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[lesbicosmos]

day 3 of @painlandweek !!

day 3 prompt: love confession/first kiss

summary:

charles is slowly coming to realise the true nature of his feelings for edwin, but he hasn't told him yet, out of fear edwin has always moved on. luckily, niko is there to reassure him how utterly wrong he is

notes:

title from my love mine all mine my mitski <33

also on ao3!!

nothing in the world belongs to me but my love, mine all mine

The agency barely had a chance to rest after everything went down in Port Townsend before they were straight back to taking on new clients and solving new cases. It would have been nice to have some time to think and reflect on everything they’d been through, but Charles and Edwin were both happier they were back to their usual routine. Visiting America was fun - when they weren’t in peril, at least – but they’d missed London, missed the comfortable homely feeling of returning to their office after every case.

Their new normal was still different from the old normal, of course. Now, it wasn’t just the two of them – they had Crystal and Niko, too. They’d moved to London after Niko had recovered from what happened to her fighting Esther, and they were both now fully fledged members of the agency. Even Jenny had moved across the pond with them; she’d wanted a new start after the whole psycho-date-murder thing and then the crazy-witch-blew-up-the-family-business-and-tried-to-kill-her-tenants thing. Part of the reason she moved was also because she had grown too fond of Crystal and Niko to let them go – not that she’d ever admit to that, of course. Then there was the Night Nurse, who popped in every few days to check they were working. She pretended not to like the job, or the boys, but they could both tell she was becoming attached.

Their latest case was strange – not so much in itself, but for the group. It was the first case they’d done with only three detectives, since Crystal was busy. She was off attempting to fix things with an old friend, who she had discovered through her memory-marbles that she had hurt whilst under David’s control. The others had offered to go with her for support, but she insisted she did it on her own. She’d been doing it a lot; going off alone to try and make amends with her past. She’d only seen her parents once, though, in the two months since moving to London. It hadn’t exactly ended well: she’d let all her anger out at them, screaming at them for never even noticing that their daughter had been missing for weeks. They hadn’t even apologised, so Crystal just left. She wanted to fix things with them, she really did. But she was hoping for them to reach out to her, to apologise, to try. It hadn’t happened yet, so she’d moved on.

Luckily, this specific case didn’t seem to be one that required Crystal’s abilities. Of course, her presence would have been preferable – it felt like a part of them was missing without her now - but they could still get the job done while she was away. The client herself, a woman named Cordelia, wasn’t actually a ghost – she was alive, able to see ghosts after a near death experience as a child. She had fallen from a treehouse in her garden, which left her with such traumatic injuries she had to have an arm amputated (Edwin had spent several minutes enthusiastically learning about her prosthetic, enthralled by the advancements in modern bionic technology).

She had brought them the case of her wife Faye, who had died of a long-term illness a few months prior. Faye hadn’t been ready to move on – they had only been married a year, she thought they would have so much time left – so she ran from Death. Cordelia had joined her, never wanting to leave her side. They’d settled near London after travelling from Scotland, and had found a new life – or, afterlife in Faye’s case – together. They were happy.

At least, they had been until they had crossed paths with a mage who cursed Faye to be stuck in the most basic form a ghost could take – a bright white orb. Usually, a ghost would take that form after immense stress to recover their energy, but could always willingly turn back. Faye, however, didn’t have that freedom. She was truly stuck. She had, however, figured out how to possess their TV screen, and used it to communicate with Cordelia.

If it had been magic that put her in that position, it would require magic to reverse the effects. Edwin knew this, and told Cordelia such. They had arranged to visit their house in two days, after the three of them had done their research and formed a plan. Cordelia had given Niko her phone number in case they needed any more information, and then left the office.

Charles watched as Edwin spent the next 48 hours with his head stuck in books, trying to find one page he knew existed in at least one of the many in their collection. Charles knew this was going to be a case that relied almost entirely upon Edwin’s arcane knowledge, so left him to it. He did, however, keep finding himself zoning out watching the other boy. He had always been somewhat enamoured by the way Edwin got so hyper-focused on his books. Over the years, he’d memorised his mannerisms: the way his index finger would repeatedly tap the book’s cover when he got impatient about finding one particular spell or piece of information; the crease between his eyebrows when he didn’t quite understand what he was reading; the delighted smile of accomplishment that would appear when he found what he was looking for. Charles was someone who got bored very easily, but he found himself thinking he could watch Edwin just doing his thing forever. That feeling had only gotten stronger since he had realised that his feelings for Edwin might be more complex than just ‘best mates’, and that they might have been that way almost the entire time they’d known each other without either of them quite realising it.

“I’ve got it!” Edwin said suddenly, that relieved and proud smile plastered across his face.

“Brills!” Charles replied, re-associating with the real world.

As it turned out, Edwin only needed to make a potion and say an incantation for the curse to be broken. Within twelve hours of figuring it out, Charles, Edwin and Niko were standing in Cordelia and Faye’s living room. Cordelia was sitting out on the bench in the garden as they waited for Edwin to be ready, Faye’s orb form perched on her shoulder.

Niko and Charles stood in the doorway of the living room as Edwin worked. He was wearing those many-lensed goggles that Charles had begun to find oddly endearing, despite having laughed at them for several minutes the first time he used them. He was pouring some strange glowing liquids together, biting his lip slightly in concentration. Charles couldn’t help but stare at him. Edwin’s lips had been on his mind a lot lately, and he still hadn’t grown quite used to the realisation that he might just be in love with his best friend. It was especially unbelievable since he knew Edwin was in love with him too. Or at least, he had been a few months ago. He could have gotten over it now for all Charles knew, could have taken what Charles said on those stairs at face value and simply accepted that his feelings would never be reciprocated. That was the primary reason Charles hadn’t told him yet. He was scared he was too late.

He kept watching Edwin work, watched him recite the Latin incantation over and over under his breath, ensuring he was getting the pronunciation exactly correct. He watched Edwin’s hands as he picked up the tweezers, grabbing a tiny leaf of some kind and dropping it into the vial. Along with everything about the rest of him, his hands were another thing Charles couldn’t stop thinking about lately. He so desperately wanted to hold them, wanted to feel them sliding up his arms, holding his waist, cupping his jaw-

Charles’s thoughts were cut off when his view of Edwin was disturbed by a pink-nailed hand snapping in front of his face.

“Charles! Are you okay?”

“Huh?” Charles shook his head, turning to Niko.

Had she been talking to him the whole time? If she had been, she showed no signs of annoyance; only smiled at him in a sly, almost knowing way.

“I know that look,” she said confidently.

“What?” Charles chuckled nervously.

“Edwin, Charles and I will be right back,” she said, turning to Edwin, and before either ghost could argue, Charles felt a hand grab his elbow and drag him out into the hallway.

“What was that for?” he asked when she let his arm go.

“I think I know what’s going on.”

“What do you mean?”

“You really think you’re subtle with your staring, huh?” she giggled.

Shit. Was he being that obvious? Had Edwin noticed? No, he was too busy working. Wasn’t he? What if he wasn’t?

“You should tell him,” she said.

“I can’t,” Charles stammered.

“Why not? You already know he feels the same.”

“What if he doesn’t anymore, though? What if he’s like...moved on?”

“Charles, if there’s one thing I can tell you about Edwin, it’s that that is literally impossible. I think he’d still be in love with you in a century, even if you didn’t feel the same.”

“Really?”

“Yes. I’m not saying you have to tell him, like, right now, but I think you should soon. If you’re sure about how you feel, that is.”

She gave him a look that said she already knew the answer to that.

“Oh. I definitely am.”

He’d spent the last three months trying to figure out if he was sure. And he was. He still didn’t quite know how to tell the difference between loving someone and being in love with them, but if he wasn’t in love with Edwin, then who else? Who else could there possibly be that he could love as much as he did him? There were other things he knew for sure in his heart:

That Edwin Payne was the best person he knew, and that he loved him more than anyone in the world

That he would do anything to keep him safe and happy,

That he literally could not imagine his afterlife without him

That he really, really wanted to kiss him.

Surely that had to be enough? They could figure the rest out as they went along.

“Yeah, I had kinda figured that by the way you were watching him making that potion like he was the prettiest thing in the world,” Niko smiled.

That’s because I think he might be, Charles thought, but didn’t say that out loud. Maybe he’d tell Edwin himself that part one day.

Charles thought Niko must have some kind of magical powers of her own, because within one short conversation with her, he had gone from convinced Edwin had moved on from him to desperate to confess everything. Maybe it was just Niko in general, or maybe it was because he knew how close she and Edwin had become, how comfortable he had been around her. Charles may have been looking at the situation through tinted glasses, but Niko would know the truth. If she was convinced Edwin still felt the same way for him, then he believed her. He loved her for that. Not only for being someone Edwin could open up to and trust, but for being someone he could, too. She just had something about her that made her amazing, and everyone around her felt it. Charles was so grateful to have met her.

“I’m gonna tell him tonight,” Charles stated.

Niko let out a noise that was quite possibly a squeal, and jumped forward to hug him. He hugged back, laughing.

“Oh my god! I’m so excited!”

“Shhh,” Charles shushed her, still smiling. “Don’t want him to know beforehand do I?”

“Oh, of course,” Niko dropped her voice to a low whisper.

“Are you two finished out there?” Edwin called from the living room. “I think we’re ready.”

Charles and Niko walked back into the room, both trying to hide their smiles. Edwin’s glasses were on his head as he brandished the finished potion – a tiny orange vial.

“We simply pour this over Faye, I’ll recite the incantation, and it should return her to her humanoid form.”

“Aces!"

“I’ll go get them,” Niko said, opening the door to the garden and walking out.

When they returned, Cordelia sat on the sofa with Faye in her hands as Edwin explained what was going to happen.

“Ready?” he asked.

“Yep,” Cordelia replied, and Faye seemed to grow brighter for a second in response.

Edwin knelt in front of them, shaking the vial one last time before pulling the cork from it. He slowly poured it over Faye and began reciting the incantation in perfect Latin. Charles and Niko watched on in awe.

After the third recital, something started happening. Faye began to glow brighter and brighter until everyone in the room had to look away. When they looked back, the orb was gone and a woman had taken its place, laying across Cordelia’s lap.

“Oh, you’re back!” Cordelia said, taking Faye’s face in her hands and kissing her soundly.

Charles couldn’t help but turn his eyes back to Edwin, picturing themselves in their position – Charles on Edwin’s lap, Edwin’s hand softly cupping his cheek as they kissed. He forced himself out of the moment.

“I’m okay,” Faye replied, manoeuvring herself until she was sitting beside Cordelia instead of on top of her. “Thank you so much,” she said to all three of them, taking Cordelia’s hand in her own.

“Don’t thank us, this one was all Edwin.”

Edwin looked at them, smiling proudly.

“It was no problem, really. That’s what we’re here for.”

“Really, though, thank you. I don’t know what we’d have done without you.”

“Well, I’m just happy we could help,” said Edwin.

With that, the three of them said goodbye to Faye and Cordelia, and headed back to the office with the satisfaction of a case successfully closed.

When they returned to the office, the boys immediately got comfortable, taking off their jackets and relaxing. Edwin sat on the sofa and took out his notebook to finish the case notes, while Charles perched on the edge of the desk. Niko, however, stayed near the door, her pink coat still on.

“Are you not staying, Niko?” Edwin asked.

“No, sorry. I uh…” she realised she hadn’t thought of an excuse to get out of their way. “Crystal… she told me to meet her in town. I think we’re going to grab food so, I’d better go.”

“Ah, I see. Well, tell Crystal we said hello. Enjoy your evening.”

“You too,” she smirked, giving Charles a wink before turning and leaving the office.

Charles rolled his eyes, exhaling slowly to try and keep the nerves at bay. Evidently, he also exhaled loudly, as Edwin stopped writing and pointed it out.

“Are you alright, Charles? You’ve seemed even more restless than usual since we closed the case.”

“Yeah, I’m fine mate,” Charles replied, unconvincingly.

“Are you sure?”

Charles opened his mouth to lie, but stopped himself. “No, actually.”

Edwin sat up straighter.

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing. Nothing’s wrong, it’s just… okay, I hadn’t actually figured out how to say this.”

“Well, please tell me once you’ve articulated your thoughts. Whatever it is, you know I am always here to listen.”

Edwin opened the notebook again to continue writing while Charles thought, but it turned out he really didn’t need that long.

“I think I’ve figured out what it means,” he blurted.

Edwin put the notebook fully down beside him, looking up at Charles. That signature confused crease was appearing between his eyebrows again, Charles noted.

“I’m afraid you might have to be more specific than that.”

“My feelings. The rest. I think I’ve figured out what it means.”

Edwin stood up, taking a step towards Charles.

“Charles…” he said quietly.

“Stop. I know what you’re gonna say. I know you’re gonna think I’m just doing this to make you happy because that’s what I always do but I’m not. This is too important to both of us for it to be something I just pretend to go along with. I mean it. I’ve figured it out, I don’t know how it took me so bloody long, but I think I’m sure now.”

“And what exactly is it you’re so sure of?” Edwin’s voice was slightly shaky.

“I do love you. In the same way you love me. Everything I said on those steps is true, and the more I’ve been thinking about it, the more they just point to the obvious. People don’t go to Hell without even making a plan first for someone who’s just a best mate. But I didn’t even think twice before I did it for you.”

“Charles…” Edwin stepped closer.

“I think I just didn’t really think it was an option ‘til you said it and now I’ve been thinking too much about it and how much I always want to be next to you and how much I always want to watch you just doing your nerdy thing and how much I really wanna kiss you and-”

Charles was cut off by Edwin’s lips crashing into his. His hand moved up to cradle Charles’s cheek, and the feeling was even softer than Charles had imagined. Charles leaned into it, pushing his face even closer into Edwin’s and deepening the kiss. They kissed for what felt like hours before Edwin backed away slightly, instead resting their foreheads together.

“It did not take you forever then,” Edwin laughed breathlessly, and Charles could feel it on his face.

“No. Gonna be honest it didn’t even take me three months.”

“No? Then why didn’t you tell me sooner?”

“I thought you might have moved on.”

Edwin stepped back at that, his hand having moved from Charles’s cheek down to his neck, his thumb hovering over his collarbone.

“You…what?”

“I thought maybe…since I told you I didn’t feel the same, I thought you might’ve…y’know.”

“Charles,” Edwin said, his face stern. “There are some things that are simply facts. The Earth is round. You and I are dead. Nothing will ever change either of those things. One of those universal truths is the fact that I am in love with you. Yes, if you didn’t feel the same I would have learned to conceal those feelings, but they would never have stopped being there.”

“Edwin…”

Charles didn’t know what to say. Hearing it from Niko was fine – it stunned him a little, but he could handle it. But hearing it from Edwin himself…god, it was overwhelming. He couldn’t string any words together, so he simply pulled him in for another kiss.

“I love you so much,” he murmured into Edwin’s mouth, and Edwin just kissed him harder.

Charles made a mental note to thank Niko in the morning, before all coherent thought was wiped from his mind by Edwin’s lips.

[zu-is-here]

erased from history

In this story, Ancient Egypt is not at its best: a prolonged drought has led to crop failure and famine, weak power has led to robberies and looting. The people blame yet fear the sick pharaoh who finds a solace in the pardoned soldier... 𓁈𓀎

[cordiallyfuturedwight]

you can't stop me lovin' myself ♡ for @kimtaegis

[mozart-the-meerkitten]

*rolls up 15 years late with Avatar the Last Airbender thoughts*

So I've been rewatching clips from the show lately to refresh my memory while I'm writing my Zuko Alone fanfic. And last night I rewatched the clip where Iroh teaches Zuko how to redirect lightning and I have had thoughts about this scene for years so I might as well finally throw them into the void of tumblr.

So, this scene is insane to me, because at the end of learning how he could-hypothetically- redirect lightning, Zuko looks at Iroh and, completely seriously says "okay I'm ready to try it with the real thing now". Like, Zuko, the boy with a massive scar on his face from where his father burned him just looks at his uncle and says, "shoot me with lightning".

And yes, he's 16 and not thinking but that's part of the point because the amount of blind, complete trust Zuko has in Iroh to look at him and say "shoot lightning at me" after the insane trauma he had at the hands of his own father- that is WILD to me. Zuko literally trusts Iroh so much that he just assumes, without even having to think about it, that no matter how volatile and unpredictable the lightning is, Iroh won't hurt him because Zuko cannot fathom his uncle hurting him.

And of course, Iroh's appalled because Zuko's standing there with a massive scar on his face from when his father misused firebending against him and likewise, Iroh cannot fathom hurting Zuko. And since IROH knows how volatile and unpredictable lightning is and how it could literally kill his son nephew he is absolutely NOT going to use it just to let Zuko practice redirecting lightning, but he's so flabbergasted that Zuko would even ask him that that he just kind of splutters angrily that he will ABSOLUTELY NOT shoot lightning at Zuko. (it's also just another layer of how messed up Ozai is because he shot lightning at Zuko without a second thought later)

But I hope Iroh thought about it later and realized the amount of pure, unthinking trust Zuko has in him because ;-; the child didn't even THINK about it. "Okay uncle shoot lightning at me now. I know I'll be safe because it's you." I love them so much 😭😭

[teethkid67]

PAYDAY

aka a valentine for the lovely @itsnotmystic / @corvids-calling - fanart for stars fic of the same name, which you can read here !!! i really enjoyed this concept and wanted to do some art for it :3 hope you like it because i REALLY loved your work & i hope this shows that !!! HAPPY VALENTINES DAY !!!!

this is also a loose love-letter to the wonderful @arginnit 's crazy background-drawing-ability and style/skill at portraying environments . wadds your stuff is insane and i love it

happy @mcyt-valentines exchange !!!!

[starry-bi-sky]

Clone^2 - Separation Strikes

"Why do I have to go?" Damian asks, surly and accent-thick, it sounds more like a demand and a whine at the same time. Sitting on the kitchen table with his arms crossed, in a green t-shirt that Danny bought him at a whim when he was at a thrift shop, and black shorts, he's never looked more like a kid. There's a little backpack leaning against the table leg, Damian begrudgingly picked it out when they went shopping.

His English has grown in leaps and bounds since Danny found him -- er, or more accurately; since Damian was spat out in front of him. -- and very little did they have to use the translator on Danny's phone these days.

Which meant one thing: Damian can start attending school comfortably now. And 'go' was the Amity Smiles Child Care Center. Danny and Jazz went as kids until they were twelve, and Mom and Dad actually managed to convince the center director to let Damian enroll for the summer.

And it was summer; Damian starts today.

"Because," Danny says, trying and failing to hide the smile pulling on his face, his heart warm and soft, and also laughing at Damian's expense; "being cooped up in the house all day isn't good for you, and you're starting school in the Fall. And, in Jazz's words: you need to have interactions with other kids your age for the benefit of your social development. And besides, it's only for the morning."

Damian's nose scrunches up, and his eyes roll so violently that for a moment, Danny thinks about joking that he'll get his eyes stuck like that. He holds his tongue; his little brother already looks like he's five seconds away from committing an act of violence.

"I don't need social interaction." Damian sneers, his cheek in his hand; a neverend pool of pride. "I am--"

"The Blood of the Demon Heir, better than everyone else." Danny cuts off, waving his hand in dismissive circles, his voice mockingly deep. Damian's brown skin darkens in embarrassment, and he scowls at Danny. "I know, bud. But Jazz is right, -- don't tell her I said that, -- you should be around kids your age."

Especially when he starts First Grade in the Fall. Honestly -- Danny was a little nervous to send him to the center. Damian's long since cut the habit of trying to kill or otherwise maim people, his palms ache-burn with gentle reminder, but his tongue was as sharp and as cutting as his sword. He still struggles with trying to quell it when he's upset. Vicious child-weapon that he once was, and will never be again.

Danny knows that it comes from a place of fear and defense, that Damian lashes out because that's what he's been taught. That at the end of the day, he doesn't really mean what he says, and he's learning to express himself better. But the other kids don't know that, and kids can be unforgiving and cruel.

Danny just...

His slow beating heart sighs, melancholy settles behind his lungs.

He doesn't want Damian to be outcasted. He doesn't want him to be alone.

Not like he was.

Damian sneers again, but says nothing, his shoulders crawling up to hide his ears like a turtle receding into his shell. Danny watches him silently, leaning against the kitchen counter with his own arms crossed. The clock hanging on the wall ticks in their ears -- it's almost time to go.

He watches Damian, careful, and so he sees it when his little brother's stone-shell pride and petulance shudders, and cracks. The darkened furrow of Damian's brows weakens, and for a moment, slants back.

Ah, Danny thinks, his own shoulders slumping. Epiphany washes over him, and his sad-heart soothes in warm understanding. So that's what it is.

His head tilts, and his hair spills over his shoulders, messy and fluffy, tickling his neck. Some of his bangs fall into his face. "Hal 'ant easabiatan ya habibi?" He asks, voice low and soft. Just as Damian's English has improved, so has Danny's Arabic. He still stumbles over himself some days, and Damian says his accent is trash, but they can have whole conversations now in Damian's mothertongue.

(Danny was incredibly proud of himself for it.)

Damian's face darkens, his blush spreading across the rest of his face, and he ducks his head down. Grown-out curls, black-brown and springy, falls over his eyes. "La!" He yells, loud and indignant, and not at all convincingly. "La 'asheur bialtawaturi!"

He was nervous. Danny can see it now, in the hunch of his shoulders and the tightness of his face, and faintly, he can feel it too. In the ecto-rich air of the Fentonworks House, it thrums, barely-there, like a hummingbird behind his lungs.

Danny can't stop the little, fond smile that forces itself across his lips and upticks the corner of his mouth. "It's okay to be nervous, little brother." He says, he sounds like Jazz when he says that. He doesn't think she'll mind him borrowing the nickname.

He pushes himself off the counter, and Damian refuses to look at him, hiding behind his hair and in his shoulders. It takes three long strides for him to reach the table, and Danny turns, plants his hands on the ledge, and hoists himself up. Right next to Damian.

Damian leans into him easily when Danny's arm wraps around his shoulders and tucks him close to his heart. He can feel his ear against his ribs. Danny hunches over him, resting his chin on Damian's head. "It's so okay to be nervous, actually. I was nervous, Jazz was nervous." He tells him, scratching the blunt edge of his nails across his scalp. "Everyone gets nervous."

"'Ana last aljumiea." Damian mumbles, as small and feeble as he was the night on the OPS Center balcony, realizing that his mom and the League weren't coming for him. Realizing that he was replaceable.

Danny's half-working heart squeezes; in grief, in rage, and his faucet eyes sting. He breathes in carefully, and presses his nose into Damian's hair in a loving faux-kiss. "You're right, you're not everyone." He says, steady and strong, because if he's not a pillar for his family, who else is he?

He can feel Damian's eyes flick up to him, and Danny smiles into his black-brown curls. Tilts his head to squish his cheek against him instead, hand dropping to thumb below Damian's lashes. "You're Damian Fenton," Because the adoption went through a few weeks ago, and he's still riding that high, "You're my baby brother. O' Artist Extraordinaire, Kickass with a Sword, Vegetarian and Wonderful Co-Ghost Hunter."

Damian tries to stifle a smile, and fails. Score! Triumph gathers in Danny's gut, his smile grows wider. He squeezes Damian tight, and only releases him so he can look him in the eyes. "And if anyone gives you a hard time at school, and I mean anyone--"

Danny has bad memories of the teachers looking the other way when the other kids were bullying him, all because he was a Fenton.

And Danny, bleeding heart, bleeding hands, loves his family more than he will ever love himself, will never let Damian experience the same injustice. Not if he can help it.

His eyes narrow, and the buzzy-film of ectoplasm covers his eyes, making them glow, "--You tell me. And as your awesome great big brother-and-technically-dad-but-only-biologically, I will handle it."

Damian, wonderfully made, full of light, his little brother Damian, giggles weakly at him. A sound that's worth it's weight in gold. The scary eyes dissipate, and Danny matches the sound with a cock-eyed, impish grin, dragging Damian into a soul-crushing, too-tight hug. The kind that only annoying older brothers can give. "Got it?"

That gets a proper, if short, laugh out of Damian. He wriggles in Danny's arms, trying to break free. But Danny does calisthenics, his arms are as big as Damian's head, so it doesn't work. "Understood, now, daeni 'adhhab ya 'akhi!"

Danny laughs, loud and bright, and loosens his hold just a smidge, only so he can adjust his grip and hop off the table with Damian still in arm.

"Never!" He crows, hoisting Damian slightly. One eye flick at the clock, and in one quick move, he secures Damian under one arm like a football, and hooks his foot under the strap of his backpack. Kicking it up, he tosses it into the air and catches it with his free hand, and slings it over his shoulder. "Now, to the car, my boy! Before we're late and Mom and Dad get charged."

Damian groans, childish and dramatic and long, but his face is all squished up with a wide grin and glee. Danny can taste his joy beneath his tongue.

"And, if my little pep talk didn't encourage you," He says, reaching the door to the garage, flipping Damian up onto his hip instead. "If you have a good day today, I'll make you bal mithai when you get back."

Like all kids at the promise of sweets, Damian's eyes widen and glitter. Danny loves seeing Damian be a kid, it's his favorite thing in the world. "I will!"

[ghost-proofbaby]

It's summer for you, winter for me. Warm me up with strawberry fluff! As always, my muse, your muse, the one and only, Eddie.

Midsummer's night, because I don't have a lot to inspire you with. I'm thinking something cute but weird? Maybe some human body softness where Eddie is a bit of a freak and we love him for it. And we're told our bodies are lovely, even when they're doing weird shit.

I lalalove youuuuu. xo Rhi

RHI!!!! <3 i adore you. thank you for this prompt - i had far too many ideas for it, but ended up on settling for this one, which coincidentally feels like the most subtle of them all? either way, it definitely turned out being the softest. give me an eddie munson who just wants to sniff me like a dog. this definitely got a bit long but i hope you enjoy, my dear <3

the smell of you

warnings: weirdos in love? idk. i have a skewed sense of what is actually weird i think. mentions of death and coffins jokingly. eddie 'manhandles' reader sort of. not edited.

wc: 2.2k+

come enjoy a sweet summer treat with me <3

“Eddie?”

The entire apartment is quiet – too quiet – as you drop your keys into the old crystal bowl on the counter. The clink resonates through the air, louder than the soft murmur of the stereo static you can hear from down the hall. 

“You dead?” you call out again, slipping off your running shoes and tossing down your headphones onto the counter as well now, “Do I need to call the coroner?” 

Your tone is lilted, teasing with airiness as you continue to wander deeper into the apartment and head straight for the room you know Eddie has to be in. Like the waves pulled by the moon, there’s an incessant string tied around one end of your soul that connects you to his, and you follow it all the way down the hallway. The bedroom door is wide open, and you can hear his mumbled yell of a response without clarity before you even cross the threshold. 

You wouldn’t have even needed him to verbally respond to find him in this tiny apartment. You two could get separated on the streets of a bustling city, of a buzzing New York sidewalk, and you still wouldn’t properly lose him. It’s more than just soul ties and his gravity that keeps you pulled to him. 

Something unspoken. Something homely. 

“Sorry, what was that?” you hum as you spy him face-down in the bed, pillow muting him by the mouthful, “Say it one more time, and this time not into the pillow.” 

When he finally properly turns over, he’s a vision. Sleep lines folded into his skin and a bit of drool in the corner of his mouth, eyes squinting in irritation not at you but the sunlight flooding in through the bedroom window. Messy hair, messy shirt, messy everything. A kind of mess you just want to collapse into currently, curling up in all that he is from the day’s exhaustion. 

He’d mentioned wanting to take a nap before you’d left for the gym. Something about the summer heat draining him, trailing off as he’d rambled about how he’d probably thrive as a vampire. 

“I said,” he huffs, sitting up, the frizz of his hair becoming a makeshift halo, “If you call the coroner, request the comfiest coffin possible.”

“Why do you need a comfy coffin if you’re already dead?” 

“You dare deny me of being buried in tempurpedic memory foam? In my hour of need?” 

You roll your eyes as you huff out a little laugh, forcing yourself to turn away from him long enough to strip out of your socks. But just as you reach down for the pieces of clothing, you catch sight of the source of that stereo static flooding the room. 

Your shared record player, spinning a blood red pressing of one of your more recent vinyl purchases. The album has been played through, but the player no longer had an automatic stop mechanism, probably from years of use. 

The center of the record is probably scratched, and Eddie knows it, from how sheepish he looks when you glance over your shoulder at him. 

“Speaking of death,” you walk over quickly, purposefully, before carefully lifting the needle and cutting the static finally, “Care to explain why you’re burning scratches into my Momento Mori vinyl?” 

“I’m sorry,” he quickly apologizes, nearly flinging himself off the bed as he scooches quickly to the end, clearly fully awake now, “I put it on and thought I’d just lay down for a quick second, but then the bed was so comfy, and I thought it wouldn’t hurt to take a quick nap, and then…” he trails off, looking up at you through his lashes with big eyes already pleading for forgiveness, “I’ll buy you a new one. Swear it.” 

It’s impossible to be mad at him when he’s looking like this, inhumanely soft and easily forgiven, “You’re lucky you’re cute, or you really would be dead.” 

He doesn’t respond with words, but instead the outstretch of his hands, fingers flexing as he beckons to you. The needle rests on its perch, the vinyl left behind to gather dust for a few extra moments, as you go straight to him. 

When his palms slip beneath your old t-shirt and meet your skin, they’re pleasantly warm. 

“You were right,” you admit as his knees spread, delegating even more room for you to stand in front of him as your hand wanders to cradle the side of his face, fingers tangling in sweaty curls from his rest. Your thumb mimics his on your own skin instinctively, tracing a large arch right up over his cheekbone, “It’s hot as balls outside.” 

“Told you so,” he murmurs, smiling softly in satisfaction as he leans lazily into your touch. 

“You did,” you agree quietly, half-entranced by his relaxed face, no sight of pride in the room currently. 

He resembles a cat as he continues to preen under your gentle hand, and you almost expect him to start purring right before you find the strength to pull away, removing his hands from where they'd wandered to your lower back. 

One swipe of his finger along your sweaty spine, and you’d remembered what your original intentions had been immediately upon getting home. 

“Wai- Where are you going?” he’s seemingly brought back down to Earth the moment he loses the pattern your thumb had been tracing, the press of your fingertips into his scalp. When he reaches back out to latch onto you again, you take a step back, “Get back here-”

“I need to shower,” you laugh, shaking your head and smacking his hands away as he continues to barter, “I’m all sweaty and smelly, let me go clean up and then we can nap togeth-” 

“You can shower after we nap,” he nearly whines, finally catching your shirt between his fingers and tugging, uncaring for if he stretches the fabric. A small price to pay to have you close to him, “C’mon, sweetheart. I know you’re just as exhausted as I am.” 

You swear you meant to take another step backwards, but somehow, you end up back between his knees, “Did you not hear me, Munson? I stink.”

“Good.” 

He doesn’t give you any time to react – in an instant, he’s throwing his face forward, burying it against your stomach as you let out a gasp and immediately try to pry him away with far too gentle of hands in his hair. 

“Eddie!”

If it were anyone else, you’d probably be mortified. But Eddie just takes a dramatic deep breath in, nose buried just shy of your belly button, and when his shoulders start to shake with muted laughter, you can’t stop the smile from breaking. Your fingers are still twisted in his hair, still pulling back in an attempt to get him away from you, but he’s resilient. 

And all your faux resistance is weak in comparison. Soon enough, you’re back to melting into him. 

Only once you’re relaxed once more, no sign of trying to pull away again any time soon as his hands once more evade the space beneath your shirt to wander up and down your sticky skin without a care in the world, does he lift his face away from you long enough to breathe and speak, “I’ll have you know – I love your stink.”

“Shut up.”

“I’m serious.” 

“You’re an idiot.” 

“I’m your idiot.” 

The game of banter is cut short when he goes back to pressing his nose into your clothes that surely can’t smell good. No amount of deodorant or perfume could erase that underlying stench of sweat. Hell, the shirt is still a bit moist from it all: from the walk to the gym, from your workout itself, from the walk home. It’d been through the ringer, and you’re back to tugging him away from you. 

“I refuse to believe you like how gross I smell right now,” you reinforce, eyes darting towards the bathroom connected to your master bedroom, “I promise I’ll be quick with the shower.” 

“Baby,” he fights back, wrapping his arms around you securely, no intention of losing this battle, “You remember that time we went to the fair, and you were complaining about how you were sweating, so I tried to lick your face?” 

Your nose scrunches quickly at the memory, “I do, unfortunately.”

“You really think I’d be willing to lick the sweat off your body but be afraid of you smelling a little bad while we cuddle?” his shoulders drop as he looks up at you, head tilted, almost as if amused with the conversation, “What kind of man do you take me for?” 

“The kind that gets off on annoying me.” 

His jaw drops, putting on a fake look of offense before he dramatically throws himself back onto the bed, laying flat as he makes a fist to mimic stabbing his chest, “You wound me.”

You’ve heard those words a thousand times in a hundred different ridiculous voices. You’ve seen this scene enough to have it mesmerized at this point, down to the over-exaggerated pout of his lips and the lingering of the fist against his sternum. 

You never grow tired of it. You never will. 

“Need me to kiss it better?” you joke as you prop a knee up on the bed, following the same script as always. 

And he hits his queue perfectly when he lifts his head eagerly at the expected response, wiggling his brows a bit. “Absolutely. Doctor’s orders, in fact.” 

“Great,” you see an opportunity, and take it, “I’ll get right to it, after my showe-” 

You don’t even get the final syllable of the word off your tongue before he’s clenching his thighs around your own, knees pressing hard before he wraps his legs the rest of the way around your waist to pull you in. A squeak of surprise leaves your lips as you begin to fall forward, but Eddie is quick to break the fall with ease. Catching you with his eager hands, maneuvering for you to half drop to the mattress while some of you still lands atop of him. 

He has you right where he wants you, turning his head to be face to face with you, noses nearly brushing, “Unfortunately, the doc said you have to kiss it better now, or else you’ll be comfy coffin shopping.” 

“A fatal wound?” you gasp, nearly mocking him. It doesn’t offend him – if anything, his boyish grin only grows wider, “First, I’m smelly-”

“Again, I like when you’re smelly.”

“-And then I inflict a fatal wound upon my lover? Oh, how dare I.”

Slowly, all your insecurity of how you currently smell is simply fading. The entire ordeal has become an art of childlike, whimsical jokes – and Eddie is an artist. A professional at the dance, locked and loaded with his incomparable skill set equipped for disarming you this way. The ability to make someone feel loved, imperfections and weirdness aside. 

He likes you, even when you claim you don’t smell your best. And you like him, even when his hair is tangled beyond recognition and one of his socks is half-hanging off his foot from a nap.

You like him when he’s embarrassing you in public, tongue chasing after you with the threat of licking your sweat away, and he likes you when all you can do in response is a weak palm to his chest (that isn’t even making an effort to push him away) as you giggle relentlessly. 

You like each other on the good days, the bad days, the weird days. 

Disarmed entirely, you don’t even notice when his face conveniently slots itself far too close to your armpit as you two scooch further up into the bed. You’re more occupied with the way your legs tangle up, toeing each other’s socks off properly as he slings a heavy arm across your torso. 

“We’re gonna have to wash the sheets,” you mumble, exhaustion catching up as the two of you finally settle. 

He hums absentmindedly, nuzzling into your skin a bit further as he makes himself comfortable. “And wash away your sweet, sweet stink? I don’t think so, sweetheart.” 

“Oh, fuck off,” you laugh, unbothered as your fingers start to trail up and down his back over the t-shirt, smoothing out wrinkles along the way, “I’m serious. We need to change them soon anyways, I think I got crumbs in the bed the other night with those crackers.” 

“Bury me in the crumbs of all your midnight snacks,” he almost slurs, clearly drifting back off. 

You snort in response, relaxing and letting your own eyes shut. Matching all your deep breaths with his own, a million different last words crossing your mind to whisper to the boy you’re sure is once again asleep. 

I love you.

I adore you. 

I would like to spend the rest of my life with you, if you’ll have me. 

And maybe some of those unspoken thoughts slip out without you realizing, because he squeezes you just a little bit tighter, presses his face just a little bit deeper into your skin as his scruff tickles you. 

The only actual thought you can know for certain that you say, though, is, “Do you think they actually make coffins with memory foam inside?” 

To your surprise, even despite the almost-snores that had been escaping him, he answers in a heartbeat. 

“Oh, definitely. We’ll order two.”

[luxaofhesperides]

I'm not sure if you're still taking Ghostlights requests, but if you are: Dick asking Duke to take Haley to the dog park for him in order to set up a meet-cute for him with the guy with the weird green rottweiler

And if you aren't, just know that you're doing great and I appreciate the hell out of you

“Oh, shoot!” 

Hearing Dick rush around as a frantic mess is not uncommon while he’s in Gotham. There’s too many people wanting to spend time with him that he ends up pulled in a bunch of different directions. Dick’s always in a rush, always busy, always making time for people because he has more love than Duke has ever seen in a person.

Dick’s also got pretty good time management skills after years of doing this. He’s only cutting out a few minutes early for their designated three hour catch-up session. 

That doesn’t mean he’s going to do it gracefully, though.

“Almost lost track of the time!” he says, moving to the couch to pick up his jacket. “Hey, Duke, can do you me a favor while I’m out?”

“Sure, what is it?”

“Can you take Haley to the dog park? I usually take her twice a week around this time, but I totally forgot to include that in my calendar this week so I’ve got plans with the Titans just outside the city, and no time to take her out.”

“Yeah, man, of course I can take her to the dog park. The one attached to Robinson Park, right?”

Dick nods, shoving his shoes onto his feet. “That’s the one! Her treats are also in the bag hanging next to her leash. Oh, and she has a friend at the dog park! Don’t be scared when you see him, he’s just green.”

“Oh…kay?”

“Great, thanks! Bye, Duke, I’ll see you later!”

And with that, Dick is gone, closing the door to his safehouse as he dashes into the hall. 

Duke is left alone in Dick’s Gotham safehouse, blinking dazedly at the empty space where he once was. He’s certainly a whirlwind of activity when he realizes he’s going to be late. He’s also skilled in just saying things and leaving before any questions can be answered.

Haly jumps up onto the couch next to Duke. They share a look, then Duke shakes his head. “You have to deal with that every day, huh?”

Haly, the good girl that she is, doesn’t say anything bad against her owner and just puts a paw on Duke’s thigh, her tail wagging. 

“I hear ya, girl. Let’s go to the dog park to meet your green friend,  I guess.”

He has no idea what that means, honestly. Is Dick just talking about a dog that got its fur dyed green? Or is Haly’s friend like… a mutant dog? 

Well, he’s not going to find out by stalling. 

Duke pets Haly, then stands up and walks to the door. Her head perks up as soon as she hears the jangle of her leash being moved, and then she’s running to the door, looking up at him expectantly. Smiling, Duke slips the harness onto her, then attached it to the leash. He gives her another quick pet before shoving on his shoes and grabbing her bag of treats and waste disposal bags. 

He double checks that he has his phone, then takes hold of Dick’s spare safehouse key and steps out into the hallway with Haly. She waits patiently as he locks the door, checks that the lock holds, then runs down the hallway, ripping the leash right out of his hands.

“Haly! Wait! Stop, girl!”

She happily ignores him and goes straight for the elevator, leaving him to run after her and quickly scoop up the leash as soon as he’s close enough.

“Of course you’re a little escape artists,” he says to her, “Just like your owner.”

Haly woofs softly, then stands up and scratches at the doors of the elevator. Shaking his head, amused, Duke pushes the button to call the elevator and wonders if Dick has to deal with this every time they go to the dog park. 

On one hand, it wouldn’t surprise him since Dick is absolutely the kind of guy to give in to his dog’s every whims and spoil her rotten. On the other hand, Duke fully believes that Haly is smart enough and cute enough to misbehave only when Dick isn’t around so he never believes people when they try to tell him about all the mischief she’s caused. 

Dogs and their owners really do reflect one another. The internet was right about that.

Duke makes sure to keep a tight grip on Haly’s leash once they leave the apartment building. The streets are busy, as they tend to be on weekends, and the sight of Haly straining against her leash, ready to run, brings a smile to more than one face. 

He plots the route to the dog park in his mind, then starts up a light jog, tugging lightly on the leash to prompt Haly to follow him. 

It’s nice to run just for the sake of it. Haly makes a good running partner as well. 

How long has it been since Duke had time to relax and not be prepared for the worst? All the running he usually does these days is to catch up with criminals or run for his life. Being out during the day, moving through the city, without any lives in danger? Genuinely nice and relaxing. 

Maybe he can offer to take Haly to the dog park from now on. Join Dick whenever he goes. Create a set few hours where he doesn’t do anything but enjoy being outside in one of the few places where the smog of pollution and chemical toxins isn’t so thick in the air. 

He’ll just have to make sure Dick doesn’t agree to something else during those days. It’s still strange to think that Dick could forget to do something involving Haly when he’s such a good dog owner and a pro at juggling various responsibilities and a busy schedule. 

Well, they all have off days. This must be one of Dick’s.

The sidewalks get wider once they reach the street that leads to the park. Families fill up the space, walking with strollers in front of them or lined up at a food cart. The vivid green of spring fills the grassy fields that lead to the large patches of trees, marking the edge of Poison Ivy’s territory. Clovers decorate the ground, bees moving from flower to flower. 

There are other dogs on walks as well, making circuits around the park or running after toys. Duke spots a cat in a walking harness as well and wonders if he can convince Damian to get one for Alfred the cat. 

The dog park is on the other end of the park, as far away from Ivy’s territory as possible. The fenced off areas are separated into big dogs and small dogs, with a helpful guide as to which dogs go where posted at the entrance. 

Duke slows to a walk, breathing deeply to help settle his heart rate back down to something normal. Haly walks by his side, tail wagging, as she watches the other dogs run back and forth behind the fence. 

She’s still small, just growing out of puppy size, so Duke leads her into the small dog area, carefully making sure the gate doesn’t open enough for any quick dogs to make a break for it. He walks over to a bench and sits down before undoing the harness on her, setting her loose. 

Haly licks his hand once, then darts away, barking lightly as she joins the other dogs tumbling around each other. 

Amused, Duke leans back at watches as the other dogs sniff her, then do their funny little bowing stomps, moving back and forth before running off so she can give chase. 

He figures staying for an hour will be good enough. That should get the most of her energy out, and then they can make the long trek back to Dick’s safehouse so he can pick her up before he heads back to Bludhaven. Pulling out his phone, Duke settles in to wait, keeping half his attention on Haly just in case any of the other dogs decide to get a little too rough.

The first twenty minutes pass peacefully. Haly runs around and the owners of the other dogs give her pets when she runs up to them. One even went over to Duke to offer him a pack of fruit gummies. 

Then a loud bark fills the air and Duke jerks upright, watching with wide eyes as a colossally large dog, green and glowing and slightly transparent, comes barrelling down the street, headed right towards them. 

He doesn’t have time to yell Haly’s name before the dog is in the fence. None of the other dog owners look alarmed, though, so he watches carefully, prepared to jump up and save Haly at a moment’s notice.

“Cujo!” someone yells from down the street. A guy with dark hair comes running up and smoothly jumps over the fence. “Cujo, how many times do I have to tell you not to run off like that?”

The green dog, apparently Cujo, barks happily.

“And you’re too big for this park right now, buddy. Shrink, boy. It’s time to be small.”

And then Cujo… obeys? The dog shrinks, and instead of being the size of a bus, it’s now small enough to be carried in someone’s arms. 

Green dog is not enough warning for all of that. Dick owes him so much for this.

Actually, he’s kind of shocked that Dick never mentioned this to anyone. Surely a giant green dog would get people’s attention. Why is this the first time he’s heard about it?

“You new around here?” someone asks, and Duke turns to see the person who gave him the fruit gummies.

“Kinda? It’s my first time coming to the dog park. I’m looking after Haly, that one right over there.” He points out Haly, who is running in circles around Cujo.

“Ah, I see. Dick mentioned someone new would be coming today.”

Duke narrows his eyes. He’s starting to get the feeling that he’s been set up for something, but he’s not sure what. 

“I’ll give you the spiel we tell all newcomers, in that case,” they continue. “Cujo is a ghost dog. Poor thing died during some animal testing, far as we know. Danny looks after him, since Cujo got attached to the kid years ago before he moved to Gotham. He’s a kind one, but very nervous, and we’ve all got an agreement to keep quiet about him and Cujo round this parts. You better be holding your tongue, as well, ya hear me?”

“Sure thing,” Duke nods. “My lips are sealed.”

He’ll just ask Dick about the ghost dog situation and do his own investigation if needed. But Cujo is just a dog, and his owner is just a guy. Nothing threatening, nothing requiring a Bat’s attention.

“Good,” they nod. “I’ll get out of your hair now.” They’re gone before Duke can reply, adjusting the hat on their head as they head back to their group in the back left corner of the dog park. 

Satisfied that things are under control, Duke relaxes back into the bench, watching Haly and Cujo tumble around with the other dogs, barking happily. Haly’s still growing into her paws, so she trips and falls often, but gets up without a moments pause, ready to keep playing.

From the corner of his eyes, Duke catches sight of someone walking towards him. 

He looks over and finds Cujo’s owner—Danny, wasn’t it?—approaching. Their eyes meet, and Danny offers him a sheepish smile and a wave. His eyes are a dark blue that seem to glow with some otherworldly light, and Duke can swear he sees something shifting around him, as if the air has turned visible and twists around his body like wisps of smoke. 

“Mind if I sit with you?” Danny asks, and Duke moves to the side a bit.

“Go ahead,” he says.

“You’re Duke, right? Dick told me about you last week.”

It’s looking more and more like Dick is up to something, and Duke will need to get his revenge. “Did he? All good things, I hope.”

“Aha, yeah, all good things. Um, actually I think I should apologize? I maybe said you sounded like my type so Dick promised that he’d get you here somehow. Sorry if this is messing up your plans for the day.”

Oh. Oh! 

Well. That’s interesting. 

Duke quietly shelves his plans for revenge against Dick and takes a proper look at Danny. He’s shy, but with a bright smile, glowing eyes and strange smoke curling around him still, and messy black hair windswept from chasing after Cujo. There’s a flush in his cheeks and his long fingers fiddle with the string of his dark red hoodie. 

“Don’t worry, I didn’t have any plans today. This is way better than just sleeping all day.”

“Well, I don’t know about that,” Danny laughs, “There’s nothing I like more than being able to sleep all day. That would fix me for sure.”

There’s a loud bark, and Danny’s eyes snap back to Cujo, who is growing bigger. “Cujo!” Danny yells, voice sharp. “Shrink down, or we go home.”

Cujo grumbles, whines, then goes back to being little. The green dog only has a moment to look sad before Haly is tackling him, sending them back into another chase around the park. 

“Sorry about that,” Danny says, slouching against the bench. 

“It’s all good,” Duke replies. “So. I’m your type, huh?”

Danny’s cheeks turn a deep, charming red. He looks away, then nods and ducks his head down. 

“And that hasn’t changed after meeting me?”

Danny shakes his head, then peeks over at Duke, gaze slowly moving up his body until he meets Duke’s eyes. “Definitely hasn’t changed,” he says.

Now it’s Duke’s turn to feel his cheeks burn, flustered and pleasantly surprised by Danny’s boldness. It doesn’t help that Danny is cute, someone he can see himself falling for. 

“Good,” he says, then knocks his knee against Danny’s. “I wouldn’t mind getting to know you more. On one condition.”

“Oh? And what would that be?”

“Tell me what Dick told you about me. I wanna make sure he wasn’t sharing an embarrassing stories about me. If I’m gonna make a fool of myself, then I’ll do it myself with no outside help.”

Danny’s laugh is bright and warm and sends butterflies dancing in Duke’s stomach. “Fair enough!” he says. “And you know what? I’ll trade you for embarrassing stories. Trust me, I have so many. Nothing you’ve done can be worse that the dumb shit I do on a regular basis.”

“Woah, woah, woah, confident, aren’t we? Don’t say that until you’ve heard about some of the stupid situation I choose to throw myself into.”

“Please, I’m an younger brother. If anyone knows how to be stupid, it’s me.”

“I’m part of the disaster that is the Wayne family. I think that has you beat.”

“My parents are mad scientists and my dog is a ghost. Try again.” The teasing smile on Danny’s lips makes him want to be reckless, to keep pushing, to go down this path as far as he can.  Duke can’t remember the last time he clicked with someone so instantly, to be so comfortable with them so soon. 

Damn. He’s gonna have to thank Dick for this, isn’t he?

As if on cue, his phone buzzes in his pocket. Duke pulls it out with an apologetic smile to Danny, who leans back a bit to give him some privacy.

The text that pops up is from Dick. It’s a photo of him and Danny from the side, heads bent close together as they talk with bright smiles. He can just make out the wild red curls of Kori’s hair. 

“I’m gonna put jello in his socks,” Duke says cheerfully, already looking around to find where Dick is hiding. 

He probably already moved locations, the ass. 

“What’s up?” 

He holds out his phone so Danny can see the screen. Danny stares at it, then looks around, then stares at the screen again. 

“...Is he watching us?”

“Yep.”

“...Should we do something about it?”

Duke shrugs. “I mean, I’m up for hunting him down and tackling him if you are.”

“I can do you one better,” Danny says with a sharp grin. He whistles, and Cujo comes running over, Haly at his heels, and he skids to a stop to sit before Danny. “Cujo. You remember Dick?” Cujo barks, as if answering. “Fetch! Go fetch Dick!”

Cujo jumps to his feet, grows from the size of a pug to a bear, and takes off for the art instillation farther into Robinson Park. Moments later, they hear a yell followed by loud laughter, and Cujo and running back, Dick hanging from his mouth, with Kori, Donna, and Roy following after him at a leisurely stroll. 

“I think we’re gonna get along great,” Duke says. “He’s gonna wish he never set us up.”

“That’s the way to do it,” Danny agrees.

“Say, wanna grab lunch together tomorrow?”

Danny blinks, then blushes again. “What, like a date?”

“Yeah, as a date. You up for it?”

“How could I say no? I was promised embarrassing stories.”

He watches as Cujo drops a rumpled looking Dick to the ground, half his shirt soaked with saliva. He dramatically mimes being shot in the heart when he sees them both looking at him, and goes limp when Kori picks him up and tries to set him on his feet. 

Then he tries to act very calm and cool as Danny leans against him. “Think he’s gonna follow up on our date?” Danny asks in a low voice.

Duke closes his eyes and tries not to despair. He didn’t even think of that. “Worse. He’s going to tell everyone else, then we’ll have every available Wayne kid stalking us on our date.”

“Guess I’ll have to rely on you to chase them off, huh?”

“Or we can sic Cujo on them again.”

“Or that,” Danny nods. “It’s always effective.”

He’s really going to have to bring his best to the date tomorrow, just to stay a step ahead of everyone else. Maybe he’ll ask Barbara for a favor and get her to lead them off? And if Bruce gets involved, then Duke is fully prepared to flashbang him, grab Danny, and run. 

It’s going to be a disaster.

It’s going to be fun.

He’s already looking forward to it, and from the mischievous smile on Danny’s face, he’s not the only one.

[baldursgate3tempobsessed]

You wanna know what I'm surprised I haven't seen more of? Bard Tavs serenading Astarion, or singing him to sleep with a lullaby composed just for him. I'm sure Astarion would eat up all that affection.

This is so cute omg. And also managed to be an actual drabble instead of a novel! As always cw for spoilers!

~

Astarion woke with a start, his heart pounding in his chest as he frantically looked around. But he wasn't in Cazador's torture room. No, instead he was at the Elfsong, safe and sound in a private room. It had been another nightmare, a typical occurrence as of late.

Atarion had assumed that those would stop after the monster was dead, but they seemed to be more frequent than ever. It felt unfair. He had won. Cazador was dead, by his own hand. There was nothing left to fear. Well... that wasn't including the tadpole still trapped in his lover's skull, not to mention his own. And the Elder Brain. And the cult of Bhaal. But in all honesty, all of that felt so small now with his slave master disintegrated. If he could do what had felt impossible, what had been impossible, for centuries, why couldn't he accomplish the rest?

Astarion groaned as he sat up, realizing for the first time that he was alone in bed. But luckily enough you hadn't gone far. He turned to find you sitting on the window sill, illuminated by the moonlight as you scribbled away in your journal.

You glanced over at the sound of his shuffling, your brow furrowed, "Star? Why are you still awake?"

"I could ask you the same thing," Astarion sighed, the coldness of your side of the bed coming into full perspective. He would like that fixed sooner than later, "Now come back to me, it's cold."

You smiled, slipping down from your perch to join him in bed. Astarion wasn't quite sure when such simple actions would stop making him melt like an infatuated teenager. He was starting to think that it would never come to an end.

You laughed softly as he immediately wrapped his arms around you, cradling you against his chest, "You know how I love to sleep in fits and starts. But you don't exactly have the same excuse, do you? You look so tired lately."

Astarion frowned, loathing the fact that his lack of sleep had become so obvious. But then again, if anyone was going to be familiar with his night terrors, it would be you. He sighed, "Just nightmares. Nothing you haven't heard before."

You frowned, "That doesn't make them pleasant."

"No," Astarion laughed softly, "It doesn't. But now it's your turn. What were you up to in the middle of the night?"

"Just some writing. I've been working on a few things."

"Like what?" Astarion asked, sincerely curious. You were quite the talent as a bard, a fact that he was aware of before he fell in love with you.

"A new ballad mostly, with a lullaby on the side."

That sounded well within your wheel house, though this was the first time he'd heard of you writing a lullaby, "What inspired that?"

"You," You said simply, "But I know how you get when I'm all mushy, so I kept it to myself for now."

Astarion hadn't expected that, but that massive smile that broke out on his face at the news wasn't a surprise. He kissed the top of your head, still smiling to himself, "I don't recall ever saying I disliked you being a sickening romantic. Can I hear it?"

You looked up at him, surprised for some reason. Which was frankly silly. Who wouldn't want to hear a song written about them from the person they loved most? For once in his life Astarion was being the normal one here.

"You want me to sing to you?" You asked, sitting up in bed to smile down at him.

Astarion grinned back, "I wouldn't object to it."

"Well in that case..."

And then you started to sing. Astarion adored the sound of your voice, and apparently he loved it even more when you were singing about him.

Little star, so bright and fierce,

Beautiful with eyes that pierce,

But that's not all there is,

He's strong and swift with perfect lips to kiss, a humor that is only his,

Charming and witty, a wish come true,

If only the rest of the world knew.

Astarion wasn't quite sure when he fell asleep that night, but it was to the sound of your sweet, melodious voice and with a smile plastered to his face.

And for the first time in days, he didn't have a single nightmare.

[johnslittlespoon]

Tough And Sweet (Like You And Me)

Ch. 8/? – 'I Don't Blink Cause I Don't Wanna Miss It'

[WC: 105K | Gale Cleven/John Egan, College AU, The Bikeriders AU, Age Gap, Emotional Slowburn, Hurt/Comfort, Porn With Plot, Set in 2005]

College student John Egan ends up in an old pub on the other side of his small town, where he has a chance encounter with biker and mechanic Gale Cleven. Unconventional circumstances be damned, John is a lovesick fool.

[AO3 LINK]

[hueseok]

okay here me out... i have this plot in mind about theater actor!bts member who recently had a scandal and is now desperate to redeem his reputation by aiming to play the lead in an upcoming korean adaptation of a famous broadway show. he’s confident, he’s positive that he will be cast because his manager seriously knows how to pull some strings to make things work for him (also ‘cause despite the scandal, he really is extraordinary at what he does)—until he discovers that the director of the show is going to be your father, and suddenly all hope is gone.

because unbeknownst to many, you and him used to date (very secretly) at the start of his career, and he does specifically remember you yelling at him to ‘never show your fucking face to me again!’ after he dumped you over call. he wants to believe that considering it’s been a decade since that incident happened, surely you wouldn’t be that petty and immature to hinder the restoration of his career by using your nepo baby powers and influencing your dad’s mind about his decision regarding the final cast.

wrong. turns out you are petty and immature still, and now his manager is convincing (forcing) him to ask you for your forgiveness / be in your good graces so that he can have the part. normally, he wouldn’t have a problem lowering his ego and pride if it’s for the betterment of his career—however, you’re determined to make his life a living hell, and he finds himself wanting to burn himself alive instead of sucking up to you who’s really starting to get on his nerves lmao.

ANYWAYS, i kinda have taehyung or jimin or seokjin in mind for this??? i’m considering jk too but i just posted a fic of him so i kinda want to do this fic for a different member hehe,, please tell me ur thoughts if i should pursue this idea or not bc i want to write it but i have a feeling it’ll take so freaking long to write since it should have proper pacing and all that shit but yeah 😫

UPDATE: this has materialized to this drabble series!

[vanpalmr]

...I love you, too.

TAISSA TURNER & VAN PALMER YELLOWJACKETS | 1.06 | 2.01 |

[vialism]

moodboard for torturedsleep's fic everything i am is everything i should be

[triglycercule]

oh yeah before i forget cute mttpoly headcanon because i said so: when killer finds out (through SOME way of means. he has his ways) that dust and horror like something then at every chance he can he goes and finds that thing for them :3 because I SAID SO AND IT'S CUTE ‼️‼️ (something something killer has no idea how to properly show affection and appreciation after believing his whole life was meant to cause pain and suffering to those close to him and now that he's trying he does silly goofy stuff like this hehe,,,,,,, dust is DROWNING in piles of fluffy blankets and books. horror cannot keep up with eating the amount of snacks killer keeps stealing for him 😞😞😞)

[tojiscrack]

I’ll never get over how comedic/dramatic this story is, that even the trigger warnings make me laugh. The Open Game’s chapter’s trigger warning said “gangs, blood” etc, and for someone who has never read your fic before, you’d think it’s something scary but no it’s just Choso trapping Gojo inside a PHONEBOX… how HILARIOUS 😭😭😭

Pure crack. Keep it up, I have never had more stitches than when I read your story 😭

liar, liar masterlist here:

it’s only ‘cause my story is available for everyone to read, including minors (i was literally a minor when i planned and started writing it) , so there’s not much to actually trigger someone when reading it 💀

and i also thought it’d be funny if it looked serious and then it’s just pure crack but that’s just me

choso trapping gojo inside a phone box was actually a traumatic incident for some ppl (gojo told me to write that otherwise i’d get hollow purpled so there’s that 😟)

i’m flattered that you find it amusing enough to drop in an ask about it 😭🫶🏽 genuinely made my day, you have no idea 🙂‍↕️💞💙🩵🤎

[island-in-the-shadows]

Did I need to write Armand bending Daniel over the railing of their opera box at the Met opera and railing him while making the mortals ignore them during the intermission of La Boheme in the fall of 1977? No.

But it's where the story wanted to go, babes.