Life Of Violence Era Masterpost

Sun Ken rock - Yumin

By:Boichi

Colored by BloodyBones

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New XKit 

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Created by: Skulking Foxes (Rowan MacColl)-The Fool

Colored by Bloodybones

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Creepy girl

The Laughing Vampire

Created By Suehiro Maruo

Colored By Bloodybones

Ba-bump

Pairing: Jason Todd/Reader

Genre: fluff

Request: This was requested by @silveririsknightmare

Can you do a Jason imagine where F/N has had a broken childhood and emotionally abusive mother who is codependent & toxic. Bruce adopts her & he moves her in. She has alexithymia so she dosen’t handle “feelings” well and takes everything in strides and is pretty chill Damian likes her cuz shes always there to listen Jason & her soon become lovers (secretly?), one night as shes patching him up she starts crying, she confesses"im not used to it" “what?” “Caring for others so much it.. scares me”

I changed it up a bit here and there, and I apologise for the wait! However, I would like to thank you for introducing alexithymia to me. I’ve been imagining certain characters in my head with this condition but I never knew the medical term for it nor did I know it was an actual disorder.

I had to do a bit of research on this, so I’m going to reference some journals. 

1.  The Assessment of Alexithymia in Medical Settings: Implications for Understanding and Treating Health Problems by  Mark A. Lumley, Lynn C. Neely, and Amanda J. Burger  (https://www.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/pmc/articles/PMC2931418/)

2.  A Behavior Analytic Interpretation of Alexithymia by  Sabrina M. Darrow and William C. Follette (https://www.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/pmc/articles/PMC4248666/) 

Anyway, sorry for the wait! Here it is :)

People are essentially just particles, drifting on a ball in space, colliding with one another. We are born and then we die, and we will eventually end up in the stars that we were so amazed with while alive.

As meaningless our inevitable lives and deaths are, people tend to fill up their temporary existence with religion, tradition, ideas, goals and dreams. People like to feel like they are important, and that there is a reason behind everything. People feel a lot.

They feel joy, and sadness, anger, and excitement. Love.

You wondered how that felt before your thoughts were interrupted by Damian’s loud cry.

“There is a reason why you got resurrected from the grave, Todd!’’ his voice echoed loudly from what you concluded was above you, “And that is so I can put you back in it!”

You heard a loud bang, and the sound of something being knocked over, hitting the wooden floorboards with a thud, followed by heavy footsteps running nearer towards you.

A pair of bright blue eyes appeared in front of your own, holding a cheeky twinkle in them.

“Quick, hide this underneath the sofa cushion!” Jason panted at you, holding out a leather bound book.

You raised an eyebrow at him. Did he really think you were going to participate in this childish activity with him and help hide the book under your seat?

“Dammit, hurry up before he gets here!” he pushed.

You didn’t know why seeing him so desperate and close to you made you feel queasy in the stomach. At that distance, you could make out the tiny white scars that littered his face, scars that were too small to detect at a mere glance. But they were there, almost complimenting his angular features.

“I refuse to participate in your childish activities,” you turned your nose at him.

“Come on, don’t be a buzzkill, it’s just a little fun,” he urged.

That annoyed you, being called a buzzkill. It was one of the many things you have been called, aside from “uptight”, “robot”, and “a downright bitch”.

Mother never called you those things. Granted, she called you other nasty names, but she loved you, and told you that if you had stayed with her, you wouldn’t get hurt by other people. I will always protect you, love. Everyone out there, they will all hate you in the end.

Maybe Mother was right.

You forced yourself to push that thought to the back of your mind.

You snatched the book from Jason, just as Damian came tumbling into the living room. Jason stood upright in front of you, blockin Damians view of the book in your hands.

“Todd!” cried the little spunky kid with spiky hair, “I demand you to return my belonging right this instant!”

“Your belonging?” Jason sneered, “Oh, you mean your diary?”

“It- it’s a journal!” stammered Damian.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” he shrugged.

“I will gouge your eyes out where you stand!”

“If you can even reach them,” he sniggered.

“Why you-” Damian made to jump at the much taller man, but you peeked your head from behind him just in time.

“Dames,” you called endearingly, “I have your journal. Here.”

You tossed the book into his arms before Jason could swipe it back from you.

“Thank you,” Damian nodded at you, a slight tinge of red creeping up his cheeks, “At least someone respect people’s privacy.”

The way Jason turned to look at you showed that he was annoyed. You were bothered by it, but it wasn’t particularly unpleasant. In fact, sometimes you realised you had the tendency to annoy him on purpose, even, for reasons unknown.

But Mother would have disproved, and she would have been very vocal about it. She would have stopped you from interacting with them altogether.

The sudden thought of that Woman surprised you yet again. She had been increasingly invading your mind as of late.

Damian left the room to keep his journal in a better hiding place. , but Jason remained in the living room and sank down next you on the sofa. He was close to you, you could feel his heat on your shoulders and he was bumping his knees against yours.

You could smell his cologne mixed with a hint of leather, mingling with an unexpected floral scent of what was unmistakably his shampoo.

Ba-bump your heart went, but you never knew why it did that whenever he was close.

You heard him sigh out loud, and expected him to say something, but he didn’t.

You pointed the remote, and the TV flickered on.

He sighed again.

What was he hinting at?

Another minute passed before he left out a longer and louder sigh.

“What?” you snapped.

“Huh? I didn’t say anything,” he looked blankly at you, and then paid attention to the commercials on the television.

He was very obviously testing you patience, and intentionally making your blood pressure increase.

You tried to not let him get to you, so you ignored him.

Lately you noticed something weird about yourself whenever you were with him. Little things like how your eyes would meet for a split second and then you would dart them away, feeling your cheeks heat up.

It also felt like your stomach was doing gymnastics as well, flipping over and all that.

You didn’t know why, and that had always been your problem.

Forget about it, child. Mother is here. And while I’m here, you don’t need to worry about a stupid little thing like your feelings.

You wanted her out of your head. Why was she sneaking back in? Why couldn’t she just-

Jason let out the loudest and most dramatic sigh yet.

You spun towards him in fury and grabbed the front of his shirt.

“What’s your problem?” you demanded, “Out with it!”

His eyes grew wide in surprise at your sudden assault, before he started to go into a giggling fit.

“I just- I just wanted to see your- your reaction,” he gasped in between laughs.

You scowled at him until he stopped laughing, fist still in the material of his cotton shirt.

“Your face is so scary,” he teased you, obviously amused.

Ba-thump, your heart went, and you let him go.

“You should learn to take a chill pill once in a while you know?” he commented, “The reason why we all like to tease people is because of how they react. Take Damian for example.”

You could almost hear Mother telling you- this time not your delusions desecrating your sound mind, but a memory resurfacing from a time that seemed so long ago.

“I told you so, darling. Everyone hates you. Mother is the only one who will love you. Come to me, now.”

You tasted bile at the back of your throat.

The awkward silence filled the space between the two of you, and then-

“Do you miss her?” Jason asked, as though he was listening to the ongoing battle in your head.

You knew who he was talking about instantly, as his tone softened.

“To be honest, I don’t know,” you replied genuinely.

“Is it a ‘yes but also no’ thing?” he guessed.

“What do you mean?”

“Like, yes you miss her but at the same time you don’t want to?”

“Oh…” you tried to piece it together, “I guess so. I don’t know.”

“Do you visit her often?” he inquired again.

“I wanted to, but something always stopped me,” you confessed, “I haven’t seen her since Bruce took me in.”

“It’s normal to be traumatised, you know,” he soothed, “I mean she did try to- I mean- you know…”

“You mean she did try to stab me to death?” you chuckled darkly.

Suddenly the scar on your left stomach, just below your ribcage, seemed to burn.

“Yeah,” he scratched the back of his head.

“You don’t need to be careful with me, Jay. Especially you,” you smirked.

“What do you mean?”

You looked at him with a poker face and started, “You got beaten by a crowbar, and then the building exploded, and then you had to climb your way out of your own coffin, and then-”

“Okay, okay, I get it,” he rolled his eyes at you.

“My point is, you out of all people don’t need to be careful with me,” you assured him.

It’s not like you were sensitive anyway.

“Well back to my original point,” he continued, “It’s okay to be traumatised by something like that.”

“It’s been five years,” you dismissed it, “I’m over it.”

You really wanted to believe that you were, but Mother being in your head recently was proving you otherwise.

“I still have nightmares you know,” he said so softly, almost like he was murmuring to himself, “About that night.”

You were shocked into silence at Jason’s sudden revelation. He had always seemed so unaffected by everything, as he treated his tragedy like one big joke. But looking at him then, you realised he seemed hesitant and unsure of his words, avoiding eye contact with you and fiddling his thumbs.

He looked vulnerable.

Could you do that? Be vulnerable and open to someone?

Even when Bruce found you cowering in the closet, covered in your own sticky, dark red blood, clutching the gash Mother made- even then, you didn’t cry.

If I can’t have you, no one can.

You swallowed the bile back down.

“Patrol,” you announced.

“Hmm?”

“Damian’s calling you for patrol,” you clarified, and true enough, you could hear his voice faintly echoing in the distance, calling for Todd… down here… useless…

He groaned and then got up from the sofa, stretching his arms.

“You coming?” he turned to you.

“It’s Alfred’s turn to be on your comms tonight,” you pointed out.

“You always end up down there regardless,” he rolled his eyes at you.

“Yeah, we’ll see,” you replied absentmindedly, and waved him away.

Your heart had never been so frantic before. There was something wrong with Mother, and it was all your fault. She saw you talking to the boy who lived one floor below you in your apartment complex.

He was cute, and friendly, and kind. He offered you a gum, you took it. He was 13, like you were.

At first you thought it was just one of her normal mood swings. You thought you could get away with a slap or two. But when you entered your unit, you saw her in the kitchen with her hair wild, sobbing. Tears and snot ran down her face into her mouth, which was in a grimace.

“You want to run away from me, don’t you?” she yelled.

“No, Mother! I was just talking to him, that’s all!” you tried to convince her.

“You want to throw me away so you can be with him, you ungrateful whore!” she roared and lunged at you with the kitchen knife she hid behind her back.

You crashed onto the floor. Somehow there were broken fragments of glass all around you. The vase on the table must have toppled over.

She climbed on top of you, holding you down with her weight.

She lifted her right arm, the glint of the blade she had reflected the city lights from outside, and before you could defend yourself, you felt a searing pain in your abdomen.

“If I can’t have you, no one can,” she whispered, and wrenched the knife out of your body.

Her second stab was interrupted by something black that someone threw at her hand. She howled in pain and dropped the knife.

A crash.

You looked towards the window and saw a dark shadow.

Mother got off you in terror, but clutching your wound, you ran into your closet, and waited. You were seeing black spots. You were sleepy. It would be nice to sleep.

Your dream was interrupted by the sound of commotion. You hadn’t realised you had fallen asleep on the sofa.

“Should we wake her?” you heard Damian whisper.

“Let her sleep,” Bruce whispered back, “We can tell her in the morning.”

“Tell me what?” you spoke, rather groggily. You opened your eyes to see Alfred, Damian, and Bruce standing a few feet away from you in the living room, with concern in their eyes. Damian and Bruce still had their uniforms on.

“Bruce!” you gasped, “You’re bleeding!”

You got up and hurried to him after seeing the smears of blood on his torso.

“It’s not mine,” he told you.

“Oh, that’s good,” you breathed in relief, “Where’s Jason?”

The three of them exchanged glances.

“My dear, I’m afraid Master Todd has taken one too many injuries. He is currently resting in the infirmary,” Alfred explained.

You felt your heart drop to your stomach.

“Is- is he okay?” you looked at them, “What happened?”

“We had an issue with Bane,” Bruce replied this time, “Jason went ahead first without us, and when we reached- he- he was on the ground unconscious. Bane has been subdued. For now.”

“He has a concussion, and many broken bones, I’m afraid,” Alfred added, “But he will be fine. He is resting.”

You felt an overwhelming sense of dread, and tears started pooling at your eyes, a rare instance.

You immediately went to the infirmary to see him.

Ba-bump.

You almost choked when you saw him lying there on the white hospital bed, half his face covered in bandages, that wrapped around his head. His torso was covered as well, he was wrapped like a mummy.

Where you could see skin, it was blue black.

You felt your chest physically hurt, like someone was squeezing it. You opened your mouth and let out an involuntary sob.

What was this feeling? You hated the pain, you never felt anything like it, even when you got stabbed.

You crumbled by his bedside, and started wailing.

Was this love? Was this what everyone feels when they loved someone? When they care? If so, you didn’t want it. You wanted to go back to how you were before.

But you knew you couldn’t. You knew you could never turn back from loving him.

You stayed there the whole night, clutching his hand, waiting for him to wake up.

The first thing Jason heard was the sound of some sort of annoying beeping, and the first thing he felt was the thirst, and then the migraine, and then he found that it was hard to breathe.

He opened his dried mouth and rasped, “Water.”

He heard a gasp next to him, and then suddenly a straw to his lips.

He took a big sip but it went down the wrong tube, and sputtered it out.

“Slowly, Jay,” he heard your familiar voice. The voice that makes him get butterflies.

He slowly opened his eyes and winced at the pain of the bright light. The sun was out, and the curtains drawn back, and he found that he was in his own room, only that there was an EEG next to his bed and an IV drip.

And then he saw you.

Your eyes were red and swollen, and your lower lip was trembling. At that instant, he completely forgot about his pain.

“Sweetheart, what’s wrong? Are you okay?” he croaked.

Your eyes widen in surprise, and then you sniffled, while giggling?

“Why are you crying?” he inquired softly.

“I’m just- you just- you’re the one who’s hurt and you ask me what’s wrong?” you let out a watery chuckle, “That’s so typical of you.”

“I’ve never seen you cry,” he admitted. He had never seen you so vulnerable, so delicate. He wanted to protect you.

“I was- I was worried about you,” your voice quivered.

“Don’t worry about me, baby bird,” he smiled, albeit painfully, “I’ve been through worse. This is nothing.”

“I know, but,” you started but trailed off.

“But?” he prodded.

“I’m not used to this. Caring about someone,” you whispered, “It’s so scary.”

“You only just realised you cared for me?” he smirked.

You looked away, embarrassed.

“Hey,” he called to you softly, “You can talk to me.”

You pursed your lips, hesitant. “I think- I think I love you,” you blurted out.

“Is this what it takes to get you to confess to me?” he started laughing, but stopped halfway due to the pain, “I would have taken a beating much sooner.”

“Don’t say that!” you scolded.

“I never thought you’d be the one to say that to me first,” he sighed, “I’m losing my touch.”

Inside, he felt happy. He would jump for joy and do somersaults across the room if it weren’t for his injuries.

“I love you too, princess. Always had. I was afraid you didn’t feel the same way because…” he tried to put the words together, “You’ve always been so… Private.”

“I didn’t know what love felt like, so I couldn’t have known,” you started fiddling with your thumbs. He thought you looked so fucking cute.

“But you do now?” he asked.

You looked up to meet his eyes, and he saw such emotion behind them in place of the confusion or coldness that was always present before.

“Yeah. Yeah, I do,” you assured him, “I know I love you.”

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Spectre Masterlist

A Moon Knight Halloween Love Story

Send me your Spectre theories!

Event #1: Are You In the House Alone?

Event #2: It Comes At Night

Event #3: Soul Survivors

Event #4: From Dusk Till Dawn

Event #5: House at the End of the Street

Event #6: A Nightmare on Elm Street

Event #7: Angel Heart

Event #8a: Us

Event #8b: You Won't Be Alone

Event 9: Little Shop of Horrors

Event 10: One Missed Call

Event 11: Halloween Ends

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Overall fic summary: Marc Spector and his alters Steven and Jake have lost the love of their lives. They each try to move on, in their own way, but getting over you is the hardest thing they've ever faced. Marc starts to see you everywhere - he's haunted by your memory. No, literally, why are you sitting on the end of his bed? He believes in ancient deities, seeing how Jake still serves one as Moon Knight. But ghosts?

Pairing: Moon Knight system (Marc, Steven, Jake) x f!reader

Overall fic content: 18+ only. This is a ghost story.* It is also a love story. Reader character has passed away. Hasn't she? Angst, themes of death and dying*, grief, various healthy and unhealthy coping mechanisms, violence, alcohol, mentions of food, swearing, pining, some arguing, crying, some smut (more erotic/suggestive than explicit), some fluff, mystery, suspense. *if you are sensitive to thriller/horror elements, death/dying or anything mentioned above, please do not feel the need to read this.

However, if you love to get in the spooky mood and/or you enjoy love stories, I promise this is for you.

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