#ghost thief au

[new-revenant]

Danny becomes Gotham's newest thief only known as Ghost. He only steals Ghost Zone artifacts and he does it all as a human

He wears a copy of his original suit, like the mostly white and black one he wore when going into the portal. He has a black domino mask(think Zorro) and a black face mask. Danny doesn’t use any powers other than the stereotypical ghost powers he has, and even then he barely uses them, he is in human form after all.

There is a surprisingly large amount of GZ artifacts in Gotham. Batman figures out whats going on real quickly, because Danny tells him straight up what’s he’s doing. They do some team ups whenever Danny gets a sign or note from a ghost about a GZ artifact being stolen/found in Gotham. Hell, even Batman calls Danny up sometimes.

Catwoman and Danny definitely get along if you’re wondering. She, Danny, and Batman all team up to get this one cat-themed GZ artifact.

[biteytiefling]

dc x dp prompt so I’ve seen some cat thief, Danny au’s and some neko au’s and ghost adoption au’s but I haven’t seen any where Selena Kyle is ghost adopted as well

So Selena stole a magic artifact dedicated to a cat god ( this particular cat god was also a god of thieves, outcasts, and mischief )but there was an accident and unbeknownst to Selena she became a halfa and was immediately adopted by the cat god that unfortunately couldn’t communicate with her without her getting in touch with her powers that had yet to show up. That same cat god later found the Dannys and adopted them as well this does affect their appearance they turn into neko’s. Jazz gets adopted later to and gets turned into a warlock of the cat god and gets turned into a neko as a result of the adoption/pact ( they can hide the cat features but they come out when they use there powers )

Anyway a couple years later after a disagreement with Bruce she finds a bunch of nekos in her living room claiming to be her younger siblings and they want to learn everything about being the worlds greatest thief and they want to teach her about her abilities? And some mess with the government and ………oh they are on the run from the government because they aren’t classified as people and the justice league has ignored them and an entire town……. oh it’s time for some serious pettiness

Danny, elly, Dan and jazz are all sent to Gotham to meet their adopted oldest sister and learn to cause trouble and mischief all thoroughly done with the us government they are going to be terrorizing until the justice league gets their stuff together and fixes the anti-ecto acts 

So amity park can freely come and go from the realms but they choose to stay and just visit and cause chaos in there old home world and are more than willing to help mess with the justice league for fun just so long as nobody gets too hurt and the amity parker’s will actually help the heroes if it entertains them/ if needed 

[delusionalbitchinthehouse]

I'm on a roll with AU these days, so. Cowboy AU ! Outlaw Dewdrop x Sheriff Swiss...with a twist.

It's been a long fucking day. Very fucking long. Swiss' back aches as he leans back into his seat, blinking when the lines of barely legible handwritting still swim in front of his eyes, even now that he's looked up from all the paperwork.

Yawning, he looks around his office, lazily blinking. A light breeze brushes his face, making him frown and glance at the half opened window. Hadn't he closed it ? Swiss tries to recall, hours blending together in his memory. Maybe he didn't, maybe he forgot.

Once he's locked it, Swiss snatches his hat, delibarating between popping to the saloon or just staying home.

"Be the sheriff, they said, it'll be fun, they said," he grumbles, making his way downstairs, "they just forgot to mention the fucking paperwork."

It's all fake complaints, though. No matter how much paperwork makes him want to hang himself sometimes, Swiss loves this town, loves taking care of it, protecting it, acting for the people that make it such a bright and homely place.

Plus, he rocks the hat he was gifted when he became sheriff. That thing is probably his most prized possession.

Once in the kitchen, Swiss makes a beeline for the nearest bottle, in dire need of a little something to clear the fog in his brain from answering letters, approving or denying demands and signing what needed to be signed for hours.

The bottle leaves the shelf too easily, snatched with too much strenght for its weight. Swiss frowns, looking down at the bottle. It's three quarters empty, which doesn't sit right with him. He's sure, absolutely certain he left it more full than this.

All at once, Swiss becomes keenly aware of his surroundings, his senses sharpening in an instant. Noticing things he hasn't prior.

The rim of the bottle is still wet, a stray drop clinging to the neck, not having had time to reach the bottom. A glass is missing on the shelf. The memory of the window he thought he had closed flashes back in Swiss' mind.

His hand flies to his holster just as the distinct sound of someone cocking their gun breaks the silent, followed by a voice.

"Touch that gun and i'll have to scrub your brains off the floor," it says.

Swiss freezes, slowly raising his hands on either sides of his head. He hears steps, then a hand relieves him of both the guns he carries, as well as the knife hidden in his boot - quite the predictable place to keep it, Swiss will admit.

"Turn around," the voice orders then.

Swiss does, half smiling.

"Very rude way of starting a conversation, don't you think ?"

"Who says I want to talk ?"

Swiss groans as he takes in the man facing him. Long hair, mismatched eyes, sharp features, a scar tugging the right corner of his mouth up in a perpetual smirk ; a familiar face, one plastered on every available wall of every town.

Dewdrop, wanted for a baffling amount of crimes Swiss can't be bothered to remember, dead or alive. Reward : Swiss can't remember that either, with how often it changes.

The outlaw amongst the outlaws.

Swiss raises an eyebrow.

"Well, you see, people love chatting with me, so I just assumed you were as dying to hear my voice as the others."

Dewdrop scoffs, though he's smiling, a thin, sharp thing that reminds him of a blade. The fucker is holding a glass of Swiss' liquor in the hand not gripping the gun.

"Sorry to disapoint, sheriff, but if i had the time to sew your mouth shut, I would."

Swiss tilts his head.

"Rude. Almost as much as drinking my stash away."

Dewdrop downs his glass, maintaining eye contact the whole time, carelessly setting it on the nerby table with a satisfied smack of lips.

"You have enough liquor to drown in it, I'm sure my share won't be missed."

Swiss almost doesn't catch the quick way Dewdrop's eyes rake over him, up and down and up again, pausing momentarily at the silver of belly exposed by his raised arms. Almost.

"What I do miss are my guns," Swiss huffs, eyeing where they've been unceremoniously shoved under Dewdrop's belt. The outlaw takes one out, examinating it with an approving hum : they're very nice guns, well-cared for. Then he puts it back, still at his own belt.

"You'll miss a lot more once i'm done."

Swiss' eyebrows climb up his forehead ; there is a vague innuendo to be made, he thinks, but between the tiredness still weighting on his shoulders and the way his eyes keep stubbornly falling on Dewdrop's lips, he can't find a way to phrase it. Instead, he props his hip against the end of the table opposite to the one Dewdrop stands at.

"So you, a famous outlaw, master of escapism, came to this...tiny town and decided to ransack the sheriff's house ? You won't find nearly as much as you're used to."

The look Dewdrop gives him then, feels like being flayed open, exposed raw to prying, piercing eyes. It takes all of Swiss' carefully crafted self-control not to flinch away from it. When Dewdrop takes a step toward him, he can't help but tense, smile less easy, more strained.

"Oh but you see, sheriff, i pride myself in being nosy. Some might say it's a flaw, I say it's a very useful thing. I have keen ears, you see. I hear a lot, and I love rumors."

The barel of Dewdrop's gun presses against Swiss' chest. The outlaw is fully grinning now.

"And, you see, people say the Multi-Faced Thief - you know the Multi-Faced Thief, don't you sheriff ?- didn't die in that trainwreck years ago. Some say he's still alive, mascarading as a simple civilian, maybe even a figure of authority, hoarding the goods he stole, or aquired thanks to his thievery. "

Swiss swallows, his smile widening. Dewdrop is clever, ruthless, ambitious. He can't help liking it. There's no point in bullshitting him, but Swiss decides he can't give in without fucking with him a bit.

"And why are you telling me that ?"

All the air leaves the room when Dewdrop leans forward, so close his nose almost brushes Swiss'. It's crooked, Swiss notices, the bridge a bit wonky, probably broken once or twice. His fingers twitch above his head with the sudden and irrational need to touch it.

Swiss can barely breath, waiting, Dewdrop's eyes flickering over his face, searching. Pausing on his plush lips for half a second too long.

"I think you know why. You've gone soft, Multi. It was easy sneaking in. Disarming you."

A chuckle escapes Swiss as he drops the act, entertained by this guy's audacity. His confidence. Instead of shying away from the gun, he weights against it, sure to leave a dent in his skin. His eyes darken in the dim light ; oxygen can barely find both their lungs in what tiny sliver of space there's left between their faces.

"I'll admit, I dropped my guard. Didn't expect a pretty thing like you to stumble into my house. Try to steal from me. If we'd met a few years ago, I would either have put a bullet between your eyes or taken you for a ride."

Up close, Swiss is at the front row to see Dewdrop's pupils expand, his chest rising and falling quickly. Despite that, he doesn't lose sight of his objective, something Swiss admires quietly as he's shoved a few inches back by the push of the gun.

"Yeah, well. Here you are today, distracted and gunless."

Swiss nochalently raises his, mirroring Dewdrop's position, barrel against his narrow ribcage.

"You were saying ? Looks like I'm not the only one who's losing focus, mmh ?"

He watches in amusement Dewdrop's cheeks clolouring with both anger and embarrassement, his mismatched eyes flicking down to his belt, where only one of Swiss' guns is left.

"So, we're in a bit of a dead end, but i'll make you a deal, yeah ? You leave, and you leave fast, without doing this town any damages. In exchange, i'll let you have this," Swiss drawls, slipping a hand under his collar to tug on a richly ornemented pendant, one that always stays concealed under layers.

Dewdrop's jaw falls open at the sight of the Multi-Faced Thief's most famous prize, the hold-up of the century. Swiss waits for his answer, grinning, watching rubies reflecting in wide eyes.

"Why...would you offer that ?" Dewdrop manages to choke out, stunned.

Swiss laughs lightly, slipping the jewlery off his neck and onto Dewdrop's, still not letting go of it, precious metal digging in his palm.

"I'm tired of carrying this old thing around, and i'm already plenty rich. Do we have a deal ?"

Greed is always a bad influence, Swiss would know. It's currently shining in Dewdrop's eyes, surely thrumming in his veins. But he's not stupid, either.

"Right. And the real reason....?"

Huffing, Swiss yanks on the pendant, grinning from ear to ear.

"The real reason, is that i'll have a good excuse to hunt you down. I'll get this back. I'll catch you. I've missed the thrill of the chase."

It's not much of deal, more like a threat, or maybe a promise, but it's clear by the look on Dewdrop's face that he's game. Incapable of resisting the challenge.

"If you think you're up to it, it'll be my pleasure to prove you wrong, sheriff. It's a deal."

Swiss let go. They're still holding each other at gunpoint.

"My weapons, or you're not walking through the door," he warns.

"Windows would do," Dewdrop snarks back, though he does toss Swiss' second gun and knife on the table. His eyes flick up to Swiss' hat, hand twitching.

"Unless you intend to take me up on the ridding offer, I suggest you don't take that. You know the rule," Swiss smirks, earning an eye roll.

"Not tonight," Dewdrop breathes, slowly backing up toward the window, still aiming at Swiss' chest.

He's halfway through it when Swiss calls back.

"I'll see you soon, Dew."

The outlaw throws him a daring look, scarred cheek pulling with how wide he smiles, and it's the last thing Swiss sees before he jumps off.

Alone in his kitchen, Swiss laughs.

This will be fun.

[the-fenton-anticreep-stick]

Sane People: who posts Gray Ghost Phantom Thief AU fics at 3am?

Me: oh boy, 3am!

[sailingmakai]

(( I think one day I might write a list of all my aus just so people can see exactly how many I have. Maybe see what ones people are most interested in.

Or I might save them to pull out at random like a rabbit from a hat whenever people ask about aus

Not sure yet. I def wanna write a lot more of them, more often, though, one day. Maybe once I'm less full of anxiety about the whole thing. ))

[eyeoftheaxolotl]

head animaticking about my zork au of ace attorney over and over and over. i cannot stress enough how cool itd be to like. animate these mfs. i need you guys to see it

[yandere-daydreams]

Title: Dragon On The Tower Roof.

Pairing: Yandere!Malleus x Reader (TWST).

Word Count: 4.2k.

TW: Fantasy AU, Mentions of Blood/Bruising, Mentions of Injury to Reader, Implied (Consensual) Sex, Possessive Behavior, and Manipulation.

Malleus met you at the base of his tower.

With a single movement of his wings, he descended from his perch and landed in front of you – placing himself between you and the stone behemoth. Had you been a more imposing figure, a knight or a prince or the general of some distant army, he would’ve cut you down the moment you entered his valley, but your only armor was a thin rucksack tunic and your only weapon was a rusted sword – the tip of its chipped blade currently planted in the ground as you struggled to keep yourself on your feet. He could smell blood on you, although he couldn’t be sure if its source was the jagged, poorly bandaged wound on your calf or the dark stains painting your humble clothes. You were clearly not a knight, much less a prince, and if you were a general, your army had abandoned you long ago. Altogether, you were not the most intimidating nuisance he had ever had to dismiss. He might’ve been grateful, had you not been a nuisance at all.

In the past, his visage alone had been enough to make even the bravest adventure abandon their quest, but your weary eyes only glazed over his black-scaled wings, his spiraling horns, the slit pupils of his unnaturally green eyes. You acknowledged him with a slight nod, putting more of your weight on your makeshift aid. “I believe I’m here to slay you, dragon.”

His greeting, likewise, came in the form of a bowed head, a narrowed gaze. “And to rescue the prince, I assume.”

You shrugged, the gesture alone threatening to cost you your balance. “I’m sure they’d prefer if I didn’t. I think they’ve got someone else for that – a lord, or maybe a king. Someone more befitting than a filthy criminal, surely.”

At that, Malleus felt the ghost of a smile tug at the corner of his lips. Novelty was rare, this far into his everlasting life, and he could not say he’d ever had a prisoner sent after his head. “What sort of crime gets you sent to the lair of a monster?”

You brightened at the question. “Thievery,” you answered, pride overshadowing your exhaustion. “I could either face you or let them cut off my hands and, well, I find those to be quite essential to my burgeoning career.”

This time, you earned an airy laugh, a reflexive flick of his tail. He took another moment to evaluate you before speaking. “You are tired, thief.”

It wasn’t a question, but you answered regardless. “It was a long journey. You aren’t an easy monster to reach.”

“And injured, presumably by the fangs of some great beast of legend.”

“Right again.” You paused, then added, “If there are any legends about wolves, I mean.”

“And hungry.” Your smile fell. When you failed to respond, he went on. “May I invite you to share a meal with me before our battle?”

He watched as you swallowed, as you straightened. Your sword was pulled from the ground and allowed to hang limply at your side as you stared up at him with such a hopeful expression – his heart, had it not been so terribly calloused, might’ve broken at the sight alone. “Well,” you started, your humor gone in exchange for pure, unabashed desperation. “I suppose I can’t refuse such a kindly offered invitation.”

With no further conversation, he stepped to the side, raising his staff to the tower. After only a moment, the endless cobblestone pulled away to reveal a simple, wooded door – already open and awaiting his entry. Smiling, he motioned for you to follow him, and without protest, you obeyed.

~

You ate, to put it politely, like a starving animal.

There’d been an attempt at decency when you first sat down at the opposing head of his banquet table, a gallant effort to make use of the flatware arranged into neat, never-ending lines on either side of your plate, but what little energy you had for such pleasantries was depleted quickly as your attention was dedicated entirely to the whims of your empty stomach. Countless other dishes decorated the table – ranging from fine delicacies fit for the pallets of kings to common staples even the lowest of peasantry would’ve been familiar with, but Malleus was content to nurse a goblet of dark, herbed wine as he watched you bask in the feast.

Only after you’d gotten your fill did you seem to remember that you had company, your expression taking on a sheepish note. “This is what they brought me to trial for. Trespassing, I mean,” you began, and Malleus hummed in acknowledgement. “It was a baron’s manor – not quite a castle, but close to it. I heard he had the most beautiful gardens on this continent, and at the time, it seemed unreasonable to have to wait for an invitation just to take a look.”

“I thought you were a thief?”

“You must have the wrong person. I’ve been many things, but never a thief.” You leaned back in your chair. “I’m afraid I’ve always been too tender-hearted for that kind of thing. I could never stand to insult my hosts.”

“Such a considerate guest I have,” he said, cocking his head to the side. “I suppose I won’t have to worry about being robbed blind if I let you stay the night, then.”

You shook your head, feigning ego. “I would never, dear dragon. Your reclusive prince, on the other hand—”

Whatever you might’ve gone on to say was swiftly replaced with a sudden gasp as every torch within sight burst into a pillar of vicious emerald flame, casting the dining room in a blinding, sickly green before dying out just as abruptly as it’d erupted. Malleus let out an exasperated breath, bringing a hand to his temples. “My apologies. My patience has grown—” He cast a wayward glance toward the ash now seared into the stone walls, the ceiling. “—thin, over my time here.”

You allowed a beat to pass by in silence, then another. “Your prince,” you said, finally. “Is he important to you?”

“I can think of nothing I value more.” The answer came easily, even if the intensity of his sentiment surprised him. “An old friend asked me to ensure his safety. I’ve performed my role dutifully ever since.” The taste of blood rose into the back of his throat, but he drowned it out with another long sip from his goblet. “They used to send entire armies to reclaim him, then lone knights, then the occasional adventurer. You might be the first human to come seeking my head in two or three decades.”

Your smile took on a shy lilt, your eyes drifting to the table. “I wasn’t really supposed to come after you, either. Most people just take it as an exile, but they gave me a sword, and…” It was your turn to laugh, now, to be surprised with yourself. “I didn’t have anywhere else to go. I thought, even if I don’t get to rescue any princes, it could be nice to see how much of the fairy tale is true.”

“And you’re satisfied with what you’ve found?”

“Not entirely,” you admitted. “But I’m glad I met you, dear dragon.”

After some hesitation, he pushed himself to his feet and closed the distance between you. You stiffened, your gaze flitting blatantly toward the sole exit, but you didn’t attempt to flee as he pulled the closest seat in front of you and fell into it. “May I see your leg?”

You were far more than reluctant, but complied. The material of your travel weary trousers was pulled above your knee, the strips of fabric you’d attempted to fashion into bandages cut away with his own pitch-black talons. The wound was worse than he’d assumed, more severe than he assumed. Ragged skin stretched from your knee to your ankle, harsh puncture marks littering what little flesh was still in-tact. The stress of your journey had prevented the brunt of the damage from healing, and even without the use of his advanced senses, he would’ve been able to feel the heat radiating off of your skin, the first signs of infection beginning to set in. You were lucky you’d made it to his tower before the fever spread. His territory was cruel to the most resilient of creatures, and you seemed far from resilient.

“I have a salve in my collection that should aid in your recovery. That, paired with a few days of bed rest, should have you on your feet again in a week’s time.” Not a lie, but not far from one, either. He’d mended worse with a snap of his fingers, but there was no reason you should have to be burdened with such knowledge. “If you can find it within yourself to share a roof with a monster and delay our duel yet again, I can provide room and board while you recover.”

Your laugh was bright and strained. “You’re terribly kind to someone who came here to take your life.”

“And you’re very trusting of a creature who could easily end yours.” He let his pointed claws scrape over your bare skin, prolonging his evaluation. “Think of it as a show of my gratitude. My time here is well-spent, but tends to pass slowly. Visitors, whether benevolent or malicious, help to color my days.”

“Then I will have to be the most colorful visitor you’ve ever had,” you chimed, your grin renewed with fresh vigor. Clearly, you were not the type of mortal who could go long without a task. “I’ll make you wait on me hand and foot and bend to my every whim, until the thought of encountering another human being makes you sick. When I’m done, there might even be a dragon in this tower worth slaying.”

His only response was a steady nod, a low hum. He stood and, in the same motion, hooked one arm under the bend of your knees and another around your waist, lifting you into the air before you had the chance to so much as think to pull away. Instinctually, you attempted to re-balance yourself against him, and Malleus couldn’t help himself – laughing as he pulled you to his chest. “If I am to dote on you to the point of sickness, then let me start now. You’re in no state to walk on your own.”

You opened your mouth as if to complain, but anything you might’ve said was deemed too unimportant to warrant the effort. Your smile softened, your eyes falling shut as you rested your head against his shoulder. You lingered there, quiet and content, as he carried you through the halls of what would come to be your home.

~

Your prescribed period of bed rest came and went. Your bruises healed, then your leg (although you still tended to limp during particularly heavy rainstorms), and your exhaustion was replaced by a buzzing sort of restlessness. He never asked you to leave, and after some time, you seemed to stop expecting him to. You spoke rarely of your past (aside from the ever-changing series of events that led you to his tower, of course) and never of your future. When Malleus was in one of his more indulgent moods, he allowed himself to believe that, when he did catch you looking in his direction with such a glimmering worry in your eyes, you weren’t afraid of him, but of the possibility that he might send you away.

Despite your claims of spoiled houseguests and encumbered hosts, he was only driven to near-madness once while sharing your company. It’d been shortly after you instated yourself as a resident of his tower, rather than a fleeting visitor, and took to exploring your new dwelling without reservation. It’d been his own fault, really. He’d forgotten to warn you away from the upper wing, to resketch the protective runes he’d long-since allowed to fade, but such rationality had escaped him as he stood in the doorway, his mind empty and his eyes trained on your kneeling figure. He watched, paralyzed, as you raised a hand, reaching towards the marble slab, and then he was behind you – the points of his talons grazing the skin of your throat before he managed to restrain himself, curling his fist around the collar of your shirt, instead. Without warning, he hauled you off your feet, ignoring the half-choked shriek you let out in response.

His eyes fell to Silver, searching for any signs of harm, of disruption. Of course, Silver was unchanged. His colorless hair remained fanned over his velvet-cushioned pillow, the silk sheets and hand-stitched quilts still folded neatly at the foot of his bed – waiting to be put to use when the weather turned in autumn. Malleus took a moment to observe the rhythmic rise and fall of his chest, the gentle movement behind his closed eyes, before letting out a breath of relief and turning to you. “I don’t recall giving you permission to enter this chamber.”

“Sorry, I— I was just looking around, and I saw the flowers on the door—” Silver’s own craftsmanship, preserved from the ravages of time by Malleus’ spell work. He’d painted them as soon as he was old enough to hold a brush, along with matching murals on his bedroom walls that hadn’t survived the passing ages. “—I got curious, that’s all. Is this the prince I was sent after?”

Malleus set his jaw, straightening his hunched posture. “…it is,” he answered, eventually. He let go of your collar and let you stumble onto your feet. “His name is Silver. I never knew him by any titles.”

Malleus’ gaze shifted to you, but your eyes remained fixed on Silver. “He’s beautiful.”

Despite himself, he felt the edge of his lips turn downward. He rested a hand on your shoulder, and you seemed to recover from your daze, turning to face him with a hopeful smile. “Do you know when he’s going to wake up?”

Malleus felt a coil of heat form in the back of the throat. The taste of ash laid heavy over his tongue, but he swallowed back his guilt and forced himself to respond. “In another hundred years, perhaps,” he mused, his tone melodic and detached. “There’s no known cure for a curse like his.”

A phantom of disappointment flickered across your expression, but it was suppressed quickly. Rather, you turned your attention outward – to the heavy, woven curtains draped over each crystalline window. “Will you help me let in some light? I hate to insult your taste, but it’s terribly depressing in here, and—” You brightened, taking him by the sleeve and tugging gingerly. “We don’t want his highness to have any nightmares, do we?”

With some reluctance, Malleus nodded. “Light, but nothing else.” When you failed to acknowledge him, he caught you by the wrist, squeezing with just enough pressure for your smile to falter. “Light, but nothing else. Do you understand?”

Your eyes darted back to Silver, but only for a moment. He was thankful for that – for your restraint. A second longer, and his true nature might’ve overshadowed his better judgement. “Of course, dear dragon. Nothing else.”

He inhaled sharply, then let go of you altogether.

It was a choice that, in the approaching months, he would only come to regret.

~

“This is what they banished me for, you know.”

“This?”

“Yes, this exactly.” You propped your chin on his chest, positioning yourself to more easily card your fingers through his hair. He let his eyes fall shut, basking in the warmth of your affection, of your bare skin pressed into his. Your clothes laid discarded on the grass around you, one of his wings bent and raised to shield you from the harsh light of the setting sun. He would have to get you back to the tower, soon. He’d always been indifferent to the deadly chill of night, but you – in your precious, delicate mortality – were not so durable. “Actually, not quite – I don’t think I ever made it to this part. It was the first time I’d ever attended a royal ball, and I happened to dance with a young lady so breath-taking, I couldn’t help but drop to one knee and dedicate my heart to her the moment our hands touched.” You sighed, feigning remorse. “Little did I know that she was the princess that ball was being thrown for, and so moved by my passion, she refused to let me out of her embrace until I agreed to marry her. Of course, her father – the king, as the fathers of princesses tend to be – couldn’t have that. It’s a shame, really. We would’ve made a gorgeous couple.”

Malleus pursed his lips, fighting back a smile. “And what does that make me? The next scorned lover of a silver-tongued rouge?”

“Oh, no. If you asked me to marry you,” You propped yourself up, pressing a kiss into the curve of his jaw. “There’d be nothing in the world that could stop me, dear dragon.”

Your hand fell to his cheek, and wistfully, you lulled him into a kiss – shallow but lingering, punctuated with a playful nip at his bottom lip. You pulled back with a smile, another quick peck to his cheek. You moved to say something, but he interrupted you, as mournful as he was to cut off such a precious moment so callously. “I found your wildflowers.”

Immediately, your expression fell. “I made sure not to—”

“I know, beloved, I know.” You knew better than to lay a hand on Silver. Your small bouquet had been left on the corner of his bed, another additional chain of asters and lavender braided into one of the longer strands of his waist-length hair. As much as he wished he could say he was only concerned for Silver’s well-being, it wouldn’t have been the truth. Something else, something darker, had accompanied the discovery – something it would be better for you to stay ignorant of. “We’ve talked about this. Silver is vulnerable, in his current condition. Even the simplest luxury is an unspeakable risk.”

Your shoulders dropped, your body going slack against his. You bowed your head, burying your face in the dip of his shoulder, and despite his frustration with you, he didn’t push you away. “I’m sorry. It just feels so cruel to let him suffer alone.”

“He’s never been alone.” His tone was more curt than he’d meant it to be. “He’s always had me.”

“I know, but—” He expected you to raise your hair, to flash him that brilliant grin. Instead, you only settled against him, speaking softly into the crook of his neck. “He just seems so sad.”

Malleus took a deep breath, clenching his eyes shut.

Then, before he could let himself think better of it, he wrapped an arm around your waist. In one fluid motion, he turned you over – leaving you on your back, one of his knees planted on either side of your waist, your form tucked safely underneath his. His kiss was less gentle than your own – that deep, aching sort of hunger overwhelming his cautiousness as his tongue raked over yours, as he groaned unabashedly into your mouth. You returned his affection emphatically; your fingers soon knotted in his hair, your eager touch preventing so much as the thought of distance between your body and his. Because there never would be distance between you and him. Because there was no reason you should ever have to be taken away from him.

Hours later, when the last traces of light had faded and the stars were painted in swirling patterns across the sky, he would carry you back to his tower – unconscious and pliable in his arms. That would be the first night you spent in his bed, and as he laid there with you, he couldn’t help but imagine how wonderful it would be if you never left.

~

The runes carved into Silver’s door were redrawn, Malleus’ enchantments refreshed, and your bittersweet sympathy slowly rotted into a distinctly bland melancholy. You didn’t speak of him (Malleus could only wonder how you ever managed to speak of anyone when so many of his marks so often decorated your skin), but he noticed new scratches around the well-rusted lock on Silver’s door, caught you braiding chains of daisies and crowns of marigolds with no intended recipient in mind, and at night, you tended to slip out of his hold and wander. Sometimes, he waited for you, lying awake as you hunted for whatever solace there was to find in the empty halls of an ancient tower. Most nights, tonight, he chased after you.

He found you in a window near the tower’s highest room, laid across the wooden sill, your back propped against the empty frame. He didn’t ask to join you – wordlessly lowering himself to the floor at your feet. As if by reflex, your hand fell to his horns, your thumb tracing over a particular ridge near the base as you broke the quiet. “Have ever told you why I’m here, dear dragon?”

Countless times, but he still played along. “Who has my heart been stolen by today, beloved?”

“A murderer,” you said, hollowly. “And not a particularly clever one, at that.”

He waited for you to go on, to spin some elaborate tale of love and loss and betrayal and poor humor, but you only lapsed back into silence, your gaze turning back to the pitch-black valley. He watched your vacant expression for a moment, then another before letting his eyes fall shut and resting his cheek against your thigh.

~

Malleus had expected there to be more anger than this.

You were in a similar position to one you’d taken the first time you stumbled into Silver’s chambers – kneeling beside his marble bed, your ever-weary eyes fixed on the unknowing object of your adoration. The only difference was that, today, Silver’s hand was raised to your lips, now slightly parted in shock. He didn’t have to guess at the source of your astonishment. In front of you, Silver was sitting up. His posture was unsteady, his eyes barely open, but the obvious was undeniable.

He was awake.

To think, there was something of merit to Lilia’s stories of true love after all.

Rather than anger, rage, pure and undiluted fury, an odd sort of calm settled over his blank mind as you snapped in his direction. Your astonishment turned to horror in an instant. “Malleus, I didn’t— I was only trying to—”

He put you out of your mercy quickly. He raised his staff and, propelled by some unseen force, you were torn away from Silver’s bedside and thrown against the nearest walls – the force of the collision far from fatal, but enough to leave you limp and unconscious. With your safety ensured, he stepped forward, approaching Silver. He was awake, but only just. So many decades of uninterrupted sleep would not be so willing to release him from their taloned clutches without a struggle, and there was a certain dream-like lull to the way his eyes skirted over the limited scenery before settling on Malleus, his features immediately softening in relief. “Malleus?”

“I’m here.” Malleus allowed himself a small smile before bringing the end of his staff to Silver’s forehead. “You can rest, brother.”

There was just enough time for the edges of Silver’s lips to turn downward before he collapsed back onto the marble slab. Malleus would arrange him later on. For now, his attention turned to you.

He gathered your crumpled form in his arms and carried you through the halls of his lonely tower, before stepping into the clear air and fresh heat of the valley. He laid you in the tall grass and, after taking a moment to appreciate your peaceful expression, brought a hand to your face, cupping your cheek tenderly. The spell came to him instinctually, but he took his time, mourning the loss of your time together with each mumbled word. That was a silver-lining of immortality, though. Infinite time allowed for infinite repetition, and he couldn’t imagine giving up the opportunity to fall in love with you again.

When he was done, your eyes fluttered open, a smile quickly finding its way to your lips. “Hello, dragon.” You gazed darted to either side nervously, your mind struggling to catch up with your clever tongue. “I would love to introduce myself, but it’s the funniest thing – I can’t seem to remember what I’m doing here.”

He bit back a smile. You tried to force yourself into a more dignified position, but barely managed to get an arm underneath you before pausing, wincing, reaching for the back of your head and coming away with blood smeared across your fingertips. Malleus did what he could to hide his delight.

“You’re a thief. You injured yourself attempting to scale my tower. It was an impressive effort, but tragically unnecessary.”

This time, he couldn’t hide the wide, simpering grin that came to rest across his lips.

“I was always going to invite you inside.”

[new-revenant]

Danny thief au

Danny uses gadgets to help with his heists.

Grappling gear in a bracelet to hide flight

Smokebombs to hide intangiblity/invisibility in an escape

Flash bangs to take out cameras while he reaches through display cases and then picks the lock afterwards and leaves them unlocked

A pistol

To focus his ectoblasts

Gloves with capsules in them

They have an ectoplasm based coolant to form his ghost ice faster, only used in emergencies and it melts leaving no trace almost immediately

A modulator in his mask

For both disguising his voice when he needs to speak and for focusing his ghostly wail into something more contained. He only uses it for emergencies or if he's pressed for time

Hot damn these are good ideas! You’ve put a lot of thought into these, well done!

However, I think the gun would mostly just be rubber bullets coated with some ectoplasm. While using the gun for focusing his ectoblasts does sound cool, it would be very obvious that he’s doing so, as the gun would probably start glowing. He could use a flashbomb/smokebomb, but it’s not like he has an infinite amount of them, in fact he might not have a lot of them anyways. Don’t you love resource management?

[glow-in-the-dark-death]

So here is another DPXDC crossover idea nice-ish pariah dark au pariah dark dad au pariah dark x clockwork gender-fluid Danny au ghost prince Danny au Danny x Damien Danny steeling lost artifacts from places so that they don’t get into the wrong hands and Gotham has a bunch

Danny has taken up the job of helping get lost artifacts from the zone back to the infinite realms and giving items lost the zone back to the families of those that lost them Danny is having fun evading the superheroes

Damien is having fun trying to catch the thief that was stealing supposedly cursed artifacts and is surprised when he finally corners the thief that it is a someone his own age and is even more surprised when the thief disappears the literally second he turns his back

Let's see what prompt I can come up with. ✧◝(⁰▿⁰)◜✧

~

Chase Me, Catch Me, Will You Love Me?

When he was a child he dreamed of going to space being able to chase the vastness of stars.

After his accident that was a dream he had to give up, after that his life became too busy to really think about it.

Gaining powers

Fighting ghosts each day

Trying to do her best in school

Realizing her gender

Evading and escaping his parents

The GIW

He needed a break but not because of this

This being his parents finding out about them being Phantom and not taking it well.

Ha

'Not taking it well' was an understatement.

She fled to the Infinity Realms towards ClockWork. CW felt more like his dad than Jack had for a long while now. He was a bit suspicious when CW told him that the Zone had decided to rehabilitate Pariah Dark but so far he had been staying in line if a bit of a harsh grump and maybe a future parental figure with how he and CW seemed to look at each other when they thought the other wasn't paying attention.

But on the other hand she was thankful he was still king and not Danny, wow had that been a shock to her finding out he was almost king before he was even an adult, he was still titled prince but at least he wasn't the one in charge of everything.

Speaking of being in charge of things, they as a prince still had duties to fulfill, ClockPa had decided it was best for his growth that she return to Earth but not the same one where he would be in danger, no instead it was an Earth with multiple heroes and magic and even aliens!!!

The only thing he had to do was find haunted or ecto powered objects and either return them to their rightful owner or have it put somewhere secure.

"This is going to be so much fun!"

~

Damian had a new rogue, they called themselves Phantom and their crimes resembled greatly of Catwoman's only with seemingly spiritual centered objects.

He had already faced the teasing of all his siblings about how he was resembling father

...and as much as he hated agreeing with them, after almost a year of constantly fighting, chasing, bantering and most recently actually getting to talking he had learned that they were very close in age and had a lot of similar interest they could talk about together with for hours if given the chance.

Soon their dynamic slowly began shifting without either realizing it,

And well who knows what the future holds for them but until then,

The chase continues.

~

Fin

~

Hope you liked it Anon

~

Just an Idea

[halcyone-of-the-sea]

8k Event Masterlist (Reverse AUs)

NAVIGATION || All fics are F!Reader || I do not own any of the media shown || Original AUs

PREY || Hunter!Simon 'Ghost' Riley x F!Werewolf!Reader || Finished

FROM FAR DISTANT WATERS || Merman!John Price x F!Artist!Reader || Finished

CAT-EYES || Runaway Groom!John 'Soap' MacTavish x F!Thief!Reader || Finished

IRIDESCENT ABNORMALITIES || Fae!Kyle 'Gaz' Garrick x F!Botanist!Reader || Not Started

FANART:

All Character Doodles

Merman!John & Artist!Reader

[layyeschips]

Patron Ghost King AU #2

A sort of continuation to this

"hey bats, I think your kid's broken" "hn" "what's green flavour?" "what's a poptart?" "dude you don't know what a poptart is?!?!?"

Tim couldn't be bothered to figure what came from who, not when he's just trying to block out the unnecessarily bright lights of the watchtower. So he did the thing that any other self respecting tired student™️ would do, which is tossing the spare oreo he had in his suit pocket onto the hastily drawn summoning circle that one John Constantine brought with him on a piece of paper.

Now the last thing the League was expecting to happen was the lights dimming and green smoke coming from the printer paper that John took from who knows where.

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

Danny doesn't usually do this much paperwork in one sitting but someone just left a full mug of coffee on his shrine in hopes of being able to finish their assignment on time so he might as well finish the small pile he has on his desk. Ever since he accidentally gained a following he could taste the offerings and even feel the strong emotions from each one of them. It's not a really a big deal, pushing waves of calm/relax/focus doesn't take much energy and the offerings are nice too. So when he felt the pull of a summoning followed by drowsiness, exhaustion and the familiar taste of a stale oreo, who was he to reject the call of one of his favourite humans?

First of all, kind of rude to be summoning your patron by using such a small summoning circle but he'll cut the poor student some slack. Secondly, bright lights were definitely no good for this sleep deprived human, he'd probably be more comfortable if Danny turns it down a bit. The room full of heroes and magic users were unexpected but, hoLY- IS HE IN SPACE????? Did he say one of his favourites? He meant his number 1 favourite.

Sorry this was a bit short but feel free to write down/comment your own additions to this au. I also don't mind if anyone wants to write their own fic based on this but do tag me if you do!

Also sorry if I missed some tags, I tried. I won't be doing a tag list in the future because I don't want there to be people who are left out

[tag list] @gin2212 @jaggedheart11 @amercurio @raven-6-10 @onlyhereforthechaos @booklover9114 @fisticuffsatapplebees @overtherose @impulsiveasshole @shorterthanadverage @mimilikey @mnemovoid @chip-thief @mouzerequis @thegatorsgoose @spectralstardustandphantomnights @malice-of-the-sunrise @temporalhunter @nappinginhell @idkmrpianoman @vythika96 @seraphinedemort @meira-3919 @avelnfear @akikkobara @addie-lover-of-stories @ghostface3100 @yurineko135 @sjrose1216 @proper-idiocy @screamingtofillthevoid @sailor-goddess @the-legal-shipper @alcorbearson @dannyphantomphan @lady-time-lord- @starlightcat04 @liedboutmurder @jerithe @dixiwoods @gamma-radio @mirellacoco @blankliferain @violetfox2 @nexux-point

[lucid-loves]

Taste Like Venom ~ Simon "Ghost" Riley Part 1

Pairing: Simon "Ghost" Riley x assassin!reader (fem!reader, no use of y/n, callsign “Hex”)

Word Count: 3.4k

CW: angst, violence, blood, strong language, scars, enemies to friends to lovers trope, slow burn, plot, clear attraction and sexual tension, smut later on, reader POV and ghost POV, minors dni, Soap lives in this AU

Let me know if I missed any CWs.

Synopsis: After Makarov gets away again, Laswell decides to force a favor from you, the world’s greatest assassin and best-kept secret. You are now expected to help the 141 with taking down Makarov in addition to playing nice with them. It’s hard to play nice when you have always worked alone. It doesn’t help that one of the team members, Ghost, gets curious about you with each interaction. 

Part 1 ~ Part 2 ~ Part 3 ~ Part 4 ~ Part 5 ~ Part 6 ~ Part 7 ~ Part 8 ~ Part 9 ~ Part 10

You’ve always been a light sleeper, if you could even be called that. The truth was that you hardly slept at all. Bedtime was always more like cat-nap time. Light, soundless, ready to pounce at the sound of dust falling to the floor. That’s how you trained yourself and the habit stuck, even if you don’t take missions anymore. It was hard to deprogram a killing machine. 

The two years have been peaceful even if you were always on edge. Semi-retirement has been kind in only giving you the sounds of the forest trees in the wind, the gentle rush of the creek, birds singing every morning, and most importantly, no visitors. The world didn’t know that you existed and you preferred to keep it that way for as long as you could. While you did feel the phantom blood dripping down your hands every now and then to an unsettling reminiscent degree, you did like this little slice of heaven that was your off-grid cabin. It was a good place to be before you undoubtedly go to hell in the end.

You were in your bed when you heard the rustling of the forest floor just outside your window. Steps. But not the steps belonging to a fox or bear you have learned to recognize over time. These were the steps of a man. No, multiple men. The way the foot falls of a man walking is an undeniable melody you have heard thousands of times. In the dead of night, you bolted up out of bed and reached for your throwing knife and a pistol, always kept at your bedside. Like a thief in your own home, you silently followed the sounds outside along the walls until you reached the living room. They were going to come in through the front door. 

Under the cover of darkness, you readied your aim at the door. To your surprise, they were messing with the keypad that locked your house down, inputting codes with a subtle click and then beep of a correct code. No one should know the code except for two people. Laswell and yourself. 

As soon as the door revealed moonlight and a silhouette, you fired your gun. A warning shot. Grazing right past neck. The men stopped and immediately aimed their own rifles, but the one in front held his hand up in surrender. Following orders, the rifles were lowered. You were the first to speak, your voice dripping with venom. “State your purpose and maybe I won’t kill you all where you stand.”

A gentle yet deep Liverpudlian accent voiced back. “Easy now. We don’t mean harm. Laswell sent us here. Code Swan.”

“Song?” You replied, your muscles still tense, unwilling to lower your defenses until the full code was complete. It is what ensured both yours and Laswell’s safety.

“Black Death.” He replied back. You stayed in position for a few moments before finally sighing and lowering your weapon. You turned on a table lamp next to you to get a better look at the intruders. Four men stood in your doorway. One with a fishing hat, one with a mohawk, one with a baseball cap, and one with a skull mask. They were all tall, big with muscle, and seemingly not American from their patches. An interesting bunch to say the least. 

“Fucking Laswell.” You cursed Kate’s name. She should have contacted you about this. You were just about to paint the porch with her mens’ brains. You hated surprises. You often killed them before finding out the intentions. 

With a wave of your hand, you invited the men to come into your cabin. They cautiously came in, surveying the layout and now understanding what Kate meant when she said that you were “belligerent.”

You turned on the main lights and tried to get a fire going to relieve some of the autumn chill that had crept through the house. Their leader began to unload his things on the kitchen table, sighing from the weight relief. His men joined in, save for one. You could feel his eyes on you as you encouraged the fire. You didn’t even have to look back to know that he was watching your every move. 

“It’s rude to stare.” You warned curtly as you stood and turned. The man in the skull mask and balaclava didn’t avert his gaze.

His voice was rich and gruff like gaboon ebony. His Manchester accent came clear as day. “You’re half naked.”

He was referring to the large band shirt and boyshort panties that you were wearing. What did he expect from someone that thought that enemies were breaking in? You rolled your eyes and scoffed. “I’m in my pajamas. Besides, a good soldier shouldn’t get distracted by any amount of nudity.”

His blue eyes narrowed at your dig. He was a good soldier. An excellent soldier actually. One of the best. But excellent, good, or bad, no one would be able to resist staring at your figure. The exposed thighs, the large neckline of the shirt hanging off your shoulder, various scars scattered across skin like an abstract painting. He’s never seen anyone like you before. 

Too bad you had a combative mouth. 

Before he could get a word in, you had walked off into the kitchen, not bothering to go get pants on. It was your home for fuck’s sake. Besides, there were more pressing matters than your clothes or lack thereof. 

You began to pull out all the food you had out of your fridge. Everything from deli meat to leftover lasagna was being laid out on the large quartz island. You weren’t going to heat anything up or make something new, but the laid out spread would be enough. You weren’t a completely heartless host. Just a bare minimum one.

Once the food was out for pickings, you headed back near the dining room, leaning against the doorframe. The boys had maps, blueprints, and laptops covering every surface of your table. Your beautiful, hand-made pine table. This was to be their new safehouse for now. Hopefully not for too long.

“Captain, it’s connecting now.” The one with the mohawk called out. The captain came right over to greet the screen.

“Laswell, can you hear us?”

“Loud and clear, John. Did everything go well?” Kate chipperly asked. You haven’t heard her voice in a long while. You almost forgot how nice her voice actually was.

“She nearly shot my fuckin’ neck off.” Mohawk-guy grumbled. 

Kate gave a light, short laugh. “Sounds like it went smoothly then. The best that it could be. She there?”

All four men looked up to you, expecting you to come over and face Laswell through the screen. However, you stayed where you were. Instead, you spoke loud enough for your friend to hear. “Kate Laswell.”

“Hex, I’m sorry that I couldn’t warn you about this beforehand. You know I wouldn’t have done this if it wasn’t an emergency situation.” She began to apologize and justify. It was always an apology followed by a justification. You wondered if she even ever means her apologies, but in the end, you never really cared enough. However, now it is different.

“I don’t exist, Kate. And now four new people know that I do. . .” You retorted back.

It was silent for a moment, the tension in the air thick. She was on the other side of the screen, but it felt like you were going to get into a physical fight with her anyways. “They’re trustworthy. I trust them with my life and the lives of millions upon millions. Just like I trust you. And as the only people that I trust, I need you to help them.”

“They have already taken over my home. What more do you want from me?” You clenched your jaw, trying to prepare yourself for an answer you probably wouldn’t like. Like hell were you going to play dorm mother to them and like hell you were going to just move out. The last thing you wanted was to take care of these men longer than necessary. This was already pushing that line for you.

“Athame.” She bluntly said. That was the worst answer she could have said. The confused looks the men gave each other made you grateful for a fleeting second. They didn’t understand your secret codes and languages. But they will soon.

Your jaw was clenched so hard that your teeth ached. You damn near cracked them. While your voice before was dripping with venom, it was now drowning in it. “Are you fucking kidding me?!”

“Hex, I-”

You finally came over, nearly pushing the captain out of the way in your warpath. Through the screen, Kate could see how angry you were. Not just angry, furious. She steeled herself, ready for your onslaught of curses, stopping herself midway through her explanation. “I don’t do this shit, Kate! I work solo for a very particular fucking reason. And now you want me to work with four strange men?! Now you want me to play nice?! I’m not a fucking soldier that can just be ordered around!”

“I know! I know. . . But. . . we’re desperate. I’m desperate, Hex. Please, this is the last favor I will ever ask from you. This is an awful target we’re talking about. Someone that is better off in this world dead.”

“You mean Makarov, right? Why should I clean up your government’s fuck-up? Again, might I add.” You spat. You lived off the grid and weren’t a citizen of anywhere, but you still watched the news. You always knew what was going on in the world among other secrets. Makarov was a threat to the world, but as far as you were concerned, it wasn’t your problem. If anything, the government needed this lesson as a direct consequence of their negligence and incompetence. 

“Because Chalice.” She simply stated, knowing that her final word was a last ditch effort. Chalice was an agreement that you two had made long ago. It could only be used once in your lives, a truly desperate resort for help. If one of you uttered it, then the other would have no choice but to help, no matter the request. That was the law between your friendship, among other things. The other code words were favors, but this was the ultimate one. Life or death.

You considered punching the laptop in anger. Right at Kate’s face. You didn’t like her call for Athame or Chalice, but now you didn’t have a choice but to comply. It didn’t mean that you weren’t still furious though. “Fuck you, Kate.”

“Thank you, Hex.” She breathed a sigh of relief. She wanted to tell you more about what she needed from you, but she knew that you had to cool off first otherwise you would burst into flames. That would've made things harder for all of you. So, she nodded as a signal for dismissal which you gladly took. You retreated to your room, locking the door shut and basking in the darkness. 

You could feel the blood boil within you. It burned your insides and choked you. Grabbing your pillow, you pressed it against your face and screamed out your frustration. When that didn’t help, you punched the exposed logs of your cabin wall until your knuckles were splintered and bleeding.

~

Ghost sat on the couch, his thoughts swirling with uncertainty. The rest of the meeting with Laswell was brief, wanting them to try to decompress for the next several hours. Sleep, eat, process. All in the comfort of an assassin’s home. 

Compared to your personality, the cabin was decorated warmly. Everything was cozy, earthy, and fresh. The fire crackled comfortably, the plush couch was broken in, and every wooden piece of furniture looked hand-made. Bookshelves were filled with classic books and another shelf collected various music records. The only thing that seemed out of place was the lack of real personal mementos. No pictures, no art, not even knick-knacks. The others didn’t seem to notice or care as they picked through the food left in the kitchen. But for Simon, it left him uneasy.

He recalled the briefing before they were sent to the middle of nowhere to you. Kate said that you were an old friend of hers from high school. You have been friends ever since, but you were different than most people. You were a deadly assassin unknown by the world. No records, no pictures, not even a birth certificate. You handled delicate problems with grace and grave justice. You always worked alone, you didn’t trust others, and you were deadly. Everything about you was a secret until Kate made the crucial choice to ask for your help. Hell, they didn’t even know your call sign until Kate said it over the video call. 

“You should eat, Lt. There’s a lot of options, but they’re dwindling fast.” Soap patted him on the shoulder, awakening him from deep thought. Ghost looked up at the sergeant, watching him stuff a sandwich into his mouth. It looked like all the deli meat from one packet was in between the bread. No lettuce or tomato. 

“In a bit. I’m gonna talk to Hex real quick and ask some questions.” He replied and got up from the couch. 

Soap swallowed nervously. “Kate said that she’s gonna need time to cool off. . .”

“Our new member is part of the team now. She’s gonna have to get used to us even if she wants time for herself.” He justified it with a shrug of his shoulders. Soap shook his head and walked back into the kitchen, knowing that what Simon was about to do was most likely going to be a bad idea.

Ghost walked down the hall, observing each door as he passed them. Most of them were slightly open revealing extra bedrooms, an office, and a bathroom. Only two of them remained closed, both locked with keypads. For a second, he wondered which bedroom was yours before he could hear the sound of light music behind one of them along with swearing. It made him wonder what was behind the other door that was locked down.

Deciding to let it go for now, he approached your door and knocked. “Hex, open up.”

He heard you let out a frustrated groan before the door opened up. It was only just enough to see you, the pure darkness behind you, and the blood dripping down your fists. He crossed his arms over his broad chest and quirked a brow that you couldn’t see behind the mask. It didn’t take a genius to realize what you had done. “Are you done throwing a temper tantrum?”

You scowled at him, a fire in your eyes that made Simon’s heart skip a beat which confused him. He wasn’t afraid of you, so why would his heart alter its beat for you?

“If I knew that you were just going to insult me, I would’ve shot you dead on my porch.” You bitterly snapped, moving to close the door in his face. However, Ghost stopped it from slamming and took your hand in his, observing the damage you’ve done to yourself.

Your breath caught in your throat. Electricity ran through you at his touch. When was the last time someone has touched you? You attempted to pull back, but his hand firmly gripped yours. “Hey! What the fuck? Let go of me!”

“Calm down and let me see. It hurts, doesn’t it? Stings?” 

You narrowed your eyes, but eventually nodded. It did sting and the dripping blood already stained your carpet. However, you could take care of it yourself. You didn’t need some man coming in to try to fix you. “I’ll be fine. I can tend to it myself.”

“First aid in the bathroom?” He asked, seeming to ignore your clear hint that you wanted to be alone. 

Understanding that he probably wouldn’t drop this until he saw gauze around your knuckles, you headed to the hall bathroom with a huff, opened up the cabinet, and took out the first aid kit. You then took a seat at the edge of the tub and began patching yourself up. Every now and then you looked up towards the doorway, making sure that the skull man was watching you take care of yourself. Without his help. Without anyone’s help.

Finally, your hands were wrapped and the bleeding had stopped. You held up your hands towards him. “Happy now? Will you leave me alone now?”

“Hex.” Ghost simply said as a warning. God, you were infuriating. An attitude problem was something he would normally be able to snuff out immediately. He did it all the time when training new soldiers. Not you though. New soldiers were like little candles, easily blown out of their fire with just a breath. You? You were like a raging forest fire. One that clearly had its own traumas over years of service that the world may never know. 

You didn’t like how he studied you. How his eyes trained on you were a mix between hatred, curiosity, and something else that you couldn’t quite put your finger on. A magnetic pull that begged for you to look at him too. You also didn’t like how he was trying to treat you like one of his rookie soldiers. The only thing you wanted to do to make it all stop was to push him away. “Don’t talk to me like some new recruit straight out of school. I’ve already earned my place in the world with the amount of scars I have. So, don’t treat me like I’m under you. I won’t even let your captain talk to me like that.”

After putting the first aid back where it belonged, you attempted to leave the bathroom and retreat back to your bedroom. Yet, Ghost wasn’t giving up just yet. His hold body blocked the bathroom exit. He was tall, strong, and sturdy. It wasn’t hard for him to completely fill up the space. However, that didn’t intimidate you. You got up close, and looked straight into those icy blues. Even with the black warpaint, you could tell that his lashes were meant to be blonde. Some of the paint had flecked off revealing some true color. You wondered what the rest of his face looked like for a second. Just a second.

You stood your ground, engaging in a heated staring contest. It was like lightning crackling between the two of you. After a while though, Simon finally gave in and held his hand up like a handshake. “Lieutenant. They call me Ghost.” 

Hesitantly, you took his hand and firmly shook it, refusing to back down from a battle of wills. “Hex. That’s all you will know me by.”

Suddenly, he pulled you in closer, your chest almost touching his. On instinct, you pulled a knife from the waistband of your underwear. It was the one you took with you earlier for the showdown at the door. You held it to his neck, blade dipping in until you could feel the push back of skin. Ghost didn’t flinch or jump back at your defense. Instead, he whispered into your ear that he wanted to get close to in the first place. “As hard as you may try to fight it, you’re going to know me. And I’m going to know you.”

You bit back the shiver that went down your spine from the whisper, aching to slice his throat in retaliation. Chalice had you pinned, though. You had to avoid killing the people you are going to be working with at the very least. 

Ghost slowly backed up and headed back towards the kitchen for some food, leaving you to process what just happened. You silently walked back to your room without looking back at him, ears turning red and heart racing unnaturally. You didn’t want to give him any satisfaction by giving him any more attention. However, Simon was already somewhat satisfied. 

Yet, there was a part of him that wanted more.

Soap was eating a piece of lasagna when he walked in. Gaz and Price were quietly conversing at the other end of the island. It took a lot of food to fill up men like them. It wouldn’t take long for them to eat you out of your house and home unfortunately. 

“So, how did it go?” Soap nosely inquired. As Simon surveyed the food before picking out a tupperware full of stew, he shrugged casually.

“She almost sliced my head off.”

Soap suppressed a chuckle and did his best impersonation of Laswell. “Sounds like it went smoothly then.”

[queer-here-and-in-fear]

au where both twins go through the portal in not what he seems. and ford finds them and helps them out of the nightmare realm.. but he cant keep them. so he goes to the safest dimension he cant think of: a better world.

alternate fiddleford and later alternate ford agree to watch them until ford can get them home. anyway, shenanigans Ensue.

including but not limited too:

grunkle stan, wendy, and soos raising every form of HELL known to man to get the twins back. maybe even getting mcgucket involved.. shermie learning stan Lost his Grandbabies.

og ford occasionally visiting over the months like a weird absent father. feeling so Strange but parental abt these kids.. maybe even taking them on Adventures. those end badly ofc.

the twins being so Weird and Sad abt fiddleford for reasons he doesnt get

alternate ford and dipper bonding over getting over their weird fucked up bill possession trauma.

ALTERNATE FIDDLEFORD GETS MABEL A PIG. WHO SHE NAMES STOMPS.

the kids marvelling over this weird but better (?) gravity falls with alternate versions of all the main cast influenced by fords work. such as:

thief wendy who was forced to steal after her dad lost the ability to lumber because ford made gf protected land.

gleefuls who are northwest level rich after gravity falls became more suburban.

northwests who payed ford to get rid of the ghosts AGES ago and therefore pacificas even worse

amateur cryptid hunters candy and grenda who come by the research center often. their ford and fiddles honorary nieces.

(YES i am going to be weird and sad abt how Definitely Gentrified gravity falls would be in this au)

and ofc: the twins trying their darndest to reconnect the brothers.

[cod-dump]

Your teen au has me in a chokehold so I thought I would add something to it

Gaz, Ghost, and Farah steal each other’s clothes all the time like one day Gaz could walk in wearing Ghosts favorite band tee or Farah wearing Gaz’s iconic hat or ghost stealing a pair of socks from Farah

They also do this with price and Nikolai

At some point everyone has worn price’s fishing hat (I think it might be more of a bucket hat) ghost has worn Nikolai’s combat boots (they’re the same shoe size) Farah wears price’s T shirts and Gaz like to do a combo and wear price’s pants and Nikolai’s shirts

Nikolai at first didn’t like his stuff being stolen until one day everyone was wearing something from Nikolai and he just chose defeat.

(P.s ghost has accidentally wore one of Alex’s shirts because he thought that’s it was Gaz’s and when Price questioned him about it he said the first thing that’s came to mind and it’s was that’s the shirt belonged to soap.)

-🫠

Thief (teen!Ghost au)

———

Living in a house of three teenagers meant no one’s clothes were safe. They mostly stole from each other, sometimes out if spite, sometimes because they couldn’t find anything they wanted to wear. Or because they simply just want whatever it is that had caught their eye.

“SIMON THOSE ARE MY SOCKS!”

“YOU LEFT FUZZY SOCKS UNGUARDED AND YOU’RE SURPRISED I GRABBED THEM?”

Nikolai was used to the yelling over stolen clothes given the kids were starting to gravitate towards stealing John’s clothes… which meant his were next. He just knew one of them were going to grab something of his, he’s seen Simon eying his bomber jacket.

“Simon, no.”

He’s thankful for being practically immune to Simon’s tactical puppy eyes by this point, much to the kid’s annoyance. Unless he was genuinely upset, nothing he could do would get Nik to bow.

“Niiiiik, pleeaaasssseeeee— I wanna look good for Johnny on our date!”

Nik snorts, “You could be covered in horseshit and that boy would still look at you like you hung the stars.”

Simon tries to argue but Nik reached over and flicked his nose, the boy jerking away and shutting his mouth in response. The glare that followed made Nik remember who he was dealing with: Simon Price.

Simon said nothing more as he stalked away into the house, Nik certain he just invoked the boy’s wrath. He wasn’t scared but he was worried because Simon could get creative… and spiteful. So he was sure to tuck his jacket away in his SUV before settling down with John in bed that night to watch a movie. Nik was close to falling asleep, John was already tucked into his side, completely oblivious to the movie by this point but refusing to fall asleep.

If it had happened a moment later, he wouldn’t have caught it. It wasn’t a noticeable sound by any means, but Nik noticed. He knew what it was too— His car door being shut as quietly as possible. He felt his eye twitch, eyes looking over to where his keys rested on the dresser.

That brat broke into my car.

Nik, of course, was angry that someone broke into his SUV… but he was also a bit proud that Simon was the one to do it successfully without setting off the alarm.

Nik carefully slid out of bed, John grumbling at him leaving before he flopped over where Nik was laying and almost instantly fell asleep. Nik just snorts before he went to slid his boots on, quickly discovering that they were missing. He blinked before he realized where they were.

“Oh, so we raised a thief,” John made a curious grunt at that, a sign that he heard Nik say something, but the fact he just went back to sleep showed that he didn’t register any of Nik’s words.

He ended up grabbing some tennis shoes before leaving, determined to figure what Simon was up to. He had to grab one of John’s jackets considering he knows his bomber had been snatched. He went out to his SUV, glaring at the apparently undisturbed vehicle. Simon was nowhere in sight and Nik had no choice but to wait for him to come back… Well, he did have a choice but he didn’t feel like tracking down the kid.

So he returned to bed, deciding that he’ll have a chat with Simon in the morning.

Nik was the first up, heading straight to the kitchen to make a pot of coffee. He noticed that his boots had been returned so Nik assumed his jacket had also been returned. A second time Simon had managed to get into Nik’s SUV without setting off the alarm. Where did he learn to do that? From his friends?

Nikolai was deep in thought, glaring at the brewing coffee pot as John walked into the kitchen with a yawn. He was greeted with a kiss to his shoulder before John went to grab mugs for the coffee.

“What did that brewer do to you?” John joked as he slid Nik’s favorite mug on the counter in front of him.

“Hm? Oh, nothing I’m just thinking.”

“Well, don’t think too hard or you’ll scare the thing into not wanting to work.”

“Eh, I’ll buy you a new one.”

“… On a second thought, break it. I need a new one, anyways… especially after the ramen incident with Simon.”

Nikolai snickers, hearing someone come down the stairs with a light yet heavy step. Farah, barely awake, walks into the kitchen a grunts a ‘morning’ before sitting down into a chair.

“Is the coffee ready?”

“Farah-“

“I’m an adult!”

Nikolai could hear the boys moving around upstairs, knowing that they probably won’t come down until they smell food. Nik hums before he pours himself a cup of coffee, blowing on it as he steps away from the coffee maker.

“I need to check my email.”

No one said anything as he left, heading upstairs to have a talk with Simon. He knocked on Kyle’s door as he passed, “Go help your dad with breakfast.”

A tired whine was his immediate response, “Niiiik-“

“I could do it, and burn everything. Or Farah can do it and make it spicy-“

Kyle liked spice, Nik liked spice and so did John— Farah’s spice tolerance was terrifying. John handled it better than the rest of them but it would be a lot for breakfast. Kyle left his room rather quickly, almost slipping down the stairs in the process.

“Slow, Kyle!”

“I’m fine!”

Nik makes sure Kyle gets down the stairs safely before he moved on to Simon’s room. He knocked on the door, a muffled grunt and Riley barking answering him a moment later. Nik opens the door and there was Simon, buried under his mountain of blankets and Riley in his play pen, jumping around with his tail wagging when he saw Nik. Nik closed the door and sipped his coffee before he set it on the TV stand.

Simon poked his head out from under the blankets, hair poking everywhere and worn eyeliner that he clearly forgot to wipe off smeared around his eyes. He stared at Nik in confusion while Nik just leaned on his door with a knowing smirk. Simon blinked before his eyes widened, sitting up quickly and throwing a few blankets to the floor as he did.

“M-morning, Nik…”

“Late night?”

Simon’s eyes flickered to his closet before he forces himself to look at Nik, “No…”

“Hmm… You sure?”

Nik moved towards the closet and Simon scrambled off the bed to grab him. Nik groaned when Simon grabbed him around the middle, when did he get so big? He used to be just a tiny boy, where did this guy come from?

Nik wrestled Simon for a moment, trying to pry him off so he can get to the closet. He managed to throw Simon back on his bed, freezing for a moment because he was certain Simon was going to bounce off and into the wall. Thankfully he didn’t, stunning him and allowing Nikolai to swing open his closet door.

“Oh? What’s this? My jacket!?”

Nik grabs his bomber jacket, presenting it to Simon. Simon was pale, eying his door and window. Nik tucked his jacket under his arm before he made a face at Simon, waiting for him to start talking.

“I snuck out last night to go to a party with Johnny.”

Nik blinked, “A party?”

Simon was not a party kid. Sure, he hung out with Alejandro and their friends but Nik couldn’t recall them ever partying.

“Yea— I wanted to look cool so I borrowed your jacket!”

“And my boots.”

Simon gawks, truly horrified that Nik knew about the boots, “I-I brought them back! Please don’t tell Dad!”

Nik stares at him, looking to the whining Riley before he steps over to Simon, “Fine, I won’t tell your dad… if you tell me where you learned how to break into cars.”

“I-I-“

“Was it that hooligan friend of yours?”

Simon lightens up, “Ale doesn’t like it when you call him that.”

“Well, that’s what he is so he should get over it.”

Simon snorts, “No, it wasn’t Ale… Uh-“

“Simon-“

“… It was Johnny.”

Nik makes a face, “Johnny? Your good little Catholic boyfriend?”

“His dad’s a mechanic so he knows how to poke around cars.”

“And he taught you how to do it?”

Simon wouldn’t meet Nik’s eyes, fear in his eyes. Nikolai just huffed, truly impressed, “That’s a keeper.”

Simon blinked and looked up at Nik, “What?”

“That boy managed to get you to sit down and learn something new! You’re so hard to teach new things, let alone wiring and car mechanics! He’s a keeper!”

Simon bites lip, holding back a big smile. Riley finally let out a loud, high pitched bark, tired of being ignored. Nik reaches over and tries to smooth and tame Simon’s hair before his grabbed Simon’s ear in a pinch.

“OW! NIK!”

“That’s for stealing my shit. Now go take Riley out before he explodes.”

Simon jumps up and goes to get Riley, Nik opening the door and letting the boy run through with the squirming puppy. Simon went down the stairs at a nerve-racking speed before he took Riley to the back door to let him into the back garden. Breakfast was almost done, Kyle and John just waiting for Nik and Simon to join Farah at the table.

“What was with the thumping upstairs?”

Nik just grinned, “Waking up Simon.”