#and went from there

[finemealprompt]

DP x DC Prompt #44

If anyone asked, Danny would say it was because he was in the right place at the right time. That's how most success stories are, really. Luck. Bad luck, good luck, either way.

He had just so happened to be touring at that specific facility when the aliens began to attack. He hadn't hesitated. He snuck away, transformed, and began to do what he could to save lives. Aliens weren't part of his normal rogue gallery, but he managed.

Then, other heroes appeared. Batman, Superman, Flash, and some heroes he didn't recognize. Danny hadn't even introduced himself before they started fighting together.

In the end, after multiple battles and planning, they won. Somehow, they came out on the other end victorious. Danny had thought that would be the end of his meeting with these heroes.

Until he got invited to a space base and was asked to form a team. A Justice League. How could Danny do anything but accept?

[entityredacted]

On Killing a Cornflower

Or Flower husbands s2 angst

Some things: Poisoning, betrayal, blood, domestic murder

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Scott lay in bed, running his hands slowly through Jimmy's hair. His husband was still asleep next to him, even though it was well past 3pm. Maybe staying up until the early hours of the morning to watch shows together had consequences. Who would have thought.

"Jimmy?" Scott whispered.

"Mhn.."

"It's late, we need to get up."

Jimmy groaned, rolled over and sat up. He blinked several times in the dim light and yawned widely.

"I'll make breakfast," he said. He got up, disappeared out of sight down into the kitchen. Scott followed after a little while.

Scott thought there was something weird about the omelette Jimmy had made, it tasted strange and he couldn't quite put his finger on what was wrong with it.

"Jimmy made it," he thought to himself.

"He probably just put the wrong spices in."

After they were done eating, Scott stood up, but as soon as he did his stomach twisted painfully as if something was stabbing him from inside. He was so distracted by the pain that he didn't notice the way Jimmy was looking at him, it was the same way a lion looks at its dying prey.

The pain got steadily worse and worse until Scott could feel something forcing its way out of his throat. Something that tasted like iron and stained his shirt red as he coughed it up. He felt dizzy and it was hard to stand up, he fell into Jimmy's arms and clung to him. Jimmy didn't try to catch him and didn't wrap his arms around him to support him, he just stood there, staring at Scott. And then it clicked.

Scott clung to Jimmy, feeling his warmth and his heartbeat and his own sticky blood on his shirt.

"W-why?" he croaked, tears staining his face as he felt his stomach twist and force more blood out of his mouth.

"I thought you loved me?"

"I never wanted you, Scott," Jimmy whispered. There was no trace of regret or sorrow in his voice as his husband slowly died, still clinging to the lover that had betrayed him.

"I wanted Chromia. You don't have an heir, so it'll be mine."

"You just- *cough*- used me?"

Jimmy didn't answer but the silence told the painful truth. Scott felt weaker by the second, he couldn't hold on to Jimmy for much longer.

"Jimmy?" he whispered.

"I-if I'm going to die, can I ha-have a last wish?"

"What is it?"

Scott trembled, unable to form words for a moment, then he said:

"Pretend that you love me. One more time, please?"

Jimmy again didn't answer, but he wrapped his arms around Scott and they sunk to the floor together, Jimmy holding Scott and looking down into his eyes, which he was struggling to keep open.

Jimmy silently bent down and placed a kiss on Scott's forehead and that was the last thing Scott could feel before he lost consciousness, falling into a sleep he couldn't wake up from.

[c-bookwyrm]

Most scars are invisible, laced together with painful memories. patched with care, or neglect of acknowledgment. Constance is used to the guessing of her past by strangers- how she must feel about being orphaned, about being 'unable' to speak, about whatever other words are being put into her mouth. The sensation makes her mouth remain shut, knowing well that her voice would rarely be heard.

She's aware of how this impacts those closer to her. Maggie still smiles brightly as she waits for Constance to jot down her next words when her voice fails her, but Constance can see the faint way her eyes dim at realizing today was only a writing day. How Maggie seems put off, in a vague way that she can only catch in glimpses. This would never be voiced, as she feels as though Maggie has the patience of a saint, but it festers in the back of Constance's mind.

Rio has heard her more than Maggie, but not in the same ways. It was born from necessity when she found him, her self-conscious nature hastily put aside as panic for his wellbeing arose. But as time went on, her voice came and went, regardless of how he praised her when he could hear it, or doted on her scribbled handwriting. Days where he prompted her to talk with exaggerated, but supportive greetings and questions being met only with her silence was... difficult for her to watch. There was a strange pressure from him, that she knew was unintentional. One that made her stutter worse at times, due to how overwhelming it was for every action to be praised.

Regardless of how often they would accommodate her, the sensation of dread still overtook her. How much of a relief would it be for them, if only she could talk with ease? To blend in with the rest of the townspeople, or tell those close to her how much she loved them? To be normal?

To combat this, she would spend time in front of her mirror, practicing her speech, practicing what made her nervous to say, repeating syllables she commonly tripped over. Yet time and time again, it would be proven that talking to her reflection rarely could substitute for those eyes of pity. Of annoyance. Of disgust.

The act of becoming Belle terrified her, in this sense. It was enough that the townspeople would handle her, but princes? Other nobles? Her silence was often taken as affirmation, what would happen here?

It turned out that the looks she feared still would follow her here, but not completely. Some... treated her as an equal. Knew sign language- she wouldn't have to burn through so much paper or suffer those awkward silences as she hurriedly wrote, she nearly cried- and when she stuttered, sometimes the look in there eyes would never change.

Speaking. Was still Terrifying, in some regards. But she found more of her voice, slowly, as the days went by.

[misscrazyfangirl321]

nikola and henry, platonic, where henry is a vampire instead of a werewolf?

For so long, he thought he was the last of his kind, the lone survivor of a desperate attack (and the doc has told him the stories a thousand times; he knows what his ancestors did, so long ago. He knows why they were killed, how they enslaved humanity and sought to control the world itself, and he doesn't justify that-he doesn't-but sometimes... Sometimes it would be nice to have someone else like him).

And then Tesla showed up. Tesla.... Isn't a vampire. Not really. He's a human who injected himself with vampire blood. ("Dude, gross," Henry mutters when he learns this.) Half-vampire at best, with a dozen weird electrical abilities on the side. Henry isn't quite sure what to make of him, but he doesn't seem to be leaving any time soon.

It's only when he loses control in battle-when the doc's pulse echoes in his ears, and all he can think is that he's so, so hungry-that things change. Tesla catches him, holding him back with every ounce of strength he possesses, talking him down from the storm.

"This is Helen," Tesla says, and it sounds like he's shouting, but the hunger makes it a distant noise all the same. "Helen Magnus. She raised you. You love her." Henry jerks, and Tesla grunts with the effort of holding him in place. "She's the doc, remember?"

At last, the words lodge in Henry's mind, and the fight drains from him, replaced with an overwhelming shame, and gratitude beyond anything he can say. "I'm okay," he manages, though it's not really true; he's not a threat, he means, and by the way Tesla relaxes, he understands. Still, he doesn't release Henry, just keeps a loose hold on him until the last of the shaking stops.

Later, Henry lays on the couch, his head resting on the doc's legs like he hasn't done since he was a child, as she strokes his hair and whispers assurances. But it's Tesla who brings him food, who keeps quiet watch, who stays close by until Henry is calm.

And between the two of them, Henry has never felt less alone.

[cherryistired]

I just rlly like putting together outfits

[moontidecanvas]

mom and dad 🕊️

[sunfortune]

real

[lee-sol]

🩸 + 🔄 .

concerned rp starters | accepting !!

when working a closing shift, when you’re all alone and vulnerable, the last thing you want to see is a person bloodied behind the shop you work at. but when sol opens the back door to take out the trash for the night, he sees just that. at first, he just sees a shadowy figure slumped against the wall. in his curiosity, he steps closer, only stopping to toss the trash bag into the open bin.

it’s not the smartest thing to do, he could be putting himself in danger, but… he still has to see if this stranger is okay, he doesn’t want to look up the news the next day, and find out someone had died next to the coffee shop, when he could have stepped in and helped.

by now, his eyes mostly have adjusted to the darkness. thanks to that, and the poorly lit streetlights, the figure becomes clearer, more recognizable. and it turns out… the figure is someone he knows. and by the looks of things, she doesn’t look too good. in fact, she looks a bit out of it, it’s hard to say whether or not she even registers his presence. slowly, as not to startle her, he kneels to her level, trying to get a closer look at her. and to say he’s surprised is a complete understatement, he has a lot he wants to ask, but he refrains… for the most part.

“ you don’t look too good, did you get in a fight? ” a sight like this looks all too familiar, he’s seen what the aftermath of a fight looks like plenty of times, and it looks exactly like this. he’s torn right now, there’s a first aid in the back of the shop, he doesn’t want to risk leaving her in this condition, but he doesn’t know if she’ll let him help her in. he finally holds out his hand, hoping that his voice had made her aware enough of his presence to want let him help her.

“ do you need me to call 9-1-1? i don’t need you dying behind the shop and coming back to haunt it. ” the words come out a bit faster this time, the nervousness inside of him growing by the minute. “ if not, i know some basic first aid, and there’s a kit in the back. and then you can tell me how you ended up here in the first place. ”

[shay-creates]

Apparently, my decision to be silly and make fanart of someone's writing (because I genuinely enjoy the story the person is writing and I was struck with inspiration upon reading a particular scene) has benevolent and wildly unforeseen consequences.

I apparently gained a bit of control of the canon because said writer really loved the art and decided what I drew/draw is canon.

2. Writer put said artwork into the document of his story right below the scene, so now it's IN the story where people who read the story will see it (with a link to me)

3. He sent the artwork to all his friends and people he knows because he was so excited

Wholesome interaction and I watched him do all that in real time, good stuff. However...there are two more consequences I was notified of today...nearly a full week after I gave the artwork.

Seeing the artwork caused his friends to become interested in reading and hearing about his story, which means more people are reading what he's writing and giving him critique on the story (which he actively asks for).

Apparently, upon seeing the art, his writer friends got a sudden second wind to pick back up writing they'd abandoned for a few months. Because, I quote, "seeing that someone enjoyed {his} writing enough to take the time to make art of it gave them the motivation that maybe THEY can write something that will inspire someone to also create something." I have accidentally caused a writing frenzy among his writer friends and my silly idea to make art for someone has had a butterfly effect for people who I don't even know.

Uhh...I'm pretty sure there's a moral here but I am tired and have a great deal of emotions about this.

[pseudospectre]

So it turns out you can just buy old x-rays off ebay

[nouverx]

*proceeds to drink the whole bottle*

Yeah Alastor you're gonna be loved and appreciated wether you want it or not :)

[abnerkrill]

i hope everyone knows that the last wga strike was ~100 days and it's a pretty common phenomenon for strike support to tank after a month or two when it feels like it's dragging on and some writers and talk show hosts are crossing picket lines and trying to "return" to "normal" because of people's livelihoods etc when they're really just scabs. sure hope that we keep that in mind and are prepared for the long haul and aren't just in it while it's convenient for us <3

[chloesimaginationthings]

Glitchtrap has one more FNAF task for Vanessa..

[trashmakerarticle]

Everyone thinks that dick was the golden child when in reality it was Jason.

Clark: Bruce who was your favourite robin?

Dick: obviously it’s me?

Tim: it’s dick

Damian: I am superior robin, it will be me.

Bruce: it’s Jason

Everyone: WHAT?!?!???

Bruce: why are you so surprised? He didn’t jump on too my chandeliers which I had to replace each week

*everyone looks at dick*

Bruce: he didn’t drop out of school

*everyone looks at tim*

Bruce: I didn’t have to stop him from killing everyone who annoyed him

*everyone looks at Damian*

Bruce: in fact, he enjoyed school and handed all his homework in on time, we would spend hours in the library reading his favourite classics. He even helped Alfred with most of the cooking, He was my little boy

Jason: stop spreading lies, I hate you go away

Bruce: my precious little boy

[egophiliac]

queen of diamonds, upright + reversed 💎

I've redone this like eighty times, I have to just be done with it now and stop staring at all my mistakes oh no 🫠

[zzoupz]

"Cecil would want Sans to win" "Sans would want Cecil to win" you fools. you buffoons. Cecil would want his husband Carlos to win