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rboooks · 11 months

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The bakery is a front!...right? Part 3

Danny carefully finished the last details on a special order cake done by his newest and likely most crucial customer should the man like his pastries.

Bruce Wayne's butler was to arrive in twenty minutes for his youngest son's birthday cake. It was a staking tower and three smaller stacks, each depicting a cow on a farm, and a cat sleeping with a dog in the middle of a leap. Damian had asked for a cake that showed all his pets but was vegan.

It was an honestly fun order even if he didn't quite understand the special instructions.

"Damian's school friends mention a fun new "suger energy" coming from this bakery. I want him not to be seen as someone out of touch, so please make sure to add that in," Bruce Wayne said over the phone to a shocked Danny a week prior. If he got Wayne's attention, then soon his bakery would be the newest hot spot in Gotham!

It would be the perfect cover for bringing over more funds from his Ghost Vault and expanding. He could help many more people with employment without bringing the pesky IRS on his head for having unexplainable cash.

Sometimes doing everything by the book was a headache and a half, but if there was one thing Fentons knew how to do, was make their business significantly legal. How else would his parents file taxes for "ghost hunting?"

Handsome possible mate is near. Phantom purred in his mind while Danny spun the cake one last time to ensure everything was in order.

Sure enough Alvin appears at the kitchen door, not quite within the room, staring

. Danny has no problems with who is in his kitchen, but Andres insisted only kitchen staff needed to be back here. Apparently, they didn't have enough legroom to add more people, taking up unnecessary space.

And Andres had a strange urge to keep all their recipes a secret. It was not uncommon in Gotham for big corporations to send in spies and cause small businesses to go bankrupt when selling their secerts.

Danny, knows he's a good baker, has since he was a child. Even before his move, he could convince other ghosts Rogues to stop mid-fight for a snack break because his creations were tasty. While his original recipes falling into the hands of greedy rich men made him squirm, it was primarily due to someone taking credit for his work rather than any funds lost to them.

So after a while, he agreed to Andres' demands and promoted him to store manager. It was easier to have someone from Gotham run a Gotham shop. It left Danny with more time to bake and keep a eye on the community's recovery.

He was so happy to see that overdoses had gone down by nearly sixty percent since he opened. The homeless population had decreased by forty percent, and overall crime in his area had been a good twenty percent.

It was good to see how he was protecting his haunt.

"Danny" Alvin called after a moment. "Do you need help?"

Now, Alvin is a great guy, cute too but he couldn't decorate a cupcake to save his life. His bother was a better hand in the kitchen.

Bring him to our nessssstttt Phantom urged with a shocking wave of want, almost having Danny tumble over. Ugh, his mating season is getting out of hand.

He had seen Frostbite last week about it, but the yeti told him it was perfectly natural for ecto-beings. He would start to stabilize soon, and hopefully, Phantom would no longer be tripping over its tail to get a significant other and start a family.

His nesting problem only grew recently. Now Danny owned every building on the block- primarily due to the facilities being old businesses that went bankrupt years ago and made it super cheap after sitting there for years collecting dust. He had realized that kids didn't feel safe with adults, so a new building went up for homeless adults on his other side. Then he realized that they could benefit from a laundry place which happened to be one of the businesses that went under.

He got that remodeled and threw more goons into it. Scarecrow's old goons had gotten the word out that Danny paid well, gave excellent benefits, and working for him had the less likely chance of getting their face smashed in. Then a homeless kid asked Danny if he could borrow his bathroom because the temporary ones in the side buildings were small and cold, and the kid really missed splashing around in a tub instead of a shower. He realized he also needed to offer that. So one of the buildings was turned into a bathhouse, with rentable personal spa rooms for regular citizens. Now a community laundromat and bathhouse were open at all hours, helping stop the spread of diseases with good hygiene.

Of course, Danny had to make it seem like the money for all of this came from somewhere. He contacted Vlad, whose status as a billionaire made it easy to wire him the funds. When asked, Vlad would only mention trying to get into his step-kids good side.

He still had plenty of street kids doing bakery deliveries for him, but now he had more space to give them a actually apartment. He of course never ask for commitment and they never gave it to him.

He had a few families approach him to rest out the other buildings for business and he was excited to see different restaurants and cafes blooming to life around him. This whole street, once a dead sad thing, was becoming colorful because of him.

'I'm fine thank you Alvin" Danny says shooting the younger man a grin. Alvin face heats up and Phantom is practically beating its head against a wall. Screaming, crying as Alvin plays with bit of his hair at the bottom of his neck.

Danny swallows down the urge run his fingers through it, focusing on his human side as hard as he could.

"Is that the cake with the special ingredient? The one you send the street kids on deliverieswith?" Alvin asks after a moment pause.

"Sure is. Hopefully, we can get the Wayne's hooked on it. It'll be great for business." Danny smiles. There is a split second where Alvin's face tightens around the mouth like he's angry before it's gone.

"Yeah, I bet. Though with the help of Masters, we won't have to worry about funds for a while, right?"

Putting his tools in the sink to soak, the baker shrugs. "Vlad will help but only after he sees potential in something. The set up I have going got his attention cause of our special ingredient. He's dabbled with it before, you know? That's how he got rich"

Alvin jerks his head in his direction. "So he's an expert?"

"More than an expert. He's the main reason we have so much of this stuff to push. I wouldn't be able to get it on my own without his help," Danny says, absent minded. He's busy trying to beat Phantom back with a stick as his ghost side whines for a child of their own.

He's not going to date any of his employees. That's a weird power imbalance that Jazz would never approve of.

Maybe he should take some time away from the bakery for a while. Danny couldn't find true love if he was always working. He'll ask Tucker and Sam to come to some clubs or something. It could be fun.

I want a baby! Phantom sneered outrage that his demands have been ignored.

Soon Danny promised I'd eat two whole bagels later in the meantime.

"Masters is our leading supplier, and he just lets us manage his goods without instruction? Isn't that a bit unorthodox?

Danny blinks " I guess? Vlad's always done some unorthodox deals. His giving me complete control will likely keep him out of the picture once someone catches on. Gosh, sometimes I wish I got out of the family business as my sisters did, but one of us had done this, or our parents would be unbearable."

Alvin Draper looks sadden "Your parents pushed you into this life?"

"Raised me in it," Danny corrects "My dad and I made his special Fruge for the first time when I was three. Been hooked ever since."

Just then Peter is there looking horror stuck "Your old man got you hooked at age three?"

"Yeah?"

"Why do you keep doing it then?"

"The baking? Well, it's ugh part of me now. I'll die of I stop- er die completely. "

Alvin snatched his hand to tug him close, and wow, he was stronger than he looked for a nineteen-year-old. Phantom woofs as the man practically lefts him off the floor to set him on the counter and stare into his eyes. "You don't have to live like this anymore. Let me help you. Let me protect you"

Both Danny and Phantom chock on their shared spit at the best flirting method anyone could use against a protective spirit.

The promise of protection was like someone whispering sweet nothings in his ear during love making.

"I got to go!" He screams jumping away from the brothers to run out of his own bakery in a panic.

Goodness. I need a vacation. Maybe my sisters would be down for some ectoplasm collecting in the Ghost Zone?

(Jason and Tim take the cake for Damian back to the cave, swearing when the test come back as a regular vegan cake. Had Tim stepped in too early and stop Danny from adding the drug?

Jason was angry that Danny was just another kid the adult around him failed. But now Danny was one of those adults, and it's killed him to admit it, but he would still shoot Danny in order to stop the cycle.

Bruce, after confirming the cake was delicate, shared a slice with his youngest, who adored the flavor. It was the best cake he's ever had. Such a waste of talent on crime.

At least the Bats had a new lead. Vlad Masters and his mysterious rise to wealth. They would get him and Danny off the streets.

Danny is miles away, fanning his blushing face as his sister demands more information of the cute baker boy that knew how to flirt with protection ghosts. )

( Part 1) (Part 2), (Part 4)

#dc x dp crossover #the bakery is a front!...right?#part 3 #Danny just digging himself a bigger hole #he thinks everyone made fudge with thier dads and ectoplasim is a special ingredient #Tim just made himself super hot to both human abd ghost Danny

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bizbat · 4 months

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All Wrapped up

🕸️Spiderverse Masterlist🕸️

🐼JJK Masterlist🐼

~ Bruce Wayne x Fem!Reader

~ Explicit smut

~ Reader is alluded to be smaller than Bruce, but appearance is otherwise not described

~ Reader wears a dress and makeup

~ Partially based on these headcanons

~ You can find more of my works here

~ Wc: 3.6k

C/W: Smut, PiV penetration, Mdom, Healthy Dom/Sub dynamics (consent checks, aftercare, establishment of a safeword, etc.), Bondage, Oral (male & female receiving), Finger sucking, Fingering, Slight slapping, Spit, Face fucking, Slight humiliation, Praise and degradation, Pet names (Angel, Pretty, Baby, Girl/Good girl, Sir, Slut), Dacryphilia, Pussy job, Cervix fucking, Mating press, Slight Breeding, Creampie, Size difference

It's the holiday season, and what could be a better gift than you, all wrapped up in a pretty, red ribbon?

Bruce found himself collapsing into a plush chair, massaging his temples as he stared down into the crowd from his position on the balcony. He tugged at the neck of his fluffy, green, turtle neck, the one his wife, Y/n had begged him to wear. Apparently, they matched, as she was dressed in a gorgeous gown with a red, corseted bodice, and a flowing, green, tulle skirt.

As if sensing his dismay, Y/n climbed up the staircase leading to the balcony Bruce was hiding away on, her heels clicking against the marble floor alerting him of her presence. He didn't look up as she wrapped her arms around him from behind, the smell of her expensive perfume flooding his nose as she hugged him. He looked at her over his shoulder as she pulled away, taking in her appearance.

She looked perfect. He hair was curled and artfully pinned atop her head with ribbons, the bodice of her gown was tailored to her exactly, pushing her breasts up and together. It drew attention to her necklace that accentuated her neck, the gold bejeweled with bright red rubies that flattered her skin tone.

Y/n stroked Bruce's cheek with a gloved hand, a big, warm smile decorating her face as she kissed the tip of his nose, a smudge of lipgloss left in her wake. She giggled as he wiped it away with a cloth napkin on the table. Though, her smile dimmed a bit when she noticed the less than happy expression on her husband's face.

"I . . ." She looked down at the crowd of people over the balcony, people of all classes eating, drinking, and dancing together in the Wayne Manor ballroom. She had begged Bruce to throw a Christmas Gala, to have an open invitation so that it would be available to everyone, and not just the famous and wealthy, though now she could see that it really was begging to wear him down.

She ran her fingers through his hair, the perfectly slicked locks now wild from him running his hands through his hair multiple times. "Thank you, Bruce." She whispered, pressing her forehead to his. "I know you don't usually like these things, and you really didn't-"

"I wanted to." He cut her off as she began to ramble, a pout on her painted lips. "It's my gift." He stroked her chin with his thumb. "As long as you enjoy yourself, then I'll be happy."

Y/n nodded, though not fully convinced. Bruce hated galas, and parties, or public events of any kind, and he sacrificed valuable time so he could attend, and not just leave his wife to host it on her own. Y/n pressed her forehead to his once again, before hearing someone call her name from below. She turned to Bruce, who gave her his best reassuring smile, before quickly leaving his line of sight amongst the partygoers.

Bruce didn't see her the rest of the night, not even when the event came to an end and everyone began pouring out of the manor, gifts in hand. He had asked Alfred if he had seen her, but it seems the old man was just as clueless to her whereabouts as he was. Bruce tried not to think about all of the situations she could be in, his headache from earlier quickly worsening with every moment.

He was finally able to escape to his and Y/n's shared room once Damian and Duke were snug in bed, and the rest of his children were home for the night. He was still worried about her, though, as it was soon replaced with relief. And then, with arousal.

He found Y/n on their bed, her arms and legs constrained with a single red ribbon. In her mouth was another ribbon, preventing her from speaking as Bruce locked the door behind him, and traversed beside her on the bed, all while never taking his eyes off her. He chuckled to himself as he stroked her head, his eyes trailing her restrained figure.

"What is this, huh? Is this my gift?" Y/n nodded, her eyes wide as she stared up at Bruce's imposing figure, looming over her from the bedside. Bruce's fingers ghosted down her cheek before brushing against her lips, her lip gloss smudged and partially removed from the cloth ribbon between her teeth. He tugged the ribbon out of her mouth, replacing the fabric gag with his thumb.

His pants tightened as he watched her suck on his thumb without prompting. "Good girl," He cooed. "Such an obedient little slut for me." Y/n nodded around his finger, her eyes never leaving his as she circled his thumb with her tongue, hollowing her cheeks around the appendage.

Bruce pulled his thumb from her mouth, a string of spit connecting it to her tongue as she briefly chased after it. "You gonna be my good girl? Gonna use your words?" Bruce stroked Y/n's heir, the ribbons from earlier now absent. "Yes sir." She said, her eyes glossy and her cheeks and ears on fire. "Gonna be good. Gonna be your good girl."

"Then stick out your tongue for me, baby." Bruce commanded, leaning down and enveloping it in his own mouth when she immediately followed his orders. He palmed his stiffening cock through his pants. He hissed as he pulled away, unzipping his green pants and sliding them down just far enough to take his cock out.

He pumped his shaft to full firmness as he practically glared down at Y/n, watching as she bit her glossy lip in anticipation. He watched her squirm in her bindings, the red ribbon decorating her barse skin. It tied her wrists together in front of her, going down and tieing her knees and ankles as well.

Bruce groaned as he jerked himself off in front of his wife. "You gonna suck my cock pretty girl? Gonna make me feel good?" Y/n bit her lip so hard Bruce worried she might draw blood, as she rapidly nodded her head. Bruce brough his free hand down upon Y/n's cheek, just hard enough to sting. "Use your words, girl." He lightly squeezed her cheeks as he made her look at him.

"I wanna suck your cock, sir!" She wriggled around in her binding, her cunt growing slick as Bruce teased her with his cock. He smiled, brushing his thumb against his head, swiping off a bead of precum and pushing it between her lips.

He bit his own lip as Y/n tasted him. "That's it . . . that's my good fucking girl." Bruce straddled Y/n's chest, kneeling over her as he pressed his cock to her swollen lips. She opened her mouth wide for Bruce, sticking out her tongue as she waited for his permission.

Bruce rested his tip against her tongue, thrusting his hips lightly as pearls of his precum spread across her muscle, before pushing further into Y/n's mouth. He paused when she started to choke on his length, even though was only about halfway in. "Breath, baby. You can take it."

He grunted as she swallowed him deeper, breathing through her nose. "That's it . . . That's it."He held back her hair so he could see her entire face. "Just like that." He groaned, the warmth of her mouth sending a shiver run up his spine.

He continued to mumble praises as she took him deeper and deeper down her throat, his hips thrusting in front of her face. He began to increase his pace, his ears burning as the sound of his wife gagging on his cock filled the room.

Bruce held Y/n's head still as he fucked her throat, spit dripping down her chin and pooling across her chest, glossing her tits and slicking her lips. He grunted as his muscles tightened, a sign of his impending orgasm.

He pulled out of Y/n's mouth, rapidly pumping his shaft before thick, white spurts of his creamy cum landed on her face and waiting tongue. "Don't." He warned when he saw her begin retracting her cum covered tongue back into her mouth.

Y/n's face was on fire, humiliation coursing through her veins as the cum mixed with the excess saliva on her tongue and began to drip down onto her and chest. She whined, pleading for Bruce to let her swallow. "What do you want, angel?" He lightly tapped her cheek, reminding her to speak. "You said you were gonna be good. I can't do anything unless you tell me what you want."

"Wan'-" She huffed, trying to speak with her tongue sticking out. "Wanna swallow. Wanna swallow your cum, sir." It was unclear, but Bruce deciphered her words, laughing at her as she shivered, pleading with wide, tear-struck eyes. "Just stay there a little longer baby," he panted, stroking her hair. "I wanna get a good look at you like this."

She looked even better like this, her hair messy from laying against the pillows, her hardened nipples showing through the soaked, red ribbon that laid across her chest. Bruce bit his lip and groaned, his cock still painfully hard.

Y/n's thighs rubbed together in an attempt to stimulate her neglected heat. "Bruce," she whined, drool and cum seeping across her body the longer her tongue was out. "Please sir . . . please let me swallow." Bruce reached a hand down between her thighs, his fingers just barely brushing against her cunt.

"There's my good girl. Go ahead, baby, since you asked so nicely."

Y/n pulled her tongue back into her mouth, savoring the taste of the cum that hadn't slipped off her tongue and onto her tits. Bruce pressed firmly on her clit, circling it with broad, slow circles. Y/n whined again, pleading for him to increase his speed. Bruce, tired of her misbehavior, lightly slapped her clit. "Last warning. Either take what I give you, or use your fucking words."

Bruce hovered his hand over her mound, threatening to smack her again should she continue to misbehave. "I-I'm s-sorry sir, I'll be good!" Bruce thought for a moment. "Come to think of it . . . maybe you don't even deserve to cum, huh? Maybe I should just fuck your mouth and not your pretty pussy, leave you squirming, all tied up so you can't touch yourself."

"Is that what you fucking want?" Bruce stroked her lower lips, teasing her by not touching her clit. "No sir!" Y/n furiously shook her head, flexing her hips to try and get Bruce to properly touch her. "I wanna cum! I want you to fuck my pussy, sir! Please!" Bruce leaned down, his forehead pressed against her own. "Then be good."

He punctuated his sentence with a final smack to her clit, rubbing rapid circles against her pearl before she could react. Bruce watched her face, stray tears slipping down her cheeks as her mouth hung open. "How's that feel, baby? Am I making you feel good?" Y/n thrashed in her bindings, rutting her hips against Bruce's skilled hand.

"Ngh~ Feels good, sir! Feels so good!" Y/n huffed, panting as Bruce brought her closer and closer to her first orgasm of the night. Bruce smirked, his pressure and speed increasing ever so slightly, just enough to bring his wife to the brink of climax. Sensing her orgasm, Bruce leaned forwards, catching her lips with his own as his fingers finally pushed Y/n over the edge, never slowing down as he helped her ride out her orgasm.

Once he felt her juices leak Bruce ripped down the red velvet that his her soft mounds from his sight, leaving the ribbon tying her wrists together, doing the same for her legs, untying her knees but leaving her ankles as her pushed her legs apart. He pushed in two long, thick fingers, curling them against that spongy spot inside of Y/n, and watching her every slight reaction.

"Sir, please! I'll be good! I'll be good, just, please!" Y/n begged, her legs spread wide for Bruce, his palm rubbing her clit as his fingers skillfully thrust in and out of her warm, slick walls. "Please what, pretty? What do you need?" Bruce grunted as he kneeled above her, one hand between her thighs, one hand gripping the wooden headboard, the wood lightly splintering from his tight grip.

"I need your cock, sir! Please fuck me already!" Bruce chuckled, feeling her heat squeeze around his fingers. "You want my cock? You want me to fuck you like the little slut you are?" The sound of his palm slapping against Y/n's clit as he finger fucked her filled the room. The sound of Y/n's desperate huffs and moans was like music to his ears, the tears streaming down her face more beautiful than any original in his gallery.

A desperate "Yes sir!" slipping past her lips without her even having to think about it. Bruce smirked, continuing to finger her as he moved his thumb to circle her aching, neglected clit. "Almost pretty, almost. Wanna taste you first." Bruce released the headboard, holding both of her wrists in one, large hand. "Can you be patient for me, baby? Let me taste you?"

Bruce somehow further increased his pace, loud squelches echoing in the large room. "Fuck!" He groaned, feeling Y/n tighten around his fingers once again as she rapidly approached her second orgasm. "Come on, baby! Let me fucking taste you." He continued thrusting his fingers for a few more moments, quickly pulling them out when Y/n whimpered out a "yes, sir".

He let go of her wrists, ripping off his sweat soaked sweater as he moved to lay on his stomach between Y/n's legs. He flattened his tongue, licking a long, firm stripe up her soaking wet cunt. He wrapped his laps around her clit, sucking her nub before releasing with a wet 'pop'.

He lifted her thighs, shoving his tongue into her hole as deep as possible, before replacing it with his fingers. He carefully thrusted his fingers in and out as he returned to sucking her clit, curling them against her g spot as he listened to her moans and cries, the strong suction throwing her over the edge.

He didn't stop as more of her juices coated his chin and fingers, leaking down and soaking the sheets beneath her. He licked up as much of her essence as possible as she eventually came down from her high. Once he was finished, Bruce rose back up on his hands, capturing Y/n's lips with his, letting her taste her own juices on his tongue.

She moaned into his mouth, chasing after him when he inevitably pulled away from her. He shoved his pants down the rest of the way, kicking them across the room, before hovering over Y/n once again, pinning her wrists above her head as he lined his cock up with her hole.

"You want it, baby? You want me to fuck you?" Y/n pulled her lip between her teeth, her eyes magnetized to the space between the two of them. She nodded, whining when Bruce thrusted his cock against her, rather than inside her, selfishly using her slick mound to get himself off. "Look at me," Bruce gave her no time to comply, grabbing her face again as he forced her to keep her eyes on him, his cockhead catching on her clit as he thrust his hips.

"I need a yes or a no, pretty." "Yes!" Y/n's teeth released her lower lip, as she shouted, her skin swollen from the biting and kissing. "Yes, sir! Please, I want it! I want you to fuck me!"

Bruce lined himself back up with her pussy, smirking at her desperate tone as he prepared to penetrate her. "S'all you had to say, baby . . ." Without further warning he thrust his cock inside of her, stilling when he felt her tight walls begin resisting him. He threw his head back, a guttural groan escaping him as he entered his wife's tight walls.

"Shit, baby," He groaned, panting above his wife's body. He grabbed her wrists again, holding them above her head as he slowly began fucking deeper, her hole accepting him little by little, stilling again once he was fully inside her.

"Bruce . . ." Y/n whined, wiggling her hips. "Please, sir, want you to move." Bruce shallowly pumped his hips, his cock brushing against her puckered cervix. He looked down at her face, holding back a laugh when she wriggled and squirmed in his hold. "Sir, please!" She sobbed.

"All right, all right. No more teasing. You remember the word?" Y/n nodded, though, she quickly corrected herself. "Yes, sir, I remember." Bruce leaned down, pressing a chaste kiss to her sweaty hearline. "There's my good little slut. M' gonna move now, okay?" He stroked one of her wrists with his thumb. "O-okay," Y/n warbled out, her head rolling forward at the feeling of being stuffed with Bruce's cock.

Bruce pulled his hips away, till only his tip remained inside, before slamming his hips forwards, stealing Y/n's breath from her lungs. His hips pounded hers, the sound of their love a beautiful cacophony that overwhelmed both of their senses. "How's that, baby? That feel good?" Y'n didn't respond, her eyes rolled back into her head at the feeling of Bruce's bruising thrusts.

He decided to be nice, continuing his firm movements, encouraged by the little gasps and moans that subconsciously escaped his wife. He made no effort to hold back his own noises, grunting and groaning as he pushed Y/n's knees to her chest, hitting deeper than what would be thought possible.

Bruce held her legs down with one hand, resting some of his weight on her as he continued to fuck her deeply, gripping the headboard again to give himself more leverage. Y/n pressed her hands to his chest, her fingernails digging into his skin. She needed something to keep her tethered to the world as he fucked her. She sobbed whenever he hit a certain spot, and Bruce made sure to brush against it with every thrust.

"That's it, baby! Take it just like that!" He grunted, his strokes firm, yet perfectly angled to hit her sweet spot. He groaned, his hand on the headboard shooting down to rub Y/n's clit again. He felt his own orgasm creeping ever closer as she squeezed his length. "Gonna cum on my cock, huh? Gonna cum on this fucking cock?"

At this point he was talking more to himself, as Y/n was very clearly not entirely all there, drool dripping down the side of her gaping mouth, and her eyes rolled all the way back into her skull. "You're such a perfect little slut for me. Oh, take it, baby."

The wooden headboard slammed against the wall at the force of his thrusts, and if he was less consumed with his wife's tight, wet flesh, he'd be more thankful that he'd had all of the rooms in the manor soundproofed. Nevertheless, he groaned, his blood running hot as he felt Y/n dig her nails into his skin, deep enough to leave angry, red crescents.

"That's it, that's it, that's it," He chanted, his fingers slicked with Y/n's juices as he circled her clit. "That's it, baby, cum on my cock!" Y/n sobbed, juices gushing around Bruce's cock as her walls gripped him, almost refusing to let him pull out, not that he wanted to. Part of this gift was going to be the feeling of his wife's warm pussy as he came inside her.

He wasn't too far behind her, the muscles in his thighs and calves tightening as he fucked Y/n's cervix, his cock twitching inside her as hot, white cum gushed out around his shaft. He slowly fucked Y/n, his thrusts becoming shallow as he cahased his high. He let her legs drop, massaging them as the blood slowly started to return.

Once he caught his breath, he pulled the bow tying her wrists together, raising his hand to her cheek, stroking it with his thumb as he once again rested his forehead against hers. They stayed like that for a moment. "How . . ." he cleared his throat, his voice slightly hoarse.

"How do you feel? Are you hurt anywhere?" He slid his fingers into Y/n's hair, gently massaging her scalp as he spoke. In turn, she ran her hands across his chest and shoulders, massaging his traps. "No," Y/n shook her head. "I feel good. How about you, how do you feel?" Bruce dropped his head to rest in the crook between her neck and shoulder, kissing her sensitive skin.

"Mm," He ran his hand over her side, inhaling her natural scent. "Good." Y/n smiled, wrapping her arms around Bruce's shoulders and pulling him down, encouraging him to relax and drop his weight. He did just that, though, he still held himself up with his elbows, careful not to crush his wife.

He dug one arm under her, scooping her up and rolling over to his side, so she was laid across his chest. She giggled, resting her head against her husband's strong body. "Did you enjoy your gift?" She looked up at him with warm eyes and a tired smile.

"I did," Bruce smiled down at her, his expression mirroring hers. "Did you?" She leaned up, pressing a sweet, short kiss to his lips. "I loved it." She whispered, her throat a bit sore. Nothing some tea with honey and lemon couldn't fix in the morning. "Wanna take a bath?" Bruce asked, stroking Y/n's bare shoulder as she sleepily drew circles on his chest. "In a minute."

Bruce nodded, exhaustion overtaking his massive frame. He played with his wife's hair as she drifted into slumber on his chest. He basked in the glow of their love, a warm, sappy feeling swirling around inside him and squeezing his heart. He would wake her later, letting her sleep peacefully, for now.

#bizbat #batman #bruce wayne #batman smut #batman fluff #bruce wayne smut #bruce wayne fluff #dc #batfam #bruce wayne x wife!reader #how the grinch stole christmas #dc smut #smut

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sillyandquiteawkward · 5 months

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sillys (not so) lil info dump about how to be a human being. smiles

htbahb is an album from glass animals, of which notably, all the songs align with different people's lives, perspectives, and feelings, also of which are shown on the (various) album covers. so the easiest way to go thru the story is song by song. but i will show you the album art so you can get a gist of things before we go into details.

these are just some of the various album covers for htbahb, theres a bunch of them, but we dont need to see all of them to see the different lives of our characters.

1, Life Itself

this is our main character for life itself. you can call him a bit of a nerd if youd like. apparently his name is chuck rogers. they dont all have names.

hes an inventor, loves ray guns and strange technology, but as noted in his song, feels like he was raised with expectations hell never be able to achieve. his father as a child said he would be a superstar, but nowadays, he cant get a job and he lives with his mom. hes struggling with finding himself and his place in society and hes doing drugs and feeling like hes absolute rock bottom with everyone being against him. he feels alone and attacked and retreats back into his car or grandmothers basement and keeps folding back into himself.

in the music video for life itself, hes only seen in a few scenes, leading the charge against [popular st] with a smoke bomb as [mamas gun] watches knowingly from the sidelines as perhaps the real leader behind the assault. they seems to be accomplices with each other, as they ride in the car together and seem to be specifically looking for [youth].

2. Youth

now the main character for youth is tricky, it seems like we have two characters for youth, the small child, and assumedly, his mother the waitress. i think i like the interpretation that the mother is the main character for this song, and the child represents the album as a whole. alternatively i also like the idea that the child is youth, and his mother represents [premade sandwiches]. but for the most part, they are just both the characters for youth.

youth is a mother talking about her child, and to her child, almost in a detached sort of way as if they arent able to see each other. a mother speaking her hopes and dreams to her child. somehow these two have been separated when the child was young, perhaps through giving up to adoption, or hinted in the music video, abduction. she wishes best for the child, urges them to feel their mother at their side, and notes that theyve got her eyes. she lists off her wishes for them to be happy and have friends, and be silly. this perhaps is for the best, that they can be happy even without her. i particularly like in this song, the wordplay makes it sound like the singer is counting one, two, three, four, five, when they are singing other words like boy, to, free, funny, and fly respectively.

in the music video for youth, the child is seen almost haunting the mother as she works as a waiter, appearing in several locations playing and running around as she remains dutiful to her job. they briefly sit looking at each other in the same hotel room he had been taken to in life itself's music video.

3. Season 2 Episode 3

this is the main character for season 2 ep 3 and i think one of the cool changes between album covers, as we see a fully done up girl all put together with her make up on, and in the other, someone a bit more silly with her makeup removed. this might be the way she sees herself vs how other people see her.

the song is the lament of a boyfriend to his girlfriend, who seems to be glued to the couch, watching shows, getting high, not changing her clothes, and eating day old leftover food and most notably, mayonnaise straight from the jar. at the beginning of the song, the two of them are high together, however he soon sobers and realizes she refuses to get sober along with him. he tries to convince her that their relationship wont work if she keeps being like this and doesnt try, but she wants him back the way he was (high as well) and views him as a nag. she still makes him happy, but sometimes she makes him sad to see how she lives. even after an acceptance from the boyfriend that she wont change and will never be vertical and golden like he wants and that the relationship will never work out, the song ends hinting that hes picked up getting high with her again due to her calling him a killjoy and wearing him down.

in the music video we watch the girl splay out on the sofa, surrounded by her mess watching tv and doing nothing. halfway into the video, we are brought into the game she plays, as she battles [life itself] [cane shuga] and [the other side of paradise], all of which are men who could possibly be the boyfriend figure.

4. Pork Soda

this is our main character for everyones favorite pork soda. hes an older man, who for the most part seems pretty happy. wonder if hes harboring some long lost feelings or something.

the song opens with a street performance unintelligible to a normal listener, its like passing by a conversation, you are only able to hear bits and pieces of the spoken words. once the song starts you hear a story about this guy's girl who used to be fun and adventurous and would take him along with her. in the same breathe hes begging to go back to the days they were happy together. it seems like they fell out of love, or are in a struggling relationship bereft of communication or the passion it once had. shes only happy when theyre having sex together, and just looking at each other causes him heartache. the song talks about pineapples in my head, and being brain dead, as well as other references to diminishing mental facilities, that perhaps in their age, theyd forgotten about each other.

the music video gives us probably the most clear story line, as we see the wife prepare a meal before sending it through a dumbwaiter into the basement for the husband. there he sits alone, watching tv. up above the wife plays with their dog, imagining the dog is the younger version of her husband. all of her time is dedicated to the dog, and all of his time is dedicated to the tv. they have forgotten they love each other and live in the same house, but live in separate worlds. only after the dog destroys his tv and the husband destroys the floor above him and under her feet, do they finally get back together as he catches her as she falls, surprised and exhilarated for the first time in forever. and things seem to be better as they finally occupy the same room together again.

5. Mama's Gun

This is the main character for mamas gun. shes a victim of the perception of her mental illness. i think this is my fav song of the album.

during the song, the woman initially admits that she took her gun and made her husband go to neverland. however she also says she loved him a lot and he was perfect. through bits and pieces of the lyrics you can come to the conclusion that she has some sort of psychosis, or perhaps schizophrenia in particular as she notes many different voices and figures talking to her. the song references dr swango, a doctor who killed his patients, however he insists to her that him and all the other voices in her head are too from neverland, and that she was a murderer just like him. is she really guilty of murder? what really happened? the flute played during various instrumental parts of the song is a sample from the carpenter's mr. guder, a song about a man who does what hes supposed to in society and his job and gets nothing from it. karen carpenter herself was a victim of her own mental illness and they say that theres a specific purpose for the sample chosen. once the lyrics pick back up, the voices again pipe up and tell her she was a murderer, even the voice who had never spoken says so, so he must be telling the truth right? during the final bit of the song, it seems like her husbands voice joins into her collection of voices, as he bears a cheshire smile and asks her to lay with him once again, and that hes waiting for her. in the end, its unclear what happened with her and her husband, as she goes back and forth saying she was violent, she was doing nothing. this song was inspired by a story they heard of a woman going into a drug induced black out for a month and reappearing in another state with no memory, and the lingering fear that shes done something terrible wrong, and never being able to have the closure of knowing what happened.

theres no music video for this song, but we see her appear in life itself. she and [life itself] drive to the hotel where [poplar st] is holding [youth] captive and attempt to break into the room hes in.

6. Cane Shuga

this is our main character for cane shuga. hes exactly how he seems, a rich white guy who is, of course, using that cane shuga all day everyday.

cane shuga presents a dialogue from two parties, two people in a relationship. the singer promises he wont do coke anymore, that he wont be a john doe in the hospital. the chorus however is the high he rides on, where he thinks hes hot shit, hes 007 james bond, hes as powerful as kim jong, with a popped collar as he looks into the glare of the mirror and hypes himself up after using in the bathroom at work. hes untouchable. the second chorus is his partner, giving up on him, their love has burned up, just like his drugs. theres a humorous line of putting their foot down saying ive had quite enough, but corrects themself and sarcastically says or lack there of, that they arent being given anything anymore by him. regardless, their verses and conversation is short. the chorus of his high is the main focus of the song, and repeat over and over as the days continue.

[cane shuga] appears in season 2 ep 3's music video as [season 2 episode 3]'s potential lover. their stories do seem to entangle, they both are drug users dealing with partners who want to stop using. some people say that he is her partner, that he stops using for her, but falls back into the habit. however this doesnt exactly line up with her song, as she doesnt want him to stop. i think its part of that unreliable narrator theme weve seen in previous songs. people have different experiences with each other and get different messages due to the issue of communication. im not exactly on board with these two being together, but i do understand where people are coming from with this take.

7. [Premade Sandwiches]

this is a spoken word interlude, sped up and pitched down. there doesnt seem to be a character paired with this song, and on cd this song is simply a bonus track hidden behind cane shuga. on first listening its very difficult to catch what is being said, but over and over the speaker is talking about standing in line for various things. this song discusses mindless over consumption of drugs, of buzz words, of natural foods for your dog, watches, new clothes made to look old, the junk drawer filled with phones you dont use, with pens that dont work, with random shit you never needed just piling up. people stand in line and they dont even know why.

8. The Other Side Of Paradise

this is our main character for the other side. hes gonna be a basketball player and make it big babyeee.

so its a bit unclear and vague in the lyrics, but it seems our narrator and the basketball player used to be close friends. he even seems to be in love with the basketball player, calling him my love. but the basketball player leaves their home in new orleans to go chase his dreams out west and make it big, leaving our narrator's side. he told the narrator not to worry but after phone calls, it seems like basketball boy got a girlfriend. hes gloating to the narrator, hes got a girlfriend now, hes got a gold camaro, hes made it big, meanwhile our narrator is at the payphone hearing all this and his world turns in slow motion. no longer is the basketball player his baby blue anymore. hes moved on, hell never have another chance to love his friend. hes so angry and hurt, but he balls up his fist almost in a fight or flight reaction, and settles for the ghost of his love. hed always hoped for a paradise where they could be together but it seems like fate had other plans. he laments the basketball player for ditching them, saying here in new orleans people dont leave and ditch their lady (him). he wants to be loved and pampered by him, not her. heres where the vagueness comes back, the narrator seems to be so distraught that he rather kills himself, or finds that his body looks wrong, perhaps that hes not a girl that couldve been loved by the basketball player.

he only ever appears in the music video for season 2 ep 3 as one of the bosses [season 2 episode 3] defeats, claiming ball is life. there is a music video that was recently released for this song, however it does not depict the basketball player.

9. Take a Slice

this is our main character for take a slice, hes a bit of a slut but he makes it work :) the spoken intro to this song is the real recording the band took while talking to a male fortune teller, so the sausage candle is rather real or a lie from the fortune teller.

take a slice regales the story of a young man who finds pleasures in the sultry sexual aspects of life. hes sucking on cigarettes in a way freud would roll in his grave, hes painted his nails dark, has piercings, hes asking for another slice of cherry pie, cherries being a symbol for all things sex and lust. hes smitten with the idea of being a prize to be sought after, and after trying sex work for the first time, realizes this is the job for him. hes going to fuck his way through college, and sleep during class dreaming of you. wink. hes rolling in the dough, hes got a gold car, hes maybe dabbling in drugs too, and hes filthy and he loves it.

10. Poplar St

ms moore is the main character of poplar st, and shes a cougar, and not the good kind.

a young boy lives a typical suburban life. hes got bandaids on his knees and hes climbing trees. but one day, he sees mrs moore and mr keats have sex. immediately this drags him out of his childhood, hes such a man now that he knows what sex is. this is the first step of her grasp around him. as he gets a bit older, his mother calls her prosti-tits and looks down upon her. but the boy looks up to ms moore, despite his mothers words. mrs moore sees his desperation and pulls him into her clutches. theres a very specific voice crack when her teeth sink in deep and the note hes singing falls flat. this bit of pain expressed is highly contrasted with the chorus coming back in, the boy once again considers himself a real man, a true romantic, this is what all men dream of, isnt it? but there are dead flowers in the sand, hinting that these roses arent just romantic. the next bridge plays and interesting word switch up. it starts out with her begging him for more as she sits in her underwear, and then switches to him begging her for more in his underwear. theyve both wasted their days, but when it comes to his youth and her age, the only one wasting their childhood is him. the song concludes with mrs moore calling him up collect (so he has to pay for the phone call, not her) one day and breaking up with him. and then it all gets pulled out from under him and hes just a boy again. this tells the sad tale of how men and boys' sexual assault and grooming often is pushed to the side because they think this is how things are supposed to go, that they are supposed to have sex and to be used and abused from a woman is supposed to be an achievement. but really all it is, is abuse that leaves him feeling terrible.

11. Agnes

this is agnes :) i think it was mentioned at some point that he takes pictures of people when they arent looking, so to me, i like to think hes the one capturing everyone pictured in this album. bear witness to other humans.

the song starts out where the singer is appearing to try and comfort agnes. how did it get this bad, agnes used to just take pills and smoke a little, somethings changed perhaps. the singer notes agnes is just going through the motions every day, numb, and nervous, but hes swelling with emotion all the same. here the singer laments he wants to hold agnes like hes mine. theres a longing sadness in the lyrics. the next verse confirms the worst, while agnes was perhaps a genius when it came to the romantic, he was a deeply depressed and lonely person. he started to rely on the drugs and the alcohol he used to use recreationally, just to live a normal life. and he ultimately commited suicide. the singer wonders where the agnes he used to know went. however the singer reconsiders, and accepts that agnes did his best, life must feel so unbearably long when its soaked in sadness, living a false life filled with depression. so it goes, the singer thinks, but cant help but to feel lost. the only thing he can think of is agnes, perhaps considering all the art agnes made, all the photos he took of other people, perhaps just thinking about his friend in any aspect. grief is funny like that. on the vinyl record, this song's last seconds repeat over and over until you stop the machine from playing, like a lingering memory you cant stop thinking about.

the agnes music video is much different than the others, as it focuses on the singer, dave bayley as he sits in a centrifuge and attempts to sing the song. this causes a very physical reaction and he struggles to even lift his hand, by the end of it hes sweating profusely and unable to catch his breath, but he persists and continues singing. he mentions this was a mere fraction of what someone going through depression could feel like. during the music video as well, he appears to be looking across from a mannequin, perhaps the stand in for himself once hes put himself in agnes' shoes.

thanks for reading if you did i love being insane. all of these are my personal thoughts on the album, and might not exactly match up with your interpretation, but i have tried to keep to what we believe is what glass animals had in mind for the album and these characters.

#glass animals #how to be a human being #htbahb

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lewkwoodnco · 4 months

Text

tis the damn season - Lockwood x Reader

A/N: estranged best friends to lovers trope my beloved!!! 😍 AHHH this is one of my fav fics I've written in a while. Poem below is Golden Boy by Cecil Miller, and the Spanish line is taken from a streetcar named desire by tennessee (idk how 2 spell) williams! this might be less proofread than normal + includes a few of my pre-infection hallucinations? lottt of angst, wc 5.1k!!

P.S. I think I'll be doing a part 2 to buy me presents! but not until a little later ahah and also the 12 days of fics are totally going to spill over hahah

TAGLIST | MASTERLIST

Lockwood stares out the kitchen window. Both inside and outside, there is a bleak stillness in the air that sinks in his bones like a plague. It's too cold and too early in the morning for anyone to be properly out and about. But the season always messed up his sleep schedule more than usual, and now that they had taken a break from their cases for the holidays, there was nothing to occupy his treacherous mind, and its return to taut requirings of Christmases past.

Slowly, the other residents of Portland Row start to stir. George grumbles about their spluttering heating system and having to plod through the snow to get the mail, and Lucy promptly falls asleep in the cup of tea she's just brewed for herself. They were all exhausted, and rightfully so, given that the holidays was prime time for people to start looking into properly clearing out ghosts to keep their homes warm and cheery.

He slips out just as George's complaints about the heater start ramping up, and his mind is so scattered that he forgets to put his coat on. It's a little more brisk than what was completely tolerable, strictly speaking, but it was only just for a minute. When he reaches the mailbox, he runs into Mr. and Mrs. L/N, old family friends who had helped him more than he deserved over the years. They made some polite conversation while he rifled through the bills and letters.

"Oh, Anthony, we wanted to invite you over to tea sometime this week. Y/N's home for the holidays."

His hand slips and an envelope slices his finger open. It was bound to happen, given his glum and careless mood, and it takes every ounce of self-restraint to suppress his cry of pain in front of them.

"Home...as in here? London?"

Ever since she had left for boarding school, there would always be some talk of her dropping by for Christmas every year. But the plans would never be fully solid, or some other pre-existing commitment would prevent her from making the trip. He was suddenly feeling oddly claustrophobic. He glanced up and down the street, as if expecting her to be hiding in some bushes.

Mrs. L/N seemed to pick up on his distraction, and her brow furrowed with concern.

"Of course London. Where's your coat, dearie? Aren't you feeling chilly?"

"...yes. Now that you mention it...perhaps it's best I head back inside."

He gave a stiff sort of wave and walked back, mind reeling. Eight years. Eight years since he last saw her. What the hell was he supposed to do if he saw her now? How was he supposed to feel?

Luckily, he doesn't get much time to panic because as soon as he walks in, he narrowly dodges a wrench being lobbed at his head. Apparently, eleven freezing days with improper heating was more than what George could bear. It's usually a rather quick fix, but maybe the comparatively more extreme frost this year had corrupted the system beyond Lockwood's capabilities, because two hours later he was still no closer to getting it fixed.

Some time later, there's a knock on the door. He yells for someone to get the door, but he's buried too deeply in the house for anyone to hear him. Grumbling, he dusts himself off and walks to the door himself, head buzzing with frustration. He's so preoccupied with what more he could possibly do to get the heating working again that he doesn't think to check the peephole first. So when he opens the door, he gets the wind knocked out of him.

"Anthony."

It was her; rosy-cheeked yet looking effortlessly warm. Her facial features had lengthened and rearranged themselves as compared to when he last saw her, but there was still something expensive to the twist of her mouth and the crinkles near her eyes.

"It's been so long."

Even her voice was rich, like honey. Now that she was standing in front of him, the stitch in his chest from the morning seemed much more familiar. It had been some seasonally grievious paste that had coated his lungs and stoppered his mouth that made him feel eerily weightless if he dwelled on it too much.

He didn't know what to do. Exchange pleasantries, or skip to the part where he slams the door in her face? Before he could decide, he hears some shuffling behind him, and almost instinctively opens the door wider.

"Y/N. These are my associates. George Karim, Lucy Carlyle...Y/N L/N."

"Right. Lockwood and Co., was it?"

The four of them glance at each other, exchanging fleeting smiles for a good half-minute, before George has the sense to usher everyone inside for a cup of tea.

The kettle's already on, and George hands out the cups of tea waring mittens, his glasses barely visible behind the scarf mummifying the lower half of his head. If she notices the cold in the house, she doesn't comment on it.

They make some polite small talk. She's pleasantly amiable and a perfectly gracious guest, and talks about her Christmas dinner plans. Lockwood is disinterested and surly and wants to talk about his fragmented sense of self. At one point, his responses start to become so clipped that he earns a poorly concealed kick from Lucy, accompanied by a stern look. Luckily, it doesn't seem as if she's noticed. She was looking at the white blanket of snow over their garden carefully, as if dismissing their presence.

"Your garden looks beautiful. I'd love to have a look around."

George and Lockwood exchanged a look. It was freezing outside, and the harsh temperatures were clearly not worth braving for the little of the flowerbeds they could see. George opened his mouth to tell her as much, in his own snide way, but he hesitated. Lockwood felt his heart sink.

The thing was, she had had a magnetic effect on most people ever since they were kids, a quality that made it difficult for any grown adult to refuse her or for any child to oppose her. It was the same reason why she was sitting in his house, drinking out of his teacups, eating his share of biscuits (George and Lucy had clearly conspired as soon as they picked up on her staying for tea). But he had been sure that if there was anyone who could pull away from this siren call of hers, it would be George. The very boy who was meaningfully looking at him, trying to express some uncommunicable panic.

"Er...Lockwood?"

And so, he ended up taking her out for a brief and awkwardly quiet stroll in their garden once she was done with her tea. They meandered through the garden path stiltedly, and every snow-dusted weed and sapling seemed to astound her. Still, she divided her attention sufficiently to continue the ocnversation.

"Homeowner and agency head at fifteen. Impressive."

"Thank you."

"I bet you're the media's darling."

He shrugs.

She turns to him, eyes generously pooling with faux concern.

"It can't have been easy."

It wasn't easy, not that she would know anything about it. He wants to be spiteful towards her, lash out at her. God knows she deserved it. But something holds him back.

"So...that was George. And Luce."

She jerked her head back in acknowledgement, but he could see the slight smile playing at her lips as she did so. He had forgotten how terribly exasperating she could be.

"What?"

She shook her head, but that only made her smile grow wider, and so she finally relented. There's a vulpine twist to her lips that Lockwood has no patience for. "Nothing. I'm sure they're lovely people, of course. But if I wanted to know who you were hanging with while I was gone, I would have asked you."

He shrugged. "I wanted to share a bit of my life now. They're just about all of it."

She hums pleasantly, stopping short in front of one of the flower beds. She bends down and picks up a freshly fallen violet, its deep indigo harsh and unrelenting against the fresh, pure snow, against the season of vacancy and death. She holds it up in front of Lockwood.

"Viola Odarata. Symbolises humility. Flores; flores para los muertos. Flores."

A part of him wants to sneer at her in painful irony. How arrogant of her to think she could waltz back into his life as she pleased.

"That what they teach you in your boarding school? Useless facts about violets?"

She shivers, even though the air is completely still with no breeze, and her lips part. Too late, he realises he's gone too far. Her smile slips a fraction, and she takes on an air that makes him feel obliged to apologise. He resists it, and for a moment he sees something flash in her eyes, but it's gone before he can place it.

"Forgive me, but you don't seem terribly happy."

"The Problem's raging worse than ever. Happy things don't come by easy these days."

"...I suppose. It wouldn't -" For the first time, Lockwood thinks she might be feeling nervous. Her humanity, manufactured or otherwise, draws him in despite himself. "It wouldn't have anything to do with me...would it?"

He takes in her carefully manicured appearance, her intentionally pieced together life made up of the dreams she worked towards and achieved. And all he had was a house that was more of a burden than a blessing on some days and this inchoate dread over a Problem whose end was nowhere in sight. But he doesn't know how to express this resentment, this jealousy.

"I'm alright if you're alright."

Sad, dispirited eyes look into each other, searching for the fulfilment they're sure the other has found. She speaks in a tight voice.

"It's okay with the both of us, then."

She suddenly reaches out, and gently holds his finger with the papercut with a firm but comforting pressure. His first instinct is to pull his hand back, but he doesn't, and as the long seconds pass, he feels increasingly vulnerable. The cut was no longer bleeding, and was even well on its way to healing over just fine, but it was irritated from where he had relentlessly picked at it.

"Looks fresh."

She traces the cut with her other hand, violet folded in her palm, with a feather-light touch. The surreality of the moment - of her standing inches from her, her breath tickling his fingertips, her warmth spreading through him - catches up to him and makes his breath hitch. It was unbearably intimate and made him feel like the exposed, raw wound he had been nursing for the eight years she had been gone. And how like her to return with pockets full of unfounded promise to stitch the tears in his skin.

And just as quickly, she lets go of his hand and steps back, and Lockwood feels as though cold air has been forced into his airways. She tucks the violet behind her ear, and drifts back inside. The tilt of her joints is so familiar that it stirs something in him. Something long gone, something he was gripping like a fist.

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

When they return, Lockwood excuses himself to his room for a bit of air, ignoring how closely George is watching him. He sits on his bed and takes a deep breath. His nightstand has a few miniature picture frames on it, and in one of them the picture's been flipped around. It's a picture of him and her, taken a few months before she left. It's how he remembered her before seeing her today. Sometimes, when the urge grew too great, he would tilt the frame under his nightlight, and make out the barest outline of their figures looped together on the other side of photograph.

He didn't know what to make of her departure, all those years ago. One day, they were swinging on tyres in her parents' garden, and the next day, she wasn't at school. But as the years churned on, the string tying his heart to hers stretched and tore a slow and painful death from him, out of the cavity she left, and he never felt quite the same again. And as they continued to age, the wound became old news and scabbed over what was once raw and paralysing, but a part of him always wanted to know why she did it, to be angry with her for being so callous.

And now she was back, pulling him under by the ankles, ripping the gash open viciously.

He didn't know how exactly to deal with it, after years of thinking of her adjacently, daring only to keep her in his peripheral vision, where he was kept safe. Maybe it was all part of a larger problem; the twitch in his hand and his recurring nightmare.

He's ten years old again, at a train station he's never been to, and likely one that doesn't exist. It's hard to see just about any discerning features, except for the massive train peeking through the fog in front of him. He looks to the right, and sees her strong fingers wrapped around a railing, her standing in the door of the train. He can't be sure of much, but he's certain she's looking at him. He stretches the moment as long as it will last, because it's all downhill from there.

There's a terrible groaning sound, and the train reluctantly starts to chug along, steadily gathering speed. He walks alongside it, gradually picking up his own pace, until he's nearly sprinting. All the while, she watches him with amused eyes, secure in her place on the train. He's panting, choking on the fog, eyes streaming. But if he can just reach her scarf whipping in the wind, the train will stop, and she'll step out, cool and gleaming and impervious to the cloud of dust surrounding her and-

He wakes with a start. He knows how it ends.

She slips through his fingers every time.

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She stays for the rest of the day, and the four of them spend a cosy afternoon decorating their Christmas tree, carefully dodging the random mugs of hot chocolate littered across the room. While they were digging out the ornaments from the attic, she finds a box that he, evidently, had not tucked away deep enough.

"Remember these?" She holds up a flimsy, crumbling Santa Claus ornament made of construction paper. "We had so much fun making them."

He nods stiffly, subtly shifting the box towards a corner in the living room. It smarts his eyes to look at the hideous thing, as if its very sight was corrosive.

"Took me a while to find them, though. It must be a pain to dig them out every year."

He puts down the bauble he's hanging, and sighs. "I haven't...brought these out in a while."

Even her look of perplexity looks artificial. "Why not? Aren't there so many happy memories attached to these?" Her face falls ever so slightly. "Do memories of me not make you happy?"

Luckily, they're interrupted by Lucy placing a handful of miniature marshmallows into their hot chocolate. When she moves over to George, Lockwood wordlessly starts hanging their crafted ornaments, and she doesn't press him for an answer. When they're done, the tree looks a lot more crowded and chaotic than it normally does, similar to how Lockwood was feeling with her around. He looks at her, and isn't sure how he feels about the asymmetry of having her here.

Later, when she's about to leave, it starts snowing heavily, too heavily for her to walk home. So after a phone call with her parents, she decides to spend the night. Lockwood's in his bedroom when he hears a knock on his door. It's her, dressed in a spare set of Lucy's pajamas.

"I thought you'd be awake."

She wanted to know what he was doing, and what he was doing was wrapping some Christmas presents. Immediately, she obligingly offered to help, and she was too eager for him to outright refuse. Of course, he might have thought differently if he had known how abysmally little she knew about wrapping gifts. And so they stay up till the early hours of the morning, both of them trying equally hard to teach her the most basic of gift wrapping skills. As the night wore on, they got increasingly drunk on laughter over her heinously criminal attempts and Lockwood's limbs started to loosen up. At one point, he had given up entirely and placed his hands over hers, puppeteering the night's only decent gift wrapping while she smothered her laughter.

He doesn't remember much after that. When he next regains his consciousness, he's lying curled up next to her, with the late morning sun streaming through his windows. He watches her breathe, slow and steady, with a face so relaxed, amiable and familiar.

As her eyes start to flutter open, he panics and tries to look anywhere else, which isn't easy given how she's only inches away from him. They glance at each other, silently acknowledging their positions, and the silence hangs heavy in the air. He clears his throat awkwardly, trying to put as much space between them as he can with his arm wrapped under her. "When do you leave?"

She scrunches her forehead as she thinks. It's one of the few parts of her he instantly recognises and he gets caught off guard by a rush of affection, and a flash of an impulse to smooth out the wrinkles.

"Monday."

He pulls a face.

"We'd have the weekend together. Isn't that enough?"

They stay quiet, watching specks of dust float through the sunlight filtering through his partially drawn curtains. With how close they are to each other, they're not looking at each other's face, and it's unclear if she's asking him, or herself, or the dust they're watching. Was it enough?

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Later that evening, Lucy wants to take a walk along some of the emptier roads in the snow. She takes their trip as her cue to leave but Lucy insists she come along, so she does. The four of them had cycled as far as they could, and when they reached the too-slippery parts of the road, they had dismounted and left their bicycles in a corner. Lucy and George were wandering around a bit ahead of them, while they slowly shuffled through the snow. She had picked up some newspapers on their way there, and was looking through them as they walked, taking particular interest in the odd article on Lockwood & Co.

"You've certainly had your fair share of media coverage."

"Along with a decent helping of frenzied media sensationalism, I suppose."

"My apologies. I forgot I was talking to the Anthony J. Lockwood of Lockwood & Co. Now, is the arson bit complimentary, or would I have to pay extra?"

She was teasing him, and it was irritating. There was a reticent air about him and after some politely delicate probing, which he had been too preoccupied to entertain, she had resorted to amusing herself. Toying with him like a figurine, the way she did all those years ago.

"You wear your grief so beautifully, Lockwood. Like...like jewels between your teeth..."

She pauses, flipping through the newspapers interestedly with inky fingertips, which flickered like shadows next to the soft white snow.

"...and you have such a winning smile. Golden boy." She laughs, and the sound feels like icicles pressing into his skull. "Golden boy," she trills, "you were a bit of a child. The world was having its way with you. You tried to...er, something...golden boy!"

She smiles at him lazily, expectantly, as if anticipating some kind of applause. But Lockwood is in no mood for her childish whimsies.

"I'm fine. I don't have any grief."

She frowns exaggeratedly. "'Course you do."

"I don't."

She mumbles, turning back to her newspaper. "Fine, then. Not like I'm the one holding onto...some kind of...ache."

He digs the heels of his palms into his eyes. How could anyone be this self-aware and yet completely oblivious? The strain on his self-restraint peaks and he buckles within himself.

"Why are you here, Y/N?"

She looks away from the snow. "Lucy said it'd be nice out here."

"No. I mean why are you here, in London? Here, at Portland Row?"

Her lips are pressed together, and there's something guarded in her eyes.

"I just...wanted to see how you were doing."

"Liar."

The word drops from his tongue in such an aggrieved manner with such vehemence that it makes her choke.

"How could you say something like that?"

He scoffs. "Please, let's not pretend you weren't dying to leave at the first chance. Not that you had the decency to tell me-"

"-I was ten!-"

"- having me go through the humiliating process of finding out on my own-"

"What do you want me to say, Lockwood? I'm sorry I left? I'm sorry you were alone? I'm sorry I was too selfish to give a damn about you?"

"-and you'll come back, choking on your silver spoon only to leave again and again and again until you're all alone-"

"You never wrote!"

"I didn't think you'd want me to!"

"I didn't know what I wanted!"

"Then what do you want?"

"YOU, you idiot!"

He stares at her, speechless.

"I was ten. And I was so foolish. How could I have thought of anything but you?"

With that, the last of her rosy, polished, alluring boarding-school airs fell apart. He looks at her and sees his own anger and yearning reflected back at him; anger and yearning he's hardly ready to face. Despite all their efforts to get away from the other, to move on, something between them held fast. Or perhaps it was that they were hopelessly, irrevocably intertwined.

"Of all the roads I could have travelled, you are at the end of every single one of them. Every single one of them, except the road I did travel. I'm here, Lockwood, because I thought I might have...I might have chosen wrong."

"So you think you can just stroll back now that it's convenient for you? I didn't know if I'd ever see you again, do you realise that?"

"What do you want me to do, Lockwood? You keep pushing me away. I feel like part of a past you're forever trying to run away from. So fine! I'll leave, then. I'll go back to the sorry hole I crawled out of, back to friends I don't care about, back to dreaming of the only person who's ever truly cared about me. Is that what you want?"

She doesn't wait for a response, and turns around and walks away from him.

"Y/N, come back."

She silently picks her bicycle out of the snow, dusting it off.

"You can't cycle in this."

Still ignoring his words ringing through the dead winter silence, she steadies herself and cautiously swings a leg over her bicycle. Lockwood starts to walk towards her.

"You'll fall. You'll hurt yourself. Y/N. Y/N!"

But she's already off, gliding soundlessly like a ghost through frigid air on icy roads.

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

He's already regretting his words by the time he reaches 35 Portland Row. When he first walks in, the house is so deathly quiet that he's convinced she's left. But her bicycle is thrown down in the garden and he knows she's too averse to the cold to walk home in the snow.

He walks slowly, his measure footsteps echoing on the wooden floors of the house, and he eventually finds her in the living room, sitting with her back to the door, staring at the drawn curtains. The fading evening glow spilling through the edges is streaked across her face and there's a soft crunching sound. As he comes closer, he sees the bowl of ice glinting in her lap, like fractured light, with her face as blank as a canvas.

"Have you gone completely mad? You'll fall sick."

She doesn't even flinch, as if she hadn't heard him. When she speaks, there's a dreamy quality to her typically strong and clear voice.

"I didn't want to come back. This city is nothing I want. I was always going to escape some day. And yet..." she trails off with glazed eyes, as if trying to look through some distant fog. "...and yet."

"You were right." The run back had left him mildly breathless, but was also exactly what he needed to get rid of the buzz in his head, giving way to some much-needed clarity. "About the...heartache. I was just sick of it. You're miles away. I love you in your sleep. I still reach the end of road alone. But I loved you all the while and...somehow that made the pain of leaving you worth it."

"I'm restless. I'm lost. I'm selfish." She swivels her head with an unnerving smoothness, grin wide and grotesque, ice glinting between her perfect teeth. "I'm so alone, Lockwood. Just like you said."

He doesn't know what to say. He walks towards her and picks up her bowl but her fingers close around his wrist like a vice. The gleam in her eye makes him want to pull his hand back. He's too old to play her games and lose.

"That's a bad habit."

"I'm a bad habit. One you can't seem to kick even after all these years: tell me, Anthony, why is that?"

"Y/N, stop. You'll spoil your teeth."

It only makes her grind her teeth even more tauntingly. It's an awful sound. "Good. Let them fall out, one by one. It's what I deserve. Maybe I'll finally learn my lesson."

Her grip on his sleeve lessens, but she doesn't let go. She grips the bowl with her other hand even tighter, as if suddenly terrified.

"Leave me be, Anthony. Leave me...to my vices...and violets and...violence."

He reads her face. He tries to figure her out, to read her like the open book she once was to him. When he doesn't leave, she shovels more ice into her mouth, uncomfortably clacking with her teeth, and continues.

"I was racing ahead...into some glorious sunset, towards some fantastic rainbow, at the end of which was some miraculous snowdrop and a wish to soothe my nomadic soul. I didn't have time for the boy with the sad eyes two streets down from me."

"I convinced myself that you resented my escape from the Problem. I was 15 with the bitter taste of lemongrass in my mouth and a stitch in my chest when I realised I spent all those years missing you. I couldn't run away from it, not truly. So I pretend. I pretend you don't hate me and I pretend I'm not an awful person and I pretend there's a chance you'd want me as much as I want you. I came home to tell you how terribly fond I was of you. It was only at your doorstep that I realised I had run out of places to hide."

"I don't have time for love. Nor the capacity for it. But I am tired of trying to outrun it."

She closed her eyes. Her voice was barely a croak. "I'm sorry I didn't tell you I was leaving. If I could...I'd wish away the past eight years of misery." She opened her eyes. "Some nights, I can pretend they never existed. But I can't wish your happiness into existence."

Lockwood somehow finds his voice. "I thought this was the life you wanted."

"It is Christmas, once again, and my heart is lonely as an island...once again. What part of this could I possibly want?"

He lets go of the bowl of ice and covers her limp, frozen hand with his own. She speaks in a low voice, barely stirring the dust in the room.

"I'll never forgive myself."

He sits down next to her, his feather-light lips pressed to her temple. She feels drained, and exhausted, as if the spirit that had driven her for so long was finally fatigued. Her breathing was uneven and her lungs felt lopsided. But what a blessing it was to finally fall in the one place she knew her landing would be soft.

"One day. One day, I'll..."

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

He pulls out a fresh violet from his coat, still damp from the morning dew.

"Call it even?"

She accepts the flower and gives him a sweet smile. He revels in this smallest of victories.

Their peaceful moment gets shattered by the deafening train horn, which unpleasantly reminds Lockwood of where they are.

She hesitates for a moment, but then extends her arm and holds his face. There's a troubled look on her face, like there's something indescribable she wished to communicate just at the tip of her tongue. But the compulsion passes, and she settles for a trembling brush of his cheekbone with her thumb.

"You're such a darling, Anthony. I don't care what any newspaper or lawsuit has to say about you. You'll always be a darling to me."

"Good, because soon enough you might just be the only one."

She grins, widely at first, but then it chips, and for once he can admit that the sight breaks his heart. She gives him a hug, and he holds her like she's one of the precious metals that adorn her jewellery.

"You'll come back, won't you?"

"Perhaps. See you another weekend."

When they break apart, she swiftly picks up her suitcase with white knuckles and marches to the carriage without looking back. The train horn blares for a final time. The doors shut, and the wheels groan to life. He searches for her face, and finds it, but the reflection of the train station lights hides her eyes. It's at this moment that a disconnected part of him realises he doesn't want to wait for another weekend. He wants her here, and he wants her now.

The train picks up speed, and Lockwood tries to match it. But he's not trying to run. He knows that won't work, it never does.

"Y/N!"

That gets the attention of most passengers, including her. This train accelerates much faster than in his dream, and he's got an awful stitch running down the side of his torso by now, but he's beyond caring at this point. When she sees that it's him yelling like a maniac, she presses her flushed face to the window, eyes wide with disbelief.

"Would you stay?"

TAGLIST: @dangelnleif @elenianag080 @avdiobliss @mitskiswift99 @mischivana @houseoftwistedspirits @ahead-fullofdreams

#taylor swift #lockwood x y/n #anthony lockwood x you #anthony lockwood x reader #fanfiction #fanfic #lockwood & co #anthony lockwood imagine #lockwood and co #lockwood and co netflix #tis the damn season #evermore #12 days of fics '23

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diamondcitydarlin · 6 months

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i think probably the worst part of the whole thing is that I just don't really care anymore, the investment I had at the end of season 1 just straight up no longer exists. no, it's not just bc a blorbo got killed off (and there's a lot of reasons to be angry about that), it's mainly bc most of the characters at this point feel like hollow shells of who they were a season ago, including the stede x ed pairing as a whole (which I really just don't care about anymore at all, sorry). and no it's not bc 'Izzy got all the development and there was no time for anyone else' like of course there was time for everyone else, provided that they hadn't opened the season on all those characters making 180 character changes with no real explanation, provided they hadn't overloaded the damn season with nonsense that goes nowhere. JimxOlu was my OTP after StedexEd in season one, both of them were some of my faves, and not only did neither of them even really resemble who they were in s1, their relationship which was of such great importance in the former just suddenly...is something else now. Not people in love, but 'friends who have fucked once lol' and are wingmen for each other now because...??? Oh but Jim's dating Archie who...*checks notes* was in a Snake Cult? I think? That's about all we get on her, apart from the fact that she likes making out with Jim I guess. And I guess Zheng can't just be a powerful woman character that exists in this narrative without a romance of her own, so let's just toss her together with Olu and never explore or explain that with any kind of depth. Jim has neither trust issues anymore nor do they have ANY interest or investment in their revenge scheme or the Siete Gallos (REMEMBER THAT PLOTLINE?? REMEMBER?? APPARENTLY THE WRITERS DON'T) they're just kind of goofy all the time now for no reason. Olu's leadership arc? His being a confidant to Stede? Where the fuck did any of that go? Are they all a polycule or are they all just separate couple friends? IDK WHO CARES THIS IS HOW IT IS NOW I GUESS. Like, why am I supposed to care about any of that? It doesn't even feel like the characters I watched before.

And StedexEd. Jfc there's so much to say that other people have said better but the constant bringing up of conflicts, breakups, and then immediately resolving those issues with heartfelt reunions/kissing as if that's supposed to be sufficient got really old for me after awhile. The lack of explaining how their 'whim-prone' romance to this point was bad, the lack of explaining how they reconcile their different goals was also bad, but oh they can just go RUN AN INN NOW! Yay happily ever after! ????? "Ed, you've got family" which he immediately leaves to go try another life path he's probably going to suck at and hate WOW so romance. Like either figure it out or break up for good, it just makes them an obnoxious toxic couple who never seem to communicate or bother to try but are supposed to be the one we love the most and are rooting for. And that sucks, because I loved them once! GARBAGE!

There's only so much blame one can put on external factors for this. I worked in production once, I edited scripts and was a go-between for notes and writers, and this is the exact kind of thing I would've felt compelled to point out; we only have x amount of time and x amount of episodes to properly tell these stories, we know this, so maybe lets be realistic about what we can fit in here and do justice and what we can't. Maybe let's not just throw every fucking thing we think of at the wall to see what sticks while completely ignoring/retconning character traits and stories we set up in season 1. But nah, that's what happened!

Like, what is there to watch for at this point if s3 gets greenlit? I fail to find anything that I'd care about seeing continued, even the peripheral characters like Frenchie and Wee John and Roach, whom I also loved before and still do but barely did anything, so I guess I can tune in to watch them do more of nothing? Idk man it sucks when it's not just 'wow that was bad I hope next season is better' but instead 'wow that was so boring and incohesive I have no more interest or emotional investment in this to continue'

#ofmd critical #were there good moments in s2? of course #was it on the whole kind of an overpacked incoherent nightmare? yes #was it a fitting continuation of the s1 story? absolutely fucking not #posting in this tag so that hopefully the toxic positivity crowd doesn't get offended lol

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ineffable-suffering · 7 months

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Demonic Mental Health Awareness Post

i'm not sure if occult beings are technically capable of suffering from mental illnesses but, watching S2 for the nth time now, i'm pretty sure that ever since Armageddon didn't happen, crowley has simply been a little, well ... depressed.

(just in case, a mild TW: depression, trauma, mental illness)

like, one of the firsts things we hear him say (to shax, out of all people) is: "do you ever think: what's the point of it all? heaven, hell, angels, demons, it's all ... pointless." which– whoof, that's heavy. i mean, fair enough, he's got a point, but it's still one hell (pun intended) of a statement to chuck out as one of the first things he says this season.

i think the way that crowley and aziraphale processed Armageddon is .. very different. we see aziraphale at the beginning of S2:

happy as always in his surroundings

chatting to the people in his whickber street community

buying music

humming along to it in his bookshop

and just frolicking, as he always does

crowley, however, is:

sitting alone on The park bench

questioning the meaning of existence

while also technically being homeless

and living in his car

for ... no apparent reason other than not being bothered to miracle himself up a new flat

of course, crowley's always been a bit of a grumpy goth boyfriend. but it doesn't take a licensed therapist to figure out that he's clearly Going Through something. and it makes sense, if you think about it. surely, Armageddon was traumatic for both of them. but i think aziraphale does have a bit more of a safety net to fall back on. he's got his shop, his books, his music and some of his neighbours he seems to like and know. and, of course, he has crowley. who's always just a phone call away and who he, as we are told, calls when pretty much anything does or doesn't happen.

crowley's main hobby and somewhat safe space used to be his plants and his flat, but those are kinda gone too now/crammed into the bentley and he clearly hasn't been able to move on yet since he a) hasn't bothered to get a new flat and (what i think is an even bigger indicator of him not being okay) b) hasn't told aziraphale yet. ("we talk all the time!" yup, but clearly not about the things that matter, hm?)

it's been four years. four years in which, seemingly, aziraphale had few issues with falling back into his old flow, picking up his hobbies again and even making more friends around Soho. and four years in which crowley lost his flat, most of his plants and apparently his will to change anything about it or share it with aziraphale.

having been through major depressive episodes myself, this does *david tennant voice* bingle-bongle-dingle-dangle all my alarm bells.

because people cope with trauma in different ways. some better than others. and crowley, having Major Unresolved Trauma from his Fall, always having been rather unhappy with the work he'd been doing for hell (aka only getting credit for things he didn't do and sort of messing up things he did do) and also having to face the fact that the angel he was head over heels in love with kept turning him down over and over again for reasons he didn't understand ... well, it didn't set him up for a great post-not-so-much-the-end-of-the-world start.

and sometimes, being forced to keep running under kinda shitty conditions (such as a crappy job or trying to chase after the love of your life) still keeps you running. but once that all stopped, once aziraphale and crowley were (at least for the time being) free of heaven and hell and could finally just live their lives, crowley seems to just have retreated further back into himself. questioning the whole meaning of existence and not really talking about it to the one person he'd always wanted to be with. which makes sense because more than anything, crowley wants to protect aziraphale. and he‘s definitely the type of demon person to think that sharing your struggles means burdening someone else with them. oh crowley, you and me would have so much to talk about, babe.

so yeah. the world almost ended. and then it just went back to normal. and i think crowley is still stuck somewhere between thinking he'd lost his best friend and love of his life in a fire, almost being anihilated by his satanic boss and then everything simply snapping back into the way it always was – within the span of a day. no wonder he's finding it a little hard to move on.

---

(addendum: there's a great piece of fanfiction called "Demonology and the Tri-Phasic Model of Trauma: An Integrative Approach" that deals exactly with that trauma, in which crowley goes to see a therapist. incredible character study and brilliant writing.)

#crowley #good omens season 2 #go2 #good omens 2 #gos2 #ineffable husbands #trauma #its ok to be overwhelmed crowley babe #he's Been Through It #give my man a break #and a therapist

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sleepingontheclouds · 7 days

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i did a rant for Jason, now I’m doing a rant for my favorite superhero and occasionally morally grey person <3

I’m going to put a trigger warning here and now for the majority of this post. Discussing Dick Grayson for me means talking about very sensitive moments for his character, I will be mentioning and talking about some non-consensual events that happened to him in certain comic canons and one underage event. Please if this can/will trigger you, click off or skim over the parts where I mention it. I will highlight the parts where I actively speak about situations like that in red. Thank you.

Titans

I’ve watched to season 3 of Titans so far and I just gotta say, Dick’s character got a downgrade and an upgrade. Let me elaborate.

Firstly, I love what the writers did and how they characterized the boy wonder in season one. He was an authority figure, a protector. Literally the first time we are introduced to Robin and the first time we see Dick in the Robin suit, he’s brutalizing child abusers.

Throughout the entire first season there are multiple instances of Dick being very protective towards children and very aggressive with people he believes to hurt children.

In a later episode of season one, Dick tracks down a man with Kori after Rachel runs away with Gar. Once he realizes that the man has seen Rachel, let alone in the woods, he immediately goes into attack mode. At that point he believed that Rachel was alone, he didnt know about Gar and he didn’t know that she was with anyone. He punches the man and starts asking if he did anything to her, he goes protective and is very close to breaking that guys nose before his daughter runs out of her room and sees what’s going on, making Dick stop.

Personally, I loved that aspect of his character. It’s not only foreshadowing at the fact that he’s going to become an older brother, I personally think it also hints at a very traumatic event that happened to him in the comics.

It made me so sad to see him lose that aspect of himself after season one. I suppose the overprotective violence faded along side his other more regular violence.

I loved his violent characterization throughout the first two seasons, it really helps understand his character and him as a person.

In the first season, whenever he’s wearing the Robin suit he’s physically incapable of stopping himself from getting too violent, no matter how much he may want to without the costume on.

He stabs people, breaks peoples noses, nearly makes people bleed out, stomps peoples faces in, everything under the sun except kill them. That’s the whole reason he left Gotham, that’s the whole reason he held a grudge against Bruce in season one.

The journey we go through with Dick in season two is an amazing depiction of his character.

The literal order of events just screams mental breakdown to me and the episodes following made me think he had a psychological break, then we find out that he’s just like that.

The events go like this. First Dick starts seeing hallucinations of his father figure which he hates and that’s apparently just a normal thing that happens in Dick’s day to day life? Then he goes Robin mode, hurting a man he used to work with because he’s annoyed with the hallucination of his father. Then he goes to a dance club and nearly kills a man that works with Slade because he has a secret he needs to hide?? Then his traumatized nineteen year old brother tries to kill himself and what does Dick do? He trauma dumps all over Jason hoping that it’ll make him feel better and not want to die. (It doesn’t) then everyone he loves leaves him. He then decides to go visit the mother of the kid he thinks he got killed and finds himself talking to Slade. My guy then books a flight across the world because the fucking assassin with one eye who killed his own son said that he needed to repent by being in isolation?? You know what this dude does instead of going to Japan like he’s supposed to? He assaults two police officers to get himself seven years in jail. You know who he doesn’t tell? Gar. The teenager he left in charge of watching Superman’s clone with no other orders than, ‘call Bruce if he wakes up’ when he knows Bruce will not answer.

Then the dude breaks these gang members out of jail so they don’t get deported, that gets him thrown in solitary. You know what he does in solitary? Hallucinates his dad, fights him in his imagination, and then breaks out of jail.

When Dick eventually grows into his own person after all that insanity, when he becomes Nightwing— he forgives Bruce. It’s another aspect about his characterization that I love. Dick is forgiving, in a good and bad way, until he isn’t.

Dick doesn’t care what people do to him, it’s one of his biggest flaws. He lets himself get hurt over and over again and he just takes it. He lets his peers absolutely bash him and openly hate him, but he’s always still there for them. He always still supports them.

He knows Bruce turned him into a weapon, but he still went back. He went back and tried to ignore everything and forget about all the awful things Bruce did to him. He never directly talks to Bruce about it, sure he’s passive aggressive during [redacted’s] funeral dinner in season 2 but he never actually talks about anything.

The only time he snaps at Bruce is after Jason dies.

After his brother, who he didn’t treat like a brother, dies, he’s trying to cope. Everyone is. He knows Bruce copes in a different way and he respects it, what he doesn’t respect is the fact that Bruce is trying to rope in another child to be Robin. He’s trying to replace Jason right after he dies. That’s when Dick loses his temper.

Even after everything, it takes someone else being hurt for Dick to speak his mind. He never really stands up for himself, he stands up for other people and bottles in his emotions.

Comics

In the comics, Dick is much similar. He bottles up his emotions until he physically can’t.

He’s always trying to be happy, even Nightwing isn’t serious. For Bruce, Batman is a way to let out his true self. Batman is the real Bruce, Bruce Wayne is the mask he hides behind.

It’s exactly the opposite for Dick. Dick Grayson is the caring older brother who has no trauma and exists to help, Nightwing is the funny vigilante, he’s the protector of Blüdhaven who cracks jokes and never breaks a smile while fighting. Either way, Dick just trades in one mask for another.

The only times it’s genuinely him, is when he’s at his most vulnerable. When he isn’t around his family, his brothers, Bruce. That’s when the real him can come out, his real genuine emotions.

In a certain comic run that I’m unsure if it’s still canon or not, Dick gets assaulted. It’s before he has his facade, it’s right when it’s starting to develop. He’s sixteen.

Dick gets in a horrible fight with Bruce, it results in him either running away or getting kicked out, either way he isn’t with Bruce. The sixteen year old is left to fend for himself, then a 21 year old woman who’s targeting Wayne enterprises comes along.

She manipulates Dick and takes advantage of him (along with her husband I think) all to get to Bruce.

He never talks about it.

!! I WILL BE REPLYING TO THIS IN A REBLOG CAUSE THIS IS GETTING VERY LONG AND TYPING IS GETTING SLOW !!

#dick grayson #nightwing #trauma #dc titans #dc comics #dc universe #dcu #batman #batfam #jason todd #He’s so traumatized #:(#I love him #i love him so much #My poor boy #<333 #SORRY THIS IS SO LONG

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charmixpower · 8 months

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Okay, so Selina the earth fairy as an antagonist

S6 did this by, for some insane reason, by making Selina Bloom's childhood friend who's always had magic which doesn't work on literally every level. So I'm going to try and come up with some ideas that make parts of it work

Selina the earth fairy that was taught by Eldora:

Tbh this is the easiest option

Selina is an earth fairy from the old days along with Eldora. During the WotBC attempted wiping out of all magic users they fled to Tir Na Nog and live under Morgana and Nebula

The Legendarum is a book created by ancient Faries that Selina's family has been in charge of caring for for generations

When the fairies of vengeance are released Selina is soooo excited to help kill the Wizards and the Winx, and their leader Bloom take their revenge away from them by complaining that they shouldn't be allowed to kill the people that tried to WIPE THEM OUT

Selina is pissed, and her teacher Eldora, the woman that saved her life, going on about how forgiveness is the way isn't helping

Season 5 teaches her about the rest of the magical dimension, season 5 teaches her about the Trix

The Trix are blinded by their desire for revenge and make the perfect pawns. They don't care what they lose as long as the winx don't win

And Selina assures them, the Winx will not win

Selina the earth fairy that was Bloom's friend:

This one is a very elegant solution me thinks and it's the FUN one.

Selina and Bloom are childhood friends and the main targets for Mitzi's bullying. Bloom has kind parents, Selina does not, and for eight hours a day they have to listen to people talk badly about them. Mitzi never puts hands on them but they're social pariah's and deal with constant verbal harassment and false accusations

First year of highschool is more of the same and Selina is prepared for it to be them against the world again in their second year, and then Bloom never comes to class

Selina is alone to deal with the bullying she at least had a confidant in Bloom to at least tolerate it with, and now she's alone

Mitzi tells everyone that Bloom was sent to a school that caters to the mentally ill to finally convince the 16 year old that fairies aren't real, and Selina makes things worse for herself by defending Bloom

They text each other, not often and Bloom won't tell her what new school she's going to but they still text. Selina comes over when Bloom goes back to earth (and goes home before the Trix show up)

And then the next year Bloom goes to Mitzi's Halloween party with her new, cool, pretty, friends. Bloom excitedly tells her about it, she's finally going to make Mitzi the butt of the joke and all Selina can think is that she's been replaced

That's not fair though? Bloom is allowed to be happy at her new school so she bites her tongue and pushes down her resentment and rejects Bloom's offer to come with

Next year is...fine. Bloom comes to her graduation party, and she's a bit mopey that she didn't graduate with honors like her new friends but is over all more excited to hear about Selina's college plans. Bloom goes on a trip in the middle of summer and comes back glowing because "the mistake in my grades was fixed and now I have honors!" And it sounds like a lie but Selina doesn't bother calling her out on it. I mean? What if she's telling the truth

Then season 4 happens, and then it's revealed that Bloom is a fairy

Not only did Bloom replace her with better, prettier friends, but she also lied to Selina about being a fairy. Lied to her face about everything related to magic because apparently Bloom never trusted her

And Selina burns with resentment

Selina stops responding to Bloom's texts and avoids her. Everyone asks Selina if she knew, if Bloom told her, who those aliens are, and all Selina has is half truths from the stories Bloom spun her to respond with

Seeing Mitzi become a fairy, unaware of the dead magic that run though her, unaware that the power Mitzi was given comes with a price no one should have to pay, Selina is furious. Incandescent

Magic returned to earth and Selina can float small objects. She's one of the few people that after the earth's magic core was repaired gained magic and she's on the bottom of the scale of power in a group categorized by how they're not as strong as those who can use magic without the core

Hatred fills her lungs like smoke

Season 5 Selina sticks to herself. Bloom usually isn't on earth like she was last year and this Diaspro chick who came from a different planet to help earth get caught up with the rest of the dimension is on the TV all the time talking about Bloom. Selina hates the fact that this woman who met Bloom though a knock-down drag-out fight knows Bloom better than Selina ever did

Did Bloom ever think of her as a real friend?

(Bloom couldn't take the one person that was her friend though all of that calling her a liar, she comes to regret this)

Eventually, while stumbling around the woods, far away from faces that could mock and lie to her she stumbles across a book. The Legendarum. It promises her power, Bloom's regret, importance. All she has to do is open it, anyone with magic can, her strength doesn't matter with the Legendarum doing the work for her

How could she ever refuse?

#winx club #winx season 6 #winx selina #winx bloom #winx trix #winx Eldora #wizards of the black circle #winx mitzi #winx headcanons #winx rewrite

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beevean · 4 months

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We finally watched Nocturne.

... what? No, no endless post this time :P not only because it's just one season. It's just as I expected: it's not as infuriating as its big sibling. (unless you're familiar with the French Revolution coughcough@the-crow-binary)

We only watched the first four episodes so far, and I have already said a lot, so let's go.

The thing I complained the most about, I noticed, was the worldbuilding, mostly how vampires work. The original show "elfified" vampires, only keeping the basic traits "need blood, don't like sunlight or running water, can turn into things like bats and mist". They were portrayed as this ancient rage, one with its own culture (much superior than the dumb humans who forget everything because church bad): they sleep normally, they can eat food if they so wish, apparently they can have sex with zero issues lol, and infamously child vampires are treated as, well, innocent children and not as poor human kids suffering a terrible fate. Trevor even kindly tells us that the reason vampires hate crosses regardless of their faith is because their eyesight is so advanced that they freak out at the sight of geometrical shapes. The only monstruous trait they have is that apparently they have a tendency to go insane and crave power. Honestly, they kind of remind me of Twilight.

And somehow Nocturne manages to get it worse.

Now, yes, vampires in Nocturne bite far more often than in the OG show. I think in that other show we see them doing that... twice? And Carmilla and Lenore lick Hector's blood; then they just drink from their stock of blood à la Drac from SoTN. Anyway, Nocturne is more willing to show them as beasts, so good job. Hell, Sun Thundercat even turns a human!

But in this setting, vampires seem to not even have those few weaknesses they had in the OG show. For a story centered on how Sun Thundercat will bring eternal night to the world because sun is the number 1 obstacle to vampires, it's baffling how easily they can just walk around in plain daylight. Olrox looks out of the window with his face illuminated by the sun. Drolta can literally walk just fine, even without a parasol. @spinningbuster98 kept asking "why don't peasants or slaves just destroy the windows of the places where they know vampires live?" - well clearly they'd be fine!

And special shoutout to Drolta who openly mocks the concept of her being hurt by being in a church. At least in S1, Blue Fangs explained its presence in the Bishop's church by blaming his heinous actions for pushing God away.

Vampires are also shockingly well integrated into society. These extremely pale people, with visible pointy ears and long fangs, can chill around in a nice palace or stroll into a theatre, and no one bats an eye. How? In the OG show, vampires could be in a position of power (see the council of Styria), but they mostly worked from the shadows. Did humans just... accept the presence of these monsters?

(the cross weakness becomes way funnier now. Vampires are weak to the religion they used to believe in, so Annette can ask the help of the Christian God to harm previously Christian vampires. I actually like this. But then this makes that OG "vampires have super freaky eyesight" scene even stupider than it used to be)

Another point for the clumsy worldbuilding. Hey, remember how I complained that N!Hector wearing Hector's CoD outfit makes no sense? Because that's what he could cobble up from his old Devil Forgemaster uniform and it's basically the best he can wear for running through the country and fighting, while N!Hector 1) is still in Drac's service in S2 so you'd expect a more professional uniform from him, like the one worn by N!Isaac, and 2) he very much does not fight, making details like the arm guard and the single glove look redudant. We have a similar issue here: Maria, whose design was taken straight out of DXC, complains in the first episode that her mother is too poor to pay taxes. You can tell that she doesn't look that poor. To make things even worse, in the second episode, Tera is able to offer bread to Annette and Edouard: the French Revolution started, among other reasons, because even bread got ridiculously expensive for common people! So which is it? Is Maria one of the common people, or a well-off young woman who really has no business leading the revolution?

And this... is tied to other problems.

The French Revolution is nothing more than a shallow backdrop for the main plot being the Vampire Messiah being hyped up as the greatest evil to ever evil. You can tell the writers did not care when they cast Vaublanc, a real person who fought against slavery, as a vampire slaveowner. I think. I think you shouldn't do that.

The point is, it becomes increasingly jarring when you see that the main protagonists, the ones who spout the most generic "liberty, equality, fraternity"... are not even French. Maria has Russian origins, and as I've shown she seems to be doing well. Richter is a Romanian who grew up in the US. Annette, who gets to make a super epic speech about freedom, is a runaway from Saint-Domingue. Edouard is a rich opera singer, also from Saint-Domingue.

Oh, Annette.

You know, I want to say something. I'd have much more patience for her abrasive, ungrateful, condescending behavior, I'd justify it as a result of her trauma, if it weren't for how mean-spirited she is and for how no one seems to even react to her.

bruh.

You did that, huh. Richter has been nothing but kind and supportive to you, relating to the loss of your friend and of your mother - this isn't a Trevor situation where you can fall for what the story tells you and believe he's actually rude, no, Richter is on-screen a very nice guy! And you say that? To his face? After he revealed to you that the Belmonts used to do magic but he can't because he lost his mom? Something you should know how devastating it feels? And you THROW THAT TO HIS FACE??

Richter is the one who gasps, by the way. Maria and Tera over there? Nah they're just eating popcorn as this stranger is deliberately hitting Richter where it hurts the most. Thanks girls.

Oh but she's not done!

I know what this is. Look at her, the Stronk former slave who suffered Hardships which inherently makes her more Mature and World Wise, looking down on the two white French people who obviously had it so easy in their lives.

Hey, Ms. Adult. Who's the one who lost control of her powers, leading to Edouard becoming a Night Creature? Richter is too nice to throw that in your face. I'm not :)

Hey, Ms. I Suffered More Than You. Who's the one who only managed to save herself from the plantation only due to magical god-inherited powers? Which is also incredibly insensitive to the real-life slaves who managed to escape with nothing more but human skills and intellect?

Hey, Ms. I'm More Mature Than You Whiteys. Who's the one who needed the help of a rich half-white man to be protected? Not that you even know the concept of being grateful.

Uh, and Tera? You mind chiming in? You mind defending your daughter and your adopted son from this stranger who keeps being rude and disrespectful? No? Okay. She just suggests how to save Edouard, but lets Annette's words slide. You and Lisa can compete for the title of Mom of the Year.

Oh, but this is not a sexism or racism issue. This is literally the same thing as Alucard in S2 being the biggest hypercunt to Trevor, making fun of his traumatic childhood, cruelly mocking his family and his legacy, and treating him like he's nothing more than a failure of a drunkard when the dude has been nothing but a help in fights and gave them access to the vast Belmont Hold... and Sypha always rushed in Alucard's defense because boohoo his depression is an icy well of sadness, he Suffered More Than You!

This is just the writers shitting on the Belmonts, and I am sick of it. Trevor did not deserve this, and Richter doesn't deserve this.

Anyway, characters. I have little to say. Richter is the best one, being reasonably cocky as you would expect from him; not to an insufferable degree, just yeah he comes off as an immature young man who needs to grow up. I like him. Maria is a parody of teens on Twitter talking about seizing the means of production, and I kind of forget she's there. Annette, yeah :) Edouard got retroactively characterized after his death, but I still don't know how to describe his personality beyond "helpful" and "source of infodumps". Tera exists. The abbot is profoundly stupid for allying himself with vampires for the sake of crushing the "Godless" Revolution (there's an N!Hector joke to make here but it's not worth it). Drolta is basically Isaac who slapped a pair of tits on himself and just like that she's a beloved slay queen icon. Templar Agent Stone Mizrak is mere bara bait so far. Olrox... well, so far he's mildly intriguing for being outside of the hero/villain dichotomy. Kind of a tryhard, though, and I still don't know why he didn't just kill Richter.

My last complaint is that it's really boring how they hype up Sun Thundercat as this harbinger of DEATH AND SUFFERING AND PAIN AND TERROR way before we even see her. It reminds me of Alucard exposing how a world without humans would be: just this empty, edgy narration with nothing to show for it. But at least by then we had a taste of Dracula's anger and powers, so this is even worse. You need to try harder to build up an antagonist.

and finally, have the best moment in the whole franchise

youtube

BUT, AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH

#anti netflixvania #beev watches nocturne #Youtube

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ohwell-itsme-but-danganronpa · 3 months

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Dragons & Thieves (Saiouma fantasy AU)

seems like the kind of trouble our boy protagonist could find himself in, and then, he could seek out help from someone who's, you know, great at disguising his own magic and deceiving people

Okay, so I think Kokichi should have some dragon ancestry for it to work. His mother is half-dragon and from a noble family, his father is a regular human and a thief. His mother send him away asap to avoid a scandal and he grew up at the guild of thieves. After his dad didn't come back from one of the missions he was told to start earning his keep, probably at around 7–10 years old. The guild used his identity becoming apparent as his ability to use dragon magic manifested to blackmail the noble lady and get some funds, some of it actually was invested into teaching him useful spells. So when they meet he's a seasoned thief and magic user.

THE DRAGON THAT DIED IS KAEDE

I just thought of it, but like. She disguised herself as human and became friends with Shuichi, just wanted a peaceful life, is one human lifetime too much to ask for? Can't an old dragon get some normalcy? Apparently no, a hunter got her (Tsumugi?)

So Shuichi ends up with the magic and gets chased by the very same hunter, goes to hide in a very unassuming, plain looking building. It's the thieves hideout made to look like this with Kokichi's magic. And to any person who has less magic than Kokichi it would be the least attention grabbing background to other buildings in the area and then hardly noticeable to the few that can notice it, so damn. This guy is powerful and desperate. Striking up a deal with him sounds like a great idea, this is a job for the one and only, Kokichi Ouma

It quickly becomes obvious that Shuichi doesn't know how powerful he now is, didn't even know his friend was a dragon before the fated day (the chase either happens really fast or over the course of several months, I am leaning towards the latter because I want him to be over the initial shock and mourning + running out of places to turn to so he doesn't have better ideas than accepting Ouma's help)

So Kokichi has the opportunity of a lifetime to put a really powerful magic user in his debt and takes it. "Sure, I'll protect you and teach you to use dragon magic, you'll just owe me a favor"

Unfortunately for his devilish plan to employ Shuichi on the biggest heist yet, when the time to claim the favor comes he wants something else much more (kiss kiss fall in love, he has to ask him out instead or maybe, maybe "stay")

returntozero: I'm also curious to know if Kokichi thinks Shuichi also is part dragon/has some dragon lineage since this stuff is typically not shared with humans and there may also be a barrier to entry with humans just not taking well to draconic magic anyways.

that could be a funny misunderstanding, and technically he could interpret Shuichi's lack of knowledge on the topic as him being another orphan with even less fortunate circumstances, hmmm

and since he doesn't do well with sensitive topics like that he just leaves it be, and he doesn't ask him to reveal his dragon form when he still has to be in hiding, because no matter how curious he is that's a risk he knows not to take

so he'd learn really late if he didn't know from the get-go, I mean late like at the very end, when it's already safe and he asked Shuichi to stay with him and they can relax so he asks him to go flying together

"But I don't have wings??" "You what?" the end

#danganronpa #ndrv3 #shuichi saihara #kokichi ouma #kokichi oma #oumasai #saiouma #kaede akamatsu #writing prompt #made by me

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kitsune024 · 2 months

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Crossovers

Doctor Who

run, boy, run (the Umbrella Effect) by @ford-ye-fiji I Part 1-13 I Series Completed Crack Treated Seriously, AU - Fusion, Time Travel, Number Five | The Boy is So Done, Action/Adventure, Angst and Hurt/Comfort

Two unlikely allies, familiar in more ways than they can imagine, join forces in a series of happy accidents. And then things get really complicated very fast.

The Walking Dead

From One Apocalypse to Another by y_oruko I Chapters: 17/? I Crack Treated Seriously, BAMF Five | The Boy, BAMF Rick, AU- Canon Divergence, Five has beef with almost everyone, Eventual Found Family, The Walking Dead Season 5

Five lost his siblings to the void of time when he recklessly tried bringing them all to travel back in time. It bit him in the ass and threw him into a world where apparently zombies were real. The universe sure loved to screw him over. Rick didn't know what to expect when he followed the priest into a church, but it's certainly not a homicidal teenager.

The Four Horsemen by @silverwolf3432 I Chapters: 24/30 I Five | The Boy/Original Female Character - Dolores, Whump, Original Character Death(s), Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Torture

Instead of waiting 28 years, the Handler plucks a 15-year-old boy from the rubble of the Apocalypse and trains him to be a killer. So Five knows. He knows what it’s like to live through hell, to be broken down and made back up again, to be stripped of everything. He understands and he can relate to the torture Reginald Hargreeves put his siblings through after he disappears, even if they claim he never could. He knows because he went through it too. Because before he worked alone, there was Dolores. Because before he was the best, they were the best. Because before it was just Five, they were the Four Horsemen.

The Five Whistle by @i-logophile I Chapters: 1/1 I one shot Hurt Five | The Boy, Creepy The Handler, AU- Canon Divergence, Episode: s02e05 Valhalla

“What the hell was that?” Five tried to demand, but his breathlessness ruined the effect. The Handler grinned. “What? This little thing?” she asked, pulling a long, thin device from within the folds of her coat. “This is just a little something I had cooked up back at Headquarters just for you.” She twisted the end of the device. In response, the fabric of space released an unearthly howl of agony, making Five’s legs collapse beneath him. Then it stopped, and a shadow fell over him. “Now about that assignment,” The Handler said, gazing down at him with a predatory grin. – After the Hargreeves’ disaster of a family meeting, Five is still pacing the alley outside of Elliott’s when he’s confronted by The Handler. She presents her offer, but since it’s not his only option just yet, Five declines. However, The Handler isn’t so easily denied, and she decides to use a little something from the Commission to convince Five to rethink his decision.

The Lonely Lodger Inn by @i-logophile I Chapters: 1/1 I one shot Blood and Violence, Gore, BAMF Five | The Boy, Feral Five | The Boy, Episode: s02e07 Öga for Öga

"Ben, are you crazy?! We just watched Número Cinco go fucking apeshit on a room full of random people and—” “What if he had a good reason for it?” Ben interrupted, crossing his arms. “What if they were bad guys or something? Ever think of that?” Klaus scoffed. “‘Bad guys’? Really, Ben? We’re not thirteen anymore.” “Exactly, so use your brain, moron. Why would Five just go around murdering people in the ’60s?” “Oh, I don’t know, because he’s fucking psycho?! He’s probably all screwed up from time travel or something! Who knows what kind of shit—” “Klaus.” “What?” “He can hear you.” -- Or, what if the Board meeting was somewhere in Dallas, and one of Five’s siblings stumbled upon the massacre as it was taking place?

Crocodile Tears by @i-logophile I Chapters: 1/1 I one shot Five | The Boy Cries- but it’s “pretend”, Kidnapping, Drugging, Angst, hurt/some comfort, Post-Season/Series 02, The Commission. Number Five | The Boy Needs A Hug

A plan took shape in Five’s mind. It wasn’t one he particularly liked, and it would be unequivocally humiliating, but with the Commission coming and their powers shot to hell for the foreseeable future, Five couldn’t think of any other option. Didn’t change the fact that he despised crying. -- Five pretends to cry to get an enemy to lower their guard—emphasis on “pretend.” His siblings don’t catch on. After getting over their shock, they become unnecessarily distressed and proceed to flutter around Five like neurotic chickens. Oh, and some people die, but that was kind of the plan all along.

Can you hug me as I go? by maddienole I Chapters: 10/10 I Completed Five | The Boy Whump, Non-Consensual Drug Use, Flashbacks, AU- Canon Divergence, Hurt/Comfort, Angst

What if the FBI captured Five instead of Vanya? 2x7 canon divergence.

Misfortunes with The Sea by @euoniatz I Chapters: 6/6 I Completed Dark Five | The Boy, BAMF Five | The Boy, AU - Canon Divergence, Number Six | Ben Hargreeves Lives - eventually, The Sparrow Academy, Hurt No Comfort, Whump

Five doesn’t hold back anymore, doesn't think he could limit himself again now even if he wanted to. His eyes glow, never to be denied again, and the space around him shifts as if someone is pinching and pulling reality by force. The Boy tries not to laugh, but he feels incredible on a level he has always, during the sad expanse of his life, thought impossible. * When the Hargreeves return from the 60s, Five is already at the end of his rope. He swears off killing, only to find their deceased father in the living room, disapproving as ever. Add six mediocre replacements and a ghost coming back to haunt them and you've got yourself a desperate time traveler whose grip on reality is slipping. Five is willing to sacrifice his own humanity for the sake of his siblings, but is his humanity really the most important thing he could lose? How much power can he afford to let loose before he loses control himself? Will his family even want him after everything is settled?

#tua five #fic rec #fanfic rec #ao3fic #five hargreeves #the umbrella academy #five hargreeves fanfiction #tua #tua fanfic

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unusual-ly · 6 months

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A prompt for Jemima: learning a new song

Another months old prompt finally being filled! Thanks, anon~ I couldn’t think of a story when I first got this ask and only had this idea around mid-August, and worked on it very slowly to post for Halloween season. It takes some time to get to the actual prompt but I enjoyed writing this one ^^

(Note - this does not align with my actual headcanon that living people only hear Jemima sing the one specific song)

Read on FFN

She was sad to hear of Mary’s moving on. Despite the briefness of her interactions with most of the other ghosts, Jemima had been quite fond of Mary; she was kind and motherly, and back when they were all still adjusting to her presence at group events, she would often defend Jemima against some of the crueler comments made, at least after Mary herself had warmed up to her. When Humphrey told her she was gone, she had huddled up in her pantry for days, the first time she’d done so in the last couple of years.

She had come to terms with the loss now, as had the others. And as much as they all missed her, now that they needn’t worry about frightening her, it opened up some new options at Film Club. According to Alison, at least.

Jemima didn’t always join the other ghosts for Film Club; the films they watched often weren’t especially child-friendly, and she wasn’t always interested in the ones that were. However, when October came around, Alison insisted that she come along.

Humphrey came to collect her, along with Pat. Jemima quite liked Pat, if she was honest, and she was glad to see him, even if it didn’t show on her face.

“Jemima!” Humphrey grinned when he saw her, “It seems you’ve been invited to Film Club tonight, Alison’s picked something special seeing as it’s almost Halloween. She’s quite excited about it, actually. Been wanting to show us this one for a while.”

“Why hasn’t she?”

Both men cringed slightly. Pat decided to explain.

“For Mary’s sake, she said. Apparently it’s about witches.”

“Oh,” was all she said in reply before taking Humphrey’s head from Pat and leading the way upstairs.

They joined the others already congregating around the TV. Jemima took her usual place sitting cross-legged on the floor, in front of Kitty this time, briefly handing Humphrey’s head over to Pat so she could get comfortable before taking him back and placing him in her lap. Mike entered then with a bowl of popcorn and Alison directed him to the empty spot beside her. The film began.

Hocus Pocus.

The opening scene - a little girl about her age drained of life by the three sister witches - both intrigued and frightened her, and she pulled Humphrey’s head close to her chest. He gently reassured her it was only a film, and she simply nodded once, and hummed the little song one of the witches had sung to herself.

There was another little girl, named Dani, who Jemima quickly decided was one of her favourite characters, and whenever she teased her brother for his feelings towards the older girl, Allison, Jemima shot Thomas a pointed look. He pretended not to notice, but the way he turned his head, propping his elbow on the arm of the chair and resting his chin in his hand as he crossed his legs, only served to make him look more awkward. Jemima bit back a smile.

Billy, at first, also frightened her, but she soon warmed up to him, especially when he lost his head. She again held her papa closer, her lips brushing his hair.

When Binx the cat was run over, Jemima tensed up, hearing a few gasps behind her; in particular, from Kitty, Pat and Lady Button, but all heaved a sigh of relief when he was revived.

And when the witch called Sarah sang her song once again, Jemima’s eyes were locked, unblinking, on the screen. Humphrey, of course, noticed and chuckled.

“Well, Jem,” he whispered, “I’m afraid you’d be done for if this were real. Lured you right in.”

She only smiled, and sang along as the song continued:

“The time’s come to play, here in my garden of magic…”

Mike suddenly sat up, looking around in confusion, then stared at Alison, who stared right back.

“Was that…” he frowned, “… Jemima?”

“You heard her?”

The ghosts, apart from Humphrey and Jemima herself, all started muttering amongst themselves as Mike and Alison continued.

“… That is what she does, isn’t it?”

“Well, yeah, but I thought it was only with Ring Around The Rosies, wasn’t it?” Alison glanced over to Jemima.

As did everyone else.

Jemima stared back at them, suddenly shy.

“… I never tried any other songs before…” she said in a small voice, “Not around the living.”

Alison relayed this to Mike, and he nodded.

“Huh. Well, that’s a new discovery.”

They all settled down again soon after that, but Jemima’s attention was now divided, as was Alison’s.

——————————

By the time the 31st came around, half of the household was nearly sick of hearing Come Little Children multiple times a day (although only Julian ever dared to complain in Jemima’s presence). Kitty, always up for a sing-along, would often join in.

It gave Alison an idea.

She and Mike decorated the front of the house ready for trick-or-treaters to arrive; Button House was so distanced from the village nearby that they didn’t often get visitors on Halloween but this year, they wanted to give Jemima an audience. Alison made two rustic-looking signs to hang on the front gate: “Trick-or-treaters welcome!” with an arrow pointing towards the house, and “Beware of ghosts!”.

As the first group of children came up the drive, a single adult a few steps behind them, Jemima watched from nearby, clutching Humphrey’s head.

“Ready?” he asked.

There was an anxious pause before she answered, “I don’t want them to be scared of me.”

“Oh, Jem,” Humphrey said softly, “Scaring is what makes Halloween fun, isn’t it? It’s all just pretend, remember. They’re expecting to be scared a little bit. And they’ll probably know the song.”

She took a deep breath and began to move toward the group.

“Come little children-”

The little boy and girl closest to her both jumped and squealed and Jemima stopped, worried.

“Keep going,” Humphrey whispered.

“I’ll take thee away,” she sang, following them as they kept walking, “Into a land of enchantment…”

She heard one of the children saying “It’s Hocus Pocus!” and smiled, growing more confident. She raised her voice ever so slightly, moving around between them now.

“Come little children, the time’s come to play, here in my garden of magic…”

She was leading them towards the door where Alison was waiting in a witch costume with a bowl of sweets and as they approached, she winked at Jemima.

By the end of the night, Humphrey was watching Jemima from his new vantage point on the small table Alison had brought outside as she drifted and danced about in amongst the trick-or-treaters, singing to them all the while, as they continued squealing in both fear and delight.

#bbc ghosts #ghosts bbc #jemima the plague ghost #bbc ghosts jemima #humphrey bone #bbc ghosts humphrey #headless humphrey #Jemima Bone #left a bit #happy Halloween month

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