#if he dies again i’m ending it all. you didn’t come back from the dead just to die on me again

[elstabler]

when mulder comes back from his abduction and sees scully pregnant, his first instinctive reaction is to feel betrayed and hurt because goddamnit they were finally ready, finally so open to explore all that they could be. they were so close to having it all…

but then he understood: he had died! he had died and she hadn’t and she had moved on, she had to. she was right to do so, of course. he always knew he held her back and maybe she had finally learned that too. and now he was back and already sucking her back in, making her spend all the hours at the hospital by his side, not eating not sleeping. and all because she pitied him, pitied the story the scars on his body told and nothing more. he saw it in her eyes.

so he pulled back, he pushed her away the best he could (which was never much but oh gosh he tried). he was cold to her and as confused and conflicted as he felt he thought it was for the best, it was for her.

and scully tried to understand him. after all he had died! he had died and she hadn’t and she knew better than anyone what trauma like that can do to your mind, right?

she thought he didn’t want to hurt her feelings by asking for space to process it all and so she tried to not suffocate him. she gave him time and space. she checked in with him but didn’t press when he didn’t answer. she shielded him from most things from the office. she brushed off his apathy like it didn’t hurt like a motherfucker if she was being honest. she thought it was for the best, it was for him.

but theres just so much a girl can take and a disaster was just around the corner waiting to happen. the breakdown was inevitable.

it happens in one of the many nights she went to his place to check on him and got hit with his usual ‘i’m fine’ crap. she finally snapped.

“mulder stop! just stop! you have no right to do this to me and you know why? because you know exactly how i felt when you were gone, don’t you? when every second feels like an hour and every hour feels like a year. when another day passes and all you can feel when you lay your head in your pillow at night is fear and anguish and failure”

her storm takes him by surprise and he just stands there, sunken stomach and aghast. of course he knew what it felt like. he knew he could never forget the pain of the days she wasn’t with him.

“but you know what you didn’t have to see? my dead body dumped in a field. I had to see that. Did you even consider this for a second?” the rage and hurt in her eyes pierces him, her voice growing louder as she went on “I had to cry over you and beg for it to be a lie. I had to make all the arrangements for your funeral because I needed the closure of a final goodbye. I held your hand for hours till I tricked my mind it was warm again and Skinner had to physically drag me away from you. I dumped the dirt over your casket. I got anxious to go to sleep in hopes i could see you in my dreams only to have recurring nightmares about your body turning into a hard corpse crushing me. I had to go to work every damn day just to keep my mind occupied when i didn’t even know if someone really had my back because i was only ever certain with you. I had to think like you and see things only you ever saw just to make your absence a little less painful"

at this point she was shouting, angrily wiping the tears from her eyes. he made no effort to do the same to his own, eyes fixed on hers. the truth hit him like daggers. she was right, he hadn’t thought about any of that because it was unbearable and he knew if the roles were reversed he wouldn’t have taken half of what she did - he would have ended up committed somewhere or lying next to her seven feet underground.

“I had to curse God over and over asking how could he be so cruel and I had to beg for forgiveness when He showed me all of his mercy and He gave you back to me. I have to swallow the urge to spend every second by your side because i’m scared that when i close the door you will disappear again. Goddamnit Mulder! You have no right to shut me out now! Not after everything!”

His legs finally decided to work again and he crossed the room in a stride, picking her up in the first real, raw, embrace since he returned. she buried her face completely into his chest, craving her nails on his back, bringing him impossibly close. he wallowed his sorrows and begged for forgiveness in her ear. he held her face gently with both his hands, lifting her chin up to urgently kiss her forehead, her eye lids, her cheeks, her tears, the tip of her nose. her lips. and he promised he would never leave again.

they both knew it was a promise he wasn’t sure he could keep, but, for now, it was enough. in that moment, the true mulder, her mulder, was back to her.

[overthinkit-underscore]

She Won't Be A Problem [Don't take the blade.]

something noteworthy is that Cold genuinely believes the Princess is dead. they've slain her. he doubts that she's come back. in fact, looking at some of his dialogue along the Path and in the Cabin's entrance…

Voice of the Cold - She won't be a problem. Voice of the Cold - Who cares if there's a mirror? Let's just go into the basement and find her body so we can be done with this.

…Cold doesn't really have a reason to think of taking the blade. he doesn't comment on it. and, really, if we're "just going down to find her body," we have no real reason to grab a weapon. unless we're planning on stabbing ourselves later, but it's not like we weren't able to open the door last time and see the void He shoved us into. so, Cold is neutral on the blade. we could take it, or not. for the purposes of this demonstration and arc, i'm not going to. She Won't Be A Problem.

Voice of the Cold - It’s just like I told you— The Spectre - Why are you even here? Just making sure you finished the job or what?

we are "just making sure we finished the job." how observant of you, Spectre.

- (Explore) See, this is exactly what I was trying to tell you about in the woods. This already happened. We killed her. The Narrator - Yes, obviously things are… strange, right now. I think it’s safe to say you’ve seen something, something you shouldn’t have seen. Whatever worlds you’ve hopped between, whatever versions of me you’ve met, none of that matters now. There’s no changing what’s already happened. But you have a job to finish.

Voice of the Hero - Finish how?! We already did what you told us. And now she’s a ghost! The Narrator - There’s a perfectly pristine blade waiting for you upstairs. You could always use it to… Oh, I don’t know, slay her? Voice of the Cold - And then what? The Narrator - And then you’ll have saved the world.

Cold doesn't care about the Mirror or proving that it exists to the Narrator. he does care about commenting on the fact that he's right, the Princess is dead. "it's just like i told you-". this isn't just to be petty, it was his only real motivation in returning to the Cabin in the first place. to show the Narrator that we've finished up His busy work, so can He please go away now?

Voice of the Hero - I think he’s asking about what happens after we save the world. If that’s even still an option. The Narrator - What do you mean, ‘after’? Voice of the Cold - You already know what we mean, don’t you? So why don’t you go ahead and tell us? Are you going to try and lock us away in a timeless void again? Because I didn’t much care for that. The Narrator - I’m not going to lock you anywhere. - (Explore) "After I killed you, this cabin… I want to say it teleported? It wasn't in the woods anymore, time stopped meaning anything and I had to kill myself to escape. The Spectre - You poor thing. That must have been so frightening for you. Voice of the Hero - You know, after everything we've been through, it's nice to see someone finally sympathizing with us. This whole thing's been an ordeal, hasn't it? Voice of the Cold - She doesn’t mean it. The Spectre - It sounds like you got exactly what you were owed.

Decider commenting on what happened after the Princess died to her 'cause, hey, we're on the train of thought anyway. it's only polite to share your thoughts with those who can't hear them.

- (Explore) "I guess I should tell you why I was sent to kill you. You were going to end the world." The Spectre - And, what? You just believed that? You killed me without giving it any thought? That's cold. Voice of the Hero - That's rich coming from her. Every time she touches us, it's like we freeze over. Voice of the Cold - She's right, though. But that's neither here nor there. What's done is done. What we do from this point forward is all that matters. Let's try not to let emotion get the better of us.

now, Cold is a very decision-focused guy. he doesn't dwell very much, if at all, on the past. (wonder where he got that from…)

"You did kill someone. Greater good or not, something would be very wrong with you if you didn’t feel at least a little bad. But it was for the greater good. One of these days, that will sink in and help ease your guilty conscience." something is wrong with Cold, Narrator. thank you for your observation probably has something to do with all the sensory deprivation of the Happy Ending. y'know, the one that lasts [ERROR: time has stopped meaning anything]

he's also rather emotionally repressed, which--

- (Explore) "I'm not cold! I'm just… dumb! I'm just a big dumb stupid idiot! Stupid stupid stupid what was I thinking just believing what I was told?" Voice of the Cold - Oh, cut it out. You don't need to be so pathetic. The Spectre - Nevermind. I don't think I want to see you beg. That's just sad. I shouldn't feel sad about my murderer. - (Explore) Shit. Everyone sounds disappointed in me. I should grovel even more. Voice of the Cold - No. You're not doing that. The Narrator - That's right, don't you dare grovel. Mine is the only opinion that matters and I'll never be disappointed in you. So long as you do as I say.

- (Explore) "Do you want me to die? Do you want me to kill myself to satisfy some sort of sick revenge fantasy? Because I already did that and it wouldn't be hard to do it again." Voice of the Hero - Are we putting this to a vote? Because personally, I'd prefer if we didn't die again… Voice of the Cold - If that's what it comes down to, that's what it comes down to. But I don't see the point of offing ourselves just yet. The Princess - Aw, that's sweet of you to offer, but killing yourself wouldn't help either of us. The Narrator - It would seem that everyone here is in agreement except for you. I shouldn't have to tell you that you shouldn't kill yourself. So please, try to keep your suicidal tendencies in check.

–-i don't need to provide receipts for, we all know he is, but they're nice to have.

anyway! back to the topic at hand. Cold likes making decisions, doing things, having new experiences. but he's also hardwired for violence. the first things we learn of the world are paths in woods and basements in cabins and about a Princess and the end of the world. the first action we ever learn exists is that of [Slaying], specifically [Slaying the Princess].

it is an inherent knowledge at the core of Cold's very being. we, and by extension him, Can Kill. so, when prompted for his thoughts on this situation, his first inclination is violence. naturally.

Voice of the Cold - We could always try violence. It’s worked for us so far. Voice of the Hero - She's a ghost. Voice of the Cold - Who says ghosts are immune to violence? Voice of the Hero - … common sense? Voice of the Cold - There's nothing common or sensible about common sense. Action and observation are the only things that matter.

is it "the only language he speaks"? or is it the only language he was taught?

"action and observation are the only things that matter." all he has acted upon up until this point, all action he has seen, is acts of violence. all he has observed is violence and death.

speaking with Spectre prompts Cold to learn and philosophize on the little he knows, for the record. that's one of his major character traits: obnoxiously philosophical.

some highlights of Cold's philosophy, to pick his brain even harder for just a moment:

Action and observation are the only things that matter. (agreement with Skeptic)

[specifically when faced with ghosts] Death---at least as a form of permanence---is just a concept, and clearly one that's now rendered useless.

Reality is what's in front of us, not our preconceptions of what it should be. (agreement with Skeptic AND Paranoid)

There doesn't need to be a static 'truth'. There doesn't need to be objectivity. (agreement with Paranoid)

Everything here [in the Construct] is impermanent, always shifting. The end of one thing only leads to the start of another. (agreement with Shifting Mound)

“Who cares what we are? We exist.” -> Labeling one's identity is a pointless endeavor. What matters is that you exist.

[pondering] Where does one world end and the next begin? Does the destruction of one lead to the creation of another, or is it the same world, reborn?

what you'll notice is that Cold is very focused on existence, being real, existing in the moment*. being present and awake and aware of the things around you and the impacts you may or may not have on them. there's no need to question who or what you are; you are, and that's what's most important to him. to exist. to be somewhere. to do something. he takes whatever is presented in front of him, works to accept it, and then internalizes what he's learned. * odd, then, that Hunted and Cold don’t get along, no? not too odd at all. the major sticking point is that Cold doesn't care for survival while Hunted does. Hunted is very risk-averse (he might even appreciate the Happy Ending because of the net safety it offers), whereas Cold will take anything as long as it's a raw experience. Hunted's "in the moment" is STAY ALERT. STAY ALIVE. whereas Cold's "in the moment" is Feel. Be. Act.

but just because violence is his first inclination doesn't mean he's tunnel-visioned into it*. he can be persuaded to try out different avenues of action. * if you do initially attack the Spectre, he does tunnel vision. it's clear that the Decider's intention was to Slay the Princess, and there have been complications that he needs to figure out how to address. but i can get into this more later.)

Voice of the Hero - Fine. Then let me 'observe' that the 'acts' of killing her and killing ourself haven't got us much of anywhere. We're still back in this cabin, and we're still dealing with her, only now she has a good reason to hate us. Voice of the Cold - I suppose you have a point. Do you have any ideas, then?

Hero appeals to Cold's (mask of) pragmaticism, and it works.

Voice of the Hero - We could always ask her what she wants? Voice of the Cold - But those are the only options, aren't they? Violence, or doing what she wants. Or just leaving her down here. Though ignoring a problem is rarely a solution, isn't it? Voice of the Cold - That’d be dull, anyway. It’s more interesting if we make a choice. Voice of the Cold - She’s not in a position to bargain with us. You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to. Voice of the Hero - We don't have to do anything, but maybe we should. We did kill her. Wouldn't it be the moral thing to help her now that we have another chance?

Cold is not convinced by "it would be the moral thing to help her". he doesn't do morals. but he does "do" "violence hasn't gotten us anywhere [besides the Good Ending, and that was terrible]. this is a new option for us; we’ve killed her, now we have a chance to help her."

he has no real drive towards violence. it's just the only language he knows to speak. and if offered something else, well…

frankly, i think Cold would immediately agree to possession. but taking those (Explore) options gives some more insight into Cold's thoughts on the matter, so we'll look into that. [i'm melting together both Cold and Soft Spectre dialogue here, just to overall get some insight on Cold. this isn't a Spectre analysis. as for their differences to Cold: Cold outwardly likes Cold!Spectre more, but has more agreeable conversations with Soft!Spectre.]

Voice of the Hero - Is she asking if she can… possess us? The Narrator - She is, and I hope I don't need to explain why you can't let that happen. It would be catastrophic if she managed to escape this place, and if you let her in, there is very little anyone could do to stop her. Voice of the Hero - Would she be able to see… us if we went along with it? Voice of the Cold - Now isn't that an interesting thought. We could finally bring her face- to face with Him. I wonder what she would have to say to the one who wants her dead so, so badly…

note that Cold uses "interesting" as a compliment. intrigue is an important emotion for him. (it's the opposite of boredom.) it's also clear indication that Cold does feel things, he just chooses, consciously or not, to ignore those feelings most of the time.

Voice of the Cold - It could very well be the best way to trap her for good. Doesn’t seem like it would be very easy to end the world from inside someone else’s body.

Cold is doing some suggestion here. he's already, immediately, in favor of possession. he's just making it sound more appealing to … well, the Decider, it must be. he doesn't care much for the Narrator's opinion. (but he'll never force them to do anything. "You don't have to do anything you don't want to.")

- (Explore) "This would just be temporary, right? You'll leave once we're out of the cabin?" The Spectre - Look, I don't want to be stuck with you any more than you want to be stuck with me. You're my murderer. All I see when I look into your eyes is the thing that ran at me with the point of a blade aimed for my heart. The Spectre - So… you're not exactly my first choice. But you're also my only choice. Voice of the Cold - It sounds to me like she'd be a lovely roommate.

Voice of the Cold - What’s another voice rattling around in here? We’ll be fine.

noteworthy dialogue implying VoT Cold, at minimum, tolerates VoT Hero and doesn't consider the headspace too crowded.

Voice of the Hero - It's pretty crowded already, wouldn't you say? And she's not exactly friendly. Voice of the Cold - Neither is He. The Narrator - I'm being perfectly respectful considering the stakes of the situation! Don't push my good will.

Cold seems to think the Narrator counts as one of us, at least as a roommate. a voice in the head. he hasn't observed otherwise, beyond the pathos of the Narrator bossing them around, and Cold isn't moved much by pathos like that. he DOES want to slay Him very, very badly. but i've also wanted to kill my roommates at times, so… that's something he and Soft!Spectre have in common, actually!

The Spectre - […] everything will be fine. The Narrator - Everything won’t be fine if you listen to her. Voice of the Cold - One way or another, this is all going to end. Wouldn’t it be nice if He ends with it? The Spectre - Wouldn’t that be nice? There’s only one way to find out.

anyway, we're naturally going to agree to a possession in this scenario. Hero's made a rather convincing argument. but, by leaving the blade upstairs, we're presented with one last chance to opt for violence… one final divergence point...

The Narrator - I can't believe you're even entertaining her right now. I mean, just look at her, do you think she has good intentions for her 'murderer's body'? Of course she doesn't! - "Sounds great. Do it." [Let the Princess possess you.] The Spectre - You're really trying to make it up to me, aren't you? Thanks for being a pal, killer. I mean it. The Narrator - This body wasn't made to hold you and the Princess. If you want to renege on your cataclysmically terrible decision a minute ago, well, you're the only one who can make that happen. - (Explore) [Take the blade.] - [Trudge forward.]

... Let’s continue on our chosen path for the time being.

Voice of the Cold - Was exhaustion the best you could muster up? It’s over. There’s no use stalling. Let’s see what happens next.

Cold has a habit of rushing the Narrator when something he likes is happening. or, more accurately, blocking interruptions.

The Spectre - Nothing. He’s gone. And so is everything else. Voice of the Cold - So we did slay Him after all. He had it coming, I suppose.

note on VoT Cold’s dialogue: “i suppose” is not a dialogue particle indicating uncertainty, just a manner in which he tends to narrate his own dialogue. whenever he’s conversationally voicing his thoughts rather than acting in an advisory role, he tends to use “i suppose” to declare those thoughts.

it's a small victory, and the slightest, most subtle celebration between himself and the Princess. it is nice, isn't it? they talked about exactly this happening.

In this instance of events, Cold progresses from slayer to savior.

AN EMPIRE OF FRIGID NOTHING (SPECTRE)

"Which came first, the Chicken or the Egg?"

There are two major ways to interpret how Voice Hatching works:

The Voices Spawn. The manner in which the Decider behaves, the things they experience, and the trauma they endure influence the Voice hatched upon their death. Their personality, philosophy, and perspective are informed by what Quiet collectively has gone through. The Egg (previous iterations of the Decider) hatches into The Chicken (Voice).

The Voices Always Existed. The options provided to a player are reactions to their environment and circumstances, adulterated with the impulses and personality of nascent Voices waiting to hatch. The Chicken (Voice) lays The Egg (options the Decider picked in the previous Chapter).

There are more than two ways to interpret how Voices operate, and most you ask this question to will say something in-between these two black and white options. Ultimately, it's inarguable that a Voice is always influenced in some manner by events preceding their hatching. It is not that fact of influence the debate is centered on, but the interpretable extent. The fact is openly supported by the text.

Certain Voices will take credit for actions taken in the previous Chapter (ex: Cold claiming to have killed Damsel in Burned!Grey) or the previous life (ex: every Voice, bar Hero & Cheated, in Razor's Chapter IIIs), and many others will remember events long before they hatch (ex: Smitten recalling the entire narrative up to Chapter III - The Thorn, Cheated recalling everything that happens before Chapter III - The Wraith).

With this background information in mind, we can examine the events in Chapter I - The Hero and The Princess leading into Chapter II - The Spectre mindful of how specific choices made by the Decider or certain events they encounter may influence Voice of the Cold moving forward.

[FOR CONTEXT: [Take the blade] once at the cabin, hereby accepting the Narrator's premise and following His word.] Voice of the Hero - She’s so coldly beautiful… is she really a threat to the world?

The Narrator - You step forward, your grip tightening as you steel your resolve. The Narrator - You lunge forward without a moment’s hesitation. The Narrator - You feel flesh easily give way and look down to see your blade already sinking deep into her heart. Voice of the Hero - But is it over? Really over? - Of course it is. She’s dead.

The Narrator - You did kill someone. Greater good or not, something would be very wrong with you if you didn’t feel at least a little bad. But it was for the greater good. One of these days, that will sink in and help ease your guilty conscience.

The Narrator - You open the cabin door, ready to return to a world saved from certain doom.

The Narrator - Only, a world saved from certain doom isn’t what you find. Instead, what you find is nothing at all. Where a lush forest stood mere minutes ago, the only thing in front of you now is the vast emptiness of some place far away. Voice of the Hero - What… happened? The Narrator - Everyone is fine, it’s just that you and the cabin are now far away from them. Don’t worry. You’ll be safe here. This is good. Everyone is happy. You’ll be happy.

- I was kind of hoping I’d get a better ending for saving the world. The Narrator - This isn’t an ending. In fact, now that the Princess has been slain, endings are a thing of the past. No… this is the beginning of eternity. Your reward. The Narrator - This is what’s best for everyone. Trust me. The Narrator - Time passes. You can’t be sure if it’s days, or months, or years or even decades. It’s all a wonderful, boring blur. You’ve never been happier.

Voice of the Hero - Pst! Hey! We’re not just going to stay here forever right? Voice of the Hero - Are we really happy, or is He just telling us that we are? - Hmm, okay maybe I’m not happy. And I’m not just saying that because you’re the last person I talked to. Voice of the Hero - Good, because I have an idea to get us out of here. Though you’re probably not going to like it. Voice of the Hero - The blade. We can use the blade to get out of this.

The Narrator - Do you hear that? It wants to take this happiness away from you. It wants this wonderful place to end. Voice of the Hero - Do you not? There’s more for us to do, and the only way for us to do it is to take that blade and use it. The Narrator - Don’t you dare. - Anything to get out of this hell. Voice of the Hero - Thank you. The Narrator - I made this happy little place for you! Is this not a good enough reward for saving the world? An eternity of bliss? You… you ingrate! The Narrator - Fine. Whatever. For the first time since time stopped meaning anything, you throw open the door to the basement and walk down the stairs. The Narrator - You pick up the blade, you stab yourself, and you die. The Narrator - The end. Nice knowing you.

a set of directions from the Narrator, dutifully carried out by the Decider without the slightest hint of doubt, ignoring their conscience until faced with an utterly detestable "reward" for their compliance. critically, the timelessness perceived in that moment between opening the door to stare into the abyss and slaying oneself to be rid of the stagnation is so dilated in Quiet's perception that the Princess's corpse is reduced to a skeleton by the time the Decider plucks the Pristine Blade from its ribcage.

i could commentate further on this, or i could include one particularly noteworthy dialogue screenshot ---

- (Explore) Wouldn’t ‘using’ the blade… you know, kill us? Wouldn’t we be dead? The Narrator - How astute. You’re absolutely correct. Using the blade to kill yourself would kill you and you shouldn’t do it. Voice of the Hero - In a sense, we’d die, but looking at things from another angle, are we even really alive anymore? This place… it’s nothing! It’s absolutely nothing. It’s just the same thing, constantly, forever. Voice of the Hero - I know this is out there, but trust me. I know using the blade will work.

--- and let Cold speak for himself on the matter:

[FOR CONTEXT: in response to the Narrator saying we're only here because we died, which probably only happened because we didn't listen to Him] Voice of the Cold - Oh, we listened to you plenty. We slew the Princess, just like you asked us to. And then you locked us away in an empty void for eternity. So we slew ourselves, too.

[FOR CONTEXT: in response to the Narrator asking what would've happened to the world we left behind had we failed to slay the Princess] Voice of the Cold - It doesn’t matter, because we didn’t fail to slay her, and if she’s really back, which I doubt, it’ll be just as easy to do it again. But after that nasty trick you pulled on us, maybe she’s not the only one around here in need of slaying.

[FOR CONTEXT: in the cabin with Spectre, talking to the Narrator about the ghost-Princess after having talked to Him previously in the woods about the looping] The Narrator - What do you mean, ‘after’? Voice of the Cold - You already know what we mean, don’t you? So why don’t you go ahead and tell us? Are you going to try and lock us away in a timeless void again? Because I didn’t much care for that. The Narrator - I’m not going to lock you anywhere. Voice of the Cold - What an interesting choice of emphasis.

- (Explore) If anything, the world ended after I slew her. When I tried to leave, everything was gone. Voice of the Hero - That’s a good point. How do we know we didn’t have things backwards? Maybe slaying the Princess was what ended the world, not the other way around. Voice of the Cold - Yes, maybe this whole thing was a trick to get us to end the world. And now we get to go through the whole charade again wholly aware of what’s waiting for us at the end. Voice of the Cold - But that’s assuming she’s alive in that cabin. We did kill her, after all.

Voice of the Cold - This is boring. He’s clearly not interested in talking, so let’s just do as He says and maybe He’ll stop bothering us.

Cold is interesting because, as I'll point out later (both in this analysis and whenever i seek out Cold's other appearances), you need to read between the lines and in the negative spaces quite often to gauge what he's thinking. here, though, back in the woods again, Cold's an open book. "we listened to you and you locked us in an empty void for eternity. i really didn't care for that. it was a 'nasty trick.' we slew ourselves." note that Cold isn't expressing regret or remorse for anything that happened. he doesn't feel guilty about [Slaying the Princess], and he's outright convinced we're capable of doing it again. note twice, though, that Cold doesn't think we need to. he's fully convinced that her death sticks, even if ours didn't. he isn't readying up, either. it's just a job to him. (Something he was asked to do. a task, some dirty work. he holds no real opinion on the act of [Slaying the Princess], not here, and not now.) A job that, as he's seen, has no good rewards. In fact, the end result of completing this task is not something he wants at all. But he also really, really, really wants the Narrator to shut up, and trying to talk to Him isn't getting anything done.

[lotus-pear]

finally started p5 royal ‼️‼️‼️‼️

expect some royal trio art soon they are my dearly beloveds (minus akechi i hope he dies in this reality too)

[wonderjanga]

Marvel Eating Random Things

I love allllllllll the Billy eating random things as Marvel posts/headcanons. I don’t know why. I just love it. I love unhinged Marvel soooo much. But what if we took it one step further and had Marvel eat anything, including living creatures. Also, I’m gonna connect this to the Marvel being a Good Cook post. In that post, he’s just a good cook basically.

Flash: *passed out on the floor of the kitchen in a hypoglycemic coma*

Marvel: *walks into the kitchen and stops dead in his tracks* “Wally?” *walks over and prods him with his shoe* “Are you dead?” *kneels down to sniff him* “Can I eat you?”

Flash: *groans*

Marvel: *stands up* “Oh, thank the gods.” *picks Wally up to take him to the medbay* “Come on, bud. Let’s see if we can fix you up.”

A little bit later…

Flash: *on a medical cot and wakes up*

Marvel: *nearby, doing a crossword puzzle*

Flash: *sees Marvel* “Cap?”

Marvel: “Yes?” *fills in one of the words on the puzzle*

Flash: “Did you… Did you ask if you could eat me?”

Marvel: “Nope.”

Flash: “Yeah, that’s what I thought. It’s just I swear I heard you say something like that.” *sits up, stomach rumbling*

Marvel: “You were pretty knocked out, man. I don’t remember saying that.” *puts crossword down* “Why don’t we get something to eat? Like chili dogs or burgers or something?”

Flash: “Sounds great.” *gets off the cot so they can head to the zetas*

He gaslit, gatekeeped, and girlbossed. He’s also done this to multiple leaguers by the way. One of them was Batman who now has a recording of Billy asking if he could eat him. Bruce listened to it a solid ten times because in this AU, he knows next to nothing about Marvel, and now, because of this recording, he’s wondering if Marvel is, or was even human.

Then, there was the time him and Wonder Woman went together to wrangle some demons back into Tartarus. Unfortunately, one of the demons died during the process and didn’t make it back into the gates. So, now Diana and Billy were stuck with a demon corpse.

Diana: *looking at the corpse* “What should we do with it?”

Marvel: *also looking at the corpse* “Hmm… I have an idea.”

Diana: “Oh? Could you sha-” *now sees Marvel in his little lightning bolt apron and chef hat* “Why’re you dressed like that?”

Marvel: “I like to get into it.” *starts pulling salt, pepper, paprika, Goya Adobo, basically a bunch of seasonings out of his pocket dimension*

Diana: “Cap…? Cap. You can’t seriously be suggesting we eat the demon?”

Marvel: “I’m not suggesting anything. I’m just politely telling you that it’s one, delicious, and two also delicious.” *conjures up a giant, demon-sized, floating frying pan from nowhere with a fire underneath it*

Diana: *watches as Marvel picks the demon up, puts it in the pan, and starts seasoning*

She does end up eating some of the demon later with Marvel. Though she swore she would “never do it again.” But, when she heard Marvel tell her of a demon that tastes like hard candy when you mix its body with a certain magical herb, she wouldn’t admit it, but she had second thoughts. Those second thoughts amped up when he told her they were really good to eat with ice cream.

Then, there was the time with Aquaman. He came over to Atlantis because he wanted to see Aquaman’s sea creatures. His school had a field trip to the aquarium and he not only did he not have an adult to sign the permission slip, he also didn’t have enough money to pay the fare. Thankfully, Billy’s Marvel form didn’t need to breathe so he could go underwater just fine. Meanwhile, Arthur was just happy to yap about the sea creatures to and listen intently and ask questions and all that. Unfortunately, some mermaids swam up and decided to ruin their fun. Now, you see, they were sort of fighting them in an underwater cave and all the fighting caused a piece of rubble to come loose and fall on one of the mermaids, killing her. This caused the rest of them to run.

Aquaman: “Alright, back to the tour.” *sees Marvel casually sawing off the mermaid’s tail* “What’re you doing, man?”

Marvel: “I’m gonna eat this later.” *holds the mermaid tail up, shaking it a little*

Aquaman: “Oh. Cool. Can I have some?”

Marvel: “Sure, I can make it when our tours done.” *puts the mermaid tail in his pocket dimension*

Aquaman: “Nice, I’ll bring some Atlantean mead.”

Later…

Marvel and Aquaman: *both munching on mermaid tail*

Aquaman: “This really good!” *grabs some mead to drink down his mouthful of fish*

Marvel: “Thanks.” *munches on fish* “You know, I was surprised you wanted to eat this.”

Aquaman: “Why?”

Marvel: “You can talk to fish right? So, if you were to go to an aquarium, wouldn’t you hear some fish screaming to be let out or something?”

Aquaman: “Geez, I haven’t been to an aquarium since I was a kid.” *sounding nostalgic* “But nah, they normally just chill.”

Marvel: “I haven’t been to one ever. And really? Huh.” *munches on fish more* “But I guess what I’m really asking is if you’re sensitive about eating fish or not.”

Aquaman: “Nah, not really. In this great big sea, what did you think the main source of protein was? Plus, this is mermaid, it’s only technically fish.”

Marvel: *shrugs* “So is that a no? You don’t care about eating fish?”

Aquaman: *nods head as he drinks more mead* “It’s a no.”

Marvel: “Sweet! Cause I have a bunch of fish recipes I wanna try out.”

About an hour after this, Marvel had to help Aquaman home since the Atlantean challenged him to a drinking contest, not knowing the Captain couldn’t get drunk. Mera had a brow raised at Billy judgmentally the entire time he explained why he came home with her husband black out drunk.

[tmpestuous]

someone to stay

summary: bucky offers you solace as your mental fatigue rears its head.

pairing: boyfriend!bucky x reader

warnings: angst, reader anxiety/depression, fluff, non-sexual nudity, a comforting buck <3

word count: 2.5k

a/n: this was inspired by my own issues right now because i definitely need it at the moment :’) 

Getting out of bed was always the most difficult part of your day. Even when you were feeling okay, even when nothing was immediately wrong. You would wake up and stare into the void, blankets smothering your body and eyelids still heavy from the bit of sleep you’d managed to get.

There wasn’t anything pressing your anxiety, but having been out of your routine for a few weeks always left you feeling unmotivated. After having been sidelined from missions for a multitude of reasons—injuries, mental stability, and a dwindling success rate—you had nothing to do. None of your side hobbies entertained you long enough to keep you busy, so you fell into the same cycle. You sometimes wished you could sleep all day or even just stay stagnant in bed, but you knew it’d only make the fatigue worse.

Today, however, was not one of those days where you pushed yourself out of bed. Not bothered to check the time, you closed your eyes again. It was raining outside anyways, the perfect weather to stay cuddled in bed for. Soon enough, you found some sleep again, even if you’d regret it later.

Bucky, who was not sidelined from missions, had just come back from one, more than eager to see you. He was back earlier than expected, so he only figured you wouldn’t be in your usual spot waiting for him in the hangar of the compound. It was a bit past noon, so he assumed you were keeping busy elsewhere.

After a quick debrief, he made it to your shared room, only to be led to confusion at the curtains still drawn and all of the lights off. He knew how much you hated sleeping in too late, only ever sleeping past 9 if you were really exhausted and/or hadn’t gotten much sleep at all. Even then, you never let it get past 11 before you were up and out of bed.

Bucky knew you were taking your suspension a bit rougher than expected. He hated seeing you upset and he was even willing to skip out on a few missions to stay with you, but you’d insisted otherwise, saying “the bad guys don’t take breaks.” 

He never liked leaving you. Most of your missions had the two of you together, SHIELD thinking you worked well together even outside of your relationship. Going on missions without you meant he was always stuck with some reckless, inexperienced agent who wasn’t half as skilled as you a lot of the time. It was why he only liked the ones where he was with Sam or Steve, at least not having to stress about saving anyone.

He missed you on every single one. Your quips, how satisfying it was to see you kick people’s asses, and how swiftly you did just about everything. But Bucky also knew you needed a break. Your anxiety was more rampant lately, and it was affecting all of your skills on the field. The decision to bench you didn’t come easy to anyone, but especially not you.

You honestly had little to no idea what had you so anxious to start with, but anything else that triggered your anxiety only amplified it. Bucky was so reluctant to let Steve suspend you, but after you got seriously injured on a mission for lack of attention, he couldn’t argue against it anymore.

“You can’t be serious,” you said to Steve, tears in your eyes. “I’ve been injured so many times, why does that even matter?”

“It’s not just the injury,” Steve countered. “You’ve been off your game. I can’t risk losing one of our best members because you’re distracted.”

“I’m not dis—”

“You being distracted is how you ended up with a broken arm and a head injury,” he cut you off, making you look away from him. “You’re gonna end up dead if you keep on like this. I can’t deal with that loss, and neither can Bucky.”

Snapping your gaze back at Steve, you scoffed.

“So this is about Bucky?”

“This is about you, Y/n,” Steve said, his tone slightly more irritated. “He begged me not to bench you, said you just needed some time but even he knows putting you on the field again is risking your life.”

Wiping your tears away, you said nothing in response. You knew he was right, but the last thing you needed was to give in. It’d make you crumble, it’d make this whole situation real and you knew where you’d end up. 

Your conversation ended when Bucky walked in the room.

It was the right decision after all. However, Bucky’s chest ached knowing how low you were feeling. Knowing that you were doing everything just to get by, yet nothing at all. He hadn’t seen you in a melancholy state for years, but it always scared him. He barely made it out of his own episodes sometimes, panic manifesting through his bones. His worry only worsened at the thought of not being able to pull you from the darkness, the way you’d done so for him many times. 

Seeing you under the sheets, sound asleep past noon didn’t settle Bucky’s own anxiety. He was out on this mission for eight days, but you’d sounded okay when you spoke to him over the phone every night. 

Were you not getting any sleep? Were you falling asleep really late? Or was your current funk really getting to you?

Bucky set his duffel bag on the floor, shutting the door behind him. He decided against opening the curtains until you were awake, sitting on the edge of the bed next to your sleeping body, placing his flesh hand on your cheek gently.

“Sweetheart,” he said, leaning down and kissing your forehead a few times. “Let me see those pretty eyes, doll.”

Furrowing your eyebrows before peeling your eyes open, you were greeted with your favorite super soldier, a smile creeping on your face.

“Hi,” you said groggily, Bucky kissing your forehead again. “You’re back early.”

“Got the job done quickly,” he fed your curiosity. “What are you still doing asleep, doll? Are you okay?”

“What time is it?” You said, still unmotivated to get up from your lying position. 

“Almost 1,” Bucky answered before your eyes widened and you sat up, frantic about how the morning got away from you. “Hey, hey,” Bucky placed his hands on your shoulder, easing the tension a bit. “It’s okay, there’s nothing wrong with oversleeping once in a while.”

You shook your head, avoiding Bucky’s gaze as you rubbed your eyes. “I shouldn’t have slept that long.”

Bucky pressed a kiss to your shoulder, then your cheek, then pulled your hands away from your eyes. The bags under them didn’t go without notice, Bucky getting more worried than earlier. He knew you weren’t sleeping well, and him not being here to soothe you must have made it worse.

“Is everything okay?” He asked again, never getting an answer from you.

You sighed. “I don’t really know, I’m just- I’m always tired and don’t wanna do anything even though I know I shouldn’t just stay in bed. I was gonna wake up early today to see if I could get moving but then I barely slept and thought a few more hours could be useful but now—”

“Shh,” Bucky said, pulling you into his embrace, rubbing your back softly. “There is still a lot of time left in the day, but I don’t mind sleeping this Sunday away with you after the mission I just had.” He kissed the top of your head a few times. “We can shower then eat and then rest. Sounds good?”

You nodded, with a muffled ‘okay’ into his chest before pulling away, Bucky standing and grasping your hand in his to head to the bathroom. 

Bucky turned the shower on, letting it run to get warm before turning back to you. After you helped Bucky take his tac suit off, he helped you shed your pajamas. The both of you took your underwear off, Bucky checking the water before you stepped in. 

You always enjoyed showering with Bucky, most after a mission when you were both tired. Though this was different since you weren’t the one coming home, the sentiment of being tired remained the same.

Bucky could tell you were tense, that something was still bothering you. He never wanted to pry, so he massaged the tension out of your shoulders, getting you to relax your posture a bit. You both worked your way around lathering each other with soap, your eyes doing their usual routine of scanning Bucky’s body for any cuts and bruises. Bucky decided to wash your hair, finding any means of making you feel relaxed. You sighed under his touch, leaning your head forward to rest against his chest as he rinsed your hair.

“Steve mentioned you going back on the field again,” Bucky eased into the conversation. “You feeling up for it?” Much to Bucky’s surprise, you shook your head, prompting him to lift your face in his hands. “What’s wrong, sweetheart? You know you can talk to me.”

Sighing again, you leaned into his touch. “I’m not ready.”

“I thought you wanted to get back,” Bucky furrowed his eyebrows.

“I do,” you nodded. “But I just feel so… out of it. Like my mind is out of fuel and it’s putting my body on pause. I have no energy lately, I don’t really know what’s wrong with me.”

Bucky looked at you, a hint of sorrow in his eyes. He’d been there, where his body was craving one thing but his mind just never allowed him to satisfy any of his desires. Depression didn’t always look the same, but he could tell when it was starting to consume you.

The restless nights, the fatigue, the lack of energy and motivation. It was a stark contrast to your usual, productive self. Sometimes Bucky would have to slow you down for doing too many things at once, so it pained him to see you not want to do anything at all. 

He decided right then and there he’d take a pause from any missions until you were okay. Until he could see the spark in your eye again, the pep in your step. The energy being revitalized.

“It happens, baby,” he reassured. “You’ve helped me through some of my funks, so let me help you out of yours, hm?”

“You don’t have to, Bucky,” you shook your head, but he shushed you, a chaste kiss placed on your lips. “I’m serious, you don’t have to pause your life for me. People still need help and I’ll get out of my fatigue stint eventually, so—”

“You know you’re not gonna convince me otherwise, right?” He shut you up again, offering you a smirk and another peck to the lips. “I would drop everything for you. At any time, on any day, at any given moment. You are my world, doll. If you’re not okay, then my world isn’t okay.”

“But what if they really need you—”

“They won’t,” Bucky grabbed the comb to detangle your hair. “Now come on, let me help you ease your mind, hm?”

Knowing you couldn’t say no to him, you turned so your back was facing him, Bucky smoothly getting any knots out of your hair. 

He knew how much you loved it when he did your hair, knowing the process was super long and you didn’t want to do it half of the time. When he first heard you complain about having to do it, he made you teach him your whole routine for whenever you were feeling unmotivated to. It was one of many things he eagerly learned for you, always wanting to pamper you. 

Feeling a bit overwhelmed over the fact that you had him back, here with you as he did everything in his power to clear your head from the anxious thoughts, you couldn’t help but tear up. 

When he finished detangling your hair, holding it up with a clip, he saw you crying, quickly pulling you in his arms, kissing you everywhere he could. 

“I’m here, sweetheart,” he said, leaning down to kiss your shoulder. “I’m not going anywhere.”

Once he let you return the favor of washing his hair, you made him sit on the built-in bench in the shower so you wouldn’t have to reach up the whole time. 

Bucky loved touching you, but he swore to everything that he loved your touch even more. Your hands were so soft and gentle, with each lather and rinse of his head.

“Your hair’s getting long again,” you said, running your fingers through Bucky’s brown locks, the length now passing his ear. “Are you gonna cut it?”

Bucky shrugged, his hands finding comfort in your waist as you stood in front of him. He placed a kiss on each of your hips then your stomach before looking up at you.

“Maybe, maybe not,” he answered before standing, kissing your lips again. He knew how much you liked his short hair when he first cut it, but deep down you loved his long hair too. You just never forced him to keep one or the other, knowing how many memories his hair held.

Bucky loved how well you knew him, how well you understood him. It was the main reason why he took his time to do the same for you.

Once you were both out of the shower and dressed, Bucky picked up his phone to order some food. You’d told him you were craving Chinese the night before on your phone call while he was away, so he ordered all of your favorites as you finished drying your hair in the bathroom.

After eating dinner, Bucky slid under the covers of your shared bed, extending his metal arm for you to grab as you slid in next to him. Your head found its usual spot on his chest, both of his arms encasing you in the pressure you sought so many times, your left leg over his right one. 

“Thank you,” you said softly as Bucky rubbed your back just the way you liked it. “For never judging me.”

“I would never plan to,” he said, using his right hand to lift your chin up. “We’re human. We have our moments where we need a break, a reset. You taught me that when I needed to hear it. Don’t think that it excludes you, my love.”

Leaning up, you pressed your lips against his in a soft kiss that said more than enough. 

Pulling away, you looked into those blue eyes that meant the world to you.

“What would I do without you?”

“Force yourself to do your hair routine every week,” Bucky joked, making you roll your eyes playfully with a smirk.

You pressed a kiss on his chest before laying your head on it again. “I love you.”

“I love you more, doll,” he said, massaging your scalp to soothe you until you fell asleep.

Bucky could watch you be this peaceful forever, vowing to spend the rest of his days making sure you were okay. He always knew you’d return the favor, enjoying every moment spent with you like this, comforted best in his arms.

[jamiethebeeart]

“But it’s not gay if he’s dead.” Danny’s head whipped around to stare down the street at two guys walking on the other side. He thought he was free of hearing that phrase ever again. Heart thudding in his ears, he crossed the street to tail these two guys. There was no way? Right? I mean Danny was something like 1,000 miles away from his hometown. There was no way two random guys in the big city of Gotham would’ve ever heard of –

“I don’t know man, it’s never been confirmed whether or not the “big guy” was actually… ya know?”

Danny seethed in frustration at the vague conversation. He stepped around a group of kids as he barely made the end of the crosswalk countdown.

“Nah, Red makes too many uncomfortable jokes about death to not have died.”

Danny sped up, weaving in between people to catch up before he lost the conversation in the din.

“It’s Gotham, we all make jokes about death.”

“Ya, but not like him. He seems to revel in them, like he actually kicked the bucket, permanent-like, not like those people who – I don’t know – cardiac arrest and are technically dead for a couple minutes until the EMTs get to them or whatever.”

A car puttered down the road – releasing a huge plume of exhaust in between Danny and the guys. Danny sighed, fully intending to return to his original path with the reassurance that they weren’t talking about Phantom. Then the next damned sentence came out of one of their mouths.

“Ok sure let’s say you’re right. Is it necrophilia if his body started decaying before coming back?”

‘Fuck it’ Danny thought as he turned back around. He had to see how this conversation ended – definitely not because the answer to that question kept him up night. Absolutely not. Call him a cat because he was just curious and not all at invested in the answer.

“Oh! Dude, shut the fuck up! Why would you – that’s disgusting! Are you kidding me!”

“Answer the question Mr. It’s Not Gay if He’s Dead – necrophiliac: yes or no?”

“No? Have you seen Red’s body? No way a dead guy could have muscles like that – I mean you gotta have working bodily functions right? To build muscles or whatever the fuck? Like have you seen his abs? Or, shit, just his arms - I mean swoon worthy, what I wouldn’t give to have him hold -”

“…….”

“- me…. What are ya looking at me like that for?”

“When, exactly, have you seen his abs.”

“Aaaah - that’s not the point –“

“Sure as hell hope that’s the point.” Red Hood stepped out of an alleyway they were walking past. Even with a helmet on, Danny swore the guy stared straight at him. He was so fucked getting caught listening in to this conversation – could he play it cool? Danny was cool right? Yeah, he could totally pull this off, act totally normal and keep walking. Hunching his shoulders some and turning his body away from the three men, he walked past. Or tried to. Red Hood caught the back of his shirt, stopping him from getting away. Unless Danny was willing to expose his powers to get out this situation, the best he could do was play dumb and hope Hood let him go without too much hassle.

“Boss!”

“Hey Boss – you didn’t happen to only hear the second half of that, did you?”

Red Hood growled, “the part about necrophilia or the part about my abs?”

Danny twisted his head back to see Goon #1 turn pale. “Uuuh – uh- um,” met Red Hood’s question.

A choreographed roll of the eyes, “Better question, why are you talking shit out on the streets and not paying attention to your little stalker,” Hood gestured to Danny.

“I’m not a stalker!” Danny huffed. His eyes widened. All three guys looked over at him. ‘SHIT’ Danny thought. He did not want to catch anyone’s attention more than he had, much less all three.

Goon No. 2 looked at him, as he resumed his squirming in Red Hood’s grasp, “So who are you?”

Danny glanced up to see Red Hood staring down at him. Today just wasn’t his day. “Hood,” Danny blurted out.

Silence. The tips of Danny’s ears turned bright red

“Uhm, I mean, a tourist?” “In Crime Alley, kid?”

"I'm not a kid," Danny muttered.

Hood shook Danny’s shirt hard enough to also shake Danny himself. “Try again. I’ve seen you around often enough to know that’s a lie.”

“It’s true!” Danny lied. “I was visiting the city, my wallet got pickpocketed with most of my money, so now I’m… kind of…. Stuck here? Indefinitely?”

Goon No. 1 laughed at him, “do ya think we’re dumb? You have a cellie right? No way you’re ‘stuck here’.”

“Exactly, so who do you work for? Penguin?” A jab towards Danny’s face. “Riddler?” Another jab and a step towards Danny. “Is it Two Face?” Another, even closer jab. Danny went cross-eyed looking at the finger in front of his nose.

“Back off,” Hood said. Danny breathed a sigh of relief at being given some space. And then the next words came out of Red Hood’s mouth, “Get lost you two – and stop gossiping on the street. And you-“ Hood turned back to Danny, “ – you’re coming with me.” Danny gulped. Today was going down as another shit day in the books for sure.

[hana-no-seiiki]

WHY DON’T YOU GIVE ME A SMILE? (ACT 2)

YANDERE! BATFAM x JINX (ARCANE/LEAGUE)-ESQUE! READER

[ ACT ONE HERE ]

cw/tw: mentally ill reader. schizophrenic reader. reader w/ abandonment issues. manipulative reader. crimes. arson.

summary: we dive deeper into Gotham's explosive personality and history with those that took the title of ‘boy wonder’

MORE ON YOUR ORIGINS

“They were right! You’re just a Jinx.”

“Everybody shut up! I need to think!”

“We weren’t . . . “

As much as you scared the crap out of Joker’s goons. Since they saw you grow up first hand. A lot of them tended to be overprotective over you.

I mean, they’re insane enough to follow Joker. What more you?

They see you as his successor. An heir of sorts.

Which is why Jason Todd felt like he had no choice but to either fix you or keep you locked up.

You don’t remember much of him. If you did you would hate him.

He was the one that essentially helped you pull the trigger on your family.

If you haven’t read my other posts about it, here’s the rundown.

Jason had a massive crush on reader when the two of em were kids. Prior to everything. Before he was adopted, before reader set their world ablaze, before shit hit the fan essentially.

He saw how neglected you felt. The rejection you faced from your peers for not being strong enough. For being small and weak.

Him and your sister were pretty popular amongst the kids but it only made the comparisons worse.

It was always how they were “twice the kids at [Y/N]’s age.”

And so he thought of a little gift. Just a little something to show the others how cool you really are.

He didn’t expect you to use it that way. And the worst part of it all, he wasn’t there to comfort you. I mean sure, dozens of people died that day. Many of which he was somewhat fond of. But he was sure they’d want him to comfort you. To say that it wasn’t your fault.

And despite all that, you only knew Jason as that one guy Joker went too far with.

“Hey, [N/N].”

The call of your name almost froze you on the spot. Their screams pushed forward from the back of your mind into the forefront. You didn’t think. Your hands just pulled the trigger of your machine gun on its own.

“Who the hell are you?” You grit your teeth. You’ve heard of this Red Hood going around and ruining your adoptive father’s plans lately.

And what’s worse? The man kept forcing you to stay away. Plying you with all sorts of prostitutes and all the money you could ever need or want.

Despite your hostile disposition, the man in question doesn’t return it. “I’m sorry. This was all my fault. I shouldn’t have left you behind.”

“Leave.” You lowered your machine gun. A sudden wave of drowsiness overwhelmed you. A sense of calm. Weakness. Everything was screaming at you to end the source. But if he kept dodging your bullets them perhaps diplomacy would work.

You breathed out. [Y/N]. That name, that identity — though it fell down a well and was long dead it still had it uses.

Softened voice, doe eyes, and posture loose. If you had no other weapon they you always had your vulnerability.

“You need to leave, Joker is coming soon and I can’t help you if you’re caught.”

“Who was that, Jinx?” Joker asked.

You turned around. Your eyes meeting his chest and then his face, where that wide, freakish grin was stuck unto him.

“Old man, I think you mean what.” The toxic pink glint flashed through your eyes as you once again buried your old self along with the rest of the corpses that have met their demise by your hand.

“Meet Fishbones.”

BACK TO YOUR RIVAL:

Recently Tim had been . . . more agreeable to your demands somewhat?

You could tell he was pulling his punches.

Sometimes he’d even join you in your exploits.

You never trusted him of course. You never trusted anyone but yourself. But he was fun to be around is all. Whether it was you two beating each other to near death or blowing up buildings (he made sure to evacuate its residents before you two went all out).

“You know. I kinda wanna blow up that building. Don’t you think we’ll have a better view of the sky that way, Timmy?” You pointed to the structure with your signature gun shaped hand gesture.

That was one of Bruce’s buildings.

“You . . . “ Tim blinked at you a couple of times. “are so right.”

“Let’s go.” You yanked him the hand.

Tim smiled. Even if he wasn’t making direct contact with your skin, and you with his — he couldn’t help but smile at the intimacy of this moment. What were his worries with you beside him? All the sadness and anger felt so fleeting when he was with you.

His glee almost costed him his life as it took him a couple of moments to realize that you have pushed him off a building after a while of parkour.

He managed to grapple himself back, and with your assistance, he got back up to the ledge you two were on.

He gave you one half hearted glare. You laugh at his face, “You’re such a loser! Always ready to cry! Wah wah wah!” And you set off. Getting within the building with no care for stealth whatsoever.

What was the point of being all sneaky like when you had bombs on you?

"Wait up! Get back here!" Tim ran after you. He didn’t mind that you were essentially destroying all his and Bruce’s hard-work on his industries, but you were being too reckless. He would sure as hell minded if you were caught.

Turns out he wasn’t so far off when it came to his fears and suspicions.

“You. You set me up.” You glared at him. Hands on your blaster. Ready to shoot at a moment’s notice. Your eyes flicking between the men in front of you, wondering who was best to pick off first.

Batman, Nightwing, or the man you stupidly thought was your friend.

“No. No you have to believe me I—“ Tim tried to explain. But Dick cuts him off, “Good job, we couldn’t have done it without you.”

“You traitor. I knew it. I knew it.” Your voice got weaker and weaker.

No, no, no. It wasn’t supposed to be like this. This wasn’t part of the plan. Tim was supposed to be with you for longer.

“I told you, you have no choice.” Bruce finally spoke. His cape moved to his back.

He wasn’t going to let you go. Not without making it bloody.

“Oh, boohoo. You’ve always been no fun!” Your eyes never leave the two dark suited men, but Tim knew you were speaking to him. “Good thing I never trusted you.”

And you take a deep breath, dropping the laughing gas Harley gave you for emergencies. It wasn’t as strong as the original one, hell you’re sure that those people probably expected that move. But it at least blocked their line of sights on you, allowing you to create some distance.

You managed to get far enough to ready your weapons and send a call of help to your adoptive parents before your prediction proved to be true — footsteps behind you; loud and clear.

“Look’s like we’ve got even more company. Huh, boy savior?”

“Don’t move and I won’t cut you down.”

Pow pow in your hand, and desperation in your mind. The last thing you heard is a blade unsheathing before you pull the trigger.

୨ ©️ ୧⸝⸝﹕hana.no.seiiki - yun | 2024﹐⊂☁️⊃ ‹𝟹

AUTHOR’s NOTE: YALL THOUGHT THIS WAS GONE!! WELL THINK AGAIN!! I AM BACK!!! Sorry for the late update!! Man I’m so excited for season 2 of arcane ahahsheudidj

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[holylulusworld]

Not my Logan (1)

Summary: Problems with the Multiverse suck. Even more when it brings someone back who has been long gone.

Pairing: Worst Wolverine x Immortal!Reader, Deadpool x Reader (platonic or not. You know him.)

Warnings: angst, language, mentions of loss of loved ones, grief, cocky reader, Deadpool being a pain in the ass, violence, mentions of killings, multiverse chaos, world building

A/N: For my story, all X-Men died, except for the reader. She lives in the same universe as Deadpool from DP & Wolverine. I don’t follow canon. Live with it.

Square filled for the Wolverine bingo @buck-star created for me: Square 1: Claws

“WADE! Wade Wilson! Stop right there!” You growl, ready to shoot the bastard breaking into your property. Well, technically it’s not your property. Or it is. Charles left it to you in his will. Not because you were his favorite X-Men, but because you are the last one standing.

You huff before jumping out of the window. Wade would’ve loved to stop and admire your superhero landing, but he’s busy chasing after a very pissed Wolverine.

“Wolvie, stop! She won’t understand! Fuck. Shit. I said, Stop!” Wade takes off his mask. He wheezes because all he did all day was chase after the worst Wolverine. Logan’s words, not his. “HEY! I didn’t tell you about her for you to run off. We still have a job to do!”

“WADE WILSON!” You start to run, seeing Wade kneel on the ground. He still tries to catch his breath as you storm toward him. “I’d kill you but watching you grow legs and arms is disgusting!”

Instead of decapitating his head or stabbing Wade, you slap the back of his head.

“Ouch, Y/N.” He complains loudly. Wade got stabbed and shot; he lost body parts but whines like a baby when you slap him.

“What are you doing here? No one is allowed to come here any longer. You know that.” You sniff when he slowly gets up. “Not since…”

“I get it, I get it!” Wade raises his hands in surrender before turning around to face you. His face is a mess as always, but you can’t help but smile, seeing a familiar face. If you’re honest, he’s the only friend (if you want to call the cocky motherfucker a friend) you’ve got left. “Extinction is hard.”

“What did you say?” You slap him across the face, earning another whine. “You are an insensitive asshole.”

“Sweetheart, we both know you would have outlived all of them, no matter what. It just happened a little earlier this way.” Wade shrugs before putting his mask back on.

You run one hand down your face and huff. “What do you want, Wade? Is the world on fire, or did you lose a ball again?”

“No jokes about a man’s balls,” he points a gloved finger at you. “But yes, the world is ending once again. Or not. I mean… It depends.” Wade babbles as you put your hands on your hips.

“What did you do? I bet you messed with the timeline again, huh?” you snap at Wade. “Because that worked out so well last time. I told you to not fuck with timelines and shit. The dead shouldn’t come back.”

“Oh, about that,” Wade nervously chuckles. “I swear I didn’t resurrect anyone, but…uh…you see. Maybe, and I’m not saying it happened. But maybe I was hopping through different universes to find an anchor to save our universe from destruction.”

“Wade.” You close your eyes and inhale sharply. “Whom did you bring here, and do I have to kill them?”

“No, no! You cannot kill him,” Wade hastily says. “I came here for a short break. You see, bad guys are after our cute asses, and this is the safest place I know.”

“Christ on a cracker, WADE!” You kick his shin. “I’ve been out of this business for years.” You dip your head, hearing someone sneak closer. “Why would you bring anyone here? This is a lost place. Dead and forgotten. Just like me and the rest of the X-Men. Just like—”

Twirling around, you ready yourself to attack the person sneaking toward you and Wade.

Your body goes stiff, and you whimper, facing the man you lost so many years ago.

“No…” You step back and shake your head. “No…no. Wade. Out of all the people you could bring here…you do this to me?!”

“I swear, if I had a choice, I’d never do this to you. But—” Wade sighs and points at the worst Logan, he brought to your universe. “He wouldn’t believe me. Logan said you must be dead here too.”

You wrinkle your nose. “I cannot die. I am…immortal. My Wolverine would know that.”

The man, looking so much like your one true love, dips his head. He has the same body, the same eyes, and the same claws. Hell, he even wears the same fucking suit. But he’s not your Logan. He’ll never be your Logan.

“Go away. Both of you. Whatever will happen to this universe is not my problem. Maybe I can finally rest then too.”

You turn around to walk away, leaving Wade and Logan’s clone behind.

“Wait, Y/N!” Wade jogs after you. “I know you’re angry, but I couldn’t stop him. If there’s only a tiny piece of the undefeatable Y/N still inside of you, help us. Help me save my friends and this world.”

“Your friends,” you say, your heart heavy with sadness and grief. You glance at the photo Wade shows you, swallowing thickly.

“If there was a way to save your friends, you’d do anything, right?” Wade presses on. Even though he knows it’s a low blow, he cannot shelter you or your feelings. You’re his only chance to convince Logan to help him and get his clones off his back. “Please help me…”

“What the fuck is that?” You dip your head to look at the ugliest dog you have ever seen. “Uh—is that thing even alive?” Crouching down, you poke the dog’s nose with your index finger. “Who did this to you, little pug?”

“I think he was born this way?” Wade chuckles while picking the dog up. “And he’s not ugly. Dogpool is the sweetest.”

“Y/N. How?” Logan finally found his voice. He steps closer to you and Wade, not looking you in the eyes. “Why did you do it?!” He yells before jumping at you.

Logan tackles you to the ground to ram his claws into your sides. He growls like an animal, stabbing you again and again.

“What’s his problem?” You laugh as Logan tries to kill you. His claws dig deep into your flesh, but it doesn’t do much damage.

“Uh—from what I heard, you killed his people because he didn’t love you or shit?” Wade shrugs before letting the dog lick his face.

“YOU!” Logan growls. He slides his claws back in to slam his fists into the ground. Again, and again, and again. You can hear bones crack and flesh tear. “Why don’t you die?”

Logan looks at you, shaking his head. “You’re not her…”

“I assume in your world, I was mortal,” you sit up and push Logan away. While you slowly get up, he watches you with tears in his eyes. “In this world, my Logan would’ve cut your head off for touching me.”

“After we introduced ourselves, we should talk about the guys wanting to end this world. Come on, sweetheart. You know you want to help your Deadpool.”

“You’re annoying as fuck,” you huff while rubbing dirt off your ass. “If you keep that thing in line.” You jerk your head toward Logan kneeling on the ground. “We can talk.”

“She’s not her…” Logan repeats. “Not her…”

“You sound like a broken record,” you say and slap the back of Logan’s head. “And for the record, you’re not my Logan either…”

Tags in reblog.

[galactic-magick]

I Love You, I'm Sorry: Viktor x Reader

Based off of this reply on my last Viktor fic:

@lillycore : Duddee, imagine after the final scene between Viktor and Jayce they just disappear (I refuse to believe they both died, I’m just going believe, until it’s confirmed, that they simply teleported somewhere else), leaving reader alone without a chance to confront Viktor and believing they both died. So now, reader is left to pick up the pieces of her closest friend and love of her life gone, while believing Viktor no longer loves her (he does though, he was just a little confused with everything, but he still loves her)

Words: 1.2k

Author's Notes: Thank you all so much for the notes and kind words on my last Viktor fic, it truly means the world to me as a writer to see so many people touched by my writing. I hope you enjoy this equally devastating part 2.

They’re gone. They’re really gone.

No family, no friends, not a single loved one of yours survived this damn war. All this world has done is take, take, take.

You’re haunted by the last time you saw your beloved Viktor—completely unrecognizable. He had turned himself into a monster, disappearing with Jayce trying to save him. You didn’t even get to say goodbye, you didn’t even get to tell him you still love him.

Or ask if he still loved you.

You don’t know what would hurt less, believing he stopped loving you, or believing he did everything he did while loving you.

-

“Why can’t she hear me?” Viktor shouts into the void. He’s been calling your name for what feels like an eternity, his voice no longer carrying to your world.

Jayce puts a comforting hand on his shoulder, “You don’t have vessels to speak through anymore. She probably thinks we’re dead. Well, maybe we are…”

“No, no, this can’t be the end,” Viktor shakes his head vigorously. “I have to get back to her. She...she needs to know I love her. She needs to know I’m sorry.”

He falls to his knees amongst the stars, cursing himself for everything. How could he choose the hexcore over you? Why didn’t he seek you out when he survived the explosion? How did he let himself descend so far into madness that he forgot about your importance to him?

He’s now desperate for you to hear him, pleading the forces that bind his consciousness to this astral plane for another chance. He searches this dimension he’s come to know so well, looking for a loophole or tear in the fabric, but it’s no use. Everything has been closed—his supposed eternal consequence for his abuse of power.

Jayce saved him from himself, a feat he will forever be indebted to him for, but what is the point of redemption if he cannot live it out in his own flesh?

Would there have been a body left for him anyway? Would you still have loved him as the monstrosity he became?

Why must he still be cursed with the full vision of the universe? He sees you continue your life so clearly, but he can’t touch you, can’t speak to you. Your form shines the brightest light he’s ever seem in this dimension, an achievement that is not easily matched. He wonders if you can feel him reaching out to you, some sort of spiritual pull back to him. He will do anything to find a way to talk to you again.

-

You’ve been having dreams—dreams you can’t explain. Ever since Viktor’s disappearance, he’s tormented you day and night, constantly occupying your thoughts without mercy. You can hear his voice, but it sounds so far away you can never make out the words. You just wish it would all stop. You wish you could just erase him and all of the pain from your memory.

Sometimes you still feel a presence, the feeling you used to feel when he was in the same vicinity with you, admiring you from across a room. It’s a familiar warmth that used to wash you with peace, whereas now it makes your heart ache. You suppose it’s a normal symptom of grief, subconsciously denying that he’s really gone.

You start to go through his things he left at your house, beginning with his various textbooks and notebooks he would bring over for studying. Seeing his scribbles and handwriting again brings tears to your eyes, a single drop falling onto the paper as you read.

You blink a few times, seeing a couple of letters on the page start to glow. You must be seeing things, hallucinating from sleep deprivation. You close the journal and open it again, but the glowing letters are still there.

You grab a separate piece of paper and write down each glowing letter, finding fifteen total.

“I - L-O-V-E - Y-O-U - I-M - S-O-R-R-Y”

This isn’t happening. It can’t be.

-

“It’s working! She got my message!” Viktor exclaims.

“How...how are you doing that?” Jayce asks.

“Tiny rips in space—not big enough for either of us to escape through—but certainly big enough to briefly touch that reality,” Viktor pauses, still waiting for a response from you, but it doesn’t come.

-

You close the journal and sob, praying for an end to this misery. Your mind is playing tricks on you, deceiving you to a level you never thought possible. Must you be haunted by this forever? Must you endure the aftermath of this trauma?

You open it once again, the letters still glowing, but they start to fade right in front of your eyes. A new set of letters begin to glow, so you write those down as well.

“I-T-S - M-E - D-A-R-L-I-N-G”

And then another set of letters.

“P-L-E-A-S-E - T-A-L-K - T-O - M-E”

Maybe you’re not imagining.

You’ve heard of magicians who can converse with the dead, and the possibility of other dimensional planes and universes. Viktor himself had some theories about it, although he never pursued proving them. Could it really be possible that your beloved was speaking to you?

“Viktor?” you say out loud. “Are you...are you alive?”

“I - D-O-N-T - K-N-O-W”

The pencil drops from your hand again as your head falls to the table. His consciousness is somehow alive, clearly, but there’s no way he can explain to you where he is and how to get him out one letter at a time. You’re nowhere near his level of intellect—even if he explained how to rescue him like you’re five years old—you fear you still would mess something up.

“Viktor...I can’t do this. You can’t do this to me,” you sigh, daring to look at the words again. “You abandoned me, and now my life is a living hell because of the destruction you helped cause. I want nothing to do with your war and stupid glorious evolution. So if you’re not here to take me away from this life, please go away.”

The same original words start glowing again, brighter each time they sequence:

I love you, I’m sorry.

I love you, I’m sorry.

I love you, I’m sorry.

“Love doesn’t do what you did. Love doesn’t abandon its humanity for power.”

Please forgive me.

“I do forgive you for everything, Viktor. That’s exactly why I need to forget about you, because I will never stop loving you and hurting for it if I don’t.”

With blurry eyes, you close the journal and throw it into the fireplace, regretting it almost immediately. You grab a stick and pull it out, your tears falling onto the soot-stained cover.

“Please, just...find a way back to me.”

I will.

[loganhowlettsmybf]

logan finally seeing you again after he thinks you died many years ago but you were being held hostage for experiments

Echoes of the past

word count: 1,5k

warnings: deception of grief, mention of abduction and torture

logan gripped the neck of the whiskey bottle tightly, his knuckles white from the pressure. the glass was almost empty, a few swigs left, but enough to blur the edges of his relentless memories. it didn’t help. nothing did. not the liquor, not the fights, not even the passage of time. years had passed since he lost you, and the pain never dulled. you had been taken from him, ripped away by forces darker than anything he'd ever known. they had broken into the place you called home, leaving nothing behind but a trace of your blood.

he had searched everywhere, for years, for a hint, a clue, anything that might lead him to you. but time after time, his efforts met dead ends, and after years of failure, he resigned himself to the cruelest reality: you were gone. dead.

that was supposed to be the end of it. that was supposed to be the closure that allowed him to move on. but he couldn’t. the nightmares never stopped. the ghosts of what you shared together haunted every quiet moment, every breath. and the bottle of whiskey in his hand was just another failed attempt to drown out the echoes of your laughter.

but something had changed. a lead—something tangible—surfaced, out of nowhere, dropped into his lap by a mutant with telepathic powers. "she’s alive," the voice had said in his mind. "she’s still out there."

at first, logan didn’t believe it. he couldn’t let himself believe it. but the mutant had given him coordinates, a remote facility in the mountains where you were supposedly held. logan couldn’t risk ignoring it. and so he went, the last shred of hope dragging him through hell and back.

————————————————————————

the wind howled through the dense trees as logan scaled the side of the mountain. his body moved with a singular purpose, his senses heightened by desperation. he reached the facility, a hulking, abandoned bunker and smashed through the gates without a second thought. inside, the air was stale and cold. the place reeked of rot and death, but logan pushed on, the scent of you pulling him deeper.

he tore through doors and guards alike, the claws in his hands slicing through steel and flesh with ease. he could hear screams in the distance, the final cries of those who had kept you here, and it only fueled his rage. they had taken you from him, stolen years of your life. they were going to pay.

finally, logan reached a door, thicker than the others, with heavy locks that screamed of secrets too dangerous to escape. he tore it down without hesitation, and what he found inside made his heart stop.

you were there, crumpled on the floor, shackled and broken, your body battered and bruised from years of captivity. the sight of you was like a punch to his gut. you looked so fragile, so small compared to the vibrant person you had once been. but the worst part was your eyes, empty and hollow, a shell of the person he had loved.

logan fell to his knees beside you, his breath caught in his throat. "is it really you?" he whispered, voice cracked with disbelief.

you flinched at the sound of his voice, shrinking back against the cold floor as though you expected more pain to come. you didn’t recognize him. not at first. how could you? years of isolation and torment had twisted your reality, left you in a constant state of fear. but then, something in his voice, in the way he said your name, sparked a faint memory.

"logan?" your voice was hoarse, barely more than a whisper. you blinked up at him, and for a moment, just a moment, he saw a flicker of recognition in your eyes.

"it’s me, darlin’," he choked out, his hands hovering over your form, unsure of where to touch, how to comfort. "i’m here. i’ve got you. i’ve got you now."

tears welled up in your eyes, spilling down your cheeks as the realization hit you. after all these years, after everything they had done to you, logan was here. he was real. but the pain, the fear, the trauma—it all came crashing down on you at once, and you broke.

"i thought… i thought you were dead," you sobbed, your body shaking with the weight of it all. "i thought i was dead."

logan pulled you into his arms, careful of your injuries but desperate to hold you close. "i thought you were gone too," he whispered into your hair, his voice thick with emotion. "i looked for you… god, i looked for you everywhere. i’m so sorry i couldn’t find you sooner."

you clung to him, your fingers digging into his jacket as though he might disappear at any moment. "they… they did things to me, logan. they…"

"i know," he said softly, his voice trembling. "i know. but you’re safe now. i’m not gonna let anyone hurt you ever again."

you cried into his chest, years of torment pouring out in a flood of tears that wouldn’t stop. and logan held you, his own tears mixing with yours as he tried to soothe you, tried to take away your pain. but he knew he couldn’t. the scars they had left on you ran deeper than anything he could heal. all he could do was be there for you, hold you tight, and promise that you’d never have to face this alone again.

————————————————————————

the journey back was a blur. logan carried you out of that place, away from the horrors that had kept you imprisoned for so long. he didn’t stop until he found a safe house, far away from everything.

days passed in a strange, delicate rhythm. logan stayed by your side through every nightmare, every flashback, every moment when the weight of what you had been through became too much to bear. he was patient, gentle in a way that felt foreign to him.

at first, you barely spoke, still trapped in the silence that had been forced upon you for so long. but logan didn’t push. he stayed close, making sure you knew he was there whenever you needed him, ready to listen when you were ready to speak.

one night, as you sat together by the fire, wrapped in a blanket he had draped around your shoulders, you finally found your voice.

"they took everything from me," you said quietly, your gaze fixed on the flames. "i thought i’d never be whole again."

logan’s heart broke at your words, at the quiet resignation in your tone. he moved closer, his hand reaching for yours. "you’re not broken,“ he said, his voice gentle but firm. "they didn’t take you from me. you’re still here. you’re still you."

you looked at him then, your eyes searching his for something, maybe hope, maybe reassurance. "but what if i’m not?" you whispered. "what if i’m not the same person you loved?"

logan shook his head, his grip on your hand tightening. "you’re the person i love, darlin’. that’s never gonna change."

a small, broken smile tugged at the corner of your lips, and for the first time since he found you, logan saw a glimpse of the person you used to be. it wasn’t much, but it was enough. enough to remind him that healing wasn’t a straight path, it was messy, painful, and sometimes it felt impossible. but it was possible. and he would be there with you every step of the way.

————————————————————————

months passed, and the scars of your captivity began to fade, not completely, not ever completely, but enough that you started to reclaim pieces of yourself. you and logan rebuilt what had been taken from you, brick by brick, moment by moment. the nightmares didn’t stop, and the fear didn’t entirely go away, but you found strength in each other. and slowly, little by little, the cracks in your heart began to heal.

one day, as you stood on the porch of the cabin, watching the sun dip below the horizon, logan came up behind you, wrapping his arms around your waist. you leaned back against him, letting out a soft sigh as you felt the warmth of his presence.

"thank you," you whispered, your voice barely audible in the stillness of the evening.

"for what?" logan asked, his breath warm against your ear.

"for not giving up on me," you said, turning in his arms so you could look into his eyes. "for finding me.”

logan’s eyes softened, and he pressed a gentle kiss to your forehead. “I love you.”

tears filled your eyes, but this time, they were tears of something new. not pain, not sorrow, but hope. because even after everything, you had found your way back to each other.

[iluvloganhowlett]

I HATE YOU .𖥔 ݁ ˖

in which logan leaves for a mission unexpectedly for almost a year and still expects to be welcomed home upon return

warnings: angst, no happy ending (oops!), a little violence, mutant!reader, that’s it fr

reader has same powers as logan bc they were both experiments at the same time

i also switched up the timeline slightly so pretend logan isn’t a grumpy old man and is more so how he was in x-men (2000)

i also saw some other story that was kinda like this one but i couldn’t remember who’s it was so if anyb knows drop it so i can credit

part 2

“why are we here again?” wade questioned, stuffing a handful of cheetos he stole from a vending machine a while back.

logan only glared at him, “because. i left her for 9 months, the least i can do is come home and show her that im alive.”

wade shrugs, “who even is this ‘she?’ is she hot?”

in seconds, wade finds himself pinned against the wall of the hallway, logan’s claws only centimeters from his neck. “she’s my girl, you don’t get to talk about her being hot,” logan growls, retracting his claws and releasing wade.

“well damn wolvie! don’t get your panties in a bunch, im not stealing your girl! unless the charm is just too much for her then-“

“do you ever stop fucking talking outta your ass?”

wade only sighed, halting to a stop as logan did the same. “137,” logan muttered, looking up at the 137 sitting next to your door.

as logan rose his hand to knock, the door was swung open. logan’s eyes widened. he thought he’d gotten himself back into the right headspace to see you again, clearly he’d been mistaken.

the way your low-set brows rose up at the corners in anger, your long lashes drawing his eyes straight to your deep brown ones. your plush lips curled in slightly and your hair flowed down your back smoother than water.

wade whistled, “hey hot stuff-“ before he was cut of with a punch to the nose, dragging him down to the floor.

logan still had yet to say anything, admiring all the parts of you he’d missed.

however he was cut off with a groan, looking down at your claws that had made their way through his abdomen and back out, retracing back into your forearms.

“what the hell are you doing back here? and who’s the red sex-toy lookin’ thing that i j punched?”

as much as logan wanted to laugh at your dig at wade, he knew how to read the room. and frankly, he was still to stunned. “y/n? baby?”

“don’t call me that,” logan’s eyes widened, “you don’t get to call me that after disappearing for 9 months without notice, lo!”

logan couldn’t help but admire your use of his nickname you created even though you’re pissed at him.

“listen. i know, okay? i know and im sorry but if you let me in,” logan stepped closer, “i can expl- ah fuck!”

you’d stabbed him again in the same spot, pushing his body against the hall with your claws. “no you listen to me, logan. and you listen to me good. i’m not letting you come into my- our house after going awol for fucking forever and coming back with some random gay in a red suit,” you pulled your claws out of him but didn’t put them away this time.

your face softens, eyes moving rapidly between logan’s. he knew you better than anyone, he could see the way your eyes shifted from angry to vulnerable and the way your eyebrows lifted; you were a mini him, despite you being the same age.

“i thought you died, lo. i spent the past months thinking the only person i had and loved was fucking dead,” your eyes welled up as you backed away from logan, putting your claws away alas.

“i’m sorry, doll. im so sorry you have no idea,” logan’s calloused hands grazed your forearms, thumbs tracing the spot where your claws rested.

you sighed, holding back the urge to give in and hold onto him as long as you could.

“but you dont understand-“ you looked away, only for logan to lift a hand and cup your face in it, forcing your glossy eyes to meet his.

“you’re right, james! i don’t understand! so jesus fucking christ enlighten me.”

logan was taken back at your use of his real name, lip parting slightly. his heart ached more and more every time he watched your bottom lip quiver. he knew you were trying to keep up your strong facade, but were beginning to fail.

“i had a mission to go on. i had to save the world, baby!” your brows curled back into anger, and logan knew you thought he was bullshitting. “cmon, angel, stay with me. the asshat over there in the red, he dragged me into this. so if you’re gonna kill anyone for this, have it be him. i just- i need you to let me in.”

you shook your head. “lo- just-“ you stuttered, scavenging for words. “but why didn’t you say anything? you couldn’t have called? sent a letter? hell, baby i would’ve been happy with a fucking pigeon!”

“i didn’t have access to that shit.”

“for 9 months?”

he took a deep sigh, “yes, for nine months.” his tone grew louder. “because if i hadn’t left you for those 9 months there would be no more you for me to come back home to!”

“get out of my damn building, logan.”

“what?”

“leave! i want you and that goddamn red thing to get as far away from me as you fucking can and stay there.”

“y/n-“

“bye logan!”

you slammed the door in his face, leaving him standing there in utter disbelief.

logan’s claws retracted, “FUCK!” he screamed through the hall, leaving a giant claw park across your door.

he looked down at wade, who was watching from a safe distance on the floor. he put his claws away, grabbing wade by the fabric of his suit and dragging him onto his feet.

“get up, you heard the girl; let’s get the fuck away from her.”

logan was breathing heavy, more than ever before. it was like his heart couldn’t catch up to everything he was feeling in the moment. the last thing he wanted to be doing right now was walking out of your apartment building and leaving you, but he was weighed down by so much anger and hurt that he wasn’t exactly in control of himself at the moment.

“well,” wade started, “you handled that well.”

and before he knew it, wade was stabbed into a wall. “ow?”

logan growled, “i’m coming back for her.”

wade only let out a long laugh, stopping logan in his tracks.

“what the fuck are you laughing at? you should’ve heard the joke she made about you! she said you look like a sex toy-“

“i’m not laughing at that, you ape. i’m laughing at the fact that you’re coming back to her! look how it turned out the last time you ‘came back.’ “

“you don’t know what you’re talking about, kid. i’m coming back, whether she likes it or not. i’m not losing the love of my life after all i did to make sure i wouldn’t lose her.”

“i-“ “and next time im here, you won’t be.”

so! should i make a part 2 WITH a happy ending when he does come back??? 🫣🫣

♯ taglist! ∿

@spazwayy @oatmilkriver @sseleniaa @mei-simp @wittyjasontodd @wolverinesangel @realsimpbitchshit @pickuptruck01 @keigohawks @thereallchristine @velvrei

[mikanotes]

teach me ft. eunhyuk x gn!reader

genre: angst/comfort (?) established relationship (?) warnings: sweet home 3 spoilers, nothing much just not my best fic Sorry!!! possibly super ooc eunhyuk author’s note: not much insp so this isn’t my best! the season was pretty good though so. yeah! have this because i love eunhyuk and i missed him a lot.

summary: What do you do when the fight is over? When the person you were looking for comes back with half of his self missing?

“You know I could be of use to you, right?”

“How?”

You groan in annoyance, tilting your head back. The sky is clear and the streets are quiet. This doesn’t quite feel like the ultimate perfect ending, it doesn’t quite feel like peace, but it’s a kind of calm you won’t take for granted. You look back up and continue walking.

“You’re missing tons of emotions. Trust me, there’s no one better than me to help you relearn them.” you say, attempting a dramatic salesman kind-of tone but failing miserably. You hear Eunhyuk scoff and think it was a bit of a victory, anyways.

“That sounds believable.”

“It is!” you insist, jogging up to him, “I swear we were dating before you went off and died.”

“I know.”

“That’s insane. You— I mean, you didn’t forget things, so then you must know this isn’t how you treat the person you’re dating after not seeing them for over a year. Surely.”

Eunhyuk turns to look at you. “The person you’re dating? We’re still together?”

“I mean, it’s not like I ever gave up on you.” you say, crossing your arms. He stares at you blankly for a couple more seconds before looking ahead again.

“Sounds like a waste of time.”

You sigh and let your expression fall for a second before fixing it. When your gaze falls on Eunhyuk again, his own expression has changed ever-so-slightly. There’s a crease between his eyebrows and his eyes are squinting a little, with a familiar tilt of his head. Then he blinks and returns to this neutral expression of his. “Is it not?”

“What else do you have to do with your time?”

“Finding others—”

“—Like you. Sixteenth time you say this, by the way,” you scoff, walking ahead of him. “You’re starting to sound like a broken record.”

Your eyes are burning a little bit. No, none of this feels victorious. To hell with a final battle, with everyone escaping, with everything. Nothing has changed. All that’s good is Eunhyuk being alive and he only feels like half of himself.

The worst part is that he acts the same as he used to. To the detail. It’s so obviously him that it almost hurts— All his actions just miss the hidden emotions he always kept close to his heart. Now it all feels empty.

Eunhyuk says your name and your heart feels like it stops. Just for a moment. You turn to see him catch up to you and slow at your side.

“This thing,” he says, and pulls out a necklace from a pocket inside his coat, “It’s yours.”

You blink. “… Yeah. It is.”

He looks at the piece of jewelry, holding it up by the chain like some kind of random thing he found on the street, before tossing it around his hand and grabbing the pendant in his palm.

“She said to use memories to relearn emotions,” he recalls quietly, then turns to look at you, “What do you think?”

“You tell me. Do your memories help?”

“I remember caring about you.”

You stare at him dead in the eye and barely blink at all for a few seconds. He does, and tilts his head again.

“What is it?”

“Why am I the only one still in love? That’s really unfair.” you huff.

“Don’t cry.”

“I’m not.”

“I said I remember everything, why are you trying to fool me? You always made this exact same face when you tried to hold back your tears,” he states, “I know this much.”

You heave a deep sigh and crouch down on the ground, covering your face with your hands. He’s right. It’s starting to make you angry. It really is him. It’s as if part of you was still trying to believe it wasn’t really Eunhyuk, that he was pretending not to feel emotions anymore. But it really hits you this time, that he’s simply lost that part of himself. You should be grateful that’s all he lost in the process of his rebirth, but you miss him. You miss him so much it hurts.

“I told you not to cry,” he sighs, and the closeness of his voice indicates he moved to your level, “What’s the point?”

“I miss you.”

“I’m right here.”

You shake your head.

“…If it’s making you this sad, then alright. Help me relearn them. Emotions,” he says. You take a deep breath and look up slowly. He’s waiting, crouching in front of you, a casual expression on his bloody face. “I’m a quick learner.”

“Okay. I’m bad at teaching though, I totally lied earlier. Promise not to leave me.”

“I have no reason to anymore. Besides…” he trails off, gaze averting. “…”

Lee Eunhyuk is more confused than he’d like to admit. He doesn’t feel emotions anymore, and he doesn’t feel any attachment to them either. There’s little hints of them, however, here and there. He sees you in pain and there’s a slight discomfort in his chest, reminiscent of a time long gone. He sees that necklace and picture and wonders why he bothers carrying them around, still. He sees the road ahead of him and acknowledges that he’s… Just a bit lost.

What now?

“… It’s for the best I stay with you,” he says, blinks, then looks at you again, “I think.”

“You think?”

“That’s the best I can give you.” He smiles, a bit tightly, and the grimace you make in return before scoffing out a laugh tells him he must not be doing a great job at this whole thing. He gives up for now.

“Let’s find somewhere safe to stay first.”

“Anywhere is safe as long as you stay with me.”

You give him an expression of irritation that he doesn’t really understand and get up, immediately beginning to walk away. “Don’t say things like that! You’re making me hope! Shut up!”

He gets up slowly and follows you. “It’s true, though.”

“Shut up!”

[slut4thebroken]

A Pleasant Surprise

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

Pairing | Neil Lewis x reader

Summary | You’re hired to gain dirt/intel on Neil so your client can blackmail him into selling his store or something idk lol. You’re stalking him basically.

Warnings | Smut, technically non con cause voyeurism, come eating lowkey lol, stalking, overstim, masturbation, multiple orgasms, pain kink?, light cbt, pathetic & subby!Neil obvi.

Words | 1.7 k

Notes | I wrote this in like… one hour lmao.

Ao3 link | <3

Masterlist

Kinktober | day 20: CBT

“I think I’m going insane.”

Your friend laughed through the phone at your opening, then finally replied, “Why?”

“You know that guy I was hired to gain intel on?”

“Scrawny, nerdy one, right?” She asked. “Something about not selling his store?” You sighed heavily, finally taking the binoculars away from your face for a break. 

“Yeah. All he does is sit at home and watch movies, go to work, and then sometimes sit at work and watch movies… I’m so fucking bored.”

“Can you at least see the tv and watch too?”

“Yes, but it doesn’t even matter! They’re all weird, obscure films that no one has ever even heard of!” Your friend laughed again and you rolled your eyes. “Shut up— It’s not funny.” You grumbled. 

“It’s a little funny.”

“Then switch jobs with me!” You whined, despite already knowing her answer. 

“Can’t. I'm watching this rich kid who’s supposed to take over his dead dad’s business.” 

“Rich kid? Is he hot?”

“Hang on.” You heard some movement through the phone, then felt it vibrate. “Check your messages.” You obeyed and turned the phone on speaker before opening the text from her, finding a picture of one of the most beautiful men you’ve ever seen in your entire life. 

“What the hell? That’s not fair!” Your voice got even more whiny than it was before as you pouted. 

“Eh… He travels a lot for work which is annoying. And like I said, his dad just died so he’s all depressed now.”

“I’d rather have a sad fucking Greek sculpture than,” you lifted the binoculars again, but Neil was gone. “Okay- what the fuck? I swear, I took my eyes off him for less than two minutes.”

“Oh my god— please go do your job. I have to go anyway, he should be leaving the office soon.”

“Whatever.” You huffed with a pout while you searched the other windows of the house for any sign of him. “Enjoy your hottie while I’m stuck doing nothing all day.”

That made her laugh quietly. “Let’s meet up for dinner soon, okay?”

“Yeah, yeah…” You muttered playfully, unable to hide your smile. 

The call finally ended and you focused your attention on the house again. Usually if he went into the bathroom, the light was on, but the room was still dark. After waiting a few minutes, you finally saw the bedroom light flick on. Neil was bad about leaving his blinds open, but you weren’t complaining— it made your job a lot easier.

He sat down at a desk and was typing something on the computer. You couldn’t see what because he was perpendicular to the window you were watching him through, so you could only see him from the side. 

Then, after a couple minutes, his hand drifted down to his crotch. Your eyes widened as you stared at him, hoping he was just adjusting himself or something… But, no. He started palming his bulge and you practically ripped the binoculars away from your face with a blush. 

This has happened a few times over the course of your career and usually you just take it as a sign to go on a break and get food or something… However, you couldn’t help it when you slowly lifted the binoculars again, biting your lip as you watched. 

It didn’t take long for him to scramble to open his pants and take out his erection. You choked on your spit and your eyes widened again once you saw it— flushed pink and a lot bigger than you would’ve guessed. When your mouth started watering, you forced yourself to look away, but it barely took five seconds for your gaze to stay back to him. 

He was stroking himself now, his free hand using the computer mouse to most likely find a video to watch. Neil definitely wasn’t your usual type— he was too submissive and pathetic… but something about the way he was pumping his cock like a fucking horny teenager had you reaching a hand in your pants to join. You imagined him whining and whimpering, begging for pussy… Not your pussy, obviously. That would be unprofessional... 

His mouth dropped open and you wished you could hear his moans. You also wished you could hear the sound of him rapidly stroking his cock, slick with the lotion that was sitting on his desk that he used as lube. 

Your fingers worked faster on your clit, hoping to finish before the ‘show’ ended, even though you weren’t really expecting to— he didn’t exactly seem like the type to have a lot of stamina. 

Neil was presumably changing the video again, then he moved his hand down from the computer mouse to cup his balls, the sensation making him throw his head back. You watched, completely entranced, as he jerked off while playing with his balls, the visual making your cunt gush, no doubt soaking through the fabric of your panties. 

His hips were squirming and bucking off the desk chair as he reclined back into it as much as he could without falling. When his hips thrusted up again, and he almost actually fell off the chair that time, you rolled your eyes, still not even knowing how you were possibly finding anything about this man attractive… 

Despite that though, you could feel yourself getting closer to the edge already. Based on how frantic his movements were getting, you figured you wouldn’t be able to come before he finished and you were proven correct when, barely ten seconds later, he finally came. 

Ropes of come shot out of his cock, landing on his shirt, as his body twitched and writhed, riding it out. You groaned quietly in disappointment, your fingers slowing to a stop on your clit as you sighed. While Neil sat there panting and recovering, you debated just finishing early tonight and heading home so you could finally come, but you saw more movement again. 

Rather than getting up, Neil was scooping up the come from his shirt and licking it off his fingers. You raised your brows as you watched through the binoculars, trying not to laugh. After that, he took a deep breath and reached for his cock again. He wrapped his hand around it, but didn’t move yet, confusing you. 

Then he started rapidly stroking his half hard cock, faster than before, making your eyes widen in surprise. He was squirming and writhing on the chair, and his mouth was moving, but you couldn’t read his lips from the side like this. It didn’t take long for you to rejoin, your fading orgasm starting to approach again as you rubbed your clit in time with his pumps. 

With his other hand, he reached for his balls again, but he pressed his hand flat against them. You watched with morbid curiosity, wondering what he was doing, but your silent question was answered when he reeled his hand back and brought it down hard on his balls. His whole body jerked and his legs quivered with the effort of keeping them open. 

If you weren’t so fucking turned on right now, you might’ve even laughed at how pathetic he was. Instead, all you could do was moan. 

He did it again and again, but you could tell he was keeping his hits kind of light. If it were you, you’d be using a paddle…

He suddenly let go of his cock and you practically held your breath as you waited. It was twitching on his stomach, red and leaking precum from the tip. He spanked his balls again and it jerked, then he spanked his cock. He didn’t react much because it seemed like he was too scared to hit hard, but once he realized it didn’t hurt, he did it again, harder this time. Except he apparently overestimated how much force he’d be able to use and he cried out, his body doubling over. 

For a brief moment, he just trembled, then he quickly shot back up, reclining in the desk chair again… coming for the second time tonight. He instinctively started stroking his cock again, but his face scrunched up in a grimace and he immediately had to slow down because of the overstimulation, as well as the lingering pain. 

Your orgasm hit you suddenly and you bit back a groan, trying to keep your eyes on him as you came. Your hips squirmed against your fingers as you rode it out, watching his hand slow to a stop. After another moment, you finally sagged back on the rooftop, panting heavily. Neil was in a similar state; catching his breath as his sensitive, almost bright red cock gave a few weak twitches on his stomach before starting to soften. 

Once he recovered well enough, he logged out of the computer and then carefully peeled off his messy shirt, tossing it haphazardly on the floor. 

“Huh…” You muttered under your breath, taking in his pale, barely toned stomach along with his somewhat skinny, but long cock, and his pale thighs peeking out from where his pants were pushed down. He was definitely very scrawny, but he was actually more attractive than you would’ve guessed. 

Now that you were really looking at him too, he actually kind of looked like the rich kid your friend was currently stalking— just different hair, and a less neat and expensive appearance. You desperately wanted to tell her about your realization, but you knew the abrupt shift in your thoughts would be suspicious, so you decided to just wait and “coincidentally” bring it up the next time you both got drunk together— when you’d actually be able to admit to her that you got off while watching him masturbate…

Eventually, he carefully tucked his cock back in his pants, wincing at how sensitive he was, then he got up and left the room. A few seconds later, the bathroom light turned on, so you decided to just call it a night since he’d probably just be watching a movie and eating dinner before going to bed— assuming he followed the same routine he’s been doing every night for almost a week now. 

Still don’t know how to end one shots tbh

[ew-selfish-art]

Dp x Dc AU: Tim doesn’t rest, not even in Death.

It’s a heart attack that gets him, well, that and the insane amount of fear toxin flooding his system. He was dead for a full three minutes before he watches (how was he watching?) his eldest brother get his heart going again and get his unconscious body to the cave. Alfred gets him onto bat-life support and Leslie looks gravely at his family after she’s done her best to heal him. They decide to keep trying, they don’t want to believe he’s gone.

Tim watches in fury. He’s more useful than this, he’s not just going to die and let the family mourn him! Tim sets to work trying to understand what’s happened to him and he realizes he must be a ghost. Therefore, if he wants to understand ghosts he needs to go where ghosts are, and thankfully he just read a JLD doc saying to avoid Amity Park at all costs.

It’s takes him a second to get used to flying at full speed, but he finds himself surrounded by strange people in a strange town and… he notices himself becoming more visible. He’s able to interact with more and more objects, he even picked up a pencil! Poltergeist is a step forward in his plan, Tim accepts this change of pace.

Then Tim meets Danny, a normal human kid who looks like he could be brought into the manor and given a cape, who looks straight at him.

“Wait, who are you? You didn’t die in Amity did you?”

“No, I died in Gotham. I came here to understand how I’m a ghost and how I can get back to my dying body. I just need a few answers.” Tim explains, and notices that his voice isn’t his own, like it’s a different language entirely that comes out.

“Well, uh, I dunno about going back to your body but it’s not safe for you to be here. The GIW are looking for lost souls like you that people won’t notice go missing. So get back to your family and find peace. Im sorry but that’s really the best advice I have.” Danny answers.

Tim begs him for answers on the GIW. Begs him for any answers at all. Danny shrugs him off each time, tell him that he’s just a ghost and he needs to move on before he gets hurt or becomes a problem.

Tim decides if he’s a problem, he’ll probably get more answers.

Soon enough, he’s stepping into the end of a battle where Phantom is getting Skulker into a thermos, and demands answers, and if not answers help.

They brawl, and Tim’s training as Red Robin gets him farther than a lot of ghosts. And then, when he knows he’s beat and he’s about to share thermos space with the robot jackass (who he can interrogate and then build his own robot) Tim realizes something.

“You’re still alive, aren’t you? You’re Danny, black hair and blue eyes.” Tim says and suddenly Phantom is as still as the dead despite the accusation.

“How the fuck- dude. Okay, you know what? Fine. Lets go talk, you’re clearly not giving up and I need you to never say that shit out loud ever again.”

Because blackmail works in life for Tim, blackmail also apparently works in death.

He’s given all of the info they have on the GIW, he’s introduced to ghost technology and how it works with ectoplasm. He’s told about the portal (although they refuse to sneak him into the house to see it- he can handle a few lasers, ugh) and he’s told about the general sequence of events in Danny’s life/death.

And then Tim is suddenly back in his body in Gotham.

The family found a way to bring him back and he’s 100% alive, no longer ghostly, but he retained all his memories.

“We have a war against the government to start” are not the first words his family expected to hear from Tim post death.

[xmalereader]

Simon Riley x Hybrid! Male Reader

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|| Masterlist ||

—

Authors Note: I’m back! I want to start off by saying thank you everyone for being patient with me and for 8k followers! I know this shot isn’t long and pretty short, but I will be working on more soon. Unfortunately, at this time I am in my Hybrid era phase for some reason ( ◠‿◠ ) sooo don’t judge me. Also the beautiful artwork below belongs to @ave661 all credit goes to them please follow them because their work is amazing!

Summary: Simon finally gets to retire and get the peace that he finally needs in life, only for Laswell to convince him to take home a hybrid companion back home as company.

Warnings: Fluff, simple plot, hybrid dog reader, Simon is a softy, nightmares, mentions of service dog, military, history, short story, animal features and characteristics.

Word Count: 1.3K

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Simon wasn’t one for retirement.

His whole life he thought that he would be protecting people until the day that he is shot dead in the field.

Only to end up retiring.

He wasn’t retiring because of his age, no. He was retiring for being tired of having to see so much pain and bloodshed, seeing it when he was only a child and going into adulthood something that he never stopped hearing or seeing in his life. He reached a point where he no longer wanted to deal with this blood shed and finally be able to sit back without having to worry about someone trying to kill him.

When Simon made the decision of leaving the special forces he knew it was the right choice that he ended up surprising Price. The same man that he met when he first joined the military, befriending the older man and trusting him with his life. He expected Price to reject his retirement request only for the man to give him his approval on the spot, knowing Simon well enough to know that he needed this break. This peace in his life.

When news spread that ‘Ghost’ was officially retiring it shocked the whole base to know that the most dangerous and intimidating man that the know will be leaving his military life behind for something normal. Price had helped him find a remote place for him to stay in the meantime until he decided to either leave and find somewhere else to call home or perhaps stay at the small house that Price was able to find him.

Simon thought that it would be an easy start until Laswell recommended that he get himself a ‘service dog’ or a ‘companion’ to keep him company. He was against the idea of having someone or something living in the same place as him and so soon, but Laswell had insisted to give it a try in order to have some company around in case he ever felt too isolated from society. Which he later caves into Laswells offer and agrees to have a companion of his own.

Simon expected someone that Laswell and Price knew that had the balls to stay with him until he got adjusted to having a normal life, only to come face to face with a very rare and calm German Shepherd Hybrid.

Simon had heard about Hybrids co existing with society, living their lives hiding from the others due to them being so different from others. It wasn’t until laws were established back in 2010 for Hybrids to be able to live a life like humans; getting jobs, owning homes and property along with getting an education. That didn’t mean that they were entirely free.

Hybrids still had their own set of strict rules. Any hybrid who showed signs of aggression towards a human would be locked away, still keeping them in check for years knowing that they didn’t have total control of their own biology, but after years the laws changed either getting harsher or lighter for them to cope with, reaching a point where hybrids were reaching extinction.

Many were taken, sold to black markets, slavery, or even used for their unique features caused many to go into hiding again or to slowly die off. Very few were protected, but in the end they all died.

The hybrid that Simon took with him wasn’t like the ones that he would see in public.

He was quiet and respectful of his boundaries, never doing anything that Simon didn’t like. He was technically a ‘service dog’ from what Laswell said, trained by her own special team and her wife in order to have Y/n help soldiers with trauma or perhaps those who feared being alone and in need of a friend.

Expect Simons situation was different, Y/n wasn’t just there to keep him company for a short period of time. Instead he was their permanently.

It took Simon some time to adjust to the hybrids existence whenever he woke up in the mornings only to come downstairs to see the hybrid cooking him breakfast other times he would find him outside tending to the ruined gardens, keeping himself busy while Simon focused on his own thing.

The two didn’t really converse with each other until two months into living together. It was the night that Y/n was woken up by the sound of Simons thrashing and heavy breathing that alerted him to rush into Simon’s room. He can smell the sweat and anxiety off of him along with hearing his soft murmurs, clearly showing signs of a nightmare.

When Y/n first met Simon he promised the man that he wouldn’t do anything he didn’t like and kept well to his promise until now. His own instincts were going off and couldn’t stand to the side and watch the man deal with his nightmare. So, he did the only thing he knew what to do.

Y/n had crawled into Simons bed, lying down in the empty spot next to him and moving himself closer to the bigger man, head against his chest as his ears lower in worry when he hears how fast his heart is beating. “Simon…” He whispers in a soft tone, glancing up at the man in distraught. “I’m here Simon, you’re not alone.” He adds on, keeping his head against his chest while his tail brushed up against his hip, causing a small gasp to escape his lips when he feels Simons hand take hold of his tail in his sleep. The soft fur on his tail quickly relaxing the man as his heavy breathing decreases.

The hybrid ears perk up as he listens to his heart beat, hearing it slow down to a proper rate. He stays in this position for the rest of the night without another nightmare occurring.

When Simon woke up that morning he was shocked to find Y/n in bed with him, curled up close to his chest. The warmth of the others mans body heat brings him a sense of comfort, instead of getting out of bed and waking up the hybrid he instead stays in bed a little longer, watching the other man sleep against him.

Simon hated the idea of having company for his first few weeks of retirement, but after getting used to Y/n’s presences in his life their are current things that Simon had grown adjusted to in his every day life. The smell of breakfast being made every morning by the hybrid became a familiar routine, finding the man on his hands and knees while he tends to the backyard digging up a few holes in order to plant new flowers or perhaps some fruit.

Simon favorite part of their day together was sitting outside on the porch as they watched the horizon. Simon would notice the way that Y/n’s ears would twitch as he listens to his surroundings taking in the familiar noise that he hears every morning. The way that his tail would wag whenever he sees kids running down the street with their bikes or scooters in hand, hearing as they would argue with each other and laugh.

The image alone brought a small smile to Simons lips.

Their bonded deepened with time to the point that the two were having regular day to day conversations. Y/n was no longer the closed off and shy hybrid that would be cautious when speaking with Simon and instead became someone who wasn’t afraid to speak up for himself or to be selfish every once an while.

Simon could say that he was grateful for Laswell convincing him to bring Y/n into his life, having him as a company whenever he came home or when the two would go out to run some simple errands, granting Simon the domestic life that he craved for whenever he was on missions and he finally has it

[help-itrappedmyself]

Dead On Main part 7

Masterpost

dedicated to @cervinebotanist and @leafyeyes417 for responding so quickly and with such enthusiasm to part 6. Thank you for the encouragement and support.

Danny takes a deep breath. He can hear scrambling from somewhere else in the car, but he can’t pay attention to what’s happening as he focuses inward. He closes his eyes, and reaches inside himself.

Jason has a tiny baby core! Danny almost coos at it, but it’s so underdeveloped that he’s sad instead. Danny can feel ectoplasm in himself, in Jason’s body. But it isn’t enough. This ectoplasm has been reused, reduced, recycled one too many times. It’s got barely enough to stay alive left in it. Jason is mostly being sustained by his human half right now. It feels like play-doh that turns to dust where it should stretch, dried-out and old. It makes him even more sad. And slightly ill. But the sadness makes the rioting ectoplasm calm back down inside him.

Danny opens his eyes. He’s slightly disoriented, but calm now, eyes no longer glowing. They had stopped the car. He looks at Tim, who is leaning against his door and braced against it and Dick’s chair, giving Danny as much space as possible. His hand is almost on the door handle and his tablet on the floor. Dick and Bruce are exchanging panicked looks in the front seat, both now unbuckled for some reason and completely turned to face the backseat.

“Hey, speaking of ectoplasm, this body really needs some.” Danny informs them. “If it doesn’t get some new ectoplasm soon his core is going to cease functioning, and that would be really bad, and possibly irreversible.” 

“Uhhh.” Dick’s panicked look is turning straight to confusion, as is everyone else’s. “What?” 

“I didn’t realize that Jason was, I mean he had mentioned he died, but he- well, I guess I didn’t want to talk about it over the phone either. Does make it easier to talk about since we’re the same, but of course we couldn’t have known yet. But his core needs some help, do you not have access to ectoplasm back home?” Danny is rambling, brain spinning at the thought of how much he and Jason have in common. This big thing that no one else would truly understand by each other. And Vlad, sort of, but nobody likes Vlad. “It’s amazing that we ended up soulmates. He’s only the third person in the world I’ve even heard about with this condition. How long has he been without ectoplasm? Is he having trouble finding any, or does he not know he needs it? Either way, I’m giving him some as soon as possible.” Danny doesn’t know whether he should freak out over that fact that his soulmate is as dead as he is, that he’s currently dying from lack of ecto, or that his soulmate’s entire family is probably going to end up learning about him and ghosts, or the fact that he is currently taking another body that the GIW is going to want to study straight to them. All of these things seem like great reasons to freak out on their own, so all together he is just panicking.

Danny doesn’t seem to be able to breathe. 

“Hey, come on, that’s fine, you can totally give Jason some… ectoplasm.” Dick says.

“Danny, you have to breathe, okay.” Tim is much calmer than Dick, so Danny focuses on him as Bruce and Dick whisper in the front. “Danny, match my breathing.” Danny stares at Tim, who is making very exaggerated breathing movements, and tries to time his breathing to match. “We’ll figure everything out, but we don’t need to do it right now.” Tim is still helping Danny, talking calmly, but he says this with enough force to distract the two in the front seat enough for them to shut up for a second. Danny appreciates the bit of silence.

“You need to start driving.” Danny, tells Bruce. “Right now, his human half is sustaining the rest of him almost entirely. If Jason doesn’t get more ecto soon, his other half will die, and I’m not sure what will happen to his human side if that happens. He may die again completely.”

There’s a beat of silence in the car. Bruce stares right into Danny’s eyes.

“You are saying there is an active threat to my son’s life, ” Bruce asks, voice hard. 

Danny nods. Then everyone is buckled back in and Bruce is pulling them back onto the road. 

“You know what’s happening and how to help him?” Bruce asks, voice steady but Danny can sense all the emotion underneath. Bruce is really worried right now, he looks around the car and realizes that Dick and Tim are as well. They both have phones out, but are tense, tuned into his conversation with Bruce.

“Yeah, It’s a simple enough fix, I’m just worried because he’s really…” Danny takes a moment to think of the right word. “Ecto deficient? His core is definitely malnourished, and his body and mind definitely need it. They are being sustained with human stuff for now, but eventually that won’t be enough.” 

“How urgent is this?”

Danny feels for Jason’s core, feeling like he’s invading his privacy, but without other options to check. It’s not cracked, but it’s not fully formed either. Half starved baby core, not even strong enough to present. Its link to an obsession is strong, but frayed enough that Danny can’t tell what it is. The core is not strong enough to produce it’s own ecto, even in response to the obsession being fulfilled. Everything is stable, but strained.

“I’m not an expert, but he’s sustained himself this long. And we’re already on the way. We should be fine, but I’ll keep an eye on it just in case.”