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fishnapple · 6 months ago

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How they comfort you, their love languages

(Future spouse/partner/lover)

This is a mini reading about the things that your partner/spouse would do or say to comfort you.

This is a general reading meant for multiple people. Take only what resonates and leave out the rest.

Your feedback is much appreciated. If you find the reading resonated with you, leave a comment, I’d love to know 🎐

About me | Masterpost

Book a reading with me - KO-FI (→ personal reading)

CUBE 1

"Our life together is the most important thing"

"You're alive, I'm alive and that's good"

Tickle

Clumsy jokes that make your belly hurt

"Let's go to the beach"

"Whatever you do, I'm right beside you"

"Don't worry"

"Don't be afraid to fall, I will catch you"

"I'm your biggest fan"

Silent understanding

Scary movies that make you jump into their arms

Passionate, emotional sex

The warmth of their body

Holding you in the dark

Holding your hands whenever you go out together

Warm breads and fresh flowers

Board games

Forehead kiss

"Let's run away"

"I will find you again even when you've become a star on the heavenly sky"

CUBE 2

Surprise gifts, this person could spoil you a lot with material gifts

"I will get it for you"

They would do many things to make your life easier without you knowing: take care of your routines, pack your lunch, iron your clothes, etc

Change the colour of the curtains and bed sheets to cheer you up,

Date nights

Take you to see the sunset, to somewhere dark and windy, surrounded by nature

"No problem "

"Let's me take care of it"

They comfort you in your dreams

Intuitively guess your thoughts

Whisper loving words when you are in public places

Be with you through every social events

"My greatest achievement is to be their partner"

Boast about you everywhere they go

"I command you to love me", then proceed to massage your feet

Holding you silently while you spill out your darkest secrets

Direct in displaying their desire for you

CUBE 3

Act all tough and intimidating with other people but become a mushy romantic when they're with you, especially in private

Never fail to notice and compliment your effort at taking care and beautifying yourself

Getting heart eyes both when seeing you in leisurewear and in glamorous clothes

Try to sing for you even if they hate singing or not good at it

Love poems

When they find it hard to express their feelings through words, they express through material gifts and sensory pleasures instead

Just buying you stuffs and pretend to not know about it or act oblivious and nonchalant

Wrap you in softest blanket

"Let's go into the bathtub together"

Drying your hair

Take lots of pictures, of you alone, of you guys together, of your memories

"You're my best friend, let's me be your best friend"

"I love you "

CUBE 4

"I've loved you before and I will love you again"

"See you in our next life together "

Appear right when you need them

Act more confident and tough

The heat of their body

Pull you into them

"Lean on me"

Witty jokes

Irrelevant stories to distract you from whatever negative feelings you're having

Hand holding

Lots of notes

Phone calls throughout the day

Try to talk in the softest voice when they're with you

"Let's play video game"

"Let's me draw your silly face"

"Let's take a day off and go to where nobody knows us"

The meadows, the sea, the mountains

Take your pleasure as their top priority

Love making

"I'm afraid that this is all a dream, but as I go to sleep and wake up everyday, you're still there"

"Your pain is my pain "

Warn anyone dares to come in between you two

CUBE 5

"Nothing can stand between us"

"We can go anywhere we want"

"I believe in us"

"Hey, teach me how to do this"

Make plan for both of you

"Let's me read Tarot for you"

Always on time

Keep their promises, from smallest one to biggest one

Cakes and sweets

Warmth food

Hype you up

Eager to hear you talk

Patience

Try to be silly just to cheer you up even though they seem to be a pretty serious person

Laughter

Refer to you as "my love" when talking with other people

PDA

"I think I'd done good deeds in my past lives, that's why I met you"

Looking deep into your eyes

"I believe this relationship has changed us for the better"

Ride of die

"Till death do us apart "

CUBE 6

"You were alone, but now you have me"

Act childish and cute to get your attention

Also love it when you do the same to them

"Let's get married "/ "Let's get married every year"

Tell you about their childhood nightmares and how embarrassing they were

"I was told to wait for you when I was a kid"

Has no shame in acting embarrassing or silly just to make you laugh, even in public

"Do you want to date me" (even when you guys have been married for a long time)

Handmade gifts

Corny pickup lines

Genius at solving problems

Try to get you to debate about odd topics

Looking intimidating and professional in public but don't care about people's opinions, especially about you and your relationship

Will defend you in any conflicts

Take your side unconditionally

Willing to share everything with you

Honesty

Think of a new way to affirm their love everyday

"We make a great team"

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sm-baby · 6 months ago

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YOOO Mei SEC design reveal?! I mean, idk what I expected since its literally just ur sona, but its still a bit surprising since until now the only art of you in SEC has been that gif of u sitting in a chair swirling a wine glass. Ig the vibe of 'mysterious villain we never see' got to me lmaooo

SEVEN EVIL CLONES - Mushy Concept art

ko-fi❤️|| Seven Evil Clones MASTERPOST🧬

If it makes you feel any better, She wasn't originally just gonna be my sona uwu

#seven evil clones #mushy #sona art #sec Mushy

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too-much-tma-stuff · 1 year ago

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Fear is a Dangerous Thing (Part 10)

A friend edited this for me because my brain is so mushy today but I haven't checked their work. Let me know if you find anything wrong.

TW: Torture, child abuse, descriptions of violence, panic attacks

Previous | Masterpost

Tim led the way to the meeting hall and opened the door to the meeting room where a bunch of the core members of the JL were already sitting. “Right, thank you for coming,” Tim started as Nightwing ushered the rest of them into the room, leading them to four empty chairs that were probably supposed to be for the teens and Nightwing. Instead the rest of the Teen Titans stood in the back and Hyena and Phantasm were sat between Hood and Nightwing. The collected members of the JL made various sounds of shock and anger at the sight of them, (Constantine looked green around the gills).

Robin completely ignored all of them and carried on as if nothing was wrong. “I’ve recently become aware of a troubling conspiracy that the Justice League must not be aware of.”

“Robin, what are they doing here?” Batman growled, watching Hyena and Hood warily.

“Phantasm is the newest member to Teen Titans, and both she and Hyena have been directly harmed by this conspiracy, so I invited them both to be here,” Robin said calmly. “Besides, though I independently verified all of it, the majority of my information originally came from Hyena. So if you have any questions at the end they’d probably be best directed to him.” Batman opened his mouth again and Robin raised his voice slightly, “Hold your questions till after the presentation please,” Robin chided before he switched to the next slide and carried on as if nothing had happened.

The presentation contained just about everything they needed to know, about the anti-ecto acts and the entire group of people that they targeted including a few members of the JL if the GIW ever got brave enough. It included that they had been experimenting on sentient and sapient beings and killed multiple people, that they were affiliated with the government and had plans for weapons of mass destruction specifically targeting these beings, and that they had taken over a small town and instilled a complete media blackout.

In other words they were unethical and illegal and the fact that the JL had allowed it to happen was nearly unforgivable.

“That concludes my presentation,” Robin announced, “If there are any-”

“Before you wrap up I have some… supplemental material. Because it’s one thing to hear about it and another thing to see it. I want you to see it,” Hyena interrupted with venom in his voice as he got up. Robin looked confused but he surrendered the projector remote to Hyena and allowed him to plug in his USB. Before he started it Hyena went back to his seat and glanced at Phantasm, hesitating for a moment.

“Little Star, would you mind leaving the room? Or coming here. I don’t want you to see this,” Danny said softly and Phantasm looked at him, judging his expression for a moment before she nodded and slid out of her chair and onto his lap. She had regressed just a little after everything, acting younger and more subservient for lack of a better word. She allied allowed him to cup the back of her neck and hide her face against his shoulder before he started clicking through the images.

The first one was a picture of him as Phantom with Sam, Tucker, and Jazz, then the death certificates of everyone in the photo besides him. Next was a picture of Phantom when he’d first been captured by the GIW, crying, collared and gagged, looking at the person behind the camera with a pleading expression and obvious fear. There were many more after that, all bloody. They had kept a proper muzzle on him the entire time so he couldn’t scream, so his face was hidden somewhat. They showed him with his arms cut open or even off, his chest cut open and broken apart so you could see all his organs, his throat dissected and the skin pinned apart, and many worse things.

With each picture the life faded from his eyes, he was still alive in all of them but the fear, and pain, and any possible hope died in his eyes as he dissociated from the situation over years. Then there was a collection of other images, Ellie strapped to a table, destabilizing, then in the tube. Vlad’s intake photo collared and bound, then his autopsy. Ember with her arm cut off and screaming. Finally a somewhat blurry photo Danny had taken himself after his escape of the makeshift stitches and bulging wound, he had to just shove a few organs back in after all, the blood, pus, and ectoplasm leaking out of it. Someone gagged, Danny didn’t look to see who.

“In that first photo I had just turned 16, the GIW took me soon after that, killing everyone who tried to protect me from them. They kept me for two years, you just saw what they did, and the results. The GIW may seem inept, and they often are, but they are also sadistic and ruthless. They do real harm. Phantasm and I are the only people still alive to testify about it, and only then because I’m functionally immortal and she destabilized before they could get far.”

Once he finished he turned off the projector and let Ellie up and off of his lap, allowing her to slip back into her seat as he got up to grab his USB. The room was silent for a long moment, everyone's expressions ranging from furious, to heartbroken, to dissociated. Martian Manhunter, Wonder Woman, and Zatana in particular looked like they would like to tear the entire organization apart with their bare hands right now!

Jason felt a bit sick. He really would have liked a warning that Danny was going to do that because, even though he had seen the scars, it was a very different thing to see the wounds themselves. They were just as extensive as he had feared. At least now he understood why Danny had had so many panic attacks this week, if he’d been setting that up in the background it was half a wonder he hadn’t had more!

“What do you mean you're functionally immortal?” Batman demanded.

“They’re threatening the Infinite Realms?” Constantine squeaked.

“How have we let them get away with this!” Lamented Martian Manhunter.

All three nearly at the same time, it was an explosion of sound as a few others spoke as well, or tried to respond. Jason wrapped an arm around Danny’s shoulder, feeling him shaking a little bit, that had been very brave of him and Jason did think it would have the effect Danny wanted, but this explosion of emotion had to get out of the way.

One of the louder voices in the room though, was Superman, and Jason did not like what he was saying.

“Are the people of the Infinite Realms a threat?” Superman asked Constantine. “Should we have weapons to defend ourselves against them?”

Which, honestly, were fair questions but now was Not the time! Jason was sure the people from the Infinite Realms could be a threat but they hadn’t been and they had a very good reason to defend themselves. These were sentient people, would he be asking the same questions about a new species of mer? But he had already known Superman could be surprisingly intolerant for someone with his reputation.

“If we need to defend ourselves against the Realms we’re already fucked!” Constantine nearly shouted at Superman. “We should be dealing with this and be very grateful that they don’t have a king to organize them against us right now!”

“That could just make them more dangerous! If there’s no leader that we can make a treaty with then how can we trust them?” Superman argued.

“You don’t have to trust someone to know what the GIW is wrong!” Manhunter accused furiously.

“That’s not what I’m saying, of course it’s wrong,” Superman tried to placate, but it wasn’t working on Manhunter, and it wasn’t working on Danny either.

Jason and Ellie clocked it first, that the temperature in the room had been steadily dropping and was now almost ten degrees cooler than it had been at the start of the meeting. When Jason glanced over with concern he saw Hyena sitting perfectly still, his chest heaving in short shallow breaths and his eyes fixed on Superman, swirling with a very dangerous shade of green. Jason stood abruptly, slamming his hands down on the table in front of Hyena, startling him enough that his building rage turned sharply into fear and he flinched back, knocking over his chair.

"What-" Someone asked indignantly into the sudden silence as Danny backed up quickly till he hit the wall, curling in on himself.

"Everyone who doesn't know our faces, out!" Jason ordered abruptly.

"You can't just-"

"He's having a panic attack and you're making it worse! You know how dangerous panic can be in someone with powers! OUT!" He ordered and, begrudgingly but swiftly, he was obeyed and the heroes filed out of the room. The only ones left were Batman, Nightwing, Robin, and Phantasm. Jason ignored all of them.

He took off his helmet as he approached Danny quickly and crouched in front where he was curled on the floor, eyes unfocused. Jason unlatched Danny’s muzzle and took off one of his gloves, hearing a gasp behind him as he slapped Danny with an open palm, cupped for more sound than sting, enough to bring him back to the here and now. He grabbed Danny's face and forced him to look towards Jason.

"Look at me Cub," He cajoled, but Danny didn't hear, still reeling and panting. "Look at me!" Jason ordered this time and Danny obeyed, focusing on him finally. "What do you need?"

"Hold me," Danny gasped.

"Hold you or Hold You?" Jason asked.

"Hold Me," Danny hissed as he practically threw himself at Jason who braced himself and grabbed Danny quickly. He dragged them both up and spun Danny around, getting a hold on both of his wrists with opposite hands and wrapping Danny's own arms around his waist like a makeshift straight-jacket.

Jason stepped back into a fighting stand pulling Danny with him so he was off balance, and leaned back, bracing himself and keeping his head out of range as Danny thrashed and snarled in his grip, getting out his energy without trying to get away.

Jason didn't know how long it went on, but he knew his shoulders were sore by the time Danny went limp again in his hold, finally breathing properly again.

"Okay?" Jason asked sternly.

"Ya, okay. Thank you," Danny responded, meek and tired. Finally aware of what was going on around them he looked at the others in the room, and winced a little when he saw the worry and fear on Ellie’s face. Tim and Dick look worried too, Batman… Danny couldn’t tell what he was feeling. “Sorry about that guys, I’m okay now,” Danny said as Jason let him go slowly, easing him back into supporting his own weight.

Ellie rushed to hug him and Danny hugged back, pressing his face into her hair. Dick approached more slowly, avoiding sudden movements that might freak Danny out again. “Are you sure you’re okay? That was… a lot. I’m so sorry for everything you’ve been through.”

“That shouldn’t have happened-” Batman started, and Jason had no idea how he was planning to end that sentence because Danny didn’t let him.

“Well it did, you can’t save everyone, and now it’s too late. I’m never going to be what I was before they broke me,” He said, blunt and honest, Jason winced.

“Are you alright to bring the JL back in? They’ll have questions. If not it’s alright, Hood can take you home and we can handle the rest,” Robin told Danny.

“If you do stay I’ll make sure they behave themselves,” Nightwing put in with a grim set to his jaw.

Now Danny could read Batman’s expression, he looked startled. He hadn’t known Nightwing and Robin had gotten so close to Hood and Hyena behind his back. Danny wondered if he was more likely to question their judgment or his own in the face of this revelation.

“No, I can stay. I want to stay,” Danny insisted. He had been worked up already, and then upset by what Superman was saying, especially since he already didn’t have a particularly high opinion of the big blue boy scout since his treatment of Kon. “As long as they all don’t yell over each other like that again, too much noise,” Danny said, shaking his head.

Danny slowly eased Ellie out of his arms, guiding her back to the table so he could slump back in his own chair. He dropped his face into his hands and took a few deep breath, Jason could practically see him counting to ground himself. Quietly he approached and scooped up their masks again, putting his helmet back on before gently nudging Danny’s arm and putting the muzzle down in front of him.

“Agreed. They shouldn’t have behaved that way in front of outsiders to begin with. I’ll talk to them." He started to leave before pausing and looking between Hyena and Phantasm. "It was brave of you to come to us about this. If there is any protection the two of you need to make sure that you do not face consequences from these people, we will gladly provide it.” Batman said and swept out of the room.

Danny lifted his head and saw the mask, giving Jason a little smile before he put it back on, doing the buckle up behind his head again and making sure it was secure on his face. He was as ready as he was going to be to face the rest of the JL again. At least Batman seemed to hate him less than he did before he knew a bit more of Danny’s backstory and exactly why he was like this. He thought that was fair, he didn’t think that anyone could remain sane after everything he had been through.

There was a knock on the door and Nightwing opened it, the rest of the assembled JL members filed back in, more quiet and calm now. They took their seats again, Superman looked a little sheepish, Kon paused to squeeze both Phantasm and Hyena’s shoulders, Danny patted his hand lightly giving him a grateful look. He’d like to have a better bond with Kon, all of the Teen Titan team really, but Kon in particular, he deserved a better support network with such shitty progenitors.

“He’s telling the truth,” Constantine cut in before the ruffled feathers around the table could progress to fighting again. “We do not want to mess with those fuckers, being beneath their notice, and letting them keep that tyrant king of theirs locked up, is the best that we can hope for there."

“We’re sorry our response wasn’t ideal,” Wonder Woman told Hyena diplomatically. “It was a shock, but that’s no excuse for making this harder on you. It was brave of both of you,” She praised.

“Thank you,” Hyena said, leaning back in his seat, his hands still pressed flat against the table. “I want to make it clear that the people of the infinite realms are a threat. It contains every afterlife, demons and gods and various other ancient and powerful beings. Violence is a culture and a language. However, most of us have very little interest in the living and the mortal. Despite being without a monarch there are rules about interacting with the living worlds, humans don’t exactly put up an entertaining fight anyway, a bit boring all around,

“All of this to say, if you don’t antagonize the Infinite Realms the Vast majority of its inhabitants will continue to happily ignore you, and if you do antagonize them you will lose.” The declaration held no doubt at all”

Hyena inclined his head towards Constantine in a subtle gesture of gratitude for the backup. “With that in mind if you ever have to deal with something from the Infinite Realms, call me. I’m from this world but I’m of the Infinite Realms as well, as long as Hood agrees, I will help.”

“As long as Hood agrees?” Batman questioned, his gaze sharp. Next to him Constantine hissed and moved to elbow him before apparently thinking better of it.

“Yes. You know this Batman,” Hyena chided him, rolling his eyes at the super hero. “I am… potentially stronger than any one individual here, but I answer to him. You need my help, ask him.”

“If you want a demonstration I’m sure he’d be happy to provide. Just not where there’s anyone to get caught in the crossfire,” Jason put in smugly. “Right Hyena?”

“Oh absolutely,” Danny agreed with an unnervingly feral cackle. “I can survive in space, maybe Big Blue and I can give the moon a few more craters! Wait, no, probably better not use the moon we might knock it out of orbit. Mmmm Neptune?”

“Maybe some other time!” Constantine squeaked before anyone could make the mistake of taking a Realms creature up on his offer to fight.

“Too bad,” Hyena sighed leaning back in his seat, his mask hiding his pout. “I haven’t really gotten to let loose in ages.”

“We’ve gotten off topic,” Martian Manhunter said. Jason bit back a laugh at how quickly Danny subsided after being chided by his favourite hero. “What are we going to do about the GIW?”

#dc x dp #danny phantom #jason todd #dead on main #fanfiction #batman #nightwing #robin!tim #superboy #dani phantom #superman #john constantine #wonder woman #martian manhunter

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shanklin · 4 months ago

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The Sad Selfish Shellfish and the Curious Case of the Deadbeaten Dad

Or just Selfish Shellfish AU for short.

Thanks to everyone who helped my find a name and bullied me into making it fishy!

Selfish Shellfish AU - Masterpost

Why Shellfish, you might ask, Shellfish aren’t real fish.

And to that I say, EXACTLY.

They’re fake fish. Just like our Sad Selfish Shellfish Stanley who keeps putting on a hard outer shell so no one will see his soft mushy insides that are so easily hurt.

He’s great at faking being something he’s not!

If you look up Shellfish on Wikipedia, it tells you not to confuse shellfish with selfish. The whole AU could’ve been avoided if they just checked the wiki.

Also, Shellfish can accidentally kill you. So that makes perfect sense.

This AU is definitely not named after Shellfish because @babyblankyerror suggested Selfish Shellfish in the tags, which made me laugh so hard that I choked and now I can’t stop saying Selfish Shellfish out loud.

Now please scroll one post down and enjoy a little celebration!

#Selfish Shellfish AU #formerly known as #the very sad no good very bad relativity falls au that didn't have a name because i didnt think i needed one #not me scrambling to find excuses why Stan is a shrimp now #now i just have to fix all the tags but thats for later #thank you for everyone that stuck and still sticks with this mess #it's a lot of fun

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pascalmybeloved · 11 days ago

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CHAPTER 4: MAGIC HANDS

Previous Chapter | Next Chapter | Masterpost | Read on AO3

Pairing: Jackson!Joel Miller x F!Doctor OC | Enemies to Lovers

Word Count: 3.7k

WARNINGS: 18+ MINORS DNI - infected attack, parental death/grief, use of weapons, medical trauma, PTSD symptoms and flashbacks, alcohol use

A/N: WE LOVE A FORCED PROXIMITY MOMENT!!!!!! Also, I know I'm not a big account on here and am just getting into writing on this account, but thank you to everyone for the positive feedback on this story so far:,) I'm so excited for how it's panning out and I hope y'all enjoy ♡

Ages 13-17, Firefly Safehouse, Midwest Outpost

The power was out again. Ris lit the burner stove by hand, the flare of flame reflecting in the smeared window above the sink. The safehouse was quiet except for the soft rattle of wind against the boarded glass. Annie sat cross-legged on the counter, chin tucked into her hoodie, watching her sister stir a pot of canned peaches and rice like it was a gourmet meal.

“Why do you always eat those?” Annie asked, nose scrunched. “They’re mushy.”

Ris didn’t look up. “They’re sweet.”

“So?”

“So everything else tastes like metal or regret.”

Annie giggled. Ris allowed herself the smallest smile.

“You’re weird,” Annie muttered.

“You’re alive,” Ris said back. “That’s all I care about.”

Later that night, Ris found Annie curled in her cot, whispering to herself—one of the old lullabies their mom used to hum when she still remembered the words. The same melody, over and over.

Ris stood in the doorway a moment. Then crept in, slow and careful, and lay down beside her. Annie shifted, head resting against her shoulder.

“I don’t wanna grow up,” Annie mumbled. “People die when they grow up.”

Ris didn’t know how to answer that. So she didn’t.

She just pulled the blanket higher and hummed the tune back, matching her sister's breath.

It wasn’t long after that night that Ris saw her first infected up close.

She and her father had gone on a routine perimeter check—something to stretch their legs and break up the sameness of safehouse quarantine. He’d handed her a hunting knife and said, “It’s like carving through gristle, not like in the books. You freeze, you die.”

She’d nodded like she understood.

But when the thing stumbled out of the tree line—half-collapsed jaw, wild eyes, skin ballooned with fungus—her legs locked.

It moved faster than she expected. All teeth and blood and muscle memory.

Her dad tackled it before it reached her, driving a blade into its neck with one quick, practiced jerk. It screamed wetly. Collapsed in a heap of twitching limbs.

Ris stood frozen. Staring.

He wiped his blade clean on its shirt and looked back at her.

“You don’t get second chances out here, Ris,” he said. “Not with them. You wanna live? You learn to strike first.”

She never forgot the smell. Wet rot and adrenaline. The sound of it gargling through the last of its air.

That night, she practiced stabbing into sandbags until her arms ached.

When her father died in a raid two months later, it was Dr. Anderson who found her in the medical tent—bloody, pale, hands clenched too tight around a syringe she’d never had to use alone before.

He didn’t take the tools from her. Just sat beside her and waited for her to breathe again.

Later, he showed her how to make a tourniquet from a belt and the plastic tubing from a broken IV bag. How to identify a collapsed lung by the color of blood. How to think faster than fear.

“You’ve got magic hands,” he said once after she sutured a split sternum in under three minutes. “Best I’ve ever seen. You keep that up, you’ll outwork every man in this damn camp by the time you’re twenty.”

She’d flushed at the praise. But part of her had burned too. Because that’s what it was like—being the girl who knew too much. Every mistake was magnified. Every success explained away. Magic hands or not, they always looked twice at her work and half as long at anyone else’s.

Dr. Anderson was different. At least, she’d thought so.

Back then.

Age 25 — Jackson, WY, Winter — One Month in Jackson

The third one moved too fast.

Joel’s rifle was already raised, braced against his shoulder, eyes locked on the treeline where two infected had already fallen—but this last one came from the blindside. It peeled itself out from behind a rusting generator, bone-white fingers curled like hooks, mouth split wide and weeping rot. The sound it made was somewhere between a growl and a sob—wet and feral and too close.

Joel pivoted just in time to see it fly at him.

He fired.

Click.

The chamber was empty.

“Fuck—”

The weight of it cracked his spine into the earth, knocked the wind clean from his lungs. Boots kicked uselessly against the ice, his knife already swallowed by the snow. His rifle skittered out of reach.

Then teeth—grinding down on the thick fabric of his coat as he threw his arm up, felt them scrape the surface just inches from skin. The stench was unbearable. Decay and heat and copper.

He saw something move behind the creature’s shoulder. A flicker.

THWACK.

The infected jerked once, spasmed. Then crumpled on top of him like wet sandbags. The pry bar was still lodged in its skull.

Joel shoved it off with a grunt, sucked in a breath so sharp it singed his throat. He blinked through the blood mist. Through the haze of panic.

She was standing over him.

Ris. Still and trembling, breath heaving in clouds, knuckles white around the metal she’d just used to kill a man-shaped monster. Her face was ash-pale. Blood flecked her cheek. But her eyes—God, her eyes were steady.

The bar slipped from her fingers and hit the snow with a thud that sounded louder than it should have. Joel sat up, slow and shaking, palms smeared red.

They looked at each other like people do after something irreversible.

She said nothing. Just turned and started walking.

She was limping—left leg dragging slightly, a fresh tear down her jeans—but she didn’t slow down. Didn’t glance back. Joel dragged himself up and followed. Boots heavy. Throat raw. Hands shaking more than he wanted them to.

Neither of them said a word as they re-saddled their horses.

The snow climbed higher the deeper they went, folding quiet over their footsteps like the world was trying to erase them. The horses trailed behind, heads low, steam rising from their backs.

Joel thought they’d be sleeping under branches. Thought maybe this would be the night frost claimed them. But Ris raised a trembling hand and pointed.

“Cabin,” she rasped.

It was half-buried in drifts. Just a dark silhouette between two collapsed pines. Crooked, sagging—but standing.

Joel didn’t hesitate. He surged forward, kicked the door in hard enough to shake loose snow from the frame, rifle raised.

Empty.

Shelter.

They pulled the horses under the broken overhang, tied them off with fast fingers and silent prayers, then stumbled inside. Joel slammed the door shut behind her, dropped the bolt with a metallic clunk that echoed too loud.

The whole place creaked like it remembered being lived in.

The air inside was sharp with mildew and ash. But it was still air. Still walls. Still something.

Joel leaned against the door, letting himself feel the weight of breath. Ris stood near the warped window, her silhouette framed in shattered glass and dusk light. She was still watching the forest like it owed her something.

He turned to her.

“...Thanks,” he said.

His voice was rough. Gravel dragged over gravel.

Ris didn’t look up. Just yanked the scarf from her neck and flung it toward a chair that didn’t catch it.

“Don’t flatter yourself,” she said, wiping a streak of blood from her jaw with the back of her hand. “I just didn’t feel like dragging your corpse home.”

Joel didn’t answer. He couldn’t.

She shed her coat like it had betrayed her, hung it on a nail with too much force, then crouched beside the hearth. It was filled with ash and time. But there was wood. Enough to try.

Joel hovered behind her—not close. But close enough to feel the shape of her in the room. The weight of her presence. The pull of it.

He watched her hands. The way they moved—precise, practiced, trembling beneath it all.

A match struck. A flicker of gold in the dark. The fire cracked to life slow and stubborn. A reluctant glow.

They didn’t speak. They both stared at it. Not for warmth.

For something to look at that wasn’t each other.

The fire crackled, but it hadn’t cut the chill.

Ris peeled off the outermost layer of her shirt—bloodied, stiff with dried sweat and the violence of survival—and tossed it into a corner. Beneath it, a long-sleeved thermal clung damp to her skin. She crouched again, rolling up one sleeve with careful fingers to inspect the scrape that carved down her arm like a warning.

Across from her, Joel sat near the fire, his rifle laid across one knee. He was silent, jaw tight, reloading with the practiced ease of someone who had done it a thousand times over. The clink of metal and the quiet shift of firelight on his hands were the only sounds between them. But his eyes kept drifting.

To her. To the blood she hadn’t wiped away yet. To the memory of what she’d done.

She dabbed the wound with gauze, hissing softly through her teeth.

Joel reached into his pack and pulled out a flask. Held it out without a word.

She didn’t move.

“You want it or not?” he said flatly.

She took it. Unscrewed the cap. Sniffed.

Vodka. Harsh and cheap. The kind that burned all the way down.

She poured a splash onto the gauze and pressed it to the cut. Joel didn’t look away.

“Something on your mind?” she asked without looking up.

“Nope.”

“You’re staring.”

“You’re in my line of sight.”

She scoffed. “Must be exhausting, being this charming.”

He didn’t flinch. “Must be exhausting always looking for a fight.”

Her gaze flicked to his, one brow raised. “Funny. I’ve seen you shoot at fungus-heads with more warmth.”

There wasn’t a smile on his face, not really—but the corner of his mouth twitched, like it was remembering how.

She wrapped the cut quickly, efficiently. Her hands didn’t tremble.

Joel tossed another log onto the fire. Sparks lifted into the dark like memories trying to escape. He leaned back against the wall and let the quiet stretch. Shadows climbed the cabin walls like they had nowhere better to be.

Ris shifted, drew her knees to her chest, arms curled tight around them. She watched the flames, but felt his gaze again.

Still watching. Still studying her like she was something unsolvable.

She turned her head, caught him mid-glance.

His jaw flexed. He looked away too fast.

“See something you like?” she murmured.

“No,” Joel said. “Just trying to figure out what the hell you are, firefly.”

She blinked once, slow.

“Good luck with that.”

The fire burned lower. Its glow stretched over the warped wood floor, over the dust that danced like ash in the wind sneaking through cracks in the wall. The whole place felt like it was holding its breath.

Ris’s eyes were half-lidded, her body slumped just enough to say exhaustion had finally started to catch her.

Then Joel’s voice—cutting through the silence like a knife dulled by time.

“You ever think about how many people died because of you?”

She didn’t move. Didn’t even blink. But her voice was sharp enough to draw blood.

“Funny. I was just about to ask you the same thing.”

Joel leaned forward. Elbows on his knees, hands clasped like he was holding something in.

“You were one of them. Back then.”

Her eyes didn’t leave the fire. “And you were what—some kind of savior?”

He snorted. “No. I was honest about what I was.”

“No,” she said, finally turning to face him. “You were violent. You were selfish. You murdered everyone in that hospital to save one girl, and now you get to sit here and pretend your hands are cleaner than mine?”

His mouth tightened. “I didn’t pretend a damn thing.”

“You’re pretending right now,” she hissed, the words tearing loose. “Like I’m the monster. Like I strapped that girl down. Like I didn’t try to stop it.”

Joel stood. Slow. Like anger was something he didn’t let rise fast anymore.

“You were there.”

“I was thrown out before the surgery started.”

“But you were there,” he repeated, lower now. Like it was some kind of curse.

“I tried,” Ris snapped. “I screamed until my throat bled. They knocked me out. I wasn’t enough.”

He stepped closer. Ris rose to meet him.

Now they were standing—shoulders tense, breath sharp, the fire painting their shadows together across the wall like it couldn’t tell them apart.

“You think you’re the only one who’s buried people?” Her voice cracked on the edge. “I still hear mine screaming.”

Joel’s jaw clenched. “You think that makes you special, firefly?”

“I think it makes me haunted. Just like you.”

The silence that followed wasn’t empty. It was everything.

He stared at her. She stared right back.

And then, softer. Weaker.

“You don’t get to judge me. Not when you’re still trying to convince yourself that saving one life was worth taking two dozen.”

Joel flinched.

Didn’t argue. Didn’t lash out.

He just turned, walked to the far corner of the cabin, and sat—back to her, back to the fire, shoulders pulled tight like he was holding every scream inside.

Ris stayed standing for a full minute more, heart punching her ribs.

Then she dropped down beside the hearth again, closer to the embers than before, staring into the flame like it might explain any of it.

Neither of them spoke again.

But the air between them—hot and bitter and heavy—refused to settle.

—

The snow had stopped sometime in the night.

When Ris pushed open the cabin door, the air was sharp with frostbite and stillness. Pale light filtered through the trees like it was afraid to touch anything. She stepped outside and squinted eastward—gray horizon, brittle wind, silence.

Joel was already saddled.

He didn’t look at her when she joined him. Didn’t offer a word. Just jerked his chin toward the old fire road cutting through the pines.

They started the ride in silence again, the horses crunching through snow like glass underfoot.

The sun didn’t warm anything.

The horses moved slow, hooves crunching through the top crust of snow like it might shatter beneath them. Every breath she took stung. The sky above was paper gray. Nothing warm. Nothing alive.

The shed off Route 14 looked smaller than it had in her memory—like time had shrunk it. Or maybe guilt had grown her.

Corrugated siding sagged under the weight of years. The rusted fence lay in a heap, buried in drifts. The Firefly emblem—once proud, once painted in belief—was little more than a whisper now. A smudge beneath layers of soot and rot. A ghost pretending not to be.

She hadn’t known where they were going when she dragged them into the dark last night. Not really.

But now?

Now her feet felt full of stone.

The shed still looked like it had all those years ago. Before the collapse. Before the fire. Before the dead girl and the man who killed everyone to save her.

You were here, her mind whispered. Not this shed. But close.

Too close.

She pushed the thought down.

Joel dismounted and moved to the edge of the clearing, scanning with the scope of his rifle. "Ten minutes," he said. “Then we’re out.”

She nodded. Didn’t trust herself to speak.

Inside, the air was colder than it should’ve been—metallic, sterile in the way that made skin crawl. Like blood that had dried too clean. Like ghosts had scrubbed the walls with silence.

Rows of shelving loomed in crooked angles, each one groaning with the weight of time. Boxes collapsed under themselves. A clipboard leaned in the corner like it had been dropped in a hurry, half a lifetime ago.

But the supplies were there. Labeled. Sealed. Still waiting.

She moved automatically—like muscle memory was all that kept her upright.

Gloves, surgical (latex).Autoclave kit (damaged).Sutures, dissolvable.Morphine ampules.

Ris worked with mechanical efficiency, gloves creaking as she sorted through items, double-checked expiry dates, packed them into a worn duffel. But something in her movements frayed at the edges. Slower with each crate. More careful with each label.

Her hands slowed the moment she saw it.

A tray of surgical tools sat near the back—untouched. Stainless steel catching what little light the room offered. Scalpels. Field med kits. Bone saws dulled with age. Her hand hovered over the instruments, fingers twitching like they remembered every stitch, every incision, every promise broken beneath them.

Her fingers brushed the cold steel of a scalpel. The same kind she’d used to suture kids in the field. The same kind that had been meant for Ellie.

Her breath hitched. She blinked—too fast, too hard.

A memory broke through like a match to dry paper:

Marlene’s voice. You don’t need her name, Ris.

Anderson’s silence as she screamed. The way her own voice cracked when she asked, If it were Abby, would you do it?

She opened a metal cabinet and nearly recoiled. Cauterization tools. Rib spreaders. Skull clamps.

Her hand hovered over the tray. Not touching. Just remembering.

“Hold still,” her mother used to say. “You cut better when your hands aren’t afraid.”

The breath that left her lungs felt thin. She turned sharply, grabbing a pack of syringes just to feel something solid. The plastic crinkled in her grip like it might shatter.

That’s when she saw it.

A clipboard. Yellowed. Corners curled. The handwriting—slanted and precise. Anderson’s.

She didn’t need to read it.

Her vision blurred. She swiped at her face hard, the back of her coat sleeve scraping across her skin. Nothing fell. But her eyes were red. Her chest hollowed out.

Behind her, Joel shifted in the doorway.

She didn’t turn. But she felt him—like gravity. Like guilt.

He didn’t speak. Didn’t move closer. Just stood there, rifle cradled in the crook of his arm like he wasn’t sure whether to guard the door or the girl.

By the time they stepped back outside, the sun had lost its fight. The wind was meaner now. Sharper.

Neither of them said a word.

They rode home in silence—hooves sinking deep in snow that didn’t crunch anymore, just gave way like it had nothing left to resist.

Jackson emerged slowly from the dusk.

Warm windows. Thin curls of chimney smoke. Life, pretending nothing had changed.

Joel walked ahead.

Duffel over one shoulder, his gait steady. Ris trailed behind, boots dragging like she hadn’t noticed.

At the clinic, she handed off the supplies. The nurse smiled. Ris didn’t.

She didn’t wait for thanks.

She didn’t say goodbye.

By the time she made it back to her cabin, dusk had already folded itself into night. The door stuck. Her fingers fumbled the key.

Inside, everything smelled like wood smoke and something faintly floral. She didn’t stop to light the lamp. Didn’t take off her boots. Just leaned against the door until it latched behind her and stared at the dark for a while.

The ghosts were quieter here.

But they weren’t gone.

She slipped off her coat. Hung it. Toed off her boots. Her whole body felt too stiff, her mind too loud.

She needed a drink.

The Tipsy Bison breathed louder than usual that night.

Music pulsed low from the battered speakers above the mantle, just shy of off-key, like it remembered the melody but not the words. The hearth was roaring—amber flames licking soot-stained stone—casting gold across weathered floorboards and glassy, half-drunk eyes.

Laughter swelled. Boots scuffed. The scent of charred meat, pine-smoke, and old bourbon wove through the air like a memory that wouldn’t leave. It clung to Ris’s jacket as she stepped inside, already tugging off her gloves.

The heat hit first. Then the eyes.

Curious. Calculating. Some admiring, some unsure. One voice muttered something in the corner—something clipped and low—and another snorted like it was a joke at her expense. Ris didn’t bother looking.

She moved like she always did: with purpose. Like she had something to prove, but would rather die than admit it.

Joel was already there. Back turned. Shoulders hunched over a glass. He didn’t see her come in.

He was already at the bar, shoulders curved protectively over a glass—elbows braced, jaw set. One hand cradled the drink like it had secrets. His back was to her, but she would’ve known that shape anywhere. The way he leaned. The way he always faced the door, even when he pretended not to care who walked through it.

But she saw him.

A few younger guys—newer to Jackson, maybe—sat nearby, drinks in hand, laughter spilling too easy. One of them glanced up, did a double take.

“That’s her, right?” he asked, half-whisper.

“The Firefly doc?” his friend replied, leaning closer. “Yeah. Heard she stitched that Harper kid up so fast he didn’t even blink.”

“Pretty, too.”

Joel’s fingers tightened on the glass.

He took a slow sip, jaw ticking.

Then, almost to himself: “The Firefly doctor everyone’s fawning over? Figures.”

Ris’s voice cracked the air behind him—clean and cool as winter water.

“Don’t worry, old man,” she said, sidling up beside him at the bar, “I’m not looking to stitch you back together anytime soon.”

He froze. Didn’t turn right away.

Just angled his head—just enough to catch a glimpse of her in the edge of his vision. She looked like wind and wildfire. Hair wind-tossed, cheeks flushed, coat half-open like she was still shaking off the cold.

“You following me now?” he asked, low.

Ris raised two fingers to the bartender without looking at him. “Nope. I go where the bourbon is.”

She flashed him a dry, sideways grin.

“You’re just the unfortunate decoration.”

A shot slid across the bar. She caught it in one hand, knocked it back without flinching. The burn didn’t bother her. Not anymore.

Joel didn’t answer. Not with words.

But he looked. Really looked.

Like she’d walked in with smoke in her lungs and his name still clinging to her skin. Like he hadn’t slept in days and didn’t want to admit it. Like he’d spent the whole week pretending he wasn’t waiting for her.

The space between them vibrated with the kind of quiet that doesn’t mean silence. It meant heat.

It meant still here.

All around them, the bar hummed—boots stomping near the stove, laughter echoing off the beams, someone plucking chords on a guitar that had seen too many winters. But where they stood?

It was something else entirely.

A silence that watched itself.

Sharp. Taut. And burning.

#joel miller #the last of us #pedro pascal #tlou #tlou hbo #joel and ellie #the last of us hbo #joel miller x oc #joel miller x original character #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller fluff #joel miller smut #joel the last of us #ellie williams #tommy miller #joel miller series #joel miller angst #joel miller x reader #joel miller x female reader

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dragonpastels · 10 months ago

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Do you think maybe the dragon boys (especially Donnie) would like music? I have no idea what kind of music they'd have in those times, but I'm getting mushy over the idea of April humming or something and all of them like, what is that sound?

oop sorry for such the late response

but the dragon boys have heard music before! really only as hatchlings but April does have a music box that she plays for them

but out of all four of them the one who likes her music box the most is-

Music box and chin scratches is something Raph absolutely becomes a big ol' puppy for

and although Donnie isn't interested like Raph is it doesn't mean he isn't curious about it which will play a role later on ;]

|Masterpost|

#httyt asks #httyt au #rottmnt httyd au #rottmnt #rise of the tmnt #save rottmnt #mailbox

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the-amazing-animated-circus · 1 year ago

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I know that the Showtime here is already dead and buried... But may I have a Caine and/or pomni fun fact

Doesn't have to be romantic, again, theyre just my favorite characters >w> 💦

- @sm-baby

eeee hello Mushy! sshhhhh that's a secret, the people don't know how fucked that post is gonna be 🤫

Well, there is one thing she likes about him...

His dog.

Masterpost

#the amazing digital circus #toon au #toon talk #toon pomni #toon jax #toon ragatha #toon caine #toon bubble #First Draft

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hootbon · 1 year ago

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Do you have anywhere where all of your freak show pomni x Caine stuff is? My brain is going feral over animatic ideas and I need more LORE

I couldn’t find a whole lot specifically on the masterpost, and idk if SM-baby’s stuff is canon

Sadly, it’s not canon, it’s mushy indulging herself, if you want the showtime stuff it’ll probably be on her page and not mine

#the amazing digital circus #tadc #freakshow au #tadc freakshow #freakshow caine #freakshow pomni #freakshow showtime

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mushythewanderingbee · 8 months ago

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Masterpost!

About Me!

My name is Mushy!

Pronouns: They/Them

Fandoms: Welcome home, pressure, DHIMS, Hetalia, CH, Horror movies, and more (if curious please ask!)

Important things about me!

I am not the best at understanding so sometimes you have to spell things out for me as I am slow. And sometimes I don't explain something well enough so please tell me if you don't understand!

I really love people asking questions! Questions are encouraged as it helps me know which parts I am being confusing about so asking things helps clear things up that I may not realize need to be cleared up!

I am working on a few Projects! If you want to you can ask about them! my persona ref sheet-

Boundaries

I don't mind if you call me affectionate names like hun pookie stuff like that, as long as you don't mean it in an inappropriate way!

If you draw any of my characters PLEASE DO NOT draw them sexually or shipping them with oc's unless said I don't mind! I don't mind platonic ships but unless specifically stated please don't ship them!

Follow the rules on my damn blogs if I have them on the blog. I do not like the fact I have to add this. Which if rules aren't followed HALL OF SHAME YOU GOO

My discord servers

My blogs!

Rant

Hall of Shame links

#artists on tumblr #masterpost #mushy the bee

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the-oscar-isaac-collective · 4 months ago

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~ Zine Preview ~

Art by mutated.peterpan on instagram

This art was my (Mushi) introduction to mutated.peterpan and when I tell you it was an instant superspeed hit on the follow button I am not exaggerating. The 10 Lightningface fans will be sobbing when this drops.

Days Till Zine Release: 20

Back to Mod and Contributor Masterlist

Coffee & Cream Masterpost

The Oscar Isaac Collective Masterpost

#oscar isaac #basil stitt #coffee & cream fanzine #coffee & cream fanzine spotlights

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ramblingoak · 1 year ago

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Boxer Exchange

Mushy May in Lucifer's Hollow: Day 1 - Cuteness Aggression

Mountain x Rain

This fic is set in an alternate universe in a town called Lucifer's Hollow. For Mushy May I'll be using the prompts to post little snippets of life for the humans and ghouls that live there 💙 Thank you to @forlorn-crows for putting Mushy May together!

~ In Lucifer's Hollow Mountain has a little farm and sells flowers at the local farmer's market. Rain meets him there while selling his art. ~

Warnings: some suggestive things but otherwise just fluff! nsfw just in case, 18+ only/mdni, 400 words (thank you to @gothdaddyissues for the dividers!)

The chickens were the final straw.

Ok, not exactly the chickens themselves but the ghoul currently out there feeding the chickens. The earth ghoul that Rain had been daydreaming about relentlessly since he had first seen him at the farmer’s market. The ghoul that filled up an entire sketchbook at this point with another soon to be added to the pile. The one that Rain had maybe, possibly confessed his feelings to the night before.

But really, after sex like that what else was he supposed to do?

Looking back, Rain probably shouldn’t have tackled him in the chicken pen. There were feathers and…other things all over the ground. One of the hens, Princess Penelope if he remembered correctly, had already wandered over to pick through Mountain’s hair. The earth ghoul himself was peering up at Rain looking equal parts amused and confused.

“Uh, everything ok?”

“Yes. Yes, I’m fine.” Rain flicked an errant feather off Mountain’s chest, his eyes following it for a moment before he couldn’t help but look back at all the skin on display. Mountain quirked an eyebrow up, his big hands slowly sliding up Rain’s thighs and his tail wrapping around his waist. “This is your fault actually.”

“My fault? I’m just out here feeding my chickens.”

“Naked.”

“I have boxers on.”

“You have my boxers on. They’re barely covering anything!” Mountain only gave him a dirty smirk in reply, his fingers digging into the water ghoul’s ass. Rain had grabbed Mountain’s boxers before he came outside since his own had been missing from the bedroom floor. After looking out the window and seeing Mountain with his hair in a messy bun wearing just boxers and a pair of pink boots while he sweet talked his chickens well… “I will not apologize for my actions.”

“Duckweed, you can tackle me whenever you want.” Rain rolled his eyes at the nickname but before he could complain about it he found himself being manhandled as Mountain stood up. He ended up slung over Mountain’s shoulder which he definitely would have bitched about if it didn’t give him a great view of the earth ghoul’s ass. “We should shower and then have breakfast.”

“Is that all?”

Rain couldn’t help but shiver when Mountain chuckled.

“Oh don’t worry,” Mountain pinched his butt and Rain yelped, scaring the hens off that had wandered close. “We’ll do lots of stuff in between.”

If you'd like to be added/removed from the tag list (or if I accidentally left your name off) of this fic or any of my others please leave a comment or send me a dm! Thank you 💙

My Masterlist ~ My Archive of our Own ~ My Ko-Fi Tip Jar

More fics in the Tales From Lucifer's Hollow masterpost

#mountain x rain #mushy may 2024 #the band ghost fanfiction #ghost band fanfic #oakie's writing #nameless ghouls #tales from lucifer's hollow

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meowmeowmeowmeow4x · 1 year ago

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Dark Blue Moon and the Suffering Sun Chapter 10

MASTERPOST

I hope you enjoy reading <3 comment and reblog, it relaly helps!

Underneath the hot summer sun, Damian lay fat on Danny’s belly as the older boy lazily drifted underneath the water’s surface. Well, drifting was a strong word, as Damian estimated they were still going at about 20 miles an hour, but considering Danny’s top speed, it probably was like a peaceful drift.

The ocean water was crystal clear, all the way down to the shallow floor beneath them, as patterns shifted and ebbed with the movement of the waves. It was very much welcome change from the dark ravine they’d just evacuated.

They swam close enough to the surface that Damian could occasionally peek his eyes over the water. It was probably the first time he’d touched air since he woke up a changed being. It felt hot, quite hot in fact. Damian looked up to the sun, before quickly ducking back down as the harsh glare blinded his sensitive eyes.

“You’ll get used to it.” Danny had said. Damian resigned himself to idly batting away at the surface, watching the streaks and waves created by the speed of his hands pushing the water apart.

It was amusing. The peace helped to keep certain thoughts out of his mind for a little. But Damian was nothing if not decisive, and he would put the concerns that nipped at his fins to rest.

“I take back what I said. Earlier.” Damian muttered.

“Sorry, what?”

“About you being a poor excuse for a hero. All I have done is antagonize and belittle you, and yet you still choose to burden yourself with me.”

“Damian I feel like we’ve been over this.”

Damian crossed his arms. “No, that was for leading you into danger.”

“Well your forgiveness coupon extends to past grievances too this time.” Danny said, a ghost of a smirk gracing his translucent skin.

“You have shown a great heroic spirit. When I came to Amity Island, the reports of your character were confusing, and contradictory. Now that I have seen your actions with my own eyes, I can see the truth…”

“Aw, Damian…” Good grief, he was about to start getting mushy again. Damian had to stop this.

“You are just as much an obnoxious goody two shoes as my eldest brother.”

“You know? I’ll take it, backhanded compliment or no.”

Damian slapped his tailfin on Danny’s stomach. The older boy only laughed, that same obnoxiously contagious mirth that only Richard could produce. Damian lowered his head into his crossed arms, disguising any peeking grin with a pout.

Knock, knock, knock.

Bruce Wayne had made a note to visit Fentonworks sometime during their visit, but circumstances have moved that trip up his timeline. He took in the maddening contraption that was this building. There was no building code in the world that would allow this thing to stand. Above the brick and mortar, winding metal pipes lead into what appeared to be a huge radio tower complete with observation deck. Bruce could practically feel the stress those pipes had to take. It was so top heavy it was a miracle a stiff breeze hadn’t knocked the entire house down. He would definitely not want to be the poor sap who had to enforce building codes round here. Considering the Fenton’s penchant for shooting first, it would not be surprising if they had shot at them, likely yelling accusations of “collusion with the sirens!”

However, these people were his best lead, and he needed to follow it. For Damian’s sake, and for his.

The door swung open, revealing Maddeline Fenton in her signature jumpsuit, the hood pulled down and hair slightly disheveled. From the search, or out of worry for her wayward son?

It had been a good twenty-four hours since Damian had been dragged into the water by an unknown party. The moment Bruce noticed the beeping alerting that Damian’s tracker was going critical, he went into Batman mode right then and there, rushing to the scene of the crime. However, what he found instead was fourteen-year-old Daniel Fenton standing over the peer, a haunted look on his face.

Bruce had asked him if he was ok, before local authorities separated then and corralled them away from the scene, setting up tape and warning signs. Bruce verbally wrestled with them, demanding to let him see if his son was alright. However, as far as they knew, he was just a normal man, in no way equipped to dive into the depths and fist fight sea monsters.

It was at times like this that he cursed the need for secrecy.

Bruce didn’t see Daniel Fenton again. When he asked around, nobody had either.

Barred from joining the search physically, Bruce was given free access to the security footage in the area, searching in conjunction with other investigators, as per his insistence. While he recovered barely anything useful for Damian, it did show Daniel’s last appearance being around ten minutes after Bruce had found him. Daniel had slipped out of the crowd, last seen heading toward the cliff-face on the far side of town. Bruce sent off the info to the police and GiW as soon as he found out.

That lead him here. To console, but also to interrogate.

“Oh, Mr Wayne! We weren’t expecting you.”

She led Bruce into the living room, seemingly a very normal and domestic place, but a closer look revealed dozens of spare parts scattered around tables and desks and shoved to the side to make room for more unfinished inventions. The living room was adjacent to the kitchen, and Bruce could almost swear he saw glowing blue slime dripping out of it.

“Jack! We have a guest!” Maddeline called out, before inviting Bruce to sit down with some tea. “I’m terribly sorry, we weren’t expecting visitors. And I’m so sorry about your son. That close to shore, our preliminary bouy should’ve been able to detect the attack. We’re not sure what happened…” she trailed off.

All these facts Bruce knew well. He had been briefed on them in the early hours of the search, while there was still much hope to be hand.

“Actually, Dr Fenton, I was visiting to give my condolences about your own son. I know with all the talk about such a high-profile case, it’s easy for other cases to be swept under the rug, but that would be unfair for you.”

Madeline’s face warped not into sadness, or depression, but confusion. “Excuse me? Danny’s been staying at Tucker’s house at the weekend.”

Bruce opened his mouth to interrupt, but Madeline beat him to the punch. “Sorry, please give me a moment.”

She rushed over to an old landline hanging by the wall next to a pair of precariously placed prototypes for some kind of futuristic gun. Rapidly punching in what he recognized was the Foley house’s number, Madeline yanked the phone out of its receiver.

“Angela? Angela, is Danny there, I need to speak to him… What?!” Madeline’s face twisted into shock. Her left hand cradelling the landline, her right hand stroking her hair repteadly. “Danny told me he’d be staying at your house. Yes, yes. Please do so. Thank you Angela. I’ll call Pamela now.”

She hung up. Another rapidly inputted number later, and a second call went through. “Pamela, I’ve been told that Danny’s been staying with Sam. Is he there? I urgently need to speak to him.”

This time, the response was very audible. Bruce could hear a raised, ranting voice, a far cry from the sickly sweet dulcet tones ‘Brucie’ Wayne had been subjected to the night before. “Pamela I need you to listen to me. Danny told me that he’d be staying with Angela. Angela told me that Tucker told her that they’d be in your house. And now you’re saying Sam’s taken them all to a camping trip on the mountain? Yes… yes. I know.”

Just at that moment, Jack Fenton, barreled into the room, emerging from a set of stairs leading into the kitchen, a tray of chocolate fudge cookies steaming in his gloved hands.

“Brucie Wayne!” The man put down the tray of cookies and rushed over to Bruce, where Bruce’s hands were almost crushed by the vigorous handshake the man gave him.

“Listen, Brucie,” Jack Fenton’s voice lowered. “I really wanted to say we’re sorry abou-“

Before Jack could finish what he was saying, Madeline grabbed him by the collar. “We have to go, Jack! To the SAV!”

Bruce stood up. “I’m coming with you.”

That might have been a mistake. Jack Fenton grabbed his hand again with that bone crushing grip and pulled him outside. Madeline pressed a button on a remote, revealing a garage housing the scientific marvel and engineering horror of the Fentons’ hand-crafted and customised tank of a… duck boat.

The exterior was sleek white with silver lines, with reinforced tires on the bottom and a hull wide enough to float on water. The top sported a radar dish, and Bruce identified several seams all across the boat, likely where some of the numerous weapons the Fentons made were hiding.

Of course, Bruce had seen this thing in action before, and the only thing worse than Jack’s sailing was his driving.

“Come on Brucie, we can talk more on the way!”

Meanwhile, in the middle of the ocean…

“It is pitiful how much Richard adores that, that Jaws film.” Damian’s disgust is palpable in his low glare, a disgust mirrored by Danny’s own gag.

“Dude, no way. I hate that fuckin’ movie so goddamn much. Imagine making a movie where tiny puppies start mauling people to death for no reason!”

Damian nodded, sagely. “It is anti-shark propaganda in the finest, and its disavowal by its direct is incredibly telling.”

“I think the Dolphin Mafia were behind it.” Damian considered this thought. How he would love for that to be true, so he could sink his teeth into some dolphin flesh in revenge for what they did to him and to shark reputations worldwide. “Like dude! Sharks are the cuddliest fish on the planet! They don’t even fight sirens, let alone humans. Pretty sure sea urchins cause more injuries. Hell I think the siren attack numbers are about to overshoot them.”

“If the Dolphin Mafia do exist, I will make it my mission to hunt them down, and devour them all.” Damian said with fatal finality.

A beat passed. Danny blinked. “Dude, aren’t you a vegetarian?”

“… Perhaps.”

“Isn’t it like, a moral thing for you? Don’t tell me the siren instincts are messing up your brain chemistry. I literally wouldn’t know how to explain that to Bruce and I’m already fearing for my life.”

“I am of my right mind. It is just that I intend to slay them regardless, so why let their flesh go to waste?”

“You know stuff doesn’t go to waste in the ocean? Like, if you don’t eat it, there’s a million other tiny organisms waiting in line for you. That’s how the freaking ecosystem works.”

Damian considered these words. While yes, it was a relief that killing the Dolphin Mafia (if they did exist) would not necessitate their consumption to prevent wastage, it was oh so tempting to dominate them in the traditional fashion of supreme ocean animals…

“It is worth considering. I will ponder my decision at a later date.”

“I’ll pretend that isn’t utterly scary.”

Damian’s thoughts turned to another pod of dolphins… “That being said, I should like to relieve Skulker of his hunting dolphins.”

“You mean hunting… doglphins?” Danny said with another infuriating grin. Damian went to bad it away, only to get stopped by the older boy holding him back with a finger.

“Let me finish my point! If you intend to continue making inane puns, this journey will be difficult.”

Danny laughed.

“I am serious!”

Danny laughed again, provoking Damian to launch himself at the older boy’s face with a snarl. The boys tumbled and tussled through the water as they play fought…

Bruce was beginning to get nauseous.

His pleas for safer driving went largely ignored. “Sorry Bruce it’s an emergency!” Which left him to helplessly cling to his seat for dear life as Jack pulled sharp turns at top speed, and barrelled through barricades.

The SAV’s alarm sirens (how ironic) blared at full volume as Madeline’s voice blasted through a megaphone. “This is a siren emergency! Please be on the lookout for Sam Manson, Tucker Foley and our baby sweetkins Danny Fenton! HOLD ON TIGHT BABY BOY, WE’RE COMING FOR YOU!”

Scanning the streets for the teens while praying for God for safety from a civilian’s driving was not on his agenda today.

“You doing ok back there, Mr Wayne?” Madeline asked. Bruce grimly nodded.

Jack Fenton swerved through a roundabout, heading for the mountain.

If Bruce’s intuition on teenagers was worth anything (and it had to be worth anything, considering the years he spent wrangling some of the craftiest, most rebellious teenagers on the planet), those kids were definitely hiding something. He just had to find out…

#dpxdc #danny fenton #merman #damian wayne #dcxdp #merboy #mermaid au #less angst #fluff #jaws is propaganda #jack fenton #bruce wayne #maddie fenton

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mysticwolfshadows · 8 months ago

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Taken - Zutara - Part 44

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After Sokka and Aang leave, Toph goes off to see her mother, leaving Katara and Zuko alone. The meetings with the generals won't start until later that afternoon, so they go together to investigate the tile. A flier for a tea shop combined with a Pai Sho tile? It had to be Iroh.

"It's been months since you saw Uncle," Katara mused, the back of her hand brushing against his as they walked. "What are you going to say to him?"

"I don't know," Zuko replied, throat tight.

His Uncle knew he hadn't died during the Northern Seige, but Zuko didn't know what had happened since then. The last he saw, his uncle was leading the armada back to the Fire Nation, and now... What would he be doing in Ba Sing Se? How was he in Ba Sing Se?

When they reached the tea shop, a waitress sat them at a table. Zuko couldn't bring himself to ask after Iroh, unsure of what to say, so they sat and had tea and snacks for a while. When they were finished, and Zuko still hadn't said anything, she reached out to grab his hand, and smiled to the waitress.

"We were wondering," Katara said, slowly. "Well, we think his uncle may have been here. Older man, long white hair and beard. A bit on the larger side?"

The waitress blinks. "Oh, you mean Mushi? He makes the tea. I'll go get him."

Zuko's shoulders sagged with disappointment as the waitress vanished. Mushi. That wasn't Iroh. But Katara squeezed his hand, optimistic, and couldn't help but beam when the kitchen door opened to reveal the man himself.

She watched as Zuko was pulled into a tight embrace, the two holding on so tight she was shocked that nothing broke. They exchanged quiet words, before pulling apart. Then it was Katara's turn.

"It is good to see you both," Iroh chuckled. "I was not sure if my message would reach you, but I'm so glad it did."

"It's good to see you, Uncle," Katara said. "How are you? Where have you been?"

Iroh smiled, telling his boss that he would be stepping out for a while. The man let him, and they followed Iroh to a little apartment above the shop.

He told them about what had happened since he commanded the Armada's retreat. When Zhao had tried to hill Zuko, the mad admiral had immediately sent word to the Fire Palace that Zuko was dead. It worked in his favor, making the retreat expected after what had happened with the 600 Day Seige years ago. Iroh had sent the ships back to where they were meant to be, and returned with the Wani to the Fire Nation. Ozai had been displeased to hear about Iroh's intervention, but hadn't been surprised. Hearing that Zuko was 'dead', Ozai had sent a missive to Azula, who had already left for the Earth Kingdom by the time he returned.

Iroh had been in the Fire Nation for a week, before an assassin tried to kill him. He escaped, and was branded a traitor, blamed for Zuko's 'death'. Using contacts he had made through his travels, Iroh had made a false identity, going to Ba Sing Se where he had hoped to reunite with Zuko when the Avatar came through.

"We could really use you, Uncle," Zuko said. "Your expertise, your guidance... We're planning an invasion. An eclipse is coming, in four months."

Stoking his beard, Iroh nodded slowly. "Yes... It would be best to remove my brother from the throne before the comet. But there is the matter of Azula."

Zuko closes his eyes, tense. Katara reaches out to put a hand on his and he immediately relaxes.

"I can handle Azula." He glanced at Katara, who smiled. "We can handle her."

Iroh nodded, looking rather pleased. "I will do what I can to assist in the invasion. It will be up to you to be ready to take the throne as soon as Ozai is defeated.

"You... You won't become Fire Lord?"

The man chuckled. "No, Prince Zuko. Someone new must take the throne. Someone with unquestionable honor, and a good heart. Only you can restore honor to the Fire Nation." He paused, a wide grin spreading on his face. "But I can see that you will not be doing so alone."

The two teens glance down at their joined hands, and quickly grow bright red. Katara pulls away, putting her hands in her lap as her vision in the swamp came to mind. An older Zuko, offering her a choice, one she can make at any time, that he would accept.

Zuko cleared his throat. "We... should be going. We have a meeting. With the Generals. About... About the Invasion."

Nodding, Iroh smiled and led them out. He'd making a few arrangements, and get back to them. For now, they would have to meet with the generals without him, and come see him again another day. Perhaps early tomorrow, and Iroh could prepare them breakfast.

As they walked back to the upper ring, shoulder to shoulder, the back of Zuko's hand brushed hers. Knowing that Zuko, as anxious and uncertain as he could be, wouldn't be the first to take a step, Katara steeled her resolve. Turning her wrist, she let their fingers slowly slot together. And when, after a moment, Zuko's fingers curled with hers, she smiled.

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#fanfic #fanfic idea #atla #avatar the last airbender #zutara #katara #zuko #wip #Taken AU

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