#dead zone void thoughts

[abluethingphantom]

I think since I know it's the dead zone hours that I'll post some thoughts. I think I'll go up to six. This is just things I've thought about lately that I'm throwing here, because I don't know what to do with them. 🤷

You don't have to read this I just needed to get them out of my darn noodle.

I feel bad that I'm not super talkative on the internet. I'm super shy, and anxious with meeting new people. I just worry people may not like me. But so far I've met some great people so far so I want to keep trying to make connections.

Migraines suck ass. Ngl the 4th of July is the worst day to get one.

I over do it also on projects a lot I have a bunch of new ones to do. As well as my own visual novel I keep trying to work on. Ngl, I have so many thoughts and Ideas, but it's hard to do them all. It's probably why I get burn out so often.

I want so much to branch out creatively since I was forced into a box of just making stuff for a certain fandom for almost 6 years. There's other stuff I like too like DoL it's been really fun getting into it so far. Also making stuff for some other fandoms I just feel like a one trick pony, or an art cow that can be easily replaced for that fandom now. Also that no one bothered to get to know me outside of maybe two people in that fandom in the almost 6 years of being in it. It makes me very crestfallen everytime I think about it. I just feel like I don't belong anymore I guess.

Intrusive thoughts, and worrying about the future also suck ass. I've been having a hard time lately due to this.

I wish I could be more open like other people are, but I don't want to annoy anyone. Also 99% of the time I have no clue what to talk about so Idk it might be okay then.

[pedroscurls]

stranded (one-shot)

summary: your car breaks down on the side of the road and a stranger decides to help you out... and you have no choice but to accept his help.

pairing: no outbreak/dark!joel miller x fem!reader content warnings: EXPLICIT CONTENT (18+ ONLY MDNI), DUBCON - please read at own risk / heed warnings!, stockholm syndrome, unprotected p in v, rough sex, manhandling, oral sex (m receiving), orgasm denial, begging, creampie, joel ties you up, spanking, light choking, fingering, age gap (reader is in 30s, joel is in 50s), no use of y/n. word count: 5.1k a/n: and here's yet another story where i'm stepping out of my comfort zone. i've always wanted to write dark!joel, but felt like i couldn't do it justice... but then ali's (@pedgito) hosting a writing challenge (spring fever) and i figured... why not? i chose backwoods horror #1 STRANDED/SIDE OF THE ROAD. please heed the warnings, y'all. this is gonna be very dark and filthy, so if you're not into that sort of thing, that's ok!

You had no idea what you were thinking—taking a solo cross country road trip after quitting your job. Maybe you thought that you’d find yourself, find some kind of purpose that was lacking in your life, but instead, you’re stranded on the side of the road. Gas empty, no cell service, and phone already on its last battery. 

This is where you’re going to die—you’re sure of it. It’s how all horror movies start and despite the sun still high in the sky, you’re increasingly getting worried about what could happen when night falls. You scream at the top of your lungs, the sound echoing through the vast empty void. 

God, no one would hear you scream for help if you were in real danger and that thought simply frightens you. Your friends had all but praised you for this trip—this journey to self-discovery and reflection. Your parents, on the other hand, had already been concerned when you said you would be alone on this trip. A woman, traveling the world by herself? Well, that’s just asking for trouble, they said. 

And now you understand their concern. You understand their fear about you traveling all alone because of where you are now—in the middle of fucking nowhere. You should have refilled your gas when you had the chance, should have charged your phone while you were driving. Should have, should have, should have. 

10%—your phone reads. You try to send a text to your parents, to send them your location, but every attempted text just comes back with the message in red text and an exclamation point next to it: NOT DELIVERED! You raise your phone in the sky, hoping that maybe you’ll get one bar of service, but no luck. 

The trip had been successful, up until this point. You were in Texas, that you were sure of. But where in Texas? You had no fucking clue. 

You lean against the side of your car—the sun glaring down at you and you can feel a thin sheet of sweat on the side of your neck. Why did you think this was even a good idea? Traveling cross country without a plan—how fucking naive. 

Your battery drains fast and your phone finally shuts off. You let out a quiet sigh of frustration and open the passenger door of your car to toss your useless phone inside. Just as you’re about to climb in, you hear a faint noise of a car engine. Suddenly, you feel hopeful—maybe you won’t die here after all.

The sudden excitement that you feel overpowers the possibility that what you’re doing is absolutely dangerous. You’re waving your arms in the air, trying to track down the person in the car who’s making their way in your direction. It’s possible that this person whose truck is slowing down as it nears you could very well be a serial killer, but what choice did you have? 

The truck pulls up behind your car and quickly, you run over to your savior. Your hero. 

“Hi. My car’s dead, my phone’s dead, and I just need a lift to the next gas station... Or any place where I can use a phone to give someone a call,” you blurt out, breathing heavily. 

He turns his head slightly in your direction—eyes gazing at your face, then down to your shoulders and the rest of your body that he can see from the driver’s side. You’re leaning against the opened window of the passenger side of the truck. You don’t belong here, he knows that for sure. 

“Next gas station is in the next town over,” he finally answers. 

“Could you give me a lift there? I can pay you. Let me just grab my things and—”

“No need,” he interrupts, voice low. “I’m headin’ in that direction anyway. Get in.”

You grin and Joel’s jaw ticks briefly. God, you’re beautiful and it’s truly been a long time since he’s been with—

“Promise you won’t kill me?” you laugh, climbing into his truck and interrupting his thoughts. 

Joel finally takes in the rest of your frame and can immediately feel his length stirring beneath his dark jeans. His hands grip the steering wheel to ease some pressure, but you’re still talking and you’re laughing and it shoots straight to the center of his pants. It must be his lucky day. 

“If I were to kill you, I don’t think I’d be confessing that, darlin’,” he answers—the corners of his lips lift slightly. Oh, you had no idea what you just got into by climbing into his truck. 

“Right,” you reply. “That’s a good point.” You look at him—taking note of his damp hair that’s slicked away from his face, his broad frame, salt and pepper patchy beard. You realize that he must be in his fifties, but you can’t help but notice how handsome he is. That’s a good sign, you think. He won’t hurt you. He’s going to drop you off in the next town and hopefully, you’ll be able to head back home in the morning. 

“I’m guessing you live around here?” you ask, feeling the truck move back onto the main street. You glance out the window, watching your car become smaller and smaller as Joel drives further away from it. 

“Yeah,” he answers. “Guessin’ you ain’t from around here.”

“That obvious?” 

He just nods. Joel needs to focus on the road ahead of him. He has to make it seem like he’s not a threat, like he’s not just about to take you directly to his home. His secluded home. 

You introduce yourself formally, telling him your name and turning your body to face him. “What’s your name?”

“Joel.”

“You’re a man of few words, aren’t you?” you smile in his direction and Joel glances at you from the corner of his eyes. 

“Not much to say.”

“Well, how long is the drive to the next town? If you don’t have music, I’m gonna end up talking. I don’t usually like it when it’s too quiet on a drive and—”

“It’s about fifteen minutes,” he interrupts. “Radio is busted.” 

“So talking it is then.”

“No use in talkin’ if we ain’t gonna be seein’ each other after this.” 

“I guess you’re right,” you answer with a sigh. You try to remain quiet, fidgeting with your hands as you stare out the window. Every few seconds or so, you glance over at him and you can’t fully read his expression. He’s so stoic that there’s a part of you that feels like an inconvenience to him. Maybe he should have just kept on driving. 

“How long were you stranded for?” Joel asks. 

“About a couple of hours. Couldn’t get reception to call someone.”

“Yeah, phones don’t work out here.” Joel shrugs. “You eat anythin’ yet?” 

You shake your head. “Skipped breakfast this morning to get on the road.”

“My place is just a couple of minutes away,” Joel says. “I need to grab a few things. Got some food and water for you,” he offers. 

You smile and reach out to rest a hand on his forearm. It’s an innocent gesture, but it makes Joel shift in the driver’s seat. Your touch is so soft, so gentle and he flexes his arm underneath your fingertips. “You’re sweet, Joel. That sounds great. I am starving.” 

Joel bites back a smirk. He’s got you right where he wants you. 

Your hand drops from his arm and there’s a subtle frown that settles on his lips before he pulls off the main road. Within minutes, Joel pulls up to his secluded home. When he shuts off the car, he looks over at you and you’re still smiling. 

“This is a cute place, Joel,” you tell him, climbing out of the truck. 

He follows you and rounds the truck until he’s standing behind you. His fingers itch to reach out to touch you—especially when you raise your arms over your head to stretch, the ends of your shirt lifting just above the waistband of your denim shorts. He wants to touch every inch of you and he lets out a quiet grunt when you accidentally fall back against him. 

“Sorry,” you say, looking over at him from over your shoulder. 

“S’fine,” Joel mumbles and then walks past you to walk towards his front door. He unlocks it and opens it for you, watching you step across the threshold as you look around with curiosity. 

“It’s very dark in here,” you point out, walking further into his home. You see a light switch on the wall and flip it on, illuminating his entire home. Surprisingly, Joel’s large hand encompasses your wrist in a tight grip. You let out a quiet gasp and turn around to look up at him—eyes wide, lips slightly parted. 

“You always like to make yourself comfortable in a stranger’s home?” he asks with a threatening tone. 

“S–sorry,” you whisper, trying to pull your wrist away from his grip but he doesn’t budge. His grip just tightens. “Joel, you’re hurting me.”

“Pretty little thing,” he mumbles, stepping closer to you. “It’s like you were waitin’ f’me out there,” Joel says quietly. 

“Joel—”

“Shh.” Joel brings a finger up to your lips and his eyes drift down, moving his thumb to brush against you. “Shh, baby.” 

“I think I want to leave now,” you answer. “I think I just want to head into town and—”

“Oh darlin’,” he grins. “Ain’t no town for at least another fifty or some miles.” 

“B–But you said—”

“Guilty,” Joel interrupts, turning you so that your back presses against the wall. He cages you in, hand still gripping your wrist as the other comes up to rest gently over your throat. “M’sorry I lied to ya.” 

Your eyes widen in horror, the realization finally hitting you like a freight train. You had spent most of the drive admiring him—his broad frame, his quiet and mysterious nature, his large hands that gripped the steering wheel, his husky southern accent—that you ignored the feeling in the pit of your stomach. 

This was a bad idea. 

Getting into his truck was a bad fucking idea. 

“I just want to go home,” you whisper. “Please just let me go home and—”

“Shh,” he repeats. Joel steps closer to you, his nose brushing against your own. “Gonna keep you here all to myself. Been a while since I had a little plaything like yourself.” 

You shake your head. “Please, I’ll give you all the money I have back in my car.”

“Don’t want your money. Want you.” 

“Joel—”

“Love the way my name comes out of your mouth, darlin’. Say it again.”

You shake your head, closing your mouth shut. You know you’re in danger, but you’re not sure why you feel a familiar wetness pool between your legs. Your body is responding to him—to this stranger… this handsome fucking stranger who can easily strangle you if he wanted to. 

“Say. It. Again,” he repeats.

“Joel,” you whisper. 

“Good girl,” Joel grins proudly. He drops his hand from your throat and releases his grip around your wrist. He stares into your eyes, searching for any hesitation or any inclination that you’re going to run and leave. He sees your eyes flicker to the front door and he narrows his eyes—his large hand once more coming up to splay against your throat. Joel applies just a bit of pressure and he watches your eyes go wide again. “Wouldn’t think about it, if I were you.” 

You beg with your eyes—apologetic and pleading for him to just let you go. “I’ll be good,” you mumble against his grip. “I promise. I–I’ll be good.”

“We’re gonna have a lot of fun,” Joel nods, releasing his grip around your throat. “And I bet if I were to reach between your legs, I’d feel just how fuckin’ wet you are f’me, won’t I?”

You shake your head in defiance. “N–No…” 

Joel lets out a chuckle. “Mmm, that so?” He tugs on the waistband of your denim shorts and pulls you to him. He’s so rough and there’s an excitement that courses through your veins. He tugs down your shorts and panties down your legs, looking down at your white lacy thong with a grin. He can see a blotch of wetness and brings it to his nose, inhaling deeply as he lets out a contented sigh. “I bet you taste fuckin’ good too,” he whispers. 

You suddenly feel self-conscious and your hands immediately move to try and tug down the end of your shirt to cover your lower half. Joel just shakes his head and grabs your wrists to pin them above your head against the wall. You squirm against his grip and he kicks your legs apart, stepping in front of you to keep them spread open. His free hand comes down and immediately runs the pads of his fingers across the length of your sex—your body betrays you because you let out a quiet whimper as you arch your back against his touch. 

“Wet,” he points out. “You like this, don’t you?” 

You shake your head. 

“Liar,” he chuckles. Joel wastes no time in sliding two of his thick fingers past your folds—your warm, tight, and so fucking wet that a large grin spreads across his lips. 

You squirm against him at the sudden and rough intrusion, eyes gazing up at him. His eyes are dark, filled with lust and more than likely sinister thoughts, but you can’t help but notice his grin and the cute fucking dimple that appears on his cheek. You shouldn’t like this, but your body is yearning for more. Yearning for him. 

Joel’s thick fingers plunge into you repeatedly—his other hand gripping your wrists so tight above your head that you’re sure there’s going to be bruises. You shut your eyes tightly, keeping your lips in a thin line and forcing yourself to stay quiet because you know that if you make a sound, it’s only going to fuel him further. 

His eyes stare deeply at you and you’re so wet that Joel’s fingers pump into you with ease. He can see you struggling against his grip and he leans closer, lips near your ear as he whispers huskily. “Lemme hear you, baby.” 

You shake your head in defiance, pulling your lower lip between your teeth. You suck in a breath when his thumb brushes against your clit and a quiet—almost inaudible—moan escapes your lips. 

“Ah, darlin’,” Joel grins, gently nipping at your earlobe. His grip around your wrists loosen just slightly and he’s distracted, yearning to pull more sounds out of you and it gives you just the right moment to push him away. You miss his fingers immediately, a loud squelch echoing the walls when his fingers slip out of you. 

With as much strength as you can muster, you shove him so hard that he stumbles backwards with a grunt. You look around haphazardly, eyes wide, heart beating out of your chest. You’re very well aware that your lower half is bare, but you think maybe you can make a run for it—you just need to grab his keys, run out the door into his truck and drive away. 

You glance over your shoulder and Joel chuckles. He fucking laughs at your poor attempt at running away because he takes three strides in your direction and takes a fistful of your hair. You let out a loud yelp and he’s already quick to bend you over the back of his couch—the edge of it digging into your lower abdomen.

You’re already trying to squirm away, but his grip in your hair tightens and pain rushes through you. You’re about to beg him to stop, to beg him to let you go, but you feel his free hand connect with your backside. The slap reverberates through your entire being and the sound of his hand coming in contact with your ass echoes through his quiet home. 

“You just got here, baby,” he growls—he doesn’t let up, your skin already reddening with each spank. “You can’t leave me yet.”

“I–I–” you mumble and your body reacts automatically, pushing back into him. “Please!” 

“M’gonna have to tie you up, I think,” Joel grins. “Just to make sure you don’t pull that shit again.”

Your ass is beginning to sting and you try to scramble away, but Joel pulls you upright against him. His large hands move to your hips, fingertips digging into you as he uses your body to rub his bulge against you. 

“I think you’re gonna feel real good around me,” he whispers into your hair, hand sliding over your abdomen and down between your legs. “You’re actin’ like you ain’t enjoyin’ this, but you’re so fuckin’ wet f’me.” 

He begins to circle your clit with the pads of his fingers and it causes your back to arch against him, hands darting out to rest on the edge of the couch. A loud moan finally escapes your lips and Joel lets out a low growl at the sound—he wants to hear more of it, craves more of it. 

“From the way you’re squirmin’,” he continues, “Makes me wonder if you’ve been neglected.” 

You shake your head—lying.  

“Oh? Got a boyfriend back home, hm?” 

You shake your head again.

“Poor little thing,” Joel mumbles, head dipping down to the side of your neck as he presses his soft lips against you. It causes a shiver to run through you—his soft lips and his rough beard. “Don’t worry, baby. I’m here now. I’ll take care of ya.”

You’re an absolute mess by the time Joel’s done with you. You’re lying on his mattress, hands bound by rope and attached to the headboard. You’re completely bare for him and he’s brought you to the edge of orgasm too many times to count that you’re practically begging for some release. 

His hands are surprisingly gentle when he settles himself back between your legs and it causes you to flinch. His fingertips brush against your hardened nipples, dark bruises already forming around it from his love bites—he liked to call it. 

“You’re soakin’ my sheets, honey,” he grins. 

“Then let me fucking come!” you retaliate with a huff. Your eyes go wide the minute it leaves your mouth and you’re already trying to scramble away from him, despite being all tied up. 

Joel laughs again. “You’re cute when you’re angry, baby… but let’s not forget who’s in charge here.” 

He finally pulls the ends of his shirt over his head and you lift your own head off the pillow to get a good look at him. There’s no way this fucking man is in his fifties—you shake your head of the thoughts that begin to fill your mind. He has you here held captive and you’re sure that he’s going to kill you once he’s gotten what he needed. 

But you can’t help it. 

Joel’s fucking gorgeous. 

Is this what Stockholm syndrome is? Attracted to your captor? Whatever the fuck it is, you’re squirming impatiently. There’s a dull throb between your legs, an ache, a need for him to give you what you need. 

And he smiles. The same fucking dimple that appeared earlier that day is now in full display because Joel knows he’s got you right where he wants you. 

“Gonna be a good girl f’me? No more fightin’ back?” Joel begins, reaching down to tug his boxers down his strong legs. Once the fabric is gone from his body, your eyes widen once more at the sheer size of him. Girthy. Leaking at the tip. You’re not sure if it’d fit inside of you and Joel notices a flicker of uncertainty flash across your features. “We’ll make it fit, baby. Don’t you worry.”

You whimper quietly in response, feeling him brush his rounded tip against your opening. You try to wiggle your hips down, yearning for more, but he just pulls back and shakes his head. 

“Please,” you plead. You bat your eyes at him, gazing at him under the rim of your eyelashes. It’s a poor attempt at begging, at looking innocent because you look anything but that. 

Joel just lets a small smile line his lips before he pulls away and mounts your upper half. You clear your throat—the size of him this close almost threatening. 

“Don’t be gettin’ shy on me now,” he growls lowly. “Been pleasuring you for a while now, so it’s only fair that you return the favor.” 

“I–I haven’t come yet. Please just let me come and I’ll do anything—”

Joel clicks his tongue and runs the tip of his manhood across your mouth, smirking at the sight of his precome now on your lips. “You ain’t the one in charge here.” He pushes his tip past your lips and lets out a low groan. One hand moves to grip the headboard ahead of him as his other hand keeps a steady grip around the base of his length. “Open wider f’me,” he whispers. 

You have no choice but to obey—parting your lips wider and feeling more of his manhood slide into your mouth. You can feel the corners of your mouth stretch due to his girth. It isn’t long before he pushes further into your mouth, feeling him hit the back of your throat and you gag almost instantly. Tears sting your eyes and he only gives you a few seconds to breathe before he pushes back into you. 

You squeeze your legs together, trying to alleviate some pressure that has been building and building between your legs and the pit of your stomach. You glance up in his direction only to see Joel with his head tilted back, chest and neck exposed, and his eyes completely shut. A quiet groan escapes his lips as he begins to move his hips forward and backward—you swirl your tongue around him, hollow your cheeks and it causes him to moan loudly. 

And fuck, it’s a beautiful sound to come out of him. 

He’s moaning. He’s deep in his own pleasure. 

And it’s all because of you. 

By the time he pulls out of your mouth, Joel’s eyes snap open to look down at you. Lips swollen, tears streaking down the corner of your eyes. You’re so distracted by your desire to come that you don’t realize what could possibly happen once he’s done with you. 

You’re going to die. 

Joel is going to fucking kill you. 

And this cross country road trip you had originally planned was a stupid fucking idea. 

Joel sees a look of fear flash across your features and it only makes him smile, makes his cock jerk at the sight of you. He moves down your body and settles himself between your legs again. 

“Gonna fill you up now,” Joel nods. “And you’re gonna lie there and take it like a good girl.” 

You nod. 

His hand comes up to grip your chin roughly, staring into your eyes. “Say it.” 

“I–I’ll be good. I’ll take it like a good girl and—”

Without warning, Joel pushes fully into you in one stroke. You feel your body jerk upwards at the sudden intrusion and you’re lucky that you’re so wet because while he slides in so easily, you can’t help but feel the painful stretch to give way to his size. Your hands try to wiggle out of the bondage, but the rope just digs further into your skin—it’s like he expertly tied you in a way that the more you struggle, the tighter it gets. 

Joel’s hand moves from your chin to cup your breast, thumb brushing against your nipple as he remains still for a moment. “Feel so good,” he whispers, head dipping lower to brush his nose against yours. He can hear you panting heavily, lips parted slightly. “Like you were made f’me.” 

Then, Joel pulls out to his tip only to slam himself back into you. He repeats this movement multiple times and your moans—the ones that you’ve tried so desperately to hold back—finally escape your lips and mix in with the sounds of his skin slapping against yours. 

The bed rocks against the wall—his thrusts are so rough and you’re sure that your entire body is going to ache for the next few days. 

That is if you’re still alive by then.  

One hand moves to your hip as the other moves to wrap around your neck. He applies a bit of pressure to cut off your oxygen and you gasp, eyes wide as you stare up at him. 

Begging. 

Pleading. 

Not for him to stop… 

…but for more. 

Joel grins at that and continues his thrusts, the sensation of your walls sliding along his length only urging him closer and closer to release. He can feel the tightness in the pit of his stomach begin to unravel and he pulls out, not yet wanting to be done with you. 

When Joel does pull out of you, he releases his grip around your throat and hears you take one deep breath. You’re breathing heavily and he looks between your legs—so fucking wet, so swollen and he taps your clit gently with the tip of his manhood only to see you squirm. 

You’re sensitive, he thinks to himself with a grin. 

“Joel,” you whisper. At this rate, you don’t care if you die. Having him bring you on the edge of an orgasm only to stop is worse, you’re sure of it. 

“Gonna keep you here forever,” Joel says with a dark gaze. “You’re mine now. You understand?” 

You clear your throat and nod slowly—anything to get him to make you come. “Y–Yes, yours.” 

“Doesn’t sound too convincing.” 

“Fuck, Joel! Please,” you beg. “I don’t care what you do to me, please just let me come…” 

Joel chuckles—dark, sinister. He leans down and lightly pecks your lips before he climbs off the bed to look at you from top to bottom. “Like I said, you ain’t the one in charge here.” 

Your eyes stare at him and you notice the way his manhood stands fully erect, glistening with your arousal. He follows your gaze and smirks, reaching down to tug on it. “This what you want?” 

You nod. “Please.” 

“So if I untie you, you gonna be a good girl and obey?” Joel contemplates, still stroking the base of his length. His hand doesn’t feel as good as being inside of you and he almost loses his resolve. 

But he doesn’t. 

Joel’s patient. 

“Y–Yes, please,” you plead once more. 

“Love hearin’ you beg, darlin’,” he grins. Joel slowly reaches over and begins to untie the rope around your wrists but he makes sure that his attention is focused on you. He needs to make sure that you’re not going to run again. 

Once the rope is finally undone, you roll your wrists and touch the bruises around it. You flinch and then look up at him—eyes still pleading. 

“One wrong move and I’m tyin’ you up again. You hear me?” Joel growls, seeing you move to sit up. You nod in agreement and he tugs on your ankle, pulling you to the edge of the bed with such force that you let you a quiet yelp. 

Joel flips you onto your abdomen and grabs your hips, lifting you up so that you’re now on all fours on his mattress. He comes up behind you and slides into you with warning—again. 

A loud moan escapes your lips and you fall forwards—cheek resting against his mattress, eyes fully shut tight, and your hands gripping the sheets so tightly that your knuckles turn white. 

“Feel even tighter this way,” Joel points out with a grunt. 

Your toes curl at his rough assault against you. It’s like he’s possessed, so territorial and so animalistic that his thrusts drive you further into the mattress. You wanted this, but you can’t help the pain that shoots through you at his size. Joel’s by far the biggest you’ve ever had and it wasn’t like you had a healthy sex life before this. 

“Fuck!” You scream, now trying to scramble away from him because it’s too much. He’s edged you for too long that you’re sure you can’t even get there—your body is humming and you can feel the familiar sensation in the pit of your stomach. You’re close and Joel knows. 

He laughs and grips your hips, pulling back onto him with such force that you arch your back. Joel grabs your arms and pins them at your lower back as he pulls your body forward and backward against him. He glances down and sees just how wet you are—the hair at his base completely damp from your arousal. 

“You wanted to come… then fuckin’ come,” Joel groans, pulling you up against his chest. He grunts into your ear as he keeps your arms pinned at your lower back. His other hand reaches around and dips lower to begin circling your clit against the pads of his fingertips. 

You moan so loud that it echoes throughout his home. Your head tilts back against his shoulder and he drags his teeth across the side of your neck—both your bodies now covered in a thin sheet of sweat. 

“J–Joel, I–,” a loud sob escapes your lips when you finally reach your orgasm. Your body shakes against his own and his thrusts don’t let up—still hammering into you from behind and using your slickness and tightened walls to bring himself closer to his own release. 

“Fuck,” he groans against you, releasing your arms and pinning you back onto the mattress. His hips sling against your own—Joel is literally fucking you into the mattress and you’re already so fucking sensitive that you try to move away. 

Fuck him. If he wanted to deny you of your orgasm, you can do the same to him. 

But it’s no use. Joel’s so much stronger and his large hands grip your hips so tightly that you feel pain from it. 

“S’cute,” he says in between thrusts. “Thinkin’ you can run away.” Joel grunts lowly, chasing his own orgasm. “Can promise you one thing, baby…” He slams into you once more and releases his warm seed into you—paints your tight and wet walls with his come. He leans forward, pushing further into you as his tip kisses your cervix. “You ain’t ever leavin’ me.” 

He presses soft kisses along your shoulder before he pulls out, watching with a smirk to see his come trickle out of you and down your legs. 

“You’re stranded, darlin’. Ain’t no one comin’ to save you,” Joel grins. “And I ain’t even done with you yet.”

[bet-on-me-13]

Undead Galaxy

So! Within the Ghost Zone, there exists a Lair unlike any other.

To a Ghost, a Lair is supposed to be an integral part of their Existence. When a Ghost Builds their Lair, they take a part of the Ghost Zone Itself and mold it into a Realm of their own, transforming it into a reflection of their Core.

As such, a Lair usually matches the personality, and more importantly the Obsessions, of the Ghost it was created by. It is meant to be the Eternal Home of the one who built it, a place to spend the rest of their eternal unlife, and as such it needs to be able to fulfill the Ghosts Obsessions.

Think of Skulkers Lair, an Island Jungle filled to the brim with Monsters and Beasts of all sorts, ready and waiting to be hunted down and skinned. The perfect home for a ghost with an Obsession based on Hunting.

Some take this a step farther, like the Ancients (which is just another name used for Gods in the Zone), who transform their Lairs into Entirely Seperate Afterlives for others to inhabit. Hades, Osiris, the Demon Lords of the various Hells, they all took this approach.

But there is a problem. For beings like God's, who are sustained by Worship, what would happen if their world were to die? If the planet their people resided on were to be hit by an asteroid, or blown up by an Alien warlord?

A God without its worship would Fade, and as such the Afterlife they used to maintain would fall apart as well. The Millions of Souls who trusted that God to protect them in death would be left to the mercy of the Void between Afterlives. Somebody decided that they didn't like that, and stepped in.

Within the Ghost Zone exists a Galaxy.

A Galaxy where all the souls and Afterlives of worlds that have died continue to exist. Worlds that were destroyed by a cataclysmic War that resulted in both sides dying, by unstable Mining Practices destabilize the Core, by a Psychic Virus that wiped out all life on Planet leaving a baren husk.

When their populations died, and the Gods who maintained their afterlives would have faded, they were saved by another and brought into his Lair.

The Ghost King, Phantom.

He was a spirit with two simple Obsessions. The Protection of others, and the Majesty of Space.

But there was no Space in the Ghost Zone, only the Infinite void. So he made his own. He constructed a Lair of incredible size, decorating it with Stars and Planets and Supernova and Nebula. He recreated the Majesty of the Space he adored, and the invited the wandering souls of dead worlds to enjoy it with him.

He gave them planets of their own within the Unliving Galaxy. All the souls of crumpled afterlives wandering the Ghost Zone were allowed to recreate it again, to find eachother and build their communities again.

With this he could fulfill both of his Obsessions at the same time, and he would he doing his duty as their king by helping his subjects.

He saw it as an absolute win.

...

They had been trapped in this strange dimension for days now.

Nobody had any idea how they ended up there. Clark had just fallen asleep, Diana was training, Hal was on patrol. Even J'onn himself was on Moniter Duty, when the next thing he knew they were all waking up on a floating purple rock in a Lazarus green void.

Thankfully Constantine that had been dragged alongside him when J'onn when he was taken, and managed to explain that they were in some kind of void in-between the afterlives.

"The Ghost Zone" "The Unending End" "The Collective Dead", it went by many names apparently. The most famous name for it was "The Infinite Realms", named for the way the infinite souls residing there would build their own personal Realms, or Lairs, to spend eternity in.

Not even he knew how they had ended up there. Constantine was confident that they hadn't died recently (the fact they needed to use "recently" was a sad thought), so it wasn't the old fashioned way at the very least.

Still, they needed to get moving. This place was dangerous and they didn't want to stay in one place for too long.

After days of traveling across the strange void (had they even eaten since they arrived there?) Constantine finally caught a hint of something. There was a draw on them, pulling them towards a specific direction. They had been unconsciously following it for days now, and now that they knew what they were doing they soldiered on even faster. If there were answers wherever they were being drawn, they would find them.

Once it came into view, it was obvious what had been calling to them this entire time. It was massive.

Spanning across the endless horizon, they could see something that looked like a Galaxy spanning in front of them. From their position on a floating island, they could see it in all its glory. Contrasting the green they had become accustomed to, the Galaxy swirled in a variety of Bright Blues and Deep Purples, with multicolored stars shining so brightly they stood out even as far as they were from it.

It took all their breaths away, and J'onn would admit to having stood there staring for longer than he should have. It was just so starkly different than anything he had seen thus far in this dimension of greens and purples.

"Beautiful isn't it?"

In an Instant their weapons were drawn and fighting stances set, facing the person who had appeared in their midst.

He was a young man, seemingly in his early 20's, with snow white hair and Lazarus green eyes. Above his head sat a crown glowing the same color as the galaxy spanning in front of them. They all knew instantly that this man was connected to it on a deep level.

"Who are you" Asked Diana. Her thoughts were filled with theat assessments and carefulness. She thought he was strong.

"Oh, my name is Phantom." He replied, "Sorry for startling you, this is one of my favorite spots to stargaze and I forgot that normal people usually can't see me when I zone out like that."

"What is that?" Clark asked, pointing to the Galactic Structure on the horizon. He was curious. The man before they didn't act hostile, so he had decided to match his energy.

"Oh, that's my Galaxy. Like it?" He asked excitedly, "Took me ages to get it looking just right, but I'm so proud of the results."

"Do you know why we are here?" Asked Hal, his mind was swimming with worry over his Sector of space. He had been taken while patrolling it. He wanted to get back quickly.

"I didn't bring you here, if that's what you're asking." He replied evenly, "But I know who did. They wanted to see you again, but with their Realms crumbled and their people scattered, they never had the chance. Now they do, and they wanted to say hello again. Sorry about the long journey, they messed up the Summoning process and you ended up a bit farther than intended."

"Who summoned us?" Asked Constantine warily. His thoughts were full of the various demons and gods he knew inhabited these Realms. He was worried.

"Well, You, accidently got dragged along through proximity, sorry." He apologized to the magician, "But as for the rest of you? Well, you'll just have to wait and see for yourselves. Trust me, it'll be a welcome surprise."

"Can you tell us where can we find the ones who summoned us?" Asked J'onn finally. He was curious, and wary, of who had decided to pull them into this dimension. But if the man before them was being truthful, then he wanted to meet them.

"Just keep following that pulling sensation that brought you here, you'll find them." He said, "I'll stay here for a while longer though. Just want to stargaze a bit more."

They left him on the island and kept going.

As the approached the Galaxy, it dawned on them how truly massive the realm in front of them was. Hal confirmed that it wasn't as big as a real one, but even he was in awe at its size.

As they drew closer is quickly became apparent that they were being drawn in different directions. After a quick discussion they decided it was best to split up.

J'onn approached the Planet he was being drawn to, and realized very quickly that it very closely resembled his old homeworld, Mars. The Red Sands, the Rocky Terrain, the two Moons that could be seen orbiting the planet, all of it seemed tailor made to resurface memories of his destroyed home.

It took all of a second for all of it to come together in his head.

The allusions Phantom had made to his summoners missing him. The resemblance to his old Homeworld. The fact he was currently in a version of the Afterlife.

As he made the connection in his head, he felt another two connections form. Ones he had not felt in the the Centuries since he had lost them.

"Hello, J'onn."

"...M'yri'ah..." His wife.

"Hi dad."

"...K'hym..." His Daughter.

It took nearly a full minute before his mind calmed enough to send them a response. It was a Whirlwind of wild thoughts, fear of this being a trick, and above all hope that it was real.

Eventually, he finally managed a response.

"I missed you."

[atoltia]

Their Little Nest

In which MC reorganizes their house over time and Sylus, because of an offhand comment from the twins, thinks she's nesting.

Sylus x fem!MC fluff

Pregnancy thoughts and talk.

-0-

It started with the little things.

Tiny potted plants sat prettily on his shelves, the many side and coffee tables in the manor, their little pops of green and brightly colored petals brightening what once was a corner of shadow.

It wasn't like Sylus didn't keep plants in the house, no. It was just he didn't pay them any mind besides making sure the staff was taking care of them.

So it really came as a surprise when he suddenly found himself watching you and the twins hauling boxes into the house, chattering about plant growth and such as you took out several lamps.

"Kitten," he said from his position by the doorway, strong arms folded over his chest as he leaned against the frame. "With that much light, you're going to start to photosynthesize."

You turned, smiled at him as you tilted your head up to nuzzle into his chin when he strode towards you. You held up two different types of lamps for him to see. "They're lamps."

"I can see that."

You chuckled, leaned against him when he reached over to fiddle with the lamp in your hand. "I didn't know if I needed sun lamps or grow lamps for the plants so I got a lot of both."

"Mm." Sound logic enough, he thought. He patted her head. "Let's set them up, then."

And so they did.

(Even though both of you did bicker about adding a grow lamp - not the sun lamp - in his office for that tiny desk succulents you graciously added to his massive workspace.)

(He conceded, of course.)

But it didn't stop there. Not that he expected it to stop, knowing you.

It was a rough day. A negotiation that Sylus needed to get done didn't pull through as the moron representing the offending faction decided to get flustered and pulled out a gun at him, voiding the deal and thus resulting in a gun fight.

The situation was dealt with easily enough, but the cleanup needed his attention particularly because they had several protocores that he was aiming to acquire and wasn't going to leave without them. Alas, as they refused to make it easier for everyone involved, they had to waste not just his time but his ammo as well as his perfectly cut suit.

Sylus landed on the couch with a groan, relief finally flooding his bones as the tension in his body started to dissipate. He wasn't bleeding any longer, but the aches remained, a dull thrum consistently buzzing so much that it prevented him to experience the relief of sleep.

While the fog enveloped the N109 Zone to obscure it from the wrath of the sun, the instinctual yearn for daylight annoyed him. The mere ghostly memory of the sun on his skin made him purse his lips, the mere thought of it sapping his already drifting energy.

He turned his head, buried it into the pillow-

He blinked, propped himself on his good arm as he stared at the pillows. Gone were the hard blocks of stone that posed for a pillow that he just never bothered to replace, seeing as he was in pain often enough that the uncomfortableness of them barely registered to him anymore. What sat under and beside his head were soft, the slight fur on the covers lightly tickling his cheek as it cradled his head, rapidly easing his throbbing headache.

Long fingers flexed, his brows furrowing when softness once again surrounded his senses.

There was a thick blanket beneath him, separating his battered body from the worn and cold leather of the couch.

Now, Sylus is a perceptive man. Being observant of his surroundings and having the ability to react accordingly is part of his job description, his lifestyle. One misstep, a single moment of carelessness, and he could end up dead.

He was sure these pillows and blanket were not here before he left the house no less than eleven hours earlier.

"Sylus."

He turned, alert eyes softening at the sight of you, drinking up the image of you in one of his long-sleeved button-ups that hung over your significantly smaller frame, your hair mussed in multiple directions.

A lazy, crooked smile adorned your face as you hummed his name, your eyes still drooped with sleep. The adorable crow plushie was cradled lovingly in your arms.

You took your time to cross the room, loved the way he settled back onto the couch as he watched you, those wonderful scarlet eyes not once leaving you. You accepted his outstretched hand, your laugh softly lilting in the air when he pulled you into his embrace.

"Hi," you purred, your body molding perfectly into his.

"Good morning." There was a tenderness in the room, blanketing the both of you as you cuddled on the couch. You cherished moments like this. It's not so often that Sylus would get home when you wake, and while you know that your beloved wasn't all too fond of the mornings, you also know that the man made sure to make time for little moments like this despite his busy schedule.

"You changed the pillows," he muttered, his deep voice rumbling as he nuzzled into your hair.

"Did I?" You kissed his exposed clavicle, trying to hide your smile.

"You did."

"Maybe the twins did it."

He snorted, his fingers digging into your hips before massaging it as his other hand fiddled with the leather that held your knife strapped to your thigh. "They would've have bought a vibrating couch before they get to the pillows."

You laughed. "That's true."

A beat of silence. Just two lovers laying on a couch, sharing whispers and secret laughter as the sun rose far beyond the N109 Zone.

It was peace.

Oh, if only that peace lasted.

It's been a few weeks since that little moment on the couch, and Sylus couldn't fathom how they went from there to where you were at this moment.

He sat on a stool on the kitchen, watching you clean what seemed like the eighth room in the manor and you didn't have any indication of stopping soon.

None of them knew why you were in such a frenzy to clean, but you knew it was important do it Right Now. He offered to help you, of course, after having a quick round with him arguing that you should just leave all the cleaning to the staff, seeing as that's one of the primary reasons why he hired them in the first place.

"Sweetie," he said, exasperation leaking into his usual smooth voice. "If you keep at it any longer, I'm gonna have to clean you up from the floor."

You scoffed, hissed when he tried to grab the mop from you. "You better sit your ass down before I dismantle all of your guns again."

"Oh?" His voice, sickly sweet, as he trailed the tip of his fingers up your neck, tilting your face up to meet his gaze. "Will you, now?"

Your eyes glinted, lips curling into a menacing smile as you passed the mop to your other hand, completely dodging his attempt to take it from you as you pressed your body sensually to his. Deft fingers from your now free hand lightly tapping playfully against his chest. You crooned. "You know I will."

A stare down. Something not too uncommon between the two of you. A pair of strong, stubborn people unwilling to yield.

Most of the time.

"Alright," he conceded. Sylus knew, even without peering into your desires, that you will not budge on this matter. So he sat, admitting full well that this isn't an issue that's worth having an argument over.

It only took one look from him to shut the twins' guffaw from the other side of the door. He could ignore the snickering, however.

"This is like the third time she cleaned this room," Kieran whispered to his brother.

"Fourth," supplied Luke as he enjoyed the way their boss was sulking at the counter. He didn't look like he was sulking, Luke knew that full well, but he just had that feeling. "You were too busy buying detergent when she cleaned this last Monday."

"Ah."

"Hm."

"Maybe she's nesting or whatever."

Luke hummed, shrugged. "Maybe."

Sylus was a man of composure. Not even the most lethal of situations are able to get a rise out of him, and even if it did, no one would be able to tell from his perfected poker face.

That was the only reason why he didn't fall out of his stool.

Could you be pregnant? But you two have been so careful, so sure that the both of you have done the necessary things to have safe sex. But it wasn't impossible, he knew. It was also possible for non-pregnant women to exhibit nesting behavior. Surely, you'd tell him immediately if something was amiss or... if you were experiencing some symptoms.

Children, huh? He didn't think he'd be a great father. If anything, he'd be a horrible one considering the simple fact that he brought danger with him anywhere he went.

He was hard lines and violence, bloodshed and death. The sins that he's committed - and will commit - was unfit for a father. A good father.

But... he supposed it would be nice to have children running across the house. His and your kids. A physical manifestation of your love.

It's not that he needed to have a mini version of himself. As far as he knew, he never had any inclination of even desiring to have them. That avenue of conversation hasn't opened up between you too, either. He didn't know if you even wanted to have children.

Children with him.

And he wouldn't mind it if you didn't want them. They were a commitment, not just some playthings to be discarded once the novelty wore off. It would take a lifetime.

Yet... It's a nice thought.

"Darling?" It was well into the night. You and Sylus were already snuggled up in bed but you knew something was off. Ever since your little event in the kitchen, Sylus has been drifting, sometimes zoning out into space. It was very uncharacteristic of him.

So you waited. He'd tell you eventually.

Yet you have to admit to yourself that you can be impatient.

Those eyes of his, momentarily dazed, focused on you. The room was dark, the steady thrum of the air conditioner droning in the background. And still you felt his eyes on you, focusing, focusing, his arms pulling you in closer to his body.

"Yes?"

"What's wrong?"

Of course you'd see it. Not that Sylus even attempted to hide it, seeing as you'd peer through him eventually. You waited for him to speak, frowned when you felt the spiking of his evol. "Sy?"

"Are you pregnant?"

You sputtered, pushed up from your position on the bed. Your hand quickly tapping the button for the lights.

Warmth illuminated the room as you stared into his eyes. You thought he was joking, thought he was pulling your leg, but the emotion that stormed his eyes moved you, surprised you.

"No."

"Are you sure?"

"Sy." There was distress in his voice, something that you thought you'd never hear. "My period finished a few days ago."

He closed his eyes as he let that information sink in, nodded. Released a breath. "Okay."

"Sylus." You nudged him, urged him to open his eyes. "Sweetheart, what brought this on?"

Sylus sighed, feeling as though the energy was tapped from him. Well, there was no reason to beat around the bush on this. "Kieran mentioned you might be nesting."

For all the time you've spent with Sylus, you knew that man rarely blushed. But the pink that dusted his cheeks and ears endeared you, the heartbeat that you loved listening to spiking.

"I'm sure, Sy."

"Right."

He didn't know if it was relief he felt as he held you, fingers kneading into the dip between your hips. He sighed. Gave you the smile that was only reserved for you.

"Why did you change the pillows?"

You tilted your head, smiled back, leaned down to kiss his nose. So it came back to the pillows.

"I wanted you to be comfortable whenever you collapse on the couch."

"The plants?"

"This place is stuffy without them."

"And the cleaning?"

"I don't like the way the staff cleaned our house."

He stared at you, those gorgeous garnet eyes of his looking at you with a mix of adoration and complete and utter confusion. He blew a breath.

"I was overthinking, then."

"You think so much all the time, I'm surprised it's taken you this long to short circuit."

"I didn't short circuit."

"You don't have access to seeing your expressions, darling."

You laughed when he pinched your sides before your hands slip up and cupped his face. "I love you, you know that?"

"I know." His voice dropped down an octave as he trailed open mouthed kisses from your shoulder to your neck. "I guess that's why you're making me insane."

You snorted. "You never needed my help with that, dumbass."

He nipped your neck, nuzzled. "I love you, too."

"Mm." But you took his hand, pressed it to your stomach, stared deep into his eyes. "Do you want to have children with me, Sy?"

Your eyes were impossibly deep that he couldn't look away. Couldn't even think of attempting it.

"Yes."

Straightforward as ever, Sylus is. You blew a breath.

Swung your legs over him and straddled him in one swift move.

"Maybe we can start trying now, then?"

-0-

this has been running in my brain for days and i just had to write it asfsdg

check out my other sylus fluff fic!

and another sylus fic but with a cat :>

[marrowkind]

Wanted to take a crack at some Disco Elysium-style portraits and thought I'd pay homage to one of my favorite games, OFF.

Thought process for each under the cut:

Batter - Stark, graphic style to reflect his dogmatic views. More some vague ideal than a human being. His bat serves as a barrier between us, cuts off his head, and is a burden upon his shoulders. He is in profile because he is defined by movement; behind him is only a white void. Pale cyan because it complements red and white, and isn't used for any zone in the game. Faces to the left, aligned with the Puppeteer

Judge - Friendly, trusting body language (back to you). Faint halo since he can be thought of as Zone 0's guardian. He has his zone's colors. Batter casts a shadow over him with a faint cyan light, foreshadowing the end of the game (the bat crossing the Judge's neck). Faces left, aligned with the Puppeteer (also foreshadowing).

Zacharie - Purposefully video-game-y with strange perspective and coloring closest to the game. Pixel edges, the top edge of the dialogue box. He is distant and placing a small barrier between him and the viewer with his arms. Looking up, at his mall location. Centered, neither aligned nor against the Batter or Puppeteer.

Sugar - As a secret boss, it felt apt to keep her in shadow, only catching some of the doorway's light. Rough and spattery to hint at her sugar use, similar to how the drunks are drawn in Disco Elysium. A more sickly yellow to help remove her from Judge and move her a little closer to Enoch (again, sugar). A foe, facing right.

Dedan - Profile, because like Batter he is defined by action. Not afraid to get his hands dirty, facing the meat waterfall (which is red like the boss background). Rougher textures. Painted in the colors of his zone. The clock numbers are a reference to his attacks and a halo for his guardian status. A foe, facing right (you get the idea).

Valerie - Valerie is dead, hence the big X, the rictus-like facial expression, skull-like head, and large eyes clouded with Japhet's color. His composition is the inversion of Judge's. His body is vague; this is not about him. The wings, of course. I found the use of red in Disco Elysium's corpse portraits very striking, so I wanted to do that here. Japhet, acting inside Valerie's body, is wrathful, and this is expressed in the tense body language. You first encounter him in the library, so he gets blue.

Japhet - Honestly, most of this comp was just "how do I get Japhet in frame?" I wanted him to feel massive. He gains the color of his zone from the reflected light from the ground. The music notation is a reference to his attacks. One of these forms his halo.

Enoch - Like Japhet, I wanted Enoch to feel big but also wanted his face in view; these are portraits after all. His attacks are drama terms, so he gets a spotlight. This, combined with the smoke, creates his guardian halo. With the intense orange, I wanted to evoke both his zone colors and its incinerators. The smoke and sooty texture also allude to this. Besides ash, the particles can resemble sugar. I liked the idea of him being so large that much of him is in shadow. Enoch is very menacing (but also charismatic), and I hope I captured that.

Queen - The most complicated. Mortis Ghost drew her with a skull face once, which stuck with me. The moth is from her chapter's title card, it matches how we don't really see her face or eyes. Her hair is meant to evoke the battle screen background; this was clearer when the original comp was more zoomed out (I had matched the silhouette). Her color is black because of her chapter's color scheme, chess (her attacks, she is also acting second), and the opposite of Batter's primary color. There are hints of the zone colors in her hair as she grants all zones her power. Her halo is the sun Hugo drew her as; she is, after all, his god. The cold front light from Batter returns.

Hugo - The most human of them all. The pattern from his room makes his halo and evokes a crosshair. He is centered; he is not a combatant. He is afraid, small, the meat is a small barrier between him and the Batter. The lighting gives him a bit of a skull-like look, his flesh tones are sickly.

Puppeteer - The Puppeteer is a character, narratively. The game needs your participation and acknowledges this. I thought an older computer would feel right, besides allowing for a better monitor reflection. This one's what it says on the tin.

Bad Batter - He now faces right! Oh no! It's just Batter but worse. Violent spatter. If you look back at Batter you might see there is already the suggestion of teeth along his jaw.

[fruitiesss]

two's company || bob reynolds

a oneshot in which bob can't sleep and asks for help <3

pairing: bob reynolds x reader

tags: fluff, nightmares, mentions of the void, past drug abuse, if i missed any please lmk a/n: atp i'm pulling this out of my ass i have no motivation. (send asks pls) enjoy :(

word count: 690

The soft hum of the tv filled the emptiness of the room, drowning out the sound of the city that never sleeps just outside the window. Bob's head rested on the plush blue pillow that he'd turned over about 50 times that night in an attempt to find a comfortable position. His heavy gaze settled on the smooth of the ceiling as his hands gripped the edge of the duvet.

He was never going to sleep like this.

With an exasperated sigh, he threw the cover off and sat up, feeling around in the darkness for his slippers and shirt before trudging through his room into the hallway of the tower. He hadn't been able to sleep since he'd turned the whole of New York into shadows and plummeted into his personal hell. The Void calls out to him when he's most vulnerable. Bob shook his head as he snapped out of his thoughts and continued to walk, he'd exited his room and moved down the hallway, standing on the other side of another door. For a moment he hesitated, his hand held up as he was about to knock. He was reconsidering waking you up again for something as small as this. He was selfish for even thinking you'd help him out again. That was until he heard shuffling behind the door. Without thinking, his knuckles rapped on the hardwood and he held his breath as your quiet footsteps made their way to the door.

You answered the door to a reluctant apologetic smile as Bob stood in the doorway, his index finger scratching at the skin around his thumbnail.

"Can I," He started, cut off by your hand wrapping around his arm and tugging him inside, shutting the door gently so you wouldn't disturb the others. Escorting him to your bed, Bob allowed his body to be maneuvered onto your soft mattress as he started to apologise for waking you up.

You shushed him, hands resting on his cheeks as you stood in front of him, thumbs rubbing in a soothing motion. "I was awake anyway. Just tell me what's going on, okay?"

Bob let out a heavy sigh and let himself rest in your hands, his shoulders falling in relaxation. "My brain is too loud." He sighed, eyes meeting yours once again. "I'm just itching for something to distract me, really."

"Oh, dear. You need to get some rest." You uttered and sat beside him, arm wrapping around his middle to pull him closer. He seemed to recoil at your sudden touch, only melting into it when he knew what you were doing.

"Lay with me?" Oh god, those puppy eyes would be your undoing. Bob followed you as you lay down on your bed, head positioned on your pillow. You were well aware of Bob's past struggles as well as his current ones but those wouldn't stop you from holding him as close as you can.

It was times like these, dead in the night, when Bob would crave that high he once felt. Everything has been numb since then, like he'd been living under water, until he met you. You brought that feeling of ecstasy back in the best way possible and it was much healthier than anything he could ever take. His face now buried in the junction between your shoulder and neck, eyes shut and hand on your waist as he breathed in time with you.

"Thank you." He whispered breathlessly, relief filling his voice, no longer shaky and unsure but relaxed and content. Your hands threaded through his soft hair, playing with it mindlessly as you zoned out. You replied with a hum of acknowledgement as your own eyes shut alongside his. You'd take any version of him like this, void, sentry, broken, whole - all of it was him, and you'd take nothing else.

Bob's eyes opened to the warm light pooling through the blinds on your window, his tiredness sated for the first time in what must have been days. They scanned the room before settling back on your sleeping face and he realised that this is where he belonged.

[eclipsturns]

𔓕⠀﹫ christophersturniolo needs comfort ﹙just like you﹚﹗

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ࿙࿚֒ ࿙࿚ ࡛ ֹ warning ! ۟

alright, i want to start this by making it clear that what you’re about to read is definitely an angst-style story, so, just a heads-up, the content might stir up some strong emotions, especially if you relate to the themes i’m touching on.

now, with that said, i also want to clarify that this is a fictional piece! i’m not suggesting that what i’ve written reflects what chris is going through in his personal life (which, by the way, isn’t my place to speculate about or anyone else’s, except his own), but in his openness—whether it’s meant to be funny or not—in the instagram story he posted today, i finally found the push i needed to write something and break out of my writer’s block.

so, even though the circumstances aren’t the best, deep down i’m thankful for the positive impact chris has on my life and so many others, whether he realizes it or not.

chris was drowning, sinking beneath a tidal wave of despair that crushed his ribs, a relentless, jagged weight that turned every breath into a gasping plea for air.

the house pulsed with chaos: nick’s voice sliced through the walls, a shrill blade of frustration over some edit gone wrong, matt’s slams of kitchen drawers thundered like gunshots, and the tv’s looped ad screeched in chris’s skull, a mockery of normalcy he couldn’t escape.

it was a suffocating storm, and he was a ghost in its eye, his heart pounding so hard it felt like it’d rip through his chest, his stomach twisting into sick, tight knots.

he tried to claw his way out, tossing a brittle, “y’all sound like a damn war zone, man, just chill,” into the fray, but his voice shattered mid-sentence, a fragile, desperate SOS buried in the cracks.

nick’s snort stabbed at him, matt’s rummaging didn’t falter, and chris felt it—the crushing realization that they couldn’t hear the scream clawing up his throat, couldn’t see the panic bleeding from his eyes.

his hands shook violently as he snatched his hoodie, black, frayed, soaked in the scent of his own sweat and sleepless nights, yanking it over his head like armor against the void.

his sneakers scraped on, laces dangling like broken lifelines, and he muttered, “i’m out,” so low it was a whisper to himself, a plea lost in the noise. no one turned, no one questioned, and when the door slammed shut behind him, a deafening crack that echoed through his bones.

the california air hit him like a slap, warm and cloying, wrapping around his lungs like a noose.

he didn’t do this, he didn’t go out alone; nick and matt were his lifeline, his loud, chaotic tether to sanity, and without them, the world yawned open, a vast, hollow abyss that swallowed him whole.

loneliness wasn’t just fear, no, it was a visceral, icy terror that sank its teeth into his gut, twisting until he wanted to scream, but he couldn’t stay in that house, couldn’t choke down the anguish festering in his silence.

he stumbled down the street, head bowed, hands shoved deep into his pockets, fingers curling into fists to stop the trembling. his chest was a vice; each breath a shallow, ragged stab, each thought a razor slicing through his mind, drawing blood he couldn’t see but felt in every shuddering pulse.

he didn’t choose the pizza joint, it just appeared, a flickering neon “open” sign buzzing like a lifeline in the dusk, a random spot in the california sprawl he’d usually crash with his brothers, their laughter a balm he couldn’t find now.

the door swung open, bell jangling like a funeral chime, and the warm rush of dough and pepperoni hit him—once a comfort, now a hollow echo that twisted his insides into a tighter knot.

“large pepperoni, pepsi.” he ordered, voice dead and mechanical.

his ritual, his sanctuary, the things that used to stitch him back together, but when the guy shoved the box and can across the counter, they landed like lead in his unsteady hands. chris collapsed into a corner booth, the vinyl groaning under his weight, and stared at the pizza—steam curling like ghosts, cheese glistening—but it turned his stomach, a nauseous wave crashing over him, bile rising in his throat.

he cracked the pepsi, the hiss mocking him, and took a sip, but it felt flat, bitter, a cruel parody of the joy it once held.

his eyes burned, hot and stinging, his throat a raw, searing mess as he clenched his jaw until it ached, fighting the sob clawing its way up, but it was too late, his chest heaved, a silent scream trapped inside, and the tears spilled, scalding trails down his cheeks he couldn’t stop.

then, she walked in...

not a storm, not a shout, just a quiet presence slipping into the booth across from him. her hair was a tangled wreck, eyes swollen and bloodshot like she’d been sobbing her soul out, a half-eaten slice crumpled on a napkin, soda clutched in white-knuckled hands like it was her last thread.

“you look like hell,” she said, voice soft but piercing in some type of way, cutting through the fog, and chris flinched, a choked, jagged laugh bursting free, all harsh and broken, a sound that ripped at his raw throat.

“you ain’t exactly a ray of fuckin’ sunshine,” he rasped, voice trembling with the weight of unshed tears, and she offered a faint, exhausted smile; not forced, just real, a lifeline in the wreckage.

“bad day?” she asked, and it wasn’t the shrill fan squeal he braced for, instead, she was a quiet, aching echo of his own pain, slicing through his defenses like a knife.

“bad fuckin’ everything,” he choked, head dropping into his hands, fingers yanking at his hair, a desperate anchor against the flood. “can’t... fuck, i can’t get it out. i’m fallin’ apart, y’know?” the words tore free, shredded and bleeding, and his chest caved in, breaths short and gasping, panic surging like a wildfire.

she nodded, slow, her own grief carved into the slump of her frame, the quiver in her lip. “me too,” she whispered, voice fracturing. “family’s a war zone where everyone is screaming, shoving me aside, acting like i’m nothing. came here ‘cause pizza’s supposed to fix it, right?” her laugh was a broken shard, slicing the air, and chris’s matched it, echoing her despair.

“yeah, it should,” he croaked, shoving the box toward her, a shaky offering, and she took a slice, chewing in silence.

the quiet stretched, feeling dense, suffocating, a shared wound pulsing between them, their breaths hitching in sync.

“i’m y/n,” she said after a while, wiping grease on her jeans, voice barely above a whisper, and chris blinked, the simplicity of it piercing him.

“chris,” he mumbled, though she probably knew—fans always did—but she didn’t leap, didn’t fawn, just held his gaze, steady and shattered.

“i watch you,” she confessed, soft, “but i’m not here for that; you looked like you were dying and i know that look, i live it every day.” her eyes locked on his, red-rimmed and unflinching, and the dam inside him burst: words spilling, voice cracking, tears streaming like rivers of fire down his face.

“i can’t keep goin’,” he sobbed, hands clawing the table, nails scraping wood as his voice broke into shards. “nick, matt—they’re laughin’, they don’t hear me screamin’ inside. i’m so fuckin’ stressed, so empty, and i hate, really hate bein’ alone, but i can’t stay there.”

the sob tore free, loud and ugly, shaking his whole body, and he despised it: the vulnerability, the agony spilling out, the way his chest felt like it was caving in.

but she didn’t recoil, didn’t judge, just sat there, her own tears falling now.

“i get it,” she said, voice a trembling thread, steady despite the cracks. “my dad yells and i hold my breath ‘til my lungs collapse, my mom pretends i’m not even alive, and i’m just… begging to fit, but i don’t. i’m lost, chris.” a tear slipped free, carving a path down her cheek, and she swiped it away, fierce and fragile, but they were both crumbling now, their pain bleeding across this stained table, a mirror of misery.

time melted—minutes, hours, an eternity of tears and choked laughter, voices raw as sandpaper.

she spoke of her dad’s rage, her mom’s silence shredding her; chris confessed the sleepless nights, the panic clawing his chest, the suffocating mask he wore.

it was brutal, chaotic, achingly human, and for once, he wasn’t alone, maybe not with his brothers’ noise, but with her quiet, broken presence, seeing every jagged piece he’d hidden.

“they’re still there,” she rasped after a while, voice scraped hollow, nodding at the half-devoured pizza, a testament to their shared survival. “your brothers, your fans—me, even. we’re here, chris, even when it’s fuckin’ unbearable.” her gaze met his, bloodshot but piercing, and it slammed into him—a wrenching, visceral ache, not just pain but a flicker of something else, something trembling and alive.

“maybe,” he whispered, voice a ghost, wiping his face with his sleeve, the fabric damp with tears and snot.

he didn’t know if he could hold it—not truly—but her words burrowed deep, sharp and tender, slicing through the suffocating dark. he was still shattered, still terrified, a hollow shell trembling on the edge, but there was a pulse now, faint, fragile, beating beneath the ruin.

she stood, grabbing her soda, and glanced back, her silhouette framed by the dim light. “don’t fade away, chris,” she said, voice a quiet, trembling plea, then slipped out, the bell’s chime a soft wail as the door swung shut.

chris stayed, alone again, pizza cold and stiff, pepsi a flat puddle in the can, his chest a cavern of grief—but it shifted, softened by a thread he couldn’t name.

he didn’t know if he’d go back, if he’d find her again, if this changed the tide or if he’d sink deeper still. he just sat there, staring at the empty booth, tears drying into salty trails, heart thudding a broken rhythm, lost in the vast, aching unknown.

© eclipsturns 's all rights deserved !ㅤ ꕀ ⠀⠀𔘓⠀⠀⠀

[bernardsbendystraws]

Bruised Bones (Matt x Reader)

➢  “--’m never letting anything happen to you ever again. Never.”

⚠︎ Unresolved angst, police, violence, and more → 1408 words

A/N: Interaction is appreciated! I do not give consent for my work to be plagiarized or uploaded on any other platform.

With love and big tits, ᡣ𐭩 Rose → Navigation

♢♢♢♢♢♢♢♢♢♢♢♢♢♢♢♢♢

Haunted. 

It all felt so haunted.

Our shared home had become a comfort zone turned to a nightmare. Broken glass had been collected and thrown away, but I still felt the shards piercing into my feet with every step.

The sound of the door handle twisting sent me into a panic. No sleep let me plunder deeper than a light daze. Even wrapped in his arms, I still felt so bare. 

It had been a month. An entire month, and no leads as to finding the man who stole all sense of safety for me. He was still roaming around. He was still free.

He wasn’t behind bars. But it felt like I was. 

Trapped. 

I was trapped inside my own paranoia, my own rushing anxieties.

Matt held me every night, holding me tight enough as if it would mend together the complete shatter of my soul. 

It didn’t. 

And it never would after I overheard the brutal words—-words that grinded my broken heart into a puddle of dry sand. 

Words that haunted me as much as the sound of a toggleed doorknob. 

Maybe even more.

__

“And what did he look like?” 

The police officer interrogated me with a dissociated look. He didn’t care. There was nothing they could do. There was nothing anyone could do—-except wait. 

News had been circling around. Multiple break-ins around the area had splurged in numbers. A guy with a ski mask. He would trash the place, take any small valuables, and disappear. 

But I never thought it would be my home. 

Matt and I had even spent more money on another lock on the door. We had made it a habit to never rush out and leave the door unlocked. He did anything to protect me. Paranoia from spreading stories had resulted in him panicking as I rushed to the bathroom in the middle of the night.

He just wanted to keep me safe. 

But, I sat in the gray interrogation room with lifeless eyes—my eyes staring back at me in the double sided mirror. 

I was hurt. I felt wounded and broken. 

Matt had left to go film with his brothers. I had already been asleep. The bed was surrounded in a warm comfort of blankets, pulling me and keeping me in a deep sleep.

Waking up was the opposite of peaceful. I had heard awkward noises of shuffling. Shuffling as if Matt was walking around in the dark and had never stepped foot in our own home before. 

It wasn’t Matt.

I learned that the hard way.

“Matt?” I yell out, my sleepy paralysis of thoughts clouding my judgment. 

As the area falls dead silent, my heart sinks with the realization. My pulse hammers in every pore of my body as I hear footsteps march towards the bedroom. I’m frozen in fear, hoping my clouded daze is shielding a void of common sense. 

But then I see the gray ski mask. I see his towering figure stride towards me, grabbing me aggressively and covering my mouth. 

“---ma’am?” 

I look up to see the police officer giving me an unentertained expression. 

“I…he was wearing a ski mask. I…I—I don’t know.” I stammer out. 

The officer widens his eyes letting out  a huff as he shakes his head. “Okay, then. That’s all we need, I guess. You’re free to go.” he puffs. 

But, I didn’t feel free. 

I didn’t even feel safe.

__

Days. Weeks. Months.

Time passed, but nothing seemed to heal my instinctive need to hide under the sheets of the bed. Nothing seemed to cloud my anxious heart in my own home. 

Matt tried to help. We had gotten even more locks. He rarely even left me alone, he couldn’t. The whole ordeal seemed to affect him as much as me—maybe even more. 

“--’m never letting anything happen to you ever again. Never.” he whispers the gentle words in my hair as he holds me in his chest. 

“I’m scared, Matt. He’s—he’s still out there. What if he–”

“Hey, hey, hey,” he pulls me in closer, kissing my head. “I’m right here. I’m not going anywhere. No one—no one is ever gonna hurt you.” he soothes. 

But someone had. 

The intruder had taken so much. 

Jewelry was gone. Cash had gone missing. And—my dignity and safety were nowhere to be found. 

No amount of locks and alarms soothed me. I checked each latch routinely, sometimes waking up in the middle of the night just to make sure. 

Of course, Matt would come with me.

“Where are you going, baby?” he gruffs hazily. 

I shuffle out of the bed, feeling his arm wrap behind my waist as he walks with me. “I…just gonna check the locks.” I voice.

He would pull me behind him as we walked to check the door. There was no part of him that let his sleepy state affect his one true goal—-protecting me. 

But then the police got back to me. 

The man who swarmed my home with insecurity and violence had been caught. The cruel man who had stripped away the comfort of my bed, who showed my heart what true panic and anxiety felt like. 

I still felt his hand over my mouth. His rough fingers still lingered on my skin as he had hit me enough to be quiet. The bruises had healed on my skin, but they seemed to have disappeared further beneath my flesh. All the marks, all the hits….they seeped down into my heart, mind, and soul. 

His calloused hands ripping my necklace off of my neck still made my throat close. Everything made my chest feel weighed down. 

This—this relieved so much of that. I had seen the man being dragged away in the orange jumpsuit, stripped away of his freedom with his hands cuffed behind his back. 

But that relief didn’t last long. Not when my skin burned with his lies. Matt’s lies.

“I just…I was in such a rush, she was asleep, I…I didn’t think anything would happen.” his voice was strained as I paused my steps. “--I should’ve locked the door.” 

Time stops. 

It feels exactly like the frozen shock of the man stomping into the bedroom. But this time—I’m stomping in. 

He was supposed to protect me. 

“What?” I breath out while rounding the corner.

“This…this all could’ve been avoided? You—you couldn’t even bother to lock the door? Are you serious?” I feel my heart shatter with each truthful word leaving my lips.

“Baby, I….I was in such a rush, I–”

“No!” I screech. My hands shakily form into fists as I cling them to my chest. “This…I wouldn’t have to feel like this if you had just thought for one fucking second, Matt! You’re—you’re a liar! You’re such a liar!” I yell.

My hands tangle in my hair as I tug at the strands. Every haunted corner of the house could’ve been safe. I could’ve been safe. 

If only he had cared enough to lock the door. 

“I’m so sorry, I was gonna text you, I—I’m sorry, I’m so sorry. I feel–”

“I don’t care how you feel, Matt!” 

The room stays frozen as I gasp for a shaky breath of air. 

“You…you don’t mean that.” he speaks softly. 

I shake my head with a quivering lip as warm, hot tears flood the rim of my eyes. 

“You didn’t even care enough to lock the door—you didn’t even care enough to protect me. I…how am I supposed to forgive you for this?” I cry.

Matt looks down in his lap, giving a shrug. 

“I…I don’t know, sweetheart. I…I don’t know.” 

__

Silence still consumed the bedroom. The house was haunted and there was no cleanse that could cure the demons lurking in every corner. 

Doubts, insecurity, and lies. 

My heart hurt, my head hurt—-my bones even hurt.

He was supposed to protect me. Instead, he was careless. He lied. He hurt me. 

There was no forgiveness. Not when all the protection he had been giving was all out of pure guilt. 

No hope. No words. 

Nothing. 

It ended. The person I had trusted the most had killed me from the inside. He had tortured my heart until it was burnt to ashes.

He didn’t lock the door. He didn’t protect me. 

He didn’t think twice before rushing out to abandon me with the harsh masked man. 

Matt no longer was able to lock the door at all. 

He didn’t have a key.

[tiredneutron]

Terrans

Humanity.

Listen well, for this is a tale of warning and of caution.

When humanity was first observed, many of the council thought they should be eradicated. A tumultuous and violent species who revelled in the destruction of their own kind. It was a close thing, but the council voted and humanity was allowed to develop - under the condition that none were to contact them until they were deemed ready.

Humanity never gave us the chance to do so.

They progressed their technology in timeframes yet unseen. They went from discovering electricity to landing on their own moon in a matter of decades - doing so with primitive technology, but it was a feat nonetheless.

From there they developed their own world - the space around their home planet Terra became a field of haphazard signals and messages, a bombardment of signals that interfered with our observational machinery. Due to this we weren’t ready when humanity ventured into the stars truly for the first time. They blasted themselves out of their atmosphere with controlled explosions of all things, their technology was nowhere near discovering antimatter coupling yet. Despite this they reached the edge of the quarantine zone within a matter of years, and we were discovered.

Despite our initial thoughts, humanity reacted very differently to us than expected. They didn’t wage wars on us, didn’t lay claim to our planets. They met us with unrestrained joy at finding others in the universe. They told us of their numerous attempts to reach out to us, and showed us some of their works of fiction that depicted how they imagined us (though they seemed to hide some others for reasons we couldn’t ascertain).

Humanity was welcomed into the stars, and they became commonplace. Their biology was baffling and their behaviour bizarre, but we accommodated them and they taught us how to work with them.

Centuries passed, and though the initial explorers were long gone, humanity had become a part of the council as low ranking members. Their species had become mostly peaceful, lowering their internal wars to less than skirmishes. Humanity’s violent and cruel nature seemed to have been tempered by the stars.

We were wrong.

From beyond the councils borders, beyond the observable space in the void, a threat appeared. They blasted through our sensors and demolished our border colonies in hours. Our intel on them was near zero due to the ferocity they annihilated our kin.

They reached the inner borders of the council, and the elder members prepared for a bitter battle. To our surprise, humanity asked to join the defence. They told us that their kin had settled on some of the border colonies, and that many had lost loved ones. We allowed humanity to join our last fight, even if we didn’t expect them to affect the battle.

We were wrong.

Many of my comrades who survived the battle have sleep terrors to this day. Not of the void settlers, but of the humans. The cruelty and viciousness we thought had disappeared from their culture came back with a vengeance. Who we had seen as scientists and farmers for centuries, comrades we had known for decades - they showed us that monsters don’t come from the void.

The void settlers never stood a chance. The council was barely able to get in formation before the battle was ended. If the void bringers tactics were ferocious, then the Terran’s were monstrous. For every ship they lost, every life they sacrificed, the void settlers lost a battalion, a planet’s worth of lives.

This loss brought the void settlers much shame and anger. They made a mistake that haunts me to this day. They used their speed to reach Terra before the council could relay to the humans the threat. Humanity watched as Terra split, as trillions of their families and non-fighting members were eradicated.

The fighting ceased. Humanity seemed to have frozen. Their fleets stopped dead in space and their communications went silent. Where humanity had been surrounded by wavelengths and frequencies that interfered with some technology still, the space around them became eerily silent, as though the death of the planet had killed even those off world.

The void settlers continued their attack on the council and disregarded Humanity. No need to worry about a broken opponent… Right?

They were wrong.

The Terran’s weren’t dead, or even broken. It was later revealed that the freeze had been due to grief. Humanity had lost its home world, but worse than that it had lost its peaceable citizens. The ones who should have been safe from the conflict.

All of humanity had watched, and all of humanity had grieved. But they were not broken.

The void settlers learnt this very soon.

Humanity descended on them in ways that made the last defence seem like a diplomatic discussion. We though we had seen the worst of humanity in our early observations. WE. WERE. WRONG.

Humanity has a saying “Hell hath no wrath like a woman scorned”, but the council has adapted it: “The void hath no wrath like a Terran without a home”.

The void settlers were routed from every planet they had taken. They retreated to the void leaving behind their technology and supplies, not even taking the time to recover some of their teams. But the humans didn’t stop.

In a move that the council had forbidden for millennia, the humans flew into the void. The entirety of the Terran race disappeared into the blackness beyond space and wasn’t heard from for longer than we had known of them.

The council mourned their losses, but viewed their final act as something done out of the madness of their loss. The Terran’s were remembered as warriors, as fighters, but also as family. They became known to those of us who’d seen them fight as “The angels of Death”.

I never expected to see a Terran again, assumed that the void had devoured them and their destructive grief with them. But one day a vessel I was onboard, tasked with assessing possible colonies to rebuild in the border planets - it detected something.

The frequencies and wavelengths of data that had only ever been human in nature. They were coming from the void.

The council watched as humanity emerged unexpected for the second time.

The flagship docked with our observation vessel, and the leaders came aboard to see us. I vaguely recognised the captain. Their features so slightly similar to the grief driven warrior we’d watched descend into the void. We asked what had happened, and the captain responded with the most chilling visage I had seen since the first footage of the void settlers. Their baring of their teeth was savage and joyous. So similar to the expression we saw at first meeting, yet so distorted. In that moment I saw what could have happened if the Terran’s had waged war on us.

“We won.”

[snazzydwarf]

Jasons pit madness is actually him going mama bear mode-

I was brushing my teeth when this DC x DP idea just zapped into my brain and I HAD to let it out-

So I'd imagine that in the GZ time works differently, but in the sense where it passes really really slow compared to how it would normally pass. This is to allow newly formed spirits a time to grieve and heal before saying good bye to their loved ones.

So now imagine a newly formed Jason Todd arriving to the Ghost Zone, still donned with the Robin outfit he died in. 

While he floats aimlessly around for a while he eventually encounters another young ghost... like really young, no more then 5 years old.

He watched as this kid, his kid, grow into the powerful ghost he was always meant to be. His favourite moments where when Clockwork allowed them to visit outside the GZ to go stargazing so they could fulfil the kids space obsession. 

This ghost is Danny. (You can choose your own way of him getting there but I would imagine the portal being completed way earlier than cannon but still follows how Danny got his powers, although this time he was trapped on the other side of the portal rather than popping back out into this parents basement.)

Years pass in the GZ and Jason has officially taken Danny under his wing. At first it was difficult, he was only 15 goddammit! He shouldn’t be the soul caretaker of this kid, let alone a dead one! But the thought of leaving Danny alone in this green void made his stomach churn, he couldn’t up and leave and abandon a kid he said he would take care off, he would do anything for Danny. He wasn’t like Bruce

They were fine, happy even, he couldn’t imagine a life without this little tyke who became his whole world in the time he was in the Zone, but then it was all gone. His core felt a sudden pull so tight it felt like it was being ripped out of his body, it hurt, oh god did it hurt but it couldn’t compare to the sound of Danny’s cries as he watched Jason crumple to the ground and begin to fade away.

He stalked through Gotham at night and began setting up his plan for revenge, although Red Hood was born he couldn’t help feel like he lost something. The slightest thing would tip him of, making him go into a blind fury, ripping his enemies apart in an almost frantic desperation. He knew he was searching for something, fucking something, but what is it? 

He was back in the land of the living, and he was furious, but he didn’t know what for. His memories where fuzzy at best and the only thing he remembers is a sharpness in his chest and green in his vision. 

At first he thought it was the desire for revenge, that he was searching for retribution against the man who killed him and the man who didn’t do enough to save him, but it wasn’t until almost a year after he took up the Red Hood mantel did it all click into place and his world suddenly became right again, all it took was one voice and one word.

“DAD!”

[istoleyoursphenoidbone]

In Search of Kindred Spirits - Chapter 3

Hi folks, welcome back for chapter 3 of In Search of Kindred Spirits. We have one more chapter after this to go! I don't have much to say on this chapter other than here we get to see Danny's search through the zone. But have fun everyone, and as always feedback is welcome!

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The Ghost Zone stretched infinitely in every direction, an otherworldly expanse of swirling green mist, floating islands, and jagged portals that flickered like torn seams in reality. Rivers of shimmering ectoplasm wound their way through the void, glowing faintly as they meandered past bizarre, gravity-defying landscapes. It was a place of eerie beauty, alive with strange whispers and the occasional flicker of ghostly figures darting between dimensions. Yet its vastness was daunting—so endless that even Danny, who had spent countless hours navigating its labyrinthine reaches, often felt like a single drop in an infinite ocean.

Jason wasn’t here. At least, not in the places Danny thought he would be.

The search was proving longer and more grueling than Danny had anticipated. Six months had passed since Jason had vanished, six months of tirelessly scouring the Ghost Zone’s countless nooks and crannies. Danny had questioned every ghost he encountered, chasing cryptic hints and fragmented tales that inevitably dissolved into dead ends. He had dived headfirst into unstable portals, braved spectral storms, and crossed paths with some of the Zone's most notorious denizens—all in pursuit of a lead, a sign, anything to guide him to Jason.

The weight of his task was beginning to press down on him. The Ghost Zone was infinite, unpredictable, and dangerous. Doubt whispered insidiously in the back of his mind, asking questions he didn’t want to face: What if Jason doesn’t want to be found? What if he’s gone for good? But Danny shook those thoughts off as quickly as they came.

He couldn’t give up. He wouldn’t give up. Jason had been there for him when no one else had, standing by his side in the moments that mattered most. Danny had made a promise—not just to Jason, but to himself. No matter how vast or treacherous the Ghost Zone might be, he wouldn’t let him down.

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

The first lead had come from Skulker, the self-proclaimed ghost hunter who seemed to delight in crossing paths with Danny. This time, he was lurking near a swirling vortex of green energy that looked suspiciously like a trap.

“Looking for someone, whelp?” Skulker had asked, his tone laced with mocking amusement.

Danny dodged the green net Skulker flung at him with practiced ease, his glare sharp. “None of your business, tin can.”

Skulker grinned, his predatory smile revealing rows of jagged teeth. “Oh, but it is my business. Word travels fast in the Zone, Phantom. I hear you’ve been scouring, chasing after a wayward soul. Someone… human?”

The accusation made Danny freeze mid-air. He masked his surprise with a glare. “What do you know?”

Skulker’s glowing eyes narrowed, glinting with a mix of menace and amusement. “More than you, it seems,” he drawled. “But let me offer a morsel of advice: tread carefully. The Ghost Zone holds many secrets, and not all who perish find their way here. Some fates…” His voice dipped lower, almost reverent, “are stranger than even you can imagine.”

Danny’s stomach tightened. The weight of Skulker’s words settled heavily in his chest, but before he could press for more, Skulker vanished into the swirling void, leaving Danny alone with his thoughts and a growing sense of unease.

It was the first time Danny truly questioned the foundation of his search. What if Jason wasn’t in the Ghost Zone at all? The possibility hit him like a punch to the gut. Every lead he had followed, every corner of the Zone he had searched, might have been for nothing. And worse—what if Skulker was right? What if Jason’s fate was something Danny couldn’t even begin to understand? -----------------------------------------------------------------------

Months slipped by, and Danny’s search grew increasingly desperate. He ventured deeper into the Ghost Zone, navigating its most treacherous and mysterious regions—places he had once considered nothing more than ghostly folklore. He braved the Valley of the Lost, a desolate expanse where wandering souls cried out in anguish for memories that had long faded, their voices hauntingly hollow. He ventured into the Obsidian Flats, a strange void where time and space twisted in impossible ways, folding in on themselves like a cruel labyrinth.

Everywhere he went, Danny asked the same question: “Have you seen a soul named Jason Todd?”

The responses were as maddening as they were unhelpful. Some ghosts sneered at him, their laughter echoing mockingly through the void. Others offered cryptic riddles that left Danny more frustrated than before.

“You search for one who is neither living nor dead,” Nocturn, the ghost of dreams and shadows, told him one night. His voice was smooth and ominous, like silk sliding over a blade. “Much like yourself, but also not. Such souls are rare, Phantom. If he is not here, then perhaps he lingers… somewhere in between.”

Danny’s frustration bubbled over. “In between what?” he demanded, his voice cracking with urgency.

Nocturn smiled faintly, the gleam of his teeth visible even in the dim light of the Zone. “That is the question, isn’t it?” he mused before vanishing into a swirl of dark mist, leaving Danny alone with his thoughts.

Nocturn’s words gnawed at Danny. What did “in between” even mean? The Ghost Zone was supposed to be the final destination for souls caught between life and death. If Jason wasn’t here, then where was he? And worse—what if Danny’s search was destined to lead him nowhere? -------------------------------------------------------------------------

It wasn’t until Danny visited Clockwork that he finally got some clarity—though, as with most things involving the Master of Time, the answers came wrapped in riddles.

Clockwork floated serenely in the center of his lair, his current form that of an aged man draped in flowing robes. The constant ticking and whirring of countless clocks filled the air, a reminder of time’s relentless march. Danny stood before him, fists clenched tightly at his sides, his desperation barely contained.

“Clockwork, I need your help,” Danny said, his voice steady but pleading. “I’m looking for someone. His name is Jason Todd.”

Clockwork’s glowing red eyes shifted toward him, calm and unblinking. “Ah, Jason Todd,” he said, his tone almost wistful. “The boy who died but did not pass on. I wondered when you would finally come to me.”

Danny’s breath hitched. “So… he’s alive?”

“In a manner of speaking,” Clockwork replied, gesturing to a swirling portal that appeared beside him. Within its depths, images began to form—flashes of Jason’s life. Danny saw Jason’s brutal death at the hands of the Joker, the quiet stillness of his grave, and then the violent churn of a bubbling green pit. The scene shifted to Jason clawing his way out, his body trembling, his eyes wild and filled with rage.

“What is this?” Danny whispered, his voice barely audible over the rhythmic ticking.

“The Lazarus Pit,” Clockwork explained, his voice carrying the weight of ages. “A pool of ancient, corrupted ectoplasmic energy capable of dragging souls back from the brink of death. But its gifts are not without consequence.”

Danny watched, his stomach twisting, as the portal revealed Jason’s transformation. Gone was the boy Danny had known, replaced by someone colder, angrier—haunted.

“He’s alive,” Danny murmured, a mix of relief and dread coursing through him. “But… why hasn’t he come back? Why didn’t he tell anyone?”

Clockwork’s expression remained impassive, though there was a flicker of something—pity, perhaps—in his gaze. “Because the Pit does not give without taking. It warps the soul, twists it into something new. Jason Todd may walk among the living, but he is not the same as he once was.”

“No,” Danny said firmly, shaking his head. “That’s not true. Jason is still… Jason. I know he is.”

Clockwork’s voice softened, though his tone remained measured. “Perhaps. But the boy you seek is no longer in the Ghost Zone. He resides in the world of the living now, much like you—a soul caught between what was and what is.”

Danny’s mind raced. If Jason was alive, then there was still hope. Yet the images of the Lazarus Pit and Jason’s pained expression lingered, filling Danny with unease. Somewhere out there, Jason was waiting to be found—but he might not be the same person Danny remembered.

The questions swirled in Danny’s mind, heavier than the Ghost Zone’s silence. But one thing was clear: his search wasn’t over. Not yet. --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Danny returned to the human world a changed person. He’d grown stronger, his powers sharper and more refined. But he’d also grown more determined. He couldn’t let Jason’s memory—or the hope that he might still be out there—fade into the background. So Danny turned back to the letters, remembering the city that began it all.

“Gotham,” Danny murmured, holding the letter in his hands. The city that had taken Jason from him. The city that might still hold the answers he was looking for. --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Moving to Gotham felt like stepping back in time. The city was just as grimy, chaotic, and dangerous as Danny remembered. But this time, he wasn’t a scared little kid clinging to Jason for protection.

This time, he was Phantom.

Danny took to patrolling the streets at night, his white hair and glowing green eyes making him a ghostly blur in the shadows. Gotham’s criminals were ruthless, but so was he. Phantom became a whispered legend among the city’s underworld—a vigilante who moved like a ghost and struck like a storm.

But for all his heroics, Danny’s true mission remained the same: find Jason Todd. ------------------------------------------------------------------------------

On one particular night after months in the city, as Danny hovered above Gotham’s rooftops, scanning the streets below, he spotted something unusual. A group of armed men was unloading crates from a truck, their movements tense and hurried.

Danny narrowed his eyes. Smugglers, probably. He swooped down, his ectoblasts glowing in his hands.

“Alright, boys,” he called, his voice echoing eerily. “Drop the weapons, or I’ll make you drop them myself.”

The men froze, their eyes widening at the sight of him.

“What the hell—?” one of them started, but before he could finish, a gunshot rang out.

Danny dodged effortlessly, phasing through the bullet like it was nothing. He smirked. “You’re gonna have to try harder than that.”

Before he could strike, a second figure appeared, dropping into the fray like a shadow.

Danny’s breath caught.

The newcomer was clad in black and red, a helmet obscuring his face. He moved with brutal efficiency, taking down the smugglers one by one with a combination of gunfire and hand-to-hand combat.

Danny watched, his heart pounding in his chest. He didn’t need to see the man’s face to know who it was.

“Jason,” he whispered.

The Red Hood turned, his posture stiffening as he noticed Danny hovering above him.

For a moment, they simply stared at each other, the air between them heavy with unspoken words.

Danny felt a lump form in his throat. After three long years, he’d finally found him.

“Jason,” he said again, louder this time.

The Red Hood tilted his head, his voice cold and unfamiliar. “Who’s asking?”

[snoopyana]

say cheese.

“been a minute since we kicked it, you’ve been caught up.”

it’s easy to get caught up with life. accidentally leaving friends on delivered for weeks, forgetting plans that were made weeks in advance — like a movie night with a certain someone. it’s just easy to forget from time to time.

song eunseok. smut. close-friends dynamic. cw for head pushing towards the end!!

body melting into your couch, you were in darkness of your living room. limbs hanging off the furniture from practically throwing yourself into the cushions— but you were finally relaxed. recovering from the past week, it left you void of any energy — resulting in neglecting your friendships to stay one-hundred percent focused. in the midst of your intense workload, you always had that itching feeling that you were forgetting something important.

or someone important.

but you’d always push the thought to the side. until now, you laid motionless, the sound of cars speeding past your building and rain hitting the closed windows filling your ears while you tried to remember what it was you were forgetting. until your phone started to buzz and vibrate on the coffee table, breaking your train of thought before you reached an answer. your eyes flickered over to the device as it moved along the glass table — but in all honesty, you couldn’t be bothered to even twitch a finger in the device’s direction. so it continued to shake on the table — multiple times at that. whoever was calling must have been determined for an answer.

but you were determined to not pick up. the effects of lack of sleep overpowering your will to move. the string of calls stopped, letting your mind finally be at peace. but the buzzing was only to be replaced with the headache inducing sound of someones fist aggressively pounding on your front door. that, you simply couldn’t ignore. paired with the sound of your phone buzzing once again, you found what little strength you had to reach for your phone.

there was silence for a split second on the other end, before eunseoks voice came blaring through the speakers. “are you still at work?” he questioned, concern yet annoyance in his tone.

“no.”

“well can you open the door? i’ve been knocking for like 5 minutes.” knocking was a severe understatement. the very recent memory of him basically beating a hole into the wood but you chose not to comment on it. mumbling out a quick, “it’s unlocked already.” you remembered in the midst of you tiredly stumbling into your home, you forgot to lock the door. only now remembering that small detail when eunseok happened to ask. the line went dead and the sound of your apartment door swinging open, hitting the wall in the process, echoed through the quiet space.

his footsteps being the only indicator that he was inside, those same footsteps stopping in front of the couch that you laid in. flipping around to face him, all he could do was stare as you made an attempt to look up at his face, a throbbing pain behind your eyes causing you to shut them. the dim city lights leaking in from the windows that lined your walls gave eunseok just enough light to see your exhausted expression. “what are you doing?”

wrapped inside your decorative throw blanket, something you would criticize anyone else for doing, you then mumbled into the seats — “laying down.” coming out slightly more sarcastic than you intended, eunseok gripped onto his chest as if you just shot him. “ouch, could be a little nicer.” using the same energy that you accidentally gave him. leaning down, he lifted your head up to make room for his body to slide in. resting your head right onto his lap, eunseok let you settle again — debating whether he should mention the planned movie night. a night that you had planned.

ironic isn’t it?

five minutes went by painfully slow, not wanting to disturb your peace again. had being zoned out for that short time, he was brought to when the light taps of your fingertips hit his knee. shifting his attention back onto you, he hummed in response. “why are you here again?” eyes still glued shut, you couldn’t see the confused and somewhat offended look on his face. a pinch on your arm causing you to yelp and making your body jolt up — head whip in his direction, “what was that for!?”

“you forgot that you invited me over?? we were literally planning this like 3 weeks ago. i put all the food that you asked me to bring in the kitchen.” messaging the skin on your arm, it dawned on you. it was you who made the plans. your chest started to tighten up with guilty as he sat there looking back at you. “i did, didn’t i?”

nodding his head, eunseok had his arm propped up on the armrest, head in hand — waiting for you to get up and get to setting up. he spent a solid 20 dollars on gas and wasn’t about to let it go to waste. stuttering over your words, you were finally able to get out your next sentence ��� “let me take a shower first..” a nervous laugh followed soon after before you were up and scurrying around the home.

leaning back into the armrest, your legs were propped over his, pillows and blankets decorated the couch as the original heathers blasted on your living room tv for the third time that night. eunseok insisted on picking the movies since you forgot about it all together. having no choice but to listen to the man rant about how culturally relevant this film was. mouth full of candy, all you did was nod as the male blabbered like a teenage girl.

stuffing a handful of popcorn into his mouth, eunseok continued his mini rant. “and that’s why you shouldn’t try to be caption save-a-hoe.” glancing over at him with disgust on your face as he spoke whilst chewing. “seok, stop talking with your mouth full”. nagging at him, all he did was roll his eyes while you used the pad of your thumb to swipe away popcorn from his lip. reaching for the remote, he scrolled through the alarming amount of streaming services that you had to offer.

getting up from your seat, he whipped his head in your direction. blurting out a quick “where are you going?” before you could even make it to the hall. “to piss? if you’re gonna be such a cling, come with me.” your voice faded into the darkness of the hallway, dim light from the bathroom spreading over the walls before fading out again when you closed the door. once he was sure that you were inside, his attention was back onto finding a new movie. but he couldn’t help but think about if he actually followed you.

“would have done way more than just come with you. maybe even come in a different way.” mumbling to himself, eunseok popped a few pieces of popcorn into his mouth before settling on the silence of the lambs.

pulling at your pajama shorts, you made your way back into the living room. taking note to the movie that he picked out as you slid back into your spot. grabbing a fistful of skittles, you flung one at eunseoks’ head. causing the man to slowly turn in your direction. “really seok, silence of the lambs? are you gonna bite my face off like lector?” giggling at your own fairly bad joke, eunseok gave you a nasty side-eye before pinching at your exposed thighs under the blanket. “maybe i will,” leaning back into the cushions, his hand messaged the skin on your leg, but his eyes glued to the screen, “a lot less gore. a little more affectionate though.” his words floated in the air as the movie progressed. unsure what to say, you opted to say nothing. eating and keeping silent was your best bet.

during the runtime of the movie, you two had changed positions to get more comfortable. correction, for him to get more comfortable. complaining that his legs were falling asleep, eunseok wanted to lay down. resulting in you having to get up yet again. and unfortunately, the only way for you both to lay down was for you to lay in between his legs — head resting just below his chest, arms finding sanctuary on his thighs.

“don’t move too much, might get hard.” a laugh following afterwards, guess there’s a trend of bad jokes tonight. digging your nails into his thigh, his laughter was quickly replaced with winces of pain and half assed ‘sorry’s. releasing his skin from under your nail, you let yourself go limp, sinking further into his lap — but something was nudging on your lower back. too lazy to address it, your eyes fell onto the screen.

wait.. is this the heathers again?

with the film coming to an end, you couldn’t help but take note of how that thing on your back hadn’t gone away, if anything it just got bigger?? and eunseok shifting uncomfortably underneath you. unable to ignore it anymore, your hand ventured down. in your mind, it must have been the remote. as your fingers wrapping around the object, eunseok just so happened to suck in his breath.

craning to look back at him, puzzled by his sudden reaction. while you stared up at him, he stared down at you — a lazy smile on his face. “i told you i might get hard if you kept it up. don’t look at me like it’s my fault.” your mind finally got a grasp of what your hand was grasping. quickly pulling away, you were nonverbal from shock, maybe it was arousal — maybe it was both.

“you’re so gross??”

“i didn’t do anything! but you can do something and help me so we can finish this movie.” he was still carelessly sprawled out on your couch, legs parted just enough for you to sit straight-up between them. while you were now seated on your knees, the request, (or was it a demand), bounced around your mind. meeting his gaze, eunseok raised his eyebrows — hand placed onto his thigh as he waited for you to make your decision.

it’s not like it was your first time getting physical.

and just like that, your fingers where laced at the waistband of his sweats. tugging and pulling at the the fabric just enough for his dick to spring out. spitting in your hand, you gave eunseok a feq quick pumps with one hand while the other rested on his thigh. while your fingers worked wonders, eunseoks head hung off the armrest.

his body jolting when your body sank between his legs for the second time tonight, this time taking him into your mouth instead of using his body as a makeshift pillow. a desperate groan exiting his lips when the tip of his cock hit the back of your throat. “just like that, stay down for a moment..” and as if you didn’t hear him, eunseoks’ hand snaked down to grab a fistful of your hair — forcing your head down as he adjusted to the feeling.

of course he’s a pusher.

gagging around him, eunseok started to slowly fuck into your mouth— even though it was supposed to be a quick blow. he quickly got a little bit too into it , recklessly bobbing your head by the makeshift ponytail that he formed. hips lifting from off the couch as he continued to use your mouth. his moans mixing with the wet sucking coming from between his legs bounced off the walls, canceling out the sound of the television.

what was supposed to be playing away?

that doesn’t necessarily matter now. clawing at his torso, tears streamed down your face from the repeated assault on your throat. eyes tear filled from the aching sensation on your scalp from his overkill of a grip. “oh fuck, gonna swallow it all if i cum inside your mouth, yeah?” looking down at you, eunseok couldn’t help but reach for his phone with his freehand. snapping a few pictures before pushing your head all the way down. emptying all he had to give down your throat. keeping you down for just a second longer for good measure. wiping away the tears that stained your face, eunseok gently tapped your cheek. eyes flickering up to be met with his camera.

“say cheese.”

— hi lovebugs, yana here. it’s currently 3:11 AM and i started this at 3PM yesterday. but little me was determined to give you something i would be proud of. and this was supposed to be my eunseok bday post but clearly im a little late‼️ i hope the length makes up for the wait. now imma take my ass too bed, its so late and the music isn’t keeping me up anymore!! bye sweets!! 😋💗

[daflangstlairde-art]

"ivory void"

1,084 words; Ink belongs to comyet, Dream belongs to jokublog

Content warnings: Dissociation (incl. derealization, depersonalization, dehumanization), traumatic memories, bad self-worth

—

You can leave the void, but the void will never leave you.

…And that's about where the whole paragraph can end. The whole story. There it is, laid out neatly: the start and end of Ink's life. Well, "life". 'Existence' would be more correct, maybe.

And it doesn't have to be the Void. Just… a generic void. An umbrella term, if you will. It could be an abandoned concept of an AU. It could be a blank canvas. It could be the Save Screen, or it could be the Antivoid. That doesn't matter.

It's all the same in the end. And it just… it never goes away. Ever. It can change shape or context or quantity, but it's always there. To say Ink carries a piece of it with him would also be incorrect, as that would imply it's something separate from him.

It isn't. That's the thing about the void. It just becomes a part of you. It becomes you. You become it. One and the same, intertwined.

Here it is now, for example.

The scene is domestic. Today has been a slow day, really, a nice day. The sun is setting in Underswap, surface; painting the room a bit golden. Blue and Dream are in Blue's kitchen. Making… food. It smells nice. Their voices carry over.

Ink is sitting on the back of the couch. His brush laid on the couch at his feet.

And the void, his dear friend, always with him.

A shadow. In the same way a shadow isn't something separate, it is you outside of you. It is your shape; you where the light is absent.

And Ink is so good with a spotlight. He's so good at directing it, whether at others or just the right parts of himself. Highlighting exactly what he wants seen and nothing else. Chasing the shadows away or stuffing them to the side. Only sometimes the light catches something, there, at the outskirts, but nothing beyond that. He's so good at playing his role — the tech support, the stage hand, the director, the audience, heck, even an actor himself. Paint yourself red for a fight, blue for a tragedy, so on and so forth. The audience see what you want which just so happens to be only what they want, nothing else.

Here is the actor. Here is the stage hand. When the show is over, the 'actor' disappears, because it is a thing you do, really, not who you are. You're an actor when you're acting, heh, pretty obvious.

Hm. Stupid. So deep. So philosophical. He's zoning out again then.

It's like everything is coated in a thin, invisible film of void. Or, maybe, it's Ink who's wrapped up in it like cling-wrap or latex all over. A barrier between him and everything else, every object he could theoretically touch.

Between him and the rest of the living room. Him and the kitchen. The voices in the kitchen, the smell of dinner permeating the house. It's… it's…

…The void will never leave him.

It's part of him. He's part of it. The start and the end and also everything in the middle. You can't march towards obscurity if you're already there. The lines aren't blurry, they're nonexistent.

He's… staring at his hands. Flexing his fingers.

…Dead.

Soulless. Literally. No life streams underneath. He doesn't feel hunger at the smell of cooking meat and whatnot that wafts from the kitchen. It's nice, but it means nothing. Glitter and stuff. Flavor text, haha.

His hands. His fingers. Plastic and wood and marble and stuff. He wonders if Pygmalion can repeat that fun trick. Then casts the thought aside — that would require love in order to work, and, well. If Ink's Creator loved him to begin with…

…Hm. So deep. So philosophical. He's voiding out again.

The hollowness of his ribcage. Of everything inside of him. Absences are only noticeable when you shine the spotlight on them, so Ink tends to keep it away from there.

But light has a tendency to refract, and your eyes adjust, and suddenly he's sitting on the back of Blue's couch and staring at his hands and everything is just numbers and objects. Suddenly he's never been more aware of the hollowness inside, except that's not true, because he's always aware of it, it's him, and it's always there, and it always will be. Dear old friend, heh. He wonders if Galatea was solid marble on the inside, at least. Hm, no, she wasn't marble, he's misremembering.

And the outside, the outside… glitter. At least glitter is pretty under the spotlight, heh, draws the eye and all. Flavor text. Might as well be pleasing to consume, compensate for the lack of nutrition and satiation. The hollowness that remains.

Hm. Ink is… Ink isn't. An exercise in contradiction, but he makes it work. The answer to the question, how can you have an 'antithesis' without a 'thesis'? It's him. He's the antithesis. Unfortunately he's softblocked from synthesis, due to, y'know, lacking that pretty important first step.

"You've heard about one or two philosophers, we get it," he mutters in humor. His own voice is so… it's… hmf. Well. Sound can't really travel in nothing. You can't scream into the abyss, actually, which is funny, because he has.

He did.

A lot.

He screamed and screamed and. Cried. Hurt. Begged. He walked around. Did cartwheels and stuff.

And white, and white, and–

"We're dooneeee~!" Blue declares in a loud sing-songy voice, walking out of the kitchen at last, judging by the sound of his footsteps.

Ink doesn't turn to look at him, not out of any decision for it; he feels like marble, a little, or… ah, no, what was it, ivory? Ivory, he thinks. He can't remember, nothing new.

"Ink?? Are you gonna try it??"

"You don't have to," Dream's voice floats in too. Heh. Maybe they're the crazy ones, talking to the ivory flower on the wall. At least it's pretty. "We know you can't really digest it, but you can still try a bite just to taste,"

He flexes his fingers. They're not real. They're not people.

"I made sure to add a few extra spices in there to make it more flavorful mweheheh!"

"Blue we were following a recipe-!"

…That's okay. Ink isn't real. Ink isn't a person. He can make it work, he thinks. He can leave the void once more. It will always wait for him, and he will always come back. How kind.

[futurewriter2000]

Favours

pt. 1

A/N: I AM BACK! For a while, I guess. I should have been studying statistics but this is just more fun. I am back from the dead however and I am back to writing. New Years resolutions and such. Well, this has been sitting in my drafts for a while and I decided to do it. I wanted to do a one part but I just can't because... well, things took a turn lmao. Hope you like it!

PAIRING: Sirius Black x reader

REQUEST: hi! this is my first time requesting anything so like hello. hru. anyways i wanted to request a sirius black x reader where the reader and sirius are best friends but the reader has feelings for him and confesses. but then sirius doesn't feel the same way at the time. but then he starts to fall in love with her and he feels kinda stupid i guess lmao, for not accepting the confession

XX

It was not every day classes got cancelled, but today seemed to be a good day after all. You slept in and spent most of your morning in your bed doing absolutely nothing. You haven't even cleaned your room, nor yourself and it was already 2pm but like you thought before, it's not every day classes get cancelled. Not that you had a lot of homework to be done, but still, you just wanted to take some rest.

Hogwarts was your home. More than the place you go to every holidays and summer vacation. The sound of rain and boys imitating airplanes was the one thing that made you believe you really were experiencing a good time. Mostly because hearing boys be boys was making you laugh all the time. It was why you hung out with most of them.

But not today. Today you have been just inside your own comfort zone.

---

"And where the hell have you been?!" a boy has shouted from the other side of the class as you entered into his eyesight.

"Heaven and beyond." you stretched your arms and smiled. "Best day ever."

"I sent you like a million letters and all I get back was a 'nah'?" he glared at you.

"What did you expect? A whole essay?" you sat next to him and said hi to the rest of the group. "Plus I heard you boys from the other side of the dormitory. You haven't missed me at all."

"You think I need you to enjoy my time?"

"No. I think you need me to have the best time of your life, not only enjoy." you grinned at him, hugging your books and knocking his shoulder as you made your way to your seat. You plopped yourself down and smiled at the empty board. It felt like a breath of fresh air to be rested and back at the classroom- even if it was only for one day.

He plopped himself next to you and tried to push you off your chair but you only pushed back. It was an already won war- he was absolutely stronger than you and both of you knew it, he just liked to pretend that you have a shot. With a wink, he pushed you off your chair but caught you by the arm to pull you back up before your bottom left the chair. Laughter filled the competitive void between the two of you and he just leaned to you and whispered. "I missed you... even if it was for a day." his eyes glinted with overjoy and you felt a familiar sensation in your stomach.

Anxiety? Or butterflies...? Never-the-less, it made you happy and uncomfortable at the same time.

"Have you really?" you eyed him, half joking, half serious.

"Between you and me?" he eyed you back, matching your energy and tensing the air between the two of you. "You were on my mind all day."

You stared at him lustfully and he pretty much did the same but that air was quickly cut by the entrence of the professor. The two of you continued to stare at each other and all that came to your mind was the words 'I love you so much, you don't even know.'. But those words could and should not be ever spoken out loud. Never.

It drove you insane though, every moment of it. Every single interaction with him for the past year since he has grown taller and muscular, his bone structure defined and his hair longer. His confidence rose with passing time but you never wanted to admit it to yourself. It was no denying it- for the past year, you had been pinning over this boy like a lost puppy and it showed more, day by day.

Did he know?

Was he playing with you? - No, he wasn't the one to play games with you. Not ever.

But maybe if you grew some balls and confess, maybe he did feel the same way? He surely acted like he did.

---

The next day there was a whole group of you in the common room, far from the fireplace. There were only two lamps bringing light to the table where some were reading, some were writing homework and some were just playing cards to pass the time. The rain was just as common as the mist and the darkness loomed over all the students and their moods for the past day. Though it as almost night and you couldn't help yourself but to stare at him over your crossword puzzle

He was sitting on the sofa by the lamp and it absolutely threw perfect shade of light onto his dark features. His eyes disappeared with the light but his dark eyelashes and his dark eyebrows brought out the sharp tones to his face.

Maybe he likes you too? - you thought for a moment. You drew your foot to his thigh and poked it gently.

He raised his finger as he continued to read the last paragraph of his book and slowly looked at you with a lovely smile. "Yes, sweet soul."

"Do you want to go get some snacks from the kitchen?" you asked, leaning the crossword puzzle over your nose and peering over it.

He tilted his head sweetly and smiled. "I would love too."

"Bring me some dry apple slices." said James without looking up from his homework.

"Dry apple slices? What are you? A deer?" said Sirius, grinning mischiviously at him.

James raised his head slowly, his eyebrows drew together in an annoyed look. "For your information, I have to keep an athletic build for Quidditch."

"I'd like some dark chocolate." said Remus.

"Bring me some coconut cookies." Peter added.

"I would love some refreshing lemonade." added Lily.

"What am I? Your bartender?" you asked and they all smiled.

"There's two of you with two perfectly working hands, so I'd say get creative." James winked. "And don't do something stupid." he added.

You rolled your eyes and Sirius flipped him off, but as you walked in front of Sirius, your smile broadened.

The two of you walked out of the room and into the cooled off hallway. Your cheeks lit up from the previous heat and the sudden cold. His cheeks did exactly the same and it looked wonderfully aesthetic on him- or those were just your rose-colored glasses.

He bumped into you playfully, his arms tucked into his sweatpants. You bumped back, smiling. Your stomach twisted inside of you, churning from anxiety and you couldn't even stop what happened next.

"Hey Sirius." you stopped and he made a few steps forward before turning around for you. His eyes were tired, but they always looked at you so lovingly. As if he just adored you so much. You looked away for a moment, playing with your fingers, but there was something in his eyes that felt so safe. "We're friends, right?"

"Best." he swang his feet forward, grinning. He stopped less than an inch away from you. He put his hands on your shoulders. "Aren't you cold?" he rubbed his hands down your arms.

You chuckled and looked up at him. "Have you ever thought... that we could be more than best friends?" you continued to smile, biting your lip out of habit.

His hands fell back to his side and his smile faded. It was like a shot to the chest for you because you knew that whatever he decided to say next wasn't going to sound great for your ears. He was already further away, rubbing the back of his neck.

"(y/n)..." he dragged your name from his mouth awkwardly.

"Oh..." was all that you said. "I just thought..."

"No..." he continued in the same akward tone as he said your name before. "I don't see you that way."

"Oh..." you looked away, feeling something rise up from your stomach to your throat. "I think I'm going to be sick..." you said outloud to yourself.

"It's not that anything is wrong with you- you're amazing." he came to your aid as you turned around and hugged your arms. "Really amazing- I just never thought- I never- I..." he started to lose words to say. "I didn't know you liked me like that..." he finished, looking at the floor and sighing.

"It's fine." you forced a smile, though your eyes continued to glisten but you hadn't shed a tear... not yet at least. "Let's just get those crackheads their food and forget this ever happened- PAL!" you hit his shoulder- stronger than you anticipated.

You walked in front of him, looking up at the ceiling an preventing your tears to fall from your eyes. Though your eyes were completely soaked in tears, your throat was too dry to say anything.

The rest of the trip, the two of you spent in silence. Coming back, the two of you plopped back to your own seats and picked up where you left off.

The others didn't even notice. James was already melting with the table, his eyes barely opened meanwhile the others just got stuck in a deep conversation.

---

You couldn't handle the embarrassment of it. You couldn't face him, and when you did it was like a breathless hiccup that made you hold your breath for a little too much. Your eyes would just look at each other for a while, but both of you couldn't say a word.

Slowly, the others started to realize the awkward tension and you couldn't really know, if Sirius told them or not. You didn't tell anybody. You kept the embarrassment to yourself and if you did tell somebody, well,.., your friends are his friends and everything comes around so easily.

And it happened so innocently- when you started to distance yourself from the group. You've tried to keep your cool, but it was as if they knew. You couldn't be sure of it, but there was a feeling that loomed. The way they quieted around you- when suddenly the silence became too loud. You've tried to be yourself, but it just didn't matter and slowly but surely, you pulled away and it felt lonely.

You felt furious at yourself. If only you could have kept it to yourself but then you would have been blinded by love all this time- so as badly as it was, it was also liberating to do it. You've also noticed that most of them pulled to his side- even though there was no fight, no drama, just a casual conversation between two friends.

Remus was the most normal. You could have seen it in his eyes, but where there was Remus, there was James and nobody could really talk about what really happened, even though everybody wanted to know.

Sirius could see it in your mood. He could notice the way you held yourself. He noticed the faded smile, but it didn't feel like heartbreak, more like disappointment. He didn't want the friendship to end, he didn't think it would, even after the conversation that was held, he thought the two of you could pretend that nothing happened but it was as if somebody shot a bullet through his head and now he had nothing to say to you. He felt as if anything he would do, would indicate to you that he might like you and he didn't want that. He didn't like you.

So you pulled away and Sirius... he missed you. He saw you less and less, day by day.

He had his friends. He did.. but the conversations he had with them were different than with you. The energy shifted and he felt safe and comfortable with you in a way, he didn't with his friends.

So, his mood changed as well but contrast to you, he hid it well. So when you saw him all chirpy and as if nothing really changed, you felt your mood lower.

You made your way to them with a big force pulling you back. Every step... counted to another step to...

"Hey (y/n)!" somebody called out your name and you turned around to see, who might be.

You turned to your table, but you saw no Gryffindor calling your name. He called your name again and you realised it came from the other table.

To your absolute surprise it was- "Nott?" your eyebrows furrowed.

You didn't dislike Nott, but you neither not disliked him. He was nice to you- as nice as Slytherins can be. He was a handsome boy though. His dark hair was slicked back, long strands of gelled hair falling over his forehead.

"Can I ask a favor from you?" his smile was broad and white. He had almost perfect teeth, but the horrible gossip you heard of him, even those perfect teeth could not make you like him.

"I don't remember doing any favors from you." your eyes furrowed. "I don't even remember if you acknowledged my existence in all seven years." you kept your eyebrows furrowed.

His eyes sparkled when you had said that and he quickly got up. "I know... I apologise for that but-" he looked around, his friends giving the same mischivious grin as he did. "Let us talk somewhere else." he threw his hand over your shoulder casually but you quickly gave him a look that made him remove it.

"Why would I go anywhere with you?" as the two of you walked further from the group. "I don't trust you." you kept your voice serious and low.

His face changed immediately. It wasn't so confident and mischivious. It was worriesome and... nervous?

He was tall but not as lanky. His black jacket and slicked back hair, his eyes dark as the darkest shade of brown can get stopped sparkling. It almost made you let your guard down.

"It's embarrassing to ask you this..." he started and your crossed your arms over and leaned back, your eyes narrowing in suspicion. "My dad... he works with yours."

"I know that."

"I know..."

"And your father is respected in the community."

"Meaning he's a rich pureblood in your language." you snarked back and his eyes looked at you, wide and then they narrowed.

"You know what... forget it." his voice lowered into a stern, sharp tone. "I really thought you were different than those sore losers, you hang out with."

"Are you really calling my friends sore losers when trying to get a favor from me?" you scoffed.

He turned around and slicked back his hair.

He walked very fast to you and stopped a breath away. You could smell his cologne and you could almost feel his heartbeat through the air. "Are they really your friends? Because friends don't treat you the way they do for the past few weeks."

You felt speechless but you also felt frozen by his presence. "I didn't want to ignore your existance. I prayed 7 years ago that the Sorting Hat would bring you to our table but the moment you chose their company, you turned into them."

You felt guilty by that... it did happen like that but you were 11 years old and desperate for a group to belong to. So you did what every kid does- you blended.

"Why did you want me to be sorted to your house?" you whispered and his eyes focused on yours.

"Why do you think?" he whispered lower than you.

"HEY!" there was a shout behind him and in a flash, those brown eyes disappeared from your view.

A hand grabbed his shoulder, turnedh him around and threw a fist his way.

Nott flew the other way and you looked in front who it was- contrast to Nott's dark, there was a pair of light eyes, burning with fire. He looked at you, eyes wide and worried. "Are you okay?"

"ARE YOU FUCKING CRAZY?!" you shouted and rushed to Nott's aid. "WHY THE HELL WOULD YOU PUNCH HIM?!" you shouted.

"He was cornering you."

"He was not cornering me!!" you shouted back, lifting Nott's pretty face. No blood, just a slowly appearing swollen lump on his cheek. You turned sharply back at Sirius, James and Remus, even Peter standing behind him. "We were just talking!" you snarled back. "Are you okay?" you turned back to Nott, who was only smiling.

"I'm perfect, Love." he said back as he started to get up. "Quite a throw there, Black."

"What the hell is wrong with you?!" you threw fire his way.

"I was protecting you!" Sirius shouted back but you only felt more furious by the second.

"Fuck you!" you flipped him off and walked away with Nott. "Let's put some cold on that."

---

You sat in the Slytherin common room. Your legs were up on the armchair with you and you faced Nott on the two-seat couch, looking at you with a bag of peace on his cheek.

For a moment, you thought the Slytherins liked the cold but the room was rather cold and the silver-green tones gave a nice silhouette to the area. It was like this invisible veil that oozed you to serenity. Time felt as if it didn't exist.

"Is there a charm in the room?" you asked eventually and Nott smiled.

"No, not really... or if there is nobody really told us about it but it's nice." he answered.

"Not too shabby." you shrugged casually, though you felt quite impressed by it.

He chuckled, leaning forward and looking at the floor.

"I'm sorry about the... you know... my loser friends." you bit your lip and he looked up with his dark eyes.

"So now you admit they're losers?" he raised an eyebrow.

"About what they did without reason, I'm willing to call them that for this exception."

He kept watching you for a long pause at the end of your sentence. "I don't think there was no reason." he said and leaned back on the couch. "There was definitely a reason." he stretched.

"Like what?"

"Like that Black has the hots for you."

You bulged your eyes and laughed. "Hah! No... no he doesn't." you shook your head in disbelief.

"Oh, yeah? So there is just no way that he punched me when he saw me leaning close to you?"

"There is no way, yes." you admitted and he observed carefully.

He could see your face force a smile but there was something shameful behind it. So he shook his head and chuckled lightly.

"That's why then..." he said and broadened his smile.

"What do you mean?"

"You told him you fancied him and he rejected you." he blurted out.

Your eyebrows narrowed and you felt your guard build up immediately. "Excuse me."

"Oh, come on. It's written all over you."

"How would you even conclude all of that from my face?"

"Because I fancied you since the First Year and I thought I never stood a chance to Sirius Black- because from the way I saw it, you and him were like meant to be at some point. But it's been what? Seven years and he rejected you?"

You felt your cheeks burn up. "You fancied me?"

"Abso-fucking-lutely." he said as a matter a fact and you sat there quietly. He gazed at you for a moment. "How about... I do you a favor and you do me a favor?"

"What?"

"I show you that he fancies you and you help me with my father situation." his eyes shimmered in the light, his light red bruise matching his perfect dark brown pallete and let's be honest... how would you not be intrigued.

[bigtreefest]

I’m So, So Proud of You

Pairing: Boyfriend! Curtis Everett x Reader

Summary: Curtis is proud of you for getting that job

Word count: 2,086

Content/warnings: 18+ ONLY MINORS DNI, sweet loving smut, unprotected p in v sex, crying during sex (happy tears), established relationship, soft boyfriend Curtis, cake eating (it’s not really food play), LOTS of praise, the dangerous combination of heavy fluff and smut, playful chasing, dislike for old white men and the corporate patriarchy

A/N: Only hot hoes have a praise kink. I make the rules. Melt with me, it’s a beautiful thing. Seriously, what happened? I thought my heart was cold and dead…

Comments, likes, reblogs, and asks are so appreciated. Thank you for reading!!

Dividers by @firefly-graphics

Main Masterlist

You walked through the front door of your apartment much earlier than usual, which could’ve meant one of two things for Curtis. Either you got the job, or you didn’t, coming home immediately to either celebrate or sulk.

Curtis listened intently from his place perched at the kitchen island. You had closed the latch gently. You were trying to surprise him. Well, either that, or you just wanted silence, but he heard no sign of sniffles. So no crying, but who’s to say you weren’t just angry, void of sorrow. No. If you had been angry, the door would’ve been slammed.

There it was, Curtis made his decision and grabbed one of the cake boxes off of the counter, tucking it on the chair next to him. He grabbed the small party popper, preparing it for you to cross the threshold.

Just before he expected to see you, he heard your footsteps stop abruptly right outside the frame of the entry to the kitchen. You took a deep breath before throwing down your bag and jumping out to where you had expected to see your boyfriend.

As you landed on the hardwood floors with your arms out, it emanated from you in almost a scream, full of excitement. “I got the job!”

Before you could register it, a loud pop reached your ears and confetti fell over your face. You laughed and closed your eyes, reveling in the moment, before running over to meet Curtis just as he slid off the stool. He picked you up in a tight embrace, taking a step away from the counter and spinning you around. He sat you back down and held you there for a second, his broad shoulders shielding you from the world, holding in all the happiness between you.

Curtis tucked his head into your neck, nose nuzzled against your hair, taking a deep inhale of what he had missed and been eager to hold all day. “I knew you’d get it, Tiger.”

He let you go finally, his large hands giving your shoulders a squeeze, then tracing down your arms to reach your hands before pulling you in for a kiss. “I’ve got something for you.”

Curtis moved the stools out of the way so he could guide you to the counter, wrapping his arms around your waist from behind and perching his chin on your shoulder. You felt him nod in reference against your ear to the pink cake box sitting there, staring back at you. “Open it.”

You pulled on the ribbon that held it closed before flipping open the lid. You were greeted by a…cake? It didn’t look like much of one, more lumpy than flat, with icing smeared over the top, decorated with scrawled red letters. Curtis had definitely made this himself, and you couldn’t have been more happy with the gesture, both of you having stepped outside your comfort zones today. Until you attempted to read the words on top:

“Old white men can shove it?”

You looked over your shoulder at Curtis, his eyes wide and staring straight ahead. Well, more like to the side, at one of the stools he had moved. You followed his line of sight, finding an identical pink box at the end of it. Your body instantly shook with laughter against his tight hold as you leaned in his grasp to grab the box.

“Curtis, did you make two cakes?” You placed the cardboard down on the counter, feeling the way he hid himself in your neck again, this time in embarrassment as you could feel the warmth grow in his cheeks.

He sighed, debating whether or not to answer you truthfully, but there was no use in denying what was directly in front of both of you. “Yeah, but I promise I really had no doubts you’d get the job. You just never know, though. It wouldn’t have been on you, it would’ve been on those old white men that need to retire instead of turning down every good candidate in front of them.”

You smiled and rolled your eyes. He essentially pulled the words out of your mouth regarding how you had told him you felt about all those hiring managers and executives that ran things in their ivory towers. You lifted the lid of the second box to see decorations placed with much more care.

“Congratulations, Tiger. I’m proud of you.”

You swear you could’ve melted right there. You turned around and placed your hands on his cheeks, leaning in for another kiss. “Thank you. I love it.”

The later part of the evening found the two of you laying on the couch, box between you with the non-celebratory cake half gone. The other cake was to be saved for tomorrow, as your parents said they’d be visiting for a congratulatory dinner with you and Curtis.

Bites were taken here and there as the two of you nearly drifted off to the evening news. Curtis stirred on the cushion, pulling your feet off his lap to lean forward and place the box on the coffee table, not before swiping icing off and booping it onto your nose.

Your eyes shot open at the betrayal as you gasped, realizing what had happened. Curtis let out a giggle as he leaned back quickly, evading your swiping grasp. You scrambled to get up as he was already making his way down the hall, running for you to chase.

“Curtis! I’m gonna get you!” Your socked feet slipped on the floor as your ran after him, almost catching up as he rushed into the bedroom. Before he could close the door, you shoved a leg in and squeezed through the entrance. He made an attempt to move to the other side of the room, found to be unsuccessful as you jumped and tackled him onto the bed, mattress bouncing with the impact. His minor struggle ended up with him on his back beneath you, you straddling his narrow hips, and your hands pinning his arms above his head into the comforter.

“Gotcha.” You spoke in a taunting tone. “Now get this icing off my face so you and I can enjoy the rest of our night together.”

Curtis looked up at you with something between a smirk and a grin. “Gladly, Sweetheart.”

He leaned up and licked the icing off the tip of your nose, moving down to kiss you briefly with the sweet taste on his lips, then pulling away, his previously mischievous face beginning to soften, but not fully yet. “Now that you’re all cleaned up, what was that you said about the plans for the rest of the night?”

Curtis wrapped a leg around one of yours for leverage, flipping the two of you over so you were now pinned beneath him in the same position. Your breath hitched at the feeling of him overtop of you, looking down at your face, sharing a smile as he pressed his growing bulge against you.

“Have I told you how proud I am of you?” It came out almost as a whisper as he lowered himself to nose against your neck, pressing kisses sporadically.

You hummed, throwing your head back to give him more room. “Maybe. I think you might need to tell me again, though. I’m not sure if I caught it earlier.”

Curtis laughed against your skin, one hand remaining over yours, the other gently tracing up your side, pushing up your shirt with it. The feeling of his callused fingertips against your soft skin sent shivers through your body, paired with the tingles from him moving down to kiss the newly exposed skin. “Apologies sweet girl, let me show you how proud I am.”

He released your hands to hook his fingers under your pants, pulling them down to fully expose your lower half, leaving your arms free to remove your shirt, bra long gone since shortly after you had entered your home.

Curtis kissed up one leg to the juncture of your thighs, switching to the other and doing the same before opening your legs more and pressing a featherlight kiss to your core. You did your best to keep your head up, holding his gaze as he savored your body.

“I’ll never stop, until the end of time, telling you how amazing you are. And how lucky I am to be with a talented, driven, fierce woman.” Small licks against your clit punctuated every adjective and you couldn’t help the way you shuddered under the praise and the sensation.

Before Curtis could dive into your pleasure, though, you placed a hand on his jaw, pulling his face up to yours. Your hands traced down his hips, running under his shirt and feeling his firm abs before tucking into his waistband and pushing for him to take off his sweatpants and underwear. His eyelashes fluttered against you, his body wearing too much clothing overtop of your naked one.

“Please. Please, Curtis. I just want to feel you.” It was breathed into the warm, thick air you shared. Curtis wordlessly nodded, quickly undressing as you shifted fully onto the bed. As he crawled over you, you traced your nails against the tattoos and chest hair that decorated his gorgeous chest.

Curtis grabbed your leg, hooking it against his waist, sinking down for another kiss, sloppy with love and admiration. One hand held the side of your head, thumb stroking your cheek, as the other reached down to perch him at your entrance, already glistening with arousal for the man who treated you like the most precious thing in the universe.

Curtis’s reverent eyes shifted between yours and your entrance as you nodded and whined to him. He slowly pushed in the tip, the stretch of your entrance welcoming him home rewarding your ears with his deep groan as your arms flung around his back, grasping for a hold as you transcended from this plane of existence.

Your bodies fit perfectly together as he continued to slowly slip in, inch by inch, without the normal preparation, bringing only wholeness. As his hips finally became flush with yours, the both of you sighed with relief at the deepest connection.

Curtis began to pull out, thrusting back in with just as much tender care, reaching a slow, amatory rhythm. His eyes still never left yours, the only thing in the world being what was in your line of sight. His hips continued to roll against you as he spoke against your lips. “I’m so, so proud of you. Always have been. Always will be.”

You expected to feel the weight of the day crash over you, all the stress you had gone through catching up past the excitement, but instead, it hit Curtis’s back and rolled off, shielding you from all possible worries and creating a bubble of warmth. At the thought of all the instances where he showed his regard for you, you felt wetness pour over your cheeks, swiped and kissed away by Curtis as he cooed at you.

There are only a few times where Curtis has made you cry during sex, all of them from when he treats you with care, reverently cradling your body and showing his love through slow, firm movements. Pulling you under as the emotions overflow through your eyes, manifesting as tears that hold a weight worth worlds of the gracious product of his veneration.

“I know, I know, sweet thing. You’re doing so well. You always do. You’re so incredible.” His praise and the sheer love of the moment was pushing you towards the edge, constituents stacking up. Curtis moved his thumb down to your clit, rubbing steadily in tandem with his thrusts, causing your cup to spill over as your entire being shook. You clenched against him, body contracting in on itself as you tucked your forehead against his chest. Curtis stroked your hair, holding you close to him as he came with you, shooting ropes of his release within your fluttering walls, further bonding the two of you in your ecosystem of intimacy and affection.

He held you closely as the two of you caught your breaths, before flipping over. You sunk into him as he remained inside of you, the both of you feeling sleepy with satisfaction. Curtis rubbed circles against your back, peppering kisses against your shoulders and hairline, speaking against your sweat-laced brow. “You’re phenomenal. And I’ll do whatever I have to, to prove that to you, forever and ever.”

Bonus A/N: All I can hope for you and myself is to have someone this amazing😭😭🥹

[kimerawrt]

DP x DC: Reincarnation

(this idea keeps bothering me so I'm launching it into the void of tumblr)

Danny is the ghost king, has been for a hundred or so years, and had been working non stop to fix the mess pariah dark made. He did but he keeps working almost like an obsession (its not thankfully)

Cause working with no pause is not healthy even if one is dead, CW and other ancients decide to give their king a forced reincarnation vacation. Their king gets a rest of his duties by living a human life while they manage the zone, cause a human life is nothing to ghosts that have existed for millennia, they can wait for their king to return.

The high king of the ghost zone is born again with a new name. His name is Bruce Wayne.

(more under the cut)

Bruce is a happy child, and a very smart one. He understand machines in some strange way and is incredible good with physics (specially astrophysics). His parents are aware of how smart he is and encourage him to learn more things, Bruce learns a lot of how to manage a business from his dad and his mom teaches his about lots of things but mostly on how to think logically and deduct the truth

For some strange reason animals seem to like him, specially cats, dogs, crows and bats. When Bruce falls into the well he is scared by the bats but calms down enough to know the bats are also scared

Bruce is a happy child, until his parents are murdered in front of him.

Bruce feels like something in him breaks at that. his emotions are so painful that its almost physical. Alfred is the only one he has left and he becomes very protective of his butler

Bruce grows up with grief in his heart. He graduates high school with the biggest honors and goes to college. He tries engineering and leaves it. He tries medicine and leaves it too. He cant move past his parents murder and he cant unseen how his beloved city seems to get worse and worse.

Bruce decides to do something to fix all of that. He now has a mission. He drops out of college, makes a well thought plan and leaves to train leaving a letter behind to Alfred cause he knows if he sees the butler he wouldnt be able to leave. He needs the training.

For a year, Bruce looks for the best experts in a lot of fighting styles, offensive and defensive, things happen and he stars training with the League of Assassins. Bruce is good and learns fast but there is something in there that makes him extremely wary and make him work very hard to not get hurt

The Lazarus Pit

Those glowing green boiling waters gave him a bad feeling. Sometimes Bruce could swear the were whispering at him, calling to him to let them give him something he ought to have. Bruce was smart and knew that would be nothing good and he didnt ask the others if they too could hear the weird waters. He was sure Ra's would kill him for it. The guy was obsessed with the thing.

Unfortunately for him, in the final test to be an assassin, Bruce got hurt enough to need to be put in the waters to not die. Ra's saw potential in him and he was not going to lose someone that good in fighting.

In the waters, Bruce was being healed but something else was going on. The Lazarus Pit was made of a mix of ectoplasm, purified waters from long lost oceans and death magic. That combination made the waters heal all organic organisms in exchange for something, for sentient beings was their sanity and for non sentients was their will

Its a good thing that the ectoplasm in it recognized their king soul and the death magic was not able to take, but it could give as well.

That day Bruce Wayne remembered his last life and knew what awaited him after he died. That night, Bruce escapes from the League and returns to Gotham.

Once home, Bruce pass some time with Alfred telling little things about his travels. Alfred gives him a look that told Bruce that the butler knew he was not telling him everything. It doesnt takes long for Bruce to tell Alfred everything, the hidden parts of his travels, the League and his memories from a previous life. He could never hide things from Alfred for long.

Alfred believes him and declares that Bruce is his guard no matter what he had been or done. Bruce is happy to have Alfred with him.

Bruce had not forgotten his mission to fix Gotham and after searching for a place to train and build things he finds the Cave under his house. For some reason it feels nostalgic, as if one could build a portal to the realm of the dead in there. Of course Bruce has no plan of doing that.

While building his gadgets to fight crime in Gotham, Bruce also builds something he saw the Fentons do before the portal. It was a machine to gather ectoplasm in a passive way. He had a suspicion that the city was not only contaminated by smog but there was also something supernatural in it.

When the first drops of glowing green ectoplasm filled the vial he had left under the machine Bruce knew he was right. As it only took some days to gather it, it was clear that there was an unusual high concentration of ecto in the city. It would be too easy to open a portal in here.

Bruce then used the gathered ecto to power up his supercomputer and many more tools. He was also working on making a car powered up with it. Of course he was not going to let the bright glowing green be seen in whatever he is making.

Alfred had a slight suspicion that besides being the ghost king, his guard might be also a mad scientist

Bruce might have also kinda tamed the colony of bats living in the cave. Making sure all of them were healthy and vaccinated was a nightmare he was not willing to repeat.

Because of working with ectoplasm, Batman always gives an uncanny feeling to the criminals and makes most of them give up in fear. Batman becomes a cryptid very soon, though the police still tries to arrest him, Bruce gets a odd nostalgic feeling at being chased with guns shooting at him

it only takes a year after Batman is out fighting crime for a ghost to show up. Luckily that ghost is just Cujo. Now Bruce has a very good guard dog to protect his house and Alfred

Thanks to Cujo Bruce discovers the city has an spirit and its kinda cursed. Its too bad he had no knowledge of what kind of magic is affecting the city. And because his current human body is not magical he can do little to help. Having Cujo chase away maligns shades seems to help some.

When the rogues appear they remind Bruce of the ghosts he fought when he was a half ghost. Though, he knows they are alive and can change for the better unlike the dead that are stuck and need something too drastic to change. Although Arkham is so corrupt that Bruce has to fight another type of fight to fix that, one that unfortunately he cant punch away

When Bruce sees how the child in the circus is left alone after witnessing his parents death, or course he would want to help. He didnt expect that Robin would join him in his night job

Then another child tries to steal his wheels and ends up adopting him, he also didnt expect the new Robin and by know he would seen the pattern

When Jason is killed by the Joker, Bruce is devastated and seeks vengeance. Batman cant kill, thats a rule he imposed to his vigilante persona. But he didnt need to be Batman to get revenge and the teachings of the League of Assassins come in handy. He knew that if he killed the Joker his soul would belong to him and he would get a better revenge when he becomes the ghost king once more.

An unknown assassin kills the Joker

Twice

There is something strange in Gotham. Something that makes the Joker come back to life a little bit more unhinged every time. Something that made Jason Todd crawl out of his grave some months after burying him

Time passes, Bruce gets more children and gets in more fights. Then Jason comes back to Gotham filled with the Pit madness. But when he tries to confront Batman, the Pit calms down in the presence of its king.

Jason is happy to not having to fight the Pit all the time, he still becomes the crime lord/anti-hero Red Hood, though his relationship with his dad is not bad after they had a talk, mostly of Bruce killing the Joker more than once already (they probably go to kill the Joker again as a bonding activity or something)

-There would be other shenanigans in between all this like:

+the kids discovering you can bring food back to like with ectoplasm and making a mess in the kitchen, everyone but Jason gets a life ban from Alfred domain

+the other heroes of the League thinking Batman has a meta power to make him appear intimidating, tho it wouldnt explain where he gets the strange technology or why some could swear a green see through puppy follows the dark night even in the watchtower

+Batman and Deadman make a strange friendship in the eyes of the other, Deadman knows the bat has the soul of his king but as he is not king now its fine to be casual, the ghost adores Cujo and pets it all the time