#talking to a grave

[faofinn]

No. 31 "I thought that I was getting better."

Emptiness | Setbacks | "Take it easy."

Fao had had a good day. He’d gone out for coffee, actually feeling relatively human. His pain had been decently controlled, his meds working for once, and his head had been less of a dick than usual. He’d met Steve, and they’d chatted about work, about getting Fao back into it. It had been nice, to feel that spark again, knowing he was good, he was wanted, the possibility of working again was something to keep him going. Because he’d felt good, he’d done loads. After coffee with Steve he’d gone shopping, bought himself some new clothes, stuff that had caught his eye, something to wear when he was a bit more on his feet, even a new suit that he was determined he was going to wear to an interview. 

He’d been tired but okay when he got home, and after a nap had still felt decent. He’d helped Fred cook, even managed to laugh at his jokes and generally enjoy himself a bit, after everything he’d had to deal with. He’d gone to bed that night tired but content, feeling like he was finally getting somewhere. 

And then he woke up the next morning nauseous and in agony. It was like a huge ‘fuck you’ to just how good he’d been feeling the day before. He rolled half onto his side, burying his face in his pillows, and didn’t move. He didn’t want to move, he just wanted everything to stop. He’d been finally getting somewhere, finally feeling like his old self, and now there was just nothing. The spark he’d felt the day before had gone, leaving him feeling empty and hollow, and suddenly it was like everything he’d been working towards had been for nothing. He wanted a smoke, but even that wasn’t enough to get him out of bed, so he resigned himself to being miserable about that too, the tension headache irritating above all else. He went to take his meds, but the cup by his bed was empty, and he ended up with the bitter taste of his tablets on his tongue and no way to actually take them, which just made the nausea worse and offered no relief for the pain. 

The way he’d retched had got him out of bed quick enough, crutches forgotten as he rushed to the bathroom. On his knees in front of the toilet he lost what little he’d eaten, as well as the damn tablet. Rinsing his mouth out didn’t help, he could still taste the horrible bitter meds on his tongue, and he felt just as sick every time he swallowed. Getting to his feet had gone just as badly, and he’d nearly fallen over when he’d stood to the sink, having to grip it hard just to stay upright. 

He just about made it back to his room, gripping the wall to keep his balance, and forced himself to get dressed. He called a cab, told Sheila he was going out, and then headed to the cemetery where Alex was buried. She was the only one he wanted to talk to. He loved his family, but they fussed too much, and he didn’t want to upset them. The pain was awful, but he’d given up on the idea of taking anything for it. 

He paid the taxi, got out and limped through the neat rows of graves until he reached Alex’s. There were some flowers there, likely left by her brother, but Fao didn’t have anything to leave. He did, however, have a pack of smokes in his pocket, and he lit one to rest on her headstone before he lit one for himself, and awkwardly settled on the floor, taking a long drag.

“I really thought I was getting better, ‘Lex.” He said after what felt like an eternity. “I had such a good day yesterday, thought like I was really getting somewhere, going places. Like getting a job wasn’t a stupid idea, like I could be myself again. Now look at me. I’m in agony, can’t even take my stupid painkillers, can’t do anything right. Maybe it’s just a setback but it feels like more. It feels like every time I do anything good I’m doomed to fail, doomed to suffer. It’s not fucking fair. I know recovery isn’t linear, that some days are gonna be good and some are gonna be bad, but this feels like such a fucking kick in the teeth, to have had such a good day followed by such a shit one. What am I supposed to do? How am I supposed to keep going? It fucking sucks.”

[yuyonyu]

“What happened to arresting me, detective?!

I thought you were gonna show me the light…!”

[s0fter-sin]

thinking about the way ghost doesn't hesitate to start killing shadows when graves betrays them but soap only takes one hostage

you can almost hear the voice in his head telling him it doesn't have to be this way; they can still talk it out

"i'm calling shepherd"

his first instinct when confronted with betrayal is to play it by the books: to go up the chain. that goes against everything we've seen him do. he bucks authority at every chance except for the one time he's confronted with the barrels of his allies' guns

he wants a peaceful resolution; for the first time we've ever seen, he doesn't want violence to be the answer. there has to be another fix, a solution that doesn't end with him killing the same men he's been working with; his friends

nothing's happened yet

it doesn't have to go this way

but ghost has been betrayed before. he knows the way this ends; either with him six feet under or his enemy

he doesn't hesitate

it's only when they knock alejandro out that soap shoots; when they spill the first blood and cross a line they can never come back from

only when ghost orders him to run and he has to cover his retreat

and somewhere along the line, between civilians’ screams and taunting voices, between his shaking breath and ghost steady in his ear, that naivety is stripped away; his trust turned to teeth that he uses to sink into throats of men he'd have given his life for

"be careful who you trust, sergeant; people you know can hurt you the most"

he's learned the price of trust

just like ghost did

but unlike ghost, he has someone to guide him through the aftermath

"good advice, It"

[graves4girls]

i NEED to bite him please and thank you

dofp logan has my heart and soul

[shigayokagayama]

happy one year anniversary to the most insane week in internet history

[poorly-drawn-mdzs]

I *need* to get pregnant by him.

[First] Prev <–-> Next

[kenchann]

dude thats my ghost boyfriend 🎃⚡

[bruciemilf]

Headcanon that, every year on their birthday, Kryptonians get new superpowers.

Clark doesn’t really keep track; That’s Bruce’s job, for the most part. This year? Mediumship.

me·​di·​um·​ship

/the capacity, function, or profession of a spiritualistic medium/

“Communication with spirits,” Bruce has this habit of nicking his thumb with his teeth, pretty, hazel eyes glossy with thought. Clark doesn’t need supervision to see how beautiful he is when his mind’s at work. “Fascinating.”

“Yep,”

Clark watches Thomas Wayne’s ghost give him the glare of the century behind his son’s back.

The skin of his jawline is entirely ripped off, peeled by Joe Chill’s gun, like the news article said. Sincerely, the Wayne glare scares Clark more.

“Fascinating.”

[leave-her-a-tome]

[bread-that-draws]

Flowey’s so funny and has me so fucked up like he’s a talking flower. He tries to kill you upon your first interaction. He is ten years old. He is damaged beyond repair. He’s a flower named Flowey. He’s become friends with every single character. He’s killed all of them countless times. He knows everything about everyone. He doesn’t care anymore. He takes care of his mom when she can’t take care of herself. He’s killed her before. He doesn’t care if you kill her. He thinks she’s trying to replace him. He just wants to be himself again. He wants to destroy everything. He hates you. You’re the only one who understands him. He wants his best friend back. He’s terrified of them. He believes in kill or be killed because he died by giving mercy to the wrong person. He believes himself to be the wrong person. He doesn’t understand when you show him that kindness he showed others, even when you know he could kill you for it. He’s tried every route. He asks you if you have anything better to do when you try to do the same. He’s a direct reflection of the player. He’s a fucking talking flower named flowey and his only voice line is by Ronald McDonald and his officially licensed plush does a little dance for you

[54625]

"Have you no more memories?"

I am made of memories.

"Speak, then."

[mikakuna]

imagine being so insensitive that you would blame a child for their death and openly talk about how badly behaved they were right in front of their grave. oh and on said child's birthday-- the day he would've turned 18 years old. you spend your first official late child's 18th birthday calling him brash and impulsive, implying he got himself murdered, instead of mourning the fact that today is the day your dead son would've reached a major milestone in his life.

[deadsetobsessions]

This is based off of that one tiktok from @sorruna where it’s the audio from Spider-Man: Into the Spider-verse.

——

Dick Grayson was a sneaky, intelligent little shit.

He was also dumb. These things are not mutually exclusive.

To this day, one of his best kept secrets- one of the many, many that he had now- was something he’d take to his grave.

Or to Jason’s grave, at least.

Dick sat down and began telling the story to ears that would never truly hear it.

——

Batman’s voice rumbled behind him as Dick, in his Robin suit, stood blankly on top of a roof.

“I know you snuck out last night, Robin.”

Dick froze, train of thought about his dinner derailed. Holy busted, Batman! Quick! Play dumb!

“Who’s Robin?” He asked, the years of performing in front of a large crowd coming to save his ass.

Not that dumb!

Batman sent him a dry look, reprimand already poised on his lips. Dick, however, was nothing but a good performer. Nay, a dedicated performer.

Quick! Do something out of character! He shouted at himself, panicking visibly. He stepped backwards, an idea appearing in his head. In his defense, it sounded like an amazing idea at the time. He had no idea it would blow up into a Justice League issue. If he had known… Dick would have lied better, probably. There was no way he was going to let B bench him for weeks!

“Who the fuck are you?!” He yelped. Dick apologized mentally to Alfred and his parents. Batman paused, stunned.

“That’s my question. Who are you?!” Bruce asked, immediately hostile. His son doesn’t curse. Well, not in any normal way anyways. Dick quickly backpedaled by yelling at him with a heavy Vlax dialect, missing his parents terribly as he screamed stranger danger in rudimentary Romany. After this, he was going to have to convince Bruce to get him a language tutor. He refused to forget one of the only ties he had left to his parents.

“Wait, wait- you’re my son.” Bruce replied back, in perfect Romany. He looked more convinced but still skeptical.

“My dad is a circus performer! Not a flying rat!” Dick screeched back. He couldn’t help but feel touched about Bruce seeing him like a son.

“Oy! Keep it down out there, you assholes! Some of us like our sleep, damn!” A random Gothamite screamed out of their window.

“Yo, shut the fuck up! The vigilantes are helping to keep the rent low, motherfucker!” Another Gothamite shouted back.

….

Needless to say, Bruce quickly brought Dick back to the cave- with precautions to make sure he didn’t figure out where the Cave was if Dick was actually someone else.

——

“You would have loved it, Little Wing. B was running around like a headless chicken. The memory loss protocol was actually made because of me, you know.” Dick chuckled, sniffling as he talked to the carved gravestone.

It did not reply.

——

The blood tests came back. Yeppers, Dick sarcastically thought, who woulda thought I’m me?

Reinforcements were called in.

Meaning, Batgirl.

“Watch him while I contact Justice League Dark.”

“You think it’s magic?” Barbara asked.

“Yes. There was no one else near our vicinity that could affect Dick like this. He has no head wounds.”

“Eesh. Okay, go. I’ll watch him.”

Bruce disappeared in his zeta tube, looking harried. So, to everyone that’s not a Bat, he looked absolutely terrifying.

“What did you get yourself into now, Boy Wonder?” Barbara sighed. Dick was careful to keep any signs of recognition out of his face.

“Stop calling me that! Where are my parents?!” He asked back. Barbara coughed and looked uncomfortably away.

That’s right, Babs. I’m pulling out the orphan card. Feel bad. Dick hid his feral grin.

“They’re… uh, busy.” Busy being dead, Barbara thought, immediately wincing at her own thoughts. Apparently, Dick thought the excuse was lame too, and he sent her an incredulous look.

“Would you like refreshments, Master Dick?”

“What?”

Alfred held out some cookies on a platter, giving Babs a quelling look as she tried to reach for his share.

“Oh, wow, these are really good!” Dick said as he shoveled cookies into his mouth. He tried to replicate the reaction he had when he tried these for the first time, and from Alfred’s satisfied look, Dick nailed it.

——

“Robin doesn’t remember who he is.” Batman rumbled as he all but dragged Zatanna and Constantine by the scuff of their jackets towards the zeta tubes.

“Hey, wait-”

“We have no time.” Batman snarled, tossing the two magic users into the zeta. He punched in the destination.

When they got there, he glared at the two magic users until they got into the cave.

“Damn, Bats. Really living up to your name, huh?”

“Not bad,” Zatanna said as she looked around.

“Robin,” Batman- Bruce- reminded them. He did a quick glance over to check on his kids, and found them satisfactorily uninjured. Though, Barbara was looking worse for wear. Bruce quickly found out why as she stalked to him.

“You deal with him.” She muttered. “I’m going home.”

Bruce blinked and nodded. “Get home safe.”

Zatanna and Constantine followed Batman as he walked towards Robin. It was odd to see the normally laughing child frown.

“It’s you! The kidnapper! Where are my parents?!”

Bruce winced which, for him, was akin to a full body flinch and recoil. No wonder Barbara was so tired.

“Fix it.”

“Don’t get your knickers in a twist, Batsy.” Constantine grumbled.

“Well help, Batman. Though… I’m not sure if he should be doing that.”

Bruce sharply turned his head back to where Dick was. Emphasis on was. Because now, he’s halfway up the giant dinosaur the Robin had insisted they keep.

“Robin, get down from there!”

“Stranger Danger!” Dick hollered back.

Batman- Bruce Wayne- sighed.

“That’s high level magic,” Zatanna hummed. “I can’t feel anything, but I know for sure that he won’t die. Magic like that either dissipates naturally or…”

“Lasts forever,” Constantine finished.

Bruce groaned, shooting off a grappling line and swooping upwards to catch Dick as he fell from the giant dinosaur.

——

“I pretended to get my memories back later,” Dick chuckled. “And pretended to forget the whole thing. Bruce was so relieved that I stopped knocking things over and trying to do cartwheels in high places that he totally forgot I snuck out.”

Dick patted the headstone.

“But between you and me? I’m pretty sure Alfred knew. I think B pissed him off that week.”

[bet-on-me-13]

Danny the Grave Keeper

So, it starred as a Tiktok Video that showed this Thread, which I tried to find the original link to.

It took me half an hour to finally find the actual Thread, but here it is.

Basically, Danny is a Grave Keeper who works at Gotham Cemetary, and he loves to Gossip with the other Ghosts.

I imagine Alfred is a good friend of his, since he makes regular visits to the Wayne's Graves so he can pay his respects and apologize for not being there, and to update them on how their son is doing.

Danny loves to hang out with the Ghosts at night. I imagine he has a good relationship with Jason Todd when be dies, and is frantic when he realizes that one day his Grave is suddenly Empty.

I just thought I would share this.

[vampire-void]

Take This To Your Grave poster concept

[ars-ceratinus]

How Much Longer (2024), Oil on Canvas - 3ft x 4ft