#missing something in that way. but rather that the world has hurt her & that she needs her found family & that she gets to heal.

[aardvaark]

I like how it seems Beth Riesgraf (Parker) made a really wild impression on the Leverage creators, executive producers & network, from all the interviews...

Leverage Cast: S4 Behind The Scenes - Auditions

Beth Riesgraf: I left the [audition] room and it was one of those moments where you go down to your car and something clicks, and you really get something that you didn’t get in the room. So I walked back up and they’re like "well, he’s got about five more people to see" so I was like "oh, awesome". So I waited. John comes out of the room and I���m like [suddenly very animated] "hi! so listen!" and by the time I was done, I had him like this [grabs Timothy Hutton, who’s seated next to her, by his lapels with both hands] and I didn’t even realise, but I got so excited that I was like "no no no, just let me do it again!" and John was like, "no no no, I think you’re fine… I think you got it. I think you got the character".

LA Screening Q&A with Devlin, Rogers & Downey

Dean Devlin: Fun story with Parker is that there were two actresses who came in for the final reading for the studio. And one of the two actresses - beautiful girl, very competent actor, very good […]. But after she left, we turned to the people at the network and we said, "she’s great, we like her - this next girl’s the girl we’d really like to hire. She’s not kind of the typical girl you’d normally hire in a show like this". So then Beth [Riesgraf] came in for the audition. Didn’t say one word. Just came in- John Rogers: None of this "hi, I’m here", yeah. Dean: She just read in character, and then walked out of the room. At which point the head of TNT turned to me and said, [whispering] "is she… crazy?". [normal voice] I said, "I don’t know, but I love her". John: Her hair was in her face, remember? She came in and did like, the crazy, angry, just-hates-everyone Parker.

The way these link up so well is so funny to me & it gives such a hilarious picture of the Parker audition process.

[sukirichi]

WHEN I SEE YOU AGAIN | G. SATORU x READER

You’ve been pretending not to see ghosts your whole life in order to blend in perfectly, but you can’t ignore the cute ghost with a bright smile standing in front of your door.

cw. ghost! gojo. fem! reader. minimal fluff. graphic depictions of murder. angst. hurt no comfort. mentions of grief. mentions of being under the influence (alcohol and drugs.) characters with depression. unedited.

notes. wrote a lil something for gojo since it’s been a while since i wrote any jjk fics and i missed it :( also should i open requests again? i miss writing one shots lol

wc. 7k

You met him on the first night of winter.

Eager to get home after a long and tiring day at work, you blow hot air on your freezing palms to keep them warm before stuffing it deep in your coat pockets. The walk home was less than fifteen minutes, and you’ve always refused to buy a car because you enjoyed the journey and wanted to familiarize yourself more with the city. You previously lived in the outskirts, but after a phone call from the main department telling you you were promoted and had to transfer in the city, you found yourself packing up on the weekend and renting a cheap apartment.

Located in the middle of everything – convenience stores, medical facilities, popular bars, and a quaint looking flower shop with a cute florist – you thought your apartment was perfect. It was a little shabby, you had to admit. The plumbing didn���t work well and electricity got cut off at random times in the night that resulted in a headache because you couldn’t send that damn email, but the landlord offered an extremely cheap rent that you couldn’t refuse. Plus, it was only a few minutes walk from your office and your neighbors were peaceful.

Well, most of them anyway.

Your neighbors consisted of mostly old couples who were so silent and desolate that you often forgot they existed, your eyes widening whenever you saw an unfamiliar old lady walking and asking you how your day was before realizing, Oh, she’s Mrs. Oliver, I completely forgot. Save for the married couple who were always throwing pots and pans at each other because darn Ronald couldn’t put the toilet seat back down, your place was placid. The landlord was ecstatic when you saw her poster and inquired for a unit, muttering something about not getting enough tenants to keep the place going because of ‘a traumatic issue.’

You’d really rather not ask what it was.

Besides, you’ve never been curious enough of what the world has to offer, simply because you see things – or rather fragments of people – that you’d rather not see. Ever since you started seeing ghosts at a young age of four, people avoided you like the plague, calling you a ‘freak’ and whatnot. Your family soon moved away to a much smaller place in the city because they couldn’t handle seeing their child who often talked to ghosts and sat in corners alone while laughing by herself be criticized by others. They didn’t believe you, of course, often calling it a ‘lonely child’s imagination.’ They sent you to multiple therapists who always assured you that they would listen to whatever problems you were having to cause you to be this way.

Unfortunately for them, there wasn’t anything wrong with you. You weren’t lonely at all. You saw a dozen ghosts every day who were always ecstatic at finding out you could see them, and they were more than willing to interact. As a child, you always thought ghosts were more interesting than actual people because they had an unlimited amount of time to converse with you, and they have had so many experiences to share with you. 

When you grew older, however, you started to see yourself in other’s eyes, realization dawning on you that on social norms, you are, indeed, a freak.

Determined to fit in more and also sick of being faced with countless counselors who strongly believed you had a traumatic experience when your whole life has been nothing but bland and plain, you started ignoring them. It wasn’t easy at first, though. These ghosts have always kept you company while everyone gave you the side eye without knowing who you really were, and you admit you felt lonely in the beginning and a little guilty when they were convinced you couldn’t see them anymore.

You participated more in school activities and even joined a photography club in high school (you had to quit a month later because ghosts kept appearing on your photos, and you had to burn them in order not to freak anyone out) and with each baby step you took, you started to fit in more. The proud look your parents had on their faces when you had finally become ‘normal’ and even got an award for being an exemplary student was enough to keep you going on this journey, and you ignored the lonely spirits so hard that you eventually started seeing less and less of them.

Until now.

Standing in front of your door was a young man, his back awkwardly bent and long, beautiful fingers fiddling awkwardly with one another. He stood barefoot yet wore a comfy looking blue university hoodie and grey sweatpants, and his silver hair seemed shiny and healthy enough to  not consider him a homeless man who was lost and simply wandering. Tipping your head to the side, you rack your brain to remember if you had any neighbours like him. 

His head snaps in your direction. 

He is definitely not your neighbour. You would have remembered such a cute looking guy.

He had unnaturally ethereal futures, prominent cheekbones becoming more pronounced when you meet his eyes, and you blink to gain control over your body when you realize you’ve been staring too long than what would be considered acceptable. You don’t even deny you’ve been checking him out, although you do ignore the almost puppy-like way his eyes lit up at the sight of you, causing your heart to jump a little. Just a little. You also liked how his hair complimented perfectly with his pale skin – he seemed like an exact embodiment of winter. 

You walk forward, spinning your keys at the end of your pointer finger. Smiling at him politely, you paused in your tracks. He’d been blocking your door. “Hello, is there something I can help you with?”

No matter how cute he was, you wouldn’t hesitate to break his nose if he was a criminal.

His pretty hands come up to his face to cover his mouth falling open, and you take a step back when he does a little jump and starts laughing. “You can see me?”

“Uhm, yes,” you answer. “You’re blocking my door, so yeah, I can very much see you.”

As if realizing just now he stood in the way of you and your comfortable bed, who was calling out to you by now, he mutters a quick apology under his breath before stepping aside, a goofy grin remaining on his face and his childish behavior makes you scoff in amusement. He was still watching you even after you’ve unlocked your door, and you sigh at him. “Is there any reason you’re still standing outside my apartment, or should I call the police?”

Instead of looking worried like you expected him to, his smile only gets bigger. “Actually, I live here, well… I used to.”

You stare at him blankly with a slack expression on your face, watching as his features turn sheepish. He rubs the back of his neck awkwardly. Looking down on his bare feet, you mumble a curse under your breath when you realize he’s hovering. 

“Not again,” you say to yourself before placing a palm against your forehead. It’s been years since you last saw a ghost, why did you have to see them now out of all times? A new branch is opening up and your superiors have given you the project of making sure the launch goes well, and you didn’t really want a ghost bothering you with your biggest task of all time. You worked hard for this promotion, you didn’t want to take one step forward and two steps back. Glaring at the undeniably attractive ghost who still hovered in your doorway, you decided he wasn’t your problem. 

“Well, goodnight.”

You slam the door on him and trudge towards your bedroom, ignoring his “Wait!” as you unwrap the red scarf around your neck and plop on your bed almost lazily, moaning when your stiff muscles finally relax. The bed was so soft and warm because you’d left the heater on accidentally, and you’re about to be sent to dreamland when a voice beside you speaks up.

“You should take off your makeup before going to bed.”

Opening your eyes and coming face-to-face with the ghost who was resting his chin in both of his hands and laying on your bed, you grab a pillow and throw it at him, and he grins when the object goes past him completely. “Get out of my house, stop bothering me!”

“Technically, darling, this is still my house,” he tells you and starts sitting up before crossing his legs. “The unit was still named after me before you came.”

“Then why wasn’t I informed about that?”

“I was murdered here four years ago,” he deadpans, soft voice flitting into a murmur as he plays with his fingers again, refusing to look at you. “That’s why I never left. Judging from what you said earlier, you can see ghosts, and you know exactly why we’re still here.”

Swallowing a lump in your throat, you stumble over your words. “I-I’m sorry, I didn’t know and–”

“It’s quite alright,” he shrugs. 

Silence soon joins the two of you; the ghost playing with the ends of your blanket with a far-off look in his face while you study his features, and something tugs at your heart. The reason why ghosts remain here instead of passing on like they were supposed to was because it meant someone was still holding on to them and absolutely refused to let go, or if they had unfinished business that needed to be resolved before they could go in peace. You’ve met ghosts like him who were murdered, and all of them remained with a seething rage and insatiable need for revenge, unable to accept that there wasn’t much they could do in their state. 

As for the one sitting in your ghost, a small smile tugs at the end of his pink lips as he takes in your bedroom, amusement dancing in his eyes at the amount of stuffed animals you had and some framed photos of you as a child. 

“You decorate much better than me, and you’re a lot more organized, too. This place was such a mess back when I was still alive.”

There was an unmissable hint of sadness behind his voice, and you can’t help but ask his name. “I’m Satoru,” he grins, “and for the record, I’ve always been here, just floating through time and space, but not the afterworld yet. For some reason, ever since you arrived, I just appeared back where I left off.”

You nod and take in his words, noticing how he clears his throat and sends a sheepish look your way. “If it’s not too much of a bother, can I ask for your help?”

“What is it?”

He stands up and heads toward your desk, although you supposed it was his since the furniture had already been here before you came. You didn’t think too much about it back then and only felt grateful that you had one less piece of furniture to buy, especially since it was empty. Apparently not, because Satoru keeps digging around through your files with his tongue peeking out his lips, and you vaguely recall that ghosts are able to touch things after feeding off of energy from living beings.

Letting out an ‘aha!’ when his hand finally lands on what he’s looking for, he tenderly places a photo on your outstretched palm with a shy smile. Inside the photo was a beautiful man, probably in his mid twenties, his hair up in a messy bun as he grinned at the camera. Beside him, Satoru’s eyes are closed with his head thrown back in laughter, relishing the feeling of that warm sunny day, and you unconsciously frown at it.

“His name’s Suguru,” he began, his eyes turning glossy at the sight of the polaroid. “He was my best friend before I died.”

Pursing your lips and feeling the tension thicken the room, you ask him, “Why are you telling me this?”

“He’s the reason why I can’t go,” he admits, shoulders dropping while his eyes remain trained on her. “He blames himself for everything and refuses to accept that I’m gone, that’s why I’m still here.”

You remain silent and take a deep breath, your head pounding at the situation. It was a beautiful first night of winter, the perfect weather for you to do your work from home while nestling a cup of hot cocoa in your hands, yet it seems your plans changed and you have to help this ghost out. A part of you wants to reach out and embrace him in a hug, but you know you’ll only end up stumbling on your own feet and clearly, Satoru wants to move on to the next chapter of his journey.

“Can you please tell him I’m okay now?”

When he looks at you like that, shoulders hanging low and an almost shy smile decorating his innocent features, it’s hard to say no.

“I will.”

Through the past few weeks since you’ve met Satoru, your life seemed to light up like a Christmas tree without you noticing. He was a funny guy and often pulled pranks on you, like slamming the cabinets open and closed or leaving your window open in the middle of the night, laughing when you shout at him as your teeth chatter and you slam your windows shut. 

“I could have died from the cold, you idiot!”

He keeps laughing as if he didn’t nearly kill you with hypothermia, “Well, if you die, I guess we’ll be together then,” and even has the audacity to wiggle his eyebrows. You scowl at him and pull your jacket closer to your body, asking what he wants from you because he never goes this far to demand for your attention unless he wants something from you.

“What do you want this time?”

“I wanted to finish that series we were watching the other day,” he pouts rather childishly, “You always tell me not to watch it without you.”

On a particular weekend where you felt like your brains were about to explode from exhaustion due to your work piling up, you refused to wake up until noon, and you felt thankful Satoru knew how tired you were and let you have your much needed rest. When you woke up, a bowl of cereal was already waiting for you in your kitchen island, meaning the reason you felt tired even after that long slumber was because he fed off your energy to give you food.

Feeling thankful for the simple, sweet action, you munched on it happily. It wasn’t anything special and the corn flakes had gone too crusty for your liking, but Satoru’s happiness at you appreciating what he prepared was worth it. After breakfast, you dumped the bowl into the sink and planned to wash it later, opting to flick through Netflix for a good show. Satoru had excitedly pointed at one title that he said he’s always wanted to watch, and the two of you became hooked on it soon enough. Lunch and dinner were both forgotten as you two sat beside each other, your leg against his. Although you couldn’t exactly feel him, his presence was warm.

You and Satoru had been so immersed in the show and unexpected turn of events that time flew by and it was already half past three. He was the first to notice and he jumped from his seat, his hands waving worriedly in a comical manner. “I’m so sorry I made you skip your meals! Aren’t you hungry, you should have some pizza delivered or something.”

Glancing at the clock, you hummed when you realized it was indeed late. You weren’t feeling hungry since you were mostly abeyant, and nothing was open to deliver food around this time anyway. “It’s okay,” you shrug, “I’m not really hungry, and that show is addicting. Oh, and don’t watch it without me! I know you always go ahead when I’m not home!”

Satoru huffs and plops down next to you dramatically, rolling his eyes and taunting you. “Then don’t go to work, Little Miss Manager.”

You poke your finger with his forehead but it only passes through and he laughs, “I need money to survive, idiot.”

“Whatever,” he dismisses and points to your bedroom. “You’ve still got to edit your final draft, so you have to wake up early. Go to bed, don’t worry about the dish, I’ll handle it.”

“Liar, you’ll only feed from my energy so you can play video games!”

“Hey, you can’t blame me!” He counters back as he proceeds to your sink and pumps out soap to the sponge, “You were the one who bought me that console!”

“Only because you kept whining to me how much you wanted it,” you retorted before yawning, and his eyes softened at the sight of you. He rarely gets to see you dressed so comfortably in a loose shirt, cardigan and pajama pants since you were such a busy woman whose fashion sense monotonously consisted of pearl white button-up blouses and knee-length pencil skirts. Prudish and preppy, he thought, but it suits you just fine.  

“You should sleep now,” he reminds you with a nod of his head back to your bedroom, and you obey, simply because your eyes were sore and tired from binge watching. You’re in the process of cocooning yourself under the covers when he calls out in a sing-song voice, “Thank you for the console, by the way. I knew you couldn’t resist me.”

“Shut up!” You scream, and his rambunctious laugh was the last thing you heard before your body wholeheartedly welcomed sleep. 

You’ve been thinking about that day ever since, the moment replaying over and over again in your head, successfully distracting you from focusing on your work. Even your co-workers have noticed that you’re lusterlacking lately, but how could you focus on anything else when you had a charming yet lonely ghost who was waiting for you at home?

For days on end, you can only think about the cheerful and carefree sound of his laugh as if he had so much happiness in his lithe body that he couldn’t contain. Your heart always got tugged in its heartstrings whenever you had trouble falling asleep and he sat beside you in your bed, singing you lullabies and caressing your cheek. You started to feel him now – the gush of air in your skin meant he was pressing onto you, and the more you got attached to him, the more you got confused with your feelings.

He never told you how he was murdered and you never asked, figuring it would be too sensitive for him, and your hands balled into fists each time you remembered he was dead. Satoru is such a precious person who only has too much love to give, and it was completely unfair and outrageous that his life was taken away from him in a single flash. You’ve done your research at work, and only a few articles came up regarding his death. The case remains a mystery and still unsolved until it was completely closed due to lack of leads or suspects, but the police force highly suspected someone had broken in and committed homicide without theft, since not a single belonging of him got touched. They concluded that the murderer was drunk and lost, because he was a well-loved person in their campus, and they couldn’t find anyone who could possibly harbor abhorrence for the sweet boy.

But most of all, a part of you wants him to stay. He frequently asks you if you’ve talked to Suguru, and you always denied it, making up an excuse about how he was hard to find because he graduated years ago. ‘He’s hard to find,’ you would tell him one day, and ‘He doesn’t have social media,’ the next. Even though he told you he majored in Forensics, you couldn’t find anyone in the city. 

It’s a half lie. You never found Suguru, because you never looked for him in the first place.

You know it’s selfish of you to be this way, because you know Satoru wants to move on. He doesn’t say anything about it and keeps laughing instead, but sometimes when he thinks you’re too immersed in your work to notice him, you look at him. Being around you only reminds him of what he no longer has, and one look at him has you knowing he was someone who loved life. Satoru loved to travel with his friends, and he still had so many dreams left unfulfilled that made him feel empty yet desperate to be in the afterworld.

However, it is hard for you to let him go. 

No matter how much you try to fit in, deep inside, you know you will always be too different from the rest. You still struggled with socializing and didn’t have a single friend yet a hundred acquaintances, and you never realized how lonely you were until he came. His smile lit up the whole room and his laugh was melodious, and you don’t think you’ve ever met anyone who cared so much for you. He liked to play games and pull pranks on you quite often, but underneath all that lies a kind heart.

Satoru knows exactly when his jokes go too far and apologizes right away, promising not to do something to upset you again and always doing something entirely new to cheer you up. On nights where you’re feeling absolutely drained or you carried home your anger at your co-workers, you go to sleep without taking off your makeup. When you wake, there’s used wipes in the bin, the hovering boy in your apartment proud of his work. Sometimes you forget to cover yourself in blankets too, plopping on top of the sheets almost lifelessly. It’s in those times that he shows how much he cares for you, and you soon wake up feeling warm surrounded by heavy blankets and freshly cooked breakfast.

As much as you didn’t want to admit it, you were falling for him. It made interacting with him difficult, because you knew you had to let him go, yet you couldn’t.

He watches you carefully and gauges your reaction, waiting to see if you’ll finish the series with him or not. It’s a Wednesday night, or more accurately an early morning on Thursday and the launch happens in less than a week. Logically, it is much better to go back to sleep and refuse, but he is rocking his weight on his heels back and forth, and you realize perhaps he has been lonely since his death too.

“Fine,” you agree, and now he’s bouncing excitedly next to you on your couch as he keeps pressing buttons in your remote.

“You’re the best, you know that?” 

You only hum in response, and Satoru soon becomes lost in the show. Your eyes aren’t focused on the screen – on him rather. Placed on top of your fist lies your cheek as you study his side profile, trying to memorize the slope of his nose and the snow-white hair that keeps falling onto his eyes that makes him flip it to the side every now and then to watch the show. His right leg keeps bouncing up and down, a habit he had when he was anxiously anticipating something, and then stopping before his left leg went bouncing instead, meaning he didn’t like the situation.

Tearing your eyes away from him, you smile sadly when you realize his favorite character had been betrayed. “Did you see that? That freaking woman, he only loved her and she snitched him out like that?!”

Shrugging one shoulder and feeling your eyes become droopy, you reply, “Well, he’s a grave robber, Satoru, he was only nice to her because he liked her. She had every right to mislead him.”

“I don’t understand, but okay,” he relents and leans back, eyes closing before he intertwines his hands behind his neck and murmurs, “I hated the ending.”

“Not everyone gets happy endings,” you add grimly, watching the muscles underneath his hoodie flex at your comment. The two of you remain silent for a few minutes, and plucking up the courage, you breathe in sharply before slowly lowering yourself until your head is on his shoulder. 

You keep yourself still in order not to fall, and your eyes remain fixated on his hand, silently yearning to be able to touch him. If he was alive, would his skin be as warm as his presence? His hand flexes and trails from his lap until it’s beside yours, and you hear him swallow audibly before locking your fingers with his.

A tear falls down your face. You could feel him. 

Satoru hums a familiar tune, and you chuckle happily when you recognize it’s the song he always sings to you to make you sleep, his fingers rubbing soothing circles on your knuckles.

His other hand tilts your chin upwards until you’re looking directly at his eyes. You hold in your breath, his lips only a centimeter away from yours. If you lean forward, you could kiss him… but you don’t. 

“Why are you crying?”

Because I don’t want you to go.

“Nothing,” you lie and offer a forced smile which he notices, but doesn’t comment about it. “I just feel happy.”

He nods slowly before leaning forward, and he gets so close that you can faintly see his freckles that dot across his cheeks lovingly, and your eyes flutter shut when his lips press against yours. Satoru sighs as if he’s been waiting too long to do that, and he is pushing against you so softly, so tenderly, that it almost fits the same atmosphere your heart creates. He is soft in everything he does, from his innocent features and smile that puts the stars to shame, to how he holds you and caresses you. His hand trails from your neck to pull you closer, and you moan when his tongue peeks out and playfully coaxes yours out to play. Tears are streaming down your face when you kiss him back slowly, tongues moving in sync as they danced harmoniously instead of battling each other for dominance. Caressing your face that fits perfectly in his hand, he brushes away your tears with the pad of his thumbs. 

A moment passes before you two are breathing heavily with your foreheads pressed against each other, and the silence is broken when he speaks, his voice coming out raspy and out of breath. 

“Suguru… has been struggling long before I died.”

“What?”

“My best friend… he got into a rough patch. Had troubles with his parents, went down the wrong path, and met dangerous people. I’d heard rumors he was going around skipping class and talking to people I’ve never seen before, but I chose to ignore it. Suguru would’ve told me everything once he was ready. And I was stupid, you know? I saw it. I saw how he stopped smiling, how he’d lost weight. How his eyes no longer looked happy,” Satoru’s hands trembled, the blue of his eyes hauntingly dark. “One night, I overheard him talking to someone on the phone. I’ve never heard him that angry, and I got worried. I wanted to stop him from whatever he’ll end up doing so I invited him over but… Next thing I know, he came over here, drunk and high, and stabbed me until I bled to death.”

You gasp and shudder as you imagine the scene, Satoru lying on his bed as he waited anxiously for his friend. You see him smiling at Suguru excitedly because he’d actually come, but fear replaces it when his friend succumbs to the madness. The image of Satoru drowning in his own pool of blood made you clench your jaw.

“There had to be evidence left.”

Satoru smiles sadly as if to tell you it doesn’t bother him anymore, but you can’t shake it off. How can a man be so blinded in his own misery that he could take his own best friend’s life? “He was a forensics major; he knew how to cover up his crime.”

A pregnant pause fills the room as you furrow your brows, the sound of the cold wind tapping against your windows as you rack your head to make a decision. Now that you knew the truth, you had to tell the police about it, but how would they believe you if there was no evidence found? And if the case was cleared, and Suguru had finally moved on, that means...

“You can ask me to stay.”

“What?” You breathe out, looking at his eyes with sadness pooling in them. He’s smiling, one that doesn’t quite reach his eyes. You pull away from him completely until he’s at an arm’s length away. He doesn’t look hurt by your action but he sighs, reaching out for you and pausing with his hand mid-air when you raise a palm to stop him.

He must’ve known you’re in love with him. Just as he also knows that once he leaves, you’ll be hurt, and he doesn’t want you to feel that.

You shake your head and stand up harshly. The tears now uncontrollable as you slam your bedroom door to his face. You’re slightly thankful he doesn’t come after you and leaves you alone instead. You needed time. Time to think, time to put his needs over yours - time to forget him. Rummaging through the documents on your desk, you keep looking for it until the polaroid is clutched between your fingers, and you silently place it in your handbag.

Tomorrow, you would set things straight.

Suguru Geto was a hard man to find. He’d fled from the spotlight as one of the  best students of his university after Satoru Gojo’s death. The image of his best friend, who was always in high spirits and laughed without a care in the world, covered in his own blood was a sight that scarred him for the rest of her life. 

But there was one more person who hadn’t moved on from that night.

Ieri Shoko, the woman who ran first at the hospital when Satoru’s parents were away for a business trip. She didn’t want to believe it at first. Satoru had always seemed so full of life, so in love with what the world had to offer. He’d been so young – it just couldn’t be. They had to be lying, right?

But when she finally saw her friend’s bloodied corpse on that cold hospital bed, she’d fallen apart.

She went to sleep crying to herself every night, regretting and blaming everything on herself. Her instinct told her it was Suguru who had done this to him. She barged into his dorm room, screaming and flailing, punching the taller man and effectively breaking his nose as she dragged him down by the collar. Suguru was already questioned by the police after Satoru’s murder, but his alibi of being in a bar was factual, and they had proven his innocence after checking surveillance cameras. He was only gone for a few minutes before he appeared on the dance floor all over again, and they believed him when he said he only disappeared to go to the restroom.

Presumably to wash the blood off his hands.

Shoko didn’t believe it. “Tell me you didn’t kill him, tell me!”

Suguru growls, frustrated at her for even accusing him of doing such a horrendous thing, and he feigns his innocence as he pries her hands away from his collar. “I didn’t do it, Ieri, I was at a bar!”

“Bullshit!” She screams, slamming a vase onto the floor and dropping down to the floor as sobs wrecked through her body. “I smelled your perfume the moment I walked in. I know it was you…”

His eyes widened, but he remained silent because she had always been smart and too observant for her own good. He shrugs his collar back into place and goes back to his bedroom, but not before darkly muttering, “I didn’t do it, I didn’t kill him…”

Four years later, and you’re sitting in front of Officer Kento, an intimidating man with empty eyes staring at you hardly, his face devoid of any emotion. He’d been the same officer who worked on Satoru’s case before it was closed. “And why should I believe you? Ghosts don’t exist.”

You snap your head up from your lap to him and scowl, “I just want to help you here, Officer.  You need to re-open this case.”

He abruptly stands up and slams his palm harshly against the desk, his eyes filled with rage as he stares down at you. “You don’t think I haven’t tried before?!”

“Well then, try harder!” You fumed, standing up. “If you don’t resolve this case, he’s going to remain here forever, lost and nowhere to go. Do you really want him to suffer even after his death?”

“How am I supposed to believe everything you say is true?”

Plucking out their polaroid from your bag and shoving it to his chest, you watch as he crumbles piece by piece. He holds the photo tentatively before cradling it to his chest, and what you presumed was a cold-hearted man was actually just a lost person.

“I don’t know why you closed that case, but it isn’t over. He’s still here, and he needs our help.”

You turn away from him to give him peace and wrap your fingers around the doorknob, “Suguru Geto is out there walking freely. You can still make a difference, Sir. It’s not too late.”

Happiness was a concept you believed to be fleeting.

One moment, you are giggling with the ghosts who tell you funny stories and whisper mischievously in your ear the correct answers in your pre-school days, and the next moment you are pressing a hand against your car windows, watching as the only people you considered friends are witnessing you leave without a goodbye.

That feeling comes back again and again, from little moments such as eating lunch with your high school friends and making empty promises to keep in touch after graduation, giggling when a cute boy comes by and asks for your number. But like any other moment in your life where you feel happy, that feeling dissipates as fast as it came.

The bell attached to the door chimes to signal a customer, and the cute florist you met on the first day you moved to this city, Choso, looks up from the pot he’s currently watering. Bowing politely, he sends a pleased smile upon the sight of you.

You tuck a stray hair behind your ear and return the smile back, his musky perfume blending in well with the sweet aroma of flowers as he stops in front of you. “Hi, I haven’t seen you in a long time.”

“I’m sorry,” you apologize sheepishly, “Our latest branch just opened downtown, so I was a bit busy with that.”

“Oh, you work for that bookshop everyone’s been talking about non-stop?” You nod and laugh at his question, proud of yourself that the new opening had been successful. The state campus was only three bus rides away, and with the extensive amount of books your bookstore offered, along with its affordable prices, everyone’s been talking about it. “I’m proud of you, it was a success,” he commends, rubbing his dirties hands on his apron before opening the door for you. What can I get you?”

Personally, you thought Choso was a bit too rugged to be working in a floral shop. He always seemed to carry himself in such an awkward manner and had an authoritative yet welcoming aura to him, his shy smiles the highlights of your day. “I want to give it to my friend. Today’s their special day.”

“I see,” Choso’s eyes are already scanning the plethora of flowers he has in his shop, his brows pinching together in thought. “Can you tell me a little bit about them? It’d help to make their bouquet more personal.”

A smile makes its way to your face. “They’re… bright, carefree, innocent, and pure. They almost seem like an angel, if you ask me. I was also thinking about something that represents young love, and… new beginnings?”

You have absolutely no idea what you’re saying. The words coming out of your mouth are beyond your control. You’re sure you’re making a fool out of yourself, but Choso nods understandingly, frows burrowed before he snaps his fingers and turns to you. “White roses describe all of those, but if you want, I can whip up more flowers for you.”

He makes a move to get his scissors and starts listing off flowers with the same meanings, but you run up to him and not so accidentally wrap your hands around his to get him to stop. His eyes widen at your close proximity. You clear your throat and take a step backward, fighting the urge to smile when his cheeks are dusted a fine pink. “White roses itself are fine, thank you.”

He gulps and heads towards the back door, coming out later with a bouquet of white roses. You reach for your wallet before his arm wraps around your wris, his smile wobbly and hesitant. “It’s on the house. You can pay me back with a cup of coffee next time.”

Eyebrows rising at his smoothness, you gratefully accept the flowers and cradle it near to your chest. “A cup of coffee it is.”

Choso chuckles shyly and ducks his head, and you leave the shop with a wave of your hand before walking further and further. Your surroundings shift from the high-rise building and busy streets to a hill covered in trees sprawled out everywhere, flowers blooming and withering at every corner. Sitting down on the soil with your legs crossed, you place the bouquet in front of his headstone, his framed polaroid with Suguru standing in front of you. 

It’s been exactly seven days since you last saw Satoru.

After countless sleepless nights of phone calls from Officer Kento, he’d finally cracked the case with your help. Suguru Geto was found. He’d confessed to all his crimes, his handsome face weary yet relieved. It seemed he’d never once forgotten about that night when he betrayed his friend, and just before he was ushered behind bars, he turned to you. You wished you felt anger towards him for what he did, but there was only sadness. Only regret in his eyes. He looked so tired, so hopeless.

“Thank you,” he said softly, “Thank you for finding me.”

A nod was all you could give. Suguru felt so familiar, yet so strange. You’ve heard tons of stories about him from Satoru, all about their happiest moments together. He’d been his closest friend, the one he shared so many dreams with, and the one who knew him the most. Maybe he knew Satoru wouldn’t fight back once his demons consumed him. Maybe when Suguru was holding his friend’s bloodied hand in the night, he knew – Satoru was never mad at him. He only wanted to save his friend. Maybe he knew Satoru wasn’t completely dead yet, not when he lived in everyone’s heart, and most especially yours.

That night when you returned home, the apartment felt colder than ever. Normally, it would mean a ghost lingered. But there was no longer the sound of Satoru’s humming, and the dishes were left half-washed in your sink. And for the first time in your life, you hated your eyes and how it gave you the ability to see the traces he left behind. 

Because you wished you had enough time to say goodbye. You wish you had told him everything, but the thought of being another tether to the living realm weighed down on you. You couldn’t do that to him. He had to go. For Satoru to truly move into the next life, you had to close your heart and forget him. Just as Suguru’s forgiven himself, and just as Shoko’s accepted her friend’s death - you too had to say goodbye. 

Tears clouded your vision.

The white remnants of his soul sparkled in your apartment. For the last time, you watched as the blue of his hoodie finally disappeared, his hands scrubbing your dishes away fading into nothingness. The plate drops and breaks. Satoru stood, his legs vanishing bit by bit as he saw the running water through his hands. He’d wanted to return your apartment to the way it was before he’d met you, but he knew – his time was running out. He didn’t have energy left to turn everything off.

The water floods your apartment. The new series he’d dearly loved still plays on the TV. 

But he was here – hugged by the earth and decorated with flowers, smiling at you from far away even when you could no longer see him. Placing the bouquet of white roses down at his grave, you smiled at the photo they’d taken months before he died. He still looked just as beautiful – all wide smiles, kind eyes, and soft hands.

To you, he was still alive in your heart.

“I’ll see you around, Satoru.”

[luxaofhesperides]

the beginning - danny

0.

The Lazarus Pit brings Danny back.

The child who went into them, however, is gone forever.

Danyal al Ghul is the soul who should reside in this body. Danyal has a life still to live and Danny died ages ago, old and surrounded by loved ones, ready to spend the rest of his forever in the Infinite Realms.

Something's gone terrible wrong, he thinks rather wryly, squinting through the cold green water that surrounds him. An ache echoes through his body and he brings a hand—small, a child's hand that shouldn't belong to him— to his stomach, where he can feel a large wound slowly pull itself together.

Did I get stabbed?

He means to continue the thought, but a sharp pain hits his head, making him curl up. He gasps and air bursts from his lungs, water rushing to fill in the empty space. Danny chokes, panicking, as memories slide into place, the lives of Danyal al Ghul and Danny Fenton fighting for dominance in his head. His lungs burn, throat working futilely to push water out, but there's nothing to be done.

Danny is a child again, and just like last time, he dies young.

1. So.

Assassins.

Danny honestly can't tell if this is a step up or a step down from mad scientist parents. On the one hand: he knows they loved him, as clumsy as it was, even though they loved their work more. On the other hand: assassin cult sounds like something out of a fairy tale, and while cool, is definitely not safe for kids.

And Danny, somehow, is a child again.

This really wasn't what he expected when he woke up on the sandy bottom of the pit. He's in ghost form, which is an unpleasant shock, but at least its familiar.

He is also, if his memory as Danyal serves him correctly, nine years old.

Kinda sucks that he died so young this time round. Didn't even make it to the double digits before he was taken out of the running.

He can't remember what it was like being so small in his last life. He can't imagine how anyone would look at a child and run them through with a sword. It's a cruel world he's woken up in. It's made worse by the fact that he's alone.

At least being down here without needing to breathe is giving him valuable time to think.

Danny has lived a full life already. He didn't really need or want another one, content to be a full ghost in the Infinite Realms. But going back isn't really an option, now that he's in a new body. The kid he could have been deserves to live fully, and the least Danny can do is live that life for them.

It'll be hard, but Danny's sure he can manage a decent life for himself.

Being presumed dead will make his escape from the assassins easier, though he'll miss getting the chance to meet his new mother; assassin as she is, Danyal knows her not by her blades but by her soft lullabies and jasmine-scented hair. The loss of her child must be hurting her deeply, but it's necessary. If Danny wants any semblance of a normal life, he has to leave her behind.

Besides, he's seen enough death. He doesn't want to ever be the cause of it.

So, he needs a plan for this new life.

Step one: get out of dodge.

The rest he'll figure out on the way.

2.

Turns out assassins weren't the most shocking thing in this new life.

No, that honor goes to superheroes.

Genuine, honest to God superheroes! With powers and everything!

To think that Danny once called himself a superhero. Ha! As if! He's nothing compared to the likes of Superman or the Flash or even Green Lantern. They're in another league. Literally. They're part of the Justice League, which has a whole slew of other heroes, and Danny is possibly their biggest fan.

Not like that's weird; most people in this world are huge fans of superheroes. Makes sense, since they're the ones who rely on their protection the most.

It does suck to know that his background belongs to that of a villain. Assassins aren't known for saving people, after all.

Part of him contemplates becoming a hero again, taking up the role of Phantom and joining the ranks of Superman. But he's had many years to come to terms with the loss of his teenage years and the bitterness that came with it. That experience, that life once lived, helps him decide each time that being a civilian is the gift this life owes him.

At thirteen, Danny lives in a foster home with six other kids. He's the oldest and has his hands full taking care of everyone else while their foster parents work three jobs between them to keep them all afloat.

When his younger siblings play superheroes, he gladly takes the role of the villain, swooping in with a blanket to kidnap away an innocent bystander that has to be rescued. He falls over dramatically at the end of each fight and praises his siblings' strength and teamwork, making them puff up with pride.

It's all fun and games so long as it only stays fun and games.

Superpowers are cool and all, but his came at the cost of his life, his health, his future. He knows, better than anyone, the price of being a hero. He knows that even Superman carries heavy losses on his shoulders, struggles under burdens no one can see.

He's lucky that the small town he ended up in—Luray, Virginia—has no heroes or villains. Too small a place to be on anyone's radar, apparently.

His classmates often complain about how they wish they could live in a big city where there's more to do, more to see, superheroes flying through the streets to protect them.

Danny is happy where he is. It's quiet, and small, and nothing like what he's used to, but it's safe.

That's all he really wants.

3.

Here's something that stays the same no matter what world he's in: Danny is a magnet for trouble.

If the trouble stopped at bullies, everything would have been fine. Danny could handle Dash, and he could handle Justin just as easily.

But the universe loves to escalate with Danny, specifically, which is why Danny had to reveal his powers when some villain-wannabe school shooter attacked his high school.

And to think he felt bad for Jackson when he didn't make it onto the track team.

Luray does not have a meta population. They're too small to have much of a population at all, and much of it is white which made him, half-Iranian, stand out even before he threw out a barrier of ice to protect his classmates a second before the gunfire began.

"Danny?!" his seatmate, Clarrissa, cries out in alarm.

"Everyone get out the window and run for it!" he orders, "I hold him back as much as I can!"

"You can't stay here!"

"Don't worry," Danny says, offering her a tight smile. "He couldn't kill me even if he tried. Now go!"

His classmates hadn't wasted any more time, sending him shocked looks as they escaped the classroom. A glimpse of his reflection in the window revealed glowing green eyes and blue mist wafting out of his mouth.

Looks like his time in Luray is up. He hopes his foster siblings won't be too mad at him for running away.

The gunfire stops, and Danny takes his chance to leap through his ice, intangible, and tackle Jackson, easily knocking the gun away from him.

"Monster!" Jackson spits at him, and Danny laughs.

"Bold of you to say that. I'm not to one trying to kill people."

He doesn't want to hear anything else that comes out of Jackson's mouth, so he knocks the guy out with a solid hit to a pressure point on his neck. Hopefully that'll keep him down long enough for the cops to get him.

Danny stands and means to leave, but something hits the back of his head hard and he's out before he realizes what's happened.

When he wakes up, he's strapped down to a table in what is undeniably a lab, and sighs.

At least he made it to sixteen before he went into another lab. Maybe in his next life he might even get all the way up to twenty before he's pulled back down here.

4. Though he has all his powers and a ghost form, that doesn't mean he is a ghost in this life.

No, he's fully a meta, which means meta-suppressing cuffs work on him.

It's not exactly a discovery he was hoping to have while locked up in a lab, but it's what he's got, so he has to roll with it. The cuffs are heavy on his wrists and around his throat, keeping him from escaping as a group of people in masks and lab coats bustle around, ignoring him.

His head is still foggy, though likely more from the drugs than the hit he took to his head.

He doesn't bothering talking to any of them; they don't see him as human, and Danny's dealt with enough of that in his past life.

Mad scientists love to talk though, so he still hears the gist of their plans: recreating the meta gene for normal people, making a profit from selling powers, getting rich and famous from their accomplishments. They had been using Jackson to get corpses for human testing, but they got Danny instead — someone they can harvest bio material for, a much better find than a couple dead kids.

If he had the energy to rage, Danny would have killed everyone in the room already. They planned to kill his classmates just for test subjects.

He doesn't want to be an assassin, but he'd gladly lean into those old lessons to make sure they never hurt anyone again.

But the cuffs and drugs do a good job of keeping him docile, barely able to think, as they transport him around to different locations and cut him open.

He's not sure how long it's been when they ease up on the drugs a bit. It still takes time for his body to work through everything, and he comes too with a throat that's dry and a stomach that hasn't had anything in it for quite some time.

The first thing Danny does when they start asking him questions is throw up on them.

If they wanted cooperation, they should have treated him better. This is fully on them.

It makes for a convincing argument for food and water and a bathroom break, at least, so he gets what he demands and takes care of his human body under the cold gazes of three scientists.

"You guys suck," he says conversationally. "Keeping test subjects alive is like basic knowledge. No wonder y'all suck at your jobs."

"Your comments aren't needed," one of the scientists says primly. "Get up. We need to study how using your powers affects your body."

They hook a bunch of different things onto him, then lock him in a glass cage and use the cuff around his throat to send jolts of electricity through him when he doesn't do anything. He throws a chunk of ice at them, watching as it breaks apart into small pieces when it hits the glass. The scientists scribble in their notepads, and when they look at him again, he flips them off.

He gets shocked again, but it's worth it.

The process repeats for another few hours, then he's pulled out of the cage, gets an IV stuck in his arm, and drops off into drugged oblivion before he has time to start throwing hands.

5.

It must have been months. Danny's not sure; it's hard to keep track of time when locked in isolation.

He knows he's fed at least once a day. He's been getting a tray of bland food at random times, but he's counted over 50 trays sliding through the little slot on the bottom of his cell door.

Turns out insulting scientists and their procedures is a bad idea, especially when he has the language to really bruise their egos.

So.

Isolation sucks.

But at least they don't drug him anymore!

The cuffs do their job of keeping him in place, and if he didn't have memories of another life to keep him company, he definitely would have lost his mind long ago.

There's other people in here, other metas. He's heard them screaming and begging for mercy. He's heard them go chillingly quiet. He wonders why there are so many superheroes in this world when not a single one has come to save them.

Surely at least one would notice metas disappearing and would investigate?

But no.

No one ever comes to save them.

So Danny needs to figure out a way past the cuffs, and then he can be Phantom again long enough to free the other metas and make every scientist involve pay for their crimes.

He just needs to wait.

He just needs—

6.

When Danny wakes up, the alarms are ringing. It makes his head pound, throbbing with each piercing sound.

He stumbles up, using the wall to keep his balance, and freezes when he sees that the door to his cell is open.

…Huh.

The hallway is bathed in red light when he steps out. No one's around. He wanders around the facility, searching for answers and only finds more questions.

There are other cells, also empty. Certain rooms have blood splattered across the walls and the floor, but no bodies. Labs are destroyed, broken glass on the floor. But every room is empty.

He wanders until he finds what must be a security room. There's a strange device dangling off a keychain on a rack, and Danny eyes it curiously. He runs his fingers around the cuff on his throat, feels the little depression where the collar comes together, and takes the rounded device. If it doesn't work, then it doesn't work.

But if it does work…

The cuff pops open easily, as if it hasn't been his greatest foe these past few months.

All at once, his strength returns to him. He has forgotten what it was like to breathe easily, to feel his powers come to his call so easily, to be reassured that he can take care of himself.

It's almost like coming back to life.

He transforms, settling back into his ghost form with relief, and flies through the facility in search of any other metas that may need help. He finds no one, but he does catch a glimpse of the outside.

The sky is so blue it almost hurts to look at. Part of the facility has been blown apart; rubble surrounds the place and the surrounding forest has been flattened. It looks as though a fight has moved through the area.

Maybe a superhero did come to save them? Rude of them to leave only Danny, though.

He continues his search, poking his head into different rooms and hallways. He finds a staircase going down and follows it into the basement. More labs greet him, and the glow of computers and strange vials of liquid leave him unsettled.

There's a green glow coming around the corner than reminds him of the Lazarus Pit he flew out of, once upon a time many years ago, and that's what draws him forward.

Tucked away in that familiar glow is a small body, floating in a tube of liquid. There's an oxygen mask attached to her face, but that doesn't stop Danny from recognizing her.

"Ellie?"

7.

Just like in one life, Danny is cloned. The difference is that this time, there's no reason for it, no insane godfather trying to recreate a version of him that will choose him.

No, this time it's from a group of scientists who should have known better, who decided to mess around with his genes, and brought his once little sister now daughter into such a cruel, dangerous world.

Danny barely remembers breaking the glass to get her out of there. He doesn't know where he found the coat to bundle her up in, flying out of the facility as fast as he could. He feels sick, knowing it's his fault that she's here now, forced into a painful, terrifying existence because he wasn't strong enough to save himself.

He's a runaway meta victim of mad science. He can't take care of her.

"I'm sorry, Ellie," he whispers to her, pressing a kiss against her head. "I'm so sorry."

She small in his arms. She barely weighs anything.

Danny blinks back tears and tries to find some place he can stop and rest, somewhere safe he can gather his thoughts and figure out his next steps.

This isn't like when he first woke up in this world, with both sets of memories.

This is Ellie.

She deserves more than just a wish and a half-baked plan for a better life.

She deserves a family that wants her, that can care for her, that can protect her. She deserves to grow up normally and not worry about destabalizing or being a replacement for him or being hunted down.

She deserves one life to be a kid and grow up safe and be whoever she wants to be.

Danny will never be able to give her that.

But maybe he can give her to someone who can.

8.

Danyal grew up with an assassin mother and a cruel grandfather who expected far too much from a child. He was taught to kill and be more weapon than child. He was taught the world was something for him to take, to protect, to water with blood.

Danyal was meant to be the next Demon Head, and the next Bat.

Danny knows he can't go to his mother. If they're both lucky, he will never have to see her again. Knowing his luck, he's already planning explanations for why he never went back to her.

Danny's father, on the other hand…

It didn't take much to put the pieces together. The notorious Bat is Batman, Gotham's vigilante and one of the founders of the Justice League. While a child would have been left confused by the many comments his mother made about his father, it was simple enough for Danny to line them up with what he learned about the heroes of this world and realize, oh, that's my dad.

It takes a few weeks of research, using public libraries with Ellie tucked securely in a wrap to his chest, but he's able to learn more about Batman.

The most important thing being that he has kids.

Of course, none of this is officially acknowledged, but everyone knows that the Robins are his kids. Current Robin, especially, likes to remind people that he's 'the son of Batman'.

Okay. Cool.

Danny has siblings.

Awesome.

He's… not looking forward to those conversations.

At least it means more people to look after Ellie. Assuming they take her in, which Danny's really hoping for.

But it's the best he can do, so Danny sets course for Gotham and hopes that just this once, everything will work out.

9.

Meeting the Bats of Gotham is a lot harder than he expected.

A week in the city and he's barely caught more than a glimpse of them. He can't dedicate a lot of time to tracking them down either, needing to break into grocery stores to get food for him and Ellie.

She's so quiet as a baby, and it terrifies him. She's only cried twice the entire time he's had her, and Danny spends every day begging her to hold on.

Time during the day is spent catching naps and researching common vigilante spotting areas in Gotham. He's got a map of Gotham taken from a library and has been steadily marking it up, putting stars in the best places to find a Bat. There are places all over the city, and Danny has no idea how to know which ones are the best.

The only thing he can do is wait at a different rooftop each night, clinging to Ellie, wondering if this is the last night he has with her.

On the ninth night, someone finally arrives.

"Step away from the edge," a voice demands.

Danny turns to see Robin approaching, hands held out as if to catch him. He's bigger than Danny was expecting. Which makes sense; most of the stories Danny got online are from when Robin was a kid, and it's been a few years since then. He must be a teenager now. Older, but still young.

"Robin," he manages to say, his throat tightening. It feels almost like there's a noose around it. It feels like that meta-suppressing cuff has clicked back into place, leaving him helpless.

"Step away from the edge," Robin repeats. "There is no need for this to be your last resort."

"But it is," Danny whispers.

Robin darts forward and wraps a hand around Danny's wrist, yanking him towards the center of the roof. "Why on Earth would you come up here? Surely you must have known that someone would stop you."

"Batman," he gets out. "I need to speak to Batman."

"What for?"

"I'm… I was told, once, that I'm his son."

10. Robin stares at him for a long moment.

Then he takes off his mask.

Danny knows those eyes: he sees them every time he looks in a mirror.

"Danyal," Robin breathes. "You died before I was born."

"I did. Are you…?"

"Mother told me about you."

So he has a little brother. If only he hadn't left first chance he got, he could have known his little brother, gotten away from that place before it hurt him too. Danny has made many mistakes since he arrived in this world. Missing a little brother is perhaps the worst of them.

"Mother…" Danny repeats. "She put me in the Lazarus Pit. I remember that. She didn't want me to die."

"I was born to replace you."

Just like Ellie.

So many mistakes repeating. He's never felt like more of a failure.

"Batman. Our father. He treats you well? You are safe with him?"

Robins brows furrow, but he nods, which is enough for Danny. "Yes. Of course. Isn't that why you're here now?"

"I'm not asking for me." Danny carefully, gently, unwraps Ellie. "I'm asking for her. Please, take care of her. She deserves more than I can give her. Ellie… she'd be your niece."

Robin's eyes are wide. He's frozen until Danny pushes Ellie against his chest, forcing him to lift his arms to hold her.

"Wait, what about—?"

When Robin looks up, Danny's already gone.

It's for the best.

(masterpost for all parts)

[imsofreakingtired]

ok since the people are asking for a sequel to this fic... i must deliver 🫡

crawling back to you

content warning(s): angst - buT THERES A HAPPY ENDING I SWEAR

"crawlin' back to you, ever thought of callin' when you've had a few? 'cause i always do maybe i'm too busy being yours to fall for somebody new."

~~~

Sevika catches you halfway back to the apartment. You are bathed in the neon light of the sign of the Last Drop several steps ahead, making you feel like a hologram. That might have been all you were to Sevika. A hologram. Something pleasant to look at, not tempting enough to touch.

“Baby,” she says, “let me explain.” 

She’s not even out of breath. Your world is falling apart and she probably just decided to walk leisurely after you, as if you barely mattered more than just another one of her girls. 

You avoid her gaze. “I thought you were busy tonight.” 

“I am,” she snaps. “This is ridiculous.” 

You’re silent.

“Did you actually think I was going to Babette's every night? You think I’d lie to you that way?” 

“I don't know,” you hiss. “Would you?” 

You know people are overhearing the two of you, but your anger bubbles over like a boiling vat of undiluted Shimmer. Sevika glares down at you, and you feel a twist in your heart. This is the end of everything. Even though she’s the one at fault, she’s the one with the records in Babette’s and not you, you feel like you’re the one pulling all the wrong strings. 

Your question hurts her more than she would ever let on. Of all the people who’d accuse her of lying, she never thought the dagger would be driven home by you. She wants to tell you she’s sorry, that she doesn’t know why she went into the arms of a stranger rather than risk being vulnerable to you. She wants to tell you all she was trying to do was protect you from her. She wants to ask: if she showed you the cracks in her skin where she’d broken and put herself together again, would you still stay?

But she can’t, because now there’s a wall of ice between you and you are already turning away. This time, she doesn’t follow. 

When she comes home late that night, the apartment is empty. 

~~~

You have found a small, run-down inn where the rats skitter beneath the floorboards and the water doesn’t run half the time, and you’ve sworn every single person you know to secrecy regarding your whereabouts. Every day that goes by feels heavier without Sevika. 

You smoke Shimmer vaporizers to escape the lonely silence of the room, you find work in a scrap metal shop and spend every waking minute of the day trying not to miss her. Trying not to fall into that endless pit of remorse. Go back, go back, get the fuck back and apologize. She was a mess when you met her. You know she can’t live without you. You’re terrified she might do something dangerous and reckless to herself, that she might hurt herself or worse. You find yourself wondering at night if she had eaten dinner or if she had just gone to sleep after a smoke and a shot of whiskey. You have nightmares of seeing her dead at your feet. 

One night it rains like Zaun has never seen before. It’s like the sky has opened up like a wailing mouth, or a gaping wound. Torrents of rainwater rush between buildings and submerge basements. It’s a night no one in their right mind would ever bother going out in. 

So of course that’s the night you hear the banging on your door. 

You open it, a broken bottle in hand, ready for a threat. You think it could be the manager, a sneaking thief who stealthily raises the price of the rooms with each passing week. 

Instead you see Sevika. 

Her prosthetic arm is detached and she isn’t wearing her cloak. Her hair is plastered wetly against her face. Her clothes are drenched. 

Your first thought: is she out of her mind?

Your second: oh my gods. She’s lost her mind.

“How did you know I was here?” You demand loudly. “Are you trying to catch your death?” 

The second part of the sentence comes out as instinct, and you’re embarrassed but it’s too late. Her brows were knit together like thunderclouds, but her expression softens slightly when she hears the concern in your voice. She had been preparing herself for anything. She was convinced you had already found someone new, and were living with them. Now there’s hope. You might still care about her. 

“Get the fuck in here,” you snap, grabbing her by the arm and pulling her into the room as if she’s a misbehaving child. You yank the moth-eaten sheets off the bed and throw them around her shoulders. “Are you drunk? Why aren’t you saying anything?” 

Fear pierces through your irritation. Has something happened? Is she sick? Is she running from something?

Sevika looks down at you, watching wordlessly as you try to rub the water off her skin. When you let go of her, she lets the sheets fall to the floor. 

You throw your hands up helplessly. “What are you doing here? Who told you I was here?” 

“You think I needed a gingerbread trail to find you?” 

You fall quiet, cursing yourself inwardly. Sevika probably knew where you were since the day you left. 

You know why she’s here. You can see it in her eyes, where all her unspoken emotions betray her. But she can’t translate them into words. She can’t say the words you need to hear. 

You sit down on the bed with a heavy sigh. The room is silent but for the sound of dripping water. Finally you speak. 

“Babette says you only went there once.” You look at her. “Why?” 

She looks down. “I was drunk.” 

“You gonna use that excuse every time from now on?”

“No,” she says sharply. “I thought—I thought I didn’t have you anymore.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” 

She shakes her head, frustrated. “I don’t know. I don’t know, I just—I—” 

She comes forward suddenly, and you instinctively draw back, thinking she might hit something. There’s a desperate look in her face that you’ve never seen before. But she doesn’t raise her hand. She kneels on the floor in front of you. 

“Sevika, what—?”

“Take me back,” she pleads, her voice rough. “I swear it’ll never happen again, so—take me back.” 

You try to stay angry. You try to push her away. But when you look in her dark grey eyes and see the tears standing on the lashes, you find you can’t do either. You feel the heat of her body against your knees, and as you slowly remove the string tying her hair and run your fingers through the wet strands you realize with a pang just how badly you missed her. 

Sevika gives a sigh and lays her head down in your lap. 

“You’re not entirely forgiven yet,” you tell her. 

“I know,” she says, her voice muffled. 

It’s as close as she’ll ever come to saying she’s sorry. You think it’s not a bad start. 

~~~

note: your honor she is just a sad wet puppy in the rain and has done nothing wrong in her life ever 😭🙏

~~~

taglist~

@notlores @demothers-empty-blog @theyluvbix @archangeldyke-all @prettyinpink69 @beatdariceee @sevikaaaalover @intrnetrbl @ 00valentina-writes00  @zelluna @mamas-evil-hag @sevikassluttywaist @justhereforsubsevika @iliterallyhavenoideawhattosay @lez-zuha @mascdom @tiyawnyana  

[bootsukki]

operation: does tsukki like (y/n)?

hinata never meant to hit you in the face. it just... happened. you were walking into the gym holding a bag of clean uniforms when one of his spikes when extremely out of hand and instead of aiming for tsukishima's block, the ball landed on your face with a loud "smack!".

the ball ricocheted off your face with a thud and you stumbled backwards, your hands clutching your nose.

"oh my, (y/n)!" hinata panicked, running over to your side, but before he could even reach you, a large hand grabbed his shoulder and pushed him away.

"move," hinata stopped at the sight of tsukishima crouched beside you, his hands grabbing the back of your neck to check any possible injures with a look of actual concern, deep frown of his brows and eyes looking all over your face. "does it hurt anywhere? let me see your nose."

everybody in the gym blinked. even the first years who were scared of tsukishima were whispering about it: about the fact that he, the oh so stoic and angry tsukishima kei was softly checking on you, the sweet and lovely manager. tsukishima never talked to people like... that. he barely looked like he cared about anything or anyone but there he was, touching your face like you were made of the most precious material of the world.

hinata turned around, walking outside the gym as if he had just discovered the most scandalous secret.

tsukishima likes (y/n).

does he? well, he doesn’t know for sure! but that was something!

and so, the operation: does tsukki like (y/n)? was born. well, after a few text messages to a group he made without you or tsukki of course, texting everything to his three other friends that had missed practice today because of math tutoring.

step one: gather reinforcements.

that same night, an emergency meeting was scheduled in kageyama's house with kageyama, yamaguchi and yachi.

"i need to find out if tsukki actually likes her," hinata stated, hands on his hips as he tried to find ways to possibly catch the couple together.

"i mean... is that really necessary?" kageyama added, looking at a youtube video on his phone. "i don't think they are dating."

"why?"

"(y/n) is too sweet and tsukishima, well... he's my friend but..."

"hey!" yachi said. "tsukishima is great. he's smart and tall, i'm sure a lot of girls want to date him."

"yeah, but... (y/n)? i don't know..."

"he was acting sooooo weird when she got hit," hinata explained, trying to reenact tsukishima's worried face, which mostly looked like a bad impression of a wild animal. "and! i keep seeing them together!"

"they go to the same class, they have been friends for years and they live in the same neighborhood."

"i don't know, hinata..." yamaguchi talked for the first time. "i don't know, tsukki has always taken care of us in his own special way... he cares about us equally i think."

"maybe the best thing wse could do is ask?"

"yeah, no." hinata shook his head. "i would rather die than suffer the anger of tsukishima."

"what about (y/n), yachi?" yamaguchi turned to look at the girl. "you are best friends after all."

"we never talk about that so asking about it would be weird."

"the best thing we can do is to let it go, maybe you're just exaggerating, hinata." kageyama said, leaving his phone behind and grabbing a ball from the floor. "up for some practice outside?"

step tw- wait, there is no step two.

a few days after the incident, hinata had already forgotten about it and did not bother the others with the topic again.

after practice that friday, kageyama had one simple goal: grab his english notebook from the volleyball club room and go home to watch a match on tv.

easy, right?

no.

as he approach the club room, he heard voices from inside. he barely paid attention at first—there were other clubs having activities on the rooms next to theirs, but when he reached the door and pushed it open, he froze.

because his mind was about to explode.

there, standing in the middle of the room were two of his friends—way too close for just friends.

tsukishima had one hand resting on (y/n)’s waist, his other arm loosely wrapped around her back. and you? you were even worse! one of your hands was buried in tsukishima’s hair while the other one was… UNDER HIS SHIRT? WHILE KISSING HIM??????

WHAT.

kageyama’s soul left his body, he needed to leave and try to erase the mental image of his friends kissing but instead—

“HOLY SHIT.”

you yelped, jumping away from tsukishima and hiding yourself in a corner of the room.

tsukishima, on the other hand, was livid. “are you serious?”

kageyama was in shock, his arms flailed like a malfunctioning robot as he pointed at them. “W-WHAT—YOU—”

you were still trying to calm yourself “kageyama, calm down—”

“CALM DOWN?! I JUST SAW—YOU AND TSUKISHIMA— AND YOUR HANDS TOUCHING HIM…” he looked genuinely offended. “WHAT IS HAPPENING?!”

tsukishima sighed aggressively, rubbing his temples. “use your brain, dumbass. what does it look like?”

kageyama’s mouth opened and closed like a fish. his eyes darted between them, his face growing redder by the second.

“OH MY GOD,” he finally blurted out, shoving his hands into his hair like he was personally betrayed. “THIS IS WORSE THAN I THOUGHT.”

you rolled your eyes. “It’s really not that big of a deal—”

“NOT A BIG DEAL?!” kageyama practically threw himself out of the club room, tripping over his own feet as he ran out like the room was on fire. “I DON’T WANT TO HAVE TO TELL HINATA HE WAS, INDEED, RIGHT FOR THE FIRST TIME IN HIS WHOLE LIFE.”

“what?” you both called after him.

within minutes, hinata’s scream could be heard through the school.

operation: does tsukki like (y/n)? complete. conclusions: they are in love.

[yanderes-galore]

Oooh I got a good one !! Yandere platonic Luffy x gn reader x yandere platonic Robin hcs please , maybe reader calls them sister and brother affectionate , only for it to backfire immediately ☃️

Wasn't sure if you meant them together or separate so I did a combination of both.

Yandere! Platonic Luffy + Robin seeing Darling as a sibling

Pairing: Platonic - Sharing

Possible Trigger Warnings: Gender-Neutral Darling, Obsession, Overprotective behavior, Manipulation, Clingy behavior, Implied Sabo enables Luffy in a small section, Dubious companionship.

I like to imagine you originally meant what you said as a nickname.

Something similar to 'You go, Sister!' Or 'Take 'em down, Brother!'

You clearly meant 'brother/sister' in a teasing way, like a playful name to call them.

That doesn't necessarily mean you see them like siblings.

The idea of the two misunderstanding your tone and becoming obsessed is an amusing way to think of this concept.

You have no idea what you just started when you say those words.

You may even miss the brief sparkle of excitement that shows in their faces when you call them your sibling.

Obviously Luffy is ecstatic.

He's always been one for siblings and loves the ones he has/had very much.

He loves Ace, he loves Sabo...

If he considers you one of his siblings, then he's super clingy.

Luffy may struggle understanding romance, but platonic love?

He's pretty much a master with that.

He wasn't expecting you to call him brother... but he was hoping you would!

I feel he'd be even worse if this was after losing Ace.

By then he's convinced, before he meets Sabo again, his brothers are dead.

If you call him 'brother' during this time...

Something in Luffy... clicks.

You... You really see him as a brother?

You love him like he's your brother?

Afterwards you get a clingy Luffy who refuses to leave your side.

That's how his brothers died, after all.

Imagine when he meets Sabo again in Dressrosa, he eagerly shows you to him, declaring you his new sibling.

Sabo's surprised at this, meanwhile you're struggling to explain what exactly your bond with Luffy is.

You try to say it's a misunderstanding, but Luffy ignores your words and gleefully tells Sabo you're part of his little family now.

Sabo finds the circumstances amusing, merely grinning and asking you to take good care of Luffy.

Truthfully you may not mind being seen as an older sibling to Luffy...

But you don't particularly enjoy his obsessive behavior that makes him watch your every move like a hawk.

Who knows, maybe later Sabo will see you like a sibling too, just to support Luffy's behavior around you.

Then there's Robin, who's shocked at first when you call her your sister.

Remember, Robin lost her entire family to the World Government and was hunted throughout her life.

She hasn't really had a family to call home.

She's found one in the Straw Hats, luckily.

Robin may also be close to you, which triggers your affectionate nickname.

Unfortunately, like Luffy, she takes your words wrong.

I can actually see Robin dropping her mature act and crying a bit when you tell her.

Which confuses you and makes you panic.

Did... Did you say something wrong...?

Robin may need some time to contemplate your words, trying to recover from the sudden shock.

She isn't immediately clingy as she needs some time to think.

Eventually though she's overjoyed that you consider him close enough to be a sister.

Once she understands the situation, she's super overprotective.

Robin wants to be a protective older sister to you.

After all, you're probably younger than her.

She often keeps an eye on you and is wary whenever others are around you.

She lost her old family and friends...

She isn't going to lose this one... not even you.

Robin would rather sacrifice herself than see you hurt.

She occasionally hugs you, whispering how she loves you, all while you awkwardly hug back.

Again, you don't mind being seen as a sibling to her, but like Luffy she never seems to give you your space...?

With the two working together... Luffy is the clingy younger brother and Robin is the protective older sister to you.

Another thing to note is Luffy and Robin have only ever had positive interactions with each other.

Which means there aren't many times where they'll fight between each other.

In fact... They'll be quite the lethal combo.

Both of them would be overly protective of their obsession if they saw you as a sibling.

The two may even encourage one another since you view them both as your brother/sister.

Robin is more controlled and less impulsive, but Luffy still has a lack of control when it comes to emotions.

If Robin didn't like someone near you, she'd glare and keep you close.

If she had to, she'll use her Devil Fruit to force them away and keep you close to her.

Luffy, as I've stated in previous concepts, runs purely on instinct.

If someone hurt you or was a bit too close...

He's on them within an instant, leading to you trying to pull him off.

Robin will either help you get Luffy under control, or encourage him...

Depends on who it is.

I feel both of them are capable of murder.

Would it come up often? No.

Not unless they could lose you.

I'd say they're both smothering with affection too.

Luffy clings to you with his rubber body, making it hard for you to pull him off you.

Robin herself is fond of the occasional hug.

If you refused, she'd probably drag you into it, saying you need to give your big sis a hug.

The two love you.

Luffy has always been a sibling person and Robin is excited to have found a new family.

If they both see you as family, good luck leaving the Straw Hat Pirates.

If you ever left to another crew or were held hostage by someone...

You'll be dragged back... Doesn't matter how much blood is spilled...

You're family now, like it or not, neither of them will let you leave.

[ponderingmoonlight]

Realizing your true feelings for Gojo after he stands up for you

Pairing: Gojo x fem!reader

Word Count: 1,4k

Synopsis: You told yourself countless times that you aren't able to like Gojo Satoru, that he is nothing but a jerk. Until he stands up for you, until he shows you what he really thinks of you...

Warnings: literally wrote this in my break at work so don't come for me lol, fluff fluff fluff, reader getting insulted

Oh, how much you hate the way basically everyone looks at you. Well, not technically you, to be exact. It’s rather the person walking next to you who drowns in attention every time you are forced to go out together.

Not that you’d understand the hype. Gojo Satoru, the blessed one, the honored one, the strongest fucking jujutsu sorcerer of your lifetime.

“What’s wrong? Feeling left out, (y/n)?”

And probably the biggest pain in your ass.

“You’re such a whore for attention it hurts”, you bite back while rolling your shaded eyes the way you always do the second he opens his mouth.

His laughter vibrates through your body, annoys you to the core. When will this madness finally come to an end? When will they finally begin to send you onto missions with Geto, Yu or fuck, even Nanami? Why on earth does it always have to be him?

“Caught me there I guess. But it’s not my fault that I’m easy to look at. Not like you.”

You force yourself to take a deep breath in and out, to calm your tingling nerves and stop your fist from twitching. That fucker has some really good nerves. Only the sound of his name next to you simply drives you insane, let alone his stupid comments and oh too annoying voice. Is there really anything good on Gojo Satoru, something you might like?

“I hate you”, you hiss through gritted teeth.

“Aww, don’t be like that, (y/n). We both know that isn’t true”, he purrs, ready to grab your shoulder when you yank away.

“I’ll break your fucking nose if you touch me, jerk.”

“I’d love to see you try, princess.”

“I’ve never seen you around here.”

The sudden soft female voice that interrupts your rambling catches you off guard.

There she stands, an undeniable beauty with curves in just the right places and blonde hair that looks like strands of gold. The bluest eyes, the most breathtaking smile. And of course, her gaze is fixated on Satoru.

“That’s because it’s my first time here. After all, my eyes definitely wouldn’t have miss someone like you”, he replies with that cheeky grin you know oh too well, the cheeky grin that makes your blood boil in an instant.

Really? This is probably the worst time to start a flirty conversation. You were sent here to detect a special grade curse, to save this damned city from getting scorched. But he? He has nothing but her blonde hair and delicate smile in his pea brain

“Don’t you think that this isn’t the right time for a conversation like that?”, you mumble irritably.

“We’re just having a little talk. Who are you, his girlfriend? I highly doubt that. A girl like you would never have a chance with a guy like him.”

You have to blink a few times when her sugary voice spits at you with pure venom.

It shouldn’t bother you. Why would it? Gojo is the last person walking on earth you’d be in a relationship with, the last person who would ever want you. You, with your average looks. You, being a grade 2 sorcerer who has nothing special to offer. You, who never actually allowed herself to like Gojo. You, who is nothing compared to the woman standing in front of you.

Then why do her words feel like a knife in your heart? Why are you standing there like an idiot, sunglasses barely covering your pain? Why does his presence next to you suddenly sting so badly?

“Pretty disgusting words for someone with that face. Do you really think the world belongs to you because you look good? Let me tell you something: Apart from being hot, (y/n) is also unremarkable smart, astute and sarcastic. Someone as simple-minded as you should better avoid me. Now get lost, will you?”

What.

On.

Earth.

Did Gojo Satoru really stand up for you? No, did Gojo Satoru just call you “hot, unremarkable smart, astute and sarcastic”? Your heart almost beats out of your chest, pounding so roughly against your ribcage that you feel like fainting any given minute. A cruel storm of butterflies almost causes your guts to turn, makes you see stars. Are you dreaming, maybe? This can’t be reality. It’s impossible that-

“Hey, are you okay? I hope you don’t trust that stinky girl”, Gojo speaks out softly.

You can sense the way he eyes you up and down through his sunglasses, the little pout on his face revealing that he’s truly worried. Is that really the boy who teases you until you lose your mind completely? God, how much you hate him, how much you want to punch him into his stupid perfect face.

You let out the breath you didn’t know you were holding. But what is that little part of your brain that almost dies in excitement, then? What are those strange butterflies that never invaded you since you joined Jujutsu High?

“Hey, look at me.”

Your eyes dart upwards, get greeted by his bright blue orbs that look down at you in a seriousness you’ve never seen before.

“Tell me you don’t believe her.”

“She said nothing I don’t already know”, you reply dryly.

He shakes his head, still staring down at you with furrowed eyebrows. Who is this guy? What are those feelings? Why aren’t you able to look away like you always do? Gojo is only playing with you the way he does constantly. His bright blue orbs aren’t to be trust and you know it.

“I would choose you a hundred times before someone like her, (y/n).”

It’s like all life drained from your body, blank eyes staring at him in shock. This really has to be a dream. When was the last time Gojo has been nice to you? Probably never. He constantly teases you, drives you inane, makes you mad, makes you regret your decision to come to Jujutsu High and also…

Makes you feel save, makes you feel good about yourself, makes you feel affection.

Affection? For Gojo?

“I…I have to go”, you blurt out so abruptly that you almost trip over your own feet while trying to haste away.

He’s only picking on you like he always does. Gojo Satoru, considering a romantic relationship with you? You huff out loud, cheeks redden by the sheer thought of the dumb look you gave him. You aren’t better than the girls you despise so much, after all. He truly managed to wrap you around his finger like everyone else, even though you told yourself over and over to hate him.

What a pathetic jerk you are.

You spin around so fast you almost fall over, only to get caught in a pair of strong arms.

“You don’t believe me”, Gojo notes while keeping you in place.

“Why would I?”, you press out, not daring to look at him once again.

You need to get away from this cursed place, away from the honored one. It’s time to go back to normal, back to hating him with all your heart. Because this is all he is, right? Gojo Satoru is nothing but your rival…right?

“Maybe I can convince you with something else.”

Just when you’re about to protest and freeing yourself, he pulls you even closer and presses his lips against yours.

Time stands still, the lenses of your sunglasses pressing so violently against Gojo’s skin that they crack.

This.

This is the stuff your wildest dreams are made of, a dream you didn’t even allow yourself to think about. If there’s one thing that always seemed impossible to you, it was this. Why would you ever be more than Gojo’s rival, what is the purpose of seeing anything apart from a pain in the ass in him?

This right here.

Out of instinct, you wrap your arms around him as well, pull him closer and closer, take in his delicious scent. The sheer feeling of his lips collapsing into yours leaves you breathless, makes your lungs ache in the urge for air.

Until he lets go of you while panting hard, now glowing eyes fixated on you so intimidating that you feel yourself blushing.

“Believing me know?”

“You stained my sunglasses”, you breathe out mindlessly.

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[pleaseinsertwittyurl]

There are always 2 sides.

The discourse around Louis and Lestat being a victim and abuser and nothing more drives me insane.

Something i don't think enough people remember is that the very same reason the fight began in 1×05 (lestat grabbing claudia by the throat when she tries to "take louis away") we see Louis himself do to her in 1×07 when she tries to get Louis to burn Lestat.

They BOTH would harm her rather than live in a world without the other. They are both guilty of abusing her and each other.

There is an implication that a good deal of time passed between Louis and Lestat meeting and the church. Louis expresses that he shares himself with Lestat in a way he only had with Paul. I would assume that goes both ways, to a degree. We know Louis knows at least enough about Nicki to discourage Claudia poking that wound. He also clearly knows that the threat of leaving is his most powerful weapon against Lestat.

Mental abuse is abuse. And Louis abused Lestat mentally for years. Shaming him, ridiculing him, shutting him out, manipulating him into making Claudia (a traumatic moment for him, whether Louis understands the depths of it or not) by promising to give him what he's being denying him, promising to never put him through what he fears the most.

Louis admits to purposely making Lestat suffer. He admits he was warned that Claudia would suffer and he wanted her anyway because he needed to feel redeemed. He is not innocent. He is not a trapped, weak victim. He made choices to hurt both Lestat and Claudia time and time again.

Does this justify Lestat's actions in 1×05? Obviously not. But we now know Louis was not willing to stop the fight. He taunted Lestat the same way he taunted the Alderman. He was unleashing years of frustrations just as Lestat was. His priority was not to protect Claudia, it was to hurt Lestat, consequences be damned.

I hate the drop scene as much as the next person and Lestat has admitted he will never earn forgiveness for what he did. But if you view Louis as some squeaky clean victim who was manipulated, trapped, and abused by Lestat you are missing so much of what this show is conveying.

We will always tend to paint ourselves as the hero of our own story. It is hard to accept your faults or that you hurt people you love. It is much easier to shift that blame on to someone else, to frame them as the villian. But life is not usually that black and white. Claudia had harsh words for them both in her diary, even before they got to Europe, for a reason. They both made hurtful mistakes with her, both treated her like a pawn in their relationship instead of a person, both harmed her, took away her choice, never prioritized her.

That is the great tragedy. That she never had a choice and was not allowed to be her own person. And in the end, they both are responsible for her misery and her death. That's what makes the reunion scene so important. They have been grieving her and carrying that guilt alone, all the while longing for the comfort of the other for 70+ years. Louis has found clarity in his memories, he has accepted his role in their suffering, he has seen Lestat's perspective more fully. Lestat is broken, totally consumed with that guilt and grief. Both know that although they cannot change what they've done, they can forgive the other, even if they can't forgive themselves. They can love each other despite everything they've done to one another because they cannot stop loving each other. But now they can try to rebuild that love from the rubble.

[vivalafxxku]

Scruffing of the Robins + others

i wholeheartedly believe that Bruce is devastated when he can no longer or never got to scruff his kids. Not only is it because his kids have matured to the point that they no longer impulsively jump into shit and need to be physically pulled back, it's because they grew.

He nearly cries when he tried to scruff Dick (his Robin may have gotten better impulsive control, but he was still a little shit) and his son only rises to his toes rather than the air. A whole new wave of tears when Dick (while he didn't grow much taller) changes to his more streamlined Nightwing suit so there's nothing to scruff without accidentally hurting him. Dick would catch his look of discontent and laugh, saying that this was exactly why his suit was designed the way it is.

Then there's Jason. Jason who was always pretty small (street kid woes), so even at 15, Bruce can comfortably scruff him. And most of the time, Jason goads him into scruffing him 'cause it's fun. But then he died and when he came back, his son nearly towers over Bruce and weighs just as much and won't let Bruce within 6ft of him without risking a bullet to the shoulder.

Oh but he tries, out of instinct or maybe nostalgia? A whimsical wish for the past, for a different reality? Though it's not much of a scruff and more of a yank to the brown leather jacket collar that earns him a snarl on a good day and physical harm on a bad one.

Tim doesn't get scruffed much and Bruce regrets it in hindsight. But back then, he was drowning in grief and Tim didn't need much scruffing, the Robin was metaphorically scruffing him than the other way around.

By the time Bruce gets around to scruffing Tim, it's a rare occurrence. Tim has all the discipline in the world when in his company despite what his brothers and team say, mind carefully calculating move after move, from travelling the world (something Tim refuses to elaborate other than a splenectomy that Bruce had to dig to find out) during his little stint in the time stream. But when he does, it's a Dick situation all over again where he just rises to his toes.

Cassandra was much too elusive and disciplined to be scruffed (not to mention, too tall). His daughter, however, does find amusement in the impulse and allows Bruce to scruff her, pulling her knees inwards to have the full experience of being airborne. But it's not the same. It's a different kind of fond; it doesn't have the protectiveness laced in the action. There's no exasperation, no "hold on a minute, let's think about it."

Barbara, Stephanie and Duke were too tall when Bruce took them in. And unlike Cass, they don't indulge him either. The existence of Batgirl hinged on the fact that she listens to Batman and Bruce had his hands full with Dick and Jason. Stephanie teases him, rubbing in the fact that she's not actually his kid; therefore, doesn't have to right to scruff her. And Duke is much too awkward, too new, to know if he should.

Then, there's Damian.

His little boy that flinched the first time Bruce reached out to scruff him. Bruce was still working on getting Damian comfortable around him, to show that he would never lay a hand on him. Then he was lost in time. He considered himself lucky that Dick took up more than being Batman. He came back and all he needed to do was figure out his and Damian's dynamic as father and son. (Turns out, Dick made a habit of scruffing Damian. "Won't lie to you, B. It's pretty effective.")

It's only a matter of time before when Damian outgrows being scruffed. Bruce already missed 10 years with his boy on top of being lost in time and puberty is going to hit him like a truck in a few years if he is anything like Bruce.

But for now, he enjoys his little Robin's protests and huffiness when he tries to jump into the fray prematurely while his family listens in amusement through the comms.

[dreamofbecoming]

listen i know we all love steve “completely ignorant of queer culture to the point that bisexuality is a surprise” harrington being roasted and educated in turns by robin and eddie, yadda yadda, good stuff. i read “they made a horror version of rocky?” in a fic recently and cackled. also a big fan of “he knew he was bi from the start and just never talked about it” as a trope, love it excellent well done

but what about steve who realizes after starcourt that the most important person in his life now has this thing that’s a major part of her life that he knows nothing about, and what if he fucks it up? what if he says something ignorant or rude by accident, and hurts her? what if he loses her because he didn’t know the right thing to say? what if he can’t keep her safe because he doesn’t know what to look out for? absolutely fucking not, this steve says

and listen she’d never say anything, because she can tell that he can tell how much she likes teasing him and teaching him things, so he plays dumb, and she thinks it’s very sweet. but she notices when the zines she keeps under her bed that she buys at that one secret bookshop in indy when she can sneak away on family trips start going missing, always one at a time, and replaced in a few days with another disappearing. and she finds the new ones he must have gone to buy the weekend she was at her aunt’s house hidden in the back of his closet when she goes to steal one of his sweaters. and she notices when he slips more of her queerer movie recommendations into his personal take home pile rather than the movie night stack when he thinks she’s not looking.

she doesn’t notice when he drives to indianapolis after she tries to explain to him why she can’t just ask out a cute girl, tries to impress on him the fear attached to every moment of attraction that he simply has never had to feel, but later she finds a crumpled receipt from a diner in one of his jacket pockets when she’s looking for his keys, and the address is across the street from the bar the gorgeous woman at the bookstore told her about, the one she memorized the address of but hasn’t worked up the guts to think about visiting, and she knows he must have gone looking for a place like that, must have been trying to understand, must have been scoping it out to make sure it was somewhere she could feel safe, after she told him she never had.

so when eddie nearly pops a blood vessel when they clock each other and she mentions that steve is the only person she’s ever come out to before, her hackles come up. because she gets it, she does, he’s only known king steve until recently, so it makes sense that he would be afraid, be concerned for her safety.

but steve is her person, and no one- no one- has ever made her feel as protected or as cared for as he does. no one has ever tried as hard to understand her, no one has ever put so much work into making her feel safe and seen and loved. and she thinks maybe even if no one else ever does, that’s ok. because she has steve, and more importantly steve has her, and that means no one gets to question his ally credentials in her presence without a dressing down to remember, no matter how well they mean or how recently they helped save the world.

(and maybe she’s not as surprised as she could be when he figures out bisexuality all on his own, because she’s been reading all the same pamphlets he has, after all. and she’s seen the way he looks at eddie, i mean come on. maybe no one else has noticed, but then, nobody knows steve harrington like she does.)

[clarkeyhill]

☁️Stag Do | George Clarke

[ George is on his stag do with the boys, you're at home as your hen do isn't until next week, as the night goes on the alcohol hits George and he starts to miss you, wishing you were with him; one comment from his friend results in him leaving early to come home to you]

It's around 7pm and you're on the sofa watching your favourite film once again, cuddled up with a hot water bottle and snacks when you receive a text from George.

Geo🩵: "miss you x"

You let out a small smile as you read his text message, no matter where he is, who he's with or what he's doing, you always know there's a thought of you lingering in his mind.

You: "miss you too cutie, having fun x?" You reply

Geo🩵: "yeah but it'd be better if you were here x"

You: "you'll be home soon, enjoy your night, you've got me for the rest of your life remember x"

Geo🩵: "I'm the luckiest guy alive x" he replies

You heart react his message, leaving him to enjoy his night. Flicking through Netflix as you await his return home. As the night progresses George can't help but think about you, feeling a tinge of sadness wash over him as there's nobody in the world he'd rather be with than you right now. He nurses his pint as he stares into space, zoning out sounding out the noise from the bar. Chris notices his absence to the group and decides to say something "hey mate you okay?" He says looking at George with furrowed brows "yeah mate, just missing y/n you know? She just completes everything" he says with a small smile on his face, Chris laughs "mate this is your last night of freedom, focus on something else" he says, George's face scrunches in disbelief of Chris' words. "Why would I want to focus on something else? You're all talking to girls and I'm sat here missing MY girl because you lot wanted to fetch me to a stupid bar in London, I'm off home" he scoffs necking his drink and grabbing his jacket.

"Are you serious? We're all out here for you, leave her at home for a change it won't hurt" Chris retorts, George clocks the comment "it might not hurt her, but it's hurting me, SHE has persisted I stay out and enjoy my night, it's ME that wants to go and see her, I'd rather spend my days at home with her than snake my way around girls in sweaty London bar, talk to me when you're sober" George hisses and with that he leaves, calling an Uber to your flat.

You head to the kitchen to make yourself a hot chocolate before ending your film, the clock strikes 9pm and you feel your eyes getting a little tired. You stir your cup when you hear the front door creak open, it's George. You peek round the corner confused hot chocolate in clutch "George?" You call out, his face appears around the corner "hey baby, got one of those for me?" He says with a smile on his face shuffling over. You set your cup down on the counter and look at him confused "why are you home so early?" You say as he snakes his arms around your waist. "I missed you too much" he says planting a kiss onto your lips with a sweet smile attatched "but it's your night you should be-" he cuts you off "enjoying myself? Yeah, I did and now I'm coming home to enjoy myself with you, cuddled in bed with a film on, I don't need the nightlife anymore y/n, you're my nightlife" he says to you looking at you with doe eyes, smitten for you.

You let out a smile as you hand him your hot chocolate you'd just made "here have this, I'll make another are you hungry?" You ask him shuffling over to the kitchen counter "I could eat" he says walking over to the sofa "it's a good job I've just ordered pizza then isn't it" you say chuckling to yourself as you boil the kettle, admiring George as he picks out a film to watch. You couldn't help but feel a sense of safety develop inside of you, a feeling you've never felt in a relationship before; the way George prioritises you in every aspect, his kindness and caring manner towards you.

"I can't wait to marry you" you say sitting down next to him as you rest your head on his shoulder. "I can't wait either" he says kissing the side of your head.

-

🫶🏻

@arthurhillmastermind

[propertyofemilyprentiss]

red wine prompt 5, emily x reader, reader has depression and has a bad day

My sweetest downfall

Pairing: Emily Prentiss x fem!reader

Category: Hurt/Comfort

Summary: Emily is always there to guide you back to the light when a bad day comes.

A/N: Thank you for the request! You can join my celebration here!

TWs: none (i think?), just r being sad

Word count: 1.8K

You could sometimes feel it from miles away whenever a bad day was coming. It came in small waves, each one bringing you down just a little until it became too much. First, you could feel your shoulders slumping down in defeat; then your gaze would keep unfocusing from time to time, followed by an increasing heaviness in your chest. Smiling would become a necessary task rather than an involuntary gesture. By the end of it, you were left powerless, succumbing to this barely existing state of numbness.

Today wasn’t any different, you thought, starting to feel the signs from yesterday, a cruel reminder that you didn’t have any power over your mind and feelings. It was a lost cause trying to find a reason - it could well range from nothing to bad weather, to a meaningless argument or to work-related stress. 

When this happens, you always retract into your broken shell and block out the world until you feel like you can breathe again. You rotted in bed, barely moving the whole day, curtains closed and lights off - darkness always brought a weird sense of peace to your defeated soul. You ignored every buzzing of your phone, not having a single flicker of energy to even check who was reaching out to you whilst knowing that you will feel guilty about it later.

Today was one in which you just couldn’t function, instead finding the tiniest victory in the fact that you were still breathing, still alive and not entirely won over by this feeling.

You missed the numbness - it was much easier to survive with it. But on some days you weren’t lucky enough to feel it, instead forced to live into the made-up casket of your mind. 

—

After not hearing from you the whole day, Emily decided to stop by your place instead of going directly home. Something was clearly wrong, that much she figured already, but she couldn’t pinpoint what. You had been doing so well lately, smiling and laughing and having that spark in your eyes that she adored. So she didn’t waste any time once the clock hit 5pm, taking her jacket and bag, hurrying towards the car with a heavy heart.

The drive was almost a blur, doing it almost unconsciously from the many times she had done this route before. Grabbing her keys, she entered the building, going towards your apartment, her anxiety growing with each step. Once she reaches the front of the door, she doesn’t waste any second to unlock it, being met with the familiar sight that she had seen countless times before. Only now there was a stark contrast to it - the once lively, cozy place now was poorly lit and unmoving, like there was no soul living here.

She makes her way further into the hallway, careful not to make any sudden noises, until she reaches your bedroom door, which is slightly ajar. Her eyebrows knit into a small frown when she notices you still lying in bed, for a moment wondering how long you’ve been there. Pushing it a bit more, she quietly enters the room, silently making her way over and stopping right beside you, her frown growing deeper. A wave of worry immediately washes over her as she takes in the sight of you still in PJs, your hair unbrushed and no sign of food or water nearby.

With her eyes never leaving you for even a moment, she settles on the edge of the bed, her lips pursed and her heart breaking a little at the sight of you still unmoving, just existing. Taking a deep breath, she slowly reaches out, beginning to card her fingers through your silky hair, her voice lowered but laced with concern.

”Sweetheart?”, she tried to gently pull you out of this state, asking simple yes or no questions at the beginning, “how long have you been in bed, mi amor? Since I left for work this morning?”.

”Mhm…”, you let out, your eyes darting up to her face, regretting it moments later once you spotted her troubled expression. All because of you.

The frown on her face doesn’t disappear at your quietly mumbled response, the uneasiness in her chest tearing her apart at your confirmation. “But…that was more than ten hours ago…have you eaten anything at all?”.

When she was met with silence, Emily’s heart broke a little more, her mind already imagining the sight of you all alone, laying in bed for ten hours straight, not bothering to take care of yourself in the simplest ways. The most important question still lingered on the tip of her tongue, wishing nothing more than to be able to find out the cause of this so that she could make it better. She swallowed the lump in her throat, scared not to push you even further away if she’d ask it now, instead letting her fear and vulnerability out through her shaky voice while her fingers still moved in a comforting motion through your hair.

“Sweetheart…you’re really worrying me”, she expressed, trying to get any sort of reaction out of you, but getting none again. Her heart broke further.

Silence engulfed the room, carrying the heaviness of a thousand unspoken words between you two, like there’s a thick brick wall that Emily can’t get through.

”I’m sorry”, you finally spoke in a low murmur, feeling like it was the only thing worth saying at this moment.

“You have nothing to be sorry for”, she immediately replied, her voice as gentle as always, “just please tell me what’s wrong”.

“Bad day”, you sighed, not daring to make eye-contact with her again, your mind already conjuring the pained expression of her beautiful face that you didn’t deserve to look at.

Her gaze falls at the sound of your defeated tone, like you were trying to make yourself as small as possible until you could shrink away from her. It was never easy seeing you being a prisoner of your own mind, but alongside the pain that coursed through her veins also came the determination to make it all better. To assure you that she is here and that she loves you more than anything, even on your bad days.

“Please, baby, look at me”, her voice was as soft as a flower petal, bringing two fingers under your chin to encourage you further. 

When you finally did, her heart clenched a little more at your hurting, exhausted eyes. The motion of her hand was almost an unconscious gesture as she traced it over your cheek, her thumb moving in a gentle caress to soothe the pain that won over your soul.

“Did something happen?”, she asked with caution, her tone bearing the same tenderness.

You shook your head in response, a part of you wishing that something had actually happened, so that you could at least have a viable reason why you were feeling like this, why you couldn’t do more than just exist.

“No, nothing happened”, you mutter in slight frustration, “I just have this feeling that’s pressing onto me and…and I don’t know how to get rid of it”, your voice cracked a bit, enough to make your eyes glisten, “I don’t want to feel this. I want to be numb again”.

“Hey, no, sweetheart, it’s okay”, she responded affectionately, ignoring the aching in her chest as your words broke through her body, “Tell me what you need”.

You looked at her hesitantly for a moment, fighting between your desire and the voices in your head telling you that you don’t deserve it. But she was right there, her eyes pleading at you to let her in, to let her love you, making it impossible not to cave in.

“Can you…can you hold me? Please?”, you pleaded in a whisper, almost self-conscious from how pathetic you knew you sounded.

“Of course”, she gave you a smile - and you could see the spark of hope in her eyes that almost made you crumble before her arms even encircled your body.

And that was it, from the moment she noticed the tears in your eyes that were threatening to fall on your weary face, any shred of doubt completely dissolved, her hands immediately reaching for you until you were laying partially on top of her, her arms firmly wrapped around you. One hand resumed the smooth motion through your hair, while the other kept you against her, determined not to let go - not to let you go.

That’s when you ultimately fell into pieces, your body shaking with the force of your sobs, tears trailing down onto Emily’s shoulder, your own hold tight onto her body, terrified of scaring her away.

“It’s okay baby, it’s okay. I’m here, I love you, I’ve got you. It’s going to be okay, just let it all out”, she mumbled into your ears, the softness in which she spoke breaking you furthermore.

Her voice continues to murmur the words over and over again, soothing and quiet, the only sound in the entire silent apartment beside her sweet nothings being the shuddering, heart-wrenching sobs that erupt from your body, causing her arms to hold you closer and her lips to find your forehead, placing loving kisses repeatedly.

She lets you cry against her until you have nothing left, her limbs wrapped around you, encasing you in a blanket of warmth and safety, the smell of expensive perfume and clean clothes filling your nostrils as her hold never falters, her chin resting on top of your head in between kisses.

That’s when the feeling goes away, its place being taken by the comfort and familiarity that Emily radiated - the feeling of being at home. Gradually, the heaviness in your chest disappeared, tears turning into sniffles and pain transcending into love.

“That’s it, you’re doing amazing”, she whispered, her thumbs wiping away the remnants of your teardrops.

“Thank you”, you managed to let out, still keeping your face hidden away in the crook of her neck.

“No need to thank me”, she gently moved a little bit to uncover your eyes, earning a little smile in response, “See? That smile is worth everything”.

Her words made your heart flutter, your lips curling further upwards. “I love you, Em”.

“I love you too, sweetheart”, she pecked your lips this time, your smiles reuniting in between, “Now, we need to do something about your empty stomach. Stay here, I’ll prepare something quickly”.

“Don’t…”, you protested as soon as you felt her pulling away, “let’s just order something”.

The look you gave her caused her to crumble instantly, never being able to refuse your pleading. “Okay, we’ll order something”.

God, you love her so much.

With Emily next to you the whole night, a bad day was just that - a bad day, not a bad week, nor a bad month. Just a bad day, which would be instantly perished by her presence, a constant guiding light in your life.

[mimimarvelingmarvel]

time bound part five

pairing: worst wolverine!logan howlett x f!mutant!reader

Part Five - Masterlist

summary: Y/n’s life takes a dramatic turn when the Time Variance Authority intervenes, pulling her from a critical moment in her timeline. The TVA sends her to the void where she eventually meets with Deadpool and a very familiar face. With Deadpool's universe in the balance, alongside his reluctant would-be pal, Wolverine, and the enigmatic time-bending mutant known as the Veil, the trio must complete the mission and save Deadpool’s world from an existential threat.

overall warnings: 18+, Fem!Reader, AFAB Reader, Use of Y/N, Her X-Men name is Veil, She/her pronouns, Swearing, Angst, Heavy Violence, Character Death, Deadpool (he’s his own warning), Hurt, Fluff, Angst, Eventual Smut, Slow Burn, TVA

word count: 1.1k

We find our way to the diner Logan had spotted, and it's no wonder it’s deserted—the main source of food seems to be Spam. I grumble as Wade tosses a can my way. “I’d rather drop dead than eat,” I inspect the can, grimacing, “20-year-old Spam.”

I watch as Wade hesitates for a moment, then shrugs and digs in. “Suit yourself, Pumpkin, more for me.” Out of the corner of my eye, I see Logan searching for something else in the kitchen, his movements deliberate, but I keep my focus on Wade.

“You said the TVA can fix my mistake?” I ask, my voice low, the weight of the question hanging in the air. I notice Logan pause, then he resumes rummaging, though his silence speaks volumes.

Wade tilts his head, gesturing for me to sit across from him as he pulls off his mask. “Yeah, for sure. My deal with Mr. Grumpy over there is that he’ll help me, and then I’ll help him.” I nod slowly, processing his words.

“And your universe is…?”

“Dying,” Wade replies nonchalantly, shoveling a spoonful of Spam into his mouth. “Because that beautiful piece of ass died in my universe.”

I raise an eyebrow, a mixture of disbelief and sympathy washing over me. “Right, Laura told me about that Logan.”

Wade gasps, his hand freezing mid-bite. “You know X-23? Did she tell you about—”

“I don’t want to hear about my Variants,” I cut him off, my tone firm. Wade’s mouth snaps shut, but not before he gives a sly grin.

“She had a nice piece of ass as well,” he mutters, his eyes tilting downward, clearly checking me out. I wave a hand in front of his face, irritation flaring.

“Eyes up here,” I growl, my voice laced with warning. He meets my gaze with a smirk, unbothered by my anger.

Meanwhile, Logan continues to clatter around the kitchen, his focus intense as Wade calls over to him, “So, what made you finally wear an honest-to-God costume? Mine’s red so they can’t see me bleed. But I can see how yellow would be useful too.”

Logan barely looks up as he retorts, “Have you been checked for ADHD?”

Wade doesn’t miss a beat. “No, but I’ve had several STDs, which were probably caused by ADHD.”

I can’t resist adding, “A walking scrotum like you? Not surprised.”

Wade grins at me, biting the air playfully. “She has a mouth, you should use it more.”

“I’ll cut your dick off,” I snap, my patience wearing thin.

Wade chuckles, undeterred. “What are you looking for?” he asks, shifting his attention back to Logan.

Logan finally pulls out a can of rubbing alcohol, holding it up as if he’s found something worth keeping.

Wade’s eyes widen in horror. “No, no, no, no, no, no, no,” he babbles, shaking his head furiously.

I step closer, recognizing the label. “That’s rubbing alcohol,” I point out, though it’s clear Logan knows.

Wade’s concern deepens as he watches Logan crack open the bottle. “You don’t wanna drink that... Yeah, there you go. Fuck that liver.”

Ignoring Wade’s protests, Logan takes a seat beside me in the booth, the bottle of rubbing alcohol clutched in his hand. He glances over at Wade, a rare look of curiosity crossing his face. “What the fuck are those?” he asks, pointing to the stapled bits of fluff still attached to Wade’s head.

Wade touches the staples casually. “Oh. Back in civilian life, I wear a toupee, but nobody knows.”

Logan’s laughter is unexpected, a genuine sound that catches Wade off guard. For a moment, Wade joins in, his laughter light and carefree—until he realizes Logan is laughing at him, not with him. The smile slips from Wade’s face, a flicker of hurt in his eyes.

“Everybody knows,” Logan says, the amusement fading as quickly as it came.

I frown, studying Logan more closely. He’s different—subtly so, but different. The way he carries himself, the excessive drinking—it was never this bad before. There’s a heaviness in him now, something dark that wasn’t there before.

Wade, perhaps sensing the shift in mood, offers a lifeline. “Wanna talk about what’s haunting you, or should we wait for a third-act flashback?”

Logan’s response is immediate, “Go fuck yourself.”

Wade shrugs, unbothered. “You know, in my world, you’re well-regarded.”

Logan’s gaze hardens. “Yeah, well, not in mine.”

The sadness in his voice is unmistakable, and it tugs at something inside me. We have so much we need to talk about, but now isn’t the time.

Wade, sensing the tension, tries to lighten the mood. “They don’t like me much in mine either.”

Logan doesn’t bite. “You don’t say.”

Wade continues, the bravado in his voice slipping just a bit. “I wanted to be something, you know? I wanted to be an Avenger.”

Logan snorts, his disdain clear. “Fuck the Avengers.”

Wade’s voice softens, a rare glimpse of vulnerability showing. “I didn’t make the cut though. Same with the X-Men. My girlfriend left me like this.”

Logan’s eyebrow raises in surprise. “You had a girlfriend?”

“Yeah. Vanessa,” Wade says, his tone wistful. “When we met, she was a dancer. I mean, our whole life was good. But oh boy, I just fucked that right up.”

Wade spares me a glance, his expression unreadable. I can’t tell if he’s looking for sympathy or just sharing his story because it’s the truth.

“But you,” Wade continues, his voice tinged with admiration, “you were an X-Men. Fuck that, you were *the* X-Man. The Wolverine. He’s a hero in my world.”

Logan’s expression darkens, his voice cold and distant. “Yeah, well, he ain’t shit in mine.”

My eyes cast down, fingers tapping on the counter gently. The weight of Logan’s words hangs in the air, a reminder of the pain and regret that lingers between us.

“We should head out,” I say quietly, breaking the silence that has settled over us.

Logan seems eager to go, standing up quickly, the urgency clear in his movements. The three of us pack up and leave in a rush, exiting the diner and beginning a slow walk. I take the lead, the silence between us heavy with unspoken words.

Wade breaks the quiet, his voice unusually soft. “Pumpkin, you never told us how you got here.”

I glance at Logan, knowing he already knows the story. It was one of the first things I told him, the memory still raw. My heart aches at the thought of what we’ve lost, what I couldn’t save.

“I was too slow,” I admit, the words heavy on my tongue. “I tried to change the outcome of our world—the death of my friends, my family—that’s all on me.”

Logan’s voice is a quiet rumble beside me. “No, that’s on me too.”

I shake my head, refusing to let him take the blame. “You couldn’t have known. I did, in a way. I could have practiced more, gotten better, maybe seen more.”

The conversation falls silent, the weight of our shared guilt pressing down on us. I can tell our conversation has run its course.

Next Part

A/N: Fuck it, I’m staying up late to write because this is entirely self-indulgent.

taglist: @oscarissac2099 @somiaw

comment if you want to be added!

[alxxbee]

Ok, I just saw your redesign of Lucifer for the 2P AU you did and I honestly like it a bit better than in the show, he actually feels prideful here since purple is in fact the biblically accurate color of Pride! :D

Also making him a brunette and adding bright blues (a biblically accurate color of Sloth) as accents was a nice choice :) and the golden eyeshadow! :)

But does he still rule Hell in the AU with Alastor coming from Heaven? And what's the latter's role IN Heaven?

(I’m actually not very familiar with 2P lore if there really even is one but i’ll try))

((i also haven’t rewatched the show since it literally came out i maybe have forgor about like many things LMFAO))

(this also got deleted like twice and i’m pissed for rewriting this again)

(anyways here’s 2P Lucifer in my own interpretation)

2P Luci thrives in being alone, finding comfort and strength in it rather than misery. He doesn’t mind ruling Hell on his own. He doesn’t need anybody and doesn’t want anybody. His relationship with 2P Lilith has broken apart completely, due to their different views on redemption and the treatment of sinners. 2P Lilith is tricky since we know almost nothing of her, but i believe that she harbors a deep disdain for Hell and rejects the idea of controlling sinners for personal gain

BUUUUT something that has been in my mind recently is how he is essentially the embodiment of Pride.. but since 2P is (technically) the opposite of something (an inversion) The opposite of pride would be HUMILITY. Instead of making him a sad, insecure ruler, ..I’d like to think he thrives on human’s insecurities, fear, humiliation and self-doubt instead.. (rather than in the show he puts ON a prideful face when in reality he’s quite timid and socially awkward))

His relationship with 2PAlastor is quite decent (2P radioapple 🙂‍↕️) they still bicker but not in a hateful way like they do in the show, lighthearted jokes and banter, reflecting a mutual respect. (Lucifer knows how sensitive 2P Al is, and despite flourishing in humans despair and emotions, He has a soft spot for 2P Al.) ..Oh and they do not try to win over Charlie’s affection, ((2P Charlie actually does not really gaf about them XD))

Does not care for Heaven.. maybe even hates. but is not emotionally affected by his fall, I don’t know if Lucifer actually misses Heaven in the show, we can see how deeply affected he still is by their rejection of his creativity.

so i guess id like to think instead of him feeling hurt or betrayed(?), he feels somewhat thankful. Thankful that he was able to flourish in HIS ideas at last, finally seeing the evil of the world like he intended to.. destroying the order Heaven worked hard to maintain. Maybe he wanted Eve to bite the apple because he WANTED evil to come and corrupt the world, He knew what came with free will. He was a rebellious angel who went against Heaven in every way, intentionally with malice. Implying that Lucifer does not regret his role in giving sinners free will. He also cares for his sinners but not in a good way, more like he wants as many as possible so he could one day potentially top over heaven in power. A power hungry bastard.

He is serious, and a realist. NOT goofy and silly lmao. (Though he has goofy moments i shall not strip him of his whimsical fun entirely)

2P Lucifer and Original Lucifer share some similar qualities aswell. Something Both 2P Luce and Original Luce have in common is that they love Charlie.. and will protect her at all costs. Luci actually maintains a positive relationship with his daughter, He is close with her and tries to be in her life like a good father should, but 2P Charlie doesn’t usually give him the time of day. although she can be quite mean, and not the bubbly type at all like she is in the show, she still loves her father to a certain extent.

Again, we don’t really know much about the characters and the family’s history in the show.. And until we do, everything i said could be changed completely!! Like i said this is something for fun!! I haven’t really been thinking much about this AU, i designed him as a silly redraw but if i ever in the future add more details to his lore i will 🫶

Oh and as for the relationship with Original Alastor and 2P Luci…

Ok that’s all idk i don’t write for a reason 💀💀💀 💔

[caffeinatedvigilantewriter]

Inspiration @silvergeckos

You should follow them they deserve it :))

The idea was what if Bruce Wayne’s missing older sister (Samantha) was actually Sam Manson?

In this AU Sam and is a year older than Bruce, who is 23 and had just adopted Dick.

When Sam turns 24 she ends up moving to Gotham and becomes an environmentalist that protests in rather… unconventional ways, kind of like Poison Ivy. Unlike Ivy, however, she never ends up hurting anyone or taking anyone hostage. Just completely mobbing polluting factories and slapping a lawsuit on them.

The Bat wouldn’t have had a huge problem with her, expect there was something strange about the abandoned and cleared out factories.

They were overrun with exotic plants.

Ivy swears she has nothing to do with it and even offered her assistance to venture into one of the mini forest with Batman and Robin.

Once inside, they find out that the forest mostly contains dozen dog plants that went extinct thousands of years ago and, strangely enough, plants that don’t exist.

Flowers that’s glow in multiple colors and smell like different foods (Dicks favorite was a radioactive blue lily that smelled like raspberry cotton candy)

Trees that grow neon fruits and seem to have a mind of their own

And dozens of other plants

Bruce observations on Samantha Manson don’t shows she has any plant ability, but she could be hiding her meta powers from the world in order to protect herself.

The only way Bruce can be sure is to take a DNA sample and run it through the Computer.

Dick is delighted to have an aunt and Alfred is very grateful that Mistress Samantha is alive and well if you could call it that.

[carpenoctxrn]

Gentlemen (Yandere!Ominis x fem!reader)

Prompt: Ominis Gaunt has been courting you however he has been taking things slow. To the point most people think you guys are besties. So when the Yule ball is approaching in a week and he still hasnt asked you out, you decide to go with someone else. Telling Ominis that maybe him and you weren’t meant to work out.

Part 1/2

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The Yule ball was a tradition. To the girl seating next to Ominis Gaunt in potion however it was a dreadful and pitiful wait. He had been courting her since their 6th year. Now they are in their 7th year.

Whenever someone would ask Ominis if he was her girlfriend he would reply with a “I am courting her.” No explanation, just a plain simple response before he would walk away from the conversation.

Their relationship was one of friendship so awkwardness never lingered. She cherished moments she was with him, either doing something or doing nothing.

But now as she saw Imelda and Poppy laughing and giggling at each other while sneaking kisses when the professor wasn’t looking she felt hurt. Poppy had taken Imelda out for a ride on Highwing. She had prepared a beautiful spread for them, a picnic on the mountains. She also made sure to bring Imelda’s broomstick so she could practice a bit. At night when they laid under the stars Poppy had asked Imelda to the Yule Ball. The Slytherin girl obviously said yes.

What stung her wasn’t her friends' relationship but rather that they began courting three months ago and made it official that day. Whereas she has been courting Ominis for almost two years now.

While other couples kissed the most all they did was hold hands. If they spent the night together they wouldn’t snuggle like most couples did, he’d insist on sleeping on the floor.

Ominis felt her next to him but knew she was million miles away, he placed his hands on her hands. An action that was and is comforting but now feels as if a mockery.

“What are you thinking about, love?” He asked her quietly as he ducked his head towards her.

“Us.” She replied softly, as she turned attention away from the lecture and looked at the boy next to her.

“What about us?” He asked as his thumbs made circles on her hand.

“I don’t think we’re meant to be more than friends.” She said as she pulled her hands from him.

Ominis felt the world crash around him. The dull voice of the professor was replaced by the echoes of her words. Before he could ask her what she meant, to ask for clarity, she had stood up getting ready to go to the library to study for Astronomy.

“Let’s talk about it.” Ominis said, as he grabbed her hand firmly and led her outside the classroom in a secluded corridor.

The hallway was dark and cold. Much to how Ominis felt as she explained how they lacked intimacy. How she loves him in a way she can’t explain but feels as if Ominis is not ready to make the next step. She spoke of how much Ominis made her crave his touch and she wished that maybe one day they would be together but now was not that day.

All the while she spoke Ominis had to control himself before he busted out laughing. He had taken things slow because she always raved about how much she would like to be courted. How she wanted to be shown that she wasn’t an objection of lust but also love.

Ominis truly thought he was doing what she wanted. But he was not going to stop his darling from doing what she wanted. No he was going to let her make that mistake of thinking she can leave him. But she will realize soon she never can.

She left him with a hug saying he’ll always be her friend, Ominis smiled as he whispered “Always.”

She said bye to him before walking to the library. He would usually walk with her towards the library before he’d go to his next class, charms. But today he felt as if he could be late a few minutes or miss it completely.

He took the alternate route to the library avoiding her completely, but as he entered the library his wand told him where she was. Tucked in the corner as she did her notes. Probably from potions. However his wand showed there was a boy next to her. He hid by the long book shelves behind her. Obscuring him from her view.

“Thank you Amit for the notes. I was a bit distracted today by Potions.” She confessed her peachy tone becoming dull at the end.

So she misses me already.

Ominis smirked as he listened in pretending to be reading a book.

“If I may ask, what had gotten you so distracted my friend.” Amit asked in his usual cheery tone.

My? My?! He has no right to call her my. She isn’t hers.

His hand clutched the book too hard as his eye furrowed too much. He knew what Amit was going to do. Actually he knew what all the boys in Hogwarts would do. But they can’t. Because she’s his.

“I - I broke up with Ominis.” She stuttered softly.

“Oh I’m sorry my friend, may I offer a hug?” Amit spoke kindly.

She nodded as she accepted his hug. His hugs made her feel as if she was hugging a brother, a family member. She definitely had a bond with Amit but it was more like siblings than anything.

To Ominis it was absurd. The first man who found out she was single and they are already trying to court her.

“Thank you.”

“You always have a hug waiting for you with me.”

“May I also get a hug, friend?” Natty had spoken from behind them.

“Natty yes you can” The sulking girl replied with a smile as she leaped into her best friend.

“I was comforting her, she has broken up with Ominis.” Amit clarified with a sad smile.

“Well they weren’t dating so it wasn’t much of a break up.” Natty justified.

“I guess you’re right.” She agreed with a small amount of disbelief.

“So who will you go to the Yule ball with?” Amit asked only to feel a kick from Natty.

Alerting him that his questions were stupid and unwarranted.

“I don’t know.” She said softly.

“Why don’t you and Amit go?” Natty offered.

Silence surrounded the group as Ominis registered what happened.

She can’t go with him.

She’s supposed to be with me.

It’s just a stupid dance but she still needs to be with me.

How else will she see I’m meant for her.

It’s too soon to even consider it.

As his mind spiraled he didn’t miss it when she said “Yes, that sounds pleasant.”

The three friends decided to go outside to study. Leaving Ominis behind as he scowled all the way to Charms arriving late. He ignored the professor's warning and when Sebastian asked him why he is late.

“It’s really sweet of you to let me borrow your boyfriend for the dance.” She said, Natty looked shocked and Amit looked shy.

Amit and Natty had been dating for a year. They courted for three months before they made it official. It was all in secrecy so as to not upset Natty’s mother. Not even telling thier own housemates or best friends.

Amit and Natty both looked at eachother, as if they got caught. Which they did.

“Don’t worry your secret's safe with me.” She said giving both Amit a nudge and Natty a wink.

——

It was now the time for the Yule ball. Ominis was besides himself when he was by himself. His mind would wonder at the betrayal of the women he loved. He felt guilty for not giving her what she wanted; she would ask to kiss him or to cuddle with him but he’d refuse.

His thoughts twist like a tight coil, each one digging deeper into his mind.

He had been patient. A gentleman. He had told himself that was the right thing to do. But now, as the night of the Yule Ball unfolds without her by his side, his restraint tastes like poison.

She left him because he was taking it slow. Because he wasn’t a regular man who took what he wanted. And now? Now she would be twirling in someone else’s arms, smiling in the way that used to be for him alone. The thought burns, searing through his ribs like a hot brand.

He grips his wand tighter.

If she had wanted him to be selfish, to take what belonged to him; what would she say if he did it now? If he found her, pulled her close, and whispered into her ear that she was his? Would she fight him, or would she melt into him the way he always imagined?

He never wanted to frighten her. Never wanted to let the hunger in his blood spill over. But she had left him no choice.

Because the truth is, he had been a gentleman for her. And without her, he had no reason to be one at all.

Masterlist

Part 2

Dun dun daaa

Okay this is part 1 the second part will come up eventually.

Dividers by @pommecita