#this is a little angst

[nelkcats]

Hood Assistant

Prompt Part 1 Part 3 Part 4 Next Ao3

Part 5

-----

It isn't what we say or think that defines us, but what we do

------------------

Jason couldn't help but feel a surge of protection towards the boy in his arms, he looked so fragile as he tried to stop himself from shivering and snuggled into his chest.

Even though he should feel uncomfortable since they had only met for a couple of days, he didn't push him away, on the contrary, he hid him. Maybe it was some kind of newfound instinct but he wasn't comfortable letting anyone see the cheerful boy in such a dull way, as if the world was trying to eat him up and Jason was his only refuge.

Strangely the pits began to respond to him, he could feel the fury running through his veins, but he wasn't trying to tear the boy to pieces as usual, it almost seemed like it was trying to protect him. His confusion lasted a couple of seconds before the world became clear to his eyes, everything became extremely dangerous, almost oppressive and he had to suppress a groan when he heard footsteps near his location.

Scarecrow had been distracted by the crow that kept leading him away from the alley by yelling and pecking, unlike his previous chatty self the little crow only said "Kar Kar Kar", in its own way the little bird knew the strange man was a threat and he was trying to protect his new family.

Although Jason couldn't see it, the shadows where they were began to darken, hiding them completely inside the alley, the only thing that could be seen with the naked eye were the bright toxic green eyes he was showing, which, instead of being obstructed by the gas mask, made a more ominous scene for the observer. Scarecrow felt a chill run down his spine as the temperature around him dropped but he brushed it off in favor of continuing to chase the troublesome bird.

—----------

On the other side of the city, inside the mansion the alarms from the Batcave were heard, something extremely rare at that time of day.

"Oracle to the Batcave, it's an emergency" was heard over all the communications.

Bruce quickly moved away from the press conference upon noticing the vibration in his watch, he used those seconds to ask what was happening, camouflaging the question as a cough; he didn't get very far before reporters surrounded him questioning if the millionaire had gotten sick after spending so much time renovating the community pool, he wasn't going anywhere anytime soon.

Tim was half asleep on his computer but the call jerked him up, he panicked realizing he had a meeting with Wayne Enterprises in an hour but concentrated on the information Babs was about to tell him, priorities (and a bit of responsibility dodging).

When they were going to the kitchen for a snack, two siblings noticed the alert, they rushed but after considering for a few seconds Cass pushed Dick down the stairs, Dick for his part did a somersault landing perfectly on the floor, his gymnastics skills weren't rusty at all.

"Smug" Steph complained from her place on the sofa, she had come to the mansion to visit Cass, but as was the unspoken rule: she had stayed a little longer.

"This is not the time for games, I need assistance in Crime Alley, Crane started his attack and Jason is compromised" Barbara said desperately over the comms, she needed help fast "Are you guys available?"

"It's 4pm, it's too early for the bats to come out" Steph yawned, she would have liked to go out and show off her status as the best member of the bats but her suit was at home, maybe she could find a spare on the batcave.

"And Gotham has never seen us fight during the day, well, most of us." Tim gave Duke a curious look after he had entered through the mansion gates.

"Oh no, you are not going to let me fight the madman alone" he frowned "I just came for my afternoon snack, I'll go back to my patrol after that"

"This is not the time to argue! I don't care if you paint your costume red or put on a clown nose, I need someone supporting Jason with Crane now" Barbara voiced with frustration in her voice "he has a civilian who succumbed to the fear gas and Scarecrow changed the formula, this is urgent"

"Well, I guess the bats will be out early today, it'll be a scary day" Dick joked, although he didn't feel so amused after hearing about his brother's situation.

"I can help with the formula from the cave, I'm not as good with the Batcomputer as Tim but I can do it" Steph affirmed, even if Spoiler didn't go out on the streets she was going to find a way to help.

"Why? I can manage the computer from here while you go out on the field, Scarecrow's greatest strength is his formula so bats with masks integrated into the suit should be a better option" he stated confidently.

"Master Timothy, I hope you're not planning on skipping your 5 o'clock meeting." Alfred scolded the boy gently from behind.

"There's no time for meetings Alfie, Damian's at school and I can handle the computer better anyway" he smiled.

"No, we are enough bats, you can go to your meeting and Steph can handle the computer in the same way as you, the important thing is to get to Jay, this is not up for discussion" Dick spoke while frowning slightly, perhaps it was his concern as an older brother but he couldn't help but want to get to the place as soon as possible. Tim couldn't help but sigh at the tone and gave up on attending the absurd income meeting.

"Civilian, danger" Cass pointed out worriedly, the real issue wasn't saving Jason in this case.

"Yeah, I don't know how Jay ended up with a civilian but we have to get him out of there" Dick nodded "however, it's true that we can't go out that openly in the daytime, Duke do you think you can do something with that?"

"I can hide you," the latest addition to Bruce's adoption papers grumbled, "and focus on the crazy man while Jason is brought out."

"That will do" Barbara spoke a little more relieved "my break is about to end so I won't be able to help in such a direct way, but I will do my best"

"Okay, Orphan and Signal, it's time for the daytime operation" Dick spoke taking temporary leadership of the mission, he ignored the grunts of his siblings at the name "Spoiler, we'll be counting on you"

With that said, everyone went to the cave to take their respective suits; Except for Steph, who didn't really see the need to do it, and even if she was risking Bruce's wrath over the secret identities, she'd figure it out later, she was sure there wasn't much he could do considering she wasn't actually legally adopted, that would be a problem for her future self.

"It's a shame Jarro can't accompany us" Steph joked "seeing that he's in space and everything"

The other bats seemed distracted, from Dick she could understand it but she didn't know what Cass and Duke were thinking, the civilian? It was likely, she really hoped "the rescue" would go well.

—-------

Danny was scared, once the gas got into his system it didn't affect him like it would do on a human or one of the crows as it was originally intended to.

Hallucinations began to appear before his eyes, confusing themselves with memories, and his ghostly characteristics were more present than ever.

The only thing saving him from a complete transformation was Jason. He could feel Jason's gentle touch hiding him from the world, nestling his head on his chest.

Danny kept trying by all possible means to contain everything that could scare someone; He bit his lip, ignoring the sensation of his fangs gently piercing his skin.

Too ghostly for humans

Spectra's voice was heard perfectly in his head. Though years had passed since that incident, it had lingered within his memory, Jazz would have called it trauma, he wasn't so sure.

What are you?

He wanted to scream as the multiple times being called a monster or a threat played through his head. Until now he had no correct answer to that question, not since he was named a "True halfa" and Clockwork informed him that Plasmius was slowly dying.

Are you dead? That is cool! How did you die? Maybe you're a corpse and not a ghost, or a ghost zombie!

The innocent comment of a little boy brought him to tears, it was absurd. The "hero" Phantom had run away at that moment, he knew there was no way the boy would know that the memory affected him, that he could feel the flashes of electricity under his skin. Remembering the pain and the impotence, that didn't make it any better.

He remembered the nights he'd spent awake wondering if the accident had killed him, if he was really a ghost possessing his own corpse and was just prolonging the inevitable.

We don't need you! You are a threat!

Was there anything worse for a child than being rejected by his parents? Every time Danny heard Dr. Fentons yelling at him, whether they intended it or not, he felt the same way. If they told Phantom he wasn't necessary, Danny was the one listening to his parents, when Danny was shot, because they did not bother to repair the guns in his house so they wouldn't be pointed at him, he felt unimportant. What's the point of being showered with loving words while being stabbed through the heart?

You should leave the city

The only comment he pondered for hours. More than harming him, that random person made him understand that maybe Amity Park couldn't be his home anymore, maybe it was time to move on and stop being just Danny the Fenton creep or Phantom the hated hero. Perhaps it was selfish to want to be both.

Why do you always seek attention? We do not want you here and we will not fall for your games!

One of Dr. Fenton's comments flashed through his head, and Danny couldn't help but laugh as he sobbed into Jay's shirt, probably looking as pathetic as he felt. He hated the attention, he hated it so much.

"I didn't want to be a hero" he murmured, although his words were hardly understandable at that moment "I didn't want, I wanted to live, why did it have to be me? Why did they force me to protect them?"

Danny continued to babble on in frustration, the only reason he kept acting like the hero was because of Sam and Tucker, but he always thought it was unfair. Why did the whole town expect a dead child to protect them? Why were they not doing anything when they saw him bleeding ectoplasm in the middle of the street? Why didn't they stop the Fentons when they were developing dangerous weapons or talking about skinning him alive?

When did the living stop caring about the dead? Despite all that he did for the city, very few took into account that he was still a child, a child with too much responsibility, a child too wounded, who continued to heal others.

The situation was absurd. How many more times would he have to pick up his broken heart, praying that it could stick again even if they stole pieces? How much more could he ignore how the city never offered to give him a proper resting place?

He recalled a time as Phantom, in one of his weak moments remarking to a reporter that he never had a grave or proper rest. The rumor spread but apart from Mr. Lancer and some classmates giving him flowers, nobody did anything.

It was stupid really, but ghosts needed graves, graves were symbolic to them, it meant you died but you were loved. That no one noticed his death, the fact no one mourned him, had always felt like a void inside his soul. A void begging for affection.

But what was he supposed to do? Ask Jazz, who had her own coping methods, to lay a grave for his half-alive brother? Did he have to remind his best friends that the portal killed him? Perhaps it did it wrong, or halfway, but he died, undoubtedly.

Sam and Tucker liked to ignore the fact that his friend had come in screaming and came out in ashes. They saw it as a setback, and Danny understood, he wasn't going to spiral them into guilt just to make himself feel better, it was unfair.

"Will you leave me too?" He questioned raising his bright eyes to look at Jason "Are you going to break my heart? I'm warning you: I don't know if I can keep fixing it"

Jason gasped at the blue-green look in the boy's eyes, he could feel the anticipation, the way he was waiting for a positive answer. And he realized that no one had the right to destroy a person that much, because he had a feeling that Danny hadn't done that to himself.

But he could see the signs, he could see how this boy with teary eyes and fear of rejection was the same boy who had walked in without a care in the world to serve a bowl of soup to orphaned children, he could see how he needed approval, positive affection; And that maybe hit a little too close to home, because he knew he wasn't the one to give him those things.

"I won't leave you alone" he chose to reply "but you shouldn't offer your heart to strangers so easily Doll"

"It's funny that you say that" the halfa commented sadly "because you're not a stranger, honestly I gave it to so many people that I don't know how much is left of it, I'm sorry if I'm defective"

"No." Jason's grunt startled Danny, who turned to look at him in alarm.

"No?" He asked confused, for some reason Jason's neon green eyes sent him a sense of security, something inside him screaming protected, safe. To the point where he didn't actually wonder if his eyes weren't a different color earlier.

"No, people are not defective because they are not objects" although he was wearing the gas mask it was obvious that he was frowning "I don't care how many stupid things people told you, you are not defective, you are just human and if you have the nerve to say i'm worth it, I can give you back the same fucking feeling, you cute motherfucker"

"Does that mean you don't want it?" The boy asked instead. He didn't want to have another existential crisis over his humanity when he was barely conscious with the effects of the gas, he felt so drugged. Though his heart definitely sped up at the other's words, did Jason believe he was worth it? he'd have to talk to Johnny about it later, and yell for a while, if he was lucky enough to remember.

"Although I'd love to have it, I'd like you to save it for someone who can take better care of it" Jason spoke, noting that the boy wasn't concentrating on the positive things "you're not in the right state of mind right now Doll, don't do things you'll doubt later"

"But I-"

Their conversation was interrupted when they heard voices in the distance. Jason got back into a defensive position as Danny hid in his chest again, barely controlling the memories that threatened to flash before his eyes. He couldn't succumb again, he had to remember: Jason was safe, Jason was safe.

—--------

The moment Duke arrived on the scene he felt a chill run down his spine, the light and darkness in that whole part of town just felt incorrect, and a feeling of wrongness ran through his body.

"I didn't know it was getting cold in Gotham," Dick complained as he rubbed his arms in an attempt to keep himself warm. He momentarily wondered if Crane was working with Freeze.

"Focus, mission, find brother " Cass motioned to both of them, putting on the gas mask and adjusting it correctly around her face; the language was still a bit confusing for Cass, she was used to having her intentions read through their fights so expressing it in words was always tedious. That's why she usually chose to speak in shorter sentences, to the point instead of winding around, a bit the opposite of her older brother in a certain way.

"You're right, we're getting closer to the place marked by Oracle" Dick nodded as he headed into one of the alleys, both he and Signal had their gas masks on. It was then that he heard noises near one of the alleys.

He leaned out to see the cause of all the fuss and saw how his route was divided in two, on the one hand Cane was fighting with a crow? On the side of the road, looking completely exasperated and furious, Dick honestly took pity on the animal.

On the other side shadows seemed to be covering the alley, although it was hard to see through the smoke, Dick could make out a familiar figure, who had completely toxic green eyes and was snarling at him, yeah, that could be a problem.

"I found Jay" he commented unsure, it was always risky to approach his little brother when he was affected by the pits. He honestly listened to his warnings more as a way to reassure his brother that he was safe, he wasn't afraid of him at all, no matter how much Bruce seemed to think Jason was a mindless being during the episodes.

Dick saw it from a different perspective, Jason "Pitter" Todd was a more primitive form (and Jay absolutely hated the pun Dick created, he repeated the word Peter at least eighty times before giving up), but he retained his consciousness, he didn't instantly turned into a mindless being who went for blood and guts, he was more of a very aggressive person who put instincts as the first priority, being very prone to acting out. Still, definitely Jason.

"We have a problem, Cass come with me and help me determine Jay's condition, Duke take care of Crane" Dick ordered over the comms, to deal with "Pitter" it was better to have Cass on his side, although he was considered more expressive, she was considerably better in reading emotions.

"Oh come on, I said I wasn't going to face the madman alone." Signal frowned, although he was relieved not to have to go near the glowing black hole he could see from where Jason stood, no, he'd heard enough warnings to know it was a bad idea.

"Dayshift" Dick sneered from the comms "we can't be as seen as you can, at least the alley can cover us but we cant help it”

Duke still grumbled as he walked to the opposite side of the strange shadows, where Crane could be seen frustrated with a small crow.

"Are you serious?" Duke questioned in disbelief as he watched the little bird beating one of Gotham's worst villains just by pestering him to death.

"What's next, an army?"  He asked mockingly, however he swallowed his words at the moment when he heard a "Kar" above his head, he looked up and felt hundreds of red eyes watching from the beams of the electrical cables "yes, excellent, an army of crows, exactly what we need for a Scarecrow"

"Kar, Kar, Kar" several of the crows began to sing, for a moment he wondered what they were doing until he turned his gaze to Crane, who was covering his suit as the crow pecked at him.

The little crow moved away from Crane to quickly fly with the others and as if he were a general in a speech he spoke "Kar, sacrifice, Kar", the crow flapped his wings looking determined.

Duke was genuinely concerned about what the crows were learning in Gotham, who had taught them the word sacrifice? And why were they so scary?

"You won't be able to beat me, aerial beasts!" Scarecrow yelled furiously, firing more of the gas. The birds were not affected as they only flew a little higher. Some of them looked genuinely murderous, though, so the gas might have caused a reaction in them.

"Sacrifice, sacrifice, sacrifice" the crows began to sing in unison, Duke felt that he had become a spectator in a horror movie.

"Really, what the hell?" Duke questioned in dismay, he was supposed to write this on the report, dammit.

He moved a little out of the way when he saw the crows preparing to fly toward Crane. He knew what his battles were and this was not one of them.

Almost to confirm his point, hundreds of crows swooped down on Crane at once, pecking and effectively trapping him in one of the alley corners. When they finished him off, the villain had minor injuries all over his body and was surprisingly unconscious. Duke was internally grateful that Crane used so much protection or maybe they would have gouged out his eyes, crows were scary.

"Love, love, love" the little crow repeated happily, his attitude had changed the moment they defeated the villain but Duke had learned not to trust the little creature, small and terrifying.

"Yeah, thanks for doing my job for me, I think" Signal wasn't sure how he was supposed to react to the current situation "at least I didn't do it alone, I guess"

Almost as a signal, the crows withdrew and the scary little buddy made its way to the alley where Dick and Cass were possibly standing, well, that was no longer his problem.

His day shift was officially over, better turn Scarecrow over to the police, he would have to tell Bruce to control Arkham in case he tried to escape again. But his current priority was the pancakes Alfred had in the fridge, without a doubt.

He collected a sample of Crane's gas as he returned, he was sure there would be a couple of casualties by the end of the day so it was best to give Steph a sample when he got to the mansion. Also because of the aggressiveness of the crows, he could add some negative side effects to the birds as a consequence for the new fear gas formula, honestly Duke didn't feel like dealing with bloodier crows than normal.

—--------

"Scared, out of it, protective" Cass informed Dick as soon as he was a few feet away from where Jason seemed to be snarling at him in full rage, although he wasn't quite sure as the mask muffled the noise. This reaction was a bit more intense than he had expected at first, but he still felt that he could deal with it.

"It's fine Little Wing, it's me" Dick held up both hands, a sign that he was obviously unarmed, it was better to treat Jay the way Damian treated the feral cats at the animal shelter. Not that he was going to tell Jay that, ever.

"It took you long enough, bastard" he answered annoyed, but still not loosening his grip on Danny, who seemed to be shaking more the more people got closer, how did he know? One more mystery among many.

"Yeah, sorry, we were a bit busy when the alert came in" Dick sighed "now, if you can hand me the civilian"

"No" was the quick answer.

"No, don't leave me, no," Danny muttered, clinging closer to Jason's shirt, barely understanding what was going on in the conversation beyond a few sentences. He was wondering if he should buy Jay a new shirt, his brain felt so tired all of a sudden.

"Alert, danger, stay away" Cass signed from next to him, it was obvious that neither of them wanted to get away. Although strangely, Cass felt more aggressiveness from the civilian than from Jason himself at the suggestion.

The temperature dropped again, but most of them didn't notice, Dick sighed looking at Jay with a frown "What do you expect us to do Jay? Signal registered taking Scarecrow a few seconds ago"

"Go with him" Jason grumbled, if there was no danger, better, he could get out of the toxic air and take Danny away from there.

"Come on Little Wing, you know I can't leave you in this state" Nightwing denied, just as stubborn as his brother "What are you going to do when I'm gone?"

"Take Danny home" he replied, although the green in his eyes didn't shine as brightly, he still looked quite alert about the whole situation, any wrong move could bring the pits back to full.

"I assume you know the civilian" Dick muttered curiously "Okay but I'm still going to help you, where does Danny live?"

Although the question was said in a friendly tone, the silence that followed was definitely awkward, Jason couldn't help but thank the gas mask, at least that way they couldn't see the embarrassed blush spreading all over his face. He was purposely ignoring that Cass would know for sure, she wasn't a snitch

"You don't know where he lives, right?" Dick asked, knowing that kind of silence all too well.

"It's none of your business," Jason complained, although the friendly interaction seemed to be taking him out of his fury.

"That's my business, where are you hoping to take him? One of your safe houses?" He teased, though his brother's silence was definitely revealing "wait, you're not being serious, are you sure you didn't inhale some gas?"

"I'm sure Big Bird, so shut up, go help with the damn antidote and call me when it's ready," Jason said annoyed, carefully getting up from where he had lain down to give Danny more comfort and starting to walk away from them.

"Not a good time, let it go" Cass signed to her older brother, she detected a lot with that little interaction and thought that the explanation required a complicated sentence to clarify.

"I understand Cass, I'm just worried" Nightwing sighed sadly, he wasn't looking forward to telling B anything.

"Understandable" Cass nodded. It was normal that after bringing Jason back, his "old" family would become attached to him, that could be bad in the long run if Jay refused to clarify things, but it was none of Cass's business. Even if she loved her family, she couldn't express feelings for them, it was better to let them figure it out.

No one noticed Shadow leaning out curiously and watching Jason take Danny away before deciding to disappear, taking the darkness that had settled in the alley with them.

—-----

"Amorpho, I need a favor" Johnny called the ghost through his ghost phone, he wasn't going to call it Fenton phone 2.0 because Technus would be extremely offended.

"Not even a hello? Why should I listen to you?" Amorpho questioned curiously from the other side of the line.

"You can pretend to be Danny and visit the human world" the blonde ghost bribed.

"Tempting, tell me more about this favor" Amorpho said, it was not a secret that he enjoyed imitating the halfa.

"Well, the boy has to attend classes, but his crush apparently kidnapped him and he can't" Johnny explained quickly, he had been worried for a few seconds but Shadow assured him that the halfa wasn't in danger. However Johnny remembered Danny's insistence on his attendance.

"You want me to pretend to be him and attend classes?" Amorpho questioned in disbelief, he had better things to do with his time "And what do you mean with kidnapped?"

"That doesn't matter, but yes, If you accept you can do whatever you want as long as nobody dies after it" Johnny assured, Danny owed him a favor for all the work.

"Whatever I want? Okay, you have a deal" Amorpho agreed, though he still had questions about the kidnapping part.

"Great! I will call Wulf to open the portal to the university, your first class is advanced physics, good luck! Don't forget that you already accepted!" The blond hung up the call before the other ghost could react.

"You mean right now? What the hell is advanced physics? JOHNNY-" By the time the ghost reacted it was too late.

"I think that went well" The blond smiled.

—------

For his part, Jason was grateful to his siblings for being on time. He hated the situation he had inadvertently gotten himself into, but he hated more that Danny was sacrificing himself like it didn't matter. How dare he? He was going to smack the bastard with self-esteem even if he forced it.

He couldn't show it correctly because his head was still filled with that need for PROTECTION before the boy he had in his arms. Jason sighed, deciding to carry him in his arms princess style. Personally he preferred the potato bag style on his shoulder but Danny had been very displeased at the suggestion to get off his chest. Which shouldn't embarrass him nearly as much as it did.

Danny felt calm listening to Jason's heartbeat, it relaxed him as the illusions momentarily disappeared from his head. Jason was the solid ground of him, corny as it sounded.

"I want you to know that this is your fault" he claimed to the boy in his arms as he threw the gas mask to the side of the room once he got to the safe house "but since I don't know where the hell you live you're going to stay here until the antidote is ready"

Jason tried to separate Danny from him then, but every time the boy went more than 5 minutes without finding him he would start to panic and show obvious signs of Scarecrow's hallucinations. Jay was undoubtedly upset to see the bubbly boy turned into a dependent anxiety bag.

Curiously, from the bedroom window a crow could be seen sleeping peacefully, although no one was paying attention to it, the bird looked happy with that arrangement, without noticing the intruder, the boys continued talking.

"Okay Doll, you win, I'll sleep here tonight" Jason finally relented "but we should wake up early tomorrow for a nice breakfast, okay?"

Danny nodded, feeling better now that both of them were in bed and he could hear the boy's heartbeat again. He wriggled in an attempt to get into Jason's arms, where he felt safe and warm.

"You're really persistent" Jay complained, but he let him do what he wanted anyway "What's wrong cutie?"

"I didn't want you to go away in the middle of the night," Danny murmured looking worried, Jason swore he saw one of his eyes being more of a greenish blue for a few seconds, he wondered if he was seeing things "Are you leaving?"

"No, for now I do not intend to do it" the man sighed, wondering if he should add eye color to the long list to investigate "rest, I promise I'll be here in case someone bad comes, okay?"

"Okay" with one last sleepy yawn Danny settled back to listen to the heartbeat of his love interest "I hope Hood doesn't get mad at me"

"He won't find out," Jason teased, feeling a little amused "and if he does he'll have to get over it."

Stroking the boy's hair as he slept, Jason noticed a few familiar white strands tucked strategically behind the black hair. It gave him a bad feeling.

He decided to address his suspicions at another time, when memories of Danny forcing himself not to shake wouldn't flicker in his mind, when the expressive blue eyes didn't look so empty and sad inside his memories, and the sound of his laughter wouldn't change to sobs inside his mind.

Jason knew trauma well, and he wasn't overly happy to admit he recognized Danny having one. He ran his fingers gently over the boy's hand, Danny obviously hurt himself to stop the fear if the marks were a sign. He wondered why only one of his hands was hurt, but when he caught a glimpse of a large scar he decided not to push his luck so much. He needed to learn to wait, and maybe trust Danny a little bit, just a little bit.

I'm going to show you that you're worth it Cutie Doll, even if it takes me all my life.

--------------------------------------

Aaand tag time, but first a little clarification: Crane's fear gas was destined to kill the crows after a time to take the gas in their bodies (as an infection) but since it was a prototype, it failed, the crows only became more aggressive; Anyway, the fear gas was destined to affect humans too, this part was a success, except that Danny is not completely human, right? double ups.

The effect worked halfway into him, causing hallucinations but of memories he fears, he is able to resist it if he focuses on something that anchors him to reality (but he is very tired of the mental effort); That is why sometimes he seems lucid and sometimes not, he is a very drugged and sensitive halfa!

@skulld3mort-1fan@sorryiwonnoob@idfk-man10@avelnfear@criticaloverthinker@confusedandghostly @lunadoll36 @spidey29phangirl @suppengott @yjfk@apointlessbox@mimilikey@thegatorsgoose@jaggedheart11@dyinggirldied@pyramaniac@akikkobara@thedragonqueen1998@lostlightandfoundcrazy@xye-chan@saltyladynightmare @ashleysmshly @thewondersoflebanon@illusionwolfwriter24r8@littlefeather345@asphyxia778@amercurio@leftmiraclechaos @dixiwoods @satoshy12@lyra689@meira-3919@quietlyscared@plotwholls @kyrianclawraith @blacksea21090@basilf1res @flowers-n-fauna @8-29pm@phantom-dc@luer-mirin@taniaundertaleau@cloriform@readerkayden@oddlydrawnpuppets@basementloser@little-green-asparagus@echoednonny@yummy-yummy-mmmbones@confusionchaos@ectoplasm024@autumnwulf@666deaddash999@redhoneysugarorange@blue-avis@sailor-goddess@satanicrutialspecialist

#danny phantom #dp x dc #danny fenton #dc x dp #jason todd #dead on main #jason todd x danny fenton #Hood Assistant #Crows won another time #sorry Crane #Poe the crow will continue following them #this is a little angst #but after this is all hurt/comfort #Jason wants to return the favor #If Danny can't see his own worth he will show him #Danny is a little sad here cause of the memories #Don't worry #he will get better #surprised that I didn't write more about Johnny this time #Johnny thinks he is a solver maker #he is not #he is causing problems accidentally #First Danny and the Bats interaction #I'm not sure if it counts cause he was extremely drugged tho #Jason is starting to believe a little on Danny #Danny will totally remember the Hood part tho #Still they are both helping each other with trauma and that's amazing #Duke had nightmares with crows that day

[ato-dato]

Piss off!!! Thanks!!!!!!!!!! :)))))

#bookstore-sitting is a very hard job #you wouldn’t understand #anyway #we interrupt your usual funny programme for a little bit of angst #but we’ll be back shortly #aziraphale #aziracrow #ineffable husbands #aziraphale x crowley #crowley #muriel #good omens muriel #good omens season two #good omens #good omens spoilers #good omens fanart #good omens s2 #art #artwork #my art #fanart #digital art #drawing #comic #fan comic

[chloesimaginationthings]

Pomni and Gummigoo reunite in TADC!

#myart #chloesimagination #comic #tadc #tadc pomni #gummigoo #pomni #digital circus #the amazing digital circus #tadc spoilers #tadc fanart #I would like to formally apologize to Pomni #I actually don’t think Gummigoo is dead #especially with Ragatha mentioned Caine reuses NPCs #but I also don’t think it’s the same Gummigoo or he doesn’t remember her #so gonna be so sad if they do meet again and Gummigoo just doesn’t recognize Pomni #Been awhile since I’ve done angst but I saw this comic so clearly I HAD to draw it #sorry to TADC fans 🩵 #IDK if I’ll do mor stand alone TADC content but we’ll see 🙏🏾 #my poor little heart won’t be able to take it if this happens BAHA

[bats-and-the-birds]

There are a lot of fics about the Justice League finding out about Batman's children via a series of circumstances leading to Nightwing joining the League (usually against Batman's will)

and I LOVE this trope, don't get me wrong, but I'd like to imagine a situation where it doesn't happen like that. I want a situation where Nightwing joins the League, but he and Batman play it off well enough that the JL doesn't put them together. They notice that they work well together, sure, and Batman seems to trust Nightwing easier than the other new members, but no one questions it because Nightwing is good.

And the JL reaches a point where it's been months or even years and they still don't know.

Until Nightwing gets hurt. They've seen him hurt before, but he gets hurt. Bleeding out, affected by fear toxin, whatever, the point is, he's in bad shape. And Nightwing - strong, crooked grin, happy facade - screams. He screams for his dad - a word that he never uses, but that doesn't matter now, because he's scared, and he's hurt, and he just wants to go home.

And nobody knows what to do. Every single League member very quickly realizes that they know nothing about this guy. Everyone wonders about Batman because he seems so mysterious, but Nightwing always seemed so open, and it's only in that moment that they realize they have no actual information on him.

But that only last for a split second, because, of course Batman reacts first. He runs to his side and starts to stabilize his injuries while assuring him in a voice that they've never heard before, a voice that is distinctly not his Batman growl, that he's right there and it's all going to be okay.

And Nightwing... well, he stops calling out for his father. And he doesn't stay in the watchtower infirmary after that. When they ask Batman where he took him, he just tells them home.

Nightwing's back a few months later, and that's when they start asking him if he's really Batman's kid, and he just smiles the same crooked grin and says, Of course. You didn't know?

#batman #comics #dc comics #dick grayson #bruce wayne #nightwing #justice league #justice league headcanon #batman headcanon #batfamily #a little angst

[musenilla]

'Always an angel, never a god.' -

Princess Luna my belovedddd. 'Not Strong Enough' is VERY Celestia/Luna coded you can't convince me otherwise. + enjoy some cute extra LunaxTempest art dump to soothe from the Luna angst. I would loveee to info dump my headcanons for Luna but its 5 am rn and I cant type any furtherehf

#my little pony #my litte pony friendship is magic #mlp #mlp fim #mlp fanart #mlp friendship is magic #mlp art #princess celestia #princess luna #tempest shadow #nightmare moon #alicorn #unicorn #mlp tempest shadow #mlp luna #comic #art dump #fanart #digital art #angst #clip studio paint #boygenius

[pawthko]

always just beyond my reach

#totk #tears of the kingdom #totk spoilers #totk fanart #botw #breath of the wild #botw fanart #princess zelda #totk zelda #totk link #botw link #tloz #zelink #my art #releases a little more wife angst #i THINK ive gotten it out of my system now...

[biggest-gaudiest-patronuses]

i vote that next year instead of reading Dracula we do a Jeeves & Wooster Book Club. those two never got the rabid tumblr shipping fandom they deserved (disqualified for the sheer technicality of being published a century too soon). we must correct this injustice

#jeeves and wooster #i want to watch tumblr go rabid i want to watch ao3 overflow with jeeves/wooster fanfiction #yes obviously the fandom EXISTS but it's a cozy little neighborhood #a handful of talented artists and writers doing their best to keep their charming little village going #but i'm tired of cozy i want this fandom TRENDING #I WANT TO SEE THIS ON MY DASHBOARD PEOPLE #i swear to you if they made a shiny new tv series tumblr would absolutely obsess over these characters. good omens levels of obsession #it's just such a great dynamic! the good-natured overly-trusting bumbling idiot in constant need of rescuing! #the stoic all-knowing genius who quietly masterminds mayhem in order to protect this one moron he's devoted himself to for some reason #jeeves as a morosexual is just such a beautiful interpretation of the original text #wooster as a happy-go-lucky himbo who stumbles his way into a relationship with a protective caring and supremely competent mastermind #the angst and social complexities of a same-sex cross-class relationship in turn-of-the century london! #oh AND half the stories are about jeeves helping wooster get out of engagements/desperately avoid marriage #two men who live together constantly scheming to maintain their bachelorhood. this is quite literally the main plot point #the gay subtext is there! the gay subtext is there and very ripe for picking!!! #this thing is LOCKED AND LOADED we can pounce literally any time

[hyenaa-euphoria]

hope 1/???

more angst!! i am actually building an au around this comic but I’ve never done aus before so like this is new to me!!!

#catnap #dogday #poppy playtime #poppy playtime 3 #NOT SHIP ART!! #art #fanart #deep sleep #au #okay maybe ive tried to make an au before but it was like an undertale au with no thought process behind it i just thought the name of #the au would’ve been cool #anyways #muahahahahah #angst #maybe #comic #yeah #i always forget that one #dogday is having a bad hair day #poor guy #and catnap is just devoted man he wants freedom #who wouldnt #actually #and some of the little critters bit some of his ear off #just because #man those little things are like parasites

[majunju]

[right to left] hypnosis

#genshin impact #my art #sorry for the long post idk how i managed to push out 9 pages in like. 2 days im feeling a little insane atm #anyways. lynlumi [cheering] lumine angst [cheering] having to draw the concept [booing]

[canisalbus]

Imagine if Machete and Vasco were dragons, but there was more lore behind it:

Machete being taken from their nest after their mother was killed, and “raised” by the church. He was beaten, humiliated and starved, described to the common folk as “a hideous creature” or a “spawn of the devil”.

One day, Vasco, a gold colored dragon finds Machete, and with his help, he breaks Machete out, and frees him.

They now live in a forested cave, far away from the reach of the cruel hand of man.

#own art #own characters #CanisAlbus #art #artists on tumblr #Vasco #Machete #dragons #plusultrayokai #laying that angst a little heavy but sorry I couldn't resist #dragon forms designed by puddleorganism

[starry-bi-sky]

There are two things that Damian knows that he knows Father doesn’t.

He has an older brother

He was dead

(And a secret third thing: Damian was glad he was dead. They did not get along.)

Well. No, correction, they were two things that Damian knew that Father didn't. Past tense. Strange magic swirled through the air and created a mirage before his eyes, and immediately a scowl forms across his face.

The mirage shifts and shimmers like the light hitting a slowly turning prism, and then it settles into a memory. One that Damian does not recall. Like looking into a tv screen, it shows, faintly, a room, with most of the magic going into the image of a crib.

His mother was standing on one side, and next to her, standing on his tiptoes was a small five year old boy looking up at her. With dark hair and skin that was only few shades lighter brown than Damian's, the little boy's resemblance to Damian was undeniable.

However, his eyes were blue. Not green. Damian's scowl deepens, and he sinks back. "Danyal." He mutters, and feels eyes turn on to him.

Danyal Al Ghul. Damian's older brother. A prodigal swordsman like Damian, and five years his senior. He'd be fifteen if he was still alive. His memory of the last time he saw his brother was still clear in his mind.

(A sword to Danyal's neck. Stars were glittering through his window. Damian was five, Danyal ten. He is not sure why Danyal had snuck into his room, all he remembers is hearing a sound and on instinct reaching for his sword.)

(His brother had intercepted easily. But had not shoved the sword away. Moonlight hit his blue eyes, and Damian remembers seeing the pupils shrink to let the light in. His eyes looked almost silver.)

(His brother bares his teeth at him. Damian wants to slice his neck more than anything, and he bares his teeth back. "Good." Danyal says, his voice low in a hiss, "Your reflexes are good, little brother.")

("Of course they are," Damian remembers snarling, and presses the sword closer. But it does not budge. "I am an Al Ghul.")

(Something unrecognizable passes through his brother's eyes, and his mouth twists into something like a smile. "I know." He says, and tilts his head downwards at him. "And you will be great.")

(His brother shoves the sword back, causing Damian to stumble. And like the wind, he is gone.)

(The next morning, he goes on a mission with mother and a few others. Mother is the only one to return with Danyal's sword, and a red-eyed look in her eyes. Damian does not mourn. Now there's only one of them.)

"Momma." The little Danyal-mirage speaks, a furrow between his childlike brows as mother lowers a bundle into the crib. His blue eyes watch her, and lifts onto his toes to peer into the crib as she sets the baby down. "Who is this?"

Their mother's hand comes to rest along his back. "This is Damian, my son." She murmurs, voice low. "He is your little brother. Protect him well."

Damian scoffs internally -- not likely. He remembers every spar he ever had with Danyal, every harsh word and insult. His pushing, pushing, pushing for Damian to get up. To try again. Do it again. The only kindness he ever showed him was when his fingers bled. And even that was harsh, firm. Rolling gauze around his wrist and scolding him, telling him how to wield his weapon better.

(It was the same as everyone else, but somehow it hurt worse coming from his own brother.)

But he watches his older brother's youngest self tilt his head to the side, and then reach his chubby hand through the crib's bars. He runs small, blunt fingers over the baby's arm, and the baby jerks. Through the crib's bars, Damian sees himself grab Danyal's fingers.

And he scowls even deeper.

And Danyal's eyes... widen. He lets out a little gasp, and a small smile Damian's never seen him wear tilts at the corner of his mouth as he looks up at their mother. "Mother," he whispers, "he grabbed me!"

Damian... his scowl falters, for a moment.

He doesn't wait for a response, he looks back to the baby with sparking eyes. His expression melts like sugar as he bounces the finger being gripped tight by the small hand. "Hello, little brother." His brother says, voice its of usual firmness, but there's more fondness underlying it than Damian's ever heard. "My name is Danyal."

The mirage shifts before Damian can comprehend his older brother's voice. It shows the crib again, appearing as if a few days had passed. There is night lilting through the nearby window, and a creek of the door. The baby doesn't stir.

Danyal sneaks in, still wearing his training clothes and a sword strapped to his side. Damian's scowl returns, watching him creep over to the crib. Of course -- the last night he saw his brother wasn't the only time he'd snuck into his room.

Would he go so low as to attack an infant? Damian wonders, watching his brother cross the room to his crib. But while his fingers rest against the hilt, they never curl to unsheathe.

His brother peers into the crib again, and there it is again, that smile wider in the corner of his mouth. It's not a full one, but its as uninhibited as it gets. Dripping honey-sweet with awe. "You are so tiny." Danyal whispers, and pokes a finger back through the crib. It wriggles, then pokes Damian's cheek gently. "Was I as small as you when mother gave birth to me?"

There is no response from the baby. Not a coherent one anyways, the little thing snuffles and turns his head, mouth open to latch. Danyal stills, his eyes grow ever wider again.

Danyal says nothing else, just rests his cheek against the crib and watches the baby sleep in silence. The affection never leaves his young face.

Damian feels unsettled. Off-foot. This Danyal is foreign to him... He wonders what happened to have changed his brother's mind on him.

There's a scuffle, quiet, but there. Danyal picks up on it just as Damian does, and his head pricks up like a deer, head already turning away from the crib. The affection leaves his face, falling away like water into something serious. His blade is already slightly unsheathed.

Two assassins, belonging to grandfather, burst out of the shadows. Their swords swinging into the air and ready to strike.

Danyal kills them both, his back to the crib. It's not without struggle, and when the two assassins lay dead on the floor, the baby is wailing at the top of his lungs. Danyal has a laceration cleaving down diagonal of his cheek. It's close to his eye, just barely missed blinding him.

Damian never knew how he got that scar. He does now. (He doesn't know how to feel about it.)

His brother clutches his bleeding face, sheathing his sword as tears well up onto his face. But he turns towards the crib, and hurries over. "You're okay, you're okay, you're okay." He hushes rapidly, the League-drilled seriousness fallen away to reveal a panic-stricken five year old. He sticks one hand into the crib, the one not clutching anything, and grabs little Damian's hand.

Their mother comes bursting in that moment, and Danyal turns his head towards her. "Mother." He says, his voice cracks un-wantingly. Their mother steps over the bodies of the assassins easily. "They tried to kill Damian."

"But they did not." Talias says, kneeling down next to the crib to inspect Danyal's face and Damian's well-being. When she finds nothing of concern beyond the injury, she continues. "You killed them before they could, Danyal. Well done."

The mirage of his brother nods, his eyes teary and red.

Damian... is discomfited. he never thought Danyal would kill assassins for him. He would have thought his brother would sooner look the other way. The mirage shifts again, and it quickly shows time passing.

Danyal sits in Damian's nursery every night, after that. He lays at the foot of the crib with his sword, a pillow and a blanket with him. Some nights there is nothing but peace -- or as close to peace as a baby could achieve -- and some days assassins break in.

Danyal kills each one.

The mirage shifts again, and it shows more memories of Danyal interacting with Damian during his youth too young for him to remember. His first steps, his first words.

"Danya." The small toddler of Damian says, arms reaching for Danyal.

A frown curls across Danyal's face, and pulls Damian into his lap. "No, no, little brother." He scolds, voice firm but.. softer. "It is Danyal, Damian. Danyal."

"Danya!"

Damian's brother sighs, but there is that same-small tilt at the corner of his mouth. A glimmer in his eyes. A glimmer... that Damian is finding he recognizes.

(He always thought his brother got that look in his eyes when he was mocking him. Was he wrong?)

The mirage shifts again, and this time it shows only mother and Danyal, alone. Danyal is older, taller. Seven, if Damian had to guess. Mother has a stern look on her face, her hands tight on his shoulders. "Damian will be starting training soon, my son."

Ah, then close to eight then. Training starts, always, at three years old. He watches Danyal nod, his expression mimicking their mother's. His arms are folded, always folded, behind his back, always neat.

"You can no longer have the relationship with your brother as you did before." Mother says.

Danyal's expression... falters. It shifts, it fluctuates. He looks surprised, thrown off. Like he isn't quite sure he heard what mother just said. His brows furrow. "What... do you mean, mother?"

"I mean what I said, Danyal." Mother says, stern, "Ra's will be keeping a closer eye on Damian now that he is of age to begin his training. He will not like if he sees you both getting along."

"I am sorry, my child. But your relationship with Damian ends here. You are rivals now, not brothers." In a cruel form a gentleness, mother raises her hand and tucks a stray curl out of Danyal's face.

Of course. Damian never had a relationship with his brother because of Grandfather. Of course. No, he's not feeling a little bitter. No. There's not an inner child that still, like a candleflame, wishes that he'd had a bond with his only flesh and blood.

Danyal is dead now. So it's not like it matters. He's happy about this.

Danyal frowns, and he steps back. He looks lost in thought. "We are still brothers, mother," he says, argues, and looks up to meet mother's eyes. "Let me train him, I will make sure he gets the skill he needs. If we must be rivals, then I will teach him how to defeat me. If he can defeat me, he can defeat anybody."

Their mother, and Damian, both blink in unison. Then mother smiles something sharp, calculated. She folds her hands behind her back. "Then do it. But you will make him hate you."

"...So be it."

Damian.... Damian is silent. His world axis has been tilted on its head. He is sliding, and sliding, and sliding down. Spinning. Many things click into place at once.

More memories from the mirage show. It shows Danyal training Damian. It shows their arguing, their bickering. It shows Danyal going to their mother to praise Damian and his skills, how fast he is picking up on the sword. How one day he will surpass even him.

It shows Danyal sitting outside Damian's bedroom door every night, listening in for anyone who dares to break in. His knees drawn to his chest, his sword at his side. Sometimes he sneaks in, sword drawn, when he hears a sound.

Some nights, Damian wakes up. He remembers those nights. Danyal standing over his bed with his sword unsheathed and tight at his side. He remembers the instant terror as he immediately reached for his own weapon.

His brother always scolded him for his lack of vigilance. That had he been anyone else, Damian would have had his neck cut. He would've been dead already. It only made Damian's hatred of him grow.

But he understands now. Because there were assassins in the room that Damian, four years old, three, did not notice. Not until later. He always assumed the attacks on him after Danyal's death had been because now there was a new heir to target.

It had been the only lesson he'd been even somewhat grateful for.

Then finally the mirage shimmers, and it shows Danyal, ten years old, in one of the training rooms, mid-spar with Mother. It's fast, sharp, impressive and like a blur. Damian is unsure if at ten which one of them was the better swordsman. Some of the assassins who have never met Danyal said Damian was, but the ones who had said it was Danyal. He'll never know.

In a lull in the fight, when their swords are crossed, mother speaks. "Ra's wants you and Damian to fight." She says, teeth grit into a deep scowl. The cross breaks and Danyal jumps back, he frowns.

"We have fought, mother." He says, and dives in first, swinging for mother's feet. Mother dodges, and slices at his arm. He swerves out of the way, twisting on his feet like a dance. "We are always fighting, doesn't he see our spars?"

"Not a spar like that, my son." Mother says, a snarl in her voice. She lunges, and Danyal blocks her blade. "A fight to the death. Father has grown tired of having two heirs."

That gets Danyal's attention -- or, more accurately, it distracts it. His eyes widen, and his sword lowers for a single moment. A mistake. "What?" Is all he gets out before mother has him on his back, her blade pressed to his throat.

He freezes. As does Damian. Danyal's brows furrow, then unfurrow, only to knot up again. "Mother, what do you mean a fight to the death?" He flips to his feet when mother removes the sword. She walks over to grab her water.

"Must I repeat myself, Danyal?" Mother snaps, rubbing her forehead before swigging from her canteen. "Father wants to find out which one of you is the stronger heir, and so you will fight to the death after your training in a few days."

Danyal's tan face loses a shade of color, he looks ashy. "There must be some mistake!" He exclaims, his arms gesturing out as he peers around mother. "There is a five year disparity between us, Damian has only just started training two years ago. It would be an unfair fight!"

"Do you think me unaware?" Mother whirls on him, and there is a grief-stricken look on her face. Like she is already mourning Damian's death. Damian feels ill. "Your skill is far beyond what Damian can accomplish right now, and there is nothing that I say that can convince Father otherwise."

Danyal wears an expression like he is scrambling for answers. A white knuckle grip on his weapon. There is a long silence, and his lower lip curls up. His throat bobs, he swallows. "Is there really nothing we can do?"

Mother makes a frustrated sound, pushing her loose hairs out of her face. "Not unless Father changes his mind, or I send one of you away. But Father would surely send someone to look for you or Damian."

"What if one of us faked our death?"

Mother stills. As does Damian. No, he thinks, stiff as a rod, no way. These mirages were lying, nothing but figments of an imagination. Of some quiet what-if that Damian had not yet stomped out.

Mother's expression shifts, and then turns contemplative. Danyal notices, and keeps pushing, he looks as hopeful as he could get beyond his usual unwavering, stone-like expression. "One of us could go to father--"

"No." Mother cuts off, voice sharp. Danyal wilts, confusion flittering across his face. Damian, from the corner of his eye, sees Father tense as stone. His white-slit eyes have not left the mirage. Nobody's has.

"Father will undoubtedly check there first, it would not be a good idea. You or Damian will have to go somewhere where he would not think to look. Someone unaffiliated with the League."

Danyal's face falls, shutters, and then closes up again into stone. Mother begins to pace, and Danyal's blue eyes follow her. "So a stranger?" He asks, and there is disgust lilting into his voice.

Mother nods, and she looks just as offput as Danyal.

The mirage of Damian's brother rolls his shoulders back. "Then I will do it, mother." He says, voice unwavering. There is a stubborn note behind it all, one that Damian recognizes. "I will fake my death, and Damian will stay here."

Mother's eyes turn sharp on him, and she stops in her spot. She pivots. "Are you sure?" She asks, eyebrow raising, "There is a chance you will never meet your Father if you leave. Nor will you see I or Damian again, if you do this."

Something like fear flickers across Danyal's face, eyes widening momentarily -- as if that very thought had not crossed his mind. But then it smooths over to sharp determination. He nods. "It would be the same for Damian if it was him instead. I will do it, Mother."

Damian feels ill again. Father has a strong set in his jaw, his teeth grinding.

Mother stares at Danyal, and then her expression softens. And like before, it is grieving. "In a few days time, I and another member of the League will be going on a mission to the American States. I will tell Father that you will accompany me, once there we will dispose of the other member and then orchestrate your death."

The American States. Danyal was here, in the country. He was out there somewhere -- but no this was fake. It had to be. Danyal was dead. A fool who got himself killed on a mission with mother and left the title of Heir to Damian.

Or maybe it had been his plan all along. His and mother's both.

...Was mother ever going to tell him?

The mirage of Danyal nods, sharp. Understanding. There is a gleam in his eyes that is not pride, it is tears. And when Mother leaves the room and leaves him alone, the stone-like expression on his face crumbles and falls.

His brother, ten years old, curls up his lip in an ugly way. It wobbles as the tears in his eyes do, and he brings up his hand to slam it over his mouth. And sinks to his knees, a yell-like sob muffled behind the skin.

His brother, ten years old, looks smaller than Damian remembers him being, and cries.

Damian has never seen Danyal cry. Not once in the mirage of memories, nor in his own.

The memory holds for a minute, and then disappears. And no new one shows up. The magic is gone, and it leaves a silence in its wake. Heavy, staticky, and full of revelations.

So there are two things that Damian knows that his Father now knows too.

He has an older brother

His older brother is alive.

(And a new secret third thing: Damian wasn't sure how to feel about it.)

#dpxdc #dp x dc #dp x dc crossover #danny fenton is not the ghost king #dp x dc prompt #dpxdc prompt #i promise this is a prompt #it just got very long #danyal al ghul au #my take on a danyal al ghul au #older brother danny #dpdc #dpxdc crossover #i know the usual gist is that danyal al ghul is a better knife thrower than he is a swordsman but hey #consider: phantom has a sword when he fights ghosts. how sick is that? #his ghost form having allusions to the LoA. its not obvious but its there #did i make danny brown skinned? yeah. because him being white or not is irrelevant to me and i wanted to make him darker skinned #thinking about the angst of bruce seeing his firstborn son going “i could stay with father!” and then said child being visibly crushed #when told no. and that he may never see his father ever. actually. if he fakes his death. and still doing it anyways for damian's sake #danny loves his little brother he just shows it in an unorthodox way. some of it is not his fault #also danny being an absolute grump in amity park is very funny to me. he's an arrogant little assassin child in AP who is only here for #his little brother's sake and safety. he loves his brother but that doesnt stop him from being an arrogant little brat #gremlin assassin child danny is so funny #i know this is very ironic for me to post after posting my thoughts on danyal al ghul aus and their missed potential #but actually this prompt is what spurred that post into creation in the first place actually. #because i was thinking about this au and then went “oh hey you know whats funny--” and then i #thought about it too much to the point where i had to make a post talking about it #tried to find a balance between danny being mature for his age and also still being a kid #like yeah he’s a trained assassin and has killed but also he’s a 10yo boy about to be separated - Assumingly permanently- from his family

[sunsburns]

kiss of life (ii.)

pairing: luke castellan x aphrodite!daughter reader

part one

summary: i actually suck at writing summaries but basically this is part two of part one of that soulmate au fic i posted a week ago lol

—or: luke castellan is being haunted by kronos and... well, you.

word count: 6.42k

warnings: sorry for any spelling errors, i haven’t checked yet, suppperrr angsty, luke castellan pov as he's slowly being corrupted by kronos, long reading time, descriptive injuries, blood, pre-tlt, luke is stubborn and a dick, loser!luke, annabeth smacking some sense to luke, grover being an icon, reader is lowkey unreliable tbh... cliff hanger (again... lmfao sorry)

a/n: part two!!! thank you guys for all the love on the first part! i am so grateful for everything and i love reading all the comments and reblogs. i hope this one doesn't end up flopping lmfaooo. i honestly wanted this to be a short angsty fic but i got carried away and now i'm planning a whole multi-part fic for this, phew. anyways enjoyyy <;33

At eighteen, Luke was cursed with nightmares. 

They clawed at the edges of his mind, threatening to unravel the fragile front of peace that he had fought so hard to maintain. Each night, he would awaken drenched in a cold sweat, the echoes of his tortured dreams lingering in the corners of his mind like a haunting melody.

The Hermes cabin, once a sanctuary from the outside world, now felt like a prison, its walls closing in around him with each passing moment. The moon, a silent witness to his torment, cast its ethereal glow through the window, illuminating the slumbering forms of campers. Some were children of Hermes, like himself, bound by the tenuous ties of blood and kinship. Others, however, were unclaimed, their parentage shrouded in mystery and uncertainty.

And as Luke lay awake in the stillness of the night, a sense of loneliness washed over him like a tidal wave, drowning him in a sea of doubt. In the depths of his troubled sleep, he could feel the tendrils of darkness closing in around him, threatening to consume him whole. And try as he might to deny it, he knew that his nightmares held a deeper significance, a harbinger of events yet to unfold in the shadowy pits of fate.

His nightmares were callings. A taunting voice would echo through the corridors of his mind, its insidious whispers weaving a thought of deceit and manipulation. It masqueraded as a voice of reason, a beacon beckoning him towards a destiny that promised demigods everything.

At first, Luke dismissed it as nothing more than the ramblings of a tortured soul, the byproduct of his own restlessness. But as the whispers grew louder and more insistent, he could no longer ignore the chilling realization that they were something far more sinister—a call to arms, a summons to embrace his role as a harbinger of the new world.

The nights he wasn't shaking from night terrors, he was tossing and turning at the thought of you. And he didn’t know what was worse. He couldn't escape you. The haunting image of you lingered in his mind even during sleep — your lips, your eyes, your skin, your voice, and that shared scar and your demise.

But at least, you'd given up on him by then. Your persistent efforts to reach out to Luke gradually dwindled into nothingness. Though you were still everywhere, a shadow that seemed to torment his every move, you no longer gave him even a fraction of your attention.

Gone were the days of you seeking him out, your footsteps no longer echoing in the halls of Camp Half-Blood in search of him. You refrained from asking for Chris's help, no longer burdening him with questions on Luke's whereabouts. The notes you once left behind were now relics of a time long past, their words fading with each passing day.

And as the full moon rose once more over the waters of the lake, you no longer waited by its shores.

Luke turned in bed, his mind restless as he tried to shake the image of you. He pulled the covers tighter around himself, seeking comfort in the warmth they provided, but the chill of unease still lingered in the air.

His gaze drifted across the row of beds, each a testament to the diverse personalities that inhabited the Hermes cabin. The floor was strewn with a chaotic array of sleeping bags, toys, and discarded clothing, while a collection of rocks adorned one corner near the closets, and drawings adorned the walls.

Despite the usual chaos that reigned during the day, the cabin now lay quiet and still. The children of Hermes, along with the unclaimed children and the ones of minor gods, had finally settled into the embrace of sleep. 

But amidst the calm, a sense of unease gnawed at Luke's consciousness. He couldn't shake the feeling that had settled over him after he noticed the empty bed and the slightly ajar door. 

Luke pushed back the covers and rose from his bed. His footsteps echoed softly as he made his way toward the empty bottom bunk, hoping not to wake anyone. The sight of an old penguin stuffed animal discarded at the foot of the bed made him edgy. His eyes trailed to the traces of blood splattered on the hardwood floor, stark against the dim light filtering through the cabin windows.

With a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach, Luke picked up the toy, its soft white and black material now stained with crimson. Clutching it tightly in his hand, he made his way out of the cabin, the urgency of his steps echoing in the stillness of the night.

He knew all too well who the missing camper was – five-year-old Penelope, one of the newest arrivals to Camp Half-Blood and possibly one of the youngest campers. Found wandering alone in the woods near the camp hill just a week ago, she had been brought to safety by a group of fellow demigods on a quest. Luke couldn't shake the resemblance she bore to a younger Annabeth, with her wide eyes and insatiable thirst for knowledge. He wouldn't be surprised if Athena claimed her as her own one day–that is if he ever found her.

Luke's worry for Penelope weighed heavily on his mind, a knot of anxiety tightening in his chest as he combed through every inch of camp. The traces of blood he discovered fueled his unease, each droplet a stark reminder of the dangers lurking just beyond the safety of the camp's borders.

In his search, Luke traversed familiar paths and hidden corners, his footsteps echoing in the quiet stillness of the night. He scoured the armour, the climbing wall, and the camp store.

Luke had known all about campers disappearing, whether it be on a quest or to escape and try to live a normal life with humans that never really lasted long enough as monsters would dwell within the shadows outside of camp. 

It was in the dim glow of the kitchen lights that Luke finally caught a glimpse of Penelope, perched on the counter in her pyjamas, her hair adorned with two loose pigtails. A sense of relief washed over him at the sight of her safe and sound, yet it was short-lived as he noticed she wasn't alone.

His hand hovered over the door, hesitating as he listened to the soft murmur of conversation from within. With a steady breath, Luke pushed the door open ever so slightly, peering through the crack to catch a glimpse of Penelope. And you.

You, who looked older than when you first met in the infirmary. There was an air of maturity about you, a gracefulness that hadn't been there before. Your features seemed more refined, your presence commanding attention in a way that spoke of inner strength and resilience. Luke couldn't help but notice how your beauty had blossomed, surpassing the standards of mere mortal allure. It was a beauty that seemed to defy classification, uniquely yours yet undeniably captivating.

Despite this, Luke sensed a shift in your demeanour—a resignation, perhaps, to the reality of his ignorance. You had lost any hope you once harboured for him. His guarded nature would forever keep you at arm's length. And while part of him knew that this was for the best, a small, almost imperceptible part of him couldn't help but feel a twinge of regret.

For in the crossroads of his heart, amidst the shadows that threatened to consume him, there lingered a faint glimmer of longing. The thought of being intertwined with someone who could offer solace in his darkest moments, who could bring light to the depths of his despair, held an undeniable appeal. And as much as he tried to deny it, the chance of you approaching him once more tugged at the fringes of his resolve, tempting him to let down his guard and allow you closer than he ever dared to imagine.

"So, you wanna tell me what you're doing up this late?" You approached Penelope with a gentle smile, a cookie in your hand as a peace offering. 

Your words hung in the air, gentle and coaxing, as you tried to draw Penelope out of her shell. Luke watched from the shadows, his gaze flickering between you and the young camper, a sense of admiration stirring at how you spoke to Penelope.

Penelope hesitated, her gaze shifting between the cookie in her hand and you. 

"You don't know?" You persisted, your voice a soft murmur that carried a hint of playfulness. You settled beside Penelope on the counter, your posture was relaxed as you leaned in closer to her. "Is it... a secret?" you whispered.

Luke noted the subtle change in your demeanour, the way you seemed to adapt effortlessly to Penelope's shy nature. It was a side of you he hadn't seen before, one that resonated deeply with him.

As Penelope nodded in response to your question, you continued, your tone gentle and reassuring. "Let me tell you a secret," you offered, holding up your pinky finger as a symbol of trust. "I am the best secret keeper in this camp. I pinky promise."

After a moment's hesitation, Penelope tentatively reached out, her tiny finger linking with yours in a hesitant pinky promise. A small smile tugged at the corners of your lips.

Penelope murmured, her voice barely above a whisper. "I got hurt."

"What?" You gasped in genuine concern, your eyes widening as you shifted your attention to the young camper. "Can I see?"

Penelope nodded silently, her arm outstretched towards you. Luke observed from his vantage point, his heart twisting with worry as he noted the faint hint of red near Penelope's elbow.

You took Penelope's arm into your hands gently, your touch tender and reassuring as you rolled up the sleeves of her pale pink pyjamas. Luke couldn't help but notice the familiarity of those pyjamas, a subtle reminder of Annabeth's kindness and resourcefulness in making Penelope feel at home.

"Oh, wow, that looks like it hurts," You remarked softly, your brows furrowing in sympathy as you retrieved a first aid kit from the nearby cabinets. "You're handling it very well," you praised Penelope, your tone gentle and encouraging. "So brave of you."

Penelope watched you attentively as you began to clean her wound, her small frame tense with discomfort. "I don't feel brave," she admitted quietly.

"No?" You glanced up at her, "why not?"

"I miss my mommy."

Her words were tinged with a sense of longing that struck a chord with both you and Luke.

Luke chewed on the inside of his cheek, his thoughts drifting to his own longing for his mother. Penelope's admission resonated with him deeply, reminding him of the ache that never truly faded, no matter how many years passed, no matter how deep he tried to bury it. 

It was a sentiment shared by every demigod at camp, a silent ache that echoed through the cabins and training grounds. Yet, it was a pain rarely spoken aloud as if verbalizing it would make it all too real, too unbearable.

The yearning for a parent, for someone to fill the void left by their absence, weighed heavily on each camper's shoulders. It was a burden they carried silently, masking their vulnerability with bravado and determination. But for Penelope, the longing was raw in its innocence.

At just five years old, she was too young to fully comprehend the extent of her emotions. She couldn't grasp the complexities of her situation, the world of gods and monsters that surrounded her. All she knew was the absence of a mother's embrace, the absence of a comforting presence to soothe her fears and wipe away her tears.

It was a pain she didn't deserve, a burden too heavy for such a young soul to bear. The gods, in their arrogance and indifference, seemed oblivious to the lives they had shattered, and the pain they had inflicted upon their own children.

"Yeah?" You responded gently, "How much do you miss her?"

"This much," Penelope replied, her small hands spreading wide.

"Wow! That's a lot," you remarked, a sombre note underlying your tone as you processed Penelope's words. After a beat of silence, you shook off the heaviness of the moment and mustered a smile for her. "There we go. All cleaned up," you announced cheerfully, pressing a bandaid onto her elbow.

Penelope's smile widened in response, a glimmer of gratitude shining in her eyes as she kicked her feet. In a quiet voice barely above a whisper, she murmured her thanks to you.

"So, you wanna tell me how you got hurt?"

"I don't know." This had been the most Luke had ever seen Penelope talk, and while her voice was still timid, the words slipping out hesitantly, she seemed to confide in you. "I woke up because my arm hurt."

"The cut was just there?" You asked, and when she nodded, you hummed sympathetically. "...I get those too, you know."

Penelope's eyes widened, "You do?"

"Yes," you affirmed with a soft chuckle. "A lot of people do. You get them from your soulmate. Did your mom ever tell you about soulmates?"

"Sometimes."

"Well, a long time ago, humans used to have four arms, four legs, and two faces," You explained.

"What?"

"I know, right? Super freaky. So freaky that Zeus decided to split them in half. So, now we have two arms, two legs, and one face."

"What happened to the other half?"

"That's our soulmate. Our other half. And Aphrodite gave us a gift to help us find our soulmate." The smile that had adorned your face slowly waned, "Every time you get hurt, your soulmate gets hurt too."

"Is that why you have a cut on your face?"

The question lingered, hanging in the air like a whispered secret. Luke held his breath, his gaze fixed on you, waiting for your response. But instead of answering, you reached out to Penelope, a bittersweet smile gracing your lips as you guided her off the counter.

"Let's get you back to your cabin."

Your words were gentle, a soft reassurance for Penelope's sake, but Luke could sense the undercurrent of sadness that ran beneath them. As you led Penelope away, Luke's heart ached in a way that felt so familiar yet foreign at the same time. It burned the same way it did when he returned from the quest when he hated the world and everyone in it, but this time, the only person he could find himself hating was himself.

He retreated from the door, clutching the stuffed animal in his hands. He felt a fleeting reminder of the times he would hide from the monsters with Thalia.

Luke's mind swirled with discordant emotions, each thought a whirlwind of uncertainty. He knew he didn't deserve your answer, didn't deserve the solace of your words. He had made it clear too many times to count that he never wanted a soulmate, never wanted you.

But despite his protests, despite the walls he had built around his heart, Luke couldn't deny the tug that pulled him to you, the hunger in his soul that refused to be ignored. It was a longing he couldn't shake, a yearning that whispered of a connection he dared not embrace. Knowing that keeping you away was the only way to protect you from the darkness that lurked within him was what kept him sane.

"Luke?"

The sound of his name tore Luke out of his thoughts like a violent gust of wind. He spun around, finding you standing on the porch to the kitchens, Penelope at your side. She held your hand, a small beacon of warmth and light in the dimness of the night. 

It seemed too perfect, too surreal, and Luke couldn't help but feel a pang of disbelief. Were you trying to kill him? It had been too long since the last time he spoke to you, let alone stood so close to you, and here you were, the epitome of what a demigod should be, even if you were still in the dreaded bright orange camp shirt.

"Hey," he managed to say.

You continued to descend the stairs, each step cautious and deliberate. "What- uh, what are you doing up?"

"I was actually looking for Penelope." Luke motioned to the girl hiding behind your legs. When he caught her eye, Penelope grinned and let go of your hand, darting over to Luke and jumping into his arms. He lifted her easily, a small smile tugging at his lips as he handed her the stuffed toy she had left behind. 

"Oh." You hummed, "I didn't know you're a Hermes kid?"

"I'm unclaimed," Penelope chimed.

"For now," Luke's voice was gentle as he held Penelope in his arms. "And what were you doing up?"

"I was looking for a bandaid. I got lost." Penelope's words were punctuated by a soft yawn, and she nestled her head against Luke's shoulder, her exhaustion evident in every movement.

You hesitated, your gaze shifting to meet Luke's. "I found her by the canoes... near the dock."

The silence that settled between you felt heavy, suffocating almost as if it threatened to engulf you both. Luke found himself wandering back to the memories of you waiting for him at the dock during the summer nights and the regret that weighed heavily on his heart for never approaching you. He remembered the countless times he stood among the trees, watching you from afar, paralyzed by his own insecurities and fears.

Were you waiting for him there tonight? 

No, you couldn't have.

Guilt gnawed at him, threatening to consume him whole. "Listen, I-"

"I'm gonna go." You cut him off abruptly, your voice carrying a hint of tension. "Counsellor duties and all. I've got cabin checks in the morning so... you know, I gotta print papers... and stuff..."

Luke frowned at your lame excuse. "It's midnight."

"It's never too early to start now." You huffed defensively. "Bye, Penelope."

"Bye," Penelope mumbled sleepily, her hand lazily waving in your direction as you walked away, disappearing into the darkness of the night and the trail leading to the Aphrodite cabin.

As they made their way back to the Hermes cabin, Luke held onto Penelope tightly, feeling the weight of her small body in his arms. The night air was cool against his skin, and he couldn't help but feel a pang of shame for the unease he noticed in you earlier. He wanted to say something, to bridge the gap that seemed to have formed between you, but the words remained trapped in his throat.

Once they returned to the warmth of their cabin, Luke moved with a careful grace, mindful not to disturb the sleeping campers around them. He gently placed Penelope back on her bed and tucked her in. But as he began to step away, her small hand shot out, wrapping around two of his fingers. Luke froze, eyes wide with surprise.

"Luke?" Penelope's voice was barely above a whisper, but it cut through the silence of the cabin like a knife.

"Yeah?" Luke's voice was equally quiet.

"I think your soulmate is really cool." 

Penelope's words hung in the air, a simple statement that carried more weight than he could have ever anticipated.

Seven hours later, the memory of your face lingered in Luke's mind like an unshakeable ghost. Tossing back and forth in his bed, he tried to rid himself of the image, but it clung to him like a shadow. Each time he closed his eyes, your face flashed before him, haunting his thoughts. Even when he turned away, the spectre of Kronos lurked in the depths of his subconscious, a reminder of the choice that still loomed over him.

As morning broke over Camp Half-Blood, Luke found himself seated at the breakfast table, surrounded by the hustle and bustle of his fellow campers. Annabeth's presence brought a brief distraction.

She slid into the seat in front of him during breakfast and gave him a strange look, slightly out of breath from the morning rush, a half-eaten apple in hand.

"Hey," she greeted him, her voice carrying a note of concern. Pausing to tie back her braids, she studied him intently. "Who you looking for?"

Luke's response came too quickly, "No one," he replied, his voice strained. Thankfully, Chris had left earlier because he was in charge of the climbing wall in the morning, he wasn't there to tell Annabeth that Luke had been looking for you. His eyes scanned the sea of faces in the dining hall, a futile attempt to catch sight of you amidst the crowd. He felt pathetic. "What's up with you?"

Annabeth raised her brows. "Archery? Together? Remember? Or did you forget?"

"No. I didn't forget."

She only stared at him, skeptical.

"What?" he asked, "why do you keep looking at me like that?"

"Oh, I get it," Annabeth's smirk hinted at a newfound understanding, her eyes sparkling with amusement. She let out a laugh, the sound echoing through the dining hall, as she shook her head and rested her chin on her hand. "How long are you planning to keep this up for?"

Luke frowned, confused.

"This entire act you have with... you know," She didn't need to say your name for him to catch on. "It's getting out of hand, no?"

"I..." Caught off guard by her directness, Luke hesitated, unsure of how to respond. Choosing to play dumb, he feigned innocence. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"Right." Annabeth's knowing look pierced through his facade. She was always too perceptive for her own good. Fixing him with a narrowed gaze, she gave him a playful kick under the table, the impact enough to draw a startled reaction from Luke. With a mischievous glint in her eyes, she took another bite of her apple before teasing him further. "Well, Grover said you're killing yourself."

"What?" He blinked at her, taken aback, "I'm not killing myself. Grover's just being dramatic."

"I don't think so." She said, slowly, carefully forming her words. "I mean, if I had a soulmate..."

Luke's defences bristled at the mention of soulmates, a topic he preferred to avoid. "Is this all you wanted to talk about?" 

"I'm allowed to worry, "Annabeth reminded him, her words tinged with a gentle insistence. "Family, remember?"

The word 'family' carried weight, a reminder of their shared history and the bond they had forged over the years. It was a phrase Annabeth often employed to coax Luke out of his shell, to encourage him to confide in her. When they were younger, 'family' meant everything to Luke, thanks in no small part to Annabeth's influence.

"You don't need to worry," Luke assured her, though uncertainty gnawed at the edges of his resolve. "I know what I'm doing." But did he? Luke longed for the simplicity of a time before he met you when the idea of having a soulmate seemed like a distant fantasy. Now, every decision he made, every scar he bore, carried weight, knowing it could impact you in ways he couldn't comprehend.

"The least you can do is get to know her before she leaves."

Her words struck a chord within him, prompting Luke to cast a discreet glance around the dining hall, searching for you amidst the bustling crowd again.

"She's leaving?"

"Not forever, "Annabeth clarified with a chuckle, "Just on a quest. Search and rescue. Nothing fancy."

"...How do you know this?" he said after a moment.

"Chiron told me," Annabeth shrugged nonchalantly. "He also told me to tell you that the ceremony is tonight. I hope that doesn't kill you."

It did kill him a bit. At least, it felt like it did. Luke Castellan moved through camp with a sense of urgency, his strides purposeful yet tinged with a hint of apprehension. His fingers, calloused from years of wielding weapons, throbbed with a dull ache with the burn from the bow and arrow. 

Shoulders tense, skin prickling under the relentless glare of the sun, he scanned the bustling campgrounds.

The weight of his bow rested heavily on his shoulder, the familiar weight offering a semblance of comfort amidst the chaos. With practiced precision, he counted the arrows in his quiver, his movements fluid and sure. 

Then, he heard it—the sound that drew him like a siren's call. Your voice, lilting and laughter-filled, cut through the clamour of the camp, pulling him toward you like a magnet. There you stood, leaning against the doorway of the Hephaestus cabin, a clipboard clutched to your chest as you exchanged banter with Atticus, the skilled swordsmith whose craftsmanship had forged Luke's sword.

There was something different about you today, something delicate, more approachable than he had ever seen before. Last night, with Penelope, you had worn a similar expression—gentle, caring—but it was a side of you that Luke had never been privileged to witness. With him, you had always been guarded, reserved, as though afraid that he would cut or maim you.

As you scribbled something onto your clipboard, Luke found himself intrigued by the way your smile softened. It was a stark contrast to the confident facade you often wore, and for a moment, Luke felt a pang of guilt for pushing you away so soon.

Unbeknownst to you, you were drawing closer to Luke with each step, your path inexorably leading you toward him. Part of him craved to reach out, while another part hesitated, unsure of how to talk to you after all this time.

"Hey," Luke finally managed to utter as you drew near, his voice tinged with uncertainty.

You paused, a hint of surprise flickering across your features as you registered his presence. "Hi?" Your response was tentative, laced with a hint of confusion. After a moment's hesitation, you glanced down at your clipboard, "I'm not changing my rank on your cabin. I know three is low, but I was being generous."

A ghost of a smile tugged at Luke's lips. He was all too familiar with the chaotic nature of Cabin Eleven, where overcrowding was the norm and taking turns on the sleeping bags was treated as a game. "No, no. I just..." He trailed off, suddenly realizing he hadn't thought through the purpose of seeking you out. "I think we need to talk."

The confusion in your expression mirrored his own, and for a moment, there was a palpable sense of uncertainty hanging between you. "Talk?" you echoed.

Luke nodded, his gaze meeting yours earnestly. "Yes."

"You want to talk...? To me?" 

"I hope it's not that bizzare."

He tried to smile for you, but it felt wrong. Luke couldn't shake the weight of unease that settled in the pit of his stomach. He knew all too well that he hadn't been the embodiment of an ideal soulmate. In his mind, there lingered a pervasive belief that you harboured nothing but hatred towards him, something that you made obvious with every interaction between you two.

He wondered if this was the way you felt during the days he avoided you. 

Luke had noticed the shift. There was a calculated recklessness to your actions, a deliberate disregard for your own well-being that bordered on self-destructive. You stubbed your toe on roots and table legs, tugged too hard at your hair, and scraped your knees. You started to pull your punches while sparring with Clarisse, just enough to ensure that he felt the sting of every blow. You never blocked a hit in the face, a twisted satisfaction in the knowledge that your pain mirrored his own. Together, you would limp into the infirmary, bloodied and bruised where you'd be grinning far too wide, barely offering an ounce of guilt when Luke held ice to his face.

You lowered the clipboard from your chest, letting it rest against your side as you faced Luke. The warm rays of the sun filtered through the dense foliage above, casting dappled shadows that danced across your features and forced you to squint against the brightness. The noise of children's laughter and the sound of feet pounding against the earth filled the air.

Your voice cut through the noise, "You've made it pretty clear that you want nothing to do with me, Luke," you began, your words carrying the weight of unspoken hurt. "You can't blame me for being surprised."

As you began to walk toward the next cabin, Luke fell into step beside you, "Can you just give me a chance—" 

"I think you're too late for that."

"I know, I just—" Luke's words faltered, his thoughts tumbling over one another in a desperate attempt to articulate his feelings.

"I have nothing to say to you," you declared abruptly, stopping in your tracks and turning to face him. Luke skidded to a stop just in time, his gaze meeting yours as you regarded him with a mixture of sadness and frustration. "Seriously. I understand, okay? Did I come on too strong? Maybe. Yeah, I'll admit that" you acknowledged, your expression softening slightly. "Maybe coming to you hours after your shit quest was stupid, but I gave you space when you asked—"

"I just wanted to wish you luck on your quest," Luke interrupted, his voice gentle yet tinged with a hint of remorse.

With a quiet "Oh," you stepped back, your eyes momentarily averting his gaze. Were you embarrassed? Were you disappointed? Did you want to fight? 

"Sorry," you mumbled, your voice tinged with uncertainty. "Thanks. I'm, uh, I'm seeing the Oracle after this. So... not technically a quest yet."

"It's your first one, right?" Luke's voice softened, an unspoken understanding passing between them.

"If you're worried about getting another scar, don't worry, I doubt it's anything dangerous," you reassured him, though your words held a hint of hesitation. There was a fleeting moment where your gaze lingered on him as if expecting a sudden change in his demeanour, but Luke remained still, his expression unreadable. "I just need to find Eros and go from there."

"Eros?" Luke's pace slowed, curiosity dancing in his eyes as he raised his brows in interest. Yet beneath the surface, a seed of annoyance sprouted, tendrils of jealousy winding their way through his thoughts. Your quest sounded far more intriguing than his own, and a bitter brew of envy churned in the depths of his stomach. Despite his inner turmoil, he attempted to play it off with a forced chuckle. "Has Cupid gone missing?"

"Apparently," you muttered bitterly under your breath, the resentment palpable in your tone. Luke sensed the edge to your words, though he pretended not to notice.

You sighed, "Is this conversation going anywhere? I really need to finish these cabin checks. I'm busy enough as it is."

Your words held an unspoken plea for him to leave, and though Luke understood, a pang of disappointment nagged at him. He couldn't entirely blame you; after all, he'd been an ass for months.

Both of you hesitated just outside the door to cabin eight, and Luke could feel your eyes on him. When you began to step away, his hand shot out, wrapping around your wrist. You froze, eyes wide with surprise.

“I also wanted to thank you,” He said, words rushing off his tongue.

“For what?” you asked.

“For last night.” He wasn't sure why he brought it up, why he felt like he needed you to know. "With Penelope."

"It was nothing," you said, voice barely audible. "We gotta look out for each other, right?"

Then, you left, you hurried up the short staircase to the cabin door, barely sparing him a glance before knocking. From his place, Luke could hear someone welcoming you into Artemis's cabin. He watched you until the door was shut behind you, vanishing you from his sight.

As the ceremony approached, the hues of twilight painted Camp Half-Blood in a golden glow, a serene yet foreboding atmosphere enveloping the surroundings. Luke's unease mounted with the setting sun, casting stretched-out shadows that seemed to carry something unnoticed. He couldn't shake the image of the figure from his nightmares, its monstrous visage haunting his thoughts with each passing moment. Yet, amidst the creeping darkness, there was an allure to the unknown, a temptation that beckoned him; its words, its promise of seeing the truth.

His gaze remained fixed on the white marble archway, half-expecting the nightmare to materialize at any moment, its twisted form emerging from the shadows with outstretched fingers. However, it was you who appeared, ascending the steps with graceful determination. Your presence seemed to dispel the shadows, bathing the surroundings in a radiant glow that eclipsed the fears that had once gripped Luke's heart. You were a blinding vice.

"Didn't think I'd see you here."

A sudden jab to his side sent him recoiling, a sharp pain shooting through his ribs. Luke winced, his gaze flickering to you as you flinched, subtly reaching for your own side. Quickly diverting his attention, he focused on the girl who had spoken.

Clarisse arched a brow at Luke, a smirk dancing on her lips. "Jumpy."

"Give him a break," Chris interjected, joining Luke's side and draping an arm over his shoulder. "Luke had a rough night, he lost a kid."

"Is that so?" Clarisse's grin widened. "And Chiron doesn't know? I'm assuming he doesn't otherwise, he wouldn't have picked you for this."

Luke scoffed and crossed his arms, "I'm the best swordsman at camp."

Clarisse's sarcasm was palpable. "Oh, I don't doubt it. The most humble, too," she retorted, unfazed by his glare. "But let's face it, a search and rescue isn't exaclty your thing anymore. You're more of an action kind of guy. You live off the glory of victory. Chiron knows that."

She was right, Chiron did know that. Which was why he rarely requested Luke to stand in unless there was a catch. Then, the flames in the torches flickered to life, and silence enveloped the candidates. Each demigod chosen by Chiron swiftly took their place, standing tall and resolute by a marble pillar, eager to showcase themselves as the prime choice for the quest. Anything for Kleos. Anything for glory.

Chiron nodded, his gesture sharp and decisive, as he placed a firm hand on your shoulder before addressing the assembly. 

"The Oracle has confirmed that this quest is a search and rescue," he stated, casting a brief, confident glance in your direction. "One where you will use all your best efforts to bring Eros back to the safety of Mount Olympus and restore the lost balance. I'm sure you know where to find him." His gaze then shifted to the rest of the candidates. "Here, I have selected some of our most compelling candidates from which you will choose one to join you on your quest, ensuring your success. Annabeth Chase, Atticus Brang, Chris Rodrigues, Clarisse La-"

As Chiron listed the candidates, you carefully evaluated your options, your eyes calculating. In the dim torchlight, Luke could just discern the thin line etched across your face, stretching from the end of your brow to your-

"I choose Luke."

The ensuing silence felt like something they could all drown in, leaving everyone stunned. Even Annabeth raised her eyebrows in surprise, though there was a glint of amusement in her eyes as she spotted Luke's bewilderment. Surely, he must have misheard. There couldn't possibly be any way you had chosen him, could there?

Chiron turned to you, his tone measured. "Are you sure?"

You never shifted your gaze from Luke, who refused to meet your eyes as he stared fixedly at the pillar across from him. Yet, the clenching of his jaw, whether from anger or annoyance or something else, was enough to elicit a satisfied smile from you.

"I'm sure," you affirmed.

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[leafsfromthevine]

🩶 ☆ ☄. *. ⋆ ☆ 🩶

#BOTH OF THEM WITH FLOWING HAIR??? #AND THEIR LITTLE SCOWLS #THEY LITERALLY LOOK LIKE BFS WHO ARE FIGHTING #ALSO SOKKA RESTING HIS ELBOW??? ON ZUKOS KNEE??? AM I SEEING THIS RIGHT #zuko is glaring into his soul in the second image #sokka is giving him the silent treatment #too much teenage angst they can't communicate rn #god i stumbled across this during my hunt for zukka crumbs and i can't believe i haven't seen this before like???? #they are literally slaying SO HARD the hair the poses the expressions the vibes #sorry i had so much to say about this #zukka #zuko x sokka #zukka screenshots #atla screenshots

[skyscrapergods]

has being fucking Massive and Immortality changed the alicorns’ perspective on regular ponies? I imagine they’d get more condescending and distant and stuff

You are surrounded by flies. If you pause, and look closely, you realize the flies are iridescent, with deeply colorful eyes, and beautiful wings like stained glass. It cannot see the colorful windows of your world, but you can try to describe them. But know that doing so take up the creature's precious time. Years to them is mere hours to you. In a long conversation about the stars, you and the fly share ideas and perspectives. You come away delighted with a new view on constellations and what they mean to the common folk.

The fly comes away dazzled, haunted, and halfway to the grave. What was to you a wonderful conversation was years of study, communion, and dedication on the part of the small creature. He gave up any other pursuits, he constructed his life around this cause. He lost his friends, family, and home. You lost your lunch break.

You love this creature. You love the small being that you once were. You want to talk to him again. You want to tell him of the stars, of dreams... but to speak with him twice, at least meaningfully, would take from him the rest of his life. Could you demand that from him for the sake of your own curiosity? Years passed for him already. In the time it took you to draw a breath, his childhood ended. Do you summon him again? Or do you let him go to live his life, what's left of it?

It is painful for everyone. It hurts something in your chest, it breaks the heart of a god. It wounds his family to watch him leave them behind for the sake of what? A mere whim? He had ambitions! He had a story! It's all gone now. Rewritten for your musings.

You leave him. He cries for you but he needs not a goddess. He needs to live, to turn from the sky to his fellow bugs.

That's what he is. A fly. A mere insect to you. To hold him down is to pin him through his soft center, and display his corpse as a record of his extinction.

So look away. Forget the color of his eyes, the sound of his voice, and the intelligence that stirred you to pluck him out his world and keep him in yours. There, he would be a wildflower with a cut stem. He would be beautiful, but he is so small, and so quiet. He would be just a decoration on your table; made to dance and sing for your amusement and then tossed out with the rubbish when he breaks.

You miss him. You love him. But he is a crawling worm and you are the rain. There are many others like him, but you must be careful to only speak a few words to each. Or better yet, say nothing at all. Let them fade and mix into a writhing blur without name, stories, or opinions on stars.

You are surrounded by flies.

#ask #shire draws #mlp #my little pony #alicorn #alicorns #eldritch horror #skyscraper gods #shire writes #shire screams #skyscraper gods lore #alicorn lore #cosmic horror #cosmic angst #ssg alicorns #ssg luna #ssg pipsqueak

[x-crowmancer-x]

Sometimes it's a tough, angsty day and you put your face in a cake.

It's ok Chayanne.

#qsmp #qsmp fanart #qsmp chayanne #qsmp art #i think the angst is really starting to get to the kids #give them a break please!! let them be happy \lh #qsmp screenshots #qsmp eggs #crowmancerx #taken on Valentine's day i really wanted to draw his face in the cake my poor little chef #he is emotionally exhausted

[im-totally-not-an-alien-2]

Danny couldn't really explain why he always answered this specific summoning ritual. It was like a feeling. One of warmth. Of a mug of hot cocoa in your hands and a nice weighted blanket dropped around your shoulders as a fire blazed in the hearth in front of you, keeping the chill in the rest of the room at bay.

Danny always lost himself in the sensation and found himself back in that stupid circle of protection with that same wierd guy demanding answers. But Danny didn't know anything about a "Lazarus Pit" or a "Pit Madness" let alone a cure for it. Even if he did he wasn't going to tell Red Robin anything after all the times he'd used the marriage summoning spell to get him here.

Earlier on Red had explained it was the only spell known to thier universe that could summon an entity from "The Lazarus Dimension" Which he guessed was another name for the ghost zone and Phantom was the only one to ever be summoned.

Danny couldn't help but wonder why...

After escaping Bird boy and his supernatural pop quiz (oh look, another test for him to flunk) he returns home only to discover his parents had seen him get summoned and accused him of being a ghost that replaced thier baby boy.

Naturalally the next time Red Robin had summoned Phantom he was angry. He was tired and dirty from being on the run from his parents, his worlds US government, and Vlad. Not to mention his own rogues gallery didn't exactly cut him any slack.

So Danny decided that if Red Robin wanted to abuse the power of a marriage ritual than the very least he can do is put his money where his mouth is.

Danny grinned and exited the magic circle, taking delight in Reds widening eyes before he lunged. A kiss sealed the deal, making sure Danny had a safeish place to stay.

After all, married couples in the infinite realms were obligated and even compelled to protect and care for eachother.

#dpxdc #prompts #fanfiction prompts #danny phantom #danny fenton #tim drake #red robin #danny: I will explain nothing but this is all your fault #danny: *becomes Tims sort of house husband and cleans up after him/organizes his stuff* #danny: *starts getting lessons from Alfred* #tim: wait. maybe this wont be so bad... #marriage of convenience #marriage of spite #enemies to friends to lovers #drama #before the friendship #also angst #but its not like his friends and family are dead in this #this time. #danny is gonna be a little shot to tim for a bit before tim offers an olive branch