#didn't expect it to ACTUALLY be haunted >:[[[

[thefanfictionreader]

♡ Rosinante "Corazon" Donquixote Headcanons ♡

A/N : Sorry if there are any mistakes, english is not my first language. It's also my first time writing headcanons.

• His favorite color is blue. I got this headcanon by reading the "Merlot and Primroses" fanfiction written by @physics-of-one-piece and as I was rewatching Law's flash-back, it just made sense when I noticed that as a child Rosinante was often seen wearing blue.

• Plus, blue is in total opposition with pink, which is OBVIOUSLY Doflamingo's favorite color.

• If he was an animal, he would be a black flamingo (yes it exists, it's super rare and they're just normal flamingos but with melanism, we got to see one in 2015).

• The fact that they're super rare really goes well with the fact that Corazon is one of the rare good Celestial Dragons. He's a rare occurance among his breed just like black flamingos.

• I like to think that before infiltrating the Donquixote Family, he wasn't a smoker, I don't think that Daddy Sengoku would have ever allowed him to smoke tbh.

• Just one day, Señor Pink proposed him a cigarette and he accepted. Since then the poor boy got addicted.

• I also think that during his time in the Donquixote Family, Señor Pink was one of the few (if not the one) with whom he actually got along and appreciated to some extent.

• They're both good guys after all.

• I think that one of the main reasons he saved Law (expect for the fact that he's an amazing, perfect, good-hearted person) is because Law reminded him of Doflamingo.

• Yeah I know it's canon, but I think that Corazon always felt "guilty" for not being able to save Doffy from his own evilness and that's why he wanted to take responsability for his brother's actions and stop him.

• I think he volunteered for this mission, I don't think Sengoku sent him as he obviously cares for him and knew how much Doffy could be dangerous.

• He also volunteered in order to see Doffy again because deep inside he missed his older brother and loved him.

• So anyway, since Corazon felt like he "failed" Doffy, he didn't want to fail Law who could have turned just like him growing up.

• That's why he went through such lengths in order to save this kid BESIDES the fact that he loved Law.

• He doesn't hate Doffy nor resent him. It's kinda shown in One Piece Gakuen but also in the original because if he did he would have shot Doffy. Yet both Law and Doffy said that he would never have. And it's true he didn't shot.

• He's an ambivert. Don't ask me why.

• His favorite season is spring and he prefers sunny weather. Again don't ask me why.

• After Sengoku took him in, he had one of the most happiest childhood.

• Sengoku truly showed him how much he loved him. He was spoiled as a kid.

• After his death, Sengoku took his body and gave him a proper burial. Of course Tsuru was there.

• She really liked the boy.

• Doffy didn't regret killing him but he totally felt "sad". I think Doffy asked himself a lot of questions.

• What did he do wrong? Did Corazon still resented him for killing their father? Why choose a brat over his own flesh and blood?

• Doffy also feels like he failed Rosi. After he got rejected by the CD when he brought them their father's head, he went back to where he left Rosi and Rosi wasn't here anymore.

• He spent the 14 years apart from Rosi worrying about him. Even if he never showed it to his crew.

• Since the Minion Island events, he kinda hates Law. When he tried to guilt-tripped Law back on Dressrosa, he was actually expressing his own thought. Plus how he gets mad when he sees that Law carries Corazon's name everywhere. Just like a ghost haunting him. Well, he didn't need Law's intervention to feel haunted by Corazon's ghost.

• Doffy actually has nightmares about what he did to his brother.

• Maybe he wished that Corazon could have escaped this day. So he wouldn't had to kill him in order to make a point, that betrayal is sentenced by death.

• Anyway this is about Corazon not Doffy.

• Corazon is successful in love. Most people find him attractive and he is. The biggest problem when it comes to that is his clumsy persona that might have pushed away some persons once or twice.

• That man doesn't believe in hookup culture.

• He's secretly a hopeless romantic.

• Since he died young and spent 4 years in the Donquixote Family, he didn't have the chance to experiment falling in love etc. But he would have loved to.

• He's more of a dog person but also happens to like cats.

• He drinks but just when he feels bad or when there's some occasion.

• Unlike Doffy he doesn't have nightmares about his childhood. Sengoku gave him enough love to ALMOST make him forget about that. But he still thinks about it when he has an insomnia.

• He often falls out of bed when he sleeps for obvious reasons.

The end! I hope you enjoyed!

[clarabosswald]

the return of captain poppy space babies >>> the story and the engine

[captain-krow-drozdov]

Danny Is An Alternate Version Of Ra's Al Ghul And Flash Already Called Dibs On Adopting Him

Danny In All His Sleep Deprived Slightly Scuffed Up From A Fight Glory Is On His Way To Clockworks Tower To Hopefully Get A Nap And Maybe Some Homework Done When A Natural Portal Opens Up In Front Of Him And Proceeds To Unceremoniously Drop Him In The DC Verse Just Outside Of Central City Before Promptly Closing Leaving A Tired Danny Behind In A Run Down Abandoned Parking Lot.

It's Times Like This When Danny Regrets Putting Off Learning How To Make His Own Portals, Cause Now He Is Very Much Stuck For The Foreseeable Future And He Has No Idea Where Or When He Is. Luckily For Him However Central City Isn't Too Far Away, Unlucky For Him However Is That Once In The City He Realizes This Isn't His Dimension. He's Pretty Sure He'd Remember Something Called The Justice League.

So What Do You Do When Supernatural Bullshit Fails You? You Fall Back On Your Mad Scientist Roots And You Make A Portal Gun. So That's Exactly What Danny Plans To Do.

Unfortunately Staying Alive And Building Questionably Safe Portal Technology Requires Money And Supplies, So He Ends Up Wandering From City To City Doing Odd Jobs/Fixing Up Busted Tech For Cash Or Unwanted Electronics For His "Operation: Get Home" Needs. This Obviously Ends In A Few Superhero Encounter Shenanigans.

Though He Always Ends Up Back Near Central City, Both On The Off Chance The Natural Portal Will Open Up Again And Because Out Of All The Superheroes That Apparently Exist In This Universe The Speedsters Are His Favorite (Red Robin Is Solidly His Second Favorite Ever Since The Gotham Vigilante Gave Him A Large Coffee Filled With Enough Caffeine To Kill A Man).

Unbeknownst To Danny However Is That Every Hero/Vigilante He Has Encountered Has Come To At Least One Of The Following Conclusions; 1. Run Away Meta Who Is In Desperate Need Of A Good Meal/Adoption Bait. 2. Possibly Red Robin/Tim Drake Clone 3. A Good Kid But Could Possibly Be A Future Rouge If Left Unsupervised. 4. Did Bats Get A New Kid And Why Is He Here?

All Flash Knows Is That He Saw The Kid First And Therefore Has Dibs. Suck It Bruce.

Fast-forward A Few Months And Danny Gets Hurt During A Rogue Attack While Trying To Help Some Civilians Get To Safety (Old Hero Habits Die Hard (Ha Die Hard) And All That Jazz) And He Nopes Out Once Everyone Is Safe And When The Paramedics Are Busy With Other People Unaware He Left A Blood Sample Behind.

One DNA Test Brought To You By Paranoid Bat Concerns Of A Possible Red Robin Clone Later And They Find Out That Dannys DNA Matches One Ra's Al Ghul.

They Now Think Danny Is An Escaped Ra's Al Ghul Clone.

Memes For The Vibes:

[bugtoast]

So i was looking around tumblr, and i found @squidflavoredsoup 's posts and like??? y'all i didn't know i wasn't alone in having this weird triangular guy in my house!!

seriously though, what is he even doing here???? how'd he even get inside???? where did he come from, cotton-eye joe???

[sysig]

Me when I get another 2k words into another Helix fic despite having not finished any of the previous ones: 😔😭✍✨

[thatlittledandere]

[thekimspoblog]

Fandom: I think you'd really like this movie/game/show! You should give it a chance!

Me: That doesn't sound very interesting.

Fandom: How can you judge? At least give it a chance.

Me: Fine... (watches trailer) Yeah that looks pretty fucking stupid. Like sure don't judge a book by its cover and all, but there's only so much time in the day and I can confidently say I know my tastes.

Fandom: You can't judge just based on the trailer!

Me: Are you saying the trailer misrepresents what the thing is about? Name one way the thing is different from the trailer.

Fandom: ...

Me: (long-suffering sigh) I guess in the name of intellectual honesty, I can't properly hate on something if I don't engage with it. But I'm warning you up front! I am eight times as often disappointed by a movie/show/game I was excited for than I am pleasantly surprised by something I wasn't.

(Hours, days, weeks, later)

Me: Alright well I gave it the proper college try, and the thing was bad for the exact reasons I thought it looked bad. So bully for me for being actually pretty good at judging books by their covers all along, I guess. So is this the part where you apologize for wasting my time or...?

Fandom: Maybe it just went over your head!

Me: I promise you that it went UNDER my head. That I understood what the thing wanted to say within the first hour or so, and everything after that, I sat there imagining how I would fix it so that that idea could be executed in any innovative or coherent way. If I find myself playing script doctor, I think I have officially devoted twice as much time and thought to this thing as it deserves and TEN TIMES as much as I ever wanted to.

Fandom: ... Well maybe if you watched/played it again!...

Me: What's it going to take to end this conversation? Do you want me to say that you have bad taste? That I know more about the creative process than you? That art is subjective but the simple fact is I understand EXACTLY what you liked about this thing and frankly it makes me respect you less as a person? That you're a lemming who's too easily impressed? Cus I'll say all of that! I've actually been super fucking polite up until now but the fact is whether you're being openly hostile to me or not, you've been extremely disrespectful of my perspective through this entire exchange. At what point do I get to just THINK SOMETHING IS SHIT? I met you half way; the least you could do is say "Yeah maybe I'm biased; I can see the flaws you're pointing out" You're acting like I'm attacking you because my opinion is negative, but you're the one who picked this fight and now that you've gotten me to feel passionate about the thing one way or another, you're the one running away from an actual critical discussion of the text.

[babycharmander]

(BOOK OF BILL SPOILERS)

I just finished reading The Book of Bill and I am kindof losing my mind over some of this stuff.

I had wondered if Alex Hirsch might make Bill sympathetic in some way and oh boy I was not expecting him to do it so successfully (and without cheapening Bill's character).

So, we learn that Bill was born into a 2D world... as a mutant who can see into the third dimension. He claims he was absolutely loved by all, but when talking about his powers, he mentions under Pyrokinesis:

"Cipher, Cipher, he's insane / Starting fires with his brain." The kids in grade school could be so cruel. But where are they now, huh? WHERE ARE THEY NOW?

So probably not quite as liked as he was letting on. To add to that, there's the silly straw page, which looks like silly nonsense until you decipher some of the codes:

"EYE DOCTOR OF A DIFFERENT KIND / WHO WANTS TO MAKE HIS PATIENTS BLIND" "THE DOCTOR SAYS / THREE SIPS A DAY / WILL MAKE THE VISIONS / GO AWAY"

I wasn't sure what this meant until I saw someone point out... he was seeing a third dimension that no one else could see. His parents probably took him to the eye doctor to try to "fix" him. Which, speaking of his eye doctor, the coded message in the section about human eyeballs says something interesting:

"MY OPTOMETRIST NEVER SAW IT COMING"

It could be a joke given beforehand he's talking about dissecting a human eye, but given the previous hints of medical abuse, I wouldn't put it past him that he tried to get revenge on his eye doctor.

Oh yeah and the whole thing about him setting his entire dimension on fire? Yeah it turns out it was entirely a mistake (he just wanted everyone to understand the third dimension he was seeing so they could be free of only two dimensions), he was so traumatized by it he blacks out when trying to recall it. He deeply, deeply regrets it, and...

"What? Your ENTIRE home dimension? destroyed? How? By what?" Bill looked distant, more distant than I'd ever seen him. "By a monster."

He sees himself as a monster.

And yet, he's not some innocent, misunderstood being. He still revels in causing pain and chaos. He's terrible in general, but becomes incredibly abusive toward Ford.

"YOU'RE MY PROPERTY. DON'T FORGET IT. The hillbilly abandoned you, your father won't want you returning without millions, you have no friends, and if you died out here in the snow, who would even miss you?"

Which... speaking of him and Ford...

Yes, yes, I know people ship them. But like, whether you see their relationship as romantic or platonic (I see it as the latter), there's some interesting parallels to be made here.

Both Bill and Ford are mutants who were mocked for their being different. (Bill was not physically a mutant, as far as we know, but more in the sense of him having vision stronger than that of everyone else in his dimension, and also having special powers. And he does describe himself as a mutant.) Both became social outcasts, separated from their families but still haunted by them (Ford seeing commercials of Stan on TV and running across old photos of him and his brother, Bill being haunted by his family in some form). Neither could return home for one reason or another. Both more powerful than their peers (Ford intellectually, Bill in terms of actual powers). Both of them isolated and alone. (Yes, Bill does have the Henchmaniacs, but they seem like shallow friends, and only really seem to follow him out of a desire to have a place to party.)

Ford was not aware of most of this, aside from knowing that Bill could not go home because his dimension was destroyed. But Bill absolutely saw himself in Ford. There was no other person he tried to use whom he felt a stronger connection to.

And he actually seems to care about Ford--he actually gave him a birthday present, and when Ford didn't like it, he decided to get drunk and party with him instead to make up for it.

And then when Ford realizes what Bill's plan actually is and refuses to go along with it, and fights back no matter what Bill does, Bill completely breaks down.

After living for trillions of years, he met someone who was like him, and that person rejected him.

He goes berserk, wreaking havoc, being caught by the dimensional authority that he's been taunting for most of his life.

And then after dying and being cast out of hell for being too annoying, he winds up faced with the Axolotl, who sends him to therapy, where he continues to break down further, sending out the book in a desperate attempt to find someone, anyone who will help him break loose and wreak havoc once again.

"You have no friends, and if you died ... who would even miss you?"

I don't know, Bill. Who would even miss you?

In short,

[ID: The front and back of one of Bill's Valentines cards. On the front is a black void with Bill Cipher lying down without his hat, gazing blankly upwards, with the text "I DON'T WANT TO DIE ALONE" above him. On the back is a simple white "TO/FROM" in red, with a red outline illustration of Bill spontaneously growing a mouth and eating a realistic, bloody heart. /end ID]

[radiance1]

By all accounts, it shouldn't have worked.

By all bloody accounts, that should not have worked.

Constantine will repeat.

That, by all accounts, should not have worked.

The warehouse was shitty. The materials were shitty. The summoning circle was shitty. The chanting was shitty. The magic was shitty.

By all accounts, the summoning should not have worked.

So Constantine couldn't give much of a shit about really stopping it because the summoning was so shitty it shouldn't have worked by an means possible.

So what. In the ever-loving fuck. Was the Ghost King, known tyrant of the Infinite Realms. Standing in the middle of the circle and not, last he checked, imprisoned?

That was another thing that he thought would have made it fail, actually. Because the Ghost King was incapacitated, asleep, gone, unavailable, nada.

So what. The fuck. Was he doing. Here?

Constantine knew the day was going to well to stay that way but wow. The universe loves to fuck him over, apparently.

Or the Justice League in specific.

Or both.

Doesn't matter, because now he has to bullshit his way out of this or get ready to brawl for his life.

Good thing he's good at both of those things, then.

Mostly the bullshit-

"Phantom what the fuck are you doing-" Constantine wheezed out, watching one of their newest members-a ghost going by the name Phantom-fly over in front of the known tyrant and-

Oh.

Oh, holy shit this won't end well.

Ghost King.

Phantom. A ghost.

Well, shit.

This is fine. This is totally fine. He just needs to bullshit his way out of this or face two powerhouses.

This is fine.

He's done worse.

"Sup War" Phantom said, floating around the summoning circle that contained the king of all ghosts like it wasn't a problem. "Didn't expect to be seeing you here."

"Ward." The Ghost King inclined his head slightly, eyes trained on Phantom. "I would not have come here if not for Time's insistence and I have been meaning to..." The King paused, hands gripping and ungrasping the pommel of his sword. "...Check in... on you."

"Aww, were you worried about lil old meeeee?" Phantom, ever the little shit and holy shit did Constantine want to go over there and shut him up, said. Floating around until he was staring upside down in the Ghost King's face. "Didn't know you were so soft, pa."

"I am not soft." The King huffed, flame dancing at the edges of his hair. "I was merely... concerned. Over how you would be acclimating to your circumstances. This world's League of Justice covers far more than your small haunt."

"Weeeell, it's not that bad honestly." Phantom admitted. "Haven't really done anything too big yet just some smallish things here and there. So, you know." The ghost boy shrugged, swinging back in the air to turn upright and crossing his legs. "Nothing too bad."

"Good." The Ghost King nodded, shoulders slumping so slightly that if Constantine wasn't looking, he wouldn't have seen it. "That is good. Yes. Good." The King slightly cleared his throat, grasping and ungrasping the pommel of his sword.

Silence echoed in the warehouse as the King seemingly looked for words to say.

"Would you..." He cleared his throat again, squaring his shoulders and standing up straighter. "Would you like to join me and Time for a meeting? It has been some time since you had last joined us." The King shifted slightly before adding. "Of course, if you're busy you do not have too."

"Sure." Phantom said, rolling back and forth in the air as he hummed. "Been a while since we've had some family time-"

"Family time?" Constantine caught someone-who he thinks was Green Lantern-say. He was just as bewildered.

"And if Time sent you here then it must be important." Danny paused before shrugging. "Or maybe not, can never know with him. But yea, sure. I'll come."

"Wonderful." The Ghost King smiled. Smiled. At Phantom. "Then I shall. Leave. Now. To do. Things. Yes. Things." The summoning circle flashed a familiar green, the same green when the King was first being summoned. "Goodbye, ward."

"You can call me son, you know."

The King paused for a moment, blinking slowly before hesitantly nodding.

"Then goodbye. Son."

The circle flashed and just like that. The king was gone.

"Kid. What the fuck." Whoever said- okay wait no that was Constantine, him. But yea fuck it he agrees with himself. "What the fuck." He repeated.

Phantom, the brat, only gave him a shit eating grin and a peace sign before disappearing on the spot.

[queeniewithabeanie]

The Dreamcatcher

Dpxdc Prompt #26

All vigilantes get bad dreams. Of the ones they couldn't save, the criminals that got away, even of their fellow heroes dying. When you take up the cape you are practically signing an agreement for nightmares to haunt your sleep.

It's apart of the job, no matter how terrible.

One night after a long patrol, when the Bats were all dreading sleep, it was Steph that brought it up.

"We should get dreamcatchers. Hang em up on our doors, they'd help."

No one responded immediately, every single one of them knew that was a pipedream, including Steph.

"If it makes you feel better, go for it Steph." Dick finally obliged, after a too-long awkward silence.

When the intricate dreamcatchers appeared on the doors to their bedrooms a week later no one took them down. They all had ways to cope and if Steph giving all of them dreamcatchers gave her comfort who were they to deny it? Plus it was nice to have a bit of hope, no matter how fragile.

They didn't expect the dreamcatchers to actually work.

Danny had been dragged, beaten, and broken beyond repair by the GIW. He barely escaped their clutches with his half-life still intact and ran off to the closest city he could find, Gotham.

He built a life there, and slowly but surely the threat of the GIW only appeared as a background thought of his waking mind. It was a different story, however, when he was asleep.

They still hurt him every night, only difference was they weren't there to document it and look at him like guinea pig.

So Danny, like the problem-solver he was, made his own solution. After a few too many close calls with Nocturn he had found a way to infuse dreamcatchers with just enough ectoplasm to make them actually work. If they could repel an ancient ghost what was a few bad nightmares? He didn't have money to spare to buy one so he made his own and hung it up by his door.

He started sleeping better, with no nightmares of his own to haunt him, but that didn't mean his nights stopped being interrupted by screams. Not his own, no, apparently living in a city with so much crime and grime could lead to it's own traumatic experiences.

His neighbor's daughter had been kidnapped and trafficked, only recently brought back into his custody. She was 5 and Danny's heart broke every time he woke up to her shrieking.

So he made her a dreamcatcher too.

And then she told some of her friends who had also been hurt by someone, because who in Gotham hadn't, and they requested some dreamcatchers from him as well.

Word spread and soon Danny had a suitably profitable business on his hands.

He didn't charge much, most of his clientele could barely afford food, but he still needed to eat too.

Then the vigilante Spoiler came up to him and asked if he did custom orders.

Danny could see the hope behind the white eyes of her domino, desperation from years of built of pain and suffering.

"No usually, no, but if it's for the heroes of Gotham I can make an exception."

[nightblackowlbat]

Accidental Arranged Marriage AU (v1)

After a reveal gone... weird, the Fentons believe Danny is dead and haunting them and is in denial when he claims to be half alive. They mourn him, and maybe even blame themselves and their research for causing him to become a ghost rather than dying properly.

But he is still their son, and they can't bear to hurt him, so they instead turn to superstitions and traditions from other cultures to try to get him to "move on" or "appease his restless spirit" or "put him at rest."

(Danny is actually eating better than ever now that his parents are regularly leaving out offerings of food at his altar.)

Eventually they come across the ancient Chinese practice of ghost marriage and decide to give it a shot. Maybe Dann-o can't move on because he died single, right? According to their research, ghosts would sometimes appear in their family's dream to tell them which other deceased person they want to marry, so Jack and Maddie hold a seance to consult their dead son.

(you could've just asked, y'know. You don't have to light candles and incense every time you try to talk to me.)

Danny, by this point is exasperated by his parents' failed and increasingly ridiculous attempts, decides to play along and says he wants to marry the Dead Robin.

He didn't expect this to be the time his parents' hairbrained plans actually sorta works.

Anyway, now Danny has to find the poor ghost he accidentally married so that they can get a ghost divorce. Well, guess his parents are getting rid of him after all, because looks like he's going to Gotham.

Now if only the Bats would stop looking at him so weird whenever he says he needs find the dead Robin so that they can annul their marriage.

"Red Hood, what did you do!?!"

"Fuck off! I swear I've never met this guy in my life!"

Version 2

[somnoir]

As a prompt Danny after he enters Gotham for any suddenly starts growing again for the first time since the portal incident and his body instead of slowly again decides to catch up all the missing years of growing at once so Danny goes from still looking 14 to suddenly having his father's height and looking his actual age.

Growing pains.... Literally

Since his death, Danny hasn't really... Grown. His parents think he's a late bloomer, that he'll grow later in life. But it's been four years since he's died and he hasn't grown a single inch in that time.

Frostbite is kind enough to tell me that... Well... He's stuck.

He's stuck in this form until something affects his physical form. Amity, even though it's considered the most haunted place in earth, doesn't have enough ambient ectoplasm for Danny. There are too many ghosts from the realm that feed of it, too many nevermores that need it to exist. Amity feeds it's ghosts but it doesn't have enough for a halfa like him.

When he moved to Gotham for the aerospace program (plus the scholarship) he doesn't expect much from it. People still question him about his age, it almost ends with him flinging his ID and birth certificate on people and cussing them out on his height.

He had even started exploring the city. There was this one cafe he found and the owner, Lily, was an absolute angel! With a shotgun. And he met a lot of people in Lily's Eden Cafe, like this weird kid that apparently dropped out of high school. Now, Danny ain't one to judge, so he's pretty okay with Tim. Except for the fact that he was so cool and smooth on a skateboard. Danny wanted one too.

Almost a week after moving, he's suffering. His body hurts, everything aches. It's as if something inside of him was trying to break out and it's making his bones strain. Everything about it hurts.

Many days passed of Danny being delirious from the pain, barely able to register what he was doing. A week and it's like he spent a coma walking around while his consciousness was asleep, practically dead by the lack of his memories.

The next time he woke up, it's been a week since he blacked out from the pain.

There's music in the background, almost familiar. The beat is something he heard Ember compose before his eighteenth birthday, then it was practically blasted through our the Ghost Zone when the day actually came.

"Shhh! Turn that racket down!"

"Hell nah! He likes it, see?"

"The little king seems.... To......change... Gotham..."

His eyes snapped open, gasping when he saw multiple pairs of eyes looking down at him.

"He's alive!"

Danny's instincts took over in that second and he's sending a blast of ecto towards the sudden scream. More screaming. Too much screaming. His head hurt.

"Holy shit, baby pop!"

He takes a moment before he's recognizing Ember... And the hole on his wall... And his glowing hand. Shit.

"Woah, woah! Calm down."

In Danny's confused state, he could barely register Kitty and Johnny in the room. Oh, and Shadow too. But still...

"I— What happened?" He groaned, blinking slowly. "WHAT THE FUCK?!"

His voice... OH MY GOD HIS VOICE! Why was it so deep?! What was wrong with his voice? Did he have a cold or something? Or maybe it's just his morning voice—

"Congrats on your dawning!" Johnny congratulated, grinning like a madman.

"What?" ooh, that was weird, "What the heck is an dawning?"

"Ooh, baby pop!" Ember cooed, "Forgot that our little king is still pretty new to being all ghost. C'mon now, baby. Mama Ember will teach you all about ghost puberty."

"GHOST WHAT?!"

Ghost puberty was a thing apparently. He had hauled himself into the Far Frozen after yelling at the four ghosts to steal him some clothes that would actually fit him. Because his entire body felt wrong... So wrong.

He was taller now. Having shot up from 5'4" to a whopping 6'2". Everything still hurt and now all his clothes didn't even fit! Nothing looked right when he'd looked at the mirror. He was almost as tall a shis dad now—he looked almost exactly like his dad now actually. It was almost terrifying how much he resembled his dad. If he went to visit now, he's sure that his mother would have a heart attack from how quickly he had grown.

"Frostbite!" Danny practically growled and oooh... Yeah, now it sounded differently to whenever he'd end up snarling. The deepness of his voice almost intimidated him.

"Great one!" The yeti greeted, looking utterly ecstatic to see him. "Ah, I see you've finished your dawning. I offer my sincerest congrats, your majesty."

"Yeah, yeah. The fuck is a Dawning?"

Frostbite blinked, before his expression morphed into a grim one. "Oh dear... I had thought that the Observants would have deigned to explain this too you upon your coronation... Well, let us sit then, great one. This will be a long one."

To summarize it all, Ghost puberty.

A Dawning was a time every ghost went through, so long as there was enough ambient ectoplasm around them to help their forms morph into their preferred appearances. Usually, a ghosts appearance to their own mentality. Their maturity.

Apparently, Young Blood already went through a Dawning but remained in his child-like form due to his own mental age. He was a child in heart, mind, soul, and body.

Meanwhile... Danny who was still alive yet also dead, had followed on with his mental maturity. His body morphed, it changed, it adapted to how he saw himself, how he desperately wanted to become deep down in his core.

And this Danny Fenton was a 6'2" giant trying to control all his limbs that were suddenly too long, too heavy. Everything felt strange....

Tim Drake's favorite cafe was known for being neutral ground for both rogues and vigilantes. You don't fuck around Lilian's cafe or else she'll pull out a rifle and shoot you dead. So if course, Tim fucking loved the place.

Actually, many people frequented it.

He's familiarised himself with the faces of a lot of people by then. Even that scrawny new kid that arrived three weeks ago. Tim remembers Danny for how enthusiastic he was about going to collage, not even minding the madness of Gotham itself. It was like he thrived in it.

He waves at Lilian after ordering his usual, taking a seat in the corner before he's whipping out his laptop. Duke and Steph arrive soon after, immediately ordering before going off to join Tim.

Mundane things, something they all seemed to appreciate more.

The bell rings, more customers arrive and—

"Danny! Holy hell, what happened?"

Tim paused, immediately snapping his eyes towards— WHAT THE FUCK?!

Steph whistled, "Hot damn..."

Danny Fenton was a scrawny young man, shorter than Tim. Even more slim.

But whoever the hell entered the cafe was 6'2", almost as muscled as Jason, and slouching like Clark—as if he was in the wrong body. He almost dropped his drink if not for Duke gently guiding his hand down.

"Hey, Lils..."

God, what the fuck was that? What was happening? Who the hell was this awkward adonis with a voice as deep as the fucking ocean?

"Tim?" Duke waved his hand over his eyes, "Timothy? Timbers?"

"Duke, leave him alone. He's gone, never coming back." Steph snickered, shaking her head before her eyes went back to Danny, who was stuttering as he tried to order what he wanted. "But damn if I wouldn't act the same. Shoot your shot—"

Shoot his fucking shot he did.

"Hey Danny..." Tim slid up to him with a smile.

Danny blinked—woah was he tall and practically built like a fucking fridge—before his eyes brightened and a smile joined his expression.

"Hi Tim!"

Was this how Bruce felt like when he saw Clark?

Masterpost

[paintedwritings]

Leaving For A Mission

Pairing: Azriel x Reader (She/her pronouns used)

Word Count: 3.5k

Summary: Azriel and his mate before he leaves on a mission and the anxiety that comes with it.

Warning/Notes: There's kind of adult content, not too much. I don't really know what I'm doing. This is my first time ever posting anything that I've written. So sorry if it's bad, just trying to put myself out there. Thank you for any feedback.

✩☽✧✩☽✧✩☽✧✩☽✧✩☽✧✩☽✧✩☽✧✩☽✧✩☽✧✩☽✧✩☽✧✩☽✧✩☽✧✩☽✧

Taking a deep breath, Y/n stood patiently behind the rest of the Inner Circle as they began their farewells to the shadowsinger. A ritual of sorts, before the spymaster of the Night Court left on what –she had been told– would be a fairly simple mission to the Mortal Lands.

Despite the supposed simplicity of the mission, the Inner Circle always made sure to say proper goodbyes to each other. Just in case, Rhys had said to her once. 

It made sense, truly, but it didn’t lessen her growing fears for the man, for her mate. Gods, she still wasn’t used to that word, she had only known about the bond for about three weeks, and this was Azriel’s first mission out of the Night Court since then. To say she was a nervous wreck would be the understatement of the century.

Sure, she had known Azriel for close to a year now and he had gone on hundreds of missions in that time, but now it felt different. It felt closer. Like now she wouldn’t be able to separate herself from the situation if things were to go awry, she was entangled in a way that took root deep within her.

Y/n had no idea how she was supposed to act, is she allowed to be worried, to feel a hollow cleaving in her chest that grows tenfold as the minutes tick by? Would he be expecting her to act a certain way, would she disappoint him?

 The two of them hadn’t accepted the bond yet, were still getting to know each other on a more intimate level. They had been friends before she knew about the bond, and not much had changed in the short period of time. She would be lying to herself if she thought his absence, of any kind, in her life wouldn’t send her into a whirlwind of unwanted emotions and grief, though.

Perhaps, that scared her the most. How much she had grown to care for the shadowsinger in a few short months, and how it had only deepened in the past few weeks. 

She could feel herself falling deeper and deeper into him, into their bond, but it didn’t matter how close the ground came to her, she couldn’t stop the inevitable impact. She didn't want to stop it.

They–she– had wanted to take things slow. He had been so kind about it, understanding that this was all still very new to her. When she had asked to move slow, her mate had merely smiled at her and assured her that he was fine with whatever pace she was most comfortable with. Her anxiety nearly extinguished with the sentiment.

Azriel had known about the bond for quite a while longer than she had. He had wanted to wait until she felt that glowing tether on her own, though. So, he had patiently waited and they had become rather close in the first few months of meeting one another. 

He had helped train her in Valkyrie training, had joined her nearly every night in the library, the two of them reading their own novels, or reports, deep into the night. Simply basking in each other’s presence. He always brought her trinkets from other courts he’d visit, or take her down to the bakeries of Velaris to try her favorite sweet treats, claiming he wanted to try them himself, though never actually doing so.

Truly, she shouldn’t have been so caught off guard with the realization of their mate bond, every interaction they had ever had only emphasized what they had been to each other, she had just been too caught up in her past to look towards the present, at what had been right in front of her.

Three weeks ago was when everything had changed. 

Y/n had been awoken in the dead of night, half-asleep and delirious from dreams of dusty texts and haunted libraries, by small, dark tendrils of shadows. Very panicked shadows. They had all but dragged her out of her bed, not even giving her a moment to collect herself, or throw a robe on over her near-non existent nightgown. 

Pulling her out of her door and down the hallway before she could register the cold wooden floor beneath her small feet or the way the hallway had been entirely consumed by writhing darkness.

His shadows had led her to a door, his door, she had recognized almost instantly, pushing and pulling at her to enter. 

Had she had even a moment to think, she would have noticed the door had already been cracked open, and that the unnatural darkness of the hallway seemed to be being fed by that very opening. She would have realized that the shadowsinger never left anything in such disarray, had never so much as forgotten to close a door behind him, let alone leave it unlocked.

But, she hadn’t had a moment, because she could hear something coming from within the room. Something that sounded so foreign to her fae ears she hadn’t even realized what it was before she barged into his room, his shadows leading her straight to– what she assumed– was his bed in the center. 

Suddenly, she thanked the shadows for being with her in that moment, she had never seen anything made of pure obsidian darkness, she never would have been able to navigate his room without their small jabs and urgent pulls.

And the noise she had heard, a noise that cast her bones, her skin, her very being into an icy oblivion, was Azriel. 

A whimper.  

A small, clipped sound that kept repeating, over and over and over–

Y/n needed that sound to stop, it set her entire being on edge, made her want to find and slaughter whatever had caused the noise to come from the Spymaster of the Night Court. One of the most feared fae in all of Prythian.

Climbing onto the bed, her hands splayed in front of her, she searched for him, for his warm and constant presence she had become so accustomed to. 

“Azriel?” She whispered, doing her best to avoid startling him, a feat she wasn’t sure possible if his shadows were any indication. Surely they had tried to help him? To wake him from whatever nightmare seemed to be causing such distress? Why had they come to get you? Surely another member of the Inner Circle, his family who had known him much longer than you, would have been a better option.

Her hand met with cold, scarred skin. His hand.

She didn’t realize in her panic the mistake she made, that she should have tried calling out to him, again.

Within a breath the world tilted on its access, the all-consuming darkness seemed to disappear, leaving her with a dark, but plain, view of the bedroom she had somehow found herself in. 

Cold steel pressed against her jugular, a warm trickle of blood cascading down her throat, a shadow chasing it as if it could make the small injury disappear all on its own. She didn’t dare move, afraid she may accidentally slit her own throat.

Dark, nearly black, eyes stared down at her, one large hand clasping both of hers above her head, teeth no more than a millimeter away from her face. 

Gods.

This. This was the terrifying spymaster of the Night Court. No wonder so many fae, old and young alike, trembled at the mere mention of his name. He had moved within a moment's notice, perfect precision, snarling at whoever dared come into his room while he slept. He must keep knives within reach, cauldron, she had been too rash in her attempts to help him.

Despite her current position, she couldn't help but find the male before her so achingly attractive. Who would have known that having an Illyrian warrior threaten death would be such a turn on? No. Not just any Illyrian warrior, Azriel.

Well, there had to be something so severely wrong with her, because she could feel herself getting wetter as the moment passed slowly, could only imagine the arousal that had permeated from her, the pout of her lips as she waited to see what would happen next, waited to see what he would do to her next.

But, within it all there hadn’t been a lick of fear. Azriel could have slit her throat if he’d wanted to, but instead he stayed pressed against her, pressing her body so thoroughly in the bed that she didn’t know where he began and she ended. His hard, very naked, chest aglow with a slight sweat, his intoxicating aroma infiltrating her senses so completely, she can't help how her eyes roll back. Her fingers twitching absently as they lay pinned above her head, feeling his rapid pulse beating against her skin. Her nipples pebbling against her dark nightgown, hitting his chest at the deep rise and fall of her labored breathing.

Then, as if the fog cleared, recognition flared behind his eyes, his hand dropped hers, the knife being so swiftly discarded she couldn’t help that small noise that escaped, the nick already healing over. 

“Y/n,” a choked, broken sounding rendition of her name falling from his lips as he pulled off of her entirely, leaving her feeling far colder than mere moments before. He didn’t go far, though, sitting back on his knees at the end of the bed.

“I’m so sorry, I didn’t–”

Sitting up, her legs not coming anywhere close to the end of his massive bed, she couldn’t help the instinct to feel at her throat. His shadows had wound their way through strands of her hair and around her wrist, almost as if trying to soothe her, but, why not their master?

“It’s alright,” she spoke softly, doing her best to calm the shadows all around her. One danced along her arm, following a tattoo that represented her dedication to the Night Court and its people, a smile blistering on her face as she ran her opposite hand over it.

If she had looked away from the small shadow she would have noticed Azriel staring at her, his breaths still laborious, still being tamed. He had never seen anyone look at his shadows like she did, as if they were pets, a part of a family that would falter without them, not some terrifying representation of all the hardships he had had to endure in his long life. He wished he could commission Feyre to paint the image before him.

Y/n– his mate, sitting on his bed in nothing short of a slip, leaving very little to the imagination– speaking soft, carefree words towards his shadows, towards him. He didn’t think she knew exactly how his shadows worked, but he’d rather keel over than stop her menstrations of calming, coaxing coos.

He was trying desperately to ignore the lingering scent of her arousal in the air, trying to ignore what that could mean, what could have caused it.

“They brought me here,” she finally spoke, her eyes meeting his, at last. “They seemed… worried about you,” quickly she amended, “I was worried about you.”

“I’m sorry,” he said once more, some of his dark curls falling forwards as he cast his gaze down. “Sometimes the nightmares– they leave me unable to control them entirely, I didn’t mean to wake you.”

He felt her move, her lavender and frost-chilled scent enveloping him wholly, he didn’t dare look up as she pressed her knees against his. Her small hands coming up to cup his cheeks, soothing one of her thumbs along the bone.

His breathing faltered for the second time that night. She had never touched him so bravely, as if she had every right to.

Azriel wanted to tell her that she did have the right. That she could touch him whenever and he would bask in whatever small amount of affection she’d willing give him.

“Do you want to talk about it?” Her voice sounded small, as if she were just as affected by their skin touching. As if, just maybe, she could feel the warmth radiating through the bond he had tried so desperately not to force on her.

Shaking his head, he clasped the hand that still cradled him like he was something precious, something worth holding onto. His eyes finally met hers once more, his tongue darting out across his lips, wetting once, then twice.

Her eyes tracked the movement, memorized it, her own tongue darting out against her will. His eyes snapping to the movement. That’s when she felt it.

He watched her eyes widen, her breath catch suddenly, her grip on his face tightening just a fraction, holding herself to him, afraid that letting go would mean toppling off the edge of this world.

“Az–” she began.

Fingers snapped in front of her, pulling her out of her thoughts. Everyone stared directly at her, how long had she been zoning out? Seven pairs of eyes, each varying in degrees of understanding and out-right laughter, waited for you, having obviously missed whatever had just been said. And then, she looked into his golden pools of hazel, an emotion she wasn’t quite ready to acknowledge staring back at her as she took all of him in. Strapped to the nth degree with all kinds of daggers and weapons, his leathers buckled and placed deliberately on his generous figure, and his blazing siphones glimmering with dark, unforgiving power. He looked lethal.

And delicious.

His eyes darkened as the thought races past her defenses, ramming straight through her side of the bond and into his. 

Oh, cauldron-boil her. 

She still, clearly, had a lot of work to do when it came to keeping her mental shields up.

Now everyone was looking between the two of them, seemingly too afraid to move or say anything in fear that it would cause y/n and Azriel to jump each other’s bones here in front of everybody.

Cheeks heating, she squealed, “I’m sorry, what?”

Cassian, the one responsible for the finger-snapping, looked amused. His chaotic energy seeming to burn alive from within him. It had been no secret that Rhys and Cassian had known about her bond with Azriel, more than delighted that their brother had found someone he cherished. 

Because Azriel did cherish her, in more ways than she could comprehend. Everyday he showed her how much he cared for her, how much he would do to make her happy, to keep her safe.

They had gone on multiple dates since she discovered their bond, but they had yet to do anything other than talk to each other, learn each other. And, she wanted to learn about him, she wanted to know everything.

Her face warmed, a small smile lighting her face at the thought.

A crooked smirk graced the Commander’s features, a smirk that promised teasing and jokes at her expense, one that made it clear he knew exactly what she was thinking about.

Cassian opened his big mouth, likely to poke fun at her.

“We just thought you might want a moment alone with Az before he leaves,” Rhys cut in smoothly, effectively earning a glare from his red-siphoned warrior. Rhys merely gave him a look, one that seemed to say ‘We’ve been in this situation, too’. Effectively shutting whatever maniacal thought had been about to jump off Cassian’s tongue.

“Okay.” She whispered, hands clasping before her nervously. 

Then it was just the two of them. 

Standing a few feet apart, neither quite sure how to handle this situation. She wondered if he felt what she did, if he could feel her worry and her desperation for him not to go. 

It was selfish, she knew that. 

It didn’t stop it from being true.

He closed the space between them in an instant, his toes touching hers, the only part of him touching her.

“Are you–” He seemed to search for the words, “I will be back in three days, I swear to you.” He settled on. 

Y/n smiled at him, doing her best to calm his nerves. She would be here, safe and not putting her life on the line– unless one counted coming up with a plan to tie all of the General’s shoelaces together– he would be in far more danger. She needed to do this for him.

Taking a breath, she laced her fingers with his, somehow managing to step even further into him, into her mate.

She wanted him to know that she would miss him, desperately, that she would be counting down the minutes until he returned to her, that she would worry about his safety and well-being relentlessly. She allowed each feeling and thought to travel to him through that golden string tying him to her.

Rhys had said that they always say goodbyes in case of tragedy, she didn’t want him to leave without knowing how she felt.

Lifting her other arm, she looped it around his neck, dragging the foreheads against one another. A sharp twitch of his wings the only indication that she affected him as much as he affected her.

His eyes bore into hers as she spoke softly, for only him to ever hear, “Please, come back home to me safely.” A plea.

A small, sad sound came from him as he wrapped both of his arms around her middle, their chests flush against each other. “I will, I promise.” His lips gracing her forehead. Gods, she wanted him to kiss her, had been dreaming of what it would feel like to have his soft, cool lips caress her own. Or to have his scarred, beautiful hands run along her skin.

It wasn’t enough, she knew he couldn’t really promise her his safety, though hearing him do so did ease her warring anxiety slightly, but she wanted more. Needed more.

“When you return, will you spend three full days with me, just the two of us?” She pouted, “To make up for leaving me in such a distressed state,” he hummed at the teasing lilt in her tone, an uncontainable smile encompassing his face.

“How about we double it, just to be safe.” Her smiled matched his own.

“Deal.”

Before she could second guess herself, she placed a chaste kiss upon his left cheek, feeling him stiffen in surprise before melting at the sentiment. There must be something in the air, she thought, because she couldn’t help herself from kissing his right cheek, then his forehead, his nose, even his chin. Trying to calm her beating heart, to soothe the bond within her that screamed to never let him go.

As he set her back down to her feet, heart in her stomach, she knew it was time for him to leave. He must have felt the dread, too, because he didn’t step away from her. 

Cauldron, why was this so difficult? She already missed the way his warmth cradled her. How would she possibly be able to get anything done while he was away, he had already taken over her thoughts, and he hadn’t even left yet.

Before she could take that final step back, he grabbed her once more, softly, before bringing her forwards and connecting his mouth with hers.

A gasp escaped her, her hands flying to his leathers, grabbing on for dear life as she melted into him. 

He tasted like pure bliss. His mint breath and cedar scent taking complete control of all her senses.

One of his hands cradled her cheek as he kissed her, his mouth soft, but firm as he coaxed noises out of her she hadn’t even realized she could make. He kissed her like his life depended on it, like he was starving and she was all he could eat, all he could ever need. 

His other hand found its way into her hair, pulling gently to guide her mouth more securely against his own, a groan tumbling out of him. 

She burned, her body, her soul, she wasn’t sure how she ended up with her legs around his waist, or her hands in his dark curly locks, pulling and massaging, but there they were. 

Devouring each other shamelessly in the middle of the House of Wind’s foyer. 

She mewled as his tongue darted between her lips, swiping past her teeth and dominating her fully. She couldn’t get enough, her body seemed to have a mind of it’s own as she began grinding slowly on him, trying to claw her way into his body, his soul, anything to keep him from leaving her in this moment.

“Fuck,” he said breathlessly, “You’re so fucking perfect.” he nipped her bottom lip, a quick flick of his tongue against it one last time as if he couldn’t help it.

A cough came from behind them, jolting Y/n so thoroughly that she would have toppled over if not for Azriel’s iron-clad grip on her hips.

The snarl that left the shadowsinger would have sent any lesser fae running for their lives. But, Rhys, as put-together as always, merely smirked at his Spymaster.

“Sorry to interrupt,” He winked at the girl slowly dying of embarrassment in her mate’s arms, “but it’s time to head out.”

Azriel managed a small, choppy nod before setting Y/n down one last time. A quick kiss to her head, the last goodbye he could offer before he disappeared within his shadows. 

Leaving his mate and his heart behind.

[sunderwight]

I love thinking about how a Shen Yuan reveal would go from Luo Binghe's perspective, maybe even especially in cases where Binghe doesn't actually get to see Shen Yuan's world or understand it very well.

Imagine finding out that your husband is some kind of interdimensional alien spirit/angel who saw your fate and got so upset about it that he died. Then he came to your world, even though he didn't know that was possible, but since it was he immediately set about making your life less shitty and trying to change your fate. Except he couldn't change all of your fate because some kind of godlike being, the same one that brought him here, didn't want to let him. He's haunted by the fact that he couldn't figure out better ways to help you. He never expected any of his regard to be reciprocated, either, in fact he assumed you'd hate him. You never had to convince him to love you or respect you. He has always loved and respected you. There's basically nothing you can do to lose that love and respect either, because the first version of you that he even knew about was your edgelord comphet idiot mirror universe counterpart.

The bar has been at the earth's crust this entire time.

The fluffy parts of this reveal are obviously good, but I also think Luo Binghe deserves to know just how fully terrible his husband's judgment is. Also that Shizun has been dying for him since before they even met.

I think it'd be fun how often that would probably keep him awake at night, quietly trying not to have a crisis over the fact that his husband has made an honest to god habit of dying for him.

[emacrow]

Thank you for accepting the courtship.

Raven was using an ancient forbidden ritual to Pariah King of the infinite realm to stop Trigon and Darkseid to stop them from taking over this universe. The proper gift in term in the book for the ritual to be accepted said to be her firstborn whenever she were to have one, and it seemed the ritual was accepted.

She expected some old man in dark ancient armor to come out of the summoning ritual portal, except it wasn't Pariah King who came out.

A aurora crown floated upwars, then a white blob emerged only to be white long hair that kept going upward, growing longer and longer tall silhouette nearly 12-14 feet tall.

Hundreds of thousands of tiny stars in the white hair swirling toward the face with pointed ears, forming into three glowing yet dull green eyes with darken specks of stars underneath the eyelids and cheeks, a blackish blue like breaking open like a tear to reveal sharp gleaming white teeths, a dark blue tongue.

The clothes that this entity form beneath that resemble 1980s hazmat clothes that flickered from and to a royal clothes with jewels of tiny planet yet unnerving as if it haven't decided which to be and out of place that nearly made Raven's eyes wanted to avoid looking at it.

She didn't falter nor didn't flinch as this being glanced at the ritual symbols, tilting his head as if interested before before the three eyes looked back at her that made her heart wanted to stop as the used to be dulled eyes sparkled a bit.

Then, the being grew smile that would've made the Joker cry, Much to Raven's inner horror and nearly every empticlones in nevermore screaming at her to run and hide.

"I, Phantom, Prince and Savior of the infinite realms from the Mad King, Defender of Pandora's box, Balancer of Time, accept your gift." The voice was barely a whisper that almost sounded rich smooth as velvet, yet loud enough to hear clearly to raven.

With a simple wave of his long, arachnodactyly fingers as if waving off an annoying fly before shrinking slowly with a gleam of white light evenly enveloping to reveal a 9'4 foot tall lanky bat adoption bat guy.

Black long-haired, put in a clumsy doubled braided with blue and red flowers, held polka dotted scrunchies, girly hair clips with unicorn themes, soft blue eyes that were redish in the corner and a soft delicate face that Raven definitely wasn't ogling in her nevermore mindscape.

"Thank you for accepting the courtship."

"Your welcome."

....

....

Raven's mind blanch a bit realizing what he just said.

"Wait, What?"

...

...

Danny was doing just fine, just fine indeed as he was sitting in Jazz’s house, his niece rebraiding his hair as he shoved another giant handful of Fudge brownies into his mouth.

Ellie was moving into her boyfriend six month ago, and there was nothing Danny could do seeing his little girl move on without him.

Empty nest syndrome Jazz and his parents told him. Sam suggested another online dating, but being a famous, well-known Savior of Earth after Disasteroid came a lot of girls and even boys who see danny as a hero or for his fame and fortune instead of Danny.

Not to mention the ghosts, the stupid eyeballs trying to present another candidate for him to Wed which he refused.

He has used raising ellie as the common excuse that turned into actually doting parenting, but now..

He couldn't go back to his haunt castle after she moved out without burying himself in her childhood room, holding her old worned out red beanie hat that she didn't wear anymore.

Kids grow up and move on from their parents, but they always come back when in need.

He did something out of impulse due to his empty nest syndrome, which was going a bit haywire by the day and Sam, Val and Tucker won't let him bring them over to hang out especially when they are busy.

He made a ritual with clockwork help that randomly appeared in any other dimensions, then his own to pick the right person to court at the right time.

Now all he has to do is wait.

(I got inspired by this post here <- )

[theveryworstthing]

The 5th Headless Haunting: Hand Rod

No one expected Rodney to come back to the studio after the accident. Some did, jokingly, wonder about how Lucy was taking it though. She was very level headed for a goose, but she was also sensitive, with a flair for the dramatic, and grief can really run a person (or puppet) through the wringer.

They made sure she was involved of course. She sat with the family at the funeral, noticeably quiet in her tiny gold trimmed black dress. His mother had requested her presence, even though some joyless news outlets found the whole thing a little silly. The people who actually knew Rodney didn't care though. He was a silly guy! That silliness created Lucy, and Lucy and her friends had touched enough hearts over the years that everyone was starting to doubt if they'd ever get through the piles of heartfelt letters and art dropped off at the studio every day.

So. Anyway. No one expected Rodney to come back. And he didn't.

It's been 6 years now and Lucy's "new performer " never talks to the public. Eggshell Workshop says that she's a little shy and eccentric, and would rather everyone just focus on Lucy. So far these wishes have been respected. So far, they're getting away with it.

These days the fans marvel at how perfect the voice match is. It's great. Sure everyone who Knows had to get used to...how things are now. Even when the cameras aren't rolling she's up and about a lot, wandering the studio, leaving sassy little notes in the writer's room, psychologically torturing that one executive maybe they don't know and also he definitely deserved it.

Once a year she has a nice mother daughter memorial brunch with Rodney's mom.

Everyone who Knows has vowed to guard Lucy's...private life. their goal is to keep lazy youtubers and ghost hunters focused on whatever gory creepypasta baby show fanfic they come up with this week instead of their actual haunted fleece-skinned coworker. Lucy finds all that fuss hilarious of course, she's never shied away from the spotlight, and she wouldn't mind a small role as the worlds most glamorous horror icon, but she appreciates how offended her studio family gets for her.

Maybe the truth will be revealed when (if) she ever decides to retire.