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jaythes1mp · 3 months

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This is my first official post, and idk how to feel about it. So any and all comments & reblogs are really appreciated. If it’s bad please comment so I know I have to delete it🙏

Your secrets are ours, Kid

Yandere BatFam x Reader — CH1 -> CH2 -> CH3 -> CH4 -> CH5 -> CH6 -> CH7 -> CH8 -> CH9 -> CH10

Nightwing, who’s known for his impressive acrobatic skills and crime-fighting abilities, has become a prominent figure in the city of Blüdhaven. Renowned for his fearless approach to taking down criminals and has gained a notable reputation among the superhero community.

The guy's identity is a complete mystery, though. Nightwing works alone, leaving many of us to wonder who the man behind the mask really is. — Some say he has connections to Gotham City’s own famous vigilante, Batman.

When the young hero is seen in action, he can be often spotted leaping from rooftops and engaging in daring acts of superheroism, leaving criminals and citizens alike in awe of his skill and courage. Some question if he's a human or something more, while others simply look on in admiration. Despite the secrecy surrounding his identity, Nightwing's reputation seems to grow endlessly.

Then there’s Red Hood, the dark and brooding vigilante of Gotham City, a fearsome sight to behold. His red mask and signature pistols make him easily recognizable, and his actions leave criminals trembling in terror.

Some have speculated him being a former criminal reforming his ways while I believe that he too has ties to our one and only Batman. Despite his dark demeanor and ruthless tactics, it seems clear to me that there is a connection between the two. There has been a lot of evidence submitted for their collaboration, even if they choose to deny it publicly. Though, Batman, known for his strict code of ethics, would not typically associate himself with someone as morally ambiguous as Red Hood. But the circumstantial evidence is too compelling to ignore.

Regardless, Red Hood's impact on the criminal underworld is undeniable. He uses violence and intimidation to enforce his own brand of justice, which is rather admirable, yet causing many to question his brutal methods.

Next up is our one and only Batman himself, the dark knight of Gotham City. He’s a mystery in itself. His tall, imposing stature is enough to strike fear into the hearts of criminals, and his reputation as a master detective and fighter only enhances his mystique.

I have been trying to piece together the puzzle that is Batman's identity. Who is the man under the mask? What drives him to take on Gotham's criminals with such determination?

Though the billionaire Bruce Wayne has long been suspected as the man behind the mask, no concrete evidence has ever been presented. His true identity remains a puzzle, something that adds to his allure and intrigue. Every lead I follow seems to hit a dead end. The playboy is too obvious, too niche. What would motivate a Wayne, someone brought up into filthy wealth, who wastes his money on grand galas and prostitutes, into defending this city? The theory is too far reached.

Next are Red Robin and Robin. Batman’s sidekick-associates. Their partnership with Batman has been evident in their actions and fighting style. However, a rumour has been running around, theorising that the newer Robin was a young child when he had first joined Batman at his side.

Would our beloved hero really force a minor into sighting the dark dangerous streets of Gotham? Would he_

As you sat uncomfortably at the countertop of your kitchen, typing away on your laptop, you were suddenly interrupted by the unexpected sound of someone clearing their throat. You look up from the bright screen to see your roommate standing in the doorway, arms crossed. You raise an amused brow, a grin tugging at your lips at the sight of the other male in pyjamas rather than the usual broody black clothes and leather jacket. You click save and shut off the computer, turning fully to face him. “Yes, Jayson dear?”

Jason’s nose scrunches at the name, even as he stands in the doorway wearing nothing but a thin, well-worn shirt and pants. He looks like a child, which is somehow more than a little endearing. His eyes flickering up and down your frame as he appraises you. Despite the relaxed state his attire provides, his expression is as serious as ever. His hands are stuffed in the pockets of the worn flannel pants he’s sporting, but it does little to make him look anything other than intimidating.

He raises a brow, tilting his head as he looks at you, watching you save your work and then turn to face him. “Don’t ‘yes, Jayson dear’ me, smartass.”

You snort, moving off of the chair and stretching out, the cracks in your back loud enough for him to purse his lips at. “Well aren’t you sour this fine morning.”

Jason scoffs, narrowing his eyes. “It’s four am.” He mutters, crossing the kitchen to get to the coffee pot. He doesn’t really need the caffeine, but he likes the routine. He grabs a mug from one of the cabinets, filling it up with black coffee. He’d just snuck back in after his patrol, not expecting to see you up.

“And I’m not sour,” he says a bit petulantly, taking a sip of the coffee before setting it aside. “I’m concerned.”

Your brow raises higher, turning to the worn down clock practically glued to the wall from all the times you’ve both hit it to get the ticking sound to shut off. It’s a digital, why does it need to make such an annoying sound? “Huh. I guess it is.”

He rolls his eyes, not at all surprise that you would lose track of time so easily when you got lost in your writing. “Yeah, you do that sometimes,” he grumbles, taking another sip of coffee.

He looks you over, studying you intently as he crosses his arms. “How long have you been working?”

You hum, looking out the window into the polluted skies of Gotham. The sun had risen. “What answer will make you the least angry?”

“None of them,” Jason says, a scoff escaping his lips. His jaw twitches slightly as he watches you stare out the window, and he can’t help noticing how tired you look. He’s seen you like this before, pushing yourself to the brink just to finish a project, just to get everything perfect.

“How long?” he asks again, his voice a little softer this time.

“...” you sigh, looking away from the window to face him once more. “All night.” Before he can open his mouth to reprimand you, you cut in. “But! My project is due today. And Tim will decapitate me if I’m late on another assignment...” You rub the side of your face tiredly, displaying an uneven smile.

Jason’s annoyance melts away into concern as you speak. He can tell you’re exhausted, and the thought of you pushing yourself so hard for so long makes him want to wrap you up in a blanket and force you to take a nap.

But he can’t do that. Not when you’re an adult, not when you’re not actually his little sibling. Yet. He settles for crossing the kitchen and putting a hand on your shoulder. “You need to take care of yourself,” he says firmly. “You won’t be any good to your professor if you pass out from exhaustion.”

You grin softly and give a tired nod, fishing out your phone to check the university’s time table. “I only have to go in at nine forty.”

“And then you only have to endure a full day of classes,” Jason says dryly, narrowing his eyes. He gently takes your phone out of your hand and tucks it into his pocket. “No more work until then.”

Your eyes widen at the action, quickly scrambling to get the device back. “You– Jay!” You huff, leaning back against the hard counter. His gaze set sternly on you. You feel small under his gaze, as if he’s your father disappointed in you for stealing a tenner.

Jason crosses his arms once more, his eyes never leaving your face. Looking like the definition of a disapproving older brother. “No,” he says firmly, his voice stern. “You need to rest. I can’t have you passing out in the middle of class.”

He takes a step closer, looming over you as he stares you down. “You’re gonna take a nap, and then you’re gonna eat a proper breakfast. Got it?”

You can do nothing but glare. Cursing under your breath and walking past him. You’ll have to complain to Tim about this later.

He watches you stalk past him, a smirk on his face. He can practically hear you swearing at him in your head. He takes a moment to finish off his coffee before following you into the living room.

“What, no clever comeback? No witty remark?” he teases, leaning against the wall and watching you storm into the living room. “Are you actually listening to me for once?”

You make a show of laying down on his red beanbag, tugging the blanket off of the couch to drape over your form and throwing up the middle finger at him.

Jason can’t help but chuckle at your childish display. He moves towards you slowly, stopping when he’s close enough to look down at your face. He crouches down beside you, a smirk on his lips. He places your laptop on the table opposite you and your phone next to it.

“Real mature, kid.” He says, his voice dripping with sarcasm. He ruffles your hair then stands, descending back into the kitchen. “I’ll wake you up an hour before you gotta leave, don’t worry.”

You sigh, mimicking him in an exaggeratedly high pitched voice. “I’ll wake you up an hour before you have to leave, mehmeheh.”

No use of y/n, currently gn leaning towards male.

Things to note: reader is unaware that the Batfamily members are related yet, age is young adult (19-20), everyone is aged up.

Any questions or feedback is appreciated.

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url-is-url · 7 months

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So, the headcanon that ghosts fight to socialize, and also to teach baby ghosts how to use their powers, right?

Johnny 13 is in Gotham. No particular reason, he's just hanging out. He manages to goad the day shift bat kid into a motorcycle race! Fuck yeah, what's better than harassing high school aged superheroes?! Anyway, he and this kid are tearing up the streets and the kid whips out some crazy fucking shadow powers. Um? What happened to Batman doesn't like metas??? (Obviously Batman isn't actually prejudiced against metas, he just logically doesn't want to deal with superpowers + fear toxin and shit, but... his PR could use some work on this front...) Well then, Johnny has crazy fucking shadow powers too, so OBVIOUSLY he needs to compare notes with the yellow kid. By escalating.

Duke Thomas is having a No Good Very Bad Week. This crazy blond dude on a bike is TESTING HIS PATIENCE. And is a total bad luck magnet, the ONLY reason nobody's gotten killed by their chases is that Duke can see when something terrible is about to happen just in time to prevent the crazy coincidence of the moment. Also he can drive through walls? Duke learned that he can take his bike through shadows, that's pretty cool, but this whole situation is still very frustrating. HE IS TOO YOUNG TO HAVE A NEMESIS!!! He asks Babs to run some facial recognition magic and the only match is some guy who died in a motorcycle wreck like twenty years ago??? Duke compiles a file to present to the Batfam, fully expecting them to call him crazy when he explains his theory that his nemesis is a ghost.

Batman: That tracks actually. I've dealt with a dead highwayman who calls himself Gentleman Ghost, and there's a ghost on call with the League. Here, have some nth metal gear, it's ghost proof, good investigating :)

Duke: *TheSignal.exe has stopped working*

Duke finally manages to catch his ghost guy! He goes to question him about why he feels a need to be such a nuisance.

Johnny 13, grinning, not answering shit: Hey, you guys are detectives or whatever right? Have you ever tried hiding in the shadows under someone's clothes to stalk them?

Duke: ***TheSignal.exe has stopped working***

Duke: WELL NOW I'M GONNA

#it is of the UTMOST IMPORTANCE to me that duke thomas is just as feral as the rest of the batfam #dpxdc #i have an elaborate headcanon about why johnny 13 is Like That vis a vis his luck and sentient shadow but it is not the point of this post

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gobbogoo · 5 months

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Who Is Scout's Ma?

She's a character we know extremely little about, however when you stop to consider the IMPLICATIONS of what little we DO know, things start to get interesting:

1. She lives in the roughest part of Boston ("if you were from where I was from, you'd be dead") but dresses quite elegantly.

2. She had 8 boys, all of whom she raised BY HERSELF, and yet somehow she finds the time to maintain this impeccable appearance.

3. Scout clearly loves and admires her to a point where it's one of the few things he'll drop his "tough guy" act for, and dialogue in the comics like "Ma's gonna kill me if she finds out" implies he also still fears her disapproval, despite being a fully autonomous adult.

4. Spy, despite what he likes to pretend, is clearly head-over-heels for her. He even had her likeness engraved on his fanciest gun! (Note the distinct hairband & hoop earrings) For a man who avoids attachment to the point where he never lets anyone see his face, that's an unusual degree of infatuation.

5. None of Scout's brothers left Boston while he was growing up, despite a few of them presumably being adults by then. Not only this, they were still all getting into fights together, implying they were both continuing to live with or near their mother and brothers, AND had reasons to brawl with others beyond just some adolescent street scuffle.

My Theory:

Scout's Ma is the matriarch of a Boston-based crime family.

It explains her elegant appearance, how she and Spy were able to meet, why their bond clearly goes beyond a one-off fling, why she was able to be in Scout's life so much despite the financial burdens of being a single mother of 8, and why all of said 8 were continuing to get into fights with other locals. They weren't just some street gang, they were enforcers. It also explains why/how Scout got into mercenary work, his many mafia-themed weapons, and why he continues to fear her ire even as an adult.

Plus, take a look at this unused angle of the last photo from Meet The Spy:

You'd THINK a single mother from the rough side of Boston wouldn't appear so in-her-element on a fancy date with The Spy, and yet her appearance and demeanour here just SCREAM "confident and in control."

Scout's Ma is Boston's Godmother, and I desperately wish to see someone draw her as such.

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thisblogwasmadeforlurkin · 2 years

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Fanon Friday February: Z Nation, Eerie Indiana, Fear Street, Harringrove

Shaking things up a bit on my Dreamwidth comms for the rest of February and doing Fanon Fridays instead of Fic Rec Fridays (Fic Rec Fridays will return come March).

At Znationhq, we’re talking about Murphy

At Harringrovers we’re talking about what happened between seasons 2 and 3

At eerieindiana we’re talking about Mayor Chisel

at fearstreet2021 we’re talking about the Goodes

#z nation #harringrove #eerie indiana #fear street #stranger things #fanon friday february #dreamwidth #theories #theory discussion #please reblog

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notaplaceofhonour · 6 months

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it’s october 7th. you hear about the attack by seeing people you followed glorifying the terrorist attack—a massacre, a pogrom—as victory & justified resistance, glorifying a terrorist group that was founded with the explicit intent to kill your entire people

you make a post in which you make it clear you support palestinians and oppose the ways israel has wronged them, explaining that the terrorist group is still not good. you know you will probably get some flacc from the pro-Hamas side, but naively underestimate how much.

you get thousands of notifications on that one post, the majority of them hateful comments.

some of the response is positive. multiple messages thank you for the post, expressing bafflement that it’s controversial.

a few Israelis are upset at the loaded language in your post, but explain their problems with it civilly. you called Israel “apartheid”. they ask you what apartheid laws Israel has. you admit you honestly don’t know.

your inbox is flooded with anonymous hate from anti-Israel leftists.

over the course of a few weeks you have received hundreds of death threats, a dozen rape threats. people accuse you of being pro-genocide. you’re a literal Nazi. you’re racist, you thirst for the blood of Palestinians. you’re brainwashed by propaganda, a shill for The Zionist Entity. a few of the hate messages are from literal Neo-Nazis; the overwhelming majority are from leftists, many of them queer.

you are considering suicide.

you see footage of the october 7th attacks. you see footage of the bombings in gaza. you see footage of a Jewish man being murdered at an anti-Israel rally.

a popular creator you follow posts in support of an antisemitic hate group that masquerades as a Jewish organization. this organization regularly posts blood libel and other antisemitic rhetoric, works with groups that are even more explicitly antisemitic, including celebrating October 7th, holocaust inversion, blood libel, “Khazar theory” and others. more than one of the orgs they work with is pro-Putin.

your former roommate liked the post.

graffiti appears on a street you frequent that says “#freepalestine” and “end settler colonialism”

the boyfriend of the friend you spent most of the summer with makes his first post about the war. it’s a reposted comic that mocks and downplays the october 7th attack.

you doubt he’ll be receptive to criticism. he’s shared leftist memes about “monied elites” pulling all the strings and evangelicals being modern day “pharisees” in the past, and getting him to understand why that was antisemitic was like herding cats. you try anyway.

another of his Jewish friends also pushes back. he smugly dismisses her, tells her she’s falling for Zionist propaganda and uses several antisemitic tropes. you go off on him. he just deletes your comment.

you give up. you’re done. you block him.

you see anti-Israel posters and billboards around town

you mention what happened with the guy you went off on to his girlfriend—the friend you’ve grown very close to, who you’ve been listening to as she unburdens her fears for the future and complains about her bf’s BS over the last year. she doesn’t respond to you.

a friend of a friend shares posts tokenizing fringe groups that spread blood libel and have collaborated with holocaust deniers. you know they don’t know what you know, so you explain what those groups are. they seem somewhat receptive, apologize, and take it down

the next day they share several more posts that dip into antisemitic tropes. you mention this to your mutual friend, that you’re worried about them being radicalized. you’re not sure how receptive they’ll be to continued criticism

you have a confrontation with the foaf. in the meantime they’ve shared even more antisemitic posts. they say they didn’t mean to cause you distress but instead of stopping they effectively block you.

the “end settler colonialism” vandalism has been counter-vandalized with the words “commie propaganda” in place of “settler colonialism”. you don’t know if this is an improvement.

a month passes. the friend whose bf you went off on still hasn’t spoken to you. you see she shared a post defending an SJP chapter that posted Nazi cartoon caricatures of Jews repurposed in “Anti-Zionist” memes. you unfriend her on all social media platforms but you can’t bring yourself to block her number.

you see a friend of someone whose couch you surfed when you were homeless harassing Jewish celebrities with “Free Palestine” comments. you block them.

you’ve lost count of how many people you’ve unfollowed or blocked, or who’ve blocked you. friends, content creators.

when a friend takes an unusually long time to respond you worry if it’s because of your posts about antisemitism.

most of the podcasts, youtube channels, and other content creators you regularly engaged with no longer feel safe. you wonder who will be next

a couple friends wish you a happy hanukkah. you don’t celebrate much aside from lighting the hanukkiah and making some latkes.

you see posts about a destroyed chabad menorah, antisemitic comments on Jewish celebrities’ Hanukkah posts.

your neighborhood is covered in pro-Palestine & anti-Israel posters. some are seemingly innocuous, some are JVP “not in our name” posters. some call for intifada. “globalize the intifada” “Zionists fuck off!” “solidarity means attack!”

a man kills himself shouting “free palestine”. you learn about his suicide by seeing posts from several popular accounts you followed glorifying it.

you follow a bunch of jewish accounts on social media and commiserate with them about everything happening

your jewish friends post screenshots of the dead man’s antisemitic, pro-Hamas views. you look at his reddit and find even more horrific shit: anti-Ukraine posts. mocking Zelensky. “elites” are “lizard people”; the only named individual he calls a lizard person is Jewish. you start to notice a pattern: a lot of the people he dislikes just so happen to be jews.

several people you know share a post glorifying this man’s suicide. most are acquaintances, one is someone incredibly important to you.

you wonder how they would respond to your suicide.

you tell the close friend that shared this post how it scares you. you show them the receipts of the man’s antisemitism. their response is a single sentence. they didn’t know about the antisemitism.

they don’t apologize.

you notice none of your irl friends, even your closest ones, interact with your posts about antisemitism. you are able to vent to a couple friends, but no one has reach out to you

you try not to read into it. you try not to take it personally.

you haven’t slept well in months. you’ve always been an insomniac but not like this. you’re not sleeping until 4am, 6am, even 9am. even when you get to bed at a decent hour and get a full night’s rest it takes you hours to get out of bed.

a few weeks go by. the friend with the single sentence response shares a post saying they’re excited and proud to join a group to help palestinians. you’re excited and proud for them.

a couple days later, they share a post about a fundraiser to help a palestinian family get out of gaza. you note to yourself this is a much more effective & less concerning form of activism than the pro-suicidal antisemite post.

your friend shares another post about the fundraiser. it’s a joint post between their group and another group.

you open the other group’s page

the page is just a wall of signs from rallies. you swipe through one after another: “from the river to the sea”, “by any means necessary”, justifying/denying the atrocities of october 7th, calling for violent revolution. anything done in the name of resistance can’t be terrorism, all Israelis are terrorists. Jews aren’t indigenous; they’re white colonizers. holocaust inversion. other vile, thinly veiled violent rhetoric

you feel sick to your stomach imagining talking to your friend about it.

you already feel like you’re burdening the few friends you can talk to about this. you already feel like you think about it too much, talk about it too much. but you can’t not think about it; it affects every aspect of your life.

you’ve filtered out relevant keywords on more than one social media site to avoid the worst of it. some still manages to leak through.

there isn’t a single friend you regularly interact with that you don’t fear the moment when they will switch from listening to your concerns to seeing you as the evil zionist or indoctrinated hasbaranik they’ve been warned about.

it’s not an irrational fear. it keeps happening. you knew it would then, and you were powerless to do anything about it before, and you continue to be as it happens again and again.

you don’t know what to do about any of it.

#idk just kinda wanted to document what this has been like all back to back #I know some of these on their own might come across as not that big of a deal but all together #they add up #tw for the all of it #cw trauma dump #antisemitism #i/p #tw suicide #tw suicidal ideation #tw death threats #tw rape threats #tw october 7th #tw terrorism

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long-live-astronerd-ghost-king · 5 months

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DP×DC prompt. Pre-Dead on main. Soulmate Au.

Do clones have soulmates? And evil (depressed) future versions of yourself? Only phamily is allowed to know.

~~~~

Jason wasn’t particularly thrilled to have a soulmate. Of course, it was a rare phenomenon many wanted. But the presence of the tattoo did not guarantee a meeting with the fate promised man. The tattoo was more a clue than a commitment, according to Jason. Meeting a street rat like him would be a good way to form a brotherhood, but that doesn’t mean he could trust a stranger completely just because fate says so.

After he became Robin, owning a soulmate became undesirable. Jason once again made sure that it was best that they never meet. It would be safer for his human. Or rather, so Jason thought, until his inscription suddenly darkened and disappeared. Died. His solmate died, and there was nothing he could do. He knew it could happen, but somehow it hurt anyway. One person has only one soulmate for life. And he wasted his chance by not even trying to find his one.

He didn’t even have time to meet someone for whom fate has chosen this line:

Hoc est vivere bis, vita posse priore frui.

(It is to live twice, when you can enjoy recalling your former life)

And Now it didn’t matter. Would they be lovers, best friends, family? What kind of person was the one whom the universe associated with this quote?Jason is not meant to know.

~~~~~~

Todd was suffering from nightmares. No, to be more specific, he was experiencing a completely different life in a dream. A few days earlier, he had hallucinations in which his surroundings seemed to change the appearance of different eras for a few seconds. Strange glitch. Jason blamed the sleep deprivation that Red Robin must have given him through bite. But Robin didn’t know who the hell Red Robin was.

The search for a biological mother, death and resurrection. His work as a crime lord. His madness and envy to the red robin. It was so strange. Life in Gotham never allowed him to be a naive child like the idiots of Metropolis but those dream memories made him grow up to fast again. In an attempt to wash away this nightmare and this blood, Jason stands under a cold shower at five o'clock in the morning. And then he notices that his mark has changed. It looks like a tree crown now.

On top of the old grey line a neon-green quotes lit up in latin, but now Jason can read them without a dictionary:

1)Death pursues the man even as he flees from it.

2) Hail, Emperor, those who are about to die salute you.

3) There is no easy way from the earth to the stars.

When B tries to pat him on the shoulder after the patrol, Robin dodges. Too much has happened, or rather, too much should happen. These dreams are too real to be the result of fear toxin damage or something else. The feeling of betrayal and fear that comes when he just thinks about the damn clown is too intense. And now he's too weak to fight him. He doesn't have his gang or a more mature body, or even the confidence in Batman that allowed Robin to fly without a doubt.

~~~~~

~You can't love anyone, 'cause that would mean you had a heart~

If you were loved by a man when he was alive, then the love of a ghost will be for you either a blessing or a curse. And if the spirit is not at rest because of his hatred for man, then there is no special sense to put up with the dead. They can hardly change their attitude. They don’t think critically. Maddie and Jack expound this theory on career day for Danny’s classmates. And they don’t understand why their boy looks at the presentation with horror.

Danny was fond of the quote on his wrist. It gave him hope many times even in the darkest of times.

~Fortis est ut mors dilectio / Love is strong as death~

Danny never listened to his parents' theories before. But what if they’re right? What if the ghosts of nature are just good liars and his ghost half convinced his human half that he’s still capable of emotion? Were these just residual memories of affection about family and friends that forced him to stay in Amity Park? Was it just his ghost obsession that told him a man behind his mark was important?

For the first time, when Jazz summons all the Phantoms to a weekly meeting, Danny does not seek excuses, but brings the matter up for a discussion.

Truly, it's no surprise to him that Dan’s tattoo is invariable. But it’s a bit of a surprise that Dani shares special human with them. Well, as ghosts, they have zero chance of actually spending their "lives" with the person behind words, so there’s no reason to be jealous of each other.

A lot of soulmates live their lives without each other, and it's not a tragedy. Or so Danny and Dani thought. Until Dan sarcastically notes during a family therapy session in Jazz’s room that their soulmate will not live to be fifteen either.

Their feelings or their absence will wait. Their soul mate is now in real danger, and this is far more important than the existential crisis of a few pieces of ectoplasm. This is the main problem. Jazz doesn’t agree, but honestly, the older sister has always been a bore. Danny panics and Dani also bursts into tears when Dan just shrugs his shoulders.

Danny: So you know who is our soulmate is, right? Dan: Of course I do. And I know the grave won’t hold him forever. Dani: So how is he..going to die? Dan: Murdered. By the Joker. I studied the case. Asked Vlad to still it for me. That was the beginning of the end, I think. So many broken bones and so much blood, and then the explosion. Not the best way to die. The only thing I regret is that I didn't stop playing the hero and kill that damn clown before it happened. It would solve so many problems. And why didn't I throw a temper tantrum a couple of days earlier instead of trying to get rid of my emotions first?

Danny: True. That shit didn't work anyway. Dan: Shut up. Dani: I was hoping that our soulmate would be happy even without us. Does this really have to happen? Isn't there anything we can do? Dan: Ask your time freak. But in my experience, anything connected to Phantom just doesn’t get a happy ending.

~~~~~~They say that time's supposed to heal ya, but I ain't done much healing~~~~~~

Jazz is not surprised when after breakfast with her siblings she's asked to leave so they can talk to themselves alone. Dan: Well, shoot. What else do you want to know? Danny: Like you didn’t figure it out. All right. When you asked Vlad to separate your human half from ghost half, whether you really wanted to get rid of human emotions or.. Dan: Or did I try to kill myself? You are me. You must know the answer. Nobody's left. Could you live with the shame of not being able to save them? Dani: Um, that vile monster who made all this happen with out soulmate, it was still exist in your timeline? Dan: Yes. And Batman too. Even after Jason's death he didn’t get rid of the damn clown.

Danny: You were supposed to be there for him. Dan: I know. Dani: Did you at least avenge him? Dan: I tried. But his paranoid furry dad, with his backup plans for backup plans, was always getting in my way. Dani: Batman? Our soulmate is Robin? Danny: Come on, you terrorized the entire Amity Park, don’t tell me you’re scared of a man in a bat suit. You couldn't get rid of one person under bat's nose? Seriously? We're such a disgrace, man. Dan: Oh please, don’t be ridiculous. Danny: So why not? Dan: Because Batman is his father, like I said. You know how I work. Even if I had only come for Joker, there would be no guarantee that I wouldn't end up getting into a fight with this vigilante as well. Even if the bastard deserved a good beating, it would still be awkward if our soulmate returned to the world of the living and it turned out that this was not what he wanted, right? Danny: How thOughTfuL.

Dan:...I think I told you to shut up.

Danny: Yeah, yeah. So, what’s the plan? Dan: You do realize that if I go to Gotham, I won’t spare Joker or anyone who will try to hurt our bird? Danny: Well, if Сlockwork has a problem with it he should say it to my face. I’m not asking you to hold back. Not this time. Joker is not just a random guy or a ghost who can be talked out of his ideas. Better nip the problem in the bud. Dani: Yeah. We are ghost, so it's our nature to protect what belongs to us. And we are selfish because we are humans. We can’t hide it, well, from ourself, right? Danny: Um, right, but we think you should stay. It's too dangerous. Dani: But he's my soulmate too! Even if he doesn't get to know either of us, I also want to do something to help him. Someone has to serve as a distraction or be ready to help. I'm coming too. It's not up for discussion.

Dan: Just let her. She's just as stubborn as we are. We'll spend more time on pointless arguments than on the mission itself.

Danny: I hate it when you're right.

Dani: Now, should we tell Jazz about our weekend or? Danny: Good question.

~~~~~~ Jazz: Where are you guys going? Danny: To commit murder. Nothing brings families together faster, you know? Want to come with us? Jazz: Haha, very funny. Take me a burger on the way home. Dani: Okay. Dan: Oh, she's gonna kill us.

#dpxdc #dcxdp #dc x dp prompt #dead on main #dead on main ship #dp x dc #dp x dc crossover #dp x dc prompt

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devilander · 4 months

Text

rain falls in love

homelander x gn reader. fluff, hurt/comfort, mentions of past abuse

Cozy Corner Domaystic: Thunderstorm

You were a light sleeper. Even minor disturbances would wake you instantly; your cat meowing, a neighborhood’s TV turned on, cars passing through the street. Whenever Homelander and you slept together you couldn't help but be slightly envious of how he could turn off the whole world—he slept like a stone, slept like the dead.

Today, though, you doubted many could sleep through the thunderstorm that split New York’s sky. Each thunder louder than the other, sequences of lightning turning the apartment clear as day. And, courtesy of your boyfriend's gigantic windows, you felt enclosed in the roar of the night.

For some, it could be an entertaining spectacle; nature's power a soothing balm, a way to make you contemplate how much of your worries were small and ephemeral—in the end, there was only the earth and the rain.

You could, in theory, see the poetry of it. But all you felt was an overwhelming fear. The loud noises reminded you of your father's booming voice, the cracking of electricity too similar to his heavy hands landing on you.

John was away, having left a week ago in some undisclosed mission. Undisclosed to the public, of course, because he told you in detail how, actually, he was going to take part in a non-authorized invasion of a terrorist cell. Or so he called it.

You were alone. Only you and the storm and Popsicle purring in your lap, indifferent to his surroundings.

After another furious thunder nearly frightening you to death, you decided to call John. Tears streamed down your face and you felt ridiculous—it’s only rain. And yet.

He probably wouldn't pick up. If he did, he'd be too busy, what could he do?

In the first ring, however, he answered. “Hello, sweet face. Awake at this hour?”

“Oh, it's nothing.” You tried to disguise your sniffles, suddenly beyond embarrassed. “I just wanted to hear your voice.”

Silence, and then—

“Is it the storm, sweetheart?”

“Yes, yeah. I can't sleep, it keeps reminding me of… you know. I'm sorry for bothering you.”

“Don't you ever apologize to me for that, ever,” he retorted, voice tinged with anger, though you knew it wasn't aimed at you.

“Can we—” Another thunder, and this time you yelped, scaring Popsicle so that he ran to hide under the bed. “God, I hate this,” you whimpered. “I just want you here. I miss you so much.”

“I miss you too, you precious thing. Fuck, this is bullshit. A fucking week here and we accomplished shit. They sent me the most incompetent team of motherfuckers, I'm up my ass with their whining and ‘but sir, mister Edgar said we should be cautious’.”

You laughed. “Sounds like a trifle.”

“Ugh, fucking tell me about it. A week without you for this bullshit. Y’know what, I'm out. Hold on there, honey, I'll be with you in a moment.”

And he hung up. And the storm raged on, but you felt a giddy warmness settling on you.

Not before long, he barged in, completely wet, but you couldn't care less. You ran to his arms, letting the raindrops seep through your clothes as tangible proof of his devotion.

“You didn't need to come.”

“Ah, but I promised, didn't I? I'll be with you anytime you need me, and you need me now, don't you?”

You giggled, forgetting all about the fears. It was washed over. “I do. And you need a hot bath.”

“Hmph. You too, little baby. C’mon, join me.”

You sat behind him in the tub, washing his hair, enjoying every second of this quiet moment. He moaned at the contact and squeezed your thigh as it circled his waist.

If the storm was a demonstration of nature's power, John was both its likeness and antithesis—he himself was a force to be reckoned with, an amalgamation of sheer strength and might. Created by men, but a victim of them. You could understand that, quite intimately.

He gave you security in his power, and you gave him peace in your tenderness—the value of a whisper to a snowbank.

“John,” you whispered. “I love you. I'll keep you forever, because you belong to me and I to you. Will you let me?”

You felt, more than you saw, his deep breath, swallowing back tears you knew were spilling down his cheeks. You didn't care what they said, what he did looking back in anger, because this was the only truth.

“Yeah…” He choked up, but soldiered on. “Yeah, my love. I'm never letting you go. I fucking love you to pieces.”

As you lay in bed together you decided—in the end, there was only he and you.

#homelander #homelander x reader #homelander x you #cozy corner domaystic 2024 #prompt: thunderstorm #homelander fanfiction #the boys #my writing #first contribution babey #heavy weather by billie martin in the background

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jazjelspen · 7 months

Text

scarlet and silver lining (part 1)

(alastor w/ daughter reader)

(fem reader/notproofread!/apologies for anything ooc qwq/apologies for the pacing as well!!!! It’s 1AM LMAO—)

[chapter 1]

Sure, you didn’t actually want to redeem yourself.

Personally, you knew you were in the right place and were meant to be in this spot in the afterlife. You weren’t bloodthirsty and power hungry like the rest of the monsters down here but your sins were from your reckless decisions and you knew you couldn’t take it back.

So in turn, you didn’t truly trust the princess’s claims and theories.

But here you were, in her hotel through her doorstep. Dragging you along by your wrist being gentle but also filled with such excitement that she might’ve tugged a bit too hard for your preference.

As she led you to introduce yourself to the other residents and staff, you couldn’t help but wonder why exactly you let yourself get into this predicament.

Then again, you didn’t really have a choice.

_______________________________

Your hands stopped from fixing your hair, you had been stunned from preparing yourself for the next twenty minutes you’d be on air. Your face contorting while your eyes stared dead at your reflection at the mirror decorated with bright little light bulbs all around it’s frame as they shined their lights on you. Your hands shaking slightly and barley starting to sweat.

Why exactly were you shocked? Your boss.

“See here ____, what I need you to do is to simply get in through inside the princess’s little hotel and spy for me for a few weeks here and there! Document everything for me, whichever way you can. “

Vox, your boss, was ordering you on a new mission for you to do. He wouldn’t have you do these kinds of things regularly unless he needed some kind of spy or a pretty face for a segment of his show to get more ratings or as a distraction of sorts. Although lately he’s been sounding more aggravated, annoyed—dying to get what he wants. He was facing the set his crew were preparing as they fixed a few lights, checked if the cameras were functioning, etc.

It was good that he was facing that way and you the other, for if he saw your look of shock and slight fear spreading across your face like a disease he would probably question you like some kind of unruly detective for it.

But why wouldn’t you react this way? After all, he was asking you to spy and be around your father. The man you were ashamed of being connected to. He didn’t know this— he didn’t have to know this. For you knew Vox would simply use and wear you out as a pawn, overwork you, maybe torture you and hurt you to get specific answers.

He wasn’t afraid of doing anything to get what he wants anyway.

“Tape recorder, journal, write it on some fucking menstrual pad I don’t fucking care. I simply need to know what that fucker is thinking of doing next with Lucifer’s daughter now on his fucking shoulder.”

He snapped, static overtaking his voice at the end of his sentences. Clearly absolutely finished with this entire situation especially since for all you knew the last time someone tried to sneak in for him they were caught in the matter of a day, and if you didn’t have a direct connection to Vox he would’ve sent you first.. but now you were one of his only options until he really got frustrated.

“Oh but do this for me and you’ll get your own little studio! Your own show! Be your own boss, have your own crew.. you get the idea. All financially supported by me! Oh and you even get to live by yourself.. although—

I still own you. Get that. But you get your little artistic freedom huh sweetheart? What do you say? Do this little favor for me? If you don’t I’ll simply.. kill you.

Or throw you in the streets. Depending on how badly you fuck up you’ll get either one of the two! You’ll die either way.”

You were left a bit shocked, the immense dump of information overwhelming you so. “I—I—“

“Good.” He cut you off.. geez. “You start in two days, two days to get what you need and to at least plan how you’ll keep me updated. And remember, you give me all the information either throughout your stay there or you spit it all out when I need you to still be here on the job.” He fixed his bow tie walking towards the set to start the broadcast, a strong frown decorating his screen before hiding his stress with a cocky smile for the cameras.

You looked at your reflection with a grim look on your face, heart sinking and a shaky sigh escaped.

You didn’t want to see him again. You couldn’t.. you— wouldn’t.

But you needed to do it whether you liked it or not. You knew this.

Survive, get a few more perks and bonuses that would very much make you live your afterlife a bit more comfortably.

It’s just gonna be a month right?— Fuck.. Vox didn’t specify how long simply just… a few weeks. Most likely he just wants you to be there as long as you could.

Keep your life, get a better job, better home home, stay protected. That’s what you’ve been focusing for all these years—

Why stop now.

____________________________________

Dragged by the princess you were stopped in front of a group of sinners, your other hand almost losing its grip on your suitcase but managed to catch it by the tips of your fingers. The sweat from the anxiety that was accumulating while on your way here.

It weirded you out a bit that Charlie didn’t react to your drenched hand. maybe she was too overwhelmed with emotions as well to notice?…

Charlie set you in front of a pink spider, someone you knew all too well from the constant advertisements, short interactions with him, and Valentino’s undying yapping, Angel Dust.

“Angel, meet ____, _____ meet Angel!! She’s going to stay here for a chance at redemptiooon!! How amazing!” Her excitement was pouring out like thunder and lightening, just simply uncontainable.

The pink soul darted its eyes at you with a sense of familiarity. You knew being a known figure would be a bit of a challenge but god— you really wanted that place to yourself.

“Heyy.. Angel..” you waved a little sheepishly, knowing how awkward this feels for you at least.

Angel eyed you a bit intensely, but you knew deep down he sorta understood why you’d be here as well— at least not knowing that Vox himself sent you here—maybe he thinks that your presence is due to the same reason he’s away from Valentino. Needing an escape from your abusers and bosses was something he understood all too well.

“Hiya cutie, didn’t expect to see you here of all places.” He smirked as he waved back at you but in a more confident and laid back way than you did.

Charlie paused at his words, “Oh? You two know eachother?—“

“Oh.. I know this adorable face anywhere!” Angel exclaimed proudly with one of his arms reaching over to squish one of your cheeks playfully, you laughing a bit due to the slight awkwardness of the situation but also because he was one of the very few people you never had issues with despite how much you guys never really talked much.

“She’s a real darling, hard worker and all. Although.. didn’t think your boss was that bad as to make you want to run in here of all places..”

“I was about to say— aren’t you that chick that is on TV for that one overlord’s show or somethin’…” a low and almost growly voice spoke from slightly farther away.

Looking towards that particular direction you are met with a cat-like person, a furry soul with fluffy ears and a seemingly insatiable thirst for alcohol the way he drank down a large bottle of cheap booze like water.

Your shoulders raised up a bit in embarrassment, smiling as a way to cover up your nervousness that was already slipping.

“Didn’t we also literally catch Pentious trying to work for him literally not that long ago?.. At this point they aren’t even trying to hide it by sending her here.” Spoke another, this time a more serious female voice descended from a mature woman with long silver hair and an ‘X’ over her eye that resembled those of the exorcists.. huh.

You shook your hands together a bit as you tried to defend yourself in a way, not wanting to be caught this easily “Oh nonono!.. I’m not here because my boss sent me I— I just..—“

“Yknow what Vagina,” Angel interrupted you to glare at the woman that spoke “If you knew anything about how the V’s treat their employees you wouldn’t blame her and I for wanting to be away from them and anything work related.. got it toots?”

Your heart warmed slightly but also let out a huge sigh of relief. Maybe that wasn’t the real reason why you were here but you were glad to know that Angel was someone you could relate the most due to your very similar situations.

“Yea Vaggie! Let’s give her a chance! If Angel knows her and if we make sure she’s here for reals then she’s a perfect second official resident!!”

The girl, now named Vaggie by Charlie, rolls her eyes as she lets out a sigh. “Can we at least check if she has no electronics on her. If this turns out to be another Pentious I will not hesitate this time.”

A single glare from her one eye piercing you with a sharp and merciless spike. Making you feel even more nervous and unwelcomed but.. you knew you had to just keep going..

“Oh Vaggie no need to be so rude to our new guest! We can do those checks later! Right now it’s introduction time!!” She exclaimed almost jumping up a down, a bit too joyous for your liking.

Angel noticed this and side eyed you while whispering a cheeky comment to you “Ms. Rainbow pants here may be a bit much but you’ll get used to it sweetcheeks.” He said, with a tone more sounding of an older brother of sorts.

You smiled a bit at him but then looked away to try to relax, not excited to be ‘introduced’ to someone you knew was in the far.. far corner of it all.

“Oh and this is Vaggie! My girlfriend and manager of this establishment! If you have any issues or concerns you may check in with her, she’s a-ma-zing!” Despite making her sound helpful and less.. terrifying. You couldn’t help but still feel rather intimidated.

Vaggie continued to glare at you with a clear distrust in you. You just waved at her shyly as well, trying to at least not seem as dangerous as she may think you are.

Until Charlie once again dragged you to four other figures, the fourth one a bit behind the first three. “And this is Husk the bartender, Nifty our housekeeper and cook, and Sir Pentious! Pentious being one of our first official residents!”

She spoke each name by pointing to which name belonged to who, Pentious’s name ringing a bell but it was new seeing his appearance. So this is the guy that forced Vox to drag you here instead..

Husk, the cat that spoke earlier simply looked at you and didn’t give another word, downing yet another bottle. Pentious waved at you with the same energy you gave as well but was more or less focused on his ‘eggs’ that were poking at the flesh around his eyes on his tail and Nifty.. well..

She was on top of you, more specifically— your head.

She was sniffing you, eying you like a fucking hawk, inspecting you as if you could be contaminated with a dying virus— your breath hitched as you hoped she wouldn’t smell the fear growing on you as your skin went cold.

“Fairly.. clean….” She then backed up slightly to inspect your eyes with her own giant one only to then scurry off across your body like a bug, causing you to get disgusting goosebumps.

“Pretty.. smells nice.. no dirt—“ she then stopped by suddenly standing in front of you with a big ol’ smile as if what she just did was incredibly normal.

“Hiya! I’m Nifty! Had to make sure you weren’t bringing any filth in the hotel.. I just cleaned this place…” She took out her little hand for you to shake.. being hesitant but not willing to be rude to someone this peculiar— you shook her hand with just two of your fingers and before you could pull away yourself she then immediately scurried off as fast as she came.

“And then last but not least—“

“Alastor! Quite a pleasure, a real pleasure to get to meet you young lady! Please, feel free to be welcomed into the Hazbin Hotel!” Alastor, the radio demon, dad— approached you with such enthusiasm and enticement. As if he couldn’t wait to talk to you.

Your blood ran cold, eyes widened with fear, your free hand clutched tightly at the handle of your luggage as Alastor took the other to then put it up to where his smile was, not kissing it or having your hand too near his lips but still keeping courtesy of when meeting a woman as he usually would.

Even in death, he stays a gentleman as per usual.

“My my.. you poor soul. To have to run away from your employer down to this place.. why he must be a terrible person, isn’t he?”

Ah right.. Vox and Alastor hated eachother. You knew this very well.. you honestly didn’t know much about why they hated eachother other than the running joke that Vox most definitely lost a fight with him.

You died years later after Alastor did so you don’t exactly have the full scoop. Him dying in your late teens and you dying in your mid to almost late 20s. You lived life yet— some would say not enough.

“Poor thing, not to worry! Let this be your safe house! Your haven, your asylum, your refuge!” He exclaimed each two sets of words by twirling you around in an exaggerated manner, in a style reminiscent of the way dancers would spin their dance partners in the 30s. You recognized this move all too well— feeling almost nostalgic.

Although you were slightly grateful for one thing he was doing right.. not being overly revealing or announcing the one big fact you two had between the both of you.

You didn’t need that fact to be running around the place like some kind of daily gossip.

Before your anxiety would make you burst in crying or throwing up right in his face you immediately tugged your hand away, his own keeping your wrist in his palm.

“Thank.. you—“ your hand holding the luggage let go to try to tug his hand from holding you any longer until you then finally managed to pull his grip away from off of your other wrist in order to create more space between him and you from the immense anxiety you were having, your lungs threatening not to quicken and burst like balloons. You immediately went back to hold onto your luggage once more.

“How.. welcoming..” you pretended as if you were dusting off your clothes and your arms as if trying to tidy yourself up instead it really meant to give you a few more seconds to collect your thoughts properly.

‘God.. everyone knowing I’m with Vox is only going to make this real fucking hard— I didn’t think this entirely fucking through..’ ah yes.. you totallyyy weren’t panicking about this now active interaction the past two days huh—

‘just act calm and cool _____, you need that money, you need that place, you need that show, you need protection.. stick to the plan..’

“Uh— how humble!.. of your Hotel staff to be so.. welcoming— your highness.” You spoke to Charlie, smiling brightly as if all of this was just casual conversation.

“A real treat seeing dear ol’ Angel Dust here, good to see a familiar face ain’t it Angie?” You turned slightly towards the pornstar, with him returning your comment by exclaiming with a “Damn right!”

Charlie smiled intensely with a nod, face full of joy and innocence. “I’m so sososo glad you like it here so far!! Your experience here won’t be disappointing! You’ll have an absolute blast!—

oh oh!! Can’t forget! We have to get you to your room! If you’d like you can stay there and rest or come down here and join us! Whichever you feel comfortable with.”

“Why thank you very much your highness, your hospitality sure is a darn nice breath of fresh air compared to the rest of hell. Bunch of cats and dogs fighting like wild animals out there.. need a real break once in awhile..” you spoke as you followed Charlie as she lead the way to your room, giving you a minor tour of the hotel before letting you rest in your new humble abode.

Your act, although part sincere and true, was full of holes. Holes not enough for the normal gaze to see but they are clear enough for him to see.

Alastor would eye you as you followed the princess, his fingers uncurling and curling around his staff slowly and menacingly. His sharp pupils narrowing while aligning with his grin as it expanded with a sense of mischief holding it up by its ends.

He saw right through you, of course he would, he knows when you lie, know when you’re honest, when you’re afraid and happy.

Why lie to him my dear? If you know that he knows you like the back of his hand.

Either way he knows he’s going to have to catch you alone at some point, he must catch up to what he’s missed throughout the years he’s been gone from the living world and even in hell.. although you made it clear the last time you met in hell that you don’t want to see him again he finds it curious how you’re even here at all.

Oh but.. gosh.. how much his little girl has grown.

_________________________________

You were a two months from turning 7 years old now, being adopted almost a year ago was the most prolific moment in your young life. Your grandmother, her real name being Adelaide but you preferred to call her Nana or Grandmama… Nana was better for your little voice to stretch out more easily and faster.

She was always such a darling to you, treating you as if you were one of her own. She told you true most amazing and beautiful stories, shared and sang the most wonderful lullabies and songs that sometimes Alastor would join in on, would make delicious food that you adored throughout your childhood, love you unconditionally the way a grandmother would.

And technically you were hers through papers but sometimes it felt as if it was inconsistent in certain areas.. mostly with Alastor.

Alastor was a peculiar man, as famous and passionate as he was he certainly didn’t have a heart of gold, only open to those he truly cares for like his mother and his radio show. It was as if his heart was surrounded from the sky to the depth of the ground with rusty fences and sharped barbed wire that only allowed very few people and things being let into his life.

You tried to get close to him around this time, bringing him little gifts you made and trinkets you’d find that reminded you of him as a way to get closer.

But he always just smiled at you, gave you a pat, and either said ‘good job’, ‘oh how cute, leave it at my study now won’t you?’ ‘I’m sure your Nana would love it.’ And go right back to what he was doing..

You didn’t understand why that happened— but it seems as if he didn’t bother to get close to you simply because you were a gift to his mother, a granddaughter she wanted to have but he couldn’t give unless through legal assistance,

you were for her to love— not for him to raise.

At least that was the case at this point in time.

It was weird.. you never truly has any terrible or bad interactions but— yet it made you disappointed each time, made you crave for his attention. After all— he’s supposed to be your father. Why wasn’t he paying attention?..

You were currently in your room sitting at your desk, papers scattered with different colored wax and pencils messily thrown around on the surface.

You were drawing something, a gift as a last chance to get him to notice you properly. You even had a special gift that your Nana helped you pick out for him! Surely, your dear dad would notice you now right?

Scribbling the last few finishing touches you then dropped the pen on the table as you exclaimed a little “Aha!” And raising the drawing up high, feeling proud of your masterpiece!

You quickly set the drawing down as you then hopped off your chair to a cower through a little playbox full of toys you had, only to search for one single thing. Once your tiny finally felt the touch of wood and slight metal, you grabbed it and pulled it out with yet again another delightful glee.

It was a small radio shaped wooden charm, the metal being the small little ‘hand’ that moved whenever the radio was operating and transmitting audio frequencies. The perfect gift for papa!

You then quickly grabbed the drawing off your desk, both your gifts in hand your little feet went pitter patter as you ran to the dining room where Alastor was having lunch freshly made by his mother.

Your Nana having recently left the home to get a few emergency groceries, made this a good time for just him and you to connect.

“Papa! papa!” You squealed, Alastor’s brows furrowing at several elements in his surroundings annoying him slightly..

“_____, no running in the house remember? Cant have too much noise disturbing our home.” Despite his scolding you couldn’t help but to just giggle and almost jump in excitement in what you’re planning to give him. He continued “Besides as I have mentioned many times before, call me Al—“

“But papa! Papa!— look!—“ you interrupted him, your voice projecting a bit more into a yell as to have him look at what you have.

“_____, no yelling please dear. I can hear you quite well. I’m not a mile away..”

“Yes papa— b—but!.. look..! I made you something..” you then gently set the drawing up at the table first beside his food. Alastor’s attention finally set on the paper and even stopped eating to look at it. He picked it up.. his eyes inspecting it.

It was a drawing of you and him in a sunny flower meadow in a forest both you and his mother had a picnic in recently, except it was just the both of you here.

The drawing was definitely not the most perfect but it was definitely the cutest. Your scribbles somehow managing to immediately the shape of his hair perfectly, his glasses were visible and his red suit was very on parr with what he would wear on the daily, then there was you— your hair a bit more messily drawn than his and seemed more rushed.. as if you couldn’t yet wait to finish the piece. To top it all off it even had small scribbled words in pencil that said ‘papa’ and ‘me’ and an arrow pointing at each individual figure that fit that description.

Oh how cute.

You stared up at him closely, even for a young kid as yourself you were able to notice the way his usually dark and cold eyes had a twinkle in them, a sort of softness diluting his everyday smile ever so slightly.

It took him a second before you then set the trinket on the table where he picked up the paper from “And this is also for you papa.. nana helped me pick it out for you since I said I wanted to give you a present…”

His eyes darted towards the trinket and even picked it up, inspecting the work and its shapes along with the design of it as a whole. Admiring it almost.

His eyes darted back to the drawing, both hands with both gifts.

“Darling…”

Your little heart ran faster, your hopes were rising up to the heavens. Is he gonna say he was proud?.. he loves it? Adores it?.. hates it?—

“This is cute and all, but don’t forget to draw Nana in next time! She was at that picnic with us too remember!” He exclaimed as he smiled at you in an almost bittersweet way, his softness almost being wiped off entirely.

You frowned, “but.. I made it for you papa.. I’m always with nana so.. I wanted to make something for you!” You smiled fondly at him, trying to still hope for a ‘I’m proud’ from him.

“Aww is that so dear?” He spoke as he then set the gifts on the table on the opposite side of where you were, all while hiding behind a smile.

“Well just don’t forget to add Nana in next time, thank you darling for the lovely gifts.” And just like that he began eating.

Ah.. still the same— reaction. It was a bit better.. it wasn’t just a short and quick sentence at least so that made you smile a bit but.. you expected much more.. a hug, a proud smile.

“Yes, papa…” you then slowly walked off back into your room. A bit down but you weren’t going to let that ruin your smile, Nana always told you and papa to always smile no matter what. So that’s what you’ll keep doing. Even if— your expectations were dearly hurt today.

What you didn’t see was Alastor yet again inspecting the gifts you gave him after you left, a hand tilting it a bit to see it clearly and to have the trinket closer to the figures of the both of you.

His permanent smile’s ends stretched a bit, a ‘hm’ escaping his throat as he took another sip from his black coffee.

He never truly saw himself as your father, never fully taking care of you unless his mother asked him to.

Ah but, it was nice to think that way huh?

(HAIIII THABK YOU FOR READING THISSSS I had lots of fun writing this and omfg I have so many idea for Vox and reader interactions, especially when the plot thickens. But thank you so much for the wait on chapter 1 of this story!! I know the prologue has been awhile but I reallyyyy want to continue this since this is my very first original alastor and daughter fanfic that I’ve written years ago and want to revamp into this!!)

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thetorturedbuckydepartment · 5 months

Text

chapter one: the bolter

pairing: Bucky barnes x plus-sized!reader

summary: Six months ago, you were appointed to be Head Nurse to the Avengers by Tony Stark. Every day, you count your lucky stars, knowing the horrible past you quickly ditched back in England. It holds you back, restrains you, from getting close to anyone when on your new job.

That's until you met and fell in love with Bucky Barnes. The supposed assassin with a heart of gold, who seems to be eager to get to know you. To peel back your layers piece by piece, but could you trust him once you're laid before him raw and vulnerable?

masterlist

warnings: language, self deprecation, mentions of school bullying(?)

word count: 1.6k

A/N: I hope you guys enjoy! I used to write fan fiction a few years back as a weird, lonely teenager, and this is me making a comeback! I have a few original works I like to write, but that's about it. I know a lot of you guys have been waiting for a while, but I hope you enjoy this chapter, and please feel free to comment any plot theories or thoughts! :)

Pathetic fallacy is a fucking bitch. Steve’s been away for a day or two, off to Wakanda, and everyone’s here, faces sour over grey clouds and heavy downpour, busy making preparations for the big day. He says that his best friend is coming home, finally, where he belongs.

Everyone’s heard of this best friend in question — James Buchanan Barnes. Your friends are a bit skeptical, afraid he’ll come with his eyes painted as dark as the night sky and his hair long in some lab rat’s defiance. You can’t help but fear the same.

When you were hired to work as a nurse in the Tower’s infirmary, you’d kept to yourself. It’s a wonder anyone’s wanting to give you a job after the way you were fired from your last one, let alone Tony fucking Stark, taking pity and picking you off the streets of a foreign country. You’re currently perched on a wobbly stepladder, trying your best to not fall headfirst as you stand vulnerable, trying to push the damn pin into the sign that reads Welcome Home, Bucky! In sloppy, maroon handwriting made entirely by you, ever since you heard it was his favourite colour.

You wonder if it could’ve been a poor choice considering the striking resemblance to blood — the same colour as your shirt, white coat long forgotten over the back of the couch in the main communal living area.

“Here, let me help you with that,” comes a gruff voice from beside you.

“Oh no, I’m fine, honestly. Can you go check to see if the quinjet’s landed?” You glance down, and directly into deep blue, entranced by the hypnotic hue. No dark paint, hair cropped messy over the crown of his head. Dressed in a sweater the same colour as yours, and you could’ve sworn it’s like fate.

“Bucky,” you breathed. Bucky? What is he already doing here? He’s not supposed to be for another hour or two? These are just some of your racing thoughts as you examine his face, looking as bright as fucking sunshine. And then you stumble, the ladder giving out from under you and you yelp, expecting to come plummeting to the cold, hard ground. And instead, warm arms envelop you instead, holding you firm to his chest as you struggle to find the words.

“Sorry! Sorry, I don’t usually fall like this I promise.” He looks directly at you, and you register he hasn’t set you down yet, still holding on tightly. He laughs, the vibrations igniting something inside your chest, the flame spreading itself all over your cheeks.

“Don’t worry about it. What’s your name, beautiful?” He gently helps you place your feet on the floor, and you find yourself desperate to cling to his warmth once again but letting him go, blushing at his compliment. As if it couldn’t get any worse, he’s probably a smooth charmer, fuck. You stumble a little bit over your words as you give him your name and he runs it over his tongue.

Has your name always sounded this pretty? Especially spoken in that gruff, heavenly voice of his?

“I, I thought you weren’t supposed to be here for another hour, we’re still setting—.” You look around, only to find the room completely empty and every decoration in its perfect place, save the ladder now laying on its side in one corner. When had everyone finished, and why have they all just left?

“They’re all talking to Steve.” He attaches your name at the end of it like a newly discovered drug he’s desperate for another hit of. You tilt your head, a million questions on the tip of your tongue.

“It was really loud in there. Steve takes all the attention anyway, so I used that moment to sneak out.” Your heart breaks for him. This was supposed to be his party, but you offer him some reassurance instead.

“Well, I know we just met but when they all come piling in here to give you a big hug and bring all the noise with them, you can come to me. I know what it’s like, but for now…welcome home!” You awkwardly gesture to the sign behind you, giving him jazz hands. He chuckles and nods his head in thanks, making you smile.

“Now what’s your favourite baked treat? I heard you like just basic brownies?” His grin only widens. “Yeah, I do love basic brownies.” You gasp in joy, glad to get it right, practically skipping to wrap one and hand it to him.

He tentatively takes it from your hands, ensuring they brush and one more spark flies into the raw distance between you and him, and you don’t miss the way his beautiful ocean eyes flutter at the contact. You clasp your suddenly sweaty palms around each other, patiently waiting for him to take a bite, and the second his pearly teeth dig into the sweet treat in a way that makes your heart run hot, the noise arrives.

A cacophony of shouts and cheers make the both of you flinch as Steve walks up to his best friend, attacking him in a hug. “So happy you’re back Bucky!” And takes a bite out of the brownie in his hand as he turns to me, moaning.

“Did you make this? It tastes amazing, dear.” You beam at his praise, nodding along when your eyes fall back on the ladder, long forgotten in the now crowded room. You wouldn’t say you’re lonely, after all, Natasha and Wanda are some of your best friends in your current situation, but they’re almost always off on missions and all the nurses love to talk about is the Star Spangled Man they’d just die to get in their beds. When you first arrived, you were almost always found silently chuckling in the corner, always wanting what you can’t have. Now, your days are always busy, being jetted off on missions once Tony finished the extensive background check on you and letting you figure out who you work the best with. But still, all the days staying silent and to yourself have left you quite…left out. Even as the masses party around you, you feel oddly still. Stagnant, almost.

“Sorry guys, I’ll be right back, I need to go put the ladder away.” You point, and both super soldiers follow your finger, when Bucky interrupts.

“It looks really heavy, let me carry it for you,” he all but begs, a pleading look in his eyes to be taken away from all this din. You glance at Steve who doesn’t argue, letting his gorgeous friend do whatever the fuck he wants. The look on his face is smug and omniscient, as if privy to a secret you’re on the outside of when he glances between you and Bucky.

You decide to take mercy on his poor soul. “That would be lovely thank you.” You smile politely, moving off in the direction of the bright yellow ladder, trying your best to not stare at Bucky’s bulging muscles rippling beneath his sweater with your mouth so wide open. And to ignore the heat in the pit of your belly at the ease with which he does so, as if the hunk of metal you struggled with for an hour is only a feather to him.

You lead him to the storage room in silence, thinking it best to not overwhelm him with questions in a saccharine tone. “Thank you, I know it’s really heavy.” You stand in the doorway as he walks up to meet you, and you push yourself as hard as you can against the doorframe so he can pass, but he hovers. Inches away from you. You stare up into his beautiful eyes, taking a quiet moment to admire his pulchritude. Full lips more pink than a spring flower, stubble just enough to catch on your hand if you were to touch him. Cheekbones carved by the careful hands of the Gods themselves, so well-versed in human attraction. How is anyone not to fall in love with him when he can haunt you so stunningly?

You’re so lost in him you don’t register the lean of his body closer to you, intent on studying your face right back, hellbent on memorising the constellations of your moles and spots. You swallow dryly, unsure of what to do. Is the tension so palpable that he feels it too? Surely not.

Being the way you are, you’re no stranger to rejection. Or to have nobody feel anything for you in the desolate wasteland of your youth, all the nights you’ve screamed at the sky to feel just one genuine connection and all the days you’ve tried to accept it and move on. It’s not the people around you, they are the understanding ones, and apart from one man, someone is yet to treat you like you fear they would.

But someone is yet to truly love you. To truly want you.

And you highly doubt it’s going to be Bucky Barnes, man whose house can be found in the highest echelons of heaven. Stick to safer things, you try to remind yourself but when your eyes fall back into his, that flies straight out the window. You find yourself not caring, wanting to try anyway. You—

“You’re really pretty, you know that?” The words fly past his lips before he can stop them, and your cheeks turn crimson. Maybe he’s the cruel sort — trying to hook you onto him just so he can laugh when you beg for a fix. At your desperation, at the naive hope you’d hold onto with your dear life that he could feel the same high as you on even the tiniest morsel.

The taunts of children on playgrounds still echo in your ears, all these eons later.

So you do the only thing that feels familiar and right.

You run away, and in your haste miss the longing, confused stare he gives the path you take.

NEXT PART

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes x plus size reader #bucky barnes x reader #x plus size reader #bucky barnes x you #marvel

238 notes · View notes

the-oblivious-writer · 11 months

Text

Let the Light In |6|

Tara Carpenter x Fem!Reader

Chapter Six: Knight In Shining Armor

Summary: Tension rises between you and Tara when you, once again, find yourself protecting her—old habits showing themselves

Warning(s): Swearing, angst, Fr*nkie, grief (if you squint), intoxication, mentions of social anxiety & underage drinking

Notes: Took a while but it's finally here! Also throwing it out there that my face claim for Charlotte is Sofia Wylie

Masterlist|Previous Part|Next Part

Tara was walking down the streets of Manhattan, finally done with her classes for the day. It had been a long week and Tara was just thankful it was finally the weekend. She walked with one earbud in while her other hand subconsciously clenched her keys in her right pocket. It was a habit she had picked up not too long after what happened back in Woodsboro; that plus the pepper spray, taser, whistle, and expandable baton Sam always made her take before leaving the house, meant she was more than ready to defend herself if needed.

As she continued to walk, she felt something fury brush up against her. She looked down to find a gray cat, brushing itself against her. Tara smiled to herself before crouching down to get a better look at the cat. “Hey, there…do you have a name?” She looked for a collar but didn’t find one.

Just then, the sky let out a loud grumble. She looked up at the gray skies then back at the cat, thinking. “I can’t just leave you out here to get drenched. Come on, let me take you home,” she gently picked up the cat, who didn’t protest.

By the time she got home, she was soaked. Her mascara was running and her hair was damp. She was freezing cold; she had wrapped her jacket around the cat so he wouldn’t get wet.

Sam began to walk out from the kitchen as she spoke, “Hey Tar– you’re soaked.”

“Yeah no shit, Sam.”

“Is… Is that a cat?”

“...Yes…” Tara said with a sheepish smile; she had completely forgotten about the ‘needing to convince Sam to keep him’ part.

“Tara, no.”

“Sam, yes.”

Sam sighed as she made a quick trip to the bathroom, coming back with a towel and wrapping it around Tara. “You can barely take care of yourself–”

“Not true!”

“–How do you expect to take care of a whole ass cat?”

Tara rolled her eyes, still holding the cat protectively in her arms. “Come on, I’m not a kid. I can take care of a cat. I’ll buy his food, change his litter box—all that stuff!”

“I don’t know…”

“Please, Sammy,” Tara begged, pouting out her bottom lip. She gave Sam the same look she’d give her whenever she wanted more cookies when they were younger.

“Alright—alright, fine, you win,” Sam huffed and an excited smile broke out on Tara’s face.

“Yes!” Tara looked down at the cat victoriously.

“But Tara, I swear, I better not step in cat shit.”

“No cat shit. Got it.”

—

Dook.

That’s what Tara named her new found cat—named after the Babadook. It had been only a few days since she found him and he’s earned the title of, “my little menace,” from Tara. In the few days Dook has been here he has scratched Chad five times, ripped up Mindy’s sweater in five different spots, and constantly hisses at Sam during the most random times. Why? Sam has no idea, but Tara made the theory it was, “just to mess with her.”

So far, the only person Dook has been even remotely soft to was Tara. She didn’t mind that at all; she enjoyed coming home to Dook’s company—her room feeling less empty than it usually feels.

It was the following Tuesday; she sat not too far from the door as she re-watched Fear Street 1994 while waiting for you. Just as she was about to check her phone for the time, she heard a couple knocks on the door. Before Sam could call out for Tara to answer it, Tara jumped up and made her way to the door. Sam only raised an eyebrow before going back to what she was doing.

Tara counted five seconds in her head before opening the door.

“Took you long enough,” she said with a slight eye roll.

“Afternoon to you too, Carpenter. So, you're gonna let me in or…”

“Well you’re as patient as ever,” Tara remarked sarcastically as she opened the door wider, letting you inside. You placed your bag down, sitting on the couch and taking out your notes as Tara sat a couple cushions over.

“So, I was thinking we could start with Friday’s notes and work our way to today since I couldn’t make Friday—” You suddenly heard Tara let out a dry chuckle, causing you to raise your eyebrows as you looked at her.

“Is there something you’d like to share with the class, Ms. Carpenter?” You quipped, looking up from your papers and at her.

“Oh nothing…just that you’ve been missing a lot of study sessions lately and–”

“I wouldn’t call two a lot–”

“–and I don’t know why I have to suffer through extra work all because you wanna swap spit.”

You let out a dry laugh, looking at the younger Carpenter before realizing she was dead serious.

“Oh—Oh you’re serious? Well, how about those two whole weeks you missed over some petty reason—I don't know what the reasoning was, but I know for a fact it was a hundred percent petty.”

“You know what, screw these notes,” Tara said before grabbing your binder from you.

“Hey—Hey! Wait just a minute there—what are you–?”

“We’re watching a movie,” she informed—not asking—after shutting your binder, putting it somewhere you couldn’t reach unless you stood up and walked to it.

“We're a week and a half behind on study sessions.”

“Not my problem.”

“It’s literally your problem—our problem, actually.”

“Gosh, could you just not stress out for, like, two seconds? You’ll be fine. Now, a little birdy told me you like The Nightmare Before Christmas?” Tara told you, reaching for the remote.

“Yeah… I do.”

“Great. We’ll watch that.”

You didn’t need to know how boring she found the movie; she wasn’t looking at the screen much anyways.

—

Sam sat in her room, reading her book as she enjoyed the silence—wait. It’s silent. Why is it so quiet? It’s never so quiet when you’re over. The most she’s heard in the last thirty minutes were hushed voices, but nothing loud enough she could make out. She suddenly started to think about what could possibly be going on in the other—unsupervised—room. She could no longer concentrate on her book as her protective side took over.

You slightly leaned forward as you watched the screen with all your attention. Tara couldn’t help but wear a small smile when she noticed your intense focus. She pulled out of her gaze when she noticed you make a double take at your foot; just then, she saw a certain furry haired animal brushing up against your leg.

To her surprise, Dook didn’t claw at you. As a matter of fact, he seemed…fond of you?

“Hello, there…” You greeted Dook before gently picking him up. If anybody else had picked him up, they would’ve been clawed at in seconds. Tara furrowed her eyebrows as she watched you interact with her cat; the same cat who’s been an absolute ass to anybody who wasn’t her—well, before now.

You scratched him behind his left ear, causing him to let out a satisfied purr. It was then when you finally said something to Tara. “Since when did you have a cat?”

“Got him pretty recently, actually. He was just roaming the streets of Manhattan and had no collar so that’s how he ended up here.”

“Well, does this adorable face have a name?” You asked, looking at the cat as you complimented him.

Tara failed to fight another smile, showing off her dimples as she answered, “His name’s Dook.”

“Like, Babadook?”

“Yeah…” She watched as you continued to be sweet with Dook; he sat comfortably in your lap, looking a lot less grumpy than he usually is.

Suddenly, Sam abruptly enters the living room, causing Dook to hiss at her before moving back into his original position on your lap.

“Sam, hey. Something wrong?” Tara asked her older sister.

“Uh, I just wanted to check up on you guys; it’s been pretty quiet.”

“Oh, yeah, we decided to watch a movie instead.”

Sam looked at the scene, recognizing the movie—her curiosity increased.

“Nightmare Before Christmas? But I thought you–”

“Have no harsh judgment regarding the movie? Yeah. I know.”

“No, I mean, don’t you find it really bor–”

“Entertaining? Yes, Sam. We know this.” Tara let out a dry cough, hoping Sam would just drop the topic all together.

“Okay…well I’m going to order some pizza. Are you staying over for dinner, Y/N?” Sam inquired, moving on, much to Tara’s relief.

You looked at the time, thinking as you did, before looking at Sam from where you sat. “If it’s no trouble.”

“Of course not. I’ll order it right now,” she said before walking away, pulling out her phone as she did so.

“What was that about?” You asked Tara with a raised eyebrow, referring to what her and Sam were going back and forth about.

Tara opened her mouth, not even sure what she was about to say, when she heard someone knocking. “Oh, I should probably get that,” Tara quickly got up to make her way to the door, relieved at being excused from answering.

“What are you guys doing here?” She immediately asked after opening the door to find Chad, Mindy, Anika and Ethan on the other side of the door.

“Good to see you too, T,” Mindy quipped.

Tara rolled her eyes, “I just mean, I wasn’t expecting you guys today.”

“We made plans last week for movie night.”

“And since it’s my turn to choose, we’re watching 10 Things I Hate About You,” Anika added in a cheery tone.

“Um,” Tara looked over her shoulder to you, before looking back at her friends, “One second.”

“Wait, who were you loo–” Before Chad could finish his question, Tara shut the door, making her way towards you.

“So, uh–”

“Heard the whole thing.”

Tara lightly nodded, holding her wrist in her other hand behind her back as she continued. “Does this mean… you’re going to go?”

You were about to say yes but the words caught in your throat when you finally looked at the expression Tara wore.

You thought for a moment, putting down the bag you were just packing.

“Do you want me to?”

“Well…want’s a strong word–”

“Yes or no, Tara,” you said, looking at her.

Tara mumbled something incoherent, looking away from your gaze.

“You’re gonna have to speak up, mumbles,” you teased the younger Carpenter.

She rolled her eyes, crossing her arms. “I wan—I want you to stay. Happy?” She huffed, not even sure why she puts up with you.

You smile smugly at her, “Fine. ‘Guess I’m staying.”

—

It was awkward—at least, for you, it was. Tara and her friends seemed to get each other, which is great for them, but you felt almost like a chaperone the entire time you were there. You tried to distance yourself as much as possible and when you did find yourself surrounded by the group of friends, you stuck by Anika.

You always found yourself gravitating toward a familiar presence whenever you got caught in social situations like this. You spent most of your own fourteenth birthday party—that you didn’t even want—attached to Henry’s side, following him around like a puppy. You often stuck by people who you found comfort in. You’ve known Henry since daycare years and Anika has been there since she’s entered your life.

You look at the time to see only an hour has passed as you sigh to yourself. Why were you here again?

“Hey,” you heard Tara say, opening her bedroom door to find you on her bed.

Oh, that’s why.

“Hey.”

“You’re not enjoying yourself,” she said as a matter of fact, feeling a little defeated for some reason.

“Hm? Oh no—no this is, uh, great. Yeah, I just love hearing about the same football story over and over again while your curly haired friend continues to make passes at me…so fun,” your voice couldn’t be any more sarcastic. It started out as you wanting to lie, telling her it was going alright—truly! But you can’t help but be your usual sarcastic self, especially around Tara.

“You’re having the worst time ever, aren’t you?”

You looked at her apologetic expression, exhaling as you adjusted your posture a bit. Tara walks over to sit across from you.

“Look…Tar, it’s nothing personal. I’m just—I’m just not good with this stuff.”

“What do you mean?” Tara inquired genuinely.

You sighed, pressing down on your thumbnail with your index finger as you spoke. “I’m not good with…unfamiliarity I guess, or whatever. And—and socializing and all that shit just doesn’t come naturally to me—at least not like it does for people like Anika, and Chad—or you.”

Tara continued to listen to your words, giving you her full attention as you opened up to her. You blinked back at Tara, feeling like you just overshared far too much.

“This was stupid. Forget it.” You got up to leave but just as you reached for the door handle, you felt slender fingers wrap themselves around your wrist.

“It’s not stupid,” you heard Tara speak. You turned your head to look at her. “If you ever want to talk about it more… I’m here. That won’t change.”

You swallowed, taking in Tara’s words as you processed what she was saying. You didn’t trust your voice, only settling for a light nod before leaving Tara’s bedroom.

By the time Tara also left—waiting a couple minutes, wanting to give you some time—you had already made your escape.

When you got home that night, the feeling of dread took over you. It felt like there was barbed wire wrapped around your throat as you tried your hardest not to cry, because you knew if you did there was a chance you’d never stop. Memories of him flashed through your mind as you tried to shake them away, but it was no use. No matter how much you tried to escape it, Dewey's voice continued to ring in your head.

Dewey placed a comforting hand on your shoulder, looking at you with genuine eyes as he spoke, “I’m here. That won’t change.”

—

Tara looked around with furrowed eyebrows, looking at the sea of people. She was currently at a Halloween frat party; she chose to go with a pirate costume this year.

Tara was feeling indecisive about her costume this Halloween but then she got the idea when she remembered something you told her; for your first seven Halloweens, your mom had you dressed up as a pirate. Tara could tell you would not be wearing a pirate costume again any time soon.

Because of your high-sea past, Tara thought dressing up as a pirate would be a fun way to mess with you—well, if you were actually here. You were nowhere in sight. Tara squinted her eyes as she tried looking through the crowd—still no sign of you.

Mindy noticed her friend looking around the room from her seat, which was odd. By this time Tara would be drinking, dancing, or even playing beer pong with Chad—but not sitting down.

Before Mindy could ask anything, Tara turned to Anika, asking her something that answered Mindy’s unspoken question.

“Hey, where’s Y/N?” Tara asked, her voice was slightly raised due to the blaring music.

“At home. She couldn't—or rather refused to make it,” Anika answered the younger Carpenter.

“Oh,” Tara let out, turning to look ahead.

Mindy and Anika glanced at each other, already being on the same page. “Why? Missed her?” Mindy inquired, smirking behind her beer bottle right before taking a sip.

Tara lightly scoffed, “Pfft no.” Tara dramatically rolled her eyes, crossing her arms and leaning back in her chair.

“Y/N?” Tara heard Anika say; she immediately sat up, uncrossing her arms and fixing her demeanor. Her expression instantly dropped when she saw who you were with.

She did not know much about Charlotte. She seemed nice though. Nice enough. Tara heard from Anika that you’ve been “hanging out” with Charlotte for a few weeks now but haven’t exactly assigned labels yet. That made sense; you were never one for labels.

She suddenly snapped out of her gaze when she realized you and Charlotte were walking towards them.

“Hey, guys,” you said in an anything but enthusiastic tone.

“Hey, Y/N. Thought you weren’t coming,” Anika pointed out, not unkindly.

“Me too but this one,” you pointed with your thumb to Charlotte, “is quite the debater.”

“I was captain of the debate team back in high school,” Charlotte smirked.

“Of course you were,” there was a slight teasing tone in your voice as you and Charlotte shared a look. Tara didn’t like that. She didn’t like that at all. You teased her. You gave her looks nobody else knew the meaning behind except you two.

Tara cleared her throat, causing you and Charlotte to look away from each other and at her. “So, you're gonna actually act like you’re here as a college student or a chaperone?” Tara joked and a small but soft smile grazed your face.

“The night’s still young, Carpenter,” you replied, the smile she had been missing never faltering.

“Oh! Daisy’s here, I’m going to say hi. Catch you later?” You heard Charlotte speak from beside you.

You looked over at her and lightly nodded, “Okay.” She placed a quick kiss on your cheek, catching you off guard, before going to her friend.

You sat down in the seat between Tara and Anika—who was sitting in Mindy’s lap—and exhaled, already exhausted from being here.

“You’ve got,” Anika said, pointing to your cheek where there was a lipstick stain. You raised your left hand to your right cheek as your roommate shook her head.

“No the other—” You, once again, completely dodged the spot she was pointing at and Tara groaned.

“Dude, you’re helpless,” she said with an eye roll before reaching over and wiping the spot for you. She softly rubbed your left cheek as you looked at her. It didn’t take long for you to notice how close her face was to yours.

“There…” Tara trailed off, suddenly growing shy when she too realized how close her face was to yours.

Mindy and Anika look at each other before getting up. “We’re gonna dance. You kids behave,” Mindy said before walking away with her arm wrapped around Anika.

“Let me guess… you’re a homicidal maniac?” She looked at your casual attire.

You smiled at her, tilting your head back and turning it to look at her, “You know me too well.”

You both shared a short laugh before it went silent again. Suddenly, you two realized this is the first you’ve both spoken to each other since that night at Tara’s place.

“Hey, so, uh, you didn’t say goodbye…” Tara said sheepishly, refusing to meet your gaze as she played with the hem of her costume. She didn’t have to specify what she was talking about, you just knew.

“Oh yeah, I was just tired so I decided to call it a night.”

Tara nodded understandingly as you looked down at her hands that toyed with the fabric of her costume.

“So…was this,” you gestured to her costume, “planned or…? You both laughed again before she answered you.

“Course’ not. I just…happened to have decided on being a pirate a couple days after you told me your ‘first seven years of dread’ story.” Another laugh was shared between you two.

“Well, you look good,” you complimented. Tara couldn’t fight the heat that rushed to her cheeks as the compliment hit her ears. She was about to respond when suddenly you felt your phone vibrate.

You pulled out your phone, reading the text to yourself before putting it back in your pocket.

“It’s Charlotte, she wants me to meet her by the pool.”

“Oh. Yeah, totally.”

“Don’t get into too much trouble while I’m gone, princess.” You smiled at her as you sat up from your seat, Tara’s head tracked your movement.

“Me? I would never.”

—

One thing.

You asked her for one, very simple, thing. And now? Now, Mindy and Anika were calling you back inside because apparently Tara had the luck of being near Frankie of all people tonight.

By the time you made your way inside—as quickly as you possibly could—you could see Chad also trying to stop the situation. You made your way over to the staircase, appearing from behind Chad.

“Let’s stay down here,” you said—not asking.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t quite catch that,” Frankie said, causing you to let out a humorless chuckle.

“Uh, yeah. Yeah, you did,” you remarked, feeling your hands start to ball up into tight fists. Before you could say anything else, Tara walks down a couple steps and is now standing in front of you as Chad keeps a careful eye on Frankie. “No, Y/N it’s fine. I want to,” you heard her say in a drunken voice. Far too drunk to consent.

Frankie walks down, getting close to your face as he wears a disgusting grin. “Yeah, see Y/N? It’s fine. She wants to.” He turned around, roughly grabbing Tara’s arm. His grip causes Tara to let out a sound of pain, tripping on the stairs.

Without a second thought you pull him by the collar of his shirt, pushing him roughly against the wall; picture frames come crashing down but don’t give them a second look as hear glass shatter.

“Who the fuck do you think you are?!” You pushed your right arm harder against his throat, pinning him against the wall as your free hand tightly gripped his shirt. “Serousily, where the fuck do you get off!”

Chad checked on Tara as you had Frankie pinned to the wall. You wanted to hurt him. You wanted to hurt him so bad. What was stopping you? You could do it. You look down at the shards of glass, itching to grab a piece. Suddenly, you saw that sinister smile. His sinister smile. That’s why you couldn’t.

But when you looked back at Frankie, you quickly forgot about everything that was stopping you. All you had to do was press into his throat a little harder and–

“I got it from here, Y/N.” You turned around to see Sam holding a taser. You immediately got the hint, getting off of Frankie.

“Hi! Sorry to interrupt, I'm just going to tase you really quick,” Sam said before tasing Frankie right in the crotch.

“Fuck!” He dropped to his knees, holding onto his stomach as he groaned in pain.

“You bitch!” He yelled, earning a swift kick between his legs—making the pain worse—from you.

“Watch your mouth,” you said before making your way towards Tara. “You okay?”

“It’s that psycho girl from reddit!” Someone shouted from the crowd that surrounded you.

“Hey, don’t you have something better to do rather than stand around here all day?” Anika shouted at the crowd as Mindy shooed them away.

—

Tara walks ahead of the group as she feels her frustration take over. Sam tries to catch up to her as she calls for her, “Tara, will you stop!” Tara rolls her eyes, refusing to stop as she responds. “I cannot believe you did that, you embarrassed me!”

“I was trying to help you!”

Tara suddenly turns around, “And look what happened!” Her voice raises as it runs hot with anger. “You're out of my life for five years then you can't even leave me alone for five seconds,” Tara shouts with a throw of her arms.

“Because you're not dealing with what happened to us. Have you ever gone to see the counselor at least once?”

You looked at Tara, studying every expression she wore on her face. You wanted her to be okay. You knew it wasn’t that simple, but you still couldn’t help but want it. You hated seeing her like this. You never liked seeing her like this.

You checked up on her when she was at the hospital, relieved she was asleep when you got there. You didn’t want her to think it meant anything. You were just making sure she still had a pulse. Who else would you get into fights with? That’s what you told yourself, 'cause it’s true! You weren't overly concerned or anything. But it was the bare minimum amount of concern to have when you found out somebody you knew was recently used as somebody else's pin cushion.

She’s Tara Carpenter, she’ll bounce back in no time, you told yourself. You can still remember the shock on all her friends' faces when they saw you sitting by her hospital bedside. They entered the room and when you saw them, you immediately stood up.

“Sorry, I just found out about what happened and wanted to check on her.” You put your hands in your pocket, feeling uncomfortable with the eyes on you. You couldn’t tell what was going through their heads. “But she’s breathing, so I’ll get going now.” When you’re about to walk out the door, Chad puts his hand on your shoulder which causes you to stop. Was he about to punch you? “You’re welcome to stay, dude.” Oh.

You were welcome to stay. Did you want to?

You shook your head,“No, it’s okay. You guys should spend your time with her—unbothered.” You said before walking out of the hospital, not waiting for a response.

Maybe you cared little more than you’d ever admit.

You snap out of your thoughts as you hear Tara’s voice again.

“Because I know what mine is—I’m going to get my degree, become a lawyer, and live my life, my life,” Tara’s voice was firm. Certain.

—

Two soft knocks could be heard from the other side of the door. Tara was about to tell whoever it was to go away, but then she realized who those knocks belonged to.

“Come in.”

“Hey,” you greeted, carrying a bottle of ibuprofen and a cup of water.

“Hey,” she replied, head tracking your movement as you put the items down and got closer to where she sat at the edge of her bed.

“Mind if I…” You gestured to the open spot next to her and she patted it. You sat down, knees touching hers as you looked down at your hands that rested in your lap. Tara’s gaze from you only broke when she felt the feeling of embarrassment all over again.

You noticed a change in her demeanor, causing you to finally glance at her. “I don’t think she meant for to…make you feel embarrassed or anything,” you tried to comfort. You were never good at this kind of stuff.

“I know… I just—I just completely embarrassed myself out there. You guys probably think a lot less of me now…”

You lightly nudge her shoulder, getting her to look at you again. “Hey, no, okay? We just wanna make sure you're safe,” your facial expression matched your honest tone as you spoke.

Tara turned her head away, a smirk slowly growing on her face. She turned back to look at you, ignoring how close your faces were. “We?”

You rolled your eyes as Tara kept hers on you, smirk never falling. “Don’t let it get to that big ass ego of yours.”

“Aww, you caree about me,” Tara teased. You felt your cheeks warm up as you grew flustered.

“I care about you the—bare minimum amount,” you said unconvincingly.

Tara shoved you a bit, “Liar.”

You shoved her back, “Most honest person you’ll ever meet.”

Tara shoved you back again. “Liar.”

“Oh, you really wanna play this game?” You inquired, turning your head to her.

Tara still smirked as she responded, “I could do this all night.”

Your faces were, once again, inches apart. Tara’s eye line meets your lips as tension builds in the room. Then suddenly the door opens, causing you and Tara to pull apart.

“Oops, sorry I didn’t mean to cock block you,” Quinn said as you and Tara silently cringed.

“Please...don't say cock," Tara said while slightly grimacing.

Quinn shrugged then looked at you. “Don’t believe we’ve officially met. I’m Quinn,” she held out her hand. You glanced at Tara before accepting the red head’s hand.

“I’m–”

“Y/N? Yeah, I’ve heard lots about you.” You couldn’t tell what that could’ve meant, not noticing the shared look between Quinn and Tara.

“Don’t you have, like, a guy to see or something?” Tara asked, trying to get Quinn out of here as soon as possible.

“Well, Tara’s right, I should get going,” Quinn said, immediately getting the hint. “See you around, Y/N,” she winked at you.

“That was…” You trailed off, not able to meet Tara’s gaze.

“Embarrassing? Oh, extremely.”

—

“Is Tara okay?” Charlotte asked over the phone. You held your phone to your ear as you grabbed a box of leftover pizza from the fridge with one arm.

“She will be…” You thought about the younger Carpenter as you spoke.

“I’m glad.” There was a beat of silence before she spoke again. “I uh… didn’t know you could fight like that.”

“What do you mean?” You placed the box on the table, sitting down.

“You had Frankie pinned. A man with his frame and build was completely defenseless under your hands. It was impressive,” her last words came with a flirty tone.

“Oh, yeah?” You decided to match her tone.

“Yeah… Do you want to come over tomorrow? My roommate's visiting his boyfriend so I’ll be pretty lonely—some company would be nice."

You bit your bottom lip, thinking as you looked at your calendar. “Yeah—yeah, that works. What time should I stop by?”

“Six good?”

You looked at your calendar again.

“Can’t do six…” You said, looking at Tara’s name on your calendar. “How about eight?”

“Sounds good. I’ll see you then, super soldier.”

You let out a light laugh, “Yeah, yeah. See you then.”

—

Tara was on the phone with Mindy, intensely debating over American Psycho, when she heard a couple knocks on the door.

She got up from the couch as she said goodbye to Mindy, hanging up. She opened the door to see you standing there with your bag on your shoulder.

“Hey.”

Tara realized it had been a full ten seconds since she opened the door. She moved to let you inside, and you sat in your usual spot.

“So, what’s on the agenda today?” Tara inquired as she sat, hugging her knees.

“He didn’t really give us much to work with on Friday so, uh, just whatever we missed last time,” you said, not even looking at her as you looked around your stuff.

“Looking for something?”

“Yeah my pen. It was here five seconds ago–”

“This pen?” Tara said, pulling something from behind your ear. You looked at her and realized she was holding your pen. She hands it to you as you let out a timid chuckle, embarrassed at your lack of attention.

“Are you…alright?” She asked, looking at your features as you spoke.

“It’s just exams and stuff. I’ve kind of been all over the place trying to prepare—but that’s why I’m here. To study. So let’s begin,” you pull out your binder, flipping to the right folder.

Tara hesitantly followed along, keeping an eye on you.

After an hour and a half, you looked at the time and silently cursed as you got up and gathered your things.

“Leaving already?”

“Yeah, I’m meeting Charlotte around eight. So, I gotta get going,” you packed everything, racking your brain for anything else you could be forgetting.

“Oh..okay…”

You turned to look at Tara, “What is it?”

She cleared her throat, slightly shaking her head. “Nothing, have fun—oh, and don’t forget your pen,” she dismissed as she held up said pen to you.

You wear an embarrassed tight lipped smile, slowly taking the pen from her. “Thanks,” you put the pen in your bag before zippering it up.

“Uh, hey,” you heard Tara call out.

You stopped your movement, turning back to Tara. “See you later?”

You lightly nodded, a small smile on your face. “Of course.”

—

Tara found herself blasting Lana Del Rey as she wore a pout. Why was she wearing a pout? She had no idea. It was just there, and for some reason she was in a sour mood. She also knew she despised you. Possibly more than she did before; she was just starting to adjust then you had to go and make things even more confusing for her.

Tara looked at her ceiling as she laid in her bed, petting Dook who rested beside her. She suddenly remembered the beer in the fridge.

Sam was in therapy, Quinn was seeing another one of her hookups—what’s the harm?

Five beer cans later and she was more than buzzed. The urge to call you was getting harder and harder to resist with each can. She knew she shouldn’t, but she just couldn’t stop herself from opening your contact.

“Tara?” You asked, confused as to why she’s calling you so randomly.

“Y/NN,” she slurred into the phone. “Have I ever told you you’re so gorgeous it actually hurts?”

“I—uh, where are you right now?”

“Hommee. Where else?” She said, followed by a hiccup.

“I’m coming over.”

—

You knocked two times; you could hear Tara struggling with the door knob from the other side before finally opening it.

“What are you doing here?” Tara inquired with a raised eyebrow. It seemed she forgot about your call from just ten minutes ago.

“Goodness, you’re drunk.”

“I am not drunk.”

“Oh, yeah? Then tell the time,” you crossed your arms as you looked at her. She turned to the nearby clock, “I am not drunk!” She literally told it.

“Jesus,” you pinched the bridge of your nose. “Come on, let’s get you to bed,” you walked over to her but then unexpectedly felt a shove to your chest.

“I don’t—I don’t need your help.”

You exhaled, knowing all too well about the venomous look she wore. “You don’t mean that, come on.”

“I do! I don’t even want you here,” she slurred as she shoved your chest again.

“Too bad then. Cause’ I’m not leaving you like this.”

Tara had used up all the energy she had left to shove you, so she couldn’t even fight you off as you tried to walk her to her bedroom.

“Fuck you,” she gritted.

“I know.”

“No. You don’t know!” Tara yelled. “I don’t need a knight in shining armor,” she continued as you looked down at her. “I’m not a princess who has to be saved all the time.”

“Come on, I know you’re no–”

“This is what you do,” she pulled her arm away from you, “you just swoop in when everything’s fine and completely ruin shit. You think you’re pleasant to be around? Just when I think I have my life figured out, you have to come in and ruin it,” Tara spoke with pure conviction, no slurring in her voice.

“I—I don’t know what to say.”

She let out a dry laugh before saying, “When do you ever.”

“You’re drunk, Tara… Please just let me get you to bed so you don't say anything else you’ll regret in the morning.”

“I don’t regret anything—and I’ll bring my own ass to bed.”

“Okay,” you softly said. You watched as she walked down the hall and to her bedroom. You waited a few minutes, getting the ibuprofen and water ready, before entering her bedroom carefully. Just as suspected, she was already asleep. You silently place the medicine and water on her nightstand before looking at her resting demeanor.

Oh Tara, what am I gonna do with you?

-----------

A/N: I 100% know you guys aren't expecting the family member reveal I'm gonna do for R at some point (clues are scattered...)

Taglist: @t-wylia @lesbianpepsi @jennasfav @alyciaddict @justafoolinlove @steffido1993 @niqmandu @severelyuniquereview @darklron @ravenousinferno @smut-religiously777 @beautifulmongerbanditsalad @vanatalye @alexkolax @andsoigotabutterfly

#tara carpenter x female reader #tara carpenter x reader #tara carpenter x you #tara carpenter x y/n #tara carpenter x fem!reader #tara x reader #tara carpenter #jenna ortega x reader #jenna ortega #jenna marie ortega #scream fic #let the light in au

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coulsart · 7 months

Text

About the Unknown

I have a theory. A game theory. And we're going to ignore the fact that delving into this would put me on the Unknown's shit list IMMEDIATELY. It’s fine.

Disclaimer: I do not know what’s canon, and they kept it intentionally vague. Everyone’s valid to have their head canons and this is just the explanation my brain conjured up.

"The Unknown was believed to be a mysterious evil so heinous that investigating it almost immediately invited death. At least that was how the story went. And there were many stories. One story was of a woman in Greenville who disappeared without a trace on stage in front of a room full of witnesses. Her friend disappeared weeks later while trying to investigate what happened. The police were stumped. They had no clues or leads, and that mystery created the perfect storm for amplifying and spreading an urban legend." An excerpt from the very beginning of the official lore page

I want to focus on a few key words here. It was believed to be heinously evil. There were stories about disappearances. Said mysterious stories spread and amplified the urban legend.

The Unknown gains power from people's beliefs and thoughts about it. Not too unlike Pennywise from 'IT'. But there's a catch.

People theorize that it might be an alien, a curse, a cult-created abomination, or just a really elusive serial killer... but it is all of those things. Because people believe that it is.

It doesn't have control over what it is. It's a horrible hodge-podge monstrosity of many things, seemingly mashed and twisted together violently. It likely started as something completely different, or nothing at all. Maybe a vague presence that only observed. But people could feel the presence. And while neither good nor evil, the peoples' minds conjured up visions, explanations of what it might be. Some imagined it to be a man lurking in the shadows. Watching and stalking them. And so the Unknown's body began to form. First as a man. Even still, with this new body, it was inherently off. Uncanny from the start. The Unknown was at its core so far removed from humanity that it still could not pass as one of us. So it would linger in the forest, only venturing to the threshold between town and woods.

Maybe an unfortunate camper happened upon it at night. This shadow in the dark, distinctly the shape of a man. But what does one think first, encountering a strange man in the dead of night? All alone and isolated in the deep woods?

"He's going to kill me with a knife, or an ax!"

And so it did. Because they believed it would.

It only snowballed from there, after the body was found, only a few paces away from their untouched tent. There was no evidence left. No DNA, no footprints to follow. Just a bloodied body, with a skull cloven almost completely in twain; by what was suspected to be an ax. So the theories began.

No one could explain the lack of evidence left behind. It was too perfect, too efficient. And what were the chances of a normal man doing such damage in only a single swing?

More murders followed. At first, people started disappearing, their bodies later being found in the woods, not far from the first victim. They grew increasingly more mangled, to the point that authorities began to question whether it was done by a man, or an animal.

The people became afraid. Paranoid that this insane ax murderer would tire of the woods and enter their homes at night, while they were resting peacefully in bed. The fears were beginning to surpass that of just a serial killer. The Unknown was beginning to become more of a boogeyman figure to them. No human man could have committed such gruesome killings.

People began to disappear from their homes at night. Then the streets. Then the cafe and theater. Then... sometimes in broad daylight. Its territory only grew. Its abilities more and more vast and unpredictable. The theories only escalated... and throughout its rampage, the Unknown grew increasingly monstrous. Its humanoid body twisted and contorted to fit the peoples' beliefs. But nothing was erased - only added on. Which is why it existed in the horrific state that it did.

A body can only fit so much substance inside without tearing itself apart. Without becoming an deformed, unstable, and agonizing vessel to pilot and exist in.

Human beings did this to it. Human beings made what it was. They assumed the worst of it, and it became that.

So naturally, it became hateful and bitter. It loathes humans. They did this. It lives in constant agony and isolation because of them... only for the crime of observing and existing in their vicinity. That's why it killed the ones who dive deeper into its existence and theorize about what it is. They kept making it worse. Inflicting more pain upon it and twisting its body further and further.

It mirrors humans' own words to them. Snippets of conversation, pleas for help. It does not truly have its own voice. It only has what others have spoken about it, and around it.

But its feelings towards human beings are clear, based on its words. Especially in its memento mori. "The terror. The horror. Terribly frightening, isn't it." The way it parrots their words in this case almost seems vindictive and sarcastic. These are all things that human beings have said about it.

Thought outside of what it's been made into became increasingly difficult. Yet, somehow, the Unknown is vaguely aware of this fact: it could have been spared this horrific existence, had human beings chosen differently.

And for the Unknown, it only got worse when the Entity stole it away. It begged and pleaded for help - ironically, seeking it from that which it loathed most. A human being. It was torn from our world and plunged into the never ending loop that are Her trials. All for the sake of feeding Her appetite for suffering and torment. And it isn't only at the survivors' expense. It is at the expense of the Unknown as well. It suffers just as much as they... if not more. They at least have companions to rely on - with varying results, of course. It has nobody.

All hope for it healing is lost. The survivors have no reason not to think it a ruthless, horrific monster. And in turn, it has no reason not to hate and slaughter them.

Thank you for coming to my Ted Talk.

#couls art #theory #dbd #dead by daylight #the unknown #the unknown dbd #body horror #horror #gore #death mention #death #tw #long post #TRAGIC MONSTER IS MY SAUCE OK #IM REALLY PROUD OF THIS #also the pics are glazed and nightshaded so i hope they dont look too weird #itd be kewl if the devs saw this

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valerie-is-in-the-cupboard · 2 months

Text

Out of Darkness - Chapter Six: The Beginning of the End - Alastor x human!fem!reader

Go to the table of contents.

I haven't checked it, so if there are any mistakes (of any kind), I apologise and I'll check everything again later today. Also, I’m unsure if the assistant’s name is actually Papermint—it's a detail I might have picked up somewhere and now find myself stuck with. I wanted to let you know that I’ll be away for about a week and won’t be able to post during that time. There’s a chance I might manage to write and share the NSFW continuation tomorrow if I have time, but I can't make any promises. I hope you enjoy this chapter in the meantime, dearies <3

Words: ~3120

TW: cursing

It’s been a year since Alastor’s sudden disappearance from Hell, his broadcasts failing from making sinners shiver in fear upon hearing them. The silence left everyone wondering where he could be, not a single possible scenario making people feel safe – if he died, who dared to kill him? If he didn’t die, what was he plotting? People were afraid of sharing their theories, every shadow feeling like a little spy, ready to tell Alastor who dares to talk behind his. All people except one…

“It’s been nearly a year since that old-timey prick vanished!” Vox’s voice thundered through Pentagram City, brimming with derision. His broadcasts had become a daily reminder of Alastor’s absence, taunting and mocking the fear he once inspired. “Is he dead? Is he hiding? Who gives a fuck?!” His laughter, a sharp, jagged sound, reverberated through the streets. Vox relished in his rival’s silence, finding a twisted pleasure in the void left behind.

The Overlords, however, were far from pleased with Vox’s indiscretions. Though they rarely voiced their concerns, the underlying fear of Alastor’s potential return kept them in check. They understood that Alastor’s influence had been a stabilizing force, and with him possibly gone for good, they dreaded the chaos that could ensue if their grip on power faltered.

“Darling, would you please close the door?” Rosie asked one of her clients, an annoyed look on her face. “I wish that good-for-nothing demon would just shut up…” she said harshly.

“Are you alright, dear Rosie?” a woman asked, making her sigh.

“Oh, yes, honey… I can’t help but wonder just like the others what happened to dear Alastor…” she faked a little laugh, arranging the shelves in the emporium. She quickly turned to the door, hearing people screaming outside. Everyone rushed to see what was happening, Rosie making her way through the curious people.

“I saw him!” a trembling demon cried out, drawing a wide circle of frightened onlookers. His appearance was a grotesque sight—his flesh was torn, blood oozing from fresh, gaping wounds. His eyes, wild and frantic, darted among the crowd. “Alastor’s alive!” he shrieked, his voice a raw edge of terror. Gasps of shock spread through the crowd, some fleeing in panic. “He’s in the human world! And he’s powerful! He’s going to destroy us all!” His dire warning sent waves of fear through the masses.

Everyone looked in shock.

“How do you know?” someone from the crowd shouted.

“I just returned! I was about to die at the hands of human priests, but I saw him! I swear it was him!”

Rosie looked at him, her eyes wide in shock. Alastor was alive. But if he was so strong, why didn’t he return? She looked at the crowd and spotted one of Vox’s assistants, a sense of worry flashing over her… This was not going to be good.

As expected, later that day, Vox demanded the Overlords to hold a meeting. Without much of a choice, they all gathered, curious of what Vox wanted to say.

“Good evening, fellas!” Vox said a wide grin on his face. Valentino was sitting next to him, a smirk on his face as he already knew what the meeting was going to be about. Behind them stood two assistants, trembling, and holding some pieces of paper. “I bet you’ve all heard the shocking news, right?”

“Yes, Vox… You broadcasted that psycho all over Pentagram City…” Carmilla said, her eye twitching in annoyance. “If this is going to be about Alastor again…”

“No, no… I mean, yes. But this time is important!” Vox declared. The other Overlords looked at Vox with curiosity as he talked… everyone was eager to know what this ‘important’ thing was that Vox wanted to tell them about. But Carmilla seemed to know what the meeting was going to be about already, the look on her face clearly telling that she really didn’t want to be there right now, that she was annoyed and impatient… Carmilla knew that he lived for the attention, but she didn't care all that much about it. If he left her and her business alone, he could say or do what he wanted.

“My assistant here managed to talk to the demon from earlier and he has some… information.” Vox continued, his smile never leaving his face. “Papermint! Go on!”

The little demon came a little closer, his whole body trembling. Valentino shot the demon a menacing look, as Vox became more and more impatient.

“Stop shaking like a scared animal and get on with it,” Valentino muttered with a roll of his eyes.

Carmilla rolled her eyes again, barely paying attention to the assistant's shaking. She had to admit that even though Valentino and Vox were both pompous, obnoxious, and arrogant, at least Valentino was a lot more direct and to the point than his partner. Vox always seemed to waste everyone's time with his grand entrances.

She let out an impatient sigh. "Can we get on with this, please? I have actual business to attend to."

The little demon gulped and tried to gather some courage, his nervous fingers trying to flip over the sheet of paper. He glanced at Vox, who was giving him a cold stare that screamed “I’ll make your life a living hell if you continue this way.” The little demon looked back at the paper, quickly flipping it to the other side. “Yes! Uh… So, I talked to the demon… And apparently, Alastor was in his human form and he didn’t seem weakened at all.”

“See?” Vox said, waiting for a reaction from the others. “You know what this means?”

"No, pray tell." A rather snide voice chimed in. Carmilla did not have the time for Vox and to be frank he irritated her to no end. She leaned forward on the stand, giving Vox a pointed stare. To say she disapproved of this little meeting would be the understatement of the year.

“It means that we can all go back! We can get strong there! Conquer the human world!” Vox said, Valentino, chuckling quietly behind him.

“You’re insane, Vox. Plain and simple insane.” Carmilla scoffed with an eye roll.

Zestial took one look at Vox and chuckled. This was going to be an interesting conversation it seemed. "What makes you think you are going to conquer anything but a grave?!" Zestial shouted at the sinner. "The human world is full of priests and hunters that will kill all of us before we regain our strength.”

“Oh, come on!” Vox shouted. “The prick did it! Why can’t we do it?”

“We don’t even know if it was him!” Rosie said and Vox angrily looked at his assistant, signaling him to continue reading.

“Uhm, the man said… ‘it smelled like death and suffering and he threatened a human he’ll destroy his soul’.” All the Overlords stopped for a moment.

“It does sound like him…” another one admitted.

“I agree with Vox.” Everyone looked towards the cat overlord. “Besides, the human world would mean more souls for us,” Husk said a sly smile on his face.

“See?!” Vox said, exasperation in his voice.

“No. We cannot risk it. The meeting is over.” Carmilla decided and got up, followed by the other overlords.

“Fuck you all! You’re all pussies! Cowards!” Vox shouted at them as he stormed out of the room, followed by Valentino and Papermint. But his other assistant noticed Carmilla and Zestial leaving together and decided to follow them.

“Don’t be so angry, dear friend…�� Zestial told Carmilla. “They will never be able to do it.”

Carmilla sighed, looking out the window. “They can’t find out, Zestial… If they know portals can be opened by us-“she started, but quickly stopped, feeling a presence around her. “We’ll talk later…” she said, and the two demons parted ways. The little assistant ran as fast as he could. He had to tell Vox and the thought of a raise filled his mind.

Suddenly, a blinding light engulfed him, and a horrible pain struck through his body, making him scream in agony as darkness embraced him.

The door of (y/n)’s apartment opened forcefully. She entered with a wide smile on her face, Alastor following quickly, his arms full of bags and boxes. He closed the door behind him with his foot, his gaze never leaving the girl.

“Your friends surely brought a lot of gifts.” He said, placing them on the coffee table in the living room. (Y/n) came closer to him, a smirk on her face. “What?” Alastor asked, his smile never leaving.

“You did it!” she said accusingly.

"I have absolutely no idea what you're talking about, my dear," he said innocently, trying to feign ignorance.

“The surprise party?! Oh come on, you can’t lie to me!”

“What? You are accusing me of things I have never even thought about, darling!” he laughed. (Y/n) tried to hug him but stopped, looking up at him for approval. “Go ahead, my dear. I won't bite," he said, his usual smirk still in place. (Y/n) hugged him, a shiver running down his spine. He started getting accustomed to her being touchy with him, but it still made his brain freeze for a moment whenever she would do it.

“Thank you…” she said, her voice soft and full of adoration. She looked up at him. “Aren’t you mad we didn’t spend my 23rd birthday together as planned?”

Alastor chuckled softly, his hands finding their way to her hips as she looked up at him. “Oh, darling, the night is still young.” He assured her.

"It was the best gift, Al." Alastor's smile widened a hint of warmth in his eyes. He relished the genuine happiness in her voice, it was a soothing sound to him.

"Anything for you, my dear," he said softly, gently pulling her closer to him. "Besides... it's not the last gift for tonight."

(Y/n)’s eyes became wider at the statement. “What else is there?” She asked, caressing his cheek with one hand.

"Now, now. Telling you would ruin the surprise, wouldn't it?" he teased, a smirk tugging at the corners of his lips. Alastor leaned in, pulling one of her rings out of his pocket.

“My ring!” She said excitedly. “I’ve been looking for it for one week!”

“I know, darling. I needed it for something.”

She raised a brow. "What for?" Alastor's eyes sparkled with a hint of mystery as he wrapped an arm around her waist, pulling her closer to him.

"I needed it to measure something... But you don’t need to worry, really." he teased, pressing a gentle kiss to her forehead.

"No, no. You have to tell me now!" she smiled at him, excited to find out what he needed it for. Alastor chuckled again, admiring the curiosity sparking in her eyes. He enjoyed the small moments like this, teasing and bantering with her.

"You're not going to rest until you find out, are you?" he asked, a smirk on his face. Alastor sighed dramatically, pretending to be annoyed, but his smile betrayed him. He loved seeing her this excited.

"Fine, I suppose I can tell you." he relented. "But you have to close your eyes first." (Y/n) did as told, not being able to hold back her giggling. "Okay, now stay still and keep those pretty eyes closed, my dear," he said his voice soft and smooth. Alastor walked behind her, his arms wrapping around her waist from the back. "Just a moment, darling," he whispered into her ear, his breath warm against her skin. He reached into his pocket, retrieving an object she couldn't see. The item was small but very valuable to him. He held it gently in his hand, before slowly bringing it up in front of her. "You can open your eyes now," he murmured, his voice filled with anticipation and affection. She opened her eyes, a golden ring in front of her. The ring's band was crafted from polished silver, its surface gleaming with a mirror-like finish that caught the light beautifully. At the centre of the ring was a single, mesmerizing stone—a deep, vibrant red that sparkled like a firework in the dusk. The red gemstone was cut into a perfect oval, its facets catching the light and sending out flashes of crimson and scarlet. It seemed to hold a fiery intensity as if a piece of sunset had been captured and set within the ring.

“Alastor… what is this?” she asked, not sure what to expect.

Alastor's eyes never left her face, gauging her reaction. "It's a symbol. A promise," he said softly, his voice filled with sincerity. "A promise to always be by your side, to protect and cherish you... to love you." (y/n) looked away from the ring and turned to him. She looked down, fidgeting with his vest, her heartbeat increasing dramatically.

"What are you saying, Al?" she asked.

Alastor cupped her face in his hands, tilting her chin up to meet his gaze. His expression was serious, his eyes fixed on hers, holding a mixture of passion and tenderness.

"I'm not saying anything, my dearest," he murmured, his voice soft and velvety. "I'm asking you something.” He took a deep breath, his heart beating faster than he thought possible. "Will you spend eternity with me, darling?"

(Y/n) looked at him, a smile creeping on her face, but slowly faltering. She took his hands in hers. "Al, are you sure? It's only been a year... What if it's not what... you want?"

Alastor's expression softened at her question, his heart melting at her concern for his happiness. He caressed her hands gently, his touch filled with reassurance. "My love, time is just a mere measure," he said, a slight smile playing on his lips. "And I'm certain that there is nothing in the world I want more than spending my eternity with you by my side." (Y/n) smiled at his words, tears in her eyes.

"Then I want this too, Alastor..."

Alastor's smile widened, relief flooding his heart. He pulled her into a tight embrace, his arms wrapping around her like a protective shield. He buried his face in the crook of her neck, breathing in the sweet scent of her hair. "Thank you," he whispered, his voice filled with a mix of happiness and gratitude. "You have no idea what this means to me, darling."

The demon woke up after what seemed like an eternity, his body aching with every movement. He was surrounded by trash, cold engulfing him.

“What the fuck…?” he asked himself, looking around. He scratched his head, but realization quickly hit him. With disgust, he realized he was back in his human form. “Ah, fucking shit…” he whispered. He entered a portal by mistake and returned to the human world.

The demon stood up, trying his best to find balance, a strong smell invading his nose: death and agony. He opened his eyes wide – Alastor was close. A sense of fear engulfed him, but then an idea popped into his mind. If he found Alastor and gathered information, it was just a matter of time until he could return to Hell. And Vox will promote him. A mischievous grin appeared on his face and for a moment he seemed to forget about the pain too.

He followed the smell, hiding in every shadow. He couldn’t risk being seen by a human or worse… by Alastor. By no means he could protect himself in this state.

With slow steps, he entered a building, the smell guiding him to a door. Adrenaline pumped his veins as he knocked on the big wooden door. His feet were burning, ready to run if Alastor opened the door but to his surprise, he didn’t. Instead, (y/n) appeared in the doorframe, the human scent intoxicating the demon.

“Oh, well, hello miss.” He said, looking at her, a sly smile on his face. (Y/n) looked at the demon, disguised as a human. He looked scrawny, with white dirty hair covering his forehead. She gagged at the smell of trash and slammed the door shut in his face. The man started pounding on the door. “Open up you little bitch! I’m gonna-“

The door opened once again, and the man jumped back at the sight. Alastor stood in the doorway, a wide smile on his face as he slowly closed the door behind him, stepping towards the demon.

“Well, well, well… Look what we have here…” The lights started flickering as Alastor’s human form began to disappear. His eyes were glowing red, in the form of radio dials and his body towered over the demon, sharp teeth making him shiver in fear. “Now who exactly do you think you’re calling a ‘bitch’?”

“Al… Alastor… I’m…” the demon started, his voice trembling. “Please don’t kill me!” he begged.

“Now, tell me – Why wouldn’t I?”

“I know something! Something that might interest you!” the demon shouted.

“Hmm… Interesting… And what would that be?” Alastor said, his interest growing for a bit.

“I can tell you like it here… What about that: I tell you how to open portals to this world anytime you want so you can leave and come back… And you let me live!” Alastor came closer to him, thinking about it.

“And how exactly can one do such things?”

“I… I don’t know…” The demon admitted, making Alastor growl angrily. “But I can find out! I’ve heard Carmilla and Zestial talk about it.”

Alastor’s form shrank, his gaze still fixed on the demon. “Agreed. We have a deal,” Alastor said, his tone cold and calculating. “But remember, this must remain confidential. If I discover you’ve leaked any information…” He let the threat hang in the air, his gaze unwavering and menacing.

“I won’t!” the demon assured him. “There’s one more thing… I need you to open a portal for me to go back. I am too weak to do so.”

Alastor extended his hand, green flames burning around it. “Fine…” he said, waiting for a name.

“Zariah.”

“Well done, Zariah. You’ve got yourself a deal.” The two shook their hands and Alastor’s human form returned. “Now, meet me here tomorrow morning and I’ll open that portal for you… if you survive the night, of course…” Alastor finished, returning to the apartment laughing, as Zariah returned to the shadows of the night.

“Al? Are you ok?” (Y/n) ran to him as he entered the door, inspecting him.

“I’m fine, dear.”

“What did he want?”

“Ah, you know how these junkies are…” Alastor said and kissed her forehead. “I think he got the idea…”

He wrapped an arm around her, pulling her closer. “Now, where were we…?”

Tags: @sirens-and-moonflowers, @ratsematary, @xalygatorx, @princessvampxx

Go to: NSFW Part (Ch. 6.5), Chapter Seven

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