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zephyrchama · 6 days

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Belphegor followed you down the hall as you dragged your suitcase. It wasn’t very big, but it was still heavy and annoying to lug over the thick decorative carpets. Every time one came to an end, the luggage thudded loudly back onto the hardwood floor.

“You sure you have everything? You packed the pillow I gave you?” Belphegor sluggishly matched his pace to yours. Having long legs must be nice.

“Of course, I triple checked.” ”Good. That’s my fifth favorite pillow, so you have to come back and return it, ok?”

You nodded as the suitcase went over another bump. This was your third time going over this exact conversation.

It wasn’t just the youngest, all of the brothers were antsy about your little trip. It was written all over their faces as you arrived at the foyer where they were waiting. Satan and Asmodeus solemnly stood up from the steps they were sitting on. Mammon and Leviathan had a hard time looking at you, their eyes darted all over the walls and ceiling. Beelzebub offered to move your suitcase by the door.

Just one weekend away. That was it. Solomon volunteered to take you back to the human world for a bit. You couldn't let a rare trip home pass by, as who knew when the next opportunity would arise. You could eat some normal food for once and stock up on your favorite human things. Though, your housemates reacted like you were leaving for a year.

“Did you pack everything?” Lucifer asked.

“Of course, I triple checked.” Deja-vu.

“Even the lotion I gave you?” Asmodeus looked so worried. He loosely took hold of your forearm with a tear in his eye. “Don’t forget, the sun is awful this time of year. I’ll never forgive you if you come back looking like a lobster.”

“Asmo, I won’t.” You grinned at his silly concern and leaned in for a hug. Asmodeus did not disappoint.

Everyone else took a step forward, hoping for a hug of their own, as Asmodeus breathed into your ear, “I’ll be waiting.”

“You have my number. If anything goes wrong, call me.” Lucifer sounded so reliable as he placed a hand on your shoulder.

There were half a dozen chimes of “mine, too!” and “same here!”

You’d been away for longer trips. How in the world did these guys survive for so many millennia before you met them? You turned to look at Lucifer, wanting to counter that Devildom phones didn’t even work in the human world, but he probably knew that already.

"Don't talk to strangers," he reminded, "and don't go out alone at night. Some humans are worse than demons." He wrapped his arms around you and wished “safe travels.”

Mammon stepped up next. He forced himself to stare at you, haughtily playing off the sadness he was really feeling. His bottom lip jutted out a little more than usual. “Well! You’ll bring me back a good souvenir, right?”

“Oh? I don’t know, I might not have time…” It was playful banter, yet your words shocked him. Mammon’s eyes widened. He began stammering and gripped your fingers. You quickly performed damage control, “Joking! I’m joking, Mammon. Of course I’ll get you a souvenir.”

The younger siblings piped up, “us too!”

“I’m getting everyone souvenirs, don’t worry!” You already had a few gift ideas in mind.

Mammon put his forehead on your shoulder and a hand on your back that he rubbed. “But mine’ll be the best. I trust ya.”

“Don’t let Solomon give you any food he cooks,” Beelzebub warned. “Actually, don’t let Solomon give you any food. Ever.” He tried to give you a lumpy-looking cloth bag, no doubt filled with homemade treats to take with you. It smelled scrumptious. Only issue was, the bag was half your size.

“Beel, there’s food in the human world. I can’t take all this, why don’t you enjoy it with your brothers?”

Beelzebub frowned, setting aside his present. It tilted under the weight of its own contents. You felt a slight pang of guilt, but how could you carry it all? That much food could last you a week.

He picked you up for his hug, your toes dangling several inches off the floor until he gently set you back down. Belphegor caught you as you regained your footing.

His hug was simple and cozy. He tucked a strand of your hair behind an ear. “Don’t forget about my pillow.”

You suspected that if you ever actually tried to run away, these seven would go to the ends of the three realms to find you.

Satan nudged your luggage, observing the way it slided forward an inch. It was heavy to you, but clearly not them. “That’s really all you’re bringing? Do you have enough clothes?”

“Yes! You helped me pack!” The repetition was really starting to grate on you. Things were never this crazy when one of them had to leave the house for a few days. They wouldn't even care unless somebody went mysteriously unseen for over a week. “You all know I’ve got everything under control. I’ll be back in two days.”

“Hey, how come Satan got to help you pack?” Mammon complained.

“We did too,” Belphegor said, his twin in agreement.

“It was a group effort,” according to Asmodeus.

Mammon crossed his arms. "No way! You let these guys see your underwear?"

Satan ignored them. “Do you want another book for the road?”

“I’ll be fine.” You gave Satan his hug. After letting go, his fingers hovered by your side. “We’re teleporting there anyway. I don’t think there’ll be time to read anything.”

One suspiciously quiet demon in the back stared at the floor. “Two days,” he sighed. Leviathan did a poor job of hiding how upset he was.

“Levi, aren’t you going to say goodbye?”

“Yes!?” His head jerked up, met your gaze, and looked down again.

“I can’t leave until I get a full set of hugs from everyone,” you admitted. “I’m missing a very valuable part of the collection.”

Asmodeus and Mammon readily offered themselves for a second go. Leviathan’s cheeks flushed with envy and he grabbed you a little roughly, squishing his face into your shoulder. “You’ll take lots of pictures? A-and you won’t forget about us?”

You scoffed, “how could I forget about you? We’re bound together by a pact, aren’t we?” As for photos… you didn't know what would be interesting, but it couldn't hurt to take a bunch anyway.

Lucifer cleared his throat, signaling to Leviathan it was time to let go. "I miss you already," he muttered.

The seven of them followed you out of the house and down to the House of Lamentation’s front gate. It was like having a school of fish circling you. You could call it a miracle they weren't following you onto the main road, but if they went that far you knew they'd unreasonably demand Solomon take them along too.

“It’s just one weekend!” you reiterated. “Take care, you guys.”

They peered at you through the fence bars, waving when you glanced over. It was a sad sight, and possible attempt to make you come rushing back. If it was this bad already, you didn't want to think about how they'd act if you were going away for one week.

#maybe sequel when I come back? this was supposed to be more funny but it turned into more fluffy. hm!#i think my original thought was “mc going to a sleepover at purgatory hall and lucifer being all 'overprotective parent' about it”#idk about this but i wanted to get it out of my system so i'd stop thinking about it #obey me! swd #obey me swd #obey me!#obey me #obey me shall we date #obey me x mc #obey me x reader #obey me scenarios #omswd #obey me x you #obey me brothers #obey me fanfic #obey me drabble #obey me fluff

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senatortedcruz · 6 months

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Feel like such a raging “not like other girls!!!” Bitch kinda agreeing with this and I’m not mad about the porn but man it’s so sad when you meet a new girl who’s like “I love to read!!” And she’s talking about thinly veiled fanfiction booktok garbage for 12 year olds with clip art covers marketed by listing out their tropes

#Bitch!! I’m dying to discuss my thoughts on Anne Patchett and Haruki Murakami and you want to talk about Reylo fanfics

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unclewaynemunson · 7 months

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Alt version of this post bc too many people asked for both <3

It's Saturday night and, like almost every Saturday night, Eddie wishes he didn't have to be at some jock party. The flashing lights, the scent of cheap mixed drinks, the incredibly mediocre loud music... And worst of all, the fucking jocks. Everywhere.

'Eddie!'

He looks up to find Steve, with a dopey smile on his face, basically skipping towards him and throwing his arms around his neck. Oh. He didn't know Steve still went to parties like those. Hadn't seen him at any of them in a while. But as soon as he gets wrapped up in an enthusiastic full-body hug, he decides there's one jock, and one jock only, that he doesn't mind running into at those parties.

'Eddie, what're you doin' here?' There's an unfocused look in his eyes and he wobbles on his legs a little bit, grabbing tighter onto Eddie for support. The touch burns through Eddie's t-shirt and he tries to ignore the shiver running down his spine.

'I didn't know you liked parties!' Steve drops his voice, slurring: 'I thought you hated the jocks.'

Eddie can't help but smile. 'I hate all jocks but one, big boy,' he tells Steve. 'Not here to party, only to get some cash.' He rattles with the metal lunchbox in his hands to illustrate his point. 'Can you let me go now so I can get on with my business, pretty please?'

'Noooo,' Steve says with an exaggerated pout. 'I'm too happy you're here! Dance with me!'

Eddie chuckles. 'I don't think you're in any state to dance right now. Jesus, Stevie, I don't think I've ever seen you this wasted before. Thought you were planning to pick up a girl tonight?'

'I was,' Steve says, suddenly sounding oddly serious. 'But it doesn't matter. Just needed to forget. The rum helped, too.' He frowns. 'Til you showed up.'

'Forget what?' Eddie asks, trying to make sense of this drunken string of words.

Something happens; something that's been happening quite often lately. Steve's eyes flash downwards, just for a second, right to where Eddie's lips are.

Eddie's heartbeat involuntarily picks up speed.

'What did you need to forget, Steve?' Eddie asks again.

'Can't tell you,' Steve mumbles so softly that Eddie can barely make it out over the loud music. 'I don't wanna make you feel guilty. I'm not judging you, y'know. 'S fine.'

He abruptly lets go of Eddie and takes a step away from him, stumbling right into some girl who pushes him back with an annoyed scoff; if Eddie weren't still standing right behind him, he would've fallen on his ass for sure.

'Alright, you're not making any sense tonight, big boy, but I can't in good conscience let you stay here by yourself. How 'bout I'll drive you home?'

Eddie glances at his watch. If he hurries, he can probably still be back to do what he came here for before the good part of the party is over. He does kinda need the cash.

'Can't,' says Steve. 'Can't go home with you.' Something in his voice is breaking and suddenly there are tears in his eyes, and Eddie still doesn't understand what's wrong; he feels like he's overlooking something huge, something that should be obvious.

'Let's just go outside to talk, then?' he suggests.

'Can't. Dance with me, Eddie.'

But when Eddie starts gently tugging Steve towards the open door leading to the garden, Steve easily lets himself be led outside. He closes his eyes and takes a deep breath when the cool night air reaches his lungs, as if one gulp of fresh air will instantly make him sober up. But he's still swaying on his feet, making Eddie grab onto him tighter.

Eddie likes to think of himself as moderately strong, but unfortunately, hauling 180 pounds of muscled jock around is starting to take its toll on him. He spots a bench in a secluded corner of the garden and guides Steve towards it.

'This better?' he asks.

'Yeah,' Steve breathes out. Even now that they're both sitting down, Steve keeps clinging onto him. 'Look at the stars, Eddie.'

Eddie looks up at the scattering of lights twinkling far above them - but he can feel Steve's eyes still burning into his face.

When he directs his gaze back to the guy sitting next to him, Steve's face is even closer than before. The starlight is reflected in his hazy eyes, tiny specks of silver hidden in various shades of brown and black.

'I wish I could kiss you,' Steve whispers, looking at Eddie with nothing but admiration behind that glassy drunk gaze.

Eddie almost forgets to breathe. He knows that it seemed like he and Steve were headed exactly toward something like this for a while now, but he still can hardly believe that it is real. That Steve Harrington is really looking at him like he's just as precious as the stars in the sky above them.

He brings up a hand, gently caresses Steve's soft cheek.

'Maybe you don't have to wish,' he whispers back, unable to stop his eyes from flashing towards Steve's beautiful lips for a moment. 'Tomorrow. When you're not drunk anymore. If you still remember this.'

'No.' Steve shakes his head, so fiercely it makes his hair flap in all directions and his complexion at least two shades paler. 'Can't.'

'Why do you keep saying that, Steve?' Eddie asks softly.

'Cause.' For a moment Eddie thinks Steve is gonna grab his ass, but then... he randomly frees Eddie's handkerchief – the one with the skulls – from his back pocket.

'Cause of the Russians.'

Eddie can only stare at him in confusion.

'They tied me up,' Steve all but whispers. Eddie hates how small and broken his voice suddenly sounds.

He has always known – broadly speaking – about what happened to Steve and Robin miles beneath Starcourt last year. He's never actually heard Steve talk about the details, though. All he knows is that he and Robin were captured by Russian spies and somehow made it out alive. He could always see how difficult it was for Steve to talk about it whenever it came up, but he never wanted to pry. And now here they are, at some goddamn high school jock party of all places, and all of a sudden Steve willingly brings it up.

'I was with Robin,' Steve continues, still in that scared and broken voice. 'And they tied us to a chair. We couldn't move. And they – they hurt me. They hit me. 'Til I was bleeding all over. I thought I was gonna die. Robin thought I was dead.'

'Jesus Christ, Steve,' Eddie breathes out, tightening his grip around Steve's torso.

'So I can't,' Steve mumbles, holding up Eddie's handkerchief as if it's some kind of logical explanation for whatever it is he's trying to tell Eddie.

'Wh- What?'

'I know what it means, Eddie,' he says, as if he's even remotely making sense right now. 'You know John?'

'Who the hell is John?' Eddie only keeps finding himself more and more lost in this conversation.

'My cousin,' Steve says, like it's obvious, like he's ever talked about some cousin named John to Eddie before. 'The one in New York. He knows all about that shit, right? He sends me the good magazines sometimes when my parents aren't home. That's how I know.'

'Know what?'

Steve only waves around with that stupid handkerchief again.

'You're flagging, aren't ya? You like pain. Like BS... BM...'

Eddie feels his jaw drop.

'What the fuck are you talking about?' he asks. 'It's – this is a metal thing. It looks metal. I literally have no idea what you're – flagging?'

Now Steve's face finally mirrors the confusion Eddie has been feeling for the past ten minutes.

'Are you serious?' he asks, for one second showing more clarity in his eyes than Eddie has seen all evening.

Eddie nods.

'So it's not...' Steve stops himself, swallows, frowns. 'You're not into, like, hurting people and shit?'

And finally, it all clicks together in Eddie's mind: the repeated chorus of I can't, the story about the Russians, the goddamn handkerchief... Flagging. BDSM.

'Why the hell would I get off on hurting you, Steve?' is all he can get out of his mouth.

And Steve honest-to-Satan starts giggling; it sounds so relieved that Eddie kinda feels like giggling too, scary metal image be damned.

'I dunno, it's more common than you think,' Steve mumbles. 'I wouldn't judge you, alright? But I knew I could never give you that. No matter how much I like you. And then you'd get bored of me.'

'Oh, Steve,' Eddie whispers out. 'You don't need to worry 'bout that, I swear. For all I care, we can have the most vanilla sex in the world forever. Or never have sex at all. As long as it's with you... I'm good.' Eddie cringes as soon as the words leave his mouth: it sounds too cheesy, too sincere. He kinda hopes Steve will have forgotten this particular part of their conversation tomorrow morning.

But Steve doesn't look at him like he thinks it's stupid at all: his eyes are wide and he's smiling a soft smile.

'You sure? You won't get bored?'

Eddie chuckles. Now that he's being too goddamn cheesy anyway, he might as well double down on it. 'I can't imagine getting bored of getting to hold this body in a million fucking years. In any way you'll have me.'

Steve heaves out a relieved sigh before he buries his head against Eddie's chest.

'Can I bring you home, now?' Eddie asks.

There's a twinkle in Steve's eyes when he lifts his head again.

'Ooohhh... You wanna have the most vanilla sex in the world with me now?'

A chortle escapes Eddie's lungs.

'Um, maybe tomorrow, when you're not drunk off your ass,' he answers with a wink. 'For tonight, just lemme get you to bed, 'kay?'

'Okay, big boy,' Steve answers, and Eddie can't help but laugh before he presses a kiss against Steve's forehead.

#don't mind me rambling about stranger things #thought i'd finally put in my own 2 cents about them hanky debate #if you even care #seriously have fun with your hc's however you like but #let's address the trauma here alright #(and let them have the most boring vanilla sex forever i guess)#can you tell i'm in my soft steddie era?#I JUST NEED THEM TO BE SOFT GODDAMNIT #maybe it's my own yearning but LET THEM BE SOFT #steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #stranger things #fanfic #fruity ficlet #tw alcohol

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darlingboydiaz · 1 month

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do y'all ever think about the fact that bobby is literally chris' grandpa? like yeah, bobby is a father figure to buck. but buck is also chris' second dad.

that's a dynamic i am reminded of whenever i see eddie and bobby interact outside of the fire station and it's a dynamic that should be explored more overall.

#911 #911 abc #911 fox #911 show #buddie #bobby nash #eddie diaz #evan buckley #christopher diaz #Chris has two dads but also he has several grandparents at this point #auntie may and auntie maddie though???#love the thought of that #ATHENA AS HIS GRANDMA???#I HAVENT EVEN THOUGHT ABOUT THAT YET #literally the way bobby cares about eddie is so sweet #and bobby interacting with chris is very much family #literally just needed to get this out into the world #if you know any fanfics that explore the bobby as grandparent dynamic give me recs #or write something about it

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naffeclipse · 5 months

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During the brainstorming phase of Cryptid Sightings (so so long ago,) one concept I was fiddling with was demonic cryptids couldn't enter sunlight. They simply can't exist in such brightness due to their nature, except for, of course, Eclipse aka Sun while possessing a vessel. I even had a scene in mind of Moon cornering some poor sucker cryptid at the crack of dawn after said cryptid threatened/harmed Y/N. The cryptid taunted Moon by saying how he couldn't get them now—they were in the sunlight.

And Moon smiled wide, black goo seeping from between the faceplate's teeth as he stepped into the morning brightness, the vessel shifting to bright yellows and reds, and now bearing a terrible grin of ink and teeth.

"Oh, but I can, friend."

#whoop he tears off the cryptid's head #rip that guy but sun is just build different #anyways it ended up not working out due to many reasons but it was a cool scene that always stuck with me despite it not being canon #<<< says canon when talking about my very far removed fanfic au #yeah anyways thought process lore ig #cryptid sightings

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rookflower · 1 year

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nightheart's unique problem.

#warrior cats #warriors #cinderheart #nightheart #a starless clan #cinderpelt #this is irrelevant to my stronger feelings on nightheart's character i just thought it was funny #like we can all agree how silly the portrayal of the legacy stuff is in context aye?#edit guys I know there's literally dozens of legacy named characters in the series #I went with Cinderheart because it's the funniest but I'm aware this goes for so many other characters #I literally wrote a fanfic in high school about hollytuft confronting Cinderheart over her name. I know.

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teddog · 5 days

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Wake up babe, a new nickname for fluffy fics just dropped!

#thoughts about fanfic #fan nonsense

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wandixx · 4 months

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one-shot snippet

Duke was running out of fumes to run on. The last few days would be exhausting if it was just vigilante or just civilian stuff but no, he had to have it both. Because of Arkham break out, he had been called in three nights in a row, not for a whole patrol but he couldn't exactly sleep it off during the day like others did, especially not in a week when every teacher decided they needed to have test or quiz or what not. Naps meant he wasn't as sleep-deprived as he could be but he needed far more. But he couldn't because crime in Gotham never sleeps so he had normal patrol to finish and there were about two hours left.

Would something bad happen if he just stopped for a moment and laid on a roof? Ten up to fifteen minutes. It was a slow day too…

Yeah, no, he deserved a moment to rest and if something disastrous was to happen in the meantime he would shame other Bats for not giving him enough time to sleep.

It certainly said something that he found gravel covering this roof to be quite comfortable. He set a timer for ten minutes and let himself close his eyes.

When the loud screech of the timer jolted him awake, he was suddenly fully aware that he wasn't alone anymore. He sat up a little too quickly.

"Oh, you're awake" white white-haired girl around Damian's age chimed, sitting cross-legged just a few feet away from him. She wore something that could only be described as a lab safety hazmat suit, white and black with popping green accents. When had Gotham gotten a new vigilante/villain/whoever the girl was? "Good, I just returned from a snack hunt," she added, gesturing at a big textile bag lying next to her. Duke didn't have enough brainpower to do anything more than ask.

"What?"

The girl shrugged, take-out from BatBurger in her hand.

"You look like you have a bad day if not a few days, so I've got you my cousin's bad day combo or at least the closest thing I could. BatBurger burger isn't as good as NastyBurger but you certainly have better fries" As she spoke, a second take-out bag, 1 liter bottle of energy drink, juice bottle of the same size, and pack of convenience store brownies joined greasy paper bag sealed with a sticker.

"Is your cousin a speedster?" Excuse Duke, it was a totally valid question, he saw with his bare eyes both Wally West and Bart Allen when they visited Manor. No one else would be able to stomach the amount of food they inhaled during their stays.

"Nah, we're not that fast or that hungry. Though I think I may get closer to the speed of sound." So, clearly, a meta if white hair and weir aura that let his eyes rest weren't enough indication "My cousin when he has a bad few days often forgets to eat so this combo has to help with there too. But I'll steal your fries of course."

Duke was not going to look a gift horse in the teeth, so he grabbed one bag and tore it open. There was a classic combo with bigger fries and NightWings inside.

"Thank you…" he trailed off, hoping that the girl would take a clue and introduce herself but she didn't. She just drowned her fries in ketchup and started munching. She had her own juice.

"My cousin always said that each part of this combo has a different purpose." she explained instead, slightly muffled because of the fries in her mouth "This" she gestured towards the fast food meal "is to soothe your stomach. This "she tapped energy drink "is to soothe your brain and kick it back online. This "she raised a bottle of juice "is to soothe your taste buds because energy drinks are war crime against them and this "she nudged brownies "is to soothe your heart because Ancients damn it, this day is awful and you deserve it. At least that's what he told me when I had day bad enough to deserve that" she shrugged, licking ketchup of her finger. Suddenly she froze "You aren't allergic, are you?

"No, I'm not" he confessed bewildered.

"Good"

For a long moment, they sat in silence, devouring food the little girl brought. Duke distantly wondered if this was how the night shift spent their snack breaks. It felt nice.

He was finishing his part of the brownies when the girl spoke up again.

"Do you feel better now?"

"Yeah," he was a little surprised to realize that t it was true. He'll have to note down what she put in this 'bad day combo'. "Thank you"

"Don't mention it." she shrugged with a general gesture of dismissal "You're one of my cousin's favorite heroes because you're vaguely his age and handle Gotham alone during the day and I quote "She did honest or God air quotes at that" 'As only hero in Amity-' which is a lie by the way, Val is doing great and even if he suddenly got problem with how she feels about his alter ego, he still has Sam and Tuck even if they're usually more of moral support. And I helped when I visited, so no, he isn't the only one. Anyway as he said 'As the only hero in Amity, my heart goes out for anyone who deals with this type of bullshit so Dani if you absolutely have to prank heroes, leave them out of it, especially Signal, he can't be older than Jazz, he doesn't need any more mess to handle.' All aliens and lanterns are also off-limits because he is a space nerd. But you aren't space-related so I'm like 80% percent sure he has a celebrity crush on you" She slurped more juice, unbothered.

Duke was thankful he wasn't swallowing anything because for sure she would choke. He took a split second to consider addressing… this whole situation and choose against it. He was not ready to be anyone's celebrity crush.

"Your name is Danny?" he asked instead.

"Dani" she corrected" with an I"

"Ok. It's nice to meet you Dani-with-an-I" She giggled, nodding her head slightly.

"It's nice to meet you too Signal"

Duke stood up, stretching a little. Dani joined him after hastily putting all the trash in her bag. She was a little higher than expected.

"I have to get back to my patrol"

"Cool," she drifted back a bit, making him realize that she was floating a few inches above the ground. She fixed her bag on her arm.

"Hey, can I hang out a little bit more? My cousin will go green out of jealousy when I tell him" she added with a mischievous smirk but Duke could tell there was more to it. He took a moment to consider it, which apparently made the girl nervous "I can be invisible the whole time, like before." she offered, disappearing in the meantime. He could still tell where she was, because of her heat signature, and aura but for regular people, she would be no different than the surrounding air.

"Yeah, you can hang around and you don't have to be invisible. Just don't get in my way when I have to actually do some fighting."

She popped back to the visible spectrum and pouted like Damian whenever he got benched.

" I can fight, y'know? I stopped mugging on a snack run."

It was ten goddamn minutes, how could she get so much food and stop a mugging in such a short time?!

Oh, right, superspeed. Still, impressive.

"I haven't seen it" he started, channeling all Dick-trying-to-wrangle-Damian-into-socially-acceptable-activity' energy he could muster "So I don't know how you fight or even what powers you have. If we tried to fight together we would trip over each other" It was a bare-faced lie, Bat Training made sure of that but he knew for a fact that if he said anything else, the girl would be mad and probably did her own thing.

Was that what Bruce thought about all of them?

Oh no.

Dani still looked displeased but after a moment of consideration, she nodded with a defeated sigh.

Suddenly she straightened like she got struck by lightning and whipped around.

"Wha-"

She just shushed raising her finger to her mouth. Duke did indeed quieten.

"I have enhanced hearing" she whispered "There is a mugging somewhere this way."

"Let's go then" he shot his grapple, waving his other hand at Dani to come with him before he jumped off the roof. He heard the girl giggle as she flew right after him.

" After this, you'll show me the coolest gargoyles, okay? Sam asked for photos"

"Okay"

It seemed that the end of this patrol wouldn't be as bad as the start was. Hopefully.

And afterward, he was going to lock himself in his room until the sky fell or he was well rested.

Yeah, that was a good plan.

*******

how do you like it?

#it's been in my wips for some time and i wanted to finish it before posting anything #but my creative brain don't want to kick in lately and i really wanted to share something about this idea so here you are #later Duke kinda trains Dani #they hang out #Dani gets a new alias and makes minor costume changes #i had it all drawn and can't wait to share with y'all but i need to finish writing first so you know a context #dc x dp #thoughts?#dpxdc #dp x dc #dcxdp #one shot #writing wip #fanfic #have a nice day dear stranger who got to this part

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valninja · 1 year

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“Then keep me instead... I’d love to see your nation.”

“You can’t come down there in that.”

#shunamor #namuri #seaprincess #shuri x namor #namor x shuri #shuri #namor of talokan #black panther 2 spoilers #wakanda forever spoilers #wakanda forever #black panther 2 #like namor shut up #YOU DRESSED HER IN THAT #shuri said yes I would like to go on a date with you #the fanfic writes itself tbh #namor really thought about keeping her #SIR

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unclewaynemunson · 7 months

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Yall voted for the sober version of this premise so here ya go:

Steve doesn't know exactly what he had expected kissing Eddie would be like, but it sure as hell wasn't this. He would've expected something rough and raw, bared teeth and maybe fingers pulling at his hair. But what he gets instead is something infinitely soft, something resembling tenderness... It makes it all the more difficult for him to pull back.

“What's wrong, Stevie?” Eddie asks after one look at Steve's face.

“I need to tell you something,” Steve manages to choke out.

And Eddie wraps his arms all around him, pulling him closer until his head is lying right against Eddie's beating heart. That heartbeat, steady and reassuring, is all he focuses on while he talks.

“Remember last summer? The mall fire that wasn't really a mall fire?”

“You finally gonna tell me what happened there?” Eddie says. It doesn't sound accusatory, just curious and a little confused as to where this is headed.

“I don't really like to talk about it,” Steve confesses. He closes his eyes, flashes of what happened back then floating to the surface of his mind again.

“We – Robin and I – we were captured by Russian soldiers. They tied us up and interrogated us for hours. They thought we were spies, so they tried to get us to give up information. They hit me.” He pauses to take a breath. “They hurt me real bad, Eddie. Until I was bleeding all over. Until I lost consciousness and Robin thought I was dead. The only reason we survived is because they thought we would have useful information for them.”

“Jesus Christ, Steve...”

Eddie's grip around him tightens, but Steve lifts his head up and makes a half-hearted attempt to crawl away from him. The hardest part has yet to come.

“I really, really like you, Eddie,” he says. “But I can't do this with you.”

Confusion flashes over Eddie's features: his eyes widen and the lines around his lips become deeper. But he still doesn't loosen his grip.

“What do you mean?”

“It's the –“ Steve clears his throat. “I know what it means, the – your hanky. I got a cousin in New York who knows all about that shit, they send me magazines sometimes when my parents aren't home. I'm sorry, Eddie, but I can't do that, like, ever. It's only gonna make me relive that shit from last year. There's no way I can ever give you what you need, so it wouldn't be fair to...” He trails off, not quite knowing how to finish that sentence.

“What the hell are you talking about?” Eddie still looks as confused as ever.

“Your hanky,” Steve uselessly repeats. “You're flagging, aren't you? You're into, like, hurting people, right?”

Steve watches how Eddie's jaw drops, almost in slow motion.

“This?” he asks, grabbing behind him and taking the black piece of fabric, covered in skulls, out of his back pocket.

Steve nods.

Eddie laughs, but it sounds fake and on edge, quickly dying out again. “Steve. This is a metal thing. It looks badass, y'know. I literally have no idea what you're – flagging?”

A gasp escapes Steve's lips and he feels his heartbeat speed up with something that must be hope.

“Are you serious?”

Eddie nods, his brows still furrowed and that endearingly confused look of I-have-no-clue-what-the-hell-is-going-on not leaving his eyes.

It feels like Steve's heart is starting to run laps in his chest, now. He can barely suppress the laughter that's bubbling up inside of him.

“What the hell are you trying to tell me, Steve?”

He grabs the hanky that's still in Eddie's hand.

“I thought you were flagging,” he weakly explains. “It's like a code. To signal what you like to do, y'know, in the bedroom. The black, it means – I thought you were into, like, BDSM shit. Things I can't do: being tied down, getting hurt...”

“Why the hell would I get off on hurting you, Stevie?”

It sounds so ridiculously innocent and horrified: Eddie the freak, Eddie the scary metalhead – Eddie who is genuinely shocked at the suggestion that he had in any way created an image for himself in which it made sense that he'd be into pain.

“I mean, if you would, I wouldn't wanna judge you or whatever,” Steve is quick to say. “You'd be surprised how many people are into that shit, I'm not here to shame anyone. But if you aren't... I'm really fucking relieved, man.”

He still vividly remembers what happened when he was dating Daphne, who had once taken his wrists in her hands and pinned them down on the mattress above his head while she was on top of him. Or when he was with Melissa, who had half-jokingly slapped his ass one time when things were getting heated between them. Anything restricting his movements, anything unexpected, could make him lose his shit now, as he had had to find out the hard way. It had made him believe that he could never actually have Eddie, that that would be asking too big of a sacrifice of either one of them, an impossible kind of compromise, no matter how much they liked one another. But instead, here he is, with Eddie looking at him with the softest look in his eyes, actually having talked about his shit before they even got up to anything more than kissing.

So he tells him, stumbling his way through the words, about his experiences with Daphne and with Melissa. And Eddie listens to him patiently, his big eyes never once leaving Steve's, nodding as if he's mentally taking notes of what to do and what not to do.

“We can take it as slow as you need to,” Eddie tells him when he's finished, his voice sincere and reassuring.

“It's not about taking it slow,” Steve assures him. “It isn't about not being ready. It's more about...” He pauses to think. “It's about trust. I trust you.”

Eddie's hands, that are still wrapped around Steve's torso, tighten for a moment and he blinks rapidly a few times. He looks overwhelmed by Steve's words.

“Okay,” he finally says, a little bit more hoarse than before. “So if it's about trust, can I trust you to tell me whenever something I do is bringing back unwanted memories?”

Steve nods. “Yeah, I can do that.”

It's always been difficult for him to talk about what happened that day underneath the mall. But he realizes he has already done the difficult part: Eddie already knows about the memories he is carrying with him. That must make it easier to talk about it in case it will ever be necessary.

Soft lips press against his temple and he drops his head back on Eddie's chest.

“Good,” says Eddie. The sound of his voice vibrates through Steve's whole body; he doesn't think there's anything more comforting than being completely wrapped up in Eddie like this.

A hand lands in his hair and starts stroking through it softly.

“Thank you for telling me this,” Eddie mumbles. “That couldn't have been easy.”

In return, Steve wants to thank Eddie for being as sweet and understanding as he has been, but the exhaustion of having this talk is washing over him in big, heavy waves. So he merely hums and lets his eyes fall shut.

“You wanna stay the night?” Eddie asks. “We don't have to do anything right now – we can go straight to sleep, how does that sound?”

Steve nuzzles his head further into Eddie's chest. “Sounds good,” he murmurs. He can't imagine ever wanting to sleep on his own again.

#don't mind me rambling about stranger things #thought i'd finally put in my own 2 cents about them hanky debate #if you even care #seriously have fun with your hc's however you like but #let's address the trauma here alright #and let them be unbearably soft #steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #stranger things #fanfic #fruity ficlet

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starry-bi-sky · 22 days

Text

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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