#maybe he was buried with it and drug it out if his grave with him

[rawrsatthetree]

I can’t stop thinking about Astarion’s ratty ass blankie that he has at every camp and even on his bed at Elfsong.

[juchily]

Yellowjackets S3 Ep2 thoughts

spoilers below ⚠️

I'm laughing my fucking ass off, Mari's scared for her life screaming like an NPC and Ben is talking like a coach again... Honestly this has convinced me maybe Ben didn't set the fire (although before now I also have liked the theory other Tai did it, this just solidifies it a bit for me)

The switch from Ben yelling push to Mari and Shauna digging up her dead baby to hold him... Oh I'm crying. HE WASNT THERE WHEN SHE NEEDED TO BE TOLD TO PUSH AND NOW HES THERE TO TELL MARI! AGGH

Shauna burying her baby in a different place, rejecting the miracle and occult ideas of the wilderness the other girls have come to welcome

Misty the simp of all time

Taivan going to but "not going with them" lol they know Misty's just going to be trying to get comfy with Nat the whole time

Van's arms, that's it

Lottie's being problematic about inducing drug psychosis... Who would have guessed

Shauna actually saying something good about her family for once. Damn who knew all it took was for your kid to commit assault for you to start actually loving them

SIX WEEKS, HOW THE HELL IS LOTTIE OUT TF, I can't complain I guess

Lottie they were cruel af for calling psych on you (it's logical but coming from the YELLOWJACKETS it's just hypocritical) but those crocodile tears... The definition of grown ass puppy eyes. She sniffles!

Callie already ride and die for Lottie... Did she forget she SHOT her... Oh wait, I forgot that's literally Callie's dad obv she's ride or die 🤗

Jeff checking to make sure Lottie leaves to the porch before speaking his mind HAH

Van's got some PIPES, Taivan freaky once again everyone 👏

Walter and Misty are so simp4simp except Walter is the one person Misty won't simp for... She's digging her nose into that jacket and springing to attention AS SOON as Shauna calls... Walter can't believe this girl

wtf is up with Walter in that scene where Misty is talking to him. Dude looks like he's grieving, in depression, and scheming all at once I don't even know

Oh yeah Crystal, they didn't have a grave for her either (or mention her) on top of Laura Lee last episode (and before you talk about that theory that she doesn't exist, I'm pretty sure that's easily ruled out as not being possible)

Nat does not wanna talk to Misty... And she sure as hell is trying hard to hate Ben/look like she hates Ben... My Nat and Coach Ben friendship... I'm mourning

Callie's more afraid of Misty than Lottie (valid??) but this is hilarious she's immediately freaked out the contrast is insane

Nat sees the trap (Ben's) and tries to hide it, so obviously she doesn't actually want the girls to know/think he's alive, im wondering if she's found his traps before or not. Maybe she hasn't and that's another reason she gets super surprised

Anyways more Mistynat 😭😭😭 Nat's horrible at lying...

HOLY FUCK VAN'S ARMS 🙇🙇🙇

Wtf are lottie and Travis doing... Lottie stop feeding his psychosis baby 🙏

Lottie is sooo insane this season

Misty is absolutely failing at babysitting Lottie and Callie. Callie wants to get them drunk enough to talk sooo bad. Lottie IS the father

Mari and Ben team up?

Uh I just ate my words.

Anyways

A NOOSE??? Mari is not having a fun time, damn... She's catching Ls left and right

Now who was that in the bathroom???

These start up bros are super weird... And Shauna's catching them on their shit

They have ducks and bunnies 😵‍💫 absolute art

His name is Mortimer? His name is Mortimer!

Oh Travis deserves so much better my baby ❤️❤️

LOTTIE DONT, he needs a wilderness restraining order on her fr...

Why does Lottie make Travis the test dummy for this "communication"?? I'm interested because she isn't acting like this to any of the others, not even Nat (who sort of has the blessing of the wilderness)

Oh well Akilah is NOT safe now...

I KNEW IT! MISTY'S PLAYING THE CARDS IN HER FAVOUR TO GET ATTENTION. Shauna still doesn't like her though lol

Oh my Lord forget the Caligula dance number they FILMED THIS for a tv segment for the TV show...

Question is, what did Lottie spill to Callie while Misty was out cold?

Callie braiding Lotties hair <3

Misty just wants to have toxic one-sided codependent friendships Walter, what's so wrong about that? 🙄

Well Ben might be a bit insane

Ooo who laid flowers at wilderness baby's new grave?

Oh, well Melissa with her stupid ass boy shorts and that pretty crop top, she's so pretty 😍 her poor hat's gone MIA though

I'm gay, Melissa's gay, Shauna's a girl kisser

Shaunahat has to be one of the most interesting things i have ever seen

Oh they're freaky alright WITH THE KNIFE AT THE NECK STILL

Ending thoughts:

Want more Laura Lee... obviously I'm a sucker for Jane Widdop I would love to see them back on the show for flashbacks, but overall just an acknowledgment of Laura Lee this season ❤️

Is Ben insane? Is he hallucinating or actually talking to someone and we just can't see/hear them?

Wtf is up with teen Lottie?

What is going to happen with Callie regarding the Yellowjackets and the Wilderness?

I'm still manifesting a pig blood orgy like those mean highschool girls 🤷

More Shaunahat honestly 😈 , would love to see more teen Taivan

I don't think Akilah is going to be safe anymore after this episode since Travis just put Lottie on her.

[indestructiblelittlefuckers]

@vocesofmd (continued)

It wasn't that Edward hadn't tried. Once he felt well enough to actually move around, he tried to fix the cottage. He tried to just accept that Izzy was gone and that he would have to just move on. But how could he? It was like the grief was pulling him down, to the ground, an unbearable weight on his shoulders. It would kill him and if he wanted to be honest with himself, he wanted it to kill him. Before he dragged Stede down with him. Stede... he didn't seem to be dealing with this any better — Ed saw him, almost every night to sit by Izzy's grave and talk to him, when Ed refused to even acknowledge that he had been there at all. And when one night he came back to bed crying because probably an animal had disturbed the grave, Ed knew they couldn't stay. They couldn't just move on either.

Ricky would come back to the Republic eventually, and they had to be ready. Only the wait made Ed get lost in his head too much and for once again he found solace in drinking and drugs. He had several ideas about their revenge plans, but one day, just like that the thought was pushed away. Ed had just too many ideas about what to do with their lives to think about that. The Inn seemed boring, fishing was something he wasn't that good at, but he could make clothes, couldn't he? He made made his own leather jacket, after all, and it was fun doing that, so he could be a tailor... a leather tailor. Now that was a business idea, wasn't it? They'd open a shop with leather outfits, or at least one that matched Ed's beloved style. Blackbeard's style. Follow the trend. Merchandise. Or whatever Frenchie had called it. Frenchie! He could be of help, he was good at these things and he had to find him, so he asked the fishermen to let him know when Revenge returned to Nassau. What if they combined a outfit shop with alcohol? Mixed drinks and trying outfits, now that sounded even more fun?

Stede barely seemed to follow Ed and his ideas, but he didn't protest much. He had been drinking too, so maybe Ed's mixed drinks idea would work perfectly. He had been looking for a good rum deal at the market when he saw something... someone that made him freeze. It had been as if he had been high, dancing, having fun when suddenly he was sober. Almost as if he was in a trance, Ed walked to the man, his hand on his shoulder to make him turn around.

It was Izzy. ❝Izzy?❞ Ed grinned and let out a small sigh in relief... before reality kicked. It could not be Izzy, could it? That man had died. In his arms. They had all buried him, sobbing. Was he really losing his mind? Had he drunk too much? But why wouldn't his mind recreate the same image Ed held of him? Why give him this new look? ❝How... Are you real? ❞

[starstruckunknown-princess]

Forget-me-not - Eddie Munson x Reader

Forget-me-not (Myosotis) - Meaning: Don't forget me, remembrance

Summary: Reader visits Eddie's grave. Little does she know what awaits her there.

Pairing: Eddie Munson x Reader

Word Count: 958

Warnings: Drug use (reader smokes weed), ANGST (with a happy-ish ending), dead!Eddie, Reader was part of ST4 events, cemetery setting, Vampire!Eddie, blood

Day 17 is another angsty one but I think it ends on a positive note. I love Eddie, and I fully believe the Cas storyline is what we'll see in season 5 cuz there's no freakin way I will just forget about this sweet metalhead, you hear me Duffers??

In Bloom Masterlist

Likes, Comments, Reblogs are SUPER appreciated! ❤️

You held your breath for as long as you could, feeling the smoke invade your lungs before sputtering it loose. The smoke filled the inside of your shitty beater car. You knew you’d reek of it for the rest of the day but you didn’t care. 

You hadn’t cared about much for the last few months. Not since Eddie died. 

Taking another hit, you glanced over at your passenger seat. A bundle of fresh cut flowers — white daisies, the flowers Eddie had brought you on your first date because he heard they were your favorite. A pang of sadness hit you right in the gut, like a punch and you blew out the smoke, feeling the calming effect of the weed. 

You’d only been here a few times since the funeral. It was difficult to bring yourself here, to stand where his uncle had buried an empty coffin and pretend Eddie was down there instead of stuck in the hellish landscape that was the Upside-Down. 

God, everything was so fucked up. 

The whole town was convinced he was a bloodthirsty maniac who deserved what he got. Only you, Wayne, and Hellfire club knew him for what he’d been. A sweet, brave, incredible guy who lived in his imagination because reality was difficult. 

He’d called you ‘princess’ and ‘love’ and drove you to and from school every day in his van, holding your hand the whole way there. He planted kisses on your cheeks when you passed in the halls and wrote you little love notes that he snuck between the pages of your notebook or textbooks so you’d find them later. 

He’d been so gentle when he took your virginity (after having listened to your long-winded feminist rant about how virginity was a “bullshit patriarchal concept”). Every touch and sigh and moan etched on your memory forever. Afterward, he cleaned you up and wrapped you in his lanky arms and told you he loved you for the first time, his big doe eyes shining in the dim light of his room. 

You’d been so incredibly, irrevocably in love with him. And he was gone. 

If you didn’t get out of the car now, you never would, so you stubbed out your blunt and grabbed the flowers and got out. The cemetery was quiet, despite being next to a busy highway. It was early evening, the sun hanging low in the sky and casting everything in an orange glow. Walking through the rows and rows of headstones until you found the familiar name. 

‘Edward Munson’

‘Now at Peace’

Except that wasn’t the truth. His body was rotting in another dimension, probably torn to shreds and completely unrecognizable by now. 

“Hey, love,” you said to the chunk of granite. “I brought daisies.” You crouched, laying the bouquet in front of the headstone before plucking out a few longer blades of grass that threatened to obscure his name. 

You sat down in front of it, not really sure what to do. Talk to him? Cry? Another long feminist rant about how you hated the idea of marriage but how you would’ve married him in a heartbeat? 

Because you would’ve. 

“I’m sorry, baby,” you said, absentmindedly picking at the grass around you. “I should’ve gone with you and Dustin. I could have dragged you back so at least you’d be here and not there. If I’d been there, you’d be home. Or maybe you…” you trailed off with a long sigh. “It’s no use living in the past, is it? Except that’s where you are, it’s the only place you are right now and I can’t — how do I keep going on without you? I just want to hear you laugh again, Eddie. Feel your arms around me one more time…” 

Tears spilled down your cheeks. The gaping wound in your chest reopened and you doubled over, letting yourself sob. You cried until the sun disappeared, at some point laying down on your side in the fetal position. 

At some point you must’ve fallen asleep, because you woke up sometime later to a brush against your cheek. Your eyes fluttered open and you shivered in the chilly night air as you sat up, looking around. You had the strange feeling you weren’t alone. 

The sound of leaves rustling behind you made you turn, and you choked on your gasp. 

Sitting on top of his own headstone, looking a little worse for wear but still beautiful, was Eddie. His clothes were torn, but free of blood. His curls were frizzing out under his bandana, and his rings glinted in the moonlight. 

He looked up at you from under his brow and smiled wickedly, “Hello, princess.” 

You scrambled toward him, a fresh wave of tears falling down your cheeks. Eddie met you in the middle, kneeling in front of his headstone and welcoming you into his embrace which you dove into, clutching his leather jacket and burying your face in his neck. 

“Shh, princess, I’m here,” he muttered soothingly. Placing kisses from your cheek down to your neck, you barely registered a pinching pain from his teeth. He groaned. “Ohh, you taste so good. Missed you so much, so sweet for me…”

You sniffled and pulled back from him to look him in the eyes — his big brown eyes that you swore you could drown in — but your gaze was drawn down to his chin, covered in something that made it dark. With a shaking hand, you reached up and traced his lower lip, gathering some of the substance. 

Blood.

You looked back at Eddie, who was still holding you and gazing down at you like he always had. Full of love, hope, all-encompassing joy. 

And then he smiled, revealing two long, razor-sharp fangs.

[miscellaneoussmp]

I miss my beloved cubito, aka happy pills Pac, so here's a fic! It's been a year, come back to me!!!!!!!!! (cw/tw: character death implied/mentioned, medical terminology, mentioned drug abuse).

This isn't the first time Pac has dug a grave. It won't be the last. At least it's not raining. At least he's wearing his own clothes. At least the blood in the room is his. At least there aren't bodies from him to cry over. Maybe that's worse?

His heart rate is rapid. Pac feels like he can feel his heart touch his ribs. Tachycardia caused by the pills? Maybe the withdrawals? His breathing is shallow. It's a cycle. The quicker his heart beat, the less time his lungs have to switch out carbon dioxide for oxygen. Pac bets if checked his blood pressure, it would be way higher than 120/80. That's why he feels like he's going to die. Or maybe it's the pills? Who could say? Maybe Pac needs to go to the doctor?

What is he doing? He looks down at the crudely dug hole. What is doing in the lab? What was he doing before this? One of the lab tables looks messier than usual, even in the dim room. Right. His notes. The cure. A possible cure. Pac isn't that good at chemistry or medicine. He isn't even really a scientist. He just pretends to know what he's doing. It worked well enough raising himself and Mike. There's a reason why Mike is (was?) better than him in every way conceivable way. It's because he stopped listening to Pac before it was too late. He wonders how long it'll take before everyone else stops listening. He hopes it's soon. There's crumbled up paper in his hands. Right, notes. Focus.

It's definitely worse not having a body to bury. There's nothing to cry over. An empty grave feels worse. Pac isn't even able to leave the lab to go look for the bodies of his best friend, his child, and one of his newest friends. Why is he in the lab? An antidote. Right.

Tachycardia has many reasons to happen. The heart doesn't need the brain to tell it to continue beating. It has its own nervous system, basically. The heart will keep the blood moving for as long as it can. Shortness of breath often goes hand in hand with tachycardia. The lungs try to keep up with the heart to perform gas exchange. There's many causes for high blood pressure, too. Ranging from genetics to diet to medication side effects. What is he doing again? There's blisters forming where his grip was tightest on the shovel. Pac is in the lab. Notes. An antidote. A cure. Right.

There's a black liquid in one of the bottles. It's bad lab practice, but he reaches for it, to drink. Pac stops. He can't do this. He can't. He wants the artificial euphoria. Pac can't face reality. He can't. What is reality if not something Pac can manipulate to his benefit? His reality. He drains the black liquid down the sink, washing it away with cool water. For a brief second, he thinks about trying to consume the small remainder of the antidote. That thought is chased away with the taste of plastic and artificial sweetners in little white capsules.

[frog-necromancer]

Betting on a Losing Dog

Masterlist

Read on Ao3

Chapter 5: A barking dog seldom bites

Logan/fem!Reader

Summary: Putting the fun in funeral (not) This chapter is mostly angst...sorry...it's also a little short.

Chapter 1 / 2 / 3 / 4 / 5 / 6 / 7

Tags:

#drug abuse and addiction #swearing #angst #anger issues #main character death (it’s Logan sorry babes) #fluff and smut #kissing #alcohol abuse  #graphic description of violence and injuries #heavy angst #biting #thigh riding #oral (f receiving) #p in v sex #unprotected sex (wrap it up)  #attempt at humor #spending time as a family #intrusive thoughts #some gore #hurt no comfort (maybe a little comfort) #found family #marriage!?!! #self harm (skin picking) #throwing up #depression  #smoking #references to Christianity and religion #video game references #road trip

A barking dog seldom bites

Logan had never seen her like this, an empty shell of the woman he knew. The woman he loved. Panicked eyes were frantically searching for him and Laura at any given moment, at any unusual sound or shudder of the car. 

How she looked at them as if they would disappear any second.

How she was clutching Charles' lifeless body to her chest, holding him as if he was merely sleeping, taking one of his little old man naps in the backseat of the car.

But his skin was cold, his limbs already stiff and rigid with rigor mortis. 

—

Morning came and they were still driving. Laura was silently staring out of the open car window, sunglasses hiding her eyes. Her face seemed to be set in stone, serious and unreadable. 

F/N was a bundle of nerves but even adrenaline could only keep you going for so long. Logan coughed, a cough that didn't seem to go away. Yet another thing to worry about.

“We have to bury him”, F/N finally spoke, bloodshot E/C eyes staring at Logan through the back mirror, her hands still cradling the professor's form. Logan was silent for a moment, gripping the steering wheel tighter until his still bloody knuckles turned white. 

He knew she was right but it felt so incredibly wrong. This wasn't supposed to happen. Not ever. Charles wasn't supposed to die and he sure as shit wasn't supposed to be buried in the middle of fucking nowhere. He belonged with the other X-men. With his family and loved ones. 

His grave should have been next to Erik's… side by side forever. (Old men Yaoi my beloved)

If they buried him, Logan would have to say goodbye. He would have to accept his death for good. He would have to accept that Charles Xavier, the man that had saved him so many years ago, his friend, was never coming back. That he was truly gone.

“Yeah��� Logan finally got out, knowing that if he'd try to even utter one more word, he wouldn't be able to hold back the tears. He didn't dare look at F/N or Charles, his eyes focused ahead on the dusty road.

—

It didn't take long for them to find a suitable resting place for their friend and mentor. A nice grassy spot between high trees, not far from a beautiful lake. Fog lingered in the cold air. A fresh and calm morning. But none of them could appreciate its beauty at the moment. 

Logan began to dig. And with each shovel of earth he threw to the side, the dread grew, eating each of them alive.

F/N wasn't even sure where he'd gotten the shovel from. The last couple of hours were a blur, she darkly recalled that Logan had stopped at some farm a couple of hours ago. When it was still dark, and Charles’ flesh still warm. 

He was silent as he dug his friend's grave, a million thoughts screaming in his mind, voices he couldn't seem to shut down. Jean. Scott. Ororo, Hank, Kurt, Morph… the list went on. His occasional cough was the only thing keeping him from disappearing into his mind completely, giving into the voices.

He wiped the sweat from his brow, glancing at F/N and Laura who were sitting on a rock nearby, watching him. Laura was listening to music, she must have taken the boy’s mp3 player. He couldn't see the girl's eyes but he could see F/N's. Empty and sad was how he'd describe them. He felt the same. And for a moment he thought he was digging his own grave.

F/N watched Logan, not caring that he saw her staring. Her eyes on his bloody white shirt between his blue button up. Muscles flexing as he moved the shovel. Her gaze wandered to Charles, body and face mostly covered by the blanket  Kathryn had given her. They had only travelled together for a couple of days and yet it felt like months had passed. 

—

Birds were singing and a gentle breeze carried the smell of pine, earthy and rich. The light was soft, the sky covered by light gray clouds and for a moment the gentle murmur of the wind brushing through the leaves seemed to quieten down. 

It was still early in the morning when Logan and F/N lowered Charles into the ground.

“Erik is waiting for you. Rest well…Professor…” F/N’s cracked lip quivered, E/C eyes filled with unshed tears. She wanted to say more…to say how much she'd miss him but the words were stuck in her dry throat.

Logan could tell that she didn't want to let go of him, reluctantly, pulling her shaking hand away from the lifeless body. Logan was glad, when F/N closed his jacket, hiding the three puncture wounds and most of the blood, still he knew they were there. He could smell the blood and the beginning of decay on him.

He hadn't killed Charles but it sure felt like he had. Like his own claws had pierced his chest, like his blood stained his blue shirt. Because it did.

F/N continued to carefully adjust his position and clothes, but hesitated when she felt something in the front pocket of his pants. The bent edge of a photograph was peeking out from the mess of fabric and blood. With shaking hands F/N reached for it, feeling like throwing up yet again when she stared into the faces of who she'd begun to call her family in the quietness of her mind. They were smiling. Happy forever on a dirty picture.

So much had happened, F/N had almost forgotten about their little adventure at the dinosaur park. A tear hit the crumbled paper, mixing with dried blood. She gently pressed it into Charles' cold hands, bending his fingers carefully around the picture, smearing blood over their faces in the process. She couldn't help it, her hands were shaking as she stepped back.

The morning light threw soft shadows on Charles face and yet he didn't look peaceful. He looked as if he was in pain, his expression a mask of fear and confusion, frozen in his flesh until it decayed and worms writhed through his skull. F/N thought, and she would never admit it, but she was glad when the crumbled earth finally covered his face. Hiding it from the world. 

Hiding how they had failed him. 

Logan was still holding the shovel F/N was next to him, gazing into the distance, where the lake shimmered in the gentle light. Laura stepped next to the pair, removing her earbuds, she was still wearing her sunglasses.

The sound of a zipper could be heard, it was Laura's backpack F/N noted. Laura rummaged through the bag, until she found what she was looking for.

Wordlessly she placed the velociraptor plushie on Charles’ still chest. 

–

“Well…It's got water, and…” Logan got out, voice rough and on the verge of breaking. His hands were shaking. 

F/N didn't reach out.

But Laura did.

The girl reached for his arm, fingers encasing his dirty elbow just above his blood stained fist. Laura's own knuckles bloody as she held onto him, her father.

Logan gulped, lump in his scratchy throat as he tried again: “It's got water...” his voice finally broke, a pained huff leaving his stinging lips, breathing uneven and shaky.

F/N lunged forward retching, her meager stomach's content splattered onto the grassy forest floor. It must have been the food Kathryn had cooked for them just yesterday. Only a few hours ago.The thought alone made Logan want to throw up too.

He didn't look at her but from the corner of his eyes he could see her wipe her mouth with her sleeve. He wanted to make sure she was okay, to hold her hand, but he knew that if he said anything right now, it would come out too harsh. He felt incredibly angry all of a sudden. Angry at himself and angry at the world.

With an irritated grunt he stabbed the shovel into the ground.

“Fuck this…”, he muttered, limping in the direction of the car: “Fuck this…”

F/N didn't follow him immediately, watching him stomp away between the trees. She felt a small hand reach for hers, giving it the softest of squeezes.

—

Reluctantly F/N went after him, making sure Laura stayed close behind her. They stopped at the tree line.

Only now did she realise how ravaged and bloody Logan still was from the fight with his clone. His face and shirt were covered in still wet blood that was oozing from his slowly closing gashes. She didn't even want to imagine what lay beneath his torn tank top, the former white material now covered in brown and red spots. 

Logan stumbled to the equally ravaged pick-up truck. He grunted something that sounded a little like “Come on!” as he tossed the shovel into the back. 

They didn't move, silently watching him as he got into the truck, but he was having trouble turning it over. He cursed, a colorful string of profanities, he was frustrated and F/N knew better than to try to calm him now. He needed to get it out.

He got out again and limped to open up the hood. Metal creaked and faintly F/N could hear a dog barking in the distance, Laura seemed to notice it too as she looked across the landscape, but F/N was too busy watching Logan. His rage was reasonable, his pain written all over his sickly pale face and if she didn't feel like throwing up again she would have maybe joined his violent outburst as he started to beat the poor vehicle with the shovel, leaving deep dents in the metal. 

F/N was about to say something to try to calm him, when he collapsed on the hard asphalt.

He was out cold.

She let out a breath she hadn't realised she was holding.

—

She didn't like the thought of stealing some innocent fisherman's car but the situation didn't allow for such luxury. 

They found their way to the nearest town, the car was old, white and turquoise and smelled faintly of fish. 

F/N drove, she hadn't touched a wheel in months. Her mind was too hazy and her hands too shaky.

They got Logan to a local doctor, an urgent care walk-in clinic. He was a kind older man, who took them in without question as he saw them. As he saw the little girl, covered in blood and grime. 

He must have taken pity on them, F/N thought. But she was grateful.

It gave her a moment to lick her own wounds, to take a deep breath and to think. The doctor helped her, making sure none of the cuts were too deep and removing glass that had been stuck in her flesh as well as fixing the pulled stitches on her side. It would leave a scar, but she didn't mind. It would always remind her of Logan. The Doctor still didn't ask any questions, for which F/N was thankful. She had the creeping suspicion that he knew what they were. 

—

F/N sat with Laura in the waiting area, the girl had her earbuds in, listening to music as she rested her head against the window behind her. The glass was cold and against her skin. It was somewhat of a grounding feeling. She had never been this tired in her whole life, she thought.

—

F/N opened her eyes when she heard Logan's voice, she must have nodded off, for how long she wasn't sure. She blinked, away the sleep, Logan was arguing with the doctor, he was offering his help to them but Logan declined and she couldn't blame him. If they accepted this innocent man's help he'd surely be dead within a couple of days. Just like the Munsons.

Logan coughed, gesturing to them, he was nursing a headache. Worse than any hangover he'd ever had: “Let's go” Not bothering to wait he rushed out of the clinic, still limping heavily. Laura was close behind him, car keys in hand. F/N sighed softly before slowly getting to her feet, body aching. She followed them outside, the door closing behind her with a quiet click. 

It was clear that Logan was a little disoriented, he found himself on the main street of what looked like a small town, cars honking in the distance. Finally he turned around to see F/N, but he didn't say anything, he didn't need to. 

He was glad that she was alright.

Laura ignored his barks as she made her way over the street and to the car they’d stolen. F/N placed her hand on his shoulder silently, a reassuring gesture, but he wordlessly shrugged it off. F/N didn't feel offended.

Logan hurried after Laura, the limp still prominent in his steps. She  got into the car, climbing on the passenger's seat with Logan close behind her. It was clear that the girl was pissed off and Logan wasn't off much better. This couldn’t end well.

He took a disapproving look at the car. “You can't just take shit, you know”, he muttered, but got into the driver's seat anyway. Meanwhile Laura was making a point by activity not looking at him or F/N. Avoiding their gazes at all costs, eyes fierce.

F/N had found her place in the back of the car, tiredly resting her head against the glass again. She was glad Logan was doing alright, but in this moment she was too tired to express it. 

Logan was breathing heavily, the short walk from the doctor's office was doing a number on him. Car keys jingled as he turned to the girl beside him who was still not looking at him. “I’m glad you two got me here uh…thank you”, he spoke quietly, glancing at F/N through the back mirror, before he shifted to Laura beside him.

“De nada” Logan halted what he was doing, surprise flickering through his hazel eyes and even F/N looked up, her expression unreadable.  He turned to Laura in disbelief: “You can talk?” Laura nodded, as if it wasn't a big deal, his voice became louder, anger mixing with disbelief: “You can talk?” The girl nodded yet again, not looking the slightest bit impressed..  “What the fuck? F/N did you know?” The woman on the backseat shook her head, she hadn't. Logan growled: “Why the fuck… what's all this bullshit been for the last 2.000 fucking miles?” 

Laura snapped, annoyance flickering over her face: “¿Tú pretendes que hable contigo si siempre me insultas, si me gritas, si me intentas dejar tirada? Tú pretendes que abra la boca” (Why do you want me to talk to you if you're always insulting me, yelling at me, if you try to leave me behind? You want me to open my mouth ...) F/N wasn't quite sure what she was saying and Logan too didn't seem to understand, but it was obvious that Laura was angry, especially at Logan. And F/N couldn't even blame her.

The tension grew, Logan's expression shifted: “What? Shut up! Shut up!” He was getting more irritated and angry by the second: “SHUT THE FUCK UP!” He barked and F/N actually flinched but Laura remained unwavering, staring him down. A barking dog seldom bites, F/N had to remind herself. Logan would never hurt her no matter how angry he got. He was simply hurting. Tired and easily irritated. But he would never lay a hand on Laura or her for that matter. Not ever. 

Laura's expression was unreadable as her eyes flickered to F/N for a second, before landing back on her father: “Jonah, Gideon, Rebecca, Delilah, Victor.” she spoke, voice leveled yet firm. Logan interrupted her, he wasn't in the mood for this:

 “What? Who's that?” He snapped yet again. 

But Laura didn't waver, her voice steady: “Jonah, Gideon” 

Logan was having none of it, his anger flaring: “Who is that?” he yelled, getting more and more riled up. 

Barking dogs seldom bite, F/N repeated in her mind. She hated seeing them like this. At each other's throat. 

Laura continued to repeat the names while she took out the envelope of money with the coordinates from her backpack, the yellow paper now covered in specks of dried blood.

F/N watched them in curious silence. She would step in if they went too far.

Laura pointed at the thick envelope: “North Dakota.” Logan coughed, trying to grab the money, but Laura was faster and pulled it away: “What?” He asked, confused and still very much irritated. She pointed at the writing: “North Dakota, por favor.” her voice was insistent. Logan tried to reach for the pack again, hand shaky: “Shit, okay. Look…” he huffed but Laura swatted his hand away: “No. Por favor.”

She gave him a persistent look. Logan shook his head, annoyed by her behavior: “This place. Okay? Your nurse, she read too many stories, you understand? Too many stories!” He was overcome by a coughing fit.

Laura simply ignored him, reaching into her backpack again and taking out her comic book. She opened it, shifting through the bent pages. 

Finally she showed him an image of the idyllic Box Canyon, F/N couldn't help but sigh softly, so this was what this was all about.

“Yeah, I know... I’ve seen it! I've seen it, okay? This all here…” Logan grumbled, tired eyes wandering over the colorful images. “Si! Si!” Laura exclaimed, hoping he'd understand. “None of this…No existo, okay? You understand me?” He flipped through the book and pointed at a page showing the canyon, ‘Eden’ read the caption in bold letters. He jabbed at the image: “This Eden does not exist.” Laura ignored his words, animated expression on her face: “Si! Eden!” Logan shook his head, headache getting worse if that was even possible: “No!” 

“Si, Si Eden” Laura repeated “It's a fantasy, kid. See that?” Logan pointed at the cover, the names of the authors were neatly listed just below the title: “Those are the names of the people who just made this…” He coughed: “They made this whole thing up. Okay? This whole-” He coughed: “It happened once, and they just turned it into a big, fucking lie!”

Laura burst out with more Spanish, yelling at him. But he didn't budge: “That's all this is. No!”

“Le pagaron me llevo a este lugar!

¿Por qué no puedes llevarme a este lugar!” She huffed, annoyed. Then, exasperated, rummaged through her backpack. He sat there, too tired to fight, and watched as she came up with a map. She pointed to where they were, and then to where they needed to go. 

Logan sighed: “I know, I understand.” He grabbed the map from her: “This is a long way. You understand? I am not taking you to North Dakota. I am fucked up and so is F/N.” F/N flinched slightly at his words but she knew he was right, he was in no state for this and neither was she. Logan grunted: “And I cannot get you there. It is a two-day drive And I am not taking you…” He was interrupted by Laura punching him in the arm. Hard. 

Logan was an old barking dog who seldom bit, but Laura…she was just a child. Just like her father she tended to violent outbursts. And while Logan had had years to learn to control himself and tire himself out, she had the vigor, the vitality of youth. She was young and fierce and inexperienced. Sometimes she would act before she could think.

She yelled at him in Spanish, still lashing.

“Don't fucking hit me!”, Logan barked, blocking her attacks, she snarled at him like a wild animal. 

She was just a child. She didn't know how to express herself with words yet. she'd never gotten the chance to learn.

“Don't hit me”, he growled, his voice hoarse from yelling at her. Something flashed through his eyes, he was reaching a breaking point.

“Laura, sweetheart. Logan.”,F/N finally spoke up, voice incredibly gentle and Logan wondered how she could stay this calm and soft in a situation like this. When he was about to explode. Her voice was soothing, even when he was riled up like, she could get through to him. To his heart. His old fucking heart. Hazel eyes flickered from Laura to her, softening just a bit. Laura seemed to calm down a little too, the fierceness in her brown eyes ebbing away just the tiniest bit, revealing her desperation and fear.

“Jonah, Gideon,” She continued her mantra, but was no longer trying to hit him. “stop saying those names.”, Logan tried again. But the little girl was just as stubborn as him. “right now”, Logan huffed, still very much irritated and annoyed, 

“Delilah and Rictor.” Laura was unphased. 

“stop saying those names. Stop it! Stop!” 

But she  continues to repeat them. Over and over again like a broken record. They were the names of her friends. The only family she'd known until meeting Logan…and F/N.

“Fuck. Fine, fine.” the man finally gave in, keys jingling.

“You wanna go? I'll take you there. See for yourself. Let's go to fucking fantasyland.” Logan growled, starting the engine.

F/N let out a breath of relief she hadn't realised she'd been holding.

[mr-1-2-3-4]

The story of Nick’s death and that makes me question myself- @kings-out-of-pocket-hell

November 24th 2027, Popcorn was on the run again from… Someone or perhaps an old friend, it’s better he won’t say. Popcorn didn’t show it but he was downright terrified of that man, or maybe it was because he ran out of arrows and lost his crowbar.

While running he bumped into someone making him stumble over and land on his hands and knees in an alley, he turned around and saw [REDACTED]. He tried to calm down, because he didn’t show much fear around him, but he was terrified and shaking. [RED] noticed how Popcorn looked. It honestly scared him a bit, he knelt down to try and check on him but Popcorn put his hands up.

Popcorn-“don’t touch me! Please!”

[RED]-“Pops, Nick calm down, it's me!”

[RED] slowly took Popcorn’s face in his hands and noticed he was crying, it was the first time he had ever seen him cry, he took a deep breath and wiped the tears from Popcorn’s only good eye, the other one being damaged from an explosion making it not work. He slowly rubbed Popcorn’s back which always calmed him down a bit, he slowly pulled Popcorn into a hug.

[RED]-“calm down and tell me what happened, it’s been a while since I saw you, and then you started sending me those weird audios again like when you disappeared last time”

Popcorn-“he found me again..”

[RED]-“who?”

Popcorn sighed, knowing it’s been too long and [RED] still hasn’t found out, and he knew it was time to come clean.

Popcorn-“you won’t do anything if I pull up my shirt..”

[RED]-“I won’t, I’m not like other fuckers..”

Popcorn nodded before pulling up his shirt showing a Pantheon tattoo on his side, [RED] looked at it for a bit, before slowly looking back at Popcorn after he pulled his shirt back down.

[RED]-“are you with them.?”

Popcorn-“I was. But somethings happened and I left”

They heard something from down the road and Popcorn immediately got up and helped [RED] up. He pulled [RED] into an old building and covered his mouth putting a finger to his own mouth. They heard people getting closer, one was talking which made Popcorn start shaking and made him shake even more when he heard the voice say “you know what you did, Reaper.”.

[RED] pulled him closer into a hug and Popcorn buried his head into his shoulder, he was never going to say he was overreacting because Popcorn never opened up about his pass except a bit of his childhood, and he could tell Popcorn was haunted by his past, knowing the countless nights he didn’t sleep and drug use for reasons.

Popcorn-“I don’t want to die now…”

Popcorn whispered as if he was going to cry or was crying, [RED] whispered back trying to calm him down

[RED]-“you won’t. I won’t let you especially on your birthday..”

After a while they didn’t hear anyone outside and they slowly exited the building. They stuck to the shadows

[RED]-“my car should have some guns in the back. Don’t ask, Beny put them in there a few months before he died”

They walked quietly through the mostly empty streets, finding a few bodies of homeless people, but it was a small town that wasn’t really popular in November. Popcorn slowly scanned the area, paying attention to everything as they walked to [RED]’s car and he popped the trunk open showing a few weapons, Popcorn noticed a couple of arrows and put them in his quiver

Popcorn-“how have you not gotten pulled over?”

[RED]-“my question is how did UNIT 15 get ahold of all of these”

Popcorn-“don’t be mad. But we sometimes stole from Shadow Company’s armory, but I always asked for Graves to order arrows”

[RED]-“you should be worried about Fangs finding out, he hasn’t been the best after Beny died”

Popcorn looked down a bit like he knew something, but he didn’t say as he grabbed a pistol and ammunition as [RED] grabbed what he would use. Popcorn, being a skilled hitman, scanned the area as he saw something or someone in the bushes a few feet away from the car, being on edge but calm enough he slowly loaded his gun quickly but swiftly shot who was there, a body fell limp and he heard a gun drop to the ground.

[RED]-“I didn’t even seen them, how did you”

Popcorn-“I had my fair share and… punishable rookie mistakes. The scars on my arms aren’t from self harm, that was one of my many lies, I went to a very strict but good training camp. I learned a lot and grew in ranks quickly.”

[RED]-“Nick-”

Popcorn-“we aren’t here for trauma venting, or whatever. Now let's go find Holly.”

[RED]-“who?”

Popcorn-“an old friend, now an enemy I had a liking to, but of course I can’t find love or stay in a relationship, you, LoveHurt, Delta… Asher… but we’re not talking about my disappointing actions. It’s best I stay away from having loving emotions.”

Popcorn walked off patting his thigh, something he learned from Delta as a way of telling people to follow. [RED] follows, still telling Popcorn was still shaken up, he could have told him to take a breather but he’d known he’d get the same response that hurt him a little “Work comes first, regardless what your mental state is”.

They search the streets for this Holly guy. They walked for a while until they walked on a street with trucks and vehicles they most likely didn’t belong to anyone there, until they heard a beeping sound

Popcorn-“Get!-”

Before Popcorn could finish an explosion was heard and everything went black for [RED], when he came to, he saw Popcorn dragging him somewhere and dragged him to an alley. [RED] was half conscious, Popcorn sat him down checking him for any serious injuries and didn’t find anything. Popcorn looked at [RED] saying

Popcorn-“Ich muss für meine Taten bezahlen..”

Popcorn said quietly, before dropping his weapons and , laying his bow beside [RED]

Popcorn-“do me a favor if you can understand me, look after that and my guitar and you can have my motorcycle.”

Popcorn went to get up but [RED] grabbed his arm. Popcorn looked at him with a sad look, before jerking his arm away and got up and went back in the street with his hands raised. [RED] saw a few men walk over to him, one being albino, Popcorn started shaking a bit looking at him, [RED] could tell that was most likely Holly.

Holly-“ah, Nick it’s been a while hasn’t it?”

Popcorn-“don’t say my real name, you have no right to.”

Holly-“please. I have no right? What about you?”

Popcorn looked down knowing what Holly was going to say, he had a look of pure sorry and guilt.

Holly-“you shot James and blamed Konni unit, by doing that you broke Beny and then you also shot him at the dam right in the neck making him fall over the rail, and you hit Kipu repeatedly with your crowbar after knocking out Conner with it, and what do you do after that? You started a fire, and should I get started on Danny?”

Popcorn-“don’t please.. I get it… I hurt and killed a lot of people.”

Holly gave him a smirk finding joy in this, he walked closer to Nick

Holly-“and with Danny, you told everyone Danny died of weakness and from the cold. But no, you beat them and you strangled them to death, and Felix was unconscious nearby, your so lucky he didn’t come to”

Popcorn looked down, all the memories of him putting his friends in pain, and killing some. All of them hitting him like a truck, the reason why he got back on drugs is because they helped him forget, Holly walked closer and tilted his head up to make him look at him.

Holly-“need I remind you that you separate people from their families. And look at the scars on my face, do those remind you when you took my brother’s life by pushing him off that bridge. You hurt everyone remember that when you go to hell”

Popcorn-“just kill me already, you know you want to, Holly. Don’t be a pussy.”

Holly hit Popcorn in the head with the back of his gun, making Popcorn fall to the ground. Holly knelt down as Popcorn propped himself up on his elbows, and put a gun to the side of his head, and Popcorn grabbed his wrist, but didn’t try to pull his hand away and actually held it in place, and gave him a look and Holly pulled the trigger.

The gunshot rang out, making [RED] fully come to his senses as his whole world shattered, he turned his head and tears immediately pricked up in his eyes. Nick fell back as Holly and the other men walked away. Although Emile heard most of it, even hearing what Nick did to Beny, he still cared for Nick in a way. He slowly got up, and quickly walked over to Nick, and knelt down and took Nick in his arms, holding him gently.

Emile-“Nick…”

Nick-“sorry sir… I had plans to tell you… just not like this”

Nick took a card out of his pocket, and handed it to Emile

Nick-“it’s the only one… it has all the information to get to my real file… it’s not a fake, it’s the real one… it has everything on me. Keep it safe.”

Emile-“I will…”

Nick-“I’ll see you in hell?”

Nick said letting out a raspy chuckle, he gave a small smile, something he never did, and he looked up at the sky.

Nick-“I never hated anyone, it was a way to keep my emotions from getting out of control”

Emile-“I-I know Nick”

Nick-“rest easy sir”

Nick said as his body went limp, his legs shifting slightly and his hands unraveling a bit. His head tilted to the side a bit and his eye lost life as his eyes became half litted.

Emile held Nick tighter and started to cry, he sat there for a while holding Nick and crying. A few weeks later Emile finally had it in him to get out of bed and walked over to his computer and got the card out and somehow got into Nick’s file, Nick was right it had everything. His backstory, medical records, his life with the Pantheon, everything was on there, and some photos.

The photos were many normal ones, some of Nick in training but some almost made Emile throw up. Everything that Nick was hiding made Emile feel like he was looking at and reading about a completely different person. He felt bad for Nick and couldn’t even imagine how hard it was for Nick to carry on without telling anyone.

Mr.1234-

[allgremlinart]

haiiiiii friend can you explain jianzhu to me I keep seeing you post about them and I’m nosy and wanna know (<- stopped watching atla bc I realized zutara was never gonna be canon)

also jetko. can you explain jetko too (I’m thinking they’re more on the ghostbat spectrum where it’s like. intense friendship that left both emotionally scarred for the rest of their lives)

TEEHEE HEEHE HEE <- me when I get the opportunity to explain/infodump cross-fandom stuff to mutuals

ok so Jianzhu... ahhh Jianzhu... ((SPOILERS for anyone reading the Kyoshi novels))

This is Jianzhu and also like... probably one of maybe 4 canon images/art there is of him... he's not from the original cartoon he's from the Avatar Kyoshi spin-off novels that take place abt 400 yrs before the events of the show (idk how much you know abt atla lore from osmosis so this might get a little tedious? I'm just gonna explain as succinctly as possible.)

To be brief, he's a cunty old man. But unlike when I call, say, Minhkhoa a cunty old man it's not really loving ... its more like... I love to hate him. He's a REALLY good villain.

He's a politician. He made 500 people dig their own graves and then buried them alive. He beheaded his friend of like 20+ years. He drugs and kidnaps teenagers. etc. It's great.

His whole character arc is like... He's in control. You start off the book and he is very clearly in control, and he knows what he's doing, and he even sounds halfway reasonable sometimes but over the course of the novel he gets more and more desperate to grab hold of a situation that spirals wildly away from him and you get to watch it happen. His justifications for his actions get crazier, he gets sloppier and sloppier with his murders....

OH also you know how sometimes people think Bruce is some callous asshole who was only using his adoptive son who worshipped him as a weapon, and when he died he quickly sought to replace him without remorse ? Yeah he's like that but. Like actually this time. His dead adoptive son also then comes back after eating an eyeball in the spirit world (idk) and kills him by pressing a pebble through his sternum so. More successful than Jason at patricide I'd say. Look there's a lot I didn't cover, here's his wiki.

ok Jetko... ah... the ancient yaoi..

Important required reading before I explain this ship is this post. What you have to understand about Zuko is that for basically like... 40 episodes the only person he shares significant screen time with is his uncle so when him and Jet met in s2 and had a decent 3 episodes worth of interactions ... it was enough, lets just say that.

The basic Jetko timeline is they meet on a ferry while Zuko and his Uncle are disguised as refugees and they steal food together -> Jet tries to get Zuko (who he only ever knows as "Li") to join his emo band gang which Zuko refuses -> Jet sees Uncle Warcrimes heating his tea and correctly deduces that they are firebenders (ie not who they say they are; the enemy) -> Zuko and his Uncle work in a tea shop while Jet stalks them and steals things from their house and watches them from behind clotheslines (yeah) -> Jet confronts them in the teashop, sword fight, Jet gets arrested and brainwashed by the secret police (yeah) -> Jet dies under a lake which Zuko only finds out about a season later.

So they never had the 4 years of intense homoerotic cohabitation that ghostbat had,.. their chemistry and potential are pretty much instigated by a few of Jet's weird intense lines, such as "As soon as I saw your scar I knew exactly who you were - you're an outcast, like me." And the crux of the ship is like.. Jet both does and doesn't know who Zuko is.

He knows he is also angry and restless, like himself - he knows he is running from his past, like himself - and he knows he is going to Ba Sing Se to create a new identity. These things are all true, for both of them; what Jet doesn't know is that Zuko is from the imperialist nation that brutally murdered his parents and invaded his home and he incorrectly assumes that the anger he recognizes in Zuko stems from the same need to enact violence on those who have taken everything from him.

So I guess the "thought you were exactly like me but then I found out you're not which enrages and humiliates me so know I'm going to beat the shit out of you" thing from BTK no. 6 is something they share with ghostbat but.. Jet's anger is probably a little more justified than Minhkhoa's lol...

In conclusion it's your basic "doomed relationship/they work great together but that doesn't fix anything" ship premise. It used to be more popular back in the day... pretty sure I owe my life to maybe 3 different Taiwanese/Chinese doujin artists from 2009... yeah that's the gist of it.

[rubydubydoo122]

Jason gets de-aged because I've seen fics of Tim or Dick being de-aged, and Bruce losing his memory, but no one has realized the potential for angst if you de-age Jason.

Dick couldn’t do this. It was like all the guilt from not being there for Jason had flooded back up and was drowning him. Dick had forgotten what Jason’s full smile looked like. Jason hadn’t smiled like how he smiled at Cass since he’d gotten back. 

Dick was so lost in thought, he almost didn’t notice Damian sitting under the sink. He was out of his Robin uniform, but for some reason he was wearing Jason’s leather jacket.

“Richard?”

“You ok, Damian?”

Damian crossed his arms, which was probably meant to showcase indifference, but if anything it made him look smaller. Especially with the leather jacket that was swamping him. “Tt, of course.” Damian rolled out from under the sink and went to leave. But not before wrapping his arms around Dick in an embrace, “Not because I need one, but because you look like you do.”

And then Damian left. 

Dick would figure out what was bugging Damian, just later. Because he needed to collect himself. Dick had seen the way Bruce had froze when Oracle had told them Jason had been reverted to his 15 year old self. Dick was probably going to have to do a good amount of interacting with Jason, because Bruce was sure as hell going to be burying himself in Batman until Jason was an adult again. Dick had never been the best brother to Jason, but now he could try to do better. And it’ll be easier with everyone. Jason has always been Alfred’s favorite, he’d warmed up to Cass basically instantly, Duke has always been easy to get along with, Stephanie and Jason were basically the same person, Dick could bribe Damian to be nicer, and Tim… well maybe if they just never mentioned the Robin thing they’d be fine. 

Yeah. This is all gonna be fine. 

He opened the door to find Cass, Duke and Steph in a heated whisper conversation that abruptly stopped when he opened the door.

Cass just wordlessly engulfed him in a hug, and then Stephanie and Duke followed. 

“He’s so tiny.” Duke mumbled. 

Jason was shorter and lighter than Damian who was currently 3 years younger than Jason. So yeah, Jason was small. It was actually a lot more shocking when he turned up the same height as Bruce. 

Steph pulled away from the group hug, “Alright, what are we gonna do?”

“What do you mean what are we gonna do? Bruce and Tim will figure out how to reverse this. We’ll help if they let us.”

“First of all, Tim’s sleeping, for the first time in probably a couple days, so we’re not gonna wake him up. Second, I was talking about what we're gonna do with Jason, and third, Bruce is probably gonna be… Bruce… right?”

Dick nodded, “Just treat Jason normally.” he paused, because the way they treated Jason “I put 12 heads in a duffle bag and became a drug lord” Todd was distant at best.  “Treat him how you would treat a 15 year old. Not how you would treat 20 year old Jason.”

The three of them nodded as the motor of the Batcycle echoed through the cave.

Let the show begin.

Jason was currently swaddled in his Wonder Woman blanket getting his blood drawn. Alfred had already taken his height and weight, which according to Alfred, was the same as the one from five years ago. He also noted that Jason’s eyes were more green than blue, which apparently happened to him over time with age or something. Which doesn’t really make sense because if he was de-aged then wouldn’t his eyes be the same color? Then again, he still has the white streak in his hair and that’s just hair dye. And he still has a bunch of scars that he doesn’t know where they're from. So who knows how this de-aging thing works.

Alfred took the needle out and placed a bandaid on the hole. “I am going to give this to Master Bruce. Why don’t you head off to–”

“Wait, Bruce is here?” Jason tugged down his sleeve and wrapped the blanket tighter “I’ll come too.”

Alfred looked like he was going to stop him, but didn’t.

Bruce was at the Batcomputer, still in his cowl, and it looked like he was plugging in a red helmet– oh wait, that was Jason’s red helmet– into the computer.

He walked up behind the chair, and looked at the footage that was being played on the screen. It was the same alley Jason was in when he woke up. There was a lady with a giant glowing stick– scepter, who was shooting bolts of magic at the camera. Then a spell hit the Camera directly filling the screen with static.

“Ahh, so we’re dealing with a magician. I dunno about you, Old Man, but I think I have enough sparkle in me to take this lady down.”

If Jason didn’t know any better, he’d say that Bruce was startled at the sound of his voice, but Batman is never surprised. 

But he didn’t turn to face Jason. He didn’t even give him a grunt of acknowledgement.

“Uh, Bruce–”

“Todd!” It was the sound of emo Robin’s voice coming from the stairs. Though the kid was no longer wearing the Robin uniform. He was actually wearing the jacket that Jason had on earlier. “I, urm, require your assistance. With… feeding Batcow. And maybe you could meet Goliath.”

“We have cows ?” Jason was about to jump at the chance to help feed the cow and Goliath, who was probably another cow, but then he realized that he kinda had a mini magical mess revolving around him, “Um, I’m not sure if Bruce’ll need me–”

Dick’s face looked between a proud father and like a sudden realization came over him,“Go ahead Jason. We’ll call you if we need you.” And Jason wasn’t dumb. He could read inbetween the lines, and those invisible lines were saying, get the fuck out, the adults are speaking.  

So Jason shrugged and skipped to the stairs. Now that Jason could see the kid without the domino mask, he looked familiar, in a way Jason couldn’t put a finger on. “Alright, let's see those cows.”

“Actually, it’s cow , singular. Goliath is a Dragon-Bat.” Yeah, the kid looked a lot like an old picture of Bruce. Except with tanner skin and green eyes, but a part of Jason knew that wasn’t why.

“Excuse me, a what now?”

“A Dragon-Bat. Get with the program, Akhi.”

And just like that, a flood of memories with a kid around four or five drawing a bat in front of him. A kid leaning against him with a fire going in a pit. A kid a few paces behind a woman. 

Jason blinked, “You’re Talia’s kid.” Jason looked at the kid as he froze, “Damian.” 

There was a moment where Jason could see the longing in Damian’s face, before it was painted over with a look of apathy,  as he opened up the back door. “You should not have been able to remember that.”

The locations in the memories were clearly of the League of Assassins, so maybe they wiped his memory. Which sounds truly invasive, but that’s a thought for another time. Jason nudged Damian’s shoulder with his own, “I’m proud of you.” 

“Do not patronize me, Todd.” Maybe it was just cold out, but Jason could swear he saw a dusting of red at the tips of Damians ears. 

“I might not remember much of anything, but I still feel proud.” Jason put a hand to his chest, because even though he barely knew the kid, he still felt it. 

Damian paused at the barn doors, “You were the first person to show me kindness. Though, I didn’t really understand it back then. I didn’t even realize it was you until–”

“You were little, I don’t blame you.” Jason shrugged. They entered the barn and low and behold, there was a cow. With a spot on its face that kinda looked like a mask. “So, what’s the story? How’d we get a cow? Did Alfred and Martha Kent make some sort of barter?” They often exchanged cookies for pies, so it wasn’t too unreasonable.

Damian went to a stack of hay, “No. We rescued her from a slaughterhouse that was infecting the animals with diseases.” Damian recounted the mission as they both moved stacks of hay to feed to Batcow, until there was a chime from Damian’s phone. “That should be enough for now. We’re wanted back in the cave.”

They were opening the clock entrance when Jason finally stated, “We didn’t actually have to feed the cow. They just didn’t want me there, right?” It was the middle of the night.

Damian started down the stairs,  “Tt, Father just needed a moment to process. You would too if your adult son was suddenly twelve again.”

“I’m fifteen, first off, and second, I suddenly have four more siblings, and he’s the one that needs to process? He must be getting really old.”

Damian dryly smiled, “Something like that. And five.”

“Five?”

“Five siblings. Well, technically, Brown hasn’t been adopted by father, but she’s at the manor to the point where I think we should get a restraining order.”

Who’s Brown?

“Hey!” Steph shouted from the main area of the batcave, “I heard that, brat! You guys love having me around.”

Oh, right, Damian for some reason only calls people by their last name.

 Damian jumped the rest of the way down, “No we do not, you dreadful shrew.”

“Your face is a dreadful shrew.”

“Your–”

“Alright, Master Damian, Miss Stephanie, we do have some work that needs to be done.”

There was a T-chart on the batcomputer screen. one column labeled “Jason 15: 6 years ago” and the other one labeled “Jason 15: now” Under the columns was his height, weight, hair color, eye color, skin color. That stuff. They were playing spot the difference.

“I, uh, I have a buncha scars I don’t recognize.” and suddenly all eyes were on Jason, “I mean, you guys are tryna, ya know.” he gestured to the screen, “Right?”

Duke was the first one to recover, “Yeah, we’re trying to see what’s different. So far it’s just your hair and eyes.” 

Dick’s hand flew up to rub the back of his neck, “Would you mind showing us?”

Jason looked around the room. He barely knew four of the seven people in the room. He was barely comfortable with Dick seeing him without a shirt, much less people who he met an hour ago. And, yeah, they were his siblings, but that doesn’t mean he was currently super comfortable around them.

There was the sound of rustling, and Damian came back to the table with a sheet of paper and a pencil. Then he quickly sketched something, flipped the paper, and sketched something similar. Damian slid the paper over to Jason. 

It was a drawing of a body, the front was on one side and the back was on the other. It was also really good for something sketched in under a minute. “Holy crow, kid, you’re a prodigy.”

“Tt, it’s hardly my best. Though, this way you can show us without actually showing us.”

Jason plucked the cup of highlighters and colored pens off the desk and got to work. Red were the scars he didn’t remember and Blue were the ones he did. And areas he highlighted yellow were healed burns he didn’t remember and blue highlighter were the burns he remembered getting.

Jason really hoped someone knew where he got some of his scars and burns because he had a lot. Which, yeah, they were vigilantes, some of them didn’t really look like scars he’d get in a fight. He placed the sheet in front of Bruce, who still was barely looking at him. Who still had his cowl on. 

“Did I–” Get hurt? Get kidnapped? Get tortured? No, that wasn’t the right way to phrase it, he huffed, because Bruce still wasn’t looking at him. Jason swiveled the chair so that they were facing each other and gently pulled the cowl back. 

Bruce looked a lot older. He had gray hair, and the creases between his forehead were a lot deeper. Bruce's blue eyes were more gray and somber, like the past seven years had put him through hell and back.  “Did something… happen?”

Bruce took in a deep, finally taking in Jason’s face. “I think it’s past your bedtime.”

“Bruce, I don’t have a bedtime.” Jason crossed his arms, “Don’t’cha think I deserve to know? It’s my life .”

Bruce just put his cowl back on and turned back to the computer. 

“Ya know what? Don’t cross off alternate dimensions just yet, because my Bruce would at least look at me.” And Jason stormed up the stairs.

[giorno-plays-piano]

Thorns In His Mouth

Part V

Pairing: fae!Steve Rogers x reader

Warnings: obsession, dubious consent, minor character death, drugs (neither reader nor Steve are involved), slight eating disorder, mentions of tumor, high tech elves.

Words: 1.7k

Summary: Maybe it was a good idea to chat with a waitress a bit more once she brought you your order. Perhaps she could at least tell you with whom you should speak because you simply couldn’t force yourself to look at others, most of them already high, shouting something loudly or laughing or weeping. You could constantly hear the flapping of someone’s wings, weird whispers and noises, and the sound of boots and hooves that made your hair stand on end.

Part I

Part II

Part III

Part IV

________

You didn't remember how you've gotten home. Whatever happened yesterday in that fallen fae's hovel already became a blur except for the face of a dead elf laying on a dirty sofa, his black veins like spider silk threads, shaking you to the core. You saw his peaceful face when you slept, and you woke up weeping, your lids puffy and wet.

Although you knew nothing of him, and perhaps there was nothing surprising about a drug addict like him dying, he had been a living being, still. He wasn't born but made this way. It was hard to believe that a brave warrior, a protector of his kin, even if he failed to win one of his battles, deserved to end up like that, abandoned by everyone, human or fae. Did anyone, though?

Julius got no help, no sympathy, no hope. Surely, he wasn't the only one, and your human world was full of homeless and troubled people who faced the same things, but seeing a man - an elf - die like that made you want to scream until someone came and set things right.

He should have gotten help. He deserved it, at least. If he had gotten it on time, wouldn't he be alive now? He'd meet you that night with Steve, tell you his story, listen to you asking him to meet that mysterious High Lord who was searching for his brother, and perhaps returned to the Sacred lands where he belonged.

But now Julius was dead, and you had to live with it.

The water was cold, but you still spent good twenty minutes in the shower, letting the water wash away the fatigue - it felt as if you hadn't slept at all - and tears that kept rolling down your cheeks. You felt exhausted and scared. Why didn't you anticipate this when agreeing to the deal with that elf? He told you honestly what became of the fallen fair folk. You should have known what to expect. What were you going to do? Shouldn't you have at least called the police to report Julius' body? How did elves go about this? Did they even bury the bodies of the folk? Would they leave it up to humans? Would they take a grave offense if people showed up and took the body of one of them? Have Steve done anything?

When you almost gathered enough strength to call the police, you realized you hadn't the slightest idea where that place where you found the dead elf was. You had no address, and with your sense of direction it was impossible to guess where Steve had taken you yesterday. You did walk quite a while, after all.

You hoped Steve took care of Julius. You were scared to go looking for that place, shaking as you wrapped yourself in your thick cotton robe.

But you'd have to come back anyway, wouldn't you? You had to respect your end of the bargain. You needed to get back in that café that smelled like piss and vomit, full of addicts and alcoholics and all sorts of degenerates and stay there as long as it took until you found that one elf your mysterious friend was looking for.

You couldn't do it. It was simply out of question.

Before you could give this thought some time, figuring out how to deal with you High Lord elf, your phone suddenly rang, and you immediately recognized the number of your mother's doctor. Why was he calling? Why so early in the morning?

The screening. They had her screening early in the morning today. Good God, you forgot.

You gripped the phone tightly in your hand, pressing it to your ear, "Good morning, Mr. Alves."

The man on the other side greeted you in a somewhat nervous tone, albeit trying to mask it, unconvincingly, and your heart fell somewhere down your stomach. Good God, you despised hearing back from the hospital. They rarely brought you good news.

"How's she?" You asked grimly, setting your eyes on your reflection on the mirror but seeing nothing at all, too invested in the conversation.

There was a distinctive silence on the other side of the phone, and you trembled, gripping your own so hard the display's glass protector threatened to break under pressure. In your mind you have already invisioned numerous scenarios, all rather apocalyptic, involving your mother and you, and you breath grew shallow from the wave of anxiety. Why was he silent?

"We have... an unexpected development," the doctor mumbled, and you tore your lower lip, tasting blood on your tongue. "The... the tumor stopped growing. Abruptly."

"What?"

You stared stupidly at your own reflection, finally noticing how horribly you looked after a sleepless night, crying your eyes out, but you dismissed your fatigued face, licking the blood off your lip as you pressed the phone closer to your ear, afraid you misheard.

"I-I'm sorry, could you say it again, please? It has stopped growing?"

Despite how aggressive it was before?

"Yes, it has. Before you ask me why, we're still not sure if your mother started responding to the latest changes in her treatment, but... but it has stopped growing. For now. Which is good."

"Yes. Yes, it's... it's good."

"It's good."

"It's very good."

You clapped a hand against your mouth so the doctor wouldn't have to listen to your hysterical cries and wailing. It has stopped growing. It finally has. Your mother was stable, for once, the first good news you got in forever. How long has it been since Dr. Alver told you anything hopeful? More and more your visits to him were making you sick as you failed to have any kind of support, a reassurance your mother would be alright. On the contrary, he was telling you to prepare yourself. You dreaded your visits to his office, each accompanied by such anxiety you were close to having a panic attack.

And now your mother was good. Maybe not entirely, but safe. She responded to the treatment.

... or has she?

For a second, you froze on the stop. The treatment? The treatment she was unresponsive to for so long, with all these inadequate doctors just waving their hands off when you asked them about new treatments or experimental programs that may help your mother when they themselves couldn't?

No, she wasn't responding to their crude method of treating her tumor. She was responding to the elf and his ways. To his magic, in exchange for your services.

____________

You were at the cafe right after you finished your work. You were exhausted beyong measure and still frightened of what may happen, but your determination made you put that aside. Your mother mattered above anything and anyone else. She was in there, fighting for her life, and the least you could do was to give her a chance.

But when you spotted a familiar tall elf with a distinctive bleached hair reaching his waist, you almost ran away. Steve had to yell at the top of his voice to stop you when you tried to squeeze yourself into the wall from fear, facing a dead end.

"Please! I won't hurt you!" He exhaled, cornering you as the passing fae with horns looked at the two of you, curious but warned against intervening by an exasperated elf and his icy stare.

You gulped down, shivering.

"I swear I won't hurt you. Please, don't run," he pleaded.

As if you had a choice with him blocking the road, you thought, clenching your black bag against your chest like it was a magic shield. What did this deranged elf want with you? Was he now tied to you by some ridiculous ritual he needed to perform since you saw the death of his kin? Did he need to erase your memory? You wouldn't mind it, actually.

"How may I help you?" You asked, puzzled and unsure how to even adress the elf. Were you on friendly enough terms to call him by his human name after what you had seen yesterday?

Steve gave out a sad laugh, turning his head away for a second before he looked at you and pulled something from the pocket of his leather jacket, making you tremble again until you saw they were your pearl earrings you had given the elf yesterday. Why was he giving them back to you? Did they not suffice? Did he want something better?

"Take them," he said with longing as if he was partying with a king's crown, placing them in your palm, his pale skin cold to the touch. "This is my apology to you for... for everything."

You stared at the white round pearls in your hand, blinking, not knowing what to say. Was it customary to return a gift given for fae's services if that fae failed to provide them? It made sense, sort of. But had Steve really failed? He had only promised to take you to the elf who might have been someone you were looking for, and he fulfilled his end of the bargain. Why was he giving you your earrings back?

As you watched them, suddenly thinking they were heavier now and bringing them closer to your face, you realized those were not the cheap plastic pearls you bought from a local store for a couple of dollars. They were real pearls, round and shiny and impossibly beautiful.

"You replaced the pearls?" Taken aback, you stared at the man, open-mouthed.

He nodded, nervously tucking his bleached hair behind his ear, "Yes. I made a talisman out of them, and it required decent material for a strong enchantment. Pearls are durable... and pretty."

They were enchanted?

Dear God, please let it be a good enchantment, you thought, sweating profusely with a goddamn faery relic in your hand.

_________

"It's a protection spell. A good, strong one," he added quickly, noticing your discomfort. "It'll help you when we'll be searching for the elf you're looking for."

Part VI

Tags: @finleyjayne @alexakeyloveloki ​@helenaeisenhower @villanellevi @inlovewiththefictionalcharacters @navegandoaciegas @rosalynshields @sllooney @angrythingstarlight @lookiamtrying @buckysbunny @soleil-dor @stargazingfangirl18 @dillybuggg @literate-lamb @cosicas-cuquis @sarge-barnes-sir @buckybarnesplumwhore @jaysayey @megzdoodle @gotnofucks @lux-ravenwolf @biiskuitx @stupendouslovegardener @melodierin @yeolliedokai @what-is-your-wish @lou-la-lou @gachawipes133 @eralen @magnificantmermaid @lovelydarkdaydream @illyrianprincess @youngdreamer3214

[lost-inanotherlife]

Hey, it's the same anon again. Thank you for the reply, I completely relate to everything you wrote!

I'd like to add that people often call Jack an asshole who "doesn't understand" other survivors, but the truth is, other survivors don't understand him either.

For example, I've seen many viewers bashing Jack for snapping at Kate in s1e12, after she retrieved her toy airplane, but they seem to forget the events of the earlier episodes.

Jack was the one who ultimately had to put down the marshal and even buried him by himself (Kate asked him why he didn't burn the marshal with the other bodies in the fuselage, and his answer was "I had to bury him").

Obviously, taking this man's life was a difficult moment for Jack (it's also implied that he sees mercy killing as murder), then just a few days later, Kate casually asks him to dig up the marshal's body, essentially asking him to reopen a painful wound. She then tries to deceive him with the key, and when he keeps his promise to her despite everything, she pulls out a random plastic airplane and shuts him out as if he didn't just desecrate a grave to help her retrieve this seemingly useless toy...

(I love Kate btw don't get me wrong hehe)

Omg Anon I love your cut-to-the-chase approach because YES! "Other survivors don't understand Jack", say it louder for the people in the back!

Let's be clear: I'm NOT making excuses for Jack's behavior. If people check my blog they will see that I call him out quite often. The thing is that I think that the way he reacts kinda makes sense with how the narrative treats him.

Let's take Kate as an example since you've brilliantly pointed out how people tend to side with her and call Jack a douche. Which okay, fair BUT.

Premise: I love Kate. I don't find her relatable at all but she's a goldmine in terms of characters whose potential was squandered because of a love triangle that ended in S3. But I digress.

Kate is a deeply, deeply flawed chatacter like honestly ALL characters on that damn island. This is not a flaw but she is like the other losties in that she sees Jack as an IDEAL.

Of course, compared to other people she actually gets to know him etc. But she's primarily fascinated by Jack because she wants his approval and validation so badly (I'll link some of my metas about this specific topic) sometimes it makes her look a bit... confused.

Take for instance that episode in S1 or maybe 2? where she drugs Jack. Not cool, am I right? Well, Jack finds out and takes it out on her but he's also quite soft about it. Well, to that what does Kate reply? She actually tells Jack in the face something like "how could you even think that I'd do something like that?".

I meaaaaaan, guuuuuurl. Come on. This is Manipulation 101. You can't get mad cause he got you. Change tactics. But no, she insists because she wants Jack The HeroTM to tell her she's a good girl.

I find all this absolutely compelling and fascinating because it makes Kate feel more 3D and alive and real. As any human being who's full of contradictions and unknown desires.

To sum it up: even Kate tends to see Jack not as Jack Shephard, A Real MessTM but as Jack The Good Guy.

If you ask ME who on that crazy island better understood the real Jack I'd say Sawyer.

Their relationshio could have been so much more than a love triangle and I'll forever be mad about it.

Thanks again Anon! Your smart takes give me the excuse to yap and I'm loving every second! Hahhaha!

My Meta about Kate (THEY ARE VERY LONG POSTS): detailed but incomplete analysis of the ep "I Do' (it's incomplete cause nobody was reading it so I stopped posting it).

foundational analysis of Kate, "What Kate Did" is THEE Lost episode.

[soupdeewoop]

favorite lines from "THE TORTURED POETS DEPARTMENT"

your wife waters flowers, i want to kill her

All my mornings are monday stuck in an endless february

but you're in self-sabotage mode, throwing spikes down the road

we're modern idiots

You smoked then ate seven bars of chocolate

i scratch your head, you fall asleep, like a tattooed golden retriever

sometimes i wonder if you're gonna screw this up with me, but you told lucy you'd kill yourself if I ever leave

'cause it fit too right, puzzle pieces in the dead of night, I shouldve known it was a matter of time

'cause i knew too much, there was danger in the heat of my touch, he saw forever so he smashed it up

did you really beam me up?, in a cloud of sparkling dust, just to do experiments on, tell me I was the chosen one, showed me that this world is bigger than us, then sent me back where I came from

now im down bad crying at the gym, everything comes out teenage petulance, "fuck it if I cant have him", "I might just die, it would make no difference"

how dare you think its romantic, leaving me safe and stranded

my spine split from carrying us up to the hill, wet through my clothes, weary bones caught the chill

thinking how much sad did you think I had, did you think I had in me? oh the tragedy

i stopped cpr, after all its no use

two graves, one gun, ill find someone

you swore that you loved me, but where were the clues? i died on the alter waiting for the proof

i just learned these people try and save you 'cause they hate you

id rather burn my whole life down than listen to one more second of all this bitchin' and moanin', ill tell you something 'bout my good name, its mine along with all the disgrace, I don't cater to all these vipers dressed in empire's clothing

there's a lot of people in town that I bestow upon my fakest smiles

my friends tried, but i wouldn't hear it, watched me daily disappearing, for just one glimse of his smile

another summer, taking cover, rolling thunder, he doesnt understand me, splintered back in winter, silent dinners, bitter, he was with her in dreams

little did you know you home's really only a town youre just a guest in

florida, is one hell of a drug, florida, can I use you up?

little did you know your home's really only the town youll get arrested, so pack your life away just to wait out the shitstorm back in texas

i need to forget, so take me to florida, ive got some regrets, ill bury them in florida, tell me I'm despicable, say its unforgivable, at least the dolls are beautiful, fuck me up, florida

go on, fuck me up

this cage was once just fine, am i allowed to cry?

what if hes written "mine" on my upper thigh only in my mind?

these fatal fantasie given way to laboured breath taking all of me, weve already done in my head

what if the way you hold me is actually whats holy?

they dont know how youve haunted me so stunningly, i choose you and me, religiously

if you wanted me dead you shouldve just said

crash the party like a record crash as i scream, "whos afraid of little old me?", you should be

i wanna snarl and show you just how disturbed this has made me, you wouldn't last an hour in the asylum where they raised me

you caged me and then you called me crazy, i am what i am 'cause you trained me, so whos afraid of me?

they shake their heads saying, "god, help her" when i tell 'em hes my man

ill show you heaven if youll be an angel, all mine

whoa, maybe i cant

i thought i was better safe than starry-eyed

if you know it in one glimpse, its legendary, you and i go from one kiss to getting married

you shit-talked me under the table, talking rings and talking cradles, i wish i could unrecall, how we almost had it all

youre the loss of my life

the lights refract sequin stars off her silhouette every night, i can show you lies

'cause im a real tough kid, i can handle my shit, they said "babe, you gotta fake it till you make it" and i did

lights, camera, bitch, smile, even when you wanna die

im so depressed, i act like its my birthday everday

'cause im miserable (haha), and nobody even knows, try and come for my job

and i dont even want you back, i just want to know, if rusting my sparking summer was the goal

you didnt measure up in any measure of a man

in fifty years will all this be declassifed?, and ill say, "good riddance"

i wouldve died for youre sins, instead i just died inside

so when i touch down, call the amateurs and cut 'em from the team

'cause the sign on your heart said its still reserved for me, honestly, who are we to fight the alchemy?

he jokes that "its heroin, but this time with an E"

you look like clara bow

this town is fake but youre the real thing, breath of fresh ait through smoke rings

the crowd goes wild at her fingertip, half moon shine, a full eclipse

youre the new god were worshipping, promise to be dazzling

beauty is a beast that roars down on all fours demanding more

you look like taylor swift, in this light, were loving it, youve got edge, she never did, the futures bright, dazzling

[deadboyfriendd]

Hello my dearest Flea, the light of my life, the chimi to my changa, the cheesy to my gordita crunchwrap,

Might I pretty pretty please request

"Throwing a party it's like... it's like an invitation for abuse. It's like the last desperate act of someone who hasn't had a lasting relationship since Junior High."

Forrrrr….. Video Girl? :3c

Ah, Video Girl, the fic that started it all for us. Who would have known that it would explode into two multi-fic AU's and change the way we write forever?

Here you go, crockpot.

+

Eddie isn’t in college, but he sells drugs at college parties. 

This party had to be breaking some sort of fire codes, college kids sardine-packed from wall-to-shared-wall. The bass from Mark Morrison’s Return of the Mack rattled both the studs in the walls and your brain between your ears. It was a sardine can in here, and would not be less suffocating if it were packed in oil. 

You didn’t know why you were here. You had only ever really come to these things for Eddie, now. You felt like a ghost, haunting this party. You felt like a body sunken into a grave and then forgotten about, buried over, headstone covered in moss– You knew you were being insufferable right now, but the alcohol made you feel more sick than sociable now and the pot smelled more familiar than you were comfortable with. 

You barely knew anyone here. 

You pouted in your own shitty solidarity, the heel of your sneaker hitting the hollow cabinet beneath you with a rhythmic thud– a reminder that you still existed and were still, unfortunately, tethered to this mortal plane. 

You looked up from your bubble of solidarity in this kitchen, to be met with disgustingly familiar eyes– frozen in the doorway in front of you. 

Scratch that, you knew the drug dealer. You couldn’t decide if that was a good thing or a bad thing. 

He learned his body across the door jamb, arms crossed. This left you with no escape route and no way out of this conversation. Though, you were a glutton for punishment, and an even bigger glutton for his attention, “I was hoping to see you, here.”

“I shouldn’t have come.” You said to him, only halfway truthful. You didn’t let your eyes meet his. 

“So you didn’t want to see me?” He asked you, brow cocked and expression waning.

“No.”

He couldn’t help the smile that pressed vallies into the glycerine of his face. “Then, why did you come?”

“Because I wanted you to want me to come.” 

“I did want you to come.” 

Actually, you wanted him to want you. 

"Throwing a party it's like... it's like an invitation for abuse. It's like the last desperate act of someone who hasn't had a lasting relationship since Junior High."

Eddie thought about Gareth, who shared the rattling walls of this condo with Jeff, who also invited Eddie in as an inhabitant on a night-to-night basis. They had all met in middle school. When Eddie was in eighth grade. He tried not to let it sting. 

“Maybe I like your abuse.”

“Maybe I like yours, too.”

[botanicallyinclinednerd]

The Umbrella Academy season 4 episode 4

I have been excited to see this since season 1, oh my god, FINALLY gonna see how Ben died

Oh my god, Allison trying to drag Klaus out of the bathtub and FAILING (she could have rumored him but I appreciate that she didnt/tried other avenues first)

The fact Ben didn't want to go. Do you think that haunted Luther? That if he hadn't said anything, maybe Ben would still be alive? (Hargreeves would have noticed and forced him to come anyway, but survivors guilt is a hell of a thing)

All my homies hate Hargreeves

Love that Pogo is their poilet

He opened it, that's why. And he finds Jennifer

Hes gonna touch her and go boom

OH MY GOD

HOLY FUCK

ALL MY HOMIES DESPISE REGINALD HARGREEVES, HOLY FUCK

HE KILLED BEN

Oh my god, and Ben never would have known, he was shot from behind, in the head, he died instantly

They should kill him, slowly

Oh I knew she was too "normal" can't trust that on this show

ALLISON I LOVE YOU YES BEAT UP THE OLD MAN

They won't let him take their brother from them again, regardless that this is not the Ben they grew up with, they won't lose him again (they might anyway, along with everything else)

Rip him apart Viktor, fucking GET his ass

They love him. Ben. They love him because of their Ben, I think is a big part of it, but over the past 6 years, I believe it's become more than that. He's become their Ben too. Different, from the first one, but still *Ben*. And when they look at him, that love is there for both versions of him. And they will not lose him again. Certainly not like this

The freaking transition from THAT realization to Klaus being a medium is really fucking funny

Klaus doesn't know... unless he does, somehow, remember due to all the drugs and alcohol, and just never said anything cause he assumed the others knew too... hm

Oh. So uh. Was Ben a haunting, then? 16 years by his side feels like a haunting to me

PFFFTTT

This did remind me I have peaches in my fridge, dunno if they are from Georgia though

This is very uncomfy!

Nah, just Ben did that, and I do, for one, peg this version of him to have no problem killing some bitches if he deems it necessary

Would love for them to save OG Ben! But also I think that's a bad idea, and it won't work.

Luther and Diego are so funny together

Cause they're family babe, and thats what they do

The fact they they don't know who this is somehow makes me trust him even less, cause I don't know what he actually wants. I KNOW what Jean and Gene want, but him? I had assumed he was working with them to Jumpstart the Cleanse, but they don't know who he is. Which means he somehow knew that she had an opposite particle in her and touching one of the Umbrellas would mean the end of the world. So how does he know that? And why does he, specifically, want that to happen?

The fact that they are perfectly mirroring each other rn

"Those people aren't my family. My family died a long time ago." Is that so? Well. They see you as their brother. And they are not giving up on you

Certainly SOUNDS like fate

Heh. Six

Is the announcer voice the Handler? It sounds like her

Oh is that why he was digging up a grave in the trailer?

No, this is different. Allison was dragging him out of the tub in the original time line. Where's Allison

Buried alive? 👀

Oh honey :(

They drove each other nuts but they love each other

UHHHHHHHHHH

[ralith]

Venting time because I just got back from my stepbrother's funeral.

I will preface this by saying I understand every family has different traditions and dysfunctions, and that I'm only looking in from the outside, so I can't understand the things I saw today. But I will rant about it.

To begin, yes, they thought it was a good idea to bury my stepbrother on 4/20 despite suffering from alcohol and drug abuse his whole life, and it's a drug overdose that killed him. They thought he would find it funny. Y'know what, maybe he would've. I only met him once a few years back so I didn't know him well.

We got to the chapel late because we had to pick up my other stepbrother and his gf. He was dragging his feet getting ready and when they get in the car they stink of cigarettes, which tells me we're late bc they needed to light up.

Now my chest begins to burn from the smell.

The ceremony was good except for the one motherfucker who didn't silence their phone 🙄

We get to the graveside, a few more words are said, and the grave digger is standing awkwardly to the side, ready to begin filling the hole.

Then my stepbrother's birth mother suddenly whips out a bag of fucking Nips and passing them out before saying something rather stereotypical and offensive.

Finally the urn is placed in the ground, the grave digger begins to fill the hole, and family lingers around.

Then, in yet another "what the fuck" moment, the old gf of my steobrother sits down beside the grave, lights a joint ("in his honor") and starts passing the fucking thing around.

I'm done at this point, I get in the car, and of course my waste of human existence stepbrother and his gf shared the joint and now the car smells to hell of cigarette smoke and skunk ass.

My chest is aching from the smell and it's still tight as i type this. I'm also getting a headache in the car from it all.

We then went to a restaurant and the food was good and I could begin to unwind a bit. Then on the way home my stepbrother starts complaining how he doesn't have enough money for cigarettes and if my stepdad could give him some cash and it took every matter of my being to keep from me whipping around and saying shit like "you smell bad enough as is. You don't need more cigs."

So I'm back home now and tired and I think the secondhand smoke is ramping up my anxiety/OCD because it was maintained okay earlier, but it's bad now.

[historia-vitae-magistras]

"As the first molar forms during infancy, a conclusion of high status, high protein diet can be drawn. The second sample however, suggests marked poverty and high cereal and plant based diet."

Is it possible to cry over a dry statement of scientific facts? Too late, I'm crying. It took me a second to parse it, but... the first molar is from when their mother was still around and they were important and honored. And the second sample is little baby Arthur alone in the world, or maybe with his also-young siblings doing their best to take care of him. My heart is so broken. (Also, I knew it was going to be Arthur and Magnus, but I was still vibrating with excitement about "ooh, the mixed origins of the younger one's stuff!!! That's Arthur!!!!" Also, the mixed origins of Arthur's stuff... bow from Rhys, seax from his own people, figurine indicating specifically the people that make him different from the brother who made his bow... how do you give me emotions from an academic paper???? Not fair!)

“I’m not entertaining the possibility because it’s not possible.” Arthur snapped, pacing about the kitchen. Rhys dragged his hand down his face.

Look, Arthur, you wouldn't be so upset if you weren't worried about the implications. All I'm saying.

Also, huge Arthur move to react to the excavation turning up some very personal stuff by saying "that is not real and I will not permit any more digging." Almost like that's exactly how he deals with emotions.

“They can’t have drug up my corpse from the back garden when I am standing right here!”

“And yet they have.”

I just love the back and forth. I love them bickering and I love Rhys trying to calm his little brother down. (And I feel like he's gotta be having some weird emotions too? Like "hey, remember when your asshole brother who conquered you and most of the planet was just a little kid with a bow you made for him because mama was gone? We found that kid's grave." That has to be doing a number on him.) (And now that I've typed that out, is there some symbolism or commentary with the grave of little mixed-culture Arthur with things from his family vs. the living adult Arthur who's... improving now, but was very much not that kid for a long time? The less-empire-y version of him was literally dead and buried out back while the vicious empire walks around? And now I'm thinking about the axe in his back and how he considered it his fault for being "too weak" for such a long time. It doesn't mention how the younger skeleton died - was it that??? Was the version of Arthur that might not have become the empire literally buried in the empire's back garden???)

Dude, this was short. And at least half "academic language." How did you do all of that??? Like, part of it is me knowing your other fics, but you're still the one who called them to mind!

Point being, my mind is blown, spinning wildly with theories, and I am very very much looking forward to the rest of this fic. Holy shit.

God I am so happy 😭. I can't answer much yet but god thank you so much for caring when I post stuff.