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flowersandbigteeth · 2 months

Note

Now I’m thinking about how cute of a story it’d be if a human woman reader had a preference towards monster men, but she kept getting used by a lot of monster fetishists to fill their own fantasies. Getting her heart broken constantly as they didn’t see her as a being with real feelings. And eventually she gives up…But of course x monster comes into her life and tries his best to court her cause he actually does love her and see her as a person. Reader of course is very jaded and thinks he’ll use and abuse her too, just like all the others.

If you’re still interested in writing somber stories with a happily ever after in the end, something like this could be fun to explore. The ugly exploitive relationship dynamics taken onto human women by monster men.

Like just imagine reader is sitting in a park, having a picnic, a monster comes up to her, is pleasant, and reader thinks that this is going to be “the one” finally, and gets her heart broken again when he asks her for a one night stand. Or even worse…hands her a card to work at a human x monster exclusive private fetish club…

Um...so I ended up with something close to this, but kind of with a different spin. I've been wanting to do a mothman for soooooo long and this just came together in the right way. So here he is ^_^

Mothman (Roth) x f reader

Word Count: 9.5K

General Plot: Your gargoyle crush asks you out on a date and things don't go as planned.

TW: nsfw mothman smut, moth genetalia, a lot of teeth, kidnapping, sexy pheromones, a bit of violence, reader being tied up and gagged, revenge, mating and soft yandere vibes, bad boyfriends

“Five, ten, fifteen…fifteen,” you sighed counting your tips as you sat on the curb outside the kitchen of the Italian restaurant you worked at.

Tears bubbled in your eyes as you realized you hadn’t made nearly enough to cover the rent you were already late on.

“How you doing mite,” a deep voice rumbled behind you.

You heard a squeak and then a thunk as Tyre, the chef, dumped some trash. Wiping your eyes, you peered up at him, trying to hide the redness on your cheeks. Tyre was a handsome gargoyle with slate gray skin and piercing blue eyes. He smirked as your eyes met. Sniffling, you tried to clean up your face.

“Nothing, nothing, I’m fine.”

He glanced down at the odd dollars and some change in your hand.

“Bad night?”

You sighed.

“It’s always a bad night.”

He scratched his chin, eyes traveling from the top of your head to the slip-proof shoes you had to wear.

“There’s someplace I ought to take you,” he said, eyes taking on a predatory gleam. “You like monsters, right?”

You blushed, unsure what to say now that your secret wish seemed like it might be coming true. You’d always had a crush on Tyre. He was big and strong with a rakish smile that made all the waitresses swoon.

“Um…yeah, I guess.”

“Good,” he said, grinning. “You’re off tomorrow night. I saw it on the schedule.”

You were going to beg for another shift from one of the other waitresses, but if you were only going to make a few bucks, you figured you couldn’t pass up the chance for a date with your crush.

“Yeah,” you murmured, your breath a gasp.

He pulled a phone from an apron pocket and handed it to you.

“Put your address in here. I’ll pick you up. Wear something pretty.”

Overcome, you could hardly speak, typing your address and phone number into the phone.

“See you tomorrow night, mite,” he winked before walking back inside.

The door slam made you jump, but your heart was already pattering. Tyre had finally noticed you! Ever since you’d started that job, you’d been in love with him. It was true. You did like monsters, but not in a weird way. You were curious, but you were too shy ever to ask Tyre any questions about himself. You didn’t want him to think you were a weirdo fetishist trying to get in his pants for a thrill. But finally, he’d noticed you and asked you on a date!

Despite the lack of money in your pocket, you hopped up from the curb with a pep in your step. Maybe something was finally going right for you for once.

When you arrived home, you frowned at the yellow notice taped to your door.

EVICTION NOTICE: VACATE THE PREMISES WITHIN 15 DAYS OR YOU WILL BE REMOVED

Your breath caught in your throat, and you wondered if you should call Tyre and cancel your date. Walking inside, you frowned. Your apartment was small, if you could even call it an apartment. It was only one room with no kitchen or bathroom. You had to use the common toilet down the hall, and you either ate food you brought home from the restaurant or cooked noodles on your hotplate. Still, you couldn’t even afford this little closet.

Where were you supposed to go? Pulling out the crumpled fifteen dollars, you stuffed it in the large mug with all your tips. You already knew how much was inside. You counted it over and over again every night, hoping it would magically bloom to a higher sum.

One hundred and fifteen dollars. That’s how much you had to figure out a new home with. While tears bit at your eyes, your feet were exhausted from running around all day, so you flopped on your dipping air mattress and fell asleep.

You woke to the next morning to your phone buzzing and grinned at the message on the screen.

“Pick you up at 9.”

Scooping up the phone, you beamed. As you dropped it on your chest, you indulged yourself in a quick fantasy. You’d go on a date, Tyre would fall madly in love with you, and then you’d move into his flat, have his little gargoyle babies, and everything would turn out just fine. This had to have happened for a reason, right? All afternoon, you skipped around your apartment, trying on your meager array of outfits for just the right one.

When 9 came around, you sat on the edge of your bed, checking and rechecking the message. 9, he did say 9, right? Right. He’ll be here.

Thirty minutes later, there was a heavy knock on the door. You tripped over yourself to answer it, eyes lighting up the moment you met the cool blue on the other side. He looked you over, a meaty hand braced against the doorframe, showing off his massive biceps.

“Look at you, mite,” he said, brushing a curl of hair from your face. “You clean up nice.”

“Ah, thanks, Tyre. It’s nothing really,” you half whispered, words having a difficult time making themselves past your lips.

“Come on,” he said, taking you by the arm. “You’re gonna have fun where we’re going.”

“Where are we going?” you asked, from the inside of Tyre’s Denali, as he cruised down a dark alley.

You had only just realized it was a little late to be going to a restaurant, so where was he taking you? He only smirked at you, eyes glittering in the dim vehicle.

“You’ll see,” was all he would say.

You should have been concerned, but the truth was you were down bad. You were about to be evicted, had hardly any friends, and no boyfriend. Your last situationship with a werewolf had been a humiliating disaster. You needed this. He pulled into a parking lot, flashing a black card, and a gate lifted, allowing you inside.

“Here we are,” he said when he parked, circling the car to help you out.

When he’d set you on the ground, he frowned for a moment, scrubbing his chin.

“Let’s’ fix this,” he said, grabbing the tight skirt you were wearing and hiking it up your hips so it was more of a mini skirt. Then he yanked on the neck of your sweater, pushing it down over your shoulders.

“What? Where are we going?” you asked, getting a little more concerned.

He only looked at you lazily, reaching a hand down to smudge the makeup at the corner of your eyes more.

“A private club. Freaky girls like you love this shit,” he assured you, though he was becoming less and less assuring.

What did he mean by “freaky girls”? You were just a normal girl. You liked reading books and cooking when you had the chance. There was nothing “freaky” about you at all.

Grabbing your shoulders with his big hands, he shoved you forward through the dark lot. Around you, large, monster-sized, luxury vehicles were parked in neat rows. When you reached an odd metal door, he knocked with his knuckles. A hatch slid open, and bright green eyes peered out.

“What do you want?”

They narrowed on Tyre.

“You’re not welcome here.”

You gulped, cheeks reddening, looking between the pair of eyes and Tyre.

“Tell Roth I brought him a new girl,” he said, “Told him I’d pay my debt.”

The eyes flicked down to you for a moment, and the door squeaked open.

“Tyre, what is going-?”

You didn’t get a chance to speak as the large, man with pale skin and green eyes snatched your wrist up and dragged you away from him.

“Tyre! Tyre!” you half shouted, confused as he jerked you down a dark hall, but looking back, the gargoyle only smiled and waved at you.

“Stop screaming. You’re disturbing the ambiance,” the man holding you in his firm fist, hissed.

When he opened his mouth, you could see sharp fangs framing straight white teeth. The rest of your words caught in your throat as he dragged you through the club.

On a large platform in the center, human women dressed in skimpy outfits danced on stage to oddly alluring music. Where the bright stage lights didn’t shine, you could see monsters of all kinds with human women clinging to them engaged in a frightening variety of sexual activity.

Three gargoyles were sharing one woman, splayed on a table. A centaur had a woman strapped to him with some sort of harness, and your eyes popped when you saw the way he used her. Your heart started to race as you put two and two together.

You’d heard about these clubs. Places where well-paying monsters could play around with human women to fulfill their fetish fantasies. Yes, you liked monsters, but you would have never stepped into a place like this, not for all the money in the world! You experienced enough creepy fetishists as a waitress. It seemed the only time anyone offered you any real money was to take you home for a night of their own entertainment.

Betrayal cut you to the core, remembering Tyre’s words. He’d brought you here to repay a debt! He never had any plan of dating you at all! You were nothing more than a trinket to be traded!

Panic startled you to your senses, and you started to fight the vampire holding you.

“LET ME GO! LET ME GO!” you screamed, jerking so hard on your wrist that you thought you might break it.

He narrowed his eyes at you.

“Jesus, that bastard. He tricked you to come here, didn’t he?” he hissed, frowning.

He paused, thinking for a second, and for a moment, you thought he might let you go.

“Still, I’d better take you to Roth and see what he wants to do with you. Can’t have you running off to the cops and blowing up our whole operation.”

Clubs like these weren’t exactly legal. Along with the girls, they usually sold drugs and were the sort of place where you could hire a shady person to do below-board jobs.

To silence your screams, and to the amusement of a few of the monsters standing nearby with drinks, he slipped the tie from around his neck and tied it tightly around your head, before he stripped off his belt and used it to secure your hands. Then he flopped you over his broad shoulder, carrying you out of the larger room up a set of stairs. You bit on the gag, desperately trying to saw away at it with your teeth, but it was no use.

You couldn’t see, bouncing on his shoulder, but you heard a door open, and then you saw it shut.

“Tyre brought you a girl, boss,” he said.

Suddenly, he flopped you on the floor, forgetting you were a fragile human. You squealed as you hit the carpet hard, pain radiating up your side. Looking up, you froze in fear. The room was dim, the edges hardly visible, the only light a small lamp on a large wooden desk. Peering past the light, you met the gaze of two glowing, red orbs on the face of a dark body you could hardly make out. All you could tell was that it looked large.

“Why’s she tied up?”

The voice was almost a hiss, like silk sheets rubbing together.

“Tyre tricked her into coming here.”

The orbs disappeared for a moment, then appeared again along with a long sigh.

“That idiot.”

“What do you want me to do with her? Dump her? Put her on the floor? She’s pretty enough. She’ll make us some money.”

Your heart pounded, as your future was being discussed without you. Dump her?

“Leave,” the voice barked, sounding irritated.

You whimpered as you heard the heavy footsteps of the vampire leaving and the door slamming behind him. There was a rustling, and the big body behind the desk grew much larger. It wasn’t a shape you recognized, two large protrusions arching over either side of its head and then two more feathery-looking ones on top. Heavy steps echoed in the quiet room as it rounded the furniture and loomed over you.

A clawed hand emerged from the darkness, clutching your chin, slowly turning it from side to side as his red eyes examined you.

“Hmm. A little flame,” he purred.

You tried to scream again, but all that came out was a muffled whimper.

The protrusions jumped as the creature chuckled. The monster kneeled down next to you, and only then, you could make out his features, just barely. His neck was thick and fuzzy, as was his body, the angular slabs of muscles softened by a coating of black down. Up close, you could see the two side protrusions were actually silver wings, and the ones on top, were elegant antennae. They twitched as he looked you over. His facial features were invisible behind more black fuzz.

“I’ve been wanting a pet,” he said more to himself than you.

The red orbs narrowed to slits.

“Do you know what we do at this club?” he asked.

You’d gotten a pretty good idea when the vampire gave you the impromptu walk-through. So you nodded.

His lips cracked, and jagged white teeth glinted at you.

“Good.”

Clawed fingers slipped through your hair, scraping your scalp.

“You’ll be well fed and kept, but you are my pet. Mine.”

You let out another muffled squeal, shaking your head as tears tumbled down your cheeks. A thumb slid through the wetness before traveling to his red tongue.

“Mmm,” he said, smirking. “Even your tears are sweet.”

By that point, you were hyperventilating into your gag, the world getting spinny as you panicked. You’d started your night daydreaming about gargoyle babies, and now you were being adopted as some kind of fuck pet for a monster boss. Your breaths grew increasingly shallow until the darkness writhing at the edges of your vision merged into a large black spot, and the world went silent.

—

You jerked awake by the sound of screaming. The stone floor beneath your cheek was cold, so you sat up abruptly, only to awkwardly flop over onto your side. You were still gagged, but now you were bound by your ankles, as well as your wrists. The room you were in was dark except for a small lamp hanging from the ceiling. It put out just enough light to see the large figure of the mothman who’d taken you as his pet and an orc you didn’t recognize. You shrank back against the wall behind you, immediately afraid of what would come next, but their attention wasn’t on you.

Another scream pierced the air, making you wince. It sounded almost like…Tyre.

“Please! Please! She came willingly, I swear!” he said, his tone frantic, all the aloof coolness you’d crushed on erased.

“Did you tell her what we do here before you brought her?” the orc barked.

“She was dying to get her cunt pumped with monster cock. All those girls love that shit,” he spat. “She’s just a whore like the rest of them.”

“Tyre?” you murmured, but it only came out as a quiet grunt behind the gag.

Roth nodded at the Orc and you heard chain rattle, then a crunch as he whipped the heavy metal into Tyre’s face. For a moment, you almost felt redeemed. Like Roth might care about your honor, but his next words evaporated that thought.

“You know I don't like liars, Tyre,” he hissed, his voice still terrifyingly quiet and emotionless. “You brought me a problem. Now I've got to tie up a bunch of loose ends.”

You were shocked Tyre could still speak, though his words garbled.

“She's a slut! She wants it! Just ask her! She was ready to open her legs for me for nothing!”

Tears poured down your cheeks, hearing the gargoyle you'd been shyly admiring for a year now finally revealing what he really thought of you. He was just like your last monster “boyfriend” who’d dumped you when he realized you were more than just a doll to play with.

One night after hooking up, his phone started going nuts while he was sleeping. Unable to help yourself, you'd glanced at his texts, humiliated to find he'd been detailing his conquest to his packmates. You were just a joke.

A “monster-cock hungry slut,” in his words. You stupidly let him sleep peacefully through the night, only asking him about it in the morning. You remembered his sharp green eyes full of humor and his disgusting sneer when you'd confronted him.

“What'd you think this was? You really think a weak little human like you is good for anything but a quick fuck? Don’t fool yourself. You wanted my knot like a dirty little bitch in heat and I gave it to you. End of story.”

You broke into big, ugly, wet sobs as your whole world collapsed around you. Your body shuddered against the gritty cold floor, tears forming dark spots on the surface.

Across the room Roth’s antenna twitched. He gave the orc a look before crossing the room to crouch down next to you. He dug a thick hand into your hair, lifting your head. Your tears blurred his glowing eyes to wobbly blobs.

“You're crying for him? Is he telling the truth? Are we wrong to punish him?”

You sniffed, whimpering and shook your head. He dropped your hair abruptly, the gesture suddenly becoming something close to comfort. He patted your head a little stiffly as if he wasn't sure what to do with you.

You watched him blink, looking away for a moment before he scooped you up, curling his wings around the two of you. He carried you back across the room, turning your face into his soft chest before he spoke.

“I want his teeth when you're done with him,” he hissed at the Orc.

Tyre begged behind you, his voice brassy.

“She's lying! That bitch is lying!”

Roth didn't even flinch, striding confidently out of the room. As he carried you down a dark hall you heard screams following you until they finally faded.

Roth walked slowly up a long staircase until he reached an elevator. It occurred to you, every room you’d been in was dim, this elevator included, just light enough for someone with average eyesight not to trip over themselves.

Your stomach dropped as the elevator ascended, finally letting out an echoing DING when it reached the desired floor.

He stepped forward and you peeked out from behind his wing.

You were in a beautiful, but dark penthouse. Through the wall to wall windows you could see the stars of the night sky twinkling through. The furnishings were expensive, all black and chrome.

“Welcome home,” the mothman said, his voice ever soft.

He set you down on a black couch and you flinched as he crouched in front of you. His long nails picked at the knots binding your wrists and ankles until they were free.

The moment your limbs were your own again, you slid to the opposite side of the couch, frantically untangling the gag.

“Let me go!” were the first words that bubbled out of your lips.

Roth’s blood eyes narrowed at you. It was unnerving you couldn't really read his expression, his facial features obscured by dark fur.

“Go where?” he asked, calmly, his head tipped to the side. “I had my associates look into you. (Y/N), broke waitress, evicted…where will you go?”

Your cheeks burned that he knew so much about you.

“I don't know. Not here. Not a pet.”

“You'll live better here as a pet than on the street as a stray.”

You blinked and he was a few feet closer to you, stretching his long fingers out to drag a knuckle down your cheek.

“No matter. I'm not letting you go.”

You snorted.

“Until you get bored with me and toss me out again.”

His eyes became narrow slits.

“Did someone throw you out, (Y/N)?”

Your eyes burned into his, heavy with rage. This was just the cherry on your monster loving cake wasn't it? At least, he was honest and called you what you were to him. A toy. A pet. An object to break and throw away.

“It doesn't matter. You're all the same.”

You heard a hiss and then his claws pricked your cheeks, pinching your face. Bright eyes filled your vision.

“Are we?” He asked.

Your confidence faltered and you swallowed a lump in your throat.

“You own a human fetish club. Explain to me how I'm wrong. You see us as weak objects to be passed around.”

He bared his sharp teeth at you.

“You will not be passed around. You. Are. Mine.”

You drew your legs underneath your chin, glaring at him, but winced as a sharp pain shot through you.

“Ouch!”

His eyes widened and his fingers left your cheeks, clawing at the tight skirt you still wore. You tried to wiggle away, but his wing boxed you in so he could glide a thumb over your bare skin. It seemed impossible he could see anything in such a dark room, but he growled at the painful spot on your hip where you'd landed when the vampire dropped you.

“Don't!” you hissed, jerking your skirt down.

You watched his eyes open and shut, before he stood.

“Damian!” he said so softly, you weren't sure who he was talking to.

You jumped as an elegant Naga appeared, wiping his hands with a towel.

“You called, sir?” He asked his yellow eyes drifting to you only for a moment before they returned to Roth.

“Bring Vince. Make her some food.”

The Naga nodded sharply and disappeared.

He sat next to you on the couch, stretching his wings slowly and resting his forearms on the tops of his legs. Seeing him closely, now, you could see he was tall with broad shoulders, not including his massive wingspan.

“The girls I employ want to be here,” he said, turning his face to you. “They get paid well and they enjoy their work.”

“Is that your pitch?” you sneered.

He flashed his teeth, chuckling.

“No, you won't be working the floor, but you should know the facts,” he said. “Tyre broke a pact bringing you here. I don't kidnap humans.”

“Except me.”

“You're a unique situation.”

“I won't tell anyone if you let me go,” you promised.

He was hard to read, but you got the impression he was examining you.

“I'm not letting you go. I want you.”

“What the fuck does that mean?” You blurted, your heart starting to race again.

Roth didn't have to answer as the elevator dinged and the vampire from before stepped out.

“You hurt her. Apologize.”

Vince’s eyes found you and his eyebrows rose. Giving the mothman a contrite glance, he crossed the room, bending down to one knee in front of you and dipping his head.

“Apologies, miss, I was too rough with you. It won't happen again.”

“Good. Get back to work,” Roth said, tone blunt.

“Have a pleasant evening, miss.”

Vince stood and winked at you with a little smirk, before he boarded the elevator again and disappeared.

“Come here, you need to eat,” Roth said, gesturing for you to follow him.

You wanted to say no, but you hadn't eaten, expecting a quiet dinner with Tyre so you slowly got to your feet and crept after him.

In the dining room Damian had set the table with a little flickering candle and red roses. Roth politely pulled out your seat for you, encouraging you to sit down. Though you were hungry, you glared at the food in front of you as he took his own seat.

“Something wrong?” he asked placing a napkin in his lap.

“How do I know you haven’t drugged this?”

“Why would I?”

You blinked at him, opening and closing your mouth as you thought of what accusations to spew.

“I don’t know! So you can have your way with me or whatever!”

Though you couldn’t see his lips, a triangle of teeth appeared as if he were smirking.

“I don’t need to drug your food to do that. Personally, I would rather my lover be conscious when I have her.”

You crossed your arms.

“How many lovers have you had?”

He snorted, picking up his knife and carefully cutting his meat into little cubes.

“That’s a rather personal question little flame,” he said, before sticking a bit of meat in his mouth and chewing. “What would you say if I asked you the same thing?”

Your cheeks burned, realizing it was a very rude question. His low, scratchy voice drove you insane. Every word he spoke was soft, deliberate, and calm. None of your fussing seemed to move him, much. Unsure what else to say, you turned your attention to your food. The first bite was apprehensive, but after you’d swallowed that, your hunger took over and you quickly consumed the rest.

“Damian is a good cook,” you commented.

“I can tell he’s happy to have someone new to cook for,” he said, scooting a vegetable out of the way with his fork. “I usually have the same thing every night but this is new.”

Your cheeks burned that he’d made such an effort, but with nothing left on your plate, you weren’t sure what to do next.

“Come with me,” he said rising.

You narrowed your eyes on the vegetables he’d left behind, only eating the meat, but followed him out of the room.

The penthouse was large and airy, the atmosphere perfumed with rows of night blooming flowers arranged in planters outside of the open glass doors.

“You keep the doors open?” you asked.

“Though I enjoy my luxuries, my people rested in trees for thousands of years. I like to feel the breeze,” he explained. “Don’t be concerned. You are very safe here. I have security posted everywhere.”

Your eyes jumped to your forehead hearing that.

“Are you often under attack?”

“My business is a dangerous one, but I’ve been at it for many years. You are safe. This is our room.”

He opened a heavy door and led you into a sumptuous bedroom. A four poster bed sat at the center with silver chiffon curtains fluttering in the breeze flowing in through the open balcony doors. Moonflowers and datura swayed on an arbor framing the entrance, the moon hanging in the center. It’s blue light cast a silver glow over the plush white chairs and vanity.

“Our room?” you gulped. “I have to sleep with you?”

He chuckled.

“I don’t sleep on a bed, usually,” he said. “My kind sleep upright on a perch. The bed is for your comfort.”

You shuddered, a dark thought passing through your head.

“H-how…how did you know you would need that?”

In the darkness, you followed his red eyes.

“Damian brought it up while you were resting.”

You wrinkled your nose. Collapsed from panic on a hard stone floor while he tortured Tyre was hardly resting. He suddenly turned to you, grabbing you by your waist and placing you gently on the bed.

“W-what are you doing?” you mewled as his claws curled around the edge of your skirt, scooting it further up your thigh.

He pinned you with a glance, before turning his attention to the bedside table and extracting a little pot. Opening it, he scooped some gel from inside and carefully smoothed it over the darkened bit of skin where a bruise was forming. It tingled, easing the slight ache.

His eyes lingered on the patch of skin, before his claws split the fabric.

“Stop! Stop it!” you screeched, trying to push him away with your smaller hands.

It was only then you really understood how strong he really was. He didn’t budge, but captured your wrists in a hand while the other shredded your sweater.

“I’ll buy you better clothes,” he assured you when you were sitting underneath him in only your underwear.

You regretted wearing your skimpiest pair, as you’d planned on seducing Tyre with them. Now you felt naked and vulnerable, the red light of Roth’s eyes outlining your curves.

He swallowed, heavily, making a small grunt in the back of his throat before he released you and stood.

“Sleep.” he said, glancing over his shoulder. “The sun is rising.”

Peering past him, you could see the sky getting ever so slightly lighter. He pressed a button and heavy blackout blinds lowered automatically. The sliding door slid shut, making the room pitch black except for Roth’s eyes still shining in the dark.

You let out a yip as his wings fluttered, stirring the air in the room and he delicately perched on the rail at the end of the bed.

“Are you going to watch me sleep all day?” you barked, crossing your arms.

“Yes.”

You sputtered your displeasure, but weren’t sure what to say. Hurriedly scooting under the coverlet, without meaning to you let out a satisfied hiss as you sank into the bed. Having slept on a droopy air mattress for many years, this bed felt like you were nestled in clouds. As much as you would have liked to stay awake, glaring at Roth until he went away, your eyes slid shut and you drifted off.

–

“Miss, miss,” you heard a voice in your ear.

You pried your eyes open, taking a moment to remember where you were. Sitting up suddenly, you were met with Damian’s yellow gaze.

“Time to wake up,” he said, “I have breakfast for you in the dining room.”

You blinked, realizing you could see him fairly well, and glanced at the windows to see the blackout blinds had been lifted and the sun was well on it’s way below the horizon.

“But it’s evening,” you muttered.

He smirked, slithering around you to open a door and then another.

“We operate on the boss’s clock here. Mothmen like the dark, they don’t see to well in the sunlight. Here, this is the bathroom and the closet is here. I spent the afternoon purchasing you some new clothes, but if you’d like something else, just tell me.”

“Oh, um…okay.”

Damian gave you a slight bow and slid out of the room, shutting the door behind him. Taking a breath, you climbed out of the coverlet, first examining the balcony. Standing just in the doorway, since you were still dressed in lingerie, you could see the whole city spread out before you, streetlights flicking on one by one as the sun set.

On the deck, along with the flowers, was a swinging chair and a small fish pond. You watched the white finned fish swimming in lazy circles below a few lotus flowers before you went back inside.

Poking your head in the bathroom, you found it was quite luxurious and to your surprise when you flicked the switch a real light turned on, not the dimmed bulbs everywhere else. Damian, you guessed, had stocked it with a fresh electric toothbrush and all the essentials. Oddly, there were either the exact products you had in your bathroom or the not value brand versions. Instead of the face cream you used, there was a high end cream you’d always dreamed of buying. The same with the makeup, hair supplies, and soaps. Satisfied you had what you needed, you crept into the closet.

It was one of those fancy closets, you’d seen in magazines with clothes arranged by color and an island in the center full of shelves holding jewelry, scarves, shoes, and-

A sharp scream burst from your lips.

Damian appeared in the doorway, out of breath as if he’d been slithering at top speed.

“What’s wrong?” he gasped.

You pointed a shaking finger at what was a multi compartment jewelrybox, but instead of jewels inside there were carefully arranged, polished, teeth. Hundreds of teeth.

“What the fuck is that?” you squealed, jumping behind Damian’s body as if he could shield you from them.

He let out a sharp breath, looking relieved.

“Heavens, I thought something was wrong,” he sighed.

Your eyes darted between him and the box of teeth.

“There IS something wrong! What the fuck?”

“That’s the boss’s collection,” he said.

“D-do those teeth come from people?” you whispered. “Are they real?”

Damian nodded as if that was the most perfectly normal thing in the world.

“He likes to collect the teeth of his enemies. It’s some mothman cultural thing. It’s kind of neat if you take a good look at them. There are specimens from several species.”

“He keeps them in his closet?”

“Where else would he keep them?”

You felt light headed and slumped against the vanity sitting just by the closet door. Were Tyre’s teeth already part of the collection?

“It’s part of his culture, (Y/N),” he said. “Children in your culture put their teeth under their pillow for their parent’s to collect. Think of it that way.”

You shook your head, rubbing your eyes.

“Please, please stop. I don’t want to hear any more.”

“Is anything else the matter? Do you like your clothes?” he asked pleasantly.

“I-I didn’t get a chance to look.”

Damian nodded and slipped into the closet, returning with a handful of items.

“Why not wear this outfit,” he said. “I saw it on a Pinterest board and I think it will suit your figure.”

“Er…thanks,” you said, taking the pile as he slipped out of the room so you could dress.

You took a long shower, trying to clear your mind of the teeth cache you’d stumbled across. When it was finally time to put on clothes, you had to admit, the outfit Damian had chosen was quite stylish, though you looked a bit like a mafia wife with a diamond tennis necklace around your neck and matching bracelets on your wrist.

You crept down the hall to the dining room to find Roth waiting on you, surrounded by paperwork. You yelped when to his side you saw another monster you recognized handcuffed and gagged on his knees next to him. His nose was bloody and one eye was swollen.

“What the- Elijah…what?”

Roth’s eyes rose to you, lingering for a moment before he gestured towards your breakfast.

“Eat, your food is getting cold,” he murmured, turning his attention back to whatever he was working on as if the monster by his calf wasn’t eyeing you for help.

You hardly noticed if the fluffy pancakes Damian had provided were good or not, because you were trying to sort out what the monster “boyfriend” who’d jilted you a year ago was doing handcuffed in the dining room. It was hard to know where to look and words escaped you as your mind spun with messy thoughts.

Halfway through your meal, Roth gathered his stack of papers and tapped them on the desk to straighten them before he spoke.

“Now that that’s all done,” he said. “Time to other business.”

He stood, dragging Elijah by his collar along the table to you, leaning on it casually as if everything about this wasn’t very, very illegal.

“What would you like me to do with this one?” he asked, a clawed hand slipping through your freshly washed hair.

You stared up at him for a moment, a bite of pancake still half chewed in your mouth before you swallowed it hard. Your mind’s eye immediately went to the tooth collection in the closet.

“Um…I don’t know? What do you mean ‘do with him?’”

Elijah whimpered loudly, begging for mercy.

Roth’s eyes narrowed and he kicked him sharply to get him to sit still.

“Well, I can give him to my boys and have his teeth extracted or you can keep him around the club polishing the girl’s shoes if it makes you feel any better. They make a game of bullying miscreants. I’ll only take his fangs and claws if you’d like to show him mercy. But he’s not getting away without a punishment.”

He grabbed the werewolf, by the neck, his red eyes reflecting in Elijah’s green.

“Monsters like you make me sick. I ought to take your balls.”

He pried his lips apart, his thumb running over a fang. Though Roth’s voice was low, it was thick with a terrifying cruelty.

“All that power, all the gifts you’ve been given and you use them to trick the ones smaller than you. You could have had a willing human woman on her knees in front of you playing whatever games you like, but you get off on torturing the sweet ones.”

Elijah’s eyes were wide, full of terror. They flicked to you, begging for forgiveness.

“I don’t want you to kill him,” you said, your voice thin.

Roth looked up at you and tipped his head to the side.

“Pity.”

His eyes flicked down to his captive.

“I suppose you have a new job, hm?”

He narrowed his eyes again, head dipping down so he was close to Elijah’s snout.

“(Y/N) is very kind. I am not. If you get into trouble, I’ll take what’s left of your teeth and dump the rest of you in a ditch. Understand?”

Vince appeared from the shadows making you jump and dragged Elijah out.

“Have fun with the girls!” he called after him.

“Was that really necessary?” you asked, glaring at Roth. “Yes, he broke my heart, but his fangs? His claws? Threatening to kill him?”

Roth slipped a knuckle under your chin, his eyes arcing in what must have been a smile.

“My job is not easy and my world is not kind. Strength and cruelty are sometimes required to take care of the ones who can’t help themselves. That’s the way things are.”

You huffed.

“You’re horrible.”

Fangs flashed in the dimming purple light streaming in through the window behind you.

“I’ll happily be horrible so you can always stay sweet. My methods may be unappetizing, but it’s worth is to see the truth reflected in your eyes. You deserve to feel justice.”

He leaned towards you, searching your gaze.

“And even if you won’t admit it, I can see that you do.”

Your eyebrows jumped and your ears burned.

“H-how did you even know about him?”

“I went through your text messages.”

“You have my phone? Give it to me!”

He shook his head.

“You haven’t properly settled in yet. I’ll give you a new one when you’ve come to accept your place here.”

“What is that supposed to mean?”

“You’ll soon get used to it. Come on.”

He beckoned you to get up, leading you towards the elevator.

“I have a use for you,” he said.

You flinched, narrowing your eyes at him as your heart tightened in your chest.

“What use?”

“The girls always have things they need. Some new brand of makeup comes out or melting spray, whatever that means. I have no idea, but I’m sure you do. Can you handle a budget?”

You nodded, more curious now that your “use” wasn’t anything alarming.

“All you have to do is receive their requests and figure out what we can afford to buy every month, what’s most important and all that. Then hand over your report and I’ll have one of the guys deal with the order. Simple enough?”

“Sure,” you agreed.

He patted you on the head and you peered up at him, trying to read his expression as the two of you landed on the first floor. The club was empty this early in the evening, except you could hear the titter of women through one of the doors that led to the back. A cyclops was restocking the bar, slicing limes and he nodded to you politely when you met his gaze.

Without writhing bodies, you could see that it was a very pretty place. Tufted benches in Navy blue velvet formed curved shapes housing glossy hardwood tables. The walls appeared to be some kind of fabric with an elaborate swag curtain arrangement softening the corners. The bar was a slick snake-like shape running along one wall, the liquor bottles lined up to the ceiling lit up by gold light.

A woman with bright pink hair came rushing through a side hallway, looking in her purse for something, almost slamming right into you.

“Oh sorry!” she squeaked, looking up.

Her eyes widened at you, then looked to Roth.

“New girlfriend, boss?” she asked, a sly smile growing on her face.

Glancing up at him, you couldn’t tell behind his black fuzz, but you almost thought he might be blushing.

“I’m Candy,” she beamed, shaking your hand.

Roth waved at you.

“(Y/N) will be taking your supply requests from now on,” he explained and she narrowed her eyes at him.

“You’re putting your girlfriend to work?” she pouted, slipping an arm around yours and pulling you close. “Shame on you! You ought to spoil this rare blessing! You’ve been waiting long enough, haven’t you? You’re going to chase her away if you work her to the bone!”

“Candy!” he growled, obviously a little annoyed, but she just waved him away.

“Mr. Roth acts tough, but he’s got a gooey center,” she said, her bright eyes filled with mischief. “You’d better take him for all he’s worth! He’s been wanting a girlfriend for as long as anyone can remember, but never could find the right one.”

She winked at you.

“The girls and I like variety but Mr. Roth is so sentimental he can’t stand the idea of sharing. He’s always wanted one little flower to spoil. It’s so cute. You’re his first girlfriend, you know. He’s never brought another woman here. We would know if he did.”

“Oh!” you said, glancing back up to him.

You were sure he was blushing now, though you couldn’t see it.

“Jesus,” Roth grumbled, hiding his face with a clawed hand. “Aren’t you running late, Candy?”

She grinned.

“I can’t wait to tell the girls about this!” she chirped before she smooched you on the cheek and ran off.

Roth sighed, looking at you for a moment, before a thumb rose to your cheek and he rubbed away Candy’s lipstick.

“Don’t listen to her,” he grunted, turning quickly and leading you to his office. “The girls pretty much run this place and they get silly ideas in their heads. Meddlers, all of them.”

“I am I really your first girlfriend?” you asked his back as he walked into his office. “I’m not really your girlfriend, though. You said I was your pet.”

He plopped down at his desk, waving you over.

“It doesn’t matter what I call you,” he griped, grabbing you by your hips and setting you on his desk. “You’re mine.”

Your head tipped to the side.

“Why haven’t you had a girlfriend before? You’re rich and powerful. Don’t women fall all over you?”

He leaned back in his chair, letting out a tight breath.

“My kind mate once, for life,” he explained. “It’s very…serious. Most women don’t like that sort of…intensity hanging over their heads from the start.”

Your eyes widened, watching the stiff personality he’d been so carefully trying to cultivate melt in front of you.

“So you haven’t had any other lovers?” you asked.

He fiddled with the hem of your skirt, refusing to answer.

“Is that why you’re so hard on sleazy monsters?”

At that his eyes lifted to meet yours, and his thumb absently slipped over your thigh.

“Being so crass and careless is a sacrilege among my people. Breaking a soul who might be someone’s sacred mate is considered a crime punishable by death.”

You looked down at your fingers, suddenly feeling an ache in your chest. It should have been a relief, not a pain. He would get bored and let you go someday. Now you knew that for certain.

“Am I just a placeholder until your real mate comes along?” you whispered, the words slipping past your lips, though you tried so hard to keep them in.

He chuckled, lowering his head to fill your vision with his bright eyes.

“I just told you. We mate to one person only. I wouldn’t have brought you to my bedroom if I intended to have someone else.”

“Why didn’t you just say that? Why be so distant? You scared me. If you’d wanted to mate me, holding me against my will is not exactly how to start a relationship.”

At that his eyes avoided yours.

“Like I said…women tend to run when they find out we mate for life. Humans aren’t like us. Your kind have lots of different partners and you break partnerships when they no longer suit you. If I don't force you to stay with me, you might leave."

You had no idea what possessed you, but you placed a hand on his cheek and pulled his face towards you, forcing him to meet your gaze. Your fingertips sank into the soft fuzz and you liked the way it tickled your skin.

“Not all of us,” you whispered. “Some of us just want one person we can be with forever.”

“Is that what you want?” he asked.

The words left your lips on a silvery note.

“That’s all I’ve ever wanted.”

He pulled you into his lap, curling his wings around the two of you.

“I can give you that, if you let me.”

A light giggle filled the little space for just the two of you.

“I suppose I don’t have much of a choice,” you tittered. “You don’t plan on letting me leave.”

“No,” he murmured. “But if you stayed because you wanted to it would mean a lot to me. It’s okay if you don’t feel it now. I’ll spend our lifetimes trying to convince you.”

Your head tipped against his soft chest, feeling a strange giddiness a lady shouldn’t feel towards her kidnapper, especially one who had a large collection of the teeth of the people he’d murdered in his closet.

You were fairly certain monsters had driven you to madness. None of your dramatically swaying feelings made any sense… but your “enemies” had been defeated, you’d had the best sleep you’d had in a long time in a big comfy bed, and you were wearing half a million dollars in diamonds. Objectively, your quality of life had wildly improved from the day before when you were sitting on a dirty curb clutching fifteen dollars.

For the first time, you felt his soft lips against your forehead and your head tipped up, following them. When you pressed yours against his, you felt a shudder roll through his chest, making your skin tingle. His clawed hands slipped into your hair, holding your head in place while he explored.

You felt his breath fanning your face, panting into your kiss and underneath your fingertips his heart raced, causing yours to skip as well. An arm reached behind you and you heard sundry items clatter on the floor as he laid you out on his desk.

His tongue explored your mouth, tasting like cinnamon, as his fingers clutched your cheek. Fear and anticipation muddled your thoughts. Part of you was still unsure, but the other part knew it was too late for doubts. Your body was ready to surrender, panties damp and thighs sticky.

You gasped underneath him, his wings forming a silvery cave tinted with the glow from his red eyes. You ran your fingers through the soft feathers and felt him shudder with appreciation. Notching his body between your legs, he pulled only an inch away, looking at you.

“I will keep you no matter what, but this I will not take without permission,” he murmured. “Just know, if you accept me. I won’t tolerate competition. I’ll murder anyone who dares to touch you and take their teeth.”

Your cheeks burned, blinking at him through a heady veil of pleasure, his scent carrying notes of the moonflowers decorating his home. This was the key moment. You could refuse him and go back to being his reluctant captive…or you could become his.

“Okay,” you whispered, your heart answering the question before your still unsure mind. “I…ah…I accept you.”

His lips covered yours again as he let out a needy grunt, this kiss more desperate and claiming. You felt the prick of his sharp teeth as yours slid against his, the thrill of danger sending lightening bolts up your spine. You could feel the strength in his fingers as they moved over you and the weight of his body as he pressed you into the desk.

His claws curled around the neck of your blouse and he jerked ito down, exposing the tender breasts perched in your bra. You dragged in a heavy breath tasting oddly like cinnamon, the small space under his wings suddenly feeling thick with the scent.

Your body grew hot and sensitive, each brush off his soft fuzz making your skin tingle wildly. You suddenly felt light headed and needy, your mouth watering at the taste of his tongue.

“W-what’s happening?” you gasped when he pulled back to press kisses into your neck. “I feel hot…”

His hands cupped your breast as you felt his lips agonizingly brush your sensitive skin as he spoke.

“My pheromones are binding you to me,” he hummed and your heart skipped a beat.

“What?” you hummed, pushing your breasts into his big hands for more pressure.

“My pheromones are designed to make mating more pleasurable…to make me irresistible to you.”

You gasped, but your mind was getting ever hazier as the scent wound around you. Your hips bucked into his stomach, begging for what you wanted.

“Not yet,” he purred, pulling a tender nipple into his mouth. Colors exploded behind your eyelids, feeling more pleasure flood your system than you’d ever experienced before.

You’d had enough lovers and a few good orgasms, but this blew that all out of the water like a nuclear bomb and you hadn’t even cum yet. Your back arched and you screamed as his long, agile tongue curled around your nipple.

The slight prick of his claws bit your skin as his fingers played with the other one, alternating between teasing plucks and firm rolls. The small panties you wore were soaked through and your thighs ground against his hips for more friction. Every inch of skin felt as sensitive as your clit, the fuzz all over his body feeling maddeningly good against it. Your fingertips dug into the thick collar of fur around his neck, wanting to just rub him all over you.

He let our pleased hums as grunts as your fingers couldn’t decide where they wanted to be, one moment clutching his neck, then his head, then scratching at this chest. The room filled with your desperate mewls, begging him in slurred words for his cock.

“That’s right,” he murmured on a smug chuckle. “You’re all mine, little flame. Only I can give you what you need.”

His kisses trailed down your stomach, his soft, delicate antennae caressing your skin as he moved lower. Claws shoved your skirt off your hips, exposing your panties to him and his long tongue slid up and down your slit. You heard the sound of tearing fabric and then his breath on your sensitive lips. His tongue dipped inside of you and you suddenly understood the actual length of it, easily filling your weeping pussy.

“Roth!” you gasped, fingers looking for something to clutch and finding a few odd feathers to wrap in your grip.

You heard him hum as he licked you up, making your eyes cross as the vibration drew a blooming orgasm from your core. Whimpering, with tears streaming down your cheeks you felt the agile appendage lapping up your juices, while his thumb found your clit.

He circled it slowly, making your thighs tense so tightly you thought you might pop. Pleasure zapped you like a lightening bolt, the electricity lighting up every nerve until your whole body felt like it was cumming all at once. Your head dropped to the side, drool leaking over your cheek as your eyes rolled back in your head.

You weren’t sure you could take much more. Making love had never been like this. Your mind couldn’t process what his pheromones were doing to you.

Finally, Roth couldn’t hold back anymore, standing so he loomed over you, only his red eyes visible in the darkness. His fingers slipped past your open lips, holding you you in place as you felt his thick shaft investigate your pussy. It felt a little strange, your skin so sensitive it could make out every detail. Though velvety skin still covered it’s girth, the head was more elongated than a humans, ending at a slightly sharper angle with a pronounced ridge bisecting it. Smooth bumps formed a line running vertically along the shaft and something…or some things grasped your thighs like little fingers, holding them open. Your confusion as what was holding your legs apart melted away when he snapped his hips and his cock entered you.

A ragged roar filled your ears as he bottomed out inside of your channel. You could tell by the way the fingers in your mouth flexed, he was doing his best to hold back, not to hurt you. He was still for a moment, as he gathered his resolve, but you had other ideas, sucking on his fingers lewdly, your wet tongue tracing his claws.

He bent down on top of you, fingers fleeing your hot mouth and wrapping around your neck.

“Naughty girl,” he gasped as you bucked your hips, the little nubs lining his shaft making you whimper.

You could hardly see him, but you knew he could see you and you were getting annoyed with him trying to be gentle. Pulling your tits out of your bra, you kneaded them shamelessly, pressing the flesh against the arm holding your throat and arching your back so he couldn’t avoid the dirty show.

You couldn’t hold back your victorious smirk as he let out a hungry growl and his hips started to batter your soft flesh. His eyes disappeared into the darkness as instinct overtook him, rutting you wildly. Strong fingers tightened on your throat, only ratcheting up the spice swirling through every limb like a savage tornado.

Drowning in pure bliss, hot tears poured down your cheeks, your body jerking underneath his as he pounded into you. Nonsense poured from your lips, rational thought swept away in the storm. When the sensation reached it’s peak you felt like your body might shatter into a million pieces and you welcomed the oblivion that overtook you. Body shuddering violently as you fell over the edge.

Your wet, needy cunt, clamping down on Roth’s cock so suddenly made his body respond in the way it was designed. His shaft suddenly inflated to twice it’s original girth, stretching you decadently before he cursed and you felt ropes of searing cum splash against your sucking walls.

You could hear heavy panting and it took you a moment to realize it was your own breath. Roth let out a long, groaning sigh, his body slumping on top of yours, only stopped by a strong arm bracing the desk.

His bright red eyes returned, looking somehow more entrancing than before. Everything about him seemed…more. His cinnamon, flower laced scent stuck to you and his soft fur felt luxurious. Even the sound of his ragged breaths tickled your ears in a sumptuous way.

“You’re…different,” you muttered, brain having trouble putting words together.

He let go of your throat, a thumb brushing your bottom lip as his hand clutched your cheek.

“My pheramones have soaked into your body,” he purred. “You’re mine now. I’ve marked you.”

“Oh,” you hummed, eyes slipping shut, as you felt the aftershocks of your love making roll over you.

Whatever little claspers were holding your legs retreated and as his cock slipped out of you, cum and slick splashed on the wood floor.

He scooped you into his arms, pulling you into his lap as he peppered soft kisses on your forehead.

“Are you okay?” he asked, fingers, absently stroking your hair.

“Mhmm,” you hummed. “Will it always be like that…now that you’ve marked me?”

“Yes,” he said, twirling a bit of hair around his finger. “Now that we’re bonded…I can’t control my pheremones. They…have a bit of a mind of their own and their purpose now is to reinforce the bond.”

A knock at the door sobered you a bit as you tugged your shirt back up to cover your boobs.

“Who is it?” he called, still so quiet you weren’t sure how anyone heard him.

“Vince,” said the vampire on the other side of the door.

“Is it an emergency?”

“No.”

“Go away.”

“Got it, boss.”

He tucked the bit of hair he was twirling behind your ear and smiled.

“Do you want a snack?”

Your eyes met his with all of the earnestness in the world.

“Yes. I would love that!”

He pulled out his phone and texted someone before setting you back on his desk and leaning back in his chair, looking deeply satisfied and proud of himself. You flopped over on your stomach, kicking your heels in the air and resting your chin on your arm.

“Do we have to work now?” you asked, batting your eyelashes at him.

He looked at you for a moment before answering.

“No…What do you want to do?”

“I kind of want to get to know you a little better…Since I’m bonded to you or whatever.”

“Okay,” he said, stretching his arms behind his head. “What do you want to know first?”

You blinked at him.

“Why do you have hundreds of teeth in your closet?”

628 notes · View notes

ghost-bxrd · 5 months

Text

Prompt:

It takes forever and a day for someone to notice, but after decades of crime fighting, the Justice League finally catches onto the fact that—-

Batman doesn’t seem to be aging. At all.

Sure there are some lines on his face but anybody with as many children as him would have them. And yes, he does complain of back pains every now and again, but he’s been doing that since the day the JLA first formed, so who knows.

Come to think of it, his gaggle of kids don’t seem to be a day over twenty-two either. None of them. Even Nightwing, who should be well into his fourties’ (fifties?? Sixties???) still looks exactly the same.

The JLA decide to investigate.

Which isn’t exactly the easiest thing to do, because it’s Gotham, and every single person in that godforsaken city is bloody insane as they come to find out. (With a side dish of plausible deniability to boot)

562 notes · View notes

pearlypeacepeacock69 · 1 year

Text

Shadow Demon but

BABEE

Jim Gordon's pal, the Shadow demon describes baby Dick

The Shadow Demon and the Blue Jay describes baby Jason

Finding Tim(e) describes baby Tim

Part one: sketch

Part three: Taser

#batblob #batman shadow demon au #shadow batman #cryptid batman #cryptid batfam #dick grayson #jason todd #tim drake #my art #unfortunately #dc fic rec #sketch dump #batman batblob #that creecher sure is creeching #creecher #batdad #batboys

2K notes · View notes

faeriekit · 8 days

Text

Immediate Roadside Assistance Required

Phic phight fill for sapphireshield (no tumblr listed)

Warnings for: extremely mild depictions of domestic violence

The car that pulls over is a SUV. Beige. Kind of grimy. There’s a mom at the front; inside, Dani bets there’s probably one or two kids.

The mom rolls down the window. She looks nice. Kind of soft. Tough, in a kind of mom sort of way, but soft enough to see a girl with her thumb out at the side of the road and actually pull over. It’s a sweet gesture; Dani has a vague idea that hitchhiking hasn’t been trendy since the eighties, so this’ll have to do.

The mom sticks an elbow out the window and looks Dani up and down. “You alright, sweetheart?” she asks, a different twang on her tongue than the vowels Dani’s been used to all her (short) life. Dani might be out farther than she thought.

Dani grins. For this mom, it’s nice ‘n sweet. “I’m good! I need a ride, though; I’m trying to get to my stepparent’s place. Tryin’ to get as far as the border.”

The woman flattens her lips. She probably thinks Dani’s a runaway, but she’s not. Dani’s something a lot worse.

“You sure?” The mom looks up at the sky, even as her kid squeals about something snack-related in the back. “It’s about to get dark out, honey. Storm’s coming.”

Dani’s grin doesn’t let up. “I’m gonna go meet my brother! I already know where I’m gonna lay up, so don’t worry!”

The mom is for sure worrying; worrying her lip between her teeth, and worrying over a scruffy kid in a torn-up hoodie. “...Well. ‘Long as I get to see him when we get there. Hop in.”

Dani grins, and hops up in the car.

It’s a little warmer in there. Smells like cheerios; there’s a baby, Dani notices, in the back seat. It’s got her middle two fingers in its mouth and big brown eyes.

Dani waves. The baby stares, since babies do that, and Dani occupies herself by making funny faces over the shoulder of the passenger seat, eager to elicit a giggle from a little kid. She loves little kids. She wishes she’d been allowed to be one.

“You might want to turn around and buckle in, young lady,” the mom drawls, wiping stress off her forehead. “Don’t want you to die if we end up in a crash.”

I can’t, Dani doesn’t say, because she’s nice. I’m already dead.

So she turns around and buckles herself in. The mom flicks on the radio, and a woman’s voice starts growling over an electric guitar and a roughed-up drum kit. It sounds fun.

This ride’s going to be good. Dani grins, all teeth and brimstone. There’s a storm rolling in, bad luck hanging in the air like vapor and sparks. Lightning’s on its way.

It’s a long way to the state border. Dani’s going to enjoy every minute she can with the window down, electricity in her fingers, and the quiet humming of the driver singing along.

They make it to a rest stop about three quarters of the way there.

Dani’s not against stopping, so she just peeks out the window, watching cars and exhausted drivers slog through the paved flats of the rest stop parking lot. “What’re we doing?” Dani asks, entertained in her own way. Maybe this nice mom is going to try to hand her off to CPS!

It wouldn’t work, but, you know. It would be kind of annoying, if ultimately well-meaning.

“Diaper change for the baby,” the mom offers, and, yeah, that’s practical. “Vending machine break for me. Bathroom break for you, probably.”

Oh, that checks out. “Alright!”

The child lock pops, and Dani hops out of the car; she waits, patiently, for the mom to bring out the baby, who looks even more luminous asleep and spitty than when it's awake.

“It slept through a lot of Rock ‘n’ Roll,” Dani admires. The baby gets held to mom’s chest, a blanket wrapped around them both. “That’s cool.”

“He’s heard a lot of Joan Jett since he was born. I’d be shocked if he couldn’t sleep through a hurricane at this point.”

Dani trots after the mom, patient in her wake. They don’t look too much alike, so maybe there are other people wondering if they even know each other at all, or if Dani’s getting kidnapped or traded away for cigarettes. Or probably they just think Dani’s getting babysat, helping watch a baby while the mom ends up driving them over and away from wherever Dani’s landed herself this time.

The diapers the baby uses are a thick, sort of plush material. They look soft. There are little pastel teddy bears on them: one blue, one pink. Dani gets to touch one when the Mom asks her to pull one out of the big blue bag. There are a whole lot crammed in there; they’re packed in so tight that it’s hard to pull one out of the stack without pulling out all the others, but the baby can only wear one diaper at a time!

“Thanks, sweetheart,” the mom says. It’s the nicest anyone’s been to Dani in ages. She’s glad she lived long enough to hear a soft mom call her sweetie and sweetheart for no reason other than being convenient. “You have to go?”

Dani shakes her head. The mom gives her a look. “We’ll be in the state for another hour. You want to try, at least?”

…She hesitates. The baby doesn’t notice, busy playing with its toes as its mom tries to wriggle it back into its butt covering for the sake of covering its butt. She doesn’t usually have bodily functions that actually…function. But the mom lady didn’t know that.

Whatever. She’d play a game of Snake in there. “‘Kay.”

Dani goes into a stall, flicks open her phone, and manages to eat like twenty little pixels before she actually runs into her own little snake body and dies. Ugh. It doesn’t take up too much time— how much time are humans supposed to spend in the bathroom, anyway??— so she fires up a new game and almost gets through it before she hears someone yell. Dani jolts.

The baby starts crying, faint and far away. Dani quickly grabs herself together and puts the phone away. If something’s happening— something happening to the mom and the baby—

Dani dashes out of the bathroom. There’s a guy at the door. There’s a guy holding the baby by the arm so that the baby is dangling and the guy is yelling at the mom who’d driven Dani here, physically pushing her when she tries to get her baby back.

The instinct to hit him is impossible to wrangle. It’s too bad, but Dani has to help the baby and the mom. Hitting him might hurt the baby, if she isn’t careful— doubly true if she uses an ecto-blast.

She goes invisible instead.

Carefully pulling the baby intangibly through the man’s grip is a quiet, tense process. The baby keeps crying and crying and crying, but the more she hides it, the quieter the cries seem.

And then there’s a baby shallowly crying in her arms.

The guy doesn’t even realize, too busy shoving and hitting the mom who’d done nothing wrong. Dani hates this guy. He reminds her of Vlad— too angry that he isn’t getting his way, and never understanding why no one’s obeying him fast enough.

Dani hoists the baby into one arm, mirroring the way the mom had carried it into the rest stop when they first came in. The hold doesn’t feel as secure as Dany thinks it ought to, but it frees up a hand.

Dani grabs the mom’s hand.

The woman disappears into thin air. The guy looks so spooked.

Dani giggles. Either way, it’s super easy and simple to fly the mom and the baby through the bathroom walls, and hiding them in the bathroom cleaner closet seems safer than hiding them in a stall. Dani doesn’t pause when the mom gasps, frightened by the change in scenery; she pops the baby into her arms and disappears back the way she came.

Dani Phantom has a guy to beat up.

There are lots of ways to scare humans, Dani finds; humans are afraid of the dark, and afraid of what they can’t control. They’re afraid of pain, and they’re afraid of loud noises. Humans aren’t afraid of everything all the time, but they can be afraid of more things when they’re combined than when they’re not.

So Dani flexes her aura. The lights flicker in the main room of the rest stop. The man stops, but his hand is still raised.

He looks to see where the baby is, and realizes that he’s empty-handed. The woman is gone.

The lights go out.

Dani loves being seen sometimes. She doesn’t like being bothered, but she loves attention when she knows no one can call the cops on her; so she drips green. She lets herself glow, gloopy and malformed, as she pulls herself through the wall. She turns melty eyes onto the man who took the baby from its mom.

The guy kind of looks like he’s going to piss himself. Good.

Dani starts to fake cry. It starts out as little sniffles— and then moans, and sobs, Dani clawing herself out of the wall until she’s floating, midair, half-formed and wailing. She kind of hopes she looks super spooky, like one of those CGI gross guys from Stranger Things, or that girl who walked down the stairs in a spooky backbend one time.

The guy steps back. Great. Dani inches forwards. The guy steps back again, face pale as a china plate, looking inches from giving up the ghost and bolting off to the parking lot.

Excellent.

Dani takes her hands off of her face to show melting, distorted features. And she screams.

The guy is gone in seconds. He should just be a sprinter instead of bullying moms and their little babies! Dani huffs, hands on her hips. Whatever. As long as he’s gone, he can do whatever he likes.

Dani barely remembers to set her face right before going to get the mom and baby out of the closet. It doesn’t matter how human she looks, though, because when she opens the door back up for them, the mom looks like she’s seen a ghost.

Dani grins, and probably her teeth aren’t showing anything too weird or spooky. “That guy left! Can we go now?”

The mom takes a deep, rattling breath. She does that thing where she touches her forehead, her chest, and then the air above her shoulders. No one’s told Dani what that means so far, but she’s seen it a lot.

“...Sure, sweetheart.”

Dani beams.

They make it to the edge of the state just as the rain starts to pour down. The mom is still looking for Danny by the time Dani points them into a gas station, but Danny’s not here; Dani made him up long enough to get a ride as far as she thought she could get tonight. The mom is still peering through the gloom of the driver’s side window as Dani turns herself transparent and flies out and away.

The mom was nice. The baby was nice. Dani liked this ride.

She walks, intangible, through the rain. The highway is dark, and wet, but Dani’s optimistic; sometimes people feel bad for her, so she gets more rides in a thunderstorm than on a sunny day. After an hour, somewhere on a rural road she’s never seen nor heard of before, Dani sticks her thumb out for a low little car going exactly the speed limit.

The car has a little old couple in the front and passenger seat. They look like grandparents. The grandpa rolls down his window, white eyebrows pushed together. “You need a ride, honey?”

Dani grins.

#Phic phight #Phic phight 2024 #Danny phantom #dani phantom #danielle phantom #LOVE the idea that Dani becomes a national cryptid on accident #Dani does what comes naturally but her instincts are SO fucked #alright that's my last one. I'm tired.#faer fic

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alyakthedorklord · 1 year

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Chiroptophobia: the Fear of Bats.

Bruce Wayne is Scared of Bats. This is a Canon Fact.

In a difference from canon, Batman pretends to actually BE a bat man.

(Again, “Loading and Aspect Ratio” by JUBE514 situation with fake wings. Please go read it I love it so much.)

Bruce turns himself into a physical manifestation of his personal worst nightmares, and sets out to be a street cryptid. People see him flinching from bright lights and loud noises (he hasn’t slept in three days and he really hates guns) twitching weirdly (testing his wings function/stimming) not fully understanding human social niceties (you cannot tell me this man isn't Autistic) and, duh, wings, and go ah yes this being is Inhuman.

However, people KNOW Brucie Wayne™ is petrified of bats. There was an incident at a party when one flew through a window, another at a zoo, there was this one time Manbat showed up and he practically teleported away. No one saw him for a whole month, even after Batman had captured Manbat. (He got injured in the fight.)

By extension, this means that Bruce Wayne is afraid of Batman. Just- absolutely terrified of him. No ones seen them in the same place. Ever. Bruce Wayne actually publicly refuses to even believe in the cryptid for YEARS past when he's already been proven to exist.

When the Justice League gets called in to protect Bruce and his smattering of children from some plot (batman conspicuously absent, despite Gotham being his territory) Bruce straight up tells the league that he doesn’t believe in Batman, and he feels much safer with “real heroes” rather than “a urban legend spawned from overdramatic furries and gang wars.”

The justice league is, obviously, confused.

Certified little shits Dick, Jason, and Tim, (because we’re going with JUBE514’s canon and jason doesn’t die they’re all brothers f off-)

ANYWAYS: Certified Little Shits Dick, Jason, and Tim, ready for chaos/solidifying secret identities: “Don’t worry! We believe in batman! We saw him!” :D

They then proceed to tell the justice league that Bruce HAS met Batman, but he has a phobia of bats, so when Batman saved them at a gala Bruce screamed so loud and shrill he threw off the bat-hearing and then punched batman in the face so hard he knocked him out cold, grabbed then-baby Jason and ran. (Nightwing and the second Robin had to HEROICALLY rescue a dazed Batman, Dick saw it with his own eyes!)

Bruce was so scared of the bat coming to take revenge that he jumped at every shadow for a whole month. Why, Jason, (who was younger then) had slept in Bruce's bed to keep him safe! (Dick is crooning about his cute little brother. Jason, who is hitting his growth spurt and not a little kid anymore, is infinitely embarrassed.) Right now, Brucie has settled into firmly denying Batman’s entire existence so that he can sleep soundly at night.

“Why is he so scared of bats?” The Justice League is wondering. Oh, they are so glad they asked!

“Alfred told us a story once,” Dick says, eyes wide and innocent as he prepares to lie through his fucking teeth, “that when Bruce was little, really little, he got trapped in a cave filled with bats, and his dad had to come rescue him. Apparently, Little Bruce had been crying about a massive bat, even bigger than he was, with glowing red eyes and human hands and (gasp) wait oh my goodness gracious what if that was the BATMAN :0”

“The baby batman.” Jadon adds.

“Batboy?” Tim wonders.

“Alfred, do you think Bruce met Batman when they were little?” Dick asks.

“I believe,” Alfred “the greatest enabler” Pennyworth hums, offering fresh baked scones to thier gleeful audience, “that Master Bruce referred to what he saw as ‘the bat king’ and reported seeing him outside his window several times over the years.”

“Maybe it really was him! Will you ask Batman for us?” Tim asks, already planning to hack the watchtower cameras and set up some popcorn with his brothers.

The Justice League, who have learned more about the Batman in one conversation than they have over MANY years of working together, tell the Wayne children that it will be their Genuine Pleasure to quiz batman on his interactions with BRUCIE WAYNE who has, apparently, laid batman out cold with one punch.

Alfred adds on that he personally thinks the Batman is being rather courteous to Master Bruce, as “bat king” sightings were after “difficult times” and he doesn’t come near the manor otherwise, as robin had been the one to return some family heirlooms that one time they were stolen. He calls the batman and his robins “polite young gentlemen” and then leaves.

But now the gears are turning in the justice leagues heads. Batman? Courteous? Polite? Batman is not Courteous or Polite. Not unless something else is going on.

Now. From their point of view. Batman lives in the cave systems under the richest houses in Gotham, Phantom of the Opera style, hiding his meta form (because this batman is playing cryptid really well. Maybe he was a mutant baby of some Rich Gothamites, who threw him into the caves in shame!) He’s been watching Bruce Wayne, likely as he struggled with the highly reported on demise of his parents, seeing the effects that crime had on the boy that fell into his cave all those years ago. Batman has always been so protective of children, so hateful of guns, obviously the Wayne tragedy is part of what motivates him. He loves Gotham dearly, territorial of it to the point of keeping other heroes out, and yet he breaks that rule here, for Gotham's prince, solely for Bruce’s comfort.

Bruce, another person who obviously loves the city of Gotham just as much, putting millions into charity and relief efforts. Who is clearly very protective of his children, even if he usually has no spine, to the point of attacking his greatest fear to keep then safe, and good enough to land a hit, even. (Bruce Wayne is also considerably attractive.)

Its all so clear to the Justice League: Batman is madly in love with Bruce Wayne. Has been for years. To the point of watching him sleep, on occasion. How very tragic! Batman, in love with someone he can never be with! Not only would it paint a massive target on Bruce’s back if they ever did get together- there’s no questioning what Gotham villains would do if they discovered this, (and denying himself love out of an attempt to keep others safe is EXACTLY the kind of self-sacrificing nonsense Batman would pull) But Batman can’t even truly see the man he’s in love with without Brucie running away in terror! Well, the poor guy… how sad…

This conclusion can be supported by the following evidence-

Batman’s first appearance being right after Bruce Wayne returned to Gotham. Was the bat following him to protect him in those missing years? Or maybe he decided to clean up the city now that his beloved had returned?

Batman always being seen near where Bruce is. He’s never once been at the watchtower when Bruce has a public appearance- he must be watching over him, a silent guardian in case someone gets it in their head to kidnap Gotham’s Prince.

Batman insisting that Bruce is innocent in a corporate scheme, despite evidence to the contrary. (Hes right in the end, of course, but they’ve never seen him ignore evidence so clear.)

Batman casually referencing Wayne Tech/Foundation inner workings- he keeps an eye on them, of course. (If he can’t be close to the object of his affections, the league reasons, of course he’d make sure that Bruce’s company and projects are on the right track)

Nightwing, when asked, confirms the Bruce Punching Batman story. He says “honestly I think B was impressed! Caught him off guard!” (Since when does Batman lower his guard? Only when he’d be… distracted, perhaps…)

Superman saves Bruce, who thanks him with a kiss on the cheek. Later, justice league was teasing Clark, batman huffs and leaves the room. He’s CLEARLY jealous! Superman feels just awful!

Batman inexplicably knowing social dances/high society manners- he must have learned by watching (stalking) bruce! He can navigate high profile talk if he wants to, he just doesn’t want to most of the time. but if the situation calls for it he can talk like the Richest of Pricks in a way that only comes with observation.

Batman bristling when some of the league members start making Comments on Brucie Wayne’s Physical Attributes. (Jealousy? Defensiveness? Perhaps… embarrassment at GL’s detailed explanation on what he’d do with a chance in bed with Brucie.)

Batman absolutely freezing up when confronted with any of the above evidence. (He’s trying SO HARD not to laugh/go tell his kids)

Dick/Jason being big enough to wear the Bat-wings rather than thier own and be convincing- they save Bruce, though the man passes out (from fear? Blood loss from an injury? Perhaps- he is faking) and Dick/Jason, either out of genuine concern for their dad or general “how can i stir the pot” chaos, gently strokes his hair away from his face in an act of compassion that the cameras just so happen to catch. (There’s a few tears shed in the justice league- poor batman! He can’t be with his love!)

The robins (in both identities) telling the justice league that they've seen batman watching him.

“oh yeah he does background checks on aaaaaall bruces conquests. Had a conniption when brucie found a mafia boss that one time.”

“And when he found out Bruce and Two-face had a fling!”

(The league notes that often, if a criminal gets too close to Brucie, they’re put away not long after. B is usually collecting evidence in his civilian ID. But it looks like angry Batman wanted them to get the hell away from his mans.)

The Justice League is swooning over this tragic, forbidden love story. Batman is a little creepy but hey. He apparently grew up in a cave system. Its a wonder he's as well adjusted as he is. Batman has their sympathy, he seems less unflappable/untouchable, they’re a little more understanding with him now. Superman is all too happy to be a rebound, if needed. There are magic users offering glamour spells. Green Lantern is making exposure therapy innuendos.

The robins can’t believe how lucky they got. They’re def grounded but B can’t be too mad bc his secret identity is FUKIN SET.

Alfred is rather proud of Batman's new nickname in the league being “the bat king” and keeps sending batman along with cookies. The league thinks Batman is checking up on bruce with his butler. Its a mess.

Eventually, Batman loses a bet to one of his kids. Committing to the Bit with an exasperated sigh (he’s definitely not having fun, shut up jason.)

He admits to his crush.

#cryptid batman #brucie wayne #wing fic #justice league #dc universe #dc prompt #when the league finds out they’re almost offended #b just sheugs and say they drew their own conclusions #also his robins and alfred were having fun #bruce wayne #batman #bruce wayne x batman #superbat

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goldenjuniper · 7 months

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their love language is touch!!!!

eclipse is from @naffeclipse’s cryptid sightings fic and their lovely design is by @themeeplord!!!

#june art #ok time tot ramble in the tags HAHSHAHSHS #cryptid sightings is a fic with Lots of Emotions i CANNOT recommend it enough #there are some scenes that i super duper wanna draw…..#im not finished reading it yet ( 3 chapters to go!!! ) but it is so HSHSGHDHSGSHSGS. . . . /pos #ECLIPSE IS SO.#i adore meeplord’s design for them so much RRGRGRGRGGRGRGRGRGRHh #it’s how i visualize eclipse whenever i read cs now #the horns the teeth the EVERYTHING #so heart emoji heart emoji!!!!!!!#cryptid sightings #cryptid sightings au #cryptid!eclipse #described #id in alt

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cryptidafter · 2 months

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Captain being a gremlin; Keen enjoying it.

Word Count: 3k

Rating: Explicit

#cryptid's fics #playboyy the series #playboyy #captainkeen #my fanfic

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cuubism · 9 months

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a selection of The Library's customers

One day Hob will get used to The Library's many strange happenings. Maybe. Or probably not.

Today, it's the fact that there's a customer.

Sort of.

The small child who's essentially appeared in Dream's study frowns up at him, hands on her hips. She looks to be about nine. She's wearing a school uniform. Where are her parents?

"This," she says to Dream, horribly affronted, "is not the school library."

"I imagine it did not have what you needed," Dream says. Utterly unbothered by a random child wandering into his shop, seemingly out of nowhere. Hob watches with astonishment from where he's sitting at Dream's desk with a cup of coffee, evidently not needed for this interaction. "What were you looking for?"

"Unicorns," she declares.

It seems odd to Hob that a primary school library wouldn't have any fantasy books with unicorns in them, but what does he know. Dream nods with utter seriousness. "Please wait a moment," he says, and disappears into the bowels of the shop.

"How'd you get in here?" Hob asks as the girl sits down primly in a chair.

"I used the door, silly," she says. Not the front door, surely. Hob definitely hadn't seen her come up the stairs into the study.

Then her eyes light up. "Can I have a scone?"

Hob had brought over a container of them from the cafe, and Dream's been picking at them all morning. Hob passes the kid the container. What the hell else is he supposed to do?

Fortunately, Dream returns before Hob has to figure out what his adult responsibility is as regards an unaccompanied child that probably should be in school right now. Dream hands the girl a stack of at least ten books of varying sizes, presumably about unicorns. The girl looks through them, scrunches her nose up, and asks, "D'you have anything more scientific?"

Dream considers. Then hands her a large, flat book that he definitely hadn't been carrying a moment ago. The girl sets it on the ground, kneeling before it, flipping through the pages. It seems to be made up of scientific diagrams and large, full-color images. Hob sees viscera, organs, bones-- then the girl closes the book again. The cover says, Unicorn Anatomy: Piece by Piece.

The little girl smiles up at him, sharp and pixie-like. "Thank you, Mister Dream," she says, incredibly polite for a child currently grinning madly over unicorn dissections.

Dream nods solemnly. "I hope it will serve you well in your endeavors."

She trots off back into the stacks, to whatever door (?) she came from, and Hob turns to Dream. "Do you often get random children here?"

"The Library finds its customers," Dream says placidly. "She will find her way back to her classroom, worry not."

"Figured that, somehow."

Dream sets the other unicorn books aside and takes up a scone in their place, nibbling on it as he perches on the edge of his desk, looking down at Hob. He seems amused by Hob's confusion. "Why do you have a front door if people don't use it?" Hob asks.

"You use it," Dream points out. Which... is unexpectedly touching. Unexpectedly special.

"Fair enough," he agrees, voice tight.

Dream's next customer comes bursting in through a side door as Hob is helping Dream stack some new books. He runs in so fast he has to catch himself against the desk, his business suit tattered and smoking, his hair... literally on fire. He rapidly pats it out.

"Please," he begs, as Dream just observes him calmly from where he's sitting cross-legged on the floor. "I need--"

"1983 Alternate History," Dream fills in. "Yes, I'm sure you do. One moment, please."

As he disappears into the stacks, the customer leans against the desk, panting for breath. Hob doesn't think offering a scone is going to help in this case. He's not sure what else would help, either.

Fortunately, Dream returns quickly, handing the shaking man an equally tattered grey book that is indeed titled, in a concerning handwritten scrawl, User's Guide to 1983 - Alternate Version. And, subtitled: FOR EMERGENCY USE ONLY.

"Thanks," breathes the man, clutching the book to him. And with no more explanation than that, he runs back through the door he came from. Hob thinks he catches a glimpse of something very large and very on fire through the doorway, but the door swings closed too fast to tell for sure.

"They would do well to pass that around rather than returning it," Dream says, before sitting back down and returning to his book sorting.

Hob is naturally curious, but he thinks about all the fire and this time decides he doesn't want to know.

"...Hi?"

For once, Hob has successfully convinced Dream to stop working for a moment. Dream is, in fact, currently sitting on his lap, resting his head on Hob's shoulder in a half-doze as Hob regales him with a university story that's certainly crazy enough to fit in with any of the books in The Library. But Library customers don't follow a nine - to - five schedule, Hob's learned this well enough by now.

Dream does not seem embarrassed to have been caught in this position. He just stands fluidly, stretching his arms over his head. "Yes?"

The young person standing hesitantly in the middle of the room -- might be eighteen? twenty? once he crossed thirty Hob lost the ability to tell young adults' ages with any accuracy, they all seem like kids -- twists their hands together and says, "Could you help me find a book?"

Dream nods and waits for them to tell him which one.

The kid glances back and forth between the two of them nervously, like they think one or both of them might judge their selection. Hob tries to look non-threatening, even though it's hard to look more non-threatening when he's already half-sunk into the couch, wearing sweatpants, and was just caught cuddling his boyfriend in a semi-public space. He's also certain that whatever book this kid might be after, The Library definitely has something more concerning and more questionable.

Like Alternate 1983 History, for example.

Dream probably already knows what they're looking for, too, he always does.

Dream just tilts his head in beckoning and walks off into the stacks, his customer following behind, still wringing their hands.

Hob's fully expecting only Dream to come back, for his customer to disappear through another exit -- none of which Hob can ever find later. But they both come back through around ten minutes later, Dream carrying a book with a yellow cover. The study is close and cozy enough that Hob can make out the title -- Gender Queer -- as Dream passes it over, and oh, yeah, he gets it now. Granted, Hob himself has always been more of the type to punch people out whenever they give him any shit, but he understands the impulse, the need, sometimes, to hide.

The teen clutches yellow-covered book close to their chest. "You can take it home," Dream says when they make no move to leave.

They look down at the cover and then back up at Dream. "...I'm not sure I can," they say at length. "It's too, um. Obvious."

Dream just raises an eyebrow. "Is it?"

Hob swears he didn't look away, but as he follows the teen customer's gaze back down, the book has definitely changed. The cover is blue now, and it seems to be about maths, though it's hard to make out from far away. The kid flips through the pages, and they must be different from before for they look up at Dream in disbelief.

Dream, the fucker, just winks. Presses the book closed again, upon which the cover returns to yellow.

"Algebra is scintillating," he drawls, turning away and snatching up the container of scones from a side table -- a not-insignificant part of Hob's job, at this point, is just keeping Dream in scones -- "and suitable for any young person. Take a scone with you, too." He holds out the container. "Hob's are the best."

And with a tiny smile, the kid takes one.

#btw of ALL the books so far mentioned in this au Gender Queer is the ONLY one that's actually a real book XD #all the others are made up #conservatives in the US keep scapegoating Gender Queer and trying to get it banned #love hob doing literally fuck all in this. like does he ever work? who knows #all he does is snog dream a lot. good life tbh #bookstore cryptid dream #dreamling #my writing #dreamling fic #a warm up to hopefully get my brain churning enough today to finish in waking dreams

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noxposting · 4 months

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Another year, another @phandomholidaytruce ✨

Merry crisler @datawyrms ! Hope you like it!! It's also on AO3 with an extra chapter

Something's Wrong with Danny Fenton

The realization that something was seriously wrong was like falling asleep; slowly, and then all at once.

There had been no catalyst, no trigger to speak of.

Miss Jones had been sick and, this late into the school year, they hadn't bothered to provide a replacement. Most of the class hadn't even bothered showing up anyway; with finals so close, they were either asleep of studying.

Cal would have done the same, was it not for the absolute chaos at home. The twins were off school for the summer already, and they made sure to make their presence known to every single resident of the house. Usually starting at 6am. Cal didn't feel like he got to choose whether to stay home or not.

This is how he found himself here, sitting in a mostly empty classroom, gaze unfocused as he soaked in the rare moments of quiet. In front of him lay an opened biology book, as he lied to himself that he was going to use this time to revise ahead of exams. Instead, the sketch of a duck wearing sunglasses was guiltily staring at him from the page margins.

His gaze had wandered to the window, towards the school-yard of Casper High. Today was a rather rare sunny day; it was early summer, but even during the heart of the hottest season there was a never-ending, persistent chill that seemed to choke the entirety of Amity Park.

Cal, of course, knew exactly where it was coming from.

It was a little bit difficult to live around here and not know about the ghosts.

He pushed his glasses up his nose nervously. He didn't have any particular strong feelings about ghosts, really. He had gotten used to them, in a way. But, truth be told, he was not a fan of the spine-chilling coldness that seeped through everything in their presence and lingered after they were gone. The way the town seemed never to be able to escape this coldness anymore bothered him, but there was not much to do other than suck it up.

Which was why rare days like today were a pleasant, welcome surprise to the locals. He could see his classmates lounging around in the grass outside, soaking up the sunlight like starving sunflowers, and it brought a warm feeling in his chest. Cal was always more of a people watcher, standing in the side and absorbing situations rather than getting involved.

He tried to ignore the tense feeling in his spine that made the hair at the back of his neck stand.

Also, he was studying. He looked down at his book and a second duck that had joined the first and was silently judging him, this time wearing a dapper top hat and a little bow-tie.

There was no haunting chill in this classroom. Right. He didn't want to go out and miss the time to relax.

His let his gaze passively wander around the room. There were only four others in there with him, all in different states of mental non-existence. Eleanor and Sally-Anne were sat opposite each other, heads close over the desk as they gossiped, their whispers providing a subtle background noise through the quiet room. Jonathan (the one with the glasses, not the one in the football team) was focused on the book in front of him and Danny, at the back of the class, looked to have fully dissociated, eyes glazed over. Now wasn't that relatable.

Cal sighed. Suddenly the chair felt a bit stiff, his shoulders a bit tense, so he pulled his arms behind his back in a big stretch. He couldn't help the groan that left his lips as he felt his joints pop. Grabbing the back of his chair, he twisted around -first the right side, then the left- to relieve the tension.

The tension, as if to spite him, stayed.

He got up, cringing at the scraping sound his chair made as it slid back, and he could see on the edge of his vision that his movement had caught the attention of the two girls. When he didn't say anything, they returned to their conversation.

Cal went around his desk towards the window and looked outside, once again marveling at the sunshine and trying to ignore the goosebumps travelling down his arms. He did briefly debate the merits of joining the rest of the glass out in the grass once more, but the peace of the quiet classroom was too tempting for his foggy brain. Still, he didn't feel like sitting in a chair for the next forty minutes. Looking around, he spotted a few unattended markers on the teacher's desk, and paused, a thought forming in his mind.

His fingers were itching with misplaced adrenaline, and he figured what the hell.

Pointedly not allowing any awkward embarrassment to brew, he approached the desk, grabbed the black and green markers and approached the blank class whiteboard.

Cal had always liked to draw. His mom said it's because his hands can't sit still (but she liked it, really, especially when he made her custom-made mother's day cards every year). The twins had no opinion about it, until his sister got her first celebrity crush and begged him to draw the poor guy with cat ears.

No ducks with accessories this time.

She later posted it online with a humble brag about how she had 'finished it really quickly, what do you guys think' but, considering she had barely hit double digits in age, Cal had let it pass.

The validation of elementary kids was not in his radar, exactly.

He never followed any particular theme -his illustrations were usually random, without much thought. He liked letting his mind and hand take him wherever, and that often led to either randomness or, as was often the case for his bigger, more planned illustrations, a lot of inspiration from his environment.

Was it a surprise that he had produced so many drawings of ghosts?

As Cal was suddenly, once again, very aware of the subtle chill (not quite a presence, but it existed and it came from somewhere), he figured that one more addition to his ghost collection wouldn't make any difference.

Even if he wasn't used to drawing on a whiteboard, he still felt the long, controlled strokes of the marker come naturally. His preferred style was either completely colorless (which had absolutely nothing to do with his tendency to draw during class, thank you very much) or with minimal color; he knew how to manage negative space to his liking.

He had to admit, the subject he had chosen was pretty perfect for the whiteboard; all high contrast black and whites.

Getting lost in the process was easy for Cal; applying long strokes across the board and thick filling to the black outfit allowed time and tension to pass him by, almost. The hair would be tricky; making sure the black marker was used faintly enough to translate the light, luminous color was a mission, and Cal was nothing if not a perfectionist when it came to his work. All aspects to a drawing needed to come together for a good result, after all.

But for this, the most important part was the eyes.

Cal tightened his grip around the green marker. There could be only one color on this drawing, and it had to be the eyes. Sadly, a green whiteboard marker would never be quite the toxic green that he would have liked, but it was the principle that counted.

As he placed the last detail on the hair, fade enough to be as close to the bright white of the real thing, he uncapped the green marker. There was a sense of gravitas in the movement, the start of the final step to this work.

Or maybe Cal was just pretentious about it, who's to say.

"Wow, Cal, you're so good!"

The sudden voice made Cal jump and, even worse, almost draw a green line straight through the board and the almost finished drawing. He turned around to realize that everyone in the room was staring at him.

Maybe he should've thought this would happen, but he felt the heat on his cheeks rise nonetheless.

It was Sally-Anne who had spoken, turned around on her seat where she was facing Eleanor. Both were smiling. A few desks ahead, Jonathan had abandoned his reading and instead was looking at Cal with interest, head resting on his hand.

Cal avoided all their eyes, fidgeting with the green marker instead "Um, thanks. Just a hobby, no big deal."

Sally-Anne raised her eyebrows. "Are you joking? This is amazing! It's like, the best Phantom art I've ever seen!"

Cal blushed even harder. "You're exaggerating, but thanks."

Eleanor gasped "Oh my God, no one better erase this! Quick, I need a picture!" she swiftly pulled out her phone and paused. "Hey Cal, can you like, put a signature somewhere on that? I need to take a pic."

Cal breathed out, muttering 'no problem' and obliged.

A stutter sound came from Eleanor's phone "Awesome! I'll send it to you if you want!"

Cal refused and Eleanor shrugged, sending it to Sally-Anne instead.

Soon everyone went back to what they were previously doing and Cal was happy to be ignored. Walking over to the teacher's desk to put the markers back (and maybe look for an eraser, if Eleanor and Sally-Anne didn't kill him first), he was suddenly aware of that ever-present yet so distant chill and his head snapped up towards the room.

At that moment, he locked eyes with Danny Fenton, and Cal froze.

It was impossible to pinpoint what was wrong exactly, which made things worse. Danny Fenton looked as he usually did; tired, bruised, head resting against his hand and unruly hair falling in his face. Yet there was something just wrong. His pallor was pale, unnervingly so, the bluing bruise against his cheek and graze on his lip contrasting dramatically against his skin. But his gaze was so sharp that Cal was sure that Danny could see right though his skin and into his brain.

It happened slowly, and then all at once.

Worst of all, Cal now knew where that ever so familiar chill came from, and he was almost shocked he didn't recognize it before. The aura of the dead was practically oozing off Danny Fenton.

Time felt like it was slowing down as Cal was locked in by those eyes, a shade of blue so cold it was painful and, for the first time, Cal realized that he was seeing Danny Fenton.

Cal wasn't sure how long he was trapped under that gaze. It felt like eons, but it couldn't have been more than seconds. As he felt his brain melt under the realization that something was frighteningly wrong with one of the people he knew, something happened that shocked him out of his spiraling.

Danny smiled. The faintest, most tired lift of lips, yet it was enough to transform the aura of wrong and that trapping stare, like deciding to let free an animal that was going to become dinner.

Just like that, with a movement so simple, the chill was passive again. Cal smiled back.

Feeling like he was floating, Cal went back to his desk. He took a seat as the bell rang and his classmates soon started filtering in, all of them taking a moment to show various levels of awe towards his drawing.

Throughout it all, Cal kept his head tilted and one eye, watching Danny's reaction. To anyone else, he looked like he had just woken up from a nap, groggy and unfocused. But Cal now knew better. He had realized the wrongness, and knew there was more hidden behind these icy eyes.

He didn't know what, he didn't know how. He didn't know when it had started, or why, but there was one thing Cal was sure of.

There was something very wrong with Danny Fenton.

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