#edit 2: now with ao3 link!

[matchingbatbites]

Love Grows - Part 1

This is my take on teen dad Steve! It was just supposed to be a ficlet, but the word count is currently hovering at 4k and I'm not done, so this will be going up in parts. <3

Ao3 | Part 2

February '85

The rumors have been flying for weeks. It only took one cheerleader to see Steve Harrington out and about with a baby and soon enough the news was all over the school. Nevermind that no one else has even seen said baby, but just the one accusation is enough to send the rumor mill into production.

It's something that had piqued Eddie's interest, but he quickly attributed it to teenagers spreading drama, a fiction created for their own entertainment. That is, until the day Harrington shows up to school with the baby.

The halls are buzzing, more so than usual, and it only takes until second period for Eddie to realize why. The entire class breaks into whispers when Steve walks in with a baby carrier in one hand, a piece of paper in the other, and a diaper bag slung over his shoulder. The paper goes to the teacher, who reads it before saying something to Steve, and Eddie is so curious but unable to hear anything over the chatter in the room.

Eddie can’t take his eyes off Steve for the rest of the class. He watches as the carrier finds a home on the floor, right by Steve’s desk, and Eddie has a perfect view of the little, rosy-cheeked baby girl from his seat two rows behind Steve (at least, Eddie’s assuming it’s a girl. The blanket tucked around her is a soft pink, so-). He sees every time Steve leans over to check on her, sees how her big eyes flick up to look at him, how she smiles around the pacifier in her mouth. 

It makes Eddie go all gooey inside; he's always loved kids, always hoped to find a guy who is good with them, and seeing Harrington being so attentive only increases the low-key crush he has on the other guy (he knows it’s a little pathetic, but Steve is very attractive, and Eddie is very gay, sue him). When the class ends, Eddie gathers his stuff slowly so he has an excuse to hang back a little and watch Steve interact with the baby some more, but soon enough the younger is also packed up and out the door.

Eddie doesn't see Steve again until later that day, when he's skipping out on 5th period and hears a baby crying as he passes by a closed classroom door. He peeks in through the window and sees Harrington pacing slowly while holding the baby against his shoulder, one arm supporting her from the bottom as his free hand rubs circles into her back. 

For a moment Eddie thinks about walking on, about just leaving Steve alone as he comforts his wailing child, but the cries pull hard on Eddie's heartstrings and he finds himself opening the door and slipping inside.

"Everything okay?" he asks, and Steve looks up in surprise before his expression shifts into something unreadable. 

"Yeah, we're fine. She's just extra fussy because she's teething. I came in here because I don't want to disturb anyone else." 

Eddie hums and goes to the nearby diaper bag, starts digging through it and is surprised when Steve doesn't tell him to stop. He finds a little bottle of numbing gel and smears some onto his pinky before sliding it into the baby's still wailing mouth, and carefully rubs it over her gums as he coos at her. 

"I know, honey, it hurts so bad. It's gonna be okay, though, just you wait." 

He glances up to see Steve staring at him, his expression curious, and Eddie suddenly feels overexposed. 

"My last neighbor had two jobs and three small kids, so I have a little experience with babies," Eddie explains, needing to fill the sudden silence that falls as the baby calms. His finger is still in her mouth, and he feels no desire to remove it, especially once she starts gnawing on it gently. Steve glances down at his girl before giving Eddie a soft smile, and Eddie's heart flips in his chest. 

"That's more than I have, at least. Thanks." 

"No worries, man. What, uh- what's her name?"

"Rosemary," Steve says, humming when the baby makes a soft noise. "At least, that's what I'm changing it to, as soon as I'm able." 

The warmth that had settled in Eddie's stomach sours a little at Steve's declaration, and as he pulls his finger from the baby's mouth he can't help biting out "And her mom is okay with you changing her name?" 

The atmosphere in the room changes as Steve's face crumbles, and Eddie knows he's said something wrong. 

"Her mom didn't want anything to do with her," Steve replies softly, and oh no, Eddie instantly feels like a piece of shit. He'd heard the rumors that some girl had just dumped the baby on him, but he didn't think they were true. 

"Shit, I'm so sorry, man. I didn't mean to assume anything." 

"It's okay. No one really knows about the whole… situation." 

There's an awkward pause before Eddie asks "So, Rosemary. Your choice wouldn't happen to be inspired by a certain Edison Lighthouse song, would it?" He smiles when Steve blushes, the pink dusting his face so sweetly as he shrugs. 

"It was my grandma's favorite song, and a lot of my happy memories are with her, so... I've already started calling her Rosie, so she'll be used to it." 

"It’s a good name," Eddie hums, rubbing his thumb over Rosie's tiny eyebrow. "She's a cute kid, Harrington."

Steve mutters a soft “Thanks,” and then there’s a brief pause before he asks "Do you- do you want to hold her?" and Eddie doesn't even hesitate before nodding and giving a quick “Yes!”

He takes off his jacket and vest in one go, knowing the fabric is a little rough, and takes the baby when Steve offers her to him. He holds her close, one hand supporting her and the other resting on her back, and starts to sway a little. "I haven't held a baby in like, two years. I forgot how calming it is." Steve hums and smiles as he sits on a nearby desk. “Yeah, it is.”

They spend the rest of the time just talking about whatever comes to mind, and it's really fucking nice. Eddie learns about the gaggle of kids Steve babysits ("They're all shitheads, but I love them, even when they're using me as a chauffeur.") and Eddie talks a little about his own friends, his band ("I mean being famous is the end goal, but it's also just fun to get together and be creative just for the sake of it, you know?") and before they know it, the bell is ringing to signal the end of the period. 

Steve frowns, a cute pout that tugs on the corners of his mouth, and Eddie has to bite back a smile at the expression. He sets a now sleeping Rosie back into her carrier before shrugging on his jacket and vest, and hesitates for a moment. 

"Listen, Harrington. I know that we don't really know each other, but I've seen firsthand how tough this single parent shit can be, so. If you ever need a hand, or need someone to watch her so you can get shit done, you can ask me, yeah? No worry, no judgment."

Steve blinks at him, big hazel eyes flicking between Eddie's like he's making an insight check against Eddie's words. He must like what he finds, because he smiles softly and says "Thanks, Munson."

And Eddie shrugs, and smiles in return. "Call me Eddie, man."

[lavendead]

It’s been a while *cough* years *cough* since I’ve posted a rec list and since I’ve recently broken 50 Osaaka recs on my running haikyuu list I decided it’s about time for an update. So without further ado here’s my 50 Osaaka recs:

1. a stuttering of the heart by hoesome - https://archiveofourown.org/works/30441270

2. Akaashi Keiji’s Hands are Always Cold by Taryo88 - https://archiveofourown.org/works/28316406

3. and i never saw you coming by tearsricochett - https://archiveofourown.org/works/40600674

4. and i would walk 500 miles by goldplate (ramshackleheads) - https://archiveofourown.org/works/29082276/chapters/71388618

5. are you free on thursday night? by floatyourself - https://archiveofourown.org/works/27368869/chapters/66879562

6. at a (un)reasonable distance by vroomvroommic - https://archiveofourown.org/works/28475100

7. Better This Time by vroomvroommic - https://archiveofourown.org/works/33153472

8. books and books of poetry by mintycarrots - https://archiveofourown.org/works/31629356/chapters/78272594

9. from your lips (words are so much sweeter) by risquetendencies - https://archiveofourown.org/works/29626461

10. Getting baited into reading a trash novel and regretting it (for a bit) by impasta -https://archiveofourown.org/works/40830114/chapters/102309999

11. Growth Mindset by mintycarrots - https://archiveofourown.org/works/27552136/chapters/67388383

12. here, there, everywhere by onceandforall - https://archiveofourown.org/works/31237592

13. if music be the food of love by OverTheMoonShine - https://archiveofourown.org/works/32781904

14. i’m so lost in you (and all that you do) by courtshipofwords - https://archiveofourown.org/works/31754950/chapters/78601978

15. karikari by fromthemist - https://archiveofourown.org/works/29470536

16. keep time on me by yamabato - https://archiveofourown.org/works/31745842

17. kiss me like you cook your karaage - slowly, then all at once by floatyourself - https://archiveofourown.org/works/27164209

18. LANTERNS by combustible - https://archiveofourown.org/series/2104776

19. Let’s Call it Culture Shock by Taryo88 - https://archiveofourown.org/works/30615773

20. like the dawn by eggsan - https://archiveofourown.org/works/30484143/chapters/75173244

21. love in the time of office hours by lunarwaves - https://archiveofourown.org/works/33099049

22. love, the universe, and other unknown variables by venusintwelfth - https://archiveofourown.org/works/28176888 (this is my fav fic btw)

23. make me thaw by honeyedrop - https://archiveofourown.org/series/1903228

24. miya osamu’s guide to bad neighbors, serial breakups, and domesticity by rosegoldwriting - https://archiveofourown.org/works/24768052

25. never the same love twice by lettersinpetals - https://archiveofourown.org/works/28770075/chapters/70548549

26. new love in old places by stormhund - https://archiveofourown.org/works/24838069/chapters/60082078

27. Of Crumbs and Eyelash Wishes by veriwyn - https://archiveofourown.org/works/30532185

28. Of Onigiri and Owls by thepeskyunicorn - https://archiveofourown.org/works/41112162/chapters/103051197

29. One More Weekend by Primaveril - https://archiveofourown.org/works/42857955/chapters/107668482

30. Onigiri for Two by Un1stellar - https://archiveofourown.org/works/31415531

31. Reality or Royalty? by twindualities - https://archiveofourown.org/works/26477743

32. Seeing You by prosesareread - https://archiveofourown.org/works/29190336/chapters/71668746

33. Sibling Antics by aris_imperfect_mind - https://archiveofourown.org/works/31227473

34. sleeping with the enemy by billionairevolleyboysclub - https://archiveofourown.org/works/30134715

35. slow magic by redberrysoda, yamabato - https://archiveofourown.org/works/35689273

36. Slowly, and then all at once by SundaeMunt - https://archiveofourown.org/works/32182780/chapters/79744435

37. so I keep feeling close (to what’s beyond compare) by vonroozh - https://archiveofourown.org/works/30637109

38. stay with me, go places by sparksandsalt - https://archiveofourown.org/works/24961099/chapters/60422311

39. strangers by redberrysoda - https://archiveofourown.org/works/31504481

40. take what we love inside by yamabato - https://archiveofourown.org/works/28329681

41. the dog days are over by grandecoffee - https://archiveofourown.org/works/33633148

42. The laundry by XunYioo2 - https://archiveofourown.org/works/43674576

43. The Spiderman Meme by Pixelated_Wing - https://archiveofourown.org/works/30435960

44. the sun rises like this heart up my throat by redberrysoda - https://archiveofourown.org/works/30063543

45. The taste of home by hobisleaves - https://archiveofourown.org/works/43145172

46. thursdays full of maybes and warm smiles by goldenkiwis - https://archiveofourown.org/works/40972737

47. wait by sanguinedawns - https://archiveofourown.org/works/29421981

48. warm refuge by isntitluvly - https://archiveofourown.org/works/33408157

49. warmth within winter by duskyhaze - https://archiveofourown.org/works/33507595

50. welcome in by risquetendencies - https://archiveofourown.org/works/28623666

[theworldinclines]

Title: to have a friend

Pairing: Thua & Khan

Summary: This is what it means to be best friends.

Read on Ao3

[hussyknee]

i'm so confused rn, can you explain the goncharov thing?? i get off tumblr for five minutes

(Edits closed as of 28 Nov.)

Lmaoooo

Nah I getchu. So this post has been circulating for like two years:

Link to post.

But yesterday, it had inspired someone to do this:

Link to post.

Next thing I knew there were fake Letterboxed reviews.

Goncharov moodboards. Really good ones.

Link to post.

Meta analysis. So many fake meta essays. Disturbingly good ones. And of course the memes. (Edit: HAVE I SAID THIS SHIT IS DISTURBING)

As you can see, the myth just started to grow, characters and ships and tropes being added one after the other, almost bizzarely without contradiction, until there was enough of shape to the whole thing for people to start posting fanfic about it on AO3. "No beta we die like ice-pick Joe" is already a tag.

Link to post.

It was hilarious in the beginning, but the way it's developed within less than a day, kind of like it's being willed into existence, is freaking me out a bit. We're toying with powers beyond our comprehension. 😂😂😂

Link to post.

Of course, there could be an ulterior motive as well.

Link to post (tags mine).

Edit: guys, please tag these posts "unreality" so people with disassociation issues can filter them out (not this one, this is an explainer). <3

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

Edit 2: Aparently the boots in the original post are actually referring to a movie called Gomorrah that came out in 2008, directed by Mateo Garrone, based on the Scampia Feud. And other people had also been making posts about the fake movie for a while before the poster took off.

found by @thepotch

Edit 3: Explainer: why did those boots have this movie on them anyway?

Edit 4: Alt text added to all images courtesy of @valentineish ❤️

Edit 5: Turns out tumblr has done this kind of thing before. Nine years in this hell place and I had to have "Squiddles" and penis smp explained in the replies.

Edit 6: This post collects the Lore so far.

Edit 7: Lynda Carter (real one)/ earns more/ Tumblr cred.

Edit 8: Holy shit y'all we have the theme music. With sheet music. And it's on Spotify!

Edit 9: THERE IS A TRAILER WITH THE THEME MUSIC

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

I made this post 18 hours after the movie poster went up. Closed edits 27 hours after first posting. So all of the above happened within 45 hours of the movie poster going up.

Edit 10: Google document live-compiling all the lore so far (Day 3)

Edit 11: Masterpost of Goncharov soundtracks (Day 3)

Edit 12: Entertainment news articles covering the Gonch-posting (real) (Contd from yday)

Edit 13: The music from the masterpost all compiled into a 31-minute original score with video edits on YouTube (edit: unfortunately taken down)

Edit 14: Staff's Goncharov art showcase for Tumblr Tuesday

As of closing on Day 3 there are 371 works in the AO3 tag.

-----

Updating with Day 3 shenanigans I missed yesterday:

Edit 15: Goncharov TV Tropes page

Edit 16: Ethics of Gonchposting

Important PSA 1 (how to reduce harm to Tumblr's neurodivergents)

Important PSA 2 (reality affirmation, anti-bullying)

Important PSA 3 (why you should stop trying to vandalise legit information sites)

Edit 17: Character lore from beezlebub whose poster they originated from

Edit 18: What we know about/ Director Matteo JWHJ0715 (#unreality)

Edit 19: Link to post with screenshotted and described NYT article (scroll down) and this golden exerpt from BuzzFeed: 💀

(alt text included)

End of Day 4 there are now 485 works in the Goncharov tag on AO3

----

Didn't get to update this on Day 5, so these are the Day 5 doings:

More trailers!

Trailer 1 (My favourite)

Trailer 2

Trailer 3

Trailer 4

I also just found out about the Goncharov Game Jam.

It appears this opened a day after after the meme took off.

Goncharov was first entered into Wikipedia between Day 4 and 5 (attempts to vandalise it with fake info don't count, incidentally – please knock that shit off) under List of Internet Phenomena. This was then expanded into its own Wikipedia page at the end of Day 5 because, according to the talk history: "the topic now meets the notability threshold for its own artice due to significant coverage in The New York Times and other sources cited." We're on Wikipedia, people!

And then we made The Guardian half a day later. So while the meme is definitely dying down to embers by now, it still stays winning.

YouTube channels with episodes on the meme:

InformOverlord (4:30)

Lessons in Meme Culture (2:43)

End of Day of 5 there were 511 works on AO3, and End of Day 6 (today) there are 556.

--

🚨BREAKING 🚨 from Martin Scorsese's daughter's TikTok (real actual)

tw: unreality:

We did it you guys!

Clarification: Francesca Scorcese asked her Dad about the meme and Martin played along. Please reblog this PSA to help Tumblr people with psychosis. Thanks.

Final edit: Day 8. Media reactions to Scorcese's TikTok (everyone from Forbes to Vulture). That one Tumblr user who said they'd do a screenplay if their post got notes has promised to shoot a single scene, but please don't be dicks just because you reblogged it; leave them alone until they get around to it themselves. As of end of Day 8 there are 609 works in the AO3 tag. I love all you lunatics. Peace! ❤️

[flamingpudding]

Masterpost

I think I did enough writing on tumblr that this should be okay to do :D

Ghost Kid in Ghotam

AO3 Link: Available here, so far [8/?] Parts updated

Warning for AO3: Parts / Chapters might have additional content or slightly changed content after editing. Since tumblr Posts are the Raw Versions.

1. The Beginning

2. Literal Angle Biter

3. Feral brother of mine

4. How to catch a baby brother

5. Thrill and Chirp brother

6. A dead but now revived Son

7. Interlude: A different perspective

8. Ghost Cult Guides and Light Silhouettes

9. Pit Demons aren't pets, now stop biting!

10. No work at the dinner table

11. One Step Closer

12. A Mother's Care

13. Interlude: A Brothers Protection

14. The secrets we keep for others

15. Green and Red Emotions, similar but not

16. ...

The Ghost King is my Uncle Drabbles

Original One Shot

Shovel Talks - Rowdy Cousin

It started with a Ouija Board

Ouija Board Prompt Idea

Ghost Hunting Vigilantes Part 1 Part 2

Summoning Gone Wrong

Modern (Fenton) Ghost Hunting Part 1

Ghost Twins: Lost in Gotham

Work in Progress...

Original Prompt

Sneak Peak

Drake's family secret

Part #1 #2

Cassiopeia and Orion

Part #1 #2 #3

Sort of completed Posts:

>>Posted Prompt Ideas / One Shot List

>>DPxDC Family Week 2023 Post List

-> AO3 Link: DPxDC Family Week Contributions

>>Fictober23 Written Prompts List

[thegaysinmyhead]

Dead on Main Masterpost for 'Obsession'

This is the yandere fic Lol.

Edit: A kind soul has offered to beta-read!! 🫶🫶🫶

I will be posting parts on Tumblr as I write them! They will be unedited and usually on reread (maybe) once! I'll probably be posting them 3 at a time every week or so. Maybe more, maybe less, depending on my mood. I do have Uni classes so please be patient!!!

'Obsession' does and will contain dark themes for graphic depictions of violence, unhealthy attachments, (maybe) emotional manipulation, perverted and uncomfortable imagery, and overall what you'd expect from a yandere-ish fic. They will both care for each other! Their ghost cores will just...be pushing them to extremes? It'll all be explained Lol

BUT do not read if you feel uncomfortable with any of the topics listed below, warning some of these are uncomfortable asf lol (will be updated as time goes on)

Unhealthy Attachments

Graphic Depictions of Violence

Uncomfortable Imagery (ex. sniffing dirty clothes)

Depictions of Gore

Depictions of Sex & Violent Sex

Depictions of Control or (Maybe) Unbalanced Relationships

Anything That Could be Related to the Yandere, Deredere, or Goudere Types (However, not all will be used. I'm kinda gonna mix them up?)

[More to be added, I will watch comments for anything readers believe should be put on this list. Not everything on this list right now is currently present in the story, I am adding things before I post them or things I know I will be writing]

Prologue

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

Spotify Links -

[Jason Todd]

[Danny Fenton]

I will be posting this fic to AO3 completely edited and (hopefully) beta-read. The AO3 link below will work when the fic is pretty much halfway through(ish) on Tumblr

AO3 Link

Please limit interactions with this post!

[springhrtrap]

lillard!william x reader (1/?)

WARNINGS (pet names, murder, implied kidnapping, noncon, blood, knifeplay, restraints, william being creepy. the good stuff)

edit: chapter 2 is up at my ao3! (link is pinned on my profile)

You inhaled sharply as the cool steel of the blade made contact with your skin, your eyes closed tightly as you jerked your head to the side, bracing for what would come next. A cut, a slash, anything he could do to harm you. You were shaking, holding your breath to remain as still as possible. William tutted, slowly dragging the blade to your chin. He was applying slight pressure, not enough to draw blood, but enough for you to take it as a threat. A whimper escaped your lips. You silently cursed yourself.

"Don't be afraid, darling." William said softly, stepping closer to you. With his knife, he guided your head to face him, taking in the beautiful sight of you. Your cheeks and lips were flushed a deep red, the tears pricking the corners of your eyes glistened in the dim light as your face twitched in fear. You refused to open your eyes, clenching them shut so hard to the point of a headache. Taking in a deep, albeit shaky breath through your nose, you could find your voice for only a moment. 

"Please, don't." You pleaded, barely audible. Your throat cracked from the dryness and you winced in pain, swallowing hard. You weren't even sure if he heard you, until you felt the blade press harder against your skin. Another whimper escaped, this time with a sob that made you shake.

"What makes you think you have any power right now? Any right to tell me what I can and can't do?" William hissed through gritted teeth, grabbing a fistful of your hair, promptly yanking your head to the side, facing away from him. He closed the gap between the two of you, tightening the grip on your hair. The knife dug dangerously into your skin, only a moment before drawing blood. After a moment, he let out a huff of air, steadying himself, trying to regain his composure. William removed the knife as he inhaled deeply, then exhaled a stream of cool air through pursed lips. You regained the strength to open your eyes, if not only for a brief moment. 

You could do nothing but watch in horror as William's eyes glanced up and down your body. He hummed softly before his eyes met yours. With a sharp exhale through his nose, similar to a laugh, he smiled. Almost instantly, you closed your eyes as tight as possible and grimaced, squirming beneath his grip with a shudder. The pit in your stomach grew larger, your heart pounding even faster. Your entire body felt hot with shame, anxiety pooling in your chest, making it even more difficult to breathe. Your hands behind your back wriggled against the restraints desperately, and, to no avail, didn't budge. To that, he let out a real huff of laughter.

"My, my." William let out a sigh before moving even closer to you, hunching over to get up close to your ear. "What am I going to do with you, bunny?" He whispered as he angled his head, his scratched voice dropping dangerously low. He let out a shuddering breath, almost animalistic. William inched closer to your head, his hand now caressing your hair, loosening the previous firm grip he had. The pain in your scalp began to dull, although you could swear you could still feel the imprint of his fingernails digging into your skin. His hot breath bounced off your skin, warming you for only a moment. It wasn't long before his calloused fingers slowly made their way toward your neck, gently caressing your soft skin. "You look so beautiful for me."

'For me', you thought. A sob escaped you, hot tears streaming down your cheeks. The thought of him owning you, you being his new little play-thing made you sick. His hand moved to cup your jaw, gently placing his thumb on your cheek, delicately wiping away a tear. "So beautiful." He hummed to himself. 

William remained there for a moment, lost in thought. It truly was a beautiful sight to him. He reveled in the thought of your powerlessness, of the desperation you must feel, of how you'd do anything to stay alive. His life was in your hands, and that was the beauty of it all. He could take away everything in an instant. Oh, how he would love to kill you, though. Push his knife into your chest, look down at you with a sickening grin. He would force it deeper inside you, inch by inch, watching in delight as fresh blood would pool on the ground, as you would gasp and thrash violently underneath him, fighting desperately to stay alive. You would scream for help, throat bleeding from the harsh yelps. He would twist the knife, pushing it all the way to the hilt before removing it completely. Blood would seep from the fatal wound, soaking your clothes. The last thing you’d see would be William Afton, bloodied knife in hand with a wicked grin. Life would leave your eyes. The corners of his mouth twisted into a smile at the thought, arousal pooling in his stomach. But what fun would that be now? No, he liked to play with his food. Let them think they have a chance. Push them to the edge, see how desperate they can get. Now that was fun. 

William shook his head slightly, forcing himself to the present. He looked down at the knife in his hand, and with a grin, pressed the knife against the skin above your collarbone. "You'll be a good girl, won't you?" It wasn't a question as much as it was a command. You inhaled sharply again, not daring to move an inch. You didn't know what to do, what to say. You simply nodded with a whimper, hoping that it would make him ease up on you, somehow. He was grinning at the state of you. Scared, desperate, begging. He wondered if you'd given up, yet. 

Without warning, he slid the knife against your collarbone, the blade gliding effortlessly, breaking the surface layer of skin, almost instantly drenching the steel with a layer of blood. "Oh my god-" Your voice shook, eyes widening as you watched your own blood seep from the cut. Barely being able to process what had happened, you began to jerk around, desperately trying to break free from your restraints. "Fucking- HELP!" You yelled, whimpering between shuddering breaths, fighting desperately against your restraints. Your breathing was erratic, with every huff of air your voice broke with whimpers and sobs, your heart racing, head pounding You couldn't help but watch, struck in place with fear as your own blood dripped slowly down your chest, soaking your clothes. It hurt, your skin stinging and pulsing from the wound. You’ve never seen yourself bleed this much before. 

-

sorry for the abrupt ending, if you guys would like to see more let me know!! im very shy when it comes to uploading my writing 😭 this is something i just wrote on a whim... he is in my head i cant get him out 💔

[cno-inbminor]

repertum

plot: no matter how much you want alhaitham, you don’t think you can ever have him. he may or may not try to prove otherwise // ft. lumine and nahida 

warnings: afab!reader, 3.4 spoilers, smut but reader and alhaitham get blue balled, angst, fluff and comfort later. probably some incorrect game lore and timing/mechanics.

a/n: :)))))

EDIT: Part 2 (FINAL) | AO3 Link

-

“I don’t–” You rush out before your breath hitches. “-- think this is a good idea, ah–”

Alhaitham keeps you pinned to the wall of your apartment, pelvis undulating against yours in an erratic beat. He drinks in every gasp that leaves your pretty little mouth, the same lips that have haunted his passing thoughts for the past month. His fingers dig into your waist and he leaves subcutaneous blooming sore spots on your shoulder and collarbone, relishing in your hisses of pain and pleasure, if the grip you have around his neck is any indicator.

Your words send a spike of adrenaline – he vehemently denies the possibility it may be fear instead – through his veins, to do anything to keep you right where he wants you, and he gives into the primal urge to dig his teeth into the very shoulder he’s been nibbling and sucking onto for the last ten minutes. The resulting yelp from you keeps him sated, and he places a soft kiss where he’d bitten you; a stark contrast.

Alhaitham lifts his head to look into your eyes, pupils swallowing over your irises and your eyelids half-open. He takes pride in having been able to push you towards such a state of inhibitions. “And what would make you think such a thing?” His lips ask against yours, tone dark with an alarming amount of clarity that you find absolutely unfair and unjust.

Despite his protests, there are several reasons why this isn’t a good idea. To be a scholar and also involved with the Akademiya’s former scribe? You’re practically begging to be academically slaughtered by the masses, as everyone knows Alhaitham has the ears of the General Mahamatra and, at times, Lord Kusanali herself. It goes both ways – having always been regarded as the level-headed, purely rational individual, most would agree that his current actions are the complete opposite. Those traits themselves are a recipe for disaster – sure, you could be witty and hold your own, but it was clear to you that you could not give him what he needs, he neither for you.

The sexual tension between you two is palpable. You briefly remember the day you first exchanged words with the man right before his new promotion. Both of you had reached for the same textbook one early, early morning, and being that it was the only copy in the entire library, you were determined to get your hands on it.

“I believe my hand was here first,” you said in a matter-of-fact tone. Part of you was screaming at yourself for even thinking about going against Alhaitham in any way, but this research paper is due next week and you will not let anyone hinder your progress. “I can give it to you when I’m done with it.”

Annoyance with a hint of amusement had crossed his features as he crossed his arms in front of his chest, the action drawing your gaze. The man had always been a great distance from you, but now seeing him up close, you can understand why some of the other scholars made it a point to mention just how attractive this man was. The brains, brawn, and looks all in a single individual? The archons were quite unfair, if you had anything to say about it.

“I believe the scholars understand they should not hinder any work of mine. It would be best for me to take it, and I will return it once I no longer need it.”

You wanted to wipe the smugness of his face. With a kiss or with a book thrown at him, you don’t care to differentiate – but the confidence he exuded was starting to irritate you, and you ignore the beginnings of an unwanted heat swirling in your core. “Well if the Scribe would so kindly lend it to me, I only need it for the next 36 hours and it will be all yours afterward. Surely your work can wait for that long?”

He took a step towards you to level with your impertinent gaze. Part of you thought you had had the higher ground, granted you were standing on a step ladder so you could reach the book, but you then saw that even with the extra centimeters, you were simply at about the same height as the man. Again, unfair.

“What is your name?” He interrogated.

“What is it to you?” You snapped back. If he really wanted to, he could demand to see your student identification credentials. But part of him wanted to hold back, to watch you bend to his will.

“I may consider granting you your wish if I can learn of your identity.”

The look of surprise on your face had been the beginning of his downfall. Normally the other scholars would have cowered beneath his presence by now. Yet the little spurts of fight from you had elicited some excitement from within, a feeling he hadn’t felt in quite a bit of time. Such emotions were for the weak for they clouded one’s judgment and logic.

“And if I don’t?”

“Then I will take this and, once again, will return it when I am done with it.”

He outstretched his hand to lay his claim on the book’s spine, fingers pressing gently against yours that were still adamant in your pursuit. Both of you made it a point to ignore how the touch made goosebumps form on your arm, thankfully hidden underneath your clothes. The Akademiya’s Scribe knowing you by name never boded well, but it was 2AM and you were perhaps too desperate.

In a state of unfounded confidence and irrationality, your fingers moved to intertwine with his. Watching his jawline slack the slightest bit fueled you, and you dragged your hands off the shelf and pressed them against his chest. With it, you leaned into the bounds of his personal space, using everything you had left in you to keep his eyes on you. Perhaps his pupils had become dilated, you can’t remember at this point, but it was enough distraction for you to use your other hand to snatch the book from its confines between other hardcovers. Once acquired, you disentangled from his grasp and took hurried steps off the step-ladder, clutching the book to your chest. You backpedaled some decimeters away to create some much needed distance. Alhaitham seemed stunned into silence. Or perhaps he was plotting your murder.

“(Y/N).”

And before you disappeared around the corner, he called out to warn, “I will see you in 36 hours.”

For many weeks afterwards, he made it a point to alert you of his presence whenever you were in the Akademiya’s building. If you were furiously annotating notes from multiple annals spread across your table, he would saunter by and subtly brush his cape against your clothes. If you were simply reading for pleasure, a knee pulled up into your chest because fuck Akademiya propriety, he would make sure to sit at the table across yours and in a chair on the side facing you head on. Did he let himself stare at you too much, finding some enjoyment in watching your facial expressions as you read? Perhaps. If it was late at night and you looked incredibly stressed, he would invite himself to look over your shoulder and observe your information, only to point out some details and offer tidbits of advice. Sometimes you found yourself in deep, research-heavy conversations and got a taste of Alhaitham’s inner workings, which only made you want more.

Tonight after a big project, he invited you to a drink at Lambad’s Tavern, though it was under the guise of needing some help bringing food back for his roommate afterwards, and you were going there anyway. Tucked in the corner, you, aided by alcohol, had let your inhibitions fall. You would need to be passed out to not feel the heat and weight of his gaze on you for the entire night, and you found yourself reveling in it. Yet it didn’t make sense – why would he find an interest in you, out of all the people within Sumeru? Alhaitham could have his pick of anyone, yet he decided to put his eggs in a basket with your name and face on it.

The thoughts stewed inside, even as he made a nonchalant offer to walk you to your apartment. “It is late, and you have no means to defend yourself.” That had been the end of it as he walked towards the path leading to the outskirts of the city, and you had no choice but to follow. At your doorstep, underneath a waning gibbous and cloudy skies, Alhaitham’s body language communicated his hesitancy in leaving you alone for the night, and with a swallow, you had invited him in for a cup of coffee.

He gave a nod. The door clicked shut. And as soon as your eyes with hints of lust met his, he made his move – surging forward to pull you into a kiss, and then spinning to press you against the wall with his thighs slotted between yours. The faint, yet unbridled moan for just mere kisses made his chest swell, and he swiped his tongue against your bottom lip.

“It’s just not – Haitham – a good idea,” you pant, thoughts back in the present moment.

“I disagree,” he retaliates, pulling back to remove your shirt. The rate of his disappearing self-control only increases when he does everything to commit this moment to memory. You’re so beautiful, he laments, torn between wanting to maintain the sanctity of your figure and forcing you to succumb and accept his attempts to claim you. He wants you to feel his kisses and bites for days, so you would never forget and inevitably crave his touch.

You don’t want to argue with him now, not when you finally have him in your hands. Your lips desperately meet his again as you unclip your bra and shrug it off. He follows suit and undoes his cape so he can pull his sleeveless shirt over his head, groaning when he pulls you close and his bare skin takes in the heat emanating from yours. Feeling your hardened nipples slide against his pectorals should not be so alluring, yet he finds himself wishing you two could stay in bed for eternity, naked and entwined and drunk on each others’ touch.

Fingers dig into his silver-gray locks and tugs, to which he answers with a punishing nip on your neck. “Bedroom,” you plead so prettily and he can only let you draw back to lead the way. He wastes little time in pressing forward until the back of your legs hit the bed frame, causing you to fall back. From mere kisses and heavy petting, the look on your face is already so sinful, and Alhaitham can’t help but imagine how you’d look once his cock was inside you.

“You siren and minx,” he sighs in faux displeasure, planting gentle pecks down your chest and abdomen until he hovers over the band of your pants. He tugs them and your underwear down with the aid of your lifted hips – and doesn’t miss the glossy thread of your slick from your vulva to the damp cotton. When it eventually breaks, he feels twinges of regret for not being able to catch it on his tongue and have a taste of you, like a man dying of thirst in the desert.

His hands have a firm grip underneath your thighs and pushes them towards your chest. Alhaitham curses when he has the full view of your pussy, puffy and wet and demanding any attention. “Haitham, please,” and you sound like you’re on the verge of tears.

“Hmm?” His voice teases as his fingers spread and his thumbs are so, so close to where you want them to be. Your pitiful cry is answered with– “Use your words. You surely have never had a problem with that.”

You beat a fist against his chest in retaliation, though there is little to no force behind it. The pathetic attempt at communicating your embarrassment is not lost on you.

Yet despite the heated blood in your veins, the near desperation to climb this high, your heart stills at the smirk sitting devilishly on his lips. You suddenly become hyperaware of every part of your body that he is seeing and touching, and the rational part of your brain returns once more to remind you, again, that this is not going to end well.

In the years that Alhaitham has roamed and trudged through the hierarchy and floors of the Akademiya, everybody knows he is not one for intimate relationships, whether it be deeper friendships or romantic partnerships. So for him to spend his precious free time with an ordinary scholar such as you, no legacy or prestige to your name – it made no sense. You are more than ready to understand that if this night were to run its due course, the end result would be the same if it were to never happen.

The dread that settles into Alhaitham’s body is murky and viscous as he watches sobering clarity fill your system, most noticeably in your eyes. Irises expanding, pupils shrinking, the life and spark from earlier swept away, don’t make much sense to him as you gently remove yourself from his grasp. “Y/N?” He inquires with some of the most uncertainty he’s felt in the last ten or so years. Adrenaline dissolves into veiled panic as he watches you slip on a new pair of underwear and an oversized sleep shirt.

“I’m sorry, I’m not feeling too well,” you supply in a meek voice, looking around and eventually finding his shirt from earlier. The man appears as dumbfounded as he can behind such a blank and austere face such as his, pulling the material back over his head and looping his arms through in a trance. He doesn’t remember following after you but finds himself back in your living room where his cloak had been haphazardly thrown onto the ground. With the way you slide it over his shoulders and make no mistake in securing it properly, he feels as if ice cold water has been dumped over his head.

And then you’re both at the front door and all he knows in this precise moment is that he really, really doesn’t want to leave.

“Thank you again for the drink,” you say, voice cracking near the end and gaze avoiding his at all costs. “You didn’t have to.”

Alhaitham chooses to say nothing, and despite how much the inner turmoil is wrecking your nervous system, you know this is for the best.

Right?

“Did I do anything wrong?”

Yes. No. Of course. Not at all. Maybe.

“No, I just don’t feel well. Maybe the alcohol isn’t agreeing with me.”

At the same time you twist the doorknob and pull, you stand on your tiptoes to plant a shaky kiss against his cheek.

“Goodnight, Alhaitham.”

It’s clear that he’s being banished now, door wide and a clear signal for him to leave. While he may want to slam the door back closed and demand all the answers he needs to the sudden change in your behavior, he simply nods and steps over the threshold, pausing when he fully steps into the hallway. The man doesn’t have the gall to face you straight on, but he lets you take one last look at his side profile, eyes glancing briefly over his shoulder.

“Have a better lie next time.”

This is for the best, you repeat to yourself minutes later when you’re curled underneath your blankets.Your breath shudders as the tears begin to stain your pillowcase, and before you slip into a fitful slumber, you worry about what dreams will greet you.

-

Alhaitham doesn’t see you for a whole week.

For seven agonizing days, 108 frustration-ridden hours, you are nowhere to be found or seen, as if you decided to hole up in your apartment and never leave your own self-made prison. It’s embarrassing, to a certain degree, just how much he’s been around the library, constantly on the lookout for your figure. Kaveh caught him reading the same page of a history book for at least ten minutes on one of those days, but chose to keep his mouth shut for once and snarky remarks to himself.

On day 8, Alhaitham wonders if he’s begun to hallucinate when he sees you in plain view at the market stand, attempting to barter with the owner to get a better deal on some vegetables. But it’s your voice he hears, your hands he sees, your hair that makes his fingers twitch in a thinly-veiled hidden desire to run them through. He’s left standing in the middle of the street looking like an idiot, yet others perceive his heavy gaze upon your figure to assume that you’re about to get into some trouble and the General Mahamatra was calling in a favor of some sorts.

On day 11, he catches you running up the pathway that leads to the Sanctuary of Surasthana, which is bewildering and confusing in its entirety. What business do you have being anywhere near the residence of Lord Kusanali? Even he as the former Scribe, favored and the most unwilling Acting Grand Sage, and one of the saviors of the Dendro Archon, has not been there since the whole hubbub died down, and it’s been months.

On day 14, you run into the traveler who seems to be making her rounds of saying goodbye to various citizens. Alhaitham had spoken a number of times about her and her travels and you knew her next destination was Fontaine. Not far from home, but far enough away to rid yourself of all these ugly, human emotions and get over this huge crush on the aforementioned man. With unfounded confidence, you call for her attention with shaky breaths.

“Can I help you?” She questions softly, not missing the clear distress in your body.

“My name is Y/N and, um, I’m a scholar at the Akademiya. Though I guess my attire gave that away,” you laugh nervously, gesturing to said clothing. “I’m, uh, an acquaintance, I guess, of Haitham’s? Anyways, that’s not really important, but you’re going to Fontaine, right?”

Lumine nods and stays silent.

Well, here goes nothing. “This might sound really weird but…can I come with you?”

Perfect, golden eyebrows rise in surprise – it’s not everyday a mere stranger so brazenly asks to travel with her, especially to another nation.

“I have some research that is taking me there, but I’d prefer not to travel alone. I was going to leave soon, but just now when I heard you telling people goodbye, I thought I’d try to ask? I’ll pay for your help, and I can even help you find and cook food! Hopefully you don’t find a Vision-less person like me a burden but I promise I won’t get in the way.”

Lumine looks you up and down once more while her thoughts process. You look harmless and it wouldn’t be a bad idea to have another set of hands along the way. Fontaine really wasn’t that far away once they crossed the border. It was becoming clearer to her that you truly did need to get to Fontaine, and not just for research. Perhaps –

“Could it be that you’re running from something?” She asks with curiosity.

“...wow, nothing really gets past you. It’s more like…someone,” you confess, sheepish and embarrassed.

“Are you in danger?”

“Not at all, no!” With hands waving in front of you, you speak with clear denial. “I’m trying to figure some things out and, well, I’d rather do it when I’m not constantly at risk of bumping into him.”

“Clearly I don’t know the details of your situation but…wouldn’t it be better to just be honest with him?”

You take a glance in the direction of the Akademiya and allow a bittersweet smile to grace your lips. “I think my honesty would simply be a burden for him.”

“And you know that because…?”

“Because he is that kind of man. There is no need for him to have a place for me in his heart. But I’m really bringing the mood down – could you please consider my offer? I forgot to mention I can be quite handy with a dagger if need be.”

Lumine and Paimon exchange a look, the fairy shrugging. “We leave tomorrow at first light,” the traveler speaks up. “Is that enough time for you to gather everything you need? If not, as long as we leave by midday, we don’t mind waiting.”

Perfect.

“It’s more than enough time. I pack light anyways.”

“We’ll meet in front of the Sanctuary then. Paimon and I need to meet with Lord Kusanali before we depart.”

You barely get any sleep that night, a ball of nerves and excitement. Your neighbor has been kind enough to hold your spare key to check in on your apartment every once in a while, waving you off when you begin to discuss forms of repayment for their generosity. The last time you ventured out of the main city and its surrounding areas was perhaps a few years ago to get a look at the famed Palace of Alcazarzaray. Alhaitham had briefly spoken of Kaveh a few times, though his tone was an odd amalgamation of genuine respect and scathing admonishment. In fact, you met the architect once when he came to the Akademiya to ask (more like loudly demand) for a copy of their house key. That was one of your first deep dives into how much of a teasing asshole Alhaitham could be, and you had already been spending most of your hours with him.

Fontaine has only ever been presented to you in sketches and paintings, so for a chance to see it in person…you can’t wait.

When your alarm goes off, you practically jump out of bed, throwing on your travel attire that you had set out the night before. With your research materials in a bag and travel essentials in another, you give one last look at your apartment. Who knows when you’ll be back?

[nerdpoe]

The Curse of the Cat (With the Exemption of Selina Kyle) Part 2

Ao3, I lost part 1 but that's fine cuz it's in the Ao3 link I didn't edit this. This is unedited and it is late. Have warmup crack chappie.

She had done her research, hunted down all occult practitioners she could find, and after half a year of slaving away and ignoring all other heists-she’d found it.

The cause of half the population gaining cat ears and tails.

The Infinite Realms, Pandora’s Box.

Granted, it was just a guess, but out of the seventy-nine Occultists she’d cornered and interrogated, the phrase “Pandora’s Box” had left the lips of sixty-two of them.

Was she grasping for straws? Perhaps. But no one had any better ideas, and Selina needed to steal her own cat ears and tail! She was Catwoman! She needed them!

Further research into Pandora’s Box had led her to Pandora, which had led her to the concept of Ghosts, which had branched into Paranormal Researchers, which brought her straight to the Drs Fenton, then the Ghost Zone, then she’d brought that back to the Occultists for them to translate it to the Infinite Realms.

Most of them had gone for drinks after reading that the Fenton’s had made a machine that punched a hole through reality and into the Infinite Realms. Others had sat down and started crying.

Something about powerful, almost-gods residing in that dimension. Whatever. That was for Batman or something, and was none of Selina’s business.

She was currently preoccupied with stealing the strange hovercraft and going into the Infinite Realms, going directly against what every single Occultist had tried to tell her not to do.

But she was Catwoman. She would correct this.

Plus, there were recent posts circulating that Catwoman was appropriating Feline culture, or that she was just cringe. That she was a version of Transracial, like Rachel Dolezal.

Those were unforgivable.

She knew for a fact that her not getting those feline appendages was a mistake. An oversight.

A sin.

And she was going to correct it.

~~~~~~

Bernard woke up feeling…odd.

Tim’s tail was wrapped around his waist, and one hand was lazily running down his ear.

“Hey babe, wake up; a new animal appendage epidemic just dropped.”

Bernard opened his eyes and lifted himself up, bewildered.

Tim smiled down at him.

“Borzoi for you, it seems.”

Bernard yanked the blankets to the side and stared in dismay at the lanky, furry tail that moved in time with his own movements.

“What’s wrong babe?” Tim asked, concerned.

“I’m gonna have to wear one of those new tail nets now.” They were so annoying looking! He didn’t want to!

But dog hair in food!

Tim, the jerk, laughed at him.

~~~~~~

Commissioner Gordon glared at everyone as he walked into work, new ears flat and his new tail straight and still.

He thought he’d dodged this fuckery.

He had not.

German Shepherd. He, a Police Commissioner, was a German Shepherd subtype.

It felt like a jab at him. He didn’t like it.

He slammed his office door shut behind him and sat at his desk, only to hiss and readjust when he sat on his new tail.

That done, he sent out texts to see whether or not his friends and family were going to suffer with him.

He prayed he was not the only one.

~~~~~~

Barbara stared at her legs.

They moved and twitched restlessly alongside her tail.

‘ That’s…a whippet tail, no? ’ She thought in shock, still coming to terms that gaining animal ears and tail had just…given her her legs back.

That couldn’t be all there was to it?

Information. 

She needed information, and the massive computer she used to gather it was in the other room.

She looked at her wheelchair, waiting for her at the side of her bed.

She looked at her legs, which were still twitching with the urgent need to walk, to run, to get up and move-

She swung her legs off the bed, braced, and for the first time since the Joker took it from her, stood up.

She also immediately fell down, because her leg muscles had deteriorated and she’d need to relearn how to use them, but.

But.

For a half a second, she had definitely been standing on her own.

Walking….walking was no longer an impossibility. 

It was just something blocked by physical therapy.

But how did that fit, if she, overnight, had regained the ability to use them at all?

Barbara couldn’t help the laugh that escaped.

She pulled herself to her wheelchair and got in, using the quickest way she had to get to her computers.

First, an appointment with Leslie. Next, research to see if this had happened with any of the Cats.

~~~~~~

Dick woke up to pain in his ear.

He twitched it away from the source of the pain and rolled over-wait.

He…he moved his ear away from the…?

Oh joy of joys, had it finally happened?!

Dick launched himself upright, scaring Haley, who had been chewing on his new ear, and freed himself from the blankets, racing for his bathroom.

He got the the mirror, tail a blur of motion behind him as it wagged with his excitement-oh. Wait. That wasn’t a cat tail?

The wagging slowed down, and Dick took a moment to study it and his new ears.

That…hey! He knew that kind of tail! And those ears!

Haley had them too!

Pitbull! Pittie!

The tail started wagging again and Dick crouched down to play with an excited Haley.

“We have so much in common now! Yes we do! Yes we do!”

Haley was, predictably, ecstatic.

It wasn’t catlike balance or anything, but Dick would take it!

~~~~~~

Leslie Thompkins looked over the MRI results, frowning.

The damage, while there, was heavily diminished. If anything, all Barbara would need was a year or two of physical therapy. 

Then she pulled up Barbara’s research, looking over what had been notated in similar cases with those of Feline Affiliation.

In order for the new tail to grow, it appeared that if there was any damage to the spine, it would be circumvented for the new appendage to properly form. The one’s from the Feline study appeared to be doing well, and there hadn’t been any notes of a random relapse into previous damage.

Magic, apparently, made exactly as much sense as it wanted to at any given time.

Leslie’s own new ears, a Border Collie of all things, were still folded back in her own uncertainty. But she had the evidence she needed, right in front of her.

“...I think it’s safe to say that after a year or two of Physical Therapy, you should be walking and running with everyone else. A year after that, and you might be well enough to fling yourself from rooftops like the others.”

Barbara Gordon was sitting on the exam bed, pale and staring down at her feet, which were still twitching. The result of many, many nerves suddenly receiving signals from a connection that had been lost for so long, none of them knew what to do with the information being presented to them.

Hence, twitching.

Leslie estimated it would wear off in a week or two.

“So. I can tell people and not have to worry about it being…a lie?”

“You can tell whoever you want. Do you want to do that before or after we set up your physical therapy?”

~~~~~~

Selina staggered out of the glider thing, having barely escaped from an angry ghost. God. Thing.

There was no one in the basement, thankfully, and she managed to make her way to a mirror and sink that were off to the side, eager to see what feline traits she’d gained. She hadn’t had any time in the Infinite Realms; she’d been too busy running from threats.

But the mirror did not hold any salvation.

Selina stared at herself in the mirror, the fox ears on her head standing prominent and obvious, and not feline at all.

She turned, looking at her tail-that was a fox tail.

Very, very suddenly, Selina was just. 

Exhausted.

She was going home, and she was going to sleep for a week.

Then, she was going to steal something shiny.

~~~~~~

Clark took the plate of pancakes from Ma, cheerfully handing them over to Pa.

Jon stole one or two of them, his new tail only betraying him with a single wag.

Clark just chuckled, sitting down next to Lois, and felt something in himself settle.

He finally felt like he was Ma and Pa’s son in a way that wasn’t just adoption.

With the exception of Lois and her Lioness ears and tail, everyone in the kitchen at Great Pyrenees ears and tails.

~~~~~~

Seven planets over, Kon stared at his reflection in his guest room.

“Uh…Okay. I. I guess?”

He definitely hadn’t been a furry when he’d gone to bed. Yet, there he stood, with the ears and tail of a Pyrenees dog.

“...This is probably Lex’s fault, somehow.”

[penvisions]

of beskar and kyber {{masterlist}}

Fandom: The Mandalorian (Star Wars Universe)

Pairing: Din Djarin x Force Sensitive! Reader (the Mandalorian x Force Sensitive! Reader)

Summary: You’ve been on the run for as long as you can remember, from a lot of different people and a lot of different things. Everyone seems to see you as either a prize to show off or a captive to exploit. You had been successful in keeping a low profile and evading brief captures. That is until your mother contracted the Guild and the Mandalorian came to possess your tracking fob. 

Will he be the reason your freedom is no longer something attainable or will he be the one to help you achieve it in ways you never anticipated? 

Word Count: 161.5k - ongoing

Warnings: slow burn, enemies to lovers, plot heavy, very dialogue heavy in later chapters, reader has rich lore that will slowly be explored and brought to light, mentions of sa trauma (brief but integral to reader's character), canon typical violence

A/N: whew, okay. i have so much excitement for this fic. i have been editing a nearly 30k document for months now flushing out details and scenes and plotlines. this is a labor of love, i’m putting so much thought into each chapter before i post and making sure it’s all cohesive before posting! please feel free to share with me your thoughts on this one!!  ♡

ao3 link || main masterlist

chapter 1 || chapter 2

chapter 3 || chapter 4

chapter 5 || chapter 6

chapter 7 || chapter 8

chapter 9 || chapter 10

chapter 11 || chapter 12

chapter 13 || chapter 14

chapter 15 || chapter 16

chapter 17 || chapter 18

chapter 19 || chapter 20

[redflagshipwriter]

TAG MASTERLIST

These are the current WIPs, with links back to the AO3 version if it's posted there.

EDIT: now includes link to tumblr masterposts! You can navigate by clicking the desired tag at the bottom of this post or by going to the masterpost.

DCU:

Nest Swap

Baby Tim wakes up in Red Robin's apartment. He has a fantastic time about it. The bats are going to have to drag him out kicking and screaming.

masterpost tag is #red nest swap

DCU/Danny Phantom:

Halfa Cass (all badass)

Cass drags Captain Marvel over to check out a creepy empty town. They find the Fenton portal. They turn the power back on to the lab while they're investigating it. They really shouldn't have.

Tumblr tag is #red halfa cass

Mama Bat

(the one where Cass adopts Danny)

masterpost

Tumblr tag is #red mama bat

The next three are on a shared masterpost- 2 Jason/Danny stories, one Damian/Danny story. Masterpost is here.

Check yes to go on a date with a dead guy.

Some villain sacrificed Batman to an unknown entity in another dimension, and the guy sent him right back with a "no thank you" pinned to his outfit. This is the funniest thing the bat boys and girls have ever seen. The robins have been sacrificing each other to the Ghost Zone for funsies ever since. One day, Jason gets sent back with a note saying that actually, Danny is interested in him, and they've actually all been relentlessly proposing to him with this bride sacrifice ritual. Oops.

Tumblr tag is #red check yes

Hot Ghouls in your Area

Jason is a little too cocky going in to shut down a cult and he winds up being human trafficked to the Ghost Zone as the ghost king's paramour. Danny doesn't have time for this, he actually wants to graduate college. They need a divorce, stat.

Tumblr tag is #red hot ghouls

DCU:

Full title: Hi, it's Tim (just Tim)

Tim gets rescued by Kon- he didn't need it, by the way. But Kon immediately has a crush on him. A crush on plain boring civilian Tim Drake. Well. If Kon is interested in Tim, surely he'd be willing to date Robin.

Tumblr tag is #red just Tim

Masterpost is here.

DCU/Spiderman:

Full title: Reassembly

Inspired by Dark Matter, Peter Parker wakes up post-snap in what the audience might recognize as uhhh an unholy experiment using Lazarus water. He escapes the facility and tries to get his feet under him in a whole new world that doesn't have a place for him.

Tumblr tag is #red reassembly

Masterpost is here.

[thanotaphobia]

fly bird fly

i'm losing my mind. i'm going crazy. i'm going CRAZYYYYY. i wrote this in like 2 seconds literally oh my god

i will crosspost this to ao3 in a second lmao EDIT: CROSSPOSTED

⋆

They trip through the portal, and Phil’s stomach drops.

Not that it wasn’t already on the fucking floor. Through the floor, even. All the way in fucking hell, where apparently, that goddamn eye beast thinks they belong. Phil trips through the global portal and ends up by the cornucopia, Tubbo shrieking in his ear and a vague ringing in his ears.

His lungs hurt, clogged with thick dust from the crumbling marble ceilings. He can still see Chayanne in his mind’s eye, terrified but hiding it well. Tallulah, openly terrified. All the other eggs, dirty and frightened. He can still hear Foolish’s voice in his ears, shouting, screaming. He can see Fit’s face, and that thing. He can’t believe how tall it was, towering over them. And El Quackity…

“Phil, lasso me,” Tubbo demands.

He shoves his face into Phil’s space. Phil doesn’t jump– just stares at Tubbo and the dust in his hair, the blood running down his face, and then blinks.

“What?” he asks.

“Lasso me, lasso me,” Tubbo says, already pulling out his glider and shoving it onto the floor, struggling to open it. “We can fly, you can fly–”

Phil inhales, the very action sending bolts of pain through him, and his wings extend without so much as a thought. It’s strange, having muscle memory for something you haven’t done in months. His feathers ruffle, and every inch of him aches with the effort.

“I don’t know if I can, Toby,” he says, and Tubbo shakes his head.

“You take the paraglider, I have water, we can– you can fly us out, can’t you? Can’t you? We have the coordinates–”

“My wings are– I can’t–”

“Can you get us there, Phil?” Tubbo asks, shoving a lasso into his hands. The other end is tied around Tubbo’s waist, and Phil looks at him. He sees Tubbo face and the blood and his own sword crushing through Tubbo’s sternum with the thick crack of still-wet bone, and he exhales. Then he nods.

“I don’t know,” he says, “but we can try.”

“Go,” Tubbo says. “I have a water bucket.”

“Okay,” Phil says, and he fumbles for his grappling squack, and fires.

Flying isn’t something that just comes naturally. It’s a skill that has to be learned and honed, a sport like any other. There are specific muscle groups linked to certain maneuvers, stretches specifically created just for avians who fly professionally, all sorts of things in order to make someone’s wings in perfect shape for all types of flying. Long distance, sprints, racing twirls. Phil is known for being able to do them all– or at least, he had been. He can remember the training, the time he’d put into it. The things he’d had to do in order to instruct his body over and over and make it used to the strain.

It has been more than six months, and his muscles scream.

His shoulders ache. His forearms burn with the stress of pulling Tubbo behind him. His legs cramp and his lower back throbs. The pain is immeasurable, uncountable, uncontrollable. Phil can grit his teeth but it doesn’t stop the flashes of white behind his eyes as he spreads his wings and flies, desperate. He can barely see the horizon as he goes, but he does anyway, listening intently for Tubbo and pushing down the instinct to curl into a ball and sob with the pain.

They land, and it’s a brief moment of relief before they’re off again, Phil firing his grappling squack and Tubbo shouting something unintelligible into the wind behind them. He trusts Tubbo to land the water bucket shots every time he lands, but he only has to a couple times before his MDA pings he’s getting close; his wings are numb by now, the shoots of pain frequent and intense, making him shudder and twitch every three seconds or so. Behind him, Tubbo is yelling, screaming into the wind, and Phil would join him if he wasn’t so out of breath. Every inch of him is on fire– and not in the good way, not in the Bolas way, just in the torturous way. 

He keeps seeing Chayanne. Flashes of yellow on the landscape below. Hope, like a flower, blooming in his chest. But every time he sees it, or sees Tallulah, a black fist crushes that hope with a quick blink. 

Finally, he sees water, and the boat. His wings are on the verge of giving out and he barely gets Tubbo out and over the water before he stumbles, cramps, and pulls into a nosedive.

When he slams into the water, it’s cold– it shocks him, and he inhales by accident, coughing as he breaks the surface. His wings are wet and heavy but he can’t bring himself to care, spitting out clumps of water and dust mixed together into a thick, glue-like paste. He feels like a cement mixer, and ahead of him he can see Tubbo crawling out of the water and onto the back of the boat, hair plastered to his forehead. Somehow, he finds the strength to lift his arms and make his wings spasm in a way that pushes him forward, towards the boat. He feels Tubbo’s hands on his arm and then the faint sound of him shouting, and then Fit invades his gaze and two other hands grasp him, dragging him onto the boat. 

The wood is hard beneath him and Phil lies there for a second, still spitting up water and gunk. Fit and Tubbo are talking, and he clues in just as Fit says–

“Phil, we have to go get the others.”

“I can’t,” he says. Neither of them seem to hear him. His wings lie limp and lifeless behind him, waterlogged and exhausted. His entire back is on fire and his feathers are dull, the weight dragging him back as he forces himself to stand. His body feels like one gigantic bruise.

“We have to get others,” Fit says, the elytra on his back ruffling. Phil envies him, but only for a moment.

“I can’t,” Phil insists. He rummages through his inventory, and comes up with a lasso in his hands. “My wings are gone, dude, they’re– I can’t fly, it’s not physically possible. I can’t get anyone–”

It doesn’t matter how much he wants to. It doesn’t matter how much guilt gnaws at him, tearing through his stomach lining with teeth that gnash and chew. 

“I will, then,” Fit says, determination writ on his brow. His face is impenetrable, but Phil sees his own guilt reflected back at him. “Here, the lasso, I’ll–”

And then he’s gone, and Tubbo is left supporting Phil with one hand, and Phil is still reeling. They have one singular moment to breathe. Phil spits onto the deck, and Tubbo follows suit, red blood mixing with water and then disappearing as another wave washes up onto their feet. They stumble forward and Phil shakes Tubbo off, then shakes off some of the water from his wings. Even that little motion sends acres of pain flashing through him, like sparks of electricity up and down his spinal cord. He thinks he might be dying.

He kind of hopes he is.

God, Chayanne.

“Phil,” Tubbo says, looking at his MDA. It’s ringing, and vaguely Phil realizes his is too. Everything is still a little fuzzy in his ears. “Shit. Meteor. We need to go, we need to–”

And then they’re on the move again.

He has no choice. He runs.

[thecreelhouse]

part time soulmate, full time problem

Paring: Gator Tillman x Alt Fem!Reader (she/her pronouns) || MDNI!! Explicit content, please heed the tags/warnings before reading

Summary:

After leaving the Midwest years ago, you finally make the choice to visit home for the holidays. What’s meant to be a quiet, boring Christmas with your family turns into being snowed in with your ex-best friend, now enemy and absolute pain in the ass, Gator Tillman.

It’s only 3 days. How bad can 3 days be with an ex-friend?

———

read on AO3 here // series playlist

Links to chapters on tumblr, the tags, and author’s note are under the cut here:

Day 1

Day 2

Day 3

Day 4

Day 5

Day 6

Day 7

Day 8

Day 9

Day 10

bonus chapter: knife games

Series is finished, tysm for all of the support on this!! 🫶🏻 the sequel series tramps like us is out and in progress now ☺️

CW/tags: porn with plot, ex-friends, enemies to lovers, toxic banter, two idiots pining while being assholes to cope with feelings, alcohol, hurt/comfort, mentions of death and mourning, misogyny, “daddy issues”, discussing/discovering kinks, masturbation, rough sex, oral sex, PiV/unprotected sex, brat/dom dynamic, daddy kink, femdom, choking, dirty talk, edging/orgasm denial/forced orgasm, cockwarming, anal play, no use of Y/N (Gator uses name calling/pet names for reader), PTSD, familial abuse and domestic violence, generational trauma

A/N (edit 1/12/24 lol): I can’t believe I have to say this, but writing for a character that’s generally not a good person doesn’t mean I condone any garbage behavior said character might do. As for staying 100% canon, I never did to begin with, so I’m flowing with what I got wrong or what I wanted to change for the sake of this series. This is my first time writing for Gator so apologies if I don’t get characterization down!! If any of that bothers you, feel free to skip this one.

Also hope I got all the tags necessary, but I’ll add over time as needed. I had a lot of fun writing so far, and I’m still working on the last chapter, but I hope to have it out soon. Thanks for all the support so far!! enjoy reading!! <3

[flamingpudding]

Part 10 of Ghost Kid in Gotham

>>Masterpost >> AO3

<<1 Previous Next

A/N: A little side information on why this part is so late.... this was originally entirely different. I planned something else but wanted to adjusted that to what I would learn from AGIT but my copy of the book did not arrive yet... soooo this ended up as Part 10 and the original part 10 will be 11 now I guess, we will see :D

A/N(2): Oh btw AO3 link is now out! So far 3 Parts were edited and posted there! I also recently learned that editing a post does not generate a notice. So I will start leaving a comment on the Masterpost whenever a new Part is up. That should hopefully notify anyone subscribed to the Masterpost!

No work at the dinner table

It was supposed to be a normal dinner. His siblings were supposed to just meet his twin brother. Get to meet him and help him enable a somewhat normal childhood with the second chance Damian was getting with Danyal. Yet here he was hugging, no clutching his brother closer to him as he stared at their father at the head of the table furthest away from the twins.

Danyal's entire attention was on the man. There was no adverse reaction like the last time but he knew by his brother's body language that he was entirely focused on their father. The moment the man had spoken their mothers name Damian had felt how Danyals entire demeanor had changed. It was obviously the league training. The way the boy sat up straighter and his shoulders tensed.

The dinner had started relatively well all things considered. Drake had set up a powerpoint with ground rules for how their siblings were supposed to approach and not crowd Danyal. Of course they barely listened once they got to see the boy and Brown was the first one to nearly get bitten by the young boy attempting to pinch his cheeks. Damian had scowled.

But he had also watched on with fondness as he reluctantly had let go of his brother. He knew he was developing an unhealthy clinginess. But could they blame him? He had believed his brother to be dead for eight year and now finally got im back. Damian believed that a little protectiveness was well in his rights.

Brown had no business in teasing him about his brotherly display. Though he did drone when his siblings started discussing who of the two was the 'evil' twin. Did they not know that both Danyal and him were known as Demon Twins in the league? Questioning who of the two was 'evil' was rather foolish and when he voiced these thoughts he had to hide more of his puzzlement as they laughed.

He felt his vindictiveness calm when Danyal bit Brown soon after and despite him not wanting his brother to literally bite them. At least he could trust that Brown would not cause his brother sickness if bitten, he did not believe the same in regards to his elder brothers.

All it all the dinner was shaping up to be quite fine that was until their father stormed in with Richard closely following him. Damian wasn't sure how to categorize the expressions they were making but he let his instincts take over as he scooped up Danyal in his arms and chose the seat furthest away from their father. But if he had to he would at least call the face Richard was making pensive.

He did notice from the corner of his eyes how Todd choose a seat close to them and radiated a rather protective aura while glaring at their father. The next words the man spoke was enough to calm down even the last bit of excitement their siblings had for meeting Danyal as they all soberly waited for what their father had to say.

"I have been able to reach Talia."

Which brought him to the current situation. He felt how the air tensed. His mother had always been a difficult topic for all of them and he could not blame them. She had a rather strange way of showing love especially with the strong influence grandfather used to have on her.

"Danyal is not supposed to be eight years old." Damian's eyes narrowed as his hold once more tightened on his brother. What did father mean by that? Of course Danyal was supposed to be the same age as Damian, but he had died and only gotten revived recently.

"Bruce, maybe we should…" Richard was interrupted by their father laying out a stack of papers. The man's eyes were hard, clearly unhappy with whatever his mother had done and Damian couldn't blame him for that. He himself still felt conflicted whenever he thought about his mother reviving his dead twin after eight years.

The youngest Wayne looked down at the twin in his arms. Noting how his brother's eyes flickered between blue and green as they were trained on their father.

"Danyal al Ghul died at the age of eight. Talia revived him shortly after he had died." His head snapped up. What?

"According to what Talia was willing to share. Danyal did not come back the same, unable to handle Danyal she had then placed him in an adoption Center in Chicago hiding any traces she could of his revival."

"What?" The whisper was out before he could stop it. Todd was glaring even more intensely at their father. Unspoken works of Danyal having gone through the same Pit Madness that Todd had were clearly there. Richard had moved to stand by Damian and Todd, a grounding hand placed on each of their shoulders as the information ran through all of their minds.

His twin hadn't been revived recently but eight years ago?

"With that information I traced it back as far as I was able to. A family with the name of Fenton adopted him and he lived with them for eight years until he was declared dead about a month ago by a governmental institution."

Their father finally took a seat looking right at him and his twin.

"When did you find Danyal?"

"Danny. He likes to be called Danny." Damian said more or less out of reflex, he would recognise if shock set it wouldn't he? He was trained that way. Richard was squeezing his shoulder and his brother was squirming in his arms.

"About four days ago. Kid appeared in my apartment out of nowhere. Thought Dickie was playing a prank on me."

Their father hned and Todd's words. "That still leaves a good three weeks of no information between Dan-ny's revival and his foster parents declaring him dead."

"A governmental institution declared him dead?" Drake questioned further. "Not the police? Was there even a search?"

"They searched for him for a week before he was declared dead." Richard was the one speaking up this time. At the imploring looks of their siblings the elder brother shrugged. "I looked through the reports Bruce had laying all over his office when I…. talked with him."

Clearly there was more to the 'talk' than his eldest brother was willing to say but Damian would question that later more. Right now his focus was his twin. "So something must have happened during that time that not only deaged my brother but also brought him to us. Mother did not have a hand in this this time?"

Their father shook his head no. "If I can believe her words. She left him alone knowing that once Danny regained his mind he would not seek out the league to keep you safe. Talia denies having anything to do with his relocating or dealing. But she did admit to having had someone occasionally check in on the boy but refused to say anything more on that matter."

Damian's hold tightened once more and his brother was obviously squirming in his hold now, wiggling to find a more comfortable position. He heard a chirp and his eyes looked down at the blue eyes of his brother staring up at him.

Something has happened to his brother to leave him in this state. For now he could ignore that his mother had withheld the information that his brother had been alive all these years. He could ignore the hurt he felt over it and he could ignore the fact that Danyal had not attempted to connect with him to protect Damian once more. He would focus on finding out what had been done to his brother and to ensure that he would be safe now.

His siblings were discussing something around him but he was not really listening as his focus was on his brother in his arms. This time he would get to be the one to protect him.

"Ahbak, Danny." He whispered to the boy looking at him with big blue eyes and he could feel Richard squeezing his shoulder once more as he buried his face in his twin's hair.

"Ahbak, Dami!" The child in his hands told him and Damian once more swore, he would find out what happened to his brother and he would protect him. Everything else he would deal with once he ensured his brother's safety.

"By the way, I have one burning question!" Brown suddenly piped up interrupting whatever discussions were going on and stared at the child and the teen that were supposed to be twins of the same age. Their serious discussion was forgotten as she broke the tension that had built up with her next words.

"Who is the older twin?"

The short silence spoke volumes as Danmian raised an eyebrow at his siblings and Danyal made another chirping noise.

"It's obviously Damian."

"But from what Damian told us I would think it's Danny."

"Did you see how feral he is? He is the youngest."

"But Damian said Danny was protective! That is the mark of an older sibling!"

"You shitting me? He's the younger."

"Older."

"Guys this sounds awfully a lot like the evil twin discussion from earlier…"

"Yea the little shit is the evil younger twin."

"No, the stabby one is the evil younger twin."

"You're biased, because he tried to kill you before."

"And you're biased because you're the favorite chewtoy."

All his siblings were imbeciles, even his twin brother with his recent habit of biting anyone that came too close was better behaved than them. He clicked his tongue, though he smiled fondly as down at his brother who suddenly had started to hiss at Brown for trying to pinch the boy's cheek to prove something. "<tt> Danyal was… is the older one between the two of us."

Also Damian could feel Pennyworth staring at them all from the passage door to the kitchen with high disapproval as he was ready to serve dinner but apparently refused to do so until father put away the stacks of reports in regards to his twin, that obviously broke the butlers no work at the table rule.

[astupidweeb69]

Unrequited (Yandere! Ticci Toby x Reader) Part 9

Links to Previous Chapters: Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Part 7, Part 8

Author’s Note: I've been rereading this chapter for about a week trying to edit it, but decided I'd just go ahead and post it. Happy holidays everybody!

Cross-posted on my Ao3 account, which I update more frequently.

Warnings: Swearing. Descriptions of Gore. Some threats of violence. (2,070 words)

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Leaves crunched underneath heavy boots, ragged and irritated breaths came out in clouds against the cold. 

Toby was not pleased.

Not pleased with how things were going with you.

And not pleased with being texted by Tim.

Apparently there was some work to do and he had to ‘get his lazy ass over there’. The young proxy didn’t even know the details of what needed to be done. A supply run? Some more random campers in the area? Either way Toby was itching for a fight. 

He could feel anger in his system bubbling and ready to boil over. Just imagining Tim’s smug face waiting for him, probably ready to spat some nonsense about how ‘he’s late’ or make a snide comment on his appearance. His face twitched furiously at the idea, and if anyone was unfortunate enough to see the way he walked through the woods now, they’d surely run in the other direction. There was murder in the man’s eyes. 

It wouldn’t take long for Toby to find his teammate. That’s how things always worked though, they had a connection to find each other when they were supposed to, all he needed to do was walk mindlessly in a direction and let the forest guide him.

“Someone’s in a pissy mood.”

The smell of smoke let him know he found who he was looking for. Tim leaned on a tree, a wry smile on his face, a lit cigarette burning away at his fingertips. It was practically an extension of his hand at this point, the fucking chainsmoker. Toby learned to hate the scent of tobacco.

“Where’s Brian?” Toby frowned, ignoring Tim’s comment.

“Had something he needed to do.”

Tim looked disinterested in the conversation. Getting him to actually tell Toby what was going on was like pulling teeth. And Toby knew first hand how hard that could be.

“Suh-so? Why’d you cuh-call me out here?” The younger proxy fidgeted with the ends of his gloves.

Tim sighed, letting the last part of his cigarette drop to the ground, putting it out with his boot. “There’s been some weird things happening out here. Brian said you should come with me to investigate.” 

Toby made note of how he said ‘Hoodie’. Tim’s way of hinting that he didn’t want him there. Typical.

“Wuh-what do you mean weird things?”

Tim motioned with his head for him to follow, walking away into some bushes, Toby raised one of his eyebrows before complying. There was a rancid stench in the air when he started following him, like something died. Not uncommon in the forest, but it was hard to stomach even for the most experienced woodsman. 

They followed the smell of rotting flesh, down a small embankment. The dead leaves on the ground made it hard not to slip and fall, and Toby snickered when Tim lost his footing a couple times, making the older proxy shoot him a dirty look. 

“There up ahead.” After walking a few paces, Tim pointed to a mangled pile of fur splayed out against a group of pine trees. 

Toby’s eyes narrowed at the bloody mess in front of him, turning to the other man in irritation. 

“You dragged me out here for a duh-dead deer?”

“Take a closer look, Rogers.”

Toby shoved past Tim, making a point to bump into his shoulder for using the nickname he hated. He pulled up the mouthguard hanging from his neck to cover his nose, but it didn’t block out the smell nearly as much as he’d hoped. It took a lot of willpower not to gag.

He scanned over the remains noting different sized bite marks and scratches that tore through the animal's belly, viscera pooling out and its black lifeless eyes staring up at the sky. A swarm of maggots had already started the process of decay. 

Toby could see the red of Tim’s flannel out the corner of his eye.

“Well?”

“Okay, it’s a luh-little strange. I’ll give you that. The bite muh-marks look like they came from a  human.”

“Anything else, detective?” Tim mused, clearly noticing something else but liked toying with the kid.

“Just fucking spit it out.”

The older man kneeled down, motioning to two different spots on the deer's hind legs. “They’re all different sizes, meaning more than one person did this.”

“Cuh-cool.” Toby deadpanned. “So what does that mean for us?” 

“It means we need to keep an eye out for groups of ravin’ lunatics.”

“Don’t we already duh-do that?”

Tim rolled his eyes. “You know what I mean. This is the second animal we’ve found like this in a week.”

“And yuh-you only thought to tell me now?”

“I was busy.” Tim shrugged, the corner of his lip curling up slightly. The man did not give two shits about warning Toby sooner. Probably didn’t even want to tell him now. If anything, Brian most likely had to convince him to.

The younger proxy scowled at him, tempted to escalate things, to cause another one of their fights ending with the two trying to claw the others' eyes out. Not that it would hurt him, and Toby always got some sick amusement seeing Tim in pain. But it would be dark soon, and he was itching to get back home. The thought of you back there tied up on his bed was making him scratch at his scar. 

He needed to spend more time with you. The look in your eyes as he paced around the cabin…. The look of fear and hatred. It wasn’t unexpected, but it still bugged him. You were… a bit more of a firecracker than he’d hoped. And level-headed unfortunately. You were catching on a little too quickly, to just how…. Temperamental he could be. The memory of you staring at his hatchets came back to him. He needed you to see his softer side, needed you to warm up to him before the truth, the real truth, about what he was came out. Maybe if he stole an old TV and got some of those movies you liked….

“Rogers!”

A finger snapped inches from his face. Toby blinked.

“Wuh-What?” 

“I told you we need to get goin’” Tim pushed Toby forward impatiently. “It’s almost night time. Come on.”

He could hear Tim muttering “Fuckin’ useless kid.” under his breath as he led the way.

Toby’s stomach twisted. That phrase got to him. Was something he’d heard a lot, from somewhere before, something in his past. Something familiar. Tim taunted him in ways that sparked a deep resentment, like an itch he could never fully scratch. A scab that wouldn’t heal.

They walked back the way they came in, up the hill and through the thick bushes, without saying a word. One thing they could agree on was the less they talked, the better.

Luckily Toby’s cabin wasn’t too far. Fiddling with the ends of his jacket, combing his hair, absentmindedly, he was glad to be rid of the old fucker finally and get back to what was important.

But things never worked out the way he wanted.

Toby felt a hand on his arm. Tim lit up another cigarette, his eyes narrowed at Toby, before taking a long, deep, drag into his lungs. .

Smoke billowed from the man’s mouth, surrounding him in a thick cloud as he spoke.

“Before you go, I need somethin’ from your cabin.”

Fuck.

Toby stared at him for a moment. His mind went blank, before finally speaking up.

“Wuh-what do you need?” 

He’d just act normal. It wouldn’t be a big deal. He could figure something out.

“Hoods and I are running low on some supplies. We know Kate keeps some of her stuff in your basement. Figured we’d borrow some things.” 

The boy twitched and fidgeted under the pressure, trying to come up with ways to get out of it. If Tim saw you… Toby didn’t even want to think about what he’d do. He honestly didn’t know.

“What… kuh-kind of things-sss?” Shit. His stutter was getting worse.

Tim raised a brow. Likely annoyed by how standoffish the other proxy was being at something simple.

“Like food n’ ammo. We’ve been too busy to go into town.” Tim paused, and looked almost accusingly at him. “And I know you’ve been leaving the forest a lot recently.”

Toby chewed on the side of his cheek. Of course the other proxies sensed his disappearance. He’d been too preoccupied with you to even think about that being a possibility. That didn’t mean they cared when he was gone, they weren’t his babysitter. But now Tim had him over a barrel. There was no way he could deny him supplies now, without admitting the reason he went into town was for… something out of the ordinary.

“Fuh-fine.” He sighed, trying to collect his thoughts. “Just duh-don’t touch any of my stuff.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it.”

______________________________________________________________

The cabin was just up ahead. Toby kept glancing back at Tim who seemed too preoccupied in his own thoughts to notice.

“Whuh-wait outside for a second. There’s suh-something I need to take care of first.” 

Tim eyed him carefully. They both stood on the porch, tension rising, Tim’s body stiffening and his hands balling into fists for a brief moment. Toby fully expecting him to lash out. 

Tim always thought the boy was weird. Fucked up in the head. Overly-emotional, unstable, obnoxious, and he’s seen the worst of Toby’s manic episodes. He was almost certain the kid engaged in some light cannibalism, from the way he mumbled to himself in his delusional states. He was so fucking glad they didn’t live under the same roof anymore.

Finally, after a few moments of staring the other down, Tim relaxed. “Whatever, just don’t take too long.”  The older man decided he’d do whatever it took to get the fuck outta there, even if that meant having to obey. Despite how much that bruised his ego, he just wanted to go home and sleep.

Toby quickly went inside, slamming the door behind him, and Tim sat on the steps of the porch with a reluctant grunt.

Twitching anxiously, he ran into the room where you were tied to the bed. You jumped, obviously startled, by the door aggressively being opened. Normally he’d mock you, wanting to give a fake ‘awwww’ at how freaked out you were by his presence. He was still mad about how you've been treating him. But he didn’t have the time for that right now.

He opened the drawer to his nightstand, getting out an old t-shirt.

“Wha-” You started to question, but he cut you off by shoving the cloth in your mouth painfully. He tied it around your head, a little too tight, but he needed to make sure you were properly gagged and wouldn’t be heard.

Toby leaned down to your ear, speaking in a low hiss. “You nuh-need to be fucking quiet. I have a guest. He’s dangerous, so don’t get any ideas. No one’s coming to save you.”

He gripped your jawline tightly. “Do you uh-understand?” You stared back at him. Toby narrowed his eyes, tightening his hold on your face even more, until you finally nodded your head.

He released his hand and exited the room, mentally preparing himself to interact with Tim again, and with a deep breath, opened the front door.

“Okay, you can cuh-come in now.”

Tim groaned as he got up to follow him inside. 

Toby couldn’t help letting his eyes dart to his bedroom door when they walked past. He led Tim down the hall where the basement stairs were, which he started keeping locked the day he captured you. He didn’t need you to see what was down there. Hopefully not ever.

After Toby unlocked the door and showed him the various backpacks stolen from victims, Tim rummaged through a couple before collecting the items he needed. Mostly food, a couple old boxes of ammo. Nothing special.

His heart was pounding when they climbed the stairs again, so close to getting this over with. Wanting nothing more than to have him out of the house. Away from you.

But without warning, Tim stopped in the hallway, 

It was so sudden Toby almost bumped into his back.

“Whuh-what is it?”

There was a dangerously long pause, before Tim’s head turned to look behind his shoulder. Toby's eyes widened in fear.

“Did you hear that?”

[ghostboybrainrot]

Out of Touch Part 2

Part 1, Part 3, Part 4, AO3

Edit: I'm starting the process of transferring these to AO3. Click the link above to subscribe and get updates more reliably! (But don't worry I'll keep posting on Tumblr, too)

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It’s odd being invisible to the living world. Danny doesn’t have to put on a performance. He doesn’t have to awkwardly smile at strangers. He doesn’t have to monitor his facial expressions to make other people feel more comfortable. In a way it's nice. Freeing, even.

He didn't have to worry about people misconstruing his actions or his words. Assuming he had ulterior motives. Looking at him like he was weird for asking clarifying questions.

He wasn't judged for asking someone to explain a joke. He wasn't called rude and self-centered for sharing a similar experience when a friend was venting about their problems. He wanted to understand. He wanted to connect. But it felt like the way he did it was always wrong.

He'd been lucky to find friends who understood him. Who shared in his idiosyncrasies. 

He didn't have that anymore, but at least he didn't have to pretend either. It was a small victory, but he still counted it

Of course, his invisibility didn't affect the dead. They could see him just fine. And many do not like what they see. His ghost form had been shifting. He hadn’t made change consciously.

When he looked at himself he saw something sharper, something darker than he used to be. He wasn't happy about it but he didn't feel the need to dwell. This was who he was now. He didn't have any control over it.

If the other spirits he came across flinched away from him, he tried not to let it bother him. Spirits were just people. And he could deal with people.

Fortunately, most ghosts were too distracted by their own problems to pay him much mind. The shades floated around usually tethered to a specific location, sometimes a specific person. They interacted with things that were not there. They carried on conversations with themselves. If Danny attempted to talk to them, they would respond. He’d even held a decent conversation with a couple. But he couldn’t shake the feeling that he wasn’t seeing the same things he was. That their reality was much different than his. Once he’d finished talking, they’d continue about their business as though he wasn’t ever there. 

)-(

Danny had settled in an abandoned apartment near Park Row, or Crime Alley, as the locals called it. The building was only 3 stories. It had been condemned but had never gotten around to being torn down. It's not property investors were going to want to build something in it's place. Not in Crime Alley.

The bottom floor had been boarded up at one point but the boards on the back entrance had long since been pried off. Several squatters had made the bottom floor their temporary home. If they heard odd noises coming from the upper floor they ignored it.

Once, a man had come to the top floor to look around. He stepped carefully, testing his weight on the unstable floor. He checked the empty apartments. They’d long since been picked clean. When he neared the door at the end of the hall a chill shot up his spine. This door was closed, unlike the other three which had been swinging ajar before he’d arrived. Was someone already squatting in there? No one had mentioned it to him. He’d stayed here a few times now. Surely, if someone had already claimed the room, he’d have heard about it. He continued to approach the door. The cold sensation was worse the closer he got. He started shivering slightly and he could see his breath misting in front of him.

Weird. He swore it hadn’t been this cold outside earlier. How could it be so cold INSIDE. Maybe a window had been left open? That would explain why this door was closed. The wind had probably blown it shut. It had to be empty. No one would be able to stay in these freezing temperatures. 

If nothing else he should go and close the window. Wouldn’t want a draft to follow him downstairs. They needed to conserve the heat the best they could. 

He grasped the door knob. For a moment he worried his hand would stick to it. It was like holding a ball of ice. He attempted to turn it. Locked. 

He wasn’t sure why but he let go of the handle and raised his hand to knock on the door. Three short raps echoed in the empty hall. For a moment there was silence.

Then. Three short raps answered from the other side of the door.

He jumped back. Okay, someone was in there after all. Weirdo. Who the hell locked themselves in an abandoned freezing apartment. Before he could decide whether to tell this person off or just mind his business, he heard it again.

Three more knocks. These were much louder.

Suddenly there was a steady pounding on the door. It rattled from the impacts. The man’s heart leapt in his throat. He’d had enough. He started making his way back to the stairs. The pounding hadn’t stopped. If anything, it had gotten even louder. And closer! It was following him! It was coming from the walls in the hallway now. He could hear it coming from the other empty apartments. Everything was pounding. The whole building seemed to be shaking. He didn’t remember bolting but next thing he knew he was running down the stairs. Not paying attention to the cracks in the floor, as he had on the way up. He took 2 steps at a time. By the time he reached the bottom, the onslaught of sound had stopped. 

At first he didn't notice. He could still feel the pounding. It felt like the banging was coming from inside his head. It took him a moment to notice it was his own heartbeat hammering in his ears.

He spent several minutes at the bottom of the stairs, hands on his knees gasping for breath. After his heart finally slowed and his breath came easier, he went back to the room where he'd placed his sleeping bag.

He thought about packing it up. This place no longer felt safe. What if whatever it was followed him? 

He glanced at the door that led to the stairwell. If it were going to follow him it already would have. It was already late and this wasn't the first time he'd crashed here. And something told him, whatever it was, hadn't just arrived. He swallowed nervously. It had probably been above him this whole time.

He looked back down at his sleeping bag. He'd paused partway through rolling it up. Lost in thought. Finally, he decided to stay. At least for the night. He rolled it back out and got ready to get some rest. He was exhausted. The adrenaline from only 10 minutes prior had fled his system. Leaving his muscles weak and his brain foggy.

He wasn't going to be able to find a safer place this late. There were worse things than ghosts haunting the streets of Gotham at night.

If his upstairs neighbor didn’t want to be bothered. He just wouldn’t bother them.

—-

Danny felt a little guilty for scaring the guy. In the moment it had been exhilarating. Like playing a prank. After all, he had no intention of ACTUALLY harming him. He wasn't in danger. He just didn't want the guy poking his nose around his stuff.

But of course the man had no way of knowing Danny wasn't a threat. It wasn’t like Danny was going to jump out and yell 'Gotcha!' In fact, that probably would just scare the guy even more. 

Danny looked down at his hands. They were clouds of black smoke. The edges were fuzzy and undefined. His fingers were long and came to sharp points. 

Scary, he thought.

Before he could linger too long on that uncomfortable thought, Danny decided to make it up to the guy.

It took a while for the man to fall asleep, unsurprisingly. But Danny waited patiently.

)-(

When the man woke up the next day he found a few cans of soup, some clean socks, and a small pack of baby wipes. It had been stacked neatly next to his backpack. Clearly, it had been left for him. He looked around but no one else had come to join him in the night and the door to the room was still locked.

He didn’t mention the interaction to anyone. And none of the other squatters mentioned it either. He knew they had to have heard it. The pounding that shook the building. He knew he hadn’t imagined it. Even if he had, it didn’t explain the food left in a locked room in the middle of the night. 

He decided whatever this entity was. It wasn’t kicking him out. Just expressing a boundary. He could handle that. As long as he left the apartment upstairs alone, he should be fine.

Hopefully.

)-(

Danny hoped the guy would see the gifts as an olive branch. He thought about leaving a note, but decided against it. It was one thing to insinuate that the building was haunted. It was another thing, entirely, to come right out and say it. 

Hey I'm the ghost that haunts the upper floors! Sorry to give you a fright. Here's some food as an apology just stay out of my area, okay? 

Thanks!

He smiled at the thought. It'd be funny but l would just bring more attention to him. The last thing he needed was other people finding his haunt. A note was tangible. The guy could show others. More people would want to investigate. Without any concrete proof, people were less likely to believe him.

Danny did not want to have to move, especially when he had just gotten settled.

He’d just gotten running water. It had taken a lot of time and effort but he'd finally figured out how to turn the water back on.. He'd had to phase through a lot of walls holding a flashlight in his teeth. It had taken a week of following pipes around and messing with valves, but he’d done it! Granted, when he first got it, it still went out randomly and it wasn't hot or even warm. But it was a start.

Now getting electricity, that had been much harder. He wasn't an electrical engineer. He felt uncomfortable with the idea of trying to mess with high voltage wires. Getting electrocuted again, scared him more than he'd ever admit, even to himself.

Eventually, he settled for a small generator. He'd pilfered it from a big chain farming supply shop several miles outside of Gotham. It was a pain lugging it all the way back. It wasn’t that he was too weak to carry it, but it had been very awkward to hold.

He set it up on the roof above his apartment. Feeding the wire down into the apartments poking holes through walls. It didn’t look professional but it worked. 

The best part was that he’d gotten a model powerful enough to run the old hot water heater.

Danny hadn't taken a hot bath in months. The closest he got was taking quick showers in the 24 hour gym down the street. He'd go in the middle of the night after patrol when no one was around. But he tried not to linger in case someone decided to do an early morning workout. Those showers were more functional than relaxing. 

He didn't need to bathe that often, anyway. He spent more time in his ghost form than his living form and he didn't sweat when he was dead. He'd been getting by on baby wipes and paper towel baths at the sink in public restrooms.

So, when he finally had an opportunity to have a real bath. He decided to treat himself.

He lit a couple tealight candles and set them on the counter. He turned out the lights. The bath/shower combo wasn't very deep but fortunately Danny wasn't a very tall teenager. For the first time he counted himself lucky that dying had stunted his growth.

He had swiped a bath bomb from a dollar store a few blocks away. He'd never used one before but he figured he should at least try one to get the full relaxing bath experience. He drew himself a warm bath and dropped the lavender-scented bomb into it.

As soon as he sunk into  the water he immediately felt himself start to drift. He couldn't remember the last time he'd felt this relaxed. He closed his eyes and was asleep within minutes. 

)-(

Danny was having a bad night. 

Nights? He wasn’t sure. 

He’d gotten carried away again. He felt that familiar tug at his stomach. He wasn’t sure for how long. He knew he needed to stop. To take a break. At least grab a drink or something to eat. But he knew if he stopped, if he switched forms, he'd be too exhausted to switch back. 

He just kept telling himself one more. Just one more person to save. Just one more person to stop. And then he would rest.

As he neared his apartment he felt his form stutter. 

Oh no.

Just a little bit farther. He could still make it! The form continued to stutter. He felt gravity pulling on him. He couldn't keep flying like this.

He looked for a place he could land. There was an empty alley below him. Only 50 feet or so ahead. He angled his descent. But he was falling too fast. His ghost form continued to flicker, petering out 20 feet above the ground. He plummeted, reaching out trying to find purchase on the side of the building. Only managing to scrape his palm. He hit the ground on his side, with a soft thud.

He groaned. He had definitely broken something. His earlier exhaustion had been replaced with sheer terror as he'd fallen. This was the only thing allowing him the energy to push up off the pavement. He sat in the alley wincing with every movement. He took inventory. His shoulder was bruised as hell. He'd, also, bruised his ribs, breaking at least one. He was lucky he was so resilient. Falling from that height would have been much worse if he wasn't already half-dead.

He tried to pull himself to his feet. His leg buckled under the weight and he fell back on his backside. He'd definitely messed up his knee. He reached down to palpate around the joint. It was tender and he could already tell it was starting to swell.

Great.

He pulled himself up again favoring the side that hadn't impacted the ground. He braced himself against the wall of the building. His vision swam. He realized it probably had more to do with the fact that his blood sugar was dangerously low than his injuries. 

After a couple minutes, his vision began to clear and he could take in his surroundings. 

Good news, he knew where he was. He was close to his apartment. Bad news, his apartment was in crime alley. And he had a couple blocks and two flights of stairs before he could get to it.

Danny did not like his chances of getting there unscathed. Normally, it wouldn't be a problem. He could just switch to ghost form and fly straight there. But seeing as how he'd already been doing that, and he'd fallen from the sky. He didn't think this was going to be an option.

He tried anyway. Focusing hard on fading into his phantasmal form. He felt the barest hint of a flicker but no transformation came. 

Figures. 

The adrenaline from the fall had worn off, at this point. He was feeling woozy again. His exhaustion and hunger hitting him full force. 

The ground next to a nearby dumpster started to look very enticing. His eyes were drooping. He had enough awareness left to know if he was going to pass out he needed to hide.

It wasn't the first time he'd had to take an impromptu nap in an alley. Usually, he found a cozy dumpster to crawl in to sleep it off. Bit his leg was too injured and he was too weak to pull himself up. 

Behind the dumpster would have to do.

He kept his hand against the wall as he stumbled forward, ignoring the pain in his palm from the scrape, he'd suffered during the fall. He wondered, dully, if it was a bad idea to be rubbing an open wound on a grimey building. Probably not, but he'd have to worry about that later.

He felt like he was moving through molasses. As he rounded the side of the dumpster he looked back, making sure no one was watching. Satisfied he was alone, he tucked himself into the corner behind it. He was already pretty small. It didn't take much to pull his hood over his head and pull his knees to his chest. He pulled a few loose pieces of plastic and cardboard over him. With that and his grimey clothes he was pretty sure it would be hard to spot him. At least, in the dark.

Certain this was as good as it was going to get, he closed his eyes and fell immediately into a dreamless sleep.

He hadn't noticed the figure in the dark when he'd fallen. He hadn't noticed its eyes watching him as he pulled himself up and limped toward the dumpster. And, he didn't notice as the figure approached the sleeping boy.

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

Sorry to anyone who was waiting for me to update my Ghost Zone Amity fic! This one was making my brain itch so this is the one you get.

I love getting comments! Keep them coming. Who do you think found Danny? Is it one of the bats? Is it a rogue? Let me know what you think so far!

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@alinmenttreasure @quirky-gardener @mnemovoid @amercurio @may-rbi

@allmune @i-havenothingelsetopost @kittenline @alienzil