#sharing a milkshake

[admrlthundrbolt]

Tongue Tied (Luke x Chubby Reader)

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Luke believes that his luck in love ran out before he was even born. So after weeks of Marnie trying to set him up, he finally accepts. Will it be a wonderful night or a disaster. And how exactly has he been entranced by them. Could they have a secret of they're own.

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Hey guys, I'm back at it again. I had a hankering to watch some spooky Disney movies. So I watched the Halloweentown series for the first time. I am so disappointed that I hadn't seen it before. But no time like the present. And like many before me I was enamored with Luke. This is the result. Hope you enjoy.

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Luke had always known his luck in love was lousy. But he thought college may give him a leg up. Tons of new and different people to get to know. It was only a matter of time before he met someone he was compatible with.

As he paced his dorm room, he had to reconsider his choices. It had been months, already, a whole semester had come and gone. Yet he struck out again and again. Frowning he decided a walk could help him gather his thoughts.

Leaving the dormitories a bright flyer for a neighborhood block party caught his eye. Causing a memory to jolt in his mind. Rushing back up to his room. He hurriedly sent a message to Marnie.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

She was practically skipping around her room, listing off all the great things about you. “She's so sweet and good natured. Quite the book worm too, but that doesn't keep her from enjoying a good movie. You guys are going to get along so well.” She gave him a look, wiggling her eyebrows and everything. “Not to mention she is totally cute. You see her and just want to squeeze the life out of her she's so adorable.”

He tried to hide his blush behind the soda he was drinking. It seemed like you were the total package. So what would you want with a guy like him? Between his ugly mug and uglier past. Would you really give him a chance. “If she's this great, then why set her up with me?”

Marnie frowned as she took in his downtrodden expression. Why was he always so hard on himself. Still she gave him a reassuring smile. “Call it witches intuition, I know you guys are perfect for each other. You'll be each other's yin and yang.” Seeing his mood not brighten, she thought a new detail may lighten the situation. “Besides I told her you were interested already. You would not believe how excited she was.”

His face fell into his hands with a groan. What was he kidding, he would just mess this up too. But then a sudden idea came to mind. Head shooting up, his wide eyes stared at his friend. “OK, but on one condition.”

She nodded eagerly, anything to make the perfect match.

“You make me look human for the date.” He watched as her face fell. Scrambling to make his case, he almost fell from his seat. “Look I just want to make the best impression. We both know that I'm more confident when you take away the goblin features.” Running his finger through fluffy hair he sighed. “I don't want to mess this up. I mean like you said, we're made for each other.”

Nose scrunching in annoyance she crossed her arms. “Is it really the only way you'll agree.” Nodding he watched her resolve crumble. “Fine let me talk to my Grandma and we'll see what we can do.” She wanted to be angry with him. But as the wide grin settled on his face she found she couldn't. If this was what got the two of you to meet then so be it. You really did belong together. Hopefully you could knock some sense into him on your date.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You shuffled in front of the movie theater. Nerves and excitement burning in you veins. You had been a bit skeptical when Marnie mentioned a blind date. But after all the good things she had to say about Luke. Well if he's half the guy she claimed then you were willing to try.

He swatted Marnie's hands away as she tried to straight his coat for the millionth time. She had been fretting over him since they met up. It was making his anxiety flare up terribly. If he hadn't already agreed to this he might head home. But there was no way he could disappoint his friend or a sweet stranger. So he took a deep breath and cleared his mind. “OK, I think I'm ready.”

Her smile widened. “Great. Now don't forget that the spell only last a few hours. Even though I still think it wasn't the best decision to begin with.”

Glancing at a nearby window, he couldn't help but admire his handsome face. He doesn't hate his goblin features, they just made him self-conscious. Especially when meeting a cute girl for a blind date. “I know how you feel, you've told me a ton of times. I just want to make the best first impression I can.”

She reluctantly nodded and spun him around. “OK, start with the movie, then dinner afterwards. The perfect first date.” She pushed him in the direction of the cinema. Grinning all the while.

He got to the theater in a few short moments. Still this was a new territory for him. Even with the artificial glow up, his heart was hammering. Steeling his nerves he turned the final corner and paused. There was no way that was his blind date. Looking up and down the street he knew there must be a mistake. You were the only person standing in the place Marnie had set up as a meeting spot. You were gorgeous, the vision of a goddess. Your plush body complimented well by the outfit you had chosen. He was enamored with the sight of you. It made him all the more sure of asking for the makeover. Making his way over he called out your name.

Spinning towards the call, you smiled warmly. Only for your brows to pinch in confusion. You could have sworn that Marnie said he was a goblin. So why was this human guy saying your name. “Hi, are you Luke?”

His grin broadened. “The one and only. It's nice to finally meet the girl that Marnie keeps talking about. Putting a beautiful face to the name and all.” He mentally cheered at your flushed cheeks. Maybe he could charm you into not caring about his face.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

He held the door open as you both exited the cinema. “Can you imagine how much they spent on fake blood? I mean that scene at the end with the bloodfall.” You looked up at him as you gushed about the movie. Going on about the special effects and detail of the props. It was endearing how much you seemed to love movies. He loved your reactions and random comments. Every so often you would tug him towards yourself and whisper something in his ear. He always had to hold back a shiver at your cute action. Every moment he spent in your presence made him open up just a bit more. As if you were drawing out his true nature, without even meaning to. You were so sweet and inviting, it was impossible to not like you.

He tug subconsciously at his ear as he smiled down at you. “You know, you don't strike me as the type of girl that would be interested in a movie like that.”

You gazed at him with glittering eyes. “I love all kinds of movies. They're a great way to bring any story to life. Everyone's story deserves to be told.” If he became anymore enamored with you his heart may just beat right out of his chest.

As a nearby clock chimed loudly you wrapped your plush arm around his own. Surprised he had to stop himself from jumping. “Oh, I know just the place for a great bite. If you like diners that is.” Your full cheeks puffed up as you grinned widely at him.

“Yeah, I could go for a burger and shake.” His own smile spread as you made your way down the block.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Dinner went even better than the movie. He could hear you talk for hours about anything. But the captivating way you spoken about movie was delightful. You listened to every opion he gave and giving your own in an intriguing way. It made his thoughts feel validated and encouraged.

You both enjoyed the food. He had to agree with you, it all tasted amazing. Though there was an awkward pause when the waitress brought out his shake with two straws. She threw a wink to your table and left.

With a small yet genuine he slid the glass towards you. “Go ahead and try. It's way to much for just me anyways.” He flushed at the sweet smile you gave him. Only for his grin to broaden as you shifted to second straw to him.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

Now you were strolling through the park. Your arm wrapped around his once again. Supple body pressed against his own. Enjoying the quiet peace and pleasant ambiance together.

You look up at him with dazzling eyes. “I've really enjoyed tonight Luke.” You gave his arm a tight squeeze, smiling softly.

He couldn't help but mirror your expression. It really has been one of the best nights of his life. He honestly wanted to hit himself over the head for not listening to his friend sooner. “I have too. This has been great. But don't tell Marnie, her head would get to big for her body.” He flushed at the sweet giggle you let out.

As the town centers clock chimes the late hour, he swiftly stops. Feeling his face shifting, he tries to turn away from you. Noticing the sudden change, you grip his arm tighter and ask what's wrong.

“I I I need to go.” He desperately wants to run. You couldn't see him like this, it would ruin everything. He covers his face with his hands.

Worried that he could be hurt, you pry his hands from his face. He squeezes his eyes shut, not wanting to see the disappointment on your face. “Luke, please, tell me what's wrong.”

His eyes widened in shock. Staring down at your face, he was surprised at what he saw. Your were worried, your eyes glittering with unshed tears. “I'm a monster, that's what. Or actually a goblin.” His shoulders sagged in resignation. “I ask Marnie to change my appearance so I would have a better chance with you. But I guess I was having such a good time, I didn't realize the hour. I understand if you want to never see me again.” His posture slouch further as he thinks about how stupid he was. That he would ever have a chance with a girl like you.

Bringing your hand to his cheek, you guided his eyes to yours. “Luke I've known from the beginning that you were a goblin. Marnie has shown me pictures of you before.”

His brows pinched as you admitted this. “You knew? And you still wanted to go on a date with me?”

You nodded enthusiastically. “Of course, how could I not. She could only say good things about you. I was actually the one who suggested the date.” Looking away shyly, you gave him a bashful grin.

Shaking his head, he smacked himself on the forehead. Sliding the hand down his face, he sighed. “I really have been dumb.”

Your melodious giggle sounded through the air. “How about you make it up to me on a second date.” He straighten up and hastily agreed. “I can tell you all about my heritage. I am an eighth troll after all.” Your smile widened at the disbelief on his face and the barrage of questioned that followed.

[lho-archive]

Sharing a milkshake

Drawn 12/02/22

[sneaks-the-hammock-jockey]

little early Valentines milkshake date. Mr.sneaks scolded me for it not being ice cream lol. I shared it yesterday in Miraculous Discordance (Miraculous Ladybug fan server, we do daily challenges as well as monthly events) but I forgot to post it here. Sometimes there is art I make that only makes it in there (this is where I would use the trixx shrug emoji from there)

[drelizabethgreene]

Finally started my Bingo card for @anyfandomfluffbingo! Here’s my first submission:

Title: Cheers to Us

Fandom: ER

Warnings: None

Pairing: Archie/Claudia

Square filled: Sharing a milkshake

[im-here-homie]

a happy audience is the key to the academy's heart

shadow milk design by @catxolotlquoise

[imaginariumwanderer]

That haunting chorus of violins that fill the dark, those words– Pure Vanilla looks back over the space and finds exactly what he'd feared. Expected. There they are, gliding across the void so, so terribly intertwined they almost appeared as one. In some ways, he supposed they were. Pure Vanilla watches himself be led in a dance so improper and aimless and… Had Shadow Milk's expression truly been so… adoring, that day?

Fanart and coincidental birthday gift for the talented off1cially_done who wrote this (the fanfic is pretty heavy, remember to look at the tags before reading!)

Shadowvanilla fanfics are so rare, I gotta show my appreciation for them when I can(!) There was plan to draw a different scene but this chapter was too good, came for the toxic stay for the Eternal Sugar. I refrains from drawing the unreleased beasts in fear of messing up their designs but her depiction in the story was amazing I just had to draw her! Like ughh, pretty pink angel pls be my winglady <333

Also, the dancing scene was my favorite scene in "the light continue". For it to come back and confirm to us that yes this was PV's first spark of love is so aaaa- Anyways, here's something extra!

Denial.

Newly-wed woes.

[allpiesforourown]

I love how you depict Shen twins: You Understand. Also younger SJ is sooo smart, let him be a bratty didi who tries to monopolize SY!!!

I need shen jiu (cang qiongs strategist) and Luo binghe (genius protagonist) to have light and Kira level mind games and schemes in order to get rid of the other.

Shen Jiu: oh ge, what a surprise running into you here! Let me introduce my friend... whaaat? She knows binghe? They used to date? :)

Shen Jiu: look at that uncomfortable glance Yuan ge just sent to binghe.. ha, it's over!

Binghe: you fool... you thought I didn't know you'd do this? I already gave her a script and double what you offered her!

Binghe's ex: Yes, Luo Binghe was so sweet! I had homophobic parents and he offered to be my beard :) he never touched me unless necessary, he was so respectful!

Shen Jiu: what!? She said he was a terrible boyfriend who cheated and- DAMNIT they're in on it together!!

Shen Jiu unfortunately never wins his struggle to get rid of Luo binghe

[luxaofhesperides]

Ghostlights where Phantom saves Duke or the Signal, and a week later (at a Wayne gala or some other place) Duke recognizes the light/aura coming from Danny

Putting off gala prep was perhaps not the best plan. Duke spent the past month insisting that everything is fine and he has it under control. Duke is also a lying liar who lies, and now he’s frantically trying to pick up his suit in time to get it dry cleaned and altered as necessary. 

Alfred would be disappointed in him, but in Duke’s defense, he had to go out of town on a mission to bust a growing drug cartel, and then spent half a week visiting a shelter for metas on the run (unofficial and hidden away) to help everyone find new homes and learn to control their powers. These things take time!

Unfortunately, gala prep also takes time, and since it’s a charity gala for funding the education of every Gothamite student, it’s not one he can slip out of. The entire family is being strong-armed into attending and not making a scene until the donation period in the first half is over. 

Duke knows he’s not the only one who’s scrambling to get ready for a gala that’s taking place in three days, but they’re not helping him, so it feels like he’s the only one messing up. 

“Sorry!” he calls behind him as he sprints through a group of people. 

He could have asked someone to drive him, but he knows they’re all busy and doesn’t want his own poor time management to cause problems for anyone else. Even though he’s sure Bruce is looking for an excuse to get out of a mandatory Wayne Enterprises board meeting that both Lucius and Tim dragged him to.

RIP Bruce. He will be missed.

The Diamond District is full of people walking the streets, sprinting between parked cars and waiting for their rides. They’re all dressed nicely, making him feel out of place. It’s a feeling that’s never left him since he joined the Waynes but it’s particularly bad when he’s left to navigate these spaces alone. Rich people and socialites are a different kind of human, one that Duke doesn’t care to understand; there’s greed in all of them, turning them heartless, and they can give as much as they want to charity but it won’t change the fact that all they do is a performance to make people like them, rather than a desire to do anything good. 

The sooner this is over, the better. He keeps going, hoping that he can still make it to his appointment with the tailor. Alfred recommended the store, then set up the appointment, so all Duke has to do is trust their judgment as they get him fitted. He’s still got twenty minutes until the scheduled time, but some unspoken rule makes it so he has to show up fifteen minutes early for better service or risk being turned away and told to reschedule. 

Duke slows to a walk when he catches sight of the store, the trying to catch his breath and look more composed before he reaches the door. He takes a moment to straighten his clothes a bit, then opens the door and steps in.

The bell jingles pleasantly above his head. The store is empty of any other customers, and the employee at the front counter looks up with a plastered on smile. 

“I’ll be with you in a moment!” she says, then looks down at her phone and types something out before placing it under the counter. A tablet comes out instead and she swipes through a few screens, then sets it down and look at Duke again. “How can I help you, sir?”

“I have an appointment? For a suit fitting. Under the name Thomas.”

She taps on the screen for a minute, then nods and gives him another customer service smile. “Alright, I’ll go ahead and grab the tailor. They’ll be out with your suit soon. Please, feel free to take a seat or browse some of our suits. We just recently got a new collection in from Italy.”

“Sure, thanks. I’ll just… be here, I guess.”

The employee takes her tablet and disappears through a door, leaving him alone in the store. He doesn’t want to sit down, not while his heart is still trying to settle from his sprint through half of Diamond District, so Duke wanders around the neat stacks of dress shirts and vests, pants and belts and shoes lined up neatly against the walls. 

He takes a moment to shoot Alfred a text that he’s at the tailor for his fitting appointment. Steph’s sent him a long string of videos online, and he’s just about to go through them when the bell rings again. 

Duke glances up and watches a guy walk into the store. He looks around, makes eye contact with Duke, then quickly looks down, taking a seat by the door.

Probably another upper class citizen uncomfortable with the fact that someone in jeans and a hoodie is shopping for suits. Shaking his head lightly, Duke wanders deeper into the store to get some distance between them so they could ignore each other more easily. It’s only until the tailor comes out, and then he can go to a fitting room and be done with this whole thing, so Duke resigns himself to suffering through the tense silence. 

How long is he even supposed to wait? He can only look at clothes in one of three colors before he gets bored. 

He goes to another rack, trying to see if he can notice anything different about these shirts. 

And then he hears a shoe scuff against the floor behind him. He tenses up, but before he can turn around, a belt is wound around his throat, pulling him back and choking him. 

Duke drops his weight, tucking his chin and gets a hand against the inside of the belt to try to push it away. His back hits someone’s chest and he’s trapped, focused on trying not to be choked to death while also keeping his vigilante abilities and meta powers secret. 

More footsteps come from behind, and a soaked cloth is pressed against his nose and mouth.

Chloroform, he realizes, familiar with the smell from Bruce’s training. But training isn’t enough to keep him from being knocked out, and he quickly slips away from the waking world, falling to the ground. 

Just before he passes out completely, he hears the employee who greeted him say, “I’m not sure how much Wayne would be willing to pay for him, but let’s start high and negotiate lower. New kid can’t possibly be worth that much…”

Duke wakes up groggily, memories of what happened quickly snapping into place. He’s too out of it still to get up, but he’s awake enough to be offended. Sure he’s the new kid, and barely even a Wayne, but he’s still worth a lot!

Kidnappers these days. So rude.

He doesn’t hear anyone around him, and it feels like he’s lying on a cold concrete floor. Basement, maybe? Warehouse? Storage unit tucked away somewhere? There’s nothing much to see when Duke is able to open his eyes, squinting bareilly at his surroundings. His arms are tied behind him, wrists bound, but they left his legs alone. 

If he could just hit the panic button on his bracelet…

Duke wiggles around, fighting through the lingering effects of Chloroform, and manages to sit up. If he strains his hearing, he thinks he can hear voices outside of the empty room he’s been left in. There’s a window high up, too high for a normal person to reach without help, but if he can use the shadows to travel through it, then he may be able to escape on his own. 

First things first: he needs to free his hands before anyone comes in to check on him.

They used zip ties on him, which is inconvenient. He’s learned how to get out of them, but it’s difficult enough without being drugged and having to do it behind his back. 

He’s feeling the zip ties bite into his wrists just as there’s a crash from outside the room. His kidnappers yell, alarmed, and are quickly silenced. That’s rarely ever a good sign. Duke renews his efforts to escape, ignore the pain in pushing against his binds like this. 

The door opens. Duke hears the small click of a lock disengaging and freezes. Then he gets to his feet, still unsteady, and prepares to ram his head into anyone who comes near him like some sort of deranged battering ram, or a drunk raging bull. 

Duke is ready for the worst: a gang hoping to steal away a Wayne hostage, a Rogue, Gnomon popping in to cause trouble for the sole purpose of getting on Duke’s nerve. 

He’s not expecting another teenage boy, who is literally glowing, to poke his head in and zero in on Duke. He blinks, then smiles; it’s friendly and sincere, nothing like the employee who helped kidnap him. 

“Hey!” he says, coming into the room properly. He’s floating a good foot off the ground, eyes a bright neon green, with white hair that sways as if he’s underwater. “Are you okay? I saw them drag you out of the back of the store and followed them, but I got a bit lost. Sorry for taking so long to get here.”

“...It’s fine?” Duke offers, trying to wrap his head around what’s happening. “I wasn’t expecting a rescue so soon, anyways. Think you can help me out here?”

“Yeah, of course!” he flies closer, then drops down to the ground behind Duke. He hums lightly under his breath, and then Duke feels a cold touch on his wrist and the zip ties are suddenly gone. 

Duke blinks, then brings his arms in front of him. He moves around a bit to make sure he’s not hallucination, and sure enough, he’s free and unbound because a random meta teenager vanished the zip ties into the ether, or something. 

“Thanks, man. Any idea where we are?”

“Not a clue. I got lost coming here, and I was following them. I don’t think you should trust any directions I give.”

“Fair enough,” Duke laughs. “I’m Duke, by the way.”

“Phantom.”

“Well, thanks for the save, Phantom. Can I treat you to something?”

“Like, coffee?”

“Sure. Or brunch, or ice cream. Whatever you want, really.”

Phantom considers it for a moment, then shakes his head. “Sorry, I would love to but going out in public looking like this,” he gestures to himself, “Is not a great idea. Thanks for the offer though. You got a ride?”

Duke pats his pockets, then sighs. “My phone’s gone. I still have my wallet, though.”

“I fly you to someplace you can call someone, if you’d like.”

“You sure? I could probably just walk out of here and call a taxi.”

“I don’t think walking around by yourself after being kidnapped is a great idea,” Phantom says, doubtfully. “Seriously, let me fly you.”

He should just hit the panic button and wait for someone to show up to get him. He shouldn’t go to some unknown location with a meta he literally just met. 

But, you know what? No one else can say they got kidnapped twice in one day, so Duke nods and says, “Sure, sweep me off my feet, Phantom. You gotta commit to this rescue.”

Phantom laughs. And then he does sweep Duke off his feet into a princess carry with a cheeky grin and flies them out the building, which turns out to be an abandoned apartment building slated for demolition. 

“Keep this up and you’ll be replacing Superman in no time,” Duke jokes.

“I think I could manage it,” Phantom replies thoughtfully. “I mean, I’m already prettier than him, don’t you think?”

“Oh, definitely. The glow really brings out your eyes.”

Phantom gets him a few blocks away when Duke recognizes where they are, and quickly directs him into Crime Alley. They land on top of one of Jason’s safe houses, and while he’s sure there’s enough security to take out a SWAT Team, that’s absolutely not going to stop him from breaking in to use one of Jason’s burner phones and eat his leftovers. 

He’s set down on his feet gently, and as soon as Phantom sees that he’s fine, able to walk and everything, he floats back up, just out of reach.

“Be careful, okay?” he says, getting ready to leave.

“I’ll do my best. Hey, are you gonna be in Gotham for a while, or…?”

Phantom gives him a tired smile. “Nah. I’m just passing through. As long as my luck doesn’t get even worse, then I should be out of here in a few days.”

“Shame,” Duke says, giving Phantom a very visible once over. He’s pretty tall, and Duke can see some muscle on him, and the tight black outfit really adds to his look. The glow that comes out of his chest makes him look ethereal and Duke is beyond glad that he got such a charming rescuer.

Phantom doesn’t blush like a normal person. He glows brighter instead, curling into himself a bit as he looks away, unable to stop the smile from growing on his face. 

“I guess,” he shrugs. “Are you really going to be alright from here?”

“Yeah, man, I have a friend who lives here. I’ll just bother him until he agrees to give me a ride.”

“Alright.” Phantom drifts away, glancing behind him before turning back to Duke. “I’ll get going then. Take care, Duke!”

Duke waves and watches as Phantom begins to fly away. Then Phantom… disappears? Or rather, his body does but Duke can see an orb of light making its way across Gotham, almost like a star fallen from the sky.

He stays on the roof until the light is long gone. When he’s finally ready to go in and steal from Jason, the sun has completely set. 

And he still doesn’t have his suit.

Duke sighs, and mentally prepares himself to other day of stressing out about the gala.

Three days of stress and last minute scrambling leave Duke in the Gotham Museum of Modern Art with Steph, Tim, Cass, and Damian. They’re hiding in the photography gallery to avoid other guests, taking a break from being polite and letting thinly veiled, passive aggressive insults slide over them.

.

.

.

“How much longer must we suffer this before we can go?” Damian grumbles, looking like he’s do anything to get his hands on a blade. Which, considering how many people tried to either pinch his cheeks are say some racist remark about him and his mother, is totally fair. Duke would just punch them, but sometimes a little drama helped get the message across. 

“At least two more hours,” Tim says, not bothering to look up from his phone. From what few glimpses of the screen Duke caught, he’s leading a Titans missions through text and clever hacking. Though it may be more accurate to call is a Young Justice mission since there’s no way any of this was authorized by a Justice League member. 

Also Anita, suited up as Empress, is there. If they aren’t on the news for property destruction and absolutely batshit wild shenanigans, Duke will have to check on Tim to make sure he’s not a pod person sent to infiltrate the family. 

“Think we can sneak out without anyone noticing?” Steph asks, looking at the emergency exit longingly.

Cass shakes her head and points to the door leading to the ballroom. When they look over, Dick makes very deliberate eye contact with them and give them a smile that looks stretched across his face.

Tim winces and pushes Duke. “Oh, something went down. Go take over for him and let Dick rest in here for a bit.”

“Man, why does it have to be me?” he grumbles even as he stands. Dick lets out a heavy breath and gives Duke a grateful smile, patting on the shoulder before shoving him out the door. 

As soon as he’s back into the main hallway, the music and chatter swell, no longer muffled by the thick walls of the photography wing. A few people come and go from the ballroom, no doubt looking for the restroom. 

Or more private places for… other things. Things they definitely shouldn’t be doing in an art museum.

He really can’t wait for this night to be over.

Duke joins the rest of the guests, fake smile on his face, and quickly makes his way to the snack table. He might as well make the most of his time stuck out here. Maybe he could even cause another relationship scandal by implying that Bruce is sleeping with one of partners when in hearing distance of a couple. Maybe even both of them. 

Bruce would go with it. It’s hilarious and he also needs something to make these events bearable.

Sadly, he doesn’t see any good targets as he scans the ballroom. A few people are dancing, while others are talking in small circles, closed off from outsiders. There’s an entire table of old ladies with glasses of wine in front of them; Duke considers hanging around them, since they confess to a lot of crimes after a few glasses. It’s fascinating. 

Also, he does kind of miss hanging out with the one old lady who’s declared herself his high society grandmother and told him stories of how she used to go to bars to find racist people or Klan members during the Jim Crow era, seduce them, then poison them and get their addresses so a few gangs she was friends with would fuck them up.

Granny Kaliasto is the coolest person ever. 

Just as he’s about to finish his last mini rolled crepe, Duke catches sight of one of the few teenagers still in the ballroom. The others, mostly stuck up rich kids no one actually likes, have already left to take over some other part of the museum to gossip until their parents decide it’s time to go home. These two are clearly not part of that crew, what with the girl being very goth and in a poofy, ripped dress, and the boy having already taken his jacket off to keep over his forearm, the top button of his shirt popped open.

They might be cool. He’s hoping they’re cool because he desperately needs some company to keep from dying of boredom while the gala continues on.

Duke walks over to them, going around the side of the ballroom, until he’s close enough to hear them talking.

The boy has his back to Duke, but the girl sees him. She immediately scowls and slaps the boys shoulder, eyes locked on Duke.

“Got another comment about my dress?” she says, voice sharp and acidic.

“Another?” Duke repeats. “I was just bored and wanted to talk to people who were my age. Sorry?”

The boy smacks the girl’s arm, then turns to face Duke. “Sorry about her! Sam is just naturally rude and aggressive. Tonight’s been a bit rough, with this crowd.”

Duke goes to say something, but the words stick in his throat when he sees the boy’s eyes shift from deep blue to an electric green. When he focuses, he can see a faint glow in his chest, the same glow he saw in Phantom.

“Dude? You alright?”

Sam looks him over judgmentally. “I guess it’s nice that I’m not being ogled for once, but don’t do that shit to Danny either.”

“Wait, that’s not what I was doing!” Duke hurries to say, snapped out of his shock. “I just… you look a lot like someone I met recently.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. What was your name? I’m Duke, by the way.”

He holds out a hand, and the boy shakes it with a small smile. “Danny. I don’t think we’ve met. I mean, I’m only here because Sam wouldn’t come to this gala without me, so her parents flew me in.”

“You from out of town?”

“Sam and I are from Illinois. Her parents are traveling around the east coast right now, and they decided to spend a week in Gotham to talk business.”

“I’d ask how it is, but outsiders tend to really hate Gotham, so…”

Sam barks out a sharp laugh. “Oh please, we can handle Gotham. Our town might not be as big and well known as Gotham, but we got our own shit to deal with there.”

“I do get shot at a lot back home,” Danny adds thoughtfully. “And that’s without the ghosts.”

“Woah, what?”

“Up for a bit of a story?” Danny asks, impish grin on his face. By his side, Sam brings a hand up to cover a manic smile, shoulders already shaking with laughter. 

This is already better than the grandma gang. Duke leans against the wall, getting settled in, and says, “Always, man. Hit me with it.”

The next hour an a half passes quickly with Sam and Danny dramatically narrating some of the things that have happened in their town. Duke listens, absolutely enraptured, and doesn’t even notice the Waynes file into the ballroom again. 

Unfortunately, they bring with them the attention of most of the ballroom, including Bruce and Sam’s parents. 

She cuts the current story about Box Ghost short with a heavy sigh. “Hold up, I need to greet the Waynes properly while my parents are watching.” She steps in front of Duke and Danny, holding out a hand with a pained smile.

Tim takes it first, giving a solid shake, and introductions start. 

Free from the rules of high society, if only for the moment, Duke leans closer to Danny and whispers to him, “Phantom. Wanna get out of here?”

Danny flinches and turns to him looking panicked. “How did you know?”

“I kinda got magic eyes. I see a lot of things normal humans can’t. Don’t worry about it. I still owe you, so you wanna get out of here?”

He watches as Danny glances around the ballroom, then back to him, clearly weighing out his options. Then he nods and says, “Know where to get a good milkshake around here?”

“Sure do.”

“I guess you’re the one rescuing me this time.”

“Not a rescue,” Duke corrects, and casually picks Danny up over his shoulder into a fireman’s carry, “A kidnapping.”

Danny laughs and waves Sam and all the others goodbye as Duke marches out of the ballroom.

“Don’t bother me for the next two hours!” he calls to the Waynes, “I’m going on a date!”

There are shocked gasps and murmurs all through the crowd. But as he spins around to wave at his shocked and easily amused family, he also catches sight of Granny Kaliasto raising her half full wine glass towards him.

She really is the coolest.

He’s definitely telling her all about this at the next event they attend together. It’ll be nice to have a few stories of his own to share.

[carlestin]

butters' pocket money

[98chao]

guys im getting the feeling that shadow milk cookie might have been in the game interacting with pure vanilla cookie for way longer than we thought

[lieselsart]

Husbands sharing milkshakes 😌💕

(Click for better quality)

[diningwiththeasquiths]

I have this really hot mental image of Louis and Armand seated on opposite sides of (old) Daniel, both their mouths latched onto his neck, drinking deeply, with Daniel's head thrown back in rapture, their hands joining together in between Daniel's legs where they are pleasuring him

[ghost-proofbaby]

kissing lessons, pt. 2

summary: you and robin face the music that maybe the kissing lessons aren't just lessons after all.

pairing: robin buckley x fem!reader

warnings: even more sapphic yearning than the first one (in my opinion), lots of religious imagery scattered sporadically, and a lots of hints/passing mentions of homophobia (no talk of violence, etc.) that was normal in the 80s. there's even more discussion of reader conforming to the usual and dating a boy. once again, reader is explicitly female.

wc: 3.3k+

a/n: i cannot explain how healing writing this has been. shout out to younger me for surviving the way my own experience ended with a lot more heartbreak - you deserved a robin buckley, baby ghost. and thank you to everyone who read the first one and was so very kind. i am eternally grateful <3

part 1 here

It was your own damn fault, probably. 

Robin may have been the one to ignite the fire, so prettily asking to start having those godforsaken kissing lessons, but you’d be the one clutching a bottle of gasoline. You’d been the one fanning the flames with each arrangement you’d insist upon, Saturday after Saturday always being spent one predictable way: kissing your best friend. 

In your bedroom, in her living room, behind the slide at the park. 

Mid-afternoon, early mornings, in the dead of night. 

Any time that you can find an excuse for it, your lips were attached to Robin Buckley’s, chipping away at your own demise, and it was all your fault. 

There wasn’t a handbook for this, though. There was no pamphlet to explain all the butterflies that would erupt in your stomach every time she’d smile at you slyly just before she’d lean it to initiate the kisses, no how-to for stopping the shake in your hands as you’d cradle thighs and cheeks alike as if they were the most sacred of sacrifices, no survival guide for all the heartache that now haunts your every waking moment when you think about the smell of her perfume. You had no one who could explain away your obsession with the taste of passion fruit lip smackers these days. 

You were in love with your best friend, and it sort of felt like some type of terrible shipwreck done by your own recklessness. 

And if she felt even an ounce of the same way, you couldn’t see it. You simply couldn’t allow yourself to read any further into the brushes of her hand in the hallways that had grown more consistent. If you daydreamed too long about the way she’d been so overly supportive of you wearing skirts to school more often these days, you’d quite possibly self-implode. It was all a dangerous game, a hopeless drowning in the middle of the Atlantic, and you were just letting it happen. 

“Why was that Connor guy talking to you in the hall today?”

And if you read too much into what you so desperately wanted to describe as jealousy in her tone right now, you’d certainly combust in the blink of an eye. 

It wasn’t even a Saturday – it was a Friday. Saturdays were the holy days, the days in which you could guarantee you’d taste her all over your tongue and be allowed to gather all your offerings in the form of worshiping whispers and guiding movements as she straddled your lap. The rest of the week, the two of you were nothing more than the best of friends. On Fridays, you should be nothing but two girls who find innocent and platonic solace in one another. 

It’s just hard to do when all you’re capable of thinking about is how soft the skin of her neck was nearly a week ago, when your lips had trailed down to her pulse point in such feathery light brushes. 

“Oh!” you sit up from where you’d been spread out on her bed, looking up at her with sudden excitement as you watch her spin in her desk chair, “I forgot to tell you! Holy shit, you’re going to love this.” 

The moment it had happened, you’d started mentally counting down the moments until you’d have the chance to tell Robin of the awkward conversation. You can’t believe you’d forgotten about it so easily once you’d gotten the girl alone. 

She pauses her spinning immediately, blinking rapidly as she was clearly dizzy, “What do you mean? Why am I going to love it?” 

“He asked me out to milkshakes.”

You wait. And wait. And wait. Nearly quaking with all the anticipation for your best friend to burst out into laughter with you over the irony of it all. 

You just keep waiting. 

The laughter never escapes Robin, her face stoic as she doesn’t even smile. All the giggles and rolling of eyes you’d expected to share is completely erased with that look on her face currently. A look you almost mistake as hurt, a look that reaches far beyond jealousy.

The look of someone standing amongst the wreckage of an abandoned ship. 

When she finally speaks again, with deflated shoulders and the corners of her mouth down-turned, it’s soft enough you almost miss it. “Did you say yes?” 

It was the one question you hadn’t been expecting – you’d assumed it had been a given that you’d turn the poor boy down. 

“Obviously not,” you snort, uneasy as you rifle through your mind, a sudden desperation to make Robin smile or to lighten the mood immediately rearing its head. 

“Obviously?” 

This conversation is very much not going the way you had seen it play out in your head. Robin’s missing all of her lines, none of her expressions lining with the directorial vision you’d been gifted with when the moment had happened. 

No saccharine laughter, no sweet joy. None of the sugared reactions are rotting your teeth out. 

Instead, there’s just a strange and hollow ache. The vacant expression of Robin’s face that twitches ever so slightly with something more below the surface, and a tension in the air that wraps around your throat tightly. 

“Yeah, I mean,” you choke out, trying to stave off your discomfort, “We both know how I feel about milkshake dates. And besides, he wanted to go tomorrow, and we already have plans-”

“You could’ve said yes,” she blurts out. As soon as the words fall in the space between you two, she’s wide-eyed, staring at you like a scared deer caught up in your headlights, “Our plans- They-” she pauses, and takes a deep breath that almost looks painful, “You could have said yes if you wanted to. I’d live. Plus, it’d give you a chance to put our lessons to use.” 

No sweetness, only a sour on your tongue that makes your face twist. “Why would I use our lessons on Connor from pottery?” 

Why would I ever want to kiss somebody that isn’t you? 

The thought easily makes you sick to your stomach. The lips of someone who isn’t Robin Buckley pressed to yours, the hands of someone who isn’t your best friend tracing the curves of your body. You think you’d rather die. 

“I dunno,” Robin is mumbling now, almost looking ashamed. The last thing you’d wanted to do was shame her. You’d just wanted to share a laugh with your best friend, “That was sort of the point, right? You wanted to get good at kissing-”

“We,” you correct her.

“What?”

“We wanted to get good at kissing. You can’t tell me there’s no boys in the band that have asked you out or you’d have a chance to kiss. You’re…” Even as the words are ash in your mouth, sticking to the roof of your mouth and making it hard to breathe, you force it all out. The only words left are the truth, anyways, “Beautiful, Robs. You’re fucking stunning, and funny, and so kind. Who’s your Connor from poetry, hm?” 

It’s a dagger to the heart. It’s alcohol on a paper cut, salt in a throbbing wound. Every cliche and morbid pain in the books is racing through you at what you’ve just said. Asking her about boys is worse than simply accepting it as a hypothetical. Having to actually hear about boys chasing after the girl that’s occupied you irrevocably is worse than imagining them all. 

At least in your imagination, they could all be fumbling over their feet, falling to the dirt as Robin cackles and arrives straight to her original destination – you. At least in your imagination, you stand a chance. 

“God, no,” she scrunches her nose up, immediately standing from her chair, “Oh my God, no. Ew. I don’t- I’d never-” 

“You’d never?” you raise an eyebrow, watching as she nearly starts to pace. 

“We were talking about you!” she bursts out, arms flailing out beside her, spinning so she was stood right in front of you, “You and Colton-”

“Connor.”

“-and how you should go get milkshakes with him! You should’ve said yes, okay? You could say you have a boyfriend when you get to college if you’d said yes.” 

Boyfriend. A word that will never, ever leave your lips. Not just when it came to Connor – when it came to all the boys in your school. All the boys in your town. All the boys in the goddamn world. 

That word doesn’t fit. It’s too tight, too confining. Strangles you in all the wrong places and makes your chest constrict in the worst way. 

You don’t want a boyfriend. 

You want your best friend to stop pacing, you want your best friend to hold your hand, you want it to be Saturday and for your best friend to kiss your fucking face off.

Pathetic, only because you don’t think you’ll ever find the nerve to say it to her out loud. 

“Who cares if I have a boyfriend when I go to college?” you spit out, struggling to even say the damn word, “I could give two shits if I-”

“I care!” Robin is turning erratic, wild as she tugs at her hair and looks at you with such misplaced desperation. You don’t know what she wants from you – you can’t give her what she’s asking of you, “I care, because you deserve to have that normal experience. You should be out there, kissing boys and going on dates to share a milkshake and- and- and… not spending your Saturdays with me, hiding away and kissing me and sharing chapstick and making me feel all these stupid feelings-” 

She cuts off roughly, a small gasp leaving her lips as she realizes what she’s just said. 

Making me feel all these stupid feelings. 

“What do you mean by that?” you whisper, sharing at her, shocked, “What do you mean by stupid feelings-”

“Forget it.”

“No.” 

“Yes,” she pleads, taking a step back when you stand up in front of her, “Dear God, please forget I ever said that. I’m literally begging you.” 

Stupid feelings. 

What does she even define as stupid feelings? 

Is it that her heart races whenever you suggest another lesson? Is it that warmth that spreads head to toe every time you grab her hand casually? Is it all that pain with nowhere to go at the end of the day, when you bury your face in a pillow and scream out all the what-ifs you assume you’ll never explore in this lifetime? 

You think about your parents. The ones who are never home, or are oblivious in the kitchen as you shut your door and quickly return to your bed, where your best friend is awaiting you eagerly just to get her tongue down your throat. You think of Robin’s parents, who force her to go to church every Sunday, never realizing she can still taste the strawberry chapstick all over her lips come morning. Whispering all their prayers in the same tone she’d whispered your name the night before. You think about all the peers your age who spend their Saturday nights in diners, sharing milkshakes and planning their futures – their normal futures. 

White picket fence, a mid-size dog to run around the yard. Two and a half kids, and a wedding ring gleaming on the finger on their left hand directly connected to their heart. The same one that Robin always fiddles with while the two of you sit and do homework together, the same one Robin once slipped an old coin-machine ring onto as a joke when you were thirteen, cackling about some sort of marriage pact that had every adult in vicinity glaring at the two of you. 

All the things you can’t dream about. Because when you do, it’s never the nice boy your father points out at the grocery store. It’s never that boy your mother finds absolutely darling, who lives two houses down and has offered to mow your lawn numerous times. 

Every time you try to picture it, it’s with Robin. 

Her with a matching ring you’ve bought for a quarter, her lipstick staining the matching mug on your kitchen counter during a quiet morning. Kids with her freckles, kids with all her spunk. A dog she’d name something incredibly niche, and that you’d fight her on endlessly, but end up giving in simply because you love her. 

Whenever you try to look to the future, it’s with the girl before you, who has tears gathering in her lash line now. Embarrassment painting every inch of her exposed skin, and her chest stuttering with every gasping breath. 

Stupid feelings. You’d become entirely acquainted with stupid feelings, you just hadn’t realized that Robin had as well. 

“What do you mean by that, Robs?” your voice cracks, begging all but on your knees at this moment. Everything you could possibly want right in an arm’s reach. 

You don’t even need the picket fence or the dog. Kids could vanish right from the dream. The house could become a quaint apartment in the city. The morning coffee could be traded for peppermint tea. As long as the thing that never changes is her, you don’t really care where the visions lead. 

She says your name so softly, you nearly break down entirely. You want to hear it for the rest of your days. The way the shape of your name curls around her tongue and falls from her lips, “You should just forget I said anything, I mean it. Go home and call Connor-”

“Fuck Connor!” you suddenly raise your voice, so entirely done with all the boy talk. All the expectations and all the definitions of normal. Your finger on your left hand, connected directly to your heart, throbs. “I don’t want to share some half-melted milkshake with that… with that… idiot! I want to share it with the idiot in front of me right now. I don’t want to practice kissing on him, I want to practice with you. I don’t want him, and I don’t want that boy who bags groceries at Melvald’s, and I don’t-” 

Robin Buckley is the brave one. She shuts you up about all the ones you don’t want, by giving you the one thing you do want. 

Soft palms, soft lips. Gentle hesitation to soothe the scars of a future you never really cared for. Fruity lip balm that somehow perfectly matches airy perfume. 

She’s kissing you like her life depends on it. Like she’s feeling an ache in the joints of that finger connected to the heart, and she just can’t take it anymore. Like she loves you. Or at least likes you. 

And you’ll take what you can get when you reach up to grab onto her anywhere you can find. Bunching her shirt at her hip with your first, fingers curling around her forearm that’s connected to the hand cradling your cheek. You can’t possibly lean into it all enough; can’t press your lips any tighter against hers, can’t have any more of your limbs bumping into hers as you stumble backwards and onto her bed. 

She’s crawling over you, little puffs of breaths escaping between kisses, hovering above you with a halo of sunlight leaking in through her bedroom window. 

She looks like a God you don’t believe in, and one she can’t be spoon-fed to worship anymore. All holier notions are focused on you. Fingers trailing their way up under your shirt and hips bumping against yours as you both try to learn what to do with this new position. 

It’s better than your best friend seated in your lap, timidly moving her tongue. It’s nicer. 

“Stupid feelings,” you breathe out when she moves to pepper kisses on your cheek, on your jaw, on your neck, “Stupid fucking feelings.” 

“Sometimes, I wish we’d never started the lessons, you know?” she whispers when she pauses at your collarbone, peering up at you with those glossy blue eyes. Oceans deep, ready for your ship to roll right into. Ready for your ship to crash in. “It made all of this so much harder and complicated.” 

Your fingers slide into her hair, tugging at the sporadic pieces that you’d helped cut a year ago. The saddest excuse for layers ever, “Made what harder?” 

You want to hear her say it. You need to hear her say it. 

“Liking you.”

If hearts could burst, yours would be fluttering shreds behind your ribs. Nothing more than the aftermath of finally, finally, hearing those words fall from her lips. 

“You like me?” your cheeks ache immediately from your grin, so wide it occupies your entire face. You swear you can see its reflection in her eyes. 

Her head lifts and you see some of the fear still lingering behind her own smile, “Yeah, doofus. I like you. A lot, actually. And I just always assumed you liked that Cooper boy-”

“His name is Connor.”

“I know,” she laughs, face contorting as she bites back more giggles. It’s no use though, as her head falls forward and her forehead lands on the center of your chest, “I just- God, I sort of hated him. I heard him ask you out for the milkshake and I just wanted to punch the dude-”

“You heard?” you’re laughing now, head thrown back, “I’m sorry, you knew why I was talking to him, and you still tried to play all coy and ask me?” 

“Can you blame a girl for trying?” 

No. No, you really couldn’t. You can only imagine the ridiculous plans you’d elaborately conjure if you’d ever overheard a boy asking Robin out on a date. All the jealousy ploys and childish schemes, born out of all the sunshine she’s been instilling in you since the first day you’d met her. 

And imagining that is fine. But what you no longer have to imagine is a Robin who chooses you, the scenario in which you can simply grab her and kiss her until you’ve run out of breaths and your lungs have shriveled into nothing more than feathers in your chest. 

So you do. 

You tug her back up to you and kiss her, far more languid than she’d initially kissed you. The slow movements of lips with all the time in the world. The steady movements of hands that belong as you run them over her shoulders and down her back, bring them to those hips you’d been adoring every Saturday. 

You kiss Robin Buckley on a Friday, simply because you can. 

Nice, your mind rings out. Nice, nice, nice. 

This was nice – this was right. None of that discomfort at the thought of letting Connor kiss you, no strangulation at the word boyfriend. You feel like you can breathe for the first time in your life as you kiss your best friend serenely and let all of that love seep out of your skin when it presses to hers. In the background of it all, a new word forms, a soft blanket of comfort rather than something to wrap around your throat. 

Girlfriend.

Now that? That sounds nice. 

“Hey,” Robin says when she pulls back slowly, tip of her nose still bumping yours, the weight of her still between your thighs, “Do you want to…. I don’t know, go get a milkshake with me or something?” 

You don’t think about either of your parents, or any of the self-righteous vipers who might be prowling the town on a Friday night. You know it won’t be the same as going to the diner with a nice boy – you know you won’t be able to kiss her on the street or cuddle up quite as obviously, keep her quite as close as you so desperately ached to, but it was okay. 

It was enough. For now. 

“Only if we can get strawberry,” you quip, unable to help yourself as you lean up for another brief peck. 

The peck isn’t enough. You don’t think any amount of Robin’s treacly kisses would ever be enough. You’d probably spend an entire lifetime just trying to get your fill. 

“Deal,” she rasps, clearly sharing the sentiment as she leans back down, kissing you right back. Eager lips not quite satisfied. 

There would be no screaming or crying into pillows tonight. 

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[gourmetbeef]

[cocktailjjrs]

Soukoku has ruined it for me...

Any other pairing for Chuuya and Dazai in whatever context you wanna take it - platonic, romantic, found family, soulmates, enemies, frenemies etc etc - one can't be without the other or in the same capacity what they have with each other...

Like, I can never imagine Dazai getting frustrated with anyone and downright saying to their face - 'You're no ray of sunshine either' - other than Chuuya

or Chuuya ever saying - 'I used corruption because i trusted you' to anyone other than Dazai (tbf, he literally can't say even if he wants to, unless it's another nullifier)

or Dazai spending day and night, thinking up ways to annoy anyone but Chuuya

or Chuuya doing a rich girl impression or equivalent just because someone said he will do so

or Dazai talking about how anyone's ability is too overpowered and its final form, sound equal parts smug, fond and worried

or Chuuya looking at any agency fight and thinking, if it was Dazai there won't have been a fight to begin with

or Dazai planting a bomb under any of his friends/colleague's car, fully certain it won't harm them

or Chuuya shooting his subordinates out of their discussed plan, just to shut them up because they were getting cringe

Or you know - the in general - devising a whole plan, heading into enemy's side, getting stabbed with poison and trusting the other will save you, without any sort of communication what so ever.

And the said other person, doing exactly as was expected of them and activating the uncontrollable part of their ability, without any confirmation of the only person known to deactivate is even alive.

One shotting the other in head, the other letting it happen.

One trusting the other with their humanity, and other making sure to keep it intact.

One getting kidnapped and leaving a clue that only the other could connect.

.

.

.

I mean, you could argue one or two of these things can happen with either half of Soukoku and someone else, but all of these?

They may have n number of different kinds of relations with all the other's from bsd verse, but what they have with each other is unique and it's only them who will have that kind of thing...

I'm not saying they are a ideal - friends, enemies, couple.... Partners

What I'm saying is, what ever they are to each other - is the best they will get... it's one of a kind - only piece available in the whole world

[socgf]

dallas winston and his pretty girlfriend 💌