#and they shared it so other people could use it...I just keeping thinking “No...I'm stealing their power.......”
Explore tagged Tumblr posts
Text
My new picture " Tenna falls over and dies "
(He died)
#my art#deltarune#tenna#Howww did I tag him last time I forgot. Why do I keep tagging several variants of his name and his name only.#mr ant tenna#He seems to be clumsy sometimes which is endearing.#*Observing sign on the wall reading “Do Not Claim Tenna Possesses 'Moe Through Helplessness' More Than Once In Your Lifetime” *#dt#I think you can tell when I let a simple drawing sit around for too long (like 3 days) cuz I get bored and spend too much time coloring...#I feel kind of embarrassed when I use this one brush I found from this one artist's post even though i like it...#and they shared it so other people could use it...I just keeping thinking “No...I'm stealing their power.......”#deltarune spoilers#<- I almost forgot the spoilers tag. One day I will realize that everyone has already seen what tenna looks like.#Maybe in like another week. Time's moved so quickly...
57 notes
·
View notes
Text
JUNO IN THE SIGNS, 👩❤️👨
You can reblog ↪️ but please have the decency not 🚫 to steal my posts
(JUST AN HONEST OBSERVATION)
Juno represents your union and marriage with your spouse . Juno persona chart shows how both of you act and live in the union. According to me, Pls note that Juno is about the union and not your spouse . Juno focuses on you both(the union) not your spouse.
© Victoryai
♈ Juno in Aries: Your marriage/union is filled with bursts of energy and action. It's like a blockbuster movie. Life after marriage will NOT be boring 😄. You and your spouse create a union of energetic souls. You both have your own separate identities that if not handled well could damage this beautiful union. It's very possible one of you approached the other spontaneously and asked to date when you both met. Too much energy can however turn into agression if not kept in check 😭. You all can play fight 🥰 but don't let it get violent. If one is jealous they won't hide it. Cheesy couple 😤😁
♉ Juno in Taurus: This is what I love to call the chill 🌬️marriage. You guys are so steady and grounded 🥺. You're that couple that buys expensive stuff. Rich and comfortable are the words. After you say yes,you hardly go broke because this marriage has 🤑 and omg you guys look sooooo good together, people might think you guys have more than you actually have. You guys might have met in a restaurant or shopping mall, or an exotic place, or a place filled with products, goods or money. You guys eat healthy tho😁. Marriage is bringing money to upgrade you.
♊👬 Juno in Gemini: This couple can talk for hours♥️. They literally act like siblings. Always laughing at an inside joke🤣. This is the description of high school love 😘. They might have started as friend, met at school or neighborhood and have so many similarities. They're the type to write love letters to each other and roam around town at evenings. Travel short distances together such as going to school together. They're also the type to bicker alot sometimes. Childish couple 💩
♋🦀Juno in Cancer: The homie couple 🫂. Awwn 😊. You guys are so clingy. Your marriage is so sweet and homie. You both love to build a home together in a safe space. So shy🥺. This union makes both of you so empathetic and soft. Even if you are a naturally tough person, this union will soften you. You guys might have met at one of the others house or were introduced through family members.
♌ 🦁 Juno in Leo:The fun and spotlight couple always grinning from ear to ear. You both are people to get married because you derive joy from it or because you want kids so badly not because you see it a duty. Together you both will plan your outings together,make the other more confident. The downfall of this blissful union could arise because of ego or lack of passion.
♍ Juno in Virgo: In health and in sickness, till death do us apart. This Juno reminds me of marriage vows that are kept till the end. This is the marriage that will be there through thick and thin. If poorly aspected by rash planets or houses, it could mean that you guys always fight in your marriage. I know a lady who has this and she and her Husband always be bickering then the next minute they're laughing Wtf 😒😂. It might also mean that you guys may later turn out to be enemies then probably end in conflict or court 😭. I'm sorry ���.
♎ Juno in Libra: This is a marriage!!!!!! 😆. Y'know all those countryside love stories where they meet, fall in love, get married and grow old together 😉. If your 7th lord is also well placed, then it will show a very balanced ⚖️ married life. You and your spouse will be able to settle very comfortably in your marriage with peace of mind 🌬️. The downfall of this union could be a third party interference.
♏ Juno in Scorpio: This is indicating that after marriage you guys might have a joint account/share funds together or keep important/confidential secrets from one another. Don't do that!👀. There's a tendency to get suspicious or jealous easily not because you dont trust them but because you don't want to lose them🥲. You both are passionate about love 💕* wink* 😉
♐ Juno in Sagittarius: When foreigners meet there's always curiosity to explore and understand the world together 🥺. You liked my phrase?😉🤭. Alright, you both might be foreign to one another. I mean that you guys might be from different countries, brought up in different ways or even religion but altogether what brings you together is curiosity/knowledge/adventure. You both might also meet at a place of learning or worship e.g university /church. Somewhere far from home. The marriage itself will be characterized by 😊 fun, learning, morals/religious beliefs or a significant distance between you both (physically or culturally. Don't laugh too much, you might end up falling in love 😂.
♑ Juno in Capricorn: The couple that every one knows is together! or should I say power couple? Your marriage is going to make you high class or put you in a place of authority . You guys might be a celebrity couple or be in the same line of business. Marriage promises stability to you both. With other saturnian aspects inclusive, they might be a significant difference in age or status btw you both. You might get married late too. Make sure you don't get to caught up in the public eye after marriage, people are nosy 💩.
♒ Juno in Aquarius: You and your spouse are similar in many ways . Might be closer than people expect. From my observations, there's some weirdness with this union. I observed this in a chart and Her husband was about 30 years older than her(but it was also conjunct Uranus). People are just really confused about what to say concerning this union.
Another scenario could be that you were first friends then it turned into a love story 🤭 or you both truly were not expecting it to take you guys this far. Maybe it was something casual , then boom 🤯 before you knew it, you were getting married. You might meet online or through friend or big events. Marriage will help you achieve that long term goal
♓ Juno in Pisces:🌬️🍃. Juno in Pisces is the ultimate union of souls 🌬️. You both will never meet another person apart from your partner that will be able to understand you on a deeper level. Your spouse is someone that can be so far away from you, but so near at the same time. You guys might frequently dream bout each other even before meeting. Marriage will make you moreeee spiritual and in tune with other realms . Another scenario (take with a cup of coffee) is that overtime you both can grow apart 😭 due to emotional distance. One might go to jail because of this union (physical or mental) I'm sorry 😔.
@victoryai
#astro observations#astrology#astrology observations#solar return#lunar return#solar return observations#ascendant in solar return chart#astrology community#astro community#©victoryai
1K notes
·
View notes
Text
Takeout times
Request: nah, but this guy won our poll so.
Pairing: Husband!Max Verstappen x Wife!reader
Warnings: FLUFF BABYSSS
Summary:Max's little cuddles and meal time with his wife.
The buzz of the paddock was a distant hum, muffled behind the closed door of Verstappen’s driver room. FP1 had ended with solid data, a clean car, and a familiar shrug from Max—"The car feels good. A little understeer in turn five, but nothing crazy."
But now?
Now was the best part of the day.
You were curled up beside him on the small couch that barely fit two people—though neither of you minded the lack of space. It just meant you had to press in closer, which Max had happily taken advantage of the second the door clicked shut.
Chinese takeout containers were scattered across the little coffee table in front of you, your shared order scribbled with black marker and checkmarks. Max was lazily holding chopsticks in one hand, using them more to poke at his food than eat, while his other arm was wrapped tightly around your waist, keeping you tucked against him.
“I think the sesame chicken is yours,” he murmured, looking down at you with that quiet, sleepy smile he only ever gave you in these private moments.
“Mmm,” you hummed, reaching over and grabbing the box. “You say that like you didn’t already steal half of it.”
“I needed to test it. For quality control.”
You snorted. “You're such a liar, Verstappen.”
He leaned in, his nose brushing against your temple, breath warm as he whispered, “Yeah, but I’m your liar.”
You melted a little, leaning fully into him as your food momentarily became a forgotten background character to the warmth of his hoodie, the sound of his heartbeat under your cheek, and the smell of soy sauce lingering in the air.
Max nudged your chopsticks toward your mouth when he saw you zoning out. “You’ve gotta eat before FP2.”
“You mean you have to eat before FP2,” you corrected, grinning up at him.
“Exactly,” he said with a smirk. “And if you don’t eat, I’ll just worry about you the whole time. Can’t win a session like that.”
You fed him a bite instead. “You’re so dramatic.”
“And you love it.”
You did. Of course you did.
He pulled the blanket tighter over the two of you, the world outside the driver room utterly irrelevant. It didn’t matter that engineers were probably reviewing data or that fans were screaming just outside the barriers.
In here, it was just your husband, who was soft and silly and pressing absentminded kisses to your forehead as you shared spring rolls and small smiles.
“Five more minutes,” he murmured, eyes already fluttering shut. “Just five, and then I’ll go pretend I don’t wish I could just stay here with you.”
You kissed his jaw and curled deeper into his chest. “Five minutes,” you promised. “Or maybe ten.”
He didn’t argue.
A/N: HOPE YOU LIKES IT MY SHAYLAS. I know I'm on break but I had to add this for the weekend. there might be a silly part two but idk yet! sorry Abt it being so short, love you<3
#f1 x reader#f1#formula 1#formula 1 x reader#formula one#red bull racing#max verstappen x reader#husband!max verstappen#wife!reader#fem!reader#fluff#oracle red bull racing
638 notes
·
View notes
Text
Takeout times
Request: nah, but this guy won our poll so.
Pairing: Husband!Max Verstappen x Wife!reader
Warnings: FLUFF BABYSSS
Summary: Max's little cuddles and meal time with his wife.
Notice: Yes, this is from @heyitspapayaontop. That is my main and where I post my fics, but I might consider writing here too. Thank you!
The buzz of the paddock was a distant hum, muffled behind the closed door of Verstappen’s driver room. FP1 had ended with solid data, a clean car, and a familiar shrug from Max—"The car feels good. A little understeer in turn five, but nothing crazy."
But now?
Now was the best part of the day.
You were curled up beside him on the small couch that barely fit two people—though neither of you minded the lack of space. It just meant you had to press in closer, which Max had happily taken advantage of the second the door clicked shut.
Chinese takeout containers were scattered across the little coffee table in front of you, your shared order scribbled with black marker and checkmarks. Max was lazily holding chopsticks in one hand, using them more to poke at his food than eat, while his other arm was wrapped tightly around your waist, keeping you tucked against him.
“I think the sesame chicken is yours,” he murmured, looking down at you with that quiet, sleepy smile he only ever gave you in these private moments.
“Mmm,” you hummed, reaching over and grabbing the box. “You say that like you didn’t already steal half of it.”
“I needed to test it. For quality control.”
You snorted. “You're such a liar, Verstappen.”
He leaned in, his nose brushing against your temple, breath warm as he whispered, “Yeah, but I’m your liar.”
You melted a little, leaning fully into him as your food momentarily became a forgotten background character to the warmth of his hoodie, the sound of his heartbeat under your cheek, and the smell of soy sauce lingering in the air.
Max nudged your chopsticks toward your mouth when he saw you zoning out. “You’ve gotta eat before FP2.”
“You mean you have to eat before FP2,” you corrected, grinning up at him.
“Exactly,” he said with a smirk. “And if you don’t eat, I’ll just worry about you the whole time. Can’t win a session like that.”
You fed him a bite instead. “You’re so dramatic.”
“And you love it.”
You did. Of course you did.
He pulled the blanket tighter over the two of you, the world outside the driver room utterly irrelevant. It didn’t matter that engineers were probably reviewing data or that fans were screaming just outside the barriers.
In here, it was just your husband, who was soft and silly and pressing absentminded kisses to your forehead as you shared spring rolls and small smiles.
“Five more minutes,” he murmured, eyes already fluttering shut. “Just five, and then I’ll go pretend I don’t wish I could just stay here with you.”
You kissed his jaw and curled deeper into his chest. “Five minutes,” you promised. “Or maybe ten.”
He didn’t argue.
A/N: HOPE YOU LIKES IT MY SHAYLAS. I know I'm on break but I had to add this for the weekend. there might be a silly part two but idk yet! sorry Abt it being so short, love you<3
#f1 x reader#f1#formula 1#formula 1 x reader#formula one#red bull racing#max verstappen x reader#husband!max verstappen#wife!reader#fem!reader#fluff#oracle red bull racing
652 notes
·
View notes
Text
To everyone in the art community, please:
Tracing is effective. But only as a learning tool. Telling people "never trace" can be robbing them of methods that could have been effective to their learning process if they'd known about them.
The "art of using tracing" is a bit looked over, so I have five points:
(it's a long one)
1: AS A RULE OF THUMB, DO NOT POST/SHARE TRACED AND STOLEN ARTWORK. This is not only lying to anyone you show it to, if you're trying to come off as, "I'm so good, look at what I did," but most importantly, it's lying to yourself. You'll trick yourself into not needing to get any better, and you will stagnate if you start to rely on tracing as a form of stealing. If you come to realize that you are, you should stop using any tracing methods altogether to keep yourself from abusing it. It's a slippery slope for beginners, and a big reason why you’ll hear almost everyone echo that you just shouldn’t trace at all. The issue is that this ignores the ways that tracing can actually be good.
2: Tracing sets the stage for motor skills/hand-eye coordination. I've seen so many early-stage beginner artists get upset that the art that they make of their favorite character/oc is messy, or maybe they just don't even know what they want to draw and can’t "make themselves mindlessly doodle.” These early arists then become completely disheartened and upset, especially if they start to look at other people for comparison. Tracing over work or even over photos is a way to train your hand to hold and wield a pencil/stylus properly without you being worried about the finished product. Think of it like a way to dip your toe into learning the process of what making art feels like, without having to get overwhelmed with searching up pointers and people telling you, "10 quick tips to become a master artist!!!!!!!" (<- please ignore those) If you’re just beginning, your hand-eye coordination needs to be trained, and you shouldn't bog yourself down so much thinking about end products just yet, so if tracing is the way to get you started, go for it. If you're a bit more experienced, tracing and drawing over reference can also help you warm up without being committal or stressing your art brain too much.
3: Practice "mindful tracing." While I said the previous point was targeted more at beginners, this point is actually about something that experts in their field use. Doing "mindful tracing" over art means that you aren't worried about getting the lines "correct," you're studying why those lines are there. You're taking note of where the shadows meet the highlights based on the light source, how it shows off the forms, and how sharp or soft the lighting is; you're going over the lines of action in the piece to see how your eye is guided by the artist's intention and planning; you're seeing how characters may be stylized into shapes and the feeling that those shapes can give; you're noting how the artist uses line weight or weird blocks of color or stark breaks to split up the art or separate ideas within it; you're experiencing the flow of the poses within the artwork to grasp how that kind of thing feels; you're breaking down the overall composition like in a thumbnail sketch; and the list goes on.
"Mindful tracing" ends up looking like you've marked up an English essay: it should be messy, because the intent with it is not to copy or replicate, it's to notate. It's like how literally writing notes on things helps you remember better than if you only read it. You're acknowledging instead of just looking. And you can always learn, even from styles that you don't intend on actually using. As you get to be more experienced, you may come to realize that you can do "mindful tracing" analyses on artwork without having to literally write over top of the piece, which is great: that means you're improving your creative brain, and prepping it to be able to break down your own works in this way as you make them.
4: Trace for specific character or style studying. For this point, I want to especially stress that this is what makes everyone say, "don't trace," because this is what tracing is most commonly associated with: art theft. There's really no excusable reason to repost someone's art in this way.
I feel like you have to be a bit more experienced to properly use tracing specifically for style studies. The benefits that come with tracing a certain style is that it can quite literally teach your hand/brain to recognize the patterns that are present. You get a feel for how far apart a specific characters eyes are, how big their hands are, how the shapes of the body make up their form, how the exaggeration in the expressions feel, and when traced you know you have all of these proportions correct. This makes it so much easier to start drawing the specific character on your own if you know that you have a correct baseline (and of course you should still use reference from then on). When you study many different characters of the same style, you can start to grasp what actually makes up this style that you're studying, where -similar to point #3- you train your art brain to recognize the original artists' intentions and ideas. I would even argue that doing this is MORE IMPORTANT than using reference at the very beginning of a style study, because it makes you worry less about if you're pulling from the reference correctly and instead lets you focus on the original art by thinking through it during the process; this kind of thing is done by professionals. Although tracing can net you these benefits for studies, it is not a way to get around the rest of the learning process, which is the pitfall that normally ends up making tracing ineffective.
5: Lastly, I actually kind of lied about tracing "only being good as a learning tool." The other case where tracing gets used is within the process of making hand drawn animation, and I do mean the professional stuff. Model guides are constantly used in classic animation as reference to keep by the animator's side so that characters stay on model, but sometimes there are unnoticeable parts of a character that just get straight-up traced from either the model sheet or a different scene that's already animated. When used smartly and sparingly, this keeps the character on model, is unidentifiable to the audience, and takes up less time for the animators to work (and by "used smartly" I don't mean moments where characters blatantly have 5 seconds of reused animation). I can basically guarantee that this practice was done throughout the making of any 2D project you can think of.
In digital hand drawn art, key frames between points in an animation may get the "shift and trace" treatment, where the tween frame is just a smudged-around-version of the key frames until it looks about right, and then it get traced over. Backgrounds get traced all the time by artists in the professional field through modelling a 3D render of the space, going over it so they have the layout, and then painting on top of it. When drawing characters, people will take photos of themselves and trace the pose, then keep it to the side as reference. And this is all without even mentioning rotoscoping.
When people say, "don't trace," what they actually mean is, "don't trace as a substitute for experience."
The issue is that people blanketly state, "x thing is bad," because then people that aren't learned in the field go, "oh, okay, x thing is bad, it will always be bad, I shouldn't look into it or consider it any more, and I should correct/disgrace anyone that thinks otherwise or does x thing."
So please. Trace. Tell other people to trace. But remember: trace mindfully. :)
574 notes
·
View notes
Note
The results of the election has been absolutely devastating and terrifying and I wanted to pop in and say thank you. Firstly, for what your work has meant to me over the years. Broken earth resonated with me in a way no other piece of media has. Essun has lived in me ever since I finished the series, and I hope to get a tattoo of her as a stone eater at some point. More relevantly to how I started this, however, I wanted to thank you because your work has given me solace twice over in dealing with the world right now. With the world feeling like it’s falling apart and the future so uncertain, thinking of broken earth reminded me that even when the world is ending around us there are still people and things worth fighting for. Secondly, nearly all of my comfort media deals with antfascist or antiracist themes, and it’s felt all either too real to engage with, or hopeful in a way that felt too bitter given the state of things. I had started relistening to the city we became just before the election, and I had to stop for a bit because the hope in that story felt like more than I could bear. I hesitantly picked it back up saturday as I was walking to meet someone, and it surprised me by having the opposite effect. Seeing all of us — queers, jews, people of color — at the forefront and fighting reminded me that we are out there, that we won’t give up, that while we live the fight is not yet over. So I just wanted to say thank you for giving me some much needed hope and strength in these bleak times.
I am always astonished, and honored, when people tell me my work has this kind of effect on them. Thank you. It's good to know I've helped, even if only in spirit, and even if only a little.
As for the rest -- yeah. I feel you. I'm going to forego sharing my own feelings about all this; they're too raw, and I express myself best through my fiction, anyway. But I resolved something a few days ago, and I'll at least share this: I am not letting these motherfuckers steal my joy. There is too much beauty in the world, and too many people who are worthy of my time and attention, for me to waste more time/energy than I must on people who aren't. I will protect whom I can including myself, fight back where I can, but I am also just going to live my goddamn life, because therein lies the fuel I need to keep fighting.
So if you're getting some of that fuel from my work, wonderful. Get more from wherever else you need to -- with caution as you must, but without guilt or fear.
Take care.
416 notes
·
View notes
Note
Can we pls have some fae!price or viking!price? I'm so traumatized by your divorced price au, I need some sort of aftercare.
viking!price because I haven't written for him in ages and there is a definite... ooooh I wanna throttle him vibe (just do it my man, steal your woman, she wants you to)
John's hand finds the small of your back as the doctor turns with Soap. His thumb carves a path across your furs, slicing through the heavy layers to warm your skin with a simple motion. You keep your eyes focused on the horizon, distant lands that the spirits seem determined to kill him for haunt your mind. Bloodshed follows that hand, guided by your own orders. Every hardship that has haunted his life has come from your lips. Yet he looks at you with a weight you can feel, his eyes caressing your cheek as your chest tightens.
There is much to unload, you think. The heavy crates that are traded between men hit the ground hard even from such a short distance. Vikings groan with the exertion of it, men who could do with a soft mattress and the affection of their wives.
"No casualties," You broach the topic, though you already know the answer.
"None." John hums, "Soap found the village right where you said it would be."
"And no one put up a fight?" You already know this much as well, but John is silent for a long moment. When you look up at him there's a telling sadness in his eyes. "They were dead." You answer for him.
"They were."
The spirits. They may guide your intuition, but they are hesitant to fill in details. You should have known it wasn't going to be as easy as they said it would be. No one lets their people be taken without a fight, no one accepts an offer without sacrifice.
"That's why the ship is full." You mutter. Nothing was traded. No rations were shared, no furs gifted, no brothership extended. You doubt they even buried the dead. You force the tears back from your eyes. For someone who deals with death every day you shouldn't be so tender hearted. You swallow the grief that follows the ship, and partition it off from the rest of you.
"Well," You do your best to brighten your mood, though you don't know how to follow through, "Well-" you falter, your smile twitching with the weight of itself.
"I brought you something," John offers, a change in the conversation. You twist the little silver band on your finger, flitting your gaze away from John's. He knows better than to gift you something publicly.
He steps around you, standing too closely in front of you. Shielding you from unfamiliar ravens. Your own companion chatters noisily for him atop your walking stick and John reaches to pet a finger down its beak.
"I missed you," John tells the raven. You smile to yourself, enjoying the soft edge of his usually rough voice. You're sure a man so used to shouting orders finds his throat unfamiliar territory when whispering sweet words. They warm you all the same.
It's only when John bows his head, bumping his forehead against yours that you reach your open hand to grip the fur lining his cloak, encircling the two of you. He drops his stroking finger to grip your staff, just above your own fingers. It reminds you of the marriage ceremonies you perform, of clasped hands that will never find each other. John's other hand tugs at the pouch on his hip, his fist is clenched when he removes it.
You're unwilling to release your grip on him, and he doesn't ask you to. Instead, he finds your own purse; you hold your breath as he slips his hand inside to deposit his prize. He's careful to assure it's settled before he tightens the strings again. John's head tips, his lips brushing your forehead as he pulls away. Your fingers seem to be the last to leave, lingering to pet the pelt that warms him.
"I'll stop by after I meet the elders," He promises, and you give him an assuring smile.
You carry a heavy purse back to your home, leaving the Vikings to their work in a desperate attempt not to seem like you're waiting for something. When you pull the little wooden statue free you can feel the runes carved in the bottom of it. Your stomach tightens just seeing the thing, but nausea boils as you turn it over.
"For now" the little wooden cat tells you. "For now."
#x reader#cod x reader#x oc#cod x oc#oc: witch#captain john price#captain johnathan price#john price#captain price#captain price x reader#john price x reader#price cod#john price cod#price call of duty#price x reader#f!reader#viking au
147 notes
·
View notes
Text
♢ I own you, I love you | Tartaglia
warnings: yandere, dub/con, male m.asturbation, violence, threats, corruption, unrealistic sound-isolation, delusional thoughts, possessive behavior (from childe), childe/tartaglia lore-spoilers, canon divergence (maybe?), misunderstanding/miscommunication, manipulative behavior (from ajax) , unreliable narrator (ajax), ask to tag more.
pairing: afab! fem! reader x childe
word count: 10.7k
a/n: after months... here it is;; i'm so sorry for taking so long (tt),, i'll make it up to you !! istg (huhuh)
— 18+
You had trouble falling asleep ever since the day Ajax went missing.
It was meant to be yet another normal day, one that would blend in with all the others – muddled with other memories of childhood. Instead, it became the day your life began to change in ways you hadn’t even fathomed possible.
It had heavily snowed the previous night, which left a brand new layer of pure white to cover the humble roads of Morepesok. Normally, after such a heavy storm, you and Ajax would go over to his house and play inside – making use of the fireplace his father had built and hot chocolate his mother would make to keep warm. You both would steal his father’s diary and read about his adventures across Teyvat, recreating the scenes in your minds with yourselves as the main characters, before sharing your dreams with one another.
You never had the courage back then to tell him your ideal adventure was a rather simple one, while you always dreamt of moving to a less snowy nation, one like Mondstatd or even Sumeru, you were content with peacefully traveling across Teyvat before settling down. You didn’t want to spend your life fighting monsters and exploring the world, you only really longed for a simple life, where you could work a safe job and create a new home for yourself and those you loved. It was fun to imagine yourself on a long, rewarding journey across the nation to complete a request, but you’d rather keep it as just that – a figment of your imagination.
Ajax, on the other hand, longed for the chance to become a warrior. While never too skilled with the blade, always too nervous to even kill an animal, his determination was enough to convince you he’d one day make a great adventurer like his father. He’d longed for the thrill of exploring every corner of Teyvat, roaming the land until there was nowhere in this world where he hadn’t been to. Meeting new people, learning about new cultures, fighting monsters and gaining the freedom that came with being an adventurer; Ajax’s dreams had been clear from a young age.
A part of you, albeit really, insignificantly small, always wished he’d never succeed, secretly hoping he’d leave those ambitions behind with age and become a fisherman or craftsman instead. You’d heard tales of men and women who’d joined the Adventurer’s Guild only to never come back, and even more about those who’d joined the Fatui’s ranks, and you didn’t like the idea of waking up one day to find out he’d passed in a foreign land. It was selfish, you knew that, but you hoped that maybe he’d choose a safer option, one where you two could live together, away from the cold winters of Snezhnaya and safe from the dangers of the world. Maybe you’d both move away from Morepesok, find a quaint town in Fontaine where you’d both settle down and continue being friends, or maybe more, with no worries for each other’s safety - only busy being happy and healthy.
While you were putting on your boots and coat, making sure to layer as many clothes as you could to avoid the freezing cold temperatures that came with such heavy snowfall, you remember feeling an odd sense of uneasiness, a queasy feeling settling down in your stomach making you feel sick and nauseous. At the time you had thought nothing of it, too focused on meeting up with your friend and the taste of his mother’s hot coco, but now, years later, you think it was the Tsaritsa’s way to warn you for what was to come.
You remember nearing his house, confused as to why he hadn’t met you halfway down the road like he always did. It was quiet, eerily so, only the sound of your boots and your labored breath as you battled your way through the snow. There were no kids out on the street, all the adults that would normally be on their way were missing, even the birds seemed hesitant to chirp.
Instead, you find his mother worriedly looking around the perimeters of their humble cabin, her normally neat appearance now disheveled. Her long, ginger hair was half-hazardly put up, her clothes were wrinkled, her coat wasn’t even buttoned up all the way, but she stood there, frantically looking around.Whenever you’d come over, you and Ajax would always bump into one another before racing home to see who’d get there first, but today there was his mother’s choked sobs where normally his laughter would ring.
“Auntie?” You asked, running the rest of the way as you saw her expression, the closer you got the clearer the worry in her face became and you felt yourself grow anxious.
“Sweetie,” she looks at you in surprise, not having seen you approaching - too preoccupied to hear your unsteady footsteps as you struggled to run towards her, you see her blue eyes frantically look behind you and you follow suit, “A-Ajax, he wouldn’t have been with you, right?”
“No…” You shake your head, the previous feeling in your stomach expanding across your body, your head felt fuzzy as you asked, “Isn’t he home?”
“I… I’m afraid not,” She looks distressed at your words, her eyes water as she ushers you inside while still trying to look around to see if she caught sight of her son’s bright ginger hair against the cold white that coated the roads, her hands are shaking as she holds yours and brings you into her home, “Come inside, come inside – it’s too cold out t-there, you’ll get sick.”
Behind you, you hear more people arrive, you’re almost certain you hear your parents as well, but you have no time to ask before the worried mother shakes her head at the curious adults that looked up at her – the atmosphere worsens at the realization he hadn’t snuck out to be with you, she tries to occupy herself by taking you inside so as to not give into hopelessness.
You’re confused, not too sure of what’s going on even as you see adults from around the village inside of the house, maps in their hands as they whisper about the boy’s possible whereabouts.
“Is Ajax… o-okay?” You ask, you start to feel afraid as you process their concerned faces, seeing all of these adults who’d always been smiling and assured look so worried and uncertain sent a chill down your spine.
Where was Ajax? Normally he’d be here, assuring you your imagination was running wild and that nothing was wrong, the empty space next you where he’d normally be felt awfully cold.
Nobody answers you, instead you’re taken to your friend’s room where his siblings were gathered. Their mom, who you've always called your auntie, kneels down in front of you, taking your smaller hands into hers and giving you a weak smile.
“Ajax will be fine, okay?” Her words are meant to comfort you but you feel like they’re more for herself in that moment, “He’s just… gone out for a while, but he’ll be back before you know it.”
You nod, not truly understanding what she meant but feeling as if that was the response she needed to hear.
She gives your forehead a small kiss, you feel a tear fall travel down her cheeks and into your hair but you say nothing as she leaves, noting how she desperately tried to conceal the tears in her eyes; You’d never seen her cry before and it’s only then, as you look at his siblings and the pained look in their faces, that you finally begin to grasp the severity of the situation.
He was missing. Your best friend was gone and no one had any idea where he had run off to.
That evening your parents came over and stayed the whole day with Ajax’s family, alongside the other townspeople who went and came as they searched for the young boy in the woods around the area. Normally, you had to fight tooth and nail to let them grant you permission to stay over but that night they’d been the ones to offer it first.
That night was the first and only time you had a sleepover without Ajax. You and his siblings huddled together in the living room, next to the fireplace as his mother looked over you all. You would wake up every so often to the sound of people coming and going as the search efforts seeped into the night and early morning.
The suffocating cycle repeated itself for three days. Three days, two nights, and one afternoon later, after countless hours crying to your parents in fear of losing your best friend; Ajax emerges from the woods in one piece, but he who returns is not the same boy.
The first thing that stood out was his disheveled hair, he was wearing the same clothes – which were in too good a condition for a kid who’d gotten lost in the woods by himself for three days –, and the hunting knife he’d stolen from his dad now dull as if it’d been used continuously for a long period of time. What shocked the men and women who’d found him was the blood on him – specks decorated his face and hands as he looked up at them from his position near the corpse of a bear, one easily three times his size, he’d somehow taken out.
They’d found him in a clearing close to his house, the smell of blood had been what had alerted the rescue party – they’d prepared for the worst case scenario where the blood came from Ajax’s body, instead they found him to be in good shape even after three days by himself in the wild – perhaps a little too good, for it seemed he’d somehow taken down a beast by himself with his hands and his father’s old hunting knife.
The news of his return quickly spreads, everyone gathered near his home as they awaited with bated breaths to see the young boy; you’re there as he’s reunited with his family, hugging your mother’s leg as tightly as you could.
Rumors spread about him having killed an animal, some claimed it had been a rabbit while others alleged it had been a beast the size of a horse, and you wondered if they had mistaken another kid for Ajax – he’d never had the guts to harm even a fly, you doubted he’d changed so much in the span of three days. But it seemed as if you’d been wrong.
He doesn’t shed a tear, he doesn’t say a word. Not even a squeak as his parents coddle him; nothing at all. The only sounds are hushed whispers as people discuss the absurd situation and gleeful congratulations from onlookers as they celebrate his arrival and well being while giving his family well wishes. Instead, his blue eyes find yours and you’re unnerved at the empty look in them. Where there’s once been a warm light, you found an empty void that seemingly sucked you in and refused to let you go. You felt goosebumps arise all over your body the longer he looked at you. Even as he’s embraced within his father’s arms, his family surrounding him as they cry from relief, it’s only when he makes eye contact with you that, the first time since arriving, he smiles.
You feel a chill travel down your spine as you realize Ajax hadn’t been the one to return that day. You unconsciously nestled closer into your mother’s coat, as if trying to hide from his unnerving gaze.
You did your best to ignore that unsettling feeling, opting to attribute it to the rumors you had heard instead of something your friend had done, you pushed it and as well as any doubts aside as you attempted to focus on the good news; he was here, home with his family and back next door to your own house, and that was all that really mattered.
Ever since then, he’d become more confident. His once timid personality completely disappeared and the days where you had been the stronger one, defending him from his older siblings’ teasing and the mocking from other kids, were now but hazy memories. The roles had switched quite suddenly, not that you minded it too much – there were times where it felt nice to be the one being protected rather than the protector, but it had been quite the surprise at first.
He’d become bolder and more protective, never afraid to throw a punch (and sometimes even more) if he felt like you had been disrespected. It came to a point where you’d sometimes grow suffocated by his mere presence; eventually it escalated to where he’d never let you hang out with anybody he didn’t approve of, afraid they’d hurt you and he wouldn’t be there to defend you, and he’d make sure to let it be known you were his friend first and foremost. Unknowingly, a set of rules had been implemented between the two of you. Rules that stated you were his responsibility to protect and care for, even if it meant it drove others away and left you two isolated from other kids your age.
There were times you missed the Ajax that’d gone into the woods, the freckled boy who was timid and polite – who’d rather be teased by his siblings than hurt even a bug the size of your pinky, you doubt that boy would have picked fights with kids twice his size because they’d made a joke or two that didn’t land too well. But you hesitated to dislike the new Ajax, after all, when it was only the two of you - it was as if that damned day had never occurred at all.
He was back to the sweet, delicate boy who’d blush at your jokes and avoid prolonged eye contact. Whose hand would grow warm from holding yours, who’d confess his feelings to you every night when he thought you’d fallen asleep.
A few years later, once you were both older – now settled into your teen years, he ended up joining the Fatui and leaving your humble seaside village to go to the capital to train as a soldier.
You cried the day he’d given you the news. As overbearing as he could be, the ginger had been your only friend that your parents consistently let you hang out with, you’d spent your whole lives together and the thought of being without him terrified you greatly.
You remember the look on his face, the way he desperately tried to look strong and not let a single tear get away, his hands that had once been soft were now calloused as he grabbed your own.
“I’ll come back for you, I promise.” He’d whispered, his lips near your ear as he enveloped you in a hug.
You don’t trust your voice not to break and so you nod, letting your nose burn from trying to contain your sobs and not worry him more than he already was.
“A-and I’ll write you letters, so you better not forget me,” he continues, and even if by now he’d long since grown taller than yourself – you’re amazed at how small and vulnerable he felt against your frame, “so please… wait for me.”
“Only if you always write to me first… ‘Cause I swear I’ll leave if you forget.” You try to lighten the mood, halfheartedly warning him as if you both didn’t know it’d take death itself for Ajax not to fulfill a promise from him to you. He tightens his arms around you and you feel a wave of nostalgia wash over you as you wonder how long it’ll be before you can both hug like this again.
“I promise.” He laughs softly, the sound warms your heart.
“Then I promise as well.”
Ever since the day Ajax went missing, you have had trouble falling asleep.
When you did manage to fall asleep, a task which took longer than you’d like to admit without external factors such as medicine, your dreams would be strange and cryptic, often times you’d wake up in the middle of the night with a racing heartbeat and a sense of urgency, as if you’d been in danger; you’d learned to hate the images your brain would concoct during your rest. Some nights, you’d dream about that day and what would have happened if Ajax had never been found, other times you’d open the door to soldiers grieving his death; whatever tragic scenario your mind decided to present you, it would always be so realistic you’d wake up with tears streaming down your cheeks and a devastated heart.
This time, however, your sleep had come easier than expected and there were no dreams or nightmares to haunt you. No earthly worries were present and, after such an unexpected day filled with reunions and world-shattering news, you wished to succumb to a never ending night; however, the fates had other plans for you.
As you’re forcibly awakened from your slumber you feel a familiar, pleasant hand gently caressing your head. It felt gentle, their touch delicate and sweet, as if they were afraid any more force would hurt you. If the owner of said limb wished to lure you into consciousness, their touch had the opposite effect as it almost seemed to beg you to go back to sleep and forget the world of the living.
You felt truly content as you laid there, the blanket that laid atop of you was heavy and cozy, a foreign feeling - nothing like the blankets you were used to, and the pillow smelt like an old friend, welcoming and nostalgic. It all felt like a perfect trap set out to catch you, if that were that case then you’d have to admit it was a little too good at its job as you resign yourself to cuddling closer to the fabrics that enveloped you.
If it hadn’t been for the gentle kiss pressed against your cheek, you probably would have never gotten up. You want to complain, already formulating a sentence of indignation and annoyance to throw at the perpetrator, but the warmth left behind by the gesture is cozy and fills you with a taste full of happiness and fulfillment you don’t want to sour. At the feeling of a pair of unknown, soft lips against your skin you become more alert, slowly your consciousness begins to enter the realm of the living once more while you grow aware of your surroundings. Your eyes open timidly, the leftover fatigue from such a deep rest keeping them heavy, it takes you a second or two to adjust to the light and another few to register the man that lovingly gazed down on you.
“Ajax…?” You call out, rubbing your eyes as you wonder if it really was him. You’re almost sure you’re dreaming, as embarrassing as it was to admit, it had been so long since you’d seen him in person you may have simply gone crazy and imagined the man to be here; You’re about to ask him what he was doing here, if he were real at all, but he beats you to the punch with a smile before answering you with a gleeful tone that reminds you of summers long gone.
“The one and only,” he laughs gently as the hand that laid atop your head began to ruffle your hair in a familiar gesture – reassuring you that he was, in fact, a real person and not a figment of your imagination you had come up with to deal with the loneliness, “… don’t tell me you forgot about earlier.”
He teases you, but there’s a hint of worry in his eyes as he awaits your answer; surely, you couldn’t have forgotten. It’d only been a couple of hours and he had been sure to be as thorough as possible so that he left a print on both your mind and body, there was no way you’d forget making love with your soulmate. Just the thought of it sent jolts of anger and frustration down his spine, not at you - never at you, but at himself as he wonders if maybe he’d underperformed and disappointed you to the point you’d try and act like nothing had happened. If that was the case, he was more than willing to go again just this instant to right any previous wrongs.
“Earlier?” You mumble, you wreck your brain trying to think of what he meant but it isn’t a full minute before you realize what he meant. If it hadn’t been for his words, maybe his coat laying on you and your sore body would have been enough to eventually jog your memory. You feel your cheeks grow hot as you remember what you two had done earlier, you’d been so tired by the end you’d fallen into a deep, dreamless slumber that momentarily left you empty-headed when you woke up, but now the memories are rushing in and you doubt you’ll be able to forget the feeling of Childe on top of you for a long time.
Your embarrassed gaze was enough for him to know you’d remembered the dance you’d both partaken in earlier that day, the way your eyes avoided his had his heart swooning and a warm, fuzzy feeling settling deep within his very soul.
He feels himself calm down the more he looks at your flustered face, his whole body light and intoxicated on your sweet expressions; his pants felt so tight as he watched you fiddle with his coat, he wonders if he’d be able to warm you up on the ride back to his place the same way he’d done so previously.
You were absolutely adorable to him, so very weak and fragile in comparison to him – if he wasn’t such a gentleman, he would have loved to destroy you until you were too scared to leave his side. Alas, he decided that you shouldn’t be the one to face the sharp end of his blade, instead, he’ll scar your psyche and those around you so violently you’ll have no want nor need for anything else other than him.
“So, ‘slept well, my love?” He asks, his tone sweet as to never betray his darker thoughts — you didn’t have to know about how deeply he wished to break you until you couldn’t function without him by your side. You nod while suppressing a yawn, blissfully unaware of the chaos that was unfolding due to the man in front of you, and he laughs, content with your naïveté; he missed you oh so very much, “That’s good.”
There’s a warm, almost euphoric feeling that invaded your senses as you both took the time to enjoy each other’s presence; it felt different from earlier, something had changed now that you both had finally indulged in each other’s bodies. It felt akin to drinking a warm cup of tea, comforting and pleasurable, a reminder of home and the feeling of familiarity after a long period of impersonal and foreign coldness.
“Let’s get going then,” he breaks the silence, finally standing up from his crouching position, he gives you one last pat in the head before he starts making his way through your room and inspecting your belongings – or what remained of your belongings, “the carriage will be here soon, it’s only an hour long ride away but I think it’s best we take as much as we can today and send someone to pick up what remains.”
That’s when you notice he’s fully dressed, other than for his cape that was laid on you, as if he was anxiously awaiting the time to leave. You’re confused; why was he so keen on leaving and so fastly – he’d barely been here a handful of hours. Did you misunderstand his intentions?
“What do you…?” You ask, you rub your eyes while you sit up, using the large coat as a cover once you feel chilly Snezhnayan air hit your sensitive skin. It’s then that you can finally look at the many bags and boxes that litter the floor, and the almost empty room you laid in. All of your belongings seemed to have been packed away, almost nothing remained other than old family portraits and gifts from your parents from across the years.
“Huh?” The sight of your room packed into boxes was enough to wake you up, you instinctively try to stand up but a firm hand keeps you in place; you look up and see Ajax looking down at you. Your eyes meet and a chill goes up your spine at the look in his, they look eerily empty. You barely feel the coat slip from your shoulders, too focused on the feeling of his fingers against your forearm and the fact he, as a soldier, could easily overpower you if he wished.
“You’re still sleepy, aren’t you?” He asks, the muscles on his arm flex slightly as he speaks to you - he sounds disappointed as he continues interrogating you, “Do you really not remember?”
You shake your head, trying to wrack your brain for any indications of what he could be referring to; you remember the news about your parents and what happened after, but moving out? You have no memory of such a thing being even discussed, lest he meant —
“You agreed to marry me,” he says, as if reading your mind, your arm is finally set free as he adjusts the gloves on his hands, “and as my wife, you’ll be living with me from now on; I assumed you wouldn’t want to stay… here for much longer, considering everything.”
“Marry you…?” You echo as you watch him parade around your room, sharp eyes taking in what was left of your belongings on display. You vaguely remember his proposal during the first half of your conversation, something about how it’d serve as an obstacle for the arranged marriage – after all, it’s not as if the wife of a Fatui Harbinger’s marriage could be easily questioned or objected to. You had agreed almost immediately, even if you had your doubts about the reasoning behind the arrangement, you’d rather marry someone you knew than a stranger.
You wished you’d thought things through better, waited a bit longer before giving your answer. Clearly Ajax had made up his mind but now, after the shock of the news began to wear off, you felt like you owed your parents and yourself a discussion. Even if you felt betrayed, like their decision degraded you to an object instead of their daughter, you wanted to head their side; if only to get closure for your own aching heart.
Instead of answering you, Ajax turns around to meet your eyes. His eyes had always had the ability to suck you in like a void, they’re never clear - always muddy, like there was a side of himself he hid from you; you could never find your reflection on them. It took you a while to get used to them, to their empty, numb look that sent chills down your spine all those years ago.
The room feels small as you both look at each other, you sit on the bed naked and he stands in front of the door as if he were trapping you in, it’s silent and intimate and it makes your skin crawl. His expression is one you can’t read, maybe all those years in the Fatui had taught him how to make his enemies cower thanks to his presence alone, because the harder you tried to understand what his gaze meant, the less you felt you knew about him.
“Yes, you said you’d marry me.” He states and, even if it wasn't phrased as such, it felt more like an order than a recalling of events.
“I know,” you mumble, “and I… I like you, Ajax, I really do, and I’d love to be with you, but… but I can’t run away from this without hearing them out, you know?”
“You said you loved me.” His expression changes into a frown; Had you lied to him?
He probably sounds childish, his sentences short and repetitive like that of a toddler throwing a tantrum, but the truth was he simply couldn’t believe that you’d even hesitate to marry him; his brain completely short-circuited as he tries to understand why on Earth you’d ever think of giving anybody a chance when you had him.
“I mean, I-I do,” your cheeks feel hot as you’re quick to answer, at least you think you love him, “but… mom and dad wouldn’t just do this without a reason and you know that. I can’t just leave and never see them again without their explanation, even if it’s bad… I need some sort of closure; I can’t accept they’d just do this to me for no reason.”
“As if that changed anything, they gave your hand away for Mora, my love” He retorts, completely bewildered at your words; they’d tried to give you away to some lowlife, they hadn’t consulted you, they were going to spring it up on you one day and expect you to get over it the next, “Does a reason even matter?”
“It does, at least I… I think it does,” you look down at yourself and notice droplets falling down against the coat, staining the heavy leather with your sorrow, you were crying and hadn’t even realized it, “I don’t want to hate them… I don’t want them to hate me.”
He goes quiet when he catches sight of your tears. He freezes, his chest tightens and he feels himself grow dizzy – it’s the same foreign feeling he got when he first heard of the engagement, he feels his knees buckle under his weight and himself sway with every step he takes in your direction. They were beautiful, your tears, so delicate and clear, they shone like crystals when the soft afternoon light came through the window just right; he wishes he could collect them in his palm and weave a necklace to keep with himself, a reminder of your fragile heart he desperately needed to protect.
You looked so vulnerable, naked and crying, covered only by his coat. It was an intoxicating sight, he wished he could take a photograph and engrave it on his eyelids so every time he blinked he’d see this scene play out. You broke so beautifully, it was haunting to hear your voice break into sobs and wails as you mourned the life you thought you had, but it sounded beautiful to his ears nonetheless. It makes him feel insane, it was taking too much self-control from his part not to jump on you.
He sits down once more next to you, shaking limbs trapping you in his arms as he rubbed your back softly. As you cried uncontrollably, he found his cheeks hurting from the large grin on his face; it couldn’t be helped, no matter how much he tried to will it away, the joy he felt as he saw you cry was too much for him to hide.
“It’s okay,” he makes no effort to quell your fears, instead he chooses vague words of comfort to let it fester in your heart, “you won’t need to see them ever again, you’ll have me instead.”
He feels you hiccup, too deep in your own despair to formulate words. Your shaking body clings to his, you felt so scared and alone; How were you supposed to accept such a cruel, unforgiving truth? What could you possibly do to ease the pain in your heart as you thought about your parents and siblings, who had so easily given you away to a stranger. They felt so far away from you, it felt as if your whole life had been a long dream, nothing but a fantasy you were unaware could break any second, leaving you afraid and confused as you awakened to a reality you could have never seen coming.
“Come, I’ll help you get dressed,” Ajax helps you up as he speaks, essentially forcing you to face reality and displace the fogginess in your mind, he’s gentle as he makes his way with you to your closet - you vaguely note that it was still full, unlike the rest of your room it seemed he hadn’t touched it save for a few drawers here and there -, “the sooner you get ready,” he keeps an arm around you while he goes through the rack of your clothes, making sure you stay close to him, “the sooner we can get out of here.”
You nod, your head hurts but you can’t seem to stop the tears.
Maybe he was right, maybe it was a bad idea for you to talk to them; there was truly no excuse, was there? You doubted anything they’d say would take the feeling of betrayal away, they had treated you like an object, completely forfeiting your own personhood and giving you away to a stranger for Mora. No matter how desperately you wanted to understand what they’d done and why they’d done it, the more your head and heart hurt – it was such a cruel, heartless thing to do, to throw away your own blood to whoever bid the highest for them.
You can’t even muster the strength to facilitate the Harbinger’s task of dressing you, your whole body felt heavy as he made sure to layer on your clothes, it was near impossible for you to even stand up by yourself without your legs swaying and your knees buckling under your weight. It’s only due to the ginger’s persistence and strength that you don’t collapse.
By the time you’re ready and boarding the carriage, you’re tired and too drunk in your own misery, to question why, even as it neared nighttime, your parents nor your siblings hadn’t come home yet. Not that you cared, at least not right now, seeing them was the last thing you wanted to do.
The ride home is peaceful, you’d fallen asleep early on and laid beside Childe as he caressed your sleeping cheek and gazed out the window. Your head laid on his lap, broad thighs becoming a make-shift pillow for the ride, a blanket covering your body to keep you warm while you both made your way to his residence in the capital through the cold night.
Bored, deep blue eyes mindlessly gaze at the scenery passing by, his thoughts too jumbled together for him to admire the scenery. His thoughts stray back to your mother’s horrified face as she walked in on you together in bed earlier, he chuckles to himself as he recalls the screech she let out; it felt nice to see her so uncomfortable, but it wasn’t nice enough he’d forgive her for what she’d tried to do to you; Separate you from him.
“Ajax?” She finally gasps out, her hand points at him in an accusatory manner, “What… what is going on?”
When did that boy come back? He’d been gone for years, the last she remembered him was as a young teenager going off to join the Fatui; what was he doing in bed with you? You hadn’t mentioned him once during all these years, she had thought you’d long since forgotten about him. So why on Earth was he laying in bed with you - naked? Had he pressured you to do so? You two had such a close relationship, there was no way you wouldn’t have mentioned him to her if you two were dating - her mind was racing with a million thoughts and all of them left her worried and confused. It’s clear she’s not doing well, her breaths are visibly unsteady, her chest rising and falling unevenly while she audibly gasped for air, she’s shaking so hard you can see her knees wobble as she tries to steady herself against the doorframe; this wasn’t something she could have ever seen in coming.
Ajax couldn’t care less, the whole spectacle was boring and wholly unnecessary; she wouldn’t get to see you ever again, she should be grateful he hadn’t simply taken you home with him the minute he saw you.
“I came back for my beloved,” he answers carelessly, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world, he makes a vague gesture towards your sleeping form as if to make the point clearer, “can’t have a wedding without a bride, after all.”
“Wedding? You and her… are getting married?”
“Yes, is it that hard to understand? Come on, ma’am, everyone could see that she and I were going to get married,” he scoffs, “you said so yourself multiple times.”
“But,” she looks visibly confused, “that was back when you two were together everyday, Ajax… you haven’t seen each other in years. You can’t seriously think that you’re getting married because you both said so when you were children.”
The audacity this woman had was near parody, clearly she knew nothing about you nor your life and it made him feel sick. She had the privilege to be a constant part of your life during all those years he was away and yet she clearly spent them doing Archons’ knows what, he was growing visibly angry the more she spoke.
“We’ve known each other long enough,” he shoots her a glare, “and I’ve known my whole life I’d marry her, whether we’ve been seeing each other everyday or not - we’re getting married and that’s final.”
“Did she agree to this?” Your mother asks, her voice rising until it was near a squeak.
“Of course she agreed to marry me!” He snaps, his tone venomous; Could she just shut the hell up already?
“Then why didn’t she mention it to her father nor myself?”
“Because we agreed to get married today,” he puts your sleeping body aside, slowly standing up and tying a loose blanket around his hips, “and neither of you were here.”
“Today?” She echos, “You came back today and asked her to marry you?”
“Yes, that’s exactly what I did,” he shoots her a glance as he picks up his clothes, slowly putting them on as he goes on, “and she said yes, I think you get the point by now.”
“You have got to be kidding me,” she mumbled to herself, she made her way inside the room, careful as to not wake you up, “there’s no way she was serious about marrying you. You… you’re practically a stranger to all of us at this point, Ajax.”
His pants were on at this point, his blouse now balled into his fist as he tried to control his annoyance. This was starting to get pathetic on her end.
“I will have you know,” he interrupts her, turning around to make eye contact with the woman once more to make his point clear, “that not only have we been in constant communication since I left, she agreed quite happily to the proposal - I don’t understand what exactly is not clicking, ma’am.”
“Of course she’d agree,” she exclaims, her hands flying up in desperation as she continues, “she has liked you all her life; but were you two dating until this point? What even was the relationship between you two; how am I supposed to support her getting engaged with a man we haven’t seen or heard from in years. Never once did she mention you, Ajax, she never spoke of a partner much less a marriage, all her life she’s made it clear that’s one of the least of her concerns and you want me to believe her mind changed in one day because you came and had sex with her? You’re insane if you think I’ll allow it.”
He feels himself freeze, most of what she’s said up until now feels like background noise the moment he finishes processing her words. You never mentioned him to your parents? He knew you hadn’t mentioned the letters, not all of them at least - he’s asked you not to, but never once in the almost eight years since he left had you mentioned him - not even as a potential suitor nor as a lover. That hag is lying, right? There’s no way you’d do this to him, right? You loved him, you said you did when he was fucking you just minutes ago, you wouldn’t lie to him, no.
“Listen to me, I don’t care if you want to get married to her - but there’s an order to how things are done,” your mother shoots your sleeping form a glance, “you could have at least let us know beforehand you’d be coming, you… you should have spoken to us; you know we would have given you our blessing if you’d waited a bit longer. This is the first time you’ve seen each other in years, emotions are running high - at least give her some more time to think this through, you already bedded her… don’t make this harder on her - she was beginning to move on, she’d been planning to move and now you’re telling me she’s throwing it all away? For a man she’s barely seen in years no less.”
“You’re… you’re wrong.” He mumbles under his breath, “You’re wrong, we both love each other.”
“Listen to me,” had your mother’s voice always been so grating to the ear, “she might have said yes to you now but how do you know she won’t regret it? When did you ask her? Today, the same day you come for the first time to see her? You think that under all the emotions that’ll come up seeing you again she’ll be thinking rationally? Was this even a conversation you both had previously, Ajax? How are you so sure she loves you like a wife and not just as a friend?”
His movements slow down, his hands feel heavy as he buttons up his shirt; can she just shut up? What did she think she was doing, lying to get him out of the way? Insinuating you’d ever regret him, what a joke - you needed him to survive.
“I’m saying this not just as a parent but as a wife, you can’t rush into these things, you can’t spring the question up suddenly and not take the time to consider it properly! You… you immediately had sex with her and you want me to believe this is out of love and not physical attraction? You couldn’t even wait for her father and I to get home. You’re telling me that both of you are completely sure of what you’re doing, you want me to believe that? I’m not letting my daughter make such a rash decision in a day -”
“So what if it was in only a day, huh? You’re just looking for any excuse to oppose us getting together,” he’s quick to interrupt her, “because you are trying to get her to marry some old fuck for some quick mora.”
“What the fuck are you talking about?”
“You think I don’t know, huh? You don’t care about her at all, do you? Lying to me that she’d never mention me, as if you didn’t know we were together all this time… acting like you care about her when there’s some fucking bitch downstairs you sold her off to.”
“What… What's this about selling my daughter?” “Don’t act stupid on me,” he doesn’t even bother buttoning the rest of his shirt before he’s pushing your mother out of the room and following her out the door, “I tried to be civil, but I’m getting really damn tired of you criticizing us and you keep on lying.”
She hits her back against the wall, she yelps in surprise but the Harbinger makes no acknowledgement of any discomfort he may be causing. Instead, gloved hands shoot up and take hold of her shoulders as he continues going at her; there’s a crazed look in his eyes as he keeps on speaking, getting progressively annoyed the longer the conversation went on.
“We – I, we never sold her off,” your mother pants, she looks up at him in confusion and fear, “who do you take us for?”
“I have the records,” he pushes her down, “there’s no use in lying to me, ma’am – I know everything I need to know.”
“You’re crazy,” she spits out, “you’re fucking crazy… I don’t what the fuck happened to you, but I’m sure as hell now that you are absolutely not getting anywhere near my daughter!”
“Shut up!” He picks her up and throws her against the wall, there’s a loud thud as her body slowly sinks into the ground, he corners her with his body, “Shut the fuck up, you hag.”
“Let go!” Tears are streaming down her eyes as she pleads,“Help, someone help! Please, upstairs… come upstairs now!”
“Listen here,” his eyes are wide open, his posture threatening as he leans over her shaking body, he’s rough in his handling of her and he knows it but chooses not to care, “she said she’d marry me, she said she loves me, she said so and so it is. There’s no debate, got it? If I want to fuck her two minutes after seeing her, I do so, and if I want to marry her after not seeing her for years, I do so. We don’t need a lying bitch getting in our way, you understand that, right? I don’t need you taking her away from me to give her to someone else. She was mine before I left, she was mine when I left, she’s mine right now, and she’ll be mine as long as I’m alive, so you either shut up and accept it or I’ll get rid of you and your fucking mistake of a family.”
“Listen here,” his eyes are wide open, his posture threatening as he leans over her shaking body, he’s rough in his handling of her and he knows it but chooses not to care, “she said she’d marry me, she said she loves me, she said so and so it is. There’s no debate, got it? If I want to fuck her two minutes after seeing her, I do so, and if I want to marry her after not seeing her for years, I do so. We don’t need a lying bitch getting in our way, you understand that, right? I don’t need you taking her away from me to give her to someone else. She was mine before I left, she was mine when I left, she’s mine right now, and she’ll be mine as long as I’m alive, so you either shut up and accept it or I’ll get rid of you and your fucking mistake of a family.”
“Get off of her!”
Oh, your father was here.
It’s strange to think that at some point, Ajax would have considered him something akin to a second father - especially now as his stomach filled itself with venomous rage at the mere sight of the older man.
“I said get off,” he runs towards the younger soldier, at an impressive speed for a man his age, his hands lunge forward as if to tackle him but it takes one hydro blade’s slash for him to stop dead in his tracks, “I… what do you want?”
Your father looks visibly worried as the ginger brands his weapon, the sight of an unfamiliar vision user threatening your spouse is one that would make anyone think twice before taking their next step.
“Do you seriously not recognize me?” Tartaglia laughs incredulously, “Come on, sir… I was only gone for a couple of years.”
“Ajax?” Your mother nods her head frantically as your father finally puts a name to the face of the strange man in his house, “What the hell are you doing, boy?”
“He’s going on about,” your mother gasps for air, “marrying her and - and, us selling her or something!” The awkward position she found herself in made it hard for her to comfortably speak, even so, she made sure to spit it out as quickly as possible. Her chest is heaving while she desperately tries to make your father understand the absurdity of the situation, the hydro blade in his hand was simply too close to her skin for her comfort - the power of Harbinger was nothing to scoff at and she wanted nothing more than to never find herself in this position ever again.
“We can talk this out,” your father’s hands shake as he tries to slowly approach the ginger, “there’s clearly been a misunderstanding…”
“There has been no misunderstanding, sir,” he laughs, “I know damn well what I saw and what I heard.”
“We would never -” “Yes, you would!” He nearly shouts, but he restrains himself - if only because you’re still sleeping nearby, his whole body shakes as he tries to control the volume of his voice, “And I’m getting really fucking tired of you acting like you wouldn’t, you know? Just admit it and maybe, just maybe, we can work things out.”
“We would never hurt our daughter like that, Ajax,” the older man tries to explain, “please, understand that… let my wife go and we can talk this out properly, please.”
“Talk it out?” Ajax looks at him incredulously, “There’s nothing to talk about if you won’t admit to your mistakes, sir.” “B-but we didn’t -”
“Shut up!” His blue eyes are wide open, the crazed look in them was enough to send a chill down a grown man’s body. Why couldn’t they just admit to trying to separate the both of you? Why were they so desperate to lie? He knows what he heard, he knows they were trying to ruin his chances to be with you. They were clearly trying to get in his way, they had to be conspiring against the two of you - there was no other reason as to why you’d been so hesitant to agree to his proposal, why you’d been scared to see the truth; they were brainwashing you into forgetting him, doubting him. They had to have known he’d come back, there was no way he wouldn’t have, it’d take death itself for him to give up on you.
He couldn’t take it anymore, he couldn’t stand to listen to your parents’ pathetic attempts at covering up their lies.
Your mother’s words die in her throat as he knocks her out with a single blow, it’s by sheer luck the impact against her skull hadn’t straight up killed her. Your father doesn’t even get to react, not even a pip can be mumbled, before Tartaglia is making his way towards him at rapid speeds, the young man’s strength was enough to tackle him down. The Fatui soldier makes sure to use as much strength as possible, all in an attempt to get his opponent to knock his head against something and pass out with as little fuss as possible.
It’s almost pathetic how quickly he’d taken both of them down, in just a few minutes the couple was knocked out cold - not yet dead nor mortally injured but not awake, no longer able to annoy Ajax or disturb you.
It’s almost pathetic how quickly he’d taken both of them down, in just a few minutes the couple was knocked out cold, both lying motionless on the ground, their limbs sprawled awkwardly; not yet dead but no longer able to annoy Ajax or disturb you, much to the former’s delight.
Footsteps could be heard from the first floor as the guests downstairs started getting worried, standing up and roaming around calling your parents’ names - too polite to dare wander into the house but too anxious about their absence to stay completely still, the thick wooden floors muffled the sounds but not enough that the commotion upstairs couldn’t be heard. One of the many benefits of Snezhnayan architecture was the isolation you could achieve in a big enough house, he’ll keep it in mind when he picks a house to start a family with you in.
Due to your house’s size, Ajax wouldn’t have to worry too much about Andrei or his parents hearing too much, meaning he’d be able to keep the element of surprise.
The Vision user knew he’d have to avoid the dining room, the place where the guests currently found themselves, lest he lose control and kill his former subordinate the minute he laid eyes on him, however his reasoning was anything but noble; Tartaglia simply wasn’t too keen on the idea of letting him get away with his crimes just yet.
To him, death would be too soft a punishment, it would have to be a fate worse than, not just for Andrei but every single person who was involved in the scheme.
His gloved hands make their way to check their pulses, both weak but still there - good.
With a satisfied huff he makes his way down the hall and staircase, quick to dismiss his signature hydro blades as he purposely makes his presence known with loud, rhythmic footsteps any soldier who’d served under him would recognize.
Years of hanging out under this very roof meant Ajax knew exactly where your back entrance was, which meant that he could enjoy instilling a sense of dread into the people downstairs without risking being found.
With a lazy smirk, Ajax purposely lets a couple of framed pictures and paintings fall from the wall, his hand tracing the walls and making sure to create as much sound as possible. As he approaches the dining room, he can hear the confused, hushed whispers as someone tries to peek into the hallway but, by the time the young man finally reaches the door to look around, Ajax has long since exited the house as he makes his way to recall the soldiers he’d stationed around the neighborhood.
With a wave of his hand soldiers seemingly appeared from thin air, emerging from bushes and rounding dark corners, soon the Harbinger is surrounded by men awaiting his orders.
“Is the Galkin residency ready?” He asks, making direct eye contact with a shorter soldier.
“Yes, sir.” The man nods.
“Good,” he combs a hand through his hair as he looks at your childhood home, “there’s a knocked out couple on the second floor, the rest are in the dining room.”
“Yes, sir.” A chorus of voices respond, mechanically a group of the soldiers turn around and march into the house.
“Keep it down, will you? If they scream, knock them out,” he adds half-heartedly, “she’s sleeping, so don’t wake her up.”
The leader of the group nods enthusiastically, making sure to echo the sentiment to his men before making their way inside the house.
As their operation takes place, Tartaglia turns back around to address his remaining companions; “Make sure to make it look as realistic as possible, we need the charges to stick.”
“Yes, sir.”
He asks to see the boxes full of fabricated evidence one last time. There are at least six large boxes filled to the brim, but he focuses on one. The one that holds the most damning evidence for the most serious crime anyone could commit in the land of Cryo; Treason against the Tsaritsa. Cold, blue eyes look with a gleeful glint at the falsified letters, penned to look exactly like your family members’ handwriting, there’s more; photographs, bank records, falsified shipment records, and more.
He gives one final nod, officially sealing everyone’s fates. From this moment onwards, your family and the Galkin’s would be charged with treason against the Tsaritsa and conspiracy to overthrow the Fatui. Sure, many others, perhaps even innocent people, will unjustly be implicated but he’ll make sure to pin this on the worst people he can. He’ll get rid of two birds with one stone while he’s at it.
It takes only a couple of minutes before everyone is being pulled outside of the house and led into carriages. It’s a humiliating sight, the ones who were awake were panicked, some even crying, the ones who had to be subdued needed to be carried by two or more people as they were unceremoniously dragged away.
Ajax purposely hides away, making sure to make a mental note of who was being taken and their condition. Andrei and his father are the only Galkin family members out of the four present who hadn’t been knocked out. Your parents, your eldest sister, and younger brother are knocked out - your elder brother, and your other sister are the only ones awake. There are a couple of other people, their partners, and a few he didn’t recognize immediately. In total, there were 16 people taken from your home.
Tartaglia made a point to only reveal himself as they finally dragged Andrei out, the final person out the house. His hands were bound behind him, a confused look clear in his eyes as he desperately tried to understand what was going on. His green eyes finally make contact with Ajax’s, they widen.
“Sir? What is going on -” He’s cut off by a harsh shove from the soldier walking him, he stumbles.
Ajax almost feels bad at the sight, Andrei was a good man - if only he didn’t try to get with you. He was young, unlike the idea he’d planted into your head, Galkin had only recently turned 27 last month, and he’d been a promising soldier until he was honorably discharged after a failed mission took the lives of most of his troupe. However, if you found out about his closeness in age to yourself, you’d probably not have reacted as poorly - maybe you’d even think about giving the fucker a chance. After all, people like Andrei - honorable young men who sacrificed a part of himself for his nation - were always appealing to the masses. But never as appealing as Ajax was to you, he couldn’t be.
The Harbinger turns around on his heels, not even sparing another glance to the arrested individuals, before making his way inside your house.
It’s filled with strangers, their serious faces evident as they set up the scene - their movements calculated as they did their best to create the image of guilt. Even though there were easily five or more people in every room, the whole place felt eerily empty. In a way, he almost feels as if you two were the only people in the world - you, the sleeping beauty waiting for him to arrive.
There’s a spring in his step as he pushes the door to your room open, his eyes immediately find you buried within his coat. He’s not surprised you had managed to sleep through it all, you’d always been a heavy sleeper even during your youth.
He ushers a soldier in with a bunch of empty boxes, signaling for her to start packing your things up.
“Wake her up and you’re dead.” He adds while he makes his way towards you, a cheeky smile on his face as he makes himself comfortable next to you.
The soldier nods, making sure to be as quiet as humanly possible as to not anger the man in front of her - at this point, everyone in the house knew that he was not exaggerating when he said such things. When it came to you, the eleventh Fatui Harbinger knew no bounds. She turns around, making sure not to look too much at either of you in fear of upsetting him.
He patiently waits for the woman to finish packing all she could fit in the boxes. By now, he’s cuddling you in his arms, never allowing you the chance to so much as squirm away from him. It’s a suffocating, possessive hold he has on you, like he was scared if he let you go even for a second you’d leave him.
“Good, thank you.” He doesn’t even look at her - too focused gazing lovingly at your sleeping form. She says nothing but bows before leaving, desperate to leave the room as soon as possible.
The minute she closes the door he pulls himself away from you, making sure to not wake you up with any sudden movements - a concern he seemingly hadn’t had before when he’d been tormenting your parents.
He’d done his best to conceal himself but the truth was that the minute he saw you again, he felt himself growing hard again. Your naked body was hidden enough he didn’t feel the need to kick the soldier from before out, but he knew - he knew that beneath it you were still dirty with him, you were bruised from his handling of you, your neck filled with his kisses and bites. Just knowing that was enough for him to get dizzy, as if all the blood that was meant to flow to his brain had been redirected to his dick. His white pants were tented up, it almost hurts from how erect it was - just the memory of you taking him inside had a wet patch forming in his underwear.
“Look at what you do, baby,” he moans, his voice breathy as he pulls his zipper down, slowly freeing his hard-on, “ah… hah, I want to be inside you again.”
Just the cold air hitting his bare cock is enough to send a jolt of electricity down his spine, he just wants to feel you again, it’s all he wants - to be inside you again and to fuck you until all you can think of his your future husband’s cock. He takes your hand, so much smoother than his battle-worn one, and cautiously shoves two of your fingers into his mouth as a make-shift gag.
He keeps one hand there while the other one slowly caresses his slit, his touch almost a ghost on his skin as he makes sure to tease it until a glob of pre starts to form from how sensitive he already was. He takes a small amount of pre-cum and uses it as lube, making sure to spread it slowly across his tip and down his shaft with long strokes.
He’s trying his best not to bite down on your fingers but it was so hard not to, instead he occupies himself by sucking on them in sync with his hand.
“Mhm!” He accidentally touches his vein, the thick bump was extra sensitive against the cold air and your scent, his whole body twitches.
He can’t stop his hand from gaining speed and force, the longer he’s here with you the more his hand moves. It just not enough, his hips thrust upwards as he gives into himself, fucking into his balled up hand. His tongue laps at your fingers, his lips wrap tightly around them as he tries not to bite into your flesh; he can’t stop his hand from tightening against his cock.
He continues like this for a while, humping into the air like a bitch in heat, making sure to not cum - he didn’t want this to end too soon, he wanted to continue feeling like this next to you. In your room, a place that smelt so much like you it was overstimulating him, the taste of your lips against his tongue was intoxicating - he didn’t want today to end.
“Hah, mhm…” He chokes against his moan; it’s starting to get too much for him.
It’s then that he makes the mistake of looking over to you. Just the sight is enough for him to cum, it takes just a few strokes for him to finally spill.
“F-Fuck!” He can’t stop the moan that leaves his lips, he takes your fingers out of mouth in fear of hurting you but he refuses to let it go, gripping tightly while he lets himself ride the wave of pleasure he feels.
It takes him a second or two until he finally calms down, his dick growing sensitive as he slows down his strokes until he finally stops. His chest feels heavy as he pants, his heart beating painfully loud - he wonders if maybe you could hear it even in your sleep, a part of him hopes so. His whole body is on fire but he thinks this is the best he’s ever felt, just being near you was enough to make him feel like a God.
“I… I love you,” he pants, his fingers almost leave a dent in your hands from how tightly he’s gripping it, “hah… I love you so, so much…”
Almost a little too much.
#yandere genshin impact#yandere genshin#yandere ajax#yandere tartaglia#yandere childe#yandere x reader#yandere gi#yandere#yandere male#yandere x you#yandere boy x reader#male yandere#๋࣭ ancient scrolls#yandere genshin imagines
1K notes
·
View notes
Note
could you do something about how alastor gets jealous and how he shows it? Like what things would get him jealous and stuff like that and then how he would go about it? Thank you!
I guess I gotta- 🥵
Alastor X Reader Headcanons
✅️Romantic
❌️Platonic
TW: Alastor being a red flag, Wifey is into it even though she pretends not to be, A widdle suggestive
Description: ☝️⬆️
It doesn't take much to make Alastor jealous, he has a big ego to defend and doesn't like to share your attention
He also doesn't think a lot of people are worthy of your attention so that's a big part of it
Alastor is almost childish the way he acts out when he's jealous, it's painfully obvious even though he denies it every time
He sulks and acts out to get your attention back on him, doing anything he can to make you just look at him
He's rude and intimidating to anyone he thinks is flirting with you or trying to take you for themselves
After every incident, he tries to pretend like nothing happened and refuses to acknowledge his jealous streak
Can't people just understand that you're a married woman and that Alastor deserves all of your time???
Someone is talking to you and you're laughing too hard, cheeks a little too pink? Alastor is right there to sniff out any ill intention
"What's so funny, my dear? Surely you're not gossiping without me.."
He's wrapping a protective arm around you and kissing your cheek, eyeing the other person the entire time as he asserts his husbandly dominance over them
"Hm? Oh! He was telling me a funny joke about-"
Alastor takes a break from kissing your wrist and palm to snap his gaze to the other man, a wicked gleam in his eye
"Ohhhh! So you're a clown! Wonderful~! Your attire had me wondering what you do for a living, but now it all makes sense!"
The other person is visibly uncomfortable by your husband's unspoken challenge and backs out of the conversation with their tail between their legs
"I guess he had other things to do~"
You roll your eyes as Alastor nuzzles your neck, petting his around his ears and antlers
"You're are not a very subtle man, my dear."
You're dancing with someone who's not him? Alastor will physically shut that shit down
He spends maybe a full minute pouting and ignoring everyone else around him, eyes locked on you and your dance partner
"Alastor, are you even listening?"
"Out of all the women here, why did he choose MY wife? I walked away for one second, and he snatched her up!"
He doesn't care for how closely they're holding you, the way they blush and smile from your attention
Alastor isn't having it, striding over and using his hip to push the man away from you and off the dance floor, taking your hand
You're trying not to smile at him, pressing against your husband as you take his hand and dance with him
"Alastor, that was rude..."
He simply chuckles and spins you around happily, snapping his fingers to change the song into something more romantic
"I would say I'm sorry but we both know I'm not~ Besides, I waited for my chance to dance with you!"
It's hard to stay mad at him when he's looking at you like you're the only person in the world and holding you like you're something precious
It helps that he's so handsome, you can't help but lean up and steal a kiss from him, feeling familiar butterflies at the touch
"You've been dancing with me all night, and you barely waited a minute... you greedy demon~"
He leans into your hand as you cup his cheek, tail wagging from having your undivided attention again
"Is it a crime that I want to hog my darling wife? That I crave every opportunity to dance with her and steal the show?"
He's leaning in for another kiss, and it makes you instinctively move in closer to meet his lips
"It will be if you keep injuring people~"
And those are just some examples of people who weren't flirting with you, it's so much worse when someone actually wants you
You're waiting for your husband to meet with you for your date, dressed up and looking your absolute best
When you hear a sharp whistle from behind, only to see a sleazy looking demon towering over you and eyeing your body
"And just where do you think you're going looking like that, beautiful? My place is that way~"
He's much too close, placing a hand on the wall behind you in order to keep you from running, completely unaware of the danger he's in
You can't help but roll your eyes at the situation
"I'm flattered, really I am... but I'm not interested, I'm waiting for someone, actually."
You casually move out from under his arm, completely unfazed by the way his expression darkens as you fix your appearance
"Oh really? And just who might you be waiting for? Let me guess, your boyfriend?"
He doesn't look like he believes you, making air quotes around the word boyfriend
You can't help but laugh at the poor soul, putting a hand on your hip as you whip around to face him-
"Husband, actually~ My name is Alastor though maybe you'll recognize my other name! The Radio Demon~ Maybe you've heard of me?"
It's such a treat to watch the cocky demon lose his composure in fear and so sexy to watch your husband be the cause of it
The demon is so much larger than Alastor but he's practically cowering away from him, Alastor grinning at him as he tilts his head
"Look uh-I'm sorry! I didn't realize-"
Your husband tuts at the demon, antlers already growing as he morphs into his larger demonic form
You can't help but blush at how sweet Alastor is being, rushing to your rescue like this
"Didn't realize what? That you were hitting on my wife? You think I would just stand by and let you think you have a shot with her? She's much too far out of your league, unfortunately."
He's so cute when he's jealous
"Darling, do be quick with that? I don't want to miss our reservation-and no eating him! I don't want you to spoil your appetite!"
Alastor looks at you and visibly blushes at how good you look, the other demon simply an afterthought as he tears them apart
"My dear, you look absolutely ravishing~ How am I going to keep the other men from looking at you when you're so delectable?"
He's still humongous, a large claw reaching out to stroke your leg tenderly, a lovesick expression on his face
You can practically see the hearts in his eyes~ Smiling at your husband and blowing him a kiss
"It's a good thing that you're the only man I have eyes for then, isn't it?"
He shrinks back down to his normal size and kisses your hand before wrapping an arm around you as you two walk together
"It's something that I'm extraordinarily grateful for~"
You can't help but lean your head against him, letting him nuzzle the top of your head in an affectionate manner
"Though~ I wouldn't mind a refresher of just how much you adore me...~"
You can't help but snort at the comment, gently slapping his chest before pulling him in for a kiss
"Dinner first~ You'll need your strength~"

I might go back and change this one a bit ngl
#hazbin hotel x reader#alastor hazbin hotel x reader#alastor hazbin x reader#alastor x reader#hazbin x reader
1K notes
·
View notes
Text
Mattheo Riddle headcanons
masterlist ko-fi ao3
Summary: what is it like dating Mattheo
Word count: 1.5k
Warnings: fluff, no mention of y/n, you can be in any house, spicy content under the warning
Author’s note: For all my Bucky fanfic readers, I'm sorry that I haven’t posted in almost a month. This December is just too overwhelming, and every time I tried to finish my fic, it felt like I was wasting my time. I literally just miss the ending, and I hope to finish it as soon as possible.
For my possible new followers and/or HP stans, Mattheo is my current obsession, and I’m literally head over heels for him. And you know what they say: if you can’t find a fanfic that you like, write it yourself. So yeah, I'm trying something new, and I have a few ideas that are poisoning my head every single minute lmao.
sorry if there are any mistakes. hope you’ll like it💘🎀
Mattheo was never that much of a playboy because he didn’t like to share his space and, well, communicate with people in general
Due to his family, he was really reserved and refused to be weak
You weren’t that popular in school, so he had never really noticed you but one day, you suddenly started hanging out with Pansy and he could not get you out of his head anymore
He hated it
He hated that you occupied all of his thoughts for at least a few weeks
Tried to ignore his feelings for you as long as possible, but from the moment you two had to work together on the project, everything went downhill
He was scared to ask you out, not ready to be rejected by the only person he genuinely liked and thinking that maybe you secretly hated him like everyone else
At the beginning of the relationship, Mattheo told you that sometimes he might get cold and distant, but it wasn’t your fault and that you should just give him some time
Mattheo is romantic and for his favorite girl, he always arranged the best dates
He was nervous to kiss you after the first date when he walked you to your dorm
Little did he know, but that sexy smirk and the way he looked at you all night drove you insane
So you just pulled him by the tie, connecting your lips
Since then, Mattheo has been addicted to you
Hands are always on you, holding your hand, your waist or your thighs
Looks at you as if you hung the moon and the stars
He kisses you in front of everyone to make sure that they know that you are his, and he is yours
Likes to pull into into his lap while he’s talking with his friends in the common room
Holding you close, slowly strokes your arms or your back, unable to keep his hands away from you
Whispers sweet nothings
Loves your smell and always buries his nose into your hair
He wears rings and allows you to steal them
His hoodies and t-shirts too
Secretly likes to be little spoon or lay on your chest while your hands are playing with his curls
Buys you everything you might possibly like, even though you always tell him to stop spending his money on you
Likes to study with you because you can actually get ready for the lessons while he has another opportunity to stare at you
So overprotective and always snaps back at people who, even in the slightest way, disrespect you
He never lets you go to the parties alone in case some creepy guys decide to hit on you
Possesive
When you’re wearing revealing clothes, one part of him is proud and wants to brag that his girlfriend is the sexiest woman on the planet, but the other part wants to cover you with big blanket and keep you to himself
Always sarcastic and sassy
Fights a lot
He had never gone to the medical wing because he wasn’t used to asking for help, but since you started dating, he let you heal his wound
Loves when you scold him for those fights, just because you look so cute when you’re angry and he has an excuse to kiss and spoil you
He has anger issues, but he has never raised his voice at you
Actually, you are like a sedative to him because only you can calm him down in a matter of seconds
Will never make you feel uncomfortable or insecure
You don’t like something or someone? Mattheo will make sure to get you out of the room and won’t let that person come near you ever again
The way you call him “Matty” turns him into a literal puddle
Can’t sleep without you in his arms
spicy
During your first time, he was super attentive and always checked whether you were okay or not
Praises. A lot of fucking praises
“You’re taking me so good, my love”, “you look so pretty when you cum around me.”
He likes every position, but prefers when he can see your face
There is literally not a single place in his dorm where you two haven’t had sex
Gets turned on literally by everything you do
He’s risky. As soon as he finds out that you actually liked it, he always teases you under the table, pulls you into the storage rooms, and talks dirty while there are a lot of people around
Got you two in detention a few times for getting caught kissing at night by Snape (you were lucky that he caught you before Mattheo’s hands slipped under your skirt)
His personal favorite is sex in the astronomy tower. The way you’re trying to hold back your moans drives him crazy
Also bathtub in the prefects’ bathroom, where you love to sit with him deep inside of you
He usually dominates, but sometimes likes to let you be in charge and see how you ride him
He has a big appetite, and what is the best way to deal with it? Right, you.
Mattheo would’ve spent hours in between your legs if you allowed him
He never asks for anything in return, but still seeing you on your knees for him is a fucking miracle
Your hair are around his hand, while you’re taking as much of him in your mouth as you can
Eye contact
He’s willing to try in bed anything that you want, except things that might get you hurt
He likes to keep his hand on your neck while he’s thrusting into you but never actually squeezes
Can be rough and fast or really gentle and slow, depending on the mood
After someone pisses him off or if you had a small fight, he always fucks you into the bed with your hands pinned above you until you’re literally crying from pleasure
By the way, when you don’t have time to put a spell on the room, it gives him satisfaction to know that everyone hears the way you moan for him
He always makes sure that you came, and if you didn’t, he’s more than happy to go down on you
Love confessions
Aftercare is a must
Hugs, kisses, food, baths—anything you might want
He always keeps you close until you fall asleep and then just stares at you, wondering how he could be so happy to have you
#slytherin boys#harry potter fanfiction#mattheo riddle x reader#mattheo riddle#mattheo x you#mattheoxreader#mattheo x y/n#mattheo riddle headcanon#mattheo riddle fanfic
2K notes
·
View notes
Text
I have the most random headcanon about Young Just Us. (Like, so random)
It starts with the pretty common "they all steal each other's clothes" thing, but then it starts to get a little out of control.
So, they have this space mission where they save a planet of magic people (or a planet with a group of magic people a la the Jedi, maybe?) and get a reward.
"So, you want us to pick something magical? And you'll give it to us?"
Turns out it has to be something "mundane." Or, it can't be, like, world-saving. Nothing that would help in battle or make you rich or anything. Just... something mundane. Your ice cream never melts past the point you want it to. Your socks never lose their mates. That kind of thing.
So YJ put their heads together. And they (after many, many disagreements) come up with something.
"Can you connect our closets? Like, any place any of us think of as our closet we can step through our closets into a group closet?"
And there are caveats (you can only exit the way you entered. Only clothes/accessories/etc. (things you'd normally put in a closet and/or things you wear) can pass through different doors than they entered. there are other things, but the gist of it is that it has little to no tactical value) but they get their shared closet space.
"Oh! And we have a teammate who couldn't be here today. Can she be included in this?"
"Absolutely. Just make sure you're thinking of her when we do the magic."
(Because Cissie can stop being a hero, but she can never stop being one of them.)
Anyway, this is the basic incident, but I keep thinking of more things to add to the scenario.
Like, they come up with a system to say which things are off limits for borrowing. (Things they need for an upcoming event. Things they stole from other people and don't want re-stolen (I'm thinking specifically of Tim stealing Dick's hoodies.)) Probably some kind of system with colored dots or labeled clothespins.
Anyway, you get Tim walking around in Cassie's costume pants (the ones with the stars) and Cissie's Team USA warm-up jacket. And Cassie's wearing a Gotham Knights jersey, one of Cissie's school skirts, and Anita's earrings. Meanwhile, Bart is swimming in one of Anita's tops and a pair of those too-big jeans Tim wears and Kon's leather jacket. Greta sometimes goes and just digs for the softest, most oversized things and comes out looking even more mismatched than the rest of them. (Not that they always look mismatched. Sometimes they put together outfits that you'd never think of but actually kinda work.)
(At some point one of them needs to get stopped by a friend/family member who's like "does anything you're wearing belong to you?" And the YJ member being questioned just looks down and goes "uhhhh....")
I'm pretty sure that if some random person opened one of their closets it would look normal. But if they were showing someone, I think that would work. Plus, I like the idea of Cissie making it so Traya can grab stuff from her closet when she wants. Like, those are her kinda-sorta-older-siblings. Let her steal their clothes sometimes.
Now I'm thinking that they could probably build a kind of nest in the shared space where they can hide from the universe when it gets too much. (Getting dangerously close to tactical use here. Maybe there's a limit on how many people at once/how long you can be in there?)
Also! They'd never have to pack for a sleepover again!
#there is no point to this - i just like it#young justice#yj98#young justice 1998#young just us#tim drake#bart allen#cassie sandsmark#anita fite#cissie king jones#kon el kent#greta hayes#slobo#traya sutton#also a fair bit of:#dick and tim#dcu#you can't convince me these kids don't share clothes#and I want to make that even more interesting#so have a barely connected collection of thoughts I've had about scenarios#feel free to add to this!
138 notes
·
View notes
Text
Childhood Friends Danny and Jason
(cw underage smoking / smoking as a form of bonding) (cw Jason thinking Danny killed himself but its only for a moment) (cw depictions of murderous intent? Danny wants to murder the Joker and he's a little descriptive about it)
Now on ao3 :) (and with a response and a third one)
AND ALSO A REMASTERED VERSION THAT YOU SHOULD TOTALLY GO CHECK OUT BECAUSE I WORKED VERY HARD ON IT.
This is… aha. Massive. Word count check: 9k+
this has probably been done before but hey, everyone loves a good trope and I wanted to share my take on this idea. 👏👏 So, Danny Fenton and Jason Todd being childhood friends. The Fentons lived in Crime Alley for a good long while during Danny's childhood. Nobody wanted to fund their research and Jack and Maddie struggled to keep any form of work for a multitude of reasons. Jack worked in construction due to his big build and Maddie had another job elsewhere.
Danny and Jason were friends during that time, really great friends. I'm not super solid on how they met yet but I do know it involves Danny committing petty crime and Jason deciding to jump in and help when he sees Danny struggling. Danny was distrustful (as all crime alley kids ought to be) but they eventually became thick as thieves, committing petty crime together.
While it's all too easy to make Danny the weaker one of the two with Jason protecting him, I actually really like the idea that they protected each other. Growing up (essentially) on the streets means Danny forcibly had to grow a backbone unless he wanted to get trampled all over. He is just as willing to scuffle with the bigger kids as Jason is, and he and Jason regularly fought each other whenever they needed to let off steam, or just because. They were a duo, having each other's backs in tough situations.
(Sometimes the pair of them would sneak out at night and try and get a glimpse of Batman and Robin while they soared through the air. It was like a game between the two of them to see who could spot the dynamic duo first. When they were a little older, Jason would steal his dad's cigarettes and share them with Danny while they searched for Batman and Robin)
So when Danny has to move away when they're eleven years old, it's pretty safe to say that Jason didn't speak to him for a week afterwards. Nothing Danny did could persuade him to otherwise, even when Danny insisted that it wasn't his fault and that he didn't want to move away either, but he didn't have a choice in the matter.
When the week was over, Jason climbed through Danny's window and sat in his room, dead silent and looking upset. he didn't speak until Danny fished out a stolen pack of cigarettes from his bed and handed one to Jason.
(It was a ritual they had where if one of them was upset about something but wasn't saying anything, the other one could then hand them a cigarette -- whether it be the one they were using or a new one -- and that would be an open invitation for the person to vent. The other one who handed him the cigarette wouldn't speak until the venter handed back the cigarette. Then back and forth it would go until the cigarette was gone.)
Jason ranted about how pissed he was about Danny moving, and they promised to try and stay in touch after he leaves. Neither of them had phones, but Danny was determined to send him a letters.
Danny moves to Amity Park and it's... an adjustment, that's for sure. He's angry, grumpy, upset, and every other negative feeling under the sun. He was going to a new middle school with new people he didn't know, away from all of the people he did know and away from his best friend.
(He does however keep his word about sending letters, and mails one out to Jason at the first opportunity.)
He refuses to get along with anyone, butts heads with the teachers, is combative, rude, and openly smokes in class -- which gets him plenty of detentions and a bad reputation. He speaks in a thick Gotham street accent and wears hand-me-down clothes that are too big and baggy on him. (His parents have yet to replace any of their wardrobes as they settle into their new life, and Danny is hesitant to spend the money to get new clothes.)
He only manages to befriend Sam and Tucker because one of the football kids was bullying Tucker and Danny stepped in. It was some blond jerk named Dash and when Dash threw the first punch, Danny broke his nose. Tucker found him later that day and reluctantly thanked him for his help.
Sam and Danny do not get along for the longest time. Sam questions Danny about his upbringing, his accent, his smoking. She judges him for talking back to the teachers despite doing it herself and for ruining his lungs with cigarettes. Danny tells her to fuck off, and when she tries to judge him and Tucker for not being vegetarian, he calls her a privileged brat.
Sam doesn't even look at him for two weeks after, and Danny refuses to apologize. Tucker is caught between a rock and a hard place as his old friend and new friend are feuding with each other.
They... sort it out eventually.
Danny and Jason send each other letters near religiously. Danny complains about Amity Park, and Jason complains about how Crime Alley isn't the same without him. Danny talks about the school and what he's learned, about Sam and Tucker, and how he's been getting into the astronomy books in the library. He steals Jason a book and sends it to him.
When Jason tells Danny that he was adopted by Bruce Wayne, Danny calls bullshit. There's no fucking way Bruce Wayne would even look at Crime Alley, regardless of his charity efforts towards it. But when he checks Gotham news later that week, he's hit in the face with every single news article announcing Bruce Wayne's newest ward; Jason Todd.
Cue freaking out. Jason talks all about living in Wayne Manor and what it's like there. He says that there's a monster library in a part of the house that Bruce says he has free reign over, and that Jason can have anything to eat as long as he asks Alfred to make it and it isn't a desert, and that he has his own monster-sized room that he got to pick out himself and decorate.
(When they both get phones, the first thing either of them do is add each other's numbers.)
When Sam complains about having to go to a Wayne Gala that her parents are dragging her to one weekend, the first thing Danny asks is if he can go with. It surprises Sam and Tucker; Danny was the last person they would have thought wanted to go with. HE hates the rich even more than Sam does. Danny stands firm in his decision, and refuses to elaborate.
"Besides." He says to Sam, with whom he's begun to get along with via 'the enemy of my enemy is a friend'. "Would you rather go alone or with someone you can tolerate?"
She brings him with and convinces her parents to allow Danny to come along, citing that she'll be on her best behavior if they do. They agree, and buy Danny a suit when he says that he doesn't have one of his own.
(He discovers that he hates wearing suit jackets and ties, but vests he doesn't mind. He doesn't like that he has to comb his hair back, but he does to make Sam's parents happy. They give him a crash course in etiquette that Danny's going to forget the next day, and soon enough off they go in a private jet to Gotham)
(he does not tell Jason he's coming.)
he feels mischievous and nervous as they touch down, his stomach swirling as Sam's parents usher them to a high-profile hotel that Danny's only ever dreamed about going into. He feels largely out of place as they walk through the lobby, and falls back on old habits: square shoulders, set jaw, make yourself look like the biggest person in the room.
They get ready in the hotel room, Sam's parents primp and preen for the night incoming, and Sam is dragged into it by her mother. Danny does only what's required of him, and fiddles with the sleeves of his fresh-ironed button-down that's been tailored to his body. He's itching for a cigarette, and didn't bring any with.
Sam's dad helps him with his tie, a bout of kindness that Danny doesn't think is one. Just obligation to prevent Danny from looking like a mess. Sam pesters him again about wanting to come, and his reasons for it, and Danny keeps mum.
He's stone-faced with anxiety as they get closer to the gala, and before they leave the limousine the Mansons rented Sam links arms with him. A form of solidarity that Danny needs as he squeezes their arms together and smiles weakly at her.
The paparazzi are loud, bright, and demanding, shouting questions over questions at them like overlapping tidal waves. Danny ignores them all and focuses on the front doors instead. Sam's parents whisper at the stairs that they are to greet the Waynes first, and Danny's heart leaps to his throat.
His heart is in his ears as they drift closer, Mister Wayne is preoccupied with another rich couple, smiling that charming billionaire smile that Danny saw on every billboard in Gotham, and then some in Amity Park. Getting so close to him feels unreal.
And there by his side is the one and only Jason Todd, who isn't even trying to hide the bored look on his face as he watches Bruce interact with the other adults. He's gotten taller in the year they've been away, and healthier. His hair looks like its been cut professionally and he doesn't look as street kid skinny.
Danny's arm, hooked with Sam's, tightens up, and he resists the urge to rush forward and hug Jason. He watches Jason's eyes sweep left, away from him, and then right, towards him. The air stills for a moment as their eyes lock.
Danny grins toothily at him, lopsided and playful in nature, and sees the moment Jason processes the sight before him. His arm starts slipping out of Sam's at the same time as an ecstatic smile stretches across Jason's face.
His lopsided grin fills out on the other end. "DANNY!" Jason yells, cutting off whatever Bruce Wayne and startling everyone within earshot. There's barely a moment for Bruce to look down when Jason shoves past him and runs at Danny.
Danny yanks his arm out of Sam's, "JASON!" He yells with just as much enthusiasm, and Jason nearly topples them right over when he collides with Danny. His arms wrap around Danny's shoulders, holding onto him tightly, and they're both laughing, spinning around like tops out of joy.
"You didn't tell me you were coming!" Jason cries, sounding accusing. Danny hugs him just as tightly, and laughs when Jason pulls away momentarily to punch his shoulder.
"I wanted it to be a surprise!" He defends, laughing between words as their spinning comes to a stop. They're both reluctant to pull apart, but they do and clutch the sleeves of their elbows tightly. "How could my best friend be adopted by the Bruce Wayne and have me not come confirm it with my own two eyes?"
"I sent you newspaper clippings!" Jason says, narrowing his eyes while his smile betrays his face. Danny quietly notices that his Gotham street accent is faded slightly.
"Oh that's what it was?" Danny's grin turns again, edging into a smirk. He feigns innocence, "I thought that was fire kindling." He has the newspaper clippings hung on the corkboard in his room, proud beyond words about his best friend.
Jason punches him in the shoulder again, hard enough to leave a bruise. "You jackass." He says, ignoring Danny's laughter even when he's holding back his own.
There's a soft, sharp clearing of someone's throat, breaking their attentions away from each other to the one that made the noise.
Bruce Wayne was a tall man, taller than Danny expected, and he looks exactly like his billboards. If less promiscuous than his perfume ads. Danny expects him to be upset with them both for disrupting his pretty rich gala, but instead he just looks gently amused, with an arched eyebrow. Overall though, he just looks fond.
Danny would be the first to admit that Bruce had taken in Jason as a charity case, something to fill the void after his other kid Dick Grayson finally moved out. But Danny’s a good judge of character — or he likes to assume he is — and those are not the eyes of a man who would take Jason in as a charity case. Those are the eyes of a man who actually, genuinely, cares about one Jason Todd.
The wriggly protective thing settles in his chest.
He doesn’t let go of Jason, but he does twist his smile into something a little more polite. Mister Wayne’s eyebrow arches higher, and he turns his blue-blue eyes onto Jason. “Who’s this, Jason?” He has that fancy Gotham Elite accent -- something that sounds like a mix between old transatlantic and faintly British -- that Danny's only heard in passing when he and Jason snuck up to the nicer parts of Gotham.
Jason stares at Mister Wayne, his grip on Danny tightens as his eyes flick to the other onlookers in the room. “This is Danny, B.” He says once his eyes turn back to Mister Wayne. “We grew up in Crime Alley together, he moved to Illinois last year."
Danny can see the uncomfortable expressions cross every rich person's face, murmurs sweeping across the room as soon their uncomfortable gazes turned judgmental and flinty. He's kept track of the tabloids after Jason's adoption, the ones calling him a charity case and looking down on him for being a street kid.
He inches a little closer to Jason, straightening up instinctively, as if they were back in Crime Alley and facing a pack of kids that didn't like them. He can see Sam's surprised expression from the corner of his eye -- he never told Tucker or Sam about where he grew up, although he's sure they had their suspicions.
He looks back to Mister Wayne and meets his blue-blue eyes, his smile has slowly begun to fade. Mister Wayne doesn't miss a beat however, and his smile stays plastered to his face. If anything, it gets a little softer, a little wider. "It's nice to meet you Danny -- Daniel? I'm so glad that Jason has a friend here." He holds out a hand.
Danny eyes him unsurely, and then takes his hand. "It's jus' Danny, Mister Wayne." He says, some of his old accent slipping through as he shook his hand firmly. He would have done it harder, but this was Jason's new guardian, and from Jason's letters he didn't sound too bad. "It's, uh, nice to meet you too. Jason's told me lots about you."
Mister Wayne's brows jump momentarily, he looks intrigued. He looks between Danny and Jason, and claps his hands together softly. "Well, Jay, how would you like to stay with Danny for a while, hm? I'm sure you too have a lot to catch up on."
Hope simmers in Danny's heart, and he glances to Jason to see that same hope on his face. "Really?" He asks, and Mister Wayne nods with a laugh.
"Of course! How could I keep two friends apart? Go on ahead, chum. I'll come get you when the gala ends."
And just like that, Bruce Wayne leaves Jason with Danny, diving back into a conversation with one of the rich gothamites and taking the attention with it as if he were the sun and everyone else a planet orbiting him.
Danny and Jason share grins, and throw their arms around each other with laughter. Danny is on cloud nine, pressing his nose into Jason's shoulder and breathing him in, fingers digging into the back of his suit hard enough to leave wrinkles in his jacket.
Sam demands answers when they finally, for real this time, pull apart. Why didn't he tell her that he was friends with Jason Todd!? Danny slings his arm around Jason's shoulders and keeps him close, and tells her that it was because he wanted it to be a surprise.
Sam's parents have unreadable expressions on their faces, part greed -- Danny is their in to the elusive Bruce Wayne -- and part disdain -- a Gotham street rat. Danny ignores them, they're unimportant in the grand scheme of things.
He introduces Sam to Jason, and Jason to Sam. And off they go to a corner of the room near the buffet table where they can eat and shit talk everyone else in the room in peace.
At some point in the night Sam is called back to her parents to meet some other fancy rich kids her parents want her to get along with, and Danny and Jason go off to the west end balcony to avoid anyone who may try and approach the new Gotham ward.
Danny hops up onto the balcony railing, kicking his feet as Jason pulls a cigarette pack out of his inner jacket pocket, and grins. "Don't tell Bruce," he says, handing the box to Danny first. "He's been trying to get me to quit."
"Hah!" Danny takes one just as Jason slips out a lighter. "That sounds like Jazz. She's been trying to get me to stop since we moved to Amity." Granted, she's been trying ever since she found out before they moved, but now she was even more insistent. "She hasn't found my stash yet."
At the end of the night when the Mansons are leaving and Danny has to leave with them, he walks back to Mister Wayne with Jason to tell him that he's leaving. Mister Wayne mourns his going, and tells him that he's always able to come visit.
"Any friend of Jason's is always welcome to the manor." He says with a blinding grin, pulling Jason close to his side and squeezing him tight. Jason's nose scrunches up, but he doesn't push away.
It becomes a new routine for them. The Mansons are all too happy to bring him with to the Wayne Galas (of which they start receiving more invites to due to their connection with Danny) and Danny is all too happy to spend the evening with Jason again. No matter what, they always end up on the balcony at some point in the night.
And, eventually, Danny is invited to stay at Wayne Manor either for a weekend or for a break. He jumps at the chance when winter break rolls around and his parents start their debate over Santa Claus again.
Danny and Jason stay up late into the night talking or playing video games during their sleepovers, and in the warmer nights they climb out and onto the roof to stargaze. Danny points out constellations - - things he can find in neither Gotham or Amity -- and rambles on and on about space.
There are plenty of times during the Wayne Galas that the event gets attacked by a rogue. More often than he'd like he loses Jason in the crowd, and has later stopped Robin or Batman in his panic to find him.
The first time it happened, he was in tears with terror. He grabbed onto Batman's cape, stopping the man from going back in as he babbled that his Jason Todd was still inside, that he disappeared during the chaos and he couldn't find him. Batman took his hands and calmly told him that he'd find Jason for him, and that he was sure he was okay, but he needed to calm down.
He found Jason later once everything had calmed down, and he screamed at him for disappearing during a rogue attack, if he ever did it again he'll kill him. Then he cried.
The second time it happened, Danny didn't even realize that Jason was gone until everything was already over. They'd been separated before the attack happened. He stopped Robin and Batman before they could leave, trying to keep his breathing under control as he asked again, if they had seen Jason Todd.
"That- that asshole keeps fucking ditching me when these things happen." His voice has an embarrassing wobble in it. "Please-- please tell me you've seen him, that he's alright."
Robin this time steps up to reassure him, that Jason Todd was out of the building. He got him out. "He's probably looking for you too, uhhh..."
"Danny" Danny says, and eyes him up and down. "You're the new Robin right?"
Robin stilled up, and Danny could understand it a little. He'd seen the thoughts on the new Robin online. He wasn't very popular at first. Robin nods curtly, and Batman was shuffled a little closer to him, almost protectively.
Danny grins at him. "Cool." He says, "Me and Jay used to sneak out onto the rooftops sometimes to try and spot Batman and the first Robin, we made it a game." He holds out a fistbump, "Thanks for doing what you do, man. I might not live in Gotham anymore, but I mean it. You're a living legend."
Robin looks like there's something stuck in his throat, and after a beat he returns the fistbump tentatively. "Th- uh, thanks." He stumbles out awkwardly, and then turns away, "Me and B- uh, better go."
Before Danny could even respond, Robin already had his grapple in hand and was grappling away. "You too, Batman." Danny says before Batman can follow.
When Danny sees Jason after that, and weight lifts off his chest and he hits him in the arm again. And then complains that he should have gotten Batman and Robin's autograph, it would have been epic.
By the fifth time it happens, Danny is cussing up a storm when Robin saves him, cursing out Jason and claiming that he needs to put that boy on a fucking leash. "We're a duo!" He scowls when Robin gets him outside, "I got his back, he has mine! I can't have his back when he's got no back to fucking have."
The eighth time it happens, Danny gets held hostage by one of the henchmen. He's become a recognizable friend of the Waynes, and when the Waynes are nowhere to be found, then the next best thing was up to offer. Danny isn't even mad this time around -- just relieved that Jason was fucking off somewhere where he couldn't get hurt.
Robin, however, seemed furious when he arrived, and broke the hostager's jaw with a single flying kick to the face. Jason found him rapidly quick soon after the situation had settled, and apologized over and over again.
Danny slings an arm around his shoulder and laughs that it was fine, Robin saved the day! His legs were shaking with the worn off adrenaline, something he tried to hide from Jason. "I'm just glad it was me instead of you, Jay." He grins. Jason looks like he swallowed a toad.
Jason stops disappearing as often after that, sticking close to Danny's side until the attack was over.
When Danny is fourteen, Jason dies, and his world unravels.
He calls the manor on a late night in April after Jason had stopped responding to his texts. Danny knew that Jason was just recently in a fight with Bruce, but he knows that Bruce loves Jason. He would know where he is, right?
When he calls, Bruce answers with a hoarse "hello?" as if he'd been crying all day, and Danny's blood turns to ice. The anxiety he'd been feeling beforehand doubles in size, and he feels himself stammering.
"Mister- uh- Mister Wayne? Um, I'm calling because Jason--" he hears Bruce inhale sharply on the other line, and his anxiety skyrockets into fear. "--hasn't been answering any of my texts and- and I'm gettin' real worried."
There's silence on the other end, and Danny feels a rock forming in his throat, gross and heavy like he was on the verge of throwing up. "Mister- Bruce? Mister B?"
There's a shaky breath, and then Bruce's voice crackles through the phone. "Um-- Jason, he, he's--" there's a sound like rustling, "he's been killed."
Danny's vision whites out with skyrocketing terror, his mind skidding to a stop. His body rapidly grows hot, and then chills, like a blacksmith striking a heated weapon. "What?"
When the phone call ends, Danny screams himself hoarse. Jazz and his parents come running into his room, his parents equipped with ghost weapons. Instead, they find Danny curled up in his bed, sobbing hoarsely.
Danny almost -- almost -- refuses to attend the funeral, nearly paralyzed with grief. Jazz coaxes him to go, to find closure if anything else, and he drags himself out of bed to go.
He feels numb the entire time. It's closed casket, so he can't even see him for one last time before Jason is buried in the ground. He's silent, and if he think he looks bad, then Bruce looks even worse, like he hadn't slept since Jason died and worse.
Danny grabs his sleeve before he leaves, and when Bruce turns to him with a dull look in his once vibrant eyes, he clings to him tightly. And cries. Bruce clings back just as tight, Danny feels tears drip into his hair.
"Who did it." Danny whispers, voice too hurt to speak any louder, when he pulls back. His fingers curl around Bruce's jacket tightly, desperately. His eyes hurt with tears. "You said he was murdered, B. Please, who did it."
Bruce looks down at him, and for the first time it really does feel like he's looking down at him. His face is blank, and his eyes close in grief. There is no answer, a silent no.
Danny's face twists up all ugly like, and he shakes Bruce's jacket. "Bruce, please. Tell me who did it."
Bruce refuses, his face full of grief.
Danny never returns to Gotham.
Prior to Jason's death and post their reunion, Danny had slowly begun to improve in school. He started caring more, he was putting in more effort, he was doing his homework and was actually enjoying class. There was the bullying from Dash and the A-Listers, but it wasn't anything he couldn't handle, he was ignoring them for the most part.
Come Monday after the funeral, and Danny breaks Dash's nose when he starts up with his shit. He withdrew into himself, and it was like he was back to square one again, except this time it was much worse.
Everyone knew Danny was close friends with Jason Todd. So when news of his death finally reached the ears of Amity Park, the students of Casper High School kept their distance.
That following Friday, Danny dies in the portal and comes back. A month later he becomes Phantom, the ghost-fighting ghost. the ghost Phantom wears his hazmat suit partially undone, showing a tanktop he didn't wear in death under the initial suit while the sleeves are tied around his waist. Vicious, glowing lichtenburg scars travel up his arm and neck and torso, covering half of his face while a pair of scientist-like goggles covers his eyes. He's bitter and angry, showing off his death.
Look at me, Phantom's form says, I am a dead child. Look at me look at me look at me. Mourn me. I am a dead child. LOOK AT ME. MOURN ME.
A few weeks later he enters the ghost zone and realizes that he could find Jason. And he spends a weekend scouring the ghost zone for him. He finds Gotham in the zone, and rather than finding Jason, he finds Robin.
Danny didn't know he'd died. And he flies towards him, asks him if he's seen Jason, reveals that it's him, Danny Fenton. Robin stares at him, mouth agape, and peels off his mask to reveal Jason Todd.
They both cry, and when Danny tells him how he died, Jason looks pale in the face. "You didn't- you didn't kill yourself because of me, did you?"
Danny fervently denies it. No, no. He didn't, he didn't. It was an accident. Totally unrelated. But enough about that, what the hell happened? Bruce wouldn't tell him anything at the funeral.
Jason clams up, his ghostly face losing its color, and Danny curses himself. He tells Jason that he doesn't have to tell him, he doesn't have to say anything. They sit in silence.
"It was the Joker." Jason says.
That's all Danny needs to know. He nods quietly. 'I'll kill him.' He thinks to himself, a stubborn set in his jaw. "Okay."
It had always been a plan; a thought wriggling in the back of Danny's mind ever since Bruce told him that Jason had been killed.
Not died. Killed.
Danny wanted the fucker dead the moment he realized it. He just needed to know who did it. He thinks Bruce knew it too, could probably see it in his eyes the moment Danny asked him who did it. He isn't sure if he should hate Bruce more for keeping it from him now.
They spend hours together, just soaking in each other's presence. Danny tries to take him through the ghost portal, to bring him back to the land of the living. But much like Kitty, Jason's form is tied to the zone. Danny promises to visit every day.
And he does. Or he tries to. The grief doesn't go away, but with the comfort of knowing that Jason was on the other side, Danny feels a little better. He tells Jason about being Phantom, and Jason helps train him. It feels like they're kids again and are fighting just because they want to. Its a bout of familiarity in a place that feels unfamiliar. All they need are cigarettes.
And then six months later he loses him again. Danny scours the ghost zone for him for the second time, and this time he doesn't find him.
His haunt is still in the zone though. He didn't move on. He's still here, somewhere.
Danny is convinced that Jason was in the Elsewhereness, and looks for him in between ghost fights and his social life. He visits Jason's haunt every day, knowing that Jason should be able to feel when another ghost enters his home. He does not show up.
(He never thinks that Jason came back to life, and Jason doesn't remember his time in the ghost zone)
When Danny is nineteen, Vlad Masters blackmails him into going to another Wayne Gala. Begrudgingly, Danny goes. He's taller than he used to be, having inherited his dad's monstrous height and his mom's leanness. He has piercings, some of them he got after a lost bet from Sam and Tucker, and he's given himself an undercut.
He still prefers vests over suit jackets, and he still smokes. A little less than before, he sneaks a pack into his pocket before he leaves, along with a lighter. Vlad gives him a dirty look the whole time - he knows.
"Don't give me that look." "That stuff kills, you know" "I'm already dead."
It's like deja vu when he arrives; an awful bout of deja vu, that is. The paparazzi is still as bright and loud and annoying as it always was, and they don't recognize him at all. Something he thinks of as a soft mercy up until one of the reporters asks Vlad who he is.
Vlad smiles and tugs Danny into the camera frame, "Why, this is my godson!" He crows, and shoots Danny a look that is downright smug I'm sure many of you may know him as Daniel Fenton?"
If looks could kill, Vlad would be ash. Danny isn't quite sure why he still agreed to this -- blackmail or no. He felt itchy being in Gotham; jumpy. He's never forgotten his vow to kill the Joker, in fact it was something he still desperately wants.
But the threat of Rath, the name he chose for his evil future self, haunts him just as much as his murderous intent. If he kills the Joker, would he stop?
Danny's almost afraid of what he'll do if he ever lays eyes on the Joker in person. He doesn't think he'll be able to stop himself from wrapping his hands around that stupid clown's neck and watching the light leave his eyes.
He pushes the thoughts to the side, and smiles lopsidedly as cameras and microphones flood his face, reporters yelling over themselves as they clamor to get a shot of the old Wayne family friend.
Danny turns and walks inside without answering a single question, flexing his fingers in and out of fists. Vlad gracefully hurries after him, and Danny can hear his glare burning into his back.
"You told me to come," Danny hisses to him once he's beside him, meeting Vlad's gaze piercingly, "not that I should play nice."
"Don't embarrass me, Daniel." Vlad hisses back, trying to look the upmost calm as eyes turn onto them. "I'll make you regret it."
"You embarrass yourself, fruitloop." Danny shoots back, walking away before Vlad could get a retort in. He sees Bruce Wayne on the other side of the room.
His heart seizes with nostalgia. He hasn't seen Bruce since Jason's funeral, hasn't spoken to him either. He doesn't know how to feel about him, but he'd been keeping tabs on Bruce both as himself and as Batman.
Danny's feet carry him forwards before he can think about it, silently weaving between the throng of rich people vying for his attention. It's only when he gets closer does he see the little shadow clinging to his side: Damian Wayne.
The newest little bird, Danny realizes, and stifles a smile at the surly expression on Damian's face as two older women coo over him. He reminded him of Sam, who had long since stopped coming to these things the moment she was able to.
The feeling of eyes on him turns Danny's attention away from Damian, and instead finds them back on Bruce's, who stares at him with a little furrow between his brows. As if he recognized him, but he wasn't sure from there.
Danny grins crookedly the moment he's within earshot. "Mister B!" He exclaims, slipping into what remained of his Gotham street accent. Recognition flashed in Bruce's eyes, and the man smiled widely. "Long time no see, old man."
"Danny," Bruce says, his name breathing out like relief. He slips between the crowd surrounding him -- who are now watching Danny -- and pulls Danny into a close hug. "It's good to see you again."
Danny hesitates for a moment -- he wasn't expecting Bruce to hug him -- and returns the gesture. "It's good to see you too, Bruce." He admits. Bruce was still using the same cologne that he did when Danny was a kid. He blinks heavily.
He pulls away quickly, clapping Bruce lightly on the shoulder as Damian quickly latches onto his father's side again. Damian glares daggers at him, fingers digging into Bruce's pantlegs like a possessive little kid.
He made Danny's ghost sense tingle in the back of his throat, creeping up slowly like a spider before stopping suddenly before it reached his mouth. It hummed, and then disappeared.
Danny smothered a frown. Since when did Batman work with ectoplasm? “This must be Damian." He says to Bruce, and holds out a hand to Damian -- he doesn't crouch, he had a feeling that Damian would be less than appreciative if he did that. "You've really expanded the nest since the last time I saw you."
Damian's eyes narrow at him. Bruce laughs lightly, "Ah yes, Tim is around here somewhere. I'm sure you'll see him soon."
"Father," Damian says, his voice layered with an accent. He glares up at Danny with piercing green eyes. "How do you know this man?" He sounds distrustful, Danny respects that and drops his hand.
"This is Danny Fenton." Bruce says, and Danny lets him introduce him. "He was Jason's friend."
An expression similar to bewilderment flashes briefly over Damian's face, and he eyes Danny in disbelief. "Todd had friends?"
Oh. So that's how he wanted to be. Bruce had a little elitist on his hands. Danny's smile drops like a deadweight, and any lingering endearment he had hardens like ice in his chest, fury slowly taking its place like a flickering candlelight. "It's not polite to speak ill of the dead, Mister Wayne." He says coldly, his voice made of chips of ice.
Damian blinks, the disbelief disappearing from his face. The closest thing to a recoil Danny thinks he's going to get. He doesn't care. No one speaks about his best friend that way.
"I grew up with Jason, actually." He continues, breathing in slow and deep, trying to keep the ghostly possessive-protective-rage under control. "I was his best friend."
He turns, almost robotically, towards Bruce, and tries not to look so angry. "I'm going to go find Tim, Mister B." He says, and tries to offer up a weak smile for the man. It comes out as a grimace instead.
"And..." he pauses, flicks his eyes towards Damian, and then looks at Bruce. "I'll... try and keep in contact, B. Tell Dick I said hi, alright? I'll see you in a little bit."
Bruce nods, looking vaguely disappointed and sighing slow through his nose. Danny walks away as Bruce turns to address his youngest, and doesn't bother listening in on what he has to say.
He does, eventually, find Tim Drake. He spots him in a crowd instantly - it's hard not to, and he makes his way over to him. He's not sure Tim Drake would recognize him, Bruce didn't at first and Danny had been around him constantly.
Except Tim Drake does recognize him, much to Danny's surprise. They lock eyes and Tim immediately makes his way over to him. "Danny Fenton!" He says and stops in front of him, "What a surprise, we weren't expecting you tonight."
"Tim Drake," Danny replies, smiling a little as his earlier hurt begins to fade away. "I'm surprised you know me."
"There are pictures of you in the manor with Jason." Tim explains, stuffing his hands into his pockets with an easy-going smile. "It's hard not to know you."
"It’s hard not to know you too,” Danny retorts, a sly smile slowly spreading across his face. “Although you’re a lot taller than you used to be, when you were lurking around Bruce and Jason and I.”
Ohhh Danny recognizes him alright. One part due to all the news articles and tabloids on him after he was adopted by Bruce, and the other part because he remembers the little shadow lurking near plants pots and table legs that used to follow him and Jason around at galas just like these.
Knowing that Jason was Robin, he wonders if Jason knew he was there too.
The effect is immediate: Tim’s eyes grow comically large, and a red tint glows at the tip of his ears as he shrinks back like a turtle trying to hide into its shell. “You— you noticed that!?” He hisses.
“I did!” Danny grins, large and wide, stifling a laugh as the red tint spreads over Tim’s cheeks and nose. He looks mortified. Danny coos. “Aww, I thought it was adorable that Jason had a little shadow. I’m sure he would have loved you if you had just come over and said hi. He had a big soft spot for kids.”
Tim snorts and it— it almost sounds derisive? “Sure he would.” He looks sad, and the mirth in Danny’s chest shrivels up like a flower without light. The smile fades from his face, and all that’s left is a strange, staunch reminder that Danny and Bruce weren’t the only ones that probably mourned.
He touches Tim’s shoulder lightly, “Hey, I’m sorry.” He says, trying to look as apologetic as he feels. “I didn’t mean to make you feel bad. I’m sorry, I miss him too.” Like a fucking limb he missed him.
There’s something that flickers in Tim’s eyes, passing through too fast for Danny to realize what it is. He assumes its gratefulness, because Tim relaxes a little and offers him a weak little smile. “I wish I had talked to him.”
Danny sees an out and takes it, he forces out a short laugh, grinning widely. “I can tell you all about him if you’d like,” he offers, “I told Mister B I’d keep in touch anyways. I’ve missed him and Alfred quite a lot in the last few years.”
“Not Dick?”
“That dipstick wasn’t around often enough for me to form any sort of emotional attachment to him.” Danny says in a half-complaining tone, placing his hands on his hips. “Although I did like his puns.”
Tim snickers, “I’ll tell him you said that then. Nobody likes his puns.”
“Go on ahead,” Danny grins, laughter swirling in his chest and making his core thrum with warmth. Damn, he’s missed this family. “I stand by my decision. Puns are funny.”
“Let’s get a photo then.” Tim says with a hand already fishing in his pocket for his phone. “He’ll be devastated to know that you were here and he didn’t get to see you.”
“Sure.” And Danny sidles on next to Tim, throwing an arm around his shoulders — and making a noise of surprise when his arm was able to fit comfortably — as if he was just resting it on a counter.
He totally forgot how tall he was compared to Tim. Forgot that he’d been looking down the entire time they’d been talking. “Why’d I get my dad’s height.” He complains, and bends his knees as Tim raises the phone with the front-facing camera on.
Tim snickers under his breath, and takes the picture while they’re both smiling wide. Danny immediately stands up, and peers over Tim’s shoulders to look at the picture.
It’s a good one, with the fringe of Danny’s curls falling slightly over his left eye and making the dimple on his right cheek more prominent. He could see the barely-there smattering of freckles he had across his nose, the ones that became more prominent when the sun was out. His smile was lopsided, Danny’s favorite kind of smile.
He whistles lowly, “That’s a good one,” he says aloud, and smiles impishly at Tim when he looks at him. “You should send that one, I look hot in it.”
Tim snorts, his ears reddening as he looks down at his phone. “Yeah sure, no problem.” He says quickly, and Danny looks away when he pulls up the messenger app. He’s never felt comfortable looking over people’s shoulders when they were on their phone.
“I’m gonna go take a smoke break.” He shoves his hands into his pockets and curls his fingers around the box and lighter inside. “I’ll—“
“Be on the west-end balcony.” Tim finishes, the red in his ears darkening as he glances up from his phone to smile embarrassedly. “I know.”
Danny snorts, “Okay.” His voice is thick with amusement. “Let me know how Dipstick reacts, alright?” He backs up slowly, awaiting Tim’s response. Tim merely waves a hand at him, a weak gesture of “yeah yeah” that makes Danny grin before he flips around and marches towards his favorite smoking balcony.
———————
(Tim pulls up the family group chat and loads the selfie into the text bar. His face feels warm with embarrassment even as his thumbs fly across the screen.
Tim: look who i found at the latest charity gala :) [image]
Hee awaits eagerly a response, and finds he doesn’t have to wait long. Dick’s thought bubble appears on screen, then Cass’s — of which it only exists for a moment before disappearing.
Dick: holy shit, is that who i think it is?
Tim responds quickly, and his message sends.
Tim: yep. He wanted me to tell you that he thinks your jokes are funny.
Dick: they are funny
Tim rolls his eyes and thinks for a moment, really thinks. He weighs his pros and cons. And then his fingers fly across the screen again.
Tim: hey Jason are you not gonna say anything?
There’s no response for all of thirty seconds — of which it stretches on to an uncomfortably long minute — and then Jason’s thought bubble appears.
Jason: what do i have to say to a bunch of idiots blowing up my phone in the middle of patrol?
Tim: harsh. do you recognize the guy in the photo?
Jason’s response is instant. Too fast for him to have actually looked at the photo itself. He’s just trying to spite Tim then. Tim doesn’t care, he has the upper hand here
Jason: no and I don’t care, i have patrol
Tim knows he didn’t look at the photo, and yet he can’t help stifle a shit-eating smile and feign innocence
Tim: really? You and Danny used to be so close, color me surprised
His teeth dig into his lower lip, he doesn’t need to in order to hide a smile. But it gives him something to do. Jason is worryingly silent for a long, long time, and Tim can almost imagine him staring long and hard at the selfie. Tim knows he will be later.
Finally, Jason’s text bubble shows up. It exists for a long time, before finally Tim’s phone buzzes with his message alert.
Jason: that’s danny?
Tim feels all too gleeful. Smugness swirling in his chest like kicked up sand as he types his response: yep! Apparently he showed up today, although I’m not sure with who since I don’t see Miss Manson around here.
Damian: Father says to get off your phone, Drake. We are at a Gala and your behavior is most unbecoming
Tim: can it demon spawn, I was just telling Jason that his friend Danny is here
Damian: He can’t be too important if he doesn’t even know Todd is alive
Tim: how would you know that?
Damian: When Father introduced him as Todd’s friend, I expressed my surprise that Todd even had friends, considering how unpleasant he can be. Fenton became quite cross with me after that and quickly excused himself thereafter
Dick: you said what!? Damian that’s not okay
Damian: Father made that quite clear after Fenton left in a huff. My mistake for thinking that Todd had told his ‘supposed best friend’ that he was alive.
Dick: he didn’t even tell us we were alive at first
Damian: He did eventually, didn’t he? Clearly Todd doesn’t seem to care too much about Fenton if he hasn’t even informed him of his being alive at this point.
Jason’s thought bubble quickly pops up, and then dissipates, then pops up again. Tim quickly pockets his phone before he can see Jason’s response. He doesn’t feel smug anymore, just uncomfortable.)
———————
Stepping out onto the west-end balcony feels like a blast from the past. A painful one at that. Danny’s fingers dig into his cigarette pack, and he pulls it out with a sense of bittersweet familiarity.
It feels like a lifetime ago that he once stood here with Jason. The package clunks dully as his fingers scrape against the side, and he fishes a cigarette out of the box before stuffing it back into his pocket.
“Quite the night isn’t it.” He says to nothing, to ghosts of the past, to himself. He turns and sits on the railing, sticking his legs out like a tripping hazard while Gotham’s hot city wind blows through the air.
He looks up and only sees the ugly pollution yellow sky looking down at him. It’s an unfamiliar feeling to him. He loves the stars and yet when faced with a smog that covers it, he feels more at home.
Danny’s fingers find the lighter, and with a few clicks a small open flame appears in existence. There’s a poem here, he can feel it. But he feels too tired to find it.
The cigarette lights, and the lighter dies in response. Returning back to his coffin-like pocket until he needs to use it again. He pulls a leg up, resting his chin on his knee with a heavy, tired sigh.
He soaks in the sounds around him. The ugly city warmth nips at his jaw. The music inside is muffled by the force of two glass doors and walls on all four sides, and Danny can hear late night traffic coming by on the road nearby. It’s a special kind of ambience you can only find on the west end balcony.
Half a decade ago, Danny had played a part with that ambience with Jason. Now it was just him, and Jason was nowhere to be found. It left a hopeless kind of feeling in his chest. An all-suffocating kind of fear that filled him head to toe with an intensity only ghosts could have.
His body winds up like a spring, and Danny holds his breath. When he exhales two minutes later, the spring stutters and jolts, and his body relaxes with a tremble.
He misses Jason. He misses Jason.
Ghosts are emotional creatures. They feel it from their crown to their soles. And emotional wounds never really heal. They scab over and fester, waiting to be picked at again and again so it can bleed as fresh as it did when it first opened.
Danny’s grief is never going to go away, he thinks. It’s clung to him like a parasite; shaped him and molded him. The wound was too close to him when he died, and now it will stay with him forever.
He opens his eyes when his ghost sense tingles, a heavy feeling in his throat that is neither nicotine nor grief. It’s just like Damian’s, but stronger. Potent. Older. It reaches the top of Danny’s throat and sits at the base of his tongue, like a hand about to suffocate him.
He looks up, cigarette hanging off his lips, and the Red Hood drops down beside him. He stands in the same spot Jason once did, and that alone makes the ghostly core in Danny seize possessively.
Don’t you dare stand where he stood, it hisses, coiling around his lungs like smog. Danny grits his teeth and feels his ghost sense evaporate. He pulls the cigarette out of his mouth, and nicotine smoke pours out like a cheap version of his ghost sense.
“Red Hood.” He says plainly, his free hand coiling and uncoiling like cat’s claws against the railing. “A surprise to see you here.”
Danny knows through process of elimination who most of the Gotham vigilantes are: Dick is Nightwing, Bruce is Batman, Tim is Red Robin, Damian is Robin, and Cass is Orphan. There are a few who he doesn’t know, however. Like Batgirl and Red Hood.
It’s fine, he doesn’t need to know. Danny of all people understands the importance of a secret identity.
Red Hood doesn’t say anything, just stares at him as if he’s a deer in headlights. His body all tensed up like he isn’t sure what to do now that he’s here in front of Danny. Like he wasn’t expecting Danny to be here at all.
Danny’s brows furrow. “Sorry, am I in your spot?” He asks, and begins to push off the railing. “I didn’t think vigilantes used the Wayne Hall west-end balcony, I can leave if you want.”
He’s already begun to move towards the door.
The Red Hood lurches in his spot, “No!” He yells, and Danny stops in place with raising eyebrows. Red Hood’s fingers cringe, and he straightens up.
He’s shorter than Danny, he notes. Which isn’t much of revelation. Everyone is shorter than Danny.
“No,” Red Hood repeats, sounding sturdier than before, “No. You’re fine. I’m just stopping here for a quick rest before resuming patrol.”
…Danny doesn’t question it. It’s none of his business about other vigilantes and their practices. He shrugs and breathes out more smoke, “Alright.” He says, and walks back over to the railing to sit on it. “I’m Danny, by the way.”
The Red Hood nods, and a silence falls over them. Danny doesn’t care enough to make it feel uncomfortable, but the Red Hood seems unsettled by something. Lost in thought. He leans his back against the railing similar to Danny, and then switches a few seconds later to a new pose.
He does it again, and again, and again. Until finally he flips over and leans his stomach against the railing, arms resting against it. It is starkly like what Jason used to do, and Danny stares at him long and hard.
He frowns. And says nothing.
When Danny’s cigarette is nothing more than a butt of nicotine, he crushes it in his hand and watches the ash flutter down to the ground. The heat stings his hand, but its nothing his ghostly healing can’t fix.
The Red Hood is already holding out another one when Danny’s hand drifts to his pocket for the box.
Danny stares at him, sudden wariness opening up like floodgates that sit at the bottom of his stomach.
His frown deepens, his eyes flicker up and down at Red Hood. His hands hover over his pocket. “I have my own.” He says, and watches subtly as the Red Hood hides a wilt. As if he’d been expecting Danny to take it.
“Alright.” The Red Hood says, trying to sound unbothered. He retracts the cigarette away from Danny, quiet all the way. He’s looking away.
Danny plucks the cigarette out of his hand, startling the Hood enough that Red snaps back to look at him. Danny yanks his lighter from his pocket. “I won’t say no to a free cigarette.” He says, slightly muffled with the stick between his teeth. It lights.
Silence falls over them again, and when one minute stretches into five, whatever hope that had been digging into the shoulders of Red Hood finally pulls away and leaves him slumping subtly.
‘A ciggie for your thoughts?’ Nine year old Jason Todd whispers one night with an impish grin, holding up a cigarette pinched between his two fingers. ‘I stole it from my old man. He won’t even notice its gone.’
Danny is halfway through it when he speaks. “The Joker killed my best friend.” He says, and watches from the corner of his eye as the Red Hood flinches. Is he startled by Danny speaking, or startled by the bluntness of him starting?
“He beat him to death.” Danny continues, staring stone-faced away from Red Hood. His grief claws up his lungs and burrows into his heart again. His fingers dig into the railing. “He beat my best friend to death.”
The Red Hood is silent, his body as still as the grave. Silence stretches out between them both, and like he’d been thinking, the Hood finally speaks: “How do you know?”
He’s not holding the cigarette, he broke his and Jason’s rule. Danny bounces the stick between his fingers. “His ghost told me.” He says, taking a trembling breath. “His ghost told me so, before he disappeared.”
The Red Hood says nothing, and Danny gathers his thoughts. The ones that had been buried deep next to his core, shoved down ever since Danny learned of Rath and a terrible future where a world is destroyed by one ghost’s hands.
Danny has never said it out loud before. His face scrunches up briefly, and then smooths out when his eyes squeeze shut. “I’m going to kill him, Red Hood.” He murmurs when he opens his eyes, turning his face toward the vigilante. The sound is sucked out of the air.
The Red Hood stares at him, but he doesn’t say a word. Danny pushes on, teeth grinding into teeth as he flips his silvery scarred hand back and forth. Palm up, palm down. “It’s why I haven’t been back to Gotham in a while.” He admits, voice still quiet. “If I see the Joker I will kill him, and I won’t feel bad for it.”
“Not today though,” he says, and closes his hand, “today I’m here on a favor to Vlad Masters. Then after this I’ll go visit my friend. I need to apologize for not seeing his grave in a while. I’ll have to stop by a florist to see if they have any zinnias. Jay likes those.”
He takes out the cigarette in his mouth and breathes out one last cloud of smoke. And then he crushes the cigarette stick under his foot and walks back inside.
#….AND THATS ALL I HAVE FOR THIS AU#dp x dc crossover#dp x dc#dpxdc#danny fenton is not the ghost king#dpxdc crossover#dp crossover#dpdc#dp dc crossover#childhood friends au#whats the jasonxdanny ship name again??#Undead ship?#no no wait its dead on main#dead on main#cw cigarettes#cw smoking#smoking tw#oh fuck this got long (story of my life) but onfg i didnt wanna make#more than one part#anyways Danny and Jason are buddies uwu#thank god that tumblr has a seemingly endless word count#one sided timxdanny#tim’s crush on danny is basically the same thing#as a little sibling developing a crush on their older brother’s friend#he’ll get over it in a few months#its a small infatuation not to worry#danny is completely oblivious to it#thanks dc writers for making Tim imortally sixteen#it makes everyone else’s ages a little easier to remember#you can see me running out of steam at the last stretch of this monster thing
2K notes
·
View notes
Text
AGATHA ALL ALONG SENTENCE STARTERS
❛ You don't seem like yourself. ❜
❛ If you wanna be in control, you can be. ❜
❛ Is this really how you see yourself? ❜
❛ Do you remember why you hate me? ❜
❛ The things that you're roasting me for are the things that make me dangerous. ❜
❛ How long have I been here? ❜
❛ Call me "nosy," I'll cut out your tongue. ❜
❛ Can you put on some clothes? 'Cause you... 'Cause you're naked. ❜
❛ Do you remember pain? It kind of tickles, doesn't it? ❜
❛ Maybe I can't kill you, but I can make you wish you were dead. ❜
❛ I am not the only one that wants to see you dead. ❜
❛ Ugh! It really warms the heart. ❜
❛ You don't have a heart. ❜
❛ Be sure to tell the vengeance-seekers I said hi. ❜
❛ That's why I saved you from the spell you were under. ❜
❛ Wherever you are, a coven there shall be. ❜
❛ I feel really optimistic about this. ❜
❛ So you're a bit of a kook. Every witch has their process. ❜
❛ Witches like you are the reason people think we poison apples, and steal children, and eat babies. ❜
❛ Don't you miss the glory days? ❜
❛ The path you're currently on leads nowhere. ❜
❛ Hey! Where do you keep your jade eggs? I'm fresh out of marbles, and my pelvic floor is all over the place. ❜
❛ I haven't seen you since I made a really pointed effort to never run into you again.❜
❛ Historically, we as a group don't do well in courtrooms. ❜
❛ People like you are dangerous. ❜
❛ Are there any real witches in the house? ❜
❛ What a team of rejects. ❜
❛ This is just a really, really, really horrible party. ❜
❛ It's giving "middle-aged second chance at love" vibes and I'm here for it. ❜
❛ Okay, so a witch is really just another name for a bad girl, is that right? ❜
❛ I'm not saying that I wanna join the club or anything, but I would drink the blood of a virgin if it would smooth out some of these wrinkles. ❜
❛ So the hallucinations seem chill. ❜
❛ I can't protect you! ❜
❛ I do not wanna die here. This is not where I die. ❜
❛ They can take your power, but they can't take your knowledge. ❜
❛ I didn't think you had it in you. ❜
❛ We were supposed to look out for each other, but we didn't. That was our fatal mistake. ❜
❛ I wish we could go home. ❜
❛ People can't be replaced. ❜
❛ Are we in trouble? Like, more than we were ten minutes ago? ❜
❛ Honestly, I don't know how to feel. Do I hate her? Or do I want her phone number? ❜
❛ I'm feeling impatient. I'm feeling like I wanna cause some damage. ❜
❛ Once vengeance is loosed, you can't reel it back in. ❜
❛ The only way to end a curse is to face it. ❜
❛ Sad is better than angry. ❜
❛ You don't have to know a person's name to know who they are. ❜
❛ Are you really defending a noted serial killer, you creepy lurker? ❜
❛ The moral of the story, kids, is always finish what you started. Also, mercy is overrated. ❜
❛ Who better to commune with the dead than someone who's put so many in the grave? ❜
❛ I mean, or we could just slit her throat. ❜
❛ But we were getting along, weren't we? We were clicking. There was unity. ❜
❛ She's possessed! For real this time! ❜
❛ I hate ghosts. ❜
❛ Why do you hate me still?❜
❛ You were born evil. ❜
❛ Please take me with you. ❜
❛ She was protecting you. But you don't deserve it. ❜
❛ I couldn't... I couldn't control it. ❜
❛ Death comes for us all. ❜
❛ You're so much like your mother. ❜
❛ We love you more than we could ever hope to communicate in human words. ❜
❛ You don't need to be a psychic to see that you're a good egg. ❜
❛ Enjoy the now, baby. It's the only thing that's certain. ❜
❛ Nothing in my life has felt normal until I met you. ❜
❛ I want you to know the real me. ❜
❛ You're so adorably trusting. ❜
❛ Word to the wise, don't go sniffing around there. ❜
❛ You seriously don't know what kind of crazy that lady eats for breakfast. ❜
❛ I panicked, so I ran. ❜
❛ Could we, like, maybe not, with the physical violence? ❜
❛ Power doesn't interest me. ❜
❛ Yeah. Well, what you did was ehhh … but life goes on. Yours, anyway. ❜
❛ I mean, I've killed...uh...my share. But you don't see it holding me back. ❜
❛ Don't you dare feel guilty about your talent. You survived. ❜
❛ So you broke the rules. Big deal. That's what kept you alive. That's what makes you special. ❜
❛ I don't need you anymore. I don't know if I ever did. ❜
❛ If you really wanna finish this together, just know that I do not trust you. At all. ❜
❛ You'll get a nosebleed trying that hard to read my mind. ❜
❛ Hey, you want straight answers, ask a straight lady. ❜
❛ Tell me what more I should see, when I look at you. ❜
❛ You know, we really hated each other from the beginning. But now...I love you, guys. ❜
❛ I'm a forgotten woman. ❜
❛ Death comes for us all. It is what we all have in common. ❜
❛ I can see all the pieces falling into place. The gaps are filling in. ❜
❛ I'm telling you now because soon I'm not going to remember any of this. ❜
❛ I hope you'll join me. ❜
❛ I needed you. My coven. ❜
❛ What can I say? I like the bad boys. ❜
❛ I loved being a witch. ❜
❛ That's it? That's all the... That's all the time I get? ❜
❛ This can't be the end. It has to be the beginning. ❜
❛ I watch you. Just as closely as you watch everyone else. ❜
❛ No one in history has had special treatment like you. ❜
❛ You gave me nothing. You took. ❜
❛ Why do you let them believe those things about you, hmm? ❜
❛ What fresh horrors await us! ❜
❛ You seem relaxed. Usually at this point you're either complaining loudly or freaking out loudly. ❜
❛ It's nice. That feeling when your body knows it's safe. ❜
❛ Sometimes...boys die. ❜
❛ Congratulations, my love! I'm sorry I didn't have a ribbon for you to run through. ❜
❛ Why don't you want me? ❜
❛ Power looks good on you. ❜
❛ You do this and I will hate you forever. ❜
❛ Please let him live. Please, my love! ❜
❛ If you want to survive, get used to this feeling. ❜
❛ I cannot protect you from what's coming. ❜
❛ I saw you die. ❜
❛ And now, I'm a ghost. Can you dig it? ❜
❛ By the way, I did not sacrifice myself for you. I took a calculated risk. ❜
❛ You're making fun of me. This is just one of your tricks. ❜
❛ You have something of mine. I know you took it. ❜
❛ Why are you still here? Why won't you just die? ❜
❛ I'm sure he would forgive you for... whatever you did. ❜
❛ We could make a good team. You and me. ❜
#rp meme#sentence starters#inbox meme#rp prompt#roleplay meme#roleplay prompts#rp memes#sentence meme#sentence starter meme#*tv
388 notes
·
View notes
Note
Can I request headcanons with L, Light and Mello with a s/o who's a genius (like them) but acts stupid (like bimbo-ish) just to annoy people?
Notes: I'm SO sorry I took forever to get this out!
Warnings: n/a just fluff
Characters involved: L, Light, Mello
Gender-neutral reader, you/yours
L
Finds you intriguing.
You're like a puzzle to him. He wants to figure out your motives and understand why anyone would willingly act this way.
It doesn't take him long to understand you're smarter than you let on, however, your reasoning puzzles L a lot.
If you met him during the events of Death Note he immediately decides you're an asset and takes you to his side. You're like the Misa to his Light.
Your job would be to survey Misa, work in the same places as her, join her on any jobs. Since you're good at faking your bimbo personality you easily get along well with her.
At first Light even falls for the guise but with time he realises you're smarter than you look.
Even after Light understands your true personality L still keeps you around to help out. He often takes you with him when he's stalking surveying people and would even ask your opinions on the situation.
At first he used to find you annoying and his opinion of you was very similar to his opinion of Misa. However, with time L starts to find your interactions with others sort of amusing.
He sees your personality as a game, but outside of the Kira case he doesn't really interact with you.
To him, you're just another factor in the case.
Light
Hates it.
Unlike L, Light takes slightly longer to catch on to your personality.
You meet through Misa since you are friends with her. At first, Light presumes you're just like the other girls Misa works with but as time goes on he realises your true potential.
He only gets interested in you once you confess you think he's Kira.
Light's first instinct is to kill you but he refrains from doing so since he thinks he could use you. To him, you're just another pawn he can control to win against L.
L might have some semblance of a bond with you but Light only sees you as an object for his schemes. If he feels that you won't be easily manipulated then he doesn't bother associating with you since you are no use to him.
However, if you are easily swayed his way then Light uses you as an unsuspecting source for information.
With L and the rest of the team constantly hovering over his shoulder Light needed someone on the outside to help him execute his schemes.
Over time he comes to appreciate your wit as it makes it easier to carry out his plans. However, he still expects you to listen to him and hates when you get too creative.
He sometimes wishes you were the one with the Death Note instead of Misa because that would make everything happen so much more smoothly.
He expects you to have your regular personality when interacting with him. If you act like a bimbo when it's just the two of you he gets visibly annoyed.
While you are a genius like him you don't posses the almost inhumane lack of empathy Light is known for, which is why you don't realise the bond you share with him is purely that of a master and his pawn.
Mello
A mixture of the two.
Like L, he finds it weird that you would want to act like a bimbo especially since being a genius is something he always strived for growing up.
To him it's almost like you don't value the skillset his entire life revolves around.
However, he also sees the value in your mannerisms.
Unlike Near, Mello chose to associate himself with the mafia, that meant he needed trustworthy allies who he could rely on to get the work done.
At first he sees you as just another one of the bimbos his men would use as flings and then discard of, but after a few days he realises your true intentions.
You played the role of the innocent girl hopelessly in love with a mafia man yet in reality were using them for your fulfillment. (This can be anything from stealing from the guy you were with to leveraging his connections to complete some personal vendetta.)
Once Mello realises your true persona his first instinct is to get rid of you.
There is only space for one genius in his circle and he can't risk being potentially overthrown.
However, you make him see the value in having you around.
With time, you, Mello, and Matt become a team of sorts. You become a trio known for controlling the mafia groups.
Most people simply presumed you were Mello's bimbo girlfriend he kept around for eye-candy, which made it easy for him to use you to get what he needed.
However, unlike Light, Mello knows the value of having reliable allies (like Matt). He never really places his full trust in you, but with time Mello comes to appreciate you.
#death note x you#l death note#death note l#death note x reader#l lawliet#yagami light#death note x y/n#l x reader#l lawliet x reader#l lawliet x y/n#l x y/n#l x you#l headcanons#light yagami death note#light x reader#light yagami x reader#light yagami x you#light yagami headcanons#light yagami x y/n#mello fluff#mello dn#mello x reader#mello death note#mihael keehl#mello x you
2K notes
·
View notes
Text
How SKZ would react to you calling them your boyfriend on travels!
Full word count: 2,002
details: Basically I'm going on solo trip abroad for my birthday soon and as a safety precaution I've decided to use low key photos of SKZ members and telling weirdos that they're my boyfriend and I kept thinking about what if I accidentally ran into one of the boys not knowing its them and then to show a photo of themselves saying that they were my boyfriend. I doubt the boys would ever make someone uncomfortable intentionally but I'm extremely jumpy with strangers especially men haha so I could definitely see this happening! Anyway hope you enjoy:)
Warning: One curse word was said! Mentions of stalking and harassment but no actual harassment unless you count Lee Know being slightly mischievous. Also if you do workout please be sure to have a spotter when lifting heavy weights ^_−☆
Thanks again for the support on Lip Mask while that was the first story I posted. This scenario was in the works well way before Lip Mask was even written but due to the support of SKZ Tumblr community, I felt wayyy more confident and comfortable with sharing this idea with you all! Hope you enjoy ❤️
Hyung / Maknae / Masterlist
Bangchan (616 words)
It was the first day of your trip after a long flight and only arriving at 3 in the afternoon you realized your fight against jet lag might be stronger than you thought. The subtle feeling of sleep as you took a shower in the hotel not doing much aid. But with a few light slaps to your face you made your trek outdoors to explore the city hoping the walking and maybe some sugar would keep you up till nightfall. With that thought you grabbed your bag and threw on a scarf to keep the chill away.
So far after walking around for a bit, your shoulders started to tense. There were a lot of people and while crowded spaces aren't that scary there was the possibility that anything could happen. What if someone tried to steal your phone? You did your best to grip your phone in your pocket. What if someone tries to kidnap you? With that thought you began looking around your shoulder hoping to only feel at ease as the city rushed past you but instead, you could see a steady black-clothed figure hurriedly following you.
Panic began to strike. You knew in your research of the city that there had been some issues with men harassing women for dates going so far as to follow them for blocks on end. You knew you couldn't go back to the hotel not wanting the newfound stalker to stalk you even more and worse you didn't even know where you were, the buildings all looked the same.
Taking a deep breath you tried your best to high-tail it out of there only to feel your heart in your chest sink to your stomach when you realized the corner you turned on was mostly a quiet street nothing compared to the bustling city a few streets over.
With a deep breath, you pulled out your phone and swiped to the image of your bias Bang Chan hoping the stranger wasn't into K Pop and would accept the fact that you having a boyfriend was enough to back off.
"I have a boyfriend and this is him, I'm on my way to meeting him right now so can you stop following me," You said eyes slightly closed and phone outreach stopped the man at his pace. After a few moments of awkward silence, you began to talk, "Look he boxes for fun, I’d turn around if I were you," when you got no response but the quiet sounds of a chuckle you opened your eyes to see a very similar bright red scarf. So similar it even has your initials sewn in on the bottom just like the one you're wearing. Without thinking you reached for your scarf in your other hand.
Blood rushed to your cheeks as it began to click. This man wasn't stalking you but out of some weird concern trying to hand you your scarf back. You quickly looked up at the guy ready to apologize only to feel the blood on your face rise even more. God if you were to compare a cherry red tomato to your face it probably be hard to tell the difference at this moment.
"When I said I would protect you all this didn't really come to mind" He giggled a bit more. You slowly put your phone away wondering if by chance there was a pothole you could bury yourself in.
He moved to put the scarf around your neck, “Jagi you should really stay warm come on, you hungry? I wanna get to know my girlfriend a bit better yeah,” he said nodding his head in a direction up the street.
Lee Know (499 words)
Your stomach growled at you as you rounded the 10th corner of the day. None of the restaurants nearby were speaking to you. Deciding that you were far too hungry to look for a decent spot you wandered into the nearest convenience store.
Quickly deciding a particular appealing hot meal you wandered to the snack aisle, hoping to find a dessert that might even out your salty meal. After contemplating a few candy bars your stomach growled again. As hungry as you were you knew the dessert would either make or break your meal and luckily the store wasn't too filled so you knew checkout wouldn't take long nor finding a decent seat. Weighing your options you decided to go back to the cold section.
Not feeling ice cream as it was already extremely cold you didn't need your teeth shaking too, you decided to look over the choices of pudding. But as you looked you couldn’t decided between Carmel or the Coffee jelly. Both were appetizing but what would bring you the most joy?
In your thought of pondering you heard a deep sigh from your left. Not thinking much of it you decided to move over slightly in hopes whoever needed the pudding would still be able to grab whatever they wanted. But as you continued to decided the sigh moved to your right. So you moved to the right slightly at one point you and the heavy sigher moved left to right back and forth that it seemed to be a game this stranger was playing with you.
With your own heavy sigh you put the caramel pudding back deciding the sweet treat would taste bitter from this unnecessary transaction. Quickly holding your head high without looking at the stranger you moved to decide on a drink.
But before you could grab the tea of your choice the sigh came back. Quickly you threw the drink in your basket and then grabbed your phone. Hoping that the photo of Lee Know would cause the sigher to get lost.
“Look i don’t know what game your playing at but this is my boyfriend he’s just around the corner,” you warned showing the lockscreen in the stranger direction.
A loud laugh was pulled that peak your interest, he sounded familiar quickly looking up you nearly dropped the basket in your hands to which he grabbed to help support you.
“Oh but jagi I’m already here! You should be careful you could have broken the jelly” He began to chastise you still laughing with no concern. A quick heat of a blush went to your cheeks as you tried to process this all. Forgetting your hungry stomach as it decided now was the perfect time to growl. The blushing deepens with each giggle. He raised his brow with another quick laugh.
“Come on i’ll pay and then we can go on that date we supposedly planned,” he said motioning you to follow after taking your basket from your hand.
Changbin (374 words)
With the start of the New Year you had grown dedicated to going to the gym. Even going as far to go while on vacation. Ever since you began your workout journey you've had the displeasure of many unwelcome interactions from the male population. Going so far as having to use your bias Changbin as your lock screen. It had worked so far most giving up when they realized how built the man in the photo is and leaving you alone.
Normally you try the buddy system but this being a solo trip you had no one else but yourself and Changbin's photo to protect you. Deciding to start with the treadmill to warm up, you felt the familiar eyes of men as they watched you move. With steady breath, you turned up your music and focused on the TV in front of you.
After 30 minutes you decided to move to the bench press. Deciding that while you didn't have a spotter, it should be fine if you used extremely light weights. You noticed a peculiar muscular guy watching you intently.
You tried to shake his eyes off you got into position but before you could even start the same guy came running over lifting the weight off completely. Unable to hear him you turned your music down after he finished talking and only opened your phone to show him the picture of your saver.
"Look dude this is my boyfriend and he's almost here so I'd step back if I were you," You said not even looking at him reaching for your bottled water. Hearing a big huff of air leaving his lips you finally slowly turn to look ready to set a glare on him. Only to see a somewhat concerned Changbin looking at you as he smirked. A blush creeps up to your cheeks eyes going wide.
"Well seems like your boyfriend already here and wouldn't recommend you dead lifting without a spotter. Why don't you let me help Jagi" He said smoothly. You on the other hand clutching your heart at not only making a fool in front of your bias and the fact he called you jagi.
Definitely proud of yourself for keeping up this gym routine now.
Hyunjin (513 words)
Today had been a tad bit rough on your vacation. Your phone dying so you had no idea how to get back to your hotel that and your favorite shoes had a hole in them the only good thing being that you bought a new pair. And well that you did fine a decent book burning away in your bag asking you to read its text. Quickly trying to figure out your safe haven and hopefully an outlet.
With it being extremely late you stumble upon a bar filled with books and laughter as different types of people filled it. It was a book bar, one of the many to do things on your list, maybe your luck was changing. The bar wasn't too crowded but it definitely wasn't easy finding a spot next to an outlet. Tucked away in a corner you pull out your charger and the book in your bag sipping away on the bubbling beer.
After walking for hours and shivering in the cold the warm bar and the soft chitter chatter of others around you warmed you as the author's words pulled you in. The only problem is that the person next to you kept bumping into your left shoulder. You tried shaking them off which didn't work and after a glance at your still-dead phone, you sighed taking another sip. If only it were on you'd show the stranger your lock screen of your bias Hyunjin maybe his piercing eyes and oozing confidence would scare them away. With your luck, the guy left and you let out a breath you didn't realize you had been holding in, finally able to get back to your book.
But just as if the universe was testing your patience the same guy, you assumed, came back and began to softly poke you. Luckily as he did your phone turned on.
Without even looking you unplugged your phone showing the strange man your screen, "See this guy he's my boyfriend, and he's supposed to meet me here so if I were you I'd stop touching me, he can be the jealous type and you wouldn't like to see him that way," You said setting your phone down and turning the page of your book.
But the poker was relentless and poked you again with a little laugh. You quickly closed your book marking your finger in the pages as a steady glare brought you to the source of your annoyance.
Though everything went silent or rather your heart stopped as you realized it was the same man on your home screen that went out of his way to poke you. Fuck you thought.
"Well I was gonna ask if you let me plug my phone up too. Didn't know I came off as the jealous type," he said looking down as if lost in thought. Talk about strange luck.
“Hmmm Jagi put the book away seems we need to talk about the boundaries of our relationship,” he said plugging his phone into your charger. Yeah, maybe you should get lost more often.
After writing author notes: I wanted these to end on a goodish note and leave with the boys being somewhat interested but i hope i didn’t feed your delusions too much as this did with mine. Also sorry for the various word counts but some scenarios were easier to write more for than others but I enjoy all the boys equally so I didn't want to write more for the sake of more but just the context needed for each scene! Might be a bit till i can figure out the maknaes i really want the scenarios to be somewhat unrealistic but realistic to the boys interest and things they'd probably be doing on vacations days. If you want to speed up the process I'm open to ideas for the rest until then I believe some more fluff for the other boys are in the works.
Take care eat well and don't forget to touch grass every once and a while ( ˘ ³˘)♥︎
#skz#stray kids x you#stray kids fluff#stray kids x reader#stray kids scenarios#stray kids oneshot#stray kids ot8#bang chan x reader#lee know x reader#changbin x reader#hyunjin x reader#bang chan#changbin#lee know#hyunjin
128 notes
·
View notes
Text
Krakoan Diaspora floods the labour market
Okay everybody shut up, Astonishing X-Men Infinity Comic #13 said something interesting.

Fuck Mr Toppi. Get him, Chris.
This situation is a newly introduced C plot that I have a feeling will connect to the A plot soon. This guy on the right is Nick. He's a construction worker of some kind who is behind on child support and is getting fired right now. It's painful to watch this guy lick boot as this capitalist pig blatantly tells him his labour isn't cheap enough due to an influx of exploitable geographically external workers. It's an old lie, easily believed.

I see you Marvel, making these workers dark skinned to cover your bases. We find out Nick's a good worker, has never taken a sick day, defends those stealing his labour, and either didn't join a union or did but is really sorry about it. It's not 100% clear. Either way none of that shit matters because there's cheaper labour available.

The company doesn't see you as a person
It's implied to be an industry-wide thing, at least locally - mutant work crews are utilising their hyperspecific powers in concert to finish jobs way quicker than any human possibly could. It's implied that they don't own their own labour and are being exploited - the mutant workers are drastically increasing profits, they're 'fast' but they're being paid the same hourly rate, they're 'cheap.'
The parasite class, like Murray here, are making fat stacks by employing mutants to finish jobs quicker. The mutants get paid the same as less efficient workers and not sharing the increased profits their labour generates. The labour supply and dividends are so high, either from increased profit per worker or high numbers of mutant workers (likely both,) that they're cutting human workers altogether.

'Thousands of desperate mutants to exploit, Nick'
The parasite class are also employing a favourite tactic - keeping focus off their greed (and probable illegal practices) by scapegoating the migrant mutant workers. Instead of slaying this man and redistributing stolen wealth, Nick's anger is directed at his working class brother. Nick really should have joined that union, or should consult it if he's a member. Striking is ineffective when your labor is no longer required, but these mutant workers have collective bargaining power. Ideally, they'd be class conscious and strike in solidarity with their human brothers, but I don't think this is that kind of story.

Never forget Murray is the enemy
Skin here is an exploited mutant worker. There's no indication he's scabbing, just existing in the same labour market as Nick. He's being paid far less than his labour produces, and blamed for Murray being a greedy fuck. Both workers need money to live under capitalism yet they're set at odds with each other. Mutant workers could be migrants or automation - the parasites do not care about anything except the numbers going up, and they use any available resource for that. Oppression is no guarantee of intersectional solidarity, sadly.
This relaunch of the Infinity Comics has had a very consistent theme - radicalisation of the vulnerable by the predatory. I'll continue to cover this arc as the issues drop as it's an interesting and relevant choice of focus. I hope that conflict leads to understanding and solidarity, but I doubt it. The true big bad here is capitalism, but the villain is Murray, not Nick. I'm wary that Nick is dark skinned to sidestep angry white guy shouting 'they took our jobs,' but another theme of this run has been people slipping through the cracks.
People who are suffering or who have been wronged facing violence and imprisonment when they need support. Folks ground down by a rigged system lashing out at the dehumanised other. It's certainly true to life, but Murray the capitalist is safe in this narrative, as in life. It's possible he'll be secretly a supervillain, demon, gangster etc and become an acceptable villain to topple - but as long as he's just a banal greedy fuck - a very legal thing to be, he'll prosper while the workers suffer and fight each other. Your boss and the company are nobody's friends. They are very good at wearing the shell of a person to exploit loyalty, but they get fat off your labor and will discard as soon as it's profitable.
A Mr Toppi is mentioned in the story as presumably the owner. You'll notice that he's not working, performing no labour yet owns a very profitable business. Mr Toppi has capital. Know your rights and build solidarity with other workers because they're the same as you. I know this is cliché but there's so many more of us than there are of them. The individual is replaceable but the working class is not. Also, don't scab.
#skin#x comics#x men#infinity comics#capitalism#wage theft#parasite#workers of the world unite#marvel#comics#from the ashes
86 notes
·
View notes