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comfort-questing · 2 years

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Hey! Could your write something on whumpee-turned-caretaker? Like whumpee has the flu and gives it to caretaker while their still a bit sick. How does caretaker react to being cuddles and comforted? Thank you girly!

...She had finally gotten them settled on the sofa in the living room, with the only spare blanket in the house tucked around their still-shivering body. The ticking hum of the space heater winding down on its cycle gave way to stillness, as she leaned against the wall in the hallway, blinking up at the posters they'd placed to cover the scratched paint.

From the sound of their breathing now, they'd fallen asleep at last. She hoped it would stay that way, for their sake and for hers.

She stifled a cough in the crook of her elbow, and then another, at last letting the itch in her lungs and throat have relief.

Crud.

If she got sick she didn't know what would happen. So she couldn't get sick. That determination had kept her going through these last few days of late nights and early mornings, switching cold washcloths and rubbing alcohol for a blanket and back again, coaxing juice and crackers into her half-conscious friend, keeping half an eye on the record of the thermometer she'd written on the fridge. Doctors were expensive, and the drive down the mountain into town was no delight either in this weather.

So her headache and rough throat had morphed into muscle aches and chills that didn't abate with a second sweater, and now a worrying tightness in her chest as she coughed, sliding down the wall to huddle into herself on the floor.

Get up. Get up get up get up...

Everything hurt. So she'd just rest for a moment, and then try again. Time to open another can of soup for lunch, and check the bread for mold.

It felt so good to let her forehead rest on her updrawn knees, her eyelids closing, the ripple of muscle pain through her back and hips easing ever so slightly. She could sleep here, and if they called for her she'd wake up...

Sleep came to her as a dark welcoming tide.

***

She wasn't on the floor when she awoke. That was the first surprise. The second was the fit of coughing that gripped her as she tried to speak, wracking her sore body and making the headache explode behind her eyes.

The familiar dust-musty smell of the sofa pillows came into her awareness next, and she pulled her eyes open at that because what was she doing on the sofa?

"What - "

Her friend perched on the sofa arm next to her, looking down, their shadowed eyes crinkling up with a concerned smile. Their hand caught her hair and smoothed it back from her forehead.

"You've got a fever," they said.

Hearing it said like that, so matter-of-factly, almost broke her. "I - can't," she managed to get out. "I can't be sick, I have to - "

"Oh, come on. I should have known I'd pass it on to you." They coughed into their shoulder, then slid down onto the sofa cushion next to her. "I'm all right now, I'm on the mend. You can rest now, understand?"

They'd given her the blanket, too, and slung a jacket over her knees for extra insulation. She blinked away tears from her tired eyes, curling into herself as another shiver wracked her.

"I didn't even get the - the soup warmed up." She hated the whimper in her weak voice. "Why didn't you wake me - "

They brushed a thumb over her mouth, hushing her. "Well, good thing I'm steady enough to walk to the kitchen today."

She wanted to say more. But their hand brushing through her hair calm and steady was almost enough to soothe the pressure of the headache behind her eyes, and every part of her body was heavy as lead, sinking into the sofa inexorably. She coughed again, and they moved their hand to her back, rubbing gently.

"I'll be fine. Don't worry about me. Just - worry about yourself, or about nobody, for a change." Their voice was soft above her, still a little husky from illness. "That would be a change for you, wouldn't it?"

The heater purred back into its cycle, a faint smell of toasted dust catching in her sensitive nose and throat, and when the next fit of coughing stilled she realized her eyes were closed again. She fought weakly to open them.

"I'm sorry," she said.

"Oh, sheesh," they said, chiding and fond at once. "Go back to sleep."

And so she did.

#sickfic #hurt comfort #whump #whump drabble #thanks for the prompt friend!#twas a fun one :)

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puppetmaster13u · 5 months

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Prompt 179

“Pa, there’s a weird lookin’ cat outside!”

-Said by a sleep deprived Danny Phantom while in Clockwork’s Lair, about a hero displaced in time. Clockwork is in fact amused. Batman is simply confused about the entire situation.

#dcxdp #dpxdc #prompts #Danny uses the fact that other ghosts are afraid of CW to get some peace and quiet #Clockwork is happy to hold and snuggle his ghostling #He’d get out and visit his little baby ghost more but there’s these annoying speedsters in all these different timelines that keep making #knots that he has to detangle before his paid vacation time can start #Danny looks tiny compared to Giant Ancient Clockwork #Ghosts continue to grow with age and Never Stop as long as there’s space #Seeing as they control the amount of space in their lairs…#Batman is going to have the craziest time travelling incident ever #Clockwork decides that he’d make a GREAT babysitter #Here’s the list for the seven children and he’ll come pick them up once he fixes the speedsters mess thanks #(Said after Danny gets his nap and CW gets him to bring his sisters & friends)

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leenfiend · 3 months

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perhaps keith and lance winding down for the night and getting ready to go to bed? a little kiss goodnight for your crush frenemy wouldn't hurt :)

This set them back weeks I just know it

#Shiro is like I thought u guys were friends what happened #Klance #vld #my art #THANK U FUN PROMPT ❤️

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luxaofhesperides · 3 months

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I'm not sure if you're still taking Ghostlights requests, but if you are: Dick asking Duke to take Haley to the dog park for him in order to set up a meet-cute for him with the guy with the weird green rottweiler

And if you aren't, just know that you're doing great and I appreciate the hell out of you

“Oh, shoot!”

Hearing Dick rush around as a frantic mess is not uncommon while he’s in Gotham. There’s too many people wanting to spend time with him that he ends up pulled in a bunch of different directions. Dick’s always in a rush, always busy, always making time for people because he has more love than Duke has ever seen in a person.

Dick’s also got pretty good time management skills after years of doing this. He’s only cutting out a few minutes early for their designated three hour catch-up session.

That doesn’t mean he’s going to do it gracefully, though.

“Almost lost track of the time!” he says, moving to the couch to pick up his jacket. “Hey, Duke, can do you me a favor while I’m out?”

“Sure, what is it?”

“Can you take Haley to the dog park? I usually take her twice a week around this time, but I totally forgot to include that in my calendar this week so I’ve got plans with the Titans just outside the city, and no time to take her out.”

“Yeah, man, of course I can take her to the dog park. The one attached to Robinson Park, right?”

Dick nods, shoving his shoes onto his feet. “That’s the one! Her treats are also in the bag hanging next to her leash. Oh, and she has a friend at the dog park! Don’t be scared when you see him, he’s just green.”

“Oh…kay?”

“Great, thanks! Bye, Duke, I’ll see you later!”

And with that, Dick is gone, closing the door to his safehouse as he dashes into the hall.

Duke is left alone in Dick’s Gotham safehouse, blinking dazedly at the empty space where he once was. He’s certainly a whirlwind of activity when he realizes he’s going to be late. He’s also skilled in just saying things and leaving before any questions can be answered.

Haly jumps up onto the couch next to Duke. They share a look, then Duke shakes his head. “You have to deal with that every day, huh?”

Haly, the good girl that she is, doesn’t say anything bad against her owner and just puts a paw on Duke’s thigh, her tail wagging.

“I hear ya, girl. Let’s go to the dog park to meet your green friend, I guess.”

He has no idea what that means, honestly. Is Dick just talking about a dog that got its fur dyed green? Or is Haly’s friend like… a mutant dog?

Well, he’s not going to find out by stalling.

Duke pets Haly, then stands up and walks to the door. Her head perks up as soon as she hears the jangle of her leash being moved, and then she’s running to the door, looking up at him expectantly. Smiling, Duke slips the harness onto her, then attached it to the leash. He gives her another quick pet before shoving on his shoes and grabbing her bag of treats and waste disposal bags.

He double checks that he has his phone, then takes hold of Dick’s spare safehouse key and steps out into the hallway with Haly. She waits patiently as he locks the door, checks that the lock holds, then runs down the hallway, ripping the leash right out of his hands.

“Haly! Wait! Stop, girl!”

She happily ignores him and goes straight for the elevator, leaving him to run after her and quickly scoop up the leash as soon as he’s close enough.

“Of course you’re a little escape artists,” he says to her, “Just like your owner.”

Haly woofs softly, then stands up and scratches at the doors of the elevator. Shaking his head, amused, Duke pushes the button to call the elevator and wonders if Dick has to deal with this every time they go to the dog park.

On one hand, it wouldn’t surprise him since Dick is absolutely the kind of guy to give in to his dog’s every whims and spoil her rotten. On the other hand, Duke fully believes that Haly is smart enough and cute enough to misbehave only when Dick isn’t around so he never believes people when they try to tell him about all the mischief she’s caused.

Dogs and their owners really do reflect one another. The internet was right about that.

Duke makes sure to keep a tight grip on Haly’s leash once they leave the apartment building. The streets are busy, as they tend to be on weekends, and the sight of Haly straining against her leash, ready to run, brings a smile to more than one face.

He plots the route to the dog park in his mind, then starts up a light jog, tugging lightly on the leash to prompt Haly to follow him.

It’s nice to run just for the sake of it. Haly makes a good running partner as well.

How long has it been since Duke had time to relax and not be prepared for the worst? All the running he usually does these days is to catch up with criminals or run for his life. Being out during the day, moving through the city, without any lives in danger? Genuinely nice and relaxing.

Maybe he can offer to take Haly to the dog park from now on. Join Dick whenever he goes. Create a set few hours where he doesn’t do anything but enjoy being outside in one of the few places where the smog of pollution and chemical toxins isn’t so thick in the air.

He’ll just have to make sure Dick doesn’t agree to something else during those days. It’s still strange to think that Dick could forget to do something involving Haly when he’s such a good dog owner and a pro at juggling various responsibilities and a busy schedule.

Well, they all have off days. This must be one of Dick’s.

The sidewalks get wider once they reach the street that leads to the park. Families fill up the space, walking with strollers in front of them or lined up at a food cart. The vivid green of spring fills the grassy fields that lead to the large patches of trees, marking the edge of Poison Ivy’s territory. Clovers decorate the ground, bees moving from flower to flower.

There are other dogs on walks as well, making circuits around the park or running after toys. Duke spots a cat in a walking harness as well and wonders if he can convince Damian to get one for Alfred the cat.

The dog park is on the other end of the park, as far away from Ivy’s territory as possible. The fenced off areas are separated into big dogs and small dogs, with a helpful guide as to which dogs go where posted at the entrance.

Duke slows to a walk, breathing deeply to help settle his heart rate back down to something normal. Haly walks by his side, tail wagging, as she watches the other dogs run back and forth behind the fence.

She’s still small, just growing out of puppy size, so Duke leads her into the small dog area, carefully making sure the gate doesn’t open enough for any quick dogs to make a break for it. He walks over to a bench and sits down before undoing the harness on her, setting her loose.

Haly licks his hand once, then darts away, barking lightly as she joins the other dogs tumbling around each other.

Amused, Duke leans back at watches as the other dogs sniff her, then do their funny little bowing stomps, moving back and forth before running off so she can give chase.

He figures staying for an hour will be good enough. That should get the most of her energy out, and then they can make the long trek back to Dick’s safehouse so he can pick her up before he heads back to Bludhaven. Pulling out his phone, Duke settles in to wait, keeping half his attention on Haly just in case any of the other dogs decide to get a little too rough.

The first twenty minutes pass peacefully. Haly runs around and the owners of the other dogs give her pets when she runs up to them. One even went over to Duke to offer him a pack of fruit gummies.

Then a loud bark fills the air and Duke jerks upright, watching with wide eyes as a colossally large dog, green and glowing and slightly transparent, comes barrelling down the street, headed right towards them.

He doesn’t have time to yell Haly’s name before the dog is in the fence. None of the other dog owners look alarmed, though, so he watches carefully, prepared to jump up and save Haly at a moment’s notice.

“Cujo!” someone yells from down the street. A guy with dark hair comes running up and smoothly jumps over the fence. “Cujo, how many times do I have to tell you not to run off like that?”

The green dog, apparently Cujo, barks happily.

“And you’re too big for this park right now, buddy. Shrink, boy. It’s time to be small.”

And then Cujo… obeys? The dog shrinks, and instead of being the size of a bus, it’s now small enough to be carried in someone’s arms.

Green dog is not enough warning for all of that. Dick owes him so much for this.

Actually, he’s kind of shocked that Dick never mentioned this to anyone. Surely a giant green dog would get people’s attention. Why is this the first time he’s heard about it?

“You new around here?” someone asks, and Duke turns to see the person who gave him the fruit gummies.

“Kinda? It’s my first time coming to the dog park. I’m looking after Haly, that one right over there.” He points out Haly, who is running in circles around Cujo.

“Ah, I see. Dick mentioned someone new would be coming today.”

Duke narrows his eyes. He’s starting to get the feeling that he’s been set up for something, but he’s not sure what.

“I’ll give you the spiel we tell all newcomers, in that case,” they continue. “Cujo is a ghost dog. Poor thing died during some animal testing, far as we know. Danny looks after him, since Cujo got attached to the kid years ago before he moved to Gotham. He’s a kind one, but very nervous, and we’ve all got an agreement to keep quiet about him and Cujo round this parts. You better be holding your tongue, as well, ya hear me?”

“Sure thing,” Duke nods. “My lips are sealed.”

He’ll just ask Dick about the ghost dog situation and do his own investigation if needed. But Cujo is just a dog, and his owner is just a guy. Nothing threatening, nothing requiring a Bat’s attention.

“Good,” they nod. “I’ll get out of your hair now.” They’re gone before Duke can reply, adjusting the hat on their head as they head back to their group in the back left corner of the dog park.

Satisfied that things are under control, Duke relaxes back into the bench, watching Haly and Cujo tumble around with the other dogs, barking happily. Haly’s still growing into her paws, so she trips and falls often, but gets up without a moments pause, ready to keep playing.

From the corner of his eyes, Duke catches sight of someone walking towards him.

He looks over and finds Cujo’s owner—Danny, wasn’t it?—approaching. Their eyes meet, and Danny offers him a sheepish smile and a wave. His eyes are a dark blue that seem to glow with some otherworldly light, and Duke can swear he sees something shifting around him, as if the air has turned visible and twists around his body like wisps of smoke.

“Mind if I sit with you?” Danny asks, and Duke moves to the side a bit.

“Go ahead,” he says.

“You’re Duke, right? Dick told me about you last week.”

It’s looking more and more like Dick is up to something, and Duke will need to get his revenge. “Did he? All good things, I hope.”

“Aha, yeah, all good things. Um, actually I think I should apologize? I maybe said you sounded like my type so Dick promised that he’d get you here somehow. Sorry if this is messing up your plans for the day.”

Oh. Oh!

Well. That’s interesting.

Duke quietly shelves his plans for revenge against Dick and takes a proper look at Danny. He’s shy, but with a bright smile, glowing eyes and strange smoke curling around him still, and messy black hair windswept from chasing after Cujo. There’s a flush in his cheeks and his long fingers fiddle with the string of his dark red hoodie.

“Don’t worry, I didn’t have any plans today. This is way better than just sleeping all day.”

“Well, I don’t know about that,” Danny laughs, “There’s nothing I like more than being able to sleep all day. That would fix me for sure.”

There’s a loud bark, and Danny’s eyes snap back to Cujo, who is growing bigger. “Cujo!” Danny yells, voice sharp. “Shrink down, or we go home.”

Cujo grumbles, whines, then goes back to being little. The green dog only has a moment to look sad before Haly is tackling him, sending them back into another chase around the park.

“Sorry about that,” Danny says, slouching against the bench.

“It’s all good,” Duke replies. “So. I’m your type, huh?”

Danny’s cheeks turn a deep, charming red. He looks away, then nods and ducks his head down.

“And that hasn’t changed after meeting me?”

Danny shakes his head, then peeks over at Duke, gaze slowly moving up his body until he meets Duke’s eyes. “Definitely hasn’t changed,” he says.

Now it’s Duke’s turn to feel his cheeks burn, flustered and pleasantly surprised by Danny’s boldness. It doesn’t help that Danny is cute, someone he can see himself falling for.

“Good,” he says, then knocks his knee against Danny’s. “I wouldn’t mind getting to know you more. On one condition.”

“Oh? And what would that be?”

“Tell me what Dick told you about me. I wanna make sure he wasn’t sharing an embarrassing stories about me. If I’m gonna make a fool of myself, then I’ll do it myself with no outside help.”

Danny’s laugh is bright and warm and sends butterflies dancing in Duke’s stomach. “Fair enough!” he says. “And you know what? I’ll trade you for embarrassing stories. Trust me, I have so many. Nothing you’ve done can be worse that the dumb shit I do on a regular basis.”

“Woah, woah, woah, confident, aren’t we? Don’t say that until you’ve heard about some of the stupid situation I choose to throw myself into.”

“Please, I’m an younger brother. If anyone knows how to be stupid, it’s me.”

“I’m part of the disaster that is the Wayne family. I think that has you beat.”

“My parents are mad scientists and my dog is a ghost. Try again.” The teasing smile on Danny’s lips makes him want to be reckless, to keep pushing, to go down this path as far as he can. Duke can’t remember the last time he clicked with someone so instantly, to be so comfortable with them so soon.

Damn. He’s gonna have to thank Dick for this, isn’t he?

As if on cue, his phone buzzes in his pocket. Duke pulls it out with an apologetic smile to Danny, who leans back a bit to give him some privacy.

The text that pops up is from Dick. It’s a photo of him and Danny from the side, heads bent close together as they talk with bright smiles. He can just make out the wild red curls of Kori’s hair.

“I’m gonna put jello in his socks,” Duke says cheerfully, already looking around to find where Dick is hiding.

He probably already moved locations, the ass.

“What’s up?”

He holds out his phone so Danny can see the screen. Danny stares at it, then looks around, then stares at the screen again.

“...Is he watching us?”

“Yep.”

“...Should we do something about it?”

Duke shrugs. “I mean, I’m up for hunting him down and tackling him if you are.”

“I can do you one better,” Danny says with a sharp grin. He whistles, and Cujo comes running over, Haly at his heels, and he skids to a stop to sit before Danny. “Cujo. You remember Dick?” Cujo barks, as if answering. “Fetch! Go fetch Dick!”

Cujo jumps to his feet, grows from the size of a pug to a bear, and takes off for the art instillation farther into Robinson Park. Moments later, they hear a yell followed by loud laughter, and Cujo and running back, Dick hanging from his mouth, with Kori, Donna, and Roy following after him at a leisurely stroll.

“I think we’re gonna get along great,” Duke says. “He’s gonna wish he never set us up.”

“That’s the way to do it,” Danny agrees.

“Say, wanna grab lunch together tomorrow?”

Danny blinks, then blushes again. “What, like a date?”

“Yeah, as a date. You up for it?”

“How could I say no? I was promised embarrassing stories.”

He watches as Cujo drops a rumpled looking Dick to the ground, half his shirt soaked with saliva. He dramatically mimes being shot in the heart when he sees them both looking at him, and goes limp when Kori picks him up and tries to set him on his feet.

Then he tries to act very calm and cool as Danny leans against him. “Think he’s gonna follow up on our date?” Danny asks in a low voice.

Duke closes his eyes and tries not to despair. He didn’t even think of that. “Worse. He’s going to tell everyone else, then we’ll have every available Wayne kid stalking us on our date.”

“Guess I’ll have to rely on you to chase them off, huh?”

“Or we can sic Cujo on them again.”

“Or that,” Danny nods. “It’s always effective.”

He’s really going to have to bring his best to the date tomorrow, just to stay a step ahead of everyone else. Maybe he’ll ask Barbara for a favor and get her to lead them off? And if Bruce gets involved, then Duke is fully prepared to flashbang him, grab Danny, and run.

It’s going to be a disaster.

It’s going to be fun.

He’s already looking forward to it, and from the mischievous smile on Danny’s face, he’s not the only one.

#ghostlights #dc x dp #dp x dc #dcxdp #dpxdc #prompt fill #my writing #dick is so great i love him sooo much. most amazing loser guy ever <3 #him befriending danny at the park bc hes investigating the guy with the green superpowered dog thats making everyone nervous #only to find that danny's a sweet kid whos stressed out and doing his best and cujo is a ghost dog who died years ago and only wants to pla #really tugs at his heartstrings and dick from then on is one of dannys closest friends #the other dog park regulars slowly get used to danny and start talking to him too after dick does and also grow super protective #dannys got a whole squad ready to protect him if duke doesnt treat him right lol #waynes vs dog park regulars: FIGHT #jk they just give very mild shovel talks that are mostly 'treat him right hes had a rough life and deserves love and happiness. or else'#thanks for the prompt!!

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gianttol · 21 days

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♡ GT July 2024 Prompt List ♡

#gtjuly #gtjuly2024 #thanks to my smol and friends for sending in prompt ideas :3 #gt #giant tiny #g/t #giant/tiny #art prompts #its gt julys third year!!!! wowowow :3 thanks for everyone who participates < 3 its so fun #im already prepping #take care of yourself frens! dont push yourself to burnout VuV you can skip miss or do the prompts out of order #<3

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kucho04 · 3 months

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My gift for @takao-in-sekai <3 Kuroko and Takao spending time together, featuring some fun wings ✨

I love both characters dearly and the prompts were very interesting! I hope you like it as much as I enjoyed working on it. Thank you @knbexchange for hosting this event :)

#kuroko tetsuya #takao kazunari #kuroko no basket #knb #kurotaka #my children #funny how I have draw Takao multiple times in comparison to other characters #THANK YOU for the prompts once again #I thought about many ideas but went with something summer ish in a wings AU #Kuroko likes to carry his friends(at least those he is capable of) change my mind #knb valentines exchange 2024

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midnight-skylie · 28 days

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I know most of the DBDA fandom probably thinks at paineland at the trope of "x fell first, xx fell harder" is Edwin falling first and Charles now falling harder; because Edwin was obviously shown first to express his feelings.

But consider this-

Charles falling in love with Edwin slowly a little more every day, falling a bit deeper for him every day they spent side by side.

And at some point later- Edwin is crushing hard. Realizing "oh shit, I love him-" and falling hard in a chaotic storm of feeling he doesn't know how to deal with, he's a complete mess.

Idk, I personally prefer the second version more but both options can be great interpretations of their dynamic.

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seiya-starsniper · 7 months

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hello hello i see you're open to prompts 👀

how about #20"I'm just going to lie right here" for dreamling (or any ship you prefer 👀)

happy writing, my dear 💜✨️

HEY SO REMEMBER THIS PROMPT YOU SENT ME FIVE MONTHS AGO??? Apparently it took me getting another prompt to finally come up with an idea for it, so I've gone and combined the two 😄💖 Gentle Prompts Here and Soft Prompts Here (I'll still accept prompts from both because I am a fluff machine)

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

Hob knows something is wrong as soon as his roommate enters their shared apartment and slams the door behind him.

“Morph? You all right?” Hob calls out, pausing his movie and turning to the entryway where Morpheus is angrily pulling off his shoes and shoving his coat onto the hooks. He also practically slams his keys down into the tray on the side table by the door, and Hob winces at the loud clang that echoes through the apartment. He considers asking Morpheus again if he’s all right, but decides to let his moody roommate come to him instead.

Something is definitely very wrong if his roommate is making this much noise. Morpheus Endless is normally so quiet of a roommate that Hob doesn’t always notice when the other man is even in the apartment at the same time as him. Morpheus was so silent and unassuming that Hob had felt like he was being haunted by a ghost rather than living with a real person the first few months they started living together. Hob would be jump-scared in his own kitchen simply by turning around and finding Morpheus there right behind him. He had no idea another person could walk so quietly. The worst time had been in the bathroom, when Hob had accidentally squirted half a tube of toothpaste all over the other man’s black shirt. From that point forward, Morpheus had started knocking along the walls wherever he walked, so that Hob would know where he was at any given moment.

Still, the pale man was an ideal roommate otherwise, if not a little socially awkward at times. On top of his eerily quiet nature, it had taken months for Hob to get Morpheus to even say more than five words to him whenever they were in the same room together. Hob had first thought Morpheus was just disinterested in being friendly all together, but then one night, like a cat, his roommate peeked his head out of his room to the smell of Hob cooking dinner. Hob has since learned to let Morpheus come to him, instead of trying to impress on the man himself.

Hob’s efforts seem to now be paying off, for instead of stomping off to his bedroom to sulk about whatever it is, Morpheus instead makes his way over to the couch and plants himself directly in front of Hob’s line of vision. Hob tries to give his best reassuring smile as he stares up at the pale man.

“Bad day?” Hob asks gently. “I’m happy to listen, if you’d like. Looks like you could use a hug too.”

Morpheus doesn’t answer, he simply sways somewhat unsteadily for a few moments, before he practically collapses onto the couch. The only problem is, Hob is still very much sitting on said couch, and instead of aiming for the empty spot next to him, Hob instead finds himself with an armful of gangly limbs and untamed hair.

“Oof,” Hob grunts as he takes on the unexpected weight. Hug it is, then. Morpheus isn’t heavy by any means, but it still takes a moment for Hob to adjust to having what is effectively an oversized cat suddenly in his lap. Hob eventually manages to wiggle his arms out from under Morpheus, before wrapping them around the pale man and pulling him against his chest. Morpheus immediately takes the cue and buries his face in Hob’s shoulder, shaking like a leaf and failing to keep his breathing even.

“Hey, hey, you’re okay, it’s all right,” Hob soothes, rubbing at Morpheus’s back. His roommate is freezing from the cold weather outside, but he’s quickly warming up the longer Hob holds him.

Hob doesn’t know what it is that’s upset Morpheus so much, but whatever it is, he’s glad that his roommate isn’t trying to deal with it alone, that they’ve come far enough in their friendship (though Morpheus has yet to call him a friend at this point) for him to show Hob this vulnerable side of him.

The only downside to this is that this newfound vulnerability is doing absolutely nothing to help Hob’s teeny tiny, absolutely miniscule crush on his roommate. But that’s neither here nor there. Hob tucks the yearning feelings that arise from their newfound intimacy quietly behind his ribs and focuses all his energy into comforting Morpheus instead.

“Do you…want to talk about it?” Hob asks Morpheus.

A soft inhale. Then a shake of the head against his shoulder. The motion alerts Hob to the fact that his shoulder is damp, and the realization makes his heart lurch up into his throat. He wants to go out and find whoever or whatever it is that’s upset Morpheus so much and give them an introduction to his fists.

“Okay…” Hob continues, taking a deep breath and trying to calm himself down. He’s here for comfort, not to be a white knight. “That’s fine, we don’t need to get into it. Uhm…can I readjust though? This position’s a bit uncomfortable.”

There’s a short pause, and then eventually, Hob feels Morpheus nod against his shoulder.

Moving Morpheus is a fairly easy task. If Hob didn’t know any better, he’d think his roommate had been replaced by some sort of mannequin from the way he lets Hob manhandle him so easily. He seems to be mostly aware of what’s happening, which is good, but it’s clear he’s no in any sort of headspace for conversation just yet.

Eventually, Hob is able to rearrange them so that he’s lying with his back resting on the arm of the couch, and Morpheus is sprawled on top of him. Their legs are tangled together and Hob’s also thrown the large throw blanket over them for good measure. Morpheus, of course, reburies his head in Hob’s shoulder, and Hob takes the opportunity to wrap his arms around his roommate’s shoulders once more, rubbing soothing circle’s into the other man’s back.

“See, that’s better now, isn’t it?” Hob asks gently. “Nothing beats a good hug and a cuddle on the couch when you’ve had a bad day.”

Morpheus hums, but otherwise doesn’t offer any other sort of verbal reply. It’s a start.

“You can stay as long as you like,” Hob adds. “I’m just going to lay right here until you decide you want to move.”

“Then you’ll be here until tomorrow,” Morpheus croaks, his voice clearly cracked from crying.

Hob laughs and moves his hand up from Morpheus’s back to ruffle the man’s messy black hair. Morpheus groans in annoyance and bats his hand away, but otherwise does not move from his chin perch on Hob’s shoulder. Somehow, Morpheus's hair looks exactly the same.

“There you are,” Hob says, his voice fond. “Was starting to worry you’d gone mute on me.”

“No,” Morpheus says. “...I still don’t want to talk about it.”

“That’s fine,” Hob replies, then adds, “and we can stay here until tomorrow, really, if you like. But I will need to pee at some point.”

Morpheus huffs. “I suppose that is acceptable.”

“Can I tempt you with some food too?” Hob asks. “I’ll even feed it to you if you’d like.”

“That won’t be necessary,” Morpheus replies. “I can feed myself.”

“All right,” Hob says, shrugging and shifting himself into a more comfortable lying position. “Need anything else? Want to take a nap?”

Morpheus doesn’t answer for some time, and Hob almost thinks the man fell asleep on him already, but then his roommate readjusts his limbs as well and moves his body downwards until his head is resting on Hob’s chest. Hob wants to cry at how adorable he looks, at how right it feels that their bodies fit together so perfectly, like they were made for each other.

“A nap sounds nice,” Morpheus finally replies, mumbling quietly into Hob’s chest. “And perhaps food when we wake up.”

“Sounds like a plan,” Hob agrees. He already knows he’s going to be ordering take-out for tonight, but come tomorrow, he’s going to make all of Morpheus’s favorite foods for the rest of his week. For the rest of his life, if he’d let him.

It doesn’t take terribly long for Morpheus to fall asleep on him, and Hob resists the urge to plant a kiss in the man’s hair, settling instead for gently rubbing at Morpheus’s back. Hob falls asleep not too long after his roommate, and when he dreams, he dreams of a home filled with warmth and joy and love.

#the sandman #dreamling #dream x hob #hob x morpheus #hob x dream #seiya writes dreamling #seiya write #this is what I'm doing instead of writing my big bang fic oopsies #gotta love the fluff though #thanks for the prompt friend 💖💖💖#sorry I'm 8 million years late with the one prompt tho 😅😅😅

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gemgirl28 · 1 year

Note

Hey Gemgirl! So may I request a "is there something i should know?" With Sukka?

J man!! Thank you for the prompt! 💜

I really don't write enough Sukka. Let's start to rectify that.

is there something i should know?

"Sokka!" Suki called out, entering their small home. "We wrapped up practice early! Surp-"

She stopped short at the sight of her boyfriend wearing his oh shit I'm about to get in trouble smile.

"Suki!" He cried, overly bright. "What a lovely surprise! I'm glad you're home early!"

She slowly stepped towards him, eyes quickly surveying their space. Nothing seemed out of place, but Sokka flinched when she took a step towards the bedroom door.

"Sokka, is there something I should know?" She asked, slow and even.

"Nope!" Sokka lied, his eye twitching. Suki raised a single eyebrow, not blinking as she crossed her arms over her chest. He held out an impressive 30 seconds longer before finally cracking.

"Fine! But before you go in there- its not what it looks like."

"You do realize how incriminating that sounds, right?" Suki asked, swiftly crossing the room to brush past him and into their bedroom. She froze again at the sight before her.

A set of her Kyoshi robes were scattered around the room, as if hastily ripped from a body.

"Were you... trying on my robes?"

Sokka opened his mouth, sighed, and wiped his face.

"Yes, but they don't fit like they did when I was fifteen."

"Obviously. Why?"

Sokka blushed, and Suki found herself incredibly intrigued by it.

"I- I was hoping to surprise you for your birthday and do the set of forms you taught me back then. Robes and everything."

"Sokka! That's so thoughtful." She stepped close to him, wrapping her arms around his waist and sweetly kissing his cheek. She pulled back and glared at him. "But if you've torn my robes trying them on, you have to fix them yourself."

He swallowed, nodding. "Understand."

"Good." She kissed him again. "Let's clean this up then."

Send me a prompt and a pairing!

#I think they've got a fun dynamic #The only couple that should have stayed canon for sure #Thanks for the prompt friend!#ryuslayer #sukka #sukka ficlet #soft angst prompt #send me a prompt

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geraskierfanficprompts · 1 month

Text

Prompt 20

Jaskier is wasted. Absolutely shitfaced. Drunk as a

s k u n k.

Geralt is exasperated, but he can't be too mad at Jaskier. Jaskier's been acting kind of sad recently. Maybe he's working through another breakup. Geralt can be concerned, but he's not angry. He'll just roll his eyes a little and drag his drunk bard to their room and make sure he passes out on the bed and not the floor. Except drunk Jaskier has quite a lot to tell this mysterious new man who came and brought him to his room. Does this man know Geralt? He's sharing this room with Geralt, did you know, mysterious man? Oh yes, dear old Geralt, his bestest friend in the world... He's also MADLY in love with him. Terribly so. Hasn't had a fling in months, not that Geralt has noticed. (And shit.. He hadn't.) Jaskier is just so stuck on Geralt. Has been for years, but lately it's gotten so bad he can't even fuck around or flirt too much without just feeling... sad. But fret not, mysterious man. As long as you don't tell any of this to Geralt, I'll bother you with my sorrowful tale no longer :)

Jaskier wakes up with one hell of a hangover, and a suspiciously antsy and overly-friendly witcher. Geralt's clearly nervous to bring up something.. But what?

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puppetmaster13u · 5 months

Text

Prompt 170

Once again on my Ras & Danny being training rivals thanks to time travel bullshit.

Look, Danny knows about the league of Assassins, but he almost dies of laughter when he realizes it’s the modern name of the league of Shadows. He’s an adult now, has been for a while, he’s allowed to find the situation he’s found himself in amusing. Hell, his sparring buddy who is somehow still alive is laughing too.

And no one else knows what’s going on, okay? This random man walked into their secret base, completely ignored the many assassins trying to stop him, and called their illustrious leader a “Little Bitch Man” and they are now fighting?

The fighting is familiar, but why the fuck is Ras cackling and saying things like “Ayreh Feek” back. Practically saying “Fuck you,” while laughing and oh Pit, they’re Bantering this is terrifying, why has Ras not won yet, why has this man not died yet and- bodies aren’t supposed to bend like that what the fuck-

Ras on the other hand, has One friend, who is immortal like him, actually remembers the shit he complains about, is also down for saving endangered animals, and actually knows how to spar! It’s not a proper spar unless someone loses at least a hand that has to be reattached! And honestly, people nowadays should know that the proper greeting to an old friend is to instantly try to kill the other.

#dcxdp #dpxdc #prompts #Jason & Talia & the Assassins are just standing there in utter confusion #Dusan also standing there: Oh thank fuck his sparring buddy is back we kept losing operatives whenever Father decided to be affectionate #Most of the League is at least Ecto contaminated but the Al Ghuls are Liminal AF #Danny as a teen: Ur a lil bitch lmao #Ras as a teen: Well fuck you too I hope the earth swallows you where you stand #Danny as an adult when he sees his friend: Hey Bitch #Ras to everyone’s horror: Hey Fucker you’re a decade late #Danny: Had a king to kill you know how it is #Talia: Alright Jason time for you to go to Gotham I think there might be hallucinogens in the Base #Jason: No I want to see more of this this is comedy gold #Tiny Damian doing mental gymnastics: Is this Grandmother?????#No one knows how the fuck to describe their relationship- are they friends?? Rivals?? Lovers?? Just too dudes who apparently have known #each other for a Very long time????

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draw-the-squad-like-this · 8 days

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Draw your characters like this! (src)

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luxaofhesperides · 3 months

Note

Ghostlight prompt: Danny and Duke being childhood friends, but Danny tells Duke the moment the accident happens and such cause he trusts him, only for Danny to go radio silent when giw decide to block the town communications in senior year.

So Duke-does he tell Danny he's Signal or not? Up to you-gets worried the longer no contact goes by.

Maybe the away game thing seen in other posts where the sports team still does away games and Danny gets enough good will with star or dash maybe and they send a message to Duke that's some coded phrase and Duke knows shits going down?

(yourlocalcorviddad, it's a side blog so didn't want to send from main sorry)

Danny is not someone who is on his mind a lot, these days. It’s to be expected, considering how distance and their double lives eat up all the time they have to talk. Really, it’s a miracle that they were able to speak enough to learn about their own individual vigilante work, especially with Duke bouncing around foster homes for a good portion of that time.

They haven’t spoke in months but that’s normal for them.

Duke thinks he can be forgiven for not knowing something was wrong. He still won’t forgive himself for it.

“Danny’s gone?” he repeats, feeling numb. There’s static ringing in his ears, his entire world hollowing out.

The guy in front of him looks grim, unable to meet Duke’s eyes. Did he introduce himself? Duke can’t remember, can’t keep his spiraling thoughts straight in his head. “He’s gone. His entire family is gone and we haven’t been able to call for help because… well…”

“It’s those guys, right? The ones in white?”

“You know about them?”

“Danny told me. Danny told me a lot about what he did in Amity Park.”

The guy lets out a slow, relieved breath. “Good, then I don’t have to explain. Sorry, it’s just that it’s not something we talk about, especially out in the open. After the last few months, things got really bad. We know the GIW took the Fentons, but we can’t find out how or why and they’ve got us on a tight lockdown.”

“Then how did you get out?” Duke asks. Another arguably more important question pops into his mind a second later. “Actually, how do you know about Danny and… you know. The other things.”

The grimness on the guy’s expression fades away some beneath the sudden shame and embarrassment. “Oh, that. Well, I dunno how much he told you about his, like, daily life, but, um. I’m Dash. Baxter. I bullied him?”

Dash.

Dash. That’s a name he recognizes.

Danny’s complained about Dash a lot in the past. Since they were in middle school, really. Duke would always get mad on Danny’s behalf about how terribly he’s being treated, how no one would stop such obvious bullying. And every time, Danny would laugh it off and say in that soft voice of his, It’s alright, Duke, really. Having you care is more than enough for me.

It never stopped the bullying, though, but the way Danny talked about Dash changed when they both entered high school. He was still annoyed about everything Dash did, but there were less insults about him, less venting about every little thing that pissed Danny off about him, as if he just didn’t care anymore.

And there is, of course, the most memorable time Danny called Duke about Dash over the summer.

Hey, Danny, Duke had began, only to be cut off by Danny yelling, I kissed Dash?! Or he kissed me?! What am I supposed to do now!

And Duke, despite the jealousy he felt at hearing that Danny and Dash kissed, laughed so hard he cried while Danny yelled at him to be helpful.

There wasn’t any discussion on Dash since, beyond a comment here and there about a funny fanboying thing Dash had said about Phantom. The focus of their conversations shifted towards how hard it was to be heroes or vigilantes, quiet reassurances that they’re both doing the best they can, tips traded about best ways to patch themselves up and get through the night. Sometimes, it felt like Danny was the only person in the world to really know Duke; all his pain and promises, his dreams, everything he was Before and who he became in the After.

He’s missed Danny, but the last message Danny sent him told him that things were getting rough in Amity Park, and to not call or contact him until he reached out first.

So Duke trusted in Danny and focused his attention in Gotham, putting his all into becoming a better hero, someone people can rely on.

He thinks that maybe he should have fallen into the Bats’ bad habits of invading privacy to make sure Danny’s okay.

Too late for that now, though.

“I know you,” Duke says after a long moment. “He talked about you sometimes. Come with me, we have a lot to discuss.”

Dash looks appropriately nervous, but he doesn’t argue.

It’s a tense, quiet walk to the library where Barbara works. She’s stationed at the front desk when he arrives and greets him with a smile, eyes flicking towards Dash in question.

“Hey, Babs, got a private study room open?”

Her gaze sharpens and Duke can’t help the feeling of relief that flows through him, knowing that Oracle is ready to look out for him. “Let me check,” she says, turning towards the computer to click around a few pages. “Study room 8 is open.”

That’s the study room with a working lock and soundproofing. It also has cameras and a mic inside, but all the other study rooms have one too, just for safety purposes. Things could always go terribly wrong when people are locked together in a small room, and having video and audio evidence of what happened has assisted in more than a few cases.

He leads them up to the second floor, past the students studying and the group of young children in the back corner of the library listening intently to a read aloud.

The only occupied study rooms are those up front, closer to the stairs. The back rooms are empty and quiet, the perfect place for a little impromptu interrogation.

“So,” Duke says as he closes the door to study room 8 behind them. Dash sits down as if this is just a casual conversation, but the way his foot taps against the floor betrays his nerves. “Danny’s gone. And somehow, that lead you to me.”

Dash glance around, then leans closer to drop his voice into a harsh whisper. “The Guys In White got some insane upgrades a few months ago and forced every citizen of Amity Park into a surveillance state. The entire Fenton family is gone, but we all know it’s really because they want Danny.”

“Explain the situation in Amity Park some more.”

“Well. It’s like this: we didn’t take them seriously, so they upped their moves and got us trapped. No one goes in or out of Amity Park without good, verifiable reason. We have a curfew and we can be randomly stopped and searched for ectoplasm or exposure to ghosts. Most of the ghosts have left, but a few of the stronger ones hang around to cause trouble to get the GIW off our backs for a bit.”

“So how did you end up in Gotham?”

“I was invited to tour the college. And since outsiders were expecting me, the GIW let me go. But there’s definitely some that tailed me to Gotham, but I can’t find them at all. Even talking to you now is a huge risk for me.”

Which means they don’t have much time to talk before someone comes looking for Dash. His words, paired with everything Duke’s heard from Danny, paint a deeply unpleasant picture in his mind. “Are you going to be in trouble?”

“Nah, I’ll be fine. It’s Danny we’re all worried about. He told me before he got caught that if anything happened to him, I should find you. Tucker helped us narrow down where exactly you are and sent you that text to get you to where we met.”

“What do you think I can do?”

“I don’t know,” Dash admits. “But Danny trusts you, and he needs your help.”

Duke was never going to say no to this request to begin with, but damn if those words don’t make him want to run to Amity Park without waiting for anyone else.

“Okay,” he says. “Okay. I’ll help rescue him and bring down the GIW. You should go now, before they get too suspicious.”

“What are you planning?”

“I got a couple of friends who are good at destroying government property. Trust me, you’ll see what we’re up, we’re pretty noticeable if we’re pissed off enough.”

“Don’t take too long then,” Dash says, standing up, “I expect a good show from you. See you around, man.”

And with that, Dash pats Duke’s shoulder and leaves the study room. Duke doesn’t follow after him. He’s got a rescue to start planning, and the less time he wastes, the better.

In the end, it’s pretty simple. It’s not a hard mission at all when the time comes for them to act, but the amount of data they gather and have to shift through is daunting. But that’s more Tim and Barbara’s forte, so he trusts them to handle it.

Together with Red Robin, Spoiler, and Black Bat, they hit Amity Park hard and fast.

One night was spent learning the lay of the land and every station and lab set up by the GIW. The second night was spent burning it all down and tossing open cages full of green blob ghosts and a few transparent, weakly glowing human ghosts. Stronger ghosts, glowing brightly, joined them in a few places with battle cries and maniacal laughter.

They split up and took down all the bases and patrol stations on their own, sweeping through the city like vengeful shadows.

By dawn, the GIW were in shambles, without any bases or equipment, and rounded up for arrest.

Cass was the one to find Danny and his family; his parents were forced to create weapons for the GIW under threat of Danny and Jazz’s torture. Danny was locked up like an animal and studied. Jazz had restraints on, including a muzzle, and a bloodthirsty rage in her eyes. Apparently, she had put up the most fight and, while being studied for repeated exposure to ectoplasm and radiation, started biting people.

The Fentons are big names in this conflict. Tim makes the executive decision to burn one of his out-of-state safehouses so they can hide and recover in peace, then promptly moves them into it as soon as the EMTs give them the all clear. They’re gone by the time the sun is rising over the horizon, and the curious Amity Parkers that have gathered behind the blockade of police cars have to be reassured that the Fentons have been taken away for their protection, not for further abuses. Even then, tensions are high and the locals are clearly prepared to start rioting now that they have a chance to fight back.

As vigilantes, they’re not meant to interact with cops much. Perhaps it’s simply their experiences in Gotham that keep them at a distance, disappearing into the neighborhood the moment attention shifts off of them. Either way, Duke is hurrying out of Amity Park with the rest of the team on his heels, eager to return to Gotham and follow up on their own leads to make sure the GIW is properly gutted and dismantled.

Duke heads off for the Hatch as soon as they reach Gotham, hoping to shed the suit and finally be able to call Danny. The guilt of not noticing how bad things had gotten rolls through his stomach, and more than that, he’s missed hearing Danny’s voice.

The first few calls go straight to voicemail. Duke leaves a quick message asking Danny to let him know how he’s doing as soon as he can talk.

Then he goes for a shower and to change into civilian clothes, prepared to make his way to Wayne Manor to let Bruce know how everything went. And hopefully distract him from his Disappointed Father/Leader Lecture about taking on missions behind his back, as if Duke can’t handle himself. And also because Bruce has no leg to stand on when it comes to this. He’s fully prepared to throw that entire lecture back into his face at a moment’s notice.

The post-mission exhaustion is hitting him hard and fast. Duke has to brace himself against the wall once he’s out of the shower, resisting the urge to just lie on the floor and sleep there until he starts feeling more human.

Somehow, he gets himself into some sweatpants and a plain shirt, pulls on a pair of mismatched socks, and begins gathering his things so he can get to the Batcave.

He’s in no state to be driving. Maybe someone would be willing to take him there?

Just as he reaches for his phone to thumb through his contacts and see who he can bother, it buzzes in his hand. Duke blames the way he jumps on his exhaustion, then blinks his tired eyes to squint at the name that pops up onto the screen.

Danny.

All at once, his exhaustion fades away. A rush of adrenaline runs through him as he scrambles to accept the call, already pacing around the room so he doesn’t fall asleep.

“Hello?”

There’s a moment of silence, then the exhale of a breath that turns to static over the call. “Duke,” Danny’s tired voice says. “Duke…”

“You doing okay? I couldn’t get to you before you and your family had to leave and go into hiding, but I’ve been worried about you, man.”

“I’m good. We’re all fine, now. Fentons are strong, you know? We’ll bounce back in no time.”

From what he’s heard about Danny’s family, that’s most definitely true. He’s seen the pictures of walls Jack Fenton has burst through with his body. It’ still hard to believe that no one in the family is a meta, outside of Danny.

“You need anything? I can get it to you, just say the word. Anything at all.”

Danny hums, then asks with a playful note in his voice, “Anything?”

“Anything.”

“I need you. How fast can you come meet me? I’ll even pay for express delivery.”

Duke laughs, so relieved at hearing the lightness return to Danny’s voice that he feels weak in the knees. “It’ll be at least two days. I gotta sleep and debrief with Batman before I can see you. It’s gonna take some time to get out of Gotham again.”

“Maybe I can go to you, instead,” Danny suggests. “Fly over and be there is less than an hour.”

“Are you in any shape to be flying right now?”

“I’m fine! Already healing and everything,” Danny insists.

“It might be dangerous if any rogue GIW agents go after you.”

“Well,” Danny says, “That’s why I need to get to my knight in shining armor sooner rather than later, right?”

Duke bites his lip to fight back a smile, blinking his eyes forcefully to keep them from closing under the heavy weight of exhaustion. “Does that make you a damsel in distress?”

“I mean, I did need rescuing, so I guess? I’m not much of a damsel, but I could put on a pretty dress for you. It’ll be like playing pretend when we were kids.”

“Oh, man, I kinda miss those poofy dresses. I think I could still rock on, put it on top of the armor when I go out for patrol.”

Danny snickers. “Signal: the most well dressed vigilante in Gotham.”

“That’s me, baby!”

The last of the agonizing fear that’s choked him since he first talked to Dash finally melts away. Danny’s fine now. Everything’s okay; the GIW are done for and there’s plenty of people willing to look out for the Fentons. This will never happen again.

“Hey,” Danny says, voice suddenly turing more serious. “Send me your location. I wasn’t joking when I said I could fly over to you. And before you say anything! I do need it; Jazz and my parents are smothering me and I just need to get away from everything and pretend all of this never happened.”

The admission softens Duke, makes him shove away everything that tells him this is a bad idea, that Danny needs more rest first, that having Danny fly over alone and without warning any of the Bats fills Duke with anxiety.

He does miss Danny. More than he can put into words.

“Yeah, okay,” he says at last. “Come meet me, Danny.”

He texts Danny the location of the Hatch before common sense tells him to be more careful with his base of operations. Not that it matters, anyways; if there’s anyone in the world he trusts with everything, it’s Danny.

Then he sends the Bats a quick text saying he’s crashing in the Hatch and to not bother him until the sun is fully up two days from now. Oracle gives him a thumbs up emoji, which is a good guarantee that she will personally see to it that no non-emergency messages interrupt his rest and recovery time.

Duke has no idea how long it will take Danny to get to the Hatch, so he putters around, cleaning up the space and straightening it out in an attempt to keep busy enough that he doesn’t crash. Travel really takes it out of him. It’s one of the cons of being born and raised in Gotham: he doesn’t have the stamina to travel outside of it, especially when they were there and back in less than three days.

Thank god for Tim’s many motorcycles and his tendency to see the speed limit as a weak suggestion that can be ignored while on a mission.

Ultimately, the call of sleep is too strong to resist.

One moment, Duke is sorting through files on the Hatch’s computer, and the next moment, he’s face down on a bed with his face shoved into a pillow.

Blearly, he manages to pull his phone out of his pocket and send Danny a typo-ridden text that hopefully gets across the message of might be asleep so just come in, don’t wait for me to answer the door.

He’s out like a light as soon as it sends. The last thing Duke registers is his phone dropping out of his hand and falling against the mattress with a little bounce.

When he begins to wake up, something’s changed. As much as he wants to go back to sleep, awareness comes back to him slowly and Duke forces himself to claw his way out of unconsciousness to figure out what, exactly, is bothering him so much. Until he figures out what’s changed in the room, he won’t be able to sleep because he’ll be worried about someone breaking in.

His mind comes back online long before his body does. It’s only when he tries to move that Duke realizes he’s no longer alone on the bed; there’s someone wrapped up in his arms, body temperature a little too cool to be a normal human.

Blinking open his eyes, Duke looks down at the head of messy black hair and feels Danny’s soft breath ghost across his chest.

“Danny?” he manages to say, voice rough with sleep.

Danny hums and doesn’t move.

“Hey, look up. Let me see if you’re really alright.”

“Mmm, no,” Danny mumbles, burrowing his face into Duke’s chest some more. “‘m sleepy.”

A good argument. Duke is also sleepy.

“Fine,” he says, “Check in the morning, then. G’night, Danny.”

“Night, Duke. Thanks for saving me.”

He tightens his grip on Danny, contentment burning warm in his chest. “Always, Danny. I’ll always save you.”

That’s why he’s a hero, after all. To save others, to reach a hand out to everyone the way he needed when he was younger. To keep the people he loves safe. To make sure Danny always finds a way back to him.

This is what makes all the pain of this lifestyle worth it.

Danny makes everything worth it.

(@yourlocalcorviddad tagging to make sure you see this!)

#ghostlights #dcxdp #dpxdc #dc x dp #dp x dc #prompt fill #my writing #i thought up a whole backstory to the duke/dash kiss (accidental. embarrassing for both parties) but it didnt fit w the rest of the fic so #its not included. i can include it in a rb if u want tho!!#my sleepy boys..... they go thru so much but at the end of the day they always feel at home with each other #childhood friends duke/danny is so important to me #also couldnt think of a coded phrase sorry. now we just have dash walking up to duke like HEY. HELP DANNY. and duke went with it #thanks for the prompt!!

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tennessoui · 5 months

Note

Kit! I'm obsessed with your writing!

For the prompt list: 25!

(prompt list)

i don't think i've ever done this prompt/this combination!

25. librarian/avid reader au (sort of)

(2.6k)

As a Jedi who rarely goes undercover, Obi-Wan is used to the occasional stare. Citizens of the Republic are all too often fascinated by the Jedi, and Obi-Wan knows he looks like a holo-perfect one. His choice of wardrobe rarely deviates from Jedi standard, and he’s been told he radiates the sort of complete inner peace that people associate with Jedi. It’s all very flattering and it mostly means that it is impossible for him not to be made as a Jedi the moment he steps out of the Temple.

So he’s rather used to the occasional stare from civilians. It’s almost to be expected.

He is much less used to that sort of attention within the Temple.

Especially within the Archives, where general practice and observation of decorum demands that all who are present must keep their noses out of everyone else’s business. Jedi do not come to the Archives to chat. They come to research, to learn, to study.

They certainly do not come to the Archives to gawp at other more respectable Jedi.

Obi-Wan tries to convey this in the glare he sends across the cavernous reading room to the padawan currently watching him from between the stacks of datapads.

It must work because the padawan’s eyes widen and then he ducks out of sight, disappearing in a flash of lilac robes, the color of fabric denoting an Archival padawan.

Huh.

He’s never drawn the ire of the Archival Jedi before, and he doesn’t quite understand what he could have done now. After all, he is waist-deep in a research project for Grandmaster Yoda—he is in the Archives almost every day of the week and makes a point to abide all of the Archive’s customs and rules.

When Obi-Wan leaves a few hours later, daily notes carefully tucked away in a bag and two datapads on loan, he checks with the droid that scans the serials on the ‘pads, but the droid has no record of Obi-Wan Kenobi possessing an overdue ‘pad or flimsi-book.

It’s strange.

But then, padawans are strange creatures. Probably why Obi-Wan doesn’t think he’ll ever have one himself.

—-------------

Three days later, he returns to the Archives, one datapad in his bag for return.

It’d looked promising on the shelf, a database containing different accounts of the oral history of Jedha, but upon further perusal, it had been useless to his needs. What Obi-Wan was researching—what he needed to find were descriptions of the earliest Jedi on Jedha. The growth of two factions inside that temple, told from an outsider’s point of view.

What he needed to find was a description of the beginning of the Sith, and that was proving difficult.

He deposits the datapad at the droid’s counter, tapping his fingers along the surface for a moment in thought before he turns to stride deeper into the Archives. He supposes—there are planets outside of Jedha with histories heavy in Sith ideology. He does not have to start with Jedha, even if that’s where the Sith Order began.

He can pull a list of the most notorious Sith lords; he can note down their homeworlds, perhaps request Council permission to travel to those planets. To understand the past, one must understand the present too—or the nearer decades of history at the very least.

It’s a place to start, anyway.

Two hours later, he has neatly copied down the names, titles, and homeworlds of six different Sith lords.

And then he runs into a problem. His search of the Sith Lord Plagueius results in a short missive from the database:

>> User: OWKenobi, ACCESS has been denied. Your activity has been flagged as SUSPICIOUS.

Obi-Wan’s eyebrows furrow, and he looks around himself, half wondering if anyone else is experiencing the same sort of problem.

But the group of Initiates closeby seem to be carrying along fine, giggling quietly to themselves as they pick at the keyboards in front of them.

Obi-Wan frowns and turns back to his own keyboard, deleting the name of the Sith lord and typing in another’s. Darth Feindan, a ruthless Sith who had lived close to five hundred years ago, known as the ghost of the Outer Rim and known for—

>> User: OWKenobi, ACCESS has been denied. Your activity has been flagged as SUSPICIOUS.

Alright. Fine. Darth Derritus. He had risen to power a thousand years before, because of—

>> User: OWKenobi, ACCESS has been denied. Your activity has been flagged as SUSPICIOUS.

“What?” Obi-Wan murmurs to himself, putting down his stylus finally to stare at the locked screen.

When he drags the cursor across the screen, a new message pops up.

User: OWKenobi, your account has been LOCKED. Please see SYSTEM ADMIN for SUPPORT.

He blows out a shocked, annoyed breath, standing from his desk. Alright. Obviously there’s been some sort of mistake, and Obi-Wan can sort of understand what’s happened. The Sith are not much of a threat to the Jedi Order in this day and age, but they’re still considered rather…taboo.

Obviously, his purely academic interest was flagged as suspicious because of the nature of some Jedi attitudes towards the remnants of the Sith.

All he’ll have to do is talk with the Archival staff and get his access back. Perhaps Jocasta Nu is present today. He will tell her of the error, that he has been assigned a research project by the Grandmaster Yoda, and she will straighten things out.

Yes, she’ll handle it completely.

Only it’s not Master Nu behind the Archival desk when Obi-Wan approaches the front entrance.

It’s the same lilac-clad padawan that Obi-Wan had caught glaring at him all those days ago.

And to make matters worse, the boy is glaring at him again, watching him approach with his arms crossed over his chest.

Obi-Wan fights the urge to glare back. He is an accomplished Jedi Knight, and this is a youngling.

Well, not a youngling. He is obviously a senior padawan, braid long enough to reach past his shoulder and rest over his heart. Obi-Wan would put him at perhaps eighteen, perhaps twenty. There’s something still rather boyish about his features, despite the overall pleasantness of his dark eyes, soft lips, apparent cheekbones.

Though that just may be the childish scowl he’s wearing as Obi-Wan approaches. As soon as he gets to the counter, however, the boy drops his eyes to the book in front of him as if it’s suddenly the most interesting thing in the world. “Hello,” Obi-Wan says, because he is an accomplished Jedi Knight who is capable of keeping annoyance out of his tone. “I seem to have run into a problem with my research.”

“Oh?” The senior padawan says, sounding somehow both insouciant and insolent. Obi-Wan bites on his tongue so he cannot say any of the first five things that pop into his mind. “Yes,” he says instead. “The problem being that a system administrator seems to have locked me out of my account.”

The system administrator in question turns another page in his book. “What were you researching?”

“Information that I as a Jedi Knight have the right to access,” Obi-Wan snaps, irritation seeping into his tone despite his best abilities. “Now can you please give me back my account permissions, padawan—” he breaks off and cranes his head to look at the nameplate on the desk. “—Skywalker so that I can get back to work?”

Padawan Skywalker shuts his book with much more force than is required as he turns his face up to glare at Obi-Wan. “You’re researching the Dark Side.”

“I’m certainly trying my best to,” Obi-Wan replies drily. “It would go a lot faster if you would unlock my account.”

“Why are you researching the Dark side?”

“Because I’m deliberating the benefits of Falling and would like to understand their position on universal healthcare for Dark side users before committing, padawan. Now, could—” “You’re not funny,” Padawan Skywalker says furiously, lips suddenly pinched white, taking his book and his bag and turning away.

Obi-Wan watches him go with his mouth open.

Well, he supposes that means he must put a pin in researching the Dark side for the moment.

Good thing he has just stumbled upon another subject worth investigating.

—--------------------

He feels rather sheepish the next day when he returns to the Archives with a cup of take-away caf in one hand and folded piece of flimsi in the other.

Thank the Force Padawan Skywalker is behind the front desk once more.

Damn the Force that Padawan Skywalker is behind the front desk once more.

He’s leaning with his head on the palm of his hand, pushing his stylus around on a blank sheet of paper with the Force as his other fingers drum restlessly over the protective covers of the datapads near him.

“Does your master allow you to use the Force in such a needless way, padawan?” Obi-Wan is saying automatically before he can bite his own tongue off which really would have been preferable. Anakin Skywalker lets the stylus drop and glares up at him as if he thinks so as well. “What are you doing back here?” He says, an accusation.

Obi-Wan, because he may be more of a youngling than he gives himself credit for, says, “This is a public place.”

And Anakin Skywalker, who is every inch a nineteen year old child, sneers and replies, “Maybe for people with account access,” which really just makes Obi-Wan want to close his eyes and take several deep breaths and then pinch at the bridge of his nose.

But he cannot do that, because he’s holding a piece of flimsi paper in one hand and a cup of apology caf in the other one.

So instead he places the caf on the counter and pushes it closer to Anakin. “I didn’t recognize you,” he says before Anakin can decide to throw it at him or push it away or point out the sign at the entrance to the Archives that says, in very bold letters, NO FOOD OR DRINK PLEASE.

Thankfully, Obi-Wan’s words throw him off guard. “What?”

“Yesterday,” Obi-Wan says patiently. “I didn’t recognize you nor your name. I’m sorry, Anakin.”

Anakin blinks. For the first time in ten years, Obi-Wan is treated with the sight of the boy’s face without a glare or sneer or unpleasant expression. He’s all wide-eyed disbelief, slightly parted lips, dark eyelashes, darker brows, creased in confusion.

Obi-Wan suddenly and very intently misses the sneer. At least then the boy was too annoying to be considered attractive.

He’s much too young to be considered attractive now, Obi-Wan reminds himself rather pointedly.

And he’s still annoying.

“It’s been ten years,” Anakin points out. His presence in the Force has turned rather…shy, akin to a blush as he reaches out and takes the caf from the counter, curling both hands around the cup. “And we never met.” “No,” Obi-Wan agrees. “But we should have. We would have shared the same master, if the Force were kinder.”

And they really should have—Obi-Wan had been Knighted at the age of twenty-three. Two years later, his old master went on a mission with his old master to Naboo. When they’d ended up on Tatooine instead, Qui-Gon Jinn had found a stray he’d wanted to adopt, a little boy from the desert. And when he’d been murdered only a few days later, Yan Dooku had stepped in and taken the boy as his padawan.

Up until he left the Order four years ago.

“Yeah, well,” Anakin mutters, shoulders falling down and in slightly. “It is what it is.”

The rumors are impossible to escape, and Obi-Wan admits that they’re…intriguing. That Dooku didn’t just leave the Order four years ago, but that he Fell. That he succumbed to the Dark Side after years of fighting against it. That studying the Dark had become a fevered pastime of his in the last few months before he Fell. Before he left.

Before he left his padawan behind.

“Lilac suits you,” Obi-Wan blurts out, wholly without meaning to. The boy had just looked so despondent for a moment, so pinned and small.

He has not had an easy lot of it, one master dead at the hands of a Sith after only a few days in his company and the other giving him up after several years to become one.

No wonder he’d been so suspicious of Obi-Wan’s research. The poor boy probably sees the potential for Sith in everyone’s shadows. Obi-Wan knows he would, if it were his master who Fell.

“Um,” Anakin says, and his cheeks flame red. Obi-Wan’s own darken in response. “Thank you.” He darts his eyes from Obi-Wan’s face and then back, as if he doesn’t want to look away for long. “Master Nu took me on after my master—left. She says I could become an Archival Knight within a few years.”

“I’m glad to hear it, Anakin,” Obi-Wan says, and he finds that he means it. Despite the boy’s terrible customer service. “And speaking of the Archives, padawan, I thought you might like to see this.”

He unfolds the piece of flimsi with a flourish and places it down on the counter between them. Anakin glances down at it and then back up, as if checking to make sure Obi-Wan would like him to read it.

Obi-Wan gives him an encouraging nod. Padawan Skywalker seems like the sort of padawan to thrive under encouragement.

“Please reinstate Jedi Knight Obi-Wan Kenobi’s Archival account access, as I as Grandmaster of the Jedi Order have given him leave to research a topic of great importance to me: the nature and nurture of Dark side use on Jedha, coordinates….” Anakin trails off, and then looks up at Obi-Wan again, eyebrows furrowed. “Yoda doesn’t talk like this, everyone knows that. Put more effort in your counterfeiting, you should have, Knight Kenobi.”

“Grandmaster Yoda did not write that,” Obi-Wan corrects. “I did. However, he did sign it,” he gestures to the edge of the flimsi.

But Anakin does not look impressed. He also does not look like a boy who is about to give Obi-Wan access to his accounts. “How do I know you didn’t just forge his signature?” “Because that’s the imprint of his hand,” Obi-Wan says incredulously. “And I do not have claws.”

“It looks like a pigeon’s foot,” Anakin studies the flimsi for another second before pushing it away. “I’m sorry, I can’t accept this. It’s obviously a fake.”

Obi-Wan had watched Yoda dip his claws into the ink for the signature himself. His irritation comes rushing back in a tidal wave of rage. “What.” Padawan Skywalker shrugs and sips his caf. “Sorry, Knight Kenobi. Thank you for the caf though.”

There’s a fucking smirk at the corner of his mouth. His eyes are fucking twinkling.

Obi-Wan has never wanted to strangle someone more. “You don’t deserve that caf,” he tells him lowly, grabbing up the flimsi and crinkling it in his fist.

“Oh?” Padawan Skywalker says. “Was it a bribe? I thought it was an apology for being a dick yesterday.”

It was both actually.

“Padawan Skywalker,” Obi-Wan says, closing his eyes and exhaling through his nose, reaching for calm. “I need access to those texts on the Dark side for important research.” “Knight Kenobi,” Anakin says in the same tone. “I cannot give you access to those texts while your account is under investigation for suspicious activity. However there are other titles you may find useful that you can access while you wait for the Archival staff to conclude their investigation, and I would be happy to point you towards them, should you like.” Obi-Wan’s teeth ache from clenching his jaw so tightly. “Fine,” he snaps. “What do you have?” “Methods for Mindful Meditation by Master Muinollie comes to mind,” Anakin blinks up at him with a beatific smile. “It’s currently on loan to the crechèmaster, but I can put you on the waitlist. Think of it like an exercise in patience.”

Obi-Wan lets out an audible growl and turns away before he can do something stupid like throttle his grandmaster’s old padawan.

It's almost as tempting as the boy looks when he smiles.

#asks #prompt fill #archivist anakin au #obikin #padawan anakin: i think we're in love with each other #his friend: i think he wants to kill you actually #padawan anakin (adrenaline junkie): god i would love for him to try. im gonna keep annoying him until he pushes me up against a wall #what anakin knows and obi-wan doesnt is that his account will get access back automatically in like three days #anakin just wants obi-wan to come back and say hi again #so he doesn't have to know that yet.#but also he originally blocked him because he ws being suspicious #and padawan anakin stands by that thanks very much

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jamietarttsnorthernattitude · 3 months

Note

ooooh if you’re still taking those prompt drabble requests, i would absolutely ADORE to see you tackle “they can’t hurt you any more” 🩷

(drabble, uh, not so much) from this prompt game.

Almost a year of early morning training had conditioned Roy that when his phone vibrated at 4 am, it was likely his alarm. But this morning, it wasn’t his alarm, no, someone was calling him. Dread filled his stomach. There was no good reason for anyone to call him this early. His brief hope that that was some terrible accident and Ruth was being called to work was when he saw the name on the caller ID.

Jamie Tartt.

“Jamie?” Roy answered on the third try, his fingers missing the little green button the first two tries.

There was no answer on the other line. Dread crawled up Roy’s spine when he heard rustling, then finally, Jamie’s voice reached his ears, distant and muffled.

“Get the fuck out!”

Roy wasted no time pulling on trousers, and his boots, and the phone was on speaker phone in case there was more to hear.

Roy wished there wasn’t more to hear or Jamie come on the line.

The unmistakable sounds of a fight reached through the phone louder than a siren.

Fists connected with flesh.

Pained grunts filled the speaker.

Furniture splintered and broke.

All the while, Roy prayed to hear Jamie’s voice again.

The phone connected with the Mercedes Bluetooth as Roy threw the car into drive, thankful for the empty streets as he sped through West London towards Jamie’s house.

“Jamie? Please, Jamie, say something,” Roy begged.

Instead, Roy heard laughing, but it wasn’t Jamie’s laugh. It wasn’t the laugh that Roy’s had come to recognise in a group of rowdy footballers, the laugh that relaxed him when he’s worried, the laugh that made him smile even when he was in a shit mood. No, it was a laugh that sent shivers down Roy’s spine. A laugh that Roy wondered how many times meant danger for Jamie.

Roy hung up and called 999 and prayed he wouldn’t be too late.

The first thing Roy heard when he entered Jamie’s house was deadly silence.

Roy expected screaming. He expected more sounds of a fight. He expected chaos. But what met him was an alarming quiet.

“Jamie?” he yelled, his voice cutting through the air like a knife. “Jamie?”

The first thing Roy saw when he entered Jamie’s living area was destruction.

Roy expected chairs overturned. He expected broken tables. He expected chaos. But what met him was even worse than that.

“Jamie?” he yelled, again, frantically scanning the destroyed room. “Jamie?”

The first person Roy saw when he finally laid eyes on someone was James Tartt.

Roy expected Jamie to be waiting for him. He expected the men to still be fighting. He expected Jamie would need his help. But what met him was a seemingly unconscious James Tartt and a missing Jamie.

“Jamie?” he yelled again, stepping over debris to move throughout the room. “Jamie?”

“Roy?”

The voice was little more than a croak but at that moment Roy couldn’t think of a better sound. Roy skidded to his knees in front of Jamie, who was on his hands and knees on the other side of the couch. Roy guided him to sit with his back against the glass walls that led to the garden, knowing Jamie would feel safer if he could see the room, see everyone who came in, see his father still unconscious by the kitchen table.

“It's okay, Jamie. He can't hurt you.”

“I didn’t, I didn't, I didn’t mean to,” Jamie stuttered as he shook his head back and forth, not making eye contact with Roy, only staring at his father’s body.

“Hey. I know, it’s okay,” Roy said, moving his body in between Jamie’s eyesight and James.

Roy’s eyes ran over Jamie’s body, looking for wounds or injuries. The footballer was curled into himself, seemingly smaller than his frame. There was swelling and redness that Roy knew would bloom into bruises and cuts bright red against too-pale skin. Roy wondered at the damage hidden beneath Jamie’s clothes and feared the emotional damage hidden beneath the pliant personality.

“Hello? Did someone call 999?” came a shout from the entryway.

Roy had left the front door open, hoping help would arrive soon after he did.

“Back here,” Roy stood and yelled.

A man and a woman came into the room then, each carrying a large bag. They eyed Roy and Jamie but stopped at the unconscious man first. The male paramedic said something into his radio but Roy couldn't catch it. Roy held his breath as they knelt next to a prone James Tartt and checked for a pulse. Maybe Roy should have done that, but hadn’t been able to muster a care at the time when Jamie was potentially injured. Still, Roy exhaled with relief when they found one. James Tartt might not deserve to live in this world, but Roy didn’t want Jamie to have to deal with the pain of being the one to remove him from it.

“Roy, Roy,” Jamie said quietly, hands desperately grabbing at Roy until he bent down and held Jamie’s hands in his own.

“He can’t hurt you anymore. It’s okay, just close your eyes. I’m right here, I’m not leaving you.”

Jamie did as he was told, but Roy doubted he could do more than follow Roy’s orders right now. Still, Roy moved his body to block the view of the paramedics.

“It's okay, you’re okay, it's gonna be okay,” Roy repeated, rubbing a thumb across Jamie’s fingers, careful of the raw and bleeding knuckles.

“I didn’t, I didn't mean to,” Jamie

A noise behind Roy startled him, as the paramedics moved the loaded gurney from the sitting room towards the door, towards the awaiting ambulance, towards a hospital.

“Fuck off,” James said behind him.

Jamie’s body trembled under Roy’s hands at his father’s voice.

“This ain’t over, Jamie. Don’t forget where you fucking came from, don’t you fucking forget–”

“Get him the fuck out of here,” Roy turned and stood faster than he thought his knee could move him, almost knocking a chair over as he rose, not that it would have mattered in the mess.

Roy didn’t turn back around until he watched the gurney roll through Jamie’s front door into the cold morning, James yelling the entire time. Before Roy can turn back to Jamie, the female paramedic stands in front of him.

“We should take a look at him,” she nods at Jamie.

Roy turned to examine Jamie again himself. The cuts looked superficial, but Roy worried Jamie wasn’t simply in shock but had suffered a concussion. The erratic breathing could be from nerves, or it could be due to broken ribs. Could Jamie stand? Could he walk? All questions Roy needed answered before he would begin to think about Jamie being physically okay.

“They’re just going to check you out, Jamie, make sure you don’t need to go to hospital.”

“No, no, hospital,” Jamie said, eyes wide and scared. He stood quickly and Roy thrust an arm to steady him. “I’m fine, I’m fine.”

“Mr. Tartt, we should really make sure you’re alright.”

“Roy,” Jamie pleaded, his fingers digging into Roy’s arm.

“The police will want to speak with him when we’re done,” the paramedic warned.

She heard the threats from Jamie’s father, smelled the alcohol on his breath, cleaned the matching gashes on his bloody knuckles.

“Thanks,” Roy said, wishing he could imbue just how much he meant it. “I’ll make sure he’s checked out.”

Whether by Ruth or someone at Richmond, Roy planned to make sure Jamie was checked out head to toe. The woman took one last look at Jamie before she pulled a couple ice packs and some butterfly bandages from her kit, leaving them on the table with a thanks from a grateful Roy. Roy guided Jamie to sit at one of the chairs at the kitchen table, grateful he wasn’t limping but nervous as to how unsteady he was on his feet.

The antiseptic smell the woman left behind still lingered in the air when a police officer appeared in front of Roy.

“We just have a few questions for Mr. Tartt.”

“Is he under arrest?”

“No, we just need to ask him a few questions.”

“I don’t think he’s in the proper head space right now to answer any fucking questions. You heard his father, Jamie was just defending himself.”

“Maybe. But we just need–”

“The only need I give a shit about right now is what Jamie needs, and that’s not to talk to you. If you have any questions, you can contact Richmond’s legal counsel, Dana Heinen, if you need her number, fucking Google it. Now get the fuck out.”

Roy followed the reluctantly leaving officer to the front door, looking back at Jamie as he did. He needn’t worry about Jamie going anywhere. Roy was unsure the younger man even breathed the short time he was gone.

“They’re gone,” Roy told Jamie, pulling his phone from his pocket to call Ruth. “It’s just us.”

“I’m sorry,” Jamie said, the dam finally broke open as tears fell freely from Jamie’s red rimmed eyes.

Roy quickly canceled the call, pulling another chair as close to Jamie as possible and placed his hands on Jamie’s knees. “Jamie you have nothing to be sorry for.”

“I let him in, I, I forgave him. For what? I’m so fucking stupid, Roy, why the fuck would I ever think he could change?”

Roy pulled Jamie into a hug, careful of any injuries hidden by the naked eye and rubbed his back as he whispered to him, “It’s okay, it’s okay, it’s okay.”

Jamie latched onto him like a life raft as he sobbed on Roy’s shoulder.

“It’s okay, he can’t hurt you anymore.”

#jamie tartt #roy kent #fuck jamie's dad #cw abuse #cw violence #thank you my lovely lovely friend :)#whump #whump prompt ask game #ask box is always open #sighonaraa #prompt #whump prompt #prompt fill

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