#time saving prompts

[tempo-takoyaki]

Here is my last prompt for SVSSSAction's Gotcha For Gaza from an anonymous donor! They asked for some freeform Bingyuan, and I imagined this little scene. Chocolate is good~

[stealingyourbones]

Danny’s clockwork emblem gets damaged and causes him to glitch and slip through time (think Loki tv show Time Slipping or Into the Spider-Verse glitching). Lucky for him it’s not too random, his sporadic time jumps and flickering in and out of reality is centered on this vaguely familiar superhero he remembered Clockwork mentioning and he doesn’t quite know why.

[emacrow]

The baby god.

The world was in panic as Justice League couldn't do anything, a glowing green metorite ball the size of Neptune was heading directly toward Earth.

The green lantern corps couldn't do anything to move the direction of the metorite, Superman couldn't even get near without feeling faint, believing that there was kyptonite on the metorite stopping him.

Not even John could make any deal that involved that metorite at all.

Many city panic, started fighting, crying, and broken down. Many religious groups accept their fate.

Gotham City refused to go out quietly as everyone was throwing a simultaneous party. Even the villains went all out, even Joker didn't cause harm to anyone, much less made a joke at all..

Joker tremblingly held a very old playing joker card that Batman had since their first fight years ago while his eyes, one still black from earlier look to the last live being recorded with Batman's voice speaking on the live, He stayed along side in gotham even when end of the world was here.

Clark Kent stayed with his ma and pa house, lois Lane, holding her hands.

The world stood still as the seemingly the end was close by.

Only for the glowing green metorite was rapidly slowing down, nearly the same length by as the moon even if it was gigantic in comparison.

A gargantuan hands seen to have grasped it, the hands itself were covered in stars and dust as a loudest chirp could be heard around the earth.

Bright bluish green eyes the size of the sun slowly blink with curious, a gigantic toddler the twice size of Jupiter, a chubby face covered in dwarfs star made freckles, a glowing green necklace that held the tiny dwarf pluto, hair the covered Most of the darkness that was the night sky like strains clouds made from the heaven themselves.

A massive deep blue puff escaped the gargantuan being's mouth, raining down all over the earth, where tiny pure crystalized ice was the size of a baby pearl that never melted.

Everyone who was watching the live or was watching outside could see the being clearly.

The metorite threatened to end all life on earth as they knew it was stopped by a god.

The god slowly turned, the bright white hair swaying star dust everywhere in the sky as they were turning to someone and floated away, the joyous young laughter of a toddler echoing on earth.

[deadsetobsessions]

Edit: Holy moly, just checked the notes and the argument is not it, at all. Please do not bring that energy (and name calling) to my posts.

DCxDP Prompt.

Danny knew a lot of immortals and near immortals. Not that he knew, of course, because other than the time traveling nonsense, he always stayed in Amity. He saved a lot of said immortals too.

Three months after he moved to Gotham, a bunch of assassins were trying to wreak havoc on the city. Danny flew around to help his new friend, Red Robin. When he landed on the roof top where Tim was facing down the Demon’s Head, neither of them expected the Demon’s Head to stop his attacks and blurt out a surprised, “Danyal?”

Tim, instantly on guard, asked, “How do you know Danny, Ra’s?”

Danny straightened. “Oh my Ancients. You’re the bratty kid with the stick! Ra’s al Ghul!”

“I can not believe I owe someone like you a life debt.”

[fangirlingpuggle]

Silly SVSSS AU/fic prompt with time travel only it's Meng Mo who is thrown back in time.

He is trying to destroy system because HE CAN NOT GO THROUGH THAT SHIT AGAIN! He will not deal whit the pining and angst of the abyss.

Meng Mo also gate crashing Shen Qingqiu dreams like 'HE LOVES YOU MORON! HE IS NOT GOING TO KILL YOU!'

He is going to speed run these 2 dumb asses getting together so he can get some peace and quite. He's gonna ask as a new body of recompense and then fuck off and leave these 2 hopeless disasters to themselves. He's dealt with this for 2 lifetimes he deserves a vacation!

[mischievous-thunder]

Wade telling his family how he found his pretty kitty cat:

[sariphantom]

I bet Leo's telling one of his dumb fish jokes to Nemo over here 🤣

[stiltonbasket]

What is your flavor of "accidental sugar daddy SY"?

ao3 link

When Shen Yuan first transmigrated into the world of Proud Immortal Demon Way some thirty years earlier, he knew nothing about the strange universe he had landed in.

He had heard about the novel before, albeit in no great detail. Shen Yuan watched it climb to the top of Zhongdian’s ranking page while he was busy catching up on A Chronicle of Primordial Wars: but he never bothered to read it, or join the fan forums—a decision he regretted immensely when he opened his eyes, a newborn again, and found the System’s welcome screen flashing over his head.

What was the premise of the plot? Where in the timeline was he? What was the main character’s name? What was his name?

Who knew? Not Shen Yuan! He could guess that the novel’s protagonist was some kind of demon, given the title: but in spite of his pleas to learn more about the story, the System was completely uninterested in enlightening him. According to his task list, Shen Yuan’s only mission—if it could be called a mission—was to educate himself about the world: and after it was assigned to him, the System disappeared.

It wasn’t a bad transmigration experience, so far as such things went. Shen Yuan was reborn as the only son of a wealthy merchant family with few members, and consequently more lands and money than it knew what to do with. He was indulged in all ways; his parents bought him every bestiary and cultivation manual they could get their hands on, and then hired a cultivation tutor after a passing daoshi examined him and exclaimed at Shen Yuan’s cultivation potential. His parents would not allow him to seek admission at one of the four great sects, since they had no second son to take over their jewelry business; but they did not object to him learning how to cultivate at home.

Shen Yuan’s life was as close to perfect as could be, until his parents were killed in a bandit raid two months before his eighteenth birthday.

The less said of that year the better, he thought.

When the funeral was over, Shen Yuan left the Shen estate in the hands of his father’s steward and spent the next months wandering the countryside as a rogue cultivator. After all, there was nothing left for him at the manor: and since that was the case, he might as well make himself useful elsewhere.

On the first anniversary of his parents’ deaths, he stumbled on a group of slavers hunting in the streets of Jinlan: and in that moment, Shen Yuan decided that he had found his life’s purpose.

The Shen-fu was far too grand for a household of one, anyway.

___

“A sponsorship for orphaned cultivators?”

Shen Yuan takes a sip of tea and eyes the Cang Qiong cultivator before him with some interest. 

In the years since he dissolved the slavers’ gang in Jinlan, the Shen-fu has transformed from a tasteful merchant’s estate to a crowded academy for cultivation hopefuls and children from all corners of the country—most of whom had been slaves or street-children, like the first band of ducklings Shen Yuan brought back to the manor when he was eighteen. Others came to stay at the Shen-fu because they were orphaned, or because their families could not afford to educate them; but whatever their origins, Shen Yuan’s pupils are well-loved and well-tended, and attend to their studies with such diligence that the great sects would be lucky to have any one of them. 

Shen Yuan himself has become a figure of some renown, by virtue of having taught several young disciples who distinguished themselves at Cang Qiong and Zhao Hua: and as a result of his success with his eldest students, the Shen-fu is among the estates being courted by the spokesmen of An Ding Peak’s new patronage program.

“Peak Lord Shang said you would be interested, Shen-daye,” his guest says earnestly. “In theory, cultivation sects provide for their disciples regardless of background, and reliance on family wealth is strongly discouraged—but in truth, it is difficult for disciples without family to find a place among their shixiongdi. Well-to-do households send money to pay for better materials and trips into town; and even if the children are willing to share treats among themselves, things often become awkward when the poorer disciples have nothing to give in return.

“And of course there are visiting days, when disciples without kin must remain at the sect while their classmates go to see their parents. Put together, all this can be hard to bear.”

“Say no more. This master understands,” Shen Yuan sighs. “Children without protectors are easy to bully. Such things rarely happen at my estate, for nearly all of my charges are poor, but at a great sect like Cang Qiong…”

The cultivator nods. “Exactly.”

Shen Yuan leans forward and replenishes the man’s cup of tea. “What would my part in this venture be, then?”

“That would depend on Shen-daye. Some of the patrons will send a fixed sum of money a few times a year, and others prefer to send supplies and invitations to dine on New Year—but it is possible for the patron and disciple to become adopted kin, of a kind. The disciple would receive coin and gifts and such; but they would also have a have a place at the patron’s home thereafter, and be considered the patron’s ward until one party wishes to end the agreement.”

Shen Yuan thinks for a moment.

“It would be no hardship for me to take the last option,” he says at length. “My estate is large, and the family business is doing well. Another child would hardly be a burden.”

“That is—most good of you,” the cultivator says, startled. “Shall we give you time to make arrangements, or…?”

“No need. I will set up a room by the next visiting day; but for now, I’ll give you a package to take back with you.”

“This one understands. Would Shen-daye like to see the list of children, so that he might choose which one to support?”

“I suppose I might as well.”

The cultivator reaches into his sleeve and pulls out a bamboo scroll. 

“Here,” he says, handing it to Shen Yuan. “It lists the disciples’ ages and the peak they belong to, as well as the name of the shifu above them.”

Shen Yuan unrolls the scroll and runs a finger down the first column of names. Most of the disciples listed on the right side of the scroll are girls under Peak Lord Shang or Xian Shu’s Qi Qingqi, with some apprenticed to Mu-fengzhu of Qian Cao or to one of two senior cultivators on Bai Zhan; and the boys are listed on the left, with a greater number coming from Ku Xing and Mo Shou. 

However, none of Shen Qingqiu’s former disciples appear on the list in spite of being orphaned—though this only surprises him for a moment, for he soon recalls that he asked them to name him as their next of kin upon arriving at Cang Qiong.

As he continues reading down the list of names, Shen Yuan realizes that two peaks are notably absent: Qiong Ding, which did not put forth a single name; and Qing Jing, whose title precedes the lone name of Luo Binghe, a fourteen-year-old boy studying under Shen Qingqiu.

Shen Yuan’s stomach twists in sympathy. Even he has heard of Shen Qingqiu: for the chief strategist of Cang Qiong Mountain is far better-known for his fondness for cruelty than his achievements as a tactician, and if this poor child is apprenticed to him…

“I’ve decided,” he says aloud. “You may put my name down under Luo Binghe, of Qing Jing Peak.”

His guest nods and makes a note on one of his papers. “And how would Shen-daye like to support him?”

“I’ll send packages once a month with letters to accompany them, unless—ah. Is once a month too often?”

“It is more often than most disciples usually hear from their parents,” the cultivator ventures. “But Shen-daye may write as often as he pleases.”

“That’s good, then. Let Disciple Luo know that he can write to me in turn,” Shen Yuan says, “and as far as visitation goes—tell him that he will be welcome at the Shen-fu for as long as I am the master of it.”

After this exchange, Shen Yuan is presented with a sheaf of papers to sign, all stamped with the seal of An Ding peak; and then he summons one of the servants and orders luncheon for his guest.

“If Daozhang would wait for a little while,” he entreats, rising from his chair, “this master must collect the things for the parcel and write a letter explaining matters to Disciple Luo. I should be finished by the time daozhang has eaten.”

He rustles out of the room without waiting for a reply, leaving two little manservants—the chief housekeeper’s twin sons, who do chores about the house after lessons in exchange for pocket money—to wait on Daozhang Wu.

“Now for the storeroom,” Shen Yuan sighs to himself, rubbing at his temples. “I hope I’ll find something to fit him.”

This is a question of some concern, for the Shen-fu has not hosted a male disciple above thirteen in the last decade. Knowing children as Shen Yuan does now, all that can be certain of any boy of fourteen is that he must be growing like a weed; and with that thought in mind, he makes his way to the storage compound and asks for a few boys’ clothes in the largest size.

“These might not be large enough. The boy is nearly grown,” the steward says doubtfully, as Shen Yuan examines a set of sturdy day robes. “Wang Yufan was the tallest boy we ever had, and he left the manor when he was twelve.”

“You’re right,” sighs Shen Yuan. “For now, fetch the longest robes we have. I’ll pack a few of my own in case the disciples’ clothes don’t fit him.”

But there will be money, too. Not a great deal, but more than enough to buy a few sets of robes from a tailor near Cang Qiong; so Shen Yuan gathers a box of thick-sewn clothes from the storeroom before adding a selection of never-worn garments from his own wardrobe. He takes the box to the hall of spiritual tools next, and then to the kitchen: and when the box is full, he writes a letter to his new charge and seals it before returning to the receiving room.

“Thanking daozhang for his patience,” he says, somewhat flustered. “The package took longer to assemble than this master expected.”

“No matter,” Wu-daozhang replies. He is sitting in Shen Yuan’s best armchair with the housekeeper’s boys on either side of him; for the three of them are half-way through a game of weiqi, which Wu-daozhang appears to be losing on purpose.

Shen Yuan’s mouth twitches. “Wu-daozhang has been well tended to in my absence, it seems.”

“Well-tended indeed,” his guest says, laughing. “From what this one has seen so far, Shen-daye, your disciples are a great credit to you.”

He frees himself from the chair with some difficulty, since Hua Ruoman’s sons are clinging to his coat and pleading with him not to go; but Shen Yuan chivvies the boys down the hall to their qin lesson before handing over Luo Binghe’s care package.

“Remind Disciple Luo that this master is awaiting his reply,” he says anxiously, as Wu-daozhang prepares to depart from the gates of the Shen-fu. “There are clothes in the parcel, but I did not know his size—so if they do not fit him, he should write back with a set of measurements or take some of the money I sent to change the clothes for better ones. And tell him that he should open the box as soon as he can; I packed some food in a reinforced shihe, and it should keep for the next fortnight—but the snacks will taste best if he eats them right away.”

A bewildered look comes over Wu-daozhang’s face. “Shen-daye—”

“He might try to ration the snacks, since most cultivation sects serve only simple food,” Shen Yuan entreats, wringing his hands. “Tell him that he must not worry about saving them. If he wants more, he need only ask, and this master will send another package. Children need treats now and then to help them concentrate on their studies.”

“Ah, Shen-daye, that isn’t really…”

“And the books—! I should have mentioned it in the letter. Listen, daozhang—this teacher has a tab for former students at the bookseller nearest Cang Qiong; so if Disciple Luo requires any texts for his own use, he should go down the mountain and buy what he wants. Ku Xing’s Wang Yufan can show him how. And—”

“Surely all this must be enough for the first month,” Wu-daozhang protests, backing away. “Thank you very much for your kindness, Shen-daye; but now this one really must be off, or I will be late back to An Ding.”

And then—without another word—he jumps onto his sword and flies off.

Presently, a small hand tugs at Shen Yuan’s sleeve.

“What was all that about, shifu?” says a little voice at his elbow. “What did that daozhang want?”

Shen Yuan stoops and lifts Hua Yun into his arms. “He was bringing a new shixiong for you and Cao’er,” he smiles. “He is to be this teacher’s ward; and if all goes well, we might get to meet him sometime in the next year.”

“A new shixiong?” Hua Cao squeals. 

“En, just like your Yufan-shixiong and the rest of the big brothers.”

“What’s his name?”

“He is called Luo Binghe, and he is a disciple at Cang Qiong Mountain—where Yufan and your Feng’er-jie are studying, remember? When he comes to visit us, you and Yun’er must call him Luo-shixiong.”

With that, Shen Yuan closes the gate and takes the children’s hands; and as they walk back to the house, he realizes that he seems to have heard the name Luo Binghe somewhere before.

___

Dated: Taoyue 8

To Disciple Luo Binghe of Qing Jing Peak; Cang Qiong Mountain Sect, care of Wu Shaojiang

Luo-gongzi,

I do not know if your shixiongs and shishu on An Ding have explained matters to you; but in case they have not, this master is the patron assigned to you through An Ding Peak’s sponsorship scheme. I am called Shen Yuan, and am a cultivator nearly one-and-thirty years of age. I am writing from Shuizhai, a little country town on the western outskirts of Luoyang, where I run a cultivation academy for children between the ages of three and thirteen. Five of my former disciples are your shixiongjie at Cang Qiong, and Binghe should seek them out if he is ever in need. (I have written their names and peaks on the back of this page, so you will know whom to look for.)

The courier who offered me the chance to become your sponsor is waiting in the hall, so I will keep this letter brief. From now on, you are to have full rights as a member of the Shen estate; you may visit whenever you like, as my grown disciples do, and there will always be a place for you under my roof. This master will send you packages every now and then, as I do for your elder disciple-siblings; but since I do not know your tastes, I fear that Binghe will find this first parcel somewhat lacking. I put in a few clothes, since I know how quickly you disciples go through them, and a little coin so that you can buy replacements if the garments I sent do not fit. There is also a meal-box, and a few tools you may find useful in the absence of a good spiritual sword (which, if I am correct, you will not receive until your third or fourth year of study).  Lastly, I packed a couple of books for Binghe to keep: though these will likely be no great help to you, since I hear your Qing Jing is home to the finest library at Cang Qiong.

If anything is unsatisfactory, Binghe should tell this master so at once; but either way, you must write back with a proper introduction, so that your new shidimei and I can become acquainted with you. You see, there are more than forty of them, some nearly as old as you and some barely bigger than babies in arms; and once the children hear that they have another shixiong, they will not let this old teacher rest until I can tell them something about you!

Yours,

Shen Yuan.

[puppetmaster13u]

Prompt in Memes 5

Once more, have a prompt entirely in memes because I'm too lazy to properly write one right now lol.

[shanastoryteller]

Happy Fall Season 🍁🍂🌻 !!! I’d love to see your take on a Merlin role reversal! 🥰

Hunith had never wanted to be queen, but once she gave birth to Balinor's son, there wasn't much choice in it.

Balinor sits as king, the lord of the dragon lords, and Merlin will one day inherit his title. She was just a village girl and the dirty traveling soldier had a nice smile and kind eyes so she'd lain with him.

If she'd known that he was king, she would not have presumed.

~

Merlin is strolling down the street, arguing with Will, when he trips over his own feet, knocks into a fruit stands, sends all the apples sprawling across the ground, and takes another step directly onto one of those apples only to end face first into a stone wall. "Ow."

The stone wall moves, which isn't unheard of in their kingdom, but then it talks, which is new. "Oh the Goddess above."

Hands settle on his shoulders, pushing him back and he looks up dazed to see that the stone wall is actually a blonde man with the brightest blue eyes he's ever seen. He's got broad shoulders and a chest firm enough that Merlin thinks his nose might be broke and Goddess above is right.

He's looking over Merlin's shoulder. "Are you going to clean this up?"

He turns, seeing the irate stall owner and the apples that are fucking everywhere as well as Will laughing his ass off and being no help whatsoever. "Oh, no! I'm sorry, let me just-"

Merlin holds out his hands, trying to remember the correct education, but the stall owner goes pale and starts waving his hands. "No, no, it's okay, please don't-"

The man smacks his hand down and grabs the back of his neck, giving him a rough shake as if he were a misbehaving kitten. "You a precision caster? Otherwise, knock it off. You're more likely to explode them then gather them that way."

He's sort of the exact opposite of a precision caster. He lets the spell go and sees the way the stall owner sighs in relief. "Oh. Right."

~

The man's name is Arthur, he's one of the peasants that have been recruited into being a solider in the war against Camelot, and he's here at the palace to receive the standard training along with the rest of the would be soldiers.

His father won't let him on the battlefield, even though that's where his magic is best, and he can't help but feel vaguely guilty that Arthur's been pulled from his family to fight in a war that Merlin thinks would end a hell of a lot faster if his father wasn't so protective.

It's that guilt that has Merlin forgoing his place at the high table with his mother to wander down to the lower tables at dinner that night to try and thank Arthur for helping him clean up all the apples, something he hadn't been able to do before Will was dragging him away.

He's not expecting it when one of the soldiers leaps to their feet and pulls out a dagger on him, one that has to be cursed against enchantments because none of the spells to pull it form his hands that several people at the high table cast do any good at all.

Merlin's just feeling the bite of it into his throat, frantically trying to think of a spell to get him out of this, when a carving knife goes whizzing past his face and embeds itself into his assailant's skull.

Merlin jumps away, shaking, to see Arthur standing there and cool and unbothered, hand outstretched as if he's about to cast a spell. But he's not, it's like that because he'd grabbed the knife from the venison on the table and killed that man before he could kill Merlin.

"You just make friends wherever you go, don't you?" Arthur asks.

Then everyone's moving forward, pulling him away, and Arthur along with him. His expression turns murderous, like he's wishing he had another knife as he's manhandled across the room.

His mother pat his face and clucks at his neck and then thanks Arthur for saving her son.

Arthur had bowed at Hunith but then frozen. He's looking at Merlin with dismay, which isn't exactly new for him but he's not sure why he's getting that look from Arthur now of all times. "You're Prince Merlin? You?"

"Uh," he says, then shrugs helplessly. "Yes?"

He really doesn't think Arthur's opinion of him is improved when Hunith assigns him to be Merlin's personal servant. It should be a reprieve, getting to work in the palace rather than the battlefield, but the tight look on Arthur's face doesn't ease.

[tempo-takoyaki]

Here is my fourth prompt for SVSSSAction and donated by @starry-stan-blog! Drawing this TianJiu prompt was super fun, thank you again for your donation (^^)/

[named-anon]

Prompt/request... Commander Cody, please? :)

10-minute fill

Commander Cody

[emacrow]

The civilization trapped in an ice meteorite.

Superman, after saving the earth from another earth ending bomb, breeze through space, were glowing clouds of gas and dust known as a planetary nebula floated around aimlessly with glowing green dwarf particles as if a solar system was sucked into, but there only lays a sun and 7 planets here before before something caught his eye.

A pusling aimlessly floating ball like metorite full of frozen white ice with green dipped in the bottom in the middle of space. The pulsing glow flickers like a couple of very slow heartbeats.

Superman used his x ray vision to see inside, and what he saw immediately immediately griped the ice and speed flew over through back to the Watchtower which was not far from here.

Superman spoke in the coms of his oxygen mask to the Watchtower.

"Open the space entrance gates, and someone calls in Beatriz Da Costa. I found a floating town trapped in metorite ice with what seems civilians' insides." Superman spoke in the coms as he pushed the metorite carefully toward the watchtower, unaware of the gigantic glowing transparent being with 8 neon green eyes staring at him wrapped around the ice metorite like a Serpent to it's eggs.

[fireflysugarpie]

need to get this idea out about Shang Qinghua being an actual god/deity lmao

okay, so we all know that Shen Qingqiu's system has Luo Binghe as its power source and shut down when he was in another dimension right?

and that Shang Qinghua transmigrated before Luo Binghe's parents even met each other, but his system was still active, albeit less so because it was before the plot and he was a side character.

what if Shang Qinghua's system used him as a power source to run not just itself, but the entire world of SVSSS/PIDW?

I mean, the guy was transmigrated as a baby, and he's had a lot of time to butterfly effect things in ways he probably didn't even try. and since the System's main goal seems to be fixing/improving the core story for the audience's entertainment, it potbelly had to nudge a lot of stuff back into place to ensure the core plot was still recognizable.

it would make sense as to why Shang Qinghua's system was a lot more emotionless, infrequent, and stingy with points than Shen Qingqiu's system and why it was more restrictive in certain ways with Shang Qinghua.

it could be a cool concept that as the happy ending was reached and the System stepped back, Shang Qinghua slowly got more control over his world and storyline. he proudly wouldn't even notice at first, with all of the work and information he has to deal with in both realms. it would start off small with him just knowing certain things about the quality of goods a merchant was trying to sell his King, thinking he read it somewhere in his mountain of paperwork. then it could escalate into 'remembering' specific details about the lives and dynamics of side characters' families and relationships that he doesn't actually remember writing down, but obviously he must have of he knows that the 3rd sister of the Hé family hates tanghulu because she chocked on one as a child. And then that would snowball into him actually having prophetic abilities and the power to alter fate.

it would also be pretty interesting if the world itself obviously favored him, like flowers moving to face him if he meditated in the same spot for a few hours, birds and other wildlife generally being friendly or non hostile, the wind carrying his humming to the ears of those who are down in their luck, ancient and extremely rare treasures and artifacts really wanting him as their wielder, other divine or mythical beings that are able to tell something is off about Shang Qinghua but can't tell what because of the System, and other people not noticing him because he really really doesn't want them to.

just, Deity Shang Qinghua that doesn't know that he's a deity lol

[that-one-weird-cloud0]

Batman: You need a new costume. That one provides no protection.

Danny: oh I cant.

Batman: You won’t owe me for it.

Danny: no I literally cant. Like if i remove it it just returns.

Batman:………. Explain.

Danny: look *takes off glove and explodes it into pieces*

*glove reforms on his hand*

Danny: see? Can’t get rid of it. It’ll just heal itself.

Batfam: …