#how did they become birds

[cauldron-of-oddities]

Family fluff for the owl and the crow. And a little bit of background.

Powder has a nightmare and tries to distract herself back to sleep with the mundane noises at the bar. Only it seems having a fright can make things a bit more hairy, or should I say featherd?

Feather-tales

Powder feels small, unable to do anything, of being too scared and confused to do anything. The air around her is red and orange tinted and chokingly thick. She can hear shots and screams, though there's no one to be seen on a bridge that stretches out endlessly. She reaches out for Vi's hand only to grasp at nothing and then trip over an unseen edge and fall towards the wine red water below. Her heart clenches, and she goes icy cold with fear. She wants to, no, needs to fly! But her wings don't come. She's far, far too young to change. Powder tears her eyes open as the icy water hits her, and the darkness surrounds her. Hiccuping and gasping for breath, she wakes. A nightmare.

It isn't long before the first sniffle and another escapes her. She sits up, draws her knees to her chest, and leans her head on them, hoping to muffle her crying. She's seven, she's too big to be crying over nightmares, or so she tells herself. Powder wraps her arms around her head and tries to do as Vander told her. Focus on what's there, what's real.

She's in her bed, the fabric scratchy and smelling of soap, a single crystal hangs above her head, glinting in the sliver of light coming through the creak in the door. Vi is softly snoring above her in the bunk bed. Focusing on the crystal, she tries to think of all the different colours she wants. Her breathing finally evens out, and she lies back down, closing her eyes only for dreads cold fingers to creep back in.

Giving up, she crawls out of bed and up the ladder to her sister. “Vi?” Her sister rolls towards her with a mumble, and Powder feels hopeful for a moment that she'll get a hug, and maybe then sleep will come again. And then Vi lets out the most horrendous snore and almost smacks her with a flailing arm. Her sister's too far into lala-land, waking her from a sleep this deep is close to impossible. Powder decides to pick up her blanket and huddle back beside Vi, her sister being there would at least make feel safer.

Back in her own bunk, she wraps her blanket around her like a cloak as she hears the noise from the bar quieting down but still present. Biting her lip, she considers another option. If Vander was wrapping up, maybe she could sit with him for a bit, and she could maybe have some sweet milk. Yeah, that'd be ok. Mind made up, she tiptoes up the stairs.

The bar is dimly lit, and half the lights have already been turned off. In one of the booths, three people remain. Hunched over a game of cards.

“What are you doing out of bed?” Vanders voice is hushed, a worry line forming on his forehead.

She climbs up one of the barchairs and fiddles with her hair, the ghost of her dream running its icy fingers up her spine. “Can't sleep.” she mumbles out eventually.

Vander rubs his beard as he takes her in. He must see something because all he does is give a thoughtful hum. “Bad dream?” She nods. “Alright, you can stay for a bit."

She slumps relieved onto the counter. While sleep sounds like the most horrible idea in existence, her body is tired, and staying upright is far too much effort. The mundane noises of card shuffling, a glass clinking and being set down, and Vanders soft off tune humming slowly lulling her back to sleep. Probably as he intended. Maybe it would be ok to close her eyes now.

With a deep breath, Powder relaxes, and it is at that precise moment that moment the door bangs open and she startles. Tumbling, falling from the barstool, the sensation calling back the icy water, reaching up to her. Only there's no cold. She's cradled in warm, large, dark hands, and she sees Vander looking over the bar with a panicked expression.

“Hey there, little one.” It's softly spoken with a warm tone to it. “Now little one, seems you've gone and shifted before you're meant to. No worries, it happens.” The man directs the statement both at her and Vander.

By the open door, a drunken man stands, takes in the sight before him, and with a slured "I really am plastered, can't be right..." stubles back out. Vander lets go of the breath he's been holding and turns towards the patron who broke her fall.

“Thank you, Wyeth.” Vander mumbles, he looks completely stumped, and why is everyone so big? Vander brows practically form a single one with how he’s frowning. It can't be good if he's doing that. Panic starts to take hold of her.

Wyeth chuckles. “It's not unheard of, but it is rare for a kid to shift. She just needs to calm down, and she'll shift back, the magic sometimes hiccups.”

“Hmmm.” Vander doesn't sound convinced. Wyeth carries on. “Inna looked up everything to watch out for when we had our boy. Sometimes, when a kid's dealing with big emotions, the magic sparks, and to keep them safe, they shift.”

Shift? She changed?! Powder starts flailing about her little wings buzzing and tries to shout, but all that comes out are a series of squeaks and peeps. Oh no, oh no! She'd wanted to shift in her dream, and now she has, but she's still too small, utterly useless. Her heart is going the rate of a hummingbird.

“There, there, little one.” The voice of the man holding hervdrops to a hush, and he moves a finger to pet her over the head. It is soothing. The warm hand feels secure. When she's calmed a little, she feels a quick bit of vertigo as she's gently handed over to Vander's hands. She curls up in them, not just secure, but the safety of familiarity as well.

“Cute fluffy little thing you are.” Another chuckle from Wyeth. His gentle demeanour helping her calm down. Breathing steady again, she takes in her situation again. Spirits, everyone's so big. A bird, she's a chick.

She must be cute, though, she concludes, finally calm enough to think again, as the other two have joined at the bar and are practically cooing over her. Vi would have such a giggle at that. Vander turns to her rescuer, with an expression that screams just how out of his depth he feels. “Did your boy ever shift?”

“Nah, the kid’s far too chill. He's about her age, so who knows, though? And he's usually far too busy tinkering.”

Now Vander is looking at her again. “A tinkerer, huh?” Wyeth laughs before speaking.

“You'll probably see him around, Benzo took him in as an apprentice a few weeks ago.” Wyeth looks to Vander and then the others before quickly settling the tab and ushering the others out.

Before he leaves, he tells Vander. “Maybe tell a story? Calms most kids right down.” Powder decides she likes her fall breaker because something to distract her would be nice. She peeps in what she hopes, and it sounds like affirmation. “A story?” Vander still looks as stumped as he was before. “Hmmm, let's get a bit more comfortable first.”

He sets about folding and tucking her blanket into a little nest and places her in it. It's comfy, and she nestles in. Vander quickly locks up and gingerly scoops up the entire nest and heads to his room.

Vanders room is fairly bare, one double bed, plain sheets, two pillows above the bed is a shelf, two books, a bottle of what she knew was better whiskey than what's in the bar. By it was an ornate ashtray and feather attached to a leather band hanging over the edge and gently swaying in the draft of the undercity from the open window.

From her new perch on one of the pillows, Powder tilts her head with an inquisitive squeak. “Ah sorry Pow, I'm no storyteller. Give me a moment to think.” He sits down on the side of the bed and reaches up, stroking the long black oil slick glinting feather. “Sometimes I miss your flair for the dramatics and telling a tale.” He tells it.

“Feathers…” He trails off. “How we got our feathers.” She cheeps happily and loudly for that. It's a good tale of how, despite Piltover's oppression, they have one secret, one freedom those Pilities will never know or have.

“Alright, alright. Message received.” He's looking less worried now as he launches into the tale.

“Once Zaun was called Oshra Va'Zaun the great harbour city, and it prospered. However, with such wealth, there would always be those for whom it would bever be enough. Greed led to tragedy.

For they had the people dig and dig and dig until the ground weakened until the banks of the river could no longer hold until the south city rumbled and sank.”

He looks to Powder to see if she's alright. She ruffles a bit and hopes her message of ‘carry on with it,’ is understood. It luckily is.

“As the waters flooded, many were swept away, the goddess heard the cries. Janna came down in a great gust of wind and pushed the waters back, but many were trapped. The only way out was the sky, and so Janna took the form of a bird in blue light. Abd all who had been trapped in the depths in that moment changed form. Where there were arms, there were wings, where there had been feet there were talons, where there was skin there were feathers. All changed to a bird."

She thinks to herself that her favourite bit is the blue light. There's magic to the colour and she too is blue. She doesn't notice herself changing back, too involved in the story for the moment. She crawles under Vanders arm and onto his lap. “And then? You have to finish the story!” It's said with a petulant pout.

“Yes, well, you're going to have to let me speak then.” He sounds relieved.

“So relieved was Janna that her gift had worked, she left the magic with the people of Zaun. And so angry was she at those who brought such harm they would never know the gift granted to the Zaunites, this boon was ours alone, to fly free to join her on the winds."

As he finishes the tale, Powder lets out a great yawn. She feels sleepy, and it's good sleepy now. She's already half dozing as Vander picks her up with a soft chuckle.

“Off to bed with you."

“Okay…” Another yawn marks the word. And then because she's curious, even through her exhaustion. “What was I?"

“I couldn't tell, but you were very cute. A little powder ball of fluff.” That has her giggling. Vander makes his way quietly to her and Vi's room. The door creaks open softly, and a moment later, she feels her pillow beneath her head, a hand run over her hair and her blanket settle over her.

She nuzzles into her bed, and through sleep-lidded eyes, she sees Vander look thoughtful. “I have some errands tomorrow, I'm dropping by a friend for some supplies. And it seems he has an apprentice now about your age, and he likes to tinker too. Would you like to join me?” That sounds like a nice idea. She nods bearly aware. The last thing she hears before drifting off is Vander whispering “Goodnight, let the good dreams take flight.”

Other The Owl and Crow stories.

[fisheito]

at last....yakumo with CHIKEN

[danieyells]

Acimo unscrambles into Camio, and Camio is depicted as standing on burning coals when answering questions, which I assume is the aspect of it that grants Ritsu his pseudo-invulnerability

And I imagined that when Ritsu made his wish it was something like to be unshakeable and impenetrable. He mostly meant it figuratively but as @ritsu-shinjo puts it, being immune to being punched in the face makes Ritsu very smug.

And I imagined that Camio gave him a trial. Just a little one. Maybe even before he made the wish--Leo said the demons chose them after all, so I can imagine that Camio tested Ritsu before he was ever in a situation where he would be desperate enough to sell his soul for a wish.

Ritsu found himself in some vast void or pit in hell or something. But the only thing of note between him and the bird-demon watching him was a little road of burning coals. And all Camio asked him to do was walk to where he stood across the coals. If it hurt too much or he was too frightened the path was narrow enough that he could go off the side. But if he truly believed himself worthy of the change he desired--if he really wanted to be able to help his father--he need only walk through the coals, for the trials ahead of him in life would be equally difficult, if not moreso. His soul was the only cost. But he would live normally. Should Camio need more of him, such as to use his soul while his body lived on or some such, he would know.

Ritsu, of course, requested this contract in writing. It was provided and signed(Camio 'signed' with one of his little clawed bird feet in red. . .'ink'--unsettling but not all that different from a hanko stamp Ritsu supposed) and Ritsu looked at this coal path and his bare feet(this was definitely a dream because his pajamas had mysteriously disappeared and he felt unbothered by his own nudity) and. He walked. And it burned but he was determined. He was worthy. He wasn't going to back down.

And the coals started to give way and sink a bit. They sank his ankles and they burned the whole of his feet. But he kept walking through them, trying to lift his feet up further to unsink himself. But he sank further, down to his calves. It wasn't too late to turn back and escape--but he refused to show weakness or doubt in himself. He wasn't going to show weakness to some nightmare. He kept walking and sank further--knees thighs hips and finally one step just dropped him wholly into a pit where the coals swallowed him completely.

At first he was terrified--but he realized it. Didn't hurt? It was a little hard to breathe, the fire was swallowing his oxygen, but he wasn't in pain. And if he moved his arms or legs the coals moved out of the way. He felt extremely warm, like burning, but not pain and feom what little he could see of his own hands through the coals he wasn't. Burning at all. His body was fine.

He kept walking in the direction he'd been facing. He felt a wall in front of him and when he pressed his hand against it he felt the coals covering him fall away to the ground around him and he was back in his room, pajamas back where they ought to be, no hellish void and his skin cooling down, the only coal left burning in his own hand with the little demon bird stood atop it.

It sang and for a moment he understood. Congratulatory. "Well done, Coalwalker."

The bird flapped its wings and the coal in his hand turned to the contract they had signed, Camio itself becoming a thick smoke he inhaled with a sharp gasp but didn't feel any need to cough from his lungs.

"Should you need the agreed upon strength again, you need only recite the incantation: Acimo."

"Acimo. . . ." He felt stiff, but not tense. Heavy, but not weighed down by his body. Sliding, and tilting, and-- "aah!"

His mattress slid and tilted sideways off of his bed, depositing him onto the floor with a thump much louder than he was sure was truly necessary, his bedside table sliding along the floor some from his head thumping against it. It didn't hurt despite that he felt his elbow collide with the floor--and when he squinted into the dark, hearing his mother running down the hall towards his room in response to the noise, he was certain he saw a divot in the wood where he'd cracked it on impact. None on the rest of the floor at least, but it seemed the desire to be 'unshakeable' had manifested in an increased density.

"Ritsu! Are you alright!?" His mother called into his room. "I'm coming in, okay?"

"Yes, that's fine--I'm alright. . . ." He wasn't in any pain at all. Not from his elbow in the floor or his head hitting the corner of the table. No pain, no blood, no disorientation beyond what was expected from sliding down suddenly--and the sudden lights from the hall and his room light turning on once his mother had opened the door and run over. She reached out to examine him, worried for his wellbeing. Noted his tension--the stiffness that hardened his body when he recited that incantation--and he reassured her that he was simply tense from suddenly waking up falling down. Something guided him to how he could disable the power and he 'relaxed' with a few deep breaths before his mother could worry over him further, although she still insisted on a quick trip to the emergency room to make sure he hadn't had some sort of seizure or fractured anything in his fall.

They replaced his bedframe and had the floor repaired in the coming weeks.

On the way home from the emergency room with his clean bill of health, his mother pointed out to him how rare and odd it was to see a thrush so far into the city. It tweeted at him, and he knew it was for him though he no longer understood its song, and flew away.

It would be a long time before he found use for the physical power he'd been given, but knowing that he was practically immune to physical pain bolstered his mind. Unshakeable. Impenetrable.

He need only become a fully fledged lawyer--the best lawyer in Japan--and he would absolve his father of the mounting accusations against him. This wish was only a piece in his true wish.

Nothing would get in his way, now that he had walked the coals.

[palaceoftears]

Magnificent Century Rewatch: One Picspam per Episode

Episode 17: The Double Joy

-My dear mother used to say "walk barefoot on earth and it shall take away all your troubles and sorrows, earth shall give you happiness and joy"

-Your mother spoke well, one can only find peace in earth. But I'm not sure if it is on earth or in it.

[youareunbearable]

I always see these posts about Maedhros and Elwing, like yes both leap to their deaths clutching a Silmaril and I adore the foil allegories, but what of Maglor??

My tiktok feed has been playing that one fan Odysseus song, the "get in the water, or ill raise the tides so high all of Ithaca will die" song, and I cant help but just picture Maglor, at the ends of his rope, covered in Ambarussa's blood, the youngest son of Feanor again after spending an untold amount of time being the second oldest, just going still and deadly at Elwing

Hes no Luthien, no half Maia that can pluck at the threads of reality like one can a harp, but he is the best Singer of the Noldor, and depending on who you ask, of all of the First Born. One of the only Sons of Feanor with an affinity for water while the rest burn, but that doesn't mean he can't become a rolling boil.

Once the final breath of Ambarussa escapes their lungs, oh the Scream Maglor will have let go. Just as a drowning person will grasp at anything to keep them afloat, even to the point where they may drown their rescuer just to keep their head above the waves, Maglor’s scream PULLS

All the water surrounding this costal city would Lurch, would rush and flood and crash upon the city walls. The streets, already run red with blood, would become knee deep blood pools. These red rivers would part before him and his echoing dirge, his siren wailing, the bloody waves would lap at his feet with every step he would take up Elwing's tower.

He would corner her, eyes blazing with the same light that she clutches desperately to her chest, to her heart, and Maglor wouldn't care about the Jewel, he's already lost so much to it that if he held it himself he would just toss it into the waves anyways, let it sink to the black depths where it belongs.

No, Maglor would pin her on the balcony, block her exits so all she can see is the blood stained water seeping around his feet, inching towards her, and the furious roar and crash of the raging ocean behind. He would hum, a disarming little song, and the waves seem to surge upwards, reaching towards the tower balcony on beat. The spray of the waves would splatter across her back, would mist Maglor’s face, the salt of the ocean mixing with the salt of his tear stained face. He would look at her, dripping in water and blood, both of his brothers and his enemies, and he would sing one little line, a command more like.

"Get in the water"

[articskele]

IF I HAD A NICKEL EVERYTIME I WANTED TO BE FRIENDS WITH A DUO OF CHARACTERS FROM A HORROR GAME, ONE BEING HUMANOID AND THE OTHER BEING A MONSTER WITH SHARP TEETH-

[thatswhatsushesaid]

sometimes posts like this grind my gears worse than the bad faith takes by the antis because they make me depressed rather than annoyed.

i mean… ok, i guess?? 🤷‍♀️

like i genuinely believe there’s only a handful of characters in the novel who are actually evil, irredeemable assholes, and jgy would not be among their number imo. and it is weird to me that someone can claim to ‘perfectly understand and sympathize with [jgy’s] feelings and decisions,’ and still decide that he’s fundamentally evil and beyond redemption. i don’t think there’s anything in the text that supports this read either, particularly not when we take into consideration jin ling and lan xichen’s respective reactions to having their grieving questioned or ignored.

all that said, there absolutely is a character who is tragically beyond redemption at the end of the novel, and his name is not jin guangyao. it’s nie huaisang.

[dan-crimes]

Weird Al mention

[air-razor]

I will dig my claws into that oversized ball of corruption...

[kurim-chis]

HES SO HANDSOME

Watch the general kiss a finch. He’s so soft and pretty djcjjebxidjv

【《崩坏：星穹铁道》浮光映影：「拂晓之前」-哔哩哔哩】 https://b23.tv/3iemhpx

[crowcryptid]

Heading to Minnesota in 2 weeks to scout it out cause I might be moving there

[outeremissary]

“Happy Valentine’s Day, Balthazar and Tristian!

I hope all is well in the once-Stolen Lands! The hardest part of moving back to Cheliax away from Mendev is the distance between my old diplomatic allies turned friends. On this day of love and friendship, I extend my most cheerful of celebrations to you two! Please take it easy today, the kingdom can afford one day of a break, Balthazar. I promise it’s not going to all fall apart. You’re lucky Tristian has the patience of a saint. 

Hopefully these gifts will give you an excuse to step off the throne for a little bit! The wine and cheese is local to Cheliax. Of course, I don’t know how it compares to what you guys produce over there, but I hope it at least is palatable enough for a date night! I’ve also sent along some books on ancient arcane rituals that might interest you - Regill would’ve insisted they be thoroughly examined for anything dangerous… which technically you can do. We won’t tell him. It’s wrapped in the fashion magazines last I picked up from Absalom - I hope I didn’t bend their pages doing so! I remember you also being really into that sort of stuff.  

I also sent along some balm I found when I was there for feathers. I can’t believe how soft it’s made mine, I really just had to pass it along to you too! I know what a huge pain it is to care for them, especially with your wings. Hopefully you find it useful! I’d love to come visit sometime - if you have any other world ending cataclysms, I’m just a Sending away!

-Warm regards, Minovae!"

My dear Minovae,

Though this letter falls into your lap a touch late for me to properly wish you well for the holiday, I can certainly send my hopes that you spent it pleasantly with that husband of yours. Though duty never takes a holiday, I must say you more than earned the rest. I can only hope you enjoyed a long and indulgent vacation for the holiday. Perhaps at the spas you have told me so much about, or maybe enjoying that evergreen Chelaxian theater scene (though I confess I can’t imagine Regill sitting through an opera without making his displeasure quite known). Tristian sends regards as well, and is with me insisting on knowing what I put down. He has doubts about some of the books, Minovae- you will have to reassure him when next you write.

As for us, you needn’t have worried. The toil of the realm is ceaseless, it’s true, but I do still know how to enjoy myself. Spending a day like that bent over petitions and tax documents… if that ever happens, I’ll be the first calling for revolution. No, we didn’t do even a little work on the date, I’m happy to say. Tristian even came back to bed after dawn prayer- the closest to sleeping in I think we manage. It was a fairly quiet affair this year (no travel or shows this time around), but the time in was well spent. I’m sorry to have missed your gifts on the day! I do miss the cuisine of the Inner Sea- the wine and cheese would have been an excellent addition to the evening. You speak far too modestly of your gifts. It will be a long while before anything as fine emerges here.

At any rate, between the fine southern vintage and the news of Absalom, you’ve awoken something of a nostalgia in me. You’re in danger of playing host rather than visitor if this continues. I only half jest- I’ve been playing with the idea of some “diplomatic tour” as excuse for a while now. But I suspect you can tear yourself away from your post somewhat easier than I, and we would be happy to have you again even sans cataclysm. Here- I’ve sent some things along that might tantalize you. That pendant should be a lovely complement to your eyes- though it’s been some time, I should think I remember their color well enough. It was crafted by one of the artisans near Lake Silverstep, who sought to capture the silver-blue of the mountains not only in the frame for the gem but that thread-thin chain as well. What a lovely coincidence that hue is also counted among your scales! The music box is Pitaxian and is from both of us- there have always been renowned instrument crafters in the city, but what a delight to see the songs themselves captured, yes? And speaking of the region… a lovely Sarain white. I’ve no local cheese to send to pair it with, sadly. At times like this I wish that Jubilost were still here. Much as he could be an insufferable ass, if you could sit through his scoffing at your ignorance there really was no one better at finding the right local complement for any vintage (Tristian wishes you to know he strongly objects to my word choice, though he cedes Jubilost could be “somewhat overbearing”). At any rate, the vintage is citrusy, a touch dry, and pairs well with something salty but mild. If you’re near enough to Westcrown, I’ve also heard it works splendidly with oysters.

Yours truly,

Balthazar and Tristian

P.S. The balm really is a marvel. You’ll have to tell me where you got it, as I’m already sure I’ll mourn its absence when it’s gone.

(author's note: I wrote the tags before the letter and now I'm too scared of them to change them whatever's happening down there is happening)

[kirnet]

Took the day off today bc I can’t drive with this migraine and I am immediately flooded with texts of a baby squirrel emergency at work

[neonacidtrip]

I’m developing a new chart system

[rynan16]

It was a dreary day, as it often was in Gotham. Danny was just returning from the funeral of Jason Todd, his core heavy and head fuzzy. He enters his store, only to see that his time here is up. The 5 years are over, and it’s time to go. Danny falls to the floor, no longer holding back the tears. It feels like his core has cracked from the grief. How can he just leave now, of all times? Won’t he even be allowed time to grej e before they go? A little giggle snaps his mind back to reality. Is head snaps in the direction of the sound, comming from the corner nook that the store always set up for him… for Jason. His core was thrumming with painful hope, and then, his eyes found the source of those light giggles, and Danny’s core soared. There he was! It was little Jason, his Jason, in the corner, sitting in the corner, reading a new book, just like he used to do. Danny couldn’t help himself, he rushed over, grabbing the little Robin in a tight hug, startling the little ghostling.

It’s been a few weeks now, since the store packed up and took them to a new location. Danny was filled with so many mixed emotions the night he found Jason, the night they left. Now having processed his emotions a little more, he’s been thoroughly enjoying telling Jason stories of all the adventures he’s been on, and people he’s met. He’s even gotten to take Jason to his haunt, and show him the library. Seeing the way the little bird’s eye’s lit up at the sight, made Danny’s core thrum with delight. Yes, Jason may have died, but he was safe now. Danny would keep him safe.

The store has been hoping dimensions much more frequently than it used to, only staying in one place for a week or two at a time. Danny’s not sure why, but he’s been enjoying all the adventures he’s been able to go on with Jason, so it doesn’t bother him too much. It’s been a couple months now, and the holidays are comming up soon back home. Maybe he’ll be able to bring Jason with him, he knows that they would absolutely adore Jason. How could they not when he’s so precious, after all?

Something was wrong. Jason was starting to have glitches in his powers. Moments where he would loose his flight and fall back to the floor, or he would get stuck partway through a bookshelf because he became partially tangible. Danny can’t figure out what’s going on, h

no, no, nO, NO, NO…. He’s gone. The only thing remaining being a small shade of a little Robin, that still happily filters around the store. Danny gently holds the little bird in his hands, cradling it close to his core, as he sobs, having once again lost his Jason.

Time moves on. He still misses Jason terribly. Still mourns, still grieves, still looks in the corner, hoping, no expecting, Jason to be there. But time moves on, and eventually, a new normal is established. Danny takes some solace in the small little shade that still happily flits around the store. It’s not the same Jason that he wishes to come back, but… it’s a piece of him, and he takes comfort in that fact. Back when it first happened, he had rushed the little Robin off to Frostbite and explained the situation, hoping that maybe, just maybe, he could help somehow. Frostbite had shaken his head sadly, saying that he had never seen a case like it before, and there was nothing he could do to help. The store moves around less now. Staying in most places for months at a time. Never as long as when they found Jason, but it went back to it’s usual routine. Sometimes Danny wondered if somehow, it had known. The store had stayed just long enough to take Jason with them, down to the exact day, and during his short stay with them, they had gone on more adventures in more places than he had before up to that point. It felt like the store had known, and that it wanted to give Jason as many adventures as it could before he would leave them again.

‘Why am I here again? Why have you brought me back to this dimension? I do not wish to relive these painful memories.’ Danny uncomfortably nuzzles the little Robin perched on his shoulder, an unconscious habit he had picked up when he was particularly missing Jason. He stared wistfully out the door, wishing to see his little ghostling come rushing through the door, but he knew that was impossible. Jason… his Jason, was gone. He was so lost in thought that he didn’t hear the little bell on his door jingle as it opened, didn’t notice the familiar presence entering his store. Then the little Robin perked up, and flitted off his shoulder. Danny quickly reached out to grab it, frantic, not wanting to loose the last piece of Jason he has left, but he is unsuccessful. The little Robin lands on the new person’s shoulder, and gently nuzzles the crook of their neck, chirping happily. That when Danny notices. He looks at the figure, a red hood covers their face, but he can tell. He can feel. This is Jason Todd. Alive and in front of him. His breath hitches in his throat, and his eyes go all misty.

“Whoa, this place was gone when I came back… man, I’ve missed this place.”

He’s back, Jason was home. And this time, Danny was going to do everything within his power too keep it that way. His little ghostling would stay safe, even if the world was ending, nothing would dare lay a finger on his little ghostling anymore.

DCxDP fanfic idea:Vanishing Bookstore

Danny opens a bookstore. Initially, it was his private library, a place tp store all the books he gather from different parts of the glob and different Earths.

Mr. Lancer finally wore him down, causing Danny's love of reading to blossom at the end of his Freshman year. The teacher did so by having him come in person to speak about any kind of book as makeup work, as long as he learned how to dissect what he read and get proper reading comprehension.

Danny found that he could enjoy literature if he wasn't forced to write an essay afterward. But spending lunchtimes with his English teacher arguing about Narina's moral concepts was practically the same as the essay; it was just funnier.

It was the final push he needed to move to the next grade. By the skin of his teeth, but he did it. Mr. Lancer had been so proud of him.

That summer, Danny had been grounded for various weeks due to the ghosts attacks taking him away from his school and chores. Since he wasn't allowed to watch TV, or use the computer Danny had chosen to pick up books from Jazz's young adult fantasy shelves.

He never looked back.

Suddenly, it was like Danny could only go somewhere with something to read. He jumped genres but always fell back to fantasy, escaping into magical worlds between pages. Something about that reminded him of exploring the different worlds within the Infinate Realms, and Danny found himself addicted.

It became his entire identity. Sam was the goth girl, Tucker the tech geek, and Danny the book nerd. His friends and family quickly learned that any gift-giving event was going to lead to a long list of books Danny was waiting to get his grabby little hands on.

Even the classics Mr. Lancer once had to fight him to read were entertaining now that he understood their subtext and inferences that used to go over his head as a kid.

Jazz took him to get his library card which became Danny's most prized possession until high school graduation. Once Danny got his first part-time job- working for Sam's family company but hey if he had a rich friend who was willing to pay him to answer calls who was he to say no?- Danny started buying his own books.

He shopped at local second-hand bookstores, online websites, and chain bookstores and even ventured into the Ghost Zone to see what literature wonders they had to offer. He found that his human money had a far better exchange rate then he was expecting, making it possible to buy a lot more and at cheaper prices in the Zone.

He even found parallel words that sold the same books he was reading. Once, he saw a book he had waited two years to release at a marked-down price because that world had the book out for five years. Danny almost died of joy to find the special edition.

His room, which once had nothing by NASA, was now filled with bookshelve after bookshelve of his treasures. His parents allowed him to expand his little library in the attic once he ran out of room.

Danny had no idea what to do when his parents asked him what he planned to do once he ran out of room there. By that point, he had started to move the older ones into his Haunt in the Ghost zone, amazed that it had shifted into a Libary that rivaled the likes of Libary of Alexandria. He had so many different ones that he could organize by all ten categories of the Dewey Decimal System in his Haunt, making him wonder if he had consumed that much writing in the past four years. (He had. His parents were worried)

Ghosts had even started asking if they could visit his library, and before long, he had opened one of Ghost Zona's first Public libraries. His only charge was that if a new ghost wanted a library card, they had to donate at least three books. His collection grew and grew with each passing day.

Blob ghosts appointed themselves as Danny's librarians, carefully filing his newest additions to his growing delight. Danny now always had something new to read.

He consumed so much that a new title was bestowed onto him. Danny Phantom: Master of Knowledge.

Though that was a rather silly title if you asked Danny, he enjoyed a good read whenever he was awake. Just because he learned while reading didn't mean he was the master of it. However, he did gain a massive patchwork of knowledge that he could usually apply anywhere, making people assume he was all-knowing.

That did not solve the problem of getting too many books, and often, he found copies of the same ones added to his shelves again and again. His blob ghosts didn't think to reject copies because then ghosts couldn't visit his haunt and would be denied books.

Danny would never deny anyone books. He just had to figure out what to do with the copies and old books he was no longer interested in.

Jazz told him to try and have a yard sale of the ones he no longer wanted, and seeing as there were some series he could go without, Danny gave it a shot.

He made a surprising amount of money, but it was far from the amount he had spent to purchase them. Still, watching people get excited as they walk away with bags of books more than made up for it. After his third yard sale, Danny made up his mind.

He would attach a bookstore to his Haunt.

He wasn't sure how since his library had built itself. It seemed unwilling to add on to it that it was a slightly different business. His haunt only expanded to accommodate the library that he was building there. It took reading five rare books that Clockwork had gifted him to find what was once lost knowledge.

Haunt Manipulation.

It was risky, but Danny created the Infinite Realms Bookstore with enough concentration, some runes, a dash of overly powerful ectoplasm, and some of his core bits. He chose to run this one because the blobs seemed frightened of hackling with customers, and frankly, seeing people be happy was a different kind of rush.

Things were fine for a few years. He didn't need to work now that he had a steady cash flow—though sometimes he had to find someone willing to trade for US Earth 23-19 dollars. He was his own boss with his books to read, his body not needing sleep or food while in the zone, and his ability to lose himself in between pages whenever he wanted.

Then, his bookstore fell off his haunt. It was like an apple falling from a tree- it grew too heavy for the Haunt to handle- flinging Danny into a nearby Earth portal. Luckily, he could get back to the Zone with the spell he placed on his backdoor, and his haunt was in the same place as it always was.

It turns out that Haunt Manipulation is no longer an extended practice because it cannot anchor anywhere. It vanishes and reappears randomly, lingering for a few months. Danny finds that the last haunt like this is now named the House of Mysteries.

At first, Danny was really annoyed by this, until he realized that he could once again walk among humans and spread his library to different worlds. He especially loved it when he appeared in areas where he could teach people to read.

Something about introducing people to his obsession was almost as fulfilling as his obsession itself.

He became a strange but wise man in some worlds and a god of knowledge in others. Danny was having the time of his life, flinging between timelines, exploring dimensions, and still being able to port back to his regular Haunt that connected him to his home.

He saw his parents every Thanksgiving and Christmas. He was able to be the Best man at Jazz's wedding, saw Tucker become the head of his own tech company, and was one of the first to meet Sam's girlfriend between his exploring.

Infinite Realms Bookstore's newest location was on an intriguing Earth behind Danny's home world regarding technology. It was a crime-infested city with far too many problems for its own good. His bookstore also chooses to plant itself right smack in the middle of the worst part of town.

On the far back wall, in the elegant letter, it read "Five years," meaning Danny and the bookstore would be here for five years before it vanished. Strangely, it was the longest time that it had lingered in one place.

Danny suspected that Infinite Realms Bookstore was starting to develop a mind of its own. His books were organizing themselves overnight now, and he was sure he never saw any blob ghosts about.

That did not stop him from happily opening his doors to Crime Alley anyway. The morning of his first day in Gotham, while sipping some coffee- he forgot how good it tasted!- a young boy wandered in.

He was obviously looking for an escape, so Danny willed some chairs and tables to appear in the far back. A complimentary snack section appeared a few seconds later, and there was a "Feel free to read anything off the shelves" sign.

The kid's eyes widened when he spotted them before he hastily raced toward the classics and selected two large volumes. He planted himself at one of the tables surrounded by drinks and cookies and didn't move for hours.

Danny left him to it, choosing to close when the kid left. It was tweleve long hours but worth it to see the glee on the tiny litte face as he flipped through pages.

The next day, he came back, and the one after that. Before long, Danny had his first regular.

That regular is a young boy named Jason Todd.

Jason reminded Danny of himself when he first got into reading, which led to him making a deal with the young boy. He would let Jason bring books to trade, allowing the boy to take home whatever he wanted in exchange. This meant Danny could get books from this new dimension and Jason didn't have to worry about finaces.

There was a time where Danny was pretty sure Jason was just reselling him back his own books. But seeing as Jason looked more and more like he was having a hard time finding a good meal, Danny pretended not to notice.

This is similar to when his bookstore developed free showers for him to use only when he was about or private reading rooms with a warm bed. Jason early took advantage of these, unaware that they vanished from view to all other customers once he stepped inside.

Sometimes, he falls asleep and spends the night inside those private reading rooms when Danny "forgets" to walk through the store before closing.

Everyone else paid because they didn't make Danny's core sing like Jason. It was easy to tell when the boy became Robin, as he found the vigilante pulling Batman to his window and pointing out books. The moment that mask little face pressed against his glass, Danny knew who it was.

Just as he knew the next day when, Bruce Wayne opened his door to buy everything that Robin had wanted. Danny kept that to himself, though. He figured it would be funnier if they thought they were sneaky.

Maybe this place would be his finest location yet.

[succubusvalentine]

Simon Riley becoming obsessed with you after a one night stand. CW : brief mentions of pussy eating, stalking, brief mentions of masturbation and hookups.

You had a great night with the brute you took home from the bar. He could throw you around and manhandle you, not to mention he was hung like a horse and actually knew where the clit was.

But that was that. You exchanged few words the following morning, and he left.

But you wouldn't leave his head. Every night Simon tried replicating your tight cunt with his hand. He remembered your moans and whines under him. How sweet and pathetic you cried.

And then Simon started spiralling. He started trying to find women on porn sites that resembled you, he started going to bars and sleeping with women who resembled you. And yet none of them could replicate what he had felt with you.

Simon got sick of it. He wanted needed you. So, he did the only rational thing.

He stalked you.

Simon ended up finding you easily. You were such an oblivious and stupid girl.

He stalked you for weeks. Until he cornered you in a bar and you recognised him. Taking him to your home once more.

Simon was desperate once you entered your apartment. His big hands pawing at your thighs and ass as he led you back to your bedroom. Your horny brain not taking a second to realise he shouldn't know the way to your bedroom based off of one hookup two months ago.

Simon slobbered at your pussy for almost an hour to make this night last. He wanted to ruin you for anyone else. And judging from your screams he was definitely doing a good job.

The following morning you expected Simon to be gone. But his muscular arms were tight around your waist. Holding you against him.

"Never letting you go again, bird"

⛧°. ⋆𓌹♰𓌺⋆. °⛧