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ladylynse · 1 year

Note

Hey! How are you doing? Hope well! Still doing Trick or Treat? And Happy Belated Halloween!

One last one for you. *grins* Remember this (DP/Lucifer)?

Also on AO3

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“Contemplating the ways of the world?” Lucifer asked as he poured himself a drink, but the boy sitting at the bar merely slumped forward to lean on the bar top, resting his head on his folded arms and staring straight ahead.

He cleaned up well enough, Lucifer supposed, though it was a travesty what he was doing to the clothes he’d borrowed. The wrinkles in the shirt could be dealt with, but the pants would never be the same. Where had he even gotten the safety pins he was using to keep them turned up? The tailor was only a phone call away. It would have been much less troublesome for both of them if he’d simply agreed to a fitting.

(The clothes the boy had been wearing weren’t fit to be called rags. Lucifer planned to have them burned once the boy had gone through the pockets; there was nothing left to salvage of the things. Even Dan wouldn’t have touched the likes of them with a ten-foot pole.)

“This would be much easier if you’d talk to me,” continued Lucifer as he walked around the bar to sit two stools away from the boy. “If nothing else, you could tell me your name.”

No answer.

Predictable, really, but he’d be lying if he claimed it wasn’t antagonizing, and he certainly wasn’t about to start that. Still, Lucifer kept an easy smile on his face. “It would only be polite. After all, you are a guest in my humble abode.”

The boy snorted and sat up, finally looking over at Lucifer. “Okay, first of all, by no one’s standards is this place humble. Second, you dragged me here, so I’m not sure if I’m more of a guest or a ‘guest’.” Even without the air quotes, the boy’s stress on the word had it dripping with sarcasm.

“The first one, though I would hardly call a stern suggestion dragged.”

That got him a raised eyebrow. “You’re coming home with me,” the boy said in a poor imitation of Lucifer’s accent. “I’m sure you’d rather that than my alerting the authorities?”

“I wasn’t going to leave you out on the streets.”

Bright blue eyes narrowed at him. “Why not? Other people are left on the streets. What’s so special about me?”

That was the million-dollar question, wasn’t it? Lucifer couldn’t even guess at the answer, and that irked him. Dear old Dad had done enough meddling in Lucifer’s life already—he wouldn’t have gotten his hands dirty again—which meant one of his siblings surely had a hand in this, but which one? To what end?

What was he missing?

The boy crossed his arms again, though he kept his elbows off the bar this time. “You shouldn’t even have been able to find me,” he muttered. “No one was supposed to find me.”

“A common enough sentiment among runaways,” Lucifer drawled after taking a sip of his drink, “but particularly among those who are running as much for their sake as someone else’s.” He leaned closer, meeting the boy’s eyes, and added, “Tell me, what is it you really desire?”

The boy shrugged. “I wouldn’t turn down a Nasty Special right now. With extra sauce.”

It hadn’t worked last time, either.

More proof that there was more to this boy than meets the eye. Not that he’d needed it. The boy wouldn’t be here in the first place if Lucifer had. Still, the fact that the boy had briefly shaken Maze after running away from Lux the first time was impressive. There were precious few who could disguise their trail that well.

Lucifer hadn’t asked, but he suspected Maze respected the boy for it. Every threat she’d made to him since had had a more obvious undercurrent of teasing on her tone, at least, and the boy tended to laugh them off anyway. He’d been more comfortable around her than he had been around Lucifer from the start, but the banter between them had grown to the point that Lucifer was inclined to call them friends before he’d call them acquaintances.

Mazikeen, for her part, wasn’t sharing an ounce of what she’d learned from their exchanges with Lucifer.

Lucifer took a long drink before setting the glass aside and asking, “Would you settle for dinner at my brother’s house?”

Amenadiel was worried about who the boy was and what his showing up might mean for all of them, which was no surprise because Amenadiel always worried about that sort of thing, but Linda had been the one insisting on getting a proper introduction to Lucifer’s ward sooner rather than later.

That’s what she’d called the boy: his ward.

Lucifer didn’t really think the term could apply when it had only been a couple of days. He didn’t even have a name to put to the boy’s face.

(He’d checked the police records. Unofficially, of course. There wasn’t so much as a missing person’s report matching the boy’s description filed within the last year. The next time he found an unattended computer, he intended to expand that search.)

“Should I?” The boy’s eyes flicked to Lucifer’s empty glass. “Judging by how fast you downed that, he’s not a good cook.”

“How much I happen to drink has nothing to do with the quality of the food at our family dinners.” The company, on the other hand….

“Good enough,” the boy said, straightening up and spinning the stool so his back was to the bar. “When do we leave?”

-|-

Halloween snippets | see more fics

#lucifer #danny phantom #lucifer morningstar #danny fenton #crossover #fanfiction #my writing #ladylynse #crossover snippet #dp snippet #lucifer snippet #snippets #halloween snippets

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madmanwonder · 2 years

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Modred: Father, Issei just confessed to me.

Artoria: Oh? The one with shameless perversion? Do pray to me, what was his confession?

Issei Confession:

youtube

#highschool dxd #highschool dxd shitpost #issei hyoudou #fate series #fate apocrypha #fate series shitpost #artoria pendragon #saber #mordred fate #draconian treachery (issei x mordred)#issei x mordred #crossover au #crossover snippet #crossover prompt #Youtube

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hughmanbean · 3 months

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Dick and Jason are dead. A causality of battle.

Well, not really. But the otherworldly hunter thought they were, and it really wasn't in their best interests to dispute that. It was too chaotic to get back to Bruce, so they decided to just wait it out.

There was a scuffle and the crate opened, the two of them taking the opportunity to jump out.

Jason scans the room. Dick stretches.

"What in the-"

---

"You sure, Skulker?"

"Trust me, High Whelp, these two were knocked out cold!"

Danny opens the door. They look at him. He turns back to Skulker.

"You know, for the Best Hunter of the Infinite Realms, you sure aren't good at keeping your prey down."

#dp x dc #dp x dc prompt #dpxdc #dp x dc crossover #dcxdp #dc x dp #dead on main #skulker #high queen danny phantom #Literally just a snippet of what could be a fic idk

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moodlesmain · 11 months

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I am THIS close to going full conspiracy board trying to piece together the components of my favourite genre "spooky, mystery solving, coming of age adventures that involve a clash of the mundane and the supernatural"

EDIT: I went full conspiracy board mode

#is this anything #this is just a snippet of my whirlwind thoughts on this topic #I was always sad as a kid that I couldn't fully engage with the mystery kids crossover fandom #because I'd never watched Coraline or played Psychonauts #but was a HUGE fan of Gravity Falls and ParaNorman (and others like otgw and invader zim)#and my longtime passion project story Turned Yesterday is essentially my own take on that sort of genre #gravity falls #coraline #psychonauts #paranorman #and loads of others #mystery kids #EDIT: accidentally posted the wrong version of that last chart SDHTGRFSED it makes more sense now sorry

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starry-bi-sky · 26 days

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my body's aching like a knock-down drag-out

and my poor heart is an open wound A Childhood Friends Au snippet that very briefly delves into Danny's life post-accident. CW: Mild Mentions of Blood, Violence, VERY mild gore ig. Danny briefly recalls getting impaled during a fight.

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

What they don't tell you about being dead is that it hurts. That it can hurt. That it can hurt more than when you were alive. That when you die, the emotions you die with stick with you like a leech that just won't let go. That emotions are ugly little thorns that stick their barbs into you and grow beneath your skin; or, at least, whatever’s left of it.

Danny is familiar with anger. It kept him warm in Gotham, when his parents weren't home from work and he and Jason were crowding Crime Alley with their presence. It kept him warm in Amity, when the fresh sting of moving was still needling into his heart and he wanted nothing more than to rip and tear into the closest person next to him.

He's familiar with violence. With fights. With death. He's seen people die in Crime Alley probably every day. From overdose, from gunshots, from stab wounds; anything that can kill, rest assured he's seen it. He's familiar with getting his own knuckles rough and bloody when other kids turn and bare their teeth at him and Jason; they're all just starving dogs stuck in a fighting pit, primed and ready to rip out each other's throats.

Black eyes, stomped hands, bloody noses. You name it; he’s had it. Gotham is paved with the blood of her children, and Danny likes to imagine that when he was born, the doctors handed his mother a file and told her; “Take it. He’s going to need it for his teeth.”

Danny’s mom (and dad, for that matter) was too busy trying to keep him and Jazz fed, so Danny stole the file from her drawer with Jazz’s help, and did it himself.

He’s familiar with anger, he thought he was getting better at it these days. It doesn’t come to him as easily as it did before. Of course, that was before Jason died.

Danny is less familiar with grief. Caring kills and Gotham kills the caring, so Danny cares very little about other people. Or he tries to. But grief hurts. His grief hurts. It hurts too much. It hurts like a bug trying to crawl out of his chest; like a rat chewing a hole through his heart. Some days he wants to dig his hands into his hair and split himself down the middle. Some days he just wants to scream.

He’s dead. He’s dead. He’s dead.

He wants the whole city to hear him wailing, some days. It sticks itself in the back of his throat like bile, and Danny is one wrong retch away from letting it loose. It sticks in his lungs like all the tar he’s smoked in since he was nine. It pushes and aches at his temples, in his head, like his brain is trying to swell out of his skull. His thoughts becoming so loud they threaten to commandeer his tongue.

He has no mouth, but he must scream.

Something they don’t tell you about being dead is that it hurts. That it hurts more than when you were alive. Something they don’t tell you about being dead is that it’s violent. That it’s bloody. Or as bloody as it can be when everyone has no blood.

Another thing they don’t tell you about being dead, is that it’s a lot like Gotham that way.

With no threat of death, Danny’s enemies forget death itself. Blood comes easy, like water, and teeth are encouraged. Bring your own fangs to the fight. Dying is something you can just walk off.

Danny’s been dead for three months. He can’t say he’s been walking it off easy. He’s perfected the art of turning his nails into claws since his heart was still beating, but he can’t say he’s perfected fighting other ghosts.

Scrappy is just not enough.

He feels like he’s back in Gotham again. Back in her death-shroud alleyways, fighting someone bigger than him. But there’s no Jason to watch his back, and Danny has to get himself out of there alone. Or he might just not get up at all.

Black eyes, busted lips. It’s familiar to him like an old scent, Danny isn’t quite sure that he’s missed it. It’s more familiar than his fights with Dash.

But there’s no one else who can do it but him. Not Sam, not Tucker. He can’t lose them too. He can’t. He can’t. He can’t. His heart can’t take another break, he already feels like he’s going insane.

With no threat of death, Danny’s enemies fight like death themself. He learns why when Technus puts a street sign through his stomach one day. It pins him to the asphalt like a moth pinned by its wings.

Danny claws at the metal like how an animal caught in a trap chews off its leg, and every move is blinding pain. He thinks he was howling, but it’s hard to tell. He couldn’t recognize the sound of his voice.

He bleeds green. It mixes in black with the pitch blackhole in his heart, which throbs and twists and cries in time with his reckless panic. The finger-choking terror of dying again strangles out the air he doesn’t need. His blood evaporates, only to reabsorb into him. It just bleeds out again, cycling like a snake eating its own tail.

Danny breaks his nails clawing at the metal, and eventually gets it in his mind to pull it out. So he does, and the end drips ectoplasm green as he gets to his feet. In red-vision, Danny sends the sign back with snarling, vicious fervor. The pain is irrelevant in his rage.

Only after the fight does the hole the pole left start to close. Danny doesn’t shift human until it’s gone. Unlike other injuries, a scar stays behind. Ugly; mottled, it aches for a week with every twist and stretch his body makes. He hates it.

Being dead is agony.

Every part of him is in pain. Every step, every word he speaks, everything he does, it is prerequisite with pain. The body is temporary, but the soul is forever, and death has carved into it with its freezing green hands and left him with never-ending heartache. It has torn from him and stolen what of him it could, and in return it’s left him with sorrow.

His pain is his grief, and he’s sobbed in the safety of his room more times than he can count. It’s still as fresh as the day he heard the news of Jason’s death. He knows, instinctively, that it will stay fresh forever.

In his room, Danny shoves his hands over his mouth and shrieks in whatever, muffled way he can into his pillow. It’s not enough. It’s never enough. He needs to be louder. He needs to be heard. He refuses to be.

Being dead hurts.

#tw mild gore #cw mild blood #cw mentioned violence #dpxdc #dp x dc #danny fenton is not the ghost king #dpxdc crossover #dpdc #dp x dc crossover #dead on main #dp x dc au #dp x dc fanfic #cfau #cfau danny #obsessed with the fact that danny just has the WORST fucking time after jason dies and baby i can make it worse #*kills you and makes you a banshee and puts you in an irrevocable state of grief*#delicious angst. danny is having the wORSt time ever lol. lmao even #was originally meant to explore the idea that danny can survive lethal injuries as phantom. which briefly got mentioned.#but i got away from myself. leaning reaaal heavy into the fact that danny's a banshee. At 19 he's got a pretty good handle of himself #but imagine being a fresh out the gate banshee. usually they get time to themselves in the zone to cry until their heart's content.#sorry danny. you have school tomorrow and family sleeping in the bedroom next door #kinda proud of myself. you can kinda see how Rath would've occurred here.#danny is going through it rn #was gonna add a snippet about the city's thoughts on phantom but couldnt fit it in

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impyssadobsessions · 17 days

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Excerpts from my WIPS ;3 Guess Which story and when- or if its a story even up. If ya want.

----DPxDC

“Keep communication lines on, we'll be moving towards your location.” Batman had replied, which made Nightwing clicked his teeth. “How much should I bet you're not going to do that?” Dick turned to ask Jason as both of them hopped off the bike. “Do what? I didn't hear anything.” “Okay, so a hundred at least.” Nightwing hummed, as he followed Red-Hood back towards the abandon lab.

----DPxDC

"-One time she sent DASH! To babysit ME! I'm older than both of them now. Y'know how awkward that was? Though the look on Dash's face was hilarious.” Dick smirked, raising a brow. “The guy that bullied you? Why did she ask him?” “Ah, probably because he's a puppy that'll do whatever my sister asks. She knows it too.” Danny clicked his tongue as his face grimaced at the implications of it. “I may or may not have... scared him a few times. I do like a disappearing act.” Dick grinned as he could imagine what Danny meant. He did seem to take any form of “keeping tabs” on him as a challenge. Danny smirked back, a mischievous glint in his eye, before dropping his face. “Jazz was REALLY upset about it. I had assumed this was her being overbearing and protective like usual-I didn't realize how hard this was on her.” The guilt thick in his throat. “She broke down crying and.. I promised her I'll stay out of the house when she's not home. 'Cause I didn't know what to do.. or say. I just..” “Thought of the easiest solution?” “Yeah... I guess.” Danny shrugged, defeated.

---------DPxDC

“Tsk, tsk, tsk. Shouldn't you be resting, sir?” Alfred scolded. A small amused smirk on his lips as he carried lunch on a tray. Bruce just made a grunt. His eyes glued to the screen of the laptop. Images, news articles, videos. Whatever he could find was displayed on the screen, while he bit at the end of his pencil. A notepad next to him. “Ah yes, very informative answer, Master Bruce.” Alfred set down the tray on the nightstand beside his bed. There was more than just lunch on the tray as it carried a medical kit. Bruce sighed. He shoved the laptop to the side and struggled to sit up more so Alfred could replace his dressing. “This whole situation just crawls under my skin.” “I say it does, sir.” Alfred's hands move quickly to help replace the doctor's handy work. “Secret government organization, children in peril, and the boarder between life and death getting thinner by the day. Certainly sounds like a recipe for disaster.”

---------BULLY

Pete glanced back up at Mr. Smith. The man was eyeing him carefully, waiting for a reply. He must care about Gary in some way to go through this much trouble, right? And... it would be easier to contact Gary's grandfather than dealing with the headmaster. Pete bit his lip as he thought. “Um, Okay. S-sure.” “Atta boy! Hahaha!” Allen laughed as he smacked his hand on Pete's shoulder, making him stumble. Pete really needed to work on not being pushed around so easily. “Though, if you can mange to keep little Garreth in line, I'll add in a little bonus for your trouble. Since you're doing more than half what I was paying this damn school to do.” “That's not-” “Some good advice. Never work for free, Pete. Consider it a token of gratitude. After all, I think we both know watching my grandson isn't an easy task.” Allen winked.

--------DPXDC

Tim had no idea how he was going to pull this off. His eyes glancing from the Fenton parents to the boy he met yesterday, Danny Fenton. He knew he was dead. At least, was ghostly in some way. Danny didn't act or looked how Greta did, but Greta was visible as Deadman wasn't. So perhaps ghosts varied drastically? Either way, Danny being dead wasn't even the part that was bothering him. It was knowing he had to pretend he didn't know- while Danny sat right next to his oblivious killers. Well, the word killer might be too harsh. Tim theorized it was an accident regarding with a portal that opened on top of Danny. Which might also explain Danny's unique qualities.

---------DPxDC

“...Danny has traces of... Lazarus pit... stronger than yours.” Tim answered, with a concerned tone. They were afraid of how Jason would take it. And Jason was not taking it well, as he felt cold rage deep in his veins. The icy chill as he acknowledged that not only was Danny his blood... he shared the worse part of his blood. The reminder that they... Had died. Those scars... that was how Danny died and so far knowing their luck, he doubted it was painless. “Little Wing? Jay bird? You there, I'm almost at your location. How's Danny?” Dick called on the comms. Jason pulled the boy more into his jacket, giving him the best attempt of a hug he could. “Better than the fuckers who did this to him will be.”

------DPXDC

Danny had made an unfortunate discovery. His powers, like all ghosts, were based on emotion. Other's emotions. Even worse, the strongest one was fear. Fear fed on itself and grew stronger and stronger. And what made him discover this, made his heart sink with dread. He was stuck powerless in Gotham as his friends were laughing themselves to death along with other hostages in the room. Danny cursed at himself for listening to Sam. He should have phased them out of there, regardless of Batman's no meta rule. Now the only fear emitting into the room was his own. They were too far from others for him to feed off of, and ectoplasm was low. No.. more like the ectoplasm was being pulled away from the ground of Gotham and seeping into some other being that was far too greedy. “Well, well, well~ Look what we have here? A little party pooper!” A man with green hair and clown painted face cackled, as he waltz his way over to Danny. The black-hair teen ripped his eyes from his friends, glaring at the man. He gritted his teeth and clenched his fist, while he stayed knelt over his friends. “Funny, most parties I've seen at least has music.” Danny was feeling sweat dripping off his face. He needed to do something fast, but if he couldn't transform.. then he wasn't sure what else he isn't able to do. Not like this man looked fit, but... Danny knew danger when he sees it. “Ah, but this is music! To my ears at least, ehehehehe!”

----------CAMP CAMP

“Ah. Smell that, Gwen?” “Smell what.” “That fresh breeze! We had gone a full twenty-four hours without a single camp activity catching on fire.” “Huh, I guess you're right! This camp only smells half as shitty-” “Where's Max?” Both Gwen and David utter out in realization as it had dawn that neither of them had seen the troublesome trio since breakfast. --- “Don't worry Max! We'll save you once I finish chewing off my leg-” “Nikki! DON'T!” “Well... I'm fucked.”

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dysfunctional-doodle · 7 days

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Finally, I updated Too Many Turtles! Read the latest chapter of my TMNT chat fic here!

(In which, the mysterious new ‘Mikey’ is revealed, ‘Raphael vs Chicken Nuggets’ is put to the test, and 2003 Mikey starts a war)

Dr Delicate Touch can verbally and physically beat down any Raph any day, trust me. I have this funny hc that rise Mikey and 2012 Raph have beef with each other for no reason and it has a chokehold on me whenever I try and write a chapter, help -

Sorry I’m super busy rn 😓. For regular updates on my time schedule and stuff, I suggest checking out my ko-fi as I post there frequently about bonus content and time stuff as I use it for commissions and personal blog posts:

-> Commissions || My Kofi || Tip Jar :) <-

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alyakthedorklord · 1 year

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AFAB/Damian’sTwin!au Danny, presumed dead, transitioned while away, meeting Damian again, and immediately dumping as many puns into the conversation as possible.

Ex: “Hi Damian! Im back bc of some death defying trans-dimensional shenanigans! I’m kinda glad I died, honestly. It let me do some soul searching I wouldn’t have gotten to do while connected to a mortal body. Find out what I really was in spirit. I mean, I wouldn’t have stood a ghost of a chance back in the league, grandfather would have sent me to the grave. Again.

Jason: stop.

Dick: no keep going this is beautiful

Danny: i seem to have a real connection with Dick

Damian: I’m disowning you. I just got you back and I’m disowning you.

#dc x dp #twin au #snippet #dp dc crossover #dc dp

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ladylynse · 1 year

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Trick or Treat!

After not hearing from her in months, Danny had come to find his cousin.

Her trail went cold in Gotham.

Danny hadn’t been here long before realizing she might have just kept her head down and quietly moved on. Amity Park had it bad with all the ghost attacks, but it wasn’t like this. The attacks might be more frequent back home, but the average threat level of these ones seemed to be higher. Sure, Danny’s judgement might be skewed because the Box Ghost had attacked five times in the three days before he’d left to come on this trip, but still.

Danny didn’t want to write this place off until he knew something for certain, so he let the local superheroes take care of things and hung back in the shadows, trying to keep his head down.

The shadows were not as empty as he was used to.

Maybe, if he’d been better actually hiding in them, or if he’d just stayed invisible for as long as possible when things got dicey, he wouldn’t have attracted attention.

His best efforts otherwise were dismal, apparently.

Clearly, showing up to the scene of as many attacks as possible on the off chance that he’d run into Dani—or some lead about her—had been the stupidest thing he could possibly do, something Jazz and Sam would no doubt have pointed out to him repeatedly if he’d mentioned it.

But he hadn’t, mostly because he knew they wouldn’t be happy about it. Sam, Tuck, and Jazz knew what he was really up to, even if they didn’t know the full story about Dani, so they were keeping up the pretense with his parents of being invited on a business trip by Vlad.

Keeping secrets kept getting him into trouble in the long run, but it worked well enough in the short run. It wasn’t like he was going to tell anyone here what he was really doing or how he always managed to avoid getting shot.

He had not expected that people on both sides would find reason to distrust him when he hadn’t even done anything, though.

Sure, his showing up to the scene of the crime, even when those scenes were far apart, might be more pattern than coincidence and give them cause to question if anyone worked out the math, but no one back home had ever blinked twice at that. And, okay, maybe that one hero had been noticeably freaked out the first time he’d met Danny, but Danny had assumed that he’d just been having a rough day. The bank robbers had nearly shot them both.

(Well, they had shot Danny; Danny had just been intangible at the time. Maybe that had been more noticeable than he’d thought?)

And it was hardly his fault he’d frozen everything green on sight the minute he’d noticed a plant moving in an unnatural way. He’d thought it was Undergrowth. He’d been quick about it, too—hadn’t even bothered transforming since he could handle ice easily enough in human form now, thanks to his ongoing training with Frostbite—and he hadn’t thought there were any witnesses around.

Something he’d been wrong about, apparently.

Story of his life.

“This isn’t what it looks like, I swear,” Danny insisted. “This is all a big misunderstanding. I’m just a tourist.”

Really, he should have known they wouldn’t believe him.

Ask box trick-or-treating - receive a snippet if you drop by - Happy Halloween, everyone!

Halloween snippets | see more fics

#dpxdc #crossover #danny fenton #fanfiction #my writing #ladylynse #snippets #crossover snippet #dp snippet #halloween snippets #I'd had an actual plan for this crossover #and then didn't write it down #so you get this instead #enjoy!

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pencilofawesomeness · 11 months

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FT x TWST Housewardens

Ever since I realized (halfway through my other batch of drawings) that Housewardens specifically get to design their own uniforms, I've been wanting to a new batch with them because I get to partially customize the uniforms based on what I think the character would do and I think that's neat.

Also featuring little blurbs of story content stuff because this AU is starting to live in my brain. (Help there's so much in there but it's so fun.)

Text version of the blurbs under the cut

ERZA SCARLET [Half-fae, half-human]

Grade/Class: Sophomore (2-A28) Homeland: Queendom of Roses Club: Spelldrive Best Subject: Summoning Unique Magic: Sword Space —allows for objects to be collected and removed from a pocket dimension of Erza’s own making

LOKE URSAE [Lion Beastman (mostly)]

Grade/Class: Junior (3-C30) Homeland: Sunset Savanna Club: Track & Field Best Subject: Defense Magic Unique Magic: Light of the Sun —causes Loke to channel and release a highly concentrated light magic capable of burning almost any other type of magic; it’s very bright and potent

AQUARIUS SADALSUUD [Merfolk]

Grade/Class: Junior (3-C26) Homeland: Coral Sea Club: Literature Club Best Subject: History of Magic Unique Magic: Water-Bearer —allows her to absorb large masses of water (any state) into herself or objects, and subsequently to release it as well

ULTEAR MILKOVICH [Human]

Grade/Class: Junior (3-B20) Homeland: The Shaftlands Club: Science Club Best Subject: Ancient Magic Unique Magic: Rewind —allows her to revert targeted objects to a previous state of being

MINERVA ORLAND [Human]

Grade/Class: Sophomore (2-A23) Homeland: Scalding Sands Club: Equestrian Club Best Subject: Poison Making Unique Magic: Territory —can switch the locations of two targets of her choosing

MYSTOGAN MARVELL [Human] Originally Jellal Edolas

Grade/Class: Sophomore (2-E19) Homeland: Kingdom of Heroes Club: Mountain Lovers Club Best Subject: Magic Analysis Unique Magic: Mist Body —turns his body into a nigh intangible mass of particles; also grants high movement speed and flight

LAXUS DREYAR [Dragon-fae]

Grade/Class: Junior (3-D05) Homeland: Briar Valley Club: Board Game Club Best Subject: Practical Magic Unique Magic: Thunder Palace —links things together and to him and allows Laxus to channel his magic through that item (or person) when activated

#fairy tail x twisted wonderland #crossover au #fairy tail #twisted wonderland #erza scarlet #loke #loke ursae #aquarius #aquarius sadalsuud #ultear milkovich #minerva orland #mystogan #mystogan marvell #laxus dreyar #housewardens #i've been passively making backstories for these bad boys and gals #it's been getting out of hand #but I wanted just little snippets of profiles for now #like in the twst archive #and yes i did make literature club up #since characters can start their own I figured it was flexible #aquarius strikes me as the type who gets strangely passionate about themes #like angry gremlin style #lucy levy and freed are in there too #aquarius and lucy will argue PASSIONATELY but they are having fun trust me #also Mystogan pulls a Jade and goes hiking except he does it because hiking is fun and quiet #Rogue joins him and they chill together and stare at things #Laxus is in the board game club because Bickslow dragged him in #but he's grown to enjoy it #definitely freaks people out though who are joining for the first time

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unorthodoxx-page · 1 year

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I would love to hear Donnie’s internal monologue right when he enters the story! How quickly he figures out what people think he is and how quickly he adapts all that

I def think he’s probably got the most interesting internal monologue in this situation!

This will be a Tumblr exclusive! I don't have any planned turtle POVs for A Tale of Spirits, but everyone is so interested in Donnie's appearance. So here it is! Short, sweet and devoid of any important spoilers. I will say it’s rough though, I wrote this over the course of a few hours with minimal edits.

Note: there is a low chance of another turtle POV for this story. Like I said earlier (super early, it’s probably buried in my posts at this point) but I have one plot point further down the line where I’m considering it, but I’m leaning on doing it a different way.

Anyway! I put it under the cut incase anyone wanted to skip it, but here’s Donnie’s POV for chapter 1 (just a portion)

Donnie

A circle of swirling red energy fluctuates before him, and he can only stare at it. Donnie holds a hand out towards the portal and the air around it feels warm, scorching even, but there’s no hint of red on his skin. Is it psychological? The sensation of heat feels too real for him to completely consider that option, though. Ugh, Magic. Why is it always the lazy answer? Donnie looks back at the darkness behind him, expecting to see nothing, and sucks in a breath. There’s another portal off in the distance, a stagnant green and brown, with the tip of red cloth falling into it.

Raph. That’s right. He wasn’t alone in Draxum’s library. He turns fully, running for the other portal, and he falls back with a shout. He rubs his nose and reaches out with the opposite hand. There’s nothing there physically, but his hand comes in contact with a solid force. He leans forward and scowls, but nothing he does gets him closer to the other portal. He has to go through the red one now. His brother’s on the other side. He might not be, a voice says. Donnie looks back one last time, at the encompassing darkness, pulls out his staff, and steps forward. There are points in engineering when you have to disregard caution. Not everyone will agree with that, but he’s made some of his best tech on a wild leap and a step into the unknown.

His foot connects with the portal and he winces. It hurts, but there’s no burn or smoke coming from the limb. Psychological then. He pushes past it. Lets the heat engulf his entire being and plants a foot in a room bathed in red. He looks down into the shocked face of a young girl. Everything about her is sharp. From the set of her banks to the point of her fingernails. She’s swimming in red and draped in a style that is unfamiliar. There’s a commotion behind him and Donnie turns to take in the rest of the room. It’s massive, overly so, and is filled with men and women dressed in similar styles, but darker.

They get up, shouting angrily and Donnie shifts his stance and blinks at the rough feeling under his feet. He glances down and tries to make sense of what he’s seeing. It’s a table, a long one that’s for sure, but embedded in the wood is a map. He releases a small breath and tightens his grip on his bo. He doesn’t recognize anything on it, not even a character. A man shouts again and Donnie looks up just as the man falls into a weird stance. Donne feels an eyebrow raise, the man can’t really do anything from that distance, but the man pivots, and his jaw drops when a wave of fire flings from the man's fist.

Donnie moves on instinct, his shell opening and engines revving. He pivots, spinning his staff. He feels the power roll down his arm and he starts the process to build a simple construct. A wall comes to life in a glow of purple and he pushes it toward the fireball. It swallows the incoming flame, smothering it, but Donnie continues to push it forward. His energy wraps around the man in a mystic cage, but the man doesn’t give up. Instead, he continues to throw fire, but it’s pointless. His mystic tech could take on a nuke at this point. Probably. The guys won’t let him test it. Donnie lands softly in front of the girl but doesn’t take his eyes off the man. It’s magic clearly, but he’s never seen anything like it before. Not even in dumb witch town. Where are the wands, the cheesy hats, the cauldrons? Is this another place in the Hidden City? But those outfits? They look like uniforms. He takes in the room again, its size, and finally finds the man sitting on an incredibly gaudy throne.

Wait, a throne?

A piece clicks. A Throne room? Is this what this place is? But where? And where’s Raph, he thinks? Another man falls to his feet and starts shouting. “A blessing!” the man cries, “The spirits have blessed your rule and your line. All Hail Fire Lord Ozai!”

Fire Lord? That’s a little on the nose, but the whole room falls into the chant. Screaming about spirits and blessings. He listens to them in silence, but he feels his skin craw. Could this be some type of cult? He wouldn’t be surprised, there aren’t a lot of humans that would take one look at….this whole situation and think spirit. But the fire? Someone leaves the room, shouting down the hall for sage, but the ‘Fire Lord’ never leaves his throne. Donnie moves, bringing a subtle hand to his wrist, and tries to connect to a network. He frowns when he finds nothing. That’s…odd, but not out of the ordinary for crazy cult people. Donnie pushes further, past the building, but again is met with nothing. What is this, Hogwarts? He thinks, but a cold feeling starts to settle in his bones. He glares at his wrist, forget this, he swipes the screen and pushes the connection past the clouds and through the very atmosphere. He didn’t want to go straight for the satellites, but he has no choice, he needs to know where he is.

Again, he’s met with nothing.

That’s not possible.

He looks back at the people bowing before him, at the clothes he doesn’t recognize, and at a title he’s never heard of. He shifts until the entire map becomes clear and lets his eyes travel over a landscape that means nothing to him. He places another puzzle piece.

He needs to move very carefully.

Some old men come in then, draped in reds and Donnie’s already sick of the color. Where’s the variety? One man gives him a deep bow before approaching. Donnie stands still and lets the man make his observations, while he makes his. They left the door open when they let these priests enter, and he’s ready to blow this joint if things take a turn.

The man gets to his back and stops. “A turtle,” the man breathes and the whole room sucks in a collective breath. “A great turtle spirit has graced us with its presence! This is a sign! The spirits have shone their favor for our quest. Glory belongs to the Fire Nation!”

Glory? Spirits? Fire Nation?

Donnie absorbs all of this while the room erupts again into prayers and shouts. This time more joyous. Even the man on the throne lets his face move from murderous to hungry. He doesn’t like it. Donnie finds his gaze moving back to the girl and she looks at him with disbelief and suspicion. At least there’s one person here with common sense.

The man stands from his throne and the whole room falls into a hush. “I am Fire Lord Ozai,” he speaks, “tell me, what is your purpose here, spirit?”

The priest twitches beside him and Donnie narrows his eyes. Hmm, did this man not address him correctly? Donnie reviews the last few minutes and finds the discrepancy. Great. Fire Lord Ozai left out the word great. Does that mean he has more power than their Lord? Donnie decides to test it. “I do not know,” he pauses, “Ozai.”

Someone gasps, but no one reprimands him. Interesting.

“Fire Lord,” the man sneers, “Ozai.”

Now he’s being ridiculous. Plus, Fire Lord? Please. “I don’t do titles.”

Ozai’s face pulls into something apocalyptic, fire leaking from his mouth. Donnie zero’s in on the aggression and adjusts his grip in response. He wonders faintly if the magic burns Ozai’s throat or if he ignites his breath as it passes over his lips. Donnie spins his staff. It doesn’t matter, he’s an exaggerated flamethrower and Donnie’s taken down scarier beast than him.

A priest -Sage, he corrects- steps between them on trembling legs and bows low before the softshell. “What should we call you, Great Spirit?”

Donnie narrows his eyes and connects another puzzle piece. They were shocked by his presence, but not by his appearance. They should be running for the hills at the sight of him, or at least be calling him a demon. That would fall in line with the Sages, but they call him a spirit. They’ve even given him a title. Great Spirit. It means something in this world, but how far can he go? What can’t he do? He looks back at the girl. Your line, he thinks. Donnie takes in the sharpness of her eyes and the familiar tilt of her lips. She’s related to Ozai, but he’s not sure how close in blood they are. He lets his eyes run over the entire room and clicks another piece. She’s the youngest one here, which means her title must supersede the adults around the table. Daughter, maybe? He focuses back on the shaking Sage and the tension between him and Ozai. He needs more information before he does anything, and this spirit thing might be his best bet. He thinks back to a green portal and the wisp of red bandana tails.

He needs to find his brothers.

“Donatello.”

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cyb-by-lang · 15 days

Text

The Once and Future Thing

Summary: So, remember how the first Justice League Unlimited season finale was a time travel adventure where Wonder Woman, Green Lantern, and Batman ended up chasing some goober named David (or Chronos) around as he mangled the timeline with his crappy decisions? All the way back to the Old West, and to a version of Batman Beyond's future Gotham.

Here, Kei got dragged along.

Notes: So having a multi-hour obsession take hold is an interesting time. Here, take the product of my brain deciding to momentarily jump tracks.

Kei had been prepared for a lot of potential ways the future could twist in circles when the timestream was being actively manipulated by some opportunistic creep with an inferiority complex. Like, there was a level of petty, thoughtless bullshit that was only really possible for the most banal sort of everyday evil. The kind of guy who went time traveling around and dropped dinosaurs in cowboy land because he got mugged in the past…well, he fit the bill. Heading through time portals to chase after a guy like that wasn’t just heroism—it was basic self-preservation.

Chronos couldn’t be trusted with ultimate cosmic power. She wouldn’t have given the man a goddamn hamster and expected to see it alive a week later.

This was surreal enough that all semblance of thought just fell out of her head.

When the Future Justice League (obviously minus…most of them) arrived, squaring off with the cybernetically enhanced Jokerz gang members, she’d sort of expected them. Future Batman? Sure, it’d been long enough that the all-black suit with the red icon and flight bits was in circulation. Old Man Static? Okay, Kei had never met the guy personally, but it was cool to meet another electrokinetic after the Ultimen fiasco. And War Hawk! Neat that it confirmed the Hawkgirl-and-Green-Lantern relationship worked out in some fashion.

But the deceptively normal person that strode out of the darkness and made fully half of the super-Jokerz team back the fuck up? A shadow wearing a white ANBU mask.

The crown of spikes was familiar. It was a rendition of something Kei had mocked up once, depicting Isobu’s face in all its spooky glory. Glimmers around the material pointed to some kind of future-tech modification, which stretched down the jaw and neck and into the rest of the dark suit. Kei saw the vaguest suggestions of her favorite sword, the belt of materials and scrolls she often carried, and a hood that made the mask stand out that much more, like a bloody promise.

Every one of the gang enforcers who backed up, Kei noted, carried at least one obvious cybernetic enhancement. And the hyena hybrid just fucking cowered.

“And here I thought the lesson I taught you might finally stick,” said a voice with a playful lilt and a Japanese accent, even years and years on.

“Shit—”

“Oh fuck, it’s her—”

“What is she doing here?!”

“I don’t know—”

The figure cracked her knuckles. Isobu’s chakra flared hot and hateful in a way it hadn’t been for years, centered squarely on the new arrival and creeping outward in a clear threat display. “Class is back in session.”

09090

“Surprised to see me?”

“A little. I’m more surprised that I lived so long.”

Batman’s meeting with his older self was overshadowed solely because Kei didn’t really…get that far. Instead, a pair of worn but familiarly-scarred hands landed on her shoulders and dragged her away from that potential minefield. She’d only meant to ask if anybody else had made it this long, after hearing half the League had been shot out of space along with the Watchtower.

Not all heroes coordinated there, after all. It could be a mercy. Kei at least meant to ask about the other Bats, though she knew the answer would probably be “You don’t wanna know.”

Instead, Kei sat on a dilapidated future high school desk while her captor explained, “—Now watching someone retcon cybernetic enhancement into reality in real time was annoying, but we’ve worked through that!”

Kei stared, lost for words.

“Who is…?” she heard Wonder Woman begin, only to stop short as the older woman turned around, popped off her mask, and grinned.

Kei…wouldn’t say she’d aged badly. Her face more lines, and time had turned her hair super streaky with gray and white, and she’d picked up some more strange scars, but her spine was unbent and she didn’t look anywhere near Old-Batman’s age. Which made sense, since he’d started this whole drama as already in middle age, where Kei had been a teenager, like Static.

Was still a teenager.

God, time travel fucking sucked.

“Diana-san,” said Kei’s future self. “Nice to see you’ve cheated death and aging. You look good.”

“Genbu, it’s good to see you survived amid the chaos,” said Wonder Woman, and extended a hand. As Old-Kei clasped forearms with her, her tense shoulders relaxed a little. “And that you’ve made a reputation for yourself here after all.”

“Oh, it wasn’t so hard once I put my mind to it,” said… Okay, maybe she could be Genbu. It wasn’t like Kei had ever thought that one through, and now the other Kei had finders-keepers privileges by a lot. “I found it takes a few demonstrations to really make a lesson stick.”

“Why doesn’t that hyena guy have arms?” Kei burst out.

“Because Woof thought he didn’t need to check for tripwires,” Genbu said, shrugging as she let go of Wonder Woman’s arm. She smiled again, all innocence. “I’ll get him next time.”

Your future self has taken a proactive approach to some problems.

And weirdly, Kei thought with an edge of panic, I don’t want to know how she got there.

Kei had always suspected that her particular skillset made an excellent fit for a guerilla campaign. And here was a version of herself who made good on that potential. The fact that she’d lasted this long was simultaneously depressing and encouraging. On one hand, everyone must have died if she was still here to get old and cause trouble in a warped timeline. On the other, she’d survived. Her and Isobu, by the feel of things.

What a fate.

“—Because we’ve already won! Think about it. If old Bruce is here, that means he already lived through this as Batman.” Oh, Static was talking again. “Not to mention Genbu’s mini-me. And yes, I do recognize those scars.”

“Flawless logic,” Old Bruce bit out. “Except that I have no memory of ever going to the future or of meeting my older self, or of anything else that’s happening today.”

“Those historical buildings we saw on the street—” Realization struck Batman square in the middle of the sentence. “The timeline’s been polluted.”

“So polluted that history itself is becoming fluid.”

“I could have told you that,” Genbu said, rolling her eyes. She flicked a hand out idly, and a kunai flew out of her bracer and into her palm in the same manner as New Batman’s batarangs. “But it’s like people stop listening when you get old.”

“‘Oh, it’s that Chronos dipshit again’ doesn't convey anything helpful until the disaster already hits,” said New Batman. Or Terry. Kei didn’t know if she was allowed to call him that. “You can barely pull off ‘creepy and kooky aunt.’ Quit while you’re ahead.”

“And who are you calling old? You’re barely two years older than me,” said Static, more amused than offended.

“And that’s two years you’ll never get back.” Genbu snorted. “Terry-kun, if Woof wanted to keep his arms, he should have kept them to himself. The same goes for Ghoul,” Genbu replied, unashamed. She started cleaning under her nails with the point of the kunai. “Teaching the new generation is what I do best, you see.”

Kei winced, though no one here seemed offended by Genbu’s flat refusal to dial down the violence. There weren’t any rules in this kind of war. And, unfortunately, it looked like the timeline turning into a pretzel guaranteed that there were no soft choices. Chronos had already stolen them all, and for what?

For nothing. What a selfish little bastard. The end awaiting him was almost too kind.

“So, about the Dee Dees…?” Kei asked, while the others argued for a little while. She’d noticed a pair of Raggedy Ann twins earlier among the gang members, but it had seemed a little gauche to go “wait, I retconned you out of existence by accident already” in the middle of a fight.

“Chronos’s fuckups ruined the timeline for everyone. Something, something, we’re all dead in a few hours if we don’t fix it.” Genbu had turned away from Wonder Woman and the others while they tried laying out missing bits of timeline, keeping her attention on Kei. Like some kindly old auntie who happened to carry her own weight in bombs instead of cookies. “But to answer your specific question: I think he pulled them out of some other branch and gave them duplication powers. Mostly, I’m too busy killing their copies to ask. Though I do hold out hope that, one day, they’ll realize multiplying by zero still makes zero.”

She looked entirely too proud of that.

It’s not like Kakashi’s here to make those bad jokes land. Which was a depressing thought, too. “And the Joker…?”

Genbu rubbed the back of her neck, where her high collar met her hairline, and tapped a fingertip where a microchip might have gone on Tim Drake at some point. “Irrelevant. Like most things.”

Because either the timeline held strong with Kei’s interventions and that plot hadn’t gone through, or it had and it didn’t fucking matter because Chronos’s bullshit killed all involved parties but two. Since Bruce and Terry were around. Unmaking the space-time continuum beat out a washed up comedian/serial killer any day. No amount of orbital death lasers really compared.

“Though I will say it has been interesting, hunting them down like rats.” Genbu’s expression was too placid to be trusted. Her eyes flashed red-gold, mirroring Isobu’s for just a moment. “I think they had…nine thousand members? Organized into two hundred cells or so at their peak and desperately in need of culling.”

“I…guess that’s one way choose a hobby?” Kei mumbled, trying to edge away from her older self without making it obvious. She could have just used Body Flicker, but any shinobi who lived to fifty-something in fighting shape could and would pounce like a leopard on speed.

“It keeps me active,” Genbu agreed cheerily, and let her go.

That was…one way to put it.

09090

“So, Tiny Turtle.” New Batman somehow drifted into her orbit, while both other Batmen worked on programming a solution for Chronos’s shit decisions. “Does being a seer count as a preexisting condition? Asking for a friend.”

“For…the ban on talking about your own future?” Kei made a face at the nickname, but said, “I think you’re good.”

“If Bruce doesn’t know what’s going to happen, I’ve been assuming you—or your older half—already do. So, is it true?”

“I think that if Chronos wins, this whole thing is pointless anyway.” Kei shifted from foot to foot, trying not to think about the absolutely overclocked fūinjutsu options her future self handed off like they meant nothing. She could probably vaporize one of those cyberpunk Gotham monoliths by using four of them well enough. “So, the mission is to get the thingy to his time-belt. And if we’re lucky, history snaps back into place.”

New Batman took a moment to consider that option. “And if it doesn’t, we would never know.”

“On account of all being incredibly, retroactively dead, yeah.” Kei let out a long, quiet sigh. “If I’m anything like Genbu—and I hope I am—then I know we’re both up for trying to save the world. No matter the cost.”

“Seems steep. There’s nothing for us without winning.” He rolled one shoulder. Maybe the cyber-suit wasn’t holding up as well against the time-cheated weaponry as he needed. “Chronos has been trying to kill us for forty years, one way or another. Guess it’s not really news at this point.”

“Yeah. Still sorry this is ending up on you.” Kei flexed her hand. The sense-memory of almost getting her hands on that whiny little fucker still bothered her. Sure, making sure one of the Wild West heroes didn’t get eaten by a dinosaur was important, but… “I should have killed him when I had the chance.”

There was a slight pause. “I thought—I guessed you threw out the hero rulebook when we lost the League. But the person I call Genbu and the person you are have always been like this, haven’t they? Haven’t you, I mean.” New Batman shook his head. “Time travel’s a pain.”

“Ha. You said it.”

#keisuke gekko #exorcising and exercising demons #isobu #bruce wayne #diana of themyscira #justice league #crossover #catch your breath fanfic #john stewart #virgil hawkins #terry mcginnis #rex stewart #snippet #snippets

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inkedroplets · 3 months

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No idea how to tag this but I've had a few anons ask about my Supercorp/MCU crossover fic and wanted to share a snippet since I haven't actually posted anything in ages. Tagging @sideguitars because they've had to listen to me ramble about this plenty.

I got turned around somehow…

It seemed utterly ridiculous for Lena to lose her bearings so easily when the Royal Palace of Valaskjalf was such a distinctive landmark to use as a kind of north star but all the same she was lost.

Maybe I should have just stayed the night, she thought, wondering if turning down Sif’s offer to stay the night was a mistake, after all. There was certainly plenty for them to talk about. Or rather, plenty of questions that Lena had about Asgard that Lena would have dearly loved answers for. Although she wasn't sure that would constitute pillow talk in Sif’s book. And

She was about to try her luck cutting down a side street to see if she might be able to spot her temporary lodgings when a jovial voice boomed out from behind her.

“Lena Luthor!”

She started, instinctively reaching for the baton stashed in one of her heels and relaxed when she recognized to whom the voice belonged to.

“I didn't mean to startle you,” Thor apologized. “I must have stepped lighter than I meant to. Loki is usually more the one prone to sidiling.”

“You’re fine,” Lena assured him. “Force of habit,” she explained, stowing her baton away without missing a step. “Usually when someone shouts my name from behind they want to take a swing at me. Or call me a bitch,” she said. “Or they did back on my Earth.”

“Only a coward would try and attack from behind,” Thor rumbled, sounding scandalized although his expression softened a bit almost at once. “Just don't tell Loki I said that.”

Lena mimed turning a small key close to her mouth.

“You're lost, aren't you?” Thor said.

“Woefully so,” Lena admitted. “Probably should have paid closer attention on the tour.”

“It was a pretty lousy tour,” Thor said fairly. “We don't get many visitors. Although that appears to be changing.” He pointed down a street that veered right. “Your quarters are that way,” he explained. “From the palace it’s two lefts, you can't miss it.”

“Two lefts,” Lena repeated.

“And from Lady Sif’s it's two rights and then a left…”

Fucking hell.

Instinctively, Lena began to walk faster, either wanting to reach her quarters as quickly as she could, alarmed at how easily Thor kept pace with her.

“Stark told me about this,” he said as he strode along beside her. “The stroll of… No.” He shook his head, brow furrowed for a moment before he snapped his fingers. “The walk of shame,” he said, looking infinitely pleased with himself. “That is what this is called, right?”

“Oh God,” Lena groaned.

“Not that the name makes much sense. Shame is the last thing you should be feeling. Lady Sif is a fine friend and an even finer warrior,” Thor said sounding as if he were speaking to himself rather than to Lena. “It’s no wonder she caught your eye.”

If another tear in the universe opened up right now, Lena thought, I would jump in no questions asked.

“Thank you for the directions, Thor,” Lena said, through clenched teeth, relieved when she saw they had arrived back at her temporary lodgings.

“Don't mention it,” Thor said, clapping her warmly on the shoulder. “We’ll talk more tomorrow,” he said, striding off in the direction of the palace. “I have some combat pointers I could give you.” He swung his hammer in a slow kind of golf swing. “For any other cowards that would try and engage you from behind.”

“Maybe not the best choice of words,” Lena mumbled to herself. “That's very generous,” she said a little louder. “Thank you, Thor.”

“Of course, if you prefer, Lady Sif would be more than happy to as well, I'm sure. Especially since you two are already so well a-”

“Good night, Thor!” Lena called out before closing the door behind her.

#snippet #my writing #lena luthor #I need to find a good crossover tag

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artmunstudios · 7 months

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Your springs are reacting. You feel...embarassed.

I don't have the time to draw this out in a complete comic like I'd like to, so enjoy the drabble below in its stead! I was inspired from this scene from Hellboy. Also...a mild excuse just to write these two idiots at their peak dynamic. (to sum up: Pinocchio, a good influence on P? Questionable. A good brother from another reality? Perhaps. The Lampwick they are discussing is not the canon one, but @/wildartsstuff’s)

"Alright, let's see it," Pinocchio waved a hand out as he stepped into the room. "It is nothing," Pino had insisted yet again. His springs reacted to the lie, he thinks, but he was too distracted by the approaching puppet. “It is just a record.” “Nothing, huh?” Pinocchio pressed. “Yes. I enjoy listening to them?” “Yeah—and you always listen to them downstairs in the lobby, not in one of the furthest rooms away from where everyone else sleeps. You don’t even have Gemini on your belt.” “He is resting.” “Right.”

A long silence passed between them.

Wood was lighter than metal—that was just a simple fact. While Pino had become very light on his feet, the weight difference could not be ignored as he tried to keep the record album cover out of reach. Standing up only helped so much, despite the height difference. Instead, Pinocchio simply jumped on the bed, and without hesitation snatched the record album cover from Pino’s hand.

“…’Love Sonnets of Krat”…?” Pinocchio squinted as he read the title out loud. The two puppets exchanged looks. “Oh…buddy…” his brows raised as Pino shrunk back a little. “…don’t tell me this is about Lampwick.” At that, Pino finally slumped back to sit on the bed again. Pinocchio plopped down beside him. “He…makes me feel. He has been kind…and he teaches me things I never thought I would learn.” “You really need to get out more,” Pinocchio sighed as he lounged back. He grimaced. “Oh…fuck me, I’m starting to talk like Anthony.” He hung his head back with a groan. “Great…” Something about the look Pinocchio gave him made his springs and gears tighten. He assumed this was…irritation? “I really care about him.” They stared at each other. Pinocchio nodded, sympathetically. He pushed himself off the bed, and Pino watched the puppet rummage through the drawers and cupboards of the extravagant room. He made a satisfied sound at some point, pulling out a bottle of…if he recalled, the old woman by Venigni’s factory called it a ‘tipple’…?

He heard a popping sound, and Pinocchio walked back to sit beside him again.

“You’re in love,” Pinocchio concurred, and he held the bottle in his direction. “—have a drink.” Pino shook his head. “Can you drink?” “Yes—I can drink things, it’s the eating that I can’t really do.” “Do you wanna try?” His gaze shifted. “…I don’t think Father would approve,” “You have to go anywhere?” “Well…no, Venigni has to decode a—” “Just take a swig.”

He took the bottle, looking over the label before hesitantly raising the bottle to his lips. The flavor was strong, strong enough to make his joints jolt. He looked at the label again, quietly feeling a warmth fill his stomach. It felt somewhat similar to the warmth that would come when his springs would react to a lie, but…something told him this was different. “Good, yeah?” He stared at the bottle in wonder. “An old woman asked me to bring her some, once,” “She said that it was important for her to have.” Pinocchio snorted. “Oh yeah? “…Why not talk to your Geppetto about…what you’re feeling?” “…I…do not think Father would approve…” “Yeah? That a fact…” Pinocchio watched as he took another sip from the bottle before scooting back to lean against the pillows. Pino mimicked him, and the two sat side by side. “…Which song was it?” “The last one, I think.” Pinocchio flipped the album cover over in his hands, looking through the lists of songs. He looked up at Pino as though he were a sodding wet puppy lost in the storm that currently raged outside the hotel. “…’Aimer’…?” When he got a nod for an answer, Pinocchio heaved a long sigh. “Yeap, I’m gonna need a drink, too.” “It’s a nice song,” Pino insisted as he watched Pinocchio stand and walk over to the record player to place the needle at the beginning again. “I like it a lot.” “Ain’t that just the way,” Pinocchio sighed. “What way?” “It’s a metaphor, kid. Grimme that bottle.” Pino silently handed the bottle over to Pinocchio as he plopped back down on the bed. It surprised him, a little, that he could handle such a thing so palatable despite being a puppet. Wasn’t the feeling overwhelming?

The two sat in silence for a while, listening to the music that played while passing the bottle between each other.

By halfway through the second listen-through of the album, only a little less than a third was left. “Have you ever been in love…?” “Oh yeah,” Pinocchio scoffed loudly. “Lots’a times.” He took a long drink. “Fuckin’…fuckin’ sucks,” he said as he passed the bottle. “What did it feel like, for you?” “Like…like…you’re gonna throw up your insides,” Pinocchio gestured vaguely. “Your insides an’ butterflies an’ flowers…get all…warm ‘n fuzzy—just wanna curl in their arms all the time, feelin’ safe ‘n warm…” Pino was thoroughly confused, and he frowned. “But that doesn’t sound bad at all…” “You ever throw up before?” “No…I don’t think so,” Pinocchio was insulted. “Oh—oh he jus’ keeps on winnin, don’tcha?!” He said, snatching the bottle when it was held out to him. He glared into it. “Get to look all…human on the outside, like a…perfect pretty-boy,” he turned the bottle end upright when he drank. “—even the people tryin’a kill you think yer…all hot, an’ now he’s sayin’ he never even…puked on the sidewalk,” he slumped back in a huff, and considered. “Well…just wait ‘till mornin’—you’ll change your tune then. Probably, if you actually can,” Pinocchio grumbled, absently tugging at the necklace under his shirt. “‘Ssat…?” Pino asked, gingerly taking back the bottle. “Whus what?” “Ssat—“ Pino poked at Pinocchio’s chest. “Keep my ‘gagement ring on a necklace,” Pinocchio said, pulling on the chain to hold up the plain gold ring attached to it. “Lose it if I didn’t—doin all…flips an’ stuff fightin…” “Who is she?” Pinocchio snorted. “His name is Razel. Think you’re the only gay…puppet twink?” He waved Pino over. “Gimme that, ‘m gettin ‘nother sip,” Pino pouted as he handed Pinocchio the bottle. “Don’t gimme that look,” “You…don’t like me, do you.” It came out more like a statement than a question. And for what it was worth, it did catch Pinocchio off guard. He stared at the automation for a long while. Eventually, he sighed. “No, I…didn’ ever say that—I don’t…not like you?” “You get angry at me all the time…and…everything about my…being, seems to upset you,” Pinocchio hung his head with an even longer sigh. “No, I…fuck, okay, look,” he pacifyingly handed the wine to Pino. “—allathat…it’s…that all ‘cause’of my own problems, got nothing to do with you,” he watched as Pino took a tentative sip before glancing away. “Ah…I dunno…jus’…jealous of you, guess...even if it’s all gone to hell here, you’ve still got it somehow made here!” He gestured widely. “You live in this fancy five-star hotel, you’ve…got friends, and actually manage to keep ‘em, your papa actually seems to like you…you didn’t even really have to learn to fight, allathat came natural!” He grimaced at the ceiling. “Then…there’s me—stuck in this…block’a wood, just about every friend I came across as a kid pretty much died…an’…papa…my papa’s…gone. Not that he liked me much, anyway…” Pino looked around the extravagant bedroom, his gaze settling on the window. He stared quietly at the raindrops that slid down the glass. “…You…can feel things,” Pino said, his voice quiet. “You always could have…you never needed to learn. You…can get angry, frown, and smile,” “You can do that too, though,” “Not smile. Smiling is…difficult. It looks…’uncanny’, that’s what I heard.” Pino looked down at his legion arm, flexing his fingers. “Appearances only go so far…when people hear my gears…they usually turn. I’m…not a who—I’m a what.” "'...s'all stuff you can learn, though..." "You can cry." "Can't you?" "I don't think so—I don't think I have tear ducts." They looked at each other, something in that silence making the two sober up a little. Pinocchio glanced away. “Right…guess…there’s always gotta be somethin’,” he mumbled. “I don’t like killing things, all the time…” “Preachin’ to the choir,” Pinocchio said. “What do I do after this is done…?” “Fuck if I know that answer—I barely knew what I was doing when I was actually a human.” They both grew silent again, somehow feeling drunker in those few minutes than when they had gotten halfway through the wine bottle.

“Bah, that’s it—sober moment over. Where…where is your lover-boat, anyways?” Pinocchio snuck in an extra sip before Pino had clumsily taken the bottle. “He…he’s…he…” Pino struggled to finish the thought. “Treasure.” He decided on. Pinocchio hummed. “Right, yeah…s’a…thing here, yeah…” Pino peeked into the bottle, fascinated by the way the red liquid rolled inside. He swayed side to side. He looked at Pinocchio as though he had suddenly sprouted butterfly wings from his ears. “…Huh?” “I said—” Pinocchio stopped, briefly forgetting just what he had said. “I said—what kind of market does this place even have?” “Oh, it’s…it’s…it’s…” Pino’s brows furled as he absently drank from the bottle. He had downed half of what was left without even realizing he had done it, for he was too focused on thinking. “Hey, hey—” Pinocchio swatted at his hands, managing to pry the bottle away when they became unsteady. “—you gotta…gotta take it easy, you can’t jus’ go an’—” “…s’like…jus’ one…” Pinocchio squinted at Pino as if he had suddenly sprouted the ears of a jackass. “Huh?” “Only…really…see one…” Pino motioned vaguely. “’ryone’s…i’side—inside…houses,” he made a box shaped gesture. “Windows’all…shut…’cept for…sometimes,” “Like tipple lady,” Pinocchio concluded. “Yes,” “Yeah,” “Mmhm.” “Got it.” Pinocchio took a sip, and then another. “Okay so…treasure…guy…” “Lam’wick,” “Yeah, that guy,” Pinocchio passed the bottle back, and heaved a deep sigh. “I wish Anthony were here…he’d know what to do—what to tell ya. He’s’a cricket, so ya know he’s real smart an'all, an’ gives good advice an’ stuff…” “Cricket…” Pino said, moodily staring down the bottle. “…Glow.” “Nope, not mine,” “No glow?” “No glow. He’s…” Pinocchio gestured high above his head. “..s’all tall an’…an’ he’s a doctor, he's…doctor, so all extra-smart…” They both grew quiet. “…I don’t…think he’d…like me,” “Wick,” “Mm-mm. Doesn’t like…puppets. Calls Father an me…devil,” Pino frowned. “’M notta devil, m' a…puppet,” “Preachin’ to the choir,” Pinocchio chorused. “Cross a bingo, take a shot—nobody ever likes us wherever we are,” Pino turned the empty bottle upside down. “Fox…an’ cat,” “Oh you got a pair too, huh,” “Cat…called me…dumbass,” “’bout right.” “Wick wouldn’…want a dumbass,” “Fuck that cat,” Pinocchio slurred aggressively. “You’re not—you’re…smarter n’…probably any version of us out there,” he shook Pino, drawing his attention away when the automation tried to use the wine bottle like a telescope. “’Sides, bein’…bein’ kinda a dumbass is our personal brand’a specialty. If Wick don’t want that then…then…he can…stick…” he squinted, trying to concentrate. “…’m too drunk to think of a insult, but…but that’s what you should think if that’s how he gets,” Pinocchio concluded as he flopped onto his back. He waved a finger in the air, mumbling something, but Pino was having a hard time concentrating on much else, at this point. He blew into the bottle, the loud sound coming from it startling him.

Polendina knocked before entering the room, Gemini in hand. “Excuse me, but your lantern keeps requesting to be with you, and it is important to not leave your items unattended…” he stopped short, watching the pair of raven-haired puppets snooze away while slumped over one another. “What the heck happened here?!” Gemini cried as Polendina stepped around to get a closer look. “Ah.” He picked up the empty bottle, having long since been abandoned at the bedside. “Ohh, I don’t think Geppetto would like this one bit,” Gemini said. “There is no need to say anything,” Polendina concluded. He set the empty bottle on the dresser, and placed Gemini at the bedside table. “After all, there are seldom moments of rest.” “True…I’ll keep an eye on them, regardless.” “I shall come by later to check in.” Polendina said, leaving for the door. He stopped, thinking for a moment before closing it.

Perhaps he should prepare some hot towels for when they wake.

#artmuns drabbles #drabble #fanfiction #fanfic crossover #pvp drabble #pvp comic #lies of p #oc #pinocchio #sketch #pinocchio geppetto #no goodnights #original character #fanart #wilds lampwick #i don’t have a full out story #or really plan on making one #these are just fun snippets really

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illunicae · 1 month

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Little fluffy snippet of my current WIP that I'm trying to get done as a one shot. It's an human au sort of thing with the rise boys. Oh and it's a mix with FNAF.

After a while the group hug fell apart as everyone got comfortable in the pillows and the movie started. By the end of the movie, Mikey was fighting to stay awake and losing as his eyes were closing for longer blinks. Raph turned off the tv and it didn’t take long for the group to fall asleep on the pile of pillows and mess of blankets.

Waking, you found yourself in a tangle of twisted blankets and flailed limbs. By the sounds of the soft breaths and snores it was clear that the boys were still very much asleep. You could see the soft light of morning just barely starting to peek over the horizon through the living room window. You smiled happily as you let yourself cuddle deeper into the pillows around you. As you let your eyelids slowly drift shut for a few more hours of sleep, you saw a figure with long maroon hair pass by the living room. The figure had paused briefly to glance at the children sleeping in the fort with a soft smile before moving. You couldn’t bring yourself to feel alarmed as you slipped back into slumber. The boys had mentioned their “uncle” before. Maybe you’ll meet the man when you all wake up for breakfast.

Someone was poking your cheek when you woke up a second time. Bright sunlight warmed your skin, but it also bashed against your eyelids, driving sleep from your body. That and the persistent prodding at your cheek had you groaning and rolling over in an empty pillow pile. You barely registered you were alone in the blanket fort before a voice was hissing your name and the pokes became more insistent.

“Mikey!” Another voice whisper shouted, “Raph told you to leave her alone and let her sleep.”

“But she’s hardly sleepin’ now.” Mikey whisper-argued back.

“And whose fault would that be?”

There was a thick pause and you decided that sleep had truly abandoned you to the waking world. You slowly sat up with a groan, pulling on your wrists above your head to loosen up your joints. The resonating popping made you hum with delight. “I’m up no worries.” You mumbled. The blanket that was resting on your shoulders fell away, bunched around your waist. You rubbed your eyes as you glanced over at the two boys staring at you.

Mikey giggled as you climbed out of the blanket fort. You could feel the static making some stray hairs cling to the back of your neck; you could also feel that your head was a little top heavy as sleeping on a pile of pillows instead of a proper bed whipped your hair into a wicked updo of bed head. You could tell that Donnie was also holding back a small fit of giggles as you blushed furiously in embarrassment and tried to tame your truly unruly hair.

You only got it halfway decent before Mikey grabbed your hand to drag you to the kitchen where you smelled something heavenly cooking.

“Pops made panacakes.” Mikey chirped as he pulled you over to the dining table with Donnie trailing behind.

“It’s PANcakes, Mikey.” Donnie corrected.

“That’s what I said, panacakes.” Mikey nodded.

Your stomach made its interest known as you caught sight of the large stack piled in the middle of the light oak table. Raph and Leo both greeted you as they seemed to be in the middle of setting the table.

“Ay, nice bed head, chica.” Leo called with a chuckle. You stuck out your tongue and ran another hand through your hair.

Everyone eventually settled down around the table to dig into the glorious golden pancakes. A new figure joined your group of five children and one adult around the breakfast table. He was tall; taller than Mr. Yoshi, that's for sure. He had dark maroon hair that reached just past his shoulders and dark eyes of almost the same color. Those eyes filled with warmth as he smiled toward you with a greeting; however, there was something slightly off, something cold and calculated. Your train of thought was derailed though as Mikey cheerfully introduced you to their “uncle” Draxum.

#my writing #work in progress #snippets #Rubatosis fic #rottmnt leo #rottmnt donnie #rottmnt mikey #rottmnt raph #rottmnt splinter #rottmnt draxum #rottmnt x reader #rottmnt x you #rottmnt x oc #human rottmnt #fnaf au #rottmnt fnaf crossover

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