#anywho!! *dies casually*

[kirimikisser]

WHIM ON THE GRASS!!!!!! look at him go!

#Oc #Digital art #idk what im doing #look at them tho #i like the lighting #what am i even talking about #no clue #uhh hi #anywho!! *dies casually*

[daistea]

If you ever have the time, would you ever feel like taking a request with mithrun x an elf reader who's been taking care of him for a while? I've been thinking that they'd know of each other pre-demon, but weren't well acquainted (different circles, and reader is more introverted (like misril)) at the time until post-demon where they help nurse him to health and mayhaps join the canaries as a healer/support for the group.

If that's too specific, that's fine! You can take liberties.

If youre like "yeah that plain just won't happen with mithrun/hes not like that", that's fine! You don't need to write it if you don't want to

I don't want to force you or anything; it's just something that's been floating in my mind, recently!

Of course my friend! You asked so nicely <3

I think I’ll use she/her pronouns for the reader with this one if that’s cool! 

Sooooo I’m assuming Mithrun was one of the Wardens in his squad. I don’t recall if it ever mentioned if he was in the first squad or the second. If it’s the second, then Milsiril might’ve been the Vice-Captain of his specific squad at the time, and Mithrun was her second in command like Pattadol is to him now. Cus u know Pattadol is second in command because she’s nobility, and Mithrun is nobility.. Yadda yadda. Let’s just go with that for simplicity’s sake. And since there’s only two Wardens to a squad, I’ve taken the liberty of making the reader a criminal, but it’s for something stupid like… jaywalking lol. Jaywalking using black magic. Or uh maybe using black magic to heal. Both? Two criminal charges, you rebel you

anywho..

tw suicide, mental illness, self harm, blood

Dungeon Meshi Spoilers ahead! 

4500ish words

"Vignettes of a 40 Year Old Desire" - Mithrun x elf/healer female reader

●・○・●・○・●

Getting started was the hardest part.

You took a deep breath, your hands hovering over the wound. The slice in Mithrun’s arm was clean, with no brutal ridges. It would scar, but it would be a straight, neat white line on his skin when it was over. Even Mithrun’s wounds were perfect. 

“Are you okay?” He asked. His voice was soft, and it reminded you of warm blankets on winter days. Your eyes flickered up to meet his and he offered a smile. 

“Yeah,” you said. You sat beside him with your legs curled up beneath you. He sat with his legs criss-crossed, casual as if his bicep hadn’t just been nearly sliced open by the sword of a living armor. He had to be in pain, it was a deep wound. You’d managed to stop the excessive bleeding, but the paleness of his cheeks betrayed that he was feeling weak. 

Still, starting was the hardest part. 

You summoned your stores of mana, connecting to the spirits that made up the world. They were all around you, willing to obey, willing to lay upon Mithrun’s wound and graft his skin back together. A soft light glowed from beneath your palm as you ran your fingers around the edges of the wound. You weren’t sure why getting started was difficult for you, perhaps it was the feeling of magic pulsing through your veins that startled you, or the very fact that you had the ability to defy nature in this way. And there was that little bell that rang in the back of your mind, that urge to go further, deeper, darker. 

That damn bell and its ringing had gotten your ears clipped. 

You pulled back from Mithrun, letting your hands drop into your lap. “Done,” was all you said.

He blinked in surprise, then lifted his arm to inspect the spot where he’d been sliced. There was a faint scar, but it would probably fade if he got some sun. His lips twitched into a frown at the sight, but that expression immediately died, pushed aside and replaced with a smile. Mithrun didn’t need the sun, actually, he carried enough shine in his smiles…. Is what someone stupid would say. 

“Thank you,” his voice was soft, polite. He pushed down the sleeve of his canary uniform and rolled his shoulders. Nearby, the rest of the team was setting up camp for the night. They laughed and passed around a wineskin. There was a spot on the ground between two of your peers, saved for Mithrun. Milsiril was a distance away with her back pressed against the wall and her knees pulled up to her chest. She had a sewing needle that she meticulously threaded through the body of a ragdoll. 

You expected Mithrun to stand up and cross the room to join the others. Yet, he didn’t. He stared at you, two silver eyes filled with curiosity. You returned the look and raised a brow as if to silently ask what he needed. 

Finally, Mithrun offered a slightly bashful smile, “You don’t really socialize much, do you? Oh,” he perked up, eyes widening, “I don’t mean that in a bad way, of course. I mean, you’re shy, right? I just don’t know that much about you.”

And that drove him mad. 

You were entirely too aware of Mithrun’s true nature. The others were too busy basking in his light, caught up in his orbit, trapped in his web. Even Milsiril deigned to notice. She could’ve if she wanted, she simply didn’t want to— it would be like looking in the sun, and once you got past the blinding light and actually looked, you would already be burnt. 

You saw the looks on his face when nobody was looking. You didn’t mean to see them, you didn’t mean to stare, but it had become a habit to watch his reactions. There was a flicker of irritation in his eyes sometimes, the hint of a frown when someone didn’t play his game exactly how he planned. There were moments when his shoulders would tense and his smile would turn tight. There were moments he’d avoid answering questions about himself and turn the subject around on the inquirer to keep his history and feelings and thoughts hidden behind a very sturdy, well-guarded wall. 

You were more interested in him than you’d like to admit. You’d drawn several conclusions: Mithrun genuinely enjoyed the company of others, but he couldn’t help himself, he couldn’t help but scowl when they weren’t looking and judge their decisions and look down on everything they said and did. He even did it to you.

Which was precisely why you avoided him for the most part. You didn’t want him to know more about you, to provide more ammunition so he could reload his weapon and fire it straight into your back. 

So, all you had to say was, “Yeah, we don’t really talk much.” And you smiled as innocently as you could before standing up and wandering to a corner near Milsiril. 

Mithrun’s eyes lingered on your back. He was probably making that face he made when displeased that his charm didn’t work; analytical, a hint of darkness, one could practically see the red-inked assumptions scribbling onto parchment in his head, destined to be filed under a wildly critical and exaggerated category and kept there until the end of time. 

You only wished you understood why he was like that. 

Mithrun disappeared without warning. The squad had been dispatched to the Central Observation Tower because yet another person had disappeared in the area. Mithrun offered to take his friend’s scouting duty into a dark tunnel because she was afraid of spiders and was convinced that there were millions of them in that specific dark tunnel. Milsiril offered to send you along with him, but at that time you were trying to heal a sprained ankle of another squad member. Mithrun waved a dismissive hand and smiled, “It’s no problem. I’ll be fine on my own, but thanks!”

That was the last you saw of him. 

Milsiril had someone slumped on her arm. She held them up, breathing heavily and covered in dirt and blood and dirty blood. You rushed toward the scene. The person had silver hair caked with quickly drying streaks of red. His head lolled. But he was breathing. Thank goodness, he was breathing. 

Milsiril gently laid Mithrun on the ground. Immediately, you sat beside him, your hands on his cheeks and forcing open his eyes— eye. Singular. The right one was a mess. There was no time to question that, though. You summoned a light spell and opened his eyelid and black irises greeted you. Weren’t his eyes silver before? It was dim, too. Yet, his chest moved up and down and his heart was still beating. You let go of his face and he closed his eyes again, head lolling to the side as he let out a soft exhale. 

“So, this is where he’s been?” You asked Milsiril.

She nodded, “He became the dungeon lord. This place…” she glanced up at the twisted walls and long corridors that led to nowhere. There were monster corpses nearby. So many monsters, strong ones, weird ones with horrific teeth and eyes. “It’s a representation of him. I never knew…”

You knew, sort of. You just didn’t think it would get to this level. You didn’t think he’d fall to the demon. You didn’t think—

There was no time for thinking. You had to get started on healing him. For once, getting started wasn’t so hard, not when your heart raced, not when you were desperate for someone to live.

When Mithrun was conscious again, you offered your hand to help him stand. 

He didn’t take it. 

Of one thing you were certain: Mithrun of the house of Kerensil had no desire to live.

“You should’ve let me die.”

You perked up at the sound of his voice. It was the first time Mithrun had spoken in perhaps a month, and his vocal cords betrayed that fact. His voice was scratchy with disuse, and it was a struggle for him to speak. As you glanced over your shoulder to look at him, he didn’t bother meeting your eyes. His gaze was on the window near his bed, but he wasn’t looking at anything, not really.

“I should’ve let you die?” You echoed. You could hear the anger in your own voice. Mithrun didn’t care, you knew.

He simply nodded. A lock of silver fell over his bony shoulder. His collarbones were too pronounced. The sight made a fire start in your chest. 

“Mithrun?” You asked. 

He turned his head to look at you. One eye, as black as an endless pit, landed on your face. The other was covered by bandages. 

And he waited. He didn’t actually care about what you had to say, you knew. But you had to say it. 

“Don’t ever say those words to me again.”

Mithrun only stared, “Alright.”

Then he returned his attention to the window that he was not looking out of. 

You don’t know when or why you started to care so much. 

You’d always cared about people. You’d always wanted to help. But you didn’t even really like Mithrun before the dungeon incident. Now, his recovery was all you could focus on. And you were absolutely obsessed with the state of things. 

“I don’t know what to do,” his brother whispered, desperate, “I’ve hired so many caretakers but they just don’t do anything for him. I mean, they do things, but he’s not getting any better.”

Someone had to break the news to him. “I don’t think anything we do is going to make him any better.”

“I want him to be better,” his brother furrowed his brows and took a deep breath.

You wanted the same. But for now, all you could do was keep Mithrun alive. As long as he ate and slept and breathed, that was good enough for now. That was all he could manage. 

You visited the Kerensil family home more often these days. You weren’t sure why, but you cared. When he screamed at night and scratched himself to the point of bleeding, you healed him without a word. When he got ahold of a kitchen knife and put it to his throat, you wrestled it away from him, then helped his brother install locks on all the cabinets and drawers. When Mithrun snuck out at night to go slaughter every goat within a 50 mile radius, you cleaned the blood from his hair and hands. 

You’d basically moved in. The captain had given you permission to dedicate time to Mithrun’s healing, since they would’ve liked to have him join again once he was better. To the other Canaries, this was part of your sentence. To you, this was part of your purpose. 

You and Mithrun talked a lot. You talked the most. He stayed quiet, so you weren’t sure if you could consider it as actually holding a conversation. You weren’t sure if he was even listening. But once, when you were softly explaining the importance of getting rune shapes exactly right, you stopped and stared at your hands. You’d begun to enter dark territory, the study of black magic that had brought you to this place in life. 

The silence stretched on for a minute or two before Mithrun tilted his head. His hair was splayed out on his pillow and his good eye was open, blinking, slightly alert. 

“Continue,” he said. 

So you continued. And he stared at the ceiling. And you knew that he was listening. He didn’t care, of course, but he was listening. 

One night, Mithrun nearly hit a vital organ with a piece of glass from the bathroom mirror that he’d shattered. 

You healed it, the light from your hands growing brighter than usual. Your shoulders were tense and you couldn’t help but scowl and growl and mutter. 

Mithrun just looked at you, “You know this isn’t what I want.”

“I don’t care,” you answered immediately.

He grit his teeth, “I don’t want to live.”

“I want you to live!” You exploded. He flinched backward, but no emotion passed over his face. He simply stared. You gulped down your feelings and continued healing him. 

Maybe that was selfish of you. You didn’t care. 

Milsiril was a mother. Milsiril was a caretaker. Milsiril was a toymaker and she knew how to wind them up and set them on the path again. 

“I’m ready to go back into the dungeon,” Mithrun said. His voice was still scratchy, but he was sitting up on his bed for once. He’d gained a few pounds and his shoulders weren’t sharp as knives anymore.

Milsiril only shook her head, “Not yet, I’m sorry.”

Mithrun looked at you as if he expected you to ally with him. You knew him the best, you knew what he wanted in life. You even knew what his secret desire was, the one he couldn’t admit to himself. 

You shook your head as well, “You’re still underweight and you haven’t quite gotten the hang of taking care of yourself yet.”

Mithrun’s expression only darkened, “Then let’s keep practicing.”

Where Milsiril was more concerned with making Mithrun socially acceptable enough to rejoin society, you were much more concerned about his living conditions, health, and dignity. It was a relief that he’d stopped trying to pick the locks on the knife drawer. It was not a relief that Mithrun was planning for his inevitable death against the demon— not that he’d admit that. 

He wanted different things now. No longer was his goal to die from withering away, but rather to die at the hands of the god who once served him. Still, it involved him dying. There was this feeling you had inside, comparable to the feeling you had when you were first being hunted by the Canaries. You knew it was inevitable that they would find you and jail you or make you join them. Anticipation rose in your chest until it finally burst when they tied up your wrists and clipped your ears. 

Now, anticipation was rising again. It had been rising for the last twenty or so years that you’d spent at Mithrun’s side. You could only wonder when it would burst, and when you’d end up as scraps on the floor like the shreds of a popped balloon. You could only wonder. 

When Mithrun rejoined the Canaries, you went with him. He said nothing about that. You were the one who cut his hair shorter for functionality reasons. You were the one who delivered his new uniform and made sure it fit. You were the one who sat on his back as he did push ups for training— which was actually the most fun with him you’d had in the last twenty years. It was kind of silly, but it was good to see him willing to do things like exercise and challenge himself, even if his end goal was just to reach the demon. 

There was a lot of teasing involved when you two returned to the Canaries. 

“Are you in love with him or something?” Helki asked behind his hand. He cast a glance at Mithrun, who was sitting nearby and silently staring out the window. 

You made a face, “With Mithrun? No. I love him, but not like that.”

“Are you sure?” He snorted, “You’ve been like his little wife for the last few decades.”

“I don’t think I would consider all that as wife-like,” you retorted. 

“Why do you do it, then?”

Was it truly so impossible for someone to comprehend caring for another individual without expecting something in return? Or not having a motive? You supposed there was a motive, but it wasn’t romance. You just… cared. You wanted him to stay alive and get better. And he was relatively better, now. Relatively. 

You patted Helki’s shoulder, “Because he’s my friend. Nothing more.”

You didn’t notice, but Mithrun’s head tilted. He always listened to you, even when you didn’t think so.

“Can you help her?” Flamela jutted a thumb toward where you and Mithrun sat. Her voice, louder than everybody else’s in the Canary’s headquarters, caught your attention. Mithrun kept his arms crossed and his gaze on the recruits training outside.

Cithis blinked in surprise. Her eyes landed on you and you returned the look with a hesitant smile. 

“It’s a lot to explain,” Flamela continued, “but Captain Mithrun needs help and [name] needs a break.”

Your brows furrowed. You hadn’t expressed needing a break before. You were fine. You liked taking care of Mithrun. Yet before you could protest, Flamela was already walking away. And Cithis stood there with her hands folded and her eyes curious, analyzing. 

Dread settled into your chest.

“You’re not some helpless baby, Mithrun,” you didn’t mean to yell, nor pace, nor gesture so wildly with your hands, but you couldn’t help it. “You’re not a dog, not a slave, not someone who can be exploited for entertainment! You’re a person and you deserve respect!”

Mithrun only raised a brow, “So, you’re mad at me.”

“I’m not mad at you,” you snapped, sounding quite mad at him. Yet you pulled yourself together and took a deep breath, “No, Mithrun, I’m not mad at you. It’s not your fault. I just wish people saw you as more than what you’re going through. You’re the damn Captain of the Canaries now, you’ve risen above some really tough shit and you’re capable and strong and—”

Lord. 

The realization hit you like a slap to the face. 

You froze, mouth hanging open, eyes on Mithrun. He only stared, as he tended to do, waiting for you to say something. But you couldn’t. You’d been slapped in the face by reality and now everything ached. 

“I’ve got to go,” you managed to squeak out before running toward the door. You left his bedroom behind and darted down the hallway of the Canaries Headquarters. You shared a room with a few other criminals, but they weren’t there when you burst inside and collapsed onto your bed. You were in your late 100’s yet there you were, screaming into your pillow like a 60 year old. 

You’re in love.

“I’m in love,” you said out loud, which you immediately regretted because that made things real. 

You’re in love. You’re in love. You’re in love and it hurts so much because Mithrun could never love you back. Were you a masochist? Probably. Your heart hurt. You suddenly understood the concept of heartbreak, it felt as if your heart was about to physically fall apart. Realizing that you’re in love should be a happy moment. It shouldn’t hurt so much. 

Alright, you decided. You’re going to ignore it like an adult. You’re going to take this secret to the grave. 

Captain Mithrun’s team was a mess. 

But they were fun. 

“Hey,” Lycion elbowed you one night at the dinner table. He leaned down to whisper while you were mid-bite of a piece of chicken. “Do you think the Captain would let me check out the fighting scene on that island? Like, we could put off the whole negotiations thing for a day so I can go see it?”

Mithrun personally wouldn’t care, you knew, but he would refuse Lycion’s request for the sake of getting into the dungeon faster. You swallowed your food and sent him a glance, “Why’re you asking me? Pattadol’s the one that does all the decision stuff with Mithru— the Captain.”

“But you know him best.”

True enough. Still, you were just the healer, still a criminal sentenced to another 40 or so years of Canary service. You sent Lycion an apologetic smile, “Sorry. I don’t think he would.”

“Can you ask him?” Lycion used that purring voice he always utilized on certain targets unwilling to obey. 

You remained unaffected, “I don’t see why you think me asking him would make a difference.”

“The Captain would do anything you asked!” He explained, “Within reason, of course. You’re his girl.”

Your heart skipped a beat and you forced the satisfaction down. “I’m not his girl. And he pretty much does whatever anyone tells him to do as long as it doesn’t interfere with his goals, so I’m not any different.”

“You’re blind,” Lycion muttered, “so blind.”

Mithrun had been pulled into the stupid pit thing or whatever with that stupid Kabru guy. You were going to pull your hair out. 

When he reunited with the Canaries, he actually looked rather well-taken care of. You begrudgingly admitted that Kabru may not be as stupid as you thought, but you couldn’t let go of your anger at the entire situation. You still wanted to pull your hair out, mostly because you were resisting the urge to wrap your arms around the Captain and squeeze until your bodies melted together. 

Mithrun noticed your stress and slowly approached you. He patted your head, “I’m fine,” he said. 

He could be shot in the chest and he’d still claim to be fine. 

“When this is all over,” you managed to say through the fog of anger and worry and adoration and fury, “we’re taking a holiday. We’ll go to the Eastern Archipelago and we’re sitting on the beach and we’re going to do very safe things like build sandcastles or take naps.”

Mithrun looked down at you. He stared, as was his tendency. Then he raised both brows and you thought that just for a second, there was a hint of a smile on his lips. An affectionate smile. Perhaps it was hopeful thinking, an illusion brought forth by stress. You weren’t sure. 

His hand that was on your head slowly ran down the side of your cheek and to your chin, lifting your face so you’d look at him. He didn’t hold you for long, though, letting his arm drop to his side when he had your attention. “When we have time, I will go where you go,” he said. 

You wanted to smack him in his stupid beautiful face for being so sweet. What was wrong with him? Was he in a good mood? You could only narrow your eyes in suspicion. 

Of course, Mithrun walked away after that, back to the mission at hand. Yet his words echoed. I will go where you go. 

That was more like something you would say to him. You’ve made the decision to be at his side for the last 40 years. You would follow him to the ends of the earth. 

Surely, he didn’t mean it. 

But then again, Mithrun wasn’t in the habit of lying unless it served his purpose. And he wouldn’t lie to you, of all people. Surely not. 

The demon was gone and Mithrun had lost his purpose in life. 

How scary, you thought. How terrifying to lose your one reason for living. You’d most likely be on the ground, slumped up against a tree and expecting to wither away just like him. But unlike you, Mithrun had people who cared for him, who wouldn’t accept that fate for him, who loved him. 

Senshi and Kabru said their pieces. The Canaries all agreed with a chorus of encouragement and opinions and friendship. 

You offered your hand, like you always did, like you’d been doing for the last four decades. 

He took it. 

Mithrun placed his hand in yours. And the anticipation bubble that had been building in your chest for so long finally popped. But you were okay. It was okay. He was okay. 

Mithrun pardoned you, surprisingly. You told him that wasn’t necessary and that he should use his pardon on someone else who had a longer sentence. There were only 40 years left for you. Surely they wouldn’t be as long as the last 40 years had been. 

“No, it's you I want,” Mithrun said rather casually, “you’re staying with me in Melini.”

He wanted something. He wanted you. 

You forced yourself to stay upright, “Alright. If you insist.”

Living with Mithrun in this state was very different. It was fun, heartbreaking, difficult, easy, calm, chaotic. Some days, he laid in bed and stared at the wall. Other days, he made noodles and walked through the forest and sat on the beach with you, doing very safe things like building sandcastles and taking naps. Many people in town assumed you two were married. You always corrected them, Mithrun never did. 

He observed monsters and would need healing sometimes. You would push up the sleeve of his tunic and trace your fingers along old scars, none of them perfect. Then, heal him, as you tend to do. 

“Are you sure you want this?” Mithrun asked one day. 

You looked up to meet his eyes. Ink black, your favorite color. “What?”

“You can spend your life any way you want now,” he explained, his voice flat, “you’re free. I’m not your burden anymore.”

Your heart clenched in your chest. “You have never been a burden to me.”

“I used to hate you for keeping me alive.”

“I know.”

“And you never hated me?”

“I sometimes did,” you admitted softly, fingers tracing over his skin. You recalled this certain scar, from a pair of scissors you wrestled out of his hands at two in the morning years ago. “But it was the kind of hate that only stems from love.”

“You have always treated me like a human,” Mithrun murmured. His free hand went to your chin and lifted your face, “Like someone that deserves to live. You loved me despite my inability to give you anything in return. But I’m able now,” he leaned closer, “so allow me this.”

Damn. That had to be the first time you’d ever heard Mithrun say anything like tha—

He was kissing you.

It took you a moment to realize what was happening. His lips were on yours and your heart felt as if it might explode. Your hands shook as you raised them, eventually finding their way to his hair. That felt right. This was right. He deepened the kiss, slowly pushing forward. It was slow and careful and calm. It held so many words that neither of you were able to say. As he gently ran his hand up your thigh and to your hips, you couldn’t help but shiver. 

40 years of longing accumulated into this moment. In a dark house in a new kingdom in a demon-free world, you started something new, and for once it wasn’t difficult at all. 

#sorry if this bad it reads badly to me #but I had fun writing it #I don't rly do hurt comfort often #if that's not what you were looking for or expecting then I'm sorry! #I just got brainworms about this specific thing #mithrun #dungeon meshi #asks #delicious in dungeon #mithrun of the house of kerensil #dunmeshi #mithrun x reader #dungeon meshi x reader #dungeon meshi spoilers #spoilers #reader insert #x reader #female reader #the canaries #my writing

[theamberfist]

Good evening my dear! I positively adore your writing! Especially 'Leave it all on the dancefloor' I LOVE HOW YOU DID ALASTOR'S DYNAMICS WITH THE READER HESHGDEG I WANNA PUT THEM IN MY POCKET I LOVE FRIENDSHIP!

Anywho, I was wondering since your requests are open if you'd write a platonic Susan fic? Like Susan and grandchild reader where the grandchild prevents Susan from being, well Susan to everyone else? Maybe some wholesome bonding moments? If you're okay with writing it!

- Radioisntdead 📻

❀ AHHHHH I'm so honored that you like my writing!!!! Of course I'd be happy to write for grandma Susan!!! She doesn't tend to get a lot of content at all tbh but this sparked inspiration for me so there will be more! Thank you SO much for the request I hope you enjoy!!! ❀

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The Susan Whisperer | Grandma Susan + Reader

Familial! Grandma Susan + Grandchild Reader

Description: After waking up in hell, you end up finding Cannibal Town, a peculiar little territory that also just so happens to be the home of your long-dead grandmother, whom everyone is happy to now make you responsible for.

(Notes: CW cannibalism, death) (gender neutral reader) (Reader is Susan's grandchild from when she was alive)

Words: 2,125

When you opened your eyes, you were surprised to find that you weren't in your bedroom anymore, as you'd expected. Not only that, but the place smelled...Well, horrible. 

Sitting up and looking around, it didn't take long for you to realize you weren't on Earth anymore. Or at least, not a version of it you'd ever seen. Everyone looked different and there was so much red. It was also horrendously hot, but no one around you seemed bothered; as if they were used to the insane temperature. 

Trying to remain calm, you stood up and went over to the friendliest looking creature, giving her a careful smile. "Hi, could you tell me where I am?" You asked. She looked you up and down before giving you a shrug. 

"Hell."

At first you thought it was a joke. But as she walked away and you looked around some more, you realized there wasn't really another explanation that made sense. The creatures around you were so...Casually horrible? You had to dodge bullets left and right as you walked down the street, and at one point you even ran into a couple of them down on their knees as they literally ate a person.

Shying away from the horrid sight, you continued walking around aimlessly. You supposed you'd died, though you weren't sure how. One moment you'd been asleep in your bed, and now you found yourself facing eternal damnation, for whatever reason. You didn't even know what you'd done to deserve it. 

As you passed by a clothing store, you paused at the sight of your reflection in the glass window beside you. You almost didn't recognize the version of you staring back. Your eyes were completely black and when you smiled, you had teeth so sharp they probably could have cut through bone if needed. 

At some point, the shock you felt turned into muted concern as you continued walking. What else were you supposed to do? You didn't know if there were any rules or paperwork new arrivals in hell had to complete, but considering it was hell, you assumed not. 

You weren't sure where you were going or what your plan was, but you couldn't stand to remain still. Walking had always cleared your mind before, and you used to take walks with your grandmother all the time before she died. Granted, going out with her was always a hassle due to her rude manners and loud opinions, but you still appreciated the companionship. 

Thinking of your grandmother made your smile drop a bit. After her death, you hadn't had a lot of people in your life that had cared about you; not that she showed her love in very conventional ways, as it was. You hoped she'd ended up in a better place than you did, but something at the back of your mind told you she probably hadn't. 

Eventually, you wandered into a cute little area of the city that you didn't know the name of. It was significantly cleaner than the rest of hell, which you could appreciate. And as you walked around, you realized many of the residents seemed to closely resemble you with their black eyes and sharp smiles. 

...What a coincidence. 

You turned your gaze towards what seemed to be the center of the little town now, where a small crowd had gathered, many of them shouting or calling out to someone in the middle. Curious, you approached the group.

"Rosie said we're not supposed to eat the new residents!" Someone called in a worried tone. In the middle of the group, a woman with what looked like a dead wolf resting around her shoulders scowled in their direction. 

"I'll eat whoever the fuck I want!" She replied, crossing her arms and then turning to the...demon, you supposed? That was cowering on the ground. "And it ain't like any of you are gonna stop me, are ya?" No one spoke so the old woman nodded before turning back to the smaller demon and barring her teeth. "That's what I fucking thought." 

You were struck with a sense of familiarity as you gazed at the old woman. It was almost like the two of you had met before; her voice sounded like you should have recognized it. But you'd never been in hell before today, so unless you'd become acquainted with her during life...

Oh no, you thought to yourself, taking a step forward and clearing your throat. 

"...Grandmother?" You asked carefully, making everyone in the area freeze. The old woman, who was inches away from biting into the arm of the small sinner beneath her, turned with a frown. 

"Huh?" She asked, looking around the crowd that still surrounded her, "Who said that?" Her tone was accusatory, and within seconds, the group near you had parted, leaving you exposed to her harsh gaze. You glanced at them sheepishly, feeling as if you'd just been thrown under a bus.

Once her gaze landed on you, she called her name as if she hadn't said the word in years. And, considering she'd been dead for that long, you supposed she probably hadn't. "That you, kid?" She asked, squinting her eyes as if she couldn't see you, even though she was wearing her glasses. 

"Yeah, it's me." You replied sheepishly. "Good to see you, Grandma Susan." In the blink of an eye, the old woman had abandoned the demon she'd been trying to make into her lunch and was standing in front of you, inspecting you and your clothes as if she were the judge of an important contest. You stiffened as she walked a full circle around you, humming as she took in the outfit you'd appeared in hell wearing. It wasn't too different from what you might have worn in life, and she seemed to approve because she stopped in front of you with a curt nod. 

"It is you." She decided at last, "You're taller than I remember, though; look how much you've grown." You chuckled before she turned to the rest of the crowd; all of whom were still standing around watching the two of you. 

Looking back, you noticed a tall woman whose features looked almost like a skeleton coming your way, accompanied by another, similar looking demon. "Not again," she was saying quietly to the demon beside her. She wore a big red hat decorated with black feathers and a worried expression on her face, meaning she probably held some sort of responsibility among the crowd of people around you. Meanwhile, Susan spoke, diverting your attention back to her.

"Listen up, all of you!" She shouted to the rest of the demons, "This here is my grandkid, alright?" You almost wanted to cover your ears from her volume. "So I better not catch any of ya tryin' to bite into them or I'll make you my next meal, got it?!" You weren't sure whether to be touched or afraid by her words, but it was now that the woman in the red hat reached the two of you. 

"Grandchild?" She repeated in surprise as she walked up next to you. Meeting her eyes, you gave her a sheepish smile. "You're Susan's grandchild?" 

"Y-yeah..." You admitted as the old woman continued going around the circle of demons and tossing out threats like they were candy. None of them seemed particularly afraid, though; only respectfully nodding at her words. "Sorry..." It was a habit you'd picked up in life whenever you brought your grandmother in public, and you supposed you'd be apologizing on her behalf a lot more in the future.

The woman in the red hat only smiled, though, as recognition finally appeared in her eyes. "Ohhh, don't apologize, dear!" She exclaimed, waving a hand dismissively, "We're used to your grandmother around here, and between you and me, a lot of the cannibals really respect her." You stiffened at the word. Had Susan been a cannibal your whole life, and you hadn't known? "In fact, it'll be nice to have someone else around that can handle her," the woman went on and you swallowed, realizing what you'd just gotten yourself into.

She later introduced herself as Rosie, the overlord of Cannibal Town, which you realized was the name of this area of hell. 

Rosie explained that your grandmother was one of her...Most active citizens. Once you got over the whole everyone-being-cannibals thing, you realized they were actually very pleasant; a stark contrast to the demeanor put on by your grandma herself. Rosie invited you to stay in her territory almost immediately, eager to have another person around that could be responsible for handling Susan, and since you literally had no other option, you agreed.

Rosie offered you a place to stay not far from your grandmother's home, but Susan wouldn't have it. She insisted that you live with her since your parents had 'kept you away from her' by living so far (a three minute walk) away in life. 

Despite insisting that you live in her home, though, Susan routinely complained about your lack of assistance with the household chores. From cooking to cleaning to laundry, it seemed you didn't do nearly enough to take the burden off her shoulders; never mind that she'd verbally-and-adamantly forbidden you from helping with any of those tasks since day one. 

She tried to turn you over to cannibalism, too, complaining about how annoying it was to prepare two separate meals all the time to suit your needs. Though, with how much she enjoyed cooking, and the fact that she always talked about non-cannibal dishes she could potentially make you, you were getting mixed signals. 

It quickly became apparent that there were only two people Susan ever gave the time of day; Rosie and you. So whenever Rosie was busy- which was often, considering she ran all of Cannibal Town- you were in charge of making sure your grandmother didn't terrorize too many people. And thus, you came to be considered a sort of 'Susan Whisperer.'

It was a full-time job, and you often found yourself profusely apologizing to everyone for her rudeness as you walked arm-in-arm with her down the street. The other cannibals never seemed to mind, but that didn't mean you wouldn't at least try to get her to be kinder. 

When Alastor first started coming around Cannibal Town, Susan only got worse. She would often change the route of your daily walks specifically so she could go past him and make a rude comment that often had the Radio Demon ready to murder her on the spot. 

"I'm so sorry," you would always tell him, "Grandma and I are working on that." Then you'd turn to Susan and pull her along, getting her out of the situation before she could make him want to kill her even more. 

But despite her abrasive nature, your grandmother truly did care for you. She was always cooking food she knew you would enjoy and bringing it to you at random times of the day; whether you were dead asleep, walking beside her, or chatting with Rosie over tea. She had her own ways of showing affection, and that was one of them.

She was also surprisingly protective. One time, a cannibal sinner that had died around the same time as you had invited you to lunch in your grandmother's presence and she'd turned around and bit his hand off before shouting that you 'already had plans with your family then.' He never went near you after that, and in fact, most of the cannibals were much more careful in your presence from that day on. 

You knew from the moment Charlie arrived in town with Alastor that things were going to go south very fast. And when Susan wouldn't even let the princess of hell get a word in before she started heckling, you wanted to melt into the floor out of embarrassment.

"Grandma, maybe we should listen to what she has to say," You whispered, only to be ignored by the old woman, who continued talking over Charlie. Thus began a three-way conversation that really just consisted of Charlie trying to pitch her hotel, Susan doing anything but listening to her, and you trying to get your grandmother to stop being so rude to such an important figure in hell. 

So when Charlie finally had her outburst, you really couldn't blame her, bringing a hand up to rub your temples as you wondered what you'd done to deserve this. 

In the end though, you were what ended up getting Susan onboard with Charlie's plan. Not because you convinced her; you didn't think the old woman was capable of having her opinion changed by anyone, no matter who they were. But the angels' exterminations didn't leave Cannibal Town any more untouched than the rest of hell; meaning they put you in danger too. 

And as prickly as Susan was, she'd tear apart the flesh of anyone that dared to hurt her grandchild, so of course she took the chance to eat a few angels, especially if it meant protecting you.

#hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel fanfiction #hazbin hotel susan #hazbin susan #susan hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel x you #susan & reader #grandma susan #hazbin hotel grandma susan #platonic susan x reader #platonic hazbin hotel #platonic relationships #platonic x reader

[hard-core-super-star]

May I please request something for Kate Bishop x reader? Even a part two for your latest Kate fic almost.

Reader hangs up her suit and stops being SpiderWoman after losing May, and both Kate and Yelena can see her starting to spirl. (Maybe Yelena helps her with the anger and grief of losing May.)

i'm all skeleton and melody [K.Bishop]

pairing: kate bishop x parker!reader; (platonic) yelena belova x parker! reader

summary: kate calls for backup when she realizes how underprepared she is to help you deal with your grief over losing may.

warnings: mentions of character death [mainly may but there's a quick natasha mention, i'm sorry]; heavy mentions of grief + references to depression; smaller serving of angst with a huge side of hurt/comfort and yelena being supportive in her own way; kate being a golden retriever gf who doesn't know how to stay

wordcount: 1.6k

a/n: can i just say good grief is one of my favorite fics i've written so a request for a part two was a wonderful surprise? i've gotten attached to a lot of my mini-universes but this one is special to me. yelena has a bigger role in this part because i said so :) also, the gif above was my inspiration for one of the scenes and i think it shows lmao. anywho, hope you enjoy <3

* * * * * * *

People always talk about the five stages of grief but what they fail to mention is that grief is a never-ending cycle.

Sometimes you can reach anger and go right back to denial. Or reach acceptance and fall into depression again. Reaching the end just means you’re ready to fall back to the beginning and start fresh once more.

People make it out to be a process, and in many ways, it is, but it’s not an easy one to deal with. Even when you have loving and supportive people by your side.

Sometimes, having those people around can actually make it worse.

Which is how you wound up where you are right now, locked up in your and Kate’s shared bedroom, refusing to get out of bed or even open the door to your kind-eyed girlfriend.

Your guilt about shutting the archer out, literally and emotionally, is overshadowed by the pain that grips your chest every time you breathe. Pain that nothing can take away, not even Kate Bishop.

The truth is, you started slipping the second May died. You tried to hide it, and you honestly succeeded, until it became painfully obvious that you were ignoring the Spidey suit hanging in the back of your closet.

Any time Kate or Yelena asked, you mumbled something about how you were taking a break. It was more than understandable…until said “break” turned into you not eating, not sleeping, and shutting both of them out of your mind and heart.

Yelena handled it the way she handles most things, by silently watching until she found all the signs that told her you really weren’t doing well. Kate, on the other hand, did not handle it as well or as casually as her blonde best friend.

It would have been annoying if you didn’t love her as much as you do. She meant well, there will never be a doubt in your mind about your girlfriend and her clumsy yet good intentions. Her sad looks were more than you could handle, though, and her whispers of encouragement only served to remind you of what you lost.

So, when it became painfully obvious she couldn't help you on her own, she did the only thing she could think of. She called Yelena and begged her to talk you down from the metaphorical ledge you’re on. The one that told you you didn’t deserve to be Spiderwoman anymore, not when you were responsible for the death of the only family you had left.

“y/n!” Your self-deprecating spiral comes to a stop the second you hear Kate’s voice again. “I know you can hear me. Please, babe, just let me in.”

You can hear the tears that cling to her eyes even through the door that separates you. It should be a reminder of how much your girlfriend loves you but in reality, it only furthers the disdain you hold for yourself right now.

The warmth of the blanket you’re hiding under is no replacement for Kate’s strong embrace but you can’t find the strength to get out of bed. It’s not like you’re happy about it but you can’t do much to lift the heavy weight of grief that holds you down.

At least not on your own.

You can barely make out the sound of the archer’s voice but you don’t understand the word she says. Much less who she’s saying them to.

“I just want to help,” she says for the fifth time, earning herself yet another one of Yelena’s eye rolls.

“Yes, I know, you have said that a million times already.”

“I just don’t understand why I can’t go in there with you. She’s my girlfriend.”

“y/n isn’t in a good mental place, Kate Bishop. You will only get hurt.”

“Isn’t that exactly why I should be there? I’m supposed to be the one taking care of her when she’s not doing okay.”

“Put the puppy eyes away, you’re staying outside.”

“Fine…But-”

“No.”

The hushed sound of voices turns into the tell-tale sound of the doorknob being messed with. You assume Kate is attempting to pick the lock again so you merely sigh and turn onto your back, staring at the ceiling and trying to erase May’s face from your mind.

You feel a familiar exhaustion starting to creep in when the bedroom door slams open.

“I thought you said you were going to pick the lock!”

“Do not be a baby about it, Kate Bishop, you’re rich.”

“It was a nice door.”

The ghost of a smile appears on your face at Kate’s complaint but the reaction is more subconscious than anything. It’s almost like your body reacts instantly to your girlfriend even while your mind is struggling to stay afloat.

“Stay.” You miss the glare Yelena throws Kate’s way but the sound of footsteps approaching manages to register in your mind.

Your first instinct is to hide despite how ridiculous of an idea it is. You reach for your blanket and throw it over your face to cover your tired eyes and tear-stained cheeks.

Yelena sighs but makes no attempt to force you to face her. She may act like a jerk sometimes but she cares a lot about you and Kate…mainly you but the archer doesn’t need to know that her playful insults aren’t always completely playful.

“y/n,” the blonde says softly as she sits down next to you. “I do not want to be the one to tell you this but your girlfriend is losing her marbles over you.”

“Yelena!”

The Russian mumbles some curse words you don’t fully understand before continuing. “How do you live with her? She is more annoying than her dog.”

“Don’t bring Lucky into this,” you murmur, deciding only to speak up to protect the loyal dog’s honor.

“I would say I’m sorry but I am not. It’s nice to see you’re still alive.”

You don’t remove your (literal) safety blanket but you feel Yelena’s hand find your own over the fabric. A moment passes before you stick your hand out and allow the blonde to intertwine her fingers with yours.

It’s a wordless action and yet it brings tears to your eyes. You’re not sure how or why but you don’t dare fight against the emotions that gather in your grief-stricken body. “I wish I wasn’t.”

“You don’t mean that,” she replies, no traces of her usual sarcasm in her tone. “You’re just upset.”

The word doesn’t even begin to cover how you feel. It’s like your mind is painfully aware of how alive you are while your body is more than happy decomposing within the four walls of your bedroom.

“Try devastated.”

Yelena either doesn’t understand what you mean or she happily accepts the replacement. “Okay, you’re just devastated. Staying inside isn’t going to bring her back, you know?”

“You’re one to talk,” you mutter despite how harsh your words truly are.

Fortunately, the Russian might be the only person you know who is able to take that harshness in stride. “You’re right, I did awful things when I learned what happened to Natasha. But I didn’t do it for her. I did it for myself. Because I thought it was the only way to cope.”

You take the words for what they are, a reminder that you’re not alone. That you’re not the only person to almost succumb to the powerful anger hidden within the sadness and regret. What happened to May is miles away from what happened to Natasha, though, and somehow the comparison only makes things worse.

“It’s my fault she’s dead.” All the tears you had been holding back finally fall, forcing you to accept the reality you’ve been trying to escape from all these days. “I got my mom killed.”

“Don’t say that. You don’t know that-”

“Of course, I know that.” You use your free hand to pull the blanket down and finally face Yelena’s affectionate gaze. “Who else is to blame if it’s not me?”

“Try the homicidal maniac with a glider.”

Yelena groans and the familiarity of the scene helps to ease some of your pain. “What happened to staying outside, Kate Bishop?”

“y/n needs me.”

The words are simple in nature and they’re nothing you haven’t heard before but the reaction they bring out of you isn’t one you’re used to.

Thankfully, Kate crosses the space between you without you having to say anything.

Yelena tries to move away but you tighten your grip on her hand before she can get too far. She rolls her eyes at you but accepts the silent request, choosing to remain seated by your side while Kate literally climbs on top of you.

“You guys are strange.”

You’re too focused on the relief of having your girlfriend’s body back on top of you to argue back.

The archer lazily wraps an arm around your middle while her head rests on top of your shoulder so she’s able to glare at her best friend. They only last a few seconds before they start arguing about something so you close your eyes and let the sound of their voices drown out the memories that threaten to come back.

“Hey.” Kate’s voice is a mere whisper against your tear-stained cheeks. “I love you.”

You don’t have to open your eyes to be able to see the sincerity she exudues with every breath she takes and every look she gives you.

“I love you too.”

It’s not nearly enough to get rid of all your pain but it’s enough to remind you what you’re fighting for every day. You’re fighting for the ones you love. Even the ones you’ve lost.

And maybe fighting won't bring them back but you don't need to. Being with the ones you have left is more than enough for you.

#kate bishop x reader #kate bishop x parker reader #kate bishop x female reader #kate bishop x y/n #kate bishop x you #kate bishop fic #kate bishop fanfiction #yelena belova #kate bishop #hawkeye #spiderman #black widow #hawkeye fanfic #hailee steinfeld #marvel fanfiction #marvel fic #marvel #mcu #mcu imagine #mcu fanfiction #wlw #wlw fic #writing

[desire-mona]

dps boys (and keating's) favourite songs (aka me projecting because i love music) (also modern au because you cannot limit me to music before 1960 you just cant)

i made a playlist of all these songs in case you wanna give em a listen, you can find it here. if you totally disagree with me or wanna add more then absolutely let me know!

neil: talia - ride the cyclone (the musical)

yes i KNOW it's obvious to choose a song from a musical BUT. ride the cyclone is special, i think he'd really like the lack of an ensemble and enjoy the dark premise despite the comedic nature of a vast majority of the show. also i totally think his favourite performance would be by gus halper bc of the use of the projector. mischa or noel is definitely a dream role of his.

todd: vincent - james blake ('s cover, og by don mclean)

don mcleans lyricism is like catnip to poets and it has gone unacknowledged for far too long. a lyrically gorgeous, vaguely queer sounding song about a tortured artist, covered by someone with an ANGELIC voice. can you name anything more todd? not to mention the piano is so far beyond moving, nothing short of a masterpiece.

charlie: dear prudence - siouxsie and the banshees (again - a cover, og by the beatles)

firm believer that charlie was an avid beatles hater for a WHILE until eleanor rigby grew on him, much to his dismay. is now a casual beatles enjoyer, only due to the fact that their vocals annoy him. so a cover by siouxsie sioux (whom he most definitely has a crush on) is basically a blessing in disguise. loves the instrumentals, loves the vocals, loves all of it. insists that its better than the original and will ultimately die (correct) on that hill.

meeks: love on the line (call now) - her's

as much as i love and adore meeks, i have been loyal to my headcanon that he is an annoying music snob since day one. of course, this culminates in his favourite song being by THE indie pop/rock band that pretentious people love to bring up the death of. he is no exception, any time the band is mentioned he will without fail go "did you know that they died in a car crash?" either way, id be lying if i said this was a bad pick. the upbeat vibe mixed with the actual meaning of the song being about a guy wasting all his money on a sex hotline? it makes the whole song so fun, and thats right up his alley! super danceable too, which plays a huge part.

pitts: bad fruit - jean dawson

will mona ever shut up about jean dawson? signs point to no. anywho, if you've followed along with my pittsie musings then you KNOW that i consider pitts to be the most well versed music guy to ever step on welton academy campus. realistically, im sure his favourite song changes on a day to day basis, but he always comes back to this. jean dawson makes art that ive seen few do similarly, everything he brings to the table i find so incredibly unique and well crafted. definitely pitts' biggest music crush.

cameron: '39 - queen

absolutely, 100%, without a doubt, an extremely guilty pleasure. i take his parents as the type to ban queen in their household (for reasons that im sure youre able to pick up on) but i ALSO take cameron as a sucker for classic rock, match made in hell. of course, since brian may does the vocals on this song instead of freddie, he can listen on the dl and be fine. also, the concept of time travel in music is SO!!! INTERESTING!! would absolutely go on a 10 minute long tangent about the story and meaning of the song, which only mittsie would actually listen to.

knox: lavender buds - MF DOOM

fine, FINE. i'll give knox a proper headcanon, but i wont be happy about it. i think i would listen to MF DOOM a lot more if i was a former bully, but thats not actually based off anything so dont take that as an insult, avid listeners. honestly i dont really have an in depth explanation for this one, just look at the lyrics and youll understand.

(this repeats 3 times)

i also take him to be a big r&b/ blues enjoyer, also based off nothing at all, so the sample probably appeals to some sense of nostalgia.

keating: clair de lune - claude debussy

yes, even modern keating's fav song would be classical, you can rip that from my cold, dead hands. this song was based off the poem by the same title by paul verlaine, which i'll include because it is just so damn beautiful.

Your soul is a select landscape

Where charming masqueraders and bergamaskers go

Playing the lute and dancing and almost

Sad beneath their fantastic disguises.

All sing in a minor key

Of victorious love and the opportune life,

They do not seem to believe in their happiness

And their song mingles with the moonlight,

With the still moonlight, sad and beautiful,

That sets the birds dreaming in the trees

And the fountains sobbing in ecstasy,

The tall slender fountains among marble statues.

Paul Verlaine, 1869 (originally written in french, so this is a rough english translation)

now the song itself does SUCH a good job at capturing the beauty and moving parts of this poem, and it fits perfectly with a plethora of different emotions. i know without a shadow of a doubt that its his kryptonite. is that me projecting because i love this song and i love keating? absolutely, but i still think its true either way.

#desire mona #media #please please please listen to the playlist all these songs are wonderful i promise #dead poets society #neil perry #todd anderson #charlie dalton #steven meeks #gerard pitts #richard cameron #knox overstreet #john keating #mona talks music #banger

[inbarfink]

Random question but I just realized/remembered that Calvin and Sam were YOUNGER than Barbara.

Yet I don't remember them being babysat by her the night she died so where do you think they were?

Also I was wondering if I'm the only one who thinks Rick might not have killed Barbara?

Cause it COULD be possible that the serial killer/deranged fan part of the comic could have been real. Meaning that that could be why Rick disappeared.

Anywho sorry for the out of the blue question/rant. I just didn't know who else to ask.

(Sorry for the late reply @hannahhook7744, it's been kind of a Weird Hectic Weekend for me)

The thing about Barbara's Death Sequence is that it's really the most 'distant' one we've had. Most other Finches have records written by themselves just before their deaths or written by someone close to them just after their deaths. Barbara got a fictionlized comic book written by strangers for strangers that came out a full year after her death.

Sure, it seems like the Finch family collaborated on the story (since they've got the music box in there), but it's still pretty different from Molly's diary or Lewis' therapy notes. Espacially as a lot of little details in Barbara's room seem to contradict the story. So it's probable that Sam and Calvin were also being babysat by Barbara that night, but as they didn't figure into the narrative the comic-writers were telling they just casually dropped them from the narrative or merged all three younger brothers into Walter's role.

Or maybe they were out having a sleepover with friends or a boyscout camping trip or something but the comic didn't mention it, cause, again, it didn't factor into it's story. This comic was obviously not a serious documentation of Barbara's death, it's a fictional horror story targeted at people with just a casual understanding of the Finch Family outside of Barbara - if at that. So if that comic dedicated a whole narration box to "and also Barbara had two other little brothers but they were off at camp and had nothhing to do with this story" that would just seem Weird to the in-universe readers of 'Dreadful Stories'. Even if it might be useful to us, the REAL audience trying to piece together the timeline of the Finch family.

(Also I do suspect that at some point of WRoEF development Calvin was supposed to die before Barbara and then their timelines ended up being Switched so the Weirdness here might be a remnant of that)

As for the matter of Rick. I think the reason why he's considered the Prime Suspect of Barbara's death within the fandom is due to the Law of Conservation of Detail. You know, like, Details in stories come up because they're important to the story in same way. And yeah, 'What Remains of Edith Finch' is not exactly a traditional narrative and not every detail here has to "further the plot" - but even the most unimportant little details in WroEF still serve to add flavor to the characters, atmosphere and the themes. Which are things that are important to the story.

So why bring up the fact that Barbara had a boyfriend and even give him a name and a face? (which is very rare for anyone outside of the Finch Family in this game) Why doesn't Barbara just die alone in the house with just Walter? Rick has to be Important in some way if the game went to all this effort to create and establish his existence to us, right?

Plus, there's the thematic role of 'Dreadful Stories' within the narrative. Personally, I can't see the idea of there really being a serial killer or a real-life crazed fan that inspired the 'monsters' at the end of the comic. Because my read of 'Dreadful Stories' is that it's made to be so ridiculous and sensational- with both a serial killer AND monsters out to get Barbara - to showcase a little taste of the wild and weird stories being told about Barbara's death. And to put the first subtle little wrinkle in the poetic idea that the Finches deaths always match their lives - Edie had to choose this silly little comic to deliberatly turn Barbara's death into something horror themed. And if she chose something a little closer to reality, it would've turned out to be much different.

So what is the mundane Not-Thematic-Enough-For-Edie's-Tastes way for Barbara to get murdered? I can see why for a lot of people, the 'obvious answer' was 'got killed in an argument with her boyfriend'. Since, again, we need to have a reason why he exists in the first place.

...Although that's actually not my favorite theory lol

I think Barbara's death was even more mundane than that. One of the few details about Barbara's death we can confirm are based on reality is the moment where she pushes the killer off the railing.

In the current-day Finch House this little piece of railing IS noticeably broken.

So someone did absolutely fall off the second floor of the Finch House at some point.

So what I think happened is that Rick and Barbara did have some sort of a lover's tiff that night, then Barbara slipped on these rollerskates the Hookman slipped on in the comic.

In a panic she tried to grab on to something and only managed to catch one of Rick's crutches. (The important thing here is that Barbara is ALWAYS memorialized holding that crutch. Even in pieces that were made prior to the comic's printing, like her portrait)

So that part of her story has to be true in some way.

Barbara's death was just yet another Patented Tragic Finch Accident, but suspicions kept falling on Rick from the General Public and the media, and so he had to go into hiding. Meanwhile the Finch Family, or at least Edie, kept promoting the most Bonkers version of her story they could find.

#hannahhook7744 #what remains of edith finch #edith finch #barbara finch #wroef

[kamikkyu]

i already made a little post abt this au idea BUT im gonna expand on it anyway

❗❗TW for mentions of death cause. theres ghosts

tsukasa, emu and nene (emu still sneaks into their school) are students who claim to "specialize in dealing with ghosts" (nene was unwillingly brought into this) even though they...... dont. well actually emu can see them but tsukasa thinks this is pretend and is just going along with it cause it makes others around him smile

and nene thinks this entire thing is bullshit

anywho a few students from another school go up to them and say like "weird stuff is happening in our school" (none of the staff believed them) and nene and tsukasa are like "oh shit we do NOT specialize in dealing with supernatural activity" but emu is like "oh yeah definitely we can help!!"

and here they are, in a school thats not even theirs past opening hours, looking for 'ghosts'.

expanding on emus ability to see ghosts she didnt think her grandfather was dead cause she could still see him and it got really confusing whenever they mentioned him being dead when she could see him RIGHT NEXT TO HER

oh and no one believes her when she says stuff like that

she fought back at the doctors when her family brought her

oh right rui

ruis a ghost of a student that died at the school about a year ago

he doesnt remember dying

he also doesnt remember his name

...he doesnt remember a lot of things

so rui thinks people are ignoring him

and emu eventually spots him while theyre exploring the school and he looks all sad and miserable and alone so naturally she goes to comfort him

and tsukasa and nene are like "...what is she doing."

SO after a long explanation and convincing nene and tsukasa that there is infact a ghost here (and after telling rui that hes a ghost which he... took surprisingly casually) tsukasas like "OKAY! PROBLEM SOLVED! tell it to stop bugging people and go away so we can get out of here" which just makes rui sadder

but ruis lonely and emus the first person to actually see and talk to him

and he literally doesnt remember anything

so he asks emu to help him figure out who he is (also in an attempt to keep her around longer)

(sorry nene and tsukasa, youre staying here a little longer too)

and now theyre on a mission to find the identity of this ghost

oh rui also doesnt remember why he died so hes also curious about that too

maybe ill talk about this au some more some time but ill leave it at that hehehe

ill probably make some art too

#ghost rui au #project sekai au #tenma tsukasa #tsukasa tenma #otori emu #emu otori #kusanagi nene #nene kusanagi #kamishiro rui #rui kamishiro #wonderlands x showtime #wxs #proseka #project sekai #pjsekai #pjsk #hatsune miku: colorful stage #doodle

[risetherivermoon]

The organised crime au sounds interesting???

howdy! this one was an au i had the idea for a while actually, but this just means i have a lot of notes already lol,

this one is focused on Wolfstar & Jegulus but there are other couples involved,

anywho, here you go;

in this au, Sirius is a part of law enforcement, and a detective working on a crime unit specifically about the different gangs/groups around their big city, those specifically being the Wolves, the Vipers, and the Deatheaters,

He meets Remus at a cafe (the one where James works at) pretty casually and they start going out more on dates and stuff, their relationship goes farther and everything is going well on that end,

then, Sirius is going to visit James at the cafe he works at and sees him talking to Regulus, his estranged little brother from years ago, Sirius is shocked and goes up to talk to them, and this starts them off to a rocky recovery of their relationship etc etc,

But, what Sirius doesn't know, is that Regulus is the leader of the crime group The Vipers, and he was talking to James because he was newly recruited as his right-hand after James ran from the Deatheaters, which James was in since he was like, 12-years-old,

and what Sirius also doesn't know, is that Remus is the heir to the leader of the Wolves, and after Greyback (who is also Lyall in this au) dies, Remus takes his place,

basically the whole au idea is Sirius chasing criminals who are just standing right in front of him the entire time,

other small details that ive included:

Marlene works for Remus, and Dorcas works for Regulus, they are a crime couple as the Vipers and Wolves form an alliance after Remus takes charge

Lily and Sirius are partners (in the detective sense)

Rosekiller both work for Regulus, imagine them as like his henchmen in a sense, theyre also just chaotic murderous boys,

Remus uses a cane, and he has one of those like really dramatic villain ones lol (he thinks it makes him more intimidating)

James was basically accidentally killed a guy at 12, and Voldy was like: GASP LETS TAKE HIM and thats how that happened, poor james

Peter works for the police with Sirius too but he's also a part of the Deatheaters, he's a spy for them, but eventually he ends up leaving them for the Vipers as well,

Remus actually kills his dad, his dad isn't that great of guy, and the Wolves barely have any alliances or anything good going for them until Remus takes charge, hes just better than him

However Remus does refuse to make an alliance with the Deatheaters as their ways are things he disapproves of entirely (they are wildly more violent and unorganized and Remus is basically like: 'itd hurt my pride honestly')

same with Regulus (definitely not because of a certain boy who was manipulated by their leader that Reg may have a little bit of a thing for, definitely not)

but yes, this is the idea mostly! i wrote out like maybe a bit over 400 words for this but never returned to it but i still like the idea/concept,

poor Sirius, he really is getting bamboozled,

anyways, thx so much for the ask and thank you for allowing me to spill a can of worms on your head! have a good day!

(original post/list: socks fic ideas)

#i said theyd get more creative and i wasnt lying #marauders #marauders era #harry potter #hp #dead gay wizards #james potter #regulus black #sirius black #remus lupin #wolfstar #remus x sirius #sirius x remus #james x regulus #regulus x james #jegulus #rosekiller #dorlene #lily evans #peter pettigrew #dorcas meadowes #marlene mckinnon #evan rosier #barty crouch jr #my writing #me rambling like hell

[afuaama]

I have a wonderful habit of sending my friends recordings of me telling folktales. At the end I like to ask them, " WHAT DID YOU HEAR WHEN YOU HEARD THE STORY? or, " " DOES THIS REMIND YOU OF...." anywhos. This is my typed version the hungrian-roma ("gypsy") folktale "the magic bag." * * * * * * * * *

mini magic mojo bags.

* * * * * * * * *

Once upon a time there was a gypsy woman Roma woman who had a l ot of mouths to feed and not a lot of means to make it happen. Her unemployed husband's mouth was the biggest and loudest of the lot. "I've had it up to here with this BS life!" Maartiska (that was the Roma woman's name) shouted into the void while washing laundry. (The kids were at school.) " Our lives are miserable because of GOD. God is going to take responsibility! God is going to fix our lives! ARGH!~ - STOMP STOMP STOMP - Out the little yard. Laundry unhung. // On the way to god's house, Maartiska hears, "Young lady I know where you're going....Rather there, why not sit here? The old voice of an old lady sitting under an old tree. "I'm busy!" Maartiska shouted back. "Busy? " The old lady puffed a pipe smoke. "Folks are always too busy these days." "You ain't lied about that." Hmm - Maartiska changed her mind. She had a sit under the tree. "I work two jobs" - blah blah blah - "kids need a new pair of shoes and the light bill is due" - blah blah blah - " god said " - blah blah blah - blah blah blah- "I demand god fix my life!

Maartiska didn't wait to asked "what's the matter" before telling it. The old lady -puff puff puff - on her smoke. Reached into her dress pocket. "Take this bag. And go home. It was a small burlap bag. "Say these magic words: mojo mojo, show me what you got some like it cold I want it hot Maartiska squinted at the bag, back to the old lady, back to the bag, back to the old lady. "You aren't trying to trick me? "You never know. Not that I would. The bag was placed in Maartiska hands. // Still, Maartiska was steady on going to god's house. - bang bang bang - Maartiska slammed her fist on the thick door. "God! Open up! .... ! "Maartiska! All this ruckus!" God managed to open the door in between Maartiska's tirade. Felt kinda bad for her. "Here, take this. (It was a velvet bag.) "Go home. Say these magic words: thank you for all you have done for me She thanked god and returned home satisfied. // That night, in the dark quiet kitchen, Maartiska pulled out the velvet bag. "thank you for all you have done for me she recited. . . . . . . - wham! bam! whack! crack! - Whips, chains, belts, switches, wire coat hangers, electrical cords! sprang out and on command whooped up on Maartiska. "Back! Back I say! Holding up an hand to fend off the weapons, she snatched a cast iron skillet with her free one. Eventually she whacked them back from where they came. Then, she remembered the other bag.... "May as well.... Maartiska pulled out the other bag - the burlap bag - from her pocket. Gulped. "mojo mojo, show me what you got some like it cold I want it hot she recited. - bomp bomp bomp bomp~ - Cakes, candies, collard greens, beans, taters, breads, pies, roasted vegetables, and cool drinks paraded out the bag. Every empty cupboard, counter, and cranny filled with delicacies and deliciousenss. Maartiska eyes watered, this time from happiness. // The next morning she and her kids were up early feasting and having some fun. Awoken by the chatter - Maartiska husband sauntered in the kitchen. Before him was a sight previously unseen - a full table. He was confused. He was suspicious. "Where did come from? We don't have the means for all this. How? ... He slanted his eyes at Maartiska. >:/ ( -___-) "How? >:/

The wife in question had been eating piece of huckleberry toast. Casually, Maartiska licked some tidbits off her fingers. It had been an easygoing morning for a change. "HOW. How DID I get all this? I got help. "Help from who? "A friend. He crossed his arms over his chest. Unamused. "Who?

Maartiska grinned. "Don't be like that - I bet you can go get some help, too. All you have to do is go..... ask...... * * * * * * * * *

Who? I'll leave that up to you. Who does Maartiska send her husband to? * * * * * * * * *

toodle lou~~!

#folktale #writing #folk magic #roma #gypsy #short story #mojo bag #magic bag #gods #moral story #choices

[kirimikisser]

Hes on a counter why? idk. (i just realized i forgot the pockets on his pants-)

#Oc #Digital srt #idk what the hell im doing rn #Hes on a counter ig? #what am i doing with my life #anywho!! *dies casually*

[anthonysstupiddailyblog]

Anthony's Stupid Daily Blog (747): Wed 3rd Apr 2024

I rewatched one of my favourite movies of all time: Vanishing Point. To casual moviegoers the plot of the movie sounds dull, a car delivery man speeds his way from Colorado to California while the police give chase. However the joy of the movie is getting to spend time with the driver Kowalski and trying to understand his motives. You really don't get character study movies like this one any more. Movies where you spend a few hours in a character's company and make up your mind about what kind of person he is. Throughout the movie we see various flashbacks to incidents in Kowalski's life namely him crashing his car during a professional race and the time he was a cop and he saved a girl from being raped by one of his coworkers which led to him being fired. My own personal interpretation of the film is that these are not flashbacks, they are fantasies. I think something happens just before the events of the movie which makes Kowalski think he has wasted his life and that before he dies he wants to have at least one big adventure. That's why he makes a bet with his friend that he can get the car to California in four days even though it doesn't need to be there for a week. Throughout the journey the things he sees prompt fantasies in his head as he imagines how his life could have been. This is also a beautifully choreographed film with extreme stunts being performed with no reliance on CGI. There's one stunt where we get a shot of Kowalski driving his car along the bottom of an embankment shot from the perspective of the police car at the top. Kowalski then drives up the embankment across the police cars path and runs him off the road. My one gripe about the film is the music. The framing device of the movie is that there is a DJ named Super Soul who hears about Kowalski's police chase and sympathises with him. Throughout the movie we hear the songs Soul plays on Kowalski's radio. The trouble is since this film was made in the early seventies the songs are mostly soul a genre I'm not a fan of. If this had been made 10 - 15 years later it would have had a heavy metal soundtrack and this would probably bump Vanishing Point up to being my all time favourite movie (Even though it's currently still in my top ten). Later on I tuned into tonight's Hollyoaks which featured more bollocks from Mercedes and Warren. At the start of the episode we saw Mercedes texting someone known only as F and leaving the audience to speculate on who it might be. I suspected that it could possibly be Flounder from the Little Mermaid but thinking about it now this would've been very unlikely. He wasn’t much help in the film so he’d be even less handy on dry land. Anywho it turned out to be Freddie Roscoe and to be honest I quite out of the loop during the Roscoe family years so I'm not exactly sure why he's been brought in by Mercedes to combat Warren. Does he have some ties to the criminal underworld similar to Warren or does he know MMA or something? I'm so glad Warren is leaving that I actually might just start skipping whenever he's on screen since I don't care what his exit storyline will be. There was a moment where Warren had a heart to heart with Norma where she reminded him that Mercedes is carrying his child….yes he actually needed reminding. Then Warren went round to Mercedes for a heart to heart. Even during his last weeks on the show theyre still trying to get us to sympathise with this character? He went round to Mercedes heart and tried to reconcile and fucking BLAH BLAH BLAH. He smashed up her house & now thinks a simple apology will fix things? He started off as a decent character who was portrayed as a bit dodgy but only hurt those who hurt the ones he loved so occasionally I could sympathise with him. But for the last few years his switches between good & bad have felt so arbitrary that I just don’t care about him any more. Awful character. Terribly written. Just PISS OFF! Can't wait till he's gone

[achintyarai]

Caveat: This one is going to be controversial and possibly not well liked. Which means that it fits right up my alley. 

For the last couple of days I’ve been thinking about the idea of identity- specifically Identity Pride. Before I go any further I want to make the disclaimer that I have not read anything written by the wise or the pompous on the subject of identity and what I write here are my own musings based on research conducted by judging casual acquaintances, watching much TV and spending much time on social media.

Let me begin by posing a question- why is it ok for a Punjabi man to be proud of his Punjabiyat and evoke Punjabiyan di shaan in every Punjabi song of repute, but it is not ok for a Brahmin man to be proud of his Brahminical patrimoiety? Neither of the two men had any say in choosing the pride inducing identity. Then why is one ok and the other not? A simpler to embrace analogy is this- it is ok to be proud of being a black man but it’s not ok to be proud of being a white man. This new analogy is easy to fathom because we see that the condition of being black has disabilities attached to it and therefore it is nice, warm and fuzzy to let the black people at least feel pride in their blackness, because in every aspect that really matters in the real world, their blackness acts as a handicap that holds them back. To summarize, it is politically correct to let the weak and oppressed find surface joy in proclaiming pride while in reality the oppressors care or do little about their oppressed status. This is akin to giving a child a toy steering wheel so that she feels that she’s the one driving the car while everyone else smiles at her and says “how cute”. 

There are indeed psyche related facets that come into play where we want the traditionally oppressed to have their own pride inducing stories that build confidence and that counter the traditional stories that usually strip them of their confidence. 

Anywho, the rule of identity pride appears to be - in the current world view it is ok for the oppressed to invoke pride in their identity and not for the rest of the people.

Although interestingly, the Punjabi paradigm does not fit this rule at all because being a Punjabi is not a disability, nor are the Punjabis singing of Punjabiyan di shaan oppressed by anyone. Perhaps the answer lies at the other end- Brahmin shaan (pride) is frowned upon because Brahmins are seen as oppressors of the other castes. So as a corollary the rule now becomes- in the current world view it is ok for the oppressed to invoke pride in their identity and also for those not perceived as oppressors, but not for the rest of the people.

Or more simply put the rule is:In the current world view it is NOT ok for those seen as oppressors to invoke pride in their identity but it is ok for everyone else.

This makes sense doesn’t it?

You could of course point out exceptions to this rule. But if you did, I would counter by pointing out one key word in the above rule- the key word is “seen”. In the current world view it is not ok for those SEEN as oppressors to invoke pride in their identity but it is ok for everyone else.

Appearing an oppressor (or oppressed) is more important than being one and it seems to have become less about factual realities and more about perception. Like everything else today, this too appears to have boiled down into a popularity contest that categorizes everyone into four broad categories with accompanying advantages and detriments.

1.     The victim- this is the most coveted and fought for position in the hierarchy and everyone aspires and works hard to be one

2.     The victim-ally- this is the proverbial second place and although a loser the victim ally earns some brownie points by ingratiating themselves with the victim. 

3.     The neutral- simple minded, busy-with-their-own-lives people who do not have either the mental capacity or the initiative to become a victim or a victim-ally. Boring

4.     The oppressor- the less said about him the better.

This chaaturvarnya categorization of human beings is the base structure. On top of this are many layers. For example- human beings are complex. We’re not one but many. Each of us carries multiple identities. This multiplicity of identities creates a challenge in categorizing people. The smart ones use this loophole to upgrade their category. For example, a well to do white American male is by default the worst kind of oppressor you can imagine. But if he were to just decide to self-identify as any one of the 72 gender identities other than cis-male, they’d instantly be upgraded from the 4th position to the 1st position. I call this the intersectionality of the victimhood contest.

The intersectionality of the victimhood contest poses complex challenges. For example- I’m a brown man so by default my victimhood quotient is higher than that of a white person’s. Is it ok then for me to tell blond jokes? Does the victimhood that I can claim on account of my brownness measure more than the victimhood that a blond woman can claim on account of her being a woman? Because this is a popularity contest I think the answer lies in surmising which holds more currency on social and other media at the time of the telling of the joke- skin colour or gender?

The interplay of identities in the race to reach the first position is much too complex to tackle for an amateur like me who has only a few dozen friends and followers and must be handled more comprehensively by some 18 year old social media influencer. Thus, coming back to the original question of identity pride, my conclusion is that it is ok for you to invoke identity pride if you are popularly believed to be either a victim, a victim ally or neutral. I would categorize regional identities such as Punjabiyat, Bengaliyat and Gujaratiyat as neutral. So go ahead and make songs about Malayaliyan di shaan. You’ll not be cancelled. Not yet.

In my opinion though it’s illogical to feel proud of things you had no say in choosing- nationality, race, parents, caste or skin colour. In fact, even the things that you feel you had some role in choosing or achieving such as school marks, degree and career are also a function of your nationality, race, parents, caste or skin colour. 

Perhaps pride is just overrated.

5-Aug-2022

Lucknow

[the-asparagus]

Am exploring tumblr. My notes:

So, First of all randomly looking up things. I thought you know what Catch 22. I dammed love catch 22. It;s full of those pointless jokes I can't get enough of!

AND I found magical things such as fan art I just wasn't expecting. Turns out if their is a character 100% has fan art. Like Huple the 15 year old Pilot and his cat who kills Hungry Joe. And everyone loves him because Hungry Joe screamed every-time he wasn't on the flight list...... YEAH fucking anyway anywho anywhen...

I DIScovered the otehr rule of of Tumblr. They will also 100% crush over the worst person.

FUCKING MILO MINDERBINDER... Milo Minderbinder. Where to even start with him... It starts find enough just a casual Catch 22: "Milo could buy eggs in Malta for seven cents apiece and sell them at a profit in Pianosa for five cents." As you do fair enough. Buys all the cotton in the entire world ever and makes people eat it covered in Chocolate. Then starts working with the dammed Nazis, gets the base bombed. He kinda starts the entire plot off by causing Snowden to die because he took the Morphine out of the first aid kid and he also just took the parachutes out for his syndicate.

I didn't explain this out too well but basically Milo is a personification of Evil of capitalism. "What's good for M&M Enterprises is good for the country" A stole quote from real life but it was General Motors.... POINT is bad.

And people were fawning over him. evil webcite....

Oh right further proof is that fucked up vamp in Hunter the Parenting, Like sure he was hot before he died but after that just, just the dammed worst.

That's it I suppose

yay for Stungun Milly Artwork

[jinxedrose4ever]

Batman's Daughter Ch. 1(Jason Todd x Reader)

Hello. Welcome to my life.

My name is (Y/N) Martha Wayne. Yes, yes. You must be wondering why I have the famous billionaire playboy/crime-fighting vigilante also known as Batman's last name, am I right? Well, I have some explaining to do then. 

In 2007, my father was attending a gala for the opening of a new museum. Nothing interesting there. Just a bunch of stuck-up rich people and women crawling and practically foaming at the mouth to be noticed by my father. Later that night, after a few too many glasses of champagne, he stumbled upon a very wealthy, brilliant, and of course, beautiful woman named Claire Boudiare. Nice name huh? Anywho, she was the daughter of Lucas Boudiare. Owner of a highly well-known company called Boudiare Firearms. They manufactured weapons and sell them to many respectable businesses for security and such. Marrying her was a win-win everywhere. Being united with the woman of his dreams and, after some major debates, fights, and board meetings on why Boudiare Firearms should partner with Wayne Enterprises, my grandfather finally caved in and the companies easily became the strongest and wealthiest businesses known to man.

Now, let's talk about me. I'll fill you in on more family matters later on. So, as you know, my name is (Y/N) Martha Wayne. My middle name is Martha in honor of my dad's mother, my grandmother, Martha Wayne. I'm a senior at Hamilton Hill High School and much to my disgust, everyone treats me like I'm the queen bee. I'm a straight-A student who's taken foreign language classes, been president of the debate club, and was a cheerleader during my freshmen & sophomore year. Right now, I'm filling out applications to Harvard and MIT.

I'm currently dealing with the loss of my very close friend Jason. He died when he and I were 15 and nobody told me how or why. It's been three years since his death and it's been pretty hard on me. Dick and Tim have tried to cheer me up but I just miss Jason. He made me enjoy being a goofball but now... I'm more closed off and prefer to stay away from people, besides my family. I've pretended to be friends with everyone at school but that's just to keep up appearances. 

I found out my father is the great Batman because I may have possibly followed him one night and Nightwing and Robin were there and I'm fangirling because Nightwing is just- Haaaave mercy. I followed them back into the Batcave and they started settling down, then Batman took off his mask. Then Nightwing. Then Robin. I was hiding behind a wall, just staring at them. I just walked out from behind the wall and they were busy doing who knows what, so they didn't notice me. I ran up to the batmobile, jumped in, and then started her up. 

Oh yeah. That caught their attention. They questioned me and were just a tad bit mad but hey, it's not every day you find out your father is Batman and Nightwing is one of your close friends. Oh, and Tim is Robin. He's smart so it makes sense. I found out about all this shortly after Jason's death. It kinda took my mind off it thankfully.

So, like I said it's been 3 years since... his death and I'm 18 now. Young adult. Guys swarming me asking me to be their girlfriend. I know they're just after my looks, reputation, and money. Unlike others, I don't mind or care about my name. I have attended a few opening parties and galas and they're very boring unless you're allowed to drink because nobody is my age. Just adults and old people. Sometimes Dick comes along and he has women drooling for him. I get it, he is extremely handsome but he's my friend. I never liked him like that but could happen, who knows.

Right now, I'm casually lounging in my queen-size bed in my room. 2nd floor. Off the ground but close to the floor if I need to dash. Semi-close to earth. Working on my final project for the 2nd semester. I'm finally gunna graduate pre-hell. The Lord has blessed my travels through high school and school period. I'm gunna start planning my "Last Day of School" outfit and when I walk in, I'm gunna blare one of my favorite songs and-

"It's time for breakfast, hurry up or I'm eating your Eggo waffles shorty!" says Dick who barged into my room and declared war against me. Rule number 1. You don't touch MY food. With that notion- "DICK! YOU STAY AWAY FROM MY FOOD YOU LIVING GARBAGE DISPOSAL!". I dash downstairs and almost crash into my dad and- "Dad?" I tilt my head and look at him curiously. "You're here? I thought you'd be at work," I say intrigued to hear his explanation. "Well, I decided to take the day off because I have some very... interesting news." What does that mean? "Ooo, if you're getting me a Porsche let me tell you now, I love ya." I stand next to him and wrap an arm around him. "Y'know, your right, I deserve this for being just an angel and this also for all the hard work I've done, with me graduating and all. I'm really happy that you trust me with this and-" 

"I'm not getting you a Porsche (Y/n)." 'Dreams. Crushed. But I have other cars in mind.' "So, what kind of car are you getting me then?" Blunt but straight to the point. "Don't insinuate I'm getting you something with no proof because you'll get your hopes up and in the end, you may not even get the car or a car at all. And to clear things up, the interesting news is not about me getting you a car in the first place." 'Dream crusher.' "So... what is the news?" 'He's not hinting at anything in particular or anything at all.' "I'll tell you all at dinner tonight. 8 o'clock sharp everyone. Alfred's preparing lamb chops."

"Cool," says Dick, sitting at the table eating his breakfast. "Well, you said lamb chops so I guess I'll swing by later." 'Of course, he will.' "Okay then, I have nothing better to do so perhaps I'll stay for this announcement," says Tim on the couch, reading a physics book. "Well this all sounds lovely but I have a breakfast to devou- Where. Are my waffles." I turn my head slowly in the direction of Dick and I start growling. "So um- I have to go- uh- to school-". He chuckles nervously and starts backing out of the kitchen and I hiss loudly. "You don't have school Dick-wad! Get your ass over here so I can nail it to the friggin' wall!!" Dick runs off and I intensely chase after him. "With all the money we have, you think they could afford some manners. Tsk," says Tim as he flips to the next page of his book. "She's just like you, except more expressive. And a female. And younger. Her fiery spirit never ceases to amaze me, she must get that from Claire." 

"Perhaps, let's just hope she doesn't kill Dick." Bruce sighs. 

"Eh, he has a 60/40 chance. The 40% being him living, he's totally insane for purposely ticking off (Y/n). But, he's young and dumb and knows not what he does. If he does, then he's just stupid. Idiotic. Insane. Bonkers-".

"I get it, Tim. Go to school." Bruce shakes his head. "Ah, yes of course." When Tim gets up, Bruce has already left the room. "Why does he do that?-"

~Back with (Y/n) and Dick~

Dick hopped on his motorcycle and rode off to who knows where. My hair is a mess from chasing after him and now I'm gunna be late for school. "Great. Today went from "Yay!" to "Just-let-the-Joker-stab-me-why-don't-cha?" I begin to walk back home. 'Hope Dick falls off his motorcycle.'

Today is the anniversary of Jason's death... Ahem- A car would be nice but I think I'm more of a motorcycle gal. I always loved it when Jason would take me on Dick's motorcycle and we would drive around Gotham. Wind blowing through my hair as I hold onto Jason, not caring where he would take me or how long we would be gone... just as long as I'm with him. It's whatever now, I was too young and dumb to have known that I liked him more than a friend back then, and even if I did tell him, he probably didn't like me back. I was probably just a little sister to him.

As I walk back into the house and sit down in the kitchen, I get lost in my thoughts. Wondering how Jason would look right now if he would've lived. The stupid things we would've done together. Hugging him in front of everyone when I know he doesn't like getting all sentimental. Wondering how many girlfriends he would have on one arm due to his natural good looks. Wasn't a people person much but he was the sweetest honey and all the girls in the world were flies, swarming him for attention... Just looking back to when we were inseparable is weird for me, 4 years without him felt longer. Bruce comes up from behind me. "(Y/n), is there a reason you are not at school?" He places his hand on my shoulder and looks down at me. "Well, besides Dick causing me to chase after him instead of going to school and now being late!... I'm just not feeling it today. It's..." I trail off and look up at him. He frowns and rubs my back. "I know. Has it really been 4 years?" I sigh and lower my head. "Yeah..." 

I shift in my seat trying to find a comfortable sitting position. "It's okay (Y/n), we all miss him. He was a big part of our family and important to all of us..." 'I guess he's having a hard day too. He was practically his son.' "Well, you're one of the best students at your entire school and I know today is a very hard day for you so I'll call the principal and say you won't be able to make it to school today." Bruce leans forward a bit and kisses my head. "Thanks, dad." I get up and hug him tightly. "Your welcome my little bat. Now get going before someone sees us hugging." We both start laughing and I let him go. "Oh yeah, wouldn't want to ruin your reputation. I'll be in my room if you need anything." With that, I walk upstairs and start planning my steamy outfit for the last day of school. During school, I was a bit of a player but can you blame me? I'm the daughter of a billionaire ex-playboy and I'm insanely attractive. The other batboys are natural charmers. I, on the other hand, am blood-related to the almighty Batman so y'know, I'm special.

It's currently 10 o'clock and I'm bored. I grab my phone from the side dresser and look and the news. 'This Red Hood is causing issues for my pops and the batboys. He gives them a bad wrap. He's so rageful. I get that most of these crooks have done unmentionable things but going as far as to kill them is just- too much.' "Red Hood strikes again and leaves three unidentified dead bodies near the Gotham Harbor!" 'Tsk. I don't know how he ever thought killing people was a good idea. Might as well be one of Joker's goons if that's where his mindset is.' 

I head down to the Batcave to train because I need to get my mind off things. Jason's anniversary, Red Hood's reckless attacks, last day of school. A lot of important things and each making my stress levels go up.

You must be wondering why I training. No, I'm not a part of our famous bat family in the sense of "I go out with my dad and the boys and go kick Arkham butt", but I need to be prepared if I ever do need to fight. Dad doesn't want me in the "family business" but it'd only be beneficial. I'd be an amazing addition to the team! 

I pull out my phone and check the time "11:30, okay, I have time." I then put on my Bluetooth to connect to the awesome surround sound speakers and put on my favorite song while working out, (f/s). I start with the punching bag. After all, it releases all the energy, anger, stress, and everything into one object I can damage without feeling guilty because it's not a person. After an hour of working out, I head over to the large monitor in the Batcave and see my amazing father put a password on it so I don't use it. "Great, now I need to figure out the password" I huff and pretend to be angry, then laugh. "Can't believe he'll think a simple password will keep me out." I quickly get to work and hack into the computer easily. Taking those computer lessons from Tim was and is truly worth it.

Before I can do what I was thinking of, Dick comes up from behind me and puts his hand on my head, and messes up my hair. "Hey shorty, whatcha doin'?"

"Wow, you come back knowing I could still fully be mad at you? This must be important if you dare face me after the little stunt you pulled earlier. Either that or you're just stupid. Could easily be both so spill, what do you want Dick?"

"First, I wanted to call a truce because I enjoy living. Second, I just wanted to let you know that you've been down here forever. Its already 3:30 and you need to eat lunch."

"Aw, he cares. Since you mentioned it, I am hungry. Makes sense since I didn't eat breakfast. I wonder why." I then glare at Dick.

"Oh uh- I think I hear Damian calling- bye!" says Dick before he dashes off out of the Batcave and I laugh. "Damian isn't even home right now." I stand up from my chair and head back up to the house. I hear everybody talking about something in the living room but I can't hear much. I quietly move closer.

"How do you think she'll take it Bruce?" says Tim. "I'm not sure, this has been very hard on her and I don't think telling her is wise to do at all," says Bruce. "Well we can't keep her in the dark about this forever, she has the right to know!" says Dick. "I already set up the dinner for this so... I'll tell her tonight."

'Tell me what? I won't take what well? Dinner just got way more interesting.'

#batman #fanfic #jason todd

[its-just-me-chey]

Time for another personal rant you can ignore if you like it doesn’t really matter this is purely for purposes to help me feel better…..

So my mom had a heart doctor appointment earlier this month and when I asked her about it my cousin then preceded to be like “you haven’t told your kids about that yet?” At which point naturally I ask what do you mean, mom says they referred her to a heart failure specialist and my immediate reaction to all not necessarily good news is to keep my face straight and stare off into space… my cousin precedes to be like it’s not necessarily bad it’s just they need to do more test cause the first tests we’re inconclusive it’s just a better safe than sorry…. I disagree with that you don’t just casually get referred to a heart failure specialist… now my relationship with my mother is not your usual mother-daughter relationship… my dad raised me cause she constantly chose men and whatever else over us okay never really gave us the time of day is an alcoholic and all that fun stuff which is fine you get over it but when my dad died in 2020 my only response was kind of cling to my mother going down there a lot talking with her (mainly listening to her rant about her bf tbh but still) that relationship started existing see I’ve been really good so far about the situation until today when everything kind of wouldn’t be quiet.

My mother has never been a mother but I love her regardless cause she is the woman that gave birth to me and I’m struggling with being this upset because I mean she wasn’t necessarily ever my favorite person so I’m irritated about her possibly being bad sick and I’m irritated that I’m mad about being upset about it and I know that makes no sense but yeah anyway today I was telling my surrogate mother the news and my natural response was smile and be aloof about it because ya know you got to smile to keep from crying I guess and My surrogate mother had the appropriate response like “oh goodnessI hope she’ll be okay” and my response was “well she don’t take care of herself but it’s fine” and hit her with a 😃 and a 👍🏼 cause that’s my natural response to bad things happening in my life lmao anywho I’m also upset about the fact that if my mother is indeed very badly sick and she (God forbid) she gets really sick really quick and then proceeds to die ☠️ that will be the 3rd person u would have lost in 3 years and I’m just not here for the possibility of death anymore it pisses me off and I’m mad cause I don’t understand why God (cause I do believe in him) would let this happen for the third time this is what keeps going on in my head

My dad died I’m 2020 he was young he was 53 died from a heart attack I was at college I’m my dorm when it happened

My paternal grandmother died a whole year and 6 months after my dad she was 73 she was having liver trouble from what I recall she died in hospice

And now my mom is 46 and she got referred to a heart failure specialist I’m just sorta freaking out

#my life in one post #my heart #it’s fine #everything is fine #i’m ok with it

[shaykai]

Quick PSA: The Shaman Snail is an ass hole.

#no seriously tho #he's also borderline creepy #like. the guy immediately gives you a gift #fails to mention that you cant handle it and youll pass out #(also if you leave and come back without taking it he'll just insist that its worth it and you 100% should take a look at it) #then he presumably drags your unconscious body to the other side of the gate (which he probably has control of by the by) #and doesn't even care. he just tells you that you need to take care of the monster in the cave and then you can leave. #i would like to point out that you very well could have died during that fight (he aslo points out how you wouldnt have stood a chance #without the spell.) #and then you come back and he just sends you out. #not to mention the guys laugh. thats not a good guy laugh. have i mentioned the various skulls arounsnhis house?? #or how he casually mentions you wont be getting very far without the spell in a semi threatening manor. #i dont trust him. at all. asshole. #anywho thanks for comming to my tedtalk #hk #hollow knight #shaman snail #text post