#a duck writes
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Sharing this in its own post. See here for context - basically a scene in Job's basement "planning" what to do with the kids... like most of their plans it is lacking in details, but makes up for that with longing glances. (i guess i write fic now??)
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I'm torn, because this conversation could have happened in the cellar, or it could have been a speed-run on the way back from seeing God talk to Job. Anyway, I ended up writing the first scenario. Feel free to fill in the blanks afterward with any, um, more physical activities you like, you degenerates (affectionate).
Aziraphale's First Magic Trick (or, how Crowley unwittingly starts the career of The Amazing Mister Fell, an act which will have Repercussions)
Aziraphale is very full. He's never been fuller. Although he has no reference point for his own stomach, he is starting to suspect that a human would never consume an entire ox. By oneself. In one sitting.
He glances over at Crawley who seems to be completely enjoying himself, lounging with head lolling back, his wine cup half raised, and eyes half closed. There is a temptation to linger on this sight, but Aziraphale remembers (after several longish moments) that he, as an angel, cannot be tempted, and rapidly readjusts his gaze. It falls upon a clay bowl and 3 multicolored shape-shifted children.
"Crawley, the children!"
"Hmmm?"
"The children! They can't stay newts!"
Crawley hoists himself up on one elbow and looks over at the bowl. "Nahh, not newts. They're a type of lizard - meant for the desert, them. They're fine."
Aziraphale levels a stern, if slightly greasy stare in the direction of the demon. "That's not what I meant. How are you planning to return them to their parents?"
Crawley looks surprised. He had been trying to think of the exact type of lizard the form of the transformation had taken. He thought it might be a grecian but that didn't seem quite right. Greco? Still not it... He tries to focus through the wine. "Back to their parents? Doesn't seem very demonic." He shakes his head. "I got rid of them - no more kids, poof, gone - seems like it would take a miracle to get them back." He waves a hand dismissively.
Aziraphale huffs out a breath. "Well, they can't stay that way forever. If we could get them back to Sitis and Job after the bet is over, maybe they could be taken as new children..." He trails off, realizing what he is saying.
Crawley is now sitting all the way up, wine goblet forgotten and dangling from his fingers as he slowly raises both eyebrows and aims a golden gaze at the angel. "Ohhhh, do go on," he drawls.
Finding it suddenly very important to look anywhere but Crawley, Aziraphale feels his shoulders hunch. The taste in his mouth is too oily and his tongue seems raw. "Ahhhh," he says eloquently, casting his eyes about the cellar and encountering bare oxen ribs in his attempt to not look at the attentive demon. He turns his gaze miserably to the floor.
Several minutes pass and the uncomfortable silence grows, until a wiggle turns into a rustle turns into a black dressed form elegantly scooting (possible if you were once a snake and your human spine is open to suggestion) a little closer to his despondent companion.
"What about a magic trick?"
Aziraphale flicks his eyes over to where Crawley sits nearby, long legs folded, gazing up at him. "A... trick,” he manages over his oily tongue.
"Look," says Crawley, "between you and me, Gabriel couldn't tell these kids from Cain and Abel. I doubt he can even count to three." Aziraphale chokes a little, halfway between a laugh and gasp, but he must hand it to the demon, Gabriel has never seemed to be the brightest angel in the choir. He thinks about his recent conversations in Heaven and Gabriel’s insistence that God will provide seven new children to Job. Via Sitis (oh that poor woman).
The red hair and beard shimmer in the low light as Crawley leans forward and catches Aziraphale's eyes with his own. "So we'll do a magic trick. Sitis's births have to start sometime, why not right away?"
"Because... uh... well, you see..." Aziraphale himself is completely at sea. He reflects that perhaps humans do not eat entire oxen because it seems to diminish the power of thought. Does he have a general working knowledge of human reproduction? Yes. (He'd been on the human planning committee after all). Could he explain it to the wide-eyed being sitting in front of him? No. This is probably due to the taste of oxen stifling his brain. No other reason. Certainly not.
Crawley sighs, points to decimated ox. "Do ya get it? Ribs!" He grins.
Aziraphale feels his mouth drift open. He looks at the ox, ribs glinting white in the flickering light. He remembers another day, a flickering morning, and a woman taking her first breaths… and more importantly, a birth process Gabriel would believe… “Eve!”
The demon’s grin, impossibly, widens. “Exactly. Even if there are a few angels hanging around it should be easy to plant a few ribs, sneak in a few lizards” (what WERE they called? Gemini? Arghh…) “…and poof! Kids!” His hands flutter in the air. A distant, anachronistic part of Aziraphale’s brain categorizes these as Jazz Hands.
“Magicians!” Aziraphale allows himself a small smile. His shoulders relax. He crinkles his eyes towards Crawley, misses the small intake of breath from his demonic cellar-mate. “That could work!” He hesitates. “As long as no one asks directly which children these are, we should be fine!”
Crawley scoots back and resumes his comfortable position from earlier, refills the forgotten goblet, raises another toast. “Angel, the archangel Gabriel wouldn't notice if his wings were on backward. You bring the ribs and gecko-kids (that was it!! Geckos! Course it was!), I’ll do the talking. We’ll be fine." He takes a deep drink of wine.
Aziraphale's smile grows and he thinks that maybe a few of those ox bones need a little more work to be truly clean. He wiggles a little at the anticipation of the rich taste. He casts a quick glance at his companion, who seems, true to his word, not particularly lonely. His magician’s assistant. They will be fine.
#please be kind its the first fic longer than like 3 lines that i've ever written#but it just kind of happened#so happy halloween i guess?#morning reblog#good omens ficlet#the job job#the job minisode#a companion to owls#that night in job's cellar#tumblr fic#good omens fic#good omens fan fiction#ineffable husbands#azriacrow#a duck writes
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Humans are weird: The Scope of our Existence
Alien: *Goes for walk through park*
Alien: *Sees human friend sitting on bench near pond feeding strange animals with crumbs and goes over to them*
Alien: Greetings friend Jim.
Jim: *Turns head* Oh, hi Gilmek.
Alien: What are you doing?
Human: *Turns back to feeding animals* Pondering existence and my place in it.
Gilmek: *Confused* Is this a human joke?
Jim: No, I am being perfectly honest.
Gilmek: *Stares at animals, then back at Jim*
Gilmek: If that is true then why do you feed these creatures?
Jim: They’re called “Ducks”.
Gilmek: Why then do you feed these ducks if you are pondering such philosophical matters?
Jim: *Shrugs* It helps me put things into perspective for myself.
Gilmek: *Sits next to Jim* How so?
Jim: *Throws oats and watches ducks eat them up.*
Jim: What do you think of these birds?
Gilmek: *Watches ducks eat the oats* They seem primitive in nature, yet beautiful to look at.
Jim: They have been around far longer than the human species as a whole and predate many other species on our world.
Gilmek: And?
Jim: And they have largely remained the same for the last few thousand years compared to humanity.
Gilmek: I guess.
Gilmek: Different species progress along different points of development and evolution; yet your species has far outpaced their development so why compare to them?
Jim: Because if you take a human from three thousand years ago and drop them in today’s society, or handle it the other way around and drop someone from today three thousand years in the past; chances are high that they would not be able to survive.
Jim: But ducks?
Jim: You could drop a duck from today’s age five thousand years in the past and it would feel as at home as it does right now.
Jim: *Looks at Gilmek* How can we possibly compare to that?
Gilmek: *Opens his mouth to speak, but stops himself as he ponders the statement*
Jim: *Tosses more oats* “How fleeting are all human passions compared with the massive continuity of ducks…”
Gilmek: Did you make that?
Jim: *Shakes head*I’m not nearly as poetic.
Jim: A human author named Dorothy L. Sayers wrote that one.
Gilmek: They must be popular in this time for you to remember it.
Jim: They wrote it four thousand years ago in year of 1935 on my world.
Gilmek: *Looks at ducks again*
Gilmek: You humans have a somewhat disturbing and intriguing relation with your planets animals.
Jim: *Chuckles* You should see what we do with our cats?
Gilmek: Cats?
Jim: Furry creatures about yay high *holds hand below knee* and covered in fur.
Gilmek: How do you treat them?
Jim: We dedicated a few gods around them at one point.
Gilmek: ………
Jim: Come to think of it they may have never gotten over that with how they still treat us in return for our love.
#humans are insane#humans are space oddities#humans are weird#humans are space orcs#scifi#story#writing#original writing#niqhtlord01#Ducks are Eternal
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HONK! CRASH!
Danny woke up with a jerk. He laid in bed for a long moment, staring at the ceiling and listening to the chaos downstairs. He could hear something running around the house honking, his dad yelling, and the sound of a gun going off. He didn’t have enough sleep to deal with this. All he had wanted was to sleep before school, but was that ever going to happen? No! Why was it always him that had to deal with everything?
“GRAB IT MADDIE, IT’S GETTING AWAY!” Dad yelled.
“I KNOW, JACK!” Mom yelled, shooting her gun again.
CRASH!
Danny rubbed his eyes with a deep sigh, tossing the covers off of him and putting his feet onto the floor. Just as he was about to get up, he heard thumping coming up the stairs. Great! Now he would get in trouble if he didn’t try to head off whatever was running around their house. He ran over to his bedroom door and yanked it open, running down the hall until he was face to face with a black duck. It wasn’t even a ghost! The duck had a patch of blue around its eyes that looked like a mask, and blue markings down the side of it. In his confusion, the duck slipped between his legs and kept running down the hall.
Jazz screamed from somewhere downstairs. “There’s another one!”
“IVE GOT IT!” Dad yelled.
Cursing, he ran after the duck just as his Mom ran up the stairs. He grabbed the duck off of the ground, ignoring it as it hissed at him and tried to bite him.
“What the fuck?” He asked Mom.
“Language, sweetie.” Maddie said while she aimed the gun at the duck in Danny’s hands.
“What’s going on?” He had to raise his voice to be heard over the duck squealing.
CRASH!
They both ignored the sounds coming from downstairs. Danny decided it wasn’t his immediate problem, so he said nothing on what sounded like Dad plowing through a wall at top speed while running.
“We thought these ducks were ghosts at first, but they’re not. We don’t know where they came from.” Maddie took a step towards him, a frown on her face. “They came out of the portal.”
The duck was still trying to bite him. It couldn’t even break the skin of his hand, so he didn’t try to fight it.
“Weird looking duck.” He commented. “Ducks aren’t blue.”
The duck squawked loudly in protest.
“GOT IT!” Jack yelled from downstairs.
“Can we like… throw it back in the portal?” He asked.
“It could come back in. We don’t know where in the portal it came from.” Mom said, lowering the gun now that the duck had stopped trying to escape.
“You think another dimension?” He asked as they walked downstairs.
“Perhaps. For now we’ll put them in the holding pod and figure out what to do next.” Mom led him down to the lab.
When they got down there, he added the duck in his hands to the cell that housed the other duck. The other duck was differently colored from the first. It was black, with green feet, a green mask around its eyes, and red markings along its body. The duck seemed to be howling bloody murder.
“This one put up a fight!” Dad said proudly. “Too bad it’s not a ghost.”
“Great. I can go back to sleep now, right?” He asked tiredly.
“You sure you don’t want to help with the interdimensional search? You’ve always been the best at this.” Mom offered.
“No thanks.” He declined, yawning. “But if they’re still here when I wake up then I’ll help.”
“Okay. Good night, sweetie.” Mom kissed his forehead.
“Night mom, Night dad.” He waved as he walked back upstairs.
As soon as he got back upstairs, he found Clockwork sitting on his bed. He screamed in frustration.
#dp x dc au#dp x dc writing prompt#dp x dc#dp x dc fanfic#dp x dc prompt#dp dc crossover#danny phantom crossover#dp x dc crossover#danny phantom#dp crossover#dpxdc prompts#dpxdc#dcxdp#dick and damian are ducks#interdimensional travel#reveal gone right#danny fenton#Danny is tired#danny is so done
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So let’s go through this one-by-one, shall we?
Red Guy
Flat affect in voice, not very expressive
Or from the perspective of other Red Guy, he is far too expressive and tend to smile at inappropriate situations
Express emotions either ‘too little’ or ‘too much’ in terms of volume, very little in-between
Speaks very bluntly
Feels physically uncomfortable with bright colors
"Well, this isn't that fun, is it? can't make out where I am in the room like this. What if I'm standing in an embarrassing area?"
"I actually don't mind it. Kind of a nice break from all of those... garish colors"
Duck
Loves cataloging and organizing things as a recreational activity
Anthropomorphise inanimate objects (like ACTUALLY inanimate, not teachers)
"You have to jab it hard or it won't respect your choices!"
Has a hard time fitting in in ‘normative’ social groups
Odd sensory sensitivities
"You're supposed to say that the floor is too loud or the window is disrespecting you"
Yellow Guy
Relies on a heavy amount of social mimicry in unfamiliar social situations
"I'm making bits and parts, although sometimes I feel a bit like the bits and parts are, eh, making me."
Tends to understand metaphors and turns of phrases very literally
Which is actually a trait that he displays even in his hyper-intelligent ‘Charged’ mode
"Oh there he is, it's about time."
"Yeah, what have you been doing?"
"Um, okay, let me see... We were learning about electricity... I completed a crossword puzzle..."
Who is also very sensitive to sounds when two or more people are speaking at once
He also seems to have ‘clumsy’ motor functions in both ‘forms’
In conclusion:
#dhmis#don't hug me i'm scared#don't hug me#i'm scared#dont hug me im scared#dhmis tv series#dhmis tv show#dhmis analysis#dhmis yellow guy#yellow guy don't hug me i'm scared#yellow guy dhmis#red guy dont hug me im scared#red guy dhmis#red guy#dhmis duck#duck dhmis#being 'fully-charged' and operating correctly just made Yellow Guy MORE autistic lol#anyways gonna write a callout post for Lesley for contrascting her Puppety Purgetory entirely out of overstimulating felt textures#actually autistic
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On the outskirts of Gotham a farm is made.
No one can pinpoint when it was started but it was clearly bountiful.
New orchards of plums apples and several other fruit whisper promises of fruits in the years to come.
Bee houses buzzed with life and ducks quacked and scurried to and from their pond, coop and the garden.
Vegetables by the rows with seasonal berries brushes spring up at the corners of the property.
Greenery that almost seemed to glow with how lush it was.
It was like a small oasis in the desert of Gotham’s dirty land.
And it was ran by only three people.
The woman’s name was Sam. She was known as an activist who seemed to do the primary care of the plants. The property was in her name and she went out of her way to invite people to take what they need.
Danny was the most well known of the trio. He brought the produce into the heart of the city. Anywhere that would take the food, kitchens, pantries, school cafeterias even people’s doorsteps.
Tucker was the technical mastermind, hidden but equally important. The sprinklers, planning of the pollination rotation, harvesting planning and statistics were his main focus on the farm. Not a single square inch of the the land was not under his watchful gaze.
All the food was fresh or properly stored and most interesting of all free.
Of course people were going to talk.
#dp x dc#writing prompt#danny fenton#danny phantom#sam manson#tucker foley#so basically#the trio play stardew valley irl#grandma Ida as soon as Sam turned 18: happy birthday I got you something something#they just want to love their best life#platonic or romantic#everlasting trio#I think that’s the right tag for that ship#in my mind it’s platonic but having a sustainable farm with your two partners is honestly goals AF#the ducks are so they don’t have to use pesticides 🥰
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You know, it's a tragedy that there are no (or very little) Vampire x Christian stories out there, not for angst or theology or forbidden seductiveness or whatnot but for the sheer comedy of it all. I mean, the Christian would technically be immune to all of the vampire's shenanigans, like for example...
Vampire: Fool, I am the most powerful vampire in the West. Nothing but the force of an entire holy temple could even deign to scratch me
Christian: Idiot, I AM a holy temple. 1 Corinthians 6:19, fear me and the Spirit inside that can burn you to ashes
#this thought was brought on by a conversation i saw on the km shea discord#and also my need to theologize everything#it would be so funny to me too if we added the fact that the human Christian was also anemic#(not because anemia is funny. especially not if it's chronic. just the fact that the vamp couldn't bite the human)#truth be told it doesn't even have to be a romance to me. just a chaotic comedy duo#lemon duck quacks#lemon duck tales#yeah this is funny#for the words!#one day i will write all my deranged supernatural story ideas that involve way too much Christian imagery and comedy#but for now....#anyway how to make the most unbiteable human that you cannot help be drawn to as a modernized vamp?#Christian and likely chronically iron deficient#i am very sorry if this is offensive#but you know#vampires
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I saw a post a few months ago (and damn was it really months? In PLURAL?) that was a cracky dpxdc au where the LOS were making Damian clones but the clones kept getting snatched by ghost portals and dropped into Danny’s lap and Danny just goes “ok ig this is my life now” and takes care of each one until he has his own mini army of Damian Clones.
And I remembered it a few days ago, and now I've been thinking about it again. Because I love clone aus (see: clone danny au, the 'danny is thomas wayne' au) because it itches the part of my mind that loves exploring personhood and the exploration of identity and what it means to be clone.
(What do you do when nothing about you is unique? When your face, your eyes, your hands, your hair, your voice, all the way down to your heart, all belong to someone else?)
(When it comes to nature vs nurture what of you came from your environment and your experiences, and what of you was already programmed into you from the DNA that made you?)
(What do you do to make it unique? What do you do to make you unique?)
And if I could remember who made that post I'd @ them right now because it was their original post that inspired this, but I'm just thinking of if the au only had One Singular Damian clone that fell into Danny's life.
(a read more because im apparently incapable of making posts that are less than 1k words...)
One Damian who knew he was a clone and knew that he was to either bring the original back to base or kill him to take his place, who was being trained the same way but kept getting compared to his original over and over again. Like an older sibling who you can never match up to. Who is still a child who craves adult affection and validation and praise, and can't get it because nothing about him is original.
One Damian who, at six years old, in a twist of fate is sucked through a swirling portal and lands in Amity Park, directly on top of, in front of, or in line of sight of one Daniel Fenton, half-ghost extraordinaire and local hero.
What happens next?
Well, for one, Danny recognizes him immediately. He would recognize the face of Damian Wayne anywhere because his best friend was ranting about him all week about Damian Wayne's environmental stuff he does.
And for two, he would recognize that the Damian Wayne in front of him was not Damian Wayne. Because Damian Wayne was a teenager. And the Damian Wayne in front of him is a child. Six years old.
Getting this not-Damian but also-Damian to go along with Danny is not, not an easy task. The tiny Damian is aggressive, regal, and at this point in time, six years old, barely understanding english. He also has a sword.
It takes all day and a google translator to get this Tiny Damian to finally agree to go home with Danny. It's a miracle. Seriously. A tried and true miracle. And its also only when Danny has to fight a ghost does he finally agree, saying something in arabic that Danny doesn't understand.
Danny flies them both home, carrying Tiny Damian like a koala. The ensuing conversation in his room is not any better. It is tiring, long, and exhausting. Tiny Damian is six years old, and every single thing he says when Danny asks where he came from is met with a poorly translated "that's classified".
Danny keeps an eye on the news. There are no reports of Damian Wayne going missing, in fact he's been rather public. Bruce Wayne is not one to lie about his children going missing, and Damian's secretive behavior and young age draws Danny to one conclusion: Damian is a clone.
He doesn't know why Damian Wayne is being cloned. Frankly he doesn't really wanna know, because whatever organization that did it doesn't seem too pure-of-heart if tiny-Damian's immediate attempt of murder when they first met is of any indication. But he's too busy taking care of his city, that he doesn't have time to deal with whatever shady business Tiny-Damian was produced from.
In the end though, he decides that this Tiny-Damian is not going back to whatever place he came from. Tiny Damian disagrees. It is a long, nebulous problem of Damian trying to run away, Danny catching him, and Danny pulling him back home.
In that time, Danny downloads a language app and starts learning Arabic so that they can talk to each other properly. Damian slowly, slowly, starts picking up English.
In that time, Danny also has to inform his friends and his sister about Damian. Tiny Damian is not a fan of this. That is another argument they have. Tiny Damian does not like Sam or Tucker for a long, long while. He only really "listens" to Danny, citing something in arabic that Danny still cannot understand, but has a repeated use of the word "lieazir". It's the only word that Danny can catch in a sentence immediately, because its what little Damian calls Danny.
Tiny Damian, in that front, is very interested in Danny's powers and in his parents work. He finds tubberware of ectoplasm in the fridge once while they're down in the kitchen and calls it something with the word lieazir in it. The other word is something that Danny later learns means water in arabic.
It makes him feel even more uneasy of whatever place little Damian came from.
It takes weeks for little Damian to finally give up on escaping, and then a few weeks more for him to almost entirely lose his spunk. Danny isn't sure what started it. It was as if he'd been flipped with an off-switch.
(Damian had been so confident that the League would go looking for him after his disappearance. He was wrong, and he is crushed. He is still a child, alone, in a country very big and very busy, where nobody understands what he's saying. He feels powerless, helpless.)
(The lazarus boy who calls himself Danyal is nice to him in a way the league has never been, and he's making an effort to learn Damian's language. But he leaves for hours at a time and Damian doesn't have much else to do but wait in this house for him to come back.)
(He tried leaving, many many times, but he doesn't understand the street signs, the roads, the people. He doesn't know where he is, and he feels scared in a way that he's not felt in the League. Danny finds him every single time, hours later when Damian is lost somewhere in Amity Park)
(And he never yells at him. Never. The first time this happens, Damian puffs himself up and prepares himself for this strange lazarus boy to yell at him. Damian feels like he's tripped on the last step of the stairs when Danyal doesn't yell at him.)
(He can tell he's frustrated by the tone of his voice, but when Danyal lays eyes on him he just looks relieved. He gets scolded on the flight home, but Damian doesn't understand any of it other than Danyal just sounds worried. Not angry. He gets a proper scolding once they get back, with Danyal typing into the google translator and playing it for Damian to hear.)
(This happens every single time until Damian finally agrees to stop running away.)
It's with Jazz's help that Danny finally realizes that Damian was depressed. It's with her help again that Danny tries helping with it. It's like trying to get a stray cat to trust him. And with everything else they've done, it takes a long time.
And it is so, so worth it when it all works out.
Tiny Damian doesn't really like Sam, or Tucker, but he likes Danny. And he finally starts calling him his name. His full name, but his name nonetheless. Danny doesn't bother correcting him. He's not looking a gift horse in the mouth. And it's endearing hearing Damian call him Danyal.
Damian in this time, also begins to take more initiative into learning English. And they teach each other words they know. Danny buys flash cards and writes the english alphabet on them, and then finds a book on arabic to teach himself and Damian. Sam and Tucker and Jazz start learning as well.
And then when Danny knows enough arabic and Damian knows enough english, and Damian trusts Danny, Damian tells him he's a clone. It's a quiet moment, late at night when Danny takes Damian up to the ops center to look at what stars they could see through the light pollution.
It'd be very easy for Danny to tell him, "I know. I could tell from the start.". He doesn't, it's not the time nor the place, and Danny's matured enough to know when to open his mouth and when to keep it shut. He lets Damian, almost seven now, tell him that he's a clone of Damian Wayne. Lets him tell him why he was made, what his purpose was.
(Danny will need a minute later to process the fact that Damian Wayne originally came from some kind of... assassin league with an obsession with immortality. But he's focused on Damian.)
In the end, he puts an arm around Damian Wayne's clone and pulls him into his side. Thanks him for trusting him, it must've been hard to tell him, that he's brave for being able to. And if he wants to, they can find a way to get into contact with the Waynes and let Wayne know about him.
Damian hides his face in Danny's ribs and holds him tight, and tells him he doesn't want to. Danny leaves it at that.
Perhaps it would be more morally ethical to alert Damian Wayne that there was a clone of him running around, that his... uh, grandfather was making clones of him. Hell, Danny would have liked it. But little Damian has asked him not to say anything, and little Damian needs someone to rely on; someone he can trust.
And in the end, its not that hard of a decision to make. Danny knows little Damian more than he knows Damian Wayne, and while Danny likes to think he's a good person, he knows he's not a great one. Nor a perfect one. He cares more about someone he knows than someone he doesn't.
If Sam tries to argue with him about it, then Danny will just double down. If Damian doesn't want to tell Wayne about his existence, then it's not their place to say otherwise.
There's a lot more to talk about over Damian's cloning, like what he wants to do moving forward. But that's a long conversation not meant to be one taken late at night. Little Damian is falling asleep at his side, seemingly much more relaxed than he did before, and Danny wasn't gonna ruin that.
And later he's right, it is a long conversation, and a slow one. Talking with Jazz about it helps him figure out what to do moving forward, and their best bet is to let Damian figure out what he wants to do. So he sits Damian down at the dinner table the next morning and tells him before breakfast that he doesn't need to be Damian Wayne.
He doesn't need to learn all the same things Damian Wayne did. He doesn't need to do anything that Damian Wayne does. And little Damian is seven, and he's smart, but Danny still has to word it in a way that's not too complex for him to realize.
And in the end, what he says essentially boils down to "You are not Damian Wayne, you are just you. Don't be anyone else but you." and it'll take more time to drill that into his mind when all he's ever heard and learned from is that he was a copy of Damian Wayne, and he must act like Damian Wayne. But it'll happen.
It's a hard task when Danny's the only person Damian really trusts and he can't be by his side all the time, but he starts to warm up to the rest of Danny's family. The Fenton parents know of him, it's hard to keep a six year old child a secret for as long as Danny did without eventually having to come clean about it. His parents, much to Danny's relief, are very welcoming to Damian.
Damian figures out what he likes. Slowly. He's six years old, almost seven, and nobody expects of him to figure out who he is immediately. No child knows who they are right off the bat. So like any child he begins to explore. His english is better but still rough, and he struggles to read said language, but the Fenton family are happy to help even if Damian learns words that no normal seven year old does. (Many of them scientific.)
Damian realizes he likes stars, even if said interest is influenced by the association to Danny. Danny is all too delighted to tell him all about them, and in the process takes him flying out somewhere where the light pollution doesn't reach and showing him where constellations are.
Damian is six-almost-seven, so he doesn't find all of them, but Danny helps him figure out the easier ones. He tells him the scientific facts behind them, and then tells him about the mythos of the constellations. Later on they make their own constellations and make up stories about what they are.
(Damian adores Danny out of anyone else in the Fenton Family. The name Danyal turns to Dany. If anyone asks, Daniel Fenton is Damian's big brother.)
(He still refers to Jazz as Jazmine, and Danny's parents as Mrs. and Mr. Fenton.)
He realizes that, like his original, he loves animals, and he becomes vegetarian too. Sam is smug and Tucker is disappointed, but Damian doesn't super care about their opinions. ...he's getting better at liking them, even if he thinks Manson is a bit snobby and Foley is too much at times.
Its inevitable that the conversation of school comes into play. Damian can't stay home all day and he needs proper schooling. So after a long talk with Damian, they agree to send him to elementary school.
...And before they can do that the Fenton Family goes through with legally adopting Damian into the family as Damian Fenton. It takes convincing to get the administration to enroll him into the first grade without a proper schooling background.
(On his adoption form, Damian asks to change his birthday to the day he met Danny. Perhaps its not the most responsible thing to agree to, but Danny wants Damian to find himself. And its not like they know when his actual birthday was.)
And despite where he learned it from, Damian quite likes sparring. And he quite likes sparring with Danny in particular. Danny makes it fun, something that was foreign in his old league training, and Danny never hurts him. It's a lot like roughhousing.
Danny tells Damian how he got his powers, and how his parents don't know. Damian wakes up late at night to Danny sneaking out of the room (their house is not big enough to give Damian an individual room, and Danny agreed to share his) to go fight ghosts.
It's upsetting. Damian knows that Danny gets injured in those fights, even if Danny never comes home until after those injuries have been fixed up. He wants to help, and he voices it, and Danny shoots him down.
It becomes an argument, something that has happened less and less over the months.
Damian is experienced.
Damian is a child.
Damian knows how to fight.
Damian is mortal and fragile. He is a tiny, squishy human boy and the people Danny fights are ghosts who are near-indestructible. Who are intimately acquainted with death but also do not remember that humans are capable of it. Especially when they're fighting.
Damian says that Batman's rogues are capable of the same thing, that he lets his Robins help him fight.
And Danny says he is not Batman and he will not allow Damian to fight ghosts with him. Those ghosts will kill him and it will hurt. Dying hurts in a way that is terrifying and unimaginable and he will not risk Damian experiencing it. Not even Sam and Tucker help him in his fights most of the time, they are not able to. Not in the way Danny can.
Damian doesn't talk to him all day the following morning, but Danny does not budge on his decision. Damian tries to follow him out the next night, and Danny catches him and takes him back. Over, and over, and over again.
Until finally he gets intercepted by Skulker while taking Damian back home and is forced to fight him in front of Damian. (If it had been his choice, he would not have let Damian see it at all.)
It's not pretty. Skulker has new weapons, weapons that hurt, a lot. Danny is stuck between trying to take him down and trying to protect Damian from Skulker's attacks at him and from all the debris being created from the fight. It's with Damian's quick thinking and fast feet that finally helps Danny take Skulker out. But Danny is badly injured in the aftermath.
He doesn't have time to take Damian home and get medical attention. So he takes Damian with him to wherever he has his supplies stashed. He doesn't call Sam or Tucker or Jazz, and has to stitch himself up alone, with Damian watching.
Damian is quiet the entire time, he feels awful. Danny's not mad at him -- well, he is. But not because he had to protect him. He's just tired, and a little disappointed in him. Damian doesn't sneak out again. But he still feels helpless.
Danny tells him that that is why he doesn't want Damian to help him. Ghosts, his ghosts, are hard to fight. They are powerful, and his 'rogues' are mean. They will not care that Damian is a mortal child, if he picks a fight with them, they will fight back. And Damian is not immune to certain ghost powers like Danny is.
Damian is silent. He wants to help. But Danny is right: he is a squishy, mortal, living child. There is not much he can do to help Danny. Not without any gear to do it. Not without any powers to do it. He wants to help. He cannot.
Damian, almost-seven-years old, begins to cry. It is the last thing Danny was expecting, and for a moment he is at a loss of what to do.
Damian reaches for him -- in the Fenton family, physical affection is expected. Damian is getting used to it, but Danny is the only one he likes touching him -- and then stops, cringing away like he only just remembered that Danny was hurt.
He only cries harder.
Danny meets him halfway and pulls him into his arms, situating Damian between his knees from where he's sitting. Through his tears, Damian says he wants to help. He wants to help. He doesn't want Danny to get hurt anymore. He doesn't want Danny to fight ghosts alone anymore. He's scared that Danny will stop coming back.
Danny doesn't have anything to say to reassure him. Can't say anything to reassure him. It'll all just be lies. He's not going to stop fighting ghosts, he can't. He's not going to stop getting hurt, he can't. He's not going to bring Damian with him, he can't. He'd never be able to live with himself.
"I'll always come back." He says though, because that is something he can promise. Whether dead or alive, he'll come back.
When the tears finally stop, Damian doesn't say anything again. He sniffles, and presses his ear to Danny's chest, listening to the steady, slow heartbeat. If he puts his ear to his sternum and strains his ear, Damian would almost hear the low hum of Danny's ghost core, like a small dwarf sun.
"If you die, I'll drag you to the Lazarus pools myself." Damian mumbles eventually, his voice sleep-full. It's spoken in arabic, and Danny only understands half of it.
He laughs quietly, and smoothes his hand over Damian's hair. He hasn't had a haircut since he arrived, it's gotten long and there are curls beginning to form. "Okay."
Damian falls asleep shortly after, and with much consideration to his own injuries and Damian's sleeping form, Danny flies them back home.
It's hard to say, but not much changes in routine afterwards. Damian hovers close to Danny, more than usual. Danny still goes out at night, he still stitches himself up before going back, he still goes back home where Damian is waiting worriedly for him. Damian doesn't like falling asleep without knowing Danny is there.
Now the hard question is: when does little Damian finally meet the Waynes for the first time? There's plenty of ways to go about it, both easy and hard. Perhaps we go this way:
The Fenton family are visiting Maddie's sister in Arkansas. And Damian is dragging Danny around through the surrounding forest. It's his first time being in a forest this large since he moved in with the Fentons. Safe to say he is delighted by all of the nature, and he's dragging Danny along with him.
Danny likes the peace and quiet it gives him, he's found that he enjoys the rural area more than he likes the city. He's happy to let Damian point out every plant he recognizes, even if some of it is in arabic.
They walk around all day until Damian gets tired, and then at night when the sky is clear Danny and him go look at the stars. It's peaceful at first.
On the third day of their visit, Damian drags Danny out far from the house. It's slightly worrying, but Danny can always fly them back if it gets too late.
It's in the woods that Danny and Damian stray much too far from Alicia's house, and from there in the early evening that they run into Batman and Red Robin, both of them in rough 'just got out of a fight' shape.
Safe to say, it was the last thing any of them expected to run into. Damian and Danny had stopped at a small crik to rest, and the two vigilantes came through the tree line on the other side.
It was... quite the staring contest.
Damian, now seven years old at this point, forgot to mention that the Waynes were vigilantes when he told Danny he was a clone. But he was told that Batman was his original's father.
Before anyone can say anything, little Damian wraps his arms tight around Danny's middle and stares Batman and Red Robin down. His sharp edges have softened around the Fentons. But he makes no exceptions to anyone else outside of Danny's immediate social circle.
Danny's arm automatically goes around Damian's shoulders, and he looks between both Red and Batman uneasily. If they were here then it meant that there was something unsafe nearby. Danny did not fight the living, and he wasn't going to put Damian in the crosshairs of anything that does.
"Should... should we leave?" He asks, brows knotted together with a frown. He stands. "Is there something going on nearby?"
Batman suddenly grunts, and looks at him. "It's been handled." He says, and his voice is gruffer than Danny imagined it. Lower. Danny is not all that comfortable with that answer.
"Do you guys live nearby?" Red Robin asks, and Danny can't help but notice that he keeps looking at Damian. Warily. In fact, so is Batman.
He pushes Damian behind him slightly, and Damian's grip tightens on him. "Not... exactly." He says, his eyes narrowing slightly. "My family's visiting my Aunt and my brother wanted to explore since it's his first time out of the city, I guess we wandered too far away if we're running into you."
There's no visible indication of whether or not both Bats reacted to him calling Damian his brother. But he can all but feel little Damian preen at the title, it makes Danny's mouth twitch into a smile as his hand finds Damian's hair.
"Would we be able to go back with you?" Red Robin asks, startling both Danny and seemingly Batman, who looks at him instantly.
"Red Robin." He growls out, and Red Robin throws Batman a look of annoyance.
"We are lost, B. They jammed the comms and our trackers back there and it hasn't come back on yet, his aunt may have the signal we need to let the others know where we are."
They end up walking back with Danny and Damian. It's silent, and awkward, and Danny has Damian walking on his opposite side so he's not near the vigilantes. Red Robin is fiddling with a phone but still can't get a signal.
Batman is silently brooding.
Red eventually gives up and shoves the phone into a pocket on his belt, then turns to make conversation with Danny. "I never thanked you for letting us walk with you. Thanks, by the way."
Danny blinks at him, and smiles awkwardly. "No problem, man," he says, "I'm uh, Danny." He glances down at Damian, who looks up at him with big green eyes, and Damian nods quietly.
He looks back at Red Robin, and says, "This is my little brother, Damian." And Damian peers over his side and glares at Red Robin -- and Batman, who looks over when Danny says his name.
"He looks like Damian Wayne," Red Robin notes, head tilting like he's inspecting him.
Danny huffs dryly, "We get that a lot."
Red Robin smiles at him, its a tilted thing. It makes Danny uneasy. "Where did you say you were from?"
"I didn't," Danny says bluntly, and he really doesn't want to tell them where he's from. Not when Red Robin was acting strange, but they're vigilantes and notorious for their detective skills. If he's suspicious, they'll look into him. "But I'm from Amity Park."
Damian in that moment, peers around Danny again and scowls at Red Robin. Full on scowls at him, as if it were the first months when he met Danny. "You're being nosy." He sneers, his hand squeezing Danny's.
"Damian," Danny hisses, suppressing a smile. Damian jumps like he's been startled, and looks up at him with big green eyes. "He's just being curious."
(He lets his smile slip through briefly, just to let Damian know he's not that upset. A tension leaves his little brother's shoulders.)
"But he is." Damian continues, a whine leaking into his voice. Danny jabs him in the ribs with his fingers, and Damian jumps, swatting away his hand with a squeak.
"Would you rather have us walk in dead silence, Dames?" He goes for Damian's ribs again, a grin stretching across his face as Damian jumps back again and swats his hand. "Hm? Hm? We could just walk in awkward silence for the entire trip back, I know you just love awkward silence, little brother."
(It's funny, saying little brother always sounds so uncomfortable when he reads it in books and watches it on tv. But Jazz always makes it sound so natural when she does it, and Danny finds that he sounds the same too.)
Damian continues to bat away his hands, but it's not enough to prevent him from squealing with laughter when Danny gets a good hold on him and starts tickling him. Danny's grin only gets bigger, and he swoops Damian up with his arm and holds him like a football.
"Is that it? Huh? Me, you, and two vigilantes walking back to Aunt Alicia's cabin in complete, utter silence." He says, "You won't get to hear any of my amazing jokes."
Damian's wriggling, trying to pound on Danny's ribs, he's giggling uncontrollably. It's the best sound Danny's ever heard. "Your jokes are awful! Laeazir! Put me down!" He cries, grinning from ear to ear.
(From the side, both Red Robin and Batman tense up.)
Danny chuckles, and through a short series of flips, has Damian sitting on his shoulders. "I will not. You're sitting up in air jail for insulting my hilarious jokes."
Damian tugs on his hair in revenge, harrumphing at him but making no move to get down. Danny squeezes his ankles playfully, and looks back to Batman and Red Robin.
Both vigilantes look at him like he's grown a second head.
....Red Robin looks at him like he's grown a second head. Batman just stares, and then looks away. Danny tilts his head at them, his smile waning. "You guys look like you've seen a ghost or something."
(Damian tugs on his hair again. A silent boo at him.)
Red Robin jerks, "Oh, sorry." He says, not sounding all that sorry. "It's just... I've lost count to how many times I've saved Damian Wayne from the occasional kidnapping and he's always been very... serious. It's just weird seeing a kid that looks like him be... not serious."
From his shoulders he feels Damian hide his smile in his hair, that's another thing they can put on their "Things That Damian Does That Damian Wayne Does Not" list. It started as a joke, but it's been surprisingly helpful for when Damian is questioning himself.
However, Danny is not a fan of the comparison, and he smiles widely, perhaps a tad passive-aggressive. "It's a good thing that my Damian isn't Damian Wayne then." He says, giving him the slight stink eye.
Red Robin picks up on it quickly, and nods.
The rest of the way is spent in idle conversation. It's oddly casual, even if most of the conversation is Danny talking about himself. It's annoying, but he unfortunately understands the reason. Secret identities and all that.
Damian interjects a few times, some parts to talk to Danny, and other parts to throw shade at Batman and Red Robin. Mostly Red Robin, who seems begrudgingly used to it.
("I'm surprised you haven't asked me much about myself." Red Robin says at one point into the conversation. Over his shoulder Batman glares at Red Robin. "A lot of civilians do when they're able."
Danny stares at him. "You're a vigilante." He says, frowning, "Isn't it superhero 101 that you don't ask superheroes for their secret identity?"
"You'd be surprised."
"Huh. Well, no. I'm not gonna ask you about yourself. I quite like talking all about me.")
When they finally reach the cabin, it's late into the night and Danny has moved Damian from his shoulders to his front in a koala-like carry. Damian's fast asleep with his head on Danny's shoulder.
His family was also frantically searching for him, and Jazz sees him first. She immediately turns behind her and yells "I FOUND HIM!". And then sprints over to him, his parents thundering not too far behind.
Both vigilantes are subsequently ignored as Jazz dotes over him and Danny, and soon enough so is his mom and dad. They're all talking all at once, asking him where he was, they were worried sick, did he know how late it was.
He shushes all of them, loudly. And whispers that Damian is sleeping. His family then immediately quiet themselves, and go back to yelling at him in a more appropriate manner.
"Me and Damian walked too far by accident." Danny finally says when he can get a word in, and then he jabs his thumb in Red Robin and Batman's direction. "We also found two superheroes who need assistance."
The speed of which his family all snap their heads over to the direction he's pointing is almost comical. As is all of their expressions of shock.
His mother is the first to regain her senses, and she sighs at him. She sighs! "Only you, Danny." She says, and Jazz snorts into her arm.
#dpxdc#dpdc#dpxdc crossover#danny fenton is not the ghost king#danny phantom au#dpdc danny fenton#i am incapable of making short posts it seems. heavy sigh#this post is open to add ons if anyone's interested 👉👈#this entire au is essentially the song 'Strange Sight' by KT Turnstall from the Tinkerbell and the Neverbeast#This post mostly goes into how danny and damian's relationship develops because i think that's the more important part of the au#also damian's like six i firmly believe he wouldn't know much english#no no he's learning arabic first and then english LATER. if he would ever even get there with the league#iirc all the damian clones liked Danny so i wanna explore how their relationship got to that point. Like what happened for Danny to get eve#getting one Damian clone to like him enough to go up to bat for him? that takes time and patience and i wanna explore that lol#danny's in his late teens here btw.#Clone Damian is a 7yo child and I'm writing him as such because its fun. I thought about having Clone Damian change his name but nothing fi#little clone damian is also A Tad Clingy. Danny is the First Person to have shown him a kindness and Damian Imprinted On Him Like a Duck#i love clone aus and clone aus love me#clone damian and danny are bROOOTHEERSS#i thought about making clone damian's name damon bc its close to the name damian but also i like the idea that clone damian keeps the--#original name and then makes it his own. something about taking the name you were given thats not really yours and MAKING it yours
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dog-eared. | jh86
summary reader and jack broke up before he was drafted to the nhl. after years of watching from afar, jack finally sees y/n in person. past feelings are brought up to the surface.
pairing jack hughes x fem!reader
wc 2.6k
an my lovers… also another gracie fc sorry idk what to tell you! also for the sake of the plot pretend that the devils play the ducks on tuesday instead of vancouver thanks!!! loosely based off of everywhere everything by noah kahan ft gracie abrams
It had been years since you’d seen Jack. You broke up right before he started his NHL career as it seemed like your plans didn’t align. You’d be going to college in California, as USC had been your dream school your whole life. You dreamed of living somewhere where it was sunny and it was never freezing, unlike the weather in your hometown of Toronto. He dreamed of making it big in the professional league, which he was so close to achieving already.
The breakup between you two was mostly mutual. It happened in your 2005 Honda Civic, in the parking lot of a gas station after you had gone to buy soft drinks. The two of you could feel the breakup impending, and it felt as if the weather channel told you a meteor would be hitting Earth within minutes. As if the sun was about to collapse. The silence was deafening as you started your car, putting your drink in the cup holder. He followed suit.
“I..” He started before you cut him off.
“You think we need to break up?” You asked, giving him a soft smile. It wasn’t genuine, it was quite the opposite. You just didn’t want him to feel guilty, you thought it was the right thing as well.
He nodded softly, “I just think we’re on two separate paths… you know?”
“Yeah, I get it.” Your hands tensed under your thighs, as you were using them as hand warmers. “I love you.”
“I love you too, Buttons.” That had been his nickname for you since the 8th grade. You had a perfect little button nose, and it quickly caught on and everybody would use it for you as well.
The drive back to his parents’ house was in silence, as neither of you had much to say to each other. In about ten minutes, you were parked in front of his house. “You’re still going to come to my birthday party, right?” You asked. You were turning eighteen in a few weeks, June 7th.
“Yeah, I will.” He smiled sadly, “It’s not over. We’re just separating until we get brought back together.”
You huffed, “When’s that? Whenever fate decides?”
“Precisely. Call it a dog ear.. you like to read, right?”
“Yeah, I would never doggy ear my books though.” You giggled, “Bye, Jacky.”
That was the last you talked formally. He never did come to your party, texting you an excuse about how he had a training camp that day. You didn’t believe it, but you never said anything about it. It had been years, you watched him succeed from your dorm room and then to your small apartment couch. Your roommates never understood your love for the sport, but you always attributed it to being from up north.
That was a reason, but not the only one.
Every year you anticipated the Devils coming down to Anaheim to play the Ducks. That was practically the only time you watched Jack in person. You were particularly excited this year, as his little brother Luke would be playing too. You adored Luke, he was so sweet and well-mannered, especially to you. Trevor would also be there. He wouldn’t be playing as he was injured, but you’d caught him after a few games to catch up and he was your little piece of Michigan in California.
It was a Friday game, which met that the tickets were slightly higher and there were fewer of them. You finally got your good friend, Cecilia, to agree to go with you. She was familiar with your love of hockey, and she knew you went to a lot of games. She didn’t know you knew two players on the ice, and two players up in the press box. As you were buying your tickets with her, you got a text from Trevor.
trevor zegras 🐣 : hey buttons r u coming to the game? idk cause jacks playing
You hastily replied, trying to shield your phone from Cece in the most subtle way possible.
y/n buttons : yeahhhh i was jst about to buy my tickets bahaha
trevor zegras 🐣 : don’t buy them ❌❌ i have a club ticket right above the benches if u want it
y/n buttons : usually yes i’d love to but i’m bringing my friend cece
trevor zegras 🐣 : i have 2! i’ll send em to u later
y/n buttons : thanks trev i appreciate u ☺️
You put your phone down and closed your laptop. Cece was a couple feet away on hers, but looked at you when your laptop snapped shut. “Did you buy them?” She questioned, scooting closer to you. You shook your head.
“Kind of? Well, one of my friends is on the team and he’s injured, he offered us seats right behind the bench.”
Her jaw fell slightly, “You never told me you had connections!”
You smiled, “I don’t really, I usually buy my tickets. This was a first time thing, I think he might be drunk.” You tried to explain it in the least suspicious way possible. You didn’t want to seem boastful, but an explaination had to come from somewhere.
You two discussed the arrangements for a couple minutes longer. From outfits to hair to transportation, you were more excited for this game than you had been for any others. Maybe it was because it was Jack’s team, or maybe it was because someone finally seemed to share your admiration for the sport.
Who knows, it was probably the latter.
The day came quick, as it was only a day or two out from your initial conversation. The tickets usually dropped in price right before the game, but luckily you didn’t have to spend the money on it regardless. You lended Cece a Zegras jersey that he got you, while you chose to wear an unnamed 30th anniversary jersey. You still had a few hoodies with Jack’s last name on the back, from his time with USNDTP, but you wouldn’t be wearing those tonight.
You arrived shortly before warm-ups, but when you looked at your section and seat numbers you realized Trevor wasn’t lying about you being right behind the bench. He just never mentioned that it was the away bench. You watched from your seat as the boys entered from the tunnel. They weren’t facing you, but you watched to make sure they didn’t turn around at least not now.
You managed to go a little while without being seen by Luke or Jack, that was until Cecelia got extremely into the game. The Devils had a goal in the late first period, opening up the scoring. Luke was sitting on the bench about a foot to the left of Cece, and once they scored she started banging on the glass.
As he stood up to cheer, he turned around due to the banging. The first thing he did was make eye contact with you. His eyebrows raised, and he blinked as if you’d disappear when his eyes opened. He didn’t say anything as you tried to avoid his gaze, and simply turned back around.
The game continued on, and you didn’t see him say anything to Jack. Soon enough, it was intermission and you felt safer. Like eyes weren’t on you anymore, even though they never were. It went by fairly quickly as the two of you watched the silly halftime games that usually were played by young children. As soon as the Devils came back through the tunnel, Jack turned around and looked at you. He kept sneaking glances as they warmed up again before the start of the second.
The rest of the game wasn’t as fun, as the brunette kept staring at you. As if you couldn’t go to hockey games, his hockey games. As if he couldn’t help looking at you. As if he missed you.
It didn’t help that Cece kept shouting at you, telling you that the cute one kept staring at you and that he wanted you. You knew her best interest was at heart, but she had no idea the magnitude of your situation with said cute one. You entertained her teasing of you, and how she kept pointing at you everytime Jack glanced your way.
By the end of the game you were over it. You wanted to escape and go home before the off chance that you ran into Jack actually happened. It was relieving when you got into the car, but startling when your phone lit up with a single message from Jack. Cece was giggling to herself, looking up one of the cute guys she saw on Instagram. She was oblivious to the situation
jack hughes : hi why were u there
You tried to think of an excuse, but eventually you realized it wouldn’t matter if you told the truth or not.
buttons 🩷 : because i was given tix my trevor.. and i go to a lot of ducks games
jack hughes : oh no other reason?
buttons 🩷 : u think i went for u?
jack hughes : maybe a little. sorry for bothering u buttons.
buttons 🩷 : don’t be sorry. how long are you in anaheim?
jack hughes : tonight n then flying up to seattle
buttons 🩷 : where r u staying?
It was a twenty minute drive back up to your apartment, but with your speeding it was around seventeen. Cece didn’t question your urgency as you dropped her off at your shared apartment, and left immediately after. She was a little bit tipsy. As you drove to the Marriott in Anaheim, you thought about what you were doing.
Throwing away years of peace for the same boy who disrupted it all those years ago. If you started to have feelings for him again, who knows how much you life could be uprooted? Everything could be ruined. All the progress and the getting over Jack. Your Jack. You knew you were risking your own personal journey by going to see him, but at this point you didn’t care.
The hotel receptionist was reluctant to let you up, as she knew who was staying there. The skepticism on her face was present from the very moment you walked in.
“Look, I know him and I know his room number, so can you just let me go up?” You pleaded with hed. Going to a room usually wasn’t necessarily an issue, the issue here was that a sports team was staying. She might’ve thought you were a crazy stalker fan.
As she was about to answer, Jack exited the elevator and spotted you talking to the receptionist. “She’s with me.” He told her, as he walked up to the desk. “Thanks, though.” You had texted him a minute prior about the receptionist, but you didn’t expect him to rush down.
“Hi.” You breathed as you made your way toward the elevator, “How’ve you been?”
“I’ve been good.” He stopped before the elevator, “Would you rather go for a drive? I’m sharing a room with Luke.”
Your story paused in a car, so you were unsure how this would turn out. Maybe it will be different this time. “Sure.” You replied softly.
You two walked to your car in silence. You were about to get in the driver’s seat, but he insisted on driving. “You should drive slow around here, there’s a bunch of cops at night because of drunk college students.” You chuckled, “I’ll tell you when you can speed.”
You buckled up, and he started your car. It was an upgrade from your Honda, being a more recent model of a Nissan. “So, why’d you come to the game?” He asked as he pulled out of the hotel’s parking lot.
“I go to a lot of Duck’s games. Trevor plays, of course I go watch him.” You started, “He offered me club tickets, and I figured they were behind his bench. They weren’t, obviously.”
“So you didn’t go for me?” He questioned once again, “I don’t believe that, Buttons.”
You rolled your eyes, “I kind of did. I’ve been while you were playing for the last three years, but I still like hockey in general.”
“I’ll believe that.” The silence sat for a little while as he drove 25 down the city roads, the radio wasn’t even playing. “Do you think we could’ve done long distance?”
You shook your head, “No, not then at least. That’s why we broke it off. Maybe now.” You said the last part quieter, just enough so that if he wasn’t paying attention he wouldn’t have heard it.
But of course he was paying attention. You were his everything before, and possibly even now.
“Now?” He questioned, “What do you mean by that?”
“When we broke up, you said our page was dog-eared. Bookmarked. It was more like a pause until we were ready and mature, or at least that’s how I took it.”
He smiled, “I remember that. Do you think we’re ready and mature?”
You shrugged, looking at him. “Maybe, just this semester and then I’m done. I chose to graduate a semester early. I could move back east, we could be closer. Even without I think we’d be mature enough for long distance.”
The chances of this moment happening just weeks before you graduated was an alignment of the stars in itself. This could be everything you wanted, without disrupting your peace.
“If you need a place to stay, you can always stay with me and Luke.” He offered, “To get on your feet, if you come back.”
“Maybe.” You hummed. His hand was resting on the gear shift, even though it was an automatic. You made a move to lay your hand on top of his, squeezing it gently.
It was a soft step in the right direction. A step to getting the love of your life back, which is what you’d wanted since the minute you broke it off. It’s been a long three years without him, he was your best friend and you intended to make up for the lost time soon enough. You wouldn’t bring up how he never contacted you either, because it was far in the past. You were both kids at the time and you can’t hold a grudge about that.
As he re-entered the hotel parking lot, you smiled at him. Your hands were now intertwined on top of the cup holder region, and you never wanted to let go. His hand was more rugged than before, matured and weathered, but it was still a comfort you had missed. He dropped it to shift the car into park.
“So, I’ll see you soon then?” He asked, as you got ready to get out. 45 minutes had passed between getting into the car and now. You conversed about your current life and your future. Your future together.
You nodded, “Yeah, hopefully. Keep in touch, okay? No ghosting me.” You stepped out of the car and walked around to the driver's side as he got out as well.
The two of you shared a hug, but exchanged little words. You could hear the cars around you, and the sounds of the city were still alive. “Bye, Jack.” You released him from your embrace.
“Bye, Buttons.” He smiled, “I’ll text you.” He turned around and walked back to the hotel as you watched, a smile gracing your features as well.
You’d love him forever, whether you got back together or not. You believed he felt the same. You were glad that Trevor had known about the seating on the tickets, and made sure they got to you. You were also glad Luke saw and recognized you. You were excited to see him. The end was over, and the new start was just beginning.
#jack hughes x reader#jack hughes#nj devils#new jersey devils#nhl hockey#hockey blurb#hockey fic#nhl blurb#nhl fic#trevor zegras#luke hughes#maddie writes stuff#jack hughes x you#hockey x reader#reader insert#reader x jack hughes#nhl imagine#anaheim ducks#jack hughes fic#jack hughes imagine
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dhmis is great because imagine a series centered around three roommates living in a small incredibly isolated house in a story run by a strange omnipotent woman with unclear motivations who amuses herself by tormenting the roommates over and over again in various awful ways by dangling something new and exciting in front of their faces and then making it backfire horribly thus traumatizing them all and often maiming and killing them and they can't escape because they're nothing but puppets in her little show and they're chained to a narrative that will not let them go and one roommate is a naive kid with a sadistic father who traumatizes him horribly when he isn't neglecting him and also eats people and another roommate is almost aware of his situation but will never be able to save himself or his friends and is constantly rejected by his own kind and only wants to leave the tiny house but nothing, no one, will play along and the third roommate is caught in the middle, not a naive child but not quite meta aware, and thus is doomed to fall victim to the same traps over and over and also they're literally the only three people in their entire world besides the evil things that keep intruding in their home and terrorizing them and they can't call for help. ok and now imagine they look like this
#don't hug me i'm scared#dhmis#i can't believe we have to write pages and pages of serious meta about these things. i can't believe myself#when i hear myself saying shit like 'i love the themes of abandonment issues#and the desperate need to belong to some sort of family woven into the characters of red guy and yellow guy'#red guy and yellow guy. and duck. for fuck's sake. they don't even have goddamn names💙
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Hey, your Regency!Price…I hope we get more of him but you inspired me to mess about with some pics. I couldn’t resist!
Foaming at the mouth for this man and his stupid ass shoes.
You like him in his uniform. A man of Price's station hardly needs the backing of a military uniform to hold importance, no he carries that in the proud set of his shoulders, but you like him with all the bells and whistles. You like the way the dark coat looks against his skin, the way the high collar seems to strengthen his jaw, and all the golden accents that make his eyes sparkle. The only thing you can find to dislike about it is the way it draws other women's attention.
Price holds your fan, waving it in brisk motions to keep the both of you cool as you snag two glasses off a passing tray. You offer him one and he takes it graciously. It's funny how easily you fall in with his motions, how easily he falls into yours. You reach for your fan and he snaps it shut, your own bad habit mirrored back to you. You bite down your smile and try to be more dainty when you open it again.
"You're rather popular," You note, your eyes drifting to the crowd of women glaring at you. They exchange quiet but pointed words behind fans, you're sure if you were closer they'd raise their voices so you could hear what they called you. Nothing creative you're sure. Peacocks, the lot of them.
"The uniform is popular," Price responds.
"Not the man?" You raise a brow, catching the twitch of his smile, "Pity, I rather like the man."
"He likes you."
You hum, smile over the rim of your wine glass. You enjoy flirting more than you'd thought you would. Enjoy the way Price makes your stomach flip and your skin heat with only three words. You like the way his voice rumbles low in his chest when he says them. 'He likes you.' You smile a little more despite yourself, your teeth edging against the rim of the glass.
"You like when I say that?" You can hear the smile in his voice, feel the gentle pressure of his hand low against your back. It's a fleeting touch but it leaves you burning for more, improper in the best of ways.
"It's nice to hear," You tell him, flashing the warmth of your smile his way. There's no sense in hiding it when he already knows. Here's another thing you like, the way Price's eyes wrinkle at the corners when he smiles at you.
"It's the truth," The sincerity of his tone makes your heart ache. Nothing could have prepared you for this man, for the desire he churns in you. Longing for things you never let yourself dream of: love, marriage, children. Propriety says you're never supposed to seem too interested lest gossip spread about your virtue, but-
"A mutual one," You tell him, assure him with affection on your lips. You're sure after your first meeting with him your reputation is tarnished enough, you may as well be honest with the man that ruined it.
"Be still my heart," He rumbles, his smile as wide as you've ever seen it, "you'll kill me before we ever reach the alter tellin' me that sweetheart."
#been doing research on regency courtship#Tell me how Price kissing her hand when they first met would've been a fucking SCANDAL#of course duck was a fool to offer him her hand when they weren't even engaged#THIS MAN IS ALL BUT FUCKING HER IN THE MIDDLE OF THE ROOM#Price writing his fucking name on Duck and she wonders if he's serious about her#God I want them to exchange letters and gifts and sit close together while they talk about the future#they're so smitten with each other#cod x reader#x reader#x oc#cod x oc#john price mw2#john price x reader#captain john price#captain price cod#captain price x reader#captain price mw2#captain price#john price#price x reader#x f!reader#f!reader#oc: duck#regency au
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A few more people have found this blog so here's a pinned post with links to my metas, little things/gif series, art etc and the nuts and bolts of stuff here in case you want that:
I'm a rabid reblogger of most everything Good Omens from meta to shitposts to fan art to fic to edits. Some of it ends up in a queue but mostly it's a firehose. Show, book, all are welcome here. I've been in this fandom one way or another a loooong time (yep, tumblr elder here) and can quite comfortably hold multiple and sometimes opposing characterizations and theories in my head at one time. I do try to tag but I'm gonna be honest it's less about organization and more about using the tags to chat and snark and get emotional b/c it makes me happy. That being said, #good omens s2 is my current season tag but i'm not marking spoilers anymore.
I use #fan art and #good omens meta and #good omens theories and #good omens speculation. My own stuff I tag with
#a duck talks
#a duck gifs
#a duck draws - Good Omens fan art
#a duck writes
I love wordy additions to posts, and if you yell in the tags we are family. Oh, might be NSFW stuff but not usually. PS I don't love angst but I guess I do now? Thanks season 2!
And... since there's a few out there now, some links to my metas and things.
Little fic of a conversation in Job's cellar
Credits split-screen colors
Let's Talk Laudanum
Little things to love about gos2 series
GOs1/GOs2 Parallels in gifs
A comforting thought
The bookshop as Eden and 2 different Apples
Crowley's 1827 outfit
The scent of bitter almonds (an alternate coffee theory NOT having to do with mind control)
Road Trip fic prompt
Aziraphale's Fairy Tale
The Duality of Jane Austen
aaaand... my post freaking out about s1 that broke containment a bit
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OH CHRISTMAS TREE — JAMIE DRYSDALE
jamie drysdale x fem!reader
12 DAYS OF KINKMAS
summary: in which y/n is decorating the christmas tree with her best friend and comes to terms with some deeper feelings
warnings: NSFW CONTENT, fingering, p in v, praise, dirty talk, i think that’s all?. (3k words)
notes: welcome to day 3 of the 12 days of kinkmas! please enjoy some soft friends-to-lovers with JD!
p.s. i wrote this prior to us learning that Jamie and Trevor no longer live together, so let’s just pretend they still do for the sake of the fic
“do you think Trevor is gonna come home tonight?”
my best friend shakes his head at my question, handing me another ornament from the brand new package we bought at the store today.
“definitely not.” he chuckles, “when he goes over to her house for a hang out, he never comes back until the next day.”
Jamie uses air quotations around the words ‘hang out’, which makes me cringe, squeezing my eyes shut as though it’ll help clear my thoughts of Trevor having sex.
“oh, i did not need to imagine that.” he cackles when he sees my horrified expression, nearly doubling over in laughter.
my hand finds its way to his shoulder, slapping against his hoodie covered body.
“you asked!” he shrugs, “i didn’t think you’d picture it!”
“my mind wanders!” i defend myself, elbowing him in the arm as he stands completely upright again. “just gimme the last ornament.”
he finally sobers up, handing me the final ornament and allowing me to hang it on the tree before we step back to survey it.
“we still need to do the topper.” he concludes and i nod, stepping over to the plastic bags on the coffee table.
i rummage through them, my hunt ending when i finally spot the sparkly tree topper. walking over, i strain onto my tiptoes, flexing my arm as far as i can reach to try and place the decoration, but i still come up short.
“let me help.” Jamie gruffs, and i drop back down onto flat feet, expecting him to place the topper himself.
but instead, he stands behind me, his hands coming up to grip my jean clad hips, and lifts me up. taking me by surprise, i quickly place the topper on the christmas tree.
“is it straight?” i ask, peering down in await of his approval, just in time to watch him drag his eyes away from my ass.
was he checking me out?
“yeah, looks good.” i have to bite my lip to stifle a laugh, my mind immediately drifting, wondering if he was talking about the tree or my butt.
he slowly lowers me, my body sliding through his loosened grasp, and as my feet begin to reach the floor, his hands slip up the hem of my sweater. his chilled touch against the heated skin of my abdomen sending goosebumps along my body, butterflies erupting in my stomach.
Jamie tenses, his hands lingering even after my feet are flat against the hardwood, and a light shiver wracks my body.
i like it.
i mean, i know i’ve always tiptoed the line between platonic and romantic feelings with Jamie. even when we first met, i had hoped we would be something more. but then we became best friends, and i never thought there was any chance of us becoming anything else. so i locked those feelings away, living in quiet delusion that they never existed. but now i’m forced to face them again; forced to come to terms with the fact that they’re still there, and i still want more with him.
i turn my head, glancing over my shoulder and locking eyes with my best friend. and suddenly, it’s like i can see into his mind, reading him like an open book.
he likes it too.
i blink and all too quickly, Jamie is dropping his hands, stepping back hurriedly.
“sorry.” he mutters, casting me a small yet forced smile that doesn’t quite reach his eyes.
i turn to face him, fighting the urge to pull him back to me.
“there’s no need to apologize.” i can only hope that i’m accurately conveying my underlying feelings. that he understands that i mean my words and also that they hold a deeper meaning than just dismissing his apology.
“there’s not?” his eyebrow raises, his hand flexing in front of him as though in a mental battle with himself; whether or not he should touch me again.
my head shakes slowly and i step closer, gazing up through my lashes to meet his eyes. my hand wraps around his wrist, scanning his face to gauge his reactions and emotions as i guide his touch back underneath my sweater and onto my waist.
his fingertips lightly skim my flesh, his sight cautiously flickering between my eyes and my lips. he must find what he’s searching for, because within a moment, his palm is pressed flat to my body, his fingers curling around my waist as he draws me even closer to him. our bodies are mere inches away from each other now, toeing the line between friendly and loving.
“do you…?” he trails off but he doesn’t have to finish his sentence in order for me to understand his meaning. i hum in agreement.
“do you…?” i repeat, my vocal inflection rising as i trail off; a question of my own, not ready to make the final jump unless i know for sure.
Jamie groans, finally pulling me flush against him, “god, yes.”
my best friend wastes no time in crashing his lips upon mine, his free hand tangling in my hair to tilt my head back.
a quiet moan travels up my throat, blocked by our locked lips which leave no choice but to vibrate against them.
he pulls away just slightly and i instinctively chase after him for a second.
“how long have you felt this way?” he whispers against me, simultaneously walking backwards, pulling me with him until my knees are resting on either side of him on the couch.
“since we met.” my confession is breathy and rushed, wanting nothing more than to feel his lips on mine again. “i thought i would get over it- that you didn’t see me like that.”
“fuck, i saw you like that.” he sounds pained, his grip tightening on my hips to keep me in place as i attempt to roll them against his. “of course i saw you like that.
“you’re beautiful, and smart, and kind. fuck, how could i not see you as more when you’re literally my dream girl? i never wanted to be just friends with you.”
i whimper at his words as he connects his mouth to my neck, pressing a trail of open mouthed kisses from my collarbone to my jawline.
“the amount of time we’ve wasted-” i’m cut off as he rolls his hips up to meet mine, a broken moan drawn from my lips at the feeling.
“shhh, don’t think about that.” he mutters against my skin, “we know now.”
his grip on my hips loosens as he guides them down to meet his. his lips finally meet mine again, suckling on my bottom lip as i sigh in pleasure.
“bed.” i huff as he pulls away. “let’s go to your bed.”
his arms encircle my waist, holding me to him as he rises to his feet, allowing me to lock my legs around him.
he’s efficient in making his way to his bedroom, kicking the door shut behind us and dropping me onto his mattress.
“are you sure?” his blue eyes gaze into mine; swimming with concern.
i nod frantically, my fingers coiling through his belt loops to tug him back to me, “absolutely.”
he whines lowly, cupping my face gingerly with his hands.
“you don’t know how badly i’ve wanted this.”
he bends forward to kiss my lips, kneeling down on the bed between my spread legs.
the kiss quickly develops back into something lustful and intense, my hands shaking with pent up desire as they clutch at the hem of his shirt. i play with it, subtly letting him know that i want it off, but he just chuckles against my lips.
“use your words, pretty girl.”
i mewl at his remark and the way his swollen lips brush against mine.
“off, please.” i whisper through panted breaths. “i don’t want anything between us.”
he backs away, maintaining eye contact as he pulls his sweatshirt over his head, drawing the t-shirt underneath with it. i bite at the inside of my bottom lip, taking the chance to memorize every detail of his torso.
every freckle, every curve, every hair or birthmark being lasered into my brain.
he’s so perfect.
his nimble fingers drop to the button of his jeans, unfastening them and pulling them down until he’s left in nothing but his boxer briefs. his half-hardened cock bulges through his boxers, and the sight has me grinding down into the mattress.
he’s gonna ruin me.
“your turn, sweetheart.” he gives me barely any chance to do the work myself, his hands pulling my sweater over my head.
i push my staticky hair over my shoulder, lifting my hips and allowing him to pull my jeans off of my legs.
i’m sat clad in a black bra and mismatch panties, but under his gaze, i find no reason to be embarrassed that i’m not wearing something sexier.
“beautiful.” he murmurs, as though not telling me, but acknowledging it to himself.
i scoot further up the mattress, allowing him the space to crawl to me. his hands and knees sink into the soft surface as he comes to hover above me, capturing my lips with his.
one hand steadies himself as the other explores my body, grazing over my breasts as it runs down my chest. my body shudders in response and i can feel him smirk into the kiss, his thumb rubbing over the padding that covers my peaked nipples.
i yearn to feel his skin against mine, the heat of our bodies mingling; pushing me to arch my back as i slide my hands underneath to unclasp my bra.
he draws back as i slide the straps down my arms before flinging the garment onto the floor.
my nipples pebble against the frigid air, goosebumps littering my body, and i breathe heavily under Jamie’s stare, mentally urging him to do something.
“you’re fucking perfect.” he growls, dipping down to latch onto my breast. his lips close around the stiffened bud, his warm tongue circling as he sucks, and a cry of pleasure echoes off the walls as my head tips back, burrowing further into the pillow behind me.
“Jamie.” my back arches toward him, desperate underneath his touch.
he pulls away with a wet pop, kissing across my sternum and over to the other side while his fingers come to pinch and pull at the nipple he just abandoned.
“i need you.” i breathe out, voice cracking as my hands bury into his hair, pulling him back up to look at me.
“yeah?” he teases. his touch slides down my abdomen until he reaches to waistband of my panties, and as soon as i nod in permission, his fingers are slipping past the elastic band; dipping low into my wetness.
my eyes roll back as he glides his middle finger through my folds, using my slick as lubricant to circle my swollen clit.
“so wet for me.” he groans, his face burying in my neck as his lip find their place against my throat once more. “i could slide into you right now, don’t even need any foreplay.”
i moan, my hips rolling against him as he slips one finger into me, his thumb replacing to continue the contact against my clit.
“but i’m still gonna make you come on my fingers.” he states, curling the finger inside me to push against the spongey spot that makes my toes curl. “then i’m gonna make you scream on my cock. gonna fuck you like you deserve.”
he slips a seconds finger into me, providing me with the familiar pleasurable stretch as the ever growing knot in my stomach tightens further and further.
“Jamie, i’m gonna-” i can’t even finish my sentence, my jaw dropping slack as he finds the sweet spot just behind my ear.
“you gonna make a mess on my fingers?” my abdomen tightens as i clench around his fingers, my eyes squeezing shut as i whimper his name. “taking ‘em so well, like such a good girl.”
and just like that, the knot snaps, his fingers continuing their pace as he rides out my orgasm.
he pulls his head back, watching as my face scrunches in satisfaction, my breath catching in my throat as my hips stutter.
“so pretty when you come for me.” he mumbles, pulling his fingers out of my panties as i come down from my high.
my eyes flutter open, my blurry vision focusing as i watch him lick his fingers clean of my release.
my hands fly down to the waistband of his boxers, tugging recklessly.
“please.” i cry and he smiles sultrily, knocking my hands away in order to replace them with his own.
he pushes his boxers down, kicking them off his legs and the bed. his erection presses between us, his tip red and glistening with precum.
his fingers hook into the sides of my panties, pulling them down my legs and tossing them to the side.
“i need you.” i purr, my hand wrapping around his base and causing a shiver to wrack his body.
he moans, leaning over to rummage in his bedside table as i slowly pump his length. the foil packet in his hand is ripped open with his teeth before he shoves my hand away, rolling the condom down his shaft.
my legs spread even wider as he positions himself between them, sliding his cock through my wetness.
my body convulses slightly as his tip drags across my sensitive clit; and at my reaction, he smirks, repeating his actions and making me whimper.
“please,” i beg, “don’t tease me.”
he enters me with shallow strokes, taking his time to make sure i’m throughly stretched out and ready for him.
my legs clamp around his waist, my hips rolling up to meet his thrusts.
“so tight,” he sighs, his head tipping back as i bite my lip to hold in my sounds. “like you were made for me.”
as soon as he’s completely inside me, he pulls almost entirely out before pumping back in, his hand sprawling across my lower stomach to apply a light pressure.
“Jamie!” i squeak as his tip continues to hit against my g-spot with each thrust, my hands flying up to clutch at his back.
my nails dig into his skin, surely leaving crescent indentations in his pale skin.
“that’s right, pretty girl.” his voice is tight and strained, barely heard over the squelching sounds of his dick inside of my wet pussy. “scream my name.”
with each roll of his hips, his pelvis brushes against my puffy clit, my body shaking with pleasure as he fucks into me.
“feels so good.” i shudder out, craning my neck to pepper kisses against his shoulder and throat. “don’t stop.”
his pace quickens, and after my first release, my second is rapidly approaching, the pressure building in my stomach.
“fuck, i’m not gonna last.” he gruffs out, his hand slipping down from my stomach to my clit, rubbing in figure eights.
“i’m so close.” i tell him breathily, my toes curling as i clench around him.
“shit, shit, shit.” his hips stutter, his thrusts growing faster and sloppier as he chases his high.
“Jamie!” my back arches, holding my breath as my legs begin to shake around him, the pressure in my abdomen quickly releasing as i come around his cock.
my vision goes white behind my eyelids while he curses, spilling out into the condom as he continues to fuck me through our releases.
“you’re fucking perfect.” he grumbles, his weight dropping onto me as we both come down from our orgasms.
the room is silent besides the sound of our heavy breaths, and we lay there for a moment in quiet bliss.
“i love the way you whimper my name from your pretty little lips when you come.” he breaks the silence, rolling off of me.
a hiss leaves my lips as he slides out of me, sensitivity in overdrive after two orgasms.
“i love you.” i whisper, turning my head to gauge his reaction at my admission.
a warm smile spread across his lips, his eyes sparking with joy as he leans in to kiss me, “i love you too.”
unlike the last, this kiss is gentle and sweet, dripping with our aforementioned love, rather than lust.
“let’s clean you up.” he murmurs, rising from the bed.
he pulls his boxers back on, helping me into his t-shirt before he retreats from the room. when he reappears, he holds a wet washcloth.
kneeling between my spread legs, he swipes the washcloth through my folds, cleaning me of my own cum, and my hips buck up at the sensation against my overworked clit. he chuckles at my involuntary reaction, setting the washcloth in his hamper before helping me back into a clean pair of his boxers.
i stand to the side, my arms hugging my body as he changes his sheets, throwing the old ones in the washer and replacing them with fresh powder blue ones.
it’s only seven in the evening, but exhaustion plagues my body, forcing out a yawn, and he peers down at me with loving eyes.
“nap time?” he questions and i nod sleepily, humming in agreement.
he guides me back to the bed, tucking me in before he climbs into his side. his arm wraps around me, pulling me against him under the blanket, and a lazy smile gathers on my face as he cuddles into me.
he presses a soft kiss to the back of my neck before burying his nose into my hair, sighing in contentment.
the room is quiet, aiding me in my efforts to fall asleep; all the way up until i hear footsteps against the wooden floors outside the bedroom, my brows furrowing at the sound.
“is that…?” my question is quickly answered when the bedroom door flies open, revealing a hyper Trevor.
“yo, Jimbo, tree looks good!” the tanned boy grins, bouncing happily in the doorway before his sights lock on his best friend and i.
his eyes grow wide, his mouth dropping into an ‘o’ shape before he smirks, “FINALLY!”
#faithlynn’s 12 days of kinkmas#jamie drysdale#jamie drysdale x reader#jamie drysdale imagine#jamie drysdale fic#jamie drysdale blurb#jamie drysdale smut#anaheim ducks#nhl fic#nhl imagine#nhl smut#faithlynn’s writings <3
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Friends forever ?
#art#illustration#fanart#dhmis#don't hug me i'm scared#dhmis yellow guy#dhmis duck guy#dhmis red guy#yellow guy#duck guy#red guy#comic#I've had the idea for this rolling around in my head a while#actually. I also did something with a similar opening in the thing I'm writing too lol#that goes a little differently though :]
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Why are all the Lucifer x reader fics about Lucifer being overworked and busy and that's the cause of his stress/tiredness? That man has not done a single royal duty in years. His office is cluttered with ducks and he's a scatter brained mess at least at the moment. I need more fics where the reader sees the state of his office and goes "oh... my god, he's really going through it". Where's the acknowledgement of his depression? I'm gonna write it myself if I have to damn it.
#that man is NOT an overworked buisness daddy tm#hes a reclusive mess that misses his wife and daughter thats been doing nothing but making rubber ducks for the past 7 years and doesnt#always fully process what people are saying to him#rahhhh idk#mentally ill person wanting better mental illness in writing#hazbin hotel#hazbin lucifer#lucifer morningstar#hazbin hotel lucifer#x reader#hazbin x reader#lucifer x reader#lucifer morningstar x reader#fanfiction#hazbin hotel fanfiction
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❝𝐍𝐎𝐁𝐎𝐃𝐘 𝐆𝐄𝐓𝐒 𝐌𝐄 || 𝐓𝐑𝐄𝐕𝐎𝐑 𝐙𝐄𝐆𝐑𝐀𝐒❞
I am back!! I apologize for being inactive for a few weeks now, I am with my family on vacation which is why I haven’t been updating any of my fics for a while. This fic has been in my drafts for a while now and decided to take time and polish it for you guys. Hope you guys enjoy this short fic 🤍
first fic for my og baby, z!!!
Pairing: Trevor Zegras x Reader
Summary: You comfort your boyfriend after his outburst for being ejected from his final game of the season.
Warnings: angst, temper tantrum Trevor, sad!trev, angry!trev, hockey fighting, slight argument, yelling, cursing, haters, pressure, negative self talk, comfort, fluff by the end.
NHL Masterlist || Main Masterlist
Chaos
It was a mess.
The fans were screaming and pounding their fists on the glass— they were either screaming in joy and amusement or anger and frustration.
However, you sat up at the premium box where the players’ family and friends were seated— the WAGS notoriously which you were a part of for a long time now.
You remained at the edge of your seat, confused.
You had no idea what had happened.
It happened too quickly that you were sure you had a whiplash.
One minute the two teams were playing and then the next they were in a huge pile pushing and fighting each other— your boyfriend being at the very center of that fight.
Craning your neck up at the big screen to see a close up of what was happening, you see your boyfriend on top of one of the opposing players— the two throwing punches at each other.
Fighting was normal in hockey— it was not something new to see, especially from Trevor but you knew that this was something entirely different by the look on your boyfriend’s face.
He was furious.
You didn’t even know that you were gripping on to your seat so tight as you watched the screen.
The other WAGS were comforting you as you gnawed on your lower lips that you were sure it was bleeding, just like Trevor was.
He was bleeding.
“Son of a bitch.” You muttered under your breath in concern and frustration seeing the cut on your boyfriend’s forehead.
You hated seeing him hurt.
Yet it didn’t end there because even when the two were held back by the referees and their teammates in opposite sides they were still yelling at each other— Trevor more so.
You couldn’t really hear their argument obviously but you could make out a few “fuck yous” and a “you’re a fucking bitch” coming out of Trevor’s mouth.
The referees were not having it and decided the two should be put in the penalty box but as they were being escorted there— Trevor’s mouth kept going and going.
Asking the referee over and over again “what is the penalty for?”, “what did I do?”
And then finally…
“Fuck you! You don’t know shit! I didn’t do shit!”
To the referee’s face.
You knew Trevor was frustrated and angry, he has been for a while now this season but that was downright disrespectful.
Because of his words to the referee, they had announced for Trevor to be ejected from the game— the last game of this season.
You watched stoically as your boyfriend glided out of the ice to the tunnel where he was seen in the big screen throwing his hockey stick against the wall— hitting it again and again.
That was it for you— how can he be so stupid to do something like that?
You jumped out of your seat and headed out of the premium box.
You speed walked down the steps where the fans were seated and headed to the glass next to the tunnel.
You were aware of the stares and greetings the fans were giving you but you couldn’t give two shits at the moment— you nodded your head towards Jamie who was already watching you in concern once he saw the angry look on your face.
As you reached the door to the locker room, you promptly apologized to the security guard who was seen on screen scared shitless because of your boyfriend’s temper tantrum.
Pushing the doors of the locker room, you were greeted by Trevor who was seated on his cubicle— his head down as his hands covered his face, his gear now fully discarded on the floor.
The room was so silent that the only thing you could hear was Trevor’s heavy breathing.
“Trevor, what the fuck was that?!” You said placing yourself in front of him.
He remained quiet, his eyes still trained on the ground ignoring your presence.
“Trevor!”
Finally meeting your furious gaze with an even more furious gaze from him, he then snickered— grinning sarcastically as if what had just happened was a joke.
“What the fuck did you think happened, Y/N? I got checked and got a penalty, then I get ejected for God knows what for–” he started ranting in frustration before I cut him off.
“You both got a penalty for the fight, Trev— I don’t care about any of that. You got ejected for saying shit to the referee! Don’t lie to me, I could read you like a book.” You scolded him as you paced back and forth in front of him with your hands on your hips.
Trevor looked at you equally frustrated that you were frustrated at him.
“I was just asking him why I got the fucking penalty!” He shouted.
“No! You were being disrespectful and desperate— and don’t talk to me like that, Trevor Zegras! You can talk to your teammates and opponents like that for all I care but you do not fucking talk to me like that, you hear me?” You glared at him venom spilling out of your mouth.
With that said Trevor snapped back to reality, the demon that possessed him leaving his body. The anger slowly died down as he stared at you with guilt and sadness— your heart crying out for him.
“I’m sorry. I’m sorry I yelled at you baby.” He whispered, grabbing you hand as he pulled you to sit on his lap.
You snuggled on his chest as he held you so tight, as if he was afraid you would disappear.
“You we’re right. I was desperate, this season has been the worst one, baby. The pressure from the fans, from myself, the continuous losses, the hate from the media— I just lost it out there cause I knew this was the last game before playoffs and we obviously didn’t qualify. I was desperate, baby.” He sniffled as you let him let out his worries.
You have been dating Trevor for almost five years now and you knew how hard working he was, how much he loved hockey, and how good he was at it— when Trevor loves something, he loves hard which means he feels more, hence why he gets angry easily.
You couldn’t blame him. It’s a tough sport— he has every right to feel the way he feels.
“I know, my love. I’m not mad at you, I’m disappointed. Not because you got in a fight, fights are normal. I’m disappointed because you were being disrespectful. You were being disrespectful to the referee, you said mean stuff and he was only doing his job. Not to mention you scared the security guard when you were throwing your stick.”
Trevor nodded his head from the crook of your neck where he was placing kisses as some sort of silent apology from him.
“You want to be at the finals, I know— it’s your dream but you gotta understand that everyone in league wants it as much as you do, Z . Which is why you do what you do, it’s is why you compete every year for it. But as much as I hate to admit it, baby— it’s not your turn, it’s the harsh truth, you didn’t make it to the playoffs— you can’t keep beating yourself up because of it. You can’t change what already happened. What you can do is to be better not only as a player but as a person.” You told him softly as he rocked you both back and forth, still holding onto you tight.
“I know. I’ll be better, I promise— for you.” He looks at you with pure awe and adoration.
“Do it for you, Trev.”
Sighing he cups your face in his hand, caressing your cheeks as he studies your face before nodding.
“I will.” He whispered before clasping his lips onto yours.
His pain, his worries, and frustration all leaving his body as he kissed you.
“I love you so much, Y/N.”
“I love you more, Trev.”
dividers: @cafekitsune
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Alright, now for something completely different. Today is National Handwriting Day! So we thought it'd be fun to do a classic handwriting meme, you know - the style where the meme asks a series of questions and you're supposed to answer them by hand-writing the replies.
A Very Duck Prints Press Handwriting Meme
Rules: answer the following questions by handwriting your replies then posting a picture to Tumblr (or the platform of your choice). Then, tag five friends to do the same!
Questions:
Write your url.
Write the name you write under.
Write "The quick brown fox jumped over the lazy dog."
Copy out a favorite book quote.
Write anything you want using your non-dominant hand.
Draw a duck!
Tag five friends.
GO!
#duck prints press#meme#handwriting meme#hand writing meme#when we started planning this two weeks ago i was definitely not expecting this morning to turn into a clusterduck lmao
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