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sophiethewitch1 · 10 months ago

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Hello!!! Its been almost two weeks but like whatever lmfao!! Ive been doing things and unfortunately things have been doing me. I can’t really remember most of it (dissociation) but I know three things happened to me, one was accidentally taking opiods instead of antihistamines, and the last one was i went to the ER because we didnt have the medicine i needed on hand. Wasnt in any real danger i dont think and Im totally fine it was just kind of tiring. I’m not asking for pity or anything I just have a compulsive need to always make excuses for anything i screw up even the slightest.

ANYWAYS!!! FANART?? OH MY GOD!! First of all we got the amazing @catwhispers0 who drew this! and this!! My beautiful boys are so beautiful. And then we have @daisycandydoodles who drew this of our beloved reader having the absolute time of her life!!!!!!! Im so lucky thank you both for being so amazing!!!!

Also, I was thinking that maybe a beta would be good for this because like,,, i can’t remember what i write so it’s pretty hard to make cohesive chapters,,, so if you have betad before or like, have an idea of what its about (flow + the vibes you get from the chapters + some very very kind constructive criticism is what i’m looking for), and want to see chapters as im writing them + listen to me rant about lore and plot hmu!!

TAGLIST IS OPEN, JUST COMMENT OR SEND A MESSAGE IF YOU WANT TO BE ADDED!: @urminebutidontwantyou @amandachrystinallc @brilhantineybag @leeleecats @bungunz @flyingpansaurus @xxrougefangxx @purplelady22 @chuubela @hana-no-seiiki @strawberryforks @skylar-multifandom @i-am-hoe-for-cordelia-carstairs @vanessa-boo @em-draws14 @northmenace @wickedace12 @feyrestan @klifurmus @em8rin @sirenetheblogger

What We Want - Chpt. 5 - Meet The Adams Family

In Which A Romantic Breaks The Universe

(Yandere!batboys x f!reader) 18+ MDNI!

SUMMARY

Another lonely birthday, another empty year. You miss your family. You're late for your bills and rent, and even then, you got robbed last Tuesday.

Still, you buy yourself a cupcake, because you need it. I mean, hey. What's dessert for if not to get over cheating boyfriends and dead relatives?

As you blow out the candle, watching the clock switch from 11:59 pm to midnight of the next day, you make a wish.

And because the world doesn't like to make much sense, it comes true. Your life is suddenly flipped on a dime, and you're stuck trying to catch up with it. Fantasy becomes reality. You're a Wayne now, apparently. Or you used to be. You're loved, you're rich, you're talented and powerful.

Well, sort of. Careful what you wish for, right?

(TRIGGER WARNINGS AND MASTERLIST HERE)

PREV - NEXT

The first thing you’d done when you woke up, still somehow in the Wayne manor, was pull out not-your phone and check the date. When it tells you that you are not, in fact, in some weird version of a time loop, you feel some measure of relief. The second thing you do is look your own damn name up on Google. There were over 3 million results. You have a Wikipedia page. If that hadn’t made you want to gag, the press from last night had you bumbling your way into the ensuite bathroom and puking into the toilet.

It’s still sitting on the bathroom floor, nauseous and achy and sweaty, your mouth washed out but still tasting foul, that you continue your research.

It’s just as you had suspected, your family was dead. Still dead. Well, shit. In the light of day, you supposed that made more sense. That there was no real reason to assume otherwise. You hadn’t for most of yesterday, but as soon as you’d thought that maybe there was a chance, your hopes had been dashed. Which was good, rip the bandaid off and all.

It was good. Things were good. They were fine, you were fine. You really wish you were a better liar.

Again you wash your mouth out. Root around the cabinets for some medical-grade mouthwash, do it again, and then you throw yourself into the shower. Again. You notice the soap smells like whoever’s clothes you stole. Refreshing and awakening, that mint and earth again. You think you can detect something floral in it too. It’s still masculine, but…

Wow, you are such a freak! You put down the fucking soap and manage to resist the urge to slam your head into the tiles. Your headache was bad enough already.

When you leave the bathroom, you glance at the door, and then down at your towel. Guess you’re stealing some more apparel. You find a Superman shirt, give it a judging glance, and then pick out a black T-shirt with ‘The Beatles’ across the front, and some sweatpants. You have to roll up the pant legs so you don’t trip and fall flat on your face.

One hand scrolling through Twitter and TikTok and Reddit and every single piece of social media you could find, getting the people’s source of news and you get the high overlords’ one when you turn on the huge TV attached to the wall. The remote kind of confuses you at first, but you manage to find the good ol’ Gotham news channel.

Immediately, you’re greeted by your miserable mascara-streaked face. You turn the TV off. You take a deep breath. Turn it back on. Luckily it’s not just you getting your private moment of trauma blasted open in the media. Your party had been filled with Gotham’s elite, after all. You weren’t the only rich idiot left crying by the side of the road.

You weren’t the only one who had to suffer. There had been twenty-eight casualties, in total. A small amount, considering the man behind the deaths. The Joker wasn’t known for his cleanliness. You tell yourself that, and yet still, you can’t make them just numbers. They’d been standing right next to you, after all. All in the same boat, all waiting for the axe to swing, secretly hoping you’re the one who lives to the next day. Only one of the party guests had been shot, and that’s because you think they’d personally pissed off the Joker. That’s what Twitter says, anyway. There were multiple video recordings of the altercation, and it didn’t look like he’d been the smartest banana in the bunch. The TV is a lot sweeter on the dead soul.

You feel sorry for all the dead. You still don’t think this rich heir should be the face you see, though. When you check his name, you find several forgotten assault cases. Assault, rape, just like that disappearing bastard had tried to do to you. That female janitor you’d seen shot had done more for this city than that guy ever had.

Did her family know? Did she have a family? Someone to mourn her? You’d never thought about that before. How many people out there wouldn’t have anyone to even remember them?

It’s none of your business, in the end.

After a whiles more research, you switch the TV off and tuck your cracked phone into the sweatpants. You know where your mother’s grave is, on the west side of the estate. Wikipedia knew all, which was now kind of creepy to you as it knew all about you as well. Really, you couldn’t believe it. Your mother, buried with the Waynes? You’d always thought she should find someone new, someone who’d appreciate her, unlike your father who had dipped as soon as Sam was born.

You couldn’t even remember the guy. Still, you remembered that he’d smelled bad and made your Mum do everything, and was just generally all around the worst choice for a husband.

But, Jesus Christ, Bruce Wayne? Absolute insanity. You had no idea how the two of them would’ve even met. Let alone fall in love and get married. Your mother was one of the loveliest women on earth but… they had absolutely nothing in common, other than having troublesome kids. And you hadn’t seen her getting lovey-dovey with the other PTA mums.

You walk out of the room you’ve borrowed and into the hallway. In the light of day, the Wayne manor is much less creepy, and you can find it in yourself to appreciate the antique space. Warm sunlight falls over dark oak furniture, illuminating your bare feet as you walk along the Persian rug. Your fingers trail along all the tiny little decorations, some annoying part of you demanding you leave traces of yourself behind. Your fingerprints dirty an old clock, a golden candelabra, a lamp and a tiny spinning globe.

You might’ve gotten lost in a place this huge if you couldn’t hear people’s voices floating down the halls. They were too far away for you to be able to tell what they were saying, but you could still hear them. They’re to the west, so you’re definitely going to have to go past them.

You follow the voices and eventually come to a stop in a hallway. You can smell food. Good, real food. The type that makes your instant-ramen-powered body salivate. The people are in the kitchen, right around the corner. You duck your head and quickly sneak past the mostly closed doorway. On the other side, you pause, your curious self unable to leave just yet.

“She needs help,” Bruce says, and you mentally curse. Balls. You didn’t want to hear this. You guess this was instant karma for snooping. Maybe they weren’t talking about you?

Why did that sound very unlikely…

“She went through a lot last night,” he continues, which, well, yes, you did go through a lot, “And he said that she saw a woman get shot right in front of her. It makes sense if she doesn’t want to talk yet.”

He? Who’s he? Who ratted you out? Wait, dumb question, the four other witnesses who saw the janitor get shot. You were still pretty sure the Waynes weren’t supposed to know that, but everybody knew those GCPD pigs were always just a dollar away from whatever you wanted them to do. It’s not surprising that the Waynes know details only the police should know at the moment.

…It is a bit disappointing, though. You chose to have hope in them, that they’d gotten that information legally. Your fatal obsession with the Waynes wasn’t going to disappear after one miserable party. You wished it would.

“She was acting strange before that,” Timothy Jackson Drake’s smooth voice drifts from the kitchen. You were still a little starry-eyed over him, which was… bad, you think. It’d definitely make whatever relationship the two of you had been forced into a whole lot more difficult. It did not need to be any more difficult.

“Are you accusing her of something?” Bruce Thomas Wayne’s voice is gravelly in comparison, angry, maybe. Also, ‘accusing’? What could he even be accusing you of? It was pretty obvious you weren’t capable of anything nefarious, you were far too stupid for that. You were a plastic bag drifting along the Gotham river, barely able to affect which direction you flowed in.

“God no. And I definitely wouldn’t do it with her listening, that’d be rude.”

Your breath hitches, and you push off from the wall. Busted, damn. Your face feels unbelievably hot. As you leave, you can hear Mr Wayne scolding his adopted son. You walk until you can’t hear their voices anymore, and then a little further, finding an exit door.

You stumble out onto a stone staircase, probably a servants’ one in the olden days. You move down it, hand gripping the railing. You’re barely conscious of where you’re going. There’s a path that leads away from the stone manor and further into the estate, and you follow it. When you spot a small gated area, with stone obelisks and angel statues, you veer off the path and onto the grass.

Hissing out a breath, it’s only now you realise you went outside without any shoes on. Your toes curl in the cold, wet grass. It’s a miserable feeling, and you want to walk right back inside. And then you think about the awkward conversation waiting for you, take a breath and keep going. The gates swing open easily under your hand, the golden embossed ‘W’ glinting in the light.

A guardian angel stands before you. Its stone face is disapproving, glaring down at you from above. ‘Interloper,’ it calls you, but you move past it without pausing. It’s pretty obvious which graves are the new ones and which are the old ones. They’re all clean and well-kept, but the ones to the left have dates going back hundreds of years, and the ones to the right only decades. Your eyes follow the rows of graves. Thomas Wayne, Martha Wayne…

Your breath whistles out of you, nearly muffled by the grey morning wind.

And your mother. She has a different last name, now another Wayne. Your siblings don’t, which makes sense. You’re surprised to find many of your extended family also in this graveyard. Your grandmother. Your uncle and aunt. A few of your cousins.

It’s cold this morning, and you’re out here with only a thin T-shirt on. Shivering, you rub your palms against your bare arms. It doesn’t do much. Still, you don’t want to go inside yet. Instead, you crouch in front of Sam’s grave, eyes reading the tiny epitaph. It’s not the one you wrote.

‘Beloved Son and Brother.’

Simple, clean-cut, formal… unfamiliar, you suppose. Yours had been much more flowery, ‘All the colour in the world is gone without you’. It was a bit silly, but you’d never said you were a poet. You’d just known you’d wanted something that represented them, if poorly.

Sam was a beloved son and brother. But that wasn’t who he chose to be. He liked colours. He’d change his favourite every other day, so he liked everything rainbow. It made it easier to choose which one he’d like next, he said. You were always buying him more and more coloured pencils because he’d wear them all down to the tips, he dyed the cat a bright red headache, much to your mother’s horror, and considered it his personal job to make every single birthday, christmas, and easter card. He’d paint on the walls in washable markers, and you’d often been the one to volunteer to help him get it all down. In school, he always had the best art project out of the entire class, even if you were slightly biased.

He was a colourful kid. He wasn’t… a plain grey tombstone. Nothing to help remember him, because you were always losing more and more of their precious memories.

The others had similarly impersonal graves. Just what they were, not who. Mother, sister. Nothing that spoke of how they’d lived their lives, what the world had lost when they’d died. It was… you didn’t think it was right. It was a disaster, really. Even when you’d had to rely on the Wanye Foundation donations, you’d managed a better resting place than this.

You suppose you’d never gotten them into the Wayne family’s personal graveyard, though. That was a bit of an upgrade, you guess.

“You need to come back inside. You’re worrying my father.”

“Jesus Christ!” you shriek, leaping backward. Your foot catches on one of the cobblestones, and you end up tipping back farther than you mean to, your ass bruising against the ground. You bump another gravestone, and there’s a horrible moment where it gives a little and you think it’s going to knock over.

It doesn’t. A shining miracle on your day.

From your slightly wet seat on the ground, you look up, finding one such Damian Al Ghul-Wayne. His towering height is the first thing you notice, second his stunning emerald green eyes. Both were incredibly shocking in their own ways, but his height really was almost dizzying. Perfect brown skin and a stylish 'long on the top, short on the sides’ black haircut, paired with the sort of face some European model might have, all come together to make sure you feel as pathetic as possible. His posh-looking outfit doesn’t help.

Neither does the fact he just watches you. He doesn’t even pretend to bend over to help you up. Which you’re sort of grateful for, honestly. It’d just make you more embarrassed. You didn’t know if you could hold the hand of your celebrity crush and… well, be normal. Pretend to be normal. You weren’t doing a very good job of it anyway.

You have to wonder, which was the worst introduction? The drunk, the bloody, or the one where you fell on your ass? God, you really are screwing this all the way up. You wonder how you’re inevitably going to make it even worse. There’s a part of you that desperately doesn’t want to meet any of the other Waynes, even as another part of you is screaming that it needs to.

If they knew they had a fangirl in their graveyard, you’re sure they’d kick you out. That was why you were lying about everything, not because you had intimacy issues.

Stop thinking, you idiot! You’re only making things more difficult for yourself with all your worrying and fretting. And maybe you should get off the ground, you looked stupid. You push to your feet, wiping your dirtied hands on the sweats.

He still doesn’t say anything when you stand, still just staring at you. His open staring is far too intimidating, so you scrounge for something to say.

“Your father? You- Is he alright?” you stammer over your words, giving Damian Wayne an awkward smile. He doesn’t return it, instead canting his head towards one of the windows.

You look toward where Damian Wayne gestured to, find nothing but an empty window frame, and then back to the ridiculously tall man. You swear, the guy had grown like a bean pole. He had to be something ridiculous, like 6’5, or maybe more. You were fairly certain you’d been taller than him at twelve, or thirteen, whenever it was he was first introduced to the world as Damian Wayne. Now, now… not so much.

“There’s nobody in there?” you ask, like you’re questioning your sanity. You are.

“My father’s shy,” He says, coolly shrugging one shoulder.

What. Bruce Wayne? Shy? Was he joking or something?

Damian Wayne stares down at you with narrowed green eyes, and dark brows in a harsh frown. His arms are crossed over his rich kid sweater, shiny black shoes tapping against the cobbles. That’s not the face of someone who makes jokes, you think.

You swallow, mind whirring as you try desperately to fix this conversation, “Right. Okay. I’ll… I’ll come back inside, then. Sorry for bothering you guys.”

He keeps staring at you. He doesn’t seem bothered.

“Sorry for bothering him?” you correct.

Damian gives one slow, cat-like blink of his eyes, and then turns with a tsk and walks away. It takes you a moment to realise you’re meant to follow him. It takes you even longer to actually catch up with him because he’s so fucking tall.

On TV he didn’t look this tall. You feel kind of betrayed, which is weird.

As you’re walking along, getting closer back to the manor, a stick or something pokes you in the foot. You curse, grabbing your foot. Thankfully you don’t start bleeding or something. You’d already be tracking dirt all over the inside of the impeccable space, you didn’t want to bring blood in as well. It takes a moment for you to realise the sound of Damian’s footsteps crunching in the grass has stopped, and you glance up.

He’s staring right at you again. He looks even less impressed with you, raising an eyebrow and mouth ticking downward. You put your foot down and tuck your hands behind your back in a very obvious anxious display.

“You went outside not wearing any shoes?” Damian Wayne asks, incredulous.

“I was… yeah, I forgot to,” you say, shrugging your shoulders. Not your best moment, but you weren’t really having any of those today. Or yesterday. Or the day before. Maybe you should stop thinking about that, actually.

“That’s disgusting,” The young Wayne sneers, and then turns and gives you his shoulder.

You think your heart maybe cracks a little. Well, they do say to never meet your idols. Maybe whoever wrote that quote had you in mind specifically, because now you were in… this situation. Ex-step-sister. If that was a thing. Your Wikipedia page said that you said that a lot, very insistent that you had absolutely nothing to do with the Waynes.

…It didn’t really look like you had nothing to do with the Waynes, from an outsider's perspective. Which obviously didn’t make any sense, since you were… you. You were not an outsider, not anymore.

This was too complicated. You needed a coffee. With like, so much sugar it’ll make you bounce from the walls.

Damian strides up the side entrance’s staircase and through the door, leaving it open for you to follow through. You hesitate at the doorway, looking over your shoulder to the graveyard. The statue calls you names in the distance, and although you feel like a stranger who doesn’t belong here, you manage to step back into the house.

You force yourself to walk through the hallway and into the kitchen, fists clenched tight at your side and your shoulders bunched up to your ears. Bruce Thomas Wayne, Timothy Jackson Drake, and the butler from earlier. Damian Al Ghul Wayne steps around the trio, picking some drink from the counter and moving to sit at the dining table at the edge of the room. There’s an open book on the table that he starts flicking through, and well, apparently that’s the end of your first conversation with the youngest Wayne.

You did… well, alright might be pushing it. You're still going to say you did alright.

Tim Drake gives you a sweet smile, catching your attention. The silky raven hair of his heart-shaped fringe falls over his beautiful, pale face, and for a moment there you totally forget that he’d called you out earlier like that. Which was just, such an odd thing to do. His hand lifts to scratch at the buzz cut under the floppy strands of hair. The movement mesmerises you. You look away from his sky blue eyes, very quickly realising they’re robbing you of the few remaining brain cells you have. And you need those, damn it. Especially because you’d already made the decision to hide from all your problems like a baby. Negative, negative…

“How’re you doing today?” Tim asks you, giving you a friendly greeting. It’s a welcome olive branch.

“I’m good,” you lie like you breathe, eyes glancing around the space. Bruce Wayne has his phone out and a mug of coffee in his hands. He sips from the cup, his focus swallowed by the tiny screen. You glance back over to Damian Wayne. Huh, it really does run in the family.

Your neck prickles, and you glance back at Tim again. You get a brief vision of his tired, unsmiling expression, and then it’s back to the angelic and gentle smile. You smile back at him, a wretched, awful twisting of the lips that you hope doesn’t look like a grimace.

Tim’s smile turns into a grin. It’s really too pretty and makes you shift in your seat uncomfortably. Damn it all, look away!

“Would you like some breakfast, young miss? I’m afraid we’ve run out of pancakes, but I’d be happy to make some more for you,” the butler says in an awfully familiar British accent. You think you know this person, but you can not remember from where. Shit. Your memory was bad on the best of days, much less after… after an event like last night.

Anyway, the food from earlier had been pancakes. Despite the delicious scent, you really didn’t want to make him make any more food for you. You felt like you were intruding as it was.

“Do you have any toast, or… cereal?” you suggest instead, wondering if rich people even bother with cereal. The butler chuckles, and you think, ‘Oh, yeah, probably not’.

“We have both, miss. Master Grayson has a particular fondness for cereal, in fact,” he informs you, which, oh, cool. You did in fact know that, you stalker you. You’d totally forgotten about that weird fact or the weird fact that you knew that weird fact. Dick Grayson has an Instagram where he posts reviews of different cereals, which of course you have notifications on for.

“It’s more of an obsession,” Tim says, resting his palm in his hand as he… continues to stare at you. Nobody else thinks his ogling is strange, so you try to ignore it as well. Try is the choice word.

“I like cereal too. It’s normal,” you say in defence of Dick, a natural and instinctual urge.

And apparently, the fact that you like cereal is fucking shocking, judging from the open-mouth looks the group gives you. Oh no, you’re supposed to hate him, right? You’re supposed to hate them all, actually. What had you called him on your phone? Something about being annoying and a dickhead?

Swallowing your inner scream, you move around the counter and towards the cupboards. Whatever, they’ll have to deal with this new and improved version of you, which didn’t despise everyone in the room. Along with being a terrible liar, you were also pretty bad at keeping secrets.

You don’t want to think about that, so instead you turn to Alfred.

“So,” you start, “Can I see your cereal collection?” you ask, like a totally normal person. Man, this cupboard’s looking pretty head-smashable right now.

This family has more tact than yours did, because they all manage to put their eyes back to what they were doing and pretend you weren’t acting really, really out of character. Rich people. They’re good at overlooking the crazy.

“Of course,” the butler clears his throat, “In here, you’ll find Master Dick’s collection-” score! Not another fan can claim this right, “-and in the fridge a carton of milk. Are you sure I couldn’t serve it for you, miss? I understand you might still be a little…”

His voice trails off. Little what?

He glances at the others and then leans in close like he’s going to tell you a secret. Behind a hand, he whispers, “Hungover.”

Ah. Well, yes, but you were a big girl who could make her cereal, even on hangover days. Kind of embarrassing it was that obvious, though. You were usually better at hiding how much of a mess you were.

“I’ll be fine, thank you,” you say, and the butler nods and backs off. You’re pretty sure at this point that he was the one who called you yesterday morning, but you still couldn’t quite recall his name. When you were out of sight, you’d check your phone for his contact information.

See? You could do this. Stealthy.

As you start perusing through the cereal options, Tim gets up from his spot by the counter and comes to stand next to you at the breakfast bar. He heads straight to the coffee machine, and you glance at it longingly.

It’s one of those cafe-quality fancy espresso makers, with an Italian name embossed in silver on the top. Tim manipulates the machine like a master, which you’re very jealous of because it might as well be alien technology to you. You miss your shitty drip coffee, at least that dingy little machine was loyal to you. Better than George.

“Coffee?” Tim Drake offers, glancing at you. Ah, the starry eyes are back. While Damian Wayne had been a mildly disappointing introduction, Mr. Drake was just reinforcing your celebrity worship. And of course, because your brain works against you, his offer reminds you of the daydreams you’d had on your first twenty-first birthday. Coffee shop au real person fiction- a new low, even for you.

Flustered, you look up at the ceiling. The old mansion is decorated in every single available corner, the plaster above spreading across the entire surface with delicate filigree and pretty curling patterns. It’s gorgeous, absolutely entrancing. That’s what you tell yourself at least.

“Please,” you say, your voice just the slightest bit too quiet. He hears you anyway.

It’s surprisingly domestic. Of course, you don’t know any of these people past face value and Wired YouTube interviews, but… it’s quite indulgent. This is sort of your dream, isn’t it? A full house of people enjoying their morning together. Peaceful bird song drifting in through open windows. The comfort of being around people you trust, not having to perform or put on a show. Well, you are very much putting on a show right now. It’s the thought that counts, or whatever.

“What would you like in it? We have sugar, milk, oat milk, and I like having a few syrups on hand,” Tim chatters excitedly, listing off the different ingredients he has on offer. Your poor ass stares at his rich one, and you are very rudely reminded these people live in different tax brackets than you.

Who the fuck had coffee syrups in their house? You could barely afford the little treats of caramel syrup you get every couple of months. The disappearance of the middle class was one you had witnessed personally.

You rattle off a very basic, bland order. Tim looks sort of disappointed in you which… well, you could be a coffee snob. You just didn’t have the time, usually. A flat white kept you going through the day, you didn’t need anything else. And so, Tim hands you a very bland coffee, and it is god sent. You can’t imagine how good it would be if you had mustered up your courage and asked for some caramel syrup.

Huh, you could be a coffee snob. You could be anything you wanted, really. And your first thought is being a coffee snob. Good God.

“Are you going to be staying?“ Bruce Wayne asks, immediately putting you on the spot. You weren’t ready for this, you were thinking about the coffees you could buy. Oh no, you really aren’t ready for this.

“At least for now, right?” Tim Drake says, just making it all the more stressful. You let out an awkward chuckle, fingers tight around your drink.

“Oh, I don’t want to be an inconvenience-”

Damian Wayne slams his mug down on the table, so hard a crack splinters up its side. He picks the cup up, strides across the kitchen, narrowed green eyes meeting yours for a second, and then he dumps the cup in a secret rubbish can. He murmurs an apology to the butler and then is out of the room.

Okay, well, you certainly feel like an inconvenience.

The butler clears his throat, and says, “Please forgive young master Damian. He’s been having a difficult time recently, I hope you can understand.”

And you think, ‘bitch, a difficult time?! He’s not the one who almost died last night!’ but what you say is, “Of course, I completely understand. I don’t want to bother him anymore so I’d really like to leave today.”

Mr. Wayne laces his fingers together, blue eyes giving you an assessing look.

“Stay for the day, and you can leave tonight. I want to make sure you’re truly alright,” he eventually says, and the mere presence of the man has you yielding to his commands. Didn’t really matter you were an adult who’d managed to survive this long on your own, you were listening to the big scary guy when he told you what to do.

Well, that’s that! You make your cereal and have a very quiet breakfast. You can’t tell if they’re being quiet because you’re here, or if mornings are usually like this. You hope they’re usually like this. Once you’ve finished your very nice cereal (one of the highest rated on Dick’s Instagram) you place the bowl by the sink. You want to wash it, but when you ask Alfred he gives you a look like you kicked his dog. Okay, you’ll just go then.

You’re about to sneak away, when you realise Tim’s staring at you… again…? But this time he seems quite focused on your clothing. His eyes follow the double lines on the side of your sweatpants, before settling on the Beatles logo on your shirt. He hums at it. Raises his brows.

“I’m sorry, I borrowed this because I didn’t have any other clothes. Is there something wrong with me wearing this?” you ask, and then experience a moment of horror, “This doesn’t belong to you, does it?”

“Hmm?” Tim chirps, “Oh, no, don’t worry. It’s not mine.”

And then he turns away from you in a very clear dismissal. Nice, you really wanted to go hide for an hour or two. With one last awkward wave to Bruce Thomas Wayne, you scurry out of the kitchen and back to the bedroom you’d started thinking of as yours. You need to figure out how you're going to handle all this, and you're going to do it alone. Maybe with some dessert, if you can find it. You wouldn't say you think better with sugar running in your veins, but it definitely makes you more willing to deal with the bullshit that is your life. Hopefully it'd work in your new one, too.

Tim listens to your retreating footsteps, waiting till you’re far enough away to begin talking to Bruce. Humans were creatures of habit, so you’d probably be going back to the same room you slept in last night. He thinks Damian and him were the only ones who noticed whose shirt you were wearing, B’s off his game today. You’ve really managed to mess him up, to Tim’s delight.

“See? Dames was totally fine with her being here,” Tim says, cheerily enjoying his youngest sibling’s suffering. Bruce sighs, witheringly, lifting his hand to rub against the headache he always has. He’s probably noticed the excited, slightly fanatic gleam that’s entered into Tim’s eyes.

It was sort of obvious. This was all so exciting! You’d come back, sporting absolutely none of the defensive vitriol you usually have, and ate breakfast together. You took a coffee out of Tim’s hands. You’d willingly spoken to the devil, who everybody in the family knew hated you as much as you hated him, and even more than that-

You’d spoken to Bruce. Tim was sporting the idea that you’d gotten head trauma, at this point in time.

“Okay, fine. You get the mission, but-” Tim has to resist the urge to clap his hands together like a gleeful child “-but no extra cameras. I’m serious, Tim, if I find out you’ve invaded her privacy just after she’s starting to warm up to us again-”

“She wouldn’t know,” Tim complains, cutting the Bat off with a roll of his eyes.

“She’s smarter than you’d think,” Bruce shakes his head. Tim has to disagree, after the catastrophe that was last night. Unless of course, you were just playing with them all. So many options, it’s dizzying.

“We’ll shelve that argument for later. So, I want full control of the case, and in turn, I’ll do another two weeks as CEO,” Tim waves off Bruce’s complaints, going straight into haggling. The CEO position was tossed between the two of them like a hot potato, and it was one of Tim’s favourite bargaining tools.

“I am absolutely not agreeing to that, a month and nothing less.”

“This is why half your children don’t talk to you, but sure, whatever. Chase away your last, loyal loving son-”

“My God, Tim. Three fucking weeks, and if I hear another word I will hand this matter over to Grayson,” Bruce sighs, sounding a bit defeated.

Tim gives an offended gasp, placing his hand against his chest. And then he realises Bruce might actually be serious, and freaks out a bit.

“He’d be bad for it. Far too personally involved. You definitely don’t want to do that,” he says, leg bouncing under the table. Of course, the Bat notices, but he doesn’t mention it. He wouldn’t take this from Tim, they both knew he was getting too frazzled around the edges. He needed something to focus on, to ground him.

You were the perfect project. He loved his projects.

“I am aware. But the girls are out of town, and uncontactable. And I think if I gave Damian this assignment the two of them would kill each other.”

“No Jason option, sir?” Tim says because he’s a shit-stirrer and wants to get to work.

Tim succeeds in chasing Bruce away. He’s left to have his coffee in peace as the old man quickly flees the room at the mention of the son he's on the worst terms with. For the next few hours, Tim taps away on his computer, enjoying his time.

And when the front doors open, his ears prick, and a decidedly evil grin spreads on his face.

“I’m home!” Dick calls out, words travelling through the grand manor.

Tim gets up from his seat and wanders leisurely to the main hall, where Dick stands. He’s got a suitcase by his side, filled with all the things he’s brought up from the Blud. When he spots Tim, Dick’s face spreads in a familiar sunny smile. He quickly rushes to Tim’s side, swallowing the younger brother in a hug. Tim groans at the tight squeezing.

Despite his clinginess, it was good to see him. His tanned skin glowed healthily, and his curly black hair was messy over his brow. Sapphire blue eyes sparkled. He was happy to be home, despite everything that was going on. Dick always looked like he’d just gotten back from a run because he usually had. It was hard to get the guy to sit still for even a minute, much less stop parkouring over every imaginable surface.

“Tim! How’s it been? Ah, it’s so good to be home,” Dick starts, and again, Tim groans. When Dick starts yammering he never stops.

“I’m good, man. We can talk later, you should go put your things away before Alfred does,” Tim reminds Dick, and Dick pouts. It was a general rule that unless it was cooking, the family wasn’t supposed to rely on Alfred for everything.

“Alright, alright. I’ll be down in a minute! I have so much to tell you,” Dick relents, hand lifting to mess with his hair. Tim pushes him off, glaring at the man, and Dick laughs.

Tim gives Dick a tired wave as the gymnast bounds up the stairs to his bedroom. Tim watches him disappear down the hallways, and thinks, ‘I wish I could see this happen.’ He sighs, guess he’ll just have to hear Dick retell the story later. The distant sound of your shrieking voice has him chuckling. Yeah, he’ll hear about it later, he’s sure.

MASTERLIST - NEXT

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costanzian · 2 years ago

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i will kill all skylar white haters with my cool weapon #im a dangerous criminal

#i luv her #james.txt

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vampireghostlawyer · 3 years ago

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WALTER WHITE.... versus... RICK GRIMES..... begin !!

Rick: Carl stay back! This is bout to get bad while i show this lab rat how to be a real dad

cooking up blue sky and bigger lies for skylar

hatchin little schemes like a dying macguyver

you tore your family apart sin by sin

where im from it happens literally limb from limb

so write this down in yuor pancakes so you wont gorget

i kill walkers who are better man than you before breakfast

Walter: I don’t. know WHAT you think i’ve done, but if we were to battle...

i’ve already won >: )

ask gus ! you don’t wanna face off against me!

i’ll stuff yuo in a barrel, and make a dude smoothie.

your sense of duty gets your group into some deep doody

always egttin saved by some samurai booty.

I’m a KINGPIN cookin crystal in tha middle of tha day

havin dinner by tha pool with the D E A

run u over with my aztek, G T A if you ever tryta stop heisenberg gettin paid

Here’s a HOT DOSE let me watch you CHOKE on the truth... you look up to ME like I’m a PIZZA on the ROOF.

you’re a loser, a failure to your whole entire crew, i’ve seen walter junior handle walkers better than you.

Rick: Carl i said stay back with the others, while i finish this bitch like you finish your mother

you ain’t a danger to me walt so knock all ya want

i’ll watch you get eaten in my fuckin front lawn

Walter: YOU don’t frigthen me and YOU can bite me, i’ll be standing right ehre in my tighty walter whities

i’ll bury you faster than your partner stole your whole life.. no one saw shane cumming except for your WIFE !!!

Who won !!! who ‘s next !! you decide

#clem.txt #delete later

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gh0stiegirlie · 4 years ago

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synopsis: all it took was one glance at the hotheaded boy at the U.A. exam, and you were smitten. for deku, it was a single act of kindness that instigated his immediate attraction to uraraka. several months into school, best friends Skylar and deku are left heartbroken when. uraraka and bakugou start a relationship. when you and deku find yourselves confiding in each other, a question arises; is this love, or loneliness? are you two better just as friends?

a/n: lmao hey im not dead whats gud

word count: 2.8k

<- pt. 2 pt.4 (expect monday, sept 7th) ->

Moments later, the sound Bakugous boots stomping across the linoleum floor echos throughout the hall. He remains quiet as he follows you, not risking the punishment of disturbing other hero classes by spewing his typical demeaning insults or using his quirk But a glance behind your shoulder reveals how threatening he is, even in silence. His grin is sadistic, and there’s fierce passion in his eyes.

The passion to rip your fucking guts out, that is.

Bakugou's animalistic instincts kick in the longer the chase persists, his mind dismissing everything but you, his prey.

A few twists and turns later, you Bakugous fingers grasp the back of your shirt collar. You gasp as he violently pulls you back into his chest, only letting go once he's thrown you on the ground. He looms over you with a crazed look on his face, his smile crooked and his eyes ablaze. He looks batshit crazy, yet you think it’s insanely attractive.

“You’re going to pay for that, you cowardly bastard,” he growls, his vermillion eyes pouring liquid rage into yours.

Perfect.

You hold his gaze and activate your quirk.

Suddenly, wordless cries reverberate throughout the chasms of his mind. Wails and shrieks pound against his head, desperate to escape. He cowers into a fetal position with his hands covering his ears, a fruitless attempt to keep the howls out. All Bakugou can see before the world goes dark is the glow of your e/c eyes.

You push yourself off the floor as Bakugou begins to rub his eyes, a feeble attempt to regain sight. Your attack will keep him at bay for a while, giving you the perfect opportunity to escape to the training grounds.

At the time you arrive on the grounds, Bakugou wearily rises to his feet. The world spins around him while three words spin around his mind.

What the fuck?!

Granted, Bakugou knew you were powerful.

Well, the better word is he was aware you were powerful.

He considered you were a slimy wannabe hero when he caught you knocking out other contestants to steal their wins during the entrance exam, but decided you were just another extra when you practically failed Aizawa’s physical tests on the first day. His feelings only changed when you almost fought in him at the sports festival. He heard your battle was intense, but half ‘n half managed to blow you off the court before you could incapacitate him. Even though you lost that third round, you made it pretty damn far.

But, he didn’t know you were capable of disabling him with a single glance.

You’ve impressed him.

But the cost of impressing and temporarily impairing Bakugou is your strength. Using your special move always takes a physical toll on you. Bakugous throbbing brain keeps him grounded in reality, while your piercing pain keeps you awake enough to make it to the training grounds.

When Bakugou arrives you’ve collected your bearings, your headache subdued by a few Advils.

“Took you long enough,” you jeer, crossing your arms and standing your ground.

Bakugou is heaving, his vermillion eyes communicating what his mouth can’t.

And they say he’s going to fry you like dead meat.

A low, guttural noise builds up in Bakugous chest. It builds and rises in his body like hot air, until finally he releases it with a battle cry, “I’m going to kill you!”

He charges at you with explosions from both hands, baring his teeth like a rabid dog.

The rapid firing of his explosions leave you no time to think of a strategy, so you focus on dodging while getting in close. From this length, you can momentarily harvest some of his thoughts. But honestly, it seems like he’s blind with rage and firing recklessly.

You should know Bakugou better than that.

He’s aware that after the stunt you pulled earlier, your quirk works best at a short distance. The fact you need direct eye contact to activate your quirk effectively is a clear sign proximity is a limitation of yours. He also knows that powerful move must have exhausted you. Not only will his long-range blasts and constant movement make it nearly impossible for you to make eye contact with him, but your attempts to dodge them and get closer will wear you out even more. Then, depending on if you make an attack from this long-distance and how strong that attack is, he’ll know more about the restrictions of your quirk. He grins to himself, thinking how he’s too amazing for his own good.

You also take a moment to smile to yourself. Little does he know you have the ability to briefly manifest the thoughts of others, and heard his entire plan. You have to admit, that clever strategy would’ve totally defeated you.

Too bad it’s completely useless.

If he plans to keep you at a distance until you're worn out, that means you have to get in close as soon as possible. Meaning you have to rush in and run the risk of being hit with one of his blasts.

You know Bakugou isn’t dumb. You notice he never fires from the same position or with the same type of explosion. He’s always moving, constantly searching for your blind spot, and changing how he attacks. One second he’s on your left, using both hands to shoot you with one ginormous fire-ball. The next, he’s behind you and sending a million tiny blasts your way. Finding a way to slip past his advanced combat skills is nearly impossible.

Nearly.

You’ve been playing this game of cat and mouse for a few minutes now. You’re falling into a rhythm; he shoots, you dodge, and he shoots again. He’s falling into a pattern; shoot, move, shoot again, move again. Knowing where he’ll land next is a matter of understanding the when and where of his reactions. When you dodge an attack, when does he decide to change up his behavior, and where does he go to deliver the next blast?

Bakugou is convinced that your sluggish reaction times are proof of his oncoming victory. While, yes, the heaviness of physical exhaustion is starting to weigh you down, the real reason is focusing on formulating a plan. And for someone with a mental quirk like you, thinking is the most dangerous thing you can do.

When it appears that your body is about to give up, Bakugou runs and aims an explosion in the exact place you expected. You manage to meet his eyes and send hundreds of whispered messages into his brain. He falters on his shot, dazed and confused. You surprise him by sprinting straight to his strategically plotted spot, and therefore, face-planting into his chest. The sudden force of his chest mixed with your momentum sends you both flying back.

You planned to land on top of Bakugou, which would not only pin him to the ground and secure your victory, but also gave you an excuse to straddle his hips in the way you’ve spent so many math classes dreaming about. But instead, you both end up rolling across the ground. You land on your stomach, and after taking a few moments to recover, you catch Bakugou sprawled out on his back.

This is my chance.

You clumsily push yourself off the ground and stumble over to Bakugou. You practically fall on top of him, and the sudden weight ontop of his sore core forces a groan to escape his lips. He weakly tries to push you off him, but his failed attempts leave him flailing his arms and legs to try and squirm out from under you. He’s acting like a toddler throwing a tantrum.

"How does it feel to lose, Bakugou?" you smirk. “It’s embarrassing enough that you always lose to Deku, and now you’re losing to his girlfriend too! It’s so pathetic I almost feel bad for you!”

A moment ago, every limb in Bakugous body was screaming at him to sleep. Now, his it burns alive with rage. He uses the rage surging through his veins to generate one last explosion that shoots you into the sky. After a few seconds of soaring upwards, Bakugou launches himself in your direction with the last explosions his tired body can summon. He wraps his arms around your back and pulls you into his chest, one of his hands holding your head in the nape of his neck for extra protection. The two of you spiral in the air like a torpedo.

The sky expels you into the ground like a bullet, and the concrete cracking beneath you.

When you open your eyes, Bakugou is swaying above you. His eyes are half-lided, and blood drips from his nose onto your face.

“Lets… Call it even…” you mumble as he collapses beside you.

You both spend a few minutes slipping in and out of consciousness, desperately searching at the barriers of your mind for an escape through. Eventually, Bakugou gains enough strength to slip his way through a crack. He picks you up bridle style and carries you to the outskirts of U.A. High. Unable to go any further, he slides against one of the buildings walls into a sitting position, resting your head on the side of his thigh once he’s comfortable.

Only now does he see how beautiful you are.

Your resting face is so peaceful, his racing heart calms the longer he stares. Your skin glistens underneath the sun, every bead of sweat rolling down your cheeks looking like a shooting star gliding across the beautiful night sky. Your e/c hair wreathes around Bakugou’s legs like a corkscrew, and he delicately untangles your soft locks. Sometimes your nose twitches as he pulls at your hair, but only when he brushes a stray flyaway out of your face do your eyes finally flutter open.

Your body is bruised and bloodied, and the worst of your injuries are the concrete chunks penetrating deep cuts in your back. Although Bakugou finds every girl looks beautiful after a fight. And you, even with your injuries, are no exception.

It’s not because he’s some kinky pervert, but he sees these injuries as markings of a true hero. A true hero is someone who endures pain but always keeps fighting. He thought since you were dating that nerd you were a pussy, but you’ve proven to him you’re a total badass.

Bakugou’s eyes are inches away from yours. You immediately notice his glare isn’t as… Spiteful, as usual. It’s serene. And it’s making you blush.

“How long have you been staring at me like that for, perv?” You yawn with a stretch. Your forearms rub against Bakugous thighs as you pop your elbows. His face turns a shade of pink, not the angry intense red he’s is accustomed to.

“Hey! I saved your life, idiot. You should be thanking me!” Bakugou fumes, the color of his face slowly deepening to his typical red.

“Yeah, and you’re also the person who tried to fucking explode me! So it cancels out, you asshole!” You yell as you dart up, only to fall back down. You struggle once more to your feet only to collapse in a heap. “Fuck, I can’t---” you mumble, the world around you fading to black. You scream for your mouth to move and demand your legs to stand, but your body refuses to cooperate. Eventually, you succumb to the darkness.

Bakugou’s battered body is only capable of shuffling with you in his arms to Recovery Girls’ office before he passes out too.

You wake up hours later to the feeling of a cold, wet kiss on your back. You “eugh!” in disgust as you flinch away from Recovery Girl’s lips.

“Ah, glad to see you’re finally awake,” she chirps before turning to treat Bakugou. “You two had quite the battle! Hurt eachother pretty bad for a couple of first years.” She fiercely spins around to wag her wrinkly finger in your face. “Mr. Aizawa will be sure to hear about this!”

“No!” you exclaim, before clearing your throat to lower your voice. “Please don’t tell him Recovery Girl!” you plead more rationally, “Bakugou and I were just having a... tactical battle to find out more about eachothers quirks for an assignment, that’s all! I think we just both got a little carried away…” You rub your injured arm awkwardly.

“Get off me, you old hag!” A now conscious Bakugou commands Recovery Girl. She backs away to her desk to take some notes, but not before calling him an “ungrateful and rude young man”. Bakugou turns to face you, and scans his handiwork (aka, your injuries). “You really got your ass handed to you, huh?” he congratulates himself. You roll your eyes.

“Don’t forget, Recovery Girl is smoochin’ you too. Meaning I did some serious damage.” you point out, fighting a smile. You want to keep your face as smug as Bakugou’s.

“Whatever, loser. We’ll call it a tie,” he smirks at you. “Until I get the chance to beat the shit out of you.”

“Trust me. Next time we fight, there won’t be a tie. Only me standing victorious over your dumb corpse.” you challenge with crossed arms. You can’t help but notice the excitement in Bakugous eyes, and how a genuine grin paves its way across his face. Though when there’s a knock at the door, his smile falls so fast you question if you imagined it.

“Oh! Looks you two have some visitors,” Recovery Girl announces, wobbling towards the door.

Neither you nor Bakugou are in the mood to deal with your significant others. You shake your head and cry, “Please don’t let them in!” But Izuku Texas smashes the door wide open and runs to you, Uraraka following close behind.

“Y/n! Are you okay?!” he cups your cheeks, and you nod. He ignores your affirmation and scans your entire body for any sign of harm. “O-oh, you have scratches everywhere!” He gingerly pokes a healing cut on your knee, causing a hiss of pain to escape you.

“Bakugou, where are you hurt?” Uraraka runs her hands down Bakugous biceps, feeling for any bumps or bruises.

“Get off of me,” he growls under his breath, not wanting to draw your attention to them. “I said, get your hands off of me!” Bakugou raises his voice when Uraraka doesn’t listen to him.

“You,” Izuku glowers at Bakugou, “You did this to her,”

“Izuku, leave him alone,” you plea. He ignores you.

“You hurt her again.” Izuku mumbles, Bakugou quirking his head at the word “again”.

“Zuzu, Bakugou didn’t do shit.” you grab Izukus shoulder to spin him towards you, but he uses his quirk to brush you off. But Izuku ‘brushing you off’ with his quirk means with a single finger flick, he propels you into the wall at the other side of the room.

“Oh dear,” Recovery Girl gasps through a hand over her mouth

“What the hell?!” Bakugou barks, darting over to you. Uraraka catches his arm and holds him back.

You struggle to rise. Your legs shake under your weight, but you force them to support you. You glare at the ground, absolutely mortified. Even though you’re disgusted with Midorya, you manage to look him in his eyes.

“We’re done,” you mumble. At this point your whole body trembles, but you can’t tell if it’s from rage or exhaustion.

“Wuh-what?” Izuku’s puppy dog eyes pout in disbelief. He takes a step towards you but you step away.

“Sorry, was I not loud enough? Allow me to be more clear,”

You shut your eyes. When you open them, they’re neon e/c.

You’re using your second, and final special move to announce to the whole school Izuku can go to hell.

Your sonic blast.

“Izuku Midoriya, you and I are done!” You scream into the minds of the hundreds of students attending U.A. You specifically aim your eyes at Izuku, so he receives the worst of it.

Izuku falls to his knees, his green eyes welling up with tears. You might’ve burst his eardrums with that emission. Good.

With that, you run out of Recovery Girls' office and straight to the gym.

All the emotions you've kept bottled up for this entire year suddenly spill out of you. With every punch, your forbidden feelings for Bakugou wiggle back into your heart. Your pent-up rage for Izuku turns into a feeling you've repressed ever since you started dating.

Regret.

You regret twisting your frustration with Bakugou's and Urarakas relationship into feelings for your best friend.

You slam your fists against the bag, more hot tears streaming down your face with every punch.

You regret ever kissing him that night.

You wish you would've stayed just friends.

omg i have taglist now🥺: @soa1eater

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lambroseforlife · 4 years ago

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Storm and Silence Playlist Part 2.

This is a collab post that I did with @blog-a-la-ambrose a few years ago. She posted Part 1 a while back. Since it was well received, Part 2 of the playlist is quite longer. Songs that go with certain characters/chapters are specified. Other people who suggested other songs are credited, my apologies to those who feel randomly tagged.

Book 3: Silence is Golden

Confident- Demi Lovato

Ocean Eyes- Billy Eilish

Breathe- Télépopmusic

Starving- Hailie Steinfeld ft. Zedd (Lilly)

Into You- Ariana Grande (Lilly)

Hard to Love- MIAMIGO (Rick)

Too Much is Never Enough- Florence and the Machine (Lilly)

Mend This Love- Vaults

Fall- Chloe x Halle (Lilly)

A Little Death- The Neighborhood

Caffeine- Foreign Air (Rick)

Hold- Vera Blue (Lilly)

Jungle Lady- Lion Babe (Lilly)

Uncover- Zara Larson

I Know You- Skylar Grey

Comatose- Skillet

fOol fOr YoU- ZAYN

Dangerous Woman- Ariana Grande

Hands to Myself- Selena Gomez

Sparks- Hilary Duff

I Won’t Say (I’m In Love)- Susan Egan; Hercules OST

Kiss It Better- Rihanna

Greedy- Ariana Grande

Believer- Imagine Dragons (Rick)

Love So Soft- Kelly Clarkson

The Sound of Reverie- The Maine

Capital Letters- Hailee Steinfeld, Bloodpop®

Power- Little Mix (@incorrectstormandsilencequotes) (Chapter 24)

There’s Nothing Holding Me Back- Shawn Mendes (Chapter 31)

Tightrope- Michelle Williams; The Greatest Showman OST (@silentlambrose) (Chapter 46)

Book 4: Silence Breaking

Woman- Harry Styles (Rick)

Love on the Brain- Rihanna (Lilly)

Lowlife- That Poppy (Lilly)

You Dont Own Me- Grace ft. G-Eazy (Lilly)

Im in Love With a Monster- Fifth Harmony (Lilly)

Bad Things- Machine Gun Kelly, Camila Cabello (Lilly and Rick)

Sweetest Taboo- Denton Thrift (Lilly)

I Can Fly- Lana del Rey

Love the Way You Lie (Part II)- Rihanna ft. Eminem

Follow- Tom Misch ft. Laura Misch (Adaira)

People- Kye Kye

Misery- Maroon 5

Complicated- Rihanna

Issues- Julia Michaels

Stitches- Shawn Mendes

All of Me- John Legend

Romance- Ambrose (@luci-moonwalker12)

Dusk Till Dawn- Zayn ft. Sia (@safetyandsilence)

I’m on Fire- AWOLNATION

Sweet Creature- Harry Styles

Something’s Gotta Give- Camila Cabello

A Twist in My Story-Secondhand Serenade (@ramencupstm)

Be Prepared- Jeremy Irons; The Lion King OST (Dalgliesh)

Tell Me You Love Me- Demi Lovato

Jealous- Nick Jonas

Treat You Better- Shawn Mendes (Carter)

I Cant Make You Love Me- Bonnie Raitt (Carter)

I Run to You- Missio (Chapter 5)

Brand New Moves- Hey Violet (Chapter 7) (Lilly)

If I could fly- One Direction (@greeneyesivashkov) (Chapters 36-37)

What Lovers Do- Maroon 5 ft. SZA (Chapter 45)

Fall For You- Secondhand Serenade (@ramencupstm) (Chapters 45-46)

The Chain- Fleetwood Mac (Chapter 49)

#this has been sitting in my drafts for 2 years #might as well post it already #storm and silence #silence is golden #silence breaking #knowledgeispoweristimeismoney #stuffartsy

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justthatamount · 4 years ago

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Hey its me again! I need to vent but I can’t do it anywhere else!

tw; Fighting, talk about mental illness in a bad light, threatening, panic attacks, talk of mental hospitals, talk of dead naming and misgendering. cursing

Ok so I don’t remember everything about last night because someone else probably had to take over. Anyway so last night a friend of mine who we’ll call Joe cus why not? Anyway he was reaching out for support through crisis lines and stuff and our other friend Mist was helping him build up the confidence before to text someone. I joined the call and started helping as well. We then started trying to find a way to get him to a crisis center. My first thought was “Oh! my brother can probably help!” So I went and asked my brother after telling him how long it would take he turned it down. So while they where on call with a crisis line I went and asked my mom if she could help us get Joe there. She got really pissed at me and told me it was illegal and there was nothing she could do. Which was a lie because we originally told the lady on the crisis line I would be getting him there and she knew about the home situation. Beyond that in the state I live in you have to be 12 to consent to your own mental health treatment. He is older than 12 so his parents didn’t need to know. I spent roughly 5 minutes trying to convince my mom ignoring the building panic attack because of how they where talking to me. This was for a really good friend of mine I wasn’t about to back down. She told me I needed to call 911 which I refused he was on a crisis line I wasn’t about to make him do something until he was ready we where working with him not against him.

Anyway my mom told me to go downstairs and try and convince my dad so I did. Still ignoring the building panic attack at being yelled at. I couldn’t convince my dad and now I had two people very pissed at me. They equated it to kidnapping (it was not) and that if anything happened to him while he was in our car we’d be blamed. Which makes sense but he may be a danger to himself but we weren’t calling a safe to tell on him either. He was a part of this he wouldn’t do that. Eventually I accepted they weren’t going to help and headed upstairs to sort this out and let myself have a panic attack. Then they decided to follow me (breaking all the things the mental hospital told them not to do along the way) saw me having a panic attack and blamed it on him. They started interrogating me on how I knew Joe and so I told them he was introduced to me by my friend Mist and we are all really close.

My parents though took that as. Someone you barely know asked you to drive him to a crisis center even though hes really far away. Plus a friend from the mental hospital introduced me to someone mentally unstable? Then she insinuated mentally unstable people shouldn’t have friends. Telling me I was having this panic attack not because of them screaming at me but because my friend was being to taxing. Which was wrong I told them so but they refused to believe me because I wasn’t scared at all I was proud. I understand how terrifying getting help can be and I was happy to help him through it. Anyway I told them to leave me alone because they clearly wouldn’t help and they didn’t understand at all. My friend never asked me he needed help getting there and Mist and their family was all sick so they couldn’t do it so I offered to see what I could do. This wasn’t emotionally taxing at all until they started yelling at me.

Anyway sometime into my panic attack I was explaining what was going on to my friend. So he knew I wouldn’t be able to help as much. He understood and was really worried (because they knew we’re a system and this was my parents I could be in danger) anyway they then forced me to hang up. While I was trying to convince them my friends wheren’t bad people. Skylar was close to front and really pissed because these where his friends too. So we where getting really upset and then my mom looks at us and goes “do we need to send you back to the mental hospital?” I was like NO! I don’t need to go back! Skylar was baffled too. See I’ve been clean for 2 days which doesn’t sound like much but for us because we’re a system it’s hard to get everyone to stay clean. Our goal is 4 days right now and we’re proud of being halfway there. We don’t need to go back because we’re not at our worst point which is when you need to be there!

Anyway they forced us to hang up and go to sleep. I did as was told and they took my phone (Im on my computer right now) So then still having a panic attack I started trying to get to sleep. Venting into the air to help calm myself down. Skylar managed to take over for a few minutes and halt the panic attack before I took back over. Then my mom opened the door hearing me calm down and said “give me his adress I’m going to call the police because I feel like you aren’t telling me everything you’re still panicking therfore youre lying.” Yeah no shit sherlock it takes a bit to calm down from a panic attack what did you think? I was being completely honest because I wanted my friend to get help. Anyway Skylar started yelling at her and she told us we obviously don’t care about him if we won’t let her do this. My dad came upstairs again and asked what was going on (my mom played the victim card) and I was pissed. They both left and I spent the next hour trying not to relapse because they took all my healthy coping skills (which where on my phone like, reading fanfic, talking to my friends, music) with them so I was only left with the unhealthy ones. The only reason I didn’t is because my friends are so supportive and do so much and are healing I took that as encouragement to keep safe. By the way they misgendered and deadnamed me that entire time.

#TW panic attacks #tw cursing #tw cussing #tw fighting #tw mental hospital #tw threats #tw misgendering #tw deadnaming

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seizethecarpe · 4 years ago

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Seal Vibes || Skylar and Dave

Timing: Current Parties: @theskyeandsea @seizethecarpe Summary: After Skylar ghosts him when Dave confirms he’s a selkie, the pair run into each other

Skylar had never replied to his message about being a selkie, which had made Dave all kinds of nervous, but he wasn’t about to go chasing her like some goose. There were a whole number’a reasons why people didn’t want to talk about themselves, not all of them that nefarious. Not to mention, he couldn’t help but think of her as a nervous lost pup, from how she’d flailed in the waters, and looked all kinds of young when soaked wet. So he didn’t think too much about it, until he spotted her one day, walking in the shopping area. “Hey, SKylar,” he called, waving to catch her attention, considering how little she’d been able to hear before.

After her encounter with Jared at the lake a week ago, Skylar was feeling… better. Not about the situation-- she was decidedly not okay with someone else finding out about her selkie nature, much less seeing her like that. But, at least her symptoms had disappeared for the time being. The vials of Bliss remained hidden in her desk and after what she’d seen in the mirror at the carnival, she was hesitant to reach for them again. But, for the time being, she didn’t need them. The days immediately after shifting, she always felt better. Which is why she was out and about, enjoying the warm summer breeze as she walked around the downtown shopping area. She wasn’t looking for anything in particular, just window shopping, really. As she looked at one of the stranger knicknack shops, she heard her name called out and glanced up. The color drained from her face as she saw that it was the man who’d rescued her from the sudden flood-- Dave. The selkie. Letting out a squeak of shock, Skylar froze in panic. Oh no. Mmmmmmmm, Nope, no, no, no. This wasn’t good.

Dave didn’t realise until he got up close why she wasn’t moving, Instead of waiting for him to meet up with her, her eyes were wide with shock, and he didn’t need to be able to see well to know that she was trembling. He slowed his gait and came to a stop a few feet away from her. Maybe she thought he was some kinda threat to her. Maybe she’d had a bad run in with a selkie in the past, maybe she didn’t know as much as it’d seemed. All bad options, and he didn’t want to frighten her further. He pulled his hands out of his pockets, looking all friendly like, as much as a six foot guy with deep scars all over him could. “You alright?” He signed. “Look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

Skylar’s hands twitched at her sides, nervously fingerspelling letters too quickly for anyone to catch. As he walked up, she was able to get a better look at the man-- she had been too startled and shaken by nearly drowning to notice just how… scarred he looked. His face was a spider web of scars and it only made her wonder just what had happened to him. Had some monster gotten a hold of him? Reminded of the scar that stretched across the back of her calf, she wondered if a hunter had done that. Barely catching his sign, Skylar shifted uneasily from foot to foot. “I’m okay, I didn’t expect to see you here.” She signed back at him, unsure of what else to say. She’d left him on read weeks ago, too stunned and shaken by his revelation to say anything more. “You-- Are-- Is everything--” Her fingers stutter started through the words, her mind too taken off guard to form a solid sentence. There was so much she wanted to ask. But on the other hand, did she really want to hear the answers? Did she really want to open up that particular can of worms? Swallowing, she nodded. “Thank you, for saving me the other week. I know I said that already, but really. Thank you.”

“I didn’t mean to frighten you,” Dave signed back, stepping to the side so they weren’t clogging the middle of the street quite so badly. He couldn’t stand when people did that. All the while, he watched the pallor of her face, as she stopped and started mid signs, unable to pick a thought to go with. Like a damn deer in the headlights. “Like I said, it wasn’t no thing. You don’t gotta keep thanking me.” With a deep sigh, Dave looked around, spotting a small cafe with a cute icecream mascot standing by the window. “Can I get ya a coffee, or something?” Dave signed eventually. He wanted to talk, and understand what she was. Not to mention, he wanted to know why she was so damn frightened of him.

Noticing the way he shifted out of the way, Skylar did the same, moving so that they weren’t just standing in the path of others. Again, Dave brushed off her thanks and she couldn’t help but compare him to Nic. Wasn’t that how they’d met? With Nic saving her life, pulling her out of the way of danger? And a wonderful friendship had formed from that initial encounter. But… Dave was different. He was a selkie, like Ricky, like her. And as reassuring as it was to know that there were others, she couldn’t help the fear that came with it. If he found out what she was, what would he do? Glancing over at the cafe he pointed at, Skylar blinked. Coffee. Mmmmm. She really didn’t want anything to do with him, but she couldn’t really see a way out of this. “I-- sure. Coffee would be great. But, please, I’ll buy.” She signed with a nod.

Dave had no idea she didn’t want to sit down with him, wary as she looked. He wouldn’t have pressed had she said no. He nodded at her offer to buy, and walked with her to the cafe, hands in his pockets until the moment they sat down. “I’ll actually do a green tea. Not a caffeine kinda guy.” He told her with his hands, setting them on the table and clasping them as the waiter came to take their order. He bit down on his teeth covers in the meantime, trying to put them more properly into place. It was a losing battle, but he did it all the time. “Why’re you nervous around me?” He asked, after a long moment.

“Um, black coffee for me, thanks.” Skylar said to the waiter, with a polite smile before waiting for him to walk away. Unlike other places in White Crest, the small cafe wasn’t too busy right now. A few other people were seated in the booths and tables around them, but most were too busy listening to music or working on their laptops to pay them any attention. For a while, they sat in silence, with Skylar squirming slightly in her seat, fingers anxiously drumming against her leg. But then, Dave broke the silence. At his words, Skylar winced. It was that obvious? Swallowing, Skylar offered an off-hand shrug. “I just… I don’t--” She tried to bluster, but the lies wouldn’t come. She wasn’t very good at this sort of thing, of outrightly lying and hiding the truth. “I haven’t met many other people like me before. Only one other and that didn’t really work out.” She said, staring down at her hands as she spoke.

She was a squirmer. Just like Dave’s youngest. Never comfortable in the absence of conversation, whether it was spoken or signed. So nervous it could spread through the room like a virus, making others uncomfortable too. Not him, though, Dave had lived enough decades that not much rattled him. Finally, she answered, and he raised his eyes. “Sorry to heart it. What do you mean, like you. How do you-” Dave spat out his tea, coughing so hard he needed to his his own chest to get all the tea that had gone down the wrong way out. She was yanking his chain, she had to be. “You gotta be kidding me. You’re a seal that can’t swim?”

Playing with the mug in front of her, Skylar forced herself to raise her eyes, to watch him speak. She knew that it was a pet peeve of hers when people didn’t look at her when they spoke, it wasn’t fair for her to do the same to him. But, when she saw him sputter and cough in shock, she immediately wished she hadn’t. Shrinking slightly in her seat, Skylar felt her cheeks burn a bright red. “I-- I can kind of swim. Just not well.” She said, defensively. Shiloh had taught her a lot, had helped her get better at it. But, the flood had come out of nowhere and her waterlogged clothes had made keeping her head above water difficult. “I never learned how to when I was younger.” She admitted.

Dave stared at her for a long second, disbelievingly. His hands were on the table so he could feel through the wood the nervous race to her pulse. She was frightened. If she was lyin, she was better at it than he was. “Sorry. I just-” She should have been strong and fast enough that the waterlogged clothes weren’t a problem, that the current wasn’t too tiring. They were made for the riptides and the rough storms. “Never seen anything like it. Guessing you weren’t raised by other selkies then.”

“It’s okay, you don’t need to apologize.” Skylar said with a shrug before taking a sip from her coffee mug. The bitter taste was a nice distraction from the conversation, even if she knew that it had to continue. There wasn’t any real way that she could get out of this now, not when she’d told him what she was. Setting down the mug, she shook her head. “No, I wasn’t.” She fidgeted with the ceramic handle for a moment, not wanting to say anything about her family. He didn’t need to know about her parents, what they’d done to her… how they’d raised her. “I only figured out what I was earlier this year.”

Dave nodded, watching her intently to show he was listening. He’d already shown his surprise, and it had only made her shrivel up. As concerned as he was, and he was concerned as hell, he didn’t want to make her feel worse. Even though, hell, he couldn’t even begin to wrap his head around it. Land stranded seal. How the hell wasn’t she dead? Someone must’a known something, or she’d have to be dead. Which made him think of the kinda shit he didn’t want to. Dave set his tea down, pushing away those particular grieving thoughts, to focus on her. “Sounds rough, kid.”

“It’s okay.” Skylar said quickly, even though there wasn’t anything okay about her situation. She’d grown up in the dark about what she was, had learned that her parents had… had kept the truth from her for her entire life, and had been completely cut off from her family as a result of it all. None of this was okay. But, Dave really didn’t need to know about that. Clearing her throat, she looked at the man carefully, “Do you-- Um… I’m guessing you’ve lived around other selkies?” She asked. Did he have a clan like Ricky did? A family who’d moved here with him?

“Is it?” Dave asked simply, cocking his head back slightly, looking back at her with hooded eyes. His shoulder were slack, his hands clasped in front of him. It didn’t sound too alright for him, and all he wanted was to ask where her pelt was in all this. It just wasn’t his business, same as his wasn’t her business. But god, did his heart fucking ache in a familiar way when he looked at her there. “Yeah. Been alone for a while, though.”

“I...” Skylar faltered, caught off guard by his blunt words and level gaze. “Maybe it wasn’t okay. But-- but there’s not really anything that can be done now.” She swallowed, shaking her head. What her parents had done to her, it hadn’t been good. But she didn’t want to think about that, didn’t want to think about what it meant. “Oh? Um, I’m sorry.” She couldn’t help but feel sorry for the man. She didn’t know the circumstances of why he was alone, but a part of her wondered if it had anything to do with the scars that stretched across his face. She wondered if he felt lonely in the same way she did, kept apart from anyone who could understand what she was going through. “Well, I’m not exactly… good at being a selkie. But, you don’t need to be alone-- if you don’t want to be.” Skylar said offering a timid smile.

“No, guess not,” Dave agreed, humming to himself. “Don’t be sorry. Not your problem.” The corner of his lip turned up at her offer, and he turned his gaze to the table for a moment, his calloused fingers tracing over the rough grain. Divet, rise, divet, swirl. A dent where someone had dropped a fork or something. She wasn’t the first one to have made the offer, not in the last twenty years. Selkies were like that - family was important as hell, and everyone had space in their pod. Especially for someone like him. Thing was, as Dave had learned over and over, every time someone had made that offer, was that he didn’t have space in him for a new pod. He didn’t have space in him for any kinda family. There were nights he was still angry in went into the water just to slaughter whatever creatures he could find. Not to sound like a goddamn cliche, but there was a darkness in him, and it weren’t fair to let anyone near it. “You’re sweet, kid. Skylar. You don’t gotta worry about some old codger like me.” He huffed around his smile, finishing his tea.

“Mm, maybe not. But… being alone is awful. It’s not easy.” Skylar said quietly as she looked down at her mug of coffee, staring into the dark liquid. She’d been alone her entire life, she’d only realized it recently, but, maybe she’d always known that. On some level, she’d always felt as though she was on the outside looking in. Even if she didn’t know the specifics behind it. But, even among her family, she’d still never been quite the same. Her mother, her brother, neither one of them treated her quite the same as they did her sister. Taking a long sip from her coffee, Skylar matched his smile. “I know, but still. I don’t think being alone is something that gets easier with age.” She shrugged.

“Hey, I ain’t that alone. Did just move here, but I ain’t hard of company,” Dave replied, leaning back and crossing his arms. Despite all that, his grouchiness carried a smile, playing at the corner of his lips. Without his tooth glamorous, he’d be snagging his lips on his canines. Maybe she was looking for some sorta family of her own, or something to hold on to. Dave didn’t know he had that to offer her. But then maybe she wasn’t looking for that at all. Just someone to talk with. “Sides, sometimes the better company by far are the local harbour seals, you know.”

“That’s good, at least. It took me awhile before I started to actually meet people, but the people here, they’re really kind.” Skylar nodded, thinking back to all the people she’d met. Remmy, Morgan, Winston, Nic… And even the new people she’d met, who’d stumbled upon her secret, they were still good people, who understood why she needed to keep what she was underwraps. Looking up at him, she saw his lip catch on his teeth, saw the flash of sharpness. Skylar averted her eyes immediately, knowing how much she hated when people stared at her own teeth. Not for the first time, she was grateful for her veneers and the security they provided her. “The local seals? I’ve never actually met any.” She said, not wanting to admit that she’d never willingly swam in the ocean. Just the one night when she’d been forced to flee down the river, leaving a trail of blood behind her.

“I’ve been seeing that. Strong sense o’ community here, which isn’t true for all small towns, however much they try. Guessin’ it’s to do with all the-” Dave signed the rest of his sentence. “Supernatural folks around town.” He cocked his head with an easy smile, keeping up signing if only because it was habit, and it was real nice to talk to someone with the signing. “Harbour seals are not conversational types, but they make good company in a haul out. Besides, at the moment they got lotsa young ones. You should try it some time. Only problem is the stink.” He guffawed amicably, finishing off his tea. “So, Skylar, what do you do for a living?”

As the man switched over to sign, Skylar nodded contemplatively. She hadn’t really thought of that, but… he had a point. Maybe it was because of all the different people who lived here. She’d met witches, someone who could see ghosts, a werewolf, zombies, a girl covered in scales who lived in the lake and a boy with horns who spoke for the wild creatures of the woods. Maybe they were all drawn to each other because of their differences, because they were all trying to figure things out. “Wait… Can you talk to seals?” She signed, confused. Ricky hadn’t mentioned that they could do that. The idea of little seal pups was interesting, though. She wondered how she had looked as a child, if she had looked anything like them in her seal form. “Oh-- I’m a sign language interpreter with the school. I work kids who are Deaf and Hard of Hearing.” She replied, “What about you?”

“Oh, nah!” Dave signed back with a laugh, “Well, yeah, but it ain’t like they understand me, and I don’t understand them. It’s more like a sorta kinship. Jus’ seals vibing. Besides, my sort of seal doesn’t normally live in these parts and so they don’t know to be afraid of me.” Naturally, normal leopard seals would eat seal pups, but that just didn’t sit right with Dave. He had plenty to eat in the waters here, so why would he need to? “Neat! Bet that’s real fulfilling work. Me? I take up contracts for monsters in the local waters, find people’s treasure or lost iphone’s, that sorta thing.”

Seals vibing. That was a sentence Skylar had never expected to hear in her life, but she supposed that was just White Crest for you. Nothing ever went as she expected, nothing was ever easy or normal. So, vibing with seals? Sure. That might as well be a thing that happened. “Your kind of seal? I didn’t realize people could be different kinds.” She said, not sure how to voice her confusion. She’d never really done much research into what kind of seal she turned into-- she hated looking at herself in her form. Seeing her soul in the body of an animal, it made her incredibly uncomfortable. She wasn’t like that. She couldn’t be like that. Tilting her head at him in surprise, Skylar’s eyebrows raised. “That’s cool.” He really couldn’t be more different from her, could he? He was so imbedded in life as a selkie and she just… wasn’t.

“Yeah. There’s many sorts you can be,” Dave replied, pulling out his phone to google leopard seals, and showed her the first page of search results. “Ain’t too sure how fate decides what you’ll be, but I’m a leopard seal, even though no one in my family’s been to the Antarctic. Fast and muscled, see?” Did she really not know? He pursed his lips in displeasure, although it wasn’t at her. “Yeah, it’s pretty neat. Truth be told, I’m getting kinda old for it.”

Blinking at the image he showed her, Skylar stared at his phone. He looked nothing like how she did in her seal form. She was rounder, less sleek, more squish to her. And more spots. Almost like freckles, her pelt was dotted with dark spots. Was that why she was so freckly? Because of her pelt? Or was her skin spotted because of her freckles? Either way, the concept bothered her. “That’s cool.” She said before nodding. “That makes sense. It sounds like it would be a hard job. If, um, if you’re ever interested in interpreting work, you should let me know. It’s just me and another woman with the school district and I know Eileen is hoping to retire in the next few years.” Skylar offered.

“I got a criminal record. ‘Sides, I ain’t all that great with kids, they find me scary,” Dave smiled in a mild-mannered way, gesturing to his face. “Thanks all the same,” No school’d look at him once they knew all that. Assault, theft, burglary. Evidence of a violent disposition, and when he was younger (but still not all that young) a propensity for taking what he wanted when he thought he needed it. As for working with kids… well, he hadn’t done much’a that since he’d lost his own. No thanks.

Skylar did her best to hide her shock at his easy admission to his criminal record. She didn’t want to make any kind of assumption, not based off how he looked. Maybe he’d just been in the wrong place at the wrong time? Found himself on the wrong side of the law? She nodded instead of speaking, lifting her mug to her lips to sip from her now lukewarm coffee. Just as she was about to ask Dave another question, one of the many swirling around in her mind, her phone buzzed in her pocket. “Sorry--” She glanced down at the screen and blanched. Oh no, she’d completely forgotten she had a tutoring appointment scheduled-- she had to get all the way over to the library. “I’m so sorry, I have a tutoring lesson I need to get to. But, um… I’ll be in touch?” She asked tentatively as she rose from the table.

Skylar did not succeed in hiding her shock. Dave huffed out a small laugh, letting her sip at her tea until she regained her composure. She looked like she was about to say something when she glanced down to her pocket. He didn’t see her phone, but he recognised that panicked look when someone’d forgotten something. “No worries. Kinda caught you by surprise. You got my number, so looking forward to hearin’ from you.” He dipped his head in goodbye, ad watched her leave. Jesus. A selkie that could barely swim. That was a new one.

#para #skylar #wickedswriting #chatzy

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