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captainderyn · 1 month

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For the 'hit 'em where it hurts' starters: 'I hate the way that I don’t hate you.'

Oooh thank you for sending this in! This is begging for me to write Judy/V in endgame/right after the final mission.

*Usual disclaimer that I don't really know what my ending is going to be for V yet, so this is just stuffing all the bits and pieces together that I like into one ending. No Phantom Liberty spoilers because I haven't played it yet, but spoilers for the final mission of the main game :)

V/Judy: "I hate the way I don't hate you."

Judy was drowning beneath the neon lights of Night City.

Once upon a time she'd worn the suffocating anonymity of the city like a cloak, sank into the comfort of not being known, and thrown herself into the violent game the city played with its residents.

Now those same skyscrapers that had once promised opportunity were a neon gilded cage and the faceless anonymity she'd graved threatened to suffocate her.

But more than ever V gobbled up the lights and commotion up like a fire inhaled oxygen.

Raging, gulping every morsel of fuel into an inferno. Something that would burn bright for only a short time. Her fuse was lit and she was burning, burning, burning.

Something had happened that day that V called Judy from the rooftop of Vik's clinic. That call haunted Judy, snuck into her dreams and rang in her ears. She'd been distracted, searching for something around her apartment, and it hadn't been until the ragged edge to V's voice fully sank in that she'd tuned in.

So yeah, maybe she'd told V to be careful, maybe she'd told V that she'd be home waiting. But what if she'd said something different? Something that would've kept V from doing whatever it was she was planning, something that would've kept V from coming back a shell of who she'd used to be.

There was an emptiness in V’s eyes now. No matter how often she smiled at Judy, it never lit up the rest of her face. Her laughter was hollow, when it came at all.

She was just going through the motions. Raging through the city wearing the only persona she knew: merc.

With Johnny being gone, Judy would have thought that V would have lit up again. That without the engram eating away at her, she'd come back into the voraciously lively woman that Judy had met before the heist.

But the Johnny Problem hadn't seemed to be a problem at all. V mourned Johnny like she lost her closest friend, like she'd lost part of herself.

It came to a head in V's apartment, the one she'd unceremoniously moved all her stuff into after coming back from Arasaka Tower. V sat in a plush chair in the corner of the room, lacing up her boots. Or had been, but now they lay half laced, as she said the same words over and over again that drove Judy insane:

"I can't leave Night City, Judy, this city is part of who I am."

She hated that phrase, the excuse that V always fell back on. This city had eaten her up and spat her out so many times. There was nothing good in this city left to stay for but V just wouldn't get it.

"I hate this." Judy finally snapped, "I hate that I can't bring myself to hate you when you do this every single time." Judy ducked her head, the chromatic curtain of her hair sweeping over her eyes. She hoped it would mask the way her lips twisted, the way her eyes burned white-hot with tears.

She whistled out a hissing breath from behind her teeth, trying to pour concrete into her words to bolster them, "I want to hate you so much. You are a goddamn ticking time bomb and you made me love you. I could be halfway across the country by now, living outside of this stupid fucking city, but you've tethered me here and I'm going to be here until all that's left of you is an alcove and I'm going to have to pick up the pieces."

The words rushed out, so many armed with a viscous stinger. A deep part of her wanted the words to hurt, wanted them to land like glass shards in V's heart the way that the thought of losing her wedged its way into Judy.

V sank into the chair, eyes wide. Her jaw set. "I never asked you to love me. I've never asked you to stay."

"We talked about leaving!" Judy gestured out towards the skyline before locking her arms around herself, hugging herself in a vice of her own making, "After all this was over, we talked about leaving and yet we're still here."

It wasn't fair, not really, to pull this from the water beneath the bridge. Out of nowhere. But she'd woken up to V in the bathroom again this morning, wiping blood from the corner of her mouth with a towel, looking like hell and with it brought the ticking clock crashing back down onto her.

V stared at her in silence, eyes darting across her face.

Judy sucked in a shuddering breath.

"I think I made a mistake."

If V wouldn't pull the ripcord, then she'd do it herself. Pull her walls back up inch by agonizing inch.

"Jude, what do you mean? Where is this coming from?"

V tilted her head, the rust-worn dog tags around her neck clinking together. Judy stared at those, used those as a bolster as she grit her teeth and pushed forward. Each word fell measured, like stepping on ice lightly to make sure it wouldn't break before putting your full weight on it.

"I'm just...I'm starting to realize that I've never felt right here."

The silence V held for Judy to speak, the quiet patience that Judy had once adored when she was rocked to the core from Evelyn's death and just needed to let words lose grated on her. She'd flung daggers at V with her words, why wouldn't she fling them back? Why wouldn't she make this easier?

"I thought I liked being one among the many. Anonymous. It felt safe for me. But none of that was real. But now I look at this city and I feel..." She rung her hands together, running her thumbs along the ink wrapping across her skin, "It doesn't feel safe anymore, V, I feel alone."

V pushed herself more upright, as if to get up, to come over to Judy. Judy turned half a step away, staring hard out the window and watching V's reflection as she sank back down into the chair.

Leaning her elbows on her knees, V reached out a hand to Judy, "You have me."

And there it was, the crack in V's voice that Judy had been fighting to get. The first chip that would make the rest of this so much easier. She ignored V's outstretched hand, crossing her arms over her chest instead.

"Yeah, I guess. For a little while longer." Her stomach flipped as she spoke into existence the inevitability. The day when she'd wake up and V wouldn't. When she'd have to put her name on a cold concrete niche.

She'd always kept time for herself in phases. Each one ending when she pulled the plug, meeting every disappointment and home-that-wasn't-really-a-home by pulling away from it before it could leave her. This phase ending waking up next to a cold body...

"Listen, V," She spoke the woman she'd loved, no, had loved, if she had any control of her emotions, the only way she knew she'd understand: like a business woman. Maybe if she could pull the long-dormant corpo out of V then she could ignore the wet glisten in V's eyes. "You pulled me back into this city far longer than I should've stayed. I need to find something better, something more...stable."

She didn't pull the corpo out of V. She pulled tears, running thick and hot down V's cheeks in silent streams. It should have twisted a knife in Judy, she should have begged to take the words back. All it did was wash cold relief through her. The more irreparable she left these pieces the less it would hut when she inevitably stopped hearing from V, or worse, received the call that she was too scared to hear.

"I don't want you to disappear, Jude, not now. I need you, I love you. Please." V sucked in a ragged breath, choking down what sounded painfully like a sob. "I've lost everyone else, please don't make me lose you too."

But there was no reconsideration, no miracle 'I'll come with you. Let's get out of this city'. Judy didn't even know if she'd have wanted it even if V had offered. In fact, some coiled part of her eased at the thought of leaving it all behind.

Leaving the brilliantly vibrant women in front of her behind and getting out of the radius before she went nuclear, just like every other good thing in Night City did.

"You have your place in this city, let me find mine outside of it." Judy looked to the ground so she didn't have to look at V's face as she delivered what she hoped would be the fatal blow, "It's been a nice phase, V, you've meant so much to me. But it's just a phase that's destined to end, just like everything else."

V muffled a sob in her hand, drawing her knees to her chest and folding in on herself. She kept her fist there, pressed against the lips that Judy used to kiss with such giddy reverence, and stared hard out the window until her tears were silent tracks down her cheeks.

"Okay." V finally said in the soft rustling of Judy grabbing her things, tossing them haphazardly in a bag, "I...I'm sorry, Jude."

Judy didn't know what to do with that, didn't know where that fit in with the broken pieces of their relationship she'd just strewn across the floor. So she slung her back over her shoulder and let the door hiss behind her in a quiet click of finality.

#captainderyn writes #prompt fill #hit em where it hurts prompts #cyberpunk 2077 #cyberpunk 2077 fanfic #judy alvarez #judy/v #female V #cyberpunk v #cp2077 #oc: V #otp: Borrowed Time Beneath City Lights #I think that's my final choice for their ship name lol #look at me giving myself feels over them ahaha this hurt to write #sorry not sorry this is another cyberpunk piece :)

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96percentdone · 1 year

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Oh, this is going to be a fun one! (I hope.) Not necessarily romantic (but you can if you want!!) 14 or 22 for Larry and Edgeworth! (Ace Attorney)

Asks that remind me I never uploaded my Larry Zine fic to Ao3. Did that by the time you get this prompt fill, but Here's that for those who have not seen it. On with the main event!

14. phone call and 22. reunion hug

Although Miles has spent more time far across the ocean than here—speaking German in quaint little towns with clear skies, winding waterways, and unique historical architecture—Los Angeles with its sea of skyscrapers and palm trees mixed with shrines and Japanese street food stands is still the only city he truly calls home. It’s good to be back—or at least it would be were he not stranded at LAX for the past several hours with no ride in sight. He wants to sleep in his own bed! For god’s sake, what could be taking him so long?

Bzzzzt. Through the many layers of his suit and coat, his phone vibrating is still more felt than heard in the endless noise of Terminal B. It doesn’t last long. “What happened?”

“Not even a hello? Rude!” whines the voice on the other end, loud enough Miles has to pull the phone away from his ear despite the surrounding cacophony.

“Butz, I was on a flight for 12 hours in a cramped economy seat, and now I’m sitting on my suitcase in an airport terminal. You try being congenial in these circumstances.”

“Listen man—” Larry starts, and a horn blares from nearby him, “—the traffic out here is TERRIBLE! What do you want from me? It’s like Moozilla vs Gourdy levels of people trying to leave town, and then the car—” Another horn. Again? Larry pulls away from the mic and yells, “Hey, watch it, buddy! I’m right here!”

A horrible thought strikes him, accompanied by the image of a beat up Honda CR-V smashed like an accordion against a highway K-rail: “Please tell me you are not still behind the wheel.”

“What? No!” Thank god. “I’m crossing the street! These guys are crazy out here! They almost hit me with a car!”

“Well, those are LA drivers for you,” Miles drawls with the faintest hint of a smirk. He really ought to stop underestimating Larry; although his choices are usually dubious, he agreed to pick him up on short notice when no one else would.

“They’re out for blood! My life is at stake!”

“I’m sure you will survive the perils of crossing the street.”

“What about the guys riding the curb? Nowhere is safe! I might not have any feet after this! And I don’t think you know how to drive American cars…”

What kind of ridiculous assumption is that? It’s just a car! It can’t be that different! “Just hurry up.”

“I’m doing my best!” Larry yells. “Why didn’t you get a cab? Most people do.”

“I had not planned to return home this soon, and…” How could he? Who would have expected this? And only a mere two weeks after Miles swore to reform the entire legal system! As soon as the news graced his phone screen, well…let’s just say he panicked, and after an uncountable number of rejected calls and going straight to voicemail before that too was turned off, he booked the soonest flight home without regard to logistics; it only occurred to him mid-flight he does not have means to get home. “I was not quite thinking clearly.”

“He really provokes something else in you, huh?” The who remains unspoken. For his numerous idiosyncrasies and struggles with basic logic, for matters of the heart, Larry is strikingly intuitive. Though Miles did not once say why he was already back home in that call sitting in the back of the plane waiting to get out, the wobbling wave weaved through every word must have given him away.

There’s a pause—1…2…3—then a sigh. “Yes.”

“Yeah, I get it,” Larry says, in a quiet voice, or at least as quiet as he can manage in the interminable noise of LAX’s international terminal. “It’s good you came back.”

‘I agree’, Miles thinks. ‘I had to,’ he affirms. ‘Was there any other choice?’ he asks. ‘It is the least I can do to pay him back for all he’s done for me,’ he confesses. ‘I may not be able to do much more than this; the undertaking I’ve begun is so massive, and already I’ve lost one of my greatest allies,’ he worries. ‘I did not envision beating back this darkness alone,’ he despairs. ‘But I must,’ he resolves. ‘Perhaps it’s fitting that my work begins with changing the legal world to bring him back.’

“Mm.” A grunt will have to suffice. He’s sure that Larry understands that without it being spoken as well.

Larry says something indecipherable, muffled by something blocking the microphone, but before Miles can ask him to repeat it, there’s a shout and an abrupt click. “Now who is being rude,” he grumbles, looking up from his phone right as an orange track suit comes rocketing towards him.

“Edgeyyy!!!” He yells, loud enough to turn the heads of several tourists, although if he notices, it affects him not one whit.

“You’re causing a scene,” Miles says, giving a pointed glance to the other stragglers loitering in this corner who are now gawking at Larry as he jumps over suitcases and sprints across the tile floor.

To his surprise, Larry actually listens, skidding to a sudden stop with an “Oops!” about five feet away, and the tourists return their attention elsewhere. “I was gonna give you a welcome back hug, but then I figured you don’t really like that kinda thing.”

“A good assumption,” Miles says and picks himself off his luggage. Everything is still here—yes. Exactly where it should be. “Alright. We should make haste.” I cannot bear this noise for even one second longer.

But Larry says nothing and remains firmly rooted in place even as Miles starts wheeling his way out; whereas before he wore a smile too big for his face, now his mouth is curved into an uneasy half-frown.

“What’s wrong?”

“Sorry. I was just thinking about something.”

Normally, Miles would say, ‘a rarity,’ but with that wavering misty gaze, it’s clear now is not the time for snark. “About…?”

“I’ve never been to this part of the terminal before. Y’know. For arrivals.”

That’s it? But Miles bites his tongue. Obviously, that is not merely it, but what it is is beyond him. Miles is nothing like Larry; for him, emotions are an enigma beyond understanding. And I have no evidence to work with! Well, that’s not strictly true. Think! His phrasing suggests Larry’s been here for departures, and yet never the return. That’s not how traveling works—you have to return home—but Miles didn’t take him as the traveling type for several reasons, so that only leaves… “Ah.”

Miles has never given much thought to Larry’s myriad relationships. They never last very long; he can hardly remember any of his former girlfriends’ names, only that they tend to be models and actresses, and at some point, without fail, they leave to travel abroad. Presumably, they must come back, in the same way Miles does, but…not for him. They never come back to him.

Passengers from the latest arrival pour out from the hallway out of customs and into the lobby in droves, reuniting with their loved ones waving them down with enthusiastic shouts of “Welcome home!” Not far from them, a middle-aged man welcomes a girl home, perhaps his daughter, with outstretched arms, and she tackles him with a laugh.

“Anyway, we can head out,” Larry starts, speeding towards the exit but without the bombast from earlier, “but I gotta warn you it’s really bad out—”

“Larry.” Deep breaths. Inhale. Exhale. You can manage this.

“What?” Larry says. He hasn’t stopped.

“Come here.” His arms move like they belong to a rusted machine, disjointed, clunky and slow and slow, and Miles has never felt less in control of his limbs before. How does anyone do this?

“Why? Aren’t we leaving? I thought you wanted to go home.”

“Butz so help me—”

“Dude, make up your mind—” But Larry’s words putter out once he finally turns around, and he stands there with his mouth still hanging open. It flaps, open, then less, again and again as he tries yet fails to speak.

Yes, I know I look ridiculous! This was a terrible idea! What is he doing? Why is he doing this? Yes, they’re friends, but it’s not like he can fix it! He didn’t come home for Larry’s sake either, so isn’t this a meaningless, symbolic gesture of pity? What’s the point?

“Edgeeeeyyyy!!!,” Larry cries, and once again barrels across the airport terminal, crashing into Miles at full force, almost knocking them to the floor were it not for Miles’ luggage behind them, but despite the strength of the crash, the hug itself is gentle. Enthusiastic, but gentle. “I missed you, man!!”

“I was not even gone a week.” The rust in his arms slowly falls away when Miles hugs him back.

“Still!” Larry says as he steps back with a sniff. “Only you can make offering a cheer-up hug look like struggling to lift 200 pounds.”

“Nnngghhh—” Must he say it so bluntly? Curse his intuition!

But Larry’s impossibly big smile from earlier is back, so maybe this humiliation is okay. “It’s good to be back, right?”

Yes, it is. Los Angeles is a mess of skyscrapers and shrines and endless horrific traffic, a city rife with corruption that stretches deep into the foundation of government, yet just as filled with people who would drop everything to come get him, no matter how ill-tempered and emotionally inarticulate he is. “Yes, it is.” Thank you.

Larry waves him off. Once again, Miles is understood without speaking.

#hope.txt #miles edgeworth #larry butz #ace attorney #my fic #this was fun to write!#idea changed a lot in the span of writing it but im content with the final product #i think larry and miles have a fun dynamic #and honestly i dont often get to write gen when doing prompt fills so #thanks for requesting this!#im an overachiever if i get a choice between 2 for one dynamic i'll give you both at the same time #two for the price of one! jnhgfcvhbjn

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love-bokumono-fics · 9 days

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April 2024 Casual Prompt

The polls have closed and the results are in and this month's Casual Prompt is...

First Kiss!

💋💋💋

We love this moment as writers don't we? The heart-pounding when two characters have finally begin discussing their feelings and then they lean in close and the next thing anyone knows they're kissing their sweetheart. It's the moment that can launch a romance. It might even be followed by an "Oh... oh." moment.

Of course there's many ways to interpret the prompt. Will you write one character's first ever kiss as a youngster? The first kiss between two characters who have been pining for each other for far too long? The kiss given in jest or as play that reveals more than either party was expecting? There are so many ways to take this prompt!

This being a very casual event, you can create whatever you want based off the prompt. Write a long fic or a short fic. Make it shippy or gen. Draw a sketch, or a comic, or paint a whole canvas.

Whatever strikes your fancy!

Make something that you want to make, something you can have fun with! Flex your muscles, stretch your wings, try something new, experiment, go wild! Or use this as a soft landing ground, a place for you to come back and rest in your comfort zone while you work on other projects. Fill the prompt once, fill it twice, do it a dozen times if you’re feeling up to it! There are no rules, just have fun!

You don’t even have to put in in the Bokumono fandoms. If you’re inspired for something else then go for it!

And hey, if one of the other prompt choices for this month inspired you more, you can do that one instead. I won’t stop you.

And if you fill the prompt and want to share, tag the blog so I can reblog it, or drop a link to it in the submissions. I want to share and I can’t wait to see what you all come up with.

Happy creating! (Boop 🐾)

Final poll results under the cut

#casual prompt event #april 2024 casual prompt #y'all almost had Boop win for a few days there and I was Prepared to hold you all accountable for that 😂#(says me. who put the choice in the poll in the first place)#Of course a non-winning prompt can always be used for a fill. or multiple prompts used #harvest moon #story of seasons

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novelconcepts · 1 month

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I just reread your fic about Tai and Van after their class reunion, and the line about Tai imagining how they would be after prom got me thinking. I totally wouldn’t mind reading an au where they actually got to attend their senior prom. I know you have so many wips that I honestly can’t wait to read, so this doesn’t have to be acknowledged whatsoever, but I also would love to see what you come up with.

Hey, remember when I said no promises? Promises are right over here, actually.

#ask #filled prompt #i do need everyone to know this was just floating around at the back of my head for a few days #and then i took a sleep aid and instead of sleeping it made my brain explode #i have the most unhinged little draft note about this story and had no choice but to write it when my cognitive functioning returned #thank you for the prompt! back to my...other 900 projects now

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lena-in-a-red-dress · 2 years

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Hello, big fan of your last quarantine party. If your looking for prompts here a spin on a common one. Crisis AU: Lena Luthor is the Paragon of Humanity, only it not Earth-38 Lena but one of your AU Lena's from another Earth (Paladin Lena, Sensate Lena, Potterverse Lena, etc). Bonus points if it that Lena that reborn in Earth-Prime instead of her Earth-38 counterpart.

A/N: Sensate!Lena for the win!

-----

Lena watches the anti matter wave swallow Earth-38. In the blink of an eye, the entire planet vanishes from the screen, but that isn't what stops the heart in her chest, freezing the breath in her lungs.

No. What makes the world stop is the sudden emptiness in her mind, the vacuum in her thoughts that is the absence of her cluster.

The shock of the severed bond makes the world spin around her. Her knees knock together, catching Supergirl's attention.

"Lena, it's okay, we'll fix it..."

The rest of her platitudes fall away as Lena's grip on reality falters, and she sinks into the nothingness.

Alone.

---

When she awakens, Kara is hovering next to her, perched anxiously on a stool beside the med bay recliner Lena rests in. But the physical nearness to another person does nothing to quash the deep isolation in Lena's chest.

Not one of them had made. None of her cluster survived.

She expects tears to rise, expects the tightness in her chest to resolve into a sob. But nothing comes. She's completely and utterly empty.

"Lena, are you--"

Ignoring the concern, Lena pushes out of the recliner and heads towards the door to the med bay as soon as she's on her feet.

"How do we fix this?"

---

By the time Lex shows up, Lena has nothing to react with. She sees her brother's smirking countenance, egging her to say something, but she remains silent. Not even the fact that her lack of reaction rankles him is enough to make her feel anything.

That doesn't keep him from negging her.

"Tell me," he says, sauntering into the lab the Legends have assigned them, "did any of your imaginary friends manage to evacuate? Or are you alone like the rest of us mere mortals--"

Without a word, Lena whirls and decks her brother in the jaw with a powerful right hook. He staggers, but Lena doesn't give him time to recover. The next thing she knows Sara Lance is hauling her away from where she's straddling Lex's chest and delivering blow after blow to his head and face.

She nearly catches Sara in the face with a flailing elbow in her effort to break free and resume her task of pulverizing Lex's skull to pieces. In response Sara cleanly flips her onto her back, slamming her as gently as possible to the deck and pinning her there.

Still, Lena feels nothing.

"Easy," Sara soothes, "easy now."

Lex coughs, rolling to his side before spitting the blood from his mouth.

"Bravo, sis." His voice is little more than a wheeze, but he still hasn't lost his arrogance. "I didn't think you had it in you." He tsks. "What would your cluster think?"

Lena regards him coolly, her muscles slackening under Sara's weight.

"Fuck you."

---

Resurrecting reality is easier than Lena expects, all things considered. Time spent in the dawn of time isn't really spent at all. None of them age, none of them know when a day has passed or a hundred. Sleep is useless. So Lena works.

The quiet of her own singular consciousness never fills. The emptiness in her chest gapes, driving her to spend every moment working on a solution. At least the other paragons know to keep Lex as far away from her as possible.

When they succeed, when their solution WORKS, as soon as she opens her eyes Lena feels full again. Her thoughts no longer rattle around her mind-- they're ensconced, cradled by the consciousness of the others. Lena stands in the sun of Earth Prime and breathes what feels like her first breath since the destruction of Earth-38.

With tears building in her eyes, Lena closes her eyes and reaches out through the restored connections emanating to and from their shared consciousness.

A flash of images bombard her, but she barely feels it as alarm floods her mind. Her breath quickens in panic, as realization slowly dawns.

She realizes she doesn't know a single one of them.

//prompts are closed

#prompt filled #sensate lena #during crisis #sensate lena as paragon of humanity #bc what better choice than a model of the next evolution of humanity

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msnihilist · 3 months

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45 with Eon/Kenny?

If you're okay with a second request: 27 with Gwen/Lucy

For the kiss prompt meme.

27: …as a suggestion.

"C'mon, it'll be funny," Ben whisper-hissed. He nudged Lucy with his elbow. "Kevin's not gonna be long, this is your chance!"

Lucy pretended to think about it, even though her mind had been made up as soon as Ben gave her the idea. Pranks were her favorite thing in the whole universe, after all. And messing with Gwen was priceless. Especially recently, as the more time Lucy spent on Earth, the more Gwen adjusted to her shenanigans, and the harder it was to truly surprise her.

She wanted to see Gwen's face turn bright red when she realized she had been tricked.

"Alright," Lucy sighed, fighting back a grin. "If you're going to twist my arm about it."

Ben snorted. "Don't pretend you aren't loving the idea."

Lucy just giggled as she turned away from him. She let her body melt, losing her humanoid form and briefly resembling a wad of mud. She just as quickly reformed herself, copying Kevin's face and body and the clothes he had worn this evening.

She only had a few minutes until Kevin got back with the cake, so Lucy didn't break stride as she transformed. She scanned the crowd for Gwen. The warehouse Kevin had suggested for the birthday bash was huge, which was perfect for all the people who had shown up, but not helpful for finding one person in particular.

Luckily, Lucy quickly found Gwen tucked into a corner, talking quietly with a shy-looking girl who couldn't have been more out of place with the thumping music and flashing lights. Lucy softened for a moment. It was sweet of Gwen to invite a classmate who probably never got invited to these things and try to get her out of her comfort zone...

It was sweet, but Lucy had a job to do.

Read the rest on AO3!

#putting the eon/kenny one on the backburner for a hot sec #gonna let that one marinate some more while i write yuri #ben 10 #lucy mann #gwen tennyson #what would their ship name even be? gwucy? lucwen? all terrible choices #ben 10 yuri for the win #my writing #prompt fill #actually as i was showering just now i got a BANGER idea for that kenny/eon one. so stay tuned for that

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goddess47 · 5 months

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For a bunch of things!

@writers-choice - prompt #39 - backwards

For SGA_Saturday prompts 411-414 - red / dawn

For Sweet and Short prompts Nov 2023 - black and white / better

For SGA Fan Arts Only Discord Server Birthday Bash - contrasting colors

Phew!

#writers choice #Stargate Atlantis #SGA_Saturday #prompt fills

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companionwolf · 3 months

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starry

[You sent 3 prompts, but I used them together, so I will answer this ask only.]

Context for the writing I've done-- the story overall is somewhat inspired by Delta Green as a setting and lore-wise. It is cosmic horror, but this prompt fill does not really include that at all.

This piece happens between when December first approached the Yearlings and his first mission with them. I hope this will make sense.

Warnings -- none I can think of.

1. starry + 21. chain + 44. beloved

The late evening is cold, brightened by the moonlight and occasional lamp glow that reflects off the layer of snow blanketing the world, giving it an eerie luminescence.

December shivers, breath billowing out through the scarf he has wrapped around his neck and lower face. Even with his winter coat, he struggles when it's cold. He's never done well in lower temperature; he can feel the tips of his ears going numb as they're exposed to wind.

He had little choice, needed to come to the base now, when it's dark and the weather's turned toward chill and dry. There'd be too many questions if he chose any other time earlier.

Still, the sky is starry between the breaks in the clouds. For a moment December stares up at them, forgets what he's doing, what he's chosen.

Then a wind gust buffets him, and he continues on.

Unlike the first time he approached the abandoned storefront, he's prepared. He knocks the right pattern on the door; there is a muffled sound of a bolt unlocking, and the face of the older woman he knows as June appears.

"Hello, Ember," she says.

"Hi," he says.

"They've been anxious to meet you," she says, as he comes in, exhaling slightly as the warmth of the crackling fireplace washes over him.

June moves to close the door and lock it back up; December turns to face her after a quick glance around the makeshift front living area -- nothing's changed much since the last time he was here. He can hear the quiet footsteps of others moving around upstairs; at least two or three people, maybe even more than that.

"Who all is here?" he asks.

Someone else behind him, near where he knows the living area opens into a hallway that leads to a few other rooms-- "The full first third of the Yearlings, June, and of course, you and me."

December whirls around to see the grinning face of October. The other is leaning against the frame of the threshold, holding a Styrofoam cup. He gives them a wave, and they raise the cup at him in greeting back. "January and March really appreciate the sugar and stuff you got," they say.

They straighten up, come toward him. He crosses the room and meets them in the middle. The two look each other over; October's hair is tied back, their eyes with slight dark circles under them. Their smile is bright as ever, though.

"Wow," they say, "you look like shit."

December frowns. "I haven't slept well."

"Hey, neither have I-- but that means you're more than prepared for all the not sleeping we'll be having you do," October says, laughing.

December isn't sure if he finds that very funny, but their laugh is somewhat infectious so he's not entirely shocked when he laughs along.

"So they're here?" he asks, politely stepping out of the way briefly as June moves past the pair into the hallway behind them. October nods.

"They'll be down shortly," the other says.

"Tell me about them," December says. "What should I expect? I'm kinda nervous, honestly."

October looks thoughtful.

"January's nice. A little slow, but he's good at being thorough," they say finally. "March... is a big nerd, prefers technology to people but will talk your ear off if you're interested in its work. April's a ass, but she means well and she's good at her job. February..." They trail off.

"Yeah?"

October sips their coffee. "You'll see," they say.

December doesn't like the sound of that.

The other leads him to sit down on the couches near the fireplace, asks if he'd like something to drink. For a second December considers it--

He shakes his head. "I'm good, thanks."

October shrugs, goes and grabs a bottle of something and pours right into their half drunk coffee. December stares bewilderedly at them.

"Those-- alcohol and coffee--"

"Making weird drinks-- it'll happen to you!" they answer as they take a swig, then sputter and spits it out instantly. "Fuck, oh my god," they manage through coughing, "that is so bad."

"October, whatever you're doing, stop it," says a voice December doesn't recognize as four people step into the room from the hallway, one after another like links in a chain, like months on a calender. That's me too now, he thinks. I hope.

Does he hope? He isn't entirely certain.

In any case, these must be the first third of the Yearlings. The tallest of them, with black hair and tired eyes, looks over at October and shakes her head. "Honestly, you're like a untrained dog."

"Woof," replies October.

Demcber stands, steps toward the four. The shortest nods at him. "Hi," he says. "I'm January."

"Nice to meet you," answers December, and then finds himself hesitating under the gaze of the orher two people-- one, with a shock of white hair, is giving him a once over from behind half rim glasses. The other, with a undercut, has their arms crossed and is glancing him up and down.

The tallest steps forward, extends her hand.

"April," she says. "You're the new one."

It's not a question. December nods, swallows his anxiety. "Yes," he says. "I'm the new one."

April frowns, doesn't say anything else.

The one with the glasses tips its head slightly. "October told us you're here for revenge," it says.

December gives October a confused look.

"I said I wanted to protect people," he says.

The other shrugs.

"That's a form of revenge in my book-- getting back at the shit by never letting it happen again," they say befor taking the tiniest sip of their drink again; they gag-- April rolls her eyes at them.

"I'm March," says the one with the white hair. December reaches to shake its hand; it makes a face. "Please do not touch me, ever. Thanks."

"Right," he says. "Sorry."

January smiles at him, at March.

"It'll be nice to have more people around here," he says. "I miss July and August." His smile flickers out. "I miss them a lot."

March's face softens a little. "We know, Jan."

The person with the undercut still hasn't spoken. October raises an eyebrow at them. "February?"

"I give him 3 months," says February, before turning and heading back the way they came.

December stands there, blinking. "Wait--"

April sighs.

"Don't take it personally," she says to him. "They're like that with everyone. Really, three is a good number-- means they think you'll last a bit."

"That's still not a very long time," December says.

"Oh, you'll change your mind once you get into the shit proper," says October, much too bright.

January nods at their words. "You'll either hard boil or crack," he says. Then he looks at March. "Because -- because of eggs. He's a baby."

March gives January a look that lingers somewhere between exasperated and amused. "Yes, I get it," it says to him. "Very good, Jan."

To December, it adds, "You can leave anytime you want. Remember that." It grins then, but the smile isn't a warm or kind thing. "Try to figure out if you want to stay sooner rather than later."

"Thanks?" December's looking at October helplessly; they're frowning into their wine coffee monstrosity and not paying him any attention.

March takes January by the arm and disappears the way Febuary went, leaving only April standing with October and December. She's grimacing at the former as they tip their head and shotgun the contents of their cup.

"You're going to die," she tells them.

"Only by my own hands," they say back through coughs.

April shakes her head at them "You can only hope," she answers.

December looks between them and then back toward where the other Yearlings vanished. "So does that mean I'm officially in?" he asks finally.

October's still sputtering, so it's April who replies. "Yes," she says. "I'd wish you congratulations, but that'd be insincere."

She tucks a lock of hair in her face back behind her ear. "It's going to get worse out there," she says, nodding toward the blacked out windows. "Are you going to go home now or...?"

Before he can answer, October manages, "No! He'll die! And that'd be anticlimatic so instead we're hanging out! Yearling bonding time!"

"And who is we?" April is bemused.

"Uh, well, March and Jan are their own beloveds, June's busy and February is a dick, so who do you think?" October beams at them; April sighs.

"Fine," she says.

She motions for both of them to follow; October grabs at his hand, asking if he likes board games. December finds himself smiling at them.

It's almost enough to forget why he came, what he's gotten into, what all of this is in the end.

Almost.

#barking asks #other post #-!#tailstrokes #i...did not fill your prompt choices well but i did manage to write.#if you like i can try again #feeling a little anxiety about posting this but i know you are nice and most everyone else here is too #if i finish the story proper i may put it up for reading. i am not sure

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augment-techs · 2 years

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Javi and Amelia + C, H, I, N, P from your new headcanon asks?

Crying: Amelia’s tears are a mellow, steady sort of thing that shows up here and there when her work days or battle days become too much. Crying in private, or in the company of a close friend, is her shut off valve to keep things from getting worse. The last thing she needs is stress and if it helps her in a way that does no harm, she’ll take it at the wheel gladly. For Javi, in a way, it’s much worse. He bottles things up, a consequence of growing up with a father that disapproves of him and his calling (his love of music, his friends, his choices) and being in a house where he doesn’t want his little sister to hear him. The sounds he makes, the amount of moisture that comes from his eyes, nose, and mouth, the way he holds himself and convulses like he might choke...It’s enough to break the heart. Healing/Comfort Sex: The first time Amelia was dreadfully injured after she and Javi got together, she was bedbound for a week, ordered not to do any activities that could wear her out easily, but was still reminded to engage in exercises to keep blood flow going and the scabs and stitches from blotting badly. So, since she couldn’t really get up from her lying down position, Javi was more than happy to provide a reason for her to spread her legs and raise them up enough to get over his shoulders, allowing them to jolt and flex while he got to work getting blood to engorge her pretty cunt, flex her abdominal muscles while his tongue was applied to the most necessary places. In turn, when Javi feels a case of the blues, feels unworthy of their relationship, his place on the team, thinks he’ll never be good enough to move forward with his music; Amelia takes the helm. Sometimes it feels a little manipulative, but Javi never complains in the aftermath of her launching on him in a quickie at the office, or letting her do all the work in their bed, or cornering him in the bathroom mid-morning to get him off with a lightning fast blowjob that takes easy and swift care of his morning wood. Intoxication: Javi’s sister is a Green Ranger who does track and field and has friends that are all exceptionally easy going--it would have taken some kind of sorcery for him not to come upon the opportunity to have eaten pot brownies. Though, the first time was an accident and Izzy apologized for five hours after he took out his guitar and made up a song on the spot about how wonderful peanut butter was (thankfully with the Warden out of the house). In her efforts to find out the truth in the supernatural, Amelia has imbibed in...well...a lot. Jimson Weed, grass, Molly, opium, a hallucinogenic spore that made her see galaxies and had her naked, swimming in a lake, and being chased down by Javi, Ollie, Aiyon, and Zayto because Izzy was out of town for school. Now she is forbidden to take anything without someone there to supervise. New AU Idea: 1960s AU. Javi is part of the Beatnik generation, doing their best to put the world in order through the written and spoken word, anti-war rallies, marching on Washington, imbibing on pot and acid in an attempt to see the truth, to project the truth, to protect the future. Amelia was on her way to being the first woman reporter in her district in California before she was attacked and forced to carry the shame for all the world to see because she didn’t have access to safe abortion and wasn’t quite brave enough to try it herself. She tides herself over on working in a bookshop across from the record shop Javi worked in between concerts and marches. They met once at a rally when she was six months along, and Javi was there when she was accosted by the man who hurt her, trying to corner her while yelling at the top of his lungs that it was her own fault she was like this, how dare she--! Javi was the only one who stepped in when the man started beating her, wrestling the man off of her and inevitably calling and riding in the ambulance when Amelia started vomiting blood. It wasn’t no love story, him being introduced to her Pop-Pop as her emergency contact when the doctors needed permission to remove the products of conception or lose her. Javi waiting in the lounge area just to be sure she was alright and Pop-Pop leaning on him in stress and gratitude the whole night. But when she called the both of them in the next morning, it was...with interest and gratitude. Hell of a way to be introduced, shaking hands with her covered in bruises and him covered in her blood. Penance: In a really messed up way, Javi feels constantly guilty almost every time he plays an instrument outside of the safety of his own room, out in the open where people can hear him if he’s not careful. His dad having drilled into him that he’s not supposed to make a single note has brought about this knot in his stomach building and building with every song he writes and performs. Sometimes, Amelia feels like her duties to the truth were brought about by the fact that she never knew the truth about what befell her parents. It makes her believe herself selfish and ignorant when she goes down an alley that might lead her to something greater; like her entire life is a fraud. They dare not say this to one another, a burden they feel they should carry on their own. But they know each other, feel the ache in their bones; so they try to keep close when the shadow of shame comes across the both of them.

#javelia #ask fill #prompt fill #sexy times #Pro-Choice Advocacy #mention of assault #angst #power rangers dino fury #boom! comics power rangers #javi garcia #amelia jones #mmpr

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gutmeats · 2 years

Text

Sea of People

AO3 Link Fandom: High School Story Prime Pairing: Wes Porter & Simon Klein (M!MC) (GEN) Length: 612 Words Rating: General Audiences (if u ignore the one (1) cuss word) Prompt: an image of a large group of people, many with rainbow flags Summary: Large crowds of people aren't for everyone, even if its an event for gay people and you are a gay people. A/N: for @choicespride. just personally speaking, as someone who gets overwhelmed in crowds. today's prompt image of a crowd is vaguely overwhelming to me. so i wanted to write something that reflected that. also i havent ever written wes before so if he's not in character. whoops. its a 600 word fic idc.

Simon knew he should be enjoying himself, but he was hot, and thirsty, and his binder had never felt as tight as it did now, with sweat suctioning it to his chest. Not to mention the crowds, and with crowds came noise, and noise meant overstimulation, but he didn’t dare turn off his hearing aid just in case he needed it to find the friends he had lost after his band, Kingslayer, finished their set.

It had been nice to be up on stage with his friends, since they all went their separate ways after graduation, but now that the event had lost it’s shine- at least for him, anyway- all Simon felt was tired and overwhelmed.

He staggers through the crowd, almost aimlessly, trying to find his way out, or at least someone he knew, but it felt like trying to swim against a current with concrete shoes on.

“‘Scuse me, Pardon me,” he mutters quietly as he tries his best to fight his way over to where the booths were set up without smacking the daylights out of anyone by accident.

Then someone grabs his hand.

As tired and disoriented as he was, he decides to just let this whoever-it-was tug him through the crowd and to the outskirts of the park the pride event was set up in.

When they stop in the shade of the tree, Simon flops down with a sigh. As he catches his breath, his savior hands him an ice cold bottle of water.

“Oh, thanks…” he rolls the bottle over his forehead for a few seconds, eyes closed. Then he chugs about half the bottle and pours the rest over himself. “Fuck, that feels good.”

His savior laughs and sits next to him, and now that he’s had a moment to calm down, he realizes that it’s--

“Wes!” Simon tosses an arm around him. “I didn’t think you’d be here!”

“Yeah, big crowds like this aren’t really my thing, but Ezra wanted me to see Kingslayer preform. I’m glad I caught you, though. You looked like you were about to pass out.”

“Yeahhh… I was too busy putting away my bass to realize everyone else had scattered until it was too late. Thanks for getting me outta there.”

“It’s nothing.” Wes bumps his shoulder against Simon’s.

They people watch for a few minutes, but it doesn’t take long for Simon’s sweat and water soaked binder to begin to really bother him.

He wiggles in place, trying to tug it away from his body enough to get comfortable.

Wes looks at him. “You doing alright?”

“No! It’s so hot and noisy and my binder feels way too tight!”

“Do you want to get out of here, then? Come back to mine and Ezra’s? We could get dinner and catch up.”

“That sounds nice. Way better than this.”

Wes and Simon grab each other’s hands, both pulling in opposing directions to tug each other up.

“Let me just text Ez and let him know that we’re going. He was planning on staying out later than me, anyway, so he’ll probably catch a ride from one of the others.”

“‘Kay.”

Once Wes’ phone is back in his pocket, he tosses an arm across Simon’s shoulders and leads him back around the crowd and out of the park.

Simon gives one last look over his shoulder and sighs. “I tried to like it, I really did. I just wasn’t expecting it to be so… much.”

Wes laughs quietly. “You don’t have to enjoy big pride events like this just because you’re queer, Simon. You can celebrate just by being yourself.”

“...Yeah.” Simon smiles at him. “That’s way better.”

#gutsfics #high school story prime #prompt fill #choices pride 2022 #choices fanfic #ficlet

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confessedlyfannish · 7 months

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DP x DC Writing Prompt #5

Damian does not glance back at Bruce when he knocks on the door. Instead they both wait in silence.

After a moment, the door opens.

"Hello," Jasmine, Jazz, Fenton greets politely, unsurprised to find the Waynes on her doorstep. Damian's expression grows ever darker at this revelation.

"Hello Ms. Fenton, are your parents home?" Bruce asks, placing a firm hand on Damian's shoulder, to ground as much as to restrain. To his credit he does not shake it off.

"No, they're out of town for a conference," the eighteen year-old says, opening the door wider. "But I think you'd better come in."

Bruce would normally decline, but Ms. Fenton is a legal adult and he has already, even unknowingly, waited 16 years. Damian makes the choice for him, striding past the threshold.

"Please take a seat," Jazz says as she leads them to the living room. She ignores Damian's swinging head as he takes in the home. It is deceptively large, a 90s style house filled with modern furniture. The walls are bright, with purple and green accents that would normally feel garish but somehow work. The stairs leading to the second floor are lined with family photos that Bruce yearns to take a closer look at. "Can I get you anything? Coffee? Water?"

"No, that's alright, thank you," Bruce says, taking a seat on the long plush couch. A men's windbreaker lies haphazardly thrown across one of the arms. A closed container of Oreo cookies sit on the coffee table next to a physics textbook open to chapter 16, half covered in highlighter and filled with sticky notes. There's a child's painting framed next to the tv, a handprint made to look like a thanksgiving turkey in bright blue.

For the home of experimental scientists, it is cozy and well lived-in.

Damian repeatedly glances at the stairs through the doorway.

Bruce clears his throat. "We were hoping to--"

"I've texted--oh, I'm sorry," Jazz says, having spoken at the same time. Bruce gestures for her to go on.

"I've contacted Danny, he should be here soon. He was out with some friends." Jazz explains. As she hadn't pulled out a phone in their presence, Bruce can only deduce they have some sort of camera at their front door. This also explains Ms. Fenton's complete lack of surprise at their appearance.

"So you know who we are." Damian says, the first words he's spoken since they arrived at the house and the longest sentence he's spoken since they arrived in Amity Park.

"I do," Jazz says, calm in the face of Damian's clearly simmering anger. Bruce trusts him not to attack Ms. Fenton, but he still watches him carefully.

"He told you about me," Damian says. It is the same question, but it is also not.

"He did," Jazz says.

Damian swallows. "I see," he grits out.

Jazz's neutrality slips and her face softens in sympathy. "Damian," she starts hesitantly, but before she can say anything else the front door opens.

A moment later Bruce's son walks through the doorway, and Damian is on him.

This is what Bruce hoped to prevent, but despite his numerous checks of Damian's luggage his son has still managed to smuggle a small dagger, which he now produces and swings in a calculated arc at Daniel Fenton's jugular.

Danny dodges cleanly, and dodges every swipe thereafter in a manner that speaks to continued practice long after his time at the League. Damian is a perfect product of his training, but it is up against Danny his flaws come to light. He is just as good as he always was, but Danny is better.

In a matter of seconds Damian grows frustrated and sloppy in his attacks, completely atypical for him. Danny takes Damian out at the knees and pins him down with one arm, pressing his face into the carpet.

"Calm down," he orders. His voice is deeper than Damian's at sixteen to his twelve, the accent that still traces Damian's words completely gone from his speech. Damian growls and thrusts his head back into Danny's face, meeting it with a sharp thunk. He rolls up as Danny recoils, putting distance between them. Danny glares at him from several steps away, hand to his forehead. Damian tosses the dagger into his other hand as he charges, and to Bruce's surprise Danny does nothing more than turn his face to the side, allowing Damian to draw a sharp line down his cheek.

Damian stops dead in his tracks.

"Are you done?" Danny asks, blood beginning to pool at the seam of the cut.

Damian's expression is stricken, eyes stuck on the blood starting to drip down his brother's face.

"I said, are you done, Damian?" Danny asks. His voice is cold.

Damian hears him this time, and he flushes red. "I--you--"

Danny sighs. He looks at Jazz, whose expression is back to carefully controlled.

"Are you alright?" he asks her. She nods.

"You left me," Damian accuses, standing there holding his bloody dagger limply.

Danny turns back to him, raising an eyebrow.

"You left me," Damian repeats louder, rapidly blinking.

"Yes. I did." Danny provides no excuse nor any explanation. His stance is unyielding.

Damian's eyes bounce wildly, shifting to Jazz and Danny slides smoothly in front of her, protectively. He looks at Damian warily, not as if he is his brother, but as if he is a danger. Damian flinches.

Hope is the last to die, Bruce thinks, watching as that last bit of hope Damian had is extinguished, the knowledge working its way through every inch of his body like ice in his veins. His eyes darken. He turns and runs from the room, the front door slamming shut not a moment later.

Jazz stands up, pulling a few tissues from the box on the coffee table. She presses them to Danny's face, cupping his cheek until he holds it himself. "I'm going to go get the first aid kit," she says gently. It is a thinly veiled excuse to leave them alone, and Bruce is grateful for it as she heads for the stairs.

They both wait until her footsteps have faded, taking each other in. Bruce looks at his mother's eyes and the sharp turn of Talia's nose. Damian's everything, four years older.

"You shouldn't have come here," Danny says, throwing himself on the armchair Jazz has just vacated.

"You know who I am," Bruce says carefully.

Danny glares. "I've kept your secret. She nor my parents know."

"I know," Bruce says. "That's not what I meant. You know who I am. And who I pretend to be. So you know I am familiar with masks."

"And?" Danny asks, looking vaguely bored.

"And so I can recognize when someone is wearing one. Damian will too, once he's calmed down."

Danny's expression sharpens. "No, he won't. Because you are going to go to back to whatever bed and breakfast you're staying in, pack up, hop in your private jet and fly him back to Gotham immediately before the League realizes you've gone. If they haven't already," he mutters.

"This is about the League then," Bruce says. "Do you not believe I can protect you?"

"I don't need your protection," Danny snaps, and watches Bruce actively extrapolate with a dawning resignation. "So this is the World's Greatest Detective at work," he says, slumping bonelessly into his chair, the first teenager-y thing he's done.

"Damian's in danger from the League," Bruce says. Danny glares from his slump. It's almost cute. "And as long as the League doesn't know about you, he's safe."

"Draw your own conclusions," Danny says, baring his teeth. Damian often makes the same face. "As long as you leave."

"I can protect him. I can protect you both," Bruce says. "Let me help you."

Danny closes his eyes. He centers his breathing in an exercise someone has clearly walked him through in the past. Bruce would bet money on the adoptive sister waiting patiently upstairs.

"Mr. Wayne. You are not my father," he says. "My trust in you extends to the point that I left Damian in your care, but that is where it ends. And that was when it was sanctioned by the League. By coming here you have endangered those sanctions."

Bruce disregards the sting, doubling down on his analysis. Talia had left Damian with Bruce well after Danny had left the League. But Danny speaks as if the decision had been his.

Or perhaps, Bruce realizes, it is not that Danny decided upon it, but that Danny allowed it to continue.

Bruce takes a second to review what Oracle had gone over with him before they left for Amity. Daniel Fenton had by all accounts, since leaving the League, lived a fairly normal life. His adoptive parents were eccentric scientists dabbling in the occult but their findings that bordered pseudoscience circulated a very niche community of like-minded eccentrics. The bulk of their income came from alternative energy, a more viable source of study that they'd veered harder into in the past year or so, a government contract with the EPA currently in the works. This had in part funded a vacation to an all-inclusive resort the family had taken that past summer.

Danny received average grades in school, above average in science and mathematics, declining sharply in his freshman year and sophomore year before evening out around the second semester. He had gotten into fights repeatedly with one student in particular, suspended for two weeks following an incident that resulted in a the student receiving a black eye. Teachers reported him to be highly intelligent but distracted and removed. They had recommended he be evaluated for an attention-deficit/hyperactivity disorder. He had no social media. He had missed multiple picture days. The ones he had attended he was sneezing, or a blur of movement, even going so far as to fall off his stool, legs flailing. Bruce had drank up every last one as Barbara had waited patiently.

A normal life. A family vacation to Bermuda. Average grades.

His freshman year, distracted and removed. The same year Damian had arrived at Bruce's home. Masks upon masks.

"You have informants within the League," Bruce says. Danny, to his credit, has no discernible tell. But there is no other explanation. "What will you do, if they find out you are alive?"

"That is none of your concern," Danny says, but he might as well be saying whatever I have to.

He never stopped practicing, after all.

"If they go after Damian, it is my concern."

"And that is why you need to take Damian back to Gotham before they do." Danny says. "I will take care of it."

Damian had barely spoken since he had realized Danyal was alive. But Bruce had seen the reverence in his eyes as he looked at the file.

"الوريث الصحيح" he had murmured. The rightful heir.

"You are proposing going after the entirety of the League with no backup," Bruce says. "Even if you think they won't kill you, you won't win either."

"Maybe they will," Danny says lightly. "Kill me. That would also work."

Bruce inhales sharply. "Danny," he starts.

"Go home, Mr. Wayne," Danny says, pushing himself up with one hand. The other still clutches the wad of tissue to his cheek, partially soaked with blood. "Go take care of your son."

"I'll go," Bruce says, "I'll take him to the Watchtower. And then I'll come back."

"Mr. Wayne-"

"I should've come for you," Bruce interrupts. "Sixteen years ago. I should've come for you."

Danny's brow furrows. "You had no idea I existed."

"But if I had. I would've come. I never would've left you there. And now that I know, I am not leaving you now."

For the first time Bruce watches Danny be completely caught off guard. He openly gapes at Bruce.

"You would've died," Danny lands on, voice thin. "They would've killed you."

"Unlike you, I would've brought backup." Bruce says, mimicking Danny's lightness.

He's lying. Sixteen years ago he would've thrown himself at the League to save his newborn son without a plan, without a thought beyond rescuing his baby.

Danny barks out a laugh. "You would've laid siege to Nanda Parbat with The Big Blue Boy Scout?" he looks wistful. "That would've been rad."

Bruce sees his opening. "Danny," he stands, eye to eye with his son. "Let me help you."

Danny evaluates him. "The Batman," he says softly. "I didn't want you to come, then. I didn't need one more person I had to prove myself to. All I wanted was to live amongst the stars, in the quiet of the cosmos."

"You want to be an astronaut," Bruce says. At Danny's cocked head, he says without shame, "I read your essay on personal heroes. You wrote about Edward White. Ad Astra Per Aspera."

Danny smiles slightly, sadly. "It is a rough road."

"You can be whatever you want to be," Bruce says. "I won't stand in your way."

"Even if I want to be Danny Fenton?" he asks.

"Even then."

Danny sighs. "I don't need your help Bruce," he says. "No," he says as Bruce opens his mouth. He pulls the wad of tissues away from his cheek. Underneath the splotches of dried blood the gash in his face has cleanly knit itself together, a faint white line now all that remains.

"I don't need your help," he says clearly. He holds a palm forward, and a green fire grows from its center, until the flames are licking delicately up his fingers.

"I know The Batman does not kill. But I am not a Robin. I am something else entirely," Danny says, his eyes reflecting the green of the flames. Or not, as he looks up at Bruce, his eyes green all on their own. They are sad. This is why he stayed away, Bruce realizes. Not out of fear. Danny is not afraid. Danny is tired.

But for his brother, Danny will wake up.

"And If the League takes one step towards Damian, I will raze them to the ground."

#Danny I AM RETIRED FROM MURDER Fenton #the informants are ghosts #the thing about deductive reasoning is sometimes you deduct incorrectly #particularly when you don't know about the ghosts #danyal al ghul #damian wayne #danny phantom #batman #dp x dc au #dp x dc crossover #dp x dc #dp x dc prompt #bruce wayne #this is an au where damian doesn't get blown up and lose most of his vital organs #like bruce still isn't a super responsible parent but no nine year olds blow up so that's something #danny: he only blew up once so he can stay with you #batman: he did get speared straight through but we fixed it #danny: he wHAT #i wrote this instead of eating dinner #because drafts are for the mentally healthy #tbh i don't think his name would be danyal al ghul in this one #he's trying really hard to stay under the radar I don't think he would choose essentially a homonym

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markster666 · 3 months

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Hey! I noticed you write smut for everyones favorite deer man. Episode 5 was getting to me with those tentacles! i was wondering if you could write something to do with that when you get the chance? 👀

Yes I do! Your wish is my command. <33

ALASTOR X READER (SMUT/18+) - TENTACLES

Pairing: Alastor x Fem!Reader

Tags: Smut, 18+, Double Penetration, Tentacles, Porn without much plot, Daddy Kink, Master Kink, Pet Kink, Sensory Deprivation, CNC, and other stuff lol

Fandom: Hazbin Hotel

Word Count: 863

A/N: Thank you so much to @thatdeadstoat for taking the time and effort to put in this prompt request. I'm so happy with all the Alastor lore and screen time lol. Unedited, so apologies for spelling mistakes. Requests are open.

You heard Alastor's microphone cane tapping the ground as he walked down the hallway to your room. You couldn't even see his face but you could FEEL the seething energy rising from him. He didn't even knock as he busted open your door, slamming it roughly behind him and leaning against it.

"I don't know WHY Charlie thought it was a brilliant idea to bring that low life to this hotel. I despise him with a furious passion."

You shrugged very slightly and sat up in your bed, pausing the tv show you were watching.

"It's her father, Alastor. They're blood. At least he's trying."

Alastors ears furrow back as he squints at you.

"I can't believe you're justifying him, my Dear! I taught you so much better than that."

You bit your lip.

"I was just trying to state my opinion-"

You cut yourself off as he purposely made a threatening walk towards you, his eyes filled with a cannibalistic nature.

"Your opinion doesn't matter in this bedroom, my Dear, I'm CERTAIN i've made that clear, no? Do you need a reminder?"

Before you could open your mouth to speak, his tentacles appeared out of thin air, one of them wrapping around your mouth like a gag and the others pinning you to the bed on your stomach, wrapped around your body like a bunch of rope to keep your arms locked to your side. Alastor got on top of you, straddling the small of your back and wrapping a hand around your throat, squeezing gently on the sides. He pulled your hair aggressively up and got close to your ear,

"Not like you had much of a choice anyways, little one. If you're a good pet, I might let you feel some of your own pleasure, but for now, let your Master let off some steam, hm?"

The tentacle around your mouth tightened as you desperately nodded, trying to murmur something to him but instead it comes out as groans.

"What was that, my Dear? I can't hear you."

He was obviously mocking you. His grin grew wider.

"Since you can't keep your opinionated mouth shut, that restraint is not going anywhere. If I hear you try to speak, I will not give you relief. Do I make myself clear?"

You nodded, feeling your core heat up and the wetness starting to spill down your legs.

"Good."

He gives you a quick kiss on the cheek before slamming your face into the pillow, ripping down your pants and feeling your pussy through your panties.

"Oh my! I haven't even DONE anything yet, Princess! Maybe you really DO need this!"

He moved your panties to the side and inserted a two fingers into your cunt, not giving you much time to adjust before pumping them out as fast as he could. You instinctively arched your back before moaning out in overstimulation as he pushed your face harder into the pillow, his hand entangled in your hair.

He kept going for a good bit before stopping, slapping your ass once before letting go of your hair. You were panting and whimpering and felt your juices dripping down your thighs onto the bed.

You felt humilated and he felt like a god.

Before you could catch your breath, you instantly felt Alastor press into your pussy all the way to the hilt, filling you up in just the perfect way. His ears furrowed back as he gripped your hips tighter.

"Goooood girl, you take me so well. Now, just be still and let Daddy breed you."

You were a moaning whimpering mess as he started fucking you into the mattress, his tentacles still wrapped around your body and your mouth. He had an animalistic rage inside of him making him grasp at every part of you, trying to fuck you as deep as he could.

And you loved every second of it.

He kept going for awhile before you felt something push against your asshole. You winced and then moaned in pure pleasure as one of his tentacles inserted itself into it, both holes now being used and filled up.

You bit against the tentacle keeping your mouth in place while you were being brutalized by the deer demon. You were moaning so loud you could probably guess everybody was hearing this.

It wasn't long until Alastor was close, his thrusts become more sloppy and his grip on your hips becoming tighter. You felt yourself getting close to.

"Cum for me."

You instantly came at the sound of his voice and he came too, pushing as deep as he could go. You two stayed in that position for awhile, catching your breathes before he took his tentacles out of you and from around you and himself out as well. You tried to stand up to use the restroom to empty his seed out but he stopped you,

"Ah ah, at least give it 10 minutes, Pet."

He gave you a small kiss on the forehead and dressed himself, sitting on the edge of your bed.

"Thanks Alastor... I guess I really did need that."

His grin grew as wide as it could.

"Good girl."

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A/N: Thank you so much for everybody who has read! Your support means the world to me. If you didn't know, I will be participating in Kinktober (except in February lol) with some pretty smutty prompts starting February 1st and going on all month, so if you like my writing and want some more Alastor x reader smuts, please consider following. Lots of love.

#hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel alastor #hazbin alastor #alastor the radio demon #alastor x reader #18+ only #alastor x reader smut #18+ mdni

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