#fanfic of a fanfic

[playedcrowd5610]

What If... The Bat's Answered Phantom's Phone?

Set as an AU at the end of Chapter 2 of "A Little Overshadowing Never Hurt Anyone" But can be read as an independent oneshot <3

—"What were you doing in Gotham?" The Dark Knight demanded, ignoring the ghost boy's previous comment.

"Just hanging out. I don't have any real reason to be here. Wanted to see the sights, I guess." Danny shrugged, trying to play it off. It was a lie, but he couldn't tell him anything about his parents or the ghost-hunting convention, since there could be a chance he could figure out Danny’s identity that way. 

Once again, Batman's expression didn't change, just as stone-cold as ever. That was annoying. Normally Danny was really good at reading people. Especially ghosts. It was much easier for them to read each other with their cores and emotions. But with humans, it was much harder. Especially this human.

Suddenly Danny jumped at the sound of his phone ringing… and he knew it was his phone because a remix of the “Ghostbusters theme” was playing.  Danny put his head down covering his face with his hands,  He really shouldn't worry about being embarrassed while being kidnapped with a bunch of ghost tech in some eccentric white guy's creepy bat basement, yet here we are.

The only other person in the room besides Batman stood up. It was the boy in the domino mask., Robin? Wait- Weren’t there multiple now?  Danny couldn’t keep track anymore.  Either way, emo mini Bat jr, a coffee in his hand, walked over to a table filled with ghost-hunting weapons, the majority of which was his parents’ designs.  Danny felt a shiver go down his spine and pushed himself back a bit further in the cage. His fear did not go unnoticed by the boy, who glanced sideways with a frown.

He reached down and started going through the pockets of a belt that lay on the table as the phone kept blaring loudly, Danny glanced down to his waist. He didn’t even realize that they had removed the phone until just now.  Finally, the teenage boy managed to wrangle it out of one of the pockets and held it high in victory before looking at the caller ID.

“B,” The kid started.  “It’s someone named Jazz.”  Danny’s eyes widened. He knew she would be worried right now!   And what was the one thing she told him before he went into Gotham? ‘Danny, stay away from all of those Gotham vigilantes tonight — it can be dangerous.’ The phone abruptly stopped ringing, and Danny breathed a sigh of relief.  But then the boy started scrolling through the phone, or at least the lock screen. “Dozens of missed messages and three missed calls.”  He raised an eyebrow at Danny as if waiting for him to respond.

“She worries.”  Danny shrugs before rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly.  Suddenly, the phone blares to life again. Danny’s ears twitch at the sound.  The ringtone starts again.  

“Bring it here, Red Robin,”  Batman says, holding out his hand.  Well, at least Danny now knows his name.   He narrows his eyes at the device like it is somehow out to get him and his whole family.  Danny would have laughed at the expression if he weren’t terrified for his afterlife right now.  After a couple of seconds, it stopped, only to restart again quickly after.

“She is not going to stop until you answer!”  Danny snaps, annoyed.  Batman seems to be in thought for a moment before holding the phone in between the vigilantes and the ghost, hitting answer on speakerphone.  Danny’s eyes widened instantly, in shock that he answered it. Danny was mostly kidding, he didn’t expect the Dark Knight to really answer! Now what should he do?

“Danny, oh my word! Where are you?!! I swear to Clockwork, if you got yourself hurt or anything… I’ve been worried sick! And with all of those hunters around! I told you to be careful, and to come back soon!  You were just getting air! Please tell me you’re okay.”  Danny winced back at every part of the call, but everyone in the room had their eyes glued to the phone, undoubtedly absorbing all the information Danny just gave them.  

“Jazz, Jazz I’m fine!”  Red Robin looked over at Danny as if to say, ‘You don’t look fine.’  Danny glared back his best ‘Mind your own damn business response..

“Danny, where are you?  I’ve been holding off mom and dad for as long as I can.”  Danny winced and winced hard, glancing up at the two listening into the conversation, looming over him.  “Right now they think you’re at the library, and it’s the middle of the night!”

Danny laughed nervously.  “Jazz, don’t worry, I’ll be okay, I always am.  I just got a bit lost and sensed a soul eater so I followed to find out if they were okay.  He saw Batman narrow his eyes again (if that was even possible — they should be closed at this point) at he mention of ‘soul eater’. 

 Danny felt slightly offended for them, but they did have a strange name.  For your information, soul eaters are just ghosts who need energy or ectoplasm to survive and make a body. They have to either take it from others or absorb it in an ectoplasm-rich environment, and if Danny has some to spare, he normally shares Soul eaters are a step above echo ghosts.  Two of the ones Danny had encountered were Spectra, who absorbed children’s emotions as a therapist to give herself a body, and Shadow, the ghost that has bonded itself to Johnny 13 in order to get as much ectoplasm as he needs in return for helping Johnny.  But enough of that rant.

“Okay, but you better be back soon okay?  Especially with all the hunters around. I don’t want you getting captured!”  

Danny glanced up at the two bats and laughed awkwardly.  “Ah yeah, we don’t want that happening now.  Just don’t worry too much, Jazz; get some rest, I’ll catch up with you later.”

“You better!”  Batman then pulled his gloved finger up and pressed the hang-up button.

Danny scowled up at the man, “There, you happy?  You got all that information out of me. You seem proud of yourself.”  Danny went to lean back, but burned himself on the bars, flinching as he felt the stinging sensation on his shoulder, hissing and baring his fangs.

Batman said nothing. It looked like his little robin was about to pitch in but then thought better of it and slinked away.  Suddenly, there was a ping on Batman’s belt.  He looked at it for only a second before stating “I have to go. Red Robin, stay here.”

)-(

Danny was staring down at the floor of his cage as he now floated cross-legged just above the ground.  What was he supposed to do now? Batman was gone and Red Robin was now pacing around the cave, either doing wide circles around the cage or just pacing around the whole cave in general. It looked like he was also kind of muttering to himself. Kind of strange, but Danny did the same so who was he to judge?  But the important thing was he never let the cage out of his line of sight.  He almost felt like Danny was being hunted by a shark at the rate this guy was going.

Danny knew he needed to escape somehow.  He glanced again over all of those weapons on the desk. He needed to get out of here, and quickly He knows that even though he called, Jazz would still be worried.  But with Red Robin ever on the lookout, that would be hard.

It would be hard to rewire the whole cage, especially because Red Robin keeps silently watching him — it's kinda creepy. Danny grabbed onto his hair and pulled, unsure of what to do.  Suddenly there was a clanging sound and Danny jumped, eyes darting around until he noticed that Red Robin was staring up at him right in front of the cage. His hands were on the door.

Danny stared at him, puzzled, and tilted his head to the side, eyes glued to each other in the tense moment.  Suddenly, the boy’s hands started moving and he was unlocking the cage. Danny’s eyes widened. “What are you doing?”  He asked, still stunned that the kid had come so close.  

The boy paused for a moment, thinking to himself. “Letting you out.”  The door swung open with Tim holding it and staring at the ghost expectantly.  Danny stayed where he was in the cage, floating, unsure of whether or not to trust this new opportunity.

“What about Batman, won't he be mad at you?”  Danny asked, surprised his Robin would go against him like this. 

“I think…”  Red Robin paused.  “I think Batman would understand, and I think we were wrong about ghosts,  I was stupid to go along with this. Anyone who’d spend more than five minutes with you would know you are a sentient, innocent, person...  I’m sorry.”

Danny laughed awkwardly, “Wow, you're the first person to say that in a long time.”  Red Robin returned with a light smile, almost a grimace.

“Here, let's get you out of here before B gets back.”  He reached down and grabbed onto Danny's arm, pulling him out of the cage and leading him through the cave. Normally, Danny would have flinched at being grabbed, but this… wasn't so bad. 

---

Tim led them through the tunnels underneath Wayne's manor to not reveal their identities, he knew the tunnels by heart and managed to make enough turns that Danny couldn't follow them back.

[goodday-goodmorn]

Rahhhh it’s Christmas and i’m back! Today’s feature (feature? Should i start calling them that? Sounds kinda cool-) is the amazing @charliemwrites, specifically a little drabble (unedited as always), based off of their Keeper/Kept AU. Not thier most recent stuff- (I think it’s Neighbor Johnny or the Woof Woof series-) You know what? Just- Here. Everything they write is gold <3

Anyhow, i present: Domesticity and Devotion

“Oh to be a wild bird…”

You sigh, chin in your palm as you leisurely stare out at the window.

“Or a stray cat.” You muse, watching as one of the kitties of the neighborhood walks along outside.

“Those fuckers have it good. No shitty job. No rent to pay. Just free pets and wandering the world… and if someone’s being a dick they can hiss and bite all they want.”

You hum, reaching for your drink and sipping on it leisurely.

“I don’t think I could survive in the wild though.”

You say after a moment, realizing how you’re cuddled up in your blanket and sipping on your wendy’s lemonade, the TV playing some random comfort show and your laptop open as you halfheartedly play Papa's freezeria.

“Can barley survive in domesticity.” You mumble, glancing towards the envelope on the kitchen counter that you got this morning about a rent increase.

You sigh.

“Maybe in my next life i’ll be lucky enough to be reborn as some rich white ladies cat. Those fuckers are livin’ better than me that’s for sure.”

————

This is not what you meant.

When you wistfully wished to never have to step foot into the capitalist hellscape that was life again- that was not an open invitation for you to be whisked away against your will.

Apparently though, the 6 foot giant of a military man named Simion Riley, heard it as one.

Because now here you were, pampered and cared for like a bloody sugar baby or pure breed persian cat. Kept at some random location and fed and groomed and meticulously attended too.

All against your will, mind you.

However it’s hard to complain because well- you’re living life good. This realization, of just how good you have it- hits you when you feel yourself getting genuinely angry at the shitty romance novel you were reading.

The Male lead was treating the MC like shit- and the MC was letting him get away with it!

You feel your face physically grimace. To calm yourself down (because you are getting genuinely heated when she lets him shove her to the damn floor over asking him for a drink-), you set your i-pad down.

(It had been a gift; something sort of like a kindle, where you could only read books and listen to music. You weren’t sure what Simon did to it exactly- but it wasn’t just published books you had access too, comics, original works, poetry, you could get all sorts of reading stuff on here.)

“This mother fucker-“

You mumble to yourself in disbelief, shaking your head before huffing and picking the device back up. You’re close to cheering as you read the MC’s internal dialogue about wanting to bite his ass- (Truely an MC after your own heart- they were one of the main reasons you were still reading this shitshow-)

And yet, what does the main character do?

They get the drink for themselves and then let him snatch it from their hand and down it.

Nope. You’re fucking done. You’re fumin’ now, irrationally angry on the MC’s behalf because they’ve been putting up with this guy for fifteen chapters now.

The audacity of men- oh my god. You can’t believe this guy.

“Who does he think he is?!”

You grumble and then just for your own purposes you yell—

“Simon!”

Predictably he is at your side in a moment, dropping everything for you.

You have your arms crossed, as you say, “Go get me a drink.”

He tilts his head slightly, eyes crinkled just a tad at your strange mood but doesn’t deny the order. Simply asks,

“Cold or hot?”

“Cold.”

And with that he’s gone, returning with a fresh glass of ice cold lemonade, complete with a little lemon slice on the rim of the glass. You sip it, set it aside and cross your leg, tapping your forehead.

“Give me a kiss.”

He doesn’t hesitate for a moment, gently kissing your forehead.

“Kneel.”

His eyes are crinkled now with a bit of amusement, but he drops to his knees easy. Gently holding onto your soft thighs. (Always so gentle with you.)

“Course, pretty.”

He mumbles low, head tilted up to you in a question, “Need me to take care of you?”

You hum, absentmindedly messing with his hair and ignoring the way the question sends a slow pool of warmth into your tummy.

“No.”

It’s decisive. You’re practically preening with satisfaction at his actions.

“You can go now.” You say and like that, he gets up. Not a complaint on his lips even when you notice he’s got a raging boner.

“Wait!”

You call and he pauses, looking at you with a questioning hum.

“Kiss me again.”

And he does so, this time a soft gentle kiss on your lips. When he pulls away he mumbles an ever softer-

“Dinner will be ready in 10.”

You nod and pick up your tablet with satisfaction curling low in your gut. (For the duration of your reading all you can think about is how Simion would never.)

————

“And another thing-!”

Simion is absentmindedly (as absentmindedly as Simion of all people can get anyway-) rubbing circles into your back as you rant. You’re sat in his lap, coaxed into sitting there after he asked about your day.

So obviously you started to babble about the book you were reading, which turned into a whole rant session about how stupid the Male lead was.

“That stupid idiot- that moron- you wanna know what he does simion?”

He knows it’s a rhetorical question. You’re gonna tell him anyway. Still he hums to show he’s still listening.

“This bastard shoves them into the ground. To the ground! Can you believe the it?”

He shakes his head lightly with a tsk.

“Exactly. God and then when they get the drink he has the audacity to snatch it from their hand and down it in one gulp before they can even say anything.”

You shake your head, so far into your little rant you don’t realize how much you’ve made yourself comfortable. Sitting in his lap fully, ranting to him like he’s an old friend. Your tongue is loose with comfort right now. And that must be what possessed you to say—

“Me personally? I could never. If you ever pulled that shit— God i don’t even know what i’d do but it would not be pretty

You close your eyes with a nod to yourself at your own words. Not aware of the way Simon’s eyes seem to soften. Not until he gently kisses the top of your head.

“Never.”

He says it so quietly you almost miss it. (Feverintly. Reverently. Like the very idea is absurd.)

“If i ever do something like that you run and break into my gun cabinet and bloody shoot me.”

And god his voice- he’s 100 percent fucking serious. Suddenly you feel warm and small in his lap, utterly tiny compared to the sheer size of his devotion for you.

It’s all you can do to mumble out a weak.

“Good.”

And the rest of the night is spent with you reading the rest of the book together. When the MC finally is able to get rid of the Male Lead, it is a joyous occasion that ends up with her absolutely clocking the guy in the face with a champagne glass. Which then leads into a curious conversation with you and ghost about how much damage that would actually do.

It’s a good day.

[tiny-minecraft-rabbit]

Dr. Blaze, like all good supervillains, has a nemesis. One that he hates, of course. The Canary is always meddling in his plans to be evil after all! Supervillains don't like their nemeses. Except, for some reason, no one believes him that he despies the guy! Sure the Canary takes him seriously when no one else does and laughs at his jokes and has these bright brown eyes that light up when he figures out how to escape Tango's traps and… and Tango might, just maybe, like the Canary more than he thought. Well, now he has a new problem: confessing those feelings.

Participated in @mcytrecursive event and wrote this for @aistandardcherry. It was lovingly inspired by @onawhimsicot's Tangotek Evil Incorporated, and so if you haven't read Tangotek Evil Incorporated yet it is an absolute must!

[korovaoverlook]

Art based on my Star Wars fanfic, The Doll and The General! Middle-aged Ben sparring with his clone is not a recipe for a positive mental attitude (for either of them). Poor Sid looks like a walking corpse.

[faeriekit]

Quiet Respite (Masterpost) ❤🕸🕷

art (top) by @not-another-robin ❤🕷

❤🕸🕷🦇❤

(DCxMarvel/'Dark Matter-genre" fanfic)

"Cassandra Cain is Batgirl. Cass is a newly adopted sister. Cass is a dancer. Cass has found a spider. What is to be done with the spider stands to be seen."

(AKA a sweeping attempt by the author to write something of a slowburn romance between Cass Cain and Peter Parker. Hits every trope under the sun and then some.)

Warnings for: Romance | Author blows up the MCU | Lack of regard for any canon timeline, really | Identity Tomfoolery | Non-Deaf author writes about/around ASL | Mentions of Injury | References to Homelessness

❤🦇🕸🕷❤

Find the entire fic here on AO3 (art included)

Chapter list:

1 ❤ 2 ❤ 3 ❤ 4 ❤ 5 ❤ 6 ❤ 7 ❤ 8 ❤ 9 ❤ 10 ❤ 11 ❤ 12 ❤ 13 ❤ 14 ❤ 15 ❤ 16 ❤ 17 ❤ 18 ❤ 19 ❤ 20 ❤ 21 ❤ 22 ❤ 23 ❤ 24 ❤ 25 ❤

Enjoy!

❤🦇🕸🕷❤

[oblonger]

@sincerely-sofie

I wanted to write something that somehow involved the mortal mentioned in this post for a while. I personally prefer writing wholesome and angsty feels over action, so I feel like this needs a second draft. But I don't feel passionate enough about this specific one-shot to do so. Anyway, here you go!

Darkrai had won

Darkrai had obtained everything he'd ever wanted. Everyone in this world and beyond were recieving what they deserved...

Yet he was still unsatisfied.

Darkrai told Dialga, a pitiful legend at his beck and call, to allow time to flow through him, and only him.

Darkrai felt his heart began beating again. Breath entered his lungs. He could now move once more. He rose from his throne and traveled down the corridor. He could simply visit her nightmares whenever he wanted, but the sight of her true body filled him with glee.

The silence was wonderful, Darkrai looked through the massive window he had dug into this cave wall. Taking in the breathtaking scenery of a pitch black night sky. The few pokemon in view, locked in place mid fight. No doubt suffering the way he wanted them to.

Darkrai entered the dungeon he had been making his way towards. Chained to the wall, and asleep in a breathless nightmare, was Cresselia.

Well, not quite Cresselia. To be precise, it was the Audino that he brought with him when he struck her down. He never bothered to remember the Audino's name. He simply called her Cresselia as a symbol of regret, for ending the true Cresselia's life in a fit of shortsightedness.

Darkrai smiled as he entered into Cresselia's nightmare.

"Good evening Cresselia." Darkrai announced upon entering her dream, turning it from whatever endless torture he had put her in last time, into a completely featureless void. He was the only thing besides her in here.

The Audino uncurled from the fetal position and groveled at his feet. Muttering apologies and begging him not to hurt her.

Pointless.

"I'm hurt Cresselia. I put in so much effort into making the perfect nightmare for you... and THIS is the gratitude I recieve?"

Darkrai snapped his fingers and an explosion went off from directly beneath her. Launching her a fair distance from him, landing on her back. She continued to spout apologies as she looked at him with sorrow, agony and terror.

What a wonderful look for her.

"Apology accepted. Cresselia." Darkrai taunted.

The Audino flopped onto her belly, facing away from him. quietly bawling her eyes out.

"I have done quite a lot of pondering as of late Cresselia. And I wanted to get your input." She continued to cry. Hoping her lack of response would get him to leave her alone.

She knew it wouldn't, he knew that she knew that. But seeing her utterly pathetic attempts at resisting filled Darkrai with joy.

"Tell me Cresselia." Darkrai wickedly grinned. "Do you have a fear of blood?"

The Audino flinched. She turned her head back to face him.

Darkrai's smile widened. "I suppose that is a yes then, hmm?"

Darkrai used his powers over this realm to make his claws as jagged as rotting, rusted metal, and serrated as a Sharpedo's teeth. Cresselia fell from her side onto her back, and tried to crawl away while facing him. Once more asking for forgiveness and for him to not hurt her, or some other nonsense.

Darkrai used his powers to drag Cresselia closer to him. He didn't need to approach her when watching her efforts to escape in vain was so much more entertaining.

Once she was within range, she stopped crawling. Holding her arms up to her face to try and shield it.

"Oh come now Cresselia." Darkrai said in a mockingly upbeat tone. "You don't believe I shall go through all of this effort, and not let you see the fruits of my labor?" Darkrai rose a hand, and her along with it. Perfectly exposing her stomach to him, with her head locked into position to force her to watch. Her eyes being prevented from shutting.

She was crying hysterically as he raised his arm to give her comeuppance.

He began his first slash when he suddenly stopped, right before his claw reached her.

Something felt... off.

It felt like Darkrai's skin was prickling across his body. Was she trying to fight back with her powers? No. She stopped trying to use her abilities decades ago.

Darkrai was staring off into the distance. Trying to figure out why this prickling feeling was so familiar to him.

The feeling got worse, and suddenly he felt the presence of another legend near his body.

Impossible, he killed or sealed all of the problematic ones away...

Then, Darkrai remembered where he felt this feeling before. It was Celebi. But how? How did she escape her imprisonment!?

Darkrai left Cresselia's dream, not even bothering to begin a new nightmare.

His eyes shot open and he briskly turned around, just quick enough to register that there was a Focus Punch mere inches from his face.

He didn't have time to react.

The attack connected. Launching him into the wall above Cresselia. Intense waves of pain echoing through his body multiple times. The wind being knocked out of him. Darkrai fell to the ground, gasping for air. Had he been a bit weaker it would have KO'd him instantly. It had been several decades since he'd last felt pain, that his tolerance for it was at its minimum

He looked up, expecting to see Celebi with some mortal. A foolish ploy to try and usurp him.

It wasn't Celebi.

Nor was it a random mortal.

It was Grovyle.

But... it couldn't be.

He knows it cant be him because he killed Grovyle personally.

The passage of time closed behind him, the lack of blinding light allowing Darkrai to better see his assailant.

It was Grovyle. But he was different. The leaf atop his head was incredibly long, dragging across the floor. The seeds that Sceptiles have on their backs were on his. His skin slowly shifted between lighter and darker shades of green.

But what made Darkrai realize who this was, was seeing the two antenna atop his head.

The antennae of a Celebi.

Darkrai quickly stood himself up and launched forward a volley of Dark Void. He wasn't taking any chances.

Grovyle didn't even move as his fist began glowing again, charging another Focus Punch. The Dark Void opened beneath him and pulsed waves of energy into him. Grovyle stumbled forward a bit before opening his mouth and biting down on something kept within.

Darkrai recognized the distinct crunch that it made.

A Chesto berry.

Before Darkrai could hide in the shadows, Grovyle bolted forward, eyes burning with a rage that far surpassed his own, and punched Darkrai hard in the side of his stomach launching him across the room and into the side wall. Darkrai coughed blood onto the floor. He could feel his consciousness slipping.

He wasn't going to lose this fight. HE DESERVES TO HAVE THIS!

Darkrai sunk into the shadows. The darkness of the room allowing him to reappear wherever he desires.

Darkrai waited for his chance. He kept himself in the shadows, searching for an opening.

Grovyle's expression didn't change, but his posture straightened. His shoulders became slack.

Darkrai knew what he was trying to do. He couldn't be hasty. As much as he wanted to gore him right now.

Grovyle stepped towards Cresselia and with a quick slash of his leaves, broke the chains that were more symbolic than functional.

Despite that, Darkrai's wrath surged. How DARE he try and save her!

And what a fool he was! Because now that he's distracted, he can strike!

Darkrai shot out from one of the walls behind him, preparing a shadow claw. Although his pain tolerance was low, he was nothing if not more powerful, one clean strike and this fool will be KO'd, allowing him to seal him away! All of his efforts in vain! He will be trapped forever! Just like this world's Celebi!! He'd won!!! HE HAD-

Darkrai felt true fear for the first time ever, when Grovyle locked eyes with him, as he moved his head very slightly to dodge the attack. Darkrai's claw missing his unblinking eyes by a hair's breadth.

Darkrai's last waking moments were of watching Grovyle unleash an X-scissor on him.

Darkrai awoke upon his throne. Everything hurt. Grovyle was crouched some distance away, rummaging through his satchel.

Not only had he bested him in combat, but he had also taken him out of the prison, and put him on his throne... LIKE SOME SORT OF TOY!!!

Darkrai launched forward, claws ready to splay this interloper's insides across the room.

Grovyle stood up straight, closing his satchel with no urgency whatsoever. And then he ducked under Darkrai's assault. His arm shot forward and grabbed Darkrai's forehead.

In an instant, Darkrai's entire body filled with an unimaginable pain. Darkrai fell upon his back and howled in torment. It felt like every fiber of his being was being burned, frozen, electrocuted and stabbed all at once.

He could see Grovyle staring at him with an intense anger... and what seemed to be pity.

The pain was too intense. It was bad enough that he hadn't felt pain in so long that he could only barely handle his body aching from the previous fight.

Once again, Darkrai passed out.

Darkrai awoke once more in the same spot he'd been in. The pain throughout his body having been dulled, except for his head, where it felt like it had been split in half.

Darkrai tried to lift an arm, but something was holding him down. Even his eyes felt sluggish. He looked around to see grovyle standing some distance off with his back towards him. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see a different pokemon, frozen in place. Too far for him to make out.

Grovyle moved his arm to drop a used, grey TM onto the ground. Making sure it was clearly visible to Darkrai.

"You know. My plan was to curse you with everlasting pain, and then seal you away." Grovyle suddenly broke the silence. His voice dripping with hatred. "So that way, you would suffer for the rest of eternity..."

"... But I realized something." Grovyle turned to look at him. His eyes burning with a fury unmatched. "I'm too nice for that."

Grovyle slowly began taking steps towards him. "At some point, I would feel guilty for doing that to you. No matter how much you deserve it." Darkrai wanted to attack him, but only his eyes were capable of movement.

It dawned on him what Grovyle had done, once he realized that his heart only beat twice since he'd woke up.

Darkrai tried to reach out to Dialga, demanding that he needn't any precision, that he could let time flow freely as long as Darkrai can move again.

... But there was no response.

"At that point, I would just come back and finish the job."

Grovyle crouched down on one knee and lowered his head to look at Darkrai.

"Death is far too merciful for you... But I'm a merciful guy."

Grovyle lifted a hand. a crackling orb of yellow-white energy formed just above it.

Hyper Beam.

Grovyle moved his hand and held the orb just above Darkrai's head. Right over where he had cursed him.

Darkrai's eyes stared straight into Grovyle, he used his psychic powers to speak with him.

"I hope everyone you ever love perishes."

Grovyle gave a disgusted chuckle.

"Too late."

Faster than an instant, Darkrai was dead.

[bones-of-a-rabbit]

So…

I may or may not be obsessed with your Afton Virus AU, and so I may or may not have made a whole oneshot about it.

This story follows the point of view of a legal department head working for Fazbear Entertainment and their

encounter with a certain individual and their two animatronic friends.

Includes:

Descriptions of torture, not too explicit talk about gore though, other than a few offhanded mentions of blood. Still, a little touchy for people who might be squeamish.

PS: Y/N is 100% inspired by Sonya Falsworth from Secret Invasion. Her witty dialogue masking a total psychopath is a perfect match for Y/N and you can’t tell me otherwise.

Expect more. (If I have the motivation)

From a very, very sleep-deprived amateur writer.

—————————————————————

“Ah, you’re finally awake! Was wondering when you’d wake up.”

A voice called out from your blurry vision, your eyes were bombarded by bright fluorescent lights. Your shirt was soggy, in fact all of you were soggy. Where the hell were you?

“Who are you?”

The mysterious figure in front of you chuckled, standing up from their metal foldable chair. You got a better look at them, dressed in a black polo shirt with the Fazbear Entertainment branding pasted on.

Mechanics Supervisor

You looked at their hands, covered by gloves. They were twitching. They held an almost uncanny smile, the hat they were wearing covering up their eyes, not letting you truly see their full face.

“You seriously don’t remember me? Seriously?”

The figure chuckled again, their tone mocking and brimming with psychopathic enthusiasm. They returned to their seat.

“Well, just to jog your memory I’m the person who had their hands mangled a year ago thanks to your shitshow of a company!”

Oh, them.

You remember that case well, one of the worse you’ve seen. Sure, worse incidents had happened before but what made this one so bad was that unlike the others, the victim was still alive, and capable of suing.

Thank god they didn’t, all the bad press was already overwhelming for the PR department. One lawsuit was all it would have taken to bring that whole place down to the ground.

In addition, you got a suitable promotion for helping handle that case while causing minimum damages to the company’s image.

You are brought out of your trip down memory lane however, by another piece of dialogue from the person in front of you.

“Now, you’re probably wondering what you’re doing here. You see those wires clipped to your chair?”

You looked down, the shaky wooden chair you were sitting on was damp as well. In addition, the blue plastic wires were there, as promised.

“Those are used to charge the animatronics if the charging booths aren’t working. In fact, over there you’ll see my two lovely boys operating the emergency battery that goes along side it.”

You turned to your left, seeing the aforementioned battery, bright red with a Freddy logo in the middle, sitting on a toppled filing cabinet being used as a makeshift table.

The aforementioned “two lovely boys” were to your surprise, the daycare attendants that you remember very vividly having to settle a case involving dead children around. What the hell were they doing here?

“Now, I’m going to ask you a few questions regarding the security system of the main Fazbear office, and if you answer you get to live!”

You cough, your voice coming out rough and coarse.

“And if I don’t?”

“Well, then let’s just say that I didn’t splash you with water for no reason, ay?”

The figure pointed towards the daycare attendants, the two perking up like lost puppies and fiddling with a piece of machinery near the battery.

“How would you feel about 200 volts of electricity going through your veins? Not enough to kill you, but enough to leave you teetering on the edge.”

“…”

“As expected. Now, let me ask you, what are all the passcodes to all 30 doors that lead up to the CEO’s office?”

“…”

“I’d suggest talking before I make you see hell itself. Most people would agree with me I’d think, well at least the smart ones. You a smart one?”

“…”

“Alright, didn’t think so. Buttercup?”

You turn to your left, the sun-themed daycare attendant eagerly pressing on a button on the machinery, before you knew it…

—————————————————————

Your body was steaming.

Your nerves burned.

You are coughing blood.

Your breathing was heavy.

Your heart beat so fast, it felt like it was going the speed of light.

“Now, you willing to talk now?”

You coughed, droplets of blood leaving your mouth and your throat being in incredible pain.

“Fuck… off.”

“Well then, that was rude.”

The figure got off their chair, clapping their hands. The daycare attendants walked over cheerfully, like puppies being called over by their owner.

“Buttercup, blackbird, could you handle our guest?”

The two animatronics enthusiastically nodded in unison.

“Sure thing, sunshine!”

“We’ll do our best, starlight.”

“I knew I could count on you two.”

With a kiss to both of them, the figure left the room, flipping off the lights on their way out. Leaving you alone with two animatronics that had super-human strength, in the dark.

Their vivid fluorescent purple eyes stared into your soul, acting as the only light source in the room and shining a purple-tinted light onto your face. They raised their hands, full with tools likely stolen from parts and service.

Was that a drill?

—————————————————————

ANON I LOVE YOU PLS MARRY MEEEEEEEEE

I LOVELOVELOVE THISSS AUGH LOVE LOVE LOVE AFTON'D READER!!! AND THEIR TWO LOVELY BOYS AAAAAAA IM DEAD THEYRE TOO CUTE YOUR HONOR

afton reader, a horrible lil monster of a person, killing ppl on the regular: calls Sun and Moon cute names me:

[theromaboo]

The first chapter of My Immortal, but instead of Ebony Dark'ness Dementia Raven Way, it's Julius Caesar!

CHapter 1.

AN: Special thankz 2 my bf (maybe in that way??) ciCero, OPtimatesAreBest666SPQR 4 helpin me wif da story nd speling. U ROK.

Hi my name is G’aius Ju’lius Caes’ar and I used to have thick, lusty, toucheble hair of unknown color (haha quirky am i rite?) and inky black eyes like black orbs. I’m not related to M. Tullius Cicero but I wish I was because he’s a major fucking hottie (AN: If u dont know who he is get da hell out of here). I’m from like 50 BC but my teeth are straight and white. I have pale white skin. I'm also a dictater in perpetuum but not in the dysyopian YA novel way. I also became a god after I was stabbed (lolzz spoiler alurt) I wear a loose girdle and Sulla called me an ‘ill-girted boy’. I did a really cool thing recently (u know, Gaul thingz) and I’m currently dressing to flex about it. For example today I was wearing a laurel wreath and a toga picta and a tunica palmata. I was walking through Rome. It was not the Ides of March, which I was very happy about. A lot of plebs stared at me. I put up my middle finger at them.

“Hey Caes’ar!!” shouted a voice. I looked up… it was Marcus Junius Brutus!

“What’s up Brutus?” I asked.

“Nothing.” he said shyly.

But then, I heard my friends call me and I had to go away.

AN: IS it good? PLZ tell me plebzz.

[shadow-pixelle]

OK SO!!!! I CAN NOW LEGALLY SCREAM ABOUT THIS.

This. This is Sing Me Northward. It's a prompt fill by @kalicofox for the Insert Title Here 2024 event. Normally she'd be posting this herself but she's on an internet break so I'm kinda doing it, but I'm also doing it because IT IS BASED ON BRAIDED FATES.

For those of you that don't know what Braided Fates is, it's my DCxDP AU. Yeah my bestie wrote her prompt fill based on my fic. I am treasuring this fic. I am holding it gently like hamburger. I am in awe.

So please go read this. I would really appreciate it if everyone just sent all the love bombs to Kali over this, because I can only leave one Kudo and need it to have like, a billion. She let me look over it before posting to check for accuracy to the universe, so you know it's good at in-universe styling. Just. Kali writes so much good stuff and this is a treasure and a gift, so I am going to shill the hell out of it.

Thank you for listening.

[museqmeg]

*sobbing* @chaoticbuka wrote a fic of my vashmeryl fic series, “Reporter’s Notes.” It is absolutely wonderful and fits in perfectly with my fics. Go show it the love it deserves! It features this cool guy, the one and only Nicholas D. Wolfwood!

[corundumb]

Credit goes to @head-in-the-icloud for the au and characters. Nova is my own character. I hope you guys like it 😁

✨🌟💎🔮🃏🃏

The Royal Jesters Fanfic- Seamstress Nova

The castle is magical, as are the residents. Well, not ALL of them at least. But in Novas mind they all are, each one is nothing she’s seen before. Even the ones that seem like clones visually have such personalities. In place of flesh there’s metal and what she assumes is magic, visually unique it was crazy.

But now it’s her new normal. Having spent a few years of her life here, she’s come to know them relatively well. The Princes love to expend their energy and stress by playing as Fools, playing pranks on each other and those around them. As much as they can be annoying it’s endearing. She thought something was up when Prince Sun spent more time in her workshop, suddenly finding some fabrics and accessories very interesting. Spending a day or so flipping through sample books she’s collected throughout her professional travels. Asking when she'll head out again.

Nova kept them categorized by region, shop, and then by colors, textures, and patterns. These books are more like mini suitcases with canvas as pages in place of paper, samples of previous fabrics she’s purchased in the past. Nova took pride in her collection, even if just to look at they’re wonderful reminders of previous designs.

Her bells collection, however, she felt it almost necessary to ban him from. The constant jingling to test which ones sounded perfect got on her nerves a little, but save for that one exception it was entertaining to watch him select the fabrics and ask her so many questions. When she asked him of his sudden interest in fabric, he was being uncharacteristically vague and dismissive. She guessed it was two things, something gold and shades of reddish orange, something azure and indigo. Veeery sneaky, Prince Sun.

She recognized the fabrics immediately as they donned their new apparel. They were almost unrecognizable with the masks, the Princes looked great as Jesters! Their antics made her laugh more, even when she became a target for a little while. The number of times one or both of her braids were now ‘mustaches’ for themselves or on her was a fast way to pull her attention from work. Under normal circumstances touching her hair would be off limits but she gave them permission if their hands were clean. Despite it not being her place, she saw them as family. This doesn't mean she enjoys EVERY prank or joke, she could do without the pies in her face.

When she first met Gaiya, she was more intimidated than she was by Eclipse. Purely from height and status, and staring into her soul spooked her for sure with those big eyes. But the initial fear did not stop her from admiring the grace she carried, and instantly knew she would be hardest to design for but thrilled with the challenges. When the Queen had time to review designs and fabrics she wanted she enjoyed the most, many varieties of snacks and teas available each time.

Eclipse…

Nova respected Neptune a great deal, a powerful wizard in his own level. Having to maintain and upkeep the knowledge required takes a lot of time. She's spoken with him only a few times, primarily for basic defense spells and the benefits of enchanting threads and fabrics for certain occasions.

During her travels to retrieve orders of fabrics, jewelry, and shop on her own accord for other necessities for her job she took guarding the goods and the money she traveled with extremely seriously. To the point where in between her travels, and main job as a tailor, she kept up her abilities by training with Eclipse when possible, or basic defense spells with Neptune. She has very little in magical capability and is only so strong physically. But what most don't know about her is why she keeps her gloves on 90% of the time.

From her fingertips thin but very strong wires of light move from her control. It's very dangerous mid to close range, and she has used it for mobility. Those who don't notice the light reflecting parts of the wires may believe she's floating or flying. But most fights she partakes in end up with body parts strewn about, the ground and herself covered in blood. It's very messy. Considering the wires can cut chunks out of wagons and armored personnel with relative ease, she's comfortable traveling on her own. But this does not mean she enjoys any bloodshed, she merely wishes to not be a burden in a kingdom of animatronics as a human.

The wires do have their benefits outside of battle, she's able to move heavy rolls of fabrics with ease on her own. But she must remain mindful of their sharpness. She'll regularly use them on herself to work on tailoring for the Queen directly, or to Eclipse when she's had enough making him more cloaks than he can burn through and gives him a piece of her mind face to face. His enjoyment of this just angers her more.

[goodday-goodmorn]

Alright! Starting this shitshow of a blog off strong with a platonic yandere Bruce Wayne fic!

Heavily inspired by- @blughxreader and their batman stuff! Go check ‘em out- (specifically the one with poor reader and the rooftop escape, those are my fav’s <3)

———————————————-

Also inspired by this qoute:

'They can't do that,' she said finally. 'It's the one thing they can't do. They can make you say anything -- anything -- but they can't make you believe it. They can't get inside you.' (Gorge Orwells, 1984)

“You know, i’m pretty sure that you helping me right now would be going against natural selection.”

Bruce sent you a look, something dark in his eyes. You knew it was coming however and shamelessly avoided looking at him for that exact reason. Under normal circumstances you wouldn’t have said that, he never was one for jabs or jokes that hinted in any way about you dying.

“You’re kind of a mother hen ya know that? I mean, i knew before but this is really solidifying it ya know?”

It was a deflection and you both knew it, usally Bruce wouldn’t let you get away with those. But once again, these were not the usual circumstances. Truth be told he was probably just glad you were talking again, that you had some life back in your eyes, albeit only a small amount.

“Your soup is getting cold.”

Ah damn it. You were hoping he wouldn’t notice. A stupid hope, consdiering he notices fucking everything.

“So it is.”

…

A sigh, “Kid, you need to eat.” You knew what it meant. It was a silent question, ‘are we gonna do this the easy way or the hard way?’, because either way, you would be eating.

You swallowed, truth be told, you didn’t have the motivation to eat. Nor the appetite, but the alternative was him talking you through every bite and you really didn’t want that right now.

So with a sigh of your own you picked up the spoon, at least you didn’t have to cook anything, all you had to do was eat what was in front of you. You could do that. Barely any effort. It was simple.

So simple.

The spoon stays in the bowl, your hand resting on it as you stare at the soup.

It’s delicious, you know it is, Alfred's food always is, and he’d made one of your favorites too. Something nice and hearty so you would be full for a while and wouldn’t have to go through the effort of eating again too soon.

Bruce was watching you when you looked up, ever watchful, ever observant, waiting to see if he had to intervene.

You swallowed, you never liked it when he stared too hard. His gaze was always so intense. With heavy limbs, you scoop a spoonful of soup and start eating.

Bruce’s gaze softens and he lets out a soft, “Thank you.” He ruffles your hair and you don’t have the will to stop yourself from leaning into it right now.

Give and take, give and take…

You eat in silence, you’re propped up on some pillows on the bed, Bruce is sitting next to the bed on a chair.

Maybe it had been a stupid idea to ask for him, a very stupid idea but at the time you couldn’t help it. You couldn’t deal with the boy’s clinging, not like this. Not when you woke up feeling like anything but a person.

See, a few hours ago, you woke up and felt fatigued, and apathetic. Two oncoming signs of a depressive episode.

It only got worse as the day went on, you tried to be alright- you really did but, you just couldn’t do it. This whole act of playing house with the Wayne’s was already tiring enough, but for your own sanity you had to keep it up.

After all, if you fought hard against all their afflictions they would only dig their heels in and make your situation a lot worse so- you always figured from the beginning it was better to give in early.

At least, on the surface anyway. Not resist their affections, hell you hadn't even once pulled any sort of escape attempt, or tried anything. You’d barely even argued either.

Your lack of resistance was met with open arms and eagerness. Of course- they knew you were only pretending, that you didn’t view them as family, but they knew it was only a matter of time until you came around.

After all, if you act for something long enough, your brain will eventually start to believe it.

Alas, you were a stubborn little shit, and giving in voluntarily had only seemed to help you keep up this mentality longer.

Until this morning anyway.

When you woke up, feeling like shit and simply couldn’t deal with playing house with your ‘brothers’. So, in your moment of weakness, when you didn’t want to do anything or let them drag you around or cuddle or watch movies, you had done something rather unexpected.

Which of course, was to simply shut down.

They were worried as shit, but when they finally did manage to get you to talk, your shaky whisper of, “I want dad.” -Had been shocking, worrying and exciting all at once.

(It had also been a touch too real, your voice had sounded so small, so far away, and in that moment you really did just want the comforting presence of Bruce.)

So now you were here, so deep into the throws of not being a person you barely felt like moving; sitting in your bed with none other than Bruce Wayne by your bedside, stroking your hair lovingly.

You were done with the soup now, as much as you could eat anyway, before Bruce could even say anything you reasoned with him, “I’ll eat more later. Promise.”

Promises held a lot of weight here. Something practically unbreakable, Especially with Bruce. Especially with you, maybe that’s just because you liked when they had weight. It was nice; To have a concrete thing to swear on that you knew would not be broken.

Bruce probably used them to build trust in his words or something, you didn’t know, and quite frankly you didn’t care right now because well- you got to use them too so…

He thinks for a moment, and then nods, agreeing easily, “Okay.” And with that he takes the bowl from you. He’s… he’s rather agreeable right now, usually he would confirm or try and fight you more on that.

Maybe he was being more lenient because you willingly came to him? Or because you were being open right now, or maybe because he felt bad for what you were going through or-

Gods you don’t have enough energy to ponder this.

You nod and lay back down, he guides you down most of the way. Now you’re back like before, lying in bed, cheek smushed against your pillow, starting at him blankly.

You break the silence as he pulls the blanket over you.

“What type of bird do you think everyone would be?”

He looks back to you, a small upturn of his lips and eyes crinkled slightly in an amused manner. “Why do you ask?”

You shrug, “Bored.”

A partial truth. In reality you were thinking about all that poetic shit about you being like a bird in a fancy golden cage. A very very well cared for bird with access to some deep fucking pockets but you know, still in a cage. Even if the cage is real fancy and has amazing food, even better wifi, and a home movie theater.

(You think Bruce would let you install an indoor pool? Or a jacuzzi. …He probably would. You should ask sometime, ah- you’re getting off track here.)

So anyway- fancy bird poems and then you started thinking about what type of bird you would be and then it kinda spiraled from there.

“Hm. Well, that depends, who do you wanna start with?”

“Mmm… Alfred, cause i think he’s the easiest.”

A little amused quirk of his brow, “What bird is he then?”

“Penguin. Cause he’s always dressed all fancy, and penguins got that sleek fancy vibe about them. They are kinda short for Alfred though…”

Bruce nods, as if taking your words into consideration, “Emperor penguin then. They’re the biggest penguin species.”

Contuiting on just to have something to blabber about you confidently say, “Jason is an emu.”

——————

After a very engaging deep dive into what types of birds everyone was-

(Tim was a woodpecker on account of all the times you’ve seen him slam his head into his desk while working; Dick was an ostrich because if Jason was an Emu then those two had to match; Cassandra got the honor of being a crow; Damien was a kinglet, a ruby crowned kinglet, purely because they are small and for some reason you only recall pictures of seeing those bird look annoyed, Bruce was a harpy eagle because they look big and grumpy, And finally you were a pigeon.)

-You were now half asleep as Bruce read to you like you were a little kid.

It was… nice. Like all the other times you were forced to hang out with the Wayne family. (Only this time you hadn’t been forced, you had called for him.) Nice but with that ever present little weight in the back of your mind, reminding you of just how much these people had taken from you.

Right now though, that little weight was… it was a lot easier to ignore.

You let Bruce’s calming voice wash over you, you were barely listening at this point but he paid no kind to your lack of attention.

This was nice.

No one had ever taken care of you when you went into one of your episodes before. Usually you had to suck it up and work yourself up to go get some food and water before laying in bed until the feeling went away.

It was a terrible feeling, a staggering sensation just on the edge of emptiness. But not there enough for you to not feel anything, it was almost as if everything was muted. All sensations dull, your thoughts weren't but you were apathetic to them.

In short, it sucked. Majorly.

But now, here you were, tucked into bed, fed a warm hearty meal, and being read to with such tenderness and care.

You didn’t even notice that your eyes started to water. But Bruce did. He noticed everything.

Gently, so gently, he wiped away the tear about to fall from your eye. His own were soft as they stared at you. Soft and filled with a look you couldn’t decipher, a look you didn’t want to decipher because the closest thing you could even begin to compare it to was- …was love.

Love.

Fuck- love.

You knew there was something wrong with this family, of course you did- they kidnapped you for pete’s sake, but- but they also had been unconditionally kind to you didn’t they?

You… You couldn’t-

“-do this anymore.”

Your voice was soft, just barely above a whisper. A quiet confession.

‘I can’t do this anymore.’

Bruce sighed, his voice level, but quiet, fitting of the atmosphere. “You don’t have to, it’ll be so much easier if you just give in kiddo.”

He cupped your face in his hand. His own skin was scarred, rough, callous, and yet he held you with such care. It was almost reverent. He gazed at you with an almost sad look, as if your passive struggle hurt you more than him.

(It probably did. He didn’t have anything to worry about after all, you would break eventually. You could only keep telling yourself this was pretend for so long.)

“…”

Stubborn. Always so stubborn in the most muted way; silence. You weren't one to make large outbursts, or outwardly resist, but even so, passive stubbornness. It was something Bruce was fond of; how resilient you were.

You look away from his gaze, not meeting his eyes. His eyes, always so intense, always so much behind those icy blue scaleras.

“Is it-“ You start, the chemical imbalance in your brain making you honest right now.

You realize suddenly that this is the first real conversation you’ve had in months. There was no keeping up the act here. No holding your tongue or dancing with your words, no overthinking about what response would make you the perfect sibling, the perfect child. No catering, no push and pull of deciding how much of you you want to put into your words.

This was honest. The most honest you’ve been since you were kidnapped.

Bruce tilts his head slightly, patiently waiting for you to continue. He could sense a breakthrough, and he always did know when it was better to hold his tongue.

“…Is it worth it?” You say, eyes filled with so much emotion simmering just under the surface.

Bruce has a good idea as to what you’re asking. He knows you. Knows the way you think, the way you come to conclusions, your speech patterns, he knows you well.

(And yet it’s not nearly as much as he wants to. He wants to know more, to know everything, he wants for you to share such details about yourself willingly. He wants you to come to him after a rough day and listen to you rant. He wants to hear you laugh as you discover a new interest. He wants-)

“Yes.”

He strokes your hair gently, voice impossibly soft.

“It’s worth it.”

He answers your asked, unasked questions without a moment's hesitation.

‘Is it worth it to do all this? To keep me here against my will? To have me locked away like some canary in a gilded cage?’

“If it means you are safe and happy.”

“Is this really happiness?”

“It can be if you let it.”

“…”

“Don’t you like it here? You have a loving family, a nice house, you never have to worry about food or safety ever again.”

“…”

He cups your face with both his hands now, making you meet his gaze. Always intense. Too intense. You can’t handle the weight of his love for you.

Flicking your eyes to the wall you mumble, “There’s a saying. If you love something, let it go.” It’s weak, half hearted, you aren’t even sure you really mean it. (You aren’t even sure if you want to be let go anymore… you can’t imagine returning to a life before all this.)

(And Bruce knows this.)

You look back at him, meeting his eyes because you- you just- you know it’s stupid to ask but you can’t stop yourself-

“Why?”

You don’t need to explain any further. Bruce always seems to know what you’re asking.

‘Why me? Why do any of this? Why go through all the trouble just to keep some random kid?’

“Because I love you.”

He says it so easily. So simply, so calmly, as if it is undeniable fact, so once more you ask with more feeling this time,

“Why?”

You can’t stop yourself from leaning into his hold as he gently presses a kiss to your forehead. It’s childish, it’s stupid, it’s dumb, it’s humiliating-

He wipes away new forming tears, still cupping your face, “Because you’re precious.”

You choke out, “You don’t even know me.”

“So then, let me know you.”

Weakly, you shake your head, his hands fall from your face as you choke out, “I- I don’t- i can’t.”

“Hey, look at me sweetheart.”

You do, looking up at him and seeing only the love of a father. You don’t know how to handle such a sight. It’s foreign and it burns and yet, you are drawn in like a moth to a flame.

“We already love you kid. Nothing could change that.”

“You love the idea of me.” You counter, shuffling to prop yourself up a bit because laying down for this just seems too- too vulnerable.

He sighs, “If you think that then we seriously should have had this talk sooner.” He mentally tsk’s, he knows he’s been putting it off for so long because well- you’ve been good. And the family was happy and you were adjusting better than anyone expected you to.

It seems his negligence has resulting in this problem growing however.

He says your name, folds his hands and looks at you calmly, “-If the family wanted another child, then we would have gone to an orphanage.”

You swallow, he continues, “But, we didn’t want just any old person. We wanted you.”

You try to deny his words, no one’s ever wanted that before, and yet you can’t. Because it’s the only thing that even begins to make sense in your head. The only logical reason any of this would have happened.

You can’t deny it.

They love you.

They’re insane, they kidnapped you and yet- yet they- it doesn’t-

“-make sense.” You whisper, even though it’s the only thing that makes any semblance of sense.

“I know, you’re confused and not used to this and scared, but you’re the only thing holding yourself back. If you just let yourself believe we’re a family, you’ll feel so much better. This mindset is only hurting you sweetheart, you need to let it go.”

You look at him, eyes wet and so vulnerable as you whisper in a small voice, “I don’t know how to.”

And he pulls you close now, into a hug, it’s a bit of an awkward angle because he’s on a chair next to the bed and you’re on the bed, but you barely even notice with the way he’s pressing you to his chest. He’s warm as he wraps his arms around you and gently strokes your hair, consisting, comforting.

“We’ll be there every step of the way, start small.”

You shudder. The weight in the back of your mind is back in full force. He's asking you to give up your last bit of resistance. Your last act defiance. He’s asking you to give yourself up voluntarily. To fully endorse the idea that they are your family.

The worst part is, you don’t find yourself all that horrified with the idea.

If anything, you’re more scared that you’ll mess up somehow and piss them off with the real you and end up locked in a basement or something.

You don’t- you don’t know how to have a family. How to have siblings, a father- you don’t know how to interact or what to say and what to do- what if you fuck it up? what if you aren’t acting enough like a family and-

“-breathe with me kid. Com’on, in for 5.” He’s stroking your hair still, talking with you as he counts. You find yourself unconsciously following the deep rumble of his words.

“That’s it… hold for 4. One, two-“ It’s actually really nice to listen to him. Pressed so close like this you can hear the purr and rumble of his words in his chest. You can feel his chest expand with his own steadying breaths.

“Exhale for 6. One, two, three-“ You repeat his number sequence until you find your breathing is back to normal. Not that you had noticed how frantic it got to begin with.

Bruce hums, you feel the vibrations. You can hear his heartbeat like this. It’s nice, being held in his arms. “Good job kid, better?” His voice is a smooth rumble.

You nod weakly against him.

The two of you stay like that for a bit, him holding you as you listen to each other's heartbeats. You ground yourself with his and find your eyes drooping once more with sleep.

You make a noise; a hum of sorts and he sends you his own in return, soft, questioning.

“I-“ You clamp your mouth shut, thinking about what you’re about to say, thinking about if this is what you really want.

In the end you settle on this being the best choice, “I’ll try.” You swallow, mouth suddenly feeling dry, Bruce doesn’t give you any time to regret it though. He presses his face to your hair, affectionate.

“I’ll make the transition as comfortable as possible.” He promises against your hair, not being able to hide the smile in his voice.

You swallow again, starting up with slight nerves clear in your voice, “B-but i told you i’m not exactly very likable s-so don't regret it when i start speaking my mind and-“

That gets a laugh out of him, an amused kid huff, “You can’t possibly be any worse than Jason or Damein.”

You give a weak smile, “I dunno old man, think I could give ‘em a run for their money in bluntless.”

Bruce is smiling, you see it when he pulls away and looks down at you with such adoration. “We’ll have to see then.”

He’s happy, more than happy at finally hearing you be you. As much as he wants to keep you in his arms and listen to you for the rest of eternity however, that was a rather exhausting conversation. You look more than ready for some rest.

Gently, (always so gentle with you, as if you were somthing to be treasured), he laid you back down on the bed.

You let yourself be tucked in. You let him press a kiss to the top of your head. You let him turn off the lights.

“Um hey B- D-Dad?”

Bruce notices the slip up, but he lets it go. You’ve just made a lot of progress, and you’re clearly trying.

“Yes?”

“Do you uh- can i call you something else? Dad just feels really weird and kinda artificial at times so I was thinking maybe something more natural like maybe Pops? Or something like that i don’t know i just-“

“Of course you can.” He cuts off your nervous ramble easily, “You can call me whatever feels most natural, kid.”

You suck in a breath, soothed by his clam tone.

“O-okay. Cool… cool cool cool. Uh well then, could you maybe- maybe er- read to me? If that’s- if that’s alright..?”

Bruce was so proud of you. So much progress was made not too long ago and you were already trying to push yourself out of your comfort zone. You were trying so hard, bless you, you precious darling child.

He turned on the bedside lamp and took his seat on the chair once more, picking up the abandoned book.

Truth be told, Bruce was a busy man and he should be leaving because he has patrol in an hour, but he’ll be damned if he can’t carve out time for you. Especially when you asked to see him today.

(Especially when you were finally willing to view him as a father.)

“Would you like me to continue this one or do you want a different book?”

You jerkily nod, “That one’s fine.”

So, he begins to read once more, his voice a calming drawl that washes over you. Your eyelids grow heavier and heavier, and soon you are yawning and drifting off.

Once Bruce is sure you’re asleep he closes the book. With such a soft gaze he gently brushes the hair out of your face, smiling to himself. Then he gets up and turns the light off, walking out of your room and letting the door close with a soft click.

He isn’t surprised to find all of his boys camping out at the door.

He sighs, looking over the lot of them. From the looks of it they’ve been camping out here all day, or have been continuously coming back.

The only one who even has the decency to act sheepish that he’d been caught is Dick, and even then, he barely looks sorry.

Bruce shakes his head fondly at his boys, ushering them all out of the hallway to your room to let you sleep in peace

[tiny-minecraft-rabbit]

how to show your heart on your sleeve

After the events of how to growl and bare your teeth by Odaigahara, Pearl begins to learn, with the unintentional help of Scar and Grian, that she is not unloveable.

Part of @mcytrecursive made for @destinys-dragon

Words: 1131

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

Pearl curled around her hand, glaring at it like that would make the burn any less painful. She hardly felt it was fair that she was burned. How was she supposed to remember that she couldn’t just grab the kettle off the fire without a rag, it’s not like she’s used one in over two years; probably longer since she’s heated it over an open fire instead of a furnace. 

She had just wanted to get the tea ready for the three of them before Scar and Grian came back from the nearby town. She had stayed to cook and hunt, happy to once again traverse the forest.

She even found a few of her wolves again. It was clear that the pack had thinned, and she mourned the loss of some of her girls, but she had found Tilly again. The silver wolf was thinner than she remember, and the eyes had aged from their light green to a swampy yellow, but it was her Tilly alright. 

Grian had been wary of the newest addition to their travel party, but Scar had fallen in love in an instant, cooing over the wolf like she was a little puppy and not the terrifying hunter she was. Pearl had to agree though, Tilly was about as adorable as a puppy. Sweet like one too, when she wasn’t mid-hunt. 

Her head poked up as she heard rustling in the woods and the now familiar tones of Grian and Scar. They were once again arguing and she couldn’t help smile as she picked out a few words. Not even two weeks after their grand escape, just a two towns over, and Scar was already starting a scam. They weren’t even out of the Lonely Kingdoms yet, for goodness sakes! She’d have to hear what this was about. 

“Ah! There she is,” Scar exclaimed as they came out the bush into their little clearing of a campsite. “Pearlo, you just have to settle this debate we’re having.”

“It’s not a debate, Scar. You want us to do something stupid, and I’m telling you not to,” Grian replied with a heavy sigh. 

Scar tutted, setting down his bag by the fallen log they had dragged over before setting himself down on top of it. “See, Pearlo, I want to– What happened to your hand?” he asked mid sentence, brows furrowing.

“Oh this?” Pearl asked and waved her hand out, much to fast for either soulmate to see, before tucking it back under her crossed arm. She grimaced as the burn brushed against the fabric of her shirt, “It’s nothing. Just a bit of a burn. Scott will– Or… no. Huh, I guess it’ll just heal on it’s own eventually then. Unrelated question, how long do burns heal without potions?”

Grian sighed then, setting his own bag and beginning to dig through it. “Okay, crazy lady, let’s see it.” 

“See what? I’m fine ,” She insisted, drawing out the ‘i’. She stood, Tilly sitting up to watch her, and used her uninjured hand to grab the potholder off to the side. She grabbed the kettle off the fire properly this time, “See! I boiled water. For tea! You guys like tea, right?” 

Grian didn’t even look up from his bag, just continuing to pull out medical supplies. Scar gave her a soft look, walking over and setting a gentle hand on her arm. He moved her arm to set the kettle back down. “Let’s have tea after. We don’t need to be soulbound to know that you’re hurting.” 

She blinked up at him in quiet surprise, something warm exploding in her chest. There was no shame or anger in Scar’s gaze, just his usual kind smile. She left a growing lump in her throat as she glanced over to Grian. She expected annoyance from him, he was annoyed with everything the two of them did if he wasn’t actively participating in it himself, buy instead he was contently organizing their meager supplies. He was going to waste bandages and medicine on her . 

“I.. I don’t know what to say,” She muttered softly, “You– You guys don’t need to help me, y’know. I’m not going anywhere. Can’t get rid of me, really. Probably.” 

She would follow these two fellas wherever they wanted to go, for as long as they tolerated her. She half thought they would have gotten tired of her by now, but they hadn’t shooed her off like a dog that begged for too many scraps just yet. Instead, they acted like they actually wanted her around. Like she wasn’t a nuisance they kept around for the sake of convenience. Though, she couldn’t figure out what would ever be convenient about keeping around a broken soulbound and her feral wolf would be. 

“You’re our friend Pearl, we’re fixing you up cause we want to,” Scar answered, like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

“Oh,” She said, dumbfounded. She doesn’t think she’s had someone just want to do something for her, just cause, since– since even before she ran from Scott. 

Ah, and there were the waterworks. 

Scar’s eyes widened in surprise and he immediately squished her face between his hands, “OH no. No. No. Why tears? Why crying? Grian, why is our Pearlypop crying?” 

She could hear Grian groan loudly from the other side of the campsite, “I don’t know, Scar! What did you say to her?” 

“I just said we wanted to fix her up and she started crying!” Scar exclaimed, letting go of Pearl’s face so he could push her towards his soulmate. “G, fix it! Fix her!” 

Pearl couldn’t help it, beginning to giggle through the tears. Something in her was tearing apart: a wadded up ball of stress she hadn’t realized was sitting in her chest was being torn apart bit by bit with every sob and laugh she had while listening to the two squabble.

This. This is what she wanted when she left. She had thought she had wanted carefreeness of the woods. She thought she wanted the biting winters over palace walls. 

Scar sat her down on the log and Grian began the careful administration of salve onto her burns and bandages around her hand. He made cutting remarks about how weak she was for a weird little witch as he did so. Tilly slipped beside her, nosing at Grian’s arm and he let her, only stiffening up a bit. Scar held her free hand and cooed over her, wiping her tears and promising her first dips of all the fresh fruits and vegetables they had brought back with them. 

She wanted this. She wanted company and friendship and, most of all, she wanted people who cared for her. She wanted love, and she finally had it.

[korovaoverlook]

Little poster experiment I made for my fanfic, The Doll and The General, featuring Sid at his most poster-boy. This poster would theoretically be produced by the Trade Federation for their evil machinations. I imagine it’s sitting in some sad galactic graphic designer’s files somewhere.

[super-weed-ninja]

A "bad end" to "The Great Skittles Heist of 2105" by the incredible @bluepeachstudios GO READ SKITTLES AND THEN READ THIS

When the time comes, the skittles must stay behind in the future when the turtles find a way back home. At least they still have each other.

Ame's skittles are just the most adorable little guys and I love them so much!! Thank you Ame for trusting me with these kiddos, I promise I only hurt them a little bit... <3

[oblonger]

@sincerely-sofie

Ark watches the sun set.

Ark silently sat next to Twig, holding her hand as she lay under her blanket, the worn out shawl she's owned for decades barely peeking out from underneath. The room was gently illuminated by the small, yellow-orange flame on the end of her tail. The two of them alone, per her requests.

After a long period of agonizing silence, Twig opened her eyes and shifted her head to look at Ark.

"Hey Ark?"

Ark turned to face her, it felt like his heart would rip itself apart whenever he looked at her.

"What is it Twig?" He asked, doing his best to suppress the shaking of his voice.

"Can I ask you for something?"

Ark felt like he already knew what she would ask. "I will not abandon you." He responded, sounding more desperate and grief ridden, than determined like he'd hoped.

Twig gave a small, weak chuckle. "No, I'm not gonna ask you to leave."

Ark felt deep regret at his reaction. "My apologies. What's your request?"

Twig slowly blinked at him, a smile spreading across her face. "It's fine, man. I know I promised, but I wanted to ask if you could put me to sleep. And we could watch the sunrise again."

Ark could feel his other hand shaking. "You will see the sunrise while you still yet live, Twig." Once more sounding more desperate than determined.

Twig very slightly tilted her head. Her smile radiating a warmth that he cherished so much. "Ark..."

He could feel his emotions being torn apart. "I dont... I dont want you to have a nightmare."

Twig weakly chuckled again. "I'm not gonna let some nightmare do me in, Ark."

He wanted to deny her the chance at being uncomfortable, but her expression and the unchanging color of the flame showed him that she wasn't worried in the slightest.

Ark obliged, gently putting her to sleep. His heart pounded as her tail flame gently flickered while it changed from yellow-orange to white.

After being certain that she wasn't in any danger, he closed his eyes to enter her dream.

His relief was indescribable when he saw that Twig wasnt in the flaming bunker, or in a mystery dungeon, or being crushed or anything.

She was sitting near the edge of one of the many cliffs of Mount Trevail, the mountain's forest a short walk away from where she was. She stared out into the horizon while the sun shone down from the middle of the sky. She turned her head to face Ark once he appeared and smiled fondly.

"Took you long enough." She gently remarked.

Ark wanted to laugh, not at her joke, but at just how she was still her, despite the current circumstances. Ark silently moved next to where she was sitting, and lowered himself to the ground. Changing the sun's position to that of just peeking above the horizon.

The two stayed silent for a while.

"Finding you was the best thing that ever happened to me." Twig spoke. Ark glanced at her scar before nodding. "The feeling is mutual."

Ark didnt watch the sunrise. He was watching Twig from the corner of his eyes. His heart sank when Twig's expression suddenly fell.

"I thought I asked for a sunrise, Ark?"

It was too overwhelming. Ark rushed forward and wrapped his arms around her. Twig seemed surprised, not at him hugging her so suddenly, but that it took this long for him to do so.

Ark took in a breath that shook intensly. "I-... I can't do it Twig. I don't-." Ark could feel tears streaming down his face. He hyperventilated whenever he wasn't saying anything "I-I can't do it. I ca-an't be alone h-h-h- Again."

Twig wrapped her arms around him as he wet her chest with tears.

"Shhhhh." She gently rubbed the back of his head. "You wont be alone. It'll be okay."

Ark squeezed her tighter, he wanted her closer to him.

"Twig. I'm-. I'm so scared Twig. I don't-. I don't know wh-what I'll do with-... I dont know wh-at i'll do without you."

Twig lowered her neck to rest on Ark's shoulders. "You'll keep going." She quietly responded.

Ark tightened his grip again. He let out a sob that was louder than all the others.

"Th-theres still time, Twig. h-h- Cresselia-..." Ark's voice cracked. He couldnt force the rest out.

Twig gave a small sigh. No trace of disappointment, sadness, fear or anger.

"I know Ark. But I don't want to. It's going to be okay."

The dream started to shift in a way that was unfamiliar to him.

Ark tried so hard to say something more. He wanted to apologize for being such a burden in her final hours. He wanted to tell her how much he misses her. He wanted to scream and cry and wail about just how much he loves her.

But he couldn't. Everything he tried saying came out as sputtered half words and sobs. After a moment, Twig gave a small chuckle.

"I love you more than words can describe too, Ark."

The landscape around them was being cast in a shadowy haze.

Ark didnt want to let go.

He didn't want to let go.

He so badly wanted to stay with her forever.

Ark's eyes shot open. His face, soaked with tears, his arms wrapped around his chest, hugging himself. He was back in Twig's room. The only light shining from the waxing crescent moon. He looked up to see Twig, resting peacefully. The only movement she made was the thin strand of smoke rising from her extinguished tail.

Ark fell forward and clutched her desperately. The only sound in the room being quiet sobbing.