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xxgoblin-dumplingxx · 2 years

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Part four of the Bruce and best friend? Will they get together? I’m dying to find out, I love this so much! You’re such a talented writer

I'd be lying if I said I knew what was going on over there 😂. I know Alfred will have them married and settled before she has the baby, if he gets his way.

Bruce watched you slip out into the Garden for a breath of fresh air and frowned. Even if Darren wasn't on the guest list for the Gala, he didn't like you being anywhere alone.

Especially not right now. You were starting to get visibly with child which, of course, had led to some rather mean-spirited speculation in the press. Everything from a cheating scandal to unsuccessfully trying to baby trap your childhood best friend- the tabloids had been awful. They'd been horrific when your parents died. Downright cruel when your guardian had taken his own life- and now they were hounding you relentlessly for you to name the father of your child.

He made his way to you and slipped off his jacket, folding it over his arm. He'd considered letting it slip in public that it WAS his baby- but rejected that idea, practically, it would mean that you'd been the cheater, not just Darren- and the thought of you losing the moral high ground was less than palatable. Not to mention the emotional toll. He WANTED this to be his baby. Like he'd wanted to be your first kiss, your prom date- whatever it had been. But then, like now. He was afraid.

When he hears you sniffle quietly, his heat twists, "Hey," he said softly, "you okay?"

"Fine," you sigh, smiling up at him when he put his jacket around your shoulders, "Just getting tired."

Bruce can't help it. As a rule, he'd not been 'touchy' with you since he was 14 and he realized he was in love with you. But today, he can't help it. He tucks a stray tendril of hair tenderly behind your ear and adjusts his jacket on your shoulders, letting his fingers brush your neck just slightly. "I can take you home if you want," he rumbled, "It is past your bedtime. And Alfred would be appalled if you didn't get your sleep."

"You can't leave your own party-"

"We used to do it all the time," he reminded, tucking your arm through his. "Remember when we snuck out of the After Prom I was supposed to be hosting?"

"The one where we smoked pot on the roof or the one where we went, still dressed up, for a joyride in your Ferrari to get milkshakes and sing karaoke?"

"Either one," Bruce snorted, leading you through the "staff only" door to go the backway to his car, "Though I think my favorite one was the time Ellen Alden tried to start a fight with you about something-"

"You," you answer cheerfully, "She accused me of sleeping with you and "ruining" anyone else's chances."

Bruce stopped for a second, "What's why you punched her in the face?"

"No. I punched her in the face because she called my mom a whore."

"Fair," Bruce said starting walking again, tucking you a little closer in the parking garage, "Still. We went to the beach, remember?"

"Yeah," you murmur, "I think I still have the seashells you kept putting in my purse."

He paused at the car and unlocked it, opening your door, "Do you want to go home or-"

"Or?"

He coughed, feeling his cheeks heat, "We haven't gotten in trouble with Alfred for a while," he said, giving you his most charming smile, "He probably thinks we've grown up."

You look down at your abdomen and snort, "Speak for yourself-"

"I'll get you some ice cream," he tempts, teasing you. Now that you're not nauseous all the time, your baby evidently had a sweet tooth. And he's not above exploiting it if it meant getting a little more time with you.

"Bruce-"

"Some ice cream and a walk on the beach?" he asked, "Please?"

And when you nod and huff at him, "Fine." while trying not to smile, he grins, walking around the car to the driver's side. "When's your next doctor's appointment?" he asked, buckling his seat belt.

"Wednesday, why?" you hum, adjusting your seat so you could curl up a little more comfortably.

"Do you want me to come?" he asked softly.

"It'd be a little hard to explain that you're not the father-"

"Fuck the tabloids," he growled, "do YOU want me there?"

"It'd be nice," you murmur, looking away. "I'm finding out what I'm having and-"

"Send me the time," he said softly, tilting your chin up. "I'll be there- and I probably won't tease you if you cry- too much." And when you smile, letting your cheek rest in his hand briefly, his eyes crinkle at the corners and he feels himself melt.

"Thank you."

"Hey, It's not my baby but- you're my Sunshine," he reminded softly, "I promised it would be okay."

"Bruce-" He'd not used that nickname for you in a long time. You'd thought he'd forgotten but- you should have known better. And it made your eyes water. "Okay listen," you sigh, "If you're going to go all sweet on me and make me cry-"

"Brownie pieces in your ice cream it is," he chuckled, handing you a handkerchief- he had three of four more, just in case.

"Ugh, yeas please- And marshmallows."

"You hate marshmallows-"

"Evidently the baby doesn't," you huff, rubbing your stomach, "They also like peanut butter. And watermelon."

"Not together, I hope."

"Do not put that Idea in their head, Bruce."

"It's either that or I buy them a drumset," he teased, reaching over to chance taking your hand, thrilling a little when you place your fingers through his. "I gotta get you back for teaching Dick pig Latin somehow."

#Bruce Wayne #Bruce Wayne x reader #bff!reader #anon ask #anon answered #minors dni

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another-corpo-rat · 1 year

Text

a language of its own

i planned for this one to be tooth-rotting fluff. spoiler: it is not. because god forbid these two stay on script for me

Adam Smasher/OC Summary: In the wake of Hanako's coup, a lot of things are uncertain. Loyalty, mostly.

“Do I need to remind you what ‘do not disturb’ means?” Victoria’s voice is flat, her eyes not lifting from the document she’s re-read thrice already, certain it’s more interesting than an intern cowering at her threshold like a cold pup. She can hear their gulp, how they shuffle their feet awkwardly in place. Lily, then. A mouse of a girl who’ll get caught in some trap before long.

“I- I’m sorry Ms Crane,” the gentle voice is confirmation. Really, she would be better working for some holo-company. “But he wouldn’t take no for an answer—” She doesn’t need to look up to know who the he in question is either, simply letting out a heavy sigh and rubbing at her forehead to ease a brewing headache.

“Let him in.” She flicks her gaze up merely to confirm and, yes there stands Adam fucking Smasher. In a Gemini frame granted, so the sight is not nearly as impressive even if he still manages to fill the doorway. No, what’s impressive is his collection of ratty t-shirts he insists on wearing because God forbid he wears one of the many button-downs she had gotten.

“You shouldn’t be here.”

“Clearance says otherwise.” A clearance she’s surprised he has considering he was grounded, for lack of a better term: confined to a Gemini frame and unarmed until further notice. A slap on the wrist really for his apparent siding with Yoriunbo. Though Victoria has to wonder how long Hanako will prolong the punishment now that the medtechs have marked him as mentally sound enough to return to the Dragoon; what was riding a delicate balance is slowly tipping against the heiress. Already whispers were brewing that she was afraid of Arasaka’s war hound. It wasn’t a good look.

“Why are you here?” She tries instead, locking her desktop’s screen as he steps into the room, too purposeful in his stride towards her desk.

Paranoid, her own thoughts hiss at her. It’s soundly ignored: paranoia has served her well in its small doses, it keeps her on her toes, sharp. It tells her there’s something off about his being in the room, even if she can’t quite pinpoint what as her eyes continuously draw over his horrendous jacket.

“I’m fucking bored.” He drawls out as he circles her desk. His eyes drop from her blackened screen to trail their own path across her scattering of notes, barely legible chicken-scratch a far cry from her usual script. Her own follow a few seconds behind. Nothing too incriminating – she doesn’t think she’s left anything about biopods lying around.

“So you decide to bother me?” A grin bares his teeth as he leans into her chair, the weight of him almost pulling it back. Yes, is the needless answer as he curls a loose lock of hair around his fingers and tugs lightly.

“You’re the safest option.” A final, hard yank before he lets go. Far too obvious in intent as he leans to read the specific paper she’s been hunched over. That grin falters, pulling into something harder when she lays her arm across the bulk of it. “What’ve you been working on?”

Something pricks at the back of her neck; sharp and needling as her throat dries. Pressing her tongue against the point of a canine, she reaches for a casual tone rather than a bite.

“That’s on a need-to-know basis, Smasher.” Immediately she knows it’s too practiced, too formal, the narrowing of his eyes confirms it. The bite would have been better. Calling him Adam would have been better. The material of her chair gives a protesting groan as his grip tightens on the headrest. She almost protests herself, but bites her tongue - better the chair than her, and that is riding on a very thin line. One she’s not quite sure how to tip the balance of.

The focus on the risk to her neck keeps her distracted as his other hand snakes around, snatching the page from under her arm. “Adam!” Her outrage is met with a sharp laugh. Smug in his victory, amused in her pitiful attempt to steal it back.

He snaps the paper rigid in his grip, holding it above his head and reading through. Ignoring her undignified little hops, or the nicks her chrome nails leave when they glance against his skin. His eyes narrow, the thoughts twisting obviously in his head as he lowers the paper.

“You studying to become a neurologist now?”

“In a sense.” A hiss as she snaps it out of his hand and returns the paper to the small hoard of loose sheets, putting herself in the space between him and her desk. As if that’d stop him. But she may as well make some effort; there was too much information laying around and she only had herself to blame for the security risk.

It’ll be pinned on her, might even give Hanako a means to remove her from her project. She’ll throw a stink if it comes to that, for the entire breach the heiress facilitated unknowingly or not by allowing Smasher to keep his permissions. Clearance, he said. A clearance he had the moment Yoriunbo made him head of security, and yet here he is exercising it now.

“So, the princess is still letting you work. I gotta wonder why.” She eyes him as he prowls about her office, rolling his shoulders before he plops himself comfortably on the leather sofa against the opposite wall. It’s not the usual way he’d sit, with an arm thrown across the back and his knees spread wide. No, he hunches forward now, tries to pin her under his gaze.

“Because it’s useful. Simple as.” Her innate need to be difficult has her mirror his demeanour; arms crossing as she leans against her desk. Chin lifting to look down on him. It earns her a clenched fist.

“Mhm, funny that.” Something in his eyes harden. A warning that has her own gaze flick to the door. She wouldn’t get there in time. Not with him so close to it. “How you manage to make a big breakthrough just before things went to shit for ol’ Yoriunbo. Great fucking timing there.”

“It’s not like you to dance around an accusation, Adam.”

Not like him to make a move in this particular field either. He’s well-versed in the dance of career corpos; the machinations and manipulations. Yet he normally leaves that domain for her to play in.

“Fuck it in with the games, Crane. You know what I’m accusing you of.” She does: as well as she knows the barely-concealed anger that mars his tone now. And though he’s not in the Dragoon, the want to soothe him is an innate thing, a skill honed more for her benefit than his. She presses it firmly under heel.

“You think I would manoeuvre myself in a way that would likely set me against you. That I’d stand aside, content with my new lot under a new CEO, and leave you to rust.” She pauses, not to consider her next words but the very idea. Yes, actually, that does sound quite like her…

She hums derisively. “If it wasn’t you, then yes. There’d be some truth to that.”

“You expect me to believe that?”

“I’m yours in plenty of other ways, what makes this so different?” Something crosses his face then, a confusion she thinks, marring the hard set of his lips and easing the clench of his fists. There’s a tension in his shoulders, obvious to her now that she’s looking for it.

Has it been there since he stepped through the door? She wouldn’t know; as much as she prefers this newer frame she can’t read him well in it. Not like she can in the Elvis suit, or even the Dragoon.

“It’s an out.”

“It is.” An out to the contract tying her to him; leverage for her to pry herself from his grip. She could never hope to replace Hellman and his niche little hole, but that didn’t mean she couldn’t dig out her own with OIZYS. There’s a versatility she’s yet to explore, lingering on the edges of her attention: all the failed branches and threads to be twisted into their own projects once the parent is perfected.

She watches him as she agrees and – yes, there’s that tension. It rolls through him like a wave, most notable in how he works his jaw. Like he’s biting down. “One you wouldn’t be able to do a damn thing about. But,” It’s dangerous. Stupid. She moves towards him, stopping in the space between his spread knees to cradle a square jaw, tilting his chin upward to meet her eye.

His hands rest on her hips, heavy in their press.

“Have you considered that I like being where I am?” She softens her tone, lets fondness ease her gaze as her thumb trails against the rough line of his jaw.

And again, that confusion. It’s beautiful to see up close; the slight, brief furrow of his brows that narrows already hardened eyes. As ill-practiced as she is reading this suit, he’s as out-of-depth emoting in it. Nothing is subtle, it’s as if every relevant muscle is being yanked by a string until he finds the expression he wants. He finds a neutral expression now. Blank to match his dry tone.

“Careful, you might get me thinking that you care.”

“Oh, now I can’t have that.” She smiles as she brushes her lips against his, pulling away the moment his grip tightens and he tries to wrangle control. There’s a mere whisper of space, warmed by her caramel-scented breath.

She’d let him devour her in a heartbeat. Let him make a mess of her and the office alike if the timing wasn’t piss-poor; if Hanako’s eyes weren’t sharp in their search for anything to pry at. They were already treading a delicate line, too blatant, too public and yet not public enough. The stupidly bold part of her wants them broadcasted. “I’ll need to make you certain of it.”

His jaw slackens, grip loosening enough for her to step away without having to pull from him to retreat to her desk, hiding the bubbling in her stomach behind a smug twitch of the lips as she lets that settle in the air. It’s as close to a confession as she’s willing to give and even then it feels too much, her blood thrumming and a buzz rising in her ears at a very obvious misstep.

Her eyes veer to her scrawl of notes, to the page at the top – the one he had read. She doesn’t sit. Instead leaning over the desk, attention crawling over the annotations of an old case study: Phineas Gage and his wondrous survival. Nothing about biopods in that. Good. She can at least look busy, even if her fingers tap erratically against her desk and she worries her bottom lip between teeth. It’s a pointed effort not to glance up when she hears him move, following the sound of his steps in their wide circle of the office until he stops opposite her.

His hands warm and calloused, engulf hers. Pressing them into the desk to stop her tapping as he leans forward.

“Likewise, Blondie.” He’s gentle as he presses a kiss to her forehead, thumbs ghosting against the back of her hands. If she looked up, his expression would have been an uncharacteristically soft thing; eyes warm yet uncertain in the gentler motions. She didn’t look up.

He pulls away as quickly as she did, and with far less grace in his own retreat as he calls over his shoulder; “I’ll see you at home.”

She can’t answer beyond an affirming hum, biting back a too-wide smile and trying to crush the odd feeling in her chest. There’s no real effort to that crush. She gives up on it as soon as the door slides closed.

#cyberpunk 2077 #Adam Smasher #cyberpunk oc #corpo v #Victoria Crane #Ship: Gilded Chrome #fic tag #my writing #i swear someday i'll get to writing Vic's actual story instead of scenes in a verse thats prob not canon #but until then #these two really be like #we live together. we share a bed. i'll kill for you. id give up a potential route to power for you #but the moment they skirt close to calling it love they're like 🏃🏃🏃

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rafent · 11 months

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"There you are!" Spying the head of fine white hair, Griss calls over three other students milling around the refreshments, then pushes past them, eliciting a couple of startled grunts but little else. One glimpse of the metal that studs his rough-hewn jacket is enough to discourage them from making an issue out his etiquette, and Griss hardly notices them anyway, eyes fixed instead on the fell dragon that had accepted his loyalty in a world absent of both of his gods.

"You're harder to find than I thought in a place like this. Almost had me think you'd escaped the spell." He glances toward the table and its rows of decadent cakes, pies, and other pastries, and makes a face. He'd had enough hapless stumbling across sweets tonight to last him a lifetime. Rafal's plate tells another story though and Griss raises a brow as two pieces suddenly click together. If he'd been hovering around this table the whole time, then of course Griss wouldn't have seen him right away.

"Can't imagine the kid with enough guts to make a fell dragon serve their sweet tooth like this. Unless--" He makes eye contact with Rafal and the truth drops over him like a cold bucket of water. You have a sweet tooth.

[ // was actually going to be a prompt from the list but wound up being setup instead hahaha ]

He'd come to know the sound of that voice even with the few meetings that spanned their acquaintance in number. The Hound's approach was noted with a nod as he drew near, with a name made interchangeable with greeting, acknowledgement, and even some growing degree of welcome.

"Griss."

The other man's belated arrival meant that the passion of Rafal's foraging from moments prior was little suggested by his presently cool tone. A lightning fast scamper, knocking into elbows and fellow patrons in his timely gamble to seize the most choice desserts. Though, the two made for a humorous contrast to those aware of his. . .preferences. A porcelain plate packed with explosions of sweetness from rim to rim, center to edge, told that story quite handily, but to Rafal it was no guilty secret which words evaded.

Red meeting with red, he finished for the thought with a prideful smile. "You may state the obvious, or I shall do it plainly for you; I am fond of confections. Their comforts reign supreme for they are among the few things in this world that make life worth living."

Those who adjudged him dramatic for his claim would hold a false opinion. Rafal bespoke only his truth, and he dared to call it even a cardinal truth of this world! No flavor and no food was greater than that which was sweet, the highest call of luxury that lulled the taste-buds to heavenly bliss. Should this fell dragon abstain from sleep and drink in his journey of redemption he would never extend that lunacy to his cherished desserts. He would sooner perish.

"Now make yourself useful, Hound. If you are my faithful servant, then let this be my first order of command—" Little contested, there were at least some dramatics involved in the jab of his finger, bringing attention anew to the table behind Griss.

"Absolve me of judgment. Retrieve for me a second plate."

#◜ ₊ — 𝓡 ˚ ₊ 𝐋𝐈𝐅𝐄𝐋𝐎𝐍𝐆 𝐏𝐄𝐍𝐈𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐂𝐄 ╱ askbox.#twistedisciple #toaball2023 #HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA #i don't know griss i think rafal is already a better master than sombron #sombron asked for blood rafal just asks for offerings in sweet #i have some vague cute idea of how i see this going as a thread

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vogueman · 2 years

Photo

Paris Brosnan photographed by Hyea W. Kang for GQ Korea May 2022. Paris wears linen check jacket, vintage hound tooth check vest, sky blue poplin shirt, linen check pants, ivory felt cowboy hat, GG Supreme canvas shoulder bag, all Gucci

#Paris Brosnan #fashion

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doomfox · 1 year

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Goodman/Kessler. For Hire.

David Kessler tried to ignore his friend. He really tried. But Jack Goodman was nothing if not persistent, throwing his arms wide and grinning like an idiot as they walked side-by-side.

“Ah! You smell that Davy?” Jack cackled, rearing back his head and wearing an idiotic smile across his fresh young face, “you smell that in the air?? Know what that is??”

“What, Jack.”

“That’s LIFE my friend! Don’t it smell good??”

“No.”

“ahh, come on Davy-boy!” Jack gave David a hopeless look as they walked. “What the heck’s wrong with ya? you got worms or something?”

David gave his buddy a glare and accelerated his pace. “What do you think, Jack?” He growled, shooting his best friend an accusing glare, “you have any idea how cold it is??”

Jack rolled his eyes. “Ah, come on! You were ready for a trim.”

“It’s degrading!” David snapped, “I hate everything about it!”

“Well tell ya what,” Jack retorted, “next year I’ll leave you to it and you can overheat. And sleep outside because boy, you are NOT shedding all over the trailer.” Jack dived into his pocket, producing a handful of notes as he lowered to David’s level. “Take a look at this, davy-boy! one thousand dollars for a few days’ work! And half of that’s yours, buddy boy!”

David scowled at Jack, his buddy blocking his path. “Jack. Look at me.” David raised a hairy paw, gesturing to himself best he was able. “I’m a big fucking dog. What in fuck’s name am I supposed to do with money??”

Jack groaned, standing and shoving the cash back into his jacket pockets. “Christ David, you’re a hell of a buzzkill when you’re in a mood.” The two friends continued on their way, heading through the small town of Eagle’s Grove, where they had been living for the last year. They rarely went without the other, and were a local oddity, but the boys had managed to scrape a living doing odd jobs. Or, on the record at least, Jack had. Jack Goodman, and his strange dog, David. “Come on, bud! We are in the money! Let’s go get hammered, huh? You wanna go have some fun?”

“I guess...” David gave up, plodding along on all fours, the night’s breeze wafting over the light fuzz that had been left of his usual thick black coat, “at least I’ll be warm. But first round’s on you!”

“O’ course, buddy!” Jack gave David a quick ruffle over the head, “let’s celebrate our pay day!”

...

The two boys finally made their way to the local tavern, Jack pausing at the door to regard David. “Alright buddy, you know the drill. Time for the Dog Act.”

“Yeah yeah...” David grumbled resignedly, yellow eyes scanning the tavern door. Music quietly sounded inside, some kind of Country-rock. “I get it. But don’t ignore me this time! Gets lonely without anyone to talk to.”

Jack grimaced. “I’ll do my best, bud. But y’know, people think it’s a little odd when the handsome guy from New York starts chatting with his dog.”

“I’m flattered.” David nodded at the door. “Come on Goodman. Open up.”

Jack scoffed. “Of course, your Davidness...” Jack reached out and turned the knob, giving David a mock-curtsey. “After you, Fido!”

David nudged his buddy as he passed, Jack complaining as he was ‘accidentally’ knocked into the doorframe, and entered the warm, cosy interior of the small tavern.

People stared. They always did. It was five years since the full moon, David’s one and only transformation in his parents’ home in New York, and David was not quite the ferocious perpetually angry monster he’d almost become. He could be perfectly vicious and terrifying when he wanted, but when relaxed, teeth mostly hidden beneath his chops and expression at rest, he passed as a big weird wolfish hound. Just. He mooched through the tavern, followed closely by Jack, curious eyes following him as he headed for the bar.

“Mister Goodman! Good evening, son!” The tender, Carl, greeted Jack with a crooked-toothed grin as the man approached. Old eyes lowered from a wrinkled face, the bearded man now regarding David. “Hello there, David! You good there, big fella?”

“Hey Carl!” Jack grinned, joining David at the bar as his werewolf friend reared up to rest his paws against the wood, “don’t mind Davy-boy. He’s a little grouchy cuz’ he had his haircut today, ain’t ya boy?”

“Don’t push it, Goodman.” David released a grunt as Jack reached out to scratch at his back, remembering to maintain his ‘dog act’.

“So I see!” Carl chuckled, reaching behind the bar to retrieve something. “Well, I think I got a little somethin’ to cheer this big fella up!” He retrieved a tub of dried meats. “Here y’are, boy! Get that down ye!” A suddenly interested David sniffed at the treat, gently plucking it from the man’s fingers and scarfing it down.

Jack grinned. “Good boy! Very good boy!” David swore at him internally, and the man chuckled as he retrieved some notes from his coat. “Alright, Carl. Gimme a beer, and a dish o’ water for the dog.

Yellow eyes snapped to glare at him. “WHAT”

“Just kidding!” Jack grinned mischievously, enjoying David’s sudden consternation. “Usual for Davy-boy Carl.”

Carl nodded, pouring Jack’s drink and retrieving a metal dish from beneath the counter. “Never seen a hound drink like this’un. Damn peculiar, ain’t ya boy?”

“Yeah, that’s David all over.” Jack took his drink and David’s dish, “cheers Carl. C’mon David.” Jack clucked his tongue, David took another slice of jerky from the tender, and plopped to the floor to follow his buddy to a quiet corner. Jack set his dish down on the carpet. “There you go, bud. Enjoy.”

“You love this whole ‘dog thing’, don’t you?” David gave him a look, scowling tiredly at the man. “You get a kick out of demeaning me??”

Jack shrugged, raising his glass to his lips. “Always wanted a dog when I was little. You should be honoured, Davy!”

“Jack, have you ever considered not having a face?” David lapped at his beer, froth dribbling down his chin as he licked his lips. “Maybe shedding a few fingers?”

Jack gave him a strained grin as more men approached. “Doggy act, David!” David scanned around, ears raised as he recognised the men. “Hey, Art!” Jack raised his glass, greeting the passing men. “How’s the chickens?”

“Very good, Jack!” One of the men, a big rotund fellow with a flushed red face, beamed back with broken teeth. “Your boy there’s done a grand job keepin’ the varmints away!”

“Pest control is the big guy’s specialty!” Jack replied, leaning down to scratch David’s neck. “Don’t suppose you feel like loaning him for a couple days?”

“You’re doing what now??”

Jack cackled to himself as David shot him a startled look. The big farmer, Art, set his hands on his hips. “Nah, boy! Couldn’t separate a man from his hound.”

“Very kind of you, Art!” Jack judged his buddy with a boot, David grunting irritably as the contact. “David thanks you!”

“David says ‘get your foot off of me or lose it, Goodman’.” Art lowered and gave the big werewolf a scratch, before bidding jack a good night and heading off with his buddy. Jack took a slurp of his beer, David frowning into his own. “Do you enjoy degrading and annoying me, Jack?”

“Ah, get over yourself.” Jack wiped his mouth on the back of a hand. “I wouldn’t sell ya. Wouldn’t get much anyway, ya big throw rug.”

“Wow. Gee, thanks.” David grumbled, unimpressed “I’m honoured.”

Jack grinned, tapping his boot against David’s back. “That’s right, you’re a good boy!” He cackled to himself, lowering to scratch at David’s neck. “A very good boy!”

“STOP DOING THAT!! I AM NOT YOUR FREAKING PET!!!”

“Oh hey!” Jack stopped, suddenly uninterested in annoying his buddy, “take a look, David. Feast your eyes on that!”

David scowled at his friend and looked to investigate what had caught Jack’s attention. He paused. A pair of very attractive girls, apparent strangers, had entered the tavern and Jack was almost salivating as he grinned to his buddy. “Phew,” he whistled, leaning down to whisper to his friend, “fine piece o’ work, huh? Couple o’ firecrackers right there!”

“.. Jack, don’t you dare.”

“Dare what?”

“Fuck off and leave me alone to watch YOU hit on some girls!” David gave his buddy a pointed glare, very aware of his own inability to garner female attention, “I’m not dealing with that crap again, Jack! It’s not fair!”

“Sorry buddy...” Jack finished up his drink and stood from the table, “man’s gotta do what a man’ gotta do...”

“Jack. Jack?” David watched his buddy leave the table, striding across the bar to get to work, “Jack! You asshole, don’t ignore me! JACK!!!” David glared at his friend, scowling as he lowered himself to the floor to sulk. “Asshole.”

...

“So!” Carl wiped a glass, approaching the girls to fix their orders, “what can I get for you fine ladies?”

“I’ll handle it, Carl...” Jack spoke confidently, striding over to join the girls before they could make a sound. The fresh-faced young man beamed, leaning on the bar with the other hand on his hip. “Whatever they want. On me.” The girls grinned to one another as Carl took their orders, looking over Jack with interest. “So!” He said smoothly, sliding a fresh beer across the bar as Carl fixed their drinks, “you girls have names?”

“I’m Tracy!” The dark-haired girl offered, reaching out painted nails with a grin.

“Anna!” The other did the same, swishing her long blonde hair across a shoulder.

“Tracy! Anna!” Jack shook their hands, grinning like an idiot, “lovely names for lovely ladies! Name’s Goodman. Jack Goodman.”

“So, mister Goodman...” Tracy said, blue eyes flashing as she sipped at her drink, “what is it you do around here?”

Jack shrugged. “Ah, bit of this, bit of that... my buddy and I are kinda the ‘odd-job guys’ round here!”

“You have a friend??” Anna seemed VERY interested in this, eyes gleaming as they scanned the bar, “where is he?”

Jack smacked his forehead. “Oh, uh... he’s around. Hey, I’ll get him for ya! David??” Jack clucked his tongue, leaning against the bar as he looked back to the table. “Come here, big guy!” The girls waited expectantly, Jack beginning to feel like an idiot as David apparently decided not to show. “Don’t mind him, he’s just shy! DAVID! Come here, boy!”

The girls frowned, watching and waiting... and released simultaneous gasps, startled as a black-furred head appeared, David loping around the table to resignedly see what Jack wanted.

Jack grinned. “There he is! Hey Davy-boy! Come say hello to the ladies!”

David briefly scanned between the girls, giving Jack a very unimpressed look as he plopped his butt on the floor. “You gonna get my drink or what, Goodman.”

Jack declined to indulge his friend’s silent request, lowering to pat David squarely on the back. “Tracy? Anna? Meet my good buddy David.”

“Oh my God!” Anna raised a hand to her mouth, the two girls gawking at the big strange wolflike creature.

“What on Earth IS he??” Tracy regarded the werewolf with astonishment, David remaining silent as he continued with his dog act.

“Kesslerian Wolfhound!” Jack replied smoothly, continuing to scratch his buddy’s back, “very rare breed! Don’t worry...” He winked, both hands clapping on hairy shoulders, “he might look scary, but he’s very friendly!”

Anna cooed in fascination, lowering to tentatively reach out a hand. “Can I...?”

Jack grinned. “Go ahead! He don’t bite!”

“Jack I WILL kill you,” David silently seethed, resisting the urge to glower at his friend, “are you doing this to piss me off or what??”

“Hey, easy...” David hissed in his ear, clutching the big wolf’s scruff, “I’m gettin’ ya some attention! C’mon, give ‘em those big ol’ eyes! Give that stubby tail a shake! Girls love dogs!”

“Awww...” He’s so SOFT!!” Jack moved aside, allowing Anna to run her hands over David’s freshly-trimmed coat, “hey, big guy! You a good boy, huh?”

“This is the most degrading experience of- oh SHIT this girl got hands”

“Enjoy yourself,” Jack smirked as David flopped to the ground with a happy rumble, content to allow Anna to fuss him some more. “See? He’s a big softie.”

Tracy looked over the big werewolf incredulously, like she wasn’t quite sure what she was looking at. “That is one strange dog, if you don’t mind me saying so...”

Jack shrugged. “It’s a strange breed. But hey!” He raised his beer and winked, “he gets the job done! Been my best buddy for- uh, five years!”

She folded her arms, raising an eyebrow as she listened. “That so?”

“Yup!” Jack gestured to the floor, amused as David capsized to allow a grinning Anna to rub at his stomach, “boy’s like a brother to me. Been through everything together.”

“You make him sound like a person,” the dark haired woman said, voice tinged with curiosity. “Like he’s a human being.”

Jack scoffed, rubbing the back of his head and laughing. “Yeah... I guess I just love the big lug like that, right?”

“Oh my gosh!” Before Tracy could respond Anna gasped from below. They looked down to find the blonde woman running her hands over David’s chest, parting the thicker fur that remained there, “what happened to him?”

Jack frowned, David staring pleadingly as Anna felt at the scars... the thick, long-healed scars from that attack on the moors five years earlier.

“He got into a fight with... another dog,” Jack said quietly, hoping the questions would go no further.

“Oh, poor boy... wait...” Jack felt a stab of fear as Anna dug around his buddy’s chest, noting David tensing up as he lay on his back, “what are... what...” Anna reared back in confusion, screwing her face as she rubbed at David’s pectorals. “Are... are these his nipples??”

“Oh fuck,” David whimpered, now attempting to wriggle away from his company. “Jack, get her off me... I wanna go home now...”

“Alright!” Jack spoke loudly, knocking back his drink and setting the glass on the bar. “Lovely to meet you ladies, but David and I gotta shoot.”

“So soon?” Tracy frowned, Anna standing and staring down at David as he righted himself and stayed low.

“Yup! Busy day tomorrow! Very busy!” Jack grinned nervously, voice strained as he grabbed David’s scruff. “And Davy needs his dinner! You’re a hungry boy, ain’t ya buddy??”

“Alright, maybe see you around...” Anna said, still frowning at the werewolf.

“Yes, you and your weird dog with his nipples on his chest...” Tracy muttered, eyeing David with suspicion.

David’s response was to hang his head, all but cowering beneath the girls’ scrutiny. “Alright Davy-boy! Come on!” Jack clucked his tongue, giving the girls a casual two-fingered salute. “Later, girls!”

The two girls watched Jack nudge David on their way, yellow eyes glancing back at them from a black-furred face. Jack and his dog left, the door closing shut behind them.

Anna hissed, turning her attention to her friend. “What kind of dog WAS that?? I’ve never seen anything like it!”

“I don’t know...” Tracy said quietly, staring at the door as she leaned against the bar, “but I don’t think he’s quite... normal.”

“You girls’d be wise to leave those two alone.” Tracy and Anna turned to find the bartender, Carl, accompanying them in their appraisal of the tavern door. A grim expression occupied the man’s face, his hands spread as he leaned to speak to them quietly. “The dog. David. He ain’t any ordinary beast.”

The girls glanced to one another, leaning closer to the old man. “What do you mean?” Anna whispered, “what is he?”

The man cocked his head with a shrug. “Can’t rightly say... but when they showed up ‘bout a year back, people round here knew that creature weren’t anythin’ natural.” He scratched at his beard. “But they settled in, made ‘emselves useful, an’ people were happy ter let ‘em be. Never hurt a soul, far as I’m aware.”

Tracy frowned. “Then why do you say we should stay away? Is the... is David dangerous?”

“Oh, ‘e’s well-mannered enough. Good boy, very friendly.” He released a huff, reached out to take the girls’ now empty glasses. “But some things are jus’ best left alone. David is one of ‘em.” He sighed, giving the door another glance. “Poor boy. Whatever happened to ‘im... ain’t right.”

The girls gave one another a frightened look, and decided to move on for the night.

...

David plodded home with Jack, electing to remain silent both inwardly and outwardly. He glowered at his own front paws, ears flat, miserably tailing the man as Jack led them back to their trailer at the edge of town. Jack let himself in, stepping aside for David and allowing the perpetual werewolf to enter the hideout they called home. “Well...” Jack said, closing the door and clapping his hands, “that went well!” the young man watched as his buddy flopped onto the couch, plopping his head on a pillow. “Aw come on bud, cheer up! They can’t know anything. You’re just a big weird dog, right?”

“Yeah, that’s me all over.” David’s inner voice was bitter, dripping with sarcasm as he glowered down the length of a forelimb. “that’s David Kessler. Just a big stupid weird dog.”

“You know what I mean...” Jack passed the couch, giving David a pat on the shoulder, “you hungry buddy? You want dinner? I got pork n’ beans!”

“Oh great, pork n’ beans. Again. My favourite.”

“That’s the spirit!” Jack flicked on the small television opposite the couch, tossing the remote to his buddy. “I’ll get food goin’. You wanna beer?”

“Sure. Fuck it.”

Jack poured David a beer, setting it on the wonky table in David’s dish, and went to get dinner cooking. He hummed to himself, retrieving three cans of sausage and baked beans and emptying them into a large bowl. He chucked them in the microwave, grabbed a beer for himself, and went to accompany his friend on the couch. “Hey, come on Chewbacca. Shuffle that hairy ass a notch.” David grunted, doing as he was asked and giving Jack some space to sit, his furry black bulk still taking up most of the space. Jack snapped open his beer, resting an arm on David’s rear quarters and scratched through the buzzcut fur. “Hey, you good there buddy? Kinda quiet over there.” David grumbled wordlessly, yellow eyes glowering at the television screen. “Not what I mean, bud. Come on. Talk to me.”

David gabbled, snarling and growling in response, throat and mouth incapable of forming words.

“Don’t be an ass, Wolf-putz. I’m the only guy you can communicate with, you might as well use that.”

David’s head craned down, yellow eyes scowling at him. “You know it DOES upset me when you call me names like that?”

“Okay okay! I’m sorry!” Jack sighed, ceasing his tormenting and leaving David to sulk. “Jeez man, lighten up will ya?”

David glowered into the carpet, ignoring his dish of booze. “I’d love to, Jack. I’d really love to. But for SOME reason it’s kinda hard sometimes, you know?”

Jack stared at his friend as David flopped to the floor, huffing as he rested his chin on his forelimbs. “Sorry man... still bothers you, huh?”

“Course it does, you shmuck!” David snapped, glancing up at his buddy from his position on the couch. “Look Jack. It’s been five years. I’m mostly over it...” he worked a claw into the couch, idly picking at the material, “but sometimes I remember what I am and that I’m stuck like this and... and I can’t do anything! I gotta follow you around pretending to be a weird pet! It’s humiliating, man. And then people start figuring out what I am and... I hate it. I hate being some big, broken freak!” David paused, leaning his head out to lap at his beer, before releasing a huff and curling up. “I don’t even remember what it’s like being human any more, you know that? If I suddenly, miraculously changed back tomorrow, I don’t think I could handle it. I’m not a person any more, Jack! I lost everything...”

It wasn’t often David spilled his guts. He kept to himself, long having resigned to his new life after the boys fled New York. Eventually Jack found it in him to respond, always a little unsure how to handle these rare moments of his friend sharing his miserable thoughts. “Hey... Dave? You remember that night on the moors?”

“Oh, no. Why would I remember that?” David’s inner voice said dryly, the werewolf giving his friend a sour look. “Whatever could have happened??”

“You remember when it attacked us?” Jack gently ran his hand over David’s flank, doing what he could to soothe his buddy. “And you screamed for me to help? What did I do, David?”

David snorted. “You jumped on it and tried killing it with a flick-knife. You crazy shmuck.”

“Hey, come on! It worked, didn’t it?”

David gave him a look. “It broke your nose.”

“Still killed the bitch!”

“The guys from the Slaughtered Lamb shot it with like three double-barrels. After it broke your nose.”

“Well hey, I softened it up for them.” He lightly thumped David on a leg. “And then when we got back home, an’ you changed for that first time? And I stuck by you and helped you keep your head?”

David physically shuddered. “Not gonna lie, kinda glad I never had to go through that again. That wasn’t fun.”

“No, it wasn’t. Pain in the ass smuggling ya outta New York too, Davy-boy. You’re big, you’re hairy, and you were WAY uglier back then!”

David scowled. “What’s your point here, Jack? Am I supposed to be forever indebted to you or something?”

“The point,” Jack replied, locking eyes with David’s, “is I never gave up on you. You’re my best friend, David! I was never gonna let you down! And that’s still true. Don’t matter that I had to leave my life, hit the road and go off the grid, work crappy jobs and stay on the move just trying to keep us both fed and somewhere to live.” He waved a hand around the crappy trailer, a dry grin on his face. “Point is I’m here for you buddy.” He smacked David on the rump, giving the wolf a wink. “I got your back.”

David stared at his friend, expression softening as he lay his head back down. “Thanks, Jack. I wouldn’t be here still if it weren’t for you.”

“You know it, buddy. And hey! We have some fun, don’t we?” Jack’s tone lightened, the young man unflappably optimistic, “Goodman and Kessler against the world! Till the wheels come off!” He clacked his beer against David’s dish. “Cheers, buddy!”

David rolled his eyes, indulging Jack and taking another drink as the man downed his can. His ears raised as a ping sounded from the kitchen and he looked to Jack expectantly. “Go on then, Goodman. Plate up, I’m starved.”

Jack reared his head back in a laugh. “Oh, sure thing your Davidlyness!” He stood and padded off to fix their respective dinners, allowing David to stretch back out on the couch. “You want bread an’ butter?”

“Sure.” David rolled onto his back, head resting on his pillow, nose twitching in anticipation at the smell of the hot food. He frowned. He leaned on an elbow and scowled into the kitchen. “Hey! Did you call me ugly a minute ago??”

“Relax!” Jack’s voice called back, “you look great! Very handsome boy!”

David huffed, glowering as he rested back in his reclined position. “Dick.”

...

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ivyprism · 9 months

Text

Main 16 Outfits: Redone

Lots of outfits!

Classic:

Vanilla:

Navy:

Syrup:

(But Orange!)

Cardinal: Cardinal has two golden teeth. One on each side of his mouth. His jacket is red and black.

Captain: Captain has a single scar on his eye. He wears more red and black accents.

Clove: He has a large crack on the top of his skull. He also has a red eye light and a white eye light.

Cinnamon: Cinnamon has a slight scar on his eye and his teeth have been long fixed! So they look almost normal, but his canines are sharper.

Caramel: His outfit has pink accents like his eyes.

Glamour: His outfit has purple accents like his eyes.

Hip Hop: His outfit is more blue in color.

Latin:

Rhythm: Rhythm has a single golden tooth in comparison to Cardinal. His hoodie is red and black.

Tango: Tango has two scars on his eyes.

Hound: Hound has a single gold tooth compared to Cardinal. He has more red with his outfit.

Ebony: Ebony has three scars on his left eye. He has more red in place of the purple.

---

Undertale by Toby Foxx

Underfell by Underfell Fan (adopted by Fandom)

Underswap by Popcorn Pr1nce

Fellswap Carnelian is my AU.

Swapfell by Kkhoppang

Dancetale by Teandstars

Dancefell belong to unknown

Alluretale is my AU.

@kioko-noodles / @kiokodoodles @miscneilleaneous @und3rwat3r-a5tr0naut @hearty-dose-of-ranch @underfell-crystal @buff-borf-bork @the1920sisntaphasemom

#First part of my outfit redone series #dancefell #dancetale #underswap #undertale #horrortale #ut au headcanons #ut au imagines #undertale au headcanons #undertale imagines #undertale headcanons #alluretale #fellswap carnelian

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cordeliaflyte · 1 year

Text

#tally ho

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pettyprocrastination · 2 years

Text

She’s all fire and flint.

Brimstone in her blood and rage in her veins.

She looks at everyone and everything as if it has wronged her, as if every rock and toad and blade of grass owes her some due.

A complete coincidence that you named her Lilith, but a suitable name nonetheless.

Her brother is softer, calmer.

He stares at the world with an eternal wide eyed wonder, from when he wakes up to when he goes to bed. As if everyone and everything is a miracle and he is blessed to be in their presence.

Samael, the name before the fall, when the adversary was still His favorite.

Poison of God, his wrath given form, his hand as his sword as his shield.

You thought it was funny, and the safer option, considering naming your child Lucifer might be seen as some sort of cruelty.

Her father arrives himself, cowed by the glare of a mortal woman short on sleep and even shorter on patience.

“It was not supposed to happen,” he says, “the world does not need my help in ending.” By then you’d had coffee and you let yourself laugh.

“Do I need to worry about big black dogs? Crows? Her preschool teacher jumping from the roof at a birthday party?”

He laughs for you in turn, and the vague memory of the spark that started all of this comes to the surface.

“No, nothing so gothic.”

He takes a sip of his own drink, more cream and sugar then coffee.

The Devil has a sweet tooth.

“She may know things, she may compel things, but she cannot take* things.”

You hum in understanding, consent is king in the mortal plane, the perks of free will to be sure.

“I didn’t ask for her, and you sure didn’t offer.”

He grimaces.

“I may still be divine by nature, but it has been… tarnished.”

He shifts his weight, pulling a flask from the inner lining of his jacket and topping off his slight coffee concoction.

This is a delicate topic for him.

You wait.

“When pure divinity gets involved…” he drifts off, and even as he tries to hide it there is a flicker of jealousy across his features.

“He just told me his name, maybe he was under the impression that if I believed you, I’d make the same conclusion with him.”

Old Scratch huffs like an irritated blood hound.

“They do not understand humanity, their purpose and a their flaw.”

You tilt your head, thinking it over, but already understanding.

“So what about Sammy?”

He cringes at the name, it seems he already knows what it is short for.

“The same as Joshua most likely.”

“Not as oily I hope.”

It takes him a second, but he actually giggles when he understands.

“Maybe in his teen years but hopefully not beyond that.”

You chuckle along, finger idly skating around the rim of your coffee mug.

The silence is comforting.

“Do you want to hold them?”

His back straightens, and you’d say you’ve just put the fear of god in him if you didn’t know better.

“I-“

A knock on your door.

The air shifts, and you know there is only a piece of reinforced wood between a pair of brothers more then ready to come to blows.

“Was it too much to hope they’d come around tomorrow?”

He gets up and is at the door before you can even plant your feet to stand, and it opens with a bang that he is definitely going to be paying for.

It’s not Michael, you wouldn’t be able to keep it together for a slew of reasons if it was, but Gabriel.

They don’t look anything alike, not an iota, but there’s a familiarity to the hostility that can only come from too big a family existing for way too long.

“If you’re here to give me some sort of spiel, can it wait until tomorrow?”

The angel breathes in, deep and unnecessary.

“Are you safe?”

Completely ignoring his former brother and instead directing his question to you, the implications of it are obvious as well.

“As safe as a single mother to the second coming and the antichrist can be.”

They both pull a face, some disgust, resentment, a bit of a cringe.

You’d laugh if the tension didn’t make the action feel dangerous.

“Humanity is all about free will, right?”

They both nod, like a set of children being scolded.

“Then leave me be, I may ask for advice, I may ask for a spare set of hands, I may ask that someone fireproof the property, but until then, I am fine.”

Lucifer nods, flickering out of existence like a blown out candle.

Gabriel stays and stares.

“What?”

“This is not what was meant to happen.”

You roll your eyes, “That’s the thing about free will though isn’t it? Ruins all your grand plans.”

With an assortment of faces you can’t entirely interpret, the messenger vanishes as well.

There is a moment of calm and silence before someone starts crying, and once one starts the other isn’t usually far behind.

Sighing, you close your door, and head to the nursery to find out who needs a diaper change.

~~~~~~~~~~~

I see the antichrist wears spider-man bandaids and raise you.

the antichrist wears spider-man bandaids and her brother wants his Batman blankie.

~~~~~~

NOTE THIS IS SO PERFECT I LOVE I LOVE

#submission #the angels being involved in their sort of neice and nephew out of concern for not only the second coming of god but also the antichrist #but also prolly like 'ah fuck am i an uncle??'#lil BABIEEESSSS #note tag

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