#things Dr. Bright is not allowed to do anymore

[lorieninksong]

[your-nanas-house]

had this thought awhile back but a rivals to lovers type one shot with jonathan crane and the reader but the reader is poison ivy if that makes sense? both doctors, both using chemicals/pheromones for their own reasons…..make it smutty! i trust you!

Pungent as a rose

◇ Pairing: Jonathan Crane X poison ivy!Reader

◇ Warnings: smut, eating out, drugs, dub-con, hate

◇ Summary: When chemistry meets chemistry between people.

◇ Note: Sorry for the mistakes and the English. Not proof read and shitty endind.

Her heels kept clicking on the floor of the asylum... fast and confident, as she reached the labs in the dark.

The only light present was the one of the moon, bright but soft, decorating with shadows the bare intern walls of the building.

Noises kept coming from the background, screams, laughter and soft snores and... then his voice which wasn't part of them anymore.

"Colleague.. what are you doing here in the dark?" The smooth but low voice of Dr. Crane echoed in the small room, she really had been hoping to not meet him again. Since their last encounter he started to randomly appear more often in her path, casually trying to get her alone to bring up the past passion she had decided to share with him after a couple of extra chupito.

The young woman sure thought back at her colleague whimpering form under her, whining and moaning like a slut while still grab and manhandle her as he pleased.

As Jonathan couldn't stop thinking about her nails digging in his skin as his cock bullied her cervix, her teeth sinking as her wild eyes stare deeply in his. Since that damn night he couldn't remove the idea of spraying her with his toxin to look at fear in her eyes as he buried himself in her.

He already knew she was wild... but he was sure that he could make her snap.

He felt just weird, his body starting to get warmer as she inhaled her scent now that his chest was pressed against her back; he started to feel like an impulse that made him want to breath her in more even though his mind was getting dizzy almost as if he was getting wasted.

In fear of loosing his rational side, he moved his wrist casually in front of her face, a little bottle in his hand his thumb pressing down as she opened her mouth to ask him what he was doing, grimacing when the liquid wet her face.

Couple of seconds and she felt a rush of fear wash over her, her body started to shake and she turned pale, her vision was blurry at first but different things started to display in front of her. Jonathan was getting too hard under the effect of her chemical perfume to actually get hard by the mere look of her wide eyes, opting rather to follow his need and start grinding like an animal in heath against the curves of her ass.

"What did you do, you asshole?!" Y/n accused, holding unto the table as the feeling got stronger, making her sweat as her breath quickened. She rolled her eyes back, chills running down her spine as the familiar sensation of lust hit her hard, the feeling of fear just increasing her wetness.

Jonathan didn't replied, letting her move him around easily by the hair down to a kneeled position, before burying his face in her thighs, waiting shakily to be able to taste her.

It took her longer than expected since her hands were shaking but as soon as she managed to remove her panties she sat on the lab table, spreading her legs so that he could please her properly

"Stupid bitch" she hissed, grinding her wet pussy against his face, removing his glasses only when they nearly fall onto the floor

"Bet you used that thing you were working on since months" she realized, arching her back at the feeling of the warm tongue of her colleague which kept lapping at her folds before thrusting in her needy hole, allowing his nose to press deliciously against her clit.

The figures kept showing up, making her moan in pleasure as the fear increased, tears started to run down her cheeks as her hips ground faster against Crane's face, her wetness dripping down his chin.

"It's impressive, I must say" the young woman breathed out, clenching her jaw as cold sweat runned down her forehead before nesting itself between her breasts "I did not expect you to be able to create something this s-strong" the mid praise left her mouth, echoing in Jonathan's empty head.

Damn... if only he would have been in the right set of mind and not pussy drunk or drugged by her. He sure would have cummed in his pants at the mere view of the pure fear in her.

"Fucking hell... you little—" her usual sensual voice came out rougher and exhausted before the annoying footstep of who they discovered was another colleague interrupted abruptly their passionate moment.

[hisonlyreid-er]

Our kitchen

Summary: Despite the horrors you both see in your job, the comfort of your apartment is a bubble away from the real world.

Warnings: a slight mention to cases involving gore, mostly fluff

Spencer Reid x fem!reader

“Whatever our souls are made of, his and mine are the same.”

Daily life was always a little different for you and Spencer. A normal couple may go on date night on Thursdays but for you, Thursdays are for catching serial killers in small towns. It may not be normal but it was just how it worked.

Having returned from a case yesterday, you and Spencer were allowed the day off today and decided to spend every moment of it attached at the hip. The day began with the two of you sat at the kitchen table. Spencer sat sipping his sugar with coffee while reading the paper and you sat nursing a mug of tea as you read the poetry book that has been waiting to be read for weeks. It was peaceful to just sit together, co-existing while doing your own thing.

The rest of the day was surrounded in a simple peace. You both went about your tasks, smiling as you crossed paths every once in a while. As you walked towards the kitchen to make lunch, you bumped into Spencer who was headed to the bathroom. His hand rested on your waist as you both looked at one another. " Fancy seeing you here." He smiled down at you. You released a little chuckle and stared at him with a goofy grin that you couldn't fight off anymore. "Such a coincidence Dr Reid." His eyes sparkled with love as he stared at your smile, never wanting this moment to end. He leaned down and pressed a small kiss to your lips while grinning before moving back. Just as you were about to move from his hold, Spencer gave a simple kiss to your forehead, his nose nestled amongst your hair. He took in a small breath through his nose and savoured the smell of coconut that was left from your shampoo. After standing there for a little while, you decided that it was time to carry on with your tasks and slipped from his grip. Walking down the hall, you were unaware of Spencers gaze following you as he stared with adoration adorning his soft feature.

The rest of the day flew by and now all that was left to do was cook dinner for the two of you. It was a task that you loved doing together. You both settled into your routine, Spencer began cooking the sauce while you boiled the water for the pasta. Everything as almost done when you let out a small shriek, hands gripped you from behind and pulled you back into Spencer body. He gave a slight chuckle and spun you round. You were so close that you could feel his warm breath fluttering against your cheek.

One of his hands left your body, reaching for something on the counter behind. All of a sudden music started playing from the speaker. The tempo was slow and the melody was soft. Spencer started swaying slightly with you still in his hold. He brought his face next to you ear, " May I have this dance?". You could feel your face flush a bright red at his words and all you could manage was a little nod. His hands became glued to your waist as your arms drapped over his shoulders, hands clasping behind his neck.

And you stayed like this for the duration of multiple songs, moving with one another to the music, staring into the eyes of the love of your life. In you entranced state, neither of you had noticed the pasta boiling over the side of the pot. You spotted in over Spencers shoulder and realised it had burnt. " Spence, the pasta.." was all you could manage before he turned his head and came to the same realisation. You released him and turned the gas off. Both of you looked at the ruined pasta and simultaneously burst into laughter. After deciding that it wasn't worth cooking anymore, Spencer suggested take out and you happily agreed.

You ended up on the couch, cuddled against his side with a box of pizza on his lap. Enjoying this moment was the priority because there was an understanding that you'd be called to deal with another monster soon enough, but for now this time was yours. For now, he was yours.

[rottenpumpkin13]

reverse wing au where only zack gets a wing

Don't ask me where this came from because I don't know

Zack but his body begins to degrade AU, flesh raw and red until bruised muscle beneath is visible, but the striking white wing protruding from his back is a glorious appendage, transforming something once plain and human into something seraphic. He’s now an angel, a wonderful hero doused by a blessing from the goddess, just like the angels in the fairy tales his mother read to him when he was a bright-eyed, hopeful little kid. The wing is grand, majestic, divine, allowing him to reach the sun—but he’ll never be Icarus, and he’ll never be the monster Genesis claims he is when Zack slides off the dining room table in Angeal’s apartment, where they had placed him screaming and bloody as the wing tore through the flesh in his back. The wing unfurls, and Zack gushes over his new limb—no, no, he’s an angel, and the wing is a gift, something good.

“Something useful,” he whispers desperately to Angeal, his hands gripping the older man’s shoulder as his mentor stares at the appendage, mouth agape and spirit doused in disbelief as he clutches the bloody tablecloth. “Something wonderful,” Zack says to Sephiroth, who watches the sticky liquid drip from the wet wing onto the floor in globules, running in thick rivulets toward his bare feet. Sephiroth stares down, then back at Zack, concerned, shaking his head as he says, “This isn’t normal.”

But what would Sephiroth know about normalcy, as if his very eyes weren’t reminiscent of the serpent who tempted purity with forbidden fruit? And what did Genesis know about monsters when all the books he read waxed about heroes and goddesses? But there are no apples, no snakes, and the only angel in the garden is Zack, and he’s fine. He keeps telling them, “It’s not degradation”—despite what Dr. Hollander claims. “It’s a transformation, and I’m fine.” He just has to ignore the agonizing sensation that won’t go away, no matter how much he tries to mollify it, that which no medication or compress can fix. He doesn’t need to be fixed; he can fly now, he can do so much more, fight so much better, be a hero, be an angel, be their knight, and save everyone.

Only Zack gets a wing AU but he’s still taking missions despite the chronic feeling that his body is dying around the wing, his skin rotting and spoiling like an animal carcass even though the white wing remains as immaculate as ever. And then Zack does fly a little too close to the sun—Icarus be damned, Zack knew what he was doing—and tempts trouble too hard. A nasty fall, a wing cramp because his body was degrading, and his wing was part of that body, unfortunately. He ends up in the medical ward once again to be treated, except Dr. Hollander isn’t there this time—Professor Hojo is. He’s grinning with excitement, thin bony hands clasped behind his back as he leans over Zack’s hospital bed and gifts him a file titled “The Jenova Project.” One read is all it takes, and suddenly Zack is no longer an angel.

His optimism shatters, and the boy who always wanted to be a hero has to make peace with the evil in his veins. Except there is no peace when lies and betrayal wall you in, locking you under a contract, a program, a rank, and a duty to fulfill. There is no peace when anger has set three inches deep into the skin that’s still degrading, even if it’s covered by the glorious white wing. So Zack chooses war, because even if he’s to die, he can still save Angeal from the degradation, save Genesis, tell Sephiroth the truth about what he is, and secure Cloud’s future so that he’s never touched by Shinra. He doesn't care what happens to him anymore. After all, angels only dream of one thing: to be human.

[according2thelore]

holy SHIT that excerpt was so good!!!!!! the elliott ness / hitler bit was hilarious. omg everything i ever could have dreamed and more…. inherent characteristic of dean of all ages is that he is a little shit, and also that he will kill himself for sam.

i also love that baby sam describes grownup sam as barely holding it together. i feel like hearing that would break older dean’s heart but older sam would really just take it as, like, yeah. a little bit true.

do you ever think of them interacting w other characters in this au? cas dropping by, or crowley or rowena or someone calling, lol. if this is set in an elongated season 11, lucifer would be horrific. or… hmm. I feel like claire would be funny, little dean tries to hit on her and she’s just absolutely disgusted.

omg omg omg anon i am kissing you kissing you kissing you kissing you thank you so much!!!!!!!!!!

and haha, thank you! it's so fun to see dean freak out in the moment about meeting his idols (dr. sexy, elliot ness) that i can only imagine how ES!Dean would react to the info that he would actually get to meet them one day! ES!Dean would lose his SHIT if he found out s1e1 that picking up sam from college would allow him to hit on daphne from scooby doo. could you fucking imagine??

LS!Dean would stare angstily into the distance about the "barely holding it together" comment but LS!Sam would say something equivalent to: "ha! yeah. fair enough."

in my idea of how this universe works, i think they would text all their friends a very clear do not come over!! leave us alone until we say it's okay!! we are safe!! personal business!! and everyone thinks they're having a crazy sex weekend, so they definitely do not want to come over. i think once we start adding more characters, this thing gets messy bc how the fuck are we going to explain to ES!Sam&Dean who JUST found out that vampires are real that their best friend is an angel and he also possessed his vessel's daughter claire, that's why she's here and also a hunter and also a child, say hi claire! huh? oh yeah this isn't cas's body, this is a guy named jimmy. no we don't think he's still in there. anyway. he was god for a bit but not anymore and hm? how? oh he ate a bunch of souls. because the king of hell told him to. no not the devil, the king of hell. who's the devil? well. funny story--

but hypothetically i can get down! i love the way your brain works!!! i think it's super fun to imagine all the characters interacting with these squeaky-toy versions of sam and dean who are even more insular and weird as the seasons go on. ES!Sam&Dean are so earnest! and excited! hypothetically speaking, i think it would go like this:

i have been harboring a secret little headcanon that sam and dean's souls look similar, since they're soulmates. to humans, they all just look like balls of light, but for angels or demons...

it makes me think about if cas pops by, he almost...doesn't notice? at first? it depends on the season, but if he's a full-graced angel, he sees the soul first, not the "vessel."

so he pops into the bunker, like "hello, dean. your soul is bright today. can i meet you and sam in the library?" and pops back out. and ES!Sam and LS!Dean are stood there, blinking. and LS!Dean is like. "well. fuck."

and when they all assemble in the war room, castiel looks back and forth between the four of them. for a minute and half of pure silence. "did you have kids?"

"identical kids?" LS!Sam asks, incredulous. "like spores?"

and castiel says "one second." and squints even harder and says. "oh. i see. there are four of you. why did you do that?"

and of course, LS!Sam&Dean are all, "did we do it? we thought someone--on your...ah. team. did this."

and ES!Dean's says, "who's this asshole? oh shit. is he blind? my bad."

"this is our best friend. castiel." LS!Dean says, trying not to laugh. "he has a...religious family."

"is this the friend that tried to be god?" ES!Dean asks, skeptically, and LS!Dean hits LS!Sam on the back of the head, hard.

"it's not my fault! he has big eyes!" LS!Sam says by way of explanation, like that means anything to anyone besides ES!Sam.

"it's very true." castiel agrees solemnly, and both sams trade a look about which thing cas is responding to.

ES!Dean and cas would get along like a house on fire, which is to say...the winchesters don't have a great track record with those. but ES!Sam and cas?? oh boy. best friend alert. if it slips that cas is an angel, ES!Sam is big-eyed, heart-thumping, breathless excited, which none of the other 3/4 are too jazzed about. cas is quite pleased. he preens like a peacock.

"why yes. my true form would melt your eyeballs, samuel." and ES!Sam is almost bouncing up and down in glee. cas never calls sam samuel, but he thinks it adds a biblical affect that ES!Sam clearly appreciates.

they have tea together.

read: sam spills boiling water over his hand while trying to make them tea and cas takes a great deal of satisfaction in healing it. by holding his hand.

read: LS!Dean kicks open the imaginary door of the kitchen like OKAY. THAT'S ENOUGH. HE'S A CHILD. DROP THE BABY.

~~~

crowley texts LS!Dean an ASMR video of someone reading threatening reddit comments (what fucked-up psychological warfare tactic is this??) and when ES!Dean sees the notification, he asks,

"who is the contact with the little devil picture and the...is that an egglant?"

"how did he change his name in my fucking phone? pizza hut. no one. what phone?" LS!Dean throws it across the room because he knows that without a shadow of a fucking doubt that crowley would unhinge his jaw and swallow ES!Sam&Dean whole if he got the chance. or at least desperately try to convince them into a threesome. 

there's no risk of that, but dean is NOT going to explain the 'king of hell' business, so he leaves it be.

~~~

maybe jody (that introduction actually goes smashingly) would bring claire around one day, and, yeah anon, you're right. ES!Dean is a limpet. he's pulling out all the stops. he leans seductively against the table in the war room. he winks a lot. he breaks eye contact coquettishly. claire is stuck between finding it amusing and being horrifically disgusted. she audibly gags when dean smolders.

claire starts to say, "you do know i'm--"

and ES!Dean cuts her off with a shit-eating grin, "if you're about to say your age, don't. i like plausible deniability."

and claire nods for a second before suddenly reaching out, grabbing him, and flipping him over her shoulder. she breaks a chair with his flying body. no one helps him up.

if anything, this makes her hotter, and ES!Dean sees LS!Sam get genuinely angry at him for the first time when he says so.

"back off, dean. i'm serious."

and ES!Dean gets so immediately, blindingly hard that he has to go sulk in his room for a minute or thirty or risk showing the exact shape of his dick to the room at large.

"yes sir. sammy. what the fuck? i'm gonna--" runs into the wall. "i've gotta. fuck. no-- i mean. hahahahahahahahah---" *fading into the distance as dean waddles awkwardly away*

~~~

(and hypothetically speaking, lucifer would be a fucking horror show. LS!Sam is literally covering ES!Sam with his body because didn't he get to ruin sam long enough? you don't get me any earlier. you can't touch him, i won't let you fucking touch him. ES!Dean can tell something is Not Good Bad Wrong Fucked and the sheer depth of terror, of trauma, scares the fucking shit out of him. he looks desperately to LS!Dean like a child looking at their father, can you fix this, how do we fix this? and no one has any answers. lucifer is obsessed. it's a nightmare.)

~~~

anyway, lol! i hope you liked! this one was super fun to think about! dean is always kind of a skeeze, but early seasons especially so lol. i think a lot of people would have a field day w that! and ES!Sam is so earnest and trusting!

thank you again for this ask anon! i always love hearing which part of fics/these posts are folks favourites! kissing you!

have a great day! :)

-lizzy

[kaylinalexanderbooks]

Find the word

Thanks @aziz-reads for the tag!

Rules: find the words given in your WIPs, then tag people with more words!

My words: frame, vain, stake, fix

Your words: refuse, beam, own, product

Softly tagging with no pressure @mk-writes-stuff @sleepywriter00 @nailamoonsi @somethingclevermahogony @eccaiia @bread-roses-and-chrome @gottestod-writes + anyone else

TSP intro

TSP tag list (ask to be +/-): @thepeculiarbird @illarian-rambling @televisionjester @finchwrites

Keep reading for:

Rose's home life (CW: neglectful parent)

Akash is happy Gwen pissed Carmen off

Robbie and Lexi meet

Debate about screen brightness

Frame - The Secret Portal Part One (Rose POV)

I let out a high-pitched grunt of annoyance before stomping off to my room. A part of me knew she was right. I should’ve brought my keys as a backup plan. She wasn't reliable anyway. As I opened the door to my room, I glanced back at my mother as she sat back on the couch, watching the telenovela that was playing. I turned away, slamming the door to my room behind me, hoping my mother would tell me I wasn't allowed to do that. But there was no correction. I tossed my backpack to the side harshly. It slammed into the wall and knocked a picture frame down to the floor. I bent down and picked quickly hung it back up so I wouldn’t have to look at my three-month-old self in my mom’s smiling arms as my smiling dad had his arm wrapped around her. My room was the only splash of color in this house—the only part of my house that deserved to be called home. My art supplies got their own shelf and were organized the way I want. My projects I kept in my sketchbook, which I never showed my mom. She didn’t like the way I decorated my room or any of my designs. She loved to tell me I needed to apply myself to school as much as my art. But even if I did apply myself more in school, she wouldn’t notice. I collapsed onto my bed and screamed into the pillow, then lay there for a couple of minutes, taking in the scent.

Vain Cocky (closest synonym) - from The Secret Portal Part One (Gwen POV)

I’d overheard Dr. Moon say something about “powers,” so maybe that’s what he meant. It sounded strange, but Akash was floating. Dr. Moon said that I could be showing “several” abilities, so that was weird, too. Did I have a power? Context alone indicated that. They didn’t see me…. My mind spun, so I looked back at Akash as I followed him down the next hall. At first, I thought he was being cocky and showing off his strange, supernatural ability, but that demeanor seemed only a façade—nothing more. Maybe flying was simply that fun. Or maybe I was distracted because he was cute, but I didn’t think I was that shallow. “So, Gwen,” Akash said, turning around to fly backward. “Where’re you from?” “Clear Lake City,” I said. “Texas.” Akash smiled. “Southlake. Up near Dallas. How cool is it we’re both from Texas?” I stared at him. “You’re not from here?” I didn’t exactly know where here was, but all the same, I could figure I wasn’t in Texas anymore. Akash stopped mid-flight, causing me to abruptly halt. “No. Dr. Moon and Dr. Asghar only take Alii from our side. Ceteri. That’s what they call it.” He raised his eyebrow. “Didn’t they tell you?” “No. They kidnapped us and locked us in this purple-glowing-thing. The dampener? Is that what you said?” Akash nodded. “What did they do?” Akash rolled his eyes. “Yeah, that’s how they got me and my buddy, Robbie. They’re actually okay once you get to know them. Questionable methods, but their hearts, I know how it sounds, are in the right place. Hey, what powers do you have?” “Powers?” I repeated. My thought was right. “Yeah,” said Akash. “You’re Alii, aren’t you?” “I have no idea what you’re saying,” I admitted. “What does Alii mean? One of the doctors mentioned that. Is it Latin?” Akash scrunched his eyebrows. “You don’t know? Dr. Asghar never releases anyone unless they’ve been briefed.” “Oh, I, uh, sorta escaped,” I stuttered. Akash stared at me. “You got away from them?” I nodded, and to my surprise, Akash laughed, clapping his hands together. “I knew someone would do it one day! Dr. Asghar must be pissed!”

(Mi)Stake - from The Secret Portal Part One (Lexi POV)

I grunted as a sudden force ran into me, knocking me to the ground. I yelped and scrambled out from underneath the person and clambered to my feet, trembling from the unexpected touch. “Am I that repulsive to you?” a teasing voice said. I turned to look at the person who ran into me: a teenage boy a year or so older than me. It took me a second to collect myself. “No,” I said as he stood. “It just… freaked me out.” The boy was about average height for his age and had a slim, but fit, frame. He had thick dark hair framing his face and big, dark eyes framed by wire-thin glasses. His hair was cut relatively short, but his bangs were somewhat long—parted on the right. He laughed. “Freaked me out, too.” He crossed his arms. “So… are you one of Gwen’s friends?” “You know Gwen?” I asked, standing in surprise. “What is she doing here?” “Sorta, I met her an hour… and maybe a half ago, I dunno what time it is—-passed out due to,” he gestured to the charred walls, “the explosion.” “Wait, are you Robert Stafford?” “No, actually, I’m Stobert Rafford—common mistake.” I blinked. The boy kept eye contact with a straight face. His mouth twitched. The delay stopped as I cachinnated—that was a fun word. The boy joined in. “Sorry, that was stupid.” “No, no, it wasn't,” I said as I tried to compose myself. “Yeah, it was, I’m laughing at my own joke.” “Okay, fine, it was stupid, but that’s why it was funny.” He smiled, dark eyes shining. “Finally, someone gets it!”

Fix - from The Secret Portal Part One (Akash POV)

SORARA’s voice announced the Recruits entering the door, and I instinctively fixed my cap to make sure it was on correctly. “—way too bright,” Lexi was saying as she turned the corner into the living room. “You’ll melt your retinas.” “I need to be blinded by the screen,” Gwen was saying. “If I’m not, it’s too dark.” “I’m starting to see why you needed glasses.” Gwen laughed, and her eyes landed on mine, now slightly obscured by new rectangular black glasses. I instinctively raised my hand to rub it through my hair but it ended up hitting the hat instead, pushing it slightly back. I tried to fix it again. Of course, Gwen’s new fashion statement looks cute while I look like the biggest dork on the planet. She smiled at me. I raised my hand in greeting. “Robbie!” Lexi said, snapping me back. “Let me see your phone!” “Huh? Okay.” Robbie shifted to reach into his pocket to pull out his phone. He handed it to her but she shook her head. “Just turn it on and show me the screen.” Robbie did as told, causing Lexi to laugh triumphantly. “Ha! That’s not that bright, and he wears glasses.” Gwen shrugged.

[coramatus]

Please inflict this idea upon us, I am extremely curious about why it’s a bad idea

Welp. Y’all are verrrrry curious!

I’ll just dump most of the brainstorming text here.

(It’s a bad idea bc it came from me 8’3)

Tl;dr: Ingo makes a deal with Reshiram and is reborn as a baby black Reshiram

Basically, Ingo gets royally screwed over and left stranded in Hisui, destined to die there without ever getting the chance to return to his proper place. Ingo isn’t happy about this but what can he do?

On a whim, he makes a heartfelt plea to whoever from his homeland can hear him to help him go home. He just wants to go home…

And something is compelled to respond.

Ingo is met with a bright flash of light and a strangely familiar roar. When the light clears, he is faced with a great white feathered dragon staring down at him. He is quick to bow in reverence, but the dragon tells him it won’t be necessary. It introduces itself as Reshiram, the Twin Dragon of Truth.

Because he is a child of Unova, Ingo is under its influence and it has a way to help him get back to his proper home. But seeing as how Ingo’s home is in the future, that method won’t be straightforward. Reshiram has no power over time itself; their only way forward is to go the long way. Of course, Ingo’s human body can’t be sustained for such a long time. Ingo will have to be changed, given a form that can last until the right time when said memories will be returned. A form that will be under Reshiram’s direct protection.

Ingo is unsure about this whole thing and asks for some time to decide. Reshiram obliges.

Initially, Ingo goes around Hisui asking for advice but he quickly realizes that if this is his only way back then he has to take it. His travels turn into him saying his goodbyes to everyone. Most are sad to see him go, but they know how much he’s wanted to leave.

In the end, Ingo returns to Reshiram and agrees. He asks what he’s supposed to do and Reshiram simply tells him to hold still. It leans in and bumps Ingo’s chest with its nose. Warmth washes over Ingo’s body and he starts to feel faint. Reshiram tells him to sleep, he will reawaken when it’s time. Until then, he should enjoy his new life.

Ingo tries to hold on but darkness overtakes him. Suddenly, he’s in a tight dark space. He tries to move but finds he doesn't have a body to move anymore. Any panic and fear quickly fizzle away as his mind fades to nothing.

Where Ingo once stood, his empty clothes fall into a pile over a large egg. Reshiram nuzzles the egg, promising to take care of him before sweeping the clothing and egg bundle into its grasp. With everything secured, it soars back to Unova, building a nest in a distant cave where it can brood over the egg.

Inside the egg, something that was once Ingo starts to stir. Any knowledge of what he once was sinks away into a locked and buried space. New ideas bubble up into his mind. The thought of soaring in sunny blue skies brings a sense of wonder and joy. The image of hot burning flames warms his heart. The knowledge that he is of dragons takes root.

For Reshiram, several years pass as its ward incubates. They are patient though, staying on the egg for months at a time, turning it over, and doting on it.

At long last, the egg finally starts to move, wriggling as its occupant starts to break free. Faint peeping can be heard as he calls out plaintively.

Reshiram gives the egg a rumbling nudge of encouragement and it starts to crack in response.

After several hours of struggling, enough eggshell is broken away to allow the hatchling to come tumbling out with a weak peep. He is a black, baby Reshiram, his feathers still not fully developed, his body weakly gasping and shivering.

‘Hello, little Ingo,’ Reshiram warmly welcomes him. It nuzzles the tiny black hatchling and the reborn Ingo flops against it in loving relief. A warm tongue bathes him as his downy black feathers dry and fluff up, allowing him to warm quickly. He soon falls asleep against his parent’s feathery fluff, exhausted but happy.

The first hundred years are busy, Reshiram teaching its child how to be a dragon. Ingo eagerly takes to his lessons even if he is a clumsy, peeping hatchling at first. He slowly grows into his body, his flight feathers developing, his wings strengthening. He learns to use his fire, burning a silvery-blue shade. He calls Reshiram both mama and papa and later on just ‘parent’. As he grows more confident in his body, Reshiram teaches him more of his inherent powers, showing him how to live among both humans and Pokémon by disguising himself. His human form is unsurprisingly identical to his past self’s appearance. He also learns how to attune himself to Truths and sensing lies. Lies don’t mortally offend him like his parent but he doesn’t like them either.

His first century is a blissful one.

Ingo reaches maturity at a hundred years. Though he’s ecstatic at being able to venture out on his own, it’s not entirely by choice. His parent tells him that they need to leave, they have a greater role to fulfill. But he should be ready for whatever the world throws at him. All he has to do is remember that when the time comes: he is Ingo, he has always been Ingo and that will never change.

Ingo doesn’t know what that means. Reshiram nuzzles him one last time and simply tells him it will fulfill a promise they made to him a long time ago.

With that, Reshiram flies away, leaving Ingo to forge his own path ahead.

Ingo spends the next hundred or so years simply living his life and having a great time. He observes Unovan society, easily taking on human guise and walking amongst humanity. He watches the development of trains and adores them (gets a job as a fireman at one point and his trains weirdly tend to run faster). He watches the rise of modern Pokémon battling and loves that too. Meanwhile, he builds up a bit of a reputation of being a big ol’ cryptid ‘The Black Reshiram’ and he thinks that’s hilarious.

As his proper time comes closer, he doesn’t really notice anything off. He never sees his past self or Emmet due to not being around Nimbasa much and not being able to access the Battle Subway (legendaries are banned after all lol) (took one look at the banned sign, went ‘aww man…’ and left)

He does see his past self’s missing posters and that is really concerning because uh… how is he missing and which human even knows he exists???

Several years after Subway Boss Ingo vanishes, the day comes. (Reshiram didn’t have an exact date so it gave itself a few extra years as a buffer.)

This could go several ways, but I’m a whore for angst so that’s where I went

Dragon Ingo is sent into an existential crisis.

Ingo is having a nice flight over the sparse desert when his old human memories slam into him like a Thunderbolt. Confused and terrified, he involuntarily shifts to human form, sending him crashing back down to earth. But he doesn’t care. He’s too busy trying to figure out who he is as he screams in horror, his mind melting down from the conflicting histories.

When he comes back to himself, Ingo feels like he’s been torn in half. He remembers and it’s the worst pain he’s ever felt.

And yet he has no choice but to move forwards.

Past Ingo didn’t remember his past life, leaving current Ingo to start picking up the pieces. He learns who Subway Boss Ingo was, his life and legacy before disappearing.

And he learns who Emmet is.

Ingo is terrified, but is inevitably drawn to Nimbasa and watches Emmet, feeling a strange longing pulling him to the man. But Ingo still doesn’t know who he really is anymore. He’s spent so long as a dragon, his past human life feels less consequential. And yet it’s part of him; it will always be part of him.

It’s in one of those moments of hesitation that Emmet spots him.

Their reunion doesn’t go well. Though Ingo tries to hide from Emmet, Emmet still zeros in on him and tries to hug him. But Ingo is still suffering from his identity crisis and freaks out, shoving Emmet off, begging him to leave him alone before fleeing. The sight of Ingo’s retreating back almost breaks Emmet. He’s so hurt and confused but he won’t let that stop him.

So he gives chase.

Their chase lasts for a while before Emmet ultimately tackles Ingo, demanding to know why he’s running, where he’s been, what is going on, etc.. Ingo can’t handle it anymore and throws Emmet off as he starts shifting back into his dragon form. Emmet is left to watch in terror as Ingo begs him to stay away, his fingers turning to claws, black feathers growing from his body, his teeth shifting to fangs. Where his brother once stood is a terrified black Reshiram, cowering from him, weeping. Emmet is at a loss for words and can only stare as the dragon takes to the air and flies away. For a long time, Emmet sits there in shock, unable to move as he struggles to understand what he just saw when a large black feather is blown to him. Emmet picks it up, examining the sleek feather. Something in him breaks and he crumples, cradling the feather as he cries. He apologizes to Ingo, begging him to come back. He misses him. He just wants his brother home again. A teardrop lands on the feather…

Ingo’s heart clenches in his chest. He can hear Emmet’s Truth. But he can’t respond. He’s too scared. He doesn’t know who he is anymore. He flies out to the desert, roaring mournfully as he collapses back into human form. He curls up in the dirt and cries.

The next day, Ingo is awoken by human hands shaking him. He opens his eyes to find unfamiliar people fussing over him, thinking him a lost hiker of some sort. They offer him food and water which he sluggishly accepts, still lost in his existential crisis. Then one of them recognizes him as the missing Subway Boss. Ingo tries to push them away to say that he’s not, he doesn’t know who he is, he wants to be left alone. But his rescuers are so kind and gentle with him that he can’t bring himself to do anything against them. So he reluctantly allows himself to be ushered into a vehicle and taken back to Nimbasa.

For Emmet, he’s ready to spend the whole week sleeping. He doesn’t understand what he witnessed yesterday, what he has undeniable proof of. He saw Ingo and Ingo saw him. But Ingo was afraid… and then turned into a dragon and flew away.

What is he even supposed to do with that?

His phone rings and he ignores it. It rings again and he still ignores it. And then it won’t stop ringing. Emmet gets fed up and answers, aggravated. The voice in the other line immediately tells him they found Ingo! Out in the middle of the desert, just laying there. Emmet realizes that is where Ingo went. But if he could turn into a dragon why didn’t he do that with these strangers and just fly away again? He doesn’t say this but tells them he’ll be in the hospital soon. He makes sure to take Ingo’s feather with him.

In the hospital, Ingo sits on an unused bed, allowing himself to be checked over by doctors. They’ve diagnosed him with amnesia, which isn’t wrong, but otherwise he has a clean bill of health. He still wants to be left alone, which is thankfully largely being respected. Until he’s told his brother is coming. Ingo realizes he can’t avoid Emmet forever and reluctantly acquiesces to Emmet’s visit.

When Emmet walks into the room, he’s disappointed but not surprised to see Ingo flinch from his entry. With a much quieter approach, he sits in a chair further away from Ingo and waits for him to speak first, not making eye contact. This approach seems to work better as Ingo slowly feels compelled to talk.

“E-Emmet…” Ingo whispers.

“Hi… Ingo…” Emmet responds softly.

Ingo isn’t sure how to respond. This is a completely different reaction from yesterday.

With clear movements, Emmet pulls out the feather.

“You… ah… left this. Yesterday,” Emmet says uncertainly. He holds it out, “Do you want it back?”

Ingo stares at it and shakes his head.

“May I keep it?”

Ingo considers this and nods quietly.

“Thank you,” Emmet smiles in gratitude, tucking the feather into his shirt pocket.

Silence continues.

“…why did you run away?” Emmet asks softly.

“It’s a long— I-I’m— I’m not… I’m… sorry…” Ingo stumbles, at a complete loss of how to explain anything. So he tells Emmet what he’s sure of: “…i don’t know who i am.”

“But your name—”

“Is Ingo… I know… but… I haven’t been Ingo the human in t-two hundred years…” he says, his voice fading to a quiet whimper, “That Ingo… he gave up his life… I’m just what’s left…”

“Is that why… the dragon thing?”

Ingo nods, starting to cry, “Your brother was sent to the past. He wasn’t allowed to come back. So he begged for help… My parent… I don’t know why they listened… They promised a way for him to survive the passage of time…”

Emmet starts to understand, “…and you were it.”

“He became me. And he… his memories were locked away. Until… until a few days ago…” Ingo curls up, his voice pained, “I’m sorry, Emmet… I don’t think I’m your brother anymore… I am so sorry…”

Ingo is openly sobbing, grief overwhelming him. Grief for the old Ingo, grief for Emmet, grief for the bond they once shared.

He doesn’t move when he feels the bed dip by his side. He doesn’t move when Emmet lays a gentle hand on his shoulder. He doesn’t move when Emmet gives him a soft side hug.

“Do you… want to be that Ingo again?” Emmet asks carefully.

“I don’t know…” Ingo whispers, shaking, “I-I want to… but I… I’m scared…”

Looking at Ingo, Emmet knows what he has to do. It will break his heart, but it’s the right thing. He rests a hand on Ingo’s back.

“You don’t… have to be that Ingo… if you don’t really want to,” Emmet says, tears welling up in his eyes. He’s letting go of his brother; he’s finally letting himself grieve. “I miss my brother. But I would never force you to be him. He wouldn’t want that either.”

Ingo says nothing, only crying in shame.

“And if you’re not ready… then I won’t force that either.” Emmet leans in and kisses Ingo on his forehead, hugging him once more. “I love you, Ingo. Whenever you’re ready… the door home is always open for you.”

Ingo sobs harder as Emmet stands up and leaves.

He doesn’t know what to do.

Emmet is heartbroken to leave Ingo behind, but his brother… or whatever he is… doesn’t want him. Not now anyways. All he can do is respect that and mourn Ingo properly.

A few days pass. Emmet finds some peace in the knowledge that his brother is dead. He’s starting to work on a memorial service when there is a knock on the door.

Emmet finds a despondent Ingo on his doorstep.

Ingo doesn’t seem to know what to say. So Emmet lets him in, tells him to sit anywhere. Ingo does so, looking distinctly uncomfortable as Emmet prepares some coffee for the both of them.

And the two talk…

(And this is about as far as I got so far. There’s probably more but we’ll see.)

[steveisagay]

How to fix the damage

Disabled munver

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 6.5 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9

Disabled Munver has taken over my life and I decided to write. I'm gonna do my best to do multiple parts and all of that happy bullshit.

Warnings: self-deprication, internalized homophobia, suicidal thoughts (you blink you miss it), not proof read so I have no idea what else

He couldn't even comprehend how much his life was falling apart, but he knew for sure it already did. Jason was dead one minute and waking up in the hospital the next. His girlfriend was murdered, but instead of it being the metalhead he was tracking down it was some other vessel apparently. He was in the hospital which sure sucked. But what was the worst was the fact that he was now paralyzed from the waist down. His parents told him that he was 'blessed' and how 'lucky he was to get out with such a small injury' but how was this small?

He lost everything, he couldn't play basketball, he lost a full ride scholarship, and he couldn't even go to the bathroom by himself. It did get slightly worse though, because Eddie was also in his hospital room. He wasn't visiting, his injuries were too bad for him to get off that easily, the two boys had to share the room. He would've thrown a fit about it if Eddie hadn't been so honest about the upside down and what happened to Chrissy. He also maybe was a kinda good storyteller.

His kids, well not his kids but the ones that visited, were somewhat nice. Although he had a feeling that the curly haired one didn't like him at all, and he knew for sure Lucas didn't forgive him for getting in his way. Jason could never forgive himself for all of everything that happened. It had to be his fault that it started, Chrissy started to grow distant and he should've said something but he didn't want to drive her away. Maybe it really was all his fault. Maybe he was being punished by God, for being a somewhat shitty boyfriend, for being...

That part wasn't true, he wasn't one of them. He wasn't like Eddie or, apparently, Billy. He dated Chrissy, he loved Chrissy. He'd be lying if he didn't say that Eddie was nice, and funny, and amazing with kids. Jason's parents asked him if he needed his own room but after hearing about the Upside Down and hearing how Eddie fought those bats he didn't want to leave. Eddie knew what he was doing incase something else happened and he couldn't really defend himself, you know, with his legs. Hell it'd be better if they just got ripped off, instead of him being ripped in half.

His stitches hurt like hell most days, but atleast he could still feel that area. With how stressed he was recently he didn't even know if he could, well, get off, properly. Everything always ached and himself and his parents refused to have him put on a morphine drip, so instead he was on 15 different medications. He wasn't allowed to keep any of his medicine on him while in the hospital per his therapist's request.

Jason had been going to physical therapy as well as normal therapy. His regular therapist, Dr. Linda, said that he had signs of depression, PTSD and anxiety. She also said that he should try to be less cynical. He wanted to say that she should try to be less optimistic. Most of their sessions were talking about his childhood, getting ripped in half, his (former) girlfriend, faith. Physical therapy was different though, it never helped the way he saw it. If it was really helping then he would have been able to walk by now.

The only thing that really kept him from hiding all of his pills everyday was Eddie, mostly. The only thing that kept him from clawing his skin until he couldn't anymore. He was always so bright whenever he got visitors, but Jason saw how exhausted he looked when everyone was gone. Jason and Eddie got closer than they would have ever guessed before all of this. Eddie saw Jason crying and unable to do almost anything without someone else, and Jason saw Eddie drained from a whole day of putting on a fake face.

A little while Jason's parents stopped showing up, and a little bit after that he learned that they left again. It didn't really hurt, it was just how it was, sure his parents were affectionate but that's just when they were home. His dad was a businessman and of course that was what he was supposed to be but... Nevermind it was stupid.

Jason was supposed to be sleeping, and if it wasn't for the lulling sound of Eddie's snores and the air being forced into his lungs he would've kept worrying. Jason had been worrying all of his life, but maybe he was fine getting some rest. It's not like his medication gave him any choice.

[confusinglovecore]

Tw: may be triggering for some people

Magical stars

Magical stars

Float around space

Their shiny and bright

And very kind

But their points scare the other

Planets away

All they want is Hug

Is that so much to ask

Eventually when the star gives up

It’s slowly starts to fade

Their brightness slowly dims down to the point

You can’t even see it anymore

It’s brightness fades to a colder tone

And finally they give up and explode

Only when that happens they start to get noticed

Was that all it took?

Was that all it took.. was that all it took

Oh please please please please please

The star begs

Turn me into a sun

So I’ll finally be noticed

Oh please please please please please

The star begs

Get rid of my pointy edges so planets

Will start to like me

Oh please please please please please

The star begs

I’m tired please just let me brighter like the other stars so then I’ll be normal and they won’t bully me

Oh please please please please please

The star begs

Make me less bright I just want some alone time and not to be around stars all the time

Oh please please please please please

The young star begs

I met this star in my school and I they keep touching me, please make them stop

Oh please please please please please

The star begged

Everything seems yucky and I don’t want to eat and I can’t sleep please turn me back to my old self

Oh please please please please please

The star begged

Please cure my illnesses it might kill me , I don’t want to die yet please make me healthy

Oh please please please please please

The star begged

Why do I always go back , the dr!gs are so addicting please make me stop

Oh please please please please please

The star begs

My mind keeps falling apart I find myself crying often I want everything to end, for I to explode , hurting myself won’t work please k!ll me

Oh please please please please please

The star begs

Just because I need extra time or do stuff different they view me weird please make me normal

Oh please please please please please

The star begs

Just because I can’t control my emotion sometimes doesn’t mean I’m a bad person right?,please make me less angry and able to control how I feel

Oh please please please please please

The young star begs

My daddy yells at me and I’m not allowed to do anything, I do all the house chores , take care of my siblings,also is it weird sometimes he hits me, I miss mommy she left please make my family happy again

Oh please please please please please

The young star begs

I want to go back home, a man promised me ice cream and never gave it to me and next thing I know I’m in a basement , I just want mommy please let me go home

Oh please please please please please

The young star begs

There’s a man in our school with a gun we’re currently hiding , I don’t want to die I don’t want to die, I have so much to see and do please let me live

Sometimes these wishes never come true and only once their gone people notice them

Otherwise they would have never been important and never noticed, left untouched

Only once they become a supernova people notice

Only then people start to care

But otherwise they’ll forever be wishing on a shooting star praying for their wish to come true

Is that what it takes to be noticed, to die?

There’s so much issues in the world that I can’t even go over all of them , even if people seem happy they could be suffering underneath and never tell someone and finally give up

We’ve all had issues before some get past them some don’t, some get helped some don’t.

We try our hardest yet still fail

It’s not bad to feel this way

Its natural

It’s valid

I know this might not help even though I’ve been here before (I still am) I thought I got better but it just fell down again even after failing I still hope to succeed I know you could try to . Atleast try. Whatever it may been , someone out there cares for you and if no one’s there then I’ll be the one to care

I may not be perfect but I’ll try my hardest to make you better I’ll try to make you see the value in life see what’s worth living, see why you should try atleast one more time and I’ll be at your side the whole process. I may be young but I’m here and always will be . I love you please live

You guys are the only thing keeping me alive so I’ll also be your reason( even if I haven’t posted people on the internet have saved me many times before) so now I’m that person for you.

Thank you , I love you all

-me

[jennay]

lonely

Request: Maybe brenner said something to the nurse or she saw something that made her upset. Peter comforts reader.

Word Count: 1100ish

A/N: Let me know your thoughts 💜

Master List

When you first arrived at the lab, you were excited to make friends and bond with people you'd be around daily for the following year. Still, bonding only happened with one person, and even then, you couldn't tell if you were only friends because of your situation or if you could leave the lab and still get along in the outside world.

Feeling lonely wasn't typical for you, but you felt it nearly every day for the last month. You missed your parents, your siblings, and your friends. You missed socializing with more than five people a day.

You weren't allowed to be around the children anymore; last time, you got an insight into how they were being punished, and not only did you completely lose your mind, but you're massive meltdown proved to Dr. Martin Brenner that you weren't cut out for that side of things even though your job title was nursing.

You weren't supposed to take breaks whenever you wanted but needed to find Peter. He was the only person who would be excited with you, and though he never showed many expressions, you knew he would at least give you one of his crooked smiles and a pat on the back. Human connection wasn't a regular thing here; your body craved affection today.

Opening the breakroom door, Peter is leaning against the counter and stirring sugar into his coffee. His eyebrow raises when you enter; he's attempting to dissect why you're smiling at him and in such a good mood when nothing exciting is happening.

"Hello?" He chuckles. "You're chipper this morning." Peter drinks his coffee, waiting for you to tell him your reasons.

"Tomorrow is the day!" You playfully shimmy up to his side, rubbing your shoulder against his. "I finally get to leave!" Your bright smile nearly shatters the glass windows, and you don't plan to let anything ruin your day.

Smirking, he sets his coffee on the counter and loosely wraps his arm around your shoulder. "I'm happy for you." He lies. "But I'll miss you." He clears his throat to get rid of any emotions in his voice.

"What was that?" You childishly nuzzle your face toward the crook of his neck. "Can you say that a little bit louder? I don't think I heard you correctly." You taunt.

He drops his arm from around you and steps back from you, his eyes deadening when you ask him to repeat himself. He didn't want to admit he was having difficulty with you leaving. He knew, more than likely, he would die here and never see you again.

"Fine." You stick your tongue out at him. "I'll miss you too, though." Your hand rests on his should, and you give him a light squeeze. You didn't expect him to be upset you were leaving.

The breakroom door opens, showing Brenner standing with files in his hand. He glances up, seeing your hand resting on Peter's bicep. You quickly drop your arm to your side and look everywhere but him. "I need you in my office." he points at you, and before words come out of your mouth, he has left, closing the door loudly behind him.

You dramatically shiver and rub your hands down your arms. "My heart drops every time I see that man."

Peter couldn't imagine how you might feel if you saw who he used to be before Martin made it impossible for him to use his powers. Would you think he was a monster?

"I guess I should go."

Peter nods, "I'll find you later and help you pack. I'm glad one of us is getting out of here." He opens the door for you giving you one last smirk before you leave. "Don't sign anything you haven't read. Read everything." He warns you.

You stop in your tracks, "I don't know that I read the entire contract when I signed it." You look around the hallways, suddenly feeling nervous. "I tried to, but he rushed me, and I needed the job. You don't think I signed something I shouldn't have, do you?"

He shrugs, "Only one way to find out."

You dreaded the walk to Brenner's office; it wasn't where you often found yourself. You stop in front of his door and lightly knock. It takes him no more than ten seconds to fling the door open. He waves you in as he walks back to his desk; he drops your file on his desk. "You're scheduled to leave tomorrow."

You sit down in the empty chair across his desk. "Yes, sir."

"I'm afraid I can't allow that." His lips press together, and he pretends to be sorry, but deep down inside, he doesn't give a shit about your feelings. "We lost our nurse in D2, and I need you to take her place. I'm sure you know per the contract that I can change your release dates if something like this occurs."

You feel like he punched you in the stomach. Your mouth drops, and you feel your eyes sting but refuse to let him see you cry. You will not cry in front of the monster himself. "Oh," You swallow hard. "How long will you need me?" You bite the inside of your cheeks and tap your foot against the concrete floor. You needed to get the hell out of there.

"Until we find a replacement, and with how things are going, that could be a few weeks or months. It's hard to say." He leans back in his chair, "Now go on. I'm sure you have plenty of work to do."

Lazily you slide out of the chair with slumped shoulders and tear-filled eyes. You walk out the door. You jog down the hallway until you reach your room. When you enter, you see Peter sitting on your bed.

His eyes are soft while observing you, "Shit," He mutters; things didn't go how either of you expected. "Come sit." He pats the side of your bed, and you do as you're told.

"I thought I was going home." You snivel. "Now, I don't know when I'll see anyone." You lean your back against the wall and look up at the ceiling to blink your tears away, but the moment Peter wraps his arm around you and drags you to his chest, your tears are no longer hidden, and you let it all out.

He rubs your arm, attempting to soothe you. He figured something like this would happen; Martin Brenner didn't let anyone leave. The only way out was death.

"I'm so sorry." His cheek lays on the top of your head. "Get it all out." He coos. "When we go back out there, no more crying; you can't let him know he's winning." Peter gives you one last tight squeeze before pulling away from you. He runs his thumbs under your eyes and wipes the puddles from your skin. He brings his lips to your forehead and gently kisses your soft skin; he quietly speaks. "I'll get you out of here one way or another.”

[possums6969420]

Ok, so, I saw this video by SCP Explained and if I'm being honest scenario 3 felt gay. So, here's my fanfic about it. Please don't reblog this post.

Edit: I made a part two

...............................................

The giga Chad made the mistake of looking at a picture with the SCP-096's face. He didn't realize the mistake of what he did, until he was at the gym. He was doing his normal workout, comforting his buddies after they hurt themselves working out. When a tall, pale, slender figure burst through the wall. When the figure, Shy Guy, saw the Giga Chad all his insecurities came out.

Of course, the Giga Chad had blocked any attacks SCP-096 tried to do. After, SCP-096 sat in Giga Chad's lap crying. Giga Chad was comforting SCP-096. A bit later, SCP-096 was smiling. He felt good. He stopped crying.

The MTF were confused when they saw it. They were shocked. Then, they put the bag over SCP-096's face and dragged him away. Giga Chad asked if he could come with him. They didn't see why, so Giga Chad came along with them. That made SCP-096 happy.

They got to site-19, safely. After SCP-096 and Giga Chad got to and in SCP-096's cell, they started to get confidence up. Giga Chad started with nice words. Then, he said some words of encouragement. Giga Chad tried his best to raise SCP-096's confidence.

They got into physical things when it appeared. They trained a lot. By a couple of weeks, SCP-096's body changed. So did his mental state. All because of Giga Chad.

During this time, Giga Chad and SCP-096 became friends. They just understood each other. SCP-096 didn't weep as much anymore. Giga Chad really did like to hang out with SCP-096. They really enjoyed each other's company.

With all the time that they were spending together, they, of course, started to catch feelings for each other. Of course, while working out, Shy Guy was looking at Giga Chad up and down, when Giga Chad wasn't looking. Giga Chad was doing the same to Shy Guy, I mean could you blame them. Either didn't want to admit that they were staring or liked each other. The foundation staff knew about it though.

The love in the air made the foundation staff cringe. They just wanted Shy Guy and Giga Chad to get together. So, the staff, on Valentine's day, made a party just for them. You could say it was a get together party. The staff were happy.

When the soon to be couple arrived, Dr. Bright, the one hosting the party, welcomed them. The party had everything Valentine's decoration you could think of. Shy Guy didn't understand Valentines, so Giga Chad explained it. They had a fun time at the party. Until the music started.

The two got pushed into the middle of the room. Shy Guy covered his face with hands but Giga Chad pulled them away. Giga Chad started to dance with Shy Guy. Shy guy smiled and went along with it. By the end of the party, the staffs' plan worked

Giga Chad and SCP-096 were together. SCP-096 fully didn't weep anymore. They were happy. The staff allowed it because of the improvement of SCP-096's behavior. It was a happy time at the foundation.

A while into their relationship, Dr. Bright and Dr. Clef made a little wedding for them. It was nothing to fancy, just something small. It was perfect, they loved it. They were so happy. After the I does and kiss, they live happy ever after.

[hannahthepalindrome]

Lipstick

Ever since I was little, I have been obsessed with lipstick. As young as five years old, I was enchanted by the bright reds, shimmery pinks, glassy corals–almost every color imaginable in a bottle, tube, or jar. By the age of nine, I had memorized the layout of Wal-Mart’s beauty section as I wandered the aisles, gazing at those forbidden tubes. From the sleek black of Revlon to the tempting gold of Milani to the bright, plasticky pinks of Hard Candy, the containers stared at me, tauntingly, seeming to ask “When will you put us on?” as I traversed the beauty section, imagining a future in which I would inevitably wear bright red lipstick every day of the week. 

When I was a child, of course, my mother would have never let me out of the house in real lipstick, so I had to content myself with lip balms. Lip Smackers–particularly Dr. Pepper, Coca-Cola, and Vanilla Malt–were my go-to. Every morning, I would slather my lips in synthetic flavor as I prepared to march out the door on my way to school. I knew that the balm was a weak substitute for the “real deal”, but I enjoyed the flavors and the grown-up feeling of the closest thing I had to real lipstick.

The next logical step in this journey? Lip gloss. My mother finally decided it was fine for me to wear the little kid stuff, and I was thrilled. I loved lip gloss; it was essentially lip balm, but with a much more sophisticated shine (or so I told myself). I wore it all the time…at least, when I had it. I ran out fast due to overuse, and it was usually a while before I got more, so I figured out pretty quickly that I should continue to use my Lip Smackers for “everyday use” and only wear the grown-up gloss on what my young brain deemed “special occasions”. This worked fine, and I was somewhat content to simply wear gloss and lip balm, but I think even then all that I really wanted was a bright red lipstick. As I became a middle schooler, my mom allowed me to wear her plain, nude lipstick occasionally when we went to church, though the color was never as bold as I would have hoped.

Finally, in seventh grade, the day came. While taking me shopping for basic makeup in the fluorescent aisles of Wal-Mart, my mom casually agreed to let me wear lipstick every day. I tried to stay collected as the little girl inside of me squealed and jumped for joy. Laughing at my excitement, my mother selected a more “everyday” color for me: a soft, rusty reddish-brown called Rum Riche. That was the first official lipstick in my now-expansive collection that contains every color I can get my hands on, including my beloved bright red.

The cool-toned bright red in question–Russian Red by MAC–is my current choice whenever I need a pick-me-up, or when I just want to feel fancy. I don’t wear it as often as my other shades, but the compliments abound when I do. Just last week, my gym teacher told me that she loves it when I wear bright red lipstick, because “No one expresses themselves anymore–it’s nice to see young people doing their own thing.” I love this, because to me, that is what lipstick is: an expression of the self, worn proudly on the face. In fact, it is unlikely that you will ever catch me without a colorful product of some sort on my lips, and I wouldn’t have it any other way. 

[vacantgodling]

for the shipping ask game: thoughts on hanzo/cassidy (had to do it, i had to be the one), lucio/genji, and symmetra/pharah! >:)

VALEN BELOVED :’)

haha let’s start with the og brain rot

HANZO/CASSIDY

1. What made you ship it?

to be perfectly honest it was one of those “haha it would be funny if they were together” and now like… 6-7 years deep now 💀 i remember when overwatch first came out people started drawing hanzo and cassidy together and the idea of a cowboy and a samurai was just instant brain juice and they’ve been my number one long running otp ever since despite all the bs blizzard and ovw has put us throughhhh. tbh i’m probably gonna die shipping them fjfjfj

2. What are your favorite things about the ship?

in no particular order:

grizzled older men with dark pasts with a load of trauma — mainly separately. bc this allows them to understand each other even if their experiences aren’t entirely the same

their individual personalities and the potential for them to mesh and make each other better

they both are more similar than either of them gives each other credit for

the physical aspect of their relationship like Goddamn. they are Hot and i like to see them fuck 😌

3. Is there an unpopular opinion you have on your ship?

umMmM ig my unpopular opinions are like… i just genuinely dislike whenever people paint cole to be stupid or just jovial and the sunshine to hanzo’s gloom without specifying that cole can be just as dark and depressed as hanzo can be. i also dislike whenever people make out hanzo to be a prude LMAO i barely see that as often anymore. and thankfully the weird fetishization of hanzo being asian has highly died down in the community but when people first started shipping it you can just Tell which people were into hanzo bc he’s asian and tried to like… make him into that weird shit.

LUCIO/GENJI

1. What made you ship it?

i will preface this by saying that once baptiste was introduced that my love for this ship kind of died down drastically. i still think lucio and genji is a cute ship and Can Work but it just doesn’t hold as much weight to me bc i think bap and genji are just closer in values and in those particular stages in life & whatnot. it was hard for me to figure out if i should answer the ship questions or not ship questions bc i kinda do kinda don’t as much anymore LMAO. however, i initially shipped it because lucio’s brightness and energy i feel like would be good for genji. genji has spent a lot of his time in contemplation and meditation to accept who he is but in doing so he’s kind of lost part of himself imo—he’s lost the part of him that made him genji shimada in the first place. in hanzo’s case he needs to have someone introduce him to it; so someone on the same level as him who has a different outlook on life. but genji needs someone to remind him! that he is a fun loving guy, that he is a partner a go getter etc etc. all the things the clan hated.

however going back to my initial thing about baptiste, something i was talking with my partner about yesterday is just the fact that even if you want to return to the past, you can’t, but you can take inspiration from it. and i think for some reasons lucio & genji’s relationship i can’t see working as well as i used to think JUST BECAUSE i think genji is beyond the point where he can return to the past but he can be reminded of it. but lucio is very reminiscent of the man he used to be? in certain ways? you see it in certain interactions that genji and lucio have—even though lucio has been through shit he’s still so Young. 26 and 35 is a significant age gap especially given the shit that they dealt with in life; lucio faced adversary and triumphed and genji’s nearly broke him. and growing up and having my own life experiences i don’t think i’m as optimistic??? as i used to be lol. but i think genji similarly to hanzo kind of needs someone similar to him and bap is that person.

dude this turned into a whole rant about this but tl;dr i used to ship lucio and genji because i was optimistic and then life happened and now i’m more of a realist fjfjfjfj i deadass think i’m just gonna leave this at that.

SYMMETRA/PHARAH

1. What made you ship it?

i got irritated seeing pharamercy. sorry i just hate every mercy ship 💀 i’m a mercy main but i hate that bitch sorry. cough. but i kept seeing people ship it and i hated how the whole thing was so centered around pharah being just a bumbling idiot around mercy and i don’t feel like they have anything in common aside from a sense of hero worship perhaps. firstly, symm and pharah being slightly closer in age (there’s a gap but still) and having similar values and intricacies meshes much better to me. i mean basically, pharah and symm are both autism coded PFF. like i know symm canonically is but idk pharah is to me too cuz like both of their preferences for rules and rigidity and somewhat black and white thinking when it comes to the organizations they put their trust. the way both of them are logical, but do have things that bring them joy. i think pharah can help symm come out of her shell and i think pharah would enjoy having someone she’s on equal playing level with and someone who understands why she holds her values and loyalties in the way that she does. symm would be the only one who gets Her. so that’s why. but initially, spite.

2. What are your favorite things about the ship?

mainly just how their emotional and mental chemistry meshes. i can’t understate how IMPORTANT it is and how FREEING and RELIEVING it is to have someone just get you.

3. Is there an unpopular opinion you have on your ship?

ehhhh tbh i don’t have many? i don’t actively ship symm/pharah like AGGRESSIVELY but i do think they’re cute and include them in my overwatch fics. so i haven’t seen anything that would make me go Uh No. about people shipping them cuz i just don’t care that much 😭

[bluestar22x]

Chapter 9: Connection

Alien Son - Chapter 9: Connection

Series Masterlist

Series Summary: Unbeknownst to him, Cade was a product of an experiment with the goal of raising a super solider. Saved from that fate by his adoptive parents, he is still hunted. Eventually, as it always does, his past catches up with him, though now there’s another plan for him, one he could’ve never imagined.

With the help of friends, Cade must escape his captors again, resuming his life on the run in hopes of finally ending it once and for all, before another generation of his family line has to suffer the consequences.

Rating: 18+ series (explicit content, sensitive topics)

Chapter Word Count: 1,500(ish)

Series Warnings/General Info: Science fiction, mpreg (due to fictional science), violence, angst, hurt/comfort, fluff, friendship (found family), romance (male x female), eventual love scene, violation of autonomy (by the antagonists), cloning, inter-species relationship (sort of - Cade is part human/more human than not), xenophobia, alien super human abilities

— Don’t like, don’t read or comment! —

xxx

Dr. Harris wasted no time taking Cade’s vitals and nudging him towards a scale so she could plug the information into a tablet she’d placed on a table in the farthest corner of the room.

He’d gained three pounds since the beginning of his lockdown, despite how little of an appetite he’d had recently compared to normal, and despite all the puking he’d done.

Guess all that sleeping helped keep me out of the red, Cade mused silently.

Dr. Harris directed him to the exam table and he laid back on it as the Men in White approached to free him from his chains. “Don’t get any bright ideas,” one said. Probably Francis. Or was it Frank? Who cared? He was a Man in White. Their names didn’t matter to him anymore than he mattered to them.

“Yeah, or we’ll tranq you,” his partner added.

“What’s in those things anyway?” Cade questioned, having been stumped over it ever since he'd been captured. “Darts don’t normally work that fast. This isn’t a movie.”

“One of my many discoveries,” Marquis told him. “And I’m not yet ready to reveal it to anyone I don’t intend to kill immediately after.”

Cade raised his eyebrows at the answer and placed his hands on either side of himself. He allowed Dr. Harris to lift his shirt to the edge of the southern tip of his sternum and watched as the doctor squeezed some gel onto his abdomen before pressing the ultrasound probe lightly against the skin just below his belly button. As Dr. Harris slowly rocked the probe back and forth to properly examine the area, he couldn’t help but stare at the shadows on the screen beside the examination table, curiosity piquing.

“Do you see anything?” Marquis eventually asked Dr. Harris, his patience waning.

She nodded and pointed out a distinct whitish gray blob on the screen with a roughly round section, followed by a thinner but longer portion. “That’s the head and body.”

Cade's eye twitched as he watched her index finger trace it out and it felt like he'd been robbed of air. It was as if time momentarily stood still as he studied the outline of his clone for the first time, transfixed.

As he did, an overwhelming number of emotions coursed through him, many he couldn't name in his confusion over it, but mainly he felt disbelief and wonder. Emotions that left him shaken. He swallowed hard, trying to keep them under control as he gaped at the image before him, unable to do much else as he tried to process it all.

“Can the heartbeat be picked up yet?”  Marquis inquired.

In answer Dr. Harris turned up the ultrasound machine’s volume and quick thudding sounds resonated from the speaker.

“Fantastic,” Marquis commented, sounding more like a mad man than usual. Cade barely registered this though. He was too focused on the ultrasound screen. Too stunned and absorbed in his thoughts about this pregnancy and what it meant for him. It suddenly was all too real.

“How fast is it?” Marquis inquired.

Dr. Harris shrugged. “Very fast. Maybe two hundred beats a minute. One-sixty is the high end of the norm for human fetuses, but with this one, it seems normal. At least that’s what I got from the file on Mara’s pregnancy.”

“I can’t believe this is actually working,” Marquis murmured, pleased. “The womb is still in its appropriate place?”

Dr. Harris nodded. “It is, but only time will tell if it will stay that way as the fetus grows and he gains weight.”

“Still, this is promising?” Marquis asked.

Dr. Harris nodded again. “Very.”

Marquis grinned and patted her shoulder. “Alright then. Drinks on me tonight, doc.”

Dr. Harris flashed him a proud smile and switched off the ultrasound machine, hanging up the probe and taking a quick swipe at Cade’s lean stomach with a plain paper towel to remove the ultrasound gel that was left behind after. “I’m holding you to that, Marquis.”

Marquis beckoned the Men in White over to Cade’s side and they secured his hands in chains once more.

For once Cade hardly paid any attention to them. He was too busy staring down at his flat abdomen. Saying he was in shock was an understatement. He couldn't quite comprehend the fact that there really was a clone version of himself in there. It shouldn’t have shaken him so much, not after everything he’d been told and put through, but it was now clear to him that he’d been in some kind of denial the past couple months over his situation. The ultrasound left him unable to deny it any longer, and that in turn caused him to be more conflicted than he’d ever been in his life.

His thoughts were still on his clone when the Men in White shoved him back into his room and the door slammed shut behind him, snapping him out of it. He sighed heavily as he scanned the room, forlorn again as he wondered how many weeks it would be this time before he got to leave it again. He hoped it wouldn’t be more than a few days this time, but deep down he knew that was wishful thinking. Despair tightened its grip on him once again.

Listlessly, he climbed onto his cot, back to the door, and bent his left arm under his head before beginning to lazily draw imaginary circles on the wall just to have something to do.

He wished for the millionth time in his life that his parents were still around, and for the hundredth time that Kamilah was too. He felt more alone than he’d ever before, even more than when he had to run after his parents were murdered.  

It was in that moment of dejection that it dawned on him. He may have felt alone, but he wasn’t. Not really. Not anymore.

His eyes were drawn to and fixed onto his lean stomach as he thought about the image of the fetus on the ultrasound screen, a well-defined shadowy figure shifting around in a sea of shadows. His clone.

He felt a spark of his spirit being rejuvenated thinking about it. No, he wasn’t alone. Before his time at Pena Corp that might have not comforted him, but after everything he’d been through, it did. Any kind of connection was better than none. But it wasn’t as simple as being desperate to cling onto any kind of human connection. There was more to it. Something instinctual. The truth was, he couldn’t help but care about his own flesh and blood, even if things were complicated.

Cade partially opened and closed his mouth before swallowing hard again. He found himself thinking of Mara. Had she ever had a moment like this? A moment when she realized he meant something to her? He hoped she had, for her sake.

He’d known for a long time how it felt to want nothing more than for his body to reject the cluster of cells multiplying inside him, and for that to be one of the few things he wished for on a daily basis. But his clone wasn’t just a cluster of cells anymore, and lying there on the cot that day, all thoughts on the ultrasound image, Cade’s perspective on his situation shifted significantly.

His misery was because of Marquis and his staff. No one else. They had violated his human rights. No one else. And his clone was as much their prisoner as he was. As much subject to their greed and barbaric curiosity as he was. They were already bonded in many ways, not just the most obvious one.

He pushed away his thoughts on the corporation to mull over his clone and how tiny he was, and his lips curved into a brief smile he was unable to hold back. Softened, he looked back down at his still flat belly and lightly spread a hand out on it, in a fond manner. For the first time since Nurse Lane had taken over as his caretaker, he felt some degree of happiness.   

It was quickly dampened when it occurred to him that this change of heart he’d had towards his clone wouldn’t make anything easier for him emotionally. At least not in the long run. Ultimately, it could lead him to an even darker place in his mind than he’d been in the last few weeks.

Because when the time came, if he didn’t manage to escape by then, his clone would be stolen from him, and he would likely never see him again.

Cade chewed his lip raw over his troubling insightfulness and resumed tracing invisible circles on the wall with the hand that had previously been under his head, picking up the pace, determined not to let his mind linger on that very real possibility. His other hand remained at his waistline.

“We’ll get out of here,” he murmured to his clone, determination in his voice.

“Someway. Somehow.”

xxx

Series Masterlist

xxx

[samgirl98]

This is purely an indulgent fic for me, so it might not be the best of my work. TW: Mentions of murder, blood, death, and injuries

Blood Sons 1/1

Maddie stared in horror at her baby sister’s cooling body. Her throat had been slit ear-to-ear, her blood pooling around her.

Maddie and Jack had come running when Marie called her, frantic, raving about how someone was after her and…

“Danny.”

Maddie looked in the nursery and found her newborn nephew with a stab in his little chest. What kind of monster would do this to a child? She felt like breaking down crying. Maddie lost her sister and nephew in one day, and all because she had been too slow.

“Mads, he’s still breathing,” Jack said.

Maddie felt a bit of hope blossoming in her chest, and she squashed it ruthlessly. She had to get Danny to a hospital.

“We have to call 911. We have to—”

Right in front of her eyes, the little chest stopped moving. No. NO! She would not lose her nephew. The only thing she had left of Marie. In a crazed desperation, Maddie took the ectoplasm from her pouch and poured it into her nephew’s mouth.

“Maddie, no, what are you doing?”

“What I have to,” she answered.

At first, nothing happened. Then the wound started closing and finally, finally, her little nephew started crying loudly. She never thought she would love to hear the sound of a newborn’s piercing cries, but here she was. She picked Danny up and started rocking him and singing to him.

“How is he? Is he—” is he normal? Is he alive? Is he a ghost now?

Jack wanted to ask, but seeing the desperate look in his wife’s eyes and how she held the little newborn, Jack couldn’t bring himself to ask the questions. Seeing her carry Danny made something blossom in his chest. He would protect both his wife and Danny.

It seemed he had a son now.

16 years Later

Danny couldn’t do it anymore. The lies, the responsibilities were slowly taking him to a second death. Now, he had just been told he was to be crowned the Ghost King as was his right by conquest. (The sarcasm was heavy in his last thought.)

He had to tell his parents the truth. He felt he was drowning.

Danny left the portal invisibly and passed through the ceiling until he reached his room. He rubbed the scar on his chest. (One his parents never told him how he got, even if he could guess after hearing what happened to his birth mother. He didn’t know how he had survived…)

Danny packed a little bag and stuffed some money into it just in case the reveal went wrong. (Better safe than sorry.) Thankfully, he had been saving money and had a little over three thousand dollars. Plus, Tucker had opened him a bank account under an alias. He had gotten him fake IDs and birth certificates.

Sam had deposited a certain amount from her ridiculous allowance in the bank account. If push came to shove, he could run to the Ghost Zone; he was the ruler of the place, after all.

Ancients, he was a fucking king.

“No, don’t think about it, Danny. Break down later. Tell parents the truth right now.”

Danny opened the group chat and pre-typed ‘Code Black Out’ in case things went south. Code Black Out would ensure that Tucker would release a virus destroying everything the Dr. Fentons had found out, while Danny would do his best to destroy as many weapons as possible and the portal.

Danny wouldn’t tell his friends and sister that he would tell them the truth; they would try to talk him out. He hadn’t even told them yet that he had discovered he was the new King of the Infinite Realms.

Danny wanted his parents. He wanted them to take part in the responsibility and tell him everything would be fine. Danny wanted their comfort and acceptance. He took a deep breath and walked down to the lab.

His parents were busy looking over some blueprints for some new invention.

Danny took a deep breath, “Mom, dad, there’s something I have to tell you.”

____

Wayne Gala, Gotham, One year later

Damian had a killer headache. He was mildly concussed, and every little noise and the bright lights made him feel sicker and sicker. Unfortunately, as it was his birthday, he had to attend the insipid gala. (At least it was for a cause he could get behind.)

Still, he was the son of the Bat, the heir to the mantle and heir to the Demon’s head; he could handle a slight headache for one night. Damian gritted his teeth as his father clinked a glass of champagne.

“Ladies and gentlemen, I welcome you to this gala in support of the shelters of Gotham. I want to propose a toast. To Damian Wayne, my youngest, who wanted to celebrate his eighteenth birthday by helping creatures less fortunate.”

“To Damian,” the crowd called out. His head throbbed at the yell.

“Was that really necessary, father?” Damian asked, trying to ignore the headache, “it was pointless and caused my headache to become a migraine.”

Bruce frowned, “I’m sorry, son. You know it would’ve been expected at an event like this. We could leave early if you want?”

Damian waved away the suggestion and discreetly drank two pain meds. The room was spinning a little, but he didn’t tell his father lest he worried needlessly.

Richard and Timothy walked toward them after they had mingled with the crowd. They looked cheerful, but Damian could see the tightness in their eyes. It was typical for Timothy to hate these types of events (as most of them did; actually, everyone but those three had been able to avoid coming to the gala, and Damian envied them.), but Richard loved causing problems during the gala, always looking for attention as Richie Grayson.

“What’s got you in a mood, Richard?”

“How are you feeling, baby bat? Dizzy, queasy, do you need to leave?”

Aw, Richard was worried about Damian.

“Tt, I’m fine, Richard. It’s just a little bump. If there’s anyone we should worry about here, it should be Timothy.”

Timothy glared at Damian. He looked dead on his feet and swayed a little. Damian knew Timothy wished the flute of champagne in his hand was a cup of coffee instead.

Richard interrupted when Timothy was about to open his mouth and say something stupid.

“Mansons at 12 o’clock.”

They all groaned. The Mansons were annoying, always trying to find a way to climb the social ladder by pawning their 17-year-old daughter toward anyone in her age range. Thankfully, the girl was nothing like her parents and cared for animals, but Damian found dealing with her parents draining. With his concussion, it would be grueling to listen to their vapid chatter.

There was a boy with dark hair shuffling behind the Mansons.

“Heh, Samantha’s plus one looks a bit like Bruce. Maybe dad has another hidden son,” he teased while elbowing Bruce. Bruce frowned at his oldest, “That’s not funny, Dick.”

“And not possible. I’m the only blood son.”

Timothy snorted; how unbecoming.

“Demon spawn, you are literal proof that accidents happen.”

If Damian hadn’t been concussed, he would’ve kept silent. However, his brain-to-mouth filter had been shot, so he said something he swore he would keep secret.  

“That's impossible. Mother killed all the other potential blood heirs and their mothers.”

It wasn’t until his father stilled that Damian understood what he said. His eyes widened in fear as his father yelled, “TALIA DID WHAT?”

Everyone stopped and stared at their father, even the Mansons. Their daughter, Samantha, used the opportunity to loosen her mother’s grip and disappeared into the crowd with the boy that had been following them.

Now that Damian had gotten a good look at him, he did look like his father.

Damian let himself be herded into his father’s study by his brothers and Bruce.

“Tell me everything now, Damian.”

Damian rubbed his temples; the headache was now a migraine.

“I didn’t want you to know because I saw no point. The deed was done; I didn’t want you hurting or feeling guilty,” Damian whispered.

“Baby bat, please, tell us.”

Damian sat down and looked anywhere but his father, “Mother wanted me to be the blood heir to the Bat, the only heir. She tracked down any woman you had relations with, father, and if they had offspring. Well,” Damian took a deep breath, not wanting to say the next thing, “She disposed of the woman and child.”

Silence rang through the room. It was broken by Pennyworth opening the door.

“Masters, is there a reason you left the gala unattended,” Pennyworth asked; there was no judgment in his voice.

“How many, Damian? Do you know how many she—how many she killed?” His father asked.

Both Richard and Timothy looked green and saddened by the news. Damian felt a pang in his heart. He consciously tried not to think of the siblings his mother had killed. After all, what was past was past; best to leave it there. It was his stupid fault that his family now had to carry that burden, too.

“I don’t know. Mother never gave me a number of how many she—disposed of. She just told me that I was the one and only true heir to the mantle of the cowl. I didn’t think much about it until I got here. Now I wish—I wish I had gotten to know those siblings. I wouldn’t mind sharing.”

“Why did you never tell us, Dami,” Timothy asked.

“I didn’t want to burden you with the knowledge. After all, it happened. I thought it would be kinder to let you live in ignorance.”

His father turned his back to Damian and looked out the window. He was brooding.

“That wasn’t your call to make, Damian. I think I deserve to know of the children I have lost.”

Bruce turned back around, and Damian flinched at his father’s unshed tears.

“I have to investigate. I must find out how many she—” a sob left his father’s throat.

“Master Bruce,” I think it’s best I tell the guests you and the boys have decided to have a little celebration away from them so you can calm yourselves down.”

“Yes, thank you, Alfred,” his father whispered.

The small family stayed in the study for an hour before returning to the gala. Somehow, they had been able to fake it the rest of the night.

Unknown to the rest of the family, Tim got hold of a glass Daniel Fenton had drunk from. The kid looked too much like Bruce, and he had to be sure. After all, crazier things had happened.

Two days after the gala

Bruce had been searching for Talia for the past two days. She didn’t answer Jason’s or Damian’s calls. To say Bruce was angry would be an understatement. If his anger were to take form, it would be an unyielding sun hurtling toward Talia.

It wasn’t only anger.

He felt overwhelming grief for all the children he had never known about, for the lives they and their mothers lost because they had the misfortune of meeting Bruce Wayne.

By now, all his living children knew what Talia had done. They were all rabid and out for blood. How dare Talia take a sibling, let alone multiple from them? How dare she put it on Damian’s shoulders and have the youngest among them carry that burden all this time?

Jason was the most livid of them all. He had always had a soft spot for children, and to find out that some of his siblings had been killed just for being born? Well, Talia had better never show her face to him again.

Dick hadn’t left the manor and stayed behind his father, making sure the man didn’t lose himself in his brooding. Tim and Cassandra had both stayed silent. Duke had an air of melancholy around him, and Stephanie used the punching bag more often and also used her room in the manor. Even Alfred, ever the pillar of the family, had become dispirited. He didn’t quip and went through the motions of caring for the household.

Damian had seldom left his room since he revealed what his mother had done. He felt ashamed of the part he played.

(He may not have killed his siblings directly, but his birth caused their death.)

____

Barbara was busy looking for information on the children when Tim called her.

“I did something without telling Bruce, and now I don’t know how to tell him the results,” Tim frantically told her.

“Calm down, baby bird. Start from the beginning.”

Tim took a deep breath, “Remember that kid we told you about? The one started this whole debacle?”

“Yeah.”

“Well, I was suspicious. He looked too much like Bruce. I took one of his used glasses and ran a DNA test.”

There was silence.

“Tim, what did the test say?”

She knew, though, there was a reason Tim was frantic.

“Bruce is the father,” Tim said before laughing a bit manically, “One of our siblings survived, and I have no idea how to tell dad!”

____

In the end, Barbara found four kids. Only one of them was still alive.

Daniel James Fenton. Biological mother, Marie Rebecca Johnson, had been found brutally murdered in her home, and her newborn son with a chest wound. (Somehow, the child had survived.)

His biological aunt and her husband had adopted him. When he was fourteen, he was in a lab accident that left him with a weakened heart.

(It wasn’t weakened, but they didn’t know that.)

Daniel would turn eighteen in three months. Damian had a younger brother.

Bruce stared at the photo of Marie Johnson. He remembered her; she had been a flight attendant he had had a fling with.

He clicked toward the next tab.

Daniel looked a lot like Bruce, down to his baby-blue eyes. He had his mother’s nose and the shape of his mother’s lips, but everything else was undoubtedly Bruce.  

Bruce had no idea what to do. He wanted to meet his son so badly (his youngest), but he didn’t want to pop up into Daniel’s life and turn it upside down.

Besides, he looks happy with his current family; he thought as he looked at the photo of the Fentons.

“Father,” Bruce turned to look at Damian.

“Yes,” he asked, no emotion in his voice.

His youngest, no, his second youngest, flinched.

“I finally found out where mother is. It’s not, well, it’s not pretty.”

It turned out that a few months ago, Talia had been attacked. She wasn’t dead but in a coma that not even the pits could heal.

“Why did no one tell me,” Damian demanded to Talia’s servant, “I am her son. I deserved to know.”

Bruce stared at Talia’s prone form. This woman who had given her Damian had also taken a lot from him and was now still. She looked like an innocent person while wires and tubes adorned her body. He couldn’t ask her why. Bruce couldn’t shake her and demand she bring back her children. He couldn't take out his grief and anger on her. Not at the moment, not if she didn’t wake.

(Bruce didn’t know that his youngest was connected to the dead, and the dead always demanded retribution. So, when the King of Ghosts was petitioned by his deceased mother to get revenge for her, he listened.

However, he hadn’t wanted that vile woman anywhere near his kingdom. So put her in eternal sleep. A sleep that was helped because of her time spent in the Lazarus pits. She wouldn’t die, but she had no chance of living.)

On Damian’s instance, Bruce transferred Talia to a private hospital so Damian could visit her. As much as he wanted to deny this request, Bruce knew he couldn’t say no to Damian. Evil as she was, Talia was still Damian’s mother.

____

“I got it,” Danny yelled as he opened the door.

A few months before his eighteenth birthday, Danny met his biological father.

Danny had no idea what to think of Bruce Wayne. He had only seen the man in magazines and news articles. The only time he had seen him in person had been a few weeks ago at a gala Sam had forced him into going.

Now here he was in his living room, talking to his parents.

“I know it’s a shock; it was to me, too. And I don’t want to intrude or anything, but I wanted to meet you at least once. To let you know about me.”

 “How’d you even find out about me?” Danny asked, suspicious.

“When I saw you at the gala, you looked an awful lot like me. I got curious. Then I found out about Marie,” there was a moment of silence, “and I had to come and see you. I would like a paternity test, and if you are my son, I want to be there if you accept me. Even if you don’t, I want to set up a trust fund for you.”

What the Fentons didn’t know was that Bruce had already started the process of starting a trust fund. He couldn’t tell him he had already run a DNA test lest they get angry for the breach of privacy.

“Do you know what happened to Marie?” Maddie asked.

“Yes, it saddened me when I found out about the tragedy. Unfortunately, I know how much losing a family member hurts.”

 Danny had agreed to the paternity test; to his surprise (but not Bruce’s), it came back positive.

“Dude, ask your dad to get you the latest in Wayne Tech.”

“Tucker, man, he’s not my dad,” Danny protested as he held Sam’s hand.

“Okay, but he owes child support; the least he could do is hook you up with that sweet, sweet tech.”

Sam rolled her eyes and took out nail polish. She began painting Danny’s nails.

“Wait till mom and dad find out they’ve been snubbing a Wayne. It’s gonna be funny when they find out.”

“That’s only if I decide to go public with this. I already have enough on my plate with being the Crowned Prince of the Infinite Realms.

After his reveal to his parents (they had taken it surprisingly well), they had marched straight to the Observants’ chambers. They demanded the Observants postpone Danny’s coronation until he at least finished college.

“The Realms have gone this long without a king. What’s a few years more,” his mom had asked.

“Yeah, Dann-o deserves to live his life a little before being bogged down with responsibilities,” his dad had said.

Ancients, did Danny love his parents. It helped that now that they knew, he could give him his contingency plans in case he ever went dark.

(They had been horrified that Danny had plans to basically kill himself, but they had kept it to themselves and destroyed any blood blossoms they could get their hands on.)

Danny sighed, “I have no idea what to do. He has other kids, and apparently, they’re eager to meet their ‘youngest brother.’

“I’ve met them a few times,” Sam said as she took Danny’s other hand, “Considering they’re a billionaire’s kids, they are pretty down to earth. The youngest, I mean the second youngest, even cares about animal welfare and is a vegetarian. He saved a cow from the slaughterhouse.”

“I don’t know,” Danny said.

A few days after his eighteenth, Danny’s curiosity finally got the better of him. He decided to join a group chat with Bruce’s others children. He liked Dick’s puns and jokes, Jason’s morbid sense of humor, Tim’s love for engineering, Stephanie’s sassiness, Cass’s love of teasing, and Duke’s straightforwardness. Damian didn’t join the chat, which led Danny to conclude that Damian probably didn’t like Danny much.

(Damian was ashamed of what his mother had done and didn’t think he deserved to get to know his younger brother.)

 Danny decided to meet the rest of his brood three months after meeting Bruce. It wasn’t until he saw Damian that Danny put two and two together.

“You have her eyes,” he accused Damian.

“What,” Damian asked, confused. Everyone tensed when Danny’s eyes glowed Lazarus green.

“You have the woman’s eyes who killed my birth mother,” Danny’s voice was distorted and sounded inhuman.

Damian felt a primal fear go through his soul. Everyone else tensed in terror at the aura Danny was dispelling.

Thankfully, they had met at the Fenton’s house. Danny’s parents had been able to calm Danny down. In front of them, Danny transformed. In his place stood a ghostly teen with white hair and glowing green eyes. There was an ice-blue circlet on his brow, and his finger had a ring that seemed to have the stars in the universe engraved into it. He suddenly disappeared from sight, causing the Wayne family to be surprised.

That was how they found out that Danny was the Ghost King; that was how Bruce found out another of his sons had died not once but twice.

(It’s how Damian found that his mother was now essentially immortal, doomed to sleep for the rest of eternity. He didn’t feel too bad for her but mourned his mother’s love.)

Danny flew to Marie’s lair; she had passed over after Danny got revenge for her, and she knew her child would be fine. Danny had decided to move Marie’s lair to Phantom’s keep; it was the least he could do to remember her.

Clockwork appeared by Danny and stayed silent.

“What do you think she would want me to do?”

“It’s not what she would’ve wanted, Daniel; it’s what you want.”

Danny wanted the past to stay in the past. He wanted to look toward the future.

Danny wanted to get to know his biological father’s family.

Danny didn’t think Damian would forgive him.

(Damian didn’t blame him.)

He went back home and looked toward the future.

@jaggedheart11 @rukiaai @litlecameron

Well, here it goes. I left an open ending on purpose. Like I wrote earlier, this is purely an indulgent fic which means I wasn't thinking about it just writing out what I felt would go with this prompt. Sorry if it's not good.

dp x dc prompt: blood sons au

the reason why damian is so confident that he's the only blood son is because talia tracked down every single one of bruce's flings who got pregnant and killed them. danny's birth mother was one of them (for added lore, let's say she was maddie and alicia's little sister. maddie jokes that she and her sister had the same taste in men) and talia left him for dead but maddie revived him with ectoplasm. bruce finds out about this after damian off-handedly mentions it.

it happens at a gala. bruce, dick, damian and tim are the only ones in attendance. everything's going well until dick remarks that sam manson's plus one looks an awful lot like bruce. he teases that their dad might have another hidden son.

damian says, "that's impossible. mother killed all the other potential blood heirs and their mothers."

bruce stills. "SHE DID WHAT."

[stupidfatpenguin]

Grogu likes master Luke.

(Partially because he lets Grogu’s father come visit whenever he can, and partially because he lets Grogu keep a free reign of terror over the creatures in the pond outside the temple, but there are other reasons, too.)

Instinctively, from when they first met, from when Grogu first felt him, he had known that his master is someone special. Only someone very special could enter a place with so much fear and anger and despair and make the Force sing tunes of hope. There is a light in him, a place of good and wanting to do good that wells and overflows and makes the galaxy a little less dark of a place.

Master Luke is very different from the other masters—the ones Grogu can vaguely recall from a past that seems so far away now. His temple is different, too, and too large for the two Jedi it houses. But Grogu likes the training they do, likes the way he feels against his mind, assured and strong, and playful and exploring. Like he is learning with Grogu, rather than just departing a lesson.

He likes master’s flying, the acrobatics he’ll sometimes perform in his x-wing that makes Grogu’s stomach churn with excitement; he likes his astromech, and how he bickers and banters with it like they are family or very old friends, and how he convinces R2 to let Grogu ride on top of his dome head as they zoom around the halls; he likes how he asks Grogu to show him his favourite things and happiest memories, and how he ‘oh’s and ‘ah’s at the right parts when he shows him his adventures with father.

More than anything—more than sitting comfy in his master’s hood as they explore the jungle or getting to play in the pond until sundown, hunting down the largest and tastiest frogs with hunter-like determination that surely would make his father proud—he likes the understanding. Here, at the temple, there is no hiding anymore, and no suppressing what he hears and feels in the universe around him, no hiding what he can do. He is safe. With master Luke, here, he feels safe.

(He likes it even better when father is here because that means his father, too, is safe.)

His master is bright, and kind, and he listens, and he is all this even when Grogu does something he was not supposed to do. Whenever he reaches out for him, he reaches back, and he is warm, warm, warm.

So Grogu likes master Luke very much.

And, naturally, he wishes that he can make his master feel as safe and happy as Grogu is.

(Master Luke is not always happy. Often, he hides his pain and his own fears and loneliness, and Grogu knows because he had long done the same.)

There isn't much one can do when one is only very small, and his master is not as fond of the largest and tastiest frogs as Grogu is (even though he has shared with him memories of a time when he ate them often).

But there are some things Grogu can do.

The first time Grogu sees his master hurt is while they are out in the humid jungle, stacking stones and moving water with the Force. The stones come easy to him now, but the water is challenging in its formlessness. Master Luke is demonstrating a particularly difficult manoeuvre, creating fine, cooling mist out of pond-water.

There, where his shirt once covered his shoulders, Grogu sees the angry red and dark purpling of bruises. His ears flatten against his head, and he wonders how his master could have been made to suffer these injuries. He sometimes has them when he returns from off-world, from places that are probably dangerous—places he goes to so that they can all be safe.

This time, master has not been off-world, and these bruises are relatively small. The cause is likely the nasty, large mosquitos or meat-flies that sometimes find their way into the temple, if they’re not careful enough with the doors and windows.

Grogu vows to eat one the next time he sees one buzzing by.

He likes master Luke very much, after all.

Which is why it is so strange to Grogu when master Luke tries to stop him while he is healing his wounds.

“Grogu,” says his master, eyes wide in surprise and his own hand holding Grogu’s away from his neck—now back to its regular, healthy colour.

Grogu coos, askance. Not better?

“I—you didn’t have to…” master Luke pauses, turns a little, as if embarrassed for a moment. “Thank you, I mean. But I was doing just fine. You should save those powers for when they are truly needed, little one.”

Grogu’s head drops, and he feels unhappy for a moment. He had only meant to help.

His master must sense this, for he reaches out, warm and wonderful, and gives Grogu a brilliant smile.

“Some practice doesn't hurt, of course. But you don’t have to do that again.”

Grogu makes a sound of understanding, but he really doesn’t understand why his master would refuse to let Grogu heal him.

Some weeks the biting bugs are more vicious than others. Grogu makes good on his promise to exterminate every such creature he comes over, and even enlists R2 to his aid, incinerating the ones that Grogu misses.

Grogu luckily does not suffer so badly, and his father is so well protected that no insect could ever do him harm. Why are they so interested in master Luke? Perhaps some people, the ones that are good and powerful, like his master, simply taste better.

(Despite his master’s request that he doesn’t, Grogu sometimes, when seated conveniently in his hood or on his shoulder, can’t resist reaching out in focus, and watching in satisfaction as the skin there is healed and turned unblemished, even when master gives him very accusive stares when he discovers it later, although Grogu claims none of the credit.)

To Grogu’s great worry and frustration, the bruises keep returning.

It is only a day later, when father is holding him just after breakfast, and Grogu clearly spies more terrible bruises on master Luke—red and vicious and high on his neck. He reaches out, whines loudly. Perhaps father can help him convince his master to accept his help.

“Grogu? Hey, what’s wrong, kid?”

Master Luke immediately knows his intentions, but his face, inexplicably, slowly takes on a hue of red. To his father, he explains: “Ah, he… wants to heal me.”

“Are you hurt?” father asks urgently, and Grogu feels validated in his concern.

“No! No, I’m fine, he just, uh…” His face grows redder still. “The other day, he saw the… marks and… healed them. He thinks they’re hurting me.”

His father stares, eyes wide, and Grogu can feel his hand twitching and his body radiate a sort of embarrassment. “Maybe I should… stop doing that.”

Master laughs, smiles mischievously. “Maybe you should start leaving them lower.”

Grogu is suddenly confused. Had his father been the one to do this? Are his father and his master fighting? Hurting each other? He remembers that his father hadn’t been happy when he had tried protecting him when he had wrestled with Cara Dune, because she was “his friend”, but they had never wounded each other. Not like this. Were his father and master Luke, perhaps, not friends after all? None of this seemed to make sense. But he can’t allow them to hurt each other anymore.

So when his two most important people are suddenly standing a lot closer, and his father’s other hand touches his master’s neck exactly where he is hurt, Grogu gathers the Force around him and promptly pushes.

(And because Grogu likes master Luke and his father so very, very much, he is not that sad when he is not allowed frogs for dinner that night).

-

Tl;dr: Grogu wants to heal Luke’s injuries, but they are actually hickeys.

(This started as a ficlet about Grogu’s feelings on Luke, and suddenly became DinLuke whoops)