#and look at you with those beady lil eyes

[decarbry]

question: we see yabureme's red eye on both sides of his face, but in the mirror comic, there's only one eye. does this mean it zips around his face as needed (please say yes I need this)

Yes! There is one on his face that is always present (even if it's closed) and can move around as necessary! I have a few more notes here too!

[frankenbridez]

you're lying.............................💞💘💓💥💥💥

clown chibis ✧˖°꒰๑'ꀾ'๑꒱°˖✧

@frankenbridez @gideongrovel

[solbaby7]

bloody mary pls make it neat and can you add a salt rim with a sprinkle of line? 🫶

*plops down drinks* *adds cute lil umbrellas* enjoyyy, bc who doesn’t love a good damsel in distress moment?

[ “it’s not safe for pretty thing like you to be out here alone.” “she’s not alone.” + smut/angst + az ]

-> BLURB BAR <-

The body is a mechanism, equipped with the most accurate radar for danger— and yours was sounding its alarm.

Hairs stand on the back of your neck, a cold-sweat breaking out against your spine and you can’t help but notice that all those chirping bugs and nibbling squirrels seems to have just…disappeared.

It’s eerily quiet and yet you’re frozen in place, heart hammering in your chest as your hearing seems to amplify tenfold under duress. The stems of flowers tremble in your grasp, the freshly plucked bouquet clutched like a lifeline as your eyes surveil your surroundings.

Perhaps you’d hidden yourself too well when dashing through the woods, leaving behind scraps of clothing for Azriel to find until you were left in nothing but a slip and the jewels adorning your neck. You’d found it charming at first—the thrill of being hunted by him.

But, Azriel was taking too long to find you—long enough for creamsicle skies of sunset to fade away into murky blues. Breath catches when you pick up on the distinct crackle of branches giving under weight and you only have seconds before a burly body appears on your right. “It must be my lucky day.” A rough cadence cuts through the deafening silence. “Seems like I’ve caught a live one!”

Eyes widen as another voice answers from the left, flower petals falling free in the haste of which you turn to face them. An unsettled shiver racks down your spine at the way they look at you; like vultures circling their prey, beady eyes honed in and beaks snapping for a bite. “One who’s easy on the eyes too—lucky day indeed.”

When they step closer, you step back. “It’s not safe for a pretty thing like you to be out here alone.” The words are crooned out like a lullaby but hit the ears like nails on a chalkboard.

You’re too frazzled for your voice box to properly function, mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water as you struggle to maintain your distance. Every inch of you trembles, thoroughly caught off guard as your steps stumble. Lush grass cutting off into dry dirt and scattered branches; crispy leaves and the crawling critters taking shelter beneath them.

That's all you need—just a few more steps until you're able to blend into the heavy camouflage of thick trees and shield yourself from the perception of males and their polluted desires. It's instinct the way you shrink into yourself, maintaining a visual on both predators until you feel the warmth of another at your back. A warmth you recognize; the bulk of his body obscured by the darkness—by his shadows.

Under other circumstances, you might've even laughed at the way the males grins melt into gaping mouths of horror as Azriel appears from behind you; this tall, ominous presence carrying a vicious reputation for torture.

A High Lords most used weapon—his sharpest sword. “She’s not alone.”

He doesn’t allow you to witness the carnage, but you still see the residuals when it’s all over; blood splattered against the handsome cut of his cheekbone. “My hero,” You drawl out, sinking down to your knees to press a kiss to the hilt of the dagger used to save you. “How could I ever repay you?”

[uc1wa]

Hello Xi, I have a slutty question for you, who would want to fuck your tits more Sukuna, Geto, Choso, or Naoya? Also which one would spit in your mouth as they do it?

JESUS NONNIE! THANK YOU FOR BRINGING MY BIG BOY NAOYA >:)

18+ minors dni

tags: fem reader, mention of k wording, objectification, misogynistic men, titty fuckin’ n suckin’

sukuna & naoya no question are gonna fuck your tits! these men loooove objectifying women and making you a toy just for their pleasure.

it’s generous to say you allowed sukuna to fuck your tits the first time it happened. rather, a demanding and blunt, "pull your tits out." and you know who your questionable lover is. he’s a man of limited wording and he’ll be quick to take that pretty, dumb life away from you if you’re not falling to your knees in a mere second.

it’s also generous to say he fucks your tits. when you squish your soft and supple flesh for his cocks, you’re the only one moving. knees getting bruised while a bead of sweat drips down your neck, moving up and down on his lengths while dark and beady eyes watch you expectantly. (and he doesn’t warn you when he cums, but you better not waste it, duh)

naoya, though… he’s sick.

wear a shirt that has an inch of cleavage showing, you’re getting called a slut and a whore the entire time you’re out. you’re out for dinner and he’s leaning across the table to remind you, "dress like a fuckin’ whore and i’m gonna fuck those slutty tits like one. i should be embarrassed to take you out dressed like that, should just let…" he looks to a group of men sitting a few tables over, "them fuck you, ‘cause that’s what you want right? dressing for fuckin’ attention."

it’s embarassing going out with your boyfriend. you only wanted to dress all pretty for him, right?

don’t worry, he’ll appreciate your perky titties when he’s pushing you on the floor the second you walk in the door. naoya doesn’t bother taking your top off, he just pulls your breasts out and fucks you. when your eyes close and mouth open instinctively, he’s spitting all over your lips, enjoying the view of his lil whore while he’s cumming all over your chest n face.

"don’t wash that shirt, you can wear it out… like that." with some nasty cum stains littering the collar of it!

lil note: choso moans like crazy when he fucks your tits. he feels so dirty and filthy and tears fill the corner of his eyes when he finishes on you. geto prefers your pussy and ass, but he’ll still grope your perky titties. he likes suckin’ on them when he fucks you.

[johnpriceslamb]

can we get Arthur Morgan as like a daddy caregiver? I love your writing sm 🥺💓 thank you!!

𝓑𝓔𝓛𝓞𝓥𝓔𝓓 𝓒𝓐𝓡𝓔𝓖𝓘𝓥𝓔𝓡 ,

꒰୨୧꒱ never fear, papa-Arthur is here ₊˚⊹♡ !!

BEFORE YOU PROCEED ┊fem ! reader • little ! reader • Arthur Morgan if he was a caregiver/papa • fluff fluff fluff • cowboy papa ?! • reader is mentioned 2 have hair that allows itself to be brushed easily • OOC Arthur -.- • mini head cannons

Warm, like the sun shining amongst the early frost-spring morning dawn. The snow melts, and reveals a beautiful array of wildflowers which bloom with colour. Loving, as a dutiful teddy bear who gave the toastiest cuddles. And finally.. Cheeky, as a fox would as it titters around a bunny to play around with. The epitome of what Arthur was like, as a daddy.

“Papa.” You tug on his sleeve. You sat on-top of a burberry-fluffed up bedroll, legs spread in a W shape with a small plushie resting on your lap. What was he doing? You weren’t too interested to bother in finding out, other than wanting him back in bed to cuddle.

“…Papa >:(.”

“I hear ya, I hear ya.” He rolls his eyes, lazily plopping beside you on the edge of the roll. Your thoughts vanish easily as he grabs you by the waist and easily places you on his lap. You eagerly wave your legs because of the fact that it did not reach the floors when you sat on daddy’s lap like a tiny kitten whom wants to be groomed with the nails of her owners hand. Cuddle, your face quite literally demanded.

He did not hesitate at all, immediately wrapping his arms around your waist and cradles you.

You looked like you were in a doze, almost sleepy-like because of the way you rested your dainty head on his chest. Perhaps it was because of his warmth

He looks at you with that lazy dog grin again. A soft squeeze from his arms around your waist which pulls you back from your thoughts. And you hear the cacophonous southern drawl which deepens the second he speaks, “What’s my lil’ girl thinkin’ about, hmm?”

“Nuthiiiin’,” you cheekily giggle. You purposefully tinker those long lashes of yours, beady eyes staring up at his.

He looks at you with narrowed eyes. Something was clearly up.

“I don’t believe you for a second.” He lowly mumbles right next to your ear, squishing you playfully. You squeal and giggle.

His hugs were as sweet as marshmallows. You felt safe, he felt safe. Something about those hard, worn muscles coming to trap you into a bear-hug gives you the most happiest butterflies in your tummy. A soft nuzzle to your cheek, the stubble grazes the swells of your temple lightly.

You try to stifle the soft giggles escaping your lips. The large oak tree that loomed and towered over you hid your little figure easily. The bark you leaned upon stenches of fresh petrichor, invigorating. It scratches at your soft skin- but in a good way. The sun kisses at your skin prettily, but the small straw-hat adorned with a light pink ribbon shields the heat rays away from your face.

The faint grunts of spewing numbers out from papa was heard from afar. You hope that he doesn’t find you as easily as he did last round. You were quick, but he was quicker.

The wind sways and flows, allowing yourself to cool down slightly from the sun which shines through peaks of the bunched up leaves from above. It was warm, warm alike of daddy’s hugs. Warm like the way he looks at you. Warm like his hands which come to clamp onto yours heavily to allow the numbing cold fading to warmth.

You cover your lips with your hands as he approaches nearby. You crouch down, trying to peak your head.

That deep, familiar southern drawl hisses- almost like a snake, but with less venom and more teasing in nature. A crunch of leaves, followed with another, and a jingle of spurs. “Where could my little girl be..”

The air stills, just for a moment.

“Found ya.”

You squeal loudly and laugh, and he traps you in his arms again. The hat you wore fell to the grass. You felt weak in his embrace, but you weren’t afraid. How the small wildflowers around you danced around with the two of you happily, you squirm and giggle at the large adrenaline rush which spiked you in the heart as soon as you heard his footsteps.

The grass prickles around your ankles, the same sensation of his stubble which grazes near your cheek.

He snickers at your startled reaction, before cheekily grinning and poking you in the side. “Either I’m real good at this game, or you suck.”

You gasp.

Sometimes, days can get too lazy and things move much slower. You feel yourself sink into the bedroll, even more so as the the clock ticks ever.. so.. slowly. The stuffies around unconsciously squeak at the little girl to get up and start the day, but alas- you never heard.

Papa sits behind you, and you sit in front of him. The same teddy bear from earlier is plopped on your lap, as you yawn loudly from the eager amounts of fun you had a few moments ago. Your legs are tired and jelly-like, and your doe eyes almost succumb to sleep as he busily combs your knotty hair out.

You were too busy trying not to fall asleep to worry about the knots in your hair. You barely even felt the tugs of the brush forcefully breaking the knots into separate hair lines because of how gentle he was.

With just a few more strokes of the pricks from the comb, your hair feels less messier then before. The fluffy bloomers and the gossamer-made top makes it far more harder to succumb to not slumber.

“There we go,” He coos softly. As soon as he puts the brush down, the back of your head falls onto his chest with a snooze. He snickers at your sleepy state. It’s certain that the small game of hide and seek took a toll on your energy.

“Sleepy..” You mumble. Oh so adorably, too cute for his own liking. It was like looking at a pup.

“I know, girl. I know.” He coddles you gently, feeling a tad bit guilty, “c’mon, let’t take a small nap. Don’t want my baby to be all grumpy.”

“Cuddle..” He wants to roll his eyes badly, but resists as you sleepily pull him in. Those same, warm arms come to squish you like a baby mouse in the grip of a bears paw, but with no intention to harm.

[blooberrries]

『monday misery』 — yuji

— pairing: yuji x reader — genre: college/university au, slight crack — wc: 1.7k — rated: sfw — notes: when inspiration strikes you gotta follow it ya know. this cracked me up more than it probably should have

prompt: I don't know why you've got a ferret on a leash but at least I've stopped crying on public transportation to watch that lil guy go

The tears are still damp on your cheeks, another set budding and ready to go, when you see it. Something small, something wriggly, something wormy.

Something that has absolutely no business being on the 8AM train into the city central.

Just moments ago it felt like the world could come to a crumbling end around you, and you’d embrace it all while sitting there and doing nothing but emptying your tear ducts of every single drop of moisture they could spare. You literally could not imagine a single event that would have stopped your exhaustion and assignment deadline-fueled weeping. You wouldn’t have been surprised if you just kept on crying, forever. The future was bleak and not set to look up anytime soon with an 8.30AM lecture looming on the horizon.

But this… this is a variable you never could have predicted.

The sheer lunacy of it has stopped your tears in their tracks, and now you’re watching the poor guy sitting across from you like he’s an animal in a zoo. He has noticed, and it has made him sweat. A large hand comes to scratch the back of his neck, fingers ruffling the two-toned hair. The cherry-blossom mop atop his head really only adds to the comedy of what you’re witnessing.

Something is worming around under this man’s clothes. Which, you have to admit, does sound like a poor excuse to be drilling holes into him right now with your eyes – but that’s not it! You saw something poke out earlier. Something furry, with beady eyes and such rapid twitching head movements you’d swear the thing was on crack.

It’s a fucking ferret.

The worst part is, no one else around you has even noticed! Or maybe they don’t care. Truthfully, they seem to be giving this guy a wide berth— and you for that matter, being across from him and all that. Or maybe it was the silent weeping and looking out the window like you’re in your own early 2000s music video. There’s no way to know.

To his credit, cherry guy looks embarrassed. Good. You don’t want him thinking it’s anything normal to tote around a ferret in the quiet carriage, like some noodle-shaped teacup dog. The only way he could get away with it is if he at least had one of those exorbitant handbags he was keeping it in. Unfortunately, it doesn’t seem like any vessel on this green earth, luxury or otherwise, could keep this tiny demon contained.

Your eyes burn in the aftermath of your sleep deprivation and crying spell as you watch the man try and push the ferret’s head back into hiding, and the little mongrel, without even a split-second of hesitation, chomps down on the closest finger. Cherry guy whimpers, eyes slipping closed in something akin to defeat and resignation.

At this point you’re beginning to feel that he didn’t bring the ferret, but instead the ferret brought him.

A few minutes is what it takes for cherry guy to gather the strewn shreds of his pride. When he opens his eyes next, their chocolate hues meet your own. He leans forward a little, as much as he can without the hell noodle slipping loose from his cotton prison, and whispers ever so softly across the space.

“His name is Mahito.”

You frown, and can physically feel your eyebrows scrunching together like it was a crime they had ever been apart. “What, like the drink?”

Apparently you hadn’t asked that as quietly as you’d thought, because you get shushed by someone three seats down right after. Wait– three seats? There’s no way they’ve all moved even further away.

Cherry guy looks like he is seriously contemplating the question, and you wonder if the ferret is even his or just some poor animal he snatched off the streets. “… No. Probably… not.”

You stare at him, sniffling. Your face is almost entirely dry now, skin feeling tight instead of damp. “Uh-huh.”

Steadily, the man’s face begins to flush as mortification warms his sun-kissed skin. Silence beats painfully on between you. Eventually, you break it.

“So, uh. You do this often? Carry around a ferret in your shirt?”

The flush spreads to cherry guy’s ears. “Um, no. That would be weird.”

You incline your head, lips pressed firmly together so you don’t let a laugh slip and make him feel worse. “Indeed.”

“He’s not mine,” he blurts suddenly, and like the ferret has a flourishing vocabulary and outstanding comprehension of the human language, he rips out of the bottom of cherry guy’s shirt and sinks his teeth into the flesh between his thumb and forefinger in retribution. You wince, and the poor man has to cram his fist to his mouth at the speed of light to muffle the slew of profanity that begins to escape.

A few moments full of deep, meditative breathing later, he lowers his fist and scowls at the ferret that is only now removing his jaw from the tender flesh of his hand. He hisses lowly, shaking out his hand. “You little rat bastard. Just you wait till we get home and Sukuna finds out you snuck into my backpack again. You’re gonna get sent to macaroni prison for sure.”

You raise your brows. Ah, so that’s what must have happened. That actually explains a lot. You can’t help your smile now. “What a darling little angel.”

Cherry guy’s head snaps up to shoot you an incredulous– nay, borderline affronted look. “He’s awful, truly. Actual hellspawn. I have to buy a new gaming headset every other week because the little monster chews through the cords so often. I tried keeping my door locked while I was out but the little bastard just turns his body to liquid or something and worms his way under.”

A strangled sound escapes you when you barely manage to lock down your laugh in time. Cherry guy continues, apparently needing to vent about the foot-long menace more than he’d anticipated.

“My brother actually already replaced his door with one that doesn’t have a big gap at the bottom, but he keeps refusing to do it for mine every time I ask because he thinks it’s funny that his little agent of rat chaos eats through half my stuff on the daily.” He huffs, glaring at the wriggling noodle that he has now trapped in his hold. An older woman gives a very strongly disapproving look from four seats down before returning to her killer sudoku. “I have not known peace since he has entered the house.”

You wince, feeling a little sympathetic. “Damn. How long has your brother had him?”

You expect it to be an awful long time, based on how burdened this man seems to be by the mere existence of this ferret. His answer makes you physically bite down your reaction, your entire body tensing from the effort.

“Uh, a month or two.”

Yikes. You’re scared to think of what the rodent might do once he’s actually settled in.

Silence settles between the two of you once more, broken the chime of the conductor’s voice echoing over the speakers as you come one stop closer to the city. A few people disembark, including the lady that gave the stink eye earlier. She does it again as she steps off, and cherry guy shrinks into his seat. The doors close, and once more silence falls, though more comfortable than the first time.

A while later, the man shifts, a complete contradiction to the tornado of movement that the creature in his hand is doing. The noises escaping the little thing are hard to ignore, and even harder to keep a straight face at.

“What, uh… what were you crying about?”

You blink at him as your gaze returns from the window. You’d actually forgotten you were crying earlier, which is pretty funny considering at the time you were acting like the world was about to end for a solid fifteen minutes at least.

“Oh,” you say. It’s your turn to flush a bit in embarrassment. “Uni assignment, due today. There was a spillage and, um, that doesn’t tend to bode well for artwork on paper.”

Cherry guy winces. “My condolences.”

You nod, allowing a moment of silence for the work of art your assignment could have been, before speaking again. “Thanks… and, well, that’s one good deed your little hellspawn has done. Seeing him wriggling around under there like he was about to burst from your chest definitely distracted me from my existential crisis.”

Cherry guy hums, a small smile playing at the corners of his lips. “Okay. I guess I’ll put in a good word for him when we get home.”

You smile, whatever you were about to say next interrupted by the chime of the conductor announcing your next stop to be the destination you need to get to campus. Out of habit, you gather your things and stand, before pausing and turning your gaze to the pink-haired man still seated and wrangling a chaos being with the viscosity of YouTube slime. After having another look at him, it’s clear he’s a fellow university student. You’re guessing he was on his way to his classes when he discovered the stowaway in his bag. No doubt he now has to head back home and drop the ferret off before doubling back for his own classes.

You have a lecture at 8.30AM, but to be honest… you don’t want to spend the rest of the day miserable and mourning your assignment from the get-go. Talking with this random guy about his ratchet ferret has completely cancelled out your earlier feelings of angst, and it’s… nice. You kind of want to return the favour and help distract him from his misery.

The doors begin to shut, and the pink-haired man looks up in alarm as he notices you’re still here. “Wait, won’t you–“

“Yeah,” you say, swivelling on the spot and plopping down right next to him. You turn your head with a smile. “But that’s okay. Gotta look after my mental health and all, you know?”

He blinks at you for a second, before a warm smile breaks onto his face. He’s handsome, you notice from this close up. Almost painfully so.

“Yuji,” he says, by way of introduction. You return with your own name, and he beams wider. “Wanna hear about the time Mahito got into a fight with my brother’s other ferret Jogo?”

“Absolutely.”

[half-dead-ham]

With chaos brings Justice

My last entry for the DpxDCshipweek, sad I couldn't get through it in it entirety, but happy I made some for it at all!

links: [Ao3] Wc: 6656 Cw: implied/referenced torture

John Constantine was a man of few pleasures. He liked booze, nights with a full bed and belly, and keeping his head attached to his shoulders.

 So when he felt a surge of chaos magic flood the board room of the Justice League Watchtower one long morning into their bi-monthly meeting that for some reason he decided to show up to, he felt any chance of him recovering this day with booze or food leave the solar system entirely.

 Before the other Leaguers even felt the pressure change that came with teleporting magics John was on his feet, readying a defence spell just in case who (or what) decided to attack first, talk second. ‘Course the other gits just saw him knock back his chair with a flask of whatever he’d poured himself last night and thought for a second he was trollied.

 He always loved it when the other blokes did that. Fuckin’ hell, where was Zatanna when you needed her?

 He would’ve cracked a smile when the rest of them finally got the memo that sumthin’ foul was afoot, but John was too focused on the fact that he recognized the magic to try and play this off as anything but deadly serious. Why was he the only one here that was able to deal with this particular brand of chaos? Why couldn’t he have bloody stayed home like all the other bloody times he’d missed a meeting?

 The magic was perceptible now, a swirling red cloud hovering over the conference table like it might start raining blood, a static in the air, the smell of lamp oil and chaos magic making John's nose twitch. There wasn’t any use in trying to fool himself as a figure formed in the cloud, and any trace of those lovely effects of his bevvy of choice went straight out the airlock.

 A pale-faced child emerged from the mist, curly black hair with two styled points partially obscuring a set of beady black eyes that looked down their nose at the group surrounding the table.

 “Klarion,” the teen turned to John, expression unusually flat. The witch boy Hadn’t yet said anything, and his blasted familiar kept its place on his shoulder, hissing but not leaping into action.

 Now that John got a good look at the chaos magic user he almost wanted to look surprised. Klarion had changed his style; no longer was he dressed in puritan settler chic, now he wore dark jeans with black converse, a white t-shirt with the runic symbol for creation in red, and a black sleeveless overcoat. It looked grunge, and John could almost appreciate it.

 Almost.

 “Now what does the infamous Witch Boy need that he’s ‘ported in 'on our lovely gathering?” John asked, seeing as the teen (an’ he looked like a proper teen now, didn’ he?) wasn’t feeling especially chatty. His defensive spell was almost complete, if John could just keep the lil shit distracted for a little longer-

 “Stupid heroes, I have come because I have a task for you,” the Witch boy announced, looking like he sucked a lemon while saying it.

 John could see a few others in the room looking at each other in confusion, but he kept his eyes firm on the brat in front of him. “Oh? An’ what task would require our services, oh mighty mage?”

 The Witch Boy’s eyes narrowed at him, clearly not liking the sarcasm in his tone. Surprisingly, to him at least, Klarion turned to Superman, not falling to the taunt like he would’ve before.

 “Someone I respect has been captured by the American government, and while I would have no problem raising the place to the ground myself-” more than a few of the heroes present tense at that, “-this person would only find more trouble in me doing so.”

 Now that brought up a nice heap of questions for the surrounding men in tights. Why, or better yet how does Klarion know someone that needs help from the Justice League. Someone who he apparently respects enough to go for help from a group of stuffy adults with sticks shoved so far up their-

 "And why should we help you?" The big ol' Bat asks what's on the tip of everyone's tongues.

 Klarion turns to the Caped Crusader with the most serious expression John had ever seen on the Witch Boy. "Because the High King of the Dead needs help escaping the living, and you guys love to make sure this stupid plane of existence doesn't fall to war."

~~~~~

   "You seriously aren't helping, Witch Boy!" Danny calls out to the cackling teenager as he evades yet another tentacle from the thing coming out of the side of a large floating island. More of a mountain, really, but Danny's a little too tied up to care.

 "Hit 'em again!" The pale-faced teen on the sidelines jeered as the ghost boy shot off another volley of ectoblasts towards what he's starting to dub as a hermit-ectopus. Grimacing, Danny did just that, raining a hail of green towards the writing mass of tentacles, finally pushing the thing back in its cave enough so that he could seal the entrance with ice.

 With that out of the way, Danny could finally take a breather. He put his hands on his knees for stability as he panted, annoyed. Ancients curse that stupid Witch Boy, he may not need to breathe in this form, but that was one hell of a workout. 

 The cackling to his left was finally starting to die down, but not before he heard the idiot making his way closer. One final exhale and he straightened back up, giving the other teen a side glare Mr. Lancer would be proud of.

 "Give me one good reason I shouldn't soup you right now, cat boy," he demanded with a scowl as he crossed his arms.

 "'Cause you still need me to help you get that stupid antidote for your stupid friends!" Klarion quipped back immediately, smug smirk stuck on his face. "Besides, it's not like your weak little can'll be able to do anything to me."

 "You're the one who poisoned them in the first place," he sneered back, letting his hatred of the other boy leak out through his aura while trying not to worry himself over Sam and Tucker back home.

 Klarion got closer, smirk growing menacingly wider, "Well who was the ghost that kept ignoring me? This is your fault and you know it."

 Danny said nothing, just punched Klarion in the face before flying off into the mountain grumbling, leaving the Witch Boy to deal with the blood falling onto his tie by himself.

~~~~~

   "Constantine, what do you know about this 'High King of the Dead'?" Batman asked after pulling the mage into the hall. They had left Superman to deal with the details and negotiations. He's always been better at that.

 "Not much, Batsy," John sighed, really wishing he could pull out a smoke. If it weren't for those blasted 'no smoking' rules the furry in front of him enforced, he'd be chugging like a train right 'bout now.

 Batman simply glared at the man for a moment before John got the unsaid ‘well, get on with it’. “Alright, alright, I do know some things, but I don’t know how useful they’ll be!”

 “Explain.”

 John sighed, “Not much information about the ruling body of the dead gets through to the realm of the living, that whole ‘dead men tell no tales’ bit. What I know of a King of the dead was that he was a right bastard that wanted his cake and e��ryone else's. Got locked in some coffin or what have you by his ruling court, and hasn’t been heard from for about two millennia ‘til the new one came about.”

 “And this new king, is he anything like the last one?”

 Before John could confirm or contradict the question a sharp laugh came from the other side of the conference doors. The two detectives looked at each other before heading back in, Klarion watching from his seat on the table as they rejoined the group.

 “The new High King of the Dead is nothing like the last one,” the Witch Boy stated with a sneer.

 Batman turned to Superman, asking with a silent tilt of the head. He got a head shake and shrug in return. “We were talking about why he would need us specifically when he just started laughing.”

 “Oh?” The occult detective spoke up, “And what makes you say that? If you respect him he must be pretty similar, eh? Why do you or him need our help?”

 Klarion looked down, a pinched expression taking over his face. “He’s nothing like me. He’s good.”

~~~~~

   Wind tore through Danny’s hair as he flew up to the massive Vortex rampaging through mid- America. He could barely see five feet in front of him before a tree or the rare car nearly takes him out of the sky. Klarion’s magic could be seen on his ten o’clock, trying to stop the raging wind before it throws something at him too. Danny dove to grab onto the magic caster, turning him intangible before the broad side of a barn could crash into him.

 “What did you even do to make him this angry‽” Danny yells over the wind, pulling the concentrating Witch boy to another spot so they could be harder to hit. It doesn’t help, as half a tree still nearly decapitates them.

 “Absolutely nothing!” Klarion ground back through his teeth, “He just started chasing me through the Realms! I thought I could lose him in this plane but he just followed me!”

 Another tree sailed their way, and Danny had to drag the other teen out of its path. He shot a volley of ectoblasts at some clumps of dirt launching themselves at them, breaking them up before they were close enough to hit them.

 “How long ‘til your spell finishes‽” Danny asks, throwing more ectoblasts into the swirling vortex of carnage. The tornado consumes them greedily, returning fire with debris from an old storage barn it had picked up.

 “Not fast enough!” Klarion shouts back, now flying under his own power as the harder parts of the spell conclude.

 They weave through projectiles after that, Danny obliterating the larger objects thrown their way so Klarion could focus more on his spell. They were at least lucky enough that they had lured Vortex out to farm country, where they could easily provoke him out of the way of any towns. That left just the crops and their tools for the weather ghost to throw.

 At least, until Danny spotted some larger buildings.

 “Better speed that spell up, Witch Boy!” Danny urged, realizing they were heading towards the city, and fast.

 “I’m going as fast as I can!” Was all the other teen could retort as he ground his teeth further, doubling his efforts anyway. Red light swirled fiercely around the pale boy, encircling him and his familiar before suddenly launching outwards to wrap around the tornado. The wind picked it up easily, quickly turning the angry winds and clouds above a sickening blood red colour. A triumphant grin spreads across Klarion’s face at the turn of events, a giggle bubbling up before being stolen by the wind. Danny would almost be scared at the situation if it were him that smile was going against, but right now he was just a little relieved.

 Klarion spoke one final word to his spell, and with it the red smoke pulsed bright, lighting up the whole cloud before the funnel just disappeared, leaving some dark yet still clouds above them. Danny could only stare at the sight in awe.

 “What did you do dude?” He asked, noticing the odd change in the air around them. It was strangely still, almost-

 “I froze the air in place, of course,” Klarion huffed hotly, and Danny turned his awed gaze to the teen next to him.

 “You froze the air?” 

 “Well,” Klarion’s cheeks started to gain an almost normal complexion as his blush rose at the attention. “It’s not frozen frozen, but I made it so it wouldn’t move. So yes, I froze the air.”

 When Danny didn’t move or change his expression Klarion’s blush only grew. Teekl gave a lax “meow” from the Witch Boy’s shoulders, breaking Danny’s trance and allowing Klarion the time to unruffle his proverbial feathers. The witch Boy coughed lightly in his hand as he turned away.

 “Teekl’s right, shouldn’t you be doing your job now? I’ve done all the hard work, pick up the slack Ghost Boy.” Only his familiar saw the light green blush spread over the ghosts cheeks before he gave a nod and flew off towards where he could sense the weather spirit.

 “Meow,” Teekl commented playfully.

 Klarion blushed harder, “Oh shut up you hairball.”

~~~~~

   The Javelin was speeding into earth's atmosphere towards the Americas, half of the Leaguers who had been in the meeting previously plus one chaos mage nestled inside. They had decided an impromptu rescue mission was in order, despite some worries of the Witch Boy leading item into a trap.

 Batman remedied this by keeping Superman on standby, Shazam on call, and taking Manhunter with them to catch any lies the teen might be telling them.

 The plane was dead quiet, and it was honestly making Hal antsy, especially sitting so close to someone they consider an enemy. His solution? Small talk.

 “So,” the green lantern drawled as he swiveled his chair to face the teen. “From the way you talk about this King it sounds like you have something a little more than ‘respect’ for the guy. Care to elaborate?”

 Klarion gave the Green Lantern a long side eye, making Hal even antsier in his seat. Seriously, how can a kid this dorky be this creepy?

 A terse meow from the cat in the boy’s lap and the stare broke, and suddenly Hal felt he could breathe again. Klarion sighed heavily, like the topic exhausted him before he even started, but before Hal could rescind his words the Witch Boy was talking.

 “The King of the Dead and I have known each other for a few years now,” he started. “And while at the beginning we were basically at each other's throats, after his coronation we figured out we didn’t really want to be enemies anymore. Looking back we had probably already decided that without saying anything, but it just got awkward to think about after.”

 “This king was crowned recently?” Batman asked from his place at the wheel.

 “Within the last three years, if I remember right,” Klarion replied flippantly. The Bat nodded, taking his focus back to flying to their charted destination. Not wanting more stifling silence, Hal picked the conversation back up.

 “If you’ve known the King of the Dead for over three years you guys must be pretty close, huh?”

 The Witch Boy huffed, “Yes, you could say that.”

 “So could you maybe tell us more about him? What’s he like? Does he have a hobby? Don’t leave us hanging man!” Hal was encroaching on a jeer with his tone, though he died down quickly at the flat stare he received from both mage and familiar. If Diana hadn’t spoken up he might've been afraid of turning into a toad.

 “I am also curious, Klarion. You haven’t told us much about someone you seem to care greatly over, anything you could tell us about them would help us settle whatever dealings they have with the American government.” At the moment the princess mentioned the government Teekl was on alert, Klarion’s expression soured with the change.

 “The ‘dealings’ they have with your stupid higher powers is that they want to hunt his kind for sport and resources,” He spat, to the astonishment of the league members. Bruce and Diana shared a glance from the front seats, dread seeping into Bruce’s gut at the news.

 “Could you explain that further? We need to know if we want to fix this,” Diana asked more seriously, motioning for Hal to take her seat as copilot so she could focus more on the conversation at hand.

 (Hal was thankful for the distraction.)

 “Your government,” the teen hissed, eyes glinting dangerously red before settling back to their eerie black. “Has been trying to catch Phantom since before I met him. They’ve deemed anything that holds ectoplasm in their body as unfeeling and mindless, and deemed them worthy of extermination and experimentation.”

 “That can’t be legal, non-humans are protected under the Metahuman rights acts.” Diana comments with a frown.

 Klarion rolls his eyes at the princess, “Everyone says that when they hear it, but I assure you, Phantom has talked my ear off about the Anti-ecto acts more times than I care to count. They’re real, and heavily enforced.”

 Diana gave a sidelong glance to the front of the ship, noticing Batman already searching for these ‘acts’ while ever so slightly speeding up their flight. It was worrying that even Bruce didn’t know about this, considering his incessant need to keep up with things that could inevitably cause harm to those he wants to protect. She left that for him to deal with, refocusing the conversation back to lighter topics. “You mentioned ‘Phantom’, is this the king’s name?”

 The Witch Boy gave a small hum, hand moving to idly stroke Teekl’s fur as they settled with the change of topic. “He told me it was originally the name he chose for himself when he started protecting his little town, and by the time he was crowned the ghosts all knew him by that name and it stuck.”

 “Oh? The king is a hero?” Aside from Deadman, she had never heard of any spirits calling themselves heroes. Though it wasn’t entirely a surprise that another spirit wished to help others from beyond the grave.

 Another hum from the teen in front of her, face reading more thoughtful as he presumably went back to the first time they had met. “Yes, he was doing something incredibly stupid, though he called it ‘heroic’ at the time. I still don’t see why he needed to destroy that artifact after he rewrote reality, but then again he was still a boy when he did that.”

 …

 “Pardon?” Diana said, stunned. Klarion either didn't notice the stunned silence he had created or didn’t care as he continued.

 “After that I went to play with him every so often, sometimes playing a few pranks so he would stop ignoring me. He absolutely hated me when we first started, but I like to think I grew on him,” the Witch Boy gave a smirk at the memory, still not noticing the silence in the shuttle.

 She could feel Hal’s eyes on them, incredulity practically oozing from his seat in front of her. Instead of meeting the Green Lanterns with one that was sure to match, she looked to J’onn, who had quietly been assessing their guest the whole flight. He had his head cocked as he faced the teen, but nodded when Diana turned. The boy told no lies.

 They might need to reassess this King of the Dead’s threat level.

~~~~~

   A cacophony of cheers resound in the courtyard of Pariah’s Keep, now renamed officially to Phantom’s Fortress with the crowning of the new king. Danny peered out from beyond the curtain to the courtyard, his ascendance ceremony freshly ended and a crown of arora and ice twirling lazily over his snow white hair.

 “I still can’t believe this many ghosts want me on the throne… I thought everyone hated me with the way I chase them out of Amity all the time…” He marveled to himself, still not quite believing what just happened. He was a King now. He had people to rule. And they actually liked him.

 Though with the reputation of the last king, he supposed that a potato could’ve taken the throne and they would’ve been happy.

 “Is it that hard to believe that maybe you aren’t that hard to like?” A voice jokes from behind the new king, and turning from his peeping spot he couldn’t help the grin that spread. Klarion was standing not too far behind him, one arm behind his back in the clothes they picked out together. He looked good, like he belonged in this century now, and even with his posture radiating nervous energy, Danny could tell he was a lot more comfortable in a t-shirt and jeans than that stuffy puritan suit.

 “I was thinking those odds were in-phantasmal, but I guess the chance was higher than I thought. I’m glad you could make it.” His smile grew slightly at the pink tint to the Witch Boy’s ears, but he went against the thought of pointing out how cute it was.

 Klarion scoffed, as though the notion of not coming was even something that crossed his mind. “As a lord of chaos, it would be remiss of me to not show up for the coronation of a potential fellow lord. Besides, you asked me to come specifically, it would be impolite to refuse.”

 Danny gave a snort at the response, he knew very well that if the other teen didn’t want to be here he would’ve refused the invitation outright. It was nice not having to fight the other anymore, after the battle with Vortex they started fighting less and hanging out more, Danny could even take him to the mall now without a struggle. Sure, Klarion was still trapped in the past with his underground village, but slowly he was starting to relax, have some fun that didn’t destroy everything around him.

 It was nice to hang out with someone he didn’t have to hold back with.

 “So, is there a reason you’re just standing there awkwardly?” Danny asked, letting a chuckle escape at the flat stare he received. A year ago he would’ve gotten a magic blast to the face for that.

 Instead Klarion sighed, eyes glancing around the ornate hall before sighing again. “I figured- I mean- I- ugh…” the Witch Boy kept stuttering before petering off into a grumble. Danny accidentally let another chuckle escape at how cute the other teen was being, causing said teen to glare a hole into the carpet, before letting out a growl. He stomped up to Danny, so close he had to back up a step or they would be in each other's personal space, and suddenly his vision was full of orange and purple with a spatter of red.

 Another step back put the colours in focus. A bouquet of flowers was being thrust towards him by a furiously blushing Klarion, whose eyes were currently on a rather interesting vase.

 “What are these for?” Danny asked as he relieved the bouquet from the others' vice grip.

 “For you, to congratulate you on becoming king. The orange ones are lilies, the purple flowers are irises and gerberas, and the little red ones are bloody williams. The lady at the store said they say “I’m happy for your success” in flower language.” Klarion looked like he was ready to say more, he probably had a whole speech about these, but Danny just couldn’t get over the fact that one of the biggest (previous) pains in his ass just started blushing and gave him flowers.

 “Thank you,” he said, cutting off whatever Klarion was rambling about with a genuine smile. Klarion stared for a second, before blinking and clearing his throat.

 “Of course,” he replied, blush spreading all the way down his neck.

~~~~~

   The Javelin touched down a ways off of a squat white building. It was rather nondescript, save for the perimeter fencing circling the compound lined with guards.

 “This is the place?” Batman asked tersely as they disembarked the plane. None of the armed men had seen them yet, it would give them the advantage in the infiltration.

 “I wouldn’t lie to you about something so important,” the Witch Boy replied, narrowing his eyes at the compound before them. He could feel Danny in there, the strange mix of life and death energies radiating off the half-ghost was an ever present comfort to the Witch boy by now, and he was especially glad for it now.

 He wouldn’t have been able to find him so quickly without it.

 “I sense something heavy in the compound,” Manhunter noted with a frown.

 Batman, ever the detective, wanted to know more, “Elaborate.”

 The martian’s face twisted as he focused, reaching out with his mind to better read the heavy -no, oppressive- cloud that covered the compound, before gasping, recognition and anguish passing over as he physically recoiled. Green Lantern was there to steady him by the shoulders before he could so much as stumble.

 “What did you feel?” The Dark Knight compelled once it was clear there were no lasting effects of his reaching out.

 “Pain,” he replied shakily. “So much pain and suffering, hanging over the building like a fog. It is unnaturally powerful, if I hadn’t known beforehand, I would assume an entire city was under attack and not a single building.”

 The Dark Knight said nothing, simply taking what was said to heart. He moved forward with purpose, but before he could get too far a hand held him back. “Wait.”

 Batman looked down at the chaos mage, a single hand splayed out over his chest. “You need to know some things before I take you in there.”

 The  miniscule tilt of the taller man’s cowl was all Klarion needed to continue. “The facility is phase proof, the martian won’t be able to density shift through the walls, and the nature of their weapons are similar to Green Lantern’s constructs. You won’t get hurt badly if they hit you, but I’ve been told they burn.” All vital things to know. Batman's strategy would have to account for this, but he could still sense something from the teen, and so kept quiet.

 “And when we find Phantom? Get every agent you can out of there. He doesn’t like senseless killing, but I will not leave that building standing.”

 Batman gave a single nod, and with that Klarion enveloped the five in the red mist of his magic.

 ∆•∆•∆•∆

 The plan was rather simple, Wonder Woman and Green Lantern were to be dropped off at the entrance to the building as a distraction and to round up the agents while Klarion, Manhunter and Batman were to use Klarion’s magic to infiltrate and locate the King. Klarion’s mist acted as a memetic, letting the gaze of the agents fall past them on their way through the building as they ran deeper to where he could feel Danny. They had to be careful to not touch anyone though, as the moment they did they would be able to see them.

 “Why can’t you teleport us in?” Baman asked as they rounded another stark white corner into another stark white hall.

 “Death energies, do strange things to magic,” Klarion panted his reply. He was not used to actually running, and he couldn’t figure out why some humans actually liked doing the activity. “With so much, charged death and ectoplasm in the air, better to not cause an explosion. So soon.”

 Another swerve and he could feel Danny more, could almost taste that distinct flavour of citrus and menthol, the strange combination of ectoplasm and life that surrounded his ghost. The smell of citrus was strong though, and Klarion was desperately hoping he wasn’t too late with this rescue. The first real good thing he tries to do and he ends up a moment too late.

 “The source of the pain is drawing nearer,” Manhunter informs them as they pass a windowed room. Batman breaks off to take a look inside, calling to the other two to keep going. Klarion never stopped.

 One more corner and the acidic sour smell of citrus was assaulting their noses, and they started passing doors more resembling operating room entrances than offices. Lights were still on over a few as they passed, and Klarion made sure to snake a coil of mist into those that did, leaving screams and indistinct, cut off pleas in their wake. Those ones especially could rot in hell for all he cared, the smell of everdeath roiled off those rooms, alluding to whatever horrors might have been performed in them. He knew only a fraction of the ectoplasm spilt in there was from the one he cherished, but that made them no less guilty.

 The final turn led them to a hall lined with a different type of door, these ones steel grey tinted green. Klarion loathed to see the colours he associated with his spirit used in a mockery against him, keeping Danny away from him. He stalked down, using his magic to blow every door off its hinges as he passed until he hit the one his beloved was in. Turning to face it, he held up his hand, willing his magic to grasp it and tear it from the wall, throwing it down the hall and uncaring what was in the way.

 Emotion charged ectoplasm rolled out of the small cell, settling around their feet like fog and weakly intermingling with klarion’s magic.

 The sight made the mage want to puke. And weep. And decimate this measly world that would dare touch his soul like this.

 Were it not for the Martian's presence he just might have.

 Danny was there, shackled to the wall with chains at his wrists and ankles, head weighed heavy by the collar around his neck and the fucking muzzle on his face. The ghost made no move to the light that now filtered into the space, he hung limply from his chains, lifelessly. Only the faint glow around Danny’s frame gave away that he was not yet truly ended.

 But the green.

 A shaky breath from behind the mage reminded him where he was, and he urgently entered the room. He went to work on the manacles, seemingly seamless, but with one whispered word they were releasing Danny into his arms.

 “Is he?..” The martian started, too afraid to finish the sentence lest it become a reality.

 “No,” Klarion breathed out shakily. “No he’s still… He’ll recover.” He has to.

 “He’s so young,” Manhunter observed with a pained face as Klarion lowered to the floor of the cell, turning the ghost so he could hold him by the shoulders while he worked on getting his ankles freed.

 “He was even younger when he started,” with Danny's ankles freed, all that was left was the inhibitor collar and that damned muzzle. He did away with the muzzle first, desperate to see his cherished spirit's face. No magic was needed for it, thankfully, just a simple lock keeping it around the halfa’s face. Klarion gingerly removed the offending device, tossing it at a wall and making a note of obliterating it before he left. There were already chafe marks around Danny’s cheeks and on his nose, green and nearly raw from it pressing his jaw shut.

 How long has he been here for them to look so raw?

 Klarion had only been away for two months at the most, off on some insignificant errand after finding the piece of an artifact drifting in the Realms. Insignificant because apparently while he was away, his cherished one had gotten captured trying to save one of his people from this moronic group. When he had finally returned, he had to be informed about his capture. The rage he felt then… He hopes Danny wouldn’t be too mad at him for the damage he caused to the Fortress.

 A breathy groan followed by a sharp intake of breath and subsequent coughing brought Klarion out of his what if spiral. Danny was waking up, bleary eyed and confused at first -no doubt concerning his orientation- but a few seconds after the couches settled green eyes focused on black.

 “Hey, Rion,” the ghost king gave a small watery smile. “Glad you could finally make it. How was  your adventure?”

 “Stupid ghost-” Klarion has to reel back the power he was putting behind his voice with a breath that came out more like a sob. “Do you know how worried I was when you weren’t in Amity? In the Fortress? I was away for two damn months and you almost got yourself ended Danny!”

 Danny gave a chuckle that teetered into more of a cough as he weakly wiggled in Klarions lap. “They tried to grab Lunch Lady and Boxed Lunch, what was I supposed to do? It's my job as king to keep them safe-”

“NOT AT YOUR OWN EXPENSE YOU MORON!”

 The outburst silenced the ghost with a small snap of his jaw, followed by a cut off groan at the soreness from its disuse. A light cough broke the tense silence, and Danny sat up slightly to see what made it, eyes immediately sharp with alertness for any possible danger. His eyes landed on Martian Manhunter and that sharpness melted away to confusion.

 “Is that- why- Am I dreaming?” He stuttered, looking between the Justice leaguer and his lover. “Did I pass out so hard I’m actually dreaming my boyfriend came to save me with Martian Manhunter right now? Someone pinch me.” Klarion obliged the request and Danny yelped in pain. “Yep, okay, not a dream. Cool,” He whimpered, eyes now glued to the martian.

 Klarion went back to the task of freeing the ghost from his restraints, but hesitated before taking the collar off. “Do you have enough power to stay in this form if I take this off you?” He asked cautiously.

 Danny looked down, trying to see the band of metal around his neck, but quickly gave up with a sigh. “Probably not, it's taking most of my energy just to stay awake and talk right now.” He looked ashamed to say it, but Klarion was relieved to get a straight answer about his condition for once.

 “I’ll leave it on until we get you somewhere safe then,” Klarion whispered before readjusting his hands and standing up with the ghost boy bridal-style. The energy must have been draining from his cherished, as he only jolted at the movement. He could see Danny's eyes getting heavy, his head pitching forward before righting itself a few more times.

 “You’ll be there when I wake up… Right?” The Ghost boy asked, voice slurring with the effort to remain conscious. Klarion nodded once as he kissed the ghost's forehead -warmer than it should be- and walked back out of the cell. “Of course, my spirit. Rest.”

 One more wobbly nod and the ghost’s eyes closed. Klarion straightened, reigniting his magic with the help of Teekl and pushing it to blow the rest of the cell doors off their hinges. A few other ghosts floated out, and Manhunter helped a few more into the hall. They left slowly, with magical fire crackling in the prison that once held his spirit, catching the ectoplasm alight as the Witch Boy’s face contorted.

 ∆•∆•∆•∆

 The trip back to the Javelin was shorter than the trip into the facility, without the need to be covert they were able to retrace their steps through the building at a much faster pace. Batman regrouped with them just before the exit, and out in the grounds Green Lantern and Wonder Woman had done a great job of distracting and subduing most of the agents. One of them must have gone in and rounded up the scientists too, because they were tied up in a neat little pile a ways off.

 Good, he could burn this place to the ground without worry then.

 Klarion didn’t stop his stride out the compound as his magic spread to lick the walls, fire sparking to life where it touched. He didn’t stop to watch as the fire spread up the walls unnaturally fast, as it spread into the building through the holes it was melting in the reinforced glass. He didn’t pause when an explosion hit the air, the fire most likely finding the medical wing or the weapons vault.

 Klarion only stopped once Danny was securely in the small medbay of the Javelin, held securely in place for takeoff.

~~~~~

   Danny came to slowly, letting the ectoplasm of the Ghost Zone fill his lungs as he breathed deeply… Wait. Ectoplasm? Ghost Zone?? Lungs???

 Screw waking up slowly, Danny bolted up from wherever he was sleeping… and immediately regretted it. A massive headache assaulted his senses, along with about a dozen other aches and pains from his capture, most notably his jaw and starving stomach. Still, assessing the situation came before anything else, so he tried to make himself vertical despite his body's protests. Until a hand on his chest stopped him.

 Klarion met his bleary eyed confusion with a stern stare. He pushed down once more and this time Danny didn’t protest the movement. “It wasn’t a dream?” Danny croaked out, only a little bit surprised at how dry his voice sounded.

 “No it wasn’t a dream,” Klarion replied softly as he pressed a straw to Danny's lips. He was grateful for the first full drink of water he’d gotten in… he doesn't remember how long.

 “And Martian Manhinter? Was he real too then?” Danny asked when his throat no longer felt like sandpaper. Klarion hummed an affirmative as he put the cup back on the nightstand, idly stroking Teelke with his offhand. He takes a second to process that before he nearly bolts up again, startling the familiar and mage alike.

 “Is the Justice League here‽‽”

 A pregnant pause followed the exclamation before the Witch Boy gave a snort, snickering to avoid outright laughing at the bedridden ghost. “No, I left the little humans to fly back to their clubhouse while I took you back to the Realms with a portal.”

 Deflating with the explanation, Danny’s eyes travelled the embroidered constellations on the canopy of his bed, finally relaxing enough to appreciate where he was. Home. He took another deep breath, feeling his ectoplasm replenish itself more than it had in the last month in the GIW facility. The ectoplasm combined with the pine and fire smell of the mage sitting beside him only enforced the fact that he wasn’t there anymore. Tears threatened to fall with that thought.

 His boyfriend came for him. He didn’t doubt he would, but the days passed along and he was starting to lose hope. But not only did Rion come for him, he brought the Justice League, a group he knows Rion has beef with. Traitorously, a tear managed to escape and roll down into his hair.

 “You know, I’ll have to go talk to the League now that you’ve told them about me,” Danny commented, desperate to get out of those thoughts and ignoring the way his voice wobbled.

 “I’m sure you will,” Rion replied, no doubt with a roll of his eyes. “But you need to heal first. You’re in no shape to go talk to a bunch of stupid humans right now.”

 Danny gave a snort, “Those ‘stupid humans’ helped you get me back, right? Maybe drop the stupid when we see them next.”

 Rion only grunted in reply, and so they lapsed into silence again. Danny felt sleep pulling at his mind again, now that he knew he was truly safe with his beloved mage beside him. He didn't fight it for long, but he needed to say one more thing before he truly allowed himself to start healing.

 “Rion,” he mumbled out, getting the attention of the mage with a hum. “Thanks for coming to get me, love you.”

 A rare kind of smile passed the pale teen’s lips then, soft and kind. “I love you too, Danny.”

[semisolidmind]

OKAY BUT THE POST W SWK AND MAC AS LIL MONKEYS..... AGSKABSJAB IM ???🥹?? THE WAY YOU DREW THEM WAS SO CUTE...

THAT IDEA HAS SO MUCH FUN POTENTIAL TO THINK ABOUT OMG

imagine some guy flirting w/ reader or something like that and just two tiny monkeys sitting on her shoulder with a look that screams Murder™ in their tiny beady eyes LMAO

or (alternatively):

some asshole guy starts getting pissy because Reader didn't accept his aggressive advances... and proceeds to get his shit rocked when the two tiny monkeys on Reader's shoulders reveal themselves to be huge monkey boys (which — unfortunately for the guy, aren't very forgiving to those who dare bother their favorite human)

(oh man. and reader doesn't know that the boys are demons yet, so seeing her two lil buddies turn into demon warlords before her eyes would be a bit traumatizing)

but fr i love the idea of reader's adventures with her two tiny monkey companions. she comes to be known as the "monkey lady" in town cause these lil guys are always on or around her while she's at the market. like, they're normally so chaotic; stealing food, overturning baskets and jars, running underfoot and tripping people, riling up any dogs in the area. but now that they're hanging out with reader, they don't really leave her side, and since she buys them food, they're not stealing as much. normally the townspeople would be suspicious of this, but they're reaping the benefits of less monkey mischief, so they don't really care.

that's not say the monkey bros are completely tame. they are still infamous demon warlords, so mass murder is still on the table. just...not when reader is around.

i also really like the image of the two lil guys cuddled up to reader while she sleeps. they don't do it every night (they've got plundering and murder to do, afterall), just like they can't hang out with her every day, but sometimes they'll stay over.

maybe it's a bit of a fight over who gets to sleep where. her chest is one such spot, and swk often gets to it first. but mac likes sleeping in the crook of her neck. it's nice to be curled up in a little ball where he can easily listen to her heartbeat.

[mudandmire]

Ghost

Azriel made a deal with the Mother ten years ago: his service in return for Eris's life. Azriel leaves no impression on the world anymore, no footprints or sounds. The only thing he leaves behind are rivers - endless erosions of blood through the stone he bore the day Eris died. His obedience, in return for Eris's survival. There is no other way.

Yet the decade passes, and The Autumn Court is falling into turmoil. In the midst of the heatwave drying out their crops, trying to discover who wants him dead, and delicately balancing his bargain with the Night Court and the unpredictability of his volatile father - Eris finds an even greater secret. One he probably wasn't ever supposed to know.

AH first chapter is here!! I'm ✨terrified✨ This is for all the lovelies who inspired me, but also those who were so so kind and liked my little pet project. I have little experience being in such a forward, loving community, where every praise you have is shared. I adore it, I'm working to be more like y'all because there's nothing like kindness shared ❤️

I have no idea what I'm doing 🫠. I am Completely Obsessed with this idea - it's taken over all my thoughts at work, too, so that's fun. Hope you enjoy a lil snippet from the chapter :D

...

The woods hang their breath; fog in the trees, swirling through the limbs of pines. The flurry comes down faster collecting in the strands of Eris's hair and in his sooty eyelashes.

At his side, his blade weighs heavy. The two males continue to talk over the body sprawled in the snow. Their voices ring from far away, lost to the near silence the forest has collected around them in this little clearing.

Azriel makes to take a step toward Eris, but jerks back like a string being pulled taut. He shifts to right the strain, casting a narrow-eyed glance to the barren branches, as if something sits there—watching.

"Would you stop running your mouth and get the knife?" The second male points a long, pale finger to the bag in the snow, having been shucked off in relief when they made it to the clearing.

The knuckles on his fingers are raw, a ruddy red color from dragging a body through the cold. Azriel's shadows follow his gaze, the rage filtered through them that he has no allowance to feel. He watches him; finds the aspects of his face and the clothes he wears and documents it. The male isn't all that impressive, and apart from having the same pointed ears high fae have, he would've easily mistaken him for a lower rank: a farmer, perhaps.

White flakes catch on the dark, muddy brown strands of the fae's hair. He brushes at his runny nose as his beady, dark eyes scan over the clearing.

They sweep over where Azriel is standing, and continue on.

"Got it!" The second male shouts, echoing through the still silent woods. Not a bird calls back. Not a single scamper of little paws through the crunch of snow and twigs answers.

Foolish fae, they should know better than to trust a silent wood. Azriel thinks to himself, the shadows chittering in agreement.

The first male rubs his hands together, the friction faint, his breath pooling like great clouds in front of his narrow face. "Fucking finally." He says, and pulls out a crumpled, awkwardly folded piece of paper from his pocket. "Now, give it here."

He passes the knife over. An unassuming silver shine that catches the watery light, it's hilt wrapped in worn leather. It looks like it would be lost in an armory and never found again.

Azriel feels the muscles along his shoulders tense, his legs stiffening in the snow as if being rooted to the earth. He's much more comfortable with the knife in the second males hand—a little bit awkward, unaware of consequences tied to the blade like a red ribbon.

The shadows go shrill, piercing through the muffled drone of Azriel's thoughts. They bring forth the accompanying jolt of his heart—the twist deep in his stomach as he catches the mad glint in the males eyes as he holds the knife aloft.

"Ten thousand gold marks, Lachlan." He whispers, nearly to himself. There's a sheen on his thin, pale lips from how many times he's licked at them. "And we've got it."

A smile, crooked and strangely excited, grows on Lachlan's face.

Foolish, the shadows whisper, delighting in the wait just as much as Azriel is. Unwise creatures—their spilt blood will be refreshing.

The second male pauses, just enough for Azriel to catch it and take it as his cue.

…

Tag list -

@c-starstuff-man0 @futurehunt @chunkypossum @somnolentsoul

(please please lemme know if I missed you or you want off or if I did it wrong fanks :])

[scribblestatic]

...So I thought of something kinda cute, sad, and crack all at the same time. I'm sure someone else has thought of it, too.

Like, canonically, we all know the Lamb is, like, grown enough to handle the stuff (kinda, sorta, I don't think there's any age you can handle all'a that). The "Lamb" is just, you know, cause of all the lambs and stuff in cultural things.

But what if...hear me out...

The Lamb was literally just a lamb.

Like, Narinder feels when the last sheep dies and he cackles, knowing this is the one that will fulfill the prophecy and release him. So he summons their body and soul so he can tell them what they must do.

He sees them, off in the distance, and waits.

And waits...

...For some reason, whoever this is seems to be moving quite slowly.

And as they get closer, more visible through the fog...

It's a fucking baby.

"Aaaaababababa..."

It's walking on its lil feet, hands to its sides as it tries to balance itself. It took so long to get closer because it's literally just learning how to walk. Narinder is still, staring. Aym and Baal's eyes are wide open.

The little Lamb falls on its butt. Aym jolts forward just a bit before remembering himself.

However, the Lamb doesn't cry. It just leans forward, gets all four of its little chubby limbs underneath itself, and pushes back up onto two legs.

It huffs, almost managing to look proud, and then it gets back to walking, baby babbling all the way til it falls against Narinder's clothes. The One Who Waits stiffens, both because he hasn't been touched by someone else in a long time, and because his cloak is made of the sheer and blood of all the little lamb's murdered ancestors.

However, the Lamb either doesn't recognize the smell of lanolin or isn't focused on what he's wearing. Hell, does the little one even have a concept of what clothes are made of?

Instead, the Lamb looks up at Narinder, opens its little mouth, and bleats.

Narinder shuts his eyes tightly.

...This is the last lamb. This is the only lamb able to somehow release him from captivity. Because the lamb is otherwise dead, it will not grow quickly, if at all. If he doesn't have this lamb go back into the world, somehow start a cult, and kill his siblings to release the chains, he's stuck in this place forever.

...He is not cruel. The Lamb is simply a pawn. Nothing more or less. He can use it, like his followers, as he pleases. There's nothing cruel about doing so.

He chants that in his head several times until he can manage to open his eyes.

When he sees those beady eyes full of curiosity and love staring back at him, he has to close his eyes again and chant what he thought a few more times. The chant is interrupted briefly with another little bleat from the one using him to balance itself before he continues.

Aym and Baal watch as the baby eventually sits, clinging onto Narinder's cloak, and stuffs its little thumb in its mouth, waiting patiently.

...Ridiculous.

Steeling himself, Narinder leans down, staring at the infant. It can't speak, so he reads its mind.

"You. Do you want to live?"

'Biiiig...!'

"...That is not what I asked."

'Big safe. Big. Safe! Soft.'

Narinder has to spend another few moments with his eyes shut tightly.

After trying and failing to get the little one to understand several times, Narinder takes a different approach.

He simply takes his crown off, putting it on the ground in front of the Lamb.

Its eyes are on it immediately, growing wide with curiosity. It doesn't let go of Narinder's cloak, but it gets on its other hand and knees and crawls forward until it's right in front of the Red Crown. It grabs the crown, coos at it, and puts one of the top ends in its mouth.

Narinder clears his throat, and the Lamb looks up.

He mimes pulling the crown out of his own mouth and putting it on his head.

The Lamb, merely a baby, follows suit, putting the drool-covered crown on its head.

It blinks, eyes turning red with eldritch power and knowledge no infant should have.

Up above, the Lamb resurrects, awakening underground. It doesn't have to breathe, so it's okay. It just digs its way out, the crown instinctively becoming grasping claws. It pops up out the ground like a sprout before pulling the rest of its body out.

It looks left, then right, then below itself. It can sense the hundreds of thousands of bodies in the mass graves, merely fertilizer for the earth now.

...It's dark. It would be nice to be somewhere with more light!

Cooing softly, the Lamb wobbles its way forward, going toward the exit to the land of the Old Faith on tiny legs, a Red Crown on a tiny head with little horns grown onto it entirely too early.

Baby shenanigans ensue.

[obsidiancreates]

OKAY THE PROMISED REINCARNATION AU

As I said, I read a fic with 2012 boys having died and reincarnated into the Rise universe and adopted by the Rise boys and it gave me IDEAS so anyway

So I want Max Angst when the 2012 boys remember their past lives. I don't know exactly when they died, but I'm having Monster Arc and Heart of Evil and stuff be canon, but not Mutant Apocalypse. Again, not sure how/when they died to make this possible. But it WAS before they turned 20.

They're reincarnated as lil' babies, just tiny lil' guys. They're born to a normal turtle but uh, they aren't normal turtles, so the owner of their turtle freaks out and puts them in a box in a random alleyway. And then, as luck would have it, Señor Hueso opens Run of the Mill one day to find a box of small mutant baby turtles. With a deep sigh, he takes the box inside, feeds them some veggies, and calls up Leo.

"Ah, Pepino, none of you or your brothers have had any... flings lately, have you? No? Well, I ask because a box of baby turtles were in front of the door today-"

He's not even finished with the sentence before a portal opens up and all four Rise boys (probably early to mid twenties in ages) and Splints tumble out. Splints grabs the box, looks inside, and says "We'll take them!"

"That was easier than I thought."

They order some pizzas while there, of course, and get to know these tiny babies while they wait. They all seem to be the same species of turtle, and all the same age.

Now in the fic I read each Rise Boy raised their counterpart, which is great, but it could also be cool for them to be raised by their non-counterparts too? Like I could see 2012 Raph having been raised by Rise Mikey and 2012 Leo being raised by Rise Donnie? I think for this we'll have their own counterparts raise them but food for thought, let me know what other Father-Son pairings you'd do personally.

Anyway for the rest of this I'll be referring to Rise as Raphie, Leon, Angelo, and Donald, and 2012 as their usual nicknames.

Raphie holds the second smallest baby and coos at him, wiggling a finger over his face and watching the way the baby tracks it with beady little eyes. None of them seem to have irises or sclera at first, but Donald says it could just look like that because they're so young, the same thing happens with kittens who've just opened their eyes. As Raphie coos over the baby and waves his finger around, the baby scrunches up his face and starts to cry! Raphie panics for a second, but Splints shows him how to properly cradle the baby and soon lil' Raph is asleep.

Yes, they name their sons after themselves, Because They Would Do That, but also because Splints kept accidentally calling the babies those names anyway and they didn't want to confuse the little guys too much.

Donald holds baby Donnie up like he's examining a peculiar invention for a bit, and baby Donnie just smiles at him and makes baby sounds. After a bit of examining Donald cradles Donnie in one of the battle shell's robot arms and begins softly singing a little Dewey Decimal System rap he made up and baby Donnie slowly falls asleep as well.

Angelo is just gushing over this cute little baby and making all the silly faces, and baby Mikey is giggling and babbling non-stop, reaching up and lightly slapping Angelo's face with his lil' baby hands and it is The Cutest Ever! Angelo's heart is stolen and it sets the path for Mikey to be So Spoiled in the future.

Leon holds the last baby, a quiet and calm little guy who's just staring at him. He's a little creeped out, to be honest, and nothing he's doing to make the baby laugh is working. Then Hueso brings over the pizzas, and Leon grins and says "We'll need 'em, raising these guys is going to leave us, uh bone tired." And maybe it's the voice he uses or the cocky grin but that finally makes baby Leo laugh! And Leon's heart melts because the baby likes puns this is perfect.

So they take them home and bam! Four sons now! April is hanging out with Casey and Casey Jr when she gets the text "YOU'RE AN AUNT NOW!" and of course this makes her very concerned so all three of them head right for the lair and they enter to find Draxum on the couch with a book on child development, Splints playing peek-a-boo with a single bassinet full of four baby turtles, and the four brothers all eating as Draxum tosses out little snippets of advice from book and they all nod.

"Where'd you get those?" April says, pointing at the bassinet.

"Someone left them outside of Run of the Mill? Can you believe it? Four perfect little angels and someone didn't want them!" Angelo coos. At that moment baby Raph starts crying again, frustrated by the peek-a-boo game (and a little scared that Splints keeps disappearing).

Anyway, the four are raised as brothers and not cousins because non-nuclear family structures for the win, and it's great! They're all a little more well-adjusted than their past selves were. Raph's anger issues are taken more seriously and Angelo and Raphie talk with him a lot about it and help him find ways to manage it. Donnie feels way less insecure/resentful of being a mutant because he grows up around humans and mutants alike this time and goes out to the surface way sooner, and as we all know it's a lot easier to pass as humans with very little effort in the Rise world. Mikey's ADHD is like, taken seriously and everyone knows he's not dumb, just impulsive and has trouble paying attention (sometimes though he just chooses to be a little shit and they still get mad at him for those times).

I actually think Leo will end up the most The Same, just because his drive to be perfect/severity/endless pressure on himself doesn't really start until after he's made Leader in 2012, before that he seems mostly normal (for a teenage mutant ninja turtle anyway).

Wow this was meant to be an angst AU but Baby Cuteness got to me. Well I'll put the angst under a Read More I guess so y'all who don't want it can just have this happiness.

So when they're about 15, they start feeling more restless. They have a lot of fun with their family, but they haven't done much of the hero stuff. Their dads have tried to keep it to a minimum (it can never be Zero for them, but they have a strict "Let us get our kids home or at least ignore them while they hide" policy with the villains and most of them, like Warren and Hypno, don't mind and totally oblige and yes this is partly because The Rise Boys are intimidating parents and partly because why would they beat up an eight-year-old?)

So they've been minorly involved in some fights, but gosh, they're just kids. Their dads remember how fun it was to fight bad guys at their age, but also how damaging it was in the long run. And for the most part, their sons have been fine with it. They've gone a few minor fights here and there, even have a nemesis of their own (Hypno and Warren adopted a yokai girl, some kind of bird I think, and she's the most pompous person alive, their fights are never intense though because her dads are also protective) and it's been fine.

But it's like a switch flips, and suddenly they're constantly itching to go out. Suddenly Raph's having trouble remembering his anger management methods. Suddenly Mikey's acting up more than usual. Suddenly Donnie's patience is paper-thin. Suddenly Leo's being bossy and demanding of his brothers.

Well, "suddenly" isn't quite right. It's slow, but it definitely starts on their 15th birthday. And it just keeps getting worse.

And they're having nightmares. Lots of them. Donald rushes into Donnie's room one night after hearing screaming to find Donnie clutching his arm to his chest and sobbing incoherently about needing to find Mikey and Raph because he's after them, but come morning when Donald asks all Donnie can remember is "Something big hit me, and I knew they weren't safe either."

One night Leon hears a crash and runs into Leo's room to find his son crying, having fallen out of bed and landed on his knee funny and he's holding his throat begging to see his brothers. Again, come morning all he remembers is that he'd been in a bad fight and They Weren't Safe.

Angelo wakes up to Mikey crawling into his bed, shaking and quietly crying, and mumbling about squirrels and evil moms and all kinds of terrible things, and Angelo hugs him and calms him down. In the morning Mikey just says he might need to stop reading horror comics.

Raphie can't even comfort his son because Raph screams when he sees him through sheep-glazed eyes and backs away and begs and begs to leave him and his brothers alone, and he calls out for Leo over and over until his brother and uncle in blue both come in and Leo hugs Raph and the two fall asleep in each other's arms. In the morning Raph just says he thinks Donnie's nightmare from before got to him, and that something else got Leo and got him bad.

And they become so tired. They can barely sleep anymore. Leo's leg should be fine by now, it was just bruised, but he keeps limping. Donnie keeps staring at nothing, lost in thought, and all he can say when someone asks what's wrong is he feels like they're missing something, someone, and he's taking minor failures so hard now. Raph keeps looking around the lair like he's expecting something to jump out at them, keeps gripping his sai like he'll need to use them at a moment's notice. Mikey keeps acting desperate to be heard whenever he suggests something, and he keeps checking the freezer and tearing up when whatever he's looking for that he doesn't even know isn't there.

There's some nights where they don't scream or go to their dads. There's some nights, that only them and their grandpa know about, where they sneak into Splints's room and ask if they can just stay there for a little while. Sometimes all of them end up in there at once, and Splints wakes up to them gathered around his bed, leaning up against it as they sleep with weapons in hand. He never tells anyone, just shakes Raph and Leo awake so they can carry their brothers back to bed, and he goes with to tuck them all in. And sometimes on those nights, when the boys are half-asleep and mumbling, he thinks he hears them call him 'Sensei'.

And then there's the way they fight.

Their dads are all deeply concerned the first time they do some sparring after their 15th birthday. Because they seem to forget to pull back.

Leo flips Mikey with full strength and Mikey swings his nunchucks without bothering to aim away from Leo's limbs. Raph slams his shoulder into Donnie's chest hard enough to completely knock the breath out of him and then Donnie jabs the end of his bo into Raph's chest right back so hard that it cracks the wood. Draxum and Splints break them up, always on the sidelines watching with pride in their grandsons, and The Rise Dads scold them all for being so brutal to their own brothers.

It's during a fight with Meatsweats and some new cooking assistant of his that they learn Donnie and Mikey added some blades to their own weapons. And all four go for a kill blow when they get the chance. Meatsweats is out of there faster than you can say "Cowabunga", bruised and bloodied, and the dads have another talk with their sons. Something along the lines of "You can't be 15 year old murderers!"

And then there's the anger. All four of them are suddenly so very, very angry. And not in the short-tempered way Raph's been his whole life, or the easily irritable way Donnie's always been. They're all deeply, painfully, angry. And none of them can really explain why. Just that it feels like they lost something.

And then, one day, Donald is wearing his mystic-seeing goggles when Donnie enters the lab. And what he sees chills him to the core.

He sees this overlay. It's Donnie, but not. The overlay is a little taller, a little older, and horrifically scarred on every inch of his body. His shell and plastron are littered with scratches and chips. He's got small scars and nicks all over his body. He's got a big one on the arm Donald remembers him clutching after his first nightmare. He's got horrific burn scars on his head and face, like someone electrocuted him over and over and over without mercy, and there's burn scars everywhere else too but those look circumstantial and the ones on his face looks purposeful. There's so much visible pain, all over this overlay of his son, his son. And it doesn't even look much older, maybe four years older at most, and-

And it's so angry.

It's a transparent purple, a sort of lavender color the same as Donnie's mask, but it's eyes are a solid and stark white. They're narrowed, and his mouth is set in a deep scowl. Tears drip down his face non-stop, but it's like the overlay isn't even aware he's crying from the way he just radiates anger.

And Donald grab Donnie's arm, panicking, and lifts his goggles.

His son is looking at him in confusion and concern, and he's fine. He's got one scar, and it's just from a skateboarding accident he had when they were around 10 and his elbow pad slipped up when he skid across the ramp. He's not scowling, he's not crying, and he's trying to get his dad's attention.

"Could you get your brothers and uncle?" Donald asks, and Donnie nods and runs off.

When they get back Donald has set up a large x-ray like machine. He asks the boys to stand behind it, and explains to his own brothers that he put his mystic crystal into this machine to check something. He explains, quietly, that he saw something that half-explains what's been going on with their sons.

And he turns it on.

And oh, god.

Raph's overlay has a large chip taken out of the right corner of his plastron, and just like his brothers, is littered in scars on every inch of him. His overlay is scowling and crying and white-eyed, and it's body language is so much more tense. Raph himself is just sitting there, arms crossed, a little annoyed but not too upset, until he looks up and sees his dad and uncles crying.

Mikey such a strange one to see, scowling like that, just so full of anger and pain. Like Raph he doesn't seem to have any huge scars, until he bends over for a second because he dropped something and all over the back of his shell there are these discolored spots, like something broke it open from the inside and it had to heal back over. The thought makes Angelo's heart and stomach drop and makes him need to lean again Raphie.

And Leo. None of the overlays are free of scars, hundreds of scars, but Leo... he has the most small ones small but deep, like shards of glass stuck into his skin and had to be pulled out. He's got a jagged, messy scar on his throat that wraps almost all the way around to the back, and they can see another all-encompassing scar around his newly-bum knee. There's so many scars that follow such a specific pattern, two blades spaced apart in such a precise manner slashed across him without mercy and-

Draxum and Splints had followed, and they're both silent, horrified, and Draxum quietly says, "I think... those overlays are their souls."

And suddenly the whole family has a new mission: find out why their boys have such wounded souls. Find out who did this to them. Find out how to fix it.

They don't tell the boys what they saw, and it's for the best, because the nightmares keep getting worse and now they have scars they can place some of the half-remembered stories to. And they start to piece together that the boys are remembering some other life, some other world, and is this some kind of curse or something else? Is it another world bleeding through and affecting their boys, or is it possible they came from that world?

And then, as they're struggling to figure this out and to help their boys through sudden new PTSD episodes and triggers that their boys don't understand the cause of, then...

A portal opens somewhere in New York.

A pink, triangular portal.

And they find somewhere to point all the anger they have for their boys.

(I also have another version of this where they don't discover what's happening until The Rise Dads are captured by the 2012 Kraang and the 2012 boys, who fully remember their past lives, charge in to save them, and their Ninpo manifests as they can reach into the other world and pull things through like The Shellraizer and such, but it comes with the cost of their new bodies becoming more and more like their old ones, so their dads watch them fight incredibly viciously and pull all this stuff out of some other dimension and have to just watch as all these scars appear on them and they get older but suddenly they stop getting older very soon and that hurts just as much as seeing the scars and they're both horrified and in awe of how their sons are fighting.)

[tomatoswup]

good night ☾ 2

summary: having the Vash plushie as a companion is a big help but sometimes you can't help but think about the past. Vash plushie to the rescue!

the plushie series: 1 , 2 , 3

warnings/tags: hurt/comfort, fluff? vash plushie is such a sweetheart :'),

A/N: i can't help but bring my angst urges into things okay im sORRY LMAOOKDNSLKNF but fr i 100% believe the plushie is gonna try to cheer you up when you're sad like ugh u lil cute thing plz. Hope yall enjoy this lil thing! am waiting for june to come

To be honest, the cute little guy really helped you a lot mentally, stopping those depressing filled nights and nightmares that you’ve had after that event from engulfing your conscious.

Has it been 2 years already? Time flies doesn't it? You never really noticed how aware the plushie was until he asked you if you were alright one night.

Sometimes he’d cuddle against your cheek to, in his words, "help" you sleep, and other times he’d sleep under your blanket, but the poor thing had nightmares of its own too.

Often times you’d catch him whimper and curl into a small ball in his sleep, to which you couldnt help but put your hand out and softly rub the top of his head with your finger to soothe the poor plushie.

But the lil’ thing was a trooper! He’s up the next morning urging you to get some donuts for breakfast and man.

You've never seen the plushie so happy that he almost popped a stitch! He ran around in circles, jumping up and down around your feet so much when you came back to your camp with a box of them that you kinda got scared you were gonna step on him.

"The pink one!" He screeched out, elated as you picked out a pink sprinkled donut and handed it to him. The damn donut was the same size as himself!

"Hey! Be careful!" You shouted out, watching as the small figure tumbled down a small sand hill with the donut, causing you to sweatdrop.

Why'd he kinda look like a tumbleweed....

You heard him squeak out from below, before seeing him cutely hop up to your temporary camp, a big bite already visible on the donut as the nibs of his arms held it up above his head "I-Im okay!"

“Good! I don’t think I have any sewing supplies to fix you bud.” You grinned as he waddled over to where you sat at the fire.

"What'cha making?" He curiously asked as he peeked around your ankle. Poking at the cooking fire, you looked down at him, the blue beady eyes of his staring into the fire "Well, I'm cooking some chicken I had left-over from the other day." You smiled down at him as he jumped up and down "FOOD!"

You couldn't help but giggle at the excitement the plushie gave out, how did he even digest things? You haven't really seen him eat anything during his time traveling with you but maybe that was a question for another time.

"Ya know," You couldn't help but say "I think my friend would've liked you.." You softly smiled, turning to the fire as you turned the roasting chicken.

"Friend?" He tilted his head "What friend?" You stared on into the fire, the wind blowing the heat mildly into your face "You haven't met him, but it was a friend I deeply loved."

"You loved him?"

"..." You couldn't help but put your knee up to rest your head on "Yeah, I did. But they passed a few years ago." You heard the plushie take another bite of his donut before coming up and plopping down to sit beside you "Never got to tell him I did though.." You quietly chuckled as the plushie looked up at you, a dead stare had been painted on your face as if it were a past that hurt to touch.

The Vash plushie stayed quiet before taking another bite of his donut "Well, I think you're a very pleasant person to be with! I mean, you've taken care of me pretty well!" He squeaked out "You treat others with the respect they give back! You're a kind person!" His feet started moving up and down.

"I think he would've loved you too."

AWWWWWWWALSFfknsk

You couldn't help but let out tears at the comforting words the plushie provided you as he patted your leg, telling you it was okay and that you weren't a bad person for having continued with your life without him. To which he proceeded to trying to do cartwheels to cheer you up you didn't want to admit it kind worked. But at some point you asked him to stop because the poor thing had been on its 5th failed attempt, every time belly-flopping onto the ground.

"Okay okay, I'm okay now Vash!" Trying to get the lil' guy to stop, you took a whiff of the air before freezing "I-Is the chicken burning?"

"Yup!"

GODDAMN IT-

You owed this plushie another donut.

And the night passed, you having slept better than most other nights. But the two of you had to hit the road again, getting packed up and ready to go by the morning.

Back in his usual place in the pocket of your shirt, he put up an arm nib and pointed it forwards "LET'S GOOO!" Snorting at his burst of energy, you began your stride in the sand once again with the map in hand.

"We're not far from getting to the city, I'm estimating one more day before we arrive." You said, fixing the hat on your head from the glaring sun before squinting ahead at something that caught your eye "You see that too right?"

The plushie's eyebrows furrowed as he copied you, squinting and physically pushing himself forwards to see if he could see closer "A man?"

The sight of a man in black stuck out like a sore thumb in the tanned desert just a few feet away from the two of you. A grey motorcycle propped up next to him as the man tuned and did something to the metal's gears.

He looked a bit familiar, too familiar.

"I think I know hi-" You wondered out before the plushies' loud and high pitched scream interrupted you.

"HELLOOOOOO!!!!"

The man turned and there you were met with a pair of sunglasses and the mischievous grin of someone whos' gospels often had you wanting to beat him half to death.

"Well well! Fancy meeting you here!"

oh god....

[bipolar-sad-and-ready-to-cry]

I had a dream that Ruin from tsams (but he was like, ruined you know?) chased me while he was wearing a school girl uniform, I was just trying to make a salad when he started chasing me, why did he chase me idk maybe he found it fun or maybe he wanted to kill me or some other motive who knows but Ruin in a school girl uniform has been haunting me all day so I caved and drew him in said school girl outfit enjoy

also legit first time drawing Ruin and I was drawing what he looked like in my dream he had those beady lil eyes that just look spooky lol

[jnkgrnde]

— let her go

pairings : shuriri x black!reader

warnings : angst, major character death, both shuri and riri spiral a lil bc they feel guilty but try to keep their composure for each other, descriptions of blood, major injuries (broken bones, DEEP cuts, etc.), uh probs others that i missed but there’s jus a whole lot of injuries 😭, no happy ending

summary : an important mission in retrieving stolen vibranium goes wrong, leading to deep cuts, bruises, and a dance with death. divider by @firefly-graphics !

everything hurt. deep cuts leaked with blood, body aching with pain. you knew you didn’t have much longer; you were slipping in and out of consciousness.

“shit, shit, someb- fuck- somebody do something!” riri’s usual strong mind was a jumbled mess. hot, thick tears were racing down her cheeks as she tripped on her words. her chest felt compressed, the feeling weighing more and more the more she had to look at your battered body.

shuri wasn’t much better; eyes red and stinging with tears, hands shaky as she frantically tried to find ways to heal you. even with wakanda’s healing technology, it looked like you had a slim chance of recovery. “griot, vitals!” she yelled at the program.

“y/n’s oxygen is at 15% and dropping. her right shoulder is dislocated, fractures appear to be in her skull, arm, and leg.” if possible, the girls hearts broke even more at the sound of griot saying your injuries. it looked much worse than griot said — large, deep gashes covering almost every part of your body, shoulder looking like its in the wrong place, bones looking like they’re turned the wrong way.

“okoye, how much longer?!” shuri yelled at the head dora. “40 seconds, my queen.” “40 seconds ain’t enough!” “it- it hurts-“ was one of the only things you’d managed to get out. “i know, baby, i know!” riri told you. “just hold on, y/n, we’re almost there.” shuri turned to you. there were very few things that made her cry and very few times she did, and this was one of those times.

her heart hammered at her chest. ‘y/n’s oxygen levels are at 15% and dropping.’ thinking of griot’s sentence made her hiccup a bit.

okoye flew with tears gathered in her eyes while ayo looked down at you with hers. even before you, shuri, and riri got together, the dora had been close with you. you’d hang out with them when you were bored, or while shuri was working on some big project and needed to focus.

right now they don’t know if they’ll ever get that time back again.

“my queen, y/n’s oxygen levels have dropped to 8%.” “i can’t think. i can’-“ riri was at shuri’s side before she even got a chance to notice, squeezing her hand tightly. “okoye, how long?” the small girl asked. “we’ve arrived.”

riri and shuri wasted no time getting you to the lab and on a table. they were so sure that they could save you that they didn’t know you’d already passed.

they ran frantically around the lab, yelling at each other out of stress. by the time they reached your body, though, you’d stop breathing. your chest wasn’t rising.

they froze in their tracks once they noticed.

“y-y/n?” riri’s beady eyes traced your figure. shuri felt like someone froze time. her mouth was agape, tools clattering to the ground. riri moved to put her ear against your mouth. “no, no, no, no- she’s- she’s not-“

“riri.” “shuri, she’s- we can fix her, right?” riri looked to shuri for reassurance before looking down at you. “riri.” riri didn’t hear shuri the second time and started shaking your body out of desperation. “y/n, wake up, please!” “RIRI!”

shuri came from behind to hold the girl who burst into tears. “shuri-“ riri choked. shuri was sobbing more than enough. her chest hurt greatly, the feeling of guilt already consuming her.

riri’s head pounded with unbelievable pain from crying so hard. your last spoken words from not even ten minutes ago rang in her head.

it hurts.

it’s been two months since your passing, and the two had been miserable. the feeling of guilt and sadness took over their beings. nakia, okoye, and others came to check on them often. occasionally, shuri or riri would come out of their shared room to bring back food, or shuri would go down to the lab to see if she’d been up for making something, but everytime she stepped, in all she could hear was sobbing and see your immobile body laying on the table.

holding onto everything you owned only made it worse. so, so much worse.

your pillow was still kept on the bed, the sheets still had a mix of your scent on them alongside riri and shuri’s, they kept the gifts they got you, etc. riri and shuri tried supporting eachother the best they could, but they both knew that there was no point.

“do you think we could’ve saved her?” riri asked one night. shuri pushed them to at least get out the bed and on the balcony to get some air. it was another one of your favorite things to do; sit out on the balcony and watch over wakanda, talking with them about any and everything.

they couldn’t do that with you anymore, and they were well aware.

shuri swallowed thickly. she didn’t want to answer, because she knew they could’ve. if only they had a little more time, or if they moved faster, then they could’ve saved you.

shuri considered lying, but riri would’ve known she was. “maybe if we had a little more time, ri.” riri slightly winced at the nickname, but nodded. at least she knew shuri was being truthful.

the two ended up laying on each other, talking here and there. “d’you think she’s looking down at us right now?” that was a question shuri could answer immediately. “i know she is. i’m sure she is.”

a beat.

“i think my brother and mother are with her. guiding her through the ancestral plane.” shuri spoke quietly. her heart pounded in her chest when she spoke of both you and her brother. it was a comforting thought, on the other hand. three of the people she loves most were together again, the fourth being with her at that moment.

“riri?” the small genius hummed. “do you think we’ll be okay?”

it was silent for a moment and shuri was almost convinced she was asleep.

“she’d be mad at us if we weren’t.”

you looked at them with tear filled eyes and a sad smile.

she was right. you would be mad if they weren’t okay.

[14dayswithyou]

Sorry Ren/Redacted (actually not sorry), how could I love and be with you when I have Mer Ren? Look at him, he's so squishy and soft and says 'plz' and 'yoo' and gives me all the fish and shells I want. He's also packing double if you know what I mean. *lipbite*

✦゜ANSWERED: For a bit of context, Winndy is the CEO and creator of Mer Ren, and there's even a discord bot with silly lil prompts dedicated to him!! They're meant to come across like Mer Ren is texting you (or at least, trying to), which is why he sometimes uses "plz" and "yoo" ^^

Also just a small note: there's going to be slight 14DWY spoilers/references that allude to Ren's bad end if you squint hard enough!! This also isn't proofread because I need to stay on brand hehe

"Is... Is that what you want? W-Would it make you happy?" There's a hint of sadness laced within his tone before Ren's bittersweet expression turns into a fabricated smile. So... you've already moved on from the Haruko hyperfixation and wanted something more fishy?

Consider it done.

Ren would've walked to the ends of the earth if you asked him to. Hell, he'd even rip out his own heart and put it on a platter if it brought a smile to your face. There was nothing he wouldn't do to make you happy, and if altering parts of himself was necessary, then he'd do it without any hesitation.

But it was altering your memory that had him second-guessing his actions.

Shaking his head to steel his thoughts, Ren offers you one last look of reassurance before he takes a step back and closes his eyes. And just like that fateful day when you met him in the library, you can only stand there helplessly as reality begins to flicker, bend, and glitch around the both of you.

But just when you thought you were getting accustomed to the unfamiliar feeling surrounding you; a blinding white light envelopes your vision as you feel everything snap back into place.

Blinking once, twice, then once more, you notice that everything remained much the same as you remembered, except...

Wait.

Did Ren always have dark hair and wide, beady eyes? Has that jellyfish-like bell cape always sat atop his pale, purple shoulders? And since when were you inside a dimly lit bioluminescent grotto?

You're pulled away from your thoughts when Ren — your Ren, you remembered; who you rescued from a tangled mess of netting all those years ago — reaches a webbed hand towards your face to gently cup your cheek. That very same bittersweet smile rests on his countenance as you watch it slowly morph into that of melancholy, turmoil, and finally, dedication.

Well, it seems that just a single glance at your awed expression was more than enough to calm Ren's racing thoughts and put his mind at ease.

"...Happy now, yes? You'll stay here with Ren forever? Please?" Ren's voice comes out hoarse (almost like he wasn't used to talking in your language) as his other webbed hand moves to rest on your arm and anchor you close to him — though you knew you could easily brush it off if you really wanted to.

"Ren—" A shake of his head, "Your Ren will always make you happy! Ren promises! So stay here forever and ever and ever! ...Please."

[texasthrillbilly]

For those of you who enjoyed my Joe Welcome Venture Bros fics, here's a little bonus scene, just for you, my loyal followers on Tumblr. Happy new year, Venturoos!

"A parade? You're lucky you're not in federal prison, old friend," said Jonas Venture's even, yet clearly iratated, voice.

Little Rusty had gotten out of bed for a glass of milk and heard the sound of grown-ups talking coming from his father's study, so on tippy toes, he crept down the hallway towards the half open door.

"I didn't literally mean a parade," drawled another man's voice.

Rusty recognized it as belonging to Joe Welcome, a space cowboy who had recently saved he and his father's lives when they were lost in space.

"And you're the lucky one. Lucky you and Rusty aren't still stuck on that god forsaken planet being menaced by those aliens, which you would be if not for me," the man continued.

"Don't threaten my son," Jonas said, darkly.

Rusty tilted his head and cupped a pale, freckled hand to his ear. Through the thin beam of light coming from the gap, he could see the shadows of both men moving around on a souvenir covered wall.

"I didn't... I wasn't..." Joe stammered, suddenly flustered and more than a little offended.

"Look," said Jonas, becoming his usual jovial self again, "I did all I could. I gave a glowing testimonial for you, but I only have so much sway with the government. My hands are tied, and quite frankly, I'm a little shocked you'd even come here asking me for such favors. I thought you had more dignity than that, man."

"I guess I just expected things to be the way they used to be," said Joe, solemnly.

"Things change," said Jonas.

Rusty could hear the squeek of his father's office chair and knew he had sat down behind his large, ornate desk.

"I see," said Joe. "Guess I should be on my way, then."

"Yes, i think you should, and close the door behind you, I have some work to go over here," said Jonas.

Rusty heard Joe Welcome approach the door suddenly and made to run, but there was no time.

The door swung open, and the young boy was illuminated by the light that spilled out of the room. He shielded his eyes but could just make out the silhouette of the cowboy his father had just chastised who now stood before him.

"Hey, lil' pardner," said Joe. "Ain't it past your bedtime?"

"Rusty? Is that you?" His father called out.

"Ye- yes, pop," said Rusty's timid voice.

"Come in here, son," said Jonas, then to Joe he said a curt, "So long, Joe."

"Adios, kid," was all Joe said as he passed by Rusty, who watched him dissappear down the darkened hallway before he entered his father's study himself.

"Now, what are you doing up at this hour?" His square jawed father asked, regarding him with beady, studying eyes.

"I- I had that dream again" Rusty said hesitantly. "About the alien."

"Oh, tiny wonder," his father said, condescendingly, "how many times do I have to tell you this? There's no such thing as aliens."

"But-," began Rusty, but his father reached forward in his chair and pulled the boy up onto his lap with firm hands before he could protest.

"Don't listen to that bad cowboy man," said Jonas, comfortingly.

"He saved us, though," said Rusty.

"Nooo, that was just an episode of your cartoon, son. Don't you remember?" Said Jonas.

Rusty looked into his father's eyes in confusion.

"You're mixing up what you see on television with what you see in your learning bed again," Jonas went on.

"O- Okay," said Rusty, very unsure.

"Trust me when I say that Joe Welcome is a bad man," said Jonas. "He's a liar, and there's nothing worse than a liar."