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kimberly-spirits13 · 5 years ago

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For Wandering Dreamers (Pt. 2)

Synopsis: After hearing your parents argue about something for what feels like the zillionth time that night, you escape to your books and comics for some escaping of reality. Just as the argument ends with slamming doors, a note and locket landed on your bed. Inscribed on the note was a promise of new adventures and a better life awaiting you.

Notes: Y/F/D= Your Favorite Drink Y/N= Your Name Y/N/N= Your Nickname Y/F/P= Your Favorite Playlist

Warnings: None

Word Count: 1979

You woke up to the sound of someone trying to wake you up and small beams of golden sunlight peaking in through the curtains of your bedroom.

“Y/N, it’s time to get up.” You rolled over and rubbed your eyes to see Damian stepping back. His emerald green eyes sparkled in the light and you smirked some siting up and taking your hair out of the two braids that it was in, revealing wavy hair

“What time is it?” You mumbled yawning.

“it’s 9:15 in the morning. Alfred has breakfast prepared downstairs.” He informed you as you rolled out of bed fixing your shirt.

“Thank you. I’ll be downstairs shortly.” You said, “Wait, where is the kitchen?”

“So, you can make your way to the Batcave and the Fortress of Solitude but not the kitchen?” He chuckled, “You surprise me more and more every minute.”

“Well, I have seen blue prints on Google of the house but it was how someone imagined it so I cannot guarantee that that is actually how to get downstairs.” “And also, you will find that I am in fact very impressive in multiple ways.” You smiled getting out one of the outfits that you packed.

Running into the bathroom as Damian waited outside on the bed for you, you changed into your favorite colored thinner hoodie, denim jacket, dark grey ripped jeans, black and white Adidas, and you put your hair up. After that you brushed your teeth and then headed out to go downstairs with Damian.

“Try and take the lead.” He challenged, “Just see if you can make it to the kitchen.”

“Fine.” You replied walking down the hallway, eventually to a set of stairs.

“Oh, what floor are we on Damian?” You asked.

“Just the second.” He answered.

“Cool.” You walked down the flight of stairs which seemed never ending and then to a double staircase that led to the massive living room and to the side, the kitchen.

“It wasn’t that hard.” Damian remarked behind you.

“Mhmm.” You rolled your eyes getting a small laugh from Jason who was leaning on the counter.

“So, you must be Y/N?” Jay asked.

“Yep.” You answered, “Oh Jason, just for your information, all of Tumblr wants you to know that you’re awesome.” “It’s a social media platform where I’m from.” You explained, “I don’t know if you guys have it.”

“Finally, some recognition around here.” He threw his hands up in exasperation, “And what does Tumblr say about the rest of the crew?”

“It’s pretty unsurprising really.” You answered, “Dick is the mother hen, you’re the awesome one that everyone loves, Tim is the sleep deprived little bean,” you laughed some and continued pulling up a link on your phone, “According to this, Damian is a small deadly cupcake, Cass is an amazing and beautiful person who everyone would seriously die for, Steph is a waffle queen, Babs is just a queen... no a goddess, Bruce is the mom jeans dad, and Alfred is superior to all. Oh, and Kate is a badass, Duke is the sane one, and seriously at the end of this it says that the writer would die for every one of you guys.” “So yeah, you guys are pretty popular.”

Jason was wheezing laughing at Tim and Damian’s description and Dick was slightly offended before be introduced himself. You guys talked a lot much to what seemed to be the to the jealously of Damian for some reason. You wouldn’t admit it but Damian was your favorite Robin. You had had a crush on him but you know, that didn’t need to come to light.

You sat down at the table and was talking to Damian again who was seated next to you as everyone sat down. They were asking questions and introducing themselves little by little. It was just as you had imagined it on the nights that you dreamed of leaving home or scrolling through some sort of fan fic. The breakfast was amazing and was enough to make you remember that you actually had a life outside of this. Plus, would Bruce pay for education? You weren’t really expecting that but it was the summer time so you assumed that there was no need to worry about that yet.

A few weeks later...

You were walking around Gotham with Damian the day after the third gala that you had attended. It wasn’t hard to become fast friends with Cass, Babs, and Steph seeing as how they were literal queens of the entire Batfam and the rest of the family welcomed you with open arms, but recently you and Damian haven’t been spending as much time as the two of you would like to. It was something that he had “voiced” after kind of ignoring you for a few days which led to some interrogation on your end, plus some slight teasing.

Finally, you guys were doing something that didn’t involve six other people, even if those *other people* were very much welcomed. The two of you walked down a sidewalk into a coffee shop where you proceeded to grab a table for the two of you and Damian got the drinks. He came back and smiled some, sitting down and passing you Y/F/D.

“Thank you.” You said taking a sip from the drink.

“Anytime.” He answered before the look of an idea graced his face, “There’s a book store not too far from here that you’d probably like.”

“Is it a Barnes and Noble or just corner/ local shop?” You inquired.

“It’s a corner shop just down the street. Trust me, it’s better than any Barnes and Noble you’ve ever seen.” He answered.

“Wanna bet on it Dames?” You chuckled some.

“Only if you’re prepared to lose Y/N/N.” Damian challenged, “If this is the most impressive book store you’ve ever walked into, I get to take you out on a date Friday night.”

“Well, then, I might purposely lose, Wayne.” You smiled at him some, the look of brilliant trouble glazing over your eyes, “And if I win, you can take me out and kiss me after the store.”

“I might do both regardless.”

You raised a brow, “Well then, what are we waiting for? Let’s go see this awe -inspiring book store.”

You guys walked down the street, swarmed by the media and paparazzi as they were getting pictures of Gotham’s newest unconfirmed couple. The two of you stopped in front of a store that read, “Corner- Shop Books.”

“Straight to the point I see.” You said sarcastically as you guys walked inside.

“Mhmm.” Damian looked to see your reaction which was almost immediate.

The shop was bigger than you expected. There were shelves everywhere and a small sitting area near the middle of the store. In the back, there were stairs that lead to another floor of books and the seemingly infinite sea of literature drew in anyone that gazed into its glass doors. You were still for a second, admiring the large room and then walking around some, leaving Damian behind for a few seconds.

To Damian, watching you was like watching a kid in a candy shop. You gently ran your fingers over some of the intricate spines of the books, making your way to the classical literature, and then myths, history, and up the staircase to where the fiction and fantasy was.

He smiled as you looked so at peace in the world. It was the first time that he had really seen you this comfortable aside from some of the moments where you two were alone in the library reading or out in the gardens having conversations on whatever subject or topic you were interested in discussing. The thought that you guys might be here for hours crossed his mind, but was quickly brushed away once he saw the excited look on your face as you found something that was interesting enough to grab hold of your ever -wandering attention.

“What is this one about?” He asked referring to the hard -back book with a beautiful pale pink and gold cover, and what looked to be part of a castle on the spine.

You were reading the synopsis of the book before answering him, “It’s a book about a princess that comes from a lineage where the first of the family was a “god killer” of sorts. He defeated the goddess of death when she decided to take over the land and now the goddess, 300 years later, is back to reclaim her throne.” You stopped for a second, “It’s also got a male character who acts as an assassin for the king and may or may not be the romantic interest of the trilogy.”

“The boxed set is right there if you’d like it.” He picked it up and handed it to you.

“I’d like to not spend a ton of money on books until I find a job or something.” You said putting the book down.

“I’ll get it for you. Just get what you’d like, the bookshelves in your bedroom are looking empty as of late except for the few you managed to bring. I can see how you stare at it sometimes with the look of dissatisfaction during some of our conversations.” Damian offered, joking some at the last part.

“Dames, it’s okay I-“ He cut you off.

“I insist Y/N.” He said handing you the box of books.

You gratefully smiled at him and offered a thank you before continuing along in the store to hunt for more books. It was maybe three hours before you guys left. You had a few bags of books and thanked Damian profusely. He insisted that it was totally fine and you kind of stopped once you reminded yourself that he was, in fact, the son of a billionaire.

Once back in the manor, you had run upstairs to start organizing your shelf, you know, as any book worm might. It wasn’t long before you got a knock at the door and you were pretty sure you knew exactly who it was.

“Come in.” You turned off Y/F/P and waited for the person to come in.

Damian walked into your room and shut the door, “So, about the bet.” He asked, “Was it the most impressive book store you’ve ever seen?”

You thought for a moment, “Well I mean, the one in New York was really cool that one time, oh there was that one from Jersey...” You looked up and smiled, “Just kidding. And yes, it was by far, the best bookstore I’ve ever seen.”

He smiled and walked to you, putting his hands on your waist, “Then I hope that you will keep your end of the bargain and accompany me to dinner Friday night?”

“I will.” You replied, your breath hitching some at how close you two were, “I am slightly disappointed that you didn’t lose though.”

“And why is that Y/N?” He asked.

“Because now, you don’t have to kiss me.” You smirked some as he stared you intensely.

“But that doesn’t mean I don’t want to.” With that, he pulled you into a long kiss, you ran your fingers through his hair at one point, and he pulled you dangerously close to his chest.

Once you broke apart he spoke up, “Y/N, would you be my girlfriend?”

“That’s an offer I cannot pass up.” You answered, “100%.”

“Well then beloved...” You smiled at the name remembering it from the fan fics, “I hope you have something to wear for our date.”

“I’ll find something.” You looked at your stack of books debating whether or not to start shelving them.

Your thoughts came to a stop when you heard that dinner was ready, you would just do it while Damian was on patrol. You were a night owl anyways, so it wouldn’t matter.

Ya’ll I’m dying I haven’t had literally any sleep but here we are lol. I hope that you guys had a great Easter and are doing well. If you have any requests, please send them in. I hope that you guys are staying safe and are well have a good day and keep sane! 😊

#damian wayne x reader #Damian Wayne #Damian Wayne x y/n #damian wayne imagine #robin x reader #robin x y/n #batfam x reader #batboys x reader #batfam #dc comics #dc x reader #fan fic stuff #fan fic #for wandering dreamers series

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gooddadstan · 5 years ago

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Fuzzy Walls and Tired Eyes chapter 3

At some point in time, Tim finds himself standing in a graveyard. Staring at the headstone in front of him, he recognizes it as the one with the bodies of Janet and Jack Drake, not from the unreadable words on the grave, or the scenery around him, but from the voice in the back of his mind that tells him it is, and he accepts it. All of his training along with every cynical bone in his body is saying he shouldn’t, that he should analyze and confirm the reality of the situation, but he doesn’t remember how he came to stand here anyway and every single point is telling him it’s a dream, so he’s just going to go along with it and see how it ends up. Nothing better than standing in front of your parent’s grave, right? Besides, he already tried waking himself up and it didn’t work, so he’s stuck here.

In front of the grave, his senses are accosted by the smell of wet grass and the feeling of humidity in the air, stuffy in the dressy suit he’d most certainly not been wearing seconds ago. The shadows are longer than he’d remembered, unwavering and intimidating in a way they hadn’t been in a long while. An all too familiar sense of failure and shame swells up in his chest, as off to the side a scene plays out of him standing over his father’s body, unable to do anything but stare at the corpse. He’d never really mourned the loss of his father, in the end, not other than what little he needed to do publicly. He’d only mourned the loss of the relationship they’d started to form. God, what kind of son is he? The hot, empty tears that sent rage to his core swelled in his eyes, and then he’s being lifted up with a batarang to his throat.

The fabric of the Robin uniform’s cape tangles between his feet as he struggles for a second before forcing himself into stillness, hands clutched around the arm holding him up. The arm of his brother. Not that this was his brother, but the likeness was enough to send shivers down his spine. Though the real version did attack him all the same, later on in their lives, this one was not him, and thus cannot be associated with the real being. Of course not. Then why do the memories flood over each other, fear undue for actions not Jason’s but Clayface’s. Why does he still have to fight down defensive movement when the Red Hood approaches him on patrol, in the way that he doesn’t have to do with any other Bat. It doesn’t matter, he tells himself, it’s not happening anyway. With his newfound awareness of the situation and its faults, he could feel the ever so faint motion of clay as his captor pulled him close, shifting and yelling as the same as he had years ago. So as Batman formed in front of him, in that same stance with a vague panic hidden behind the cowl, he didn’t bother with the pleasantries of flailing around and trying to break free of the grip on his body. The words being spoken were inconsequential, and he only needed to wait it all out.

His stillness is interrupted by falling towards the grass in a practiced dodge, Batman sending a kick above his head. His uniform, Red Robin now, showed the diagnostics of Bruce’s disappearance even as Dick traded blows with him. The words spoken, full of venom, weren’t coming from him, instead floating into the air from nothing without changing the flow of the scene. To be called an equal then kicked aside and belittled, no trust in his words and pity in his eyes as he throws another punch. The sting of it hurt far more than the physical pain of his body. Unimportant, focus on the issue at hand, every nerve in him screeched, but his mind wandered elsewhere. And as his surroundings shift uneasily, from the red and white of a hightop as screams rang from ahead, to the empty halls of Drake manor sitting clean and proper under his small footsteps sounding rhythmically as he meanders, to the cold but home-like metals of Titans Tower with the sounds of laughter and chattering in distant rooms. He stands there a moment before sinking into his regular spot on the couch, warm and home in a way it hadn’t been since Bruce disappeared.

It only took a second after he’d let himself relish the calm for him to be punched to the ground. A fleeting glimpse of red, yellow, and green, conflicting with his own in the whirlwind his eyes are providing him. He huffs a sigh, falling back into the motions as he rises and gets hit again and again by the man he calls his brother. Jason, the real him now, angry and looming in an outfit meant to bring comfort and reassurance. Shouting about replacements, and asking questions the same voice from the graveyard answers as well as it can. A punch flies into his face before he can block it, and immediately he’s staring into the dark ceilings of the cave as he falls from the stuffed Tyrannosaurus. Damian’s smug expression stands unwavering above, watching as the green of his uniform and the dinosaur grows farther from Tim’s grasp.

Before he could hit the ground again, he found himself standing in a warehouse.

It wasn’t a particularly familiar warehouse, but it sparked enough recognition in his mind to not set off a panic. He doesn’t think he’d ever really been standing in this warehouse. Almost as if to adjust for that, his body snapped into pain, his Red Robin uniform scratched and battered like how he’d expect from coming out of an encounter with one of the A-list rogues, not a routine drug bust. But while he was about 90% certain he’d broken at least an arm before he was in this warehouse, there’s no marks on his skin, the new holes in his suit leading way to the normal pale skin contrary to the sting of pain in his limbs.

The floor sits as a dull metal, flecks of red across it from a few too many work accidents before the site was shut down. Normal. The walls, however, look like they’re made out of shag carpeting, appearing soft and inviting in a way that the walls of a warehouse really shouldn’t be. But no alarms go off in his mind, and he has to guess that this was commandeered by some weird villains in the past. Maybe they were dealt with on one of the gala nights he always hated attending. Would’ve thought he’d have come across it on his cataloguing of the Gotham villains, though. Reaching out to touch the carpeting, the softness of it goes through his gloves to his fingertips, and doesn’t fall away when he yanks at it. Instead, it draws him in with snaking tendrils of shag that envelops him easily.

What Tim saw next was best described as a Wonderland-esque clusterfuck.

People bustled around, occasionally popping from one part of the room to another and repeating tasks they’d already completed, talking and smiling and shifting their outfits and faces to be one person then another. They’d get into conversations with other versions of one person, cracking jokes about how ‘well one of us needs to change’ and then shifting simultaneously to a different person. The background kept changing, from warehouses to the Batcave to a bowling alley Tim had only been in once to do some undercover work. There were flowers sprouting in thin air, and writhing forms of matter twisting to try and be a solid object only to melt into an ocean of nonsense once more.

The rapid changing and confusion let growing around him, becoming louder and more crowded as glimpses of memories showed between people, right and wrong and both at the same time. It was starting to give him a headache. He could operate crowds, usually, his mother wouldn’t tolerate it if he couldn’t hold his own at a gala, but this was beyond any of the parties he’d been to. Too much chaos, too much indiscriminate noise, too much pushing and prodding and swirling existence. None of the rhythm he’d grown accustomed to with large groups of people. He wanted out, the pain in his body mixing with the pain in his mind until he woke up with a gasp.

Immediately, he recognized that he was in the cave. The dark ceilings high above his head were unmistakable. Irritation bit at his face and limbs, dull stings pulsing with his heartbeat. His left arm is immobile, along with his right leg, and he can feel the bandages tight where they’re adhered. He moves his unbound arm to his face, ignoring the objections of the IV sending some sort of fluid into his system, hand slapping directly onto an oxygen mask that shifts uncomfortably on his skin. Shifting his head first to the left, he sees the other beds in the medbay, empty and eternally prepped for quick transfer of patients. The medical cabinets sit off to the other side, lining the wall as orderly as ever. Turning his head to the right, where the chairs are when they haven’t been scattered from the movement of the assorted Bats, he sees four chairs, all empty.

He shouldn’t have been expecting someone to be there when he woke up. The Joker had been loose and the Bats needed to be prioritizing that. But it still stung, more than he’d ever care to admit, that nobody was even in the cave when he woke up. The increased beeps of the heart rate monitor was more than enough to act as an indicator for anyone outside the medbay, and the sounds of him hitting the oxygen mask and moving his head would do the trick even if a fluctuating heartbeat had been normal for his unconsciousness. It was normal for Bruce to sit and wait after patrol, or Dick to hover and mother-hen, or Alfred to sit with a cup of tea during what break time he gets. Now there was… nothing. It hurt, somehow, knowing that they wouldn’t deviate from their patrols to be there. It hurt more than any of the physical injuries he had. That was probably the worst thing, that for all the pain his body was in, he let some stupid guilt hurt him more. It was unprofessional.

Tim stayed awake for somewhere between a minute and a half hour, his mind too tired to keep count and no clock in sight. When he finally heard some shuffling out in the cave, his heart leaped at the thought of someone finally being there, and the damned machine betrayed him by saying it. Almost immediately, Alfred was in the medbay, and the guarded fearful expression melted into a kind half-smile covering a grimace. He felt guilty.

“Master Timothy, I’m terribly sorry I was not here when you regained consciousness.” Despite his mouth still open and taking in a breath to continue, Tim only raised a hand and waved it away. It’s not like it was Alfred’s fault, after all, he had a lot of responsibilities around the house. No use in making him feel bad for things he couldn’t change.

With a small pained expression, Alfred walks over and begins adjusting the IV stand just out of Tim’s sight. He could turn his head and look if he wanted to, but he was just so tired, and exhaustion was setting into his bones more every second. Maybe he should just… go back to sleep.

As his eyes droop downwards, more sluggish than normal, Alfred could only hope that this sleep would be a painless one. Tears never did make good background noise, in the end.

#batfam #tim drake #batman #fwtr #i've been messing the acronym up this whole time haven't I

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nonodino · 6 years ago

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TWC: Detective Personality + Quirks and Interests + Dectective’s History and Relationships

!!( I went sooooo overboard )!!

Basics:

Name: Caroline Urizar

Age: 24

Height: 5′5

Ethnicity: Mexican American or Chicana

Personality:

♥ Tries her hardest to make the best out of every situation. (Keyword:Tries)

♥ On rare occasions,she gets super frustrated and overwhelmed (Because she bottles everything up) that she lashes out, even though she immediately regrets it.

♥ ^ Apologizes ASAP after she sorts her thoughts out, ususally out of an immense sense of guilt and wants to be held accountable for what she does.

♥ A mother hen to her friends and mother. She wants the best for them.

♥ She’s pretty loyal to people she’s close too. Even more so if they have the same morals as her.

♥ Besides the occasional lashing out part, she’s kind of got a dog like personality. (Faithful, Selfless, family oriented, and protective).

♥ Crybaby™ Her first response in hard situations is to cry. Also cries at the silliest of things out of joy or just because something is just so adorable. An example of this, is that she once cried at a ladybug falling off of a leaf onto the sidewalk and helped it back up. Tina probably laughed.

♥ Try hard optimist, but sometimes reality slaps her in the face. She usually responds by isolating herself for a bit and cries it out. Then comes back with renewed hope. (It’s a pretty weird cycle)

♥ Since she’s seen as the ‘mom friend’, she doesn’t like to bother others with her problems. She prefers to work them out herself, if she can’t, she’ll pretend that she’s stronger than she is and continues forward. Ususally trying to bury it deep in her mind. Not very healthy, but that’s her.

♥ Most of her issues are with her own image. The biggest being her self esteem. She’s pretty self destructive, but if it comes to someone else, she’ll put all her effort into reassuring them and helping them however she can.

♥ She’s not the brightest. She tries really hard to be her best self, but dear god sometimes she’s really dense. Border line slow. But she eventually catches on! (I’m sure some of the department questions how she was made detective and it came as a surprise to her too).

♥ She blows her own mind which is a hoot to watch. She was amazed at the thought of how your heart has to beat constantly to run blood through your veins. It might be really stupid to others, but from this she comes to appriciate things more.

♥ Compassionate. Often makes the mistake of trusting or believing the wrong people.

♥ She’s worked very hard on refining her People skills (a trait inherited from her mother) and tends to be very talkative.

♥ She tends to be cautious as a detective. (Double checking areas, facts, or work. Preparing for the worst while hoping for the best when in delicate/dangerous situations.) But, let’s her guard down a bit in her personal time.

♥ Likes to avoid confrontation and would much rather find a middle ground. Which often let’s others walk all over her until she eventually has no choice but to speak up for herself.

♥ Patient to an extent. The extent varies with different types/ages people.

♥ A hopeless romantic, but scared of picking the wrong guy. She’s also scared that she’ll put too much pressure on him by her ideals of love and run them off. She’s sort of clingy and would feel awful if her partner felt suffocated.

So basically, she’s trying her best!

Some Quirks + Facts:

☀️ Twirls her hair around her finger without knowing it at times

☀️ Can’t go to sleep if she thinks her feet are dirty and washes them if she feels they are. Don’t ask.

☀️ Daydreams about cute relationship scenarios often. She also thinks of them to help her fall asleep

☀️ Has a bad habit of biting her nails

☀️ Plays late 80′s and 90′s pop aloud in her office on Pandora if she’s doing paperwork

☀️ Doodles all over sticky notes and has a stack of them on her desk near her monitor. She does this whenever she catches herself almost drawing on her paperwork.

☀️ Chews Trident gum a lot and keeps a few packs of them in her desk. Her favorite flavors are Tropical Twist, Watermelon Twist, and Trident Layers Strawberry + Citrus

☀️ Also keeps a Burt’s Bees lip balm on her at all times in the tint Rose

☀️ Replys to Tina’s messages with reaction pictures 60% of the time

☀️ Her photo gallery is mostly screenshots of outfits, memes, and things she wants to draw later

☀️ Spends a little too much time on Instagram at home

☀️ Talks to herself (sometimes even argues with herself)

☀️ Even though she’s half Mexican, she doesn’t know the language that well due to Rebecca’s and her father’s absence

☀️ Loses small pieces of jewelry all the time

☀️ Refuses to leave the house without concealer, mascara, and her eyebrows done

☀️ Straightens her hair almost everyday and when she doesn’t it’s in a side bun. (She has wavy hair)

☀️ Loves the winter and likes partly cloudy days the most

☀️ Uses the word ‘like’ a little too much to express herself + lots of hand gestures

☀️ Still has her childhood stuffed animals on her bed and can’t sleep without her suffed dolphin named Alfred Willy

☀️ She likes to wear a simple necklace everyday and her trademark piece of jewelry would have to be hoop earrings (Sliver or gold)

☀️ Doesn’t like to binge watch TV shows or movies unless they really catch her attention. Otherwise she only watches one or two episodes at a time.

☀️ There’s a chance she has some of her K-pop posters in a shoe box under her bed and most definitely has some albums on her bookshelf

☀️ Actually did very well in school and graduated from high school with a 4.2 GPA

☀️ Runs her fingers through her hair a lot, mostly when she’s got a strawberry face from receiving compliments or when someone flirts with her

Interests:

🌸 Likes to draw, though she doesn’t get to do it as much as she’d like to

🌸 Her music taste is mostly 2010-2014 or 80′s and 90′s American pop, K-Pop, and some dashes of older Reggaeton or alternative songs.

🌸 She likes to travel and watches blogs of people who go to countries she’d like to go one day

🌸 She makes doilies (usually when she watches TV) and gifts them to her friends and her mom

🌸 She likes to plant and has a window box garden outside her windows in her living room

🌸 Recycles and attends events to pick up litter and help sort out recyclables

🌸 Collects shells, sand dollars, and rocks that look pretty

🌸 ^ Crystals as well

🌸 Dances around her apartment often, like hairbrush microphone dancing. Far from professional.

🌸 Shopping and trying on outfits is one of her favorite things to do. She prefers simple outfits and owns a variety of coats and jewelry.

🌸 Does calligraphy and takes classes for it online

🌸 ^ She’d like to try pottery one day

🌸 Her favorite food joint is McDonalds

🌸 ^ Chinese food is at the top of her favorites too

🌸 Whenever Rebecca was around, she’d cook meals for her. She’s been trying to recreate them since those times, but something always tastes off.

🌸 She loves cats, but doesn’t have the time to take care of one

Personal/Detective’s History + Motives:

🌟 She joined the force in hopes of following in her father’s footsteps and to help protect the people of WayHaven

🌟 She loves Rebecca with all her heart and cherishes the time she spends with her

🌟 ^ Looks up to Rebecca and has always seen her as a role model. She wants to make her proud

🌟 She has a scar on her right knuckle from where she was washing dishes and accidentally broke a cup upon hearing that Rebecca wouldn’t make it to one of her birthdays.

🌟 Accepted Unit Bravo and the supernatural pretty quickly, although the thought still blows her mind

🌟 Wants to protect humans and supernatural from danger

🌟 She misses her father and often tries to recover whatever memories she can of him

🌟 As she was growing up, her bestfriend was a female grey and white cat named Michi. She died when Caroline was 19. She kept her collar and stored it away in a special place. (A wooden chest full of heartfelt memories, old sketchbooks, photo albums, and other trinkets). This loss triggered memories from her father’s funeral.

🌟 Unit Bravo might have an easier time identifying her due to an innocent heart murmur she was diagnosed with when she was 17

🌟 Has terrible seasonal allergies

🌟 Bobby was her second boyfriend and her most serious relationship. Which ended messily due to his lack of interest in their bond.

🌟 Tina is her best friend. She’d wouldn’t know what to do without her.

🌟 She quickly became friends with Verda when he first arrived and shares a close companionship with him as well.

🌟 Maintains a polite and respectful relationship with the Police Captian Sung

🌟 Tries to avoid Mayor Friedman at all costs. But when she can’t, she’s very polite. Avoids him due to the fact that he’s got an odd interest in her mother which makes her uncomfortable and a bit awkward.

🌟 Douglas has an odd crush on her from the night she saved him outside the bar. She’s flattered, but it makes her uncomfortable as well. At least it gets him motivated for work.

Unit Bravo Romantic Relationships:

When pursuing Adam:

💖 Totally doesn’t think he looks like a 90′s Vanilla Ice

💖 Shy and discreet flirtation (almost like she’s scared of rejection or how he’ll react)

💖 Highly respects him as a team mate

💖 Attracted to his independance and authority

💖 Feels most safe around him

💖 Flushes involuntarily when he’s around

💖 Keeps the conversation friendly and light

💖 Tries to see his side of the argument when they disagree (which isn’t so often surprisingly)

💖 She’s very worried she’ll say something stupid around him and have to deal with the embarrassment

💖 Sweaty palms

💖 Sometimes she’ll catch herself daydreaming about him and she’ll shake her head and furiously resume work before anyone notices the blush forming.

💖 Calm and sweet on the outside but a nervous wreck on the inside

💖 She still recalls the scent and warmth of his coat and lowkey wishes she could wear it all the time

💖 Soft thoughts 24/7 (Hugging, kissing, holding his big hand, etc.) Even her thoughts make her want to hide her face.

💖 Sometimes doubts his interest in her because of their different personalities

When pursuing Nate:

💕 Loves his honesty and kindness

💕 Appreciates that he’s open about his interest in her and smiles at the ground often when talking to him.

💕 Still shy and stutters a lot when she flirts

💕 Nate has a big, sweet presence that she wants to wrap herself in. He probably gives the best hugs.

💕 He’s like a Disney prince and she can’t help but imagine him as one. + 1000 other soft thoughts too

💕 He’s a welcomed change from Bobby, who didn’t give her the attention she wanted. So she’s beyond excited that he’s into her.

💕 Her hearts beating a mile a minute

💕 Relates to him due to their common traits

💕 She secretly likes having to look up at him

💕 She hopes he can teach her more Spanish

💕 Attracted to his intelligence and strong morals

💕 Could talk to him for hours

💕 She feels that she could learn a lot from him

💕 She gets giddy from remembering all the sweet things he’s said to her

💕 But, she feels like someone as amazing as him shouldn’t be with someone so dense and silly

#character profile #thewayhavenchronicles detective this is super long I'm sorry I got excited

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phantomghost · 2 years ago

Note

*kracks knuckles*

not to be extra but I basically live on ao3 so let me go through my gigantic pile of bookmarks to find some good fics. and i saw that an anon already told you about the filter system. hooray! ao3 really is a great site for its amazing filter system.

I mean, just look at this. You can include and exclude multiple tags and fandoms for crossovers or if you want to avoid certain crossovers!

I mean, god, you can even put in specific word counts and word count ranges, if the fic is complete or not, and the window of time of the last time the fic was updated and exclude all crossovers at once! I am not kidding when I say I am in love with this filter system. In fact, I want to marry it.

Anyhow, without further ado, here are some of my recs!

(all of these are amazing dad bruce btw)

Superb Series

Settle Our Bones, a series wherein Jason doesn't die in Ethiopia but Tim joins the Batfamily early because of (unplanned) sleepovers and unfortunate events (including a blizzard, multiple trips to the Er and below average Drake parents). it is centered around Alfred, Bruce, Dick, Jason and Tim. i love how domestic it is. Jason is a hilarious mother hen in this one and it has a top tier dad Bruce. it might be one of the best dad Bruce written. the series is overall rated Teen, fucking funny, fluffy and hurt/comfort. the fics in the series are not too long, with the fic in the series with the highest chapter count having 6 chapters.

His Kids, His Life, one of my favourite ones holy shit do I love this one. Read it read it at least check it out please. Set in the Justice League Unlimited cartoon series universe (you don't need to know much about the series to read this). The Justice League doesn't know Batman's real identity and all think he's a grouch, while in reality he is just a tired single dad of 6 (RIP). His oldest is Dick (thirteen years old) and his youngest is Damian (two years old). Other than them, you got Jason, Cass (both are ten), Steph (seven) and Tim (six). What I love most about this one is how with other Batfam fics, you got Bruce parenting teenage vigilantes. Here, you get to see how Bruce would do as a dad to a bunch of mostly normal young children. It is amazing. He calls them honeypuppies. Jason calls him dad. Tim calls him daddy. It is Pure Domestic Fluff. The series is centered around the main fic (All I Have) and one side story (Sometimes, Fate Deserves Fracturing). The writer is so so so talented and I love how they write the interactions between this unconventional batfamily.

Outstanding One-Shots

The Cape Void, this one has the whole gang! From Alfred, Bruce, Dick, Jason, Cass to Steph, Tim, Duke and Damian. Batman's cape is a void, that's why all the batkids can all fit in at once. Crack taken seriously, fluff fluff fluff, they confuse the rest of the caped community and rated Teen <3.

in doctor's office lighting (i didn't tell you i was scared), a fic where Tim gets meningitis after a hairline fracture and because he has no spleen. I just.... how do i explain this fic. it made me feel so many emotions? it is centered around Alfred, Dick, Bruce, Tim, Jason and Damian. We have angst, humour, hurt/comfort, great batfam interactions, and just so. many. emotions. I am pretty sure I actually laughed out loud and cried at this. I am not ashamed. it is just that good. rated Teen. I don't know what else to say. read it.

you're done with all the talk talk talk, a Cass centered one-shot about her love for dancing and her family. I was getting tired of typing this all up but I just cannot for the life of me make a batfam fic rec list without putting in this fic. the writing is of the stuff of gods. it is just so good i even made a web weave inspired by this fic (here, unashamed plugging lmao). the fic also includes the Rows (Harper & Cullen). there is just so much love stored in this fic. rated Gen. if i could only recommend one batfam fic, it would be this one. just.... please, give it a go, check it out, give it some love <3.

Any good batfamily fics? I've been scrounging around Ao3 (admittedly not that long, I'm at rehearsal) but can't seem to find one without ships between Robins (idk if those are generally accepted or problematic???) or a miraculous crossover??? Maybe I'm searching under the wrong tags?? help

Oh babes I wish I could help but I'm not on ao3 that much jghgg however @brucietales has amazing batfam dynamics in their fics!!

#dc #dc comics #fanfic rec #batfam #batfamily #lemme know if you want more #im not kidding when i say that i practically live in ao3 #cas shut up

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ellawritesficssometimes · 7 years ago

Text

Ouija Board Mishaps (Day 6 Week of Hetalia, One-shot

A/N: I wrote this when I was sick and took too much NyQuil xD

Stay tuned for tomorrow. I’ll have a more romantic fic planned.

@weekofhetalia

Arthur’s POV:

It was a late Friday night, and against my will, my friends had invited themselves over, as per usual. Correction, I invited my younger neighbors Matthew and Alfred over, otherwise known as the twins, while the frog (Francis) came on his own free will, but certainly not mine. Francis was a senior in high school like myself, whereas the twins were both juniors.

Since October was the peak of anything paranormal, I decided to put an end to the mystery surrounding the hauntings occurring in my home. My family has a history of having the Sight, which means we’re able to communicate with spirits. However, the spirit haunting my family refused to show itself, – or should I say herself? – so we were forced to put up with its shenanigans. I grew up with these hauntings, whether it being misplaced socks, random knocks on the walls, or footsteps in rooms where no one alive was in.

But not anymore. I wouldn’t put up with it for any longer.

Impulsive, young, and stubborn as I’ve always been, I bought a Ouija board from Toys’ R US the other day, thinking I would finally be able to make contact with this spirit and get rid of it. Alistair, my older brother and guardian, was gone for the weekend, so this would have been the perfect opportunity for me to prove my worth as a spiritual communicator.

My god, words cannot explain how badly I fucked up.

Regardless, I didn’t know that at the time. My pride often got in the way of me thinking rationally.

Anyway, the four of us were sitting in the basement’s lounge, decked in comfortable sweatshirts and sweatpants.

Even Francis was wearing a white hoodie that obnoxiously read “I love Paris” on the front of it. He was wearing silk pajama pants though, so I suppose his fashion sense still carried with him wherever he went. Unfortunately, fashion sense didn’t necessarily equate to class.

Francis, seemingly out of nowhere, had procured an entire bottle of wine, taking swigs of it as he draped his hairy arms over the loveseat like he owned it. Alfred and Matthew were sharing the two-person couch, each fiddling with a 3DS in their hands.

Meanwhile, I was sitting cross-legged on the ground, setting up the Ouija board and lighting several candles.

“You still plan to go through with this?” Francis asked me, slurring slightly.

I reached out to confiscate the bottle of wine from him. “All right, you’ve had enough of that,” I grunted, ignoring Francis’s protests. “It’s my house, you cold-blooded tart. I can’t have the cops coming over to arrest you.”

“Ah, oui,” Francis mumbled and then proceeded to lower his voice to snidely insult me in French.

I padded over to the mini-kitchen in my basement, placing the half-empty wine bottle in the fridge.

Alfred looked up from his 3DS, his face paling despite the determined expression he held. “M-man, I thought you were just kidding about using that thing!” he exclaimed.

“No, you ninny,” I rolled my eyes. “Have I ever joked about something like this? I’m tired of this spirit messing with me. It’s not exactly a friendly one either,” I trailed off ominously.

Matthew closed his 3DS, only to yelp when Alfred clutched his right arm for dear life. The latter had always been unreasonably terrified of the supernatural. “What do you mean by, ‘not friendly’”? he asked softly, violet eyes blinking not in fear but rather, curiosity.

I patted the ground, inviting my friends +1 to sit in a circle in front of the Ouija board resting on the carpet. I needed them close so that I could explain everything properly.

Once the lights were dimmed slightly and I had my mobile’s flash pressed under my chin, I began my performance. I spoke slowly, knowing that Alfred was slow to pick up on things, but also in the spookiest voice I could muster. Francis and Matthew were both unfazed, taking more amusement in how much Alfred was trembling.

I chuckled lowly, allowing a satisfied smirk to creep onto my face. “Rumour has it that 70 years ago, three siblings moved into this house after migrating here from Russia. There was a brother and two sisters. The youngest sister was mentally ill, but refused to get help. Her siblings agreed with this, probably because they knew she would be institutionalized for the rest of her life if she was turned in to the authorities. The mentally ill sibling’s name was Natalia. Weirdly enough, the records only show her name if you google the murders.”

“MURDERS?!” Alfred spluttered.

“Muahahaha! Yes, murders! Your ignorant two-celled brain heard me right!” I snickered. Perhaps I was getting a bit too immersed in the story. I had always been quite the shit-disturber.

“Natalia was obsessed with her older brother; you could even say it was a fixation. When she heard that her brother had found a spouse, she completely lost her marbles. Things took a turn for the worse when the brother admitted to Natalia that he was engaged, and that she wasn’t invited to the wedding…”

Matthew elbowed Francis. “This sounds like a soap opera you would watch,” he commented.

Francis absently nodded his head, waiting for me to continue with wide sapphire eyes.

Alfred was full-out whimpering at this point.

“Now, you see, for you guys to understand why things happened the way they did, you need to know that Natalia suffered from religious delusions. She saw her brother as some sort of God, an icon if you will. And for him to be marrying someone unworthy was utterly preposterous to her. Enraged, Natalia began to break things in a fit of uncontrollable anger – there’s a dent over there by that wall where she supposedly threw a knife!”

I paused, pointing towards the dent I had actually made myself when I was younger. I had thrown an overcooked scone at my brother’s head, angry at him for insulting my culinary skills – not that he was any better mind you.

“When her sister tried to stop her, Natalia stabbed her to death. Soon, Natalia had lost all sense of reality. Her brother couldn’t hold her back, as she didn’t realize what she was doing – she was just that furious. She ended up killing her brother too before slitting her own throat, horrified when she realized what she had done.

“And that my friends, is the haunting tale of Natalia A. To this day, she still resides in this house. If you listen closely at night, you can even hear the sounds of her scraping a knife against the walls, taunting those brave enough to confront her.”

“Really?” Matthew whispered to me.

“Of course not,” I mouthed back, smirking. I was enjoying Alfred’s reaction far too much to back out now.

Francis cooed at Alfred, rubbing circles into his back before looking up to glare at me. “Nice going, you imbecile. You scared le poor diabetic fils. If his blood pressure spikes, his death will be on your hands!”

“He’ll be fine,” I shrugged, indifferent.

Alfred had already cupped both hands over his ears. “Nope, nope to the infinity. I’m not doing this right now. I betcha anything it was Communism that killed them, stupid Ruskies. This is just a made-up folktale,” he rambled to himself.

“It’s real, Alfred,” I countered, reaching for my phone. “I’ll pull up the records if I have to.”

“Screw this, I’m hungry. Not today, Satan. Not today.” Shrugging off Francis, Alfred stood up and walked into the mini-kitchen. He began pawing his way through the freezer, pulling out leftover cheesecake.

The remaining three of us sighed, going back to the story.

“So…” Francis drawled, looking uneasy for once. “You want to make contact with this Natalia…why?”

“Yeah,” Matthew chimed in, which was unusual for him. He only spoke when it was absolutely necessary; often enough it was to stop us from doing something reckless and stupid. Wait…

“Are you sure this is a good idea? I mean, you said so yourself, she murdered people… her siblings no less…” Matthew mumbled.

“Relax,” I reassured them. “I’m a spiritual communicator. I’ve got complete control over this situation. All we’ll be doing is speaking to her. If things get weird, I can always just end the conversation.”

Francis and Matthew didn’t look very assured, but they didn’t offer any further protest either. They were more intrigued than anything else.

Before I could get to explaining the rules of the board, the microwave beeped.

“What the hell?!” I spluttered, turning. “Alfred, did you just microwave a cheesecake?”

“Y-yeah! It makes it soft! I’m nervous, okay? I need something in my stomach if we’re going through with this!”

“It’s cream cheese! It’s already soft, are you daft?! That’s it, I’m cutting you off from drinking any more Mountain Dew. That sugar is eroding at any remaining common sense you have!” I stormed into the kitchen.

Alfred wailed as I poured an entire two litres of Mountain Dew down the sink. It fizzled as I did so; what in the bloody hell did they put in these soft drinks? Poison? Carcinogens? Radioactive material?

“Angleterre, you have no right to criticize him on what food he eats,” Francis chided, unwelcomed to interrupt. “Just yesterday you made scones that were hard enough to be used as a murder weapon.”

“I still have those you know,” I huffed, dragging Alfred back into the lounge like a mother hen. The American sobbed, placing a lumpy spoonful of cheesecake into his mouth. “Don’t make me use them,” I warned.

Francis raised his hands in surrender, knowing full-well that my threat bore some reality to it.

“All right,” I sighed, grabbing a remote from a nearby coffee table. I dimmed the lights further so that the ring of candles around us were the only light sources in the room. “Let’s go over the instructions, shall we?”

Alfred grabbed the remote, flicking on the lights again. “Dude, no. First, I can’t see my cheesecake, and secondly, no again! You’re giving the ghost chick an advantage if we can’t see her sneak up on us.”

“Fine,” I sighed. I compromised by turning off half the lights. “Happy?”

“No, but this cheesecake is hella satisfying.”

“Can I have a bite?” Francis asked.

“Dude, no. Get your own.”

“HELLO! If you morons are done with your squabbling, I’d like to get on with this.”

Silence.

I cleared my throat. “All right, how this works is simple. We all place our fingers on the planchette and let the spirit guide our hands to spell out letters or to answer yes or no questions on the board. If any of you fools even dare to move your hands as a prank, so help me god. The most important rule to stand by is to NEVER take your hand off the planchette unless or until we break off communication. If you do that, you are susceptible to getting possessed. I’ll repeat myself again: keep your hand on the planchette at all times if you do decide to participate. Don’t ever pull away your hand unless communication is officially broken off with the spirit.”

Silence, again. For once, my friends weren’t arguing.

“If at any time things get unsafe, we must move the planchette to the end of the board where it spells out goodbye; that will break off communication and prevent us from being possessed if the spirit is malicious. Are we all clear?”

Everyone nodded their heads.

“Right, then let’s get started.”

“Wait,” Alfred reached out to pull down my hood. “Stop trying to look like a thug.”

“I’m not trying to look like a thug! I come from a line of druids, damn you! I’m just trying to honour my heritage!” I blurted out.

“You look like a pasty snowflake at best…”

“SCREW YOU AND YOUR HIGH CHOLESTEROL!”

Francis laughed, snapchatting this entire fiasco.

Alfred furrowed his brows. “What does that even mean?”

“GUYS! FOCUS!” Matthew raised his voice, a very odd occurrence. “Just apologize, and get over with it. If we’re going to be doing this, we need to be on each other’s side in the event that something goes wrong.”

Matthew was right.

Alfred sighed, speaking through puckered lips. “I’m sorry you’re so sensitive, Artie. It must be because I’m two inches taller than you and you’re trying to overcompensate for somethin’…”

“What kind of bloody apology is that?!”

WHACK!

Francis whacked the back of my head while Matthew whacked Alfred’s. I hadn’t even done anything wrong!

After ushering out real apologies, we all moved our hands onto the planchette. Unfortunately, my hand was stuck between the frog’s and Alfred’s.

Alfred grabbed my free hand with his. “No homo,” he muttered to me. “I just want to protect ya.”

Bullshit. The yank was scared.

“We’re both bi-sexual,” I hissed with a whisper. “And what did I say about using derogatory sayings like that!? Tsk, idiot.”

Cue another pointless argument.

Eventually, we all settled down and began with the ritual.

I instructed everyone to move the planchette in a few circles around the board before asking the first question.

“Is anyone there?” I inquired. “I assure you we mean no harm.”

The planchette began to move towards the top right of the board, where Yes was spelled out in bold black letters.

“I swear if one of you twats are faking this!” I growled in warning.

“Dude, I’m not doing anything!” Alfred panicked.

“Mon dieu, did it just get colder in here?”

Matthew’s shoulders slumped. “Well, it was a nice life while it lasted. A bit more boring than I would have liked it to be, but I can’t complain.”

The planchette stopped, hovering over the Yes section of the board.

I cleared my throat. “Hello, nice to meet you. Can you spell out your name?”

The planchette began to move.

I stopped the spirit right there. “Natalia, is this Natalia A.?”

The planchette moved to Yes again.

“Oh man! Oh man! Oh man!” Alfred rambled. “We’re all going to die! I’m never going to be able to lose my virginity! I’m going to die a loser, like, like Artie!”

“It’s still not too late,” Francis purred.

“SHUT UP!” I exploded. “Do not break the ritual.”

“Natalia, is it? Tell me. Why do you steal my socks… or trip people when they’re least expecting it? Is that fun for you?”

The planchette moved into the space between Yes and No. I took that as a maybe.

“Do you not like my family living here? Is that it?”

Yes.

“What do you want from us?”

The planchette began to spell out something.

“DUDE IT BETTER NOT BE SPELLING WHAT I THINK IT IS!”

Well fuck.

“Hey, chick-ghost-dudette?” Alfred piped in. “Putting aside you murdering us for a quick second, can you tell me what Artie hides under his bed? It’s really weird how embarrassed he gets when I poke around there.”

“It’s lying!” I cried out, blushing profusely.

I didn’t even bother to acknowledge Francis’s smug all-knowing expression.

“Do ya really want to murder us, though? Like, I get it. You’ve been dead for a while, probs haven’t seen any action,” Alfred continued.

“Are you insane?!” I snapped. “You’re only provoking it, don’t you realize-!”

BANG!

The ceiling above us thudded, prompting everyone to scream and jump a little.

Everyone but Alfred knew not to take their hands off the planchette.

I realized this when it was already too late. “Alfred, don’t!”

Alfred yelped, only to fall onto his back, twitching.

“What do we do?!” Francis screeched.

“Don’t let go, we still have to say goodbye!” I instructed.

Matthew grabbed the remote with his free hand, turning the lights back on. I really wish he hadn’t. Alfred was frothing at the mouth, a single tear of blood streaking down his right cheek as he continued to convulse uncontrollably.

“Big…brother…” Alfred gasped in a voice several higher octaves than his own.

“Where…are…youuuuuuuu…?”

How could things go this wrong, this fast?

“It was a pleasure, Natalia. But I really ought to let you go now,” I pressed, struggling along with Francis and Matthew to move the planchette towards the bottom of the board, where the word Goodbye was spelt out.

But, no matter how hard we tried, we couldn’t move the planchette. It was like something was pushing against us – much stronger in strength no less.

“It’s not working!” I screamed.

Francis and Matthew joined my screaming when the Ouija board was thrust into the air. We all let go, paralyzed in fear as we watched it slam into the wall opposite of us.

Matthew was the first to crouch by Alfred. “Alfred, Alfred! Wake up! Fight back, damn it!” he sobbed, slapping at Alfred’s cheeks.

“This is your fault!” Francis accused, jabbing an index finger at me. “You should have tutored him better in English. Maybe then he’d actually know how to follow instructions!”

“As if arguing is going to help with anything! Crap! I think I have a Bible upstairs! We’ll have to perform an exorcism!” I shouted.

Matthew leapt back when Alfred began to laugh hysterically, sitting up abruptly. A cryptic smirk was on his face as he licked his lips, tasting his own blood.

I reluctantly present to you, Natfred.

“A-Alfred,” I asked. “You in there, lad?”

“Alfred is gone,” Natfred laughed in a cold, feminine voice. The lights flickered.

“And soon you will all be too. I must find a suitable body for my brother. Then we can live happily ever after! But first, I’m going to need to spill a lot of blood. My, my, you’re all so young. It’ll make killing you a lot harder. Especially that one,” (she? He? It?) pointed to Francis. “I don’t usually like killing one of my own.”

“What do you mean by that?” Francis quivered as we all began to back away from Natfred, intending to run up the staircase at a moment’s opportunity.

“Are you not a woman?” Natfred asked.

“Oui, oui I am!” Francis pleaded. “Si vous plait, have mercy!”

“He’s lying,” Matthew and I both retorted.

“Some friends you are!”

“You had no problem throwing us under the bus!”

“What is this then, a gathering of homosexuals?” Natfred remarked. “It would make a lot of sense. This one– Natfred pointed at me - really likes shipping his fictional characters. It’s insufferable. For years, I’ve had to watch him lament about this ‘doctor’. And here I thought I was crazy.”

“DOCTOR WHO IS GREAT, YOU DEMONIC SHE-HEATHEN!” I raged.

“Arthur, not the best time,” Matthew snapped, being the closest one to the staircase.

Francis, however, gave us both a look, communicating the universal sign for ‘I’ll act as a distraction and then we run for our fucking lives’.

Matthew and I nodded our heads in assent.

“Tell me, ah, Natalia, who is it do you think is the gayest of us all?” Francis asked.

Natfred narrowed her eyes in suspicion. “Why do you ask?”

“Since you’ve passed, it’s been medically proven that gays are amongs the strongest of humans. You want a strong body for your brother, oui?” Francis lied through his teeth. I was beginning to question just how drunk he was. What was he on about now?

“Oh, how interesting. If that’s the case, it’s definitely him,” Natfred pointed at me, again.

“WHAT, WHY ME?” I whined.

Natfred glared, as if what she had just concluded was obvious. “I just do.”

“That’s not an answer!”

“Enough, this is such a bore,” Natfred drawled. “You’ll all be far more interesting once I hang the losing bodies as trophies. I’ve been wanting to re-decorate this place.”

Natfred then held out its (I decided on the pronoun, don’t get cheeky with me) right hand, snapping its fingers. A ghostly butcher knife, one that had seen better days and still had blood on it, popped into view.

“Who wants to die first?” Natfred waggled the butcher knife.

“RETREAT!” Francis bellowed, prompting all three of us to turn on our heels and run up the basement’s staircase – the literal devil was on our heels.

Natfred hissed, sprinting forward only to have the basement’s door slammed in its face. Francis and I held the door shut while Matthew grabbed several chairs for us to block the entrance with. Unfortunately, Natfred possessed Alfred’s near inhuman strength as well.

“Why run if you’re just going to die anyway? Face death like a man, you scoundrels!” It hissed, throwing an immense amount of weight against the other side of the door.

“NOW!” Matthew barked as Francis and I leapt out of the way and began piling chairs and tables against the basement door.

Not a second later, Natfred headbutted the door, splinters and dust flying everywhere as it poked its head into view. Its eyes were no longer cerulean under the spectacles it wore, but rather a strange gray-blue. We were losing Alfred more and more by the minute.

“Hide!” I shrieked.

“We can’t just leave him there!” Matthew begged. “How do we get this demon out of him? You said you have a Bible, where the heck is it?!”

“Can’t we just sacrifice Arthur? Let’s do a group vote, non?”

“Ugh! We don’t have time for this!”

I grabbed Matthew by the arm and began tugging him along with Francis towards our storage room. Meanwhile, Natfred was continuing to break through the door. We needed to find a good hiding spot where I could think and come up with a proper plan of attack.

“Over here!” I whispered, opening the door of the cupboard that lay underneath the staircase leading to the third floor. Yes, it was a real life Harry Potter room, moving on.

I closed the door and slid down on the floor. Matthew was the only one not out of breath to pull out his phone, illuminating the small space.

“Well, Monsieur spiritual communicator,” Francis spoke using air quotes, nervously pacing back and forth. His sanity was clearly not all there. “What now? How are we going to escape this alive after this massive fuck-up of yours? Mon dieu, never mind. I’ve already given up. Maybe if I surrender, she’ll let me drink some wine first.”

“NO!” Matthew and I cried out, grabbing both of Francis’s wrists before he could leave the room and give our location away.

“Get your priorities straight, will you?” I snapped. “And stop thinking so negatively. I’ll get us out of this.”

“How?!”

“I don’t know, just give me a minute to think!”

“We may not have a minute!” Matthew warned, wincing at the sound of a chair being thrown against a wall.

Natfred was free.

“Come out, come out, wherever you are,” Natfred taunted.

“Okay!!” I clasped my forehead with one hand. “I think I got it…”

I had to pause again as the sound of knives scraping against each other echoed across the house.

Natfred had found Alistair’s knife collection.

“I’ll be the one to distract Natalia this time. While I do that, Matthew, I need you grab the Ouija board and planchette. Francis, you grab the Bible on the table by the front door; if I somehow fail at distracting Natalia, it’s your job to make sure she doesn’t notice what Matthew’s doing.”

“What exactly am I doing?” Matthew asked, lips quivering.

“Move the planchette towards goodbye. You’ll be cutting off our communication with her,” I explained. “We’re still in session, and will be until that happens. Does everyone understand the plan?”

I received two “oui’s” in response.

“All right,” I straightened my posture. “Let’s save that moronic tosser. On my lead, 1…2…3… Go!”

I thrust open the cupboard’s door, sprinting ahead to give Francis and Matthew some space and time to sneak by while I acted as a distraction.

I found Natfred sharpening two knives in the kitchen. When it spotted me walking into view from the hallway, it grinned widely, murderous in its intent. It wasn’t the aloof, goofy grin I was used to seeing on Alfred – this image would likely haunt me for the rest of my life, which could very well only be the next ten minutes if my plan wasn’t successful.

“Succumbed to your fate, have you?” Natfred mused. “Although, I was kinda hoping for the other two. You might not be strong enough for my brother to possess.”

“Oh,” I quirked a brow, my strong tone contradicting how much my knees were trembling. “And what makes you think your brother would want to come back and live with you? You murdered him, remember?”

Natfred faltered. “I-It was an accident! He knows that! I’m sure he’ll forgive me! He always does!”

“Hmmm yeah, I don’t think so,” I responded, stepping to the side to block Natfred’s view of Matthew and Francis sneaking into the living room. “I think he’d be pretty pissed off. I mean, he had his whole life set right out for him. He was going to get married, and you just had to ruin that, didn’t you? Why? Because you were selfish. You wanted your brother for yourself, and when you couldn’t have him, you threw a tantrum like a rotten five-year-old child. If you really cared about your brother, you would let him rest in peace, wherever he ended up.”

I needed to make Natalia furious; to confuse her just as much.

Natfred’s eyes glowed. “You don’t know what you’re talking about!” it shrieked. “My brother deserved better than that… than that bitch! Now I have the chance to give him a better life. I’ll do anything to make that happen! He was a King! He deserved more!”

Natfred’s eyes briefly flickered to its original cerulean hue.

Behind me, Matthew stepped out of the basement, planchette and Ouija board in hand. He ducked, hiding from sight by using the living room couch to his advantage. Francis sat next to him, holding a Bible for likely the first time in his life as he prayed.

Both were successful in their part of the plan; it was time for me to follow through as well. It was my fault we had ended up in a situation like this. It was time to take some damn responsibility.

“You’re overcompensating,” I hummed without missing a beat. Alfred was still in there, I just knew it.

“No, you’re a brat. A petty brat who’s trying to rationalize the impossible. You’re a stone-cold murderer. You don’t deserve even the body you’re occupying now. You know why? Because Alfred is stronger than you’ll ever be. He knows what compassion is, what it is to truly love someone. But you’ll never feel that because you’re a psychopath without any capacity for emotions. You never loved your brother. You tainted his life with your filthy greed!”

“SHUT UP!” Natfred screeched. “I should have killed you when I had the chance!”

I yelped when Natfred threw a knife at me. Luckily, I ducked to the side. The knife had crashed into the living room window, sending glass flying everywhere.

Natfred continued to throw knives at me, but somehow, I was able to dodge them all. It then proceeded to throw a blender and toaster at me.

“Jesus Christ!” I swore in the heat of the moment. “Are you trying to kill me?! Oh…”

Tragically, all good luck must come to an end.

Natfred pinned me against the counter. “It’s time for you to die,” it hissed, grabbing me by the collar of the shirt.

I hovered over the ground by two feet. “Alfred,” I wheezed. “I know you’re in there. It’s me, Arthur. Fight back, damn you! I know you’re stronger than this! Y-you can’t die! You were right. There’s so many things we never got to do together! I miss you, you dumbass. I want to do stupid things and grow old together, arguing and whatnot. You’re my best friend, so you better fucking come back already!”

“Alfred is gone, I told you that!”

“LET HIM GO!”

CRASH!

Natfred let go of me, falling forward as a Bible smacked into its back. “YOU’LL PAY FOR THIS!”

Well, that was one way to repel a demon with a Bible.

“Francis, you tart. What in the bloody hell are you doing!” I gasped, backing away as Natfred whipped around to glare at Francis.

“Protecting you!” Francis answered, wavering slightly. “Only I can bully you and get away with it!”

Francis everyone.

“You were supposed to use the Bible to repel her figuratively, not literally!”

“It wasn’t working!” Francis shrugged as I joined him by his side. “I had no choice. She was about to kill you.”

I shrugged. “Can’t argue with that logic.”

“GUYS! IT’S READY!” Matthew shrieked.

Francis and I both exchanged wide-eyed looks before sprinting into the living room, crouching next to Matthew in front of the Ouija board.

“WHERE ARE YOU GOING NOW!?” Natfred bellowed, but it was already too late.

We circled the planchette on the board before finally placing it on Goodbye.

“GOODBYE!” Francis, Matthew and I all shrieked.

Natfred collapsed to the ground, twitching once more.

“Aha!” I cried out in triumph. “I hope you rot in hell, right where you belong. You will no longer haunt this house. I revoke any invitation for you to come back. Let this board seal you for eternity!”

Natfred looked up at the ceiling with blank eyes. “Brother, I am sorry,” it wheezed. “Perhaps another day we will be reunited. I will find you, mark my words…”

Natfred made a cliché ‘bleh’ sound before falling still.

I didn’t have time to let out a breath of relief as I had received smacks to both cheeks.

“YOU’RE AN IDIOT!” Matthew and Francis shrieked before crouching over the remains of Natfred, ahem, Alfred.

“Yes, yes, I know,” I bowed my head. “Let’s see if he’s okay. You can lecture me later.”

Matthew pressed his ear to Alfred’s chest. “He’s breathing.”

“Unnngh, burgers,” Alfred muttered to himself.

“Oui, he’s definitely alive,” Francis sighed.

I looked around the living room, petrified by what I saw. The fridge was hanging on a hinge alone with several cabinets, not to mention the many broken plates, dents in the walls, and ruined kitchen appliances.

“Bollocks, Alistair is going to kill me.”

I received another two smacks to the head. “At least Alfred’s okay, though,” I pouted.

Speaking of the previous devil.

Alfred sat up with a groan, eyes widening at the trashed room before him. “Dudes, did we have a killer party or something? What the heck happened in here?”

Matthew and Francis facepalmed while I burst out into tears, bringing Alfred into a hug. “Yeah! Sure! Whatever! We did that! Oh, how I missed you and your idiocy!”

“Yo, are you drunk? Why are you crying? Man, I’m hungry.”

“Screw it, I’m taking a nap,” Matthew declared, slumping against the couch.

“I’ll join you,” Francis offered.

Next thing I knew, Alfred shoved me off him and stood up. He ignored the unhinged fridge door and reached straight up for the freezer, pulling out an ice-cream sandwich.

“I’m going home to microwave this, peace suckas.”

I deadpanned.

Perhaps we should have left him possessed, after all.

-The end

#hetaliaextraganza2k17 #hetalia #aph #aph England #aph America #aph France #aph Canada #aph Belarus #day 6 #tf blood

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