#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."

[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. 🖤

[hirokosoul]

[falling-star-cygnus]

...i've gotten four asks about this sorta thing -> which i'm super grateful for!! thank y'all so much for wanting to see more of my writing!!

i've just sort of been putting these specific ones off until i felt i could adequately display it and even now I feel iffy about the characterization, but I really didn't want to seem like i ignoring y'all either :( -> Masterlist

i have some semblance of a plot now, so... i sincerely hope you all enjoy? this might be the push i need to get out of my funk, and i put in the very best effort for all of you!!

"You were a WHAT?"

"Is now really the time to be surprised!?"

The Ethereal- they kinda looked like one the Ballerina Twins actually, if the Ballerina Twins had galactic glitchy orbs for heads and rainbow glowy nervous systems- warbles at them impatiently. Anby's barely keeping them at bay with her sword.

It's practically a toothpick compared to the giant weapon Thanatos was wielding... They raise their shield-

Billy fires.

It doesn't land, of course it doesn't, but the smaller Demara doesn't get bludgeoned either so the android counts it as a win.

Especially when the bullet ricochets off the sign previously behind the larger than necessary Ethereal and back towards him. Billy tilts his head left just in time to miss it, and pivots on his heel when Thanatos shrieks and flails back. Bullseye.

"It's showtime!" he announces, and lines The Girls up somewhere where their jaw would be. Only about six of the bullets- 12 in total, the android was counting- actually hit before they teleport away again.

Billy reloads.

None of them, except the Boss, used the right typing to properly take Thanatos on.. but there was little to be done until they could carve an escape route out.

The Hares' ready their weapons, turning in slow circles as they wait for Thanatos to appear again. Were they gone..? He knew better than to assume they were, of course, but-

"Billy- behind you!" Nekomata points; he whirls around.

And takes a blade to the head.

There's not much to say for this part, aside from pointing out how cliche and underhanded it was to get him from behind like this, but bits and pieces float around to the surface with just enough clarity to be worth mentioning.

The pavement cracking under the android's weight.

Sparks fluttering out of the cleaved out gash.

Thin oil leaking out of his head like a halo.

Isolation.

Billy stands in the inky abyss of his own mind. His memories- his memories of the Hares'- play out before him like a movie: braiding Anby's hair, putting Nicole's into pigtails, napping in the sun with Nekomata on his chest, warmth-

Fighting as a team, Anby helping him up, Nicole calling his name, the restaurant they all went to after successful raids, fighting alone, Being alone in that truck bed, sand clogging up his joints.

Chill.

The memories fade away, leaving the android with the stilted thought of:

Don't- take them.. from me.

Nothing.

Billy Kid wakes up, and points the nearest weapon- a gun, by the feel of it- at their forehead. The hands reaching for him still, too pale to be anybody from the Sons.

Calloused enough to be Caesar's, though, so they must be some form of blade user. Electric, if the Lichtenburg scars on their finger tips have any weight to them.

The android sits up, ignoring the stab of pain behind his right video processer. He could deal with that later, after figuring out where the actual hell he was. And dealing with whoever it was that moved him.

They're small, surprisingly so, but Lucy and Piper were also small so that didn't exactly mean anything of value. Brilliant white hair, amber eyes, and green and black tech wear.

And a backpack packed with enough thrumming energy to kill the Dead-End Butcher.

Definitely a threat.

Billy Kid doesn't lower the gun, even as he's sure the human's fleshy arms were getting tired of being raised. Or maybe they weren't. He knows their type, he's cut from the same cloth himself.

A weapon.

"Billy, d-"

"How do you know my name," he interrupts, praying to a god he didn't believe in that he wouldn't have to shoot someone so small, "and why are you only using part of it."

He was Billy Kid, the feared enforcer of the outer ring. The only people that occasionally just called him Billy were the other Sons of Calydon. Not strangers.

"We work together," his potential captor calmly says, lowering their hands by their sides, "We're friends. Partners in crime."

"The hell we are."

"We are," they insist.

He doesn't buy it. Billy Kid didn't have friends, he was an android. A weapon and tool for whoever his boss was. Big Sis, the drifters, whoever had him before that.

He cared about them all, more than he should considering what he was made for, but he wasn't built to receive that kind of care in return. Pain spikes behind his processer again, and his free hand instinctively moves to grasp at it.

The stranger jolts forward as the gun dips.

Billy Kid shoots on instinct, even as something like worry[?] coils the wires in his lower torso too tight. There's a click, but in the end nothing but dry fire. And relief[?]

Billy Kid curses at the opening he's provided, and braces himself for the inevitable attack. He doesn't know where the other gun was- because there had to be one, Burnice only ever made things in pairs- and..

Why did he assume Burnice made these...?

Small hands, calloused and scarred, gently- why was he being treated gently- bat his hand away from his video processor. The empty gun is sandwiched between them.

More carefully than he deserves for shooting at them, the stranger inspects something on his face, and the android swings his lanky legs over the side of- it looks like a cot[?] to make it easier for them.

"You took a bad hit to the head," they inform his forehead, only pulling away when Billy Kid starts to get twitchy at the proximity, "an Ionized - Thanatos. It most likely messed with your memory bank."

"Sounds convenient," he scoffs, lowering the gun to his side, "Most likely messed with my memory bank?"

"It definitely did, we were friends," the stranger presses, strangely insistent, "What's the last thing you remember?"

They take off their backpack as the android thinks back on it. Whether to prove they weren't a threat or gain his trust to attack later, he wasn't sure.

What he was sure of was the fact that the harder he thought about it the harder his head pounded. Everything dating up to the past year and six months was just- blank. Corrupted files that spat static and made him want to lie down for a while.

More than that, he felt... lonely, for some reason. Like a big chunk had been carved from his sternum and left to burn in front of him.

"Billy?"

"I don't remember you."

And oh. He'd take it right back if it meant that look never crossed their face again.

It's barely there for a second, but it's a look of pure hurt. Hurt that makes something close to guilt roar where his mechanical heart sat. He never wanted this stranger to look at him like that again.

He never wanted anyone to look at him like that, to be honest. Fighting was fun- it was what he was built for- and the thrill was something that almost nothing could replicate- but...

Flashes- memories- of Lucy and Piper flit through his head, images and phantoms of them tucked into his sides on warm days and colder nights. A rough hand carding through his hair.

...being sent.. off?

“I’m-”

The door cuts him off with a bang!

"What's taking so long!? Is he ok?"

"Nicole! Anby told us to wait-"

Long pink hair and calculating green eyes bully their way into the room. Something in his programming wants to stand at attention all of a sudden...

The stranger- the white-haired stranger, because now there were three- moves away from the confused android. It looks like they want to say something but apparently thinks better of it and turns towards Billy Kid.

"I don't think I should be the one to say it," they- the thiren said her name was Anby[?]- announce, with all the enthusiasm of a dry rock. Which seems to be her MO, endearingly enough. Endearingly?

The pink haired- Nicole puts her hands on her hips.

"Say what?" she demands, before turning her critical gaze onto the android, "Are you ok or not, Billy?"

Again, shortening my name... Who are these people?

"All systems are operational," he reports anyway, because despite her brash words she sounds worried, "Except my memory banks, apparently."

Side-eye.

Anby's nose just barely scrunches at his tone.

"What do you mean your memory banks?" Nicole prompts, gaze flicking between the two.

"He doesn't remember us."

The Cunning Hares freeze. Silence rules the small space they've tucked themselves into- which... kinda looks like a garage? A nice garage compared to whatever you'd find in the Outer Ring.

Much too nice to be anywhere close to the Outer Ring.

"Where did you take me?"

Nobody answers for a good while.

Until the thiren lets slip:

"...it's so weird to hear you talk like that.."

She shudders from her fluffy ears tips to the sleek finishes of her tails. Were they prosthetics? Why were they blue at the at the base-?

What was wrong with the way he talked?

And why didn't she answer his question-

"Not- not in a bad way!" the thiren is hasty to tack on, "you just... you don't sound happy anymore.."

...happy? He wasn't built to sound happy. He wasn't even supposed to talk much outside status reports and communications. Although- sure, the android often broke that somewhat unspoken rule when Piper and Lucy needed a bit more help to drift off at night, or when Burnice needed someone to bounce a new design off of, or if Lighter was talking about something that happened while he was out in shops, or-

...you got the idea. Caesar hadn't explicitly banned him from talking with the other Sons, not by a long shot, he just- didn't want to push it.

The silence surrounding the ragtag four stretches into something distinctly uncomfortable.

"That.. aside," Nicole- who he assumes is the Boss- eventually starts, "We.. ahem. We got your wound patched up just fine, but... we ended up needing some help to get you back here."

Billy Kid tilts his head.

It made sense, of course, he was an android made of reinforced metal. And while he didn't doubt the strength of these people- especially Anby- he had an itching feeling that their strength was.... not particularly rooted in the weight-lifting sense.

So who-?

"Well. This isn't exactly the reunion I was hoping for."

....there was no way.

Caesar, the Big Sis of the Sons of Calydon herself, walks through the- admittedly abused looking door. Billy Kid shoots to his feet.

And severely underestimates the refractory period required following the repair of a head wound. He stumbles.

A sturdy arm catches his middle with ease.

"Easy, Kid," Caesar reprimands, hauling him back to his feet, "There's no reason to do that, I'm not your boss anymore."

Her words are oddly quiet, as if the other three in the room weren't supposed to hear. Big Sis had always been good at that. Quietly being reassuring without being coddling.

That achingly hollow feeling returns.

From behind Caesar's large frame, he can see the Hares' lower their hands slowly. Their faces are oddly stormy..

Anby bullies her way between them.

"Quite the team you've found yourself, by the way," Caesar continues as if she hadn't, "I'd ask you to fill me in, but.."

...right. Her pale eyes lock onto his, and-

She gives him a single nod of approval. Something loosens in his wiring.

"You'll be alright, Kid."

"Of course he will." Anby cuts in, squaring her small shoulders, "Even if we have to remake all the memories he lost, Billy will always be a member of the Cunning Hares."

And-

Billy finally believes it.

[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

[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

[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

[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.

[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.

[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.

[a0wz]

The Butcher's Son Self-Assignment

TKM Spoilers, set directly after Neil found out about what happened to Andrew while he was at Easthaven Hospital for rehab.

Content Warning: torture, insinuation of assault, kidnapping, racism

Neil felt a fire rise in his chest. Of all the stupid thing's he's done, believing Riko would keep his word was the most egregious. In silence, Neil went back to his room but unable to respond when Matt asked if thing's were alright. Too much was going through the striker's mind as he found his phone on the charger. Neil's father spoke of making him an apprentice, it was his mother's love and borderline paranoia that kept him from turning into the monster they spend his entire life running away from. He disobeyed and betrayed all that she had sacrificed just to play Exy for a year. Now, he would continue to betray her in the worse way possible.

The text to Wymack was short and did little as a heads up.

You: I'll be back in 3 days.

The response was immediate;

Coach W: THE FUCK YOU WILL

But Neil's vision was merely a haze of what was around him. All Nathanial wanted to see was the inside of Dr. Proust's ribcage, warm and drenched in blood. Nathanial's finger twitched at the thought of such a sensation, plucking shards of bone from the wedges of a hammer. He almost couldn't hear Matt's phone ringing as he rushed out the door. A high laugh escaped between his gritted teeth, it was hysterical to him that he was running towards, and not away, from his first kill as the Butcher's son.

He disappeared form the fox tower to make his way across highways in the dead of night to reach Easthaven Hospital. It was as simple as waiting for the doctor to come in the next morning. The anger Nathanial felt against himself kept his nerves from subsiding. Nearly manic with energy the Butcher's son had a day to prepare, a day to execute, and a day to cover his track further.

Walmart had everything he needed for cheap, but he jogged around the entire city to different locations to split up his purchases. Nathanial knew to grab some clothes and shoes that didn't fit to make himself appear as a different, much larger body type. He knew hydrogen peroxide and sponges would get the blood stains out of most materials. He knew a generic air freshener and a wide brush to fake vacuum patterns along the carpet would make it look as though custodial came by through the night. He knew to get a disposable camera to keep track of where everything was in the office before the struggle.

It was easy enough to get Dr. Proust personal phone number, home address, and the name of his house maid. It was easy enough to find a dead bird in the park. It was easy enough to wait until the doctor came in the next morning so coworkers could watch as he willingly left work in the middle of the day due to a 'personal emergency'. It was easy enough to make the call pretending to be a police officer investigating that maid's suicide which left a positive pregnancy test and note addressed to him by name. It was easy enough to knock out the security camera in the parking lot by chucking a dead bird at it just before dawn. It was easy enough to have drained the oil from his car. It was easy enough to watch his engine blow out in the middle of the road and him getting out red-faced and stomping.

"Shit dude, hey I have a shop not too far form here I can get you to were you need to go in no time!" A hooded figure with his hands in his pockets shouted from across the street.

"I truly don't have the time for this crap, I'll just call a cab -uh, thanks for the offer though." Dr. Proust waved off the hooded figure and turned his back to dial something in his phone.

The hooded figure crossed the street and pointed just a block away, not lifting his head enough for Dr. Proust to see his face clearly, "I can have someone give you a ride if you let us rotate your tires on top of checking out the engine bust."

Dr. Proust rolled his eyes and sighed, "Fine, fine, but I better not see a scratch on my car when your done and no messing with the headlights I know one is out and I've never met an maraca shaking alien who could change them right." Dr. Proust didn't make it half the block before being pulled into a dark alleyway. A wash cloth damp with chloroform muzzled his shouts and before he could remember why he was out of his office in the first place, the world went to black.

Nathanial brought Dr. Proust to an abandoned shed a few miles out from a walking trail. The lanky heap was bound in cables and duck tape. The blaze-haired Fox prowled around his prey, watching as he groaned and twitched in confusion. Nathanial spent some time examining the doctor's hands. Wrinkled with age and sun-spotted, Nathanial doubted Andrew was his only victim. The Butcher's son would be doing many people a favor by getting rid of such a monstrous bug. Nathanial's teeth ground as he sneered, almost involuntarily, at the sight of it. All he went through thinking Andrew was safe, instead this creature violated the only person he's ever trusted since his mother's death. The hands, that's were he'll start, dissecting them like he was taught to dissect and destroy minds.

Dr. Proust woke to the feeling of skin peeling form the back of his hand. He writhed in pain, eyes rolling round the room without truly seeing. Nathanial had redone the binds to wrap around his forearms to keep him still while also exposing enough flesh to work with. Is glassier-colored eyes looked on with curiosity as he prodded and poked the now exposed veins and muscles surrounding small bones. Nathanial didn't mind the trembling or desperate muffles of what he assumed were bargaining pitches. He knew no amount of money could correct what he had done to Andrew and so many others. Not even blood could pay them back for their trauma. Despite this, Nathanial looked into the doctor's brown eyes and smiled. A smile Andrew couldn't help but wear to bury a deep anguish.

Within the day Dr. Proust was slowly dismembered alive.

After the initial rounds of argument between the Foxes, Nicky had the news broadcast on blast incase something came up about Neil while he was gone. Dan thought they should put out a missing person report but Kevin spoke up against it. Instead they watched the news, correctly guised whatever Neil was up to would be picked up on, with or without his name being mentioned. On day two, Dr. Proust was reported missing after leaving work at his own free will. His car was found abandoned width the engine blown out due to an empty oil tank. Unfortunately, a bird had smashed the camera that would have recorded any tampering with the doctor's vehicle.

When the Foxes brought the news to Wymack, he raised his hands and said, "I don't see how nay of this has to do with us unless there's a warrant involved." Uneasily, the Foxes waited another day for their striker to return. When he did, smiling as if nothing had ever happened, Andrew smacked him in the back of the head and did little to pretend he wasn't targeting Niels ancles during practice. Matt tried to tell Andrew to knock it off, but Neil chuckled and said it's Andrew's special way of saying thank you. The goalkeeper's glove was thick with padding and made a prominent, very visible middle finger.

[hirokosoul]

me: having lots of homework for Monday and having to learn the cranial nerves for bio or else i'm going to have my ass kicked

also me: thirsting over men with long hair, especially Aragorn😭❤️ and spending more than 4 hours on this app (reading fanfics ofc😭)

*if you have aragorn×reader ff recommendations please let me know i'm desperate i think i've read all of them

*gif not mine, i just wanted to get your attention ;))

[grondds-and-roses]

A million bad scenarios played repeatedly inside Gimli's head. Some were worse than others, some were better but they all had the same gut wrenching outcome. A hobbit buried six feet underground, two others sobbing in each other's arms and losing the trust of the one in minas Tirith.

Gimli shook his head. He tried to think more positively, but a deep fear had lodged itself into his heart when he discovered that the young hobbit wasn't with his cousin and Sam and nagging Aragorn and Gandalf about their health. From the corner of his eye, he saw a dead troll and as he turned to look at it, he wondered if the one who slayed it was still among them and would live to tell the tale.

And that was when he saw it. A hairy foot underneath the troll's corpse.

A yell escaped his throat as he ran to the troll, a cry for legolas' help as he somehow managed to get the troll off the hobbit underneath it.

And then everything went still. He held his breath, his heart probably stopped for a moment too. His only thought was a never ending string of no no no no no as he stared down at the quiet, still hobbit whose sword was still in his hand. He dare not touch him, because he knew what he would find. Not a single shallow breath or even a flutter of a heartbeat.

"He is still breathing." Legolas' relieved voice disturbed the unnerving stillness and everything started moving again as gimli fell on his knees beside the hobbit, breathing deeply as if a huge weight was just lifted off of him.

"Come on. We need to get him to Aragorn now if we want to know how he got himself under a troll." He heard Legolas say as the elf started to pick up the hobbit.

"No," Gimli said, maybe a bit too loudly judging from his friend's expression. "No, no I will take him."

The next few hours were all a blur as the healers treated Pippin, discovering a new hurt with each removed piece of armour, his cries joining those of the wounded men around him.

At last Pippin lay quietly in a small cot in one of the tents with Gimli, whose body was now suffering the consequences of carrying a troll all by himself, and Legolas, who was urging Gimli to rest. But Gimli couldn't rest, at least not yet, as he started noticing the dried troll's blood under Pippin's nails and behind his ears.

"How about we make a deal?" Gimli told Legolas. "If you bring me a clean cloth and some water, I will sleep for as long as you wish me to."

As Legolas went to fetch Gimli's desired items, the dwarf ran his fingers gently through the hobbit's hair.

"Now we are going to get you all nice and clean. I know it isn't a proper bath, but you can get one as soon as you get better, and you have to get better for I have promised your cousin that I will take care of you and bring you back to him and a dwarf never breaks a promise. You don't want me to go around breaking my promises now, do you?"

It might have been a trick of the candlelight, but Gimli willed himself to believe that a smile flickered on Pippin's lips