#THANK U FOR THE PROMPT<3

[hailsatanacab]

I'll ask after that secret number 8!

I only remembered secret number 8 because I saw your wip here! I'd started this one based on the same prompt, then lost said prompt and stopped working on it 😅

Instead of a snippet, I'm just dropping it all here - maybe that way I'll feel inspired to finish it?

———

It’s a full house for dinner tonight and, really, that should have tipped him off.

Bruce sits at the head of the table, smiling softly as he watches over everyone’s antics. Damian is regaling Dick with everything they saw at the zoo that day (Danny had been so happy to see Delilah the purpleback gorilla again, and her new little additions to the troupe, too!) and how well they are implementing the grant the Wayne Foundation had gifted them. Tim, Steph, Cass, and Duke are all engaged in a thumb-war tournament which Danny has no interest in participating in. It just wouldn’t be fair on them.

Danny loves that look. The one where Bruce’s eyes crinkle when he thinks none of the kids can see him. It oozes love and it makes Danny’s heart, his core, ache. 

It’s been a little over a year since Alfred found him on the street and managed to wrangle him back to the manor to stay—even after the whole biting thing when he realised how rich they were. 

A little over a year here and Danny’s starting to feel like family.

Starting to feel like he might, just maybe, like to make it official.

“Danny,” Bruce says, drawing everyone’s attention. Danny starts at his name, but Bruce’s voice is warm and calm, and his shoulders lose their tension almost immediately. “Danny, I have something I would like to tell you.”

“Uhhh…” is all Danny can croak out, eyes flicking back and forth between Bruce and the rest of them. Smooth. Looking good, Danny.

Except… they’re all happy. All smiles, all relaxed body language, all radiating calm and love and acceptance. Well, not Damian—his face is as thunderous as it always is—which at least means it’s nothing too out of the ordinary.

“Danny, first of all, I just want to impress upon you that this is in no way something you have to do. You are under no obligation to join us and, no matter what, you shall always be welcome with us in the manor.”

Wait, what? Danny squints at Bruce, trying to parse exactly what he’s saying… Is he—is this them asking to adopt him? Do they want to make it official, too? 

It’s been a little over a year and of course Danny has imagined calling Bruce ‘Dad’. Of course he’s imagined being part of the family, of course he wants to make it official!

He can’t help the beaming grin or the bright and bubbling “Yes!” already waiting on his lips. All Bruce has to do is ask, all Danny needs to hear is—

“I’m Batman.”

The smile freezes on Danny’s face.

His lungs stop working, his heart stops working, he stops working, he just—

“And I’m Nightwing,” Dick smiles, breaking the awkward silence. 

Danny’s eyes snap to him, and then down to Tim when he admits to being Red Robin. Duke is Signal, Steph is Spoiler. Damian begrudgingly tells him he’s Robin, but Danny can barely hear it over the ringing in his ears.

“I’m Black Bat.” Cass cocks her head, almost looking concerned. It always felt like she understood him the most. Whenever he was feeling low, too in his memories, or stewing after a nightmare, she was always there, ready to card her fingers through his hair and never mention his tears. It makes his heart ache to think of it now. “It’s okay, Danny.”

It’s meant to be reassuring, but how—how can it be okay? How? 

Danny’s spent a little over a year with them. A little over a year with Batman. 

Batman, who works with the Justice League, who works with…

A little over a year. 

Just under 16 months since he escaped.

“Danny? Are you alright?” Bruce asks

Finally, his lungs kickstart and suck in a shuddering breath, only for everyone to drop their smiles.

Didn’t take them long, did it? Now that their ruse is up, there’s no kindness in their eyes, they’re just… cold, calculating. Evaluating. 

“Why?” Danny gasps, his fingers tingling, his heart in his throat.

Just under 16 months since he—has he escaped? Or was this just another one of their experiments?

"I... I trusted you, why—" Danny chokes back a sob, gritting his teeth as his shoulders shake. Why? Why would they do this? "I was happy here, with you. I thought... Weren't you happy?"

"Danny..." Bruce is looking at him, eyes narrow and eyebrows pinched, in some cruel facsimile of confused concern and all Danny can think is how much of an actor he is. How well he can play the part of a doting father. How much he made him want that.

"I don't understand, why..." 

"I'm sorry we didn't tell you before, I can imagine that it comes as a shock. We shouldn't have lied to you, Danny, but—"

"Stop it!" Danny slams his hands down on the table and pushes himself up on wobbly legs. Even standing, he feels so small. Smaller than Bruce, than all of his adopted siblings. They crowd above him when they all stand, too. "Just stop it! Why are you doing this, why are you still pretending? Stop it!"

It was easier, with Danny's biological parents. The knowledge that they'd do anything to get him on a lab table, to open him up and see what makes him tick, to rip him apart molecule by molecule, had always been there. He knew they hated ghosts. He knew they hated Phantom. He knew they hated him. It was easier because it was something he'd known all his life. When he died, when he became a ghost, he knew what to expect from them. It hurt, of course it did.

But it was easier than this.

"Danny, I'm going to need you to take a deep breath. You're having a panic attack and you need to breathe."

"Breathe?" Danny laughs, the sound harsh and choking, too high pitched in his hysteria. "You're joking, right? Or is this just more of the—the experiment?"

"Danny, please, we don't know what you're talking about, you—"

"You don't know? You're Batman! You work with the Justice League, you work with—" His words choke off as his stomach churns, bile rising in his throat. His whole body itches, screaming at him to leave, he can't go back, he can't, he can't, he can't!

Bruce takes a hesitant step forward and Danny scrambles back, his feet catching on the chair behind him and sending him careening to the floor. Where are the agents? Why aren't they swarming in, ready to apprehend him, strap him back on the table, carve him from the inside out.

"Please, Danny, calm down. We don't—"

Danny stops listening. His back hits the wall and he pulls his knees into his chest, his shoulders dipping down as he begins to sob. His heart throbs inside his throat, too painful to swallow around. Tears fall hot and heavy on his face.

Sure, he could run. He could phase out through the wall and he could be out of Gotham in a couple of hours. He's escaped the GIW once, he can do it again.

But that was before Batman knew who he was. Before he had the World's Greatest Detective on his tail.

Before he... 

He really thought this would be different, you know?

He wanted to make it official.

"Why did... Why were you so nice to me? Why did you make me like you? I really—I really liked you. I-I thought we could be a family."

"Danny, we are a—"

"Don't lie to me!" Danny snaps, but the force of his anger leeches all the fight from him, and suddenly all that's left is a bone-weary tiredness. There’s a lump in his throat that hurts. There’s a line down his chest that burns. "I don't care. I don't care anymore, I don't. Just... don't make me go back there. Please." 

Is it futile? He thought he knew how the GIW operated by now, the depths that they would go to achieve their results, but this... this was a whole new level of pain that Danny thought he had left behind him in Amity.

"We're not going to make you go anywhere, Danny, you're safe here, I promise."

"Safe? Safe? You must have—" he takes a deep breath, tries to stop the quivering of his voice. It’s all starting to make sense, now.  "The reason you're telling me who you are is because you must have told them everything already. I know the Justice League—I know you're working with them, which means the ex-experiment is over now, and they're coming to take me back. And I can't go back."

"Danny—"

"I can’t!” Danny glares at Bruce with all the rage he can, fingernails digging into his skin. “I’m not going back!"

"That's right, you're not going back, Danny. I won't let that happen." Bruce crouches down in front of Danny, his hands open and raised as if he's trying to say he's not a threat. "I don't know who you're talking about, and I'm sorry about that, but I can promise you that you’re not going back there. We will keep you safe."

Danny pulls himself closer, tucks himself further into the wall, eyes flickering all across the room waiting for that tell-tale flash of white as the agents start to swarm.

He should take his chances now and run, he should go, he needs to go!

The rest of them, his brothers and sisters of a little over a year, are spread out, giving him and Bruce some space. The same concern colours all of their faces. Why are they still pretending?

Steph is chewing on her thumb. 

Danny liked Steph and her brash confidence, her jokes. She's been promising to paint his nails for months now, they've just never found the time. He was going to go for green and black, or maybe a galaxy theme, depending on what she felt comfortable doing.

He likes them all.

"You were supposed to be my family." His mouth turns down at the corners and his voice shakes like a child. "You were supposed to—why? Why would you—I don't understand why you would make me like you..."

"This isn't an experiment, Danny," Bruce's voice is steady, soothing. "I promise."

"But you work with them and—"

"Who do I work with?"

"The Justice League."

"Yes, I do, but we—"

"And the Justice League works with them. The GIW." Danny trembles with the name, clutching tightly onto his hoodie. "I'm not going back there, Bruce."

Danny doesn't miss Bruce's look over his shoulder, nor Tim's nod in return. Tim turns slightly to the side to hide his movements, but Danny bets he has his phone in his hand, probably letting them know they can take him now. Guess this is it, then. They'll be here soon, and he'll be gone.

"Kill me."

"Danny? What do—"

"If you ever had any kindness for me, if you ever cared, kill me. Please, Bruce. I can't do it again."

"Danny..."

"End me now. Take my core out and break it, please, before they get here."

#dpxdc #dcxdp #dpxdc fanfic #wip game #thanks for the ask <3 and thanks for helping me remember this fic lol #also huge thanks for having the prompt linked because i have S O M A N Y prompt wips that i can't ever post because i've lost the post #didn't really know how to get danny to calm down #that's a lie #i have a few ideas of where this can go but no motivation for it - not against all the other wips #i'll keep at it and ig post to ao3 should it actually start looking alright #¯\_(ツ)_/¯ #dudes did u kno u can pin shit to your clipboard on desktop because i fucking love that #also if you use the windows key + . there's like emojis and shit #(((φ(◎ロ◎;)φ))) #<- and kaomoji too!!!!! #anyway that's been fun facts and fanfic with me. ur welcome #oh shit my writing tag #hailsatanacrab🦀🦀writes #at some point 'oh shit my writing tag' will just become my writing tag #anyway thank you again for the ask #good night everyone!!!!!

[luxaofhesperides]

For ghost lights prompts: eldritch/creepy/weird Danny + shy/flustered Duke + hand holding

Your ghostlights fics are giving me so much joy RN I cannot express how much, if this prompt doesn't spark a brain worm for it I get it but I'm excited to read all the others you may wind up posting

There’s a new kid at West Robinson High School. 

This normally wouldn’t be a big deal. They get plenty of new students, being an average high school; not prestigious like Gotham Academy, but not terrible like some of the schools in the lower South Side. New kids are hardly anything to make note of, but something about this student has everyone paying attention to him.

It’s not charisma. The guy doesn’t talk to anyone. It’s not attractiveness, because no one really knows what he looks like under the tattered hoodie he wears all the time. It’s not curiosity, not really, because the student body moves around him like he’s dangerous, not like they want to pry all his secrets out into the open. 

It doesn’t help that Duke sees things around him. 

He considers briefly telling someone about it, but then remembers having to argue for returning to West Robinson High School instead of being put in Gotham Academy and decides that Bruce can continue to mind his own business. It’s not like this new kid has done anything bad (yet) and Duke can handle investigating this on his own.

So he watches, catching glimpses of the new kid—Danny Fenton—in hallways during passing period, hiding away at lunch, disappearing into the streets as soon as the school day is over. They even share a class together, French Language and Culture, but Danny is always in the back corner, ignored and made invisible by everyone else. 

Well. That’s not quite true. 

There are shadowy figures that surround Danny and they never leave him alone. Even when he’s got his arms folded on his desk, head down, looking as if he’s asleep, these figures pull at the hood covering his head or reach semi-transparent hands down to pet his hair. And Danny reacts to them, lightly batting their hands away or turning his head away from them.

Duke has no idea what they are. Ghosts are his best guess, but he can’t confirm it. As far as he knows, ghosts are magic and can only be seen by magic users, which Duke very much is not. They do lead to cold spots, keeping the temperatures noticeably colder around Danny, and make the shadows darker, which only makes other students more nervous about being near Danny. 

Through his week of observing Danny, beyond the ghostly figures and visible unease he causes in everyone, what Duke learns is that Danny is lonely. 

No one talks to him. People barely look at him. Teachers avoid calling on him when they can. 

And Danny accepts it. He fades into the background, keeps out of the way, shrinks in on himself. 

No one else sees it. No one else wants to see him.

It’s breaking Duke’s heart, just a little bit.

He’s lucky that he’s not an outcast at school. With his meta gene awakening and his free hours taken up by Bats and fighting crime, it’s hard to have much of a social life, but he still has a few friends during the school hours he can hang out with. Danny doesn’t have anyone, and the more Duke sees how isolated he is, the more upset he becomes.

Which brings him to step two of his investigation: befriend Danny.

So what if he has some ulterior motives! He also just wants to give this guy someone to hang out with! What little glimpses of Danny’s face he’s able to get show him a tired teenager, worn down the way Alley kids are when they’re at the end of their rope and have nothing left to give.

Duke’s first attempts at befriending Danny fail so fast it’s almost funny. It’s as if Danny knows when someone is seeking him out, because every time Duke goes to where he is, Danny up and disappears, hurrying away and vanishing in the crowded hallways, or in the alley a few buildings past the school, or into the fucking restroom, which is always empty when Duke goes in after him. Trying to use his powers to see where Danny goes next doesn’t help either; all he sees is some glowing figure resembling Danny walk through walls, which is either due to Danny being a meta or from Duke’s powers deciding to be unhelpful.

He’s about to resort to Tim level stalking to finally have a conversation with Danny when his French teacher blessedly (and unknowingly) aids him on his mission.

“Find a partner, everyone!” she instructs with a clap of her hands near the end of class. “This is a translation project, and you’ll be doing them in pairs to check each other’s work and decide how to best interpret something into English. If you don’t have a partner in the next minute, tell me and I’ll assign you someone.”

The class is a flurry of movement just as the last word leaves her mouth, friends turning to each other or running across the room to make sure they’re partnered up before anyone else can butt in. 

No one looks at Danny. Which means Duke can just skirt along the wall of the classroom until he’s next to Danny, gently knocking on his desk to get his attention.

Danny looks up, and Duke sees a flash of blue before Danny averts his gaze, tilting his head down again. “Yeah?” he says, and his voice is much softer than what Duke imagined. He expected something hoarse and rough, a little deep, intimidating. Instead, it’s gentle and quiet and smooth. 

It’s a nice voice. It’s a shame that no one else has really heard it.

“Wanna be partners?” he asks, as if he’s offering a choice. They both know no one else is going to ask Danny, and if he wants to avoid talking to the teacher, then he has to work with Duke.

Danny sighs. “Sure.” 

And then he puts his head back down on the desk. 

Duke backs off. This is the best he’s going to get right now. Now that he’s got an excuse to spend time with Danny, he can take his time breaking down his walls and getting to know him. He watches as a figure from the usual group that hangs around Danny breaks away and gently brushes a hand against Danny’s arm. Then they turn to Duke and reach for him.

He moves without thinking, stepping out of the way. The shadowy figure fades back, almost invisible even to his eyes, and Danny’s turned his head to lay his piercing gaze on Duke.

…There’s no way that blew his cover, right? 

He didn’t just reveal one of his meta abilities from taking a single step to the side. No way. 

But Danny’s eyes are a deep blue that seem almost endless as he keeps his attention on Duke. It feels as if he’s staring into Duke, seeing more than what he wants to reveal. 

“Alright, looks like everyone’s found a partner! As you head out, be sure to grab a practice packet from my desk to work on some translation. There are due the next time we meet, and I will be handing out your individual passages once these have all been turned in.” Their teacher sets a large stack of papers onto the corner of her desk, then gets to work erasing the whiteboard just as the bell rings. 

Students grab their bags and rush to take one of the packets before heading out to their final class of the day. Duke stays behind with Danny, waiting for most of the class to leave before swinging his backpack onto his shoulder and grabbing a packet for both of them.

He hands one to Danny, who takes it with some hesitancy and a quiet, “Thanks.”

He leaves before Duke does, and though it’s only a second between his leaving and Duke stepping out the door, Danny’s already vanished from sight.

As soon as school ends, Duke heads for the Hatch, hoping a quick evening patrol will help clear his mind. It’s a quiet evening, though, so he’s left with his thoughts more often than not, staring out over the city long enough that Oracle asks him if he’s alright.

Against his better judgment, he says, “I’ve been looking into something, but I’m not finding much. Can you do some research on Danny Fenton?”

Oracle is already typing before he finishes asking. “What am I looking for?”

“Anything. He’s… strange. I don’t know if he’s a meta or just lightly haunted. But there’s something up with him.”

“Do we need to be keeping a closer eye on him?”

Duke considers. None of them ask Oracle to look into specific people unless they’re dangerous. But danger is not the sense Duke gets from Danny. It’s more like he’s hiding, shying away from the world, constantly on edge. “No. If anything, he might be in danger. Something happened to him, because no one ends up like that by living an average life.”

“I’ll let you know what I find. Turn in for the night, it’s quiet out and you’re too distracted to patrol properly.”

“You got it, O.” He salutes the nearest camera, knowing she’ll see it, and makes his way back to the Hatch to change back into civies and get started on his homework.

When he next goes into his French classroom, all the desk has been rearranged so they’re all in pairs, side by side. Already, patterns are filling up the desks, so Duke heads for the back and sits down where Danny usually hides away. He’s not here yet, which is making Duke realize that he’s never actually seen Danny walk into the classroom and head to his seat.

Did he just never pay attention? Has Danny always just slipped in unnoticed until attendance was taken? How did Duke miss that?

There’s movement in the desk next to him. Duke goes to say that he’s waiting for his partner, so please sit somewhere else, when he realizes that it’s Danny who managed to sneak in yet again.

“Hey,” he says after a moment, hoping his surprise is hidden.

There’s a pause, and then Danny returns, “Hey, Duke.”

That’s all they have time for before class is starting and their teacher goes around to collect homework. She then hands out new packets, each one a different section of L’Ecume des Jours, and gives them the rest of class to begin working on translating it. 

Duke is already dreading it as he flips through the three pages they were given to translate, stapled to each other beneath the two page instructions of how to format the final translation, how to document their previous translation drafts, and what to include in the reflection essay. 

There’s no way he can get all of this done in a week. 

On the other hand, it gives him a week to learn more about Danny. He needs to make the most of it.

“This is a lot,” he comments, hoping to prod Danny into conversation.

Danny shrugs.

“Can we work on this together after school today? Or do you have plans?”

“We can work on it today,” Danny says, voice barely louder than a whisper. He’s already scanning the pages, underlining certain words and phrases. 

Duke hurries to get to work as well, trying to parse out meaning from the text through single words scattered on the page. 

Qu’est-ce que vous faites dans la vie, vous? 

J’apprends des choses, dit Colin. Et j’aime Chloé. 

Duke nods to himself. He definitely doesn’t know French. Well, he knows qu’est-ce que. He knows vous. He know j’apprends and j’aime Chloé. Also dit Colin. Fairly simple, but with the missing pieces to the rest of those sentences, he really doesn’t know what’s going on beyond the fact that it’s a conversation and Colin loves Chloé.

When he glances at Danny’s desk, he’s shocked to see that his partner is already translating the first few lines into something that reads like normal English.

“Oh, wow,” he says, leaning over to get a better look, “You’re definitely better at this than I am.”

“I just like languages,” Danny replies, turning his paper so Duke can read it more easily.

“Have you been hiding your French skills this entire time? I could have definitely used your help before this.”

Danny goes still for a moment, eyes flicking towards his right where a shadowy figure has placed a hand on his shoulder. Then he turns to fully face Duke and says, “Better late than never. What do you need help with?”

“Everything.”

His immediate answer makes Danny smile, and he begins talking in that soft, soothing voice of his. He talks about not trying to translate everything into English immediately, but to understand the French and take it in as a whole language itself. He talks about getting the idea of the text first, the feeling of it, before trying to fit it into English. He talks about splitting up the text into sections to make it easier.

And then he reads the text, entirely in French, and Duke did not have a thing for voices or multilingualism before this, but he sure does now.

“Qu’est-ce que vous faites dans la vie, vous?” Danny reads, reaching the end of the first page. The syllables come to his easily, his French smooth and steady. “J’apprends des choses, dit Colin.” His eyes dart up, off the page, and fix Duke in place. “Et j’aime Chloé.”

Duke has never been happier that he doesn’t blush so visibly with his dark skin because he feels downright romanced. It’s a mix of the French, of Danny’s addictive voice, of their closeness, of how intimate this dark corner of the room feels, tucked away from the rest of the class.

“We can work on the other pages after we finish translating this one,” Danny says, leaning back at bit. 

Duke nods, swallowing to chase away the dryness of his throat. “Sounds like a plan!” 

They work in silence for the rest of the class period, and once the bell rings, Danny says, “I’ll wait for you by the bus stop down the street,” before he slips out of reach and disappears into the throng of students heading to their last class. 

He’s beginning to think that he’s in way over his head. Duke can handle being in the middle of all the action, risking his life, fighting for others. He can handle staring down rogues and criminals and Gnomon. He can’t handle feelings and romance and other such things. Those are much scarier than a criminal shooting at him. At least with the criminal, he knows what to do and doesn’t just freeze up like he did with Danny.

The school day ends faster than he’s prepared for. As promised, Danny waits for him by the bus stop down the street, where other students are also waiting. 

They don’t wait for a bus, though. Danny just meets his eyes and begins walking away, leaving Duke to follow after him, matching his pace so they can walk side by side.

The shadows in the alleyway seem to reach towards them as they walk down it. Something about it doesn’t feel right, so Duke tries to quietly use his powers and force them back. 

He only has time to think, Oh, that was a bad idea, before Danny is shoving him against the wall, getting them both out of the way as a shadow solidifies and lashes out at them. He’s kept in place by strong hands on his chest, and Danny’s eyes are glowing lightly as he hisses at the shadows, making them rear back and settle down once more. 

As if given permission to reveal themselves, more shadowy figures and strange movements in the shadows emerge, surrounding them. 

“Danny, I don’t mean to alarm you, but—”

“I know,” Danny says. “I thought you might be able to see them too. Which is not good.”

“Sorry, man, it’s not like I can turn it off.”

“It’s fine. Just be more careful. They like me because I’m like them, but you just register as a threat. Either that, or prey.”

“Great,” Duke replies weakly, “Those are my favorite things to be. Are we… are we safe to move?”

Slowly, Danny steps back, no longer pressed right against Duke. Nothing moves to attack him, but it might be due to the glare fixed on Danny’s face, eyes still glowing.

“They’ll leave me alone, so…” He reaches a hand out, looking away. The hoodie isn’t able to hide the way his cheeks go red. “Don’t let go and we’ll be fine.”

“I hope this isn’t to lead me to my doom,” Duke jokes nervously as he accepts Danny’s hand, holding it tightly. 

Danny wiggles his fingers, making him loosen his grip, and then their fingers are lacing together. Duke stares down at their hands, wide eyed, and hopes he doesn’t look as flustered as he feels. 

“Not to your doom,” Danny reassures. “Just a coffee shop I thought you’d like.”

“Well, then, lead the way!”

“Allons-y,” Danny replies. 

Stealing glances at him as they walk, ghostly figure and shadow shrinking away from them, all Duke can think is that he doesn’t need to worry about Danny being evil. His immediate instinct to protect Duke has proved that. He’ll keep the investigation going, though, to make sure Danny is safe from others that could hurt him. 

Strange and unsettling as he may be, Danny’s also a smart, kind person who deserves more.

Duke is determined to make sure he gets it.

And if he gets a crush along the way, that’s his business and his business only. 

It looks like Step Two: Befriend Danny is finally complete. He’ll figure out the other steps later. For now, he has an evening of French in a coffee shop to look forward to.

#ghostlights #dc x dp #dp x dc #dcxdp #dpxdc #dc x dp fic #prompt fill #my writing #im glad youre enjoying my ghostlights fics so much!!! im having a blast writing them #thank u for giving me more propaganda to spread for the ghostlights agenda <3 #this could easily continue into a much larger fic that goes into danny relocating to gotham for his protection #and start mixing in dc's spirit world with danny phantom's ghost zone/infinite realms #its kinda two stories in one tbh #1: danny trying to protect his kind classmate from ghosts and gotham spirits leading to supernatural shenanigans #2: duke trying to protect this clearly hurt and lonely person which leads to getting him accidentally roped into superhero shenanigans #both are the protagonists of a ya novel where they stumble into a secret for the sake of protecting one person #idk if im getting that across well but if u know the vibes then u know what im talking abt

[stealingyourbones]

#bones submissions #prompt art #written by: #gremlin-bot #thank you for the meme grem love u <3 #i made that drawing in sixth grade and had NO idea they kept it #they sent it to me for my birthday as a keepsake from their house and #i felt like I was dreaming when I took this out of the box

[kveom]

@svtsource carat revival 2024: Picking Favourites and Fights

↳ Bias: DK | insp.

#seventeen #svt #caratrevival24 #dokyeom #dk #seokmin #i tried #yayayayayayayay look at me go!! #i now have (almost) 3 sets for the prompts 😭 where is this motivation coming from #and i finished this one in just oneeee!!!!!! day!!!!! #thank u carat revival 😫 #i didn't really know where i was going with this set but i've wanted to use that set as insp for so long #so i knew i wanted to do that #and then i'm always ALWAYS thinking about that dk quote #and then have also been thinking of doing a dk as tumblr tags set but it's hard bc freaking tumblr #only gives you like 5 tags from old sets now #stuff you tumblr #so yeah it's kind of just a mix of all my ideas and thoughts lol #i think it turned out alright!! #almost didn't get there because of the colouring but hey just chuck on a b&w gradient and it's all good

[gianttol]

♡ GT July 2023 Prompt List ♡

Big thanks to @pocket-ozwynn for helping with the prompts!

#someone asked for the prompt list early so im postin them reeeeeal early! I will reblog and reblog again closer to the month #also thank you anon that sent some prompts! i did see it and I hope some of these line up with the ones you mentioned #^u^ #gtjuly #gtjuly2023 #thoughts on the design this time?? i think it looks fresh :3 #g/t #giant/tiny #giant tiny #gt

[puhpandas]

So for a writing prompt,

Vanessa meeting an ex gf/bf (whatever u want) at a supermarket. While Gregory and Freddy just listen to the tea or have shenanigans around the supermarket.

Ghosted

(915 words)

"Can I have some gushers?"

Vanessa clicks her tongue. "You already have captain crunch in the buggie."

Gregory frowns, and looks longingly at the the package when they pass the shelf it's on. "But..."

Vanessa rolls her eyes. "Why dont you get some broccoli or something? Brussel sprouts?"

Gregory pauses, and gives her a long, hard stare.

"Alright then." She says simply. "Shouldnt you want to eat healthily? You didnt exactly have a very good diet on the streets."

"Isnt that exactly why I should get to have the gushers?" Gregory counters when Vanessa picks off some tortilla chips and cheese dip off of the shelf. "I deserve them!"

Vanessa sighs, and turns to see Gregory using his unnaturally big eyes to his advantage.

"Surely Gregory should be able to have a special treat or two, Vanessa." Freddy says from behind Gregory, muffled by his backpack.

Vanessa sputters. "You're on his side?"

Freddy hums. "I just think that Gregory has a point, that is all."

Vanessa rolls her eyes, and turns the buggie back around with a sigh. "Shouldn't you of all people be advocating for eating your veggies?" She points out.

"Eating some sugary gummies does not equal not eating your vegetables, Vanessa. As long as you keep a balanced diet, indulging in unhealthy snacks is no issue--"

"Yeah, yeah." She cuts him off, and rolls the buggie to a stop in front of some fruit snacks.

"You can have some fruit gummies." She says, and points at a two-pack box of Welch's fruit snacks. "Not the gushers. You can have those next time, when you haven't already picked out an unhealthy snack."

Gregory huffs, but he takes the box anyway and puts it in the buggie.

"Better than nothing." Gregory says, then smiles. "Thanks."

Vanessa smiles back, and leans on the buggie. At least those are healthier than sugary fruit gushers. And Gregory seems happy. Maybe she isnt so crap at this.

The pleasant moment is cut off by a familiar voice behind her.

"Vanessa?" A woman asks, and Vanessa jumps, turning around. "Is that you?"

Oh. Vanessa thinks when she realizes who it is. Oh, no.

"So it really is you." Olivia says, voice unimpressed. "You really had me worried, Vanessa, I mean, what was I supposed to think?"

Gregory is silent beside her, watching the exchange with wide eyes. Vanessa sputters, avoiding eye contact.

"I-- Um-- Listen Olivia I--"

"Dont." Olivia says. "I dont want an apology. I just wish that you would have just told me you weren't interested instead of ghosting me."

Gregory makes a face beside her, eyes wide and mouth open in a small O, and he looks way too into it.

"I--" Vanessa tries, but she cuts herself off. 'I'm sorry, Olivia. I really was interested in you, but a crazy robot using the face of a decades old serial killer took over my mind and forced me to cut off any contact with all other people to complete his evil deeds!' Is what she wants to say, but being seen as a bitch seems like a better option than being seen as an insane freak.

So she just stays silent, and Olivia scoffs, looking insulted.

"Nothing to say to that, huh?" Olivia says, a sour look on her face. "Fine, see if I care. I just hope the next girl to start talking to you doesn't get far enough to be heartbroken like I was."

And with that, Olivia turns and walks briskly away, her brown hair flipping sassily over her shoulder and trailing behind her like a tailcoat.

Its completely silent except for the general milling about of people around them and beeps from self checkout scanners for a moment. Then, she finally tears her eyes away from the spot Olivia walked away from her and looks down when she sees movement.

Gregory looks like something hilarious just occured, and he looks up at her gleefully when she makes eye contact with him.

She rolls her eyes when he starts laughing, and she huffs, eyes dead set in front of her as she tries to push the buggie to get away from him.

"Who was that, Vanessa?" Freddy asks from behind Gregory, who's clumsily following behind her and almost bumping into people and their carts from how hard hes laughing. Vanessa tries not to let her mood sour too much.

"Olivia." She answers. "She was my..." She tries to find the right words. "...we were talking, and were about to start dating, but then..."

She trails off, and Freddy hums and looks at her sympathetically from Gregory's backpack. "I understand, Vanessa. You do not have to continue."

"That was awesome." Gregory finally refills his lungs after almost busting one laughing too hard at her relationship failure. "The drama. It was too good!"

"I'm glad you like my misery, brat." She says, rolling her eyes.

He just has another short burst of laughs, and then tries to quiet down. "I did like it. Very much. Why cant that happen <i>all</i> the time?"

"Because usually," Vanessa says. "I dont ghost people because I had my brain hijacked."

Gregory giggles. "Oh man, i knew people were obsessed with drama but i never knew it was this funny." He says, then tugs on Vanessa's shirt. "Hey, you gotta start a reality show with me soon, alright?"

Vanessa rolls her eyes, but she just ruffles Gregory's hair, and a small smile appears on her face.

"Sure, squirt. Whatever you say."

ao3 link

#i saw this prompt and was just like omfg nooo 😭😭 #such a funny idea thank u for the prompt #pandas writes #prompt #my fics #ficlet #3 star fam #vanessa #gregory #gregory and vanessa #fnaf #fnaf gregory #fnaf vanessa #glamrock freddy #long post #swearing #donut holes

[k0nstanta]

👔 for shurik!

👔 OC in what they would wear to a formal event (such as a wedding)

#askbox #character: shurik #setting: main #artist: cbge #thank u for the prompt :3

[simmyfrobby]

post for a hockey of your choice, please! i just want to see a nice poem 🫶🏻

— War of the Foxes, Richard Siken

#<3 <3 <3 <3 <3 #last poem for now but look!!!! #theyre holding hands!!!! #thank u for this prompt and also check out this poem #its v lovely #There are many loves but only one war. #evgeni malkin #pittsburgh penguins #hockey poems #sidney crosby

[ladytauria]

to celebrate hitting 50k i'm sharing a snippet of the longfic i'm currently working on <3 (thank you v much to both @deepwithintheabyss and @paprikadotmp4 for the encouragement & brainstorming help <3)

still untitled (i've been calling it the "aob dubcon fic" lmao) but i have written a summary:

Jason tries to sell off his first heat to make ends meet for the upcoming winter. When he’s taken by traffickers instead, he’s sure that’s the end of him—until he’s rescued by a mysterious alpha. That “rescue” comes with a price: Jason’s heat hits shortly after, and… one thing leads to another, and now Jason and Tim are bound together by a fledgling mate bond. It’s not the first time Jason’s had to make the best of things, but… he finds it a little bit easier this time, especially as he grows to genuinely like Tim. Unfortunately, just as they're starting to settle into mated life, Tim’s ex-pack starts getting involved, and they don’t exactly approve of Tim’s choice in mate—never mind that it wasn’t really a choice at all.

cws/tags for this snippet: reverse robins, aob dynamics, underage jason (15), first aid, medical inaccuracies (probably; i'm not a doctor, so i'm warning to be safe), hurt/comfort, touch starvation, anxiety, allusions to captivity related ptsd, self-deprecation, brief memories of non-consensual touching

editing to add: this snippet takes place in the 2nd half of chapter 2 <3 (& was originally the second scene for the fic lol)

i have also previously shared a snippet of the scene after this, when jason's heat hits, here.

Tim parks outside of an old apartment building. The brick facade is worn, cracked and peeling in places. Most of the windows are intact at least, though; two of them have lights on, the rest dark.

Tim gets out first, already having rounded the car by the time Jason is swinging his legs out. His hand rests on the door, waiting patiently for Jason to join him on the sidewalk. Then he shuts it. One hand rests on Jason’s back again, a gentle guide inside.

There’s a man at the desk near the front entrance, reading a newspaper. He spares them a brief, bored glance before going back to it.

There’s an out of order sign on the elevator, so they have to take the stairs. It’s just two flights, but by the end, Jason’s slightly out of breath. He’d thought he was in pretty good shape, but—

He guesses spending nearly a week in a small, windowless room hasn’t done him any favors.

Tim stops at a door in the middle of the hall, unlocking it and letting Jason go in first. The main room is all one room; living room transitioning to kitchen, separated by an island counter. Tim guides Jason to the couch, directing him to sit while he gets the first aid kit.

The couch is worn but comfortable, cushions sinking under Jason’s weight, cradling him.

Tim disappears down the hall, and returns a few moments later holding the biggest first aid kit Jason has ever seen. Not that he’s really an expert on the things, but— The one at his house was pretty small.

And mostly empty, honestly.

The coffee table looks comically small under it. It makes Jason’s belly flip with nerves, remembering the feeling of latex covered hands on his body, spreading him open.

He bites his lip.

Tim doesn’t open it, though; instead, he slips into the kitchen. He comes back a moment later, holding a bottle of purple Gatorade. Then, he kneels in front of Jason. It’s—odd. Having an alpha kneel in front of him, voluntarily. Even though Jason knows he doesn’t exactly have any power here, the visual dissonance is—

Odd.

He offers up the bottle. It takes a moment for Jason’s hands to move, but he does take it. His fingers fumble with the cap; he flushed, embarrassed despite himself, but gets it open.

As soon as it touches his lips, his thirst hits him full force. He allows himself two large gulps to wet his throat, and then forces himself to slow down, sipping instead.

When he screws the cap back on, he finds Tim still there. Waiting. He twists his hands around the plastic nervously.

“Alright,” Tim says gently. “Other than the bruise on your side, and the rope burns… are you injured?”

Jason shakes his head, twisting the sleeves of the alpha’s jacket. “Nn-nn. Just some bruises,” he says softly. He pauses. “And, um. I did hit my head once. It still hurts, but— I’m not, like, dizzy or nothin’.”

Tim nods. “Alright,” he says. “I’d like to do a head injury evaluation anyway. I’ll just feel over your skull, and then use a penlight to evaluate your pupil dilation. I’ve got cream for the rope burns, and for the bruise—” Tim hesitates a moment, then continues, “I’ll need to check and make sure nothing is cracked, and there’s no internal bruising.” He pauses again. “As long as there’s nothing serious anywhere else… I have some painkillers you can take, when we eat.”

Jason takes a moment to absorb all of that, and then nods, tipping his head forward obediently.

There’s a part of him screaming at himself not to be so compliant. To kick and claw and scratch and bite and fight, the way he has been for the past week. But he’s— He’s so tired, and sore, and—

The alpha smells so good, and— The smiles he keeps giving Jason melt something inside of him. He wants to keep seeing them. Keep earning them.

Tomorrow that might scare him.

Tonight—

His eyes fall closed when Tim’s fingers slide into his curls. The touch is achingly gentle. It feels— It feels good. Nice. Jason can’t help but lean into it. He thinks Tim’s hands linger a little longer than they need to, like he’s indulging Jason’s obvious enjoyment of the touch.

He does pull away eventually. Jason bites back his whine, instead sitting back up against the cushions.

“No bumps,” Tim murmurs. He gets out the penlight next, and cups Jason’s face as he shines a light first in one eye, and then the other. Jason grimaces, hissing a little as he squints. The light aggravates his aching head. “Pupil dilation is normal.” He pockets the light, and strokes Jason’s cheek with his thumb before he pulls away. “Now, I need to check your bruises.”

Jason bites his lip again. The constant worrying is starting to make the top layer of skin break and flake under his teeth. He averts his eyes, rolling the sleeves of the suit jacket up, exposing his hands. Then he pulls his shirt up, bunching it up just beneath his breasts.

His stomach jumps when Tim touches him. Tim pauses, hand hesitating, just barely touching Jason’s skin, and then— He starts to rumble, low and deep.

Jason whines. He doesn’t mean to—but it bursts from him; he can’t stop it, can’t muffle it. It’s a soft, helpless little keen, and the alpha’s rumble gets louder in response. He scoots closer, until he’s between Jason’s knees. His hand settles onto Jason’s skin, curving around his side. His other hand comes to cup Jason’s shoulder, thumb rubbing gentle circles through his clothes.

“It’s alright,” he soothes, the rumble deepening his voice. The sound—

Jason has only vague memories of his father rumbling for him, from when he was much, much smaller. Before working as a henchman had stolen much of his father’s good will. Other than that, Jason has only ever heard alphas rumble on TV. It’s—

It’s a really nice sound.

Against his will, tears fill his eyes, and he raises his hand, pressing his palm over one, like he can force them back inside. Tim’s hand settles against his side, just underneath the bruising. “You’re alright,” the alpha murmurs. “It’s okay to cry, pup.”

Jason sniffs, loud in the quiet. “I—I—”

“Shh, puppy.” Tim’s hand doesn’t leave Jason as he rises, slipping onto the couch beside him. His other hand cups the back of Jason’s head, tugging him forward—Jason’s arms come up automatically, wrapping around Tim’s neck, his shirt falling back over his abdomen. The alpha’s scent drips with comfort and the promise of protection and Jason—

He feels… He feels warm, and safe, and—

A sob rattles through his chest. Tim holds him closer, tighter, his arm winding around Jason’s waist. He buries his nose in Jason’s curls, stroking his skin with his thumb as he rocks him, slowly.

Jason’s chest heaves. His whole body shakes with each sob, so much that Jason is worried he’s going to shake himself apart. Tim’s steady hold feels like all that’s keeping him together.

It’s not just the last few days, it’s— It’s everything, since his Mom got sick and Dad turned to working as henchman and their lives just… fell apart. He’s— Jason’s been on his own for so long. Longer even than he’s been on the streets. Every day has been a fight for survival and Jason—

Honestly, he thought he’d finally lost.

Tim murmurs in his ear. Jason can’t hear a word of what he’s saying, but the tone is low and gentle, and Jason clings to it.

It takes a long time for Jason’s sobs to subside. Jason— He doesn’t know how long exactly. But he does know that when he’s done he feels exhausted. He slumps into Tim’s chest, tremors still running down his spine. His face is sticky. He definitely got snot all over Tim’s nice shirt, and that—

He’s too tired to even worry about Tim’s reaction.

Fingers comb through his hair again, lightly scritching his scalp. He lets out a soft sigh, slumping even more against the alpha’s chest.

Tim hums. He noses at Jason’s temple; a gentle nudge Jason grumbles at. “C’mon, pup,” he murmurs. “I still need to look at your bruises.”

Jason whines—the same plaintive little puppy whine he used to give his mom when he wasn’t ready to get up yet, for one reason or another. It makes Tim huff, amused; the humor reflected in his scent. It’s nice. Really nice.

He noses at Jason’s temple again. “Pup.” His voice is a little more stern. It’s not threatening, though—doesn’t even make Jason’s hackles raise. Tim is still rumbling. Close as they are, it feels like it’s seeping into Jason’s bones. It lessens the ache in him. His skin— His skin has been itchy for years, but. The creepy crawling of it has subsided, for now at least.

He’s comfortable. Jason doesn’t want to move.

He does anyway, sitting back with a scowl on his face. It makes Tim smile—his scowl deepens.

“I’ll be quick,” Tim promises.

Jason huffs a little. He leans back against the couch cushions. Tim’s hand is still under his shirt, sliding back over to the injured side as Jason lifts it. He feels— He feels more settled now. Less nervous, though butterflies still flutter between his ribs.

Jason watched Tim’s fingers probe gently around the bruising. The purple has started to fade to a greenish hue, but it still hurts when he prods it. Jason’s quiet, pained noises are soothed with soft rumbles and fingers rubbing his shoulders.

When he’s done, Tim’s hand lingers, laying casually on his waist. Jason’s skin would normally be prickling, but—

It isn’t.

It hasn’t this whole time, any time the alpha touched him.

“I don’t feel any cracks or breaks. Did— Were there any injuries to your back?” He’s no longer rumbling.

Jason misses it already. There’s a part of him that wants to snuggle up to him, see if he can’t coax that rumble back out.

He ignores it; instead shaking his head. “No. They— The, um, the boss said they were supposed to keep me as uninjured as possible. Any punishment had to be careful not to leave a mark.”

Tim hums. He strokes Jason’s skin with his thumb, and then slips his hand from Jason’s waist. It—

Jason finds that he misses it.

Tim leans forward, finally opening the first aid kit. It’s stocked, full of things Jason has names for and things he doesn’t. Tim takes out two things: the first, a small jar, and the second, a bottle of puppy’s Tylenol. Jason—he doesn’t like it, but he can’t really argue with it. Not at his size and weight and everything. They’re pills, at least, and chewable too,

Jason examines them carefully before he takes them, washing away the chalky flavor with the drink he’d been given before.

Tim unscrews the lid of the jar. The cream inside smells herbal, though not unpleasantly so. Jason holds out his arm, relaxing into the couch as the alpha works the cream into his skin.

It’s easy to let his eyes fall half-lidded. Jason is warm and sleepy. The air is thick with protective alpha scent; it soothes his hind-brain, the part that is purely omega, purely pup and longing for the comfort and safety of pack.

A small voice in the back of his mind is screaming, telling him he needs to keep his guard up.

It’s easy to ignore like this. To focus on nothing but gentle hands on his skin and the ambient noise around him; the hum of electricity and the distant noise of outside traffic.

Jason drifts.

He barely registers when the alpha switches arms, coming back up only to croon confusedly when Tim stops touching him. He blinks up at him, and gets a kind smile in return.

“Hush, pup,” the alpha soothes. “I’m going to get us something to eat.”

Jason blinks slowly at him and hums in acknowledgment. Tim gets a blanket from—somewhere, and lays it over him. It’s soft. Jason likes it. He nuzzles into it, into more of the alpha’s scent, and sighs.

He can hear Tim moving around in the kitchen—the clatter of dishware and pans, the bubbling of boiling liquid, the sound of his soft footsteps. He can smell something savory—chicken, he thinks, and garlic.

He drifts again, stirring only when Tim nudges him gently. A steaming bowl of soup is pressed into his hands.

“It’s hot,” Tim warns, a bit unnecessarily.

Jason still burns his tongue on the first mouthful. He doesn’t care. Having the food in front of him has made him realize how ravenous he is. His bowl is empty far too soon, though he’s too stuffed to go back for seconds.

His empty bowl is taken from him, and then Tim returns again. “C’mon, pup,” he murmurs. “I’ve got a spare toothbrush you can use. A spare den, too. I’ll get you some nesting materials and pajamas while you brush your teeth.”

Jason reluctantly leaves the couch and blanket behind, shuffling down the hall and into the bathroom. Tim procures a toothbrush for him, and then leaves.

It’s a relief to brush his teeth.

His captors had done it for him, so rough his gums had bled and ached. They still bleed under Jason’s gentle ministrations, but at least it doesn’t hurt. By the time he’s rinsing his mouth, Tim has returned, a bundle in his arms. He offers it to Jason.

“Clothes,” he says, a little unnecessarily.

Jason takes them, and Tim leaves again, giving him privacy. Jason goes to shut the door and then—

Hesitates.

He doesn’t want it open. But— He doesn’t…

What if he shuts it, and it won’t open again?

He’s. He’s being silly.

There’s no way this apartment has more than one bathroom. Trapping Jason inside here would be dumb, and he doesn’t think this alpha is dumb.

Jason takes a deep breath. He shuts the door.

Except—

He doesn’t. The latch hits the frame and Jason stops. His heart thunders in his ears. His breaths come sharper, quicker. He can’t. He can’t, he can’t, he can’t.

Tears burn in his eyes.

It’s not fair.

He rests his head against the frame; one hand cradling the bundle of clothes to his chest, the other gripping the doorknob.

God. He’s so fucking pathetic.

He shudders. Takes a deep breath. It shakes on his exhale, a tremor in his chest. It’s fine. He doesn’t have to shut it all the way. He can leave it like this, with the metal latch over the door frame, only the tiniest sliver of hallway visible.

It’s fine.

He’s fine.

Jason strips quickly, clothes falling into a puddle at his feet. He yanks on the pants the alpha provided. They’re a little short at the ankle, and he has to draw the drawstrings all the way out for them to stay up, but. They fit well enough.

The shirt, too, is a little big, hanging off slightly at one shoulder. It doesn’t show his breasts, and hangs down to his mid-thigh, so Jason doesn’t mind.. Both pants and tee are soft on his skin, not scratching like the other set did.

There’s a hamper. Jason drops his old clothes in, though he’d much rather see them in a dumpster somewhere. The jacket—

Jason hadn’t realized how much it had been comforting him until now. Without it, he feels almost naked. Exposed. He wants to put it back on again. He resists the urge, though. Instead, he straightens it as best he can, then folds it in half and lays it on top of the hamper before he exits the bathroom.

Tim isn’t in the living room any more, and Jason stands, nibbling on his lip. Maybe he should go for the door… but. He can’t bring himself to. Instead he stands there, uselessly, until he hears rustling further down the hall.

He approaches tentatively, and finds Tim in the den at the end of the hall.

Tim glances up when he hears Jason approach, and smiles a little. “I was just getting out some nesting materials,” he says, gesturing.

In front of him is a cushioned nest base, held off the ground by a wooden frame. Piled on top of it is—

Jason had been expecting maybe a couple of blankets and some pillows, but—

The blankets are piled tall; the one on top Jason recognizes as the blanket he’d been using on the couch. There are plenty of pillows, too—and padding, for added layers, and cushions, and, it’s… It’s a lot.

Jason’s throat feels a little tight. “Thanks,” he says, voice small.

“Of course, pup,” Tim says gently. He’s pulled his scent in tight now, but when he draws nearer, Jason catches a whiff of safehere and everythingsokay drifting off of him. His hand moves slow enough it would be easy for Jason to avoid it, but. He stays still, letting the alpha brush his knuckles over his cheek.

“Goodnight, pup,” he murmurs. “If you need me, I’ll be just down the hall.”

Jason nods. The alpha’s hand drops, and then he leaves.

The rest of the den… It’s not bare, but it lacks a personal touch. There’s a chest of drawers in the corner closest to the closet; a nightstand by the nest; and curtains hanging over the window. He shuffles further in, leaving the door open behind him.

He leaves the nest alone for now. Instead—

He goes for the closet first, opening the door. It’s bare inside, except for a thin layer of dust. Jason shuts it again. He opens the drawers, as quietly as he can. Empty as well. The den smells— Not stale, it’s definitely been used before, but. He catches the barest hints of alpha scent, and other than that… It just smells clean.

Jason rubs at his eyes.

No more putting it off.

As much as he doesn’t want to… Jason doesn’t shut the door all the way. Instead, just like in the bathroom, he leaves it open the tiniest sliver. Anything more, and he won’t be able to sleep. Anything less—

Panic.

Even the thought makes his heart race.

Jason rubs his face. He hates this. He hates it so much. Fuck. Sometimes it feels like life is just out to get him. Like—someone or something out there wants him to suffer.

Stop it. Plenty of people have it worse than you do, he scolds himself. He’s safe right now, or— He has the illusion of safety, at least. The alpha is being nice. Jason is— He’s not bound up. The door isn’t locked. There are no bars on the window. Tim treated his injuries. Held him when he cried. Gave him food and something to drink and soft clothes.

And he’d given Jason plenty of material to make a nice, comfortable nest to den in. One that might finally satisfy the instincts that have been screaming at him.

Jason takes a breath, and pads over to the nest. The sheer amount of material before him is almost overwhelming, but… He goes through it slowly. He starts with the padding, layering it into the nest base and using the cushions to help give it shape. He tests it as he goes, until he has something that’s plush, but not so much that it will engulf him. He works a nest cover over it. It’s a bit of a struggle to get it on, but Jason manages; only a little winded by the end. What padding and cushions he didn’t use—

He decides to put them in the closet, where they’ll be out of the way.

Blankets next.

Jason sorts through the pile slowly, rubbing each on his cheek. Scenting them. The one he used on the couch is the strongest scented; still thick with the contentment he’d felt in the alpha’s arms, and the protective, comforting scent Tim had drenched the air with.

He ends up using a little over half of the blankets Tim provided. The rest he puts in the closet.

Pillows—

Jason doesn’t use as many of them. He ends up putting most of them in the closet. And then, finally—

His nest is done.

He stands back, surveying his handiwork. He trills with pride, running his hand over the edge. His nest is soft. Cozy. It needs— It needs books. And— His fox. He misses his fox, the one his mom gave him. He kept it— He managed to keep it safe, all this time.

It’s probably gone now. Or ruined.

His eyes sting, and he swipes at them roughly.

Jason is so tired of crying.

He climbs into bed, pulling the blankets over and around him, snuggling down into the pillows. It feels—

Safe.

There’s something missing, though. Jason— He’s not sure what it is, but—

He’ll worry about it in the morning.

#jaytim #timjay #tauriawritesfanfic #aob dubcon fic #i'm so tempted to start posting even tho i usually prefer to wait till its done #ive broken everything into chapters; have a list of tags; wrote a summary... #i do not. have a fucking title tho #most of my titles were brainstormed for the 15k version!! which. hm. i *could* post that separately maybe...? #smth to think about #a n y w a y #hope u enjoy <333 #as soon as this fic lets go of the chokehold it has on me i'll get back to like #prompts & the other wips languishing in my docs #(and when i say chokehold i mean i started writing this around like... december 20th?) #(and you can thank abyss for THAT too bc this all spiraled from 8k of a genfic i showed them <3)

[simcardiac-arrested]

Draw your mike more. I love the art style. It gives ghost and pals energy. draw more please.

trust me man i’m trying but i do notttt have ideas

#mike with bisexual lighting flashlight. i guess #i do have one prompt in my inbox but it’s about mike and his siblings. so it’d require drawing 3 characters on one canvas #which is my biggest weakness. which is why i havent drawn it yet #but yea i do need to draw mike more i just dunno in which scenarios really #ALSO THANK U i am glad you like my design #it’s cool that it gives ghost and pals vibes i rly enjoy their music #cramswering #myart #michael afton #fnaf #five nights at freddy's

[tendaysoftenzo]

TEN DAYS OF TENZO: TENZOVEMBER EDITION (TWENTY-TWENTY-TREE) 

Once again, we've been so grateful for the beautiful submissions featuring our favourite helper. We're back again for 2023!

We invite you all to share your fantastic Tenzo (aka Yamato) content from November 1st to 10th, 2023. There are prompts for each day, but if you think of something else for Tenzo and want to share it, the more the merrier! Hosted by @keepyourpantsongohan, @sloaners and @ohayohimawari.

(Art above courtesy of the wonderful @sloaners, planet by CONG on pngtree.)

Submission

All content formats are welcome! Art, fic, graphics, podcasts, AMVs, an interpretive dance shown through claymation. As long as it fits the vibe, go for it! Tag @tendaysoftenzo and use ‘#tendaysoftenzo’ as one of your first five tags on tumblr if you’d like us to see and share your work.

Prompts

Day 1, November 1st: Yamato's Ghost Stories | O Captain My Captain

Day 2, November 2nd: Hidden in the Leaves | Jurassic Bark

Day 3, November 3rd: Tenzo's No Good Very Bad Hair Day | E.T.T. (Extra Terrestrial Tenzo)

Day 4, November 4th: Tenzo of the Kingdom | Festivals

Day 5, November 5th: Kakashi | Tree-Hugger

Day 6, November 6th: (Not) My Circus, (Not) My Genin | Roots

Day 7, November 7th: Flour Power (Tenzo's Cookbook) | Nuts

Day 8, November 8th: That 90s Tenzo (Decades AU) | Babygirl

Day 9, November 9th: Tenzo's Med Ninja Check-Up | Naps

Day 10, November 10th: Tenzo’s Quarter Birthday* | Free Day

(*What’s a quarter birthday? Since we’re hosting this event in the fall, we are celebrating Tenzo’s birthday three months later! Like a half-birthday, but sillier.)

For more notes about prompts/submissions, please check our FAQ.

Rules

Both gen and pairing content are cool! Keep it reasonable and healthy.

Reader/self-inserts are not generally in the spirit of this character-focused event. 

NSFW entries are allowed, provided they are clearly marked and under a cut. It goes without saying, but you must be 18+ if you are submitting NSFW content! Add warnings to any entry where necessary. Crop images and link externally as needed.

We won’t be accepting adult/minor or sensei/student romance of any kind, including ones where the characters are aged up. Depictions of rape/dub-con, incest, or explicit underage are not permitted and will not be considered as submissions. As always, we want to keep this event as inclusive of everyone’s comfort zones as possible. In the spirit of that, we hope you will create works that celebrate Tenzo!

If you have any questions, feel free to send us an ask! Have fun creating!

#yamato #tenzo #tenzou #tendaysoftenzo #ten days of tenzo #naruto events #announcements #art by sloane #planet by CONG on pngtree #thank u to everyone who submitted prompts! <3 #and to everyone who was asking for more tdot #a big tree hug sent ur way #mod gohan

[fiovske]

Hi! If you’re accepting requests for the unusual palettes challenge, could I request something Beaujes (maybe a sparring match?) in the “evil” palette?

(also, love your art! your blog is where I go to scroll through when it is Real Missing Beaujes Hours 😅)

could not adhere to colour palette bc i forget abt everything when i am drawing them but I hope this is to your liking <3

#beaujester #beaujes #thank u sm for the prompt! drawing them makes my heart sing #and thank u SO MUCH for liking my art <33 means the world to me <3 #fiovske draws

[khaotunq]

a little top flop for ur dashboards ♥ mostly for @sollucets because it's their fault

#tuserrowan #only friends the series #ofts #rowan in no way prompted this but #i've been feeling like absolute garbage this week and #in the midst of hating myself creatively i remembered rowan's reaction to this moment #and i laughed my way to photoshop #so here i am plaguing their tag <3 #anyway. #no but seriously #ouch??? #going back to being self destructive in my void now thank u #ofs top #my gifs #mine: only friends #mine: top #it makes me giggle too much to not put in my gifs tag i guess

[astrobei]

hi suni astrobi my beloved dear suni ❤️🫂

sending you a valentine's day prompt because i can annnnnd.

i challenge you to write miwi bc i need more miwi in my life. you can do whatever you want with this, but i want to see little baby will making a valentine's day card for his best friend, mike. bonus points if it has like paladin mike and dragons and all that other good ole fashioned dnd goodness.

hi andi andiwriteordie my beloved dear andi <3 happy valentine's day !! as a special present for you, here is my first ever attempt at writing miwi :^)

On Sunday night, Will’s mom brings home a bag of candy.

This, obviously, grabs his attention before anything else– brightly packaged somethings that crinkle loudly when his mom puts the bag down on the kitchen table. He can see them peeking out through the thin white plastic of the Melvald’s bag, and immediately perks up.

“What are those?” he asks, because it’s not rare for his mom to bring stuff back from work– especially on late nights like this, when she knows that Jonathan is busy with homework and no one’s had a chance to cook dinner, not when she’s been out all day and his dad is– well. His dad sure isn’t about to cook dinner, and Will has learned how to heat stuff up in the microwave but they’re currently out of everything that he can stick in a microwave. Will expects her to whip out a couple of TV dinners, and he kind of hopes she will, because it’s late and he’s hungry.

He peers over the long end of the table, trying to catch a glimpse, because the TV dinners don’t usually look like this– all pink and red and crinkly. His mom laughs, then holds the bag open by the handles so he can look inside. “Candy,” she says, “for your class Valentine’s Day party tomorrow.”

Will stopped listening after the word candy. He doesn’t know what Valentine’s Day is, and he doesn’t really care, because the bag is full of the brightly wrapped candies and chocolates that he saw in the store the other day when his mom took him inside. “Whoa,” he breathes out, and reaches out to stick a hand into the bag, even if just to make sure that what he’s seeing is real. A whole bag, full of candy. The wrappers crinkle some more, loud under his palm, and he pulls out a heart-shaped lollipop, flat and an almost aggressive shade of red. “Is this for us?”

“Oh, no way,” his mom laughs some more. “This much candy? All your teeth are going to fall out.”

Will grins. “My teeth are already falling out,” he says, pointing to where he’d lost his first one just a couple of weeks ago. He’s still not used to it, the strange space in his mouth where there didn’t use to be one before. He sticks the tip of his tongue into the gap there, and his mom rolls her eyes good-naturedly.

“Maybe that’s because of all the candy you ate at Halloween,” she says, and leans over to ruffle his hair. “It’s not good for you!”

“Danny in my class already lost three teeth,” Will mopes, “and he got three dollars from the tooth fairy, so maybe if mine fall out too–”

“The tooth fairy will refuse to give you money because you let your teeth rot on purpose,” Joyce says, and Will slumps into the chair next to her, pouting. “It goes against the tooth fairy laws.”

Will might only be six, but he knows that there’s no such thing as tooth fairy laws. There can’t be rules just for one person. That’s ridiculous. He tucks the lollipop from earlier into his pocket before his mom can see, though. Just in case. “What’s the candy for?”

“It’s Valentine’s Day tomorrow,” his mom says, walking over to the kitchen and opening the fridge door. “Your class is having a party, and these are for your friends.”

Will frowns. “What’s– Valentine’s Day?”

“It’s a holiday about celebrating the people you love.” Joyce emerges with a loaf of bread and a few slices of cheese. “Grilled cheese okay for dinner?”

They’ve had grilled cheese for about four days in a row now, but Will doesn’t mind. His mom makes them perfect. He nods. “Yeah!” 

“You have to eat the crusts this time,” she says. “Don’t think I didn’t see you throw them away last time.”

Shoot. So close.

“Fine,” Will agrees, then leans over to pluck another candy out of the bag. It’s pink this time. He thinks it might be strawberry-flavored. Will isn’t the biggest fan of strawberry, but candy is candy after all.

“I heard that,” his mom chides, back still turned to him, as the candy wrapper crinkles loudly under his fingers. “Put the candy back, Will.”

No! So close again. Will scowls at the traitorous sweet in his hand and tosses it back in the bag. “How did you even hear that?”

“I have superpowers, remember?” Joyce points to her ears and shoots him a wink. She’s probably right, Will thinks glumly. His mom has ears on the back of her head– or whatever it is they say.

“Why do my kids in my class get candy and I don’t?” 

“They’ll give you candy too,” Joyce assured him, flipping a sandwich over in the pan. “That’s the whole point! You trade candy and Valentine’s Day cards.”

Cards? “What kind of cards?”

“You can look in the bag. I picked some of those up on the way back from work.”

Will sticks his arm bag in the bag and shuffles it around, until soft cellophane gives way to the sharp edge of cardstock. He pulls one out– “Be mine,” he reads aloud, then wrinkles up his nose in confusion. “Huh?”

“Cheesy, huh?” Joyce slides a plate in front of him, and smiles. “Speaking of cheesy–”

Dinner! Will’s stomach rumbles, and in the face of a perfectly made grilled cheese sandwich, thoughts of Valentine’s Day slip instantly out of his mind. 

—

They don’t stay out for long, though.

“Jonathan?”

Jonathan’s room door is open, and he has his back to the door, but he turns around as Will peers through the doorway. “Oh. Hey, Will.”

Will shuffles his feet, hesitating. Is this a stupid question to ask? Surely Jonathan won’t think he’s stupid. Jonathan never thinks Will is stupid, even when Will asks dumb questions or says dumb things or acts super annoying. “What’s Valentine’s Day?” he blurts out.

Jonathan raises his eyebrows. “Huh?”

Maybe Jonathan doesn’t know. That’s a weird thought, though, because Jonathan knows everything. He’s in third grade now, which seems big and grown up and far away. It’s old enough for your grade to have an actual number. Not like kindergarten, which Jonathan says is, like, zero grade. “Valentine’s Day,” Will says again. Mom had been so vague about it, and he’s still not sure what’s up with the lovey-dovey stuff. Maybe Jonathan can help. “What is it?”

“Um,” Jonathan says. “It’s– the holiday of love, I guess?”

Oh. That’s lame. “Ew,” Will says, making a face. “That’s gross.”

“Tell me about it,” Jonathan sighs. “Why are you asking?”

“I have to celebrate with my class tomorrow,” Will sighs. “And mom got candy but I’m not allowed to eat any.”

Jonathan makes a sympathetic noise. “Lame.”

“I know!” Will exclaims. “And I don’t even– love anybody. Gross.”

“Well,” Jonathan says thoughtfully, “it doesn’t have to be love love. It can be, um. Any kind of special somebody.”

“Special somebody?” That’s a weird thing to call someone. “Huh?”

“You know. Is there someone special to you? Someone you really like?”

Will likes a lot of people. His teacher is really nice. He likes mom’s boss at the store, because sometimes he lets Will pick out a piece of candy from the display. He likes Jonathan, and he likes his mom, of course. But people who are special–

“Mike,” Will decides immediately. It’s an obvious choice, because Will hadn’t ever had best friends before Mike came into his life earlier this year. They do everything together– playing at recess, eating lunch, sleeping over at each other’s house. The other kids in the class even talk about them like they’re one person– MikeandWill– which makes Will smile. It’s nice to feel like he’s a part of something. Mike is special. Mike makes him feel special.

Something funny happens to Jonathan’s face, super fast, and then it goes back to normal. “There you go,” he says, then nods. “You can make something for Mike.”

“Like what?”

“Um, I don’t know. Draw him a card?”

“Mom already bought cards,” Will sighs.

“Make him a special one,” Jonathan shrugs. “Because he’s– um. Your special somebody.”

Will grins, wide enough that he knows his missing tooth gap is showing. Sue him. He thinks it’s cool, even if Jonathan has, like, five of them and doesn’t care. “Thanks, Jonathan!”

“Uh, yeah!” Jonathan sounds a little confused as he calls after him, but Will is already on his way to his own room. “You’re welcome!”

When Will gets back to his room, he pulls out his crayons and his paper, sits down at his desk, and–

He stops.

Oh no.

What is he supposed to put on a card? For Mike, especially, who’s one of the coolest people Will knows. What if he thinks it’s lame? What if he doesn’t want a card? What if whatever Will makes is so boring and awful that Mike laughs?

Will shakes his head. No, he thinks. Mike won’t laugh at him. Mike would never laugh at him, and that’s why he’s so special– everyone else laughs at Will, sometimes, about his clothes or his hair or the way he talks. But Mike doesn’t. Mike thinks he’s cool, and Mike thinks he’s fun, and Mike likes all the same stuff as he does– the kind of stuff that everyone else in their class thinks is lame but Mike doesn’t.

Will stares down at the blank sheet of colored paper. Blue, because Mike likes blue. And Will’s got a twenty-four pack of crayons and he doesn’t know what color to draw in, but everything else, the candies and the cards in mom’s bag, had been red or pink, so maybe Will should draw in red or pink too. And– everything else had, like, hearts on it, so maybe he can start there.

“For Mike,” Will says aloud, slowly and carefully, as he writes the words at the top of the paper. He’s pretty sure he spelled it right. He knows he’s got Mike’s name correct, at least. F-O-R. For. 

Yeah. That looks okay.

The heart is next. Will tries to make it big enough to take up most of the page, where the paper has been folded in half down the middle. It’s a little lumpy, but– yeah. You can totally tell it’s a heart.

Probably.

He opens the card to the inside, and pauses again. Great, he thinks, because what is he supposed to write on the inside? He’d already drawn a heart on the front, and it would probably be a little lame to draw another one on the inside.

“Think,” he groans out loud, putting the red crayon down and peering into the box. Half of them are broken, and some others are worn down to nubs, so it’s not even like he has a lot of options here.

What sort of stuff does Mike even like? Mostly the same stuff Will does, but then maybe that would be like Will is making a card for himself, and not for Mike. He looks at the paper some more, like maybe something will appear on it, fully-formed, if he stares long enough.

Nope. Nothing. 

Will sighs, and thinks harder.

Mike had liked that book they read in class last week– something about a knight rescuing a princess from a tower. Will hadn’t really been paying attention, because it was kind of boring and, like, sappy and about love, but Mike had been totally into it. Will had looked over during group reading time and his eyes had been huge and his jaw had been, like, on the floor. Will didn’t really get the appeal, because, again, it had been totally cheesy and sappy and gross. But Mike had found a stick at recess an hour later and brandished it like a sword, and Will had been too busy laughing to properly express how lame he thought the whole thing was.

It wasn’t lame when Mike did it, though. That’s why Mike is special– nothing’s lame when he does it.

Will picks up a crayon. He has an idea.

—

Don’t think it’s lame, Will prays, fighting every instinct in his body that’s telling him to squeeze his eyes shut and hold his breath. Please don’t think it’s lame.

Mike hasn’t said anything yet. Maybe he really does think it’s lame.

Will is starting to wish that maybe the asphalt of the playground could just open up and swallow him whole. Mike totally thinks it’s lame. Maybe Mike didn’t even want a card. Maybe Mike is weirded out. Maybe Mike–

“Did you really make this?”

Will blinks. Mike doesn’t sound weirded out. He sounds– impressed? Maybe?

“Um. Yes,” he says anyway. Mike’s eyes are wide where he’s staring at the card in front of him, and Will holds his breath after all– just a little– for one second, then two, then–

“Will!” Mike says, face breaking out into the biggest smile Will has literally ever seen him smile. “This is awesome!”

Oh, thank god. “Really?” Will can’t keep the relief out of his voice when he asks.

“Yeah!” Mike nods rapidly, never once taking his eyes off the paper. “This is awesome!”

“You already said that,” Will points out, but he’s smiling now too. “You really don’t think it’s lame?”

“No way!” Mike points at the crayon outline of a figure against the blue paper. “Is that me?”

“Duh,” Will says, pointing to where he had drawn an arrow and written Mike. Just in case there was any confusion. “It’s you as the knight. From the story.”

“I love the knight from the story,” Mike announces, and Will immediately feels like a million pounds of weight has been lifted off his shoulders. Thank god. 

“I know,” Will giggles. “You almost killed me with the stick you were waving around.”

Mike gasps. “Excuse you. It was a sword.”

“Sure,” Will says. “Okay. It was a sword.”

Mike looks like he’s going to say something else, and then he stops. He shakes his head. His voice is quieter now when he says, “You really made this for me?”

Will doesn’t know why they keep coming back to this. Obviously he made this for Mike. That’s why he’d labeled the drawing with his name. Mike. He’d meant for that to help, in case there was any confusion, but maybe he hadn’t labeled it well enough. Maybe two arrows next time. Or maybe he should add Mike’s last name, just in case Mike thought he made it for the other Mike in their class. “Duh,” he says again, because he isn’t sure what about this Mike isn’t understanding. “It’s for– Valentine’s Day.”

Mike goes a little pink. Will’s not sure why, because they’ve been sitting in one spot for all of recess so far, and Mike hasn’t been running around at all. “Really?”

“Jonathan said I should make a card for someone special.” Will tugs nervously at the zipper on his jacket. Why is he nervous? It’s only Mike. “And I think you’re special.”

Mike’s mouth drops open. He closes it, then opens it again, in an excellent imitation of their class goldfish Bubbles. “Really?”

Maybe Mike’s words just aren’t working today. Will feels like that a lot. He gets it. “Duh,” he says, for the third and hopefully final time. “You’re my best friend.”

“Wow,” Mike breathes out. “You’re an awesome artist, Will.”

“Really?”

Okay, maybe it’s Will’s turn for his brain to stop working. He’s not sure what’s so awesome about his drawing. You can barely even tell it’s Mike.

“Um, yeah,” Mike stares, like this is obvious or something. “You can totally tell it’s me! No one else in our class can draw this good. You should do it more. I think you could get, like, famous or something.”

Will doesn’t know about all that, but something warm and fuzzy is swelling up inside him anyway. Surprised and pleased at the praise. “Oh. Thanks, Mike.”

“I wish I made you something,” Mike says sadly, still staring down at the card, like he’s trying to absorb it with his eyes. “My mom just made me get the ones from the store for everyone.”

“It’s okay!” Will smiles. Really, he doesn’t need a card from Mike. He’s just happy Mike liked it.

“You can have my Reese’s,” Mike offers. He doesn’t fold the card up and put it in his pocket like Will thought he might, but holds it carefully in both hands and looks over at him, eyes wide. “Someone gave me one for our candy exchange, but I think you like them more than me.”

Will grins. “Okay!”

Mike hesitates, then suddenly, moves forward and throws his arms around Will’s shoulders. It’s sudden enough for Will to stumble backwards, a little caught off-guard by the puffy weight of Mike’s jacket and body against his. “Happy Valentine’s Day, Will,” Mike says. “You’re my best friend too.”

#oh this was so fun #unexpectedly hard but in the best way #i don't know how to write little kids #i'm so scared of making them sound too baby #but hopefully !! this was good #thank u sm for this prompt andi it was so so so cute #happy valentine's day i love u much #mwah <3 #byler #mike wheeler #will byers #miwi #fun sized fics #fic #ok byebye #/astro posts

[leclvrc]

“you don’t know what you do to me.” + charles, please? i love your writing ♥️

You're in his motorhome after a race, pressed up against one of those flimsy walls as his hands make their way over your thighs all the way over your stomach. He loves touching you, loves tasting you but most of all he loves to see you arch into his eager hands.

It's easy too, giving in to his desire and yours when they align so well. Beyond the wall are mechanics, still high off of a well deserved win and the way Charles drove all the way through the field to claim the championship lead by the end of it. You're high off it too, off of the atmosphere and the way he sprayed you with champagne when you decided to join the team when they took photos and when his hand snuck its way to your hip and lower during one of those very photos you knew it would end with you and him in his motorhome.

Not like you'd ever complain about that. He's already got you stripped down to the underwear and that last piece of clothing quickly joins the rest before he turns you around, lips busily sucking a bruise into the back of your shoulder. The wall is cold to your front, makes your skin tingle pleasantly as you hear a zipper come undone.

You bite your lip, hoping to stave off some of the more embarrassing sounds from slipping off your tongue, but then there's one of his wide palms around your chin and two of his fingers in your mouth and that's probably the most effective of gags. You swirl your tongue around the soft pads of his fingers like they're something else and then hear him groan behind you.

"Fuck," he curses. Heat travels all the way up your neck at the tone in his voice and then he kisses his way over your shoulder and to your neck. Bites the shell of your ear softly. Your eyes flutter shut.

"You don't know what you do to me," Charles whispers into your ear, voice hushed. You swallow and then he pulls his fingers -- now slick and shiny with your spit -- out of your mouth. He trails them down your chest and between your legs and then he's slowly teasing your cunt with those very same clever fingers. They warm easily between your legs and by the time he pushes them in, you feel desire almost overwhelm you.

He's quick with his fingers, like he can't wait to fuck you but doesn't want to give you too much too quickly. The last of his concerns melt away when you push into the fingers he has in you and then he moans quietly as he pulls them out. You feel achingly empty already and so damn cold, but Charles is nothing if not considerate and a moment later, he plasters his bare chest against your back and then it's easy to part your legs further. Always easy for Charles.

He didn't take off his fireproofs completely, but you enjoy the feeling. The way the thick fabric chafes against your skin. Maybe they'll leave a trace of him behind beyond the kisses he bit into your shoulder. His tip teases over your slick entrance and you're just about to complain, mouth already fallen open around the words when he finally pushes in. He's quicker than he usually is, doesn't take the time he likes to take to make you really feel him, but it's pure bliss. There's no greater feeling than feeling him around you, in you.

Sometimes, you don't know how either of you ever gets anything done when you could spend all day like this. With him filling you up, snug and warm beneath his body. Fuck. The thought alone makes you shudder.

His thrusts are fast from the beginning. Real momentum behind every single one of them. The smell of sweat and sex lies in the air and the way your skin slaps against his makes the coil in your lower stomach tighten. One of your hands easily finds its way between your legs and to your clit and the added pressure there makes your legs weaken.

You could come so easily like this; with Charles at your back chasing release in your body and your hand between your legs. So, you do. But Charles doesn't stop. Instead, he holds you tightly by the hips and fucks you through your orgasm. Through the shudders and quiet moans resembling his name.

Your hand falls away from between your legs, but is soon replaced by his own and that's when you know that he's far from done with you. The thought makes a smile tug on your lips.

#f1 smut #charles leclerc fanfic #charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc x you #charles leclerc imagine #thank u sm hope u like it !!! #also i dont take any more requests but thanks to everyone that sent one <3 #**prompts #**mine

[fullmetalscullyy]

emma i would love to see u tackle royai and cooking for each other (or sharing in food). there's such a warmth and intimacy in making something for someone. it's whole purpose is to sustain life!!!

U R SO RIGHT. SO CORRECT.

so........ how about......... three wee royai moments where they're cooking together............. :)

here with me

read on ao3

summary: there was a reason // i collided into you // Roy and Riza cooking (providing for one another) throughout the years

rated: g | words: 2718 | tags: royai, cooking, young royai, post-canon, happy, childhood friends, sickfic, post promised day

Riza shuffled into the kitchen, following the smell of cooking, to find Roy standing over the hob, stirring something within a pot. And whatever it was, it smelled delicious. It was so flavoursome, it made her eyes water and caused her to break out into a coughing fit, announcing her presence.

And although it caused Roy to startle at the sudden, loud sound, he still grinned over at her.

He almost toppled off the chair onto the floor, in an endearing, hopeless, sort of way, but that was neither here nor there.

The reason he was currently kneeling on a chair though, was because he wasn’t quite tall enough to reach the hob to cook. Although in his teenage years, Roy’s growth spurt still hadn’t hit him yet (much to his dismay), so he’d taken a leaf out of Riza’s book and dragged a chair over from the table so he could see what he was doing. Bless his wee cotton socks too, because before Riza had interrupted and startled him, he’d looked so precious up there, his tongue peeking out from between his lips as his brow furrowed in concentration, eyes darting back and forth between the pot and the piece of handwritten paper beside it, which presumably detailed the recipe of whatever he was cooking.

Riza tightened the blanket around her shoulders and wrinkled her nose in response to the sneeze which was threatening her. “What are you doing?”

Roy beamed at her. “Cooking.” He answered as if it were the most normal thing in the world.

Her brow furrowed. “What?”

He shrugged. “You’re ill. It was the least I could do. Plus, I wanted to.”

“You wanted to.” She blinked at him, unable to comprehend what was happening.

Roy nodded in cheerful agreement, nonplussed about her surprise.

“Is there anything you need me to do?”

“Nope.” Roy even popped the ‘p’.

“Well. Let me help at least –” Riza reached forward to busy herself with assisting him, but Roy was having none of it.

“Ah. Ah!” He swatted at her playfully, brandishing his wooden spoon to keep her back and out of reach. “No. Go and sit down.”

Riza frowned. “Roy, no –”

“Riza, yes. Go and sit down. I’ll cook.”

Sensing she would get nowhere with him and too exhausted and shivery to argue she ambled over to sit at the kitchen table, like he directed.

Riza felt bad though, that he was doing all of this for her while she was ill. He was here to learn alchemy. He was a guest in her home. His family were paying her father to tutor him. And now he’d been left to cook for himself – and her – too? It was too much. Her ailing body failing her was no excuse, and yet, he would have none of her continued attempts to try and help him. Her offers were met with playfulness and patience, but a firm reply which said no. He could manage on his own.

Riza still didn’t feel safe enough to venture far from him and his cooking shenanigans though. He’d once shared how he’d almost burned his aunt’s house down when he cooked and Riza was still unsure if it was a joke or not.

So she watched him like a hawk while he chattered away. Probably to fill the silence, which made her feel even worse, because her ill brain could barely keep up with his train of thought and she felt as though she should offer him something, not just silence. But it was too much for her exhausted body and mind to comprehend.

It was… nice, though. To listen to him. To hear his voice. To hear his stories which he obviously enjoyed telling and sharing.

Secretly, Riza loved it.

It was nice to be doted on for once.

To be cared for.

They both sat down at the table together without incident a short time later. Her bowl of soup was presented to her with a flourish, complete with pristine presentation. One would have thought the young man was a professional cook.

Taking a cautious sip of her soup, Riza politely and gently ignored how Roy was waiting and watching for her reaction as she sampled his dish.

It was… good. Great, actually. Extremely tasty. She tried not to be too surprised at how good it was given how much he’d put himself down about his cooking abilities in the past, but this was delightful. Perfect for her sore throat, and delicious. Not too much for her tender stomach to put away either. It was just enough.

He’d created the perfect dish for her.

Riza swallowed it down and relished in how it soothed her aching throat. And immediately went back for another taste.

“Is it okay?”

Riza glanced up, noticing how nervous he looked, even as she almost started to devour and hoover up his homemade soup.

Still, her face flushed pink. “Yes,” she replied, not quite able to fully find her voice with his attention so directly upon her. It was because of her cold, for sure.

No other reason.

“It’s good. Very tasty.”

Her appraisal lit up his entire face. Roy sat up a little taller in his chair. His shoulders rolled back and his head perked up, but it was nothing compared to the pure joy which brightened his entire being, illuminating him from within.

“Good. I’m glad.” He looked extremely pleased with himself as he tucked into his own dinner.

*             *             *            *             *            *             *

“Riza?” Roy’s disembodied voice called out to her from the doorway to her home.

“In the kitchen.”

Roy entered the room a few seconds later, surprisingly. Riza hadn’t expected him to come straight through to see her. Snow still caked the edges of his boots and the shoulders of his thick winter coat, but he didn’t appear to be too bothered about it. Neither was she, honestly. A little water from melted snow would dry up quick enough, so it wasn’t a problem.

And when he did make his immediate appearance within the room, Roy was ruffling his hair to dislodge the snowflakes which had caught in his dark strands. And like always, Riza’s attention was drawn to him immediately.

As soon as he entered the room.

(It was really becoming a problem.)

Riza had turned to greet him, but the sight of him made her pause.

His hair was tousled, slightly wet from being out in the snow and curling at the ends due to the damp. Since he’d joined the military, he’d started to fill out within his own body with all the physical training they had him doing. His arms, which had been long and gangly as a teen, were now corded with muscle, same with his legs. And now, when he moved to dislodge those pesky snowflakes, his newly discovered biceps flexed. Quite nicely, too.

Not that Riza had been staring, of course.

Definitely not.

Nope.

Riza’s face flamed and she hastily turned back to the stove. “Did you get everything you needed?” She was grateful her voice remained steady as she spoke because on the inside it felt as if her entire being was quivering like a leaf, as it often did around her childhood friend nowadays.

A pesky new discovery, but one she would manage. Through sheer willpower alone.

Riza vowed she would not make Roy uncomfortable with the things which churned within her gut and her chest over him.

“Yep. I got a discount on the vegetables as well. I think the lady in the shop likes me,” Roy chuckled.

Riza felt her stomach twist and the bubbling, happy feeling which had been fizzing within her died.

Crumbled into ash.

“Oh?”

Riza buried it. Buried it deep and locked it down tight. Jealousy had no place here and she was too old, too mature, now, to even consider such a thing.

“Yeah. She was very sweet and kind.”

Roy was a friend. An old friend, who she loved dearly.

Nothing more.

Never mind the fact he’d called Riza and been on the first train back when he learned how her father’s health had taken a downturn. Riza had presumed it was to ask her father about flame alchemy while he still had the chance, but in response to voicing her assumptions to him, Roy’s gaze has hardened. His jaw had locked and he hadn’t looked happy about something. He’d even gone as far to leave the room and once he’d returned, a few hours later, he’d looked dejected, but resigned.

Riza still hadn’t figured out why he’d acted and looked that way. And their friendship felt slightly different because of it.

But perhaps it was simply Riza’s imagination.

“What’s wrong?”

Riza startled and suddenly, he was there. At her elbow. Roy even lifted a hand to grasp her elbow gently, initiating contact with his thumb and forefinger which made her stomach flutter with troublesome butterflies, as it always did.

“What do you mean?”

His eyes searched her face, his brow furrowed and face concerned. Riza just averted her gaze, turning back to dinner before Roy could see too much. Before he could figure anything out she’d rather keep hidden for the sake of their friendship.

Her one-sided affections were hers, and hers to deal with alone. She would not burden him with them.

“Huh.”

Riza didn’t dare look at him, but his sudden response confused her. “What?”

“Nothing.” Roy sounded so nonchalant, such a twist from how he’d looked just a moment ago, which brought Riza’s attention back to him. But Roy had already turned away and was walking over to the kitchen table to unpack his shopping bags.

Riza dropped it. She didn’t want to dwell for too long on what he’d meant by that innocent “nothing”. That sudden realisation which laced his tone.

Her poor heart had endured and suffered enough recently, and she didn’t want to add anymore pressure to it. She owed herself that much currently, at the very least.

Roy appeared by her elbow again, making Riza’s heart jump and stutter. “Is there anything you need me to do?”

“Um…” Her brain was scrambled. Disjointed after trying to make sense of what had just happened between them.

But Roy waited patiently for her brain to stop short circuiting and catch back up with the present.

“Actually… Yes. Would you mind mashing the potatoes?”

Roy beamed at her. “I would love nothing more, Riza,” he replied rather dramatically, equipped with a wink.

Her stomach tumbled again, but Riza forced her brain to reign it in. She reminded herself he was just being Roy. Playful and fun.

The complete opposite of her.

But… Riza was slowly learning. Thanks to him. Thanks to his influence.

She was grateful for that, at least.

Roy rolled up his sleeves, exposing his now toned forearms, and Riza quickly darted her gaze away, unable to linger on the sight for too long. She studied the stew within the pot before her as if her life depended upon it instead, ignoring the young man working methodically (muscles flexing and all) and humming quietly – while so at ease – by her side.

Side by side, they cooked. For each other. For themselves.

A small smile teased Riza’s lips at the domesticity of it all. It tugged at her heart strings. It brought her a sliver of dangerous hope. A childish vision of the future. It made her insides bunch up at the thought of him doing it with someone else… That lady in the shop perhaps, whoever she was…

Despite it all, Riza had never been happier in that moment.

Right now, he was here with her.

No one else.

That may be the case in the future – and that was okay. Riza could make peace with that, for his sake and his happiness. Her little, budding – but difficult – feelings for her friend would never be voiced or known.

And that was okay.

They’d disappear eventually, Riza was sure. If he found someone, it would be all right. Because in the end, Riza would still have him as a friend. She’d still have him in her life.

And that was enough.

She wasn’t brave enough to lose him.

(Just yet).

It would be too much for him to give up everything for her. Far too much. He had his goals and his dreams, and she was a quiet, lonesome man’s daughter. She had nothing at all to offer, but she could still be his friend. Throughout it all, without fail, she’d offer all the support she had for him to see everything he desired come to fruition.

Yeah…

That would be enough…

Riza supposed.

“Riza?”

“Hm?”

“For the record, the lady in the shop was in her seventies. Nothing to get jealous over.”

Riza whipped around and smacked him on the arm with carrot while he guffawed away to himself.

*             *             *            *             *            *             *

Riza knocked on the Colonel’s door. Hayate whined quietly by her side and sat in place patiently as he waited for his second favourite human to make an appearance.

It was adorable how he’d taken to him.

(Riza understood the feeling.)

“Lieutenant!” Roy’s smile was like a beacon in the dark. It transformed his entire face, and he perked up instantly as soon as he set eyes on her.

Again, Riza understood the feeling.

Intimately.

“Good evening, Colonel.”

He opened the door further and stepped aside, inviting them inside his home. “Come on in.”

Hayate was eager and was already tugging on the lead as he hurried towards the Colonel to jump around his shins.

He was a good dog. He never really bothered or pestered anyone – except her and Roy. As soon as he was around either of them, he begged for attention, eager for pets, and always wanted to be the centre of attention. Every time. He loved them both unconditionally and equally, it seemed.

Riza adored him for it.

Roy chuckled and crouched to pay attention to his adopted little dog while Riza walked inside and shed her coat. Ever the gentlemen, Roy raised from his crouch – much to Hayate’s vocal dismay – and offered to take her coat and hang it up.

“How are you today?”

Always asking after her. Always enquiring how she was doing.

“I’m fine, sir. And thank you for the invite. It was much appreciated, as always.” Riza turned to Hayate who was staring adoringly up at Roy. “Hayate missed you, so I’m sure he was grateful for the opportunity to visit.”

“Just Hayate?”

Riza narrowed her eyes at him, watching as his danced as a smile teased his lips.

“Yes,” she deadpanned.

Roy’s mouth parted in mock shock as he placed a hand upon his chest, over his heart, before breaking out into laughter.

He even stuck his tongue out at her.

Just like he did as a boy.

“Come in.” Roy gestured further into his home. “I know I promised a lovely, relaxing evening,” he winked, “but it seems I’m still having some trouble.”

Riza’s concern for him instantly flared as he lifted his hands, wiggling his fingers and inadvertently brandishing his scarred palms from the Promise Day.

“I could use a hand in the kitchen, if you wouldn’t mind, Lieutenant,” he smiled sheepishly. “I tried already… with disastrous results.”

Riza opened her mouth to reply, only to be halted by a different smile, one which spread across Roy’s face and softened his features entirely. “I thought we could cook together. Just like old times.”

His sweet, boyish smile transported her back through the years, to all the times they’d done this before.

A million times before.

Some of the happiest moments of Riza’s life.

And Riza’s heart tugged at the nostalgia of it all. At how he’d remembered she’d once quietly admitted it was one of her favourite memories of her childhood with him – when they’d worked and cooked together. Provided for themselves and one another. At its basest, given each other the gift of care and sustenance.

And he’d remembered.

Riza rolled up the sleeves of her cardigan. The Colonel’s eyes sparkled with delight at her acceptance.

“Is there anything you need me to do?”

Their age-old question to one another.

Something that was just theirs.

“Why yes, Riza, I do believe there is.”

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#royai #royai fic #royai fanfic #young royai #three wee moments as a thanks for the prompt <33333 #tysm MWAH it was the BEST prompt ILY #u brought me back to royai after my spur of the moment desire to write for them hehehe ur power <3 #emma writes #ask #tsaritsa