff at your chest, and leaned in close to your face. Strange static and symbols fill the air as he and his antlers grow in size, towering over you.

"Now... who are you really? You get one chance to make a feeble excuse before I kill you and broadcast your screams for all of Hell to hear, for making a mockery of my dear (y/n) by taking the name of my beloved and masquerading around Hell- thinking you can show up here like this to try and mess with ME- tHe RaDiO DEMON."

You see dark shadows and tentacle-like masses appear, and you stumble backward until your back hits a wall, never breaking eye contact with him- your lip quivering in fear.

"I.. But- It... is me...hun... I missed you so much..." You whisper with a somber smile that's quickly warped into an ugly crying face. The unrelenting tears keep rolling down your face, and your left hand reaches up towards his even more demonically altered form that towers over you in a desperate attempt to get him to recognize you.

Before you can touch his face, one of his hands snatches your wrist and pulls it closer to himself to examine the sparkle that caught his eye as you started to reach out to him, roughly jostling you and lifting you up in the air by your wrist as a result.

You wince briefly at the pain in your wrist and shoulder joints as he examines your hand when you remember you were wearing your ring. You never took it off all these years.

You could hear his breath hitch just ever so slightly over the static as he gently put you down and let your feet touch the floor again.

Alastor realized that the ring on your left ring finger was the exact one he had gotten for you- the one he put on your ring finger right before he buried you right the night you were brutally assaulted and murdered back when he was alive.

He slowly morphed back into his "normal" form. (Normal for Hell, that is, this was an entirely new look for him from what you remembered when he was alive).

The shock dawning on him that it really was you was apparent as he took a few steps back, still holding your hand. He looked at you in disbelief, the look of pure shock was just like how you had looked at him initially in the lobby.

Then suddenly, he pulled you into a warm embrace, "My dearest... I am so sorry for hurting you. My darling... whatever are you doing here? Someone like you doesn't belong here!"

Now, holding your face in both of his hands, he wiped your tears with the most gentle expression on his face, a stark contrast from the nightmarish demonic one just a moment ago. and you could almost swear you could see the slightest traces of a misty look in his eyes as he held you.

His claw-like fingers slightly dug into your face, but not enough to hurt, as he examined your new appearance, his gaze turning from soft into a hardened expression once again. Almost snarling, he began to ask you again, "Tell me, darling, tell me the name of the gods forsaken angel bastard that cast you down from Heaven. I will find a way to make them pay. I'll make them ALL pay for this... NO ONE will ever harm you again..." The strange symbols and glitchy auras were threatening to come out again.

You sniffled, still trying to calm down your tears, which immediately made him halt in his tracks and turn his attention back to you at this moment.

You looked at the ground, and you knew you couldn't avoid this conversation forever, "Hun... I... Before we met... there was something I never told you-" Before you could finish, you felt your legs start to wobble underneath you- the adrenaline was starting to fade and you were starting to feel some of the pain from your previous injuries come back to you.

"Please, my love, take a seat first." He guided you to a set of a table and two chairs. Ever the gentleman, he pulled your chair out for you and helped made sure you were alright before he sat down across the table from you.

You put your hands on the table, a signal he immediately picked up on as a sign to envelop your hands in his. You looked at him in the eyes with a look of shame that scrunched up your face as you prepared to tell him the truth, "Alastor, hun... I never went to Heaven..."

You swore you heard another record scratch before a quiet hum of static filled the air again. Alastor chuckled, "Oh my dear, never lost your sense of humor, I see!"

A look of even deeper shame washes over your face as you break eye contact with him and stare at his hands that held your's on the table, "It's true. Alastor..." You sigh deeply, feeling an aching pain in your chest, not only from your injuries but also from the mental anguish you were dealing with as you shakily begin to explain everything about your past. Your shitty family and messed-up inlaws. Your narcissistic, unloving, and abusive ex-husband that you killed.

You painstakingly revealed every single minute detail. You told him everything.

-> Part 12

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[moonriseoverkyoto]

Wearing your brother’s dog tags brings a lot of questions, which meant problems. Especially from men, especially at a bar where said men try to pick you up. Or strike a conversation about the mysterious dog tags. Lucky for you a certain Scot lovingly doesn’t think to ask too many questions. Not until Johnny “Soap” Mactavish’s tongue is down your throat in the back of his car on holiday do the gears begin to turn. But only, yes only after, a few odd weekends of small dates and letters when he can write, he finally decides to ask who your tags belong to between deep kisses and pants. You frown as you pull away to respond, the mood dampened.

“Oh I really shouldn’t say..” you sigh not wanting to explain the long story typically because it ruins the mood “my brother gave me these so I wouldn’t worry about him when he leaves on missions. His call sign is Ghost and…” Shit. Johnny’s whole body seizes up as his heart makes a pitfall down his body. His hearing stops as his brain repeats your joined last name over and over and over; Riley, Riley Riley Riley. Fuck why didn’t he connect the dots. Ghost always was secretive and protective about his younger sister, everyone knew he always declined to bring you as his plus one or even show photos to the rest of the 141. Damnit he knows somewhere down the line if Gaz or even worse Price hears about this that he’ll never live it down. If Ghost hears about this - shit he’ll never live. He finally zones back in to hear you say

“…but that doesn’t matter because you guys don’t run in the same circles, right?” Soap’s nervous smile gives you all the time for your heart to join his in dropping down below. But as your phone rings both of you are sure your hearts have dropped down to hell as the caller id reads: Simon Riley.

Drabble Drabble, I’m tired and I wanted to put this on paper before it slipped my mind. I’ll expand upon this later but this is mostly an idea for @glossysoap to enjoy because Glossy loves Soap as much as I do. So I hope you enjoy btw not proofread so toodles xoxo - Moon

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