#it’s a glowing lasso sure

[justwannabecat]

DC x DP idea;

Ghost King Danny is too strong to be fully compelled by the Lasso of Truth. Sure, he’s definitely more likely to tell the truth while in contact with it, but he can still lie- and instead of that commonly described burning sensation from trying to withhold/obscure the truth, it just feels kinda tingly.

So of course Danny doesn’t really get why everyone calls it “The Lasso of Truth”, it’s not even that impressive, besides the fact it can hit him even while intangible.

The rest of the Justice League… have quite a few more questions.

(And maybe some other magical stuff to test, too…)

[zylev-blog]

Danny was pissed. He was chilling in the Speedforce, waiting on his dad—the Flash—to show up when he felt something shift around him. He exited the speedforce to find that the timeline had changed again, and he had been written out of the timeline. He technically was a time anomaly now, and didn’t exist. So he talked to Clockwork, a ghost he’d gotten to know extremely well after Danny’s creation.

Danny was a clone of the Flash and Green Lantern(Hal Jordan) as part of an experiment that Lex Luthor had taken prior to cloning Superboy. Lex had wanted to know if the power ring was able to transmit anything genetically (it couldn’t. It was a wearable weapon, not a genetic thing.) but Danny had inherited Flash’s superspeed, so he wasn’t a complete loss. Danny wasn’t sure if he looked more like either man, considering they both wore masks. He had brown hair and green eyes. Beyond that, he tanned well, was tall for his age, and packed on muscle far easier than the Flash did. He hadn’t ever seen either man out of the costume.

After a talk with Clockwork, he decided he was just going to force his way back into his Dad’s life. Both of them, if possible. He arrived years before his creation by mistake, right near the start of the Justice League. By his estimates, the team had only been formed for a year before he’d arrived. It was strange; he both didn’t exist and was from the future. He guessed that it was around nine years before his birth, and since he was technically six months old, he was 9 years in the past. Thinking about this was going to give him a headache.

The Justice League was severely mistrustful of each other. They didn’t go out of their way for teamups, didn’t have weekly meetings, and almost pretended if the other members didn’t exist. The most recluse of them was Batman, of course. If any hero set foot in Gotham, they were booted out before they even got to downtown. Danny highly suspected Batman had the entire city on camera. The situation was weirding him out more than before. What had happened to the team?! He was used to everyone being one big family, and even the sidekicks having their own teams… speaking of sidekicks, why was Robin so small?! Wait a minute, that wasn’t the third Robin that he was used to, that was the first Robin! Baby Nightwing!

Thankfully for him, he still had his costume on this entire time as he zipped around the country, spying on the younger members of the Justice League. It was surreal watching everyone try to capture him, but he wasn’t going to be caught that easily!

Eventually his presence forced the Justice League into another teamup. Batman laid the trap out, and Flash lured him into it. The plan was so beautiful that he didn’t even realize it was a trap until he was caught in it. Green Lantern took off Danny’s mask, and for the first time, he looked at his fathers without a mask. They didn’t make the connection to him right away. It wasn’t until Wonder Woman’s lasso made its way around his wrist that the truth finally came out.

“Who are you?” Wonder Woman asked.

“Oof , hard question—ow ow oww—I’m being honest!” He struggled against the lasso as it started to burn him. “My designation was Dn-y, I go by Danny, though. I’m a clone.”

“Of who?” Batman demanded.

“Flash and Green Lantern.” The lasso was glowing brightly, indicating that he was telling the truth.

“How did you escape?” Flash asked.

He didn’t answer right away. He was trying to think about how to phrase the whole time traveling—timeline erasure thing when the lasso started to burn him again. “Ow ow! Sorry, I’m thinking! Ow! Turn down the settings on that thing, holy shit—okay, okay.” He winced, his words coming out in one breath as he quickly talked, “What do you know about time travel?”

Diana’s eyebrows were rising. “How are you able to resist the lasso for so long?”

“I’m not really resisting it.” He answered, noting the obvious deflect of his last question, “I just-oww—okay! My mind moves too fast for me to put into words sometimes and it makes me stop to think about it, but like, I’m not good at controlling the speed in which I speak all the time—owww make this thing stop burning me! I’m speaking honestly!”

Diana revoked the lasso, and he rubbed his wrist where his costume was starting to singe. He was still trapped in an anti-speedster prison, so it wasn’t exactly like he was going anywhere anyway.

“Why were you asking about time travel?” Batman asked.

“Based on the crickets chirping I heard earlier, that leads me to believe you guys haven’t had any experience in it yet.” He leaned against the wall of the prison, wincing as it shocked him with electricity. “Seriously? How paranoid are you, Batman?” He rubbed his shoulder. “Honestly, I don’t know what I was expecting with you people, but I feel so attacked right now.”

“So we have experience with it in the future?” Superman piped up.

“Yeah?” His tone of voice equated to a ‘duh’ tone. “Why would I ask what you knew if I wasn’t from the future?”

“How far in the future are you from?” Green Lantern asked.

“Nine years, maybe close to ten? Timelines are weird. I’m technically six months old, but at the same time I’m sixteen. Cloning is odd, but I was like, the first clone ever, so I don’t really have a basis for this sort of thing, if you catch my drift.” He shrugged. He seemed like he talked a lot more than the heroes did, but he didn’t know if that was because he was a chatterbox, or because they weren’t comfortable in each other’s presence. Either way, the silence was odd to him.

“How did you end up here?” Batman asked.

“Honestly? I don’t fully know. Don’t give me that look, Diana! I’m telling the truth.” He added quickly as Diana fingered her lasso again. “All I know is one minute, I’m chilling in the Speedforce, and the next, the timeline is changed and I’m nine years too early for my birth. You’d think the timeline would at least have the decency to spit me out in my own year, but nooo, it wanted to—“

“What’s the Speedforce?” Superman interrupted.

He tilted his head at Superman’s question, then turned to the Flash. “How long have you had your powers?”

Flash shifted uncomfortably. “Two years.”

“Oh boy.” Danny’s green eyes widened. “You don’t know anything about them, do you?”

“I do know things!” Flash deflected, “My suit doesn’t catch on fire anymore! I can run up to Mach 2! I can get from either end of the country in thirty minutes!”

He groaned loudly. “Oh no. Oh no.” He chewed on his thumb, trying to recall everything he’d learned about his powers from his Flash. While he hadn’t learned his or Green Lantern’s identity yet, he knew almost everything about their hero personas and a lot of personal information. They were just worried of the Cadmus connection and didn’t want their identity to fall into the wrong hands if they still could see inside of Danny’s head.

“What’s wrong?” Diana asked.

“Okay.” He ran his hands through his brown hair, making it spike up. “Hypothetically—“ he cut himself off as Batman glared at him. “Okay, totally real, but uh, Flash, let’s just say that I’m faster than you right now. A lot faster.”

“How much?” Flash took a step forward, obviously curious.

“From what we can tell, I’ve topped out at Mach nine.” He responded with a dry laugh, “But your speed was still a lot faster than mine. You’d never tell me what it was. I’m still growing though, and I’m getting faster. I’m able to beat my precious time by almost double each time we test. But my situation was complicated, and things were happening, and it was a mess.”

“Like what?” Superman asked.

“World war three. I think?” He rubbed the back of his neck, a gesture that he had picked up from Green Lantern, “Things got complicated. That’s why I was going to wait for…” his eyebrows scrunched together as the last piece of the puzzle clicked into place. “It was you!” He turned to Flash. “You!” He jabbed a finger at the speedster. “You set this up! You set ME up!”

The heroes took fighting stances, but Superman took a step forward, blocking them from Danny. “What are you talking about?”

“Okay okay.” He was trying to calm down his anger, but he had been told by Green Lantern in the past that he had inherited the man’s anger issues. “Let me start at the beginning. This is going to be a long story, you might want to take a seat.”

Nobody moved, but everyone was tense.

“Or not. Okay. So my creation starts with Lex Luthor.” He noticed Superman stiffen. “He used me as his trial, if you will. Once he got a successful attempt at cloning—me—he moved onto his real target. Cloning Superman.” Danny’s green eyes hovered onto Superman’s blue ones. “He was successful.”

“What happened?” Superman’s voice was unnaturally quiet.

“Well, at first, Conner wasn’t showing that he had all the powers of Superman. So Lex tossed him aside and tried again. The second attempt was more successful than the first. But cloning Kryptonian dna was hard, I guess.” He shrugged. “The second clone lacked basic emotions. Empathy, remorse… it made him the perfect little weapon for Lex. But eventually, the clone’s anger and Lex’s greed got to a point of no return. Lex was elected President of the United States and uh…you can probably see where this is going, right? While the fighting hadn’t like…’officially’ started,” He used his fingers to create air quotes around the word ‘officially’, “Things were getting tense. See, we couldn’t take the clone down because Lex had wrote out the Kryptonite deficiency out of his weakness. And the clone had all the strength of Superman and none of his remorse…”

Superman looked pale. “I see.”

“So Flash and I came up with a plan.” He turned back to his father, “We were going to travel into the next dimension for help. From what we could tell, that dimension was full of god-like beings, and one of them actually helped me out earlier! But for a lot of them, they ask for a price for their help. But anyway, Flash and I were going to take our case to the King and plead for help. I was waiting for Flash when the timeline reset and I found out that not only did I not exist, but I was nine years too early.”

“What are you going to do now?” Green Lantern asked.

“Dunno,” His voice dropped as the reality hit him. He wasn’t going home—his home didn’t exist anymore.

[mostlysignssomeportents]

A year in illustration, 2023 edition (part one)

(This is part one; part two is here.)

I am objectively very bad at visual art. I am bad at vision, period – I'm astigmatic, shortsighted, color blind, and often miss visual details others see. I can't even draw a stick-figure. To top things off, I have cataracts in both eyes and my book publishing/touring schedule is so intense that I keep having to reschedule the surgeries. But despite my vast visual deficits, I thoroughly enjoy making collages for this blog.

For many years now – decades – I've been illustrating my blog posts by mixing public domain and Creative Commons art with work that I can make a good fair use case for. As bad as art as I may be, all this practice has paid off. Call it unseemly, but I think I'm turning out some terrific illustrations – not all the time, but often enough.

Last year, I rounded up my best art of the year:

https://pluralistic.net/2022/12/25/a-year-in-illustration/

And I liked reflecting on the year's art so much, I decided I'd do it again. Be sure to scroll to the bottom for some downloadables – freely usable images that I painstakingly cut up with the lasso tool in The Gimp.

The original AD&D hardcover cover art is seared into my psyche. For several years, there were few images I looked at so closely as these. When Hasbro pulled some world-beatingly sleazy stuff with the Open Gaming License, I knew just how to mod Dave Trampier's 'Eve Of Moloch' from the cover of the Players' Handbook. Thankfully, bigger nerds than me have identified all the fonts in the image, making the remix a doddle.

https://pluralistic.net/2023/01/12/beg-forgiveness-ask-permission/#whats-a-copyright-exception

Even though I don't keep logs or collect any analytics, I can say with confidence that "Tiktok's Enshittification" was the most popular thing I published on Pluralistic this year. I mixed some public domain Brother's Grimm art, mixed with a classic caricature of Boss Tweed, and some very cheesy royalty-free/open access influencer graphics. One gingerbread cottage social media trap, coming up:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/01/21/potemkin-ai/#hey-guys

To illustrate the idea of overcoming walking-the-plank fear (as a metaphor for writing when it feels like you suck) I mixed public domain stock of a plank, a high building and legs, along with a procedurally generated Matrix "code waterfall" and a vertiginous spiral ganked from a Heinz Bunse photo of a German office lobby.

https://pluralistic.net/2023/01/22/walking-the-plank/

Finding a tasteful way to illustrate a story about Johnson & Johnson losing a court case after it spent a generation tricking women into dusting their vulvas with asbestos-tainted talcum was a challenge. The tulip (featured in many public domain images) was a natural starting point. I mixed it with Jesse Wagstaff's image of a Burning Man dust-storm and Mike Mozart's shelf-shot of a J&J talcum bottle.

https://pluralistic.net/2023/02/01/j-and-j-jk/#risible-gambit

"Google's Chatbot Panic" is about Google's long history of being stampeded into doing stupid things because its competitors are doing them. Once it was Yahoo, now it's Bing. Tenniel's Tweedle Dee and Dum were a good starting point. I mixed in one of several Humpty Dumpty editorial cartoon images from 19th century political coverage that I painstakingly cut out with the lasso tool on a long plane-ride. This is one of my favorite Humpties, I just love the little 19th C businessmen trying to keep him from falling! I finished it off with HAL 9000's glowing red eye, my standard 'this is about AI' image, which I got from Cryteria's CC-licensed SVG.

https://pluralistic.net/2023/02/16/tweedledumber/#easily-spooked

Though I started writing about Luddites in my January, 2022 Locus column, 2023 was the Year of the Luddite, thanks to Brian Merchant's outstanding Blood In the Machine:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/09/26/enochs-hammer/#thats-fronkonsteen

When it came time to illustrate "Gig Work Is the Opposite of Steampunk," I found a public domain weaver's loft, and put one of Cryteria's HAL9000 eyes in the window. Magpie Killjoy's Steampunk Magazine poster, 'Love the Machine, Hate the Factory,' completed the look.

https://pluralistic.net/2023/03/12/gig-work-is-the-opposite-of-steampunk/

For the "small, non-profit school" that got used as an excuse to bail out Silicon Valley Bank, I brought back Humpty Dumpty, mixing him with a Hogwartsian castle, a brick wall texture, and an ornate, gilded frame. I love how this one came out. This Humpty was made for the SVB bailout.

https://pluralistic.net/2023/03/23/small-nonprofit-school/#north-country-school

The RESTRICT Act would have federally banned Tiktok – a proposal that was both technically unworkable and unconstitutional. I found an early 20th century editorial cartoon depicting Uncle Sam behind a fortress wall that was keeping a downtrodden refugee family out of America. I got rid of most of the family, giving the dad a Tiktok logo head, and I put Cryteria's HAL9000 eyes over each cannonmouth. Three Boss Tweed moneybag-head caricatures, adorned with Big Tech logos, rounded it out.

https://pluralistic.net/2023/03/30/tik-tok-tow/#good-politics-for-electoral-victories

When Flickr took decisive action to purge the copyleft trolls who'd been abusing its platform, I knew I wanted to illustrate this with Lucifer being cast out of heaven, and the very best one of those comes from John Milton, who is conveniently well in the public domain. The Flickr logo suggested a bicolored streaming-light-of-heaven motif that just made it.

https://pluralistic.net/2023/04/01/pixsynnussija/#pilkunnussija

Old mainframe ads are a great source of stock for a "Computer Says No" image. And Congress being a public building, there are lots of federal (and hence public domain) images of its facade.

https://pluralistic.net/2023/04/04/cbo-says-no/#wealth-tax

When I wrote about the Clarence Thomas/Harlan Crow bribery scandal, it was easy to find Mr. Kjetil Ree's great image of the Supreme Court building. Thomas being a federal judge, it was easy to find a government photo of his head, but it's impossible to find an image of him in robes at a decent resolution. Luckily, there are tons of other federal judges who've been photographed in their robes! Boss Tweed with the dollar-sign head was a great stand-in for Harlan Crow (no one knows what he looks like anyway). Gilding Thomas's robes was a simple matter of superimposing a gold texture and twiddling with the layers.

https://pluralistic.net/2023/04/06/clarence-thomas/#harlan-crow

"Gig apps trap reverse centaurs in wage-stealing Skinner boxes" is one of my best titles. This is the post where I introduce the idea of "twiddling" as part of the theory of enshittification, and explain how it relates to "reverse centaurs" – people who assist machines, rather than the other way around. Finding a CC licensed modular synth was much harder than I thought, but I found Stephen Drake's image and stitched it into a mandala. Cutting out the horse's head for the reverse centaur was a lot of work (manes are a huuuuge pain in the ass), but I love how his head sits on the public domain high-viz-wearing warehouse worker's body I cut up (thanks, OSHA!). Seeing as this is an horrors-of-automation story, Cryteria's HAL9000 eyes make an appearance.

https://pluralistic.net/2023/04/12/algorithmic-wage-discrimination/#fishers-of-men

Rockefeller's greatest contribution to our culture was inspiring many excellent unflattering caricatures. The IWW's many-fists-turning-into-one-fist image made it easy to have the collective might of workers toppling the original robber-baron.

https://pluralistic.net/2023/04/14/aiming-at-dollars/#not-men

I link to this post explaining how to make good Mastodon threads at least once a week, so it's a good thing the graphic turned out so well. Close-cropping the threads from a public domain yarn tangle worked out great. Eugen Rochko's Mastodon logo was and is the only Affero-licensed image ever to appear on Pluralistic.

https://pluralistic.net/2023/04/16/how-to-make-the-least-worst-mastodon-threads/

I spent hours on the sofa one night painstakingly cutting up and reassembling the cover art from a science fiction pulp. I have a folder full of color-corrected, high-rez scans from an 18th century anatomy textbook, and the cross-section head-and-brain is the best of the lot.

https://pluralistic.net/2023/05/04/analytical-democratic-theory/#epistocratic-delusions

Those old French anatomical drawings are an endless source of delight to me. Take one cross-sectioned noggin, mix in an old PC mainboard, and a vector art illo of a virtuous cycle with some of Cryteria's HAL9000 eyes and you've got a great illustration of Google's brain-worms.

https://pluralistic.net/2023/05/14/googles-ai-hype-circle/

Ireland's privacy regulator is but a plaything in Big Tech's hand, but it's goddamned hard to find an open-access Garda car. I manually dressed some public domain car art in Garda livery, painstakingly tracing it over the panels. The (public domain) baby's knit cap really hides the seams from replacing the baby's head with HAL9000's eye.

https://pluralistic.net/2023/05/15/finnegans-snooze/#dirty-old-town

Naked-guy-in-a-barrel bankruptcy images feel like something you can find in an old Collier's or Punch, but I came up snake-eyes and ended up frankensteining a naked body into a barrel for the George Washington crest on the Washington State flag. It came out well, but harvesting the body parts from old muscle-beach photos left George with some really big guns. I tried five different pairs of suspenders here before just drawing in black polyhedrons with little grey dots for rivets.

https://pluralistic.net/2023/06/03/when-the-tide-goes-out/#passive-income

Illustrating Amazon's dominance over the EU coulda been easy – just stick Amazon 'A's in place of the yellow stars that form a ring on the EU flag. So I decided to riff on Plutarch's Alexander, out of lands to conquer. Rama's statue legs were nice and high-rez. I had my choice of public domain ruin images, though it was harder thank expected to find a good Amazon box as a plinth for those broken-off legs.

https://pluralistic.net/2023/06/14/flywheel-shyster-and-flywheel/#unfulfilled-by-amazon

God help me, I could not stop playing with this image of a demon-haunted IoT car. All those reflections! The knife sticking out of the steering wheel, the multiple Munsch 'Scream'ers, etc etc. The more I patchked with it, the better it got, though. This one's a banger.

https://pluralistic.net/2023/07/24/rent-to-pwn/#kitt-is-a-demon

To depict a "data-driven dictatorship," I ganked elements of heavily beribboned Russian military dress uniforms, replacing the head with HAL9000's eye. I turned the foreground into the crowds from the Nuremberg rallies and filled the sky with Matrix code waterfall.

https://pluralistic.net/2023/07/26/dictators-dilemma/#garbage-in-garbage-out-garbage-back-in

The best thing about analogizing DRM to demonic possession is the wealth of medieval artwork to choose from . This one comes from the 11th century 'Compendium rarissimum totius Artis Magicae sistematisatae per celeberrimos Artis hujus Magistros.' I mixed in the shiny red Tesla (working those reflections!), and a Tesla charger to make my point.

https://pluralistic.net/2023/07/28/edison-not-tesla/#demon-haunted-world

Yet more dividends from those old French anatomical plates: a flayed skull, a detached jaw, a quack electronic gadget, a Wachowski code waterfall and some HAL 9000 eyes and you've got a truly unsettling image of machine-compelled speech.

https://pluralistic.net/2023/08/02/self-incrimination/#wei-bai-bai

I had no idea this would work out so well, but daaaamn, crossfading between a Wachowski code waterfall and a motherboard behind a roiling thundercloud is dank af.

https://pluralistic.net/2023/08/03/there-is-no-cloud/#only-other-peoples-computers

Of all the turkeys-voting-for-Christmas self-owns conservative culture warriors fall for, few can rival the "banning junk fees is woke" hustle. Slap a US-flag Punisher logo on and old-time card imprinter, add a GOP logo to a red credit-card blank, and then throw in a rustic barn countertop and you've got a junk-fee extracter fit for the Cracker Barrel.

https://pluralistic.net/2023/08/04/owning-the-libs/#swiper-no-swiping

Putting the Verizon logo on the Hinderberg was an obvious gambit (even if I did have to mess with the flames a lot), but the cutout of Paul Marcarelli as the 'can you hear me now?' guy, desaturated and contrast-matched, made it sing.

https://pluralistic.net/2023/08/10/smartest-guys-in-the-room/#can-you-hear-me-now

Note to self: Tux the Penguin is really easy to source in free/open formats! He looks great with HAL9000 eyes.

https://pluralistic.net/2023/08/18/openwashing/#you-keep-using-that-word-i-do-not-think-it-means-what-you-think-it-means

Rockwell's self-portrait image is a classic; that made it a natural for a HAL9000-style remix about AI art. I put a bunch of time into chopping and remixing Rockwell's signature to give it that AI look, and added as many fingers as would fit on each hand.

https://pluralistic.net/2023/08/20/everything-made-by-an-ai-is-in-the-public-domain/

(Images: Heinz Bunse, West Midlands Police, Christopher Sessums, CC BY-SA 2.0; Mike Mozart, Jesse Wagstaff, Stephen Drake, Steve Jurvetson, syvwlch, Doc Searls, https://www.flickr.com/photos/mosaic36/14231376315, Chatham House, CC BY 2.0; Cryteria, CC BY 3.0; Mr. Kjetil Ree, Trevor Parscal, Rama, “Soldiers of Russia” Cultural Center, Russian Airborne Troops Press Service, CC BY-SA 3.0; Raimond Spekking, CC BY 4.0; Drahtlos, CC BY-SA 4.0; Eugen Rochko, Affero; modified)

[supercap2319]

after clark gets brought back to life he forgets everything even y/n, so he attacks y/n and after a long and close fight y/n gets hurt which jogs clark’s memory and he instantly rushes to y/n aid

Y/N knew the consequences of bringing Clark back to life, and at the time, he didn't care. He was willing to pay it in full to have the love of his life back in his arms again, despite Arthur's warnings. They had used the Kryptonian ship and Flash's lightning to resurrect Superman like Frankenstein, but so much more deadly than a monster with bolts on the sides of his neck.

Clark flew to the broken Superman monument. His reasoning? Y/N wasn't sure. All that matters is that Clark was back, and Y/N couldn't be happier until Clark viewed them as threats. It also didn't help matters when Victor fired a missile shot at Clark because his weapon defense systems sensed danger in Clark. It was true.

Despite Y/N and Diana protesting for him not to do it, Clark attacked Victor with his heat vision and almost injured a cop in the process. They tried to go on the defensive side and restraint the Kryptonian, but Clark's immense strength was stronger than all theirs combined. Nothing was strong enough. Not Diana's lasso or the Flash's speed. Clark bested them all. And when it came down to it, he walked towards Y/N and Batman.

Y/N didn't want to fight his boyfriend, but he wasn't going to let him kill anyone. "Please don't make me do this, Clark." Y/N begs.

Clark said nothing, which made him so much more menacing and scary.

Y/N had no choice. He tried to summon a blast of magic. This would hopefully work, but Clark must have sensed his attack because he super sped towards him and grabbed Y/N's arms and held them out the side.

A headbutt to the head hurt like a bitch and Y/N grimaced at the pain, but he headbutted the Kryptonian back, which only served to piss Clark off even more. He threw a lightning fast punch at Y/N's face, and a battle ensued.

Y/N believed that he was on Clark's level. That he could match him in a fight, and it was only then did Y/N realize one horrible thing: Clark had been pulling his punches. All those times Y/N beat Clark in their sparring matches were just his way of making Y/N feel better. Now he realized Clark could kick Y/N's ass whenever he wanted, and right, he was giving him an asswhoopin.

Blurs of punches that hit like bricks all over his face and body as Y/N struggled to stand up after the torrent of attacks. He looked up at Clark as he knocked Y/N to the ground, the cement breaking down around him.

And when Clark stood over him, eyes glowing red to finish it; Y/N began to cry. He cried tears of sadness, pain, frustration, and fear. Fear of Clark, and fear of dying before he got him back. "Clark, please? I love you."

And when that single tear dropped down Y/N's face, everything came rushing back to Clark. His life. His parents. Y/N. He gasped and hid blue eyes widened with surprise and guilt. "Y/N?" He picked him up. "I'm so sorry." He hugged him close and flew them away.

[widowsistersandfriends]

Lasso of Tickle Truth

Summary: You are Wonder Woman's most evenly matched enemy, but she has a combination of ways to win.

Note: This was just an idea swirling in my head, and I apologize if some of the details about her aren't portrayed that well! Thank you for your patience!

Word Count: 1133

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

You stumbled into a run-down shed, desperate for any hiding place. You were finally out of view from an ongoing chase with your arch nemesis: Wonder Woman. You two were in constant battles, trying to defeat the other once and for all. Your current heist was to steal a sacred document that was too important to lose. You were successful in this task, but were too late in escaping before being seen. This is how you were in the position you were in now.

You breathed heavily, fleeing by car and then foot. It was dark in the shed, a place that probably hadn’t been visited in decades. A wood chip fell off the ceiling, startling you. You silently cursed, knowing that you needed all the help you needed. Having things fall apart only meant more noise to be made and a higher chance of you being found. 

You heard footsteps outside, getting closer by the minute. You held your breath, hoping it was any random bystander. Anyone but her. 

“Sorry I’m late,” you heard, just outside of the shed. You scooted in as far as you could, trying to disappear in the darkness.

“Not gonna speak?” Wonder Woman asked.

Your eyes widened when you saw a golden glow appear outside of the shed. If she used her lasso of truth on you, you knew you were done for. She would find out where you hid the document. All of that planning to escape would be wasted.

There was a moment of silence, and you were unsure of what you should do next. You were too scared of what her next move would be.

After a moment, the flimsy door to the shed flew open, revealing the superhero and her lasso in front of you. You backed up against the wall, knowing that you were stuck. You felt around in the darkness for a secret back door. Your hand felt the shape of a knob and quickly turned it to open the door. You pushed it open and sprinted out, not getting very far before her lasso was roped around your torso.

You fell to the ground, struggling to get out, as she quickly caught up, pinning you to the ground. 

“Well well well, what do we have here?” Wonder Woman asked, raising an eyebrow. With the lasso of truth around you. Luckily for you, your power was a strong ability to fight against this.

“N-noth-ing,” you struggled to say.

“I know you stole the sacred document. You’re not going to fool me,” she said, smirking down at you.

You turned your head away, refusing to fall for her trap.

“I can fight your silly lasso you know,” you spat back at her while glowering.

Her eyes narrowed slightly, and it felt as if you were two siblings fighting rather than two arch enemies. 

“Maybe I’ll need something a little more powerful then hmm?” Wonder Woman suggested. With the lasso still around your torso and arms, she began to tickle your sides.

“NOHOHO NOHOT THAHAHAT,” you shouted, knowing that this is one thing you could never defend against. Especially when you were stuck in her lasso.

“What’s this? The big bad schemer is ticklish? Who would’ve thought this was how you were gonna lose…” she commented with a grin.

“AHAHAHAHA IHIHI WOHOHONT LOHOHOSE,” you squealed, as her fingers moved up to scratch away in and around your ribs. 

“You may be able to fight the lasso pretty well, but combining it with tickling will make you spill for sure,” she said, now taking her finger and wiggling it in your belly button.

You shrieked, bucking so hard that you were able to flip onto your side, desperately trying to protect your sensitive giggle button.

“Awww does that tickle? Is that what this button does? It makes you laugh?” She asked, repeatedly poking into it, causing you to scream for her to stop.

“Tell me.” She demanded.

You were weakened by the tickles, and the lasso of truth was getting more and more difficult to fight against.

“N-never!” You barely said, as she flipped you back to your original position, face up.

“We’ll see about that. You know the thing is, I have intel on all of my enemies. I happen to know a little someone has very ticklish feet,” she said with a wicked grin and sat on your shins.

“NO! DONT YOU DAHAHAHARE,” you laughed while screaming and thrashing around. You desperately tried to take the lasso off, but Wonder Woman was quick, turning around and squeezing your hips, making you collapse again with a squeal.

With that, she continued to rake her nails over your sensitive soles, holding your toes back and tickling underneath.

“OHOHOKAY IHIHI GIHIHIVE,” you shouted, as she slowed her evil fingers.

“Speak now or forever hold your peace,” she said with a wink. You squirmed uncomfortably, before blurting out the location when she gave your knee a squeeze.

“IHIHIN THE HEHEADQUARTERS,” you squealed out.

“Thanks for the confirmation,” she said with a smirk.

“What do you mean?!?” You asked.

“Oh I figured, but at the same time it’s always fun to pick you apart,” she replied, as you flopped backwards with an eye roll.

“It is so funny though that you’re so weak to tickles,” she commented, gently flipping you over and tickling your back and neck while you were still in her lasso.

“NOHOHOOHO PLEHEHEHEASE IHIHIVE HAHAHAD ENOHOUGH,” you squealed, turning bright red.

“It’s fun messing with someone who’s supposed to be equally matched with me,” she said, now letting you out of her lasso. You quickly tried to yank it, wanting to expose her secrets. However, it backfired as she gave it a much stronger yank, as she captured you and tickled up and down your sides. You entered yet again another fit of laughter, smacking her to tap out. You cursed yourself for this evil weakness. But being human, you knew she had to be ticklish as well.

“Oh big bad Wonder Woman~are you ticklish?” You asked, before tackling her and pinning her arms above her head.

“I’m not even touching you yet,” you teased, as she was already giggling like crazy. With that, you used your free hand to tickle her armpits, letting her experience the torture you just went through. You blew a big raspberry on her stomach while tickling her sides, which got a great reaction.

You finally let her up, knowing how bad it was.

“Maybe we have more in common than we thought. Shall we team up?” Wonder Woman asked jokingly.

“Yeah we should just go and use tickling as our new power,” you joked in reply.

“Oh I know you’d love to stay the villain though,” she teased, as you avoided eye contact and blushed.

“Knew it.”

—————————————————————————

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[danistartt]

When Worlds Collide (it is Wonderful)- Dani Rojas

pairings: dani rojas x reader, the richmond team warnings: nervous reader, language about: request! dani introducing you to the team

Dani is ecstatic. He’s been ecstatic for three days and pre-ecstatic for two, grinning at you brazenly when he remembers today.

You… aren’t, so much.

You should’ve told him, you think as he leads you inside the Richmond building, chattering away excitedly about each member of the team. He mentions how nice Sam is and you’re reminded of how much he loves them. You stop abruptly, Dani tugging on your arm when he fails to notice.

He turns back to you and cocks his head in the sweet puppy way he does, saying your name in question. “Is something wrong?”

“I’m nervous,” you blurt.

“I thought you were excited?” he asks, stepping closer. You stare up at him worriedly and squeeze his hand.

“I was. I am. I want to meet them, they’re important to you, but that’s why I’m so nervous, too.” Your eyes round in concern. “What if they hate me? They’re a big part of your life and if they hate me, I—”

“Why would they hate you?” he wonders incredulously. “Mi amor, I do not think anyone could hate you.”

“But what if they do?” you insist. “What if I’m actually awful and I’ve trapped you with my siren song without even knowing?” you whimper.

“No,” Dani murmurs, wrapping his arms around you. You melt on contact, the unbelievable heat of him immensely comforting. “You do not have a siren song. And if you do, then I do not mind. They will love you.”

“You don’t know that.”

“I do. I talk about you all the time and I love you. If they are not at least a little in love with you already, I will be surprised.” Dani smiles at your stilted laugh. “They told me they were excited to meet you.”

“I don’t want to disappoint them. Or you.”

Dani pulls away to make sure you’re looking him in the eyes. “You could not. Even if you tried really, really hard.”

Your face crumples.

Dani panics. “Did I say something?”

“Yes,” you cry, pulling him back to you. You raise a hand up to your eyes and wipe away your fear. Taking a deep breath, you nod. “I’m ready,” you tell him, standing up straight and squaring your shoulders.

“Wonderful,” he says pleasantly, picking right back up where he left off. “Coach Roy screams a lot, but he is very kind. He has a niece named Phoebe who he brought one day and gave us all friendship bracelets.” His own drags against the hand he holds, a bubblegum bead at the end of thick string bouncing on your wrist. “Jamie, of course, is my best friend.”

You laugh. “I can’t wait to meet them all.”

“I cannot wait either,” he says, very nearly bouncing on his heels. “This is like two of my favorite worlds colliding into one big, even more wonderful world.”

You chortle, squeezing his hand.

“All the coaches are there. Coach Lasso was very excited about meeting you. I think he got cupcakes.”

“Really?” you ask.

“I talk about you a lot.”

Another squeeze, desperate to send a loving spark up his arm. You think it reaches when he squeezes back.

You both pause outside the door, staring at the doorknob. Dani buzzes in your hand, but he glances up at you, soft eyes wonderful and kind. “Do not worry, okay? Javier is much tougher than them and he liked you a lot.”

You nod. “Yeah. Yeah, you’re right.”

When Dani pushes the door open, you are not prepared for the silence. You expect what you think is common of a locker room—loud guy noises, strewn exhausted footballers. Instead, you find all the thirty-something footballers standing straight in a very organized line, the coaches standing in front of what you assume is the office. One holds a small, pink box in his hands, a carton of cupcakes against his hip.

“Hello,” you say awkwardly, glancing at each face that stares back at you.

“Dani!” One bellows happily. “We were waitin’ for ya, bruv.”

“Yeah,” another chimes, “we was standin’ here for, like, five minutes.”

“Good impressions,” one at the far end chimes in.

Dani is glowing, agreeing with everything they’re saying. “This is my amor,” he says proudly, presenting you to the team. They stare for a second before the room erupts in elated noise, men coming up to you to tell you varying introductions. You catch some names and recognize some faces, trying your best to keep up with each person.

“Oi!” Someone yells, the team quieting and parting for the source of the voice. Low, bushy brows atop a dark beard introduce you to Roy. “Will we show some fucking manners?” He smiles at you a little gruffly and offers you a hand, the blue tail of a bracelet matching Dani’s swinging lightly against your wrist. “I’m Roy.”

“I’ve heard,” you reply, accepting. His handshake is as firm as you’d expect.

“So’ve we,” he tells you.

“Hi there,” Treats Man says, peeking over Roy’s shoulder with a friendly wave. “I’m Ted. That’s Coach Beard over there.” He gestures to a man off to the side, arms crossed across his chest. He offers you a nod. “We hear you’re with our little ray of sunshine, huh?”

You’re inclined to agree. “I’ve heard a lot. About everyone. I didn’t expect such a… big hello. Dani said I’d just come by after practice and put some voices to faces.”

“Nah. We showered and everythin’,” a player says proudly. “Isaac said we should.”

The man who had first spoken ducked his chin in agreement.

“Thank you,” you laugh.

“Are you impressed?” a man with short hair asks.

“Definitely.”

They all cheer, must to Roy’s dismay.

Dani takes this as a cue to start speaking, pointing players out and telling you their names. Sam smiles at you warmly and gives you a hug. Jamie nods at you, Colin tells you about one of the things Dani’d said about you, Moe kisses your hand, and Zoreaux says Dani hadn’t done you justice. Even Rebecca Welton comes down to meet you, offering free box seats for the next game. 

You become very well aware that the team may already know you better than you had thought. Dani seems pleased about this fact. You can’t find it in yourself to be upset.

At the end of the meet, you realize every member of the team wears a colorful bracelet. You kind of can’t wait to get yours.

[alwritey-aphrodite]

Paint The Town Blue

Chapter Five of There’s Nothing Like This

Series Masterlist

Pairing: Jamie Tartt x fem!footballer!reader

Warnings: drinking

Word Count: 2.9k

Author’s Note: I love how every Ted Lasso fic series has a gala chapter, we’re so cute like that

The rest of the week passes in a blur of glittering gowns and sweaty training sessions, face masks and bruises. It was surprisingly easy to find a dress for the gala, and you settle on something simple enough so you can hopefully wear it again after looking at the price tag. Training is rough, and you leave every day wondering how you’re able to walk, but your mood had improved considerably after Monday’s episode.

By the time Thursday morning rolls around, you’re nothing more than a bundle of nerves, terrified for the match and the gala and what everyone is going to think of you. You’d always assumed that people’s opinions of you wouldn’t affect you as much as what you think about yourself, but now that seemingly everyone has something negative to say, it’s starting to wear you down. It’s like there are two different forces propelling you forward: one that wants to win and one that needs to prove everyone wrong.

You know your teammates feel the same way.

The dressing room is thrumming with energy and tension about to snap, all of you primed and ready for the match ahead. Your nervous energy has peaked and dissipated after spending time in the dressing room, laughing and smiling with your teammates while you prepare, securing your hair back and waiting for one of the coaches to give the pre-match pep talk even though you’re paying more attention to readying yourself mentally than anything that comes out of their mouths, and you leave the dressing room feeling ready for whatever happens on the pitch.

When you return to the dressing room ninety minutes later, it’s to the jubilant singing of your teammates. It’d been a harsh fight, but you managed to score in the seventieth minute to secure a 1-0 win, pushing you higher in the standings.

“Oi!” Roy breaks through the revelry, “Don’t get too shit-faced tonight, you still have training tomorrow.”

“And free drinks tomorrow night!” Keeley adds as she enters the dressing room, causing another wave of fanfare to erupt, more for the woman herself than her statement.

“So maybe we push off the celebration?” Elena offers, and even though she’s met with a chorus of booing, you all eventually agree that tonight will be for resting and tomorrow can be for celebrating while bringing attention to whatever charity is at the center of the gala.

As much as you want to bask in the glow of the win, you change out of your kit as fast as possible, already dreaming about the warm shower waiting for you at home. Maybe you’ll treat yourself to some takeout instead of whatever leftover meal prep is sitting in your fridge. You say your goodbyes to the girls, congratulating Naomi, your goalkeeper, on all her amazing saves as you leave the dressing room to wait for Mackie in the hallway, where it’s cooler and less crowded and you can breathe deeply for the first time in ninety minutes.

Checking your phone, you see a text from Jamie and are a little embarrassed at how quickly you open it.

Congrats on the win!! You played great today, might have to ask you for some pointers

You hate the way you smile down at your phone as you type a response, reminding yourself that Jamie is your friend and a new one at that.

Thanks! Are you sure you could even handle any more training?

The three little dots appear as Mackie leaves the dressing room, so you close your phone and slip it into your pocket as quickly as possible. Knowing Mackie, she would make everything into a big deal, and you didn’t want to ruin one of your first friendships in Richmond outside of the team just because Mackie loves jumping to conclusions.

Driving home with Mackie is always the perfect way to end your evenings, she always knows if you want quiet or talking or hype music or relaxing music, and even when you don’t talk it’s wonderful to know you have someone next to you. Today, she’s a chatterbox, going on and on about all the calls she thought should have been fouls or yellow cards.

By the time she’s dropping you off, you’re laughing so hard there are tears pouring out of your eyes and you never want to spend a moment apart from her ever again.

“Alright, get out, I wanna go to bed,” Mackie says through the remnants of her laughter, pushing at your shoulder until you leave the car.

Your evening plans are very similar to Mackie’s, and you order takeout before you take a long, hot shower to relax your muscles that had gone into overdrive before you slip into your bed and turn on mind numbing television while you scroll through your phone. You text back and forth with Jamie for a while, confirming that he’s coming to the charity event Keeley has planned for Friday and he tells you that he’s pretty sure Keeley stuck you at the same table as him.

It’s terrifying how nervous that makes you feel, nervous like you’re about to hit the peak of a roller coaster or walk down the aisle in a white gown.

When you wake in the morning, it’s after a solid eight hours of sleep where you were plagued by the strangest dreams of weddings and fancy dresses and cars driven by Jamie Tartt. As odd as your dreams were, it was the best sleep you’d gotten since you arrived in Richmond and you’re finally starting to feel less keyed up.

Training is easy as well, and most of your day is spent reviewing game footage and reevaluating certain tactics and laughing so much you’re a little bit worried you’re going to pee yourself. As serious as you all can be, as anxious as everyone is on match day, it’s hard to feel anything but joy when you’re surrounded by your team and you’re riding high on the win from yesterday and the promise of free booze later.

As everyone’s packing up and showing pictures of dresses and shoes and hairstyles, Keeley pops in, clearly looking frazzled.

“Remember to be on our best behavior, yeah? At least until all the old people get tired and go home,” she smiles then, and you just wish you could tell her that tonight will be perfect and have her believe you.

Your training ended at the same time as the men’s team, giving everyone ample time to get ready for the gala, and you pretend to ignore the way Mackie stares at you when you wave goodbye to Jamie. She drops you off, promising to pick you up at seven and you know she’s refraining from making a joke about you finding a “better date” with a certain striker and you’re grateful for her self control.

When you finally make your way inside, all the stress and pressure from the week, from the month, come crashing down around you but you do your best to work through it, knowing you have a weekend full of absolutely nothing to look forward to. You take your time getting ready, luxuriating in the shower and spending longer than you ever have on your hair and makeup, the threat of a red carpet and paparazzi making bile rise in your throat.

Still, you manage to finish getting ready before Mackie arrives, giving you plenty of time to marinate in your own self doubt and anxiety. Never in your life have you needed to attend an event like this, let alone an event when most of the attention will be on you and your teammates. All you hope is that everything goes smoothly, for your sake and for Keeley’s. You know it’s eating at her how poorly received the women’s team has been, and you know she needs a win from the press.

Hopefully tonight goes well and she raises lots of money for charity before getting absolutely shitfaced with the Greyhounds.

As expected, Mackie arrives right on time, looking absolutely stunning in the suit you’d picked out together on Tuesday. She gives a wolf whistle as you lock your front door and make your way to the car, pausing to give her a little spin so she could see the dress, and you, in all its glory. You’ve never been one for fancy dresses, but Mackie’s reaction makes you think you should dress up more.

The drive to the venue only serves to give your anxiety time to grow, despite the gentle way Mackie tries to distract you with her talks of nonsense. Throughout your years of friendship, she’s always done her best to support you through events and nights like these, even though standing in the spotlight has always come naturally to her. By the time you slip out of the car and spot the photographers and the carpet and the rest of your teammates, you’re on the verge of throwing up and considering making a run for it when Mackie grabs you gently by the arm and steers you towards the carpet.

Finding your team waiting to get their pictures taken, you’re met with excited shouts and whistles and expletives as you and Mackie approach, as if they’re not also dressed to the nines and looking more beautiful than anyone you’ve ever seen. There are a few of the men’s players hanging around and chatting with your teammates, but they usher you forward onto the carpet, letting your team bask in the spotlight for once.

Mackie, as if sensing the anxiety radiating off of you in waves, grabs your hand and pulls you forward, stopping and posing with you until you make it safely to the other side of the carpet. Already overwhelmed, you simply squeeze her hand in silent thanks before dropping it as you make your way inside, dazzled by Keeley’s hard work and dedication.

The entire space is transformed, and what was before an empty, boring ballroom is covered in silver twinkling stars and ambient lighting and a sea of tables complete with numbers and place cards. Keeley truly never ceases to amaze you, and the fact that she could pull all of this off while working at her own PR company and helping to run the Greyhounds’ social media is mind boggling to you. As much as you want to tell her how great of a job she’s done, you can see her bouncing around from table to table and you can’t even imagine the stress she’s under, so you promise yourself you’ll tell her later.

When you finally find your table in the sea of others, Jamie, Colin, and Isaac are already sitting down, and the way Jamie smiles when he notices you makes you feel a little bit dizzy.

“Well, now it’s a party!” Colin says when he glances up and sees Mackie after noticing the spaced-out look that had appeared on Jamie’s face, and he stands to get everyone a drink. Your seat, apparently, is right next to Jamie, and you have to wonder if Keeley had planned it that way or if someone might have meddled.

By the forced look of nonchalance on Isaac’s face, you’re guessing it’s the second one.

“You look really nice,” Jamie says as he scrambles to pull your chair out, and you shamelessly let your eyes rove up and down his body, taking in the way his dark trousers hug his thighs and the exposed skin of his chest underneath his mostly unbuttoned shirt. Friends are allowed to admire how their friends look, you tell yourself, forcing the word ‘friend’ into your brain over and over again.

“So do you,” you tell him truthfully as you take a seat, and your heart flutters a little as his cheeks redden slightly.

The chatter throughout the room and the music playing softly creates a gentle hum in the background, but you’re not paying attention to anything except your table. Colin’s boyfriend, Micheal, was giving you all an earful about all the pains of dating a footballer, and between the way he’s cracking jokes and the drink you’d all but pounded to calm your nerves, you’re laughing harder than you have in ages. Lucky for you, your entire table seems to be in a similar position and the tables around you are so wrapped up in their own conversations that no one notices your rambunctious group.

After the food is served, though, you all manage to calm down to respectable levels, preparing yourselves for the long, drawn out auction that’s to come. Keeley is still fluttering around, and she stops by your table shortly after the entrees. She’s grinning, but you can tell she’s more than anxious from the way she keeps asking if everyone’s having a good time.

“Everything’s great, it’s beautiful in here,” you tell her, casting a glance around the room to look at the decor again.

“You guys look beautiful!” She counters, a genuine smile taking over her face and you just hope that the charity portion of the event is over soon so she can enjoy herself.

“Go eat!” You shoo her away, and you see Rebecca send you a wink out of the corner of her eye when she comes to steer Keeley back to her table.

Almost as soon as the plates are cleared away, Rebecca is thanking everyone for coming and thanking Keeley for planning such a beautiful night before beginning to auction off signed kits and match balls and VIP tickets for the rest of the season. You’re not sure if everyone’s been making good use out of the open bar or if the event is always this successful, but those items go for more money than you would have ever imagined.

While a few other guests continue to chat and sit by the bar to savor one last free drink, much of the remaining crowd works at Nelson Road in some capacity, and by the way Keeley glances around the room from her spot by the door, thanking everyone for coming as they leave, she’s clearly waiting for something.

Once it looks like the last guest has left, leaving behind the Greyhounds, Keeley takes to the stage, finally looking relaxed and bouncy and ready to party.

“Thank you guys for your good behavior,” she says to the crowd, and you all cheer back at her, “now let’s fucking party!”

If everyone had cheered for the first part of her sentence, then everyone was going crazy now, yelling so loud your ears hurt a little. The tables were all pushed away and some apparently famous DJ took the stage, and then it was time for a night of drinks and dancing with your friends, the perfect way to celebrate your win from yesterday and Keeley’s successful charity event.

Despite never being one for the club scene, the drinks and the company were making you feel like you could conquer anything, so you join the mass of swaying bodies, finding space to dance near Mackie and Amelia. You can’t remember ever feeling this loose, this carefree, so you intend to savor it.

After a few songs, though, your feet start killing you and you navigate your way out of the crowd to find a seat at the bar. Luckily for you, Jamie was sitting at the bar, watching the crowd with a beer bottle in his hand, and you know you light up when you see him. With all the drinks coursing through your body, you forget to be nervous around him, forget to remind yourself that he’s just a friend.

Plopping down next to him and unbuckling the tiny straps on your shoes, you sigh in relief once you can feel your toes again, giving yourself a little break before going back out to dance.

“Want a drink?” Jamie asks with a little nod back to the bar, an amused smile on his face as he watches you staring at your feet, willing them to feel better.

“Sure!” You chirp, talking louder than you normally would to be heard over the music. Jamie, ever the observer, remembers your drink of choice from early in the evening and slides one to you from across the bar.

“Why aren’t you dancing?” You ask him after taking a healthy swig from your drink.

“Don’t wanna,” he shrugs, looking from the crowd to you to the bottle in his hand, “someone here should be responsible, yeah?” Instead of a response, you just clink your glasses together with a smile.

Soon, you’re so wrapped up in Jamie that your mission to get back on the dance floor is completely forgotten. The two of you make your way outside, to hear each other better, and your heart ticks up when Jamie carries your shoes out for you, making no comment on you being barefoot in London.

He takes a seat on the steps and you follow suit, sitting closer than you normally would. You talk for what must be hours, trading stories from training and old clubs and your childhood determination to make it to the top, and much too soon for your liking, Elena is coming outside with Mackie on her arm.

“I promised I’d bring these two home,” she says, Mackie immediately pouting at the older woman.

“I guess it’s time for me to leave,” you sigh, gathering your shoes and standing as Elena attempts to get Mackie down the stairs, “thanks for talking with me.” You lean back down to plant a kiss on his cheek without a second thought.

You turn to leave, and you don’t notice the way Jamie tenderly touches the faint lipstick mark left behind on his cheek.

Tags: @andr0medafallen @buckychristwrites @benedictscanvas @whimsical-roasting @sokkigarden @guccilongboard @onceuponaoneshot @presidential-facts @yepyeahuhhuh @loveslide @allthefandomtherapy @gibby31 @buddyjuststop @ellietartt @cancvr @brianandthemays @sonyume @aiyaiy @captainfrisbee @dalebo3 @theloud-yet-quietone @imsoluckyeverythingworksoutforme @rockchickrebel @legobatmans9thab @curlypeter @lostinwonderland314 @yokolesbianism @jamietarttdodo @fan-goddess @innocentbi-stander @skewedcherries

[takami-takami]

Stray Dogs Will Crawl Home.

includes— hawks x reader. minors dni. angst (with a happy ending).

warnings— gn!reader. breakups. keigo's trauma because i can't give this man a break and he needs to heal.

For better or for worse, Keigo has always been thrust into the role of decision maker.

Sure, on the inside, his emotions pick and chew at his open wounds; but the man has driven the proverbial and literal knife into far too many backs to hesitate when he leaves you.

He can do what needs to be done. It's for your own good. You deserve more than half a man, more than the scraps of whatever is left crawling to your door after another day of putting his goals of building a peaceful society before you.

The night before he left you, stone-faced to contrast your tears and begs of 'why' on the cold of your doorstep, he lay on his side and watched you sleep. Tracing the bridge of your nose with the tip of a finger, he wondered, throat tight, what you'd think of him if you knew the truth of what he's done.

He can't bear to offer you a man who's already sold himself. You shouldn't have to shoulder the weight of his sins. He tells himself it's for the greater good, but under the cobwebs of his bed, he knows a smaller, childlike voice is telling him you deserve someone who isn't dirtied by a life counting shades of moral grey.

It aches like he's dying, sure, but that's what hero work is for, right? He can throw himself into the trenches, hour after hour, until the sun looms over the horizon and the lovebirds' chirps announce the arrival of another morning without you.

For what everyone in the media says about him being a 'golden boy', he just doesn't feel the sun without you.

His subordinates ask more than a few questions about the bags under his eyes, why his glowing smile has fizzled to a mere plastic performance. It's even easier to brush them off than it was to brush off you, to smile wider and turn the question on them— an unspoken order to fucking drop it.

But Keigo's kryptonite, the deep burn that itches under the layers of his skin, is that he's well aware of what happens after someone like you becomes single. The thought crawls under the remains of his bones, and as he perches on the highest point of the city, he makes the mistake of allowing himself to entertain it. If he wasn't weighed down under the drags of sleep deprivation, he'd curse himself for being so weak.

Deep down, he knows what happens after the weeks of digging through tubs of comfort food on the couch are over. You'll stop sobbing over the phone with your best friend. You'll probably start scheduling little dates with people who remind you less and less of him with each passing one.

You're going to move on.

Someone else's fingers will press against your skin. Someone else's quips will cause you to laugh into your sleeve, someone else will hear your shaky breaths under the cover of the night, someone else will whisper promises they can't keep.

Someone else is going to make a spouse of you.

He winces. Shaking his head to clear his thoughts, he takes a single stride off the ledge and surges upwards with the beat of his wings.

He makes a note to add another shift to his schedule. Maybe two.

Are you thinking of him? If you were here, he knows you'd tell him to be open with you, to stop 'being so goddamn stubborn'. You'd tell him he deserves a break from pushing his emotions down, that you knew damn well what you signed up for when you decided to be his, and to just trust your judgement for once.

To make matters worse, you'd frame it sweet, hook the words around his heart like a taffy lasso, make it so he can't resist. You do know how much he likes it sweet.

It picks at the anger thrumming in his veins. You expect him to lay himself bare? To expose the rawest parts of him, despite the commission's repeated orders not to? You expect him to be selfish?

Why does he want so badly to be selfish?

He should definitely add two more shifts to his schedule.

His phone begins to ring, startling him from his musings. He knows exactly who it is from the first note. Your favorite song plays on his speaker; the one you confessed reminds you of him, with your thumb swiping over the raised hairs on his skin. His heart hammers in the cavity of his chest, pleading to be let out.

He can't be fucking rid of you. Keigo's heart, his mind, his very bones crackle with the fire he frantically tries to put out. God, he wants to burn, wants to drag himself by his fingertips to the door of your chapel and beg you to just finish him off. He wouldn't mind serving as the ash of your incense. He'd do anything for a chance to fill your lungs.

Shit. He scrambles to dig his phone from his pocket, nearly dropping it like hot coals when he attempts to pick it up.

"H-Hey, sweetheart!" He cringes at the puppy-like excitement in his voice at the mere sound of yours. "I'm s-sor— I," he stutters for far too long before he finally gives up. Sighing into the speaker, resigned, he squeezes his eyes shut and says exactly what his mind is screaming he shouldn't.

"Can we talk?"

[friendly-neighborhood-furry]

GOOD AFTERNOON FELLOW ROB ENJOYERS!!

DO YOU WANNA DRAW YOUR FAVORITE GUY? ARE YOU TIRED OF USING THE SAME THREE STOCK IMAGES FOR THAT PESKY STATIC BODY? WOULD YOU LIKE TO LEARN HOW TO ACHIEVE THE SAME EFFECT USING ONLY YOUR PEN AND LAYER EFFECTS?

WELL THEN BOY DO I HAVE A TUTORIAL FOR YOU!!!

IF YOU FOLLOW THE SIMPLE STEPS LAID OUT DOWN BELOW, YOU TOO CAN BECOME CLINICALLY INSANE LEVEL UP YOUR ART SKILLS BY LEARNING HOW TO MAKE REALISTIC STATIC IN THE DIGITAL MEDIUM!!

okay i'll stop yelling at you now. on with the tutorial!

Step One: Blocking!

this is usually part of the coloring process for me, so you'll need a mostly complete drawing to start out with.

now, draw out where you want the static to be with white. the average hard round brush will be good for this step, but you can use whatever you like! i for example prefer to use the polygon lasso tool to get more crisp edges (however this effect can also be achieved with the eraser tool).

for his arms and legs, just outline them in white and color them in.

depending on the pose/perspective you might have to separate certain pieces into different layers. for example, here his left arm and lower torso are clipping through the line art

so we move them to be below the line art layer and boom! problem solved.

important note: you can not use another color for the blocking. the white base color is critical in achieving the most convincing static look!

Step Two: Brushes and Blues

now for this step, we will be using these four shades of blue-grey, as well as plain black and white. for your convenience, the hex codes are also included!

HEX: 1d2427 HEX: 4d5c65 HEX: 899eac HEX: cce6f6

now go to the different brush presets for whatever program you're using. chances are, they'll have some variety of a paint-splatter brush (and if they don't, there's probably a way for you to download one or make your own).

the best kind to use is one where all of the particles are fully solid and not varying too much in opacity.

Step Three: Jackson Pollock That Shit!

now's the fun part! make a new layer and start layering the blues with your splatter brush in any order you like. just color vomit all over your canvas and don't worry about getting any of the particles outside of the base!

go back and re-layer any particular color as many times as you like until you're satisfied.

sometimes, all of this layering can result in loss of the original base color, like you can see here.

but don't worry! this can be fixed by tossing some white back into the mix.

once you're happy with that, go through and lightly sprinkle in some black. remember: a little is a lot! keep it subtle.

Step Four: Layer Effects!

this is where the magic happens! turn your blue splatter layer(s) into a clipping mask!

ka-boom! looks great, right? well, its about to get even better! go into your layer effects panel and select "Hard Light"

Step Five: Motion Blur

now, this step is optional depending on whether or not your program has more than one kind of blurring effect, but for the sake of the tutorial we'll pretend that it does.

find the motion blur panel and open it. set the angle to zero.

(ignore that i had my distance set to 2 here i just needed to have an example screenshot lol)

now crank that shit up!!

if your static layers had to be separated like in our example, make sure to do the same amount of blurring there as well. depending on your preferences, you can change the level of distance to highlight some kind of feeling. having it at 2 allows the viewer's eyes to rest on the darker colors, but having it at 7 brings out the brighter colors, calling attention to how annoyed he is with me right now.

depending on how you mix the different colors and level of blurring, you can get a lot of different variations in the static's look. feel free to experiment with it!

Step Six: Glow (optional)

unless you're drawing a dark/low-light setting, you can skip this part entirely. again, for the sake of the tutorial, lets pretend its dark!

now, since its supposed to be super dark here, i've selected the base layer for the static and deleted the black from it.

now for the fun part! make a new layer above the one we just made, then take the lightest blue color and cover the static with it! in the next step, this will become your glow!

i like to use a typical hard round brush and then apply a gaussian blur until i think it looks appropriately blurry, but you can also use your average pressure-opacity airbrush! both have their strengths, which you'll see in the next step!

for this step it helps to already have some knowledge of how light interacts with objects, but its not required! if you don't have a lot of prior experience, take this as an opportunity to practice! take it from me, making fan art of specific things is a great way to get good at drawing in general.

once we have an appropriate amount of glow and blur, we set the layer mode to Linear Light! your program might not have this layer mode, so try to find a mode that does something similar or is close enough

here you can see the strengths i mentioned before!

in the areas where i used the solid round brush + gaussian blur, i had a bit more control over how concentrated the light was at the center and how far it could spread, making it look more artificial/computerized.

meanwhile in the airbrushed areas, there's a very different vibe! on the right side where i applied the airbrush harshly in one stroke, it has a sort of cloudy look, but on the left where i applied it in multiple strokes, the varying opacities create a more painted aesthetic, which adds a lot of visual interest!

now we have arrived at the final step of this process! go to the current layer's opacity box and lower that sucker!

you should raise/lower this meter depending on how dark it is. Keep messing with it until it feels right. for our specific example(and more specifically the gaussian blur areas), a good opacity level is 73% !

and with that, we're done!

thank you for reading this! i had a fun time putting it together :)

before you go, please know that you don't have to follow every step of this to the letter!! feel free to break away from my methods and do your own experiments! mess with the hue of the static colors, use different brushes for the glow lighting, add variation in your particle sizes - go crazy with it!! half of art is experimentation and i wouldn't even have this process without it! :3

if you end up using this tutorial for Rob art on tumblr, please tag me in it!!! i would be absolutely overjoyed to see whatever you make :D (not a requirement though! either way, i'm very proud to have put this out into the world)

if you need help with any of these steps or the process in general, feel free to reach out in the replies of this post or in my ask box! i'd be happy to help out with whatever you need :3 thank you for reading this and i hope you have a wonderful day!

[scenteddelusion5]

"Two households, both unalike in dignity, In our unsightly hell, where we lay our scene," PART 4

Vox x gn reader (Alastor's child)

Note: I had so much fun writing this!!! I hope you enjoy it!

Word count: 3174

Trigger warning: suicide attempt (This is based on Romeo and Julliet after all).

Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3 - Part 4 - Part 5

"HahaHAHAha," Alastor's laugh could be heard through the entire restaurant.

Denizens left early so they could get away from him as soon as possible. There were a few tables that stayed, however. One of them was a group of girls in the corner. Y/n couldn't really see them, but they could hear a giggle come from there every once in a while. The worst part of the dinner was how well Alastor and Paris got along. It was agonizing.

"You are one hell of a gentleman, Paris," Alastor joked. "Don't you think so Y/n?"

"Yeah, sure."

The overlord had noticed how out of his child had been after their conversation. He tried to cheer them up the whole time, he hated seeing them frown, but nothing would work. Alastor supposed it was his fault so of course it wouldn't work. Instead, he tried to get the attention on Paris in hopes he would be able to cheer them up. This was another failure.

Velvette had been texting Vox the whole night. She couldn't enjoy her food, only a few of her girls could to be honest, so instead she stared at the table in the middle of the restaurant. She sat in just the right spot where she wouldn't be noticed by the other two overlords.

They is frowning the WHOLE time Like they look like they want to leave real bad

Can you take pictures? Send me pictures Should I come over and help them?

RELAX!!! I'll take your stupid picture

Just as Velvette was about to sneakily take a picture of them, she saw Paris pull out a small box from his jacket.

"No fucking way," she mumbled under her breath.

"I know Y/n and me have only been seeing each other for a little more than a week," Paris started his speech, "I've fallen deeply in love with them and I'm personally ready to tie the knot." He opened the little box with a very fancy ring in it and presented it to them.

This seemed to take Alastor by surprise, there was no possibility his little fawn would say yes to such a premature proposal. Y/n was more... Refined than that.

"I- uhm, I will..."

What? This wasn't like them. Alastor didn't have much time to ponder what was going on when the wall exploded. His head snapped 360° to look at the destruction. As his head was turned, from the other side a glowing lasso wrapped around Y/n.

"Ẁ̸̟͎͙̰̑̂̿ͅH̷̞̦̕ͅA̸̗͉̣̝͓͆T̶̨̫͍̖̽ͅ!̵̤͍̱͓͑́̎͘͠" They looked down to the obviously angelic rope. They tried to tug out of it but was unable to.

As he heard their voice, Alastor's head turned around again. He saw the lasso around them, on the other end stood an imp with a cowboy hat. Alastor's shadow tentacles immediately shot out, but he was too late, the imp had pulled them back.

"I̴̘̹͍̒̄̚ ̴̻́W̵̨̺̌̂̉̐Ǐ̵̥̖̀̑L̶̜͂͒̑L̸̮̼̳͖͒ ̷̫̋ m̷̎͜a̴̖͂k̴̢͗ȩ̶͋ ̶̺̌ȳ̵̹o̶͙͌u̶̞͝ ̵͈̋r̷̨̈e̴̢̓g̸̳̎ṙ̴̫e̵͕͌t̴̙̍ ̶̡͗̈Ţ̶͉̥͛͌̕H̵̜͎͝I̴̭̩͛́̔͑͜ͅS̶̮͔̯͕̐!̵̡̘̀͑̓!̸̜̣̤̤̎̾!̷̦̤͕̦̄̍͆" His voice was distorted and his antlers grew triple in size. More and more shadows showed up to get to Y/n.

"Then you better hurry." Striker tightened the rope causing Y/n to scream.

Rosie was quick to help her friend but she was quickly distracted by another explosion, and another. Before they knew it, the whole building exploded and Y/n and Striker had disapeared.

Alastor's eyes widened, staring at the now empty spot where they just were. Everything become distorted around him, static filled the air and the Radio Demon grew to an enormous size.

"W̴̤͂̇H̸͔̓E̸̙͝R̷̫̩͌̌E̴̳͝ ̸͙͌̚A̵̖̻̐R̴͇̜͋͛E̸̘͠ ̴̛̫̔Ỳ̸͓O̴̳̟͒Ų̴̲̽͐?!!" Blood streamed out of his mouth down to his chin, his eyes turned into dials and the parts of hsi eyes that were usually red turned black. "W̷̘̯͕̾H̸̨͒Ë̵̢N̶̯̈́̂͐ ̸̞̠̈́I̵͉͚͌̓̀ ̵̼̦̎F̸͍̑Ḯ̸͔͔̚ͅN̶̖̆D̵̠̻̱̾̕ ̷̡̥͔̊̃Y̶̰̕͘Ȍ̵̭̜̈U̵̹͊̂̔͜!! When I F̶̼̺̲̥͕͉̖̓̄̓̍I̸̯͝N̸̡̮̥̯̲̦̩̒̋̏̂̊̒̚D̵̙̀̿ YOU!!! I WILL D̸͓͛̂̇̉Ȩ̴̟̗̫̼͎̙̏͗̓̿́S̴͖̩̹͉̣͖̑̉̈́ͅT̸̜͚͔̮̬̩̮̏R̴̟̪͓̍̍̑̽̉̃Ọ̴̡̺̝͆̍̈́̚͘Ỳ̶̙̠̻̱̥́̊̀̋ͅ ̸͈̆͗̿̂͠you!!!"

Alastor started destroying everything around him, pushing over buildings and throwing around random sinners. He couldn't find them. WHERE WERE THEY?

Velvette got blinded by the light that came from the explosion. Once she had rubbed her eyes and looked up again, she saw Y/n being pulled away by an imp. More explosions went off around Rosie and Alastor.

"God DAMN, you owe me Vox." She quickly got up and ran out the building, doing her best to follow Y/n and the kidnapper. Her efforts were in vain, when she lost them in the Vee's district.

It took hours for Alastor to calm down enough to stop his rampage. He sat down on the rubble scratching his claws into his leg.

"It's going to be alright Al. He wanted them alive so we still have a chance to find them." Rosie sat down next to him. "Paris and me will help you."

"What the FUCK happened to this place?" A voice came from the left.

Vox was sitting at home, blowing up Velvette's phone. She had just promised to send him a picture and suddenly she ignored him. What was happening over there? Maybe he should check it out, just for a second. Vox walked down to his car and got into his limo.

On the way there a notification popped up on his screen; a 666 news broadcast just started. He quickly put it on the TV he had hanging by the minibar.

"Good evening hell, we just got news that the Radio Demon was spotted reaping chaos." Katie Killjoy talked a mile a minute. The little box in the corner showed glitchy footage of a giant Alastor destroying the city. "Eyewitnesses say he is after someone. I wouldn't want to be in their position."

"Drive faster!" Vox yelled at his brainwashed employee.

Alastor's attention snapped to the Vee that just got to the scene. One of his tentacles shot out to the TV demon.

"What did Y̴̦̥̩̝̱̥̬̑̃̏͑̿̈́̀̋͝O̸̢͙͈̖͍̱̞̹̘͖̳̝̓̌̕͜͠Ü̶̦͖̿́́̄ do to Y/n?!" Alastor's shadows pulled Vox by the limbs. He was ready to tear the other overlord apart.

"I didn't do SHIT do them!!!" Vox buffered. "Where ARE they?!"

"Alright, alright, stop it Alastor." Rosie put herself in between them. "I dislike the guy too, but tearing him apart isn't going to find Y/n."

The Radio Demon let go of Vox but did keep a close eye on him. "You have one minute tell me where they are."

"I DON'T KNOW WHERE THEY ARE!!!" Vox yelled. "I don't even know what the FUCK is going on!"

"Y/n just got kidnapped by an imp with angelic weapons," Rosie explained.

"And how are we planning to find them?"

"WE?" Alastor asked. "You are going to get us to them before I destroy you."

"I didn't do it!"

"You've been trying to use them to get to me from the moment you two met."

"If you loved Y/n half as much as I do you would notice the FEET KISSING FUCKER that has actually been using them." Vox retorted while pointing at Paris.

"Me?" Paris put on his best confused face. "You're ridiculous."

Alastor was slowly growing in size again. He had enough of Vox's act. He would find Y/n even if he had to kill all of hell. "How D̸͎̤͉͑̈́͊À̸͙̱̹͎͓̀Ȑ̴̻͈͉̪͈͖̘̻̔̓E̷͍̤̲̻̠̾ you suggest I don't love them enough!" The Radio Demon shot out his shadows reaching for Vox. When he got the TV Demon by the leg, he pulled him back and imprisoned him with his claws.

Vox had to act fast. "Y-you really think Y/n would have agreed to that bastard's proposal if he wasn't blackmailing them!!"

The Radio Demon stopped in his tracks. He was right, they would never had agreed. He shrunk again, now turning to the cannibal demon. Y/n had been acting weird... But what would be enough to blackmail his child? He was one of the most powerful overlords in hell, anyone that messed with them messed with him. Y/n had to just come to him and he would take care of everything.

"Stop spewing such nonsense, of course Y/n would want to marry me!" Paris yelled literally looking down on Vox who was still pinned to the rubble. "Only someone like me is worthy of marrying the Radio Demon's child."

Alastor had never heard Paris spoke in such a way before. If the demon was just an acquaintance, he wouldn't have mind it, hell maybe even encouraged it! But this was the man who had been courting his child. His child who would've hated to be put on a pedestal, especially if it was for simply being the Radio Demon's child.

Alastor turned to the man. "Paris? What did he mean by 'if he wasn't blackmailing them'?"

"... You aren't believing what this filth is spewing, right?" Paris' face gradually turned from confusion to fear when he realised the demon wanted actually wanted an answer. "I... Of course, I didn't!" He began to sweat. "I-I would never..."

Alastor knew how men looked when they were scrambling for anything that would save them, a lie, a knife, a rock, anything. He had seen it over and over again on his victims, on his father.

"Listen, you have Ỡ̵͉̰͋̀̅̄̀̈́N̵͉͎̦͖̼̖̣̼̣̈́̌̃E̶̛̖͐̀̕͝ chance tell me the truth or you will be the next voice on my broadcast." Alastor loomed over Paris, symbols and static surrounding him. "I'm all ears."

"I- uhm..."

"It's not wise to lie dear," Rosie advised him, "it'll only make things worse."

"I-it's true." He mumbled but it was loud enough for Alastor to hear.

Before Paris knew it a black hole was opened up underneath him. Giant, black tentacles dragged him down, deep in the unknown.

"I'll deal with him later, now, you." He turned to Vox who was still traumatised by what he just witnessed. "E̵͙͇̳̬̬͐́X̷̣̭̫̞̄̔̿̀͘P̸͍̜̯͉̂̀̓̾̋̕͜Ĺ̵̪͌̋͌͘A̷̤͍͎̓͂͊̏͜ͅI̸͍̊͝N̶̫͇̥̅̆̒́̍͐!̵̡̭̲̱̭͝ Please."

"It doesn't matter how many times you threaten me-" Vox slowly stood up. "- or how many times you beat me up." He continued to confidently walk up to Alastor. "My answer is still the same fuckface!!!" His face was pulled into a frown and he shoved his finger into the Radio Demon's face. "I LOVE Y/N!!!!"

Alastor was put off by his enemy's attitude. This wasn't his usual front in which he pretended to be strong and confident. For the first time he saw the genuine Vox shine through.

"Fine then, prove it." The Radio Demon straightened his suit jacket. "Are you willing to risk your life and soul finding them?"

"Without a doubt and I know exactly where to start."

The three overlords were walking into the Vee tower, up the elevator to Vox's office. For anyone walking by it was a strange sight. Vox, the overly controlling and vengeful overlord inviting his rival into his office... And Alastor agreeing! This would have been the talk of the town if Vox hadn't mind controlled every single one of his employees to stay quiet. He has an image to uphold after all.

Alastor looked around the office, it was... Something. A circular door with the VoxTech logo on it let the three overlords into what he could only describe as a monstrosity of a workspace. The Demon's office was a circular platform surrounded by a sort of, very deep, mote. In the mote swam robotic sharks. The walls held a thousand screens, each showing the footage of a different camera. On the platform hang even more screens in front of a single chair and a desk.

"Talk about being paranoid." Rosie said looking around the room.

"Only a madman would have this much surveillance." Alastor quipped.

"Well the surveillance of this mAdMaN is going to find Y/n, so shut up and let me concentrate."

"Of course." The Radio Demon nodded his head. "And how exactly?"

Vox rolled his eyes. If Alastor wanted to look down on him that's fine but the man isn't going to distract him from finding his love. "Well I'm going to try and restart the tracker in their phone."

"Their what now?"

"Their phone that I gifted. I had disabled the tracker but I might be able to restart it remotely," Vox explained.

"You gave my child one of your picture phones?" Alastor's eyes turned into dials. He couldn't believe how much Y/n had been hiding from him, it was a lot to find everything out in one evening.

"Yes, I wasn't able to contact them otherwise because of their overprotective freak of a father." Vox was typing away on his computer, getting past the firewall and excessing their phone settings.

"You-"

Alastor promptly got cut off by Rosie. "How about we deal with all this fighting and secrets later? Now we should focus on Y/n."

"Fine," Alastor sighed, "how long will this take?"

"Almost done I just have to excess the hidden settings and..... it's turned on!" Vox zoomed in on the map that showed the entire pride ring to the little glowing spot. "That's weird, it says they're on your territory, right by your garden."

"I doubt this kidnapper would have taken them to my house."

"How about I go take a look and you two try looking for something else?" Rosie proposed. "As long as you two stay civil with each other, of course."

"Don’t worry." Vox mumbled while all his focus was on the screens.

"That's not going to be a problem," Alastor said with a strained smile.

Rosie left the two of them alone. Maybe this would be good for them, she thought.

"I will never accept you as my son in law." Alastor stated.

"I know." Vox connected himself to the computer. This way it was easier to look through the thousands of security camera's around hell. "But I also never wanted to hide it. Whether you hate me or not, Y/n deserves better than sneaking around to go on dates."

"Then tell me my old friend, what makes you think YOU deserve them."

"I don't think I do, however, Y/n loves me and they deserves to be with someone that actually loves them back." Vox was following the tracker in Velvette's phone and looking through the cameras on that route.

"Tell me, how far along has your... affair with Y/n come?"

"If you're asking whether I've fucked them, then the answer is stage minus twenty. We've just been going on dates and talking."

Alastor scuffed at the overlords bluntness

"Look at this, I've got the two on camera."

He turned to the screen that showed the footage and there they were. Y/n bound with angelic robe with that imp dragging them along.

"They are headed for the edge of town." Vox skipped to the cameras there and sure enough, there they were. The imp dragged them into a warehouse.

"Hey dearies-" Rosie entered the office again, broken phone in hand. But as soon as she stepped inside the two men were already gone. Alastor disappearing in his shadow while Vox zapped through the camera.

"Who are you? What do you want from M̴̨͈͕͍͂͘Ȩ̷̛̙̪̱̤͊͒̑̇̋ͅ?!" Y/n yelled doing their absolute best to get their hands free from the bounds, alas it was pointless.

"It's no use fighting back. Not even Goetia would be able to get out of those." The imp's tail smashed against the wall in a whip-like motion. "Now be a good little sinner and wait, he wants to come down here and kill you himself."

"Your boss is a stupid man." Y/n was able to stand up, their hands and torso still bound. They looked around, they were inside some old buidling. Angelic weapons lined the wall, from guns to knifes.

"Hah! Tell him that yourself, he'll be here soon enough." A knock came from the door. "As if right on que." Striker opened the door and as he did, he was immediately shoved against the wall by black tentacles.

Through the doorway came Alastor and Vox. Y/n started running up to them.

"Fawn, I-" The Radio Demon stopped talking when he realised they weren't running to him but to Vox.

"VOX!!" Y/n cried throwing themselves onto them.

"Y/n." Vox took off the angelic bounds. "Are you alright?" He cupped their cheek.

They leaned into him. "I am now."

Alastor was fuming at the sight. He quickly grabbed the angelic rope and bound Striker before turning to the two. The Radio Demon proceeded to pull Vox away from them, pulling him in four different directions by his limbs.

"Thanks for the help but I have no use for you now, Ģ̵͖̯̅̂͜Ỏ̴͚̥̖͍̃O̷̳͙͗̍D̴̤̽̅̚B̸̢̦͇͑̔͋̿Y̶̪͕͔͎̹̱̊̎̓̕Ë̴̫͇̘́͋͜͝!!!"

"S̶̛̛̹̮̘͔͕̰̓́̀̋̾͛̕T̸̢̡̥̤̬͇̖̟͙̜̳̦͐̋O̷̢̨̫̰̪̯̟̼̞̼͈̥͜͝P̴̙͎̓̋̔̊̅͌̈!!!" Y/n stood by the wall of angelic weapons. "Let him go, I love him."

"Darling, I know what you think but you are confused, I will fix this for you." Alastor pulled harder earning a scream from Vox.

"DAD, let go of him, or... I will die with him." They pulled a knife from the array of weapons and held it to their neck.

"Y/N! Don't!!!" Vox yelled out. "It's not worth dying for me!"

"NO! If you die, I will die PERMENANTLY!"

"Little fawn, you will have to bluff better than that." The Radio Demon chuckled. "I will teach you one day."

"I'M NOT-" They yelled, -BLUFFING!!!" Y/n pulled the knife back and stabbed themselves into their shoulder, leaving the knife in, for now.

Alastor's antlers shrunk, his eyes focused on the wound, looking at it in horror. "Y/n, this man isn't worthy of you." Unconsciously, he had let go of a now coughing Vox.

He slowly made his way to them, coughing and limping.

"That's for me to decIDE-" They pulled the knife out, blood pooling out of the wound. "And HE IS!"

Y/n tried to push the knife right into their chest but something was blocking the blade. Vox had thrown himself at him and the knife went right through his suit and into his arm.

"V-Vox, what are you?"

"You are really stupid, you know that?" He joked. "How could I just stand by and watch you get hurt?"

"I love you," they whispered.

"I-I lo... Love..." Vox fell down, all his weight came down on them.

"Vox..? Vox? VOX!" Tears spilled out of their eyes. "VOX!!! WAKE UP! Ple-ease wake up!"

Alastor just stood there, as Vox of all people, saved his child. He tried to come closer, his hands shaking.

"STAY AWAY FROM HIM!!" Y/n glared at their father.

"Y/n, you're bleeding too, l-let me help you." He tried to take another step.

"S̶̛̛̹̮̘͔͕̰̓́̀̋̾͛̕T̸̢̡̥̤̬͇̖̟͙̜̳̦͐̋O̷̢̨̫̰̪̯̟̼̞̼͈̥͜͝P̴̙͎̓̋̔̊̅͌̈!! D-don't... you'll h-hurt hi-" They too lost consciousness.

The Radio Demon carefully picked up the couple, two tentacles wrapped around their wounds putting pressure on them. Before he could leave with them, a voice came from the door.

"Stricky!! Sorry, I'm late. I saw the broadcast though." The door slowly opened. "I can't wait to kill the whore and get my Voxy ba-"

Valentino saw what was actually happening inside. Striker was bound up, Vox and Y/n knocked out and he now stood face to face with a incredibly pissed of Radio Demon.

"Shi-"

Alastor quickly pulled Valentino and Striker into a blackhole. He really wanted to pull them both apart but he had other prioritise right now.

"Rosie! Get the first aid-kit!" Alastor barged into the emporium carrying the two.

Rosie looked at the wounds. "I'll get the town doctor too, wait here."

Alastor sat down next to his child. He gave them a kiss on the forehead.

"I'm sorry Y/n, please forgive me," he whispered.

Part 5

Masterlist/request guidelines

Taglist: @hxzbinwrites

[deathbecomesthem]

Eddie Munson x gn!reader

Things Left Unsaid

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The things that stay unsaid between you expand and create more space with each conversation. The sun? Yes, it is high in the sky, its rays are heating things up today. Sure, I remembered to lather the cream along my skin to keep those harsh rays from seeping too deeply inside my epidermis. Work? Oh, I made sure the families that came through that glass door (sticky fingerprints, don't forget to Windex before you leave for the day) got exactly the food they ordered, still hot enough to melt the hard butter pads at the side of their dishes. The family? Same as ever - dad in the recliner with his favorite can of piss flavored beer and mom in the kitchen in her cherry red apron kneading, sauteing, wiping, and wiping the never ending flow of sweat from her brow.

But you never say the things that tug at your insides, pulling you apart with every sidelong glance at his face. You feel your eyes sweep across this side of his face and neck, the same side you sit next to every Friday night. He has 8 freckles today, scattered across his cheek with shiny hairs peeking through his pale skin. It's been a while since that morning shave. His dark curls barely brush against his shoulders, shorter than last week. You can imagine him standing over his bathroom sink, the dim yellow light his only guide, as he cuts and trims.

If you had any sense, you'd tell him. You'd ask him to let you stand behind him and drape a towel over those strong shoulders. Pull the hair out from under the towel. Use your fingers to carefully measure the length of each precious strand on that perfect head.

But what if he said no?

If you had any sense, you'd scoot closer to his thin frame and allow the heat of your skin to speak the words that you're too afraid to say. The space between you, more space than you give any of your other friends, is more vast than the Great Lake you visited last weekend. It breathes. It vibrates. You can feel it, like an extra person sitting there while you cling to the edge of this couch and Eddie clings to his.

Instead of bridging that distance, instead of tying that lasso to rope him and pull him closer, you chit chat and glance at his profile. Study it. Tuck away every detail. A version of him lives inside your mind, and you add to it with every laugh - every sneeze - every grunt - every crack of his knees when he stands up from the couch. Tortuous labor, sculpting him into perfection, yet never a real boy will he be trapped inside your skull.

“...a little stale, but it’s better than nothing, ya know?” You’ve been looking at the fingers on his left hand, studying the lines on the knuckles of his pinky finger. You didn’t realize he was talking to you until his voice moved up into a curving question.

“Hmm?” You hold back a small jump of surprise when you see Eddie looking at you in the blue glow of the television screen. If he noticed your staring, he’s doing an excellent job of hiding it. “Sorry, Ed, lost in thought. What did you say?”

“I said, my supply’s been low since Rick got picked up by the Sheriff last week, but I found a stash I forgot about under my bed. It’s probably a little stale, but better than nothing.”

[azsazz]

Undercover

Jax x Reader [Next Gen Fic]

Summary: Anon Req: This one is for S, who wanted a better insight on Jax. A little combo of what you sent me-"or just a drabble about him and his mate (who is helping the IC with something but she doesn’t know about the bond) and how he tried to deflect the bond bcoz it’s a bit too much for him" and "since he’s an empath he has the ability to see bonds so imagine his surprise and the excess flood of emotions he feels when the bond snaps for him" (i hope this finds you💙)

Warnings: None

Word Count: 972

_________________________________________

This must be what the victims of his father’s torture must feel like, he thinks.

It itches at his skin, and no matter how hard he tries, how high he builds those walls to block it out, it’s still fucking there.

It gnaws on his skin like maggots on rot, featherlight wings beating in his ears like the hummingbirds Malos favors so much. It’s a constant, these days, makes Jax ache to dig his fingers into his skin, but not even the bite of pain would be enough for him to draw his attention away from that tether inside of him, lassoed around his heart.

And you don’t seem to feel a goddamn thing. You’re completely unknowing of the barbed rope you’ve coiled around his heart with your presence alone. How could you not realize the agony he’s in? How can you not feel the thundering of his heart whenever you are near?

He stands in the corner, shadows wreathed around his shoulders, eyes pinned to you as you move about his uncle’s ballroom, flanked by Castor and Sif. You’re wearing the darkest color of silk you could find, and if there’s a chance that you do know he is your mate, it would be this.

But he knows that you don’t know. He knows almost everything that is going on in the house, how everyone is feeling. How Baz is tingling with excitement as a couple waves his way, cheeks pink and bashful. How his father’s heart warms at the sight of his mother laughing with his uncles mates. How you and his cousins flutter with nervousness whenever a handsome fae male asks you to dance.

A whisper of darkness curls around the shell of his ear from the libraries below. A slight comfort, an invitation, should he need to escape the party and confide in the monster contained to this home.

Jax brushes the feeling away, gaze pinned to you. It’s overwhelming most times, being around this many people. Even a long dinner with the entirety of his uncle’s Inner Circle sends him almost reeling, though his powers have come a long way since childhood. He can block strong emotions out, manipulate them to his advantage, but the one he’s always had trouble reigning into submission has always been love.

He knows that a part of him doesn’t want to block the feeling out. It’s so raw, so breath-taking, it feels like he’s high with it when he’s surrounded by the emotion. It glows a minty green, swirling throughout the air of the ballroom. A new trick Jax had picked up while honing his powers, the ability to see auras and emotion in the air from just a glimpse. 

A blink, and it’s gone, and he’s still leaning against the wall with his arms crossed tightly over his chest, watching you twirl around in your pretty dress.

Knox is the first of his siblings to find him still lingering near the door. His family understands that events like this are not ideal for Jax, but he always makes sure to attend, say his hellos, and stick around as he practices blocking out the onslaught of emotions beating against the walls in his mind like a sledgehammer. 

He’s made it all of four hours this time.

And the party will rage on all night. He doesn’t usually care about missing out on the festivities, but with you here, he can’t force himself to leave. He’ll endure a thousand people's emotions to be able to glean a droplet of yours, even if you don’t even know he’s here.

You’re still here? Knox signs, slipping into the darkened corner with him. His youngest brother’s shadows wreath around their feet, and it’s not that Jax notices he hasn’t seen Malos in an hour and a half. Maybe he should leave, see if they can get into some sort of trouble. At least he’d be surrounded by his sister’s cool, calm, and collected character.

He hadn’t expected Knox to be the one to find him. Normally, it’s Baz’s shadows coiling tight around his wrists and dragging him across the ballroom, shoving a shot of liquor into his hand and keeping watch for their father while Jax slams it back, the heat burning his throat. Knox has been otherwise occupied with his own mate, who he’d had the pleasure of finding years ago. Jax remembers how the shock had burst from his mouth in the middle of dinner when he’d found out about Knox’s mate. He’d almost fallen from his chair.

It had felt different than this, though. Knox’s emotions had felt like his veins had burst into flames, the emotions held so tightly in his chest. The bond Jax feels with you is much different. It’s a calming breeze, a cool rush of relaxant in his blood. It makes his head dizzy, and he wonders if it will change when the bond becomes known for you. 

Jax nods once, and Knox’s gaze follows across the room. He’s not trying to hide the way that he’s looking at you, knows that Knox won’t tell a soul…except for Malos, but he knows the twins will take this to the grave if he asks them to.

Mate, then? Knox asks, but he already knows the answer. Jax is not easy to read but he knows his brother. Can see it in the tightness of his mouth, the tightness in which he’s clenching his fists, that predatory glint in his glowing eyes as he watches a male twirl you around the dancefloor. Why not go get her?

Jax shakes his head in response, finally ripping his gaze away from you as the song ends and you bounce over to his cousins, giggling and blushing. He allows the shadows to pull him deeper, towards the exit. “It’s not time yet.”

[lifeiskentastic]

Ken plays Cowboy, and gn!Reader helps him with it

Gif by @makoto-shinkai

A/N: This is probably the silliest thing I've ever written.

Summary: Ken, deeply immersed in the cowboy theme, decides to drag gn!Reader into his silly game. Well, it's not like Reader too much in the way…

Word count: 807 words;

Incpired: This Gorgeous Fanart by @thapunqueen;

Song I recommend: Of course, it's Save a Horse (Ride a Cowboy) by Big & Rich;

Hope this makes you smile!

Almost immediately after the patriarchal period, Ken moved on to another. To the cowboy one. It seems that, having realised that he had nothing to catch on the beach (literally and figuratively), he decided to find himself in a radically different profession. So, from now on, this Ken is a cowboy! Which means walking around Barbieland in a cowboy carnival costume, swinging a Sporty Ken's rope lasso and at any moment (usually the most inappropriate) shouting random exclamations that only Ken considered cowboyish.

However, everyone just turned a blind eye to the ridiculousness of the situation, because Ken was happy. He had never smiled so happily as when he learnt to spin the Sporty Ken's rope lasso.

The problems only started when Ken got too much into the role. If at first he was just whining to every passerby that he wanted a gun, now he was shouting to every passerby that he wanted a gun. Everything seemed to work out when he got his wooden gun, but that was just the start of a crazy race called "Calm the Mad Ken Cowboy".

You've often wondered how things would have turned out if one day Ken hadn't just burst into your home with the words:

“You've been abducted! Piff-puff!!”

You were having a peaceful breakfast in your home in Barbieland, well, before you were abducted, of course.

“Why would you want to abduct me?”

Surely you would have been scared to be kidnap. And you probably would have been if Ken hadn't been your kidnapper.

“Because that's what real cowboys do!”

You didn't know much about cowboys, but something told you that they didn't kidnap random people (or dolls) in the middle of their breakfast.

Ken was smiling excitedly, looking back at the door and licking his lips as if he was expecting to see the sheriffs of the wild west on the porch. You really haven't seen him so excited about something in a long time... Maybe you should play along a little bit? What could happen but that you would only make your friend laugh more? Isn't that a good thing?

You take a deep breath before you start the most ridiculous game of your life.

"Uh-oh!" You put your hands up as if a real gun was pointed at you (although hardly anyone says 'uh-oh' when a deadly weapon is glowing in front of them). "I think I've really been kidnapped!"

Ken's eyes lit up with childlike joy as he looked at you with gratitude. You could barely keep your expression in character, hiding a playful smile. Apparently, you were infected with someone else's carefree spirit.

“When will the noble sheriffs come to rescue me?”

But suddenly Ken's face changed dramatically. He stared at at you in confusion, as if he had just realised that he had kidnapped someone (albeit in jest).

“Why can't I rescue you?”

“You abducted me.”

It seems that the word "noble" has put Ken in front of a difficult moral choice: either to be a kidnapping cowboy or to be a rescuing cowboy, but a noble one. After all, how could anyone but him be noble?

“Uh, wait here a minute.”

Ken ran out of the house, leaving you with your hands up in the middle of the kidnapping scene. And you could have sworn you heard a mysterious whispering coming from behind your door.

Later, you were uninvited to your home. For the second time in one day.

“You are saved!”

You exhaled and gave up. Well, it was definitely an unexpected turn of events, but not the worst. You'd managed to make Ken happy, so you could cross one thing off your to-do list! Oh, you were so naive...

“Now I have to kiss you!”

“What?”

Ken was radiating joyful levity even as he declared that it was his duty as a sheriff to kiss the rescued.

“That's what they do in the films.”

When you decided to have fun with Ken, you didn't mean it! You'd be lying if you said you were totally against it, but it did seem a little wrong to kiss in the circumstances. The problem was also that you were intimately familiar with Ken's stubbornness, and especially with the stubbornness of Ken the Cowboy Sheriff. And you had to do something about it immediately...

You hesitantly walked closer to him, quickly, until the cowboy took control of the situation. You reached for his face and lightly touched his soft cheek with your lips.

When you pulled away, you were greeted by a confused Ken, with his hand firmly pressed to his kissed cheek, his cowboy hat tilted back, his eyes shocked and a deep blush all over his face. You could hardly imagine his reaction if you had dared to kis- Thank you for saving me, officer! Ken could only nod

[sam-loves-seb]

look. I know there are probably a million and a half takes on this, but I had this thought, and it wouldn’t leave my brain, so now you have to deal with it too.

ian is not the sun.

ian is the moon, and mickey is the sun.

mickey is the sun, at least in ian’s eyes he is, because ian’s whole world starts ends and revolves around his husband. the pull mickey has on him feels like a gravitational orbit, stronger than any crush or infatuation ever has been, and no matter how much distance (physical and metaphorical) ian puts between them, he always—always—comes back to mickey. and mickey, well he burns hotter and brighter than just about anyone else they know, all barely checked temper and hot seething rage, and hell hath no fury like a mickey scorned because he will burn you faster than any fire ever could. and god, his eyes—do not get ian started on mickey’s eyes—they’re as blue as a cloudless sky on a summer’s day, all warm and wide and vast as the horizon, and ian could stare at them for hours the way he’d stare up at the sky in the backyard as a kid. and yeah, maybe sometimes you can’t look directly at mickey, like maybe you’ll get hurt if you stare for too long, but ian’s best friends are a pair of sunglasses and a bottle of spf, so he’s not exactly new to the sun game, and if he’s the only one who knows how to handle it—that’s more than fine with the both of them

and ian—ian is the moon the way mickey needs air to breathe, because yeah, maybe he’s all smiley and lukewarm to everyone he fucking meets, but that’s not ian, not the real ian, that’s just good fucking manners or whatever shit ian says, but mickey doesn’t care about that. mickey cares about the ian that’s only for him, the one that is there for him through everything, even the bad shit, like the little sliver of moonlight slipping through the curtains on a really dark night, the little bit of comfort that’s enough to get him through the dark times and keep going until morning, like the guiding light on the sidewalks when he wanders home from work or the alibi or whatever late at night when the streets are empty and he’s alone. because mickey’s never really alone, not now that’s for sure, but not even then, when there were miles (metaphorical and literal) between them, because mickey would look up at the moon through the bars on the rec room window or the patio from his apartment in mexico and he’d think of ian, and his stupid fucking lopsided curved grin creeping up on his face like a crescent moon in its own right, and it’d be enough to get him til morning. even now, when he can’t sleep and he’s restless, he still looks for the moon, only now he doesn’t look out the window—why would he when he has the real thing on the other side of his mattress—he throws an arm and a leg over his husband like he’d lasso the moon if he could, and he pulls ian closer.

ian goes through phases, up down then up again, and they’re manageable, almost predictable if you study it close enough, like the phases of the moon or the flow of the tide, in and out, waxing and waning, and mickey loves all versions of ian, the full bright smiles and the dark barely there days, and every variation in between. because ian is still ian, no matter what stage he’s currently in, the same way the moon is still that bright glowing rock in the sky night after night, and mickey is happy to get pushed and pulled like waves on the shore under ian’s influence.

mickey studies the galaxies printed on ian’s body, across his chest and stomach, his shoulders and his arms, even the little ones dotting the backs of ian’s hands, and mickey finds peace in the stardust that paints ian’s skin, in the constellations he maps out on ian’s face with his lips, and even tho the freckles there are more faded then when they were kids, mickey still knows where every single one of them is. he brushes his fingers over the new one above his eyebrow, the one ian got after spending a little too much time with his tomato plant the other day, and mickey feels like an astronomer discovering a new star that he just never would’ve been able to see five, ten years ago on his own personal night sky, but he’s here to see it now so he kisses his latest discovery and falls asleep dreaming of a name for his newest constellation

[hypnautic-cereal]

I’ve shared about my Welcome Home au on Discord and TikTok, but not here yet

So, I introduce to you: the Wish Maker au!💫

A Welcome Home au of mine that spawned from a meme I thought of one time while I was in the shower. Essentially the WH crew in this au are able to grant different kinds of wishes, and strive to make any and all wishes come true for a more better earth

(Please note that I did each of these art pieces separately, so all the canon sizes are the ones up on this first one⬆️)

First of all, we have our Wally variant: Wally Starling💫

Wally is the newest neighbor to land on Planet Home, as he was recently born from the stardust of a recently died supernova. Wally is gifted the power to grant star wishes as well as a high/moon jump, and aspires to be Judy’s as great of a wish maker as his friends

Up next: Our spectacular star, Sally Starlet⭐️

Glowing wherever she goes, Sally Starlet is the leader and protector of Planet Home. Legends as true as wishes have told that a portion of Sally’s power was distributed among each of her friends. Who knows what power she could behold at full capacity?

Next on our list: Our lovable dog Barnaby B. Beagle🎤

It might not seem like it at first, but Barnaby B. Beagle is a dog of many cultures. Barnaby grew a swift and tight friendship with Wally Starling, even being the one who gave Wally his name when he first arrived on Planet Home! Inspired by 90s family game shows as a sign of his love for fun and friendship, Barnaby grants the wishes from different cultures (such as tanabata tags, and grapes from under the table on the new years countdown)

Next up, our dynamic duo: 🎂Julie Joyful and Frank Frankly📚

Always excited to celebrate any occasion, Julie is your girl to call for a party. Her partying expertise is always to serve for others happiness. With help from Poppy Partridge and Sally Starlet, there’s no party on Planet Home that won’t be ready on time. Once the birthday candles are blown, a dash of confetti from Julie’s hand will have the wish granted in no time

Although they’re always in a rush, Frank Frankly is the brightest/smartest neighbor on the wishful Planet Home. Any questions the neighbors have about anything, Frank is able to answer in various ways. His specialty lies in granted wishes found in nature (such as dandelion puffs or the first winter snow), as well as proofreading wishes to the wisher’s intent. With provided help from Julie Joyful and Eddie Dear, there’s no task to tough for our beloved brainiac

And last up: 🌙Poppy Partridge, Eddie Dear💌, and Howdy Pillar🐛

Looking over the dreams of those down on Earth, Poppy Partridge acts as a guide to those who don’t know what their hearts desire. A scent of lavender and lilac follow wherever she goes, as a sea of stars speckle her pillowy soft tail feathers. Her and Sally Starlet happily work side by side, making sure all goes right from day to night

Folk tales from the old west tell the tale of a person who retrieves the wishes that haven’t been granted so that they can be granted as soon as they can. That there is our confident yet clumsy and forgetful dreamer, Eddie Dear. With his Lasso of Limitless Length and Star of Time, there’s no limit to when and where ungranted wishes will be granted. He takes his job with pride, especially if Frank Frankly is by his side

Ever need that little bit of push when playing the lottery? Or need a wish from that coin you tossed into the well? Well, our terribly generous Howdy Pillar’s got your back. He’d be more than happy to grant you luck and fortune for whatever you might need for the day. He does seem to fall asleep quite often, even with all the energy he needs for the day, so he carries his pillow Benjamin in case he’s ever tuckered out (get it? Cause money…$100…Benjamin Franklin-). So, what Howdy’s Place deal are you looking for today?

JESUS OK FINALLY FINISHED WRITING ALL THIS😭

But yeah, I have a lot to share with you guys about this au, and I hope you all enjoy and stick around for all the stuff I wanna share for it! I even have a whole playlist for this au (as well as a discord server but that was made for the fun of it and doesn’t have any actual functionality lol)

[ofthecaravel]

Cowboys Are Frequently Secretly Fond Of Each Other

A Danny Wagner x Sam Kiszka fic where Danny is a cowboy and Sam really likes cowboys

Tags: Cowboys, closeted feelings, pining, angst, fluff, some steaminess at the end but nothing explicit, happy ending, stupid idiots

Words: 10k

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This was Danny’s favorite part of the rodeo, this final lap around the outer ring while whatever poor cattle lay protesting on the dirt ground, restricted by which expertly tied knot he decided to twist into his lasso for that evening’s show. And, yes, he did do it to get a good look at all the whistling girls that lined the fence, but mostly he did it because he wanted to listen to all those cheers and screams for him as long as he could before it seemed too cocky. When he was steering his trusty stocky steed around, with sweat rolling down his forehead and his chest heaving as he caught his breath, the only thing he could truly focus on was drinking in the sound of his name screamed again and again. 

Imagine his surprise when he found something new to snap him out of the haze that the cheers drowned him in, no less on an otherwise standard night.

It was a face, staring up at him through a curtain of dark lashes and half obscured from the flannel sleeves it had burrowed into, propped up against the gated fence by impossibly long legs and worn out boots. At first glance, Danny figured it was one of the usual girls that rushed to the fence after the last knot had been tied, but as he approached and the face lifted higher to him, he realized it was neither. This was a man, fresh faced and femininely handsome, with his mouth ajar and his lower lash line glowing pale in the fluorescents, giving him the appearance of a doll in grubby country garb. Danny tried to brush his eyes past him without lingering too long, and yet when he rode past, he got a foreign shiver in the pit of his stomach that stabbed him anxiously. When he reached his exit area, he found himself riding past it, and the commentator made an amused remark about this extra victory lap as Danny took his hat off his head and shook his dusty curls loose. As he approached the man again, he was surprised to realize his hand had a shake to it as he leaned off his horse and planted his cowboy hat on the man’s head. For a fraction of a second, his pinky grazed the crown of his head, and the feeling of the silken quality of his hair brushing Danny’s knuckle was enough to make his throat go dry as he strode confidently on. There was a crest of yells and shrieks in the moments after he gave away his hat, but he didn’t dare sneak a peek over his shoulder, instead giving his usual wave and finally steering his horse through the exit. 

Now, another thing Danny was used to was having a few girls flit up to him after the rodeo and pay him even more attention. If they were lucky, he’d buy them a drink and send them home with a kiss on the cheek, but he promised himself he wouldn’t let himself become the kind of rodeo sleaze that took advantage of the near rockstar mystique they held in a small town like Silver Creek. This gentlemanly approach didn’t keep them away, if anything it drew them in even more. But on that night, he noticed an acute lack of nervous titters trying to catch his attention as he tended to his horse in his stall. He still noticed the occasional peeking of pink lipped faces around the corner and muffled chatter outside the barn, but there wasn’t so much as a shoulder tap for him that night. Danny found himself a little annoyed at this lack of company, but was quickly rewarded when he eventually loped out of the barn and turned to find himself face to face with the boy with the dark lashes. He looked a little startled to see Danny, but eased into a shy smile.

“Hi,” he said, clearing his throat slightly. “Uh, I wanted to make sure you got your hat back before you left for the night.”

“Oh!” Danny laughed, running a hand through his hair. “Well, aren’t you a peach?”

“You sure were great out there,” the other man continued, his voice restrained and bashful as he held out Danny’s hat to him. “Everybody around me was totally jealous.”

“I suppose I’ve got a fan or two,” Danny smirked, plucking the hat from his hand. “Can’t say I’ve seen you here before. First time at a rodeo?”

“Oh, no, definitely not,” the other man chuckled. “My brothers and I moved here from Kentucky a few weeks ago, but we’ve taken so long getting settled in that it took me this long to scope out how you folks like to do it.”

“Did we live up to your standards?”

“Definitely not.”

He gave Danny a wicked grin and Danny’s eyebrow immediately shot up with a scowl. The ease of their conversation was fluttering his insides in a warm, almost uncomfortable way, but he couldn’t help but go along with this stranger’s bite.

“Really?” Danny fake scoffed and shook his head. “I find that hard to believe. The Deputy Star Rodeo is by far the best in the state, ask anybody.”

“Well, maybe there’s a reason it’s the Deputy Star and not the Sheriff’s Star,” the stranger shrugged innocently. He had a lingering smirk on his lips, and Danny let his gaze rest on them a moment longer than he meant to before he flicked his eyes up to meet his. At this close range and in the warm light leaking from the barn, Danny could see their dark honey color underneath all those lashes. For the first time, he felt himself rendered a little speechless. He was so bashful, yet so brash, and Danny was reeling.

“You ride?” Danny challenged. Immediately, the stranger’s face froze up, blinking a few times absently before shaking his head no. Danny frowned at his odd reaction. 

“Well,” he started, shifting the hat in his hands for a moment before handing it back to the man. “If you’re gonna criticize our rodeo, I recommend you give it a try.”

The stranger, with an odd glint in his eye, reached out slowly and took the hat from Danny’s hand, never breaking eye contact. 

“I’m Sam,” he finally introduced himself, putting it back on his head. Danny felt a quiet thrill at the sight, his hat on that head. Danny nodded and tipped an invisible hat of his own at him.

“I’m sure you’ll be able to find my name in your program,” Danny purred, shooting him a wink before turning to walk away. He got a few feet before Sam piped up again. 

“See you next week,” Sam called after him. “Danny.” 

Danny, still walking, didn’t even fight the smile that crept onto his face.

--

On his next night off, Danny decided to spend some time at the local bar. He was pretty sore from the previous night's tussle with a particularly stubborn bull, and he knew a drink or two would help melt away some of the strain on his muscles. Having grown up in this town, Carson’s Bar and Grill was a staple that had gone largely unchanged since Danny’s youth, having mapped out its familiarities when he was a young boy tagging along with his father to get a cream soda while his dad shot pool. He’d already been thrown off his rhythm days prior by Sam, and changes seemed to be few and far between in his life, so Danny found himself nearly jumping out of his scuffed up boots when he swung open the door to Carson’s and was greeted by a swell of raucous fiddling. The occasional set of live music started up every once in a while, but Silver Creek only had a handful of musicians worth a lick listening to. And this fiddling was good. Really good. 

Danny turned towards it and saw a man with flyaway chestnut waves sawing on a rickety old fiddle, his bright slice of smile on full display as his boot stamped on the offbeats. Several people had turned their tables towards him and were raptly watching, shouting and smacking their palms to the music. Next to the fiddler was a man on a chair, stamping his boots similarly and clapping along, his curls bobbing as he nodded his head. During a crescendo, both men scrunched their noses in unison, and Danny realized they had to be twins. The man on the chair cleared his throat before opening his mouth and singing along to the violin with a unique, scratchy voice.

“Johnny, rosin up your bow and play your fiddle hard,” he sang, his smile leaking through into the lyrics. “Cause Hell’s broke loose in Georgia, and the devil deals the cards!”

Danny couldn’t help but grin, his mood already considerably lifted as he approached the bar and ordered two fingers of whiskey, accepting it gratefully and nodding along to the music as he sipped it. 

“Hey, Wagner, heard you lost your hat at Sunday’s show,” rasped the regular next to him, giving him a wry smile wrought with missing teeth. Danny laughed and shrugged.

“What can I say,” Danny said, lifting the glass to his lips. “If you give ‘em a piece of the action, it keeps ‘em coming back.”

The man chuckled and clapped a hand on Danny’s back before swiveling his stool to face the fiddle playing, leaving Danny to stare into his drink as he realized that what he said wasn’t entirely true. Now that he was thinking about it, he’d had three shows since the night he’d given Sam his hat, but he hadn’t seen Sam since. 

Not that he cared. He finished his drink with a fast swallow and winced, burying the thought with the burn of the alcohol in his throat. 

As if summoned, the first thing Danny noticed when riding out for his next show the following day was Sam. He was in a seat this time, chatting with the man next to him as if the show hadn’t begun at all. His flannel was loose and fluttered around his collarbone, and the jean cutoffs he was sporting were the shortest Danny had ever seen on a man. Positioned jauntily atop his plaited hair was Danny’s hat. 

A day show for Danny meant a break from his usual tie down routine, instead getting to practice his breakaway roping, chasing down a steer with his lasso using tricks learned in early age that he now aimed to perfect. He stilled his ride in their stall, pulling the lengths of his lasso through his calloused hands, the rumble of the crowd and huffs of his target in the stall next to his lost on his ears as he tried to shake off an unexpected bout of jitters. He did this routine a thousand times, and the crowd ate it up every time. What was he getting so worked up about?

The announcer introduced him and the event, sneaking in a snide comment here and there about Danny’s prodigal rodeo history and his affinity for cattle, and Danny tried to let it calm him as he adjusted his position on the saddle and waited for the starting call. It beeped loudly and Danny was off, racing after the speedy little cow as he circled his lasso over his head. When he sped past, he snuck a side eyed look towards the bleachers where he’d seen Sam, and felt a stab of annoyance when he saw that Sam was still talking to the person next to him. He caught a glimpse of his full smile and Danny’s adrenaline piqued, whipping his head around and tossing his lasso blindly towards the steer, securing it around its throat as it kept anxiously buzzing around the arena. A chorus of cheers rose up and he slowed his horse, hearing his time score and curling his fist triumphantly when it was up there with some of his best times. Danny started his victory lap, tossing kisses and winks to the usuals gathering around the ring, scanning the droves of pretty faces and deciding if there was anyone he was particularly drawn to. Usually it wasn’t much of a struggle, but he felt strangely neutral about each face he passed, even cringing a little when he let his thoughts wander a little past where he usually let them go. Suddenly, none of them seemed very appealing at all. For the first time, Danny wondered where he could go after his second event later on to avoid any girls talking to him.

Danny decided to let one of the stable workers tend to his horse after the show, and everyone gave him a properly hard time when he insisted he needed to take it easy that evening. He made up a little white lie about a strained muscle and they all pitched in a cigarette and sent him off with a chorus of lighthearted yet condescending condolences. As Danny strode out of the barn, he stuck one of the cigarettes to his bottom lip and started digging in his jeans pocket for his box of matches. 

“Need a light?”

There was Sam, standing where he’d been when he’d brought Danny his hat, only this time he was making no move to remove it and had his head tilted in an innocent curiosity. Danny let out an amused exhale through his nose,  appraising Sam with an incredulous look as he removed the cigarette from his mouth and pinched it between his fingers.

“If you’re offering,” Danny answered, holding it out towards Sam. Sam pulled out a lighter from his impossibly small shorts pocket, Danny trying to not acknowledge how tight they clung to Sam’s toned legs as he spun the spark wheel and held the flame to the paper. It caught quickly and Danny brought it to his lips, inhaling deeply and nodding in appreciation as he let the smoke unfurl out through his nostrils, a trick some older cowboys had taught him. Of course, they’d taught him to impress the girls, but his reflexes told him to do it now.

“Can I bum one off of you?” Sam asked boldly, his eyes roundening ever so slightly in pleading.

“First my hat, now my smokes,” Danny mumbled, pulling one out of his pocket and handing it over to Sam, holding back a shiver as Sam’s cool fingers brushed his as he took it from Danny and lit it up. “Can’t say I appreciate being treated as a general store, stranger.”

“Stranger?” Sam parroted with a smile, blowing smoke out of the side of his mouth as he leaned his shoulder against the side of the barn. “Can’t even remember my name? Owch.”

“I’m not sure you’ve earned it,” Danny snipped. “You don’t even pay attention during my events.”

Sam’s dark brows raised slightly as his cheeky smile spread across his tanned face, a little color seeping into his cheeks as he let out a little laugh. Danny’s brow furrowed further, his annoyance towards Sam growing even more.

“And how would you know that?”

It was Danny’s turn to flush, stalling his response by taking a deep drag of his cigarette and tossing a look over his shoulder as if he was looking for something or someone. He turned back to Sam after a moment, who was still wearing a satisfied grin.

“A true cowboy takes the time to acknowledge the audience all while corralling his cattle,” Danny explained steadily, as if he really believed that. “Plus, you’re still wearing my hat. I’d know my own hat from a thousand yards.”

“Ah,” Sam accepted, nodding sagely, clearly not buying it. “Hat, gotcha. Makes sense.”

“Who are you waiting for?”

“You.”

“Oh,” Danny said dumbly, beginning to grow frustrated by how much this person was stringing his nerves out with so few words. Sam’s mere presence was making him itchy from head to toe and he couldn’t pin down why. “What can I do you for?”

“My brothers wanted me to ask you if you came into Carson’s yesterday,” Sam explained, flicking ash off his cigarette. 

“Yeah,” Danny answered simply. “Do I know them?”

“You might’ve recognized them as the yahoos with the fiddles.”

“Those were your brothers?” Danny blurted, his eyebrows shooting up. “Holy cow. They’re fantastic musicians, please give them my compliments.”

“Can do,” Sam muttered, a little bitterness in his voice. “I’m really just here to prove a point. I told them it was you who gave me the hat, but they didn’t believe me.”

“Were you there?” Danny asked, his heart beginning to race as he combed his memory of the night for a glimpse of Sam’s memorable face. “Gee, I don’t-”

“They thought you were way out of my league,” Sam chuckled, taking a long inhale of his cigarette and wearing it down to a nub as Danny blinked blankly at him. 

“I…don’t follow,” Danny stammered as Sam dropped the cigarette and stamped it into the dirt with the heel of his boot. 

“I didn’t think you would,” Sam giggled. “I guess what they say about a cowboy’s intellect isn’t too far off. So talented and yet…”

Sam clucked his tongue with a shake of his head and Danny grimaced, his cheeks flushing angrily as he took Sam’s blow. Sam approached him, gently sliding his hand up Danny’s bicep, his featherlight touch enough for all of Danny’s adrenaline to slam into him at once and slow his breathing. 

“I’ll explain it real easy for you, cowpoke,” Sam said softly, lifting himself up on his tip toes and lowering his voice as he spoke in Danny’s ear. “I think you’re cute.”

Danny froze. Zeroing in on the feeling of Sam’s warm breath on his neck and the faintly sweet and smoky smell of his cologne, he felt a cold sweat break out over his skin as Sam chuckled against his ear and then lowered himself again, combing Danny’s expression as Danny fought not to let his cigarette fall from his lip. Danny recovered pretty quick, laughing softly and looking down at his boots, seeing how close Sam’s expensive seafoam green ones were to his own dusty, worn out pair.  

“Ah,” Danny said quietly, hoping Sam didn’t see the heat he felt warming his cheeks. “Sorry, partner, I don’t quite swing that way.”

He met Sam’s eye, expecting disappointment written all over his face, but instead Sam looked disappointed with him. His brow was arched, his head was cocked again, and his body language said what he wasn’t saying: I don’t believe you. 

Danny felt the need to prove himself to Sam, to really convince him that he was not interested in the slightest. That he was a real red blooded American cowboy with a girl on each arm. But once he’d said it and Sam was looking at him like he was an idiot, his mind started racing as he heard a little voice that he was all too familiar with speaking up in the back of his head, reminding him of just who had begun popping up in Danny’s dreams and driving him crazy during what was supposed to be his times of ultimate focus. 

“Okay,” Sam answered softly, his hand still maddeningly pressing into Danny’s bicep, the layer of cloth separating their skin a godsend for Danny’s sudden onslaught of dizziness. 

“It’s just…” Sam trailed off, finally removing his hand and shaking his head. “Nah, never mind. You have a good night, now.”

“What?” Danny asked after him, his heart one beat away from pushing its way out of his chest. “It’s just what?”

“You just…I don’t know,” Sam shrugged. “See, I was talking to this nice guy during the rodeo and he was telling me all about you. Said you’re not like the other cowboys ‘round here. That you’re real respectful to the ladies. Maybe a little too respectful.”

“I don’t do what I do for girls,” Danny retorted harshly.

“Of course, of course. It’s just that I knew a fella like that back home in Kentucky. Real nice guy, real respectful, did what he did and then went right home. Church every Sunday, dinner at his momma’s every Friday. Nobody ever saw him on a proper date with any of those buckle bunnies screaming his name night after night, even when all his other rodeo pals couldn’t keep their hands off of them.”

Sam took a pause, looking off into the distance at the setting sun and smirking to himself, rubbing the back of his neck. He slid his eyes back over to Danny, giving him a chill.

“I knew him,” Sam purred, sucking his teeth and grinning. “I knew him real well. And he reminds me a lot of you.”

Danny, cold again, did nothing more than watch Sam toss him a wink and saunter off, flicking the flame on his lighter on and off as he went. Danny's cigarette finally dropped from his mouth and sizzled out on the ground, and he snapped out of his stupor to curse and defeatedly crush it underfoot. Blood roaring in his ears, he wished more than anything in that moment that Sam would leave him alone and fuck off back to Kentucky so Danny never had to see his mocking grin and swaying hips ever again. 

This sentiment didn't stay at the forefront of his mind for long, much to his chagrin. It seemed his subconscious had other opinions when late that night, with all the lights off and his cock in hand, it was the imagery of Sam’s curling lips and ridiculously small shorts that finally pushed him over the edge with a muffled cry of both satisfaction and frustration.

--

Danny figured that moment of weakness was nothing more than that, but decided that he’d do his best from that point on to avoid seeing Sam. It was Sam’s stupid insinuations that had put those thoughts in his head in the first place, so if he stayed away from him, he’d be sure to have a clear head again. 

And yet, everywhere he turned, there was Sam. Since their smoke session outside the barn, Sam had shown up to every single rodeo. He’d cycle between his rotation of flimsy flannels, sometimes not even bothering to button them up, or he’d tie them up to expose his midriff. His hair would be loose in dark waves, tucked behind his ears, tied into braids, and even once he’d had two plaits encircling his head like a halo. The only consistency in his garb was Danny’s damn hat, sticking out of the crowd like a personal declaration of a vendetta against Danny’s dedication to not look at Sam. 

And it wasn’t just Danny taking note of Sam’s glaring presence. His effeminate confidence was making waves with both women and men in the rodeo circles and everyone who frequented Carson’s, seeing as he’d started showing up with his brothers and playing piano along with them. He was becoming impossible to ignore, but still it seemed that he hadn’t made any actual friends since coming to Silver Creek. Danny had listened in on a conversation between two of the bareback buckers, hearing Sam’s name peppering their confusion surrounding how they each knew a score of people who had made a move on him and been kindly rejected, but only after they’d bought him a drink or two. Danny had frowned and tried to shake the information off, yet he spent the rest of the night spiraling about what the hell Sam was waiting for. And why did he care so much? 

Eventually, Danny realized that there was nowhere for him to hide. Not from Sam, not from his own weird feelings about him, not from himself. He made a new plan: Talk to Sam again, only this time, he was going to get the last word. They’d be conversing on Danny’s terms. He could get some insight into what Sam’s whole deal was and then, finally, move on from the haze that Sam had somehow trapped him in.

After a quick afternoon show, Danny had practically bolted from the stables so he could catch the crowd as they trickled out from the stands. He stood awkwardly on the side of the gravel path and combed through the bodies until he caught a glimpse of a familiar slender figure. Sam was walking and talking with one of Danny’s regular groupies, tossing his braid crimped waves over the shoulder of his maroon flannel as he laughed at something she said. 

“Sam!” Danny yelled before he had the time to think twice. 

Sam startled and looked around him before spotting Danny on the grass, looking back to share a pointed look with the girl before giving her a pat on the shoulder and elbowing his ways sideways through the flow of people to get to Danny. He hooked his thumbs in his belt loops and kept a neutral smile as Sam walked up to him, that familiar smug grin already on his face.

“Hi,” Sam greeted, a giggle at the very end of the word. “Haven’t seen you in a hot minute.”

“Now that’s not true, you come to all my shows,” Danny pointed out. Sam rolled his eyes dramatically. 

“You know what I mean.” 

“If you wanted to see me, you could’ve found me after,” Danny plowed on, unsure of where he was going but too flustered to back out. Sam hesitated, looking genuinely surprised. 

“Yeah, well, I wasn’t really sure if that was something I wanted to do after that painfully nice rejection you dealt me,” Sam admitted, some of the bashfulness that Danny had seen the first night they’d met starting to creep back into his voice. 

“Doesn’t mean we can’t be friends,” Danny declared. He swallowed nervously once he said it and Sam raised his brows in surprise.

“Is that what you want to talk to me about?” Sam asked, his voice low and gravelly, sending a chill down Danny’s spine. “You want to be my friend?”

“I suppose I do,” Danny answered truthfully, taking off his hat and resting it over his chest. “I’m worried we got off on the wrong foot. I know adjusting to a new place can be tough and I figure it might be easier with a friend.”

“Oh, you and your Southern hospitality,” Sam laughed bitterly. “I’m adjusting just fine, if you know what I mean.” His grin became saccharine and suggestive.

“That’s not what I’ve heard,” Danny countered, the speed of his response against his better judgment. The grin slipped off Sam’s face without even a whisper of the petulant protest that Danny expected. Sam scoffed and rolled his eyes again.

“I don’t need your pity,” Sam snipped, crossing his arms. Danny knew Sam was trying to be cool, but even in his cut off shirt and high riding shorts, he looked like a sour faced child. He looked, above all, hurt. Danny’s heart lurched anxiously.

“It’s not pity,” Danny argued truthfully. “I’m not offering you any kind of charity. I just think you and I could be friends. Maybe even good friends.”

Sam narrowed his eyes at Danny, still unconvinced of Danny’s sentiment. But after a moment of deep thought, Sam looked over his shoulder and then back at Danny before extending a hand towards him, his eyes jumping everywhere but Danny’s own.

“Then let’s be friends,” Sam agreed, his lids fluttering slightly when Danny took Sam’s hand in his own.

“Fantastic,” Danny smiled, keeping his cool while an electric pulse shot through his body, its source at the cool center of Sam’s slim palm. “Can I buy you a drink at Carson’s or something? I’ve got the evening off.”

“How friendly,” Sam said sarcastically, pulling his hand away but smiling. “Sure. Let’s just cross our fingers that my brothers aren’t there.”

“Why?” Danny asked, trailing behind Sam as he started walking. 

“If they see you buying me a drink, they’re going to really get the wrong idea,” Sam laughed, grinning at Danny over his shoulder like he hadn’t taken Sam’s teasing words like a rock to the face. Danny laughed, too, playing along with Sam’s light banter, trying not to trip over his own feet. 

Once at Carson’s, Danny bought them both a beer and the two of them got caught up in a casual conversation about their surface level facts. Danny kept a dedicated list of the personal anecdotes that Sam shared with him; he’d been a horse fan since he was young, he had a sister that still lived in Kentucky, he liked Silver Creek but wasn’t a fan of its relentless heat. Danny kept note of other things too, like the way Sam bit the skin on his thumb and very clearly didn’t enjoy the beer Danny had gotten him but sipped politely anyway. He seemed to struggle keeping his eyes on one place at a time, especially when looking at Danny, and often started new topics in the middle of sentences he never got to finish. 

It wasn’t until they had paid the tab and started heading out that Danny realized his plan of taking the lead in their dynamic and getting the last word in had gone completely out the window. He felt nearly drunk while he engaged in the conversation and listened keenly to Sam as they walked down Saguaro Ave., realizing absently that he actually wasn’t sure where Sam was going. But Danny followed him nonetheless, teasing Sam for the wandering way his legs moved as he ambled down the dirt road and sent lizards fleeing from the gravel he kicked up. 

“Oh, please, I’m very graceful,” Sam insisted after nearly avoiding rolling his ankle on a particularly rocky patch of road. “I used to be a dancer, you know.”

“Yeah?” Danny inquired further. “Not sure if I can picture you as a ballerina.”

“Well, I wasn’t quite a ballerina,” Sam laughed, his cheeks glowing red in the golden hour sunlight that soaked them as it poured over the horizon. Sam began walking backwards to face Danny, and a thought popped into Danny’s head, simple and succinct:

 He looks beautiful. 

With flowing limbs and his tan skin burning amber in the dying light of the sun, he couldn’t kick the thought and the rush of emotions it brought. He wanted to walk away as much as he wanted to follow Sam right into the eye of the sun at his back.

 For the first time in hours, he remembered that night where Sam had breathed that confession in his ear, and what it had done to him when he’d gotten home. Danny had been beyond ashamed the moment after he’d finished, and deep down he knew that shame of thinking of him that way and also that it had been Sam was what actually had pushed him to befriend him. How could he stay away? Should he apologize? Did he really swing the way he had promised he didn’t?

Danny was digging himself deeper into his own mind as he walked, not realizing he had fallen silent until Sam did too, looking at Danny like he was crazy until Danny blinked and shook his head.

“Pardon?” he stammered, which was met by a cackle from Sam.

“Where’d you get off to, partner?” Sam asked, mocking Danny’s drawl in the way he stressed ‘partner’. “Daydreaming?”

“That beer is going right to my head, it seems,” Danny lied, running a hand through his hair and shaking his curls out again, forcing a smile. 

“Sure,” Sam said in his light tone that Danny knew meant he didn’t believe a word out of his mouth. “Well, I’ll let you off the hook just this once ‘cause we’re here.”

“Here?” Danny echoed dumbly.

Sam had strolled right up to the door of a small orange stucco house with wide pleated blinds and a half hearted row of flowers by the dusty welcome mat. 

“Here, silly,” Sam smiled. “My house. I thought I’d have to ask you to walk me home but you didn’t ask any questions so I figured I’d just keep on keeping on. I hope I didn’t take you too far from your own place.”

“You kiddin’?” Danny laughed. “I live two streets down.”

“Wow. That’s convenient.”

“Why?” Danny asked a little too urgently and Sam arched a brow at him.

“For, you know, hanging out?” Sam answered. “Like friends do.”

“Yes,” Danny responded. “Of course. I just-”

“Don’t sweat it, cowboy,” Sam cut him off, digging a key out of his pocket and turning towards the door, looking back at Danny with a smile. “See you tomorrow?”

“That’ll be just fine,” Danny replied, mirroring his soft smile. “You have a good night now.” “You too. Goodnight.”

Danny watched Sam turn the key in the lock and open the door a bit, giving him one more smile before stepping inside. Before he could stop himself, Danny found himself speaking again.

“Hey,” Danny blurted out and Sam stopped in his tracks, facing Danny again with his doe eyes wide and mouth pursed in a moment of curious surprise. 

“Uh,” Danny started again, growing hotter by the minute. “Your man in Kentucky. The one you said that I remind you of.”

“Uh huh,” Sam said softly, leaning his hip against the doorframe. 

“What did you mean by that?”

“Like, why do I think you’re similar?”

“Yes,” Danny said, his voice quiet and a little desperate. 

Sam looked at him for another beat, clearly fighting a smile.

“Well,” Sam began quietly, looking down at his boots for a moment before staring up at Danny through his lashes like he had during that first rodeo. “You’re just a couple of real nice boys who know how to keep their hands to themselves when it’d be real easy not to. You both pay attention to things that the other cowboys don’t.”

“Like?”

“Me.”

Danny’s jaw set and they stared each other down, Sam tilting his head maddeningly to assess Danny’s eyes quickly clouding. 

“And were you two friends?” Danny asked, his words spitting in a way he didn’t have a grasp on.

Sam fell silent. He put a hand back on the door, looked Danny up and down, and then turned back into the house.

“No,” Sam answered curtly. “We were fucking, Danny. Goodnight, now.”

With another little smile and flick of his hair, Sam strode through the doorway and slammed the door behind him, the lock audibly clicking as Danny stood there beet red in the face.

--

Somehow, it was never brought up again. Starting the very next day, Danny and Sam were nothing but the best of friends, even if everyone in town had a very different idea of what was going on between them. They weren't wrong for jumping to conclusions, considering that despite the intense platonic line that seemed to have been drawn on both sides, Danny was falling deeper and deeper into his spiral. For him, the routine of his job and the time spent with other friends became a mechanical compulsion. Everything else to him was nothing but Sam, Sam, Sam.

 He saw him before and after shows, met him for lunch on his measly excuse of a porch, and bought him a drink at the bar every night. Danny never seemed to grow tired of the endless roads their conversations took him down, and as far as he knew, Sam felt the same way. Sam had gotten a job pitching paints and cleaning supplies down at the general store. Even though he met all kinds of people every day, all Sam did was complain about them to Danny. That really made Danny feel special. On a night after a few too many cocktails, Sam had even said it to his face.

"You're the only person I actually like around here," Sam confessed with a rosy cheeked laugh, tapping his nails against his glass. "Everybody at work wants to hit on me or get to know me and it's just so blah. I can't talk to people like I can talk to you."

"I think that's the nicest thing you've ever said to me," Danny chuckled, Sam's words mixing with the alcohol in his blood and warming him up. 

"No way," Sam argued, his dark eyes and blown out pupils overtaking his face as he blinked blindly at Danny. "I'm extremely nice to you."

"Is that what you call it?"

"Oh, you love it."

And Danny did. He really, really did. As much as it embarrassed him, it was Sam's harsher tirades that tended to resurface all those terrifying feelings that Danny tried to push aside to keep their friendship alive. When Sam's tone turned cocky and jeering, all while grinning as sweet as honey while he took fun loving jabs at Danny, Danny would go home with his head spinning and his pants uncomfortably tight. What made it even worse is that Sam seemed to be well aware of his effect on Danny. He had been from the beginning, really, but his persistent flirtation under the guise of friendly teasing never went away. Despite his insistence that he had moved far past his initial crush, Sam liked to prod. And prod and prod and prod.

“Tell me something, Wagner,” Sam began one evening as they sat in rickety chairs on Danny’s leaning porch. “We’ve been friends for a month now.”

“Keen observation,” Danny interjected with a laugh, earning a smack on the arm from Sam.

“I wasn’t done, smartass,” Sam snapped, pointing at him with the neck of his beer bottle. “What I was going to say is that we’ve been friends for a month now and I haven’t seen you on a date one single time. Weren’t you saying you have your pick of the bunch with the rodeo girls?”

“Oh, come on now,” Danny muttered into a sip of his drink, his stomach flipping anxiously. “I do! I just, I’ve taken them all out already.”

“People come from all over the state to see you rope, cowboy. You’ve taken out every girl out of town and in town?”

“Maybe I have,” Danny grinned, winking and turning to stare at the lowering sun before he could catch Sam’s expression. Sam made an incredulous noise. 

“You’re bad at being a cowboy,” Sam accused. It was Danny’s turn to exhale in surprise and offense.

“Bad at being a cowboy? Excuse you?” Danny sputtered, turning in his seat to face Sam, who was smiling smugly at staring firmly out across the street. “How does me not wining and dining a bunch of strangers make me a bad cowboy? I’m a great cowboy, thank you very much.”

“You just keep mentioning how you get hit on all the time by them,” Sam pointed out, a weird edge to his voice. “And you talk a big game. Clearly one of those things ain’t true and, you know what they say, lying isn’t a very becoming trait of a cowboy.”

“Oh, shut up. What do you care, anyway?”

“I don’t,” Sam said tightly. “I’ve just been meaning to inform you you’re a liar.”

“Congratulations, you found one thing I lied about,” Danny drawled sarcastically, rolling his eyes, a trait of Sam’s that he’d picked up. “Everybody lies. I bet you lie all the time.”

“Me? Nah, I’m a truthful little angel.”

“Come on, tell me a lie, Sam. Like you said, we passed the one month mark of friendship. Now we start getting into the real nitty gritty stuff.”

Sam was quiet, biting his tongue as he squinted in deep thought, his finely sculpted profile lit up from the sun in his face. Danny took the opportunity to look at him freely, his heart fluttering like a nervous teenager. 

“I don’t know, man, I don’t think I can conjure a lie on the spot,” Sam finally spoke, shrugging and taking a deep drink.

“Then tell me the last time you lied to me,” Danny pushed on, kicking Sam’s boot with his own. “If at all.”

“Oh, today,” Sam answered immediately.

“What!” Danny laughed. “You answered so fast! What was it?”

“You never said I had to say what it was!”

“Tell me, come on.”

“No!”

“You’re cruel, Sam,” Danny declared dramatically, emptying his beer and shaking his head in disappointment. “I’ve never had a friend as cruel as you.”

“That still makes me special,” Sam whispered, smiling wickedly. It was almost as if he was saying it to himself, and Danny answered it with silence. 

“Hey, we should do something tomorrow night,” Sam suggested. “To toast our friendship.”

“Is that a thing people do?” Danny asked, genuinely curious and trying not to be flustered. Here Sam was again, toeing the line that he himself had drawn. 

“It can be a thing we do,” Sam answered, shrugging innocently again. “We don’t have to.”

“No, no, that could be fun,” Danny answered hurriedly. “Maybe it could be an excuse for me to fire up my oven and actually cook something.”

“You gonna cook me a meal?” Sam asked, his tone bordering between jest and apprehension. 

“I can certainly try,” Danny offered as casually as he could. “Bring me some liquor and I’ll whip us up a certified feast.”

“And will we be eating out cans of the baked bean or corned beef hash variety?”

“No, no, it’ll be a proper dinner,” Danny insisted despite how his brain immediately started second guessing him. “What time you free?”

“I get off work at 5.” 

“It’ll be ready by 6.”

“I don’t believe you.”

“You’ll believe me when you smell how good it is from halfway down the block.”

“There you are talking a big game again,” Sam laughed, his eyes sparkling in the light. “Now my expectations are higher than hopes.”

The truth was that Danny was a horrible cook and an even worse liar, but as he listened to Sam roast him, he figured this might be a perfect opportunity to overcome both of those things. It could be a chance to overcome his lie of being a great cook and actually dish up a meal worth eating, but more importantly, a chance to overcome a particularly choice lie he’d been dancing around since Sam had come into his life. 

After Sam had left, Danny made an official decision. He was going to make dinner, and then after, he was going to tell Sam the truth. Before that, he realized he had to figure out exactly what the truth was. Was it that he’d been breathless since he’d first seen Sam’s face? Or maybe that he’d been sure since long before he met Sam that he was much more prone to being sweet on other men? Danny felt tears springing to his eyes as he laid in bed staring at the ceiling, pushing them away with the rough heel of his hand as he tried to conceptualize how he could fit all his thoughts into a few succinct phrases. Would it be enough to simply tell Sam he cared for him in a way that he didn’t care for anybody else? God, would Sam even want to hear it? His worst fear was that Sam would think Danny just wanted him for the things that all the men Sam had grown to hate had wanted from him. A million questions passed through Danny’s head as he fell into a shallow, restless sleep, hoping he’d awaken with some kind of clarity about what to do.

--

He did not. Instead, Danny chose to chase the morning sunrise with a cup of coffee peppered with a healthy splash from his flask in it, staring hopelessly out the window at the town starting to come to life. It was a rare day where he didn’t have any shows, so he spent the day becoming acquainted with the cookbooks his mother had sent him with when he moved to Silver Creek. When he went through the grocery store line with more than two bags of supplies, the cashier looked genuinely proud of him.

“Got a special guest coming over tonight, cowpoke?” he asked, ringing up bags of vegetables and plastic packages of meat.

“Just decided I need a decent meal is all,” Danny answered. 

Yes, he thought.

 As he hauled his bags home, he wondered if it would be too much to get flowers. Not that there were any florists in Silver Creek, but maybe he could run around town and gather them from the sprouts of natural greenery that were few and far between. He passed the general store and peered through the window hoping for a glimpse of Sam, but came up short. He figured it was probably for the best, he didn’t want to freak himself out any more than he already was. 

For anybody else, it probably wouldn’t have taken as long, but it took Danny the majority of the day to prepare their dinner, taking bites of the produce along the way to make it count as a “lunch”. It was a pretty simple brisket with a side of vegetables, but Danny was very cautious around his kitchen appliances, so he worked slow and steady and only cut his fingers once. He dragged out his only nice dining table cloth and set it down, standing idly with one hand on it as he had a mental battle about whether or not candles would be too extravagant of a touch, finally deciding against it with a wave of his hand. He stood in front of his mirror a while, switching between shirts before settling on a warm button down with its first few buttons undone. He shrugged jackets on and off before deciding not to wear one at all, hurriedly throwing on his cleanest jeans and equipping one of his more expensive belt buckles, seeing as it was a special occasion. The minutes before Sam’s arrival were spent panicking that he had gone completely overboard and over thought the entire thing. Danny wrung his hands and paced the length of his voice, circling the dishes in the kitchen a few times before Sam’s distinct knock rang out. Danny let out a quiet but hurried breath of anxiety before smoothing his sweaty palms against his jeans and striding over to the door, pulling together a calm and contented facial expression as he opened the door. 

Sam smiled up at him, cradling a bottle of wine that leaned against his sky blue linen button down. It made his skin look even more sunkissed, along with his pale jeans and white cowboy boots. His hair hung down in thick waves and was topped by, once again, Danny’s tan cowboy hat. Sam hadn’t worn it in a few days and Danny laughed at seeing it, flicking the brim and stepping back to let Sam walk into the house.

“To what do I owe the pleasure of seeing my own hat?” Danny joked as Sam set down the wine bottle.

“It seemed like it was an occasion special enough to warrant its usage,” Sam explained with a smile, looking around and catching a glimpse of the carefully crafted plates that Danny had assembled. “Well, I’ll be. You actually made dinner, you son of a bitch.”

“Have you no faith in me?” Danny asked as he waltzed into the kitchen and opened his silverware drawer to pull out forks and napkins for the both of them. “Come on, have a seat. I’m greatly looking forward to hearing you talk about how great it is.”

“I’ve always admired how humble you are,” Sam teased as he pulled out a chair and took a seat. “Got a wine opener?”

“You know I do,” Danny answered, pulling it out of the same drawer and curling it into his palm as he picked up the plates and brought them over to the table. He set the plates down in their places and handed the wine opener to Sam, who accepted it with a quiet ‘thank you’ and then proceeded to struggle greatly with actually using it. This was much to Danny’s amusement, who insisted over and over that he could just do it, but Sam struggled with it stubbornly until it popped open and he erupted with a triumphant yell. 

They drank out of jam jars and cleaned their plates, much to Danny’s relief. Sam held out on him for the first few bites, but admitted that it was delicious and insisted he wouldn’t provide any extra compliments until Danny stopped clapping and cheering for himself. It wasn’t any different than the other meals and drinks they’d shared in recent times, but as Danny tried to distract himself by keeping up with Sam’s quick wit, he couldn’t stop thinking about how he was going to bring it up. He prayed a moment of quiet would arrive where he could slip in a quick interlude and just get it over with, but their conversations were never wrought with natural pauses. Eventually, they ended up in Danny’s tiny living room, clutching their jars of wine and sitting on opposite ends of Danny’s (thankfully for him) long couch while they talked. 

Danny’s wine began to really hit him after it had gotten so dark that Danny had to start a shoddily assembled fire in the hearth, watching the flame grow with a satisfied pride as he knelt on the floor. 

“That’s really roaring now, huh?” Danny commented proudly.

“That may be the tallest fire I’ve ever seen in a fireplace,” Sam remarked coolly, a snide flirtation in his tone. “I mean, we should really call someone about getting you an award for that.”

“Ha ha,” Danny deadpanned, looking over his shoulder to throw Sam a sour look.

Instead, he saw Sam had migrated to the uncharted middleground of the couch, pulling the throw blanket that Danny had draped over the edge of the couch around his shoulders as he grinned at Danny. In the firelight, Sam was completely aglow with soft orange light, his eyes and hair taking on an unearthly fiery quality that somehow made him look gentle. Danny felt himself looking a second too long, and then a few seconds too long, and then nearly a minute long as he gawked at Sam and felt his stomach sinking lower and lower. Sam’s smile drifted down into a neutral expression and then a confused one as Danny tried to play off his blatant staring by looking back into the fire, poking it absently as if it needed it.

“What?” Sam asked.

“What?” Danny asked right back.

“You got all weird for a second.”

“I didn’t.”

“You did!” Sam laughed like it was obvious, which it was. “Are you tipsy or something?”

“I guess,” Danny answered weakly, knowing his meek language was even more suspicious than he was already being.

“You’re an odd duck,” Sam chuckled, wrapping the blanket further around his shoulders and nuzzling in. “Your fire isn’t working yet, I’m still chilly.”

“Patience, sheesh,” Danny quipped as he got up and away from the fire, finding the courage to sit back down on the couch, choosing a slightly closer spot than he had before and taking a sip of his wine. “I can feel it, it’s warmer over here now.”

“Mm,” Sam hummed, taking his own drink. “Maybe you’re right.”

When Sam leaned forward to put his jar down on the small table that accompanied the couch, his legs butterflied outwards and his knee dug into Danny’s own, which was spaced wide by his spreading sit. Danny tried not to jerk at the touch, and he struggled to remain still and unfazed when Sam leaned back against the plush cushion and his legs didn’t shift at all, the denim of their jeans now the only thing barely separating them. Danny looked down at the spot where their knees leaned on each other and, stupidly, looked to Sam as if expecting an explanation. Sam said nothing, instead staring blankly at Danny as if nothing had happened. But Danny knew that nothing truly meant nothing to Sam, and he looked away and into the fire to sit in the realization that if he needed a moment to act upon, it was now. He opened his mouth slightly to take in a breath of confidence, hesitating before turning to Sam. However, in typical fashion, Sam was too fast for him.

“Hey,” Sam rasped quietly, moving his knee away from Danny’s and crossing it over the other. He pushed himself up a little higher in his seat. “Um, I kind of wanted to say something.”

“Oh,” Danny blurted in shock, his chest seizing with fear and sending cold trickles through his body. “Me too, actually, but you can, uh, go first.”

“It’s nothing, it’s nothing, I just…” Sam trailed off, rubbing nervously at his chin before looking at Danny, his eyes full of ferocious sincerity. “It’s a stupid question, actually.”

“I’m open to it,” Danny replied honestly.

“Cool, cool.”

Sam paused again and Danny thought he was going to pass out from the anticipation.

“I wanted to ask…why. That sounds too simple, wait,” Sam stammered, squeezing his eyes and wrinkling his brow. “I wanted to ask you why you gave me your hat.”

“My hat,” Danny repeated absentmindedly, hoping the rush of color that he felt in his face wasn’t visible in the firelight. “That’s not a silly question.”

“You don’t have to answer it if you don’t want to,” Sam insisted, backing away from his previous surge of confidence. “Like, I’m sure it’s nothing crazy, I was just, you know, there were a lot of people so I was wondering if you had some kind of…method. Or if it was totally random. I don’t care either way, I’m just, you know, curious.”

Sam let out a tiny breath as he ran out of steam and looked at Danny expectantly, the flickering visage of the fire fanning across his curious face and pulsing like a string of lights woven through his hair. Danny truly had no idea how to answer that even though the truth rested at the forefront of his mind.

I picked you because you were the most beautiful person I’d ever seen in my life, Danny answered in his own mind. I’d never even done that before that day. I’m lucky I didn’t fall off my horse the way that I couldn’t tear my eyes from your face. I gave you my hat because I wanted you to come find me and drag me into your life and cup my face in your hands. I wish I hadn’t been so terrified of getting what I wanted in that moment. But I want to stay in your life in any capacity and I want you to know that no matter what we are to each other, I would’ve given you the hat each and every time. Even if I never saw you again, it would’ve been worth it for the single strand of your hair wrapping around my finger for a second or two. 

In reality, Danny was silent. He feigned deep thought before he realized that he wasn’t remotely capable of saying what he thought. But he didn’t want to leave Sam hanging for an answer in this frustrating seizure of his mental capability. In a single moment of lucidity, Danny found a way to answer Sam the way he wanted to.

Danny, twisting at the hip, moved forward and caught Sam by the back of his neck before sealing the space between them and kissing him. He felt his brain blink to a blank channel as he felt the pressure of Sam’s soft lips against his own and the weight of Sam’s hair falling over the back of his hand. After what felt like a century of passing time, Sam’s mouth opened against his with a gasp of air and a shaky whimper, pressing against Danny with a rush of grabbing hands and angled jaws. Danny’s brain roared with a rush of blinding serotonin and he nearly laughed with relief as he pawed at Sam’s hip and dove his fingers under Sam’s shirt, his fingers sliding against the soft, sensitive skin of Sam’s slender waist. Sam, falling apart in a shower of whines and sighs, messily shifted his body further onto the couch and eventually onto Danny’s lap, sitting harshly and making Danny let out an involuntary groan. He moved the hand cradling Sam’s cheek down to his hips and dug his fingers in, anchoring Sam against him and causing Sam to let out a delicious whimper.

“Baby,” Sam whispered against Danny’s mouth, unable to tear away. Danny sighed in response, pulling Sam closer by the hip. He relaxed into the warmth of Sam’s arms encircling his neck and propped his head up against them to angle perfectly against Sam’s mouth. Danny was pretty convinced he never wanted to come up for air, but eventually his reflexes made him jerk his head back ever so slightly so he could breathe in a deep rush of cool night air, his mouth slick with spit. Sam’s eyes were round and starry, his pupils nearly overtaking the warm brown of his irises as he stared breathlessly down at Danny, the both of them panting in silence as they marveled at the other.

“Hi,” Danny whispered, his voice dry and gravelly and unmistakably shy.

“Hi,” Sam answered brightly, wiggling slightly under Danny’s touch. “So, what is it you wanted to say?”

“That was-that was basically what I was going to say,” Danny said between little gasps, swallowing and staring unabashedly at Sam’s glossy and flushed lips. “Does that answer your question?”

“Yeah,” Sam relinquished, pressing kisses to the high planes of Danny’s cheekbones and traveling down to his cheeks. “Knew you were a dirty liar.”

“Sue me,” Danny chuckled weakly. “Sorry for-”

“Don’t sweat it,” Sam interjected. “I knew you’d figure it out.”

“Aw, so sweet to me,” Danny murmured, leaning in to chase another kiss. Sam met him and dragged his fingers through Danny’s curls as he held Danny close to him, smiling against his lips when his fingers caught a little knot and Danny let out a muffled whine of pain. Danny reached up and slowly pushed the blanket off of Sam’s slim shoulders, hearing it drop to the floor as he smoothed a large palm up Sam’s chest, his fingers brushing over the patch of skin exposed at his throat and making him shiver. 

Danny figured that Sam would be the one to walk the line of ferality, but as the minutes passed and their button downs slowly migrated to the floor, he found himself being worked into a frenzy like he’d never experienced before. Every miniscule buck of Sam’s hips and the scent of his heady, wine sweet breath was enough to make Danny’s blood pound in his ears and knock the breath out of him. He had a pretty good idea of where this was headed, and he was suddenly very nervous when he realized that when they got there, he’d have absolutely no idea what to do. 

Eventually, Danny pulled away and took a moment to admire Sam again. His slender, sweaty chest was heaving and he reached up to pat his hat further down onto his hair, which swayed as he tilted his head to try and evaluate Danny’s expression.

“You look like a regular cowboy,” Danny complimented and Sam laughed, shooting him a wink and holding the brim of his hat as he started to rock back and forth on Danny’s lap. The friction was enough to make Danny grunt and grasp Sam’s hips again, trying to hold him in place and failing miserably. Sam leaned forward towards Danny, propping himself on the back of the couch as he kissed up Danny’s throat.

“Do you remember when we first met and you asked me a question?” Sam asked breathily in Danny’s ear, slowing his faux cowboy trot on Danny’s lap but not fully stopping.

“I can’t think of much of anything with you looking like that,” Danny replied honestly and Sam chuckled in his ear, the vibration sending another delicious jolt down Danny’s already painfully sensitive neck.

“Well, you did,” Sam continued. “And I lied to you. Just wanted to apologize for that.”

“What did I ask you..?”

Sam sat upright again, holding Danny by the jaw and giving him another kiss before murmuring his answer against his lips.

“You asked me if I ride. I said I don’t, but that whole time I was thinking that for you, I’d love nothing more than to show you just how well I can ride.”

Danny gawked at him for a moment, Sam drinking in his shocked silence with a smug grin as he brushed Danny’s hair back sweetly and softly bit his bottom lip. 

“I don’t…” Danny trailed off, shaking his head slightly. “I don’t know what to do.”

“We don’t have to do anything you don’t want to,” Sam whispered. “But if you do, I’ll show you.”

“I do,” Danny blurted immediately. “I do, yes, I just, you know, be patient with me.”

“Of course,” Sam said gently. “Can you just promise me one thing?”

“Anything.”

“Can we still be friends after this? Turns out I actually really like having a friend, especially if it’s you.”

“Of course we can still be friends,” Danny answered, cupping Sam’s cheek and smoothing his thumb soothingly over his soft skin. “As long as you don’t mind me being very fond of you along with it.”

“I expect it, actually,” Sam smiled. “Now, will you take me to bed?”

“What’s the magic word?” Danny grinned, nuzzling his nose against Sam’s as Sam rolled his eyes and locked his arms around Danny’s neck once more.

“Please,” Sam replied faux begrudgingly. “Please take me to bed.”

“Very good,” Danny hummed, wrapping his arms around Sam’s waist and hoisting him up around his hips before standing up like he weighed nothing at all. “That’s my boy.”

“Oh, I’m yours now?” Sam teased, locking his legs around Danny’s lower back as Danny slowly made his way down the hall towards his bedroom.

“If you’d like to be, sure,” Danny said warmly. Sam paused for a moment, a small giddiness starting to buzz in his face.

“If I was, you wouldn’t hide me away?” Sam asked quietly, his voice catching slightly but playing it off by clearing his throat. “You’d tell people I was yours?”

“I’ll scream it from the rooftops if you want me to,” Danny replied, setting Sam down on the quilt atop his four poster bed. His heart sank as he thought of the times when Sam hadn’t had someone as proud to have him, which seemed like a pretty ridiculous concept to Danny. Now that he knew he had him, it was going to take a lot of restraint not to announce it to every person he passed on the street. Sam smiled shyly up at him, almost grateful.

“I’ll be yours, then,” Sam purred, leaning back on his elbows. “But you’re going to have to come and get me first.”

Danny grinned down at him, closing the door behind him before descending passionately on Sam and causing him to erupt in a burst of giggles that morphed into a stream of sighs and gentle moans that carried on long into a blue morning. Danny had spent so much of his life chasing after things that ran from him, even after he’d caught them and tied them down. Now here was something that had run after him, and as the time passed in Sam’s orbit and he felt the sensation of being tied down himself, he realized that this might’ve been what he really wanted all along.

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