#if he tries to live on open-eyes sleep for too long he'll just pass out from exhaustion

[sesamenom]

Headcanon: there are separate types of sleep for 'doing something, but tired' and 'sleeping in a bed'.

the former is used for situations like 'waiting for furnace to heat up after being awake for three weeks straight' or 'there are orcs nearby and i do not have a roof', where it's closer to very restful meditation that can be conducted while doing a simple or repetitive task (walking, eating, painting a wall, keeping an eye on the oven, keeping an eye out for orcs directly in front of oneself). this form of sleep is the eyes-open one (kind of like dolphin alertness), since it's almost exclusively used in situations where the elf in question is also using their eyes. Legolas used this sleep mode while walking as well as at night, giving everyone else the impression that he has endless energy when in actuality he was just napping half the time.

the latter is used for situations like 'got home after a week of travel and just want to crash in bed', 'cozy blankets on a rainy day', or 'passed out drunk while a tiny invisible burglar steals your keys' which is closer to human sleep, with closed eyes and no extra activities. It's a bit more restful and has far less risk of getting randomly startled awake as compared to open-eyed sleep, as well as being much easier to maintain when there is a lot of direct light (Treelight, silmaril-light, Losgarlight, etc). most elves prefer this one when they aren't doing anything important, or as a break after month-long crafting sprints.

There is also a secret third type of sleep: Dead.

(Context below poll)

In The Two Towers, Tolkien makes a big deal out of Legolas not needing much rest and how he sleeps with his eyes open "in the way of the elves." However, in the Silm and the Hobbit elves absolutely seem to sleep "normally" (including snoring!) whenever convenient for the plot. So what gives?

Assorted quotes about sleeping beneath the cut.

From The Two Towers:

Only Legolas still stepped as lightly as ever, his feet hardly seeming to press the grass, leaving no footprints as he passed; but in the waybread of the Elves he found all the sustenance that he needed, and he could sleep, if sleep it could be called by Men, resting his mind in the strange paths of elvish dreams, even as he walked open-eyed in the light of this world.

With that [Aragorn] fell asleep. Legolas already lay motionless, his fair hands folded upon his breast, his eyes unclosed, blending living night and deep dream, as is the way with Elves. Gimli sat hunched by the fire, running his thumb thoughtfully along the edge of his axe. The tree rustled. There was no other sound.

Gandalf is a maia, not an elf, but he doesn't quite close his eyes in sleep either. Also from The Two Towers:

Driven by some impulse that he did not understand, Pippin walked softly to where Gandalf lay. He looked down at him. The wizard seemed asleep, but with lids not fully closed: there was a glitter of eyes under his long lashes.

From The Hobbit:

So following the hobbit, down into the lowest cellars they crept. They passed a door through which the chief guard and the butler could be seen still happily snoring with smiles upon their faces. The wine of Dorwinion brings deep and pleasant dreams.

From The Silmarillion:

And when again thirty years had passed, Turgon son of Fingolfin left Nevrast where he dwelt and sought out Finrod his friend upon the island of Tol Sirion, and they journeyed southward along the river, being weary for a while of the northern mountains; and as they journeyed night came upon them beyond the Meres of Twilight beside the waters of Sirion, and they slept upon his banks beneath the summer stars. But Ulmo coming up the river laid a deep sleep upon them and heavy dreams; and the trouble of the dreams remained after they awoke, but neither said aught to the other, for their memory was not clear, and each believed that Ulmo had sent a message to him alone.

[nrdmssgs]

Reacting to the reader, accidentally falling asleep on them. (Soap, Alex, König)

Masterlist

Part 2 (Price, Ghost, Gaz)

This is pure fluff. Platonic and romantic. Please, try to sleep enough, guys.

Johnny Soap MacTavish

Platonic

Let's just hope, every inch of your skin is securely covered with cloth. You've just asked why? Oh, you aren't prepared, are you, poor thing?

Too bad. Because Johnny can be infinitely proud of the fact that only next to him, you relax so much that you allow yourself to fall asleep on his lap. But he'll never turn down an opportunity to prank you.

Soap doesn't mind that he only has one arm free - you use the other as an extra pillow. He opens the marker with his teeth.

Following Johnny's gaze, Ghost hides his hands behind his back.

"Lieutenant, please! I need my references!" "I'm not taking part in this nonsense, MacTavish." "But she loves your sleeve! Why not let her wear the same one for a few days?" "A few days? Don't tell me, you're using a permanent one! And since when I have a dead rat as a part of my sleeve?" "It's not a rat, this is a skull. Ever heard of an artistic interpretation?"

Romantic

His hand embraces you the very next second, he notices, you're asleep.

Doesn't give a damn, if anyone sees you two like that. In fact, he would very much appreciate, if everyone seen, how safe and happy he makes you feel.

He will quietly murmur you lullabies that he heard as a child. If you ardently wake up and ask him, what are they about, he would apologize and confess that they are in Gaelic, and he barely speaks it.

"Oh, that's ok, don't be sorry. Could you, maybe, sing a bit more to me?" "Aye, bonnie. Now close your eyes."

Will bury his face in your hair and rub his cheek against the top of your head, while humming quietly, slowly losing himself in your heavenly scent.

Alex Keller

Platonic

Surprisingly calm about it. He will not wake you up or whisk you away from his shoulder. He won't even think about commenting on what happened when you wake up.

Alex knows perfectly well what it's like to carve out every free minute on deployment to have a little rest between missions.

He is grateful, that you were on the same team - he could not wish for a better partner than you. Therefore, he is ready to help you not only on the battlefield. If you are tired and want to take a nap, he will lend a shoulder.

If this happened in transport, Alex will cradle you so that you do not hit the back of your head against the wall at a sharp turn.

May once make you 'return the favor' passing out on your shoulder. He does not lean on you completely, plus he has the fluffiest, softest hair out there, so don't worry, it will feel nice.

Romantic

Have you ever seen a light bulb the size of a grown man turning on in a room? Because that's what Alex looks like when you don't answer his question because you accidentally fell asleep on his shoulder.

He dreamt to be your safe place, to make you feel protected, taken care of. And you've just convinced him, that he actually succeeded.

Can't help but smile, hugging you with all care and fondness, he is capable of.

If someone approaches him with a question, while you are still sleeping, he will put his finger to his lips, making it clear to this person, that now is not the best moment.

If you wake up and ask him, how long did you nap, Alex will always answer, 'oh, you've just closed your eyes a few minutes ago'. Even if you fell asleep more than an hour before.

Please, just let him stay like that with you for a little longer. These are the moments, he lives for: you in his hands, in peace, loved and loving.

König

Platonic

Oh no, this poor soul, he is completely lost. He doesn't feel, if his verbal interactions are graceful enough, and you've just accidentally initiated a prolonged touch.

His pulse is higher than Austrian mountains, as he tries to sit still and mimic the wall or couch under your head.

He hides his eyes when someone passes by you, tries to pretend that this is how it should be, thanks all the gods for not taking off his veil immediately after returning from the mission so no one sees the blush stretching from his cheeks to his neck.

"Horangi... Pssst, Horangi! W-what should I do?" "Ehm, enjoy a peaceful moment with fellow soldier? You guys look cute like that." "Wait, don't leave me here! This whole situation might be inappropriate... You must help me now! Do something!!" "You want me to wake her up?" "Yes! Wait, no! What if waking her up is actually inappropriate?"

König will sincerely want to apologize to you. He does not yet know what exactly, but he certainly did something wrong. He will suffer and spin in bed half the night, formulating a socially acceptable apology, and finally fall asleep, satisfied with the phrase he composed.

He'll come up to you in the morning, only to realize with horror that he forgot the exact wording of the apology. Therefore, he will honor you with a short nod, turn around and go in the opposite direction.

Romantic

König pretends he's asleep too. It is ok to not move, since he is asleep, yes? It is enough of an excuse to hold you in a tight embrace, since he's doing it unconsciously, is it?

It doesn't even matter, if everybody around knows what exactly is happening between you two - he still believes, he needs an excuse to touch you, even to be around you.

Due to his size, König can simply hide you in his arms. Can and will. You are after all his treasure.

He discreetly lifts his veil up just to take your hand and press a quick kiss against your knuckles. He enjoys the opportunity to touch you like that from time to time when others are not looking.

But if someone decides to interrupt this heaven - they better be prepared for the coldest, most menacing death glare. Because König won't let anyone disturb his Schatzis` moment of peace.

[gnabnahck]

FORBIDDEN LOVE

prologue :

Once upon a time, long live a teenage boy who has struggled on his own life, he was born in a very strict family. Bangchan was not allowed to go outside or even play with any of his friends, he can only stay at his home and study. He has always been curious on what's outside the world, he would love to explore only if he's allowed. His family lives near a shore.

One day, when Bangchan is peeking through the gaps of the window, he saw a mysterious figure far away from the ocean, sitting on a huge rock. He didn't know what the figure was, since it was too far and he couldn't see clearly. Bangchan tried to ignore it but something just distracts him and lead him into staring at the figure for a long time. Suddenly, the figure splashed into the water, the mysterious appearance dissapeared within a blink of his eye.

notes : HII, this is my first ever fanfic, I really hope any of you enjoy it! My grammar is still decent, so tell me if I did any mistake <3 also this is about bangchan falling in love with a mermaid! there's no nsfw, just fluff, also if u want to, please give me ideas and tips so I can improve on the next fanfic

genre : fantasy, fluff, a slight romance, tiny bit angst and that's all I guess so..

PLEASE REMEMBER THAT ALL OF THIS IS FANFICTION AND IT'S ALL FAKE !

Days has passed since the mysterious figure has disappeared, Bangchan was still very confused, he was interested about it. He wanted to see the figure from a short distance. But he still tried to get his mind off it. And continue studying as usual.

The sun has casted, the sky shows an beautiful orange mixed red hue. He should stop studying and prepare himself to sleep, so he decided to take a bath. After he took a bath, and changed into his pajama's, he wanted to eat. Bangchan left his room to get some food that was made by his mother, as soon as he took a step to the kitchen, turns out his parents were not home yet. Weird, because around this time, his parents should be home now. They didn't even leave a note for him. But he didn't mind, so he'll just cook a dinner for himself, he opened the fridge to get some food, he can cook after all.

Bangchan grabbed the ingredients that was needed and placed them to the counter table, while trying to regulate the temperature of the fire on the stove, he accidentally burned his finger, it was odd because, how did the fire reached near his hand? Oh well. He continued to cook for his dinner, otherwise he'll starve and his mother would get really furious about it.

He finally finished cooking and the food is ready. He took a seat and grabbed the spoon. Bangchan took a big bite and smiles to himself, he was proud at his own cooking. He finished his food within a few minutes, he was really hungry. Then he grabbed the plate and cleaned it before placing it at the plate storage rack.

Bangchan walked out of the kitchen to go back to his room and sleep, as soon as he plopped into his bed, he stared at the ceiling. The mysterious figure came back to his mind. He was determined to find it. But it's already late night, he needs to go to sleep. He tried to close his eyes shut, it was hard. He can't fell asleep, so he stood up from his bed and grabbed a jacket for him to wear. Then he left his room again, this time quitely. He was scared, if he got caught when his parents came back home, he's dead for sure. But they didn't came home yet, so he still have some time to sneak out. He quickly puts his shoes on and opened the front door slowly, before leaving the house.

He took a step outside, the cold freezing air hitted his body, making him shiver slightly. He walked his way near to the shore, turns out there was nothing, no appearance or something like that at all. Just the sound of the waves moving. He looked down, seeing his own reflection at the water.

Suddenly, a hand appears and pulled Bangchan, causing him to fall into the water. He tried to scream but he's already drowning. His heart race fast because of the panic, Bangchan tried to swim out and reach the surface, but the grip of the hands were too strong for him. He kicked the hands with his feet but it just won't let go, leading him to go deeper to the ocean. Making him slowly lose conscious, he didn't know what to do. Thinking that this might be the end of his life.

He fell unconscious, he couldn't breath any more. His body movement stopped.

Few hours has passed, he's still unconscious, but then something woke him up, Bangchan coughed painfully because of the sea water. His eyes blurry. He saw someone infront of him, but they dissapeared after a second. He pants heavily after the cough, taking a deep breath before he sat up. He looks at his hands, sighing in relief because nothing had happened to him.

Bangchan glanced to the sky, turns out it was day time already. He gasped and stood up quickly, his pajama was wet and his jacket was nowhere to be found. He ran as fast as he can because he would be dead for going outside without his parents knowing.

He is finally reached to his home, before opening the door slowly, sweating slightly because he was nervous of getting caught. It looks like his parents are home.

His mom ran to him and slapped Bangchan harshly. Making his cheek bright red, his eyes widened at the sudden slap. Knowing that he's going to be punished any time.

"Bahng Christopher! Where have you been?" His mother yelled loudly, so loud that the whole household can hear.

He flinched at her outburst and rubbed his hand slightly because of how nervous he is.

"I'm sorry mother.. I left the house without consent." He looks down, couldn't even stare at her eyes. He was afraid.

"I already told you to never go outside!" She continues to yell, her tone rising up higher. He knew he wasn't allowed to go out, but he still did. Bangchan's eyes were full of regret now. Realizing his mistake and he thinks that he deserved this.

"If you're going out again, I'll lock you in your room for weeks. Never disobey, don't even be a disgrace to our family." His mother glazed at him before leaving him alone all by himself. She didn't even gave Chan to explain about what happened. She didn't give a fuck at all.

Bangchan walked to his room sadly. He leans to the door, his body sliding down slowly. The floor was slightly wet because of his clothes. He looks up and let's out a deep sigh. He regretted on letting his impulsive thoughts win, which was investigating the figure he couldnt get his mind off.

END

YAYAYAYAY PART 1 IS FINALLY DONE!! honestly im so so so proud of this fanfic and I hope you do too! this took me only 24 hour because I had exams and I gotta study 🥹 this is the part 1 so there would be other parts of course! I appreciate you if you like and reblog to show some support! The only idea that I got was mermaid y/n x channie LMAO, if u have some ideas for new fanfics please share! Anyways thank you for reading and I hope you have a good day, stay hydrated and eat well !! I'm sorry if I had bad grammars, I promise I'll improve! Also I'm sorry if this part was too short, I'll make it longer on the next part 💔

[riddles-fiddles]

Help! Rook is in my backyard!!

Geez sorry my bad I didn't think he would be able to escape the basement. Anyway this gave me an idea for a short yandere Rook fic

Synopsis: it's not your mind playing tricks on you. Characters: Rook Hunt Tags: yandere, dark themes, drugging, stalking, Rook being a creep Notes: gender neutral reader

•·.·''·.·•ˏˋ°••·.·''·.·•ˏˋ°••·.·''·.·•ˏˋ°•*⁀➷

You can't tell with precision when it all started, but you do remember a lingering sense of uneasiness keeping you up your toes from the first day of the new semester. You were just sitting down by the cafeteria, sharing breakfast with Ace and Deuce and everything looked nothing out of the ordinary; the room was filled with vibrant chatter and the tantalizing smell of fresh scrambled eggs. Your friends seemed oblivious, too deep in conversation to notice the way you uncomfortably shifted on your seat, hairs standing on end.

You felt watched, predatory eyes scanning over your spine. Slowly, you turn to face the crowd, trying to make sense of someone that might have been staring for too long, but you find nothing. Everyone around looked equally emerged on their own interests, so you decided to rush on your meal, urgency rushing through you to get out of the cafeteria as soon as possible.

You can feel the ghost of those eyes when you are at class, but everytime you tried to peek, be it over your shoulder or looking through the mirror of your phone, nothing seemed out of place, no one was looking directly into you. By the extending days of this strange event, you try to reason with the fact you're apparently growing paranoid.

After some time, things cool down and the innerving feeling dies out. You grow strangely tired through the passing weeks, and you can't quite grasp what might be causing it; you have tried to sleep earlier, eat better and even sought medical help from the school's nurses, just for your blood tests to come out fine and healthy. Truly, your mind is just so constantly hazy that you don't even notice how the food you have been cooking tastes strangely more appetizing - actually, when was the last time you cooked? You can't remember, but you're too tired to try and think things through, so you just finish your soup and leave it by the sink.

When you reach your bed, you simply fall between the comfy sheets and slumber hits you almost instantly. Your body is heavy and you can't fight the closing of your eyes; a gloved hand reaches for the half open window, but you're already too drunk on your exhaustion to make sense of that vision, so when you wake up, you just assume it was a dream, a very weird one by that - hands reaching for your windows and a faceless figure hovering you with twisted devotion. Maybe you're not as over the mysterious creep from last week as you thought.

Small gifts seem to appear from nowhere on your bedside table, on the counter, or anywhere you can easily spot them - chocolate, roses, and small letters. You don't want to feed the growing sense of fear and vulnerability within you, knowing you're practically living alone, and the prospect of having a stalker was... not something you wanted to deal with - so you settle with the idea that Ace and Deuce are the ones leaving heartfelt gifts while you're away.

Rook revels on your oblivious innocence, watching from the shadows as you go about your day. What you don't know, though, is that Rook is an avid hunter, and that he has living with you ever since that night where he climbed over your window - such a romantic display of affection! Just like the fairytales of forbidden love he had grown with. He's fidgety, quietly listening to the lulling sound of your breath, aching for the night he'll be able to lay down beside you and hug you tightly, but for now, he can satisfy his most romantic urges by watching your sleep with almost unblinking eyes, etching to memory the way your chest flutters in a peaceful slumber.

He'll make sure that you're the most happy with small actions of service, cooking you nice meals with his tranquilizer formula - just to help you sleep better, of course! He wouldn't even dream of doing something innapropriate to his precious trickster! - and then cleaning all the mess you leave behind.

Rook hopes that someday you'll learn about his quirky advances, yearning for the day you'll appreciate him and reciprocate his deep, undying love for you.

[shadedheart138]

Too Much Thinking Is Bad For My Health (Part Two)

Several hours had passed, and Wars hadn't woken. If anything, he'd gotten worse. Wind and Time refused to leave his side, Wind holding one of his hands and Time constantly checking and rechecking him over. Wind's sobs had long been quieted, but his eyes were red-rimmed and still teary.

Wars' breathing had stayed painfully shallow and he'd barely moved once. Hyrule had tried his magic, hoping to ease at least some of his brother's pain, but it hadn't touched the agony. Legend had pulled him back with a tired, remorseful expression on his face.

Four was curled up against Wild, still shaking and talking to themself. Their colors refused to be quiet. Twilight had taken to pacing, while Sky just watched with fear.

"Are ya sure 's hemlock?" Twilight asked, for the upteenth time.

"Yes, Twilight. It's hemlock." Time said quietly.

"Are you-" "Hush." Legend snapped. "We're worried enough as is, we don't need you pacing and fretting and driving us up the fucking walls. Sit down."

Twilight wrung his wrists and frowned deeply, before sitting down near Sky. He seemed ready to leap up at any given second, but at least he was sitting.

There was no known antidote for hemlock. At all. Even the tiniest amounts were fatal. Potions didn't touch it, no amount of Hyrule's healing magic was able to help, and even the fairy that brought him back didn't treat it.

They could only hope he didn't die again. They only had three fairies amongst them all.

XXX

That hope was short lived, and before the end of the night, they were down to two fairies. It was Time who was up and pacing now, just as frantic as Twilight had been. Wind had been corralled to sleep near Four and Sky, held tight to try and keep him soothed.

"Are there any Fairy Fountains nearby?" Time asked Twilight, voice wavering and cracking in the middle. He was grasping at straws, trying to find some sort of way to keep his brother alive and make him better.

He refused to lose Warriors.

"Not that I can recall. But we can always go lookin'. There ain't many that I can actually think of."

"Fuck." Time whispered under his breath, crouching to run his hand over Warriors' forehead, feeling the still-climbing fever. They really shouldn't move him. He was frail enough as it were.

"Do you have a map, by any chance?" Time's voice was even quieter, now that he was closer to Warriors.

"No. Usually didn't need one, anyhow. If we weren't so far from Ordon, I'd say we take him to th' spring. But that's about a day's walk, at our normal pace, from here. It would take more time than I reckon he has."

It would. In maybe six, seven hours, Warriors had needed two fairies. He was barely hanging on. They only had two left, so maybe they had about seven hours, eight if they pushed it, to get to the spring before they were out of them. But the spring was the only chance they had.

No one in camp was really asleep. It didn't take long for Time to have them up and aware.

"Let's pack up camp. Sitting here, waiting, none of it is going to do Warriors any good. He'll only get worse. Hyrule, Wild, while camp's being broken, can you go looking for fairies? If we're going to get to Ordon in any reasonable time at all, we're going to need more than just two."

Wild and Hyrule went off into the woods, for once without the intent of play or exploring.

Time settled down near Warriors, and started packing up his brother's things. A notebook, his pens. Time folded his scarf neatly, hands trembling. How many times had he himself been wrapped in it, when he'd had one nightmare too many, or was too sick to get out of bed? No matter how bitter he was, during the war, he'd loved this scarf almost as much as the owner of it. It was a comfort, even now, as Time ran his hands over it.

Time opened Warriors' bag a little more to fit the scarf, not wanting it to get ruined. There really was no other place for it, other than someone's hands or Warriors' neck. The bag was crammed full of things, and even though there was so much, it was neat and tidy.

Time pulled out a book, hoping taking it and putting it somewhere else would make room for the scarf. He caught a glimpse of the cover.

Old and worn, this was the book that Warriors had used to teach both Wind and Time how to read and write.

Time's eyes immediately teared, and he held it with a gentle grip. Why did Wars still have this old thing? At the bottom, in Warriors' scraggly handwriting - not neat like he would for war papers - were the words "The Good Ones".

Good what, exactly? Time opened the book, seeing the simple, childish shapes and letters. He smiled, and turned to a dog-eared page.

Oh.

So this was what he meant by the good ones.

The good memories, of the war. There were pages taped over pages and scribbles and drawings. Many of them were Time's own, when he'd barely known how to hold a pencil. Some of them were Wind's, when he was older, of Wars, of Mask, of the seagulls and the flowers and the things that reminded him of family. Of home. Some of them were Warriors', of a sleeping Mask and Wind, of Proxi, of Artemis. Pages of Wind learning how to spell. Pages of Mask learning how to draw a cat that didn't look like triangles.

Time didn't realize he was crying until a tear dropped onto a lovingly laminated page. He gently wiped it, then his own eyes. He tucked the book back where it belonged, in Warriors' pack. The scarf could be held. It didn't need to get shoved in here, unorganizing things Warriors clearly had in certain places. Time got up, zipping up the pack.

Time made his way over to Wind, who was folding up his bedroll.

"Here. Can you hold onto this?" Time asked, holding out the scarf. Wind's eyes widened. "Are you sure? I- I don't-" "It won't fit in his bag, and I won't have the hands to carry it. Please."

Wind took it in shaking hands and just sort of looked at it. He hadn't lived the war yet. This version of him was still fourteen, hadn't seen everything that he and Mask could get up to. Hadn't seen Warriors two years before now, commanding an army. But he'd naturally gravitated towards Warriors. It wasn't hard to see who had won his favor first.

Wind carefully wrapped the scarf around his neck, having to do it three times more so that it didn't touch the ground. "Thank you." He said quietly.

Time had already made his way back to Warriors. It hurt to see just how thin and weak Warriors had gotten. How had Time not noticed? How did he let it get this bad?

Time carefully helped Warriors out of his bedroll, and moved him to lean against a tree. He was so out of it, he almost looked like a doll. Limp and fragile. Time packed up the bedroll quickly, then scooped Warriors up gently, like a child. Warriors' head was easily pillowed against Time's chest, and he seemed to cling to the cold, hard armor.

He held Warriors while everyone waited for Wild and Hyrule to return. It didn't take long, maybe four more minutes. Wild's face was muddy and Hyrule's hands were scraped.

"We didn't find many. They gave us a run for our rupees trying to catch them. We only got three." Hyrule's voice was slightly breathless.

Five fairies total. Maybe fifteen hours to get Wars to the spring, if his cycle of decline stayed the same. Time nodded. "You did what you could. Keep them close. Let's be off."

XXX

Warriors' cycle of decline did seem to stay consistent, even three hours later. One more fairy down. Twilight was heavily skeptical about reaching Ordon in time. Even with the brisk pace they'd set, it was hard to keep it.

There was no warning when Warriors started to seize, jolting Time out of the half-aware state he'd been in. It had been a frantic rush to get him on his side and stay near him, fairies at the ready if they were needed.

That was thirty minutes ago. Currently, they were surrounded.

Wolfos, and lots of them. Not to mention the lizalfos. Legend tossed Twilight one of his fire rods, and drew his sword. Hyrule stayed near Time, ready to heal. He'd never been a fighter. He would, if needed. But he would heal, before he fought. Time gritted his teeth.

They didn't have the time for this. Wild climbed a tree and readied his bow, and started letting ice arrows fly. Wind was fighting, Sky was fighting, Four was fighting, they were all around, getting rid of the enemies.

Time was standing there, doing nothing.

Time gently set Warriors down near Hyrule, but before he could take his hands away, Twilight put a hand on his shoulder. "Let's go. Pick him back up, we can't afford to fight here. Th' others'll stay back and fight them off. We've gotta get him to th' spring." Time looked at his boys, his brothers. He didn't want to leave them to their own devices, what if they needed him? A shiver wracked Warriors' body, making Time look down. This brother needed him more than the others did.

"Alright. Let's go." Time whispered. He scooped Warriors back up, and with Twilight at his side, they bolted from the battlefield.

XXX

One fairy. They had one more left and they were several hours away from the spring. Running for so long was making Twilight wheeze, and Time had reluctantly made them take a break. Chest heaving, Time put his head in his hands and cried. They wouldn't make it to the spring in time, he just knew it. No matter how they rushed and ran, they wouldn't make it.

Time had failed.

Worst of all, he'd failed his brother. Someone who took care of him, who loved him, who taught him that all life was to be cherished. And Time couldn't even repay him the same favor. Warriors would be dead, by the next sunrise. Time would never hear his laugh, his teases, his advice, his comforting voice ever again. Time would never be able to forgive himself.

Twilight looked down at his hands. Eight hours, that's all they needed. They only had about three. They wouldn't make it. No amount of praying to Hylia to save Warriors would help. They just wouldn't make it.

Time had himself convinced of that fact, when Twilight scooped Warriors back up. He'd given up. They'd never reach the spring in time. He kept chasing his thoughts in circles, while Twilight watched him. What were they going to do? XXX

holy shit the people who reblogged this, that messaged me, that read this, holy shit. You guys are amazing! This part two is for all you guys because WOW. I didn't think it'd be received with so much enthusiasm! But guess what? I'm gonna have to make a part three >:)

@rrainydaydreams, @rebornofstars I thought you guys would like to know :)

[sunnyfoxsstuff]

Hey sorry couldnt write Yesterday but im writing today the very first chapter! I thought about it way too much lol

Enjoy ;3

Chapter 1:New beginning

After the event at the black water manor and being stripped from his divinity the former wind master has tried his best to get around and survive, xie lian had offered him to stay at puqi shrine 'til he gets back on his feets he had agreed but he only stayed for a day or two he was more fearing hua cheng than living outside, however xie lian adviced him to try and go see at the royal capital knowing there is some beggar's living there he thought that he'll find refuge over there

The former windmaster of course took the advice and went over to the royal capital however he took atleast two good days to get there because of his injuries he was limping and slow

After getting to the capital he found some beggar's just as xie lian had told him they got along pretty well shi qingxuan had always a talent to get along with anyone he'd meet, a day After he started feeling nauseous he tried to ignore it but soon his body made him know that he was gettin too weak to even move, often he would just lay down Somewhere and sleep it was all he could do after all, the beggar's had a kind heart and couldnt bear leaving him on his own so they tried their best at helping them.

It was a morning when shi qingxuan woke up in the halley way he had fallen asleep at he looked around still weak and Saw his beggar friend's still asleep

he looked at the Sky above his head and closed his eyes shut again opening them soon after he somehow felt more..light felt better like as if he wasnt ill anymore

Looking down where his hands are supposed to be he couldnt see them but he could see his beggar friend's waking up,

He ran up to them excited and happy "guy's look! Look! I Can walk! I Can move im feeling better!!" However they walked passed him to where he was sleeping, confused he followed them, soon enough one of them started to cry another pray for some god's and the other one just went on his way to try and find their breakfast,

when the former windmaster took a look at what was going on he gasped almost all of his air out of his lung's and felt nauseous seeing his own body laying there lifeless and gettin more pale.

The now soul of shi qingxuan stood there watching his own body for what felt like minute's but had been atleast 3 hour's

until he'd look at his right side where there was a ominous shadow with what seemed like two golden eyes looking at his body quickly After leaving, it was he xuan.He xuan had came to check on him? But why? Shi qingxuan was more confused by he xuan coming over than his own situation

After some more minute's of standing there he decided that he wanted to make it up to he xuan for what shi wudu had done to him "atleast try" he said to himself determinated,

for the next couple hour's he'd try to manifest his New form but if anybody could see him all they'd see is a little bouncing spirit

"ugh! Why cant i just get my form to manifest already?!" He said pouting 'bout it, even so he still went on his plan and started to move away from where he had died and stayed for the past day's

He decided to make his way to puqi shrine first often stopping to still try and get his New form or to just stare at everything living in the forest the Sun soon started to set down, shi qingxuan isnt used to not sleep at night or even the no breath needed so he setted himself Somewhere and looked at the night Sky with the glowing star's smiling enjoying the cold air and little glowing bugs standing besides him on the grass.

Hey sorry imma stop there for the first chapter i feel like its long enough however i already know what im gonna write in the seccond chapter so do not fear it shouldnt take too long until i post it ;p i rlly Hope u enjoyed it atleast im tryin my best to think this through

[miscellaneoussmp]

I want my happy-ish domestic ending, so I wrote it myself. Anyways, here's Emi's sixteenth birthday (cw/tw: death mentions):

When Emi woke up, she was filled with excitement. Today, she was officially sixteen. She had lived one more year, and that was something, right? She had a relatively normal life now. She was adopted all those years ago. She goes to school and hangs out with friends like all teenagers her age do. After getting up from bed, she walked into the kitchen of the apartment, passing Luis, who was sleeping on the couch. A note was held on the fridge door with a magnet. It was from Benito. It said he had to go into work early, but hopefully, he'll be back in time to celebrate her birthday. It finished with him telling her to have a good day. Emi tried her best not to feel upset as she knew Benito was out here saving people. Like how he saved her. She made herself a bowl of cereal and sat on the arm rest of the couch where Luis slept. The tv was playing some old reality show that Emi didn't much care for.

School was pretty normal for Emi, aside from being given a few happy birthdays and a small gift of a cookie from a friend. There was only one hiccup in the day. Honestly, it really isn't a hiccup, just a surpise. A substitute teacher called full names on the roster, including hers Emilía-Lucie Camelo. When her adoption became official, she was allowed to change her name. She thinks it was meant for her to only change her last name, but when she added Lucie to her first name, Benito smiled so brightly at her. It was another way to keep Lucie's memory and legacy alive.

After school was over, Emi went back to the apartment she shared with Benito and Luis. Only Luis was home as it was his day off from working night-shift security at some fancy hotel. He greeted her and wished her a happy birthday while ruffling her head under her beanie. The two sat in comfortable silence while she did homework, and Luis did some minor chores. Near sunset, there was knocking at the door. When Luis opened the door, there stood Jeffrey and Diego. The two had been traveling around the world working through whatever they needed to work through. They still made time to be in Emi's life when possible as they, Diego mostly, took comfort in her being living proof of Lucie's memory. After a small group hug, they four took some time to eat a few snacks and watched some more trash tv together like a family would. They are a family afterall.

Benito came back just a bit after sunset with a cake and a few candles. It was too long after, when Emi sat at the dining table with a cake in front of her with some candles stuck in it. "She would be very proud of you if she was here, Emi," Diego spoke, and Emi's started to tear up. "Don't make her cry on her birthday, jackass." Benito immediately responded with both Luis and Jeffrey giving him 'what the fuck' type looks. Diego immediately apologized, saying sorry quickly in rapid secession. Emi found herself laughing softly as the candles were lit. She closed her eyes and blew out the candles. Her wish was for her to make what happened all those years ago worth it. Her birthday cake was caramel apple flavored.

[terrence-silver]

Does Terry (any era) do anything in particular when beloved tries the "not tonight, dear, I have a headache" line to get away from his incessant libido?

---

― Twig is genuinely worried about his partner and their headache, possibly blowing the issue out of proportion to some degree or other; he's genuinely out here to fix it, though. Make it better. Give them medication. Bring up a glass of water to their mouth like they're a child. Latching unto them. Incessantly inquiring if they need anything --- if he could possibly do anything to help them. Fussing around them. Worrying. Overworrying and overthinking it, even. He'd devotedly adjust the pillow under their head and tucks them in with a blanket, if need be, so they could be as comfortable as humanly possible. Anything beloved needs, always. There's still something weirdly boyish and innocently childlike to a young Terry's loyalty, regardless if this is him before Vietnam or after it. He wants to do good and right by the people he cares for and this is evident in his acts of service that just beam through him at times. For some reason, I just imagine Terry laying down beside beloved on the bed, on his side, facing them and giving them a worried puppy look, outright waiting for their headache for pass diligently and frequently asking if it eased up at all, setting aside how turned on and frisky he might be. In fact, he could very well wait all night and just not sleep. Long after beloved's dozed off with exhaustion, Twig is still there, eyes open, watching them and acting as their personal guard, hoping they're better now or at least will be once they wake up, when it's fully evident he'll continue fussing tomorrow as well and possibly in the days that follow too. Best not tell him anything aches, regardless if it's true or a lie because he'll truly take the problem to heart as much as a person can take a problem to heart and he won't rest until it's fixed.

― Terry Silver in the 80's is going to tell beloved sex cures headaches. No. Really. It does. Didn't they hear? He'll tell them this and he won't even bat an eye even as he says it. An orgasm releases the tension from the muscles, opens pores, strengthens the core, relieves the chakras, turns the skin elastic and shiny, heightens serotonin receptors and makes the head feel light and easy. It overall tends to fix one's mood too. Has one living longer. Terry has his manipulation down to a science; beloved's being had, but my god if this man won't be capable of going to exact detail and making his reasoning on why he'll fuck beloved in spite of their headache sound outright logical to the degree they might even consider it, because they way he phrases it...well, it sounds so reasonable and believable, doesn't it? Might just convince them it's precisely because they ain't having sex five times a day that they're having a headache in the first place seeing as how it's one of the body's prime necessities in life, much like food and water. This is just their physique telling them they lack something and that something's him, of course. No use in fighting it. It's not Terry Silver saying this. It's natural instinct. Duh! By the end of it, he'll outright philosophize beloved into sex and giving him what he wants, when he wants it, headache or no headache. If it miraculously stops hurting once he's done he'll use that as a testament to the fact he was right, as always. Beloved might even thank him and he'll relish taking the gratitude, acting a bit humble even as he eats it up. If it doesn't stop hurting, he'll just multitasking by phoning Margaret into calling over a doctor while he prepares for the next round with beloved meantime.

― Old man Terry might just openly call out beloved on their trick with zero hesitation and a smile plastered all over his face, saying something of the likes of 'You're really gonna use the headache excuse on me?' maybe adding something in the nature of 'You can do a lot better than that.' because thing is, at this stage in his life, Terry might just be more blunt and no-nonsense than he's ever been before. Of course beloved's attempts amuse him. Of course he sees it as a challenge fuel. As an excuse to toy with them even further. An invitation, of sorts, to do what he wants anyway and break down their barriers. A game of sorts. Of course he's unfettered. Entertained. But, simultaneously, he'll fully and entirely let beloved know that he knows, that in fact, there's nothing that ails them and they're simply, for the lack of a better word, bullshitting him. Makes him wonder why, though. Has he been exhausting them? Now there's a thought that makes his ego swell even further and having him want to just downright break them. Or is it something that could blindside him and this is one of many signs that they're trying to put distance between him and themselves, because things like this...they always start out small. As small as a headache and saying 'no' to sex. The devil's in the details. And ah --- there it is. Now it stopped being quite so amusing. Terry's glee can very quickly turn sour as he overthinks and takes the rejection to heart, letting his own thoughts pollute him and conjure up prospects of betrayal when there are none. Don't you want him anymore? Paranoia running rampant, man can go anywhere from hitting the bottle, to grieving, to genuinely keeping an eye out for you and taking precautions in case you're planning to leave him.

[honey-on-your-tongue]

New Beginnings

Prologue

Series masterlist

The grief is a living shadow. It looms behind Jake, every day and every night. With everything his kids do, it hurts: every laugh from Tuk, every smile from Neteyam, every mischief of Lo'ak's, and every witty response of Kiri's—it all reminds Jake that Neytiri is gone, that she can't be there with her children to witness them growing into the amazing beings they are.

Everyone tries to help Jake through the pain, to reassure him, to calm his sadness. But to no avail. The grief is too intense, it lives within him. Every day he wakes up and feels it, every night he goes to sleep with the ache in his heart.

It hurts. Always so bad.

The only reason he still goes on is for his kids. As the days go by, he expects the grief to lessen. It never does. He simply gets used to the ache.

And then one day, he receives a visit from the Sky People. The guys that helped him through the avatar program, a few who have proven kind and loyal to the Na'vi, and a new person. A woman, smart eyes taking in the surrounding Pandora forest. Her lips are open in awe, her hands fidgeting. She's clad in khakis, a black shirt, and a pair of large combat boots. She looks—

Beautiful. She looks beautiful. An angel sent from heaven.

As Jake leads the group of scientists into his tent, he can't help but stare at her. There's something so soft, so comforting about her presence, that he just feels drawn to her.

You walk past Jake Sully who stands near ten feet tall, and offer him a smile. You don't know much about him, have never met him, but you understand his situation and his friends' worries.

Jake looks exhausted, dark circles under his eyes, a broken expression on his handsome face. He looks older somehow, as if he's years older than he actually is. It's like the grief has made each day into a week, each week into a month, and each month into a year, stretching out the time of his pain.

You can see why his friends are concerned, and you feel worried yourself. Seeing someone broken as Jake, after everything he's already been through, it's disheartening. But that's why you're all here, to help him through this hard time. And he'll make it out.

I'll make sure he makes it out.

The tent is decorated in a bunch of tapestries, misshapen and mismatching. A child—well, she's almost your size—runs to her father's arms. He picks her up and she stares down at you all, eyes wide and curious.

“Hi,” you say softly, waving at her. You introduce yourself, your voice soft and gentle, and then you ask, “What's your name?”

Jake watches the interaction. It warms his heart to see how kind you are to his youngest.

“I'm Tuk,” the child replies, struggling to get out of her father's grasp and to the ground. He places her on the floor and you smile at her.

“That's such a pretty name,” you tell her. “How are you feeling, Tuk?”

The child remains silent for a long while, so much that Jake thinks she's not going to talk. But then, she announces, “I miss Mom.”

Jake's heart breaks, tearing into a thousand little pieces. Tears brim at the corners of his eyes, and he feels like someone's punched him in the stomach.

You nod, understanding. “Okay. So you feel sad?”

Tuk murmurs, “Yes,” her voice breaking. “I always feel sad.”

“Always?” you question.

Jake just stares down at his youngest, an ache spreading through his chest.

Tuk nods. “Always, because I always miss Mom.” And then she starts crying, sobbing silently, wiping the tears off her face.

Jake is about to hug his child, but you beat him to it. You place a hand on Tuk's head, softly caressing her hair. “It's okay, Tuk. I lost my mom too, you know. When I was sixteen.” The child glances up at you, big eyes full of tears. “And it still hurts, always, but it becomes manageable. You wanna know something I like to think of when I'm really sad?”

Tuk nods. “Okay.”

“Life goes on, sweetie,” you tell her. “Time keeps passing, everything around you keeps going, and your mom wouldn't want you to stop living. She'd want you to enjoy life.” Your eyes flicker up to Jake's as you add, “So don't stop living.”

-----

@kamcrazy123 @yagirlheree @sweetllamaparadise @neytirishottie @goddesslilithmoriarty @eternallyvenus @saltedcoffeescotch @ultraxviolencx

[nabtime]

Our Empty Graves XII

Fandom: Danny Phantom / Batman: Under the Red Hood

Pairings: Danny Fenton/Jason Todd (Dead on Main)

Rating: Mature

Tags: batfamily, hazmat AU, Nobody Knows AU, Mute!Phantom, potential ghost king danny, slow burn?, DC means Disregard Canon, AU means AU nothing is exactly the same, Angst with a Happy Ending, Hurt/Comfort, more than canon typical violence, danny is a Halfa and also a Fetch, no beta we die like basically everyone

Summary: They say that Red Hood has a loyal mutt. The man rules his territory in Crime Alley with an iron fist and a guard dog at his side. They say that Hood calls him Fetch, sometimes Fetcher. No one's ever heard him speak. Anyone who's ever seen him says he looks like an experiment gone wrong, that Hood picked him up somewhere unspeakable. They say he'll do anything Red Hood asks of him and he'll do it well. That he's strong and fast and probably inhuman. The girls say he's sweet; quiet but charming in his own way. Rival gangs say he's vicious; that he'd sooner rip your throat out than let you go.

Jason just wants to help him.

Chapter 12: with my eyes wide open im dreaming (darling do I deserve such a break?)

Chapter Summary: Recovery, cooking lessons, and an odd dream.

Chapter Notes: title from With My Eyes Wide Open I'm Dreaming by Patti Page Links: AO3 // Chapter 1 // Chapter 11 // Chapter 13 // Spotify

They got back from Doctor Leslie’s clinic after she’d kicked them out in the early hours of the morning. Danny couldn’t really tell you which day or how long they’d been in her clinic, but he could tell you it was early. Too damn early for anything, let alone traversing the back-streets of Gotham and hoping no one tried to jump them while Red’s hands were tied. He carefully directed Danny down the streets and made sure he didn’t get lost as they made their way to one of Red’s safe-houses. From what he was able to tell it looked like the same one he’d first been brought to, the one he was most familiar with. The one that looked the most lived in.

They both collapsed on the couch and didn’t move for a long while, neither of them dropping off to sleep like they should have- just trying to process everything.

Danny chose to stare at the ceiling, the colors of everything around him seemed so bright- no matter how often he’d had his tinted visor off lately, it was still something he wasn’t used to. He’d... existed, for so long, with everything in shadows and bathed in a sheen of darkness. His face felt naked and vulnerable to the world.

He didn’t want to put it back on, though. Which was a new and terrifying feeling.

He chose to ignore it and bask in the silence of the apartment, the only sounds being the hum of the appliances and the distant hustle of the city. There was a surprising lack of screaming and sirens that usually plagued Gotham, probably from the ungodly early hour. Even the terror of Gotham had to sleep sometimes- the rogues and the bats all tucked away all nice in bed while the normies went about their day.

What a wild place he’d landed in.

He hoped that explosion hadn’t hurt anyone else. He’d been far too distracted by making sure Red made it out okay that he didn’t even think to look for any other casualties. Although, he was pretty certain no one else liked to hang around the carnival themed area of the docks so the likelihood of any others getting caught in the blast was low. But not zero. Whatever the case, it was too late now- the cleanup and aftermath having long since passed. Whatever bodies there may or may not have been weren’t something he could help with now. It wasn’t something he particularly want to think about either. (There seemed to be quite a few things that he didn’t want to think about.)

He thought, instead, about what to do with Red’s hands. As a ghost, Danny had some semblance of accelerated healing. So, theoretically, since Hood was also ghost-adjacent, he could have accelerated healing too. Maybe Danny could jump-start the process? Figure out a way to blast his hands with enough regenerative ectoplasm that it fixed them all shiny and new instead of making them radioactive? He also needed to take care of that poison pooling in the other’s chest. He didn’t like it. He’d never encountered ectoplasm that was so rancid before. Usually you could tell the intent of the stuff by the smell or the taste- some instinctual sense ghosts had to tell one type of goo from another. The stuff Hood had felt like nothing but pure malice. It had no other purpose but to hurt.

It was close enough to ectoplasm to bring the other back to life (if that’s even what did it in the first place) and give Red some ghostly attributes (like purring!) so it stood to reason that pure or at least regenerative ecto would fix it. But would flushing his system with it work? Would it eradicate the poisoned ecto or would that have to be removed first for it all to work? Would anything even happen at all? Would any of it help or would trying to do any of that just kill him all the way? Red had been alive with the bad-goo for this long without much consequence, who’s to say it even needed to be removed at all?

Danny didn’t know. Danny didn’t even have the slightest clue. He wasn’t a doctor. He wasn’t an expert. All he had were questions and shoddy speculations. Nothing he could test. Nothing he would dare mention to Red in case it went horribly, horribly wrong.

It would be fine as it was for now. Probably. Hood would just have to deal with his hands healing at a normal human rate, no matter how long and terrible that was.

They sat for a good while longer. Danny in a slowly growing panic and Red nearly dropping off to sleep right there on the couch a few times.

Then the awkwardness began. The first hurdle they’d have to jump while Danny cared for the other during recovery.

Red pulled himself from the couch with a prolonged groan- movement slow and likely agonizing. He didn’t move further, just shuffled from foot to foot in discomfort and looked into the distance with the most despondent look he’d ever seen on the other man’s face. Danny sat up and studied him, waiting for a cue to guess where he could help.

“I have to go,” Red whispered, voice wrecked from his sore throat and the pure helplessness in his tone.

They had a silent stand off. Hood glared at his hands, then Danny, then the bathroom door just down the hall before he circled back to his hands. He didn’t appreciate Danny’s silent huff of laughter at the action.

Danny rolled his eyes and held up a hand, holding up one finger and then two and tilting his head in question.

Red sighed. “One,” he said tersely.

Danny shrugged a bit, hauling himself up from the couch. Then he stepped closer, looking up into Red’s widening baby-blues with a smirk. Gently, he undid the tie to Red’s sweatpants and loosened them, then stepped back. He waved toward the bathroom and then mimed shimmying pants down using his elbows and then sitting, trusting Hood would get the message without him having to spell it out.

Red squinted at him before the light-bulb seemed to go off. “Fucking genius,” he muttered before speed-walking for the bathroom- happy he could do that by himself at least.

(How he got his pants back on without Danny’s help was a bit of a mystery, but none of the bandages had been disturbed so he let it go.)

Red Hood was a stubborn man. Danny already knew this, but trying to take care of him and make sure he didn’t use his hands only made it clearer. Hood was a stubborn bastard dead set on self-sabotaging his recovery.

He refused help wherever he thought he could get away with it and tried to sneak in doing tasks that he knew he couldn’t do on his own anyway. Danny had caught him multiple times trying to do things he shouldn’t- like attempting to get plastic over the wrappings on his hands in order to do dishes when Danny wasn’t looking. Kudos to him for thinking to protect the wrappings from getting wet, but he was still in trouble because he was putting undue pressure on his broken hands. Danny had also caught the man trying to put on his Hood Helmet™ and crawl out the window! He’d had a very stern “talk” with him after that- Danny threatened to take Red’s hands off himself if he tried that again.

It was all incredibly awkward at first. There were quite a few things you couldn’t do on your own if you didn’t have hands- not if you weren’t used to it- not without tools. And Danny had to be there to help him with all of it. He didn’t mind it- not really. It was a little odd with how intimate it felt, but he liked taking care of Red. That protective part of his core hummed with satisfaction at being able to keep Red healthy and safe. He was also perfectly happy to let Red have as much independence he could manage without using his hands- if he could use his elbows or feet or whatever other appendage or makeshift tool for the task then Danny would let him. He was surprisingly resourceful so long as Danny made sure he wasn’t trying to push himself past his limits.

Their second big hurdle came with dinner.

Danny caught him trying to fumble with cooking utensils in the kitchen. He knew his cooking wasn’t that great, but come on! It wasn’t that bad! None of his food reanimated and he took that as a win.

“Ghoul boy,” Hood said after Danny had thrown a tantrum and pushed him into one of the rickety kitchen chairs and glared at him with his hands on his hips on accusation, “I’m tired of take-out. It’s been two weeks. And I don’t trust you to cook on your own after what happened with the bagels last Wednesday.”

Danny silently scoffed and threw a careless hand to the side. So I’d burned a few bagels. So, what?

Red glared. “You destroyed my toaster and nearly set the apartment on fire. The toaster isn’t even supposed to get that hot, let alone burst into flames that can’t be put out by a regular fire extinguisher. We had to toss it out the window and hope for the best! I don’t even know how you did that!”

Okay, so, maybe it was a bit worse than burning the bagels. But still! He could do something simpler! He huffed and threw his hands in the air. I could pour cereal without setting it on fire! Probably!

“You absolutely would find a way to set cereal on fire and you know it, Spooks,” Red retorted, irritated but also vaguely amused.

Danny deflated a bit before flopping into the other rickety old kitchen chair, scratching dejectedly at the sleek dark wood of the itty-bitty table the chairs surrounded. It sat in a small corner of the kitchen and was what counted for a dining room in the small apartment.

The apartment itself was small and cozy- it felt a little lived in- even if it was still pretty barren. The kitchen was well stocked with utensils and appliances (fancy ones that Danny definitely never wanted to touch for fear of either breaking them or them breaking him), if not always stocked well with ingredients. There were extra blankets and pillows for the second-hand couch- all in bland colors and made of cheap material. It screamed of a temporary place, something put together with minimal thought and expense- always meant to be a safe-house instead of a home. Not to mention the cache of weapons and tools that took up the entirety of the guest room. And the industrial strength first-aid kit supplies stocked in with them. He’d only glimpsed the room once, Hood showing him briefly when he’d apologized about not having any extra space. Danny’d shrugged- he slept in a tree most times, he could stand the couch.

Red interrupted his wandering thoughts with a question he didn’t particularly want to think about. “How’d you manage to be so bad at cooking in the first place? You eat, even as a ghost, so have you just been foraging around the forest all this time, like some undead squirrel?”

Danny huffed some semblance of a laugh before sighing. The question had an answer, there was absolutely a reason he was so bad in the kitchen, but did he want to share it? Show such a sad piece of himself to Red Hood? He stared down at the table as he tapped a slow rhythm on the wood. He couldn’t feel it under his fingertips, even without his gloves on. He debated for a bit before pulling the marker and whiteboard from his chest. He hesitated, fiddling with the cap and making no move to write.

There was a soft hum from Red and he looked up to see the other staring at the ceiling with a frown on his face.

“I’ve always liked cooking,” he said, voice soft and distant. “Even when I was bad at it, even when I didn’t know what I was doing, and even when I was only doing it because if I didn’t then I wouldn’t be fed.”

Danny felt his core let loose a small mourning croon before he could stop himself, the sound not unlike a dove’s churr. He quickly slapped his hands over his mouth (like that was even where the sound had come from) and tried hard to fight off a blush.

Red let out a short laugh at him, his eyes focused on Danny now instead of some long-away point in his past. Red’s grin slipped, though, as he continued.

“Growing up in Crime Alley is tough. Even tougher with a shitty dad and a mom that couldn’t control her drug use. She tried her best, but her good moments- where she was coherent and cared- were few and far between,” he said before smiling a bit. “The neighbors would step in, sometimes, if I bugged them enough. If they were friendly enough. Learned a lot of different recipes that way, too. All kinds of folk can end up down here, on the ground floor of Gotham.”

He sighed. “Really had to learn to fend for myself when I was inevitably orphaned.”

Danny didn’t like the way he said that. Like it had only been a matter of time before he was left to the mercy of the streets. Like it was the expected outcome. Like it was an everyday occurrence. Or- like he had deserved it. Like the circumstances had been his fault. He crooned again, lifting up from his chair and reaching out.

He placed a hand over Red’s forearm, wanting desperately to hold his hand instead, but trying to give comfort where he could anyway. Hood laughed softly at his efforts and smiled at him.

“I wasn’t orphaned for long, Spooks,” he said, using his wrist to pat at Danny’s hand to let him know it was okay. “I got picked up eventually.” And then his face twisted into a grimace, a complicated series of emotions flashing across his face before he shook his head to clear it. “B wasn’t ever allowed in the kitchen, but Alfred taught me all kinds of tricks and tips and dishes to make. I miss it sometimes, honestly.”

Danny floated closer, lifting fully out of his chair to lean against Hood’s side, offering silent support. He didn’t ask, not wanting to bring up bad memories and knowing full well how painful it could be to think back on the good times before you died. Most times it was worse than thinking about the bad times; because you knew it would never be the same. That you could never, ever, go back to those times. Death, even temporary as it had been for both of them, was a force of finality. A curtain closing around your life as you knew it. Dying changed you.

Red smiled and leaned down to press his forehead to the top of Danny’s head where the foggy wisps of his hair licked at Hood’s shoulder. Danny just nuzzled him further before pulling back and picking up the board again. He wouldn’t share everything, but he could share a little. Just like Red had. He tapped the board for a bit before deciding on what to write, appreciating the quiet patience of the other beside him as he waited.

My dad was really bad at cooking- unless it was fudge. And my mom wasn’t too bad at it, but she’d get distracted a lot and end up burning things. And then she and dad would hole up in the lab most days anyway. It didn’t help that they would store specimen samples in the fridge next to the food either. My older sister tried her best, but she was too young for most of the big appliances at first and no one was around to teach either of us most of the time.

He decided to leave it at that. He didn’t want to go into the times the food came back to life. Didn’t want to think about how many thanksgivings and holidays had been ruined from the turkey reanimating and besieging the house or the cookies going up in flames and almost burning everything to the ground. Didn’t want to think about all the times Jazz had burned herself trying to keep them fed with something decent or how often she’d had to beat the blender into submission with the Fenton Creep Stick. He couldn’t look at a toaster without shuddering- probably why Red’s had combusted like that, actually- not after one had tried to eat him alive when he was five.

Red nudged Danny’s arm with his elbow, offering a silent comfort just like Danny had done for him. He also didn’t ask further, letting the knowledge sit between the both of them. Red hadn’t had a good childhood and Danny hadn’t had a particularly stellar one either. It’d taken time and perspective for him to come to that conclusion- about how his parents hadn’t been as good as they probably should have been. And that wasn’t even to mention what happened after the accident.

He caught Red looking thoughtfully down at the main jumpsuit of the hazmat he still wore, and heard the soft murmur of, “A lab, huh?” before Red sighed and slumped over the back of his chair. His huge muscley bulk made it creak ominously.

“Alright,” Hood declared, pushing himself up from the table and attempting to put his hands on his hips before thinking better of it. “Cooking lessons it is, then.”

What? Danny stood fully and moved to stand in front of Red while drawing a frantic question mark in the air. How the hell did he expect to do this without hands?!

Red shrugged. “I’m going to tell you what to do and you’re going to do it. Carefully and with strict supervision. And you might want to go ahead and grab the fire-extinguisher.”

Danny stared. This was not going to end well.

Oh well, it wasn’t his kitchen at risk here. He did grab the extinguisher, though.

“Open up the fridge and the cabinets, Jellyfish. I gotta see what we’re working with here.”

Danny did so, floating a little bit in order to reach the top shelves and ignoring Hood’s soft snicker at the action. Damn tall people. He stood back and watched as Hood went around, muttering to himself as he compared different ingredients- what little they had- and only occasionally asking Danny to pick something up and check its expiration date.

“The andouille’s still good, we have rice, and the spices are all in date- even if they’re not fresh,” he heard Red murmur as he paced around the small space in the kitchen, Danny now floating over the table to keep out of his way. “No aromatics, though. Didn’t have a reason to keep fresh produce. Miracle at all that I even had sausage and broth.”

He paced back towards one of the cabinets, lifting a hand before pulling it back when Danny made a move to lunge and stop him. He grumbled before using an elbow to shift the cans around himself.

“Tomatoes,” he said, nudging a can to the front and picking it up between his elbows to place on the counter, “so creole style.”

Danny would forever be impressed with how much Red had learned to improvise in the two weeks without his hands so far. The man had been put out at first but he was quickly learning everything he could and couldn’t do and what he could manage in more- creative ways.

The table was already littered with several ingredients, ready to be put to use once Red was finally done obsessing over having everything they needed. Oil, sausage, a bag of long grain rice, a box of chicken broth, a bottle of hot sauce and another of worcestershire, and several different spices and seasonings. One was labeled Cajun, so he assumed they were cooking something spicy.

“Fetch!” Hood barked, causing Danny to startle out of his floating and almost fall- barely catching himself before he hit the table. He looked up to see Red grinning at him and stuck his tongue out in retaliation.

“Grab my phone for me, would ya?” Hood asked before turning back around and assessing the bare cabinets yet again.

It had become a pretty common thing between them, Hood trusting Danny with his phone to text and help make calls. It was the only way Hood was allowed to still run his criminal empire- from a distance, and in turn Danny was trusted with the passcode and access to everything. Red had a surprising amount of numbers saved in there- always a person for something or another. Just as many numbers for Grannies around the Alley as there were for the gang members in his crew. Danny knew Hood was trying to build a community- trying to make things better in every way, but it was still astounding to see.

He’d called Nadi early on that way too. Yes, Hood had had to do the talking and Nadi had chewed him out real good before busting down the door to the apartment to make sure Danny was okay, but he hadn’t wanted to let her worry. She’d taken Red by the ear and chewed him out some more after fussing over Danny- telling Hood that the only reason she wasn’t tearing him a new asshole was because he’d already done that himself. He’d been surprised that Red had been willing to let her see him without his helmet- he’d still slapped a mask on but still. And even more surprised that he’d let her know the address to the apartment. It spoke a lot of the trust he had in both Danny and Nadi. He was in a particularly vulnerable spot with his injuries- yet he’d let them in.

He grabbed the phone from corner of the living room that had a tiny little table next to an open outlet with a charger plugged in. Hood had multiple phones- most of them burners- but this one was the main one so it got it’s own special little place. He popped it off the charger and skipped back into the kitchen, unlocking it and holding it up for Red to see.

He nodded and said distractedly, “Call Mama Pourciau for me, please? I’m hoping she has some of the ingredients we’re missing.”

Danny did as told, scrolling through the frankly huge list of contacts until he got to Mama Pourciau and clicked the call icon. He put it on speaker and held it close to Hood so he could talk comfortably. He wondered idly what they’d be making.

Well, he wasn’t about to find out through the phone call because Red was not speaking English while talking with Mama Pourciau. If he had to guess, he’d say French- but it also sounded different to any French he’d heard before. He’d have to ask later what language it was.

He zoned out while watching Red talk, his voice nice as it wrapped around words he’d never heard before- the accent of them pleasing in a way Danny never thought he’d have a thing for. And then the call ended on Mama P’s end and Hood was smirking at him over the dial tone.

He shook his head and gave Hood a sheepish look, floating back over to the living room to put the phone away in order to avoid the teasing light in his eyes.

“She’s going to be bringing a few ingredients by, so keep an ear out for the door. She didn’t have everything but it’ll do in a pinch,” he said and then paused and hummed thoughtfully. “Go find those blankets that Mrs. Almeida dropped off the other day, too. Mama Pourciau’s daughter had a baby a few months ago and those should do as payment.”

Danny grinned and gave a jaunty salute before hopping away to hunt down the downy-soft blankets Mrs. Almeida had knitted and brought over for them in thanks for paying her son’s bail last week. Joao had done nothing wrong and Mrs. Almeida had been beside herself when the GCPD had tackled him and taken him in. Danny himself had gone down to the precinct and haunted the shit out of them in retribution.

Most people in the Alley seemed to work within a complex network of barter and trade, working with each other to cover each other’s needs. At least, now that Hood was making sure there weren’t any trouble-makers to disrupt it they were. And he kept the cops away from things that weren’t their business. Before the Alley had seemed to be a free-for-all. An every-man-for-himself type of place full of cruelty and despair. Now, slowly, it was building into a community. Something beautiful.

When Mama Pourciau knocked on the door, Danny answered with a grin and an armful of brightly-colored blankets. The older woman-stout and dark skin lined with age- had cooed and kissed his cheeks and traded burdens with ease. She hadn’t flinched at all at the sight of his fangs when he smiled. Hadn’t even hesitated to hug his colder body, her warm one smelling like coco butter and spices. She just patted him on the cheek and told him he was a sweet boy with her pretty accent and then told him to tell Red Hood that she’d be happy to send him recipes any time.

He nodded, awed at her response to his monstrous nature and waved with his hands full of groceries as she left. He felt dazed as he made his way back into the kitchen.

Red laughed at the look on his face when he came back. “Komik,” he said softly, shaking his head before gesturing for Danny to put the bags on the table to join the other ingredients.

“Cooking one oh one,” he started. “Fancy cooking, at least, starts by making your mise en place.”

Danny stared blankly and waited for Hood to explain what that was. He didn’t know any French, thanks. He’d barely learned any Spanish in high school before he’d had to drop out. Thankfully, Red knew full well he was an idiot already.

“You gather everything you need, measure it all out, and have it handy for when you’re ready to put it all together,” he continued without any judgment in his tone. “So lets see what Mama P was able to scrounge up and put it all together.”

Danny pulled everything out one by one, Hood naming each ingredient as he did so. Onions, green and red bell peppers, celery, garlic, dried oregano and thyme, okra, and even a small amount of shrimp.

“Ooh,” he said when Danny’d pulled out the shrimp. “I’m gonna have to get that woman something more than blankets for that. Didn’t ask her for any shrimp, sneaky minx.”

Danny had spluttered at the phrase, almost dropping the shrimp in the process. Who the hell called a sweet old lady like Mama Pourciau a minx?

Red laughed at Danny’s fumbling but then mumbled, “Don’t tell her I said that.”

Danny rolled his eyes before miming closing a zipper over his mouth.

“Alright,” Hood said, stepping over to the cabinets and drawers and pulling one open with his elbow. “Time to slice, dice, and measure.”

Danny pulled all the tools they would need per Hood’s instructions, making sure to follow along and pay attention. He was determined not to set anything on fire this time. Right now, thankfully, they weren’t working with heat yet, just chopping and putting everything together. Pulling out things like a Dutch oven and setting it aside. Measuring cups of rice and broth and using little spoons for the spices that were then put in little cups. It was fascinating. It was… nice.

Danny didn’t know cooking could be like this. Slow and methodical and soothing. There was no yelling here- no shouting about sentient hot dogs or being careful with the stove that he was too small to use. There was no uncertainty here- no guessing and guessing wrong about the basics and ending up with inedible accidents or stinging burns. Just him, Hood’s low, patient voice, and the food slowly coming together under his hands.

Partway through, Red had them stop and look for the small radio he kept in one of the upper cabinets, wanting to listen to something while they cooked. He had Danny flip though several different stations before landing on one that played music you might be more likely to hear play from a gramophone- soft and brassy and old. He’d wanted to question it, but watching Red’s eyes close in contentment and his hips gently sway made him pause. Maybe another time. He almost nicked himself with the knife watching those hips.

“We’re going to use the stove now, jellyfish,” Hood said softly as he nudged Danny with one of those distracting hips. “You ready for that?”

He shrugged. Maybe another time he’d be nervous, certain something would catch fire, but with Red showing him what to do and how, he felt pretty confident he wouldn’t mess up so badly this time. He bumped his own hip against Red’s and moved all the things they’d be sauteing next to the stove as the other told him to.

He browned the andouille, no problem, and then spooned it out for later. He poured in the onion, bell pepper, and celery, smiling as he stirred and relished in the delicious smell. Cooking had never smelled so good before- not when he was the one at the helm like this. It was something he could get used to if it went this well each time. It felt far more relaxing than he’d ever thought it could. He was used to the kitchen being a war-zone, full of screaming and fighting and chaos. This was nothing like that here now; just the soft sizzle of the food, gentle strains of old slow jazz, and the low murmur of Red’s instructions.

Hood hummed, pressing close behind him- chest to back, and hooked his chin on Danny’s shoulder. He was surprised at just how comfortable it all was. He leaned back into the embrace, just a bit, and felt his core rumble with a contented purr. Hood huffed a small laugh, but Danny could feel the echoing purr from the other’s chest against his back. Red had them both slowly swaying to the music and Danny had never felt so- warm was the only way to describe it- in his life.

“Garlic now,” Red said into his ear, “just for a little bit. Half a minute about. Till you can smell it good.”

Danny shivered and dutifully poured it in. The aroma in the kitchen was already heavenly, but it just continued to get better and better the longer they cooked. He could see why Hood liked this so much now. Eventually all the ingredients aside from the shrimp were added into the pot- Dutch oven- and all that was left was to wait while it simmered for awhile before adding them in.

It was peaceful and beautiful and if he could bottle the moment up he would. Just the smell of spices cooking on the stove and the rocking dance with Red to soft strings and trumpets. He didn’t deserve such a good moment. Something so painfully human and full of life. He didn’t deserve something so dreadfully gentle. But he wouldn’t tear himself away for the world. Maybe it was selfish of him, but he couldn’t bare to let it any of it go.

And in the end, well, they’d managed to make a pretty damn good jambalaya. Even Red said so.

═════ ◈ ═════

It wasn’t often that Danny dreamed. It wasn’t often that he slept in the first place, his ghostly nature allowing him to go for days without rest, and to dream within those handful of moments was rare. Nightmares, yes, they plagued him almost every time he couldn’t avoid dropping off to sleep any longer.

Dreams were different, though. Softer.

It should have been a nightmare, with what he was witnessing, but everything was distant and fuzzy around the edges. Like he was completely detached from the scene (the memory) he’d found himself watching from a completely different point of view. This wasn’t his memory, but it was of him, of something that often came back to haunt him.

He watched, in remote fascination, as his own clawed hand plunged into Pariah Dark’s prone chest and ripped out his core.

He’d been told by the other ghosts right before the battle, and in no uncertain terms, that taking the Tyrant King’s core was the only way to stop him. That without the original Council of Ancients to seal him away, putting him back in the Sarcophagus would do nothing. The only way for him to be defeated was to End him. And they’d all been fairly confident that Danny was the only one capable of doing it.

And hadn’t that been something? Every ghost that had ever kicked his ass had told him that he was the only one. The only one strong enough to defeat an Ancient King that had ruled over the Realms for thousands of years, that had previously only been defeated by being locked away by a group of powerful Ancients.

And he, an eighteen year old half-breed that they’d previously fought to hell and back, was their only hope.

He ran, at first. Scared out of his mind and fully believing that all his enemies were simply trying to get him to fully kill himself and act as canon fodder against Pariah to buy them all more time. Yes, he’d gotten stronger. Exponentially, every year. Especially after he abandoned the last shreds of his humanity and dedicated his full focus to developing his powers and fighting skills. He had no allies. Only four years of getting the snot beat out of him and a worryingly long list of powers that grew by the week. That wasn’t enough to kill a King. Not alone. Not by himself.

They’d found him and pulled him back, telling him his only choices were to either face the menace or be Ended himself. He hadn’t seen much choice there. They’d reluctantly laid out a plan to help him. They knew all their afterlives were at stake should he fail, but yet no one else stepped forward to do the job themselves.

The weight on his shoulders- his duty as a protector- had always been heavy. Especially when he’d just started out, when all he’d been was a scrappy fourteen year old just trying to survive. Just trying to protect the family that continually left him cold. Trying to protect the town that grew to hate him more and more. And when the GIW had invaded, it grew to protect other ghosts as well. It hadn’t been very hard, with the GIW being as incompetent as they were, but he still hadn’t wanted to see what would happen if they caught anyone. And it wasn’t like protecting the ghosts that hurt him had changed the status quo- he was far too used to saving those that would rather kill him than accept his help. But he gave it anyway.

And now they were forcing him. Telling him that despite all the animosity they’d treated him with, he was their only hope for survival. That he had to put what was left of his life at stake for them.

And he’d been so angry at first. Wanting to rage and scream and not being able to emit a single sound from within his suit. Because how dare they? How dare they pin this all on his shoulders? How dare they demand he save them after everything they’d put him through? After every fight, every taunt, every stab in the back.

And then Vlad, the idiot fruitloop that had started it all, had pulled the Fright Knight’s sword from the ground and transported the entirety of Amity Park into the Infinite Realms.

The people at the edges of his parent’s ghost shield had died. Humans couldn’t survive the Realms for long, and they could survive even less without protective measures like the shield. Not to mention however many casualties had happened when the ground itself had been rent apart with the transition.

And then the bastard had had the gall to tell Danny it was all his fault. That it was Danny’s cowardice that had killed them. Danny’s childishness that had caused everything to fall apart. He’d stood there, all smug and demeaning, pointing the sword at Danny’s chest as he placed the blame on someone else- completely disregarding how his own antics of tracking down the Ring of Rage for his own gain had been the reason Pariah was set loose in the first place. The Ring he still boasted on his finger.

It had never been more satisfying than that moment to punch the ass in his fanged blue face- the safety-goggles Vlad’d died in crunching under his fist.

The man liked to lord his superiority over everyone he came across, but especially Danny. Liked to claim that because he was the first of their kind, the first of the Halfas, and because he had years of experience and knowledge over Danny that he was better, and stronger, and smarter in every way and would always be so. That unless Danny gave in and became his student (his son), he would always, always be just a rash and ignorant boy. He liked to pretend, though, that it was also only a matter of time until Danny gave in. He used the fact that they were the same to twist the knife deeper and deeper. Insinuating that Danny’s path to becoming like him was an inevitability (and he refused to think about that).

But he was wrong; they weren’t the same. They were both Halfas, yes, but that wasn’t all they were. Danny was a Fetch, the ghost of a person still living. The true balance between life and death, a being both alive and dead in an even split. Vlad was a Draugr, a vengeful ghost with a corporeal body. There was still a part of Vlad that was living, however small, which classified him as a Halfa and allowed him to age the way a human would. But he was more ghost than human, even clutching to the last dregs of life within him as he was- claiming in vain he was human. Danny, on the other hand, had given up his life, denying that any part of him was still human despite the truth. Vlad was made from spite and slowly rotting flesh; Danny was made from tragedy and pure ectoplasm.

Danny had grabbed the sword from the cursing man and cut the hand that bore the Ring clean off in one vicious swipe. He’d never been so violent, never taken it that far before. And it had both felt exhilarating and terrifying. He’d shut down all feeling after that, grabbing the Ring for himself and leaving Vlad to scream and wallow in his deserved agony. They’d been lucky enough as it was that Pariah hadn’t taken the Ring from Vlad before that. With it, the King might have truly been unstoppable.

It’d been with the help of his enemies taking on the army, the Ring of Rage enhancing his Wail beyond measure, and the Sword of Nightmares slicing anything in his way, that he’d been able to fell the monster. He’d pinned Pariah to the ground with the Sword and used the enhanced strength of the Ring to dig into his chest.

(The Ring refused to leave his finger, stuck there- and forever making it impossible for him to speak without unleashing a world-ending wail. It stayed invisible most times, but he could feel it. Always.)

He watched, now, dispassionately, as a younger version of himself clutched Pariah’s core within his ectoplasm covered claws.

This was a dream, not a nightmare. He knew the difference well.

A figure appeared to his left, shrouded in a purple cloak and dark shadows, nothing of their face to be seen but deep red glow of their eyes- similar to the eye-shine of a predator in the dark. He knew the figure, but he couldn’t quite place from where. It was a memory on the edge of his mind, but he didn’t struggle too hard to grasp it. This was still just a dream.

The figure said nothing for a time, the both of them just continuing to watch the wretched memory play out. They watched Danny crush the core to dust, watched Pariah’s body melt horrifically slowly as he screamed, watched as Danny pulled the Sword from the King’s body and plunged it back into the ground. Watched as he fell to his knees in despair when nothing happened- when Amity remained trapped forever in the Realms.

“Why this?” he asked of the figure, wanting to look away, but unable.

“A warning,” the other said, voice smooth and even with the softest curl of a lisp at the edges. “A reminder.”

“Of what?” he asked, knowing he wasn’t likely to get an answer. Because that’s how all of this bullshit ever worked. Never any answers, never any real help.

“All will be revealed in time,” the other said, pulling a staff from the depths of their cloak and tapping it on the grass beneath their feet.

And then Danny woke up, disoriented and head fuzzy with sleep, the dream slipping from his mind the longer he tried to think of it, until it was nothing but a disquieting echo.

[elisaphoenix13]

Sleeping Beauty Syndrome

Like most families, late evenings were Stephen's time to wind down. The boys were awake but in their rooms for the night and wouldn't need his attention unless there was an emergency, and all three girls were asleep. Lucy had just fallen asleep so Tony was upstairs on his Starkpad making sure the little girl would stay asleep, but he would likely join Stephen in the next ten minutes to wind down with him.

The sorcerer was already starting by heading into the kitchen and opening the freezer to grab some chocolate ice cream. He had to bend a little further than usual because of course everything got buried or misplaced when someone went looking for their own thing, but he was determined to get his chocolate fix. Especially since Valerie wouldn't be eating off of his plate. Or in this case, his spoon.

He didn't even process the sound of the elevator opening as he searched for his elusive ice cream, but he did process the rather surprising and abrupt smack to his ass that almost made him jump. It left a sting behind from the strength and force of it and he turned to reprimand Tony.

"Damn, Sugar, if y'wanna popsicle you just hafta asss…" A snicker. "Ask."

It. Was. Not. Tony.

Stephen couldn't decide whether to be mortified or to laugh because in Quill's defense, the kitchen light was not on and the light in the freezer wasn't great.

The man was also drunk. It was a wonder the god could get drunk since he literally manipulated energy and light, so he must have gotten into the Asgardian ale and gotten off at the wrong floor. So as calmly as possible, Stephen finally found and retrieved his ice cream while Quill sniggered to himself about something, closed the freezer, and walked over to the light switch to flick it on.

Quill blinked back at him, looked him up and down, and sniggered again. "Yer magic 's gettin' good. Didn't know you could turn into Stef–Ste–Mom."

Stephen rolls his eyes. If there had been a physical representation of the alcohol Quill had sustained in his body, it would be up to his eyeballs. "VICTOR, please ask Scott to come get his very lost, and very drunk husband before he continues to molest me."

"Scott is currently out of town until the end of the week." The AI responds apologetically. "Shall I get Cassie?"

"No. I'm not going to–" Stephen starts but then the elevator opens again and the teen herself walks off.

"Ugh. There you are. You're hopeless when Dad's gone." Cassie walks over to Quill and links her arm with his. "Come on Papa. I think you need to go to bed now."

Stephen watches with some amusement as Quill looks down at her before saying, "but wha' about Scotty?"

"Dad isn't here remember? That's Mom."

"Huh…" Quill glances at Stephen again. "No wonder Tony taps that."

Cassie chokes and Stephen covers his face with a long-suffering sigh. "I apparently look like Scott when the kitchen is pitch dark with only the freezer as light. Do you deal with this everytime Scott is out of town?"

"No. He's usually busy with work too. But sometimes he has a day off and he gets drunk because he misses Dad. It's okay though. He's really easy to take care of. As long as I keep an eye on him and direct him to bed, he'll go to sleep and be fine in the morning. He's kind of like you when he's drunk. He just needs something to cuddle…but it has to be living. He passes out once he glomps onto me." Cassie shrugs. "I tried Emir but it's not the same for him."

Stephen frowns. "He doesn't…do anything does he?"

Cassie gags. "Oh god no. If he did I wouldn't deal with it. He's drunk but he knows it's me. He gives me extreme Papa Bear cuddles when he's drunk. Somehow he's more protective."

The sorcerer sighs with relief. "Well you better get him to bed before he decides on revisiting his old crush on Tony."

"I will die if that beast tries anything with me." Tony mumbles as he joins them in the kitchen. "I like my ass the way it is and I don't bottom to anyone. Especially not to him."

"Please stop. My ears are bleeding." Cassie gags and starts tugging Quill back over to the elevator. "Come on Papa."

Quill went without argument and as soon as the door closed on them, Stephen winced and rubbed the spot the god had not so gently slapped. He wouldn't be surprised if there was a bruise already forming. Normally if it had been Tony to deliver the blow, other parts of him would have been very interested, but he supposed some part of him knew it hadn't been so it wasn't an instant turn on. Maybe it was the strength behind it.

"What did I miss?" Tony asks curiously as he watches Stephen rub the sore area of his rear.

"Quill's drunk and mistook me for Scott. My ass will likely have a reminder of it in the morning."

Tony smirks. "Want me to kiss it better?"

"Maybe after I eat some of my ice cream." Stephen mumbles, getting a spoon from the drawer and taking it over to the living room to sit on the couch. 

Fortunately it seemed Tony was content with Stephen's answer…and he was successfully distracted by the jaguar insistently nudging his head under Tony's arm. Apollo turned out to be loyal and reliable much like Athena, but he was just a little bit…needier? He was nowhere near Flynn's level but it was likely that the large cat was mistreated to some degree. Like Emir had been. Apollo had been on the black market after all.

Stephen ate his ice cream and watched TV in peace, and when they were finished, he and Tony both decided to call it a night and retired to bed. There was no lovemaking, but Tony did get as far as getting them both undressed and giving every inch of Stephen gentle attention. He even followed through with his promise of kissing the forming bruise on the sorcerer's rear. Stephen would have normally been exasperated but Tony had been trailing kisses all over his body and drawing relaxed sighs from him that he couldn't find it in him to care.

Sometimes the gentle touches were all Stephen needed. Tonight it was enough to lull him into a dreamless sleep.

====

Tony woke up the next morning to his chest vibrating. It simply took him opening his eyes to find out it was because of a certain overgrown black cat lazing on him, and he pushed at Apollo.

"Get off. You have your own space." 

Tony grunts, relieved when the jaguar gets up and returns to his spot at the foot of the bed next to Athena. He laid his head next to the wolf's, who didn't even huff. She was already used to Apollo's disruptions. 

"Steph…" Tony rolls onto his side and wraps an arm around his spouse, minorly surprised when the sorcerer doesn't respond. "Stephen."

Stephen still didn't respond and Tony decided to let him sleep for a little while longer. He clearly needed the sleep and the two youngest girls weren't demanding his attention yet. At least if Diana needed something, she was willing to ask Tony about it. She was more likely to go find Cassie though. Tony would worry about Quill recovering from a hangover, but to everyone's irritation, the god didn't suffer from them.

Bastard.

Tony thought about staying in bed and relaxing for a bit longer, but then decided that it was a good day to make breakfast for the family. He didn't do it very often and considering Stephen was still passed out, the former doctor probably needed some breakfast in bed. The man did enough, everything under the sun, and definitely deserved it. 

Not that Tony didn't spoil him anyway.

So as quietly as possible, he slipped out of bed and got dressed before heading downstairs to start breakfast. It would be the usual large assortment since it was all eaten anyway and the kids were more likely to eat better with a variety of choices. Especially the girls. Although Valerie would eat anything on Stephen's plate…sometimes even William's. The plate sharing thing was likely part of her attachment but neither of them seemed to mind sharing with her.

It was in the middle of cooking breakfast when the kids started to wake up to the smell, and Valerie came into the kitchen holding her Mooey and looking a little upset. 

"What's wrong topolina?" Tony asks softly.

"Mama not waking up." She responds.

Tony frowns. "Still?"

Harley entered next looking equally worried and holding Lucy who looked like she had been crying. Now she just looked grumpy. "Yeah, Lucy was crying and Mom slept through it. Is he okay?"

"As far as I know." Tony answers and wipes his hands on a kitchen towel before holding his hands out for Lucy. "Give me Lulu and finish breakfast while I check on Mom?"

"Sure," Harley nods and hands his youngest sister over to his father and then takes Tony's place at the stove. "Come on Val, wanna help me out until Will wakes up?"

"Okay." Tony hears the quiet response as he leaves the kitchen and heads back up to the master bedroom.

Just like Valerie and Harley said, Stephen was still asleep and seemingly dead to the world. A thought that worried Tony so he walked over and checked to make sure his spouse had a pulse and breathing. He did have both at a steady rate, so Tony tried shaking him awake again, but to no avail.

"Steph." Tony says loudly with another attempt at shaking his shoulder. "You alright?"

No response. Not even when Lucy rather loudly demanded her mother's attention. Something that would have woken the sorcerer up from a dead sleep. Hell, even Valerie walking into the room for his attention would have done it too. Which made Tony worry even more. He tried checking for a fever next because usually that was one of the rare reasons Stephen slept like this…but there was nothing. Stephen was seemingly healthy as a horse…so Tony could only think of one thing.

Magic.

Stephen never used magic on himself to sleep, even if he was desperate for rest because he always wanted to be available for his children or for emergencies. He rarely even used it on the kids or team members. If he did it was for their safety or the safety of others. So if this was magic, had something or someone done this to him?

Tony grabbed his phone and decided to call Wong as William walked in. "Val and Harls told me Mom isn't waking up."

"I'm calling Wong. It might be–hey," he says when the sorcerer picks up. "I might be in need of some magical advice."

Wong sighs heavily. "Isn't that what your wife is for?"

"Ordinarily, yes, but he's the problem this time."

"What is it this time? Merman? Wolf?" Wong asks, sounding bored.

"No. He won't wake up." Tony says.

The line goes silent and he pulls his phone away to look at it, finding that the other man had indeed hung up on him, but before he could call Wong back, there was the unmistakable sound of a gateway forming behind him. Wong stepped through into the room moments later and immediately walked over to the bed to look the Sorcerer Supreme over as Tony and William watched curiously. Wong was hard to read at the best of times so they weren't sure if the situation was serious, but after a few minutes of Wong casting various spells, he sighed.

"It's not serious." Wong finally says. "It's exhaustion caused by astral projecting too much for too long."

Tony frowns and says, "so he just needs to sleep it off?"

"Yes and no. Sleeping it off can take longer than the alternative option."

"What's the alternative option?" William asks.

"There's a reason we call it Sleeping Beauty Syndrome." Wong snorts.

"Sleeping Beaut–" Realization dawns on Tony and he gives the sorcerer a flat look. "You're kidding right?"

"True love's kiss is a thing, just not the way the fairy tales portray it. Unfortunately most of the Sorcerer Supremes of the past didn't have someone like Stephen has you. So they had to sleep it off." Wong says and Tony raises an eyebrow.

"And how long would it take?"

Wong shrugs. "Days, weeks, years."

"Yeah…this family can't function without him for five minutes so we'll take the easy way." Tony snorts. 

He moves back over to Stephen after Wong steps aside with a sarcastic "hopefully you're actually his true love" which Tony deftly ignores after panicking about it for a split second. If he wasn't Stephen's true love, then he had better have an explanation if it wasn't one of the kids. Tony honestly wouldn't be surprised if it turned out to be Valerie.

But he leaned over to kiss Stephen after setting Lucy on the bed, and just when Tony was starting to believe that maybe he wasn't Stephen's true love, the man inhaled sharply and started to open his eyes. Lucy decided to help with the process by slapping his face in the way only a small toddler can.

"Ow." Stephen grumbles and opens his eyes to find three other people looking down at him. "Since when has watching me sleep become a spectator sport?"

"When you decided to overuse astral projection." Wong huffs. "Your husband had to call me because you had Sleeping Beauty Syndrome."

Stephen sits up and rubs his face as Lucy squeals happily–probably because she thought her slap helped wake Mama up. "I didn't realize I used it that much. I'll try to be more careful."

"Thanks," Tony says to Wong and motions to the bedroom door. "You want breakfast?"

"Yes."

The sorcerer abruptly turned and left the room and Tony couldn't help but laugh a little.

"We should feed him more often." Then Tony looks back at Stephen and folds his arms. "I should ground you from chocolate for worrying me and the kids."

"I promise it wasn't intentional." Stephen says as Athena finally walks up the bed to him to lick him.

"I'm glad you're okay." William says softly, reminding Tony the teen was still there. "Val was a little upset and worried."

"I'll apologize to her." Stephen says.

"Part of your apology could probably be letting her sit in your lap and eating off your plate." Tony says humorously.

"She does that anyway." Stephen says, getting up and digging some clothes out of the dresser and getting dressed. Tony smiles and turns him back around and holds his waist, making Stephen blush a little. "What?"

"I love you too Duchess." Tony grins.

"Douchebag."

"Harley's right. You can be vomit-inducing." William says as he picks Lucy up from the bed. "I'll leave you to your…grossness."

When William leaves with Lucy, Tony bursts into laughter. "Grossness?! Harley is definitely rubbing off on him."

Stephen smirks. "I think he's just realizing that he and Harley are getting to that point too."

"What kind of parents would we be if we didn't gross out our kids or embarrass them?" Tony smiles and kisses Stephen. "Come on Duchess. You have some groveling to do."

[redstringraven]

found this while moving posts between blogs and wanted to do it for raphneth. a bit of self-indulgence, as a treat.

send me a pairing and I’ll tell you who:

falls asleep on the couch

they both do. gwyn has little to no "sleep structure/schedule", and she basically only sleeps when she decides she needs it. the turtles are usually active at night, whereas gwyn can only be human-passing during the day, so she might snag sleep according to how she intends to spend her time. by the time she and raph are dating she's comfortable sleeping around anyone who lives in the lair, so grabbing naps on the couch instead of on her cot (or eventual bed) is no issue. sometimes she even prefers it. raph has just slightly more structure to his sleep schedule due to regular training sessions, but he's not too much better. for the most part he prefers sleeping in his room/in his hammock, but if he happens across gwyn dozing on the couch, he'll flop down with her. there's also a period during gwyn/ash's story-arc where he severely struggles with sleep and tends to grab naps on the couch or in places around family members, so he doesn't wake up alone.

makes friends with the neighbors

surprisingly? i'd say raph. it's no secret raph's ran into a human or three and wound up befriending them in one way or another while he's out getting some air. raph's prickly, sure, but he's willing to take pause and help those who can't help themselves, sometimes forming relationships in the process. gwyn is sus of any and everyone by default, and this hesitation to 'make friends' sticks around for a good long while even after 'her story' winds down. if leo's the one usually willing to help any and everyone while raph searches for any strings attached, raph is the helper now and gwyn is the one scrutinizing potential ulterior motives. gwyn is more than aware of how genuinely kind the boys are (she has first-hand experience), and their sincere generosity and selflessness will NOT be taken advantage of; not on her watch. (she is especially protective of leo in this regard, as leo tends to extend compassion and an open hand toward those who don't deserve it). this, of course, isn't to say gwyn won't eventually grow to like said 'neighbors'. just, if raph's slow to 'open up', she tends to be much slower. with a handful of exceptions to the rule.

is the adventurous eater

they both are, but gwyn slightly more-so. i think both raph and gwyn have gone through periods of their life where they didn't have the privilege to be picky about what they ate. raph's was likely more in his youth/early years when splinter was the only one responsible for feeding them, and it faded out at least a little as the boys became more capable of finding and getting food for themselves--as well as meeting casey and april. gwyn's period of food insecurity was much more recent, and she sometimes still behaves as though access to food will be taken away from her. the reason i say gwyn might be the more adventurous eater is primarily because gwyn has more experience with food across the universe. raph might hesitate a bit if something foreign is put down in front of him, questioning if it's actually food (i'm sure he remembers mikey getting food and floor wax confused), whereas gwyn would go "yeah it's food" and shove it in her mouth without pause. i imagine raph would also struggle with bugs being common snacks in various cultures; gwyn wouldn't bat an eye.

hogs the covers at night

raph. gwyn's not only used to colder climates and environments, she prefers them. she doesn't mind raph cocooning himself in whatever blanket they have; she'll usually end up curling around him, too, so her body heat provides a bit more warmth.

forgets to do the dishes

neither of them 'forget'. raph will do the dishes when it's his turn in the family rotation, and gwyn will fill in for mikey when mikey """"forgets"""" to do the dishes (or argues that since he cooked, he doesn't have to do them).

tries to surprise their partner more often

neither? i don't think either of them really go out of their way to create a surprise, the surprise element comes more from that they, individually, just didn't expect certain gestures. like. gwyn bringing raph home a bouquet of flowers. to her this is an obvious gesture--the flowers reminded her of him, her culture values plant-life and she values him--but raph is kind of taken aback by it (in a very good way). outside of situations like that, neither of them are too fond of surprises nor enjoy being surprised. and they know this about each other, so... they simply do not try.

leaves dirty laundry on the floor

gwyn, mostly on account of being the only one who really has 'laundry' to leave on the floor. she's usually pretty good about at least keeping it to one place if it's not already where it's "supposed to be". raph doesn't like wearing clothes that much, but he has a punching bag he slings his biking jacket over when he's not using it.

stays up til 2 AM reading

neither of them are big enough readers for reading to be the reason they're up at 2am.

sings in the shower

raph. it's canon. this dumbass sings in the shower. while song is a huge aspect of liáfsian culture, gwyn tends to be utterly silent in the shower. it's a vulnerable position to be in, and she tends to be as 'small and quiet' as she can be when doing things like that, as well as doing it as quickly as she can. get in, get out. done. as the years pass, however, i can see her easing up enough to start humming or singing liáfsian songs while in the shower IF raph is nearby. him being in earshot/in the room provides an element of security, because nothing can sneak up on her. raph also starts learning aspects of liáfsian culture and language as the years pass, too, so he might even know a few songs. he's obviously not the stronger singer of the two, but. who cares? it's nice.

takes the selfies

i don't think either of them like having their picture taken, so they aren't a couple who takes selfies. if they're going to appear in photos, it's going to be because someone else is taking photos of them, like bree or april. during gwyn's story-arc, she hates having photos of her taken and will either hide the photos or destroy them outright. post-story, she's a bit more relaxed about it but might get twitchy if a camera comes out OR if she realizes someone took a photo of her without telling her first. raph can get grouchy about it, but the people who would be taking pictures of him in the first place are people he already trusts and loves.

plans date night

they rarely 'plan' dates. usually their dates are just like "hey, y'wanna hang?" "yeah, sure." and they head out on either foot or on the shell-cycle. every now and again one of them will have a loose 'plan' or maybe a sense of direction/something specific they want to introduce the other to, but for the most part they just kind of see where the wind takes them.

[captain-grammar]

Booker's exiled. He's lonely. He has nowhere to go. He doesn't know anybody in this world. Nobody he could rely on. Nobody who he could spend some time with, or at the very least connect with while he tries to get his head straight.

Except he does.

He hasn't seen Gael in three years. He likely isn't even living in Murcia any more. He'll have moved on, taken another teaching job, hell, moved to another country.

But Booker doesn't have anyone else. Just a man he spent one night with who may not even remember they did.

Spain is as hot as the last time they wound up here. The cathedral square is just as rammed full of tourists. For a moment, Booker isn't even sure he remembers the apartment building he wound up in that fateful night but his feet sure do.

He doesn't wait to buzz. He takes advantage of a young mother's hasty exit and slips inside.

Booker's heart is pounding in the elevator. Every floor, a chance to turn back and go somewhere - anywhere - else.

Why am I doing this? Every step down the hall to a door he barely remembers. Why, why, why?

Loneliness is too strong a burden to ignore.

He knocks. Silence. Maybe there's nobody home? Maybe he has moved? Maybe this was all in vein?

Relief mixes with utter heartbreak when Booker realises that nobody is there to answer his knocks. Gripping tight onto his satchel, the bare essentials inside, he makes to turn.

But the door opens, and a familiar pair of deep, brown eyes, wide in surprise, greets him from inside.

"Sebastien?" Gael's voice is incredulous, his expression a picture.

Booker smiles weakly.

"It turns out you'll see me again after all," he jokes.

***

Gael isn't distant. He isn't even cold. He's confused and completely at a loss at what to say.

You can't stay here.

Booker hadn't even considered that it might be an option. He just wanted to see him. The only person on earth who knows anything about him that hasn't cast him aside for 100 years.

But maybe... Maybe we can catch up?

It starts with a friendly drink. Ice-breaking. That first night on repeat but with a hint of trepidation and of keeping one another at arm's length. Drinks turn to dinner. Dinner turns to nights meeting Gael's friends.

Is he going to be a fixture here? Gael's friends mock and tease. They know the weight of something between the two of them, even if Booker and Gael are loathe to admit it.

A few weeks pass and the ice has melted into a pool of warm water that Booker and Gael have long since given up pretending they're not wading waist-deep into. A night of quiet talk at Gael's apartment, his roommate casting an enquiring eye over the pair, excusing himself early, even though the sun set hours ago.

Booker sighs, more at one with the couch that he's been with the bed in his hotel room.

"I can't go back there tonight," he sighs, mostly to himself.

Gael offers a sheepish glance.

"Then sleep here tonight," he offers. "You're almost asleep as it is."

Decision made. Booker's here for the night.

Lights off. Pants off. T-shirt and underwear on his one-night stand's couch, lying under a blanket, eyes drifting to Gael's closed bedroom door more often than Booker would like to admit, wondering if Gael's thinking anything close to what's running through his mind.

Of course he's not. Booker shakes his head. Why the fuck would he?

Grunting, frustrated, the warm summer air thick even in the dark of night, he clambers up and pads across the kitchen for a glass of water. The cupboards are suddenly too loud, the tap too squeaky, the water gushing like a torrent.

Booker winces. Don't wake him, don't wake him...

A door behind him clicks open. Booker turns sharply, instincts heightened in his exile.

Gael. Dark curls rumpled. Eyes full of something Booker can't quite place but it looks almost like determination.

"Sorry," Booker whispers, laying the glass on the side. "Did I wake you?"

Gael shakes his head. "I haven't slept."

His glance is fixed on Booker like a hunter stalking prey as he walks towards him purposefully.

"Is everything alright?" Booker can feel his voice waver.

Again, Gael shakes his head.

"Something's missing," he says simply.

Booker's heart jumps but he hardly dare hope. He can't mean what Booker thinks he means, can he?

Gael's closing the gap and saying nothing. Words couldn't do justice to the way he's approaching Booker with a level of certainty that's almost alarming.

Booker's expecting the punch in the face he felt sure Gael would land on him when he saw him again. After disappearing, ghosting, without the call that Booker promised, he'd almost deserve it.

Instead, Gael takes him by the back of his neck and pulls him into a fierce, deep, slow kiss, chests flush, breaths shared.

An eternity passes like no time at all and they part, panting, pressing foreheads together.

"Come to bed with me," Gael murmurs, taking Booker's hands into his own with locked fingers.

Booker's led from the kitchen, through the lounge and into a room he didn't think he'd see again. Into a bed he never thought he'd lie in again.

Into sex with a man that makes him forget anything before it existed.

[beachy--head]

a new kind of waiting (1)

During those long, never-ending hours when the plane is missing and no one knows anything, she pretty much lives at the hospital, because if she doesn't stop moving, maybe she won't think.

A kind of japril AU take on the plane crash and the days spent waiting for news. One-shot.

Note: This started as a drabble, and well... it got a bit out of hand.

(read on ao3 or ff.net)

___

She keeps busy on day 1.

During those long, never-ending hours when the plane is missing and no one knows anything, she pretty much lives at the hospital, because if she doesn't stop moving, maybe she won't think. She doesn't sleep, she barely eats, she helps out in the ER and where she can, she babysits Zola for a few hours. When she's not working, she stays near the phone in her office or at the nurse's station, because it could ring at any moment, telling her that they – because there are other people she cares about on that plane too, even if her brain is too busy worrying about one of them in particular to spare a thought for the others – have been found all alive and well, and that the whole thing has just been a giant misunderstanding. Her heart stops beating every time she gets a page, or every time she sees Owen, and her stomach is nothing but a ball of nerves.

She decides that he cannot be dead on day 2.

Because if he is, then the last thing her best friend would have heard from her is that he had to leave her alone, and this cannot happen. She can't remember the last words she's ever said to Reed, and she refuses to acknowledge "I don't need your pity" and "leave me alone" as the last things she said to Jackson. To acknowledge that the last time she saw her best friend, she pushed him away as he was just trying to take care of her, like he always does.

Oddly enough, she doesn't cry. She's known to be the emotional one, she's pretty sure every one of her co-workers has seen her cry at some point or another, but she's feeling too terrified to shed a tear. The only time she comes close is when she hears Catherine Avery yell at Richard and Owen and demand they do something, but her mentor's anger only reinforce her belief that Jackson will be fine, because there's no Catherine without Jackson, and Catherine is here. Well, Catherine is here, but she's also not, because the broken look in her eyes when she meets April in a corridor and falls into her arms is very un-Catherine-like. And still, April doesn't cry.

Mark Sloan, of all people, forces her to go lay down in an on-call room on day 3.

She doesn't have the energy to refuse, and if she had, the look on the attending's face would stop her. It's fear, it's weariness, it's guilt for sending Jackson in his place, for making him take his spot on the surgery team as a parting gift, a reward for passing his boards. It's full of all the things he hasn't said to Lexie, and all the things he hopes to say to her one day, and before he leaves, she squeezes his hand, because she knows all too well what he's feeling.

She tries to close her eyes, but opens them right away, because of course she sees his face. His face laughing after a corny joke and too many beers at Joe's, his face frowning as he's trying to find the answer to one of her questions during one of their many study sessions, his face softening as he looks up at her, at all of her, in a hotel room in San Francisco. She doesn't know how she manages to fall asleep, but she wakes up with the covers lying on the floor and her scrubs all sweaty. She doesn't remember having nightmares, but then, she's living through one.

Alex yells at her on day 4.

They're in a patient room, doing some last check-ups before discharging him, and he starts yelling for the most insignificant reason. She yells right back at him, right in front of the patient too, before Richard comes into the room and asks them to leave the hospital and go back to their place to get some rest. He says he'll call them as soon as they have some news, and Alex mutters "whatever" and leaves without waiting for her. She's tempted to ignore Richard's order (he's no longer her boss anyway), but then she sees Callie pacing in the attending's lounge, clutching to Sofia, and Mark, his head in his hands, and Owen, who has maybe said three words ever since they found out, and she goes home. At the apartment, she goes straight to Jackson's room, snuggling under the covers in his bed, and only moves when Alex gruffly tells her that the food he ordered just got here. He ignores her when she says "thank you", and they eat in silence.

The phone rings and her pager beeps on day 5.

Alex drives like a maniac while she bites her nails in the passenger seat. She's tried praying the past few days, but the lines of communication between her and God are a bit murky at the moment, and it only makes her think about all of her failures, which makes her think of how she made Jackson feel responsible for them, which turns her stomach. She still manages to send a quick prayer, mumbling under her breath, not knowing if it'll be heard, and Alex doesn't even make fun of her.

At the hospital, they run, don't walk, straight to the conference's room, where most of the attendings are gathered. She can see the tears on Mark Sloan's face, and her heart stops.

It starts beating again when Hunt tells her that there was only one casualty from the plane crash, and that Sloan is weeping for someone else than his protege. The shock of hearing Lexie is dead battles with her relief that Jackson is alive, the two concepts clashing and jarring, and that's when the tears finally come. She finds a wall and slides down to a sitting position, her body racked with sobs, and Bailey kneels next to her and softly repeats that Jackson is okay, thinking she's misunderstood what she has just heard.

Jackson (and all of the other survivors) comes back on day 6, and a new kind of waiting begins.

[allgather]

[ knuckles ] - to kiss your muse’s knuckles + [ bed ] - to push or pull your muse back on the bed when they try to get up @iruka

It was not often when Iruka woke up before Kakashi. He often made it a point to lay there in the morning, watching the peaceful way Iruka passed air through his lungs. it was a steady push & pull, comforting in an unspeakable way. but today was a little different. kakashi had been sleeping more, sleeping better. he didn't want to admit it, but it was credited to how naturally iruka fit into his arms. he was surprised, dismayed even, when iruka moved to push himself out of bed before kakashi.

he lets out a groan, a certain neediness bleeding into his sleep-heavy voice. by the time iruka is sitting up, Kakashi has already grabbed for his hand. he draws it close to his lips, kissing iruka's knuckles gently before using the intimate moment to tug him back into the covers. when he wraps his arms around iruka, he might be holding him a little too tight, " Stay? just for a little while. "

iruka has been used to waking up next to kakashi for quite some time. before they'd ever spoken about living together, boundaries were blurred between their separate homes and the warmth of spaces that were truly shared. iruka's old apartment, which he remembers fondly from before the village was leveled and they'd all had to start anew again, was as well lived-in by kakashi as it was himself; pieces of the man intermixed with his own possessions, his favorites stocked readily in his cupboard, and his trashy romance novels left half-read on iruka's coffee table. now, in this place that is truly, wonderfully theirs, iruka revels in the simple luxury of waking next to this man he loves so dearly. kakashi; who waits for iruka to blink sleep from his eyes with a lazy smile and greets him with a watchful gaze, like his habit of rising first is more protective instinct than mere routine.

today, iruka rouses to the sound of kakashi's breathing next to his ear, steady and deep. still sleeping soundly, like a rare and wonderful gift. he tries to leave him undisturbed, extracting himself carefully from the warmth of his partner's arms, intends to rise and get started on breakfast. but, ah, they are shinobi after all, and kakashi must sense the absence of warmth and the gentle buzz of chakra against his skin even in his sleep, the way it wakes him ( and iruka had thought he'd been so careful ). iruka pauses when kakashi moves to take his hand and graze gloriously exposed lips against his knuckles.

he opens his mouth to reply that he'll only be gone a few short moments, just long enough to start coffee, when kakashi takes advantage of the lovely distraction his kiss has provided. iruka feels the pull, with a strength that doesn't surprise him but is certainly impressive for so soon after waking. he allows himself to be tugged back down next to kakashi, where he settles into his arms easily, head resting on his chest. he reciprocates the gesture, turning his head to find kakashi's hand where is rests on iruka's shoulder, and places a kiss to its back.

iruka laughs, something fond and warm and bright, though the sound is worn slightly around the edges, sleep-laden and groggy. kakashi's request reminds him of their fumbling beginnings, when iruka had asked much the same of a man he'd already loved, rather hopelessly. stay, please, just for a little while. it's as needy now as it was back then, but things have shifted and iruka revels in how they speak their love openly between them in the present.

he's helpless against kakashi's request, so earnest it makes his chest feel warm. eyes have already flickered shut again when he replies. "always. anything for you, my love."

[major-fukkup]

I feel the need to request elaboration on your demon sighting, if you’re comfortable with that 👀

Absolutely!!!

So, I see him a lot actually, he just hangs around, kinda just follows me everywhere I go but he keeps his distance for the most part. He's a shadow figure that often takes a human shape but I've also seen him as a cat several times and once as a dog and as a like I don't know how to describe it but he's big and shadowy and he has glowy eyes and he likes to say my name a lot and make weird noises.

I've been seeing him ever since I was a child and I guess I can't be too sure that he is a demon because he has never tried to hurt me, though my roommates and I did have a lot of weird stuff going on last year like electrical cords getting severed and my Gatorade being replaced with pinesol with the bottle somehow still sealed (the color was off and it smelled funny when I opened it so I did not drink it dw).

And when I lived by myself I used to go out on the back porch when I was feeling suicidal, to get some fresh air and hopefully a fresh take on life, and one particularly bad day I went out there to cry and figure out what to do and after a minute I opened my eyes and there was just a random rusty razor blade on the step that wasn't there before.

The sightings I could attribute to hallucinations brought on by sleep deprivation or schizophrenia, but not the other incidents.

Plus my dog saw him one night too. I was alone (same apartment I had previously lived alone in, only at this time I had roommates) in an upstairs bedroom with the light off and a shadow figure passed in front of the light that was shining in from a yard light out the window behind me, and my dog immediately perked up on the foot of the bed and stared at it but it was gone.

Then I heard my front door open, followed by footsteps on the stairs and a voice calling my roommate's name (I'll call him B). I just assumed my other roommate (D) had gotten home because he'd gone to the gas station for energy drinks not long before. B didn't answer (he was asleep and this was around 6 AM) and I was still lying on my bed unable to move or talk and then my bedroom door opened, a figure walked in, went around to the other side of my bed and started doing something with my stuff but I couldn't see what.

Again I just assumed it was D (it wasn't uncommon for him to borrow my stuff without permission but we won't go into that lol), until I heard the front door open AGAIN and I could move again so I went down to look and it was actually him that time.

The rest of the sightings are just like, he'll just be standing somewhere and I'll see him and just be like "hi" 'cause he's not doing anything. He did that to me the other night actually, standing in front of my curtain when I was trying to sleep, but I was in the process of having a breakdown over completely unrelated things so I just said "I'm really not in the mood for this right now" and he left.