#wailing from the graveyard

[onelonelyghost0]

Vlad, watching: oh shit, I’ve felt that, my condolences king

Also vlad: WAIT IVE FELT THAT. DAMMIT DANIEL

Danny: something just happened

Danny Kills the Joker AU

Danny is on the run in gotham, as you do in dpxdc fics. His parents are dead and he is trying to stay out of Vlad's custody. Gotham has plenty of ectoplasm to hide his ecto signature. It also has a high enough population of homeless people that no one would even notice Danny just showing up.

He's been living rough in gotham, mostly sticking to Crime Alley and The Narrows, sleeping in abandoned buildings or in relatively clean parts of the sewer system. He eats what he can find and does his best never to be seen.

Not good enough since he along with like 30 other street kids get picked up by joker goons and tied up. Joker is planning an explosive party for the city to watch and he needed guests. Joker literally set up bombs of joker gas around the city that will go off and send the entire city into pandemonium, killing millions. The only way to stop the bombs is to kill his guests (homeless kids from Crime Alley) which the city can vote on. Kill themselves or kill kids.

Danny is sitting at the edge of the group, listening as Joker televises his new plan to the entire city.

He really, really hates clowns.

He is also not gonna let this guy kill all of these kids. He may not be a hero anymore but those protection instincts didnt die with his parents.

And also fuck that clown.

He phases through his bonds, and then starts asking the various kids to borrow their hat, gloves, and scarf. Gotham street kids take one look at this out of town kid and mentally wish him luck while planning out his funeral. They keep on acting terrified because as stupid as this kid is being, they're not snitches either.

Danny puts on the borrowed clothes to hide his face and hair. He can't be identified, or Vlad is gonna be on his ass tomorrow. Once fully covered he gets up and into view of the camera. The Joker notices him, turns around to laugh and jeer at him. Probably shoot him for being impolite and interrupting him. Danny doesnt even pause just walks right up to the clown and coldcocks him.

Based on the sound of bones snapping Danny admits he might have punched a little too hard. Danny checks the Jokers pulse and immediately panics. Danny has Batman levels of fear around killing and he is panicking about becoming Dan.

"Holy Shit I killed him!" He says, to the entire city because the camera is still rolling.

Cue:

Danny running for his life, trying to hide away from his fear and guilt.

Red Hood becoming like his dad and drawing up mental adoption papers

Harley Quinn also drawing up adoption papers, paper ones, while Poison Ivy changes their home's 'no boys allowed' banner to 'son boy allowed'

Jokers goons trying to find Danny to kill him for killing their boss

City wide pandemonium as the jokers death is confirmed and people are partying in the streets, the mayor is planning on giving the street kid who did it the key to the fucking city

The batfam trying to find Danny to protect him from Jokers Goons (Bruce is third in line for custody not that he knows he is gonna have to fight both Harley and Jason for the honor)

The crime alley kids are still not snitching on the kid who saved them. Anyone who asks them about Danny only respond with 'what are you a cop? Fuck off pig'

Vlad Masters, as someone who has been punched by Danny, immediately recognizes the punch and flies to Gotham to find his wayward 'son'.

Vlad even meets with Brucie Wayne to ask for help in finding Danny. Bruce gets bad vibes from Vlad and is even more invested in finding Danny. The boy has dark hair, blue eyes, and a tragic orphan backstory. Its fate!

Danny meanwhile is hiding in some sewer somewhere breathing into a paper bag as he panics about becoming a world ending threat.

[onelonelyghost0]

Dick: baby

Jason: sweetheart

Tim: darling

Damian: my love

This has been my TEDTalk, I am so goddamn tired

[onelonelyghost0]

He’s just like me fr

(Emotionally repressed and unable to help people without being blunt)

(Unable to accept help bc of pride)

(Gay)

[onelonelyghost0]

Does that character really need to be redeemed or do they just have similar traumas, responses, and behaviors as you, and bc you are fighting to get better, they should too?

[onelonelyghost0]

GUYS REBLOG I WANNA SEE FUCKABLE SPACE

Also yk abyss you gave us a goal and then were surprised when we hit it

BUT ALSO I WANNA SEE FUCKABLE SPACE CHOP CHOP LETS GOOOOOOOO

If this gets twenty notes by tomorrow (9:40 mst i believe) I'll make cake Hit by SIX AM my timezone. What.

If it gets thirty I'll make cookies Hit by six am again.

If it gets fourty by 6 mst I'll go to bed on time and not doomscroll Also hit when I woke up

And with no specified time limit

If it gets fifty I'll clean my room again

If it gets sixty I'll pick up a sonic game again and not put it down until I beat at least three levels

Seventy and I'll finally get venmo up and running and commissions open

Eighty I'll sew myself some clothes I want Everything fifty to eighty was hit by 9 my timezone.

Ninety I'll pirate Slay the Princess (it's dev approved pirating bc I'm broke) This goal was going to be cancelled but we hit ninety by ten in the crabbing morning. So I'm waiting until I can buy it because I'm riding out my ISaT obsession first.

And one hundred I'll go for a walk every day for a week straight even if i hurt Hit by like 11 my timezone. Sure. I guess I'm doing walks now. Also note 101 was me and doesn't count but fuck it! More goalposts I guess! Reblog this version

120 I'll do a digital painting of a fuckable concept of space for my mutual @onelonelyghost0 like I've been threatening

150 I'll revamp and release a Soul Eater oc I made when I was ten

170 I'll finally write my Warrior Cats essay on "why Power of Three/Omen of the Stars arc is my favorite and handles the story it wants to tell the best but the Prophecies Begin has the best story" like I've wanted to for forever

200 I'll take at least one walk a week for a month no matter the weather (it's snowy in winter where I am)

250 I'll uh fuck ig I'll write an oc i've been working on into a proper story and publish it? It'll be hard bc digital painting but whatever

300 Ha you think we're getting here? 100 was a fluke. If we somehow hit here I'm going to eat three meals a day including breakfast, even on college days, no excuses. If I'm going to abuse Tumblr notes forcing me to do stuff I want to but never would, I'm going to force myself to eat

400 Okay guys this is absurd and we're not getting here. If we do I'm going to come out as trans to my best irl friend (she's not transphobic but one of her closest friends (her ex boyfriend) is. Luckily he's not scary-transphobic, he's just "you're not valid" transphobic and his opinion means nothing to me so I lose nothing by him knowing I'm trans)

Probably won't need more than that and I know this will get buried so @animnightmare Leslie get over here

Also no more than ten reblogs per person

[zeninsama-moved]

U associating you missed my heart with toji actually made me set my phone down and stare at my wall for like five minutes like. wow…yeah…

IT'S HEARTBREAKING!

[novaursa]

The Silent Pyre

- Summary: It was a rainy night when Blood and Cheese came to deliver you your half-sister’s message; a son for a son.

- Paring: reader (twin!wife)/Aegon II

- Note: reader is referred to as Y/N. Aegon and the reader have four children, the oldest son named Aeron, a daughter, Daena, and twin boys, Vaelon and Baelon. These events happen after Twin Fires and before The Fire That Binds Us. For full chronological order of these works visit my blog. The list is pinned on the top. Or, you can read it as a one-shot. Anonymous user inquired about these events, and I've decided to post it and share it with you all, it has been stashed away for too long in my file graveyard.

- Rating: Explicit 18+ (no adult content, but there are graphic descriptions of violence, blood and gore)

- Word count: 5 133

- Tag(s): @sachaa-ff

The night is heavy with the scent of rain, the coolness of autumn seeping into the stones of the Red Keep. The fire in Helaena’s chamber casts long shadows across the walls, flickering as the wind howls faintly outside. You stand by the door, the weight of your crown pressing down upon you as you gaze at your younger sister. Her pale hair gleams like moonlight as she kneels by her children’s cradle, whispering a soft lullaby. Her voice is a quiet, fragile thing, a melody that seems almost too delicate for the world that surrounds you both.

“Helaena,” you murmur, stepping closer. She lifts her head, her violet eyes distant and unfocused, as though she is seeing something far beyond the chamber walls.

“Y/N,” she replies, a small, distracted smile gracing her lips. “Goodnight. May the Seven bless your dreams.”

“And yours, sister.” You reach out, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear. “Sleep well.”

With one last glance at her serene face, you turn and leave the room, pulling the door shut softly behind you. The corridor outside is eerily silent, the usual clamor of the servants and guards muted, as if the Keep itself holds its breath.

As you walk through the darkened halls, a sense of unease begins to coil in your chest. The silence feels unnatural, like the calm before a storm. The rain patters against the windows, a steady rhythm that should be soothing, but instead heightens your anxiety. You pull your cloak tighter around yourself, the chill of the stone floors seeping through your slippers.

Your thoughts drift to Aegon, waiting for you in your shared bedchamber. You picture him sprawled across the large bed, his platinum blond hair tousled, perhaps with a goblet of wine in hand. There is comfort in the thought of him, of the warmth of his body against yours, but it does little to dispel the growing dread that gnaws at your insides.

As you approach the nursery, the unease sharpens into fear. You pause, your hand hovering over the door. The sound of something crashing softly from within reaches your ears—a faint, almost imperceptible noise, but enough to send your heart racing. The shadows behind the door shift, moving in ways that shadows should not.

You swallow, forcing down the rising panic. Your children are in there, your precious sons and daughter. Steeling yourself, you push the door open slowly, trying to remain as silent as possible.

The scene before you is one pulled from the darkest of nightmares. The warm, cozy nursery is cast in a pall of terror. Your eyes first find your mother, Dowager Queen Alicent, bound and gagged on the floor, her eyes wide with a terror that you have never seen before. She struggles against her bindings, her muffled cries like the wail of a ghost in the suffocating silence.

But it is the two men in the center of the room who capture your attention—the one holding your eldest son, Aeron, in his arms, a cruel knife pressed to his throat, while the other stands nearby, his presence looming and sinister. Your son is awake, tears streaking down his face, his small body trembling in fear.

“Do not scream,” the man holding your son whispers, his voice low and threatening. “Or the boy dies.”

Your breath catches in your throat, a wave of nausea rising within you as the reality of the situation crashes down. You force yourself to remain calm, to not give in to the terror clawing at your heart.

“What do you want?” you manage to say, your voice shaking despite your best efforts to keep it steady.

“Vengeance,” the other man—Cheese, they will call him, from his size and the rat-like cunning in his eyes—replies coldly. “For son's blood has been spilled. Now, it is your blood that must pay.”

You take a step forward, and the knife digs deeper into Aeron’s tender skin, a small whimper escaping his lips. Your entire body tenses, every instinct screaming at you to protect your child, but you are powerless, bound by the threat that hangs over him like a blade.

“Let my son go,” you plead, your voice cracking. “Please. He is but a child.”

Cheese’s grin is twisted, devoid of mercy. “A choice, Your Grace. You must choose one of your sons. Two to live, and one to die.”

The words hit you like a blow, stealing the breath from your lungs. Your knees threaten to buckle beneath you, the world spinning as the horror of what they ask becomes clear. They want you to condemn one of your children to death. To choose between your sons.

“No,” you whisper, shaking your head. “I cannot.”

“You must,” the man holding Aeron insists, his voice a menacing growl. “Or we kill them all three.”

You look between your sons, your heart shattering into pieces. Aeron, your eldest, so brave despite his fear, his wide eyes pleading silently for you to save him. And twin boys, Vaelon and Baelon, still asleep in their cribs, blissfully unaware of the nightmare unfolding around them.

Tears blur your vision, the anguish of the choice tearing at your soul. You cannot do this. You cannot be the one to decide who lives and who dies. But their lives, three of them, hang in the balance, and the choice is yours to make.

“Please,” you beg once more, though you know it is futile. “Do not make me choose.”

Cheese steps closer, his breath foul as he leans in. “Choose, Queen Y/N. Or your precious children will all die, and it will be on your head.”

The weight of your crown feels like a curse as you stand there, trembling, the choice before you too terrible to comprehend. Your hands are shaking, your heart breaking, as the words begin to form on your lips, but they can't leave them.

The world narrows to the unbearable choice before you, every second stretching into an eternity. You stand frozen, the screams of your heart drowned out by the silence that has gripped your throat. Aeron, your firstborn, stares at you with wide, tear-filled eyes, pleading for a salvation you know you cannot grant him. And there, in their cribs, laid Vaelon and Baelon, so small, so unaware, their chest rising and falling peacefully with each breath.

It is the smaller and younger twin’s innocence, his lack of awareness, that seals your fate. If he must die, let it be without knowing fear. Let him slip from this world in the safety of his dreams.

Your decision comes not from cruelty, but from a twisted, desperate kind of mercy.

“Vaelon,” you whisper, your voice a broken thing. “Take him.”

The words taste like ash on your tongue, a confession of the darkest sin. The man holding Aeron grins, his eyes alight with a sadistic satisfaction. But even as the choice leaves your lips, a cold realization claws at the back of your mind—this was never meant to end well. They were never going to let Aeron live.

You see it happen almost in slow motion, the knife glinting in the dim light as it draws across your eldest son’s throat. The sound that escapes him is a choked gasp, eyes widening in pain and betrayal as the blood wells and spills down his neck.

“No!” The word tears from your throat as you lunge forward, but it is too late. The man has already sliced deeper, crimson blooming like a terrible flower. Yet, Aeron is not yet gone. The blade catches as the man’s hand slips, and in that moment of weakness, Alicent—your mother—finds her strength.

With a fury you have never seen, she throws herself against the man holding Aeron, her bound body knocking him off balance. He stumbles, the knife digging deeper but freeing your son from his grasp. Aeron falls to the floor, clutching at his bleeding throat, his small hands stained red.

A scream of pure, primal rage rips from your chest as you hurl yourself at the man, the world around you narrowing to a singular purpose: kill him. You grab for the knife, your hands slick with Aeron’s blood, and wrest it from his grasp. The man struggles against you, but your desperation lends you strength. With a wild, desperate thrust, you drive the blade into his side, feeling the give of flesh and bone as it sinks in.

He gasps, a wet, gurgling sound, eyes wide in shock as he stumbles backward, clutching at the wound. You pull the knife free and stab again, and again, each strike fueled by the agony that has consumed you. Blood splatters across your face, warm and sickening, but you do not stop until he falls, lifeless, to the floor.

In the chaos, you do not notice Cheese until it is too late. He has turned his attention to one of the twins, to Vaelon, your youngest, the one you had chosen to condemn. As your daughter, Daena, screams—a piercing, heart-rending sound that echoes through the nursery—Cheese moves swiftly, seizing the smaller boy from his crib.

“No! Please!” you cry out, scrambling to your feet, but your voice is drowned by the sheer panic that has overtaken you. You are too far, too slow. Vaelon’s eyes flutter open, confusion and fear flickering across his tiny face as the knife flashes once more.

And then it is done. The light fades from Vaelon’s eyes as his small body crumples to the floor, lifeless. 

A silence falls over the room, broken only by the sound of your daughter’s sobs, Baelon’s baby gurglings and the ragged breaths of Alicent, who is desperately pressing her hands against Aeron’s wound, trying to stem the flow of blood.

“Aeron!” You rush to him, dropping to your knees beside him. His eyes are glazed with pain, his breathing shallow and labored. The wound is deep, but he is alive, clinging to life by the barest thread.

Cheese is panicking now, his eyes darting around the room as if realizing for the first time the gravity of what they have done. The plan, whatever it was, has gone horribly wrong. He looks at the bodies—the man you killed, Vaelon’s small, lifeless form—and he falters, unsure of his next move.

“You will die for this,” you hiss, every word trembling with a deadly promise. “You will not leave this room alive.”

Cheese takes a step back, fear flashing in his eyes, but before he can act, you move. Fueled by a mother’s wrath and the madness of grief, you surge forward, the bloodied knife still clutched in your hand. He tries to fend you off, but he is no match for the fury that drives you. With a wild, savage strike, you plunge the knife into his chest.

He gasps, a final breath escaping his lips as his eyes go wide, then glassy. He collapses to the floor, joining his fallen companion in death.

You stand there, panting, covered in the blood of your children’s murderers, and of your children themselves. Your hands shake as you drop the knife, the sound of it clattering to the floor barely registering in your mind.

“Y/N,” Alicent calls out, her voice trembling. “Aeron needs you.”

You blink, the fog of rage lifting just enough for you to focus on your son. You drop to your knees beside him, your hands finding his, trying to staunch the flow of blood with trembling fingers.

“Stay with me, my love,” you whisper, tears streaming down your face. “Stay with me. Please.”

Alicent is beside you, pressing her hands down on the wound with all her might. “He’s strong,” she says, though her voice wavers. “He will survive this.”

You nod, though your heart is breaking. You dare not look at Vaelon’s still form, his twin, Baelon, now wide awake in his crib, or at your daughter, Daena, who is now curled into a ball in the corner, sobbing for her brothers. You can only focus on Aeron, on keeping him alive, as the horror of what has happened sinks into your soul.

The night is no longer just cold and rainy; it has become a night of death and despair, one that will haunt you until your last breath. But you will not let it claim Aeron. Not him, too.

And as the dawn begins to break, casting pale light over the carnage, you hold your son close, praying to the Seven to spare him. To spare at least one of your children, as the taste of your own choice, the bitterness of it, poisons your every breath.

Aegon sits in the dim light of your shared bedchamber, his goblet of wine resting lazily in his hand. The fire crackles in the hearth, casting dancing shadows on the walls, but the warmth it offers does little to chase away the chill of the autumn night. He sighs, his thoughts drifting to you, knowing that you will join him soon. The bond you share, forged not only by blood but by a deep, consuming love, is one that neither of you can escape, nor would you wish to. Sleep eludes him without you by his side, as it always has since you were children. 

He takes another sip of the wine, waiting for the familiar sound of your footsteps approaching. The thought of the night ahead, of holding you close, offers a comfort that softens the weariness in his bones.

But then, a scream pierces the stillness of the night—a scream that he recognizes instantly as belonging to your daughter. It is followed by your voice, raw with anguish, echoing down the corridors.

The goblet slips from his hand, clattering to the floor as he leaps to his feet. The wine spills across the stone, forgotten as dread seizes him. He knows something is terribly wrong. Without a moment’s hesitation, he rushes to the door, his heart pounding in his chest.

“Your Grace!” one of the Kingsguard calls as they fall into step behind him, but Aegon doesn’t respond. The only thought in his mind is to reach you, to reach his children.

He tears down the hall, his bare feet slapping against the cold stone, until he reaches the nursery. The door is ajar, shadows flickering ominously in the light from the hallway. The scent of copper fills his nostrils before he even crosses the threshold, a scent that chills him to the core.

He bursts into the room, but in his haste, he doesn’t notice the slickness beneath his feet until it’s too late. His foot slips on the blood that pools on the floor, and he stumbles, barely catching himself on the doorframe before he can fall.

For a moment, everything seems to slow. He looks down at the blood smeared across the floor, the vivid red of it stark against the stone. And then he sees the scene before him, a tableau of horror that makes his breath catch in his throat.

Two men lie dead on the floor, their bodies twisted in death, blood oozing from fatal wounds. But it is not them that hold his attention; it is the small, lifeless form of Vaelon, his infant son, lying not far from them, his throat cruelly slit. Aegon’s heart seizes, his vision blurring with tears that he fights to hold back.

“No… no, no…” The words are barely a whisper as he staggers forward, his mind unable to fully comprehend the sight before him.

But there is more—your mother, Alicent, is on the floor, her hands pressed desperately against Aeron’s throat, trying to stem the flow of blood. And there you are, kneeling beside your eldest son, your hands covered in blood, your face a mask of desperation and despair as you try to keep him alive.

“Y/N!” Aegon chokes out your name as he rushes to you, his voice filled with fear and anguish. “What… what happened?”

You look up at him, your eyes red and swollen from crying, and the sight of you breaks something deep within him. “Aegon… they… they killed Vaelon,” you whisper, your voice trembling. “They tried to kill Aeron… we… I couldn’t stop them…”

Aegon falls to his knees beside you, his hands hovering uselessly over Aeron, unsure of what to do. He can see the life fading from his eldest son’s eyes, the pale skin, the way his breath comes in shallow, ragged gasps. Aegon feels a crushing sense of helplessness, something he has never experienced with such intensity before.

“Aeron, my boy… stay with us,” Aegon pleads, his voice thick with emotion as he brushes a trembling hand over Aeron’s hair. “Stay with us, please…”

Alicent looks up at her son, her own eyes filled with tears, though she fights to keep them at bay. “We need to stop the bleeding, Aegon. If we don’t… if we don’t…”

“I know,” Aegon says, though his voice is strangled. He tears a strip of cloth from his sleeve, pressing it to Aeron’s wound with a firm but gentle hand. “Stay with me, Aeron. You’re strong. You can fight this.”

But even as he says the words, he feels the cold dread settle in his chest, knowing that the wound is too deep, that his son’s life is slipping away with every passing moment. 

You lean into Aegon, your body shaking with sobs as you press your bloodstained hands over his, trying to help, trying to do something—anything—to save your child. But the blood keeps coming, seeping through your fingers, staining the floor beneath you.

“Please… please…” you whisper, over and over, your voice breaking with each word. “Don’t take him from us…”

Aegon pulls you closer, wrapping an arm around you even as he continues to press down on Aeron’s wound. He can feel your pain, your sorrow, as if it were his own, and in that moment, he knows that this night will haunt both of you for the rest of your lives.

The Kingsguard finally arrive, swords drawn, their faces pale as they take in the scene before them. But there is nothing they can do; the threat is already gone, the deed already done. All they can do is stand there, silent and grim, as the horror of what has happened sinks in.

“Get a maester!” Aegon commands, his voice rising with desperate urgency. “Now!”

One of the guards rushes off without a word, the others standing watch as if expecting another attack, though it is clear that the danger has passed. Aegon looks down at Aeron, his heart breaking as he watches the light in his son’s eyes flicker and fade.

“Stay with us, Aeron,” he whispers again, but the words sound hollow, empty, even to his own ears.

Alicent, her hands still pressed against the wound, glances at you, her eyes filled with a sorrow so deep it seems to swallow the room whole. “Y/N,” she says softly, her voice thick with grief, “he’s… he’s still fighting. But we need to prepare ourselves… we need to…”

“No!” You cry out, shaking your head violently. “No, he’s going to survive. He has to. He’s strong. Please, Aegon, tell her… tell her he’s going to survive.”

Aegon swallows hard, trying to keep the tears at bay as he looks at you, seeing the hope in your eyes, fragile and desperate. “He’s strong,” he agrees, his voice trembling. “He’s a dragon. He’ll survive this.”

But even as he says the words, he knows that they are more for your sake than for his own. He knows the truth, as much as he hates it, as much as it tears at his very soul.

And then, as if in response to your pleas, Aeron’s breathing hitches, a faint, ragged sound that sends a jolt of hope through your heart. But Aegon sees the truth in the way his son’s eyes begin to flutter shut, the way his small body goes limp beneath your hands.

“No, no, stay with us, please…” you sob, your voice breaking completely as you try to shake him awake, as if you can keep him from slipping away just by sheer will alone.

Aegon pulls you closer, holding you tightly against him, his own tears falling freely now. “Y/N… he’s…”

But before he can finish, the maester arrives, pushing his way into the room with a satchel of supplies. He takes one look at Aeron and immediately sets to work, but Aegon can see it in his eyes—the resignation, the grim acceptance of what is to come.

Aegon watches as the maester tries to stem the bleeding, his hands moving quickly, efficiently, but it is clear that he is fighting a losing battle. You cling to Aegon, your tears soaking into his tunic as you watch, your breath catching in your throat every time Aeron’s breathing falters.

Minutes pass, each one stretching into an eternity, until finally, Orwyle pulls back, his face pale and drawn. He looks up at Aegon, then at you, and shakes his head, his expression filled with sorrow.

“I’m sorry, Your Grace,” he says quietly. “There’s… there’s nothing more I can do.”

The words hit you like a physical blow, and you cry out, your hands trembling as you reach for Aeron, as if you can somehow pull him back from the brink.

“No… no, please, no…” you whisper, your voice barely audible as you cradle your son’s head in your lap, your fingers brushing through his hair.

Aegon feels his heart shatter completely as he watches you, as he sees the light finally fade from Aeron’s eyes, his small body going still in your arms. He can’t breathe, can’t think, can’t do anything but hold you as you break down completely.

The days following the brutal attack on your family pass in a haze of grief and despair. The Red Keep is draped in a suffocating silence, its once lively halls now cold and empty, as though the life has been drained from its very walls. The horror of that night lingers in every corner, every shadow, a constant reminder of the blood that was spilled and the lives that were lost.

Your remaining children, Daena and Baelon, are kept under the strictest watch by the Kingsguard. No less than two knights are stationed outside their chambers at all times, and they are never left alone, not even for a moment. The memory of what happened to their brothers hangs over the nursery like a dark cloud, and every sound, every creak of the floorboards, sends a fresh wave of terror through the household.

But it is you, their mother, who is most affected. The grief has hollowed you out, leaving you a mere shadow of the woman you once were. You spend your days in a state of numbness, your heart shattered beyond repair. Nothing and no one can console you, not even Aegon, who tries desperately to reach you, to bring you back from the edge of the abyss into which you have fallen. But his attempts are in vain. You are inconsolable, broken beyond words.

Aegon himself is a man consumed by fury. The fire of his rage burns hotter with each passing day, fueled by the sheer injustice of what has happened. He holds a small council meeting in the dead of night, summoning only those he trusts—or at least, those whose loyalties he can control.

In the dimly lit council chamber, Aegon sits at the head of the table, his hands gripping the arms of his chair so tightly that his knuckles are white. His eyes are bloodshot, his face drawn and pale from lack of sleep. The tension in the room is palpable, every man present feeling the weight of the King’s anger pressing down on them like a physical force.

Around the table sit Otto Hightower, his face a mask of stern concern; Ser Criston Cole, his expression grim and unyielding; Lord Larys Strong, who watches the proceedings with his usual calculating gaze; Lord Jasper Wylde, the Master of Laws, his fingers tapping nervously on the table; Lord Tayland Lannister, the Master of Ships, who remains unusually quiet; and Grand Maester Orwyle, who sits with his hands folded, his eyes downcast.

Aegon’s voice breaks the silence, a low, seething growl that sends a shiver down the spine of everyone in the room. “How did this happen?” he demands, his eyes blazing with fury as he looks from one man to the next. “How did two men infiltrate the heart of the Red Keep, murder my sons, and nearly take the life of my other children without anyone knowing? Where were the guards? Where was the protection I was promised?”

Otto is the first to speak, his voice calm but firm. “Your Grace, we are all grieved by this tragedy, but rest assured, we are investigating every possible lead. The guards who were on duty that night have been questioned, and those found negligent will be dealt with severely.”

“Dealt with severely?” Aegon echoes, his voice rising with incredulity. “My sons are dead, and you speak of discipline as if that can undo what has been done! This was not just negligence—this was treason, betrayal of the highest order!”

Ser Criston Cole, ever the loyal sword, speaks next, his tone as hard as steel. “Your Grace, the Kingsguard were stationed as ordered, but the enemy was cunning. They knew exactly where to strike, and when. We are searching for any who might have aided them from within the Keep.”

Aegon glares at him, his anger still simmering. “You should have been there, Ser Criston. You should have been protecting my family, as you swore to do.”

Criston bows his head, accepting the rebuke without argument. “I failed you, my king, and I will bear that burden until the day I die.”

Larys Strong, who has remained silent until now, leans forward slightly, his voice smooth and unhurried as he speaks. “Your Grace, the men who did this were not acting alone. This attack was meticulously planned, designed to strike at the heart of your family and weaken your claim. There is but one who stands to gain the most from such an act of terror.”

Aegon’s eyes narrow as he fixes his gaze on Larys. “Speak plainly, Lord Strong. Who do you accuse?”

Larys meets Aegon’s gaze without flinching, his voice carrying a weight of certainty. “Rhaenyra Targaryen, and her husband, Daemon. They are the ones behind this atrocity. They seek to undermine your rule, to sow chaos and discord within the realm, so that Rhaenyra might usurp your throne.”

Aegon’s breath hitches at the mention of his half-sister’s name. His hatred for her is no secret, but to hear that she might be responsible for the deaths of his sons sends a fresh wave of fury coursing through him. “You have proof of this?” he demands, his voice shaking with barely contained rage.

Larys inclines his head, a faint smile playing on his lips. “The men who committed the murders—the butcher and the rat catcher—are known associates of Daemon Targaryen. They were hired by him to carry out this heinous act. The gold they were paid with was traced back to Rhaenyra’s supporters in King’s Landing. This was not just an act of violence—it was a message. Response to the death of Lucerys Velaryon by the hand of Prince Aemond.”

Aegon’s hands clench into fists, his nails digging into the wood of the table. “A message? They dare to send me a message by murdering my sons? Two innocent boys?”

“Yes,” Larys replies, his voice as cold as ice. “They wish to show that you are vulnerable, that your rule can be challenged. They wish to provoke you into rash action, to draw you into a conflict that will weaken your position.”

“Rash action?” Aegon scoffs, his anger flaring anew. “They think they can provoke me? They think I will sit idly by while they murder my children?”

“Your Grace,” Otto interjects, his voice measured. “We must be careful. If we move too quickly, without proof, we risk turning the realm against us. Rhaenyra still has many supporters. We must gather our strength, consolidate our power, and then strike when the time is right.”

But Aegon is beyond reason, his grief and rage too great to be tempered by caution. “I will not wait!” he snarls, slamming his fist on the table. “They have taken from me what I hold most dear, and I will make them pay for it, tenfold! If Rhaenyra wants war, then war she shall have!”

The council members exchange uneasy glances, each man aware of the storm that is about to be unleashed. Aegon’s wrath is a dangerous thing, and they know that nothing they say will dissuade him from the course he has set.

Grand Maester Orwyle finally speaks, his voice soft but insistent. “Your Grace, the lives of your remaining children—Princess Daena and Prince Baelon—must be your foremost concern. They are the future of your house, and they must be protected at all costs.”

Aegon’s expression softens slightly at the mention of his children, the thought of them momentarily piercing through the fog of his anger. He knows that Orwyle is right, that the safety of Daena and Baelon is paramount. But even this knowledge cannot quell the burning desire for vengeance that has taken root in his heart.

“I will protect them,” he says, his voice hardening once more. “But I will not allow this attack to go unanswered. Rhaenyra and Daemon will know the price of crossing me.”

Otto inclines his head, understanding that there is no turning back now. “Then we must prepare for war, Your Grace. We must rally our banners, secure our allies, and strike swiftly and decisively.”

Aegon nods, his jaw set with determination. “Do it. Call the banners, prepare the dragons. We will bring fire and blood to those who dare to defy us.”

The council members rise from their seats, each man knowing that the decisions made this night will plunge the realm into chaos. As they leave the chamber, Aegon remains behind, staring at the bloodstained map of Westeros spread out before him. His thoughts drift to you, to the shattered look in your eyes, to the bodies of his sons lying cold in their graves.

He swears to himself, to the gods, and to the memory of his murdered children that he will not rest until Rhaenyra and Daemon are brought to justice. No matter the cost, no matter the blood that must be spilled, he will have his revenge.

And so, the storm begins to gather, the winds of war stirring in the darkness of the Red Keep.

[dunmeshistash]

Dungeons

Dungeon Meshi Dungeons have unique characteristics and the Adventurer's Bible gives us a look on a few of the more important ones.

First, what makes a dungeon a dungeon? According to the Glossary section:

Dungeon There are two types of dungeon: manmade and natural. Manmade dungeons like the one on the Island are structures created when a door is linked to another dimension. Natural dungeons are environments that resemble manmade dungeons; they're created when a portal to another dimension forms on its own and mana seeps in. In natural dungeons, you can't be resurrected if you die. The cavern Falin took Marcille to when they were at magic school was a natural dungeon.

Continuing bellow the cut, Major Spoilers ahead

In ch87 we learn that man-made Dungeons were created by the ancient civilizations to contain the Demon's powers, and be able to better use it.

In ch 68 Thistle confirms something similar.

With this in mind, Dungeons also seem to have "Styles".

Like these examples from the cover of ch 48.

"The island", which is the name given to the Dungeon Linked to Melini Village's Graveyard, is a "Compound-Style Dungeon" while other dungeons seem to have specific styles linked to other ancient civilizations (Dwarf-Style, Gnome-Style, Elf-Style)

'The Island' in specific seem to be a Compound Style between dwarfish and elvish styles. As Thistle says, continuing in ch 68, it was an ancient Dwarf construction that was then used by Elves.

Maybe that's the reason the dwarfish inscriptions are only in the innermost levels of the dungeon. The Style then seems to indicate which ancient civilizations created the manmade Dungeon.

From how they speak about Dungeons in the story I also believe there isn't a way to create new manmade dungeons, and rather they must find them since they were buried by ancient civilizations once they realized it was impossible to control the Demon.

Besides that dungeons apparently also seem to have a life cycle, or "Maturity Levels", that ends with the collapse of the dungeon. Here's the cover for ch 54 illustrating it.

From the descriptions, Utaya seems to have reached lv 5 while others tend to be conquered and collapsed before. Some even seem to collapse on their own.

These are the main Dungeons pointed out in the adventurer's bible with their respective descriptions.

DUNGEONS

1 THE ISLAND

A new dungeon that was discovered just six years ago. It's rumored that the Golden Country that existed a thousand years ago still lies in its depths, imprisoned there by the Lunatic Magician.

2 BUDOU PIT

A dwarf-style dungeon. It was excavated straight down like a mine shaft and has already collapsed. Its atmosphere and location are bad, and even after it was discovered, not many adventurers visited it. As a result, it's believed to have collapsed naturally. Its depths may be connected to the ocean: If you listen carefully, some say you can hear the waves. People also claim that if you throw something into the pit, it will inevitably wash up in the port of Kahka Brud.

3 THE BRUD DUNGEON CLUSTER

A dwarf-style dungeon. It's made of the ruins of dungeons that riddled the ground beneath Kahka Brud. Now that its last lord has been defeated, the dungeon has been completely captured. It's become part of the town, and bits of it are used as storehouses, shops, and private homes.

4 THE TOWER OF NIGHT CRIES

A gnome-style dungeon. It's on the verge of collapsing and is currently sealed. Since it's still functioning, if barely, it's believed to have a lord somewhere. The dungeon is shaped like a tower. Its name comes from the wailing noise produced by the wind blowing through holes in its walls at night. Winged monsters have been sighted flying around the tower.

5 THE UTAYA DUNGEON

An elf-style dungeon. It changed lords frequently, and it's the dungeon that grew the largest after the ancient war. At present, it's sealed. Fifteen years ago, monsters flooded out and destroyed the nearby towns. Because it had expanded so much, it couldn't be blocked off completely, and the Canaries quelled the situation by casting a barrier over the dungeon and the entire surrounding area. Magic users are still permanently stationed there to maintain the barrier.

6 THE DRAGONS' LAIR

An elf-style dungeon. Currently collapsed. A rare case in which an entire region of interlacing canyons became a dungeon. Many dragons lived here once, and it was a notoriously secluded region. However, it was hard just to get to it, the rewards were small, and the dragons were tough. Almost no adventurers visited it, and it's thought to have collapsed naturally. When the population dwindled, mana stopped flowing through it, so the large dragons vanished. However, a few small dragons still live there.

7 THE CENTRAL WATCHTOWER

An elf-style dungeon near the capital of the Western Elves. Currently sealed. Since it hadn't had a lord for a long time, it was believed to be nearly collapsed. Mithrun was dispatched to investigate a nearby rash of disappearances and got taken in.

There's much more to talk about how the dungeons work, especially how it relates to Ancient Magic but I'll leave it for another post in the future. If you have any insights about the information here or if I've missed something important please share!

[onelonelyghost0]

OOOOO

Last song: S-Class by skz

Fav color: between red and black. They’re just amazing

Last book: the green witch (I had free time at work lmao)

Last TV show: it’s been so long since I’ve watched shows but can I say Game Theory? Does that count? I say it does.

Sweet/spicy/savory: depends, I just had a sweet brunch but I also love savory so….

Last thing I googled: traditional anniversary gifts. Yeah I know shut up

Current obsession: my random knowledge at work and also I’m about to dive into the skz music video lore. And uh. Apologies in advance for that lmao

Looking forward to: learning how to style my hair bc I cut it in a wolfcut yesterday! I got it done and I love it! Also getting a 2 year streak on Duolingo.

@rosefire03 @tastelessleather y’all wanna play?

Get to know me tag game!

I was tagged by: @felixcosm

Last song: Honest to god can't remember my spotify cleared it </3. Will Wood skeliton appreciation day is my best geuss and also one of my current favs

Favorite color: Pink or orange

Last book: God this is embarrassing, I honest to god dont remember. Last book I properly remember FINISHING was Unwind, and some of the sequels. Ive picked up and put down a couple books since then,,

Last TV show: 30 rock!!!!

Sweet/Spicy/Savory: Spicy but im not supposed to eat it after... The Incident. (aka acid reflux)

Last thing I googled: "what does anticipation do in pokemon" im not a nerd you're a nerd. Leave me alone! /silly

Current obsession: Ooohhhggg....Gravity falls still, I think

Looking forward to: Uhm. Ive got some groceries coming tomorrow and might get some of these noodles I like if theyre in stock. Thats somthing

Tagging: @astralphobia @abyssal-author-and-artist @thatguyoversea uhh ya

Blank vers:

Last song:

Favorite color:

Last book:

Last TV show:

Sweet/Spicy/Savory:

Last thing I googled:

Current obsession:

Looking forward to:

[itsabouttimex2]

Fun fact: In China, Chinese criminals were marked on their faces for life. Hot knives cut the flesh of prisoners, engraving characters on their foreheads. Later the ink was inserted into the open wounds to form words like “murderer”, “thief” and etc.

That’s such a morbidly neat fact, and thank your for sharing it with me! It actually got me looking around online, where I found a few articles about it!

It certainly provides some “encouragement” for Y/N to play along with whatever the kings want, after they tried to steal from the royal kitchen- there’s always the threat of a permanent criminal marking on the table.

(They wouldn’t actually do that to a kiddo, but Y/N doesn’t know that.)

Or worse- Y/N has already been punished for their former acts of theft, without the jurisdiction of either king who would have absolutely vetoed the notion of essentially mutilating a hungry child for stealing scraps from a graveyard or windowsill.

MK learning from his loving baba that only “bad people” get these tattoos and growing very, very upset no matter how his fathers try to comfort or soothe him, and for all they remind him that it “only happens to bad people”, it just pushes him closer and closer to the brink because-

“Y/N is not bad,” the boy wails, tears gushing from his big black eyes, sopping uselessly away into his golden father’s robe, both monkeys gently trying to comfort him.

“Shush, shush, shhh… Xiaotian, baby, please! No one said anything about Y/N!” Macaque tries to soothe, bouncing his son lightly.

“You did,” he bawls, kicking his little feet like any other toddler throwing a tantrum. “You did! Y-you said “bad people” have those tattoos! And- and- and Y/N is not bad!”

“Y/N has… someone gave them a penal tattoo?” Sun Wukong queries, unknowingly tightening his grip on the gilded handles of his throne. “…someone gave a starving orphan the mark of a dangerous criminal?”

“…I think we need to take a trip down to the village.”

[remarcely]

Batmanfic Prompt: WHAT IF Superman heard Jason come back to life?

The coffin, unfortunately, was so comfortable that when Jason woke up inside it he’d been tempted to roll over and go back to sleep. It was only when he knocked his elbow onto something hard and way too close that he opened his eyes. He didn’t see anything, they hadn’t exactly put a nightlight in for him, but he could still feel and his hands scrambled to touch everything inside the box. He knew that he was wearing a suit buttoned all the way up, which was weird because he never did the top button, and there was a slab of something solid laying flat above his face.

He had to bend his arms to press his palms against it, not having enough space to do much else, and shoved. It didn’t move so he shoved again and then again, the third attempt using his knees to try and force it open. No matter what Jason did, it wouldn’t budge.

It was as he laid there, panting, and growing dizzy for some reason, that he began to remember. He had no memory of crawling in a box or getting stuck under his bed, but he could recall a warehouse. There had been laughter, blood, and a steady beep as the countdown of a bomb grew ever closer. Jason swallowed hard as panic started to take hold. He hit the lid again, frantically this time, and thrashed his entire body in his desperate bid to escape because he knew where he was. He was packed underneath six feet of dirt and trapped in a box that no one had thought about putting air holes in.

Somewhere in his lashing out he’d begun to cry and plead to closed in air. He shouted for Bruce, begging to be let out and that he was sorry, and screamed for Alfred to find him. Jason even called out for Dick, even though they’d barely gotten on for the last few months after years of nothing but bitterness from the older boy.

His chest heaved as he hyperventilated with little oxygen to take in and, with his list of potential saviours running low, he recalled something Bruce had told him. If he was ever in trouble and Batman or Nightwing were too far away, then he should always shout for-

“SUPERMAN!” Jason wailed, slamming his head into the coffins lid and clawing at the wood. His nails ached and bled, but he continued to scratch away “PLEASE, SUPERMAN! BRUCE! HELP ME!”

His movements grew weaker and his head pounded. Jason slumped against the cushioning and, with his limbs too heavy to lift, sobbed. His tears rolled down his face, trailing over his cheeks and past his ears, to soak into the pillow beneath his head. He was dead. He was dead and no one was coming for him.

At least when he’d been half-beaten to death and inhaling smoke, he’d held onto hope that Batman would find him in time.

As Jasons eyes slowly closed and his inhales and exhales felt as if they were minutes apart, he heard something. It was muffled and hard to make out but, for a moment, Jason was sure he could hear someone calling his name.

-

It was midday in Metropolis and Clark Kent was on his lunch break. He was three bites into a disappointing BLT sandwich with far too much mayonnaise when he heard a voice, far outside the bounds of his city, call for Superman. That wasn’t rare in itself, neither was how young and distressed they sounded unfortunately, it was after the second time they called for Superman that Clark flinched.

“SUPERMAN! BRUCE! HELP ME!”

By the time his sandwich landed on the breakroom table, he was gone.

The voice had stopped screaming for help but Clark could hear them crying uncontrollably and that was enough to track down the source. He broke the sound barrier as he flew into Gotham and the ground was dug a few inches deep as he landed. Clark whirled around for the crying child, drowning out every other noise in the world to focus on them, and looked down with dread. They were underground. In a graveyard.

Clark raised his eyesight to the headstone planted above the child and stumbled. In expensive marble, carved in swirling font, was a familiar name and all of a sudden, the person screaming out for a ‘Bruce’ made alarming sense.

‘Here Lies Jason Todd’

Before he knew what he was doing, Clark was tearing away at the earth in chunks, throwing it behind him without care (and hopefully avoiding the surrounding headstones). As he moved deeper into the ground he lost the need for his enhanced hearing. While it was faint, Clark could make out the sound of Jason weakly crying out. He reached the coffin in a matter of seconds and didn’t hesitate to tear the lid away, breaking through its seal with ease.

Laid out on white satin lining, stained by red where his hands rested at his sides, was Jason Todd- oxygen deprived and passed out, but alive nonetheless.

“It’s going to be alright.” Clark whispered to the boy as he knelt down and carefully lifted him into his arms “I’ve got you, kiddo, you’re going to be just fine.”

As soon as Jason was securely tucked to his chest, Clark launched upwards and in the direction of Gotham’s nearest hospital.

[onelonelyghost0]

I use it toward figures who think they deserve it but they don’t. Bc I’m a bitch :)

i really love the phrase “with all due respect” because it doesn’t specify how much respect is due. could be none. bitch.

[lovemybluebully]

Salad is a Four Letter Word

Soooooo Venom seems to be popular again, especially with my new pal @ticklishdeadpool so this one is for you, buddy! 🍻

While I don't think I'm going to see the new movie I did decide to dig into my graveyard of abandoned fics. Found this WIP that I had started after the first movie came out and have now filled in all the gaps for your viewing pleasure. It was a little tricky as I haven't seen the movie in awhile, but hope I did okay. For that reason, I probably won't be writing anymore Venom fics for the current time, but at least this one will be out there now.

It's a totally nonsense-type of fic. lol Didn't really have anywhere that I was going with it so it had been abandoned, but still just fun, silly interactions between Eddie and Venom. With tickles of course! Me, write a fic without tickling? 🤣 Good one.

If you have a flesh-loving alien inside of you, you don't threaten to force him to eat salad. 😆

Venom (Movieverse)

Word Count: 2,546

"What are we doing here? We don't like this place."

Eddie let out an exasperated groan as he stood in the lobby of the hospital, waiting for the elevator to come back down.

"I already told you, Anne just wants to be safe and have Dan check me out. You know, just in case my body is having any adverse effects to you practically living inside me."

"We can assure you it is not," Venom gave an offended growl from inside of him just as the elevator doors opened.

"Yeah, well as much as I'd like to believe you we'll let the body scan decide that," Eddie nodded as he stepped into the elevator and pushed the button to the correct floor.

"Eddie doesn't trust us," the symbiote accused, prompting Eddie to roll his eyes as they moved up the floors of the building. For a powerful super alien from outer space he could sure be sensitive sometimes.

"Shut up, it's not that it's just that I need proof. I'm a reporter, and I like to have the facts."

"The fact is you're being a traitorous piece of shit."

The elevator finally stopped as they reached the selected floor and Eddie walked out into the hallway. He sighed heavily once he stopped in front of the door to Dan's office; his eyes looking up towards the ceiling as if trying to find his calm.

"Tell you what, if you behave here then we'll go get some McDonald's after this. Fair?"

"....Ok, deal. But lets make it a quick visit! I'm hungry!"

"You're always hungry," Eddie shook his head as he opened the door where the doctor and Anne were waiting.

"Hi Eddie, really nice to see you again," Dan welcomed him as he stood up from his desk and walked around to shake Eddie's hand.

"You too. Uh sorry we're late. My alarm didn't go off, and when I was trying to get out the door Venom was being his usual primadonna self and-Gaah!" Eddie grunted when a single symbiote tendril reached out and poked him in the ribs, just under the armpit.

"Keep talking, Eddie," Venom hissed threateningly; his head popping out from his host's back and wrapping himself over the wide shoulders.

"Well now I see who wears the pants in this relationship," Dan laughed, but it died out when Eddie gave him an annoyed glare, not finding his joke amusing in the slightest.

"It's a good thing you're a doctor and not a comedian."

"And it's a good thing you're a reporter and not a giant loser....oh wait," Venom snickered to himself while Eddie glared back at him.

"That's it. Deal's off."

"NOOOOO!!!" Venom wailed in sorrow as Eddie gave a smug grin and reconfirmed his earlier comment.

"See? Primadonna."

"Come on, guys, take it easy. This will all be quick and painless," Anne tried to break it up, though always finding their antics to be amusing.

"Yeah, it shouldn't be bad at all. Very standard procedure. So if you're ready we can get this all underway."

Eddie was then handed a hospital gown to change into as Dan led the way down to the lab.

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

"Alright, buddy, we're gonna do an MRI now, and I know you don't like that so take a hike for a minute," Eddie instructed the alien as he gestured a thumb away from himself.

"Do I have to?"

"Just do it, would ya?"

"Ohhh ok," Venom grumbled as he seeped out of Eddie onto the floor, mostly forming into a blob, but with a serpent-like head extending out. Eddie blinked for a moment and then smirked down at the symbiote.

"You know, I never noticed how cute you actually look like that."

"We are not cute!" Venom glared up at him as Anne looked the symbiote over and nodded.

"You kinda are," she agreed with a grin, causing Venom to hiss and slither off out of the room.

"Well lets get this over with before Venom has a heart attack from not eating for thirty minutes," Eddie joked, purposely saying it loud enough for the alien to hear.

"It's been an hour, you prick!"

"Ooooh sorry, one whole hour! Someone better call CPS on me," Eddie rolled his eyes and climbed up onto the table. He then laid down with his arms at his sides as Anne looked back at Dan to give him the go ahead.

"Alright, we're all set. Here goes nothing," Dan said over the speaker as he controlled the conveyor to slide into the tube until only Eddie's legs and feet were sticking out, "Now try not to move and this won't take long."

"Got it," Eddie nodded, but with the position he was in Anne couldn't resist teasing him a little.

"Comfy in there?" Anne grinned playfully, running a finger up the bottom of Eddie's bare foot as the man yelped and jerked his leg.

"He-Hey! Well not when you do THAT!"

"Sorry, it's just too easy," she briefly tickled his other foot receiving another squawk of objection as Eddie pulled up his knees to put his feet flat on the table.

"Heehee, stop it!"

"Get him again, Anne," Venom goaded into the microphone from where he sat next to Dan inside the control room as Eddie yelled back at him.

"Shut your mouth, parasite!"

Dan was trying to remain professional, but had to use his hand to cover his mouth so he could hide his amused smile.

"Lay still, please. Anne, leave the patient alone."

Anne smirked, giving him a wink as she walked away to join Dan and Venom. Once he saw that she was at a safe distance Eddie put his legs back down.

A few moments later the machine came to life and began the in-depth scan, while the three observed on the monitors in the control room. After a minute of looking at the pictures on the screens Dan cleared his throat.

"Hmm. Well that's interesting...," the doctor trailed off in his thought, making Eddie assume something was wrong.

"What? What do you see?! He hasn't been snacking on my organs, has he?! Venom!"

"Actually everything looks perfectly normal. Organs are all intact, no restrictions in your blood flow, heart looks healthy, brain functions are top notch. All in all I'd say you check out just fine. It's incredible," Dan put his hands up in astonishment as he sat back in his chair.

"So you're saying that having Venom inside of him hasn't done any damage whatsoever?"

Anne was just as surprised to learn this new information as Dan shook his head in response.

"Not that I can see, no."

"Told you, pussy," Venom sneered haughtily, slithering out of the control room back into view while the conveyor drew Eddie out of the machine.

"Well that's a relief," Eddie sat up and immediately began putting his clothes back on, "Guess I can sleep better tonight knowing that this parasite inside me isn't leeching off of my body so much."

"That can easily change if Eddie keeps calling us names...," the symbiote growled as Eddie just shook his head with an amused smirk. Dan then walked out into the room, scribbling some notes onto a clipboard.

"Alright, well since we're all done with that it's safe for Venom to get back into your body now."

"Yes!" Venom whooped as he quickly hurled himself at Eddie, knocking him back onto the table.

"Hey! Watch it!" Eddie grunted as he then found himself forced off of the table to his feet.

"Come on, lets go Eddie! Now!" Venom shouted as he took control and yanked Eddie's body across the room towards the door much to the surprise of the other two.

"Uhh, goodbye?" Anne gave an awkwardly half-wave.

"I promised him McDonaaaaaaald's!" Eddie's voice faded as Venom violently drug him out of the room.

A SHORT WHILE LATER....

"Happy now?" Eddie asked with a sickened frown as he recanted watching Venom devour over ten quarter pounder cheeseburgers. The alien belched in response from inside of him as they walked down the sidewalk.

"Yes. That will probably hold us over for another hour or so."

"You know, you're a pretty expensive date," Eddie groaned as he looked into his wallet, only having a few dollars remaining now.

"Would you rather we ate a human instead?"

"Uhhh no, heh. No, I'd appreciate if you didn't do that," he laughed nervously as he glanced around at all the people on the busy street that Venom could easily snatch up if he so desired.

"Well then you shouldn't complain. Besides, you love us."

"In a really screwed up kinda way, yeah I guess so," Eddie smirked, "Now shut up, will ya? People are gonna think I'm crazy if they see me walking around and talking to myself."

"People already think we are crazy," Venom pointed out, making Eddie shake his head.

"Not complete strangers. Now not another word until we get back home. Got it?"

"But Eddie we can't stay quiet that long..."

Eddie just kept his mouth closed, pretending he didn't hear anything.

"Eddie...."

Still Eddie continued to ignore him

"EddieEddieEddieEddieEddie!"

Eddie just continued facing forward as he focused on getting back to his apartment down the street.

"Ignore me will you...," Venom then grinned slyly as he crept out underneath Eddie's jacket to stay unseen and then gently squeezed the man's shirt covered ribs, making his body jerk in an unusual fashion.

"Gggnnh! You little...!" Eddie yelled just as he was passing a mother with her child, who looked at him accusingly as she pulled her daughter closer and hurried on.

"I'm...I'm sorry, I didn't mean....Not her, I just....," he tried to explain himself as he stammered after them to no avail, hearing the mother mention something to the little girl about, 'That is why you don't do drugs'.

Venom chuckled at how perfect the timing of that had been as Eddie growled.

"Alright, very funny. Now stay still and stay quiet," he muttered, trying not to move his lips too much as his outburst had attracted some unwanted eyes.

He'd made it another half a block before his sides were being attacked again as he stumbled and clamped his arms down.

"Eeheehee!" He gave a high-pitched giggle, prompting some of the street vendors to give him odd looks as he blushed and tried to walk a little faster.

"Will you stop? You're making me look insane."

"Can we talk again?"

"No!" Eddie hissed, "Just keep your fucking mouth shut, and wait until we-Ehahahah!"

The tentacled goo dug into his armpits for a few moments as Eddie squirmed in place and laughed wildly.

"No, not there!" He yelped just as the tickling stopped, looking up to find people had paused on the street to stare at him with curious eyes.

"I uh...heh.....I'm just uhhh....," when he couldn't think of any kind of believable explanation he quickly just turned and walked away again.

"I hate you so much right now," he whispered loudly through gritted teeth, hearing Venom laugh from within and knowing he was getting a big kick out of making Eddie look like a fool.

"Think that's funny? Well guess who's eating nothing but salads for the next week or two."

Venom's snickers immediately were cut off as he was now silent for a moment.

".....You're bluffing," his voice was full of uncertainty and worry and that made Eddie smirk, knowing he had the upper hand now.

"Tickle me again and find out, fucker," Eddie threatened vaguely, and just let Venom stew in his thoughts for now about whether he was being serious or not.

It seemed to work as he had now made it a few blocks without incident, even stopping to have a nice chat with Mrs. Chen when he came across her sweeping up her store front.

"Evening, Mrs. Chen."

"Hello Eddie. Not going to buy a chocolate bar today like usual?"

"No, no chocolate. I was thinking about going on a diet actually," Eddie smirked slightly as he rubbed at his stomach.

"Ohhh, he's not going to like that," she smiled, referring to Venom and knowing that he was the one who had the sweet tooth.

"Well it's for his own good. Besides he's been misbehaving a lot lately so I had to put my foot down. Say you don't happen to sell any saHAAlads, do yoohou?" His body spasmed out of nowhere as the shop keeper gave him a concerned look.

"What's wrong, Eddie? Are you ok?"

"Yeah, I'm f-INE! I'm juhust....Venom keeps....teehehehehee...I...I gotta go-ho, Mrs. Chen," Eddie stuttered through his giggles as he gave her a wave and continued on his way down the street.

"Don't worry, dear, he'll be back for that chocolate," Mrs. Chen called to Venom with a smile as the alien peeked out from under the back of Eddie's jacket and gave her a wink.

"V! What did I tell you?!" Eddie spat once they were out of earshot, "You really want to eat nothing but salads for a week?!"

All was quiet for a few moments before Venom finally gave a reply that made Eddie's skin crawl.

"Worth it."

A split second later and the tendrils were everywhere on his upper body; this time staying underneath his t-shirt to get directly at the bare skin. They were wriggling all over from his hips and belly all the way up his sides into his armpits, and there was nothing Eddie could do to try to hide his reactions.

The man was in a laughing fit now as he nearly fell over but managed to find his footing and continued to hurry down the sidewalk despite all the people staring at the hysterically laughing man as he went by. The tickling was unrelenting this time as he desperately looked for some kind of escape.

He finally was able to duck down an alleyway, stumbling and tripping over a garbage can as he went further down. After giving a brief look to make sure no one was around he collapsed with his back against a wall and shouted through his laughter.

"Okaaahaay! Okaahaahaaay! Hahahaha! You caahaan tahahalk agahahain! Now pleeeheease st....stop tihihickling meeheee!" His arms uselessly pressed to his sides as he kicked out and squirmed.

"And the salads.....?" Venom pressed with goo squirming up to tickle the reporter's sensitive neck as well, making him squeal out giggles.

"A johohoke! Juhuhust a johohohoke! Ahaahahaheeheehee! Plehehease buhuhuddy! I'm sohohorry!" Eddie shouted for mercy and was grateful when it was granted to him as he tried to calm down and get his breath back. Venom then popped out of his jacket to give him a shit-eating smile.

"Nice of you to come around, Eddie."

"....You're an asshole," Eddie glared playfully at him, giving him a small shove.

"Takes one to know one."

"Yeah? I thought I was a pussy?"

"Yes, but you're our pussy," the symbiote replied as Eddie's face gradually twisted in revulsion.

"Uhhh, thanks? I mean, that hardly sounds like a compliment, but thanks?"

"The best pussy we've ever had," Venom grinned proudly, in his mind thinking that had sounded better as Eddie only sighed and put his face in his palms.

"Please stop."

"Definitely the biggest."

"You can still eat me, right?"

[onelonelyghost0]

My sister: gen z is more likely to sajo then Hamilton

Me: ofc I’d recognize a short king

My sister: HES 6’3”

Me: I was talking about HAMILTON

Why do either of us know these facts

[onelonelyghost0]

Let’s play a game

let your moots tell you which one you are!!!

[aspionagee]

Hi, again! Just wanted to share another little snippet of A Patchwork Family's sequel with you all. I do dearly miss uploading regularly, and I'm hoping to have something officially up on ao3 soon! I'll keep you updated as things progress. As for right now, here's another snippet from chapter 1.

Severus wanted to vomit as he saw it in his head again. Blood and bone. Harry's dull eyes. Cedric Diggory’s crumpled corpse, half-hidden by his screaming, sobbing father… If their roles had been reversed, how would Serverus have reacted? Would his grief have been silent and withheld, or would his last few strands of sanity be snipped away, rendering him a screaming, wailing hysteric?

Even now, Severus wasn’t entirely certain he was holding it together as he stared at the small body of his son, unconscious in a hospital bed. The sight of it felt like a poison-tipped blade being slowly, steadily twisted into his gut.

Harry had been bled for the Dark Lord's purposes. He trembled against his will with the aftermath of the Cruciatus Curse. Something in the child’s spirit had been slaughtered in that graveyard.

Severus had never craved murder as fiercely as he did now.

He pictured the Dark Lord suffering in countless ways. Writhing under the Cruciatus Curse. Bleeding out from a well-cast Sectumsempra. Scrabbling at his throat while a poison filled his lungs with blood…

The Death Eater inside of him longed for suffering.

Making Severus a father had been dangerous. He couldn't forget how it felt to clutch Harry against his chest and carry him to the Hospital Wing, a dead weight like a corpse in his arms. Was he really supposed to witness the last shreds of innocence be ripped from his son and not bay for blood?