#tw discombobulated head

[cherrio-krispz]

Hiii kind of got too tired of drawing this day after day so

Rules for Dtiys

1, Idm what pose you give him, if the head’s too much it’s ok :3 he can say congrats for 1k instead

2, Use the tag Krispz1kdtiys or @ me!

Hope u beetles have fun

Prizes

There will be two prizes like last time, 2nd winner gets sketch + colors and 1st gets a full drawing

(Dtiys is done)

#tw discombobulated head #is that the right word #no idea #tw blood #ig #horror sans #horrorsans #krispz1kdtiys #horrortale #cw dismemberment #undertale #undertale fanart #undertale au #undertalegame #undertale alternate universe #ut au #krispz art #digital art #digital drawing #krispz #I’M SO TIRED #MY STYLE CHANGED TOO SO IT WON’T END UP LIKE THIS MESS..😭 #i’m stil l learning colors and rendering !!!!! #wish me luck this is tough #tbh I don’t like this art piece not my best one #it’s #decent

[sunnydayjackass]

I’ve been kinda down lately, and I thought of the question.

What would Jack do if Y/N were in any danger? Say like a person attempted to harm them, or tried to abduct them in real time? I’m really curious on what would go down-

I'm sorry to hear that boo. Ask box is open if you have more requests or my DMs if you want someone to vent to. Safe & judgment free

TW: attempted kidnapping, aggravated assault, gore ish?

It goes without saying that the fact Jack is real, tangible, and corporeal to only you has more cons than it does pros. While Jack is known to fuss and fawn about you, he worries more than he'll ever let on. Under that sunny optimistic bravado is layers of worry and anxiety about your well being. He's very aware that the world can be a cruel and unforgiving place. People have bad intentions and he stresses over doing what he can to protect you from it.

It's a delicate line to walk, Jack doesn't want to smother you or scare you of course but I can absolutely see him as the type to gently encourage you getting something to defend yourself on the walks home from work. After all they make such cute options these days!! Whether you do or don't buy into investing in these items (real talk-- please do) it still doesn't do much to ease Jack's worries.

These fears are made made real, ripped right from his nighmares one evening when the pair of you are walking home from a shift at Popov's. A car approaching slowly from behind to roll up alongside you, Jack can feel you tense up, your hand slowly towards your bag and in a blink the car stops and a man approaches you. Gentle at first to attempt to persuade you into the vehicle, buttering you up with compliments, asking you out tonight. Its so bizarre and forward you're disgusted immediately. But when you decline and hasten your walk to your apartment with Jack eagerly ushering you along, you're struck with something hard and heavy at the back of your head.

What if Jack could possess others? There's this searing rage that boils in his veins, an absolute fury that he himself has never experienced before. And what follows...well- you have no idea. But it isn't pretty by any means. What Jack orchestrates is nothing short of slow and brutal torture of a man by his own hands. Those same vile hands that dared to reach out at you, dared to hurt you, it was likely for the best those hands be broken, right? Those covetous eyes that dragged over your body, that brain that carried such awful thoughts and ideas- whatever impulse or synapse dictated that attempting to harm you was a good idea needed to be snuffed out. Jack takes his time, his voice teasing and taunting his man and orchestrating mutilation...it's deserved of course. All Jack does, he does for you.

You're woken not long after, your head throbbing as you groan and hear Jack breathe a sigh of relief. "I was so worried you were concussed but...had to get us home as quickly as possible." You still look discombobulated, trying to get your bearings before you see Jack's face but your vision still swims a little. You could have sworn he had on more facepaint but maybe you're just seeing things. The two of you hurry home where Jack fetches the first aid kit from under the sink.

As you sit on the lip of the bathtub with your back to Jack as he gently sifts through your hair, cleaning away caked blood and the nasy gash at your head, the bleeding mostly stopped deep mottled bruising around where the impact was. Jack's heart breaks, sinking into the floor as he looks at it. If only he could do more to keep you safe, he'd been lucky this time and he'd do it without question again and again for you. He was happy to do it, enjoyed it even. There wasn't a lick of remorse for the decimated unrecognizable corpse he left behind. But for you? It was unfathomable tragedy. "...I'm...I'm so sorry Sunshine." Jack breathes shakily as he tends to your wound.

Your purse your lips and clench your jaw as prickles of pain erupt from his helpful handiwork. "No, you don't have anything to apologize for...you told me to get self defense stuff. I should have been quicker on the draw." You want to stay strong, you want this to roll off your back but your chest feels tight and your mouth feels bone dry. "...did...did anything happen? To me?" You're so afriad to ask but you're entirely unsure. You feel fine. Your clothes aren't fucked up. But you don't know what happened or how long you were out for.

"Oh no, no no no, Sunbeam. Nothing else happened to you." Jack answers quickly, and you know he's telling the truth. His hands fall from your hair to rub your shoulders with his large hands, thumbs pressing along the back of your neck the way you like.

"What did happen?" You ask quietly and Jack stalls for a moment, a mere second, that you thankfully don't seem to take notice of. Jack thinks back to the sight he left behind. Hands broken, crushed as bone splintered through the fleshy digits. Skull caved in, face brutalized into the interior under the hood that was pressed down impossibly tight. Those eye tho, Jack had made sure to rid of those though, that had been the first item on the list. Gruesome, sure but attacking you was an unforgivable act.

Leaning down, Jack peppers you with delicate kisses, his scent replacing the sterilized smell of rubbing alcohol and medicinal ointment as arms move to hug you to him from behind. "Nothing happened, Sunshine. Nothing you have to fret about. I'll keep you safe. I promise."

#somethings wrong with sunny day jack #there's something wrong with sunny day jack #theres something wrong with sunny time jack #something's wrong with sunny day jack #sunny day jack #tswwsdj #swwsdj #sdj x reader #sunny day jack x reader #sdj

[desperatelyseekingcannibals]

a little Halloween treat...

Laid To Rest (ChillyWilly and Hannigram S4) - Shortfic

Explicit // M/M // Will Graham/Hannibal Lecter, Will Graham/Frederick Chilton // Tags: Crack almost treated seriously, Season 4, Cuba, Chilton is dead, Chilton is a ghost, ghosts, Haunting, sexual molestation (by a ghost), non-con becomes dub-con becomes con, wet dreams, blow jobs, hand jobs, fantasies, cuckolding, purposefully mixed POVs, riding, anal sex, jealousy, possessiveness, Chilton is finally laid... to rest. Patreon prompt fill.

TW: This is a light hearted and ridiculous story, however the initial interactions between sleeping Will and ghost Chilton are non-consensual and may be something some readers might wish to avoid. 

Hannibal and Will are being haunted by the ghost of Frederick Chilton, there's only one way to lay him to rest.

Laid To Rest (3.6k words):

Will woke in a cold sweat, sitting up in bed in a way that twisted the sheets around him and pulled a grumble from Hannibal.

He panted as he tried to focus on the room but it was too dark to make out much. There was nothing there, he knew. Despite his hard cock straining at the sensation that he must have imagined. If Hannibal wasn’t clearly so fast asleep beside him, he might have believed his lover was trying to wake him with a blowjob.

He groaned and pressed his hand down on his crotch. It was that faceless figure again. Or not faceless but obscured, just beyond his reach, like he wasn’t quite real. And it was a he, and it was, Will knew, someone he had known. He might not be able to clearly see who the person is, but he could feel him. A smugness and void of charm that persisted after death.

“Will?” Hannibal mumbled and reached for him and Will took his hand, squeezed it and then got up from the bed. He needed a shower, a cold one. And then he’d cuddle back up to Hannibal and hope to get back to sleep.

*

“Are we going to talk about it?” Hannibal asked over breakfast.

Will would have sniped that he didn’t know what Hannibal was talking about, but given that they shared a bed, it was difficult to hide anything from his once therapist.

“Not if you’re going to go all psychologist on me,” Will replied before forking eggs into his mouth.

“You’re not sleeping. This is the sixth time you’ve had a disturbed night in the last two weeks,” When Will continued to eat rather than replying Hannibal continued. “If it’s nightmares, Will, it may help to discuss--”

Will shook his head, about to protest that they weren’t nightmares. But what were they?

If he was honest, he wasn’t sure they were even dreams. Not that he was trying to ignore that they might be wet dreams, even if nightmarish due to the subject involved. It was more that it felt so real.

“It’s not nightmares,” Will finally said. “I don’t know…”

He felt discombobulated by the whole thing, he didn’t even have words to describe it. But if he couldn’t discuss it with Hannibal, who could he discuss it with? And after several nights of this, he really needed to tell someone.

“You’re going to think I’m crazy.”

Hannibal raised a brow, “Crazy is not a word I use without caution. What makes you think you are crazy, Will?” His tone had slipped into his familiar therapist manner.

“They don’t feel like dreams,” Will replied quickly, “whatever it is, it feels real.”

“Dreams can often feel very real. The same parts of the brain that are active when we are awake are also active when we are in certain stages of our sleep,” Hannibal took the hint from Will’s expression and instead then asked, “And what happens in these not-dreams?”

Will swallowed and focused on Hannibal intently then, giving him a look.

With some amusement, Hannibal’s lips tweaked into a small smile, “Something of a sexual nature? Will, it is quite normal for men of any age to have--”

Will waved a hand dismissively, “If I was just having, um, night emissions, do you think I’d be so concerned? It’s not about what happens… what I do… It’s about what is done to me.”

Hannibal frowns at that and his concern is obvious, “Please explain.”

“In the night, I feel like… it’s like someone is there. A third person in our room… touching me. Sexually.”

“I see,” Hannibal’s tone and expression were dark and for a moment, dark enough that it sent a chill up Will’s spine.

Continue on AO3

#hannibal lecter #hannibal #will graham #hannirgam #myfic #fanfic #hannibal fanfiction #chillywilly #frederick chilton #hanniween2023

[albatmobile]

The Art of Rehabilitating Snowbirds Chapter 12

𓅪 After not hearing from Roy or Jason for five years, you suddenly find yourself taking in extra income as a babysitter for Roy and Jason's child.

𓅪 Rated: E | TW: panic attacks, frottage | 9.3k includes: continuation from chapter 10 the joker attack at the Wayne gala, attention from Timmy, light smut with Dami (not what i planned on writing at all lmao), lots of love + comfort from jayroy

fem!Reader x Jason Todd x Roy Harper [masterlist]

Chapter 12: Waste | ao3 - wattpad

THEN

You were held in an unrelenting grip as the Joker advanced on you, slowly filling the thick syringe with the neon green liquid he'd pulled from the briefcase.

“This should only hurt a lot,” He warned with a cryptic smile. “It’ll be fun. Well, for me, that is- probably not so much for you, though, dear. Oh well, such is life!” 

He filled the syringe and wasted no time in planting it into your bare arm, causing you to scream as the vile substance pulsated sickeningly in your veins as if dancing in tandem with your rapidly increasing pulse. 

Just when you thought all hope was lost, Nightwing swooped in out of nowhere just as your head began to swim from the toxic green that was now coursing through your veins. 

Through the haze of the toxin, you were still able to question why he’d even be patrolling in Gotham anyway, but were quickly pulled back to the present. Was this really the time to be thinking about that? 

You chided yourself for your frivolous thoughts, choking on calming breaths while attempting to focus on something, anything, in the room to anchor you back to reality. It was in vain. The chaos in the room was too much to ignore as your eyes bounced around the room as Nightwing, Batman and Robin bounced from henchman to henchman, knocking them out in quick succession. It was erratic; it was violent; it was overbearingly loud. 

You couldn't catch your breath. You couldn't breathe.

You coughed, then spurted out a forceful giggle that soon turned into a crackling cackle that eerily cut through the chaos of the entire ballroom.

Your eyes darted around helplessly at the socialites, unable to cease your maniacal laughter. You gurgled and choked on the spit that had pooled in your mouth in the process, clutching desperately at your sides in a fruitless attempt to soothe the steadfast stress that strained at your ribs. Your lungs burned in exertion from the force and frequency of your uncontrollable wheezing. Your head soon began to pound as the pressure built up from the never-ending, exponential intensity. 

Suddenly, your laughter turned to shrieks as Joker’s distorted, Cheshire-like grin came into full view.

What exactly had he injected you with?

You tried to cover your mouth, but it did nothing to stop the fit that raged on. New twisted effects from the injection settled over your warped tunnel vision. You trembled, bringing your arms around your chest as you began to rock yourself back and forth. 

The shadows in the room were closing in on you. The only clear image you could make out was Joker’s vile, decrepit smile that seemed to follow you no matter if your eyes were open or not. 

Sweat dripped from your bleeding face down to the goosebumps that littered your arms. All you could do was rock as the wailing laughter continued to singe your vocal cords. 

Then, there was darkness.

“Say-feeee.” Your head snapped up in the direction of the dark, rumbled voice in front of you, only to scuttle backward as a sinister-looking shadow settled in front of you. 

Somewhere deep in your discombobulated mind, you surmised it must be Batman. However, the horrific-looking bat-like creature in front of you bore no resemblance to the man you’d seen fighting mere moments ago nor any of the comics you’d read.

His face seemed to drip and spill over with black maggot-like creatures falling to the blood-stained floor with every movement of his gory, rotten mouth.

It was certainly no Batman.

“GET AWAY FROM ME!” You shrieked, clawing at your eyes in a vain attempt to rid yourself of the nightmarish visions that cursed your sight. “AGH!” You collapsed to the floor into the fetal position. It didn't even cross your fear-altered mind that it left you in a completely vulnerable state to the chilling creature in front of you. “GET AWAY! GET AWAY!”

You gasped desperately for air, but no amount you sucked in was enough to quench your drought-dried lungs.

“Get up,” This voice was normal compared to the other ones you’d been hearing. 

You lifted your head from your chest as you came face-to-face with your mom and dad.

“No,” You shook your head in disbelief, “No, no, no.” You kept shaking your head in an unhinged manner as you faced the sickly green mist that enveloped your parents. Their toxic fog tickled at your skin with every step closer they took. “LEAVE ME ALONE. LEAVE ME ALONE, GET OUT OF MY HEAD!” You let out an anguished wail. “GET OUT, GET OUT, GET OUT.”

Your throat was completely raw, hardly making any noise at that point as you desperately clawed at the floor to get away from their steadily approaching forms. Although they were slightly warped, their bodies were significantly more intact than that of Batman or the Joker, making it somewhat scarier in your panicked state. 

“Ground yourself,” Your mother’s mouth opened, but the voice had clearly come from a younger man. “Find your anchor.”

“Anchor.” You repeated dazedly as you focused all of your remaining energy on the colorful kaleidoscope of a person in front of you. Somewhere deep in your panicked state, you realized it was Robin and leaned slightly into his touch, enough for him to rappel you away from the chaos of the scene below. You arched into Robin’s hold as you fought off the remaining tendrils of terror that remained from the injection as he met up with another young male voice you could hardly make out. 

“I’ve never seen it wear off this fast.”

“There were two syringes. I didn’t give him the chance to finish off the dosage.”

“Dosage, or some twisted experiment?”

“Where do we take her?” The voices sounded like they were coming from a tunnel, but with the warm grasp you were held in, you knew it was coming from right in front of you. “You need to go back, but I need to keep up appearances for her sake.” He stops suddenly, “Where did Jason go?” 

You perked up slightly at the familiar name.

“What do you mean?” You felt the other boy stop briefly beside Robin. 

“He and the Joker don’t need to be in the same vicinity, you know that. Bruce banished him to the cave, but I could have sworn I saw him next to you.”

The other voice hesitates just slightly, “No.”

“You mean to tell me he actually stayed in the cave then?”

There’s no hesitation this time, “Of course.”

“Good.”

They continued to chat while you were moved to a quieter location. Your consciousness continued to slip in and out as your body gave out under the extreme stress you’d just experienced.

You were jostled around for a moment, then left in stillness for what felt like hours, but was most likely minutes, as whoever remained in the room waited for you to further come to. When your vision stopped spinning in a nauseating manner, you noticed Alfred was already waiting with medical supplies and a change of clothes for you. You looked around, slightly panicked at the unfamiliar room you were in, but Alfred remained calm as he addressed your wounds.

“We are in Master Timothy’s room, Miss,” Alfred said your name with a gentle kindness that slowly began to dethaw your battered heart.

He helped you into Tim’s messy bathroom, where you were finally able to get a good look at the damage. You couldn’t help but gasp at the atrocious sight of your reflection that you’re met with in the mirror.

Your eye was already puffy and swollen, with clear ooze dripping from it. Meanwhile, your cheeks were reminiscent of a cartoon chipmunk, though they were both stained by the imprint of Joker’s hand in a bright red mark that stuck out against the color of your skin in a sickly manner. You choked back tears, if only to save your head from further pounding and dehydration.

You didn’t even know what kind of mark Joker had left on your throat, seeing as it was obscured by a thin veil of drying blood, preventing any further inspection. Though you were able to see that your one nice dress was as good as ruined.

Alfred gently pulled your attention away from your disgraceful appearance and began to goad at your wound as delicately as he could. You cried, anyway. Not even necessarily from the pain but from the aftershock of what had transpired. It was as if all the fear, pain and embarrassment came flooding out of you in a pathetic, fervorous deluge.

You weren’t quite sure you liked comics anymore, you thought bitterly to yourself as Alfred finished cleaning and left to get gauze and a roll of compression bandages. 

You took his absence as an opportunity to view the gash in its full glory. You imagined a deep set cut that staggered jarringly across your neck, but what met you was even more horrifying. Your mouth instantly turned downward at the appalling sight that met you.

He had skinned the top layer of your neck into an off-centered, inverted triangle that was still trickling pathetically down to your collarbones in a lazy river of crimson.

“Miss,” Alfred called your attention back to him as he reemerged. ”It’d be best not to look.”

Too late, you thought as the gory image had already cemented itself in your brain. 

You allowed Alfred to finish his patch job when you heard a slight rustling from the next room. You straightened, realizing Tim had been there the entire time. You struggled to feign indifference so as not to worry anyone. You refused to be a burden to them any more than you already were.

You emerged dully, resting your entire weight on a cane Alfred gifted you. You were wearing a hoodie and a pair of sweats he’d left on the bathroom counter for you. A quick whiff of the wooded scent emanating from them told you they most likely belonged to Jason.

Tim’s room was messy, littered with empty coffee mugs and open books filled with pages upon pages of loose leaves sticking out at off angles from the confines of the pages. His wall space was mainly taken up by cryptic words and locations with strings attaching them to different words and pictures like some sort of crazed conspiracy theorist.

“You’re like The Question, Timmy,” Your voice lacked its usual animatedness.

Tim quickly came to your side to help you sit on his bed as Alfred quietly shut the door behind him.

“You know, you don’t have to lighten the mood." Still, Tim managed a half-hearted chuckle, though he never once stopped looking at you with deep concern. "What you just went through was, well, for lack of better words… intense.” 

We thought we’d lose you doesn’t quite make it off the tongue, but you already knew he was thinking it. 

Hell, you’d been thinking it, too. 

Unwarranted memories from moments ago flooded back into your head as if a dam had broken. 

“That’s definitely one way to put it,” You agreed.

Your hand came up to touch the bandage Alfred had secured around your neck, only to wince when you accidentally brushed your fingers against it. A steady stream of tears followed soon after, stinging tauntingly at the corners of your black eye as they trickled down to your swollen cheeks.

Tim said your name softly as he wrapped you in a secure grip, “I’m so sorry.” 

You couldn’t hold back the few trembling tears his apology stirred within you as you let yourself melt into his embrace. You clutched him as if he was the last thing tying you to reality until you suddenly stopped, looking up at him with urgency.

“Where are the others?”

Tim lightly rubbed your back in an attempt to calm you, “Everyone’s safe.”

“No one else got hurt?” 

You tried to remember what had happened, but after you’d been injected, everything became so muddled.

“Scratches compared to you,” Tim said your name lightly and helped you onto his bed. “I know you must be tired.”

You sniffled in response, “Aren’t there other people still here, too?” 

Were Joker and his henchmen still here?

“Police rounded them up pretty quickly and hauled them off to Arkham with Batman’s help. Party dissolved pretty much as soon as the cops arrived.”

You relaxed slightly and laid down, “Will you stay with me, Tim?”

“Of course,” He answered without hesitation.

Tears swelled once again, knowing that you needed to sleep, but were entirely scared of the images you’d undoubtedly face when you closed your eyes. 

You couldn’t do that alone.

Tim seemed to understand but kept his space as he lay down to face you.

You closed your eyes and immediately flinched as his sinister grin smacked into the forefront of your mind. Your eyes snapped open in an instant as you fruitlessly attempted to rid yourself of the image. 

You sniffled again at the realization you wouldn’t be getting an ounce of sleep after the horror show you’d witnessed from the front row. 

Tim moved to wrap his arms around you as the tears spilled endlessly from your puffy eyes. Puffy both on account of crying and from the black eye you’d acquired on the one side. It made it extremely painful, which only made you cry harder. 

Your throat was wrecked, your voice hollow and feeble. All Tim could do was hold you as you wept yourself into a frenzy until all the remaining energy drained from your body, shutting you down into a nightmarish, half-conscious sleep.

You awoke with a jolt as Joker’s heinous laugh cut through your blurry dreams, leaving you to tug at the overbearing pressure of the wrap around your neck in terror.

It fucking burned.

You hissed as you searched the room frantically, noting Tim’s absence from beside to you, only to find Damian sitting on the end of the bed asleep. 

You shifted on the bed, watching as his eyes immediately opened and locked onto yours. 

“You’re safe,” He said quietly. 

You swallowed what little moisture you had in your mouth, wincing as it scratched its way down your throat. 

“Where did Tim go?” Last thing you remembered, you’d been... You blushed at the memory of him holding you so close. 

Damian sneered, “I’m here now, so what does it matter?” 

“I can see that,” You flopped back down to lay on Tim’s bed which smelled faintly of laundry detergent. “What’s going to happen?” 

It was somewhat of a vulnerable question. How were you supposed to continue on after such a cacophonous terror when you were being suffocated by the silence of peace?

Was there even peace yet? 

“You can stay here,” He wouldn’t look at you anymore, so you closed your eyes and focused on calming your breathing. 

“Whatever,” You didn’t have enough energy to deal with Damian’s possessive bullshit. You pushed aside his pettiness to attempt to quell the pounding in your head as you replayed everything you’d so blissfully forgotten in your few hours of sleep.

Damian got up silently and left, sensing your shitty mood, “I’ll be downstairs if you need me.” 

You turned over on Tim’s bed in response. 

You could be petty too. 

You eventually hobbled, read: scooted, down the stairs and into the dining room where breakfast had already been cleared, but a plate had been left out for you.

The pressure on your legs, even with the cane, had your face twisted up in a constant wince. Every foot or so, you were forced to stop to catch yourself on the walls. When you rounded the corner, you forced yourself to pull it somewhat together. 

You weren’t fucking fragile, after all.

You swallowed your pain and pride as Alfred helped you sit. You couldn’t help but wince at the painful stretching feeling you felt each time you swallowed. After you’d eaten your fill, the older man changed your bandages with the same tentative care he held from the previous night. Meanwhile, Bruce let you know you could stay as long as you liked and even insisted you stay a night longer at the very least, something you agreed to easily. 

You tried to ignore the itching feeling from Jason’s seething glare as he focused on the aftermath of what Joker did to you for the first time, but it was impossible to ignore its searing heat. You gulped under the attention that could be explained in no other way than, well, downright murderous. 

He sidled up to you protectively after everyone, save Damian, had cleared out. From there, he lifted up your chin to finish his inspection up close. Your breath hitched unwittingly as his own fanned across your bandage, where a light bout of blood had already seeped through a portion of the bandage.

“He will pay.” 

It was a promise you somehow believed.

He hesitated as if he wanted to say more, but Damian’s perturbed presence refused to be ignored any longer. 

Jason gave you one final pitiful glance before leaving the mansion entirely. 

When you looked over to Damian, his gaze was pointedly fixed on the closed doors ahead.

•

That night, Damian insisted that, if you’d been scared enough to ask for Tim the previous night, you should sleep in his bed instead of the air mattress. You weren’t willing to put up a fight, so you climbed onto his bed and faced his direction, if only to shut up his possessive ass so you could both just go to sleep. It's not like you would get much anyway, with the memories of yesterday constantly bubbling to the surface every time you closed your eyes.

You had just gotten comfortable in Damian’s deliciously spicy scented sheets when he spoke again. “Maybe this time you won’t sneak away in the night to another man like a harlot.” 

You gasped at his audacity and pushed against his shoulder, “What the actual fuck is wrong with you?” He shoved a socked foot into your stomach, causing you to curl into a ball of pain that soon spurred a wretched pain in your legs. “I get kidnapped and knifed by the Joker and you’re more concerned about whose bed I’m in?” At that point, you were beyond pissed as you clutched your stomach and added it to the long list of injuries you already had.

And, damn, Damian could kick fucking hard.

You shoved the heavy duvet off of the two of you to tackle him, mainly relying on the weight of your arms to do so.

In the dark, you could practically see his boredom with your attack as he counter-shifted your weight on his lap to flip you over and gently held you against the bare sheets. 

“What are you doing?” He asked, his monotone voice giving nothing away nothing, but the arousal in his pants said everything you needed to know. 

“What are you doing, Damian?” 

“Like you don’t already know,” He hissed your last name and released the hold on your arms in an instant. He remained on top of you with a heavy-lidded gaze that you assumed was supposed to be seductive, but it felt somewhat odd from his soft face. Damian was very attractive, you couldn’t deny it, but you were still very much hung up on the whole Joker situation. Hell, it was all that replayed in your head. “I’m sorry,” Damian saw the slight hesitancy in your eyes. He swiftly and weightlessly shifted to the side you had originally laid on as you'd swapped spots in all the excitement. “I understand if you want to sleep somewhere else.” 

You looked at Damian whose body faced the window, allowing you to see the dark outline of his silhouette. Finally, you sighed and picked up the duvet off the floor to throw it over the two of you. 

“I…” You started but didn’t actually have an idea where that thought was going, “Never mind.” You scooted closer to Damian with your heart fluttering madly against your chest. You didn’t know if you’d regret this or not and, chances are, you would, but you continued anyway. “Damian,” You whispered as you curled yourself against his back, “I don’t know what you want from me.” 

It was the truth. 

He grew stiff at your tentative contact. 

“I could easily say the same of you.” Damian relaxed into you somewhat, so you began to run your fingers up and down his side lightly, “Tell me what you want.” 

Your heart stopped. 

Were you both crossing the line? Was there even a line to cross at this point? 

He turned to face you, seemingly unsure of the movement. 

“Kiss me,” You blushed as you voiced exactly what you thought you needed, or maybe it was what you thought he wanted. “Damian,” You whispered as you both came face to face. 

His warm breath fanned across your lips while his unsure gaze met your own. 

You closed your eyes first as you leaned in and closed the remaining space. 

Your first kiss was chaste, almost unsure, as you both felt out the situation through the rage of your prepubescent hormones and naivety. 

You allowed the pressure of his lips against yours, almost like a test, waiting to see who would take it further than just a peck. 

You thought back to his bulge from earlier and felt slightly tinglely as you clenched down in arousal. Ultimately, it was you who began to glide your lips slowly and experimentally over Damian’s. He soon followed suit, mimicking your actions carefully. His hand that had been clenched in the blanket trickled up the side of your thigh all the way to the dip of your waist. 

You let out a quiet moan at the contact, which Damian used to slip his tongue into your opened mouth shyly. You deepened the kiss by sucking on the tip of his tongue as you pushed Damian flat and mounted him with unrelenting lips, teeth clacking together painfully in the process.

You went to apologize but heard him groan below you as you accidentally ground down on his erection. You fekt yourself respond in kind when a slickness overtook and seeped through your thin PJ shorts. Damian’s light blue boxers were similarly darkened by his precome. 

You both stared at each other with wild eyes, then back down at Damian’s tented boxers. The awkwardness reminded you of when you first met him, when the majority of your time together had been spent sitting in silence until you both figured each other out. 

After this, though, you weren’t sure you’d ever truly understood each other if this was the outcome of him comforting you. It was too much and not enough at the same time, which only spurred the heat in your lower abdomen. You continued your onslaught of licking and nipping into the kiss, letting him take you. 

It was a mess of fumbling, accidental touches, awkward noises and, ultimately, pent-up emotions. Neither of you lasted long with your combined inexperience. You were both sent over the edge at a particular onslaught of coordinated strokes that left you both in a panting heap of body fluids.

He only allowed you to bask in the aftermath of… whatever the fuck that had been before he ruined it.

“I’m training you tomorrow. Cane or no cane, you need to learn how to defend yourself even when injured.” 

You hesitated at the idea, but he left no room for debate as you settled in the afterglow with a languid nod. You sighed, knowing you shouldn’t have expected any less from Damian’s tragic pillow talk.

He got off the bed, ushering you into the bathroom, where he helped you clean up. After, he handed you your Catwoman undies you’d packed and forgotten about in the haze of the last 24 hours. 

You thanked him and put the fresh pair on while he did the same. 

“Now go to sleep,” He waved you off. You couldn’t help but chuckle as you hopped back into his bed. Once you settled in, Damian finally let a whining Titus back in the room, where the mutt soon curled up at your feet, with Damian joining soon after. Your friend held you close, spooning you from behind, “Don’t get drool on my Egyptian Cotton.” 

“Please,” You pressed yourself firmly against Damian’s sensitive front, “you’d be so lucky.” 

He smacked the side of your hip to hush you up. 

You felt his breathing even out and somehow find it within yourself to do that same. 

•

Joker's men surrounded you in marching lines of clown masks that stared blankly ahead, leaving you with an uneasy feeling as you watched them get closer and closer to…

Him.

It’s a maniacal and grotesque version of Batman, slathered in Joker’s face paint.

No.

You shook your head and tried to run in the opposite direction, but the lines of henchmen wouldn’t budge, no matter how hard you tried to break through their barricade.

“HELP ME!” You screamed as your eyes darted around the room, only to be smacked to the ground in a pathetic heap. You easily became overpowered by the masses.

You couldn’t get up. 

You were about to come face to face with the Joker-fied Batman when Damian shook you from your panicked dream. 

You were brought back to consciousness just in time to hear the last dregs of your scream. Your throat was left dry and hoarse, leaving Damian to bring a cup of water to your lips for you to sip at. Each gulp stretched your delicate skin taught, leaving a stinging burn in the wake of the offending movement. 

Somehow, the second day was so much worse than the day after the attack had been. The mental wear that had been bogging you down for the past 24 hours had somehow impacted your physical pain to the point that it was now almost unbearable.

Tim, who Damian noted was fresh off patrol, came to check on you after he’d heard your scream. Much to Damian’s chagrin, he also offered for you to sleep in his room, considering he got as much sleep as a bullfrog. 

You were still half in your dream, half in reality, something Damian could tell as your eyes seemed to have a hard time focusing when Tim came further into the room. He helped Damian calm you for mere moments, only to stop suddenly.

Damian eyed him curiously, only to smirk when he noticed what his gaze had been fixated on: your slick-sullied panties. He truly looked like the cat that got the cream and Tim wasted no time in turning around and leaving without another word. His departure was something you hardly noticed in your frazzled state.

Damian left to grab you a set of clothes, helping you into them when he returned with delicate yet firm precision. Your head was pounding, but you forced yourself to focus on his methodical movements rather than the remnants of hysteria that plagued your mind. He brought your cane to you, helping you bear your weight to hobble downstairs to the breakfast table where the entire Wayne family sat with filled plates already sitting in front of them.

You tried to do what you’d done the day prior- pull yourself together before they could notice, but it was fruitless. You were in too much pain, exponentially so, ever since waking up from your nightmare.

No, not a nightmare, you corrected yourself, a memory.

At your not-so-quiet moans of pain, everyone’s attention quickly shifted from Alfred’s insane-smelling breakfast to you.

Jason came to your aid without a word, grabbing your free hand as you struggled down the final few stairs with Damian on the other side. He wrapped a steady, yet possessive, arm around your waist to support your remaining unsteady weight, but not before glaring at Jason in the process. 

Jason returned his glare tenfold as they guided you to the table and fought to pull out your chair, nearly leaving you to topple over at the sudden lack of support. They quickly rectified their hold on you as Jason won out against Damian and pulled out your chair first.

Damian tch’ed irritably as he watched Jason help you sit, seeming to coddle you obnoxiously just to spite him, though you still blushed nonetheless.

Dick and Babs greeted you with matching, pitying smiles. You winced, watching as the corners of their mouths twitched downward momentarily before feigning the original sentiment again, almost in unison. It would’ve been comical had you not already been under the intense scrutiny of the already very intense Wayne family.

“Are you doing alright after everything?” Dick kindly asked.

You raised an eyebrow in response as you fiddled with your toast, deciding to answer honestly, “I thought I was going to claw my eyeballs out. That, or kill myself before I got the chance to.”

At the awkward silence that followed, Tim coughed into his hand, drawing everyone’s attention.

“Oh,” Dick trailed off dumbly.

You sighed, not meaning to be so harsh, but damn, you really didn’t want to talk about this right now. 

“Just glad to still be intact, I guess,” You tried a light smile, but it was obvious it’d been forced. “I’m not trying to be a… well.” You gestured to him. “But it was honestly the most terrifying thing I’ve ever experienced. No scary movie will evercome close to that shi-stuff that happened.” 

You eyed Alfred warily, though he kindly pretended not to notice your slip-up.

“You did get to see Batman, though. That’s something. He’s one of your favorites, right?” Tim tried to lighten the mood, but the name only produced terrifying images of the melting man-bat creature that you’d met in the middle of your fear-induced state.

“I don’t think I like comics anymore.” You said in lieu of a response, forcing your gaze back down to your plate. You soon sighed, realizing that your appetite had all but diminished at the memory. Part of you wished they would stop talking to you, that they would ignore you like your actual family did, but with everyone's gazes still very much fixated on your hunched-over form, you realized it wasn’t going to happen.

How could they when you looked so decrepit?

It was quiet for a moment and you wondered if you should leave to salvage their family breakfast from your soured mood. Before you could even consider the pain of getting up and leaving on your own, Alfred changed the subject.

“There was quite the ruckus last night in your room, Master Damian.” He tutted lightly as he picked up his silverware. “An old man like me surely shouldn’t have such pristine hearing as I do.”

Bruce’s calculating eyes met your own and you gave a genuine, weak smile in return.

“It was probably me. I’ve still been having a lot of nightmares,” You played the Joker card, figuratively, but Bruce and Alfred seemed to know better. 

You blushed.

You glanced over to Damian, who was busy picking at his eggs with the back of his fork, seemingly uninterested in the topic entirely. Meanwhile, Tim, for some reason, appeared too red not to have known what had happened, but you couldn’t help but wonder how.

“No way!” You resisted the urge to look up at Dick’s sudden outburst, “Please tell me my favorite sleep shirt survived.”

You choked on your spit, not having expected anything like that to come from his mouth because it had definitely been torn to shreds in the whole ordeal.

“I called it!” He and Barbara snickered, high-fiving under the table before he realized what it meant and frowned, “It’s definitely a goner, then...”

Jason seemed completely preoccupied reading Anna Karinena and sipping his coffee to respond, though you knew he’d come to the same conclusion as everyone else. You didn’t know why it bothered you so much that he wasn’t bothered, but it did. Especially after your intimate moment in the garden and, hell, after being someone you considered a best friend, you’d think he’d care a bit fucking more.

Your gaze quickly retreated downward, following suit with Damian as you forced yourself to focus back on your plate. You awkwardly picked at the hash browns on your plate while you waited for everyone’s attention to leave you. 

“How are you feeling?” Jason swiftly changed the topic again, something you were extremely grateful for. 

“Really sore and achy. It’s been really hard to sleep, too,” You admitted. “Plus, there’s no way I can go to school looking like this. Everyone already has enough problems with me as it is.”

“What does that mean?” You unwittingly cowered at the slight edge evident in Bruce’s voice and painfully gulped down the bite you’d taken as your eyes met his once again.

“I’m only here on scholarship,” You shrugged as if it explained everything because, well, really, it did. “Because of you, I guess. So, thanks.”

You’d been the only person to get a full-ride Wayne Scholarship to Gotham Academy in seven years, meaning you were, quite literally, the poorest person at the school and everyone knew it.

You thought Bruce would already know, but he seemed blissfully ignorant, leaving you to groan inwardly. Surprise, you were poor. Imagine that, Bruce. You thought slightly bitterly as you looked around the lavish dining room filled with his loving family, where your own home was empty and cold. 

“You should be extremely proud of yourself then,” You just barely stopped your jaw from dropping at the first bout of parental praise you’d ever received. “Try not to let them get to you too much.”

“I don’t care,” You shot him a grateful smile, “they’re all trust fund babies, anyway. No offense Mr. Wayne,” You hesitated before nodding to your tanned friend, “Damian.”

“Is that right?” Bruce chuckled lightly at your humorous babble. “Well, if they give you any more trouble, you know where my office is.”

You couldn't miss the thinly veiled threat but chose to brush it off.

“Considering they’d probably shit their pants, I might actually take you up on that offer- oh!” You sheepishly looked over at the older man, “Sorry, Alfred.”

“Quite alright, Miss,” He said your name. “But I do believe I’ll be collecting a quarter from you now.”

You jokingly felt at your pockets, “Does anyone actually carry change on them anymore?”

“I do!” You and Jason rolled your eyes in unison as Dick sprung upward with a quarter grasped proudly in his grip. 

Of course, Dick would. 

Dick tossed the coin into the air in a way that arched directly into Alfred’s expectant hand. “I believe your debt has been paid. Do try to keep from any further cursing to prevent any further charges.”

“But how else are we going to get to Disneyland?” You asked innocently.

Jason snorted, Damian tch’ed and Babs and Dick collectively lost their shit. 

You’d managed to rid your mind of the cruelties of the gala, if only briefly. Your depleted energy and aching pain, however, brought you back to the present.

It was as if a flip had switched. You were joking and laughing one moment and then the next, all you could think about was him.

Joker.

“Little bird,” You look up, confused at Jason’s voice and nickname, wondering if he'd meant you. You get your answer when you see him staring directly at you. 

You gulped. He’d never called you that before. His new nickname for you definitely had drawn you from your spiraling thoughts, you noted with gratitude.

“Don’t call her that,” Damian’s face scrunched up in disgust.

Bruce shifted the conversation, sensing the impending pissing contest brewing between the two brothers.

“After you heal, it might be helpful for you to learn more from their hostage courses,” Bruce said as he looked over your wounds carefully.

“Don’t worry, father. I’m training her today,” Damian toned proudly from beside you.

“No way,” The rest of the Waynes objected at the same time.

You could barely stand only your own without needing your cane, let alone kick and punch without any support. Nope, no way, it wouldn’t be possible.

“Pathetic,” Damian muttered, but your mind flashed back to Joker taunting you with that same word until it was all you could see.

“Hey!” You were drawn from your thoughts to Jason’s tender gaze. “Where’d you go?”

Somehow, Jason always seemed to psychically know when you were spiraling and knew exactly what to say to get you out of your head. 

Everyone, of course, knew exactly where it had gone. It went without saying, so you went back to staring at your plate, hoping to summon the hunger to want to eat but knowing it was futile.

Eventually, breakfast wound down and everyone slowly began to scatter. Jason offered to stay behind and take over Alfred-duties as Bruce called Damian and Tim away. 

Dick and Babs hung around a bit longer to help Alfred with the dirty dishes but headed out just before Roy showed up.

You’d yet to move from the seat that Jason had helped you into earlier when the redhead happened upon your motley crew. It’s not like you could move in general, let alone move to greet Roy. You'd forgotten just how difficult everyday tasks had become.

You watched Roy take in the damage as Jason finally helped you out of your chair.

You looked away, embarrassed at the pitiful gaze the redhead shot in your direction, but looked up when you felt his presence move closer. He wordlessly helped Jason adjust his hold on you to get a more secure grip for you to lean into as you wobbled to stand. You quickly felt yourself crumbling down and wrapped your arms around Jason’s neck in a last-ditch effort to remain upright.

“Uh,” You blushed, refusing to meet Roy’s tantalizing green eyes before ultimately asking for his help. “You think you could hand me that cane over there?”

Jason had originally placed it near your chair for convenience but had moved it further away when you needed to get up to get a better angle. Now, he was too busy holding you up around your waist to bear your weight to be able to grab it without having to set you down and start over from square one.

His eyes never stopped raking over you as he took in your weakened state, “Sure thing, princess.” 

“Please don’t call me that right now," An embarrassed flush spilled across your swollen cheeks before you could stop it, "I look like an abomination.”

“Don’t say that,” Jason hissed, jerking his head in a way that forced you to look at him. “Please don’t say that,” He whispered your name like it physically pained him to hear you talk in such a manner.

“Jay,” Roy rubbed at Jason’s back, but Jason brushed him off distractedly, gritting his teeth as he did. 

“He’s the abomination, not you,” Jason’s eyes locked onto your eyes in a fit of anger you’d only seen once before upon your first meeting, “and it will never be you. Ever.”

You nodded at his sheer intensity alone but still didn’t necessarily agree. After all, neither of them had actually seen your scar yet.

Roy grabbed the cane in one hand before coming behind you to trap the two of you in a group hug. You swayed at the initial brunt of contact before gratefully leaning into them. Eventually, he moved to shoulder your weight before you could even complain about being squished between the two of them. 

Roy seemed to take in the logistics of the situation as he released you and Jason from the confines of his bear hug. “Would it be okay if we just carried you?” 

You shrugged. Fuck it.

It hurt more and more each time you tried to walk, even though Alfred assured you all they were just bruised. Nothing to worry about, apparently, but the pain was killing you nonetheless.

Jason placed one arm around your back and the other arm around the bend of your weak knees, leaving you to tighten your hold around his shoulders as he lifted you off the ground. He carried you to his room, with Roy following behind with your cane.

They gently placed you on Jason’s bed with your legs dangling off of it. You blushed when you looked up to see the two of them looking down at you and couldn't help but imagine a very different scenario in your head. 

“What are you thinking about, little bird?”

You swiftly rid yourself of your dirty thoughts, “How I don’t want to be alone.” 

Even though you’d just been imagining them naked, it wasn’t any less true. 

“You won’t have to be,” Roy reassured you. “You have us.”

You nodded. 

You were truly grateful to his entire family and Roy for being with you throughout it all. If it hadn’t been for them, you’d be facing this entirely alone and you weren’t sure you’d be able to handle it. 

Jason produced the medical kit Alfred had left on the dining table and quickly started to clean at the smaller scrapes you’d received. Meanwhile, Roy laid you down to elevate your legs. He left for a brief moment before coming back and placing a few ice packs on the black bruises that littered the expanse of your calves. It was only when Roy settled onto the bed next to you that Jason seemed to muster up enough courage to unwrap the bandage around your neck, though he did so methodically. You felt the last tugs against your skin and, soon enough, the fabric draped across your chest and spilled onto your lap as Jason and Roy came face-to-face with the gory aftermath of the Joker.

Jason’s face went from shocked to blank, then to barely contained rage. Roy’s remained shocked, if not saddened.

It was a grisly-looking thing. 

Certain parts had been dug into deeper, leaving a seeping flow of red and pus that Jason gently mopped up with a clean cloth. Each swipe stung, leaving an emanating heat that locked in the pain with a greenhouse-like effect that left you shifting in distress. 

“I’m sorry, babe,” Jason cooed as he repeated the motions carefully. “I’m so sorry.”

One particular dab at an especially carved part left you crying out in pain. Jason quickly removed his hand, but the damage had been done, it seemed. He left the room without another word, slamming the door on his way out.

You winced at the resounding bang and shared a wary look with the redhead next to you.

“I didn’t mean to make him upset,” You were confused by his reaction. “He didn’t really do anything to hurt it too bad.”

Roy placed a comforting hand over your own. You looked down at the contact as tears began to form in your eyes. You blinked them away as Roy brought your head up to meet the bright green of his verdant gaze. 

“It’s got nothing to do with you and everything to do with… something in his past.” 

You tilted your head slightly, “With what? The Joker or scars?”

Both, you figured, waiting for him to give you any sort of clarity, but weren’t surprised when he simply picked the cloth back up to continue right where Jason had left off.

“It’s not mine to tell,” He said with a genuinely sorry smile. “But I can tell you that it’s definitely not you.”

"Awesome," You chuckled humorlessly, “It’s ‘not me,’ yet I’m the one causing the outburst somehow. Sure, makes total sense,” You sucked in a pained breath as Roy made contact with the same aching place Jason had moments before.

Roy gave you a sheepish glance and gently squeezed your thigh in apology as he applied the antibiotic cream. “He really cares about you, but that’s really all I can say,” He capped the ointment as he stood up from the bed. “None of us want to see you in pain,” Your name cracked slightly in his throat as he turned to face the door. “Least of all by someone like that fucking psychopath. You don’t deserve to be a part of that shit. That’s the last thing any of us wanted.”

You didn’t say anything, really couldn’t say anything, as you watched him hesitate by the door. You basked in the shared silence for a moment more before he left to check on Jason.

Once the door clicked shut, you unleashed a burst of breath you hadn’t realized you’d been holding in, falling backward onto Jason’s neatly placed pillows. You lost track of time until you saw the door handle jiggle and forced yourself to sit up slightly on your forearms from the laying position you’d fallen into.

“You should let that breathe,” You looked up at Jason’s gruff voice to see him walking back in as if he’d never left.

Roy trailed behind him with, from your vantage point propped up on Jason’s bed, what appeared to be a stack of papers. 

Oh, god. 

You’d forgotten all about the homework you were going to have to make up.

“They’re not Batman, I swear!” Roy said, mistaking the panicked look on your face. You schooled your expression as he dumped a pile of what turned out to be comic books, not homework, all across the expanse of Jason’s bed. “I just didn’t want you to give up something you loved because of that ugly fucker.”

“Roy…” You trailed off, not knowing what to say. 

It was so extremely thoughtful and incredibly kind you could hardly believe you’d questioned their friendship in the gym when they’d confronted you before the gala. Deep down, you knew that had mostly been about you being defensive about your tumultuous home life.

“I’ve already read ‘em over the years, but I did check through all of them again the past few days to make sure he’s not in any,” He held out his pinky to you, leaving your bottom lip to pout and unwittingly wobble in response. 

It was so fucking sweet.

You met his pinky right as your sobs erupted. You were quickly pulled into an embrace that was careful to protect your exposed neck wound, “I’m so lucky to have you guys.”

They helped you lay down more comfortably with them on either side of you, running light fingers up your arms and through your hair until, eventually, the sobs turned into sporadic whimpers. Your sniffles eventually completely settled as you allowed the pressure and heat from their bodies to take over your senses until you finally drifted into a spinning sleep.

“You are, after all, the main event.” 

You heard his voice, but when you looked around, all you saw was smoke. In fact, the smoke was becoming thicker and harder to inhale.

“Hello?” You yelled out

“Haven’t you ever heard of the little old saying,” You gasped as the familiar words smacked against your ears, “Be careful what you wish for?”

You spun on your heel and took off in a sprint across the white wasteland that was steadily morphing into the Wayne ballroom. You checked behind you to see if he was there but were only met with your reflection in the wall of mirrors that adorned the east side of the room.

When you focused back ahead of you, you were running. Your dress was too heavy, though and you were too slow. You only managed to run for mere moments before you tripped on the length of your ballgown that, with a quick glance down, proved to be seeping with blood. 

“Let me OUT OF HERE,” You shrieked, jerking around to survey the empty expanse of the room, “GET OUT OF MY HEAD!” Your anxious, shrill voice echoed across the emptiness of the room. You remained motionless as you waited for something… you could feel it building.

“Boo.”

You’d awoken with an ear-splitting scream that, when you came to, realized had knocked Roy clear off the bed in sheer alarm. You groaned as you slowly regained your senses, shifting around to look down at him. Roy quickly popped back up before you could move around too much and run the risk of disturbing your legs.

“Everything’s all good. We’re good,” Roy sleepily murmured as he messed around with his baseball cap that had fallen to the floor with him. “S’just my ugly mug in here, princess.”

You nodded, not even taking in his words until a few moments after they’d been spoken. You inhaled a few times to regulate your racing heartbeat and grounded yourself to the room, which was, sure enough, proved to be just you and Roy.

Roy was already back on the bed, attempting to cuddle you again, but you knew you wouldn’t be able to go back to sleep. Eventually, he noticed this and, with a great yawn, patted at your thigh that was trapping him to the mattress so he could get up to grab your cane.

“Jason’s downstairs doing some gay shit, or something.”

"I really wish you would stop saying that," You sighed against his neck. “You’re both clearly into each other. I might’ve been drunk that one night, but I know what I saw before I was too far gone.”

Roy cleared his throat uncomfortably and picked you up into his arms to carry you downstairs in lieu of a response. Jason looked up in greeting as Roy deposited you on the counter closest to the stove, though not before he eyed up your form in Roy’s arms with an unreadable expression. Roy stepped away, though you'd be blind not to notice how the redhead's slow gaze blatantly flitted across your every single flaw. You felt yourself subconsciously curl into yourself at Roy's inspection. It was all too much when you were already so vulnerable as to have to let someone carry you around everywhere.

Jason turned back to the stove while Roy remained the most silent you’d ever heard, or, well, not heard, him.

You sighed, “Is it the black eye, the hand prints on my face, or the scar on my neck that you’re focusing on over there, Roy?”

“The crippled legs don’t count?” Jason smacked Roy on the shoulder with an admonishing glare, but you just smiled, glad that Roy wasn’t set on treating you as fragile as everyone else seemed content to do.

“The cane’s pretty sick,” You glanced over to where it lay against the cabinet one over from the one you’d hidden in. You immediately honed in on the scuff mark that now adorned it because of you.

You were swallowed back into the moment, back to that fucking cupboard with your sweaty palms and panicked heart palpitations.

Panic…

Your heartbeat thrummed against your chest, though not as sporadically as earlier. Similarly, your breathing didn’t feel constrained in the slightest.

“Come back to me, babe.”

You startled at his voice, not realizing how close he’d gotten while you’d been lost in the memories of that night.

Jason’s worried eyes met your own until you were forced to look away due to their sheer intensity.

“I hid there,” You pointed to the cabinet like it explained everything, but they both took in the information earnestly anyway, “after I went down that chute.”

“I’m sorry,” He shook his head like he was berating himself. “I never should have let you out of my sight. I don’t know what I was thinking when I sent you down that shaft,” He turned away toward the stove like he couldn’t bear to look at you. You could hardly blame him. “I should’ve been there.” He vaguely motioned behind himself toward the cabinet, "I should've been here."

Was he serious?

“What? So we could both get captured?” Roy was staring at Jason and you looked between their undecipherable, shared gaze. “What?”

“Nothin',” Roy shrugged, offering you a light smile. “Next year, I’m definitely getting an invite, though. I know that.” 

Jason laughed humorlessly at the stove, “Yeah, to make sure I don’t fuck up again. Perfect.” 

Jason rested his hands on the cabinets on either side of the stove, seemingly lost in thought. In the process, his left hand grazed your thigh. You watched as he snapped out of it. He looked down at the contact before pulling away like he didn’t deserve to be in your presence, let alone touching you. 

You shrugged, staring down at your hands, “I don’t think I’ll ever go to another Wayne Gala, let alone step foot in that room again, so it won’t matter anyway.”

You’d always wondered what it would be like to go to one and now you knew.

“You can’t let him dictate what you do,” Jason said.

“I don’t know what you want me to say," You looked at Roy out of habit, but he seemed to be off in another world, forcing you to turn back to Jason. "I wish I were stronger so it wouldn’t affect me like it did- does, I mean,” You corrected with a slight blush. “It does affect me,” You clarified for no particular reason other than the fact that you’d never really been open about your feelings with anyone before.

“You don’t think I know that?” He turned to you with the most serious look you’d ever seen on him. “Every time I hear you scream, every time I… You get this look in your eyes and I just know you’re not here. You’re back in that moment and I can’t save you. You don't know how much it really kills me. I… I can’t...” He trailed off in frustration.

You looked over at Roy, who hosted the very same distant look Jason had just been referring to, though his eyes soon focused back on you. You watched openly as he came back to the present to be with you and Jason and whatever this fucking argument was about.

Not argument, you corrected yourself. More of an intervention than anything.

Jason approached you and lightly moved your legs apart to stand in between them. You bit your lip slightly, watching greedily as his eyes followed the movement. 

“You honestly had nothing to do with it, Jason. Unless you have some crazy superpowers or some sort of ninja abilities,” You laughed at the ridiculousness of your statement, it would’ve done more harm than good for you to have gotten involved.”

He laughed humorlessly, backing away swiftly, “Guess I have my answer then.”

Your grin dropped instantly.

You didn’t know why his mood had soured the way it had when you'd just told him point-blank you didn’t blame him. For some reason, Jason seemed content to beat himself up over the night more than anyone- even Damian, who still refused to talk about it with you. 

Jason eventually left to set the table, leaving you to lean over from your spot to stir the pot.

Roy was entirely too quiet and you wished it would all just go back to how it’d been before the gala. You wished you’d never asked for that stupid invitation. 

Be careful what you wish for, right?

Girls like you had no right to be at events like that, anyway. Who were you kidding?

You felt yourself spiral in self-deprecation, wondering why the Waynes put up with you when all you were was a freeloader. When would enough be enough? When would they finally ask you to leave? You knew it was coming and could practically feel the dread of it with each and every turn you took around the manner.

How many steps until you never stepped foot in here again?

You ate dinner in silence while Roy and Jason took turns doing your homework. 

You retired in front of the fireplace in Jason’s room until it dimmed and you were left in a cold, dark room with only your nightmares to keep you company.

A/N: elements from this chapter were heavily influenced by my other jayroy x reader fic you can read here!

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[vale-isei]

DU SNIPPET #2

TW: Suggestive themes.

Growling.

It echoed down the empty streets. Mixing with it was the sound of heavy, fast-paced footsteps; a horrendous symphony is created under the moon’s witnessing rays.

Operative Macabre had been on his nighttime patrols. It was the usual pacing down the winding streets, staring civilians down back to their residences. Nothing out of the ordinary for The Tragedy.

He was making the rounds close to the local playground when he heard something in the breeze. The sound of wet steps, low growling. Macabre had pulled up his gun and aimed it in the direction of the sound.

His eye narrowed on the playground. The lights were dim in the area, shielding the playground in blankets of shadow and unkempt grass. The Operative tried to hone in on the target through his eyepatch, but his field of red vision caught nothing. Not a single thing entered his crosshairs.

Yet Macabre could feel the hair stand up on the back of his neck. Something was definitely staring back at him.

He crept up to the playground, using the somber colours of his uniform to blend into the shadows while his eyepatch gave him night vision. To anything else, it was just a glowing red light floating across the grass. Maybe a trick of the eye, an illusion casted at this late hour. Usually, this worked and scared people away.

‘But this is no civilian.’

Macabre gripped his gun and kept going. He reached the woodchips of the playground, cringing at the quiet crunching underneath him.

Everything was quiet. The Tragedy scanned his surroundings, but all was still on this deathly quiet night. He was beginning to think it was an auditory hallucination due to the long hours he’s been working. Maybe he should stow away and get some sleep. Hide in an abandoned building. The thought enticed him. In those few moments, he let his guard down.

That was his mistake.

It struck fast. Macabre jumped back, narrowly avoiding its claw, feeling the air woosh violently against his face. The gun dropped out of his hand in the process, lost a few feet away, now irretrievable. The Tragedy doesn’t have the time to agonize about it as he scrambles to his feet and breaks into a sprint. The creature takes off after him, violent growls escaping from its discombobulated throat.

They ran down the winding streets. Macabre tried to lose it through narrow alleyways and twisting pathways, but this creature---it had intelligence. It always found The Tragedy, acting like Cerberus nipping at his heels ready to drag him down to Hell. Macabre’s thoughts were a storm in his slow brain as he ran. The only thing he could keep straight: the creature was one they’ve never experienced before, and that it was only a matter of time until he lost his endurance.

They eventually reach an abandoned street full of debris and rotting blanks. Macabre takes this to full advantage; diving into a small alleyway, he takes shelter behind a pile of concrete debris. He rips his eyepatch off and shoves it into his pocket---no light, the better. He would take his chances without the night vision.

He watches the creature come into view. He gets a good look at the creature. In his racing mind, the creature reminded him of a heavily starved tiger. It looked to be a good five metres big, multiple eyes encasing the upper half of its fleshy, bloody body. Razor sharp claws, strong limbs, very long tongue slobbering black drool as it's dragged against the ground. It seemed to get around using sound and taste.

The minutes tick by. The creature has made its way down the street, but every time Macabre checks, it’s still not completely out of sight. It’s like it knows that the Operative is hiding in the area. Damn evolution.

He’s lost in his observation that he doesn’t notice the figure creeping up on him.

Macabre startles and jolts as a hand clamps over his mouth. He whips his head around, ready to punch the shit out of this person---but his body relaxes in an instant. The familiar pink armband settles his worries for the moment.

The Doctor smiles behind the mask. He makes a soft ‘tsk’ as he uncovers Macabre’s mouth, trailing his finger down The Tragedy’s bottom lip and then his jawline. The touch sends a shiver throughout Macabre.

“One bite, and it could rip off your pretty face,” Benevolent whispers. “This is why you should wear your mask, [TRAGEDY].”

“I work better without it,” Macabre growls under his breath. He turns around to face the slightly taller Operative. “How did you know I was here? In fact---why are you here? You aren’t supposed to be in the outer Districts.”

“I got off work and caught the last train to find you,” Benevolent replied. “I wasn’t slotted for nighttime patrols, so I decided to pay my dear friend a visit. Though it seems that you’re in a bit of trouble…”

“It jumped me.”

“You don’t have your gun.”

“It jumped me.”

Benevolent giggles. Macabre rolls his eye and turns back to the street, checking on the creature. Fortunately, it was settled on a large concrete piece, seemingly waiting for Macabre to appear so it could devour him. Benevolent leans over and follows his line of sight; The Doctor’s body pressed against The Tragedy’s, sending another shiver through the shorter.

“Oh my… that’s a new sight,” Benevolent murmurs.

Macabre looks over at him. “Give me your gun. I can handle this.”

“And let this special situation slide?” Benevolent teases. He leans in close, fingers light against the small space of Macabre’s lower back. “No no, I’ll be the one to save you, my sweet damsel in distress.”

Macabre blinks. His eye searches Benevolent in shock. Benevolent never talked like this, could it be---

The Doctor unclasps his mask and pulls it off. His suspicions are confirmed at the sight of those unforgettable, glittering crimson eyes and wicked smile. For some reason, Macabre’s heart races and his skin feels warm.

Malevolent switches the safety off of his gun and adjusts the scope. Before he can walk out, though, he flashes Macabre a dangerous smile. He takes The Tragedy by his chin and forces the glowering Operative to look up at him properly. There’s no resistance from the opposing party other than slight shifting.

“I missed your pretty face,” Malevolent coos. “Pity that the good doctor gets to experience it more than I.”

“Quit touching me,” Macabre grumbles. “I’m not your damn pet.”

Malevolent makes a low chuckle. “Not yet. Not yet..”

With that, he steps away, leaving the skin on Macabre’s face burning. He walks onto the street to end the creature’s cursed life. Macabre is left to stare after him, clenching his hands as his face burns traitorously, eyes watching after the sly entity.

#days union #days union roblox #valedysduwriting #benevolent/malevolentxmacabre

[the-enby-bird]

Chilled Cinnamon

I do not write women enough and that needs to be fixed

I could have done all sorts of gender fuckery in this fic, but I’m already exploring that in the Ups and Downs series so I figured this could just be a Woman Appreciation oneshot. 

  * Horror, Dust and Cross all use she/her, Nightmare uses they/it and Killer uses they/she

Word Count: ~1600

AO3 Link

~

TWs: Implied and mentioned drinking + a bar setting; drugging with intent of kidnapping; blood; the start of a panic attack/flashback prevented by the use of sleep magic; violence

 - You can skip almost all of the warnings by skipping down to after the tilde, at the line “dust was cold”

~~~

Dust’s glass made a light tinkle as it hit the counter, the soft noise of ice shifting jarring in the dead silence. She hadn’t even started drinking yet, her first two glasses full of an oddly cinnamon-scented juice, yet her mind was fuzzy as if she was on her fifth drink already. The strange, discombobulated feeling was new, and dragged her focus away from the idiots she was in charge of watching. One of the aforementioned idiots was currently slamming back yet another shot of her favourite bitter drinks. She didn’t see how Killer could stand them, but she supposes they get the job done. 

A sudden wave of nausea washes over her, a burning sensation arising in the back of her throat. The air felt increasingly stifling, breathing that she shouldn’t need to do near impossible. Her head pounded, slumping down onto the counter in front of her feeling ever more appealing. 

A bolt of panic shot through her at a rustle behind her. The start of a murmured word left her falling off the stool, something cracking when she hit the ground. Gasping for breath she still didn’t need, she lay near motionless as a distinctly human face loomed over her. Their features were obscured by black dots flickering all over her vision, pulsing in time with the thrumming in her skull. She let out a strangled cry as a hand reached for her, cut off by her own shaky breathing. 

A loud crunch was followed by blood spilling all over her torso, the scent of iron overwhelming anything else. Red swamped through her vision, mingling with black and a shifting patch of white. She could almost feel the shadows moving, already screaming her sins. The dust on her blade mixing with blood, his scarf stained in white, the chalky feeling of dust caught in her joints. 

You did this. 

“Dusty?” A patch of white and bright, vivid red moved in the corner of her eye. There was another patch of deep navy on her other side, a large hand resting right above her arm. They radiated comfort and safety, faces oddly familiar through the haze.

She reached one hand up to the navy blur, shakily grasping at them with a whine. A warm hand captured hers gently, the blue splotch leaning over her. “Bun? You okay?” The rumble was soft, nearly washed away by the thrumming in her skull. Something brushed along her cheek, eliciting a whimper when her head was moved. The world seemed to twist and swirl around her, melting into water. The voices of the two blurs raised, staticky sounds raising into panic. They were shouting something, but the noise was drowned out again by the pounding filling her skull. She wondered if the sound could spill out into the world around her, if it could get loud enough for the others to hear. 

Something cold brushed against her cheek, coming away with a splotch of red on it. The bright colour swamped her vision, wiping out everything else besides the blood on gold floors, mixing with dust. Brilliant red scarves soaked in remains until it falls in tatters. Her fault her fault it’s all her fault-!

A cold hand landed on her chest, the haze of magic gathering around her pausing in its growth. The pressure was grounding, another cold something brushing against her forehead. Exhaustion swamped over her, the pull of sleep feeling more and more tempting to succumb to. A pair of arms wrapped around her, gripping her protectively as black filled her vision and she fell into the warm grasp of sleep.

~

Dust was cold. That wasn’t something she felt much anymore. There was a source of warmth nearby, she could feel it radiating from her left. She whined softly, rolling towards it. 

She felt the ground slip out under her for a few seconds, quickly replaced with something much warmer. It was soft. Someone above her laughed, another voice following with a worried call of her name. She tried to respond, but her mouth felt full of cotton. Cotton was thick. It would be warm. 

She was cold.

Snuggling closer to the warmth below her, she let out a soft grumble of displeasure. Something cold, colder than even herself, brushed her cheek, a light pressure that was still too much, too cold. 

A voice, laced heavily with concern, mumbled something at her. She wasn’t sure if it was actually a mumble, or just the jumble of thoughts in her head muffling it to near silence, but the sound was nearly inaudible. 

She could feel her eyelights gathering magic, granting her the ability to see the worried faces above her. 

“Dusty?” Horror shifted her around, setting her back on what she now recognized as an infirmary bed.

It was still cold. 

“Duuuuustyyyyyyyy~” Killer snapped in front of her, poking her shoulder. “You with us, bunny?”

“‘m cold.” Dust’s voice still didn’t feel quite like her own, muffled and disconnected. 

Killer laughed, looking off to their left. Dust didn’t quite know who she was looking at until a tentacle reached out with a quilt, tucking her in gently. “That better, bun?” Killer sat down next to her, the bed crinkling under them.

Dust nodded, pulling her knees up to her chest. Killer flopped down, managing to take up half the bed. Nightmare sighed, still out of Dust’s line of sight. They flicked Killer on the nose with a tentacle, the other skeleton sticking their tongue out at it. 

Nightmare stood beside the bed, two of their tentacles flicking tensely behind it. They hid it well, but to Dust it was obvious how nervous they were. They wrapped a tentacle around Dust’s shoulders, the cold pressure vaguely uncomfortable. “How are you feeling, Dust?”

Dust rubbed her socket, a slight shiver running along her bones. “Really, really cold. What happened?”

Nightmare behind the bed, the soft click of a cabinet opening sounding before they spoke. “I… We are not entirely sure what occurred last night. As far as I am aware, somebody attempted to kidnap you.”

Killer piped up from the foot of the bed, “And now they don’t have internal organs! How odd!” 

Dust choked on a laugh. “That is certainly very strange. Couldn’t imagine how that happened.” 

Nightmare passed her another quilt, tucking it around her shoulders. “Dust, do you feel up to eating? You’ve been out for an entire day, and Horror is… Stressing.”

“Yeah, ‘course. Jus’ ask her to bring me some water while you’re at it.”

There was a blur of movement and a thump as Killer fell off the bed, wheezing with laugher. “I- I was gonna offer to go tell ‘er but- now- now I’m not sure I can move- fuck-”

“Oh, you poor baby,” Nightmare drawled sarcastically. “Last I checked they were making brownies down there, but perhaps if you’re too wounded to go I could just eat them all…”

Killer sat up, immediately doubling over with laughter. “Okay, first off, fuck you-” They cut off with laugher, standing up. “Just- I’m divorcing you, you’re so mean-”

“Mhm, sure. Go fetch Horror will you?”

Killer nodded shakily, teleporting away. 

“How did I gather such a crowd of idiots?”

“Do I qualify as an idiot?” Dust curled deeper into the blankets, regretting ever wishing she wasn’t so warm. Nightmare cast a quiet glance over at her, one of their  tentacles pulling a third quilt out of the closet. She accepted it eagerly, adding it to the pile around her. 

“You are the lesser idiot. You do not fall off of beds most of the time.”

“Most of the time? When have I ever fallen off a bed?”

“Hm, perhaps ten minutes ago? There isn’t a clock in here, so I couldn’t say for sure.” 

“.....Whoops.”

Nightmare patted her head. “Don’t worry, that’s still less than everyone else.” 

The door creaked open, revealing Horror. Cross was standing behind her, Killer draped across her shoulders. She was still wearing the poofy blue dress from last night, although it was now speckled with flour. Horror hadn’t changed either, although she wore an apron over her shirt. 

Dust’s eyes were drawn to the tray with soup and bread Horror was holding. Horror’s gaze followed hers, and she practically ran forward to set the tray down next to her. The tiny table rattled under the weight, but no soup spilled. 

“Hey H.” Her voice cracked slightly, and she gratefully accepted the water Horror offered. Sticking her hands outside of her pleasant blanket burrito was a poor decision, and her hands shook a little against the cup. 

Taking the cup back after Dust had drank almost all of it, Horror scooped her up gently and sat on the bed in her place. The warmth radiating from her was heavenly, and the second Dust was set in Horror’s lap she practically melted. Killer laughed, sitting once more at the foot of the bed. They had dragged Cross down with them, although she looked much stiffer. 

Horror moved around behind her, grabbing one of the bowls of soup off the tray. She rested it on Dust’s lap, the layers of blankets an excellent buffer between the burning heat and Dust’s bones. If she wasn't so hungry she could, and probably would have, fallen asleep. 

Horror seemed to disagree with her plan of passing out, as she offered up a spoonful of soup. She took it, humming happily at the burst of flavour in her mouth. Horror had outdone herself this time.

She zoned out, quietly accepting spoons of soup until they stopped coming. The warm bowl in her lap was taken away. A third warm body joined their little pile, a lump of silk and tulle leaning against Dust. Cross was already asleep, her near-silent purring occasionally interrupted by little snores. The lights clicked off, leaving only the glow of the fairy lights near the ceiling.

It was warm, and the shaky infirmary bed was made soft by Horror beneath her. 

Another hour of sleep could never hurt. 

~~~

Dust was cold because, basically, she expelled a bunch of magic into the air after being drugged, and her stores were really low, but her soul is used to overcompensating for too much magic, and it resulted in her being really fucking cold. She’ll be better after a day or two, but for now she gets a solid two days of being a cozy little blanket burrito :D

Also! Another little detail and the reason for the title: I don’t remember where I read this, but I saw somewhere that people trying to drug drinks sometimes use cinnamon to cover the smell of drugs/poisons, and since Dust was drinking apple cider she just assumed it was Extra Flavoured cider 

#dust sans #bad sans poly #bad sans gang #undertale #undertale au #undertale multiverse #nightmare sans #killer sans #cross sans #writing #story storage #birdie writes #horror sans #bad sanses #hurt/comfort #tw violence #tw drinking

[munsonslilbunnie]

Hi I got a Nancy request. Can you one where vecna is haunting the reader bbut she does not tell anybody because she does not want anybody to worry as she does not know anything about what is happening and starts being distant and rude to everyone and Nancy think the reader is cheating on her and the reader lies and says she is and they break up. A week later Nancy goes to the reader house to get her jacket and when she comes inside the reader room. She sees the reader dead body and has a mental breakdown

pairing: nancy wheeler x plus-size!fem!reader 

word count: 4.2k

warnings/cw/tw: angst. breaking up. vecna’s curse. description of reader’s death and discombobulated body parts. brief timeskip. trauma, trauma, trauma there is no happy ending to this, so pls be aware of that i’m sorry asfkjdgk 

a/n: ngl i teared up just thinking about some of the scenes i wanted to include in this LOL i hope this is kinda what you asked for! also, this is my first fic with nancy so i hope i did her justice hhh.

: ¨ ·.· ¨ : · .. ·

you woke up in a cold sweat, shaky gasps leaving your lips as you tried your hardest to calm down your rapidly beating heart. thin droplets of tears coursed down your cheeks, wet sobs and cries soon replacing your gasps as memories of the nightmare you just had came crashing back to you, leaving your body trembling. 

this was the third one this week that dealt with the same thing, over and over again – the death of your parents was something that you thought you finally came to terms with. it’s only been a little over five months since your parents died in that horrific car crash. they had just picked you up from your friends’ – or, well, you thought was your friend – mary, house after a teenage party went wrong. you weren’t sure where everything went downhill, but you were drunk and crying and you didn’t want to be there anymore because teenagers are shitty and mean. normally you would have called nancy, your girlfriend, to come pick you up but you knew she would have been disappointed in you, and the thought of disappointing her hurt you more than whatever your parents might have said to you at the time.

your parents had been furious with you. you lied to them. you said – you promised – there wouldn’t be any alcohol involved. they trusted you. they knew you had a difficult time making friends at school because of the bullying sometimes, so when you told them you made a new friend at school and wanted to hang out with her at her house, they were so happy for you and, after making you promise them there wouldn’t be any funny business, they dropped you off at her house. 

oh, how wrong they were. 

the entire car ride back home, they were screaming at you for betraying their trust like this. in your drunk, hazy mind, you tried your best to come up with an excuse – “i didn’t know, i swear!” – but no excuse was good enough for you. you’ve always been a good girl, never once getting in trouble at school, always doing your homework, getting home on time before curfew – you did everything right and one simple mistake took that away from you in an instant. 

you were sobbing inconsolably in the back seat, your ears ringing from the screaming of your parents, their words piercing through your heart like arrows. your chest was hurting. it felt like you couldn’t breathe. you didn’t want to be there – especially not with how they were yelling at you. you had no idea what had come over you that night – but the next thing you knew, you were desperately trying to open the back door, your hand pulling at the handle as you sobbed something about you wanting to get out. your father had looked away from the steering wheel for one split second, yelling at you to stop being stupid, and suddenly –

nothing. 

when you woke up again, you were in a hospital bed, bandages wrapped around your arms and your head, but nothing too drastic. nancy had been by your side that entire time, apparently. she had been there since the moment you were admitted to the hospital – for two whole days, she was by your side as you slept, not once waking up despite all the probing. 

nancy sobbed into your shoulder when you had finally woken up. you had been so confused. why were you in the hospital? why did you have all of these bandages around you? what happened to you?

when she told you – when she told you about the car crash, you couldn’t believe your ears. and after finding out about your parents' fate, you broke down into tears, the petite girl holding you so tightly, so protectively, as you cried. 

you couldn’t believe it. you didn’t want to believe it. they – they were just there with you. they were just there in the car with you, yelling at you, screaming at you. 

it felt surreal – knowing that those last moments you spent with them would be the last time you would see their faces, hear their voices, anything. 

it continued to feel surreal after that. you have no vivid recollection of the funeral that was held for your parents. you were numb to the whole situation. your family members – uncles, aunts, grandparents, family friends. they were all there. for comfort, they said. but they didn’t comfort you. you could feel the way they would stare at you. judge you. you knew they blamed you for their deaths. for taking away their loved ones. you knew that. they just didn’t have to verbally tell you. but you knew. you had reminded yourself that every single day after the funeral. it was your fault. it was always your fault. and you were sorry for the way it ended. it wasn’t your intention. you never would have wished for your parents to die like that – not now, not ever. ‘it should've been you’, a little whisper comes from the back of your mind. ‘i know.’ you would always reply back to it. 

but you thought, five months after the horrific event, that you had gotten better. 

“i’m sorry, i’m so sorry,” you gasped out softly, your arms wrapping themselves around your body as it curled up into a ball, eyes squeezing shut as you tried to block out the memories – the looks of anger on your parents’ faces were one that will always haunt you. that was the last thing you will ever remember of your parents from now. 

“daddy, mommy, forgive me, please…” you cried yourself to sleep that night, your room filled with little gasps and cries of shame and desperation as you tried to fight back the nightmares. 

weeks had slowly started to roll by you and you – you weren’t acting the same anymore. you hardly had the energy to get out of bed anymore. if you did, it was because of a random bout of nausea or to get up to get some tylenol pills for your splitting headaches that you were starting to suffer from. the nightmares were still a constant – with a looming grandfather clock that you had never seen before making a constant appearance now. you were also starting to miss so many days of school, despite nancy practically begging you to get out of bed and dragging you to school. 

sure, you went to school – but it’s not like you were totally there. physically, sure. but mentally? not really. you didn’t want to be there, no matter how much you needed an escape from your mind. you didn’t want to be surrounded by these people – people who looked at you and whispered to themselves with looks of disdain. the talking behind your back that plagued you for over six months now. why be in a place where people clearly disliked you? 

you didn’t even mean to – you were normally so sweet and nice to people, but once you started to snap at them – at teachers, at classmates, at your own friends, at nancy – everything went even more downhill. the whispers became worse and no matter what nancy said or did could make it any better. 

it finally started to get better the week leading up to spring break. the headaches were less now – is what you told nancy, which wasn’t necessarily the truth but it wasn’t a lie, either. they were happening less and less – but the intensity of them was getting worse. but you didn’t tell her that. you didn’t want to worry her anymore. 

nancy didn’t deserve that. you didn’t want her to worry over you. she’s been nothing but amazing to you – but she deserved better. she deserved better, you knew this. the longer you became distracted by your mind and negative thoughts, the more you started to pull away from her. the more you started to put a distance – a barrier – between you two. you could tell she felt it. the way she looked at you, hurt and confusion crossing her pretty face when you would flinch from her touch didn’t escape you. you could hear her voice crack every time you would deny her a date or would tell her you didn’t want to talk at the moment. it hurt her, you knew this already. 

you didn’t want to hurt her. but maybe this was for the best. you weren’t perfect. you were bigger than most girls in your school. you weren’t the prettiest. you weren’t the smartest. you were just a girl – a girl who killed her parents. nancy didn’t deserve to be with a murderer. no, no. she deserved better. nancy wheeler deserved the world and everything else that was good – you did not deserve her. 

and one day before spring break, she gave you the perfect opportunity to set her free. 

you were making your way to your car, feeling like the weight of the world was on your shoulders. your footsteps felt heavy. felt sluggish. your car was in plain sight – all you needed to do was get inside and soon, you’d be able to hide yourself from the world around you. 

your breathing became labored as your surroundings suddenly – transformed. everything became dark. the parking lot transformed into a single road – your breath hitched. the same road your parents took that night. you stopped walking for a moment, watching as the road seemed to run on and on. suddenly – a car was coming straight at you at full speed yet you could see clearly inside the car. it was your parents – you could see their faces morph into expressions of anger, your father banging on the steering wheel as he shouted at you. your mother was next to him, her hand on his shoulder as she yelled alongside him, disappointment and hurt on her face. 

to your horror, you watched as your father looked away from the road for a moment – and suddenly, it was flipping in mid-air, seemingly crashing into an invisible force. a silent scream ripped from your lips as you watched the family car land on its side, flames soon taking over the scene. your parents – your parents weren’t wearing their seatbelts. their bodies – god, you gagged loudly – as you watched their bodies sling out through the front windshield, glass embedding themselves in their faces, their necks, their arms – glass was everywhere. 

“mommy, daddy!” you tried to call out to them, desperately wanting to run to their sides, to try to save them – anything. 

but you were pulled back. a loud, terrified shriek left your lips as dark, twisting hands started to wrap themselves around your ankles, making their way around your legs and holding you steady. 

“murderer, murderer, you’re a murderer, (y/n)...” muffled whispers filled your ears as tears pricked your eyes, your vision becoming blurry as you shook your head. 

“n… no, no! i’m not a murderer! i’m not!” you tried to deny desperately, shaking your head fervently as you looked on at the scene, these invisible hands holding your head in place as you stared on. 

“mommy! daddy! please, please! wake up! i’m not… i’m not a murderer, please, i’m so sorry!” you screamed out, struggling against the hands as tears rushed down your cheeks. “tell them i’m not! please! wake up!” your voice was coming out broken, hiccups leaving your lips as you tried not to hyperventilate. 

your breathing suddenly hitched – what was that noise? 

a loud, booming ticking noise surrounded your senses – it was all you could hear.

tick. 

tick.

you blinked your eyes and a large, ominous grandfather clock appeared in front of you. 

“your time has come, (y/n). your suffering will soon come to an end…” a muted whisper next to your ear. you couldn’t scream even if you tried to. your eyes were large, filled with terror as you tracked the clock’s hand with each tick. 

tick. 

tick – 

“(y/n)? baby? baby, are you okay?” nancy’s voice suddenly filled your ears, her hands grasping your shoulders as she shook you, panic setting in her voice as you finally snapped out of it. 

you blinked multiple times, looking around in confusion. you were – back in school? back in the parking lot? what… what just happened? 

you let out a shaky sigh, stumbling back away from nancy’s grip as you stared into her eyes. “w… what?” you cleared your throat when you heard how shaky it was and tried again, “i mean, what?” you asked her again, noticing the look of concern in nancy’s eyes. 

nancy glanced behind her, making sure no one was looking at you two (since you haven’t come out with your relationship, not that it would be a good idea, really), before placing her hand on your forearm and whispered softly, “(y/n), i was trying to get your attention for the last few minutes. what happened? is everything okay? it was like… you were in a trance or something.” nancy pursed her lips as she stared at you, hoping that’d you tell her the truth. she knew you were distancing away from her and she was so – so – scared of losing you, but she just didn’t know what to do. you kept pushing her away. maybe spending time together during spring break is what you two needed. away from the stares. away from the town. away from everything. she knew things were difficult for you and she wanted to be there for you through it all, but it was so hard when you kept pulling away. 

you looked at her for a moment – taking everything in. the worry lines on her forehead. her pretty lips dipped down into a frown. her teeth-bitten lips. the unhinged concern in her eyes. her furrowed brows. no, this wouldn’t do anymore. you had to pull away completely – she wasn’t happy – she will never be happy with you, (y/n).  

“i think we should break up, nancy.”

“w… what?!” nancy let go of your forearm in shock, eyes widening as she tried to process your words. “where the hell did this come from?” she was quick to ask, her hands shooting to hold onto your shoulders, trying to search your eyes from an answer – any answer. “i… i know things haven’t been easy lately, but i thought – i thought we were okay, even if just a bit. (y/n)!”

you could feel your heart physically breaking as you watched nancy’s expression crumble as she stared into your eyes, her hands trembling from where they were gripping your shoulders. this has to be done. 

“we’re not, okay?” you snapped at the girl, pulling away from her grip as you turned away from her, not wanting to look at her face – not now. “i think we should break up. i’m not happy being with you anymore, nancy,” you lied straight through your teeth, your hand gripping onto the strap of your bag. “we need to end this now. okay?”

nancy couldn’t believe her ears. this couldn’t possibly be happening. no, she refused to believe this. you weren’t happy with her anymore…? 

“is there someone else, (y/n)? is that it?” her voice was soft as it reached your ears. you breath hitched at the notion of her question. someone else? she thought you found someone else?

“yes. yes, nancy. there is someone else. someone… who makes me happy. okay?” you mumbled back in response to her question, tears welling in the corner of your eyes as you continued to lie to the girl you were helplessly in love with. it’s for her happiness, you tried to tell yourself. 

“(y/n)... (y/n), please, tell me you’re lying. please – i… i’ll change, if that’s what you want me to do. please. please, there has to be something that i can do to make this better, (y/n) – “ nancy sounded desperate as she tried to reason with you, her own eyes welling up with tears as she stared at your back. were you unaffected by this? did you not care about her anymore? was there really someone else who has your attention? your affection? your love? was this why you pulled away from her?

“i’m not lying, nancy. this ends here, okay?” you closed your eyes, taking in a steady breath as you started to walk away from her, ignoring the way your hands trembled. you could feel your heart breaking with each step you took away from her. 

i’m so sorry, nancy. forgive me, please. i love you. i love you so much.

after your, rather public, break-up with nancy, you locked yourself in your house – more specifically, your room. you ignored every single phone call you received on your landline. you didn’t want to speak to anyone – especially if it was nancy on the other side of the line. you were already regretting breaking up with her – that girl was literally the love of your life and you ruined it. why? because you were depressed and having a pity party for yourself 24/7? sounds about right. 

it hasn’t even been 24 hours since then and you really, really were tempted to go see nancy and tell her the truth. you didn’t want to lie anymore. you needed help, you knew that. and all nancy ever tried to do was help. not only her, but robin and steve – hell, even mike tried to help you, get your mind away from things, but all you did was push them away, making them feel like you hated them and that you didn’t need them. 

but that was a lie. you did need them. you needed them all – especially nancy. she was your rock. your home. you needed to fix this – and soon. 

a shaky sigh escaped your lips as you started to sit up on your bed, but to your confusion – you found that you couldn’t. 

“what?” you breathed out quietly in confusion as you tried again, your hands bracing themselves against the mattress but to no avail. 

you froze at a sound –

tick.

it was that same sound, again. the one that you heard from yesterday. the one from the grandfather clock. 

you looked around in panic, the only thing you could move was your head, eyes wide and frantic as you tried to pinpoint the noise. what the fuck was going on?

“murderer, murderer, murderer…” soft, muffled whispers surrounded you, the same whispers you heard yesterday. 

a fearful whimper escaped your lips as you shook your head, “no. no! you’re wrong. i’m not a murderer, it was a mistake!” you tried to reason with the voices, wondering if this was all happening in your head. 

your lights started to flicker strangely – rapidly, ranging from bright and dim before they completely shut off. you whimpered at the lack of light, blinking your eyes as you tried to adjust to the complete darkness, little particles floating around you. 

tick. 

your door creaked open, wavering eyes glancing over as it slowly pushed itself open. 

a terrified scream left your lips at the sight – it was… it was some kind of monster. it stood and held itself like a human but the face was disgusting – thick tendrils encapsulating the entirety of the body, its eyes almost sunken in. 

the creature started making its way to you, your body frozen and being held down by an invisible force. 

“don’t… don’t come any closer!” you shouted at the creature, hands trying to tug away from the grip, but no matter how hard you tried to pull away, to get away, there was nothing you could do. 

the monster-like creature finally stopped in front of you, its beady, translucent eyes staring down at you for a moment, before its hand started making its way to your head, long, sharp nails glistening slightly. 

“don’t touch me!” you shrieked, tears falling from your eyes the closer its hand came to you. you looked away from the creature, trying to move your head away from the nails. 

“your time has come, (y/n).” 

tick. 

“m… my time? my time for what has come?!” you shouted, trying hard not to break down. this had to be a dream. you shut your eyes tightly, willing yourself to wake up, wake up, wake up. 

“your time for suffering has come to end.” the creature spoke, its hand forcing your head to look at it into its eyes, your eyes shut tightly. somehow, it willed you to open your eyes, lashes fluttering in resistance before they finall snapped open. 

“no, no… i don’t want to join you, please…” you sobbed out, irises trembling as its nails pressed against the entirety of your face, digging slightly into your skin.

tick. 

“join me, (y/n). in a world where suffering does not exist.”

“no!” your shriek of defiance was cut short as your body was suddenly levitating in mid-air, eyes rapidly moving back and forth, mouth falling open. no, no, no… were the last thoughts that filtered in your mind before a loud – crack! – filled the room. 

it started off with your leg snapping forward, the other folding sideways. both of your arms snapped upwards, your wrists twisted in the opposite direction. trails of blood dripped down your cheeks, jaw unhinged and hanging loosely. eyes suddenly sunken in, leaving dark pools of nothingness. 

as quickly as it started, it ended. 

you dropped onto your bed, a lifeless, twisted version of your body occupying the space. 

and suddenly, you were no more.

it’s been a full week since nancy has last seen you. it pained her – not seeing you every day like she used to, but with the things she had to deal with in the upside down and with vecna, she didn’t have much time to think about you. but now that everything seemed to get back to normal – as normal as it could be, now that everyone seems to be evacuating hawkins, all she knew was that she needed to see you – even if her excuse would be of her simply wanting to get a jacket of hers she left at your house weeks ago. 

which explains why she was standing in front of your house now, steve and robin waiting for her in steve’s car behind her. she had asked around if anyone had seen you but no one could give her a straight answer. she already wasn’t too sure how you would react to seeing her, but she was hoping for the best. she missed you. she missed you so much. 

with a shaky sigh, and an encouraging thumbs-up from both steve and robin, she made her way towards your front door. she quickly patted her hair down her hair, ironically wondering if she looked presentable enough for you. this was okay. it will be okay. despite how you ended things, she was hopeful. you two would work it out, she was sure of it.

she brought her hand up and placed a firm knock on the door – she took a step back when the door creaked open. why was your door open? why was it unlocked? you never did that. you always made sure to lock your door, no matter what. an unsettling feeling formed in her gut, her hand pressing against her stomach for a moment. 

but she pushed through. she slowly entered your home, eyes glancing around as she took in the sight. it was like no one had been here in days. there was a thin covering of dust on your coffee table and mantel fireplace. that was unlike you. if you had been here, you would have never let that happen. you were always so tidy and clean. 

a wave of dread ran down her spine. she took one last look at the coffee table and was soon running up the stairs to your room, frantically calling out, “(y/n)! (y/n), are you here?!” she was desperate, so despatate to find you. if you had decided to flee with the other hawkins members, it would be so unlike you. you wouldn’t have done that, right? 

the thought urged her on, her running quickening the closer she got to your room. 

“(y/n) – !”

a loud, heart-breaking scream left nancy’s lips at the scene in front of her, the scream echoing throughout the empty house. her body gave up on her as she took one look at your broken, discombobulated figure. 

“no!” she screamed out, tears falling down her cheeks as she crumbled onto the floor, her nails clawing into the floorboard. she could faintly hear muffled curses and callings of her name echo from downstairs – steve, robin. 

but how could she focus on anything else but you? 

a pained wail escaped nancy’s lips as she crawled her way to your lifeless body, getting onto your bed as her arms cradled you close to her, tears continuously falling onto your dark, sunken cheeks. “no, no, this can’t be happening, please!” she begged to nothing at all, her hands roaming your body as if she couldn’t believe it unless she touched it. 

“nancy, what the fuck is – holy shit, (y/n)?!” steve’s confused voice appeared in your room but it all faded away from nancy’s ears. 

no, no. she was supposed to come here and work things out with you. this wasn’t supposed to happen. this wasn’t ever suppose to happen. 

why? why you? why didn’t it click that you might have been one of vecna’s victims? she saw you in that trance one day… if she had only been thinking straight, she would have realized you were going to be a victim of his. if only she had been smart enough, she could have saved you. 

i’m sorry, i’m so sorry, (y/n). forgive me, please. 

: ¨ ·.· ¨ : · .. ·

#nancy wheeler #nancy wheeler x reader #nancy wheeler x y/n #nancy wheeler x you #stranger things fanfiction #stranger things imagine #nancy stranger things #nancy wheeler imagine #stranger things

[simgrump]

Gen One, Day Fifty-Eight

tw drugs

Twenty minutes later, Brittni and Kevin had left for their party and Allan Szalinski came running into the theater out of the rain with a concerned look on his face. Eris had calmed down considerably and when she saw Allan, she again felt silly for calling him. 

Allan, on the other hand, came over to where she was sitting and smiled down at her. “May I?” he asked, motioning for the seat next to her and she laughed slightly, still a bit discombobulated, scooting over so he could sit next to her. 

“Thanks for coming,” she told him. “You were the only person I could think of who said they had a car.” 

Allan snorted, leaning back and looking around the theater for any sign of what might have inspired Eris to call him. “Yeah, of course,” he told her, before lifting a brow at her. “So... are you okay? You sounded kinda... not okay on the phone.” 

Eris gave a small smile, nodding her head at him. “Yeah, I’m okay. Sorry to worry you, I just... my stupid friends. They took these gummies and then wanted me to go to a party and it all just felt, scummy.” 

“Mmm,” Allan nodded his head, like he knew exactly what had transpired. “The good old scummy gummy predicament. That’s a heavy one.” It did the trick, making Eris laugh a little. he kept smiling at her before twisting his mouth side to side. “So, these friends, they’re... like, the ones you normally hang out with?” 

A nod. “Yeah. Brittni and her boyfriend, Kevin. And, yes, I know you used to date Brittni.” 

“Ah, middle school dating. Can that even be called dating?” This time it didn’t really illicit a laugh from her and he grew serious for a moment. “Look, I won’t talk bad about her. Just, I know that crowd. Party crowd. And, you know don’t take this the wrong way, but that doesn’t really seem like your scene.” 

This time, Eris closed her eyes, giving a smile and laying her head in her hands. “It’s not.” 

Legacy Page

#ts4 #ts4 legacy #ts4 story #legacy challenge #sims 4 #rrl #rrl01 #rrl01w8 #rrl01d58 #eris #allan

[frank-ieros-lip-ring]

Red Cool-Aid ( Part One ) Halloween Special

//Tw// Blood

Vampire ( Pro Rev ) Frank × Gender Neutral Reader

( Think interview with a vampire type )

Authors Note: a female anatomy and male anatomy part two will be coming soon. Enjoy!

It's late and Frank and I are sitting by the mausoleum door in a nearby cemetery, drinking. Frank is one weird fucker. I mean, I love him, but he's fucking strange. He drinks nothing but red Cool-Aid. Even when we're drinking, he mixes his booze with the shit. And he won't fucking share with me. He's got fangs too. He's told me that he was an idiot and got them done as a body mod a few year's back while stoned off his ass. Not gonna lie though, they are pretty damn hot.

Even though I know the answer, I ask, " Can I have some of your Cool-Aid? " while biting my lip. " How many times do I have to tell you, Y/N? No. " he responds. " You really are addicted to that shit. " I raise my eyebrow. Frank, bringing his cup to his lips, gawks at me from over his cup. He wears a curious look. " The fuck you looking at? " I question. Putting his drink down, Frank says " Nothing, you just look great in that light. " making my cheeks flush a little. The moonlight shines down on me, seemingly making me glow. " Oh shut up. You know, out of the two of us, you're the hot one. " I respond, not meeting his gaze. 

He scoots closer and wraps his arms around my waist, pulling me close, and kisses me. Our lips move and tongues dance together in perfect unison. I slip my hand under his shirt and place it on the small of his back. A shiver goes down his spine and a sigh escapes his lips at the contrast between my warm hand against his unnaturally cold skin. Frank pulls me onto his lap and I take his face in my free hand. It's a blissful few moments before I hear some rustling from behind us. I break away and turn to search for the source of the sound. Then I see searchlights sweeping across an area not too far away from us. It's two night guards checking the grounds for trespassers like me and Frank. 

" Shit. " I mutter under my breath. I put a finger to Frank's lips when he attempts to speak. I quickly snatch up our belongings and motion to Frank to follow me. The guards are getting closer to us. We hug the wall of the mausoleum and slowly circle around it until the guards have passed. As soon as they've passed, Frank and I book it across the cemetery into the woods behind it. 

Once we're deep enough into the woods, I grab Frank and slam him into a tree, connecting our lips once again. I tangle a hand in his long hair. My other hand is pressed firmly against his chest. I move down from Frank's lips to his collarbone. He moans, leaning his head back against the tree trunk. His skin is cold against my lips. Frank is always cold. Even in the middle of summer. It's as if he's a living corpse.

Frank goes to switch places with me but I slip away from his grip. I giggle as he tries to grab hold of me. I dart around and hide behind trees. Frank is getting frustrated and lets out a low growl. His eye focus in on me, a dark look of lust within. I stare right back, defiantly, challenging him, before running deeper into the forest. I dodge around trees, bushes and tree limbs. I look behind me and see Frank chasing after me. I blink and all of a sudden he's gone. He magically ends up beside me. Next he's in front of me. How the fuck is he doing that? I'm not paying attention and I trip over a tree root. I don't even hit the ground before Frank is standing over top of me. Frank pulls me up and kisses me passionately, almost aggressively. I'm too confused and discombobulated to question how he's so quick. I kiss back while our bodies move and fit together like puzzle pieces.

" Fuck. "  I sigh as Frank sucks dark bruises on my neck. " Bite me. " I whisper quietly. He surprises me by actually doing it. He always refuses to do it, no matter how many times I ask. I feel his teeth sink deep into my skin.

How can I be such a fucking idiot? I had convinced myself to the point of blindness. The guy literally has fucking fangs. He's a God damn vampire. It isn't red Cool-Aid he drinks, it's blood. That's why he never shared. He's cold because he's technically dead. It also explains the speed. 

I can feel the blood draining from me as I grow weak. I can't think clearly and I feel disoriented. " What are you doing? You're silly. " I giggle, my brain going fuzzy. A tingling sensation spreads through my whole body. " It tickles. " I mutter, collapsing to the ground.

I'm starting to go numb. " Frank. " I whisper meekly. He finally snaps out of his feeding daze and comes back to reality. Frank's eyes widen in horror as he realizes what he's done. My blood drips down his chin. " What the fuck have I done? I'm so stupid. God, I'm sorry. Fuck, fuck, fuck. " he repeats over and over again. Frank looks at me, absolute despair in his eyes. He brings his forearm to his mouth and bites. " Please. " he begs me, shoving his wound in my face. He doesn't need to say anything for me to know what he's asking.

" Why didn't you tell me? " I ask, gasping to breath. " Please, don't talk, just drink. " he says desperately. I refuse and repeat my question until he answers. " Because I was scared to lose you. I love you. I knew if I told you, I risked scaring you away. How could you ever love a monster. I was selfish and now look what I've done. I'm about to lose you anyway ." He says softly. I take his hand, squeezing weakly. I bring his bleeding arm to my lips and begin drinking.

I immediately feel stronger. The more I drink, the stronger I get. A warm feeling fills my body. My teeth turn to fangs and my skin turns deathly pale. The taste of blood goes from metalic to sweet. It's a glorious feeling.

As the feeling fades, the change is complete. I pull away and watch curiously as Frank's wound heals within a few seconds. " I'm so sorry. I know that doesn't change the fact I nearly killed you, I have killed you, but I'm so sorry. I turned you into a monster. But it was the only way to save you. " Frank apologizes, voice cracking, avoiding my gaze. I look at him, studying him, not responding. " Say something, anything thing. " he pleads. I don't speak a word. Instead, I lunge suddenly forward and kiss him.

#frank iero #vampire frank iero #pro rev frank iero #frank iero fanfic #frnk #frnk iero #frank iero x reader #my fic

[katsuflossy]

can i get headcanons of going through a haunted house with bakusquad please? also congratss 💙💙

Pairing: Bakusquad x reader (platonic)

TW: obscenities

A/n: I had no idea if you had like the reader in the headcanon however I just put the reader as a minor role 🥰 I hope you like it. And shout out to Dee for scanning this hc with her eyes 💀

Taglist: @melanimed @iiminibattlehero @myhoodacademia @mypimpademia @ecao @mixfi @plutropica @lunabby010 @photosbyameil

🧯 Off rip Bakugo is complaining about how low budget and ugly the place looks

🧯 He’s going in like he’s the Gordon Ramsey of haunted houses, just straight up butchering the decorations on the outside.

🧯 “The ghosts look like shit with a white cloth over it. Denki, you dumbass why did you waste my time bringing me here!? I'm going home.”

🧯 It took a lot of begging and a promise of some spicy curry for Bakugo to enter the haunted house along with the rest of Bakusqaud.

🧯 They all thought it was going to be a piece of cake, they faced villains scarier than these “extras” in makeup and fake blood (guess who the hell said that)

🧯 Shoulda kept that mouth closed cause the minute that door closed behind them everyone went on their toes

🧯 In the front, we have Bakugo and Kirishima, who nervously took the role of leaders. In the middle, there’s you and Mina, holding hands so no one gets grabbed by one of the haunted house patrons.

🧯 Meanwhile, Sero and Denki flank rear, holding on to each other for dear life.

🧯All bets were off once the lights started flashing on and off at rapid speed. Mina covered your eyes just in case you were sensitive to the lights.

🧯 Bakugo and Kirishima got the first jumpscare. A bunch of holographic bats flew over their heads. Kirishima started flailing all over the place trying to get them off.

🧯 Bakugo also started flailing around. Mans quirk had him shooting explosions in the air like it’s the fourth of July

🧯 (He most likely made a hole in the ceiling but it blends in with the theme.)

🧯 Sero walked through the house, one hand held by Denki and the other holding his mother’s rosario. Sero don’t play with that ghost shit.

🧯 “Virgen de Guadalupe por favor ayúdanos.”

🧯 Mina may have the highest scream but Sero screams the loudest—and in Spanish too.

🧯 Gets worse as they walk through the rooms.

🧯 “¡No mamés!“ “¡Pinche puta madre!” “¡Chinga tu madre!”

🧯 It was game over once the patrons actually started touching the Bakusquad.

🧯 As you and Mina walked past a suit of armor, it suddenly came to life and grabbed your arm.

🧯 .5 seconds later that knight was sure as hell seeing stars the way Mina served them a nice right hook.

🧯 Whether he was playing dead or not everyone decided to sprint through the rest of the haunted house. The fear factor was way too much to be handled.

🧯 Kaminari may have been in the back but he was the first to exit the cursed building with his shirt discombobulated and his hair all over the place.

🧯 Second was Mina dragging you out by your arm. Both of you fell on the grass, catching your breaths from screaming your lungs out.

🧯 Sero leaped over you and Mina’s body, sprinting till he reached the out of the park, out on the streets.

🧯 Finally, Bakugo and Kirishima appeared in the exit, a screen of smoke behind them as they ran out into the crisp fresh air.

🧯 The next day Principal Nezu got a call saying UA students were now banned from the Haunted House due to property damage caused by explosions, corrosive substances, and multiple incidents of attack on staff.

#bnha bakugou katsuki #bnha mina ashido #bnha kirishima eijirou #bnha sero hanta #bnha kaminari denki #Bakugo x reader #mina x reader #kirishima x reader #Sero x reader #Kaminari x reader #bnha x black!reader #bnha x reader #bnha x black reader #bnha x poc reader

[tmngoose]

It’s time to info dump Rikki junk. The timeline is a little discombobulated but whatever:

(TW for child/general abuse &murder/death)

Rikki’s family estate is located in the spirit world, which is accessible via portals in the hidden city and secret areas on the surface (Earth).

The former head of the house—her Grunkle Gef—left to tour the surface as his popularity among the humans as a beloved folklore cryptid gives him joy in his profession.

Rikki’s mother (name TBD) becomes head of the house. Unlike Gef, she takes things very seriously. She is far from nurturing. Similar to Big Mama, she is a yūrei who hides behind the guise of a beautiful lady only to hide her true form.

If anyone stepped out of line, they’d be punished: physically or mentally. (Rikki will tell you, “Open hand slaps were for little things. Backhands were for serious offenses. And if she put the rings on, you knew you were in trouble.”) ‘Naughty children’ were locked in a shed—the isolation shed.

Somehow Rikki survives childhood and recognizes the way her mother treats her cousins and siblings is… wrong. Past Rikki’s apathetic facade: she provides the emotional care to her younger siblings/cousins that her mother never did. It’s where her soft-spot for children comes from.

The family business lies in hauntings and other ghostly activities. Some of Rikki’s siblings become successful in the business world, providing haunting advice and lending their spooky talents. They attend prestigious colleges and start their own families because that’s what mother wants of them. To tarnish Grunkle Gef’s legacy would mean instant abandonment.

Rikki applies to Hidden City University and eats the rejection letter. She forges a fake acceptance letter and deceives her mother. Rikki attends Hidden City Community College and for the first time, interacts with other yōkai.

For the most part, things go swimmingly. Although Rikki’s quick to learn yūreis get a bad rep thanks to those who are malicious, greedy, and horrible. Afraid of being exposed and judged, Rikki hides her ghostly self from others.

After graduating, Rikki lies to her mother (again) about getting a job and won’t be returning home for a while. Her mother is pleased and tells Rikki not to tarnish their family’s reputation.

Rikki performs odd jobs around the Hidden City: part time gigs that help her get by. Anything is better than going home and dealing with her mother.

One night, a group of yōkai attempt to mug Rikki, who uses her yūrei powers to thwart their plans. Somehow, through flattery and promises of respect, Rikki joins their gang—one of the many criminal syndicates that operates under Big Mama. Thus begins her criminal record.

But as time passes, Rikki notices nobody respects her and stealing things loses its appeal when her boss stops praising her. It clicks: the desire to impress people like her boss and her mother, just for a shred of praise and affirmation.

Upon this epiphany, Rikki states her resignation from the gang. It does not bode well for Rikki, who is left for dead by her boss in an alley.

… and, Rikki does die. Well, her body/vessel dies. When yūreis in possession of a ‘living-vessel’ die, the ‘ectoplasm regeneration process’ (ERP!) kicks in. Ectoplasm from around the body slowly pours into the wound, regenerating the fatal damages until ‘brought back to life.’

It’s during ERP that one must ‘sit vigil’ with the body, since it’s at its most vulnerable. Sitting with the body speeds up the regeneration process: something about ‘knowing someone is waiting for them to come back’ encourages the ectoplasm to return to the body faster.

(It’s not the first time Rikki’s died, btw. Gang work is dangerous stuff and sometimes sacrificing Rikki’s life was a trade off to get the rest of the gang out of harm’s way.)

Well… nobody wants to deal with a yūrei, especially when sitting vigil entails sitting in a trash laden alleyway.

… but that’s where Rikki lucks out! Clem discovers Rikki and decides to sit vigil. It’s the first time anyone’s ever done so and Rikki gets very emotional.

With no place to go—wanted by the Hidden city Police, her old gang keen on rubbing her out if they crossed paths, and her mother’s fury/the strictness of the family estate—Clem offers Rikki a job on the surface, stating it’s not a bad place to start over.

And so, Rikki leaves both the Hidden City & the spirit world behind for NYC. She lives in Clem’s shop for a while. But life on the streets as a criminal in the Hidden City is hard to shake. Rikki tends to swipe things from Clem’s secret store room and sells them to shady mutants/yōkai for a little extra pocket cash.

Rikki eventually gets tired of living in the candy store and answers an ad for someone looking for a roommate.

It turns out to be Red Fox. They get along great. Rikki even takes the risk of telling Red she’s a yūrei and Red doesn’t bat an eye!

Acceptance? A stable work environment? It’s more likely than you think!

Through Clem, Rikki meets the members of the Evil League of Mutants. They’re cool with one another (except Warren) and even goes as far as adding them to her ‘clientele’ — passing them ‘the good stuff’ from Clem’s stock room for food, money, or anything useful (you know, the barter system).

Does Rikki miss the Hidden City? Yeah, sometimes. Does she miss home? No, not really—but she does miss her younger siblings/cousins and she does feel guilty about not being there to protect them from her mother. She worries particularly for her baby cousin, Civette, who relied on Rikki’s presence. She’d write to her but the mail gets screened by her mother’s servants; too risky.

There’s this constant dread floating around Rikki. She fears of her mother finding out about her criminal record & her lies. And since Clem has ties with Big Mama (at least in my head he does), the thought of her old gang finding her whereabouts or causing trouble.

But for now, she’s got a good thing going: she’s employed, she has a roof over her head, a really great roommate (👀), and friends! Friends who care about her! It’s easier not to think the consequences will never catch her when things are finally looking up.

#tmngoosepost #rottmnt oc rikki #rottmnt oc #tw abuse #tw death

[eivorsjawline]

Chapter 8: Clean and Cut

Tw: Food, consumption of alcohol, and scarring.

You and Eivor go shopping for some more fitting clothes. After a succesful shopping spree, you head back home to relax and watch a movie with your lover. Unfortunately, you fall asleep halfway through the movie and Eivor decides she has some exploring to do. In the morning, you wake up and cook some breakfast. The chapter ends with a warm shower together.

Eivor’s POV

The reflection in the mirror stared back at me. I lifted my shirt and stared at the bandaged wound on my abdomen, every scar and pore on my body visible. I couldn’t help but feel insecure, never having seen myself from this close before. They were not pleasing to the eye but I always wore them with honor, each imperfection on my body from the large one across my cheek to the ones all over my torso. I lifted my shirt over my head, pulling the sleeves down to my elbows for a look at the ones on my back and stopped for a moment. A knock on the door startled me and I quickly readjusted myself and fixed my shirt. My hand held the door knob and slowly opened. Behind the door revealed Y/n giving me a small smile, she then asked me how I was feeling and if I found everything okay. I nodded and we walked over to her bedroom. The light peaked through the curtains and the room was tidy and kept.

“Eivor, Lay with me.”

Laying down in the large bed, I started to sink inwards. My body had never touched anything so plush and soft before. The bedding was pure white and the sheets soft. I imagine this is what resting on a cloud feels like. I turned towards Y/n and rubbed my hand across her arms, she rested in my chest and ran her fingers through my locks. She seemed to have an infatuation with my hair, I think it might be one of her favorite parts of me. When we embraced one another I never felt uncomfortable, she brought me peace. It pained me to think I almost threw everything we had away due to my selflessness, but she forgave me. Whatever feelings she held for me were always unconditional, even with my faults. Our lips met with a soft kiss, my hand holding onto the back of her neck. The kiss was short but intense until she pulled away and suggested we find some better clothes for me to wear.

Reader’s POV

I waited patiently next to the changing rooms for Eivor to reveal the outfits we picked out together, until I tapped on the door to check to see what was taking so long. When I opened the door she was almost fully dressed but needed a few tweaks from my magic touch. I grinned and helped adjust her pant zipper, which I could tell completely discombobulated her. She wore a slightly oversized gray shirt with a red flannel over it, the jeans were dark almost black and we picked out a good jacket to keep her warm. I fixed the collar of the jacket after helping her arms through the sleeve holes. Lots of pockets lined the sides reminding me that such a thing never existed in the Viking era. To finish the look, a black pair of 1460 Dr. Martens combat boots. She placed her hands in the pockets of her coat before giving a turn in the mirror, already feeling more confident. The shaved part of her head looked cut and clean from the haircut she just got, her Nordic braids falling just over her shoulder. The tattoo that covered her scar peeked through and when I stepped closer, the faint smell of a musky cologne radiated from her body. She was pleased with her new look, almost as much as I.

“Wait… I have a surprise.”

“Eivor, what are you doing?”

She had a small grin on her face when she pulled me outside and made me sit in a chair by the changing rooms. The door closed and I waited for her, “surprise”. We ended up picking a variety of sweaters, jeans, sweatpants, shoes and other fundamentals to start her new life. I noticed she stuck to darker and neutral colors, perhaps they reminded her of her armor. Time continued to pass as I heard Eivor shuffling in the dressing room in front of me. I started to count how many panels were on the floor beneath me until the door flung open and Eivor in a nice black suit stood in front of me. Her hands fiddled with her pockets as she looked down at the clean pair of dress shoes she had on. The sleeves hugged her biceps and thighs just enough and the low collar teased the skin on her chest. She looked up at me and did the cheeky smirk she always does, as if she knew just how good she looked.

“What do you think? Worthy of one of those things you call a “selfie”? I asked what I should wear if I wanted to impress someone. ”

My jaw dropped at the confident woman in front of me, whatever words I wanted to say were completely wiped from my mind. I gulped and stood in awe of her power before finally telling her how beautiful she looked. My mind just began to process that she, Eivor, asked for a selfie with me. Trying to control my laughter, I pulled out the camera on my phone. She pulled me closer and wrapped her hand around my waist, ready for the picture. The moment was so bizarre, taking a picture with a viking in real time. I snapped the photo and let her analyze it, she made a shrug before boasting about how good we looked. Suddenly, I was ready to go home and take off all the clothes we bought today.

“Alright, enough fun. Let's get out of here.”

When we arrived home, the day turned into night and I decided it was time to get comfy. I opened up a bottle of fine wine for me and Eivor, then pouring a glass for the both of us. Eivor made herself at home on the sofa while I popped in a Quentin Tarantino movie to watch. Some snacks laid on the coffee table and the smell of a lavender scented candle filled the room. Eivor opened up her arms for me to snuggle up to her chest. She wore a loose cut off tank top that exposed some of her chest. Our legs intertwined as my fingers ran over the tattooed skin on her arms and the movie began to play.

Eivor’s POV

I peeked underneath me to see Y/n eyes had closed. The film intrigued me so much I hadn’t noticed my lover fell asleep. I took a moment to think about how grateful I was that she remained in my life and admired the sleeping beauty atop of me. After readjusting myself, I placed two arms beneath her and cradled her body before lifting her up with ease. She rested her head on my shoulder and threw an arm over me, tired sounds escaping her. The door to her bedroom remained open and I pressed my back to widen the entrance. I threw the corners of her comforter to the side and laid her down gently in bed before covering her up so she wouldn’t be cold. My lips met her forehead with a soft kiss.

For an odd reason, sleep was the last thing on my mind. I closed the door behind me and made my way to the living room. She had a few books laid on the table in the middle of the room. Dozens in a bookcase nearby, some even collecting dust. Curiosity got the best of me and I turned the page open in one of her many journals. A feeling of sadness overcame me when I read the captivating yet melancholic words on the paper.

“November, 2nd 2020

The house is quiet as always. Perhaps, one day someone will find me worthy to occupy it with me. A woman to warm my bed on chilly nights like this. Suppression has only caused the deep sadness within me to grow and spread. I'm not sure what I’m doing with my life at this point, or what the purpose of this all even is. I don't believe I’ll ever be truly happy in my life at this pace. Maybe, the universe will send me an angel to guide me.

To love me…”

I rested my hand on my chin, as I read over the words repeatedly. She never told me she felt this way and I can't help but feel as if I read something I wasn’t supposed to. If she needed to speak to me about anything I know she would. I placed the journal back where it belonged and slouched on the sofa. My hand reached for the bottle of wine to pour another glass, meanwhile the window remained open and the tall lit up buildings could be seen even from afar. Mankind touched the heavens and my lips touched the brim of the wine glass. Cars raced below me and the bustling city never seemed to quiet. I began to understand how this overpopulated world is filled with so many lonely people.

I poured yet another glass of wine after finishing what I had lost count of. I flickered the light on in the bathroom before placing my hands on the sides of the sink and taking a good look at myself. Turning the faucet on, I then splashed some cold water over my face. Perhaps, it was an attempt to check if all that I’m experiencing is reality. My body let out a yawn and I made way to join my time-crossed lover in bed. I dropped the clothes I had on and laid underneath the covers. When I placed my hands over Y/n’s waist she shifted as If she woke up for a moment and shortly drifted off again. A kiss was placed on her bare shoulder before I felt my eyes begin to close.

Reader’s POV

The sunlight that peered through the window awoke me and I noticed Eivor was still sound asleep. Carefully, I stood up from the bed and tiptoed out the door. My cat meowed and pawed at the bowl on the floor next to her table. After refilling her bowl and checking her water, I started to rummage through the fridge for breakfast. After pulling out a couple skillets, I slapped a few slabs of bacon on the pan and started to cook them slowly. I gathered a bowl and started to beat an egg, adding some vanilla and cinnamon before dipping some bread in the mixture. The butter in the hot skillet started to melt and once the bread started to cook, the familiar smell of french toast filled the air. I flipped the bacon and pulled out some fresh strawberries to put on top of the toast.

Sure enough, Eivor stood by the hallway and let out a big yawn and stretch. She walked up from behind me and gave an embrace, placing kisses on the side of my neck and cheek. Eivor was always quick to run at the smell of food. She sat in a chair by the table with a silly grin on her face as I fixed a plate for her. Her eyes lit up when I placed the plate in front of her, even if it was a simple gesture. She started to scarf down her food as I sat in front of her stirring some sugar into my coffee. I passed some maple syrup towards her, a necessity in my opinion.

“Can't forget this.”

I chuckled and held my hand out across the table for hers to meet mine. The heat from the sun shined through the window and though I was unsure of how much time I had left with her, I enjoyed every second. Once we finished eating, Eivor stretched her legs out and jokingly rubbed her belly from how full she was. She had two platefuls after all. She was beautiful, even if she had just woken up and was yet to comb through her hair. Her deep and intense eyes held a certain ambiance, every scar on her body has become mesmerising to me. I stood up from my seat and onto her lap, straddling my legs around her as her tattooed hands grazed my backside. She looked up at me, a loving expression residing on her face. My eyes wandered to her right arm, examining the ancient tattoos. She held her forearm upwards, her fingers bending for me to get a closer look.

“This one here,” She pointed at the dated symbol and swallowed.

“Is in remembrance of my parents. I lost them when I was very young.”

I listened as she explained the story of her parents death, her situation became more clear to me. Though it was an old wound and whether she showed it or not, the impact was obvious in her now soft voice. Holding her arm out to the side now revealing a stitched symbol, she explained to me the meaning of the, “Aegishjalmur” symbol. Her people swore it granted protection and power to those who wield it. I listened patiently as Eivor guided me through every work of art on her body and she enjoyed telling me. My fingers ruffled her hair and I insisted on a nice hot shower, afterwards explaining how showers are better than baths.

When we entered the bathroom, Eivor pinned me in between her against the wall and we shared a passionate slow kiss. The nature of the kiss was purely romantic, rather than lustful. We undressed one another, her lifting my shirt and I hers. I undid the tie on her sweatpants and her body assisted me as they pulled down. I was only in underwear and those dropped shortly afterwards. I ran the water and adjusted the temperature to how I like it. Her hand played with the water running from the shower head, still puzzled by the small things from this time. Upon entering, the strong warrior had to jump back for a second from the water.

“How can you handle water this hot?” She exclaimed.

We laughed and I apologized before readjusting the temperature again. She let out a sigh of relief and let the water hit her naked body completely. My sinful eyes watched in pleasure as she applied soap over her body. From her broad shoulders, the muscles that poked out on them. To the water that fell upon her chest, the two hardened lumps that occupied her breasts. Finally, all the way down to the hairs on the middle of her pelvis. I applied some more soap to her body as for assistance, but I was truly worshipping the goddess in front of me.

“Turn around.”

“What?” She hesitated.

I nodded my head and gave a look as if I was demanding. Slowly, she obeyed and the deep cuts on her back from battle were exposed. It was always obvious to me that Eivor was insecure about her scars. The water fell down on her back washing the suds away, I placed my hand on her shoulder and she turned her head to the side with a concerned look. Eivor’s facial expressions relaxed when I started to place kisses from the back of her neck to the start of her waist. The mood changed completely when I pressed the front of my body to the back of hers, my arms wrapped around her sturdy abdomen.

“Eivor, you’re the most beautiful woman I have ever laid eyes on. Don't you ever forget that.”

She turned around in one of the most vulnerable states I had seen her in, my words triggering something within her.

#female eivor #ac valhalla #assasinscreed #fem eivor #eivor #assasins creed valhalla #f!eivor #eivor x reader #fan fiction #fanfic

[sickybubbies]

The Yellow To My Blue  [JHS + MYG]: Prologue

A/N: Did i disappear for a year? Yes i did. Am i going to make up for it in this series? Yes. Yes I am. Enjoy my loves!

Synopsis: College students Yoongi and Hoseok are what you would indefinitely describe as ‘polar opposites’. Jung Hoseok was that one bubbly student that everyone knew of. He’s always smiling and radiating warmth and happiness wherever he went, leaving a trail of glow from his halo he had on. And then there’s Yoongi. Min Yoongi was always scummbed in the corner of the classroom, wallowing in his grumpiness and overall bland exterior. He was dark and never up to no good. What happens when these two need eachother the most: in sickness, and in health.

TW: Emeto. Mentions and depictions of ‘vomit’ 

Pairing: Yoonseok (Sope)

Word count: 938 words

Yoongi hums to himself, staring at the road absentmindedly as he drives. He turns the steering wheel swiftly using the palm of his hand as he peeks at the rearview mirror and then at his fiance, Hoseok.

“You alright Seok?” He asks, his voice at his usual low and softness so he doesn’t startle the younger but judging from the squeak he hears from beside him; it startles him anyway to which he makes a mental note to apologise for later. 

“Huh? Ah yeah. I’m alright” Hoseok answers quietly before shifting in his seat a little and pursing his lips, his cheeks turn hot from the embarrassment of being pulled out of his thoughts. He hadn’t realised that he’d fallen silent for that long.

In Hoseok’s defense he was too busy trying to focus on anything, anything but the queasiness that was trying to discombobulate his organs and it was doing it’s job fairly well considering how his stomach gives another ominous turn. He sucks in a breath, fingers digging into the seatbelt that was strapped around his belly to give it a discrete tug so it loosened and didn’t add to his misery.

‘Just look at the trees Yoongi doesn’t need to know… focus on the trees...they’re so pretty...so relaxing...so green, but vomit can be green it can be green and yellow and thick and-’ Hoseok screws his eyes shut and sucks in a breath, begging himself to think about something else other than ‘that’. It was only making him feel worse, the rancid taste that sat on his taste buds growing stronger and he swallows as his stomach continues to churn.

Yoongi hums in acknowledgement, no real consideration in his voice because he just knows and sees through the white lie clearly. He wasn’t oblivious to his discomfort, Hoseok had been paling the more he drove on which led him to the conclusion.

“Are you feeling sick?” 

At that moment Hoseok lets out a big exasperated sigh. It makes Yoongi chuckle, he knew what that meant. He turns to Hoseok and he was definitely giving him the look, the ‘why-can-i-never-get-anything-past-you’ look.

 “Screw you and your fucking sixth sense” Hoseok grumbles, his guard now down as he unclicks his belt and slouches in his seat. He holds his stomach, grimacing as it twists and turns wincing at how hard it felt to the touch. He sighs, jolting with a small burp and his eyes widen in surprise at how sour and bitter it was. The tell tale signs of needing to vomit were beginning to catch up to him now that he wasn’t dwelled on hiding it, his stomach was churning and there was nausea clawing at him in the pit of his stomach which forces him to sit up.

“I think i’m gonna be sick,” Hoseok announces in a small voice, his hand moving to sit at his lips and cover his mouth. The grip around his jaw tightens as saliva begins to pool in his mouth and he audibly swallows.“Yoonie” He whimpers, it sounded sickly and urgent. 

“I’m on it Hobi. I’m pulling over now.” Yoongi says, slightly alarmed due to the frantic and messy situation that they were going to be tied in if he didn’t act quickly. He reaches over to grab Hoseok’s hand, giving it a gentle squeeze and holds it tight as he begins to assure him. “It’s okay, you’re okay, deep breaths Seok” He reminds while his eyes scavenge for somewhere to stop.

Hoseok nods and begins to inhale and exhale shakily, to let his fretting partner know that he appreciated his concern and wasn’t suffocating himself by forgetting to breathe trying to hold himself back. However as soon as the car halts Yoongi hasn’t even pulled the brakes and Hoseok’s scrambling for the locks of the door, he bolts out of the car in a stumble as he crouches over and begins to spit the saliva that began to overflow. 

Yoongi winces at the sounds of Hoseok’s coughs, they were thick and got wetter by each passing second and eventually resulting in a gag. He hisses, quickly undoing his own belt before following suit after Hoseok and letting his door slam.

 Yoongi catches up to him, placing a hand on Hoseok’s arched back as the younger heaves and brings up a mouthful of vomit which splatters into the grass. “It’s okay, you’re okay” He breathes out, hand smothering his back in tender circles choosing to stay silent through the ordeal and patiently waits for Hoseok to finish.

 “Why’s it orange?” Yoongi asks, it comes out too blunt for Hoseok’s liking and he chokes on his sip of water. He coughs and sputters as he screws the lid back on the bottle and wipes his lips using his free hand. “It’s because I had orange juice before we left..” He answers sheepishly.

Hoseok clears his throat, tilting his head at his fiance in confusion. “You know Yoongs, of all the years we’ve been together. I’ll never understand why the colours of my vomit fascinate you so much. Aren’t you disgusted?” He mumbles to himself, scoffing as Yoongi shrugs. 

“I don’t know. Maybe because I love you so much Seok?” Yoongi retorts with a flirtatious and smug smirk on his face, chuckling as Hoseok looks back at him disgusted at his cheesiness that he was never used to.

“Gross. Ah stop you make me want to puke again” Hoseok shudders, opening the bottle up again and pressing the rim to his lips as he smiles at Yoongi’s broad laughter and he thinks. 

A/N: hewwo! i hope you guys enjoyed this, remember this is just a starter there’s a lot more to come heh i’m really sorry for disappearing from the face of earth on this platform and barely updating things have been tough espescially after becoming a law student i barely have time for things nowadays because of how busy i am but I have been using the time to work on my writing skills and improve them I promise to update as much as i can from now please be patient with me i love you all!!

How on earth did they get together?

#bts emeto #bts sickfic #bts college au #yoonseok #sick!hoseok #caring!yoongi #bts hosoek #bts yoongi #bts yoonseok #sope au

[solarianvoidthearoace]

Excerpt#3 from my JonGerry AU WiP

CN/TW: smoking mention, disclosure of finances, discussion of sleep-overs, relationship negotiations, explanation of heteronormativity and amatonormativity, gender coming-out (sort of?), fond insults/banter

Still, Gerry cringed a bit,

“I suppose I have to apologise for not telling you…?”, he winced,

“I mean you couldn’t have known and… looking back it does feel like sort of misleading you, I mean all you knew was that I work two jobs.” They buried his face into Jon’s chest. Instead of commenting, he simply patted their hair, holding Gerry close and letting him be dramatic for a minute.

“Well, that does explain your insistence to pay whenever we are out together”, Martin spoke up after a minute,

“I noticed you even occasionally snatched the bill when Jon or I mentioned inviting us others.” Gerry slowly looked up,

“Well, yes. I can’t imagine you floating in money. I grew up working in a bookshop after all and it only really build a financial buffer after I sold it all to collectors. And Jon mentioned his overtime going unpaid more often than not. Plus it’s just nice to know I can do that for you without having to make cuts on anything. Only thing I really want to cut on is smoking, but that’s an intervention for another day, yea?” They gave Jon a gentle squeeze around the waist. He was still reluctant to let them go but did move onto the armrest of the armchair instead.

Despite Gerry’s reluctance, the three of them did talk a bit more about his finances, something he had glossed over when clueing Jon in about his art career. After some more reassurances that they won’t see Gerry in a different light, they let the evening end. Seeing Martin off at Gerry’s doorstep was weird, in Jon’s opinion. But turning around and knowing he was with Gerry to stay had him almost glowing.

“Home is where the heart is”, Gerry smiled, gently cupping Jon’s chin,

“Seems like I finally get both in one place.” Blushing, Jon looked down,

“It’s not like…”, he suddenly thought better of it, biting his lip. A gentle brush of Gerry’s thumb against his bottom lip, light nudging of their fingers under his chin, had him look up again.

“Not like what, doll?” He relented with a sigh, his exhale ghosting over Gerry’s hand,

“It’s not like I never called you my home before.” A warm shiver ran down Gerry’s spine, making them wrap their free arm around Jon and pulling him in. Instead of a kiss, which would have been so easy with the way they still held his chin up, Gerry rested their foreheads together,

“Welcome Home, then.”

Gerry had been right, though. With Jon no longer having an apartment of his own, Martin spend the occasional afternoon at their now shared flat. He didn’t really mind, they weren’t exactly friends with Martin themself but the man was nice to spend time with, even shy as he still was around them.

Besides, due to Gerry’s admittedly haphazard working hours without any structure or obvious sense to them - something Jon had called him out on multiple times before moving in - he always had an excuse to leave Martin and Jon in favour of working on his art.

Which was the thing responsible for his discombobulated working and waking hours, mostly. Gerry could admit to themself, that the secondary job at the bar was mostly to keep a somewhat steady life rhythm while adhering to his own night owl inclinations.

Between Jon’s nine-to-five, the overtime he often threw in on top, and neither of them needing to cling together every hour of their free time, it was nice. Maybe a bit more companionable than what other people would consider a romantic relationship, but they always had been liberal and somewhat alternative when it came to their life choices.

Which all is rather winded to say Gerry didn’t care that Martin picked Jon up on a Saturday morning. It was Martin who seemed bothered by it.

“And it‘s really okay with you if Jon stays with me from time to time?”, he was still wringing his hands over it. Gerry shrugged, leaning back against the kitchen counter and crossing his arms,

“Why shouldn’t it be? I’m the one he moved in with. Besides, it’s not like I ever was the type for heteronormative or amatonormative relationships in the first place.”

Martin’s brow furrowed, looking around in thought before his expression turned somewhat helpless,

“So, I know what heteronormative means, supposing every relationship ever has to imitate a hetero one with one partner needing to be feminine and the other masculine, clean-cut roles and divide into approximating that 40’s cliche of the obedient stay-at-home-wife.” He shuddered at the thought,

“But what’s amatonormative?“

Gerry pulled a face, lifting one hand to rub at his chin, elbow still resting where they had crossed his arms,

“Uh, m’kay, so…” He gestured, pulling a face in contemplation,

“It’s something asexual and aromantic people struggle most with, but basically it impacts anyone and everyone. It’s pretty much the belief that everyone needs exactly one monogamous romantic-sexual partnership as the end goal for their private life to count as fulfilled. So it does hurt anyone who doesn’t want to partner up for whatever reasons, as well.” They shrugged halfheartedly, waving his hands around a bit, before facepalming,

“Ugh, Jon is better explaining this, throwing in words like „sole focal point“ and „emotional hierarchy” and shit. Like, how it interplays with other relationships any one person has, society expecting them to prioritise their romantic partner with whom they obviously have to be sexually active, because society sucks.” They gave an exasperated eye-roll, huffing at the thought, before focusing back on Martin.

The man nodded slowly,

“I think I get it. So it also hurts anyone non-partnering, like you said, but also everyone non-monogamous, regardless whether the person is a-spec or allo. Huh, I have been participating in open or otherwise non-monogamous relationships for years and didn’t know we had that much in common with… I suppose primarily aromantic people.” He hummed a sort of affirmative noise, before blinking.

“It’s weird how many things impact a broad variety of people. Oh, that reminds me, how do you feel about gendered terms? I know I should have asked way sooner, but it honestly slipped my mind, I kind of just stuck with what Jon used for you. Like, which are okay?“ Standing more relaxed than earlier, their hands propped on the edge of the counter on either side of his hips, Gerry tilted his head. Some more of their hair spilling over that shoulder,

“I did already tell you I’m genderqueer, not a man and also not exactly trans-feminine. So as for how to refer to me, anything that’s fun”, they smirked, stroking the curtain of his hair back.

“I mostly go by what’s considered male terms, though. But among friends, as sparse as they are, I’d actually prefer everyone made an effort to remember I go by he/him as well as they/them pronouns. Even if I don’t exactly present that way, it is defining to me that I’m not actually a man. As opposed to you or Jon, who just doesn’t stick to gender connotations”, he couldn’t help his snort,

“Because where’s the fun in that anyway?”

Martin suddenly had a teasing glint in his eyes,

“So you’re Jon’s joyfriend?”, he smirked. Gerry raised a brow, fighting to hold back his own grin,

“Please, I’m always a joy to be around.” As he grinned back at Martin, there was a huff from the doorway,

“A significant bother is what you are”, Jon managed to get out halfway believably before softly smiling himself. Gerry’s expression changed, his eyebrow slowly raising while they gave Jon a sceptical once-over,

“Says the guy purposefully calling me Jared just to annoy me.” He scoffed, albeit smiling fondly,

“Love you too, Jon.“

“In my defense, I didn’t know of your name change then! I was just teasing because you were being a twerp.” The two of them were broken out of their bickering, before they really got going, when Martin let out a giddy squeal,

“You’re adorable!” After a short pause, Gerry faked an exasperated huff,

“There you go again, dipshit, ruining my reputation.” He had barely finished before he doubled over in giggles, which had Jon snicker as well. Calming down, they exchanged a fond look. The silence in the kitchen stretched, before Gerry pushed themself off the counter,

“Alright”, he gestured at shooing the other two out of the kitchen,

“Get going. I was promised a quiet Saturday. Take care, don’t do anything I wouldn’t do, don’t don’t anything stupid, either, and remember your bedtime. Now shoo!”

It still wasn’t often that Jon spend the night at Martin’s, but occasionally Gerry had his bed all to themself for one night at a time again. But somehow word about Jon’s changed living situation got out. Which in turn lead to his colleagues asking about the “new guy” he had moved in with while still dating their common former colleague Martin. It took Gerry some days to figure out the leak but that didn’t exactly make it better.

Sasha, Gertrude’s assistant and second-in-command, had caught onto someone having moved in with Gerry, connecting the dots with their recently resurfaced boyfriend. In turn, Sasha happened to know a snitch by the name Timothy Stoker, who decided to spike the gossip at Jon’s work with this new knowledge. Gerry finally resigned himself to having to plan a small house warming party, when Daisy, his barkeeper colleague, asked about it.

It was quite frankly beyond them, how everyone from his and Jon’s social circles seamed to know one another all of a sudden. In hopes of at least inconveniencing some people, he talked to Jon about picking a date for the party at random.

Didn’t work out. Miraculously everyone had time, a ride, and was up to snoop into their respective acquaintance’s or colleague’s private living situation.

#jongerry #fanfic #TMA fanfic #my writing #wip #my wip #Jon sims #Gerry Keay #Gerry Delano #JonMartin mention #au fanfiction #tma au #Gerry Keay lives #Gerry Keay uses he/they #he/they character #non binary gerry keay #writer is asexual #mention of trauma #relationship negotiation #nonbinary headcanon #gnc jon sims #gnc character #long post #long text #long text post #writer is aromantic #writer is genderqueer #TMA JGM #JonGerryMartin #JonMartin

[98prilla]

To The Dead

Previous 

Next

AO3

TW Past abuse, past murder, past violence.

...

It was Janus who finally found him. They’d been searching the house for nearly a week, trying to find where the spirit had gone, knowing he wouldn’t have gone far, was probably discombobulated and confused and afraid. But there were so many places to hide, so many places for shadows to coil unnoticed, and not even Remus, who had the most free range of any of them, had caught hide nor hair of him.  

 He’d been wandering, tugging endlessly at his gloves, when something caught his attention. A small movement, a small sound, a small flicker of something in the darkness of the basement, a small shadow of movement behind the radiator.

 “virgil?” He asked quietly, approaching slowly, trying not to scare the spirit with his presence. The shadow flickered darker, consolidating into a dark ball of void. He was having trouble maintaining a more physical form, not surprising, given how new he was to the astral plain of existence. “oh, darling. It’s alright, love. I’m here to help.” He murmured, crouching down a few feet from the radiator, not encroaching on the spirit’s space, trying to keep him from fleeing.

 “Who… who are you?” The voice was echoing and strange, like several speaking at once, speaking in a thousand different whispers that echoed outwards in a chorus.

“My name is Janus Perkins. I died in 1925. My spirit decided to linger here. I was a singer. A performer of the gilded age. This is where I died, well, this property. This house wasn’t here then. It was apartments, then. They got torn down not long after my death, well, murder. It was rather high profile at the time, singing starlet, murdered by jealous lover. Tried to frame it as a suicide, but he wasn’t all that smart, and left a ton of evidence. Still can’t decide who’s stupider, him for killing me, or me for loving him in the first place.” He pulled at his gloves once more, making sure they covered the deep slashes across his wrists.

 “oh. I’m… sorry.” He looked up sharply, Virgil’s voice coming out less echoing and more normal. His form had solidified somewhat, as well, the dark ball of void was gone, and now he was more of a solid, wavering shadow in the shape of his human form, though his details were still vague. He huffed, smiling smally.

 “it’s alright. I’ve come to terms with it, now.”

 “th-then why are you still h-here?” He paused at that question, thinking hard for a moment.

 “I’ve pondered that myself for years, now. I suppose I’m just not ready to go. I don’t want to leave the others.”

 “others?” The echo was back in Virgil’s voice, his form rippling slightly, fear destabilizing him, and Janus winced.

 “yes. I… there’s five of us, total. We were all worried about you, darling. We… I’m sorry. Whatever made you choose this, I’m so sorry.” His voice cracked, and he was surprised as suddenly Virgil was in his arms, form solid, shadows just barely dancing around his edges.

 “I j-just…I c-couldn’t… I couldn’t do it anymore… it a-all h-urt too much, I… no one c-ares anyway, no one… there’s no p-point…” He gathered Virgil into his arms, stroking his hair, Virgil’s face buried against him as he sobbed, clinging to his clothing.

 “Oh, lovely. Oh darling, I know. You’re not alone, though. Not now. Not ever. We were trying so hard, so hard, to get you to hear us, to feel us. We always tried to support you, get through to you. We’re here for you, darling.” He cradled Virgil close, rocking gently as his sobs started calming.

 “I’m n-not sorry. I sh-ould be sorry, I should r-regret it, I’m s-such a horrible p-erson, who d-doesn’t regret k-illing themselves?”

 “Someone who was badly, deeply hurt. It doesn’t make you bad, it doesn’t make you evil or wrong. You still deserve kindness, you still deserve love, you still deserve support.” He broke a little, at the soft shake of Virgil’s head. “the others have been looking for you. We all have. We want to help you.”

 “I’ll ruin it. I r-ruin everything. I d-don’t w-want to get inv-olved. I sh-ould just h-hide down h-here forever, r-rot away until e-veryone forgets I exist.”

 “why don’t you let them be the judge of that? Let them decide whether you’re worth knowing or not.”

 “they’ll leave. Everyone always does.” He sounded exhausted, and despite them being spirits and apparitions, they did still need rest. Moving and speaking still expended energy, though they didn’t sleep, really. More of a deep, trance like state. And the newest spirit’s fear and sorrow had drained him dry.

 “I won’t. May I stay?” He asked softly, teasing a hand through Virgil’s hair once more. He felt Virgil shrug weakly. That was good enough for him. “alright, love. Take a rest. You need one.” He pressed a soft kiss to the top of Virgil’s head, feeling him melt against him as he slipped into sleep.

 He took a deep breath in and out, before slipping them through the astral plain, back to their living room, in the spirit plain.

 It was odd, how the space worked. It shifted, based on their needs, it overlaid the physical location of the house, but sat slightly to left of it, in the realm of reality. They could still feel and sense what was going on in the physical location of the house, were still attached to it, but it was easier to manifest in this space, possible to interact with it. They could summon things to be used, hence Roman’s own sketchbooks and drawings scattered on the living room coffee table. They more physical of beings here, it didn’t expend so much energy, being here.

 Immediately, he settled on the couch, wrapping a blanket around the still shaking Virgil, resting his head atop his, relaxing slightly.

 “Janus? Where-“ He shushed Roman quietly but aggressively, freezing as Virgil shifted against him, before settling back down.

 “I found him. He’s resting at the moment, but…” he trailed off, looking up at Roman, a frown on his lips. “he’s so damaged, Roman.”

 “he must be. To do what he did… he must be.” Roman replied softly, sitting down beside Janus, just barely able to see a tuft of hair sticking up from under the blankets.

 “I wish we could have done something. I wish we could have stopped him. It feels so… useless, sweeping in after the fact. Like the world’s shittiest consolation prize. Oh, you’ve died, but you get all the support you could ever want, now that it’s too late.” His voice was sarcastic and bitter, and Roman sighed.

 “I know. I know, Jan. But it’s something, at least… at least he has someone here, already.” Roman said, and Janus winced. He’d forgotten, Roman was the first to haunt the property. Not the first or only to die there, but the first to haunt it.

 He’d died far away, miles away, fighting for the North, against slavery and oppression, despite originally being from the south. He’d always hated it there, hated coming from a rich family, hated that their wealth was built on the abuse and imprisonment and torture of a people, a culture. He’d done what he could for them, but it wasn’t near enough. So, when the war broke out, he fled North. He joined the union army. He fought for the people who had basically raised him, the nurses, the nannies, the maids, the harvesters, that died, were killed, were sold, he fought to his last breath to try and make right any ounce of the wrongs his family had committed.

 And then his spirit had found its way back home. Where the same people who had been slaves were now being exploited as ‘workers’. Gods, he’d wreaked havoc on that old house. He’d had so much rage, it had exploded outwards, slamming doors, moving shadows, nightmares that crept into everyone’s minds, that’s what had drawn Remus there and eventually forced his family to flee the property, selling it cheap to whomever would buy it, because it was cursed.

 Remus had taught him so much, about being a ghost, though he wasn’t actually a ghost himself. He wasn’t a human whom had died and lingered, he was a being formed from the chaos of the universe, a trickster spirit, of a kind, enjoying and reveling in the confused misery and chaos of others.

 Remus had still taught him about being a ghost. How to reign in his anger, to let some of it go, to contain himself so he stopped being the roiling, raging ball of light he’d become and remembered that he’d once been human to begin with. He helped absorb some of his negativity, some of his darkness, helped even him out to sustainable levels. They’d become close, quickly. But it had been a few long, lonely decades, before Remus. He’d been alone. And it had very nearly drove him entirely mad. He’s not sure how Remus had dragged him back from the abyss he’d been teetering at the edge of, but he had, and he’d never stopped being grateful for it.

 “Roman-“

 “I know, Jan. It’s fine.” Roman’s smile was tight and forced, but the sincerity in his voice wasn’t.

 Logan had died in a car crash, a professor in the 1950s. He hadn’t elaborated much more than that, had never found it necessary to. The details of his life were unimportant, now that he was dead.

 And Patton…

 Patton felt for Virgil more than anyone.

 Because Patton had been a victim of suicide, as well.

#sanders sides #tss #ghost au #janus sanders #remus sanders #logan sanders #patton sanders #virgil sanders #roman sanders #sympathetic janus #sympathetic logan #sympathetic patton #sympathetic virgil #sympathetic roman #sympathetic remus #ghost roman sanders #ghost logan sanders #ghost janus sanders #ghost patton sanders #ghost virgil sanders #poltergeist remus sanders #virgil angst #janus angst #roman angst #patton angst #logan angst #eventual happy ending #past violence #past abuse

[whynotwinnie]

Wounded: A Kylo Ren x OC fic

This is my attempted on a OC x Kylo Ren fic you can also find me on wattpad under Benniegogo. Please let me know what we think/ what i can improve on thanks girls and gays!

Venus is a natural born healer and during a battle she comes across a wounded Kylo Ren does she help the man that captured her from her home planet or does she leave him there

TW: battle scenes, blood

VENUS

Battle stations! Battle stations! 

All the healers gathered their medkits. Putting the official “healer” white coat atop of their First Order black uniforms. Of course, I have been in this situation before being forced into the First Order has made you prone to violence never before seen on your home planet. Nevertheless, the job you had was the same as it was there, to save people. 

Your droid X25-S beeped from beneath you signaling you that you have to go. 

“Ok ok,” you said. If it wasn’t for X2 you would be all over the place. You and X2 left the infirmary to the battlefield.

The battle started not even five minutes ago and random stormtrooper bodies were being brought back into the infirmary but you were always on the field. Most healers were scared of being on the field but there is a mutual understanding between everyone that healers are off-limits. Usually. Thus why we wear bright white coats. Stormtroopers are the most commonly hurt but we don’t get to heal all of them because they are “replaceable” or at least that’s what the higher-ups say. 

A stormtrooper fell in front right in front of you and you immediately got to work. If you were able to heal them right there on the battlefield they were to go back and fight. But if they were badly injured they go to the infirmary. This one wasn’t too bad a graze from a blaster on the shoulder. Easy work. You patched them up quickly and they went back to fighting without saying a word to each other. As you moved further into the battle you encountered a couple more troopers some bad some severely wounded and needed to be sent to the infirmary by X2. 

You can tell the battle was coming to end though you weren’t sure who was “winning” but you just couldn’t wait to be done and go back to your quarters and just sleep. 

You started running towards another body just laying on the floor but this one was different it wasn’t in the traditional stormtrooper armor. The body was dressed in black and with a matching black helmet. You stopped immediately just feet away from the body. It was Supreme Leader Kylo Ren. You have never been this close to him. 

Your stomach fell as X2 came at you feet beeping.

 Are you okay? Body ahead

“I’m alright but I…” You faltered if you were to save the supreme leader you would be helping the man that took you from your family and  Antoni. But it goes against everything you stand for, helping people, saving lives. 

Pulling you from your mental debate you heard a terrible groan that made you stomach flip coming from the body. That was all you needed to persuade you to help the supreme leader. You and X2 ran to his body and you kneeled to his side.

“Supreme Leader I am Venus and I am a healer do you know what happened, Where are you hurt?” 

No response but you heard his heavy breathing through the mask.

“Are you serious now is not the time to be all weird and mysterious.” You thought to yourself

“X2 run a full body scan” You suddenly forgot what to do in this situation. Were you able to touch him? Would he kill you if you did? Can you take off his mask? You touched a wet spot on the stomach of his robes. 

“Shit… Supreme Leader I am going to need to cut your robes to access the wound ok,” you said not making it a question. 

You grabbed your scissors from your back and cut his robes a blast to his stomach bleeding badly. 

“A critical wound to the abdomen also detecting signs of a concussion” X2 confirmed 

You pulled a Bacta shot from your bag you never have used one before because there is a short supply but seeing as this was a special occasion. You inserted the shot in his wound and the supreme leader groaned.

“I’m sorry supreme leader but I’m going to have to take off your helmet to see if you are bleeding from the mouth or eyes.”

“No.” 

“he speaks,” you thought

“Sir I have to see if you are bleeding internally please this is vit-” and then you heard footsteps approaching speaking a foreign language that you did not know

“ I shot him and he went down in that trench keep an eye out.” X2 translates 

“Shit we got to go take him to the infirmary.” You turned and looked at the supreme leader looking not so supreme in his state. You took out your stretcher and laid it next to the supreme leader. 

“This might hurt supreme leader.” You said as you pulled his body onto the stretcher. Another groan from him. You pressed a button on the bottom of the stretcher and it slowly started to rise until it was about at your waist.

“Supreme leader I am going to take you to the infirmary now. X2 get a private operating room for the Supreme Leader and don’t put a name under it just put mine.” You laid a white sheet over his body.

“Hopefully they think it is just a body and not the supreme leader of the galaxy.” You thought

“Ok, let’s go X2.” You pushed the stretcher and ran up the trench dodging bodies and blaster shots. 

“Why are they shooting I’m not a threat” and then you remembered it’s because you had the supreme leader in your care if you wouldn’t have picked him up everyone wouldn’t care about you but you knew what you were doing was right. 

A bomb went off at your feet knocking you away and hitting your head on the rocky ground. You turned discombobulated for a second until you yelled “X2 get him to the room now!” and the stretcher now followed X2 as you tried to stand up. The world was spinning and you shuffled/ tripped your way back to the First Order fleet. 

#commander-kylo #kylo x oc #kylo ren #star wars #the force awakens #the last jedi #adam driver