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luxaofhesperides · 11 months ago

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Final hour Ghostlights request! Soulmate AU where when your soul mate dies your soul mark expands. Duke was really heartbroken at first but now his soul mark makes it really difficult to keep his secret identity hidden because he is covered in a map of the cosmos. He has to use his shadow powers almost constantly to keep all the stars hidden! And and maybe they light up like actual stars when he uses his light powers.

He meets Danny at orientation or something at GU and they brush against each other and he just lights up like a supernova, all his stars literally blazing and he's just like "YOU!" Both excited and also OH MY GOD YOU ASSHOLE.

....I rambled a bit here I'm so sorry.

The thing about soulmates is that you don’t really know who they are until they die. And even then, most people never know who their soulmate was, only that they outlived them.

Duke became one of those people when he was thirteen.

He didn’t even notice until he went to change and saw the watercolor swirl of nebula spill out from over his heart.

One moment, he was tired and angry, ready to sneak out of his latest foster home to search for his parents and do all the things adults have failed to do. The next, he’s collapsed on his knees, shaking, unable to breathe as he tries to rip his soulmark off of his skin. He couldn’t think past the shock and horror of realizing that his soulmate is dead and Duke didn’t even know until that moment.

They’ll never get to meet.

Duke had never felt so alone before.

He spent the next few days in shock, his mind a mess of static, unable to focus. He hid away in his room, buried under the covers, and his foster parents were understanding when he whispered my soulmate’s dead. They called him out of school and brought him food and water throughout the day, gentle encouraging him to eat something every few hours.

But disaster waits for no one, and Batman was gone, so Duke pulled himself out of his misery and hit the streets again.

So his soulmate’s dead. So his parents are gone. So Gotham’s falling apart.

No one’s doing anything about it, so it’s up to Duke to start fixing things. It’s not like he had much to lose.

Soulmates become a bit of a taboo topic to him, after that. He speaks of them to no one, avoids all conversation about them, refuses to stay when people talk about soulmarks. He tries not to look at his soulmark at all.

And then he takes a hit to the chest and patches himself up with shaking hands. For the first time in months he looks at his soulmark again and…

Did it… grow?

Duke prods it gently, letting out a hiss when his bruised ribs protest at the movement. He remembers the mark being right over his heart.

But looking at it now, it branches out, swirls of galaxy and constellations reaching out along his ribcage.

Panicked, Duke grabs for his computer and looks up soulmark growth and webmd soulmark abnormalities.

Neither give him any answers, though WebMD helpfully suggests skin cancer.

“I’m gonna ignore this,” Duke decides, and pulls on a shirt and goes to sleep. The less he thinks about his dead soulmate, the better.

Time passes and Duke goes from being a Robin to being the Signal, a legitimate vigilante working with Batman. It’s nice to see Gotham start to settle, things falling into place. For once, nothing is awful; Duke’s found his parents and doctors are looking for a cure for long-term exposure to Joker Gas, Batman’s taking care of Gotham with a number of other Bats, Duke is getting used to his powers and slowly making a good name for himself out on the streets.

He keeps his focus on protecting people and getting stronger, helping solve cases with the other Bats. No one mentions soulmates, so he keeps his ever expanding soulmark a secret.

The only problem is that it keeps growing and Duke is concerned that it’ll move to a place he can’t easily hide under his clothes.

And he does need to hide them. The more his soulmark has grown, the more obvious it is, especially when he uses his powers and the stars on his skin light up like the Fourth of July. He knows it’s abnormal, but it’s also his soulmark and he doesn’t want anyone, least of all Bruce, poking around trying to study it.

The grief still lingers when he looks at it, but Duke has long since grown used to it. If anything, these days he’s quietly annoyed by how far the galaxies on his skin spread out, forcing him to take tank tops and shorts out of his wardrobe.

There’s also the tentative hope that maybe his soulmate is immortal and keeps coming back to life after they die. And they must also have terrible luck, because they just keep on dying.

Case in point: his soulmark flares and spills out onto his shoulder and wraps around his bicep. It’s not the first time he’s seen it move, but it still startles him.

“Are you serious,” Duke mutters to himself, pulling at his sleeve to adjust it and hopefully hide his soulmark. The starts are bright against his skin, and while sometimes he likes to trace them with his finger, now is not one of those times.

As pretty as it is, his soulmark is also very obvious and will cause people to realize his identity if they ever catch a glimpse of it while he’s out as Signal.

He sighs. There’s no choice but to live out the rest of his life in hoodies and sweatshirts.

As if to spite him, his soulmark grows once more.

Did his soulmate just die twice in the span of five minutes? That’s concerning.

He wishes he could meet them just so he can shake some sense into them. Maybe tell them to stop dying since it’s stressing him out so much. Maybe stick by their side to make sure they never have to die again. He’s honestly not sure what he’d do if he ever meets his soulmate, but he has to do something. This has gotten out of hand.

At least seeing his soulmark grow doesn’t hurt as much as it did a few years ago.

Lazily, he pulls at the light around him to hide the new portions of the soulmark on his arm from sight. It takes some focus, but he can hold it up long enough for him to grab a snack from the kitchen and retreat up to his room without being questioned by anyone. He could probably even keep this shirt on for the college orientation he needs to attend later in the day if the light works well enough to keep his secrets hidden.

He’s expecting Alfred in the kitchen when he arrives, but is greeted by Dick clapping a hand on his shoulder, right where his soulmark has claimed space. Duke falters and works to keep the light from fracturing as he returns Dick’s grin.

“Hey man,” he says, “What are you doing here? I thought you were out until Friday.”

“And miss a chance to hang out with you? No way. Besides, I wanted to give you a ride to your orientation.”

“You don’t have to,” Duke starts, only for Dick to cut him off.

“I’m going to,” he says, as if it’s a threat. “It’s been too long since we get to spend time together without a mask on. Are you really going to deprive me of this?”

Duke shakes off Dick’s hand from his shoulder, walking towards the pantry to find a small snack. “I guess not. It’s going to be pretty boring for you, though. I’m just going to listen to people talk about what college is like for a few hours.”

“We could always just walk around campus afterwards. I haven’t seen it since it was rebuilt after the last time Freeze attacked it.”

“Sure, that sounds fun. Thanks for offering to drive me.” Duke pulls out a box of Poptarts hidden behind stacks of pasta boxes and pulls out a pack for himself. He opens it and isn’t at all surprised when Dick steals one right out of his hands.

“Meet me out front in an hour then.”

And with that, Dick leaves, his stolen Poptart in hand, and Duke is left to shake his head and shove the Poptart box back into its hiding place. He heads off to eat his own snack, making sure no one is in the hallway as he lets go of his hold on the light. Already he can feel a migraine building with the immense focus he had to use to make sure nothing looked out of place.

At least Dick didn’t notice anything was off. If he can fool Dick, he can fool anyone.

Still, just to be safe, Duke changes into something with longer sleeves before he leaves and hops into the car with Dick.

The drive goes quickly to the tunes of ABBA, both of them singing along as they head for the GCU campus. Parking is a bit tricky, but they manage to find a spot a street away and walk towards the student union, where tables are laid out for incoming freshmen to sign in and grab a folder filled with papers meant to help them.

He waves to Dick and heads in once he gets his folder, and grabs a seat in the auditorium that’s close to a fire exit.

It takes another twenty minutes for the presentations to start. The lights dim and Duke panics for a brief moment before drawing the shadows over himself lightly to hide the soft glow of the star etched onto his skin.

They start with introductions, bringing in advisors, professors, and student ambassadors. Most of it is basic information that Duke already knows, so he zones out and plays with some shadows at his feet, where no one can see the way he twists shadows together like some dark magic form of finger knitting.

For the next hour, Duke halfheartedly listens to people talk about preparing for classes and keeping on top of schoolwork and learning how to ask for help. He’s saved enough college students that he knows the gist of things, and the orientation really doesn’t give him anything helpful.

He probably could have skipped, but he wanted a normal college experience.

He should have known that normal means boring as hell.

As soon as the presentation ends, an advisor encourages everyone to follow the schedule tucked into their folder to give them a half day modeled after a typical student’s schedule. Of course, all the classes are nonsense just to fill up their time, made to help freshmen coming into the college by covering topics such as how to write an email and an introduction to majors and minors.

Duke already declared himself as a Human Services major, his first step into becoming a social worker like his mom was.

Also he totally knows how to write an email, what are these advisors on about? Do they really think people his age can’t write emails?

Yeah, he’s ditching. The main presentation is really the only part that matters in the orientation. He’s not walking out on anything he needs.

Duke files out after the rest of the crowd, carefully letting the shadows slip off of him once he’s outside again. Instead of finding the first ‘class’ he’s supposed to go to in the Modern Languages building, he wanders off to find a quiet place he can sit down and wait until Dick finds him.

Tucked away towards the back half of the campus is a small nook full of trees, bushes, and benches. Judging by the amount of cigarette butts left in the single trash can there, it’s a popular smoking spot.

No one’s there, so the air is clean and free of smoke, so Duke heads in, hoping to sit down.

Someone else apparently has the same idea. He hops down from one of the concrete planters that’s keeping a bush contained and nearly falls on Duke.

They both shout in surprise, then Duke is moving without thinking, reaching out to steady the startled looking guy who accidentally jumped down in front of him.

Duke only has time to take note of how blue his eyes are before his hands wrap around the guy’s wrist and Duke feels his soulmark flare with warmth.

In the shade of the trees, the glow of each star on his skin is obvious. It’s visible even through the fabric of his shirt. His soulmark, at this point in his life, stretches across his chest, his ribs, his back, and now his shoulders and upper arms. All the stars in that watercolor galaxy are shining brightly as if the night sky has been draped across his body.

Soulmarks only react like that for one reason.

“You!” Duke shouts at his soulmate, both elated to see that he’s alive and annoyed that he made Duke’s soulmark so large. “Stop dying! Do you have any idea how much stress you’ve caused me?!”

“Oh my god,” the guy says faintly, eyes fixed on Duke’s chest where his soulmark originally rested, shining brighter and bigger than any other star, as if he’s tucked a sun into his heart. “Oh my god,” he says again, with more feeling.

“I’m so happy you’re alive, but please stop dying. It’s bad for my health.”

“I think I need to sit down?”

He does look very pale and faint. Duke tightens his grip on his soulmate’s arms and guides him to a bench, gently sitting him down.

“You’re not about to die, right?” Duke asks. “I don’t think my heart could take it if meeting me killed you somehow.”

“No, no,” his soulmate manages to say, “I’m not going to die. Um. Wow. I didn’t know my soulmark would do that? Sorry.”

“Well, it’s not like you had any way of knowing. It’s all good, man. Just please stop dying.”

His soulmate winces. “Yeah, that’s not gonna be possible. Sorry. Again.”

What does that mean, though? What does it all mean?

“Can I maybe get an explanation as to why you have to die again.”

“Mmmmm no. We just met and it’s kinda personal so. No.”

“Dude.”

Duke’s soulmate shrugs helplessly. “It really is personal! I know your my soulmate and all, so I’ll probably tell you one day, but right now I don’t even know your name.”

Oh shit. He’s right. Introductions completely slipped his mind, too busy reeling over the fact that his soulmate is here and alive. Which, honestly, would be enough to throw anyone off balance.

“Shoot,” Duke says. “Sorry. You just really caught me off guard. Hi, I’m Duke, I promise I’m more put together than that.”

“Hi Duke, I’m Danny, and I’ve apparently been traumatizing you for the past few years by making you think I keep dying.”

“Well. At least we’re thrown head first into the crazy. Best way to know if we’re be a good match.”

“You sure you can handle this? You seemed pretty frazzled a second ago.”

Duke flusters and lightly whacks Danny’s shoulder. “That’s normal! Anyone would do the same when meeting their soulmate for the first time!”

“Fair enough,” Danny laughs. “This is a totally weird request and you can absolutely say no, but… can I see?” He presses a hand against one of the glowing stars beneath this collar bone, looking up at Duke with wide, hopeful blue eyes, and Duke finds it so cute that he’s willing to do anything Danny wants.

“Here,” he says as an answer, pulling the collar of his shirt down a bit to reveal the nebula spilling onto his shoulder.

“Oh,” Danny breathes, tracing a light finger against it. “It’s beautiful.”

“I’m guessing you like space?”

“Love it. I wanted to be an astronaut, but uh…. It’s never going to happen. Health problems, you know?”

“Well, I know it’s not the same, but I hope the stars you put on my body will be a good enough replacement.”

Danny cheeks turn red and he turns away, flustered. “Don’t smooth talk me right now, I’m not ready for it,” he mutters, bringing up a hand to try to hide his expression.

“Sorry, sorry,” Duke laughs, “I’ll try to keep the flirting down to a minimum. It’s just really great to finally meet you. And I’ve been wondering, what’s your soulmark look like?”

“Oh, well…” Danny fiddles with the long sleeve of his shirt. “I had a pretty bad accident years ago that kinda affected how my soulmark looks. So if it looks weird, that’s why, okay?” He takes a deep breath, then pushes up his sleeve, holding his wrist out to Duke.

The first thing Duke notices is the soft yellow glow, Signal yellow to be precise, running down his arm as if sunlight fills his veins. Then he sees Danny’s soulmark, a sun with rays that wrap around his wrist. And running through his soulmark are Lichtenberg scars, glowing yellow as if stealing the color from his soulmark.

“Guess we both got super obvious soulmarks, huh? At least we kinda match, that way.”

“That’s one way to look at it,” Danny agrees.

“Man, what a day.”

Danny looks more relaxed with him now. It’s much better than the startled, tense version of him that first sat down on the bench. Duke hopes he chooses to stay with him; he doesn’t admit this often, willingly, or to other people, but he’s a romantic at heart and has always wanted to live a happy life with his soulmate. It’s still far off in the future, but he hopes Danny feels the same way.

“So, are you ditching the orientation classes to?” Danny asks.

“Yeah, there’s no way I’m going. I mean, a class on how to send emails? They can’t be serious.”

“I know, right?! I saw that and thought I was being pranked. I mean, we’re going into college. We better know how to send an email by now.”

“Since we’re both free for now, wanna grab lunch with me? It can be our first date, if you want.”

“I’d love to! And you can show me around Gotham a bit. I’m coming here for college, but I haven’t really seen the city yet. It’d be nice to explore it with someone who knows where things are.”

“Are you free for the rest of the day? ‘Cause I wouldn’t mind showing you around, if you want.”

Danny smiles, radiant. “I am. I’m in your hands for the rest of the day.”

“Cool,” Duke says, trying not to think too much on that wording. It’s very suggestive, very flirtatious, and he’s looking forward to getting to know Danny more so he can start properly flirting. “Lemme just let my brother know to not wait up for me.”

He pulls out his phone and sends Dick a text that just reads: met my soulmate. going on a date now. i’ll see u back at the manor!

Then he puts his phone on silent and tucks it back into his pocket. He’ll tell Dick all about this later; for now, all his attention is on Danny.

Soulmates get priority, even stressful ones that give him the largest soulmark he’s ever seen.

And right now, he’s on a mission to find the best lunch spot to take his soulmate to for their first date. Everything else can come later; for now, he’s going to enjoy the time he gets to spend with Danny.

He hopes they’ve got a future together as bright as the stars in his soulmark.

Despite it all, Duke is sure they’re going to be alright.

#ghostlights #dc x dp #dp x dc #dcxdp #dpxdc #prompt fill #my writing #dannys obv not going to be able to keep his identity as phantom hidden for long in gotham #esp since he wants to protect people and transforms to do that #and one of those times will be in front of duke to protect him from some goons trying to kidnap duke for his connections to the wayne famil #duke ends up using his powers as well leading to an identity reveal on both ends #and then the dots connect and duke yells THIS IS WHY U KEEP DYING and danny has to sheepishly apologize for how large dukes soulmark is #he does kiss all the new stars that show up on dukes skin tho so hes forgiven very quickly #(not that duke was ever mad. he's just worried)#thanks for the prompt!!

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the1entirecircus · 2 months ago

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If I see someone misenterpret Batman being a billionaire that punches the mentally ill and poor one more time, I'm going to lose it.

Batman is above all else empathetic, even towards his enemies. He throws his money around like its nothing, and when it is used for something, he uses it to fund charities or useful for the public. He's as if a leftist were a billionaire. He's actually helping people as Bruce Wayne and Batman.

The mentally ill and poor people he does have to punch in the face are usually being forced to work for villains who are forcing those people to work for them. Those people are then equipped with weapons and are given orders to attack anyone who tries to harm them. They're being exploited out if their own weaknesses and desperation.

Not to mention Batman hires those people to get them out of the situation they're in. He doesn't want to keep seeing them end up working for people like Two-Face, Black Mask, or god forbid the Joker. And Wayne Industries has lots of jobs ready for anyone.

The richest person in DC Comics who people should really be crapping on is the one who hates aliens, claims to do things for the better of humanity when he isn't, and makes things worse for everyone else like destroying the cure for cancer HE MADE. That person is of course: Lex Luthor.

#tired of the misinformation being spread #batman #bruce wayne #wayne industries #wayne tech #lex luthor #dc comics #media literacy #tired from finals so I'm not spending too much time writing this #if you plan to argue ask yourself this: have I read a batman comic book?#if yes then argue away #if no shut up

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tobiasdrake · 2 months ago

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Also i think ive read somewhere that souls in the buffyverse are not the same as what people normally think of, which are called Spirits instead, and vampires do have those.

The way I recall it being explained is that when you become a vampire, you die and a demon possesses your body. A sort of vampire spirit that isn't the same thing as a human soul, nor is it the same person who previously occupied that body, though its persona is shaped by that person in some ambiguous way.

I think this was in the episode with Ford, Buffy's old friend from the movie, who thought he could save himself from cancer by becoming a vampire.

Though it's worth noting that not everything we hear about vampires in the series is even correct. In the first season, Angel also lays out that vampires are utterly incapable of human emotion.

However, not only does Spike exist, but Angel's own series features a soulless vampire so grief-stricken by the death of his vampire lover of centuries that he condemns himself to inevitable death for a shot at revenge. A vampire who loved his partner so much he would die to avenge her.

So. Like. Angel's just wrong, is what he is. He's talking about himself, projecting his own experience on vampires as a whole. He has a Joker Problem where he thinks all vampires are like Angelus but nah, that's just you, bruh.

#buffy the vampire slayer #angel the series

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apopcornkernel · 11 months ago

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batman: track and field au

author's note: i just miss track and field varsity even though i wasnt even that good... and ive been thinking about batman track and field au for FOREVER. so today i wrote a bit 📝

things u need to know: bruce is not batman. he's a coach at a school where the rest of the justice league teaches. yes, they're still the justice league. and yes, his robins still end up as vigilantes. jason is 15 in this; the joker hasn't gotten to him yet. also i added some characters ahead of the timeline bc i love them :/

Jason stumbles over from the finish line, grinning and sweat-drenched. And then his face screws up in sudden distress, and he promptly wobbles and collapses onto the hot stadium mat.

A half-formed sound of alarm—

Bruce leaps over the bleacher railing and sprints.

A poor, well-meaning race official gets there first, but Bruce shoulders him roughly aside and crouches by Jason. Jason has turned on his side, holding his right knee tight to his chest and making little pained gasps.

It tears at his heart. “Jason,” Bruce says.

Jason’s eyes are screwed shut, and he says nothing, but one of his hands reach blindly in Bruce’s direction and Bruce grasps it tightly.

“You were terrific, chum.” He squeezes, and feels the tremor that goes through his son. “Stretch your leg out for me.”

Jason shakes his head. “Hurts—”

“I know. I know. Please, Jay.”

It’s slow, and excruciating, but between the two of them they manage to get Jason sitting up, his leg extended straight against the ground. One hand of Bruce’s presses down firmly on the knee, and the other pushes his foot to flex, the metal spikes of Jason’s shoes digging hard into the callused flesh of Bruce’s palm. Jason leans back on his hands, spread flat against the ground, head tilted up to open, cloudless sky, exhaling drawn-out, shaky breaths.

The speakers blare out the next events—second call for Male C’s 400-meter hurdles, and third call for Female B’s high jump. The left side of the crowd begins clapping on beat for their star javelin thrower as she rocks back on her feet, once, twice, and begins bounding forward. Bruce makes a displeased noise. He hopes his throwers remember to pay attention.

A mosquito buzzes by Bruce’s ear and he shakes his head sharply to drive it away. The sweat has been beading at his hairline all throughout, and now it rolls torturously slow down his face. As his hands are otherwise occupied, he makes no move to wipe it, and does his best to ignore the unpleasant sensation.

At last, Jason’s breathing evens out. He tugs his leg gingerly away from Bruce’s hold, cheeks flushed with exertion and, doubtless, embarrassment. “Thanks.”

Bruce sits back on his haunches and wipes the sweat off his face. “Ready to stand?”

Jason raises a hand, wincing as he tests the muscles of his leg. “One sec.”

Bruce nods shortly. Jason safe, his attention wanders over to the bleachers. Tim, thank God, is dragging Damian away from the high railing. Dick and Cass are eating lunch with much avidity—Dick’s best event, high jump, had just ended before Jason’s, and Cass seems to have just returned from shot put. Duke and Stephanie are nowhere in sight, and for a moment Bruce is alarmed, but then he spots them at the stage and relaxes. Duke must have won his high jump—he stands on the highest podium, and even from here Bruce can tell he’s grinning—and Stephanie is clicking away on the school camera next to the official photographer.

As he watches Stephanie turn the camera backward and attempt to take a selfie with Duke, there’s a tap on his thigh. Bruce extends his hand without looking and grasps the hand that interlocks with his, pulling Jason up with ease.

Bruce glances at Jason, and notes how he squints against the glaring afternoon. “Remember to reapply your sunscreen when you get back.”

Jason rolls his eyes. “Not everyone is ghost-white like you.”

“You do not have to be ghost-white to get skin cancer.”

Jason grumbles, but when Bruce raises an imperious eyebrow at him, he raises his hands in surrender. “Fine. Whatever you say, boss.”

“Good. And, Jay...” Bruce reaches out, tentative, and puts a hand on his shoulder. “I meant it. You did terrific.”

Jason beams, bright enough to outshine the day, and something in Bruce’s chest uncurls into warmth.

#bruce wayne #jason todd #batman #dc #ALSO THIS IS VAGUELY FILIPINO AU in the sense that . our track meets were alwys SO SO SO HOT like even when u sit on the track u can feel i #BURNINGGGGGG thru ur shorts like owowowoww and also i feel really dizzy when im out there for so long... sun is a deadly lazee #the worst is when i was doing throwinf events cuz thats right out in the field and u have to wait for everyone's turn again and again and #IT WAS SOOOO HOT IT WAS AFTERNOON AROUND 3PM I WAS LITERALLY BURNING UP IN THAT HEAT and there was only one tiny tent for the scorer but TH #SUNLIGHT SLANTED INTO IT SO ACTUALLY THERE WAS BARELY ANY SHADE AJAHWJSGWJDGKEHRKRHFKRBRBEjehwjwhw #also the cramps thing has not happened to me that much since im not a big runner BUT i see it happen a lot to others. ow in sympathy #also the javelin thrower clapping thing. we do this for this one guy from another school bc his throws are simply CRAZY #u start clapping when he bounces in position and then clap along to his bounds forward and then SCREAMM AND CHEER when it's thrown its grea #my fics #batman track and field au

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skrimbleeowo · 3 months ago

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every inside joke ive ever had.

knee surgery, skin pikachu, when the apple is fresh, gug, guh, blue, horse, the horses are coming, making out on the jouch behind taco bell at 5pm wearing the sour cream and onion lays thigh highs, pidgeon milk, gay deer, listen to the horses, anthony do you hear the distant clip cloping of the hooves?, grips your thigh, how i look at bro when he grabs my balls and twists, 97 sobbing horses, five and a half lemons, shaves you bald and licks your head, dead dog center, i cant wait to eat abstract colors, gently smiling stalon, chortles, the gayng plus airy for no specific reason, bald ass marx remove his hat, certified freak seven sheds a week, people would rather top a twink than stop and think, hello cro, the wall of shame, give it brown eye contacts i beg, bacteria, the horse man, pees, 🚷, hey gang almost drowned 🍴, EW EW EW NOT THIS FUCKI G BRID AGAIN, this sausgage im eating is like sooo good 🤤, together we are mepreg, beef, king dedede in the skittles packet on the wall, calougtromis, Constipated turbo 💞 on the shelf☝️, wolfrun he has flea 💕, do you feel, the splunger, firey ass, crying mort, slungus, 😹😹 the green one is here 😹, do not laugh the pig knows, clip being??, i want to be the slime man, club pengiun is kill, smiling egg dog, special finger, dry oatmeal, devious ahh chicken tender, niquil chicken, red aiden, the nefious angler fish, the family friend, joker piss, cheezits, the soggy goldfish incident, they hit the twink towers never faggot, aawagga, a whole spoingus, marxs quest for the sacred pepis, i just lost my dog, fourse, zims massive fucking fourhead, click the bart, gayng and the adopted chortles, the rat man, hello starlight, clutching my pearls, hey fazgang, i got that dog in me the dog, close twitter for the love of starclan, go my shithound, thread canceled antfarm go, i hope the bugs find him, shittsing, discreetly glances at your balls, ecuador, randal you cant say that word, could you repeat that, agony, fear, up my giant purple ass, bruh we in a mcchicken, furry divorce image, tompson dingletoes the 2st, meowing audio, baby limb ripper, rejoyce, horse instincts, minion ass, i smell y’all, soggy marx, hes so babygirl, all i see is a fruit, the freddy room, Pay that CHILD SUPPORT 🤑🤑🤑🤑🤑🤑🤑💥💥💥💥💥💥💸💸💸💸💸💸💸💸, ball cancer, uhm pin wrong finger, 🛷📳, does it jiggle leafy i swear to fucking god, diary stealer island stealer wish stealer, fawful gave me backshots😁⭐⭐⭐🙂🙂🙂💖💖💖💖🌼🌼🌼🌸🌺🌺🌷🌷🌹🌺🌷🌷😁😁😁😁😁🌈🌈🌈🙂🙂🙂, transgender marx cake, horse plinko, the gaylist, check it face eyes, marvullous bleeding rodent, invader zim obby, hairless cat shamura, furry dan, i hope you like bees!! 🐝🐝🐝🐝🐝🐝🐝🐝🐝🐝🐝🐝🐝🐝🐝🐝🐝, penisland, the lemon cellector, what if instead of cum you released a hive of bees from your dick, alvin and the faggots, 𓃗, Prokaryote, holy SHIT this is estrogen city in here!!, slurp, oh no.. 🚶🧎💻 , the marx hole, my fucking uterus, glass, john egbert, NEW KITCHEN GUN!!!!!! SPARKLES LIKE NEW, mom broke up with dad <:[ 😭 i have anxiety O_O, 17, the horses are rapidly approaching 🐎🐎🐎🐎🐎🐎🐎🐎🐎🐎🐎, she 4 on my lung till i 20$, the end is never the end is never the end is never the end the end is never the end is never the end is never the end the end is never the end, the slop, organ failure, freak jr, partplauge mpreg, what hi bye hi, hey hey hey, smile always, violet leapfrog dog, liam hfjone, im naming my pussy david now, jesterspace, why would she do that 🙁, did he peed 🙁, i hate when we have grass for lunch please domt say hate, lean four, leo bass bro pyrimid, mario pussy attack, GAY (for you!!), Haha Jonathan, **gas leak**, revisiting my divorced husband, penith, freaky time, greetings and salutations, seattle esex, bens loving the ☀️☀️ today!, im geeking, ocasionally neighing, 60 year old man named hugo, 7 hours and 12 minutes, 2 hours and 33 minutes, the critters, richard, GGLLGAG, think, whatever go my scarb, magestic horse, pea screaming, ren contemplating, do hear👂that? the ❌ is coming, me when i wake up, soggy, autism

#gang #this is horrible #theres more #i reached the limit #inside joke #horse #the horses #the horses approach

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ballinandcantgetup452 · 6 months ago

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The Last Will and Testament of Lex Luthor, Part 3

It's been about a year since Lex Luthor was last seen. Clark has almost forgotten that Lex was even a thing. Sure, every once and a while, he'd think about Luthor, and maybe he'd even check and see if he's been spotted anywhere if he felt like it. But, at this point, he had just begun to feel nothing in regards to Lex. Not love, not hate, just a neutral feeling.

That is until a Lex-Bot tackled him and kamikazed him while he was flying.

He called Batman and the Atom over and they got to the wreckage as soon as they could. All that they could recover was a hard drive. They found it due to nanites, courtesy of Ray Palmer. It had essentially shot itself out of the Lex-Bot and into the nearest trash can. The nanites helped to find it.

After buying a random laptop because nobody wanted to put the Lex Luthor hard drive into theirs (and having an awkward conversation paying for a laptop completely in cash while in costume at a random Best Buy), they finally put the flash drive in to see what was on it. The only thing on it was coordinates. Coordinates placed a mile under Smallville, Kansas.

Clark immediately booked it out of the Best Buy and flew as fast as he could to the location. All that was running through Clark's mind was what Lex could possibly be doing in Smallville of all places. How does he even know that's significant to him? He began to run through every horrible thing Lex could be doing to his parents. He got faster. He began to think about the horrible things that could be happening to Lois because Lex would leak his secret identity. He got even faster. Clark's anxiety began to rapidly build up. He's never been more nervous in his life. He got to the coordinates and saw a big box made of lead about 300 feet down. Clark figured that Lex made that to make sure that Clark knew he was the one that made it. Clark began to spin down, creating a tunnel. He didn't have time to be subtle about this. Besides, nobody was around for about 20 miles. Which in country terms meant he had at least 20 minutes before somebody drove by on their way to somewhere else. He heated up his eyes in case he needed to go in guns blazing. Once he found lead, he tore it in two and landed right in front of Lex. His eyes glowing red and his game face on. He then calmed down upon seeing him. Seemingly dropping all potential for a fight. Lex looked over at Clark. He wasn't sitting in a desk with his parents in test tubes of Joker toxin. He wasn't in a power suit with a Kryptonite spear in hand, ready to throw down. Lex Luthor was on a hospital bed. An IV was inserted into his arm. Beside his bed was a table with a lead box. There was a monitor projecting his heartrate. Clark used his X-Ray vision to see what was going on with Lex.

Lex had heart cancer, and he was going to die. Soon. Very soon.

Lex coughed,

"You know, the coordinates I gave you would've put you right at the door. You could've simply waltzed right on in here, have Mercy walk you in, have some pretzels," Lex began to cough even more violently, "but instead you choose to punch a hole in this $7,000,000 facility."

Clark looked over at Lex and had nothing but sympathy in his eyes,

"Lex, I'm sorry."

Lex shrugged,

"Eh, figures. I put something in my hometown, you take it as an invitation to be as subtle as a cinder brick since there's no infrastructure around. It teaches me a lesson in the dangers of nostalgia."

Lex signals to the chair beside of him.

"Sit. Alien. I've got some things to tell you before I die."

"You're not going to die, Lex."

"Yes. I am. And there's no way in hell you're saving me."

"...what did you want to tell me?"

Lex's eyes began to fill with hatred and disdain.

"Checkmate."

Clark's look of sympathy turned into confusion,

"What?"

Lex grabbed the tiny lead box on the table beside him and opened it up. As soon as Clark saw the tiniest green shine emanate from the crack of the box Lex barely began to open, he sped over to him to force the box closed. He used his heat vision to seal it shut. Lex rolled his eyes at Clark.

"Relax, Superman, there isn't any Kryptonite in there. Mercy took it away from me months ago. I just wanted to give you a little scare, you looked too comfortable," Lex noticed that Clark began to look around the lead-made building to see if he could maybe spot any Kryptonite, "I know you're trying to spot any Kryptonite. In hindsight, that scare wasn't worth it. To make sure I have your undivided attention, the only pieces of Kryptonite are in the rail gun in Mercy's arm. I really was expecting you to take the door."

Lex continued with his diatribe.

"I win, Superman. I've managed to concoct a plan to get someone you'll never beat." Lex began to violently cough, "Do you know who it is?"

Clark already knew.

Lex continued after finishing his coughing fit,

"Death. You can never beat death. Admittedly, the premise of the idea was an accident. You see, Kryptonite can obviously affect Kryptonians. However, it can also affect humans as well. Especially humans arrogant enough to keep a piece in the breast pocket of their suits for 15 years. At first I thought I'd give you cancer, too. Hijack somebody's rocket ship doing research on the sun and force you to intervene and fly extremely close to the sun, thus causing your cells to become so supercharged they start slowly killing you. But, lucky for you, I found that to be too petty. But then I realized something, I can prove I'm better than you by doing something you could never do."

Clark looked at Lex in utter terror,

"Lex, what have you done?"

"Simple, Superman. I saved the world better than you ever could. I cured cancer."

#superman #mawsm #lois lane #clark kent #dc comics #dc comics fanfiction #dc fanfiction #lex luthor #the last will and testament of lex luthor #the last will and testament of lex luthor part 2 #the last will and testament of lex luthor part 3 #I swear I'm working on part 4 as I am typing this #I just saw how much of a banger cliffhanger that is #hang tight

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houseofbrat · 11 months ago

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These covers are nauseating because she. doesn’t. have. cancer and have literally exploited it to get out of the comms mess they made.

I expect the headlines going forward to be:

Anytime a member of the RF does any engagement it will be because “they working to support Kate” even The King who actually has cancer

When The King recovers from cancer it will be framed as he was inspired by Kate who again doesn’t have cancer

There will be zero calls for William especially to step up and work and they are never going to be criticized for not working again. Anyone who expects them to will be shamed

Also not how mercenary Kensington Palace is. When the King was diagnosed, they made no public statement of support. They didn’t even like or share his announcement message. Nothing leaked about how they were supporting him, if the grandkids sent him cards etc. Now suddenly to prop up this fake cancer storyline, The King is used as a prop for “heartfelt lunches” and “emotional hospital visits”. They don’t care about him - it’s just useful to use him now.

People falling for this are chumps are it says a lot about the moral rot at Kensington Palace. William truly is Diana’s son in the worst way and I wonder if their dishonesty and opportunism will ever catch up to them.

Sorry for the long ask but I’m frankly pissed!

I think Heath Ledger's Joker pretty much sums up the situation at this point.

I will also say that I completely side-eye the excuse of giving a public statement now due to the kids' term break & Easter holiday. I've seen plenty of rumors that the UK press has known since January that Kate had a medical diagnosis of cancer regarding her operation. This certainly fits in with Tom Bower's statements at the end of February.

If that's true, then KP could have made a simple statement in February when the kids were on their half-term break about her condition, even if they didn't release that specific diagnosis. That statement would have quelled and quieted down all the speculation weeks ago. Except they didn't do that.

I don't buy this notion of making a statement right before they go hide away for three and a half weeks to protect their kids from their school chums, is it? Do six-, nine-, and eleven-year-olds at Lambrook really care about what the media says about their classmates' mother? I find this really hard to believe given that there hardly seems to be any social media pictures of them attending school functions in the two years the kids have been attending school there. Sure, there's one pic here or there, but when the world is wondering "Where is Kate?," I didn't see any news reports quoting Lambrook parents supporting the speculation that Will had secretly offed Kate. Instead the Lambrook parents seem to be pretty keen on keeping the media/press out of their children's schooling. I don't buy the rationale of Kate announced it now due to the kids' break.

I think the British media is a bunch of clowns, and they are still set about continuing to be so. There were rumors circulating that the BBC was on alert for news about Kate a week ago. Lo and behold, the Beeb filmed Kate's video on Wednesday for a Friday night news dump. But last weekend, Roya Nikkhah was publishing KP pr about how Kate would only talk about her health in person to people she visited on engagements. This weekend Roya is writing about how Charles & Kate's cancer is bringing them both together! And yet, she will continue to post drivel-like scraps even if it's a complete fabrication by KP. KP already had a plan to do a video of Kate if rumors were already circulating at the BBC. When is Roya going to stop accepting nonsense from her KP-related sources? When will all of them? I wonder...

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fractualized · 2 years ago

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I just read the latest preview for Knight Terrors Joker #2 and the name thing (where characters from the main story are incorporated into the dream) you mentioned also becomes super obvious in it. We even see the old women who was dying of cancer that Joker pretended to be the husband of. This makes me think the sewer rat Joker is the one having the dreams or at the very least Knight Terrors #2 is his and Knight Terrors #1 is the other guy's. The houses of the two settings look a little different, so it might be that they are having two separate nightmares for each Joker. Though you can briefly see Jason Todd in the first issue along with names that the LA Joker probably didn't hear. What are your thoughts?

Oooh, I was waiting to see how the Knight Terror concludes in #2 to figure out if there's a deeper meaning to the real-world names, but I didn't expect them to become even more significant. Interesting, interesting…

(more spoilers below cut)

From looking at the preview, I would say it's definitely Sewer Rat Joker having the dream since all the names are from his storyline. I think the houses may be different not because #2 is a different dream, but because time has passed since Joker sunk into his job, and in that time he got married and had a kid and moved elsewhere. The fact that the wife and kid are both terminal patients from the hospital and ghostly pale like Joker feels significant. Joker built a new life but still feels damaged and dead, and perhaps he doused Lena in acid like he did with Harley because trauma has just been the way he attaches to people… And Albert could be pale for the same reason, if he was adopted, or just by genetics if he's Lena and Joker's.

I'm also thinking the dream-within-a-dream, about Joker acting as Batman, could mean that we'll find that it's not that Batman was somehow resurrected, but that it's been Joker the whole time and he just makes himself forget what he does at night. (Some angry desperate part of him that activates when he's mindlessly watching reality TV, that wants to feel alive again, and puts him in a vigilante fugue state?) But what would that mean for Dream Bruce Wayne, who is also allegedly alive? Is Bruce indeed a separate figure in the dream, or is Joker acting as him too??

And if Sewer Rat Joker is having the dream, does that mean he's the real one? His thought bubbles are showing up in #2 as well, and I realized the Joker who went to LA doesn't have those. Questions, questions…

Also I didn't catch Jason in #1? Enlighten me?

#knight terrors: joker #the man who stopped laughing #joker #spoilers #ask

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thiswaycomessomethingwicked · 9 months ago

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You can't just drop the fact you have ghost stories to tell in the poll tags and not share. WHAT creepy ghost at your dad's house??

hahaha - it sounds more spectacular than it was. So far as hauntings go, it was pretty banal.

at my dad's old house there was a shadow figure that hung out between the kitchen and the walk-through pantry that lead to the garage.

I saw him for the first time when I was circa 10 - I was at the front door and looking in, waiting for my stepmom to get my brother out of the car, and saw a figure move from the kitchen into the pantry. I thought it was my dad at first - since the figure was tall, broad shouldered and roughly fit his sillouhette.

When we got inside, I went to look and my dad was obviously not in the house. I went out back to his workshop and asked if he had just been in, he hadn't. He's not the sort lie about that/make a joke of that particular nature.

Years later, brought it up to my dad and step mom and they had both seen the entity as well. My step-mom when she was taking laundry out - she was in the garage, door to the pantry was open, she saw someone moving about in it and thought it was my dad and called out to him to help her. No reply. Dad wasn't in the house.

Similarly for my dad, he was getting something down from the pantry and saw a figure over his shoulder and thought it was my step-mom (she's a tall, big woman) and asked her to help him and no response.

There was always a sense of being watched in that place. Obviously in the kitchen, and also a bit in the room that was my bedroom at that time. We found out from a neighbour that the previous owner had died in the house (of cancer, he was old) and the room he was in was my bedroom.

I did have a bit of an ominous feeling around the closet - but that might have been because I had a deep seated fear instilled into me about closets because of that one X-Files episode where the devil comes out of it and impregnates that woman (I think it's Scully. I was very young when I saw that episode). Also, to be fair, some of the dead guy's clothes were still in there.

That said, I don't know if it was the dead guy or if it was something/someone else. Entities are weird, it's hard to pin down identity at times.

At one of my mom's places there was an entity that liked to play with my shirts. They would tug them down and like...fuss? I always got the vibe it was an old abuela who felt I was disheveled and needed to tuck in my shirts.

(The house was quite old and had a long Mexican history to it.)

One of my friends lives in a place that used to be a brothel back when the racetracks were in our neighbourhood (and when the trains stopped at this part of town. So, circa 1910s/20s). I've seen a woman in her living room. She tends to pace back and forth. I know my friend has seen her twice as well.

Also, there was a time we were all out back for a fire and my friend went in to get a drink. She came back out and was like, "y'all are fucking with me" which is not something the friend group does. We're not practical jokers. We go in, every cabinet door in the kitchen is open, the oven door is open, the dishwasher door is open. It was wild.

There are some other stories, but that's enough for now. I hang out a lot with ghosts!!

#ghosts #spooks #paranormal #personal #ask #reply #anon

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liverobinreaction · 1 year ago

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Can you imagine uncle Gerry?

First of all rich family friends so cancer in remission or even treated.

Secondly Gerry is atleast Eye aligned so he'll know the secret identity which would save Tim a lot of problems.

Thirdly the irony of Gerard Keay no.1 hater of Jurgen Leitner because of mommy issues getting along with Janet Drake daughter of Jurgen Leitner and guardian of Tim Drake grandson of Jurgen Leitner (both of whom are also no.1 haters of Jurgen Leitner because of daddy issues and intergenerational trauma).

Fourthly imagine Dick and Bruce being like, "ok how do we tell Tim that his beloved uncle allegedly skinned his own mother alive?" (In case Tim didnt create a fake identity for Gerry).

Fifthly i think Gerry would have killed Joker, not even for anything personal, maybe he saw an avatar of desolation and it was on sight? Maybe he was trying to get rid of a Leitner and accidentally killed Joker with it? Maybe he kinda missed a Leitner and Joker got his hands on it which ended up killing him? All i know is Gerry probably doesnt even know who Joker is, he just sorta accidentally got him killed (Jason comes back and he's like, "well it is shitty that Bruce replaced me, but atleast he killed the Joker." And Tim is like "uhhhh actually")

Oh my FUCKING GOD YOU ARE A GENIUS

you know i have to write this now right? RIGHT??? God. I know what im doing in my downtime at work tomorrow. Holy fuck

Uncle Gerry who chooses to leave the Magnus Institute and is adopted by the daughter of his hated (one sided) enemy. He's brought back home to Gotham and falls in love with it. He's introduced to Tim as his uncle Gerry, and Tim, who thinks Gerry is the SHIT goes hell yes. Uncle Gerry lemme show you all of my cool stuff. And gerry is awkward at first bc hes like uhhhh weird small (11 year old) child who wants him to paint his nails black too. There is a goth child tim phase is what im saying. His cancer is also immediately caught and treated, and he recovers

Anyway after the accident where janet dies and jack is in a coma, he finds out that theyve put him down as tims guardian. And hes like. Uhhhhhhhhh. Tim is distraught but he loves gerry even though he keeps trying to convince him to take up a safer hobby than being robin. It does not work, so gerry basically activates his 'baby monitor' (using the eye). Both bruce and dick are like. Tim. Tim. Why does your guardian have a criminal record of -checks documents- SKINNING HIS MOTHER

Tim points out the trial fell apart bc of a lack of evidence and bruce is going insane bc there was evidence!!! There was absolutely so much evidence!!!!!! But tim is like. Nah. Gerry wouldnt do that. Hes cool.

And YES HE WOULD KILL THE JOKER ACCIDENTALLY hed be held up or something bc ha ha funny goth man and gerry, channeling his inner elias, commits pipe murder. Either that or the eye is like hey you wanna do something funny? unscrew this lightbulb. So he does. And later when the joker holds up the store or something an electric failure causes the bulb to explode and a shard lodges itself into the jokers brainstem.

#bug replies #ask #anonymous #book collecting dust eating rat

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calciseptinefic · 2 years ago

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then out of nowhere, somebody comes and hits you with an ooh la la la, ooh la la la, ooh la la la, ooh

Marvel || Wade Wilson/Peter Parker || Part 8 notes: Title from 'Mad Sounds' by Arctic Monkeys. Many thanks to babygato for her beta on this chapter. this fic is also available on ao3 warnings: none

← previous: Part 7

After returning to Queens and collecting the necessary foodstuffs for both making dinner and movie watching, they go back to the apartment and collapse onto opposite ends of the couch. For ten minutes, they are unmoving and quiet, both of them exhausted. Most of the day had been long and tedious, but it had been interspersed by brief periods of near frantic activity and stress, and Wade's brain needs a quick reboot before he does anything else. Peter must need a reprieve as well, because he says nothing until Wade groans and sits up.

"This is a really nice couch," Peter comments. His head is fully supported by the back cushion, and he stares at the skip trowel textured ceiling, unseeing. "Like a cloud for my butt."

"Bought it for naps," Wade tells him. What he does not say is that he bought it almost four years ago, when he started needing naps in the middle of the day and his previous sectional wasn't cutting it. At first Wade had thought that the sudden lethargy was a consequence of nearing thirty; a lot of people complained about slowing down in their late twenties, so he thought nothing of it. Eventually, however, he found out that his tiredness was a side effect of cancer, the growing tumor in his testicles stealing his energy as it grew and spread.

Wade physically shakes his head to expel such unhappy thoughts from his brain. Then, getting to his feet, he asks, "Dinner first, or Batman movie?"

"I'm still not super hungry," Peter answers.

"Alrighty. 'Batman Begins' and junk food. Got it."

Wade puts on the first movie while Peter arranges the goodies they bought from the bodega on the coffee table. They have Twizzlers Pull N Peel and rainbow Sour Punch straws, a bag of classic M&Ms, some Snickers bars, and those discount fruit wedges in both cherry and orange. Peter picked out a couple of original flavored Monsters while Wade bought an entire 2-liter of Mountain Dew Code Red. Wade doesn't bother to chill it or get a cup of ice to pour it over; he simply unscrews the top and drinks.

Peter raises one very judgmental eyebrow.

Wade burps. Loudly.

Peter's expression morphs into disgust, his button nose scrunching. Wade has to grab a Snickers bar from the table in order not to reach out and boop the tip of Peter's cute nose, and says, "Don't be a hypocrite, Kyle. I'm not the one who bought an energy drink consumed only by preteen gamers who rage quit and punch through drywall."

"Says the grown ass man downing room temperature Code Red," Peter snorts.

For the first five minutes of the movie, Wade and Peter are silent. Peter has a Twizzlers rope that he meticulously pulls apart and consumes, string by string, as he watches Bruce get beat up in some nameless, dirty prison. When Ra's al Ghul—disguised as Ducard—appears and offers a new path to fighting injustice, Peter quips, "Wow, that man's beard is sus as fuck."

Wade barks out a laugh.

"Also, League of Shadows?" Peter makes a derisive noise in the back of his throat. "What kind of good guy organization calls themselves 'The League of Shadows'? I call shenanigans."

Wade is delighted to learn that Peter is also a talker during movies; that he also prefers using subtitles; and that he doesn't mind when Wade occasionally pauses the movie to explain relevant tidbits of lore. However, this does mean that it takes them almost three hours to finish the first movie and—by the time Lieutenant Gordon has handed Batman the joker playing card, setting up the premise of the second movie—the sun has begun to set outside. The shadows in Wade's apartment have deepened and the room is cast in a warm shade of orange.

"Dinner?" Peter asks. He's finished one of the Monsters and the entire bag of Twizzlers Pull N Peel.

"I can put on the next movie for you while I start dinner," Wade offers.

"Nah, I'll keep you company." Peter stands up and stretches, rolling onto the balls of his feet and reaching upwards, the lithe lines of muscle invisible beneath the extra fabric of Wade's too big clothes. Wade can hear his spine crack. "Whatcha making?"

"Chicken piccata."

Wade learned the recipe over a decade ago, during one of his longer and more tedious missions. It had been his second year in special forces, a while before he got his scar, and he had been planted in some dinky apartment complex while he did intelligence gathering. The ancient grandmother who lived next door, Leora Di Meo, took an immediate shine to him and, over the course of four months, she became one of the most important people in his life. Leora taught him most of his Italian—the third language he learned to speak fluently, after his native English and then Congolese French—how to cheat at most card games, how to slow dance, and how to put love and care into a meal.

"Most nights it was me and Leora, sipping her homemade limoncello and playing Parcheesi while I sweated my balls off in the Mediterranean summer," Wade tells Peter as he places the floured chicken into the pan, letting it brown before flipping it. "Shit, that stuff was strong. I swear she used some illegally imported Russian spirits but I could never get a straight answer outta her."

"And this was one of the recipes she taught you?"

"One of many. I can even make my own pasta."

Leora made Wade cook with her every night he wasn't on stakeout. Before her, he could barely make a grilled cheese sandwich or fry an egg; after, he was making most sauces from scratch and had opinions on cooking wines. Leora's chicken piccata recipe was one of the last she taught him. When she shared it with him, she told Wade to be careful who he made it for, in case he ended up with an unexpected spouse.

"She said it was how she managed to snare the best looking man in her village, so I guess it's a good thing you're already married," Wade jokes as he splashes some wine in the stainless steel pan to deglaze it. "Otherwise you'd drag me to the courthouse first thing tomorrow."

Wade doesn't know why he says it. Maybe it's a stupid way to 'test the waters', even though Wade knows exactly what temperature the pool is and exactly why he shouldn't be in it. Or maybe it's a reminder to himself that, despite the ease of their closeness and the chicken piccata 'marry me' meal he's cooking, Peter isn't his. Will not be his. Regardless of what universe he is from, he belongs to his wife, MJ.

Same stupid fucking mantra you've been saying all fucking day, Wade thinks, irritated at himself. When's it gonna stick in your dumb head?

Briefly, Wade glances at Peter over his shoulder. Peter's gaze is directed away, his eyes unfocused as he stares at nothing. His teeth are digging into his bottom lip and his long, thin fingers twist his ring around, and around, and around. He looks... vaguely unsure.

Worried.

Upset.

And now you've reminded him that he believes that his wife is in another universe that he currently has no way of getting back to. Nice one, asshole.

Feeling like a tool, Wade turns back to the stove and scrapes the tasty brown bits off the bottom of the pan with a wooden spatula. He knows he shouldn't have pushed. Honestly, what was he expecting? This was supposed to be a fun, easy night for both of them before Wade started digging deeper into Peter's life and the lives of the people around him. Wade isn't supposed to dwell on the hopeless things he can't change. He's supposed to introduce Peter to Batman. Make Peter a good dinner. Make Peter smile and laugh and forget that he's technically trapped. Wade is disappointed that he hasn't been completely successful; when his head isn't up his own ass, being a distraction is his forte, considering how naturally loud and annoying he is.

Loud and annoying, Wade thinks. Now there's an idea.

Truthfully, Wade is not a great singer. He's tone deaf; he frequently sings too flat or too sharp; and his mediocre baritone doesn't have the range needed for opera. Despite this, he remains undeterred as he inhales deeply—

Tilts his head back—

And begins to bellow Figaro's aria from 'The Barber of Seville'.

As he finishes dinner, Wade dances and spins—his frilly apron emphasizing each movement—and gesticulates wildly as he la-la-las and Figaro-Figaro-Figaros. He makes up for his bad singing with flair and silliness, and by the time Wade sets a plate of food in front of Peter, the other man is in hysterics, his whole face red from laughter and cheeks tacky with tears.

"My singing made Leora cry too," Wade gripes, throwing his hands up in mock defeat. "Everyone's a critic."

But Wade's barely passable rendition of 'Largo al Factotum' has done what he intended, and the strange mood from earlier has dissipated. They sit side by side at the kitchen island, Peter scarfing down his sizable portion while Wade eats at a more sedate pace. Peter compliments Wade a half dozen times and—while Wade tries to shrug them off—it's been awhile since he's cooked for anyone but himself, and each compliment makes him warm.

After dinner, they return to the couch to watch 'The Dark Knight'. Peter makes a lot of sarcastic commentary, scoffing and rolling his eyes approximately every five minutes, and Wade has to pause once to use the bathroom, but they manage to finish the second movie by eleven. They take a small break, in which they both change into more comfortable clothes, and Wade pops a bag of popcorn in the microwave to mix up with their M&Ms. When they reconvene, Peter is mid-jaw-cracking yawn.

'The Dark Knight Rises' is Wade's personal favorite of the trilogy. The beginning always makes him laugh, as he did multiple extraction missions in his day, and none of them were as wonderfully over-contrived as the CIA operation depicted. He likes Bane's strange voice, Bruce's final adventure as Batman, and Anne Hathaway as Selena Kyle. Wade talks more during this film than he did for the first or second while Peter nods along, picking through the last of their candy. They get quieter and quieter as the end nears, engrossed by the fast pace of the ending, and are silent by the time Alfred sees Bruce and Selena together at the restaurant.

"Is that a thing?" Wade asks when the credits begin to roll. "Superhero retirement?"

For a moment, Peter says nothing. He just stares at the television screen, his face illuminated strangely by the artificial light. His expression is mostly blank: eyebrows loose, mouth slightly parted, jaw slack.

"Pete?" Wade says gently. He sits up a little and angles his body towards Peter's. One of his hands comes up to touch Peter but he stops, fingers hovering inches away from Peter's arm as he remembers that he's trying to maintain physical distance. "Baby boy?"

Peter looks at him and—with no warning—his face crumples and he begins to cry, huge tears spilling over his cheeks. Wade immediately turns to face Peter completely, his other hand coming up, though once again he stops inches from Peter's body. Wade has absolutely no idea why Peter is sad and he doesn't know what's wrong or how he can fix it, so he blurts:

"The ending wasn't that bad, was it?"

The joke is reflexive, as is the small laugh that bubbles out of Peter's mouth. It sounds awful. Strangled. It makes Peter's countenance twist into something raw and intense. More tears fall out of Peter's bright, glassy eyes and he scrubs at them with his hands, gasping, "Sorry, Wade—I just—"

Peter's words are choked by a sob. He tries to suck in a lungful of air but it just makes his shoulders shake and his ribs shudder.

"I'm sorry," Peter hiccups as his crying gets worse. He's covered his whole face with his hands to hide himself. "I'm sorry, I don't—please, it's not—it's not you or the movie or—I'm just—" He takes another one of those terrible, shaky breaths and whimpers, "Wade—"

Earlier that day, Wade told himself that he'd keep his hands off Peter. It wasn't right to keep acting like he had a chance when all evidence said otherwise. But right now, Wade doesn't know what to do, and Peter clearly has something he needs to get out.

"Sweetheart," Wade says, wrapping one hand around Peter's wrist. "Hey. Listen. I don't know what's wrong, and you don't have to tell me if you don't want to, but I think you need to let this out, whatever it is. So if you need space, I can go to my room and wait until you're ready, or... if you need someone to listen, I'm here. Whatever you need, okay?"

Wade doesn't know what he expected. Maybe for Peter to tell him to go, or maybe for Peter to say nothing as he continued to sob. He was certainly not expecting for Peter to let out a heart-breaking little wail, clamber into his lap, and wrap all his limbs around Wade's torso.

"Oh," Wade says as Peter buries his face into Wade's shoulder. "Hugs. Okay. I can do that."

Carefully, Wade places his hands on Peter's back. Earlier, Peter had changed into the same clothes he wore last night—Vanessa's old cropped hoodie and Wade's sweatpants—so Wade's palms meet the unobstructed expanse of Peter's naked back. Under any other circumstance, such a touch would make Wade's brain melt out one ear; under this circumstance, however, all Wade can worry about is if the rough calluses on his hands hurt Peter's smooth skin.

"I'm sorry," Peter whispers again.

"Don't be sorry," Wade murmurs. Tentatively, he runs a hand soothingly down the line of Peter's spine, each vertebrae a discernible bump beneath Wade's fingers.

"It's just..." Peter makes a small, distressed noise. His grip around Wade's torso gets a little tighter and he burrows into Wade even more. "I was trying so hard not to think about it."

"About what?"

Wade almost misses what Peter says next. Peter's face is still pressed against Wade's shoulder and his voice is so faint it barely reaches Wade's ear. But he hears it as Peter quietly says,

"What if I never make it back?"

The guilt that follows crushes Wade, a weight so huge it suffocates all the air out of Wade's lungs. The past twenty-four hours have been a chaotic rollercoaster for him, ranging from exciting and joyous to bitter and terrifying, and not once—not even fucking once—has he stopped to consider how it must be for Peter. Regardless of his true origins, Peter believes that he's from another universe, and their adventures today have shown that it will be difficult for him to get back home. Impossible, even. Sure, they could go to Boston tomorrow and talk to Richards, but such a trip would likely be pointless.

"Fuck," Wade hisses, resting his cheek on Peter's curls and tightening his own arms around Peter's smaller body. They're completely entwined, clinging to one another, and it's so far from the closeness Wade wanted that he wants to cry too. He squeezes his eyes shut as hard as he can so the tears don't escape. "Peter—I'm sorry, I didn't even think—"

"It's not your fault," Peter says softly.

But it is. It is very much Wade's fault. He might not be the reason Peter has special spider-adjacent super powers, and he doesn't know why Peter broke into his apartment, but he is responsible for Peter's distress. He has been so enamored of Peter—from the way Peter looked to the way Peter treated him—that Wade hasn't considered how Peter must feel being separated from everything he knows and everyone he loves or what it must be like to meet dead end after dead end. He told himself that he would be the person Peter thought he was—kind and good and deserving of such absolute faith—but he's been nothing but a self-serving piece of shit since Peter took off his mask and smiled at him.

"We'll figure this out," Wade promises Peter. "It doesn't matter how long it takes. It doesn't matter what we have to do. I swear that one way or another, I'll keep you safe and I'll get you back to where you belong. Okay?"

Such a vow is insane even for Wade, who tends towards irrational behavior and frequently throws himself head first into situations without considering the consequences. But by coincidence or unknown circumstance, Peter has dropped into his life and become ineffably important to him, and Wade means every word down to his bones. He's only known Peter for a day, but he knows he will do anything and everything he can to make sure Peter gets home, no matter what 'home' ends up being.

"Okay," Peter says, his voice still trembling. "I trust you."

Peter stays tucked beneath Wade's chin after his crying has faded, long enough for the television to switch from the movie's title screen to muted screensaver. Wade watches as it shifts through various high definition landscapes—deserts, oceans, mountains—before it goes black and the comforting darkness of the apartment folds over them. At some point, Peter has fallen asleep, and he is loose and warm in Wade's arms. It would be so easy to lie back on the couch, pull Peter atop him, and close his eyes, even if Peter's bony body digs into his in uncomfortable ways. A small part of him still desperately wants that, but the rest of him is weighed down by guilt. He can't take advantage of Peter more than he already has.

Exhausted from the long day and the emotional upheaval, Peter barely stirs as Wade stands, one arm looped beneath Peter's butt and the other around Peter's back. He's heavier than he looks—his super strength likely derived from more compact and denser muscle fibers—but Wade moves him around easily enough, laying Peter back down on the couch cushions and tucking him in. Peter burrows deeper into the comforter and noses into the pillow. Some of his dark curls fall across his forehead and cheek, unconsciously begging to be tucked back behind his ear. Wade squeezes his hands into white-knuckled fists to stop himself from doing as they ask.

"Good night, sweetheart," Wade whispers. Then, again, "I'm sorry."

But Peter—already fast asleep—does not hear him.

next → : Part 9

#spideypool #wade wilson #deadpool #peter parker #spiderman #pairing: wade wilson/peter parker #rating: m #fandom: marvel

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