#add a little generational curse in there some hauntings maybe

[themidnightcircusshow]

You make one joke and suddenly you can't stop thinking of a gothic retelling of the Lancasters

[britcision]

So I made it 4 years without being struck down by AO3 Author Curse! But here we are. I’ll spare y’all the details but let’s just say “fuck this year” and leave it there. We’ve had the requisite Third Bad Thing and I will burn the universe down if it goes for a fourth

What this means for y’all, of course, is that there’s been a long ass break between last chapter and this one! Aaaaand this one is being broken in half because it is Longer Than Tumblr Allows

(And they’ve lessened how many paragraph breaks you get cuz this one is only about 9.5k and it made me add it in thirds, woe is me)

So, as usual, links to the first chapter, last chapter, and the link to the AO3 version is I think in BOTH, so if you can’t find it from there I can’t help you 😁

First Chapter:

Last Chapter:

And just a little recap where last we left off:

Bruce has gone to the Watchtower to debrief the Justice League about Amity Park and the Anti Ecto Acts, and been told that Jason has left the land of the living! But like, on purpose

Jason and Danny have gone to visit Frostbite and learned that they are ghost-bonded, which you should take seriously like being ghost-married, and that Jason is gonna pop out Pitty in a couple more days/weeks and have to emotionally raise a ghost-baby

Tucker, Tim, and Conner are all playing video games and hiding out from the Amity Parker/Bat Chat for Tim and Tucker’s mutual stalking ways, which Sam blew wide open by sharing Timblr, as punishment for Tucker not telling her they were all alive

(Danny’s off the hook cuz Tucker was haunting his phone with soundtracks for half the day)

And Damian’s off being Sketchy And Mysterious

————————

Well You Did Get Down On One Knee (part 1)

The evening was beginning to draw in, the sun getting low over Gotham city. Between her patrol the night before, helping Signal out with a case, and then that brief group heart attack about Jason, it had already been a really long day.

Spoiler cracked her neck a couple times and sighed, then sunk into the shadow behind a gargoyle.

It was smaller than usual… and occupied. Robin glowered up at her, leaping up to sit on the gargoyle’s head instead. He looked for all the world like he wanted to hiss at her like a cranky cat, which diffused all of Spoiler’s tension (but would only make his worse if she mentioned it. Maybe tomorrow).

Sighing philosophically she settled back against the base of the gargoyle, tipping her head back to see him.

“Hey… what are you doing out so early? Usually you lot wait until sundown to swing from the shadows,” she pointed out (rather fairly, she thought). Totally ignoring that she was 1000% usually one of “you lot”.

Robin just scowled disdainfully down at her, then twisted his head away to glare at the city instead.

“As if I needed any more reason to be out than you do,” he sniffed archly.

Spoiler grinned, puffing herself up. She did have an answer for this one, and, being generous or not, winding Robin up was always a treat.

“Hey, I was actually requested today. Signal needed a second pair of eyes on the back door of a bust. Didn’t see you there,” she added innocently, a brow rising.

It was technically possible that Robin could have suited up and left the manor in between Bruce’s message and Tim’s response. Spoiler wouldn’t put money on it though.

He’d have had to be on his way down already, and while they could all change quickly, there were no rushed or sloppy patches to her experienced eye.

His hair was even neatly slicked back into the traditional Robin spikes, one every Robin but her and Duke had used during their time as the baby bird.

Nah, he’d not rushed out in a panic, even if he was still more tense than he should have been. Every line of the kid was tight with… Spoiler cocked her head thoughtfully.

Frustration?

Definitely not unusual, Damian didn’t have Dick’s temper but he’d spent pretty much all of his first few years in Gotham unbearably frustrated with them all. It had just been a while since she’d seen it so… visibly.

And for all Steph was a gleeful little shit and loved poking at trouble, she wasn’t cruel. There was no point in pushing Robin if he was already on edge.

So she shrugged nonchalantly and looked forward instead, reaching back over her head to pat him gently on the foot. He didn’t dodge, which only cemented her decision.

“‘Course, no rule against taking a daylight run if you’re in the mood. See anything interesting?” She asked innocently.

Kid wouldn’t admit it if he had been worrying.

Silence reigned for another long moment, and then Robin huffed and dropped down to the rooftop beside her, folding himself back into the sharper shadow the waning daylight provided.

“No.” Short and sweet, unlike the kid himself.

But he also hadn’t left, and Spoiler was gonna call that a win.

“Will you be out tonight too?” She asked instead of pushing, reminding herself yet again; he’d open up in his own time.

Hypothetically.

Robin made a soft, disgusted noise, glowering at the smog filled sky. Probably even in the right direction for the Watchtower.

“I intend to be. Someone must keep an eye on things,” he grumbled, and Spoiler made an effort not to take it personally.

B had been majorly distracted with all this Amity Park business, not even breathing down their necks about the usual nightly reports. The rogues hadn’t exactly noticed yet, but the goons had.

The big Bat himself not making an appearance for a couple of nights usually attracted some comment, and an up-til-now entirely Bat-free new year?

The guys she’d helped Signal grab today had been muttering about it right until they ran into her arms. Fists.

They’d mentioned not seeing Stabby Robin either though.

Which she might as well also mention.

“Weren’t you out last night too? I saw your gear missing when I dropped by at the end of the night,” she added when he tensed again, hands wedged in her utility belt. “Didn’t hear you on comms though.”

And that was more than just rude; it was bad protocol, and Robin, for all his other faults, respected the strictness of protocol. Not being chatty was one thing, but if you were out on the town you had to call in.

He stayed silent, not looking at her. Spoiler decided he could use just a little nudge. Totally not because she was getting impatient. And nosy.

“Y’know unless you went out tech free I can just ask Oracle,” she pointed out gently, giving his shoulder a gentle bump.

It got him to glower up at her anyway.

“I was not on patrol,” he grumbled, whites of his mask narrowed before returning his glare to the city at large, “like I am not today.”

When he didn’t elaborate, Spoiler flipped a mental coin. Figured why not; they were already doing well.

Kid must be on the verge of having to, dread the thought, ask for help.

“And what would you be doing out and about if not patrolling…” she began, then stopped when a piece clicked suddenly into place.

Robin, Damian, was about as social as a feral cat. And about as friendly with anyone who got close to those he considered his.

Right now, Danny Fenton and his friends had more than half the family utterly wound up. All except Bruce in a good way, Spoiler was the first to admit, but Robin wouldn’t see it like that.

The only trick was, how to word the question.

Spoiler liked blunt. It made her stand out from the bats, who all played way too much mental and emotional chicken to be healthy. She’d always been more of a bird that way.

“Wouldn’t have anything to do with Hood’s little disappearance today, would it?” She asked instead, grinning broadly when Robin twitched.

Hit the nail on the head.

From the scowl he shot her he knew it too, and looked away quickly enough that he knew there was no taking it back. He folded his arms across his chest and sulked and fuck he was just adorable.

She’d bet anything Dick used to pout exactly like that.

Still, she tempered the grin down to a slight smile. Dropped a hand on his shoulder, squeezing gently and letting go when he pulled away.

“Worried me too. Were you close enough to see anything?” Because yeah, if Robin was already at least on his way into uniform before the message arrived?

Spoiler would put easy, easy money on him having been already tailing Jason and Danny around. Last night too, probably. She and Cass had left early to take the night shift, leaving Tim and Damian with the Amity Parkers.

Damian had one hell of a dose of his father’s paranoia, and Steph considered it a solemn duty to teach him about personal boundaries to keep him from turning out just like the old bat.

Just a little friendly stalking from the rooftops didn’t really count though. Not between family.

Robin had tensed right up again too, but when she didn’t push the contact or needle at him he slowly relaxed back down. Scowled at her feet instead of his own.

“No,” he admitted bitterly, both at definitely having been busted and probably at having nothing to report, “Todd… Hood spoke to the magician. They argued, he went back inside Freeze’s place and did not reappear when his tracker went through the roof and into the sky.”

Spoiler blinked, mildly surprised.

“Hood was wearing a tracker? Didn’t think he was in the mood.”

“He wasn’t,” Robin corrected with a derisive sniff.

And… yeah, they were gonna have to do a little more work on that whole “boundaries” thing. Although the odds of Hood not noticing that he’d been tagged were lower than Robin probably thought. Keeping a tag on him that he didn’t want there?

Nah. She may not exactly trust Jason, but that was how she knew how good he was at finding and disabling rogue trackers. And sure, Damian was better than her at some things, but if Cass couldn’t sneak a tracker onto Red Hood no one could.

Kinda cute that Jason let the little guy think he’d successfully bugged him.

At least the constant mild stalking was just standard for the family.

Shaking her head, she gave him a gentle nudge with her elbow.

“That’s rough. Flying’s cheating,” she commiserated with a sly look to the sky.

She’d heard a super cross Oracle’s radar. Conner, almost certainly if Robin was still out alone.

Too bad he’d not thought to call his own Superboy, though taking flight himself wouldn’t have helped if dimensional travel followed.

Robin made another disgusted little tut, then pushed off the gargoyle and stormed away. Spoiler watched him go for a moment, then shrugged.

“Hey, go get some sleep if you’re coming back out tonight,” she called after him. Grinned when he flipped her off without turning.

If he’d been off stalking Jason and Danny two days in a row, he’d need some rest.

“And don’t forget your report,” she teased and actually laughed when he raised his other hand to flip her off with both before leaping off the edge of the roof, swinging back towards the bat cave.

Stephanie Brown had never been prouder in her life than the first day Damian had said “fuck” in front of his dad. Far be it from her to demand anyone transform into a social butterfly, but she personally was pretty damn sure that nothing was gonna help Damian out of his “raised by assassins” shell than learning some good old fashioned swearwords.

And a little teenaged rebellion. The proudest day was totally gonna be when he finally told his grandfather to fuck off (or any suitable equivalent; Steph wasn’t choosy).

Leaning back into the gargoyle’s shadow, Spoiler surveyed the city below. Technically, she’d been out as long as Damian had; if she wanted to be out tonight she’d need a quick nap too.

Or, more fun, she could nip back to the manor, kidnap Cass, and they could find and bully Tim and Tucker in person. Yeah, that was gonna be it.

**

Jason was feeling good, really. Actually a little surprised at how good, considering.

That crunchy little ecto-ice chip had been better than a gallon of coffee, filling him with energy like he’d actually gotten a full night’s sleep. (Not that he knew much about how that actually felt, at least not when not recovering from serious injury.)

He hadn’t actually felt this good since the night Danny slept over, which had been the night before last. Didn’t sound all that impressive, except that it had been the best he’d felt in half a decade.

Maybe the full decade. For all Robin made him magic, skipping sleep to fight crime had done a number on him in his teens. If he’d been as willing as Dickie and Tim to slack on his schoolwork, maybe…

Yeah, no, Tim was the poster child for Do Not Emulate This Sleep Schedule.

What mattered was that even after running the docks down with Black Bat for more than half the night and then getting up to get Danny, Jason felt fucking great.

Even after three separate courses of Bruce’s bullshit, both directly and through the medium of John fucking Constantine. Not so long ago, Bruce would never even dare call him, much less try and set up a bat cave ambush. That… was probably technically a good sign?

Didn’t feel like one at the moment, but Jason actually felt almost good enough to be charitable with the old bat. A little emotionally wrung out, sure, but he felt lighter for… having whatever that had been. Like the stress that had been compacting his chest had finally eased.

Jason was self aware enough to admit he’d probably had more than one breakdown owed to him. Maybe not a “take to the bed”, “trip to the sea” full Victorian lady meltdown, but he’d had a whole baby dropped on him. Except somehow worse.

He damn well deserved that freak out, and now that it was over and he’d been given what kinda felt like the ghost equivalent of speed… He felt like his brain was finally working again.

Which… meant he was fully processing that his fucking soul was vibrating in time with Danny’s. And every other ghost could just. Tell.

That was gonna make fight club… actually, Jason had no idea what the fuck it was gonna make fight club. By all accounts Danny being the Ghost King hadn’t made any of them less likely to throw down with him.

If anything, Danny had warned Jason that him being a “young” ghost would make the others more eager to fight. It was a kind of play, bonding and teaching the new baby their powers.

Sounded fucking terrifying by all accounts and Jason was just glad he had Danny to explain it to him, since apparently full ghosts just… knew it wasn’t serious. Even baby ghosts came into existence recognising the game.

Halfas didn’t.

Whiiiich meant that all the “playful” threats of dismemberment had sounded pretty fucking real to Danny, back when he’d been a baby ghost and had half the Zone flocking to “play” with him.

Pitty let out a rumbly little growl, like a sulking dog and Jason hid a snicker. Yeah, he’d also be kicking their asses that little bit harder for that given half a chance.

Actually, if they kept holding fight club, Pitty could take a chunk out of them itself.

That thought got him a contented little purr, which was weird enough that Jason was going to focus back in on Frostbite’s broader explanation. Which… he should have been doing anyway. At least this part wasn’t solely for his benefit though.

“In the sense that you have tied yourselves together, it may be somewhat like a marriage… however, it is a very different relationship. In a true love-union, your signatures would beat in time,” the yeti explained, gesturing once more to the screen.

Jason’s blob continued to pulse and blur a fraction of a beat behind Danny’s. Definitely not quite in time.

This was a relief. Yup. And Jason’s cheeks definitely weren’t any warmer than they’d been a minute ago, before he knew that, again, his fucking soul was echoing Danny’s.

Frostbite gave his tablet a couple more taps, and a pulsing blue line linked the images on the screen.

“In your case, young knight, your allegiance is marked in both your resonance and in your aura, which now carries a link to your King. In this way, even if the Great One is not beside you, all ghosts will know that you are the chosen protector of their King. His status is what defines your role as a knight, instead of a more casual bond.”

“No one’s king yet,” Danny protested, folding his arms and leaning into Jason’s side. Letting a little more of his weight rest on him.

Jason leaned in too, frowning from the screen to Frostbite.

“And all the other ghosts can just… see this?” He asked, not really sure what he was hoping to be told.

Frostbite switched from giving Danny a fond smile back to Jason, nodding brightly.

“Oh yes. Ectoplasm is very easily influenced by emotion, and bonds can form quite quickly. I presume you took an oath?” He asked, eyes sparkling in a way that made Jason pretty damn sure he’d met Clockwork.

Which, now that he thought about it…

Jason huffed out another deep breath, running a hand through his hair. As much as John Fucking Constantine specifically could ride a cactus straight to Hell… the guy mighta had the faintest inkling of a point about one thing.

“Yeah… about that.” He pulled a face, gaze tracking away from the others and down to the floor.

Would they think he was a dumbass too? Danny had been there when Clockwork made the offer and he’d been pretty against it, but Jason had thought he understood why.

It hadn’t sounded anything like Constantine’s claims of what he’d signed up for.

In the end, it was easier to address the question to Frostbite’s large hairy toes.

“I, uh… I made an oath to Clockwork, but do I have… a contract or something? The asshole magician I mentioned earlier was going on and on about eternal fucking servitude bullshit but it’d be nice to have something to shove in his face,” he added quickly, arm slipping back and almost around Danny (but with his hand still firmly on the table).

He didn’t need to wait to feel the guilt in Danny’s aura to head it off.

Jason wasn’t having second thoughts. He wasn’t sorry for what he’d signed up for, and when it came right down to it…

He didn’t think people could lie through their auras. Even when he was trying to project something like “I’m fine” and he wasn’t, he was pretty sure Danny could tell.

He could sure as hell tell when Danny was bluffing through his, which had happened maybe once total.

He trusted Danny. He trusted Frostbite. He even mostly trusted Clockwork, because for all the guy had been a little sketchy, Jason had felt his sincerity. How deeply he cared for Danny.

Keeping Danny safe forever didn’t sound like eternal servitude. Eternal babysitting, maybe, if Danny was being a pain in the ass, but he’d never top Damian at his most bratty.

Jason woulda been trying to protect Danny anyway. As far as he knew, knighthood just made that easier.

Which was another reason he’d like a look at his contract. You didn’t make it onto the streets as Robin without learning to read for loopholes, hidden clauses, and fine print. He may have already signed on the dotted line, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t find some wiggle room.

Danny, about to say something either apologetic or self deprecating, huffed out a breath as Jason’s arm slipped around him. Winded up giving him a half smile instead.

“Yeah… that’s a good point. I still need to find out if I can fire your ass.”

“Still didn’t hire me,” Jason pointed out archly, bumping his arm to knock Danny forwards a little.

The other halfa huffed a laugh this time and bumped him back.

“Yeah, and I gotta work out how to hire you so I can then immediately fire you,” he shot back.

Frostbite cut them both off with a raised hand, though he still looked fondly amused. Like they were cute little kids or something stupid.

“You will have to discuss this with Clockwork directly, young knight, but I do not believe a knighthood typically comes with a contract. It is a duty one is granted, and one that may be rescinded if you fail, but it is not a deal,” he explained patiently.

Jason’s brows furrowed a little, but at least he could feel Danny’s confusion-puzzled-not sure beside him too. He wasn’t the only one who wasn’t quite sure what that meant.

Maybe he shoulda looked a little more into magic shit while he was with the League of Assassins. That would have been the time, especially if the Lazarus Pits were the just grunged ectoplasm.

“It kinda sounded like a deal when he offered it,” he said almost as a question, glancing back at Danny for confirmation.

Danny nodded. So it wasn’t just Jason.

“He gave me a cool magic gun in exchange for keeping Danny hale and hearty. Protecting him in the living and Infinite realms,” Jason added in case the wording counted, more sure as he remembered some of the reasons.

Fuck, had that only been a week ago? It felt like it’d been a whole year.

Frostbite gave them a neutral shrug, inclining his head.

“As I said, you will need to ask Clockwork directly. All I can tell you is that it is not innate to the position; a knighthood is not usually something bought and sold,” he explained patiently.

Danny hummed an agreement, cheek resting on Jason’s shoulder again.

“It’s normally all ghost-to-ghost too, so is there a way we can check if the halfa thing has changed it?” He asked Frostbite, leaning against the table too and totally not actually putting his arm around Jason back.

Jason felt a little more tension leech back out of him. Which raised another good point, actually.

“And not related or anything, but if you gave me a buncha those ice crystals could I just chew them to get the ecto for…” he hesitated, waving his free hand at his general chest area again.

Honestly, given half a chance he’d love to get a bowl full and try and pop the pit out in one go… it’d probably be easier to train from outside his body where it wouldn’t immediately know he was so full of shit… his own aura notwithstanding.

Yeah, he was still a little worried about being anyone’s emotional guide, but if he could just get the damn thing out in the world… maybe it could have other guides too.

“To answer the simpler question first, young knight, unfortunately the energized ectoplasm is only a short term boost and will not affect either of your cores. I will provide you with a small supply to assist your emotional control whilst you stabilize, if you wish?” Frostbite offered gently, a slight smile on his face.

Jason hesitated, considering things for a moment, then nodded. Sure, it wasn’t a solid “yes here is the answer to all your problems Jason just smack it in”, but it was a concrete solution to what had actually been worrying him.

Having another one of those weird “episodes”. He’d still be waiting to get Pitty all the way out, but at least he had a backup plan until then. He could pop an ecto-crystal each morning, get some energy, and worry less about night patrols.

Shit, he’d have more energy than he’d had since he died. The others were gonna be jealous as hell, but it wasn’t like they could steal and take his ghost meds. Probably.

Jason… wasn’t quite ready to think about the panic attack itself. He felt fine now, way better, and it wasn’t like it was the first he’d had.

Just…

Just the first that he remembered. That his heart started racing, his head rushing, ears filled with rushing static and the world hadn’t just melted into a green haze of blood and violence.

His early training with the League of Assassins had involved a lot of losing himself to the Pit. He’d wake up days later, body aching with exertions he couldn’t remember, and be told how many he’d killed.

Good news: no fear of that either, apparently. Pitty wasn’t pulling for control anymore, so the green haze was all Jason’s own.

Joy.

He had a nasty feeling that Danny would notice him spiralling from anywhere in Gotham. And probably ditch class to come check on him.

Like Hell. Jason’d fucking call Harley first, put himself through some breathing exercises or whatever, he did not need an emotional support Ghost King.

He gave Frostbite a quick nod, a small smile forming almost without thinking about it. The yeti was just… so caring and helpful. Not exactly something Jason had a wealth of experience with. He’d probably be a great example for Pitty.

Frostbite returned the smile, making a quick note on his tablet.

“And of course, your ghostly parent or a mentor should also be able to assist you. Spending time with those who are important to you, especially a comforting figure will help both your control and your core formation,” the yeti added in a slightly pointed way, like he’d read Jason’s mind, and Jason had to stifle a laugh.

Frostbite might be an eight foot tall hairy yeti, but he’d get along with Alfred like a house on fire… he was even as stubborn about not using their names as Alfred was about nicknames.

And when Jason thought about someone comforting, the beacon of emotional maturity and constraint… it could only be Alfred. He was more grandparent than parent, but certainly the only mentor Jason still looked up to. And a paragon of control besides.

Alfred could help him with Pitty. Model a little actual emotional restraint and control for the both of them. The only question was if Jason could just be up front and ask him, possibly revealing the secret early, or if he’d have to come up with an excuse for them to hang out.

Stupid thought. Jason knew damn well he could just walk into the kitchen and Alfred would be more than happy to spend time together. He wouldn’t need a ruse; he wouldn’t even need an excuse.

The knowledge settled warm and soft and happy inside him, until his brain caught up with his ears and stopped him short.

Wait.

“Ghost parent?” He asked cautiously, looking from Frostbite to Danny again. Danny pulled a face but Frostbite beat him to the punch.

“Ah, yes. We did not discuss that last time either. Your ghost parent, young knight, is the second strongest bond a young ghost can have. They are the ghost who welcomes you into the Infinite Realms, who will guide your steps and protect you until your own haunt has formed.”

Brows furrowing, Jason twisted to frown more directly at Danny, not quite sure if he was looking for confirmation or asking a question of his own.

Cuz, y’know, other than the whole “protecting until his haunt formed” (and Jason certainly didn’t need protecting), that sounded a lot like what Danny had been doing. Which would totally make it weird if Jason was a knight to his own ghost-dad.

Clearly following the same lines, Danny raised both hands and shook his head, almost but not quite stepping out of reach.

“Oh no, it’s not me. You’ve had a ghost parent long before I came along,” he said emphatically, the sudden panic on his face making Jason feel better about his own response to surprise parenthood.

He magnanimously decided not to tease Danny about it, turning instead to give Frostbite a questioning look.

“Should I know who my ghost parent is? Who gets to decide?” He asked cautiously. He’d never met another ghost before Danny, but he had this awful sinking feeling that Ra’s al Ghul might have more to do with the realms than just the pits, and he was the closest proxy. Even Tallia would be better. Maybe even Bruce.

Reading his tension, Frostbite clapped a massive furry hand on Jason’s shoulder, smile and aura both full of comfort-reassurance-calm.

“Normally yes young knight, though yours is a special case. Usually when a young ghost first finds its way to the realms, one of the first ghosts they encounter will take them under their wing. It is an honour to care for a young ghost, and a halfa even more so,” he explained gently.

Beside Jason, Danny snorted loudly.

“Oh, yeah, they totally come running to play happy families. Super wholesome,” he grumbled, arms folded as he leaned back into Jason’s weight.

Honestly, Jason could kinda spot common threads between what Frostbite just said and what Danny had told him about Fight Club; the play fighting was supposed to be about sharing powers, right? Just, y’know, between people with shit verbal communication to actually check in that everyone was on the same page.

The yeti sighed fondly, his hand moving from Jason’s shoulder to rest proudly on Danny’s. Given the width of Danny’s shoulders respective to the hand, the last two fingers were back on Jason’s other shoulder.

“Again, Great One, your circumstances were also exceptional. You did not explore the Ghost Zone until after you had established yourself to many as a competent fighter and protector of your haunt, which along with certain… adventures led most to believe you were far older than you are,” Frostbite explained patiently, with just the faintest hint that they’d been through this before.

Danny rolled his eyes and shot Jason double finger guns.

“Yyyyup, which is why I don’t have to deal with any of this “ghost parent” business,” he agreed brightly, tipping Jason a smirk, “get good.”

Jason flipped him off, but there was something… not in his aura, Frostbite’s was still very carefully toned back all calm medical professional, but in the creasing of the yeti’s eyes. Now, ghost yetis were definitely a new species and Batman drilled them all on the dangers of extrapolating body language on new species, but Jason had done his time on alien planets.

Something in the change, something in the shift, a little quirk of the brow Jason had noted when the yeti was amused. There was something funny here, and it wasn’t Danny’s quip.

Putting his suspicions aside for now, Jason settled on the more pressing matter.

“So who is my ghost parent? When do I get to meet them?” He asked cautiously, still not entirely convinced he hadn’t accidentally imprinted on Ra’s or Tallia. Cuz he hadn’t been in the Zone before Danny either.

Danny himself, much less concerned, waved a hand vaguely.

“Oh, we’ll deal with that on the way home. Go do a proper meet and greet, that sort of thing,” he said nonchalantly, and Jason’s shoulders settled a little.

“They’re in the Zone then?” He prodded a little further, not fully willing to let the matter just drop. If he had to ghost-emancipate himself, he’d rather be ready sooner than later.

Danny grinned toothily at him.

“Usually. We’ll see if she’s around, but it might have to be another day. Gotta deal with our other list first, like if our whole halfa deal is gonna do anything to the knight thing, or your core coming in,” he added, looking expectantly at Frostbite.

Jason almost missed what he said next as his heart skipped a beat, a possibility he’d never even considered slamming home.

She.

Someone dead, if they were in the Ghost Zone.

Someone who’d claimed him as her son long ago, guided him as best she could. Someone he’d never expected to see again, not even having died and returned to life himself.

No chance, he told himself quickly, hurriedly refocusing on the conversation at hand. About his bond with Danny, about their shared fucked biology, about his whole undead future.

There was no point dredging up the past until he actually knew.

Frostbite was back in his familiar role of teacher, that same proud/warm/fond smile crinkling the corners of his eyes as he looked at Danny.

“For your bond, Great One, I am not sure what I would even test for. The young knight presently has no ghost form, yet the bond is present exactly as if he had. I am afraid we have no records of former halfas, so any problems which occurred before are long lost.”

The yeti gave the tablet another few careful claw strokes, pulling up lines and lines of scrolling numbers and data beside each of their silhouettes on the wall screen. Forcing himself to the present, Jason scanned them quickly.

Unsurprisingly, he couldn’t actually make heads or tails of it; ghost vitals couldn’t really include things like heartbeat, blood oxygenation, or anything they’d test for in the med bay.

Not until Bruce found out about all this crap anyway - Jason wouldn’t put it past him to try and buy out everything the Far Frozen had in his latest snit of paranoia. The second he got over his “oh no Jason is going somewhere I can’t supervise him”, obviously.

Frostbite clearly knew what it all meant though, highlighting a couple of different areas where Danny’s numbers were very different from Jason’s and giving him that reassuring smile.

“After your first transformation I would expect some of these to change, and it is likely that any differences in your particular bond would show then as well. Your ghost form will of course be entirely ectoplasmic, so the bond will be more present than it is even now.”

That snapped Jason from his internal flailing, and he grimaced at the reminder.

Because… yeah. They’d talked a lot about his first transformation, he and Danny. But the only thing Danny hadn’t really known was when to expect it.

“Yeah… about that. I know the basics, inversion of my moment of death crap, I’ll be able to change it eventually, yadda yadda,” and that was its own sword of Damacles hanging with the mistletoe, “but… when will it happen? Like, will it just… happen? Or will I… yeah.”

Even wording the question made him feel like the whole thing was just too complicated. He wasn’t even sure what he wanted to ask; what to look for? Would there be symptoms? Would he just un-die again in the street?

Luckily Frostbite seemed much more comfortable, hitting a few buttons on his tablet. Jason’s scan took over the full screen once more, zoomed in on the two orbs in his chest.

They were pulsing too, growing brighter and dimmer along with the more defined throb of the ectoplasm. Which was actually when he noticed that both cores were throbbing, so… was Pitty also a knight?

That was going on the list of questions for Clockwork like, yesterday. If he could get it its own little fear gun…

“As you can see, your core is still fuzzy around the edges and incompletely formed; once these edges have smoothed out, you will hypothetically be able to transform at any time,” Frostbite explained, blissfully aware of Jason’s new train of thought.

Probably for the best. Jason reluctantly refocused on the screen, tabling the idea of Sir Pitty for now. Nice to have something actually positive to look forward to.

He didn’t really remember seeing much of the screen during his last appointment, but he had seen the perfect sphere of Danny’s core, and his looked… well, like Frostbite said, smaller and kinda fuzzy. Like a ball of dough after it started sticking to your hands and losing its shape.

He frowned and nodded, looking back to Frostbite and then glancing around at Danny.

“So not until the next appointment, probably? Will it just… happen out of nowhere? Or will I need to trigger it?” It kinda helped, narrowing the scope. Dealing with it one step at a time.

Danny gave a helpless shrug.

“My powers started activating randomly, but I didn’t actually transform until I was in danger. Not like, life threatening danger,” he added with a roll of his eyes, like he’d heard Pitty’s growl… or maybe Jason had echoed it. “It was just Lunch Lady, she was never gonna really hurt us. She just made a mess and tried to feed everyone meat.”

Jason privately added Lunch Lady to his “asses to kick” list. On principle.

Frostbite gave a thoughtful nod, a large hand clapping down on Jason’s shoulder a lot harder than he’d probably intended. He didn’t flinch, but before his pit-growth-spurt it might have knocked him over.

“We can experiment more once your core is complete here in the Zone, and I would recommend waiting until Pitty has been expelled, if possible. Of course, any other changes in your knighthood bond will likely make themselves known with your first change as well,” the yeti mused, quite pleased with the idea.

Jason hesitated before agreeing, worry twisting through him again before he tamped it back down.

He wasn’t that scared little boy anymore; not inside. Besides, the bond was already firmly in place.

His soul was resonating a pace behind Danny’s.

It wasn’t like that little trip back to the moment of his death was gonna make Danny suddenly reject him.

The poor guy was probably stuck with Jason for life anyway at this point, which for a pair of halfas meant pretty much forever.

**

There was not a single thing on Earth or the Watchtower that he wanted less than to stop and talk to John Fucking Constantine and Diana after the meeting.

To be completely fair, Constantine clearly didn’t want to have that conversation any more either; Bruce had not been wrong about how well the magician would take the news that the United States had declared war on an entire dimension.

He was visibly green, had actually ground an unlit cigarette into a grainy mess against the table in lieu of lighting up, and looked about ready to lick up the tobacco.

Diana did not look happy either, but she never had. Her face was as stony and grave as Bruce had ever seen it, concern writ large even as she caught his eye.

The sure knowledge that her lasso would follow if he tried to leave was the only thing that kept him from ignoring her.

But since the only thing he wanted in the world at this moment was to have his son in his arms, and there was no chance of that happening until they were in the same dimension once more…

Bruce shot a quick, questioning look at Clark as the traitor made his way to the exit along with the rest of the Justice League. The Kryptonian at least had the grace to look a little guilty as he shook his head, stepping quickly out the door.

Wonder Woman hadn’t specifically told everyone else to get the fuck out. She had simply molded herself into an immovable force, concluded the meeting, and instructed Bruce alone to remain and discuss these… complications.

Bruce considered making an argument for Superman’s inclusion. They were the original three, and they’d probably need at least his and Aquaman’s help to handle the diplomatic situation.

Possibly the Oa, and Bruce was quite sure Green Lantern wasn’t looking forward to that possibility any more than he was. Hal Jordan talked a good game, always far too flippant, but he’d been pale enough by the end of the lecture that his suit made him look frankly unwell.

Unpleasant times would be in all of their futures it seemed. It was no real comfort as he slipped into a seat across from Wonder Woman and the slumped form of John Constantine.

The magician didn’t even look up, but clearly noticed.

“Didn’t fuckin’ think anyone’d fuck this up worse’n you, Bats,” he groaned, face still pressed into the table.

Bruce grunted, uninterested in his judgement.

“There are new complications we should focus on.” A vain hope, and one Diana instantly crushed.

“One that makes the contents of our discussion all the more vital,” she corrected sharply, piercing blue eyes narrowed as she watched his face. “It seems we have already caused unintentional offence.”

Which was an extremely light way to phrase the declared genocide, but Bruce didn’t bother arguing that position. Not when Constantine would do it for him.

But the mage just let out a long, hearty groan.

“Offence. Yeah. Maybe if we saw off the United States and toss it through a portal the rest of us will be fine,” he snarked, raising his head just enough to bang it off the table. Repeatedly.

By the third bang Diana gripped the back of his head, holding him in place against the table.

“Whatever the situation,” she growled, her tone daring either of them to comment, “we must deal with it as it is. You believe we would have noticed any countermeasures from the former Ghost King?”

She released her grip a moment later, and Constantine rolled his head just enough to glare at her through one eye.

“Pariah Dark? Sister, it wouldn’ta been a single town bein’ pulled off the map. We’d have lost the continent, and probably the world. You wouldn’t miss it,” he added with a bitter laugh, clearly considering banging his head off the table again.

Diana placed a hand on the table. Constantine set his head back down gently.

“And the new king?” She prodded, all icy control.

Bruce had to admit, even he felt calmer watching her.

He knew all the follies and foibles of gods, had no delusions about the limits of her power. He also knew her strengths. Her wisdom. Her ability to cut through complex issues with sword or words.

Whatever he missed, she was removed enough from this mess to catch.

Constantine shrugged, still not rising.

“No fuckin’ clue. All I know is they’re better’n Pariah, which is the lowest damn bar I ever saw. They call them Balance, and we’re not gonna fuckin’ like when the scales come due.”

Bruce’s brows furrowed. What could be a sufficient counterweight for demanding a whole people be hunted and experimented on until extinction?

The dead always vastly outnumbered the living.

Diana cut across his thoughts, her tone as sharp as her blade.

“So you believe we’d notice.”

Constantine sighed heavily and flopped back in his seat hard enough that he nearly toppled over. Diana steadied the chair with one hand, eyebrow rising archly.

Constantine stopped flailing, went to fold his arms, and instead stuffed his hands in his pockets.

“Probably’d be pretty hard to miss too,” he agreed gruffly. Diana nodded, having received the answer she wanted, and interlaced her fingers.

“Then we have time to rectify matters before word reaches his ears.” She paused, brow furrowing as she recounted John’s words. “Do we not know if the King is a man?”

Constantine shrugged again, pulling something unidentifiable from his pocket before hastily shoving it back in, coming out again with a lighter. He spun it between his fingers, eyes fixed on the metal lid.

“Nah. “King” is just a loose translation to living tongues, for what yer used to. Easier to say than “Supreme High Ruler, Core of the Realms”. Not even likely that they were ever human; not even the Ancients could take Pariah solo to take the crown, so a human ghost wouldn’t stand a chance.”

Huffing out a mighty breath, Constantine looked from the lighter to Bruce, his gaze somehow immeasurably more tired. Bruce had imagined that talking about Amity Park made the man look ancient.

He looked haggard enough to be an ancient ghost himself now.

Raising his other hand, he began counting off points on his fingers.

“We know they’re young. Everything agrees on that. Could be any time in the past few centuries, but it’s still a timeline. We know they’re tougher’n Hell and all its demons put together, cuz they put Pariah down single handed. Had to to get the throne. Might not have Ended him, the Casket of Eternal Slumber’s not turned up looking for a new occupant.”

The magician stared at his two fingers for a moment, then sighed and raised a third.

“And we know ghosts like them. They’re less scared, though most of ‘em never knew shit about Pariah. Didn’t even react to him waking, which had to happen for the change in power. That or it all went down too fast for the shockwaves to reach us here; not bloody likely. Wouldn’t take more than a day, and ghosts fight for decades on a whim.”

He hesitated for a moment, considering that last finger. Finally he sighed and shook his head.

“Can’t rule it out though. Pariah waking up’d be as much an emergency for them as it’d be for us, putting his ass back down is an all hands on deck situation on either side of the veil. If this new king is Balance, Pariah’d be their opposite,” he finished gruffly, glaring at all three digits before stuffing both hands into his pockets.

Bruce nodded, drawing a deep, calming breath in through his nose and then out through his mouth. Even this much discussion had something itching in the back of his mind, a building tension that he had to Get Away.

He was in control of it though. Could tell the difference between his own unease and the burning ember of the oath.

Turn and run right away his ass. Magic could never hold out against cool, calm logic.

“And this new king, Balance, has stamped a damn mark on Jason.”

And his breath hitched.

Sharp, white hot panic flared behind his eyes, every muscle clenching with the effort of not leaping straight from the table. The only reason he didn’t was because he had no idea where to go.

What would he even do? Run to Jason’s side? The boy was in another dimension, far beyond Bruce’s reach.

Again.

He was losing Jason again. Losing him to this Ghost King, this Balance, this-

Diana’s hand clamped firmly over his, the amazon’s grip immovable steel. Bruce felt his bones grinding together before he even noticed he’d stopped breathing, before he managed to look up enough to meet her eyes.

Stern, determined, brilliant blue locked with his. Her grip tightened a little further, the ribbing on his gloves creaking with the pressure.

She wouldn’t break them… probably. They were designed to hold up against any of the supers the League dealt with. Prolonged contact was another thing entirely though.

His attention now locked on her face, Bruce managed a deep breath in along with her. Held it when she did. Let it out.

She didn’t release him for another few repetitions, until he was breathing mostly on his own again. Then she returned her attention to Constantine.

“What.” It wasn’t aggressive. Just a completely flat, completely toneless statement.

Constantine gave her an entirely hopeless smile, pulling his hands from his pockets to give her jazz hands.

“And that’s what he’s not ready to hear yet. Your boy, Jason, Red Hood, has gotten himself personally warded by the Ghost King. He’s the next thing to invulnerable right now,” he added bitterly, as if that made any of it better.

An icy hand clenched in Bruce’s chest again, but he forced himself to still. To breathe through it. To not turn and run, run until he found his child and tore him away from whatever influence had him.

The Ghost King had a hold of Jason. Jason who’d all but ordered Bruce to let him go.

“And Jason must have been in direct contact with the King to receive these wards?” Diana asked sharply, and Bruce’s head snapped back to her.

It was a good question. Important, obvious, there was a connection there that he should be making, but he couldn’t think. His head was spinning, heart pounding, and every shadow seemed black as pitch.

Constantine grunted an agreement, shooting Bruce an almost sympathetic look.

Could. Could this be the oath? Not his own instinctive, natural panic?

Bruce couldn’t tell, he’d been so afraid for so long, ever since he held Jason’s broken body in his arms. Ever since he buried his son.

It felt the same. But he had mastered that fear long ago, so this would not control him now. He had to be better.

Frowning at Diana, he leaned forward.

“Explain.” She’d probably assumed that he’d made the same connection. He probably should have.

There was just a brief flash of surprise on her face before her expression softened, her hand gentling over his.

“Jason was the one who told you of these Anti Ecto Acts, was he not?” She asked pointedly, a dark brow arching delicately.

Bruce about managed a grunt of agreement, his jaw clenched too tightly to speak. She waited a moment longer, watching his face, and then sighed.

“Then is it not likely that either he has told Balance of these Acts, or that Balance was the one that told him?”

Constantine jerked and got halfway through a bellowed curse before she cut him off with a glare. Her tone brooked no argument as she continued with a firm, frosted patience.

“Jason is a principled young man, even if not of the exact principles you prefer. Either he has warned you because he believes we have time to fix this, or because the King would prefer we handle it,” she said bluntly.

It sounded so simple, put like that. Far too simple. Bruce shook his head, leaning in.

“We can’t know for sure-”

“Batman.” There was nothing harsh in her tone. Nothing so overtly aggressive as the glare she kept giving Constantine. Just a calm, cool statement that sucked the air from his lungs.

The weight of her own mantle, the Amazon princess who would one day be Queen. Not his friend Diana; Wonder Woman.

Once she was sure he wouldn’t continue, she fixed him with a sapphire stare.

“Do you believe Jason Todd would condone the end of the world?” She asked simply, and that at least was that plain.

“No.” It didn’t even require thought; whatever he feared ever since his son took his first life, Bruce knew that.

Jason was fundamentally a good boy. So kind, so giving, ironically he had been the most well adjusted boy Bruce had ever given the mantle to.

Which was what made what he’d become so painful. It was everything he never should have been.

Wonder Woman nodded as if that solved all the rest.

“And yet you called the meeting, not him. He has known for several days already and did nothing to alert any of us. Therefore, he does not believe this is an urgent threat.”

It sounded good, and Bruce almost believed it before Constantine snorted.

“Yeah, great, except the kid has no fuckin’ clue what he’s dealing with. Didn’t even know he’d been fuckin’ marked or that sellin’ his fuckin’ service was the dumbest fuckin’ thing he coulda done,” he grumbled and Bruce’s heart fell.

Wonder Woman was not so easily swayed. She raised an eyebrow slowly at the magician.

“And could those protective marks have been placed on Jason against his will?” She asked pointedly, like she knew the first thing about magic.

Constantine hesitated. Frowned a little, thinking hard. Finally he threw both hands in the air and leaned back in his chair, scrubbing them down his face.

“Technically, yes, alright? But I can’t think of a damn reason why they’d bother. Like I told the old Bat, it’s technically a good thing; I couldn’t even get a basic diagnostic spell off, he’s completely fuckin’ magic proof an’ anythin’ that can read that ward will run like fuck.”

Something in Bruce’s chest flickered hopefully. Wonder Woman nodded firmly, then redirected her stare to him.

“Then until we have reason not to, we assume that Jason Todd has control of this situation. He has assigned us to deal with these Acts, either before his king discovers them or on their behalf. You, Batman, will defer to his experience along with that of our experts,” she declared with all the ringing command she was capable of.

It chafed. And yet… he could hear the echo of Harley’s words in her voice.

What if Jason was wrong? It was the kind of thing he always thought about, the kind of thing he couldn’t stop thinking about. The kind of thing that had the Batman able to stand and go toe to toe with gods.

But what if Jason was right? What if Harley, Diana, Constantine were right, and his usual measures would spell disaster?

He had a dozen contingency plans that any member of the League could use to take him down. He was painfully aware that the first one, the one he’d already shown to Superman and Wonder Woman, only had two words in it.

Diana’s Judgement.

She hadn’t technically invoked it yet. Had never bothered asking exactly what he meant by it; she wasn’t one to back down from hard subjects, which meant she’d also never bothered hiding how little she thought of his contingency plans.

His League-specific ones, anyway. She liked the ones he had for the rogues and various end of the world crises.

It meant moments like this, where she would give him her honest, simple judgement and reign him in.

(Technically it also meant that he trusted her to decide when she needed to snap his neck, but Martian Manhunter always looked at him with disappointment when he thought about that side too much.)

Looking back to her face, he managed to meet her eyes and nod once. It went against every instinct he had, every year of experience and loss, but…

If he couldn’t do things he didn’t like, he’d never have become Batman.

**

Head spinning with a plethora of new information, bag of ecto candies in hand, Jason deliberately slowed down to let Danny precede him out of Frostbite’s office.

That little suspicion had been growing, kindling the more they discussed halfa anatomy and bonds, and honestly? Yes, he had been using it as an excuse to think about something other than his own problems.

Danny seemed not to notice, disappearing past the doorway as Jason looked up at Frostbite. Figured fuck it; he didn’t know how much time he had. Best be blunt.

“You’re Danny’s ghost parent, aren’t you?” He asked, knowing from the yeti’s face as he did that he was right.

The way it froze for just a moment, eyes flicking to the door Danny had just left through. Then the smile that spread, knowing and secretive as he bent down for the first time to put his face on Jason’s level.

“He takes such pleasure in believing he does not have one; the Great One values his independence highly, and his history with parental figures is… complex. It can be our secret, yes?” The yeti winked.

Jason hesitated for a moment, thinking back to all he knew about Danny’s home life. It wasn’t actually all that much; Danny probably actually knew more about Jason’s, after the last week.

That wasn’t just a rarity, it was practically unheard of for any of the former Robins, and Jason knew exactly how Dick and Harley would react to that information.

They’d accuse him of growth. Gross. They couldn’t be told.

And yeah, maybe Jason had a bit of a personal understanding of why Danny wouldn’t want an overabundance of parental figures around. Their situations weren’t exactly the same, not really, but Jason knew enough verses of the song.

All teen heroes tended to have certain things in common, the biggest of which was whatever parental figure they had failing to protect them. Failing to keep them from the darkness, forcing a kid to take on a mantle and burdens that they never should have.

He’d wanted to pound Bruce’s bones to pulp for putting another kid in his cape. Wound up nearly pounding Tim’s instead, however the pit and Tallia had twisted things to make that seem like the same thing.

And Danny hadn’t just picked up the mantle of Teen Hero. He’d picked up a crown, a whole realm of responsibilities and rulership over the dead.

Personally, Jason thought Danny was missing out on an easy dodge of king duties by not finding his ghost parent; Clockwork was his regent but still apparently bothered him for work.

A parent ruling until the child was of age was behind most of the most brutal regicides in any monarchic system; the dead had to know about it.

But that’d mean Clockwork bothering Frostbite at all hours, possibly. Or Clockwork finding new excuses to keep checking on a crown prince Jason had already seen was a handful.

Yeah, he could see why no one really challenged Danny’s assertion that he didn’t have a ghost parent.

Jason spared a moment wondering about his own again.

He knew better than to hope, he really did. Catherine Todd deserved much better than an afterlife of watching over his many mistakes. If there was any justice to death, she’d moved straight past the realms and into the most perfect of paradises.

He liked to think she’d be proud of him. Of the work he’d done, the good he’d spread through the Alley even if it was on the end of a gun.

So long as it wasn’t any form of al Ghul whatsoever, Jason was pretty sure he could handle any other ghost parent the multiverse could throw at him.

Danny’s head poked back around the corner, grinning in a very worried way between the two of them.

“Everything okay back here?” He asked with some of the worst overhyped cheer Jason had ever heard.

Alright, maybe Danny would actually also have been a problem for ghost parent. Because Jason thought he was hot. Because he was an awful mother hen even as a friend.

Jason raised his bag of ecto candies.

“Just checking how many of these I can safely have in a day,” he said innocently, and kinda hoped Danny didn’t actually feel the wash of Frostbite’s approval as the yeti straightened.

That would give the game away.

“They are not a substitute for sleep or nutrition for your human form,” Frostbite told him, as if that was what they’d been talking about.

Jason sighed heavily, doing his best impression of Tim being handed decaf.

“Listen, a guy can hope?”

“Oh you’re not gonna win that one,” Danny snickered, brightening with the distraction and all but skipping in to take Jason’s arm, “let’s scram before he gets the powerpoints.”

Frostbite gave them a cheerful wave on the way out the door, and Jason managed a mostly sincere smile as Danny began regaling him on some of his teenaged attempts to persuade Frostbite to let him give up sleep for finals week.

Yeah, he might add the Fenton parents to the butt-kicking list. Below the ghosts, obviously, for whom butt-kicking was a social courtesy.

But, y’know. If he ever got the chance to have a quiet word about taking care of your damn kids.

———————

And here we have Part 1! Imma just yeet it up so you can all get started while I edit Part 2, because again, this is a Girthy One without an easier breakpoint 👀

I’ll still try and get Part 2 done tonight, but I’ve kept y’all waiting long enough

Tag List: @welcometosasakiworld @kyrianclawraith @someonebored0100 @stealingyourbones @starkcravingmad @frostedthroughghost @akikkobara @rainbowbunny0159 @littlefeather345 @violet-catsarelife @serasvictoria02 @wolfjackle @blacksea21090 @secretdestinywerewolf @anime-hipster-the-amazing @undead-essence @skitscratched @blackroserelina @snoodly-boop @mayoota-blog @xysidhe @little-apricot-the-writer @chaoticmistake @the-legal-shipper @bun-fish @aroranorth-west @demon-cat-goes-woof f @perfectwastelandcreation @onyxlightdragon @larks-and-katydids @peachesandcreamfemboy @jesus-camp-the-sequel @may-rbi @mothman-the-mothman87 @viyatrix @stargirl1331 @idfk-man10 @thedepressedrobin @skulld3mort-1fan @rootsmudge @ravenshadow17 @cankoking @phantom-dc @mentalcarebear @magic-pincushion @redamancyardor @lyra689 @itsparadoxlacuna @alcorbearson @asphyxia778 8 @why-must-i-be-like-this @tkiesai i @greenpyrowolf @frivolous-pastel @honeysuckletook @adorkable1291

Part Two:

[thenightwolf51]

So i just read this post about the Bats being Warlocks with Danny as their Patron and its super great, amazing work @aziraphale-is-a-cat and @percyisawesome

At first i thought Lady Gotham was going to be their Patron, because i immediately forgot i was reading a crossover, and that sparked an idea.

What if Lady Gotham doesn't exist and Phantom was the Gotham city spirit.

So DPxDC idea where Phantom was the first recorded Hero/Meta way back before the Justice League members were even born, because i love those stories, but if course no one knew that back then. Metas weren't a thing yet.

So things go as canon but eventually the GIW get worse and worse, especially as more and more of Amity becomes Liminal from ambient ecto leaking from the portal.

And the GIW, way too confident with the Anti Ecto Acts in place, decide that Amity Park is a lost cause. They launch a major attack the town and destroy the portal in the process.

And even though i think the surviving Amity Parkers would buckle down, stand strong, and rebuild their town. For the sake of this idea, lets say they don't do that.

Instead the survivors band together and decide they need to leave, get as far from the GIW's main base of operations as they can.

They go right.

They end up in Gotham, New Jersey.

Now, im messing with the timeline a bit. I still kinda want the DP parts to be early 2000s, maybe late 80s/early 90s at the least, so the uniquely DC events im pushing to later in time a bit.

So lets say Gotham, while still pretty old and with its history and subtle curses, never really expanded into the huge city we normally think of. No towering skyscrapers or really any huge buildings, is barely a small city at this point.

And then an influx of new residents from the west cause a need to expand. Over the generations the former Amity Parkers help Gotham become what we know in Bruces time. By then they're just Gothamites, and if their subtle limiality is to attribute for the modern Gothamite's durability and the eventual rogues' whole... thing well its been way too long to place blame on that random group of refugees.

And where was Phantom in all this? Watching over his people. The portal and his family are gone, he cant be Danny because the survivors believe he died when FentonWorks exploded, all he really has at the moment is these people who's lives he believes he inadvertently destroyed.

So he watches over them, then their descendants and the seemingly unfortunate people of their new home. This little city has afew old curses that are holding the residents back and making them miserable, its the least he can do to take some of them on for himself, just make things easier for the people.

Eventually the city becomes his new haunt, becomes a part of him as he helps it grow and expand. And some Amity descendants still spread the urban legend that is the Phantom of Gotham.

(Just a little side detail that im not sure how to add in but i really like the idea of Liminality eventually evolving or mutating into the meta gene if there's not enough ambient ectoto keep it active. Maybe the portal sent out a shock wave of radiation when it was destroyed. Not everyone was affected but for those who were it either was so subtle the effects fade within a month from the lack of enough ambient ecto or went dormant until it became a meta gene and no longer needed ecto.

I dont know, i mostly like the irony of Batman's "no meta's in Gotham" rule when most of Gotham was unknowingly built by the original "metas")

@hdgnj @dcxdpdabbles @nelkcats @nerdpoe @ailithnight @tathartiel

And @omnicrafts , hope your feeling better

[constesplanetarium]

꧁•⊹٭𝚃𝚑𝚎 𝙷𝚊𝚞𝚗𝚝𝚎𝚍 𝙼𝚊𝚗𝚜𝚒𝚘𝚗 𝚘𝚏 𝙷𝚘𝚞𝚜𝚎 𝙲𝚊𝚜𝚝𝚒𝚎𝚕𝚕𝚘.٭⊹•꧂

☼⚠︎ Male! Yandere Ghosts/Spirit Harem x GN! AFAB! Reader (Part 1)

UPDATE!

Darkness rating ) 6/10: “Getting a little shocking now.”

✧─── ･ ｡ﾟ★: *.✦ .* :★. ───✧

CONTENT WARNINGS!!!

General Yandere shenanigans (possessiveness, jealousy, aggression towards other guys, etc.), also light mentions of sex.

There’s also light possession, so I want to add Dub-con (dubious consent) into the list.

Word count: Around 6k. Sorry that it’s so long lolz, don’t worry, the next part will be shorter :)

⋆♱✮☽🦇☽✮♰⋆

The giant doors to the dark, cold mansion slowly and loudly creak open, the moonlight from outside pouring into the empty entrance hall. Not a soul in sight, as always. A couple shivers spread throughout your body, and with a huff, you point your flashlight all around the room, seeing every single cobweb, and the giant chandelier hanging above your head. Two statues line the beginning on the railing of the stairs in the center of the hall, both of them looking like two sorts of creatures. You can’t really tell what it is. Odd.

Ah, should you wear a mask? This house is old after all, so much dirt and debris could be inhaled here.

You find yourself mindlessly wandering the hall, thinking about every rumor that has been passed around in your town.

The haunted mansion on the hill. That’s what some people called it. Most had other creative names such as “that hellhole” or “that creepy ass house”, one time you even heard that this place was “The devil’s funhouse”. Every rumor you had heard involved people disappearing, or even dying in this mansion.

How creative. What’s next, is the boogeyman going to come after you?

You point your flashlight to the stars leading up to the second floor, and you marvel at how the wood doesn’t seem like it’s rotting at all. It looks so pristine, like it was just cleaned. Do people come here often after all? A couple stomps on the first step beneath you also don’t break or seem like it’s rotting either.

Maybe there is something odd about this house. It’s hundreds of years old, and it looks so nice, yet no one’s been in here for centuries. And even after that, this place looks decently clean, besides the couple cobwebs. The townsfolk were planning on demolishing it a bit ago, but had stopped after some “disturbances on the property” had occurred, and this place was blocked to the public. In fact, the way you had to climb that big ass gate just to get here was appalling. If nothing else, you’re leaving with something from here. Maybe as a souvenir, maybe to sell, it doesn’t matter.

With a small shuffle of your shoulders, you swing your backpack down onto the grou-

Your whole body jumps, causing you to yelp as you turn to the source of the sound behind you. What was that? That loud bang? You see the door that you had just opened shut without warning, the hall enveloped in mostly darkness again, the only light being from your flashlight, and the moonlight that’s creeping through the windows. You scramble your stuff back onto your back, pulling the dusty handle.

It’s stuck. It’s stuck. It’s stuck.

You feel a flash of anger and pound your fist on the door. Whoever the fuck this is from town, it’s not funny! What the fuck?! Ugh, it’s probably one of the guys that told you to go here, maybe it was fucking Jacob or something. Your grumble curses to yourself quietly and slip off your backpack off again, rummaging through it just to pull out a pocket knife. At least you have a form of defense. You heave your backpack on your back and wave your flashlight in several directions, attempting to scare off whatever's there. If something even is there.

The wood under you creaks after every couple steps you climb on the stairs, and you decide to take a left on the branching part of the stairs. You anxiously take a glance behind you after getting to the top, and expectedly, you see nothing. With a small sigh, you walk through the rest of the hall, and decide to stop at a door on the right. The clean doorknob surprises you, and yet again, it’s a bit more proof that someone might live here.

Hah. Ghosts my ass. Are you kidding me? Maybe you’ll file a police report after all of this. You turn the knob and creak open the door, ever so slightly. Pointing the flashlight into the room, you’re suddenly met with a very comfortable-looking room. You can see yourself in the giant body mirror, and the bed looks... Uhm.

Is that a lump? Is it moving?

Your eyes go wide, and you stare in horror as whatever is under the blankets suddenly rises up and pulls the covers off themselves. You don’t even wait around to see who it is, as you shut the door and bound back down the stairs, stopping at the main doors as you desperately pull on the handles.

It doesn’t budge, of course.

Ah fuck, why even bother?! You turn and make a quick right, down another hall. But right after you make the turn, you catch a dark, tall figure staring down at you. Unmoving. Just staring.

Fuck no.

The hard, tile floor under you echoes loudly after each step as you bound down the hall, your steps finally silencing as you run on the carpet into what seems to be a sort of study. You would admire how big and spacious this is for a study, and you can see just how many books are on the shelves, but you don’t have time for that. You slide yourself under a small table, and shut off your flashlight.

Now you just wait.

Unfortunately, you don’t have to wait long, as whoever was there steps into the study, and seems to take a glance around. Their heavy breathing seems to echo around as their steps get closer and closer to your hiding spot. You hold your breath and almost decide to start praying to whatever god exists right then and there, but your muscles relax as the figure starts to walk away, with a small hum of an old tune you don’t know.

You wait about a minute to make sure they don’t come back, and you shuffle out your hiding spot, fidgeting with the pocket knife in your hands with a small, shaky exhale. Holy shit, you gotta get out of this house.

But how? Through a window? No, the noise of the shattering would draw the person over, and there’s the risk of broken glass shards in your skin. There could be a courtyard in the back, where you could leave that way. But wouldn’t there be a fence surrounding it? Or maybe some hedges? Hmm.

Your phone doesn’t have any service here either, it was like that as soon as you stepped onto the grounds of the mansion, damn it.

Might as well give the courtyard idea a shot. With a couple taps on your hand, you switch your flashlight back on and take in your surroundings. Okay, to the courtyard would be through the main hall, and… Fuck. How would you get there? You grumble annoyingly and peer into the hallway, making sure the figure is completely gone, before making your way back into the main hall.

Just as eerie as it was before, ugh. You stand there for a moment, swiveling your flashlight around until you find that hallway. Taking a couple of steps over-

A loud bang makes you instinctively turn your head, and you’re met with a creature beyond comprehension. So ugly, so grotesque, so…

You scream and try to turn to run away, but you’re forcefully knocked off your feet. You look up fearfully at the creature. But, it’s gone.

A man has taken its place instead.

A man dressed in some fancy, old suit laughs over you, clutching his stomach as he laughs so hard, his heart might just come out. His glasses are a bit crooked on his face, and you can see a couple rings on his left hand. His dark, dirty blonde hair is messy and certain strands are falling over onto his face. But the most interesting thing is that he’s semi-transparent. You can see right through him, just like a glass, or a fish tank. “Ahem, I… I apologize.” He clears his throat and bends down, gazing at you in wonder. “A human? Ah, now what’s a human doing here in the mansion walls? Are you lost, moonshine?”

Oh. Oh my.

Wow, what a nice voice he has. You find yourself nervously fidgeting with your clothes and flashlight as you stare up at him with no words.

“Ah, are you scared?” He frowns and bends down, offering his hand out to you. “Please don’t be scared, moonshine. I just like to joke around quite often.”

That was joking around? That… Thing?

But the way he’s looking down at you… He probably doesn’t mean any harm, right? And he isn’t trying to kill you now, so…

You take his hand instinctively, but it just phases through. Oh right, ghost. You look up at him and frown as he has a stupid smile on his face, giggling. “My apologies.” You get back up on your feet and brush yourself off, that fall did kind of hurt. You wouldn’t be surprised if you wake up with a couple bruises.

“Now, back to my last question, what’re you doing here, hmm?” He tilts his head from side to side and looks at you, humming as he does so. “I won’t chastise you for anything, I’m just curious.”

You stammer out some excuse. It’s best not to tell him you went out here on some ghost story rumor.

But you never expected to find an actual ghost here.

“Ah, a little visitor?” The man cheers and swirls around you, jokingly thrusting his arm through your chest. “Now, what do you plan to do while you’re here, hmm? Perhaps a house tour?” He giggles and flexes his hand through you as a shiver spreads itself through your body, and you move out of his way quickly. “Ah, it’s been so, so long! How many years has it been, hmm? Ah,” He snaps his fingers together. “Alexander must know the answer. I must ask him later, huh…” It’s already difficult to keep up with this… Whatever he is. “I know it’s been more than 200, hmmmmm…” He drones out his question as he floats all around you, dragging his hands and fingers across your body. It’s a bit uncomfortable. “Well, no matter, ahem.” With a snap in your face, you flinch and look up at him in front of you. “Welcome!”

Eugh. He already gives you the heebie-jeebies. Your eyes keep on glancing towards the hallway leading to the courtyard. It’s right there… “I understand that this place isn’t too… Pristine. But I can turn on the lights for you if you’d like?” He flicks over to a candle, and it suddenly lights. With a small point to the chandelier, the dark hall is suddenly lit up with a soft, amber glow. “We don’t have… Electrical lights here in the main parts of the building, such as the hallways, per say, but we have some lamps here and there. Mostly in our rooms. We also have a oven and fridge that work quite fine.” He chuckles and you can’t help but tune out some of his words. He talks so much, the hell… “We stole both the fridge and oven. Isn’t that funny? Ah, Dalton almost broke the oven that one time, I remember he…” You subconsciously tune out his voice in favor of the hallway, it’s right there.

Freedom. Right there, huh?

“Now, what’re you looking at, hmm?” Cold hands suddenly grasp your head and force you to turn back to him, and he leans in close. How the fuck can a ghost grab you? “I would prefer you to only look at me, now. Aren’t I the star of the show at this moment, darling?” He cooes quietly in your ear and you let out a shaky exhale. Man, he can sweet talk, but in this scenario, it’s a bit more frightening than enthralling. “I’m not your everyday, ordinary ghost that you hear in those little children's tales. I do hope you understand that.” Yeah, he isn’t as nice as you thought, I guess. Luckily, he lets go pretty quick and looks in the direction of your gaze. “Ah, down there? Would you like to explore more?” It looks like your input isn't even needed, as he grabs your hand and interlocks your fingers with his. He’s just cold. Cold all over. He tugs you lightly and leads you down the hallway, and you slip your flashlight into a little water bottle section of your backpack.

“This hallway can lead to the kitchen, a bathroom, the first floor of the library, the courtyard…” He hums as he shows you around. Every couple of steps, the candles in the hallway seem to light on their own, lighting up a path for the both of you to take. You even get a good glimpse of the paintings on the walls, some of them just being flowers and fruit, and some of them being people. You even see your little tour guide on the wall, smiling at you eagerly. The other people are the other inhabitants of the mansion, you presume.

… Now why do you feel like there's more than one pair of eyes on you?

“I never told you my name, did I?” He tugs you over as you both make a small right, stopping at two large doors, decorated with gold engravings. “It’s Oliver, or you can give me a cute little nickname.” He pulls the right door open with his other hand, and chuckles to himself. “How about Olive? Maybe Ollie? Or maybe it can be something like darling, dearest, maybe sweetheart?” He tugs you inside the open door, and lets go of your hand to shut the door behind you two. “I would prefer the latter three, just so you know.” Not even 5 seconds passes by, but he’s grabbed onto your hand again and is tugging you into the dark room. “Ah, I forgot, welcome to the library.” As soon as he says that, the big chandelier above lights to reveal probably the biggest library you’ve ever seen. You didn’t even know it was possible to have this many books in one place. There’s a small pathway with a long rug, leading to a sort of gothic, spiraling staircase.

“Hmm, he should be here, he’s been reading more recently…” He mutters and leads both of you up the staircase. “Ah, you probably don’t know who I’m talking about. I’m looking for our ‘leader’, I guess you could call him that. He just keeps Alex and Dalton in order most of the time, since they’re always fighting.” With a small chuckle, you both are suddenly at the top of the staircase, and you’re met with an elegant little study in the middle of the room, showcasing a couple of sofas with a small wooden table in the middle.

Oliver leads you to the study, taking a small glance around and he scoffs. “He isn’t here, huh…” He doesn’t seem too bothered by it, as he takes a seat on the sofa and pats the spot next to him. “Come here, sit! You’re probably exhausted from running around this whole time.” You set your backpack down on the floor with a thud, leaning back and finally getting a chance to relax. “We’ll just stay here for a while longer.” Oliver slips off his glasses, and suddenly pulls a small piece of cloth out of thin air, wiping them down as he hums the same tune you don’t recognize. Well, it does sound a bit familiar, but what is he humming, anyway?

“Clair de Lune, I’m sure you’ve heard of it?” Indeed you have. So that's what it was. “Austin happened to be playing it on the piano when I was passing by, and it’s gotten stuck in my head.” He sticks his glasses back on and leans back on the cushion, looking over at you. “Do you like classical music? I’m fond of it, personally.”

You just shrug your shoulders and give him an awkward smile. You don’t have any strong feelings about it, really.

He laughs quietly at your response, and shuffles closer to you. “Are you scared?” He scratches at your thigh jokingly and grins. “Does the mansion frighten you? Oooh….” He shakes his hand around jokingly, making you break out into a small smile. What an idiot.

Oliver looks relieved that you’re smiling. “Don’t let the whole creepiness of the mansion bother you, darling. It’s not so bad. I mean, hey, I’m pretty nice, huh?” Well, he IS the only one you’ve met so far…

You find yourself conflicted. You really want to leave as quick as you can but…

How are the other inhabitants of the house? How do they act? Are they as nice as Oliver, or more sadistic and condescending?

“I can’t say the others are too nice.” Well that answers your question right there. Though, it’s always important to have an unbiased party, like yourself. He sighs and pushes himself up against you. You didn't even know he had scooted that close until you felt his cold thigh against yours. Is he even cold through clothes? “Alexander's more annoying, Dalton is rude, and Edmund… Well, I guess he can just get carried away with hospitality. He won’t even give you room to breathe. I’m a bit better in that department.” He chuckles it off and looks down at you. “It would be best to just stick with me, alright?”

Well, it’s not like you can really rely on anyone else except him right now. You nod, but take quick notice the way his smile twitches at it’s corners. “If you see one of the others, just go and hide for a while. I’ll come find you.”

You tilt your head and voice your concerns about his suggestion. I mean, if he’s so nice, what’s stopping the others from helping you as well?

“It’s just… They might get a little ‘overprotective’ with you. We haven’t had a visitor for so long, you know?” He fidgets with the rings on his left hand as he speaks. “Usually people only get to the gates outside the grounds before they’re driven away by the other spirits living here, but I’m not sure how you got a pass in…” He grins and caresses your head, playing with your hair as he whispers into your ear, “Did you sell your soul now? Ah, but there’s a heart there still beating.” He places his hand over your heart, and all of a sudden you can feel and hear your heart pounding right in your head. You wince at the feeling, what the hell? “You’re shaking. Are you scared, darling?” Oliver cups your cheek, placing a kiss on the corner of your eye as you blink away a tear forming. It’s so uncomfortable.

You try to push him away from his chest, but your hand phases through as he laughs at you. “Ghost, remember? Well, maybe not a ghost, but similar.” His hand rubs your thigh, and you try to laugh alongside him. “I can touch you, but you can’t touch me. Funny, right? It works the other way around, too.” Your body feels weird, but it’s not bad.

Why did his kiss feel so good? Warmth spreads throughout your body as you look up at him, suddenly desperate for that comforting feeling again. You reach up for his neck, using your hand to push him closer to you. His body feels warm now. What did he do? What the hell was that? His arm sets itself around your waist as he pushes you closer to him, and he grins. “Why’re you so frightened? It’s just me.” His sweet talk sounds so nice now. Oliver. Oliver. Oliver. Oliver.

… What were you thinking about again? Wasn’t it Oliver? It was, wasn’t it? Your heartbeat is still pounding in your head, but do you even care? You don’t, don’t you? Does Oliver care either? His heavy breathing fills your head, almost distracting you from your jumbled thoughts, and you can barely hear what he’s saying. It’s becoming muffled. Something about you being pretty?

“All mine, right?” You tilt your head into his hand, snuggling into his palm as you stare at him in confusion. He sets a small kiss on your forehead and laughs. He’s so handsome. “It’s nothing, never mind.” He leans down and whispers against your lips quickly, “It’s nothing at all.” and then he presses his lips against yours. Ah, they’re so warm. You clutch at his hair as you both deepen the kiss, and you start to hear him moan softly on your mouth.

“Thank the lord I got to you first, you’re all mine.” His breathing is shaky and frantic as you both go back in to kiss each other. You can feel his hands snake down to your hips, then under your pants as he starts to fidget with your panties. No way, it already feels this fucking good, imagine him rubbing your-

All of a sudden, the candles start to flicker in and out, distracting you from the kiss. Oliver looks just as surprised, and then he clicks his tongue and backs away, that warm feeling vanishing from you in almost an instant.

What the hell just happened again? You both were talking about the other people in the house, and then…

That’s it? You could swear there's a small gap in your memory or something…

Eh. Whatever.

Oliver sighs and gets up, brushing himself off. “Dalton's probably throwing a tantrum, or maybe it’s a couple of the servant spirits fighting. The candle’s don’t usually flicker like that unless something else is overpowering the magic.” He scoffs, and looks down at you lovingly. “Stay here in the library, okay? I’ll be back in a bit. Stay on the second level.” He pats your head, and in the blink of an eye, he vanishes through the floor, leaving you alone.

Finally getting out of here sounds like a good idea, fantastic even. You snatch up your bag by the straps and are about to turn, but you feel someone else watching you. Is it the same eyes as before?

… No. It’s someone different. Who could it be? Is it out of malice? You swivel yourself around to get a better look around the place, but you don’t see anyone. Maybe they’re hiding? You frown and take the pocket knife out of your pocket, starting to walk in between bookshelves to find that mysterious person.

The books seem to be dust-free as you drag your fingers across them. Some of the books happen to catch your eye, since they’re in a completely different language altogether, and you know damn well it’s not english. Or any human language for that matter. Maybe you can snatch one up and take it once you leave? It could sell for some good cash. Slipping the book out of it’s place, you analyze both the cover and it’s back, realizing slowly that there's no publisher or author at all. Huh.

You look up from the book to keep looking around, but your eyes meet with someone hiding behind a shelf, peering at you curiously. Well damn, that was fast. You’re already running into Oliver’s roomies. Now, who is this?

Hmm. That doesn’t look like a “Dalton”, maybe Edmund?

… Ah, no, he didn’t like that one. So he must be Alexander.

“You’re the visitor, aren’t you?” The man shuffles uncomfortably behind the bookshelf, and it doesn't take you long to notice his odd attire compared to Olivers. It looks like he’s wearing a sort of black shirt with some ribbons and frills, with a couple buttons unbuttoned at the top, exposing his chest. At the same time, you also take notice of the stuffed animal he’s holding, and raise a brow. It’s a big, fat chibi-like rabbit, with huge floppy ears, with several different colors of patching, ranging from a dark purple to a light green. His black hair covers his right eye a bit, and is sticking out in certain places.

You nod slowly, and he steps out the bookshe- Wow, he is pretty damn tall and muscular. He towers over you, but bends down a little to get a better look at you, and vice versa. His eyes are a light blue, mixed with a sort of light purple, and his lips part a bit in wonder. “A new visitor, it’s been so long…” He whispers and his face breaks into a big smile. “Do you hear that, Pochi? A new visitor. Say hi.” He brings the stuffed rabbit up to your face, and you giggle at his little gesture. Pochi’s so cute, with its little tongue sticking out. “Oh, Pochi, be nice.” He grumbles and pounds the stuffed animal on the head.

Oh. Did it just move? You shudder at the thought of a rabid stuffed animal chasing you around, but return his smile once you see that it’s returned.

“Uhm, so, what’re you still doing here? In the library, I mean.” He asks, tilting his head to the side as he looks at you. “You’ve been here for, uhm…” He reaches up and fidgets with some locks of his air, still holding Pochi in his left arm. “Did you happen to be here with Oliver?” You nod, and watch his mouth shift into a frown. “He didn’t make any sort of advances on you, did he?”

Uh.

Should you lie?

Alex sees your hesitation, and takes that as a yes. His brows furrow and he clicks his tongue in annoyance. “Ugh, he’s so pushy. If you my want advice, stay away from him. And stay away from Dalton too.” As soon as Dalton's name leaves his mouth, he scowls and hugs Pochi tighter to his chest. If Pochi really is alive, I don’t think Pochi would feel very comfortable right now. “Dalton would just toy with you, and then possibly pull your hair out while he’s at it. He’s no good.” So this is why Alex and Dalton fight often, there's clear dislike here.

If he doesn’t like Oliver or Dalton, how is Edmund?

“Oh, Edmund? Uhm,” The candle’s amber lights flicker again, and he sighs. “He’s okay, I guess. He’s too… Flattering with guests, but he's better than the other two.”

You purse your lips, and he suddenly looks away, bashful. “Uhm.” So does everyone just hate everyone else here? How has this mansion been standing for so long? You sigh and start to walk past him, feeling the chill of his body as you pass by. “Wait, where are you going?” He murmurs and starts to float beside you, still clutching onto Pochi.

You don’t even know yourself, but anywhere but here.

“Oliver told you to stay here, didn’t he? Is that why you’re leaving? You don’t want to see him?” It’s the partial truth, but that's enough. You nod and start to make a break toward the stairs, but he grabs your arm. He’s really cold too. “Wait, ah…” Alex tugs you closer to him, pressing you against both Pochi and himself. Yeesh. It's so chilly. "Come to the sewing room. It, uh, happens to be close to mine, and no one goes there except for me. You won’t find Edmund, but you can relax and just pass the time there until he’s available. He’s probably with Oliver solving the magic issue.”

Ugh, who the hell can you trust in this house? But it’s not like you’re going to get far running away from him, maybe he’ll send Pochi after you if it’s really alive. You agree, and watch a small smile form on his features. “Good, that's good. Come with me.” With a light tug of your arm, he leads you out of the library, peering into the hallway to make sure no one else is passing by. “It’s not a long walk, we’ll be fine.”

“What do I think is going on?” Alex fidgets with Pochi’s arm as he speaks. “It’s probably a couple of the servant spirits. Oh, you don’t even know what they are.” He laughs a little and points to the left, signaling you to keep walking in that direction. The candles keep flickering as you two pass by. “They’re a sort of lesser being than us, but they still have their own thoughts and feelings. One of them isn’t enough to overpower the magic here, but if a large group of them start fighting, it does make things flicker here and there.” he says. “They’ve been having arguments too, recently. Would you like to hear the reason why?” He has your attention. Now, what’s the reason?

“A group of them were cleaning Edmund’s study, and some of them had spilled ink on some of his manuscriptures. They’re all really devoted to their work, you see. Any mistake that they make is punishable to the highest degr-” He suddenly stops in his tracks, and puts a finger to his lips. “Do you hear that?” He smiles, and suddenly there's a loud bang that echoes throughout the hall, along with some yelling and mystical laughter. The laughter doesn’t sound like Oliver. “Those are the spirits laughing. I guess this fight wasn’t too serious.”

He stops in front of two double doors, but instead of the gold engravings that the library had, the wood is black with a large engraving of some creature you can’t comprehend. He holds his hand out to the knob, a small click signaling to him that the doors open, and he twists the handle. “This is, er, my personal work room. Though, I don’t have anything out at the moment…” He pushes the door open, and a large chandelier lights, showcasing the ballroom-like room to you. There’s a large row of mannequins on the left side of the room, and papers scattered all over. A nice patchwork sofa stands on the right side of the room, alongside a side chair covered in the same patchwork. “Oh no…” He whispers and lets go of your arm, rushing over to clean up every paper. You flinch as the door loudly shuts behind you by itself, but you don’t hear the lock click. A good mental note.

“I’m sorry, I forgot I, uh, hadn’t cleaned up from last night.” Just a single look at papers lets you know that he was designing outfits for Pochi to wear. The sketches look similar to how his current outfit looks, with the same black frills snd everything. Ah, did he want him and Pochi to match?

How cute.

“Sorry, it’s just something I’ve been working on to pass the time. One can only play piano and bake for so long.” Alex throws the papers onto a random desk, and he awkwardly smiles. “Come, sit.” He sets Pochi aside on the chair, and takes a seat on the sofa, patting the spot next to him. God, it’s like Pochi is staring into your soul. “Pochi never likes wearing clothes. He always tears it off, so I’m trying to design something comfortable for him.” He fidgets with the frills on his sleeves as you take a seat, and takes a glance at Pochi, before returning his gaze back to you.

So Pochi is alive? Good to know.

Ah, wait a minute, does he design human clothes? Or just for stuffed animals? Well, he does have mannequins, but they’re all naked. Maybe he was planning to design something?

“Oh, well, yes I do, but I haven’t had a model recently.” He frowns. “I used to design clothes for Edmund, but only twice.” He stops and gazes at you, opening his mouth to say something, but he closes it, disregarding the thought. But he still doesn’t break his gaze.

Was he going to ask you to be his model?

“Uhm, no, it’s nothing. It’s just that you would make a good model…” His voice loses its touch as he goes on, and he starts to blabber out endlessly. You can’t even get a word in. “You’re very pretty. I like your hair, your eyes, your skin. I could dress you up forever in outfits and you would look just as beautiful as the last, uhm,” Oh god, what the hell? His eyes pierce into you, and you can’t help but notice the little fidgeting habit he has once he starts to ramble. “You have very nice teeth and lips, I love to see you when you smile.” You look away from him, not sure whether or not to feel flustered or scared. He might mean well by it, but does he have to word it like that? You jump once you feel his cold fingers graze your collarbone, and you glance back at him to find him much, much closer than you would’ve preferred.

But to be completely honest with yourself, you don’t mind. You didn’t really mind Oliver either. They’re both, admittedly, really, really handsome.

Ugh, get your head out of the gutter.

His lips part as he climbs on top of you, breathing hard. You stumble back on the couch, feeling your pocket knife fall out of your pocket, as you gaze up at him. “I love your beating heart, right here.” Wait, wait. Your hearts pounding all in your head. It hurts. It hurts. It hurts.

Why does this feel so familiar? Has this happened before?

“You would make a good doll for me.” He whispers lovingly in your ear, sugaring his words just enough to make you melt. It’s hard to hold back. “Wouldn’t that be wonderful?” It sounds so nice. You could get drunk off of this feeling.

His lips brush against yours as he pants, kissing you gently as you lock your legs around him. “Oh, sweetheart…” He groans, your whole body feeling like it’s on fire as he nibbles desperately at your bottom lip. Your hand reaches up to the nape of his neck, and his to your hip. You can feel his warm tongue against yours, and you roll your eyes up in pleasure.

Why were you ever thinking about leaving? Of course you could be his model. It’s not like you have anything outside this mansion anyway waiting for you. Alex's here for you. That’s all you really need after all.

… Something in your head is telling you to stop, but should you? Ah. Wait.

You break the kiss with him, panting heavily as he looks down at you in confusion. “What? What’s wrong sweetheart?” He asks, his confusion turning into concern. You shake your head and get up, brushing yourself off. Oh jeez. What was that fuzzy feeling in your head just now?

Was he kissing you? You reach a hand up to your lips and feel your cheeks get hot. You glare down at him on the couch and scowl. Are you kidding me?

Alex looks away with a small chuckle, and you can feel your anger bubbling. “Partial possession,” He starts, “If you really didn’t want to kiss me, your mind would’ve taken control over your body and broken the connection.”

What?

He looks up at you with an odd grin, and he exclaims out in joy. “S-So you see? You truly want me, don’t you?!” His hands are trembling in excitement as he talks to you, laughing insanely at his own delusion. “You do, right, visitor?!”

Is it a delusion? Even if his words are true, he… Ugh!

“Ah, wait!” He yells as you quickly bound out the room, but taking a swift glance back, you notice that he’s not making an effort to stop you. The last glimpse you get of Alex is him peering out from the sewing room, the same way he was gazing at you behind the bookshelf.

You don’t even know where you’re running now. But it’s not like you care anyway. Fuck your backpack, fuck everything in there. It’s time to leave.

You run down a side pair of stairs leading down to the main hall, but you end up in a completely random hallway that you haven’t seen before. All of these corridors are starting to look the same, it’s getting confusing.

You peer into the empty hallway, and have to bite your lip to stop yourself from screaming.

It’s the same exact figure that was looking for you before.

ミ★ 𝘢𝘶𝘵𝘩𝘰𝘳𝘴 𝘯𝘰𝘵𝘦𝘴. ★彡

✧─── ･ ｡ﾟ★: *.✦ .* :★. ───✧

happy spooky month everyone! gonna be writing about some ghost (spirit? poltergeist? idk) boys these next few weeks :) 4 to be exact!

planning this to be a 7 part series, 2 for the intro (this one), then 4 (one for each boy), and then 1 for the finale :)

this first part you get to meet two boys, and then the next part you get to meet the other two!!

you’ll get to learn more about each boy with each part, and maybe yall will get to smash idk

i promise the next part will be shorter <;)

i dont even like how this one turned out but boohoo i gotta post, maybe ill rewrite it or smth

part 2 is here!

[fiercerdeities]

part 3 of things they should modify/include in a True remake of Ocarina of Time, as told by me and my bias (part one / part two)

let Link talk to more fairies! let them be environmental guides and have nifty little facts about the region

and speaking of fairies, let's talk about the Great Fairies. make their fountains elaborate mazes that only the absolutely determined can solve. do i want to turn everything into a dungeon? yes! but a lot of the dungeon ideas are really just bonus content

let's do side quest/mini games with the owl. he helps you fly down Death Mountain, it's be cool to navigate him yourself and collect things as you fly down, maybe for a piece of heart!

for the Skulltula House, that should DEFINITELY be a mini dungeon, and each of the 5 family members are spread across it and you have to find them to receive your prize for freeing them. they'll reappear in the main entrance of the house once you've freed each from their curse. when you've freed the whole family, the house is renovated!

about the medallions tho instead of being generic coins they should be items that have some kinda emotional relevance tie between Link and the sage he's receiving it from

a more empathetic Impa, a member of the Sheikah who would know the history of the incarnation cycle and previous heroes, to Link who is but a child unlike some before him.

a more complex and unique design to the thieves' hideout in Gerudo Desert—as well as a more difficult Haunted Wasteland

let's raise the overall difficulty of the game tbh, it inspired the likes of many open world/adventure games like Dark Souls, an infamously difficult series, the least a true remake could do is add difficulty selection from the get-go

returning to the barriers inside Ganondorf's Castle for a sec, i'd love for the barriers to be more illusory, designs as pocket-dimensions of the Sage they represent/the temple they mock

speaking of Ganondorf's Castle, Zelda should be a more active participant in escaping and not just be left to being the damsel in distress. she'd been a ninja for 7 years for god's sake. gimme a BREAK.

[bananasofthorns]

HELLO BANA may I have a 🌧️ and a 🌪️ for the WIP ask game 👀

(The answers do not have to be from the same WIP bc I think it’s funnier if it isn’t) <3<3

HELLO ROY i will do two different fics just for you

🌧️: Share something angsty from your WIP.

this is from loose bolts, which is my fic in which Fox gets reconditioned and it sets off a domino effect that saves the galaxy. you know, just fun and goofy things!

“I’m...sorry for pushing about Fox, earlier,” Rex adds. He sounds gentle. Thorn goes still. “I didn’t actually think— I thought the Jedi had stopped the reconditionings and decommissionings.” Ice shoots through Thorn’s veins. “Maybe they did for you, but they don’t outrank the Chancellor,” he says coldly. Rex mutters something that might be a curse, but it’s too quiet for his microphone to pick up. “I’m sorry, vod. My general...well, he’s not happy about this, let’s put it that way. We’ll see what we can do.” Thorn presses a hand over his eyes. He’s heard about General Skywalker’s stubbornness, temper, and tendency to get his way, but...this is Palpatine. Stone always jokes that he thrives on the suffering the Guard is put through, except it isn’t really a joke. Every time Thorn has talked to Palpatine in person, there’s been a vicious sort of pleasure in his smile, right behind his sickly-sweet, insincere kindness. They won’t be able to do anything.

we get a little silly. a little goofy, even

🌪️: Sum up a WIP with a few fic tropes/Ao3 tags.

I will use surviving in the city of dust for this one! it's not actually one fic but instead the name of the series I'm going to put all of my Coruscant's Haunted™ fics in. the main tags/tropes to sum it up would be: epistolary, horror (of various types), implied/referenced character death, and crack treated seriously (only for some of them. the rest are just straight up horror)

wip ask game

[sarcophagid]

you said senju rebirth and got my full attention

ok it's still being worked on bcz i got the idea like, this morning 😭 so the idea exists as a bunch of questions but basically:

in the bonten timeline senju dies in drakens place - july 7th 2008. reincarnated that same night (?). 10 years later, kanto becomes bonten. sanzu and kakucho are assigned on a job to negotiate with some sort of mob family (?). the head's daughter is referred to as a 'princess' because her birthday is 7/7 (on the lunar calendar, this day is a festival celebrating the folklore romance of 2 deities, one being the princess, orihime) (also a reference to senju being called the 'princess' of brahman lol).

im still deciding on the following:

does senju remember her past life? (i think it would be more interesting if she did, but i sort of want to have the memories come in bits and pieces over the course of the story rather than knowing everything from the start. maybe as dreams? also senju is a character who wanted a good life, but circumstances barred her from that and a lot of people were taking advantage of her power; so having another shot at life but still being in a situation where she can't be free is rlly tragic T-T i want to give her a happy ending. i havent decided on the end or whether i'll write it or if ill just draw a few comics or smth)

^(another thing is that her personality and character in general will likely be dramatically different from who she was before. like, juggling fragments of a stranger that is you, but also decidedly not-you. there are a lot of directions this could go in!)

how she got reborn... (idk how much i want to lean into the supernatural part of tr with this one bcz i don't want to think abt the rules of magic here.)

but these i think i will add in the story:

senju haunting her family really bad, accidentally at first then a little bit intentionally later

i wanted to have the major characters revolve around a one word idea, ex. mikey - death. senju's would then be vengeance. (not revealing sanzu and kakuchos yet). idk i wanted to explore what each character thought was fair/just, bcz bonten is usually seen as the worst corrupted versions of the characters.

i digress lmfao, the next part is hard to explain but: mikey killed the person who (though not fully intentionally) had senju killed. senju's death was unfair, and it seems that having the opposition killed was an act of revenge, but there was no intent of revenge. south's death was an arbitrary act of violence brought on by a 'curse'. what did shinichiro's karma from killing an unrelated stranger have to do with south? the conflict was about people, their wills and desires, the human justice; but it's execution was more like a random act of nature.

unrelated: i wanted to give senju a friend or smth bcz shes literally all alone in the world, and she does later consider kakucho friend/family-ish but thats in development still

[sapphictealeaf]

AO3 Fic Meme, tagged by @girlonthelasttrain :DDD

1. What rating do you write most of your fics under?

General Audiences (22)

2. What are your top three fandoms?

....Dream SMP (15), the numbers are every so slightly inflated because that was the fandom i happened to post/finish the most fics for, but i also was just reeeeally into DSMP during 2021/2022

3. What is the top character you write about?

Unsurprisingly, TommyInnit (13), the next non-DSMP character is Poe Dameron with 5 so i guess i found something truly captivating in the concept of tommy as a character

4. What are the top three pairings you write about?

......TommyInnit & Wilbur Soot (9) the curse of having been really active in a fandom that became fucking radioactive

5. What are the top three additional tags?

Canon Compliant (16), with Angst (13) and Hurt/Comfort (12) very close behind

6. Did any of this surprise you?

Not really, but mostly because I've looked at my statistics every so often when I get bored. It's really weird with the whole DSMP stuff because I can only talk about it with others who were in the trenches with me and who I know did not have freak ass opinions, as well as the fact that half of the content creators that were part of it I can't even think about without feeling about a bajillion volts zapping my brain. I don't want to be ashamed of it, but I know how weird it often looks to outsiders.

BUT at the same time it was such a big time for me writing-wise. I'm still so incredibly proud of some of the writing I did back then, I improved so much from the sheer frequency at which I was writing and rereading my stuff and just, well, also just growing up as a person a little bit, but also I never felt so inspired as with the dynamics both between characters but also the concept of the characters as individuals. I think this was largely due to the improvisational nature and inconsistent lore from the dozens of conflicting content creators, so it was kind of up to each individual fan/viewer to imply or add elements onto the existing material.

Admittedly, I was trying to stick to what we were given as much as possible, but I mean there was so much room for interpretation that it couldn't possibly have remained "true" to the source material entirely. Hence the 16 tags of canon compliance (most of them were for DSMP), that was always important to me. So many people would write AUs and rewrites and canon divergences that it like... basically became RPF and that wasn't really my vibe. (Ironically, a lot of my fics are still tagged RPF in the fandom because I didn't understand AO3 tagging and was trying to make my works easily searchable, I really should remove the tags)

Anyway who gives a fuck about DSMP! Not me! *hides the massive folders upon folders in my google drive under the big folder labelled MCYT*

Here's to hoping for more lesbians in my statistics soon, maybe next year I'll have racked up some more, who knows!

I wouldn't know who to tag so if this Somehow comes across your dash then feel free to do it and tag me! I'd love to see others perhaps having slightly less haunted and cursed answers LMAO

[riddlerxl]

It is always Nice to see you Says the man Behind the counter

PART 2

Pairing: Edward Nashton | the Riddler x GN!Reader

Rating: Mature (18+)

Word Count: 713

Warnings: brief implied mentions of murder and porn.

Summary: You frequent a certain diner that brings you comfort and a sense of routine within the unforgiving walls of Gotham city. All is well until someone new begins to invade said routine.

A/N: First time writing an Edward Nashton/Riddler x reader so forgive me if it is not the best! I expect this to be more of a series so this is just a little teaser. >:p also unedited currently so there may be some errors ;-;

1:34 AM, Monday morning.

The usual crowd washes out around 12 AM which leaves only a few stragglers left in the diner. Now only caffeine fiends are seen gulping down the stale brew of some generic coffee. The windows are painted by the constant downpour that plagues the city of Gotham.  All of the muted colors surrounding you bring an odd sense of comfort. This is the last spot in Gotham where you feel safe.

You decide to sit at a far corner table away from the door. Last thing you need is to become another name in the Gotham obituary. Sprawled across the table in front of you are notebooks, your laptop, Misery by Stephen King, and a half eaten slice of pecan pie. If it wasn’t for your semi-presentable appearance you’d be mistaken for a drifter. The reason you even step foot in this diner is due to the fact that your apartment has seen better days. Every single night there are screaming matches coming from the couple next door which develops into the sounds of near pornographic moans. If you could, you would move; however, you’re stuck in a twelve month lease.

A police car flies by, sirens blaring, causing you to snap out of whatever trance you were in. You look up to see that a new person has joined the late night crowd. A lanky man in a green bomber jacket. He was not a regular at this hour. You kept a mental note with nicknames for each and every person. This man was different. What you did not expect was to accidentally lock eyes with him. His gaze felt nauseating. You wonder how long he had noticed your staring.

Quickly, you avert your eyes back down to your laptop. The screen is black, reflecting a distorted image of yourself. Something about the man made your insides scream danger; nevertheless, you ignore it. Jamming your right index finger on the space key, the screen lights back up. It is only illuminated for a moment before an image of an empty battery flashes. You shut the laptop in closested frustration, moving to grab the book you had brought with.

1:34 AM, Monday Morning, two weeks later.

It appears that this man is now a part of the diner scenery. You two share glances every so often. His indirect company has caused you to abandon your table, moving to sit by the bar. Your clutter has been reduced to Misery and your laptop. While your attention rests upon the novel, you did not notice the mystery man bring out a book of his own.

When you needed to take a break from reading, you turned to him. The novel was Gerald’s Game by Stephen King. This piqued your interest. Maybe you had the wrong idea about him. Maybe all he needed was a friend. Hell, that’s what you needed in this depressing city.

“Isn’t it strange that King dedicated that book to his wife?” You start, clearing your throat.

He looks at you with confusion plaguing his face. The two of you stare at one another until he decides to speak up.

“Yes.” His voice is soft but laced with meager certainty. It cuts through the suffocating atmosphere with ethereal qualities.

“Well… you chose a good novel.” You add.

There was silence between the two of you. Both unsure of what to say next. The man stares at you with counterfeit innocence. Something felt perverse. You curse yourself out pensively for even saying a word to the man. You clear your throat and ask for your check. Maybe your serine safe space was just another dangerous spot haunted by the ghosts of Gotham.

“I recommend Zombie by Joyce Carol Oates if you want a story that is strange.” He offers, looking down at his own book. “Main character is based on Jeffrey Dahmer. The book is fiction; however, isn’t it sick to continue a mad man’s ‘legacy’ through the guise of a made up story?”

You nod in agreement. Maybe your space was safe. He’s just another book worm, albeit a little strange. But who in Gotham city was normal? Definitely not you.

“I’m Y/N.”

“Edward.” You catch a flash of excitement in his eyes, “I’m Edward.”

( PART 2 )

[astaroth1357]

Demigod MC Series: Athena

So. I have to deal with the virgin goddesses… By mythos, there really shouldn't ever be children of Artemis, Hestia, or Athena (yes, Athena was a virgin goddess). PJ got past that by making it canon that Annabeth and her siblings were born from cracking open Athena's skull (yes, that's also more or less the canon explanation). They gloss over it real quick but I remember, Rick. I've always remembered and that mental image has haunted me for years...

I can't, in good conscience, ignore the history around Athena's worship (call it an academic restraint) but I REFUSE to do the skull thing. So, since I make the rules here, I'm going with magic adoption. They still get magic powers, they're just more human than demigod. Cool? Cool.

Demigod MC Series: Intro, Aphrodite, Hermes, Hades, Dionysus, Demeter, Athena

Lucifer

The human that popped out of the portal seemed to have enough sense not to attack everyone in the room for a change, but even Lucifer could tell that was more of a strategic choice than for lack of ability...

Their very existence was highly unusual… and quite worrisome. He wasn't even aware Athena could have "children" of her own, but apparently she had been taking in some particularly bright humans to raise and train like her own...

Unbeknownst to him, a surprising amount of human scholars, diplomats, and generals have her to thank for their trade… and that alone should speak to the level of intrigue at play here. 

Was this an accident or Athena's attempt to plant an Olympian spy in the Devildom too…? Either way, he didn't trust them from the get go…

Look, Lucifer isn’t stupid. Athena is a goddess of Wisdom and War and war happens on more than just the battlefield… 

Since they've shown up records have been going missing, official documents keep getting misplaced, and he swears that there's some kind of bug in the student council room...!

It's infuriating watching the MC suck up to Diavolo when he's almost certain that they're running their own agenda behind the scenes! And he can't prove any of it!! They cover their tracks too well!

Lucifer has one of those corkboards covered in newspapers and string in a secret wing of the Castle - 100% dedicated to just tracking the MC's activities…. The longer they're there, the more obsessed he becomes...

He swears between Simeon, Solomon, and MC he feels like a shepherd wondering why the sheep are growling… The Devildom has never been in more danger than it is right now... Send help.

Mammon

To be honest, he kind of thought that they were just going to be Satan 2.0 but that's not really true.

They're more than just a book sponge! Though they do read, like a lot. Let’s just say from one schemer to another… Game recognizes Game.

They come up with plans and ideas soooo fast, it’s insane! Honestly, there are times where he has a new money-making plot and he just brings it to the MC first to run it over. 

Nine times out of ten, not only do they sniff out any problems but they have a solution for him in a matter of minutes! His scheme game has been on point since they’ve shown up!!

They’re also even better tutoring than Satan is, so he’s even managed to get a couple A’s for the first time in his life! Lucifer actually told him he was proud (which he secretly recorded and now uses as a ringtone much to his brother’s regret...)

So yeah, he likes them... buuut that doesn’t keep him from thinking they act a little weird sometimes... 

Mammon: *points to a unused tower close to the RAD building* Over there is the Tower of Sorrow. We use it for storage.

MC: Ah. Interesting… *starts writing in a notebook, muttering* It may need a few minor tweaks but the location is defensible...

Mammon: *stops* Ya say somethin’?

MC: *looks back up* Nope! Say, you’ve been to the Castle a lot haven’t you? Do you know any good ways in?

Mammon: Uhm… Why do ya want to know that…? *starts looking around for Lucifer*

MC: In case of emergencies. I like being prepared. 🙂

Mammon: Look, I don’t know what Lucifer might’a told ya…

MC: I’ll pay you a thousand Grimm for it.

Mammon: Well shit, ya want those maps with or without color?

... Yeeeah, that’s pretty weird… But it’s probably fine. I mean, as long as they keep giving him money, who’s he to complain? 🤷‍♀️

Leviathan

Also thought that they’d be a lot more like Satan but was pleasantly surprised that they were into more than books.

What else did they like exactly? Military strategy!!

It’s been a looong time since he’s been able to talk to someone who’s actually interested in all the battles he’s fought, both in the Celestial Realm and the Devildom, and their curiosity is kind of flattering...! Not a lot of people take his strategic prowess all that seriously anymore...

Plus, they are the BEST partner to have any turn-based strategy game. Hands down. He once got stuck on a level of D-COM for weeks until the MC walked in and mopped the floor with the AI!! They have a serious head for probability and tactics.

The House once made the mistake of letting these two be on the same team during a Hell Game and they absolutely demolished the competition. Mammon didn’t even get a single shot off before half his team was lost to a rigged paint grenade… It took a whole day to clean up… 

However, Levi’s also noticed some odd things about the human… He likes that they’re interested in his past but maybe they’re a little… too interested?

Levi: -and that’s how we defeated the Four Horsemen before they escaped from Purgatory. 

MC: Wow, Levi that’s seriously impressive!! *furiously scribbling on a notebook*

Levi: Well t-thanks… 😅 But, uhm... are you writing that down…?

MC: Hm? Oh no, just doodling. *they lift up the notebook to show a bunch of cute little sketches on the page… and not the magic-based invisible ink all over them…*

Levi: Oh you draw too? Can you do fanart???

MC: Eh, sometimes. But say Levi, can you tell me about your naval ranks again? I’m still really curious… *gets the pen ready again with a smile*

Satan

Oh, it's been a long game of cat-and-mouse between these two… and unfortunately, it’s been pretty addicting too.

He honestly had every intention of tricking the human into making a huge mess do he could bother Lucifer, but at every turn they proved just a hair too clever for him...

He once gave them a cursed book to “lend” to Lucifer, but they saw through it the moment they touched it and lifted the spell before handing it over.

He rigged a podium to spray glitter during one of Lucifer's speeches but the MC disconnected the trigger mic before he even got on stage. It was pretty dang frustrating...

At one point he got so desperate that, just as a test, he tried to trap them in the House's Music Room. Fortunately for them, it only took a few minutes to work out an escape. They even passed by him in the hallway with a wink!

It's confounding! It's infuriating!! 

...and it's so damn sexy... He should be furious but he’s just in awe!!

Add on that they know their art, literature, and multiple different crafts thanks to the tutelage of their adopted mother and that’s it. He’s finished. This boy is in love.

Truthfully though, a part of him is 90% sure that they’re also gathering state secrets… Like, they’re watching Barbs and Diavolo far too close for comfort - but he just can't bring himself to care. 🤷‍♀️

The MC could walk into his room one day and say, "Hey, do you want to help overthrow the monarchy with me?" and he dreads it because deep down he knows that he wouldn’t say no…

Take some notes, kids. Some bad influences get you to drink or do drugs. Others pull you into a centuries long conspiracy to destabilize and topple rival realms from within… But he has fallen for their brain hard. Devil help them all…

Asmodeus 

They’re pretty clever, he’ll give them that, but uh… Are they a little off to anybody else?

Asmo is a charmer by birthright so he has a bit of nose for when someone’s just a liiittttle too nice… Not much of a nose mind you, because he can be thrown off by compliments himself, but enough to think that the MC might be a little too… “kind” for their own good...

First off, who wants to spend that much time with Levi?? They don’t even seem that interested in anime! They just keeping asking him for old war stories…

Then all the sucking up they do to Diavolo and Barbatos? Look, he gets it. Diavolo is a delicious piece of man-hunk and his butler could give him a lesson or two in sweet-talk (and he has), but they seem to be just a little too… nosy.

Of course, Asmo’s suspicions disappear pretty quickly after they start to spoil him with spa nights and beauty secrets they picked up from “casual research” into the subject.

And you know, get a little Demonus in Asmo and start massaging his back? Oh, sweetie he’ll sing like a bird!! … with gossip. Singing with gossip.

Asmo: So I’ve heard that Lucifer has been spending more time at RAD than usual… His whole club is talking about it, they think he’s meeting with some witch!

MC: Hm, is that so? *works on a knot near his shoulder blades* What do you think?

Asmo: Ooh~! Right there, MC! *purrs and lays his head on his arms* Well come on, this is Lucifer we’re talking about! I’m sure he’s just working.

Asmo: Hmm... though come to think of it, I think I heard him asking Barbatos for the spare keys to the Tower of Sorrow…

MC: Oh really? Huh. *works out the knot and gets up* I just remembered that I left some papers with Satan... I’ll be right back.

Asmo: You’re going already??

MC: *waves him off quickly* I’ll be right back, Asmo. *hurries out the door to do totally on-the-up-and-up things… surely*

Beelzebub 

Honestly he doesn't like this one… But not for the reasons you'd expect.

He agrees with everyone else that they seem a little shady, but Solomon and Simeon are too so it's not like that's anything new... 🤷‍♀️

No, no. He dislikes them because they're the person who FINALLY figured out how to keep him from eating all the food in the kitchen!!

Turns out that the trick was to put a teleportation charm on the fridge door that would send all the food away if it’s opened after a certain time of night… 

And where does it go? The Purgatory Hall fridge. And where does the Purgatory Hall food go…? The HoL fridge…

It doesn’t sound so bad until you remember that it means half of their fridge is now Solomon’s leftovers…. 🤢

After they put the same kind of spell on the pantry, it was all over… He couldn't get midnight snacks from the House anymore… Everything was contaminated by Solomon…

The MC is a nice enough person, he doesn’t have a lot of complaints about them, but he wants them to leave. Now. This is inexcusable… He’s so hungry… and he doesn’t want to die by “goulash” or whatever Solomon calls his latest culinary catastrophe… He’s still too young for death… 😓

Belphegor 

In a way, he absolutely could not have asked for a better person to help him get out of that attic.

… In another way, he got one of the worst possible people to try and kill... Like. They saw through his scheme sooo fast…

How was he supposed to know that the human had training in body language and sniffing out lies???

Getting the door open was a piece of cake for them. They knew enough magic to undo the seals and just rummaged around Lucifer's stuff long enough to find the key to the door. He could not have found a more competent individual for a break out, really.

It’s just… well he didn’t expect to go from locked in a room like a prisoner to tied up in enchanted rope, still like a prisoner but now mobile. 😑 

They even used his own hug ruse against him! They caught his wrists when they got close and tied him up before he could shake them off...

Admittedly, it wasn't exactly the best look for them either - what with walking Belphegor downstairs to the others like a one-man-prison-caravan but they're as silver-tongued as they are sly so they talked their way out of it beautifully… 

And like hell was he going to trust them after that!! And not even Beel liked them so something had to be up...

Well, you want a detective? Look no farther than Belphie (no seriously, it’s in the canon). He can put things together pretty fast when he puts his mind to it and watching the MC for a while gave him enough proof to work off of...

He always knew that, humans were bad news and the MC just proved it to him all over again. They are bad news, bad bad news and they’re going to-!

Overthrow… Diavolo…? Is that what he is getting from them…? Huh…

Wait a second, MC. You might just have him interested… 😏

[hinaypod]

The Hi Nay Character Playlist

As requested from our Hi Nay discord server, I’ve compiled some of the songs I was listening that served as inspiration for characters, events and arcs in Hi Nay, in no particular order. 

.You can listen to the playlist here.

More details below: 

Bottom of the River by Delta Rae ~ “theme song” for Episode 20 - Siga, aka the Campfire Episode. This gave me a camping vibe with the added bonus of feeling like I wanted to add a scene where they sang around a campfire. Never ended up putting that into the episode, but the vibes for this are immaculate. 

Rule #21 - Momento Mori by Fish In A Birdcage ~ I recently got fully obsessed with some of the songs by Fish In A Birdcage, a fantastic alternative indie band, many of whose songs you will find on this playlist. Momento Mori in particular was inspired by the Elders, specifically Giuliano Bartalotti, The Benefactor, and George Langford, all because of their proximity to death. 

Esmeralda by Adriel Genet ~ Basically the theme song of the entire puppetmaster arc, specifically The Puppetmaster / The Doctor / Drosselmeyer. I was suprised that this was a lesser known song, it sounds like something that would have really blown up. Glad to hype it up here, it has the PERFECT vibe for this specific part of the story, especially in that it makes me imagine the ballet-loving Drosselmeyer dancing gracefully to the musical interlude. 

Rule #4 - Fish in a Birdcage by Fish In A Birdcage ~ The song the band apparently named itself after (or vice versa), Fish In A Birdcage is my favourite song as of 2022, and tops my On Repeat playlist. The song is truly perfect. The lyrics of the song specifically focus on the story of Mary-Anne Weekes, whose full story has yet to be told. In the story, so far, she is known as the “Good Elder” who created Good Foci, and was CJ’s lover. She was also the only member of the Ordo who was non-white (or non-white passing). Her locket protects Laura in Episode 3. 

We Forgot We Were Human by Dirt Poor Robbins ~ An incredibly catchy song that I just enjoyed listening to during recent arcs, this particular song seems to illustrate the Elders quite nicely. No specific arc - this is just the Elders and their motivations, at least as we know them currently. 

The Haunted Phonograph by Thoushaltnot, Seeming ~ No character in particular. I just thought this song was a fun one that matched the general vibe of Hi Nay, and the Foci being cursed objects. Somewhat connected to Mary-Anne for reasons that will later be revealed. May include a cursed phonograph in a future episode. Who knows? 

The Dismemberment Song by Blue Kid ~ The primary inspiration for the Cannibal pair of episodes - Episode 18 - Katay, and Episode 19 - Lamon. Her name, by the way, is Minerva The Cannibal. 

Sun Goes Down by David Jordan ~ Just how I imagine the theme song for a Hi Nay TV show would be. It’s poppy, but it also has the beat that reminds me of traditional dances in the Philippines. Also the lyrics feel like they would fit for a TV series about creepy things happening in a city. 

Rule #7 - Angel Tango by Fish In A Birdcage ~ The lesson here is to listen to Fish In A Birdcage. Anyway, this song was inspired by the sort of thematic dance between The Puppetmaster and The Benefactor. It’s a little bit of both of their characters, in some ways. 

Rule #9 - Child Of The Stars by Fish In A Birdcage ~ A song about Ashvin, the fake Guru Mahadev. He has a compelling history and I want to write more about him, though it doesn’t fit in the current plot. He’s been one of my favourite characters concept-wise, and I want to dedicate more to him as a character. 

I’ll be adding more songs to this playlist, maybe moving songs around. Hope you all enjoy! 

[thewhizzyhead]

a non-filipino's guide to trese: ep 1

So some of my mutuals decided to check out Trese aka the Netflix adaptation of the Filipino horror comic book series that I keep rambling about here and then since well um most of my mutuals aren’t from the Philippines fshfs I decided to make a long-ass post that basically consists of me rambling about the cultural context present in Trese with fun little tidbits about Filipino folklore. I’m not an expert on Filipino mythology so um I just typed out the stuff that I know and the stuff that I looked up on Wikipedia so um take this with a grain of salt aaaaa I’ll save the extensive google scholar research ramble on folklore present in Trese for another day.

I’ll try to find the sites where I got some of the information from cause um yea I kinda had a bit of a hard time finding the other shit so um once again, take the stuff here with a grain of salt. Also, feel free to add more info if you guys got any!

SO ANYWAYS ENJOY ME RAMBLING ABOUT EPISODE 1 OF TRESE WOO

+ MRT and LRT (Manila Metro Rail Transit and Light Rail Transit) are train systems in NCR (the capital region) and yea them suddenly stopping and malfunctioning in the middle of the goddamn rail is a daily occurrence and we have been trying to deal with this bullshit for years but alas, corruption and negligence are sweet sweet drugs.

+ When the MRT broke down, you'd see a red bee in the flashing billboard right? Well that's Jollibee and that's probably the most well-known fast food restaurant chain here heck there are even branches of it abroad!

+ According to many youtube comments along with other social media posts that I am way too tired to link here, the opening theme is an Ifugao ethnic song called Balluha'd Bayyauhen but with modern accompaniments and I think the song is about a fruit called a balluha that the character in the song tries to it but cannot swallow. (someone please correct me if I’m wrong here fjkfs)

+ The first um monster that we see Alexandra interact with is the White Lady of Balete Drive. White Ladies or “Kaperosa” are a type of female ghosts typically dressed in ghostly white dresses or similar garments. According to legend, she died in a car accident while driving along Balete Drive (a two lane street formerly lined with Balete Trees which are said to be a home for spirits and mysterious creatures) in Quezon City while other accounts say she died waiting for the arrival of her lover; others also say that she was a teenage girl who was run over and killed by a taxi driver at night and then buried around a Balete tree while another variation of the tale claims that a student from the University of the Philippines was sexually assaulted and killed by a taxi driver nearby and so said ghost haunts the street in search of her murderer. There are many other variations but according to local rumor, the legend was fabricated by a reporter in 1953 in order to make an interesting story. What remains consistent in many variations is that apparently taxi drivers would be stopped by a beautiful lady asking for a ride and if one would look at the rear window, they would see that the white lady in question is bruised and drenched in blood.

+ There are a lot of mentions about "lakans" and stuff in reference to Alex and her father right? In precolonial times, the term is used to refer to the paramount ruler or the highest-ranking political authorities in Tagalog communities (so um NCR and some parts of Region 4). In Muslim communities, they are called sultans while communities with strong trade connecitons with Indonesia or Malaysia called them Rajah. Datu is umm the more generalized term though when it comes to discussing the leaders of the precolonial Filipinos.

+ So, Alex’s mom is a babaylan and back in the pre-colonial period, each barangay (which a native filipino term for a village or a district; said term is still used today to describe um divisions in municipalities like) had them and these are basically Philippine shamans and they specialized in communicating with the spirits of the dead. To my knowledge, the role of babaylan went to women and yea people assigned male at birth but then identified as female were also allowed to become babaylans and they would be treated with the same respect given to any woman back then (honestly I dunno much about lgbtq+ stuff back in the precolonial times but all I know is that precolonial Filipinos were much a lot more welcoming towards trans identities bUT THEN THE SPANIARDS CAME AND UM ERR RUINED THAT); also the writing Alexandra's mom did in that one scene with the dagger is in Baybayin - preHispanic Filipino script. I dunno what she wrote down though. .

+ Also I kinda find it funny that the people here esp those who were at the White Lady scene are um,,, not at all surprised? Like yea quite a number of filipinos have their own superstitions and beliefs and all that but um yea the people in Trese seem very used to the bullshit,,,which in retrospect, isn't at all inaccurate fsdfd I MEAN WE DEAL WITH UNSURMOUNTABLE AMOUNTS OF BS ON A DAILY BASIS SO I DON’T THINK DEAD GHOSTS WOULD EVEN FAZE MANY FSKJDS

+ The one that appears right before Alexandra talks with the duwende (the one in the manhole) is called Laman Lupa (which i guess translates to um "What is in the earth"? just um YEA THEY ARE DIRT CREATURES). normally this is an umbrella term for duwendes and nunos but in Trese they are servants of these aforementioned creatures.

+ Duwende (which came from the Spanish phrase "dueno de case" which means "owner of the house") or dwarves in Filipino folklore are known to be mischievous and magical environmental guardians. They are believed to reside in trees or under earth mounds (those that live in the latter are called nuno sa pundo or old man of the mount) which is why quite a lot of Filipinos say "tabi tabi po" or “excuse me” when wandering around a forest or earth mounds as a sign of respect and in the hopes the duwende won't torment them. If the person is friendly, the duwende can also be friendly in return and will bring that person good lucl; otherwise, those who destroy their homes by stepping on them will face their wrath in form of heartless curse and predictions of ominous and disastrous fates. A duwende's color also depends on their budhi or conscience: to my knowledge, white duwendes are kind, red ones give protection amulets, green ones are firnedly with children and the black ones give nothing but trouble.

+ Chocnut aka the snack Alex bribes the nuno with is a very yummy chocolate snack made of coconut milk, crushed peanuts and cocoa powder. They are umm about an inch in length and maybe half an inch in width so it's fairly small; that being said I WANT THE CHOCNUT THAT ALEXANDRA HAS CAUSE HOT DAMN THAT'S A BIG CHOCNUT

+ In Trese, the creatures in the MRT scene and in the warehouse Alexandra visits after she talks with the duwende are called "aswang". In Philippine folklore, it is an umbrella term for any kind of monster so um an aswang in Luzon would be very different from the aswang in Mindanao. According to what I saw on wikipedia, they can be classified in 5 categories: the vampire (self-explanatory um they drink blood), the viscera sucker (the manananggal, i'll get to that next time), the weredog (cats and pigs are also possible but um yea they target pregnant women), the witch (self-explanatory boom curses and stuff) and the ghoul (they gather near trees in cemeteries to feast on human corpses). Aswangs are often described to have a long, hollow tongue, sharp claws and sharp teeth, although they do also have human forms.

+ To my knowledge, Ibwa, the leader of the aswangs in the warehouse, is a creature from Tinguian or Itneg mythology (they, like the Ifugao, are an indigenous ethnic group in northwestern Luzon) though I could be wrong about this dksfsf Ibwa seems like an ethnic filipino term tho wah I can't remember where I once read that. But anyways, Ibwa often stalk sthe house of a dying person to steal its body. In order for the ibwa to NOT succeed in that, some people burn holes in the garments of the dead and put a sharp iron object on top of the grave since those are most powerful weapons against aswangs which is what Alexandra uses to subdue the Ibwa and kill all the other aswangs (the knife alex uses is named Sinag which means "ray of light".)

+ ALSO I AM SO SO GLAD THEY KEPT THE FILIPINO SWEARS IN THE ENGLISH DUB YES YES THIS IS A VERY GOOD JOB so lemme discuss the versatility of tangina-

+ Also umm Bossing is a nickname of Vic Sotto - one of the three pioneer hosts of Eat Bulaga! which is the longest running Philippine noontime variety show. Over time, most probably due to the show's popularity, the term "bossing" then became um slang for "boss" or "chief"

+ Translation of what Alex says when she's stirring the eye inside the cup: “In the eyes of others, secrets will reveal themselves.”

+ Sidenote: The English dub's pronunciation of many of the tagalog lines are um yea they r pretty good but they could use a bit of work but then again I'm really not that good in speaking in Tagalog so who am I to judge gkdkf sorry po guys conyo po ako-

+ Maria Makiling is arguably the most famous of all the diwatas (ancestral spirits, nature spirits, or deities) in Philippine Mythology; she is associated with Mount Makiling in Laguna as the guardian spirit of the mountain. Mount Makiling is said to resemble a profile of a woman and people associate the profile with Maria herself. She is also known as a goddess by the name of Dayang Masalanta and people would pray to her for safety and to stop storms and earthquakes. That's the goddess Alexandra's mother mentions right when she tells Alex to hide. (Translation to what she said there: Maria Makiling, goddess of the mountain, bless us.)

+ ALSO YEA THAT MAYOR IN THE MRT STATION IS UMMM RATHER REMINISCENT OF MAAAANY POLITICIANS AND PUBLIC SERVANTS HERE LIKE BELIEVE ME I CAN THINK OF SO MANY NAMES RN. THEY WOULD FLAUNT THEIR MACHISMO AND PROMISE THAT THEY THEMSELVES SHALL PUNISH THE PERPETRATORS HARSHLY BUT IN THE END THEY DONT MEAN SHIT AND ARE IN OFFICE TO SERVE ONLY THEMSELVES AND TO SHIT ON THE REST ESP THOSE OF THE POORER SECTORS AND *NOTHING IS DONE ABOUT IT*. WE LIVE IN HELL OKAY. also hmm how the police are represented here is umm,,,interesting,,, like i know there are sOME good police officers like the ones alexandra assists but like,,,our current sociopolitical climate + the many cases showcasing the corruption in the police force + tHE SHEER AMOUNT OF POLICE BRUTALITY HERE would ummm beg to differ. but um anyways-

+ Also Mang Inasal posters can be seen in the MRT station backdrops and um it’s a very famous restaurant chain here and they serve lots of barbecue and other filipino stuffs and i miss them a lot God their halo halo is very yummy

+ Santelmo - oki so this is the fire face thingy that Alexandra summons inside the ruined train. This is the shortened version of the term "Apoy ni Santa Elmo" or "St. Elmo's Fire" - this is a weather phenomenon wherein plasma is created from an electrical discharge from a rod like object in an atmospheric electric field. This phenomenon was used to warn of imminent lightning strikes or storms (there is a chapter in Noli Me Tangere where Pilosopo Tasyo talks about that bUT I'LL SAVE THE NOLI ME TANGERE RAMBLES FOR ANOTHER DAY). But according to Philippine folklore, santelmos - which are said to be souls of people lost as sea - are balls of fire that appear where accidents or big arguments happen. In Trese, santelmos (alex's santelmo being "The Great Spirit of the Binondo Fire") can be called to assist in supernatural investigations

+ Translation of what Alex says when she draws the circles to meet with the purple ghosts: "Souls, where are you off to? I'll be entering too, so please open the door."

+ Remember the scene at the train with all the purple ghosts and the woman in a veil? Yea the woman is an emissary of a goddess named Ibu and she is the Manobo (again, another indigenous ethnic group but this time they're from Mindanao; fun fact we have around 134 ethnic groups) goddess of deceased mortals and the queen of the underworld; she also serves as a psychopomp and guides the newly deceased souls to the other side (having an MRT be the ride to the underworld isn’t in the legends tho so fkkjsf)

+ The aswang in the top hat is called Xa Mul and according to the Isneg/Apayao people (yay another ethnic group but this time in northern Luzon - the Cordillera regions to be specific), they are an evil spirit known to swallow people whole.

+ Alex has two henchmen right? Yea they are named Crispin and Basillio and No I still don’t know who’s who and I'm really sorry about that fsfjs so anyways the names Crispin and Basillio are actually those of two brothers featured in the Noli Me Tangere and El Filibusterismo novels (Crispin is younger and Basilio is older) which are basically the national novels here cause um yea written by national hero Jose Rizal as sociopolitical commentary about the Spanish regime here. I don't know if I want to spoil this cause I kinda want other people to read the novel too fskfs BUT ALL IN ALL, ONE OF THEM DIES IN LIKE THE 10TH OR 11TH CHAPTER OF NOLI ME TANGERE (and the novel has 64 chapters btw) AND UM YEA-

+ OKI SO TO ADD MORE CONTEXT TO THE SQUATTER STUFFS MENTIONED IN TRESE (we r gonna use the tiny font here because holy shit this rant is long): So,in the Philippines, especially in the capital region, there are lots of slum areas called squatters. These are dense urban settlements made of compact makeshift housing units that aren't really officially recognized by the government. This is um very reflective of the poverty situation here and there are maaany factors that come into play here and if i were to go into depth about this topic, that rant would probably turn into an academic paper so for the sake of brevity, let's just say that Things Are Fucked Up Here. Oftentimes the poorer sectors are being ignored and left to their own devices despite tons of campaign promises to make things better and easier for them. The communities that live here are incredibly vulnerable to floods, fires, and the like and afaik no concrete solutions have been in effect to protect these people and their settlements. There have also been many times where squatter areas are dismantled or demolished despite protests of people living in those areas and yea I understand the need to make space and the need for renovation but the people should still be offered some sort of temporary settlement or financial compensation thingy that doESN'T fuck them over but alas, we have an anti-poor government. That being said, I really like Trese Ep 1's portrayal of governmental negligence, but I also have some thoughts, especially in regards to the mayor being arrested THAT FAST which um believe me, NEVER FUCKING HAPPENS BECAUSE MANY MAYORS AND A LOT OF POLITICIANS HAVE THE POLICE IN THEIR POCKETS SO UM ERR YEA JUSTICE IS RARELY A THING HERE BUT UM ANYWAYS YEA THE GOVERNMENT LIKES TO SHIT ON THE POOR WOO LET'S SAVE THE USE OF SOCIOLOGICAL LENS ON THIS MATTER FOR ANOTHER DAY

+ The news channel reporting the arrest of the mayor is ABC-ZNN WHICH IS AN OBVIOUS REFERENCE TO ABSCBN aka the top media conglomerate here (that has been fucked over by the government so many times to the point that they had to shut down operations last year which is all sorts of unfair so seeing them being referenced here kinda made me happy gksfks)

[i-only-know-fandoms]

Descendants Royal Wedding and why it wasn’t as good as you think

I’m seeing a lot about how great Descendants Royal Wedding was and it’s just.... not? It actually upset me a lot so can I lay it out for you?

Elephant in the room is sweet, sweet Carlos and sweet, sweet Cameron, our Angel. No way of doing this without his would have been easy (Honestly it wasn’t needed but I was excited for new content until it got closer and the end is very revealing as to why they did this). But they championed they were honoring him, but not in way they should be patting themselves on the back for like they are. It was sweet, don’t get me wrong! Let me explain.

They imply Carlos is dead (I’ll get into my problem with that later) (also I refuse). They never outright say it but that’s the closest we get to an explanation so.... But they have the “I wish Carlos was here scene” and then his charm on Mal’s bracelet glows at the end, which is something, but not as big and grand as they made it seem like they were. Beyond those moments he is never mentioned. Ever. It’s like he doesn’t exist except for their mini memorial so they can say they honored Cameron. 

“Well what would you have them do?”

Well first off, not kill of Carlos. That’s not honoring Cameron at all.

“You’d have them replace Cameron!?!”

Absolutely not. At the very least Disney hasn’t tried to do that (what they are doing with how the short ending is Not Good though. Please be patient, I will get to that)

“What would have them do? Have some half assed excuse to why he’s not there?”

I mean, it wouldn’t have been ideal but I think it would have been better? I don’t think killing Carlos is honoring Cameron at all. Descendants is big for Disney (Channel at least). If Carlos stays around, it’s like part of Cameron is still here, heling people, keeping his memory alive. Killing him (and not even properly explaining it) is more disrespectful.

What would have been ideal is if Carlos was there and either not talked but still was with them participating. I mean, Jay barely talked. They could have made it work. Or, they could have used old dialogue Cameron has done in the past. The past Descendants, Jessie, Gamer’s Guide, maybe some interviews Disney did. They would have access to that and not have to pay anyone to get it. Throw in a few generic lines and he has as big of a role Jay does.

“That sounds easy to say but hard to do”

Probably, but everything in art is and it would have been worth it. Besides, no offense to the animators who were probably overworked as is, but the whole thing seemed rushed? They’re isle outfits were basically color blocks. Again, the animators did a wonderful job, it would be Disney’s fault for rushing it to get it out (Probably for the ending. Be patient!)

“Wait! You said you don’t want Cameron replaced, so how could he live on through Carlos’ story”

Books? Most of the content from Descendants is from books (which the movies ignore along with Wicked World, which is a whole other issue I have. Like, you just had to mention Freddie or CJ, not cast them or anything. The cross media continuity could have been beautiful. What happened to  Beelzebub, is she okay? This haunts me)

But yeah, books. Mal, Evie, Jay, and Carlos could still have meaningful and important adventures together in books, it would honor Cameron, and he wouldn’t be replaced. H*ck, they could have had a way deeper story if they made the Wedding a book, or even a graphic novel (that sounds like I’m belittling graphic novels but I assure you that’s not what I mean. I think a graphic novel would be a shorter story than a novel, even was used on content sized. I assume it would be like the mangas in length verses Melissa De La Cruz books) That would be a better and more lasting way to honor him

Just a little thing here that ties in the Descendants 3 complaints I have. They make it seem like Maleficent loves Mal and is maybe a good Mom? You spend the first two movies and the books nailing in their parents are abusive and terrible and they are afraid of them but the it’s all “Oh, they really love their kids, it’s not that bad” ??? Like, I’m sure not everyone parent was evil to their kids, I can believe Smee was a loving father, but the other are canonically bad and abusive and it’s actually upsetting they threw that all to the side and pretended it wasn’t real? More of a D3 complaint but they have Maleficent too nice and loving, even as a lizard in this. (Also why didn’t she turn back when she went back to the Isle in D2? Mal’s curse breaks in D3 when she crosses the barrier)

“Please, tell us why you hate the ending already!”

It’s an obvious cash grab? They want to make more money from the franchise but can’t continue without Cameron, and Dove, Sofia, and Booboo wouldn’t continue without him (this was hard enough for them) so they needed a new story to tell since they hate books I guess? This wasn’t made to tie up Mal’s story, it was there for them to add in the “someone else’s story is starting” as showing that Alice in Wonderland tease so they can move on without Cameron and the others and still make their money without caring about the actors that made the story what it is or the characters they created and people or the existing stories. That’s not honoring Cameron, that’s finding a way to make more money without having to dedicate it to Cameron or worry about what to do with Carlos. It’s disgusting. 

Listen, the past few days I’ve been panicking about this (not a panic attack, I’m not making light of those and I have had several, but my chest was going tight and my heart was racing off and on when I thought about it) because I was so worried they were going to kill Carlos and shove him to the side and not really care about him, and they kind of did? At least I’m angry instead of frightened now but it’s bumming me out that it’s being praised so much. Hopefully I’m not the only one to feel this way......

(sorry, this get long and I don’t feel like proof reading but tonight has made me Tired)

[xfeliciahardyx]

Summary: What happened in the bakery changed you. The next few years would force you to harden and build so many walls that you vowed to never let anyone in. You can probably guess what happens when a certain soldier starts to scale those walls so that he can get to you.

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x reader

Warnings: mention of blood, intense details about ww2, side character deaths, traumatic backgrounds, mention of Nazis, mentions of broken bones and bullet wounds, children suffering due to the war, imprisonment in a concentration camp, someone does get stabbed, and angst (Warnings will be added as the story continues if need be. This is just for the first chapter!)

Taglist: ~Here~ (Feel free to add yourself to any other categories!)

Word Count: 9k

Author's Note: Okay everyone reading I first want to say thank you for reading my imagine. There are some things that I need to clarify before you start reading this. The entire series will be me going through the Captain America movies. It first starts at The First Avenger and continues through the places in time where Bucky is and where he is not OoOoOoO plot twists. But yes this can be overwhelming to read because some details are VERY graphic. i did use techniques from my medical skills class so all the medical procedures are researched and correct. Please enjoy The Winter Soldier and The White Feather or as I like to call it WSWF

The war was changing you and everyone around you. It was making kind people turn green and bad people even worse. You learned that the hard way of course. When you’d had been taken to the facility you didn’t know what to expect. Now you had been in it for God knows how long and you didn’t know what would happen. You had no way of contacting your family. Of contacting anyone you knew really. You were lost, scared, hoping for a savior that didn’t seem to be appearing. Lost traveling in a fog ridden meadow without any sense of direction. It killed you to see how many people died and suffered at the hands of the Germans, but your screams were of no use. The way they treated everyone was as horrible as a cat chasing a mouse. Like you were the filth on their boots, the scum of the earth. Any time someone said something to them they’d react as if a fire touched their skin and recoil away. They acted as if they didn’t have enough money to feed anyone properly. The food was sure to break several health codes back in the city but that didn’t seem to stop you all from eating it. If it wasn’t stale bread that you could knock someone out with, it was week old soup that had hints of green to it. The water was as piss pore and was a dull gray. Not your best moments or the biggest feast for the holidays but it was for survival. It was meant for you to get on through the day and do as you’re told. The inmates had started to call it the end of the world. You didn’t blame them because it was. That didn’t stop them from constantly complaining about every little thing. You on the other hand couldn’t give a fuck. It was like every single one up and flew away with the happiness that had been your life in France. You couldn’t even speak after the horrors the world and slammed into your life. You avoided everyone and everything that lived, scared and desperate to stay hidden. It was the way to go and others followed your lead. You weren’t one to speak or do anything with another person and the others around you knew it. So, they cleared their distance and you appreciated it. You had never been one to stay quiet for long around people. Eventually you’d try to get to know them. But you had changed just as times had. Even now you knew to keep your cool and to keep up with your manners. At any minute they could kill you. Or they could do something to shatter your already scarred mind. You knew you weren’t like the people who decided to suck up to them. Kissing the floor, they walked on for a little bit of clean water, or a bowl of soup that was freshly made. They were horrible to the suck ups and laughed at them as they did their best to seem appealing. You would never stoop as low to be a person who supported the people who had made this sad reality your life. Despite everything your parents had done to you, you always managed kindness. The girl who was secretly the crush of every guy because of her brains. The kind of girl that went to the library in her free time. The girl who never dated because she claimed she wanted to focus on school but could never know how to talk to guys. Went to the movies with her one friend who she cared about more than anything. The girl who made life positive because her family had always made it negative. Yes, you were over all kind but when you needed to be you could be as sharp as a spear. So, why did they kidnap you? It was simply a case of being at the wrong place in the wrong time. But that didn’t excuse their actions following the moments they walked in that bakery with their rifles held high and their voices screaming in curses. Why did they have to kill one of the most important people in your life right in front of you? Shot her straight through the heart at the bakery around the block from the school. All because she was Jewish. Their logic didn’t explain why they had the right to take her life. Her younger siblings had been complaining about food and you had an extra food stamp to use. You’d despised the stars they had to wear on their chest that prohibited them from having the normal things every person

needs. You all had practically skipped to the bakery in hopes that they’d have chocolate. It was a nice moment thinking that everything was back to normal. She had only been 21 and you 20. That was 3 years ago. Even so long after you could still imagine the events that had occurred. Her blood had splattered all over your polka dotted yellow dress. All she had asked for was food for her siblings. Sure, sweets would have been kind but you were all hungry in general. When the soldiers had come in, they’d been attracted to her star. You should have been on guard more, but you’d been naive to think they wouldn’t harm them. One had grabbed Ciera and pushed himself against her. In her reaction she’d kicked the German away and his comrade shot her. Her siblings that had been clinging to your side as they shot her cried out for their sister as she dropped to the ground. Siblings that had their throats slit as they clung to your arms. You had begged for their lives. They were just two children. You thought they would have a little mercy. You knew you would take care of them for their sister. You tried to explain that Tommy and Cassandra had been hungry, and their sister had been killed right in front of them. The trauma they had suffered was enough for their minds to endure. All of what was happening was enough to make anyone mad. It was necessary that they cry and mourn. But as heartless as they were, they showed no remorse. That two children crying for their dead sister would never and hadn’t stopped the Germans. They’d ripped the children from your hands and pressed their silver knives to their throats killed them. You wanted to fight for them. You loved them like your own siblings. They didn’t deserve the fate that had been handed to them. The third soldier had held your arms behind your back to stop you from tearing them away. You had tried to fight him, but you knew he wouldn’t let go. You watched the blood slip from their throats, and you sagged against the soldier. He had been the kinder of the three. A recruit perhaps. You didn’t realize until later that he’d held you in his embrace throughout the car ride to the place where you’d be transported. The screams that left their mouths still haunted you and you saw their terrified faces in your dreams. Sometimes they would come together as a group. Other times Tommy would visit you with blood seeping from his throat asking you for his sisters. You blamed yourself for not fighting hard enough. You watched as the life left your eyes when you knew it should have been you. You should have been dead on the ground with them as they lay dead next to their sister on the ground. Yes, life was unfair. But if life was unfair than war was no comparison.

“Gurl!” A German soldier yells pointing his finger to a spot in front of him. Most of them could barely speak English and when they did it was so slurred. Half the times you had to watch their hand motions to understand what they wanted. His eyes are locked on you from your spot by the back of the courtyard. It was a quiet place that everyone avoided because of the sun that would beam on you. They preferred the shade, but you just needed the quiet heat to cleanse your mind. You cursed and grabbed onto the chain fence behind you to lift yourself up. It bent with your weight but you knew it wouldn’t break. It was a trashy fence that if you tried to climb, you’d either be shot down or just get so scratched that you’d just end up doing more harm than good. The fence traveled around the vast courtyard that was rundown and brown. The fence had rust in certain spots from when it rained but it never did anything for the concrete. Blood stains covered the floor from where prisoners had been shot and dragged away. There were splatters and puddles all over the already dirty floor. Even on the ground leading into your cells you’d find the lengthened blood beneath your feet. The courtyard was the only time you got to see the outside world. They also had a calendar on the wall that told you what day it was. You weren’t sure why but maybe it was to bring down the spirits of everyone. You on the other hand had been there for 3 years 2 months and 25 days. Since the beginning of the German’s invasion of France. It was made up of mock punching bags filled with paper plates and hard pillows that no dared to sleep on. People sat in cliques all around speaking in different languages. Most of them spoke French and in your time there you’d picked up bits of other languages. Nothing too major but just enough to understand.

“Ve dount ave foreevare vittle gurl.” He yelled again and you picked up your pace. You didn’t want to do anything to cause any more attention to yourself. His accent sent prickles of fear up your spine and the hairs on your arms stood on end. As you walked by a few whispers drafted into your ears and people glanced away. Being called over by a soldier wasn’t a good thing and people avoided it as much as they could. There was always the possibility of someone getting shot or having to do something you weren’t mentally or physically prepared to do. So, the terror that was filling up your mind with endless possibilities wasn’t a fun thing. Anxiety tightened the space in your chest and your throat was constricted with worry. You stopped a few steps in front of the soldier who towered over you and said nothing as his eyes trailed over your body. Once upon a time you would have blushed and shifted awkwardly where you stood but now you stand still and stare straight at the wall behind the soldier to avoid eye contact. The mic on his shoulder beeps and he holds out a finger to you. You don’t respond and continue to stare straight ahead. He responds to the German voice in his native language rapidly and you fiddle with your hands behind your back. You could feel the tension rising around the two of you and it wasn’t good. His eyes had begun to harden more, and his posture grew rigid. His eyes darted around the dirt filled courtyard until he turned around and stared at a man. He had been beat up. On his eye was a purplish hue with hints of green. You saw a small limp in his walk as you turned your head in his direction. He stopped and leaned against the fence with his arms crossed a pair of tags dangling around his neck. The green Henley he wore was matted and had spatters of dried blood. His pants hung off his body, still fitting but with tears. Looking from the outside in he looked just as bad as every other prisoner of war. He had an unreadable expression as he surveyed his surroundings. You caught a small calculating look in his eyes as he scanned people that walked by. His eyes caught yours and your breath caught in your throat. He didn’t just stare at you from afar. He seemed to bare your soul out in front of everyone to see. His gaze was intense, and a hint of curiosity was in his dark eyes. The soldier beside you muttered something into his radio and your gaze snapped away from the handsome stranger and you turned back at attention. You couldn’t get the image of him out of your mind even as the soldier gave you your new group to follow to your cells. Everyone was given a number when they were placed in the camp. Each cell was alphabetized and most of the time people didn’t even pay attention to them. They did it to give themselves a feel of control. The only one you didn’t follow. You didn’t say anything back to him and when he dismissed you, you promptly walked back to your spot. You didn’t want to turn your head in the direction of the stranger you knew was walking over to you. You wanted to disappear, and you knew the moment he talked to you your tough exterior would break. There was something different about the way his head was held high and his shoulders never slumped. You could practically feel his confidence from across the courtyard and out of your peripheral vision. You slid down the fence with a sigh as you put your head in your knees. You took a few breaths to keep yourself calm as a pair of shoes came into view. They were brown and matted and looked like they’d seen better days.

“You okay?” a voice followed. It was low and soft, but it sent shivers down your spine. You slowly raised your eyes up the body that was wearing them, and your eyes widened in surprise where the man from before stood in front of you. He’s much taller than you initially realized and his eyes a deeper brown. He stares down at you with worry and you just stared at him not knowing what to do. He was around your age and it was rare you found anyone your age and that spoke a language you could speak. Sure, there were people who spoke your language and had tried to talk to you. Soon enough they stopped coming around because staying in a group too long would strike fearing the people because they wouldn’t want the Germans thinking new company meant rebellion. He moved to your side and carefully slid down the steel fence. You stared ahead at the people who stood in the middle of the courtyard.

“So, you people watch.” The stranger says motioning to the people in front of you both. You nod without looking at him keeping a close eye on the people in front of you. Something felt wrong about the gathering. It wasn’t anything good. Someone was shoved across into another person and you heard the stranger suck in a breath. He felt the sudden shift too and he pointed a finger towards a short man in broken glasses. His eyes flipped from each side of the courtyard where the two soldiers stood. His hands were clasped together, and his feet were headed in the direction of the crowd. You nudged your elbow into your newfound companions’ arm tilting your chin up in the direction of the people. The air felt stiff in the courtyard more than normal as the crowd began to step into a circle the short man now joining them. The soldiers seemed to notice it too because their gazes were hardened, and their guns were pointed. Your heart began to pound as you knew what was coming next. It haunted you every night ever since you had seen it the day you’d been kidnapped and taken to this camp. The images of Ciera’s body falling to the ground flashes through your vision and you shake your head, feeling your heart squeeze. The screams of her siblings were in the wind you closed your eyes tight and took in a deep breath. They were screaming out orders in German, but the group paid them no mind. You couldn’t breathe. Your hands rubbed against your rugged jeans completely lost to your nightmares that were coming to life. You opened your eyes slowly and looked around to see if anyone else was witnessing what was going down. A few other small groups of people watched from afar with dead eyes, but none made a move to assist. Your eyes were locked on the German soldier directly across from you that was walking towards the group. With each footstep your breathing became faster and your mind screamed for them to heed the warnings the Germans were giving. The group was large and growing by the minute which in the eyes of your captors was a bigger threat. The German nudged one of the people in the group with his gun and what happened next you had never expected. The stringy thin man with blood hair who had been poked spun around and stabbed the soldier in the neck with a foreign object and someone screamed. His hands went to his throat and he dropped his gun. The man dove for it as the soldier fell slowly bleeding out on the concrete. Everything was chaos as the gun dropped and a single bullet escaped from its chamber. The bullet flew across the courtyard and your eyes flew with it watching it impale a single child.

“No!” you screamed bolting up from your place by the fence. The soldiers burst into action firing down anyone who had been in the huge crowd. Everyone went running towards the inside of the prison, trying to avoid the bullets. It was pure chaos as people from everywhere were getting shot as they tried to escape the rage of the soldiers. There were screams of all different languages and you heard the cry of the mother above all. Her cries for her baby filled your ears as you raced across the courtyard toward the downed child. The man followed you close behind, and you paid him no mind as you shoved through the on rush of people. People were getting into meaningless fights as they tried to get away. A man stops in front of you making a grab for your waist. A hand presses against your chest shoving you back as the stranger jumps in front of you. He throws a hard punch at the man who’d made an attempt touch and he gets knocked to the ground. You grabbed his hand and started running again. The mother’s screams in French guided you through the crowd. You felt your foot hit something before you went flying. Your hands moved out in front of you to stop the fall by instinct and on impact you hissed in pain. You had landed hard on your free hand but was yanked back up just as quickly.

“We have to go.” The man from before whispered in your ear.

“The child needs help.” You whispered back and he didn’t say a word back as he supported you on the remaining distance. The child lay on the ground holding his mother’s hand as she screamed for help. The brown-haired man set you on the floor beside the child and you immediately began ripping your jacket off your arms. You ripped the sleeves off the jacket and used the back to apply pressure to the wound. The single bullet hole was small but on the size of the boy was enough to cause a lot of damage. You quickly felt it become wet with blood and pressed down a little harder as the boy cried out in pain.

“Mon garçon, s'il vous plaît, sauvez mon garçon.”(My boy, Please save my boy) She sobbed as her eyes covered her face. Her hands were covered in his blood and your mind flashed with the memory of your own hands covered in Tommy and Cassandra’s blood. You ignored her cries but that didn’t stop you from helping her. You kept a steady push on his leg to slow the bleeding. After a few checks you eyed the wound and you couldn’t help the feel of triumph that flowed through your heart. The slow of bleeding meant you could check the wound for any other injuries it could have caused. You ripped open his pant leg and wiped the blood away to get a good look at the wound. This wasn’t the first time you’d be a medic and it wouldn’t be the last. Your father had gotten plenty of hunting wounds and you had been the one to take care of them. His leg only held one bullet hole, but his leg was so skinny it could fit in the palm of your hand. Your heart ached that this would be the childhood he remembered and not one filled with days of running in a field with his mother or being in school with his friends. He was one of the lucky ones you had to remind yourself. He was alive and you were determined to keep him that way. Your hands moved with remarkable speed as you lifted the child’s leg and looked for the exit wound of the bullet. A small hole was in the back of his leg and you wiped it clear of blood. You lifted the sleeve from earlier to your teeth and made a big enough tear that you could rip it with your bare hands. The long piece of clothing dangled between your fingertips as you examined the length. From the way the threading looked it wouldn’t hold for long, so you’d have to find a more permanent solution. But that was later and the thin cloth would do good for now.

“How can I help?” The man whispered in your ear again as your mind whirled with adrenaline. Your instincts in healing were helping you move through the steps you’d done so many times before with ease, but you couldn’t help the storm brewing in your feelings. You were enraged, scared, and so many other feelings all at once. You had gotten lost in the moment as you rushed to save the boy that lay before you. People were still running inside, and the screams had begun to slow. The courtyard was filled with sobs of families returning to their loved one’s bodies that lay dead on the floor. The blood on the ground would haunt them for the rest of their lives as the bodies were carried away by the ‘healthy’ prisoners.

“Lift his leg carefully. I need to make a tourniquet to stop the bleeding.” You said softly showing him the places to place his hands. He placed his above and below the wound just as you’d asked and lifted slowly. The boy screamed in pain and the mother began to reach her hands out to stop you. You glared at her, but she ignored your attempts to stop her from distracting you. She was screaming at you in French, begging you to stop hurting her boy. You ignored her cries and curses and continued to work. Her hands were gripping yours now as she tightened them around your wrists, and you struggled to tie the knot.

“Si vous ne retirez pas vos mains, votre fils mourra!” (if you don’t pull your hands away your son will die) you snap back at her in French and her nails stop digging into your skin. She pulls away quickly but doesn’t move her eyes away from your face. You sigh in frustration as you tighten the knot around the boy’s leg. You can hear the boy crying for his maman and she’s trying to calm him but it’s no use. You grab the jacket and place it over the boys wound again and apply pressure. The mother is sobbing as she holds her sons face and you watch knowing that you can only help minimally. You motion for the man to lower his leg softly and he does. He watches you carefully as you wrap the torn jacket around his leg and tie it again in the back. The bleeding has slowed to minimal trickle, but you’ll have to find something to clean the wound to keep away infection. You sigh in relief collapsing on the back of your heels as the woman steps away from her boy and walks over to you. She offers a hand over to you and you stare at it not sure what to do. She smiles weakly and shakes her hand again. You realize she’s trying to get you to stand up and you take it willingly. She helps you stand up and as soon as you’ve got on your feet, she pulls you into a hug.

“You…help…. me Henry.” She whispers in your ear as she pulls away. There’s a new look in her eyes as she apologizes for hurting you in French. She pulls your wrists to her mouth and places small kisses over the crescent moon shaped marks. Her fingers run over them in a silent guilt and you pull away and give her a small smile. Her hand brushes your cheek leaving a trail of blood, but her eyes are locked on yours. She leans in placing a kiss on your cheek before releasing you from her embrace. She quiets quickly once you tell her that it’s alright and that you have something to tell her. You start to give her basic instructions that will keep her son alive. How to clean the wound and tell her the signs of infection. Her hands grip onto her fingers, and her eyes are eager to make sure she doesn’t miss a word. You tell her your cell keep so that if she may ever need your assistance, she can send someone. The man who helped you stands beside you as you give her these instructions nodding as you list off everything. Once you trust that she knows everything you bid her goodbye and tell her to stay safe. She doesn’t respond as she looks away from you down to her son whose hand is out reached for her. She rushes to her knees and grabs his hand and doesn’t give you another glance. You know she won’t leave him alone for a minute. The fear of losing her family wasn’t a good one and it had scarred her heart forever just as it did to you months ago. She would hold on tight to his hands and watch for any signs of sickness. She would not sleep through the night but would tell her boy that she did. She’d do anything to protect her last light in the dark world. Your eyes travel from their joined hands to the boys’ face. It’s pale, most likely from the blood loss but he smiles at you. He opens his mouth to say something, and just as quick as it opens it closes as a grimace of pain flashes over his face. You shake your head giving him a weak smile. You kneel beside his head and place a soft kiss on his sweaty forehead and murmur a good-bye. You give the mother and son a small wave before standing once more and turning on your heel to walk away. Your tail follows you as you make your rounds around the courtyard. People cry out to the two of you as you try your best to help anyone and everyone. Most people have died by the time you reach them, and you close their eyes for the dead to mourn. Some don’t accept that their loved one is dead and continue to scream their fury at your insistence. One man almost attacks you because he refuses to believe his wife was killed and the stranger has to stop him. Tears stream down your cheeks at the sight of each body that lies on the floor. There was so much blood on the court now that it was rare you saw an old patch that was dried. It runs underneath your shoes and covers each piece of cement with ease. It soaks the clothes of the people lying beside their families and friends crying their hearts out to someone who is no longer there. Their pain has become apart of you and you can feel the shock of it numb you by the time you reach the last patient. Your tears have dried up and your hands are covered in so much blood that pieces flake off when the wind blows through the courtyard. You stand beside the teenage girl that holds her arm limp as her companion stands nearby attempting to talk to you in German. You attempt to converse with him in French the only language you’d been able to learn in your months of imprisonment but it’s no use as he doesn’t understand you. The girl cries softly as you touch her arm trying to figure out what was wrong.

“Was ist mit ihr passiert?” (What happened to her?) your partner says in German earning a glance from the boy. He speaks faster now the urgency in his hand motions clear. You can’t help but watch in awe as the man who has been helping this whole time stays remarkably calm. He nods and continues to ask him questions and gives him responses without hesitation. He doesn’t interrupt when it becomes clear that the boy is in full out panic mode. You place your hand on the girls’ shoulder and she flinches away before you give her a small smile. She stared at you with a suspicious glare in her eyes, but you tapped your eyes and then pointed to her shoulder in hopes that she would understand. Her eyes are wide with understanding and she leans in closer to you. You press your fingertip towards the top of her shoulder, and you feel her flinch. Doing this a few more times as you examine her shoulder you realize it doesn’t look like the other. It’s bent at an odd angle and you curse yourself for not realizing sooner.

“Her shoulder is dislocated presumably from being trampled in the panic. I know how to put it back in place, but it’ll be a two person job so I’ll need your help...” you trail off not knowing your assistants name. He glances over his shoulder giving you a smile makes you look down at your hands tat have begun to fidget.

“Call me Bucky.” He winks but you can tell he immediately regrets it because he turns away and starts muttering something under his breath. You catch a small huff of frustration that he cuts off quickly with ‘idiot’ following in English. You chuckle a little and his eyes brighten at your show of emotion towards him. Besides the subtle nudges of worry from before the attack, it was the only one you’d shown. His whole demeanor changed then, and you couldn’t help but feel drawn to the sudden beam of light. He was trying to hide his ear to ear smile as he shifted in place. You shake your head slightly and notice the two people that had been forgotten for a short moment. The man from before is quiet now as the girl talks to him in a soft voice. You motion Bucky over, and he leans down to your level.

“She needs to lie on her back. I’m going to pull it back into place.” Bucky gives you a single nod and begins talking to her in German. She stares at him in confusion but then as he explains it even more, she begins to nod her head in understanding reaching out to her boyfriend for assistance. He grabs her lifted hand and Bucky grabs her waist. Her boyfriend kneels beside her and the two exchange soft words that you don’t attempt to hear. Yes, there were things worse than what she was going through but what you were about to do wasn’t about to be as painless as she’d think. Besides the love that you could see when they looked at each other felt like you were intruding every time they looked at each other. When both men have settled, they both slowly lay her down onto her back, but your eyes don’t miss the flinch she gives once Bucky goes near her and her partner has stepped away. You slightly nudge Bucky out of the way and lightly grab her arm. You can see the gratitude in her eyes, and she tries to grab your hand most likely to thank you in the only way she knew how. You gave her a small nod and remained silent because somethings were better left unsaid. As you go through the steps you tell Bucky what you’re doing and in turn he translates. She doesn’t take her eyes off her partner the entire way as you begin to move her. Her arm is causing her a lot of pain, so your touches are featherlight. She is squeezing his hand and you take a lot of breaks to offer her some relief. Once her arm is outstretched towards you, you place your foot underneath where her shoulder is. You take a deep breath and without warning pull her arm at the same time as you push into her side. A loud pop sounds from her arm and you immediately stop pulling on her arm and let it sit on your lap. A blood curdling scream leaves her mouth and she begins to sob in pain. You can see her body shake as her free hand covers the tears that stream down her face. The three of you aren’t the only ones that heard her of course and a German soldier runs over to you all and starts yelling commands that you don’t understand. The girls companion starts responding to him much quieter than before most likely being careful with what he says. Even with the man explaining the soldier still has his eyes locked on you with a hatred you’d never seen before. It’s as if the soldier doesn’t care that you helped her and that she’d be better off in pain. You glare right back at him without a second thought before he turns his gaze away. He doesn’t respond to the boy before walking back to his post near the corner a few feet away from you. You let a breath you didn’t know you were holding in as he leaves the four of you alone on the courtyard again. You look down at the blonde girl who lies with her hair matted in blood from the concrete. She looks at you with a blank expression on her face that soon turns into gratitude. It’s not the first you’ve gotten but something about the way she put her trust in you makes your heart jump for joy. She lifts her arm into the air slowly but gives you a thumbs up, which in turn makes you laugh a little. She grins at you as you return her thumbs up right back and she looks away reaching out to her lover. He grabs her hands quickly and helps her to her feet. It’s a slow process as she slowly tries to get a handle on her pain tolerance, but eventually she stands up. She holds onto his hands to balance herself and gave her shoulder a roll. She let out a soft laugh in triumph and glanced over to where you and Bucky stood. Her eyes warm with happiness that would only last in the moment but were well deserved. She directed her eyes to Bucky and gave him a small smile as she spoke to him in German. You took the chance to finally look at the man who’d introduced himself to you. Here he was in the middle of a war willing to trust you and take care of all these people and be your assistant and he didn’t even know your name. You could tell by the hard built of his shoulders and the way his jaw tensed was because he was strong. Not in a physical way but in

a mental was as well. He could be one to give support and be just as willing to take it away. He was strong but not with many walls. He was determined but not without conscious. He was a good man. A handsome one at that you think before turning away and blushing. Here this man was helping you as a translator and you were thinking about how strong and physically built he was. You shake your head biting on your bottom lip to avoid the smile that wants to appear on your face.

“What have I got something on my face?” he jokes placing his bloody hands to his mouth. You shake your head but can’t help the small laugh that leaves your mouth. Even as a good guy who’d helped you save 20 people who were either bleeding or needed something fixing, he was a dork. The couple gives you a wave before walking off the courtyard towards the yelling Germans. It was time to go to your designated area. The cell of which you’d have to stay in until mealtime which would be in about an hour. As if on cue your stomach growls extremely loud and you place a hand over it. Usually you could hold your hunger over with some water, but it didn’t seem like there would be anything clean for a little while. The usual stream that came out of a hose was used to clean the victims’ blood away. You turned towards the hose where it had only on clean spot on the concrete. Today had been horrible and you knew there would be more days just like this to come. You still felt the ache for the people you couldn’t save and how their blood was still on your hands. You looked down at the floor and your eyes connected with the blood that covered your shoes. You felt the sudden urge to rinse it off and clean them with bleach, but you knew they would never truly leave. The stains would wash off physically, but it would stay with you forever and trap you in its horrors.

“Don’t let it scar you more than it already will.” He whispered into your ear. You didn’t have the strength for words as the day’s exhaustion hit you. You felt your knees buckle and Bucky’s arm wrapped around your waist quickly, keeping you up. All the adrenaline was dying out and you could barely keep your eyes open as he attempted to have you walk. You couldn’t though and it made your feet hurt 10 times more. You groaned and forced him to stop for a minute. You were blinking rapidly as your vision faded in and out.

“I got you.” He murmured placing an arm under your knees and swooping you into the air. His arms pulled you closer to his chest and you placed a hand on your stomach. You wanted to say thank you, but the words wouldn’t come. You were burnt out of all your energy and your eyes lazily rolled over the man who was walking you across the courtyard. He looked straight ahead, and his gaze sharpened at the people who passed by. It was clear he didn’t trust the people around you. It wasn’t something anyone should ever give out willingly but the thought that he had given you such a fragile thing made your mind whirl with possibilities. You kept staring at him in wonder and you weren’t sure if it was from the lack of food and water, but you felt a sort of friendship growing with Bucky. He made you feel safe and he hadn’t abandoned you as you fell but instead, he’d picked you up. He’d let you work and hadn’t tried to take over either. Your hand gravitated towards his cheek and you held it there. Something about the action felt right and it comforted you. From what you saw it had the same effect on him. He looked down at you with a sincerity in his eyes and a small smile formed on his lips. It warmed your heart that you were able to get that reaction from him after such a long day and you couldn’t stop the smile you returned. He looked up and his gaze sharpened once more but there was something else displayed across his face. It was more lie… astonishment. You turned your head in confusion to see what had made him look such a way and you let out a small gasp. The area around the only source of water wasn’t crowded like it had been when you’d glanced at it. The people had made two lines directly to the water hose. You recognized these people as the ones you’d helped. Men and women who’d lost their loved ones and had found some broken but ready to be helped had stepped aside so that you could get some water.

“No.” you croaked nudging Bucky. You needed them to know you weren’t any special. You weren’t some savior. You’d been able to save them, but you couldn’t save your best friend and her siblings. That their ghosts still haunted you in the depths of the night. You began to squirm in his arms your energy suddenly making its way back into your body. He glanced down at you as you struggled to get down. He lowered your legs and planted them on the floor without a word, but his arm didn’t leave your waist. You were glad because if it weren’t for the support you were sure to fall. You pointed to the hose and Bucky nodded and began walking the two of you towards it. The area was clear as the people watched you from the sides. You could feel your terror rising as you looked to the guards that watched from afar. Your heart was beginning to pound with anxiety. You didn’t want another shoot out. Too many people had died already, and you wouldn’t let any more die. You urged Bucky forward and soon you reached the front to where the boy, Henry stands as his mother washes his wound. He looks up at you and gives you a small wave and begins tapping his mother. She looks up from her action with a look of annoyance, but it vanishes the minute she notices you. Her gaze softens and she smiles urging you forward. You kneeled beside them and murmured a silent hello as Henry proudly held back the torn-up pant leg. He was telling his maman in French about how he would be a strong boy and protect them both from harm. She said nothing but only let a smile and a few laughs through her tough exterior as she let you inspect the wound. There never was a lot of talking in the prison except for the quiet whispers between the terrified families. People weren’t the chatty types when they’d be kidnapped out of their homes and forced away from their families. You shook your head as images of Jews being thrown out into the street and onto a bus in your hometown flashes across your mind. Just like you couldn’t save Ciera and her siblings you couldn’t even save them. But you could save these people. Some part of you hoped that you could help push the everlasting guilt away, but you knew you would always feel that pain. So, you internalized it and turned to the wound on the boys’ leg again. The flesh surrounding the wound looked clean which was already a very good sign. You checked along his leg for any red lines that would travel up. It was a common sign of blood poisoning but seeing as he had none you knew he would be alright for the time being. If there were any of the blood red veins trailing along his pale skin, it would be a sign of infection and with no antibiotics would be the death of him. She pulls the pant leg away from the boy at your request because he dances away from your touch. He giggles because your touch is warm against his cold skin and you smile at her and her boy. Giving her the good news is probably a moment you’ll never forget as she wraps her arm around her son tightly. You can tell from the way she’s beaming at being able to stay with her son for more time means that in some way they’ll get through this together. It makes your heart jump for joy and you can’t help but let the happiness consume you. The mother hands her son to Bucky and he kneels on a rock nearby holding the child. At one point while the mother washes a wound you catch Bucky letting the boy squeeze his cheeks and pull at them every which way. He doesn’t let this stop him from tickling the boy and the sight is so pure that you’re smiling for the rest of the time. More and more patients leave to go towards their cells after you give them direct instructions. They all come to the water and you and the mother wash out their wounds and they walk away. It’s a process that soon you start to do without realizing how many people you’ve helped. Some were far worse than her son with multiple wounds that fill with blood at the touch. It takes a lot to break a person and seeing multiple scrapes and bullet wounds would make anyone sick. After about the 15th person she ran away to throw

up because of the smell of cooking flesh from the sun above. Bucky immediately took her place in helping you clean the wounds. You looked over at the woman in concern but found her son rubbing her back as they sat on the concrete holding each other. You felt for her because this scenario was nothing good or that pleasing to see. Knowing all these people were hurting and that the men who guarded you all watched from afar and refused to help was making you feel 20 shades of green. You wanted to just react at them. To hurt the people who were hurting all these innocents. You despised them and with each wound that began receiving care by your hands the hatred began growing bigger and bigger.

“Neutralize your expression. Showing you’re angry will upset the Nazis even more.” Bucky’s hushed voice interrupted your thoughts. You lift your eyes to meet his as you turn the faucet off and dab at the patient’s jacket to dry his wound. The confusion you felt must have been visible on your face because his eyebrows raise as his head jerks to his right. Your eyes slowly follow the trail to where a German soldier stands with his gun in his hands. His eyes stare directly at your actions as if you were a criminal about to attack.

“They’ve been watching the entire time. Through the cameras in the corners. They have orders to let us be but to shoot if they see anything wrong.” You immediately drop your expression and place a blank look on your face. Bucky’s nod confirms that your expression is fine and you both help the man who’d been stabbed on the right side of his chest. The panic of knowing you were being watched never quite faded so you dived deeper into doing whatever you could for the people’s wounds. He’d been lucky for the knife to not puncture his lung because if that had happened his lungs would have filled with blood and he would end up choking on his own blood. If that had been the case, there would have been nothing for you to do at least long term. You were slowly coming to realize that all those trips spent in the library studying the multiple medical books were coming to work out in your favor. Bucky calls out the information in which you’ve told him to tell the girl who accompanies the man. She nods vigorously before grabbing his hand and helping him walk over to the opening that leads to the cells where you all would be holed up. The prison inside of the prison. How ironic. You call out for the next person to step forward but are met with silence. You look to the previous line to be met with open space.

“Come here.” He urges. He’s kneeling in front of you from where you sit on the high-rise rock. You ignore the outreach of his bloody hand and you walk around him. He sighs as you reach down to the faucet. The cold water greets your fingertips and you don’t move away from it. Bucky taps your shoulder and you turn around to see what he needs. He’s staring at you like you’re the smallest child in the playground and that if you don’t listen, he’ll throw you in time out. He points to his raised knee and you scoff shaking your head.

“Either you do it willingly or I force you.” You shake your head again and he groans throwing his head back in mock pain. You giggle and lean forward to reach the faucet again but you’re swiped off your feet as hands grip your waist tightly. He sits you on his lap and you have to wrap your arms around his neck to keep from falling. You whip your head around to glare at him because you’re certain he’s a mad man and he grins leaning towards the faucet. You let out a squeal and you grip his knees as he shifts back on the rock sitting you square between his legs. You know you look beyond pissed because he avoids your eyes. He’s still grinning though at your reaction as his hands release your waist and reach towards the faucet. You move your hands away quickly and lean forward with him, eager to get the remaining blood off your skin. Bucky turns the faucet to the left and water starts spilling from it. He tuts when your hands almost touch the water and he grabs your wrists. The interaction makes your skin tingle and interlocks your fingers with his. In that moment you feel the firs spread throughout your body. Everywhere he touches you sends a different burn straight to your heart. His chest presses against your back as he washes the blood off both of your hands. When he breathes you can feel it hit your ear and it makes the hair on your skin rise. His hands caress yours as they wash 30 or more people’s blood off. His fingers slide into between yours with ease that you watch in awe as your hands become yours again. Except with his hands on yours you aren’t exactly sure where he begins and where you stop. Funny thing is, you don’t ever want to figure it out. His fingers brush over yours and they move away too soon. Before you can grasp what you’re doing you grab his hands and start the same movements. You slide your fingers against his long ones and watch as they become his just as yours were yours. You hear Bucky’s breathing grow uneven and you look over your shoulder to see what’s wrong. His eyes immediately lock on yours and you can see something that you’d never seen on his face before. You can’t read it, but you know it’s something he tries to hide because his face becomes black once more and his hands move away from yours. You gasp softly at the loss of contact and swallow the complaint that tries to force its way out. The moment has disappeared, and you can feel the slight tinge of embarrassment floating its way through your senses. You wipe your hands on your pants and the sight of you and Bucky’s hands together burns itself into your mind. You know it shouldn’t be there, but your heart holds it close and locks it away for safe keeping.

“You ready?” he whispers. His hand lays on your stomach which does a flop at the sight of it and you nod not sure if you could even get through a full sentence without stuttering. You stand up and take a step away from him. You were trying to get a grasp on your emotions but the only thing you could focus on was how his scent no longer surrounded you. Your legs wobble as you try to walk but your knees give out. Bucky grabs your hand and pulls it around his neck.

“I don’t think I can walk.” You whisper. He doesn’t respond at first but you can tell he’s debating what to do.

“Hop on my back. I’ll carry you.” You nod slowly as you walk behind him and grab onto his shoulders. His hands wrap around your thighs and he pushes you up in the air. You jump and let your legs fall around his waist and let your arms hang loose over his shoulders. His figure shakes a little as he tries to steady you and start his long walk towards the open steel doors. You place your chin on his shoulder and let out a small sigh.

“My knight in shining armor.” You tease half heartedly and he laughs. The sound warms your bones more than anything else could and you don’t catch the small smile that spreads across his face as he starts walking towards the yelling Germans. It’s time for everyone to go back to their cells and if told once more there would be consequences. Your arms become heavy and feel like blobs of jello as they swing. You can feel yourself absentmindly snuggling into the warmth of the man carrying you, but it doesn’t register as your senses begin shutting down. You blink a few times as you stared down at the dog tags that swung on top of the green Henley that adorned Bucky’s chest. The faint sunlight disappears as he enters the prisoner compound and the room becomes dark. You lift your head up as shouts erupt around you. You catch people clapping and you have the urge to tell them to stop. Drawing attention of the soldiers wasn’t a good idea because they had just witnessed what happens when you cause a ruckus. You bury your head back into Bucky’s neck as you silently wish for the cries of joy to stop. Despite all the good you’d done you still couldn’t get over all the good you could have done so many years ago. Bucky senses your discomfort and starts to walk a little faster than before.

“Get some rest. You look like you could use it.” He says softly as a metal door creaks and it gets held open for the two of you. You nod slowly feeling your eyes shut again. You listen to him this time and let the exhaustion finally take over your body.

Tagging some peeps~@randomfangirl82 @stucky-my-ship @jules-1999 @starkssnarks @dallaswinstonswife1109@notsosecretspy @kyn-lyn-blog @alltoowell-taylorsversion@creecree-4-life

[ecrivant]

consign to oblivion | reiner braun

(reiner braun x reader)

home in liberio.  reiner lies awake in rumination, haunted by something you once shared with him.  takes place during the marley arc.

a.n. – an unofficial prelude to tendresse (which you can read here if you want spiritual closure to this piece).  god, this son of a bitch reiner is one sad bastard.    

word count: 1.3k

There was a fissure in the ceiling above him—a spanning interstice through which a seam of light from the room above penetrated the opaque darkness below.  He stared at it nightly.  Watching as it stretched across the room, a fracture worsened by an incessant stress. Looking at it made him sad, deeply so, though he could not say why.  Only cognizant that it was a sorrow that hollowed out his bones and burrowed in the vacancies.  He was uneased by the muffled atmosphere of the room; the comfort of his bed; the sound of rain outside; the aching, cavernous feeling in his person.  He could not sleep, and having conceded to this sleeplessness hours ago, he allowed his mind to drift.

To the last time he saw you. You stood over him, a large, backlit umbra, obscuring his view.  Shiganshina burned around you.  While Jean reasoned with Hange to spare his life, you stayed silent.  Your gaze had been monstrous, vitriolic.  His perfidy changed you.  He deserved anything and all he received.  

He yearned for a kinder memory, but those seemed so distant, so far removed that they were no longer his. An ownership unwillingly rescinded.

To the first time he met you.  Surrounded by innocuous introductions shared between cadets.  Neither of you approached the other, only eventually speaking through process of elimination.  He presented himself first, hand outstretched, voice strong and commanding. An attempt to contrive his persona. You took his hand with a softness he would come to know, to crave, and simply stated his name back to him.  It laid him prostrate before you.  His name on your lips was a word to be venerated, some holy relic made solely to languish after.  He was made so dumb and blind that he had to ask you to repeat your name.  

Your gentle dictum never left his mind, and he never grew tired of it.  Spoken during training, meals, quiet moments, shared.  You breathed his name, and he inhaled it.  Drunk and high on your eponymous utterance.  

His mind drifted, again, settling in a memory he had many times bypassed in his ruminative dazes.  

The day, grey, sunlight mantled by clouds and thick mist.  The Survey Corps headquarters were silent, unnaturally vacant, as he sat alone, as if some cosmic entity granted him a moment of intimate respite.  Privacy and solitude were concepts long foregone since he stepped onto Paradisian land, himself always haunted by Bertoldt or Annie or a fellow cadet, or a nagging and burgeoning sense of self-reproach that seemed more and more permeative the longer he was away from home.  Abortive in his mission yet so unduly devoted—plagued by the guilt of bipartite transgressions.  Had Marco deserved death any more than Marcel?  His head throbbed, schismatic. He missed his home, his mother; he yearned for their caressive auras.  He wished the weight of his berth on Porco, realizing in the same breath that if Porco was in his position, he would not have to shoulder the same burden, as its sole causative factor would be home, safe, angry, in Libero.  

He looked out towards the square and watched as a gust lifted dark silt from the ground, creating a formless cloud of dust that silently floated above the earth, languid, carried by the wind like an enervated companion.  He suddenly wondered why he was born.  Engendered by some sadistic almighty and loosed from the womb only to miscarry his own purpose.  He eluded the thought by turning his attention to the sky above, a billowing nimbus, a swirling, primeval amalgam contained within some celestial tureen, but he could not evade his morbid intellection completely.  What had become of his resolve?  What would Bertoldt and Annie think?  What would Marcel?

“You okay?”

Your voice resounded through him, vibrating his form like a struck bell.  Tearing him from his thoughts—a welcome reprieve.  He nodded.  You took your place beside him.  He thought of the first time you met—he wanted you to say his name.

“Reiner?”  As if you had heard his silent wish.  He turned his head, expectant.

“Why did you join the Survey Corps?”

He was taken aback, sure the two of you had discussed each other’s rationality many times over.  He let out a contemplative sound to acknowledge your question.

“To save humanity. For my family.  My home.”  His accustomed answer.  One of which he himself needed convincing but had to tell, for the desire to be a hero was wholly unheroic—he thought bitterly on the irony.  

Silent for a moment too long, he asked you the same.  

“I want to see to humanity’s liberation.”  

Your sincerity was smarting on his skin.  To be in the presence of one truly selfless, it made him uneasy.  He smiled, obfuscating his discontent, and nodded his head, wordlessly voicing approval.  

Neither spoke after this, opting instead to watch the rolling sky.  He hoped for rain, and the sound of distant thunder seemed to answer him.  The upcoming expedition would take him outside the walls—one of the first times since Maria, he realized.  He thought of Marcel and wanted to disintegrate.  

“I don’t want to be forgotten, actually.”  You voice, a sudden, quiet orison, spoken to no one.  He silently waited for you to continue, recognizing the beginning of confession.  

“I’m not brave or selfless. I do this with the hope someone will remember me after I die.  Maybe it’ll be future generations studying the heroes of the Survey Corps.  Or maybe just the people I’ve loved, or the ones I’ve saved.  I don’t know. For my own name and soul to die along with my body—that’s my greatest fear.”

You breathed deeply, shoulders dropping.  

“I’m sorry.  I’m not sure why I told you that.”

Turning to face him.

“Please don’t think less of me.”  

Reiner desperately wanted to tell you.  Tell you he was nothing but a scared child, one who destroyed lives in a desperate pursuit of heroism.  Driven by selfishness, blindsided by pride.  

Instead, he comforted you—grabbed your hand and caressed it in silence.  You were surprised when he cried.

He had felt so close to you.

They were presently planning to return to Paradis.  Reiner had fully endorsed it, vengeful.  Driven by a yearning.  For Eldian posterity, he told himself, never having given up the practice of convincing himself of things he did not believe.  In the pitch solitude of his room, he reluctantly acknowledged that he was driven by some masochistic desire to see you again.  To repent for his transgressions and lay, prostrate, at the feet of his lover, begging for forgiveness—he could not think of a better path to self-vindication.  

Your fear of being forgotten—so human and base and true.  He thought to be forever loathed by you was preferable to that terrifying alternative.  He would rather be an ever-present scar, a painful remembrance, than a hazy moment of adversity cataracted by your mind’s eye.  What a selfish thought.  Given the choice, he would never desire to be an agent of your anguish, but it was a duty by his own hand bequeathed to him from the moment he was a child.  A chain of events propagated by naïve ambition.  Now cursed to perpetually remediate mistakes for which only he was to blame.  He had long ago reconciled with the idea that only through death would he be loosed from this hellish continuum, but could he not wish for one more moment with you before his deathly liberation?  Perhaps it was too much to ask.

He looked at the ceiling, the split in the wood.  How much longer before it all collapsed?

—

hi, me again!  i hope you enjoyed my stupid little piece.  feedback and all that jazz is always appreciated. also, i swear to christ the next reiner piece i write will be so cleansing and happy and sappy and romantic… he needs a goddamn break.  

hey also!  if ya fuck with my writing, drop a line and I can add ya to this taglist.  xoxo

taglist: @flam3bird

[clockworkgraystairs]

There is no such thing as vampires #1 || Jurdan AU

Jurdan Smut Week 2020   •   DAY 2

The prompt was technically dagger play...it didn’t really worked that way but HEY more smut! (vampire smut cough)

@jurdannet​   @jurdannetrevels​

Rating: E (no I don’t mean ‘everyone’)

Warnings: Explicit content, mentions of blood, some biting (it’s a vampire au c’mon), swear words (just in case)

Summary: 

Behind me stands a tall, slender man dressed in black trousers and one of those puffy white shirts men always use in period TV dramas. Raven curls frame the sharp angles of his face and his pale skin resembles marble. I stare at him unsure if my eyes widen because of the scare or how good looking he is. Maybe both.

His lips curve as if he finds my reaction somehow satisfying.

Extra comments: Just because I’m extra af, I’ll leave you the ambience music videos I listened while writing this. In case you’d like to hear them while reading:

Rain in a forest at night - Haunted Mansion/rain/thunder/wind - Narnia Lullaby

Written for: @slightlyrebelliouswriter23​ MA’AM AS ALWAYS THANK YOU FOR ALL THE HELP AND SUPPORT, FOR BETAING THIS UNENDING PIECE AND FOR HELPING ME CRAFTING THE IDEA FOR IT! ❤️

Part 1 ||  Part 2

Masterlist   •   AO3

“Please tell me again why are we doing this?” I ask for the third time, leaning to rest my head on my sister’s shoulder. We bounce as the uncomfortable van we travel in turns to a cobbled path, leading us deeper into the woods. 

“Because,” Vivi hisses back. “Your little brother is currently in his Twilight-obsession phase, and he just broke up with his girlfriend so we’re trying to cheer him up!”

“He’s 9! And they lasted like, what? Four hours?”

In that moment, Oak turns violently from the front seat, scowling at me. “First of all Jude, we were together two full days ok? She was the love of my life and suddenly she’s not sure about us anymore? Now I shall never find love again! I might have to become a priest. I expect a little consideration.”

Vivi ruffles his hair affectionately. “We absolutely understand, your sister here doesn’t have an ounce of romance in her veins but of course she supports the cause.”

That said, he returns to his place. I bite my lip hard, trying not to laugh. Typical Oak. I love my brother I really do, even if half of the time I can’t understand his dramatic outbursts.

Sighing, I stare through the window, to the heavy clouds gathering on top of us. Great. We are probably far away from the highway by now, nothing more than trees, rocks and occasional wild animals around. For some reason, our father had thought that there was no better way of fixing a kid’s broken heart than going on a quest in search of legends and hidden castles. 

The thing is that apparently, it works. Instead of an incessant whining about love being doomed, my brother spends the days throwing the most random facts about werewolves, vampires, ghosts and any impossible creature. To be honest, I don’t think wikipedia and the Twilight books are a reliable source, but if it makes Oak happy I could live a couple of days with it. And most importantly if I have to choose between this or spending the week back at home with my mother and twin sister going to tea parties for old ladies, well, the answer is very clear.

I remember reading a few books about myths when I was younger. When I turned fifteen, I developed a hard crush on Brad Pitt after I saw Interview with the Vampire, filling half of the walls in my room with posters of him. Even now ten years later, I actually enjoy talking about old folklore and legends, urban myths and stuff like that. 

What bugs me, are the fraudulent morons who want to take advantage of Oak’s naive curiosity to engage us in the most ridiculous tours that were obviously a waste of money. So far, we’d entered three “museums” where most of the so-called relics were made of plastic, and a haunted house with special effects so poorly done, father had discreetly asked for his money back. Only another two of the places we visited were actually interesting, but since the guides spent most of the time flirting with Vivi or me, it had annoyed our father. 

Now though, we are driving behind the car of an old couple who swore their ancestors owned a castle where true vampires had lived once. The sole mention of the word “castle” was enough to make Oak hang from our father’s sleeve begging to go.

I’m not going to lie, it is an intriguing idea. But I remain a little worried about how much money Madoc is ready to pay before he hurries his little son back to his fantasy books and videogames.

“Dad, did you know that vampires like to live in the woods because it allows them to make racing competitions without being interrupted?” Oak asks with enthusiasm.

Madoc gasps. “Do they? Is it because they’re so fast?” 

Okay, he might be willing to pay more than I thought. Next to me, Vivi muffles a laugh and keeps taking pictures for her instagram, occasionally asking for my help.

Upon arriving at the castle I have to suppress a curse. This, now, is a real castle. Nothing like the pitiful buildings we’d visited before. It is huge, made of pure stone and a modest wooden bridge that connects the entrance with the spot where the cars park. A slight fog covers the sides of the castle giving it a creepier look. 

A shiver goes down my back. I turn to find my family who are all equally gaping at the place in front of them. Oak is visibly shaking with excitement. Vivi shoots me an astonished look before taking my brother’s hand and following the couple across the bridge.  

The first thought that pops into my mind is that this place must have been taken out from a movie. Or set up for one. Maybe this is one of those pranks for TV. There is no other explanation for the massive room we find behind the giant front gate. Every inch of the walls is covered by paintings, several images barely recognizable through the dust. Aged furniture rests under dust and spiderwebs, pointing out they haven’t been used in quite some time. The illumination doesn’t help either. Electric lights hang from a few spots on the walls, though not enough for the big space, which I suspect is the reason that long candles are lit up too. 

My next thought is that I should’ve brought my sweater. The damn place is freezing. 

“Phew, sorry about the dust!” The old man says, flashing an embarrassed smile to us. “We were not planning to have any visitors yet.”

“You said this is going to be a museum?” Madoc asks, carefully surveying the walls. Next to him, Vivi tightens her hold on my brother’s hand to prevent him from starting to run around. I swear his eyes are about to pop out of their sockets. 

“It will indeed! This place has been in our family for generations, but since it’s hard to adapt it to modern technology it was abandoned.” He turns to Oak and winks. “Not to mention the creepy things that happen here all the time.”

His gaze widens. “What kind of things?”

“Well, some distant relatives used to try spending their vacations here. But after a couple of days they left in a big rush, claiming some strange force had commanded them to go away.” With a lower voice, he adds. “They also mentioned noises coming out from empty rooms and dark hallways. Steps. Shadows that followed them along the place.” 

For a second everyone remains silent. The only noise I can hear is the wind outside and the start of a slight rain. Somehow my hands are even colder.

“The legend says,” The woman, whose name is Marrow if I remember it correctly, continues while taking one chandelier with her hand. “This was the hideout of ancient vampires, how many, we don’t know. But they didn’t appreciate people trying to live within their domains.”

“So why come here at all?” Vivi asks. “Isn’t it dangerous?”

“It might be.” She shrugs. “But that’s half of the fun, isn’t it?”

“We like to think we’ve found a safe way to open this castle to the public without taking any risks. We will use a part of it as a museum, to show some of the family relics. But be aware, no one is allowed to go further than the marked area.” He signals at the yellow tape stuck on the floor forming arrows.

“If you please...” Marrow says, motioning at the stairs where the markings start.

They get me for a moment, not gonna lie. The surroundings and the way they speak are creepy enough to make me doubt my beliefs for a second. I shake my head to clear those thoughts away and walk behind my family. There’s no such thing as vampires or haunted castles.

We go through passages. Madoc has to remind Oak to not touch anything, constantly. From what I see, he’s living his best day. Several counters line up side by side against the wall. Some of them contain jewelry, others weapons, old writing pens among other things. Most of them carry a family shield, although it’s too blurry to properly identify what it says.

The rain thickens outside and Marrow keeps talking. She tells the story of her so called ancestors, whose family were big enough to fill all the rooms in the castle. Elwen, Eldred… something like that, and his many wives had once lived here. Along with his abounding children. I see in Oak’s face the intention to ask about how that family arrangement worked but Vivi gives him a slight pull of his hair. 

I would have thought our guides would try to keep a proud name for their so-called ancestors. But they don’t. In fact, she seems particularly interested in explaining how Eldred’s cruel and terrible nature brought him nothing but disgrace. His once prosperous castle and assets were gone little by little. He claimed he was under the effects of a curse, but no one dared believing him. At least not until people started disappearing.

I stop listening at some point, focusing my attention on the relics in front of me. I’ve always felt a significant attraction to weapons, but not the ordinary ones like guns or rifles. These ones though, such beautiful daggers and swords. I’d give a kidney just to hold one of them. 

On the next shelf books pile one next to the other, the dust around them a clear sign of how long they’ve been unbothered. All except for one. The navy blue cover has almost no dust at all, yet it looks like it would fall apart with a gentle blow of wind. The title is partially gone, probably through time. 

I turn my head to my family but they’re gone, probably to another corridor since I can still hear the muffled voice of Marrow and my brother. Would she care at all if I check out that book?

I bite my lip. As long as it doesn’t break it’s probably alright. Standing on the tip of my toes I reach for it.

“That is an excellent book.” 

I shriek and whip around, my hand flies to my mouth trying to cover the embarrassing sound. The book falls open next to my feet.

Behind me stands a tall, slender man dressed in black trousers and one of those puffy white shirts men always use in period TV dramas. Raven curls frame the sharp angles of his face and his pale skin resembles marble. I stare at him unsure if my eyes widen because of the scare or how good looking he is. Maybe both. 

His lips curve as if he finds my reaction somehow satisfying. “My personal favorite. Too bad the author was a poisonous bunch-backed toad.”

My mouth opens to apologize, but I only manage to let out a strangled. “Shit”

The stranger lifts an eyebrow and chuckles. 

“Sorry, I- that wasn’t what I meant to say.” I stutter. I feel as if my heart has jumped to my throat. “I wasn’t trying to steal the book.”

“I did not say you were.” He answers, his voice is like velvet.

I nod and take a deep breath. “I came in with my family. Marrow is showing us the place.”

His dark eyes wander down my body, but not like one of those rude men on the streets. No. Something in his gaze feels feral, like an animal sizing up his prey. A strange urge to run pools in my stomach, yet at the same time my muscles seem to have forgotten how to do so. 

He looks me in the eyes again and it’s all gone. I let go of the tension in my back and a breath I didn’t know I was holding. When he smiles again, I feel as if I could trust him. Why shouldn’t I?

“And are you enjoying the tour?” He bends to pick up the book I’d dropped before and puts it back on the shelf. His movements are fluid and carefree. I doubt I’ve ever seen such elegance in a simple action. It is unsettling as much as it is attractive. Then I realize I’m supposed to answer.

“Yes, this is amazing actually.” I look around and take in the aged stone of the walls and ceiling. In that corridor there’s only one electric lamp, the rest is only lightened by candles. I can see our shadows dancing along to the flames. “All of this really helps getting in the ‘mood’.”

“The mood?” 

I look at him and notice his tilted head. “Yeah you know, the mood of enchanted castles and old legends. This is well put enough that a credulous person would believe any story. Marrow is pretty good at it too.” Motioning a hand to him I add. “They even have their own actor.”

A thunder roars outside. “I beg your pardon?”

I roll my eyes and flash him a smile. “You don’t really have to keep the charade with me. I’m not some schoolgirl.”

“Yet I managed to pull a scream out of you, didn’t I?” The way he says it feels as if he was talking about an entirely different subject. Heat creeps up my cheeks.

“That was… not the same.” I mumble. “I didn’t hear you approaching. That could scare the living hell out of anybody.”

“I have been told I am quite sneaky, I concede you that.” He nods. “Why don’t I give you the rest of the tour? As an apology, of course.”

He’s doing his job, I remind myself, he’s not flirting with you. 

“You haven’t even told me your name.” I say. “If we’re roaming around a castle together I should at least know who’s guiding me.”

That sounded an awful lot like flirting. Dammit. 

“Cardan, at your service madam.” The tone he uses feels like a caress, he bows his head in a way I’ve only seen in movies. He takes his role seriously. I almost chuckle, but the sound dies in my throat. 

“Cardan.” I repeat, just for the pleasure of doing it. “My name is Jude.”

He straightens. “Delighted to meet your acquaintance.” He answers and offers me his arm. “Shall we, Jude?”  

I can’t believe how far away my family has gone. Cardan and I walk through a couple of corridors and still there is no trace of them. Did we take that long talking?

He’s an excellent guide, I have to acknowledge that. 

While Marrow uses a tone of suspense and mystery, Cardan has this melancholy in his voice that sounds as if he’s talking about a memory. It’s bewitching. He also drops the most ridiculous “facts” about the people on the paintings. I refrain myself from asking if inventing things is allowed for employees, because saying that the girl with the pearl necklace enjoyed to play on the beach while saying she was the Princess of the Sea, certainly sounds like it. 

“If you bite your lip one more time, I am going to do it for you.” 

My heart skips a bit and I let go of my lower lip. I hadn’t realized I was tugging it. It’s an unconscious habit. I turn to him and I find his gaze different, hungry. It sends a shiver down to a place I know it shouldn’t. He arches an eyebrow as though he notices it.

“Is that a thing vampires like to do?” I say, trying to lighten the mood. The last thing I want him to know is that for the last twenty minutes I’ve been listening to him speak wishing he put a different use to that wicked mouth of his.

His gaze doesn’t change. “It is a thing I would like to do.” 

I am pretty sure my expression is giving me up by now. Knowing my traitorous body, I’m probably flushed, my mouth open in awe. Desire coils inside me.

At my lack of answer, he continues. “Why don’t I show you something vampires really like to do?” 

He walks back without letting go of my hand. I notice he steps out from the marked section and into a forbidden corridor. 

The sensation returns, the one that is telling me to run. The problem is that I don’t know whether to run away, or straight to it. My mind wants both and my body, only one.

“You’re going to the restricted area.” I’m partially surprised by how breathless my voice sounds. “You can’t go in there…”

Cardan pauses and a confused expression crosses his face. A second later, it returns to his charming and teasing smile. “Are you afraid?”

I am. 

Yet, I don’t care. I walk into the shadows with him.

As we cross the passage darkened by the lack of chandeliers I tell myself this is a terrible, terrible idea. The way he devours my mouth the moment a door slams shut behind us, convinces me it is the best.

Cardan pushes me against the wall, the cold temperature of the stone goes through my clothes making me gasp. He takes the opportunity and kisses me harder, his tongue explores my mouth with such deliciousness I have to bite back a moan. 

My fingers are tangled in his hair pulling him closer to me, if such a thing is even possible. His hands are everything but still. They roam intensely from my breasts, down my sides and finally to my rear, where he grabs me, pressing me against his pelvis. I hear him groan and the sound makes something clench inside me. 

Before I can double-think about it, one of my hands lowers to rub his hardness, still hidden behind his trousers. His breath hitches. He pulls back a bit and whispers to my ear. “Needy little human.”

I frown a moment, something about his words not clicking inside my brain but whatever it is I forget it the moment he slides his cold hands under my jersey. I yelp at the sensation, not sure if what flutters down my back is a result of the temperature or the eagerness which he’s holding me with. When he reaches my bra I hesitate for a moment. Cardan pauses too and leans back to stare into my eyes. 

“Do you want to stop?” His voice is throaty and charged with desire. Still, he doesn’t make a move, waiting for my answer.

An instinctive part of me knows this is something I shouldn’t be doing. But that’s definitely not any close to me wanting to stop. Without removing my eyes from his I take the hem of my jersey to pull it over my head. The piece of fabric hits the floor, but neither of us pays attention to it. Once again Cardan’s gaze roams me in that predatory way. 

I don’t stagger this time.

When my bra falls to the floor too, I take his hand and guide it to my jean’s button. “Do I look like I want to stop?”

Without hesitation he yanks the button open and slides his hand inside to cup the apex of my thighs. The contrast of my warm skin against his coldness makes my hips buck. Cardan buries his other hand in my hair and tilts my head back. I can feel his lips nipping down my jaw and my neck. A moan escapes my lips as he swipes a finger along my heat. He hums in response, the vibrations of it against my neck makes my eyes roll back.

He continues his ministrations until he feels me wet enough to slide a finger inside, he curls and pulls out. Then back inside. My breath comes out in elaborated pants as he quickens his pace. My hands almost finish unbuttoning his shirt when he slides another finger through my folds, his movements turn fast and punishing. Wet sounds taint the silence around us. As pleasure takes full control of my body I cling to him like a life saver, trying to muffle my moans.

“Let go Jude, let go for me.” He breathes next to my ear. My back arches and I sob a curse, writhing down on his hand. 

He slows down as I come back from my orgasm, but never stops. Despite the freezing surroundings a drop of sweat runs down my chest. My heart beats as if I just ran a marathon. Cardan’s lazy moves continue, frequently grazing that spot that makes me mewl.

I hear him sigh. “You smell so good.” He claims my mouth one more time and bites me hard enough to make me wince. His tongue caresses my lower lip and a warm throb expands through my veins. He freezes and pulls back, releasing me. I stare at him in confusion, or at least as much as I can manage giving my current state.

He pants a couple of times before looking up at me. There’s a fiercess in his eyes that would’ve been scary under normal situations, right now, it only makes me want him more. He swallows before finally speaking. “If we go further, I won’t be able to stop.” His voice is like sandpaper.

My body seems to work on its own account, as I move to cup his face between my hands. “I already told you.”

“Jude…” He warns me, but I interrupt him joining my lips to his.

“I want this.” I breathe into his mouth. Cardan lets out a defeated groan before pulling my body back against his. Either he’s been holding back or it is until that moment that I realize how strong he actually is. He kisses me like a starved man and I can feel my pulse rise once again.

Soon his shirt joins my other clothing. My fingers trace his chest and torso, marveled at the softness of his skin. I mimic him moments before and kiss his neck. A low sound that almost resembles a growl comes out from his throat. My hands travel lower.

Somehow I manage to free his raging erection from his trousers, closing my hand around him. He hisses and then tilts his hips up to my touch. I start pumping him with unsure movements before gaining confidence to do it harder, tighter. Now it’s his turn to curse. Even though it sounds like something taken out from a Shakespeare novel, it makes my core pulse. 

Cardan grips the hem of my jeans strong enough that for a moment I fear he’d rip them away. 

“Take these off.” He demands instead.

I’m not sure of how I manage to do it. My mind feels blurred with a mix of sensations. Disoriented, not sure about exactly how my body is doing all of that, and the bliss of knowing I’m enjoying every second of it.

Before the air hits my skin, Cardan lifts me from the ground. My legs circle his waist in a reflexive move. His lips quirk in approval. Then my back is once again pressed against the wall, making me arch in a failed attempt to avoid touching the cold stone. A sound leaves my mouth, though it is not clear if it’s a protest or a moan. I hear him chuckle in my ear and I turn my head, searching his lips.    

His kiss is slower but still deep. I feel as if small electric sparks are tickling every single one of my nerves. More, I need more. Cardan holds me in place with his hips, letting his hands wander up and down my legs.

The tip of his shaft is grazing my core over the thin fabric of my remaining piece of clothing, with an aching slowness that is not enough to ease my thirst. More.

I might have said that out loud because Cardan’s hips grind faster against me. It feels so good. And yet, it’s not enough.

I whine his name like a plea. 

He continues for a couple of torturing seconds before reaching between my thighs again. There’s no teasing now as he moves my panties aside and immediately sinks his fingers inside me, pumping in and out with a pace that has me gasping in no time. He murmurs something I can’t understand and lines himself up to my entrance.

With soft, deliberate movements he slides through my heat, letting me feel every inch of him until he’s completely filling me. Then he stills. My muscles twitch around him, trying to adjust to the invasion. The exquisiteness of it is making my head swoon. 

Cardan grabs my jaw and locks his gaze with mine. I can imagine what he’s looking at. Hooded eyes and flushed skin, though he doesn’t let me think a lot about it as he starts to move. Slow at first, with careful strokes that quickly evolve into long and deep. My mouth falls open at the sensation and my eyes shut.

“I warned you.” I hear him pant. “That there was no coming back.”

A whimper escapes my lips. I’m not even sure I’m actually trying to say something. He doesn’t seem to care either and leans to whisper to my ear. “You are mine now, Jude.”   

There is something in the way he says it, his words carrying some compelling implication I can’t fully catch. His lips trail down my neck and I want to answer. To tell him that I am, that after the way he’s taking me, how could it be otherwise? 

That’s when I feel a sharp stinging pain on the base of my throat. 

I cry out and try to shake it away but whatever it is won’t let me go. Cardan’s words echo at the back of my mind, Needy little human. 

As if sensing my thoughts he grabs my thighs and opens them wider, he thrusts into me harder and faster. Everything mixes in sensation. Pain leaves as fast as it came, leaving behind it that throb in my veins I can’t really explain. It is more intense now, what I felt as warm now is scorching. My entire body feels like it’s on fire, I’ve never felt so exhilarated before in my life. I don’t want it to stop. 

Cardan sucks on my neck again and I moan his name. Without realizing it, I’m on the brink of another orgasm. I only realize it because he groans when my legs start to shiver around him. I cling to his neck and his hair. If I’m pulling too hard I can’t really know. A familiar swirl comes up from my core to the rest of my body as I spasm around him. It takes me a moment to notice the broken moans and sobs I hear come from my own mouth. 

He keeps going a little longer until his fingers tighten over my skin, surely leaving bruises on both thighs. Muffled moans ring against my skin as he comes, thrusting in a couple of times more before stilling. A warm sensation covers the place where we join together.  His mouth lets go of my neck. I grunt and shiver. 

He puts me down carefully, still holding my waist, which is good considering I don’t know if I’m able to stand by myself. I feel dizzy. Cardan lowers his lips to mine one more time. He’s slow and gentle as though he’s worried. There is a slightly metallic taste in his tongue but I don’t pay attention to it. I trace the fine features of his face with trembling fingers. Little by little my senses start to take in the surroundings, the cold. 

The place rumbles with another crack of thunder.

“You have to go back.” Cardan says, barely pulling his lips apart. Go back. I frown, then images of my family crash in my mind. I look around searching for the door, there is something  on the floor. I realize soon those are my clothes. Shit. The tour, Oak. How much time have I been gone?

I dress in a hurry, not really caring if I put on my jersey correctly. He does the same but with the calm an elegance he has.

Panic must be written in my face because he grabs my chin and turns me to him. “Hey. Calm down.” He soothes me. Then his tone changes, turns commanding. His eyes are darker too. “Listen to me. You are going to do exactly as I say, do you understand Jude?”

I want to ask why, but for some reason I only nod. Cardan grabs my hand and pulls me out of whatever room we were in. “You must follow this passage until you find a way to turn left. Then continue until you see a painting of a black snake then turn right, you cannot miss it or you will get lost. Walk straight, and you will be back to a safe area.”

“But-” I start. I don’t want to go alone. And I don’t understand why but I don’t want to separate from him either. Which is nonsense, I barely know him and still...

He interrupts me. “I cannot go with you, I have lost so much control already and I don’t think…” 

“Cardan, I can’t-” 

A growl echoes in his chest and he pulls me closer to him. While his voice is still hypnotizing it sounds threatening now. “You will not tell anybody about what you saw here. Now go if you intend to leave this place alive.”

Then he's gone. I can’t recall if I blinked or turned, because a moment before I could still touch him and now he vanished.

I take a deep breath and start walking. Focus. Go straight, then turn right. Or was it left? 

All passages look the same, some spaces don’t even have a painting or anything at all to help me differentiate them. Sometimes I whip around, thinking I heard a familiar chuckle behind me. Distant rain is the only sound that is a constant companion, but even with it I’m able to hear an echo of every step I give. It unsettles me more with every minute that passes. Although I feel more in control of my body than before, my knees falter constantly and a sensation of tiredness slides over my mind. 

I find the snake painting just as I’d started to think I would be trapped here forever. 

It’s huge, and despite the years that have probably passed the scales still seem to shine. The head is painted in an angle that gives the illusion of the eyes following the person looking at it. It doesn’t help that the candle’s flames also make the snake look as if it’s moving. Stalking. Before noticing, I start hyperventilating. I shut my eyes close and turn away. Something is terribly wrong with me, I need to get out. 

Turning right, I start running. I cover my ears fearing that if I don’t, I’ll start hearing the snake’s hiss behind me.  

I cross an arch made with the same stone and stop right in my tracks upon realizing somehow I’m back at the room where we first arrived. I blink to adjust my eyes to the change of light, since here’s where all the electric lamps are. The room is empty though. 

I’m not sure of what I am supposed to do now. Sit and wait? Go out to the car?

While I’m weighing my options, trying to choose any that doesn’t imply dropping myself on the floor to have a panic attack, I hear murmurs and steps getting closer.

“Jude!” My little brother yells and runs to me. Behind him, Vivi scans me like she’s trying to find something wrong. I straighten my back and put on my best calmed face.

“Where were you?” She demands. “We lost you hours ago! Are you ok? You look pale.” 

Always such a mother hen, I sigh. “I’m fine. I fell behind and lost y’all. Then... I guessed it would be better to just… return here.”

I try not to frown at my last words, since I didn’t fully intend to say them. You will not tell anybody about what you saw here. 

“Jude knows how to take care of herself.” My father adds. I could hug him, but we’re not exactly the affectionate type. So I just flash him a smile.

Vivi does not look convinced but still stands down. “I guess so. The weather did a mess with your hair though.” A flash of Cardan’s fingers pulling from it to gain access to my neck sends a shiver through my body. Had that really happened just minutes before?

Before I can answer, Marrow calls for us. We turn to find her standing next to a big set of paintings that apparently were covered with a curtain. “You cannot leave without meeting the royal family.”

The canvases are ordered to mimic a family tree. A man with a severe expression rests at the very top. Eldred, I assume. Just by looking at it I feel judged. I can’t imagine what was like to actually live with him. The pictures of his wives look all so different but under them, their sons do have resemblance to one another. A weird sensation tickles my fingers as my gaze continues travelling over the paintings. Finally, I get to the last one. Once more, I cover my mouth to avoid  an undesired sound.

Staring back at me I see Cardan. 

I don’t care if it’s a painting, there is no way I could not recognize those features. Those lips.

“A big family, I see.” Madoc’s words seem so far away.

Marrow hums in agreement. “The Greenbriars always felt proud of their vast offspring. Such attractive sons and daughters. It’s a shame the curse took most of their lives all those centuries ago.” 

“Did he…” I start, without knowing how to continue.

She approaches me to look at the canvas. “Ah, young master Cardan. He was the last one of Eldred’s children.” Then a frown appears on her face. “There was a lot of controversy regarding his death. Some say he died because of the curse, some others say he was the curse. The books all have different versions.”

“That sounds creepy as fuck.” Vivi says. 

“Creepy as fuck.” My brother mimics her, the thoughtful expression on his face makes him look ridiculous. We cackle as Vivi shouts Oak he’s not supposed to say bad words.

By the time we get out of the castle the rain has decreased to a drizzle. 

Madoc carries Oak on his shoulders, listening to his non-stop squeals of excitement after visiting what he calls ‘a real vampire hideout’. This time, I don’t find the words to contradict him. Vivi is the first one to get to the car, shouting back some nonsense about the Greenbriars needing a protection hex. 

The moment I step down from the bridge something shifts in my head and I feel as if I had just woken up. 

Perhaps it is me who needs a protection spell after all. 

Before closing the car’s door, I turn to the castle one more time. Marrow and her husband wave at us from the front gate. 

A dull ache throbs on the base of my neck and my hand flies to the spot. I retrieve it and see blood staining my fingers. 

My heart misses a beat when I lift my gaze to the upper windows, where a tall figure with white shirt and dark hair is looking right back.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Tags: @slightlyrebelliouswriter23​ @sweetlyvillainous​ @poeticbrownmermaid​ @aesthetics-11​ @thesirenwashere​ @jurdanhell​ @nightbringer​ @b00kworm​ @mysweetvillain​ @thefolkofthefic​ @yafandomsdotnet​ @vanessa172003​ @booksandothersecrets​ 

If you wish to be tagged/untagged (or if I forgot to tag you like an utter idot) please let me know!