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#sam + fate
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In ten years I need to swing by your house for a little something, that's all.
“Ptolemaea” by Ethel Cain / Supernatural (2005-2011)
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kaleidoru · 1 month
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"I'll make them all pay."
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jackexmachina · 4 months
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@suncaptor birthday event sam & tauma // sam & ocd I would always be like this, always have this within me. There was no beating it. I would never slay the dragon, because the dragon was also me. My self and the disease were knotted together for life. — john green, 'turtles all the way down'
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catspawcreates · 4 months
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Still working on this tribute for my Kill Code sweetheart.
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420technoblazeit · 1 month
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i feel like the reason why sam makes such a good christ figure is that he's not just the chosen sacrifice of the story, he's also shunned and hated for it. the angels don't just see him as an abomination and unworthy of free will or empathy, they hate him because they know that when it comes down to it they also rely on him. after everything they've done, no matter how horribly they've treated him and convinced him that he doesn't deserve redemption, they still expect him to lie down and sacrifice himself. and he in the end he does. but not because they expect him to, but to prove once and for all that they were wrong about him and he can still be good. god what a character
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frankie-idk · 1 year
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this is my grave to all the ships i lost because netflix is the worst
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shadow-pixelle · 6 months
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Here's a random DCxDP snippet!
Wrote this on Monday. Was gonna post it yesterday and then kinda... forgot. It's a completely disconnected snippet- that is, I have no context for what's going on here, what kind of AU it is, or much of anything else at all. Also currently have no plans to try and expand it, though I might mess with it in the future when I have time? We'll see.
Honestly 80% of the reason I'm posting this is because I sent it to Kali and absolutely devastated her with the worldbuilding, so shrug.
--
“I need you to understand,” Danny said, gripping the side of the table. Tucker put a hand on his shoulder for support, and he leaned into it slightly, being very careful to keep his focus on any Bat other than Hood. “And I mean really understand, that this isn’t just- a crime. It’s not that simple.”
“Phantom…?” Red Robin sounded confused, and slightly wary.
Danny couldn’t blame him, given the situation. Ancients, Danny had just had to give up his secret identity just to make sure he didn’t try and kidnap a Bat. Nothing about this situation was normal or reasonable.
“The Infinite Realms has a lot of beings in it.” Tucker said carefully, and Danny could kiss him for being willing to lead the conversation. “Like, a lot. And they’re all ghosts in some form. But the thing about ghosts is that they can’t be killed. They’re already dead, or- like, similar to dead? The only thing you can do to stop them is imprison them or End them.”
“And Ending someone is serious.” Sam took over, stepping forward to lean into Danny’s side. “Ending someone… nothing comes back for that. When we say Ended, we mean it. There is nothing left.”
“The previous Ghost King was a being called Pariah Dark.” Danny began, fixing his eyes on Batman for someone to focus on. “He was insane, a tyrant and a conqueror. Violent. Unwilling to compromise. Anyone who stood in his way was dealt with, one way or another. He wanted to claim everything.”
“No-one tried to stop him?”
Danny’s eyes flicked to Nightwing as Tucker laughed, raw and exhausted. “He was the Ghost King. He ruled the entire Infinite Realms. He carried the sort of power that gods dream of.”
“The Ghost King can force his word, his Rule, on pretty much every being in the Realms. As close to absolute power as you can get, in the end. Everything in the Realms is made from ectoplasm, and the Ghost King can manipulate that at levels most people can’t even start to believe. There’s only two types of beings that can even try to resist that.”
“One’s the Ancients. They’re old ghosts, the oldest you can get. Incarnations of gods, concepts, things like that. But the problem with that is that they’re also limited, kinda. They can disobey the Crown, no matter what sort of Rules it puts out, but fighting back? They can stop him, sure, that’s how Pariah Dark got sealed away the first time, but they can’t stop him being King. They can’t take the Crown, even if they win. They’re bound too much to the things they incarnate, the gods they were and are. They can’t be the Ghost King. Those ties stop them being as firmly Ruled over, but it means they can’t take the Crown away. All they can do is delay it.”
“The second,” Danny took over again from his friends, grateful for their support, as the various Bats around the room looked horrified. Afraid. And for good reason, really.
It was only going to get worse.
“The second were beings called Halfas.”
A breath.
“Halfas are the only beings in the entire Infinite Realms that aren’t entirely ecto. Not alone. They’re… well. Half.”
“Half beings.”
“Half living, half dead.”
“And because of that, they’re the Balance.” Danny leaned into Sam, letting Tucker step closer again. “Equally alive and dead. Equally bound to their ecto and not. Halfas were the Balance because they cannot be Ruled.”
“From what we understand, Halfas were created by the Realms itself.” Sam said quietly. “They existed to be the Balance. Slipping from living to dead to living whenever they wanted, all the powers of a ghost and all the benefits of a living being mixed into one.”
“They were rare, because they couldn’t be killed. Kill the human side, and the ghost half keeps them alive until they recover. You can’t kill a ghost, and anything that could contain a ghost, the human side walks right out of. They were there as Balance, between the living and the dead. Advisors to the Ghost King, helping to keep things smooth between the living and the dead whenever they had to interact. Balance. Beings that couldn’t be Ruled by the Ghost King because they were as much alive as ecto.”
“They were there to stop tyrants.”
Tucker nodded at Robin’s quiet voice, and paused. It was an offer to Danny, he knew, to take this part as well. He and Sam knew everything about this. Danny didn’t need to be the one to explain.
He spoke up. “From what records say, there were around six thousand Halfas at the start of Pariah Dark’s reign.” He told them. “They were the Balance. They saw what Pariah Dark was doing and had a duty to stop it. Up until ten years ago, there were no Halfas in existence.”
The group seemed to pale.
“Halfas can’t be killed, but anything can be Ended.” He said quietly. “Pariah Dark went around every single Halfa that came to stop him, and he destroyed them so utterly that they cannot exist any more. Not as ambient ectoplasm in the Realms, not as shades or smaller spirits, not as a being in the reincarnation cycle waiting to live and die. Every single one of those Halfas no longer exists, because he destroyed everything that made them them and then destroyed all the remaining pieces as well.
“Dark Pariah was a tyrant. And he was the reason that I learned everything about my entire species from second or third hand knowledge. Everything that I know about myself? I either figured it out myself, found it in some of the few books that still exist about Halfas, or heard it from the Ancients. And those last two didn’t know much at all, in the end. Halfas were so rare that the only thing most beings got were rumours, and the Ancients weren’t an exception to that, and not many Halfas ever bothered to write things down about themselves and their powers. They couldn’t die, after all.”
Danny shivered, a little. Sam and Tucker leaned in more on either side, keeping him upright as much as the table was. None of the Bats were moving.
“I’m telling you this because I need you to understand,” he said again. “Pariah Dark was a tyrant. A nightmare. The worst thing to happen to the Realms ever. He committed so many genocides that there aren’t records of it any more, and the only silver lining,” he spat the words, mocking, because there is no silver lining in senseless slaughter, “Is that all but one of these were against the living. They were allowed to exist as ghosts. Pariah Dark was a monster.”
Danny wrenched his eyes away from Batman and looked directly at Red Hood. He pushed down the impulse to take him away, to hide him, to get him to Frostbite for help and maul and destroy anyone who got in his way, who tried to threaten him-
He pushed down his shudder, and looked Red Hood directly in the eyes.
“Pariah Dark was a monster, and even he would consider what was done to you unforgivable.”
Hood jolted. So did the rest of the Bats, looking for all the world like they’d just restarted breathing again, no longer frozen in time.
“We can’t explain to you what we’re seeing.” Sam said from his side, and she sounded almost apologetic. “It’s- literally, there are no words in any living language to explain what it looks like. And we’re only Liminal, a little bit dead. We don’t see as clearly as beings like Phantom do. But it’s-”
Words seemed to fail her, and Tucker reached around Danny’s back to squeeze her shoulder in comfort.
Danny tried, pulling his eyes away from Hood again so he could think past the urge to steal him away and hide him somewhere safe. “It’s like I’m looking at a baby.” He tried to explain. “Or- I don’t know. A puppy? Whatever cute little thing you want to go with. Something small and delicate and needing to be looked after. Something that shouldn’t be on it’s own, because it’s too young to survive. Like someone took a premature puppy, and then just.” He paused. Gestured. “Just mutilated it. Whatever horrible things you can think of, the most evil things you can imagine at all, just. All of that. And then left it crying in the trash to rot and die, except it can’t die.”
None of the Bats that he could see out of the corner of his eye look well. Hood was-
His core, the half-mangled thing that was barely there, barely able to exist and yet still trying desperately to survive, was shrieking in horror.
“Phantom’s a Protection spirit.” Sam murmured, into the silence of that. “He’s a guardian, every instinct he has is aimed at keeping people safe.”
“I can’t look at you right now.” Danny confessed to that tiny lost child. “If I look at you too long, I just- Every instinct I have is telling me to get you away, to take you back to the Realms and hide you somewhere safe while I get a doctor or twelve, and that if anyone else gets even close to you they need to be mauled. I transformed because those instincts were even worse in ghost form, and I didn’t want to hurt anyone who wasn’t responsible for this.”
“I want to wrap them up in vines and strangle them.”
“I’d kinda like to suffocate all of them in sand and then mount them on a wall or something.”
“And they’re Liminal.” Danny added. “They’re not even fully dead, barely even dead at all. Any being of the Realms that sees you is going to want to help, or at least get vengeance, because it’s-
“It’s not even something Pariah Dark would do, and he committed a genocide of an entire people just because he didn’t want to be held accountable and couldn’t stand having people he couldn’t control in the Realms.”
For a long, long moment, no-one spoke. None of them even seemed to be breathing.
Danny flickered his eyes across Hood one more time, then focused on Batman again.
“So,” he said, as firmly as he could. “I’d quite like to know who did that to him. Because my next step is going to be to call the Council, get war declared on them, and then erase them.”
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I fucking love fate of the faithful, cause they really said oh what's the result of blind faith and lack of critical thought? your doom!! any power you follow unquestioningly will ultimately betray you!!
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pregstiel · 4 months
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season 4 is the start of the "dean is always right" trend. like god, how much more interesting would it have been if ruby was being genuine the whole time? she legitimately wanted to stop the apocalypse, legitimately thought killing lilith was the only way to do it. how much crazier would lucifer rising be if everyone is shocked by what happens? if ruby survives and she and sam have to deal, together, with inadvertently causing the apocalypse? what do you even do in that scenario, when it turns out you were the rube and the lynchpin for hell's plans all at once? it would be interesting! and it would make sam and dean way more balanced -- dean is right that what sam is doing is bad, but sam's judgment about ruby is ultimately correct, and she continues to help them. it would be so much juicer than sam just being wrong about everything and dean knew the right path the whole time
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socksandbuttons · 1 year
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A whole Lunar post because he... is my baby now. I have decided he needs the world and look at him go. Beautiful. Watch ONE show and suddenly u have blorbo. Lunar being from the Sun and Moon Show on youtube. The lore got to me.
Bonus Lunar alt stuff cause i wanna try giving him soemthing. i love seeing the multitude of many deisgns people have done. I also love the new design look at him. Showtime.
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the sleeves ar enice but also fluffy.... but it hides his arms which i like the gradient so.
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sehnsuchts-trunken · 4 months
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Fate - The Winx Saga Masterlist
as always, if you want to read everything i've written about this, including match ups and all, click here
also warning, this list seems endless. i've written so many drabbles for this fandom omfg
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Riven:
Sky's Little Sister
Dance with me
Annoying the Others, as Always
Protective
That's usual Riven
Sky Walks In
Studies and Smoking
Riven is a Softie
Riven's Shirt
There's other people around, damn it!
Tension
No Kisses, just Smoking
Sharing a Cig
First Time Smoking
Carry Me
Caught
Bookworm
Forgetful
Study Sessions
Off my Leg, Please
Stop Snogging in front of Our Faces | Part Two
In Class
Board Games
Reunion
Slow Mornings
Tired
Training Sessions
The Worst
Sickness
Take Care of Me
Muddy, Dirty, Flirty
Riven is Nervous
Happy Place
Favourite Hoodie
Self-Defence Lessons
Earth Fairy Powers
Men Suck
One Bed Trope
You're with Him?
Drunk
Insomniac
Birthday
A Drunk and a Dumbass
Drenched and Bitchy
Booknerd
Napping on his Shoulder
Ice Fairy Powers
Give It Back!
Is that my Shirt?
Almost Caught
Perfectly Sober
No, It's Freezing
Cheating on Sam
Sky and Riven Fighting About You
Poly Relationship with Sky and Reader Headcanons
Poly with Bea and Reader
Dating Riven Headcanons
Enemies to Lovers Headcanons
Sam:
Secret, No Secret
Together or Not At All
Go to Sleep
Still Awake
Apparently We Are Dating
Grey:
Drunk
One Bed
Come back to Bed, Baby
Safe and Sound
Who Needs Training?
Childhood Friends
Date
First Kiss
Almost Fryed Me There
I'm (not) here Illegally
Dating Grey Headcanons
Sky:
Christmas Season
Smoking
Nightmares
Sky's Sister
Chronic Pain
Training Accident
Sky and Riven Fighting About You
Poly Relationship with Riven and Reader Headcanons
Beatrix:
Cramps
Take Care of Me
Breaking and Entering
Cigarettes and Making Out
Poly with Riven and Reader
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starheirxero · 4 months
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BY THE WAYYYY. i know i say this like every time but i loveee eclipse's fear and doubt and spiralling in this ep <3
I love how many of his sentences end with "don't you/aren't you" like he's unsure of his own claims. I love that he now in the exact same situation as when he first came into existence: wholly and utterly trapped with little hope of gaining control. I love that he's borderline hysterical at the end. I love that he admitted how pathetic he feels. I love the horrors ^_^
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SPN 1.05 - Bloody Mary
Saying Bloody Mary in the mirror as a joke is some white people shit frfr 😭
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thatoneudguy · 4 months
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I love Until Dawn (evidently) but omg everytime I play the game or think abt the game I end up feeling so gd sad. Like damn its bleak. Josh Washington genuinely has made me cry more times than I can count.
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hearts-hunger · 1 year
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Chapter One: A Flash of Steel and Silver {Series Masterlist | Series Playlist ♫}
Series Summary: You've been called the Jewel of the Bay, a lady born and bred in one of the Royal Navy's most profitable ports of call. On a fateful summer night, taken aboard the pirate ship Starcatcher, your world is turned upside down. To survive, you must put your faith in the honor among thieves and learn to trust the devotion of a pirate to his most precious treasure.
Pairings: Jake x Reader, Sam x Danny, Josh x Reader | Chapter Word Count: 4.7k | Warnings: AU-typical violence, harassment, historically accurate misogyny
A/N: My sweethearts! This is my very first time doing an au like this, and I'm very excited to share it with you. I have no concrete plans for this series, and no update schedule - I'm just seeing where the wind takes me on this one. I know it's different from my other fics, but I really hope you like it! ♡
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Pirates. 
The word alone struck fear into the hearts of the people of Sapphire Bay, sending them inside to lock their doors and close the window shutters with a firm crack. Those devils marked by the branding iron were hated and feared, considered with a mix of awe and horror and morbid curiosity. To meet one meant certain death; for the superstitious, even to speak of one meant the calling down of hell’s rapacious wrath upon the new world’s fragile kingdom of islands. Everywhere, in hushed voices and cautious glances at the western horizon, people dreaded the coming of those demons. Pirates.
You had learned to fear them just as much as anyone, the threat of them always lingering in the back of your mind, but there was an insatiable curiosity that held you captive any time you so much as heard them mentioned. Your late father, the former governor of Sapphire Bay, had spoken of them often; you’d grown up on snatches of conversations heard from the other side of his study door, tales of murder and thievery and drunken escapades, stories of freedom and bravery and adventure.
Those stories had continued to fascinate you even as you became a woman, and you were more interested in them now than you had been as a child. Lucky, then, that you’d been betrothed to Commander Kit Drake of the battleship Black Smoke; his own closed-door conferences about the pirates that roamed the seas provided an endless diversion to your hungry imagination.
Hearing those stories was perhaps the only lucky thing about your betrothal, and you reminded yourself to try and think of other silver linings as your lady’s maid dressed you for dinner at the Commodore’s estate. 
“He’ll tell me how beautiful I look,” you said to yourself, touching light fingers to your lightly rouged lips. “Surely he will.”
“Indeed he will, miss,” your lady’s maid said as she styled your hair. “You’ll be the jewel of the bay this evening, all sparkling in the candlelight.”
You met her eyes in the mirror. “Thank you, Tabby. You’re very kind.”
She smiled. “Have you decided what necklace and earrings you’ll be wearing tonight, miss?”
You brushed a hand over your deep blue bodice. “I suppose the sapphires would be best, wouldn’t they?”
“As you say, miss. Commander Drake will surely be pleased to see you wearing his gift.”
Tabby finished your hair, a relatively understated crown of curls, and spangled you with trinkets from your jewelry box that could have fed and housed a family for several months. You touched a hand to the blue gem that rested in a swath of silver, the centerpiece of the heavy necklace that felt more like a collar for a dog than a gift of love from your fiancé. 
“There you are, miss,” Tabby said when you were ready. “I’ll tell the footman to bring the carriage ‘round.”
The Commodore’s estate was right on the bay, a sprawling mansion that put even your father’s estate to shame in sheer grandiosity. Several carriages stopped outside the main doors, ladies in fine dresses and men in naval uniform stepping out to join the group that filed into the golden, candlelit hall inside. Your attention was drawn to the sea as you waited, watching the way the moonlight dashed itself to bits across the glittering surface of the water.
“My dear. You finally made it.”
You looked over from the bay to the door of your carriage. “Kit.”
A frown tugged at your fiancé’s expression. “You mustn’t call me that here, dearest, you know that. Commander Drake or ‘sir’ will suffice.”
You flushed, wishing you’d remembered that rule. “Of course, sir.”
You accepted his hand when he offered it to you, and you looked up at him with girlish eagerness to see if he’d comment on your appearance.
“I wore the jewels you gave me at our engagement,” you said quietly.
He gave you a distracted glance. “Oh. Yes, I suppose you did.”
“Do you... do you like them?” you asked, crestfallen.
He breathed a short sigh. “They’re lovely, my dear. Let’s not tarry, shall we? I’m afraid you’ve already made us late.”
He offered his arm, and you hung off of it as a good young lady should. Your head turned back to the sea, just for a moment, and you thought you caught a glimpse of a shooting star reflected on the waves.
“We’ve got to double our presence on the coasts of the southern isles. We’ll rout them simply by being there in force. They wouldn’t dare to try and attack any of the ports there if we made our presence more obvious.”
You took a sip of wine and tried to look bored, knowing that the quickest way to get navy men to stop talking of pirates was for a lady to show an interest in their conversation. If they didn’t consider you too delicate or stupid for that kind of talk, they’d fear for some kind of longing to spark within you, the same kind they allowed to rage unchecked as they sailed on their mighty seafaring vessels.
“No corsair in these waters is a match for any of our fleet,” Kit argued. He gesticulated and narrowly missed your wine glass as you set it down. “I say with conviction, gentlemen, that there is no need to add even a single ship to those we already have out of port.”
“Maybe they’re not a match for your ship, Commander,” said a lady on the opposite end of the table. You glanced over with mild panic, wishing you could tell her merely to listen, but the gentlemen she was interrupting didn’t seem to mind.
“I’ve heard you gentlemen say the Black Smoke is the fastest ship in the Royal Navy,” she said, and there was a flirtatious intonation to her voice that drew the men in like moths to the flame. “However, I’ve also heard it said that there is a pirate galleon in our waters that can match it for speed.”
“Name the ship,” a lieutenant challenged.
The lady smiled. “Starcatcher.”
The name caused a flutter of excitement to stir in your breast. Starcatcher. It certainly sounded like a fast ship, and no vessel in the Royal Navy had such a wonderful name.
“Nonsense,” Kit said, waving her remark aside even as he trained his attention on the coy curve of her mouth. “The Starcatcher is a myth told to frighten new deck hands. No such ship exists.”
“No?” the lady asked with an elegant lift of her brow. “And what of its sister ship, the Indigo Streak? Some men say it can disappear into thin air.”
“Some men are fools,” Kit said, and his smirk betrayed his arrogance. “No doubt you’ve heard these same men claim to have seen the witches that serve as the figureheads of each ship.”
“They’re not witches,” another man protested. “I’ve heard they’re meant to be Nike and Themis, goddesses of victory and justice.”
Kit scoffed. “Victory and justice, indeed. Even if these ships did exist, what victory and justice could be won outside the King’s authority?”
“Pirates don’t consider the King’s authority legitimate, though, do they?”
All gazes swung to you, and you felt a wash of embarrassment follow the heady flush of having impetuously offered your own opinion. Kit’s face went pink with anger.
“What a pirate thinks of the King’s authority means little,” he said sharply. He took your hand under the table and gave it an uncomfortable squeeze, leaning close. “And what a woman thinks of it means even less, my dear, so I suggest you keep such foolish thoughts to yourself.”
He released your hand with disdain, and you shied away from him as far as you could. You understood perfectly well why the lady with the deep red lips was allowed to speak and you were not; her comments were meant to incite men to braggadocio and pride, and yours only called into question their self-assurance. You would not speak merely to stroke a man’s ego, pirate or King’s man or anyone in between; most at the table considered it better, in that event, for you to keep your mouth shut entirely.
You took another long drink of wine and tried to keep your hands from shaking. Of a sudden, everything was overwhelming; the sound of tittering laughter and silver forks against china dishes, the smell of dozens of different perfumes, the heat of the candles that cast flickering beams onto jewels and gold buttons and silver sword handles. You felt pressed in on all sides with an extravagant meal you couldn’t hope to finish in front of you, men to the right and left of you, servants behind you to tend to your every need should you so much as wave an indolent hand. 
You took a deep breath, as deep as you could with your stays laced as tightly as they were, and dug into the reserve of feminine gentility and self-control that had been trained into you since birth.
“Commander,” you said quietly, touching your hand to his sleeve. He ignored you, and desperation clawed at you.
“Sir,” you said in a pleading whisper.
With a frustrated huff, he turned away from his companions and met your eyes. “What is it?”
“I beg your pardon,” you said. “I — I suddenly feel quite ill. My head, it’s...”
He snapped his fingers, and a footman came to his side to await his instruction in perfect silence.
“Attend the lady,” he said, gesturing to you with impatience and contempt. “She’s taken ill, apparently.”
The footman bowed his head. “M’lord.” He pulled your chair out and gave you his hand; you took it, offering a feeble excuse to those few who noticed your departure and cared to comment.
“Shall I show you to one of the guest chambers, m’lady?” the footman asked when you were safely outside the dining hall.
You shook your head. “No, thank you. I wonder... could you help me find the gardens? I would be so grateful for a breath of fresh air.”
“Very good, m’lady,” was the man’s response. He escorted you to the gardens. “Shall I ring for a lady’s maid to accompany you?”
“That won’t be necessary,” you said. “Thank you for your help, sir.”
He bowed. “M’lady.”
A bit of the peace you so dearly needed was found out in the garden, and you wandered in the cool darkness of the shrubs and trees blossoming with flowers of every hue. You took a deep breath of the warm night air as you walked over the cobblestones, closing your eyes for a moment to drink in the quiet of birdsong and the ever-present hush of waves upon the shore. You longed to go down to the water, if only for a moment; what relief it would bring to feel the cool waves lapping at your ankles, to feel the salty breeze skim over your cheek with all the tenderness of a lover’s hand. You opened your eyes and felt its dark, silver-scaled presence call you like a mother to a child, begging you to leave the world you knew behind.
“Foolishness,” you whispered, pressing your hand against the merciless shackle of sapphire and silver that hung about your neck. You could never leave. You would be here, always, looking out upon the water, wearing its color on your breast, never quite close enough to touch.
You heard your name called from a direction opposite the ocean. Footsteps sounded behind you, and you did not allow yourself to breathe the sigh that waited ever-ready at your lips.
“I only needed some air, Commander,” you said without turning to him. “I’ll be well enough to join the ladies in the parlor after dinner.”
Without warning, Kit grabbed your wrist in a punishing grip and spun you towards him.
“Turn to me when I call you,” he said in a low, dangerous voice. “Do not presume to speak to me with an air of indifference.”
Your blood ran cold at the anger in his face. “I didn’t — I wasn’t trying to — ”
“I knew you weren’t ill,” he said, squeezing your wrist tighter. “You left because you wanted to shame me, didn’t you? Or perhaps because you were petulant about my correction?”
“No,” you said weakly, trying to tug your hand from his grip. “Please, Kit, you’re hurting me.”
He took your jaw in his other hand and squeezed it. “I told you not to call me that. Do you mean to respect me at all tonight? Or shall I have to teach you a lesson in obedience?”
You paled. You tried to find your voice to try and calm him, to apologize, but another man’s voice broke in before you could.
“Take your hands off the lady.”
Kit released your jaw, more out of surprise than any desire to obey. You tried to pull out of his grip, but he held fast to your wrist.
“Who spoke?” Kit asked into the darkness of the garden. “Show your face.”
“Take your hands off the lady, as I said,” the man repeated. “I’ve got a pistol aimed straight for your heart, Commander, and I assure I won’t miss.”
Kit’s face flushed an angry red. To your surprise and relief, he let you go, and you put a few steps of distance between you.
“How dare you speak to me in such a way?” Kit thundered. “I demand that you to come into the light and show yourself.”
No sooner had he spoken than a man sauntered out of the shadows of a copse of palm trees, a flintlock pistol held in an almost lazy manner in Kit’s direction. The hilt of a cutlass on his hip caught the light of the moon.
“You demand it, aye?” the man asked. His long hair was dark, his frame lean and hard-muscled; he was practically indecent, his cotton shirt unbuttoned to reveal a collection of necklaces that rested against his tanned chest. You blushed and averted your eyes when he looked at you.
“Makes you wonder,” he continued conversationally, turning his attention back to your fiancé. “Perhaps your King ought to call you Demander rather than Commander.”
Kit put his hand to the hilt of his saber. “What are you, boy?” he said derisively. “Beggar? Thief? Be on your way before I arrest you for harassing an officer.”
The man’s mouth turned up in a crooked smile as he returned his pistol to its holster at his waist. 
“Go ahead, Commander. Though I doubt if you’ll find there’s any jailhouse to throw me in by the time you do.”
Kit looked the man over in confusion and absolute fury. He opened his mouth to speak, but an explosion from the outskirts of town effectively cut across him.
“What’s the meaning of this?” Kit raged. He looked to see the billow of smoke from the direction of the jailhouse, then whipped his head back to look at the man.
“You’re a fool to attempt a prison break,” he said. “There’s plenty of brigs in the fleet to throw you and your worthless comrades in once we collect all of you.”
Kit drew his sword, and the man had drawn his and disarmed Kit in a flash of steel and silver quicker than you could see it. Kit’s sword clattered across the cobblestones and skidded to a halt at the man’s feet.
“I’d be careful who you draw your sword against tonight, Commander,” the man said. He kicked the saber back towards Kit. “You won’t find my men as forgiving as I am.”
“Your men?” Kit blustered, shame and fury mottling his face. “Who the devil do you think you are?”
A cocky smile lit the man’s face, and you found it somewhat maddening and almost alluring. Confidence radiated from him like warmth from the sun, and you watched in fascination as he took a step closer to Kit.
“You don’t know me?” he asked. He lifted his sleeve; just above the white bracelet he wore was the scarred mark of a pirate.
“You gave me this, Commander Drake,” the man said. “Though I suppose you were only a lieutenant back then, weren’t you?”
“Scum,” Kit spat. “I should have known. I’ve branded enough of your kind that you all run together into one wretched mass.”
“I see,” the man said. He sheathed his cutlass again even as Kit bent to retrieve his, seemingly unconcerned with the possibility of a duel. He tilted his head towards the Commodore’s house.
“In that case,” he said airily, “I’d love to be the one to tell you that the wretched mass is running together in your Commodore’s estate as we speak. Taking your jewels, your gold, your spit-polished swords that have yet to taste blood. It’s only a matter of time before they interrupt your little dinner party, I fear.”
As if on cue, pandemonium erupted from inside the house. Doors burst open, sending a flood of screaming party guests outside with pirates right on their heels, each of them armed to the teeth and crowing with delight.
“Filthy pirate!” Kit howled. “I’ll have you and every one of your men hanged for this!”
“Oh, Commander,” the man said with a winning smile. “You’ll make me blush with that kind of talk.”
Bang. A bullet whipped past the three of you, slamming into the trunk of a palm tree and sending out a shower of splintered wood. You flinched and raised your arms to shield yourself.
“Aye, watch yourself,” the pirate called to whoever had fired. He sounded only mildly annoyed rather than fearful for his life, and you wondered if it was bravery or stupidity that made him so calm.
Suddenly, Kit grabbed your arm and snatched you close to him. For the second time that night, he held you in an iron grip, and there was little you could do to fight him off.
“You’ll tell your men to let me go,” Kit said, panic crawling into his voice. “You’ll order them not to shoot me, because if they do, they’ll hurt the lady.”
You startled at the knowledge that your fiancé was using you as a human shield, offering you as a bargaining chip to a pirate. You tried to wriggle out of his grip, but he held you fast.
The pirate scowled. “Coward,” he spat. “What sort of man are you, Commander?”
“One not condemned to death,” Kit said, a maniacal glee in his voice. “Not tonight.”
He started to drag you with him as he made his way out of the garden, heading with slow steps towards the docks rather than the house where screams and gunfire still rang through the air. You kicked and clawed, begging him to let you go, terrified that a bullet meant for him would kill you too.
“Let me go, Kit!” you pleaded, tears streaming down your cheeks. “You worthless coward, let me go!”
“Silence yourself!” he hissed in your ear. “Once we’re well away from this, we’ll both be safe.”
He clapped a hand over your mouth, and it only made your panic and anger worse. You had to get free of him — he was squeezing you so tightly, you couldn’t breathe — 
In a last, desperate attempt at freedom, you bit down, hard, on the soft junction between his thumb and first finger. He bellowed in pain and released you.
“Bitch!” he howled, backhanding you across the face. The force of it made you dizzy, and his signet ring cut your cheek; you stumbled backwards, falling in a tangle of blue skirts to the unforgiving stone walkway.
“Right, that’s it.”
You heard the pirate’s voice as if from somewhere far away. You looked up with a bleary gaze; he stood next to you, his pistol held aloft and pointed right at Kit.
“No!” you shrieked.
You grabbed at his leg to try and stop him, somehow, blind devotion for Kit urging your forward. The pirate didn’t even seem to notice you, and your whole body flinched at the sound of gunfire. You squeezed your eyes shut even as sobs wracked your body.
“Come on, lass.”
You felt the pirate's callused hands reach to help you up, and you reacted in terror-stricken instinct.
“Don’t hurt me!” you begged, trying to get out of his reach, woozy with fear and pain. “Please, don’t hurt me. Let me go. I won’t tell anyone you killed him, I promise.”
“I didn’t kill him,” he said harshly. “Quit fighting, lass. I won’t hurt you, but you have to come with me.”
You looked up at him, and his face was blurry through your tears. “But you’re a pirate.”
“Aye,” he agreed. “And your only chance of making it out of here alive.”
He offered you his hand, and you didn’t see any other choice but to take it. His grip was strong and steady, firm enough to help you but gentle enough to keep from hurting.
“Attagirl,” he said when you were standing. “Steady, now. Can you walk?”
“Yes,” you breathed. For some reason, you didn’t let go of his hand. “Where are we going?”
He nodded towards the bay. “My ship. You’ll stay there until all this settles down, and then I’ll take you back home.” 
Shattering glass brought your attention to the house momentarily; a raging fire billowed out of the broken window, sending great clouds of smoke up towards the sky.
“Unless you live here,” the pirate said. “In which case, you’ll have to find other arrangements.”
You could do nothing but stare at him for a moment, bewildered and dazed. “But... why?”
“Why what?”
“Why are you helping me?”
He looked over your shoulder towards Kit, who lay groaning and weak in the grass with a bullet wound to the shoulder. His expression held nothing but disgust and contempt for your fiancé.
“I don’t like to see a lady mistreated,” he said. He gave your hand a gentle tug. “Come on. This way.”
You followed after him, helpless not to, feeling outside of yourself as you tried to think past the pain in your jaw and the overwhelming fear that still held you captive. He led you through the garden and down to the Commodore’s private docks where a skiff was waiting.
“Wait.” You stopped and tugged on his hand, and he turned to face you.
“What is it?” he asked, a touch of urgency to his voice. 
You looked to the skiff and then back to him. “How — ” You swallowed nervously. “How do I know you won’t hurt me?”
He looked a little lost for a response. “I don’t know, lass. I believe you’ll just have to trust me.”
“Trust a pirate?” you asked, choking a little on the words.
He gave you a grim half-smile. “Could be worse.”
“How on earth could it be worse?”
He didn’t answer you, distracted by the sight of several more skiffs approaching the docks. You followed his gaze and saw they were coming from two huge galleons further out in the bay.
“Heavens,” you breathed. You didn’t know how you could have missed them, but they suddenly loomed like two great monsters on the surface of the water.
He pulled you towards the boat. “Come on, lass,” he urged. “The second wave’s coming in soon, and they don’t mind me as well as I’d wish them to. I’d rather you not be out here when they come.”
You met his gaze. “Second wave? There’s more of you?”
He huffed a short, mirthless laugh and ushered you into the skiff with little grace. Your became hopelessly tangled in your skirts and sat uncomfortably on the opposite side from him.
“You may wish to take off some of those cumbersome overskirts, lassie,” he said, taking the oars and rowing you out to the giant ships. “You’ll get them caught in something and get hurt.”
You blushed vividly. “Take off my skirts?” you repeated, incredulous and mortified at the idea, though you noticed you didn’t sense any salacious undercurrent to his suggestion. “I certainly will not. Just because you run around in a state of undress does not mean I will.”
He shrugged. “Suit yourself.”
You sat in silence as you came ever nearer to the twin galleons, feeling a caving pressure in your chest as they loomed closer. You looked around for something, anything, to distract you; against your better judgment, your gaze landed on the movement of your pirate rescuer’s strong arms with each pull of the oars.
You looked away, chastising yourself for such foolishness in the face of everything else that had happened.
When you reached the closer ship, you looked up at the cargo net that hung over the side with more than a little trepidation. How were you ever going to climb it in your dress?
Your pirate — when had you started to think of him as your pirate? — gave a theatrical gesture to the net. “Ladies first.”
You huffed, feeling anger at your situation start to override any other emotion. All you’d wanted tonight was to have a nice, unexciting dinner, and yet here you were, standing before a pirate and about to board his ship in the middle of the night.
“Very well,” you said tartly, dredging up some reserve of courage and feistiness from whatever was left in the hollow of your chest. With some difficulty, you reached under the waist of your blue overskirt and untied the two underskirts and hoop skirt underneath. He had the decency to avert his gaze, at least, but your face was still hot with embarrassment as you shimmied out of them and slipped off your uncomfortable shoes.
When all that was left to cover your undergarments was your overskirt and bodice, you stepped in your stocking-feet onto the first loop of rope on the cargo net.
“Mind your gaze, pirate,” you said, managing with a fair bit of exertion to climb the net. He scaled it with you, quick and nimble, and gave you a grin when he reached your perch.
“Pirate sounds such a dirty word when you say it,” he said, and there was a teasing lilt to his voice that gave you the strangest fluttering sensation in your chest. “You’d better just call me Jake.”
Oh, but you didn’t like knowing his name. Not one bit.
“Fine,” you said, tearing your gaze from his. “Mind your gaze, Jake.”
He grinned. “Only if you mind yours, lass.” He stepped up another rung and climbed the rest of the way with ease. You gave a dejected sigh and continued your laborious ascent to the railing of the ship.
When you reached the top of the net, Jake was waiting for you. He offered you a hand up, and it was only with his help that you managed to get aboard without falling on your face.
You looked up when you were steady. “Oh, dear.”
Several pirates stood frozen along the deck, watching you with a mix of shock, hostility, and undeniable interest. Each one of them was armed, sword hilts glinting at their hips and pistols tucked into belts that looped over their barrel-sized chests.
“Easy, lass,” Jake said, taking hold of your arm again. You barely registered that you’d made a sudden, jerky movement to flee the ship and go back down the net, but he’d stopped you before you could go anywhere.
“None of my men will hurt you,” he promised, and when you met his eyes with a terrified glance, you saw that he meant it.
“I have to trust you on this, too?” you asked feebly.
His mouth curved in a smile. “Aye. You’re getting the idea, lass.”
He let you go, a testament to his trust in you not to try and run, and nodded to the stairs before you.
“Allow me to escort you to my quarters,” he said.
You flushed. “Y-your quarters?”
“Indeed. Where I shall leave you to your own devices and come back out to be with my men.”
You gave a shaky sigh of relief. “Oh. Very well.”
You’d taken no more than two steps towards the stairs when another man appeared at the top of them, his features strikingly similar to Jake’s but done up in dark makeup that matched the black clothes he wore.
“Why, my dear Jakey,” he said with a glittering smile. “What have we here?”
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shadow-pixelle · 4 months
Text
The snippet continues...
Part one is here, and part two is here.
I've actually had this bit done for a while now, and I've got another couple of scenes ready to go. Plus I've started figuring out how we got here and some of the other worldbuilding stuff, too.
Might need to actually give this AU a name sometime soon.
Until then, though, enjoy the next chunk of things!
--
Danny felt a little bad for how quickly he relaxed once Hood was out of sight. It wasn’t like it was the guy’s fault that his core was fucked up.
But still, the pressure of not giving in to all his instincts calling for him to take the kid and run had been… difficult. Especially considering the atmosphere of the room.
He hadn’t been wrong earlier that kidnapping was a bad idea, right now.
Sam and Tucker both relaxed as well, which made Danny feel a little better about his reaction, and took their hands from where they were grabbing him. It wouldn’t have helped if he’d decided to say fuck it and lunge, but the pressure of them holding onto him had helped him remember not to phase into intangibility and portal out.
The tension wasn’t much better, though.
Nightwing was frozen, reaching out towards where Hood had ran like he could somehow grab the guy’s shoulder and stop him from bolting. The others in the room- Red Robin, Robin, Batman- were just as still; the two Robins staring at Danny, Batman staring at nothing.
Batman.
There was a twinge in the air, in their bonds, from Sam. She wanted to strangle him, and honestly, Danny wasn’t too inclined to stop her right now. That was probably the Protection spirit talking, really, rather than any sort of logic, but hey, sue him. He was a halfa and his Obsession was just as there as any other ghost. That meant keeping people safe.
And that was before he got into any of the Ghost King shit.
He felt Tucker reach around Danny’s back and grasp Sam’s elbow, apparently sensing both her wish for murder and Danny’s general lack of care.
“I think we should go.” Tucker said, quickly but quietly, in Danny’s ear. He huffed a little, but nodded, transforming back into his ghost form with a flicker. It would be a good idea to let everyone cool down after that, plus it would get Sam away from her current plant food target.
The shift seemed to snap the Bats out of it, at least a little. Nightwing snapped over to look at them, and Red Robin made a small sound. “Go?”
“And let you… process.” Danny said, wrapping his tail around Sam’s waist. She huffed, a sharp and violent sound, but finally relaxed entirely into him rather than preparing to snap, which was good. “I understand that there was a lot of information there, that you likely want time to think through.”
Tucker leaned a little forward again, a small nudge, and Danny nodded, knowing what he wanted. It was easier to focus on their Grief bonds now, with Hood’s core not in the room and making it hard to think beyond instincts if they weren’t talking.
“We’ll make contact with you again in a few days, or you can contact us.” He added. It wouldn’t be hard, Tucker had been working on figuring out some kind of link to them since they arrived here, and being in their home base would’ve helped. “But for now I think it would be best if we left.”
“But-” Nightwing glanced in the direction Hood had ran again, then back to them. Sam softened, a little, at the display of care, the air crackling with it.
“We’ll keep an eye out for him, and discuss the situation with our people.” She told him. “Don’t worry. We’ll find a way to help.”
“Thank you.” Nightwing said, voice cracking. Danny waited a moment, to see if any of them had anything else to say, then cloaked both his Griefmates in invisibility and intangibility in the same moment, moving to grab a more firm hold of Tucker and tightening his tail around Sam.
The Batman still wasn’t saying anything, wasn’t even moving, and Danny would’ve been more concerned if he’d had the room, but-
It had been a lot, and he was tired. More tired than he expected, just holding back the need to run away with Hood bundled between them.
And he still needed to call the Council, too, which was always going to be a nightmare.
A portal would have been too obvious, so Danny just flew straight up instead, pulling both his partners with him, and passed into the rock. From below them, there was a faint echo of something being thrown, and Nightwing’s voice shouting, “What the hell, B-?!” Danny winced a little and flew faster, all three of them keeping silent until they were well in the air- above the massive mansion above the Bat’s base, which was a wild thing even when they were used to the Mansons- and starting back towards the lights of the city.
“I’ll go and look for him.” Sam said, after a few minutes of flying. “I don’t- it’ll be hard, but I’ll be able to handle it.”
Danny would be the best to find Hood, with his ghost sense and the few powers the Crown granted him sometimes, but he was also the worst, because of his status as a halfa and Protection spirit. Tucker could probably do it just as well as Sam could, but his talents meant bunkering down with their computer setup and searching that way would be better than him looking in person.
So Danny just nodded. “Alright. Let’s go back to the apartment, first, and we’ll get one of the whistles out for you. I need to go to the Realms, so I won’t be able to make portals for you, but you can call Cujo to do it instead.”
“You think he’ll want to come to the Realms?”
Danny shrugged, a little. “Maybe. I think… he’s scared, probably. And I don’t think this place is safe for him.”
“The city or the dimension?”
“Not sure, yet. We’ll have to look into it more. But I don’t think it matters, whether it’s the city or the dimension. I don’t think this place is safe for him, and I think he might be scared. Admittedly he might be scared of us, which is bad, but I’m hoping he’ll let us try to help even if he is scared of us.”
“I’ll try to answer his questions, if he’s got any.” Sam frowned audibly, and both Danny and Tucker chuckled. They knew full well how difficult it was for Sam to tolerate people for any length of time, and explaining things was a nightmare for her if people didn’t listen, so hopefully Hood wouldn’t end up on the wrong end of her patience at all.
“Drop me off at the apartment too.” Tucker put in. “I’ll man the computers and see if I can find Hood anywhere on the cameras in the city.”
“Thanks, Tuck.” She smiled up at him. “I think I can guess where he went? But having some kind of eyes in the sky would be good.”
“You do?” Danny asked, looking down so he could raise an eyebrow at her. “How?”
“You know we thought there was a Haunt here?”
“Yeah, that Park Row place.” Danny nodded slowly, then paused. “Oh. You think that’s it?”
“I mean, it’d make sense, right? A ghost’s haunt always feels a little bit like them, and with Hood’s core as torn up as it is…”
Tucker nodded against Danny’s chest, humming. “Yeah, that would make sense. I didn’t think of that.”
“That’s what we’re for.”
“Ok, so Tucker back to the apartment, Sam to grab a whistle for Cujo and then out the door, and I’m off to the Realms.” Danny sighed a little. “Great. You guys get all the fun jobs. I get to enjoy fighting with the Council for like a week trying to make sure they don’t declare war or something while we’re still investigating. That’ll be just our luck.”
“Eh, I’m sure you can do it. They like you, after all.”
Danny just sighed again.
The rest of the trip back into the city and towards the apartment they’d rented wasn’t long or difficult, especially not when flying, and Danny easily phased through the window into the building proper. The second he let go of his Griefmates, they were off; Tucker went straight for the pile of tablets and PDAs and laptops that he’d built up, starting them up all at once with a push of power, while Sam went for the bedroom and their lockbox full of ghost stuff, coming back with a silver whistle that she tucked down the front of her dress so only the chain was showing.
“Want a lift?” He asked, and Sam laughed.
“No, I’ll be fine. Get moving, your Highness, you’ve got places to be.”
“Fiiiiiine.” Danny sighed again, flopping backwards dramatically just to see them laugh, and opened a portal to his Lair.
The feeling of being at home again settled over him like a weight, and he took a moment to shake himself out and settle into the feeling before starting to move.
Luckily, there were protocols and stuff for this kind of thing. And even more fortunately, Fright Knight was nearby and not roaming like he could have been. Danny barely got the doors open from his portal room into the main Lair before the Knight was there, hovering not far into the hall.
“Fright Knight.” Danny inclined his head, pulling at his core. The Ring and Crown formed with only a small amount of fuss- his living half causing them to complain, he knew- though he didn’t bother with any of the rest of the regalia he’d created in the past for situations like this. As strange as it sounded, this felt like something he had to approach more as Phantom, the Protection spirit and halfa, rather than the Ghost King, even though he knew he needed the Crown and Ring with him.
Instincts like that were strange, sometimes.
“Prince Phantom.” The Autumn spirit replied, saluting him. “Is something amiss?”
“We need to call the Council together, Fright.” He said, a small sigh. Him calling the Crown and Ring would have already started that process, with some of them, but not everyone was going to be in a position to notice that stuff, so it was better to tell Fright Knight so he could help get things going. “We’ve got a really bad situation in that world, and it’s going to need a lot of work.”
“How so, my Prince?” Fright Knight asked, even as his core flickered to call the various underghosts of the Lair to attention.
“The sort of thing where we might be declaring outright war on some people.” Danny told him, and watched the Fright Knight freeze.
“I see.”
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