#octavia x you

[ilguna]

supply run, aisle 1 with the prompts #1 & #17 with octavia blake, please?

☼ headspace (Octavia Blake) ☼

warnings; swearing, gun mention, ehh gore, blood mention, knife usage, death, bugs beneath the skin.

wc; 4k

prompt; 1. Always looking out for each other's safety. AND 17. Denying their relationship strongly.

notes; spoilers for s5ep5.

--

“They don’t know we’re coming, so all three northern passes will be wide open.” Octavia starts. She’s standing over a map, three fingers placed over the drawn houses. “But the village will be fortified.” She looks up at Obika. “Where’s the water source?”

He briefly points to a spot on the map. “Here.”

“Why? What are you thinking?” Indra asks.

The front door opens suddenly without an announcement, causing you and Cooper to look over at the intruders. Miller enters first, pulling his hood down, lips pressed together. He was supposed to have left to begin scouting ten minutes ago.

Behind him is Clarke, who moves around the other side of the table. “My question exactly.”

“Miller, your orders were to go—” Cooper begins, cutting off the end of Clarke’s sentence. 

“I know my orders.” Miller shuts her down. “I think we should listen to what Clarke has to say.” 

Octavia’s eyebrows raise as she turns to face Clarke. “You can’t take the sea route.” She says, shaking her head.

“Why? You said the sea is gone.” Indra says. “Is it passable or not?”

“Yes, maybe. But you have to understand—”

“Maybe’s good enough for me.” Octavia tells them, starting to head for the open door. “Let’s move out.”

Bellamy jumps in front of her, causing several of the warriors in the room to immediately pull out their weapons, aiming it at him. You reach out to grab Octavia’s elbow, wanting to move her away from him, but let it drop. They’re family, he’s not going to hurt her.

“O.” Bellamy warns. 

“Stand down.” Octavia says. 

“Please, O, just hear us out.” He says in a lighter tone.

“OCtavia, we’re all on the same team.” Clarke says, Octavia turns, you catch the glimpse of her smirk before the shadow of her hood covers her face. “No one wants to get to that valley more than me. It’s my home. But this way is too risky.”

“Risky how?” You ask.

There’s a brief silence, before Octavia says, “Show me.”

Clarke passes in front of her to get to the second map they have laid out. “You chose the shortest route, which makes sense, but the dry seabed is hit by almost constant sandstorms.”

“We have the tents from the second dawn. Sand won’t be a problem.” Octavia tells her.

“It’s not just sand. Some of it crystallized in Praimfaya. I’m talking shards of glass like razor blades. Your tents will be torn to shreds and so will you.”

“Blodreina is right.” Cooper interjects. “Besides, we can only carry rations for seven days. The sea route will take six. The next shortest path adds fifty miles. That’s two days if we’re lucky.”

“How do we know there won’t be sandstorms on the longer routes?” Indra asks.

“Enough.” Octavia says. “We’re doing this. The hydrofarm is barely feeding us now, so if this is the last living valley on Earth, then it should be ours.”

“Diyoza thinks the same thing.” Bellamy says.

“And so we fight.” Octavia tells him. 

This is the final word, and therefore the signal to clean up. Obika and Cooper reach for the maps, folding them to keep them safe when you bring them on the trip. You share a long look with Octavia, that ends with you nodding, telling her that you’re with her. You’ll follow her as long as she’ll let you. 

She heads for the door, brushing past Bellamy. You’re quick to follow her onto the street, because this means that it’s time to get moving. This was just the final meeting before marching to ensure that everyone in higher power were on the same page about the travel. 

“Are you ready?” Octavia asks.

“Yes, I’ve got everything.” 

“Good.”

“First battalion! Mount up!” Indra’s ordercuts through the air.

—

“We honor those who died so we might live.” Octavia says with her eyes closed, head tilted downward.

You sit on her right, carefully balanced on a box so that you’re able to cross your legs. You lay out your part of the rations in front of you, carefully breaking it into pieces to make it seem like you have more. Or that it’s actually a proper meal.

“Omon gon oson.” Octavia says, tilting her head back.

“Omon gon oson.” You repeat, joining the choir of the circle. 

It means ‘All of me for all of us’. If you put all your efforts into Wonkru, and everyone else does the same, that means everyone benefits. The sacrifices that Octavia makes—the difficult ones especially—are done for the greater good of the clan. If you work together, you survive together.

“Omon gon oson.” 

Octavia sits, taking a piece of the ration from your lap. You don’t object, this is normal. Usually, you pass around the rations until there’s none left, that way everyone shares. It keeps from resource guarding, a problem that you faced only once in the bunker, and it was catastrophic. However, Octavia prefers if you have your own pile that she can pick out of.

If the others were to reach for it, you wouldn’t stop them. You don’t think Octavia would, either, but it wouldn’t end well. The only people that you’ve properly shared with are Cooper and Indra, and that’s because you all work on the same playing field. You’re equals. They’re entitled to your food, just as much as you’re entitled to theirs.

You eat in silence, slowly dwindling your supply. Out of curiosity, you glance over your shoulder to check on Bellamy and Clarke, who’d decided to sit a few feet away on their own boxes. They’d decided back at the bunker that they were going to join you on the way to the valley, regardless of the fact that Clarke doesn’t think this is the best way to go.

Your eyes only find Bellamy, sitting alone, walkie in his hand. Clarke must’ve turned herself in for the night already. 

“Your brother loves you, Octavia.” Indra suddenly says.

“Love is weakness.” Octavia says back. 

An ache begins in your chest when you hear her say that. You turn away from Bellamy, looking back at the fire in the center of the circle. When you look at Indra, her lips are pressed together, face washed with sympathy.

“Gaia’s teachings, no doubt.” Indra says. “I hoped she was beyond such nonsense.”

“It isn’t nonsense.” Octavia mutters. Her eyes are open now, staring right at her friend. “Love no one… and no one can hurt you.”

You swallow thickly, looking down at the rations, finding only a few pieces left. You pick one of them up, passing it to your right, away from Octavia. This earns you a brief glimpse in your direction. 

You’re no longer hungry. In fact, you’d like to escape this conversation as fast as possible. 

“I love you.” Indra tells her, and they share a long look. “Does that make me weak?”

Octavia is uncomfortable, you can tell in the way she quickly shakes her head and faces the fire. “I would never say that to you, Seda.”

She would say it to me, you think bitterly.

A sigh escapes you, hands moving to ball up the cloth you’d laid out for the food. You don’t care where it goes or who it feeds, all you know is that you’re done. You hold it out for Indra to take, watching as her face twists, but not a single word comes to her mouth. You jerk it out in her direction to take. And when she finally does, you get to your feet.

“Where are you going?” Octavia asks, looking up at you.

“To patrol.” 

“They don’t need you out there.” She shoots back.

You open your mouth to counter, when a scream cuts you off. You turn in the direction, eyes searching the darkness of the desert for who it’s coming from.

“Help!”

“We need help!” A man overlaps the first.

“It’s the scouts.” Indra says.

At once, everyone raises to their feet to be on defense. Octavia takes a step forward. “Miller, what is it?”

“Medic! We need help! It’s Obika!” Miller shouts back.

“I’ll get the med kit.” Clarke tells them, taking off.

“Please help us!” MIller’s got Obika thrown over his shoulder, running in your direction. “He needs help!”

“Are we under attack?” Octavia asks.

“I don’t know what’s wrong!” He carefully pulls Obika down, laying him in the sand. He’s only on the ground for a second before he starts convulsing, thrashing around, twisting in uncomfortable angles. “Please! Hurry! Someone help him!”

No one moves forward.

“Out of my way. I can help.” Clarke says, pushing through the ring that’s gathered.

“Not you.” Cooper tells her, stopping her.

Obika continues to scream, growing exhausted, until he stops altogether, panting. 

“Octavia.” Clarke says.

“Let her in.”

Cooper lets Clarke free, allowing her to get down and assess Obika. She checks his pulse, and her face relaxes some, but not enough. “He’s alive, but his heart’s racing.”

“What the hell happened out there?” Octavia asks Miller.

“We separated to cover more ground. Then I hear him screaming out that they’re everywhere. Then I get to him and there’s nothing. It’s just more screaming and—”

Obika’s stomach moves from the inside. There’s several gasps of surprise, as everyone takes a step back. You grab Octavia, pulling her toward you, shielding her from Obika.

“There’s something inside him.” Clarke breathes. “I need a better spot to examine him.”

“The tent.” You suggest, looking at Octavia. She presses her lips together, head tilted to the side, not exactly a fan of it. “Where else?”

“Fine.” She agrees. 

Miller, Bellamy and a few of the others come together to lift Obika from the ground and carry them to Octavia’s main tent. There’s an arms-length distance between Obika and those who are carrying him, afraid that they might get whatever’s inside of him.

“Hurry!” Miller ushers. “Get him in the tent. Get him in the tent.”

You hold open one of the flaps, watching as the group comes in one by one, with Clarke taking up the rear. “Nobody else comes inside.”

“Move!” Miller demands. 

“Right here.” Bellamy directs. “Put him on the table.”

The table they’re talking about holds the maps and lanterns that were laid out earlier, and no one bothered to clean up. You work to clear the wood, allowing them to lay Obika on top. And then immediately hold him down to keep him from thrashing the same way he did in the sand.

“Help me get his jacket off.” Clarke says.

“Clarke, what is this?” Indra asks. 

“I don’t know.” She shifts her attention. “MIller, tell us exactly what happened.”

“Nothing happened. We stopped to eat. Then we separated again. Next thing I knew, he was screaming.”

“Your rations. Show me.”

“Nothing’s wrong with our rations.” Cooper says.

“He was eating when it happened.”

“Cooper’s right. If it was the rations, Miller would have it, too.” Octavia says. “They share everything.”

“Well, it got in him somehow.” Clarke reasons.

Bellamy grabs the lantern, bringing it to a spot on Obika’s leg. “Wait.” When he touches the area, his hand turns red, stained with blood. Cooper works quickly to pull up the pant leg, revealing a puncture wound on Obika’s shin. “Look.”

“It came from the sand.” Clarke says, eyes widening. “We have to go back.”

“What? No.” Octavia’s face twists.

“Octavia, he told MIller that they were everywhere.”

“Yes, but Miller just said he saw nothing.” Octavia tells her.

“Everywhere could mean everywhere inside him.” Cooper says.

“Yeah, but what if they went back inside the sand when Obika started screaming?” You ask.

“I agree with Blodreina.” Cooper tells you with direct eye contact.

“What a surprise.” Indra snarks.

There’s a moment of tense silence that fills the room, where no one moves or says anything, as if they don’t want a fight to break out. You narrow your eyes at Cooper, because you’ve been finding it difficult to get along with her lately. Or like her at all.

“We march on at first light.” Octavia says, moving away from Obika. 

“And Obika?” Miller asks, standing up from his leaned position.

Octavia tilts her head slightly, coming back over to the table. “If he’s not better by then…” She stands over him with closed eyes, which is a telling sign of what she’s about to say next. She doesn’t even have to, if she doesn’t want to. “I’ll end his pain myself.”

She turns, leaving the tent, the flaps whooshing behind her. Cooper is quick to follow.

Clarke and Bellamy share a look, and then they turn their attention to you. You shake your head slightly. “There’s nothing I can do, don’t look at me for help.”

“You can’t talk to her? It’s dangerous to be out here, especially if there’s parasites in the sand.” Clarke says, motioning to the ground.

“She doesn’t value my opinion in the same way she does with Indra or Cooper. I could try to talk to her, but she’ll shut me down and cast me out for the rest of the night. I’m not looking for a fight.” You tell them.

“There’s going to be a fight either way.” Bellamy says. “It’s not decided on what yet.”

“I’m going to stay with Obika.” Clarke says with a sigh, practically ending the discussion.

“I’ll stay with you.” Bellamy offers.

You start toward the flaps, pressing your lips together. You go back to the fire, finding that your original spot has been untouched. You take a seat on the box, crossing your legs, staring at the flickering flames.

You’re left alone for a while, allowing you to think. Nothing helpful comes to mind.

The scouts begin shouting nearby, a warning that something is coming, they can hear it through the sand. You don’t pay attention, not until Octavia comes out from the tents, being shadowed by Indra and Cooper. That’s when you turn, curious on what they could be worried about. 

Well, in fairness, you should be worried, too. 

In the distance, you can see dark clouds barely passing over mountains, moving quickly through the desert. Lightning flashes brightly, aggressively, a sign that this is no ordinary storm. This is an evolution of what Praimfaya had caused.

Clarke passes you, coming to a stop. Her lips are parted, staring at the nightmare that’s approaching. “Sandstorm.”

“It’s blocking the way back.” Bellamy says.

“Can we outrun it?” Indra asks.

“As long as it keeps moving laterally from east to west, we shouldn’t have to, but if the wind shifts—”

“The wind hasn’t met Wonkru.” Octavia says, turning around to face the group that’s gathered behind her. Her eyes land on you briefly, where you’re still sitting next to the dying fire. “Now there’s no choice. We keep moving.”

“Keep moving?” Bellamy asks, jumping in her way. “Thanks to you, we’re stuck between razor-blade winds and burrowing, parasitic bugs.” 

“Thanks to you, we’re at war, Bellamy.” Her voice is grave. 

“Only if you insist on fighting it.”

“Fight or die. That’s all there is. You don’t understand. I get it. Because you’re not one of us.”

“Is Obika one of you?” Bellamy shoots back, glancing at the tent over his shoulder. “Hmm? Because you’re about to end his life like he means nothing.”

Cooper moves forward, planning to end Bellamy’s disrespect. You get to your feet now, hand swiping at her elbow to keep her from touching him, yanking her away.

“I understand that.” Bellamy says to Octavia.

“Let go of me.” Cooper tries to pull her arm from your grasp.

“Do not touch him.” Your eyes bore into hers.

“Or what?” She challenges. “He’s being disrespectful. I can’t tolerate that.”

“She can handle it.” You snap.

Cooper stands taller, rolling her shoulders, despite the fact that you still have her arm in your hand. “Do you have something you want to say?”

“Cooper, no.” Octavia tells her.

“Show some respect.” One of the scouts says.

“Bellamy.” Clarke warns.

“Easy.” Octavia has her eyes on Bellamy. “I’d stop if I were you.”

You let go of Cooper, but your expression doesn’t change.

Obika’s screaming interrupts the conversation, drawing Clarke to him. “He’s awake.”

Bellamy follows after her, but you don’t move right away, shaking your head at Octavia. 

“I don’t want to hear it from you.” She says. “Don’t lay hands on Cooper.”

“You don’t want to hear anything from me.” Your face twists. “I mean nothing to you. You said so yourself.”

You walk away, heading for the tent. By the time you enter with Octavia, they’re holding Obika down. When you look in the middle, you find that the parasite inside is pushing at his stomach, growing bigger by the second, trying to escape.

And then they do.

They burst out, blood flying through the air. You shield your face with your arm, listening to the screeching of the bugs and the squelching of the blood from Obika’s stomach. Someone must knock over a lantern, because the room begins to flash with white.

“Everybody out! Now! Go!” Bellamy shouts.

As you begin to run, a piercing pain hits your forearm. You clutch the area, thinking that you’ve been hit with one of the broken poles, and duck out of the tent. From the corner of your eye, you see Indra reach for one of the torches.

Your vision suddenly goes white, the strength in your knees being pulled from you, as a scream leaves your lips. You hit the sand, teeth grit as you hold onto your arm tighter, throwing your head back.

“Indra!” Octavia shouts. “Burn it down! Kill them all!”

“(Y/n)!” Clarke is right above you, grabbing at your arm, pulling it to your side. “Stop, stop!”

When you open your eyes, you’re already facing your arm, and you’re immediately met with the sight of one of the parasites crawling beneath your skin. A heavy wave of nausea hits you, forcing you to look away before you’re sick.

“What happened?” Octavia demands.

“I don’t know.” Clarke says. “Is there another tent we can go in?”

“Why?” Cooper asks, taking her eyes off the burning tent.

Octavia pales when she sees you on the ground. “Get her up, now!” 

Indra and Bellamy work together to pull you to your feet, which work for the first few seconds, until the tops of your thighs begin to tingle, working its way down. By the time you’re halfway to the tent, all feeling is gone, they’re just deadweight attached to your body.

“I can’t feel my legs.” You tell them, Octavia holds open the flaps.

“It must be its venom.” Clarke says. They drop you in a seat, with Indra standing behind you to hold you upright. “Put her arm on the table.” They flatten your arm against the table, putting the parasite on display. “We can’t let it get into her torso.”

You share a panicked look with Octavia. She steps forward, grabbing your free hand, and squeezing it tightly.

“I need you to make a tourniquet out of whatever you can find.” Clarke tells Bellamy. “And get me a med kit.”

“There were dozens of those worms.” Cooper says, standing off to the side. “They must lay their eggs—”

“Enough.” Octavia snaps.

“Thank you! Go!” Clarke yells at her.

“I’m right here.” Octavia squeezes your hand. “Look at me. We got this.”

You shake your head slightly. Clarke begins to wrap a cloth around your upper arm, tying it tightly.

“Will that stop it?” Bellamy asks.

“It’s not for the worm. It’s for the blood.” Clarke pants. The worm must hit the barrier, because it begins to press against it, trying to get past. You squeeze Octavia’s hand tighter, tears appearing in your eyes. “I need a knife now!”

“What are you waiting for?” Octavia asks.

“(Y/n), you gotta stop moving.”

“It fucking hurts.” You say shakily.

“Whatever you’re going to do, do it.” Indra tells Clarke.

“Okay, this is gonna hurt.” Clarke warns, and then she stabs her knife into your arm.

You try to hold your breath, not wanting to scream. White stars on a black background begin to appear within seconds, pressure building in your head. You can feel Octavia squeezing your hand, encouraging you to do it back. 

“Clarke? Clarke, you’re gonna lose it.” Bellamy says. 

“Like hell I am.” She says, digging around. “I got it! Stay still.” 

“Clarke, just pull it out.” Octavia tells her. “She’s going to pass out.”

“Please, if you can hear me, this is an emergency.” A voice comes over Bellamy’s radio.

“I got this. Take it.” Clarke tells him.

Bellamy pulls it out. “Monty, it’s me. Something tells me we got your emergency beat.”

“I doubt that. The prisoners have an eye in the sky on the mothership, and a missile system on their transport ship.” Monty tells him. Bellamy looks up, Octavia grits her teeth. 

“Missiles?” Clarke asks. 

“They're on their way to you right now. You have to move. Hide somewhere. Take cover.”

“Clarke, get this over with.” You tell her.

“One second.”

“Hide from an eye in the sky? How are we supposed to do that?” Bellamy asks.

“Murphy says we have a friend inside. If he’s right, the eye won’t be watching. You have a window, but you have to move now.” Monty tells him.

Clarke begins to pull, and you watch as this long and fat bug gets pulled out of your arm. The second it’s out, there’s instant relief, but also a painful ache in your muscle from where it had been playing around. The bug begins to screech, Clarke drops the parasite into a thermos, covering the lid.

“Where do we find cover from missiles in the middle of a wasteland?” Indra asks.

Your hand loosens on Octavia’s, her knuckles begin to turn back to their original color. She reaches to push the hair that’s stuck to your forehead, out of your face. 

“If they see us retreat, they’ll stand down.” Clarke says.

“You still don’t understand. Wonkru does not retreat.”

“You do if you want to live.” Bellamy says.

“Now is not the time for a debate. Even if we did retreat, the path home puts us in the middle of a sandstorm.” Indra’s got her eyes on Octavia.

She doesn’t care, teeth baring, “Those ruins are not our home.” She grabs onto your shoulder, leaning forward. “That valley is, and we’re taking it back.” She looks at Bellamy. “Get ready to understand.”

Octavia leaves, this time no one follows after her. You’ve managed to get a handle on your breathing, but your hands are shaking so badly that you can’t grab onto anything properly.

“How are you two together but you’re not able to talk sense into her?” Bellamy breaks the silence, looking at you.

“She’s not my girlfriend.” You tell him. “We’re not together.” You raise your eyebrows, motioning in the direction she went. “That’s why I can’t talk to her. She’s afraid of loving me, which is why she can’t value my opinion, Bellamy. And I’ve tried everything to get out of this position, for better and worse, and I get nowhere.”

“How is that possible? In the past—”

“She’s not in the right headspace.” You interrupt Clarke. “That’s what she told me and I’m tired of trying to convince her otherwise. If you want help, you’ll go to Indra. She’ll get Octavia to come to her senses.” You look at Clarke. “Can we please stitch up my arm, now?”

"So you can't get Octavia to listen to you, so you blindly support her?" Bellamy asks.

"Give me a better alternative without having her call me a traitor to Wonkru." You shoot back at him. "Because I am all out tries there, too. You should talk to Indra before it's too late."

Bellamy lets out a sigh, but takes your advice, pushing the flaps out of the way.

--

this was part of my 3k celebration!!

[sillysimplysilky]

Helluva Boss

Please let me know if one of the links do not work!

Started: 05/29/2024

Ended:

Cast

Multiple Characters

Blitzo

Millie

Moxxie

Loona

Verosika Mayday

Stolas (GN/M Readers)

Octavia (Platonic)

Fizzarolli

Asmodeus

Beelzebub

[n3felibata]

The autistic Stolas headcanon puts so much into perspective. Like whether Viv intended it to be this way or not, this can definitely be interpreted as an autistic man not understanding social cues and lacking empathy which his neurotypical antis just don't understand.

It's not an excuse, but this is what I mean when I say everybody babies autistic people until it comes to the uglier parts they can't romanticize

[itsonlybaby]

˖ㅤㅤ۫ㅤ ˚ ۪ 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 𝜗℘

◜♡﹒﹒𝐫𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭﹒𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭﹒𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐦𝐩𝐭𝐬

ㅤ ˖ㅤㅤ۫ㅤ ˚ ۪˖𓏲﹒smut﹒fluff﹒angst

﹒ ◠ list under cut ! ͘ ౨ ⸝⸝ most rec ꒰ twt links

 　　　　　 ୨୧ 𝐉𝐨𝐡𝐧 𝐌𝐮𝐫𝐩𝐡𝐲 . ৎ .ᐟ ۫

　birthday wish - ModernAU! Throwing a surprise birthday for Murphy, but what happens if the guest of honor is late for the party?

　mine - Murphy was always protective of you, so when he thought Jasper sparked an interest in you- he was quick to shut it down. 　the moon, the sun - When Titus died you set out in search of a new fleimkepa, only finding Murphy; a misunderstood roach. 　full of hate - You hated Murphy since you landed on the ground, you didn't expect him to awaken something in you.

 　　　　　 ୨୧ 𝐁𝐞𝐥𝐥𝐚𝐦𝐲 𝐁𝐥𝐚𝐤𝐞 . ৎ .ᐟ ۫ 　useless - you feel useless to the people of Arkadia, maybe Bellamy could help with that. 　wooden deer - you met in the shop's area of Polis, you trading Bellamy a small wooden sculpture, which he kept. Thinking of you every day, every day for 2,026 days. 　divine - ever since the massacre of the grounder army he's been different, but you don't give up on him 　haircuts - bellamy noticed you have been losing sleep over your son, so he decided to help out. Only, he doesn't stop helping out.

　failed mission - Azgeda assassins are supposed to be stone-cold, and feel nothing, but what happens when a certain boy tries to gain your trust 　jealous meeting - bellamy calls a group meeting to decide certain defense plans and catch up with everyone, but his jealousy gets the best of him. 　longing dreams- you had a dream about your best friend Bellamy, and you try to suppress the feelings by avoiding him. Bellamy doesn't let this slide. 　flowers of you - when the second praimfaya hit you thought you were the last person on Earth, until the group came back down, landing in your valley. 　the wolf and the lamb - you stumble across a knocked-out person, doing the only thing you can do you save him; not knowing with that would lead to. 　pyramid - it wasn't uncommon for you to flirt with Bellamy, but it was unusual for him to flirt with you back. 　friends with benefits - you and Bellamy were friends, friends who often did each other favors.

 　　　　　 ୨୧ 𝐌𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐲 𝐆𝐫𝐞𝐞𝐧 . ৎ .ᐟ ۫ 　whenever you want - you've been crushing on Monty for years now, and you decide it's time to give him a hint, which doesn't go as planned

 　　　　　 ୨୧ 𝐉𝐚𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐫 𝐉𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐚𝐧 . ৎ .ᐟ ۫ 　 loading. . .

 　　　　　 ୨୧ 𝐂𝐥𝐚𝐫𝐤𝐞 𝐆𝐫𝐢𝐟𝐟𝐢𝐧 . ৎ .ᐟ ۫ 　 loading. . .

 　　　　　 ୨୧ 𝐌𝐚𝐫𝐜𝐮𝐬 𝐊𝐚𝐧𝐞 . ৎ .ᐟ ۫ 　  loading. . . 

 　　　　　 ୨୧ 𝐑𝐚𝐯𝐞𝐧 𝐑𝐞𝐲𝐞𝐬 . ৎ .ᐟ ۫ 　 loading. . .

 　　　　　 ୨୧ 𝐎𝐜𝐭𝐚𝐯𝐢𝐚 𝐁𝐥𝐚𝐤𝐞 . ৎ .ᐟ ۫ 　 loading. . .

 　　　　　 ୨୧ 𝐋𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐨𝐥𝐧 . ৎ .ᐟ ۫ 　 loading. . .

 　　　　　 ୨୧ 𝐊𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐑𝐨𝐚𝐧 . ৎ .ᐟ ۫ 　 loading. . .

 　　　　　 ୨୧ 𝐋𝐞𝐯𝐢𝐭𝐭 . ৎ .ᐟ ۫ 　sneaky memories - You got captured in Bardo, and while Levitt was sifting through your memories he came across a more private one.

ㅤㅤㅤ౨౿ ﹒𝐫𝐮𝐥𝐞𝐬 ㅤ

𐙚ᣟ݂﹒𝐰𝐨𝐧𝐭 𝐝𝐨﹒

⸝⸝ incest ╰﹐siblings, parent/child, cousins

⸝⸝ pedophilia ╰﹐if the reader or character is a minor I won't do it

⸝⸝ inflation

⸝⸝ sexual assault ╰﹐this goes for cnc, and rape

⸝⸝ scat play ╰﹐piss, and shit

𐙚ᣟ݂﹒𝐰𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐝𝐨﹒

⸝⸝ safe age gap ╰﹐they are still of age, but there's a gap

⸝⸝ stalking ╰﹐not yandere stalking

⸝⸝ twt smut visuals ╰﹐twitter porn I think matches a character's vibe

⸝⸝ anything else you can think of ╰﹐if I don't like your request, I wont write it, but that's rare

ㅤㅤㅤ౨౿ ﹒𝐚𝐛𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐦𝐞

　just call me baby.

　i am 19 years old, this is my main blog that I've now abandoned but cant delete > @saturdaykrualt

　my discord is 'itsjustbaby'

　im really passionate about creative arts, such as painting, writing, and music.

　i have to listen to music while writing, here's the playlist!

　and this is my main playlist

ㅤ ˖ㅤ ㅤ۫ ㅤ if you have any questions don't be scared to ask﹗✦

　

[starry-bi-sky]

Childhood Friends Danny and Jason: Ch2 Remastered

-------------------------------------------------------------- late at night when the stars don't look quite right -------------------------------------------------------------- there's something burning in the empty room inside of my head fill it up with doubt let it in, let it spread

Jason nearly falls flat on his face when he sees the photo of Danny. He’s in a warehouse, finishing up with a gang selling drugs on his turf. The guys he’s got tied up are cursing up a storm at him, throwing every insult under the sun his way that he’s all heard before. His eyes drag over to them, and silently Jason adjusts his jacket to reveal the guns strapped to his thighs, his hand hovering over the handle of one. 

They all fall silent, and Jason moves his hand away. His phone in his other hand, texting Oracle to alert the police. Jason hates that he has to; these guys will be out of their cells in a matter of months, and nothing will change. 

But he’ll play nice. 

And then his phone buzzes, and when Jason looks down he sees a banner from Tim. A message he planned on ignoring, but his eyes skim over the text on instinct, and suddenly the air is stolen right from his lungs, and his thumb is hitting the screen before he can really think it through.

[Hey Jason, your best friend just appeared in Gotham for the first time since your funeral.]

Impossible. He thinks, yanking his phone close to his nose, as if that will make it any less real or fake. Danny hasn’t been in Gotham in years, Jason checked. But then the image loads, and then he’s staring Danny Fenton in the face. And then he’s greedily tracing every minute, new detail he can find. The gang left half-forgotten in his mind.

Danny’s got an undercut, it looks self-done. It looks good. He looks taller. He’s got piercings in his ears, gold and jewels lining up the sides like a magpie’s find. He’s got an eyebrow piercing. 

Something old, something new; Danny is smiling and it still looks just as Jason remembers it. Crooked, lopsided, warm like the sun and belying the mischief underneath it. He remembers to breathe in that moment, and the sound comes in sharp. Danny’s eyes are as blue as they’ve ever been. 

(“I don’ get why books talk so much about peoples’ eyes.” Danny complains to him one day when he’s visiting the manor, his legs thrown over Jason’s back like an anchor tied to its ship. They’re sunk into the mattress of Jason’s bed, sunlight peering through the windows. “They’re just eyes! I don’t need t’know that they’re ‘as blue as the sky,’ or- or the ocean, or whatever blue thing in the world there is.”) 

(Jason’s smile comes to him like breathing, and he twists around to lay on his back. His arms trap Danny’s legs to his stomach. “Pretty sure it’s jus’ for emphasis on how much they’re noticing the person’s face.”)

(Danny’s face scrunches up, and Jason’s smile splits into a grin, heart swelling three sizes on instinct. “I think it’s stupid, s’just some fuckin’ eyes.”)

(“Eyes are windows to the soul, Dan.” Jason retorts, barking out a laugh when Danny gives him a deadpan look. His hands creep for a pillow, one of the soft downy ones wrapped in silk, and he throws it at Danny’s face. “And besides, speak for yourself! Your eyes are the bluest thing I’ve ever seen.”) 

But most importantly, Danny looks tired. 

Hiding is something that comes free with the purchase of living in Gotham, and Danny’s good at hiding things, he always has, but Jason knows him like the palm of his hands. He looks tired, and Jason wants to reach through the screen and ask him why. There’s an age-worn look there, catching in the flint of his iris, where his smile doesn’t quite reach his eyes. 

Jason gets the ETA from Oracle, then leaves as fast as his legs can carry him and his grappling hook can zip through the air. He needs to see Danny with his own eyes, to confirm himself that Danny was here, and that it wasn’t his mind playing tricks on him. Or that it was Tim playing a cruel joke on him — and if it was, he’ll have to rethink his whole killing thing. 

Gotham’s air is warm and suffocating, but her winds bite at him as he soars through it.

It’s second nature for him to find the west end balcony, and Jason finds himself with his feet locked in place on the building beside it. Grappling hook in hand, and a balloon in his lungs, all swelled up and squishing the air out of him. 

It’s just his luck —with whatever he has left— that Danny is there as well. In the same spot he’s always been, with a cigarette caught between his teeth. He’s stuck halfway, head tilting, eyes closed, with the shadows of Gotham on his back and the light of the gala at his front. 

For a moment, for a fleeting, terrifying moment, Jason thinks Danny’s going to tilt himself back off the side.The thought has him blindly tilting himself forward with his heart in his throat. Hands reaching for his grappling hook, swinging down to drop down beside him.

Danny is staring at him before his feet even hit the ground, face nigh unreadable beyond the small, wary furrow of his brows. Danny’s never looked at him like that before, it feels like  stumbling on the last step of the stairs. 

Then, like fire to black powder something flashes and ignites in Danny’s eyes. Mouth curling, eyes burning, for a moment, just a moment, they’re kids again, getting into fights and turning soft hands punch-rough. Danny looks at Jason like he’s going to tear him to shreds.

Jason’s mouth runs dry like a desert in the summer, but his blood chills in fear cold in his veins. Why are you looking at me like that? His mouth opens, but his tongue is leaden in his throat, and no sound comes out. It’s me. Don’t you recognize me?  

Danny yanks the cigarette from his mouth like it burns him, his free hand gripping onto the railing like it’s the tether to a leash, nails threatening to turn into talons. “Red Hood.” He says, voice low and timbre, smoke dripping from his lips like dragon’s breath.  

Oh.

That’s right. Jason suffocates on his heart as it sinks and soars with relief. Danny doesn’t know it’s him. In his tunnel vision, he forgot that simple, easy fact. It’s not because it’s Jason that he’s angry. It still doesn’t explain, though, why Danny looks at him like he ought to sink his teeth into his throat and rip him open. 

He’s half-distracted by that, and then distracted by the need to drink in the sight of Danny again. A photo is one thing; the real person is another, and with his fear subsiding, Jason rakes his eyes over his best friend and swallows him whole. His eyes are bluer in person, his memory and Tim’s photo doesn’t do them justice, and Danny inherited his dad’s height. He’s gotten so tall. They both have. They both used to be such scrawny kids. 

So distracted is he, that he forgets to respond to Danny, to say anything. Not until Danny tries to dismiss himself, and Jason kickstarts into gear. White hot panic fills in his lungs, burning him up like magma. No, no, no, he’s moving without thinking, always when he’s with him, and he nearly latches onto Danny. Nearly wraps his hands around his arm to hold him in place. Don’t leave. You’re finally here; don’t go. 

Danny stays, but he stares at Jason’s reaching hands like he’ll bite them off, stares at Jason with his eyes burning, watchful. Jason’s excuse is lousy and he knows it, but he wants, wants, wants to stay and figure out every new thing about Danny. 

And he feels like he’s losing something. Time bleeds together beside him and Jason feels trapped behind a glass wall of his own making. Something old, something new. The distance of which Danny keeps him at is foreign to him. He hates it. 

Tell me everything, he thinks, because he can’t find the words to say it. He hands Danny a cigarette instead, and hopes that it’s enough. Tell me everything and more, tell me what I’ve missed. 

In the end, he still feels like he’s losing something, but he also feels like he’s missing something. Answers that are water, and that water is slipping through his fingers. Danny leaves him with more questions than answers; something that’s never happened before, and Jason watches him walk back inside with a spinning mind. 

What do you mean you spoke to my ghost?

I told you that the Joker killed me?

Have I told you anything else? Have I already told you everything I’ve wanted to?

What happened while I was gone? 

Is that why you’re scarred?

Because Jason isn’t blind, he’s never been. Not in Crime Alley, not as Robin, not now. And not when it comes to his best friend. He sees the silver lightning scars ripped jagged up Danny’s arm, sees that they disappear under his sleeves. He saw, faded as they were, invisible until the light hit right, as they spread like tree roots up his throat and across the side of his face.

Scars that Danny’s never had before. Scars he didn’t have when Jason was alive the first time. Scars he didn’t have the last time Jason saw him. Or — what he remembers to be the last time he saw him, because apparently he saw him as a ghost. He sees the curve of his ears and how they point more than a human’s should, he saw the glint of his canines, sharper than they should be; sharper than he remembers. Metaphorical fangs turned real.   

Jason should’ve asked where he got them from, should’ve taken Danny by the front of his collar and stopped him from leaving. Who did this to you? He should have said, a fire burning in his chest and wrapping around his throat, pulling his voice into a snarl. He should have said, his guns weighing heavy on his sides; Who did it. I’ll take care of it. Just tell me who. Tell me everything. 

Instead, something crawled into his mouth and died, and his tongue is glued to the roof of it. And he doesn’t say anything, because saying something means telling his best friend who he is. It means having to take off his helmet and mask. It means telling his best friend that he’s alive, that he has been. That despite being two halves of a whole, Jason spent five years letting him think he was dead. 

He can’t tell him, not when he’s in too deep already. Not when Jason is so unrecognizable to who he used to be that if he told him, Danny would hate him.

And Danny is still grieving him. So plain as day mourning, still angry over his death. Angry enough that he wants the Joker dead, angry enough that he wants to hang the noose and kick the chair out himself. 

Jason wishes he told him that he looks tired. 

Instead he’s standing alone on the balcony, trying to get his thoughts in order as music blares muffled through the gold-light door. He’s left staring at the crushed cigarette laying on the ground, Gotham’s ambience at his back and a poem hanging in the air that he has no words for. It’s already there. Like stars on a painted ceiling.

And there are so many questions he needs answers for. 

Like his ghost. His ghost.

What did Danny mean by his ghost? 

Does he really want to kill the Joker himself? Was it just the grief talking? Jason knows — or thinks he knows — Danny like the palm of his hands. He’s been through everything with him, he’s seen him say something and then immediately follow through with it. He knows when he’s being serious, he knows when he’s not. 

Danny wants to kill the Joker. Stealing is one thing; murder is another. And Danny wore a look on his face that looked like he meant it when he told Red Hood that he wanted to kill Joker. But saying and doing are two different things. Jason doesn’t know what to think.  

Something old, something new. Danny is still the same, and yet he’s changed so much. 

What did Danny mean by his ghost? 

Jason doesn’t ever remember being a ghost. But Danny knows the Joker killed him. He knows how he killed him. Danny’s parents are ghost scientists, and Jason remembers the letter he got one day telling him about the portal they were building in the basement. 

He remembers thinking about telling Bruce — this was something beyond the glowing green samples stored in the fridge, giving life to the food inside. This was beyond the weapons, the inventions they made that only saw the light of day when the Drs. Fenton brought them up to showcase them.

And he didn’t, because if he hadn’t told Bruce about everything before, he wasn’t going to start. He admits, it was part fear that Bruce might intervene and prevent him from seeing Danny that he didn’t.  

Neither of them had expected it to work — but it sounds like it did. 

(Jason has avoided Amity Park for a reason. He knows he wouldn’t be able to stop himself from going there if he didn’t. But now, he just might have to look into it. He’s missed too much.) 

And Danny wants to kill the Joker, and Jason isn’t sure if he means it or not. Because the look on his face when he said it is oh-so familiar. It’s the one he wore when he needed Jason to distract the clerk while he snuck behind the counter to steal cigarettes from the shelves. It was the one he wore when an older kid cornered them near one of Gotham’s many alleys, threatening them over something Jason can no longer remember clearly. 

(He remembers puffing himself up, rearing for a fight. Danny, with glass in his teeth and blood between his fingers, lands a square kick to the spot between the kid’s legs. His knees hit the ground, and Danny’s hand found Jason’s to drag them both out of there.)

It’s the look of a boy, Gotham-touched grime in his soul, soft fingers turned calloused and scarred, about to do something he’s not going to regret. It’s the look of a boy that has set his mind to something and is going to do it. Some might call it the eyes of a cornered animal, but Danny’s never been cornered, not when Jason’s been with him. 

(But Jason hasn’t been with him. Not for the last five years. So can he really say it wasn’t the eyes of a cornered animal?...Yes.) 

Jason gets off the balcony before he can be seen, and he shouldn’t, but he loiters. He should get back to patrol, the night is never over. Not in Gotham. But he stays, hidden atop the roof nearby.

—---------------

An hour later, Danny walks out the doors with a man Jason recognizes as Vlad Masters — another new mystery for him to uncover. The paparazzi have long since left. Gotham’s nights are dangerous and everyone knows that, not even the vultures would stick around for a scoop, not unless there was something worth seeing. 

A black limousine pulls up beside them, and Masters walks around the back to reach the other side. He’s bristled like an angry cat. “I thought I told you not to embarrass me.” He hisses, eyes snake-narrowed.

Danny, for the most part, just looks unbothered, his hands shoved into his pockets without a care. But he narrows his eyes right back, an expression made of stone. “You have a pretty low bar for what you think is embarrassing.” 

Masters just scowls, “I don’t understand you, I would have thought you’d spend the whole time mingling with the Waynes, badger.” He says. Danny ruffles at the nickname, lips curling into a snarl. Jason finds himself unconsciously mimicking him. “And yet, I find you sequestered away in the corner like a little fly on the wall. Were they not up to your standards?”  

‘Sequestered’ Danny mouths mockingly, eyes burning like he was going to claw his hand down Masters’ face. Instead, his hands dig into his arms. “I did talk to them, that’s more than I can say for you. You couldn’t even keep Mister Wayne’s attention for more than a minute.”  

Jason frowns, and Masters scoffs, puffing up like an owl with its ego bruised. “Regardless, I am not the one losing here. Or did you forget what you promised me?” 

Jason’s frown deepens. Danny doesn’t promise anything. At least, he doesn’t promise with just anyone. He deals; he repays; he indebts. But he does not promise. Promises were power, with only one side benefiting. It was trust to promise someone something. Danny doesn’t trust easily, neither of them do.

Something that hasn’t changed. Danny rears up angrily, mouth twisting, teeth baring, snarling out a fury sound. A wire cut live and sparking. He grabs the door handle and yanks it open harshly. “I didn’t promise you anything, Vlad.” He hisses, Jason strains to hear him. “I offered and you agreed. Do not fucking twist my words.” 

There it is. Jason should’ve known better, guilt string-plucking in his chest for his doubt. Danny doesn’t promise things; not to people like this Masters guy, at least. 

Danny grabs something from the car and throws himself back. “Don’t wait up.” He snarls, a wild thing just as Jason is, and yanks on a red hoodie over his arms. It zips up, and hangs off him, smothering the vest and button-up beneath. “I’ll meet you back at the hotel.” 

Then he slams the door shut, shoulders hunched and with a scowl carved into his face. They’re both made of broken glass; independence — disobedience — and rebellion cut into them from every broken beer bottle shattered on the streets.

(Jason makes a mental note to look into Vlad Masters — Danny’s never told him about him, so they must have met after he died. The man leaves a rot in Jason’s mouth, and there is a greed festering inside him that Jason knows has left him in decay.)

(He doesn’t like how close Masters acts with him, doesn’t like the affiliations between them both. Masters reminds him of Luthor and every other rich socialite with their hands in something dirty. He hates even more that Danny is making deals with him. What has he missed?)  

Jason follows after Danny, partially concerned that Danny is wandering Gotham alone. Regardless of what he can do, Gotham is still dangerous. It is bone-rotting, lung-choking and unforgiving. Danny knows this, Jason knows he does. He’s partially curious to know just where he’s going, and whether or not it was important enough to visit in the dead of Gotham’s bloody nights.

Danny surprises him — slipping between alleyways, sticking close to the shadows. Someone taught him how to be stealthy — or, at least, refined what stealth Danny already had. More new things that Jason needs to learn. More things he will never get to know. 

Who taught you that? 

Just what, exactly, have I missed?

I want to know everything. 

Five years is a long, long time to be away from someone. If a caterpillar can become a butterfly in two weeks, then what can five years do to a human? It’s a long time to change, to become something else entirely. Jason’s become someone new, and he thinks, so has Danny. 

Dread pools in his ribs, into his lungs, and weighs heavy on his heartstrings. The urge to drop down in front of Danny, to grab him by the arms and ask him to tell him everything, returns with a vengeance. This is why he avoided Amity Park. 

Will I still know you like I used to? Jason trails behind Danny from the rooftops, like a ghost. Do you still love the stars? Do you still take tea over coffee? Will you tell me, if I ask? 

And if he doesn’t? If he doesn’t ask, like he isn’t right now? 

If he doesn’t ask about his ghost — something that still boggles his mind, because it means the Fentons were right and that portal might have worked, and Danny found Jason’s ghost? If he doesn’t ask what his ghost told him, if he told him anything else? Did his ghost tell you that he was Robin, like he always wanted to?  

He will just have to keep his questions to himself. He will just have to tuck them into a folder in his mind, and file it under all of his other regrets.  

He feels like he’s Robin again; keeping secrets and hiding things from his best friend because it simply wasn’t safe enough for him to know. It’s maddening.  

Why has nothing changed since he died? Why has nothing changed, now that he was alive?

—---------------

Danny leads him to the Gotham Cemetery. Jason freezes outside the gates. Oh, he thinks.

Oh.

He thinks back to what he thought earlier. 

What could possibly be so important that he’d go to it in the dead of Gotham’s night? The cemetery. Of course. Something old, something new, something bittersweet sets over his tongue that he swallows down. 

Jason forces himself to follow. 

“Hey.” Danny says as Jason settles behind a tree, voice gentle in foreign familiarity. He’s standing at Jason’s grave, his hands shoved into his pockets. The light is low but it doesn’t stop Jason from seeing the starlight-soft look in Danny’s eyes and his half-tilted smile, the smile that Jason is more familiar with than the wary scowls. “Sorry I’m late.”

Guiltish misery wraps its hands around Jason’s lungs. Pin-prickingly, stabbing at his heartstrings, Jason’s mouth moves on its own; “It’s okay.” but no sound comes out. Danny doesn’t hear him, and neither does Jason himself.  

Danny sits down before Jason’s tombstone, groaning low and tiredly as his legs fold beneath him. He’s older than Jason, and immediately his mind switches over to all the jokes he used to lob him with. 

(“Need help crossing the street, old man?” Jason, eight years old, asks with a grin so wide and painful across his face; giggles in his chest. He hooks his elbow with Danny, and keeps him tight against his ribs. “You’ll need all the help you can get in your ancient age.”)

(“I’m not that old.” Danny says, glaring at him before they scurry across the street with the light still green. Traffic laws are a joke in Crime Alley, it’s like a game of frogger as the sound of honking horns and screeching tires follows their heels. “We’re six months apart!”)

(“Six months and four days, actually.” Jason corrects when they reach the other side, snickering as they race down the sidewalk. Drivers lean out their windows and curse them out as they get away, Danny dodges an empty soda can thrown at his head. “Can’t forget the four days.”)

“I would’ve come sooner.” Danny tells him, pulling him from child-fuzzy memories and back into reality. Jason peers around the tree to see him running a hand through his hair, head ducked down. His palm splaying against his neck. “Sorry I didn’t. I got scared.” 

Scared? Jason blinks, he leans against the bark and bumps his helmet against the wood. The thunk is loud in his ears, but Danny makes no indication that he heard. Of what? 

But Danny doesn’t say what, he drops his hand and glances off to the side. He sits like a man who isn’t quite sure what to do, his mouth pressed into a thin line, his eyes scrunched. Grief carves into the lines of his face like a sculptor carving into marble. 

“I was gonna get you flowers on my way here.” Danny continues. His voice cracks, begins to wobble, and Jason sees Danny’s jaw tighten and his eyes close for a moment. When they open, there’s a wobbling sheen on his bottom lashes; tears threatening to bleed.   

Danny flicks at the tears with the nail of his thumb, it does nothing. It just makes his breath hitch. “Um, but they- uh, didn’t have any open on the way here.” He says, giving Jason’s grave a tremulous smile. “Sorry, I’ll make sure to pick some up on my next visit.”   

Next visit. Jason’s heart squeezes uncomfortably, before he reels at the words. Danny’s going to be visiting again, after five years of being out of Gotham? Next visit, why are you visiting again? Was this the reason he came to Bruce’s little charity ball with Vlad Masters? So that he could come visit Jason’s grave?

It couldn’t have been. There are other ways to get to Gotham that don’t require making deals with shady rich men. Danny’s smart, smarter than Danny himself gives him credit for. He’s brilliant. Why did he need Masters’ help to get him to Gotham?

There had to be another reason why.

God, there were so many questions that Jason wants the answers to. He’ll find them, one way or another. 

But, he focuses in again. Danny is only here for the night. One night, and he doesn’t know when he’ll be back again. Jason wants to commit every detail of his best friend to memory before he leaves. 

“You like zinnias, right?” Danny pets the grass at his side absently, and yes. Yes, Jason does, and Danny remembers. Even five years from his death, he remembers. Of course he does. 

“Yeah, you do. You used to pick the petals up off the sidewalk from those uh, fuck — the vendors. The Victorian flower language too, I think. Got a book on that somewhere. I’ll get you red an’ yellow ones.” 

Grief traps in Jason’s chest, and he barely tamps down the bitter laugh forcing itself out of the chokehold of his throat. You fucking sap, you big fuckin’ sap.

Red zinnias. Steadfast beating of the heart. The irony. It’s got double the meaning now, now that he’s alive. But Danny doesn’t know that, so the heart that’s beating could only belong to him. But even with Jason alive, he’s hiding. Between the both of them, the only one here with a beating heart is Danny.

(Between the two of them, the only heart here is one that's made between the two of them.)

Yellow zinnias. Daily remembrance. Of course. That doesn’t need any explanation, the writing is right there on the wall. Raised, so that even the blind may read it. It doesn’t need to be said what that means, Jason can hear it on the wind, in the grass, in the trees. His heart crumpling like a rag being twisted out to drain the dirty water soaking in it. 

I miss you.

I miss you. 

I miss you. 

I’m right here. Is what Jason wants to say. It’s what he should say. He should step out from behind the tree; should speak up and say something. To announce his presence. To do something to let Danny know that he’s speaking to someone who is more than a ghost (who feels like one anyways) and a corpse in the ground. 

Here I am. Here I am. HERE I AM.

His feet are gravebound to the dirt, his tongue cut out of his mouth and shoved into a jar. He feels, in some way, like he’s clawing out of his own grave again, but the dirt keeps falling and his arms are burning. His lungs are filled with more soil than air. He’s not getting out. 

Shame burns cigarette smoke in the back of his throat, shriveling up what little remains of his tar-filled heart. It should be his lungs, and it’s got that too. His feet are grave-bound to the floor.

Danny’s begun to cry, much to Jason’s horror. It should be more incentive for Jason to step out. He doesn’t. His best friend sniffles and scrubs at his face, soaking tears into his hoodie’s sleeve. “I’m sorry for not visitin’ sooner,” he says, voice spiraling with grief, “I don’t have an excuse. I should’ve come sooner. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.” 

Don’t be, Jason thinks. Finds himself surprised by the truth of it. He should be upset. Five years and not a single visit. He abandoned him like everyone else. Except he didn’t. 

He’s not upset, he can’t be. Not when Danny’s finally here. Not when he’s still crying over him five years after the fact. Not when he’s going to put flowers on his grave that means he thinks of him daily. Not when Danny knows who killed him and wants him dead. 

Jason isn’t sure of what to think of that still. He wants Bruce to kill the Joker. More importantly he wants change in Gotham. He wants something to be done. He doesn’t know if Danny is being honest or not — and honesty doesn’t mean anything if someone doesn’t act on it.  

Danny continues talking to his grave, his voice full with sorrow. He talks about the gala, about running into Bruce and talking to him again. 

Jason listens in dutiful silence, soaking in Danny’s voice like a sponge. This is what he was expecting on the balcony; this easy conversation. Except it’s not a conversation, Danny is talking and not expecting a response. Jason feels like a stranger imposing on his own grave.He should slink away, let Danny have his peace on his own.

He refuses to move. He can’t bring himself to.

If he closes his eyes, he can pretend that he's sitting in front of him. He can pretend he’s thirteen again, with him and Danny crawled under the bed at the manor and trading all the stories they couldn’t fit in their letters. Danny tells him about another fight he had with Dash Baxter, eyes rolling but smug teeth flashing in a stifled smile. Then he tells him about something Sam and Tucker did; about one of Sam’s protests she led against the biology lab, and Tucker coding his PDA to play Doom. Easy, stupid middle schooler shit.

They’d sneak out to the balcony for their vices, Danny clutching a carton of cheap cigarettes in hand. Alfred always finds the ones Jason hides, so they usually share whenever Danny comes to visit. Jason tells him about Gotham Academy, about the people there and the classes. Prep school is another beast entirely, he likes seeing Danny’s reactions to the politics that goes on inside. 

Or, further back, they’re eight again, climbing a rickety fire escape to the rooftop and hanging their feet over the edge to find Batman and Robin. Danny was in the lead before he left for Amity Park. Jason remembers it clearly; they’d spent all night outside on that rooftop. 

Jason doesn’t close his eyes.

Jazz decided to change career goals; psychology’s become more of a hobby for her, and she’s going to go to med school instead. She’s thinking of doing an internship in Metropolis. Danny says he’s glad that it’s not Gotham, and when he told Jazz this, she laughed at him and told him that she was going to save that for later. 

She’s Gotham-touched too, she knows it’s blood just as much as Danny does. She wants to help the people there, but knows what Gotham’s like. She knows what she can and cannot do. Determination doesn’t equate skill, it just means the willingness to learn. 

Sam is staying in Amity Park and doing online classes for college, but Tucker got a full ride scholarship in software engineering. Danny’s thick with pride as he tells Jason’s headstone. Jason’s happy for him — they weren’t close, not like he and Danny were, but they were still friends. 

Jason soaks it all in; tell him more. He wants to know everything. 

"I don't know what I want to do." Danny says when he’s finally done talking about everyone else, his chin laying on his knees. “S’not like I can be an astronaut anymore, but there’s not anything I can see myself doing.”

The corner of his mouth coils, sardonic. “I’ve had five years to come up with somethin’ new, and I’ve come up with nothin’ at all.” He huffs. It’s a rough, bitter sound. Gotham has been steadily seeping back into his voice since he arrived in the graveyard, and now it comes out thick, like it never left. 

Danny’s face falls slack, like a puppet losing its strings, and he sinks into himself. “I guess I…” He exhales slow. “I’ve just been distracted.” A faraway glaze eclipses his eyes, and before they close, tears begin to bleed onto his eyelids. Again, grief mars the lines of his skin, settling into the curve of his mouth and threading between his brows like second nature.

Fuck, it’d be so easy for Jason to just step out. Move. His best friend is grieving. He could save him the pain of it and tell him now. Move, move, move. 

He doesn’t move.

For a while, there’s nothing but silence, just Jason hiding in his shame; a rat on the street would be bolder than him. Danny’s eyes don’t open. Eventually, his head tilts and slumps into his knees, Jason almost thinks, somehow, that he’s fallen asleep — but Danny’s hand threads into the hair on the back of his head, his finger beginning to tap an invisible beat into his skull. 

It’s the perfect opportunity for him to slip away. Danny’s distracted; lost in his thoughts. He won’t notice if Jason slinks off now. He could go and hide away on a roof nearby, ensuring that Danny gets his rightful privacy without leaving him to the teeth of the streets.  

Jason still doesn’t move. 

Danny begins to hum. It’s a low, breathy sound, and it shakes unevenly. There’s no discernible melody, but a breeze picks it up and travels it through the air anyway, rooting Jason to his spot. His throat swells, and his back sinks into the bark behind him. 

For a full minute, maybe two, Danny just hums. It’s a simple tune, but it fills the graveyard with the sound. When it goes up, he sharpens, when he goes down again, it flats, and sometimes it wobbles.  

When he lifts his head, when he finally opens his eyes, he’s still humming. Soon it dies down, and the next time Danny exhales, it comes out tumultuous and slow. His hand slips heavy from his head and drops into the grass. 

“Where’d you go, Jay?” Danny mutters, and despite his voice coming flat, he still sounds so tired. Danny’s eyes flick up, lifting off the grass to burn into the headstone. He’s not even looking at him, and yet Jason still freezes up, he still feels pinned under the weight of his stare. “I know you’re still out there, somewhere. I know it.” 

Jason breathes in shakily, a sting deep in the back of his throat. He gives no answer; guilt is an animal with claws, and it burrows deep into Jason’s heart to make itself a home between the tendons. He’s right here. 

Silence falls over them again, and this time it’s only the sound of the city around them that bleeds into the air. Danny stares at Jason’s grave, staring like he’s expecting an answer. He doesn’t get one. 

Danny sighs out low, and stands. His knees tremble slightly, and he rubs his sleeve into his eyes, catching the stray tears falling from his lashes. Like breaking a spell, Jason jolts from the fog of sorrow hanging in the air. 

“I’ll see you later, an’ I’ll make sure to bring you those flowers you like.” He tells him, and miraculously, a shadow of a smile flits over Danny’s mouth. “Y’better be here when I get back, alright? I’ll kick y’fucking ass if you’re not.” 

Jason bites back a huff, his mouth upturning in a wobble. I will, he thinks, and watches Danny trail out of the graveyard with his hands in his pockets. He waits until he’s disappeared behind the gate before following.   

Guilt is a thing with claws, and Jason leaves the cemetery with it eating his tongue. But he makes sure Danny gets back to his hotel safe before he slinks back to Crime Alley; he might not be a ghost anymore, but he can still trail behind Danny like he is. 

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

ayy i finally got chapter 2 of CFAU/TMWS edited/redone! It had to get rewritten because a lot of stuff became obsolete in the wake of the new chapter 1. and also it just kinda. fucking sucked imo lmao

(you can also read it here on my ao3!)

[akirathedramaqueen]

No rest for the wicked

What often keeps my mind occupied and worried for the last couple of... weeks, or even months, maybe, is what might happen to Stolas's relationship with Octavia in the near future.

We know something bad is brewing. The trailer gave us enough information to freak out but learn nothing from it. I think though that I have found yet another foreshadowing, and I am sad I did. I was not sure if I should post it since predictions and speculations are not quite my style, but fuck it, I’ll roll with it. I want you to suffer with me <3 Besides, after yesterday's @tealvenetianmask's wonderful post about Stella and how society enables her behavior, and my rambly reblog, which delves more into Stolas's relationships with Octavia and how they are affected, I decided I need to let it out of my system.

So, you see... while I believe this screenshot is our last hope for us, the Stolitz nation—that these two dumbasses will have ANOTHER chance to talk properly...

It implies that something arguably worse than their breakup is going to happen. Something on the 'whole palace is in ice and Stolas is in immediate mortal danger' level of 'worse.' Something bad enough to make them forget all the shit they’ve gone through with their disastrous miscommunication and unite to face a common threat.

Andrealphus.

Something that would make Stolas to leave quickly and forcibly. Run for his life. Disappear, sweeping off his trail, without Octavia knowing...

And let her think he ran off with Blitzø.

Are you gonna run off with him and leave me behind? Go away, where I can't find you?

Make her run around the palace looking for him and not being able to find him. Because he isn’t there.

Daddy! Daddy... I had a dream! A really bad dream! I was looking all over the palace, and I couldn't find you anywhere! You weren't there!

And the worst part is that it would make her assume the worst: that he left her behind just for a weird red dickhead.

Why?

Because Stolas's relationship with Blitzø has caused a rift between the prince and his daughter.

Because he, unfortunately, has never told her what kind of mother Stella is, or what she has done to him. She is left to believe everything was okay until that imp came around, seduced her father, ruined her family, and wrecked her home.

Because Stolas grew distant and forgot about the important stellar event he promised to show her. Was he wrong for it? Of course not! Stella made everything to throw him off the rails completely that morning. But Octavia still has the right to be upset.

Not to mention that she’s nowhere to be found since that night in Los Angeles… Why isn’t she around? Is she resentful toward him? Is she being kept from him? Or is he keeping her at arm's length because of the assassination attempt and his deteriorating state of mind? What happened?

I can already see how Stella and Andrealphus could use all of it against Stolas, grooming Octavia and simmering her in hatred for him. Bluntly lying about true reasons Stolas fled.

Stolas kept silent about the abuse he survived, hoping to protect Octavia and let her live a perfect childhood. But instead, she won’t have a single soul to support her, since Stolas will be chased off and hated. By her. Surrounded by vultures who now prey on her, who have couped her father and forced him to break the solemn, earnest promise he made to her.

What?... No! No, no, never! I'd never do that. Never...

How fucking tragic is that?

[hazbin-a-helluvamagines]

Can you do Octavia/Loona/Veroskia x male reader who is a living human that met the denizen of hell when both were small kids somehow and figured out a way to keep in touch with said friendship evolving into romance as the two got older? Thoughts on how others might react to learning of this?

"Childhood Friends" ; Loona, Octavia Ars Goetia, Verosika Mayday

You met through one of her old owners. And "owners" is the correct statement here, because Loona was nothing more than a pet to them.

Of course, they didn't introduce her like that. But since her previous owners were a pair of succubi, they were able to go to earth. They brought her on their honeymoon, where Loona was able to meet you. Her owners introduced themselves to your family as her mothers in the hopes of not drawing suspicion of abuse (because it's pretty frowned upon to treat your "child" like an animal, after all).

Loona was really aggressive and hostile at first, not allowing you to get close to her, touch her, or even look at her for too long. But you were little, and were easy to distract from her blatant rejection of your friendship.

She slowly began coming around more, though, over the week that her owners remained on their vacation. She started confiding in you. And since she was just a kid, she had no concept of keeping secrets. So she basically spilled her guts, about being a Hellhound from Hell, considered her "mothers'" pet, the fact that she never had a real family, and everything.

And when you hugged her, she was... heartbreakingly confused?

"S-S/O... What's this? This... thing you're doing."

After that, you lost contact. But she never forgot you. Her first friend.

A few years later, she was adopted by Blitzø, who loved her like a father rather than a pet. She was finally valued as a person, and not someone's possession.

But she had one request.

"There's this... human that I knew. He was my first friend. You can come or not, but I have to go see him. At least once."

And so she does. Loona comes to see you, using her adept sniffer to find you in the madness that is Earth. She of course takes on her human disguise for the first time since her previous owners, and she was amazed you even recognized her.

"Loona?! Is that you? What... What are you doing here?"

"Long story short, a lot has happened and sorry I didn't visit sooner. I'll explain everything, I promise. God, S/O, I missed you so fucking much."

And so she did. She explained everything that happened, and later on, she introduced you to Blitzø. It was odd, she introduced you as though you were her boyfriend...

Blitzø could see the feelings brewing in Loona, but you seemed like a stand-up guy and you made and excellent first impression on him, so he didn't mind that much. Even though he was still a tad overprotective of her.

It didn't even take long for you to start dating. You saw her for Vortex, she... isn't the most subtle.

The only difference is she's more protective and aggressive over you. You're a human after all, you could get hurt!

She loves you so much, and she's so grateful that her boyfriend was her very first friend. :)

Same with Loona, you probably met Octavia during some kind of vacation that her family went on, where she was stuck on her father's side like glue.

She seemed really timid around you at first, this being her first experience in the human world and the first time she's stuck around humans who don't understand her.

But you were just so friendly, and so persistent. She couldn't resist getting close to you, and even looking up to you at some points.

And honestly? It was a welcome distraction from her parents when her mom clearly hated her dad. You wouldn't believe how beyond grateful both Stolas and Stella were for your involvement in Octavia's life to distract her.

And throughout the years, because of her parents' appreciation of you for distracting their daughter during their fights, they'd help her keep in contact with you.

You two essentially grow up together. Sleepovers, playdates, the works. And eventually, that turns into casual hangouts, discovering hobbies together, and eventually, even mutual crushing.

Now, obviously, she's an angsty emo teenager, and doesn't know how to sort out these feelings. So who does she go to? Honestly, probably the worst person for that: you.

"S/O? What does love feel like?"

Cue a very awkward explanation trying to explain to your crush what a crush feels like... thinking she's referring to another guy, no less! So the heartbreak was also present.

Fortunately for you, it was very momentary and fleeting.

"I see... And what if I had... a crush... on you?"

"Via? Are you saying what I think you're saying?"

She's as shy as they come, and very nervously nods, fearing the harsh rejection and the end of your friendship that seemed inevitable. She couldn't have been more shocked than when you said those words she wanted to hear...

"I feel the same, Via."

"Really? Then... would you... maybe... want to... try going steady?"

You snorted out a little laugh, tilting your head.

"'Going steady'? What are you, ninety?"

Of course, you were only teasing, and she momentarily pouted at you before you finally gave in, taking both of her hands in yours.

"I'd love to go out with you. Just convince your mom not to kill me when she finds out you're dating me."

She let out a hoot-like laugh and nodded.

"I promise I will."

You were her absolute everything, and she was so happy she finally got to be with you. :)

Okay, so headcanon that Verosika's childhood wasn't the nicest. Not necessarily awful, but she never really felt wanted by anyone.

That all changed when she met you, though! As little three-year-olds, and her parents living on earth for a few months out of the year, she became immediately attached to you, clinging to your affection like she thought it'd leave if she ever let go of you.

She's clingy to a fault, always wanting to hug you and hold your hand and play those "physical" games (tag, leap frog, etc.). Sometimes, though, she'd sucker you into playing dolls with her. But hey, at least she (usually) let you be Ken. And have a personality.

"Hey! S/O! Let's play! I wanna be Nicky, but you can be Ken! :D"

She was so adorable and sweet, how could you possibly resist?

She maintained close contact with you, and her parents really didn't mind that she sometimes went off on her own to spend time with you.

You were there when her career began taking off and when she began getting famous, even to the extent of tabloids discussing rumors that you were an item. You weren't, though, although you started crushing on her near the beginning of her idol career.

So the tabloids made you uncomfortable in a... strange way. You didn't want her knowing how much you loved her, especially considering she was already with some imp guy...

...and then he broke her heart.

You consoled her, held her, reminded her how perfect and amazing she was, and how she didn't need someone who never saw her value the way it should be.

In this moment, she realized how amazing you were to her. You were always there when she needed you, you were never mocking or cruel with her, you never made her feel unwelcome or unloved... You were an amazing guy.

But you didn't think of it the same way. You didn't want to confess under the precipice of her possibly thinking you were glad to see her get her heart broken just so you could virtue signal about how much you loved her.

It wasn't instant, but that night, she began to develop her own feelings for you.

A few months later, she was head over heels, the same way you were. She was mean and catty with a lot of people, but oh, not with you. She adored you.

You'd already be close with her posse, but they set you two up, convincing Verosika to tell you the way she feels.

"Heya. So, like... I kind of like you, and all, but if you don't feel the same, totally fine. I don't mind."

A lot more chill when she isn't actively plotting against someone, actually. And of course, you accepted her confession that you thought would never happen.

And so, in the end, the tabloids were proven right... eventually. :)

Until then... she's content to keep your relationship a secret for now. ;)

[narcissisticmf]

persistence | bellamy blake x gn!reader

description: training with bellamy.

trigger warnings: some seductive behavior, gun usage, fluff, etc. read at your own risk.

word count: <1k

Holding the shot gun close against your right shoulder, you aimed it towards the wooden target outside. You'd been the only one training that afternoon, everyone else was at lunch. You closed your left eye and tried your best to hit the center of the target. You pulled the trigger and missed it, the bullet drove through the wood several inches away from the center.

You released a grunt and tossed the gun against the grass and dirt, frustratedly. You kicked a rock that was by your feet as you clenched your jaw. Placing your hands against your hips, you stood still for a moment, staring at the target for a while; as if it would give you the answer as to how to shoot the center of it.

"It's really not that complicated," Bellamy's voice was heard from behind you.

You parted your lips and released a soft breath, uninterested in his instruction. "I almost had it," You avoided eye contact and reached down to lift up the shot gun, holding it tightly against your shoulder again.

Bellamy stood behind you, crossing his arms over his chest as he watched you for a moment. His eyes squinted subtly due to the brightness of the sun.

You pulled the trigger and missed by a hair again. You sighed, quietly.

"Hold it up again," Bellamy instructed, walking towards you.

"I don't need your help," You replied, looking back to him.

"Just hold it," He said, not phased by your attitude. You looked ahead at the target and held up the gun again. Bellamy's hands slowly moved around to your arms to fix their position. You could feel his breath fanning against your neck. The closeness caused a lump to develop in your throat, unable to speak.

"Yeah.." Bellamy cleared his throat and stepped back, awkwardly. "Like that," He nodded.

You felt your grip against the gun loosen from the sweat that produced in the palms of your hands. Swallowing thickly, you pulled yourself back into focus and closed your left eye again. Bellamy stood at your side and watched as you pulled the trigger.

The bullet swiftly moved through the red painted dot against the wood carved into a circle. You smiled widely as you stared at the hole in the middle of the target.

"I did it!" You laughed, almost baffled that you were capable of doing it. You turned to see Bellamy and he was smiling at you. That was something he didn't always do often, but when he did it was beautiful.

"I told you it wasn't that complicated," He smiled. "It's all in how you hold it."

"Thanks, Bellamy," You grinned.

He simply nodded with a smile to his lips.

.

a/n: hi, darlings!! so i just started watching the 100 and it's honestly so good! i hope that i captured bellamy's character well here and if i didn't, i'm sorry 😭 i'm still learning his character! love you guys mwah! — angelina

[strawberryforks]

whatever the hell we want // bellamy blake x reader

summary: reader didn’t care much for living, the eldest blake sibling made it worthwhile, even enjoyable

warnings: angst, suicidal thoughts/ideation, swearing

word count: 1908

a/n: this one is a bit heavy. i was having a bad day so i will apologize for turning the cutesy “how did bellamy and reader meet” request into this emotional abomination (sorry)

you probably should have been excited to be on the ground. it was that or being floated–tossed into a lock sealed door, trapped, and taunted with the faces of whatever loved ones chose to say goodbye (you didn’t have to worry about that, the only family you had, you met in lock up–your bio dad, marcus kane, was awful and on days that ended in ‘y’, you opted to pretend he didn’t exist) before another door would open and you’d be sucked out into space. the little oxygen in your lungs would tear them apart. what had sustained you for so long would then be your downfall. what you needed to breath would kill you.

you’d be so hot, so hot as your blood boiled and so hot as you died, staring out at the stars you loved so much. you were nineteen, the oldest prisoner to be alive and on the arc, but even kane’s powers had their limits. in three days you would be floated. three days until that would be your fate and still.

still.

when you woke up on that dropship you were pissed. it was the first thing you were mad about.

with a forever fuck-it attitude, you unbuckled your seat. floating around with a few others you ignored your best friend when she told you “sit back down, dumbass!” you cracked a grin and then the lights flickered.

while entering the new atmosphere something went wrong—something malfunctioned. maybe the shutes didn’t deploy or maybe you were just lucky but when the screaming started, you didn’t hear it for more than a few seconds because you were flung into one of the metal walls, just above the seats, and your vision spotted before going disappearing completely. sounds dulled, everything dulled. you were probably dying, you smiled because of that

when you landed, you woke up. that was the second thing you were mad about.

you were suspended in the air in some kind of fabric. It wasn’t uncomfortable or anything, not until you attempted to stretch your stiff limbs and found the material twisting. it spat you out on the ground and you made a noise. it bubbled from the back of your throat, expressing your obvious upset, you lifted your hand to touch your cheekbone–it was throbbing and you had the vague memory of your face slamming into the dropship wall. at fucking nineteen, you weren’t supposed to have to deal with any of this. you should’ve been floated a long damn time ago, would’ve like to have been too. you were the oldest prisoner on the ark, only alive because of who your daddy was. the daughter of marcus kane (you hate him as much as the next person) you’d been spared. he tended to get what he wanted.

where you lie, a boy does across from you on another makeshift bed. you lean over him, study him. He has some features you recognize. freckles and long eyelashes. you’re peering over him, observing, when those eyelashes lift and he’s blinking up at you. you scoot backwards not wanting to bang heads (yours was quite tender).

the hand that you have been absentmindedly feeling around your face with, came away with no blood coating, “i’m ocatavia’s brother, bellamy.” bellamy blake, okay. you’d heard of him and despite never meeting him before, the stories octavia had told you, mostly about how he protected her and made life under the floor less horrendous, you decided he was safe.

you glance at him, not all that hesitant. your best friend was a force and if she left you alone, in here, with him, he was trustworthy. your lips are pressed into a tight line. you don’t need to introduce yourself, he already knows. of course he does. you assure yourself he knows because you’re his little sister’s best friend and not because you’re kane’s daughter, the one who killed a man and got away scot free. you had a damn good reason but the ark’s justice system was lacking.

you tell yourself he isn’t judging you, he doesn’t look like he is, but you know you deserve to be judged so it’s a losing battle.

you glance down at your wrist and see it’s bare. the band that transmits your vitals to the ark is missing, and when you look at his wrist, you realise he isn’t wearing one either. “lost in the rough landing?” you ask, with a lilt to your voice.

his shoulders shake as he laughs a little. “something like that.”

you sit back up and climb back into your hammock. this time your hands are both out beside you to stabilise yourself. it’s quiet for a moment, the tent dark enough you know it’s night time. “why’d you take it?” you asked, unable to stop your curiosity.

“the ark hasn’t done anything for us. they sent us down here to die, because we’re expendable. in their eyes we’re just repaying them.”

oh. so your dad probably thinks you’re dead right now. that doesn’t unsettle you as much as it would the average person–actually you don’t mind it at all. let him learn what it means to fail, to lose, in some permanent way. let him face the brunt of the consequences his actions wrought for once. maybe this sentence would be the one to ruin him.

you stare at the pitch of the tent. are we on earth right now? is it safe? did the others survive? what happens now? your mind is flooded with questions.

“you think loudly.” bellamy informs.

“i’ve been out for awhile, huh?” in response, he nodded. “is it okay? is everyone okay?”

“they are. you almost weren’t though. that stunt you pulled? it was a whole different level of dumb.”

it’s peaceful until sunrise when the screaming starts. Guttural moans and groans echo from within the camp. “That’s jasper,” bellamy supplies while you’re rubbing your head, all but pleading with the ache to subside.

then octavia’s bursting through the tent flaps, “i knew i heard voices!” she pulls you outside with her and just… woah. everything is brighter. unlike the monotones on the ark there’s all kinds of colours. blue sky, green tress. they’re so green and so many different shades. light, dark, sage, evergreen. you’ve never seen anything so beautiful, other than your stars. you miss them, and looking up at the sky you can’t see them only clouds–white floating cotton that moves with the wind. you’re on earth and you don’t know if you belong here but in all fairness you didn’t belong on that spaceship either. the only place you thought might be a good fit for you was now miles upon miles away. a good thing, if you asked octavia.

the “whatever the hell we want” movement was one you supported quickly and joined even quicker. bellamy and his buddies at its forefront you figured, why not. you liked to fight, so thats what you did. you threw punches and received them and slaps to the face. It satiated you need to self destruct and would until bellamy or octavia intervened. you didn’t quite care for danger and took as many guard and patrol shifts as you could. you liked carrying a weapon, liked exploring, and hated being cooped up and confined.

you were walking away from the wall, alone this time, with no particular destination in mind. sometimes you brought octavia with you but she was busy talking and flirting (not in that particular order) her brother never liked when she joined in on your adventures so it was probably better that she wasn’t with you.

“not dragging my sister along with you this time?” a familiar voice chided. bellamy blake. speak of the devil and he shall appear.

you shrug your shoulders and continue walking. “not this time, no.”

“hey! come back. where the hell do you think you’re going.”

“i haven’t decided yet. maybe the river. maybe the caves. maybe, it’s none of your business,” you respond dryly, still walking ahead. his hand clamps down on your arm and he stops you from moving further, “what, bellamy? what?” his eyes, alight with fire, something you’ve seen in your best friend once or twice, full of curiosity, and understanding, meet your own. he gazes into your dead ones, takes a look at your blank expression and bends down. a hand grips the backs of your thighs and then he’s picking you up. you’re slung over his shoulder like you weigh nothing and had you not been so emotionally empty you would've been incredibly impressed. “what the hell bellamy? what are you doing?”

“whatever the hell i want, though, that? it doesn’t apply to you anymore, not when you don’t know what you want,”

“i do,” you argue.

“not when what you want isn’t anything good.” he fires back.

and that’s how you met bellamy blake. at first you hated him, hated how he drug you along wherever he went–patrol was nice but he would insist on bringing you everywhere, even on the most pointless errands. to do the most boring things. he made you drag logs to help reinforce the wall and sometimes he didn’t even help. prison warden or friend, who fucking knew?

but bellamy kept you busy. kept you distracted from the brewing storm in your head.

you got used to him. bellamy blake became your new normal and even made you smile a few times, usually when firelight was reflecting off of both of your cheeks as you roasted your dinner. the first time, you sat on a log beside him, your supper sitting inside of the flames, blackening. he went to grab the stick from you–probably guessing you were attempting to light yourself on fire, or that you’d begun to dissociate. you snatch the stick back. “it’s burning,” he warns, voice having a sharp edge.

“sorry if i would rather taste charcoal than two headed, six tailed, mutated squirrel.”

that night he held you. you let him.

close to his chest and away from any and all danger, you slept soundly and dreamlessly for the first time in years. the sleep–it helped with your mood, too.

bellamy held you again. he always liked to hold you—to have a hand in yours or resting on your shoulder. this time, the touch wasn’t comforting, to assure himself that you were real and not going anywhere. this time that physical touch was the only reason you weren’t going anywhere. his grip was tighter, thank god.

the grounders were coming an the only way to stop them or at least to slow them down was to blow up the bridge. you needed to place the bomb but everyone was terrified to let you go, bellamy especially. you did what you had to, sneaking away and setting it. you were scared–you didn’t know when it happened, when you started wanting to live, but it was a soul-deep change that you knew had something to do with the blake siblings. specifically bellamy, who’s companionship you hadn’t wanted but needed more than anything.

you placed the bomb on the bridge and detonated it, running as fast as you could as the moss covered stone crumbled behind you. the structural integrity was giving away and you were so close tot he edge but… you started to fall. you closed your eyes, pressed them shut as tightly as you could and then that hand was there.

bellamy’s. closed around your wrist and holding on for all he was worth. your heart beat so hard in your chest you had to look down to make sure you hadn’t been speared by a grounder, and that it wasn’t leaking out.

you loved him and you were so thankful he never listened to you. when you said you didn’t need him, when earlier, you shouted at him and told him not to follow you–it was a weak distraction but now, he pulled you back onto solid ground and wrapped you in his arms and you had no regrets. none at all. well… you had one, but it was easily rectified.

it was a struggle, pushing him away at the shoulders, holding him at arms length and seeing the worry on his face all over again. it was a struggle but when you stopped regretting things and dove back in, moulding your lips together in a passionate kiss, everything was better. bell’s hand palmed your cheek and pulled you impossibly closer as yours moved through his hair.

[mint-flavoredd]

Helluva Boss + SPY x family crossover inspired by Laviko_weid drawing on Twitter!!!!

I have so much fun thinking of the character dynamics and the fun added bonus of all of them being from Hell. (This is a world where there is a problem of hellspawn migrating to Earth, and the government is working with Hell to purge their world of secret Hellborn residents)

Stolas

Stolas ran away from the throne and his arranged marriage WITH his grimoire when he was 23, fleeing to the human world to start over. (Meaning Stolas is much more accustomed to ‘real life’ than canon Stolas. Still love them both tho)

Due to not using a crystal and instead uses sheer magical will that Stolas stays in human form, he finds it difficult to keep his eyes constantly changed, so opts to just keep his eyes closed. This doesn’t limit him at all, and he can see perfectly fine with them shut. However, if feeling intense feelings, especially if sudden, he forgets or just doesn’t care to keep them shut.

Stolas became an assassin at age 25, finding an odd sense of belonging to the profession. A control he never felt in his previous life. But as the years passed, Stolas became increasingly worried about being found out by the government. Most likely he wouldn’t be executed, but at this point, he has grown fond of his life on Earth and is making no plans on returning to his loveless marriage or royal duties back in Hell.

Blitzø

During the Circus fire, the fire had spread to nearby trees and buildings, including a building that was owned by a dangerous gang in the area, the fire killing a solid number of important gang members. For years they had hunted Blitzø, and while trying to escape them one day, Blitzø landed himself inside of a jail cell, meeting Moxxie in the process. After breaking out, they both decided it would just be safer to leave Hell all together.

Blitzø steals Veroskia’s (how to spell??) crystal and gives it to Moxxie then proceeds to steal himself one by sleeping with a succubus. They flee to earth. Blitzø is 22 at this point.

He found himself hating that hellspawn are hunted on earth (the whole point of going to earth was to be able to live without that fear of being prey) he attempted to become an assassin, however, Moxxie went into spy work and was easily persuaded since he thought it was the next best thing because you got to dress up AND you got to shoot people.

(Blitzø is a great spy because he is unpredictable and spontaneous- definitely a different kind of spy compared to Twilight.)

(Millie is human in this AU, Millie is that one coworker, Camilla, Moxxie is Frankie. These two are married, don’t question it)

Octavia

Octavia’s egg hatched a week after Stolas had left. (Stella had kept the egg a secret from Stolas, wanting to not constantly be pestered by the owl demon)

Stella was set to be wed to another Goetia, and she didn’t want to bring the owlet from her first marriage that failed spectacularly over to her second one. She wasn’t close enough to the newly hatched bird to be bothered. But It couldn’t get out that a Goetia had been given up to the streets of hell, and Stella didn’t want this girl to be unfairly exploited or raised improperly for being a Goetia, especially when she looked so much like her father already. Stella manually transformed Octavia into her human disguise and handed her off to a succubus who she had paid handsomely and instructed her to be handed off to a family who could take care of her. Unfortunately, Octavia had been handed off to demon obsessed lunatics.

At the age of 4, they had Octavia read a spell that they had no idea what it did. She had the magical ability to cast it, but she had the reading ability of a four year old and she was attempting to read a language she had been taught second hand by people who had taught themselves how to read it. It didn’t go great, she passed out in the process, however, when she awoke, she was granted the gift of telepathy.

Stolas and Octavia are both unaware that she is his actual blood related daughter, but it’s constantly mentioned by other characters that they look much more related than Blitzø and Octavia do. But it’s late to change the story now!

When the show starts, Stolas is 28, Blitzø is 25, and Octavia is 5

Also also Loona is Bond, the future seeing dog.

[t0rturedangel]

Could you do a Octavia (Helluva Boss) x Bird! Reader? Maybe like them on a date?

〈  𝟎𝟎𝟎.. DATE NIGHT WITH OCTAVIA

ㅤㅤ➯ㅤOCVTAVIA X GN! READER 〈  𝟎𝟎𝟏..ㅤSYNOPSISㅤ·⠀·⠀·ㅤyou and your lovely girlfriend, Octavia, have your first date!

ㅤㅤㅤWARNINGS, apart from being short, none!

〈  𝟎𝟎𝟐..ㅤ✉ ; I haven't done a helluva boss answer yet! so there is the first ever one!

﹒〣ㅤUnless I'm wrong, OCTAVIA probably has never had a relationship prior to yours so dates would be simple. Nothing too extravigant or fancy- something which she would probably love, after all she's been showered with the most expensive things all of her life- she IS a goetia afterall, so the change would be welcomed.

﹒〣ㅤYou'd have to come up with date ideas- since OCTAVIA doesn't havemany ideas except for 'we should watch human fireworks' which was a nice idea, until you two realized that humans only do that on certain days and or celebrations so the idea was scrapped.

﹒〣ㅤInstead, you opted for a simple- classic, movie night date! You had spent a good few hours preparing everything, the pillows and blankets, a sofa, teddies (just in case)- and despite OCTAVIA'S laughs at the need for them, she ended up cuddling one during one of the movies- and LOADS of snacks, which were all gone by the second movie.

ㅤㅤㅤㅤ" Come on via! " you smiled, covering your girlfriend's eyes while carefully leading her to the mount of pillows and blankets " Only a few steps more! " " You said that 50 steps ago..." "YOU'VE BEEN COUNTING THEM?! " " Yeah, well- I have to do something while I can't see " " okay okay-" you quickly uncovered OCTAVIA'S eyes to reveal the surprise you withheld from her the entier day, smiling widely as you watched her eyes widen with interest and slight shock. " Wha.. [name] whats this? " "Our first date!" You chirped- feeling a sense of glee at the thought of having an entire night with your girlfirned, " First date? " "Come on Via, we need to start our date!" You quickly held onto her hand and lead her to the sofa- sitting her down before plopping next to her, both of you sharing a similar feeling of fondness " Okay! so- i have everything preped! Snacks, movies, teddies-" "- Teddies? isn't that a bit childish" she mused, staring at you in a teasing confusion, making you gawk at her expression "EXCUSE YOU babe, but teddies are deffinately NOT childish!" crossing your arms, you turned from OCTAVIA "and here I was going to give you a custom teddy of me!" you huffed, ignoring how you felt OCTAVIA's feather's perk up "a teddy of you?" "Yeah!"

OCTAVIA was quick to apologies to you and the teddies after calling them childish- finding the teddy of you adorable. After the whole situation with the stuffed toys, both of your attentions were drawn to the (rather concerningly large) collection of movies you had found. After both agreeing on a movie order, the two of you got comfortable in each other's arms- begining to watch whatever you chose. By the end of the night, STOLAS had walked into his living room to find the two of you holding one another- snoring loudly but seeming to be comfortable and at ease with where you were- a moment he captured with a picture before he quickly left, not wantig to bother the two of you.

Ⓒ𝐓𝟎𝐑𝐓𝐔𝕽Σ𝐃𝐀𝐍𝐆𝐄𝕷

[stories-and-chaos]

Tarnished: You Will Be Okay

[Helluva Boss AU where Blitzø’s childhood theft from Stolas’ palace is discovered and major consequences ensue for everyone involved.]

[Word Count: 1284]

—————

“Mummy! DADDY!” Octavia’s piercing cries echoed through the palace. Stolas woke groggily at the sound. Although he and Stella no longer shared rooms, much less a bed, they each had a receiver for Via’s room monitor. The demon prince smacked a panel on the device to talk through his wife’s end. “Stella, Via’s calling for us,” he mumbled in a sleepy voice.

A few seconds later, Stella’s voice responded in an annoyed tone. “You get up.” Stella rarely disturbed her rest for their daughter. She reasoned that both she and Stolas had been taken care of by nannies and other servants growing up, so it would be fine for Octavia.

Stolas disagreed: he wanted a daughter, not just an heir. He wanted his child to have a relationship with him, unlike the dismissive hostility he had with Paimon. So he heaved himself to his feet and wrapped a robe around himself for a bit of modesty.

Via called out again, distress coloring her cries. “Mummy! Daddy! Blitzø!” As it turned out, Blitzø had been quicker on the uptake. While Stolas had talked to Stella, the imp had hopped out of his master’s bed to check on Via. Stolas realized Blitzø was missing and already on top of things with a wry smile.

Blitzø, wearing a horse print robe, gently knocked on Octavia’s door as he swung it open. “Via? Puffball? What’s wrong kiddo?” The little nestling pulled back the blanket she was hiding under. Her deep pink eyes were wide open and filled with tears. Jeez Floof, you gave her some good genes. Even crying the kid looked adorable. Blitzø held his arms open for the girl.

She rushed over to him crying the whole way. “Uncle Blitzø!” she sobbed as she launched herself into his arms. Oh fuck, better not let the bitch hear Via say that. He and Stolas would never hear the end of it if Stella heard the girl refer to an imp as family.

But comforting the little owlette was more important. Blitzø lifted her up, settling the girl’s weight on a hip. “Hey, hey, what turned you into a waterfall?”

Via sniffled. “I had a dream! A really bad dream!” Blitzø patted her back gently.

��Nightmare huh? ‘Sokay, you can tell me about it. Let it out kiddo.”

Between hiccuping sobs, Via managed to get out the words. “I was looking all over the palace! I…I couldn’t find Daddy anywhere! You tried to help me Uncle Blitzø, but…but he wasn’t there!”

Blitzø wrapped her in a hug, making soothing sounds as he walked over to the bed. “It’s okay Puffball, I gotcha, you’re okay.” He plopped onto the bed and let her bury her face into his robe. “Your dad’s not far. He’ll always be there for you and I will too.” He rocked her gently to calm her down. Her crying eased and they heard a knock at the door.

Stolas had knocked so he wouldn’t spook them. Sometimes being so quiet was a disadvantage. “See? I told you he’s not far.” Stolas joined them, gently stroking Via’s head and back as he sat down.

“Blitzø’s right my owlette. What’s troubling you?” He yawned hugely. Via clambered into his lap. “Daddy! I had a nightmare you were gone!” She sniffled and rubbed her eyes. “I was so scared!”

“Oh my dear Via. When you’re scared and don’t know where I am, you must remember…” he used a bit of magick to summon his grimoire to him. “No matter what happens to me, I will never be far away…from my special little starfire.”

Blitzø took a few steps back as the grimoire opened. Stolas gestured and a portal opened above the Goetia’s heads. “It always seems more quiet in the dark,” the owl sang softly as his daughter looked up to the stars through the portal. “It always seems so stark, how silence grows under the moon.” A touch of magick had them floating through to a distant world. Blitzø could faintly hear Stolas’ voice but couldn’t make out the words.

Still, he stayed in the room. He never passed up a chance to hear Stolas sing. Even singing a lullaby, he could send shivers down a listener’s spine. The sounds of breaking rocks mingled with the song in the purple light pouring through the portal. Stolas’ voice grew stronger as they returned.

“And when Creation goes to die, you can find me in the sky, upon the last day.” His voice swelled, but the nestling in his arms didn’t stir. She looked contentedly asleep as he placed her back onto her mattress. Blitzø tucked a star patterned blanket around her and the two men backed out of the room.

“And you will be okay.” The lullaby trailed off as the prince quietly closed Via’s door. Stolas held a talon to his beak and they made their way back to his chambers. “Thank you for your help Blitzø.”

The imp shrugged. “Of course. Figured the feather duster wasn’t getting up anyway. Puffball was pretty scared about you being gone though, even had me helping in the nightmare. Wonder where she got that from.” Back in Stolas’ bed, they talked as the owl wrapped himself around Blitzø again.

Stolas sleepily pulled the imp closer. “Mmm, not sure. Could be prophetic? Or just a phase? Hard to tell..” His words turned into snores as he fell back asleep. If Stolas didn’t know, there was no point in Blitzø trying to figure it out alone in the middle of the night. He cuddled into Stolas’ chest feathers and slowed his breathing to get back to sleep.

The next morning, while Stolas prepared breakfast, Octavia padded into the kitchen. The little girl was yawning and had one hand wrapped in her starry blanket. “Hi Daddy, hi Uncle Blitzø,” she said in a sleepy voice.

“Good morning my owlette,” Stolas said in a chipper tone. “How are you feeling today?”

Via climbing onto the bench and cuddled up to Blitzø’s side. “Kinda sleepy. I didn’t like that dream.”

The imp wrapped his arm around her. “Nightmare’s aren’t fun, but it’s over now. Real quick Puffball.” She blinked up at him. “You can’t call me ‘uncle’ sweetie.”

“But why not? I love you Uncle Blitzø.” Her innocent confusion felt like a stab to his heart.

“I love you too Via. But your mum doesn’t like me. And she’ll be super mad if I’m ’Uncle Blitzø,’” he explained gently. It wasn’t her fault that her mother was such a stuck up bitch.

Via pouted. “You’re more fun than Mummy though.” Blitzø couldn’t help the gleeful smile on his face. Take that you dusty whore! If only Stella could hear that, Blitzø would probably explode from joy.

To top it off, Stolas slid plates of cinnamon rolls in front of them. “How about we come up with a nickname instead? That way we can call Blitzø something that is affectionate without angering your mother.”

Octavia, her beak covered in icing, asked, “What does affec-ton-eight mean?”

“Loving, fondness, caring. How we all feel about you, little starfire.” Stolas gave her the definition while wiping off her face with a smile.

Via giggled and immediately got more icing and crumbs on her face with another bite. “Can I call you Blitzy? Like ‘daddy’ or ‘mummy.’”

The imp ruffled her hair feathers. “Blitzy sounds great.” He gestured with a fork laden with cinnamon roll and icing. “You can call me Blitzy too, Floof. Stella can’t really get mad at Via if you’re both calling me that.”

Stolas chomped onto the fork Blitzø was waving around. He took the bite for himself with a teasing smile. “Whatever you say, Blitzy.”

—————

A/N: Sorry for the delay, I’ve been distracted by replaying Hades after the Hades 2 technical test. Also the trailer for Helluva Boss’s season 2 second half has given me feelings.

Tip me through Ko-Fi!

[coleramse]

i will meet you on another planet if the plans change

be on your own way, daughter.

[n3felibata]

Don't know how many times I have to repeat this, but once again reminding people that Stolas did NOT enjoy the sitcom 😭 He liked Blitz's joke, but that doesn't equate to enjoying the ENTIRE show. He was annoyed by it and wanted to get it over with ("Now hurry up and wow them so we can get back to finding Via!")

As evidenced by his facial expressions

[vviolets444rroses]

REQUESTS?

hi my loves😽,

if you happened to make a request within the time that i was gone, i will TRY to fulfill every one. however, some requests are of things i might've forgotten about (LOL). like a book or movie, yeah? please be patient. i'll be drafting posts before i post them when my summer break starts.

currently interested in writing about...

🗡️; deadly class... YES TO- marcus lopez, saya kuroki, maria salazar, etc! NO TO- chico salazar, viktor, etc...

🪄; harry potter... YES TO- most characters from each house (especially the slytherin boys!) NO TO- toxicity, ab*se, discrimination, & TBD...

⛓️; the 100... YES TO- bellamy blake, octavia blake, clarke griffin, etc! NO TO- TBD...

🕸️; marvel cinematic universe... YES TO- peter parker, tony stark, wanda maximoff, yelena belova, etc! NO TO- TBD...

🌊; outer banks... YES TO- jj maybank, kiara carrera, john b routledge, rafe cameron, sarah cameron, pope heyward, etc! NO TO- toxicity, ab*se, & TBD...

some interest in writing about;

julie and the phantoms, scream, cobra kai, the karate kid, the outsiders, books, etc... 💓

i really do hope i get requests about any of these topics because i would love to write more... i will always try to put the correct warnings before my writings, but most of my posts (if not all) will be SFW. for the most part, i do write in lowercase on purpose. the "NO TOs" are just things that i would hope not to get requested. like those type of plots, y'know? like i said, there will always be warnings if there are sensitive topics. some of the tags on this post are things that i will not personally post about... like if you seen a smut hashtag on here- i do not post smut here. mainly on wattpad.

BUT PLEASE DO SEND ME REQUESTS! I DO HAVE A FEW POSTS UP THAT MIGHT PEAK ANY OF YOUR GUYS' INTEREST.

love yours,

aiya🎧💝😸 (vviolets444rroses)

[domitiaa]

Do not let Octavia suffer for my sins.