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#and then ending up dating him
mochixkisses · 5 months
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normal about him completely.
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iwoulddieforienzo · 5 months
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Personally I think percabeth is at its best when Grover is in it. I don’t necessarily mean in a polycule way I just think it’s great when he’s around
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mintaikcorpse · 25 days
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You cannot tell me that Husk, Mr. Husk, with everything he has being heart themed, him making and singing a song with Angel, him dancing with Angel, Vivzie confirming that he is "a very fluffy, cuddly animal," and his "I wanna get to know the real you thing," is NOT a romantic at heart.
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mo49ko · 4 months
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(fengqing) contains main story spoiler!!
it takes them another 200 years to get together 🙄 both of them talk before thinking, i think its very silly!!
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steddiealltheway · 2 months
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Something that is canon in my mind that I forget to tell people:
The reason why Steve can’t get bitches in his Scoops Ahoy era is because there’s a rumor going around that he’s gay (probably because someone caught him hooking up with Eddie)
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lovesickeros · 8 months
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☆ even the gods bleed
{☆} characters furina, neuvillette {☆} notes cult au, imposter au, multi-chapter, gender neutral reader {☆} warnings blood, injury, light angst {☆} word count 2.3k
What was justice?
Focalors had asked herself that question many times during the long nights she spends awake pouring over the prophecy of a dead God, words replaying in her mind like a broken record until the sun rose like a blooming flower.
She was the God of Justice, an Archon, yet she herself lacked the answer to such a simple and yet so very complex question.
How does one define what is just and what is not? How does she know that what she believes to be just is right? Is it justice if one being alone may sway the scales of justice on a whim? What justice is there to be found in the cold, watery grave that awaits her nation?
She does not know.
Perhaps she may never know.
What she does know, at least, is that this is not justice.
It is a mockery of it.
She stands before the bloodied, broken body like the judge, her sword held so tightly in her hand her fingers feel stiff, a dull ache adding to the weight of what she's seen. For a long, horrible moment she almost thinks they are dead – something she would have reveled in, only a day prior – before she sees the subtle rise and fall of their chest. Breathing, but barely.
The rain felt heavier upon her shoulders at the realization – she was not sure if it was in relief or horror.
Her nails dig into her palm, mind stuck somewhere between that abject horror and confusion so palpable she swore she could hear the gears in her head turning.
For a long, silent moment as she stares upon the body beneath the heavy rain..she wonders if this is how it all ends instead. If the world itself will simply crumple in on itself and cease – without its heart, it will wither, after all – long before the waters ever swallow her nation whole.
Because, try as she might to rationalize it, for every drop of rain that hits her like pins and needles, soaking her down to the bone..the body of the imposter is completely dry. Even the water pooling along the stones dares not to leave so much as a splotch against their ragged, torn clothes.
She remembers the meeting so very clearly, and she thinks she is a fool to not have noticed sooner – the Creator upon their gilded throne, finger pointed in accusation at the visage far too similar to their own. The imposter. She remembers the lilt of their voice as they called for their death as easily as one would speak of the weather – and to no one other then herself would she admit the spark of fear it had ignited within her. Because beneath the divine charade there was a sick enjoyment in the way they looked upon the imposter – like a bug beneath their shoe.
She understands, now.
She had thought that perhaps finally – finally – she could do right by her people, by her Creator, if she rid Teyvat of this..intrusion.
Now she sees herself as what it all really is – blind lambs following the herder.
Perhaps she would be considered a heretic under the eyes of the law – beneath the weight of justice, heavy as the heart that bears its sins. Perhaps this is a mistake, one she would come to regret.
But for now, she sheathes her blade with unsteady hands, the sound making her ears ring – for what she had almost done, what she had already done – as she stumbles like a newborn lamb towards the broken body of..
..What, exactly? Human? Divine? She is not so sure what to call them. Creator? No. The name is bitter upon her tongue, now, burning like liquid flame down her throat.
Where once she had spoken it in reverence and admiration, it felt hollow and empty, now.
Her vision wavers as she kneels down against the rain soaked stones, the rain upon her back growing heavier as she reaches a shaky hand forth – and for a moment, however brief, she feels the weight of expectation, of a title she fears she may never live up to, wash away with the waters that fall from the heavens.
The bruises and blood smeared across their skin are like strokes of a paintbrush, their body the canvas from which such horrid art is created. It makes her ill.
Doubt wavers her composure briefly – her position is already unsteady. She has never been seen as an equal to many of the other Archons. Her own people do not see her as their Archon, but an actor in a grand play that they shall simply toss aside and replace like a broken doll the moment she bores them.
What does she have left to lose?
She reaches out again, her hand settling onto their shoulder and turning them onto their back. She..isn't sure what to do, actually. She's never been particularly physically capable – she tended to avoid fights, even if she oft provoked them – and she was certainly no healer.
Yet what choice does she have but to march on anyway? She is in the heart of the city, it is far more dangerous here then anywhere else..she had little time to make her move.
Fontaine was, after all, a nation founded on the principle of justice. To know an injustice has been made against the most Divine..the entire nation was in a frenzy.
Her eyes dart around nervously, hands clasped tight on their shoulders and her lips drawn into a taut line – someone would notice her absence. One of the Archons would point out her absence in the coordination of the search.
Her options were just as limited as her time – she couldn't just take them out of the city. Security was tight, and as much as she fancied herself an escape artist – Neuvillette could hardly keep her in one place for too long – she doubted she could do the same with the limp body of the imposter in tow.
..The Palais Mermonia it was, then.
Her room had a secret entrance that few knew about, and even fewer would dare to traverse. She just..had to hide them there for a bit and hope Neuvillette wouldn't notice anything different.
Probably.
Still, there was the problem of actually..transporting the body. As grim as it sounded. Her only solace was the fact she didn't have to worry about them catching a cold, at least, and their breaths were still audible, if only barely. So she had to resort to some..unexpected methods.
Seeing the limp form of, well, the imposter – she'd really have to ask for something else to call them when they woke up – stuck in a bubble of hydro wasn't exactly on her bucket list.
Then again, neither was treason.
Well, first time for everything, right?
It wasn't breaking the law if no one else knew about it.
..Neuvillette didn't have to know about it, really. It was fine.
She could, of course, technically try to talk some sense into Neuvillette – he'd listen to her, right? She thought she was pretty close with him..but he was also the one person more obsessed with justice then she was. Such a stickler for the law..so maybe she's breaking a few, it's fine.
But he was also pretty devout, as much as he tried to keep his worship private – with Focalors around, nothing was really secret. Maybe she could get him to settle down long enough to prove it.
..How was she going to prove it?
An exaggerated groan escaped her lips as she led the bubbled imposter – she really wished she didn't have to resort to that, it would be a lot a more awkward to explain then dragging the body around – through the winding streets of Fontaine. She's just glad she's already memorized the entire city like the back of her hand..and a little dramatics went a long way. People listened when the Hydro Archon spoke, and she was suddenly very, very glad for that fact, even if they treated her more like a mascot then a God.
And partially because she, maybe, just a little..stole a few documents detailing the layout and a little personal exploration of her own – but what Neuvillette didn't know couldn't hurt him!
After what felt like hours, though was really no more then half an hour at best, she'd managed to drag herself – soaked to the bone with rain – and the conveniently bubbled imposter up through the secret entrance and into her room.
The perceived safety, as flimsy as it was, was..comforting. Until she heard the rustle of fabric, the clearing of a throat and the pop of a bubble as she, in her surprise, popped it – and then the thud of the imposter hitting the floor.
She felt a bit of regret about that part, at least, wincing.
"Lady Furina." His voice was as sharp and cool as she remembered it always being – like fresh spring water, she'd heard it described. Soothing. It did not feeling very soothing right about now.
She turned sharply on her heel, a forced smile tugging at her lips on reflex, every muscle in her body tensed – she probably looked like a wet cat right about now, soaked with rain, but that was the last thing on her mind.
"Do you mind explaining what, exactly, you did?" Not what you're doing, she notes – what she did. He was mad. Oh, she was really in for a scolding now. She twiddled her thumbs, laughing weakly, though it quickly dies out at the awkward, tense silence.
"Well, you see – it's rather complicated! I can– I can explain." Her attempts to diffuse are met with a raised brow and the sharp tap of his cane. Every single thought is plagued with the urge to run, but the unsteady breathes of the 'imposter' keep her rooted in place. "Well?"
She was sweating bullets, her nails digging into her palm as she scrambled for any excuse that could warrant her not getting hauled off and scolded thoroughly at best – she was coming up empty. How was she supposed to prove that the 'imposter' was very much not what the 'Creator' said they were? Their unconscious body was doing no one any favors, certainly.
"The Creator is lying," She blurts out, immediately regretting her impulsiveness when she feels the sudden weight of his stare – the piercing hues of his eyes that remind her just who is the strongest between them. It is not her, she knows. It never has been. "You can see for yourself! Don't you trust me, Neuvillette–?"
Her voice is cut off by the sharp click of his cane as he strides across the room in only a few steps, his height making her feel like a child about to scolded. She hated it, but she grit her teeth through the exchange. She reminded herself that this was for the sake of the 'imposter' and any affront to her ego was..tolerable.
To her credit, too, she didn't immediately lash out when she saw him poke at their body with his cane, turning them onto their back – she wanted too, though. She considered it, but the thought was quickly shot down when his stare turned back upon her, and she felt frozen in place again, her tongue a heavy weight in her mouth.
Yet she couldn't shake the sudden tenseness to his shoulders, his brows furrowed and a distant look to his eyes. It was..haunting, in a way.
She knows it well, she realizes. The realization and acceptance, the crumbling of every solid foundation you've ever known – leaving you to flounder in the waves, alone and afraid.
The gentleness in which he picks up the limp body surprises her though, his cane set aside. The rain howls like a horrid storm outside, but she cannot focus on anything but the furrow of their brows, the soft noise that escapes their lips.
"I trust that you know that this must stay between us," His voice is soft, like the gentle lap of waves against the shore, as he sets their body down against the bed, his hand lingering against their cheek with something almost like reverence – and if her eyes do not deceive her, affection. "Lady Furina."
She does not hesitate to agree.
"Well– well of course!" She huffs, crossing her arms over her chest and frowning at the feeling of her wet clothes clinging to her skin, a heavy weight that feels like it's dragging her down. "Just what do you take me for?"
He doesn't deign to respond.
It only makes her fume more.
Not that he seems to notice, unbuttoning his heavy outerwear and tossing it on the bed, rolling up his sleeves and focusing on the injured– er..yeah, she really needed a new name for them. Calling them imposter felt wrong.
"So long as you understand, then we will have no problems." She huffs again, pouting and puffing up her cheeks, sitting down on the other end of the bed with only an occasional glance towards him as he worked at peeling away the ragged clothes and examining the injuries marring their skin.
She suddenly felt out of place.
..What was she supposed to be doing?
As if noticing her sudden quietness, Neuvillette sighed, his back turned to her though his attention very much falling upon her. She really hated the feeling like she was being dissected whenever he looked at her. It was unnerving. She doesn't know how anyone else handles it..
"If you are so eager to do something, Lady Furina, then please have something brought up for when our..guest awakens. They will need to recover their strength."
Finally! Something she can do. She perks up, her heels clicking on the floorboards as she darts out like a bullet, unable to stay still for so much as a moment.
Neuvillette, for his part..
Feels an odd sense of serenity as he stares upon the troubled features of the..guest. A peace that lessens the burdens upon his shoulders, the weight of a nation upon his back.
He cannot hear the rain, anymore.
..It must have stopped.
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pseudonymphomania · 2 months
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Reverse Bunny: Lucifer
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DPxDC prompt
Team Phantom all have an inside joke where they refer to Dani as Danny’s daughter, while also calling Vlad an absentee mother who doesn’t pay child support.
Eventually Danny’s at the Justice league space station and hears some of the senior members talking about how the current Robin has attempted to stab a multiple people.
Danny curiously asks them about Robin and eventually they tell him he’s 11 and he just accidentally blurts out that his daughter’s around robins age.
The league members, stare at “eternally a teenager” Danny and go through mini existential crisis about the member that looks like a child having a child of their own. One of them asks if his daughter’s adopted and Danny says that she’s biologically his.
They ask about her mother or other parent and he says that if his daughters “mother” paid child support then he could have a say in things.
Eventually the conversation gets to Batman’s ears and he corners Phantom, not for learning sensitive information about Robin, but for parenting tips.
Now Danny’s giving Batman advice on how to treat/care for a surprise ex-assassin child with an absentee criminal “mother” who obsesses over their child’s father.
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yukiire · 5 months
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the hell marine festival event and power couple card still have my heart, shoulder and neck
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shootingstarrfish · 6 months
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asmo but the way he exists in my brain rn :D + an alt version below!
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stanharu · 1 month
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FINALLY SOME S3 NEWS!!!
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Quote from Orange Studio's Twitter:
BEASTARS IS BACK Coming 2024, 2 part final season will begin. The story of Legoshi transcends from school gates and ventures into the wild society- Only on Netflix
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sadlynotthevoid · 1 month
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Okey, but, I feel like og!Cale is the type of person that, if someone tried to make fun of him for a crush, he would be like "ah, yeah, that's true" and openly admit it.
So, og AlbeCale AU where whenever someone tries to mock Cale about liking Alberu or asks him about it, he downright says the truth. Regardless of who is hearing him.
As in, maybe once someone asks if Rok Soo and Cale are dating because they seem close (in part because they're kind of close, and in part because Cale keeps knowing what he is thinking, but they don't know that's just a Cale thing). And Rok Soo is like:
Rok Soo: Nah. This guy's type are baker princes.
Cale: You got it wrong. I don't like any princes who bake, I like Alberu only.
And Alberu, who was drinking tea on the background, suddenly chokes on his cup. Which they notice, of course.
"Oh. Hey, Al. Are you okay?"
—Totally unfazed for having Alberu heard the whole conversation.
He's so shameless about it and it's completely unintentional.
He has no idea of how people treat their crushes normally nor is interested on doing the same. He knows that some people tend to get shy, but a decade purposefully acting as trash killed most of his shame— Well, at least when it is about others' opinions of him—. If he wants to do something, being laughed at is not what's going to stop him.
And what he wants is to say how adorable he thinks Alberu is, so that's what he does.
Rejection? He isn't proposing anything. He doesn't plan on dating or wooing Alberu either. It's not that he wouldn't like it, it's just that it hasn't occurred to him that that's even an option. For him, who had spent years hearing everyone say the worst of him, the idea of someone wanting him by their side is so far away that it has yet to form.
So he keeps making casual comments about how cute Alberu is when he's confused, or "his hair looks so soft, I bet it feels that way too", or "he looks so handsome when he's tricking people. I like it more when he doesn't have to, tho", while everyone else feels embarrased for it. Except Rosalyn, she thinks it's hilarious.
Of course, he's pretty much respectful about it, never crossing the line to sexual harassment. And he would stop if Alberu told him too, but he doesn't. He kinda didn't realize that was an option at the beginning and, at this point, he got used and actually enjoys it a bit (a lot).
Cale: oh, sweets! They're my fifth favorite thing in this cruel world.
Rosalyn, fully knowing what she's doing: what are the other four?
Cale, carefully choicing which cake eat first: Well— *rising a finger per item* my family, animals, Alberu and wine. In that order.
Alberu: *frowns* I'm only third?
Cale, picking a chocolate tart: Mm? I loved animals since before meeting you and, at this point, is a part of myself. The other day I saw a dog and spent two hours squatting at her side without realize. It was not a conscious decision, it was... a soul impulse, let's say.
Alberu, looking at his thighs because damn, that's a lot of time to stay in that position: Oh. Wait, you've also loved wine since before meeting me.
Cale: Yes, but drinking wine is a choice. I can live happily without it. You would be... more difficult to leave.
Alberu: *processing* (that means— can't be happy without me aksjdjsj) "blushes hard*
Rosalyn, looking at Alberu's silly fuming face: (don't laugh don't laugh) Pff—
Cale: cherry pie? *Holds a mini pie in front of Alberu*
The turn tables when Alberu realizes that Cale doesn't have resistaince against genuine compliments. He never takes fake glibbery words seriously, but if someone says the slightliest good thing about him and they mean it, he'll become a mess. He just— doesn't know how to react when someone believes anything good about him.
So, Alberu starts complimenting him seriously— as reprisal, of course ("that's just flirting, nephew. You two are flirting, stop calling it vengeance"). Small but real things, details most people doesn't notice, deeper things that he deserves to hear (because, honestly, someone should tell him how sweet he is. How considerate he is. How much he should be appreciated because he's precious. And it seems Alberu is that someone). It works everytime.
Alberu calls his smile cute once and Cale stops talking. Face red and eyes avoiding everything, he can't pronounce a single word.
He calls him kind after Cale subtly helped a strange for no reason (he's obviously doing it in a way others wouldn't notice unless they knew what to look for. Alberu wonders if this is other "Cale thing"). Cale trips and almost gets discovered. When Alberu looks at his face, he's pouting.
Curiously, he doesn't have the same reaction when he gets called smart. He just smiles a bit and sometimes puffs his chest. Huh. Still adorable, tho.
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luxaofhesperides · 5 months
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Ghostlight!
"You came?" "You called."
Danny in trouble, Duke to the rescue! (Or it can be reversed!) Maybe they've been online friends or met in person once and bonded over both having all these unexpected powers. Slightly angst.
There was never a point when Danny thought he would need the panic button Duke gave him.
It was a sweet gesture, a way for Duke to show that he cared for Danny and wanted him to be safe. Never mind that Danny can take care of himself, heals quickly from most wounds, and has been the protector, not the protected, ever since the Accident. If it makes Duke feel better, than Danny was more than happy to keep it on him as a token of affection.
The cultists, however, caught him off guard. 
Danny would be embarrassed about being nabbed off the streets so easily if the people who took him weren’t cultists lead by the daughter of a GIW agent, one who disapproved of the scientific approach the GIW took towards ectoplasmic entities and had turned to mystic arts as a way to defy her father. Which, usually, Danny would be all for striking out against the strict expectations of parents and their unwillingness to listen to their kids in any serious manner, but not this time. Not when it ends with him slowly waking up after they chloroformed him, curled up in some magic circle, surrounded by black candles and blue flame, and something in the air that smells of blood blossoms.
There are voices speaking, but he can’t make out what they’re saying over the pounding in his head, his heartbeat stuttering in his chest with each gasping breath he takes. 
Whatever they’re doing, whatever’s got him bound in the circle, makes his blood feel like its been lit aflame, agony coursing through his veins. He tries to grit his teeth and bare it, but it doesn’t become any more manageable.
No, it gets worse the longer he’s awake.
Danny tries to move, tries to get to his feet, but all he can do is curl up tighter, a sob forcing its way out of his throat.
“I know you’ve got some connection to Phantom,” he hears someone say, both by his ear and so far away he can barely make out the words. Danny whines, trying to insist that they’re wrong, he’s got nothing to do with phantom, but the voice continues. “Come on, cooperate with us and this will end sooner for you. You can’t lie about this; you wouldn’t be feeling anything if there was no connection.” 
A hand brushes against his forehead, burning hot, and Danny turns his face towards the ground trying to move away from it. 
“I knew ghosts had to have some tie to the living world. And a living anchor would make the ghost stronger… If only dad would listen to me.” The voice sighs, and the words help him put the pieces together and realize this is the daughter of the GIW agent that came closest to finding him when he first ran to Gotham. 
It’s been close to a year since then. He thought they’d stopped looking. 
Really, he should have known better.
The hand leaves his forehead and he hears the leader bark out an order. Voices surround him, chanting, as they rise out of the dark. 
A red glow begins to fall on everything, enough that Danny can see it through his barely open eyes. A shudder runs through him, and he feels his transformation try to begin.
NO, he thinks desperately. He tries to force it down but it fights against him. It’s agony, pain on a molecular level, the feeling of dying over and over and over again.
NO, he thinks, STOP I DON’T WANT TO DIE SOMEONE PLEASE HELP ME.
And then, unbidden, a single word rising in his mind. Duke.
Duke will help him if he knows Danny needs help. Duke has been kind and welcoming and helped Danny find his footing in Gotham, never judging and always quietly offering a hand in support. He’s the person Danny’s closest to in Gotham, someone dear to him, a light in the dark. 
He gave Danny a panic button.
Contrary to popular thought, Danny isn’t an idiot. He knows Duke is the Signal. A few too many incidents where Duke had disappeared and the Signal appeared to save him tipped him off. It didn’t help that Duke acted the same in and out of costume, and he always, always grabbed Danny first at the elbow, then slid his hand down to his wrist. 
Besides, who else gives panic buttons to their friends? Danny would have done the same to Sam and Tucker if they weren’t always attached at the hip. He’s a (former) teenage vigilante too, he knows how being involved in this kind of thing invites trouble into the rest of his life.
Duke can help him. He’s a hero. He’s saved Danny before.
He’s his friend. Danny trusts (wants to trust, so badly) that Duke will help him even when he’s not fully human, fully alive.
With trembling hands, he reaches into his jacket, to the panic button. It’s a simple necklace with an unassuming metal rectangle dangling off of it. It’s flat and thin, but the top gives way to a button that Danny clicks three times in quick succession. 
He waits a moment, trying to breathe through the pain, and clicks it three times again.
Please hurry, Duke, he thinks, hand falling limply to the ground. 
“Let’s try this, instead,” the leader says, and the chanting falls to a quiet murmur to give way to her voice as she begins reciting something.
It starts at his feet. They cramp up suddenly, then pain crackles up his bones like lightning, digging deep into him. It feels as if a thousand knives dig into his abdomen, cutting in deep and twisting.
Danny chokes on his breath, then screams, trying futilely to scramble away. All it does is make him writhe on the ground, back arching enough that he can feel the strain of it on his spine, but it doesn’t matter because he’s forcing down his transformation again, smothering Phantom as much as he can.
His breath mists out before him. His fingers go numb, frost spreading across the floor.
Tears slip down his face as Danny pants for breath.
It hurts. It hurts like nothing has ever hurt before, but he refuses to give in. If they find out he’s Phantom, they’ll only do worse. 
Please, he thinks again, deliriously.
As if hearing him, a window shatters above him and the cultists break off in screams. 
Forcing his eyes open, Danny squints through he tears and watches as the shadows around them rise up, roiling, and crash against the cultists. The force of it knocks them down, leaving them to claw desperately at their faces as the shadows cover their nose and mouths, cutting off their air. The leader is yelling, rage clear in her voice, shooting out magic spells at the Signal.
The Signal is usually a friendly figure. He’s safe, something whose meer presence makes people feel safe. His smile means everything’s alright and when it’s directed to Danny, he feels like nothing bad can ever happen to him again.
The Signal isn’t smiling now. 
He’s furious, expressionless and stone cold, bashing away the spells with shadows or light, advancing on the leader like an avenging angel come to deliver justice. 
He takes her out with hard hits, striking methodically. It’s not quick. She doesn’t get the kindness of being knocked out; no, he snaps a wrist, breaks her nose, slams her down on the ground and cuts off her air with a knee until her struggles die off and she’s left limp on the floor. 
When he rises, surrounded by shadows still moving restlessly, illuminated only by the flicker blue flames of the candles, he should look terrifying. 
All Danny feels is relief so sharp it worries him that his chest was cleaved in half without him noticing until now. He shivers against the floor, too weak to reach out to the Signal.
It’s a good thing he doesn’t have to. 
The Signal picks him up with careful hands, checking him over for injuries.
“Duke,” Danny murmurs, slurring a bit. The torture is definitely at fault for it, but the sudden absence of all that pain doesn’t help him sound any more coherent. “You came.”
“You called,” Duke says, “Of course I came. I’ve been looking for you for hours. You never showed up for our study date and I know you always try to reach out if you can’t make it. I’m just sorry I didn’t find you sooner.”
“S’okay, ‘m not mad. Was scared, but you made it better. The panic button…”
“It’s how I found you. I’m so glad you were wearing it today.”
Danny tries to smile, but the most he can manage is a twitch of his lips before his head tips forward to rest against Duke’s armored shoulder. “I always wear it.”
Duke’s grip on him tightens for a moment, then he begins walking, taking Danny away from the magic circles and the prone bodies of the cultists who had watched him be tortured and decided to keep going. Danny shudders again, his entire body aching. His transformation is still fighting to come out, but it’s not as strong anymore. 
“Let’s get out of here,” Duke says into his ear. “I’ll take you to the hospital.”
“No! No hospitals, please. I can’t let them know… they’ll find me…”
Duke shushes him soothingly, tucking him more securely against his chest. “Alright, Danny. No hospitals. But I am going to call Batman for a pick up to get you to one of the people we trust for medical care.”
“But Batman doesn’t work in the day.” Danny’s too exhausted to sound confused, but it must go through anyways. Duke laughs lowly, and the sound helps unwind the last of his nerves coiled up tight in fear. 
“Danny, it’s well into the night. You were gone for hours. Longest hours of my life.”
“Sorry,” he mumbles, 
“Don’t be, it’s not your fault. Hang on, Batman’s nearly here.”
In any other circumstance, Danny would be excited to meet another hero. Especially Batman, one of the original heroes of the modern age. But all he wants is to go somewhere safe so he can curl up and cry, then sleep for three days before he pretends to be a normal human again. Ideally, he’d stay with Duke until he felt safe again, but he doesn’t want to take Duke away from the city that needs him.
His ears perk up a bit when he hears the smooth rumble of an engine stop in front of them. A door opens with a click without Duke needing to grab the handle, and then Danny is carefully being deposited in the back seat.
“Wait,” he says, trying to grab for Duke’s arm only to have his fingers fumble and grab nothing. Duke doesn’t move away, though, and instead grabs Danny’s seeking hand. “Stay? Please? I just—” his voice shudders, cracks, fractures apart. “I just want to feel safe.”
There’s a pause, a stillness in the air, before Duke says, “Okay. I’ll stay.” And then he’s sliding into the backseat, pulling Danny in to lean against him, curl into his embrace.
“Signal,” Batman’s low, gravelly voice says. There’s something in his tone that makes Danny tense up, prepared to take off, and his transformation pushes at his skin, ready to come out.
“He knows who I am, B,” Duke replies. “He’s trustworthy. Besides, just because he knows me doesn’t mean he knows you.”
“We will be discussing this later,” Batman says, dark promise in his voice. It’s just how he talks, Danny’s sure, too used to years of making himself the scariest thing in the dark. That doesn’t change the fact that Batman can be terrifying, and Danny can’t imagine he’ll take kindly to the fact that Danny knows Duke’s identity.
Fear slithers up his spine, and he can’t stop the transformation this time. The rings of white light flash over his body in a second, leaving Phantom in his place. 
Danny lets go of his legs first, glad to be free from their aching weight, and without a body made of flesh and bone, the hurt begins to fade away until it’s just an unpleasant memory. 
“What—” Duke starts to say just as Batman says, “Signal—”
They must have some sort of silent exchange. There’s only a heavy tension in the car and the barely audible rumble of the engine as they drive towards their destination, whatever it may be. Danny sinks into Duke some more, sighing in relief as a hand comes up to card through his wispy white hair. 
“Danny,” Duke says, “What’s this?”
“It’s why they hurt me,” he mumbles against Duke’s chest. “It’s why they keep hunting me down. I want them to leave me alone. I’m tired.”
Embarrassingly, his voice cracks on the last word and more tears fall down his cheeks. He hears Duke move, and then hands, bare and gloveless, wipe his tears away with a gentleness that makes his heart ache.
“They won’t be able to hurt you again. You’ll be safe from now on, Danny, I swear it.”
“S’okay if I get hurt,” he says, “It always happens. Promise to save me if this happens again?”
“I’ll do whatever I can to make sure it doesn’t happen again. But if it does, then I promise to always save you. I gave you that panic button, didn’t I? As long as you keep it, I’ll always find you.”
“You’re a good person, Duke,” Danny says, voice falling quieter as his exhaustion catches up to him. “I’m glad I met you.”
He thinks he feels a soft touch to the top of his head. A kiss, maybe, though it’s not likely. But he wants comfort, and he’s endured a lot a pain so he allows himself to hope and be delusional. With the warm that spreads through him from Duke’s soft kiss to his head, Danny gives in to the siren call of slumber.
“Get some sleep, Danny,” Duke says, voice hushed. “I’ll stay with you as long as you need.”
I know, he doesn’t say, too tired to open his mouth again, You’re always here. Thank you, thank you, thank you.
He falls asleep easily after that. There’s nothing in the world that can hurt him while he’s in Duke’s arms. He’s never been safer.
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haunted-xander · 2 months
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Very excited to see how they'll do this scene in Rebirth
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introspectivememories · 11 months
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BERNARD GETS THE MARINA IN THE DIVORCE CANON!!!
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yashley · 10 months
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"Auggie, how do you get stitched up and refreshed?" "I am going to go over to Arlo’s house."
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