morticiansassistant

[morticiansassistant]

one of my wips (evil) is just titled "bruce coffin shopping angst" and well. you can kind of guess what's happening there lmao

[morticiansassistant]

the two wips im actively working on are both kinda domestic fluff type things and they've been so fun to write but one has like. a little more tension (?) in it then i originally planned for but that's the way it's naturally going so i guess

[morticiansassistant]

excerpt from a piece i'm writing about jaybin that fits into The Lore me and sans have talked about for rp canon n such

He flits around, to and fro, just like the little bird he shares a name with (as she meets more of the birds in the Bat’s flock, she understands how fitting it is to call them that, all of them share that same surging energy reminiscent of their namesake about to take flight). From his place just behind his mentor, he’s making faces and mimicking his actions in time with whatever rant he’s aiming in her direction this time; the Bat fixes her with a stern expression, the little bird mirrors it, fighting back a grin and wagging a finger at her, the perfect caricature of a parent scolding a child. He’s making it difficult to pretend she cares about whatever Batman is saying to her (not that she would be making much of an attempt anyways, even if he wasn’t there).

[morticiansassistant]

sneak peak at an in progress fic ft. jason todd and helena bertinelli (PLATONIC!)

"He was just a kid," when he says this, it takes everything in her not to point out that he must’ve been a kid too; she knows how old the boy in front of her is, just like she knows how old his younger brother is. He might not be a child anymore, but it was not a far off thing—if she lets herself think about it for too long panic grips her heart and squeezes, it was one thing to see how young the Bat's flock looked and another thing altogether to be confronted with it.

Robin, forever fifteen and stuck in a loop of broken bleeding dying. Huntress, grabbing his forearm and pulling him back from the edge; it says something about how wrapped up he is in his self-made destruction that he doesn’t fight against her, doesn't even try to stop her. Only just manages to catch himself before he falls flat on his face with the momentum.

"Red!" Her grip is tight on his forearms, it would hurt if it wasn’t for the thickness of his sleeves, and he can't help but wish he'd forgone the jacket tonight. He deserved to hurt. He deserved to be hurt by her, he was asking for it (he always seemed to be asking for it, he always seemed to deserve it). She could hurt him in a way his family wouldn’t – couldn’t – do and he thinks he wants that.

He thinks he's asking for it.

What he doesn't hear is the tinge of worry in Huntress' voice—it’s more Helena then, when she lets slip the care she has for him. The Huntress is her wrought-iron mask, her strength personified, but it is not the mask that recognizes the pain in his voice, it is not the mask that resonates with it. It's Helena; she hears the guilt for the things he didn't do and it echoes back to her, catching somewhere in the spaces between her family's cries for blood.

[morticiansassistant]

TAKE A BULLET FOR ME, MAYBE THEN I'LL BELIEVE !!!

writing blog for @house-on-sand | fic ideas, updates, drabbles, and sneak peaks.

levi[ticus] | 23 | he + him & er + ero & it + its | horror enthusiast

mostly original, nonfandom work with the occasional fandom piece. at the moment it will mostly be for dc comics, with a focus on the batfam because i'm a little basic.