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starry-bi-sky · 17 days

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Stuck in the middle of a forest made of

Flesh and bones and they're all scared of

A lost little boy who has lost his heart

Fear's not enough, they have to

Tear him apart —-------

There are two things Daniel Fenton knows that his family knows as well:

He’s adopted.

He can’t remember anything else before that.

‘Adoption’ is a loose term, implying that they went through the official legal processes and troubles of adopting a child into their home willingly, and with the full intention of doing so going into it. That is not what happened. What happened is that Jasmine Fenton found a half-dead child, in strange clothing, in the middle of the woods at her Aunt Alicia’s cabin, and then she went and got her parents.

What happened is that a twelve year old Danny woke up in the same cabin, wearing clothes much too big on him that didn’t belong to him, and with very little memory of before that moment. He wakes up like a spring being set loose, sitting up so fast he scares the daylights out of Jasmine Fenton sitting next to him. He wakes up, reaching for his sleeve for something that isn’t there, and when it isn’t his mind stutters, like he’s tripped at the top of a steep hill.

When they ask him for his name, he tells them, clearing muddled thoughts from his mind; Danny. He’s twelve.

(He thinks that’s his name, at least. It sounds right; it feels right. If he thinks really hard about it, he thinks he can remember someone calling him that, utter adoration in their voice. So it must be his name.)

The Jasmine girl convinces her parents to take him home with them, and they give him the spare guest room upstairs. He has nothing to fill it with.

It’s… a strange experience, to go to a ‘new’ home when he doesn’t even remember his old one.

The official adoption process… happens. He can’t say it’s easy, or difficult. He’s oblivious for the most of it, Jasmine intends on helping him settle in and Danny can’t say he enjoys the smothering. He learns that he is stubbornly self-independent, that’s one new thing he knows about himself.

His adoption papers say ‘Daniel J. Fenton’. Danny remembers staring at the name ‘Daniel’ for a long, long moment, something curdling sour in his sternum. His name is Danny, that he knows. But it’s not Daniel. But he doesn’t know any other way of saying it, so he keeps his complaints to himself.

(Jack Fenton boisterously claps his hand on Danny’s shoulder and jerks him around, grinning wide as he welcomes him into the Fenton Family. Danny’s mind blanches at the touch on his shoulder, an instinct snapping like the maw of a snake, telling him to cut off the man’s fingers for daring to touch him.)

(He keeps the thought to himself, tension rising up his shoulders the longer Jack Fenton’s heavy hand stays on him.)

They found Danny in the summer. It’s a perfect coincidence, Maddie Fenton says before she goes back into her lab with Jack Fenton. She says it’s enough time to allow Danny to adjust; that they’ll enroll him into the school year in the fall. Then she stuffs a canister of ectoplasm onto the top shelf, and disappears like the ghosts she studies back down the stairs.

(There’s something eerily familiar about the ectoplasm sitting in the fridge, something unsettlingly so. Danny knows what that stuff is, but he doesn’t know where. When the house is empty, he takes a can from the fridge and inspects it.)

Jazz wants him to leave the house. Danny doesn’t want to step foot outside of the FentonWorks building until he has something that quells the feeling of vulnerability he gets whenever he does. He tried to once, and he felt exposed. Unsafe.

He turned back around and went inside.

—-------

Where do we go

When the river's running slow

Where do we run

When the cats kill one by one

—------

One day, when the house is empty — or, as empty as it can be; the Fenton parents down in the lab, and jazz out with friends. Danny is making a sandwich, and he caves into the urge to flip the knife in his hands between his fingers. A childish impulse, but one he falls for nonetheless. It comes to him easily, like second nature, in fact. The slip of the blade between his fingers is seamless, flowing with an ease like water running down the wall.

He’s almost startled by it; his body holds memories that his mind does not. Muscles that know which way to move and twist, limbs that know how to hold and how to throw. He continues twirling it, fascinated, as if he were a scientist discovering a new species of animal.

It’s not for a handful of minutes when a new thought hits him; an impulsive thought that pops in the back of his mind like a firecracker; Danny moves without thinking.

He turns, and throws the knife. The pull of his shoulder, the flick of his elbow, is familiar like a hug. He knows when to let go, and the blade flies through the air in impressive speed, embedding itself into the wall with a hearty, loud thunk. Sinking into the drywall like butter.

Danny stares at it in shock, he feels relieved — about what? — before he feels the guilt. He scrambles across the kitchen to pull it out, heart racing in his chest at being caught, and prays no one notices the hole it left behind.

(He runs up the stairs before anyone can find him, food forgotten, and hides the knife beneath his mattress like a guilty murder weapon.)

After that, he leaves the house more. It’s more out of fear of being caught than the desire to leave. But Danny is quickly learning that among all things, he is someone who was dangerous, before he lost his memory. Even with his mind in fractures, he is still dangerous.

He’s not sure how to feel about that — he thinks he should be scared. He feels a little proud, instead.

—------

Hazel beneath our claws

While we wait for cerulean to cry

Unsettled ticks run through time

Enough for the hunt to go awry

—-----

There’s another thing he learns about himself. That he knows about since he woke up. He knows that he left someone behind. He doesn’t know who, but he knows they must have been close; he’s always looking down and finding himself surprised when the only shadow he sees is his own.

He thinks that he must have sung to them a lot; he finds himself humming familiar melodies when he’s lost in thought. Lullabies lingering at the tip of his tongue, an instinct to turn and sing them to someone beside him. He can’t remember the lyrics, but his mouth does, it tries to get him to say them when he’s not thinking. He can’t.

Danny’s found himself humming under his breath more times than he can count, trying to recall whatever it is his mind is trying to claw forward.

(“That’s a pretty song, Danny.” Jazz tells him at breakfast one day, Danny screws his mouth shut. He hadn’t realized he was humming. “What is it?”)

(Something mean and possessive rears its head on instinct, uncoiling like a snake from its ball. His shoulders hunch defensively, he bites his cheek to prevent himself from baring his teeth. He doesn’t know what song it is, but it’s not for her. “I don’t know.”)

He misses his person. Dearly. He knows, the longer he is without them, that they must have been close. Otherwise, he wouldn’t feel like he’s missing a chunk from himself. He wouldn’t be turning to someone who's not there; reaching for a hand that’s missing, birdsong on his tongue, a story to tell.

A dream haunts him one night. Warm and familiar, he’s holding onto someone smaller than him, they’re tucked into his side like a puzzle piece. He’s humming one of his songs that is always playing in the back of his mind, an unfinished tale of a harpy and a hare. Danny can’t remember their face, not all of it. He remembers green eyes, hair dark like his own, skin brown like his.

He loves them more than anything else in the world, a fact he knows down to his soul. He loves them so much it fills his heart with sunlight. Danny squeezes them tight, nuzzling into their hair; he makes them laugh. Then, he proudly boasts something. That when he takes something of their father’s, that his person — a sibling? That feels right — will be… the word fades from Danny’s mind before he can make sense of it.

His person hugs him tight, his… brother? And their mother — a woman whose face he can’t remember either, but who he loves like a limb nonetheless — appears, smiling. Her hands reach for them both, voice calling them, ‘her sons’. There’s ticking in the distance, it sounds like the fastening of chains.

Danny wakes up cold, tears streaming down his face. The details of the dream already fading from his mind like the cold pull of a corpse.

—-------

Harpy hare

Where have you buried all your children?

Tell me so I say

—-------

When school starts that Fall, Danny joins the sixth grade class, and quickly learns more things about himself. One of those things being that he’s smarter than the rest of his grade, whatever education he had before, it was better than the one he’s getting now.

Everyone knows he’s adopted right off the bat. He tells them when the teacher forces himself to introduce himself, but it’s not like they needed him to tell them for them to know; he never existed in their little world before now, and the Fentons are pale as they come. Danny is not.

He befriends Sam Manson and Tucker Foley; they ask him about the scars fading up and down his arms, they ask him about the scar carved diagonal across his face.

Danny, as politely as he can, tells them he doesn’t remember. He thought kindness would come second nature to him, his dream burned into his mind where he hugged his brother so sweetly. Apparently, his sweetness is only second nature to people he considers his own.

(It becomes even more apparent when Dash Baxter tries to bully him later that day, and Danny ruffles like an eagle threatened. His mind whispers, hissy and agitated, sinking like a shadow at his shoulder, several different ways Danny could kill him for talking to him like that, and fifteen more ways he could cripple him.)

(Danny ignores those thoughts, up until Dash Baxter tries to grab him. Then he breaks his nose on the wood of his desk. It’s easy how quickly the rest of his grade sinks him down to the status of social pariah.)

(At least Sam and Tucker still talk to him after that. When Danny goes to the principal’s office later, he wisely doesn’t mention the worse things he could’ve done than break Dash Baxter’s nose.)

—--------------

It clicks and it clatters in corners and borders

And they will never

Hear me here listen to croons and a calling

I'll tell them all the

Story, the sun, and the swallow, her sorrow

Singing me the tale of the Harpy and the Hare

—-------

More dreams come, of course they do. Each one halfway to forgotten whenever he wakes up, ticking faint in his ears. He is many different ages. He is young, shorter than a table. He is older, holding onto his little brother. He is singing in almost every single one. He is singing to his brother.

Danny can barely remember the lyrics, he’s begun leaving a journal by his bedside so that it’s the first thing he can write down when he wakes up. He’s a storyteller, he learns. He feels like a historian, trying to piece together a culture long dead and forgotten.

His most vivid dream-like memory is not a happy one, and for once he’s almost relieved he barely recalls it. He is somewhere that isn’t home, but his mother and brother are there. He is dressed in black, blades keen in his hands.

They are atop a moving train. They are fleeing something. His brother is struggling to keep up, he is small, and young. It’s beautifully sunny, they are somewhere green and lovely.

It is a fast dream.

His brother stumbles on something, and Danny, fast as a whip, snatches him by the back of his shirt and hoists him up to his feet before he can fall. “Watch your feet, habibi.” He murmurs low, a hand on his back. It’s hard to hear, there is wind in their ears.

His brother, face obscured in all but his eyes, which are green as emeralds, nods.

The dream blurs, but Danny falls behind. His foot catches on air — impossible, it should’ve been, at least. He never trips. — and he lands against the roof with a thud and a grunt. His mother and brother stop, and turn for him.

The train hits a turn before Danny can get up, and he shouldn’t have, something pulls on him, he swears, but he slips. He can’t find the purchase to pull himself up, cold fear hits him as his nails scrape against the metal.

His mother and brother’s horrified faces are the last thing he sees before he disappears off the side of the train.

(The ticking is at its loudest when he wakes up, pounding against his inner skull. He only manages to write down ‘train fall’ in his journal, before he’s flipping over to press his head into his pillow to get the pain to stop.)

—---

She can't keep them all safe

They will die and be afraid

Mother, tell me so I say

(Mother, tell me so I say)

—-------

When Danny is fourteen he is still humming songs he can’t remember, his mind still in a broken puzzle. But his room is now decorated with stars and plants in every corner. He has a guitar he keeps in the corner of his room, and he plays the lullabies in his head on the strings over and over again.

The ectoplasm in the fridge still unsettles him, still reminds him of a past he can’t recall. The knife beneath his mattress has returned to the kitchen — he doesn’t need it. He found a box in the attic last year, it had his name on it, and inside he found familiar, strange clothes, and more weapons than he thought was possible to carry on one person.

(Even without knowing that the Fentons prefer guns to blades, Danny knows, instinctively, that they were his weapons. He was — was? Is — a dangerous person. He takes the box down to his room to sort through. The weapons all fit into his callused hands almost perfectly — the grooves worn to fit his palm. They’re just a little small.)

(He tentatively takes a small blade with him to school one day, and feels much more comfortable with it sheathed beneath his shirt. He’s kept it on him ever since, like he’s reunited a lost limb to himself.)

Danny doesn’t have a name for his person, his little brother, nor does he have a name for his beloved mother. He’s haunted by dreams every few weeks, many of them repeating. He’s ingrained the words he can remember to memory, and the ones he doesn’t, he writes down in his journal. His little brother; Danny calls him a bird, he can’t figure out what kind. His little bird of some kind; when Danny takes something from their father — what, he can’t remember what — then his little brother will be a little bird.

(He doesn’t have a name for his brother, yet, but he’s calling his birdie in his head. It’s better than nothing.)

—------

Seeker, do you ever come to wonder

If what you're looking for is within where you hold

Will you leave a trail for them to follow a path

You'll soon forget

Home

—---------

When he’s fourteen, Danny dies. It does nothing to fix his fractured memories, much to his consternation. It just confirms something he already knows; that he was someone dangerous, and that he still is.

When the shock of death has worn off, Danny inspects his ghost in the metal reflection of the closest table. It’s blurry, hard to see, but shock green eyes pierce back at him, green like the portal. Lazarus, Danny’s mind whispers, and he blinks rapidly.

‘Lazarus,’ he mouths to himself. It’s familiar. Sam shows him with her phone what he looks like, joking that he looks like an assassin. Danny doesn’t think she’s that too far off.

He doesn’t tell her that. He tucks the thought away with the rest of his secrets, and fiddles with the hood gathering at his neck, attached to a cape with torn edges swinging down to his ankles. He pulls it over his shock white hair. It shadows over his face impossibly so, until all you can see are his green-green eyes peering out like a wolf hiding in the brush.

He ends up calling himself Phantom.

(Maybe now he can start putting lyrics to his lullabies; his memories may not have returned, locked away with the sound of a clock, but the dead can talk. One of them may just have answers.)

----------

Home is where we are

Home is where you are

Home is where I am

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

Dedicated to @gascansposts for being the one who introduced me to the band Yaelokre, and thus being the whole reason I was inspired to write this in the first place >:] Those lyrics at the line breaks are all from their album Hayfields.

#dpxdc #dp x dc #danny fenton is not the ghost king #dp x dc crossover #dpxdc crossover #dpdc #danyal al ghul au #amnesiac danyal al ghul au #songs in order of the album: the hartebeest / harpy hare / and the hound / neath the grove is a heart #musician danny has my heart and soul #yes this danyal IS an alternative danny from the other au. an au where things were a little better :) but still sucks #implied good mom talia al ghul #danyal is a momma's boy send tweet #dpxdc ficlet #dpxdc prompts #dp x dc au #dp x dc fanfic #danyal is sTILL five years older than damian in this au #no beta no edits we die like danny fenton #poc danny fentons #i didnt know where to end this :(( i was gonna go on but i blanked. i thought about going into his relationships with his rogues and so on.#but that felt too much like trying to just increase the word count rather than actually writing?? if that makes sense #ugh im gonna have forgotten to include things and im gonna be kicking myself later #morally ambiguous danny whoo! we love to see it #since this was just for fun it doesnt really go into it all that much other than like. it happens. and that danny realizes he's dangerous #phantom in a hazmat suit? nah phantom looking like an assassin >:].#danyal al ghul with damian and his mom: 🥰🌸✨#danyal al ghul with everyone else: 👹🔪#am i heavily implying that clockwork had smth to do with Danyal’s amnesia and appearance by the cabin? 👀 maybe #not enough danyal al ghul aus where him being an assassin actually. has some kind of affect on him

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mediumgayitalian · 9 days

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The crooked, creaky door of the cluttered infirmary storage room pushes open and slams shut in the span of a second, just barely allowing someone to dart through. Nico jumps, banging his head on the shelf he’s hiding under, chomping full force on his lip to bite back a shout. The shadows, on lucky reflex, bend around him and shroud his face. The rest of him he tucks further into the forgotten corner between two filing cabinets, holding his breath.

Under the unflattering light of the single swinging lightbulb, Will looks dull.

A thin headband attempts to hold back his frizzy hair, although it does very little. Curls stick out oddly and many shorter hairs are plastered to his temples and the back of his neck. His skin is unusually lacklustre, even pale, except for the high flush around his cheekbones. The bruising under his eyes rivals Nico’s. He has been wearing the same scrubs for the last two days.

With one last look at the closed door, nothing but garbled voices filtering through the heavy wood, he slumps. He drops his face into his chapped and bleeding hands, heels pressed into his eyes, and holds them there for ten seconds, twenty. Slowly, with trembles so minute they are at first glance unnoticeable, his shoulders begin to shake. The long fingers flexed and tensed around his forehead curl tightly, and he twitches, whole body trembling, teeth sunk hard into his bottom lip to stop his chin from quivering.

It does not work.

The first sob is quiet. He catches it quickly, forcing it back down, breathing heavily through his nose and out his mouth to beat it back. The second follows quickly, though, and it’s harder to choke down. When his face crumples, his resolve goes with it, and his knees hit the floor, sharp crack swallowed by the stillness of the room. He curls forward until his nose nearly hits his knees, hands sliding through his hair and over his ears and settling finally clutching together in the dip of his chest, bouncing with every heave of his chest. It’s quiet, his crying, enough that every dropped tear can be heard as it hits the dusty floor. The only time his sobs are ever audible is when he opens his mouth, trying desperately to soak up enough air to catch himself, to carry himself through.

Mute horror holds Nico’s tongue hostage.

He’d escaped in here the second Will had been called away this morning, dragged for the umpteenth time to handle a crashing patient or a complicated hymn or to soothe someone’s nerves. For the past two days he’s been doing his best to monitor Nico and a handful of other front liners who’d exhausted themselves in battle, but his focus has been split and the infirmary has been crowded. Whenever he runs off to put out whatever fire had cropped up — sometimes literally — the whispers start, the glances, the skin crawling up Nico’s back. Nico can hardly tell anymore what’s the shadows and what’s the people around him, watching him out of the corners of their eyes like they’re waiting for him to bust out a scythe and a black hooded cloak and start reaping.

The storage room is supposed to be an escape. Out of the way and forgotten as it is, it is supposed to be the place he can hide for an hour, escape the heavy gaze of the rest of the camp, collect himself before braving it all again.

Clearly, though, he’s not the only one who thinks so.

There’s something disorienting about seeing Will Solace cry. In the few times Nico has spoken with him during his visits to camp, he’s been a barely-contained explosion of energy, whether talking Nico’s ear off with updates about people he barely knows and references he hardly understands or cussing him out for overextending himself. He’s used — as much as he can be to someone he’s only beginning to really get to know — to his wildly flailing hands and widely playful grin, his loud drawling voice, his painful, constant brightness.

His hands, now, clench until they’re bloodless, trembling. There is no hint of his wide smile or twinkling eyes, because his face is hidden by all the hair that his given up on the pretence of the hairband, and the only sound from him are his gasping breaths and swallowed-back sobs. Nico watches him because he cannot look away. He flinches because every cry, every rough, scraping inhale, sounds like shattering rock, like an iceberg breaking off a glacier.

A quiet beeping startles them both.

For a stretch of time Will is motionless. The beeping continues, steady and soft, bouncing off the cluttered shelves and fading before they echo. After the third round — and Nico counts, if anything for something to do besides watch the chafed skin on Will’s hands crack and bleed with every flex — he drags himself upright, nails drawing lines in the thick dust of the floorboards, and rests back on his heels. He breathes for a moment, shuddering, hands pressed flat to his face; in, beep, beep, beep; out, beep, beep, beep. None of his breaths are ever steady, but he wastes no more time, swiping under his eyes and pinching his cheeks to restore his face to some of its usual colour. He grips onto each board of the shelf to his right as he yanks himself upwards, hand over hand, until he’s stretched, finally, to stand, although there remains a slouch to his broad shoulders.

The beeping continues, emanating from the watch on his left hand, growing softer or louder as he trails his fingers over the shelves from one end to the other, from the first, the second, the third. He pauses finally on a collection of bottles, turning them carefully to read the labels, then tucks them each gently into his already bulging pockets until he is left with what he must carry between his fingers.

The shadows bend to cover Nico again as Will turns, unknowingly facing him, and pulls himself suddenly straight-backed, chin set high, shoulders squared. He smiles, wide, fractured, squinting his eyes deliberately. The beeping stops. He breathes, in, smile, out, nod, and turns, striding, back to the door, opening it with flourish and swiping the dust off his clothes.

“Found them! Sorry it took so long, I really had to look —”

The door swings shut behind him, cutting off the rest of his sentence.

Nico stares at it with bile churning in his too-empty stomach.

———

art by the incredible @clingonlikeclingwrap

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cemeterything · 5 months

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finished reading the irl james fitzjames biography. i enjoyed it but i'm unsure how i feel about the author's choice to write it like an essay length effort to convince me to agree to go on a date with his friend who he's wingmanning for.

#🐉#maybe i just have problems but it felt like the author was trying SO hard to suck this guys dick #speaking as someone who has a phd in sucking jfj dick #i wish i had a physical copy so i could write HES NOT GOING TO FUCK YOU every time it got particularly egregious

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kenobihater · 2 months

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of all the star wars movies, which of them do y'all 1) enjoy the most 2) consider the best quality and 3) think you've rewatched the most. add your answers in the reblogs or replies, i'm genuinely curious how much of an overlap there is within everyone's three answers. mine don't overlap at all! they're revenge of the sith, empire strikes back, and the force awakens :^)

#len speaks #star wars #revenge of the sith #empire strikes back #the force awakens #not tagging more films than that bc i cant b bothered. incoming tag ramble ahead bc i have sw brainrot rn and im making it everyones prob❤️#i rlly struggled 2 remember if id watched tfa or aotc more. i went w/ tfa bc it was formative to me as a teen and ive seen it probably 6ish #times? whereas aotc was the first sw movie i remember (specifically the scene of obiwan serving c*nt in the bar lmao) but i've only seen it #for sure 4.5 and maybe 5.5 times. the .5 is from when i got bored after obi-wan's scene ended and ran off to go play in the mud or smthn 😭#i'm sure tfa will eventually get surpassed in number of rewatches by aotc and rots bc i don't fw the direction of the ST but that's my #current ballpark estimate of my total number of rewatches #as an adult tho if i just wanna watch a star war i'll go with aotc bc it's fun and ends semihappily and i can turn my brain off for the #spinny lightsabers. it's great background noise or for if you're sick or whatever. rots on the other hand? i won't talk through that unless #i'm quoting it with my brother and i am LOCKED IN 100% entirely entranced by it all #i almost picked rogue one for the best quality answer but i think the character writing is weaker and the facial cgi is creepy. esb beats #it by a hair imho bc of that. the vader hallway scene goes hard tho!!!#also i'm not covering shows or games or books or anything else in this post - simply the films. might ask abt shows later but that might #also give me hives bc so many of the shows suck ass and i don't rlly want ppl extolling the virtues of t.bb in my notes 💀#and yes i do think one's enjoyment and one's opinion of quality are two things that often overlap. but sometimes you just like something #bad and that's awesome. like rots is the best of the prequels by a large margin and i adore the opening and characters and many of the #scenes but that doesn't mean it's the best star wars has to offer ykwim? it's my specialest most favoritest sw movie but that doesn't blind #me to the dialogue lmfaooo

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pepperpixel · 27 days

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“put me on a pedestal and i’ll only disappoint you

tell me i’m exceptional, and i promise to exploit you

gimme all your money, and i’ll make some origami honey!

i think you’re a joke!!! …but i don’t find you very

fuuuuuuu~nyyy”

More tagr art!!! Assorted stuff this time! Featuring some cute chibi stuff. Some solo gaz’s, a lil uhhh. Comic of an altercation.. and a very belated Halloween pic I started drawing last Halloween and didnt finish lol. Also featuring lyrics from pedestrian at best cuz that song rllly rlly fits my ver of tak lol.

#invader zim #gaz membrane #invader tak #tagr #iz tak #iz gaz #tak #doodles #there toxic yuri!!! they’re all over the place!!! tak is tsundere insane alien who fueled by revenge it’s gonna be rough!#I think. there relationship would slowly grow and develop as gaz is helping tak w all her injuries #but I think they’d end up having a true true falling out sometime after take fully healed and gets her ship back.#and they’d be split up for a few years maybe? idk how long I’d want it to be. but! yeah.#absence makes the heart grow fonder and makes u realize how fucking stupid u are #and eventually they’d reunite and shit would be better lol #I don’t want them to be at each others throats forever that’d suck lol #theyre just definitely are moments where there at each others throats in the beginning #but they r also moments.. where they both feel true belonging and acceptance. like they never have before… and it blows there lil minds…#I also dO want gaz to go into space at some point w tak cuz that’d be fucking awesome #after they reunite again they can go explore the universe a bit #these r all very half baked ideas btw and also my brains mush cuz ive been drawing all day #so please excuse if said ideas suck. also please excuse all the typos lol #I might change my mind on the them separating idk… or maybe make it a shorter amount of time… idk!! I havent thought thru all this shit lol #it’s not like I’m gonna write a story or actually make a comic I’m just drawing random fanart #I don’t need to have all these thoughts all solidified lol

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hailsatanacab · 8 months

Note

For the prompt ask game!

9. Sleep deprivation and/or 37. Secret Relationship and/or 40. Identity reveal/major secret reveal

(I selected a few so you can chose the one that resonates the most.)

For any DPxDC characters. <3

*emerges from a google docs, covered in blood and panting* i did it... it is done.

thank you for the prompt!! because i love a challenge, or because i can't stop myself, i went and did all of them!! for everyone!! everyone is sleep deprived and everyone is revealing secrets ^^'

Danny/Tim, mentioned Jazz/Jason

(๑•́ ₃ •̀๑) enjoy!! prompt ask game

kid napping

“Red Robin, sound off. Status?”

“All good here, Oracle. Everything okay?”

It’s been a slow night, never a good sign. Pent up energy itches under his skin and he stretches when he stands, preparing for whatever Oracle is going to throw his way. It’s going to be something, he can tell.

“Good.” Relief briefly colours her voice answers, before she becomes serious again, keys clacking away in the background. “There’s been a report from Agent A. It appears that one Timothy Drake has been kidnapped and is being ransomed for five million dollars and a helicopter. I’m tracing the call now.”

“A helicopter, too? Kidnappers these days, used to be they just wanted their money and that would be the end of it… a fucking helicopter, wow.” Red Hood scoffs, and Red Robin can’t help but join in the laughter over the comms.

“Doesn’t exactly sound like these are the brightest tools in the shed now, does it, Hood? Wonder what poor schmuck they’ve got instead.” Nightwing says, slightly out of breath.

The smile slips off Red Robin’s face and clammy, cold dread shivers down his spine. A stone settles in his stomach. He wets his lips and clears his throat. “Oracle, can you pull up the CCTV on my apartment near WE? Any closer to tracing the call?”

“Still on the trace, they’re using a jammer. Agent A is cooperating so they should phone back soon, which will help.” she reports, falling into silence as he finds the video feed.

“You know who it is?”

“I hope not.”

It’s tense, he taps his feet on the rooftop, fingers tightening over his grapple as he fights the urge to fly off the roof and check for himself. It better not be him. Please, dear God, don’t let it not be him.

“What are you thinking, Red Robin?” Batman growls through the comms. Red Robin can hear the wind under his words, whipping fast as he no doubt makes his way over to his position.

“I had a, uh, a friend coming over tonight. From behind, he… he could be mistaken for Tim Drake.”

The jokes fall silent, the comms growing serious as they pick up on his tone.

“Well, fuck.”

“Eloquent as always, Hood.”

“Shut up, bat-brat.”

“You were right, Red Robin, it looks like it was your… friend they caught, instead. About two hours before the call came in. I’m following their van now, I should have the destination soon. In the meantime, it looks like they’re heading towards the docks.”

Red Robin throws himself off the building, shooting his grapple as low as he dares to get the fastest swing he can.

They have Danny.

Worry gnaws at his gut even as gravity pulls it into his throat with another swing.

Danny is… And Red Robin means this in the nicest way possible, but Danny is fragile. They haven’t talked about it, but RR knows that Danny has health problems. Something plaguing him since he was young, that’s landed him in the hospital more than once. A weak heart, far too slow to be normal, possibly chronic fatigue—he’s always so tired, falling asleep anywhere he can.

Sometimes, he doesn’t even need to put his head down. Once, when they had gone to the corner store to get some popcorn to enjoy their movie (which Danny had explicitly and repeatedly promised he wouldn’t snore through this time), Danny had rested his head on Tim’s shoulder while they were waiting and he’d just… gone. On his feet, asleep, just like that.

He’d laughed, when Tim woke him up. Apologised. Said Tim made him feel safe enough to fall asleep just about anywhere and—

Red Robin grits his teeth and corrects his course as Oracle updates them with more precise coordinates.

Tim had carried him home that night, piggy-back for four blocks, but by the end of it, he wasn’t tired at all. And that’s another thing, Danny’s just so light. It’s concerning.

They never did watch that movie, but it’s a night that Tim can’t help remembering fondly all the same. They’d ended up rewatching some old sitcom that Danny’s seen countless times but Tim’s never really bothered with, Danny drifting off to sleep again and Tim eventually following him, because… sleep is easy with Danny.

It’s the same for him, he thinks. He can’t explain it, but he feels safe enough to sleep with Danny, too.

He needs to be alright.

“So… Is this friend just a friend? Or a friend friend?”

“A friend, Nightwing. Now hurry up.”

He’s not in the mood to play these games, not now. There’s a reason why none of them know about Danny, and this is one of them. His family, as much as he loves them, are just too damn nosey for their own good.

“You know that doesn’t answer my question at all.”

“Then why don’t you ask something intelligible, rather than continue with your childish antics?” Robin snarks, and for once, Red Robin has to agree with him. Or, rather, he’s grateful for the distraction that it gives him.

Tim has secrets. He’s sure that Danny does, too, and so far—aside from the standard background check he always runs on new friends and friend friends alike—he’s done very well to respect them. He just can’t say that his family would do the same.

They can be overwhelming, to say the least, and Tim has tried his best to protect Danny from that.

Only to fail to protect him in every other way that it counts.

“How long have you guys been ‘friends’?”

“Nightwing, save it, please.”

“What’s his name?”

He ignores him.

Red Robin lands on the building first, thank goodness. He wastes no time in finding a skylight that can be pried open fairly quietly, slipping inside without a second thought.

“Wait for backup, Red Robin, that is an order!” Batman says, when he lets them know he’s in.

“Negative, Batman. I’m getting him back.”

“Red Robin!”

He weaves silently through the desks on the second floor of the warehouse, always moving, always keeping a trained eye on the shadows around him.

When he reaches the stairs, he hears voices.

“Looks like three of them, armed. The-the hostage is tied to a chair in the middle of the room, he…” Red Robin takes a steadying breath. The person has a burlap sack over their head is slumped to the side, from where he is, Red Robin can’t see if his chest is moving. There’s blood on the floor. “He needs medical assistance. Another two on the northside entrance.”

The comms explode in admonitions, everyone pleading with him to stay where he is, to wait for help, but fuck that. With a tap, he switches them off and he can finally, just about make out the words of the kidnappers as he creeps down the first few steps.

“—shouldn’t he have woken up by now?”

“I don’t know, man, you’re the one that hit him! Do you think he’s—”

“No! I didn’t even hit him that hard, I swear!” the man cries, holding his hands up in surrender. “I just couldn’t take any more of his stupid jokes!”

If there was any doubt in Red Robin’s mind that they picked up Danny by mistake, it’s gone now. Yeah. If you get Danny, you get his stupid jokes, too.

He creeps closer.

There’s some storage crates between him and Danny, if he can get behind there without being seen then that leaves him in a good position for when whoever’s next in takes out the guys at the front. He can’t do anything without them gone first, not without risking them taking shots inside and endangering Danny.

The man that hit Danny circles round behind him and grabs at his hands.

“What are you even doing, Pat? Who gives a shit, leave him alone.”

“I’m just checking! I just gotta see!”

“Fuck’s sake, guys, who cares? We just gotta get our money, that’s it—”

“And our helicopter!”

“And our—”

“Shit, I can’t find a pulse! Shit, Frank, I killed him, I—”

Jason told him once that when the Pits overtook him, he used to see green. Instead of blacking out, he’d be swimming in that putrid Lazarus colour and he’d slip into that rage and bad things would happen.

He’s heard of people seeing red, too, but really, he thinks that’s more of a literary device.

Tim doesn’t see anything aside from his targets.

A barrage of birdarangs take the guns from the guys at the front, the three around Danny startling badly enough that the guy that kil—that’s behind Danny—stumbles, losing his footing.

Only one of them shoots.

Amateurs.

There’s a round of curses on the comms as the shots come through. Oracle must have turned them back on.

“Fucking hell—Nightwing and I are at the front, Red Robin, don’t worry about them.”

Red Robin’s barely listening.

He spins, kicking the largest guy in the stomach hard enough so that he doubles over, wheezing. Following through the movement, another kick lands on the side of his head and he’s down.

The second one, Frank, gets his wits about him and raises his gun, spraying wildly. He’s a shit shot, going wide in panic, and Red Robin simply ducks and rushes forward, keeping low. Tackling the guy, he grabs the gun off of him and uses it to smash him across the face, once, twice, three times, before he stops moving.

“Oracle, get police and paramedics on scene, now.” Batman says, the displeasure in his voice evident. “Red Robin, Robin and I are coming in from the top.”

Pat hasn’t even made it up off the floor yet, scrambling backwards, fear plain on his face.

Red Robin stands, breathing heavily, gun still in hand.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I swear I didn’t mean to do it! Please—please, don’t, please!”

Red Robin doesn’t kill.

Well, no, Red Robin doesn’t normally kill.

No, that’s not quite right, either.

Red Robin has killed. Red Robin will more than likely kill again. Red Robin sees no problem with killing.

The gun is up, pointing towards the guy without any real thought about it.

Footsteps rush behind him, the familiar heavy footfalls of Batman and Robin, so he doesn’t bother turning around. The gun follows the guy as he keeps pulling himself backwards, snot and tears mingling down his face.

“Red Robin,” Batman says, softly.

It’s always weird hearing Batman’s voice like that. It’s not the first time, obviously—Batman can’t use his scary intimidating voice on victims or children, after all—but having it used on him is weird.

“Breathe.”

“He’s dead. They killed him.”

If hearing Batman’s voice was weird, Red Robin can’t even recognise his own.

Distantly, he realises he’s dissociating. There’s a tightness in his chest, it’s hard to breathe, a growing buzz drowns out any noise in his ears and he can’t think, he can’t—

A heavy hand squeezes his shoulder, jolting him out of his thoughts. Batman reaches around and gently removes the gun from his grip, and Tim feels the instant loss of it. He should have done it, why hadn’t he done it?

Robin takes care of the last man, his crying cut off by a swift kick to the head. Nightwing and Red Hood join them, zip-tying the men on the floor and starting to drag them back to the entrance of the warehouse one by one.

No one says a word.

Shrugging off Batman’s hand, Tim moves towards the chair.

Shaking, he takes a deep breath and removes the sack. The small part of him that was left hoping it wasn’t him, it couldn’t be him, please dear God let it not be him, shatters.

Even dead, he looks peaceful.

Tim’s seen death. He’s no stranger to it, he’s seen what it can do to a person. There’s some blood coagulating over his eyebrows, but otherwise, he looks peaceful. Is that comforting? That he didn’t suffer?

Danny’s head lolls to the side as the sack comes completely away, his hair flopping over his eyes. Tim’s been on at him to get a haircut lately, he thinks it’ll be nice tidied up a bit, just on the sides. It’ll get rid of that permanent bedhead. Help him with job interviews, he’s got to be thinking about that now that he’s in his last year of college.

It’s about the only thing that’ll hold him back, Tim thinks. Danny’s brilliant. Any employer would be a fool to turn him down because of his shaggy hair, but employers are stupid so it makes sense to put your best foot forward and—

Tim falls to his knees.

Fuck.

He’s dead, he’s really—Danny’s skin is horribly pale, cold to the touch. Gone is his bright, cheerful smile.

“Danny, I’m sorry, I’m so, so sorry, I—”

He stops himself with a deep, shuddering breath. He can’t break down here, he can’t, he can’t, he can’t.

Instead, he tips forward to rest his head in Danny’s lap, arms curling around himself. They were too late. They got here as fast as they could and they were too late.

“Danny, I’m so sorry…” he whispers. “I… I love you, I love you, I’m sorry.”

Dimly, he can feel the others standing around them. Someone crouches down beside him, resting a comforting arm over his back, but he doesn’t turn his head to see who it is. He squeezes his grip on Danny’s legs tighter.

“Come on, baby bird. Let’s—”

They’re interrupted by a huge, honking snore as Danny jerks himself awake.

Tim’s head snaps up, staring at Danny with wide eyes.

“You were asleep?” Red Robin springs up, several different emotions rapidly flip flopping through him.

“Wha… What?” Danny heaves a yawn, blinking blearily down at him. “Sorry, I’m just… they were shit kidnappers, man, really boring. Honestly, worst abduction yet.”

“You were asleep? I thought you were dead!”

“Not mutually exlusive, you know.” Danny says through another yawn. He rolls his neck around with an almighty crack and glances at everyone. “Didn’t think I’d warrant the whole Bat brigade, though…”

“The kidnappers thought they had Tim Drake.” Batman supplies, while Red Robin tries to work through the emotional whiplash.

“Ah, makes sense… wait.” Danny sits up suddenly, squinting at Red Robin. “Did you say you loved me?”

“No, of course not, why would I—”

“Tim? Is that—are you—are you Red Robin?”

“Everyone, hold the fuck up!” Red Hood shouts from the other side of the warehouse, having finished securing the perps to a streetlight outside. “Double R is dating Danny fucking Nightingale?”

Well, there goes his identity… Oh, who’s he kidding, Danny’s smart. There’s no way he could have salvaged that. This was not how he thought the night was going to go.

“Cranberry, is that you?” Danny twists in his chair, somehow delighted to see Red Hood rescuing him, too. “I thought I smelled you lurking about!”

“Shut it, you little shit. Since when were you dating this dweeb?”

“I’m sorry,” Red Robin pleads, hands in the air to try and slow down the onslaught of information and insults, “you two know each other?”

“Cranberry?” Nightwing echoes, looking as lost as Red Robin feels.

“Yeah, Cranberry—The Cranberries—zombie, zombie, zombie-ie-ie. Obviously. Also he’s wearing a big, fuck off red helmet.”

“Yeah, sure, makes sense.”

It’s about the only thing that does.

“And please don’t call my boyfriend a dweeb, Cranberry. Especially when he just said he loves me for the first time.”

“He only said it because he thought you were dead.”

“I am dead, so it counts.”

“Only half, so I’d say that puts you at a solid ‘like’. Tim’s—and savour this, Tim, because I’m only going to say it once—Tim’s intelligent, so I’m sure he’ll come to his senses soon.”

Danny just throws Red Hood such a shit-eating grin. A level of feral that Tim’s only seen before in Damian.

“That’s what I used to say about Jazz, too.”

Hood scoffs in offence, and to be honest, Tim’s not sure where he should go from here. What the hell is happening, how do they know each other?

“Come on, is anyone going to untie me or am I really meeting your family mafia-style?”

“Do it yourself, Slimer.” Red Hood laughs, crossing his arms.

“Ugh, you suck so much. I’ll fucking slime you, just you wait. Can’t believe Jazz even likes you, I preferred it when she was dating Johnny.”

And then, without Danny doing anything other than muttering obscenities at Red Hood, the ropes fall to the ground. In one swift motion, Danny stands up and stretches himself to his full height of 5’6.

“All of you need to explain, now.” commands Batman, and honestly, Red Robin’s very much on his side of it.

“I can’t believe it… Jason and Timmy are both in secret relationships? That’s… How come no one told me?” Poor Nightwing sounds the most shocked out of all of them. He turns to Damian and clasps onto both of his shoulders. “You’re not secretly dating, are you, D? Please tell me you’re not, please tell me you’re single, please?”

Of course, Robin just clicks his tongue and pushes his hands away. Really, Red Robin doesn’t think that Nightwing’s in any danger of that happening, he’d be surprised if anyone could stand Robin enough to actually date him.

He shakes his head and turns to Danny, who’s staring right back at him, worry clear on his face.

Fuck, he... He's alive. He's really alive.

Tim pulls him into a bone-crushing hug, fingers buried deep in his NASA shirt. Tucking his face into the crook of Danny's shoulder, he laughs wetly with the joy of it. He's alive. He hasn't lost him. He's safe.

“I’m sorry I haven’t told you before now, starshine, but…” Danny breaks the hug and softly pulls away from him to rise on his tiptoes to place a kiss his cheek. The skin burns cold where his lips touch. “I love you, too. Also, you’re gonna wanna sit down. This is going to be a lot.”

#dpxdc #dead tired #anger management #(barely but it's there haha)#dcxdp #hailsatanacrab🦀🦀writes #i'm sorry this has taken a while but also this week has kinda sucked and i'm still pissed off about that #so writing has been a nice little break from that!!!!#i hope you enjoy it!! i'm not fantastic with writing romance/ships so like... hope it's alright haha #also i feel kinda bad about not putting the whole phantom reveal too but like... we get that all that time haha #idk maybe i'll continue it #OH SHIT I FORGOT MY WRITING TAG HOLD ON #must admit - i do like that you can edit the tags now even though the new post maker sucks #anyway!!!!!!! i had this whole bit from danny's pov in the beginning where he just decided to go to sleep but realised that fucking sucked #it was so boring haha #so we got this instead!#hope the emotions came across - i feel like i have a tendency to just go cold and clinical when emotions happen #idk #oh! danny and tim met because danny's a part time barista and when tim ordered his monstrocity of a drink danny just winked and said #'ah the walking dead special coming right up!' and added another three espresso #jason and jazz met before they did though - and none of them knew they were dating the other's family #danny and jason have a bit of a rocky relationship - he's not good enough for jazz!! she deserves way better than some two-bit gangster!!#jason just thinks he's a cute overprotective brother - he really envies their relationship and wishes he could have something like that #he likes to rib danny and tbh danny is really warming up to him too - now that the gross stinky ecto is starting to filter out #(which is thanks to him and jazz - which jason does know about and is extremely grateful for)#(he really does love jazz and is a little bit jealous that tim told danny he loved him first)#(jason goes home that night and dips jazz into a kiss and whispers it into her skin over and over again)#(he loves her he loves her he loves her - and who the fuck is johnny?)#once tim gets over his shock he's doing good! of course he accepts danny there was never any question of that #he meets ellie and then introduces her to kon and the rest of the team and ellie decides she might like to do some superheroing for a bit

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spookygibberish · 18 days

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Dogstock are typical of what are often deemed the ‘evil’ races in many other fantasy works. They were created by some higher force to be slaves, they are carnivorous by nature, they resemble animals other than human in dentition and build. They growl and bite and walk behind.

The Uhasr (a dogstock culture) are descendants of such slave-infantry that was abandoned when the empire that used them to capture the steppes decided the land wasn’t so profitable after all, and more pressing matters drew their attention elsewhere. Like tools left spent on the ground, the unneeded, excess dogstock were left to survive on their own in Hochkiskuph. The native peoples, of course, did not welcome them any more, or see them any less as oppressors when the hand released the lead. To the Hochkiskuph peoples, the Uhasr are a predatory ghost, an echo that consumes them even in absentia. To the Uhasr, one human is much like another, differing in number and equipment, but never in essence. Uhasr are a species of wild animal with a human face. Humans are prey on two legs. Humans smoke and poison uncovered dens on principle, Uhasr abduct and consume men and women and children all the same.

A common trend I have noticed in media which aims to humanize monsters, is that it often relies on passivity. Humanity is contingent upon kindness. The monster that is A Person only so long as they are a harmless thing at heart, something which can be understood and befriended. Their violence is reluctant, their hearts noble. Grace is a concession to the dominated. Only the toothless beast, declawed and pinioned and caged, is one which has earned its personhood. The ontological enemy supersedes the ontological man.

#haven't posted them much (all wips) but been thinking about the sphinxish people in my setting. same world as thrones #different part of the continent like 2 whole seas away #this is inspired by a shitty comic a friend is reading and also thinking some of the writing in the long way to a small angry planet re #hostile aliens really really sucked.#i want to talk abt this more so im posting it if you have thoughts i would like to hear themmmmm #i'm very cynical about this kind of stuff lmao #dogstock #im also reading tollkien rn so im thinking about ORCS #i dont actually like the lotr trilogy all that much but not even bc i think the writing is bad i just think its kinda boring. sorry.#thats not a very interesting reason to not like something i dont even think its not good im just not super entertained. rip #like not saying there is no issue with it at all writing wise there is very much to say abt how it is utterly and uncritically #white good black bad fair elves and dark orcs and shit like that #but i've liked things more that have bigger issues. hi pern. maybe i just like shlock! idk!#rambling. im keyed up hi #the gibberish in spookygibberish

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wildechildwrites · 2 months

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Lucky Charms

Looney Tunes Part Two

Konig/Reader

Word Count: 1.4k

No use of Y/N

Summary: You have some more encounters with König, the mysterious man who lives in your apartment building.

A/N: König being unintentionally terrifying is so funny. He’s shy and he’s a giant murderer for hire, excuse him for constantly throwing off the vibe. Let me know if you want to be tagged in part three!

AO3 Link: Looney Tunes

You've got bags of groceries hanging from your arms, pinching at your skin, precariously balanced, a white knuckle grip on the laundry detergent that's determined to slip through your fingers before you reach your apartment. The man steps on the elevator with you, and you can feel your face heating up as he looks at you.

You haven't seen him since the night he'd kissed you, and you wondered if he thought of you everytime he rode the elevator. You certainly thought of him.

He makes no effort to disguise his staring, looking down at you with a flat expression, taking in your overflowing arms.

"I hate making more than one trip to my car," you say, answering the question he didn’t ask, shrugging as much as you can with your arms full. You swear you see his eyebrow twitch.

Amusement? Irritation? It's impossible to read him. Instead, you drop your gaze, feeling his eyes still on you.

"My name is König." He says abruptly. Your eyes jump back up to his face, and it's his turn to look away as you grin, introducing yourself.

When you go to get off the elevator, he plucks the detergent out of your hand, gesturing silently for some of the bags you carry. He follows you to your apartment soundlessly, placing the bags down outside of your door. You throw your 'thank you' at his retreating form, and he doesn't acknowledge it.

Later, when you're putting away your groceries, you say his name out loud, tasting it on your tongue.

One of the lights in the parking garage is flickering again, and you sigh in annoyance as you look up at it. The apartment complex took months to fix the last broken bulb, so you’re unenthusiastic about the prospects of a quick repair. It puts you on edge, affecting the visibility and giving the garage an eerie feeling.

“It’s just like a horror movie,” you mumble to yourself, attempting to break the tension you feel as you head towards the exit. It’s late, your workday running longer than it should’ve, and you can’t help the itch of anxiety crawling up your spine.

You pass an unfamiliar man, standing still in between some of the cars. His eyes are on you, and you grip your keys tighter in your hand, speeding up. You hazard a glance over your shoulder and find he's disappeared, and your eyes search the parking lot behind you.

Distracted as you are, unfocused on where you're going, you slam straight into a solid wall of a person. You let out a shriek, head whipping back around and nearly fall backwards as you attempt to scramble away. Two solid hands firmly grip your shoulders, preventing you from tripping. König is standing in front of you, and you sag against his hold in relief.

“You scared me!” you exclaim, a hand going up reflexively to your chest.

“You should be more cautious, häschen,” König responds, and you swear there’s the faintest trace of a smile on his face, the subtle quirk of scarred lips. “Most people look where they are walking to, not where they are walking from.”

You let out a sigh and roll your eyes with a smile, the anxiety seeping out of your body. “The stupid flickering light really freaked me out,” you say, gesturing at the ceiling. “And then there was a man staring at me, but he disappeared.” König nods thoughtfully. His hands are still on your shoulders, and there’s a beat as you both stare at each other.

König clears his throat. “I will speak to the complex maintenance about repairing the light. As for your mystery friend–” König pulls back and slides one finger across his throat. You laugh at the joke, even though he’s not smiling.

König insists on walking you back to your apartment despite your objections, and although you know you were just being silly, you’re touched by the gesture.

“Thank you, König,” you say, lingering in the doorway, and something in his eyes seems to sharpen when you say his name.

You're eating cereal on your couch, watching cartoons when you should be sleeping. It's a childish habit, but after a long day, you're feeling sentimental and too burnt out to process anything with substance. Scrolling through your phone, half paying attention, you almost miss the soft knock on your front door.

König is standing outside, his face obscured by something that looks like an executioner's hood. The gear he's wearing makes him seem even more massive, a mountain of a man standing in front of you.

"May I come in?" He asks, his accented voice low, and you're so caught off guard by the request that your jaw drops.

König stares at you and you stare back, contemplating the matter.

You probably shouldn't let him in, this hulking monster in a mask. You don't even know him really, only interacting a couple of times. He's kissed you, and it was a knee buckling, eye rolling kiss, but does that necessarily grant him access to your apartment?

Your logistical side loses when he lets out a sigh, a huff of air that borders on a whine. You step aside, waving him to the couch as you go to the kitchen to grab another bowl of cereal for him. You want to know why he's here unannounced, but you're unwilling to disturb the delicate balance between the two of you, so you say nothing. He pulls off the mask, eyes on the TV.

“Looney Tunes?” he asks, his voice amused. Daffy Duck lets out a shriek in the silence between you two, and you snort.

“Call it a guilty pleasure,” you reply. König’s eyebrow twitches. You offer him the bowl, and his large fingers brush against yours, shockingly warm and rough. His eyes seem to glint at the contact, an almost avian intensity that makes your skin flush.

You sit down a measured distance away from him, and go back to eating your cereal, attempting to display a level of casual that you do not feel. König seems unaffected, sprawled on your couch, crunching away like he does this every night. He's got his boots on still, tacky with a dark liquid you think could be blood.

"Uh… not that I don't appreciate the company…" you begin after a beat of silence, turning to face him. It's the first time you've seen him really smile, and a part of you is unsure if you like it, the almost predatory glint of teeth.

"I just wanted to see if you'd invite me in." He responds to your unspoken question, his voice rumbling deep from his chest, and there's a sharp edge to his words that make the hairs on the back of your neck prickle.

There's a beat, and your expression must tip him off to your discomfort because his eyes widen.

"I didn't mean– I am sorry I misspoke– sometimes my translations are–" he's stammering, and you instantly relax, feeling guilty for your involuntary reaction.

"No! No it's okay I was just… surprised. I'm glad for the company" You say in a rush, your voice unnaturally high. "You're always welcome to come over."

He smiles again, softer than before. His eyes haven't quite lost the cutting focus, but you smile back, relaxing a little as he takes another bite of cereal. You fall back into companionable silence.

It's late, and you're starting to fade, eyes drooping, curled up into yourself. König hasn't moved from his post on the end of your couch, his empty bowl still cupped in one hand, and you drowsily wonder if it's a military habit, the way he sits with perfect stillness. You stifle a yawn, and he glances over at you without moving his head.

"It's getting late," he says quietly. You watch as he rises in one fluid motion, large strides leading him with a seemingly practiced familiarity to your kitchen. He places his dish in the sink and reaches for the soap. You sit up.

"It's alright, I'll wash the dishes tomorrow," you call out, wiping your eyes, and he nods. You stand as he heads towards the door, your legs slightly unsteady.

"Thank you for the cereal," he says quietly, a hand on the doorknob. You think there is a light dusting of pink around his ears, but it's too dark to really tell.

You smile at him. "You're welcome."

König pauses, turning towards you.

You idly wonder if he'll kiss you again. He looks down at you with an inscrutable expression, bringing a large hand slowly up to your face, the ghost of his fingertips skimming your jaw. You let out an involuntary gasp at the contact, your skin electrified, and he drops his hand.

He opens the door, and you notice his fingers are still curled, as if he's cupping the sensation of your skin against his, holding it in his palm.

"Good night little rabbit," König whispers, a silhouette in your doorway. "Catch you later."

○○○●●●○○○●●●○○○

Taglist:

All for you @whos-fran my beloved (the first person to ever ask to be tagged)

If anyone else would like to be on the taglist for part three reply or reblog this post :)

#pls pick up what I'm putting down with catch you later we all know he didnt just seamlessly insert an american phrase into his vernacular #konig/reader #konig cod #konig x reader #konig x you #cod mw2 #cod x reader #konig: do you need me to kill that guy for you? because I'll snap his fucking spine under my boot no hesitation #reader: hehe youre so funny #also I wrote a much darker version of this that I might publish later but some of you make him so mean and it makes me sad #I'm unhappy with how it came out but maybe if I keep writing one day it won't suck

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iaxsl · 2 months

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Modern au where Sanji and Luffy fall in love while Sanji is engaged. Similar to the events of WCI, Sanji is in a forced business marriage. A merger of Germa Tech. and LinLin Industries. Sanji has no feelings of hatred, he accepts since that is what he’s supposed to do, and who knows, maybe he will fall in love with whomever he’s engaged to. At least then, he’ll be able to leave his family. He signs up at a gym after snide remarks from his family about his weight and meets Luffy as he struggles with one of the machines. Luffy is pure sunshine, and Sanji envies that; he seems so free. Luffy is a personal trainer part-time and a semi-pro boxer. As they spend more time together, Sanji starts to realize that he’s falling more and more in love with Luffy (for added drama, he maybe doesn’t tell Luffy that he’s engaged). Luffy falls first; he tells Sanji as such after Sanji cooks for him for the first time (maybe as a thank you, but also as an excuse to spend more time together). Sanji is hesitant, though he feels the same way, but Luffy doesn’t give up. Somehow, Sanji’s family realizes what’s happening, and they find Luffy. They threaten him and attempt to silence him, Luffy fights back and wins (obviously). He goes to talk to Sanji, and Sanji finally tells Luffy everything. Luffy gets upset, not at Sanji, but at his family and wishes he beat up the goons they sent even harder. Luffy and Sanji meet up with the smartest person Luffy knows (Nami), and together, they come up with a solution. Something something, Sanji finally confronts his family and gets together with Luffy.

#picturing Reiju as having left the family years prior and regrets not taking Sanji with her. so maybe there's a scene where they reconnect #anyways pls tell me something like this exists somewhere #or if someone that writes wants to take this then please go for it!! and also let me know so I can read it #tbh could be any sanji ship but I just really love sanlu #sanlu #black leg sanji #monkey d luffy #sanji #luffy #one piece #oh also ->#tw weight #tw body insecurity #the vinsmokes suck

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vvmylove · 1 month

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My Time (18+)

Warnings: no ? mentions of him being mean

1.3k words mainly smut- This is prob the best thing I've written

Y/N looked at Goo in annoyance as he blabbered about money for the 4567th time that day. She was tired of his constant obsession with money and fighting, always too focused on his other interests rather than her. Despite her efforts, he never really noticed her, only seeing her as a friend on the side. Y/N had craved his attention for so long, yet the guy in front of her could not take the hint as he continued on about cash. For the past week she had spent trying to convince him to spend time with her, determined to make him listen instead of chasing money or fighting. Watching him talking about the same topics over and over again bored her.

Goo sat across from her in his luxurious chair, the ugly leather chair he spent a fortune on. Y/N was so sick of it all, knowing she needed to distract him somehow. She had worn an outfit tighter than usual. All she had to do was flaunt what she had, leaning back in the chair as she spread her legs just a little, making herself comfortable. To her surprise, he noticed her shifting in her seat as he took a sip from the drink in his hand. If there was one thing about him, it is that he would never sit without a drink in his hand and that he does notice the little things. A sly smile spreads across his face, placing the drink down. “Is there something I am unaware of?” he snickers.

Y/N knew she had his attention at the moment, the atmosphere changing as both of their eyes were on each other. Lust clouded his eyes as he stared her down, oh how he loved women especially a woman as gorgeous as you in front of him. Thoughts of cash long forgotten as his focus was on you. Despite the fact that his focus was on her body rather than her efforts to engage with him, Y/N couldn’t help but feel a sense of achievement. Maintaining the position that initially caught his attention, she looks away letting out a chuckle. “That you’re a dumbass.”

Goo couldn’t deny that the atmosphere between them was charged with a certain energy that he would never ignore. A surge of desire pumped through him as he stood up from his chair, walking over to her with confident strides. He leans down, placing his arms on each side of the chair Y/N sat in leaving her with no way to escape.

Y/N held his gaze, looking up at him with a renewed sense of energy as all his attention was now on her. She brings her arms up and wraps them around his neck, bringing him closer. She could feel his breath on her lips, a smirk forming on face. He wanted to play hard to get, but why would he when the prize was right underneath him? Goo leaned in closer, his lips brushing against hers in a teasing manner. Y/N was impatient though, as she crashed her lips onto his, pulling his body on top of hers with a sense of desire so strong. Goo took the hint and slid his tongue past her lips, desperately kissing each other, roaming his hands along her body. His hands stop on the hem of her shirt, pulling away from the kiss. “Take this off, take everything off,” He demanded, pulling away from her to strip down to his boxers and sitting back on his stupidly expensive chair. Y/N wasted no time taking everything off, going over to straddle his thighs.

Goo took a moment to admire the view in front of him, his hands snaking down from her waist to her precious little cunt. He collected some of the slick that had already formed in between her folds, the desperation in her voice evident with the little moan she let out. “That's my girl, show me how much you’ve been craving this.” He spoke in a rough tone, almost a growl.

“I want you so bad,” Y/N whined as she started to grind against his fingers, her arms finding their way back around his neck.

Goo slipped his slender fingers into her, his thumb finding and circling her clit skillfully. Y/N’s body started to tremble, the intoxicating pleasure building up inside of her. Her mind went blank as his fingers started to deliciously stretch her out. Goo pulled her into a deep kiss, picking up the pace and slipping another finger into her. “Such a good girl for me hmm?” he mocked, enjoying the view displayed in front of him.

Y/N’s hips started stuttering as he quickened his pace, a burning sensation in her thighs from the pleasure she was receiving. He was knuckles deep, thrusting his fingers until he found the familiar spongy spot and curling his fingers into the spot. She let out a choked moan, her eyes tearing up as the knot in her stomach started to form. Goo could feel the way her walls spasmed against his fingers, her rhythm faltering. Her hands move down to his muscular biceps, nails digging into his skin as her eyes shut. “Come on baby, no one else can make you feel this good right? You can’t pay a guy better than I to do such a job. Look at you,” he says almost mockingly, teasing her. Sure, she may have not paid him to do such a thing- but it's not like he asked for money anyways.

Her mind was fuzzy, barely registering the words coming out of his mouth. “I'm all yours,” Y/N responds desperately, pleasure washing over her as she came on his fingers, moaning his name in the process. He immediately pulls his fingers out of her, a whine escaping her mouth as she had not fully rode out her orgasm. Goo places his hand on her neck, his fingers wrapping around her throat as he pulls her in for another passionate kiss. The feeling was intoxicating, knowing that she had him all to herself- even if it was just for today.

Y/N had no time to recover as Goo lay ahold of her hips, lifting her up to take off his boxers in one swift movement and lining himself. He easily slid her in, a mixture of the previous orgasm and her wetness lubricating her. A yelp escaped her throat as she felt the sting of his dick stretching her. While inside of her, he flipped her over on the couch, in full control as he gripped onto her hips and thrusting like an animal. His grip was sure to leave bruises and his thrusts rough and brutal.

All Y/N could do was moan in pleasure, her grip tightening on his shoulder. Her eyes were still shut, but she could feel the menacing stare of Goo piercing into her. She could sense how aroused he had become, enjoying the way her face scrunched up and eyes rolling to the back of her head, as his dick started twitching inside of her. She had always thought Goo would last longer- but who was she to judge when she was also close to her own climax once again. His movements became erratic, leaning in to press his body against hers and lowly moaning into her ear. He chased his own release rather than hers, as he started to pound into her vigorously. “Goo ‘ts- slow down-” Y/N whimpered, but his ears fell deaf to her pleas.

That familiar feeling crashed down on Y/N, her orgasm coating his dick but he kept going, overstimulating her. Y/N’s body twitched underneath him as his pounding did not seem to slow at all. Her nails dug into his skin, clawing his back as her whimpering became loud. “You can take this, slut. Asking for me and yet you couldn’t handle it,” he growled into her ear. And after a few more thrusts, he finally came inside her.

----

did you guys miss me or not yet LMAO. I know I dont write often so I hope you enjoy this.

#Is it just me or is the lookism fandom dying (I dont blame you ptj sucks)#or maybe i just don't write often sorry guys #lmao #lookism #lookism fanfic #goo kim #lookism goo #goo smut #goo kim smut #lookism smut #smut

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puppyeared · 9 months

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Thinking about my old pkmn ask blog

#I’m not really active in the community anymore but more because I grew away from it #I think about coming back a lot but Im not really sure what id do lol. I mean I think my storytelling and writing #skills have somewhat improved. but i still really really suck at making endings #although maybe I could make it like something that resolves the main problem and then just open for any interactions..#….fuck. I’m actually considering it now. I love impulsiveness 🧍#ugh but the other problem was that I would slowly stop updating as the dopamine slowed down and then just abandoned it altogether #multiple times in fact. since I’m the one making the content and not consuming it eeeuuhhgggghuhuhhhhhhh #this lil guy was supposed to have a story around his estranged family and his own problem with identity. I think I could still pick it up #i suck at writing edgy aloof dialogue so it always felt a little stilted or off when I wrote his dialogue. but I love him #myart #my art #oc #pokemon ask blog #pokeask #moss eevee #pokemon

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daffi-990 · 3 months

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Fuck it Friday

Tagged by @diazsdimples and @tizniz. Thank you lovelies for the tag! Everyone be sure to check out what they shared okay?!

Today I present to you some tsunami action from Rival Firefighters 🚒. I finished all of the tsunami stuff for Buck’s chapter today which I am happy about … I’m just not sure how I feel about what I wrote 😬. I found the tsunami difficult to write and I’m very nervous and slightly overwhelmed at revisiting it again in the next chapter but in Eddie’s POV. It’s definitely going to be a challenge, but I want to improve and stretch myself as a writer which means challenging myself haha.

Prev snippet from this au can be found here

“I can’t hold on!” Chris cries out before he’s losing his grip and slipping under the water.

Heart hammering in his chest Buck waits for a moment before diving into the rapids, swimming with all his might. If he timed it right he should intercept Chris.

Fuck he hopes he timed it right.

Debris clouds the water making it hard to see but not impossible, and coming straight towards him is Chris. Buck reaches out and grabs onto Chris, pulling him towards him.

I’ve got him, I’ve got him, I’ve got him.

They break through the surface, both sucking in deep lungfuls of air as they hold tightly to each other, Buck cradling the back of Chris’s head as he repeats I’ve got you over and over again, as much a comfort for himself as it is for Chris.

With Chris now in his arms, Buck begins swimming in search of safety where they can rest and wait for help, ideally somewhere out of the water.

He doesn’t have to search far, for less than a mile ahead Buck spots a fire engine, the red of the roof standing out among the ocean of blue and white surrounding them, a bright beacon of hope. Buck swims towards the engine and pushes Chris up onto the roof as quickly as he can. He begins to pull himself up, arms shaking from exertion but he doesn’t stop, keeps pulling up and up until his torso is over the edge and he’s able to crawl into the center, collapsing beside Chris.

We’re safe.

We’re alive.

No pressure tagging: @wildlife4life @hippolotamus @spotsandsocks @steadfastsaturnsrings @wikiangela @watchyourbuck @athenagranted @alliaskisthepossibilityoflove @malewifediaz @spagheddiediaz @lover-of-mine @ladydorian05 @loserdiaz @exhuastedpigeon @elvensorceress @eddiebabygirldiaz @evanbegins @rainbow-nerdss @rewritetheending @thewolvesof1998 @try-set-me-on-fire @theotherbuckley @princessfbi @shitouttabuck @devirnis @disasterbuckdiaz @fiona-fififi @fortheloveofbuddie @giddyupbuck @hoodie-buck @homerforsure @honestlydarkprincess @jeeyuns @puppyboybuckley @jesuisici33 @captain-hen @bekkachaos @nmcggg @monsterrae1 @missmagooglie @epicbuddieficrecs and anyone else who has something they want to share -> consider this your official tag 😉

#daffi writes #fic: stuck now so long we just got the start wrong #rival firefighters fic #buddie wip #buddie #I wanted to keep the pace of the tsunami fast for this chapter just like it would’ve been for Buck and Chris #not a whole lot of time to stop and inner monologue when you’re fighting for your life and trying to save your kid #hopefully it doesn’t suck and I’ll feel better about it after a reread and maybe some editing

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sora-of-uranus · 2 months

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The removal of the sexism pisses me off not because it just affects Sokkas character but because it has ruined almost every woman in the show.

Suki takes off her make up often, as if it isn't a large part of her cultural identity and personality, as if her being a kyoshi warior and her destinctly femenine clothes are something to be ashamed off or that hinders her. Because its only her that gets this treat amongst the warriors, and shes the only main kyoshi warrior for the audience.

Yue's entire character is removed. It is replaced with what I think is meant to be a sympathetic princess to the people, she joins the nans in the kitchens and make deserts for the children. Like a disney princess whose quirky and silly and held back only by her title of a princess. Gone is the battle between her desire to help and her duty to be a water tribe ideal woman. Gone is her realising that the best way to help her people is to not be an ideal woman, but to take action and to do what no one else can, to become one with the moon so that she can forever help not just her tribe but the entire world. It is depressing, it is deep, it isn't fair to her but when has the world ever been fair?

Katara aswell. Her bending is forever unlocked by men (Aang and Jet), her defiance of authority is lessened and her naievety is also changed. A lot of her motherhood role is also completlty gone since they have changed Sokkas sexism into elder brother smothering. Her fight with Paku holds a lot less significance since she has no RAGE behind her. No rage that has built for YEARS as time and time again people have said no to her face for being a woman, for being weak, for not being enough simply because of who she is. that doesn't exist for her anymore because the water tribes are just...nice. We see one bad person in the water tribe and its Hadoka and he's mean to sokka! Kataras rage comes from Paku saying no to her, and whilst thats swell, it changes her entire "I'm a master now" moment into just...lame girlbossery. Thats kinda how the entire last 2 episodes felt like for her character. A common girlboss character without the emotional depth to make it femenism.

I think my main issue is that both shows set themselves up as being femenist by nature. The og show wanted to tackle issues with sexism, using book 1 as its main demonstration with it, but the theme still follows throughout the narative. netflix's show outright said they were removing the sexist elements. When you place youself onto that pedastal, any sexist writing you have becomes emphasised.

The og show undoubtably has sexist moments! Irohs comments to June are the most obvious to me, a long with a couple comments from Zuko later on. You can certainly argue that the extreme lack of GOOD mother figures is an issue (Kat and Sokkas mother is dead, Zukos is 'dead', and Toph is awful and rather quite compared to her father). Theres other examples, although currently my brain cannot think of any since I don't often write indepth critisms.

The live actions main point of sexism is its female main characters. we literally meet Yue in the kitchen! Women can be in kitchens but that is certainly a choice! Theres this strange hatred for make up aswell, yes with Suki but also with Sokka. His war paint is removed. Its like saying make up cannot be worn by strong fighters which is rather sexist. Speaking off: not putting Sokka in the kyoshi outfit is just...dumb? If you want to show him learning the style, having him wear the outfit. Its an aspect of the style and philosophy. A man wearing make up and a skirt doesn't emasculate him yet the show makes it feel that way with the refusal to do it. "Oh but then you'd have Sokka and Suki kiss in the kyoshi outfits" who cares. "it will look like lesbians" it won't. Even if it did, who cares? you can't be 'femenist' and anti-lesbian. Putting Sokka in the Kyoshi outfit, having him respect it, is just as important as having Aang learn the other elements, or Iroh creating lightning redirection. Why? because it shows a respect of culture, and how you can blend that into your own way of thinking. It's cultural extchanged based on respect.

When you name yourself femenist, yet have explicitly sexist writing, your GOING to get dogpiled with critism based on that 'femenist' msg.

#avatar the last airbender #netflix avatar the last airbender #katara #princess yue #atla suki #the og show has its problems please I am acknoweldging that!#BUT it was also A LOT of peoples introduction to femenism in writing and gave examples of strong women in a large variety #the netflix show just doesn't do that. The women feel flat #I see A LOT of love for this show #but it revolves arround ZUKO and IROH and sometimes AANG #notice how they are all men????#Maybe its just how i've curated my feed #Or maybe the show just kinda sucks when it comes to women.#Also I find it so funny how most of the talk surrounding the women I see are critisms for their looks. I mean all the cast is getting it #but specifically with the Mai tylee Azula and Yue #its fun

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mc-lukanette · 5 months

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Marinette was just tired, staring down at the ice cream on the ground as Andre scrambled to get her another. A fun time with her friends to run around Paris and maybe get a chance with Adrien had turned into a spotlight of embarrassment for her. The "couple time" her friends had been planning on having was now ruined to focus entirely on her, when all she wanted now was curl up into a corner and cry.

She felt bitter, watching as the mess on the bridge started to melt. It was like some sort of metaphor for how her attempts and opportunities all failed or slipped through her grasp, slowly but surely.

Andre grabbed her wrist and practically forced a replacement ice cream cone into her hand, saying stuff about how the magic doesn't lie and he must've just gotten the colors wrong, but she honestly wasn't listening anymore. She was in her own head, wondering, What would've been the point anyway? It's not like Adrien was coming to see me.

She couldn't see any reality in which that was false. He would've come for his friends, or for the thrill of the search, or maybe even just to have some ice cream. Even if she'd managed to make it all work out and share with him, what were the odds of everything afterward working out? She'd try to say something romantic and would mess it up, or he'd misunderstand and brush it off as nothing, or she'd be bumped into again and send the ice cream right onto his expensive clothes.

She winced at the thought. Maybe him not showing up was just a blessing in disguise, saving her from the humiliation of doing anything and having it all go wrong.

Marinette didn't want to make a big deal out of it, refusing to risk ruining her friends' time further. She diverted her attention to the ice cream cone in her hand, noting the blue and pink colors that she suspected were her own. Maybe Andre had just truly given up on her and this was the sign that it was a lost cause?

Or maybe he just realized that there was no way Adrien was coming and tried to save himself.

She stepped aside from everyone and sat down at a bench, keeping her distance from the happy couples while she poked at the ice cream with her tiny spoon. Andre wasn't exactly wrong if her thoughts on his mindset were true. Adrien always seemed to be unavailable when it mattered, and if she wanted to let herself spiral a little more, it almost seemed intentional.

After all, wasn't it a little too convenient that Adrien had missed out on the preparation for the music festival - when it would've been easiest for her to talk to him - just to show up afterward? Or for Adrien to have gotten the okay to go for ice cream only to be suddenly unavailable? Perhaps it would've been easy to pass those off if it weren't for the fact that Nino so rarely complained about their time together, and Adrien's schedule had been magically free when it came to him setting Nino up with her.

If her suspicions were accurate, then either Adrien knew how she felt and was doing everything possible to avoid her, or he just generally found her uncomfortable to be around; maybe even thought she was weird. Part of her wanted to defend that, suggesting that saying nothing was the "nice" thing to do, but her history of crushing on him when she apparently had no chance would disagree with that. She would've saved herself a lot of time then.

She huffed to herself, scooping up a bit of her ice cream and resolving to eat her sorrows away instead. Faintly recalling Andre's comment about how the magic only works if you eat it, she shook her head in disbelief and thought with a bittersweet expression, If I need magic to make him come see me, then what's the point?

She had opened her mouth, ready to finally taste the sweet treat, when a voice called out, "Marinette?"

Marinette paused, looking towards the source. Luka was standing just at the end of the bridge, presumably having been walking by as he spotted her. She smiled, wordlessly inviting him over, and he returned it as he made his way towards her.

"What are you up to?" she asked, genuinely curious.

"I was just taking a walk to the Trocadéro," he replied, his casual tone assuring her that she wasn't delaying anything serious, "but then I heard your song and wanted to check."

She ducked her head shyly, using her ice cream as an excuse to look away from him. She finally ate a bit, letting the taste of blueberry melt into her mouth. Already, she was feeling a little better.

When she looked back up, Luka hadn't looked away from her. Their friends (if they were Luka's friends anyway; they might've only been Juleka's) were only a small distance away, as well as the ice cream stand, but he didn't seem inclined to leave even to go say "hi."

Smiling, Marinette used her spare hand to pat the spot on the bench next to her, not unlike when he invited her to sit on his bed. Luka didn't waste any time, happily taking a seat beside her.

Whether or not he knew the legend, she was certain that he must've seen both the couples as well as the ice cream they were sharing that was made exactly like hers. She felt grateful at the idea that he was intentionally not prodding, even if he might've been curious.

"Someone didn't show," she explained anyway, fidgeting with her cone, "but I also might've gotten ditched."

He frowned, a hand going to her shoulder in sympathy. "I'm so sorry."

She shook her head, appreciating but not needing the comment. "It's okay. It was never going to work out anyway."

She wondered for a second if she was just fooling herself, but Luka's smile assured her otherwise. If he believed her, she must've meant it.

"Still," Luka began as he leaned back, crossing his ankles before continuing, "in our band, Rose writes the lyrics and I'm in charge of the music. Jule and Ivan feel bad about it sometimes, but we're all putting in effort to make it come together, so we don't mind."

Marinette hummed, nodding as she took that in. She could understand that, of course, given that she'd put effort into just about everything she did, from gaming to fashion to romance.

She never got any effort returned for the latter, either because it all went bad before reaching its intended recipient or it didn't change anything. She still had to ask for Adrien's whereabouts and information when she wanted to know, she'd thought they'd bonded over a shared love of games yet he never mentioned it to her again, and in retrospect, despite her image of him as the kind prince locked away in a tower, he hadn't given her a hand or showed any concern when Chloe shoved her.

The one thing she could think of was the charm he'd given her on her birthday based on the charm that she'd given him - which was so often a defense she came up with in her head - only now she’d finally remembered that she had loaned it to him and he'd just held onto it, thus making the situation seem substantially less romantic. It also didn't escape her that her luck had somehow gotten worse since then, even it was just the universe personally spiting her. "Hey, I'm glad you like having my luck and everything, but can I have it back?" she asked the imaginary Adrien in her head.

Luka had the luxury for her of being an "outsider" to all of it. They'd only met recently, so his knowledge of her relationships was extremely limited. Had it been one of the girls instead, they probably would've asked before she'd even gotten the chance to bring it up.

This was nice. Luka was nice. She still felt bubbly thinking about his apology at the first sign she was upset by him, how his first instinct was to protect her from the akuma, and the way he asked about her first to Ladybug even after having safely hidden her away. It was entirely possible that it had nothing to do with her and that it was just how Luka cared for people, but she actually liked that thought more.

"...Oh," she uttered in realization, noting that she was sitting there with ice cream while Luka wasn't. She turned to him, ensuring that he could see the second spoon still stuck in the ice cream. "Do you want any?"

His gaze flickered from the ice cream to her, confirming that she meant her ice cream. She nodded and he happily took the second spoon, adding a soft, "Thanks. I don't know what you got, but I love the colors."

She beamed, admiring the way his black nails stuck out against the color of the spoon as he scooped some of the ice cream she'd yet to try. Even in his mannerisms, he was such a sweetheart—

Wait.

"Ah—Luka, stop!" Marinette hurried to say, reaching out but not quite touching his wrist. "That's Sweetheart's Ice Cream! Maybe we should get you a different one."

He stopped, blinking at her confusedly. She'd honestly thought he'd know what she was talking about without her having to explain, but he seemed truly clueless.

"Um..." She gestured at it with her free hand. "People go all over Paris looking for Andre so they can taste his Sweetheart's Ice Cream." She raised a finger as she made her point. "They say that if two people eat it together, they'll be together forever!"

Huh. It actually sounded a little ridiculous when she said it to someone who didn't know.

She forged on anyway, figuring that she might as well finish what she started, "I-I don't want to magically attach us together? Especially because you didn't know that and..." She pouted, unsure if it was okay to touch on the topic but adding, "I thought you might have a girlfriend already? Or a boyfriend?"

Luka's eyes left hers to look at the tiny bit of ice cream on his spoon. He turned it left and right like he was trying to spot what exactly made it so magic, but it looked blatantly like normal, plain ice cream.

Eventually, he shrugged, catching her free hand in his and giving it a reassuring squeeze. "Thanks for looking out for me, Marinette, but I've never had anyone like that."

"Wh—really?" The shock of him knowing nothing of Sweetheart's Ice Cream paled in comparison to him never having had a partner. "So you're single?"

She'd asked out of sheer curiosity, but blushed when it became apparent how they sounded.

Luka, her savior from embarrassment, didn't even flinch and took it in stride. "Yeah." He looked back down at the ice cream, wondering aloud, "Do you believe in it?"

"Believe in...?" It took Marinette a second to remember what they'd been talking about. She followed his gaze to the ice cream, thinking the question over seriously. Could there actually be a magical solution to tie her to someone, or even just to help? Her parents had gotten together and thought fondly of their time with Sweetheart's Ice Cream, but did they actually believe in it? As Luka had asked, did she believe in it?

"...No. I don't think so," she sighed.

Funnily (or maybe tragically) enough, being Ladybug and getting exposed to the world's "magic" had made her more critical of the idea. "Magic" never actually solved any of her problems and often made them worse instead.

"I like what you said," she added with a self-conscious chuckle, "about effort. Sharing ice cream is nice, but there's no magic to it."

He nodded in agreement. "We don't have to worry then."

"Are you sure?" she continued to prod, though at this point it might not have been about the "magic" element anymore.

Instead of answering, he finally ate the ice cream that had been on his spoon, a pleased hum following at the taste. "Even if it was true, I wouldn't mind."

"You... wouldn't mind being tied to me?" she asked, her blush deepening. His directness was good - really, really good - because it left no room for her to misinterpret it, but she certainly wasn't used to it.

"Mhm." He confirmed it like it wasn't a big deal, but there was a warmth to his face that could've melted the ice cream on contact. "You're talented, amazing, and brave. Why wouldn't I?"

Marinette had experienced flirting before, but only under a mask. Even beyond Chat, there were a few people she'd saved who couldn't help but get a word in about how pretty she was or how awesome it was that she'd thrown the akuma into a web she'd fashioned out of her yoyo.

This was different though. He wasn't saying it to charm her, or gush about strength and dexterity she could only achieve after being powered up. He was just saying how he honestly felt without an ounce of exaggeration.

Shy, she attempted to take a bit more ice cream to give herself time to respond, but a bit turned to a lot when she mistakenly scooped too much. Trying not to laugh, she bit her bottom lip, almost in awe by how things had turned around after just a bit of introspection. She hadn't even realized how much was weighing her down until she let it all go.

"...Luka," she dared to call, throwing caution to the wind. When their gazes met, she held the spoon out to him encouragingly.

His lips parted for a moment - the first sign of throwing him off she'd gotten today - but like a puppy being offered a treat, he obediently leaned over and opened his mouth further to clamp down on the ice cream.

It did actually feel a little magic, but she was certain that it wasn't the legend's doing.

——

Marinette walked into her kitchen, letting her long hair down as she prepared to relax for the day. It was still strange getting used to having her own house, but not unwelcome, and one of the biggest pluses was that she didn't have to dig through her parents' weird dessert tastes in the freezer to get to what she wanted.

Pulling out two containers of ice cream at random - welcoming a little chaos in mixing the flavors - she set them on the counter and took out two bowls as well. Scooping an appropriate amount of the two flavors into them ("appropriate" for a lazy day anyway), she added one spoon in each before putting the containers back and taking the bowls out to the living room.

Luka, her boyfriend of almost five years, was skimming through a selection of movies on the couch to decide what they should watch. At the first sight of her though, he stopped, setting them down and welcoming her close.

She set her bowl down on the table, holding the other out to him and taking the time to give him a kiss on the forehead. He responded by pulling her down to kiss her chin, never one to leave a smooch unreturned.

Pulling back, she took in the sight of him holding ice cream and giggled. Unapologetically, she stated, "I guess that ice cream legend was right after all. You've already been stuck with me for years."

Luka raised a brow at her and smirked, catching the joke instantly. He held his arm out, allowing her to plop down next to him and snuggle against his side. "Mm, maybe I should've listened to you back then." Their lips met in a kiss as he blindly reached for the spoon in his bowl, scooping up some ice cream with it. "But you know what I said."

Marinette nodded, tucking her hair behind her earring-less ears before accepting the bite he fed her. "Mhm~" She took her time to savor the taste before swallowing, smiling contentedly as she responded, "I didn't mind being tied to you either."

#queuekanette #lukaneventte: No Context November #Flower Arrangement Shipping #Pro LukaMari #Lukanette #type: salt #episode: Glaciator #((Every episode where stuff like this happens to her my brain just jumps to))#((okay but what if this was the one where she realized ''hey maybe the hand I was dealt kinda sucks?''))#((I was going to say that this is nothing but self-indulgence but that's technically every Lukanette piece I write))

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