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fang-and-feather · 1 month

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Ikemen Vampire - Theo x OC

Words: 1,747

Summary: Amy had always been confident of who she was, so a change to what she thought very set about her, made her feel lost on her own identity. If this can change, what else that she also took for granted can? Luckly she has Theo to help her find herself again.

Tags: Fluff and Comfort, Sexuality and Identity Crisis, Background Genderbending, Background Polyamory, Background Theo x Female Arthur, just slight suggestive at the end

Written for April's Polyam Shipping Day Prompt: Attraction from @polyamships

I also have a poll regarding the future of this fic

I want to thank @onegianthotmess for her post from which I borrowed genderbent Arthur's name, and @bicayaya and @keithsandwich who I talked to about Amy's sexuality once and they were very sweet and helpful (if there was anyone else in that post, I will add you to these credits when I actually find the post)

This fic is very experimental. I am exploring something different with Amy, exploring how she would work in a ship with Theo, and it's also my first time properly writing Theo and the first trying genderbent IkeVamp... I didn't have much space for Arthur in this chapter, but this will focus on the three of them.

Also, how did I take the whole day just to edit this?!

Next Chapter / IkeVamp Masterlist / General Masterlist / AO3 Link

Amy had to deal with questioning herself, at minor changes in life or when questioned by someone else, but that was an easy, quick process, to assert her position in a situation.

Recently, it had been one change after another. Realizing her knowledge of the world was limited, vampires existed and time travel was possible. Questioning her feelings for Theo. And the more serious one, questioning her place in the new world as she chose to stay in this time period. She quickly adapted to every change.

But these situations, and everything before, had been about adapting to something external, be it a place, a situation or a person. The most internal questioning was about her tastes in men when she fell in love with Theo. It wasn’t that big of a life change.

Now this? This wasn’t related to a single person, and it changed her whole perception of herself, and such change removed all of her security in her own identity.

Although Amy never had actually been attracted to anyone before Theo. Never been in love before him. Her attempts at figuring if any shift of feelings towards a friend was love, and the different ways she observed each gender, made Amy very sure she was only interested in men. She never doubted that since her late teens.

And now she had a boyfriend. There was no reason to question it.

That was until the last few days around Arthea.

Amy had been friends with the writer for a while. She was Arthea’s early reader, and they sometimes went out together, solving small cases around town, and often grabbing something to eat on the way back. Arthea was someone Amy trusted to comfort or distract her to avoid panic attacks. But although Amy always had difficulty noticing the difference, nothing of the feelings she had differed from any of her other closest friends, so it had to be purely platonic.

Until this week, and especially this morning.

It had been a case to solve like any other, but when they stopped by a cafe for some sweets, Amy found herself embarrassed by Arthea sharing a spoonful of her own dessert. It was something she always casually did with other friends. Not something she had any romantic association besides movies making it seem so.

And she still attributed it to realizing people were watching and would have a different interpretation. But there was little to no excuse to what happened in the carriage.

Even while to justify the weirdness of earlier, Amy couldn’t forget it and be comfortable around her friend.

Arthea acted the same as always and tried to comfort her with the usual flirty teasing. But at that moment, it made things worse, especially when Arthea leaned in, as if to kiss Amy.

Amy knew her friend wouldn’t, but a part of her wanted it to happen. She felt trapped and confused and overreacted, things getting even more awkward between them.

She was afraid of what these feelings meant. If she couldn’t trust in what she was the most safe about herself, what else could change? How could she be sure of things? And who she was if she couldn’t be sure of anything?

The idea of such internal changes also brought up things she would rather forget, and the fear of these changes bringing her to similar points again.

Besides, a little voice amidst all that chaos whispered that this kind of change wasn’t appropriate. Something she always accepted in others, but in herself, it was unacceptable.

But that was the thing that mattered the least. Being stripped of her self knowledge was what scared her.

Amy built a kind of character out of traits she had that fit occasions, like a professional Amy for work, but to build and maintain these, she had to know her core, and if her core changed, it destabilized everything else. She would have to put a long time into rebuilding everything.

But if something changed, how could she be sure it wouldn’t happen again? That she wouldn’t put all that effort only to have to do it again halfway? And how would she deal with these situations in the meantime?

Amy nearly jumped when an arm wrapped around her back, but she found herself secure in Theo’s embrace.

She had hidden in the attic because she didn’t have the energy to deal with people. She wasn’t aware her boyfriend was back and that he would find her.

“What’s the problem, Hondje? Are you sad because I didn’t take you on a walk today?”

“I’m fine, Theo.” She gave him a quick kiss on the cheek. “Just thinking.”

“It doesn’t feel right for you to be so quiet.” When she remained quiet, unsure of what he really expected her to say, he sighed. “She told me what happened.”

Of course Arthea did. She was one of the biggest gossipers in this house, even though she had serious competition.

“I’m sorry. Won’t happen again.”

If it already didn’t feel right before, thinking that Theo already had an idea of who she was that he had committed to, it didn’t feel proper to change that.

“Are you sure? Because if you can control it, then it shouldn’t have happened now.”

She should have known he would be mad. Why was he even still holding her in such a comforting manner? She had messed up his trust.

“I’ll learn to.”

Amy expected a serious response like “As you should” or something more teasing with hidden understanding like “I’ll make sure you do”. But Theo pulled her closer and caressed her hair, a sweet gesture that didn’t seem to fit the situation.

“Do you like her?” Amy shrugged. Even she wasn’t sure. “I’ve known it for a while, even if you didn’t notice, and I don’t like this. I don’t want to share you. But is it really so much worse than seeing you struggling to hold back and hide yourself for me?”

The words sounded strange coming from Theo, but it took Amy a moment to realize why.

These were the same words she had told Theo after he, slightly more drunk than usual, had almost kissed an even more drunk Arthea that was flirting with him after a party.

She had confronted him when he was sober, but it took a while to wear down his stubbornness and get Theo to admit that he was interested in the writer before Amy even showed up. But he clashed with Arthea’s personality and didn’t think she was looking for anything serious with anyone.

Besides, he had other things in his mind other than looking for a relationship, and that made him push these feelings away, apparently successfully. So, when he met Amy, he didn’t even think about that when falling in love with her.

But forgetting and just burying the attraction were different things. His case was the latter, although he only realized so when drunk.

And although Amy never imagined she would, was okay with it. In fact, she was partially happy that Theo was opening himself to new feelings and experiences. But a part of her still wanted to keep him all to herself.

These words meant Theo felt the same. And Amy wished that solved all her problems.

When she continued not to respond, Theo pushed her down on the bench, trapping her under him.

“What is it? Were you trying to make me jealous? Expecting me to punish you? Because I can always change my mind.” he said with a dangerous smirk.

“No!” Amy finally spoke, trying to push him away by the shoulders, but neither she put that much effort in it, nor he let himself be pried away.

“Then what is it, Hondje? Seems like I still didn’t train you properly, if you still think you need to hide from me. Shall we start a new lesson now? Or will you trust me?”

Between his usual teasing, Theo knew the right words to push her. And never too hard either, as surprising as it would be to other people.

“I… I was sure I wasn’t like this… and the idea of changing makes me feel… broken. I’m not sure if I even am the same person anymore. Or who I will be in the future. What If I become someone very different from who I am now? Someone different from the person you love?”

“What nonsense is that? Why would being attracted to her change who you are? You ‘are’ the person I love, and you couldn’t change that even if you wanted.” His tone was fierce, but the words were sweet. “I wouldn’t be Arthea if it was that easy to change my mind. It’s not you who will manage that.” Theo intertwined their fingers, an intimate gesture that also had her further pinned down, and kissed her until she was breathless. “And I changed for you. Am I a different person?” When Amy shook her head, he kissed her again. “If you ever forget who you are, I’ll be sure to remind you. Thoroughly. Because no matter who you will become, you will always be mine.”

Theo kissed her again, letting one of her hands go to explore her body. Amy moaned, her hold on his hand tightening. Her next words didn’t match her actions, though.

“Not here, Theo.”

When they parted, Theo sat back, pulling Amy with him.

“I’ll listen because you were a good girl. But you better be prepared. Once I get you back to bed, you won’t be leaving until I make sure you have no more silly worries. And maybe for a while longer, because I don’t think you will be able to stand when I’m done with you.”

Theo grinned before pulling her for a new kiss. One hand still entangled with hers, the other tangling in her hair, holding her closer.

Amy didn’t try to protest this time. Because Theo was right that she had him for purchase if she even lost sight of herself.

She would have to talk to Arthea later. But, for now, Amy would enjoy her current boyfriend.

“Does that mean you will take a break from work?”

“Someone will have to keep an eye on you, Hondje. You always get in trouble when I’m not looking.”

She did not. But before she could protest, Theo was kissing her again, stealing all further thoughts, leaving just him. And Amy couldn’t feel safer.

Tag List: @tele86, @nightghoul381, @natimiles, @bicayaya, @eventinelysplayground, @2-lines-and-a-circle, @vampiricpancake, @specters0rd

If you want to be tagged/untagged on future writings, even if it's in specific contents, you can reply to this post or send me a message

IkeVamp Masterlist / General Masterlist

#polyamshippingday #ikemen vampire #ikevamp theo #v: arthur conan doyle x theodorus van gogh x original character #polyamorous characters #ikevamp #fanfiction #ikevamp fanfic #genderbending

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shadowfoxsilver · 2 years

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Donation Scams

Over the years, several users have popped up out of nowhere claiming they need mutual aid. Now generally, for the most part, those who are asking for aid usually are legitimate users. Unfortunately, recently, some who are sending asks for aid are actually scammers using randomly generated blog names and posing as someone who needs aid while stealing the information from those who really need help. They will even go so far as stealing the info from someone who may have passed away recently with little care to what happens from theft.

I am not saying all users needing aid are scammers; Rather, there are those who are mixed in with the real users and making it difficult to find them by yourself. I will attempt to explain how these scams work as best as I can with examples given.

tl:dr - Scammers are stealing info from legit donation posts from numerous places and currently spamming asks to reblog their scam posts or making up stories in asks telling you to reblog their posts. Searching their username will generally reveal they stole info.

Please share if you'd like. I'm not a popular blog, and sadly some popular blogs have fell for these scams. All I ask is that you remain civil, I am aware most people will already know how to spot scams but this is for those who haven't yet learned how to.

So how do these scams work? A person will join this site with a random username that's clearly been auto-generated and then go about editing their profile to fit whatever they chose to scam by. This may be targeting LGBTQA+, natural disasters that are still being recovered from, other minorities, or fandom related. Regardless of the case, they will copy/paste blog headers from someone else and edit their blog info to anything relevant to what they decided to use for the most part. Once that's done, they'll start searching tags.

These tags they search may also be relevant to their scam, or random posts they'll group together to look somewhat relevant. Usually a fandom tag, a tag for cool things, or a tag for an animal of sorts and generally just any tag that will also be used to look legit. Once they have chosen a tag, they will reblog about 20 posts from the tag but it's usually in the span of several minutes all at once. They will not tag these reblogs, and may occasionally reblog a few days later.

After this, they'll make a donation post. They'll add images to this post that may be sensitive, use words that are guilt tripping towards the reader, or steal the story someone else had when they had coped the post. Usually, though, the story they tell is just copy/pasted from wherever they stole the pics from. Generally speaking, they are from facebook/gofundme/etc and edited enough you may not easily locate the sources. After they make the main post, they'll add a paypal in the post as well that isn't the paypal that would have originally been in the post. At times, the original post did not have paypal listed! Sometimes, though, a different funding site is listed that isn't one very well known.

Afterwards, the scam blog will then start sending asks to reblog their pinned post, which is the donation post. The ask may tell someone to answer privately, an effort to obscure the ask from those who are searching it in tumblr search. They will send these asks out all at once to random users, many who will reblog the post without much attention to it's contents. However, some will take notice of this blog and search it's contents to find out it's rather new. Generally, these blogs are a few days old with no other posts.

Once called out, the scammer will then start to block anyone whose reblogged their posts saying their a scam. They'll also hide any reblogs so it won't show up in the notes.

Examples of scam blogs, sourced from my scam busting blog:

Link Link Link LInk

So please, do your research if you get an ask that asks you to reblog a pinned post. Check to see how old the blog is, how many posts they made, and if the ask was sent to several other users. It's also good to search the paypal name for any existing alerts.

#longpost #long post #scam alert #scam #donation scam #please boost #signal boost #psa

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lykegenia · 1 month

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OC in 15 - Leah Kingston

rules: share 15 or fewer lines of dialogue from an OC, ideally lines that capture the character/personality/vibe of the OC. Bonus points for just using dialogue without other details about the scene, but you're free to include those as well!

Thank you for the tag @serenpedac! It's inspiring to see what quotes you chose for Yael!

links to the fics in the little x - if there isn't one next to the quote, it's because it's from the same fic as the next x down

I can’t help a smile. “Mi book-casa es su book-casa.” “That’s terrible!” Felix exclaims, but he slaps his thigh and laughs nonetheless. “It’s also three a.m.,” I point out. “You want good puns, wait until I’ve had my morning tea.” (x)

“He’s good-looking. He seems nice, for what it’s worth. But that doesn’t mean he’d stay, and it doesn’t mean he’d be interested in anything… beyond casual. I have more worthwhile uses for my time than trying to guess a stranger’s motives for noticing me.” (x)

“You know, if you keep trying to outdo yourself, eventually you’ll set the kitchen on fire.”

“Look, you don’t have to come out, or say anything. I guess if you’re not listening it’s not like there’s anyone else here to listen to me talking to a door like a crazy person either.”

“If you’ve come to break up with me because of one stupid accident you can come back and do it in the morning. I’m not dealing with it now.” (x)

“They’re not monsters. If you knew even half the things they’ve done to protect us, you wouldn’t say that.”

“Oh no, whatever would the almighty Agency do without the mayor’s kindly beneficence?”

“I always did want to know what it would be like to be an immortal visiting a museum. There’s all this history and knowledge on display, but none of it existed when you were… younger. We’re still making scientific discoveries every day, but three hundred years ago the concept of science wasn’t even a thing – we didn’t even have dinosaurs until the 1820s.”

“I completely agree, sir. At some point I, too, would love to be able to find out about local news through some other medium than a loud phone call.”

“Don’t worry, I understand. I learned a long time ago how much the Agency values its secrets.”

“I don’t know? You were upset, I don’t know what to think, and in case you’ve missed the newsflash, I’m really bad at this. Being a normal person. Not fucking things up. Relationships are something other people get to have – I’m just the one who clears up the mess when they go wrong.” (x)

“You’re a three-hundred-year-old vampire who’s been all over the world, how the hell is that ‘not much’? I’ve lived a tenth of your lifespan and I’ve barely been an hour outside of Wayhaven – compared to you, I’m boring. It’s an objective fact. And even if that weren’t true, god forbid I want to learn things about the person I’m supposedly in a relationship with! If you don’t want to talk about yourself that’s fine, you can just tell me – I don’t need to be bullshitted.”

“Thank you for doing this. It means a lot. You didn’t have to.” (x)

“You’re sitting out in the rain like someone abandoned you at Christmas. I’m worried.” (x)

“A little disorder gives it personality, don’t you think?” (x)

Turns out it's hard to sum up characters just with lines of dialogue, especially when it's conversation that's important.

Passing this along to @naiatabris @pigeontheoneandonly @ellenembee @allisondraste and @persephotea

#tag game #leah kingston #the sarcasm hides the bitterness

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cloudofbutterflies92 · 5 months

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Piano night

youtube

Inspired by this video and the moodboard made yesterday [link] I decided to write this mini shot (I'm still working on the second part of Days in Verdansk 🙏)

Tag: @alypink @graveyard-party666 @chloekistune @cassietrn @onehornedbeast @voidika

Divider by @saradika-graphics

Words count: 458

She looked at the fridge, undecided about what to cook that night: after Simon's return from deployment, Eden had decided to make a simple dinner. There were two options, a four cheese pasta or spaghetti puttanesca, she wanted to try something different.Strangely enough, Mr. Orange was lying in his kennel, surrounded by his covers.

"What shall we choose?" She called from afar, humming the commercial tune that echoed softly in the kitchen, occasionally moving her hips in rhythm.

When she got no answer, she tried calling him twice more and almost panicked.

"I'm starting to think you've been abducted by aliens" the girl came out of the kitchen, unable to do anything but watch the scene with a smile on her face.

"I can't, bloody sheet music" Simon sat in front of the piano with his reading glasses on, really wanting to commit to learning this song. He had bet Soap and Gaz that he could do it in three days, it was really impossible.

"Learning problems, Mr. Riley?" the raven-haired woman hugged him from behind, resting her own nostrils in his blond hair. His green apple shampoo, she could lose hours smelling it.

"This is fucking hard, I don't want to have to pay these bastards for a week's breakfast." He protested in his thick British accent.

It took an intervention from her, playing the piano since she was five years old helped.

"Edie, I can do it myself, you have to" Eden frowned at him before taking Simon's hand and guiding him with one finger to press the black G key.

"In that case you must make the change immediately, like this" she made the change to C on the fourth octave "see how harmonious the sound is?"

"I think so," he confusedly tried to repeat the same process and succeeded. It was almost as if he had made a new discovery.

"Did I do that?"

"Do you see anyone else silly?" She showed the dimples with a smile, then moved her hands to the sides of his jaw.

"Now let's try it together, shall we?" She sat down on the bench and made room for him. Together, fingers intertwined, they began to play the piece, holding each other and smiling, the stoic and cold Lieutenant was a different person in the company of the person who had changed him for the better.

"See how good you are? These two will get away. You should be afraid of me, not them."

"You have a different effect on me" he grinned, causing her to bring her hand to her forehead.

"You men, you are always the same" she softened, resting her head on his shoulder, which he kissed with the sound of the piano that enchanted this quiet evening.

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robo-dino-puppy · 7 months

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I hit a sort of follower milestone recently (and I'm reasonably sure most of you aren't bots) so... new pinned post time!

(to all the followers and moots I see in my notifs all the time - I love you all so much ♡)

▷ First of all:

I made horizon-armor and you should check it out if you've ever wanted a gallery of all Aloy's armor and dye options from HFW :D Here's a previous pinned post about it. This ↑ is the card I made for it in the Horizon Database, which is not mine but you should also check out if you're interested in gameplay mechanics/tips/tricks/practically any info you ever wanted to know about HFW. (the database was put together by twingeofregret on Arktix's discord, and many of the items there were put together by other server members)

▷ Second, I don't think it needs saying? But DON'T REPOST - meaning, don't reupload in your own post - any of my work and don't upload it to any other sites. Yeah this is "only" virtual photography but I still spend time on it and it's mine. Please don't, for anyone's creations. Reblog or share links!

▷ Thirdly, absolutely feel free to use my pics as drawing/art references or personal phone backgrounds! (But please don't edit my shots and repost them.) If you use things as references I'd love to be tagged so I can see what you drew/painted/whatevered <3

...the rest below a cut because I don't know how to be brief...

▷ Fourth: I would very much appreciate anyone who wants to add image descriptions to my posts - I know it's a sucky excuse but when I've tried doing it I just end up exhausted and feel like it's either too longwinded or not a good description at all. So if anyone who is good with words would like to help me out I'd be super grateful! I'll reblog your addition and (if you're cool with it) I can add it to the alt text of the image.

▷ Fifth: With the more-real-than-ever possibility of Tumblr imploding, I thought I'd also include where else you might find me! I'm not going anywhere until this place melts down because Tumblr is the only place I've ever felt comfortable, but I also have an account on Reddit (ew) that I use occasionally: I'm robo_dino_puppy there. I put Horizon videos on YouTube sometimes: I'm robo-dino-puppy over there too. I exist on Discord although it's rather... social for me and honestly I'm still not sure if I'm doing it right haha. I guess I should make an effort to join more servers to keep track of people just in case, but I've always felt like I'd be a fraud or an invader with the ship servers because I don't actually ship Aloy with anyone...

As a backup for the armor gallery I've snagged horizon-armor (and robo-dino-puppy, for that matter) on Neocities, but there's nothing there at the moment because I'm currently waaaaay too braindead to create a site from scratch. Also empty right now, but in case of future need I'm squatting on robo-dino-puppy on Dreamwidth and Pillowfort.

And now thanks to a kindly-provided invite, robo-dino-puppy on Bluesky!

aaaaand finally I'm also @robo-dino-puppies if you're interested in my non-Horizon stuff/reblogs/my sideblog 👀

#pinned post #maintenance #text post #also my asks are open and i think i'm pretty friendly so... lmk if there's something else i should cover!#*good god* i hope tumblr doesn't disappear because it's been a part of my life for so long #i love maintaining this blog as a scrapbook of my ridiculously excessive captures folder #and tumblr is the only 'social' media i've ever felt comfortable on - mainly because i can avoid being actually social hah #turned off reblogs for this one just because it's very much pinned-post-y and maybe i'll update it at some point #but if you need to for some reason you can reblog the past pinned post about the gallery!

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arwamachine · 10 months

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ao3 stats game

Thank you for tagging me, @thetimemoves!

Rules: Give us the links to your wonderful words with the most hits, most kudos, most comments, most bookmarks, most words, and least words.

Most Hits/Kudos/Comments/Bookmarks: Most hits, kudos, and comments—by a landslide—goes to Indefinite Lines. This is my post s4 mega-fuck-off of a fic that endeavored to take everything we were given in canon and turn it into something beautiful. Epic villains. BAMF!Rosie. Love for days.

To Stand Before the Storm still holds the title for most bookmarks, I assume because sheep. 🐑

Fourth Most Kudos: This is You Might Just as Well Be Blind, a fun-as-hell, fake-relationship-for-a-case, only-one-bed fic I managed to churn out at record speed for a fic exchange that somehow managed to turn out not that bad. Bonus BAMF!Hudders.

Most Words: Once again, Indefinite Lines by a landslide! This fic technically takes place over the course of 4,650 days. There was a lot to say.

Least Words: Excluding the Pridelocked poetry I wrote, that would be Origin of a New Species, the first fic I ever posted! This is a bit of an odd one, told from the perspective of a Sherlock who is so bored that he (metaphorically) devolves into a single-celled organism...until John helps, of course. This fic is a perfect example of why fanfic is so fucking awesome, because nowhere else would I be able to write that bullshit and have anyone else be willing to read it 😆

#fanfiction #johnlock fanfiction #sherlock fanfiction #ao3 stats game

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ghostwise · 1 year

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ironbark, opal, and gold

words: 1.6k tags: zevran arainai, mahariel, zevran/m!warden, wedding rings, antiva, original characters, fluff

The jeweler’s shop is smaller than expected. Every surface is cluttered with tools, and there is a layer of grime along the wall but not the floor, indicating the type of person who only bothers to clean when the mess is actively interfering with their work. Nor does the jeweler have a proper storefront; just his counter, from which he greets Zevran with a nod before remembering he ought to speak to the customers.

This all means one of two things: either the jeweler is a hack, or a genius. But does it matter?

“Buenas, compadre,” the man tells him. He produces from behind the counter a small case of necklaces and bracelets. “Bonifacio, at your service. What can I help you find today?”

Zevran greets him. He glances over the jewelry, noting the traditional hammered Antivan style, the little swirls of silver, all requiring a steady hand.

“Tell me,” he says, “do you make all these yourself?”

“But of course! Finest silver and gold in Antiva, and anything not to your liking, I can alter.”

“Wonderful!” Zevran says, not really looking at any of the items in the case. “How much could I pay you to make use of your workshop for the day?”

The jeweler sets the case down and scowls.

Zevran smiles at him. He’s already been turned away at two other shops and has a few more to go. This time, he tries a bit of coaxing.

“I am getting married,” he confides, and it’s thrilling to share the news, even with a stranger.

“Ah,” Bonifacio says with a sigh. Holding up a finger he walks away from the counter. Moments later he returns with another case, this one full of sparkling rings.

“I see what you are getting at, young man,” he says, “but for something so important, why leave it to chance? Look at this. White gold and diamonds. Amethysts, rubies. Tell me about this girl. What does she like?”

“He is not so gaudy,” Zevran laughs. “My man is not one for gems. What else do you have?”

“Of course, of course! I have such a variety. Let me bring out the men’s rings. Of course.”

He hasn’t been thrown out yet, and that is encouraging. Instead, case after case of rings is brought out for his perusal. Zevran looks at them all, declining every one, and when the last case has been rejected, Bonifacio sighs again.

“Ten andris for the use of the shop,” he says finally. “Plus materials.”

“Thief,” Zevran scoffs. “I come here with my heart bared and you say ten andris?”

“Nine, then.”

“Has anyone even come in before me today? I very much doubt it. Look at the state of this place—you need to mop your baseboards and clean your windows—”

“Alright you bastard, how’s eight andris and you do the cleaning yourself?”

“Deal,” Zevran quickly agrees and thrusts out his hand. It is midday, and he needs this to work.

Haggling concluded, Bonifacio shakes his hand firmly, like a merchant or a noble.

“Now if you could show me to the work room—”

“Not yet,” Bonifacio says. “Tidy up first. Then you pay, then you use the workshop out back.”

“A fair agreement,” Zevran says, unable to keep the grin off his face.

He gets started right away. Organizing as he goes, he cleans efficiently, the way he grew up knowing one speck of dust could mean retaliation. All the while Bonifacio tinkers at the counter, peering through a lens at the broken links in an old necklace. Nobody comes into the shop. But Bonifacio interrogates him, leaving lengthy gaps between each question.

“So when are you getting married?” he asks.

“Ah,” Zevran says, wringing out a washcloth by the window. “Soon.”

“You don’t have a date?”

“We are traveling, and we need to first find a Chantry willing to marry us,” Zevran says.

“Willing?” Bonifacio asks.

“My fiancé,” Zevran says, and the word glimmers like a big ruby, “is Dalish.”

Bonifacio lets out a low whistle. Few Chantries will bless unions with non-Andrastians.

He’s quiet for a while before speaking again.

“Congratulations. And good luck with, uh, all that.”

Zevran pauses, looking up at the man. “Thank you,” he says, not sure what he means exactly.

Bonifacio grunts. A quarter of an hour passes before he speaks up again.

“My wife was Dalish,” he says, unbidden.

Zevran glances over.

“Lovely woman, but not for the city. Always felt like I was keeping a bird caged. We were happy enough. She called me Bon-Bon,” Bonifacio says with a smile. “It’s just different. That’s all I mean. Parents had their opinion, half the town did. It is what it is. Worth it, though. Right?”

It comes out in a rush, as if he’s been dying to talk about it. Zevran watches him, this middle-aged man with fine tools in his hands, still tinkering on the broken necklace. He thinks about the state of the shop, and the lack of clientele.

“What happened to her?” he asks.

“She passed,” Bonifacio says gruffly. “Last year.”

“My condolences,” Zevran offers. “She must have meant a lot to you.”

“Mmh. Yes.”

The jeweler holds up the necklace, now mended. Every broken link has been repaired. Zevran returns to his sweeping, but Bonifacio pushes himself up off the counter.

“Finish up,” he tells him. “Let’s get started on that ring of yours.”

Zevran leaves the city with his pockets twenty andris lighter, and a velvet pouch clutched in his hands. He’s worked through the day, and the sun has set when he reaches the campsite far past the outskirts of town.

Hamal is there, stoking the fire, singing to it as he does every night. Zevran pauses just out of sight, listening.

He’s thinking, also, of the old jeweler, and his advice.

By Dalish and Chantry law alike, only Death can undo the vow you’re about to take. Cherish the time you have, my friend.

Zevran wastes no time. He walks directly into the light.

“Ma vhenan,” Hamal says, “there you are.”

Zevran drops to one knee before him and kisses him. Hamal hooks a finger into the collar of his shirt, tugging him closer. It’s good that they tend to agree on these things. Zevran is the one to finally pull away, only because he can’t rightly give him the ring while attached to his face, can he?

“Hamal,” he says. He holds out the pouch, takes his hand.

“Wait,” Hamal exclaims, and scrambles to his feet.

Zevran blinks, watching him dash off into the tent. He emerges with a rucksack, tearing through it, tugging out pouches and bowstrings and a hat—

“I am not familiar with these customs—I thought we did this at the Chantry, not before—where is it? Oh!”

Whatever he was searching for, he rushes back to Zevran’s side, a wide grin on his face, hair unbraided and eyes dancing.

“Whatever are you doing, love?” Zevran asks. He starts a laugh, and before he knows it he’s overcome by it, enamorado, muy risueño. And Hamal laughs too.

“I thought—well, aren’t we exchanging rings now?”

“You have a ring?”

Hamal nods eagerly, holding it up in the light. It is a little thing of carved ironbark and gold, mottled in brassy colors only a Dalish craftsman could create. Zevran feels like he’s wanted this precise ring his whole life, and only realized it just now.

“It’s beautiful,” he says.

“I traded Master Varathorn for it,” Hamal says, and Zevran stares.

“Varathorn. That was months ago,” he tells him.

“Yes.” Hamal smiles. “The moment I saw it, I knew I wanted it for you. I just wasn’t sure… the Archdemon…” He pauses, unsure how to say this. “I planned to leave it to you. After… In case…”

He can’t say it and Zevran doesn’t want him to.

Zevran quickly takes the ring he’d crafted out of its velvet pouch. “I made this for you,” he says.

It is a simple band of gold inlaid with opal. Zevran turns it and points to the inside of the band, where the words vhenan and corazon are carved, a tiny opal set between them.

Hamal takes a long look at it.

“Here,” Zevran says, taking his hand. “Listen, because I am not sure that I will get it right in the Chantry, and it is more for you, anyway. You are my home. All my life, I never had one or even thought I could find one; yet I have never felt an orphan since meeting you. So there is no alternative for me, you understand? There is nowhere else for me to go, other than wherever you are. I mean that, amor… more than allegiance to any country or creed. Let me declare myself, then, a citizen of You, municipality of a country called Us, of which we two are the sole happy inhabitants.”

Hamal watches him place the ring onto his finger with what can only be described as sincere adoration, the words filling his thoughts like honey.

“I didn’t have a speech prepared,” he says softly. He gives Zevran his ring and kisses it, which suits Zevran just fine.

“Creators! But I cannot fucking wait to marry you, Zevran! Can we do it right now? Quick! Where is the nearest clergy?”

It is lovely to be understood so thoroughly. Zevran could laugh, or kiss him again, or ravish him right then and there. In the absence of a revered mother, and thus forced to wait, he opts for all three.

#rinnywrites #dragon age #dao #zevran arainai #zevran x warden #mahariel #oc: hamal mahariel #valentine's day piece :-)#i wrote this during the week and had a rough day so i decided to try and edit it after work #polished it up but it still feels like it's missing something; feels like two fics instead of one #but one thing i will always do is highlight like um community and the support ppl show each other and um #sappiness #this also feels like it's bridging 'four little crows off to meet the maker' with 'picture our wedding itd be summer sour and summer sweet'#and i'm gonna try to do less one-shots and more actual writing of qdt lmao or i'll never finish #ok now i sleep zzz zzzz zzz

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ivsleeptoken · 7 months

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Heya! I've just fallen into the Sleep Token hole and I need some pointers. Do you have any links to posts or anything that explain how to differentiate between III and IV (I know II is the drummer) and what everyone's personalities are like onstage? I'd really like to get to know the characters but I don't know where to start.

Heya, welcome! 🙏🏽 I'm still new(ish) myself but I will do my best to help out in whatever way I can! I don't have any links or anything, but I'll go ahead and tag this in case anyone else does and or wants to add on to help you out.

The easiest way for me was just by watching their live performances because you're always going to find IV (guitarist) on the right-hand side (audience pov) of the stage in front of II and then III (bass) on the left-hand side in front of the vesseletes/choir. III is also the taller of the two and is the more animated one. Also, his staple for me is the checkered socks he almost always wears and the question mark painted on his hand. IV tends to wear more jewelry (scythe around his neck is the giveaway + the rings).

As I said, these are just the ways I found easy to tell when I first started watching and getting into them. You might find your own distinctions and then I feel like it just becomes easy and automatic to tell who's who.

#craftysquidz #sleep token #iii #iv #oh iv also helps out with the screamy screams in their live performances so that's another thing too!#if anyone wants to add on please feel free!

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ffn-archivists-corner · 2 years

Text

The situation of fanfiction.net

(Still Work in Progress)

So, if anyone has been around these few past days, new posts about the shaky situation of ffnet (or its outright imminent collapse) has been doing the rounds of Tumblr.

It’s easy in situation like this, while dealing with the threats of something loved (or at least, an important part of our fandoms history), to start panicking.

It’s also true that there are millions of stories on ffnet (without even considering the ones on fictionpress), or try to organize something ahead of time may be the best solution.

In this post, I’ll try to recap what we know so that we can all be aware of the time we had and what we might want to do.

(NOTE: I try to tag whoever mentioned it, but finding each people in the long list of comments it’s a bit difficult; if you want to be mentioned, just let me know where you said it and I will update this post as soon as I can!)

Updated on date 2022/09/21

even if with hiccups, the site IS STILL WORKING (more or less) people manage to post/update their fics or receive reviews/email from the site (even if there are also the people who said the emails have stopped coming in the last months). It’s also true, though, that in the last months there have been cases of days-long delay in this (the one of the last few days is the one which sparked this new fear for the site collapse). I am not personally on ffnet (I may have check 2-3 fics in the last five years there), but I read posts here or around the web about this;

as has already been pointed out by a few, the domain seems registered until September 2028 (link, link). I am not an expert on this, so I don’t know if a website could collapse due to negligence before its domain could expire or not;

as @cuentaprovisional mentioned, new fandoms have been added in the last months. It may mean that there’s still someone lurking around (but it may best if someone who knows about these things could add their two cents);

it seems (need source though), that there has been cases of fic removed for breaking the TOS in the last year. If true, it may imply that there’s still someone lurking around;

on both sites homepage, it seems like there have been recent updates from Twitter. As a matter of fact, they’re misleading in their timestamps. If you click anyone of them, you’ll see that on Twitter they’re date back to January 2021 or even before. And that the last message there date back to September 2021. Even if there’s still some mods out there, it’s still troubling that they have gone radio silence since then;

a volunteer of OpenDoors (can’t find anymore the person who said this) mentioned that it may be difficult if not outright impossible for them to do something about it, both due to the sheer mole of fanfics and the fact that a request should be sent by the owners of the site;

UPDATE: as linked by @tante-bete and @haruka89 (and maybe someone else?) there are repack of ffnet (and I think of fictionpress too?) saved on archive.org (link, link). The good news it’s that they could really be helpful in reducing the work that needs to be done, the bad news is that they seem to be quite unwieldy due to their dimensions. There are people looking into it.

That said, as @ferenofnopewood explained perfectly in their post:

“There is no FF.net lead mission to archive or save it. There is no "I hope FF.net's staff contacts AO3 so the fic can be archived." If we want it saved, it is up to US to do it, and the time to do it is NOW.

Even if you literally go in there and pick a fic at random, EVERYTHING HELPS. Small fandoms, large fandoms, fandoms you're sure somebody else has already covered - doesn't matter. Do it anyway.

Please help. This isn't a huge and co-ordinated effort. There's no phone tree. If you are reading this, I am begging you personally to help. Even if you only archive ten things - THAT HELPS!”

In this vein, I decided to create this sideblog, so that we can try to coordinate and help each other to backup and save the history of fandoms hidden in there. You’re free to download and save whatever fic you love or want, but if you decide to help backup a whole fandom (or a huge part of it), let me know and I will add you in the sections in the sidebar.

P.S. If you think I need to add something or clarify something better, just let me know and I make the necessary changes as soon as I can.

#ffnet #ffn #ffn.net #fanfiction.net #fanfiction history

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nabtime · 10 months

Text

Our Empty Graves XII

Fandom: Danny Phantom / Batman: Under the Red Hood

Pairings: Danny Fenton/Jason Todd (Dead on Main)

Rating: Mature

Tags: batfamily, hazmat AU, Nobody Knows AU, Mute!Phantom, potential ghost king danny, slow burn?, DC means Disregard Canon, AU means AU nothing is exactly the same, Angst with a Happy Ending, Hurt/Comfort, more than canon typical violence, danny is a Halfa and also a Fetch, no beta we die like basically everyone

Summary: They say that Red Hood has a loyal mutt. The man rules his territory in Crime Alley with an iron fist and a guard dog at his side. They say that Hood calls him Fetch, sometimes Fetcher. No one's ever heard him speak. Anyone who's ever seen him says he looks like an experiment gone wrong, that Hood picked him up somewhere unspeakable. They say he'll do anything Red Hood asks of him and he'll do it well. That he's strong and fast and probably inhuman. The girls say he's sweet; quiet but charming in his own way. Rival gangs say he's vicious; that he'd sooner rip your throat out than let you go.

Jason just wants to help him.

Chapter 12: with my eyes wide open im dreaming (darling do I deserve such a break?)

Chapter Summary: Recovery, cooking lessons, and an odd dream.

Chapter Notes: title from With My Eyes Wide Open I'm Dreaming by Patti Page Links: AO3 // Chapter 1 // Chapter 11 // Chapter 13 // Spotify

They got back from Doctor Leslie’s clinic after she’d kicked them out in the early hours of the morning. Danny couldn’t really tell you which day or how long they’d been in her clinic, but he could tell you it was early. Too damn early for anything, let alone traversing the back-streets of Gotham and hoping no one tried to jump them while Red’s hands were tied. He carefully directed Danny down the streets and made sure he didn’t get lost as they made their way to one of Red’s safe-houses. From what he was able to tell it looked like the same one he’d first been brought to, the one he was most familiar with. The one that looked the most lived in.

They both collapsed on the couch and didn’t move for a long while, neither of them dropping off to sleep like they should have- just trying to process everything.

Danny chose to stare at the ceiling, the colors of everything around him seemed so bright- no matter how often he’d had his tinted visor off lately, it was still something he wasn’t used to. He’d... existed, for so long, with everything in shadows and bathed in a sheen of darkness. His face felt naked and vulnerable to the world.

He didn’t want to put it back on, though. Which was a new and terrifying feeling.

He chose to ignore it and bask in the silence of the apartment, the only sounds being the hum of the appliances and the distant hustle of the city. There was a surprising lack of screaming and sirens that usually plagued Gotham, probably from the ungodly early hour. Even the terror of Gotham had to sleep sometimes- the rogues and the bats all tucked away all nice in bed while the normies went about their day.

What a wild place he’d landed in.

He hoped that explosion hadn’t hurt anyone else. He’d been far too distracted by making sure Red made it out okay that he didn’t even think to look for any other casualties. Although, he was pretty certain no one else liked to hang around the carnival themed area of the docks so the likelihood of any others getting caught in the blast was low. But not zero. Whatever the case, it was too late now- the cleanup and aftermath having long since passed. Whatever bodies there may or may not have been weren’t something he could help with now. It wasn’t something he particularly want to think about either. (There seemed to be quite a few things that he didn’t want to think about.)

He thought, instead, about what to do with Red’s hands. As a ghost, Danny had some semblance of accelerated healing. So, theoretically, since Hood was also ghost-adjacent, he could have accelerated healing too. Maybe Danny could jump-start the process? Figure out a way to blast his hands with enough regenerative ectoplasm that it fixed them all shiny and new instead of making them radioactive? He also needed to take care of that poison pooling in the other’s chest. He didn’t like it. He’d never encountered ectoplasm that was so rancid before. Usually you could tell the intent of the stuff by the smell or the taste- some instinctual sense ghosts had to tell one type of goo from another. The stuff Hood had felt like nothing but pure malice. It had no other purpose but to hurt.

It was close enough to ectoplasm to bring the other back to life (if that’s even what did it in the first place) and give Red some ghostly attributes (like purring!) so it stood to reason that pure or at least regenerative ecto would fix it. But would flushing his system with it work? Would it eradicate the poisoned ecto or would that have to be removed first for it all to work? Would anything even happen at all? Would any of it help or would trying to do any of that just kill him all the way? Red had been alive with the bad-goo for this long without much consequence, who’s to say it even needed to be removed at all?

Danny didn’t know. Danny didn’t even have the slightest clue. He wasn’t a doctor. He wasn’t an expert. All he had were questions and shoddy speculations. Nothing he could test. Nothing he would dare mention to Red in case it went horribly, horribly wrong.

It would be fine as it was for now. Probably. Hood would just have to deal with his hands healing at a normal human rate, no matter how long and terrible that was.

They sat for a good while longer. Danny in a slowly growing panic and Red nearly dropping off to sleep right there on the couch a few times.

Then the awkwardness began. The first hurdle they’d have to jump while Danny cared for the other during recovery.

Red pulled himself from the couch with a prolonged groan- movement slow and likely agonizing. He didn’t move further, just shuffled from foot to foot in discomfort and looked into the distance with the most despondent look he’d ever seen on the other man’s face. Danny sat up and studied him, waiting for a cue to guess where he could help.

“I have to go,” Red whispered, voice wrecked from his sore throat and the pure helplessness in his tone.

They had a silent stand off. Hood glared at his hands, then Danny, then the bathroom door just down the hall before he circled back to his hands. He didn’t appreciate Danny’s silent huff of laughter at the action.

Danny rolled his eyes and held up a hand, holding up one finger and then two and tilting his head in question.

Red sighed. “One,” he said tersely.

Danny shrugged a bit, hauling himself up from the couch. Then he stepped closer, looking up into Red’s widening baby-blues with a smirk. Gently, he undid the tie to Red’s sweatpants and loosened them, then stepped back. He waved toward the bathroom and then mimed shimmying pants down using his elbows and then sitting, trusting Hood would get the message without him having to spell it out.

Red squinted at him before the light-bulb seemed to go off. “Fucking genius,” he muttered before speed-walking for the bathroom- happy he could do that by himself at least.

(How he got his pants back on without Danny’s help was a bit of a mystery, but none of the bandages had been disturbed so he let it go.)

Red Hood was a stubborn man. Danny already knew this, but trying to take care of him and make sure he didn’t use his hands only made it clearer. Hood was a stubborn bastard dead set on self-sabotaging his recovery.

He refused help wherever he thought he could get away with it and tried to sneak in doing tasks that he knew he couldn’t do on his own anyway. Danny had caught him multiple times trying to do things he shouldn’t- like attempting to get plastic over the wrappings on his hands in order to do dishes when Danny wasn’t looking. Kudos to him for thinking to protect the wrappings from getting wet, but he was still in trouble because he was putting undue pressure on his broken hands. Danny had also caught the man trying to put on his Hood Helmet™ and crawl out the window! He’d had a very stern “talk” with him after that- Danny threatened to take Red’s hands off himself if he tried that again.

It was all incredibly awkward at first. There were quite a few things you couldn’t do on your own if you didn’t have hands- not if you weren’t used to it- not without tools. And Danny had to be there to help him with all of it. He didn’t mind it- not really. It was a little odd with how intimate it felt, but he liked taking care of Red. That protective part of his core hummed with satisfaction at being able to keep Red healthy and safe. He was also perfectly happy to let Red have as much independence he could manage without using his hands- if he could use his elbows or feet or whatever other appendage or makeshift tool for the task then Danny would let him. He was surprisingly resourceful so long as Danny made sure he wasn’t trying to push himself past his limits.

Their second big hurdle came with dinner.

Danny caught him trying to fumble with cooking utensils in the kitchen. He knew his cooking wasn’t that great, but come on! It wasn’t that bad! None of his food reanimated and he took that as a win.

“Ghoul boy,” Hood said after Danny had thrown a tantrum and pushed him into one of the rickety kitchen chairs and glared at him with his hands on his hips on accusation, “I’m tired of take-out. It’s been two weeks. And I don’t trust you to cook on your own after what happened with the bagels last Wednesday.”

Danny silently scoffed and threw a careless hand to the side. So I’d burned a few bagels. So, what?

Red glared. “You destroyed my toaster and nearly set the apartment on fire. The toaster isn’t even supposed to get that hot, let alone burst into flames that can’t be put out by a regular fire extinguisher. We had to toss it out the window and hope for the best! I don’t even know how you did that!”

Okay, so, maybe it was a bit worse than burning the bagels. But still! He could do something simpler! He huffed and threw his hands in the air. I could pour cereal without setting it on fire! Probably!

“You absolutely would find a way to set cereal on fire and you know it, Spooks,” Red retorted, irritated but also vaguely amused.

Danny deflated a bit before flopping into the other rickety old kitchen chair, scratching dejectedly at the sleek dark wood of the itty-bitty table the chairs surrounded. It sat in a small corner of the kitchen and was what counted for a dining room in the small apartment.

The apartment itself was small and cozy- it felt a little lived in- even if it was still pretty barren. The kitchen was well stocked with utensils and appliances (fancy ones that Danny definitely never wanted to touch for fear of either breaking them or them breaking him), if not always stocked well with ingredients. There were extra blankets and pillows for the second-hand couch- all in bland colors and made of cheap material. It screamed of a temporary place, something put together with minimal thought and expense- always meant to be a safe-house instead of a home. Not to mention the cache of weapons and tools that took up the entirety of the guest room. And the industrial strength first-aid kit supplies stocked in with them. He’d only glimpsed the room once, Hood showing him briefly when he’d apologized about not having any extra space. Danny’d shrugged- he slept in a tree most times, he could stand the couch.

Red interrupted his wandering thoughts with a question he didn’t particularly want to think about. “How’d you manage to be so bad at cooking in the first place? You eat, even as a ghost, so have you just been foraging around the forest all this time, like some undead squirrel?”

Danny huffed some semblance of a laugh before sighing. The question had an answer, there was absolutely a reason he was so bad in the kitchen, but did he want to share it? Show such a sad piece of himself to Red Hood? He stared down at the table as he tapped a slow rhythm on the wood. He couldn’t feel it under his fingertips, even without his gloves on. He debated for a bit before pulling the marker and whiteboard from his chest. He hesitated, fiddling with the cap and making no move to write.

There was a soft hum from Red and he looked up to see the other staring at the ceiling with a frown on his face.

“I’ve always liked cooking,” he said, voice soft and distant. “Even when I was bad at it, even when I didn’t know what I was doing, and even when I was only doing it because if I didn’t then I wouldn’t be fed.”

Danny felt his core let loose a small mourning croon before he could stop himself, the sound not unlike a dove’s churr. He quickly slapped his hands over his mouth (like that was even where the sound had come from) and tried hard to fight off a blush.

Red let out a short laugh at him, his eyes focused on Danny now instead of some long-away point in his past. Red’s grin slipped, though, as he continued.

“Growing up in Crime Alley is tough. Even tougher with a shitty dad and a mom that couldn’t control her drug use. She tried her best, but her good moments- where she was coherent and cared- were few and far between,” he said before smiling a bit. “The neighbors would step in, sometimes, if I bugged them enough. If they were friendly enough. Learned a lot of different recipes that way, too. All kinds of folk can end up down here, on the ground floor of Gotham.”

He sighed. “Really had to learn to fend for myself when I was inevitably orphaned.”

Danny didn’t like the way he said that. Like it had only been a matter of time before he was left to the mercy of the streets. Like it was the expected outcome. Like it was an everyday occurrence. Or- like he had deserved it. Like the circumstances had been his fault. He crooned again, lifting up from his chair and reaching out.

He placed a hand over Red’s forearm, wanting desperately to hold his hand instead, but trying to give comfort where he could anyway. Hood laughed softly at his efforts and smiled at him.

“I wasn’t orphaned for long, Spooks,” he said, using his wrist to pat at Danny’s hand to let him know it was okay. “I got picked up eventually.” And then his face twisted into a grimace, a complicated series of emotions flashing across his face before he shook his head to clear it. “B wasn’t ever allowed in the kitchen, but Alfred taught me all kinds of tricks and tips and dishes to make. I miss it sometimes, honestly.”

Danny floated closer, lifting fully out of his chair to lean against Hood’s side, offering silent support. He didn’t ask, not wanting to bring up bad memories and knowing full well how painful it could be to think back on the good times before you died. Most times it was worse than thinking about the bad times; because you knew it would never be the same. That you could never, ever, go back to those times. Death, even temporary as it had been for both of them, was a force of finality. A curtain closing around your life as you knew it. Dying changed you.

Red smiled and leaned down to press his forehead to the top of Danny’s head where the foggy wisps of his hair licked at Hood’s shoulder. Danny just nuzzled him further before pulling back and picking up the board again. He wouldn’t share everything, but he could share a little. Just like Red had. He tapped the board for a bit before deciding on what to write, appreciating the quiet patience of the other beside him as he waited.

My dad was really bad at cooking- unless it was fudge. And my mom wasn’t too bad at it, but she’d get distracted a lot and end up burning things. And then she and dad would hole up in the lab most days anyway. It didn’t help that they would store specimen samples in the fridge next to the food either. My older sister tried her best, but she was too young for most of the big appliances at first and no one was around to teach either of us most of the time.

He decided to leave it at that. He didn’t want to go into the times the food came back to life. Didn’t want to think about how many thanksgivings and holidays had been ruined from the turkey reanimating and besieging the house or the cookies going up in flames and almost burning everything to the ground. Didn’t want to think about all the times Jazz had burned herself trying to keep them fed with something decent or how often she’d had to beat the blender into submission with the Fenton Creep Stick. He couldn’t look at a toaster without shuddering- probably why Red’s had combusted like that, actually- not after one had tried to eat him alive when he was five.

Red nudged Danny’s arm with his elbow, offering a silent comfort just like Danny had done for him. He also didn’t ask further, letting the knowledge sit between the both of them. Red hadn’t had a good childhood and Danny hadn’t had a particularly stellar one either. It’d taken time and perspective for him to come to that conclusion- about how his parents hadn’t been as good as they probably should have been. And that wasn’t even to mention what happened after the accident.

He caught Red looking thoughtfully down at the main jumpsuit of the hazmat he still wore, and heard the soft murmur of, “A lab, huh?” before Red sighed and slumped over the back of his chair. His huge muscley bulk made it creak ominously.

“Alright,” Hood declared, pushing himself up from the table and attempting to put his hands on his hips before thinking better of it. “Cooking lessons it is, then.”

What? Danny stood fully and moved to stand in front of Red while drawing a frantic question mark in the air. How the hell did he expect to do this without hands?!

Red shrugged. “I’m going to tell you what to do and you’re going to do it. Carefully and with strict supervision. And you might want to go ahead and grab the fire-extinguisher.”

Danny stared. This was not going to end well.

Oh well, it wasn’t his kitchen at risk here. He did grab the extinguisher, though.

“Open up the fridge and the cabinets, Jellyfish. I gotta see what we’re working with here.”

Danny did so, floating a little bit in order to reach the top shelves and ignoring Hood’s soft snicker at the action. Damn tall people. He stood back and watched as Hood went around, muttering to himself as he compared different ingredients- what little they had- and only occasionally asking Danny to pick something up and check its expiration date.

“The andouille’s still good, we have rice, and the spices are all in date- even if they’re not fresh,” he heard Red murmur as he paced around the small space in the kitchen, Danny now floating over the table to keep out of his way. “No aromatics, though. Didn’t have a reason to keep fresh produce. Miracle at all that I even had sausage and broth.”

He paced back towards one of the cabinets, lifting a hand before pulling it back when Danny made a move to lunge and stop him. He grumbled before using an elbow to shift the cans around himself.

“Tomatoes,” he said, nudging a can to the front and picking it up between his elbows to place on the counter, “so creole style.”

Danny would forever be impressed with how much Red had learned to improvise in the two weeks without his hands so far. The man had been put out at first but he was quickly learning everything he could and couldn’t do and what he could manage in more- creative ways.

The table was already littered with several ingredients, ready to be put to use once Red was finally done obsessing over having everything they needed. Oil, sausage, a bag of long grain rice, a box of chicken broth, a bottle of hot sauce and another of worcestershire, and several different spices and seasonings. One was labeled Cajun, so he assumed they were cooking something spicy.

“Fetch!” Hood barked, causing Danny to startle out of his floating and almost fall- barely catching himself before he hit the table. He looked up to see Red grinning at him and stuck his tongue out in retaliation.

“Grab my phone for me, would ya?” Hood asked before turning back around and assessing the bare cabinets yet again.

It had become a pretty common thing between them, Hood trusting Danny with his phone to text and help make calls. It was the only way Hood was allowed to still run his criminal empire- from a distance, and in turn Danny was trusted with the passcode and access to everything. Red had a surprising amount of numbers saved in there- always a person for something or another. Just as many numbers for Grannies around the Alley as there were for the gang members in his crew. Danny knew Hood was trying to build a community- trying to make things better in every way, but it was still astounding to see.

He’d called Nadi early on that way too. Yes, Hood had had to do the talking and Nadi had chewed him out real good before busting down the door to the apartment to make sure Danny was okay, but he hadn’t wanted to let her worry. She’d taken Red by the ear and chewed him out some more after fussing over Danny- telling Hood that the only reason she wasn’t tearing him a new asshole was because he’d already done that himself. He’d been surprised that Red had been willing to let her see him without his helmet- he’d still slapped a mask on but still. And even more surprised that he’d let her know the address to the apartment. It spoke a lot of the trust he had in both Danny and Nadi. He was in a particularly vulnerable spot with his injuries- yet he’d let them in.

He grabbed the phone from corner of the living room that had a tiny little table next to an open outlet with a charger plugged in. Hood had multiple phones- most of them burners- but this one was the main one so it got it’s own special little place. He popped it off the charger and skipped back into the kitchen, unlocking it and holding it up for Red to see.

He nodded and said distractedly, “Call Mama Pourciau for me, please? I’m hoping she has some of the ingredients we’re missing.”

Danny did as told, scrolling through the frankly huge list of contacts until he got to Mama Pourciau and clicked the call icon. He put it on speaker and held it close to Hood so he could talk comfortably. He wondered idly what they’d be making.

Well, he wasn’t about to find out through the phone call because Red was not speaking English while talking with Mama Pourciau. If he had to guess, he’d say French- but it also sounded different to any French he’d heard before. He’d have to ask later what language it was.

He zoned out while watching Red talk, his voice nice as it wrapped around words he’d never heard before- the accent of them pleasing in a way Danny never thought he’d have a thing for. And then the call ended on Mama P’s end and Hood was smirking at him over the dial tone.

He shook his head and gave Hood a sheepish look, floating back over to the living room to put the phone away in order to avoid the teasing light in his eyes.

“She’s going to be bringing a few ingredients by, so keep an ear out for the door. She didn’t have everything but it’ll do in a pinch,” he said and then paused and hummed thoughtfully. “Go find those blankets that Mrs. Almeida dropped off the other day, too. Mama Pourciau’s daughter had a baby a few months ago and those should do as payment.”

Danny grinned and gave a jaunty salute before hopping away to hunt down the downy-soft blankets Mrs. Almeida had knitted and brought over for them in thanks for paying her son’s bail last week. Joao had done nothing wrong and Mrs. Almeida had been beside herself when the GCPD had tackled him and taken him in. Danny himself had gone down to the precinct and haunted the shit out of them in retribution.

Most people in the Alley seemed to work within a complex network of barter and trade, working with each other to cover each other’s needs. At least, now that Hood was making sure there weren’t any trouble-makers to disrupt it they were. And he kept the cops away from things that weren’t their business. Before the Alley had seemed to be a free-for-all. An every-man-for-himself type of place full of cruelty and despair. Now, slowly, it was building into a community. Something beautiful.

When Mama Pourciau knocked on the door, Danny answered with a grin and an armful of brightly-colored blankets. The older woman-stout and dark skin lined with age- had cooed and kissed his cheeks and traded burdens with ease. She hadn’t flinched at all at the sight of his fangs when he smiled. Hadn’t even hesitated to hug his colder body, her warm one smelling like coco butter and spices. She just patted him on the cheek and told him he was a sweet boy with her pretty accent and then told him to tell Red Hood that she’d be happy to send him recipes any time.

He nodded, awed at her response to his monstrous nature and waved with his hands full of groceries as she left. He felt dazed as he made his way back into the kitchen.

Red laughed at the look on his face when he came back. “Komik,” he said softly, shaking his head before gesturing for Danny to put the bags on the table to join the other ingredients.

“Cooking one oh one,” he started. “Fancy cooking, at least, starts by making your mise en place.”

Danny stared blankly and waited for Hood to explain what that was. He didn’t know any French, thanks. He’d barely learned any Spanish in high school before he’d had to drop out. Thankfully, Red knew full well he was an idiot already.

“You gather everything you need, measure it all out, and have it handy for when you’re ready to put it all together,” he continued without any judgment in his tone. “So lets see what Mama P was able to scrounge up and put it all together.”

Danny pulled everything out one by one, Hood naming each ingredient as he did so. Onions, green and red bell peppers, celery, garlic, dried oregano and thyme, okra, and even a small amount of shrimp.

“Ooh,” he said when Danny’d pulled out the shrimp. “I’m gonna have to get that woman something more than blankets for that. Didn’t ask her for any shrimp, sneaky minx.”

Danny had spluttered at the phrase, almost dropping the shrimp in the process. Who the hell called a sweet old lady like Mama Pourciau a minx?

Red laughed at Danny’s fumbling but then mumbled, “Don’t tell her I said that.”

Danny rolled his eyes before miming closing a zipper over his mouth.

“Alright,” Hood said, stepping over to the cabinets and drawers and pulling one open with his elbow. “Time to slice, dice, and measure.”

Danny pulled all the tools they would need per Hood’s instructions, making sure to follow along and pay attention. He was determined not to set anything on fire this time. Right now, thankfully, they weren’t working with heat yet, just chopping and putting everything together. Pulling out things like a Dutch oven and setting it aside. Measuring cups of rice and broth and using little spoons for the spices that were then put in little cups. It was fascinating. It was… nice.

Danny didn’t know cooking could be like this. Slow and methodical and soothing. There was no yelling here- no shouting about sentient hot dogs or being careful with the stove that he was too small to use. There was no uncertainty here- no guessing and guessing wrong about the basics and ending up with inedible accidents or stinging burns. Just him, Hood’s low, patient voice, and the food slowly coming together under his hands.

Partway through, Red had them stop and look for the small radio he kept in one of the upper cabinets, wanting to listen to something while they cooked. He had Danny flip though several different stations before landing on one that played music you might be more likely to hear play from a gramophone- soft and brassy and old. He’d wanted to question it, but watching Red’s eyes close in contentment and his hips gently sway made him pause. Maybe another time. He almost nicked himself with the knife watching those hips.

“We’re going to use the stove now, jellyfish,” Hood said softly as he nudged Danny with one of those distracting hips. “You ready for that?”

He shrugged. Maybe another time he’d be nervous, certain something would catch fire, but with Red showing him what to do and how, he felt pretty confident he wouldn’t mess up so badly this time. He bumped his own hip against Red’s and moved all the things they’d be sauteing next to the stove as the other told him to.

He browned the andouille, no problem, and then spooned it out for later. He poured in the onion, bell pepper, and celery, smiling as he stirred and relished in the delicious smell. Cooking had never smelled so good before- not when he was the one at the helm like this. It was something he could get used to if it went this well each time. It felt far more relaxing than he’d ever thought it could. He was used to the kitchen being a war-zone, full of screaming and fighting and chaos. This was nothing like that here now; just the soft sizzle of the food, gentle strains of old slow jazz, and the low murmur of Red’s instructions.

Hood hummed, pressing close behind him- chest to back, and hooked his chin on Danny’s shoulder. He was surprised at just how comfortable it all was. He leaned back into the embrace, just a bit, and felt his core rumble with a contented purr. Hood huffed a small laugh, but Danny could feel the echoing purr from the other’s chest against his back. Red had them both slowly swaying to the music and Danny had never felt so- warm was the only way to describe it- in his life.

“Garlic now,” Red said into his ear, “just for a little bit. Half a minute about. Till you can smell it good.”

Danny shivered and dutifully poured it in. The aroma in the kitchen was already heavenly, but it just continued to get better and better the longer they cooked. He could see why Hood liked this so much now. Eventually all the ingredients aside from the shrimp were added into the pot- Dutch oven- and all that was left was to wait while it simmered for awhile before adding them in.

It was peaceful and beautiful and if he could bottle the moment up he would. Just the smell of spices cooking on the stove and the rocking dance with Red to soft strings and trumpets. He didn’t deserve such a good moment. Something so painfully human and full of life. He didn’t deserve something so dreadfully gentle. But he wouldn’t tear himself away for the world. Maybe it was selfish of him, but he couldn’t bare to let it any of it go.

And in the end, well, they’d managed to make a pretty damn good jambalaya. Even Red said so.

═════ ◈ ═════

It wasn’t often that Danny dreamed. It wasn’t often that he slept in the first place, his ghostly nature allowing him to go for days without rest, and to dream within those handful of moments was rare. Nightmares, yes, they plagued him almost every time he couldn’t avoid dropping off to sleep any longer.

Dreams were different, though. Softer.

It should have been a nightmare, with what he was witnessing, but everything was distant and fuzzy around the edges. Like he was completely detached from the scene (the memory) he’d found himself watching from a completely different point of view. This wasn’t his memory, but it was of him, of something that often came back to haunt him.

He watched, in remote fascination, as his own clawed hand plunged into Pariah Dark’s prone chest and ripped out his core.

He’d been told by the other ghosts right before the battle, and in no uncertain terms, that taking the Tyrant King’s core was the only way to stop him. That without the original Council of Ancients to seal him away, putting him back in the Sarcophagus would do nothing. The only way for him to be defeated was to End him. And they’d all been fairly confident that Danny was the only one capable of doing it.

And hadn’t that been something? Every ghost that had ever kicked his ass had told him that he was the only one. The only one strong enough to defeat an Ancient King that had ruled over the Realms for thousands of years, that had previously only been defeated by being locked away by a group of powerful Ancients.

And he, an eighteen year old half-breed that they’d previously fought to hell and back, was their only hope.

He ran, at first. Scared out of his mind and fully believing that all his enemies were simply trying to get him to fully kill himself and act as canon fodder against Pariah to buy them all more time. Yes, he’d gotten stronger. Exponentially, every year. Especially after he abandoned the last shreds of his humanity and dedicated his full focus to developing his powers and fighting skills. He had no allies. Only four years of getting the snot beat out of him and a worryingly long list of powers that grew by the week. That wasn’t enough to kill a King. Not alone. Not by himself.

They’d found him and pulled him back, telling him his only choices were to either face the menace or be Ended himself. He hadn’t seen much choice there. They’d reluctantly laid out a plan to help him. They knew all their afterlives were at stake should he fail, but yet no one else stepped forward to do the job themselves.

The weight on his shoulders- his duty as a protector- had always been heavy. Especially when he’d just started out, when all he’d been was a scrappy fourteen year old just trying to survive. Just trying to protect the family that continually left him cold. Trying to protect the town that grew to hate him more and more. And when the GIW had invaded, it grew to protect other ghosts as well. It hadn’t been very hard, with the GIW being as incompetent as they were, but he still hadn’t wanted to see what would happen if they caught anyone. And it wasn’t like protecting the ghosts that hurt him had changed the status quo- he was far too used to saving those that would rather kill him than accept his help. But he gave it anyway.

And now they were forcing him. Telling him that despite all the animosity they’d treated him with, he was their only hope for survival. That he had to put what was left of his life at stake for them.

And he’d been so angry at first. Wanting to rage and scream and not being able to emit a single sound from within his suit. Because how dare they? How dare they pin this all on his shoulders? How dare they demand he save them after everything they’d put him through? After every fight, every taunt, every stab in the back.

And then Vlad, the idiot fruitloop that had started it all, had pulled the Fright Knight’s sword from the ground and transported the entirety of Amity Park into the Infinite Realms.

The people at the edges of his parent’s ghost shield had died. Humans couldn’t survive the Realms for long, and they could survive even less without protective measures like the shield. Not to mention however many casualties had happened when the ground itself had been rent apart with the transition.

And then the bastard had had the gall to tell Danny it was all his fault. That it was Danny’s cowardice that had killed them. Danny’s childishness that had caused everything to fall apart. He’d stood there, all smug and demeaning, pointing the sword at Danny’s chest as he placed the blame on someone else- completely disregarding how his own antics of tracking down the Ring of Rage for his own gain had been the reason Pariah was set loose in the first place. The Ring he still boasted on his finger.

It had never been more satisfying than that moment to punch the ass in his fanged blue face- the safety-goggles Vlad’d died in crunching under his fist.

The man liked to lord his superiority over everyone he came across, but especially Danny. Liked to claim that because he was the first of their kind, the first of the Halfas, and because he had years of experience and knowledge over Danny that he was better, and stronger, and smarter in every way and would always be so. That unless Danny gave in and became his student (his son), he would always, always be just a rash and ignorant boy. He liked to pretend, though, that it was also only a matter of time until Danny gave in. He used the fact that they were the same to twist the knife deeper and deeper. Insinuating that Danny’s path to becoming like him was an inevitability (and he refused to think about that).

But he was wrong; they weren’t the same. They were both Halfas, yes, but that wasn’t all they were. Danny was a Fetch, the ghost of a person still living. The true balance between life and death, a being both alive and dead in an even split. Vlad was a Draugr, a vengeful ghost with a corporeal body. There was still a part of Vlad that was living, however small, which classified him as a Halfa and allowed him to age the way a human would. But he was more ghost than human, even clutching to the last dregs of life within him as he was- claiming in vain he was human. Danny, on the other hand, had given up his life, denying that any part of him was still human despite the truth. Vlad was made from spite and slowly rotting flesh; Danny was made from tragedy and pure ectoplasm.

Danny had grabbed the sword from the cursing man and cut the hand that bore the Ring clean off in one vicious swipe. He’d never been so violent, never taken it that far before. And it had both felt exhilarating and terrifying. He’d shut down all feeling after that, grabbing the Ring for himself and leaving Vlad to scream and wallow in his deserved agony. They’d been lucky enough as it was that Pariah hadn’t taken the Ring from Vlad before that. With it, the King might have truly been unstoppable.

It’d been with the help of his enemies taking on the army, the Ring of Rage enhancing his Wail beyond measure, and the Sword of Nightmares slicing anything in his way, that he’d been able to fell the monster. He’d pinned Pariah to the ground with the Sword and used the enhanced strength of the Ring to dig into his chest.

(The Ring refused to leave his finger, stuck there- and forever making it impossible for him to speak without unleashing a world-ending wail. It stayed invisible most times, but he could feel it. Always.)

He watched, now, dispassionately, as a younger version of himself clutched Pariah’s core within his ectoplasm covered claws.

This was a dream, not a nightmare. He knew the difference well.

A figure appeared to his left, shrouded in a purple cloak and dark shadows, nothing of their face to be seen but deep red glow of their eyes- similar to the eye-shine of a predator in the dark. He knew the figure, but he couldn’t quite place from where. It was a memory on the edge of his mind, but he didn’t struggle too hard to grasp it. This was still just a dream.

The figure said nothing for a time, the both of them just continuing to watch the wretched memory play out. They watched Danny crush the core to dust, watched Pariah’s body melt horrifically slowly as he screamed, watched as Danny pulled the Sword from the King’s body and plunged it back into the ground. Watched as he fell to his knees in despair when nothing happened- when Amity remained trapped forever in the Realms.

“Why this?” he asked of the figure, wanting to look away, but unable.

“A warning,” the other said, voice smooth and even with the softest curl of a lisp at the edges. “A reminder.”

“Of what?” he asked, knowing he wasn’t likely to get an answer. Because that’s how all of this bullshit ever worked. Never any answers, never any real help.

“All will be revealed in time,” the other said, pulling a staff from the depths of their cloak and tapping it on the grass beneath their feet.

And then Danny woke up, disoriented and head fuzzy with sleep, the dream slipping from his mind the longer he tried to think of it, until it was nothing but a disquieting echo.

#naps fics #dp x dc #Our Empty Graves #dpxdc

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