#the son of the king fanfic

[starry-bi-sky]

Unpleasant Revelations - DPxDC Ficlet Idea for the Stillborn Au

"Have you met my youngest, Damian, Mr. Masters?"

Its only from twenty years of long, hard experience and practice that Vlad doesn't increase the room temperature from 'borderline uncomfortably cool' to 'unbearably hot' the moment Bruce Wayne pulls his youngest and "only" biological son out in front of him.

He puts only in quotations because twelve year old Damian Wayne looks scarily, uncannily like one Daniel Brown. Jack and Maddie's foster son, second victim of their foolishness, and only other halfa in existence. Second only to him.

It's nauseating how similar they look. From the scowl and terrible glare on the young boy's face, to his brown skin -- which was only a few shades lighter than Daniel's, the shape of his nose, and even the strange winged edge of his eyebrow. Something that Vlad has long since come to find endearing on the child he considered a son of his own. The only difference was that Damian had dark, sharp green eyes.

Daniel's eyes were blue. The same glacier shade as his father's, who stood behind Damian with a proud, oafish smile on his visage.

It was infuriating how similar they look. Vlad might not have rapidly swung the room temperature from one extreme to the other, but he can't stop himself from letting the fury burning within his core from slipping out and raising the temperature up a few degrees.

Because it really only meant one thing.

Damian Wayne and Daniel Brown were related.

Damian Wayne and Daniel Brown were brothers.

Standing in front of him, it was clear as day. He can already picture a phantom image of Daniel standing beside Damian, the same scowl written on his face, the same glare carved into his eyes. The only difference being the dark, exhausted circles beneath them that seemed to be permanently painted onto his skin. The only thing missing being the permanent loneliness and vigilance permeating his being like a scar.

This, if revealed, would be enough to ruin Bruce Wayne's reputation. Or, at the very least, darken it quite a bit. The great philanthropist Bruce Wayne with another secret blood child? One related to his youngest? One that had been put into foster care? Seemingly thrown away?

It would be a firestorm.

One that Vlad is not keen on starting.

It would ruin Bruce Wayne's reputation, yes. But it would hurt Daniel in the process -- the harassment he would face alone might just be enough to break that fragile child completely. That was just not something he could allow. Or, even worse, bring him into his biological father's care and custody -- something Vlad was even less willing to allow.

It's not out of kindness to Wayne that Vlad will keep mum about this.

His grip on his champagne flute tightens, just a bit. He's still aware enough of the world around him to not let it shatter in his hands. His plastered, pleasant smile tightens around the corners, and he forces his focus to slide from Damian to Wayne.

"The resemblance is uncanny, Mister Wayne." He says, slanting his smile to the side slyly. Although he's not talking about the resemblance between Wayne and his son. Rage simmers beneath his skin, burning coal and embers in the core of his chest, nestled between his lungs, as he meets the man's eyes.

Wayne swaggles his head proudly, his ditzy smile widening as he squeezes his son's shoulder affectionately. Bastard, Vlad wants to spit.

He breathes in through his nose, and exhales out through his mouth. The champagne in his hand cools, and stops its unusual bubbling.

The Damian boy scoffs under his breath, his mouth still coiled upward into a scowl. With the revelation of his blood relation to Daniel evident, Vlad's not sure if he should find it endearing or not.

He is not Daniel, so he decides that it's just simply irritating. He decides to ignore it.

"And you said he was your only biological son?" He asks, voice lilting and head tilting. He knows its a suspicious question at worst, insulting at best. But considering Wayne's past proclivities, he can hardly call it an unexpected question.

Damian puffs in great offense, face twisting angrily. It reminds him of Daniel when Vlad insisted that he was wrong about something or other, and for a moment his heart swells, fond.

But this is not his child, and so the feeling quickly crashes and burns, simmering back into rage. This was not Daniel -- this was his replacement. A replacement that Wayne was free to keep.

Wayne chuckles, idiotically, as if he'd said some funny joke. Vlad's other hand, the one gripping his cane -- something he's required ever since he was dispatched from the hospital all those lonely years ago -- tightens instead. He grinds his teeth -- him and Jack Fenton would get along like a house on fire, he hates it.

"I can understand why you'd ask that, Mister Masters," Wayne says, squeezing Damian's shoulder again, "but yes, Damian is my only biological son. Although that doesn't mean I don't love my other children any less."

Bastard.

For all his posturing and flouncing about caring for his city and his children, Vlad never would have thought the Prince of Gotham capable of abandoning one of them.

But, well.

They all have their dark secrets.

And what one man throws away, another man picks up. If Bruce Wayne didn't want the treasure child that was Daniel Brown, then Vlad Masters was more than happy to take him instead.

"I see."

[bagginshieldfamily]

Okay but the fix it writers when it’s been three, no, nearly four year after Bilbo left the lonely mountain. He saw them die. Thorin and his nephews. He knew he couldn’t stay to watch them mourn. He felt to responsible for having been knocked out earlier and now being the sole reason the line of Durin has fallen. But then those four years later, Bilbo is doing his merry finest to act like nothing had happened to crush his soul. To act like a regular hobbit around the others. He gardens and bakes and hell, he’s has a little fauntling toddling about the hobbit hole. He had a family. A boy. And then that early morning knock at breakfast. A very much alive and desperate looking King Under the Moutian and his trusted company. All alive and accounted for at his round home door. There was a lot of misunderstanding later and explaining that was gonna need done from both sides, especially with a certain tiny dwobbit playing on the ground.

[st-pop]

Doodles of some of my favourite scenes from my all time favourite fanfic ‘ A Revealed Past ‘ by @lyricalpiece

No joke i have re-read this more than 5 times, this fic lives in my brain and stays there like a goddamn hobbit i love this so much PLEASE read this its so good. Its funny, has angst, and silly people. 🫶‼️

[starsfic]

lmk prompt: mk and red son finally building up the courage to confess to each other but they ended up screaming their feelings out due to nervousness lmao (bonus: the gang + DBK and PIF are watching in the bg)

"I LOVE YOU!"

"I LOVE YOU TOO!"

"Wow."

"That's...quite the pair of lungs they have," Sandy said, offering a cup of tea to the demon queen sitting next to his oldest friend. Princess Iron Fan accepted, a gleam in her eyes as she took a delicate sip. "Should we be concerned?"

"No," she said, looking at them all. Her husband looked away, his face visibly darkening. Not with anger but with embarrassment. "It's a good sign. It shows that they were brave enough to confess despite their nerves. My husband was like that."

He had yelled at her and, for a good minute, she had been offended. But then she had looked at him, really looked at him, and saw the trembling in his form, the sweat that matted his fur. It was the same shaking and sweating her dear son had. Like his father, he had collapsed to his knees. Unlike his father, he was holding the Noodle Boy who was smiling into his hair, lucky enough and proud enough to not lower himself to begging.

She liked her husband begging, but not for her heart.

"Get me a copy of that picture," she said to the Long girl, who had her phone up and was snapping pictures.

"On it, boss!"

[witchthewriter]

𝐁𝐞𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐔𝐡𝐭𝐫𝐞𝐝'𝐬 𝐕𝐢𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐫𝐢𝐨𝐫 𝐬/𝐨 𝐰𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐥𝐮𝐝𝐞

⤷ gender neutral, ambiguous race, and any size reader. Requests are open, thank you for reading!  

Warnings: violence

a/n: nsfw included (ha duh)

ᴹᵃˢᵗᵉʳˡᶤˢᵗ | ᴹᵃˢᵗᵉʳˡᶤˢᵗ ᴵᴵ

ESFP

Gryffindor

Neutral Good

Aries Sun, Sagittarius Moon, Capricorn Rising

𝑺𝑭𝑾🌿

・Trusting other's wasn't easy for Uhtred. Well, until a person saves his life.

・It didn't seem like a big deal at the time. The decision was easy to make. With four men against thirty, it was more than an unequal fight.

・Standing out of sight, you grabbed one of your silver-tipped arrows and aimed.

・The leader of the large group of men faltered in his step. His gaze trying to locate the source of the arrow, which had landed exactly where he was about to step.

"Hiding is cowardice," the man bellowed. His thick furs unable to hide his fear.

With a raised eyebrow you huffed, not taking the obvious bait.

・You saw one of the men raise a dagger and as he was about to throw it, you released another arrow. Straight into his shoulder.

・Then the fighting started. It only took ten minutes for it to stop.

・You didn't just have great aim with an arrow, you were deadly with daggers as well.

・Now years later, you're found by Uhtred's side. Where he goes, you go. There isn't an issue with him bringing you along on his travels - he knows you can look after yourself.

・A favourite of Finan's, Osferth's & Sihtric's. As you were the only person Uhtred would listen to. Truly listen to.

・And allow himself to be told off by.

・So the three men think you are some sort of powerful being.

・Osferth actually had a bit of a crush on you for a while. Whenever you spoke to him, he would blush.

・Finan and Sihtric teased him relentlessly, and Uhtred overheard them one evening. But he was not jealous. Not in the slightest.

・Osferth nearly died on the spot when he heard Uhtred speaking though.

"I think anyone could fall in love with them. They make it so easy."

・However, it did take a while for Uhtred to tell you about his past. A long, long while. It came in little packages. As if he couldn't say too much at once.

・Showing emotion wasn't one of his great strengths

・But gods forbid if anything happened to you

・There was a time that you had been kidnapped and he nearly tore himself apart trying to find you. All logical thinking had disappeared.

・He knew he couldn't live without you, but knowing that it was a possibility, hit him like a physical blow.

・You are his heart, the person that he always wants to be around. There is no him, without you.

・For years he did not know what his destiny was.

・But now he knows.

・It's you.

𝑹𝒆𝒍𝒂𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏𝒔𝒉𝒊𝒑 𝑻𝒓𝒐𝒑𝒆𝒔

Overly arrogant, flirty (Uhtred) x Absolutely unfazed (You)

"Give me attention." (Uhtred) x "If the world knew you were like this, they'd be shocked." (You)

"Wtf did you do now?" (You) x "It was an accident!" (Uhtred)

𝑹𝒐𝒎𝒂𝒏𝒕𝒊𝒄 𝑷𝒍𝒐𝒕 𝑻𝒓𝒐𝒑𝒆

You Save His Life & He Could Not Get You Out Of His Head

𝑻𝒉𝒆𝒎𝒆 𝑺𝒐𝒏𝒈

Lívstræðrir by John Lunn, Eivør

𝑁𝑆𝐹𝑊 🔞 No one under the age of 18 past this point.

・Uhtred is a giving and passionate lover. As soon as you get time to yourselves, his hands are holding you tight against him. Lips attached to yours in a firm and feverish kiss.

・Behind closed doors is where you see Uhtred's full abilities.

・It's not as if he cannot please you while travelling, it's that he cannot reach the limits that he can when he's able to be fully naked and without interruption.

・At home, with the warm glow of the fire in your joint chamber, he shows you how much he loves you.

・Your naked form underneath his, chest to chest, heart's beating in the same rhythm.

・If you've been apart for a long time, then Uhtred cannot keep his hands off of you, nor can he endure your clothing. Sex is rougher, slightly quicker, but that doesn't mean once is enough.

・No, once is never enough for Uhtred.

・There never goes a night without him at least making you cum. Thrice.

[green-watcher]

A son for a son. 🖤

[falling-star-cygnus]

What do you think would happen if Billy never left the Sons? This could be an interesting alternative timeline

I think if Billy never left the Sons his personality would be pretty different compared to the one he has now, he'd be more serious and from the POV of a son's member Billy is a chill android that acts like a big brother figure to a majority of the sons with Caesar King being an exception a majority of the time

forcing myself to write bc depression is MY bitch 💪 and i will not be letting it dictate one of my favorite hobbies -> and this is a fantastic prompt!

the voices are COOKING despite my lack of motivation though, i've got so many ideas [specifically in HSR] and it's killing me. ah, but i digress

enjoy!!!

"ANBY! IF YOU WANDER OFF ONE MORE TIME I'M PUTTING YOU ON THE LEASH!"

Nicole was going to go grey before she hit her thirties. It was practically guaranteed, especially if she had to keep wrangling in a former weapon that insisted on disappearing all the damn time!

She only looked away for a second! How did she lose not one, but both of her subordinates? The boss of the Cunning Hares could divert and run with the best of them but these two...

Maybe if she shouted louder they'd come back.

"NEKOMATA, THAT INCLUDES YOU!"

"Why are ya yelling?"

Nicole trips over her damn own feet.

"Ack- who are you!?" she practically shrieks, readying her briefcase should she need to make a hasty escape.

It's not so subtly met with the tip of- is that a freakin' flamethrower!? Does she have two freakin' flamethrowers!? Just- on her!?

"The name's Burnice!" the- admittedly pretty cute girl chirps, offering her free hand down to the Boss of the Hares, "What's yours?"

The ashy blonde's hand feels rough, like a bartenders, and she hauls the Hare to her feet with a surprising amount of ease. Seriously, it's like- nothing to her. Nicole finds herself stumbling again.

This was getting annoying..

"Oops," Burnice chuckles, elated as she steadies her current conversation partner, "Sorry about that. Guess I don't know my own strength anymore! Our android, Billy, falls over a lot too!"

She didn't like the implications there. Eh, at least she wasn't being called heavier than a hunk of metal..

"Don't worry about it.. I'm Nicole, by the way, of the Cunning Hares." Well, it's not like it would hurt to introduce herself. The Outer Ring was full of people with... less than legal activities.

It's not like the Hares were a beacon of law abidance themselves, of course, but- still. Maybe they'd think twice before messing with the boss of a known organization.

Maybe.

...hopefully.

"Wait- did you say Billy? Like.. Billy Kid? The Billy Kid? The Enforcer?"

Burnice practically squeals, and Nicole realizes- far too late- that she was being led somewhere.

...honestly, she's just kind of impressed the pyromaniac could skip in such skinny heels. Wow. That took talent. The implications that this cute girl knew such a large name finally don on the pink haired boss.

"Are you a Son?"

"No, silly, I'm a girl!"

"...of Calydon," Nicole clarifies.

"Oh. Yeah!"

Not a thought but fire in that head, huh...

A familiar weight glomps onto Nicole's sides, all skinny arms and puffy sleeves and chubby cheeks. The relief that unfurls in her chest is staggering.

"Aw, look! You found your friends.. unless you don't know them, and they're robbing you. That would definitely make this less cute."

Anby huffs in displeasure at the assumption, and squeezes closer. Ah... she was so cute when she wasn't being murderous.

Nekomata, on the other hand, she could feel stealing her wallet.

"Put it- DON'T PULL OUT YOUR BLADES WHILE I'M BETWEEN YOU TWO!"

Why does she keep needing to have this conversation!? Nicole grabs the thiren girl by the ear and the former weapon by the cheek, scowling herself as the two bicker like spoiled children.

Spoiled children that were trying to skewer each other threw their boss. She feels a vein tick in her forehead.

"QUIT IT!"

They quiet down.

Burnice is practically cackling in the background as the two mumble properly chastised apologies and sheath their blades.

"You- you guys are like Lighter and-" the pyromaniac giggles her way through her sentence, "Lighter and-"

"Burnice! Did you wander off again?" a new voice cuts in.

There's no way.

There's absolutely no way.

Running into a Son of literal friggin Calydon was crazy enough! Nicole had hoped to get the hell out of dodge before she ran into another one. Specifically, before she wandered into their marksmen.

This was somehow worse.

Because that was fucking Caesar.

The Caesar King.

Admittedly, she was similarly being glomped on by her pyromaniac like Nicole had been a few moments prior- but she was still the leading lady of a gang.

There was very little that could diminish that!

"Don't you remember what happened last time?" the pale-haired woman continued, scolding like a big sister, "I thought we all agreed that we'd wait to wander off alone until the-"

King glanced at the group of curious Hares.

"...threat had been taken care of. Kid is still out of commission, and he's made of metal. Buddy system, Burnice."

Anby and Nekomata straighten up at the familiar moniker- even as the ashy blonde pouts. Caesar rests a hand on her shoulder, keeping her voice close to a whisper.

"We all want to put this thing in the ground, believe me. But we can't if it picks us off one by one."

Huh... maybe they were closer knit than Nicole had previously thought. They were certainly protective of each other.

. . . . . . . . .

The question burns on the tip of Anby's tongue, but she doesn't know if she can ask it. She doesn't want to potentially make an enemy for the Hares by offending them.

Hm.. she needed an extrovert friend, like in the movies.

Maybe Nekomata would..

"Sorry if this is rude, but... Billy Kid. Is he- ...alright? You mentioned he was out of commission."

Or Nicole would ask, that worked too. Either way, Anby got her answers.

Burnice and Caesar glance at each other- twin flashes of what could only be described as mischief flitting between them.

"It was tragic," the ashy blonde wails, falling backwards into Caesar's arms like a damsel struck, "Our poor boy... crushed into spare parts!"

The leading lady of the Sons sniffs in return, looking similarly crestfallen, "Truly, it was a massacre. It took us hours to find everything. But- by the time we did..."

She's obviously lying- at least, on some scale, but the other two Hares eat it up like it's their first meal in weeks. They gasp, hands raised to their mouth as they're lead to the wrong conclusion.

"It was too late," the pale-haired woman finishes, still holding up her team member.

What could possibly fall a feared war machine?

Throughout this whole spiel, the two Calydon members had been leading them back to their base of operations- something about restocking their supplies and escorting them back to Sixth street.

It was kind of bare bones, to be honest, no shelter from the sky and just a handful of couches around a fire. But maybe Anby had just gotten used to a bed and warm bodies.

"I'm so sorry to hear that-"

"WOULD YOU QUIT TELLING PEOPLE I'M DEAD!?"

There it is.

The voice is vaguely mechanical but human, or- alive sounding. More alive than Anby had ever sounded. A shock of white hair, kinda similar to hers actually but infinitely fluffier, pops up from one of the couches.

Burnice and Caesar practically fall into each other cackling and holding their stomachs.

"You're freaking them out!" the android continues, as he shifts as if to stand up.

Caesar is immediately on his case.

"Ah-ah-ah, sit your metal ass back down," she bites, rounding the corner to push him down, "We're still repairing your wiring and battery- which means you need to take it easy, Starlight."

Something loosens under the white haired girl's chest, something like misplaced relief. She doesn't know why, she's only ever heard stories of this guy, but-

Her surroundings suddenly feel like they've been painted in 4D.

There's so much going on around Anby that it's hard to think- Nekomata is yowling as Burnice tries to pet her, Nicole is tapping on her phone- an insistent beep-beep-beep that clouds her head, and it hurts, it hurts, it hurts, it hurts-

She wants it to stop-

Oh.

Cool metal fingers have slid under her headphones, quieting the outside noise as pale ambers meet bright yellows. The leading lady is clearly displeased that he had moved, but understanding and pure fondness is there too.

This close, Anby can see where pure havoc was wreaked on his build. Deep gouges line his lanky arms, his right leg is downright gone, and his fingers have a near imperceptible shake over her tired ears.

Again, what could've caused this to an android built for war?

The world quiets further as the people around the two take notice of the infamous marksmen, and the former weapon feels like she can breathe again. The android pulls his hands away and fixes her headphones.

"Sorry. You just- looked overwhelmed."

Anby shakes her head, not quite trusting her voice, and gestures back towards the couch. Go sit down, she tries to convey.

If Billy Kid had a mouth, the former weapon guarantees he'd be scowling. The flat expression- of his eyes- seems so wildly out of place on his faceplate that it makes the girl pause.

Regardless, the android hops back to the couch- two blonde girls half his height appearing out of nowhere to help him hobble along on his singular leg.

The one in the spiked helmet things say something about 'naptime' to the girl with the flower shaped bun and it sounds vaguely like a threat. Looks like a threat too as Billy Kid squawks and tries to soften the smaller girl's landing.

She had just- flopped into his lap. And fallen asleep.

It feels.... odd. Like she was watching the same plot of a movie with a different filter.

The war android was nicer than she thought he'd be.

Anby finds herself standing behind the couch, leaning forward to drive the seriousness off her offer home.

"Do you want to join the Cunning Hares?"

[hirokosoul]

[autism-autobot]

Flower of a Poisonous Seed Story Facts!

Will be called FloaPS Facts!

Wukong carries his blanket everywhere with him now.

Nezha can tell when Wukong's pretending he's fine but really isn't. (Most people can't tell when Wukong is having a bad day)

Nezha found out that Wukong loves flowers and gets them whenever possible.

Spicynoodles and Freenoodles are canon in FloaPS

Red Son still doesn't know what happened between MK and his uncle Wukong.

MK seemed angry and quite nearly lashed out at him when asked, and Wukong just stared into the distance like he was having flashbacks and started crying. Red Son never asked either of them again.

MK and the rest of the crew don't know Wukong is sick. What they do know is that Wukong's house is covered in blood, smashed in picture frames, origami dragons, and drawings of various flowers.

Nezha was never able to fully wash the blood out of Wukong's house, and he stopped trying. Wukong didn't like seeing his house in such a state as it triggered him further. They've stayed at Nezha's house since then.

DBK carries Wukong around in a swaddled blanket. Even when Wukong could still walk on his own unhelped, he still did this.

Macaque hasn't seen Wukong's house yet, but noticed Wukong's heartbeat hasn't been at his house in a long time, and it concerns him.

MK didn't tell Red Son about Wukong's house because he didn't want Red Son or his family to worry about him.

Nezha has a list of planned babysitters for Wukong: 1. DBK + fam 2. Erlang Shen 3. Xiaotian Quan (Erlang's dog, who is very capable) 4. LITERALLY ANYONE ELSE 5. Li Jing

Most of heaven is aware that Wukong is sick. Some people don't care, others gossip about it, and some leave "get well soon" gifts for him, i.e., medicine, blankets, balloons, flowers, food (not peaches, not again), etc.

The initial reason Nezha didn't immediately take Wukong to a doctor is that hardly anyone in the medical field knows anything about stone monkeys.

Wukong's first pica incident left him without three of his limbs (arms and a leg), they grew back.

Nezha sometimes cries himself to sleep after Wukong has an incident and is asleep himself. Wukong doesn't know this.

DBK + fam aren't much better off, they worry too, but they're able to comfort each other.

Sometimes, Wukong gets overwhelmed and overstimulated and gets very quiet. Nezha has learned that quiet is rarely a good thing when it comes to Wukong.

Wukong likes to cuddle the closest person he's comfortable with when he's overstimulated. He'll smell their scent and get comforted by it.

Red Son once caught Wukong sniffing his hair and thought he just liked his conditioner. Wukong was just trying not to have a meltdown.

Wukong's only had a meltdown once since getting sick, and it caused him to be bedridden for a few days afterward.

Macaque can't hear Wukong's heartbeat when he's in heaven.

Wukong's favorite mobility aid is his cloud (which he also considers a pet), but it comes and goes as it pleases. He doesn't want to guilt-trip his cloud into staying with him 24-7.

@swkbiggestdefender @starrclown! @ainnur

Part 2

Masterpost

[figsnpassionfruits]

i've seen you reposted some size kink stories- where are you finding thoseeeee?? i have been looking for so long trying to find them- i just love how they make me feeeeeel

Ugh, trust me I know! I have a bunch of writers that follow and I just love their work. Usually, I just look through their Masterlist to try to find anything that mentions what I am looking for. That way you can explore all the works of a specific writer instead of just using the search bar on the tumblr dashboard, because for some reason, it never is accurate enough for me.

But don't even get me started on the size kink stuff.

I just love how feeling small and vulnerable, lying underneath a man who could tear me apart if he wanted to. There is just something so hot about it. Here he is, with the strength, but he's using it to make you feel good. ugh.

Also, here are some authors whose work I am in love with:

@stargirlfics @starktonyx @wadedickpool @holylulusworld @thorsthot @littlefreya @pastafossa @imaginemegood @hotdamnhunnam @carni-val @rayslittlekitten @little-diable @twola @emmcfrxst @messrmoonyy @lovearthur

[starry-bi-sky]

What's a scarier thing to say than 'I love you?' - DPXDC Stillborn Au Ficlet

Danny doesn't believe in the words "I love you".

People always say it's one of the scariest things people can say to another, because it lays them bare in front of the one they say it to, revealing their vulnerabilities and true thoughts and feelings to the world like an open wound. Telling someone you love them is the bravest thing you can do.

He thinks it's a load of bullshit. He's had two of his foster parents tell him they loved him, only to turn around and stab him in the back days, weeks, months, minutes later. Anyone can say they love you with nothing more than a sweet smile and a dagger hidden behind their spines. 'I love you' is an empty phrase, one that makes his heart beat unpleasantly in his chest and his palms sweat as he waits for the other shoe to drop.

'I love you' is a ploy. A plot. A lie. It's a coward's way out. If someone loves him, he wants them to show it, not say it. Because if 'I love you' is such a scary thing to say, it should be easier to show it in their hands, in their actions.

Wanna know what he thinks is the scariest thing in the world to say? What most people hem and haw and try and avoid? Try and deny, deny, deny?

The words, 'I hate you'.

There, that's the scariest thing in the world to say. Everybody can say 'I love you' and say they mean it, he's found that nobody wants to say 'I hate you' and say they mean it. That's a phrase everyone gets uncomfortable with, that everyone doesn't want to believe no matter how much you insist it.

Danny wonders a lot about why that is. Why everyone can love everyone, but nobody can hate anybody.

He thinks it's because hate can be personal in a way that's too similar to love. You can hate in a lot of ways, just like you can love a lot of ways. But in order to hate someone, really hate someone, in a way that's not far off and distant like distaste, but truly personal, burning and all-consuming loathing, you need to care about them in some way.

To hate someone implies an investment in their well-being in a way that mirrors love. It indicates a level of importance that person holds in your life that exceeds beyond simple indifference or disgust (an emotion easily mistaken for hatred despite its fleetingness).

To hate someone and to say you hate someone means that the thought of them fills you with a fire that carves into the marrow of your bones. That you think of them, even if it's not in a good way. To hate you need passion. To love you need passion.

To look someone in the eyes and say you hate them, and truly, really mean it, that is something that takes courage. That is something that requires you to lay your soul bare and reveal your vulnerabilities like an open wound.

But he supposes he can understand the confusion.

Hate and Love are not opposites after all, they're siamese twins.

Nobody ever wants to say they hate someone. Everyone wants to say they love somebody.

He wishes his foster parents had just said outright they had hated him, he wishes they hadn't strung him along with calorie-less love. He wishes they had just left him alone rather than sat him on the rug they were gonna pull out from under his feet. The ones who said they loved him hurt worse than the ones that never said it at all.

At least the people who said they hate him are honest about it.

What was he doing again?

He curls tighter into himself, his arms squeezing around his legs as burning magma flow spills over his shoulders and cocoons him away from the chill of the living. Danny's hair had broken out of its braid some time ago, and he'd burned off the excess lava and thrown it to the side to get it off his back, but it never takes long to grow back longer.

It's fine, it's fine. It's letting him hide.

Danny's not sure how long he sits there, stewing in his own heat and hurt, but it's long enough that he forgets why he's even there in the first place. It's long enough that the terrified fury lashing out in his core like a solar flare cools and settles, and then forgets why it was even lashing out at all.

It's long enough that he falls asleep.

Long enough that when he wakes up, it's to the feeling of a hand pushing away his hair like one pushes back a curtain in order to peer at the sunrise behind it. Fingers, sharp, clawed, brush over the bridge of his nose and his cheek in order to tuck the magma out of his face.

There's only one person capable of touching his hair -- made of magma and always burning, reflecting his own feelings, untouchable to the living -- without melting their hand right off. Danny peeks open his bleary, tear-sore eyes, and sees Vlad Masters, as Plasmius, kneeling through his lashes.

He's too exhausted to be angry at his appearance. Danny goes to say something -- to ask why he's here, why he's bothering him -- and all it comes out as is incoherent grumbling. Plasmius breathes out through his nose, a soft little sighing sound that follows with a smile shadowing over his mouth.

It's terribly fond, it's terribly foreign, and it sparks terror in Danny's heart.

(Sam compared him once to a traumatized alley cat, she wasn't that far off from it.)

"There you are." Plasmius says, voice terribly soft and just the slightest bit chiding. He brushes more of Danny's hair out of the way, thumb brushing over his brow bone, affection that he acts as if it's so easy to give. As if it’s so easy to extend to him, like he deserves it. Affection that Danny is so horribly starved for that the feeling makes him both nauseous and ravenous. "Your little friends were worried about you. When they couldn't find you, they called me."

Again goes unsaid and un-lingering, but it still pierces guilt through Danny like a shot to the head. It's not the first time this has happened, and he doubts it will ever be the last. He squeezes his eyes shut in shame, and ducks his head down into his knees like a scolded child.

Apologies come easy, like an automated message machine, even if it burns and thickens the back of his throat. Danny swallows the heat in his mouth and reaches for something even easier to say; "Go away."

Plasmius clucks his tongue, completely unaffected, and his hands move to gather the magma spilling over Danny's shoulders into his palms. "And leave you alone? I'm your archnemesis, little badger, I'm afraid that's not allowed."

Danny tries to glare at him even if his core swells with a feeling he can't name, a burning, gelling feeling like a bubble in a volcano about to burst. He tries again, and bares his fangs for good measure, "Fuck off."

His voice breaks, trembling like a little kid, and lacks any sincerity or bite.

Again, Plasmius just looks terrifyingly fond, if a bit exasperated, his eyes rolling despite the lack of visible iris. Danny watches from the corner of his eye as the man's hands begin to superheat against his hair, glowing bright and brighter until it would've been blinding to anyone who wasn't dead, before yanking.

The magma disconnects from his head painlessly, and his hair is short once more. Plasmius tosses the excess off to the side with the rest, and sizzling fills the room as the lava sinks into the ground.

Plasmius' hands finds his face again, tucking his hair behind his ears before pulling him forward. Danny lets him move him bonelessly, fingers curling around his cloak as he sinks into the embrace. It's embarrassing how routine it is, how easy it is for Vlad to tuck him under his chin like a child. It's mortifying how easy it is for Danny to cling onto it.

He's terribly warm, and Danny is always so fucking cold. He doesn't know how to keep all the heat he gives off, and so he's always shivering. Vlad's hand smoothes down the nape of his neck, over his spine, and not for the first time, Danny wishes he was living with him instead.

He hates that he wants to live with Vlad instead of the Fentons. He hates that he can't. He hates that Vlad is so kind to him when they're not fighting. He hates that Vlad is the only other dead-alive person in the world and Danny can't go to him like he wants to. He hates that he wants to even despite it. He hates that Vlad insists on killing his foster parents. He hates that Vlad wants to avenge him. He hates that Vlad cares enough to want to. He hates-- he hates--

Danny breathes in thick, shaking, and hides. "I hate you."

Vlad rumbles low, laughing, and rubs circles between his shoulder blades soothingly. "I hate you too, Daniel."

He hates that Vlad knows what he means instead.

[gremlinmodetweeker]

Stars Whisper Prophecies into Waiting Wells

Okay I love cannibal king!König. He's so... I dunno. He's not baby, that's for sure, but... He's pretty weird, but he's not fucked up like kidnapper!König. He just... I think i's been a while since he's loved like this before. Also, reader learns something very important about our man, so look forward to that!

TW: cannibalism, can be interpreted as treating foreign cultures as lesser

Wordcount: 1k

Art from This Post

Story below the cut

Stars Whisper Prophecies into Waiting Wells

The stars above twinkled with jubilant delight. They swirled and danced, trapped in an eternal cosmic waltz in the heavens. How you wished to join them.

You looked to your side, where your king rested beside you. From the sounds of it, he was still awake, but you couldn’t be sure. You wondered what he was thinking.

He was a simple creature to you. He barely spoke, and when he did he roared or barked or spat. His voice was always a second option to his fist. He was quick to lash out at his people, slam them into their place and tear them apart both physically and literally. He was cruel, he was violent, and unfortunately, he was yours. Or were you his? A part of you balked at the notion that you were subservient to such a lesser creature. You could speak eloquently. You could read and write. You were a civilized human being. He was… He was nothing, you determined. He was nothing and he never would be. He was less man and more and more animal. You could never let yourself be subjugated by him.

But you didn’t run from him. You could have left many times by now, but you stayed by his side. You told yourself it was strictly for survival purposes, but you’d come to appreciate your cannibal king. Sometimes he disgusted you, but on nights like tonight, you could pretend he understood you.

“Thank you.”

Your voice was a whisper in the wind, washing away with the whistles of wind in the waves of long grass.

He grunted in response. You pretended it meant, ‘You’re welcome’.

You stayed by your king’s side, but you couldn’t help but feel a crushing weight in your chest. You thought about the three soldiers again. You hoped that they had each other. You wished you were with them instead of here, trapped by your king.

Said king raised one long arm into the sky. His hand was visible only by a wreath of moonlight encircling him, a loving embrace from the night. You tried to see what he was pointing out, but you knew nothing of the cosmos. Instead, you watched as he whined and dropped his hand back to his chest. When you turned to face him, you were stunned by how beautifully the moonlight glinted off his golden mask, ran up his stolen antlers to paint his crown in light. You thought he looked almost innocent in the moonshine. The thought startled you.

Without thinking, you stretched out your hand and gently ran three fingers along his bicep. He flinched under your touch, whimpered boyishly.

“I wish you understood me,” you sighed.

He whined from the back of his throat.

“I don’t even know your name.”

The man coughed something out earnestly and hit his chest. You snorted and turned away. As you rolled onto your back, you felt a hand grab your wrist and pull you back to face him. Your eyes widened in horror as he hit his chest once more and made those syllables again. You glanced down at his hand, then his silhouetted face. He said it again and hit his chest to emphasize his point.

You watched him, listened to him, but you couldn’t understand what he was saying. You could tell he was trying to tell you something, but what? Was he upset by something? He didn’t sound angry, he sounded sad. Why did he sound sad? What could he-

The thought flashed through your mind like lightening.

“König,” you whispered.

He nodded like an ecstatic puppy.

Your jaw dropped. You tried to search for anything to tell you otherwise, but nothing happened.

“Your name is König.”

He nodded again.

You pointed at your chest and quietly told him your name. He repeated it back with snarled vowels. You didn’t need to see his eyes to know how he looked at you.

You reached out, letting your fingers tangle with his in the grass between you both.

This man, this beast, he knew what you said. He understood you. All this time, all these curses and cries, he understood you. When you begged and pleaded for him to stop before, he’d understood. All this time, all the curses and cries you’d sent up to the heavens, all your nights of sobbing in the blankets, he bore witness to it all. He understood you the entire time. You’d yearned for a companion, but he was always there.

If you were someone else, maybe this would’ve been when you asked questions. This would have been when you asked how long this animal man understood your words. You might have asked how he was civilized enough for a name. Most importantly, you would have asked how a man cut off from the rest of the world understood your language, understood you. If you were a more worldly woman, maybe you would have asked how a cannibal king came to have a German word as a name.

But you were not such a person. You were starved, cold and afraid. You’d been alone for so long that you hung onto that one single world with both hands and dug your teeth into the meat of it. You never knew you needed one word so badly. It wasn’t even a word, it was a name. But that name was so much more than a name. It was all you needed to know that you weren’t alone.

At some point, you started weeping. You only noticed when dirty fingers brushed the tears away from your puffy eyes. He tried to pull away from you, but you held onto his hand and pressed your cheek into his palm. It didn’t matter that his hand swallowed your entire head, it didn’t matter that these hands smelled of iron and sweet rot.

Your tears washed his skin. His skin, rough and leathery, was like merino wool. His breath, rotten and putrid, brushed over you as he shuffled closer to your side. You let yourself be pressed into his dirty skin. You could feel his thick body hair matted with blood. You tried to gently untangle it in your fingers, comb him like a lost lamb. 

He was a monster, but for the first time, you finally saw the cannibal king as a man.

Konig Dump

Alternate Universes

[lulu101]

I’ve had multiple JD AUs in mind but the one I’m most fixated on writing rn is:

- “Hook”

Some info in this AU, trolls can reproduce an egg by asexual reproduction or two trolls have strong feelings for each other that it can manifest through an egg

Another thing to add, the trolls had managed to escape from Bergen Town before Brozone split up, and the Family Harmony was meant to be their first concert in the new Troll village as a way to celebrate

What changes is that once their Grandma’s taken by the Chef and Branch turns grey, King Peppy decides they need to relocate once again, which none of the brother were aware of (I’ll get in detail with Viva and Clay’s situation later)

While exploring the Neverglade Forest and having an egg, he also finds baby Rhonda

The egg reminds him of his brothers, especially Bitty B, and wanting his egg to grow up with his family, he decides to head back

Something goes wrong though and while severely injured, stumbles near the Rock Trolls, where King Thrash and toddler Barb were on a stroll of sorts

Despite clearly being a pop troll, King Thrash does wish to see egg orphaned so he does his best to save JD

Unfortunately, his injuries were too severe and the doctors note that him being able to get close to the Rock Volcano from the Neverglades was a miracle

The egg does hatch and JD gets to hold him before his death but isn’t able to slip out the name he wanted for him (Branch actually knows as JD had once told him as a baby what he would name his children if he had any but his memory won’t be jogged until the end of the fic)

Barb is the one who names him, which is Hook

Hook is then raised by the Rock Trolls, who don’t treat him any differently as he was basically one of them

Rhonda is raised by them as well, her being Hook’s and Barb’s “secret” hideout

Hook helps Barb in World Tour and meets Poppy when she’s captured, who is shocked to meet him as he’s nearly identical to JD from Brozone

He briefly explains that he had been raised by the Rock Trolls, he has no loyalty to the Pop Trolls and is doing it because he feels it’s the least he can do for Barb

Branch doesn’t meet him until after the strings are ripped and every genre gets their color back

Think of it like the scene from Secret of the Wings where Tinker Bell meets Periwinkle, with Branch seeing a familiar silhouette and calling out “John Dory?”

King Thrash has a strong reaction to that name (he had forgotten his name, only knowing he was named after a fish), which prompts Barb and Hook to turn around, Branch going through a mix of emotions at seeing someone who looks identical to JD standing right before him

Cue Branch starting to tear up and growling in frustration/hurt when Hook gets defensive over King Thrash while asking who John Dory is

I already have ideas for Band Together but I feel like I should save them until I’m done with this first part first (there’s define a lot of angst)

Part 2

[starsfic]

Prompt (if taking them] Lady Iron Fan decides to show that she reciprocated Demon Bull King's interest by courtnapping him. The Brotherhood (especially Azure Luon) thinks its a normal kidnapping/act of war.

"You know, my brothers will think this is an act of war."

"Oh, really?" The beautiful woman hummed, setting down the jug and passing over the goblet of wine. DBK was almost charmed, except for the fact that he was still tied to his chair and couldn't pick it up.

No, actually, he was charmed. He had always imagined that he would be the one doing this, excluding the tying to a chair. That was just rude.

"Do you think this is an act of war?" Princess Iron Fan said, drawing his attention back. It wasn't hard, considering the fact that she was a gorgeous woman, even more beautiful when she was committing acts of violence.

"I mean, you do have the wrong atmosphere for such a thing." The room was set up with red and lavender furniture and soft candles. A delicious feast had been laid out, and the pink dress she wore was long and flowing, not meant for battle. "But you could be trying to lower my guard with that eyesore of a dress."

Her smile disappeared. "What's wrong with my dress."

Oh no. "I mean, nothing's wrong! I just think you would look good in purple- no, no. That would be wrong. That would dull your eyes." DBK leaned his face up, away from her furrowed brows and the droop of her lips, to think. "My friend, the Six-Eared Macaque, once gave this long lecture about costume design. The color of the fabric is important when accenting features...uh..." To be fair, DBK had kinda tuned out in the middle and most of that lecture had been aimed at Peng, who had ruined a very nice bolt of fabric Wukong had gotten Macaque as a gift. "Your eyes are a wonderful shade of amber and you have gorgeous dark curls..."

"Really?" The anger had faded from her voice now. "What do you think of them?"

"I mean, gold would accent your everything very nicely since it would match your eyes." DBK tried to think of what color would match her best, but now he was thinking of her just in gold jewelry, which was a very nice thought but very distracting. "But your hair is enough of a draw of its own. It would just need a statement piece. Anything else would drown out your beauty in gaudiness- oh! Red! That is what you would look best in-"

A soft laugh broke through his thoughts. DBK looked down to see the princess cover her mouth, but not enough to hide a beautiful smile. When her giggles came to an end, she looked up. "You are very charming, your Majesty. Are you like this to every girl you meet?"

"No. I mean, I've only ever been like that with Wukong, and he was less charmed."

Iron Fan shrugged. "I can't blame you for trying. He's very pretty."

"So are you."

She leaned against the table and smiled at him. "So are you. By the way, your brothers are trying to break down the door."

DBK blinked. Oh yeah. "Should I go talk to them so we can have dinner in peace?"

"No," Iron Fan's magic hummed, and then she had her distinct fan in hand. "It will give me a chance to change. I have a very lovely red dress in my trunk."

He couldn't wait.

[cacophony-eg]

Chapter 17 of Moon Knight and Sun King is NOW UP!

Read on =

AO3

Wattpad

Summary: M’Lady’s group and Sunset trio’s group sit down with their noodles and start their Q&A. MK learns how gold vision works, you get called villainous, Red’s fire powers have you nervous about triggering your apartment's sprinklers, Macaque is being his annoying but strangely helpful self. While Moon and Samadhi are mostly enjoying their noodles while listening to the groups go back and forth.

Part 1

Part 16

[larluce]

Merlin in my Merthur Fic "Protecting the Dragonlord’s son"

Merlin: I confess I'm a sorcerer in front all the cavalry and they don't believe. I confess to Uther that I kissed his son and he doesn't believe me. Nobody believes me! 😭 I could literally say I killed someone-which I did-and no one would believe me!😫 What do I have to do, uh? Cut some bandit's head off and bring it in a silver plate before their eyes!😤

Gaius: That's... oddly especific. You're not planning on doing that, are you?

Merlin: NO!

Gaius: Good to know.