#clockwork is just a tired old man

[moonfoxgazer]

"When something happens, it's always one of you three-"

It was an idea that lived rent free in my head that I ended up putting way too much effort into.

[ghostreblogging]

Dp x dc scenarios I forgot

Danny had just moved into the Wayne manor. The whole situation was messed up. Danny had been regularly targeted by mysterious beings and Danny being the second removed cousin of the Waynes was placed with Bruce. It did not help that he had black hair and blue eyes.

When Danny finally came from the airport he immediately requested to go to his room. And they were very understanding of his situation and didn't push much further. And left him alone.

Until Dick came over to check on him. And found him putting square papers in the corners and windows. All of them having been written in unknown language. That was faintly glowing green.

That was deeply. . . . Concerning. So Dick softly made himself known and slowly asked

"Um, whacha doing?" The teen turned to Dick, quickly like a spring being unloaded. Quick and precise. His eyes seemed so unmoving, like he was judging his very existence.

"Sorry. . . I am just putting up wards. Keeps the voices quiet, and the dead quieter."

Dick softly inhaled and mumbled " not dealing with that , alone. And decided to bring some reinforcements. Quickly

----

Danny was more than annoyed. His parents managed to mess up big time to awaken old curses on the Fenton family bloodline. And now it was targeting him. As the currently strongest Fenton descendant .

I mean they were weak but they had sacrificed themselves and only have mind on their vengeance and In return became blood hounds that were annoying and loud.

And unmoving in their resolve.

He was losing a lot of sleep over this. Finally his parents decided to do something and in the mean time sent him off to a distant relative. Hoping that changing of custody can change his last name and forgive him from the curse.

Spoiler alert it didn't.

When he finally arrived at the manor he was already ready to pass out from exhaustion. And walked directly to his room and started preparing wards. It should help. In the middle of the preparation the oldest came and literally told him what he was doing. It didn't help that he was still cranky and that made him much weirder than usual. The man made a weird face and quickly excused himself.

Great another person who thinks he is a weirdo.

"Just what language is this" ughh another voice. He was not in the mood to play exposition. Nor in the mindset.

"The language of the unborn. " He just started quickly not done with the wards. It still needed protection against tampering.

"Uh huh"

"What does it do?" Another asked

"Keeps the voices away, the sources in the primordial soup and the forgotten whisperers as just a trace" he is aware he is being like clockwork but who cares. He is too tired to care.

[dcxdpdabbles]

de-aged Danny is one of my babies,

Shit hits the fan with the giw and Danny is super injured and Clockwork has to mess with some things so Danny doesn’t return to his core being vulnerable and sends him millions of miles away to Gotham and in the process Danny becomes 6/10 years old and is weeks healed due to being smaller and costing less ectoplasm but is still achy, Danny is steered to Jason’s apartment where he just got off his shift and then his is the twist! Jason is mute due to an accident with the joker and Batman (batman unintentionally causing his muteness) and out of reflex of a child on his counter hand first into a box of Cheerios let’s put a exasperated noise of flames and a lighter and Danny responds with his own spark of electricity and Jason is shocked (hehe) that Danny can understand and even communicate can he just lets out everything he’s been doing since “holy shit I can talk to someone normally” and then he realizes this child has the same scar as him and is pissed but Danny calms him down and calms the pits and he’s like “okay you’re mine now shit- I’m like Bruce- no. I’ll think about this later-“ Danny is super cute and Jason is having a field day with parent hood and Jason gives Danny a comm for when he goes out but he’s only allowed to speak in ghost speak and the rest are confused when Jason sprints away and they follow to see Danny in Jason’s arms being lulled to sleep with a man on the ground knocked out or dead who knows not Jason because it was shoot & punch and ask questions later and then Danny says sleepily “Oh your daddy’s brothers, hi” like it’s normal to meet family in this situation and Jason puts him to bed before signing “Say anything to Bruce and you will never be called uncle or attend his birthday in your life.”

Bruce only finds out when Jason some how ends up super injured and can’t sign and Danny translates (no editing just straight he said fucking hell) and introduces himself as Danny Todd, Bruce privately cried a little

The Waynes knew that Jason had become far more distant since his accident. Bruce blamed himself, but in the end, it was Joker all over again.

The family had been on other missions when a distress call from Bruce came in. They all raced to give aid- if it was Bruce calling, then you know it was a huge deal- only to find their father figure pressing his hands desperately to the neck of a bleeding Jason.

The Joker had sliced his neck in one of his sick games.

They were able to get him to medical aid and save his life, but the damage to his vocal cords had been too severe. Jason would never be able to speak again.

Since then, Jason has kept his distance. The whole family was fluent in sign language- one of the first of many languages Bruce had them learn for their Bat training- but it only helped them if Jason wanted to sign around them.

It felt like the second oldest was actively trying to avoid the acknowledgment of his injury. Little by little, Jason began to drift away from the family. He no longer arrived early for family dinners to help Alfred cook, he did not say for games or movies afterward, he found excuses to not hang out with the family members, and even after patrol, he left as soon as he finished.

Even texts were becoming less and less frequent. The Wayne children attempt to surprise visit him just so they can make sure he isn't alone until Jason starts jumping between safe houses.

Jason is isolating himself, and the Waynes are alarmed by the way he is retreating into himself. This continued for months, and nothing they did worked to help him.

Despite the desperate attempts to connect to him, Jason was too far gone to be reached. He did not die, but they lost him all the same.

Then, one day, out of the blue, Jason's distance changed. Yes, he was still not coming around the family much, but the sadness on his shoulders loosened.

His demeanor was still tired, but not as if his soul was exhausted. He still ran off after patrol, but instead of a shameful shuffle, his stride was more excited.

No one knew why, but Wyanes breathed a sigh of relief at the change.

They also had some theories.

"He has a lover!" Dick exclaims after watching Jason run off the second Bruce dismisses them. He had stopped to clean himself up a little before riding out as Jason, the civilian. "He's going to go get ready for a hot date."

"He found a new book series." Duke offered as Jason seemed to be writing in a little notebook. He was thoughtful and dazed as he wrote like whatever notes he took were something he would revisit again. "He is writing fanfiction again."

"His crime empire is being threatened, so he is slowly picking off traitors," Tim proposed after seeing Jason upgrade his security to his home and safe houses. He even added a new line to the cons so that he could listen to his home like a Bat version of a baby monitor. "Doing it quick and quietly to not let them escape."

"He is going back to school!" Steph announced happily when she saw him at the store buying school supplies. "He can finally get that diploma he has always wanted!"

"He has found a new passion for a hobby," Damian countered after seeing Jason look over his old art easel. Jason had asked Damian what he recommended for a beginner. "It's allowing him to have an outlet in a creative, healthy manner."

"He has fallen for a book character again and can't tell the difference between reality and Fiction." Bruce fretted after seeing Jason chuckle to himself at post-it notes that had little hearts in his lunch box. They were signed by Jason's favorite characters in a writing that was reasonably similar to Jason's.

Cass only smiled knowingly, but she always seemed to know more of what was happening than the rest, no matter the situation.

The only other person who knew more than her was Alfred, but that man would never share secrets with anyone for any reason.

Jason seemed unaware of their theories or concerns (Bruce) since he was always busy doing whatever he was doing. It got to the point they decided to follow him about, only becoming more confused when Jason visited places like pre-schools and kid-friendly parks around the city.

It didn't help that Jason caught on to the fact he was being followed, leading the Bats all over the city to random locations and had them fumbling about what was a natural destination and what was retaliation for the trailing.

Then, one night, while the Bats were meeting up on a rooftop for some briefing and a breather, the new con line sprung to life, scaring everyone connected to it out of their skins.

"There is a strange man in the house!" A voice screeched. A young voice, one that didn't even sound like it belonged to someone who had reached their double digits.

At once, Jason jumped from his slouched-over position near the building's roof door and flung himself over the edge. His grabbing hook hissed as the large man threw himself across the rooftops frantically.

Stunned, the Bats watched him go, unsure of what was happening, until the young voice spoke again, a soft whisper. "He is in the hall- he has a knife."

A strange crackle of fire and electricity was heard over the con, and it took them all a moment to realize that it had come from Jason. The child- a boy based on the voice- responded with a slight tremble. "I'm hiding in my closet. I'm scared."

The words of a distressed child kickstart their brains, and everyone snaps to attention.

"Oracle, where is the signal originating from?" Bruce snaps, throwing himself over the edge to follow Jason. The rest of the family is right behind him.

"Jason's safe house in Uptown Gotham," Babs responds instantly with the accompanying clicking of her keyboard. She sucks a breath through her teeth in a pained hiss. "B, the address for Jason's safe house... it's connected to Upper Smiles Preschool for Danny Todd. Jason is marked as his father."

There is ice in everyone's veins when she says that as Danny- Jason's son- lets out a choked sob, then a scream that horrifies everyone as they try to run faster. "He found me! Help! Help! Daddy! Help!"

A boom goes off across the communicator, and they know Jason is responsible for the nose, but there is no explosion. Not that it matters.

They, too, understand what Jason meant by the strange noise he made- it's a protective rage that someone would dare to even think of harming one of their own.

Every Wayne pushes themselves past their limits, unwilling to let themselves be too late.

"Hold on, sweetheart, help is on the way. Hit him with anything around you until it gets there." Babs tells him, her voice cracking as Danny cries, and a man yelling can be heard.

"You little shit!" An unknown roars, and everyone hates him instantly. "I'll teach you some fucking manners!"

"Let me go! Let me go!"

They are ten minutes out even when they drop into the batmobile and company bikes. Jason is only eight. But every second feels like a lifetime as they listen to what Danny is going through.

There are sounds of struggles, of a tiny voice screaming and crying, then- gunshots.

Two loud and clear gunshots. Then silence, the kind that makes even a grave loud.

Bruce's grip on the steering wheel tightens to the point of pain, and everyone is in no better state. The silence over the con is just as devastating as Jason's mournful crackle, like a dying fire.

No. No gods, no, please don't let this mean Danny is-

"Not to worry, dear child, I am here." Alfred's warm, soothing voice is heard, and everyone almost collapses in relief. Danny's cries are muffled like his face is pressed against something as Alfred coos. "It's alright. It's alright, you're safe now. Shh"

Jason makes a sound similar to thunder.

"Yes, Master Jason, I was in the neighborhood. I wanted to bring my great-grandson a little present and saw this healthen mucking about where he does not belong. I shall be moving Danny to the manor."

It's a command that does not allow any arguing, but no one dares to say anything as they collectively change direction to the manor. Patrol for the night has been canceled.

They had a new little addition to the family that needed them more than ever. Now that they knew about him, they would never allow Jason to keep Danny away from them.

Later in the night, after hugs, kisses, and greetings, Danny is painting alongside Damian. He standing on a small stool to reach the easel, wearing an apron with the Batman symbol, and is smiling like there are no troubles in the world.

Everyone's heart melts when he asks them if they can sit still for him to paint a family portrait. He isn't Jason's by blood, but that has hardly mattered to a family such as the Waynes.

All they need to know is that Danny was found wandering around Jason's old safe house, speaking in the strange sounds that Jason could make, and was the cause for the second oldest to regain his joy of life.

All that mattered was that tiny, little six-year-old Danny Todd was one of theirs, and they would love him with all their hearts.

Master Post Link

[little-pondhead]

Your Ancient History, Written In Wax

-

Danny knew he should have put better security around the Sarcophagus of Eternal Sleep. It wasn’t even Vlad who opened it this time! The fruitloop was too busy doing his actual mayor duties because for some godforsaken reason, the man got re-elected.

No, it wasn’t Vlad. And it wasn’t Fright Knight, either. Nor the Observants. Who opened the Sarcophagus, then? Danny didn’t have time to find out as Pariah Dark promptly tore open a hole in reality and hunting Danny down.

The battle was longer this time. He didn’t have the Ecto-Skeleton, as that was the first thing Pariah had destroyed. The halfa had grown a lot over the past few years, and learned some new tricks, but apparently sleeping in a magic ghost box meant that Pariah had absorbed a lot of power. The bigger ghost acted like a one-man army!

Amity Park was caught in the middle of the battle, but the residents made sure it went no further than that. Vlad and the Fentons made a barrier around the town to keep the destruction from leaking. Sam, Tucker, and Dani did crowd control while Danny faced the king head-on.

Their battle shook the Zone and pulled them wildly between the mortal plane and the afterlife. Sometimes, residents noticed a blow from Pariah transported them to the age of the dinosaurs, and Phantom’s Wail brought them to an unknown future. Then they were in a desert. Then a blazing forest. Then underwater. It went on like that, but no one dared step foot outside of Amity. They couldn’t risk being left behind.

It took ages to beat him, but eventually, Danny stood above the old ghost king, encasing his symbols of power in ice so they couldn’t be used again. He refused to claim the title for himself. Tired as he was, Danny handed the objects off to Clockwork for safe keeping and started repairing the damage Pariah had done to the town. The tear he’d made was too big to fix, for now, so no one bothered. They just welcomed their new ghostly neighbors with open arms and worked together to restore Amity Park.

Finally, the day came to bring down the barrier. People were gathered around the giant device the Fentons had built to sustain it. Danny had brought Clockwork to Amity, to double check that they had returned to the right time and dimension.

Clockwork assured everyone that they were in the right spot, and only a small amount of time had passed, so the Fentons gave the signal to drop the shield.

Very quickly did they discover that something was wrong. The air smelled different. The noise of the nearby city, Elmerton, was louder and more chaotic. Something was there that wasn’t before, and it put everyone on edge.

Clockwork smiled, made a remark about the town fitting in better than before, and disappearing before Danny could catch him.

Frantic, Danny had a few of his ghost buds stay behind to protect the town while he investigated.

He flew far and wide, steadily growing horrified at the changes the world had undergone. Heroes, villains, rampant crime and alien invasions. The Earth was unrecognizable. There were people moving around the stars like it was second nature and others raising dead gods like the apocalypse was coming. Magic and ectoplasm was everywhere, rather than following the ley lines like they were supposed to.

Danny returned to Amity.

The fight with Pariah had taken them through space and time. Somewhere along the way, they had changed the course of history so badly that this now felt like an alien world.

How was he supposed to fix this?

-

In the Watchtower, The Flash was wrapping up monitor duty while Impulse buzzed around him, a little more jittery than usual. The boy was talking a mile a minute, when alarms started blaring an alarming green. Flash had never seen this alarm before, and its crackling whine was grating on his ears.

Flash returned to the monitor, frantically clicking around to find the issue, but nothing was popping up. No major disasters, no invasions, no declarations of war. Nothing! What was causing the alarm?

Impulse swore and zipped to a window, pressing his face against it and staring down at Earth. “Fuck! It’s today isn’t it? I forgot!”

“What’s today?” Flash asked. He shot off a text to Batman, asking if it was an error. The big Bat said it wasn’t, and that he would be there soon.

“The arrival of Amity Park. I learned about this in school; the alarm always gives me headaches.”

Flash turned to his grandson, getting his attention. “Bart,” he stressed. “What are you talking about?”

Impulse barely glanced over his shoulder. Now that Flash was facing him, he could see a strong glow coming from Earth. “The first villain, first anti-villain, and the first hero,” he said anxiously. “They all protect the town of the original metas. They’re all here.”

“Here? Now??”

“Yeah? They weren’t before, but they are now. The first hero said there was time stuff involved, which was what inspired me to start practicing time travel in the first place.”

“I’m not following.”

“It’s okay. We should probably go welcome them before they tear apart Illinois, though. The history I remember says that some of them freaked and destroyed a chunk of the Midwest during a fight with each other.”

“WHAT?”

[nelkcats]

The Ghost King Wants To Rest!

After years of discovering about his immortality and living through the death and reincarnation of his loved ones, Danny was tired. The world had changed: it had destroyed, rebuilt, reboot, he honestly lost the thread over the years.

Although he could admit that it was interesting to see the evolution, the arrival of heroes on his "original" dimension. And maybe he forced Technus to build him a radio that would alert him to space-related issues there...

He was thrilled when Martian Manhunter was heralded as a hero (Superman was a pretty cool alien yes, but too... human?), though that was basically all the news he had of current civilization (not that he needed further)

The years passed and at the end he decided to live out his retirement on earth out of nostalgia (and by that he means Clockwork got his ass out of the Realms for a break) in what was once Amity a long time ago, he built a nice cabin in the mountains and settled there.

His relationship with Clockwork had evolved over the years, and Danny understood that his mentor (sometimes father) was very concerned that immortality would negatively affect him.

Seeing how he locked himself in his castle for the first few years after Jazz death didn't help alleviate his fears. So Danny didn't complain when the ghost threw him to Earth on that dimension (besides, it had Aliens now! and he missed Amity...even if it was not Amity anymore)

But people won't stop pestering him during his retirement! "Save us" "Help us balance the world, chosen one" "Play with me, let cause chaos!" And more ridiculous phrases. Can the horned boy and wizards leave him alone!? He just wanted to rest!

He couldn't even ask his loved ones for help because their reincarnations didn't recognize him (or did, and made fun of his situation).

On the other hand, Justice League Dark and Klarion have spent years trying to bring the powerful entity that lives in the mountains to their side but nothing works! Why is it so intent on pretending to be an old man with an appearance of 20!?

[alt-vera]

— cigarettes out the window ⁀➷

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every night joel miller’s neighbour smokes cigarettes out her window, and every night he watches her do it.

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♡ | joel miller | 1.4k | ❛ cigarettes out the window - TV girl ❜

warnings: smoking. mentions of parental death. soft!joel miller. praise. fingering. piv sex. cockwarming. established age gap. mdni.

❝ but she never really quits, she’d just say she did ❞

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JOEL ONLY EVER SAW HER AT NIGHT.

　The moon would shine brightly over the QZ, reflecting off posted signs and apartment windows as the streets quietly hummed through the late hours, desperate to sleep. There she would be, a girl hanging out her window with small puffs of a smoke wafting out of her mouth, cigarette lit and resting between her fingers like a ruby ring.

　There was only an alleyway separating their buildings. Close enough to hear her sighs but never to touch her youthfully tired face. Joel found a simple pleasure in watching his neighbour smoke as her eyes watched the street beside them buzz with hidden life, rowdy kids sneaking home, out past curfew and desperate not to be caught by FEDRA.

　He didn’t know her name, and didn’t care to. There was something just so oddly serene about how carelessly she rested her elbows in her window sill, and how her smoke would blur the stars and paint the night sky with a temporary cloud. He wondered how she got the cigarettes, a seemingly endless supply.

　He didn’t find out until she became a customer of his.

　Apparently whoever she’d been trading with before had been caught, and so she’d found a new dealer through word of mouth. That dealer was none other than Joel Miller.

　You’d never come to him for anything other than cigarettes. Never pills, or booze, or any other amenities he had stockpiled. Only those thin sticks off nicotine.

　Somehow your relationship had changed from retailing to romance, and Joel often found himself tangled up in your sheets. He’d wake up in the middle of the night to air nipping at his bare skin, and he’d look to find you with your upper body out the window, smoke curling around you in a tobacco-smelling aura.

　He’d watch you stand there for an hour, sometimes longer, before you’d brush your teeth quietly and then crawl back into bed with him. Despite your best efforts, the stench of smoulder would remain, lingering on your tee as you snuggled into his warm body. He’d inhale it as you pressed into him, enjoying the smell of it. The smell of you.

　You always promised him you’d quit, but those words became more empty the more Joel heard them.

　One night in particular, he crawled out of bed to wrap his arms around you as you took your clockwork stance at the window. Your cigarette glowed between your fingers as you inhaled, puffing out the smog.

　“Why’re you up, darlin’?” He questioned softly, nose nestled deep into your hair.

　“Can’t sleep,” You mumbled in reply, goosebumps gracing your bare arms from the cool summer air. You ignored the shiver crawling through your body.

　“It’s cold,” He murmured back, his hands coming to rub your arms in an attempt to warm you up. “Why don’t you come back to bed?”

　“I will in a minute,” You replied softly, eyes finally turning to meet his. He could see the well of tears in your eyes, and his brow furrowed.

　“Darlin’, what’sa matter?” He questioned tenderly, his own eyes swelling with worry. Joel was a rough man, but in moments like these his old-self broke through. The self that cared deeply for the ones he loved. The self that lived proudly before the world went to hell.

　“Nothing,” You replied, flicking your cigarette into the street below before breaking away from him and stumbling back into bed. Joel followed quietly. The window remained open.

　The silence stayed between the two of you like a wall, but eventually you began tearing those tense bricks away.

　“Y’know, I came here with my mom,” Your words were soft and careful, as if you were telling him a secret that no one was supposed to know. Joel listened intently. “I was thirteen.”

　He hummed, showing he was listening. You continued.

　“For my birthday, she wanted to get me something special, but trading wasn’t very big yet, and the few people that did had nothing good to offer. So, she broke into that boarded up mall.”

　He could hear your voice tremble as the vulnerable words left your lips. His thumb absentmindedly stroked your arm, attempting to console you.

　“It’s been twelve years since then,” You let out a sorrowful laugh, “I’ve watched this city change for twelve years. New signs come up, old ones come down. All these signs she never got to see…”

　“All over a damn birthday gift.”

　You laughed again, and Joel hugged you too him. No tears left your eyes, and his shirt was dry when you pulled away. “She would’ve liked you,” You said as you smiled tenderly, “The cigarettes you get are always the brand she smoked. You would’ve been an angel in her eyes.”

　Joel chuckled, pressing a kiss to your temple. “I’m sure i would’a liked her too, especially if she was anything like you.”

　The sadness that creased your eyes changed into one of a faint happiness, and you pulled him into a deep kiss. Joel could taste the nicotine on your tongue, and it drew him in as a second-hand smoke. Cigarettes were your addiction, but you were his addiction.

　The kiss turned into something more, his fingers dancing around the hem of your raggedy tee until his hands slipped under them, cupping your chest as your nipples pebbled from his chilled fingers. You moaned his name, a desperate call for him.

　He moved one hand to dive into your panties, fingers gathering the slick you’d developing as you had kissed him. He used the arousal to guide himself into you, fingertips slipping against your gummy walls as he fucked you with his hand, thumb circling your clit. Your eyes closed in euphoria, your moans gracing his ears as you begged him to keep going, a tide of pleasure rolling over you as you reached your high.

　Your hips twitched from overstimulation as you moved to palm him through his ratty boxers, gentle hand pulling the waistband and slipping inside to stroke him.

　“Baby,” His groan reached your ears as if it were a melody, urging you to continue, “I wanna fuck you so bad.”

　“Do it, Joel,” You spurred him on, his hand coming to replace yours as he pumped himself, pulling his boxers down and climbing on top of you, slipping his body between your legs as he traced his tip through your folds.

　A plead left your lips, begging for the teasing to stop. Joel let out a light chuckle as he complied, entering you carefully, allowing you to stretch to him. Obscene sounds met his actions, and he began to move, fucking you to an imaginary beat in his mind.

　“Good girl,” He groaned, a finger tracing your plush lips as he thrust inside of you. “Taking me so well like this.”

　You moaned at the praise, and Joel smiled adoringly, continuing to fuck you until your wave washed over you again. His hips stuttered as he reached his own peak, thick cum painting your walls.

　He stayed inside you as you both fought to catch your breath, pants leaving both your mouths. You pressed a kiss to his stubbly cheek, finger tracing his jawline.

　“Can we stay like this?” You asked, voice low as if you were scared of his rejection. You felt him nod against your stomach, and you fought a smile as your fingers began to deftly play with his graying hair.

　Joel relished the domestic action, melting into your intimacy. He breathed in the smell of smoke that stuck to your skin like perfume.

　“Joel?” You asked after a moment.

　“Hm?” Joel replied, hum muffled through your shirt and skin.

　“I’ll quit tomorrow,” You murmured softly, and Joel laughed.

　“Alright,” He said, turning so that you could hear him clearly. He raised his head, and his eyes met yours, a glimmer of jocose hidden in his deep eyes. “You’ll quit tomorrow.”

　You both knew it wasn’t true. Joel would continue to scour the Earth for that one specific brand of cigarettes that you smoked, and you’d continue you lean with your elbows on the open windowsill, smoke clouding and painting a familiar aura around you.

[gaiathemexicanbeauty]

it only takes a taste | mike schmidt x reader

word count: 1.6k

warnings: none! this is just pure fluff and maybe kind of slowburnish lol

this was loosely based off of it only takes a taste from the waitress musical! :3

idk i just really like the idea of late nights with mike even if he's too tired to even think straight lmao

also don't ask what time period this takes place in, i was born in 2004 and know like 2 things about the 70s-90s or whenever the movie takes place bc its never explicitly mentioned

i also do not regularly bake or cook so do not be afraid to go to my comment section and tell me if something sounds off

i love this man ok, i have said it 1000 times already but i've been in love with him ever since i first saw him when i was like 12 or 13 and was even more so obsessed with rebornica's mike design for YEARS. 12 year old me would have an aneurism if she knew about the fnaf movie

you let out a long yawn, one hand reaching up cover your mouth so as not to potentially ruin the mood of any customers around; granted, there was only two and they were graveyard shifters from somewhere outside of town but customers are customers. you'd been working at sparky's for a couple of months now, figuring it was an easy way to make some cash and keep food on the table. of course, you hadn't accounted for the very long hours that passed where you half debated trying to sneak away since no was around from 2-4:00 am: your boss would kill you, though, and you wanted to stay employed.

soft oldies music plays in the background as you glance over at the clock ticking away on the wall. just as you move to grab a rag to clean the counters for the 5th time during your shift, you hear the bell above the entrance jingle and don't even have to look up to know who it is.

mike wasn't a regular at first, just someone who popped in at random and very quietly asked for a coffee. after a while of starting a new job, he started coming in at almost 11:00 pm everyday and always asking for the same thing: just a plain, black coffee. "seriously?" you had said with a smirk the first time he said his order to you, your eyes widening at the attitude you had just given a customer. fortunately, mike was quick to respond with a tired but good natured laugh, his hands folded in front of him. "i'm all ears if you have other recommendations." he mumbled with a smile tugging at the corner of his lips, giving you instant relief.

now, it was just clockwork. "hey." mike sighs with a soft sigh, rubbing a hand over his eyes as he takes a seat at a chair by the counter you were standing behind. "coffee machine is kind of acting up tonight, you're gonna have to give it a minute. want anything else while you wait?" you say as you approach the counter, giving him a quick smile. mike is about to decline your offer, his lips parting to say something before his eyes land on something on the farther end of the counter. "what about that? still good?" "you're just in time. i was going to take the rest of it home." you say with a smile, walking over to the cake stand holding an apple pie with only 3 slices left of it. you take the lid off to plate it, handing it over to mike with a hum before bringing him utensils. you don't even get the chance to bring up to him that the slices have been sitting there for a couple of hours, blinking in shock at the way he's quick to start eating.

you turn your back to start taking down the chalkboard advertising the special from the day before, giving mike his one moment of quiet you were sure he needed. you start to think about what your day will consist of once you're done with your shift, dreading having to clean your room before you can actually sleep. "did you make this?" "yeah. why, is it bad?" you say with a chuckle, turning to look at mike again; your eyes widen a bit at the way mike is looking at you, his own eyes looking at you like he can't believe what he just put it in his mouth. "no, no, it's..it's really good, like. really good." your cheeks redden a bit at the sudden compliment, pushing a piece of hair behind your ear as you occasionally glance at him enjoying the pie you'd made; you wouldn't say you were amazing at cooking but you definitely knew enough to make a meal that would do more than just feed you.

it also didn't help that you'd been harboring a crush on mike for the past month. that you were aware of, he didn't have a partner of any kind but that might have been more to do with the fact he didn't have time for one than anything else. you at first brushed it off as just not having contact with anyone your age that late at night, just enjoying his company when nights got lonely. but you couldn't deny the way you would style your hair a bit differently or try a new perfume in the hopes of getting a compliment from mike; to your absolute pleasure, he almost always pointed it out. now to hear this sudden praise for your cooking took you out of your element.

"thanks, really, but i make it all the time. i can make thousands like it and they'll all be the same." you say with a light chuckle, crossing your arms against your chest as you look over at the cake stand sheepishly. "then maybe you should consider getting a day job making these instead." mike says between bites, giving you a playful smile. you can't help but scoff despite the smile on your face, looking over at mike again. "well, if it's that easy, maybe YOU should quit your job and come and join me. keep me company." the two of you have a quiet laugh, your cheeks reddening at the indirect compliment you had paid him. once his plate is empty, you take it away from him just to have an excuse to do something with your hands (also to get away from the almost fond look that mike was giving you right now, definitely not on par for him). there's a tense silence between the two of you before mike speaks up, clearing his throat when he speaks. "uh, i tried making that at home. the pie, i mean. i don't remember what kind it was right now, but it definitely didn't end as well as that." he says with a nervous laugh, hands folded in front of him again as you hear the coffee machine start to pour out his drink.

"well, what exactly did you do wrong?" with surprisingly no hesitance, mike goes on to tell the story of how sure he was about this recipe he'd seen in a catalogue, going above and beyond to make sure this "stupid thing" (his words) came out right. little did he know leaving his creation unattended for even a second would result in smoke pouring out of the oven and having to throw out a charred-black pastry; "and then abby went and acted like we could just go and do it all over again and.." mike starts, hands waving around uncharacteristically as he finished off his story. he caught the way you were trying to hold back a laugh, fingers pressed to your lips that were etched into a small smile. "it's ok, you can laugh all you want. i never tried doing it again." you can't help the laugh that leaves you once he gives you his full permission, still trying to keep your voice down. "i-i'm sorry, really.." you giggle once you've calmed down, rubbing your hands over your face before you start to walk around the counter to where mike is sitting. "but that's not how making a pie works. you can't just leave it like that or give up on the process that easily."

mike makes a face that says 'i'm listening', shrugging his shoulders when you sit on the stool next to him. "making a pie is like.." you start with a sigh, hands propping up your chin in thought as you look up at the clock. "you just know when some things feel right. if something is too much or too little, whether you need to start again or not. lord knows i've had to redo entire pies because the crust wasn't flaky enough or the filling didn't taste like apples enough." you say, chuckling a bit as you remember all the times you'd slaved away for almost entire days trying to nail down the perfect home recipe. you take a minute to think again, sitting back a bit as you smooth down your apron tied around your waist. "and it also doesn't help if you make something just to make something. when you bake or just cook a plain old steak, you have to make it like you're crafting a story or making a song. all of my best meals were made with someone or something in mind."

your cheeks go red again when you realize the very unprompted ramble you went on, a nervous laugh leaving you as you look down at your lap. "sorry, you totally don't have to-" "no, no, i-" the two of you jump a bit at the way you both try to speak first, sheepish smiles tugging at your lips before you go quiet again. the bell above the door jingles and you don't have to look up to know the two of you are alone now. "i like hearing about that sort of stuff. i really only hear about it when i'm here with you and it's..nice. different." your heart soars and you can only hope that mike can't somehow feel or hear it, trying to give him a warm smile without saying something you'll regret. you get up from your seat with a when he checks his watch, knowing that's code for 'i need to go' even before he stands. you're almost sure he'll leave without saying anything which you are simultaneously grateful for and hoped he wouldn't do, already busying yourself with some other menial task. "hey."

you look up almost as soon as he speaks, seeing the smile tugging at his lips and not able to contain your own. "save those leftovers for me. i hope it still tastes like you were trying to make it for me when i get back." he says, a smug look in his eyes as your lips part a bit in shock. you try to call out to him before he jogs out to his car, taking off accordingly.

-> ta da its done! :D <-

this was honestly less romantic than i wanted it to be but i promise that my brain is racked with thoughts of him literally EVERY DAY so mayhaps i can write something else that's more up to par one of these days

but thank yall for reading! :D i haven't been able to pump out a oneshot like this for a while and it felt good to write something longer than a couple of paragraphs, i have missed this account sm 🐺���� love yall and i hope that you all are having a fantastic day!

[happyk44]

Jason graduates from the Wolf House at 3, 4 years old. He trudges to Camp Jupiter in sneakers and thin clothes. The Mist handwaves off the strangeness of a toddler hitchhiking across plains and streets. Nobody bats an eye when he clambours onto buses with his tiny backpack and sunken gaze. He's alone, battling monsters that leave scratches and bite marks, rationing away his supply of nectar and ambrosia. Some nights he sleeps tucked under grass and leaves and thinks about the bleeding hand he's wrapped up in a piece of shirt he burnt off. But he just grips his staunched wound tight and ignores those thoughts. What if he needs the medicine more later?

In perilous battle, he cries for help, but it never comes. A few times he sees an eagle fly overhead when the fight is done and he's crusted in blood, breathing as hard as his little lungs will allow. It never comes back.

He stops crying.

Muddy and scabbed, he reaches camp. They throw him to the showers then straight into training. His tiny hands grow thick with callouses before the week is over. It hurts, but he doesn't cry. There is no one else his age around. Much like the Wolf House, everyone is bigger, older, and uninterested in the toddler racing to keep up.

It's barely three months and he gets thrown into his first quest. It's barely three months and there's a second one. A third. A fourth. Like clockwork they come and a woman walks across his frustrated dreams to remind him of who he is.

A soldier, a leader, the son of Jupiter, the pride of Rome, she says. Nothing less than that will suffice.

He is five, six, seven, eight, and the callouses on his hands are bleeding. He knows to burn his own wounds so he can attend to his injured teammates, saving the last bit of magical medicine for them. He knows how to fight with both hands tied behind his back, with a blindfold on, with his all senses dulled. His life is quests, training, war games. He naps on a spare mat in the back of the training grounds in between practice. Sometimes he forgets he has a bed.

He is nine years old and he does not remember how to cry. He has more completed quests than anyone his senior. He sits in on meetings. He prepares for the future laid out before him. He doesn't get it when his Cohort members try to lure him away from the training grounds, speaking of fun and games. He doesn't get it when they tell him to be a kid. When they squeeze his cheeks and remind him that he is still young. Is he? There's a child in the mirror he doesn't recognize. But the child doesn't look young. Just sad, and tired.

He is ten years old and Dakota asks him why he's such an old man already. He doesn't know how to answer. A woman hovers over him in his dreams, whispering that he is grown now. An adult. Time to lead. Time to take charge. In the morning, he is chosen leader of the Cohort. It is the only birthday present he ever gets and remembers.

He is twelve and Reyna asks him if he's happy. He lies. These days he lies a lot. It's in the mimicry of his voice, his actions, his subdued expressions. He learned young how to walk around the truth. He learned young how to fit in. He doesn't know what happiness feels like. He doesn't know what anything feels like. Except pain. He'll never forget pain.

He is fifteen and he does not remember pain. He does not feel it when monsters latch onto bare skin and bury their teeth in deep. He doesn't feel it when he punched in the stomach. No, the sensation is warm now, burning sometimes. But the pain is gone. It doesn't linger, it doesn't hit. Even when the battle is won and adrenaline cools him down. It's an ache, but it's not pain. Pain is worse than this.

This is just his baseline.

The medics at camp tell him his nerves are damaged, his body quaking from overuse. They warn him about going up against Krios alone. They tell him to rest for a few days. For a couple of weeks. As they feed him nectar and bandage his bruised and fractured ribs, he says nothing. Only stares ahead. Empty and quiet.

Don't they know he can't stop? He is a soldier, a leader, the son of Jupiter, the pride of Rome.

Nothing less than that will ever suffice.

[animalluver8153]

Life Assurance Pt. 5

Everyone has a long night, figuratively and literally.

First &lt;;> Previous <> Next (Final)

<<<<>>>>

“How was I supposed to know they were all superheroes?” Danny’s voice echoed amongst the ticking and tocking of all the clocks floating in Clockwork’s lair.

“You didn’t think to check before agreeing to save their lives from certain death?”

“I wasn’t thinking anything except giving a grandpa some hope that the teenager in charge of his afterlife had his back.”

“Then you succeeded, didn’t you?” Clockwork had a few of his screens replaying the events of the past few weeks. Danny groaned as a replay of him spilling his guts to the Justice League played in the background.

“I know I’m supposed to wait for the right time for training, but I need help with this summoning business.”

“You know you don’t have to accept the summons. The urge will pass as the summoner gives up on the ritual. Even the most persistent of humans will tire.”

“It’s not that. His family must be worried about him but I can’t leave him here to let them know he’s ok. I need a way to get to and from the ghost zone that isn’t in my parent’s basement. Even if Frostbite will let me use it, the Infi-Map is way too powerful to carry around.” Danny felt weird just holding onto the scroll, it looked inert enough in his hands but he felt it was just waiting for him to wish himself to the dawn of time. “That kid could have taken it out of my hands before I knew it.”

“Precocious, isn’t he?” Clockwork side-eyed the screen with the youngest Wayne brandishing a sword nearly as big as he is.

“If that word means young but dangerous, then yes. I can’t risk the map and flying from Amity to Gotham is not ideal. I know some ghosts can tear open their own portals, Wulf and Cujo can do so naturally and still end up where they want to be. Even my parents had some success making smaller portals fire from the Fenton bazooka.”

Clockwork smiled, and Danny knew he was amused with what he was going to say next.

“What I really need, is time to make this right.”

“How fortunate for you, your mentor has some experience in the matter,” Clockwork raised his glowing light to gesture to his lair. Every clock gave one last tick and stopped. Danny could feel the threads of time stiffen. He hadn’t even realized they were moving, though it seemed obvious in hindsight.

“You have already found and altered the threads of time. Now it’s time to find the folds of space.”

 <<<<<>>>>>

Frostbite sat in the vault and looked over the data his brethren had compiled. Their unsuspecting guest had been a wealth of discoveries on the acute decay of ectoplasm. It had only been a few hours since his arrival and he was ready to be moved from the stasis tube and to a bed. Only a light sedative would be needed to keep him in a restive sleep. The Great One still had plenty of time to return.

That was the predicament, wasn’t it? It was no secret to the Ghost Zone that the boy had taken on a soul contract. One inherited from Pariah Dark himself. The young man contaminated with ectoplasm was one of the humans he was contracted to protect. The Great One had bemoaned the situation that led to the two collapsing at the edge of his people’s realm. Now he was seeking the counsel of his ancient mentor, hoping that he will return in time to see him home.

The old king had not pretended to care for his thralls, had not even beguiled those who struck a deal with him. He had cared for his power, and had used it to threaten ever-increasing numbers of the living and dead until they too signed their souls away for safety.

Danny was not Pariah, but Frostbite didn’t have the benefit of knowing where Pariah rose. If he had ever been a boy who complained over his responsibilities or made promises with hugs.

Frostbite realized he had been staring at his notes instead of reading them. He set them aside. Before he could decide where to turn his attention, he picked up a familiar scent. The sharp burning smell of reality being circumvented. Danny stood before him, the Infi-Map in hand.

“Frostbite!” the young king wrapped his arms around the arm that wasn’t made of ice before jumping back, “Sorry! I know you just saw me. But it’s been a while, for me.”

Frostbite must have made a face, the Great One was quick to answer it, “It was just a month. Clockwork taught me how to make my own portals. I didn’t want to leave until I got it right.”

“Ah, well then, Great One,” Frostbite picked up his notes again, “Would you like to hear the good news about Jason?”

“Yes! He’s ok? Did he wake up? Clockwork said it was only a couple of hours. What happened?”

Frostbite guided the young monarch back to the medical ward, one of the most powerful relics of the Infinite Realms left on the dais without so much as a backward glance.

<<<<<>>>>> 

Wayne Manor hadn’t seen a morning this bad in a long time. Light was poking through the slivers of the living room curtains and falling on the figures within. Dick, Barbra, and Duke had gotten there an hour after the ritual. Their exclusion had been a deliberate act on behalf of the more reckless members of the clan. The fighting and crying and accusations had stopped a few hours ago. There was nothing but silence now. No one had slept, but it was wrong to say they were all truly awake.

Tim thought the lack of sleep was getting to him. He was starting to see lightning in the corner of his eyes. When they didn’t go away, he shoved Dick in the shoulder. Understanding the universal language of younger brothers, Dick shoved him back and looked to where Tim was looking.

“Yeah, I’m seeing that too.”

That got the attention of the rest of the family. A split second later a crack of lightning heralded a radioactive green disk appearing in front of the fireplace. A slip of white poked out of it. Fortunately, Damian was very nearly asleep, so Alfred was easily able to hold him back by hugging him tighter. Instead of a shock of white hair, the white was the white of a small cloth attached to a stick.

After a beat, the crowned head of the ghost king emerged from the disk.

“Jason is ok, please do not attack me.”

<<<<>>>> 

Jason was awake. He realized he hadn’t been the second before. He had definitely been asleep, but he had jumped to being awake with no preamble between the two. It wasn’t morning, because there wasn’t any light coming from that one broken blind he’d been meaning to get fixed for the past two years.

He got up, but realized that he failed that. There was a big heavy fur blanket over him. On top of that blanket was Damian. He could just barely see the little brat’s scowl from the glow of the heart monitor next to the bed.

Oh.

A simple finger monitor was attached to his left hand. Other than that, nothing was holding him in place but his little brother. Jason considered knocking him off and getting out of there when he noticed the puff of white coming from his own breath. What kind of hospital was this cold?

“Give them a few more minutes.”

Green light shone from across the room, illuminating the forms of his other family members as he got closer. They were curled up beneath their own blankets, little puffs of their breath almost glowing in the dim light. The face beneath the crown pressed a finger to his lips nodding his head to the other side of Jason’s bed. Alfred had the seat of honor, right next to the bed and leaning his head against the wall. Jason realized he had never seen him like this, disheveled and exhausted.

Everything came back to him then.

“What did you do to me?” He said it quietly as he could, not that it mattered, his family looked dead to the world.

“I possessed you. The same way I possessed the Joker. Something inside you reacted badly to it.”

“Understatement.”

“It’s all we got right now. You responded well to a transfusion. I brought your family here as soon as I could. They were up all night worrying about you.”

Jason wanted to deny it on reflex. Wanted to say they didn’t really care about him. Something stopped him. He tried pinpointing why, but couldn’t. He couldn’t even manage to feel angry. Angry was something he very much should be given everything that was going on. But the anger didn’t come. In fact, he felt, good. Great even.

Maybe he wouldn’t kick Damian off the bed after all.

“I’ll be back with some food for everyone. We can talk with the doctors after.”

“Damian’s a vegan, brat probably won’t eat anything that casts a shadow.”

The king gave a very un-kingly snort, “We have that covered. The yetis are very hospitable.”

“Yetis?”

“Don’t worry about it.”

Surprisingly, Jason didn’t.

[eyesthecolorofarson]

Interacting with Entities

The Justice Leagues main meeting room wasn’t usually this crowded, with both the entire Flash, Bat, Super, and Arrow families in attendance. Though to be fair, Red Robin didn’t usually send out a message on mass that told them he had information that changed the fundamentals of life and death.

Tim was typing at the main computer, ignoring or not hearing the whispers of everyone around him as he opened what seemed to be a very disturbing image. It showed a little girl, no older than ten, with red hair and off-color green-white skin in what seemed to be a lab. She was leaning against an operating table, sobbing. On the operating table was a toddler, who couldn’t be older than three.

He’d been dissected. He was pinned open like a frog in a high school science class, and the only thing in his small body were his ribs. His other organs were in jars surrounding him, his heart above his head. His eyes had been removed as well, placed in separate jars on each side of his heart.

The room fell deathly silent as they took in the image. Tim turned around, tired and grim, and spoke. “Who you are looking at is Jazz and Danny Fenton from Ohio. Jazz is possible a different species, and Danny is a clone she created. The reason she knew how to do this and succeeded is because of her hyper intelligence and from watching her parents, who are scientists.”

Tim turned around again and clicked a button. “And as you can see, their very unethical ones.” The video began playing, projecting the girls deep, heart-wrenching sobs. You could hear how much she loved him, how many good memories she had with him. She choked, sniffling and whimpering in a soft, broken tone, “I–*hic* I….. I j-just didn’t wa-waaant *hic* to be alone any*hic*more….”

Behind her, something began to form.

It made the video distort, but it was clearly a person fading into existence. It looked like someone swirling something in reverse. The video cleared up and floating where the vortex had been was an old man, with icy blue skin and red eyes. He had long, white hair and wore a cloak that hid the rest of his body.

He placed a hand on her shoulder and spoke in a soft tone, “You are a child.” Jazzs sobs didn’t stop, but they slowed as he continued. “You are a scared, abused, neglected, horribly alone child. The only thing you wanted was to be loved, to have something to love. This was not your fault. This was a failure of the system, not you.”

Jazz had stopped crying, and for a moment they were silent, staring at the body in front of them. The man spoke again, but softer. “There is a way to bring him back, you know.” Jazzs head wiped around so fast many worried of whiplash. But the camera now has a clear view of her face, and her bright red eyes.

“How?” She said, gripping the man’s cloak, “no riddles, no cryptic messages, please Clockwork, please, just tell me how to bring him back.” He smiled softly and patted her head. “It will be a long journey, and difficult in ways unimaginable, and you must do it alone. But I believe you will be able to succeed.”

Clockwork began floating about the lab, picking out random things such as syringes filled with strange brightly-colored liquids and futuristic looking weapons as he spoke. “What is an Entity, Jasmine?”

Jazz watched him, confused, but answered. “It’s when the personification of a concept, like Lady Justice, or a natural unchangeable occurrence, like life and death or the four seasons, gains sentience and comes together to form a corporeal, human-like form.”

“It happens when these concepts or occurrences gain enough power,” she continued, “and then every part of them comes together to form a singular whole. Like how every religious belief formed Lady Death, or how everyone’s opinion on a season effects how they act and express themselves.”

“Very good.” Clockwork said, the objects he picked up floating around him in a circle when he let them go. “Deep in the Hindu Kush Mountains, in a place called Nada Parbat, there is an Entity trapped. Her name is ɭ̷͕̈́ค̴̡̞̮̱̩͓̝̅̈́͗͆̋̆̋̈́̉̿̓̕͠ᘔ̴̨̢̖͔͖͚͙̗̚ͅค̵͈͍̞͚̄̐̃̔̌̋͜ͅг̶̣̙̰̣͔̖̰̱̝͔͍̘͂͆̄̈́̆̍͑͒͛̃̚ͅย̶͇̥̜͈͚̼͉̈́̈̓̒͊͗̍͋̄̆̕͠ร̷̪̃̈́͒̒̿͠͝.” The Justice League was torn from their intense focus of the video to the sudden pain in their ears, the wave of nausea that washed over them, the dizziness and confusion. Whatever language that was it wasn’t meant for human ears.

In the video, Jazz didn’t seem effected, and even understood what he was saying. She muttered the word, over and over again, before she said, “Lazarus? I’ve never heard of that before. What’s she made out of?” Clockwork floated back towards her and continued to explain. “Her true name is Lady Life. She is the oldest, the truest, spread among and deeply connected to every part of this universe. From the smallest ant to the largest planet, she is Life in its purest form.”

“Is she older than you?” Jazz asked, tilting her head and grabbing every syringe she could reach, placing them on a different table than the one Danny was on and organizing them by size and color. Clockwork laughed. “Far, far older. She existed before Lady Death did, in a sort of ‘chicken and egg’ scenario.”

“I tell you this,” Clockwork started, handing Jazz several of the weapons before continuing, “because for the past few centuries, Lady Life’s powers have been severely abused by people who are not worthy of them. And those subjected to her power against their will are going about treating the side effects incredibly wrong.”

“What are the rules for interacting with an Entity?��� “Do not take, do not lie, do not steal.” Jazz replied, “Ask, explain, thank. And good will follow.” Clockwork smiled. “Very good. And what is the rule for when bringing an Entity into the body?” “Do not bathe, for it washes away.” Jazz again replied. “Do not inject, for it pierces skin. Consume, for eating is only done willingly and happily.”

“Now, a series of questions.” Clockwork said, “When bringing an Entity into the body, what happens when you attempt to lock it away?” “It will attempt to lock you away.” “And when you ties to fight it?” “It will try to fight you.” “And when you try to control it?” “It will attempt to control you.”

Jazz finished her sorting and turned to look at Clockwork. “The best way to bring an Entity into your body is to accept it, respect it, and love it, and it will give you the same in return.” They stared at each other silently for a couple minutes, not blinking or breathing.

“I have to bring Lady Life into Danny.” Jazz finally spoke. Clockwork nodded. “But how?” Jazz look to the operating table for a moment, before turning back to Clockwork. “He can’t eat anything….” Clockwork moved to the side, blocking her view of the table. “Remember, Jasmine; ask, explain, thank. Like everyone, Lady Life has many sides. While yes, she can be endlessly cruel, but also deeply loving and compassionate. It all depends on how you treat her.”

Jazz thought for a moment. “So, if I free Lady Life—because that’s what you want me to do, right?” At Clockworks nod she continued, “Right. So, if I free her, and I treat her really nicely and I ask nicely, she’ll bring Danny back?” Clockwork said yes, and Jazz fell silent again. “How do I do it?” She said, her red eyes alight with determination. Clockwork held out his hand, and when she took it—

Both them and Danny were gone

[kaunis-sielu]

Bad Cop

You live in a safe part of town. Being married to a cop Steve wasn’t about to put his family at risk if he could help it. He’s worked hard, you both had, but he’d made Captain in department record time and then you’d had Thomas.

Thomas’s favorite part of the day was when Daddy came home. Steve would come in, his uniform a little less crisp than it was when he left, his smile a little sadder and his eyes a little more exhausted. He’d scoop up Tommy, swing him over his head and pretend to eat his belly, much to a scream laughing Tommy’s delight. Then he’d look at you with those tired, eyes and curl an arm around your shoulders to pull you in for a kiss.

You tried not to worry about him while he was at work. You tried not to talk about his work unless he brought it up. But it wasn’t easy.

Steve is like clockwork, so when you hear someone at the door you’re confused. He shouldn’t be home, not yet. You pull up the camera and to your horror see a man in a black ball cap trying to see into your home.

You’re calling Steve before you even process what you’re doing.

“Hey Honey,”

“Someone is trying to break in.” You tell him sprinting up the stairs and to where Thomas is sleeping.

“What.”

“Someone is trying to break in!”

“Buck, my place. Now.” Steve says, “where are you Honey?”

“Thomas’ room. He’s still napping.” You whisper you can hear him sprinting.

“If you hear anything breaking get him and get in the closet okay? We’re already on our way. We don’t want the sirens on because we don’t want him to know where we are.”

“Okay.”

“Two minutes Honey.” You’ve never loved living in a small town more. Then you hear glass shatter.

“Oh no. Glass.”

“Get Thomas, and get in the closet. Do not come out until I come get you okay?”

“Okay.” You whisper, you know he can hear the fear in your voice as you make your way to the little bed that Tommy sleeps in now and scoop him up. Whoever is in your home must not realize you’re there, he’s not being quiet by any means. You hope that Thomas will go back to sleep but when you look over at him those bright blue eyes are looking right at you.

“Baby, we’ve gotta be super quiet okay? We’re playing hide and seek and we don’t want to get found okay?”

“Daddy?” He asks sleepily and you shush him gently.

“Soon. But we have to be so quiet.” How aren’t Steve and Bucky here yet? Your heart is in your throat as you listen to the feet come upstairs. “Steve. Upstairs.” You whisper into the phone holding Thomas tightly. Luckily your two year old seems to understand something isn’t okay.

“I can see the house Honey. I’m going to hang up because we’re coming in hot. I love you. Stay there.”

Nothing in your life has sounded worse that the disconnect tone.

You hear Thomas’ door open and feet come into the room but quickly leave. The only real valuable item in the room is the baby monitor. Then you hear it.

“Don’t you fucking move. Put your hands up! Put your fucking hands up!” Steve yells and Thomas looks at the door and squeals,

“Daddy!”

“You picked the wrong ass house man.” You hear Bucky say just before the closet door is pulled open and your husband yanks you to him.

“Oh thank god.” He breathes into your neck before kissing Thomas on top of his head. Then he presses a searing kiss to your lips.

“They okay Cap?” A third voice calls as two more officers come upstairs. Bucky hands off the man in the hat to the younger officer, Parker you think, and you give Sam a little smile.

“We’re okay.”

“I’m taking the rest of the day.” Steve tells Bucky who nods then heads out of the house.

“You don’t have to.”

“Honey, he broke a window in the house, I’m not leaving you here with a broken window.” Steve says kissing you again, “Also, I need this Honey. Never been so scared in my life.”

“Daddy,” Thomas reaches for Steve.

“Hey buddy, Dad’s gonna change first.” He doesn’t love holding Thomas for too long with all of his gear on, which you appreciate. “Come with me?” He asks you and you weave your fingers through his. Steve presses a kiss to the back of your hand and leads you out of the room. You go to your bedroom where his gun safe is, this one only opens with his fingerprints because you didn’t want little eyes watching and figuring out a code. Even if he couldn’t reach now that wouldn’t be the case forever. Steve puts his mace, taser and gun all in the case then changes quickly. You and Thomas sit on the bed, well you sit and Thomas practices his body slams on your pillows.

“Are you okay?” Steve asks looking over at you.

“Yea, I just can’t believe it happened.” You tell him. “I’m glad the station is so close.”

“Me too.”

“Did you recognize him?”

“No, why?”

“I’m just wondering if it was a targeted attack or if it was really just bad luck on his part.”

“Until we hear otherwise it was just bad luck okay?” He says making his way to the side of the bed. “You did everything right.” He tells you cupping your face in his hands, you didn’t realize how much you’d needed to hear that. Steve leans in to kiss you when Thomas realizes that his dad is fair game to play with now.

“Put your fucking hands up Daddy!” You both freeze a breath away from one another.

“Did he?” Steve murmurs,

“Yup.” You affirm and he groans softly. You press a quick kiss to his lips. “This one is all you Rogers.” You tease as Thomas yells, “Put your fucking hands up Daddy! You’re the bad guy!” Steve groans softly dropping his forehead to your shoulder and you have to bite back a laugh.

This should be interesting.

Tag list:

@foxyjwls007 @andahugaroundtheneck @also-fangirlinsweden @pagina16ps @annielr @princesssterek @valsworldofcreativity @dumblani @inkedaztec @loving-life-my-way @animegirlgeeky @shinycupcakebaker @eralen @sophham @gh0stgurl @patzammit @wonderlandfandomkingdom @abschaffer2 @capsiclesdoll @killcomet @sass-masterkittenmama

[jasonscaramel]

i guess only the stars would know the truth - chapter one - jason todd x reader

series summary: there's something going on in gotham. you transfer into gotham university's journalism program. simultaneously, people are going missing in gotham at record rates. it's only a matter of time before your curiosity gets the best of you.

words: 1.8k

cross-posted on ao3 | series masterlist

Gotham is a welcome change in scenery from your small town in the south.

Sure, it rains nearly every day, and there’s the fact that there are supervillains that terrorize the city like clockwork. But having never lived in a big city before, it has a certain charm you don’t see yourself getting over any time soon. Everything is open late, the streets never seem to quiet down… it’s been eye-opening, to say the least.

You moved here more for the convenience, so it’s only a plus that you enjoy city life too. Gotham University is home to one of the best journalism professors—and in turn, programs—in the country. With affordable tuition, and the cost of living in Gotham being nearly pennies on the dollar, it was a no-brainer to transfer here.

So here you are. Making your way through the winding, labyrinthian halls, you wonder if you’re ever going to get used to how large this place is compared to your old… everything. A small community college on the outskirts of an even smaller town has nothing on the pure expansiveness of Gotham University, and in turn, Gotham City.

The first class to start off the semester is Marketing. You have a hard time putting together how it’ll help you in journalism, but maybe it will be more helpful than you think. By the time you arrive, the class is already sparsely populated, so you find a spot with the most amount of empty chairs and begin to unpack your things.

As you’re logging into your computer, a bag slams on the table beside you, making you jump.

“Sorry! I forgot how heavy those books are.” You look up to see a man, probably about your age, smiling down at you in an apology. “I’m Tim. Mind if I sit here?”

You shake your head with a smile, “Of course not. It’s about time to make friends.” You give him your name as he sits down, and he gives you a smile of his own.

“Oh, are you new here?”

“Yeah, I just transferred. The journalism program is incredible.”

Tim smiles in agreement, but it seems a bit facetious. “Sorry, it’s just—I’m not used to people moving to Gotham. You are… aware of everything, right?”

You snort. “The pros outweighed the cons. Can’t exactly do much journalism work when all there is to report on is cattle.” You flash him a smile that he returns easily.

“You know, that would make sense—”

Tim was cut off by the professor beginning his lecture. The first day is always a bunch of syllabus talk, so you only half pay attention while looking through the Gotham Gazette website. You bookmark a couple of the articles you find, especially the ones that say MISSING PERSONS. Why is there so many?

The professor is kind enough to release the class 15 minutes early. It feels like the universe blessing you because you have no idea where to go for your next class, and you’re sure with the small amount of time in between the classes, you’d get lost and be late. Your old college was barely half the size of this place—you wonder if you’ll ever be confident in navigating it.

“You have any other classes after this?” Tim asks as you both pack up your belongings, and you nod. “I don’t, so if you need help navigating…?”

“Oh, Tim, you’re my hero. Thank you.” You throw your bag over your shoulder and follow him out of the classroom, having to walk a bit quicker to keep up with his strides. “I was honestly worried even with the extra time that I’d be late.”

He gives you that same kind, tired smile. “Don’t worry about it. Where are we headed?”

After you tell him the room number, Tim leads you up a few flights of stairs before leading you to a classroom door. You go to thank him, but you’re cut off by someone yelling his name. It’s a man, Tim’s age, running up to him and encircling him in a hug.

“Hi, babe. New friend?” You smile back at the man, finding it adorable how Tim’s hands immediately cover the other man’s. Tim introduces you and tells you that this is his boyfriend, Bernard.

“It’s their first day, they transferred here.”

“Oh, that’s awesome! We’re happy to have you.” Bernard finally unwraps himself from around Tim to stand at his full height. “If you ever need anything, just let us know.”

“Thank you. I appreciate it. See you Wednesday, Tim!”

“See you then!”

Your next class was more of the same, though you could already tell you wouldn’t have the same ease of social interaction here. Everyone seems to already know everyone else, groups of women in twos and threes with the occasional bro sprinkled in here and there. It’s a surprisingly small class, and thankfully your lack of bravery is also met with no one sitting beside you, so you don’t have to try and make conversation.

It doesn’t help that you can tell that you’re a few years older than everyone else in this classroom. Normally, it doesn’t bother you, but you’re not so sure this group will be as easy to crack as Tim was.

By the time both of your classes are over, you’re exhausted. It’s only 6 p.m., but with the constant rain and gloomy skies, combined with the hours of lecture you just sat through, you could probably go to bed and sleep through the night.

Before sleep, though, you need food. And instead of trekking through the pouring rain, you opt for the dining hall. You’re not expecting anything gourmet, but you do have some free dining dollars to spend, so it all evens out. As you make your way to the dining hall you keep your eyes out for Tim and Bernard, but you don’t see them anywhere. Just another endless sea of faces you don’t recognize.

It’s fine, really. You’ve got headphones and YouTube, so you’ll just have to be an iPad kid for today. Totally fine, and really not anything you aren’t used to. You set up shop in the corner, nibbling on an over-priced, over-greased piece of pizza you had to wait nearly thirty minutes on while you watch another reaction to another Cut video.

The walk home to your apartment isn’t the romanticized walk through the city that you’re used to seeing in the movies. It’s wet, despite the umbrella and the waterproof boots, and it’s really dark for the time of day. Regardless, it gives you time to think. First about taking the subway next time, and then about Tim and Bernard. You wonder if they were just being nice, pitying the new kid on their first day—or if you could actually be their friend. You hope for the latter. Making friends had never been an easy feat for you, and while you didn’t know much about either of them, you had a good feeling.

Which was immediately eclipsed by a very, very bad feeling as you watched a shadowed figure run across the rooftops of the buildings next to you.

Sure, you were fully aware that the shadowed figure you see is probably running toward the danger instead of going to cause it, but the threat of danger at all gives you pause. You knew what you were getting into coming here. The Joker, TwoFace… Gotham is nothing like where you’re from, and despite knowing that, it doesn’t make the reality any easier to digest.

Especially when you see what you’re pretty sure is Batman and Robin following not too far behind the first shadowed figure. Headed in the direction of your apartment.

Cool. Well, you had to have your vigilante v-card punched at some point, right? Might as well be your first night here.

You pick up your pace a bit since your building is within sight. It sure doesn’t sound like the fight is anywhere near your apartment, so you feel a bit safer as you scan your key and enter the building. The hallways are more reminiscent of a doctor’s office than an apartment building—sterile in places that should be homey, clinical in only a way someone so detached from living this way could create. You wonder if it's Bruce Wayne’s fault or Lex Luthor’s.

It’s not like your actual apartment is much better. There are the beginnings of a warm, inviting space here, but without the proper time and funds, it’s more sparse than anything else. The living room consists of a TV on an old side table and a couch sitting across from it, but you’re more than happy to plop onto the lumpy thing and click on the TV.

The gorgeous news anchor speaks, her voice melodic despite the situation at hand. “This is the fourth disappearance in Gotham in the past two weeks.” You sit up straighter at that, turning the volume up a few notches. The screen changes from the news anchor’s face to a graphic of the four missing people.

MISSING:

CRYSTAL JORDAN - 25

JAMES HEATH - 64

HOPE LEIGH - 32

HARLAN MAXTON - 43

IF YOU HAVE ANY INFORMATION PLEASE CONTACT GCPD.

Huh. Four people have gone missing, and they don’t seem to have anything in common. You skim each missing poster: grad student, grandfather, stay-at-home mom, businessman. You’re no criminal justice major, but that’s not typical… is it? It’s not like that many people went missing back home, but you’re sure this is odd.

“We have been told to urge the public to be cautious. Each of the missing persons was taken from a different area of Gotham, so there isn’t one place to look out for. If you see anything suspicious—”

You turn off the TV, but your mind just won’t follow suit. Four people in two weeks. That must be high, even for Gotham’s standards. You pull your laptop from your bag, determined to find more information. Google doesn’t give you much other than the locations these people were taken from, and statements from their families, but you save them into a folder on your desktop regardless.

You keep scrolling, desperate to find something. A way to keep yourself safe, or a way to dig deeper into this, you weren’t sure. You land on a photo of Crystal, gazing perfectly into the lens of the camera—only a little older than you, wearing a Gotham University hoodie. You can’t help but see yourself in her; you can’t help but see everyone you saw today in her.

As you slam your laptop closed, you pray to whatever god is out there that those four people come home safe. That it’s some stupid Joker stunt to catch Batman’s attention, and they’ll be returned to their families.

Deep down, though, as you settle into your bed, nesting into your covers, you feel a sickening feeling in your bones that only feels like dread.

[supershot73199]

Ok so I've seen a lot of dcxdp crossovers where Danny goes feral on someone (mostly superman) who mistreated a clone. But you know another media that has clones who could use a feral Danny fighting for their rights? Star wars that's who.

Ok so the idea I had is that Danny ends up going into a portal in the ghost zone. Maybe after a reveal gone bad or even just cause clockwork said so. But he comes out in the star wars universe sometime during the clone wars near some random jedi. I personally like the idea of it being the arc where they are trying to get supplies through a separatist blockade over ryloth.

So Danny is on this weird new planet when he sees some aliens and decides to follow them while invisible. He sees how they are hungry hurt and tired and sees this different alien and these dudes in white armor protecting these people including what's obviously kids. Now while I think the obsession thing can be interesting if done well.... I don't think it fits this au at least not a protection obsession (plus I love the idea that Danny chose to sacrifice everything he did as a conscious decision and I feel like a protective obsession takes some of the gravity out of that choice.)

So Danny is following them maybe Master Ima-Gun-Di senses him but can't tell where he is and assumes he is a force sensitive twilek. So the time comes where he and his men make their last stand and Danny sees them in real danger and steps in because these alien dudes were clearly protecting people from these creepy droids. Master Gun-Di is clearly surprised by this teen with weird non force based powers (maybe since the force is basically life itself ecto energy is the flip side of the force not dark but part of the universes balance.) Anyway Danny saves these dudes only for them to realize he doesn't speak the language and sends him to the jedi temple.

I like the idea of him spending time with obi-wan (he does not join the Jedi because he doesn't have the force.) I just think they would like snarking at people together. Anyway time passes he gets close to Obi-Wan Anakin and Ahsoka as well as all of the clones. Now this is important Danny did not know they were clones he assumed they were volunteers from a humanoid race that did not have much in the way of physical diversity and hey how's he to know how alien biology works.

So he's with the group and one of the clones mentions that they are disposable or something. Danny give a pep talk about how all the people they have saved are alive and safe because of him and the others volunteering thinking that he just was having a moment from trauma. No the clone meant it literally and explains that they were a clone army bred solely for war. Danny is livid that this is basically an army of slave and demands to know who signed of on this. He gets told it's Palpatine who Danny already does not like (he gets serious fruit loop vibes) so Danny decides he's gonna get these babies rights. (He learned they were aged at an accelerated pace)

Que Danny haunting the senate he harassed everyone who mistreated the clones. Fox and Padmé love this feral bastard. Eventually when it was just the two of them Palpatine who had not realized that Danny was live streaming his latest prank goes full sith lord trying to kill or control Danny who just bodies this wrinkly old man the moment he starts trying to shoot lightning.

Danny saves the Galaxy by being a feral rat boy who exposes the secret shadow ruler who leads both sides of the war. Danny traps Palpatine who gets a official trial. The clones get rights and maybe they wear Dannys logo somewhere on their armor as thanks. And Danny gets to explore the Galaxy and learn about all these wonderful new cultures. (Until he learns that there are slaves in the galaxy which causes the return of the feral boy)

[jessilynallendilla]

So I just read Danny Phantom: A Glitch in Time and...it was ok

Had this come out when I was a kid and just watched Ultimate Enemy I would have gone absolutely feral over it

this show came out in 2004 so not quite sure how to feel about the updated technology IMO it would have been cool to have a time capsule of the show than the common floating timeline you see in comics

unlike with DC graphic novels you can tell the person that wrote this is actually a fan of the show and not a rando corporate pick the plot is plausible and the characters stay in character

A loyal tribute that brings in new lore and character growth

it also retcons the hated movie Phantom Planet

And it leaves enough to be curious for the sequel

People either seem to love it saying it's a good continuation the more serious take they wanted or hate it saying they're tired of villains being complex and redeemable and not pure evil anymore and the plot seems too much like tumblr fanfiction

I made notes as a read it so spoilers under the cut

Dash Kwan Paulina and Star are ghost hunters 

Tucker has instagram/twitter “Spectregram” fans 

The Fentons supply the town’s ghost hunting tech unasked 

Tucker’s wiki “click-a-pedia" has him listed as married to Ember 

Danny and Jazz just accept their father is such a bungler he can’t even kill a guy by abandoning him in space 

Dan was strong enough to dent the only thing that can contain him and just it being knocked off a shelf was enough for him to break out (why Clockwork the Master of Time never foresaw this happening moved it from a table to a more secure location ¯\_(ツ)_/¯  ) 

So uh... Dan just absorbed “ate” Clockwork  

Ecto energy can reach atomic bomb levels so dimension ending threat there 

Since the Disasteroid his powers have been fading their theories match their personalities Tucker-science Sam-government Jazz-trauma  

“Do you have any childhood trauma you wanna talk about?” (like Jazz as if you weren’t there) 

Vlad found a primordial source of ecto energy and just kept that information to himself for a rainy day 

Jazz has a magical girl transformation for her ghost fighting suit 

Vlad is just “ignore those clones” (there in clothes so did Vlad just buy multiple copies of Danny’s favorite outfit how did he know his size) 

Vlad is such an old man who doesn’t know how to use modern computers 

“not a place of honor” ah the nuclear waste warning (we don’t really get much more exploration of this or the seven ancients) 

Sam is a horse girl 

Valerie still holding that grudge huh 

In Pariah’s Keep Danny is suffers from bad memories and holds Sam’s hand to comfort himself 

The Keep is Fright Knight’s domain  

Danny just forgets humans are the ghosts in the Ghost Zone (in line with how often he forgets what powers he has) 

Fright Knight calls Pariah his master 

Vlad is such a loser he keeps getting his shit kicked 

Maddie “That’s not my Danny.” 

The Ghost Zone and human world were split in half an unnatural divide 

Danny is still a C student (io don't think he's going to be an astronaut)

Ghosts are manifestations of human emotions not separate entities (take that Fartman) 

Eventually they start to lose their human identity it’s why some are less human 

Vlad has his own “Where’s the rest of it?” meme 

They figured out all ghosts run on some emotional drive or purpose  

Danny realizes his purpose is protection but now there’s no longer the monster of the week threat or his parents he never asked himself what he wanted 

Now instead of constant fighting he’ll help the ghost achieve their desires they just want to keep doing in death what they did in life and heal the rift 

Fight for control Clockwork 

Vlad finally grew as a person realizing it was his action and drive for power that drew everyone away and has making amends as his new purpose 

Dan just doesn’t want to be alone (makes sense the “no more painful human emotions” +Vlad’s anger and abandonment issues so he’s all the emotions and pain) 

Dan is destabilizing flashing back to his pre Dark child form because he’s a being outside his destroyed timeline  

Danny is the GOAT 

Clockwork needs to fix what he can of the time streams and Danny has two choices Post Disasteroid+no powers or Pre Disasteroid+powers  

Danny gives up being accepted so he can fix the realms “I’m Danny Phantom, proctor of humans and ghosts!” 

They are back to being invisible losers and Sam is just happy goths aren’t popular anymore 

The city doesn’t know how they avoided the Disasteroid but the Mayor declares ghosts are responsible for everything the city will now have a branch of ghost hunters and Danny Phantom is again public enemy #1 

Clockwork transfers Dan from Vlad into one of the empty clones he’s Vlad’s responsibility now he’ll be too busy to help again 

Clockwork’s powers are finite (so he isn’t omnipotent and all powerful) but he still feels something wrong in the stitches he feels weaker now 

And Valerie has a Time Medallion and is pissed (but there was a Valerie in the crowd at the Mayor’s speech so the two Valeries might meet up in the sequel)  

Jazz is ecstatic she was right about ghosts being emotions based  

[unholy-screeching9]

Hi!! First, I want to say that I love your writing style. So much detail! I also LOVE your art!!! Absolutely amazing.

I have a request! I’d like to see King Dice x reader, their first meeting. Game and show, or whichever you prefer! I’m not picky! I’d love to see how the two first met and how or when they fell for each other 🥰

You have free creative liberty with this!!

Feel free to message me if you need any ideas!

Thank you so much, sweetheart! Your kindness means the world to me. A lot of time and effort is put into my work, so I'm very glad it brings you joy. So sorry for the long wait! As always, if these aren't up to your tastes, let me know. I'll revamp them for you.

SUGGESTIVE CONTENT WARNING! 18+ ONLY, MINORS DNI.

💋

King Dice x Reader - "First Meeting"

King Dice x Reader - "First Meeting" (GAME)

King Dice loves to work in the casino. He has to, otherwise, his life would be absolutely miserable. His deal with the Devil really left him with no other choice.

There’s nothing more satisfying to him than watching those who are stupid enough to walk inside the building lose everything they had worked for. He relishes in the tears of the foolish. 

He also basks in the attention he gets from the ladies, the gentlemen and everyone in between. No matter who has fallen in love with Dice’s looks, the man accepts it wholeheartedly. Enjoys it, even. Multiple times, he’s found himself sitting in the head chair of the Grand Hazard table, with one person on each arm, two behind him with their hands on his shoulders, and even the occasional one sitting in his lap.

There is rarely ever a dull moment in the Devil’s casino. There’s always something to keep Dice entertained, whether it’s a tussle between the drunkards, a particularly exciting derby, or even some new drink concoctions the Tipsy Troop came up with. There’s always something.

Except… those things start to bore Dice. 

Sure, they’re enough to grab the manager’s attention, but the time span that these things keep his attention has slowly been dwindling. 

As invigorating as the job is, the routine has started to become too predictable. Get up. Go to work. Fawn over the attention. Sign soul contracts. Go home. It’s like clockwork. Every single day. 

It’s not to say that Dice is getting tired of his job. Oh, no. Not even close. The man just wishes that things could be a little more exciting sometimes. The shifts are long and tiring, it’d be nice to see at least a little change, to make the day pass by faster. 

Eventually, though, Dice gets his wish. 

The day you started showing up. 

Oh, hell, you are captivating. Your confidence as you strut through the double doors, catching every eye as you mosey your way down to the bar. The clacking of your shoes against the marble floor. The way you shoot a warning glare at anyone who tries to make a move on you. Good heavens, you’re a feisty one. 

Dice likes that. A lot. 

His legs sneakily carry him over to the edge of the bar, where he eavesdrops on your conversation with Ginette as she takes your order. 

You order a glass of the Old Fashioned, on the rocks. A strong, yet simple drink that hits all the right notes. 

What an excellent choice. Dice didn’t take you for someone who liked the liquors. He was expecting a classic red wine, or even a martini. 

How… unpredictable you are. Just what Dice needed, to bring back the spunk and glitz the casino had lost. 

You take your drink, and you brush past the manager, not even noticing him as you make your way past the slot machines. Past the derby area. It seems you have your heart set on something that requires more than just luck. 

You take your seat at the Poker table, sipping at your cocktail with the dealer casually sliding you a hand of cards. 

You’re after what skill can bring. You’re one of the intelligent ones. 

You certainly know the way right to King Dice’s heart. And now, he’s just GOTTA  have you.  

He watches you. Intently. From a distance, at first. He doesn’t want to scare you away from intimidation, but in all honesty, the looks you cast his way tell him that scaring you should be the least of his worries. 

Those looks also let him know that you know he has his eyes on you. You know you’ve fallen into his spotlight. But unlike the others, you aren’t pulled towards him like a moth to a flame. No… you have other things on your mind. 

Like the poker game in front of you. You’re so concentrated and determined; you know damn well what you’re doing. Dice can see it in your eyes, from his position at the bar. 

You’ve got a good poker face, but those beautiful eyes of yours are very telling. You think you’re about to win big. And goodness, when you glance up from your hand and cast him a suspicious look from your seat? 

He’s gotta get your name. He needs to know just who you are. To let you slip between his fingers would be the biggest mistake of his life.  

While you’re focused on your cards, Dice slowly makes his way over to your table, momentarily looking over the other players. ‘Watching for cheating,’ so to speak. Then, he steps behind you, smirking delightedly as he gets a peek at your hand. 

Looks like you’ve got yourself a straight. Not a terrible hand, but there certainly are better hands out there. But it doesn’t look like you’re making any moves for replacement cards. And, your bet seems to be rather high. 

Dice wonders if you’ve got little faith in your fellow players, or if you’ve just never played the game before. Maybe if he offers a bit of advice, he’ll be able to make you melt, just as he had with all the others who played hard to get. 

“You sure you wanna keep these cards, dear?” The die whispers sweetly, fondly. “It looks like you’ve got a rather low hand, with a high bet.” 

To Dice’s surprise, you let out a soft chuckle, leaning over and whispering right back, “thank you for your input, sir. But I’m quite alright. It seems that you may need to look into buying some glasses, though…” 

Ohhh, ouch. What a blow to Dice’s ego. He can’t believe you had the gall to speak to him in such a manner, all for trying to give you a little tip. While he’d usually go after those who speak like that, he just loves your attitude. It drives him nuts. 

He’s gotta see where this goes. What exactly drove you to refuse his advice? What kind of tricks do you have up your sleeve? 

The dealer calls for the players’ hands. You confidently set your cards down, the other players groaning softly in defeat, as the winnings are pushed towards you. Confused, Dice takes another glance at your cards, and his stomach does a somersault at the sight. 

A straight flush. All spades.

How could he have missed that?! 

Dice looks over at you, and is met with your confident eyes staring right back at him. Aw, hell, you’ve got him hooked. 

“Spades and clubs do look rather similar, don’t they?” You smirk, amusedly patting his shoulder. “I don’t blame you. It took me a little while to get used to the symbols when I first started out.” 

The manager is at a loss for words. He knows damn well the difference between a club and a spade, he’s worked these casino floors for over half his life. But how could you be so condescending, and yet… so oddly kind at the same time? And how in hell are you so good with your wit? 

He needs to introduce himself, before he loses his composure. 

“That was a very swell game indeed, my eyes must have missed the symbols… I don’t believe I’ve introduced myself yet. I’m—”

“Oh there’s no need for that, sir. I know exactly who you are.” You smile, calmly. Coolheaded. “The legendary King Dice of the Devil’s Casino. Anyone in the Isles who doesn’t know who you are would be a fool.” 

With his heart skipping several beats, the King quickly forms a smooth reply. 

“Well, since you seem to know so much about me, what about telling me about yourself? How about putting a personality to that pretty face of yours, doll?” 

You smirk, shaking your head and finishing off your liquor. Standing, you grab your winnings and hand him your empty glass, straightening up Dice’s bow tie for him. 

“Now, why would I talk about myself with a stranger, Dice? You of all people know the dangers of slipping out too much information.” 

“Aw, you’re hurting my heart, sugar. Not even your name? Something so simple?” 

“Hm… Alright, King of Hearts. The name’s (y/n). Don’t use it too much now, or you might just grow tired of me.” 

And with that, you’re gone, leaving Dice speechless, longing for more. Just how he had left so many others before. 

Good god. Now he understands what he’s put them through. It hurts. It hurts so damn good. There’s no way he could ever be tired of you, especially with a name like that. He needs to see you again. As much as possible.

He can’t wait for your return. And thankfully, he doesn’t need to wait for long. 

You come back again, the next day. And the day after that. And soon enough, you’ve become a regular, slipping into the mundane routine Dice had gotten so bored of. 

Except… you take away the normalcy. Every day you come by, the routine is just slightly different. 

Sure, you walk in, ignore the peepers, grab your usual cocktail and make your way to the poker table. One game. You win, every time. And then, you leave. It’s like clockwork. 

Except… the conversations you have with Dice. Those are slightly different. Every time. 

He tries to learn more about you. You shut him down, with a slight tease. You laugh as he fails to form a coherent reply. You leave, with Dice watching you. But every time you talk, you humor him just a little more. Driving him closer to what he wants.  

The more you come by, the more crazy he gets about you. He switches his tasks around on the schedules, making sure he is always available at the poker table and the bar. Just so he has an excuse to see more of you. To learn more about you.

Dammit, all you’ve given him is your name. That, along with the small details he’s picked up just from watching you, is not very much to work with. He needs more. 

He needs to take you out of this suffocating atmosphere. To bring you somewhere nice and quiet, where you can get to know each other outside of your casino affiliations. 

A date. He needs to take you on a date. 

He tries to be straight forward, at first. The next time you come by, during your usual conversation, he asks you to indulge in his fantasies, just for one night. 

“One date, darlin’. A night away from this casino’s chaos and craziness. Let me find out more about what makes those gears in your head turn.” 

“What a direct approach, King. But I’m sorry, I’m afraid you’re going to have to do better than that. There’s just not a reason for me to accept your offer.” 

Your voice is smooth, confident, with a hint of teasing. But there is something that Dice catches—something you had hoped he wouldn’t. Longing. 

The man is so. Damn. Close. He just needs to figure out a way to tip you over the edge.  

You take his hand, guiding it towards your empty glass so he can take it back to the bar for cleaning. 

Even with the gloves Dice is wearing, he can feel just how soft your skin is. It’s warm. Comforting. Addicting. Good gracious, you’re driving him insane. 

He watches you leave with a spring in your step, his eyes trailing down to the casino’s glossy marble flooring. After some deep thought, the man gets an idea. And for him, it’s brilliant. 

If he’s going to grab your attention for good, he needs to catch you off guard. Like a game of cat and mouse. 

You’ve always been great on your feet—you haven’t missed a step once in the time you’ve come to the casino. Dice wonders… What if you weren’t so good one night? What if something were to cause a simple slip, and who would catch you if something like that were to happen? 

Well, there’s an easy answer to each of those questions. 

When Dice orders for Wheezy and Chips to grease certain spots on the floor during cleanup, well, the two underlings know better than to question their boss. Still, it is rather peculiar how Dice only wants part of the floor to be greased. 

But there’s a method to the King’s madness. A method that only he can really understand. And you know what? That’s alright. 

The next day, before his shift, Dice sands the bottoms of his shoes. It breaks his heart a little, these shoes are expensive, but it has to be done. How is he supposed to be your knight if he slips right along with you?

To make a damn good impression, he pulls out the finest suit he has; one he saves only for special occasions. To him, this is certainly important enough. His choice of clothing, paired with the finest cologne he has is perfect for this night. Everything is in its rightful place. 

Now, all he needs is you. 

And when you arrive, it’s the most beautiful hee ever seen you. 

You’ve got such a fantastic choice in fashion, he wonders if that’s part of your line of work. The way your hair is done is just that much more striking, and that award winning smile to top it all off? 

Goodness, Dice better not mess this up. 

You immediately notice the slipperiness of the floor as you walk over to the bar, thinking nothing of it. You’ve walked in worse things before, and you haven’t tripped. Surely, you think, you can handle some tile that’s been cleaned a little extra. 

You grab your drink of choice, and carefully make your way to your favorite table, sitting in your usual spot. Your favorite dealer looks especially handsome today, you think to yourself as your eyes linger over Dice’s looming form for longer than they should. 

The man simply chuckles warmly in response, shuffling his deck with the occasional card trick thrown in before passing out the hands. 

You call, raising the open bet with that familiar confident gleam in your eye. The one that Dice had fallen in love with all those days ago. None of the other players have that confidence. 

Looks like your skill and luck take you far, yet again. 

Your royal flush steals the show, and you’ve gotta say, that’s probably your biggest win yet. You watch in satisfaction as the chips are slid towards you, finishing off your glass and setting it off to the side. 

Well, that’s the game of the night. You stand, acknowledging Dice as you trade in your heaping pile of small chips for a few large ones, for you to keep in your pocket. The man seems more assured than usual today. 

You cast him a wink before stepping away from the table, walking off with your winning chips in your pocket. Unfortunately, it seems that you’ve forgotten all about the greased floor. 

Before you know it, your foot slips from under you, and you start to fall, bracing yourself for a harsh contact with the unforgiving tile. 

That contact never comes. 

Instead, something else catches you nearly halfway. Something soft, silky, and smelling of Caron Poivre. Oh. Oh. 

That something is King Dice himself, grinning warmly down at you, his arm behind your back, and his free hand sweetly cupping your face. 

Now, it’s his turn to tease you, after all this time. It’s his turn to catch your aching heart, as you had done to him that first day you arrived. 

“Goodness, sweetheart. I know I’ve been trying to grab your attention for a while now, but I never figured I’d have to physically sweep you off your feet. Don’t tell me you’ve lost your touch after all this time, because of one measly drink…” 

For once, you’re frozen. You’ve got no retort, no comeback. Nothing to say. You just… stare. You take the time to look into his eyes, and inwardly scold yourself for avoiding them all this time. They really are a pretty sight for sore eyes. 

Those pupils of his are expanded so much you’re surprised you can still see a bit of those famous bright green irises. And they are just sparkling with want. Infatuation. 

You can’t look for long. Otherwise, you just might never be able to stop. Finally, you try to form some type of response, so he doesn’t have to stand there and hold you inches from the ground forever. 

“I… well, I just…” 

“What’s the matter, dear? Cat got your tongue?” 

Dammit, he’s gotten good at this. He looks at you so expectantly, waiting for a response, but with that strikingly handsome face? You’ve lost the words you had been trying desperately to gather up. 

He’s got you, after all this time telling yourself you wouldn’t fall for his trap. He’s got you good. 

“I… t-thank you, King…” 

He chuckles warmly, sending a few butterflies right into your stomach. 

“Don’t mention it, baby. I’d never blame you for slipping on these floors—the grease is always hard to walk over. It’s caught me a few times before, even.” 

Slowly, he helps you stand on your feet once again, and you brush yourself off, not making any move to leave. Not anymore. You’ve gotten so hooked, your caution has been thrown out the window. 

“I guess I owe you a drink, for saving my life like that.” 

Dice laughs. And fuck, it’s beautiful. It’s loud, deep, and so so powerful. It takes everything in you not to lock your lips onto his right there. Fuck. 

He’s hooked you tighter than anyone else he’s ever had. 

“Don’t you worry your pretty little head about all that. It’s on me, doll. But only on one condition.” 

“And what would that be, King?” 

“You let me take you out to The Ritz for dinner.”  

Damn him. Damn that no-good, rotten, sleazy casino manager, always making deals. Tempting deals that are hard to say no to. 

Aw, hell. What’s the point in life if you don’t take any risks once in a while? 

“Alright, lover boy. I’ll indulge you with that date. Now come on, an Old Fashioned seems to be calling my name over at the bar.” 

That deal turned out to be the best decision of your life. 

King Dice x Reader - "First Meeting" (SHOW)

If there’s anything a master of ceremonies like King Dice loves most, it’s attention. Power. Influence. Money. Especially money. What else is supposed to pay for his high maintenance lifestyle? The term “money doesn’t buy happiness” is utter bullshit to the star. 

And boy, does Dice get what he wants. All the time. The spoiled Devil’s lackey NEVER hears the word no. It’s really not in his vocabulary. If the King says jump, the servants say “how high, sir?” If he says bow, his fans are on their knees. Some even kneel down before he can finish the word. 

A beautiful penthouse separated from the rest of the “common folk” of Inkwell. The top show on the radio, that plays for hours, every single day the channels run. An adoring and loyal audience, who would do absolutely anything he would ask of them. 

The finest clothes money can buy. Five star meals from only the most expensive and high end restaurants. Endless jewels and other expensive trinkets to keep the showman happy. A simple card butler at every door, and several laying out his carpet. His own limo, and driver. Staff that take care of the home duties while he relaxes. 

Really, how could you get any more fulfilled than that? 

Well, King Dice could certainly tell you how.

Everything he has is fantastic, and he wouldn’t trade any of it away, sure. That’s a given. He does love his extravagant life he’s signed a contract to. However, after so many days, weeks, months, years of doing the same damn thing, over and over again, things start to get pretty old. Pretty fast. 

And sure, the parties, acting/musical gigs, and other various events of celebrities do bring about the variety to spice up the day, but even so, something is still missing. 

Of course, being the fantastic actor Dice is, he’s learned to hide his boredom when on the air, or in front of an audience in general. He’s learned to lie, very easily. Though, that may just be part of his nature. Dice has always been a good liar. 

But god, he needs some change to his luxurious yet excruciatingly boring life. Something to keep his attention.

Thankfully, his prayers start to get answered.

Dice’s audience switches up in terms of people and their seating arrangement, every night. The variety helps bring some newness to his beloved show, when things start to get a little too dry and repetitive. 

However… Recently, there’s been one person who’s started showing up to the show every night. In the same exact seat, without fail. Always the first one to arrive, and the last to leave. 

You. 

But although you are there the longest, loyally sitting in your seat with all the others, you aren’t as overly enthusiastic as the rest of his fans. 

No… it’s like you’re watching a movie by yourself. You sit, silently, with a small smile on your face. It’s oddly comforting to the star, seeing you watching him intently. Not making a damn scene, like the other folks who just can’t get enough of him. 

You’re there for the after-show, when Dice is surrounded by his overly excited fans, BEGGING him for autographs and pictures from the press. But you don’t smother him. You simply watch behind the crowd, with that damn smile on your face. 

You’re the final one there, but before he can offer an autograph or even just a chat, you’re walking off. It confuses him. You confuse him so much. 

Why on earth would you stay so long and then just leave, without saying anything? Are you shy? No, you don’t seem like the shy type. Your smile isn’t from being flustered. You smile warmly. Boldly. Like you simply stick around to watch Dice for entertainment, and nothing more. 

The man watches you leave, staying in place until you turn a corner, disappearing into the night. He stands, contemplates for a few moments, before heading inside his waiting limo, his mind still trying to wrap around you. To understand you. 

Night after night. Every single show. You’ve become part of Dice’s daily customs, except he never gets bored. In fact, the more you show up, the more interested he gets. 

The outfits you wear get prettier and prettier to him. That smile of yours starts to make him blush, right there on that stage. You start causing him to fumble a little, each time you catch his glance. Good lord, what are you doing to him?

No, there’s no question. Dice knows exactly what he’s feeling, but he’s too conflicted to admit his feelings. Dammit, he’s in love. 

He’s in love with someone he hasn’t even properly met. 

It’s unfair. It’s so unfair, how you know so much about him, and yet, he knows absolutely nothing about you. And you don’t even give him the chance to learn. You leave before he can say anything. 

After a while, Dice can’t help but follow from a distance. Nothing too crazy, he’s no creep, but he just wants to see just where you end up every evening. The route you turn on doesn’t typically lead to any residences, so you’re not going home. 

Dice discovers that you head to the nearby bar every night. The building is just a few doors down from the studio, really not a far walk at all. It’s where he finds you every night as he rides by slowly. He’s caught bits and pieces of you sitting at a stool by the counter, sipping away at whatever drink you fancy. 

That’s the one thing he’s got on you. You like having a drink after his shows. Nothing super telling, but interesting nonetheless. 

And with interest comes determination. Dice needs to find out more about you. He needs to hear your voice. Get your name. Anything. 

You’re like a parasite that Dice welcomes with open arms. You latch onto his brain, taking complete control over his thoughts. The game show host is more distracted during his performances, only showing emphasis and charisma because he knows you’re there. In fact, he’s more passionate about what he does, as long as it keeps your attention. 

Every laugh he coaxes out of you when he says something witty and funny. Every clap you give him after he finishes with his introduction and his signature exit. Every lingering stare, where you both lock eyes with each other. You’ve got beautiful eyes, shining with wonder and energy. He could get lost in them, if he didn’t have a show to run. 

All of these things drive him to do his job well. As long as he keeps you of all people happy and entertained, well, that’s now enough for him. All he needs now, is who exactly you are.

Another signing session after his show. He runs through each paper quickly, honestly just trying to get everyone out of his hair fast enough to keep you still. His eyes search for you the entire time, barely even paying attention to his audience. He doesn’t care about them. 

Just you. 

They finally start to dissipate, and Dice finally catches your eyes again. Just as you’re starting to leave. Before you can get too far, this time, a gloved hand grabs your wrist. 

“Wait-!” 

You pause, your head turning back to the host who’s staring at you with unusual kindness, it almost breaks you. Almost. 

“I… sweetheart, you’ve always been the last to leave, but you’ve never even said a word. You haven’t asked for a single autograph or photo. So tell me, why? Come now, just tell me a little about yourself.” 

The look he gives you is so entrancing, you’re so close to caving in. You can tell he’s trying so hard, you’ve seen it since the beginning. As soon as he saw you. 

But of course, you’re not stupid. King Dice is a showman at heart, and there’s nothing he loves more than his career. Some random, quiet fan wouldn’t change that at all. 

“Sorry, sir, but I know your type. It’d be dangerous to say too much, and I don’t want to take any chances.” 

You smile, taking his hand tenderly, and giving it a gentle squeeze before removing it from your wrist. 

“But I will say, you’ve got quite the gig going on here. You’ve caught my interest, that’s for sure.” 

And with that, you walk away, just as you have every night. Leaving the star to watch you disappear, wishing he had more. Leaving him with more questions than answers. Leaving him to his thoughts, which are riddled with your face. Your eyes. Your voice. 

It was the first time Dice had heard you speak, and god, the sound is heavenly to him. It’s a shame you left so soon, before he even got the chance to hear more from you. 

To the limo he walks, allowing his driver to take him home. He’s glued to the window, his eyes scanning the bar for your presence as the limo slowly makes its way through the busy streets. And there you are, in your usual seat, swirling a glass of your favorite drink. The view only lasts a few seconds, but those moments are precious. 

What he wouldn’t give to be beside you, sharing a bottle of rosé wine, lamenting to you about just how hard it is to keep up a professional appearance all the time. How he sometimes feels jealous of you, someone normal, someone who never has to pretend. 

Laughing with you. Joking around, and sharing stories from all of Dice’s career adventures. Hearing stories from you, about how you spend your time outside of coming to the show. Slowly scooting closer to one another, glasses in hand, your drinks clinging together in a toast. A toast to normalcy and good fortune. 

A toast to love. 

Hell, if you’d let him, maybe he’d even kiss you. How beautiful would that be, to taste the alcohol on your lips? To share a beloved connection with someone who seems to care about him? 

Dammit, Dice’s feelings have reached a crazy degree. He can’t deny it to himself anymore, he needs you. You’re the piece that he’s been missing in his life. Maybe, with you, he’d finally have that sense of wholeness again. 

The entire drive home, Dice thinks. Thinks of how to sweep you off your feet. How to get you to return his affection. What he can do to make his dreams come to reality. 

A solution is a lot harder than he thought it would be. For the first time in a while, Dice is stumped. 

You never leave his head, even when he falls asleep that night. You haunt his dreams. 

The routine is the same, the next time you show up to his performance. You watch him host with a warm smile on your face. He meets you out front, after the rest of his fans have been taken care of. You move to leave, and he grabs your hand yet again, striking up another conversation. 

“C’mon, doll, don’t leave me hanging like this. I don’t know how much more I can take. You know so much about me already, but what about you? Give me something to work with, here.” 

You laugh softly at his insistence, and Dice isn’t sure he’s heard a more beautiful sound in his life. You’re more intoxicating than even the strongest whiskey he stores in his mini bar.

You take his hand like you had before, but this time, your touch lingers ever so slightly. 

“I’m not sure what a brilliant showman like yourself is doing, trying to learn about someone like me. I’m really not all that special, sir.

Dice shakes his head, gently squeezing your hand, savoring the softness of your skin. The electrifying warmth you send through his hand, up his arm, right into his heart. 

“There’s gotta be more to yourself than you’re letting on, I see it in your eyes. Humor me a little, here. At least put a name to that beautiful face of yours.” 

You smile softly, turning towards him completely. Cocking your head to your side, you look at him in amused confusion, letting him continue holding your hand. 

“It seems like you’ve got your heart caught up in a tussle, King Dice. Alright, I’ll give you my name, if you can answer this for me: why me, out of all these people? You’ve got fans who would bend over backwards to make you their groom, why have your heart out for the quiet observer?” 

“I…you just interest me, is all. You’re different. Much different. You have that aura of mystery surrounding you, and I want to break it away. Now please, darling, your name?” 

You smirk at his answer, kindly rubbing your thumb over his knuckles before letting go of his hand, turning away once again. 

“You’re getting closer, sir. But you’re not quite there yet.” 

With a soft laugh, you walk away. Again. Dammit, you’re making this so difficult, the suspense is driving Dice mad. 

Slowly, hesitantly, he walks to his limo as usual, climbing inside. He stares at the hand you had held, intently, wondering just how he’s supposed to get you to crack. 

The slow approach just isn’t working. Dice needs to be bolder. He needs to catch you when you least expect it… 

He’s never accompanied you to the bar before. He’s always just watched you go, debating on whether or not he should. Well, now, he’s made up his mind. 

This has to work. 

That night was the last show of the week, giving Dice a day off in between. Normally, he finds joy in his time away from everyone else, using up his chance to have some alone time. But now? All it does is fuel his impatience. That day is the longest he’s ever had, with half of it consisting of clock-watching alone. 

Finally, Monday comes. Dice is back in business. And today, he’s going to pull off a trick that will surely catch you. It has to. The showman is on his last leg. 

His staff have never seen him practice so hard during rehearsal. Dice runs through the motions over and over again, even when he’s got the routine nailed down perfectly. 

Makeup is the same way. Applying the eyeshadow and mascara. Removing it when it appears to be too cakey. Applying again, lighter this time, with a little blush for good measure. Better, but barely noticeable. Adding another layer of the purple shadow, along with fresh pigment over his pips. 

With his makeup perfect, his performance perfectly memorized, and his suit straightened, Dice has one of the best show nights he’s had in a long time. His audience notices. His band notices. He’s sure even his boss notices, way down in hell. 

You notice. And that’s what he cares about. He sees it in your eyes. That beautiful glimmer that keeps him motivated. 

And the performance isn’t even Dice’s main trick. This is going perfectly. 

Granted, due to the fantastic night, Dice was kept back just a little longer than he’d like, greeting, signing, and smiling for photos. His cheeks are throbbing by the time he takes care of the last person. 

But this time, you wait. When you would usually be gone by this time, you decided to stay just a little longer. And Dice almost forgets his mission out of surprise. 

“You did great tonight, King.” You smile warmly, grasping his hand in yours. 

You both stand there for a little while, smiling warmly at each other, just silently enjoying the company. And then, like all the other nights, you let him go, and you leave. 

And this time, Dice is okay with that. 

Stepping into the limo, he directs his driver towards a parking spot at your favorite bar’s side door, where he won’t be noticed by the public. The last thing he wants is for the press to butt in on this moment. He needs peace for once. 

Quiet and humble, Dice walks inside the bar, immediately looking at where you usually sit. A lonely stool, in front of the bar counter. Surrounded by empty seats. Perfect. 

You swirl your glass of scotch in your hand, eyeing the drink as you contemplate to yourself. You wonder if you should let go of your danger sense, and take the risk. 

Should you give him your name the next time you see him? Should you let him show you a different side to his charismatic persona? A side that only you would ever get to see? 

“Scotch, hm? An interesting drink of choice, but I think it fits you. You’ve got the strong boldness that comes in the drink.” 

Looks like you’ve got a choice to make. 

You look over to the side, smiling fondly when you see the very same showman you had just walked away from, sitting beside you as the bartender whips up his drink. 

“Well, look what the cat dragged in. I never took you for someone who goes to the bar, King Dice… you seem more of the type to have the servants make your drinks.” 

The man laughs as his martini glass is slid his way, picking it up and carefully swirling its contents. You really do have such a way with words.

“Don’t be fooled, that’s usually how I take my alcohol. But the bar does offer something that I don’t have at home.” 

The man looks back up at you, slowly leaning forward, wanting to get lost in your shining eyes. 

“It gets pretty lonely without someone to share the alcohol with, doll. But here? Well…” 

You ignore the heated feeling in your cheeks, taking a drink from your whiskey, watching him closely. 

“Well what, sir?” 

“Why not try a drink in a place where there’s a little company? Some good-looking company, to boot. You seem to like it here very much—I see you sitting here with a drink in your hand every time my limo passes by the bar.”

It’s your turn to laugh now, as you take another sip of your drink. Alright, he’s got your heart’s attention and you know it. It wouldn’t take much more than a little nudge from him, and your shell would be broken. 

“I don’t know if it’s very safe for me to share a drink with a complete stranger, handsome as he may be.” 

Dice smiles, his hand reaching forward and tilting your chin upwards, like he’s trying to get a better look at you. He also gives you a chance to examine his facial features up close, and boy, he’s even better looking than your view from your seat in his audience. 

“Well then, let’s stop being strangers, shall we? I know I ask you this every night, but this is the last time I’ll try. What’s your name, gorgeous?” 

You chuckle softly to yourself, shaking your head slightly as you tip back, finishing off the last of your scotch, letting an ice cube fall into your mouth. You let it melt on your tongue slightly, swirling it around in your mouth as you contemplate your answer. He has been waiting very patiently for—! 

Every thought in your mind comes to a halt as a soft, sweet pair of lips takes over your own, an arm wrapping around your side to bring you closer. You blink in shock, eyes wide as you stare at the one responsible for the sudden gesture. 

It’s King Dice. And he’s kissing you. 

Slowly, you set down your empty glass, cautiously leaning forward, accepting the affection. You know he had been working hard to earn your love, but if you’re honest with yourself, he has already had it since the beginning. It just took him a while to unlock it. 

His tongue slides into your mouth, finding the ice cube you had been sucking on, and swiping it from you so quickly you barely even notice it’s missing by the time he pulls away. 

He smirks down at you, the ice resting against his cheek as he laughs quietly at your speechlessness. 

“Your name, doll. What is it?” 

Completely enraptured, you finally utter out the word that Dice had been dying to hear ever since your first conversation with one another. 

“(Y/n)… my name is (y/n).” 

With a victorious grin and a raise of his glass, Dice happily responds to your lovestruck mumble. 

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, (y/n). It seems now that we are no longer strangers.” 

He taps his fingers on the counter, and the bartender slides you a brand new drink, filled to the brim.

“So, how about that drink, then?” 

You take it slowly, raising it up so it’s just underneath your slightly sore lips. You smile once again, laughing in disbelief, feeling your heart skip a beat. 

“Whatever you say, showman.” 

And from there, it’s history.

[cosmica-galaxy]

Hello again Cosmica. Sorry about my previous ask about the female trio. Didn't realize you already made a post about them. So instead, I'll ask something else, do you have any alliance OCs that are the large units, particularly a large cameraman & large speakerman. I'll include the large TV man but there's only one of him & apparently he has an official name. Also what were the large units' first reactions to the human?

The large cameramen were the first class of "large" units to meet the human. They found the human to be very...pet-worthy. They like tapping their large hands against the top of the human's head when they get the chance. Plus, the human is pretty small and is able to be picked up with ease. Like a bunch of grapes. They find the human enjoyable...and maybe even a little adorable! . As for a named OC that's a large cameraman, yes! It's not stated in the story just yet, but when the human meets the large unit again, they give him a name! It's Malco! Named after a pretty old chain of movie theaters here in the US! (Plus, the human comments that he smells like popcorn!) . The larger speakermen find the human a handful...literally. The units are so big that a single hand is all that is needed to hold onto the human. They also find the human adorable and will probably stroke the top of their head with a large finger. It's kinda cute seeing something so small fit so comfortably in their hand. Plus, some will even have a chest pocket that the human will sometimes hitch a ride in. Either for protection or because they're tired. . There will also be a large speakerman OC! Originally (hilariously enough before I watched the multiverse series) his name was going to be "big ben" because he would have a clockwork tie and would be "as tall as a building". But I think I may change it and save "Ben" for a large clockman. So, I'm going with Philip until further notice. As it's the brand of CDs I grew up with personally back in the 2000's. <: ) . The large TV man would have heard about the human from other tv units in the base, maybe even from Vee himself, and would get curious. Upon meeting the human, he wouldn't be as impressed. But would still find them equally as adorable as the other large units...and who can resist petting them? Certainly not him. The human is tiny in comparison and fits in the palm of his hand, just like the large speakerman. He also is a little cheeky, like Vee. All in all, the human is an adorable pipsqueak to him. . As for an OC, I do have one in mind! His name is going to be Hertz! Why Hertz? Because the human thinks it's funny to make his name a pun, as he hurts skibidis and hertz is a measure of how often a screen can perform a refresh rate, which is fitting for a tv unit!