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flashypunches · 3 months

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( REUPLOAD I ACCIDENTALLY DELETED IT im so sorry )

You're someone who's held great resentment for your godfather.

For your first meeting, for his ego, for his murderous intent towards your father.

For his failure to provide comfort or understanding when your parents refused you as a son, when your friends have left you as a corpse.

You suffer through long years, sticking with him through thick and thin, because he’s the only one like you, the only other Death refused to take.

( The daughter he made, the cousin you mourned, Dani, is gone. She will not return to either of you. It is always his fault. )

Because he’s all you have left. The only one who wouldn't refuse you.

He moves you to a city that matches your dreary state. Vigilantes take residence, closing in on crime. Closing in on your godfather.

Vlad leaves. He doesn’t take you with him.

He leaves you his wealth, a place in a school that makes you miss home, and an order to never speak to the ones who made him run– the Waynes.

He doesn’t return. Never properly. You make due with phone calls and brief visits every now and then. You don’t mind, you preferred this more than his haphazard attempts at providing companionship when it was too late.

Your schoolmates does not like you. That is okay, even if it leaves you longing for friends.

( Sam and Tucker are in Amity and will stay there until they die. They would never come and visit a corpse like you. Not when you desecrate their friend's body, parading it around, like you're him. They know who you really are. They've always known, they just couldn't see sense before. )

But you find someone who could be one.

He is prickly, rude, disliked less, but disliked nonetheless. But he is the only other person who does not care about your worn out shoes, for your scars, your clammy skin, all the things that made your parents refuse you as a son, as sentient— or about you coming in the middle of the school year.

You care not about his attitude, desperation clawing at your mind for any form of socialization not from Vlad or who he calls company.

You make quick work of befriending him, a shared rivalry for an annoying schoolmate pulling you close together.

You learn his interests, his pets, his family. You know his name but do not ask for it. Willful ignorance could be considered bliss. Just for a moment.

He lets you stay at his house for a night, though his siblings push the matter more enthusiastically. You do not see his father.

( “He’s on a business trip.” Daniel blinks, looking up at his friend.

“Who?” he asks, despite knowing there’s only one person that Damian could be referring to.

Damian tsked automatically, “My father, you imbecile. He will return in two weeks notice.”

Daniel thinks of his godfather, of his various excuses over the years to many people, including him. But instead of telling Damian the likely truth, that his father won’t return, never like how his best friend wants him too, an “Okay” comes out in place of it.

Let him bask in ignorance, Daniel tells himself, Let your friend have this. )

His father comes back. You don’t call Vlad when he forgets you. For all he wanted you as a son, now he never tries to treat you as such.

You continue the cycle of avoiding an empty house, of sleep-overs, of waiting for something to happen.

And something does. Your godfather comes back. He lies to you that he won’t leave again. He says that he will stay longer, that the family who tried to run him out won’t succeed again.

You do not think of your best friend. Why would he even care?

Your godfather treats you like he had before, when you still had your friends, your home. Like you are a misbehaving child, and him, the tired parent.

( Shouts of an argument ring from an dead manor, before being shut out to the upstairs.

Daniel slammed the door, not caring if Vlad had heard it or not. Ancients, he'd forgotten how much of an utter fruit-loop Vlad was. He gritted his teeth, rubbing the bruise left on his wrist by the man.

Why'd he expect anything different? Vlad was just going to be his usual nutty self, and go back to treating him like he was still some misguided kid, that he would just come around to playing nice with Vlad.

The wood of the door was smooth, most likely sanded down from any splinters by the past families who lived here. Daniel moved his fingers along the grooves, faintly remembering how he had done this before, when he was better. He bit his tongue, ignoring the bitter taste of ectoplasm it brought forth.

He hadn't thought of who he was before since he'd ran. He hadn't been this angry at Vlad since he ran. He hadn't felt so like himself after he ran.

Daniel would be lying if that thought didn't make him feel just a little bit better.

He let his head fall into his knees, back leaning against the wooden door, limbs sagging. He did not cry, because the Danny from the empty home did not do that. )

It irks you, but not like before. Maybe you were doing something right if he’s treating you like this now, treating you normally. Maybe you’re back to who you were before, before the rejection scarred you.

Damian notices the change in your personality, as you notice his change in costume. He is on the rooftops, in the streets, cloaked in muted colors, not unlike your own old costume, and his family knows your godfather is back.

When you come back to school after a week of Vlad trying to bond with you without success, Damian doesn’t say a word about your godfather.

You don’t either. What even is there to say?

“Oh, I know that you are investigating my godfather, and that you’re a vigilante, surprise!”

You would have been killed ages ago if that was your response.

Your friend does not invite you over anymore. You know why, understand why but it still stabs your core, in the way a butter knife does to wood. Dents it but does not cut.

You repeat the loop of boring conversation, of stilted companionship. You grow tired of it, as you always do.

Vlad's signature is easy to forge. You get to skip your classes under the guise of it being a family emergency.

( Damian is near the gate when he gets off the bus. Daniel's ratty sneakers are hitting the ground, as he walks over to him.

The weight of his backpack feels heavy, the evidence that Daniel had stuffed inside not helping his back. Damian twirls around at his steps, a scowl already on his lips.

Daniel smiles back, readjusts the straps on his shoulders. He whispers to Damian, uncaring of the fight currently breaking out in the front, the fight that Damian is watching, "I'm getting out of school today, wanna come with?"

His friend tears his eyes away from the brawl, looking intrigued at Daniel's offer.

Damian considers the chance. The thought of having to sit through another day of school with only Jon for mild company sickens him.

"I suppose I can, though if this is a trap Masters, then let it be known that—"

"Yeah, yeah, I get it, you in still?" Daniel flashes his (only) friend a cheesy grin, ignoring Damian's eye-roll at his theatrics.

"..Yes."

The route to the local park is quick, though slowed by the need to be away from the public's eyes, lest they be caught right away in their venture.

Daniel gasps in a breath, ancients, did he need to jog way more. Damian easily strides beside him, the only sign that he was showing off being the smug gleam in his green eyes. Bastard.

The papers, the records, the flash-drive, all weigh down his back. Vlad has definitely noticed them missing, and he most definitely knows who took them.

But Daniel didn't care, not right now, because right now, he was spending time with his bestest friend in the whole wide world, and he'll deal with Vlad later. )

You drag Damian over to a secluded bench, taking no mind to the mutations Poison Ivy has given the plants near. The backpack is emptied, and you guide your only friend to the path that leads to Vlad's destruction.

The dread fades away, the high of adrenaline taking its place, at the crimes left behind in pieces, put back together in a backpack, and let loose into the hands of your only friend.

It feels good, like something’s been taken off your shoulders. You know that Vlad has anticipated you telling someone about what he’s done. He’s still not leaving.

Your high is running down, as you start to beg Damian not to arrest him, lying to your only friend that Vlad is a better man, and doesn't deserve to rot in a cell. You know that when you take a separate route to your homes, that he’ll tell anyway.

You can’t bring yourself to care. Vlad’ll just weasel out of it, as he always does.

He knows what you did, doesn’t bring it up, with the only sign being a watchful eye whenever you’re back in his grasp.

You get invited to a gala by your friend. You accept, uncaring of Vlad's reaction.

Your friend gets held ransom. No one’s worried, no one feels anything but annoyance. You stay away, not wanting to feel your core straining to help, to protect.

The Bats swoop in to help. You ignore the envy at their luck at having a team of other heroes to depend on.

( Your friend ) The Waynes send people after your godfather. He tries to bribe his way out of the charges, out of the jail cell that cannot hold him. They leave with him in tow.

You start staying overnight at your friend’s house even more. Damian doesn’t say a word about it.

His father does. His siblings do.

They talk about adopting you, they fight about Vlad, about what they are meant to do with your godfather, and what to do with poor old Danny. You don’t listen in much. They remind you of your parents, just a little bit. It hurts.

Vlad is let go. False charges, apparently. You know he just bribed the judge and juries.

He wants to talk to you, intent on having a conversation that lasts more than five minutes without shouting and tears ending it.

I'm sorry for not being there, please, give me forgiveness, are the only things you remember from the conversation. You do not give him what he wants, but the conversation doesn't end in slammed doors and withheld tears.

You sleep under his roof for the first time in weeks, the most civil conversation you’ve ever been with him looping in your mind. You even wonder if he’ll let you go to your friend’s birthday party.

You don’t sleep at your friend’s house as much. There’s not much need to anymore.

You wake up one night, to hear the sounds of ectoblasts and footsteps. They are on the roof, and you know what they’re here for.

You go ghost, going up the roof, watching invisibly as Plasmius shoots at the vigilantes who yell about something. You stay like that for a moment. You almost decide to let him go.

He's the only one you have left, to leave him, to abandon him, is to leave the last person in your corner. That thought is the only reason why you lift your thermos up, capturing Vlad in one fell swoop, before he leaves too.

The vigilantes are not pleased, as the Bat barks out orders to find you. You can imagine Vlad is the same, fuming at your disrespect inside the can.

With Vlad in your thermos, the Bats on your tail, there is no hope in your mind of getting out of Gotham with everything you need.

Oh Danny, what are you going to do?

#dcxdp #reblog #writing #if it wasn't obvious #dead serious ship #vlad's fucking pissed at daniel #damian doesn't know what went wrong #he just wanted to know why the new kid wanted to be friends with him now hes in an investigation on masters criminal charges #dead serious #i will add more writing snippets but i can not think of anything else #Danny goes by daniel in this becuase of how he associates with vlad and now hes on better terms with vlad #he doesnt mind mind danny but he does mind dann-o or sweetheart since his parents used them alot #IM SO SORRY FOR DELTEING THIS BTW #dpxdc #dp x dc crossover #dp x dc prompt #dc x dp #dc x dp crossover #danny phantom x dc #dp x dc fanfic #dp x dc #dp x dc au #fic outline #kinda #but if you want to use this please just put a link to this post #reupload #dc x dp prompt #dp crossover #dc crossover #dpxdc prompts

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secretidentie · 4 months

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My Superbat prompts

I've been reading superbat since forever and I finally got a tumblr account so I thought I could ask some writers to use these.

Clark kent is at the manor to interview Bruce Wayne when Dr Freeze attacks and they're basically snowed in. Bruce trying to hide secrets and Clark getting the chance to write the story of the year in the form of an I depth exposé from inside the home of billionaire blah, blah, blah... Chaos and fluff.

Bruce is in a love triangle with superman and Clark Kent. Clark assumes Bruce knows he's one person. Bruce decides to solve this by brooding and going on a series of dates with them both until he decides who's his perfect match. (you decide if Clark knows Bruce is batman but think both versions are hilarious)

Bruce Wayne has to go undercover as a carnival worker in a small town on batman business. After the Daily Planet is bought out by corrupt government officials, Clark quits and goes back home to Smallville. He feels like he's changed and isn't as fulfilled by the simple life, not to mention how much harder it is to keep being superman. He doesn't even feel useful on the farm and can't find a job he enjoys to make some money of his own and leave the house. He starts visiting the fair to take his mind of things and meeting this handsome carnival worker who he definitely would have recognized in a small town like this.

LexCorp frames Wayne enterprises for some shady dealings putting the company under investigation which might even lead to it filing for bankruptcy. While Fox and others fix this, Bruce, as the face of the company, is advised to lay low and leave Gotham for a bit. He decides to get an apartment in the cheap side of Metropolis, since all his assets are frozen and he only has one working bank account. On top of that he has to deal with his hot new roommate (or neighbor depending on how you write it) who keeps leaving and coming back at the weirdest hours while also trying to keep tabs on Gotham and maybe getting himself a job in the mean time. (to be clear Clark is the roommate)

During an argument batman says he could easily do superman's job and superman says the same. So they swap cities for two weeks. First to call for backup looses. (feel free to add romance if you want but it's not compulsory)

Clark final gathers the courage to ask out batman but right before he does, green lantern starts flirting with batman too. Harvey dent is recently released from arkham and claims to be reformed and wanting to rekindle his well known public relationship with his collage sweetheart Bruce Wayne. This causes Oliver queen to also try to win his childhood best friend's heart. It's a very long week for Bruce. (all povs if possible. Also Bruce knows everyone's identities but no one knows his. This also doesn't have to end up superbat, choose your favorite ship. Make this love-pentagon as messy as you can)

These are just a few of my personal favorites. I have a lot more. Let me know if you want me to post them. If fics with these premise already exist let me know coz I would love to read them. You can make it as explicit as you want or make it for general audiences but for my sake please add fluff. If you use these prompts also make sure to tag me here or on AO3.

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thefreakandthehair · 11 months

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@eddiemonth prompt, oct 27th: Haunted House | Hunters Moon - Ghost | Funny read on ao3 + masterpost | tumblr masterlist

Haunted houses are supposed to be scary– fog, strobe lights, creepy crawlies and otherworldly creatures. Eddie’s prepared for all of that when he takes the job at the local haunt during his favorite time of year– it’s in the name, after all.

What he’s not prepared for is Steve Goddamn Harrington to show up with a gaggle of pre-teens nipping at his heels like baby ducks demanding attention.

“– don’t need your bat, it’s fine! It’s fake, Steve, c’mon.” He hears one particularly loud mop-headed kid arguing from behind his perch.

Faux blood drips from the gash built up on his forehead down his nose and he smears it across his cheek, both for effect and because as much as he loves the hideous clown role, the viscous corn syrup trickling down his face makes his skin crawl.

Wait, he thinks, furrowing his eyebrows as best he can beneath the special effects makeup. Did that kid just insinuate Steve Harrington wanted to bring a bat into a haunted house?

“Yeah Steve, are you scared of spooky clowns now?” Another of his group sneers, this one a bit taller, skinny with darker hair. “Gonna show off and clobber some poor innocent actor like you did that demo–”

Steve hisses loud enough still for Eddie to hear him and grabs the kid by the shoulder. “Say it a little louder, why dontcha, Mike? Jesus Christ.”

“Well, are you?” A redheaded girl asks as they get closer and closer to the entrance.

“After everything real we’ve seen, you think I’m afraid of what I know is fake?” Eddie can make out the shape of Steve standing with one hand on his hip and his finger pointing around at each of the kisd. “This was you little shits’ idea, remember that.”

Eddie’s grateful he’s toward the beginning of the haunt. He gets to set the tone for the rest of the show, and when someone particularly interesting piques his interest, sometimes he follows them around. Breathes down their neck a little, stands just a little too close without blinking, tilts his head with a ghastly smile when they turn around.

Before they’ve even entered the house, Eddie’s decided to have a little fun with Steve Harrington.

The fog machine kicks off, curling up from the floor around their ankles, spiraling like snakes up to the ceiling. Eddie grins and prepares himself for scare number one.

The jumpscare.

“Ow, you’re on my foot, asshole!” One of the kid whispers.

“Then don’t stand so close!” Another responds.

“We’re literally in a fucking hallway–”

“Guys, language! And while you’re at it, shut the fuck up and pay attention!”

When they’re in classes together, Eddie has to choke back the amused grin that plays at his lips when Steve shows off his bite but nothing is real in a haunted house anyways.

He lets himself smile.

At least, until the sound machine groans to life. He waits for them to look around, to seek control, to figure out what the noise is and how to defend against it.

“Welcome!” He screams with a cackling laugh, leaping out from his hiding spot and landing in a crouching position. “I hope you like it here, because you’re,” he circles around them with bent legs before leaning closer and shouting, “never leaving!”

All of the kids scream simultaneously, devolving into nervous laughter. Steve though? Eddie watches Steve seize up and instinctually yank the kids closer to him.

It’s not what he expects from the King of Hawkins High, dethroned or otherwise. Eddie’s heart clenches as he locks eyes with Steve, flitting back and forth between the rest of the haunt and the door they’d just entered through. His nostrils are flared, his lips tight, his eyebrows knitting together above his nose.

Eddie’s gonna follow him alright, but not for the reasons he's initially planned.

“My name is Krusty, and I’m your new friend.”

He circles around Steve like a predator and leans closer, his lips nearly grazing Steve’s ear. “Follow my lead, I’ll get you outta here.”

Steve turns too quickly and their faces narrowly avoid one another, shoved between the kids itching to keep moving and the wall. Eddie nods and tries to make his smile comforting and reassuring. It must work because Steve’s shoulders drop from his ears and he whispers back.

“Thanks.”

—

Eddie bangs on the wall each time they enter the new room, cackling and yelling things like Fresh meat! and Look, I found us some new friends! The kids seem to be thoroughly enjoying themselves, and even Eddie can’t help but laugh when one of his fellow scare actors snorts in the curly-headed kid’s ear loud enough that he damn near jumps into Steve’s arms.

“Jesus Christ, Dustin!” Steve topples backwards into Eddie, who braces himself against a prop cotton candy machine. “Remember earlier? It’s fake, Steve, c’mon?”

From around Steve’s shoulder, Eddie sees Dustin shoot Steve an annoyed look with wide, incredulous eyes.

“Alright, alright, you good?” Steve rectifies, his voice softer.

Dustin nods and straightens himself out with a pat on the head and ruffle from Steve before walking forward to rejoin the group.

“Last scare, Harrington” Eddie takes the opportunity to whisper in Steve’s ear, dropping out of character entirely.

Who can blame him? How can he be expected to stay in the headspace of a terrifying, bloody clown when Steve Harrington is in his space, protecting little sheep when he’s afraid himself? And wearing some of the tightest jeans he’s ever seen?

He’s just a man.

Steve whips around with furrowed brows and a wrinkled nose. “How the fuck do you know my name?”

“Krusty knows everything.”

He tries to shift back into gear and grins as he licks the fake blood that’s dripped down his nose to his top lip. It must be the fog machine, because there’s no way he just caught Steve’s eyes flickering down to track the movement.

Nothing’s real in a haunted house.

“Your children seem to have disappeared without you, let’s go catch them. Before someone else does.” Eddie claps his hands together with faux glee and skips ahead.

The last room of the haunt is Eddie’s least favorite, truthfully. No actors, no human presence, just disorienting, kaleidescopic strobe lights, cobwebs hanging from the ceiling tangling themselves in whatever they can reach, and disembodied, whirring noises blaring from the speakers. If anything, it just gives him a headache.

Steve’s charges handle it well enough; like many others, they complain that it was boring and Eddie overhears some of their constructive criticisms. He agrees with their stance, but can’t spend much time focusing on that.

Not when he looks back to check on Steve only to find him with one hand over his eyes and the other scaling the side of the wall, cobwebs sticking to the sleeve of his jacket and knotting in his hair.

Before Eddie can think about what he’s doing, his feet make the decision for him and he approaches Steve, places a hand on his lower back. Steve startles against the touch but doesn’t move his hand.

“Just keep your eyes closed and I’ll get us out, okay? We all fuckin’ hate this room, trust me.”

Steve nods and takes a shaky breath, letting Eddie guide him through the room as quickly and discreetly as possible. “It’s just the goddamn lights, man. I get migraines and these are the worst. Those kids give me enough headaches without the extra help.”

Eddie gives a soft chuckle and shakes his head, looks Steve up and down briefly before they reach the end. Selfishly, Eddie wants to take his time and soak up the false reality of the haunted house and the safety it offers because really, in what other world will he ever be this close to Steve Harrington again? But he can tell the guy he’s suffering and Eddie has his fantasies to fall back on later.

They’ve gotten him this far.

“Why’d you bring ‘em then?” He asks, curious.

Steve shrugs and sighs. “They’re good kids and wanted to come, and I’m the babysitter so, of course, it’s me. Gotta make sure they’re safe.”

He says the last bit with a heaviness that Eddie doesn’t quite understand but they take their last few steps out into the night. The illusion of the haunted house crumbles, Eddie removes his hand as though he’s been branded, and Steve’s eyes flutter open.

“Well, you did great. Your monsters are over there.” Eddie gestures with his chin towards the open field where six kids sit in a circle, laughing a bit too loudly.

“Better go wrangle them up.” Steve pinches the bridge of his nose and comes away with a cobweb.

“Oh yeah, you’ve got a little–” Eddie starts, reaching up impulsively to pick what he can out of Steve’s hair.

He’s touching The Hair’s hair, and he doesn’t catch the rumored Harrington right hook for it. Instead, Steves stands silent as Eddie works, staring and blinking a few times.

“There ya go, de-cobwebed. Free of charge,” Eddie smirks with pursed lips. “Unless you wanna tip, there’s a jar up front.”

“Thanks,” Steve starts, running both hands through his hair and shaking as though to make sure. Or to torment Eddie. Maybe both. “For this and for uh, that.” He jerks his thumb behind them towards the house.

“Any time, man. Any time. Spread the word, will ya? We could use the business.”

Steve smiles at him as he turns to walk away, and Eddie wishes it was really him on the receiving end. But it’s not, because Steve doesn’t recognize him behind all the makeup. He’s just Krusty: bleeding heart, overly kind menacing clown.

It's true, the motto. Nothing's real in a haunted house.

“Oh and, hey,” Steve calls out when he’s just a few steps away.

“Yeah?” Eddie responds as Steve turns to look over his shoulder.

“See you in Click’s class on Monday, Munson.”

#steddie #steddie fic #steddie fanfic #steddie fanfiction #eddie munson #steve harrington #eddie month #stranger things #stranger things fic #stranger things fanfic #stranger things fanfiction #myblurbs #eddie month prompts #please consider reblogging if you enjoy! <333

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little-pondhead · 1 year

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[inspired roughly by this post. My brain snails started going nuts so I thought it'd be easier to post this separately :)]

…

It was a lovely day in Gotham. Well, as lovely as it could be. The sun was up, peeking through the overhead cloud cover and making the buildings gleam in the rare sunlight. The air was fresher than usual, and faucets ran clear of strange and unusual toxins.

Somewhere in the Upper East Side, in a little neighborhood tucked away from the rest of the city, marched around the new boss of the area. She was a young girl, just barely in high school. But despite it being the middle of a work day, she wandered around her chosen streets, content to do whatever she wanted. Above her, a pair of siblings watched on and discussed the unique situation.

"So let me get this straight: that fourteen-year-old goth girl is a crime boss?"

Mia smiled at Leon, her older brother, and his dumbfounded expression as they rested on her balcony. "She's fifteen, actually. Her birthday just passed. We all got together and threw a block party for her!"

"You know how insane that sounds, right?" Leon turned to her, a bit miffed that she dared to say those words to his face. "She's a kid. Why do you all listen to her?"

Mia shrugged and sipped her beer. "She does good work. Holds her own pretty well, and the kid has connections. Good ones, too. That can be the difference between life and death in Gotham."

Leon rubbed his forehead in frustration. "I just don't get it. How did she end up in this line of work? Do child labor laws even apply here?? Why aren't the Bats doing anything?"

"Don't think about it too much, dipshit." Mia crushed her now-empty beer can in her hand and tucked it into a paper garbage bag hanging off of a hook on the balcony rail. A familiar set of green arrows was printed on the side.

"And now you're recycling?!" Leon realized. "When did you start doing that, Mia??"

The woman shrugged and got up, stretching. "Probably around the time Brambles absolutely reamed out Mrs. Zalinski for littering at the park."

"Wait, who's Brambles?" Leon scrambled upright and followed his sister inside.

Mia laughed. "Brambles is our fifteen-year-old crime boss!"

...

"I can't believe you got a cool name right off the bat," Danny grumbled, flopping onto Sam's bed face-first. Sam smirked and shoved him off with her foot. Danny just squawked and let himself ragdoll to the ground.

"It's your fault for not having a better gimmick." She said to his prone body. "Besides, it could've been worse."

"I think Inviso-Bill is the worst possible nickname for anyone." Danny groaned. "But you got something cool immediately. Who even thought up 'Brambles'? That's such a unique name!"

"Well the kids call you Grim; that's pretty cool."

Danny flopped over, twisting himself much farther than any human was supposed to just so he could glare at her face. "They only call me that cause one of the is obsessed with Harry Potter." He grumbled, pouting.

Sam just rolled her eyes and went back to sorting through piles of papers scattered all across her duvet. Since moving to Gotham several months ago, Sam had taken it upon herself to turn the experience into something useful rather than just moping all the time, as she originally wanted to. That 'something useful' had landed her as the newest crime boss in Gotham, with about a third of the Upper East Side as her current territory.

So many problems had popped up in the last year, and the group had decided that taking it on alone would never work. The GIW had been trying to close Amity's borders, Danny's parents had a scientific breakthrough, tensions in the Realms were high, etc. There was a lot on their plate! Sam's solution was to create a foothold in Gotham City. She would lay the foundations for Jazz to work in Arkham and forge a safer environment for the residents of Amity Park to sneak off to if the GIW went too far. She was essentially weaving a cushion for everyone to fall back on.

Danny, using the power of duplication, was splitting his focus between foiling his parent's plans and resolving issues with his rouges to create a united front. He was the main distraction, and Sam's own heavy hitter when she needed help establishing dominance.

Tucker planned to gather intel with the help of Technus and Jazz. They were trying to gather as much evidence as possible so they'd be in the clear when the whistle blew. The GIW would crash and burn, legally speaking. They were the bugs of the operation, spreading themselves thin and hoarding information like it was candy.

Dani was their wild card, their jester. She was keeping the JLD's attention focused solely on her and all the supernatural hijinks she was stirring up. When the time was right, she'd point them in the direction needed and let them loose. After winding them up so much, the hope was that the Justice League Dark would descend upon the GIW like hellfire.

But those were their future plans. Right now, Sam was in possession of specific files from Arkham Asylum and the GCPD. She was looking for anything to give her an edge in the upcoming meeting with a few other crime bosses. Some annual thing they host to renew Goonion contracts, see who's still alive, and examine how much the territory lines have changed. Stuff like that. Red Hood was supposed to be there, and she knew she needed an ironclad defense against him and his nosy colony of Bats.

Danny untwisted himself all of a sudden, making a weird face. "Sorry, got to go." He apologized. "Vlad just showed up to my house."

Sam waved him off. "Go, I'll be fine for today. Just be on time for the meeting on Friday. And I want you, not a double."

"You got it!" Danny did finger guns at her and promptly melted into a pile of green goo. Right on her bedroom floor!

Sam sighed and got up to throw a towel over the puddle. The ectoplasm would evaporate eventually, returning to the original Danny little by little. But for now, this would keep anyone from asking about it until it was all gone.

Sometimes she really hated living in student dorms. People always felt the need to burst into her room for no reason.

Who even made dorm rooms for high schoolers in the first place??

...

Jason couldn't help but stare at the new recruit.

Well, 'new recruit' wasn't exactly accurate. 'Potential to be the most headache-inducing supervillain' was more like it. Standing at a solid 5'10" with platform boots, Brambles, the newest crime lord who had taken over half of the Upper East Side in under four months, was almost tall enough to look him in the eye straight on. Which she tried to do anyways, tilting her chin up oh-so-slightly (in that stupid way aristocrats do when they want to look down at you) and glaring at him with open hostility.

Brambles was young, way too young to be in this line of business. At the start of the annual underground crime meeting (yes, they couldn't come up with a better name), she had announced that she was fifteen, went by she/her, and would snap the dick off of anyone who looked at her funny. Most everyone laughed at her, thinking it was an empty threat. Brambles proved it wasn't by sucker-punching a younger lieutenant who tried to get handsy with her five minutes into the meeting.

When the lieutenant's boss protested and threatened a gang war, Brambles had snapped her fingers and summoned what could only be a fucking pit demon from the depths of hell to threaten the man back. The creature looked like a teenager, just like Brambles, at first. But it was...off. The longer you looked, the worse it got.

It wore a draping black cloak that covered most of its body, with the ends turning to mist when it reached the floor. It had a pale, young face and white hair. Its eyes glowed just like Brambles', except they were a toxic green that made Jason's heart skip a beat in fear. The creature was snarling, with a fucking muzzle on it to keep its sharp teeth away from wandering fingers.

With a nod from Brambles, the creature bounded forward and knocked the guy to the floor, its arm elbow-deep into the guy's chest. The dude looked terrified, and a little sick "Would you rather lose a lieutenant or your life?" She had snarled, sounding almost a bit demonic herself. The other boss had backed down without another word, writing off his subordinate as dead and gone.

Instead of killing the guy, however, Brambles simply banished her little guard dog to a corner of the warehouse to play with its new toy in peace.

"Is she allowed to do that?" Someone whispered.

"They weren't unionized, so the Goonion won't say anything." Another answered.

It was the most awkward meeting in the history of the criminal underworld. No one even died since they were all focused on the newcomer.

Jason could feel a headache forming as the meeting came to an end. Brambles was still sitting in her chair. The creature had grown bored of its toy and was leaning against her, sprawled out lazily and barely flicking an ear at the onlookers in acknowledgment. A few people were idling around her, mostly women, trying to talk some big game and get on the kid's good side. Brambles was humoring them, taking tight control of the conversation when they got too prying.

Jason sighed. He knew he'd have to go over and have a talk with the kid, even if it was just for Bruce's files. He hauled himself upwards and stalked over. "Pardon me, ladies and gents, but I'm going to borrow the kiddo here for a moment."

The creature hissed at him, tensed at his approach. Brambles kept a tight grip on the back of its muzzle, keeping it grounded. The other criminals scattered like flies. They were the only two (three?) left in the warehouse within minutes.

Bramble rose to glare at him. "What." She spat. "If you're here to convince me not to get involved with anything, I will set Grim on your ass after lighting it on fire."

The creature, Grim, growled in agreement. The sound echoed strangely like he was hearing it from underwater.

"Relax, I'm not here to do any of that." Jason raised his hands in surrender, immediately abandoning that possible line of thought. "I'm just here to talk business. You're young, and while you don't want to admit it, inexperienced."

"Stop the fancy words, Red Hood." Brambles' eyes glowed again, and she released her hold on Grim's muzzle. "If you want to make a deal, say it to my face. If you're here to dig for information, either ask me or hit the road. I prefer honesty over flower talk, so tell me what you want before I take over your area, too."

Jason bristled. His vision was tinted green as he snapped, "What the fuck is your problem, kid?! I just wanted to make sure you were safe and not being forced to do this. I was even going to offer my support and protection if it was too much! I know you aren't going to stop, but that doesn't mean I want a kid to die just because they got into something they shouldn't and they think their fancy guard dog will always be there to protect them!"

Brambles' eyes stopped glowing, and her stare softened a bit. Grim went deadly still, just floating there, staring at Jason. His heart beat like crazy in his chest. What was he saying? It was all true, but he could've been nicer about it. Dick would've found a way to be nicer.

-krrrk- "Ibis, reporting in. I think you can trust him, guys. Even if he's a Bat, his connections and experience would be useful in our plans. Ibis out." -krrrk-

Jason flinched from the sudden noise, looking around to find the source. It sounded like it had come from everywhere, even inside his own helmet. Brambles immediately switched out her hostile look for an annoyed one, tapping an earpiece he hadn't noticed before.

"Ibis, you really have to stop opening up our comm lines to the public." She snapped, but there was no real heat to it. "And I thought I told you to stop eavesdropping!"

-krrrk- "Sorry, can't help it. I'm everywhere now! You shouldn't have given me this power." -krrrk-

Grim hissed.

-krrrk- "Don't hiss at me, young man! You were the one who suggested this!" -krrrk-

"I'm sorry, time out!" Jason made a T with his hands. The green from his vision had completely disappeared now. "What the FUCK is going on now?"

Brambles sighed, rubbing her temples. "You know what? Fine. We'll trust you. My name is Sam. Nice to meet you, Jason Todd."

Jason stepped back, immediately reaching for his gun. Grim darted forward and promptly flew through him, stealing all his weapons in one go. "I'm Danny!" Grim-Danny?-chirped in a human voice, giving him a shit-eating smile. "Sorry for the act, Mr. Hood. And sorry about the name drop, I'm the one that told them."

-krrrk- "I'm Tucker! There are more of us, but they're busy. I have literally so many questions for you, Mr. Hood." -krrrk-

"Now that introductions are over-Danny don't eat his smoke bombs, you're not gonna look like Dorathea-we'd like your help."

Jason squinted at them. "You understand this is all suspicious as fuck, right? And how did a pit demon find out who I am?"

-krrrk- "Yeah, we know. But lives are on the line here, and I think you'd really be a help!" -krrrk-

Brambles-Sam-sighed and pulled out a flash drive. "I was going to use this as leverage, but I guess it'll have to be useful in other ways." She tossed it to Jason, who numbly caught it. "Look over it if you want. If you don't, then just burn it. Do not try to plug it into the Batcomputer. Don't try to send it to the Batcomputer, either. A virus will target that specific IP address as soon as it makes contact. Any other computer is fine."

"Look it over, and we can go from there," Danny added, spinning in midair while chomping on one of Jason's knives. (His good one, too!) "And I'm not a pit demon, but I am dead. That's how I knew about you. Whatever brought you back to life gave the Realms a real headache for a while. It wasn't hard to look you up in the records."

"This is so much information. Lives are on the line? And two, three kids are dealing with it? By becoming crime bosses?"

-krrrk- "Technically, Sam's the only crime boss here. And that was kind of an accident. She was supposed to create a safe foothold in Gotham in case we needed to evacuate our town. But we all got cool nicknames out of it! And you're the only adult we've told this stuff to!" -krrrk-

"I'm what?"

"The only adult." Sam's unwavering gaze seemed to pierce his soul. "There are quite literally no other adults that can help, Red Hood. None that we trust, not really. Any adult intervention needs to be planned carefully so it doesn't backfire on us. We're trusting you here, Jason. Not only are you like us, which technically puts you in danger too, but you have power and connections to support a whole town of people the government wants to eradicate."

Jason looked at the little green flash drive in his hand. He didn't want to ask. "And this...?"

"A fruit basket," Sam said simply. "Originally, it was supposed to be blackmail. But instead, this is a present to show our goodwill and faith. To show you our skills. That drive contains information on other gangs, upcoming rogue attacks, chemical breakdowns of Joker Venom and Fear Gas, unfinished antidote formulas, etc. Tucker and his team scoured the underbelly of Gotham and gathered dirt on every single prominent figurehead. Including Bruce Wayne, should you choose to use it."

"I would never-"

"But you've thought about it." Danny cut in and scratched his neck. Jason's hands shook. "It's not a bad thing. It's just the nature of the dead. Wanting to right the wrongs left over from their time with the living. Even if you walk and breathe now, that doesn't mean desire disappears."

"The point is, we need help. Even if I'm loathe to admit it." Sam rolled her eyes, and suddenly, Jason didn't see a potential supervillain in the making. He saw a teenager trying her best, shouldering the responsibility of hundreds of people, both in Gotham and her hometown. Danny looked the same, no matter how other-worldly he was. What battles were they facing? Why weren't there any adults to turn to? What kind of lives were they leading if they immediately trusted a known crime lord with their lives upon the first meeting?

"I'll think about it." Jason finally said. Danny trilled in excitement, and some tension bled out of Sam's shoulders. "If the situation is bad enough, however, I'm calling in someone else for help."

Danny shrugged. "As long as it ain't Batman! I don't think he'll appreciate us smuggling a town of liminals into his city."

Sam poked Danny's shoulder, prompting him to look at her. "Let's go, before you break his brain with more info-dumping. Bye Red Hood!"

"Uh, yeah. Goodbye!" Jason stuttered. He watched the two kids walk towards the exit door, before shimmering out of sight before they even touched the handle.

What the fuck.

#danny phantom #dpxdc #kinda strayed away from the prompt #and that's why its a separate post not a reblog #long post #not beta read #no beta we die like danny #pondhead writes #this leans into more of a ‘Sam did it on purpose but said it was an accident’#Tucker read the vibes from all the way in Amity and the other two just roll with it #Tucker: we can trust him #Sam: here’s our entire life story then #Danny: I hope you don’t mind us info-dumping :)#Danny will eat anything #he’s a growing boy! (hopefully)#he wanted to look like Dorathea when she’s a dragon #I cannot stress enough I don’t know shit about dc #so if someone is already in charge of the upper east side #then shut up Sam is their boss now #not continuing please don’t ask I will cry #someone else is free to take over from here #it’s literally just brain vomit to get myself going

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entomolog-t · 1 year

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Promptober repost of Cozy where the blush isn't all wack.

Looked fine on desktop but when I viewed it on mobile...

Screams.

Anyways!! Fixed it 🫡💖

#please for the love of all that is good in this world reblog this version and not the too much blush one 😭#g/t #giant/tiny #g/t art #g/t prompts #g/t artist #g/t fluff #wholesome giantess #entodraws #promptober #juneoc #Aedesoc #Bite Me #tiny vampire

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hd-fan-fair · 3 months

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H/D Muggle Fair 2024 Sign Ups/Prompt Claiming is Now Open!

>> Claim a Prompt Here! >> Check Out 250 Prompts to Claim Here! >> Sign Up As Podficcer Here!

Reminders:

Each prompt can be claimed once for art and once for fic. You may also claim both art and fic together.

Currently all 250 prompts are marked with “Available for Art & Fic”. They will be changed to “Available for Art”, “Available for Fic”, or “Not Available” under Prompt Availability accordingly.

You may claim your own prompt - we'll hold those prompts marked as "self-claimed" for a couple of days.

If you claim a prompt, please watch this comm, Tumblr, or our DW comm for updates on the H/D Fan Fair. Or join our discord here!

How prompt claiming is going to work:

If your first choice is not yet claimed, it’s yours! If your first choice is already claimed, you will get your second choice, and so on! It is fine to list only one choice!

The mods will email to confirm your claim as soon as we can. We will also be updating the table to indicate which prompts have been claimed for art, fic or both.

#drarry #drarry fic #harry potter #draco malfoy #draco malfoy/harry potter #hd fan fair #hd muggle fair #please help reblog to promote the fair #please signal boost!#drarry art #prompt claiming

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cityandking · 2 years

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oc asks: character design edition

FACE & FEATURES

glance: At first glance, what stands out most about your OC's appearance? What's their distinguishing feature?

face: Describe your OC's face. What's their smile like? Are their orbs cerulean? What would someone notice first when looking at them?

stature: What's your OC's body type? How tall are they? Do they wear clothing to accentuate their look or do they try to mask it?

motion: How does your OC move? How does their clothing help or hinder their range of motion? Are they flexible, coordinated, clumsy?

stillness: How does your OC act while still? Are they fidgety? Do they have any common gestures or tics? Does their clothing affect how they hold themselves while at rest?

canvas: Does your OC have any scars, piercings, tattoos, or other markings? Do they display or cover them up at all?

CUT & CLOTHES

night: What does your OC wear to sleep? Do they have a favorite pair of PJs, or are they more the birthday suit type?

day: What does your OC wear on a normal day? Why do they default to those clothes? Do they wear similar things, or do they change it up?

formal: What's your OC's formal look? Do they like dressing up? Do they have different looks for different occasions?

informal: What's your OC's lazy-day look? How do they like to dress when they're winding down?

outerwear: What's your OC's outerwear situation? Jacket, sweater, cloak? What sort of weather do they deal with most and how do they protect themselves?

footwear: What does your OC wear on their feet?

road: What does your OC wear while traveling? Do they have high-quality equipment, or are they making do? What does their gear look like?

armor: What kind of armor does your OC wear? Is it well kept? Bonus: where does it come from? Is there a story behind it?

arms: Does your OC have any weapons? What weapons do they carry, and how do they wear them when they're not fighting?

roots: Is your OC's look inspired by any specific style of clothing or fashion trend? What are the roots and/or inspiration for their look?

texture: Does your OC favor any specific kinds of cloth or textures? Is there anything they can't wear or don't like? What sort of fabrics do they prefer?

wardrobe: How big is your character's wardrobe? Do they wear things threadbare, or can they afford new clothes often? Are they any good at mending and repairing their own clothing?

ACCESSORIES & ACCENTS

bling: What jewelry does your OC wear? Does it have any meaning?

hair: How does your OC wear their hair? Does it have some kind of meaning?

makeup: Does your OC wear makeup? How often? What kind? Why do they wear makeup, and do they like it?

favorite: Does your OC have a favorite article of clothing or accessory? What is it? What's the meaning behind it? Do they wear it all the time or do they wear it sparingly to keep it safe?

change: Has your OC ever drastically changed their appearance? Significant haircuts, big tattoos, complete wardrobe swap, etc? Why? How do they feel about the change?

alternate: What would your OC's alternate universe look be? If they're a fantasy character, what's their modern look? If they're sci-fi, what's their fantasy look? What AU would you want to see your OC in, and how would they dress themself? Bonus: Prompt an AU!

#oc asks #oc ask meme #oc ask prompts #ask meme #ask game #muse prompts #roleplay ask meme #meme resource #please reblog!!!#I am simply obsessed with character design so I thought I'd make an ask meme #also I'm taking any and all of these for the kids :)#mine; ask meme #1k #5k

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walks-the-ages · 2 months

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I just realized I can do this today, so, for anyone who is able to donate €5 to this vetted fundraiser, I will write you a short scene for an Arsène Lupin story that you can send me a prompt for!

Arsène Lupin is (90%) in the Public Domain, and is one of the original trope-setters for "Gentleman Thieves" who Lupin III, Assane Diop, Kaito Kid, Persona 5, and more are based on! Even if you don't know anything about Lupin himself, if you love rouges with hearts of gold, donate €5 and send me a prompt :)

Donate a minimum of €5 to the Elsousy Family's fundraiser below, and send me proof of purchase along with your prompt!

Your prompt can be pretty much anything, from romance, fantasy, horror, etc, just know I won't write anything NSFW.

Depending on the prompt, I'll try to make each scene at minimum half-a-page in length, at Times New Roman size 18.

The more you donate, the longer I'll write!

I don't have tons and tons of free time, but I will keep a masterpost of any prompts I receive and their completion status.

Let's go!

8/8/2024: €4,418 raised of €42,000 goal

#free palestine #gaza #palestine #Arsene Lupin #donation drive #Donations for prompts #charity writing #reblog for more reach please :)#free gaza #public domain donation drive

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rainystarters · 1 year

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* ☔ : action prompts inspired by GOTHIC HORROR, DARK ACADEMIA, ETC. some prompts are usfw. add reversed for the muse receiving the meme to perform the action instead. ( adjust scenarios or specify details as needed. )

𝟶𝟷. sender sets a church on fire with the receiver still inside. 𝟶𝟸. sender presses a holy symbol into the receiver's flesh, burning them. 𝟶𝟹. sender declares themselves god to the receiver. 𝟶𝟺. sender begs the receiver for a blessing/prayer before night falls. 𝟶𝟻. sender licks their lips and tells the receiver to confess their sins. 𝟶𝟼. sender takes refuge from a storm with the receiver in an abandoned church. 𝟶𝟽. sender snarls at the receiver, unable to cross the threshold/onto holy ground. 𝟶𝟾. sender laughs, breaking a seal, ward, etc. set by the receiver to keep them out. 𝟶𝟿. sender recites a prayer with the receiver as the shadows darken and writhe. 𝟷𝟶. sender burns the receiver's holy oath away as they pledge themselves to the sender instead.

𝟷𝟷. sender practices calligraphy on the receiver's skin. 𝟷𝟸. sender refuses to speak with the receiver unless it's in a dead language. 𝟷𝟹. sender taps on the windowpane of a café from outside, alerting the receiver. 𝟷𝟺. sender leans over the receiver's writing and makes a noise of disagreement. 𝟷𝟻. sender intimately washes ink from the receiver's hands. 𝟷𝟼. sender worries over the receiver, who has not slept in days. 𝟷𝟽. sender hands the receiver coffee, having learned their favorite without asking. 𝟷𝟾. sender presses the receiver against a bookshelf, needing them now. 𝟷𝟿. sender kisses the receiver in a museum after it's closed. 𝟸𝟶. sender breathes on the receiver's neck as they pick a lock to the secret archives.

𝟸𝟷. sender bites into the receiver's (neck, thigh, etc.) and drinks their blood. 𝟸𝟸. sender's experiment succeeds and brings the receiver back to life. 𝟸𝟹. sender makes an offering at a crossroads to summon the receiver for a deal. 𝟸𝟺. sender digs themselves out from their grave as the receiver reacts in horror. 𝟸𝟻. sender kisses the receiver for a final time, in case their experiment goes wrong. 𝟸𝟼. sender confesses to the receiver that they've promised their firstborn in a deal. 𝟸𝟽. sender cuts their palm and the receiver's to swear a blood oath. 𝟸𝟾. sender forces the receiver to drink their latest alchemical creation. 𝟸𝟿. sender wakes up confused, having been turned into a vampire by the receiver. 𝟹𝟶. sender signs away their soul to the receiver in exchange for a boon.

𝟹𝟷. sender acts out an ancient ritual, with the receiver standing in as the sacrifice. 𝟹𝟸. sender burns the only copy of the receiver's thesis, book, etc. 𝟹𝟹. sender pours wine into the receiver's mouth as the bacchic party grows louder. 𝟹𝟺. sender confesses to the receiver that their parents have cut them off. 𝟹𝟻. sender and receiver try to wash the blood away, but the stain keeps growing. 𝟹𝟼. sender slips their hand under the receiver's clothes in the dark of the opera box. 𝟹𝟽. sender aims an arrow at the receiver and promises they won't hit them. 𝟹𝟾. sender complains to the receiver that a funeral will distract them from studying. 𝟹𝟿. sender dismisses the receiver's concerns that the summoning ritual may work. 𝟺𝟶. sender screams for help as the receiver begins to go mad from reciting the esoteric chant they discovered in a forgotten book.

𝟺𝟷. sender screams at the sight of the receiver's true face/form. 𝟺𝟸. sender offers to hide the receiver as the mob's torches grow nearer. 𝟺𝟹. sender is mesmerized by the receiver and goes to them despite all warnings. 𝟺𝟺. sender is stone-faced as the receiver cries that their lover is no monster. 𝟺𝟻. sender sharpens their blade as the receiver watches in horror. 𝟺𝟼. sender weeps as the receiver tells them they're leaving for the sender's good. 𝟺𝟽. sender proposes to the receiver to provide an alibi for the receiver's pregnancy, even though the child is not theirs. 𝟺𝟾. sender holds the receiver in their arms, the monster now dead. 𝟺𝟿. sender promises not to forget the receiver as they share a final night together. 𝟻𝟶. sender visits the receiver in dreams as they are separated by class, circumstance, etc. in waking life.

𝟻𝟷. sender calls out to the receiver from a distance, their voice echoing in the mist. 𝟻𝟸. sender covers the receiver's mouth as their stalker draws nearer. 𝟻𝟹. sender tells the receiver not to open their eyes until they've escaped the house. 𝟻𝟺. sender kisses the receiver passionately in the middle of a graveyard. 𝟻𝟻. sender tries to light a candle to comfort the receiver, but the flame turns black. 𝟻𝟼. sender locks all the windows and doors, promising the receiver they'll be safe. 𝟻𝟽. sender takes off their jacket and puts it around the receiver's shoulders. 𝟻𝟾. sender reaches out for the receiver's hand in the dark. 𝟻𝟿. sender finds the receiver abandoned for dead. 𝟼𝟶. sender grows confused as they cannot see the will-o'-the-wisps the receiver has begun to follow into the night.

𝟼𝟷. sender's laughter echoes through the halls as they stalk the receiver. 𝟼𝟸. sender lavishes praise upon the receiver's beauty, enraptured by the fresh blood seeping through the receiver's white dress, shirt, etc. 𝟼𝟹. sender catches the receiver snooping and tells them they've been bad. 𝟼𝟺. sender slumps to the floor, realizing the receiver has poisoned them. 𝟼𝟻. sender blindfolds the receiver, promising it's for their own good. 𝟼𝟼. sender locks the receiver in the attic, promising it's for their own good. 𝟼𝟽. sender sings a haunting lullaby to the receiver from the walls. 𝟼𝟾. sender looks in a mirror, unaware the receiver is watching from the other side. 𝟼𝟿. sender sighs, realizing the receiver has found the painting of their former lover—who is identical to the receiver. 𝟽𝟶. sender asks the receiver to swear upon their life that they will not enter the sender's private study, no matter what they hear inside.

#rp memes #rp prompts #action rp memes #rp starters #please don't read or reblog if gothic horror upsets you

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galadrieljones · 3 months

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Who are you now? (Post-DAI Inquisitor Writing Prompts)

Writing prompts for the Inquisitor, post-Trespasser, pre-Veilguard. Where are they now? Who are they now? Send one from each category to my ask box.

Setting

Ancient Ruin

Moonlit Beach

Dimly lit Tavern

Quiet Village

Hinterlands

Broken Palace

Haunted Forest

Traveler's inn

Bustling city street

Secluded Homestead

Object

music box

wash bowl

barn owl

tattered basket

oil lamp

cloth bandages

old map

leather coin purse

folded letter

broken clock

Emotion

exhausted

solemn

fearful

pensive

longing

hopeful

disappointed

uncertain

thirsty

surprised

Feel free to also specify anything else you'd like: situations, more specific locations in Thedas, questions, anything at all.

#Sene Lavellan #dragon age #dragon age: the veilguard #dragon age: inquisition #da:tv #da:i #please feel free to reblog and use freely #writing prompts #solavellan

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stiltonbasket · 1 year

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prompt: an au where wrh raises wwx, who is then forced to fight for the wens during the sunshot campaign.

“You are useless to me now,” Wen Ruohan says, contemplating his drink. “One little archer, one lucky shot—and my greatest hope after Wen Zhuliu has been ruined.”

The cup in his hand should have held wine: some of the clear, astringent liquor that Wen Qing favored, since it was a passable antiseptic in an emergency—but somehow, it had darkened to a deep, almost oily crimson, like the broth of the stewed lamb Wei Wuxian ate on the night before he rode out to Hejian.

He does not like to think of what his liege must be drinking now, and so he does not ask.

“Not useless,” Wei Wuxian says at last. “Wen Qing claims that a full bodily recovery—if it should take place at all—will come too late for this war effort, but I am still sound in mind. And that is at your service still, as much as it ever was.”

“That is some relief. I could have done without your mind, if I had your jindan and your strength; but since I am not to have either, your mind will have to do.”

Wei Wuxian nods, scarcely concealing the tremor in his fingers as he does so. When he arrived half a shichen ago, he was granted a chair instead of a patch of floor to kneel on, out of respect for his battle wound; but drawing breath in Wen Ruohan’s presence has never been easy, in spite of the fact that the man would likely rather cut off his own right hand than harm him, and the Lan-made poison eating away at Wei Wuxian’s veins has only made matters worse.

“Wei Ying.”

Wei Wuxian blinks. “My lord.”

“That concubine of yours, the one that serves you on the battlefield—what is his name?”

His heart stutters in his chest. “Yu Zhenhong, junshang. I have only two, and Yu-shi is the only man.”

“He should have thrown himself before that arrow, rather than suffer any risk to you,” Wen Ruohan snarls, dashing the white-jade cup upon the tiled ground at his feet. “He is a man, and all he can do for the continuation of your line is to ensure the continuation of your life—and if the arrow struck true, and you had been slain, who would have taught your yiniang’s child in your place?”

Painfully, Wei Wuxian lifts himself out of his chair and sinks to his knees on the floor.

“It was I who rode ahead of Yu-shi that day. The rest of the regiment would have come to harm, if he had followed me,” he says, bent so low that he can feel the coolness of the tiles on his forehead. “On his behalf—and on behalf of my yiniang, for Lady Li is close to her time, and any harm done to one of our household could injure her, or my child—I beg that you show him mercy.”

A sharp pain sparks under one of his fingers. He lifts it from the ground, and notes with dull surprise that his skin had been pierced by a shard of Wen Ruohan’s jade cup.

Wen Ruohan pinches the bridge of his nose.

“Very well, then. I will not give him any corporal punishment, for the sake of your yiniang’s peace of mind. But he must be punished somehow, and you are far too soft-hearted to do it properly.”

“My lord—”

“He is your favorite, is he not?” Wen Ruohan says idly. “You care for Li Shuai, and surround her with all the luxuries a man of your rank can afford. But Yu Zhenhong is the one who follows you to battle, the one you take into your confidence; so must he not be the one closest to your heart?”

“Yes.” The word feels like whetted steel on his tongue.

“Good,” his liege says, smiling. “Yu-shi has forgotten where he stands; and so, he must be reminded. He is not your husband—will never be your husband, for in all these years I have found no man or maiden worthy of being joined with you in marriage—but I think it would break his heart if I were to gift you another concubine. He tolerates Li-yiniang, because she can give you children, but if you were to take in another man...”

Wei Wuxian thinks wretchedly of the night Li Shuai and Yu Zhenhong came to his manor in the Nightless City, having run so long that Yu Zhenhong’s feet were bleeding, and begged for shelter: any way you can grant it, Yu Zhenhong had said, swaying on his injured feet as he supported Li Shuai. Any way, Wei-jiangjun—Brother Wei—A-Shuai can travel no further, I beg of you—

“May Wen-zongzhu’s will be done. I accept,” Wei Wuxian murmurs aloud, lifting his head to look Wen Ruohan in the eye. “Who is it to be?”

Wen Ruohan waves a dismissive hand.

“I’ll introduce you to him tomorrow,” he says, with a grin that makes his too-long front teeth shimmer in the yellow lamplight. “But you need not fear for your own sake, Wei-jiangjun. After all, your Yu-shi could not rival this one for beauty if he tried for the rest of his life.”

_____

“A concubine? For Wei-jiangjun? Has Father lost his mind?”

Two figures in red were standing in the dungeons of the Sun Palace, by the very last cell in the deepest of the six underground keeps. Its lone inhabitant had been languishing there for a month, not permitted to set foot outside his prison save when he was dragged to the torture chambers; and even when the tendons in his legs were slashed, some twelve days earlier, he remained so impassive that the head torturer began to wonder if he could feel the pain at all.

Wen Xu lifts his torch and examines the prisoner.

“I suppose he’s good-looking enough,” he shrugs, suppressing a shiver as the torchlight moves over Lan Wangji’s unblinking eyes. “His nephew was the archer who brought General Wei down at Hejian, so Fuqin must think that marrying Lan Wangji to Wei-jiangjun is a fitting punishment—for the uncle and nephew both.”

In the shadows of the cell, Lan Wangji’s bloodied hands curl over a splinter of stone he had torn away from the walls.

He has been shaping it for the last fortnight, filing it against the reinforced rock of the floor until the top end had been ground to a razor-sharp point. Before his legs were broken, he intended to use it to pick the lock of his cell door and escape, but now...

“Tian ah,” Wen Chao whispers, apparently under the impression that Lan Wangji was in a meditative trance, and thus unable to hear him. “I don’t fancy Lan Wangji’s chances in the Wei-fu. Wei-jiangjun was furious when Wen Qing found out about the poison in his jindan.”

But now his escape had been planned for him.

Lan Wangji’s grasp on the splinter grows tighter.

“When will it be?” asks Wen Chao.

“Three days from now.”

Three days.

Lan Wangji looks up at the ceiling of his cell, and then down at the sharp piece of rock in his palm.

He has crossed paths with General Wei only twice: once in the Cloud Recesses twenty years previously, when the young Wei-jiangjun attended Lan Qiren’s summer lecture courses, and then again on the battleground in Hejian where he was taken prisoner thirty days ago.

Until that fateful battle, he could not have picked General Wei out of a crowd if his life depended on it: but that night, Lan Wangji dreams of a hauntingly lovely face lost in sleep mere inches away from his own, and the trembling of his hands as his makeshift knife plunges into his bridegroom’s throat.

#wangxian #mo dao zu shi #the untamed #wei wuxian #lan wangji #wen ruohan #i guess i'll call this the #wrh raises wwx au #👀👀👀👀#please reblog this if you liked it/want more :3 #my fic #also for anyone who was worried li shuai and yzh are married #they are False Concubines™️#but lan wangji will not find this out until MUCH later #prompt fill

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thefreakandthehair · 11 months

Text

@eddiemonth prompt, oct 30th: Costumes | Children of the Grave - Black Sabbath | Loyal [1.9k, rated T] read on ao3 + masterpost | tumblr masterlist

“No, no, no, no—” Gareth protests, ducking the Donkey costume mask that Eddie tosses his way backstage. “Not again! Dude, that thing smells like having a condom over your face and it’s impossible to drum in. I’m not doing it this year. No way. Someone else is taking one for the team this time.”

Eddie cackles, trying not to cry with laughter and smudge his green face paint. “Decide amongst yourselves then, but someone is wearing it. We’ve gotta commit.”

Jeff snorts and shakes his head. “No chance, why can’t someone be like, Fiona or something?”

“We need Donkey! He’s crucial to the story!” Eddie rolls his eyes and walks over to grab the mask. “Okay, circle up. We’re gonna Rock, Paper, Scissors this. On my count.”

The rest of the band huddles around and Eddie counts to three. Gareth throws rock and celebrates as Frank and Jeff both throw scissors.

“Redemption!” He celebrates as Eddie counts Frank and Jeff in for three.

In the end, Frank gets stuck with the Donkey costume, Jeff reprises his Pinocchio costume, and Gareth steals Farquaad out from under Frank in the Rock, Paper, Scissors coup. No one is particularly happy, but Eddie doesn’t care.

He doesn’t care because Shrek Night is his favorite show of the year. Since its inception a few years earlier, entirely by accident when Eddie was forced to perform as Shrek as a dare, it’s become something of a cult classic among Corroded Coffin fans. The last show they play before Halloween is a costume night, and the fans have taken to the theme like, well, like an ogre to mud.

There’s something incredibly special about screaming the lyrics to their latest hit while a sea of Shreks and Gingys and Fionas scream along with him.

And tonight is no different.

—

“Shreddie! Shreddie! Shreddie!”

The crowd roars to life as the group takes the stage, waddling in costumes and maybe a little itchy from body paint and latex masks.

“Give it up for Donkey on the bass!” Eddie shouts, pointing to Frank. He gives his best, saddest wave.

“Give it up for Pinocchio on the guitar!” He yells again as Jeff hammers a riff in response and grins in his fedora and suspenders.

“And last but certainly not least, give it up for Lord Farquaad on the drums!” Gareth drums a little rimshot as the hat pokes out over the top of his high hat. How he plans on drumming the whole night crouched on his knees is beyond Eddie, but ultimately not up to him.

The crowd goes insane, as usual, and Eddie takes a second to soak it all in, to glance over the various costumes before everyone melds into one collective unit of chaos. Fairy Godmothers, and Donkeys, and Fionas as far as the eye can see. He even spots a Puss in Boots in the front of the pit, standing next to a very attractive Gingy.

He doesn’t have time to assess the life choices that lead him to have that particular thought though, because Gareth starts counting them in.

—

Their originals are hits, of course, as are the covers. After all, it wouldn’t be a true Shrek Night without at least a couple of songs from the famed movies.

“And then I saw her face!” He shrieks, his voice barely loud enough to be heard over the crowd. “Now I’m a believer!”

He runs around the stage, careful not to lose the microphone (again) as Jeff, Gareth, and Frank pound away at the melody. As the song comes to a close, Eddie slides on his knees, hardly protected by the cheap beige pants from Walmart, to the edge of the stage.

“Not a trace! Of doubt in my mind! I’m a believer!” He sings, drawing out the final note.

Chants and applause follow him up and he falls to his back, guitar over his chest, pounding his feet and fists on the stage as he catches his breath. Green paint melts from his forehead and when he brushes his hair back, he pulls his fingers away to see shades of ogre paint that’s surely made its way into his hairline.

Before he can stand, Gareth shouts into his microphone, presumably to give Eddie another second or two. It’s no secret that I’m A Believer is high octane.

“Do you know…” Gareth pauses for effect before shouting. “The muffin man?”

Before the crowd yells out together, jumbled and out of sync, a faux high-pitched voice rings out surprisingly close to Eddie’s feet.

“The muffin man!”

He sits up and spots him: the hot Gingy he’d noticed earlier, laughing with a scrunched up nose, leaning on his friend’s shoulder.

Oh, fuck me, Eddie thinks. He’s adorable.

It’s usually the other way around: Eddie being ogled by a fan in the front row, staring up at him like he’s something to eat, like he’s prey. Ignoring them is easy enough, typically appeased with just a smile or a wink to carry with them forever, but this guy? The one with the fuzzy brown onesie with purple button and white, pretend icing lining the legs and waist? Well, Eddie’s never actually wanted a fan in the front row to look at him until now.

So he scoots to the end of the stage, legs dangling over the edge, and steals Gareth’s line. Grinning down at the guy pressed to the railing, he screeches. “The muffin man!”

Gingy’s friend, known only to him at this point as Puss in Boots, elbows him hard in the ribs and he looks up to see Eddie staring right at him, crooked grin, and in hindsight, probably a bit more unhinged than planned.

His friend looks back and forth between them, disbelief in the shape of her mouth and furrowed forehead, but it seems to work because Gingy returns the smile and has the audacity to wink at him.

Eddie raises his green brows towards his hairline and nods appreciatively. The barricade isn’t far from the edge of the stage, close enough for Eddie to leave the microphone to the side and ask Gingy and his friend to hang back after the show.

—

After one crowdsurfing escapade from Jeff, one quip into the microphone from Gareth about how he now understands why Farquaad is always so cranky, and few more of the originals peppered with All Star and Bad Reputation covers, Corroded Coffin takes an awkward but well-deserved bow. The crowd cheers for more, even after their encore, but eventually filter out through the venue’s exit doors, flooding the parking lots and nearby streets with Shrek characters.

Eddie’s sure the local bars are having a blast.

The only fans left are Gingy and Puss in Boots, who Eddie desperately needs the real names of before his thoughts turn into a troubling Shrek fanfiction. With a quick word to their manager, Chrissy, he makes sure they won’t leave before he comes back with a plan— a very weird, very niche plan that he hopes works on the presumably dorky, albeit confident, man in the fuzzy onesie.

Her wings bump him in the shoulder and remind him that she truly is his Fairy Godmother.

“Eddie,” Jeff deadpans as he plops his prop fedora on the backstage table and unfastens the buttons of his suspenders. “Are you really about to go hit on a fan? Dressed as Shrek? With an onion?”

“Do you have a better idea?” He whirls on him, a lone onion from a backstage fridge somewhere in one hand and a sponge trying to at least clean up his face paint in the other. He’s sure he looks insane. And he may as well be at this point.

“Uh, don’t? That’s the better idea?” Frank offers in the corner, his face red and sweaty from the suffocating Donkey mask.

“Not an option, so Operation Onion is on. I’ll be back. Or not. Hopefully not, actually.” Eddie shakes his head and sets down the makeup sponge, places the onion in his prop burlap bag. “Wish me luck!”

Gareth sighs with ice packs on his knees. “Nope.”

—

Eddie approaches the open backstage area, the spare lounge where Chrissy’s talking with Gingy and Puss in Boots. Maybe talking a little more intently to Puss in Boots, but he can’t begrudge her. After all, Eddie’s doing the same thing, isn’t he?

He catches a bit of the conversation before opening the door, overhearing Chrissy refer to them as Steve and Robin.

Thank God, he thinks to himself. Better than the placeholders.

By no means does Eddie consider himself a rockstar— not yet, anyways. He enjoys the mid-level shows he gets to do with his friends, especially on nights like this, but he’s yet to harness that rockstar swagger. At his core, he’s still the marginally insecure, frantic kid from Bumfuck Nowhere, Indiana who paints D&D miniatures and speaks Elvish. And dresses up as Shrek, apparently.

All of that to say, his heart pounds in his chest and his tongue feels twisted around itself when he knocks on the door.

“Oh, hey, Eddie! Come on in! Great show tonight!” Chrissy smiles, wide and bright, as she introduces Steve and Robin. “This is Steve, and this is Robin. Steve, Robin, you all know Eddie. Or, should I say, Shreddie?”

All three groan and shake their heads in good nature.

“To be fair, man, you are still in the get-up. I thought you were going backstage to change or something.” Steve teases, eyes full of mirth and challenge.

Exactly Eddie’s type.

“And leave the three of you dressed up and feel out of place? Not a fucking chance.” Eddie takes a breath and goes for it, channeling his years of drama and general theatrics.

He goes to take his seat on the sofa and pretends to trip, his burlap bag tipping over in time for his onion to fall to the floor at Steve’s feet.

“Shit, sorry, that’s my onion,” Eddie shrugs. “Happens sometimes. Ogre and all, y’know? By the way, you’re gorgeous.”

“Oh my God,” Chrissy mutters under her breath and ducks her head, leaning an elbow on Robin’s shoulder and covering her eyes.

Steve’s mouth falls open into a little O and sits quietly for a few beats, nothing but the girls chuckling off to the side and an onion between them. Eddie’s about to swallow his tongue and see himself out when Steve leans forward and picks it up, tossing it up in the air above his head and catching it like a baseball.

“Looks like you dropped this. And uh, thanks. I could say the same to you.”

Robin wheezes and doubles over. “Jesus Christ, Steve. I know I’m a lesbian and all but this? This is what works on you?”

Eddie likes her already, and a quick glance to Chrissy tells him Chrissy does, too.

“Is this Ogre discrimination? Do I have to explain that we have—”

“Layers!” Steve finishes for him, nudging her in the ribs. “Ogres have layers, Rob. Don’t be so close-minded, God. Besides, he’s half melted and just ransacked backstage for an onion. Don’t judge our mating rituals.”

Mating rituals? Eddie grins with pursed lips and narrowed eyes. “Yeah, what he said.”

Robin just shakes her head and gestures with one hand at the air between the two men, speechless.

“Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m gonna go see if this sweaty, half-melted, babbling Onion Man wants to make out or something.” Steve slaps his hands on his thighs, still covered in fuzzy material, and stands. “What do you say?”

When he shows up backstage to introduce Steve to the rest of Corroded Coffin, both of their faces are now smeared with green paint and Steve sports painted handprints in some telling places.

Eddie gives them a bright smile and jazz hands, his friends’ expressions are as impressed as they are confused.

Shrek Night really is his favorite show of the year.

tagging people who expressed interest <3: @cuips-not-cute @just-my-latest-hyperfixation @useless-nb-bisexual @kkpwnall@cuoredimuschio @doublecherrypiediscosuperfly@ohmagicalunicornlord @hellion-child @bxnsheeslxdia @pomegranatebb @vampeddie @horsegirleddiemunson @stobinesque @sidekick-hero @medusapelagia @slipperygiraff @epiclazershark @bayouteche thank you to @nostalgicbones for beta-reading and inspiring this!

#steddie #steddie fic #steddie fanfic #steddie fanfiction #eddie munson #steve harrington #eddie month #stranger things #stranger things fic #stranger things fanfic #stranger things fanfiction #corroded coffin #myblurbs #eddie month prompts #buckingham if you squint #please consider reblogging if you enjoy <333 #(pls don't let this one flop i had so much fun writing it)

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