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piscespixiewastaken · 17 days
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Sixteenth Day Event Prompt:
Dream & Ponk - Rabbit
@sixteenth-day-event
(Did I totally misread the prompt and have to reword the fic to make it work? No, totally didn’t, no idea what you’re talking about)
(Also, thank you to @simplepotatofarmer for inserting rabbit!Dream in my head. May have accidentally stolen an idea from their Rabbit Run fic. If you haven’t yet, go read Rabbit Run, it’s very good! Can’t stop thinking of c!dream as prey hybrid types now.)
Sixteenth Day Event:
Dream & Ponk - Rabbit
Ponk finds an injured Dream in the woods by his house after a prison break. He’s not one to leave an injured man to die.
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“So, I’m not the only one Sam decided to fuck with,” Ponk muttered.
The masked rabbit hybrid in front of him shrugged. He stared down at the hand Ponk was wrapping with bandages. He sat on the kitchen chair stiff and uncomfortable. There were more bandages wrapped around his torso and limbs under his trousers. His rabbit ears were heavily bandaged, which wasn’t helping his already damaged hearing. His right foot was missing, a rudimentary prosthetic attached to the stump of his lower leg. Ponk didn’t want to consider the implications of a rabbit hybrid losing a foot. Especially when he knew Dream could shapeshift.
“Seriously, what the hell did he do to you in there?”
Another shrug. Ponk sighed.
“Dream, you’re going to have to talk to me at some point. I can only help with so much if I’m guessing what hurts and what might be infected. You’re lucky to be moving while missing a foot like that,” he chided.
Dream’s ears wilted as he hunched his shoulders in response, as if trying to curl in on himself despite the fabric wrapped around his body. Ponk’s eyes softened.
“Just take your time, okay? I’m not turning you back over to Sam anytime soon.”
“What about the others?” a hoarse voice coughed out of Dream’s throat. “Would you turn me over to them?”
Ponk sighed. He’d been doing that a lot lately. When had the server become like this? His best friend taking his arm over a couple of tokens. That same person torturing their former friend. The Egg corrupting the others and driving them to hurt and kill on a whim. When had it all gone so wrong?
“No, I won’t be. I’m not a snitch, Dream. Have a little faith that I have some sort of conscience after all this,” he huffed, letting out a small, humorless chuckle.
Dream turned away. As much as Ponk would have liked to see Dream’s face, see the expressions he was making… he understood Dream’s desire for privacy. It seemed to have been ripped from him in prison.
The tension building in the room caused Ponk to switch subjects.
“Why did Sam… why did he torture you? Was it supposed to be a punishment?” he winced at the words leaving his mouth. But he also couldn’t help his curiosity. His need to relate to someone who had suffered abuse at the hands of the same person.
Dream flinched. Ponk bit his lip to keep down the concerned reassurance that tried to leap from his throat. Dream wouldn’t want that, not right now.
“It… Sam didn’t lift a finger. Not really. He just… he just condoned it,” Dream mumbled. His voice was so quiet Ponk almost didn’t hear him.
“What? He let… he let someone else torture you? In his prison?” Ponk couldn’t keep the incredulous tone from his voice.
Dream nodded.
Ponk swallowed. He could see Sam torturing someone. Hell, he counted what he went through as torture, and that only lasted a day at most. But to hand someone else the tools and sit back and watch…. That was almost worse.
Just who on the server would feel comfortable to get close enough to Dream of all people to torture him?
“Wh—?”
“It was Q-Quackity,” Dream said, voice breaking ever so slightly on the other’s name.
Ponk frowned. He didn’t know Quackity particularly well. He had seen the other when they had gone to the vault to detain Dream. But otherwise, they barely interacted. The younger man must be power hungry then, enough to try and take something from a man already locked up and unable to touch anyone.
“Huh.” It was all Ponk could think to respond.
There another long silence. The air felt thicker and stuffier by the minute, and Ponk debated opening a window before deciding against it. It would cause Dream to panic more, and Ponk had barely managed to get the young rabbit hybrid to his house after finding him bleeding out in the woods.
Ponk turned back to the masked hybrid to finish off the last bandage. His frown deepened as a line of blood dripped from Dream’s chin.
“Dream, is your head bleeding?”
Dream flinched, before reaching up and dabbing the skin under his mask. His fingers came away red with blood. Ponk watched as the young man’s chest stuttered, his lungs not quite working properly as he began hyperventilating.
Ponk took his hand and held it firmly but gently, rubbing circles on bandaged knuckles.
“I need you to breathe, Dream. It’s all right. You’re okay. I can treat the injury if you take your mask off. Can you do that for me?”
Dream went still, ears flattening against his head. His hands clenching and unclenching repeatedly. He shook his head. Ponk’s eyes softened.
“I promise no one will hurt you, Dream. I just want to make sure it’s not infected, okay?”
Dream was quiet again. For a good moment, Ponk thought he would have to leave the wound alone and pray it wouldn’t become infected.
And then Dream slowly raised his hand to the white disc that sat on his face. He undid the strap and lowered it.
The face that stared down at the ground was covered in scars and burns. As if a hot knife had been dragged across his cheeks. His little nose was inflamed and torn. His whiskers were almost shaved, which couldn’t possibly be good for his stability. There was even a small “Q” dug into the jawline. No part of Dream’s body had been spared the torture then.
Ponk was glad his own face was covered, but he knew his eyes would betray his horror. He quickly composed himself and got to work on the gash in Dream’s forehead, newly opened from whatever activity Dream had done after escaping the Vault. The young man stayed quiet, despite flinching at how close Ponk got. His dull, green eyes never left Ponk’s hands as he worked, and his ears were still pinned against his head.
“Why are you helping me?” The question was unprompted, maybe to deal with the unsettling silence that had fallen over the two of them.
Ponk sat back for a moment. “Because you used to be my friend, Dream. And you’re injured. I don’t actually enjoy seeing people suffer.”
Dream scoffed but remained silent.
Ponk placed the last plaster on Dream’s skin and stood from where he’d crouched beside the other. He stretched his arms over his head.
“Well, that should be everything. You can stay here for the night, and I would highly recommend you do so. I don’t want you to tear open any stitches,” he said, gesturing to a nearby pullout couch.
Dream shook his head. “I… I have somewhere to go. Thank you, though. I appreciate it.”
Ponk wished he were more surprised by the sincerity in that remark. It would have hurt less to hear than the gratitude oozing out of Dream’s voice, how his ears perked up just a little at Ponk’s offer. As if Dream thought he should have died out there alone and afraid.
“Of course, Dream. My door is open if you need anything, all right? And I promise, I won’t tell anyone.”
Dream nodded, strapping his mask back on.
“Thank you,” he mumbled as he pulled his hoodie back on and donned his armor.
He stood from his chair and almost immediately stumbled, catching himself before Ponk could react. He waved Ponk off and grunted as he stepped towards the door. It swung open with a push, and Dream peered out for a moment, glancing at the surroundings. And turning back to Ponk one last time, he nodded his thanks.
And then he was off again, hobbling down the path to the woods nearby.
Ponk stared out the open door to starlit sky above. He sighed, closed the door, and moved to clean the table of bandage rolls and dots of blood. A deep sorrow built up inside him as he thought of the dull eyes of a man he had considered a close friend. And of the maniacal look on their abuser’s face when he’d taken Ponk’s arm. One he probably had when Quackity had taken Dream’s foot.
When had it all gone so wrong?
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(You thought, oh cute fic prompt, maybe fluff? No, you get angst instead. No comfort, only hurt).
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sylvies-kablooie · 4 months
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i do unironically think the best artists of our generation are posting to get 20 notes and 3 reblogs btw. that fanfic with like 45 kudos is some of the best stuff ever written. those OCs you carry around have some of the richest backstories and worldbuilding someone has ever seen. please do not think that reaching only a few people when you post means your art isn't worth celebrating.
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unforth · 11 months
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Gentle reminder that very little fandom labor is automated, because I think people forget that a lot.
That blog with a tagging system you love? A person curates those tags by hand.
That rec blog with a great organization scheme and pretty graphics? Someone designed and implemented that organization scheme and made those graphics.
That network that posts a cool variety of stuff? People track down all that variety and queue it by hand, and other people made all the individual pieces.
That post with umpteen links to helpful resources, and information about them? Someone gathered those links, researched the sources, wrote up the information about them.
That graphic about fandom statistics? Someone compiled those statistics, analyzed them, organized them, figured out a useful way to convey the information to others, and made the post.
That event that you think looks neat? Someone wrote the rules, created the blogs and Discords, designed the graphics, did their best to promo the event so it'd succeed.
None of this was done automatically. None of it just appears whole out of the internet ether.
I think everyone realizes that fic writing and fanart creation are work, and at least some folks have got it through their heads that gif creation and graphics and moodboards take effort, and meta is usually respected for the effort that goes into it, at least as far as I've seen, but I feel like a lot of people don't really get how much labor goes into curation, too.
If people are creating resources, curating content, organizing the creations of others, gathering information, and doing other fandom activities that aren't necessarily the direct action of creation, they're doing a lot of fandom labor, and it's often largely unrecognized.
Celebrate fan work!
To folks doing this kind of labor: I see you, and I thank you. You are the backbones of our fandoms and I love you.
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charlietheepicwriter7 · 4 months
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The Joker was apprehended, sitting on the ground as Batman guarded him, but the kid--"Bruce Wayne's newest ward, how tragic! Hehehe!"--was nowhere to be found. Nightwing and Red Hood desperate searched the warehouse until a shuffling noise grabbed their attention.
A kid, black haired just like the kid in the Joker's broadcast, crawling out of a pile of boxes. "Is it over?" the boy asked quietly.
Nightwing guided him to the only exit, unfortunately walking past the boy's own kidnapper. "Yeah, kid. It's over. Come on-"
Like a shot, the boy rushed the Joker and kicked him right in the balls.
The Joker wheezed like a dying squeaky toy. Red Hood froze. Nightwing immediately snatched the boy up by the armpits, but all that did was give the boy the height to attack again, punting Joker in the jaw. The clown went down and cracked his head on the floor. He did not get back up.
There was a moment of silence before Red Hood roared with laughter, his helmet distorting the sound.
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Danny was enjoying himself. His new haunt was suprisingly spacious and came with lots of charges who needed protection and care.
The old butler guy, Alfred, seemed to at least have an idea of what was going on. He had been making extra food lately and leaving it out for Danny to eat in a secluded area. Danny always made sure to turn the plate invisible and sneak it back to his hidden passage panic room before he started eating.
In return, Danny made sure to do lots of chores around the manor. Intangibility and wind manipulation made dusting super easy if you knew how to use it right.
Danny also took his job as a guardian spirit seriously. He overheard the bats fighting about not wanting to be coddled on patrol and decided it was best to let them handle themselves outside of the manor. Danny himself hated when people stuck thier noses into his business.
Jazz had screwed him over countless times with her good intentions.
But the manor was different. This was his new haunt after his old one kicked him out. This family had invited him in whether they knew it or not. Also, since the Fentons and GIW don't exist in this world, they'd have a hell of a time kicking him out.
It's best not to let it come to that. So Danny had to make these people love him the way Amity Park never did.
The Wayne's however are rather dense. You would think them being the worlds greatest detectives would mean something, but they kept silently blaming each other for things happening around the manor until they couldn't.
A book being put away when they were done with it or their messes being cleaned up when they came back into a room could be easily explained by how many people lived there. The family entering the dining room, discussing what they were going to order for dinner since Alfred was gone for a week only to find a full meal waiting for them on the diner table? They couldn't brush that off.
None of them could cook.
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nerdpoe · 5 months
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Lucius Fox is in the drive thru for some coffee, and like. He's just. He's had a time, okay?
He's stuck on some equations in regard to the amount of torsion a joint would go through if it's half in his dimension and half in another, and it's driving him up a wall.
He's been up for like forty-eight hours, he's tired, he's thirsty, he just wants a coffee, and also how to solve this dilemma.
He doesn't expect the barista in the drive-thru he's ranting about the engineering issues to actually provide decent feedback, and give him a few alternatives.
So he rushes to the pick-up window, not even caring to order, to look at this godsend of a barista.
It's a scrawny kid with black hair and blue eyes, looking startled. Boy can't be more than eighteen.
He asks what college the kid is going to, or plans to go to.
To his absolute horror, the kid-Danny, according to the nametag-says he can't afford college. That he'd had a stint in highschool where he just hadn't been able to focus, and his parents had spent every penny they had on their own inventions.
So that was why he was a barista; because if he worked there for four years, they would offer tuition assistance.
Which.
No. No no no no no.
Lucius pulls around to march into the store, Bruce Motherfucking Wayne already blearily on his phone.
He is getting this kid, and any friend of his, into college.
If Bruce won't foot the bill, he will.
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puppetmaster13u · 6 months
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You know what I need more of? The Batkids completely fucking with the Justice League and their rogues and coming up with stories for their existence.
Like I am talking about the creation of demigods sort of stories, like Loki sort of stories.
Duke has convinced all of Gotham that he's the Bat Signal brought to life and that's why he's never seen at night and why the signal literally doesn't work during the day. He's waiting giddily for the story to spread outside of the city.
The batkids have convinced half the League that Nightwing is quite literally Batman's lovechild with Justice. Hey, Constantine had a one night stand with the manifestation of a city and they've dealt with gods before, so surely it's not that surprising? Right???
I need more of the Batkids being little shits, of Alfred the-greatest-enabler Pennyworth backing them up and Bat(the-biggest-troll)man to never confirm the stories, but he doesn't deny them either.
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alyakthedorklord · 1 year
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Duke, new to the family, awkwardly entering the kitchen where various members of the Waynes are hanging out/baking/drooling over the baking: Uh… random question, is Tim dating someone?
Steph, all her training focused on stealing baked goods: oh yeah he’s got a boyfriend, why?
Duke, just wanted a book, utterly disgusted: I just wanted to make sure I wasn’t outing him if I told you he’s currently defiling the library.
Jason, slamming down a bowl of brownie batter: he’s fucking WHAT-
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Solomon, encouraging MC : —and you’re clearly very powerful now, starlight. You managed to take down a legion of monsters all by yourself without my help.
MC, still doubtful : Do you really think I’m powerful?
Solomon, cradling your face in his palms : I, for one, find you terrifying
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hypewinter · 2 months
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During a press conference for the newest Justice League member, Phantom, a reporter asks him "Do you have anything to say to all the children who aspire to be like you?"
Phantom looked at the reporter puzzled before saying, "Children wanna be like me? Why? I'm a bad influence."
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finemealprompt · 1 month
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DP x DC Prompt #16
When Hal had asked him which town he protected, Danny was more than happy to tell him, "Amity Park!" When Hal asked Danny where it was, Danny hadn't thought the response, "At this moment? Or where it was last week?" would've caused such chaos in the meeting.
Danny knew not everyone's town traveled across the country, but he didn't think it was odd enough to warrant this kind of reaction.
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Basically, it’s discovered that to help stabilize Danielle, aka Ellie, it’d be best to have her be smaller. She refused to be turned into a kid by Frostbite/her own power ability, when Danny remembered the shrink ray his parents made. The side effect is that they’re kind of stuck as humans when they’re that small—they can use some ghost powers, but basically, it’s a weird side effect of the shrink ray. That’s canon, by the fucking way, lmao
Anyways, so Ellie agrees, and Danny will shrink himself with the ray to her size to help her out when needed/when she wants company her size, with Jazz, Sam, and Tucker occasionally helping out. Sam buys one of those really ornate Victorian dollhouses, with wooden everything, and Danny does some… renovations… so that it no longer opens and is a proper house. There’s still some oddities because it’s a dollhouse originally, but it was easier and faster to give her a home. One of the first additions was a water/wastewater system, followed like two hours later by an electrical system. Since it was so small, Danny was able to do it fairly quickly in his big size, occasionally going small and using the small window for using his powers to double check on things.
The water system had to be refilled every week, unless hooked up to a plumbing system in a house, which Danny made some outlets for in Jazz’s room—it was easier and had significantly less questions/didn’t stand out as much if placed in Jazz’s room. They usually did it every three days, though, as the plug-in process was still a bit… hinky. The tanks for holding the water were in the ‘basement’, which was mostly inaccessible from the inside of the dollhouse but basically looked like a big stand the dollhouse stayed on. Like someone ripped a full house out of the ground WITH the basement attached. There was a small access hallway down some stairs in the house for the clean water system, though.
The electric system was fairly simple, as it didn’t cost much energy to light a dollhouse and heat/cool water. There was an AC unit, Ellie’s request, but it hardly was used and was fairly efficient just due to pure size. It was fueled by ecto batteries, which Danny made sure had a few rechargability options—just because it was efficient energy didn’t mean it didn’t ever need recharging. There was a very small ecto filter, but due to its relative small size, was easy to clean and was fairly stable, so they had a whole closet of them just chilling out, both filled and empty. The battery itself could be charged by ecto sources, Danny’s own blood, or ambient ectoplasm gained by using something that looked like a solar panel and a satellite dish had a child that the batter could be placed in. The hookup also allowed for like… normal D cell batteries.
They would buy dollhouse furniture, and occasionally just buy the big version then shrink it down. Ellie had a huge old house to herself, basically, might as well go ham. And she had a fun time with the designer doll clothes Sam liked to get, although the cheap doll clothes from the store were also fun. Best option was just buying normal clothes and shrinking them, but using things that were already small or just making stuff using normal sized objects was fun.
At some point, though, the Fenton siblings decide to go on a trip. Ellie begs to be taken along, and Jazz agrees—there’s a doll showcase in Gotham, and Jazz wanted to see if anything caught Ellie’s interest. Danny, having a room in the dollhouse himself, also went along. Might as well make it a sibling’s trip, right?
Ellie can be full size for small chunks of time, which they did while exploring the expo. They found some cool things to add, and some doll clothes Ellie was far too interested in trying on, as well as some to force on Danny later. He sighed, but like—that’s his little cousin-sister, he’d put up with it. After all, he learned how to plumb an entire (miniature) house in two days when she refused to move in until it had a fully functional bathroom, so.
Anyways!
They have a fun time, and sure, lugging the relatively giant dollhouse was a PAIN, but it was Ellie’s home, and some stabilizing tech made it relatively safe to move without risking everything freaking breaking. They load everything in again, and the dollhouse is now restocked with clothes, tiny furniture, and a lot of shrunken supplies—some foods are just hard to work with full size, and are easier to shrink, okay? Also soap, paper goods, pencils and pens, books, etc. Jazz loads the thing into her car, and Danny offers to stay with Ellie in the dollhouse—so Jazz gets them in, and shrinks them down, holding onto the shrink ray in the meantime.
All is going relatively well in Gotham traffic until there’s a rogue attack.
Go figure.
Jazz ends up unconscious, and Danny and Ellie can’t do anything before the rogue is taken care of and a paramedic team comes up. They hide back in the dollhouse, listening as the medics say she seems to be okay, just unconscious. A relief, but now they’re taking Jazz away. Fenton luck states she’s one of the few actually injured. The Bat Brigade comes by, and Batman notices that there’s a wallet for one Danny Fenton. Red Robin confirms that Jazz was likely here with at least two other people, based on the ticket stubs for the expo. However, there is a strange lack of social media presence, Danny doesn’t have a photo ID, and there’s no way of knowing for SURE that it was just Danny with her, if it was just two other people, or if Danny was in the car with her. Still, as they can’t find him but DO have his sister and his wallet, they assume he might be missing, possibly kidnapped.
The Gotham PD of course take in the car, although it’s pretty trashed. Knowing well and good that the dollhouse and such things are actually quite expensive, Commissioner Gordon mentions that it wouldn’t be a bad idea for Batman to maybe hold onto the Fenton’s things that *aren’t* related to the investigation.
Batman just takes everything. Including a rather peculiar looking gun that seems to have sustained some damage during the attack and car crash.
Gordon sighs. Figures.
So, Danny and Ellie end up in Wayne Manor. Most of the things end up in the Batcave, but Alfred insists that they place the doll things upstairs in the manor proper—the cave isn’t *that* damp, but doll things are small and delicate. So, upstairs they go.
At first, it’s fine. Danny and Ellie are fine in the dollhouse, and it’ll be at least a week before any of the systems NEED to be worked with.
Then Ellie ends up with a massive migraine. She gets them, on occasion, a sort of growing pain. Usually, they just shrink some medicine for her as she needs it, because she’s like—twelve. While they did have some medicine that had been pre-shrunk, when they were stocking up in Gotham, it turns out pain medicine was more expensive there. Not by much, but they figured—they’ll just stock up in Amity Park, they’ll be there in two days.
Haha. Nope.
So, Danny finally has to venture out. He lucks into finding the first aid kit—why there was one in the main living room, he’s not sure—and is currently working on trying to get open the blister packet of an ibuprofen when Alfred finds him.
Alfred stares at this tiny boy with a tiny make-shift knife trying to get into… over the counter pain medication.
Danny stares at this butler guy who had very gently cleaned the outside and noted the strange fact that the dollhouse did not open.
Danny waves at Alfred.
Alfred waves a tiny finger back.
“Hello,” Alfred says softly, which is fantastic because loud noises could get painful—part of the reason for Ellie’s headache was an argument between Tim and Damian. “How do you do?”
Danny hesitates, before he makes an exaggerated so-so gesture.
“You understand me?”
Danny nods—it’s rare for people to understand what he’s saying when he’s 5 inches tall.
“How wonderful,” Alfred smiles. “And how can I help our young guest tonight?”
Danny gestures to the blister packet.
“Pain medication? Isn’t that a little bit large for you.”
The teen thinks for a second on how to communicate. He points to the pill, then makes a slight show of pretending to grind something, like a mortar and pestle.
Thankfully, Alfred got the idea. “Would it be easier if I ground it up for you?”
Danny takes a moment to think before accepting with an enthusiastic nod.
“Very well,” Alfred says, taking the blister packet in one hand. He then hold his other out, palm up, like a platform. “Would you like to come with me?”
Danny ‘his survival instincts died when he did’ Fenton gets into Alfred’s hand.
Alfred grinds up the pill into a fine powder. Danny hands him a tiny bottle—still large in Danny’s hands, as it was not a shrunk bottle—that he had tied around his waist. Alfred fills it, and hands it back.
“I assume you came from the tiny house we have in our living room?”
Danny again nods. Alfred takes him there, setting him down outside the front door. Danny bows, and sure it’s Japanese as hell, and he’s white as all get out, but it’s a generally understood gesture of thanks. He hopes.
Alfred understands it just fine. “I bid you goodnight, then. Perhaps we will talk more, when you are feeling better?”
Danny hesitates, again, but he nods. Alfred had been nice enough, so far.
Danny heads in, quickly measuring out the medicine—shrunk pressure plates and scales and weights made what it was measuring relative—to him the weights on the hand balance scale felt the same weight. Ellie got her medicine, and they both went back to sleep.
He told her in the morning what happened. Ellie was strangely gung-ho about meeting this butler guy, and so—when no one else was around—, she and Danny went onto the tiny balcony as Alfred came in to dust.
“Oh my,” he said. “There’s two of you, now. Should I expect more?”
Both of them did an exaggerated ‘no’ dance.
“Very well, I don’t believe I’ve introduced myself. I’m Alfred Pennyworth, the family butler. Welcome to Wayne Manor.”
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ghostbsuter · 1 month
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He'd moved to metropolis on a whim.
The city was big, he's earning good money via commissioned things (most people come to him for cosplay actually, who knew that knowing how to build a sci-fi gun that doesn't even work would be this wanted??) and he's got a nice apartment!
Superman and Supergirl were the active heroes, he didn't need to involve himself anymore with the world of heroes, he would continue as a civilian. It was better this way.
So how come LexLuthor, of all people, what is his luck?, sends him an invitation to LexCorp AND once declined, seemed to have created some sort of energy absorbing weapon that directly zoomed in on his immediate whenever around?
Civilian life is one thing.
Being rescued via Super for the 9th time is another.
"Hey Danny." Supergirl grins, they're floating to the side as Superman deals with Lex.
"Hey, Supergirl." Danny replies with a sigh, holding his bag.
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emacrow · 24 days
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Alfred gains an unique apprentice after his arm got fractured.
Most of the batfam has been causing a ruckus in the Wayne Manor for the past 4 months that even Alfred was feeling a bit worn out.
To the point that his personal favorite market friends suggest getting a trainee, or a ward to help him out epecially because Alfred isn't getting any younger, no matter how well he took care of his own health.
Helda got herself a ward herself, a sweet little girl, name Ellen who help her keep the lil Duckling candles shop in order especially after her hip surgery went through, and will be taking over for her considering helda had no descendents, but Ellen make her feel young again.
Alfred merely delined, but ended up getting the card still by persistented friends. A card with a purple GrandFather clock symbol and a number on it. He left it in his draw as he was not rude enough to throw away.
Then came the prank war 13 on June 15th in the Wayne Manor that Alfred accidentally ended up being targeted by pure coincidence which ended with him with a fractured arm..
Both Bruce and Alfred was majorly disappointed with how far escalated the prank war went that got immediately stop when the batfam saw Alfred gotten injured during it.
Except now Alfred is stuck for 6-10 weeks without using his right arm until his personal doctor said it ok to take the cast off then have a arm sling..
Alfred was immensely stubborn for 3 days, 3 days of trying to do all his duties.. before he gave in..
And called the number on the card, and received a lovely blue letter with a couple of oddly specific paperwork on a type of help he need, what is your age, your job occupied, have any illness or arthritis, needs in case of meta or superpower sudden surprises appear, how dangerous is your and your family lifestyle, etc
By the time he finished the paperwork and hand it sent back in the return blue letter. It was by day 5 on a Friday when he received a letter back, stating that that a ward been selected and will be coming from Amity Park to help him.
Alfred was expected a teenager, but a 7 year old boy with blaring light blue eyes, starlight like freckles, black hair with a medium space designed suitcase and a very old and worn out bearbert plush on top of it.
"Good morning, You must be Mr. Pennyworth, and I'm Danny." Danny beamed a soft smile with the eyes of wisdom and understanding. Alfred pause for a mere second before a soft smile bloomed and open the door wide for him.
"Hello there Danny, do come in. Alfred said softly as he watch danny a bit with curiosity.
Would you like a snack before we start the day?" Alfred ask as he escorted danny to the kitchen to help him with today breakfast along with a list of the breakfast dishes with ingredients.
"That ok, what would you like to help you do, cut the vegetables, stir the pot, help lift the food into the oven, or clean the dishes, because you aren't going to try and do that all with a broken arm, right?" Danny said as he look at today breakfast list, going to the sink and cleaning his hand thoroughly first before touching any fresh ingredients already put out while Alfred pick the frying pans, cups, dishes and utensils for the batfam.
Alfred notice right away that danny was floating a bit to pick the heavy large pot full of marinated food from the fridge that was supposed to be on the stove for slow brothing for later today dinner, considering alfred couldn't well take it out himself since his arm was broken..
Smiling softly to himself that it was a good idea to have a ward of his own as he teaches danny the best techniques to make a Benedict.
New post here
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DC x DP Prompt
To the delight of Gotham's citizens, and the dismay of her criminal underbelly, the GCPD has a new specialized unit that ACTUALLY apprehends criminals and brings them to justice!
It's a relatively small squad of mostly young adults, who looked fresh out of their teens. But age didn't matter once they got the work done. And they did, as they've already got criminals like Penguin, Riddler, and Bane behind bars for what looks to be 'for good'.
No one besides Commissioner Gordan knows anything about the squad as they operate as a mostly separate entity from GCPD. It was rare to see any of them, and any photos taken were unusually blurry. They are also extremely secretive; if you exclude their social media which are usually just shit posts, memes, and thirst edits of the Wayne family.
They were a total mystery. Almost as mysterious as Batman.
But those who have seen/worked with the squad before all had the same thing to say about them. They were cool. They had an unusually effective method. And their leader is a menace. With his sharp teeth and pointed smile. And bright blue eyes that spoke to your soul. It was a pleasure to see/ work with him, it really was. But they weren't planning on doing so again for a long time.
That being said, Gotham had been quiet for a while. A bit too quiet if you ask anyone, especially the Bats. Strangely, it didn't feel like the usual calm before the shit storm. The instinctual pit in their guts that usually formed just wasn't there. This was different. This wasn't the calm before the storm. This was the ocean receding. But no one seemed to realize it yet.
Not until the tsunami came crashing down on them.
The GCPD special unit accounts that had been inactive for the last three months suddenly pinged to life. Everyone who followed them clicked the notification almost immediately. With this unnerving calm surrounding them, who the hell didn't want to see what batshit crazy statement they would make after three months of radio silence.
What they didn't expect, was to see a crystal-clear picture of justice finally being served.
The picture was a selfie, taken in an abandoned warehouse. In the middle of the dirty floor was the Joker. He was tied up and his head hung low. You could see how beaten he was, his clothes torn and bloody. His face paint was also coming off, revealing pale blotchy skin. Reminding everyone that, he was still human, just like the rest of them.
Behind him, all lined up with smiles on their faces, was Team Phantom. They were a bit bloody and bruised as well but overall in much better condition. They weren't wearing the normal GCPD navy blue uniform, but black and white ones. All stylized to fit the wearers taste. They all looked so young, but their eyes looked like old tired eyes, finally getting some relief.
From in the corner was their leader. Only part of his face was in the picture. One glowing blue eye, and part of his Cheshire smile. His hand making a peace sign next to the Joker. Even with only part of his being shown, everyone could tell he was relived as well.
And while the picture itself was shocking, the caption was what really got them. The top was what you would usually expect from the team. A big bold 'GOT EM' ' at the top. But at the bottom in small, almost unnoticeable text was:
"He will face his punishment. We will get our retribution. May we finally rest in peace."
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nottsangel · 30 days
Text
Mattheo Riddle nsfw headcanons
pairing: mattheo riddle x fem!reader
warnings: smut 18+, vaginal sex, fingering, praise and degradation, bondage, spit kink, overstimulation
nav. // m.list // blurbs m.list // taglist
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a dom! can be a bit more submissive when he’s sleepy or feeling sad but usually prefers being dominant
not much foreplay if it’s a one-night stand but if you’re his girlfriend then he’ll really take his time
takes it slow when undressing you and kisses every inch of your body
“so beautiful, my girl. all fuckin’ mine.”
deep and slow strokes that have you rolling your eyes to the back of your head
he’s gentle and rough at the same time and it gets your mind all fuzzy
horny at the most random times. he just doesn’t have control over it
quickies before quidditch practice ‘cause ‘it gives him energy’
which is just a shitty excuse to fuck you because this man always has energy. he’s like a puppy
doesn’t care if you wear revealing clothes out in public because he’ll just fight whoever tries anything with you and fuck you so hard afterwards, they’ll hear you scream his name
“yeah, just like that baby. scream my fucking name”
loves fingering you while leaving love bites all over your neck
doesn’t only like marking you with hickeys, but also the other way around. and proudly shows them off too
praise him. he loves that shit. especially when he’s fingering you or eating you out. he just needs to hear from his girl how well he’s doing
lights a cigarette right after you’re done while you’re laying on top of him with his cock still buried deep inside of you
kinks
degradation + praise. a perfect mix of both. calls you his ‘good little slut’
tying you up. just loves having control over you. if he’s really in that mood, he’ll even hold a vibrator against your clit until you’re begging for him to stop, which brings us to the next kink
overstimulation. seeing you shake and cry as he makes you cum for the nth time that night feeds his ego a little too much
spit kink. will forcefully grip your face, tell you to open up, and spit in your mouth “that’s a good girl”
favourite positions
prone bone. but with his arm wrapped around your neck while he dirty talks into your ear
on his desk. any position on his desk, whether that be you bent over the surface or you facing him with your legs wrapped around his torso
reverse cowgirl. because he likes to slap your ass while you ride him
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reblogs and comments are very appreciated !!
taglist (join here): @shxwty43 @heartthc @kayleiggh @daddysfucktoyslut @abaker74 @anahcruz15 @tellenically @lady-of-love-beauty-and-death @gardening-tool-for-sebby-stan @vintageirene @poetrybxtch @leelizzz @justreadingficsdontmindme @stillinski25 @burningdesirebby0 @hvgwartss @bunnyweasley23 @watersquirtpewpewboomm @liqvidlvvck @loveeharrington @demirunner @saturnmoonyy @nyctophicbtch @iloveefictionalpeople @s1lent-gl1tch @jac1ndaa @iluvweasleys @mih-velaryon @oncasette @juletaylorsversion @scrletletter @le000xxgrd @dramaticals @thepotatopigeon
also tagging my mattheo girls @obxsprincess & @eternalbuckley & @blackthunder137 + my girl @rafesthroatbaby <3
— if you don’t want to be tagged anymore, fill in this form.
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