#This is my first time writing a prompt

[anglers1mp]

GO X DP prompt(?)

This isn’t a new fic, but it is kinda a prompt.

Danny’s been deaged and Good Omens(GO) is about on episode one on season two.

Turns out a ‘human’ running around with powers is not very good to Angels(nor Demons) and Crowley and Aziraphele don’t hear much about that.

Then they see it with their own eyes; a small young boy, he could’ve been nine or eight(they weren’t that good with human time), Aziraphele was walking back to his bookstore when he saw it. Well the noise of crunching and honestly it was disgusting, he just had to look! He finds Danny, deaged, in an alleyway close by to his bookstore. Danny is completely filthy, his black hair is matted, his eyes shine green, his skin is deathly pale and Aziraphele can see shadows of pale white and black wings cascading down in the shadows of the alley.

(You get to decide what happens next I guess- this is just a prompt after all)

[yeoldenews]

A selection of strange and cryptic personal ads from The New York Herald, 1860s to 1890s. 14/?

[taco-rambles]

DC XDP prompt: Danny falls out of a portal literally into Batmans arms in a JL meeting.

Feel free to play with this. I probably will write more, but I'm STUCK and don't know how to write the JL or anyone else for that matter.

XXX

The Justice League meeting had gone very well. For once there were no major crisis from anyone attending, and all of the regular members of the league were in attendance. A few of the second row hero’s had begged off for one reason or another, but nothing that was a threat of any real kind.

Batman was wary, and on edge as the meeting wrapped up. It was never this simple, it just couldn’t be. There was always some kind of threat to keep an eye on, but the worst thing that had come up during the meeting were routine security updates.

No one else seemed to be on edge from the far too calm, routine meeting, and Bruce had just about convinced himself that it was really just one of those meetings where nothing outrageous would happen. It was ideal even…

Then the alarms went off, in the specific modulation that indicated a magical incursion.

Batman wasn’t the only one who’s hands went to weapons when the portal materialized above the meeting room table only a moment after the alarm went off. Swirling lazarus green had him ready for the fight even as the rest of the league went into defensive positions around the incursion.

“What…” Flash started to ask about a minute later when nothing had happened yet, the alarms still blaring.

That’s when something came flying out of the portal, at speed, back first.

Batman had a split second to decide to attack… or not. A split second to try to process the impressions and decide if this was an attack.

The portal closed as he cradled the small body that had crashed into his arms, the alarms silencing a moment later as the rest of the league tried to catch up, all of them wondering if this was some new threat.

Batman looked down at the child in his arms, a boy in his mid teens and small for his age, with white hair framing a frighteningly familiar looking face, gently pointed ears, and fangs in a mouth that gasped for breath against pain. The eyes were closed, twisted tight as the child clutched at his chest and belly, holding together severed flesh that leaked lazarus green blood from a clinical and too regular wound. Fingers tipped with small claws spasmed, tears coming from closed eyes.

“Batman?” Wonder Woman asked, Diana’s voice filled with concern as Bruce wrapped the child in his arms and stood up from where he had been knocked on his ass catching said child.

“Call down to medical. Severely wounded unknown,” he snapped, moving towards the door, only to stop as there was a flash of light in his arms, and the child suddenly gained a solid weight that was closer to human. The blood dripping from passed out hands was now brilliant red, fingertips blunt with chewed nails, the boy’s skin going from pale white to… a healthier tone.

Bruce consciously stopped cataloging his observations then, swiftly making his way to medical. Whatever this boy was, whether he intended to tug at Batman’s heart the way he was or not, was severely wounded and needed medical attention immediately.

He could process it all, and wonder why a child looking exactly like Damian Wayne had been thrown into his arms through a lazarus portal later.

XXXXX

An hour later, after a discreet call to his youngest just to be sure, Bruce watched the now sedated child in the medical cot, working on trying to face match the databases and find out if the child came from earth or not.

The searches primarily turned up Damian Wayne. Bruce knew for certain this child was not his son, but he was also running a DNA analysis because this Might be his son. It made a disheartening amount of sense for this boy to be another version of Damien, perhaps from another dimension, or some manner of clone, or perhaps Talia had simply hidden another child of his away… Bruce needed to narrow down the possibilities, to find the truth.

Of course, it was equally possible that this boy was some manner of mimic, taking on a form that would ensure his safety in unknown environment, a shape shifter intentionally injuring himself in order to infiltrate the Watchtower. Though that last theory didn’t make sense for a number of reasons. Most shape shifters would be secure enough in their abilities to simply try to mimic someone who already had access to the watch tower, to say nothing of the boy’s dramatic entrance.

Batman wasn’t thinking logically. Bruce couldn’t simply leave the boy here though. Not until he knew more, everything relevant by preference. The thought that this might be his son in any way was enough to keep him near, but he could already tell he was compromised.

He had already informed Diana and Clark, and both of them had agreed that he should stay nearby until they had the situation sorted out.

Bruce had been stuck in a circular though pattern for about fifteen minutes when a green form came into the room, J’onn looking at him calmly.

“Can you find anything out?” Batman asked without preamble, unable to bring himself to observe polite pleasantries when he was so unsettled.

“Nothing beyond surface thoughts. The boy’s mind is static and pain of the emotional kind,” J’onn stated after a moment.

Batman nodded, accepting the answer. J’onn’s abilities weren’t always the answer to everything, could indeed often be a crutch that led to the wrong answers. But they could also give the Justice League a starting point often enough.

“You should rest friend. It is unlikely that the boy will awaken soon…” J’onn cut himself off with a quiet look at the boy. “Or not. He’s coming around.”

Batman watched as the child’s eyes blinked open, drowsy expression turning to the two heros without much recognition. Bruce didn’t let himself react, kept himself in a calm pose even as his mind once more went into overdrive.

The boy had blue eyes, not green like Damian's.

[afreakforyautja]

Trapped (yautja x human)

Part 4

[oop- more interaction with our Yautja 🤭 I love your comments and your support, they keep me writing more 💚]

(Tagging @celticsrightbuttcheek for their ongoing support 🥰)

Read Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3

You closed your eyes, taking a deep breath to gather your thoughts.

This is it… this is happening, you told yourself.

You could hear the guttural sounds of the two aliens battling nearby. Quietly, you slipped out of the chamber that had served as your only protection and crept around, desperately searching for something—anything—that could be used as a weapon.

Your panicked hands rummaged through drawers, the noise loud enough to draw the xenomorph’s attention toward you.

That split second of distraction was just enough. The Yautja drove its talons deep into the xenomorph’s ribs, earning a piercing hiss before tossing the creature aside to avoid its acid blood.

You had studied xenomorphs long enough to know their blood could melt through nearly anything on contact.

You had, unfortunately, learned that the hard way.

You could run now. This was your chance, both creatures were locked on each other. You grabbed an intravenous stand and with your hands trembling you began slowly backing out of the lab, keeping your eyes locked on the xenomorph.

Somehow, you felt the Yautja wouldn’t hunt you. You weren’t a worthy challenge in comparison.

The xenomorph, however, would kill anything without a second thought.

It hissed in your direction, and your stomach dropped. But then it looked to the left, where the Yautja had moved to flank it. Strangely, it felt like you and the Yautja were circling the xeno together, like predators converging on a common enemy. The Yautja seemed to notice your synchronized movement, perhaps thinking the same as you.

The enemy of my enemy…

The Yautja wasn’t quick enough this time. Already wounded and bleeding, it didn’t react fast enough when the xenomorph made its choice.

You.

The weaker one.

You froze in fear but stood your ground as the creature lunged. The medical probe you clutched became your only defense. You collapsed under its weight, struggling, your head thrashing side to side as its inner jaw shot out, aiming for your skull.

You held it off, just long enough.

The xeno’s weight lifted suddenly, and you gasped, the breath finally returning to your lungs. You barely registered what was happening, before your eyes locked on the savage scene before you.

The Yautja had pounced. It didn’t roar or cry out. It fought in silence, its primal, brutal attacks overwhelming the xeno. No armor, no advanced weaponry, just claws, fangs, and fury.

Everything you’d studied about their kind told you they were strategic, calculated warriors. But this? This was personal.

You remembered then—this was a younger Yautja. Not an elder. Not even a forehead scar to mark its first successful hunt. That explained the lack of discipline, the rage driving every blow. It wasn’t fighting for honor. It was fighting to end this, no matter the cost.

Please…

You whispered to yourself.

Please run.

This wasn’t your place anymore.

The xenomorph’s tail twitched, about to strike a fatal blow to the yautja’s back.

You saw it, just in time.

You ran forward and shoved the tail aside with your probe before it could pierce through the Yautja’s chest. The predator paused, its masked gaze snapping toward you. It growled, low, furious. It didn’t want your help. This was its fight. You were in the way.

But there was nothing honorable about dying in blind rage, you thought. You ignored its warning growls and pushed the tail aside again.

That second of distraction was all the xenomorph needed. With a violent shove, it knocked the Yautja off of it and launched itself at you.

You hit the floor hard. The impact stole the breath from your lungs, and for a moment, you couldn’t move. The xenomorph raised one deadly arm for the finishing blow—

But it was yanked off you before it could strike, though not without pain: its claws had grabbed a fistful of your hair, ripping it clean from your scalp. You screamed in agony.

The Yautja’s reaction to your scream was unlike anything you expected. A deafening roar erupted from its chest, a sound so raw and agonizing that it made your blood run cold. You clutched your ears, trying to block out the piercing noise.

The predator had lost all restraint.

It straddled the xenomorph now, attacking like a beast possessed. It grabbed the creature’s jaws, prying them open with brute strength. The xeno shrieked and hissed, its inner mouth striking out and biting the Yautja’s hand, but the predator didn’t stop. It wouldn’t stop.

With a final, sickening snap, it broke the xenomorph’s jaws apart, ripping one entirely off and tossing it across the lab. Then it backed away quickly, avoiding the toxic spray of its blood.

It roared loudly, as if savouring its victory.

You lay there, breath ragged, heart pounding, staring at the terrifying figure before you.

A true menace, in spirit and flesh. It was deadly and the only thing alive besides you in the room.

The Yautja moved slowly now, chest heaving. It looked at the xenomorph’s hand—still clutching strands of your hair. It knelt, touching them gently, its fingers strangely delicate as they brushed against the human hair. It took a second, trying to make sense of what it meant for you to lose strands of hair.

It meant something entirely different in Yautja culture, you figured, since their dreadlocks were more of an organ than hair.

The Yautja now turned to you and slowly stepped closer.

You instinctively backed away, just a little, unsure of its intentions.

Were you next?

It knelt before you, head tilted slightly, its eyes fixed on the bleeding spot on your scalp. You both stayed still for several long seconds.

When it finally moved, you flinched and shut your eyes.

You expected pain, maybe claws digging in…but instead, you felt the soft weight of its fingers pressing near the wound, careful, almost… curious.

You didn’t move, didn’t breathe too hard, just stared as it tilted its head, like it was trying to make sense of your bleeding. You could feel your heart hammering against your ribs, confused as hell, not knowing what to do. Run, fight, say something?

“It hurts,” you whispered, even though you knew it wouldn’t understand.

It stopped.

To your surprise, a soft purr started rumbling in its chest. You squinted up at it, trying to understand what that meant again. The sound rolled out of its chest in slow, steady waves, and for some reason you could feel it in yours.

You didn’t want it to. You were still scared. You should have been scared.

But that sound…

It was doing something to your nervous system, whether you liked it or not. Your shoulders dropped without you realising it. Your breathing slowed. It was like being wrapped in low-frequency sound that you couldn’t shake off. Some primal part of your brain responded to it like it meant safety. Calm.

You didn’t get it.

When you looked up again, it was still making that sound. Still not moving. Still just watching you quietly.

You noticed its arm then, coated in green blood. Your eyes widened in shock. You reached out instinctively, wanting to check the wound, but stopped halfway, afraid it might lash out.

But the Yautja didn’t move. In fact, it seemed to wait.

“Will you let me help now?” you asked, half-joking. If it had let you help earlier, maybe it wouldn’t be this bad.

The alien let out a low grunt, a sound that could’ve meant anything, but didn’t seem like a no.

You stood slowly, and it rose with you. When you moved, it mirrored you, as if still watching your every step.

You made your way to a specific cabinet. You remembered the tools the Yautja came with when they were captured to be studied—medical equipment and some kind of salve that you had studied before. Human medicine wouldn’t help it, but this… this might.

You reached up to the shelf and grabbed what you needed. The Yautja stood close behind, waiting. You turned to show it.

Its reaction was almost funny, looking between you and the supplies as if realizing, maybe for the first time, that you’d been capable of helping all along.

It grunted again, sounding… annoyed, maybe. Then it strode over to the operating table and sat down with exaggerated weight.

You hesitated.

It flared its mandibles at you, letting out a louder noise this time, clearly impatient.

“Okay, okay,” you muttered, suppressing a strange urge to laugh. You didn’t know why, but the way it behaved—almost human—was oddly comforting. And a little terrifying.

[pipedreame]

I am such a slut for Danny having supernatural strength and being able to kill someone with a single slap because he’s used to fighting ghosts who are built Sturdy (and literally can’t die, that is very helpful in a sparing partner) so he has to learn such meticulous control when he moves to Gotham where he starts regularly getting into scuffles with humans who think he’s an easy target (he looks like he has the sturdiness of a wet newspaper) and the whole time he’s more stressed about not drawing the Bats attention by being too good or accidentally killing someone so he has to walk that fine line of acting like a scrawny loser and dipping out at his first chance without being clocked as a meta.

Danny, laying on the ground and getting kicked repeatedly by a thug: *tries to angle himself so the guy can kick out a knot in his back*

Danny: *deadpan* oh, ow, stop that hurts, oof

Robin, watching from the rooftop and recognizing the dramatics from the Supers: father there is a meta

Batman, also watching and having flashbacks to Clark’s earlier days: *so so tired and already mentally getting the adoption paperwork ready*

[bunnyscryptarchived]

got the urge to do the 'orange peel theory' trend with rafe "can you peel this for me?" 

rafe laying on your bed, just minding his business when you come holding an orange next to his face. he doesn't even spare you a glance before muttering "no" concentrating on finishing whatever business he's doing on his phone.

"rafe" you whine, bottom lip pouted. "please?" 

"you're perfectly capable of doing it yourself" “but my nails.. i just got them done, i don’t want to ruin them” his right eye twitches as he ignores you, being his usual grumpy ole self. you huff and attempt to peel the orange yourself, trying to use the pads of your fingers instead of your nails. you don’t notice the side eye he's giving you. tongue in cheek, as he watches you struggle, but just before you can throw a fit, it’s aggressively snatched from your hands making you jump a bit. he sits on the edge of your bed and starts to peel it for you. “thank you rafey” you smile sweetly. "yeah yeah -just need me to do everything for you huh baby” letting out a low chuckle. he finishes and tosses the peel in the trash and hands you the oranges but not before eating a couple making you whine. he tugs you by the hair, bringing your face down to his. “are there any other problems you want me to solve for you?” staring at him with big lovey dovey doe eyes, bottom lip tucked in between your teeth as you shake your head ‘no’. his lips press flat as he hums, tilting his head a bit “a’ight now” lips hovering over yours, he calls you a spoilt brat before puling you into a deep kiss. 

[angstingantlers]

Perfectly Clean Mind Control

Whump: psychological abuse, mind control, manipulation, identity altering, (de)conditioning, paranoia.

-

Mind control that doesn't dominate your thoughts, it just... is your thoughts. Perfectly rewriting your will and everything it embodies. Not a single trace of resistance because this is just what you want. Why would you resist your own thoughts? Why would you disagree with your own motivations, your own desires?

Mind control that doesn't shatter once it's done, it just disappears. You don't snap back into awareness. You barely even notice. You just continue as if nothing ever happened. Maybe one moment you look back and you frown, because thinking on it, you remember when you happily followed that person out of town, and you remember what you did, you remember wanting to... but that's crazy. Why did you think that was okay? Why did you want to do that?

Or maybe you were under this mind control for so long that even once it's over you look back and say, "Oh, of course I did that." As far as you're concerned you've always held the beliefs you do now. You've always wanted to do these things. You don't remember why, but you've never had to think of why, and it doesn't matter anyway when you've always been so confident that you're right. It isn't until you're challenged on it all and reminded that you never used to be like this, that you were different before, that something has changed that you finally falter. And you try to think of where this all started, try to figure out why things changed -- and all you can really remember is an entrancing pair of eyes, and a gentle suggestion, and then your own mouth responding, "That's a great idea. Let's go."

And suddenly, you realise that you have no idea how much of what you are, what you were, and what you believed you always have been is just a lie. You don't know whether any thought you have now is really yours or just another preciously placed prompt. You don't trust your impulses, you don't trust your desires, you definitely don't trust your judgement.

You don't trust yourself. And you never can again.

[bluerosefox]

Waiting... Waiting...

So... This was inspired by listening to EPIC (FREAKING LOVE ALL THE ALBUMS, SO GOOD) and by @noxcheshire post of Tim being Odysseus reincarnated and Danny (maybe also reincarnated) being his Penelope (Here) so I had to turn it into a Dead Tired idea.

The song The Challenge is the main one here. (Cause I LOVE that song... along with Would You Fall In Love With Me Again)

So WHAT IF Danny IS the reincarnated Penelope, after becoming the Ghost King Danny's memories of his past life as Penelope returns and remembers how before dying/ or being reincarnated both Penelope and Odysseus promised to find each other in their new lives, no matter who they are, what new form they take, they will find each other.

So Danny/Penelope, just like before waits for their Odysseus to return to them, but also tries to find him in their new life (CW is laughing whenever Danny asks for hints and gets a 'In due time, just wait' answer, ugh Danny wants to smack CW for that)

However just like in his previous life with being in a high position of power, Danny is being pressured to marry/take a spouse (now its not just men/males though so its a huge headache, I head canon Ghosts don't care much for gender preference) mostly by the dang eyeballs that Danny is still trying to find a way to get rid of without upsetting the Infinite Realms delicate (but slowly healing) balance even if Danny wanted nothing more than to punch all of the suitors out.

So Danny decides to play the long game again.

And waits for their Odysseus return.

Danny's wait is over when they suddenly feel the Realms shift one day, as if welcoming someone familiar home, and the same feeling Danny had when he had been Penelope and saw the storm that was sign of Odysseus coming home, Danny decides its time to bring out The Challenge once again. (CW gifted Danny a few things from his past as Penelope as a coronation gift, like Odysseus's bow (now enchanted to be unbreakable), a painting of when he was Penelope, with Telemchus, and Odysseus, and the Marriage Bed/Olive Tree, AND the Palace Odysseus made that Danny takes to being in over being at Pariah's Keep)

-x-x-

Meanwhile

Tim Drake, aka Red Robin, always had strange dreams as a child.

War, Death, Monsters, Gods, Goddesses.

His dreams were more like nightmares, haunting him and he sometimes woke up in cold sweat.

He hated storms. Hated being in the water for to long. Hated how he felt both tense but also at home when around Greek heroes, as if he was afraid to 'disrespect' them (Cassie was the only one he didn't feel that way around, mostly cause they had been somewhat friends before their heroing since their parents knew each other) but also knew how to appease them should he insult them. He also had a strange hatred for the CoO with a burning passion because he felt like they were mocking real Owls.

The worst part of nightmares that always pop up are of what feels like should be his home is being invaded by unwanted guests (they aren't guests), how they are angry over trying to string a bow and shot an arrow through axes, of the terrible terrible things he hear them saying they were going to do to his loved ones (two names that keep getting muted out).

How it ends in bloodshed with echoing of begging, pleading, mercy, and screams.

However in those nightmares at the end. He also finds himself looking for something in them.

Or rather he always found someone waiting for him at the end of the nightmares. Calling him by the wrong name but it sounds just right coming from them.

The dream always ends with the person asking 'How long has it been?' and before he can answer he wakes up.

So yeah Tim has horrifying nightmares/dreams he could never explain.

And the urge to find someone. To go home to them.

It isn't until he and his friends from Young Justice are hit by a spell from Klarion (who may or may not had a visit from a certain chaos encouraging Time Keeper) and sent to a place called the Infinite Realms in the middle of their fight, that Tim is hit hard with déjà vu when he spots a certain Palace in the distance and overhears some of the 'people?' (they glow and float and some don't even look human?! where are they?) talk about how the 'King' has issued a new 'Challenge' for his 'suitors'.

A Challenge involving a bow, and axes.

And Tim, feels like he knows this all too well and needs to do it.

[starry-songs-canvas]

Take Care of Him

The boy, who had Damian’s face, couldn’t be more different than Dick’s (alive?) baby brother.

Aside from his Snow White hair, he smiled and laughed freely, making puns on top of his embarrassing story about his supposed twin brother. ��

(“Clones don’t have childhood memories right?  So if I have an embarrassing story or two, that’ll give you a way to check that I’m not a clone AND give you ammunition for teasing!”)

“—And that’s how his face—and his pride—was forever wounded by Sparta the warrior cat!”  Danny finished his story with a flourish, cracking up immediately after.

“Huh, and to think he left it at “training”, obviously he didn’t think anyone would let the cat out of the bag.”  Dick said, laughing even as he eyed the lookalike.

Danny snorted.  “Yeah, I doubt he thought anything as Cat-astropic as that would happen.”

They sat in silence for a moment, overlooking the buildings below, with the Dalv. Co. Labs smoking in the distance and the breeze blowing past the two, yet only seeming to affect Nightwing and not the phantom beside him.

“Is he safe?  Is he happy?” Danny murmurs as he looks up at the stars, looking every bit the forlorn ghost he claimed to be.

“…We keep each other safe.  And I’d say once he got past the stabbing faze, he’s pretty happy in Gotham.”

“But I’m sure it’d make him happy to see you again.”  Dick thought back to the comments the vampire-ghost they’d fought earlier.  It didn’t sound exactly, “happy” or “safe” for Danny.  Or anyone else involved.

Danny shook his head.  “Nah.  He’s… moved on.  And with how crazy my after-life is?  I’m already dealing with ghosts, ghost-hunters, and my—err—that frootloop from earlier.  I do not need to add furries and murder-ninjas to the mix.”

Danny sighed as he floated into a standing position.  “Speaking of which, if you could just, maybe not tell him you saw me?  Better to let dead dogs lie.”

Danny’s piercing Lazarus green eyes looked at Dick and he saw the exact same expression B had on whenever he “had to do it alone”.

“Just, take care of him, Kay?  Or I’ll haunt you to the ends of the universe!”  He said, throwing up a peace sign as he turned invisible.

Dick snorted, “Yeah, sure kid.”

Dick got up and started off toward the bat-plane.  He had a brother to interrogate, and another brother/clone of his brother to find.

[is-this-even-relatable]

Misfortune Teller

tldr: An older Danny, apprentice to Clockwork, does a lot of field work across dimensions, resetting the timeline, queuing future events, and who knows what else. Occasionally, he warns people about such upcoming possibilities, to set them on the right path. How, you might ask? Well in this case... as a wandering fortune teller.

Crack-fic (oh god, it's getting long and my logic brain won't let it remain as crack) where Danny becomes Clockwork's apprentice after getting his GED. Living his infinite afterlife to the fullest. Inspired by this tumblr post.

Working for Clockwork had been... interesting so far. At first, Danny got frustrated by how vague and cryptic Clockwork was. He'd just shunt Danny off to some ancient time with a few words, his own time medallion (Danny carried it everywhere with him now), and then pop back into the portal, leaving Danny with only the faintest idea of where to go.

Eventually, after enough time (ha!) spent around Clockwork, Danny figured out that it just basically meant that he had free reign and to do whatever he wanted. Because if he went on the wrong path, (like that one time in Pompeii when he had almost caused the volcano to explode a few years too early), Clockwork would just pop on by, say another few cryptic words, and then it'd all be fine and dandy, or as he liked to say, "All is as it should be... Now stop practicing your wail by an active volcano."

After telling Jazz about that (it was supposed to be funny, not concerning), she just sighed and shook her head, with a forlorn "think before you act, Danny!" but hey, it'd turned out fine so far, so who cares how he does what Clockwork asks him to do, as long as it gets done, right? Even if it's with a liiiiitle more mischief than strictly required.

Besides. Danny was the one who had been doing time shenanigans across millennia, not Jazz. And he thought he'd been getting pretty good at it too! He'd actually started giving himself a different made-up background for each universe he visited. Sam and Tucker were helping him keep up with the identities on a spreadsheet, so if he had to go back to one he'd already visited, he'd remember who he'd said he was supposed to be.

---

He was on a call with them one evening while haunting Jazz's apartment, doing just that, when he felt a familiar tingle in the back of his throat, as well as a heightened awareness of the seconds passing by, that always accompanied his mentor's appearance.

Sam was talking about his past stint posing as a god of death when he cut in. "Hey- sorry to interrupt, Sam- Clocky's here, guys, I gotta dip."

"Aw, come on! We hardly talked any this past week since you passed your certifications, man," Tucker complained.

Danny rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly. "Yeah, yeah. Partly on you too though, you've been caught up outside of class, and Sam's schedule is nearly the opposite of yours."

Sam hummed in agreement despiter Tucker's scoff.

Danny missed hanging out with them as much as they had in high school, but hey, life goes on. Or at least, theirs did, to college. After finally flunking out of Casper High, he'd taken some time to get used to his responsibilities in the ghost zone, and when he had, he realized that he didn't really have much enthusiasm or timeleft for his human life.

And he didn't really want to go back home either.

But Jazz had made him tie up any loose ends before he noped-off to god knows where, which frankly, he had to thank her for. Getting his GED took a few years, but it was an accomplishment that could be attributed to Danny Fenton, no ghostliness required. Then he was able to let that tether go free.

Pulled out of his musings by a few more grumbles from Tucker, Danny said his goodbyes, promising to call the next time they were all available.

After hanging up, Danny swiveled around, anticipation already lighting up his eyes an ethereal green.

Clockwork, for his part, had been waiting patiently through Danny's lengthy goodbyes. Although he supposed that it tracked for the watcher of time to be patient. With his job, it'd be a nightmare if he wasn't.

"Phantom," Clockwork spoke, calm as always. "I have some tasks I need you to complete as my apprentice."

And Danny, always ready for adventure, didn't need him to explain any further. "Sure! When do you need me to be?"

Clockwork smiled at that. "I am fortunate you are eager. Follow me."

---

Danny popped into existence in this universe with a burst of cold air and static electricity. He found himself hovering by a clocktower above a sprawling, gothic city. Smog and light pollution obscured the stars above him, to his disappointment. He comforted himself with the fact that he'd probably have all the time he wanted to fly someplace less populated to see them later.

He started off by familiarizing himself with the city. As he flew, he followed the trail of power and met the resident city-spirit, a spooky- but kind underneath- woman draped in black lace, who told him her name was Gotham. He spoke in length with her about this universe, its heroes, and her knights. On that, she was very enthusiastic... or at least Danny thought she was, her projected emotions belaying much more than her gloomy exterior. She told him how her knights had been through a lot and would need some guidance fighting the darkness that pooled in her deepest corners, smiling with too much glee, filling lungs with fear, and terrorizing with cold hard bullets.

Danny could sense that the dangers she spoke of were growing in power, ever slowly. The longer they shadowed people's minds and hearts, an intangible thing grew that lent them more otherworldly pull than their physical forms had right to hold.

That must be what he was sent here for.

But... they were weak, pitifully so for him, infinite king as he was. And besides, he wasn't here in that sense. He was a messenger, a simple apprentice. And he could do this however he wanted.

Cue his talk with Lady Gotham, and subsequent idea to arm her knights. With what? Well, he figured knowledge would be a start. Flying high above the city invisibly, Danny noticed a sea of colors and lights by what appeared to be the city's pier. He flew down, noting that it appeared to be the setup spot for a travelling circus or carnival of some kind.

He considered what to do. One of Lady Gotham's troubles was a madman clown, right? Well maybe he'd be attracted to his ilk here... and with the danger came the knights. Maybe he could catch one of them here?

Danny was floating around at the entrance and beginning to formulate a plan when a flyer caught his eye. Looking for a mystic to read fortunes. URGENT!

Hadn't Clockwork said something about fortunes? And he hadn't made an identity in this universe yet...

A mischievous smile crept across Danny's face, splitting it in two with far too many teeth.

---

Half a city away, a man in all black, perched on the very same clocktower that Phantom had Appeared by, shivered as he felt an ominous premonition about his sanity in the near future...

Said man quickly opened his comms to check in with his many, many kids. Yet even after hearing back from each, he still felt apprehensive.

Somewhere even further, Clockwork laughed.

---

And that's how Danny found himself seated at a fortune teller's booth at a pier in Gotham, two days later, for the Tricksy Traveling Circus's grand opening.

[corkinavoid]

DPxDC Afterlife, But It's A Bar

[discontinued, feel free to add on]

It was weird. Not wrong, alarming or dangerous type of weird. Not good or comforting either.

Just plain weird.

It all started a few days ago, on Wednesday, to be exact. On a rare occasion, Jason was patrolling outside of his territory ("cover for me, I have a date" my ass, Replacement), and he spotted something out of place. A neon green, almost toxic colored sign that read "Afterlife".

Honestly, who names a place like that? But judging by the placement and design, it was a bar, and Jason could almost appreciate the irony. Maybe it had a slogan along the lines of "our drinks will send you beyond the lines of life and death" or something. But at the same time, it could be interpreted as "alcohol can and will be the death of you," which, technically, is not the best PR campaign for a bar.

Jason decided to visit the place anyway. He was curious about the implied death joke, sue him.

Of course, he didn't visit immediately. He was still on patrol, and he just heard the sound of gunshots to the west. Not to say that the place was quiet.

(Oddly quiet for a bar in Gotham, now that he thinks about it)

Anyway, the next day, he went there not as Red Hood but as Jason Todd, an ordinary civilian who decided to grab a beer in the evening. Only to not find the place.

He couldn't have just miss it - he remembered the street, he knew the building, he was absolutely fucking sure where the "Afterlife" should have been. He searched the whole block nonetheless, and then proceeded to check the whole area, but to no avail.

Damn, it seems like he can't get to the afterlife both literally and- the other literally. Yeah, he might be having too much fun with the oddly chosen name for the nonexistent bar.

It didn't exist on the maps and internet either. At this point, Jason was contemplating the idea of it being a hallucination or a dream. He even checked the recording on his helmet from Wednesday night, but the whole time he was in the area, the video was filled with interference and static.

Weird. Slightly suspicious, but Red Robin, who's been patrolling the same area for weeks before him, never reported any interferences, so it probably had something to do with his helmet and not the area in general.

On Thursday night, he purposefully went there right after patrol. And the nonexistent bar suddenly existed again! The same neon green sign, the same quiet street around it.

Seriously, what is this mysterious fuckery?

Now, if he was a Bat, he would have reported this to others and investigated, lurked around in shadows, and approached with caution. If he was a Robin, he would have still reported and then straight up marched in there and saw how it goes.

Alas, he was Red Hood, so he decided to watch for the bar guests and see just who the hell goes in and out of the place.

And there was the next weird thing.

No one was going in or out. Jason sat there for a whole hour, and not even one person entered or left the building. Despite the muffled sounds of music, voices and laughter coming from the place.

The final kicker was the fact that after some careful questioning and dropping hints, Jason found out that no one except him ever saw the "Afterlife"'s sign. No one's even heard of it, both the Batclan and the Gothamites.

The fuck?

So he did the next logical thing. He brought the smartest member of the Bats with him. Tim owed him anyway. Might as well use it now instead of later.

Friday night proved two things: one, Tim was still his favorite to work with out of all the bats and birds, not questioning anything as to why Jason is asking him to check out a bar, and two, Jason just might be going insane.

Tim couldn't see the "Afterlife" even when Jason pointed at the sign from not further than ten feet. The irony of the stipid name was not even amusing anymore.

Tim didn't ask any questions after this experiment, and Jason didn't want to admit that he is losing the grip of reality, so they ended up simply parting their ways after. Can the Pits cause brain damage? More damage than there was in the first place, that is.

Now that he thinks about it, the color of the sign is really similar to the Lazarus waters. He should have noticed it sooner, but in his defense, who would look at the bubbling pool of toxic waters and think, "Oh, that would make a dope neon sign"? Apparently, the owner of the "Afterlife".

The color might be just a coincidence.

...no, in the world he lives in, coincidences like this just don't happen. Besides, Jason doesn't believe in shit like fate or destiny.

So, here he is, on Saturday night, standing in front of the door to the Afterlife. It would have been funny if it wasn't so weird. What's even more weird is that the closer he gets to the door, the less nervous he feels, like the place is radiating some calming aura. Wait, no, scratch that, Jason is so not calling it a calming aura for God's sake. That sounds just like those homemade witches with their crystals, tarot readings, and whatnot.

He's going to call it... tranquilizer vibes. Yeah, that's better.

He takes a deep breath, getting ready to see whatever it is on the other side, pushes the door open, and walks into the bar.

...

Whatever he's been expecting to see, it's not this.

[writersisland]

Found Family/Team as Family Prompts

Older mentor/team leader and the new, younger team member

1. "I wish I'd met you earlier." "Earlier? Any earlier and you'd be in diapers, kid."

2. "You alright?" "Alright? That was awesome!" "… I miss having this much enthusiasm."

3. "You weren't raised to kneel, kid. And don't dishonor yourself by turning the other cheek. Get up."

4. "Can I have a hug?" "… C'mere. You alright?"

5. "Why do you hate me?" "I don't hate you. I hate having to drag more people into this fight—no matter who."

6. "Hey, uh… There's an issue involving the new kid, and I was told to get you…" *alarmed* "What issue?" "The, uh… The arm stuck in the vending machine kind?" "… Yeah, I'll be there in a second."

7. "Why did you tell me to leave?" "What happened is nothing I haven't seen before, and nothing you should ever see."

8. "An eye for an eye makes the world go blind." "Then maybe these fuckers should stop going for the eyes of my people."

9. "Oi. You got any allergies?" "Are you making me a lunchbox?" "It's called rationing. Do you?"

10. "How'd you get that scar?" "Mauled by a dog." "And that one?" "Knife." "And the one on your face? Must've happened in a fight with some assassin, right? Were you defending some secret intel? Or protecting someone-" "I tripped up the stairs."

[rawbin-hsr]

Aventurine x Reader

You treat Aventurine with more respect than he deserves.

Read part 2 here !

Only barely proof-read, guaranteed to have lots of grammatical errors, English is not my first language and I am experimenting with my writing style <3

CW: smut, handjob (Aventurine receiving), dehumanisation (internal, thoughts Aventurine has of himself, referring to himself as a “monster”), feelings of inadequacy, hurt/very little comfort, crying, mentions of death, at some points this seems like dubcon because Aventurine speaks of feeling “dread”, but it’s NEVER intended to be read as him not wanting to receive touch from reader, it is meant to convey how little he thinks he deserves this. The smut is soft and gentle, but Aventurine’s internal thoughts definitely are not <3

Lmk if there’s anything else I should warn about !!

18+, minors will be blocked <3

Your touch is so kind. Soft and gentle, as if he is made of the finest porcelain, as if he is a fragile flower, as if he is delicate. It is cruel, he thinks, that he has made you think he is any less than a monster. It is cruel that he hasn’t pushed you away, when he knows he will devour you. It has become part of his nature.

But how can he push you away when you are so persistent? How can he push you away when you roll with his punches, when you go along with each and every one of his pushes and pulls? It is hard to keep you out when you insistently pry your way into what’s left of his soul, when you gaze upon the rotten corpse that he is and still claim him to be beautiful. He thinks you must be blind at best and naive at worst.

“You’re so pretty,” you whisper reverently, and though Aventurine knows his body is, he also knows that is not the part of him you’re referring to. Not when your hand rests on his chest, above the empty cavern where his heart is meant to be.

You kiss his neck and he shivers. There’s a pit in his stomach, knotting his insides with dread.

He should tell you to stop, should warn you that he’s deceiving you, that he’s not the person you think he is. Should show you that he is a wolf in sheep’s clothing, that he is a bad omen. But he can’t bring himself to. Not when being with you feels so good, not when he’s self-indulgent to a fault, and he can’t help himself with you. He is the worst mistake you could ever make, in part because he can’t even stop from letting you continue to make it.

His hands rest on the back of your neck, fingers tangled in your hair. It is unfair how good your touch feels, his back arching just from mere caresses upon his skin. You play him like he’s an instrument you’ve practiced for years, despite never having fucked him before. He digs his heels into your back as your hand wraps around his dick, and he whines into your shoulder when you lovingly stroke it.

“I love you,” you murmur as he pulls on your hair, as his nails dig into your skin, and he wants to cry. He will destroy you from the inside out, he knows, or maybe he will kill you before he gets the chance to. He can never keep the things he loves alive.

Your lips kiss his skin, and he moans brokenly as your thumb glides over the head of his cock, pushing down on the tip. His hips rock up to meet your hand, and he feels ashamed of how blatantly he allows himself to enjoy you, how blatantly he allows himself to use you. You deserve so much better, but you are the best thing that he has ever managed to get his bloodstained hands on, and so he can’t help himself. He wants you to remain unaware of how much better you could do. He wants you to stubbornly remain by his side even when he makes it hard for you to do so. He wants to bare every part of his being to you so you can see how little worth he is to you. He wants you to run from him before it’s too late.

But part of him knows he already has shown you himself, that you’ve seen who he is and you still love him. You must be stupid.

“Use me,” he begs you, wishing you’d do something with him to alleviate the guilt he feels, so it would at least be mutual. His hands cling to you, and he whimpers pathetically when you lean back to look down at him. “Use me, please. Please…”

And your eyes are so kind. Your eyes are so sweet and soft and human, and everything he is not.

“Shh,” you hush him, tenderly pressing a kiss to his lips. He sobs, feeling embarrassing tears fill his eyes as you press closer to him, the touch so caring and innocent yet so lewd as your hand tugs at him. “Just let me make you feel good, okay?”

And you do. You always keep true to your words, unlike him. It’s barely a minute later that his breath hitches and he keens, nearly wailing into your neck as he comes undone under your too loving hands. It’s obscene, and he feels filthy as his semen paints your hand and splatters on his lower stomach. He has soiled your perfect skin, has dirtied your perfect body. He hopes you will let go of him and wash yourself up, then leave him here, broken on the bed in the mess he’s created. That you will leave him to pick up the pieces of himself he has left. He is undeserving of you.

And yet he only feels your love swaddle him when his body relaxes, adoring praises and sweet words tumbling from your perfect lips as your perfect hands gently stroke his body, soothing him as if he is deserving. Your perfect body presses closer to him, no doubt getting his mess on your perfect abdomen as you almost lay yourself flat on him. You pepper perfect kisses all over his face, and he realises belatedly he’s crying. For the first time in ten years. Fat tears rolling down his cheeks, and he doesn’t know for what reason.

But you seem like you do know. You look so understanding, wiping his tears with an achingly kind, perhaps slightly sad smile, and you don’t ask him why.

“I’ve got you now, it’s okay,” you say instead. And you do, because you always keep true to your word.

And he is selfish, because he doesn’t stop you. He lets you clean him up, lets you kiss his tears away, lets you take care of him. Lets you climb into bed with him afterwards, unaware that you have brought the monster under your bed up into your loving arms. He hasn’t felt so much love since he was nine.

And he is selfish, because even though he can already feel his claws dig into your flesh as he holds you in return, he cannot bring himself to pull away. He can only hope he won’t dig in his heels when you eventually see reason and try to leave. He can only hope you will have the time to get away before he kills you.

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

My inbox is open, feel free to send in asks or requests, I'd love to ramble about things <3

[thepinkprincesss]

it'd started when you entered middle school, being an early bloomer n'all you had what most girls didn't— boobs and an ass. you’d been cautious since then, especially once the attention of guys in your grade began to grow, and so had the teasing. but that doesn't mean you wanted them. the baggy clothes you wore to cover up yourself represented that— you didn't fit the shoes of someone who took pride in showing themselves off.

your whole life you'd been celibate, at least that's what you've told everyone your whole life.

you’d grown to dread the look in their eyes, how they looked you up and down but especially when they’d let their gaze linger on your chest and ass before looking back up to your face. it made you feel objectified, no less of a person and just a pretty doll to take their lust out on, nothing more than their own personal toy.

that was till you met jj.

you’d seen him around the island in a faded black hoodie always wearing that stupid cap and a joint perched between his lips, all you knew of him was that he was blunt, a smartass who wouldn’t sugarcoat anything to save your feelings— he spoke to people like an equal — and it intrigued you. safe to say that year in ninth grade you made it your personal mission to get to know him, although you'd went to elementary and middle school, you never really got to know him.

you'd expected nonetheless for him to be alike to all the others boys in your grade, but with jj it was different, something about him felt so real to you. he was attractive, and not in that pretty boy look-at-me kind of way that the boys were; with his messy unkempt hair, that you assumed he'd cut himself— the permanent scowl on his face and the scruff on his chin like he never bothered putting effort into his appearance.

you’d never thought you’d even find yourself being with him, at first it was just because he was the one guy who caused trouble any chance he got, looking like the typical bad boy that every parent warns their child about, and that you should definitely steer clear of. he certainly did catch your eye, though. every time he’d be sitting on his own outside smoking, his hands fiddling with the lighter, you’d find your eyes drifting towards him during lunch, only to snap yourself out of it.

your sucked back into reality by jj, he’s kissing against the sensitive skin of your neck before his lips move higher to your ear, nipping at your lobe before letting go to speak, that voice of his all sultry and deep sending chills to your stomach. he's applying sloppy kisses to your cheek now, the sweat created within the two of you becoming slippery and it's a struggle to keep close.

you’re on your back, legs wrapped like a bow around jj's waist as he works to satisfy you— his hair is getting longer and messy, strands sticking together from the sweat and it’s hanging over his face, the ends tickling over yours whenever it gets close enough and it’s absolutely wrecking your brain and you can’t get enough of it; the sight and the touch, his face, all of it.

you can't keep the moans contained much longer— it all becomes to much. he’s pressing his thumb onto your bottom lip to stop your moans from getting too loud. “shh, shh..” he mumbles, and you’re trying your best to hold them back but you can’t really help it when everything feels like that and it’s so hard to keep quiet. “you gotta stay quiet.” his voice is so gentle, and you manage a whimper as you nod, feeling him smile against your skin.

“mnghh. oh — oh fuuucck, right —” the way he’d groan low like that, the sound coming from deep within his chest — like he was in need, like you somehow felt too good to handle. both his hands were gripping the underside of your thighs, anchoring you to him, keeping you close, keeping you in place. you’re panting heavily, mouth open in ecstasy as you whine out his name — it was embarrassing, it made you feel so vulnerable in his arms. you’re desperate — for release, for him, you’re squeezing around him.

you look like you’re in bliss, head dropped back in ecstasy, letting loose all the sinful moans that you know drive him absolutely feral. his fingers grip the undersides of your thighs, holding you down on the pillow while his mouth sucks and bites at the skin of your neck, teeth leaving behind an imprint of his possession. the sounds of your whines and whimpers bouncing off the walls, adding fuel to the fire that’s burning away deep inside him that drives him forwards, craving your pleas and gasps as they spill out through your perfect pink lips.

he’s swearing, breath coming out in huffs, eyes almost screwed shut — as though taking in every last single feeling, and he’s looking down at you, looking at the way you’re writhing under him — mouth hanging open in a constant string of moans, eyes glossy, hair messy and sticking to your forehead.

he thinks to himself that you look almost pornographic, the thought makes you suddenly feel so exposed, he’s looking at you with such adoration, and his pace is steady but firm — but you feel so bare under him, it’s starting to become a little overwhelming — almost too good, too intimate — overstimulating. it’s too much, and you suddenly start to squirm, as if trying to get away almost — but you don’t go far. he’s too in-control — he always is — even in such intense circumstances, he holds you in place, keeping you on his bed as he murmurs lowly, keeping his voice even and smooth. ”c’mon, don’t start doing that now. be a good girl." he coaches you, giving you a rough pat to your side.

the praise alone nearly makes you start to whine again, his voice is commanding you, soothing you, it’s sending heat through you straight to your core — and it’s only then that he notices your trembling. "jayj! it's— too much!" your legs struggling against him, nails digging into his scalp and back, squirming all around like a cat getting a bath.

”oh, baby..” a pause. he starts to speak, the tone more loving than before. “is it too much, honey?” he lets his voice go soft as he asks tenderly, and you’re suddenly feeling so spoiled by him, feeling so loved and full, he lets go of one of your thighs to check on you.

you feel sensitive, overwhelmed. a little shaken up if you were to be honest, but with the way he was treating you like fine china in this moment, you were beginning to feel better. it was hard to form any words, you’re trying to even your breathing, hands coming to rest on his shoulders — you’re holding on to him, needing to feel his strength as you calm yourself down. you just needed him, always did. you nodded sweetly, flashing him a cheeky reassuring smile— "uh-huh jayj m' okay!"

his eyes almost gleam when he sees that beautiful smile of yours, and he’s letting out a slow exhale as he takes in your blissed out expression, taking in everything there is to see — he’s starting to calm down too, feeling satisfied, but it all comes to a stop as he hears the tone of your voice. "you’re such a good girl, you know that?” he murmurs, and you feel so safe in his arms, feeling like his own personal teddy bear in the moment — something to keep close, to adore.

as it’s your first time, it was expected to be overwhelming — you’d never felt so full in your life — so vulnerable. his touch was so gentle as he kept going, making sure you were okay. it’s intense, but his constant caresses and praises keep you calm and reassured. it’s a lot but it’s good and there was no one you’d rather be with to take that first step. "i love you."

“god, you’re a lil angel, ain’t you.” he murmurs, his tone all velvety, you think you would’ve melted right then and there if you weren’t already a puddle under him. he takes your hands from his shoulders and pins them back next to your head now, using his hands as leverage to hold you down and keep you in place.

it’s only a month into your weird situationship and he’s got you completely entranced — and he can see that. you like to pretend you’re not clingy, that you weren’t absolutely enamoured with him, the pining look in your eyes betrayed you. he’s never been the “exclusive” type but having you constantly coming around and begging for his attention all the time was starting to warm his heart, in a way that he wasn’t used to. it felt nice.

you bat your eyelashes at him, taking his time and being patient with you, making sure everything is perfect and you feel good— even made sure you felt comfortable on your back, propped up stuffed animals although that's bare minimum, you still appreciated the effort he put into your first experience, it turns you on more then ever, you know he's ticking not to go rough on you. "y'could go rough y'know."

he’s scoffing, shaking his head a bit, his hands are rubbing your wrists now — rubbing light soothing circles on the sensitive skin. “don’t be ridiculous, sweetheart, i don’t wantcha hurtin’ yourself.” he speaks softly, keeping his tone gentle and light. protective almost, like you were a delicate little bird he didn’t dare scare away.

“please.” you murmur, voice pleading, hands clawing into his shoulders. “just a lil harder? i want it, i can handle it.” he bites his tongue, jaw muscles clenching — he hesitates just for a moment, eyes flicking between you and the headboard as he weighs up his options. he knows if he does what you ask it’s over for him, all his self-control is gone when you’ve got him so soft.

“you don’t know what you’re on about. just — just trust me, okay? i’m not gonna hurt you. i need you to trust me.” his hands are rubbing your thighs again, trying to soothe you before his tone turns almost stern. "y-yes, i trust you. just..” you pause for a moment, taking in his intense gaze, his hands still resting on your thighs, holding you on the bed as he looks down at you, struggling to defend your own honor.

“ “please? i can take it. i just —” you began to ramble, noticing when j went silent you cut yourself off, suddenly embarrassed, suddenly feeling so small under his gaze.

’m i understood?” he looks at you pointedly, waiting for an answer. he can be so authoritative sometimes, it’s a bit surprising when he's the goofy one in the relationship.

you want to argue with him on it but you can't bring yourself to do so, he's still inside you after all and you can feel his movement even if it's fatal. but it does things to you, you can’t lie, making you feel all warm and fuzzy. it makes it hard to argue back at him, especially in this vulnerable position — he still hasn’t broken eye contact with you, waiting with that firm look on his face for your response. for the little time he knows you, he grew to adapt to the fact that your silence speaks louder than your words.

it’s only a few moments but it feels like forever before he looks away, sighing out as he turns his head, breaking the intense eye contact. he’s still continuing his gentle ministrations as he starts to speak again. “i’m just looking out for you, okay? you’re new t’this and i don’t want things getting any rougher than the basics for your first time, yeah?”

just as your about to let it go, forget it and confide into him— your hit with something you can't find to put into words. it happened accidentally because the position you were in began to cause an ache in your back, you shifted more frontal up and back to fast. it all happened so fast, your head goes fuzzy from the unexpected feeling. it’s like electricity is coursing through your spine, heat and pleasure spreading through every nerve in your body. “oh — oh! fu-” it’s so intense and a part of you wants more, but another part of you panics at just how good it felt, it feels like too much but yet you find yourself clenching tighter around him as he keeps you pinned, like your body is betraying you to feel more of that feeling.

she’s completely embarrassed, feeling so flustered at the loud moan that escaped her. it didn’t make it any better with the way he grinned a smug smug grin that made his handsome features all the more striking. it’s almost condescending when he speaks again, tone cocky. “aww, my baby got her first milestone, squirting!” he says in a voice that should be used for a school graduation, but instead it's for you, because you had an orgasm.

it makes her heart pound, even more so when he brings one of his hands up to her face again to caress her cheek in a reassuring motion. “i was only teasin’ yuh, darlin’.” he chuckles lightly, “you’re doin’ just fine, okay? you’ll know what y’can take and what you can’t, all you needa do it tell me.” his voice is caring, and gentle. he was always so caring of her, always so gentle, so tender like she was fine crystal and he didn’t want to break her.

before you could even acknowledge what had happened, he’s already pulling out, sitting back down against the headboard of the bed before you lay against him. he pulls the blankets up around you, wrapping an arm around your bare shoulders and pulling you close. “did so good, honey..” he murmurs as he runs his fingers through your hair tenderly, you can feel the rumble in his chest against your ear, his low voice soothing.

you just smile, accepting the praise and his love— a little irritated that your left to wipe up the liquid you'd oozed out, still a little surprised all that came out of something so— little.

[musette22]

Orpheus & Eurydice || Steve & Bucky

Moodboard for the @wintershieldbingo

Square: Mythology AU ✔️

I've always felt that the story of Steve and Bucky, particularly as told in Captain America: The First Avenger, had a lot in common with the Ancient Greek myth of Orpheus and Eurydice. For that reason, I have chosen to fill the Mythology AU square on my Wintershield Bingo card by creating a moodboard to draw narrative and visuals parallels between these two tragic love stories.

Orpheus & Eurydice

Orpheus was an artist, the greatest lyre player in the world, who was happily married to the love of his life, the beautiful Eurydice. Their happy life together gets cut short, however, when Eurydice is bitten by a viper and dies, leaving a heartbroken Orpheus behind. Orpheus cannot accept his true love’s death, and so he travels to the Underworld on a quest to get Eurydice back.

Orpheus manages to overcome various hurdles, such as getting past Cerberus, the three-headed hound who guards the gates to the Underworld, and finally pleads with Hades, the king of the Underworld to let Eurydice live again. Hades allows this on one condition: Eurydice is to follow behind Orpheus while walking out of the darkness of the Underworld towards the light of the land of the living, but Orpheus should not turn to look at her before she is fully out in the light again. However, as they begin to ascend towards the land of the living, Orpheus, afraid that his lover is no longer behind him, looks back to make sure she is following, causing Eurydice to tragically fall back into the shadows and be trapped in the Underworld once more. 

Steve Rogers & Bucky Barnes

Steve and Bucky are very close friends and most likely even lovers, who live a mostly happy life together in Brooklyn. When World War II breaks out, Bucky is drafted and joins the army, while Steve stays behind in New York. In Italy, Bucky's squad is taken by the enemy, and he is kept prisoner in a dark, abandoned factory housing the lab of Hydra (incidentally also a multi-headed beast from Greek mythology).

When Steve, who received a superserum which turned him into the world's greatest soldier (as well as an artist), eventually also joins the army and gets to Italy, he is told Bucky is most likely dead. Steve point blank refuses to accept that, and embarks on a one man rescue mission - a quest, if you will - to get Bucky back. Armed with a wooden shield, the shape of which bears a similarity to a lyre, overcomes numerous obstacles, fighting Hydra goons and even Red Skull, who looks like the devil incarnate. Steve manages to free Bucky and even jumps over what strongly resembles the fiery pits of hell to get to freedom, only to lose Bucky again a short while later, when Bucky tragically falls from a train and is subsumed once more into the Underworld, i.e. Hydra’s claws.

Aside from the many narrative parallels, many visual parallels also exist between depictions of Orpheus and Eurydice in classical art and various scenes and images in CA:TFA. The moodboard above attempts to illustrate these parallels and similarities.

[darwin-are]

Steddie abo domestic fluff

modern setting, mpreg, omega steve, alpha eddie, domestic bliss/fluff

Eddie has just gotten home from work at the garage when he quietly walks in on Steve humming and folding laundry at the dinner table. Steve hasn't noticed him yet so he takes a couple of moments to just watch his mate. They've been together for a couple of years now and Eddie still feels a wave of love whenever he looks at Steve. Then he shifts his eyes to the swell of Steves belly and he can feel even more love and happiness wash over him.

After watching the omega humming and folding laundry for a couple of minutes Eddie remembers this video he saw at work the other day, a way to relieve his pregnant mate even for just a minute.

He feels warmth through the bond and then Steve turns his head slightly.

"Are you going to stand there and watch me all day or are you going to help me, alpha?"

Eddie just huffs a laugh and starts walking forward.

"I thought I might help you with something else sweetheart."

Steve gives him a questioning glance but before he can ask anything Eddie has pressed himself close to the omegas back, resting his arms around Steves belly and nosing at his neck. He places a few kisses to the mating mark there.

"Take a deep breath baby."

Steve give a sceptical look but does as he says. He takes a deep breath in and just as he starts to let it out Eddie gently places his hands on the underside of Steve's belly and lifts it up. The rest of the breath rushes out him at the relief. He takes another deep breath and fully leans into the alpha behind him, a blissed out look on his face from not having to carry all that weight for just a moment. Eddie just keeps nuzzling steves neck and bonding gland, pressing gentle kisses there.

"You're so strong for carrying our pup every day. So beautiful. My lovley omega."

Steve lets out a light chirp at the praise, humming a bit as Eddie keeps placing kisses wherever he can reach.

They stand there, in the sunlit room, in front of piles of laundry, just swaying and existing together. After a while Eddis starts to relax and lower his arms back down but before he can let go Steve let's out a sad little whine.

"No no no no don't stop. Please keep going."

All Eddie can do is give a slight chuckle, readjust his hands, and lift his pregnant mate's belly again.

"Anything for you sweetheart. Maybe i should start exercising so I can do this all the time?"

"You won't hear me complain about that."

Eddie huffs another laugh at that and kisses Steve on the cheek. Steve turns his head more towards his mate, silently asking for a real kiss that Eddie happily gives. While Eddie can't wait to meet their pup he will also gladly spend long moments like this togheter with Steve, existing together and reliving some of the weight from Steve's shoulders.

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Hope you liked it :)

AO3