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starry-bi-sky · 11 days

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Stuck in the middle of a forest made of

Flesh and bones and they're all scared of

A lost little boy who has lost his heart

Fear's not enough, they have to

Tear him apart —-------

There are two things Daniel Fenton knows that his family knows as well:

He’s adopted.

He can’t remember anything else before that.

‘Adoption’ is a loose term, implying that they went through the official legal processes and troubles of adopting a child into their home willingly, and with the full intention of doing so going into it. That is not what happened. What happened is that Jasmine Fenton found a half-dead child, in strange clothing, in the middle of the woods at her Aunt Alicia’s cabin, and then she went and got her parents.

What happened is that a twelve year old Danny woke up in the same cabin, wearing clothes much too big on him that didn’t belong to him, and with very little memory of before that moment. He wakes up like a spring being set loose, sitting up so fast he scares the daylights out of Jasmine Fenton sitting next to him. He wakes up, reaching for his sleeve for something that isn’t there, and when it isn’t his mind stutters, like he’s tripped at the top of a steep hill.

When they ask him for his name, he tells them, clearing muddled thoughts from his mind; Danny. He’s twelve.

(He thinks that’s his name, at least. It sounds right; it feels right. If he thinks really hard about it, he thinks he can remember someone calling him that, utter adoration in their voice. So it must be his name.)

The Jasmine girl convinces her parents to take him home with them, and they give him the spare guest room upstairs. He has nothing to fill it with.

It’s… a strange experience, to go to a ‘new’ home when he doesn’t even remember his old one.

The official adoption process… happens. He can’t say it’s easy, or difficult. He’s oblivious for the most of it, Jasmine intends on helping him settle in and Danny can’t say he enjoys the smothering. He learns that he is stubbornly self-independent, that’s one new thing he knows about himself.

His adoption papers say ‘Daniel J. Fenton’. Danny remembers staring at the name ‘Daniel’ for a long, long moment, something curdling sour in his sternum. His name is Danny, that he knows. But it’s not Daniel. But he doesn’t know any other way of saying it, so he keeps his complaints to himself.

(Jack Fenton boisterously claps his hand on Danny’s shoulder and jerks him around, grinning wide as he welcomes him into the Fenton Family. Danny’s mind blanches at the touch on his shoulder, an instinct snapping like the maw of a snake, telling him to cut off the man’s fingers for daring to touch him.)

(He keeps the thought to himself, tension rising up his shoulders the longer Jack Fenton’s heavy hand stays on him.)

They found Danny in the summer. It’s a perfect coincidence, Maddie Fenton says before she goes back into her lab with Jack Fenton. She says it’s enough time to allow Danny to adjust; that they’ll enroll him into the school year in the fall. Then she stuffs a canister of ectoplasm onto the top shelf, and disappears like the ghosts she studies back down the stairs.

(There’s something eerily familiar about the ectoplasm sitting in the fridge, something unsettlingly so. Danny knows what that stuff is, but he doesn’t know where. When the house is empty, he takes a can from the fridge and inspects it.)

Jazz wants him to leave the house. Danny doesn’t want to step foot outside of the FentonWorks building until he has something that quells the feeling of vulnerability he gets whenever he does. He tried to once, and he felt exposed. Unsafe.

He turned back around and went inside.

—-------

Where do we go

When the river's running slow

Where do we run

When the cats kill one by one

—------

One day, when the house is empty — or, as empty as it can be; the Fenton parents down in the lab, and jazz out with friends. Danny is making a sandwich, and he caves into the urge to flip the knife in his hands between his fingers. A childish impulse, but one he falls for nonetheless. It comes to him easily, like second nature, in fact. The slip of the blade between his fingers is seamless, flowing with an ease like water running down the wall.

He’s almost startled by it; his body holds memories that his mind does not. Muscles that know which way to move and twist, limbs that know how to hold and how to throw. He continues twirling it, fascinated, as if he were a scientist discovering a new species of animal.

It’s not for a handful of minutes when a new thought hits him; an impulsive thought that pops in the back of his mind like a firecracker; Danny moves without thinking.

He turns, and throws the knife. The pull of his shoulder, the flick of his elbow, is familiar like a hug. He knows when to let go, and the blade flies through the air in impressive speed, embedding itself into the wall with a hearty, loud thunk. Sinking into the drywall like butter.

Danny stares at it in shock, he feels relieved — about what? — before he feels the guilt. He scrambles across the kitchen to pull it out, heart racing in his chest at being caught, and prays no one notices the hole it left behind.

(He runs up the stairs before anyone can find him, food forgotten, and hides the knife beneath his mattress like a guilty murder weapon.)

After that, he leaves the house more. It’s more out of fear of being caught than the desire to leave. But Danny is quickly learning that among all things, he is someone who was dangerous, before he lost his memory. Even with his mind in fractures, he is still dangerous.

He’s not sure how to feel about that — he thinks he should be scared. He feels a little proud, instead.

—------

Hazel beneath our claws

While we wait for cerulean to cry

Unsettled ticks run through time

Enough for the hunt to go awry

—-----

There’s another thing he learns about himself. That he knows about since he woke up. He knows that he left someone behind. He doesn’t know who, but he knows they must have been close; he’s always looking down and finding himself surprised when the only shadow he sees is his own.

He thinks that he must have sung to them a lot; he finds himself humming familiar melodies when he’s lost in thought. Lullabies lingering at the tip of his tongue, an instinct to turn and sing them to someone beside him. He can’t remember the lyrics, but his mouth does, it tries to get him to say them when he’s not thinking. He can’t.

Danny’s found himself humming under his breath more times than he can count, trying to recall whatever it is his mind is trying to claw forward.

(“That’s a pretty song, Danny.” Jazz tells him at breakfast one day, Danny screws his mouth shut. He hadn’t realized he was humming. “What is it?”)

(Something mean and possessive rears its head on instinct, uncoiling like a snake from its ball. His shoulders hunch defensively, he bites his cheek to prevent himself from baring his teeth. He doesn’t know what song it is, but it’s not for her. “I don’t know.”)

He misses his person. Dearly. He knows, the longer he is without them, that they must have been close. Otherwise, he wouldn’t feel like he’s missing a chunk from himself. He wouldn’t be turning to someone who's not there; reaching for a hand that’s missing, birdsong on his tongue, a story to tell.

A dream haunts him one night. Warm and familiar, he’s holding onto someone smaller than him, they’re tucked into his side like a puzzle piece. He’s humming one of his songs that is always playing in the back of his mind, an unfinished tale of a harpy and a hare. Danny can’t remember their face, not all of it. He remembers green eyes, hair dark like his own, skin brown like his.

He loves them more than anything else in the world, a fact he knows down to his soul. He loves them so much it fills his heart with sunlight. Danny squeezes them tight, nuzzling into their hair; he makes them laugh. Then, he proudly boasts something. That when he takes something of their father’s, that his person — a sibling? That feels right — will be… the word fades from Danny’s mind before he can make sense of it.

His person hugs him tight, his… brother? And their mother — a woman whose face he can’t remember either, but who he loves like a limb nonetheless — appears, smiling. Her hands reach for them both, voice calling them, ‘her sons’. There’s ticking in the distance, it sounds like the fastening of chains.

Danny wakes up cold, tears streaming down his face. The details of the dream already fading from his mind like the cold pull of a corpse.

—-------

Harpy hare

Where have you buried all your children?

Tell me so I say

—-------

When school starts that Fall, Danny joins the sixth grade class, and quickly learns more things about himself. One of those things being that he’s smarter than the rest of his grade, whatever education he had before, it was better than the one he’s getting now.

Everyone knows he’s adopted right off the bat. He tells them when the teacher forces himself to introduce himself, but it’s not like they needed him to tell them for them to know; he never existed in their little world before now, and the Fentons are pale as they come. Danny is not.

He befriends Sam Manson and Tucker Foley; they ask him about the scars fading up and down his arms, they ask him about the scar carved diagonal across his face.

Danny, as politely as he can, tells them he doesn’t remember. He thought kindness would come second nature to him, his dream burned into his mind where he hugged his brother so sweetly. Apparently, his sweetness is only second nature to people he considers his own.

(It becomes even more apparent when Dash Baxter tries to bully him later that day, and Danny ruffles like an eagle threatened. His mind whispers, hissy and agitated, sinking like a shadow at his shoulder, several different ways Danny could kill him for talking to him like that, and fifteen more ways he could cripple him.)

(Danny ignores those thoughts, up until Dash Baxter tries to grab him. Then he breaks his nose on the wood of his desk. It’s easy how quickly the rest of his grade sinks him down to the status of social pariah.)

(At least Sam and Tucker still talk to him after that. When Danny goes to the principal’s office later, he wisely doesn’t mention the worse things he could’ve done than break Dash Baxter’s nose.)

—--------------

It clicks and it clatters in corners and borders

And they will never

Hear me here listen to croons and a calling

I'll tell them all the

Story, the sun, and the swallow, her sorrow

Singing me the tale of the Harpy and the Hare

—-------

More dreams come, of course they do. Each one halfway to forgotten whenever he wakes up, ticking faint in his ears. He is many different ages. He is young, shorter than a table. He is older, holding onto his little brother. He is singing in almost every single one. He is singing to his brother.

Danny can barely remember the lyrics, he’s begun leaving a journal by his bedside so that it’s the first thing he can write down when he wakes up. He’s a storyteller, he learns. He feels like a historian, trying to piece together a culture long dead and forgotten.

His most vivid dream-like memory is not a happy one, and for once he’s almost relieved he barely recalls it. He is somewhere that isn’t home, but his mother and brother are there. He is dressed in black, blades keen in his hands.

They are atop a moving train. They are fleeing something. His brother is struggling to keep up, he is small, and young. It’s beautifully sunny, they are somewhere green and lovely.

It is a fast dream.

His brother stumbles on something, and Danny, fast as a whip, snatches him by the back of his shirt and hoists him up to his feet before he can fall. “Watch your feet, habibi.” He murmurs low, a hand on his back. It’s hard to hear, there is wind in their ears.

His brother, face obscured in all but his eyes, which are green as emeralds, nods.

The dream blurs, but Danny falls behind. His foot catches on air — impossible, it should’ve been, at least. He never trips. — and he lands against the roof with a thud and a grunt. His mother and brother stop, and turn for him.

The train hits a turn before Danny can get up, and he shouldn’t have, something pulls on him, he swears, but he slips. He can’t find the purchase to pull himself up, cold fear hits him as his nails scrape against the metal.

His mother and brother’s horrified faces are the last thing he sees before he disappears off the side of the train.

(The ticking is at its loudest when he wakes up, pounding against his inner skull. He only manages to write down ‘train fall’ in his journal, before he’s flipping over to press his head into his pillow to get the pain to stop.)

—---

She can't keep them all safe

They will die and be afraid

Mother, tell me so I say

(Mother, tell me so I say)

—-------

When Danny is fourteen he is still humming songs he can’t remember, his mind still in a broken puzzle. But his room is now decorated with stars and plants in every corner. He has a guitar he keeps in the corner of his room, and he plays the lullabies in his head on the strings over and over again.

The ectoplasm in the fridge still unsettles him, still reminds him of a past he can’t recall. The knife beneath his mattress has returned to the kitchen — he doesn’t need it. He found a box in the attic last year, it had his name on it, and inside he found familiar, strange clothes, and more weapons than he thought was possible to carry on one person.

(Even without knowing that the Fentons prefer guns to blades, Danny knows, instinctively, that they were his weapons. He was — was? Is — a dangerous person. He takes the box down to his room to sort through. The weapons all fit into his callused hands almost perfectly — the grooves worn to fit his palm. They’re just a little small.)

(He tentatively takes a small blade with him to school one day, and feels much more comfortable with it sheathed beneath his shirt. He’s kept it on him ever since, like he’s reunited a lost limb to himself.)

Danny doesn’t have a name for his person, his little brother, nor does he have a name for his beloved mother. He’s haunted by dreams every few weeks, many of them repeating. He’s ingrained the words he can remember to memory, and the ones he doesn’t, he writes down in his journal. His little brother; Danny calls him a bird, he can’t figure out what kind. His little bird of some kind; when Danny takes something from their father — what, he can’t remember what — then his little brother will be a little bird.

(He doesn’t have a name for his brother, yet, but he’s calling his birdie in his head. It’s better than nothing.)

—------

Seeker, do you ever come to wonder

If what you're looking for is within where you hold

Will you leave a trail for them to follow a path

You'll soon forget

Home

—---------

When he’s fourteen, Danny dies. It does nothing to fix his fractured memories, much to his consternation. It just confirms something he already knows; that he was someone dangerous, and that he still is.

When the shock of death has worn off, Danny inspects his ghost in the metal reflection of the closest table. It’s blurry, hard to see, but shock green eyes pierce back at him, green like the portal. Lazarus, Danny’s mind whispers, and he blinks rapidly.

‘Lazarus,’ he mouths to himself. It’s familiar. Sam shows him with her phone what he looks like, joking that he looks like an assassin. Danny doesn’t think she’s that too far off.

He doesn’t tell her that. He tucks the thought away with the rest of his secrets, and fiddles with the hood gathering at his neck, attached to a cape with torn edges swinging down to his ankles. He pulls it over his shock white hair. It shadows over his face impossibly so, until all you can see are his green-green eyes peering out like a wolf hiding in the brush.

He ends up calling himself Phantom.

(Maybe now he can start putting lyrics to his lullabies; his memories may not have returned, locked away with the sound of a clock, but the dead can talk. One of them may just have answers.)

----------

Home is where we are

Home is where you are

Home is where I am

-----------------

Dedicated to @gascansposts for being the one who introduced me to the band Yaelokre, and thus being the whole reason I was inspired to write this in the first place >:] Those lyrics at the line breaks are all from their album Hayfields.

#dpxdc #dp x dc #danny fenton is not the ghost king #dp x dc crossover #dpxdc crossover #dpdc #danyal al ghul au #amnesiac danyal al ghul au #songs in order of the album: the hartebeest / harpy hare / and the hound / neath the grove is a heart #musician danny has my heart and soul #yes this danyal IS an alternative danny from the other au. an au where things were a little better :) but still sucks #implied good mom talia al ghul #danyal is a momma's boy send tweet #dpxdc ficlet #dpxdc prompts #dp x dc au #dp x dc fanfic #danyal is sTILL five years older than damian in this au #no beta no edits we die like danny fenton #poc danny fentons #i didnt know where to end this :(( i was gonna go on but i blanked. i thought about going into his relationships with his rogues and so on.#but that felt too much like trying to just increase the word count rather than actually writing?? if that makes sense #ugh im gonna have forgotten to include things and im gonna be kicking myself later #morally ambiguous danny whoo! we love to see it #since this was just for fun it doesnt really go into it all that much other than like. it happens. and that danny realizes he's dangerous #phantom in a hazmat suit? nah phantom looking like an assassin >:].#danyal al ghul with damian and his mom: 🥰🌸✨#danyal al ghul with everyone else: 👹🔪#am i heavily implying that clockwork had smth to do with Danyal’s amnesia and appearance by the cabin? 👀 maybe #not enough danyal al ghul aus where him being an assassin actually. has some kind of affect on him

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theartisticapparition · 7 months

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Her. I miss her

#homestuck #fanart #aradia #megido #Maybe Ill do a whole set of the beta trolls

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0vergrowngraveyard · 2 months

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It was another quiet and still night in Green Hill.

Sonic was sitting on his bed in Tails’ lab, leaned up against the wall of his room. He didn’t use his bed very often, he always preferred the couch since it was easy to just plop down on and pass out, but he’d been using it a lot recently.

He wasn’t sure why he suddenly wanted to use the usually forgotten room. It's not like what piece of furniture he decided to lay on really mattered, he rarely slept either way.

Ever since he returned from the Shatterspace, everything just felt…different.

It wasn’t a good or bad thing, it was just different.

He was different.

And it’s not like he was very discreet about it, his friends definitely noticed. They just never said anything about it.

Well…that wasn’t entirely true. There was one person who occasionally hinted at his concern, but was never direct about it.

He knew the hedgehog too well to do that.

He looked down at the back of one of his gloved hands. For a split second, his white gloves turn grayish with white lines forming a grid, a familiar piece of technology at the center of his hand.

He blinked and it was gone.

Sonic sighed, putting his hand being his head, his other resting on his stomach, as he closed his eyes.

“Sonic?”

His ears perked up at the sound of his name. A small, fond smile forced its way onto the hedgehog’s muzzle as he opened his eyes halfway, his emerald green eyes meeting the baby blues that belonged to his little brother.

“Shouldn’t you be in bed, kiddo?”

Tails’ expression went from unreadable to annoyed in record time, an all too familiar glare forming a knot in Sonic’s stomach. A small pout formed on the kit’s lips as he averted his gaze downwards.

“And before you go and call me a hypocrite,” He moved the hand that was situated on his stomach, bringing it to about shoulder height and pointing down. “I am in bed.”

“You know that’s not what you mean by that.“ Tails groaned, rubbing his gloveless paw down his face. “And I was but I…I just…nevermind.”

Eyes slightly wider, Sonic took another look over his brothers’ appearance. He wasn’t wearing any shoes, gloves, or even socks, all four brown paws visible, and his fur was slightly ruffled. He always wore at least socks and gloves in his workshop and if the fuss he made anytime Sonic messed with him was anything to go by, he hated his fur being unnecessarily messy.

The kid was right, he had been in bed.

He noticed Tails starting to turn to leave and he sat up a little straighter as he swallowed past the lump forming in his throat.

He really didn’t want him to go.

“D’you have a nightmare?” Sonic asked him, desperately hoping that his voice sounded normal enough but alas, the kid could read him like an open book. The look he gave him definitely suggested that his voice wavered a bit.

Tails fidgeted with the tip of one of his namesakes and glanced back at the floor. “N-no, I just…it’s stupid, I’m sorry.”

Sonic begged to differ, Tails never came looking for him when he was upset anymore — even during thunderstorms, he’d argue that he was too old to look for comfort in his big brother and that he should be able to handle it himself — so the fact that the kit was standing in his doorway looking upset meant something was wrong.

And Sonic had a pretty good idea as to what it was.

“I can guarantee you it’s not, bud. What’s botherin’ ya?”

Tails was quiet for a few seconds, most likely debating if he should voice his worries. His grip on his tail tightened as he took a sharp breath, mentally preparing for the daunting task that telling your big brother about what’s bothering you apparently is.

“It’s just…” He started, refusing to meet his eyes, “ever since we got back from the cave with the whole prism thing, you’ve been…weird.”

Sonic’s mouth pressed into a line, it seemed he had guessed correctly.

“You’re constantly trying to be around us, but you’re also distant. A-and…it sorta feels like you’re walking on eggshells around me specifically.”

The kit’s ears pressed against the back of his head. “So uh…I guess I just wanted to ask if I did anything to upset you recently?”

Sonic just stared at him. The answer was no, easy. It was pretty much always no. Tails could never upset him. But the words were caught in his throat.

Because that was it, wasn’t it? Tails could never upset him, but someone who looked exactly like him did (well, he wouldn’t say that Nine upset him, either. It was more like he scared him, but even that felt a little harsh.)

He knew it was wrong, projecting one two-tailed fox onto another. He thought he’d learned his lesson, but considering his baby brother was standing at his doorway at the ass crack of dawn, hurt by the way he’d been subconsciously treating him like he had been the one who tried to steal his prism energy, it was pretty obvious that he hadn’t.

But he couldn’t help it that everytime he looked into the kit’s eyes, all he saw was that angry and hurt version of him.

He must’ve been staring for too long because a small “I’m sorry…” snapped him back to reality.

Tails had shrunken in on himself, looking smaller than he usually did. He looked so…young. He looked so guilty even though he hadn’t even done anything. He turned to leave, namesake still in his hands.

Sonic sighed, spreading one arm open. “C’mere bud.”

Tails’ eyes went wide in disbelief…and embarrassment.

“W-what? No-! no. It’s fine, really. I can go, there’s no need for this. Really! I’ll—“

“My arm’s gettin’ tired kiddo.” The hedgehog said, gesturing his head towards the open spot next to him. “Ya got like, 10 seconds.”

Tails hesitantly took a step forward, looking up at his brother to see what he’d do and once nothing happened, he took another step and looked up again.

Then he walked as fast as he could to his brother’s bed, climbing up and curling into his side. Sonic let out a chuckle as he pulled his little brother close to him, Tails responding by snuggling closer.

They sat in silence for a while. Sonic gently rubbed the kit’s back as he blankly stared ahead. The sound of palm leaves gently rustling in the wind was the only thing that filled the air.

“I really am sor—“ Tails started to say, but he was cut off by Sonic ruffling his fur.

“Shush, you.” The hedgehog said. “You didn’t do anything wrong, I promise.”

He looked down to see the kit looking at him, a confused expression on his face. “But-“

“Nope. I’ve just been a little stupid is all. Nothing that’s your fault.” Sonic expected the quiet that would follow, so he let his guard down, until he heard a small snicker coming from the fox kit.

“That’s a recent development?”

Unfortunately, he forgot how cruel his beloved baby brother could be.

Sonic’s gaze shot towards the kit, his expression turned to one of obviously fake shock as his brother giggled quietly into his side. He squeezed the kit as hard as he could without actually causing damage, Tails wheezing out a laugh in response.

“And here I was having a moment, speaking from the heart and all that, and this is what I get?” He said in a joking tone in between Tails’ giggles.

“You set yourself up for that one, don’t blame me!” The kit said, earning being trapped in a headlock and dragged halfway onto the hedgehog’s lap and noogied mercilessly. “Sonic!”

“Nuh uh, you don’t get any mercy after that!”

They both continued to laugh for a few minutes. Sonic dragged his little brother fully onto his lap, the kit squeaking as the hedgehog wrapped both arms around him in a tight hug. “Sorry for makin’ ya feel like something was wrong, bud.” he said.

Tails snuggled up against his big brother’s chest, feeling nothing but the security, love and warmth he’d grown up with flowing throughout his body as he melted into the hedgehog’s touch, a soft purr making itself known. “You don’t need to apologize.”

Sonic’s arms stayed looped around the kit as he leaned back and closed his eyes, the rumbling from the fox’s chest soothing the knot that had formed in his own, just like it always did.

The comfortable silence returned. Sonic was glad that the conversation turned light hearted. He didn’t think he was ready to even begin to explain whatever the hell happened in the Shatterverse, especially to Tails. Not when he knew the kit would blame himself no matter how many times he was told not to.

As the hedgehog felt his brother slowly drifting into slumber, his soft breathes slowly evening out, he suddenly felt a burning need to say something to him. Something he never usually said out loud because he never needed to. It always went without saying, that’s just how close their bond was.

But after everything that happened…

“Hey, bud?” He whispered, the kit stirring as he gently tapped him.

“I love you, Miles. I don’t want you to ever forget that, ok?”

Wide blue eyes snapped up at him, blinking owlishly. He was definitely confused by the use of his real name, but instead of voicing that confusion, he just smiled and nuzzled into his brother’s chest.

“Love you too, Sonic.”

Somewhere in the Shatterverse, there was another twin-tailed fox kit who sat alone in The Grim. Another Miles who had no big brother to cuddle with when he had nightmares or when he was just worried that he had somehow hurt his feelings.

Deep down, Sonic hoped his words would somehow reach him just as they reached the twin-tailed fox kit asleep on his chest.

He leaned forward, placing a light kiss on the top of his little brother’s head before he slowly followed the kit into slumber.

#graveyardtxt #maybe i’ll post this on a03 later idk #right now it’s just staying on tumblr #sonic the hedgehog #miles tails prower #nine is mentioned #unbreakable bond #the brothers ever #my beta reader is me rereading it like 50 times and still missing errors #fic #sonic prime

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cringefail-clown · 9 months

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okay lets do this: 5k likes on this post and ill read hivebent from start to finish without dipping halfway through. ill also liveblog it. no listening to lets read homestuck allowed, gotta do this the old fashioned way - by reading all the walls of text myself

#homestuck #posting this feels like giving up my soul on the hs gods altar without any benefit for myself #maybe a benefit will be me getting through the frigging act five #its been 10 years ive reread hs like 3-4 times never done it its kinda embarassing at this point #also maybe ill warm up to beta trolls?? who knows #setting the limit at 5k also feels like a mistake but Oh Well

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lcatscookie · 6 days

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I'm so excited, to see you excited!

Happy 4/13 y'all

#homestuck #413 #happy 413 #4/13 #june egbert #rose lalonde #dave strider #jade harley #john egbert #beta kids #maybe later I'll finish the alpha kid version of thsi wish me luck #yea it's a trolls 3 lyric. I don't want to talk about it

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maaxverstappen · 30 days

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help me hold onto you | T | 3/12

f1driver!max and streamer!charles

The man– Charles, Max assumes– sounds French. He loves that. He should be used to a French accent, he was forced to converse with Pierre often enough, but it sounds different coming from Charles. More melodic. Almost similar to someone he used to know once. “And that made me think,” Charles says, voice bellowing from Max’s speakers. “That it was stupid that we didn't have carrots before. Like, come on, it's a farming game.” Max has no fucking idea what the hell he is on about.

or: Max is lonely and finds Charles streaming on Twitch.

based on this prompt sent to @f1prompts

#eeeee I'm rlly excited about this!!!#the prompt lived rent free in my head since the moment i saw it so i Had To #hope i can do it justice just a little :)#also for context: the songs i would add to a playlist for this fic are the archer by taylor n satellite by harry #like i said in the authors note: currently anticipating 10 chapters and one every week or so. maybe be sooner may be longer #I'm excited to get it written and posted tho so we'll see!! hence the no beta too lmao my gf said she would but i wanna post it Now #alims writes #f1 rpf #f1 rpf fic #f1 fanfiction #f1 fic #formula 1 rpf #formula 1 fanfiction #lestappen #lestappen fic #lestappen fanfic #lestappen rpf #1633 #3316

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snailsnaps · 4 months

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*evils cutely*

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munsonkitten · 9 months

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Morning comes, and Eddie finds Steve sitting on the edge of the bed. He’s pulling his underwear on, slowly sliding them up his legs like he’s trying not to jostle the mattress too much. Eddie watches him for a second while he wakes up more, eyes threatening to shut again.

Steve turns and sees Eddie looking at him, and he looks surprised, like he’s been caught in some kind of act.

“Hey,” Eddie murmurs. He rolls onto his back and looks up at the ceiling.

“Morning,” Steve whispers back. He’s pulling on his socks now.

Like he’s going to leave.

“Where are you going?” Eddie asks.

Steve sighs. “Dustin missed the bus. I’ll come back after I drive him, okay? I’ll make it up to you.”

Eddie nods, pulls the blanket up to his chest. “Did he call here?”

“Walkie-Talkie,” Steve answers, picking up the device from beside him on the floor. “Surprised it didn’t wake you.”

Eddie shrugs and turns over onto his side again, curling up beneath his blankets. “Tell him to start setting his alarms an hour early if he’s going to do the ten-step Steve Harrington hair routine every morning.”

“He doesn’t,” Steve protests. “He said he couldn’t find the cat and panicked. You know, the last one got eaten so he’s worried about that shit.”

“That’s what he wants you to think!” Eddie says. “I bet you twenty bucks and a gram of weed he smells like your Farrah Fawcett hairspray and has his hair piled ten feet high when he gets in your car.”

“Okay first of all, Farah Fawcett hairspray has been discontinued for, like, two years. I don’t even have any of my own stock left. Can’t find it anywhere, no way Dustin’s got any left. And second, how do you know about that?”

“Oh, Stevie, baby,” Eddie croons. “I didn’t, not until now. You just confirmed it, though.”

Steve rolls his eyes and huffs. He stands and finds his jeans from last night, and then picks up a sweatshirt off Eddie’s floor.

“I’m borrowing this,” Steve says as he pulls it over his head. His head comes out of the hole. “But seriously, man, how’d you know about the hair spray?”

“Okay, fine,” Eddie says. “Nancy told me.”

“She was sworn to secrecy!”

Eddie laughs. “You better go drive him before he’s late for school, man. Wake me when you get back.”

He wakes up again to Steve coming in through the bedroom door. He has his wallet in his hand when Eddie opens his eyes, sees Steve opening it to pull something out, and then a twenty dollar bill is being tossed toward Eddie.

“I don’t have a gram of weed,” Steve says, petulantly. “But, to be clear, it wasn’t the Steve Harrington hair routine.”

“No?” Eddie asks, taking the money and dropping it on the nightstand. He slides his rings on top of it to keep it weighed down.

“No,” Steve says, kicking off his jeans. He throws himself into Eddie’s bed and burrows himself under the blankets. “He’s doing the Eddie hair routine now.”

“What, get out of the shower and rub it with a towel until it’s dry?” Eddie jokes.

Steve wraps his arms around Eddie’s waist and drags him in.

“Fuck you, man,” Steve huffs. “I know you take care of your hair. I love your fucking hair.”

Eddie smiles a bit sadly and buries his face in Steve’s throat. Hair has always been a thing for him. Complicated at best. He likes where he’s at now, but it’s always been complicated, trying to get where he is.

A discussion for another time, maybe, because Steve is pressing kisses to his head and letting his hands wander a bit.

The hands wander a bit too much for eight in the morning, but Eddie finds himself not really caring at all. Not when it feels this good. Not when Steve can make him forget all the thoughts that creep back up on him when he starts to think about those complicated things.

Read more on AO3

#this is going to be in chapter 3 which i’ll upload as soon as my beta gets a hold of it #maybe go catch up first so you’re ready when chapter 3 drops #steddie #steve x eddie #my fics #steve/eddie #steddie fic #steve harrington x eddie munson #eddie munson #steve harrington #trans eddie munson #fic snippet #steddie snippet #fic wip

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crocchompers · 5 months

Text

Beta with a monster arm sounds pretty cool

Idk why but i like the thought of his face being split open down the center of his face

I think it's really cool tbh

#welcome home #wally darling #beta wally #art #welcome home au #idk if it's an au or not #maybe i'll consider it #idk yet #monster arm

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flamingpudding · 9 months

Text

Part 9 of Ghost Kid in Gotham

>>Masterpost

<<1 Previous Next

Pit Demons aren't pets, now stop biting!

Jason sighed as he pulled into the bat cave with his bike. This was the third day in a row now that he was coming back into the Manor now and most likely stayed over again. Steph and Cass were due back from her mission today and Jason knew Alfred was preparing for the Family dinner that was going to happen either today or tomorrow.

Depending if Dick could finally gets Bruce out of his office.

It didn't really matter to Jason though. He was just here to… well he didn't know either but he knew that he was trying to keep an eye out for the little biter. Even if he had to deal with Timber being frustratingly annoying with the whole ghost cult thing.

So what if he could read what they claim to be squiggles. Not that he could prove otherwise, because all he saw was perfectly readable letters. Thankfully he had gotten Tim off his back for some time as he went to deal with something in Crime Alley.

He checked the group chat and scowled.

Apparently the entire Manor was in a state of chaos and Demon Brat was dragging Duke around the entire manor to have him use ghost vision to find the little shit. Not that it was helping since the last update was from 15 minutes ago and apparently the light path Duke had followed ran into a wall.

He looked over to the Batcomputer to find Tim going through the security footage. The other hadn't even so much spared Jason a glance so far too focused on trying to find how the kid could have disappeared from Damian's room without any of them noticing. Alfred and Demon Brat had put down the kid for a nap in Damian's room despite having a room prepared for the little biter and when Damian checked on the kid after doing his school work he found the kid gone.

"Still nothing on the kid?"

"Nothing, it's like the kid vanished into thin air. Not even the sensors in Damian's room picked anything strange up that could hint at his disappearance."

"I still have bite marks, so he definitely was not a mass hallucination."

Tim glared at Jason and the elder only shrugged. It was probably a bit to soon for that kind of joke. But his brothers weren't the only ones worried.

He wasn't even sure if Bruce knew, considering the last he heard was Dick and the old man having a 'talk' again. Dick was probably leaving the search to them for the moment to deal with whatever problem B was having right now.

"Think someone kidnapped the kid?"

"No. Aside from us, and probably the LoA, no one should know about Danny. The League taking him back wouldn't make sense. Besides why would anyone attempt to kidnap him from the Wayne Manor of all places? Gotham's Kidnappers might be dumb but not that dumb."

Jason sagely nodded in agreement. There was something tugging at the back of his mind but he couldn't explain what. It was like on the first day he had brought the little biter to the batcave. Over his shoulder he glanced into the direction his mind -no, the pit was urging him to go.

The pit had been strangely quiet and subdued ever since he met the kid. Protective of the biter at times but he despite the way Timber had annoyed and pestered him previously, he had not felt his own annoyance swing over into that uncontrollable rage.

There was a suspicion, a working theory. Something he wasn't yet willing to share with the rest of the family, despite the fact that he was sure that they had also noticed. It was a glaring fact that he was staying with them in the Manor despite Bruce being there too.

But until there was more confirmation Jason wasn't going to mention any of his suspicions, not if they could possibly endanger a little kid.

Because if he was right then the little biter was brought back way different than him and could also have some Pit controlling powers. The way his own mental Pit reacted to the boy was most likely proof but also what the other had found out so far. Lazarus water was fucking affecting the kids DNA.

It didn't help that Replacement had mentioned a suspicion that the League had most likely experimented with the kid and the Lazarus water judging by the scars they had discovered.

Someone might have deemed the kid a failure at first or the kid had escaped and somehow found his way to Jason's apartment with him probably being the closest thing to what the kid was.

Maybe the kid could sense him the way he could with his Pit. Shaking his head out of these thoughts Jason focused back at the problem at hand.

"I will check with Alfie, see if he knows any more hiding spaces kids would love to use." He patted his younger brother's shoulder only getting a grumble as answer before turning and going towards the elevators.

But before he could enter he once more glanced at the direction the pit was urging him to go. Hesitating, he looked back towards Timber and then the elevator.

"Fuck it." He muttered and decided to trust that stupid pit instinct or whatever that was, though with a threat in his stomach that once more just like the first time when they had searched through the cave to find the kid, the pit was leading him towards the Lazarus Pit.

Once he realized where he was going he stopped. "I should just fucking get Replacement or Demon Brat to check there." Muttering to himself he stared at the direction he was heading towards. When he found the little shit there before the kid had jumped him, chomping down on his arms.

The kid had only led go of him after he spat out green fucking Lazarus Water. Like what the actual fuck? Jason had pushed that experience as far out of his mind as he could but he was remembering it now again. It had been worrisome but they had chalked that up to the kids' contamination.

But now? Now that the pit in his mind was urging him to go there again? He couldn't help but think that there was more to it. Maybe his own dip in the pit had something to do with the little shits obsession with him?

Letting out a sigh he was ready to turn on his heel and get one of the others to check this area when he suddenly heard childlike laughter. "You are shitting me…"

With a scowl he marched towards the Lazarus Pit only to stop in his tracks the moment it came into view.

The little biter was sitting on the ground by the Pit as green glowing blobby orbs floated around the boy. The boy was poking them saying something, he couldn't really hear from this distance and then laughed. There was a light in his blue eyes that Jason hadn't seen before, a happiness even. It would be a really cute image of the kid playing with some green blobby orbs, if these things weren't probably some sort of dangerous Pit Demons.

Fuck what was he going to do now? If they were dangerous and he startled them the little shit could end up in real danger. So far they hadn't noticed him.

Grumbling while keeping an eye on the laughing boy, he sent a quick message into the chat telling the others little biter was in the batcave by the Lazarus pit. He knew the moment Tim saw the message he would come running, same with Demon Brat.

Despite knowing that was not a cute moment but dangerous, he snapped a picture anyway. Just for the record and to make sure he wasn't hallucinating or something. Because the kid was actually laughing, not hissing, not blankly staring, glaring or watching one of them but actually laughing like a kid his age with a shine in his eyes he hadn't seen before.

Demon Brat can thank him later for that picture, if Jason decides to share it with the others that was.

Echoing steps could be heard behind him and just like he predicted his brothers came running. The kid's laughter instantly stopped when he heard it too and his head snapped towards Jason, eyeing him warily. One of his hands was still stretched out towards one of the blobs, probably to pet it, but had stopped midway.

It was weird how the blobs were also now turning towards him and sort of looked displeased? Were these demons upset that they made the kid stop showering them in affection?

"Danyal!" Damn were they fast if they wanted to. Rushing past him their formerly youngest kneeled by his younger twins side patting the kid down and checking them over. Jason narrowed his eyes. Did Damian not notice the green glowing orbs that were all around the kid?

"So he was here the entire time?!" Timber asked the moment he coughed up, baffled. "How did we miss that?"

"Hey Replacement?" He had to ask, like come on, he couldn't be the only one seeing these green blobby orbs floating around the little biter and now the Demon Brat.

"Do you see-"

"What are these green blobs?"

Duke appeared next to them, clearly worried. Well that at least spared him having to ask that himself. From the corner of his eyes he watched how Tim blinked confused then rubbed his eyes like he was noticing them for the first time.

"Are those?"

"Small Pit Demons." Demon Brat answered them casually, waving one of them away when it got too close to his face. "They used to be around Grandfather's Lazarus Pit all the time. They seem to appear where Pits are and are harmless if you leave them be."

"Wait, you know about them?"

"Of course. They usually stay out of sight but it was not unusual to get a glimpse of them every now and then. Danyal used to point them out when we were younger. I am surprised that none of you ever noticed them before."

"Demon Brat, are you fucking kidding me? We got literally Pid Demons in the Batcave?!" They had fucking Pit Demons in the Batcave because of the Lazarus Pit and the damned brat didn't bother to tell them? What the fuck?

"Blob Ghosts! Not Demons!" The little biter piped up and Jason turned to stare at the kid not quite in disbelief but really? That was what the kid cared about, what they called these things?

"I don't fucking care what they are called. They still come for the fucking pit"

"Uhm…" Oh right all they hear from the kid is chirping or thrilling noises.

"What did Danyal call them?"

"Blob Ghosts."

"Blob Ghosts…" Before he knew it Tim was gone, nose deep in the weird ghost cult book muttering something about a connection between the Pits and that cult. Was he seriously carrying that book around everywhere now?

"Dami, can we keep-"

"No." Where were Dick and Bruce or maybe even Alfred? He did not want to act as the responsible eldest here. Helping Demon Brat sneaking various animals into the Manor to annoy Bruce was one thing but keeping fucking Pit Demons? Hell normally he would be all for it but fuck did he not want to deal with anything that came for the fucking Pits. Nope, this was not his kind of deal.

Apparently the kid didn't like his instant refusal as all he heard was a hiss in warning, followed by the simple command of "Smother him!"

His vision was swarmed with green and not the kind of green that happens when Pit Rage took over. No it was the kind where a lot of green glowing blobby orbs decide to swarm you. He swatted at them like they were flies, sometimes it worked, sometimes he noticed how his hand would go right through them without effect.

"Get the fuck away from me!"

"Danyal!" He could hear Demon Brats scowling tone but he didn't know what it was about until a second later he felt a weight hitting his chest knocking him over.

"WHAT THE FUCK?! GET FUCKING OFF ME!"

There was another hiss and a pain, he was getting familiar with, bloosemed in his right forearm and in between the green blobs he got a glimps of the little shit biting down on is arm a-fucking-gain. Though the kids eyes were blue he could still see a green flickering in them.

"Oh for the love of… Danyal! I told you to stop biting them!"

"Shouldn't we be more concerned about the Pit Demons attacking Jason?"

"Todd will be fine as I said they are harmless. Danyal, I said get off him this instant or I will tell Pennyworth to withhold your snacks."

"I feel like priorities aren't set right here…"

Despite his doubts… Duke still took a picture of the chaos to share with the others later. Dick surely would get a good laugh out of whatever this was.

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nevertheless-moving · 5 days

Text

I wrote it. They ask.

"So you're essentially an expert on honor, right?"

Kaladin blinked at Shallan, unsure what to make of the question. The three of them had finished eating, and had moved to a smaller, shared table for drinks, secluded from the rest of the building by a hazy curtain. The conversation had been drifting lazily from the city's latest scandals to squire hijinks.

"What?" Kaladin finally said, slightly confused at the abrupt change of topic.

"Of course you are, you're the first person chosen by an honorspren in thousands of years!" Adolin said enthusiastically.

"I mean—"

"And you always figure out the right thing to do!" Shallan said.

"That's definitely not—"

Adolin nodded. "Never murder anyone in cold blood, even when they deserve it."

Kaladin sighed heavily. "Where are you two going with this?"

Shallan coughed into her freehand. "Well, you see, we've been having a little debate about...honor."

"And we were hoping you could settle it. Impartially," Adolin said, tone serious.

Kaladin squinted at him. There was something off about his expression. "Can't you ask Syl?"

Syl was meeting with some of the honorspren with newer bonds tonight; she had insisted that she could handle it on her own, and that he should take the night off, but he was sure she would be happy to switch places to come by and give her opinion on other people's business; that was practically a hobby for her. He wasn't sure sure where pattern was, come to think of it; he hadn't heard him buzz in a while.

"Actually we did!" Shallan said brightly.

"She was our first choice, no offense," Adolin said. "I don't think she entirely understood the dilemma."

"It's a bit too, well, human." Shallan took a large sip of her wine, emptying the glass, but didn't waive over a server for more.

Kaladin felt dread start to coil low in his stomach, the fragile relaxation of the evening starting to slip away. "...I'm going to regret hearing about this, aren't I?"

Adolin leaned towards him, turning wide, pleading eyes his direction. "Please, Kaladin?"

Shallan matched him. Stormfather. Not so long ago ago, lighteyes looking at him like that would have filled him with derision at most. What had happened to him.

"Fine." Kaladin leaned back in his seat, giving in. He was a little curious, even though he knew he wasn't going to be happy with whatever he was about to hear. "What is it?"

Shallan straightened, as if to give a presentation before the Queen. Storms, I have a really bad feeling about this.

"Well, as you know, I'm a lightweaver, and can change mine or someone else's appearance, such that they exactly resemble another. I can also create an illusion, so that it appears that an individual is present, when in fact, they are not."

"...Yes?" Was Shallan nervous? Adolin didn't kill another highprince, did he?

"Now, obviously, practicing lightweaving by pretending to be someone else, when done entirely in private, I mean just me, myself, and I, practicing my radiant abilities, can't possibly be dishonorable."

"I guess?"

Adolin leaned forward now, one hand gesturing sharply. "But what if I'm there? I mean, no ones suggesting that it would be acceptable for Shallan to assume a specific private individual's form in public."

"Unless it's to save lives," Shallan said.

Adolin nodded. "Unless of course it's to save lives."

"Or as part of my crown assigned radiant duties."

"Or that, can't forget to mention that."

"Or with said individual's consent."

"Naturally, consent makes all the difference."

"Quite a few shades of grey."

"Truly, once you think about it. Infinite nuance."

Kaladin pinched the bridge of his nose, scowling to keep from laughing. "Did you rehearse this?"

Shallan waved her hand in his face, forestalling any other objections. "In any case! Would we be disrespecting an individual, let's call this person 'Lin' for short, would we be behaving dishonorably towards Lin, were I to assume Lin's form, or have Adolin assume Lin's form, or have Lin appear while both of us are present, soley within the privacy of our chambers?"

Kaladin waited a few seconds for Adolin to chime in, but he just continued staring intently at Kaladin.

"...This is about Lyn?"

"No, not Lyn, Lin," Shallan corrected primly. He could just barely make out a difference. "Neutral born unto. Just, we don't want to say her — say their name specifically, but I thought saying 'the individual' would get unwieldy."

Ok, probably not about Lyn. Unless they're using a confusing fake name to make me think that. He started to feel a throbbing at the base of his skull.

"Is there some specific reason you want to look like... Lin?" He dropped his voice slightly, rubbing his temples. "Is it for a practical reason? Or do you want to make fun of her — them?"

"Definitely not to make fun of them!" Adolin said, voice dropping to match Kaladin's.

"Many people would consider it flattering," Shallan whispered. "For their form to be assumed in this specific context!"

"We're just not certain if Lin would think that, and we're worried that it would be worse to ask."

"So we decided to ask you instead, since again, you're —"

Kaladin waved a hand at her before they could jump into another bizarre routine. "Honorable, yes, whatever, fine. I get it."

Adolin put a hand on his arm, expression earnest. "Look. If you think we should just directly talk to Lin then we'll do it. We just...don't want to embarrass them, or hurt their feelings in someway. We genuinely aren't sure how they would react, and I mean. You don't have to ask someone's permission for thinking about them, but this is a step up from that, and it's not like there's many people who have had the option, so...hence the uncertainty, and asking for a neutral, completely unconnected, third party opinion."

"Alright, I...guess that makes sense? In an extremely weird way." Kaladin looked between the two of them. Shallan's expression was open and honest, but unfortunately that didn't mean much. Adolin was earnest, but there was something weird about his posture. Guilty? Excited? "But why do you want to see a lightweaving of Lin in private so much?"

Shallan pretended to take a sip out of her empty glass. "I assume you can guess, bridgeboy. Is it really necessary for us to say it aloud?" She had just a hint of red staining the tops of ears, but she colored easily. It could just be the alcohol.

"I really don't know," Kaladin said, baffled. "Is this a lighteyes thing? Like you want to, I don't know...model fashion on them?"

"Ooh." Adolin suddenly looked far too eager. "That's actually not what we were thinking."

"I didn't think it was a lighteyes thing," Shallan said. "But I suppose it could be. I don't have a significant enough sample size to presume." That was clearly a joke there that Kaladin didn't get.

Adolin cleared his throat. "Well." He made another sharp motion with his hands, letting Kaladin go. "As you know, Shallan and I are married."

"Yes, I was at your wedding," Kaladin said dryly.

"We are married," Adolin repeated, talking over him. "And that comes with certain... duties and privileges."

"Among which—" Shallan was definitely blushing now. "—and I suppose this could be considered an, ah, 'lighteyes thing,' is well. The need to create an heir."

They can't possibly be asking me this. Kaladin looked desperately to Adolin, but the man just gave him a sheepish, apologetic grin.

A small part of Kaladin curled up and died.

Blood Of My Fathers.

"No," Kaladin said. "Absolutely not. You are not asking me about something to do with your sex lives."

"You see," Adolin said. "I know you've said you don't have interest in, well, any of that. But for many the process of creating an heir is not just—"

"ARGH." Kaladin threw his arms up, crossing them over his head.

"— a responsibility but a pleasure which—"

"Almighty's Tenth name!"

"—can be performed creatively—"

Kaladin pressed his head to the table, burying himself in his arms to hide his too warm face and probably disgusted expression.

"Stop. Please. Stop." He knew he was whining in a way ill befitting a Windrunner of his Ideal, but the booth they were in was private, and Adolin and Shallan had seen him in far less dignified circumstances.

"Sorry," Adolin said, patting him on the shoulder. "Just wanted to make sure you understood."

"Well I don't!" Kaladin said, looking up but not lifting his chin from his arms. "And I don't storming want to! Why can't you just look like yourselves! I thought you liked how each other looked! I've literally caught you drooling!"

Adolin frowned. "I don't drool, bridgeboy."

Shallan's face was nearly as red as his face felt, but her expression was significantly more gleeful. "I…there may have been one sparring session I observed…that may have generated a small amount of moisture."

Adolin cocked an eyebrow, and smirked. "Moisture, huh?"

"I hate you two," Kaladin lied emphatically.

"Sorry, Sorry." Adolin patted him on the shoulder again. "So? What do you think?"

"I think Rlain is right and its a storming miracle humans have managed to accomplish anything when most of us are permanently stuck in mateform."

Adolin heaved a dramatic sigh. "About our question, Kal, come on. We know you don't like talking about this stuff but that's exactly why we needed your opinion! You're unbiased!"

"And honorable, yes you said. Have I mentioned before that the rewards for being honorable blow?"

They turned twin pleading expressions toward him and he caved immediately. Storms, he had gotten weak. "Battar and Shallash, fine," he snapped. "Fine, give me a minute, alright. Just stop talking. "

The two waited, Shallan only opening her mouth to make a joke twice, Adolin successfully nudgeing her quiet each time; Kaladin lifted himself up, elbows on the table and head in his hands as he looked down, forcing himself to actually give it serious consideration. Wait, I thought Veil was the one who was attracted to women. Oh. Right.

"Alright," he finally said. "I get that people can't always help what they...think about. That's fine. And I also know that trying not to think about something sometimes makes people think about it more, so."

Adolin and Shallan nodded. "You have no idea," Adolin said. "Seriously, I love Shallan, I've absolutely tried not looking at other women's — anyway. It's so much easier to just forgive eachother the occasional wayward glance or errant thought." They squeezed each others hands.

Kaladin sighed. "Right. Sorry if I came off as judgemental."

"No, no, you've made it very clear that you don't like talking about such things, it's completely reasonable to be unhappy. We are sorry for the times we...overshare in front of you."

"It's fine," Kaladin said curtly. "Really. I know you try. Anyway. I also understand that people sometimes, er, fantasize. That way. About things or people they don't actually want in real life. And. Uh. Sometimes people... act that out."

Kaladin stared determinedly at the table, face hot. There was a swirling pattern in the marble that he hadn't noticed before.

"You do?" Adolin said, sounding surprised.

Kaladin coughed. The swirling pattern kind of looked like a river, viewed from above. "There. Might have been an incident, early on in the army, when I heard a couple and, er, overreacted slightly. They took the time to explain things in... painful detail. It's fine. None of my business."

"That's. Very open minded of you," Shallan said, sounding slightly strangled. "Tell me, when the couple was explaining things — oof." Kaladin didn't look, but he was fairly sure Adolin just stepped on her foot, something he was infinitely grateful for. It had been an extremely mortifying lesson. The pair had said they weren't mad about being interrupted, but he was fairly sure they were lying, considering how much detail they went into in their explanation.

"Honestly, the whole...dressing weird, or calling eachother names or using ropes or whatever—"

Adolin made a choking noise. Kaladin kept looking at the little river pattern in the table. If he squinted there were mountains and farms too.

"—all that stuff isn't more or less...unappealing. To think about. Then just regular sex." Kaladin paused. "That is not permission to talk about that sort of thing with me. Please don't share anything about your sex life with me, ok?"

"Of course!"

"We know."

"So," Kaladin continued, rubbing his cheeks to try and get rid of the blush. "Wanting someone isn't breaking your vows. Neither is thinking about them. Probably talking about them is fine too."

He ran his finger along the small river in the polished stone. He could practically feel two sets of light eyes drilling a hole in him.

"My concern, of course, would be for Lin. If playing around with their image would affect the real person. My main concern is it will impact the way you two interact with them."

"If we thought it did then we'd stop immediately," Adolin swore without prompting. "The real person matters far more than our...baser feelings."

"Absolutely," Shallan agreed softly. "We truly don't want to hurt them. That's why we've been struggling with this."

"I believe you," Kaladin said, scrubbing a hand over his face. "Alright, so you've already been...thinking about them, while together, and it hasn't impacted your interactions with the real person."

"No!"

"Trying not to think of them that way was worse," Adolin said ruefully. "I am...fairly sure they have not noticed any feelings on my part, and even if they had they've ignored them very politely so...like I said, if messing with lightweaveing changes that, we'll stop right away, but I don't think it will. We know who they are."

Kaladin studied the marble some more. He was pretty sure he had flown over somewhere in Alethkar that looked a bit like that riverbend, but he couldn't remember where.

"You cannot do this anywhere someone could possibly see or overhear," Kaladin said, looking up to make brief, serious eye contact with each of them. "Not visiting another city. Not where guards or servants could overhear, even trusted ones. Not in the duelist preparation chamber — yes I know about that. Not while exploring the less used parts of the city — yes, I heard about that too. Not in your sitting room or against the door, where someone passing by could overhear. Just in your own bedchamber, door locked."

"That sounds reasonable," Shallan said, flushing but solemn.

"Very reasonable," Adolin agreed, nodding sharply.

Kaladin grimaced, looking back down at the table. "I think...while part of me says you should ask Lin directly...that also sounds somewhat humiliating for everyone involved. I mean, again, it's more similar to thinking about someone than anyone else, and even if they were, er, flattered... It's not like you would actually be able to sleep together anyway, with your marriage oaths, so it would be a moot point."

"...Right," Adolin said unconvincingly. Kaladin decided not to think about that.

"So... it's alright?" Shallan said hopefully. "With those conditions? Not dishonorable?"

Kaladin forced himself to look up again, and immediately regretted it. They both looked far too eager.

"Not dishonorable," he sighed, closing his eyes and leaning back.

"Thank you!" Adolin said, with way too much passion.

"Thank me by never speaking to me of this again, and never asking me anything like this for the rest of our lives."

"Yes to the first one, no promises to the second," Shallan said gleefully. "Well. Now that we've discussed that matter, how about we get back to talking about—"

"Leave. For the love of all that is good, please leave," Kaladin begged, not opening his eyes. Shallan took advantage of this by kissing him lightly on the cheek. Adolin hugged him from the other side.

There was the sound of spheres tossed on the table and rapid movements, and then they were gone.

Kaladin opened his eyes, shaking his head. One of them had knocked over a glass in their haste to leave. They had, of course, left a small fortune to pay the bill.

He left the winehouse feeling...bemused mostly. Maybe he'd go find Rlain and they could gripe about humans and mateforms together. He would probably not make eye contact for Lyn for the next week, even though he was fairly sure they were talking about Isnah or Beryl. Best not to guess. He kicked off from the ground, the rush of wind immediately clearing away discomforting thoughts or lingering stress of the day.

He smiled, speeding up and feeling his heart race with the exhilaration that only the sky could bring, with no pressing meetings or appointments to get to. Syl had been right. It was good to take a night off every now and again.

#stormlight archive #cosmere #stormlight fanfic #kaladin stormblessed #shockingly sweet and wholesome considering the premise #asexual/sex repulsed Kaladin Stormblessed #Prude kaladin Stormblessed #shadolin #unrequited feelings #nevertheless writing #oathbringer spoilers #nevertheless cosmere #deliberately vague time period but maybe probably post book 5.#Shallan and Adolin are such trash. I love them.#if anyone feels like betaing this for ao3 posting send me a message

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