#i want more!!!! i want to see what the original vision was
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@sincerely-sofie I will try and make some more Shadow Virus or Body Swap AU chapters after this one. I promise. (Unless I have another good idea lol)
Grovyle is Tired
Keeping track of infinity is pretty difficult when the most formative years of your life were defined by finite things.
Grovyle walked through the ever-shifting, halls of the space between time. Yawning so hard that it made him feel light-headed.
Grovyle pulled out his notes from the satchel he wore. And yawned again. He irately pulled out a chesto berry to eat as well.
He stared at the notes while taking bites out of the berry. His vision was blurred from sleepiness, but it quickly dissipated as he took more bites of the disgusting, overripe fruit.
Ugh, he remembered a time when those were his favorites. But now he felt like puking whenever he even thought of the taste.
Still better than Lum berries.
He briefly reminisced of a time when his notes were much more specific. Diving into excruciating detail of when and ‘where’ timelines were located. Taking note of every possible danger he might face.
Nowadays, it was just a few, hastily written bullet points.
He figured he didn't need to write down the ‘where’ of the timelines, he only messed up one other time. And that also led to another timeline being fixed, so whatever.
This timeline had something written down about an apocalypse that turns mortals into mindless monsters? He didn't really care that much. It's just another job.
It's not something Grovyle likes. Far from it. He hates it.
It's rotten work, but it needs to be done.
Grovyle yawned again as he approximated where the timeline was. His thoughts briefly shifted to wondering if he could take a nap with how all the timelines in danger of crumbling have a while before he needed to fix them.
The passage between times opened. Grovyle stepped in, briefly thinking of sleep and of how Twig would take naps near him. Back when he wasn't a legend.
*********
Grovyle stepped out. Late at night. His eyes took a moment to adjust.
He's standing near the entrance to Sharpedo Bluff. Right on the edge of Treasure Town.
But, things weren't what he expected. The town looked a lot bigger than what he would have expected from a timeline plunged into an apocalypse.
The passage closed behind him. The lack of a light source from it lent better to his vision.
In fact, from this far away, he could see lights in some of the windows.
He'd learned a long time ago to never assume anything, but seeing Treasure Town in a similar state to how it was when he left his original timeline, in a timeline that had supposedly been ruined beyond repair…
It didn't make any sense-
“Clover?” A soft, shaking voice asked behind him.
Grovyle's heart leapt in his chest. He spun around and was face-to-face with a mega Charizard.
Why was she mega evolved? Was she wanting to fight him? Why was her tail flame a dark maroon color? Were those spikes around her neck?
… Why were there tears in her eyes?
“Clover? Is- is that really you?” She asked. Her voice shaking, tears started streaming down her face.
Ah.
He'd recognize her voice anywhere.
This is Twig. Or someone with Twig's voice at least.
Why did she look like this?
… On second thought that's not any of his business.
“Look. I'm-”
Grovyle barely got started when she bolted forward and wrapped him in a tight hug.
“Oh Arceus! I've missed you so much!" She sobbed.
Grovyle stood there for a moment, letting her hug him. Before he pushed her away.
Grovyle stared at the ground, even though he knew the way she was looking at him.
“Clover?”
Grovyle folded his arms and sighed. “I hate explaining this.” He muttered under his breath.
He looked at her.
“Twig, right?” He asked.
She blinked in surprise. Then nodded.
He pinched the bridge of his nose. “Right. Of course you are.” He whispered under his breath.
He hated how she flinched. Grovyle looked back up. Sighing deeply.
“Look. I'm not your C- Grovyle. I'm from a different timeline.”
Twig pulled her head back in surprise. “But. Celebi told me that she can't move people to and from different timelines.”
Grovyle huffed. “I’m an exception.”
Twig's eyes widened. The two stared at each other for several seconds. Grovyle then sighed, and turned so his side faced her.
“Now with that out of the way, I realize that I came to the wrong timeline. So leave me alone for about ten minutes to recharge, then I can leave and you'll never have to see me again.”
The two stood in silence. A growing sense of worry rose in Grovyle's chest the longer he looked at Twig's expression through the corner of his eye.
Eventually, he looked at her. “Do you have any questions?”
Twig pursed her lips. “Did you-... Did you kill your Celebi?”
Grovyle flinched so hard he stumbled backwards. “How did you- Did Celebi tell you? ” He breathlessly asked.
Twig closed her eyes, a few tears escaping, and shook her head.
“No. I just- I figured it out myself, just now.”
Grovyle stared at her like she had just grown a second head, before his brow furrowed. “Why on earth would you assume something like that about me?” He growled.
Twig paused for a moment, then huffed. She lifted her arms and motioned to herself. “Have you ever heard of a legend named Darkrai?” She asked.
Grovyle's eyes widened as he pieced together what had happened to her. His vision fell to the ground.
“Oh.” He voiced.
The two stood in an awkward, mournful silence.
“Do you… Do you want to talk about it?” Twig asked.
Grovyle pursed his lip. “Not really, no.” He responded.
Twig stood there and stared at him. “Then… Do you just want to like, hang out?” She asked. Her voice shook slightly.
“No.” He said. Turning around so his back was facing her.
Twig's breath caught on itself briefly. Sending a pang of guilt through Grovyle.
“Clover. Please. I-”
“Can you stop calling me Clover?! I'm not Clover!” He snapped.
Twig paused for a moment. “Right. Sorry…It's just-” She hyperventilated. “It's been so long since I've seen you- um, Clover. That I- I just-.” She choked up on her tears and couldn't finish.
Grovyle bit down on the inside of lip. Then sighed.
Curiosity got the better of him.
“How long has it been since you've seen him?” He asked.
Twig took in a shaky breath. “I think like, a hundred years?”
Grovyle pinched down on his arm.
“I'm sorry.” He said gently.
Twig sighed. “It's okay. I'm sorry for assuming you were him.”
Grovyle felt a bitter anger well up inside him. Not unfamiliar, but different from what has been driving him for so long.
The two went back to standing in silence. One that he was more uncomfortable with the more time that passed between them.
Grovyle's arms dropped to his side, and he sighed. Then walked past Twig to the entrance of Sharpedo Bluff.
He turned back to look at her after stepping down a stair. “Are you coming?” He asked.
Twig flinched a bit. “I thought… I thought you didn't want to talk to me?” She asked innocently.
Grovyle bit down on the inside of his lip again.
“Frankly I don't really want to. But I need to wait to recharge so I can open another passage between times. Not a whole lot else I can do…”
Twig stared at him, and then nodded. Following him inside.
*********
Gosh, when was the last time she'd cleaned in here? It was a mess of old decorations and mystery dungeon gear. He could see dust gathered on just about everything, save for the couch cushions, and a clean path, one that was noticeably smoother than the rest of the floor, in straight lines between the couch, kitchen and exit.
“Sorry it's such a mess. I haven't had guests for a while.”
Grovyle looked at her. “Why? Aren't you friends with Celebi?”
Twig shook her head and forced a smile. “Oh no! We are friends! I just, visit her, and not have her visit me. You know?”
The two stared at each other for a moment.
“Uh-” Twig started. “Why don't you have a seat? I'll go make us some tea.” She briskly trudged into the kitchen.
Grovyle slowly walked towards the couch. Looking through the various piles of stuff strewn about. Some corners had pots of dirt that were so dehydrated, that no weeds were growing from them. Even in Grovyle's presence.
He sat down on one end of the couch and was startled by just how far he sunk down. It had a noticeable dip near the middle seats, but he didn't think it would sink down this far.
How many years has she been sleeping on this thing?
Wait, if she took on Darkrai's powers, then she can't sleep.
If that's the case then does she just, lay on it?
Grovyle glanced around in silence as he could hear the clattering of dishes in the other room. He spotted a glass frame with several lunar feathers inside. He counted four. Maybe five?
He sat on the couch and waited for several seconds. Tension grew with each moment as he thought about just how much time he was wasting by being here.
He repeatedly tapped a claw against the armrest.
He'd experienced a small eternity before, but this felt even longer.
Eventually, Twig stepped out from the kitchen.
“Sorry it took so long! I had to clean the dust off the kettle… and the cups and tea leaves. You don't mind Oran leaf tea right?”
Dust on the leaves??? Well now he doesn't want to take it.
“I don't mind.” He responded. She nodded and handed him his cup as she sat down on the opposite side of the couch. The wood inside it creaked in such a way that he was worried it would fall apart.
The two sat there and sipped on their tea in silence.
Well the tea was better than that berry he ate.
Not much better, it still tasted awful, but it didn't make him want to vomit so that's a positive.
They finished their drinks.
And then continued sitting in silence.
Deafening silence.
The only sounds being their breathing, and the distant crashing of waves on Sharpedo Bluff.
Grovyle glanced over at her multiple times.
He wasn't sure what her expression was.
The silence continued. Dragging on and on.
Were it not for the occasional crackling of Twig's tail flame, and the rhythm-less sound of waves outside, he would have assumed they were somehow put in a loop.
Grovyle's thoughts start to run in their own loop. Thoughts of how this won't amount to anything. How doing this is so much less important than going and helping other timelines get fixed.
“So… Uh… You wanted to talk?” Twig finally broke the silence. Her eyes continued to stay locked to the floor.
Grovyle sighed. Right.
“I'm sorry for getting angry at you.” Grovyle responded, then paused. Deliberating over what to say next. “I… know how you feel.”
Twig huffed. “Right… How long has it been? Since, uh. You know…”
Grovyle rubbed his eyes. That Chesto berry was starting to wear off.
“I dunno.” He mumbled. “A couple of centuries at least. I think. Too long.”
Twig sadly hummed in acknowledgement.
The silence fell between them again.
It was starting to get infuriating.
Like, what is he supposed to say!? He hated it. It's been so ridiculously long since he's talked to anyone, much less any Twigs, like this that he didn't even know if he could talk to her.
Should he be talking to her? It's not like he can fix her. His whole thing is fixing timelines. Not other people's problems.
Then what about other you's that were about to commit to what you did?
Grovyle killed the thought. That wasn't just his problem. It would be everyone’s. That's an exception.
Grovyle's thoughts swirled in spirals. It's a good reason.
“So… um…” Twig voiced. Grovyle glanced at her. Her lips pursed, brows furrowed, and her eyes looking in every direction except towards him.
Grovyle waited for a few seconds then sighed. “Say it.” He grumbled.
Twig paused for a moment. “What's it like? Looking ahead in the timeline I mean.”
Grovyle shot her an angry look, one he was hoping she was looking away for.
She wasn't. Their eyes locked. Her's widened.
Grovyle sighed and leaned back before she could apologize. He then began.
“It's… Hmm. It's like you're given a…”
He pondered for a moment. Trying to think of a way to conceptualize this. He briefly thought of a Human Twig he had adopted once, and how she explained her math homework to him…
Until she grew up, and then…
A wretched feeling twisted in his gut. He pushed the thoughts away.
“Number line of sorts.” Twig looked at him with a strange sort of surprise.
“There aren't any kind of markings on it, but you can see yourself moving along it.” He continued. “But you can like, zoom into it. And then it branches out from that point, and you're given a list of things that can happen.”
He paused again. “I guess it's more like a combination of a sideways family tree and a list, than a number line.” He paused again. “What about you?”
Twig pulled back a bit. She forced a grin and raised her hands. “Oh, I never really tried to use my powers. Those lunar feathers Celebi gave me, meant I didn't need too! So, it's fine, really.”
Grovyle narrowed his eyes on her. He's met Darkrais from before they tried to end the world. He knows for a fact that what she's referring to is that nightmare aura.
So, it's fine, really.
He was thoroughly convinced at this point that Twig is a terrible liar in every timeline.
He was about to call her out on that when she hurriedly spoke.
“Well, if it shows you every possibility all at once? Doesn't that get super overwhelming?”
Grovyle shelved the thought. It's not like he was going to see this Twig again after this anyway. He was just waiting to leave.
“Well, not really.” He responded. Twig tilted her head in confusion.
“It's like… how to phrase this…” he mumbled. “Like, you pick a specific thing to think about. Then you can see a list, I guess? Sorted from most likely to least likely. In other words, we only see the two or three most likely possibilities and their consequences at any point. Significant ones that split the timeline being 'highlighted' so to speak."
“Ohhh. Okay. That actually makes a lot of sense…” Twig's somewhat satisfied expression fell. “So is that how it works for you?”
Grovyle nodded. “Not the first time. But yeah. It is.”
Twig flinched a bit. “What… What was it like the first time?”
Grovyle shrugged. He leaned back in his seat and folded a leg, to rest his foot on his knee. He stared at the wall to his side.
“I didn't know about all that stuff about lists and branching timelines and stuff. Turns out that's more of a rule that Celebis’ follow than how it works. So the first time I did it, I saw everything.” He casually mentioned.
“... wwwhat was it about?” Twig asked.
Grovyle sighed and shrugged his shoulders. “I wanted to see what would happen to my Twig. So I tried looking ahead. I watched her live long, fulfilling lives, and die peacefully in her sleep. And watched her die from a random heart attack milliseconds from when I did that. I watched her die countless times in countless ways. All in the span of a few seconds.” Grovyle stopped for a moment and took in a breath. Twig was silent.
Grovyle shrugged again. “Obviously I'm okay now. In fact, it's better that I did that since I do it all the time now. It's a whole lot faster than cherry picking which branches to look down. I got used to the flood of information. So, yeah. It's fine, really.”
The silence returned. Grovyle continued staring at the wall as his skin started to prickle.
The tension felt absurd. Why was the air so heavy?
“Twig?” Grovyle asked. He turned his head to face her. “Are you oka-”
He stopped when he saw her face. Her eyes wide, and her mouth hung open in complete and utter horror. Tears silently ran down her face and fell onto the couch.
Twig stood up off the couch and stepped towards him, and then wrapped Grovyle in a tight hug, as she repeatedly took in shaky breaths.
He then realized he just told her what he'd never told anyone before.
Grovyle felt wrath rising in his chest
He tried to push her away. Her arms tightened.
“Twig!? What are you doing!? Let me go! I need to leave!” He demanded.
He kept trying to push her away. He even tried using his legs. It didn't work. She was shockingly strong.
Grovyle stopped struggling after nearly a minute of this.
“Twig?” He asked.
“I'm so sorry that happened to you.” Twig sobbed.
Grovyle felt a bolt of shock run through his heart.
To hear her say what he knew the Celebi would say if he told them. He dreaded hearing them say it.
But her?
Twigs arms wrapped tighter.
“W-what happened to you wasn't okay.” She choked out.
Grovyle froze. Then he returned her hug.
It felt so nice.
He was finally hugging Twig again.
What happened wasn't okay.
The phrase repeated itself in his mind over and over.
He was barely holding back tears.
It wasn't okay.
And then the tears started running down his face.
Grovyle was choking back his sobbing. He would allow tears. But not sobbing. He won't cry like that in front of her.
It wasn't okay.
It's not okay.
None of what happened, should have happened to you.
A sob escaped Grovyle's mouth.
You're not okay.
In an instant, all of the walls Grovyle had standing for hundreds of years came crashing down.
Then he sobbed some more.
And then he sobbed and wept and wailed and screamed.
That ugly, bloody viscera that had been pulsing, filling him with a dull ache for so long had just been torn out of his chest for her to see.
And despite that, she was holding him in her arms like a crying child.
The way he would comfort the abandoned Twigs he used to search for.
He clutched at her. Pulling her closer to him crying even harder at the thought.
He cried for hours. Releasing centuries of pent up sorrow out for her to hear.
You're not okay.
But, maybe you will be.
*********
Grovyle's eyes stung badly as he tried to open them. The sun shining across his eyes was what woke him up. His stomach ached with sharp pain.
The memories of what happened last night returned as he pushed himself into sitting upright. Groaning at the effort it takes. His entire body has never felt so heavy.
He barely remembers anything after crying for so long. Did he pass out?
“Hungry?”
He glanced up to see Twig holding a plate of food. Smiling at him.
Grovyle pursed his lips, tears once again filling in his eyes as he nodded.
Tears silently ran down his face as he ravenously ate this, his second, and his third servings of this food. He didn't know what was in it, but it tasted greater than anything he could imagine.
He almost started sobbing again when he realized he truly did forget just how good real food can be. Not that grimy food or the chesto berries or the occasional apples.
Real, genuine, cooked food.
Twig began talking after he finally told her that he wasn't hungry anymore.
“Gosh Grovyle. When was the last time you ate or slept? You've slept for an entire day.”
Grovyle tilted his head, and glanced backwards into the timeline.
It was morning, but the day after. He'd slept for nearly twenty-seven hours straight.
Grovyle weakly chuckled. “I dunno. I've been going this long just by eating Chesto berries.”
He tried to chuckle again, and it sounded like it was mixed with a sob.
He glanced around to avoid Twig's gaze, and saw that most of the clutter in the room was missing. It was far from perfect, but it actually looked like a living space now.
Twig sat down on the couch next to him. It creaked, but didn't seem like it would give up the ghost just yet.
The two sat in silence for several minutes.
This time, he didn't want to leave. It wasn't uncomfortable. He wanted to stay here forever…
But he had work that needed to be done.
“Twig.” He started.
“I know.” She responded. “I wish you could stay here too.”
He pursed his lips again. That wasn't what he was going to say. But it was what he wanted to say.
She gently pulled him towards her, and he leaned towards her. Resting his body on hers. She slowly rubbed her hand in circles between his shoulder blades.
“I'm going to miss you Grovyle.” She broke the silence eventually.
He glanced up at her eyes, then looked at the ground.
A few tears escaped his eyes as he choked out; “Can you… Can you call me Clover?”
Twig leaned towards him and pulled him into a hug. “Of course I can, Clover.” She responded.
He hugged her back, and they stayed like that for a few minutes.
Clover eventually spoke. “I'll miss you Twig.”
Twig sighed. “I will miss you too, Clover. Promise you will come and visit me?”
Clover pulled her in tighter. Tears fell down their faces.
“I promise.”
#pmd eos#text post#mortality exchange au#fanfic#pmd2#i also took a bit of liberty with the implied mechanics of the timelines.#fanfic of a fanfic#pokemon#the present is a gift au#writing#pmd#where they dont split at every possibility. since that would mean that there would be infinite L!Grovyle's running around#And how he doesnt accidentally create more by simply existing.#Only ones that cause a significant difference in the course of history. mainly deaths and births#didnt know how to make it come out naturally. But his real name /is/ Clover. this is the same Grovyle from all the other ones.#I mostly think of it this way because its really hard to come up with a satisfying answer for why there is only one L!Grovyle
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my blu ray player and my copy of sucker punch extended cut are getting here on monday let's fucking gooooo
#i downloaded it totally legally to watch in the interim but i <3 physical media#but i genuinely haven't stopped thinking about it since i watched it wow#i can't believe i'm earnestly saying release the snyder cut but-#release the snyder cut (of sucker punch (2011))#i want more!!!! i want to see what the original vision was#what do you have to say doll?
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i want to live in the world where dragon age inquisition got to have the in-depth strategy / political organization sim elements bioware obviously wanted it to have where your decisions in managing the inquisition actually meant anything for how it operates and had effects on the game world. sadly we live in the universe where art needs to make profit
#dragon age#dragon age inquisition#you can see the remnants of their vision#like in the requisitions system#which obviously was originally intended to not just be meaningless crafting recipes that give you meager amounts of Influence and Power#even influence and power feel like stripped back abstractions of what they originally wanted#the early trailers of the game made establishing and managing keeps in each region look a lot more important than they ended up being#also the da2 resource system would've made infinitely more sense in inquisition than going around grabbing individual resources personally#as you walk around#and it is kind of there in the final game? like the logging stands and whatnot are similar in concept though they really are just for the#pointless shallow requisitions rather than anything of any actual impact#i remember also that early talk of the game included a mechanic where it was possible to overhunt wildlife or overharvest resources#which never actually manifested in the final game#but could've been interesting for things like the refugees in the hinterlands who need food#a mechanic like that could open up player choice of balancing providing for the refugees with responsibly managing the local resources#rather than how the quest is in the final game which is just “go kill 10 rams”
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about 5 seconds from spinning an entire barely-genre-adjacent au just because ikeep thinking abt Characters too hard
anyway angela and roland on the worlds longest, shittiest road trip to Nowhere
#[tagramble warning WAHA]#piktalk#projmoon#can you see my vision. its about the abandonment of certainty; of the decision to hold tight to no one but yourself.#its the decision to live dangerously; to live freely; or at least to try and learn what 'freedom' exactly means#what it means to someone who has never felt it. never lived it.#about the chance intersection of lines; of lives. and eventually; about solidarity even in the face of the unknown.#not trusting you; but trusting you. not knowing you; but knowing you.#i know not what you want nor if it is good for me; but youre here and will have my back when nobody else will.#i know not where you come from or who you are-- you will not tell me. but i know obscure facts about you-- what you like and what you dont.#its about discovering the Self where originally there was nothing. healing a Self that had broken down to scraps and dust.#its about what it means to be 'home.' what happens when you lose it-- and when you realize maybe youve never had one to begin with.#and the search for something that truly deserves to hold that title. the title of comfort; certainty; reliability; safety.#and maybe. maybe. if you cannot find yours; and i cannot find mine; then that home. maybe you could be... no; nevermind.#there's always more road ahead.#yes iam still thinking abt th transmasc angela post .
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[𝚙𝚛𝚎-𝚝𝟸 𝚟𝚘𝚒𝚌𝚎 𝚍𝚛𝚊𝚖𝚊 #𝟶𝟷] 𝚙𝚕𝚊𝚢𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚋𝚢 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚛𝚞𝚕𝚎𝚜
IT'S HERE LET'S GOOOOO okay i'm slowly starting to post more t2 stuff, so uh. i hope you guys are ready for this because i'm not
also i drew this in like half an hour i kinda wanted it to look messy
(warnings: mentions of physical assault/violence and attempted suicide, also Jackalope might be a bit OOC)
[ The door opens ]
*sounds of footsteps*
Eiji: Guard 002, did you call me?
Eiji: Did you need something?
Eiji: ...
Eiji: "Huh. No response."
Eiji: Guard 002, are you here?
Eiji: Miki, are you here?..
Eiji: "Where did that girl go.."
???: Ah, finally, here you are.
Eiji: !
Eiji: "What was that?.."
Eiji: Is there anybody here? You better show yourself right now or I-
???: Now, now, calm down. I know that you're one of the scariest guards we've had, but at least try to act a bit more chill this time.
Eiji: .. "We"?
Eiji: W-wait, who am I even talking to?
Eiji: Am I.. talking to the person who created this place?
???: .. Did you not notice me yet?
???: I'm literally right in front of you.
Eiji: What are you talking about? I can't see anyone here-
Eiji: H-huh?..
Jackalope: Hello there, "Guard 001".
Eiji: ...
Jackalope: Now, I know that you're the strict and responsible type, so I hope we will have a proper conversation-
[ Eiji throws something at Jackalope ]
Jackalope: .. Seriously?
Jackalope: You know what, maybe I should've chosen the girl. I'm sure she would be much easier and nicer to talk to.
Jackalope: Wait, are you-
[ Eiji throws something at him again ]
Jackalope: .. Yeah, Guard 002 would be the better option.
Eiji: *breathing heavily* Why.. are you still.. talking?..
Eiji: .. I'm not going insane, right? I'm completely normal, I'm a completely sane person..
Jackalope: *laughs*
Eiji: T-this thing can laugh too??
Jackalope: Eiji, you're one of the least sane people I've ever met.
Eiji: YOU KNOW MY NAME??
Eiji: I..
Eiji: Maybe I should just leave. Maybe I should just leave this room.
Eiji: These last days have been.. not so easy, all this stress is getting to me.
Eiji: It's not like I hate being the guard of this prison, it's just.. It can be very hard sometimes.
Jackalope: Yeah, you actually enjoy being a guard a lot.
Eiji: YOU'RE STILL HERE??
Jackalope: *sighs* Calm down already, will you?
Jackalope: And stop throwing stuff at me, okay? You have a lot of energy for someone with a body as weak as yours.
Eiji: ...
Eiji: .. What did you say?
Jackalope: I know a lot about you, Eiji. And about your partner too.
Jackalope: I've been watching you two all this time.
Eiji: .. H-how?
Eiji: No, like, how can you..
Eiji: How can you even talk?
Eiji: Wait, is that a guard uniform?
Eiji: Does that mean that you're also-
Jackalope: Now, I understand that you have a lot of questions and you will get answers to them eventually..
Jackalope: Probably.
Jackalope: But listen, appearing like this wasn't really a part of my plan either. I have a reason to come and talk to you in person like this.
Jackalope: If it wasn't for one small thing, I would just continue to study you two, it's so entertaining to watch you and Guard 002, haha..
Jackalope: Ahem. But anyway, we do have something important to talk about. You might want to sit down for this one.
Eiji: ...
[Eiji sits down]
Jackalope: Perfect.
Jackalope: Now, Eiji, so you understand how Milgram works, right?
Eiji: O-of course I do.
Eiji: We interrogate the prisoners, we extract their videos, we watch them.. and then we judge them.
Eiji: That's.. all we have to do.
Jackalope: Haha, really? Is that all?
Jackalope: I'm sure you understand that the guards have to do much, much more than that.
Eiji: I mean..
Eiji: It's not like I want to do it, but I have to cook for them and also, um..
Jackalope: Eiji, you know I mean something else.
Jackalope: You know, like making sure the prisoners don't die before their final verdict.
Eiji: !
Jackalope: Oh well, if they die, I guess it cannot be helped-
Eiji: .. W-what do you mean by that?
Eiji: How.. how much do you actually know?
Jackalope: Well, I know everything about those recent incidents.
Jackalope: One of the prisoners has tried to injure the two other prisoners, who are also some of the most vulnerable ones here.
Jackalope: One prisoner is now trying to do literally anything to make others pay attention to him, which doesn't always end well.
Jackalope: And there also was a prisoner who tried to kill himself-
Eiji: ENOUGH!
Eiji: I.. Now I understand.
Eiji: You really do know everything.
Jackalope: Haha, of course I do. Now, I'll just get straight to the point.
Jackalope: Eiji, you remember how the trial system works, right?
Eiji: Me and Guard 002 have to discuss everyone's crimes and we have to make a decision about their verdict.
Jackalope: And would you say it's hard to make those decisions?
Eiji: .. Why don't you tell me that yourself if you've been watching us all this time?
Jackalope: Wow, look at you, acting so brave already!
Jackalope: I thought you had more respect for this place.
Eiji: .. Sorry.
Eiji: It is.. hard. Me and Guard 002 have completely different opinions and values, she thinks we should forgive all the prisoners and their crimes don't matter, meanwhile I think they all deserve to die for their sins.
Eiji: So.. we often end up arguing because of that.
Jackalope: Can you say that the first trial has been stressful for you?
Eiji: .. Well, it's only the first trial, so it's natural that we're only getting used to this-
Jackalope: It takes a lot of time to come to the same conclusion, doesn't it?
Jackalope: You want to punish all the prisoners here, meanwhile Guard 002 wants to forgive them. You two couldn't be any more different than this.
Eiji: .. Yes, I don't agree with her opinion most of the time, but I still think she deserves to be a guard. She has a reason to forgive them and when she explains it, she's able to convince even someone like me that these murderers deserve a second chance.
Jackalope: Judging by the results of the first trial, one might say that she's too good at it.
Eiji: .. Of course, you know about that too, don't you?
Jackalope: I have to say, these results have.. surprised me a bit.
Jackalope: All of these people are murderers and some of them committed the worst and scariest crimes you can ever imagine, but..
Jackalope: Most of them have been voted innocent. Actually, all but three of them were forgiven.
Jackalope: I guess Guard 002 really is good at her job, isn't she?
Eiji: Are you.. disappointed?
Eiji: I promise I will be more strict with them this time. I won't hold back. I will make sure everyone gets the punishment that they deserve-
Jackalope: I'm not here to tell you what's good and what's bad to do.
Jackalope: You can judge them in any way you want, I couldn't care less. You can vote all of them innocent or you can vote all of them guilty if you want. You don't even have to judge them based on your morals or whatever. Or you can vote them based on that, if you want.
Jackalope: Also, who am I to tell you to stop agreeing with a pretty girl all the time?
Jackalope: But again, you two are completely different people which makes this whole voting process a unique and interesting experience, but also..
Jackalope: Would you say that this voting system is flawed?
Eiji: ...
Eiji: N-no, of course not..
Jackalope: You deserve to be praised for being so loyal to this place, haha.
Jackalope: And yes, I think making two guards judge a prisoner can actually be better than just making one person choose.
Jackalope: What if that person is a coward who's too afraid of making any decisions? What if that person doesn't want to take that responsibilty? What if they just refuse to vote?
Eiji: Actually.. what happens if you refuse to vote?
Jackalope: Anyway, I'm sure you two have thought at least once about just.. not agreeing with each other and not wanting to change your mind.
Eiji: .. I guess so, yes.
Jackalope: So, Eiji, can you tell me what happens when two people can't come to the same conclusion at all and they just can't make a decision?
Eiji: Wait, but what if we just.. vote the way that we want to vote? What if Guard 002 votes someone innocent, while I vote that person guilty? What happens next?
Jackalope: *sighs*
Jackalope: Can you not answer my question with another question?
Eiji: Oh, sorry.
Eiji: I guess.. They try to find a compromise in some way?
Jackalope: But what if they can't do that? I don't think you can do something like that so easily when you have to decide whether you want to forgive or punish a murderer.
Eiji: I..
Eiji: Well, I don't know. That will probably end with a fight.
Jackalope: Hm, so your mind immediately jumped to that, huh..
Jackalope: Is it because you're used to solving problems that way?
Eiji: Um..
Jackalope: Well, I don't care about your backstory, so let me just answer the question myself.
Jackalope: When two people can't make a decision and almost end up arguing because of that..
Jackalope: They might want to ask someone for a third opinion.
Eiji: ...
Eiji: Huh?
Jackalope: You know, maybe they will just ask their friend to help them out or maybe they will ask a random person what they would do in their situation.
Jackalope: Maybe that person will have a completely different opinion, but they can still be able to guide those two and give them some advice.
Jackalope: Or, well, at least they can just be there to make sure there won't be something like a 50/50 result.
Jackalope: .. Hey, are you okay? You seem kinda pale.
Eiji: .. What does that mean?
Eiji: What do you mean by "a third opinion"?
Jackalope: Well, it's not something that you have to worry about, it's not gonna change the voting process in any way.
Jackalope: Maybe we won't even have to do that-
Eiji: Third opinion.. Asking someone to "help us out"..
Eiji: Making sure there won't be a 50/50 result..
Eiji: Hey..
Eiji: Does that mean there's a third guard hiding somewhere?
Jackalope: Hey, relax, I've already told you that it most likely won't come to that.
Eiji: BUT IT MEANS YOU'RE ALREADY PLANNING TO DO THAT, RIGHT?
Eiji: .. D-does that mean there's someone else in this prison and we don't know about it?
Eiji: Are they aware of what's going on? Or maybe they're "asleep"?
Eiji: .. Wait a second.
Eiji: Me and Guard 002..
Eiji: We both are related to other prisoners.
Eiji: Me and Prisoner 005 are brothers and Guard 002 is most likely related to Prisoner 007.
Eiji: And I don't think this is a coincidence, so..
Jackalope: Wow, you really are smart.
Eiji: .. Does that mean you're hiding someone's family member here? If it has to be someone's sibling..
Eiji: Wait.. I remember. Prisoner 002 has an older brother, Prisoner 004 has an older brother and a younger sister, Prisoner 006 has a younger brother, Prisoner 009 has an older brother and two younger sisters and Prisoner 010 has a younger brother.
Eiji: If you're hiding someone's sibling, it has to be-
Jackalope: Eiji. Does this mean that you don't want to do all of this anymore?
Jackalope: Does this mean you don't want to be a guard anymore?
Jackalope: Do you really want to let Guard 002 forgive your brother like that?
Eiji: ...
Jackalope: Listen, I also wasn't a fan of this whole concept of "choosing the prisoners' siblings as the guards". Doesn't that sound like a cheap plot twist? What, is this some kind of drama?
Jackalope: But eh, I went along with it.
Eiji: .. I'm sorry.
Eiji: I'm sorry, I really do have a lot of respect for this place and if I could, I would stay here so that I can judge even more prisoners.
Eiji: It's just..
Eiji: Making two people with completely different opinions judge someone, choosing people who are related to the prisoners to be the guards, saying that if we can't make a decision, there will be a third person to help us so that the prisoners can be properly judged..
Eiji: .. All of this doesn't sound like a normal trial.
Eiji: It's like.. a game. It's like someone is playing a game and they want to see just what exactly they can do while playing it. It's like they want to see just how many possibilities this game has.
Eiji: So they start.. experimenting with it, basically.
Eiji: And if I want to punish everyone so badly and I get annoyed when I see how many prisoners have been voted innocent and I want to convince Guard 002 that I'm right and she's wrong..
Eiji: .. Doesn't that mean that I've fallen right into some kind of trap? Doesn't that mean that I'm just a character in that game and I'm getting ordered around, but I don't even notice it?
Eiji: .. Wait, where are you?
Eiji: Hey, weird rabbit thing! Where did you go?
Eiji: .. For some reason I don't feel like I'm that powerful anymore. Do my decisions even matter in this place?
Eiji: Oh, there you are-
[Eiji goes silent for a moment]
Eiji: .. Wait, what am I even thinking?
Eiji: I'm the guard of the Milgram prison. I have a job to do.
Eiji: I have to go and tell everyone about the second trial.
#wow :) this is sure a fun start! :)#so yeah. as you can see the prisoners have been. uh. not doing so well#you can try to guess which prisoners jackalope was talking about if you want!#eiji almost realizes that all of this is not. well. a normal trial and he should start trying to figure out what milgram really is#and then jackalope goes “not so fast”#and just like with the prisoners i've mentioned i'd love to hear your third guard theories too if you have any :)#🎤 voice dramas! 🎤#🗡️guard 001: sanada eiji 🗡️#milgram#milgram oc#milgram project#ocgram#edit: so i was going to add this vd to the masterlist and then i noticed that both this vd and reina's vd start with the word “playing”#and at first i was like “great job lina couldn't you come up with a more original title” but if you think about it..#it kinda makes sense?? like if you don't count “the end of the first trial” reina's vd is the last t1 vd#so it's like. a loop basically. it's like t1 era is over but it's not forgotten and idk what i'm saying but anyway do you see my vision
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i do think oranboo would wear dresses and skirts but i also think that she would still be really pathetic. shes not your sassy but supportive sister figure who magically knows makeup now and does yours for you shes not human and her species doesnt have gender (at MOST if you connect enderians to the ender dragon then she would be. a dragon) so tits would probably be more annoying to her than anything ("why would i choose to have back pain. why shouldnt i just tailor dresses to fit me without weird lumps on my chest") shes probably not going to be very nice at all really
no in my mind oranboo has just decided that now that shes a girl shes TWICE as better than everyone. shes still a weirdo who lives in a cave and cant go out in the rain not because it would ruin her makeup but because itll literally kill her. ranboo not being on the server is actually just oranboo going mining to try and get rich again. shes still a spoiled brat but now shes a spoiled brat of a PRINCESS and really her connection to the ender dragon makes her THRICE as cool and better than everyone else, actually. she mutters to herself and probably always has dirty hands because ender but she doesnt have silk touch.
transitioning didnt make oranboo go from a manloser to a #girlboss #slay #baddie who pinches your cheeks and teases you but means well. shes just a womanloser now who does wear dresses and heels but the heels are so it hurts more when she steps on your foot to get you to drop something and then pretends it wasnt her and even if it was you deserved it actually because that was hers? its in her hands so its hers now. she probably stole the gender too
#o!ranboo#origins smp#osmp#ranboo#mask mews#me: yknow it does suck that theres so little variety in hcs for oranboo. wait. i can be the change i want in this world#she only grows out her hair a little (if she even has hair) and she doesnt paint her claws but she DOES file them to be sharper#she hates how makeup feels and either way beau is probably the only member who does wear makeup anyways#so she wouldnt really think its a girl thing she would probably think its a beau thing#(shubble is a phantling who probably has rough skin and niki is. underwater. so)#(they COULD. but it might not process as something they put on themselves every day)#she does however wear even more jewelry#she already did. but shes wearing more now#she puts on makeup for fancy events if they even have those and gets frustrated bc she doesnt actually know how#so she ends up getting help and then pretends like she had done it all on her own anyways#do you see my vision. do you understand#she gets a bit more feminine sure but shes still a loser who chose to live in a cave and probably got told to leave her homeland#bc she was being a brat#she hasnt learned she just heard shubble niki and beau be referred to as the girls of the server or whatever#and was like whats that. i dont know what that is but i want it? i want to be girl?#and after a long attempt at getting her to understand gender shes like. hm#well this all sounds really complicated but im still stealing the girl thing thanks
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Is it hyperbolic to say that FF7R is made of the same brain slush that Disney Live Action remakes are? I know FF7R is technically still animated, but I mean, so was The Lion King 2019.
#shut the heck up#ff7#disney#tag talking#watching the nibelhiem part of rebirth with the council and there were sooo many dumb choices#and like looking at the 7r project as a whole it just lacks so moment to moment vision#i know its building to some grand meta-narrative but like individual scenes are so bleh so generic action camera and mocapitis#im happy there are enough people out there who realize the majesty of prerendered backgrounds for storytelling but like squenix doesnt care#also so many scenes that were originally slow and dialogue based turned into mild action setpieces its shtuupid#or the part in the reactor where while Sephiroth has a revelation youre in a different room doing a random valve turning QTE LIKEDSGFJSHD#lord the balance of battles and narrative#people harp on the original for being dated with its late 90sness but theres so much abbrassive rule-of-coolism in 7R#more than a lot me and my friends kept screaming about sephiroths characterization like why in gods green fuck he smiled so much#and one of my friends was like 'maybe this is cloud making things up cause he wants to feel like sephy notices him' and i was likE-#OFC THEN LATE GAME THEYLL EXPLAIN THAT ALL HIS OOC FANSERVICE MANNERISMS AHVE BEEN A ROUSE THE WHOLE TIMEHDSGJF#THEY DO ACTUALLY KNOW HOW TO CHARACTERIZE HIM THEY WERE JUST TORMENTING US OFC!! HSDFGJSDJ#they dont know what theyre fukcing doing with that guy he shouldnt be fucking smiling during nibelhiem#he shouldnt have even smiled when he said the 'im going to see my mother' line - AND DEFINITELY NOT DURING THE FIRE!!#he was not happy then he was estuans interis he was on a mission not sadistically torturing the townsfolk#HE WOULD NOT FUCKING do THAT
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[Image description: a digital drawing of Thomas from Transatlantic holding Varian's hand and kissing his fingers while crying. We only see Thomas's face and their two hands covered in dripping blood. Behind them are black shards with designery red eyes on them. The pieces is coloured in desaturated blues with red accents. End description.]
We all have blood on our hands.
#transatlantic#lovefry#varian fry#thomas lovegrove#so uhhhh yeah if anyone remembers me saying i was sketching some ideas to do w how they met this is one of them#i started getting too many ideas in the middle of it so i kind of lost the original vision but thats ok bcs experimentation baby#basically the first idea was to have knives in the bg but then i was like glass shards bcs of the beer glass that was probably shattered#and bcs its less complex than a knife while still signifying violence (wanted simpler elements in this bad boy)#and then the eyes are all the people who just watched and the red signifies the underlying violence of being a silent observer#in these kinds of situations#and then i got distracted w thomas's suit lol bcs i accidentally did stripes and i was like omg criminal symbolism#and then i was like ok what if they werent normal stripes (bcs that strict angularity is more a part of varian's symbolism)#but instead were more scale-like bcs thomas is resilient but his throat is open bcs a part of his resilience is a lack of fear#of vulnerability#see what i mean by got distracted lol#it doesnt belong in this piece bcs it almost creates a second accent colour when red is meant to be the only one#but id love to do something w it in a different piece#thanks for coming to my ted talk it has to be in here bcs ill see this in 6 months having forgotten everything#and i hope u enjoy the drawing bcs if i cant be completely happy w it (artist disease) at least someone else might enjoy it#artist brain insists i shouldnt share it but i must face the horrors in order to grow /hj
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Tell the truth comic fans challenge. When's the last time you read a comic and how many have you actually read?
P.S. This isn't me being gatekeepy btw I'm being genuine because I'm gonna be honest I've probably only actually read about five series and every thing else I've gotten from movies/series, online, or fanon. I know all the important events. Have I actually read them? No because my ADHD just wouldn't. And I can't be assed having to read important events if it's in a shit run by a bad writer.
#Also ngl I was determined to read from the very start but. I would not have the time for that in any life so lmao#I have read quite a few of the early Batman comics and do actually hope to read as many of his as possible#But I have not actually sat and read all of the Batfam origins yet tho I intend to#I know them all and I've seen the panels just never actually sat down and gone through it all#I also have read a lot of the Golden Era Batman and Superman team up comics where they basically act like parents#Taking Dick out on family day trips. It's a fun read tbh#And back when I was a early teen and couldn't afford comics I watched YouTuber who would read them for you and tell you about them/show you#So I've read half of Batman Eternal from that but he stopped uploading vids about it which made me really sad lmao#So I need to get around to reading the rest myself/rereading it because it's been a while#I think I liked the story but wouldn't canonise it in my mind#I also read a bit of Suicide Sqaud that way I think? So that too#I totally don't pirate read Injustice#I like it but I think some of it is iffy. But that's the case with comics in general#Batman: Wayne Family Adventures is the only I actually keep up with#Probably because it's more accessible but also because it's the kind of comic I've wanted about the Batfam for ages#There's room for improvement and I would like to see how one similar to that style would be made like. In the fully canon mainstream comics#Because I'm aware it's very fanon/fan servicey but honesty after all the DC chaos we deserve it. But I would like to see more family#Urban Legends is really good. But Idk. I'm very particular about my vision lmao#Let me be a writer is what I'm saving. Or make a competant TV show *Glares at Titans*#Titans is good but God do they fucking butcher Jason and Bruce. I am sick of DC TV and film adaptions doing the Batfam dirty#Like. The animated movies#Tim just is never a thing ever. Why#Titans does have him and I like that. But I haven't watched that season ngl because I don't like how they write Bruce#Like. He doesn't. Look for cjild soldiers bruh. I'm disappointed with Titans because they coulda done so well#But Bruce is far too old and they made Dick almost murderous with him and they fucked up Jason. I haven't seen Tim's-#-Characterisation yet but I'm scared to at this point#Alfred must be fucking dead because he would be SO OLD if Bruce is already like 60 bruh. No offence to the actor but yeah.#Chella Man is the best thing about the show. Tbf I adore the cast other than Bruce. But everyone is just so OOC and it doesn't-#Stick to the comics at all#Idk it just. Isn't it lmao
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Yandere! House Monster x Reader
Listen, I woke up in cold sweat at 4am with a vision: you and your stereotypically unavailable gamer boyfriend have moved into a new house. You find out very soon it's not as empty as you had assumed, but your worries fall on deaf ears. The tentacle monster lurking in dark corners just wants to make sure you're not lonely.
[Second Part]
Content: gender neutral reader, monster romance (mildly NSFW)
You didn't notice anything strange at first. Maybe it was considering its prey. You'd found a cheap, old house available for rent, and your boyfriend couldn't refuse the extra space for his mancave.
Oh, you poor thing. It watched your lonely evenings, your empty bed at night, your futile attempts to spend more time with your beloved partner. It had originally planned to devour your souls and await the next foolish mortals to enter its realm, but seeing your pitiful state prompted a change of heart. Metaphorical heart, of course.
It started gradually: testing the waters, or what you'd call a courting attempt. Doors opening by themselves, disembodied eyes lovingly gazing at you from the nearby walls. Dark tendrils making their way out of the shadows, just to announce its presence.
"I think this place might be cursed", you told your boyfriend one evening. "I've been stalked by amorphous silhouettes of blight and terror, and they whisper ancient blasphemies to me at night." He let out a worried shout and slapped the desk. "That's cool, babe. I'm kind of losing right now, though, so perhaps give me a minute?"
One night you were awakened from your slumber by a warm touch sliding across your body. You smiled into your pillow as the cheeky hands made their way down, fondling your curves and hungrily searching for your sensitive areas. You let out a soft moan, enjoying the moment, until you heard your boyfriend yell from the other room. Your eyes shot open.
The hands lewdly groping your privates were, in fact, tentacles. Your first reaction was to gasp, but you were quickly silenced by another slippery appendage pressing against your lips. Shh, shh. Allow the creature to do its thing, dear. Surely enough, within minutes you were a drooling mess, holding onto the sheets for dear life.
"You've been in a good mood lately", you boyfriend remarks, idly scrolling on his phone and crunching on his breakfast cereal. You ponder if you should tell him you've been fucked relentlessly by a monstrous creature inhabiting your new home. You glance at the counter and smirk, remembering how you just had to wipe your wet mess from it a few hours ago. "Keep it that way, hun, I could get used to not being pestered every hour", the man jokes with a laugh.
Does it count as cheating if your affair partner isn't really human? Although, you have to wonder if you're still dating to begin with. From the corner of your eye, you can discern faint movement above the young man, a shadow looming menacingly. The eldritch monster would not hesitate to tear your poor boyfriend apart if he tried to mess with its belonging.
#yandere#yandere x reader#yandere x darling#yandere x you#yandere monster#yandere monster x reader#yandere headcanons#yandere scenarios#yandere imagines#monster x reader#monster x human#monster boyfriend#tentacle monster#monster smut#terato#teratophillia#monster fucker
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· · Just in: Gojo Satoru just found out he’s a chubby chaser like the rest · ·
･˳ . ⋆ Reporting From Gojo Satoru x Chubby!Fem!reader ･˳ . ⋆
୨⍣୧ ⁺⁎˚ ⋆━━ Warnings : Smut, Dirty talking, pwp, fluids( squirting, cum on body and inside), creampie, heavy body worship, Gojo calling you a cry baby and chubby bunny, words of affirmation, pet names ( such as doll, Angel, etc.), missionary position, stretch marks mentioned, reader is shoko’s nurse assistant( guess you could say it’s the original verse/ au in a way idk), please enjoy yourself. Wc: 800
ෆ ‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿ ෆ ̟ ̇ ┈•ﾟNote from Maydayaisha: This is for my chubby girls who doesn’t feel like their fave or anyone would love them. I wrote this with myself and other chubby/plus size babes. Love you all so much and just know I’m here for you all. Anyways, love you and enjoy my first time Drabble I decided to do! Also please note I did this in 45 minutes so it’s not gonna be perfect at all. <33
“ Give it to me, baby doll.”, Satoru moans into your ear as he presses your body underneath his. The cushion of your body was something he needed to drown in. He couldn’t get you off his mind the moment he saw you working alongside Shoko as her nurse assistant.
Your eyes were shut tightly as your dried-up glitter lip gloss lips opened in a big O. You couldn’t take him and he knew you couldn’t because of the whispery moans falling from your pretty lips. “ Cat got your tongue, Angel. Too much f’ya.” Gojo rose up off your body— watching you shake from how deep he was inside of you. He chuckled whilst rubbing your clit— your legs were about to close but his hand stopped it, “ Ah ah Ah, no, keep them just like they are, pretty. Shit! You’re fucking squeezing me.”
“ Sato-Ahh~ I can’t— I can’t please pull out for a minute. Lemme - ugh! Mmm.”, Your moans were a ballad to him, a beautiful ballad. Gojo leaned down to kiss your bruised, puffy lips as he slowed down his strokes. Only then long stroking inside of your sloppy cunt. His cum was already painted over your pussy and he still had the energy to keep going. It was so painfully good because you two have been at this for about— shit who are you kidding you lost track.
Gojo knew he was digging inside of your stomach because of your juices traveling down his big cock, “ fucking pussy is eating on my dick. You’re that eager to take me in your stomach, Yeah? Don’t leave me hanging here love, Answer me.” You were speechless and couldn’t even talk— especially when he rolled his hips in a perfect circle, pausing to fuck his dick inside of you with the speed you never knew he had.
Tears danced in your pretty eyes, eventually dancing down your big apple cheeks causing Gojo to lick them off as he snapped his hips into yours. Your body vibrations were the topping to his cake. “ Got your breath took away, huh? Didn’t answer me-mmm- but you’re still so pretty for me, perfect pussy taking me deep.” Gojo slapped your pussy with his clean, pretty hands. “ You’re crying too? Such a big baby while taking my cock. Come on, just a little more for me, cherry pie.”
Gojo rose up again, smiling at you, “ No matter what anyone says, you’re beautiful, fucking gorgeous to me, especially when you’re taking my cock inside of that warm pussy of yours. Gotta say, Angel, you’re holding on so well.” His words of affirmation did nothing but make you squirt on his dick like a fire hydrant on a hot sunny day. “Perfect. Perfect. Perfect. Gojo was chanting the words like the crowd chanting for their teams on a game night, only whispering it against your face when he bent down again. His moans were getting louder as he braced himself to cum anywhere in or on your body.
Soon Gojo’s long, slender fingers intertwined with your chubby fingers as his white hair clouded his vision from seeing you squirm and come undone underneath him. He stopped fucking you with a loud and long groan, pulling out of you when some of his cum got inside of you. He wanted some of his fluid inside of you and on top of your chubby body. Your pretty tummy with stretch marks was now being drowned with his white , thick cum. Gojo’s body was shaking drastically as he stroked his cock above you, “ Fuck, Shit! So so good. My chubby bunny. Such a good- mmmgh!- little slut. My good little slut.”
He stopped stroking his thick, pretty cock once all of his cum came out of his body and onto yours. Yours and his chest was rising and falling harshly. His red flushed face was an art you admired even through diamond like a vision from your pretty teary eyes. Gojo chuckled— watching you try to get your vision back by whipping your eyes. His big, rough hands grabbed your wrist, you should’ve known from his little smirk on his face, he’ll say the one thing you hated being called during sex, "My little crybaby as well.”
Gojo was now just staring at your body with his blue Crystal like eyes. He studied the different areas your stretch marks appeared at. He licked his lips at your body rising and falling slowly now. Your cute double chin was so admirable to him. He was in love with you. Maybe even obsessed. He fucking adored your chubby body. If this is what it means to be a chubby chaser then he’s at the top of the list. Maybe even in the VIP section with Geto, Toji, and Nanami.
Tagging: @shunsuist @happygoluckyalexis @honeybleed ( my baby I am so sorry for not tagging you when I put this out, forgive me) @mastermindenoshimaalicia @cybercandy1 @simpingfor-wakasa @angelshub and anyone else who wants to be tagged in drabbles
#gojo satoru#gojo satoru smut#jjk smut#jjk x reader#chubby reader#plus size reader#jjk x y/n#jujutsu kaisen smut#jujutsu kaisen x reader#jujutsu kaisen#x black reader#black reader#jjk x black reader#jjk x chubby reader#anime smut#anime x chubby reader#anime men x reader#jjk drabbles#jjk imagines#satoru gojō x reader#angelshubnetwork
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Soul healing
Damian was angry.
He was one of their best fighters, knew the layout of Arkham like the back of his hand, AND was on good terms with both Riddler and Ivy! Why wasn’t he allowed to help in the breakout? What was the point of making him babysit!?!
Father had said he was to keep the child safe but he’d neglected to say why. And honestly, the child was three months old. Who would be hunting down an infant, why would they be hunting down an infant, and what would they do with an infant? If anyone was after the child, that is.
The infant in question was babbling incoherently and rolling around on her stomach. She squealed and he huffed. All he knew about her was the information in her file, which was surprisingly little. Three months old, no name and orphaned, she was of Brazilian heritage and her blood tests located her place of origin as Blüdhaven. She was moved to Gotham to be fostered, which is one of the stupidest decisions he’s ever heard of.
The foster parent in question was Daniel ‘Danny’ Nightingale. Nightingale showed incredible intelligence, graduating upper primary school two years early and high school in two. Currently a student at Gotham University Nightingale was double majoring in chemistry and aerospace engineering when he decided to apply for a New Jersey foster license, which he was given due to already having one in both Wisconsin and Ohio as well as his incredible record.
Nightingale was in the room with him and the infant. He was 14 years of age and had short black hair much like himself, but Nightingale was disturbingly pale and had almost ultramarine blue eyes. Nightingale was sitting with the child in front of his place on the couch. There was a gate in a circle connected to each end of the couch that contained a multitude of children’s toys and a few books. The infant was currently playing with a keychain-like toy while Nightingale entertained her.
One part of him wanted to sit and stew in his contempt, but the other, the son of the Bat, was deeply curious. What was so special about this child that it warranted him–an Al Ghul, Robin, heir to the mantle of Bat and Demons Throne–to act as bodyguard? Was it her heritage—correction, what was her heritage, because there was no other reason for her to be hunted. What else could it possibly be?
But when he began paying attention to the infant, it made him realize that the child was not the oddity he was sent to watch, but Nightingale. Nightingale acted normal for the most part, but when the infant made a certain sound–a loud shriek–his pupils would retract and slit before expanding again, like a cats. That wasn’t the oddest thing he noticed.
Nightingales teeth were sharp, and the more he babbled and cooed at the infant the more teeth Damian could see. It appeared all his teeth were canines except for the teeth in the normal place for canines. Those four teeth were long and thin, like a vipers. When the light hit his eyes his pupils shimmered, like a cat or an owls. His ears, which were slightly pointy, twitched every now and then. His nails were noticeably sharp as well, and his voice would sometimes distort. As if a record player were malfunctioning.
And the infant would respond! Respond in that same distorted tongue. That loud shriek would turn into a two second wail that made his heartbeat rise to his ears and his vision blur. Then she would giggle or coo and it would end. He had to do something. Those wails were coming more and more often now, and she was starting to lose shape.
“What is this?” Damian snapped. “Don’t worry,” Nightingale told him gently, “this is normal for her species.” He blinked and processed his words. Species. She wasn’t human. “I’m surprised the Bat picked up on it,” Nightingale continued, “Humans aren’t usually susceptible to this sort of thing. But I also sorta expected it? Because he’s, y’know, Batman.”
Nightingale smiled sweetly as she shrieked again, her outline blurring and walls shaking. He could feel his teeth rattling in his head. Suddenly Nightingales jaw unhinged with a quick clicking sound, as if his bones were straining and breaking, and an even louder whistle-hissing sound came from between his now many, many teeth. She stopped, her mouth in an ‘O’ and her eyes wide. He didn’t notice before, but an infant her age shouldn’t have teeth. Especially that sharp. And her eyes were a light yellow color, like straw.
Then she giggled, and began babbling like she didn’t just use a sonic voice ability similar to Black Canary’s. “Dawww,” Nightingale cooed, tickling her, “she’s developing quickly! Garalings usually only start fawning when they start walking.” Damian watched warily. He didn’t want to get any closer, in all honesty. His ears were ringing.
But he was curious, so, so, curious. What was a Garaling? What was fawning and why did they do it after they began walking? Could all Garalings do this ‘fawning’? Compared to other Garalings, exactly how fast is she developing? Is early development common?
Start with the most important. “What is a ‘Garaling’?” Nightingale smiled at him again. “Garalings are an extradimensional species that reside in a place called The Valley. They act as lords of nature and patrons of a chosen plant or animal. Her fawning,” he tapped her nose and she giggled, “will soon turn into either an animal sound or a sound of her own.”
“Fascinating,” he muttered, “is it an attack?” “More like a call to arms,” Nightingale leaned back, relaxed, as the infant shook her toy. “Gathering her chosen animal or plant for whatever she needs.” Damian watched her chew on the toy, drooling and babbling.
“What are you?” “I’m dead. Well, sort of. How to explain this…” He thought for a moment. “Think of me….as the line between life and death, but not exactly limbo. More like I move the line. Sometimes more dead, and sometimes more alive. But always a bit of both.” Damian couldn’t help but be reminded of Todd. And himself.
“Your not from this earth.” Nightingale smiled sadly. “I used to be. But not anymore. Even so I can’t bring myself to fully leave, though I probably should.” “Why? What makes you stay?” Nightingales eyes drifted away, back to the infant. “I want to continue the life I never got to finish. Experience the things I never got to experience. Do what I always wanted to do, even if it’s too late.”
He could understand that. Nightingale looked to be his age. To be ripped from life so soon was something he worried about constantly. Knowing that Nightingale was…..He understood wanting to stay, to pretend to be alive.
“What brought her here?” Nightingales face tightened. “Cultists.” He sounded annoyed. “They exist in every world and their always fond of sacrificing children. Even though my summons specifically say if I’m offered children or anyone unwilling I’ll destroy the cult.” It took Damian a moment to understand the implications.
“….who are you?” Nightingale smiled at him again, and for a second his outline wavered like the infants had. “I am Danny Phantom, High King of the Infinite Realms, the afterlife dimension. I rule over everything and everyone who’s died, if they’ve stayed dead or not. I am The Warm Winter, The Space Between, The Brightest Star. I act as Defender Of The Undead.”
“And what do you plan on doing with her? Why did you take her if you do not accept living offerings?” It was suspicious. Even though Nightingale–Phantoms titles painted him as benevolent, and his stance on sacrifice was very pacifistic, Damian knew better than to trust him just on those facts alone.
But he was being very honest, and it made him wonder why. Compared to Phantom, he was microscopic, a nuisance even. Why was he answering all his questions with seemingly endless transparency? “Because her parents were apart of the cult that offered her, which is unfortunately a common case. I had to bring her here because I already have another offering child going to school here.”
“Another?” He tilted his head, eyes narrowing. “How many children have you kept?” He suddenly had a feeling. Not a bad one, just…a feeling. Phantom thought for a moment. “Well the first was Sirius, she’s from a dimension where people are made completely out of star matter. She doesn't live with me anymore since she’s all grown up now, but she’s a really popular singer in the Realms! I can see if she set up her inter dimensional and universal site, her music is great!”
“Casey is my second, he was offered when he was about ten and he’s from a universe that’s essentially the same as this one but everyone has magic. He’s currently in his home dimension in school as well. He specializes in hydrokinese but he’s trying to learn Essokineses. He’s a really quick learner but has a tendency to either give zero or a hundred, no in between.”
“A few months after that I was offered a pair of twins in their twenties. Well, they were built to look to be in their twenties, their actual age is, as of now, seven. Their from a world where hyper realistic androids have no rights and are destroyed if they develop sentience, so when they did they were offered to me because they thought it would get through my rule. They named themselves Poppy and Posies. They don’t like to leave the Realm so their being homeschooled. They really enjoy learning and playing, and Poppy’s favorite thing to do is dance and Posies is jewelry making.”
“I got another infant from a dimension where everyone’s a centaur a few weeks ago. I named her Amaranthe and her lower half’s a sheep! She’s so cute. She’s not the best at walking yet but she loves jumping whenever she can. She likes playing perk-a-boo with the handmaidens. And the child going here is Aiden, he was offered a few months ago. He was originally from Kentucky but everyone in his hometown was apart of the cult and Lady Gotham likes me so we’re here now. He’s still rattled but being on earth helps him so he can stay as long as he likes. He wants to get into a trade school.”
“And this—“ Phantom tapped the infant on the nose, who giggled and grabbed his finger. “Is Velvet! Like I said she’s a Garaling from The Valley. I literally got her two weeks ago so her fake identity is pretty rushed and I think Batman could tell which is why you’re here. But I need to be here for Aiden, so she’s probably going to stay with me for at least another four weeks or until her room in the Realms is ready.”
“You have an adoption problem,” He groaned. God forbid his Father learn about this even though he knew he had to show him the footage being collected from his mask. Phantom laughed. “Probably. But it’s not like I could just give them away to someone else. Well, I could. But I don’t want to. I don’t have any family other than my sister, and she’s still alive. So it’s nice to have people running around the castle.”
He respected it. Even though he was suspecting Phantom was older than he appeared, his physical appearance was probably the age he died at, he was still going out of his way to take in not only traumatized adults and children but infants. He’d never dealt with infants but he had no doubt that they were a handful, even though Phantom said he had handmaidens he didn’t seem like the type to let them do everything.
“Have you had any problems with vigilantes such as myself? I know Batman can be quite forceful and rude if he encounters something he does not understand.” Phantom allowed Velvet to shake his fingers with surprising strength. “Nope! I’m very good at staying under the radar. That’s why I was so surprised when Batman sent you. Like I said, humans aren’t usually capable of picking up on things like the undead. But it’s probably that contaminated ecto you and him are covered in. Can I ask you about that, by the way?”
Contaminated Ecto? “Whatever do you mean by ‘contaminated’? What is this ecto?” Phantom held his hand up and Damian watched, fascinated and horrified, as Lazarus water bled from his skin and rose into a ball. “This is ectoplasm! Every ghost is made of it. It’s our blood, flesh and atoms all in one. Judging by the look on your face you’ve seen it before?”
Damian cleared his suddenly dry throat. “Uh, yes. We call it Lazarus water, and it comes from Lazarus Pits.” Phantoms eyes narrowed. “Pits? Like, a natural or artificial hole in the ground? It doesn’t move or flow in and out? It just sits there?” Damian told him yes and explained the way the League used the Pits, the effects of being revived or healed by the water. By the end Phantoms carefree attitude had left and in its place was someone who held himself like a king.
“Let me put Velvet to bed.” He waved his hand and the gate and various toys began to float and put themselves away as he picked up Velvet and walked away. He was alone for a few minutes, watching as the toys stacked neatly in a toy box and thinking. There was a whole species of people made out of Lazarus Water. Ectoplasm. Pure ectoplasm. What he’d experienced, had contact with, was apparently so corrupted that Phantom had noticed it.
Phantom came back and sat next to him, running a hand through his hair. “Ok, so; ectoplasm has a mind of its own. It connects with and enhances emotions. That’s why a lot of ghosts are angry or sad. Because the ectoplasm connects with the feelings they had when they were dying, and that’s why ghosts are so emotional. It’s all we’re made of. Some people don’t become ghosts but their emotions do. We call those blob ghosts.”
Phantom looked disturbed. “Ectoplasm can’t just sit there or else it’ll start to deteriorate, mold. It’ll become poisonous, borderline radioactive. It needs to be moving and connected with more ectoplasm to filter it out. Yes it does having insane healing properties but it’s not supposed to hurt you. Never supposed to hurt you. Again it has a mind of its own. Most ectoplasm wants to create new life, heal and help. If this Lazarus water is hurting people, it’s because it wants to. And that’s really, really bad.”
“You said it was boiling?” Damian nodded. “That’s also not good. Ectoplasm is supposed to be cold. That’s why most people who contact ghosts feel cold or the temperature drop. I’ve never heard of ectoplasm boiling before.” Phantom looked very troubled. “You said these pools are controlled by the League of Assassins?” At his nod he waved his hand and a small white circle appeared next to him.
Through the circle he could see only what appeared to be a bookshelf. Phantom traced the spine of a few before pulling one out and closing the circle, flipping through the book. Damian leaned over to read. It seemed to be a list of people. At first he didn’t recognize them, but then the name The Sensei appeared at the top of a page labeled ‘The Demons-Al Ghul’
It was a family tree. One he’d seen and studied more than a million times. It showed his ancestors, great grandfather, Ra’s, his Mother, Dusan, Nyssa, even Mara and I’son. And him. Phantom pointed at his name. “Is this you?” He swallowed.
There wasn’t any real point in lying. He already knew, but if his Father found out he’d get in trouble despite the recording showing Phantom had figured it out himself. “Uh, yes. Yes it is.” Phantom nodded then flipped more pages before coming across a map. He folded the page out and Damian saw it was seven small but detailed maps. Maps of the locations of the Pits.
“Holy shit,” he muttered, “Phantom you can not let anyone find this book. If this got into the wrong hands—“ Phantom laughed. “Don’t worry, Damian. These kinds of books are only in the castle library. No one other than me and my family can get in there.” He flipped through a few more pages before coming across one with a sketch of the Lazarus Pits. Phantoms eyes scanned the pages quickly, growing more concerned the more he read.
“Do you have any of these symptoms? The anger, lost time and enhancement?” Damian bit his lip. “I…used to. The Pit rage and blackouts faded after time and I have no enhancement that I know of. But, one of my brothers, Jason Todd…” Phantom muttered the name, opening another circle and pulling out another book. He flipped through it quicker than before and pointed at a page near the back.
“Jason Peter Todd-Wayne?” Damian nodded. Phantom sighed again. “He’s a revenant, an angry spirit that was put to rest and then forced back into life. It’s no wonder these symptoms stuck with him; this Pit probably attached itself to his barely formed core. It’s a miracle his body’s still functioning.”
“What’s a core?” Damian leaned over and red more names in the book, all unrecognizable. “A core is a ghosts soul. Each core has a sort of unique elemental power or structure to them. I have an ice core.” Phantom opened his hand and Damian watched as wisps of ice and snow rose out of his palm.
“Ok, so; a ghosts age depends on how long they’ve been dead for and how developed their core is. So someone who dies at a hundred will suddenly become a newborn ghost. Ghosts get more powerful with time, and depending on how violently they died they might become newborn ghosts who are already really powerful. I was one of those instances.”
Phantom opened another circle and pulled out another book. “Every new ghost will usually search for or be found by an older ghost who’ll become their caretaker or ‘parent’. These ghosts are supposed to teach the new ghosts about their powers, what type of ghost they are, how their religious beliefs will affect their afterlife. I had a really, really old ghost named Clockwork.”
Phantom flipped through the pages again and showed him one. It seemed to be a medical diagram of a ghost. It was fascinating; they didn’t appear to have muscles or organs, but rather this core acted as not only their stomach and heart but their brain. In fact their whole body seemed to be one big vein, the whole thing circulating this ectoplasm throughout it.
“Finding a new ‘parent’ is really, really important. Like I said before ghosts are nothing but emotions. So when we get lonely, it’s like a major depressive episode. We start hurting ourselves and others, we do things that go against our beliefs or moral codes, we do anything to bring any sort of attention to ourselves. Is this similar to anything Jason went through after being forced back?”
“I believe so? I don’t know what he was really thinking, but he definitely did horrible things that he would never have done before.” Damian didn’t miss the wording Phantom used. Forced. Todd didn’t come back to life, he was dragged back. Ra’s wanted to come back, his Father wanted to come back, he wanted to come back. But Todd had been put to rest somehow. Todd had moved on.
“If Todd had moved on before being forced back, why would he react so violently? If he’d been at peace, why all the anger?” Phantom closed the book and pulled out another, flipping through it to another diagram, but this time it was of a core. It was cut up the way he’d seen cells be in schoolbooks. “I honestly don’t entirely know, and I would have to see Jason or take him to one of my doctor's, but I think it’s because of the Pit.”
“As I said, ectoplasm is slightly sentient. But if this Lazarus water is working the same way normal ectoplasm does but maliciously, then Jason’s entire core might be made out of this corrupt ecto. It might have connected with one of his dying feelings, anger, and blew it out of proportion.” Damian bit the inside of his cheek. Todd would not be happy to learn his new soul is made out of mold and corruption. He’d take it the completely wrong way.
“How would we fix something like this? If a core is every organ, how would we get rid of the Lazarus water his very soul is now made of?” Phantom thought again. “Maybe we could flush it? Like, get him pills or an IV of pure ectoplasm and try to push it out. I don’t really know, but I know a doctor who might.” Damian hesitated before speaking again.
“…Would the Lazarus water fight back? Is it sentient enough to do that? What if by doing this it inadvertently harms him?” Phantoms made a displeased sound. He snapped the book closed and put it back in the portal before turning to him. “I don’t know, but I can find out. The book said there’s one of theses Pits in the Batcave, is that true?” He saw where this was going.
“My father would never let you in,” he started, “But you can bring me some.” Phantom finished. “I can get you some transport-safe tubes from one of my doctors, and they can look it over and find out how it works. If we find out a way to purify it, we may be able to use that to purify all the pits.” It was optimistic, but hell, he could use some hope in his life. And if he got caught, the mask footage would be his saving grace.
“If it is for the purpose of curing Todd of his Pit madness, then I will do whatever needs to be done. Where will you get these containers?” Phantom smiled and opened another portal, this time showing what looked like a laboratory table filled with beakers and containers with a green tint. Phantom grabbed five vials with stoppers and tongs. He handed them to him, and then grabbed a rack and gave him that as well.
“Want me to open one to the Batcave?” “If you wouldn’t mind.” That’ll make it far easier to get to and from, and lessen his chances of getting caught. Phantom stood and opened a much larger white circle, and it showed the closely guarded Lazarus Pit that was deep in the cave. He quickly filled the vials and went back in the apartment. “What now?” Phantom secured the tops with ice before replying, “Now I take this to the Far Frozen. That’s where the best doctors in the Infinite Realms are, they’re a group of Yetis.”
“How long will it take you? How long will it take for them to test it?” “I don’t know,” Phantom opened a larger portal, showing a frozen tundra. There seemed to be a large cave of ice in the distance. “But I’ll be back as soon as possible. We’ll find a way to get rid of the Lazarus Pits, and purify your brother. I promise.” He said it with such certainty and confidence that for a second Damian fully believed him.
In a flash of white Phantom’s hair had turned a snow white and his eyes Lazarus–ectoplasm green. He was wearing a black suit similar to a superhero’s with white gloves and boots, and he had what looked to be a crown of northern lights. He had a white cape that’s inside showed stars, and the absolute power he radiated almost knocked Damian down. Phantom smiled at him, reassuringly and calm, then stepped into the portal. It closed without a sound, and Damian was left with his thoughts.
#damian wayne x danny fenton#damian x danny#dead serious#ghost king danny#dc x dp crossover#damian wayne#danny phantom#Aw hell yeah WORLDBUILDING BABY#No dead serious in the actual mini fic but I wanted it to be an endgame#I might continue this? But you totally can if you want!#Please continue this#I have#So many fics
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Can I please request dom! Lucifer eating you out? I just know that man is very talented with his tongue
a/n: say less, really; short and sweet lovin' from Luci
warnings: nsfw, eating out, cursing, dom dom Luci
words: 676
additional notes: Thank you all so much for 110+ followers! It means the world to me that you guys enjoy my writing so much!
"Luxury of the King."
Dom! Lucifer Morningstar x Reader
The white, silk sheets beneath you rustled softly. Gentle puffs of air left your lips, saliva coating their plush surface in a light layer. The familiar black dots began aligning along the edges of your vision. Chest rising and falling with erratic patterns; a light sheen of sweat adorning your brow, seeping lightly into your hairline. You felt and looked like the epitome of an absolute wreck.
And it was all because of the man who's head was currently buried between your legs.
Despite your clear state of overstimulation, he was a relentless predator. Well, his forked tongue, rather. It worked against and inside you, like you would be the last thing it ever got to taste. Flicking against you, tasting all of the sweet nectar you had to provide for him. He was determined to eat you dry.
"I-I'm sorry, darling. You just taste s-so...fuck...so damn good."
His mouth continued its assault against you, making sure to take his time and devour you all in the same set of actions.
If he could just stay in between your legs all hours of the day, oh how he could die a happy man. No worries or strife, just you splayed out for him, presenting yourself as a canvas for his tongue to travel. He gulped at the thought.
You truly were the best luxury a king like himself could have.
Lucifer knew he didn't deserve you. He always asked himself how he got so damn lucky with happening upon you, but he never got too curious upon questioning, nor greedy when it came to your services. This was enough to take him all the way to Heaven and back. What more could he possibly ask for, other than your lovely company?
He noticed how your hips were now beginning to move more, as if trying to get away from his relentless tongue. Just the thought of your sweet taste being abandoned from his warm, forked muscle made his pupils slit and eyes narrow. In response, he placed a gentle yet authoritative hand on your lower tummy, pushing your trembling hips downwards to the mattress; that's where they were to stay until he was done with you. You were a gift from Heaven he was sure, and Hell be damned if he didn't savor it. Just thinking that seemed like madness. Lucifer wanted to taste everything you had to offer him. Every. Single. Thing.
"Stay still. Don't you dare try to move away from me." He growled, voice dropping much lower than its normal octave, causing you to flinch in surprise. His head had come up and out from between your legs, almost enticing a whine from your throat at the loss of stimulation, yet a sigh of relief at the same time for the smidgen of a break you were currently being blessed with.
The sudden change in his attitude was a bit of a surprise, but you'd be lying if you said it wasn't hot as hell. The puppy dog side of your boyfriend was what you were most used to, so seeing him act this way instead was a very nice change of pace. You could never be scared of him; your safe word was always at your disposal if you felt he was being too demanding or rough, and he knew it too. So unless you used it, he would continue with his advances.
You looked at him through half-lidded eyes and offered the best nod you could manage with the state you were in, letting your head fall back to its original position on the fluffed pillows, lungs grasping for any sort of air they could muster up.
He gave a low nod back, a sly smile gracing his lips as he licked around them in order to clear off the remnants of your juices that he had yet a chance to devour like the other servings he managed to obtain.
"Good..." He said with a pointy smirk, before lowering his head once again to get right back to work.
#hazbin hotel x you#xreader#hazbin hotel lucifer x reader#hazbin hotel x y/n#lucifer#lucifer hazbin#lucifer hazbin hotel#lucifer magne#lucifer morningstar x reader#lucifer x reader#hazbin hotel#hazbin hotel lucifer#lucifer x reader smut#hazbin lucifer#lucifer morningstar#smut#dad beat dad#hazbin hotel oneshot#request#hazbin hotel request
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A cheerful lavender bear
Bearsy's person's original email included a brief bio of the cheerful lavender bear:
When I was 4 years old my mom bought me this bear that I have loved for the past 18 years. It has travelled to 3 different countries w/ me and I’ve slept with it every night of my life. Bearsy has seen better days. I’ve already sewn up the cheek seams, back of the neck, and back of the head. I’m now noticing more tears on the neck as well as some on her belly. She also has had all the paint on her eyes scratched off my 4 year old me. After years of being hugged her stuffing has deflated a lot. She has some bald patches and what remains of her fur I nuzzle my face on.
Here are the diagnosis photos she sent:
As you can see, Bearsy's applique and smile are very important parts of her, but her fur had worn to almost all backing, and her person was hoping to restore the original texture. So we agreed to recover Bearsy, transplanting the appliques onto the new fabric.
Her person also wanted her to enjoy a spa, and have her vision restored while she was here. It took a couple of months for Bearsy to work up the courage to fly all the way across the country to California, but she did, and she quite enjoyed her bubble bath on arrival:
While she was drying, I ordered special lavender fur for her, and we agreed on her new eyes. Soon, she was soft and fuzzy again with her new fur and ready to be restuffed and of course she got a heart with her original stuffing:
And here she is all better, with her transplanted smile and belly applique, all new fur, and 20/20 vision.
She flew home to Pennsylvania and her person wrote:
Bearsy is home!! Thank you so so much for taking care of her. I can't wait to have many more years of adventures and snuggles with her. Thank you for breathing life back into her.
#teddy bear repair#stuffed animal repair#care bear#lavender bear#teddy bear#stuffed animals#stuffed animal cleaning#teddy bear cleaning#care bears
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Lift Me Off My Feet
Chapter 3: Poltergeist
Masterlist
Original Thought - Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3 - Part 4 - Part 5 - Part 6 - Part 7 - Part 8 - Part 9 - Part 10 - Part 11 - Part 12
3.8k Words
Warning/Notes: Ghost x Reader, a little of ass eating from Ghost, fingering, a bit mean Ghost, hair pulling, angst.
“Hey, Birdie.”
“Hey, Ghost.”
The two of you look at each other, each expecting the other to make a move. But since he doesn't seem bothered by the silence, you break it.
“Here for work or pleasure?” You ask opening the door as he chuckles.
“Well, that's not my choice.” He answers looking at you. “Half and half, I suppose.”
“Why is that?” You ask as you enter your flat, leaving the door open for him to enter. But when you notice he is not moving you turn to him. “Are you gonna come in or do I need to invite you like a vampire?”
You see the smile on his eyes (mainly because that's the only thing you can see of his face), and he impulses himself off the wall as he walks closer to your door.
“And what would your neighbours think? A girl like you letting a man like me inside her house?” He asks cocking his head.
“Well, actually, I don't know if you have heard. But just last night my neighbour was taken by the police because turns out he was a terrorist or something like that, I'm not sure. So I think I am out of the competition for worst neighbour of the year, so, yeah, please c’mon in.”
You hear him chuckle behind your back as you walk into your room, and a little later you hear the door close. Maybe calling it a room is a big stretch, your whole flat is a room. A small hall that goes from the door to where your bed is, a door on the hall to your bathroom and another one to your kitchen.
Having breakfast in bed sounds great, but having lunch and dinner sounds a bit sad. But that's the flat you could get, and honestly, thanks to your neighbour's hobbies, at least you know the rent is not going to go higher.
“You know, jumping the wall on your balcony was ridiculously easy, you should probably get a lock for that window.” He comments looking at your window as he enters your line of vision.
“Then I would lose my deposit.” You answer sitting down on your bed to take off your shoes. You take off your jacket next and hang it in your closet. “Are you hungry?”
“Hmm, depends on what's the offer.” He says leaning against the wall again. He follows you with his gaze as you walk to your kitchen and open the fridge with a face. He chuckles when you close the door back and look at him. “Takeout?”
“Takeout it is.” You answer taking your phone out. “What do you fancy, Ghost?”
“You know? Most people freak out when I get inside their house, don't ask me what I want for dinner.” He says crossing his arms.
“Should I freak out?” You ask looking at him with an eyebrow raised as you lend him your phone with the delivery app open. “Order whatever you want, I'm no picky. I'm gonna take a shower, if the food gets here there is money behind that frame.”
You point out the only frame on your whole house and walk into the bathroom. You try to walk with confidence, but once inside the room, you let a sight escape your lips.
When you said yesterday you were going to push Price and Kyle away, you didn't mean it as in pulling the rest of the team closer.
This is bad, is mean and honestly, you must be on some weird week of your cycle where you are producing more pheromones than usual because you were chronically single for years and now can't seem to catch a break.
You open the tap to wait for the water to warm up as you undress. Just as you take your shirt off your pants you notice you didn't pick your pyjamas, so you walk back out.
You see Ghost seated on your bed, back leaning against the headboard, feet dangling off the bedside and scrolling through your phone.
“You can take off your shoes, you know.” You comment as you pick up the plaid pants and massive sweatshirt you wear to sleep as well as your underwear.
“You are a sneaky one, you know.” He responds looking at you almost offended he didn't hear you exit the bathroom.
You chuckle at him and walk back inside the bathroom. The shower helps you calm your nerves, the man is in your bed, and he hasn't made any moves yet; probably because he is not into you, you need to humble yourself a bit.
At some point you hear the doorbell and your stomach grumbles almost as a reaction. You quickly finish your shower, put on your clothes and walk back to the room.
“Chinese?” You ask when you see the containers as he stays looking around. “Let me get the table out.”
You say winking at him when he looks at you confused and he gets even more confused when you kneel before him. You look up at him, laughing internally at what he must be thinking and then you get your nice arm under the bed and pull the foldable table under it. You take it out and with a shake, you unfold it, take your seat on the bed in front of the table and tap the bed next to you. “Have a seat.”
He sits next to you, his thigh pressed against yours and he takes the container out of the bags opening them.
After a little, you decide to finally talk about the elephant and the room and ask: “So, did you just drop by in hopes I would invite you to dinner or do you actually have a mission today, Ghost?”
“Oh, yeah, about that. I actually had two missions today.” He says pulling his mask up so he can eat. You try not to stare at the little skin showing, but you quickly notice the stubble on his jaw. Blonde. “First one, finding out we're the girl from the captain's office was. That one was easy, thankfully cause the captain was freaking out. And the second one, figuring out why she left. That one is still ongoing.”
“And if the captain was freaking out why is it you the one that's on my house?” You ask looking at your plate, curious enough to ask but not brave enough to look.
“Cause he was scared the reason you ran away, was because of him or something he did. So he didn't want to make it worse.” He answers simply, you can feel his eyes on you. He bends down a bit to be able to see your face and ask. “Is that why you ran?” You shake your head. “Then why? It looks like you had fun.”
You turn to him with furrowed eyebrows and notice that he is looking at your neck, you remember the lovebites and quickly try to cover them with your hand.
“It was just…” you sigh. “I know when I am no longer wanted, and rather than make it awkward by making him drive me back or having to say bye I just… got out before he woke up.”
“Hm, I still think you should talk to him. I’m pretty sure he wouldn't agree with you with the ‘not being wanted’ thing” He says doing quotation marks with a hand and taking his phone out to send a message with the other.
“He doesn't even know my name. Neither do you.” You almost mumble. I’m just another one on the list, you think. “I think he will be just fine.”
He winces as if he was in pain and says. “You a tough one, birdie.” He cleans off the rest of his plate and stands up. “You don't know my name either and you don't see me throwing a hissy fit.”
“I'm not throwing a hissy fit.” You say rolling your eyes.
“Did you… Did you just roll your eyes at me, birdie?” He says moving the table and standing between your legs. “Now that” He says pointing at your face. “That's a brat move.”
“I'm not a brat!” You try to defend yourself standing up, but as quickly as you get on your feet, Ghost manhandles you to be laying down on your stomach. He sits on top of your ass immobilising your hips and grabs your arm putting them behind your back leaving you unable to move. “Ghost, what the fuck?!”
“Language.” He says and you feel a hard slap land on your ass cheek making you yelp. “Are you going to behave or should I teach you a lesson, birdie?”
“What? What are you talking about? Get off me.” You mumble squirming under him.
“No, I don't think I will until you learn.” He chuckles as he begins to grind against your ass. He bends down to talk to up to your ears. “You should be grateful, that I found you and not Price. Do you know what he would have done if he found out you got back, walking, alone, in the middle of the night?” Three more hard smacks land on the same cheek when he sits up. “And that alone, without talking about the fact you were missing a shirt. And didn't even say goodbye. Not a phone number, not a name, nothing.” He lands two more on the same cheek and an even harder one on the other cheek. Leaving your arse burning and you wouldn't be surprised if it bruised, but still, the most surprising thing about the situation is that you can feel your underwear sticking to your cunt.
You truly are learning about yourself these days.
He grabs two handfuls of the meat of your arse, pushing your cheeks together as he grinds with a grunt. Then he lets go, you hear the unmistakable sound of his belt being undone and it sends anxiety up your column. He must sense it because he says: “Calm down, birdie. I'm not giving you my cock until you beg for it, and only if you deserve it. And trust me, you don't.”
He takes his belt off, aligns your forearms and ties them together behind your back.
“Are you going to talk to Price? You can still leave unscattered.” He asks, putting his hands beside your head and leaning in to be closer to your face.
You look back at him from over your shoulder, face still push against your mattress, and try to look offended by how easily he got you tied, immobilised and horny. “I don't know.”
He makes the sound of a buzzer, like in the contest when they answer wrong. “Not what I want to hear, birdie.”
His index finger hooks the waistband of your pyjama pants as well as your panties, right above your ass and he pulls them down slowly. You hear him whistle as he pulls them down, feeling the cold hair of the room against your skin and against your glistering cunt. “I think I'm going to start by the desert tonight.”
He lands a loud smack on your naked arse, and when you try to complain, the sound gets strangled into a moan when you feel his tongue against your puckering hole. Getting your ass eaten by the mysterious masked man was not on your plans for tonight, but you are not complaining.
You moan against the mattress, biting the sheets to try and conceal the sounds leaving your mouth. Your consolation, is the fact that you can feel Ghost moan against your skin, the vibrations travelling up to your nape giving you goosebumps.
He gets his hands under your hips pulling them up, leaving you completely exposed. Ass up, face down, arms tied and knees together by your pants. He pulls back for a second to admire his job, you look already ruined and it's been less than a couple of minutes.
You await, expectant, his next move, every single thought that was on your mind about how you should push him away and stand your ground, is silenced by the feral voices of your mind scratching the walls with the need for his mouth to be back on you.
“Look at you, birdie. Such a good girl all of a sudden. You are not a brat, you just need that attitude fuck out of you, right, doll?” He asks massaging your waist with both hands.
“Fuck you.” You mumble, and Ghost lands a slap right to your cunt making you scream and arch your back to find distance from him.
“Language, birdie!” He says chuckling, amused with the situation. “C’mon, play nice, love. Are you going to talk to Price?”
His finger starts to travel up and down your slit, collecting the juices flooding from your cunt. He teases your entrance without getting inside.
“No.” You declared, tired of being played with.
“No?” He ask genuinely surprised. “Oh, I think you will.” He lands another hard slap on your pussy, right on your clit, and position his fingers so that when you arch your back again, you fuck yourself right into his finger. A loud moan escaped your lips at the sudden intrusion.
He raises his hand up to your nape, grabs your hair in a handful and pulls lifting your head off the bed. “I wanna hear you sing, birdie.” His fingers begin to move inside and out of your cunt making you groan softly, raising in volume as his tongue finds her way back to your ass.
You can feel his drool drip down your ass to where his finger is fucking your pussy, only adding to the mess. He uses the knuckle of his middle fingers to brush against your clit making you mewl and causing him to chuckle again. He can feel you clenching around his finger, and he pulls back to ask again. “Are you going to talk to Price?”
“No, fuck, no I won't.” You scream back. And immediately you wish you didn't. Ghost draws his finger back, and remains holding your head but otherwise untouched.
“Wrong answer again, doll. C’mon, tell me what I want to hear and I'll give you what want to get. Are you going to talk to Price?” He asks. “No!” You answer, and the hardest slap to date lands on your ass making you cry out in pain. “Last chance, birdie. Are you going to talk to Price?” He asks again.
You bite your lip, an inner battle going inside your mind. The stubbornness in you taking the lead, not even being reasonable, just stubborn. Another hit snaps you out of it. “Shit! Fine! Whatever, I'll talk to him.”
“Good girl, birdie.” He grumbles against your ear as his fingers start to piston in and out of your cunt, the sting of the stretch by the second finger completely buried under the waves of pleasure. He keeps whispering pure filth onto your ears, unable to hear him over the ring of your ears caused by the stimulus on your weak point.
You feel drool drip down your chin into the sheets, but you can only focus on the tight knot inside your body. It's unfair how easy it seems to be for these men to make you come undone with barely touching you, it makes you think about those mediocre ex-lovers who would put the blame on you for taking so long to cum. Fuck them, these men, Kyle, Price and Ghost had you coming in minutes without even taking off their clothes.
Ghost brushed his knuckles against your clit again, and you can only moan his name before you are gushing over his hand. He helps you ride out your orgasm and slowly draws back his fingers.
He stands up chuckling softly, you hear him walk into the bathroom, you hear the faucet open and close and then hear him walk back.
You feel the cold wet towel between your legs and it makes you jump off the surprise. “Sorry, you spend all the warm water, doll.” He says still snickering. He drops the towel on the table, pulls your underwear and pants up, takes his belt back and lies next to you caressing your hair. “Solid, birdie?”
You shake your head. “Pretty sure I'm liquid now, Ghost” You say absent-mindedly and rub your eyes as you yawn. He may have fingered the attitude out of you, but he also fuck the energy out.
“I think it's time for me to leave, thank you for the dinner, birdie. And for the desert.” He says, smiling at you. He lands a peck on your temple and stands up. “Lock your door when I leave. And talk to Price.”
When he turns his back at you, you roll your eyes standing up as well to close the door. He turns on his heels and looks down on you. “And don't roll your eyes at me, birdie. Don't give me an attitude. Lock the door.” He says and lights a cigarette as he makes his way out of the building.
While you're are cleaning everything, tidying your room, getting ready to get into your bed when you get a message from a contact that is just a skull emoji.
💀: Lock the door, birdie.
That's what you get for trusting him with you phone to order food.
“So she didn't say why?” Price asks Simon as he sits in the booth at the pub.
The both of them met there, a pub close to your house, Price too anxious to wait to get back to base to find out about Ghost’s discoveries.
“Negative.” Ghost answers setting the pints down. “She did make a great point, Captain.”
“Which is?” Price ask expecting
“We don't even know her name. Well, we do because of the background check we did to find her, but any of us have asked her.” Ghost responds. “And I thought you were the less hotheaded of the team, Captain.”
Ghost shakes his head as he laughs.
“Maybe try to talk to her when you are not saving her life? Maybe she will feel less overwhelmed then.” Ghost says taking his phone out to check his messages when he notices the vibrations. “Talking about the little bird.”
🐦: I told you I locked the dor
🐦: door*
💀: Awesome
🐦: ?
🐦: Go away, Ghost
💀: What are you talking about, birdie?
🐦: Stop messing with my door, I'm trying to sleep, you weirdo.
💀: It's not me.
💀: Are you sure it's your door and not your neighbours?
🐦: what neighbour?
💀: You and the terrorist are the only tenants on the building?
🐦: STOP MESSING WITH THE DOOR
🐦: You are giving me the deposit money if you break it.
💀: I'm not at the door.
💀: Birdie?
💀: Don't ghost me now.
💀: Not on purpose.
💀: Birdie?
Ghost knit his brows at the lack of messages and look up to Price who seems lost in thought. “Maybe we need to save her again, Price. Your heart to heart talk will have to wait.”
7 minutes.
That's all it takes for Ghost and Price to reach your building. Guns in hands as soon as they saw your apartment door busted open.
Price felt his heart sink at the possibility of your being hurt, because of him and his inability to treat you the way he should. Waking up alone didn't hurt as much, he hadn't slept that good in who knows how long, and it was all thanks to the warmth of your body pressed against his.
So now, that only now has he found this comfort, the thought of it being ripped away from him before he could mend his error, was truly heartbreaking.
The nice thing about your house being this small, is that there is not a corner that remains unchecked. And still, you are nowhere to be seen.
But your flat is a mess. The dishes are broken all over the hall and kitchen floor, the fridge is leaning against the wall obviously having been pushed, your clothes are thrown all over the place, your mattress is cut out it's inside thrown around, your clothes mixing with the rest of the mess on the floor, and your wall…
“You will pay for your actions, whore.”
Can be read on the wall, big letters occupying the whole wall.
Your TV is missing, only the metal skeleton that holds it to the wall it's on is place. And your window is busted, that's when he sees it, a chair. On your balcony, as if it was used by somebody to jump.
Price walks up to the balcony so fast, Ghost grabs his shirt unsure of the Captain's plan. “She probably jumped to the apartment next door, Captain. Let's check it.” The younger says to try and calm the Captain. He nods and they both make their way to the apartment next door.
It is just as destroyed as yours, but still, no sign of you. They make their way back to your apartment and Price sits down burying his face on his hands.
Ghost takes out his phone again and he calls you, anxious waiting for you to pick up. But you don't, instead, a silly music begins to sound from under your bed. Tranquillity floods their senses, only for it to be destroyed when the only thing they find is your phone under your bed.
“Fuckin’ hell, birdie. Where are you?” Ghost asks out loud.
THUMD
Both men whip their to the sound, and come face to face with your closet. Now, one of the things you like about your flat, is the closet. Built into the wall. With a ridiculously small space on top of it.
Both men look astonished, as a hand starts to crawl his way out of the false ceiling of the closet. You pop your head next, and when you confirm is the two men and not whoever entered your house just a couple of minutes ago, you start to bawl your eyes out.
When you heard the people force their way into your house, you automatically got yourself into the space on the false ceiling in your closet. You stayed there, contorted into yourself and used every ounce on yourself to not make a noise.
You heard how they rampaged your little home, how they screamed, how they destroyed everything.
It was merely a couple of seconds, but it felt like hours. And when you heard them come back for a second time, you were certain they would hear the beat of your heart. Until you hear what sounded like the sweetest desert on the universe, Ghost's voice, asking where you were.
The sheer fear that just saved your life, now turned you into a sobbing mess of tears and drool as you melt onto Ghost's arms once he holds you.
You feel Price's hand rubbing your back as he kisses your shoulder shushing you.
“It's all right, darling. We are here now. You are safe. No one is going to get to you now.”
Hii! 💗
Hoped you liked the new chapter, reader collecting these men like they are pokemon hehe wish that was me
Taglist: @pagesfalling @thevoidwriting @darkangel4121 @tf141glory @skyler-loves-rick-grimes @ghostlythots @readerofallthingss @onewattson6529 @mynameismothra @xinyiline
#call of duty#call of duty smut#cod smut#poly 141#poly 141 x reader#poly tf141#tf 141 x reader#price#captain price#john price smut#captain price smut#ghost x reader#soap x reader#gaz x reader#price x reader#price x y/n#ghost x y/n#soap x y/n#gaz x y/n#ghost smut#soap smut#gaz smut#cod mw2#cod#kyle gaz garrick#simon riley x reader#ghost#johnny soap mactavish#ghost x you#kyle gaz x reader
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let the mourners come
Title: let the mourners come
Ao3 Link: Only available to Ao3 users
Word Count: 3045
Summary:
It started, as most things do with Danny Fenton, as a joke.
It ended, as most things do with Jazz Fenton, with things better than they were before.
xxXxx
When Danny finally gets a Twitter, it’s during Elon Musk’s shit show takeover. He’s able to secure a good Twitter handle thanks to people leaving en masse and fleeing to Tumblr. He knows about things that happen outside of Amity Park (he is terminally online rather than chronically, after all), but he still doesn’t think anything of using @TheJoker as his handle, even knowing about Gotham City’s clown troubles. It’s just going to be a shitpost account, anyway, one that dances in the chaos of Elon’s electronic graveyard. Nothing will come about him using @TheJoker when he’s merely posting things like, “Just grew a new row of teeth!!! very pointy but can’t go to the dentist anymore bc they might turn me in to the giw.”
So Danny honestly never foresaw The Actual Real Joker breaking out of Arkham Asylum all the way in Gotham City, New Jersey, and deciding to get a Twitter account to terrorize people online as well as offline. And he definitely never foresaw The Joker @’ing him on Twitter, demanding that Danny change his Twitter handle. But, well. Here he was.
[Image Description: A screenshot of a Twitter reply chain, starting with the real Joker @'ing Danny's Twitter account, which uses TheJoker as his Twitter handle. The Joker, who has a verified account, demands that Danny "change your handle", and Danny replies with a simple "no" followed by red heart emoji. The Joker Tweets, "Kid you don't know who you're fucking with," to which Danny replies, "Ye I do ur some dude w/ poor fashion sense and lame jokes. Maybe try badjokesbyjeff bc originality is ugly on u" followed by a shrugging emoticon. The Joker responds, "Check your DMs." Danny then responds, "Perf [happy emoji surrounded by hearts] I've sent you a time and place. Can't wait to beat the shit out of another disgrace of a clown." Someone with the username "Gregg rulz ok" responds to Danny's last Tweet, "Bro is absolutely RATIOING the joker but the clown keeps responding [three skull emojis] embarrassing frfr too bad he's gonna die for realsies".
End ID]
Danny is quick to respond and then makes even quicker work of roasting The Joker. This soon results in The Joker DMing him his IP Address and a creative threat. Still, Danny isn’t about to cow to a clown with no respect for the art of clowning. He replies to the DM:
Cool, meet me at the Nasty Burger parking lot in Amity Park IL on tuesday at 2am
The response from The Joker is quick:
Fourteen year olds are too confident these days
Danny rolls his eyes and ignores the influx of notifications from Twitter, and instead makes another Tweet.
Imagine beefing with someone over a Twitter handle lol acc so embarrassing for him
He blackens his screen and stretches in bed, letting his spine pop more than what is humanly possible. He runs his tongue over that second row of teeth, his lips curling into a grin.
xxXxx
Gothamite Twitter is blowing up over The Joker’s social media beef with a faceless shitposting account. Jason, upon finding out about it, has a series of reactions: first, he looks up the shitposter and follows them. Then, he finds the actual chain between the poster and The Joker, and his vision goes vibrant green when he sees that The Joker’s profile picture is of the second Robin, beaten and swollen in an abandoned building in Ethiopia.
When his vision clears and he can breathe without wanting to kill, he likes the shitposter’s replies, and he calls the Replacement to see if the other Bats know already.
“We know,” Tim says in lieu of a hello when the ringing cuts out. “We’re working on it.”
“What, you think anything’s gonna come of it?” But even as Jason asks, he already knows the answer. The Joker is unhinged and once he’s threatened something, he’ll follow up unless he comes up with a “funnier” option.
Tim’s breath hitches, and he says, “I’ve hacked their DMs. Joker knows the kid’s IP address and sent it to him. He knows everything from that address alone.”
He pauses in the middle of suiting up, “Kid?”
He hears Tim swallow, “Yes, kid. He’s fifteen. And he gave The Joker a specific time and place to meet up to fight. In his own hometown.”
“Are— are you fucking kidding me?”
“No. B is already calling Nightwing. We’re taking the Batwing to Illinois.”
“Jesus fuck. I’ll be there in twenty.”
“Hood, I—”
“Shut up, I’m already in my gear.” He hangs up without waiting for a response.
He refreshes the Twitter feed and barks a laugh at the newest Tweet:
Jason Todd votes, and the Red Hood leaves his safe house.
xxXxx
A commercial flight to Illinois takes around two and a half hours. In the Batwing, they get there in an hour, and don’t even have to worry about the drive from Chicago to a small speck of a town like Amity Park. They spend the quick flight learning everything they can about Daniel James Fenton, the owner of the Twitter account, and they can all sense the growing tension from (and between) Bruce and Jason.
But, well. Jason doesn’t care. Let them be uncomfortable. It doesn’t compare to being ripped back into life and finding out his dad didn’t even get justice for his death.
When they reach town, it doesn’t take long to find the Fentons’ home. This is in part because Amity Park is a very navigable town, and because of the giant neon sign proclaiming FentonWorks on the side of the building.
“Is that a blimp?” Dick asks. “Why don’t we have a blimp?”
“Where would we keep it?” the Demon Brat counters practically. “Goliath takes up all of the Cave’s extra space.”
Jason rolls his eyes and knows veins would be popping out of Bruce’s forehead if it weren’t for the cowl.
“Let’s go,” Bruce says instead, and they all make their way to the house.
Nightwing, predictably, goes for the front door approach. Jason rolls his eyes as he takes one of the second-story windows and finds his way downstairs.
He gets down at the same time that a redheaded girl answers the door and nearly slams it in Dick’s face. Jason has to suppress snickers at the sight.
“Wait, wait, wait, are you Jazz Fenton? We need to talk to your brother!”
“...We?” she asks, then tenses and turns around to see the rest of the Bats in the hall behind her. Dick takes the opportunity to step in completely, closing the door behind him. “Wha— what’s going on?”
“Where are your parents, Jazz?” Bruce makes every question sound like a demand. Jason rolls his eyes from behind his mask—way to put the teenager at ease, B.
“Why do you need to know?” Her voice has a defensive edge to it. “What do you want with Danny?”
“Hey, it’s okay,” Nightwing comforts. “He didn’t do anything too bad, just said some dumb things online. It’s not his fault.”
This relaxes her, and her shoulders begin un-hunching. “Oh, s-so what’d he do?”
“He foolishly challenged The Joker to a battle in a ‘Nasty Burger’ parking lot tonight.”
“You could’ve had some more tact, Robin,” Nightwing scolds. But the Demon Spawn just crosses his arms.
“He did what?” Jazz shrieks. “Like, The Joker from Gotham? That Joker?”
“Are there others?” Red Hood comments dryly.
Her face goes through several different emotions—disbelief, rage, fear, and then rage again, “DANIEL JAMES FENTON! GET DOWN HERE RIGHT NOW!”
There’s a thumping noise, and then frantic footsteps down the stairs.
“Wha? Who died?” asks the figure of a tiny fifteen-year-old, smaller than even Jason had been when he was alone with The Joker. He’s tiny and lanky. Zero muscle definition. Eye bags to rival the Replacement’s. Something ripples in the Pit, deep and distinct, but he can’t name what causes it.
Oh, this kid is so dead.
“Danny,” says Jazz calmly while Danny blinks uncomprehendingly at the heroes in their hallway. She is solemn when she says, “I’m afraid I’m going to have to kill you now.”
“What did I do?”
She stares at him, “Why have you scheduled a fight with The Joker?”
“Oh, that.” He rubs the back of his neck, “Is he taking that seriously?”
“Of course he is, Danny! It’s The Joker! That’s what he does! He can’t differentiate between a joke and reality! He would tear off his own face for the bit!”
“Oof,” is all Danny can muster. He digs his phone out and starts typing before Jazz yanks it out his hand.
“You’re fucking TWEETING about this?” Jazz asks incredulously, and Hood’s hackles rise. She even reads the Tweet aloud, “‘Just found out @TheJ0ker is being fr about fighting me. Sad but i can take a clown.’”
“I was gonna add ‘i’ve done it b4,’ but like the letter and the number four. But yeah.”
“You’re grounded forever.” Danny opens his mouth to protest, but the look Jazz cuts at him is so scathing that he shuts his mouth. Hood is reluctantly impressed—she had what could be cultivated into a fantastic Batglare. She pockets the phone, “You’re never getting this phone back. Taunting The Joker to Amity? Have you any brain cells? What if he brings Joker gas with him, huh? Or any of his goons? What if he starts hurting other people? Have you thought any of this through?”
Danny’s face goes from tired to chastised, his lips drawing into a frown, especially at the mention of other people.
“I’m sorry,” he says. “I didn’t think that he’d take it so seriously.”
“He sent you your IP Address.”
“I thought that was just a random string of numbers?”
“Oh my god,” Jazz despairs. “Oh my god. Grounded forever. See, I know you're lying to me. I know you're lying because Tucker, the nerdiest tech nerd to have ever been born, is your best friend.”
He rubs the back of his neck, “I tune him out?”
“You’re still lying to me?” Jazz scoffs and turns to Batman, “Do whatever you want with him. I’m not going to defend him from this.”
“Hey!” complained her brother, but Batman just continued on, “Where are your parents?”
“They’re in Sweden for a science convention,” Jazz answers. “They left this morning.”
Damn, Jason curses to himself.
“Jazz, seriously. You’re not gonna let Batman kill me, right?”
“Do you want to be cremated or buried, Danny?” Jazz asks blasély, and Danny gulps, refusing to meet anyone’s eyes.
“It’s my Twitter handle,” he mutters petulantly, and Jason can’t believe the gall of this kid. Or maybe stupidity. Audacity’s a good one, too. “If he wanted it, he should’ve gotten it first. And he gives clowns a bad name.”
“Not the clown thing again.” Jazz digs her palms into her eyes, sighs, then turns to the heroes. “He has a whole clown thing ever since Circus Gothica came to town and robbed a bunch of jewelry stores.”
Danny gestures wildly with his hands, as if demonizing clowns was the real problem and not the egomaniacal mass murderer who wanted to murder him for his Twitter handle, “Clowning is an art form, Jazz, and people like Freakshow and The Joker make a mockery of the very serious societal statements that clowns make!”
All of the Bats very carefully Did Not look at Nightwing, who has made very similar rants on quiet patrols.
“You are never leaving this house again,” she says serenely. “And I’m unplugging the wifi router.”
“You would punish even yourself?”
“Oh, little brother. I would watch the world burn if it meant knocking sense into your thick skull.”
“Okay, Christ,” Red Hood finally interrupted the siblings’ melodrama. An unyielding redheaded girl and a mouthy black-haired, blue-eyed boy? They’d fit in a little too well back at the Manor, so Jason needs to cut this shit out before Bruce’s bat-doption instincts start tingling. “Stop. Just… Christ. Stop. Is this how you always interact with each other?”
“Sometimes there’s explosions,” Danny pipes up, a cheeky grin on his face.
Jazz doesn’t dispute it.
Fucking hell. God damn it. I can’t. I just can’t.
Batman doesn’t give anything away, “Robin and Red Robin will be staying here with you until Nightwing, Hood, and I apprehend The Joker. First, we’re going to check the perimeter.”
“Oooh, I get to give the lab tour!”
Lab?
“No lab. You’re grounded. You’ll only be in there for cleaning duty now.”
“Wh– hey! No fair!”
“What’s this lab you two are talking about?” Red Robin asks before Jazz can rip into her brother again.
She sighs, “Our parents’ lab. I’ll show you, but someone needs to stay with Danny.”
“You act like I’m gonna run off and start World War III….”
“I wonder why,” she says sarcastically.
Batman nods to Robin, who nods back, and the rest of them follow Jazz out of the living room to a metal reinforced door. She types in a code—Jason catches the numbers 03-14-99. There’s an assenting beep, and she opens the door, flicking on the lights and leading them down into what is apparently a basement lab.
A stone settles in Red Hood’s stomach, cold and heavy.
The basement is large, likely the floor size of the entire building. There are several work tables, filled with miscellaneous blueprints and spare parts and weapons and tools. Against the farthest wall is another armored door, but what draws Hood’s—and the entire Batclan’s—attention is the south wall, where a circular hole in the wall was glowing a toxic Pit green.
The stone shattered in his stomach, splintering into his body. Is it harder or easier to breathe? Jason can’t tell.
“Wow,” says Nightwing. His voice is cheerful, but Jason can feel the stress beneath it. “Do I even want to know?”
Wasn’t this supposed to just be typical Joker bullshit?
“Our parents are ectobiologists,” Jazz explains nonchalantly, walking further into the lab. “As in, ghost biologists.” She pauses at one of the work tables, picking up a green and white thermos. Pretty boring, considering the rest of their surroundings.
“Ghosts.” Red Robin’s voice is carefully neutral.
“Ghosts,” Jazz reaffirms. “I know. I thought they were crazy at first, too. But I can prove it, if you like.” Then, without waiting for a yes or no, she untwists the thermos, and there’s a bright flash of white, and a whole entire body sprouting out of it.
“WHOO! I’M FREE!” cries the…being, pale and floating and lanky and entirely too big to have fit into a fucking thermos, of all the fucking things. “....And not in the Realms? Wait.” He stops stretching, descending to rest closer to the ground, but still hovering a few inches from the floor. He’s got green eyes and lifeless (ha) blond hair. He’s wearing a trenchcoat and a green skull necklace. Overall, he looks like the type of thug he’d arrest in the Bowery.
“Hello, Johnny.” The man’s—ghost’s?—eyes flicker around each person in the room, his gaze becoming more and more confused and panicked as he takes in each Bat, before settling on Jazz Fenton.
“Why are the fucking Bats here?”
“The Joker’s coming to Amity,” she says. The ghost’s eyes widen. Jazz tilts her head, “How many ghosts would you say passed away in Gotham, Johnny?”
As Jason and the Bats tense, this Johnny guy lets out a wicked laugh, “Oh, Doll, you have the best surprises. Why did we break up?”
“You did try to have my body possessed. That ruins any good relationship.”
“Man, but Kitty’ll love this. Thanks for letting me out of Soup Time, Doll.” He floats higher, “Any advice?”
She throws him the phone she’d confiscated from Danny and he catches it easily, “Everything’s on here. Have fun.”
“What exactly are you planning?” Batman scowls.
Johnny laughs, “Aww, don’t worry, Bats. Peace and love on Planet Earth, or whatever. We’ll make it quick.” Then, as the Bats leap into action as one, Johnny turns invisible, the Batarangs passing harmlessly through where he’d once been floating.
“Where did he go?” Batman turns his scowl, angrier than ever, to Jazmin Fenton, who stares back unflinchingly. “He’s going to solve the problem.”
“You mean he’s going to kill The Joker.”
She shakes her head, “Oh, no. That’d just be asking for him to come back as a ghost. Could you imagine a Joker with powers like invisibility, intangibility, flight, and more? Johnny can be impulsive, but he’s smart. None of them will kill The Joker.”
“Then what are they going to do?” Red Robin asks.
“My parents are ectobiologists,” Jazz repeats from earlier. “But I am more of an anthro-ectopologist. I am concerned with the study of ectoplasmic beings’ societies and cultures. And while it is very ancient, there is protocol in the Infinite Realms—that is, where you go when you die, should you remain after death—to prosecute living criminals who have killed a certain number of Realms citizens. So you don’t have to worry about your moral code, Batman. The Joker will be tried by a much fairer court than Gotham can ever hope to have. No offense.”
Jason stares at Jazz Fenton, who he’d pegged as the sane sibling. He’s not so sure now, but he can’t say he hates it.
“And how do we know it’s a fair trial?” Nightwing asks.
She waves her hand, “Oh, as Gotham’s Knights, you’re key witnesses. I’m sure you’ll be summoned to testify. You will see then. And don’t worry about your secret identities—the dead don’t care much for that sort of thing.”
“So if this is a ‘fair’ trial or whatever, The Joker’s going to be locked up forever?” Jason asks. “I mean, that’s the only option for shit like him.”
Batman sends him a look, but he ignores it.
“Well, there are several different punishments that could be deemed appropriate, but he’ll never be able to set foot in the mortal world again, yes.”
Jason Todd grins, “Oh, I’m glad your brother’s stupid, kid.”
She sighs, long-suffering, “Well, that makes one of us. Still, there’s more important things we should discuss now that you’re here.”
“More important than The Joker trying to kill your brother over a Twitter handle?” Red Robin asks doubtfully.
Jazz smiles, sharp and dangerous, and asks, ”Have you ever heard of the Anti-Ecto Acts?”
xxXxx
Several months later when Danny is finally un-grounded, he Tweets his last three Tweets before Twitter can become the foolishly named X:
Imagine bullying the Joker so hard that it not only lands the Joker in ghost prison BUT it also leads to major law reform in the US lmao someone make the domino effect meme about this pls
Y’allre replying to me with thanks like i did anything other than be an internet troll. My sister literally manipulated local, federal, and interdimensional law so you should be thanking her.
i just a babie 🥺🥺🥺
xxXxx
Thanks for reading! This is the whole fic, so pls do not ask for tags! Thank you :)
#dc x dp#dp x dc#dcxdp#dpxdc#danny phantom#danny fenton#jazz fenton#jason todd#batman#fanfiction#fanfic#ao3#the joker#johnny 13#severely ooc
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