#ive been asleep

[kugelfische]

" Earth light,

earth bright,

first earth I see tonight ", (Leonard Nimoy Presents Mr. Spock’s Music from Outer Space (1967))

[hellsitegenetics]

We looked at BLAST in my school today.. felt like seeing a celebrity in the wild. 😭

[s0fter-sin]

09 ghost sleeps curled up as tight as possible; knees tucked to his chest, arms wrapped protectively around them, wedged into the corner against the wall. anything he can to try and feel secure

that doesn't change when he finally starts staying after sex with mactavish; even with mactavish there he just can't let himself relax. can’t convince himself that he’s safe

mactavish notices; of course he does, he notices everything about riley

that's why he also notices when it starts to change

months pass and riley stops tucking his arms under his legs, instead just loosely holding them to his chest. then his legs start to relax, slowly spreading out until mactavish can fit his arm between them and his chest for riley to latch onto

it takes years, unwinding muscle by muscle before he finally sleeps splayed out across the bed. he doesn't shove himself into the corner anymore

instead, he trusts mactavish; trusts him to have his back, trusts his bulk to hide him from anyone that would burst through the door

he sleeps better with mactavish's arm slung over his waist, his stomach pressing into his back and legs tangled through his own, than he ever did curled into the corner

[baejax-the-great]

[deeisace]

Ah. It appears to be nighttime.

[brainrotcharacters]

Logan at the convoy where he must have barked at Johnny "Hey, hey! Shut your fucking mouth. Let him sleep. 😡"

Wade absolutely knocked out leaning on his shoulder.

[spectersgf]

tyler owens knowing you for years and years and asking you out countless times but you always reject him and he has no idea why. when he asks you for the reason you don't tell him and laugh it off. he makes a bet with (about bullriding; you don't think he's still got it but he knows he does. if he proves you wrong, you have to go on a date with him. of course, you lose.)

you're expecting something low effort — maybe he'll take you to dinner, maybe a drive, something like that. when he picked you up and started driving (in his storm chasing truck, ofc) you thought your prediction was right but he proved you wrong again. he drove you out to a clearing and obviously you made a classic serial killer joke which he laughed at maybe too hard (was it actually that funny?)

he got out of the truck and walked around to your side to open your door and help you down but instead of pulling you to some stupid rock or something, he brings you to the bed of his truck. you hadn't noticed the blankets and pillows and cushions and stuffed lamb that he'd arranged there. you were truly in awe.

he helped you up and the two of you laid back and got comfortable (and extremely close. his eyes were the most beautiful blend of blue and green). the sky was clear and when you looked up it felt like all of the stars were right there. you could feel his gaze on you and it made you blush heavily but you didn't look back at him.

eventually he wore you down and you finally told him why you never went out with him. it wasn't because he was a cocky asshole and you weren't interested. it was because you were scared of getting attached and then something happens to him during a chase. where would that leave you?

he reassures you that he is in fact a professional and you have nothing to worry about, baby and he gives you the most charming but genuine and true smile and it makes you melt and how did you never go out with him before tonight.

the night progresses and you talk about everything and nothing and point out constellations and you're getting closer and closer and soon you're wrapped up in his arms and his nose is in your hair and he isn't going to kiss you on the first date because he's a gentleman but best believe next time he will because he absolutely cannot resist, even on a day-to-day basis and he isn't sure how he has this much self control tonight because you're bathed in moonlight and you look so happy and at peace and he really really wants to but he won't because he was raised right.

when he drops you home he gives you that smile again and this time it's you who can't resist and you lean across the truck and all its weird buttons and you kiss him and it's soft and gentle and affectionate and perfect and when you leave him half-stunned in his truck, you're both left thinking about how perfectly you fit together and you've never been happier about losing a bet.

[celestie0]

“gojo sayin ‘you cryin?’ on loop 10min”

“gojo sayin ‘next’ on loop 2 hrs”

“gojo heavy breathing on loop 24 hrs”

OK BUT CAN SOMEONE MAKE GOJO SNEEZING ON LOOP FOR 24 HRS PLS

[fraternum-momentum]

bonus: "washing off" Kylar's wounds:

[wolfjackle-creates]

I took part in the Demon Twins Who Wrote That game over on the Haunting Heroes DPxDC server and author reveals were today. So now I can finally post the fic I wrote for it!

No Place Left to Hide

Danny is on the run. He wants nothing more than to see his family, but they're out of his reach at the moment. Then he sees a magazine article and accompanying photo of Damian Wayne. His long-lost twin brother. Maybe he does have some family he can check on. Just to spy from a distance, of course. Getting too close would only make his situation worse. But when he gets caught in the halls of Gotham Academy, he might not have a choice in the matter.

AO3 Link

Word Count: 3.1k

Rating: T

Warning: a trans Danny mentions his deadname to Damian

-----

Danny stared down at Gotham Academy. Damian was just inside those walls. All he’d have to do was go intangible and he’d be able to see his twin for the first time in eight years. The thought made his core ache, a throbbing that echoed in his still-healing injuries.

He was descending before ever consciously making the choice to actually see his brother.

It was stupid. What if Damian caught him? Told Talia, or worse, Ra’s? Then it wouldn’t just be the Fentons and the GIW after him, but also the League of Assassins. And he was already injured.

But he had to see. He hadn’t seen Damian in years. Had lived half his life without his twin at this point.

He should leave. He shouldn’t be here at all.

A moment later, he’d phased through the roof and floated invisibly in the middle of a locker-lined hallway. He allowed gravity to once more take control of him and his feet settled on the linoleum floor.

Now, to find Damian. Just to see him, make sure he was safe. The rest of his family were out of his reach; the GIW was monitoring them too closely for Danny to risk visiting. Or even just check in from a distance. And Danny’s core was demanding he check on his loved ones.

He’d been debating risking a visit to them regardless of the risk when he saw the magazine article: Wayne Boy Volunteers at Animal Shelter. The attached picture brought a smile to Danny’s face. One of the few genuine smiles he’d worn since being forced on the run. In it, Damian was glaring at the camera, but his arms were gentle as he cradled a puppy. Behind him stood Bruce Wayne, grinning widely. In the article, Bruce talked about how proud he was of his youngest son and his big heart. Back when they’d been with the League, Danny had been the only one to know of Damian’s gentleness.

Reading the article, seeing the picture had healed something in Danny. Damian had gotten out. Something he’d thought impossible when he left half a lifetime ago.

And now he was here to confirm it. To check on the twin he’d left behind. Make sure he was healthy and safe and happy. He’d never seen Damian be any of those things before. Not beyond fleeting moments carved out in secret.

Though… He looked around the empty hallway and bit his lip. The school was huge and he had no idea what Damian’s schedule looked like. Where should he even start?

Footsteps echoed down the hall and Danny instinctively moved to the side to let whomever it was pass.

Only to feel a hand grip his shoulder.

Danny just barely kept himself from twisting and throwing a punch at the person. He wasn’t able stop himself from jumping a foot in the air, though. And if he hung in the air a bit longer than gravity should’ve allowed, well, Danny could only hope the person gripping his arm didn’t notice.

“Wayne, why are you in the hallways out of uniform rather than in your class?”

Danny blinked in surprise. “What?” he asked. This guy couldn’t actually have mistaken him for Damian, could he have? They weren’t identical twins. They didn’t even have the same skin tone!

Though Danny did suppose he’d gotten more tanned lately. Being on the run meant he was spending much more time outside than normal and he always did tan pretty well, one thing to thank Talia for he supposed.

The hall monitor rolled his eyes. “Where are you supposed to be right now?”

Danny opened his mouth, then shut it again. Should he disappear? But what if the teacher reported it? Would the GIW come to investigate? Would Damian, growing up around Lazarus pits, ping on their sensors?

He stayed put and he stayed silent.

The teacher sniffed and pulled out his phone. After tapping a bit, he announced, “History with Mr. Binder. I’ll accompany you back and we will be contacting your father about this behavior.”

He grabbed Danny’s shoulder again and marched him through the hallways. Danny allowed it, not sure what else to do. And still so desperate to see his brother.

When they reached what must be Damian’s classroom, the man knocked once, then pushed the door open.

“Sorry for the interruption, Mr. Binder. But I found one of your students wandering the hallways.”

Danny had barely glanced inside the classroom when his eyes fell on Damian. Everything else fell away. He didn’t see the other kids, didn’t hear Mr. Binder’s response. All he could see was Damian.

Even sitting, it was clear Damian was taller than Danny. His hair was shorter, his muscles more defined. And he was holding his pencil like it was a dagger he was going to throw through Danny’s throat.

Danny grinned and, speaking a language he’d barely used in eight years, said, “It’s been a long time, brother.”

Damian’s eyes narrowed further, but he kept his posture relaxed. Except for his grip on his pencil. “You’re no brother of mine. Who are you?” asked Damian, also in Arabic.

Danny clutched his hands to his chest. “How could you not remember me?” he wailed. But he couldn’t keep up the feigned offense for more than a second and grinned. “Though, I suppose you did used to call me sister. A lot’s changed in eight years, brother. Liat died in the league; I go by Danny now.”

At Danny’s mention of his deadname, the pencil fell from Damian’s hands. The sound of it hitting the floor was loud in the otherwise silent room. But when Damian spoke, his voice was steady. “Prove it.”

Danny inclined his head in a mock bow. “If you insist,” he said, switching to English. “The sun did not shine, it was too wet to play. So we sat in the house, all that cold, cold, wet day.”

Damian stood, sending his chair tumbling to the floor. “Enough!”

Danny obediently stopped reciting and grinned at Damian.

Damian hated The Cat in the Hat. Danny had heard it when he’d been sent to a daycare on one of his first missions to slip a child a mild poison that’d leave her sick for a few days and a letter for her father, a man who’d been planning to betray the league.

Danny had fallen in love. He’d smuggled the book out with him when he’d finished his task. The idea of a cat in a hat coming to the league and causing a bit of destruction helped him withstand the endless trainings and trials. Besides, their grandfather and mother deserved it. And Damian just didn’t see.

Though now Danny realized that was because Damian had never been allowed to glimpse what life could be outside the League. Danny, on the other hand, had been trained in spying and infiltration. Which meant he had to understand how kids his age worked and thought and acted. So he had to be around them with some regularity.

What he’d learned was that he wanted their lives, not his own. A lesson he tried, and failed, to teach Damian.

Before either Damian or Danny could think of something to say to each other, the History teacher cleared his throat. “Damian, what is going on here?”

Damian immediately stood to attention, just as Talia had taught him. “I apologize for the intrusion. My… brother came for an unexpected visit. May we be excused to the office so I can call my father?”

“I wasn’t aware you had another sibling your age,” said the teacher with a raised eyebrow.

“He’s from my mother’s side,” said Damian.

Danny hummed. True enough, he supposed. They did share a biological mother. Even if Danny refused to ever acknowledge her as such ever again.

He really didn’t have much luck with mother figures, did he? Maddie had turned out to be just as bad as Talia.

In the end, the teacher really didn’t have a choice but to let them go. Though the hall monitor who had caught Danny insisted on accompanying them all the way to the office despite Damian’s protests that he knew the way.

Danny hid a scowl at the situation. He’d had no intentions of meeting Bruce Wayne and now it looked like he’d either have to reveal his powers and run or meet his biological father. His core ached at the thought of leaving Damian, though. And he couldn’t risk letting Ra’s or Talia find out about his powers.

He ignored the longing he felt at the potential for a true family, for a father who loved him unconditionally. He was zero for three on parental figures. No way was he going to try for a fourth.

“How are you here?” asked Damian in Arabic as they walked.

Danny shrugged and answered in the same language. “Didn’t have anywhere else to be. Saw you in a magazine and figured I’d check in.”

“In a—” Damian cut off with a noise of frustration. “I thought you were dead. Did Mother put you in a pit?”

“As far as I’m aware, both Talia and Ra’s are also under the impression I am dead-dead. Though now that we’ve had contact, I don’t suppose that will last much longer.”

“How did you survive?” demanded Damian.

Danny stared ahead and bit his lip. After a moment, he said, “I did try and take you with me, you know. You were the only thing I regretted leaving behind.”

The resulting silence lasted until they reached the front office. Danny didn’t know how to break it.

They were instructed to sit in plush seats facing the office staff where they could be observed as Damian spoke to their his dad.

Damian pulled out his phone, but before he dialed, asked, “How did you get caught? Have you forgotten all your training?”

Danny didn’t bother to try and hide his blush. He’d been relying on his powers and must’ve let his invisibility drop by mistake. It was just…he’d been on the run for almost two months now. He was hungry and tired and in pain. If Jazz knew, she’d scold him for neglecting himself. He should’ve expected something like this would happen the moment he got distracted.

But how to explain that without explaining everything? “The last few months have been hard,” he settled on. “Due to certain circumstances, I am no longer welcome at the place I’ve called home the last few years and had to leave suddenly. Thus, I am not currently at optimal physical health. I grew careless.”

Damian frowned and looked down at his phone. Rather than answer, he opened his contacts and dialed the one labeled “Father.”

Danny probably should be more cautious. He probably shouldn’t trust Damian. But this was his brother. The only good thing from his early childhood.

And he was so, so tired.

Danny let himself slump against Damian’s side. Damian tensed for just a moment before he relaxed.

“Hello, Father,” said Damian into the phone.

Danny let his eyes drift shut as he listened to Damian’s side of the conversation.

“No. I am well. But there’s been a situation.”

Danny snorted at that description, and Damian pinched his thigh.

“It is not something I can explain over the phone, but I need to be picked up from school. Immediately.”

Bruce Wayne’s voice was just indistinct enough that Danny had a hard time understanding it, though he could hear the worry in it.

“It is a family matter. You will wish to be here quickly as there is a strong possibility we will not have the chance again.”

“Think I’m that good, do you?” huffed Danny under his breath. Damian just pinched him again with a tut.

“Could you stop and pick up a smoothie on your way in? With extra protein powder?”

Danny’s breath caught. Was Damian asking on his behalf? It’d been so long since he’d been around Jazz or his friends. He hadn’t had anyone look out for his wellbeing in months.

He screwed his eyes tight against the burning and focused on keeping his breathing steady.

The rest of Damian’s conversation consisted of stilted goodbyes and promises of explanations once they got home.

Despite his apprehension at meeting Bruce, sitting in a comfortable chair leaning against his brother after months of being on edge was enough for him to slip into a shallow doze. Damian would keep him safe. Whatever disagreements they’d had as children, that had been a constant. Danny was vaguely aware of the office staff talking and making noises. Damian’s shoulder shifted slightly as he did something on his phone. But Danny was more asleep than awake.

Until Damian tensed and shrugged his shoulder. “Father’s here,” he whispered in Arabic.

Danny was instantly awake, though he kept his posture relaxed. Bruce Wayne was someone who had attracted the attention of Talia al Ghul. Whatever face he presented to the public had to be a lie, and Danny didn’t know what to expect from him.

One thing Danny did know, though, was that he refused to go back to who he’d been with the league. The formality was so exhausting. And his very core rebelled at the thought of going back to a life of violence and suffering. He’d left to be a regular American kid, and that was what Bruce Wayne would meet.

Maybe his second death made that life impossible, but while he still had breath in his lungs and a heart that beat, he was going to cling to the dream.

So, rather than follow Damian’s lead and sit up straight and formal, Danny stretched his arms up and yawned loudly. “Ope, sorry for falling asleep there on you Dami,” he said in his strongest Midwestern accent.

Damian shot him a look, but didn’t respond. Still, when he stood, he offered a hand to Danny to help him up as well.

Danny grinned as he took it. Then he took a fortifying breath and turned to face Bruce Wayne, his biological father.

Bruce stared at him, face blank. His eyes lingered on where Danny still clasped Damian’s hand. To his disappointment, Damian let go at the look.

The stern look only lasted seconds before Bruce smiled broadly and his body language became relaxed and open. “You must be a friend of Damian’s! I take it this is for you?” He held out the smoothie for Danny.

Danny hesitated. His stomach ached with hunger, but he couldn’t bring himself to move. This was his biological father.

Damian misunderstood his hesitation and grabbed the smoothie himself. He took a deep swallow and in Arabic said, “It is safe, brother.”

If Danny hadn’t been staring so intently at Bruce, he would’ve missed the small twitch the man made at the word “brother.”

Danny grabbed the smoothie and took a long drink. He couldn’t stop the quiet sigh at the taste. It was the best thing he’d had in weeks. “So, what’s the plan?”

“I’m parked right out front! Let me just sign you both out and we can be on our way.”

“Oh, you just have to sign out Damian. I’m not a student.”

“Well, I suppose that explains the lack of a uniform! How do you know my Damian, then?”

“Father,” hissed Damian. In Arabic he said, “I will explain what I can in the car as I promised.”

Danny just took another sip of his smoothie and remained silent.

Bruce’s eyes flicked to Danny, gaze sharp. But he remained relaxed and ruffled Damian’s hair. “Of course, of course.”

Damian glared at him as he smoothed his hair back down.

Bruce laughed with the office staff and signed the requisite paperwork, then the three were making their way outside.

The car out front was a fancy sports car. Danny hesitated a moment before entering. He glanced down in both directions, but knew a school like this would have too many cameras to hide from.

And now that he had Damian in front of him, he was certain his core would protest if he tried to leave.

Damian made a sharp gesture to him, ordering him into the car. Danny slid in. The door shut behind him. He gripped his smoothie with both hands to mask their shaking and took another sip.

“Father,” started Damian. “This is…” he broke off.

“Yes?” prompted Bruce after a moment.

“This is my twin brother, Danny. Your other biological son.”

Bruce froze. Danny didn’t even think he was breathing. One hand rested on the gear stick where he’d been planning to put the car in drive, the other dug into his own leg.

“What.” Bruce’s voice was hard and flat, not a hint of the jovial man from the office.

“In his defense,” said Danny. “He thought I was his twin sister. And that I was dead.”

Bruce’s eyes closed and he took several deep breaths. “Your name is Danny?”

“Yep.” Danny popped the p. “Chose it myself six years ago.”

“It’s…a good name.”

“Thanks! It was my dad’s dad’s name.”

“Your dad?” asked Bruce.

Danny hummed. “Yeah. Got myself adopted after I ran away from Talia and Ra’s. But that living situation fell through a few months ago.” Which, really, understatement of the century, but Danny wasn’t going to go into it. “So I had to leave. Thought I’d check up on Damian. Mind if I come over to visit after Damian gets out of school for the next few days? I’ve got a hotel room lined up in the city,” he lied. Squatting was way easier when you were half-ghost.

Damian broke in at that. “You will be staying with us, not in some hotel,” he spat the last word. “And not just for a few days. Live with us.”

“Can’t stay more than a few days, I’m afraid.” The GIW or his parents would definitely find him if he did. “But if no one minds, I won’t turn down a room if you’ve got a spare.”

“Father’s house is large,” said Damian. “There are plenty of spare rooms.”

“Damian is right,” said Bruce. “I insist you stay with us. We can discuss more over lunch when we’re comfortable.”

Danny shrugged. “If you insist.” He’d disappear, of course. Too risky to stay and lead the GIW to Damian when he still wasn’t sure of the connection between ectoplasm and the Lazarus pits.

Bruce let out a long sigh and put the car in gear. “I do,” was all he said.

Danny watched the scenery go by, pretending not to notice the two pairs of eyes glued to him.

After several long minutes of uncomfortable silence, Bruce spoke again. “I am glad to meet you, Danny. I’m happy you came to Gotham.”

Danny hummed. He supposed time would tell if any of them would come to regret it.

-----

Hope you enjoy!

[napping-sapphic]

Go for a drive with me until we end up sitting in a parking lot and talking for hours

[cravingstudyvalidation]

21/7/2024 rotting instead of studying for my exams which are in 2 weeks :D

🎧- seize the power, yonaka

[the-dangerous-mute-lunatic]

Can you Draw the Glados waking up scene but with your designs

( you can take as long as you like, there is no rush to draw this)

(Also remember to drink water )

"It's been a long time. How have you been?"

[s0fter-sin]

prince!ghost and lord in waiting!soap

ghost is a warrior prince, next in line after king price and it’s always been accepted he would be the lone ruler; never one for entertaining the courts or indulging foreign rulers trying to consolidate their power. he hardly acts like a prince at all, in name only when he spends more time as a pseudo captain of the guard. price has never begrudged him that, not when he himself has been a lone king since his inauguration

though he’s a warrior prince, he’s never lost the favour of the people; many see him as a guardian even if he doesn’t interact with the people as much as benevolent and stalwart king price. who he does interact with is the kingdom’s children; always ready to bend a knee and listen to bright voices, to praise stick swords and shields or hear the plight of a struggling family. it was a common belief that if he wasn’t out protecting, then he was with the protected; face covered, blonde curls shining in the sun

soap’s always loved ghost. as his lord in waiting, it’s been his job to attend him since they were young and even as a child, he’d idolised him; his skills in battle, his surety. he thought his life would be nothing but service, clothing a brat prince and making sure his shoes shined. but ghost has proven more than that; he treats him as an equal, consults him on strategy and court politics and over time that idolisation turned into love

and ghost has always felt the same. he’d begrudged the idea of a lord in waiting, not wanting someone always in his business but then came this spitfire who never missed an opportunity to push back on him; to make him dig deeper. johnny is more than some mere servant; he’s his confidant, his best friend, his… everything. he could be simon with him, not prince ghost

but simon figures that out too late

king price gets word from king shepherd, a kingdom they’ve only recently stopped feuding with and he’s offering up his son, prince graves, as a way to bond their kingdoms together and firmly put war behind them. price is ready to deny him, he doesn’t fear war from shepherd, when he sends some ancient laws that leave him unable to refuse. he hates it, hates that he’s ruining ghost’s happiness and feels like he’s betraying his adopted son but there’s nothing he can do

graves comes to their kingdom within the month and it’s clear from the moment he walks through their gates that he’s the opposite of ghost; arrogant and conceited, his ceremonial armour glossy and untouched by battle. he’s dismissive of their servants, of their ways, of their people and ghost hates him

graves insists that the wedding happen as soon as possible, pushing the craftsmen and cooks beyond their limits to prepare and every moment ghost spends with him, the more he dreads his wedding day. every evening he retreats to his room, exhausted, and it’s all johnny can do to keep him afloat; trying to keep him positive as ghost falls away and simon breaks in his arms. he wants to whisk him away like the old tales, the pain his oldest friend and love is in making his heart ache but all he can do is promise to be there with him

but it seems graves wants to take even him away

“soap’s been my lord in waiting since we were children,” ghost protests, voice barely clinging to civility. “i wouldn’t want to lose such a valuable worker.”

“there are plenty of decent servants in our kingdom; you’ll forget this one soon enough,” graves waves away, carding a possessive hand over his curls and it’s only bc he’s looking for it that soap sees ghost’s jaw twitch beneath his neck gaiter. “it’s custom for one marrying into our kingdom to embrace all that it has to offer, leaving who they were behind to become someone better. you’re entering a new life with me; you don’t need the baggage of this dreary place.”

soap feels sick as he walks behind them, his blank expression hiding all sign of his breaking heart.

“soap is beholden to me,” ghost declares. “we were sworn together by the old laws. i’m afraid a custom isn’t enough for me to break a vow to the gods.”

graves lets out a disgruntled noise, tugging harshly at one of ghost’s curls with only a thin veil of fondness; his conceding smile not reaching his eyes.

“i never made a vow to the gods,” johnny points out later. “price gave me to you because he was sick of me setting fire to the kitchens.”

simon hums and sets his freshly cleaned armour aside, turning to him with a twinkle in his eyes he’s barely seen since sheperd’s missive. “you pinkie swore that you would never leave me; that’s more powerful than any promise to the gods,” he says and soap’s thrown back fifteen years, to a willow tree big enough to touch the sky; to two boys from different stations who didn’t care that one was dressed in silk and the other in scraps.

johnny feels a lightness he hasn’t in a month as simon winks at him. “besides, do you really think graves is smart enough to figure it out?”

the days pass quickly, graves’ veneer of affection growing ever thinner, and before either of them are ready, it’s the eve of ghost’s wedding.

he’s said nothing, done nothing but stare at the wedding robes graves had tailored for him in the fashion of his kingdom and johnny doesn’t know how to break the silence. he draws out each second as he fusses with the cape piece and ensures the shoes shine in the fire light until he has no more excuses.

he sighs as he straightens up, brushing off polish onto his pants. “i suppose this is where i leave you,” he says with a weak smile but it quickly dies when simon still doesn’t look at him. “i’ll be here in the morning to help you get ready… good night, simon.”

johnny bows and makes for the door, trying to convince himself he didn’t just say goodbye.

but he’s stopped by simon’s hand loosely wrapping around his wrist.

he looks back as simon finally tears his eyes away from the robes, looking at him with such clear longing it almost brings him to his knees.

“i don’t want graves to be the first man to touch me, johnny,” he confesses and johnny’s breath hitches. “i don’t want to be married to another… not when the one i’m set to wed isn’t you. but if i have to do this… please let me feel loved one final time.”

simon’s thumb brushes the back of his hand; their kingdom’s greatest warrior caressing him with a touch light as silk. he doesn’t pull johnny in, doesn’t need to; johnny’s already sinking into his touch.

desperation and love tinge every movement; johnny dancing his fingers over simon’s neck gaiter until he all too happily removes it, baring his scarred cheeks and lips. johnny kisses each one, willing his love and his touch to linger above all others as they move together; sharing breath, sharing body, sharing soul the way they wish they always have.

when ghost makes his way down the aisle, it’s not in the fine embroidered robes graves had laid out for him. he’s in his battle armour; dark and weathered, the sign of the ghost, the warrior prince, going to battle. the only thing missing is his helm, tucked under his arm.

showing his hair; curls gone and shaved tight to his skin.

a thing done only in a time of great mourning.

graves looks irate and it’s the only spark of joy ghost feels as he stops before the altar; set beneath the willow tree where johnny promised himself to him. one final insult.

ghost is silent throughout the ceremony and in spirit and in grief, so is the entire gathered kingdom until the priestess reaches the final vows and suddenly, a great roar rises above the crowd as seemingly every child in the kingdom swarms the altar.

ghost is too shocked to do anything but let them push him away from graves, bullying their way between them like they’re preparing to protect him just as he’s always protected them.

graves is furious but the children stand firm in the face of his threats until he moves to strike one-

and freezes as soap’s blade finds his throat.

“you would dare hurt these children?” he growls, sword following graves as he stumbles back. “you’ve kept up your charade the entire time and here is where you show your true colours. i think it’s time i show mine.”

graves splutters as johnny turns to the priestess and king price, falling to one knee and offering up his blade. “your grace, i wish to challenge prince graves for the hand of prince simon!”

his voice rings clear and he feels the eyes of every person in the kingdom.

but he only cares for one man.

who is watching him with more love than he’s ever felt.

“who are you to challenge me?” graves sneers. “you’re nothing more than a servant; no better than the dirt on my boots.”

johnny doesn’t bother to look at him, too caught in the love in simon’s eyes and the grateful look on king price’s face. “then you should have nothing to worry about. you’ve been crowing your accolades from the rooftops since you got here; let’s see if you live up to the hype.”

because simon only ever introduced him as his lord in waiting.

never as sir soap- his second in command and one of the greatest swordsmen their kingdom has ever seen.

[theloveinc]

There's a lot of validity in the idea that older Bakugo is a traumatized pro-hero with major PTSD... but you know what's kinda fucked up to think about? The fact that Bakugo is also a 22-year-old pro-hero with major PTSD even before that, too.

It's almost easy to imagine that things are actually better when he's older (the therapy finally a routine, the trauma long set and on the path to being healed)... and that it's his whole 20s that are spent as a pool of disaster trying to recover from the war(s).

He looks back and barely even remembers being twenty, much less twenty-five or twenty-seven. Barely remembers how little he slept, not at the hands of trying to balance hero work and getting a degree at the same time, but just out of the pure insomnia that came from trying to move on and every nightmare attached.

Hardly ever showering, never shaving (not that he ever grew much of a beard, but the facial hair was definitely there. There's pictures of him on the news with an awkward, grown out haircut and patches on facial hair that make him look positively... immature), barely even eating more than a few protein bars or an energy jelly drink-a day. It's a blur, and his friends are hardly there to pick him up out of it because they're all going through it, too. Somewhat.

It's definitely weird if you meet him during this period. He's not all there, at least, not all of the time. He doesn't really register your interactions, the friendship you extend to him (a younger, or ever older, version of him would've shown you that deep seeded ferocity in response, tried to bite the hand that fed him, even if it were love... but 20s Bakugo... doesn't seem to notice). Even though only one of his eyes is clouded over, the good one never seems to brighten up.

There's definitely moments when the old him shines through: when he's with Deku, when he's in the midst of battle, when he finds out that Todoroki still does a shitty job at chopping scallions. But it's a long time before he's even close to the same, able to step out from underneath the fog of simply surviving and into the sunshine of recovering.

But I think sticking through it with him is worth it.

(It's a weird moment, a happy moment, the first time you realize that Bakugo has changed. That the pouring rain outside hasn't bothered him since he showed up at your apartment. He forgot his umbrella, he's been quite careless ever since the war—wet and shaggy hair frizzed up, cheeks red from cold—but he doesn't seem to mind, with his bare feet up on your coffee table, his eyes gazing out the window. You hand his tea, and instead of gulping it down in one go, letting it burn in his throat, he winces at the heat.

"Tastes like shit," he says, and you laugh because it always does. Just this time, he noticed.)

[love-3-crimes]

drag queen mind,,,, shes girly pop