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luxaofhesperides · 4 months

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Could i request a ghostlight where danny can turn into a dragon, it could be though a curse or just training from queen dora?

Like dragon Danny seeing the yellow signal outfit and thinking "mmmmm gold, shiny, must take".

He should probably be more worried about being cursed.

Scratch that, he should definitely be more worried about being cursed. However, it wasn’t done intentionally or in bad faith. This is just the consequences of him, Sam, and Tucker fucking around and finding out when left unsupervised with the grimoire of a long dead witch.

In their defense, they didn’t know Tucker could use magic. This revelation both upset Tucker, who refused to be swayed from tech, and Sam, who thought she was a better fit for magic considering how goth she is. Danny hadn’t really cared, since he was too busy being turned into a dragon. At least it isn’t like with Dora’s necklace; Danny is still himself, can think clearly, and isn’t overcome by rage.

He’s just… Danny. But as a dragon.

“Well, you do something to fix him then!” Tucker shouts, waving a hand in the air angrily, “Since you want to be so good at magic, you do it then!”

“I would if I could! But you’re the one who gets to use magic, so figure it out and turn Danny back!” Sam shouts back, getting in Tucker’s face with a fierce scowl.

Danny sighs, shifting uncomfortably. His room is not big enough for a dragon, and his back is starting to cramp up. He looks longingly out the window to the clear skies that call to him, and wonders when his friends will stop fighting.

They keep shouting, so he doubts they’ll be able to focus on actually helping him for at least another hour.

The only silver lining about the situation is that Jazz and his parents are gone, taking the weekend to visit a few colleges so Jazz can decide which one she wants to go to. Though he’s been cursed into dragon form and his friends are yelling about it, at least his family can’t make it any worse with their attempts to ‘fix’ things.

There’s a lull in the yelling, Sam and Tucker both turning their attention back to the grimoire. Danny shifts his wings, tail flicking slightly, and leans his head closer. He wishes he could help figure this out, but he can’t talk in this form, and any attempt at charades will destroy his room.

His friends look focused, at least. So maybe they’ve decided to focus on finding solutions instead of fighting.

“Here,” Sam says, shoving the grimoire over to Tucker roughly. “Try that.”

Tucker reads over the spell, then scoffs and pushes the grimoire back. “That’s not going to fix anything. Didn’t you read it? It clearly says truth is the greatest revenge, revealing one’s true form force it into light. It’s talking about making people who are secretly cruel turn ugly or something like that! It’s not going to do anything for Danny!”

“It says one’s true form and Danny’s is a human! That would work!”

And they go right back to arguing.

Danny sighs, turning to stare out the window again.

In any other circumstance, being a dragon would be so fun. He has wings! He’s big and has claws and can probably breathe fire! And it’s not making him act on animal instincts or anything! If he could just be outside…

He glances at Sam and Tucker again.

Maybe he can go outside, enjoy the curse a bit before they figure out a way to undo it. Spend some time flying around with wings.

All the curse did was turn him into a dragon. It just changed his form. If he still has his ghost powers, if the curse didn’t change his nature from halfa to dragon…

Carefully, Danny focuses on his tail and tries to make it intangible. There’s a strange sensation of ice running down his spine, then it goes into his tail. In the next second, his tail drops through the floor, and Danny bites down a grin.

He is so out of here.

He gives Sam and Tucker another glance; they’ve got their heads bent over the grimoire, paying no attention to him.

Perfect.

Danny goes fully intangible and sinks through the floor of his bedroom, then maneuvers his way outside the house. As soon as he’s out, standing beneath the sunlight and able to stretch out his new body, Danny pulls his power back and takes a few careful steps on the grass, testing his balance. His wings shift on his back, and he stretches them out, feeling the way his new limbs move.

Everything feels natural, as if he’s always been a dragon.

Taking a deep breath, Danny spreads his wings out and takes off running. A few hard pumps of his wings gets him into the air, and he can’t help but let out a joyful roar.

Distantly, he hears Tucker and Sam yelling again, but he’s too happy to be free of that room to care. Let them argue. He wants to have fun.

Staying in Amity Park is a no go; Val might go after him, thinking he’s a threat, and ghosts could pop out at any time to cause problems. He might as well take this chance to fly around wherever he wants. Chicago wouldn’t be too hard to reach with how fast he’s flying, but he’s been there before and doesn’t want to stay in Illinois.

What other big city is nearby that he can fly to?

New York?

Or, better yet, Gotham.

It’s definitely a bad idea, but if any city is able to handle a dragon appearing without warning, it would be Gotham. Plus, he might get to see some of the heroes in action! Sure, it’s the middle of the day, but surely a dragon is a good enough reason for Batman to show up before the sun sets.

Mind made up, Danny flies up into the clouds and heads towards Gotham, following the roads out of Amity Park.

The flight is quick. It takes barely over an hour to see the dark figures of Gotham’s tallest buildings, fog surrounding the city like something out of a horror movie. The sun glints off the ocean behind the city for a rare, cloudless day. He’s heard stories about Gotham’s weather, how dreary it is, the occasional acid rain, the gloominess of it all. As bad as his luck is, it seems that the sunny day is trying to give him something good to even it out after being cursed into a dragon.

Excited, Danny angles himself down, diving out of the lower clouds and shifts his wings to catch on a wind current that smoothly sends him towards the city.

Just to be careful, he goes invisible as he gets closer, staying out of sight once he enters the city proper.

Noise overwhelms him immediately, cars honking and voices yelling, the occasional gunshot and sound of something breaking. It makes Danny wince, disoriented enough to make him falter as he flies above the streets.

Amity Park is quiet and peaceful in comparison, so much so that he hadn’t realized just how enhanced his senses had become in a dragon’s form.

The sounds of everything are so much, and all the movement of such a big city is dizzying. At least he can’t smell anything but salt from the sea; if he had to deal with the constant smell of blood, guts, and sewage, he would find a way to fully die to get away from it.

He slows down to a smooth glide, weaving his way between buildings as he takes in the city. Even with the sun out, it’s gloomy, the tall buildings casting shadows across the streets, a mix of art deco and gothic architecture filling up the space. He wonders if he should find some place up high he can rest, maybe bathe in the sun for a bit until he felt like moving again. If he managed to fall asleep, that might give Sam and Tucker enough time to figure out how to undo the curse.

“Ow! Shit, that hurts.”

Or he indulge in his curiosity and check up on whoever just cursed loud enough to be heard over the ambient noise of Gotham.

It takes a minute of searching before Danny’s eyes zero in on a bright flash of yellow moving across rooftops.

All other colors seem dull in comparison, and Danny has just enough time to think, Oh, there’s the dragon instincts taking over, before he’s flying after it, unable to focus on anything else.

Every time the yellow leaps out of the shadows, it’s as if it glows. As if Danny’s chasing sunlight.

He gets close, but loses the yellow every so often with how he has to maneuver around buildings, putting his new flying abilities to the test in an effort to keep up.

Then the yellow comes to an abrupt stop. Danny can’t stop in time and flies past it, tilting his body and spreading out his wides as far as he can to make a tight turn.

“I’m fine, just bruised up, but I feel like I’m being followed,” the yellow says to no one. There’s a pause, and then the yellow says, “I don’t see anything, is the thing.”

If the yellow has anything more to say, it doesn’t get the chance to do more than open its mouth before Danny’s crashing into it, tackling it to the ground.

He’s elated as they roll across the roof, the living sunlight caught safe in his arms. He holds it close to his chest, protecting it until they come to a stop, dropping his invisibility as a low rumble builds in the back of his throat. The dragon brain has thoroughly taken over, and it takes far too long to wrestle control back from it.

Once he’s able to think more clearly, Danny looks down at the poor guy he’s caught and realizes, hey that’s a hero!

And then he realizes, that’s a hero. I fucked up.

He tries to say sorry, but all that comes out is a low chuff. The hero, who he can recognize as the Signal because who else wears mostly yellow in Gotham, leans back as much as he can, trapped in Danny’s grasp.

“Hey, dragon,” Signal says nervously. “I’m really hoping you didn’t catch me because you were looking for a snack.”

Danny huffs, bumping his head against Signal’s chest. He hopes he doesn’t come across as aggressive, because all he wants to do is laze around with a hero, his dragon brain happy to keep hold of its yellow sunshine.

He’s not going to let go of Signal, though. He intends to make the most of this moment while he can.

“Okay. You seem friendly? That’s good I guess.” Signal sighs, then tries to wiggle out of Danny’s grip. Danny doesn’t budge until Signal gasps and curls into himself, clearly in pain.

Worried, Danny lets go of him and tries to see what’s wrong, his snout poking against the Signal’s ribs.

The Signal hisses out a breath, trying to push Danny away. “Stop, don’t do that. Man, I hope my ribs aren’t broken. That would suck.”

That would suck. Rib injuries are the worst, and the bruises always seem to stay longer on ribs than anywhere else, in Danny’s experience. He would love to offer the Signal some ice, but as a dragon, he’s not sure how to use that particular power. He settles instead for backing off and making himself small, offering an apologetic rumble.

“Thanks,” Signal smiles, gingerly uncurling from where he’s hunched over, an arm crossing his stomach, protecting it. “I guess you’re friendly, then?”

Danny nods.

“...And you can understand me?”

Danny nods harder, a high pitched growl slipping out of his mouth.

“That’s so cool. What are you doing here in Gotham?”

It’s not a yes or no question, so Danny’s stuck on how to answer when words are so far out of reach. He shrugs, wings shifting against his back, then carefully bumps his head against the Signal’s helmet.

“Yeah, that was a bad question. Do you need help?”

Danny scrunches up his nose as he thinks. He is cursed, but so far, being a dragon isn’t all that bad. It sucks that he can’t talk, but everything else is cool! He just doesn’t want to be a dragon forever. But it’s nothing the Signal can help with, so Danny just shrugs again.

The Signal tilts his head. “Alright. I guess I’ll get going then, and you can chill up here.”

The low growl comes suddenly, without him even thinking, and Danny wraps himself around the hero again. Distantly, he thinks that he should stop, that this is technically holding the Signal in place against his will, but the much louder, dragon part of him is deeply upset by the thought of the Signal leaving while he’s injured. Danny can protect him, so there’s no need for him to go anywhere! In fact, he’s only safe as long as he’s with Danny!

He leans more of his weight onto the Signal until they both fall back onto the roof, pinning the hero in place.

Danny tries to be gentle, but the impact still makes Signal groan, tensing up in pain.

Sorry, he tries to say, the words coming out in a low chuffing noise. He draws his tail up to curl around the Signal so he’s completely surrounded by Danny, kept safe from anything that would try to attack him.

Letting out a breath, the Signal lightly knocks his head against Danny’s neck, the helmet barely felt through Danny’s scales. “Alright, Oracle, can you send someone to my location? I’m a bit stuck.”

It’s hard to hear, but Danny manages to make out a voice saying, “Black Bat is heading there now. What’s wrong?”

“I’m a bit stuck.”

“Injured?”

“Just my ribs, but that’s not really the problem. There’s a dragon who’s very determined to keep me on this roof.”

“A dragon,” the voice repeats.

“Yeah. It seems to like me? But it’s also not letting me leave. So. I’m stuck.”

There’s a pause, then a soft burst of static before the voice says, “I’m going to send a message to everyone else just in case they’re able to provide any back up. I’m sure Tim is looking for an excuse to ditch Bruce at that accounting meeting.”

“Guess I’ll just wait to be rescued, then,” Signal says, sighing. Then he tilts his head up to look at Danny. “Is there some way you could talk to me? To pass the time. Maybe morse code? Do you know what that is?”

Dragon brain makes him stupid, apparently, because Danny does know morse code. He didn’t even think of alternative ways of communication once he discovered talking was impossible with his new vocal chords.

It’s probably not even dragon brain. It’s just Danny brain that makes him like this.

Embarrassed, Danny drops his head onto the roof, drawing his tail closer to himself so it can cover his eyes, his best attempt at hiding his face. Then, with one sharp claw, he taps out Y.E.S.

“Oh! So, what’s up?”

N.O.T. D.RA.G.O.N. H.U.M.A.N. G.O.T. C.U.R.S.E.D.

“Why did you say you didn’t need help if you got cursed?!”

Danny wants to say it was an accident, but has no confidence that he can spell ‘accident’ correctly, so he goes with F.R.I.E.N.D. M.A.D.E. M.I.S.T.A.K.E.

“And can they fix it?”

I.D.K. T.H.E.Y. W.E.R.E. F.I.G.H.T.I.N.G. Danny huffs out a breath, flicking his tail in annoyance as he uncurls slightly, giving Signal some more breathing space. He doesn’t look as stressed out anymore, which is nice, but he still holds his ribs tenderly, careful not to move too much. G.O.T. B.O.R.E.D. L.E.F.T.

The Signal taps his own fingers against the roof, thinking after he takes in Danny’s words. “Do you think we can call them and see if they know how to fix it? I doubt you want to be a dragon forever.”

N.O. P.H.O.N.E.

“It’s cool, we can use mine.” And he pulls out a cell phone from… somewhere. Danny has no idea where. It’s like he blinked, and a phone suddenly appeared. His hero suit probably has a lot of hidden compartments and pockets to hold as much stuff as possible, but it’s so well designed that Danny can’t begin to think of where he’d put anything. Especially when his dragon brain keeps getting distracted by how nice the yellow is.

Danny taps out Tucker’s number when Signal asks for it, watching as the call connects and is put on speaker.

“Hello?” Tucker’s voice says, hesitant and a little distracted.

“Hi,” Signal responds with a mischievous smile, “Do you happen to be missing a dragon? Cause I’ve got one here who’s hoping he can get a little help from a friend.”

Danny hears something clatter on Tucker’s end, then Tucker starts yelling for Sam. He’s not quite able to bite back his laughter, entire body shaking with it. The Signal keeps his composure better, but he does share a glance with Danny that has him biting his lip, trying to keep his smile from growing.

“Where is he?!” Tucker demands, and for a moment Danny feels ashamed of how much stress he’s putting his best friends through. And then he remembers them fighting nonstop while ignoring him and doesn’t feel bad at all.

“Gotham.”

“...Gotham,” Sam repeats. Her voice is flat in the way it always gets before she verbally (and sometimes physically) tears someone apart. Danny winces hard enough that it jostles the Signal, making him glance back at Danny.

“Yeah. Gotham. He said he was cursed?”

Sam sighs heavily. “Yeah. Not my fault. It is Tucker’s fault, though.”

“I think I found the solution though! And also, it was an accident. You were the one who wanted to read the grimoire.”

He can tell they’re gearing up for another fight, so Danny lowers his face closer to the phone and lets loose a dark growl. It shuts them right up, and he briefly wonders about learning how to growl like that as a human, since it’s so effective.

Tucker clears his throat, and continues as if nothing happened. “Anyways. The cure. The thing that will make Danny stop being cursed.”

There’s another long pause.

“The cure…?” Signal prompts.

“Kisses.”

“Sorry, what?”

“It’s kisses.”

“Like… true love’s kiss?”

Danny hopes it’s not true love’s kiss. If it is, he’s never going to be human again. Who would his true love even be? As much as he liked Valerie, that ships sailed long ago. And he loves Sam and Tucker, but not quite like that.

“No. Thankfully,” Sam says. “Just kisses. What matters is the amount, not the person it’s from. So whoever you are, we’re gonna need you to be giving Danny as many kisses as possible until he’s human again. We’re also on our way to Gotham now. Johnny’s offered us a ride.”

On cue, an engine revs loudly.

“We’ll be there soon!” Tucker shouts over the engine, and the call ends just a second later.

Danny huffs, shaking his head lightly.

“Interesting friends you got there,” Signal comments idly.

Y.E.S. Danny taps out. L.O.V.E. T.H.E.M.

The Signal sits up and moves away from Danny, who has to stomp down the urge to curl around the hero tighter to keep him in place. He stands up, putting his phone away, and looks over Danny. His gaze feels like a physical weight, moving from his face, and the horns on his head, to the scales covering him, to his wings and tail.

His tails flicks back and forth nervously. Danny can’t get it to stop.

“Dragon,” someone new says, startling Danny. He spots the newcomer immediately, a lithe figure in all black perched on the ledge of the roof. Her voice is rough and he can’t see her face at all, fully covered as it is in her mask.

This must be Black Bat. He doesn’t know much about her; no one does, with how she’s managed to avoid being photographed and how rarely she is seen by anyone at all. He honestly wasn’t sure if she was real or not, but here she is.

“Hey,” Signal greets easily, “We need to kiss him better.”

Black Bat tilts her head. “Kiss… dragon?”

“He’s cursed. And kisses will fix him. Not true love’s kiss, but just a lot of kisses.”

“True love’s kiss?” she repeats.

“Oh, shit. I guess you haven’t read any fairy tales?” Black Bat shakes her head, and Danny wonders how she’s managed to avoid all fairy tales for so long. They’re usually among the first stories children are exposed to. “Yeah, in a lot of those stories, a curse can only be broken from a kiss by someone by love.”

Black Bat nods slowly, and it’s clear she doesn’t really understand, but she does hop off the ledge and walk over to Danny. She pulls up her mask to reveal her mouth, then looks to the Signal for guidance.

“Like this,” Signal says, then leans over and presses a soft kiss to Danny’s cheek.

If he were human, Danny would be blushing madly. As it is, he has to force himself to stay still and not hide his face in his hands, claws and all, from how flustered he is.

Black Bat follows in suit, dropping a delicate kiss to the top of his head.

Danny loses track of how many kisses he gets, all over his face, beyond flustered by the amount of affection two heroes are showering him in. It’s just to break the curse, but it’s still a lot of kisses!

Signal kisses the tip of his nose, and there’s a flash of light. Danny feels himself change, growing smaller, his human softness returning to him. It’s barely a few seconds, and then Danny’s human again, sitting on the roof with the Signal and Black Bat standing over him.

They blink at each other for a long moment, then Black Bat smiles and pats the top of his head.

Danny smiles. He knows his cheeks are red, can feel how hot they are himself, and ducks his head, too embarrassed to look at either of them.

“How are you feeling?” Signal asks, crouching down to be eye level with Danny.

He tries to answer, but all that comes out is a hoarse rasp. He winces and brings a hand up to his throat, then shrugs and gives the Signal a thumbs up.

He clears his throat. This time, he manages to whisper, “Thank you.”

Black Bat gives him a cheerful wave, then hops back onto the ledge and jumps off. Signal barely takes his eyes off Danny enough to give her a nod goodbye. He reaches out and brushes Danny’s hair off his forehead some before his fingers trail down the side of his face.

“I’ll admit, you looked cool as a dragon,” Signal says, “But you’re much cuter like this.”

Danny gives in and hides his face in his hands. The Signal laughs, warm and bright, and kisses his forehead.

“Come on, let’s make sure your friends can find you.”

“They’re going to be so annoying about this,” Danny mutters.

“It’s how friends show affection.”

“Seriously, though, thank you. I know being tackled by a dragon isn’t what anyone expects. Did I hurt you? Your ribs…”

The Signal shrugs. “Nah. I’m all good. Just a little bruised, but it’ll heal quickly enough. Though, you’re more than welcome to give me a kiss to help me feel better.”

Danny shoves him lightly for the teasing, but he does pull the Signal back for a quick kiss on the corner of his mouth.

It’s only fair, after all.

#ghostlights #dc x dp #dp x dc #dcxdp #dpxdc #dc x dp fic #prompt fill #my writing #this was supposed to be written last week... cries. work killed me but ghostlights is bringing me back to life #with a bonus cass!! i love cass in case u couldnt tell #duke is gonna roll up at the cave for evening training. have people insist he ice his ribs after they see the bruising #and he'll say 'no its fine a dragon kissed it better' and not elaborate #everyone has questions but damian is the only one upset that HE wasnt called to help the dragon when they know he's good w goliath #this doesnt change even after duke tells them the dragon was a cursed boy who is now human again #damian is lowkey wondering if he can find tucker to also be turned into a dragon. just for fun.#it'll give duke an excuse to see danny again so obv hes gonna say yes.#meet cute? no. meet DRAGON

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shadebloopnik · 1 month

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Unrequited/One-sided Radioapple but it isn't treated like an angsty end of the world thing.

Imagine they slowly get closer after all the banters, and eventually becoming close friends. Lucifer ends up catching feelings for him, and after a long while, decides to confess and ask Alastor if he felt the same.

Alastor admittedly does not feel the same.

He's getting uncomfortable, struggling to keep his composure because he's DONE this before. He KNOWS how this ends. He remembers Vox and all his insistent declarations of affection and desperate pleas for Alastor to reciprocate; the possessive entitlement. He remembers how all those sickly sweet words morphed into something venomous when he didn't give the lowlife what he wanted. He remembers the anger, the ridiculous notion that it was Alastor's fault why he was so mad, that Alastor led him on and that he obviously deserved something in payment for it all-

So yes, Alastor knows how this ends.

It doesn't mean he isn't disappointed though, because he actually LIKES Lucifer, far more than he ever did Vox. Perhaps not in the way the king might have wanted, but he did. He treasured their little talks, their drinking sessions, their shared love for their instruments, Lucifers singing, their little duets, the banter, the playful jabs, the sparring.

He'd even slowly grown accustomed to the other's touches, not feeling the same surge of disgust and discomfort whenever the shorter man would grab at his arm in excitement, forgetting his usual thoughtfulness of Alastor's touch aversion for the short moment of whatever distracted him. Alastor even enjoyed it at times, relaxing at the feel of soft feathers beneath his claws, or the sensation of gentle scratches against his ears.

Difficult as it was to admit, Alastor had grown to care for the angel, the same way he had for Rosie orv Mimzy.

But no matter how fond Alastor was of Lucifer, it didn't change the fact that he didn't feel the same way romantically, or even sexually. No way in the 7 rings of Hell was he going to lie to Lucifer about either, not going to even entertain the idea of pretending he reciprocated for Lucifer's sake. He respected his friend too much for that.

So a clear, direct rejection it is. It was a shame, but nothing could be done. He said his piece concisely, and waited, shoulders set, back straight, smile and eyes a careful blank canvas as he prepared for the inevitable.

Lucifer nodded, a normal soft smile still in place, "Thank you for your answer, it means a lot."

Which......what? Alastor expected an outburst, or at the very least sharp words.

What he did NOT expect was....acceptance? And not just that but, a happy one? Contentment?????

"You're....alright with that?", he had to ask, he had to. Lucifer was clearly just very good at masking his upset.

But the damn angel just smiled?? And it didn't even look fake, just as bright and soft as his normal smiles, albeit a little confused?? Lucifer smiled at him, his brows furrowing in a bit of confused disbelief, as though Alastor is being the weird one here.

"Uhh, yeah??? Why wouldn't I be??? Yeah I may have some feelings for you but its not like you're obligated to feel the same. Above anything else, we're friends first and foremost and i'm alright with that..."

Then he seemed to have reached his own little conclusion as his words trailed off, because suddenly Lucifer's eyes widened in realization of something, and his words picking up with a sense of panicked urgency.

Alastor would really like to know what Lucifer's supposed realization was about himself because he had absolutely no clue.

"I mean, we ARE still friends right?? I don't- I- I hope this doesn't like- change your opinion of me. You're not- oh gosh I'm not making you uncomfortable am I? I- I won't mention it! You can even forget this whole confession ever happened! We can just go on as before! I don't feel any different or would act any different! Honest! I mean, I don't regret confessing because you deserve to know and I'm not ashamed of my feelings, but I don't want you to be uncomfortable! It doesn't change the way i'll treat you! Or change any aspect of our relationship! I don't even think I like you more as a lover than as a friend! I really, really do love our friendship, it matters more to me than any thoughts of being in a romantic relationship with you! So please just forget it all-"

Alastor let the word vomit wash over him, every word leaving him more confused by the minute.

Because yes, there's the desperation he expected, but...it was more about, convincing Alastor to remain friends?? Reassuring Alastor that nothing has to change?? That their friendship is the most important thing here??

(If anyone asks, no Alastor's heart didn't swell. Only lesser beings would have had the urge to cry, and Alastor is anything but.)

Lucifer is unknowingly reassuring Alastor of every single one of his insecurities about the situation. Because Alastor DID want to remain friends, he cared too much about the man to let it go so easily. It was rare to find people who treasure friendships above romantic relationships.

"I don't tend to forget easily, nor will I forget this one in particular.", he spoke, finally finding his voice. At Lucifer's defeated, pained expression( is their friendship really that important to him?), he continued. "But....yes. I'd like that.. To remain...friends."

He didn't often say the word out loud, being comfortable enough with each other that it need not be reassured with the label. But with Lucifer brightening up like his namesake, relief and happiness palpable, Alastor felt no qualms at declaring their friendship out loud.

So life went on as usual. True to his word, Lucifer remained basically the same. The following weeks were a bit stilted for Alastor, as he put some rather painful distance between him and the angel; limiting their interactions, their usual touches.

Anytime now, Lucifer would break and show his true colors, Alastor would think, waiting for the boot to drop. Lucifer would end up angry, and dissatisfied, and that was that.

But it never happened. Lucifer never expressed discomfort when Alastor avoided him, seeming to be understanding of the others need for space. He was just as affectionate as before, though initially a bit held back, as though gauging Alastor's comfort.

Months would pass, and the king never faltered. Their friendship remained strong, if not growing ever closer than before. Alastor found himself even growing more comfortable with the man. Affectionate touches were becoming common, hugs and head pats and cuddles being a welcome thing, with the reassurance that the shorter king would never disrespect his boundaries.

Lucifer seemed genuinely happy about it, despite being clearly told that none of Alastor's actions hinted at anything romantic. In fact, he seemed ecstatic that Alastor was getting more affectionate towards him as a friend. The embarrassment the radio demon felt at having Lucifer basically tear up (no really, he was crying so hard, full on drama sobbing) with joy in front of him was intertwined with the sheer incredulous fondness he felt for the man at that moment.

They were sitting at a couch one night, more than a year passing since that confession. Lucifer was leaning back, resting against the cushions, while Alastor had his head on the smaller one's shoulder, nuzzling at the crook of his neck, legs tucked close to his body. Both had a book in hand, two nearly empty cups of tea on the table in front of them. Every so often, Lucifer would flex his fingers that rested on Alastor's head, running a digit against the other's ear, often prompting the demon to lean into the touch. White wings enveloped the two, blanketing them against the chill of the night.

As Alastor turned the page of his own book, relaxing into the touch of his dearest friend, he wondered how he ever got so lucky in hell.

#this may have gotten away from me lmao #this was supposed to be a rlly short prompt of 'Unrequited love but overbrimming friendship' but instead i typed out this word vomit-#i don't know if im labeling things right here??? this may not look platonic tk others but ig im sort of projecting here #bc i want friendships like this soo badd. i mean this is still platonic right??? this is normal friendship behavior like come onnn #I've been teased about being ace bc of this mindset but i always just go RIGHT this is how friendship works y'all blind😭😭😭#bloopnik writing #bloopnik rambles #radioapple #appleradio #platonic radioapple #platonic relationships #aroace alastor #alastor hazbin hotel #alastor hazbin #hazbin hotel alastor #hazbin alastor #alastor #duckiedeer #unrequited feelings #BUT NOT UNREQUITED LOVE HELL YEA #one sided radiostatic #lucifer morningstar #hazbin hotel #THEY LOVE EACH OTHER SO MUCH AND ITS BEAUTIFUL #queerplatonic #i think #fic #fanfic #radiosilence

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pxme-granate · 2 months

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#morrigan crow #cadence blackburn #nevermoor #mordence #is that the ship name?#id in alt #i went back to fill in some of the mogtober prompts i didn’t do #this was supposed to be hobby but it turned into an ‘i gave them jobs <3’ au #so behold. tattoo artist cadence and florist mog #also it ended up matching with a femslash february prompt ‘dahlia’!#i take wins where i can get them #i made this because of a fic i planned to write #i’ll do it someday

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ninyard · 16 days

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"if you can't figure it out by now, then i don't have anything else to tell you."

This would be perfect for Andrew to say to Neil

“If you can’t figure it out by now, then I don’t have anything else to tell you,”

(aka an Andreil “what are we?” conversation.)

“Allison hasn’t stopped calling you my boyfriend since we got back from the cabins.” Neil was sat parallel to Andrew with his arms wrapped around his knees in a meagre attempt at keeping warm, next to Andrew’s outstretched legs. The air on the roof of the dorms was crisp with a fresh Spring breeze, the wind swirling debris in little whirls around them. “I haven’t told her to stop, but I will if it bothers you. ”

“Is that what you’ve been thinking about for the last twenty minutes?” Andrew asked, a rhetorical air to the question he didn’t really want answered at all. The smoke that left his lips disappeared quickly in the wind, miraculous that his cigarette was still burning. He brought it back up to his lips and inhaled before turning to look at Neil. He didn’t say anything, and his bored gaze didn’t say much either.

“It’s Allison.” Neil settled for, as if it were explanation enough. He sat up straight to match Andrew’s eye-line. “It’ll catch on.”

Andrew regarded Neil for only a second longer before turning back towards the view in front. “She has never strayed far from being a tabloid princess. It’s nothing more than front page news to her.”

“I told you she was betting on us,” Neil said, but Andrew held up a finger to stop him. “What?”

“Their poor choices in gambling are not my business.” He said, stubbing out the finished cigarette next to him and flicking the butt over the edge. His hands found rest in his lap, interlaced into each other. “They chose a horse in a race and think that they’ve won. I don’t care.”

“Tell me to ask her to stop, then.” Neil looked away as well, arms crossed over his chest, close to asking Andrew to go inside. They could talk in their dorm, except for the fact that Kevin had surprisingly invited Matt over to discuss his playing strategy, and this was not the kind of conversation Neil wanted to have with company. They could speak in German; but he’d made a conscious effort to speak in English in front of his teammates since he promised not to keep secrets from them anymore. “Say the word and I’ll tell her, because I don’t care.”

“Evidently not.” Andrew said. “Why bring it up if you didn’t?”

“Well, does it?” Neil didn’t want to indulge in his desire to dodge his questions by changing the subject. “Bother you, I mean.”

“Irrelevant bullshit doesn’t bother me.” Andrew pedantically emphasised the word bother with quotation marks in the air. “You’re asking stupid questions.”

“Valid questions.” Neil corrected.

“Needless questions.”

Neil sighed and extended his legs. He had to brush the hair from out of his eyes to look over at Andrew, reminding himself that he needed a haircut. “I’ll tell her to stop, then.”

“That is not what I said.” Andrew brushed him off with a wave of his hand.

“So are you my boyfriend?” Neil wasn’t sure why he cared so much, or if he even cared at all, because he knew in truth he would never go out of his way to call Andrew his boyfriend anyway. But in some ways it felt important to understand what was really happening, and how exclusive was their nothing? In his own mind, never to be spoken aloud, did Andrew even believe that they were a thing?

Andrew looked at him, his gaze falling from the top of Neil’s head to the bottom of his chest and back up again. He tilted his head, and landed on Neil’s eyes. After a small inhale, he nodded forward, “No.”

Even expecting it, even knowing that was what he was always going to say, it still felt like a surprise punch to his stomach. That’s what Andrew had done to him, he’d turned him soft, he’d turned him into someone with an interest in normality. He’d turned him into someone who longed for a boyfriend and a life, a home, a future, even if his stomach twisted at the thought.

He pushed down the tiny feeling of disappointment that radiated through his gut, and smiled, “Okay.” Andrew didn’t look away, but he remained silent, and Neil filled the space with a question he knew he shouldn’t ask, but had to ask anyways, “So what are we?”

“You are living inside a movie.” Andrew didn’t laugh, but Neil was sure that the desire to was buried somewhere beneath his stoic expression. “Is that how far removed you’ve become in your freedom, that you think that is something you have to ask me?” He shuffled himself over so he was better facing Neil, and he glanced between his eyes. “We are nothing.”

“A truth?” Neil tested.

“Fuck off,” Andrew poked Neil’s chest hard enough to hurt. “That is the truth.”

“So I’ll tell Allison to stop.” Neil’s head bowed in an over exaggerated nod of understanding. “I’ll tell her that you are not my boyfriend, and you don’t want to be called that. I’ll tell her you said that.”

“I hope that is not supposed to be a threat.” Neil had hoped his response would be more telling, but Andrew continued with, “Would you like to be called my boyfriend?” His tone was less inquisitive than it was mocking, the slightest grimace in his face telling Neil that he hated even saying it.

“I don’t know.” Neil reached a hand out towards Andrew, pausing for a silent glance of approval from him before he placed it on his chest, playing with the strings of the black hoodie he wore. “I’m mostly tired of not knowing what I mean to you.” Andrew’s expression hardened into something resembling annoyance as he continued to speak. “I’m not asking you to call me your boyfriend, okay? I just want to know if you‘re going to meet another guy, and think it’s okay to get him off, because we’re not together.”

Andrew didn’t move to reciprocate the touch Neil had given him, but raised an eyebrow at the hypothetical. “It sounds like it would be a problem for you if I did.”

Neil matched his stare and coolness in his response, “And what if it is?”

“This is an entirely unproductive conversation to have,” Andrew rested a wrist on Neil’s shoulder and brushed a piece of hair back behind his neck. A small but meaningful gesture that perhaps was given in lieu of ensuring Neil that his example would never happen. “I will not give you the pleasure of reassurance. If you haven’t figured it out by now, then I don’t have anything else to tell you.”

“How can I figure it out, when you keep telling me it doesn’t exist?” Neil’s voice was low, and Andrew’s sigh meant he heard the gentleness in it. He heard the way Neil hadn’t meant to sound so pleading, the words leaving his lips in such a way that felt like a desperate whisper for answers. “I want to hear you say it.”

Andrew looked down at the hair by Neil’s neck. “You know that I won’t.”

“Then tell me that we’re not just fucking for fun.”

Andrew dropped his hand and pushed Neil off, seemingly thrown by his bluntness. His laugh was a single short breath, not a semblance of a smile or humour in it. He shook his head as he took a cigarette from the packet he’d pulled from his pocket. Once the cigarette was placed between his lips, he stopped with the lighter a few inches away from his face, pointing the fire starter at Neil. “Well, we’re certainly not fucking for love.”

“That’s not what I meant.” Neil watched as he struggled to ignite the lighter, hand cupped around the flame, the wind set on blowing it out. After the third unsuccessful try, Neil reached forward to help him shield it with both his hands, until three short puffs in from Andrew told him it was lit. Andrew leaned back and exhaled. He watched as Neil pulled his hands away.

“You want to know if I’m going to get bored of you, then.” He said through smoke. Andrew adjusted himself to tuck one of his legs beneath the other, leaning his elbows on his knees. “You want to know if I have feelings, is that it?”

Neil shrugged his shoulders and looked at his hands. “Maybe.”

Neil listened as Andrew let out another smoky exhale. He cleared his throat, and when Neil thought he might speak, he instead filled his lungs again. There was no need to flick off the ash as the wind did that job for him, but from instinct he did it anyway. He let out another humourless laugh, two short puffs following in order to keep the stick lit. Andrew was not looking at Neil as he lifted his eyes to watch him, Andrew’s hazel gaze fixed on something in the distance. Using the thumb and index finger of his free hand he wiped the sides of his lips, tensing his jaw like the words took it out of him just to say. “Fuck you for even asking.”

The tug in Neil’s chest was impossible to ignore. It felt wrong to hear Andrew’s voice wrapped around those words, words that separately read like an insult, yet meant something different to their original form when he uttered them. Like watching a fish out of water, like listening to a mime sing; to have these moments of vulnerability from Andrew were as beautiful as they were rare. He hadn’t intended to steer their conversation to the place where it had landed, and part of him felt guilty as he watched Andrew silently struggle through the side of himself he swore did not exist. The side of Andrew that kept itself buried six feet below, hidden from anyone who asked, except for Neil, who’d been digging a hole for months trying to find it.

“When you put a name to something it gives it permanency, yet an opportunity to end,” Andrew sat up and moved closer to Neil, finding his position with one knee in between his legs, sitting back on a spot on the lower half of Neil’s thigh. He threw the cigarette somewhere behind him as he settled. Taking Neil’s hair into his fists, he examined the look on his face with his lips slightly pursed. He considered his words and took one hand out of Neil’s hair to hold his chin up, making sure he was listening. “You label it however you wish. I will not. Do you understand?”

Neil nodded, afraid to speak, as if any words insufficient would cause Andrew to change his mind about where he rested his body weight. It was reassurance enough that he’d found his way there, and that he remained, comfortable by his own volition.

“And for the record, Abram,” Andrew leaned in close, wisps of his hair tickling Neil’s face, his breath hot as he left a gentle kiss on his jawline. Neil shut his eyes and breathed in the moment, hiding his fists in the pocket of Andrew’s hoodie. “To answer the question you so annoyingly want answered,” He left another kiss higher up on his jaw, brushing his lip against his ear lobe as he moved, slowly, so gently Neil was both afraid he would fall apart, or that he would be able to feel his quickly beating heart through his skin. The hand that had sat in his hair moved to cup the opposite side of his face, the other tucking Neil’s hair behind his ear and holding him by his neck. Neil couldn’t help but shiver as he whispered in his ear, “I will not be fucking anyone else, and I am not just fucking you for fun. Happy?”

Neil nodded as he turned into his lips, melting into the kiss that warmed him up as the wind persisted. His hands pulled out of the hoodie pocket, and he tapped Andrew’s neck for permission to hold him. When Andrew hummed with a barely there nod, he hooked his hands around the back of his neck and pulled him closer.

There were a million things Neil could label Andrew;

Terrifying but caring. Gentle while violent.

Beautiful, like something that deserved to be hung on a wall, yet so precious Neil wished nobody else could see.

Rough. Jagged.

Talented. Human.

Misunderstood, perhaps. Genuine, most of the time.

When he thought about Andrew, there were a million things he could identify him as before landing on Neil’s boyfriend.

He would not tell Allison to stop, nor correct Nicky when he joined in. He would not say it out loud, either, as if their nothing that is something was so sacred it couldn’t be uttered. It was a relief of course to know that Andrew was his, and though he felt embarrassment rush through his blood at the idea of it, he was certain that what they had both found in each other was glaringly rare and hauntingly perfect. He noticed how perfect they fit together in each others space, lips on lips, hands on skin, and wondered how he ever doubted this was it; that this was real.

He was sure that no one else could experience such a thing.

#this got a little too long but I could keep going #the prompt is supposed to be angsty but <3 look at these two <3 #look at how they love each other #I hope this is okay! I hope you enjoy!#I love these funky little guys #Neil josten #Andrew minyard #aftg #all for the game #andreil #andreil fic

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sysig · 5 months

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Delusions (Patreon)

"Could I have your hand, sir?" Max didn't move, which Dexter was, sadly, getting used to.

"Sir?" Max jerked, then turned and stared at him, lost and blank. "Your hand, please."

Max's hand lifted shakily, and he laid it gently in Dexter's upturned palm. Dexter gave a quick and quiet "thank you," then turned it over in his own hand, observing him closely.

Too closely - his knuckles were rough and his fingernails were dull and cracked in places. His once-soft, not-a-day-in-his-life-subjected-to-hard-labour hands were now, already, toughened and split and scarred in places, especially the heel of his palm. He turned it over again, this time to stop looking so intensely. He had only wanted to give it a cursory glance to begin with.

"Do you know what I see, sir?" he asked as conversationally as he could manage, running his fingers along Max's abused flesh. He seemed to be at least half paying attention, his eye gazing down between them, and he'd occasionally twitch, encouragingly Dexter thought. He seemed to want to curl around him, then stopped and shook, his hand squeezing into a fist. Dexter coaxed him back out, encouraged him to hold himself lightly.

"What do you see?" He was almost startled by Max actually continuing their conversation, that happened so rarely now, shaking and quiet as it was. He took a deep breath, was he really going to do this?

"I see a hand, with five fingers." Max remained quiet, though his brow curled, and a guarded look came into his eye, though he still wasn't looking at Dexter. He felt a pang of guilt, but he had to try. "What do you see?"

Max's eye unfocused and began to water. He looked up, but not enough to reach Dexter's gaze in return, instead staring through his chest, and he felt just as hollow and empty as he must look to him.

"Do you take me for a fool, DAX?" Quiet and as close to angry as he'd heard since they'd been here.

No, not angry.

Betrayed.

He swallowed down the stinging lump at the back of his throat. He had to put on a brave face, had to keep his composure if he wanted Max to get better. That was the only thing he wanted, more than anything.

"Of course not, sir. Genuinely, what do you see?"

Max pulled his hand away and turned his body, his bandaged side facing Dexter. Shutting him out, pointedly. Dexter's empty hand curled into a fist, he was no better.

"Please, don't..." Max took a shallow, shuddering breath, and several beats before he spoke again, even quieter. "Don't ridicule me." Dexter could hear his breath catch, and he wanted nothing more than for this all to just stop.

"Sir, I didn't-"

"I've had enough of that." He shook his head stiffly, the action strange and wrong, like he had forgotten how. He stilled, his head turned even further away. "More than enough."

#Doodles #SCII #Helix #ZEX #Dexter Favin #And a drabble-fic under the cut #I ended up writing that the night after I read - I was a bit too inspired while busy so it's a little on the unfocused side haha #I would've cleaned it but I worry it wouldn't make it out of that stage! Please enjoy it for now <3 #This set is mostly periphery ideas - inspired by events rather than directly shown ♪ I suppose the first two kinda count tho #But they're more directly of the little scene I wrote ouò Poor ZEX </3 #And Dex! He's usually so capable! But he's stretching himself so thin ahh it's hard to watch in the best way #Of course he doesn't want to give ''Max'' over to just anyone - anyone at all really - both of their trusts have bottomed out #But how much could he reasonably care for him in that state? When he's still being actively haunted and most importantly - Not Max #He needs helps he needs support he needs to sleep and shower but a second with his eyes off Max and - then what? He'll immolate from fear #It's hard to imagine him crying but pushed to this extreme? To the thought of losing Max utterly and completely? Hhhhh #I do also just love him being possessive even outside of how terrible the situation is - he's always had his glimpses but this situation #Brings out the worst in him <3 In terrible ways #Really his method is just setting ''Max'' up nearby and prompting him over the sound of the shower like that's not nerve-wracking at all #Like he already doesn't answer half the time if that #As for the mini fic I was really interested in Dex's line about indulging ''Max's'' delusions #Apart from the fact that they're not delusions - not that anyone believes him outside of the Institute - what it means to indulge is weird #I saw one example of how to handle delusions that stuck with me - how not to deny them outright while also not reinforcing them #Since it's not actually helpful to be told ''That isn't Really happening to you'' when to you - to ZEX - it really is! How invalidating #And so rather to take the approach of ''I don't see/feel/hear what you are - I can't find any evidence of it myself'' and extrapolating #Dex taking the approach of ''What reality are you experiencing right now?'' and trying to build from there!#Unfortunately ZEX has already been treated like....well like all that - he's not in the mood for games even well-intentioned ones #He /knows/ he's in a human body. He can feel that and see that and understands that. It doesn't change who - what he /is/#The idea of a completely broken ZEX is so sad to me :( He's so strong and prideful and vivacious - Max really is another him </3 #It's not the same but he was saved from death! To fall into torture... But even despite that I want to see him succeed! As much as he can #Even in that small and shaking way I want to see him be hateful and spiteful - angry. Powerful <3 Fighting ♥

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grxceful-ly · 3 months

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don't think i'll be able to make the deadline with a fic for sabezra day, so here's an edit i made a bit ago! @sabezraweek

picture of me as sabine with eman esfandi (the one at the end of the edit) below the cut!!

#i suppose this would be for the “free” prompt #i might post a snippet of the fic i was going to write as well since its rlly short and i probably won't finish it #mostly because i have so many more ideas i want to do and that one didnt stick #but anyway #sabezra #sabine wren #ezra bridger #bluebean #ezrabine #star wars rebels #ahsoka #ahsoka show #sabezra edit #my edits #sabezraday2024 #eman esfandi

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marinaiguess · 7 months

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💜💜💜 “i’m sorry you had to see me like that” sonic + character of your choice 👀

Thank you so much for this prompt, Chaox! I started this today and I'm posting it now, without a second editing round bcuz I need to sleep but I wouldn't be able to sleep if I didn't finish this today :) Hope you like this <3

Sonic Forces inspired. 2k words.

He's getting out of control. Fists clenched so tight he's sure, weren't it for the gloves, he would have drawn blood. His mind is hazy, vision gradually blurring as he tries to shift his attention from the echidna in front of him to anything else.

He should do that right now; he should look away.

Albeit, he can't.

"Can you repeat that, Knux?" he says, his voice laced with venom.

Knuckles takes note of the dangerous undertone—of the warning behind it—but doesn't quite grasp the severity of the situation. He crosses his arms, turning his head away from the other's interrogating gaze. Maybe he can't bear the look on his face, maybe he can't bear the fact that he's wrong. For just this once, he can't deny it, he should have been more careful. Yet another responsibility he had failed to take care of successfully.

"You heard me alright," He spits, anger boiling inside him. "He's not here, Sonic."

Knuckles can feel Sonic's gaze penetrating through his skull. From his peripheral vision, he is able to see the way he's staring at him, the way his jaw tenses and he realizes, it might have been a better idea to break the news in another, more tactful way.

Sonic takes one step forward and suddenly the air is thicker, denser; the room turns tenser.

Amy senses it and opts to act first by putting a hand on his shoulder. "Wait, Sonic, please--"

He yanks her hand away without even bothering to look at her. "Stay out of this, Amy."

"You're kidding," Amy scoffs and she’s not sure if she’s reacting to him ignoring her or to him expecting her to just stand and watch.

This time, he doesn't hesitate to turn his head to glare at her and his emerald eyes have never looked more intimidating before, not to her.

Yet, she doesn't back down. "This is not Knuckles' fault, you know that."

He laughs. There’s nothing funny or humorous about his laugh, but it emits from the depth of his soul, echoing in the room as he turns his attention to Knuckles once more.

"Tell me, commander, whose responsibility was it to look after him while I was gone?"

"Don't give me that shit, Sonic. We couldn't really keep an eye on him--"

Sonic's forearm connects to his neck, pushing Knuckles to the wall behind him. "You couldn't?"

He ignores Amy's pleas, putting more force into his grasp. "Where is he?"

"How should I know?" Knuckles growls. "He's been gone for three months."

Everything goes quiet. Even Amy's voice fades out of existence as Sonic registers Knuckles' words. Without really intending to, he backs down a bit, although he’s still holding Knuckles against the wall.

"What?"

When Knuckles tries to push him away, Sonic doesn’t give him a chance to even touch him and he slams his head on the wall as a warning, his forceful grip returning shortly after, despite hearing Knuckles coughing. Sonic knows he's strong, possibly stronger than him, under normal circumstances, so he understands, even in this state of mind, that Knuckles decides to not fight back.

Good. He doesn’t wanna go all out on him.

"Where is Tails?" he repeats the question.

"I don't know, okay?!"

Knuckles’ scream is the last thing that’s heard in the room, inside the Resistance HQ. Silence fills the void, until Sonic breaks it.

"I trusted you, Knuckles. I trusted you with my little brother's life. And with mine too."

Those words hurt more than Knuckles could have imagined.

But Sonic doesn’t relent, throwing more daggers right at his heart. "Maybe you're just not fit for the job. Or for any job. You shouldn't be taking responsibilities you can't handle."

Knuckles finds himself unable speak, so Sonic does it for him. "I'm gone for six months and you're telling me the war is still going? Great job, commander. On top of that, Tails is gone?"

Knuckles coughs again. "Stop it."

Sonic’s fangs show as a grin carves its way to his face and Knuckles can't tell if it's a sinister act or if it's a coping mechanism to hide his pain. "How does it feel to have failed at everything?"

"Sonic!" Amy intervenes, not courageous enough to properly stand up to him, however.

She's standing still, her hands balled into fists against her chest. It's probably the first time in a long while she's felt this scared. She's never witnessed Sonic lose control like that.

Knuckles meets her gaze and reads her like an open book, agreeing with her thoughts. No matter how well Sonic knows him—well enough to use just the right words to hurt him—in any other case, he wouldn't have gone this far. Something about him is off, his no-die, no-lose attitude is nowhere to be seen, his hopeful, full of excitement for the next adventure eyes are gloomy and dark, his logic is clouded by concern. Even if this is about Tails, this isn't typical of him.

Those six months imprisoned in space did take a toll on him, however much he tried to hide it once they rescued him.

"He's fine," he reassures, getting ahold of Sonic's forearm with both hands, ignoring the way he tenses and hisses. "You trust him, right?"

"Of course, I trust him." he barks, immediately. "But we're in the middle of a war, commander. Eggman might have gotten ahold of--"

"You're--" he scoffs. "You're not thinking straight."

Sonic bares his teeth, his jaw tightening even more. "Are you saying that me being worried is irrational?"

"Yes, it is. The kid can handle himself, Sonic."

"You said it, Knux. Kid. He's just a kid and he's been gone for—for three months?"

"You've left him behind for longer than that before." Knuckles notices out loud.

"It was to protect him!" he spits on his face.

Yet, Knuckles seems unfazed. "What's so different this time around?"

Sonic's mind short-circuits. His eyes widen when he takes in the sight in front of him. He doesn't quite remember how they got here.

"What would he say if he saw you like this?"

The final blow. Sonic had him against the wall but Knuckles had him cornered. He may be right but Sonic would rather not admit that, for the sake of his ego not getting wounded.

He takes a deep breath, letting his arms fall. Knuckles is standing firmly on both his feet now, managing to keep his breathing in check.

Until Sonic approaches him, noses almost touching as he jabs a finger to Knuckles’ chest.

"If there's a possibility, even a slight one, that Tails went through half of the hell I did, I'm blaming you."

Knuckles knows he meant every word, which makes him furious; knowing that he was calm and collected enough to say something like that. Calm enough to walk away after that statement. He can’t just stand there and take it like a champ, resulting in Sonic looking like the bigger guy in this quarrel.

And so, he breaks, guilt washing over him like pouring rain. "You know what, Sonic? You're not the only one who's had it rough. While you were gone, we were fighting our asses to keep the world safe. It wasn't an easy task."

"Yeah? And how did that go?” He turns around to face him. “Ninety-eight percent of the world under Eggman's control and Tails lost,” He huffs a short-lived laugh, bitterness emitting from it. “Excellent work."

Knuckles wants to punch him, he wants to wipe that smug, sarcastic smirk off of his face to knock some sense into him (especially now that he seems he’s pulled himself together, at least a bit) but Amy steps between them, holding her arm out to stop Knuckles on his tracks. He could push her away but she knows he won’t.

"Knuckles is right," She states, locking gazes with Sonic.

For a single moment, she regrets it, upon witnessing the way something passes by Sonic’s eyes, pain written all across his face.

"Knuckles is what? He's right? By saying I didn't have it rough?"

"I didn't—"

Sonic cuts him off, waving his hand as he closes his eyes. "For once in my life I felt truly helpless but I thought you had my back."

Amy and Knuckles can only stare, jaws slack at Sonic’s confession.

"And you just… proved me wrong. I'm—"

His voice breaks, slightly, but of course, it doesn’t go unnoticed.

Knuckles’ face softens and Amy approaches him, just a little bit. "Sonic..."

Sonic ignores her as he sits on the ground, the reality of the situation finally sinking in. "Shit.”

He brings his knees to his chest, almost curling into a ball as he moves his hands closer to his face, inspecting them. Only now he realizes they’re trembling.

He starts rubbing his eyes with the heels of his palms, even if he’s using too much pressure it hurts.

Amy takes a few moments before she kneels next to him, a comforting hand making its way to Sonic’s back. He winces when it makes contact with his fur, arching away from the touch but one look around him persuades him he’s safe. With one long inhale, he decides to relax and accept the friendly gesture, despite it not helping that much.

It is sincere. That’s all that matters.

“We can work this out, like we always do,” She speaks after what feels like an eternity. “We will find him.”

It is wishful thinking more than anything, Sonic notes in his mind. If Tails doesn’t want to be followed, he knows how to hide his tracks. Especially with all the commotion thanks to the war happening around them, it would be ten times harder to get ahold of him or even a rough idea of where he might be.

But Amy’s right. They always win at the end of the day. Together.

Knuckles crouches next to him, patting his shoulder since he seems less tense now. “I’m sorry I couldn’t live up to your expectations,” He confesses and Sonic turns his head around so fast he feels dizzy. “You’re right, I wasn’t fit for the job. But it was a real mess, Sonic. We were lost and outnumbered. Tails felt lost as well, helpless.”

At that Sonic tenses but allows Knuckles to continue. “With you around, we might be able to fix things.”

“Yeah, maybe I—”

“Under my command, though,” Knuckles smirks.

“Aye, aye, commander,” Sonic pouts, playfully.

“And,” Knuckles looks at the wall in front of him. “I didn’t mean to make you feel like whatever you had to deal with back there was not rough. With the way you’re acting, I know it was really bad.”

“Meh, whatever,” Sonic waves a hand at him, grinning. “I’ve had it worse.”

Amy snorts and Knuckles’ raises a brow but they both decide to let it slide.

Sonic hugs his knees, his grin falling. “I’m the one who should be apologizing,” He says, taking a deep breath. “I'm sorry you had to see me like that.”

“It’s okay,” Amy reassures without missing a beat. “We know.”

Sonic looks at both of them, their smiles urging his own to appear on his face as well. If he feels his throat tighten, he ignores it. He feels like he’s cried enough the past six months; more than he should have allowed himself to. Good thing no one was around to see the mess the Infinite illusions had made of him.

“Alright,” he gets up, newfound courage flowing through his veins. “Let’s get to it.”

They get up as they nod when a slam of the door catches them off guard.

“Sonic!”

That voice. Sonic’s smile reaches his ears before he finds the source of the voice.

He’s safe. They both are.

He’s real.

“Tails!”

“I was so worried.”

“You worry too much, look! I’m perfectly fine.”

“Who’s gonna tell him he was losing his shit just a few minutes ago?” Knuckles whispers, which earns him a jab on his chest by Amy’s elbow.

#tehehehe yippeeee #this does remind me a bit of a chaox fic but:(this is not plagiarism i prommy #also . this was supposed to take a different turn #but here we are #hope you enjoy #sonic forces #hurt and comfort prompts #my ramblings #my fics #sonic #sonic the hedgehog #amy rose #knuckles the echidna #sth #sonic fic #fanfiction #long post

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wrencatte · 2 months

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mini-fic 6(ish!) post-Fallen Order. Mantis Crew. Cal & Merrin. Omniscient POV (Mostly Merrin). 1.1k words Cal...has a beard??? ao3 mini fic link - chapter 6 (ponchos)

Cal plops down on the couch with a loud, drawn-out satisfied sound, relishing in the first comfortable seat in literal days. Merrin looks up from her holonovel, blinks once, twice, and bluntly asks, “What is wrong with your face?”

He slaps a hand to his chin. “There’s nothing wrong with my face.”

“No, there is,” she insists, abandoning her novel to grab hold of his wrist and wrench his hand away – or at least she tries to wrench it away, but Cal resists valiantly, muscles straining with the effort. He leans as far back from the Nightsister as possible until he yelps, and they both go tumbling off the couch to land in a groaning heap on the floor.

Cere watches them, eyebrows raised, and lifting not a single finger to assist either one of them. BD chirrups from his spot over the Master’s shoulder, something distinctly mocking in his tone even without knowing binary, and Cal groans again, louder and more obnoxiously.

“Thanks, buddy, knew I could count on you,” he snarks. The droid whistles something else that just makes him laugh.

“What did he say?” Merrin asks even as she resorts to prying Cal’s hand off his face, fingers digging under his palm. He tries to smack her hand away with his free one, but she just grabs it and pins it awkwardly to the side out of the way. She pauses, head tilted in contemplation, then drops her entire body weight on the Jedi. He lets out a wheezing oof! at the suddenness, eyes wide. BD laughs at him. “This would be easier if you just gave in.”

“Doubt it,” he grunts.

They grapple – no, actually, tussle is really a better word to describe it. Neither of them are actually trying at all. Cal’s stuck arching his face away from Merrin since he can use his hand, and Merrin could easily hurt him in this position, so her efforts are half-hearted at best. Both of them are laughing like children, little hushed, breathless giggles. Cere doesn’t hide her smile, thoroughly enjoying the sight of them acting so care-free, and secretly recording the whole thing. Even though they have BD for that, there’s something about having a version all to herself that she can’t resist.

Cal finally gives up and removes his hand. Merrin makes a noise of triumphant – that gets cut off when he (gently) smacks his hand against Merrin’s face instead, effectively blinding her. He uses the surprise attack as leverage to shove her back against the base of the couch and he scrambles to his feet, putting distance between the two of them quickly, and…goes back to covering his chin.

“It is not that embarrassing,” Merrin tells him.

Cal scowls. “You said there was something wrong with my face!”

She makes a conceding expression. “Fair, but I did not mean it in that way. It merely…caught me by surprise.”

Cal had been gone for the last few days, exploring a nearby mountain pass in hopes it was what they were looking for (it wasn’t), so forgive her shock when he came back looking like that. He changed out of his regular poncho and new vest combo in favor of a pair of loose pants with far too many belts and his ratty training top that Greez has tried to throw out several times – though not as many times he’s tried to throw out some of his older, more…pungent ponchos. His hair longer than when she first met him, long enough to tuck behind his ears, and when you add that to what’s going on with his face…

He eyes her warily then semi-reluctantly drops his hand, putting it on his hip instead in a sort of are you happy now? pose. Merrin stares at him. He stares back, weight shifting as if he’s about to bolt.

“It looks good,” she declares finally.

Cal rolls his eyes. “You literally said – .”

“I did not get a proper look! You surprised me!” Merrin snaps. Cal throws his hands up in a huff.

He has a beard.

Or…almost a beard. Barely a beard, it’s still growing in and all. But it’s there and it, and it adds a maturity to his face she wasn’t expecting. Before, his old, world-weary soul could only be felt in the Force when he dropped his shields and let them help him. Now, though, Merrin looks at him and she can see the weight he carries far too easily. The beard looks good, yes, but it makes her heart ache just a little.

Cal scrubs a hand over the short, scratchy-looking beard. It makes his freckles stand out, somehow, or maybe that’s because they’ve been hopping from sunny planet to sunny planet these last few months and he’s no longer stuck under the perpetually gloomy clouds of Bracca. He burns instead of tans, but he seems to get new freckles every day.

“I didn’t mean to grow one in,” he admits. “But I’m kinda attached now.”

“Literally,” Cere adds.

He sticks his tongue out at her then jumps with a strangled yelp when she thrums their bond in admonishment like he’s a twelve-year-old apprentice all over again. “Hey! That’s a cheap shot!”

“What’s a cheap shot?” Greez asks, walking onto the Mantis. He looks up from the holopad he was consulting. “Oh. Hey, Cal, welcome back…What’s wrong with your face?”

Cal swears at him in Huttese as Merrin laughs. “All of you! All of you are against me! It’s not that bad!”

“It truly isn’t,” Merrin assures him, sounding only half-sincere to his ears.

Cere shrugs. “It’s not too bad,” she agrees. “I think it needs another day or two before it really works for you, though. Right now it’s…” She wiggles her hand with a wince.

“Ehhh,” is Greez’s contribution.

Cal hides his face with both hands this time, sighing very, very loudly. “You are all so mean to me. Fine, I’ll kriffin’ shave it off. Greez, got anything I can use? My kit got lost somewhere.” He glares BD-1 from between his fingers and the droid chitters in response, sounding offended. “I am not! You’re the one who went over the ledge! I told you not to scan it!” BD-1 beeps something decidedly rude.

“Nothin’ for your human sensitivity. You’re gonna have to wait until our next supply stop, kid.”

He groans. “Unbelievable. That’s a week from now.”

Merrin pats his shoulder consolingly. “You will survive,” she says seriously. “And if you do not, I know several rituals that will bring you back with minimal…side-effects.”

“Thanks, Merrin, you really know how to make a guy feel better.”

She smiles. “You are welcome!”

#cal kestis #nightsister merrin #cere junda #greez dritus #sw jfo #sw jfo fic #my writing #i have a document of prompt lists ive taken from tumblr #from over the years that i've never used for anything #and i skim through it for a line that sparks an idea and then #i write a mini fic with it #some of these are supposed to be angsty bc they come from the angst list #but im trying a new thing where i don't write angst all the time #im not sure how well it's working #im still practicing my humor and banter

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lurkinglurkerwholurks · 1 year

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Duke wiggles his eyebrows. Just in conversation and in general. All around. Just to have a really fun time. He puts emphasis on words for no reason, drastically changing the meaning.

It was something his dad used to do to make Duke laugh and his mom roll her eyes. Sometimes it was a straight up and down eh-eh-EH?, like Groucho Marx with better grooming. Sometimes it was a roll, one corner of his brow lifting and then undulating like a wave from one side of his face to the other. Duke had loved it every time.

Duke couldn't say exactly when he had started doing it, too. It was just a habit he had picked up, like tugging on his earlobe while thinking or tapping his pen on the desk three times before starting to write. It wasn't too big of a deal, most of the time. It never got him in trouble in uniform, because his eyebrows were covered. Out of uniform, it mostly got him rolled eyes and pity laughs.

Dick seemed to find him genuinely hysterical, or at least was a good enough actor to pull off like he did. Damian just looked at him with mildly disgusted puzzlement (what else was new.) The others fell somewhere between the two, depending on their mood at the moment. Cass had once watched his eyebrows with the laser-point focus of a cat stalking prey before reaching to her right, snatching up the flyswatter, and giving him a light smack across the forehead.

"Bug," she had declared solemnly, before dropping the flyswatter and walking away.

Duke did his best not to do it where Cass could see, but sometimes he slipped. No one else knew the habit was from his dad. When they saw it, they just saw Duke. Soon enough, it was something the others would mimic when doing impressions of him, a shorthand, in the same way hands folded neatly behind the back meant Alfred or hair tossed back meant Dick. And Duke would laugh when they laughed and feel pleased to be seen, even if it meant he was the only bridge from the life he loved to the life he missed.

#you did not put that this was supposed to be a writing prompt so I assumed #writing prompts #batfam #duke thomas #batfic #my fic #I don't think I articulated that whole thing well at ALL but you got paragraphs so there you go

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graesage · 9 months

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So we all know Spider-Punk… but what if there was a Spider-Goth??? A Goth!reader that wasn’t bit by a spider but instead uses venom’s powers catches the eye of our favorite residential capitalist hating punk after taking down a particularly tough anomaly single-handily? Maybe a rival forms between them as reader climbs the ranks possibly passing Hobie and taking the title as one of the best spiders? Maybe the reader secretly looks up to Hobie but is always pushed away because he thinks reader is mocking him? Maybe they go from strangers to enemies to friends to lovers?

But who knows, this is just an idea that I pulled out of my ass (probably explains why it’s so shit-)

Tag me if you do end up doing anything with this please!!! I’d like to see :D

#fanfiction prompts #fic prompt #fluff prompts #astv hobie #hobie spiderverse #hobie brown x reader #hobie x y/n #hobie x reader #enimies to friends to lovers #atsv #fic ideas #writing ideas #someone help #what am i supposed to do #is this real #do i need to say more?#what do you want from me

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optiwashere · 5 months

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You still doing prompt fics?? Shadowheart/Asheerra kisses thirty-nine?

Heya anon! Thanks for sending this in. I'm still on my epilogue high, so that's what's about to happen.

I'm not taking any other prompts at the moment, but well... I had to conjure up a little pre-epilogue ditty.

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Kisses 39 (Jaw kisses)~ CW for some F/F smut with a trans fem Tav topping w/ F/F PIV. Very light praise kink stuff in here.

"You are going to make us late."

Shadowheart's admonishment came with all the fury of a playful jab, a laugh falling free as Asheera pulled her close to her chest. The invitation had come on such short notice, and they barely had time to spare to begin with if they wanted to make whatever mysterious get-together was promised.

And yet.

"It's not as if we'll be there on time as it is," Asheera said. Their room in their home away from home, their cottage stuffed with far too many animals, still had a bit of sunlight lighting it as well. "Maybe we could figure out an excuse?"

She pressed another kiss to the crest of Shadowheart's jaw from behind. Instinctively, Asheera pressed chest harder into her back and into the sturdy table before them. The same one that Asheera built months ago.

Shadowheart murmured an appreciative noise with each kiss to follow. "What was your first instinct? What chivalrous deed were we doing instead of... this?"

"Instead of this?" Asheera's hand drifted over her breast in the doublet she chose for the night. A tasteful reveal of skin and easily pushed aside just as Asheera did then, baring her breast. "I thought that maybe we could say we were defending a village from wicked Sharrans."

"Wicked?" Shadowheart sighed as Asheera's thumb drifted circles on her nipple. "You could say that. Your hands have a wicked streak of their own."

"Do they?"

Asheera let fingers fall down the front of Shadowheart's leggings. She arched into the hand there and leaned her head over to catch Asheera's mouth in a kiss. Tongues found no resistance, eagerly meeting to taste the way they groaned for each other's touch.

For the fingers slipping deeper and the palm gripping Shadowheart's chest. For the hardness swelling up Shadowheart's back.

For the fingers dipped into her. The palm along her clit.

Pulling away from Shadowheart's lips to listen to her breathy sounds, Asheera whispered, "And you? What did you plan on telling them?"

"You can't ask me that," Shadowheart managed to say. Her face flushed red. "Not now."

"Turn around."

Shadowheart lifted herself onto the table immediately, and Asheera worked her leggings free. Just to bow before her for a few kisses trailing up either side of her inner thigh. To find the tuft of hair and nuzzle it, then drift lower. Lower.

Low to circle her mouth on Shadowheart's clit.

She stayed there for the sounds of rapid, accelerated breathing and for Shadowheart's hand in her hair. When Asheera pushed two fingers under her chin, followed quickly by a third, Shadowheart all about crushed her with thighs on either side.

A stroke of her tongue, tasting for more, brought Shadowheart close. A flush tusk against her lips brought the first shudders in her legs. Close enough to tease more.

"You never told me what you planned," Asheera said, standing to pull herself free. She let her length crest Shadowheart's stomach, heavy against her clit. "So come on then."

"Seriously?"

"When have I ever been so serious?"

Shadowheart gripped Asheera's back with her legs, ankles digging in, and tried to pull her inside. Asheera stood strong, smiling against her tusks at the attempt.

"You're really going to make me do this, aren't you?" Shadowheart whined, planting her hands on either side of her for stability.

"A reward awaits you," Asheera promised. She brushed the head of her cock along Shadowheart's clit. "All you've got to do is tell me your little lie."

"Why not tell them the truth?"

Shadowheart lifted herself, sliding easily onto Asheera without much effort. Control fell to the side, and Asheera flattened her palm on the wall behind Shadowheart. Her arm flexed next to Shadowheart's head, and Shadowheart turned to breathe against it with the first handful of thrusts.

Slow but ramping. No time at all before Asheera had to balance herself with both hands on either side of Shadowheart's head, sinking into her with a pace that turned hectic and rough. Crashing bodies together.

The table rattled underneath. It tipped onto the edge of its feet with the next rocking thrust, almost sending Shadowheart toppling.

"So the truth?" Asheera growled, leaning down to kiss Shadowheart's jaw again. Dozens of kisses that remained there as her hips rolled in a steady rhythm.

"Keep doing that."

"Tell me your lie," Asheera repeated.

Shadowheart leaned into her mouth, pushing her jaw into another kiss. Between each nibble and taste, she said, "We... were checking the balance of the table."

"The balance. That's good."

Shadowheart whimpered with another thrust, deep enough to shake her. Dropping one of her hands, heat expanding in her back at the strain, Asheera took a thumb to Shadowheart's clit as she fucked the truth into Shadowheart's lie.

Stared into her eyes with a grin.

The pleading noises, curled toes, and begging for them both to come had Asheera spent before she was even beginning. White strands spilled over around Asheera, joined by a gush of Shadowheart's own slick not long after.

It took them a moment to calm down and their bodies to cease pushing together in animalistic need.

"How was the balance?" Shadowheart asked, sweat brimming her brow.

"Very good," Asheera panted. She slipped free and watched with a grin as her cock shone with both of their come. "You're an excellent woodworker."

"You are an idiot," Shadowheart joked with a laugh, pushing her thighs together. "Can't deny a good word or two in my favor, though."

"Well you were very good."

"Was I?"

Shadowheart's breathy question caught Asheera off-guard, but she recognized the tone. The wide eyes. Her knees cascaded over one another, trying to put a little more weight, pressure on her clit.

"You were," Asheera said, "a very good girl."

With a visible shiver running down Shadowheart's body, Asheera considered double checking the balance of the table. Mouths were good for that, too. It took no extra encouragement to get to her knees, to spread legs apart, and to bury her face in for another taste.

Whether anyone at the camp would recognize the blissed-out expression on Shadowheart's face later wasn't important.

#bg3 #baldur's gate 3 #bg3 fanfiction #baldur's gate 3 fanfiction #shadowheart #bg3 shadowheart #shadowheart x tav #asheera x shadowheart #oc: asheera #my fic #anotheropti prompt fics #another one that got a bit long #I am a woman of simple joys and this is but one of them I suppose

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